(Image description: a black and white gif of Magdalena Zalejska. She tilts her head upwards with a scrunched up face and swiftly moves her left arm from her neck downwards to somewhere off screen)

෴ ✵ ෴

No one gives worse birthday presents than Nina's father. To put that statement into prospective, on her twelfth birthday she received a cauldron that ended up in the trash mere minutes after she had obtained it on account of being utterly useless (there was a hole at the bottom); when she turned thirteen he gave her a cluster of books with half the pages torn out (seriously, does her father put forth any effort into gift buying?); on her fourteenth birthday she was gifted a pair of binoculars that she reckons is supposed to do something magical. She tosses this one out before even testing to see what it's meant to be, sure that the sorry excuse for a present will reveal itself as such sooner or later.

But by far the worst offering she's been handed is the Dark Lord waiting for her in her bedroom upon her return from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on her fifteenth birthday. He tells her she's joining his cult, and no she hasn't got a choice.

A year later, Nina is sixteen and she's being given an extra special, super secret task that nobody -- not a single soul save for her father, the Dark Lord, and herself -- can know about. An honor of the highest caliber given that her father is oh so very trusted by the dark wizard. The best part? No refunds. Oh, and she also has to work alongside a spoiled brat, which she cannot stand for the life of her; that's the icing on top of the birthday cake they no longer make. (They haven't attempted to bake one since the fiasco on her ninth birthday in which she accidentally exploded the batter.)

That is how she finds herself sitting outside the muggle DVLA just before closing time, glaring down at her left forearm as she waits to take her driver's test. She's been planning this for months, sneaking out every night, grabbing a cab and watching the muggles' every move. (Her father will be furious when he discovers she's capable of muggle transportation, which, she thinks, is all the more reason to do it.) It's a miracle, given she hasn't got any muggle paper work or anything, but her friend Oscar's parents managed to get them both an appointment. He goes first, leaving her waiting on the curb.

Her stomach is churning, but it has nothing to do with the test (she's got this, she's not worried) and everything to with the nightmare seared onto her skin. Nina has always wanted a tattoo, though she never thought her first one would be this: a mangled, cracked skull with a snake looping around it, tail wedged into the skull's mouth. The Dark Mark, they call it. The symbol of his followers. The insignia for Death Eaters. Those words leave a sour taste in her mouth. Becoming a Death Eater had not been part of Nina's plans. She wonders if the Ministry will still let her become an auror when they discover the Mark. Can she hide it from them? Nina doubts it.

Perhaps, she can still run away, disappear, fake her death, if possible. She'll go to a muggle college, join their police force. Of course, that won't work either. They'll find her -- Him and his followers. He'd kill her before she even properly got the chance to apply to any muggle schools. The very idea, consorting with the lesser, that will get her tortured at the very least. She could risk it, hope He doesn't find out, but she knows He will. There's a rat living in her walls now; the second she bolts he'll go scurrying off to his boss. That's why He put him there. To inform him should the Snapes -- or rather Nina's father, considering Nina doesn't want to be a part of this in the first place -- change their loyalties. Even if the rat doesn't tattle on her, she wouldn't get away with running, not now. She reckons He can spy on them through the Marks. Maybe He even already knows she's here at the DVLA.

That thought sends a shock through her spine. She sits up, eyes darting around the parking lot. There's three different vehicles in three different spaces; the sun rays ripple off the concrete. It's quiet. As far as she can see, there's no one there, but in a world in which one can disappear from sight by any number of means this does not reassure Nina. Not in the slightest.

Her glare returns to the Mark on her arm. "You've ruined everything." She's not sure who she's talking to. The Dark Lord? Her father? Or perhaps she's speaking to the Mark itself? The only thing she knows for sure is her life is no longer her own. From the moment her father let Him into their home, from the second He lowered His wand to her skin, it's all over. Every ambition, every dream she's ever had of becoming an auror and rising through the ranks, of giving the name Slytherin some kind of positive connotation -- that all goes out the window. Now, she's just like every other evil witch and wizard that's come out of her house. She's just another lost cause. A hopeless case.

All because of one god damn tattoo.

Nina drags her nails across her arm, digging them into her skin. She scratches and claws like a wild animal, but she only succeeds in forming a bright, red spot around the Mark. In the end the cursed thing remains, darker than ever now thanks to the scratches. Almost as if it's taunting her. The snake and the skull are laughing at her stupidity. Of course she won't be able to get it off so easily.

Oscar returns a moment later. He's passed. Nina tries to spare a smile or even a clap on the back to show her pride in him, but she hasn't got the energy. Part of her wants to reschedule, to go home, scream into her pillow. But she knows, somehow, if she leaves now, she will never be able to come back. She'll never get her driver's license, and if there's one thing she wants to see before her inevitable demise it's her father's face when she shows him the little plastic card with her name and picture on it -- a picture that doesn't even move, since muggle photos were so odd. Even if she wasn't doing this to see her father seeth, she doesn't want to go home (if she can even call it that anymore) -- she doesn't want to see the rat in the walls, she doesn't want to hear her father drone on and on about how she has to be loyal to Him. She doesn't want to be in the same room as him. Doesn't want another argument. She's running out of stamina to handle those.

That's enough to get her feet working, enough for her to climb into the car with the instructor. It gets her to move the gear shift from P to R, gets her to back out of the parking space. She moves the stick to D, and drives off. They go around the block, Nina checking her mirrors every now and again, glancing at the street signs to observe the speed limits. She stops when the signs tell her to do so, looks both ways before making a turn. Driving isn't so hard. It's actually quite fun. She can see why this is the muggles' preferred method of transportation.

Nina passes her test with flying colors. She and Oscar go to the little dinner down the road from his school. It's nothing fancy; in fact, she's not quite sure how the muggle health department hasn't shut the place down yet. There's black mold on the ceiling, the tiles on the floor are sticking up, and the stalls in the bathrooms don't shut all the way, never mind how disgusting the toilets are. Neither of the two teens would ever dare order anything from the dinner's menu, unsure how decent the food could actually be (they just sit in a booth for hours on end). But the place holds value in their hearts -- it's where they first met after all.

"I still can't believe I passed on the first go!" Oscar grins, holding up his new license proudly. "My parents are going to be stoked! I bet they'll take me to the car dealership this weekend. Doubt we'll get a new one, but a used one works just fine. Then, it'll just be you, me, and the open road!" He slinks one arm around Nina's shoulders, sweeping his other out towards the skyline in a dramatized manner. He doesn't stop grinning.

Nina can't help doing the same, and for a moment she forgets about Him and His stupid task for her. "We can run away together," she says. And given the circumstances there's nothing she wants more. "Head all the way to New York, get on Broadway."

Oscar gives her a look. "I'll be honest, I can't really see you performing."

"Why not? I think I'm a brilliant actress. I've pretended to put up with you this long haven't I?"

He places a hand over his heart, screwing up his face. "Oh! That hurt! And to think, I was here under the impression we were proper friends."

Nina gives a soft chuckle, shoving him off of her. He's such an idiot. She loves him for that.

They spend the rest of the evening laughing and joking around with one another. They spend so long at the diner that they eventually get kicked out for loitering; so they vacay and move to the old abandoned park down the road with the broken swing and overgrown shrubs. No one ever takes their kids there, because it's trash so the teenagers have taken it over for themselves. Naturally, it's become vandalized with graffiti all over the monkey bars.

Nina and Oscar spend the rest of the day here, and they stay long after the sun goes down and the shadows take over. Both day dream of where they'd like to go when Oscar gets his car (they already know Nina's father won't get her one). They get lost in their fantasies; at least, Nina does. The mall, the beach, the city... All the places Nina will never get to go, the places she'll never see. All because of a goddamn tattoo. It's robbed her of the chance to actually use this driver's license. Such a waste.

"Oh!" Oscar is jumping up from his place on the curb as his eyes catch sight of the time on his watch. "It's 12:40. That's well past your curfew. And way past mine."

Nina scoffs. "What are you, my father?" Oscar is suppose to be home by nine, but his family won't be too mad. Well, his gran might be (but that's just because she's a Holocaust survivor and she gets paranoid about something happening to her grandson).

Nina on the other hand is allowed to stay out as long as she likes, so long as she stays away from the muggles and gets back in by midnight. Looks like she's breaking both those rules tonight. Part of her wonders if she should transfigure herself a pumpkin carriage to give herself even more of a Cinderella-esque vibe. The thought makes her snigger to herself, if only she can share those sort of jokes with Oscar...

"Yeah," Oscar rolls his eyes back at her. "Real funny. But really, we'd better get you home if we -- and by we I mean I -- don't want to be murdered by your father. Or my gran for that matter."

"Your gran is lovely," Nina tells him. She's met her a few times before, and she has never been anything less than a sweet old lady.

"Well, you never seen her when she gets worried," Oscar insists. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to find she's put a tracking device on me." Nina laughs. "No, really. I wouldn't put it past her. But your dad is the scarier of the two so..."

Nina grunts, but she doesn't move. What's so wrong about wanting a few extra moments with the one person in this damn town she actually cares for? Just a few extra moments with her best friend before her life went down the drain, that's all she asks. "His bark is worse than his bite, trust me."

Oscar raises an eyebrow at her; in the moonlight he almost looks like a perfect angel. An angel and a demon, that's the two of them. What an odd pair. "Didn't you say he tossed the last boy who fancied you out of a window?"

Nina pauses. She remembers that incident well. The boy in question was her ex boyfriend and one of her house mates (and, incidentally, the rat's son). Her father had happened upon the two of them and -- well, Magnus Pettigrew is a dramatic asshole. He'd jumped out the window when her father questioned whether or not he was right for his daughter. Luckily, they'd been on the castle's first floor, so the fall was almost meaningless. It did little to prove anything to her father either, but she supposes the gesture was nice.

Nina might have exaggerated the story when retelling it to Oscar.

"I made it sound worse than it was, alright? But even so, he legally isn't allowed to touch people like you. It's against the law."

At least, for now, it is.

Oscar frowns. "What's that mean? 'People like you?"

Fuck. Nina catches her mistake too late. Sometimes, she gets so comfortable with the boy she forgets their from two different worlds. He doesn't know he's a muggle, that she's a witch, and he has no way of knowing about the International Statute of Secrecy -- that's the whole point of the stupid law, isn't it? This isn't the first time her tongue has betrayed her either; just last week she almost gave herself away in telling Oscar about her upcoming trip to Diagon Alley, almost inviting him to tag along. And, when she'd been forced into the cult, he was the first person she ran to for comfort, very nearly spilling her guts to him. It's infuriating. Why can't she just share the things she wants with those she wants to share them with?

"Uh, you know, teenagers?" Nina says. It's lame. She knows it is, but it's the best she can come up with on the spur of the moment. A good lie takes time.

"You're a teenager, too," Oscar says.

"I'm old at heart."

He rolls his eyes, but he seems to buy it. Nina breathes easy. She gets the feeling next time won't be so easy to back out of; she'll have to be more careful with her words from now on. Not that they'll be able to talk for much longer anyway.

His smile is kinder than she deserves; his eyes are light. This boy has no idea what's coming, what she's going to be apart of. She wants to warn him, to tell him to get his family and run away before trouble hits, but at the same time she's glad he doesn't know. He's so innocent, too innocent. Oscar doesn't need to be mixed up in her mess.

He holds a hand out to her. "Let's not tempt fate, yeah?"

Nina folds her arms over herself stubbornly. She's acting like a child, she knows, but she doesn't want to go home -- if it can even be called that anymore. It hasn't felt much like it in a while, even before He came into her life. "I am not scared of my father."

"No? Well, I am. So, let's go." He stoops over, still holding out a hand. That soft grin stretched onto his lips, his eyes dancing in the moonlight in a way that makes her heart clench in her chest. She knows, then, in the back of her mind, this is the last time she's going to see him this way. Happy, care free. She makes to memorize everything -- the angelic features, the kind smile, the soft eyes, the innocence... before it fades away, before it's gone forever.

"Fine." Her voice is hoarse, and her heart aches. She doesn't want to move, she wants to stay there, on that park's curb with her friend until the end of time. She'd give anything, anything if it meant she didn't have to go back, if this moment didn't have to end. But of course, there is no choice. Time goes on, and this moment, like every other piece of her innocence, will soon cease to exist. It takes all her will power to force herself to take his hand, to let him lift her to her feet. To go home -- if that house can still be called home.

෴ ✵ ෴

"Your dad's waiting up. Don't use the front door!"

On a good night, Nina would have been able to sneak in and out of the house no problem, but ever since they got the rat it's been becoming something of a difficult feat. He tattles on her to her father when she comes in late; it's for this reason she shouldn't have been so surprised to find her father laying in wait. Luckily, the rat's off spring were also staying with the Snapes.

It's a small house that hardly accommodates Nina and her father alone, nevermind three more people added on top of that; naturally they place has gotten a bit stuffy (hence Nina's ever growing need to get out of there).

Even so, the Pettigrew twins had become something of a salvation for Nina over that summer. Matilda has frequent jokes about their fathers co-parenting (which is only funny given that they, apparently, have some sort of history together). Meanwhile, Magnus had gotten them all cell phones (Nina doesn't ask where he's commandeered them from, as she's learned it's better not to), which they use to help the others sneak about (Magnus likes to wander the streets at any given hour because he hates being stationary, and Matilda likes to meet up with her girlfriend) without either of their fathers finding out.

Without the twins (and without Oscar) Nina might have already pitched herself off a bridge at this point.

The lights flick on in the house before Nina can move, and the front door swings open. "Damn," she curses into the phone's  receiver. "Too late. Start planning my funeral."

"What kind of flowers do you want on your coffin?" Magnus' voice is heard.

"Dead lillies. And I want a Tim Burton marathon."

"You got it, Nina!" He hangs up before she can correct his pronunciation of her name. Magnus, she suspects on purpose, always gets her name wrong. Saying it like NEE-NUH, when it should be NINE-UH. Annoying prick.

Nina's father is standing at the center of the doorway, wearing a frown of displeasure. Nina narrows her eyes at him. "What, were you waiting for me in the dark? That's a little weird, even for you, Dad."

He ignores her comment as she pushes past him to get into the house. "Where were you?"

"Out." This is not the answer he wants, but she can't bring herself to care what he wants anymore. He lets the door slam and follows her inside. They glare at each other as she crosses the room to the stairs, tossing her jacket over the banister carelessly. Her father will make the rat get it later, so what does she care?

"With the muggles," her father guesses, his eyes flickering to the jacket. Witches aren't meant to wear clothes like that -- they have robes and cloaks -- but Nina finds muggle clothes much more comfortable.

"None of your business who I was with," Nina snaps.

He seems to take this as confirmation and narrows his eyes further. For a moment, neither say a word, and Nina figures her father is trying very hard not to shout at her again. Perhaps, it's just the fact that he knows the rat is listening through the walls. He's always listening, it seems. He's a noisy bastard. Nina supposes his kids get their tact from him. She knows they must be listening from upstairs too; they love drama. "You are not to fraternize --"

"God, you make it sound like I'm planning on marrying one of them!" Nina scoffs. She knows it'll be better, at least, it'd end the conversation sooner if she keeps her mouth shut, but she can't help it. She is so tired of hearing this 'muggles are trash' speech. "I know, alright? I get it. They're awful and beneath us, but you know it might be easier to avoid them if we didn't -- oh, I dunno -- live in a town full of them!"

"Watch your tongue, Nina!" her father hisses.

"Fuck off, Dad."

Nina has a knack for saying the wrong thing. Her father is livid, she sees it in his eyes. She knows, had she been anyone else, she'd already be on her knees begging for mercy, perhaps even writhing in pain from the cruciatus curse, who knows? He won't do anything of the sort to her. They both know this; perhaps, this is why she so often gets away with pushing him so far. "You are grounded."

The laugh that escapes Nina's lips at this is anything but humorous. It's cold. But, honestly, grounded? What is she four? "Don't treat me like I'm some insolent child!"

"Then, stop acting like one!" her father shoots back. She glares at him. "You are grounded. You will stay in your room for the remainder of the summer. You will only leave for the restroom, food, and drink. Your discipline will end the day you leave on the Hogwarts Express."

Nina huffs. "And how am I supposed to get my school supplies in Diagon Alley if I can't leave my room until the end of summer?"

"Perhaps, you should have thought of that before sneaking out to see muggle boys," her father says coldly.

"You're joking! Now, I can't even get prepared for school?" What the hell is wrong with her father? She's going to fail all her classes if she doesn't at least get her books! He's treating her like one of those Gryffindor students he loathes so much. It's not fair! He doesn't relent, though, no matter how hard she glares at him. "I wasn't even with the muggles!" It's a terrible lie, and they both know it. Her father is skilled in legilimency (not that he could use it too much on her anyway, since she had made him teach her occlumency). There's no pulling the wool over his eyes. So, he doesn't bother dignifying it with a response.

"This is so fucking stupid." Nina stomps up the stairs, grumbling to herself the whole time. She's halfway up the stairs when a knock at the door gives her pause. Her father seems surprised, too, but to be fair it's nearing two in the morning by now. They shouldn't be having company. After a moment, her father sweeps over to answer it, Nina glaring at his back. "Narcissa, what a pleasant surprise!" Whatever remaining agitation he has at his daughter is hidden well.

Her father moves to the side, allowing the light from inside the house to leak out onto their front lawn, revealing two women in dark cloaks. One of them is too pale to be considered healthy, white hair sweeping down her back, silver eyes cutting right to the bone. She might be pretty for a drowned person. The other has heavily-lidded eyes and a strong jaw; her hair is wild -- though Nina can never decide if that's because it's unkempt or just naturally that curly. Either way she looks like she belongs in St. Mungo's psych ward. Nina's met them both a handful of times, the blonde more so than the other one. She's Narcissa Malfoy -- the mother of her soon to be partner in crime. The other woman is his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange.

Fantastic, more Death Eaters.

"Severus," Narcissa says to Nina's father. "May I speak to you?" Yeah, sure, because it's not two o'clock in the bloody morning! What normal person is even awake at this hour? "It's urgent."

"But of course." Her father lets them in.

Lestrange holds her nose high as she passes Nina's father into their sitting room. "Snape." Nina doesn't care for the woman, but at least she knows there's someone who dislikes her father as much as she does.

"Bellatrix," Nina's father says in mock politeness.

Narcissa sits on the sofa, hands in her lap. Her sister stands behind her, glaring at Nina's father. Nina grunts, shaking her head from her place on the stairs. "You are the worst father." Until that moment, neither of the women seemed to have noticed she's there. She's running up the rest of the stairs before they turn to face her, though, and Nina doesn't look back to see her father's reaction to this. When she reaches her room, she takes great care to slam the door behind her as hard as she can. The rest of her night is spent drowning out their Death Eater talk by blaring her stereo -- all muggle music, just to spite her father. Well, if she's going to spend the rest of her summer confined in her bedroom, she might as well do it comfortably.