Chapter 34: ──thirty one

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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OLIVIA CAN NO LONGER TELL how many hours it had been or maybe it's been days, but eventually she had been thrown into a cell, one that's as dirty as it is dark. The only source of light in the cell had been the small window completely out of her reach, but the sun had set hours ago and she sat in dark silence.

Her hands don't leave her swollen belly, feeling the kicks of her little ones as her tears come and go.

She refuses to think about James or Lucas. James, waiting for her in her room, probably worried out of his mind. And little Lucas who had admittedly become dependent on Olivia to always be there to guide him. Instead, she doesn't think at all. She doesn't think of the dirt in her clothes or the heavy chains wrapped around her wrists and legs. She just keeps her eyes closed, head leaned on the dirty wall as she feels her babies' kicks.

And she imagines them for the first time. She imagines what they'll look like - will they have dark messy hair or will they inherit her chestnut ones? Will they have bright hazel eyes or her smoky grey ones?

Will she have two little boys running around or two princesses she's certain James will spoil rotten? Or maybe she'd have a girl and a boy, like her and Maxwell, chasing each other and protecting each other.

Olivia smiles lightly as she feels another kick. It had been hours since the last one she was starting to get lonely - or maybe only minutes, Olivia really isn't sure. Everything feels longer here.

Eventually, they dump a beaten Regulus in the cell beside hers and they can see each other through the bars but are unable to approach each other due to their chains.

They talk a little bit, making sure that Samuel had not been taken alongside them, but Regulus' voice and hoarse from all the screaming and he's tired and so after a few words, he's already lost consciousness.

Olivia would have worried if he's still alive, but she can see enough through the dark to know that his silhouette on the floor still rises and falls.

And so she's left with her babies again, which really isn't a bad thing, and she continues envisioning them, painting little faces in her mind of a girl and a boy with a whirlwind of her chestnut her with bright hazel eyes, ones that's brighter than the stars in the sky, and chubby cheeks and plump lips.

She goes as far as trying to imagine their laugh, but all she can hear is James' loud, carefree ones and so she immediately stops that and goes back to their physical features.

Euphemia, she decides.

If she gets a girl, she'd be named Euphemia, after the woman who had shown Olivia what a mother's love should be.

She knows she should be deciding it with James but she doubted he'd have any problem with her naming their daughter after his mother.

Eventually, her eyelids began to feel heavy and she fell into a deep slumber with little smiling faces stamped on her mind.

But her sleep doesn't last long. Feeling as if it's only been minutes since her eyes shut, the bright sunlight and the movement outside her cell had woken her up.

She looks over at Regulus to see he's still asleep and she can't help but release a sigh of relief that though beaten, his body remains rising and falling every few seconds.

"Get up," someone grunted and Olivia looked up with bleary eyes to see Gregory Goyle's round face, a sneer permanently etched on his face. "The dark lord's demanding your presence."

A part of her wants to retort back at him. Does he really have to talk like that? Does he know how stupid he sounds? But she bites her tongue, knowing every decision has consequences and Olivia is not only deciding for herself.

So Olivia pulled herself up, even though her body aches after being in the same position for hours, and begrudgingly follows after him.

As she passes the pristine white walls, Olivia realizes she's at Malfoy Manor. She's been at the place due to social gatherings enough times to recognize the stench of dark magic lingering in the air.

After what felt like a maze of hallways, they entered a large room that seems to have been converted into a throne room, dark curtains making sure no light comes in apart from the ones provided by the lamps on the floor and Olivia almost wanted to laugh at how cliche it all is. It looked like every stereotypical villain lair in those muggle shows Lucas loved watching over the christmas break and Voldemort himself acts like every other stereotypical villain.

"Ah," the villain breaths out as Olivia steps up in front of him, heavy chains dragging behind her. "Daughter. I hope you enjoyed your room."

"It's practically heaven," she bites back and instantly scolds herself. Maybe agitating an evil wizard isn't the best thing to do.

But Voldemort only smirks, sinister and sadistic. "Your brother had it too. That fire that's simply impossible to extinguish."

Olivia bites her tongue so hard at the mention of her brother, it draws blood.

"In fact, I was in awe of it," Voldemort, her father, admits. "He was very good. He managed to trick me and not many are able to do that and I presume that only proves him to be my son. Cunning and deceiving, like a true slytherin."

"Is that why you killed him?" She asked, unable to help herself as she glares at him through the fallen hair on her face.

"Oh no, child," he says with that tone in his voice, as if he finds Olivia amusing and she can't help but feel small and irrelevant standing in front of him. "I had no hand in your brother's death. That was all him."

"Because you were going to kill him," she says in anger. "He did it before you could."

"Ah, there's that fire again," he mused and Olivia wanted to throw a bloody chair at him. "But you're right I suppose. I was going to kill him."

Olivia silently seeth as she glared at him, grey eyes - ones that used to belong to him a lifetime ago - met his red ones with such anger and ferocity that she's amaze smoke hasn't appeared from her ears yet.

"But you see, your brother truly had me believed. He was very good," he says, low voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard in Olivia's ears. "But has he told you the things he's done to convince me?"

"His name is Maxwell," she grits out. "Have the fucking courage to say his name."

For a moment, something flashes in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous and Olivia truly thought that was the end of her, but as soon as it came, the dangerous glint was gone and the calculating look returned and Olivia let out a sigh of relief.

"I'd be careful if I were you," he warns her and this time, Olivia follows the advice, keeping her mouth shut and her lips tight.

"Do you know your brother, Maxwell, had tortured and murdered innocents?" He goes back to his taunting, enjoying the way her body stiffens. "He has that darkness in him, one I believed rivaled my own.

Olivia's eyes shut, knowing this already. Maxwell has darkness in him the same way she does.

"He's like me," Voldemort continues. "And so are you."

At that, Olivia's eyes fly open, glaring at him once again. "I'm nothing like you."

At that, Voldemort smirks, having gotten the reaction he was going for. "You're everything like me. You don't think I haven't heard of the muggles you murdered? I have to say, though, I'm very proud. I, too, used a snake for my first kill."

At the reminder, Olivia feels her chest burn. "I didn't mean to-"

"Did you not?" He cuts her off. "Did you truly not mean it or is that what you tell yourself? Did you not feel even the slightest satisfaction when you saw? Did you not feel happiness when you learned they suffered before the guilt set in?"

Olivia bows her head in shame, admitting to herself for the first that she did feel those things. She felt satisfaction and happiness when she first saw it. Those people who had a hand in torturing a child, her child, had suffered painful deaths and she had felt fulfilled till she realized what it meant, what that made her.

A monster. It made her a monster.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," he tells her again and Olivia looks up at him. "It's in our blood to lack compassion and empathy. You see, it all started with my mother and how she had tragically fallen in love with a muggle."

He says the word mouth as if it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue yet all Olivia can think about is the fact that Voldemort is a half blood. This man known for terrorizing thousands due to blood purity is not as pure bloodied as he led on.

"But this muggle had no interest in her," he continues, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Tell me, do you know what amortentia is? And the side effects it causes to children born from a fabricated love?"

Olivia's heart sinks as she remembers her lesson on the topic. Of course, the potion had played a big part in her realizing her true feelings for James, but she ignores that for a moment. Instead she thinks back to the essay she wrote about it, about how a child born from a love potion is unable to experience love.

He must have seen the realization in her eyes as he smirks at her. "That's right. Emotions, I'm rid of those wretched things. Did you think it wouldn't affect you?"

"No. I'm not like you. I know love," she said in denial, shaking her head, but even she knows she's lying. Perhaps she is unlike him but she had inherited it. Emotions had not come easy for Olivia. Compassion and empathy are perhaps ones she struggles most.

"Oh, I know," he sneered, eyes darting to her bulging stomach. "I know of your boy and the child you killed for and the children in your stomach. I know everything that goes on in your life."

Olivia's head suddenly spins. How can he possibly know? How does he know? How does he know? No one knows about her twins apart from the marauders, her siblings and Kat and Lily.

"How did you think I knew you'd be in Hogsmeade when my men launched the failed attack?" He taunts again. "Or that you'd be there last night?"

It was then that realization dawns.

There's a traitor among them.

"You were after me the entire time," she breathes out in realization. "The attack in hogsmeade, that was for me."

"You're catching up, I see."

She looked up at him, once again meeting his red eyes. "You want me dead."

"Oh no," he says, leaning forward. "I have no desire to kill you. You haven't given me a reason to. What I want to know is if you're useful. You see, the prophecy talks about a power unlike any other. With proper training, you can be invincible and together, we would be unstoppable."

Olivia feels the tightness in her chest return, because it's tempting and she feels guilty for even being tempted.

"I'm nothing like you," she tells him again, voice heavy but firm.

He leans back on his chair. "If that's the case then I believe I have no use for you anymore."

"Will you kill me then? Me and your unborn grandchildren?"

He gives her another sinister smirk, the kind that makes her skin crawl. "Do not worry, prophecy child. I will not kill you just yet."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞:

this is probably my favorite

chapter ever. i loved writing

this. also, i know voldemort's

a bit out of character but mostly

because i wrote tom riddle and

not really voldemort.

i hope you guys enjoyed this!

we're so near the end omg