The violent screams inside my head tormented the past and present state of my mind. I clawed at the knotted black curls in despair as I tried to quiet the chaos in my head. The dementors would surely feast on my thoughts. I must quiet the screams.

The splitting pain throbbed agaisnt the walls of my skull and I drowned in the abandonment I felt crawl to the surface. The very loathsome emotion of love cast aside that I had buried for so many years exploding to the foreground of my mind. I was loved once. I was completely adored once: a treasure more valuable then all of the gold in Gringotts combined. I had his ear, I had his heart. He made me believe and all was well in my world.

A hysterical, maniacal laugh escaped my lips as I flopped to the ground and writhed in imaginative pain. The object of two of the most brilliant and powerful wizards. As inexperienced in matters of love and lust, I could tell that the passion and the pull that drew these two men to me was strong and bordered on uncontrollable. I was relentless and bold my my conquest. I enjoyed the diabolical sense of striking fear and pain into my victims. I had power in my own right and basked in the attention of my suitors. It was my viciousness that attracted them to me, my lack of remorse in every mission, in every matter of work and play, that was a magnet of epic proportions.
I pitted one against the other reveling in the competition for my attention, my affection. It wasn't love for one, but a desire for dominance. He wanted to rule and I allowed myself to submit obligingly to his will. The other was more complex. A sense of being scorched by love once and a desire to feel it once more. It was superficial. I saw that now, but at the time I believed. He was god and made me believe that we were of one mind.

A chill filled the cell as on of the dementors passed and slowed. He sensed the wild joy and deep desperation circling around me. I struggled for control. I rolled onto my back and scooted upon the filthy floor of my prison, digging my nails into the cold earthened floor. Control was the illusion. Control was what I lost when I overheard his request.

Save her, the mudblood, the wife of another? It was preposterous! It was madness! And it ripped what little was left of my heart to shreds.

His mocking laugh and derisive smile toyed with my sanity.

'It was never you. It could never be you.' He had said to me. 'Cold, heartless, harlot,' is what he called me. I crumpled inside like someone discarding an old bit of parchment. For a moment there was nothing but my insides being folding out for all to see. I was vulnerable for the first and last time. I oozed betrayal and sorrow.

I was drenched by the rain and sitting curled up in a ball when he found me. He, the one who wanted me solely to control, surprised me with his sensitivity, his knowledge.
'Why do you yearn for him when his tastes prefer dirty blood? He is not deserving of your talent, your passion, or your loyalty.' His cold, spidery finger traced my tear-stained jaw line. His words caressed over my bruised ego. They wrapped me in his protection. I knew as long as I stayed near him, I would remain strong and useful.

So I waited in isolation. This prison has seen the death of more than one lonely soul but as I wrapped myself in the memory of his touch, his words, I remembered how he saved me from humiliation and self-loathing. I will wait for him to rescue me once again from this dark and desolate place. I was his and he was mine and the memory of the unworthy opponent was smothered almost beyond recognition. Almost, because matters of the heart never forget that first, quiet innocence of unrequited love. The scars, no matter how covered are still tender and I am certainly no exception.

The Unworthy is at Hogwarts still, enjoying the freedom of his trechary. Did his heart shred as mine had the night the Dark Lord discarded his request and murdered the object of his lust? It HAD to be lust for I could never believe that one so brilliant could ever love a mere muggle with much less talent and nobility than I. Did he regret the harsh words spoken between us? Did he...it mattered not. I calmed my shaking as I felt the unfamiliar pangs of love try and succumb my resolve. I must cling to the Dark Lord as I have done in the past, to preserve my sanity and my future.
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