The Dark Order (HP RP: Retro and Atom)

RetroWitchcraft

RetroWitchcraft

Star
Joined
Jun 24, 2011
Location
The Basement
There was little choice in the matter. All of their herbs had either died in their attempts to make their own garden or had been nibbled on by hungry rabbits. Many things had rested on having the right spell and potion components. Unlike Muggles, who could easily improvise with swapping one thing with another, magic was a precise art. Even the most unstable of potions had to be mixed just right. It was a chore but Roslyn was never much for potions.

Her skill lain in spell work and, more precisely, spell work that could cause a lot of damage. Very much like the wielder, the magic she was most akin to was combative. Hexes were another thing she could do without much effort. She could that potions drudgery to her subordinates. Fetching supplies for said potions, however, would be a job for her and three other people who could throw spells like her.

With the way the Wizarding War had ended, Death Eaters were everywhere; crawling like the filthy bugs that they were. That infestation was something Roslyn planned to eradicate completely.

The wall that had been separating Diagon Alley and the muggle world had been utterly obliterated. Like Voldermort had promised, regular humans fell beneath the yolk of wizards and the first step in that was exposing them to the witching world in the most brutal of ways. Slavery of muggles had become a rather popular sport. As she and the three others walked in she could see many with collars around their necks and being lead by leashes. Some were dressed in normal clothes, others had been given silks, still others were dressed as a house elf might be in rags and bits of things that should never have been on the body, and (disgustingly enough) there were the select few that were forced to be dragged around completely nude.

She turned to her fellows, pulling back her hood ever so slightly, revealing the fiery red locks and brilliant blue eyes beneath the shadow of it.

“We will have to break up to find what we need. If we travel in a group of four it might seem suspicious.” She leaned in close to whisper to them and, in the noise of the crowd, her words were nearly lost. “We can’t make it too long. Even dressed as rouge witch hunters, we may draw suspicions.”

A young man stepped forward and nodded his head. “I will go towards the old bookstore; near the entrance of Knockturn.”

"Right, Faust." The woman returned the hood fully to her head and nodded. “I will go to the places where the rest of you don’t feel comfortable, alright?”

A sheepish sort a girl with brown hair nodded. "I heard that the new shop owner for the potions supplies store is just dreadful."


"Then that is where I will go, Moira."
 
The man had grey hair, but he was not old. He had lost track of his birthdate, Voldemort never really liked keeping such things. He moved slowly into Diagon Alley, familiar masked and hooded men patrolled and stood guard, yet even they feared him. He was a notorious Death Eater. He changed the war by himself. The deaths of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and countless other in the Order and at the Battle of Hogwarts had come by his wand. He was a skilled duelist, and an even better wizard. His name? Andrew Silvermane.

As he moved into the alley, a young muggle boy stopped and tried to shine his shoes. Silvermane stopped and allowed him to continue, and when he was finished and was looking at Silvermane with big eyes hoping for a big tip, Silvermane just shoved his hand in his pocket, grasped some of the Bronze and Silver pieces they knew as currency and threw the change into the street, sending the small boy scrambling. Then, as he simply continued with his day.

The slow, almost wandering pace continued towards the pub, where he stopped in for a drink with some of his fellow Deatheaters. As he sipped his beer, he glanced around. Something caught his eye. It was a small hooded boy. He seemed to be watching the Death Eaters at this particular pub intently. Smiling, he stood up and made his way towards the bar for another drink, stopping at the boy. "Anything I can help you with?" He asked.

The boy's name was Micha. He was apart of the small cohort that was with Roslyn. The pub was usually a calm place, and it was always easy to survey, but on today of all days, that bastard Silvermane was here. Before he could say one word, Silvermane grabbed Micha by the back of his neck and threw him into some barstools. Immediatley the crowd got quiet and stood and looked at Silvermane. "What is your purpose." Silvermane stated plain fact, drawing his wand and pointing at Micha.

Though this was not a good situation, Micha just tried to inch towards a wall or something. He spit a bit of blood and managed to utter a croak. "I. .. " He stammered, looking potentially in the face of death. He needed to tell the others, he knew the policy was to not leave a man behind in a sticky situation, but he was done for. There was no way he would be able to get out of this, even with the others. He met the eyes of Faust in the window of the pub and looked back towards Silvermane. "Fuck you." He said, spitting on the man's nice shoes. With that, the room illuminated in a green light, and one more voice from the resistance fell silent.
 
There was nothing Faust could do but watch in terror as Micha was slain. The killing curse worked too quickly to stop it. A flash of green light would make the large bay window that looked into the seedy little tavern bright for a moment. The other Death Eaters watched on in amusement while some muggle pets balked and pressed themselves against their owner’s legs. Such instant death seemed to frighten them considerably.

Instantly Faust turned away and pulled out what appeared to be a Chocolate Frog card. On the front a strangely still Dumbledore looked up. Looking at it would show that it was not an actual card. He took out his wand and tapped it quickly to call the others. They needed to get the body out of there. The Dark Lord was a master when it came to Inferi and it was best not to risk their friend becoming one. Not only that, but Roslyn insisted on proper burials for all of her subordinates.

As the card against her skin tingled Roslyn knew instantly that something was wrong. She had barely made it to the new potion’s shop. She looked up and saw Faust in the crowd, his expression was dim. Desperately she began to push her way through the crowd, withdrawing her wand. Some of the more aggressive witches and wizards tried their hand at making her pay for her rudeness, but she stunned them with blazing red sparks each time. A path of crumpled men and women fell behind her. Her hood fell down exposing her hair in a main of thick waves and unruly curls and at that point she was getting too much attention.

“Where?!” Was all she said to Faust and he pointed in the way of the tavern. Both made their way into it.

Moira found her way in as well, slipping in casually through the door. The Brown eyed, freckled faced girl blended in quite well to the background. It made her particularly useful to trips like this. That and her uncanny abilities for Charms were a great asset even though she was shy.

Instantly Roslyn spotted the body of her ally and she swore loudly. “Fuck me with a rail! Dirty, fucking, son of a-“

“Ros we have bigger problems…” Moira squeaked. Her green eyes widened a moment as she looked around. They were quickly being surrounded. The three survivors pressed their backs to each other.

Faust smirked. “You call this big? We’ve fought more and lived to tell the tale.”
 
The little girl's comments made the crowd of Death Eaters burst with laughter. Apparently, they didn't know who they were dealing with. Silvermane was still not visible to the three who were now shrouded within a circle of Death Eaters. Silvermane was crouching over the body of the boy he had just slain, just checking him out. He had seen this type before, and Andrew Silvermane was not stupid. Digging through his pockets, and finding the chocolate frog card, he slid it into his pocket and grabbed the wand.

Standing straight up again, he looked to see what all the commotion was about. Moving toward the group and hearing the banter back and forth between the Death Eaters and the group dressed similarly to the boy. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh. Why did these pesky groups always spring up? First it was "The Boy who lived" and his stupid friends, then one Mr. Neville Longbottom had an uprising, which Silvermane personally shut down, and now it was this. Why can't people just learn to be obedient?

As he walked towards them and pushed through the group, he looked down. He stood at 6'4, and just his very essence there seemed to dim the lights. If he would have been keeping count of his kills, like some muggle pilots do on the side of their planes, there would be far too many to count. He was not afraid of some stupid kids who thought they were going to make a difference in this world. Looking at the group and giving a nod, a flurry of Expellarumus spells came from the crowd disarming the three in front.

"Do you know who I am?" Silvermane asked with a smile.

He waited for a second as the Death Eaters recovered the fallen wands. Now they were nothing more than stupid muggles. How cute, they dressed alike and they were all fighting for the same cause. However, the Harry Potter incident only made the Death Eaters better. They knew what to look for, Voldemort had made more Horcruxes to replace the ones that the Potter boy had destroyed, and the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucious Malfoy, whom had almost lost the war for them had been dealt with. Silvermane was a new breed of Death Eater.

The man was cruel. He looked at the group in front of him, yet something inside him told him not to deal with these as he dealt with the others. He enjoyed his job, he enjoyed causing pain, yet he felt as though he could make an example of these runts.

"Go ahead. You may speak." He said, with a calm voice.
 
There were murmurs throughout the crowd as their wands went flying. The redhead was becoming quite the outlaw according to their whispers. A slight smile crossed her lips. It was true that she had become the poster child of that particular rebellion. She was beautiful and fiery and, desirably enough, a pureblood. Her wild magic had shocked and awed many; compared to her numbers she had taken down a good percentage of Death Eaters and loyalist to Lord Voldermort. In a twisted way most of them respected her aplomb and tenacity.

Both she and Moira shot a look towards Faust, who simply nodded. They knew their task at the moment. Faust had, with his particular skills, saved them more than once. He was a master of wandless magic and occulemency. Sticky spots like this were his forte as it were.

Distraction was what the girls had to do.

“No, should I?” Roslyn asked with wide-eyed innocence. Though she knew bloody well who she was speaking with. This man was much more notorious than any other Death Eater she knew. He had been responsible for so many deaths and the very sight of him was repulsive.

“Santa Claus, I think. He’s just shaved the beard.” Moira chipped in. There was a quake to the girl’s tone that Roslyn wished did not show.

“Santa what? Is that some fucking muggle bullshit?”

“You said a swear! Now he won’t give us presents like mummy and daddy said he would.”

Their childish banter did distract most of the Death Eaters in the room. Some of the muggle pets giggled at the act before them but were quickly silenced by the pull of their leashes and even some slaps across the face. Faust was quick to work. Three wands came flying back to their rightful owners and each made a grab for their own.

As soon as Roslyn felt hers in her grip she aimed all around. “Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!” Three shots were fired at the closest ones. More red sparks were flying from Faust’s wand but not a word was said as he fired them off in a much more rapid succession than Roslyn could manage.

However, poor Moira’s wand had missed its target and she fells to the floor to scoop it up as quickly as she could. “My wand!”

Death Eaters fell around them and Roslyn had to move to dodge stunning curses herself. A shrill bit of laughter escaped her. The thrill of this sort of game was what she liked the best. It was dangerous, yes, but she knew she was going to go out somehow, so why not with a blaze of glory?
 
The other Death Eaters were too easy to distract. They just allowed some kids to outsmart them. He saw the little exchange that the red head and the boy had and soon enough he was hit by a Stupify curse. His anger started to build, yet his face still remained calm. Their leader was good. He was a big enough man to admit that. However, he was sick of these childish games. The catalyst for this whole ordeal was that fucking boy. He would be the first. Then, he would kill that clumsy sniveling runt who was looking for her wand. Finally, he would torture their leader, find out where all the others were hiding and then he would exterminate them.

Getting to his feet and dodging yet another Stupify, he watched his subordinates run around with their heads cut off. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. He seemed to melt into the chaos around them. Death Eaters were flying all around and he heard her shrill laughter. This is what put him over the edge. He needed to find an opening. His plan was perfect. He would make them suffer that was for damn sure.

As the red sparks fell from his wand, Faust was enjoying himself. This was almost too easy. They were slowly paving their way towards the door and their escape. THey had been in worse situations and they had actually been able to get out of most of them. As they moved towards the door, Faust looked at Roslyn. He had always had a thing for her, and when they got out of THIS situation, he would make it apparent. However. . .

"AVADA KEDAVRA"

The green light was a blur and it hit him right in the chest. Immediatly dropping his wand, he fell to his knees and looked up at the girls still moving towards the door. A little gasp escaped his lips as the world faded to black. He never got to tell her, he never got his way. Right when he had enough courage to, he was struck down. To be honest, this was probably his fault. He had gotten cocky and this was the consequence. He completely forgot about Silvermane.
 
“Faust!” Roslyn’s voice shattered the din.

She had caught the green light out of the corner of her eye. In the loud noises of the ferocious battle she could not hear the shout of the killing curse or else she would have attempted to set the source off his or her balance. That was a common tactic of hers, after all; to barrel into someone with fist flailing and wand forgotten. It was with the upmost horror that she watched him fall. In truth, she had developed feelings for him as well. He had always been so strong, clever, and confident that she sometimes felt as if she could follow him with wide, puppy eyes like all of the other girls in their small rebellion did.

Instantly anger boiled inside of her and she jumped over Moira, whom had found her wand and was aiming well placed Jelly-Leg at the legs of their enemies. Death Eaters toppled over. It was rare when someone remembered the counter curse to such a rudimentary spell and, if she wasn’t so angry, Roslyn would have complimented her friend on thinking outside of the box.

Instead rage ruled her. Her wand pointed wildly. Unforgivable Curses meant nothing to her now. In times of duress things like that could be considered forgivable. But she did not care. “Crucio!” Someone went down and writhed in pain. “Crucio!” She directed another blow towards another man and he, too crumpled and screamed in agony.

“Which son of a bitch did it?!” she demanded through clenched teeth. “Tell me who and I’ll spare the lot of you from pain!”

“Ros… you’re scaring me.” Moira’s voice was a faint whisper but, someone was creeping behind her and she shot off a spell behind her. “Stupefy!” The sound of another crumpling to the floor was nearly completely lost.

"Come now!" A particularly slimy man said as he approached her. "We should not be fighting so boldly. Roslyn, Roslyn I knew your father. The family Defoe has been quite the cherished fam-"

The redhead did not even let him finish his sentence. She rose her arm and pointed directly at his chest. She screamed out the torturing curse and he fell to the floor, writhing.
 
The man's thin lips formed a sneer as he watched the fiery redhead lose her temper. The slimy man was one of his lieutenants, yet he strangely did not care that he was being tortured on the floor. After all, he did bring it on himself. However, as the fiery redhead lost her mind, some of Silvermane's better operatives took the notion to be one step ahead, disarming Moira and with an arm around her neck and three wands pointed at her, their escape route was cut off. Just to think, if they would have left that stupid little boy, as skilled as he was, they would have at least been able to escape with their lives. What a shame.

The Death Eaters fell around her, writhing in pain, still being unable to recover. Silvermane took this oppurtunity to step out. It was quite the show and he wanted to show her that he appreciated her work. Simply smiling at her, Silvermane started to fire green bolts of another Unforgivable Curse at his fallen comrades. They were grunts anyway, when one fell there would be another three to take their place. That was what was nice about winning that last conflict, there were no shortage of cowards to follow blindly about behind the Dark Lord. Sure, Silvermane had a few favorites, but it wasn't anyone here. Silverman even took the time to meet eyes with the fiery redhead as a green bolt fired from his wand and hit the slimy man on the ground. Pointing his wand at her, he was ready to dispell whatever spell came at him. After all, his dueling skill alone allowed him to rise the ranks of the Death Eaters and he highly doubted she was the duelist to dethrone him. He knew how to block any spell. That was the key, he was a defensive duelist.

"What a nice job." The man sneered as he looked at the work they had done. What was once a full room of blathering Death Eaters, only stood the grey haired man himself, the red haired hot head, a handful of Death Eaters, and of course her squeaky, less confident friend. As they stared each other down, he tried to decide what to do with her. In truth, he killed all of his own men, she didn't quite seem to have the guts. Sure it was one thing to use an Unforgivable Curse for the first time, and sure it was one thing to use the torture curse, but in the same sense, she had made an effort not to use the Killing Curse. She probably didn't have it in her.

With skillful eyes, he noticed small things around them. First, there were the dead Death Eaters around him, then there was the attained member of her party behind her towards the door, then there was her. Yes, she had a look of pure anger and hatred around her, but there was something else. There was something about the two of them and something between them that would have made her so angry that he had fallen in battle. Friends? That was for sure. Siblings? No, she would be in a far less functioning state of mind should that have been the case. They were clearly more than just friends or co-workers. Silvermane picked up on this quickly.

"I'm so sorry for that ill placed spell." He said as he slowly walked in a circle around her, wand still pointed at her to block any spell that would come his way. "I was actually aiming for you." He said with a laugh. "I mean, such a shame to end the life of such a skilled boy. I mean, WANDLESS MAGIC?" He said with more emphasis on that last part. "Who would have thought that someone who practiced that forgotten art actually still existed? And at a such a young age too."

In truth, it was almost like Silvermane was stalling for time. What the hell was he going to do with her?
 
A loud scream cracked through the room. They had Moira! Roslyn could not stop the noise as it tore from her lips to cut through the tavern again. How she wanted to cut through the all. Although Moira was much more timid than herself, she was a brave girl who did not deserve to be put in that situation.

The girl squirmed in the arms of her captors but there was nothing she could do. A Death Eater in a shabby looking man groped at her through her robes and grinned towards Silvermane. “Can I keep this one for a nigh’ or two before we get rid of her?” The words made the brunette squeal loudly, which brought rancorous laughter from all who had a grip on her.

Roslyn felt that same flame build inside of her once more. How dare they taunt a dear friend after killing another!? Again her wand raised but she had to jump out of the way of red sparks as they flew at her. One of the witches had snuck up on her and had meant to knock her out. The redhead’s infamy meant that there was a rather large bounty on her head to any who could bring her in as a prisoner. A green wall of light took the witch out rather speedily and Roslyn looked wildly around. Who else was on their side?!

Then she saw the direction the Killing Curses were coming from. It was the bastard who had killed her Faust. Her lips curled into a vicious snarl and she fired off a disarming spell but it missed her target. He was moving too much around the room.

Finally he came up to her and she clutched her wand tightly.

“You do not talk about him that way.” She warned him in a dangerous tone. “Let my friend go. She doesn’t need to be groped at like a stuffed bear.”
 
The man let out a tiny laugh. As if she was going to be able to do anything to him. He was Andrew Silvermane, he did and said what he pleased. Still, he kept his focus and his eyes narrowed in on her. He watched her friend get groped and he just shook his head. He let out a laugh and then his eyes focused back on the girl in front of him. He wondered why she was being so upset, he was giving her friend a compliment. Sighing, he made a slow walk around the room.

"I was giving your friend a compliment." He said as he just started her down. There was a lot of tension in the room obviously, but Silvermane didn't show anything. As far as he was concerned he had the upper hand in this fight. He had a hostage. There wasn't much now for there to happen, unless a compromise or something were to arise, but even with that said, what could she possibly offer him? She didn't have anything that she couldo ffer to Silvermane. Well, there was one thing. . .

"Let your friend go?" The man said in a pompous tone. "And just why would I do that?

The muggles wimpered. They sure didn't like to be in this situation and quite honestly most felt for the girl and the redhead. In fact, in some way they hoped they won this fight. Then maybe they would be free and be able to move onto more important matters, like back to their normal and everyday lives. .

The man moved towards her friend and towards his fellow Death Eaters. He put his wand in her face and whispered some downgraded, disgusting things to her, and even made a motion to lick the side of her face. Should this fiery red head do anything, her friend would be struck down. Even then, his reflexes were far to fast. That's how one becomes a skilled duelist after all. He heard the squeal from the girl and he looked back towards her. The ball was in her court now.
 
“I don’t care what you’re saying about Fa-“ Roslyn snarled but she cut herself whenever the Death Eater Silvermane walked towards her friend.

Moira whimpered as the words were whispered to her. She shook her head nearly violently as the tongue pressed against her cheek. Tears fell down her cheeks though she was one to cry in captivity. Anyone was, especially when they were being pawed at and treated like a piece of meat. Men were disgusting creatures. The others that had a hold of Moira laughed heartily and another squeezed at her chest, making her cry out even more.

“Ros help me!” she begged.

The redhead was trembling now. She did not know what to do. Should she trade herself from Moira’s safety? Could these horrible men even be trusted to do that or would they both be taken captive? She clutched her wand tightly in her hand and her pale blue eyes darted around. There had to be something she could use to her advantage. Something out of place that she could use as a distraction. For the most part this little fight had gone very much the way of most muggle showdowns and gunfights.

Outside of the box, Roslyn, outside of the box!

How could she though with his wand pointed so menacingly in Moira’s face? Roslyn did not want to lose another friend. She had already lost Micha and Faust- her beautifully clever and brave Faust. Moira may have not been nearly as courageous as the rest of them but she was loyal and funny and compassionate.

“Let her go and I will come with you willingly,” Roslyn finally said through clenched teeth. “She’s a good girl. I, on the other hand, have wounded many of your kind and planned attacks that have depleted your resources. I am the one who’s face leers hideously from those wanted posters plastered about…”

Perhaps she could play to his vanity. If he brought in the leader of the most notorious rebel group it would elevate his standing even more. Her look was steely and her stance was stiff. Even now she did not cry; determination and gall were etched on her soft features.
 
The man let out a little laugh. His mind worked. Any information he could get out of the redhead, he could most certainly get out of the whimpering piece of trash that had been accosted by his Death Eaters. He looked towards his men and they looked back, almost as it they were trying to communicate or something. Alas, his men were too stupid and he sighed to himself as he realized that there was no mental connection. He was going to have fun with this one, it's not often that someone as fiery and as beautiful just turns herself in to someone like Silvermane.

The man was a piece of shit. He really was. He had few good qualities about him. There was no sense of compassion, no sense of decency, and furthermore, no sense of what was right and what was wrong. However, Andrew P. Silvermane was a business man. He valued things like someone's word and being a very good bargainer. When he said he would do something, kill someone, he did it. Usually within the next few days. So of course he would honor the bargain.

The man behind Moira opened his mouth, but a cold look from Silvermane shut him up. The grip on the poor brunette tightened, as the man was growing more and more upset with Silvermane. He started to mumble to himself, out of anger but when a slap to the back of his head brought him back into reality, he quickly shut his mouth. This probably wasn't good because Silvermane was shooting him a look of death.

Silvermane decided he would agree to her bargain. After all, it remained fact, whatever he could get out of the brunette, he could probably get even more information out of red head. If she was actually the leader, Silvermane could torture her, do what he wanted and get whatever information he could possibly get from the girl. He walked toward the brunette and picked up her wand from the ground.

"Eleven, maybe twelve inches. Oak. with unicorn hair." He said as he looked it up and down. "Good make, nice flexibility." He pointed the wand at Moira and made a motion like he was casting a spell of some kind. Laughing to himself, he gave it another good look and dropped the wand. The next sound that was heard was the sharp sound of the wand snapping in half underneath Silvermane's foot.

Moving back towards the redhead, wand still pointed at her he let out a smile, showing his perfect white teeth.

"I agree to your deal." He said in joy. "Your wand please." He said holding his hand out.
 
The sound of the cracking wand practically broke Moira’s heart. Her expression was shattered; her mouth hung agape and her eyes were wide and rimmed with tears. Beneath the fingers of the Death Eaters she trembled half with anger and half with despair. Roslyn could not blame her. There was something very special about the connection between a witch and her wand. They were like best friends and companions. Rage bubbled inside of the redhead for Moira.

“Let her go first.” Roslyn spat at him. “I won’t be unarmed with her still in the clutches of your goons.”

What had he expected from this all? She was not fool enough to give up something so precious. Not when it was her and Moira’s only lifeline in this whole situation. Her grip on her wand grew tighter and more desperate still. She had had that wand since she had been eleven years old. Thirteen inches, ash, with phoenix feather as the core. It was a wand for the incredibly stubborn and spirited. It was very much a reflection of what she was inside. To see it snapped for no good reason would throw her into a blinding rage.

She had not experience with that Death Eater. All she had heard was secondhand tales of his cruelty. For all she knew he would eagerly take her wand, snap it, and then slay Moira without a second thought. The other Death Eaters were become weary of the game that was being played out. They wanted to go home or return to drinking or whatever other things men such as those did in such establishments.

“Let her go and you’ll get my wand and me.”

Moira cried out. “Don’t! Get out of here! You’re more important than I am!”

Roslyn did not even dignify that with a response. Moira always had romantic ideals when it came to their small resistance group. She had always imagined Roslyn to be some great saint of sorts leading her warriors through the shaff that were the Death Eaters. As if she were some bloody Joan D'Arc. Instead she turned towards Silvermane and took a step towards the two with her arms up in surrender.

"I haven't got all day." she told him with a tone of impatience.
 
With a nod, two Death Eaters swooped around Roslyn. one snatching her wand, and the other putting a spell onto her wrists that acted as some kind of handcuff binding. With their new prisoners, and exactly on queue, the Death Eaters all turned into black smoke and flew out the window, laughing the entire way, leaving Moira behind in the bar. Alone. He was a man of his word. As they flew, a quick sleeping spell was placed on the redhead.

The room they had placed her in was dark and made of stone. It was cold and damp. With her wand seperated from its owner, it was very easy to manipulate her without much resistance. They had a pair of muggle handcuffs around her wrists, a blindfold over her eyes, and she was sitting on a wooden chair. This was Silvermane's interrogation room. Something that he used and loved to use quite often.

As she was coming around, Silvermane was elsewhere trying to appease his dark lord. Kneeling before him, Voldemort said something in his Parceltongue. Silvermane could understand it, but he couldn't speak it. As Voldemort spoke, Silverman just nodded in understanding. To sum things up, Voldemort wanted him to just get some information out of her and then he said he could do what he wanted.

"Yes, my lord." He said as he stood and walked out of the room, head still bowed. As he exited, he made his way towards the interrogation room.

Sitting on the other side of the table across from her, he uttered a few choice words, and a green mist came out of his wand and into her face. This was the awakening spell. Soon, she would come around and she would be very groggy. However, it would take her a second to come to her quick senses, so he decided he would play around with her. He did have a piece of Faust's hair after, perhaps a Polyjuice potion was in line. . .
 
This was Hell to her. Roslyn disliked the idea of being taken alive but there was no choice in the matter. Moira deserved a happy life. She deserved more than interrogation and death. Still there was resistance from the spicy redhead as they snatched her wand from her and put her in those magical cuffs. A tearful sob escaped from the pixie-like brunette and Roslyn looked towards her to mouth something but, in a flash, they had taken her away in a swarm of laughter and a bilious cloud of black smoke.

Where she ended up she did not know. Her head was spinning madly as she came to; throbbing with pain and confusion. Had they been able to knock her out or had she shamefully fainted? The latter did not seem possible but she hated herself if either one were true. She was stronger than these damned cowards who hid behind painted skulls and black hoods! As she tried to pull arms out to stretch, she hissed. Sharp pain shot from her shoulders and came down to her wrists. Cold metal bit against the skin of her wrists. What was this then? If she had been more in her senses she would have realized that they had tied her to a chair.

“Hello?” she called out into the room. Nothing answered her back except her own voice, thick with exhaustion. She had not realized that it was a wizard that had awoken or what dastardly deeds he had planned for her. “Just my luck.”

Panic started to settle in. She could not see. She could not even throw up her arms to defend herself. What sort of curses would be flung at her to torture her into giving up information? Her lips would remain sealed through all of it. Roslyn was not the type to give up the secrets of her friends and fellow freedom fighters. The prospect of torture, however, did not thrill her.
 
The man sitting at the table loved mind games. He loved to make his victims panic. Sure, it was one thing to get information out of someone through torture or some kind of truth telling serum, but that was much less fun than seeing the panic on someone's face. Hearing the fear quiver in someone's voice, or better yet, seeing their bodies shake with pure panic. He sat and watched as she processed what had been going on. This was Silvermane's sick pleasure, this was what he liked to do. Break people. Make them bend to his will, make them putty in his hands. There was only one he had not been able to break, and it was not Voldemort. It was a woman named Rose, his now deceased wife.

Smelling the cold air to himself, he pushed out from under the desk and his chair screeched against the floor. He moved towards her. He had let her friend go as he had promised, however, if she or any of them were to cross him again then they would be dealt with harsh consequences. He was a noble man. Head of the prestigious Silvermane Estate. Father of three, two were deceased now, killed in the fucking first war, and the other worked directly under him. His wife, as aforementioned was named Rose. She was disgusted with the man he had become and commited suicide, leaving an almost empty shell of the former Andrew Silvermane. He had been an auror, one to bring down the Dark Lord, but soon corruption and hate filled him after his sons had died, and this is what had become of him.

"Tell me about your little resistance group." He started with. He knew he wouldn't get anything from her with that simple question. He knew that she was going to try and spit on him or give him some useless remark along the lines of: Fuck you, or even "Burn in hell, yet these things never phased him. She was probably a dirty mudblood, who tried to fight for what was righteous in the world, what she wanted to see, what she wanted everyone to hear. She probably wanted to die a martyr for the cause, maybe have a statue erected in her honor, but Silvermane wasn't going to give her the chance. He was far too proud. Why should she benefit in the long run because of him? No, he fate was that of embarassment and failure.

The noise of heavy footsteps, dripping water, even an occasional fly buzzing here and there could be heard through the silence. He didn't expect her to talk, and he almost hoped that she didn't. A heavy inhale, and the man walked to her back, untying her blindfold and moving to sit back in his seat at the table, as to get a good look at her. She certainly was not terrible looking, yet something about her seemed oddly familiar. He had never caught her last name, though the grunts seemed to know her quite well. She had been running rampant in his parts, yet seemed to stay under the radar from his watchful gaze. Fucking grunts, want to handle things themselves. Who knows how many her little group had been able to kill?

Sitting very taut, very proper, he sighed again. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"
 
Roslyn chewed on her tongue. Did he expect her to simply answer his question? There was no chance in bloody Hell that she would give up the information he wanted her to. The men and women of that resistance group had become her family. She expected to take any information she had about them and the group to her grave. A sharp intake of breath was taken and she twisted her arms behind her. Those damned metal muggle cuffs. Magic could be, if the person had a strong enough will, broken. Many had resisted the controlling curse because of a strong will. However muggle made contraptions such as these metal bands thoroughly confounded her.

The sound of footfall encircled her and she felt his eyes upon her. Her fingers flexed and she ground her teeth. The blindfold kept out any signs of light and all she could see was darkness before her. There was nothing more at that time than to be able to at least see what was happening. Finally the footsteps stopped behind her and the cloth had been taken from her eyes. She blinked dramatically as the light came flooding across her sight and blinded her for a brief moment.

After a second the brightness faded away and the room came into sight. It was not as glamorous as she had imagined it to be. For some reason she had gotten the notion into her head that everything a high ranking Death Eater owned was opulent. Her bright blue eyes followed the path of a buzzing fly before locking on the graying man who sat before her.

“Why should that matter?” she asked coolly. At least she felt less panicked now that she had her sight though, really, she did not know if that was better or worse. Now she could see what was going to happen to her and would be defenseless. “Your type isn’t exactly the type to actually care who they are torturing for information I imagine.

However, to answer your question I am Roslyn Defoe; blood traitor and shame to the Defoe name.”
 
"All very interesting." The man said with a interested tone. The man had known many a Defoe. They were all very good Deatheaters, though he wondered if they had any relation with her. However, he was a man that never thought to big into relationships, especially with subordinates. Standing back up and moving back to her, he placed the blindfold back around her head, unsure as to why he had even taken it off of her. Now it was time for his interrogation process to begin, and he very much revelled in the fact that she was a very attractive young female.

With the blindfold back into place, he put his hand on her shoulder and Apparated her and the chair to a new location. In this location, the sun was shining bright, there were birds chirping, and there was even a waterfall in the background. Someone had told Silvermane that this is where one went when they wanted to relax, and that's exactly what he wanted her to do. Relax. That was part of his interrogation technique. Besides, he was going to torture her, but he wasn't going to be bringing her pain.

Moving back over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, he breathed in slowly and even took a moment to brush her fiery red hair out of her face. Moving back to another table that was in this little area, he picked up his wand. He Accio'd a few potion making supplies and began to mix the potion. Letting her sit and stew for about an hour or two until the redish, pink potion was finally finished. It had an odor of freshly picked strawberries, oysters, and even a hint of something as simple as saffron. All muggle ingredients, but all suspected aphrodisiacs.

Smelling the potion and deeming it was almost ready, he dropped one final touch into it, some wormwood, almost to act as a thickening agent. As he moved back towards her, his wand in hand, he muttered a curse under his breath. "Imperio." He said as his wand was trained on her. "You will drink the potion I pour down your throat." He said as he tipped her head back. Pouring all but a little bit of the pink potion down her throat, and making sure she swallowed it, he took the curse off of her and moved to sit back down in the chair behind the desk.

"What you just drank was a potion that will increase your sexual arousal to an unbearable point unless you do something about it." He said in a very flat tone. The only problem that was posed to her was, her hands were bound behind the chair. Let the fun begin.
 
To her dismay he placed the cloth back over her eyes, effectively blinding her again. A growl sounded in her throat and her hands twisted behind her in a vain attempt to free them. Of course they would not come free. Whatever spell he used to tie her to that chair had been skillfully and effectively cast; the only thing she could do was move her fingers.

The pressure on her shoulder did not help her agitation any and she had to fight the urge to turn her head and snap at his fingers. There was a pop and the strange, pinching feeling that came with Apparation. When they appeared at their destination, a warm breeze caressed her exposed skin and she felt the heat of the sun on her. A bird’s song was on the air that accompanied the trickling and crushing sound of a fast moving body of water.

A long while passed by with little sound, save for the bubbling of the cauldron he was brewing some sort of potion in and the natural noises around them. Nervousness curled in her stomach as she waited. A few times she nearly came to speaking but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting beneath her skin. Instead she took the horrible silence in stride and mused inwardly, finally allowing herself to relax somewhat. Whatever was going to come, was going to come, and she could not do anything about it.

The scent of the potion was strong by the time it had finished and she could easily catch strawberries and something oddly fishy within the aroma. Odd. Already her mouth was watering and she, for some reason, clamped her legs together tightly. At first she had been sure he was brewing some sort of truth potion but now Roslyn was not so sure.

A curse was whispered beneath his breath and there was no preparing for it. Even with her strong will she could not avoid being put beneath his control. Although she would have tilted her head back and taken the potion easily, he tilted her head back anyway and practically forced it down her throat. She swallowed every last bit of the odd tasting brew. Instantly heat spread through her and shot strait for her loins. Even before he had told her what he had done, she knew.

“You bastard!” she exclaimed once he released her. She rocked in her chair. “You disgusting, vile, prickhead!”

Slimy little…! The feeling pressed more heavily between her legs. A throbbing had started there, hot and heavy. All of her growls turned into whimpering and she rocked harder against the seat of the chair but the ropes were taught. She could not even grind herself against them and, instead, she moved so hard that she fell over. Her red hair fluttered all about her and her body hit the ground with a soft thud. Sweat formed on her forehead.

“Brew the goddamned cure!” She cried out shrilly. “This is sick! Even for a Deatheater, this is fucked up!”
 
Clearly, the girl did not know the potion was simply fulfilling her urges. The man just sat there and let her freak out. It was fucked up, but who was to say torture was meant to be humane and legal. Just ask the muggles what happened when they tried to interrogate the Muggles in the ways that were humane. It didn;t quite work did it? Just look at the situation they were in now. They were kissing the feet of the ones that had liberated the rest of the wizarding community, even if they hadn't realized it.

The red head could yell, scream, curse do what ever she needed to do in order to feel better about what was happening but that was the nature of the interrogation. She had tipped the chair over and now he would move and continue with the process. Using magic to grab the chair and have it follow him, he led it over to a stone wall in the middle of the little grotto. He knew that if he released her cuffs she would just be trying to claw his face, however, as he got there, he just placed another Imperius curse on her.

"Stay calm and don't move." He said as he unrestrained her. Pushing her over to the wall and using such things as muggle chains reinforced with magic, he chained her to the wall, moving away again, the chair disappeared and there she was, restrained in a modern day muggle way. Modern day that there was a tinge of magic laced in those cuffs, and he sat back in his own chair. Releasing her as he walked away.

Pulling out a pipe, he patted in some tobacco and waieted for long enough to start questioning her. This was his form of torture on her, and he felt that this was fitting for a fucking sniviling little cunt. He would know where the rest of her friends were and even her friend known as Moira would die. It was his job, find the stragglers and the revolters and bring them into justice. Tapping his fingers and puffing his pipe, he listened to her pleas and her anger, finding it the slightest bit arousing.

Everything was going to plan. He ws going to break her. Get her to crumble at his feet and beg the Deatheater to please her. Then, he would make her his personal pet, the one hundreth resistance group that he had crushed under his foot. Something that he deserved and something he was sure the Dark Lord would grant him. For him, the fun was just beginning. .
 
He began to drag her to an unknown place through magic. She felt the tug at the back of her chair as she was pulled along. Fear should have been her natural response. There was no saying what was going to happen to her. Those moments could have been her last but she could not think about even being terrified. All her body wanted was that sexual release.

There was a sick satisfaction that pooled in her stomach as he chained her to the wall and muttered the Imperio curse. The potion was making her crazed. The heat of his body felt wonderful. Even the brief contact he had with her as he tied her to a wall made her want more. Disgust mingled with the raging lust. How could she want him to touch her?! Rebelling against the curse was impossible, however, so she simply took the strange and horrifying torture. Her legs pressed together again and she twisted herself in her bindings.

“So do you do this to all of the women you capture?” She questioned through spittle. The anger in her tone was evident and she did not even bother to cover it. A powerful wave shook her. Pressure centralized in her clit; making it painful. She cried out. “Sick, disgusting, asshole!”

Again she cried out as the throbbing became worse. Tears sprung to her eyes. This was the worse pain that she had ever gone through. Fiery and passionate, her lusts had never gone unfulfilled. Her fingers twitched. Impulsively they wanted to go between her thighs to stroke the pain into delicious pleasure. Wetness pooled in her panties and soaked them through. If she were naked, droplets would have been rolling down her thighs.

“Make it stop! Make it stop!” she finally pleaded. The Crucio curse was welcomed at that point.
 
Shaking his head slowly, though he knew she couldn't even see him, he spoke. "Only to the special ones." He said with a slight tinge in his voice. The pipe continued to smoke and every once in awhile he would toke and poke at it with a wooden match, keeping the nicely lit flame inside the bowl glowing. The air dispersed into the wind and Silvermane smiled as he looked over the side of what appeared to be a little carved out grotto on the side of a mountain. They were a few thousand feet up, but with the use of magic and muggle slaves, Silvermane had turned this area into his own little hideout of sorts.

The silver haired man brushed his locks aside. He was a simple man really, patient, caring when it came to his work, careful, and able to withstand many enemies. He had the ability to process things really quick and come up with a concise, quick, and effective plan to getting the things that he wanted. She was starting to beg and her will was starting to falter, however, he didn't warrant her pleas with even a noise. No response, no nothing. Perhaps something would come out of her if she thought she was alone.

There was a silence that hung in the room. Something that could make even the strongest muggle criminal shoved into solitary confinement to break. The waterfall sounded dim in the area where the new wall that she was confined to was located. Silvermane's long and slender fingers tapped against his table. On his fingers, a ring that formerly belonged to Lucious Malfoy, one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes (which he got from disposing of Miss Bellatrix Lestrange,) and finally a ring which bore the crest of the Silvermane family, proud and majestic.

With dim eyes, he looked over her. Her form was starting to sag and weaken. There was a noticable spot forming on her pants and her voice was beginning to fade, not much but just a little. These were the types of things he was noticing. He let her beg and plead him for a few minutes longer. All he wanted to know right now was information. He had checked to see if she had any wires on her, any communication to the outside world, and for all he knew, she was clean. However, should he get the information he needed, he would take care of them himself.

Finally, after about an hour or two, which for her must have seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "Where are your friends and where is the location of the headquarters." His tone was very calm. He knew she must be close.
 
The silence was worse for her. If he had made a sound, had argued with her even then she would have been able rage out in his direction. Then she would have been able to ignore, to a slight extent, the painful pulse that was going through her body. The seconds crawled by painfully slow. Blood sounded louder and louder inside of her ears until the sound of the waterfall and birds. Her breathing caught in her chest as she yelled, begged, and demanded that he let her free.

It did not take long for her vigor to turn into sobs of frustration and of desperate need. This was more sadistic than the things she had been told. Death Eaters had been known for their abject and wanton cruelty. Never had she imagined that one would stoop to using sexual arousal to twist information from their captives.

The amount of time that had passed was unknowable to her. It had to still be early within the day. The sun was still warm and the breeze only held a slight coolness. Her puss had soaked through her pants at that point and a large wet spot was completely visible. She could feel the wet material of her pants pressed against legs.

What she wanted to do was meet his calm tone and horrible question with fire. Her friends were the only thing that she had. Her family had disowned her. Even though she could not see him, she lifted her head in his direction. A tongue came out to lick at her full, yet dry lips.

“I… I…” Her voice sounded truly pathetic. “I can’t. They’re all I’ve got, those people. I promised to protect them!”

Truly she sounded miserable.
 
How cute. She didn't want to rat her friends out because they were her "family." Silvermane, of course, was not going to let that answer fly. She could just stay in a state of frustration and need for the rest of time as far as he was concerned. Besides, what the hell was she going to do, she was as helpless as a fucking muggle child. Silvermane never bought on to the idea that the muggles were inferiors to be perfectly frank, he merely joined the cause because. Well, his reasons were his own.

Moving slowly to her, he knelt down next to her and with his long, slender, and pale fingers touched her inner right leg, moving it in a sensual motion, taking great care to get close but not too close to her throbbing area. His hand was wet with her juices and now, with his touch, he was just tantalizing her. Teasing her, making her in that much more frustration. He had truthfully never used the potion for this long, so he had to commend the girl that she was doing a fine job of resisting, but it was only going to get worse.

The once fiery redhead was miserable now. Pathetic even. All becaue she wouldn't disclose the location of her friends. She was once so proud, yet once she had met him for the first time, all things had changed it seemed. The man almost looked at her with pity. Almost. However, he needed the information and he couldn't let her move on without it. "I am afraid I need that information." He said with a sigh as his hand moved ever so close.

It wasn't as though he liked this. Well, he did, but that was beside the point. He wanted that information so he could squash another rebellion. Granted, this was a new type of interrogation he was working with, and the potion could be much more powerful. If need be, he would take things down that route. If it were up to him, this little group would be squashed that evening, and Roslyn would help him do so. It was not a hard thing to do and they didn't stand much of a chance. Even if they went into hiding, Silvermane would find them.
 
Roslyn bit down on her lip. Sweat rolled down her face and she strained against the chains again. Of course this did not do anything to help her. Instead the metal bit into her wrist and ankles, causing temporary pain. A pain that did not match the agony that beat itself in hungry thumps and rumbles, not by a long shot, and she growled at him.

The touch against her thigh made things a thousand times worse. Her eyes clenched tightly together and she trembled from desperation. The fire licked desperately inside of her and it felt as if she was burning from the inside out.

“Damn you!” she whined. She wanted the words to be sharp but with that potion pumping through her veins, all she could manage was a rather pitiful sound. “There are different ways to get information! Why this way? What is the matter with you!?”

Her lips twisted. Damn him? Damn her for being so weak minded! The Imperius curse could easily be brushed off by someone with a will such as Roslyn’s (when she wasn’t being thoroughly terrorized), the Cruciatus Curse was just as easily dealt with, even the Killing Curse would be welcomed with open arms at this point, but this was too foul to be ignored. Why, she was shocked that he didn’t have a supply of Veritaserum for such purposes. Then again he probably took pleasure in causing as much despair and pain.

“Just a little rub,” she pleaded suddenly. “It won’t take much now. Just a touch, I am sure.”
 
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