~TW: This chapter contains content that might be upsetting, including mentions of sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.~

***

Eyes looked at the entrant in disdain as Narcissa Malfoy stepped in, supporting Eleanor. Only one pair of eyes, serpentine red in color, lit up in delight.

"Miss Troy, what a pleasure that you were able to join us," he remarked, watching her flinch as Narcissa helped her to her seat.

No matter how much he wanted Eleanor to be seated close to him, he couldn't overlook the rules he had set himself. She was a lower rank Death Eater currently so she had to be seated at the end of the table.

His eyes had curiously observed that she still looked very pale and seemed unable to walk without support. She should have recovered by then, he thought, Narcissa's potions had never taken that long to heal anyone.

Or perhaps the punishment he had wrecked upon her was too much for her delicate body to bear.

There could be other possibilities for her declining health too, the foremost being that she had been stuck in a paradox for too long, and by the time she was able to break out of it, it had started to physically damage her.

Therefore, she was paler and weaker, slowly losing her strength to fight back.

The meeting began and he got occupied with discussing his plans with the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had given him the good news that the Ministry was now fully under their hold so it would be easier for them to take over the wizarding world.

Eleanor sat in silence, her heart churning to hear all that was in store for the Order and the innocent witches and wizards who would get hurt by the Death Eaters taking power. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and she tried her best not to let her tears fall.

At last, the meeting came to an end and one by one, his followers began to disperse.

Narcissa had told Eleanor to wait for her but just as the woman had approached her, the Dark Lord's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Narcissa, I wish to have a word with Miss Troy in private," he remarked, stepping closer to them and watching Eleanor stiffen in her seat, "you are dismissed."

"Yes, my Lord," she had no option but to leave and that made Eleanor worried upon seeing that she would be alone with Lord Voldemort.

With her gone and the door closing behind him, Voldemort's silken tone dropped to that of a lethal whisper. "How are you faring now, love? Has Narcissa been taking good care of you?"

She nodded in reply, finding her voice go dry in her throat to see him leaning closer.

She knew not how he had inflicted those bruises on her that night but she definitely did not want to go through that pain again.

His eyes traveled up and down her body as if the garment covering her was see-through and she felt terribly uncomfortable. However, that discomfort turned to alarm as he spoke, "stand up, Eleanor, on your feet. Now."

She shakily stood up, holding onto the table and his eyes observed her closely still, as if trying to assess whether she was actually hurt or not.

"Come here, love," a shadow darkened his face as he beckoned her closer. His blood-red eyes were still focused on her suspiciously. "If you don't come by yourself, I'll summon you and you will not like that."

She shuddered, taking a few steps closer but stumbled. It wasn't that she was hurt which made her unable to walk. She was just trembling in fear and to him, seeing her that frightened of what he could do to her was almost delicious.

He could satiate himself on that feeling for days.

"My dear, you'll have to put on a better act than this if you want to convince me that you're still hurt," he sneered, noting in amusement how she drew back in alarm. "Accio Eleanor."

With the summoning charm being used, she couldn't escape as she hurtled forward, stopping close enough for him to wrap his arms around her and bring her even closer.

She resisted but he had pulled her to himself, his grip unbreakable and his breath fanning down on her neck as he held her tightly. Just like a snake coiled around its prey, his arms captured her in a firm grip that she couldn't get out of.

"You seem well enough to me up close," he remarked, his eyes lingering onto the soft white skin of her neck, "the bruises are gone and you can walk by yourself too. Narcissa should have told me that earlier."

She stiffened to hear that, realizing that Narcissa could get in trouble as a result of helping her fake illness to keep Voldemort away.

"Ah my sweet Eleanor, still worrying so much about others when you should have been worrying about yourself. Fret not, I will not hurt your lovely new friend. But in return, I might have to hurt you instead."

His mouth was dangerously close to her neck such that his breath made her hair stand on one end in alarm. And seeing her like that made him feel even better than before.

It was like drinking straight from a cup that bestowed power. And no doubt that drink was intoxicating and he could get high off the authority he held in the moment.

His bony hand clamped her mouth shut to muffle out her screams while the other arm looped over her body, holding her tightly in place. She squirmed and struggled to break free but couldn't as his grip was unbreakable.

Ravishing the sight of her being almost helpless against him, his mouth locked onto that soft white skin he had been eyeing hungrily earlier.

She struggled against his hold but couldn't break free as he began tainting her skin again, marking his territory as he covered her neck with bluish-purple marks. Each inch of her skin exposed to him had been bitten and bruised all over again, making her writhe in pain but to no avail.

His hand that was clamped on her mouth was getting wet by the tears that streaked down her cheeks but he had no heart that could be melted by those tears. He had gone stone cold and even more vicious over the past many years of diving deep into dark magic.

"You are mine, Eleanor," he whispered, releasing his hand from her mouth at last, "and I will never let you go. Never."

She gasped for breath, shaking in alarm once again as she felt his hand creep underneath her dress. He clamped her mouth shut again as he began to tear her apart, muffling out her screams of pain and distress.

It was almost as if he enjoyed the fact that she was in pain due to him and wasn't going to consent to anything he would do to her.

But a simple no couldn't stop the Dark Lord now, could it? He would still do to her exactly what he wanted to and she had no choice but to endure it.

***