"Crucio!" Mother yelled, laughing at my attempts to choke back a scream as I writhed on the floor, my body feeling like it was burning. She increased the intensity of her curse, enjoying the power she had over me, waiting for the screams.

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not-

Mother sent yet more Dark Magic through her arm and into her wand, catching me off-guard; the pain became almost unbearable, and I couldn't help the scream that escaped me.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it, Ivory?"

Her low, dangerous voice was the last thing I heard before everything turned black.

***

By the time I'd regained consciousness, Mother had left. I cautiously pushed myself into a sitting position in the corner of my 'room' - well, I say 'room'... really, it was the smallest dungeon cell in the basement of Malfoy Manor. Not for the first time, the cold, harsh truth of my life at the manor brought forwards a mix of emotions that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and that shouldn't even have been there in the first place. Emotions were a weakness; I knew that much.

I looked around my 'room', and those emotions only got stronger. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the cell were made of stone, and a hole with bars over it served as a window. The heavy metal door, which had almost always been locked when I was younger, now stood slightly ajar, teasing me with a freedom I knew I wouldn't find. I'd learned long ago to stay in my 'room' unless I was told otherwise; leaving without permission would only lead to pain.

I winced as a sudden burst of power and pain ran through my body - an aftershock from the frequent torture Mother put me through. I was more than used to these aftershocks by now, but they often made me think about just how messed up my life was. This time was no different.

Why was I born if all I'd know is hatred and pain? If Father didn't - doesn't - want me, then surely he would've killed me by now...

It was a fate I'd tried desperately to avoid for as long I could remember, but one I still somewhat yearned for almost every day.

I wished for the millionth time that I was allowed to go to Hogwarts. I was thirteen, and a witch, but Father had refused to let me go when my letter had arrived a few weeks before my eleventh birthday. I knew why - it was full of so-called Mudbloods and blood-traitors. I didn't see what could be so bad about them; after all, they were still witches and wizards, despite their heritage or beliefs. Not that I'd say so out loud, of course.

A high voice interrupted my thoughts, and I flinched as I realised Nagini, Father's snake, had entered my cell. It wasn't that I was scared of her - just of the fact her presence meant trouble for me.

"Master wishes to see you."

I nodded and stood up, feeling as though a pit had opened up in my stomach, before quickly following her up the stairs and into the Death Eaters' meeting room, my mind racing to work out what was going to happen. Knowing Father, it could be almost anything.

"Yes, Father?" I asked, trying to avoid eye contact with the Death Eaters that were stood around the room. I knew this meant they'd just finished a meeting, and dreaded to think what they could've been discussing that had made Father summon me so soon afterwards.

"It has come to my attention, Ivory-" he let a pause linger for just longer than was comfortable - "that you have been skipping your lessons with your tutor."

An unnatural pressure appeared on my chest, and I struggled to keep my breathing normal. I would not show fear. I would not show weakness.

"I can explain-"

"Silence."

I fell silent at once, well aware of what he could do if he got too angry. The pressure on my chest increased as I kept my terrified eyes on the yew wand in his hand. I had learned to fear that wand; it had tortured and murdered hundreds, if not thousands, of witches and wizards, many in front of my eyes.

"As a punishment," he continued, "you are not allowed any food for a week. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father," I said softly, sure there would be something else as well. I was so used to going without food that it hardly seemed like a punishment anymore.

"Go. Bella will see you tomorrow about some extra... tutoring."

A few of the Death Eaters chuckled at these words, but one look from my father silenced them immediately.

I turned and walked away, wondering in terror what Mother's 'extra tutoring' would be. From the reaction of the Death Eaters, it couldn't be anything good. All sorts of memories flashed through my head, reminding me of past punishments, and the pain they'd brought with them. I felt certain I'd be feeling that pain again tomorrow.

The walk from the meeting room to my 'room' took significantly longer than it had done in the other direction, as I tried to think of a plausible excuse for me not to return to it at all, and instead go somewhere - anywhere - else.

I could set fire to the manor and use the chaos to escape.

The thought took me by complete surprise, and I violently shook my head to get it out. Setting a fire would mean freedom, but it would also make me as bad as Mother and Father. Just because you can start fires, doesn't mean you should. Besides, I would hardly be able to survive out there for long. Father would send the Death Eaters after me, and most other witches and wizards would love to hand me over to the Ministry of Magic - not to mention my lack of practical knowledge of what I called the 'outside world'. The only time I'd ever left the Manor's grounds was when I'd gone to get my apparition licence. At the time, I was technically seven years too young to have one, but that's what happens when your father is Lord Voldemort, and your mother is Bellatrix Lestrange - you get things you shouldn't have.

Even on that trip, I'd been heavily 'guarded' by seven or eight Death Eaters who weren't wanted by the Ministry. Everyone had been ridiculously paranoid that I, a ten-year-old without a wand, would somehow be able to escape the three Death Eaters that were originally going to go with me, so more and more kept being added until they were sure I couldn't try anything. I remember thinking at the time that it was utterly pointless - I'd been raised to be completely obedient to Father, and that upbringing had a big influence on my decision-making.

Sure, there were things I was perfectly able to refuse - getting the Dark Mark and becoming one of them, for example - but those were different. Every time one of Father's orders was easy to refuse, it was because I felt like I'd made a promise to an unknown someone to refuse that order. I hadn't, of course - the first and only person who'd cared about me hadn't joined the Death Eaters until a few years ago, and this 'promise' feeling had been going on for as long as I could remember - but it still felt like that. Sometimes, I wondered if it was perhaps some sort of otherworldly being looking out for me, trying to keep me from harm.

If it was, they were doing a pretty terrible job.