A/N: This odd
little tale is a prequel of sorts to my "For the Love of Hufflepuff"
series, delving into the relationship between my OC's,
Veronica Stanley and Rupert Balin. It takes place during Veronica's
fifth year at Hogwarts and is rated R for language, violence and adult
situations. If you haven't read at least Part 2 of the "Hufflepuff"
series, you won't get it; if you have, then you know that whenever Rupert
and Vee get together, things can get mighty disturbing. In other words,
read at your own risk. Hogwarts and its permanent staff belong to JKR.
The rest is a product of my twisted imagination and belongs to me.
~*~
Veronica Stanley
had her hand raised for nearly five minutes before her History of Magic
teacher, Professor Binns, noticed it. He had been droning on about the
Goblin Wars as if he was the only person in the room when he finally
acknowledged her. "What is it, Miss—?"
"Stanley." It was her fifth year as a Hogwarts student
and he still had no idea who she was. "May I be excused? I have
to use the lavatory."
For a moment,
the long-dead professor looked as though he didn't remember what a lavatory
was, but waved his permission, then went back to his mind-numbing lecture.
Veronica gripped
her school bag tightly and slipped out of the room. She looked down
the empty corridor then at her watch. She had ten minutes before the
bell rang. Twenty minutes before Defense Against
the Dark Arts…
With any luck
she would be dead by then.
She was already
on the third floor and there was just one girls' lavatory between History
of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts,
which she now headed for. A little voice in the back of her mind asked
her why she didn't go somewhere more private, but she wanted her death
to hurt him—if that was possible. He would be furious, that she knew.
She could even dully imagine what he would do for revenge, but she thought
she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't bother hurting Tim
if she was dead. What would be the point if he couldn't see the pain
in her eyes?
As soon as she
entered the lavatory, she magically sealed the door so no one could
interrupt her. She didn't want to be saved, but she did want to be found.
She wanted him
to find her.
Veronica dropped
her bag and dug out the knife she had stolen from Potions earlier that
morning. Her hands were shaking, but she tried to ignore it. She removed
her watch and put it on the sink, anxiously glancing at the time again.
Only twelve minutes left. She rolled up her sleeves and felt the pulse
in her left wrist, mentally calculating how deep she would have to cut
in order to open the artery. With a deep breath, she raised the dagger
and began to slice her flesh, but she barely cried out. After two months
of Balin's tortures, the pain was nothing.
~*~
Rupert Balin
always felt a little flutter of anticipation as the fifth-year Hufflepuffs
filed into his Defense Against the Dark Arts
classroom. He watched them all with seemingly equal disinterest, but
secretly waited for his favorite. Veronica's little body always stiffened
ever so slightly when she felt his eyes upon her. Balin grinned lasciviously,
then adjusted himself in his chair as he found the thought of her make
him stiffen ever so slightly.
The line of students
ended and the bell rang, but still no Veronica. The wave of anticipation
turned into a dull thud. She had never dared to miss his class—even
after a long night of his unspeakable torments. There was something
wrong. He rose from his chair and stood in front of his class with his
usual brutal casualness, his hard blue eyes meeting those of each of
his students in turn before they invariably looked away. It took some
effort for Balin to stop himself from immediately eyeing Veronica's
empty chair. "Is Miss Stanley ill?"
That was it,
of course; she was in the hospital wing. There would be no marks for
Poppy to find, Balin always made sure of that—except for the Dark Mark
he had burned on her chest, but Veronica would never be so foolish as
to let anyone see it. And she would never, ever tell. If she did, she
knew her brother Tim would be dead before the day was out.
Miss Grey, a
pretty but uninteresting blonde girl in the third row, raised her hand
shyly.
Balin fixed her
with an intimidating glare. "Well?"
"S-she went
to the girls' lavatory," she stammered.
Balin broke out
in a sneering grin. "Perhaps our little Miss Stanley fell in. Why
don't you go fish her out, Miss Grey?" When the girl hesitated,
he barked, "Now! And no dawdling!"
She murmured,
"Yes sir," and rushed passed him out the door.
~*~
Once in the corridor,
Rosalie Grey breathed a great sigh of relief. Just being out of that
horrid man's presence for even a few minutes was a treat. She would
dawdle all right, even if it cost them house points. Balin was bound
to deduct points anyway because of Veronica's tardiness. In fact, it
seemed like everything Vee did caused him to penalize Hufflepuff House.
Too soon Rosalie
reached the girls' loo, but when she tried to push open the door it
wouldn't budge. She knocked and called her classmate's name, but received
no answer. Then she realized she had stepped in something wet and sticky.
She looked down, and to her horror, saw that it was blood. Rosalie let
out a little cry and covered her mouth, frantically looking up and down
the corridor for help.
Her two choices
for immediate assistance were Professor Binns and Professor Balin. A
ghost and a man who would happily murder the entire student body if
given half the chance. With a longing glance towards the History of
Magic classroom, Rosalie turned and tore down the corridor towards Balin.
She could hear him berating poor Herbert Pyecraft
when she burst into the room.
"I think
Veronica's locked herself in the loo! She didn't answer when I called,
but there's blood coming out from under the door!"
Rosalie had said
it as desperately as she could, certain Balin would merely glower at
her with a bored expression and say something ghastly like, So? What do you expect me to do about it? But the man she had privately
dubbed The Worst Person in the Entire World did something very odd indeed.
There was the slightest loss of color in his face and a flicker of something
that vaguely looked like panic in his cold blue eyes. He roughly pushed
Rosalie aside and sped into the corridor.
The other students
stared after him, but obediently remained in their seats. Rosalie watched
Balin actually run down the
corridor towards the girl's lavatory! Rosalie started running too. Balin
had charged her with looking after Vee and her Hufflepuff Loyalty demanded
she follow through. Besides, she didn't think it wise to abandon poor
Vee to Professor Balin's dubious care in her time of need.
~*~
Balin had his
wand out before he reached the door and blasted it open with a word.
Whatever it was he had been experiencing the moment before turned to
blind rage. Veronica was deathly pale and trembling, but still conscious,
sitting against the wall, drenched in her own blood. A bloody knife
lay nearby. Several locks of her wild curls were pasted to her face
with perspiration. She lifted her head weakly and met his eyes. It was
still there; the look he had tried to torture out of her for the past
two months. The stupid girl still loved him.
He stood transfixed
for a moment and it was only the sight of the blood still pumping from
her radial arteries that caused him to burst into action again. Balin
knelt beside her and grabbed each wrist in turn. With the tip of his
wand burning red hot, he sealed both wounds. Veronica cried out feebly,
but the sound was unusually unsatisfying. She opened her mouth to speak,
but he cut her off. "Not a word, you little imbecile!" he
hissed.
Despite his warning,
she managed to whisper, "C-c-cold."
He glanced behind
him at a stunned Miss Grey, who had followed him into the lavatory.
Balin swore a particularly foul oath when he saw that the silly creature
was not wearing a cloak or muffler. With a glare at Veronica that told
her she would pay dearly for this, Balin removed his impeccably tailored
black over-robe and bundled her in it. He then gathered her fragile
body into his arms and rose to his feet.
Miss Grey was
still standing there, daring to meet his eyes with a timorous challenge.
"You'll be taking her to the hospital wing then?"
Balin's eyes
narrowed dangerously. "Tell your classmates to go to the library
and stay there until the bell rings. And for your cheek—detention plus
every point your house has left. Now, get out of my way!" Before
the girl could comply, he shoved passed her and 'accidentally' slammed
her into one of the hard porcelain sinks on his way out the door.
~*~
Balin transported
himself and Veronica to the hospital wing via the fireplace in his office.
Thankfully, all the beds were empty; he wasn't in the mood for an audience.
Veronica was slipping in and out of consciousness when he half lay,
half dropped her onto the bed next to the one Poppy Pomfrey was making.
"In Merlin's
name, what happened?" Poppy cried at the sight of the blood covering
the girl, and now, Balin.
He roughly grabbed
Veronica's arm and showed Poppy the ugly wound on her wrist. "The
stupid girl cut herself."
"Oh dear!"
the nurse fussed. "She must have lost a third of her blood, at
least. I'll be right back." She hurried to a cupboard near her
desk, fumbled with the key around her neck, then
opened it. On the shelves were various jars and vials filled with herbs
and potions the school nurse used for healing a myriad of ailments.
After a moment of searching she found the vial she was looking for and
hurried back to Veronica's side. "It's Dragon's Blood Elixir. It
will replenish her blood supply. Help me sit her up, Rupert."
Balin sighed
heavily, but did as Poppy requested. Veronica
was too insensible to take the potion at Poppy's urging, but when she
heard Balin's voice bellowing at her to open her mouth, the girl complied.
Almost instantly, the color returned to her cheeks and she returned
to full consciousness. Veronica glanced at Balin apprehensively with
tears welling in her large brown eyes. "I'm sorry."
"You should
be," he snapped, unable to fully vent his anger in front of Poppy.
"You ruined my best robes."
Poppy stroked
Veronica's forehead soothingly. "Not to worry, dear. Everything's
going to be just fine. I need to have a word with Professor Balin just
now, but I'll be right back." Poppy put a privacy curtain in front
of the girl's bed and motioned for him to follow her to the other side
of the room.
Poppy surveyed
him, shaking her head and tut-tutting. "You
are a mess." She pulled at her wand and pointed it his bloodied
robes. "Tersi emundo!"
With a small crack, Balin's robes were as clean and impeccably tailored
as ever.
"How thoughtful
of you, Poppy," Balin said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Well, I
knew I wouldn't get any useful information out of you until you were
content." She tucked her wand away in the pocket of her white apron
and folded her arms across her chest. "What in the name of the
gods happened? Why would she have done such a thing to herself?"
He shrugged.
"How in the hell should I know? I was in the middle of a class
when it happened. You know how teenage girls are. You were one yourself,
as I recall—" His lips curled up in an evil grin. "A
century or two ago."
"And you're
still the same sorry excuse for a human being you always were,"
Poppy replied, smiling thinly. "And yet you saved Miss Stanley's
life."
Balin waved his
hand dismissively. "We all have our momentary lapses in judgment."
Poppy glanced
over her shoulder towards the girl. "Your seals will leave scars."
"Serves
the little cretin right."
"You did
just what you should have, Rupert," she said seriously, meeting
his eyes.
"You sound
surprised."
"You look
surprised." Poppy grinned wryly. "If it wouldn't tax your
poor black heart too much more, could you please inform Professor Sprout—gently?"
Balin took her
chin in his hand and leaned forward until their lips almost touched.
"Anything for you, my pretty Poppy."
He and Poppy
had known each other for years, but they had never been lovers. Her
upbringing had been annoying prim and when they had been at school together,
she had repeatedly rejected his advances. Normally, a girl's objections
wouldn't have stopped him from taking what he wanted, but Balin had
found it far more amusing just to flirt with Poppy and watch her cheeks
burn with suppressed desire—just as they were right now.
As Balin expected,
Poppy wrenched herself from his grasp. "Honestly Rupert! We're
not schoolchildren anymore. Please, tell Agatha what happened so she
can inform the girl's parents. I've got to bandage those wounds and
get her into a hospital gown." Poppy ducked behind the curtain,
and once again Balin heard her utter the Cleaning Spell, followed by
the sound of another small crack.
Balin's stomach
suddenly contracted in unaccustomed fear, but he couldn't afford to
tarry. If Poppy did see the Dark Mark emblazoned on Veronica's chest
and he was still hanging around, she would immediately suspect him of
burning it into her. He could just kill them both, of course, but after
the events of the last hour, it would draw even more unwanted attention
to him. He decided to leave the hospital wing on his errand and hoped
Veronica would be clever enough to keep their secret. For her brother's sake, she had better.
~*~
Shortly after
Veronica changed into a hospital gown (it took more than a little doing
to convince Madam Pomfrey she could change her own clothes without doing
herself another injury), her brother Tim rushed to her bedside. It was
obvious he had been in the middle of Quidditch practice for he still
had his bright yellow uniform on. Whereas Veronica favored their mother,
Tim was fair-haired and pleasant-faced like their father.
He seemed relieved
when he saw her sitting up in bed, but his relief was clearly mixed
with anger when he eyed the bulky bandages on her wrists. "Mum
and Dad are on their way. How could you do something so bloody stupid,
Vee?"
The numbness
Veronica had been feeling melted away, leaving crushing shame in its
wake. She felt an unbearable tightness in her chest and a large lump
in her stomach. "I'm so sorry, Tim," she wailed, covering
her face with her hands.
After a moment,
she felt her brother's arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, too,"
he said gently. "You just scared us to death, that's all."
Veronica rested her head on his chest and continued to cry, grateful
that Tim seemed content to just hold her and not ask any more questions.
Her parents were
another matter…
"Vee, sweetheart,
why would you do this to yourself?" her mother asked tearfully
half a dozen times as she stroked her daughter's forehead. "If
there's something wrong you can tell your father and me. We love you
no matter what it is."
Veronica just
stared despondently into space, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
She couldn't tell them, of course. Even if she could, she wouldn't have
been able to bear the shame of them knowing what she had done. Balin
had raped and tortured her, but Veronica loved him in spite of it—perhaps
even because of it. And to make matters worse, he had saved her life!
She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the muddled memory of him bursting
in and rescuing her. She still loved him and she still wanted him. Surely,
her parents didn't deserve such a daughter.
Her father touched
her mother's arm when he saw Professors Sprout and Dumbledore enter
the room. They both went to speak with them in low, concerned tones;
they were soon joined by Madam Pomfrey. Veronica strained to hear what
they were saying.
"I'll do
what I can, but there will be scarring," the school nurse said
gravely.
"Why would
she do such a thing?" Mrs. Stanley sobbed.
Sprout put a
comforting arm around her shoulders. "Veronica has been rather
distracted lately—grades slipping; perhaps because of a boy? Nothing
can upset a young girl like a case of puppy love gone sour. I should
have told you, but I had no idea it would come to this."
A few moments
later, Professor Balin entered and approached them. Veronica felt her
heart flutter with both desire and fear. She thought she saw Professor
Dumbledore watching her out of the corner of his eye, then immediate
turn back to face the other adults.
"When she
didn't show up for my class," Rupert told her parents, "I
was concerned, but it never occurred to me she would cut herself. Very
unlike her. She's one of my best students."
After a few minutes,
he left the other adults to their fretting and drifted over to Veronica's
bedside. As he took the chair next to her bed, Veronica thought she
saw the Headmaster watching them, but again he looked away before she
could be certain.
Rupert kept his
face calm, but Veronica could see the burning rage in his eyes. "You
stupid, stupid girl!" he said in an angry
whisper. "Did they see it?"
Of course, she
knew it was the Dark Mark on her chest. She
shook her head slightly.
An almost imperceptible
expression of relief crossed his face. "Try something like this
again," he glanced at her parents and smiled unpleasantly, "and
I'll kill your entire family."
~*~
Balin left the
hospital wing quietly, satisfied that his illicit
secret was still safe. He reached the corridor, but stopped when he
heard his name called.
It was Veronica's
mother. For a moment, he felt as if he was looking into the future.
He had just now noticed how much the woman resembled her daughter. The
effect wasn't entirely unpleasant. The wild curls were somewhat smoothed
out and pulled back in a simple but attractive style. Her body was small,
but what he could see of the curve of her bosom and hips promised that
Veronica's boyish figure would transform into that of a woman's one
day.
If
he didn't kill her first.
"Pardon
me, Professor, but Madam Pomfrey just told me that if it hadn't been
for your quick action, Vee would have died." Quite unexpectedly,
Mrs. Stanley reached for Balin and took his hand. It might as well have
been on fire. And her eyes—filled with a mother's gratitude—made him
want to retch. It was all he could do to keep his expression even. "Bless
you," she blasphemed, "Bless you for saving my little girl."
Damn Poppy! A caustic remark stuck in his throat; he merely grunted and inclined
his head then sped away to the Great Hall for dinner. He looked at his
hand as though it was contaminated and wiped it against his robes. "Bloody
Hufflepuffs!"
Balin's normal
reaction would have been to eradicate them all, but he liked to watch
the eyes of those he murdered. He didn't think he could bear to look
into Mrs. Stanley's eyes again as he tortured her to death.
There was only
one thing to do; he had to leave off the girl. Impulse control was usually
not his forte, but as he got older Balin had been better able to see
the long-term costs and benefits of a particular course of action and
adapt his behavior accordingly.
He was done with
Veronica Stanley.
~*~
Balin had more
than his usual allotment of wine at dinner that evening, but it still
wasn't enough to clear his mind of one nagging question:
Why didn't I just let the little bitch die?
He could have
done so easily and been blameless, even under the eye of that impertinent
Miss Grey. Balin grinned evilly when he thought of her carrying out
the detention he'd assigned her tonight. Serves her
right for questioning his ever-questionable motives.
When Balin reached
his dungeon rooms, he went straight for his wine decanter then pushed
it aside. He opened his well-stocked liquor cabinet and poured himself
a tumbler full of Firewhiskey, drained it, then poured himself another
and drained that as well. But he could still see Veronica's eyes—the
look of love that was always just beyond the fear.
Why had she consumed
his thoughts these last two months since he'd burned her with the Dark
Mark and taken her? She was a homely, half-grown scarecrow of a girl.
He couldn't even fuck her properly; if he did, Balin would surely break
the fragile girl in half. Because of that, he had been forced to be
nauseatingly gentle. He got a particularly disgusted look on his face
and almost spat on his priceless Persian rug. Instead, he slunk down
on his Victorian chaise and continued to drink his third drink morosely.
Oh, he had been
gentle with her all right. Sometimes he would even pleasure the girl
in ways she could never hope to experience with anyone else. For some
reason, Balin took a perverse delight in hearing little Veronica squeal
his name and pull at his hair as he brought her to orgasm again and
again. The tenderness he showed her worried him at times, but then he
would apply thumbscrews to her big toes for a few minutes and feel like
himself again.
But he didn't
feel at all like himself tonight. He wanted nothing more than to be
with her now. To tie her up; to twist and bite her flesh painfully;
to see that look in her eyes that at once fascinated him and made his
skin crawl.
~*~
Veronica awoke
the next morning, unable to completely distinguish the reality of the
previous day's events from dream. Madam Pomfrey had given her a Sleeping
Draught last night and she was still a bit groggy.
Rupert had saved
her—that wasn't a dream. Her parents had spent the night and she vaguely
remembered Tim coming in to visit her before classes. She tried to remember
the strange looks she thought Professor Dumbledore had given Rupert
last night, but she still wasn't sure if she'd imagined the whole thing.
And then there was the strange dream she'd had about the Headmaster;
he had been standing over her bed, chanting something she couldn't recall…
The oddest thing
of all was that she felt better and stronger today than she had in months.
At her urging and with Madam Pomfrey's assurances,
Veronica was able to convince her parents to return to their wizard
curio shop in Manchester for the rest of the day.
After classes,
Tim visited her and they played a few games of Exploding Snap. After
the third game, Veronica's attention wandered. "Was everyone talking
about…what happened?"
"The whole
House is worried about you," he replied, avoiding her question.
"They're just glad you're all right." He paused and gave her
his severest look. "Just promise me you'll never, ever do anything
like that ever again."
Veronica vividly
recalled Rupert's threat to murder her entire family if she did. "I
won't. I promise."
"Is it true
that Professor Balin actually saved you?"
She nodded. "The
whole thing's a bit of a muddle, but yeah, he actually saved me."
Tim shook his
head in disbelief. "The only decent thing he's ever done in his
life, I'll wager."
Veronica tried
not to smile, but failed. "I'm sure he had an ulterior motive.
I mean, if I had croaked he wouldn't be able to pick on me anymore."
"That explains
it," Tim laughed, thankfully not understanding the subtext of what
his sister had just said. "If you're joking about it already, you
really must be feeling better." He glanced towards the infirmary's
double doors. "Here's Rosalie. I asked her to come by because I
have to go to Quidditch practice. You mind?"
"No, of
course not," Veronica replied. "You've already missed one
practice because of me."
Tim mussed her
hair playfully. "I'll be back later." He said a quick hello-goodbye
to Rosalie as he rushed passed her. Rosalie followed him out the door
with her eyes, sighing wistfully. Veronica knew she had a crush on her
brother, but Tim was absolutely clueless.
He was well out
of sight before Rosalie finally took a seat at Veronica's bedside. She
placed some books and parchment on the bed. "Here's your homework,
but only if you're feeling up to it."
"I am actually,"
Veronica told her. "I was getting bored just lying here."
The girls sat there in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Rosalie
kept glancing at the bandages around Veronica's wrists, looking as if
she was desperate to say something Veronica would be equally desperate
to hear, but wasn't quite sure how to begin.
"Balin tried
to take all of Hufflepuff's points away after
what happened yesterday," Rosalie burst out finally, "but
Professor Sprout objected, so we didn't lose any. I did get detention
though—for being cheeky."
Veronica leaned
forward. "What did he make you do?"
Rosalie looked
away. "He made me clean up the girls' loo—you know,
all the blood."
Veronica closed
her eyes, once again overwhelmed with guilt. "I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't
as bad as all that," Rosalie said kindly. "He didn't say I
couldn't use magic, and since he wasn't watching me...Anyway, you should
have seen him yesterday. It was bizarre."
"How d'you mean?" Veronica did her best to sound only casually
interested in the details, but it was all she could do to not reach
inside Rosalie and pull out the words herself.
"It was
so weird," she began. "It was like he actually cared if you
lived or died. When I told him you were in trouble, I never saw anyone
move so fast in my entire life. He ran down the corridor, burst in the
loo and after he stopped the bleeding, he swept you up in his arms—it
was almost..."
"Romantic,"
Veronica whispered dreamily before she could stop herself. She had been
so caught up in Rosalie's account that the word just came out of her
mouth before she could even think about it.
Rosalie regarded
Veronica with horror. "God, no! I was
going to say, 'human'. How could you even think
that word in reference to Balin?" She laughed nervously. "If
I didn't know better, I'd say you fancied him."
"Of course
I don't!" Veronica quickly protested, but she could sense her cheeks
burning and was beginning to feel a bit dizzy.
"Then why
are you blushing?" Rosalie's pretty face went ashen. "You
do fancy him!"
Veronica turned
on her friend and grabbed her arms. She fixed Rosalie with the most
commanding stare she could manage. The fact that Rosalie appeared a
bit frightened told Veronica she was doing it right. "Have you
told anyone else what you just told me?"
"No,"
she said, shaking her head vigorously. "Professor Sprout told me
to keep the details to myself."
Veronica tightened
her grip, making Rosalie wince. "You must swear to me that you'll
not repeat any of it to anyone!"
"Okay, I
swear." Rosalie tried to free herself from Veronica's grasp. "Just
let me go, you're scaring me."
Veronica released
her and slumped back on her pillows. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying
to keep you out of trouble. If Balin heard you spreading tales about
him, he'd assign you worse detentions than cleaning up blood."
"He gives
you detention all the time," she said, rubbing her arm. "What
does he make you do?"
Veronica looked
down at her hands, her pained features mirroring the torture in her
heart.
Rosalie's eyes
grew wide with horrified realization. "Oh my god," she breathed.
"He's doing you, isn't he? That's why you hurt yourself!"
"Thanks
for coming by and dropping off my homework," Veronica said with
a warning look. "I'm a bit tired now, so I think I'll take a nap."
Rosalie put a
firm hand on her shoulder. "Vee, you've got to tell someone!"
"Rosalie,
don't make me Obliviate you," Veronica
hissed dangerously. "Forget this conversation or I will make you
forget."
Shaking her head
in disbelief, Rosalie gathered up her books and almost ran from the
hospital wing.
Veronica buried
her head in the pillow and started to weep. Why
couldn't he just let me die?
~*~
Though it would
have been more comfortable to put his feet elsewhere, Balin rested them
on the corner of Dumbledore's desk while he waited for the old wizard
to make his appearance. Normally he wouldn't have been too worried that
the Headmaster had called him in for a private meeting—they had these
little pissing contests periodically ever since he had become a Hogwarts'
professor and Slytherin Head of House. But none of his students had
attempted suicide virtually right outside his classroom door before.
Considering what he had put some of them through over the years, Balin
found it somewhat surprising that Veronica was the first.
After nearly
a quarter of an hour, Dumbledore finally decided to grace him with his
lofty presence, but Balin remained where he was. The old man's eyes
fell to younger wizard's feet propped up on his desk with obvious displeasure.
Balin waited several beats before he voiced an insincere apology and
removed them.
With a sigh,
the Headmaster took his chair. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting,
Rupert."
"I doubt
that, Albus," he replied wryly. "Keeping me waiting is just
your subtle way of reminding me which one of us has the bigger…"
Balin's eyes traveled downward to a part of Dumbledore's anatomy blocked
by the desk, then up again to meet the older man's gaze. "…office."
Dumbledore clucked
his tongue. "Yes, quite. I'll get directly to the point. Miss Stanley
will be returning to classes on Monday. I wanted to be certain that
all of her teachers treat her with sensitivity and compassion, without
singling her out."
Balin looked
around him as if he just realized they were alone. "Why aren't
the others here for this little speech of yours?"
Dumbledore gave
him a humorless grin. "Well, you see Rupert; you are the only one
of her teachers who doesn't seem to understand what being sensitive
and compassionate actually entails."
"I saved
the girl's life, and this is how you treat me?" Balin said huffily,
doing his best to look offended.
Dumbledore stood
and towered over him menacingly. "I've been looking over Miss Stanley's
school records, and I couldn't help but notice that you have taken more
house points from her than from any other student. You've also assigned
her an excessive number of detentions."
Balin stared
up at him with a bored expression. "The girl is an irritant. She
constantly challenges my authority in that class. I have no choice but
to punish her for it."
"According
to all of her other teachers, Miss Stanley is a delightful, intelligent
girl who has never given any of them a moment's trouble." Dumbledore
pause and narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe that Veronica chose
to try to take her life at the time and the place she did by accident."
Balin rose slowly, an unpleasant sneer on his face. "You're
blaming me for that girl's brainless stunt? Has she said something—?"
"She hasn't
said a word," Dumbledore replied, eyeing him with suspicion. "Not
one word about why she might have done
it, which in itself is interesting."
Balin snorted.
"Fascinating. So, what would you like me to do?"
"I want
you to stop bullying her. If you have future discipline problems with
the girl, you are to bring them to me and then I
will decide if punishment is warranted."
"Fine,"
Balin said with a thin-lipped smile. "Miss Stanley can swing from
the chandelier if she likes and I will not say a word to her."
Dumbledore settled
himself behind his desk, fixing Balin with a last warning look. "I'll
be watching, Rupert."
Balin grinned
widely as he sauntered towards the door. "Aren't you always?"
~*~
It was nearly
the end of Veronica's first day back in classes and so far things had
gone fine. Hufflepuffs being Hufflepuffs, Veronica had more well-wishes
and supportive glances than a girl who had just slashed her wrists could
hope for. Now all that was left was Defense Against
the Dark Arts.
She felt Rosalie
quickly grab and squeeze her hand just before they entered Balin's classroom,
which Veronica answered with a stern glance. As the students filed in,
Veronica noticed that Rupert wasn't in his usual place behind his desk,
waiting for her. He was standing in front of the blackboard, writing
something on it with his wand. She took her usual seat in the front
row and read what he had just written:
Read Chapter 12
Answer the questions at the end
of the chapter
Turn them in at the end of class.
The bell rang
and Balin turned, carefully avoiding Veronica's eyes. In fact, he didn't
even glance in her direction. "Follow the instructions on the board.
If you have any questions, keep them to yourself." He then sat
down behind his desk without so much as a sneer, and began grading papers.
Veronica stared
at him in surprise for a moment, but he didn't look up. She thought
she heard a few sighs of relief at not having to suffer through one
of Balin's lectures, or worse, practical lessons, but Veronica immediately
understood that this was his way of punishing her for cutting herself.
Rupert knew that
Defense Against the Dark Arts was her favorite
subject, in spite of (as well as because of) its brutal professor. He
had taught her more about the Dark Arts than she could have ever learned
from anyone else, though most of that knowledge had come from cruel,
first-hand experience.
When she realized
that Rupert was going to continue ignoring her, she pulled out her textbook
and started reading as he had directed. When she turned in her assignment
at the sound of the bell, he still didn't look up. Veronica hoped that
the tearstains on her parchment would be enough to let him know that
he had succeeded in hurting her.
~*~
Almost two weeks
had passed and the fifth-year Hufflepuffs were still the only Defense
Against the Dark Arts class that was forced to learn the subject
from reading their textbooks. As Veronica suspected, the rest of her
classmates were over the moon about it, but she felt cheated.
Even worse was
that Rupert had not called for her since her suicide attempt. There
were no notes on her homework, written in Disappearing For-Your-Eyes-Only
Ink, specifying the time he expected her in his rooms as well as a brief
(and usually filthy) description of what he planned to do to her once
she got there; nor were there any self-destructing messages hidden under
her pillow or written out in her peas at dinner.
Veronica knew
she should be grateful that he had apparently decided to leave her alone,
but as sick as it was, she missed him dreadfully. Her love for Rupert
had not abated and her heart ached more each day he withheld his attention.
She didn't dare let her anguish show, however. She had to present a
cheerful front to her brother, Rosalie and the rest of Hufflepuff House
or they'd be sure to tell Professor Sprout, who would in turn tell her
parents. The only time she could vent her feelings was late at night
when she cried into her pillow with her bed curtains drawn.
After a fortnight
of enduring Rupert's newest form of torture, Veronica could stand it
no longer. She had to speak to him, even though she knew he'd punish
her for it. She awoke in the middle of the night and made certain that
the other girls in her dormitory were still asleep. Then she cast a
spell on her bed, so that if anyone casually peeked in on her there
would be the illusion of her sleeping peacefully. She took a handful
of Floo Powder and descended the stairs to
the common room. Normally, the student dormitory fireplaces could not
access other parts of the castle, but Rupert had created a special blend
of Floo Powder that allowed her to reach his
dungeon rooms through the common room fireplace.
Veronica stepped
in and said clearly but quietly, "Rupert's room," and disappeared
with a silent flash. It took less than a second to reach his fireplace.
She truly didn't care what he would do to her when he discovered her.
She was so miserable without him; she almost welcomed a night of torture.
She started to turn towards his bedroom, expecting him to be asleep
at this late hour, but she saw the flickering of a candle coming from
the drawing room.
She heard footsteps
tread softly over the oriental carpet, and then Rupert emerged from
the shadows, his anger at her unexpected arrival visible in his hard
blue eyes. She had expected him to be angry; what was unusual was that
he was holding a drink in his hand—and from the way he was slightly
weaving back and forth, Veronica guessed it wasn't his first. She had
seen him drink wine in the past, but she had never seen him drunk before.
"Miss Stanley,"
he said, faintly slurring his speech. "Until just now, I was convinced
that your little accident was merely a pathetic cry for help, but now
I realize that you really do have a death wish." His bloodshot
eyes narrowed. "How dare you come to my rooms uninvited?"
He gulped the contents of the tumbler, then
broke out in an almost pleasant smile. "But now that you're here…"
He motioned for her to follow him into the drawing room and take a seat
on the divan. He poured two drinks and handed her one. "I hate
to drink alone."
Veronica sniffed
it. "It's Firewhiskey."
He settled back
on his cushy chaise. "You've imbibed before?"
"My Uncle
Martin gave me Firewhiskey at a party when I was ten." She swallowed
a sudden wave of nausea. "I got sick."
"Well, Veronica,
you're fifteen now. It's time you learned to hold your liquor. In other
words, don’t vomit on my rug."
Veronica took
a small sip, trying to mask her disgust, and placed the glass on the
side table. True to its name, the Firewhiskey burned her throat, but
she managed to keep it down. Rupert sipped his own drink and stared
at her, until she started squirming in her seat.
"Don't leave
us in suspense," he began in a lighthearted tone that quickly became
dangerous, "why are you here?"
"I-I-I—"
"I-I-I—"
he mocked. "Speak, girl, before I rip your tongue out!"
"I don’t
know why I came here!" she yelled in frustration. "It's just
that you've been ignoring me…"
"And you
missed me, eh?" He laughed, then abruptly
stopped, his expression deadly. "That's it, isn't it?"
Before she could
answer, Rupert shot off his chaise and onto the divan next to her, his
hand around Veronica's throat. "After everything I've done to you,
you should hate me, but you don't—do you?" Veronica's vision started
to blur as she felt herself losing consciousness. He loosened his grip
and backhanded her across the face. "You stupid little bitch!"
"If you
hate me so much," Veronica screamed through her tears, "why
didn't you just let me die?"
Rupert suddenly
rose and started pacing. Veronica rubbed her face and neck, glancing
at him fearfully. She was surprised to see a bit of uncertainty in his
eyes.
"First of
all, the hour of your death will be of my choosing, not yours. Second…"
he hesitated. The uncertainty was still there, but his expression was
stony and pitiless. "I don't hate you. I don't hate at all. Nor
do I love. Nor do I care."
"Why?"
Veronica almost asked, What's wrong with you? Thankfully, she stopped
herself.
"I was certain
you would have guessed by now." He settled back on his chaise and
patted his knee. "Come, sit."
Veronica wondered
if it was just the alcohol that was making him more unstable than usual
tonight, but she didn't dare defy him. She wiped her tears on the sleeve
of her dressing gown and approached him gingerly. With an impatient
grunt, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.
"Comfortable?" he asked as she timidly wrapped her arms around
his neck.
It seemed like
ages since she had sat in his lap like this. As long as he wasn't pinching,
biting or otherwise abusing her in some way, there was nowhere she would
rather be. Veronica was certain he'd hit her again if she told him that,
so she just shrugged noncommittally.
"Now, my
angel," Rupert began, gently brushing a few stray curls out of
her face. "I'm going to tell you a secret and if I see a flicker
of pity in your eyes, I swear I'll slit your throat."
Veronica suddenly
wished he was pinching her, so her eyes wouldn't betray her. Instead
she bit the inside of her mouth until she tasted blood.
Rupert's blue
eyes bored into hers as if he was trying to convey his secret without
words. What she saw there—or more accurately, what she didn't see there—made
her shiver as it always did. No matter how deeply she looked, she couldn't
find even a shred of humanity inside of him.
"You can
see it," he whispered, "but your ridiculous Hufflepuff sensibilities
won't allow you to admit the truth. The reason why I've turned out so
brilliantly is that I was fortunate enough to be born without a soul.
That is why I have been spared the agony of being ruled by useless emotions
like hate—"
"Or love,"
she said, trying not to fully process his revelation lest he make good
on his threat.
Rupert grabbed
a handful of her curls and twisted them painfully, yanking Veronica's
head back as far as it would go. "Or love—your favorite emotion,
if I'm not mistaken." He continued to twist her hair until she
cried out. "Why, exactly, is that?"
"I was born
that way," she whimpered. "Just like you were born the way
you are."
He released her
abruptly and shoved her off his lap onto the rug, then rose and pulled
out his wand. "I see. And if I do this—" He pointed his wand
at her and bellowed, "CRUCIO!"
Veronica started
to writhe and scream when she felt the Cruciatus Curse take hold of
her. She had learned that not resisting the curse lessened the pain
slightly, so she tried to let it pass through her as best she could.
Rupert loomed
over her. "Do you still love me, Veronica?"
Even though it
felt like her brain was bursting inside of her head, she managed to
shriek, "YES!"
Unexpectedly,
the pain stopped. Veronica turned on her side and coughed, trying not
to retch.
Rupert started
to laugh. "You are positively…" he paused, searching for the
right word, "indescribable, my angel."
Veronica turned
onto her back again, taking in slow, deep breaths. Rupert got down on
his knees and straddled her. He took her hands in his and studied the
healed wounds on her wrists, lightly tracing his seals with his thumbs.
After two months as his lover/victim, Veronica still couldn't predict
whether or not he was finished torturing her for the night, but for
the moment he seemed content to stroke her with relative tenderness
and leer at her.
She met his eyes
and smiled tentatively. In the past, Veronica imagined she could see
her love reflected there, but now that she knew for certain that he
was incapable of any human emotion, she finally admitted to herself
that it was merely an illusion. She felt tears well in her eyes and
blinked them away.
Rupert leaned
over her until he was lying on top of her, stretching her arms above
her head. He nuzzled her neck, lightly nipping at her delicate flesh.
With a sharp intake of breath, Veronica started to moan. He lifted his
head and then pressed his mouth against hers. His kisses were as hard
as his eyes; sometimes she wondered if he was trying to devour her.
She had learned to take pleasure in his idea of lovemaking and responded
with equal urgency. He finally released her arms, allowing her to wrap
herself around him. She could feel his fingers popping the buttons on
her pajamas and then his cool hands kneading her breasts. Veronica arched
her back, pressing her body against his. She started pulling his hair
and calling out his name…
~*~
"Feeling
all right then, Vee?"
"Yes, Rosalie,"
Veronica replied with a forced smile. "I'm all right."
"It's weird,
but the whole thing's a bit of a blur. Must've been
the shock of seeing all that blood." Rosalie regarded Veronica
with slight confusion. "There was a lot of blood, wasn't there?"
Veronica absentmindedly
smashed her potatoes on her dinner plate with her fork and sighed patiently.
Rosalie was a dear girl, but she didn't know when to stop talking; which
was why Veronica was forced to Obliviate her,
in order to erase the memories of their dangerous conversation about
Balin. Her spell had also affected Rosalie's memory of the suicide attempt
itself, which suited Veronica just fine. "If it's all the same
to you, I'd rather not talk about it anymore."
Rosalie looked
a bit hurt, but murmured, "Sure, sorry." The blonde girl turned
back to her own dinner, then started chatting
with Tim who was sitting on Rosalie's other side.
As Veronica stared
at her plate listlessly, her peas started moving of their own accord
until they formed the number twelve. Rupert expected her in his rooms
at midnight. The dread mixed with lustful anticipation at
the prospect being in his arms again seemed to be the only genuine spark
of life left in her, though she still managed to seem lifelike enough
in front of her classmates and other teachers, so they wouldn't worry
unduly about her mental state. And now that she had freely gone back
to Rupert, she certainly didn’t deserve their compassion or concern.
Veronica had
been Rupert's victim for the first two months of his abuse, but now
she was a willing participant in his torments. The shame of it was destroying
her soul, but she didn't feel herself worthy of the peace that a successful
suicide attempt would bring. She had chosen him as her lover/torturer
and she deserved whatever pain, physical or emotional, he chose to inflict
upon her.
Without closing
her eyes, Veronica conjured up an image of Rupert's plate in her mind.
As she uttered the spell silently, she could see his peas forming the
shape of a smile in her mind's eye. She waited a few beats before she
casually looked up towards the staff table.
Rupert took a
sip of his wine, catching her eyes briefly over the rim of his glass.
He had received her message and so their strange romance continued.
~*~*~
finis
Last updated: 11 September 2003 by Hecate
Return to La Société des Femmes Dangereuses
|