Chapter: 4. Bitter Chocolate Flowers
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/R for dark situations
Summary: AU. Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.
Other links: Found at OWL
The minotaur roared and the crowd cheered above her. And people said banshees sounded death calls—they’d obviously never been to Voldemort’s summer games, where the cheering of hundreds preceded every death.
“I couldn’t do anything.” He paused outside her cage, voice soft. She longed to touch him, but the pair navigating the maze nearby redoubled her caution. She was already condemned, but not to death. Not yet.
“I know zis, Blaise.” Cheekbones thrust against skin, Veela heritage giving her beauty though she was emaciated. Fleur’s eyes were ancient, sad, and all too human. “I am still sad. For zem, and us.”
Her eyes closed in pain as someone—Pansy? Seamus?—screamed. The briefest touch on her cheek and Blaise, with his sharp cheekbones hidden behind dark skin, was gone, continuing his rounds to the other cages tucked down here.
She sagged against the bars, full of longing and despair. There was nothing but bitter loss here.
She didn’t see him reach into his pocket and finger something, or hear him murmur, “Anything… yet.”