Disclaimer: I do not own the fantastically complex world of Harry Potter. Sadly, I probably never will.
Be warned, readers! This story (especially this first chapter) is rather disturbing in parts, and is not for light hearted. Hopefully you understood that from the summary, but I just wanted to make sure you all knew what you were getting into... Enjoy!
Cornelius Fudge shuddered with pleasure and barely concealed lust as the slap of flesh on flesh and the consequent sound of bone cracking echoed throughout the room. This one had put up a fight- not for long, of course. No one did for long.
Dark hair fell in tangled waves, framing a bruised and beaten face. The discoloration and the blood slowly trickling out of the agape mouth did nothing to distract from the fragile beauty of the figure however. If anything, they amplified it- showcasing the delicate lines and gentle slopes of the attractive face.
The prisoner's jaw was broken by this point- all that came out of those precious lips was a steady stream of blood and the garbled pleading of one who is truly desperate.
The enrobed figure closest to Fudge took a step forward, flipping his sleeve out of the way and revealing a glinting dagger to the little light in the room. Fudge licked his lips in anticipation.
"I think that's enough, don't you 'gents? After all- that pretty little mouth won't be sayin' much else, an' I want to have some fun 'for we have to finish up…"
Wicked grins were the response, and Fudge allowed himself one as well, though he covered it quickly behind his fist as he did have a certain dignity to keep about him at all times.
The girl on the ground whimpered, scuttling away as fast as her twisted legs would allow. The man who had spoken clucked disparagingly at her efforts. "Now, now- that won't do at all."
A scream broke the air eerily- Fudge barely restrained himself from wincing deeply. Blood stained the ground, and the dagger, no longer clean, imbedded itself deeply in the cold cement.
The woman collapsed, though not quite dead. She would be able to feel them take their pleasure in her suffering and broken body. She would be able to attempt at writhing away from their grasping hands. She would be able to feel as the life slowly drained from her body… she would be able to fully lose hope before surrendering, gratefully, to the dark abyss that beckoned her- just another victim.
Fudge watched gleefully as the woman's body finally went limp, the color draining from her sweet face. The man stooping over her groaned in completion and pulled away, smirking at his companions. They grumbled back at him irritably ("Not fair!" "He got the last one too!" "Do we have to do this by lots?")
Macnair stood with shuddering effort. "That's just the way it is, boys."
Fudge straightened from his position leaning against the wall. "Now that I've been entertained- I believe I am ready to see him. If you please…?"
"Of course, Mr. Fudge."
The men simpered and bowed, and then with haste ushered him out the door.
Fudge hadn't been sure when this mystery man, Riddle, had first contacted him. Of course, he'd heard the rumors- who hadn't?
Riddle had been from a well-to-do family when somewhere along the way he'd gone off. Some thought he'd crossed the barely visible line between brilliance and madness when he'd been kidnapped and held for ransom as a teen, while others assumed he'd had a mind for wicked purposes all along. After murdering his family (so the rumors go), Riddle gathered followers. Most were from other wealthy families, and were the children of his parent's former friends. They all united under one central belief: not all people deserved to live. There were useless people in the world only good for taking up air and space, and Riddle gave his followers the means to wipe them out.
They'd been mere bullies at first, beating people into submission who stood in their way and slashing the throats of those who were undeserving of life, but now- now they had the potential for so much more!
Riddle had contacted him about an experimental theory being researched in The Institute of Chemical Solutions, a research facility that just happened to fall under Fudge's jurisdiction within the Ministry just a week ago. Fudge, as head Secretary of Scientific Research, was privy to all the outs and ins of the material. Riddle deemed Fudge to have at least a little worth.
Soon after, an invitation was sent out, appearing unobtrusively within the stack of papers on Fudge's desk one bright and early Monday morning. Riddle, in flattering and admiring language, asked for an audience proceeded by a show that Riddle promised he would enjoy very much. Pleasantly surprised, Fudge agreed and was taken to a dark, dank cellar where a woman was unceremoniously questioned and tortured. That was a little over twenty minutes ago. He had enjoyed the show indeed… though it bothered him a tad bit that Riddle had known his…pleasures.
The men came to an abrupt halt in front of him. His brows furrowed. "Yes? Is there a problem?"
Macnair, apparently elected spokesperson, shrugged within his dark robes. "Riddle is inside, Mr. Fudge. He is waiting for you, but only you can go in."
"Ah." He nodded, pushing past them and brushing back the curtains that hung in the doorway.
The room he entered was dark to the extent that he could only barely make out the blurred shape of his hand reaching out to guide himself. A chuckle sounded as his efforts of maneuvering ended with him stubbing his toe on what felt like the sturdy wood leg of an arm chair.
"Please Mr. Fudge, sit. The chair is in front of you."
Fudge grumbled inwardly, but shuffled around the obstruction and plopped down on its soft cushions.
"I gather you know why I have called you here."
Fudge nodded, and then irritably realized it wasn't visible. He cleared his throat which was suddenly clamping down tensely. "Erm…yes. The micro-bead research, specifically the timed release subjects."
There was something of a smirk in Riddle's voice. "Yes, you are correct."
An awkward silence fell, and Fudge sat on his fingers roughly to keep from fidgeting. "Is there a reason for the lack of lighting?"
"I find it saves me a great deal on my electric bills."
Fudge gaped- surely that wasn't all?! He held back the outrage that threatened to burst out as the sound of cloth sliding against leather announced that Riddle was sliding forward. He imagined he could feel the other man's breath on his cheek.
"Now, Mr. Fudge, will I have your cooperation?"
"Well I- that is…"
"This will involve everything you know on the project we spoke of- research, notes, tests… In return you will receive ties to myself and my followers- the position of Minister will be within reach, Mr. Fudge. I have friends in very high places…"
"Yes, yes." Fudge nearly drooled at the prospect of a cushy position in the Ministry- well cushier than his own was proving. "You have my cooperation."
"Splendid." Fudge could hear the delight in Riddle's voice and shuddered at the sound.