Chapter Two
Red eyes met blue. The Dark Lord and his daughter stood for a moment, eyeing each other.
Voldemort broke the fraught silence. "Have you got any luggage?"
Annabel gestured behind her, where two large trunks were stacked. "As you see."
Voldemort snapped his fingers. Two huge Death Eaters stepped out from behind him, cloaked and hooded. Each moved to a trunk and hoisted it effortlessly.
Annabel looked at the shadowed face nearest her and smiled awkwardly. "Thanks," she said. There was no response from under the black hood.
"Social graces will get you nowhere with Crabbe, I'm afraid," said Voldemort. "Dog biscuits, on the other hand, will get you everywhere – here, boy!" He fished in his pocket and tossed each man a biscuit. Crabbe caught it in his mouth and smiled proudly.
"Thanks, Master," he said.
"Fine boys, fine boys," said Voldemort briskly, leading the way to the exit. "A bit thick up on top, but even thicker in the biceps, and that's what really matters. Spent their time working on their pectorals instead of their times tables, and who can blame them? Goyle can crack a walnut with his thighs, can you believe it?"
"Can you?" asked Annabel, looking meaningfully at Voldemort's scrawny arms.
Voldemort looked shy. "Actually, I've been taking a real interest in that kind of thing since I got my body back," he admitted. "Having a body is so amazing, it kind of makes you want to take care of it, you know? I only eat whole wheat these days, lots of yogurt, that sort of thing. And I installed a really nice gym at Death Eater Headquarters, and I did fifteen situps last week."
"Wow."
"Yeah, it felt pretty good. Healthy body, healthy mind, ekcetra. And I got this tattoo!" He turned and pulled down the collar of his robes. On the back of his neck, in blood-red Hebrew characters, was the word "Shalom."
"Do you like it?" he asked casually. "The guy at the shop said it means 'Death to Muggles.'"
Annabel sighed. "Really nice, Dad."
Voldemort beamed as they neared the platform wall. His attention was drawn to a commotion nearby. The Dursleys were jumping up and down, yelling and pointing, "HE'S OVER HERE!" Harry was sitting on his trunk with his eyes closed, massaging his temples.
"Sorry!" called Voldemort, grinning. "Can't do anything! I promised Dumbledore!"
Harrry looked up, scowling. Annabel hesitated a moment, and blew him a kiss. After a startled instant, Harry grinned and waved back.
"Sayonara, Muggles!" Voldemort shouted, and breezed out. Annabel sighed and followed. He hadn't even seen.
"That means goodbye," Voldemort confided on the other side of the wall. "It's Japanese. I learned quite a few languages when I was wandering around without my body. German, Arabic, French, Italian – I spent some time in Italy, I should go back now that I can eat at all those little cafes. And Albania – you should hear some of the curses I picked up in Albania! But you won't," he added sharply. "I promised your mother."
Annabel smirked. She hadn't been privileged to hear the two of them conduct their negotiations, but judging by the way her mother's behind had jumped around as it stuck out of the fire, she had spoken her mind with vim and vigor. Dahlia Curry had an impressive temper for a Hufflepuff. Or even not for a Hufflepuff.
"Mum says you were very reasonable about the arrangements," she offered.
"Reasonable," Voldemort muttered, heading down an alleyway. "Your mother doesn't know the meaning of the word."
Annabel looked curiously around. "Where are we going?" she asked. "And how are we getting there?" she asked. "I don't fly—"
"I know, you don't fly, you don't Floo, you don't Apparate. I stole you a Porsche, okay? It's the smoothest ride there is, your stomach should be fine."
"You stole a car?"
"What did you expect me to do, march into a dealer and pay for one?"
"Yes! You've got plenty of money."
"Yes, but Muggle dealers don't accept Galleons! And the exchange rate at Gringotts is horrendous, it's criminal! And finally, I'm a criminal! This is how I get cars! I take them!"
Annabel folded her arms. "I'm not getting in."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not getting in a stolen car!"
Voldemort sighed. "Crabbe? Goyle?"
The two huge men approached, looking sheepish. Annabel clenched her teeth.
"I'll be sick!" she said.
Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks. Voldemort's jaw dropped.
"You'll what?"
"I'll be sick in your Porsche!" she announced with relish.
"In my Porsche?" Voldemort whispered.
"Yes! All over the leather bucket seats!"
"You wouldn't."
She met his eyes. "Watch me."
His gaze dropped after a minute. He turned away. "Fine."
"Fine what?"
"Fine, I'll return it!"
"As soon as we get back?"
"Immediately."
"With a note of apology?"
He rounded on her. "Don't push it!"
"Okay, okay."
He kicked a tire moodily as they got in. Annabel glared.
Heiress of Evil by voldiexx
Chapter Notes: The shortest path from Platform Nine-and-three-quarters to Death Eater Headquarters is twisted and crooked if you're a Dark Lord...