Nicolas recognized the corridor he was in. It was the same one he had taken previously that led him to the room where his wife was kept.
He wanted to increase the pace, run to the wooden door at the end, and get Perenelle. But he could only follow Voldemort patiently.
Patience, Nicolas, he reminded himself. This is your chance. Don't ruin it now. She needs you to be calm. This was it. He was going to get Perenelle out of this hell.
Finally, they reached the wooden door. The barrier that separated him from his wife.
His mind flashed back to the previous visit. The sight of his beloved Perenelle bound by chains. Since that scene, Nicolas found it impossible to sleep. How could he, when he knew the situation his wife was in?
Nicolas couldn't bear to think about what horrors his wife had endured behind that door. The mere thought of her suffering made him clench his fists in frustration.
Voldemort stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled without warmth. "Are you ready to see your precious wife?"
Nicolas swallowed hard, steeling himself for the inevitable. He knew he had no choice but to follow Voldemort's lead.
The door felt like it took an eternity to open.
Then he saw her.
Perenelle lay chained to a rocky bed, her once-glorious hair now matted and unkempt, her skin pale. She was still in the same horror situation that he had previously visited.
There was just one difference in the room.
Apart from his wife, there was a Death Eater inside, standing in a corner. This was the same one that came with Voldemort when they captured Perenelle and used her as a hostage. The same person who transformed from a rat and later performed the Unbreakable Vow.
Ignoring the Death Eater, Nicolas rushed to his wife's side. Tears formed in Nicolas's eyes, his heart breaking at the sight of her suffering.
"Perenelle..." His voice cracked as he fell to his knees beside her. "My love, I'm here. I'm here for you."
Perenelle's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and a weak smile appeared on her lips. "Nicolas," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I knew you would come."
He reached out with trembling hands, gently brushing tangled strands from her face. "It's over now," he said, trying to believe it himself. "I have come to take you home."
She has become much more frail since the last visit.
Nicolas turned around and met Voldemort's gaze, his eyes burning with hatred. "I've upheld my end of the bargain. Now, release my wife."
For the first time since their encounter, Nicolas noticed a rare emotion on Voldemort's face.
No smile, surprise, or rage. Instead, it was sadness.
"Of course," Voldemort said. "Just how disappointing that I had made the unbreakable vow and was not able to indulge in the pleasure of tormenting your dear wife."
Nicolas's blood ran cold at Voldemort's words, his heart pounding with dread. "You will pay for this," he vowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I swear it."
Voldemort's eyes flashed with fury at Nicolas's defiance. "You dare threaten me, you insignificant worm."
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort decided to teach Nicolas a lesson.
Nicolas gasped as he felt an invisible force slam him against the rough stone wall, the breath knocked out of his lungs. Pain shot through his body, his muscles protesting against the impact. He struggled to move, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.
"Everything was going quite fine until now. I was going to release your wife. The two of you would have been back together. But no... You had to threaten me, Nicolas."
Voldemort approached Nicolas slowly. Finally, when he was near, Voldemort pressed his boot into Nicolas's stomach. Agony shot through him as his body bent against the wall.
He knew he had provoked Voldemort; all the built-up emotion had erupted upon seeing his wife's condition.
"N... No!" Perenelle's cry cut through the room, desperate, raw. "Please… stop it, please!"
Voldemort's gaze shifted from Nicolas to Perenelle, a cruel smile spreading across his lips.
"Perhaps I have been too lenient with you," he mused aloud, "It seems I need to remind you exactly who Lord Voldemort is."
He raised his voice.
"Wormtail. Bind him."
Wormtail rushed forward obediently and conjured thick ropes that snaked around Nicolas's body, binding him tightly to the stone wall.
Nicolas struggled against the ropes, his muscles straining against the tight binds. He could feel the rough stone digging into his back. But despite his efforts, he was unable to break free, helpless against the rope that held him captive.
Nicolas knew he had snapped. Why couldn't he just have waited a bit longer?
Nicolas had braced himself for the inevitable torture, steeling his resolve to endure whatever horrors Voldemort had in store for him.
But it never came.
Instead, he saw Voldemort walking away. He watched Voldemort approach his wife and stand next to her.
Upon seeing that evil smile on Voldemort's face, Nicolas's blood ran cold as he realized what Voldemort intended to do.
"No, please, don't," Nicolas pleaded in desperation. "Leave her alone."
Nicolas could only watch helplessly as Voldemort's hand trailed along Penelope's cheek, his touch sending shivers of revulsion down her spine. She recoiled instinctively, but there was nowhere to hide from the dark lord's gaze.
"She must be really a lovely wife to you, Nicolas?" Voldemort questioned as he leaned in close to Penelope, his breath hot against her ear. "Over six hundred years, and both of you are still together."
"Please, Voldemort!" Nicolas's voice broke entirely, tears streaking down his face. "Please. I have made a mistake. Please let her go."
Nicolas remembered the rules of their bargain. "You made the unbreakable vow not to torture my wife even after the creation of the stone. You will die if you continue!"