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Summary
There is a beauty, an elegance in violence, in the arc of a sharpened blade, the precision of a lethal strike. No wands. No magic. The Killing curse is too cold, too impersonal. With the blade she is close enough to feel the life force drain from the body, close enough to hear the slicing of skin, to taste the blood as it splatters…
Click - open. Click- shut. Click- open…
She watches as the man wets himself, scrambling across the floor of the cell, cowering in the corner like the pathetic sniveling, scumbag that he is and for the first time in years, her smile is genuine. She casually flips the blade in her hand.
“Hello Tiberius. Did you miss me?”
_________This story is an AU. A "What If" for my multi-chapter fic The Secret Keeper.
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