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fricc-darn · 1 month

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if BEN found out they liked someone, would they directly confess to them or communicate in a more poltergeist way?

They would avoid that person. Or at least try to.

Warning for physical abuse + strangulation

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You missed them.

You missed them more than anything in the world.

It was unlike you to act in such a manner. To grovel over someone who has hurt others, including you. They had been playing with your heart for so long that your feelings confused you. You wanted to be with BEN more than anything in the world. All the suffering it brought upon others was justified in your mind. After all, you are alive and in a relatively better position than the thousands of others BEN came across.

To you, the stories of those who came before mattered little. Those people chose death. A decision only they can make, regardless of external factors. A selfish and greedy decision, yet you were no better for viewing one's life with such little regard. BEN had its reasons for acting the way it did. Even if those reasons were unbeknownst to you.

They're much more than their vicious exterior. BEN can be sweet, sometimes. Sweeter, compared to the first time you met, becoming intrigued by you. It wanted to study you. A dehumanizing experience at first, it treated you like some type of pet. Yet, an easy role to fall into after the hell it put you through. The same logic still applied, always follow their rules. Everything was on their terms. In your mind, this made sense; you were the first human BEN wanted to get close to.

But this time around, you couldn't find any rhyme or reason to BEN's recent actions. It pulled a tasteless, cruel act that made you so neurotic.

BEN disappeared for two weeks.

Two full weeks.

Your days went by at an agonizingly slow pace. Not once did BEN appear. It had eyes everywhere in your home; it had to be watching to some extent. Yet, there were no new messages or unearthly activity. Disappointment left each moment more miserable than the last. There was an undeniable ache in your heart when BEN wasn't around. An ache made worse now that you were completely alone.

Have you upset them? You couldn't recall doing anything that would cause BEN to go through such lengths to ignore you. There were no arguments, no rude comments, nothing. This couldn't be the case; you had to have done something—anything. BEN wouldn't leave without a reason. You weren't as smart as them, nor did you have the best memory. There had to be a situation you were forgetting.

All you have done today is wander throughout your house. Subconsciously circling the same rooms, clutching onto a sliver of hope that BEN might be there waiting. With each shaking step, you sank deeper into your unruly thoughts. The last times you were with BEN were nothing but enjoyable, more so than usual.

Strangely, it trotted the indecisive line between refusing to spend time with you and finding any reason to be around you. Despite the pleasant quality time,

Its tone seemed off. Not all there and spacey. A tone you had noticed for months but couldn't pinpoint a cause.

Stumbling into the kitchen, a sourness hits your nostrils. The kitchen was left in a state no better than your mind. It reeked of unwashed dishes. Leftover dough and stale desserts festered with mold.

Cookies.

The two of you made cookies after ages of trying to convince BEN to make food with you. Surprising that it even took the offer. BEN always said it was senseless; it could eat but didn't need to eat. In spite of that, you so often notice them lingering when you cook, as if they want to try. You settled on making chocolate chip cookies. An easy recipe with the flavor BEN preferred the most.

BEN explained professional baking techniques to you with such gentleness that they hardly made any snide remarks. Purely focused on the task at hand. Its soft hands rested on top of yours, helping you knead the dough. Cold hands that have killed felt so alive and warm. How badly you wanted those hands to embrace you and keep you close. To cling to your body like you are a need instead of a want. Yet BEN quickly moved away, as if the closeness of that maneuver held no significance.

You were stuck in a cycle between selfishness and reasonability. You have received no affection for what felt like forever, ever since your loved ones have been out of your life. However, to want attention from someone who is so touch-averse was a self-centered desire. In no way were you entitled to know why BEN acts like that; knowing would just make life a hell of a lot easier.

The overwhelming smell in the kitchen got increasingly nauseating. The air became stale, and you felt weak. You quickly turned on your heels, checking the living room. Your legs continued to jitter, refusing yourself the chance to sit on the couch for even a moment. You tried to rationalize your strange attraction.

A part of you knew there was no reason to be upset. BEN was awful. A terrifying piece of technology with a cruel disposition that fed off of suffering. You've been stuck with them like the old ball and chain. How would one even manage a relationship with someone who will never be satisfied?

Your half-lidded eyes scanned the room in an attempt to find something else to think about. Another useless effort. Just another messy room to wallow in. Stray pillows and blankets were on the floor by the window nook. A place where BEN simply observed whatever went on outside. Even inhuman entities loved the mundane. From frolicking animals to changing weather, it never got tired of watching it all. They're very cat-like.

Not too long ago, you two laid together in that cozy nook. BEN was always more talkative whenever they were comfortable. While it divulged its train of thought, its serene words calmed you like a lullaby. Remembering that BEN had other interests besides malice was surreal. Trivial sweet bits of information were a privilege that only you were granted. You were grateful; BEN hardly spoke about itself.

So you listened attentively. Pondering what existence was like for BEN. Since the day you met, you've pieced together bits of its circumstances. None of which sounded pleasant. It was made up of many people and had ties to a cult. Which gave you more questions than answers. What you knew for is that BEN is bitter and troubled. Excruciatingly aware of everything that has happened and what could happen.

It knew too much about you, down to the uncomfortable details that those closest to you didn't know. It is not like BEN is a stranger, but its attention to detail still didn't feel like enough. Shamefully, you wished for more. For BEN to speak of you with as much reverence as their religion. You would never be equal to their god, their precious Luna. You held as much importance as a passerby in their long lives. In desperate times, you hesitated praying to the same god just for a chance with them.

This pacing, all this thinking, and the uncertainty drained the little energy you had left. The aura in the living room is as dreadful as the kitchen. You were tired, fed up with whatever game this is. Giving up on needing your feelings validated, a nap sounded better to achieve some peace of mind.

Heading for the stairs, you reassured yourself that none of this mattered. What you felt was a passing fling. That BEN was off pulling some crazy stunt or, more likely, had gotten bored with you. Intensifying thumping up the stairs, emotions overriding common sense. Storming to your room, the door creaked, slowly opening on its own. Stepping in with glossy eyes, a heavy groan left you. There was no relief from this ache, even in the most sacred part of your home.

The bedsheets draped onto the floor, and random water bottles littered the room. If you weren't wandering, you were here, rotting away. You could hardly see anything if it weren't for the golden afternoon sunlight peeking into the dark room. Stepping over the trash, you head over to bed. Thinking back to when BEN left without a word. The moment was a blur. A show played on the television, serving as mere background noise rather than providing anything of substance. You two sat on the floor, face to face.

From BEN's hands, it seemed... nervous? There laid a glint of hesitation in its eyes. You swore you imagined it. BEN being nervous was too unlikely, impossible even. Your face rested on the palm of its hand, letting its fingers tenderly caress your cheek. So close, the space between was diminishing, inching closer and closer.

So close.

Just like that BEN pulled away and left.

Your head pounded from remembering too much at once. You feel a chill, the hairs on your skin raised. A cool breath tickled the back of your neck, a faint snicker. "This place is a pigsty." BEN spoke in a deceiving, lighthearted tone. Its hushed voice sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the flames in your heart. You quickly turned around, greeting it with a smile and bright eyes. Swiftly you approached BEN with your arms outstretched.

BEN took a step back. It looked down at you then looked elsewhere. Its grin twitched. They've never left you alone for such an extended period. BEN was fairly impressed with how the effects of isolation took a toll on you. It expected you to break in at least two days, not several. You always find ways to surprise them.

Unfortunately, the circumstances of this surprise were hardly fun anymore. This couldn't have been because of pity, absolutely not. Your eyes were beet red and puffy; you looked unwell. Acting in the same manner as a neglected zoo animal. "I see you missed me. Clingy, now are we?" BEN spoke sardonically, masking its true tone of voice with ease.

You stare at them blankly. Clingy? That comment shouldn't have irked you as much as it did. Emotions that you tried to keep under wraps bubbled to the surface. The response wasn't enough to sully any of your excitement about seeing BEN again. Only severing as a painful reminder that you meant nothing to BEN. "I'm not clingy." You grit your teeth; clenching your jaw worsens the throbbing headache.

"You expect me to feel nothing after you disappeared for two weeks without saying a word?" Your voice croaked, like the old wooden floorboards of your home. As hard as you tried, some bitterness seeped out. It couldn't even look at you in the eyes. That small gleam of hope for clarity slowly fizzled out. You've done nothing to cross them, and you still felt like you were stuck in an endless cycle of punishment.

BEN laughed before going completely quiet. You are full of surprises today! Going from obedient to snippy in those few days. Though it could only tolerate squeaky fussing for so long. If you could speak about anything else, their annoyance would subside. "I never said that." It took a glance around your disheveled room. Refusing to look you in the eye for long. "You should focus on more pressing matters. The trash and poor attitude won't fix itself." BEN whispered, kicking a crushed-up water bottle in your direction.

That arrogant smile you grew to love made your blood boil. A wave of heat rose in your face as involuntary tears pricked at your eyes. Balling up your hands into a fist, digging your nails into your palm. "Then stop fucking acting like nothing happened." You shouted, stomping your foot on the floor.

Frustrated, tired. You weren't as strong as you made yourself out to be. Easily falling into a pit of despair. Realizing without BEN, nobody was there for you. Friends and family gone, your dreams abandoned, every connection you had to any other person severed. If you had to be alone with someone, it had to be BEN.

"We don't owe you an explanation." BEN stated, hanging on to a thin, cordial veil. A familiar disdain ate at them. If this feeling wasn't pity, then it was not empathy; at least that's what BEN wanted to believe. Refusing to accept that your ear grating breakdown was affecting them. A breakdown caused by it leaving over something so silly, it wasn't worth admitting. Opting to dance around the fact, hoping you'll grow tired.

Patience was their virtue, a quality they have learned throughout the years. There was no point in acting violently to get you to stop. Force is primitive and too ineffective for their liking.

A loud groaning left you as your hands rubbed your face, moving up and harshly running your fingers through your hair. You weren't crazy or unreasonable and were tired of being treated as such. "I don't understand why you have to be so difficult about how you feel." Sniffling your tears, you mumbled. "Do you always lead on your victims like this?"

BEN crocks its head to the side, its smile faltering faster than the setting sun. Eyes finally locked onto you, expression still and emotionless. They've been called much worse degrading things that never phased them. However, none of those words came from your mouth. BEN didn't know why it was still trying to give you some leniency.

You didn't know your luck—how good you have it. The audacity to play the victim. You didn't know how they felt; you couldn't understand. All this yelling, shouting, and crying stirred a great discomfort in BEN. "Choose your words carefully."

Your back straightens on its own accord. Trembling like a baby foal, unsure if it was due to the lowering temperature or fear. Wiping your tears, you spoke up. "You got bored with me; that's why you left. You don't care. I could kill myself, and you wouldn't bat an eye! It's what you want, right, BEN?" Your lips quivered, spitting your words out, acrid and firm. Oddly, being rude to BEN felt cathartic, giving them a taste of their toxicity.

"You're right. I don't care."

A painfully forced, wide-toothed grin spread across BEN's face. "You thought you were an exception? That I'd fall head over heels for you?" BEN took a step closer, stepping on top of the mess that rested on top of your floor. "If you want to die so badly, then do so. I'll gladly help." Its empty gaze, unfaltering, staring into your soul.

You, a deer staring at oncoming headlights. The satisfaction of your insult was rapidly wearing off. You had to move. You needed to move. Staggering backward, losing more balance with each footstep from the junk on the floor. "Y...You treat me like an exception. Why is it such a crime that I love you?" No longer did you speak with defiance, a mere squeak in response to its robotic voice.

BEN glared. Love. What a burden. Love is a crippling malady, one that erodes all sense in the mind. All-consuming and maddening. They had no need for such a waste of time; spare the tooth-rotting spiel about love. How cruel of you to lecture them about love, as if they were some simple machine. Every thought had BEN stomping its way to you, your back to the wall. "You're not in love with me. You're an idiot with an attachment disorder. I did you a favor by leaving. Shame you're too stupid to see that."

Its words dug into you. Tearing your heart into shreds, pushing more tears out of your eyes. You wanted to puke, crawl to the floor, and pitifully beg for forgiveness. A fear similar to your first encounter with BEN. Paralyzing eye contact, feeling worse each moment you looked into its flickering eyes. "If you don't care, then why did you come back? You almost kissed me last time! Just admit you have a soft spot for-"

You went down with a thud head first.

BEN loomed on top of you, gripping your throat with its hands. Erratically, you squirmed. Kicking and writhing on the floor. Desperately clawing at BEN's arms, a feeble attempt at having it stop.

"Shut up! Shut up!" BEN shouted—no screeched at you, over and over, each time hitting your head against the floor, tightening its hold on your neck.

The pressure building up in your head was far worse than any headache or migraine. You gasped, trying to breathe or say something, which resulted in a gurgle. All of your fighting wasted energy. BEN shouted its head off. You shake your head, pressing your nails deeper into its arm.

"I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel. I don't understand." BEN pressed its fingers against your soft flesh. There was no point in any of this. Victim, companion, friend, whatever label you fell under, the outcome would have been the same.

This could not be love. Love hurts and makes you irrational, like something is eating you from the inside. They had no interest in it, no desire, until your devotion to them. Always wearing your heart on your sleeve and overly selfless to your detriment. You made them feel good. The attention and closeness are everything they craved.

You croak as more air escapes you. Your body involuntarily thrashes before your hands drop to the floor.

"You want something from me I cannot give." They would have to change to do that, and changing is an act of defeat. Another defeat over something they couldn't help. "We can't love you. Not in the way you deserve." Who on earth would willingly love an AI, Frankenstein's monster? Someone who has almost caused your death so many times. This occasion seemed more merciful than the last.

Your face slowly turns into a shade of deep purple, and your lips, blue. You feared your eyes would pop out of the socket.

"We wish we could."

That wasn't true. Whatever deluded conclusion they came up with was not true. You wanted BEN as is. Whatever definition of love they had, you wanted to experience that with them. You got what you wanted. This was the most direct BEN has ever been, and you wanted to bask in it. You'd listen to them talk till the end. Yet their voices seemed so distant; everything did. The sounds of a broken computer felt like little soft hums with ringing. Lightheaded, everything seemed slower, like minutes passed.

It couldn't have been that long, right? It stopped banging your head. The light in the room seemed to dim. Pins and needles worked up your body, your cracked lips mouthing its name. It's perfectly shaped hair, a mess covering parts of its face. BEN's eyes looked...damp? Crazed but damp. Like it was on the brink of tears but couldn't cry.

You didn't fight back. You couldn't, nor did you want to. Yes, you were scared, but you felt relaxed. A strange high, repeating yourself to at least know you were awake. You didn't want to die, but if it proved what you meant, BEN, you'd let them kill you.

You would let BEN hurt you.

Again and again.

Until they feel better.

#i did something a little different! i wanted to go in depth with the hc i have that BEN would just dip if they had a crush #BEN angst but it tweaks tf out my favorite kind 😭💀#and more details about BEN's disorganized attachment style #behavioral event network #ben drowned #behavioral event network x reader #ben drowned x reader

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toomanyfandoms-notenoughfics · 1 year

Text

Celestial Beings

Chapter Two: Talking it Out

Characters: Reader, Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Summary: After many, many days of dealing with Moody's visits, (y/n) get two new visitors, who seem to be much much nicer.

Word Count: 2,285

Warnings: Torture Mention, SA Mention (it's mostly glossed over, no major details), Child Abuse Mention

A/N: Just in case I forgot to mention previously, this is not completely canon-compliant. I also have made Moody more of an a-hole, if anyone wants to know my thought process on that matter go ahead in send in a quick ask. Actually, feel free to send in an ask about anything, I would love to answer! I'm enjoying writing this, and I hope that at least some people are enjoying reading this.

Torture and pain were nothing new to (y/n), actually, it rather reminded her of home. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the small room, nor how many times she’d had her “visits” with Moody. They rarely lasted longer than a few hours. The longest time, from what little sense of it she had, was somewhere around 8 hours.

Speaking of home, she missed it quite a bit. Malfoy Manor was a lot more cruel on the inside than most people could even guess. Not particularly any fault of Mrs. Malfoy or Draco, but rather Lucius. The head of the household, and loyal follower of her father, obeyed any and every command given. Of course, most of those orders were on how to best “raise and properly train” (y/n), which typically involved some form of torture.

(Y/n) of course, followed along as well, it was easier than dealing with the consequences. Out of everything, waterboarding was the worst. Followed closely behind spending any nights with a few perverted men, less as a consequence, more so as a reward for their loyalty to You-Know-Who. She had the scars to prove the ordeals she went through, as much as she would prefer to forget.

Even though she acted nonchalant about it all, she was still a person. She just couldn’t afford to be seen that way. In her opinion, it was better to be seen as an object or a weapon, a mere pawn on a chessboard. Then at least she herself could pretend to have no weaknesses, no breaking point. She preferred that people believed the rumors and lies, that she was as deadly as her father and as crazed as Bellatrix Lestrange.

Mrs.Weasley opened the cell door, a tired look on her face and a plate in hand. She gave (y/n) a sad smile as she set it down near the entrance.

“Couldn’t you just give him something to go off of?” Mrs. Weasley pleaded with her. “Anything so you could have a break from it all? You look downright awful, I’m worried for you.”

“What could I give him that he would believe?” (Y/n) asked, slowly grabbing the sandwich from the plate and taking a bite. “After all, I imagine it’s been at least a few weeks if not a month or so? I haven’t uttered a single thing he’s believed, including that his curses and beatings won’t work. I’m used to it, it’s what I’ve been molded to be.”

“What about something small, something that no one knows about, well You-Know-Who?” Mrs. Weasley tries, leaning against the door frame. “From what I’ve gathered he hasn’t exactly been the most caring of-”

“Don’t.” (Y/n) said flatly, meeting the older woman’s eyes. “Truly don’t go there. He cares, just in his own way.”

Mrs. Weasley is quiet after that, unsure as to what to say. She sighs, picking up the plate and turning to leave. Once the door was shut (y/n) sits back against the cold wall, no longer having the appetite for her sandwich.

“He does care. I just don’t know if it’s about me or the results I give him.” she gathers up the blanket, draping it over her legs. “No, he cares about me, what father wouldn’t care about their children? Even Lucius cares about Draco, and he doesn’t care about much else than impressing my father.” (Y/n) sat in the dark, with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company and the occasional bug scurrying across the floor.

This time when the door opened it was someone (y/n) had not seen before. Or rather two someones she hadn’t seen. Both men were tall, one with dark, long curly hair and the other with light brown, short-combed hair. (Y/n) recognized one of them as Sirius Black, the first person to escape Azkaban prison. The other took her a few seconds to place, it wasn’t until the light hit his face, revealing the scars that she knew it was Remus Lupin, a werewolf known to be heavily against her father.

“Well, isn’t this a treat?” She said, slowly getting to her feet. “A blood-traitor and a half-breed? What did I do to have you grace my presence?” Remus flinched at the mention of half-breed.

“I came down here to see who could possibly have Moody stumped,” Sirius growled, stepping in front of Remus ever so slightly. “Imagine my surprise when I see you’re nothing more than another idiot, too stubborn and ignorant for your own good.”

“I’m the idiot?” (Y/n) laughed. “Am I the one torturing the same person the same 20 ways over and over in the hopes something will give? No, I’m the one who is with-standing it because the consequences of giving in are worse than dealing with a little more pain.”

“What could be worse than everything Moody has put you through?” Remus mused. “He’s told us some of what he’s done, none of which we agreed with. The real reason we’re down here is because we took a vote.”

“A vote?” She took a step back, unsure now of the situation she was in. “A vote for what? Who gets first dibs?”

“What?” Sirius looked taken aback, holding up his hands innocently. “No, we took a vote over if Moody should be down here with you anymore.”

“We decided against it. You don’t have to deal with him anymore.” Remus conjured up a lantern and hung it on the ceiling. “From now on we’re just going to talk.”

“So we’ve moved on from physical torture to psychological, understood.” (Y/n)’s shoulder relaxed slightly. “I can handle that too.”

“No, no, no. I think you’re still not understanding.” Remus smiled, looking at Sirius. “That’s all we’re going to do from now on. Sirius has enlightened us on what you’ve probably grown used to growing up.”

“Enlightened? What would he know about any of that?” she sneered, feeling even more vulnerable than before. Somehow talking seemed more daunting than hours of Cruciatous curses and water-boarding.

“You’re forgetting what family I, regrettably, belong to,” Sirius grumbled, shutting the door. “I have a feeling your upbringing was at least somewhat similar to my own, if not worse. Your father seems to pay you the same amount of care my mother gave me, which is to say nothing unless you are their perfect doll.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly be-”

“Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you.” Sirius glared at her, arms crossed. “Besides, you can give everyone else the whole “He cares for me, just in a different way” b.s. like you gave Molly, but it won’t work on me. I tried that too, now I realize how bloody wrong I was.”

“Sirius, we came to talk, not to therapise,” Remus warned, putting his hand on Sirius’s chest. “How about we start small, like cornish pixie small?” he glanced at (y/n) almost asking her for permission.

“Right, apologies.” Sirius took a deep breath. “Let’s just start small, right?” Remus dropped his hand and turned back to (y/n).

“I don’t see what actual choice I have,” (Y/n) sat down on top of her sleeping bag, bringing her knees to her chest. “What’s the rules then?”

“No rules, just talk.” Remus once again said, conjuring up some wooden chairs. “Would you like a chair as well, or are you okay there?”

“I’m fine.” (Y/n) watched as the two men sat down. “So, what would you like to talk about? The weather? To me, it seems the same every day to me.”

“Funny,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “But, to be completely honest I haven’t a clue.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Remus asks. “I prefer blue myself.”

“I like gold a lot,” Sirius mutters, still seemingly uninterested in the conversation. “It’s one of the few colors I can see both in my animagus form and human form.”

“It may seem cliche, but I like green.” (Y/n) admits after sitting in silence for a moment. “Not any green though, I enjoy deep greens, phthalo green is a good one, and so is forest green, and juniper.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about different shades of greens, is there any particular reason?” Sirius asked, sitting up more in his chair.

“Not really, it just comes in handy when it comes to potions and herbology.” she shrugged. The three of them were silent for a moment. “So, did either of you ever, um, I don’t know, did either of you ever find a way to sneak into the headmaster’s quarters? Because I did, plenty of times.”

“And you never tried to kill him for your dad?” Sirius seemed confused. “I feel like if you wanted his approval as bad as you seem to, you would’ve, well you know.”

“Answer my question first and then I’ll answer yours.” (Y/n) responded. “Have either of you snuck into Dumbledore’s quarters?”

“I, well, I tried to once, but not while I was still at the school,” Sirius smiled to himself. “It was after I escaped prison. I snuck into the castle looking for Peter and saw a rat head that way. Turned out to be a normal rat.”

“I never really even thought of the idea. I mean, he’s someone I imagine has a lot of security and spells cast around him to protect him from that sort of thing.” Remus admitted. “Your turn, answer Sirius’s question.”

“No, I never tried to kill him.” (Y/n) smirks. “The idea is quite intriguing though. Could you imagine how funny it’d be, if the daughter of the all and powerful Dark Lord, age 13, manages to murder the one person he fears above all else? Besides I liked school.”

“Why did you sneak in then?” Remus prodded, leaning forwards, studying her as she toyed with her fingers. “If not to kill Dumbledore, why bother?”

“To be completely and totally honest? I wanted to be the best at potions, and Dumbledore just so happened to be very close friends with a certain Nicholas Flammel. In order to be able to make a Philosopher’s Stone one would have to excel in both alchemy and potion-making.” she stood up, leaning against the wall. “He had a portrait of him in there, I would sneak in, ask him a million and one questions about potions, and then by the next time I came back I had tested and confirmed what he told me. I took great joy in Snape watching me get better at his own craft than he was.”

Sirius let out a gruff chuckle, which soon became a hollering laugh. Even Remus couldn’t contain himself, joining in with his own chorus of giggles. (Y/n) didn’t quite understand what was so funny, but watching the two of them laugh as hard as they were made her let out a giggle or two. The three of them talked, just talked for a time.

When the knock came at the door (y/n) stiffened, eyeing Sirius as he opened it. Much to her relief, it was Mrs. Weasley bringing dinner along with a small pillow. Sirius thanked her, taking the food from her arms and holding it out to (y/n), offering it to her. She cautiously took it, careful to not get too close as she retreated to her corner of the cell. Mrs. Weasley smiled and held up the pillow.

“It’s not much, but it’s better than what Alastor was giving you.” The older woman set it next to the door. “Whenever you’re ready for it you can grab it. No rush, dear.”

(Y/n) nodded, whispering a small thank you under her breath as Mrs.Weasley left. The soup and bread she had been given more than filled her up. Remus and Sirius continued talking to one another as she ate, everyone now slightly more comfortable with each other.

“I have to admit, she makes good food. Great food actually, Mrs. Malfoy has never been adept in the kitchen department, nor has anyone she’s hired either.” (Y/n) told them, licking the sides of the bowl as she finished her soup. “And as enjoyable as this has been today, I do have a serious question to pose.”

“What question?” Remus asked, stiffening in his seat. Sirius’s eyes seemed to darken as he looked at her as if he was ready to pounce if needed.

“Well, if I’m not to be tortured or forced to divulge any information, what do you expect to do with me then?” setting down the bowl she met their eyes. “You can’t possibly keep me in here forever, but you also can’t just let me out of here either. Which leaves very little option other than killing me or me somehow escaping and taking as many of you with me as I can.”

The men look both shocked and hurt, perhaps a dash of anger in Sirius’s eyes. Neither of them says a thing as they stand up and walk towards the door. (Y/n) smiles at them, pushing their now empty plate and bowl towards them.

“It’s only a matter of time as to which happens first. Personally, I’ve accepted dying in here. No resources will be wasted on a rescue for me, nor will there be anyone to mourn me. I suggest you make the decision soon before I find a way to slaughter the lot of you in your sleep.” she threatens, meeting Remus’s gaze. “Because you were right, Dumbledore does have plenty of security in his quarters, much more so than the barrier spells that get weaker day by day in here.”

~~{𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘸𝘰}~~

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