Forever Hold Your Peace

Chapter 19

Forever Hold Your Peace

Today was truly a day of rejoicing.

The fairies circled overhead and sprinkled their pixie-dust atop the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. The dust-enchanted hair began to flourish about, dancing to the melody. A house-elf wrangled the raven locks and tamed them, using magic to weave her mistress' hair into a pattern truly worthy of her grace.

A diamond tiara levitated across the room and found its place atop her crown. The magical creatures attending to this Venus on Earth bowed and sang her praises. This must be the happiest day of your life!

So, why didn't their goddess smile?

The beautiful bride gazed forlornly at her reflection in the mirror. The songs of the nymphs did little to move her spirits. The red puffiness under her eyes was starting to show through her makeup. She reached for the open jar of concealer, dabbed a bit on the tip of her finger and began to apply it under her eyes. As she blended away any evidence of grief, a glimmer drew her attention to her finger. She stopped to regard the jewel. It was without a doubt the finest diamond that money could buy.

The sound of metal clanking on the vanity stole her attention. She picked up the familiar gold ring before it stilled on the countertop. The embedded diamond was miniscule by comparison and obviously came from someone of modest means. Its presence puzzled her; she was sure that she had returned it. She sniffed the air to take in more of an oddly familiar scent and bolted from her seat. The fairies scattered in surprise and retreated behind the chandelier.

"Allie?"

No answer. She looked around and wondered how long he had been watching. The drapes by the window swayed, and she rushed over, probing the area with her hand but finding only empty air.

She regarded the humble ring again. He does everything for a reason. Her thoughts went back to the night that she was proposed to for the first time, and she gasped, "Portkey!" She stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Her mind was empty, yet she found her finger inching closer and closer to the diamond, shaking as it did so.

All she had to do was touch it.

Her faithful house-elf peeked out from behind the potted fern, noting her hesitation. "Mistress should go to him... Mistress was happy with him."

The bride glared, clenching her teeth. "What did you say to me?"

The elf shrunk behind the plant. "Nothing, my Mistress."

...oOo...

Moody paced along the sidewalk across the street from the church. He waited for over an hour but clung to the hope that Druella would Apparate at any moment even as the ivory, horse-drawn carriage pulled up to the entrance.

The bells rang in the steeple, and the doors opened. Cygnus Black descended the stairs with his bride in arm. Family members from both the Rosiers and the Blacks pelted the newlywed couple with rice until they reached the sidewalk. Cygnus held the door open for the blushing Mrs. Black and helped her inside.

Moody would never forget her face as they rode out of sight. She looks... happy.

Moody just stood there even after everyone had cleared out. The buzzing of the streetlamp distracted him as the light flickered on. He blinked, put his hands in his pockets and left. He stared at his feet as he walked the pavement, pondering where it all went wrong and what he could have done differently. He had no mind of the brisk footsteps that approached from behind. A whistle prompted Moody to look over his shoulder.

Pain. The world went black.

Moody forced his eyes open to find himself on his hands and knees; blood dripped from his broken nose to form a puddle between his palms. His teary-eyed vision cleared enough to see the shoes of his attacker. He looked up to see Evan Rosier sneering down at him, brandishing his cane tightly in both hands.

"I've been waiting a long time to do that, Gryffindor. I knew you couldn't resist coming here."

"Evan." Moody snorted and winced from the resulting pain. "Whad a wonderful moment thith muth be for you." He didn't even flinch when Evan swung the cane.

"I always saw through your flim-flam!"

The blow from Evan's cudgel knocked Moody onto his back, but he did nothing to defend himself.

"Fight back, you coward!"

Moody grunted when Evan kicked him. He could feel a bone in his ribs snap.

Evan reared back for another kick. "I bet you thought you could get away with hiding your dirty blood."

Moody caught Evan's foot and threw it off. Cradling his ribs, he forced himself upright. He spat out a wad of blood and mucus so he could speak. "How did you know about that?" His eyes narrowed. "It was you... you told her parents about my Certificate of Heritage."

As Moody stepped closer, Evan ran away and looked back over his shoulder to say, "If you come near my sister again, I'll kill ya!"

Evan was gone. Moody tightened his arms around his sides. After a few painful gasps of air, he was off again.

It was a long walk back to his flat. Moody opened the door and went inside, not bothering to close the door behind him.

His flat was as empty as his soul.

Moody could have healed himself at any time, but his outward pain was the only thing that kept his mind off the pain in his heart. He opened the shutters overlooking his study and sat at his desk. He opened his private journal, turning the pages until he came to one of his unfinished sonnets. He dipped his quill in the inkwell and began to engage in the only thing that might give him solace in this moment. Usually, he found the scratching of the feather-tip across the paper soothing. But this day the words only mocked him.

My goddess, my goddess, why hast thou forsaken me?

Anger curled his lip. Rubbish! He wadded the paper and threw it away.

Moody stared blankly out the window as the sun slid behind the skyline. It was soon dark inside the flat. All was quiet until a closing door and gentle footfalls broke the silence. He would have had occasion to at least turn to see who had intruded upon his domicile...if he had cared, that is.

The smell of jasmine betrayed Druella's identity before she even spoke. "I... saw you at the Oath of Enlistment ceremony. Congratulations."

Moody remained seated in his chair and kept his back to her. "And I saw you coming out of the chapel today. Congratulations to you, too, Mrs. Black."

"Thank you. We're going to Italy for our honeymoon tomorrow..." Druella fidgeted nervously with her fingers as she paced about slowly. "Cygnus is still at the reception, forging political alliances and making financial contacts with Daddy."

"Shouldn't you be there as well?"

"I... wasn't in the mood to play the game, so I excused myself early. I'm expected to await him in our bedchamber..."

Moody's patience for small talk was far past its end. "What are you doing here, Dru?"

"I don't know. I..." She walked around and gasped when the light cast from outside revealed the state of his bloodied face. "Who did this to you?"

"Does it matter?"

Druella left the room, and after a few minutes she came back with a washbowl. She set it atop the desk, took out her wand and slowly sat herself in his lap. She waved the wand over Moody's face, and he flinched when his nose popped back into place. Her gentle fingers brushed aside the hand guarding his ribs. Another wave of her wand set his broken bone back together.

Druella reached for the washcloth and wrung it out in the warm water. She began to clean his face, starting with his teary green eyes, and worked her way slowly down to his chin. By the time she was finished, the water in the washbowl was red.

She placed a hand on either side of his head and gently turned his eyes into hers. They looked upon each other in a manner beyond the intimate...a silent language in which they told each other things that they were forbidden to utter by mouth. Her hands slid down his face and found their way to his shoulders. At her gaze, the buttons on his shirt magically separated. Biting her lip, she opened his shirt and felt along his rippling midsection, spurring its flexion with her sharp nails.

He dared to allow himself to believe, if only for a moment, that she was his: his Druella Moody.

Druella closed her eyes and parted her lips as she leaned in.

Moody turned away, giving Druella his cheek. "I'll have all of you... or none of you."

Druella regarded him with a look that could only be described as disappointment. She rose from him and placed an object on the desk. Moody gazed upon the ring, taking no further notice of Druella as she left the flat. She quietly closed the door behind her.

Moody pocketed the ring and watched Druella disappear down the street from his window. With his wounds healed, he needed another avenue to dull the pain, so he grabbed his coat and stormed out.

It was a long walk, but in his reverie, the time passed so quickly that he might as well have teleported to his destination. Moody opened the rusty metal door and slowly went inside. The stink of smoke greeted his nostrils once again, as well as the strange music. He went straight to the bar, ordered a pint of Guinness and downed it on the spot...it tasted good.

He ordered another pint and made his way with it to the far side of the room on the lookout for an empty table as he navigated his way through the crowded dance floor. He found a chair as far away from the loud band as he could. He set his drink down and noticed the ripples in the liquid, pulsing in time with the heavy bass rhythm of the music. It wasn't long after he settled in that he felt a gentle hand stroke his hair.

"Loverboy. I 'aven't seen you in ages." The lady walked in front of him and waited next to the empty chair. "Are you 'ere doing more research?"

Moody grinned and pulled the chair out for her. "Not tonight."

She giggled as she took her seat. "So, 'ows the 'true love' workin' out for you?"

"Not as well as advertised, I'm afraid."

"Aww. Don't tell me you're bored with her already?"

"It's the other way around, actually. T'would appear that I am the bore."

She rested her chin in her hand and smiled. "I seriously doubt that."

"The truth of the matter is, I don't make enough money for it not to matter."

"And they call me a whore?"

He met her eyes. "I would never call you that."

"You're sweet, but it's not a dirty word." She pursed her lips when she noticed his downward gaze and uncrossed her legs to allow him a better view. "Some women negotiate long-term contracts while with others it's 'pay as you go.' In the end, it's only a business arrangement."

Moody took a sip of the bubbly ale, unwittingly leaving behind a frothy mustache. "Is that what we're doing now? Negotiating?"

"Loverboy, that's all we've ever been doing." She traced her fingertips along his upper lip and took the moisture in her mouth. Her full lips caressed her fingers and suckled every drop. "It's a shame we 'aven't done anything else."

He cleared his throat. "Frankly, I think I've had quite enough of negotiating."

She grimaced, looking slightly annoyed and started to get up. "Well, I'll leave you be, then."

Moody chuckled as he grabbed her arm, pulling her into his lap. "You misunderstand me. I'm saying that I want to take you up on that generous offer for tea... for the night."

She laughed, recalling the occasion, and once again stroked the hair on his head. "I'm certainly willing, but that much tea is expensive, dearie."

Moody took her hand in his. "It doesn't matter; I'm very thirsty."

She felt him slip her something and opened her palm. The ring glistened in the dull light. She regarded the diamond with a weak smile and stored the ring on her finger.

Taking Moody by the hand, she led him though the crowd and up the stairs.

o~o~o~o~o~O~o~o~o~o~o

"Moody?... Oh, Moooody?"

Her moans were replaced by a masculine voice. The smell of her perfume turned into a stench of stale shit. Water splashed his face, and he grimaced as diluted urea washed away her acrid yet slightly sweet taste.

Another splash of cold water brought Moody back to the present. He bolted upright, screamed and slumped back down, exhausted from the effort. A house-elf turned his naked body over; Moody was too weak to protest as the creature went to work scouring off the dried fecal matter encrusted on his skin. The elf rolled him back, and he caught a glimpse of its glazed eyes. The Imperius curse.

Another splash of water rinsed off the grime; brown shit-mud caked the walls. After finishing with Moody, the elf continued to clean the inside of the trunk. Moody's stomach grumbled in disgust, but it was a hollow threat, considering that it was empty.

"Sorry, Mad-Eye. I just couldn't bring myself to watch any more of that." Crouch threw a towel and a change of clothes into the trunk. "Here, I don't want you to catch your death... just yet."

The elf finished in due course, and Moody had enough room to dry off and dress himself, though the task sapped the rest of his strength.

Crouch looked on in satisfaction. "So, how does it feel? Waking up in your own waste, confused, disorientated, your powers depleted." He sneered. "That's just a sample of what I had to endure in Azkaban."

"Really?" Moody looked up at him and smiled broadly. "Good."

"I would prefer to let you sit there in your own filth, but I'm afraid the smell would attract too much attention."

"I can only imagine how unsatisfying that must be for you."

"You have no idea." Crouch took a sip from Moody's hip flask and scowled as his features contorted. "But I must say, this would all be much more pleasant if you would simply bestow upon me the same respect which I have for you." By the time he finished his sentence, the Polyjuice Potion had taken effect.

Somehow, Moody found the strength to laugh. "Come again?" His laughter continued.

Crouch, now the doppelganger, joined in. It was an eerie cachinnation in stereo. "Don't get me wrong, I will kill you when this is all over. But there's no need to be captious just because I got the drop on you."

"Let's get one thing straight, kid. The only thing you got 'the drop' on was a broken, old man."

"No, no, no." Crouch shook his head. "Have you forgotten who my father is? I know your Auror tactics." He levitated another goblet down. "You must have known that after being tortured and starved you would have eventually succumbed to the Imperius curse. So, rather than resist and burn yourself out, you save your strength. Rather than cloud your past, you show me all of it in a blizzard."

The amusement was gone from Moody's face. "Then we seem to have an understanding, don't we?"

"Aye." Crouch stared him down. "Of course, you realize you can't win."

"Bring it on, boy."

"Imperio!"