Over the next few days, the atmosphere in the tent was quite awkward. Fred kept looking like he was going to say something to me, but at the last minute changed his mind. I was sort of avoiding him, occasionally looking down at the 'F' scar on my chest and wondering if that red gleam I saw in his eyes momentarily had anything to do with Riddle. 

We'd discussed before, in hushed tones outside the tent when me and Fred were on watch and the others were inside, what the red in his eyes meant when he was destroying the locket. We had a theory it was the piece of Riddle's soul inside the locket trying to possess him, in a last desperate attempt to stop him from destroying it. But there had been no Horcrux anywhere near us when Fred and I were having sex. So why did he have that strange scarlet gleam in his eyes? 

The other three had also noticed the weird tension between us. George kept going back and forth between us, hanging out with us in turn, but with a permanent concerned look on his face. Terry stayed by my side constantly, worried that something had happened to me, which I constantly reassured him did not. Lee tried to crack jokes to ease the tension, but when those efforts failed, he took his wireless and sat in the corner hosting Potterwatch. 

But we really should have been more careful. One day, it all went wrong. 

"Look, I'm sorry, Daisy, alright?" Fred raised his voice, and I took a step back, my eyes widening. "Stop tiptoeing around me as if I'm gonna explode and hurt you or something! You ASKED for it!" 

"I know that -" I said hurriedly, but Terry butted in, suddenly scowling. 

"What did you just say, mate? She asked for it?" He said. "What did she ask for?" 

"Yeah." Fred said, panting. "Go on, Daisy. Tell him what you asked for." 

I looked nervously in between them. George and Lee were watching us by the entrance to the tent, watch shift forgotten. 

"Softpaw..." Terry said in a much gentler tone, turning to me. I shook my head. 

"She wanted me to hurt her." Fred said, his eyes flashing. "When I fucked her the other day. She wanted me to - to choke her and cut her... go on then, show them what's on your chest!" 

I backed away, shaking my head again. I really didn't want to. I knew it wasn't Fred's fault that it happened, it was me, it was all me... 

But a voice whispered from the back of my mind, 'and Riddle...' 

"Sweetie, let me see." Terry said, reaching out for the bottom of my jumper. I let him, blinking away the tears forming in my eyes. He lifted it up, his warm brown eyes focusing in between my breasts, and they narrowed, his nose flaring. He dropped my jumper, whirling around to Fred, and snarled, "You - you piece of -" 

And before he could finish his furious sentence, he had launched himself at Fred, his wand out. A jet of purple light shot out and hit Fred, who yelped; a second one connected with his chest, and he was thrown back onto the floor, screeching, "Terry, fuckin' stop it, man!" 

Terry looked like he had no intention of stopping; his face was twisted in fury and he was advancing upon Fred with his wand raised, shooting hex after hex at him. 

I blinked, forcing myself out of my stunned stupor. "Terry!" I ran forward, darting in between my best friend and my boyfriend, my arms stretched out wide. I was reminded forcefully of me defending Hufflepuff's cup from George. "Terry, stop! It's not his fault!" 

"Get out of the way, babe." Terry said, his eyes hard and fixed on the boy behind me. 

"Terry, please!" I begged. "He wasn't himself! It was - it was Riddle!" 

Terry immediately halted. His wand dropped to his side. His eyes, widened in disbelief, moved slowly from Fred to me. Then realisation dawned upon him. 

"Are you telling me..." He said slowly, "that VOLDEMORT possessed Fred the oth-" 

But Terry stopped talking, and I knew why. A loud CRACK had resounded through the air; the Sneakoscope on the table beside us had lit up and begun to spin; we could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. 

"Come out of there with your hands up!" A rasping voice came through the darkness. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!" 

I looked around at the others, panicked. I saw Terry frantically reach for Gryffindor's sword, slipping it into his bottomless bag; he then pointed his wand, not toward the outside, but into my face; there was a bang, a burst of white light, and I buckled in agony, unable to see. I could feel my facial structure changing rapidly under my hands as heavy footfalls surrounded me. My face was thinning, becoming more defined, the bones in my face changing and causing me intense pain; my hair was lightening... 

"Get up, bitch."

Unknown hands dragged me roughly off the ground. I clutched at my excruciatingly painful face, which felt unrecognisable beneath my fingers, defined with high cheekbones. My eyes were watering badly and I could barely see; all I could make out were the blurred shapes of six or seven people wrestling Fred, George, Terry, and Lee outside too.

"Get - off - her!" Fred shouted. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Fred grunted in pain and I screamed, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone, motherfucker!"

"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list." The horribly familiar, rasping voice said. "Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of the skin..." 

My stomach turned over. I knew who this was, Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery. 

"Now, let's see who we've got." Greyback's gloating voice said, and I was thrown onto the ground and rolled over onto my back. 

I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes so that I could see, as the boys were giving fake names to the men. I was so confused and terrified; what had Terry done to my face? My hair was brown now; it felt as if my facial structure had changed - 

"I'b Bardy." Fred said, and I could tell that his mouth was full of blood. "Bardy Weasley."

"Another Weasley?" Greyback rasped. "So you two're related to blood traitors even if you're not Mudbloods. Pureblood, but blood traitor, Scabior." 

"Right..." Another voice said, accompanied with the sound of scrawling on parchment. 

"And lastly, your pretty little friend..." The relish in his voice made my skin crawl. I felt a hand trail down my body, and I flinched violently. 

"Easy, Greyback." Scabior said over the jeering of the other men.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?" 

"Ariana Grande." I said hurriedly. 

"Blood status?" 

"Half blood." 

"Easy enough to check." Scabior said. "But the 'ole lot of 'em look like they could still be 'Ogwarts age -" 

"We'b lebt." Fred said.

"Left, 'ave you, ginger?" Scabior said. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lord's name?"

"Not a laugh." George said. "Accident."

"Accident?" There was more jeering laughter.

"You know who used to like using the Dark Lord's name, Weasley?" Greyback growled. "The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?"

"No."

"Well, they don't show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name's been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We'll see. Bind them up with the other prisoner!"

Someone yanked me up by the hair, dragged me a short way, pushed me down into a sitting position, then started binding my hands together behind my back. I was still half blind, barely able to see anything through my watering eyes, though the pressure in my head was finally lessening. When at last the man tying us had walked away, I whispered to the other prisoners.

"Anyone still got a wand?"

"No." The twins, Terry, and Lee said from either side of me.

"This is all my fault." Terry said. "I said the name. Fuck sake, guys, I'm sorry -" 

"Don't worry about it, Hopper, how were you supposed to know they'd cursed the name?" 

"Daisy?"

It was a new but familiar voice and it came from directly behind me, from the person on Lee's left.

"Dean?"

"It IS you! If they find out who they've got -! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold -" 

"'Ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!"

As Scabior said it, my scar, which was stretched tight across my changed forehead, burned savagely. More clearly than I could make out anything around me, I saw a black-haired, green-eyed girl sashaying her hips towards the bed I was lounging back on, my arms behind my head; Riddle's thoughts had suddenly become razor-sharp again; I was watching the girl as she ran her hands down herself, her body clad in only the skimpiest set of lingerie I'd ever seen...

With a huge effort of will I closed my mind to Riddle's thoughts, pulling myself back to where I sat, tied up, in between Fred and Terry in the darkness, listening to Greyback and Scabior. My eyes had finally cleared up, and I was able to get a good look at them at last. They were both as ugly as each other. 

"'Terry Boot,'" Scabior was saying, "'the blood traitor who is known to be travelling with Daisy Potter.'" 

My scar burned in the silence, but I made a supreme effort to keep myself present, not to slip into Riddle's mind. Greyback crouched down in front of Terry.

"You know what, little boy? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."

"It isn't! It isn't me!"

Terry's high-pitched plead was as good as a confession.

"... Known to be travelling with Daisy Potter." Greyback repeated quietly.

A stillness had settled over the scene. My scar was exquisitely painful, but I struggled with all my strength against the pull of Riddle's thoughts. It had never been so important to remain in my own right mind.

"Well, this changes things, doesn't it?" Greyback whispered. Nobody spoke: the gang of Snatchers was watching, frozen, and I felt Terry's arm trembling against mine. Greyback got up and took a couple of steps to where I sat, crouching down again to stare closely at my misshapen features.

"What's that on your forehead, Ariana?" He asked softly as he pressed a filthy finger to the taught scar.

"Don't touch it!" I yelled; I couldn't stop myself, I thought I might be sick from the pain of it. 

The girl was on top of me now... she was grinding against me, her head thrown back... my hand crept up and wrapped around her throat... 

"... To the Ministry?"

"To hell with the Ministry." Greyback growled. "They'll take the credit, and we won't get a look in. I say we take her straight to You-Know-Who."

"Will you summon 'im? 'Ere?" Scabior said, sounding awed, terrified.

"No." Greyback snarled. "I haven't got - they're using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the girl there."

I knew why Greyback wasn't calling Riddle. The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Riddle's inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback hadn't been granted this highest honour.

My scar seared again - the girl was taking me down her throat, gagging, choking as I forced her head down; her nails scrabbled at my thighs, her eyes streaming, gazing up at me in terror, practically begging me to let her breathe... 

"... Completely sure it's her? 'Cause if it ain't, Greyback, we're dead."

"Who's in charge here?" Greyback roared, covering his moment of inadequacy. "I say that's Potter, and that's two hundred thousand Galleons right there! But if you're too gutless to come along, any of you, it's all for me!" 

They all looked at each other. And I gulped as they all moved to take an arm of each captive, turning on the spot with us... 

And so we were taken to Floppy's manor, where we were marched in and shown to Adam Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, while Floppy lingered in the corner, his eyes back to black, glaring at me with a hatred I'd rarely ever seen. 

But still, the three were not sure that it was me. I could see myself in the mirror above the fireplace; my hair was still long and curly, but it was chestnut-coloured, and my eyes were a deep caramel brown. My cheeks were no longer chubby, but defined cheekbones and an angled jawline stood out instead. But those were the only differences; Terry mustn't've had enough time to fully change me. I still looked very much like me beyond the colour changes and cheeks, and my scar, however stretched it had become, was still there. 

And Bellatrix was distraught. 

"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!" She fumed, staring at me with her widened, slightly-crazed eyes. 

"This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my -" Malfoy said. 

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we would be in if we are wrong!" Bellatrix shrieked. She looked frightening, mad; a thin stream of fire issued from her wand and burned a hole in the carpet.

Adam Malfoy hesitated for a moment, then addressed the werewolf.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."

"Wait." Bellatrix said sharply. "All except... except for the Potter girl."

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

"No!" Fred shouted. "You can have me, keep me!"

Bellatrix hit him across the face: the blow echoed around the room.

"If she faints under questioning, I'll take you next." She said. "Blood traitor is next to adulterer in my book." 

"A-adulterer?" I laughed weakly. "I'm not a cheater - Fre-" I paused. "Hang on. I'm not even married, so." 

"Mmm... what's this, then?" Adam Malfoy took my hand, holding it up so that the silver band gleamed under the light of the chandelier. He licked his lips, his eyes glinting as they focused on my wedding ring. 

I wrenched my hand back, glaring at him. 

"Take them downstairs, Greyback," Bellatrix ordered, "and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them - yet." 

She then took a short silver knife from under her robes, cut me free from my bindings, then dragged me by the hair into the middle of the room. Greyback forced the others to shuffle across to another door, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force. Fred, George, and Terry struggled desperately against it, yelling, as I gazed up at Bellatrix, gulping again. 

She stared down at me, the knife twirling in her hands, her dark eyes swimming with a dark pleasure. As much as I feared her, I also found her irresistibly attractive... fuck, no, Daisy, she's about to torture you, stop! 

And as she knocked me down onto the ground, straddling me, I wasn't sure if what I felt next was pain or exhilaration. 

~~~ 

*Terry's POV* 

The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away before there was a terrible, drawn out scream from directly above us.

"DAISY!" Fred bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying his wrists together. "DAISY!"

"Be quiet!" I said. "Shut up. Fred, we need to work out a way -" 

"DAISY! DAISY!"

"We need a plan, stop yelling - we need to get these ropes off -" 

"Terry?" A whisper came through the darkness. "Fred? Is that you?"

Fred stopped shouting. There was a sound of movement close by us, then I saw a shadow moving closer.

"Terry? Fred?"

"Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you lot to be caught!"

"Luna, can you help us get these bastard ropes off?" I said.

"Oh yes, I expect so... There's an old nail we use if we need to break anything... Just a moment..."

Daisy screamed again from overhead, and we could hear Bellatrix screaming too, but her words were inaudible, for Fred shouted again, "DAISY! DAISY!"

"Mr Ollivander?" I could hear Luna saying. "Mr Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit... I think it was beside the water jug."

She was back within seconds.

"You'll need to stay still." She said.

I could feel her digging at my rope's tough fibers to work the knots free. From upstairs we heard Bellatrix's voice.

"I'm going to ask you again! Are you Daisy Potter? ARE YOU?" 

"I'm not - I'm not - PLEASE!" Daisy screamed again; I felt the ropes binding my wrists fall away, and rubbed at my sore skin; Fred struggled against his harder than ever. 

"Fred, please stay still!" Luna whispered. "I can't see what I'm doing -" 

From above came Bellatrix's voice again.

"You're lying, stupid girl, and I know it! You are wearing his ring! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

Another terrible scream - 

"DAISY!"

"Are you Daisy Potter? Are you? Tell me the truth or I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

"There!"

I turned, rubbing my wrists, to see Fred running around the cellar, looking up at the low ceiling, searching for a trapdoor. George, Lee, and Dean were shivering as Luna approached them next, and I watched Fred's efforts with a sinking feeling in my chest. 

He was now trying to Disapparate without a wand.

"There's no way out, Fred." Luna said, watching his fruitless efforts. "The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr Ollivander has been here for a long time, he's tried everything."

Daisy was screaming again: the sound went through me like physical pain. Barely conscious of the red sores around my wrists anymore, I too started to run around the cellar, feeling the walls for I hardly knew what, knowing in my heart that it was useless.

"Are you Daisy Potter, girl? Are you? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

Daisy's screams echoed off the walls upstairs; Fred was half sobbing as he pounded the walls with his fists. George, Lee, and Dean were striding around like me, searching the ceiling, searching the walls; George rattled the door, his eyes full of angry, desperate tears. 

"Yes!" Daisy screamed, and my heart stopped. "Yes! YES! I am, I am, just - PLEASE stop..." 

Shit. 

Shit. 

SHIT. 

~~~

*Daisy's POV* 

I lay panting underneath Bellatrix as the woman's face split into a crazed grin. 

"What did you just say? You said...?" She whispered. 

"I - I - I'm Daisy Potter, yeah." I whimpered, wriggling under where she straddled me, her weight keeping me down. 

Her left hand was pinning me down by the shoulder, and she was jabbing the tip of her wand into my neck with her other hand, the blood-stained knife discarded on the floor next to us. I winced as she shifted on me, rubbing against the deep cuts she'd left; an after-shock of the Cruciatus Curse went through me, and I whimpered again. 

"You are Daisy Lily Potter?" Bellatrix breathed. 

"Yes." I said, my voice shaking. 

She got off me, rising to her full height. I lay on the ground, trembling. Floppy and Adam Malfoy watched from beside the fireplace, and Greyback was gripping the back of an armchair; he was gazing at me with hunger in his eyes. 

"And now," Bellatrix said in a voice that burst with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord!"

And she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark.

At once, my scar felt as though it had split open again. My true surroundings vanished: I was Riddle, and the girl underneath me was trembling as her back bled; I was enraged at the summons I felt - I had warned them, I had told them to summon me for nothing less than Daisy. If they were mistaken...

"Please," The girl whimpered as the cuts shaped like giant angel wings in her back pulsed out blood, "please, no more, I'm not Daniela, I'm not her..." 

"No, you are not." And Riddle's fury broke at the girl getting Daisy's name wrong; a burst of green light filled my quarters and the girl's body fell back, lifeless. I zipped up my trousers, throwing my button-up back over my shoulders, my wrath barely controllable... They would suffer my retribution if they had no good reason for calling me back... 

And suddenly, my pain increased tenfold. Someone was screaming bloody murder; I could see myself on the floor of the Malfoy's manor, writhing and crying and attempting to claw the scar off my face, and it was me, it was me who was screaming - 

And with a flick of my wand - I was seeing things from my own eyes now. I gazed up at Riddle's ridiculously handsome face, up at his wand which had just cast some enchantment on me, up at his half buttoned shirt, showing the delicious sight underneath... 

"Is that better, my love?" He said smoothly, lowering his wand. I rubbed at my scar, which wasn't hurting anymore, and nodded cautiously. He was very capable of making me hurt again if he wanted to. "Well, don't we look different? Why do you have a different face, my dear wife?" 

Riddle crouched beside me, his wand dangling carelessly from his fingers. I eyed it as his crimson eyes moved across my face, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards in a little smirk. 

"Ah, I see. This was the work of Mr Boot, I presume? An amateur attempt at a hex that takes great skill to pull off." Riddle aimed his wand at me, and I flinched. "Finite!" 

Instantly, I felt my bones correct. I could see out of the corner of my eye that my hair was black again. 

"Why didn't anybody think of that before, huh?" I muttered. "Aren't you all supposed to be accomplished witches and wizards?" 

Riddle regarded me for a moment, amused. Then his eyes dropped below my face, moving over my bloody body, which was still trembling from the after-shocks of the Cruciatus Curse. 

"Yes." He straightened up, turning to face Bellatrix, Greyback, Malfoy, and Floppy. "Indeed. Why did none of you think to attempt to remove the effects of the hex, rather than torturing my wife? Who did this?" 

"My - My Lord -" Bellatrix said, but Riddle rounded on her. Within a split second, she was on the ground, writhing and screaming under Riddle's Cruciatus. 

I didn't know why I wasn't moving. I could be trying to use my Grace, or calling Gabriel - something I've tried to do multiple times in the past half hour, but to no response except for an odd burning from the ring on my left hand - or even just running, but instead I watched Riddle torture Bellatrix, then turn his wand on the others, unleashing his wrath on them. 

It was intriguing; I watched my husband raise his wand again and again, fury lining his attractive face, and drank in the odd pleasure he seemed to get from torturing people. 

And in what seemed like no time at all, he let his wand fall. "Bella, you mentioned that you had other prisoners?" 

I snapped out of my stupor. Fuck. No, not them. Please not them. 

Bellatrix nodded, and Riddle said, "Fetch them for me." 

His right-hand woman disappeared down the cellar steps, and Riddle turned to me. With a sickeningly evil smirk, he bent down and scooped me off the floor, cradling me bridal style in his arms. I hung limp as I felt the sensation of his arms and hands underneath me, wrapped around me, pressed in so close to his warm body, his shirt unbuttoned right in front of my face - 

"My love..." Riddle whispered, his handsome face bent down over me, his red eyes gleaming with triumph, "how long I have waited for you to fall into my hands again..." 

I was fucked. Well, and truly, fucked.