The Locket

Breathe out
So I can breathe you in
Hold you in

-Foo Fighters'Everlong'-

Chapter Seven

The hands were warm and circled her back gently. The combination of pressure and warmth felt wonderful and she wondered if she was dead. Then the pain hit her. The muscles down her back spasmed uncontrollably, bunching into tight cords that would not relax. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to silently ride the wave of ensuing agony.

"Flick?"

The familiarity of his voice made the physical ache more bearable, though it caused an emotional one that brought tears to her eyes. "Vincent?" she said, her voice hoarse from a throat that was ragged and raw from the previous events. "Not quite the reunion I hoped for."

"Mother of God, Flick," he said, and she felt a hand stroke her hair. "I'm so sorry." His face was pale and eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, or tears or perhaps both.

She didn't reply, didn't acknowledge his comment. Acknowledgement of his sorrow preceded accepting what was done to her, and she knew she couldn't bear it. She forced a smile to her lips, though to Vincent it resembled more of a twisted grimace. "So what does a girl need to do to get a sip of water?"

He shut his eyes and wordlessly made his was to the cracked old pitcher in the corner of the room. He was somewhat relieved at her attempts at humor, but he knew that this was in part due to something other than his regard for her.

In the brothel where he grew up, there were many other children like himself, purchased to please the varied sexual needs of the wizarding elite, or whoever could afford it. Some were poor wizarding children, orphaned or abandoned by their parents. A small few, like himself, were muggles, discovered by chance in labor camps. All were chosen for their initial physical beauty; their enticing air of innocence. While the majority of children were young girls, money was made by catering to all sorts of tastes, and young boys were not uncommon.

When Vincent had been brought to Master Lombard's place, there had been another boy with him, a grinning scamp of a pickpocket named Will. His cheeriness and quick wit instantly attracted Vincent, and they became fast friends. For a young child so schooled in the arts of thievery, Will was completely innocent in the matters of desire when he was taken to his first client. Needless to say, the child who returned became a shell of the impish boy he once was.

Afterwards, Vincent found himself avoiding Will, ducking into corridors, hiding behind shelves. Merely standing next to him, forcing hollow conversation, looking into his companion's dull, shuttered eyes made Vincent want to scream, made his insides squirm. He knew that Felicity could very well end up going down the same path.

She should emerge unscathed for herself, he thought, hating himself for his selfishness. Not because I would find myself uncomfortable around her otherwise.

Felicity managed to screw up a small smile at the sight of water and even that felt painful. "I'm alive, right? God, I wish it still didn't hurt so much." She brought a tentative finger to her lip and peeled of a piece of amber-colored crust. "I should probably be grateful for the lack of mirrors in this room, eh?"

There was something in her eyes, an expression so helpless and full of anguish that he had to look away. He realized suddenly the amount of strength she was calling upon to keep her voice steady, her eyes tear-free. He met her eyes and whispered her nickname.

She knew he could see through her forced chattering farce, but carried on as though she did not notice. "Well, I'd better clean up for Mistress Malfoy. I would enjoy her face if she saw me like this, though."

He closed his eyes but turned his face towards her. "Flick."

"I might get in more trouble though." She peeled off another piece of crust. "Where the hell did this come from, anyway?"

"Felicity, stop it."

Her given name stopped her. She looked away, at the ground, the walls, the ceiling. Her vision started to blur as hot tears started to flow freely down her face. "No," she snarled. "I will not, I will not."

"Pretending it never happened won't make it go away."

"I'm not going to cry," she said, despite the tears tracing furrows in the dirt on her face. "Fuck you, Vincent. I never cry."

He did not reply but moved closer and wiped her face with the edge of his tunic. The simple gesture made her start to cry in earnest. "God I want that bastard to die."

Vincent moved her head into the space between his neck and shoulder and allowed her tears to soak his tunic.

~~~

Ginny lay on her side, her head nestled against Neville's chest as they relaxed on his worn-out, old sofa. She knew he would normally be busy with his plants, and that he was taking his time off for her. It was nice to have someone take care of her. She never thought she would miss being looked after, not after being the baby in a family as large as the Weasleys.

Neville and I, she thought. I wonder if he ever had feelings for me while we were at Hogwarts. She searched her memories for a special moment, something out of the ordinary. Sure, he had asked her to the Yule Ball, but it had not stirred any romantic feelings on her part and the whole evening had been platonic. No, she thought. Probably not.

She smiled, and was surprised to see him watching her when she turned her face towards his.

"Hey you," he said.

"Hey you," she repeated. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"I never thought a kiss would get anyone so tired," he said with a grin.

"Normally," she replied, "it wouldn't. Probably just a sign that I'm old."

He laughed outright at that, and she liked feeling the vibrations in his chest against her face. "If you're old," he said between chortles, "then I'm at death's door."

She waited for his mirth to lessen before sitting up. "Listen Neville..." she hesitated for a second. "So my idea...you never really answered the question."

Neville was mildly disappointed that she remembered the purpose of her visit. He had been luxuriating in the feeling of her body next to his, and wanting more than just that. Expelling a loud sigh, he propped himself up on his elbows and shifted to a sitting position. "Okay," he said. "I'll ask, you answer. We'll see if this will work."

"Fine," she replied. "Question and answer. My specialty." The last statement was said with a hint of a reminiscent smile, which was echoed on Neville's features as well.

While Ginny was between her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, she had taken a summer position at The Quibbler, much to her parents' bafflement. But Ginny had gone with a specific intent, and neither Luna nor her father was prepared for the full effect of a Weasley on a mission. The oddball articles that characterized the newspaper were compiled into the 'Special Interests' section of the new weekly magazine that replaced it. The transformation had been incredible. While his choice of material for publication was questionable, Luna's father was an incredible complier of information. His office was a veritable gold mine of potential articles, waiting to be published. Even Neville himself had been called upon to read through some of the manuscripts there and write a few articles on little-known uses for common magical herbs.

The true genius behind the new Quibbler, however, lay much deeper than its new glossy cover, or smart, witty articles. It was an effective communication means for members of the Order of the Phoenix. The idea was Ginny's, though she had called upon Hermione for muggle methods of encoding messages into a harmless looking article. Their downfall, Ginny had said, referring to the Death Eaters, is their lack of respect for anything not magic. This will be right under their noses, and they will never even know.

She had been proven right. Under a very special section called 'Q&A with the Editor' some of the most vital messages in the Order's history had been encoded. It was an effective way for many Order members to maintain their respective covers and stay in touch with the proceedings of the group its other members.

"Right," Neville said, the trace of a smile still lingering. "Who is your customer?"

"Rich purebloods. Businesses. Anyone who can afford it, really."

"Price point?"

She crinkled her nose in a way he found rather endearing. "Negotiable."

He shook his head, but continued. "And how are you going to do this? Knock on doors?"

"Well, actually yes." She sounded somewhat put-out.

Neville placed a hand over his face and sighed. "I think the idea is a good one," he finally said, "but actually doing it would be...difficult." She opened her mouth to speak but he waved a hand for silence. "What I do know is this: The girl who was responsible for turning the Quibbler into a respected magazine, can pretty much do anything in my book."

"You're not just saying that?" she said, looking skeptical.

"No. I swear. You can use legillimency if you want."

She laughed and pointed wryly to the meter on her wand. "And what, pay for it for the next ten years? Nice save, Longbottom."

~~~

Felicity maneuvered her way around the tables, the serving amphora of wine held carefully under her arm. A picture of calm, efficient service on the surface, the effort at maintaining the façade was almost more than she could bear. Whatever injuries she had sustained, indeed she could barely remember the entire incident, had lessened to a dull, throbbing ache over her entire body. More than anything, she longed to curl up in her pallet and never wake up. Keeping her head down, she stepped quickly into the hallway connecting the massive temple room to the kitchens.

The temple greatroom was incredibly beautiful, Felicity had heard that it was built by men without the use of magic. Looking up at the ornate carvings and the beautiful symmetry, she felt a small fraction of her own bitterness subside. If regular men could do this, she thought, then maybe you don't always need magic to do magical things.

Sabina was there, along with her peers Felicity had met on the first day. And though she did not want to admit it, Felicity could not help but notice how lovely her mistress looked in the raiment her father had gifted her. But Sabina did not look pleased. She kept glancing over to the table where her father sat, her eyes rather downcast. She's rich and pretty, Felicity chided herself. And she's partially to blame for what happened to you. Don't feel sorry for her.

After her incident with MacNair, Felicity had not been with Sabina alone, so there was no time to discuss anything at all. But Felicity had not missed Sabina's questioning eyes on her while helping her dress for dinner. It did not matter; Sabina would never know the truth anyway. Shrugging her shoulders, Felicity resumed her quick pace back to the kitchens.

The moment of passage from the hallway to the kitchen was marked by utter pandemonium. Felicity was certain that the kitchen had been bewitched, for there was no way such a ruckus could not be resonating to where the Dark Knights and their entourages sat. Slaves ran about, some shouting orders at the top of their lungs, all looking supremely nervous. Felicity spotted Selene at the other end of the kitchen decanting bottles of a ridiculously old Burgundy as calmly as though she was sitting in a garden by herself.

Setting the amphora down and fighting her way through a veritable gauntlet of elbows and serving platters, Felicity emerged at the other end.

Selene opened her mouth as if to say something, but shut it abruptly. Finally she spoke. "You're all right, then?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Felicity wiped a hand down her face, clearing the sweat that was starting to build in the heat of the room. "I just want to sit down." She glanced at the throng of people. "Alone. Strange how it seems like a luxury."

Selene nodded. "I thought you might say that." She inclined her head toward a battered looking tray holding a bowl containing an indistinguishable mass of stew and a old hunk of bread. "We're to deliver it."

Felicity eyed the tray critically. "That doesn't look like it's going to anyone outside. Are there pets here?" She scratched her head. "What animal would eat that, anyway?"

"Depends on your definition of animal," Selene replied. "To them," her eyes flashed momentarily, "that would be a certain muggle."

Felicity was thrown off by the sudden charge of emotion in her companion's eyes, so much so that for a moment she completely forgot her own troubles. In the two day span the girls had been acquainted, Felicity was certain that Selene was the most unflappable person she had ever met. It was strange then, to see her display an emotion as powerful as hatred. "What muggle?" she asked after collecting herself.

Selene raised an eyebrow, and the simple motion brought a jolt to Felicity's memory. "The doctor," she remembered. "The muggle doctor."

"He's here you know."

"Yes." Bits of the overheard conversation floated through her memory. "In the goddess room."

Selene smiled. "Those silly Westerners."

"Am I to go alone?" Though she had stated her overwhelming desire to be alone, Felicity realized suddenly that her assertion was not completely true. Alone in a strange place in a different country was the last thing she truly wanted.

The quiver of vulnerability in her voice did not go unnoticed, but Selene kept her face impassive. Her short lifetime had given her too much experience with victims of the upper class notion of discipline, and she knew sympathy was not what Felicity needed at this point. "No, I will go with you." She flashed a quick grin. "You'd get lost, anyway."

A few moments later they were away from the din of the kitchens, and welcomed into the cool, jasmine-scented embrace of the temple hallways. Selene held a small orb in her hand, which remained alight only while they traversed the proper path. This left Felicity to carry the tray, which was heavier than she had thought.

"You know," she said, shifting the tray to her hip. "Vincent told me that you brought something...I want to thank you."

Selene nodded but did not turn. "MacNair has a reputation. He used to be an executioner before the Dark Lord came to power."

Felicity shuddered at his name, and quelled the ebbing tide of nausea and tears she could feel rising to the surface. Noting her companion's failure to reply, Selene turned, and her glazed expression turned sharp for a moment, as sympathy and understanding came to focus in them.

"You've never been punished before, have you?" she finally said.

Felicity shook her head.

Selene's lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke. "You have no idea how lucky you are." Felicity's expression changed to one of anger, but Selene cut her off before she could speak. "Lucky," she repeated firmly.

"You don't know what he did to me," Felicity hissed through her teeth. "How dare you..."

"What was done to you has been happening to slaves much younger than you for their entire lives. After this, you will go back to your Master and continued to be spared from a life that others are forced to lead." Selene turned back to her glowing stone and continued along the path to deliver the tray.

Felicity stood for a moment, anger causing her limbs to shake, sloshing some of the stew from its bowl onto the tray. As much as she hated Selene at this moment, she did understand that her words were true. With a pang, she remembered the marks on Selene's arms and felt rather ashamed at her own selfishness.

"Wait," she said, spilling more stew as she trotted to catch up. "I'm not sorry, but what you said had some truth to it."

Selene quirked the corner of her mouth upwards. "I know," she said. "Someone once said the same thing to me." She stopped finally outside a large wooden door.

"Who?"

Her fist poised in the air, Selene turned her head. "My mother," she said softly, before knocking on the door.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Meucci Warlock!

So methinks that Selene's parentage would be rather obvious. I even made their names similar-themed for that reason, and let's not go into the similar loopiness. Upcoming chapters will shed a bit more light on the Selene-mother relationship which was not always a good one. Next chap, however, will introduce a new character, an OCW quite close to the Dark Lord. You've glimpsed her in an earlier chapter.

Thanks for reading! A review would be most appreciated! :P