A/N: As usual, I claim no rights to the Harry Potter Universe, and all disclaimers apply. This is my personal backstory for Thorfinn Rowle, and some of the minor Death Eaters. It will feature an OC that has been debuted in my WIP - What Worth A Life. It will be mostly canon compliant. I hope everyone's willing to check it out & give it a chance. Enjoy!

o.o.O.o.o

The Dark Lord was dead. If Thorfinn had doubted the news in the Daily Prophet, he couldn't doubt the greying of the mark against the inside of his left forearm. He traced his fingers over it, feeling a very real thread of fear wrapping around his throat and tightening until he could barely breathe. He was only sixteen, and if anyone found out that he was a marked Death Eater…his whole life would be over in the blink of an eye. No matter that being marked had been his father's idea, and that the Dark Lord scared him shitless…he wore the man's brand on his skin and everyone else who did was being rounded up and thrown into Azkaban.

A crumpled letter from his mother lay on the bed beside him, informing him that his father had been killed resisting arrest. He didn't know how to feel to be honest, he hated the son of a bitch, but he'd still been his father. Gathering himself, and tugging his sleeve down over his arm, Thorfinn took the letter and put it into the warded section of his trunk and grabbed his Defence essay. He needed to at least pretend to get some work done.

To an outsider the Slytherin Common Room would look normal, with groups of students sitting and chatting after a day of classes or at one of many tables studying. To any Slytherin, past or present, the frequent silences and darting glances told a different tale. Everyone was paranoid and trying to decide which way the wind was going to blow next. No one in this room liked uncertainty, they were planners and plotters not impulsive Gryffindors for Merlin's sake.

The one member of their house that didn't seem affected by recent events was Clara Hart, Slytherin's pet mudblood, as they all liked to refer to her. The pretty fifth year student was something of a curiosity for Thorfinn. House solidarity meant that her housemates didn't openly attack her, but her blood status meant that she was a pariah and left well outside the power structure that existed here. Being a Slytherin unfortunately meant that the other houses held her at arm's length as well. As a result, she watched and listened intently to everything. He imagined that she knew all sorts of things about her housemates that they would cringe to acknowledge.

Thorfinn knew that he needed to distance himself from his father's associations, and the little mudblood was perhaps the perfect solution. Was it worth sullying himself with her to secure his freedom? Could he really lower himself to being seen in her company? Surprisingly, the answer was a resounding yes. Decision made, he stood up from his spot on the couch by the fire and walked across the Common Room, sitting down at the little table in the corner where she had been relegated to sitting.

As he sat, the younger witch arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. "Rowle." Her eyes were a startling blue, all the more striking set against her black hair and pale skin. He'd never actually seen her wear anything other than her uniform a couple different casual robes that she owned.

"Hart." He gave her a charming smile.

"Are you lost, or did you perhaps suffered a recent blow to the head?" she asked, suspicion etched clearly on her face.

"Can't a wizard come and talk to a pretty witch?" He grinned at her, loving that she saw right through him.

"Given five years of evidence to the contrary, no," she replied sweetly. "Care to tell me why you're intent on committing social suicide by deigning to sit with the Mudblood? Not afraid I'll contaminate you?" She set down the book she'd been reading, something clearly not on the approved reading list.

"I had a proposal I thought you might find intriguing, something…mutually beneficial." He paid her the respect of being somewhat upfront about it.

"I'm listening," she said.

"You're always listening. I'm sure you hear all kinds of interesting things," Thorfinn said with a sly smile. "I'm offering to bring you into my circle in exchange for information when I need it."

"Information and the clear statement that Thorfinn Rowle has no problem with mudbloods, and is nothing like his murdering, bigoted father," she said shrewdly. "You need to distance yourself from your father, his friends, and the Dark Lord." Clara leaned forward, voice low enough that no one would be able to eavesdrop. To anyone looking on, it would look like she was flirting with the attractive blonde wizard. "You need to make sure no one ever suspects what you let him brand on your forearm." She flicked her gaze down deliberately.

Thorfinn felt a chill go down his spine. "And what makes you think there's anything there?" He asked, leaning in and placing a hand over hers. Everything was orchestrated to look friendly, but he squeezed her hand so hard the bones ground together and his eyes narrowed dangerously. To her credit she didn't react, though he supposed after five years of surviving in the Snake Pit, she would have had to master her expressions.

"You wouldn't be nearly breaking my hand if there wasn't," she said, a hint of triumph in her eyes.

He released his grip and mentally swore. "You played me," he accused.

"Like a perfectly tuned piano, Rowle," she said smugly. "Don't look so injured, I think you like a witch that can run circles around you." She winked and leaned back. "If you want my help with your image, you can take me to Hogsmeade next weekend on a date. In return for information, you'll help me make contacts. I have goals for when I leave Hogwarts, and I need someone like you to smooth my way."

Give and take was the currency of Slytherin House. She might have been forced to the sidelines, but Thorfinn could see that she hadn't been ignorant of the manoeuverings and negotiations going on around her. He felt a little thrill go through him at the idea of just what she could be with his help. "Deal, but if I'm taking you on a date Hart, it's not going to just be for show." He flicked his eyes over her, letting himself see her as a witch and not just a piece to be used and discarded later. She was pretty, and the predatory glint in her eyes was exciting.

"If it's not just for show, you should probably call me Clara then." She grinned.

"You look like the cat that's gotten into the cream, Clara," he said and stood, looking down at her. "You can call me Finn, if you want."

"What time do you want me ready to go, Finn?" She smiled prettily, raising her voice just enough that it would carry to the next table. Her three dormmates sat up a bit straighter at their table as they listened in.

"Be ready at nine," He winked roguishly at her before sauntering back over to his friends.

o.o.O.o.o

"So, you're going to Hogsmeade with Rowle?" Amara Shafiq asked, as they all started getting ready for bed that night.

Clara gave her a look. She could count on one hand the number of times any of her dorm mates had initiated a conversation with her that didn't include them wanting to copy her study notes. "Yes, I'm quite sure all of you heard him asking me." She sat down on her bed.

"Is it like a date, or are you blackmailing him? Either one would be pretty interesting." Amara smirked.

"It's a date." Clara narrowed her eyes. "If I wanted to blackmail someone into dating me, there are a lot more intriguing targets than Thorfinn Rowle." She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry…I had to ask." She held up her hands.

"No, you were just being a bitch," Clara said, grabbing her shower kit and stalking off to the bathroom. There was no love lost between her and her year-mates, and none of them would pass up an opportunity to get a dig in when they could. She undressed and slipped under the shower, scrubbing the day away. The opportunity that was in front of her was both exciting and a little intimidating. She liked knowing where she stood, and usually that answer was securely on the sidelines.

Entering into this deal with Rowle held a lot of uncertainties. His circle was worlds away from hers, and she'd be dependent on him to learn the unwritten rules. She had less than three years to find her footing in this world and then she'd be out on her own. Deep inside she knew that the day she turned 17, she'd walk away from the muggle world forever. She had little holding her there and there were some very real reasons that she stayed at school over the holidays.

Clara sighed and rested her forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall, while the hot water beat on the back of her shoulders. Moments like this she found herself wishing for real friends that she could actually talk to. This was the first time she'd ever been on a date with a boy, and she'd have had to be deaf to not hear stories about his 'conquests'. Sweet Circe, what was she doing? Dating Rowle? She should have just accepted his offer to join his social circle and left it at that.

She finished her shower and dried off, a lot on her mind. Thankfully it was winter, so she could get away with wearing her heavier winter robes and black winter cloak. She brushed her teeth and combed out her hair, lingering to avoid facing Amara, Tammy, and Adelaide. The door to their shared bathroom opened, and she saw Tammy Bentley slip in.

"Hey, I'm sorry Amara was being such a cow," She said, giving her a small smile. "I think it's nice that you're going with Thorfinn."

"Really?" She gave her a suspicious look.

"Yeah, I mean…you're really pretty, and it'd be good for you to date a little," Tammy said. "Just be careful, some of the boys like to take the muggle-borns and half-bloods out because they think we're easy or something."

"If he tries anything, I'll hex his bits off." Clara laughing a little.

"Good, just making sure you know to watch yourself. You need to make the right connections, and you need to take care with your reputation. I know we're not really friends, but witches have to stick together, right?" Tammy said.

"Yeah, thanks Bentley." Clara said.

"Anytime, Hart. Well, not actually anytime, but if you ever really need advice…we can talk," she said awkwardly before heading back to grab her nightly shower.

Clara just ignored Addie and Amara as she went to her bed and pulled the bed curtains shut tightly around her. She laid back on the bed, and knew that Tammy was right. She needed to protect her reputation, because making the right match was vitally important for her. No one worth having would touch her if they thought she was Thorfinn Rowle's leavings. Tomorrow was day one of the new Clara Hart, and she couldn't afford to let herself slip back into obscurity. She'd waited four years for this chance, and she was going to make the most of it.