.
Annabel clutched the leather arm rest and dug in her feet. The violent inrush of wind from the open window whipped her hair across her face and made her eyes water. She raised her voice over the noise of beeping, cursing, and Lord Voldemort’s joyous cackle.
–I’m going to be sick!â€
–I don’t care!†Voldemort called back. –I’m giving the car back to its owner!â€
Annabel gritted her teeth as her father darted in and out of his lane with merry disregard for traffic laws, societal conventions and basic human decency. Brakes screeched, horns blared, and maddened drivers choked on their own sputtered imprecations.
–Check this out, Annabel,†said Voldemort cheerfully. –My left blinker’s on! It’s been on for the past eighteen miles! And I haven’t turned left once!â€
He deftly cut off a Corvette that was struggling to merge.
–I love this! I love driving! Who knew Muggles could come up with something this good?â€
–Hur hur,†said Crabbe, who had his hands in the air and an expression of childlike glee.
–Hur hur,†said Goyle, who was staring expressionlessly at the back of Voldemort’s headrest.
–You’re sick,†said Annabel weakly.
Encouraged, Voldemort drove faster.
A siren swelled behind them. –Now you’re going to go to jail,†said Annabel with satisfaction. –You’re behaving like a lunatic and you’re endangering a minor. You’re going to be locked up for ten years, minimum. I’ll come visit you on Sundays if you buy me a Firebolt.â€
–I’m sorry, were you speaking?†said Voldemort, swerving across four lanes. Without pausing, he drove through a fence and off the highway. They bumped gently to a halt in the middle of a grassy meadow.
Voldemort turned off the car. Everything was suddenly very quiet. They were close enough to the highway for Annabel to see the disaster they had left behind, cars pointed in all directions and two policemen struggling to restore order, but the noise of the road was far away.
–Welcome,†said Voldemort, –to my humble abode.â€
As they got out, an enormous, decrepit mansion loomed suddenly over them. A flag bearing the Dark Mark and the words, –Welcome to Death Eater Headquarters†streamed overhead. Affixed to the peeling door were a bunch of yellow balloons and a sign that said, –Welcome, Annabel!â€
–Home sweet home,†said Voldemort happily.
The door opened with a maximum amount of creak to reveal a dusty entrance hall. –Your room is the first door up there,†said Voldemort, pointing up the stairs. –Dinner will be in one hour. You’ll meet the whole gang. It’ll be great!â€
********************************************************************************************************
Dinner was awkward.
It was in the dining room, in Annabel’s honor. The Dark Lord was enthroned at one end of the dusty mahogany table, and Annabel sat uncomfortably at the other. The Death Eaters lined the sides, faces freshly scrubbed, trying not to pick their teeth or belch.
Not even the streamers Crabbe had hung could lighten the atmosphere.
–For what we are about the receive,†Lord Voldemort intoned, –may we be truly grateful.â€
–Amen,†chorused the Death Eaters.
–And may the day when Muggles no longer walk the earth come soon.â€
The Death Eaters thrust their fists in the air and fell to.
–So you’re in Hogwarts,†Crabbe said to Annabel. –What year are you in?â€
–Sixth,†she answered, looking at him curiously. He was a huge man, shiny and balding, and he seemed to be actually interested in her.
–Sixth!†said Crabbe, delighted. –So you must know my son, Vincent. He’s in Slytherin.â€
–Yeah, I know him,†said Annabel casually, not feeling the need to add that she had in fact hexed him at the end of the term, sending him home with teeth where his eyebrows should be and hair growing out of his gums.
–Hey,†said Crabbe excitedly, –Gorm and Ted have got kids that age, too! Gorm!†he hollered down the table. –Annie here knows Greg!â€
Goyle, a few seats down, seemed to try mightily to process this. He gave up after his eyes crossed, and, after staring at his upraised spoon of pudding for ten seconds, managed to remember that it was supposed to go in his mouth.
–Yeah, and Draco’s that age too!†continued Crabbe, who had found his topic and was sticking with it. –Luscious! Annie knows your boy!â€
The plae blond man beside Goyle continued calmly to spoon mashed potatoes into his mouth.
–Luscious! Luscious!â€
The man on Malfoy’s other side, broad-shouldered and menacing, elbowed him. –Crabbe’s wanting you,†he grunted.
–That is not my name,†Malfoy said evenly, and reached for the pumpkin juice without looking up.
–It’s not?†said Crabbe, forehead creasing.
A low laugh came from Annabel’s right. She turned and saw, to her shock, the greasy visage of her Potions Professor. –Isn’t he luscious though?†Snape said sardonically. –All that luscious golden hair.â€
–What are you doing here?†gasped Annabel.
–I work here,†Snape said smoothly. –Surprised?â€
–I always knew you were evil,†she said. –I just didn’t know it was official. And what are you going to do now that I know? You think that just because I’m Voldemort’s daughter I won’t tell Dumbledore and the Daily Prophet?â€
–We’ll work something out,†Snape said vaguely. –Maybe I’ll modify your memory, maybe I’ll tie your tongue...or maybe it’s time for me to come out into the open. I’m getting old for this dodgy stuff. And teaching is a real pain.â€
–So is being a student,†said Annabel feelingly.
–It’s pretending to like Potter that really takes it out of me,†Snape continued, ignoring her, as was his custom with students.
–But let me say, sir, that you do a superb job,†said Annabel, in case he came back to Hogwarts after all and marked her latest essay. Snape seemed to pick up on this. He snapped out his self-pitying reverie and glared at her.
–Dealing with Potter is job satisfaction itself compared to dealing with trolls like you,†he said irritably. –Considering the level of intelligence displayed by your poisons essay, I’m amazed you managed to figure out with side of the quill does the writing.â€
Annabel winced. Troll. She’d hoped at least for a Dreadful.
Nice one, Sev, thought Snape. He wondered if he could get away with using that line on another student, maybe write it in bright red on someone’s test -- maybe a Hufflepuff, Annabel probably didn’t talk to them much...
–I’m sorry, what is this?†said a squat man near the head of the table, regarding a serving dish with suspicion.
His neighbor elbowed him viciously, but it was too late.
–You have a problem with your food, Amycus?†said Lord Voldemort with deceptive calm.
–Not at all, Your Lordship,†Amycus said hurriedly. –I was just--â€
–You were just--what? Stuffing your face with red meat? Or, as I like to call it, heart attack on a plate?â€
–No, Your Lordship, I’ve just never--â€
–Never seen a whole grain before? It’s quinoa, Carrow. The gold of the Incas. It has nine amino acids, Carrow. All nine. You know how many amino acids Nagini would get if she ate you?â€
Amycus cast a nervous glance behind his back, where Nagini was twined around a pillar. –No, Your Lordship.â€
–Maybe two. That’s because you’re a sorry sack of gelatin with no nutritional value.â€
Amycus looked extremely heartened by this.
–But I’m going to change that. I’m going to make all of you into real men and women, something Nagini would take pride in eating, something that would bring a redness to her eyes and a shine to her scales. And that’s why the quinoa is on the table.â€
As one, the Death Eaters drew away from the fatal bowl.
–Well, Carrow?â€
Amycus looked sick. He spooned some quinoa onto his plate and pushed it around with his fork.
Voldemort drew his wand.
Closing his eyes, Amycus brought the fork to his mouth and swallowed hard.
–That’s better,†said Voldmort. He did not lower his wand. –Now I want to see everyone have some.â€
The bowl was reluctantly passed from hand to hand. One by one, the Death Eaters ate their quinoa, some filtering it through a mouthful of Firewhiskey to mask the taste.
Annabel politely passed it on when it came to her. –I don’t have to have any,†she explained to Voldemort. –I’m not a Death Eater.â€
–It goes double for you. You’re too skinny.â€
–That’s okay, thanks. I’ll have an extra dessert instead.â€
–Eat your quinoa!â€
–I’d rather have Nagini eat me.â€
Nagini looked up hopefully. The Death Eaters held their breaths.
Voldemort stuck out his jaw. –That’s fifty push-ups for you, Annabel. I’ll see you at dawn.â€
Annabel shrugged.
–And no dessert for you!â€
Heiress of Evil by voldiexx
Chapter Notes: Family time with the Death Eaters.