The Heir Of Voldemort

By Fyre

Chapter 6: The Desperation

One year later - "Order of the Phoenix."

It was as dark as ever, the jet-black stone of the walls only covered here and there with green and silver banners marked with a serpent.

At regular intervals along the floor, black steel torch stands stood, flames flickering and reflecting of the black stone around them. They cast eerie shadows over the circle of cowled men and women standing before a throne.

"What news?" The Inner Circle of Death Eaters was once again assembled before Lord Voldemort, backed by the younger generations. His scarlet gaze scanned over each of them, challenging any of them to step forward. "Well?"

"We have found no sign of her, my Lord."

Snape, his lips pressed together in a tight line, almost smirked at the fear in Lucius Malfoy's voice.

It was seen as the notorious wizard's fault that Bones had vanished in the first place and that was something which he had been regularly punished for since their Master had returned.

After the Hell Malfoy had put Snape through, this was initially one of the few people that Snape could bear seeing under the cruciatus curse, receiving a strange catharsis from the man's screams at first.

However, the number of times that the curse had been placed on Malfoy in recent days, since Voldemort's return barely two months earlier, was beginning to unnerve Snape. He was no longer able to watch it, unable to tolerate the screams.

Voldemort's wand came up in a swift, flowing motion and he breathed a single word. "Crucio."

Malfoy was on the floor before the Dark Lord's throne instantly, writhing in agony and shrieking for mercy in a heartbeat, while Voldemort cheerily swept his wand from side to side.

"You know that this all for your own good, you know, Lucius." He drawled. "I left one possession of mine for you to protect and shelter. You were terribly clumsy and misplaced her, which I find very disappointing...yes, disappointing..."

Bile rose in Snape's throat as Malfoy's screams grew more high-pitched in intensity and he started making gargling sounds, usually a sign that a blood vessel had burst from the sheer effort of screaming.

There was a swishing sound as Voldemort broke of the spell and sudden silence, but for the gasping of Malfoy.

A slighter figure from further back the ranks of lesser Death Eaters hurried forward and started to lever the fallen Malfoy to his feet, to aid him back to his place in the circle, but Voldemort raised a hand.

"Return to your place, boy." His voice was low.

"But..."

"Draco." Malfoy gasped, shakily standing on his own two feet. "Obey our Master."

The slight form of Malfoy Junior shot a venomous look at Voldemort from beneath the hood of his cloak, which could only be interpreted as anger.

Voldemort chuckled, fingering his wand lazily. "He certainly has spirit, Lucius." He remarked softly. "Be sure he learns when it is fitting to use it." His expression turned cold. "It may get him in trouble."

"He-he will learn, my Lord." Swaying on his feet, Malfoy staggered forward unsteadily, kneeling to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes. "I will teach him loyalty to you, our master..."

"See that he learns, Lucius, and does so quickly. I would hate to be forced to make an example of him." The wand seemed to vanish between the Dark Lord's long, white fingers. "But now, you will continue to seek out my Heir." Scarlet eyes flicked around the room. "I grow impatient."

Hushed murmurs of "Yes, my Lord." passed around the room, before the group used the hidden doorway in one of the walls to exit to the chosen Death Eater's abode, where Voldemort's 'home' was concealed for several days.

***

"But the spell!"

Ethan took Cassandra's small hands between his gently. "I know, Cassie, but this is You-Know-Who. He'll use any means possible to find you and Alexander." Brown eyes stared up at him as if he had betrayed her. "I knew I said it would be foolproof, but I didn't count on how fanatical he would be about it."

Cassandra shook her head stubbornly, her face screwed up with a combination of anger, fear and misery. "But he can't, Ethan...can't find us...we're on a Hellmouth... and the spell..."

"Luv, I wish it was that simple, but he has people in the Ministry and they know people who aren't afraid to use demon and muggle sources..."

Cassandra jerked her hands free from his, standing up and stalking away from the bench. Several feet down the path, she swung around, the moonlight reflecting on the tears on her cheeks.

"And what am I supposed to do?" She demanded shrilly. "Wait for him to get here, find us, somehow, and take my little boy?"

"He might not..."

"But he might." She finished for him, hugging herself tightly, as Ethan got to his feet and slowly approached her. Turning her back, she tried to smother a quiet sob. "I-I trusted you, Ethan."

His hands came down on her shoulders gently. "Cass..."

In a heartbeat, she was in his arms, sobbing bitterly. "They can't take Alex to his father, Ethan." She wept. "They can't...he'd be...they'd kill him right away...he's more muggle than wizard..."

"Unless I told him who he was and gave him his powers, so he could fight..."

"No! I won't let that happen! I..." Cassandra paused, one hand raised to prevent Ethan from arguing. "What was that?"

A growl from nearby made them turn slightly and Ethan groaned. "Now I remember why its not a good idea to have private meetings in a cemetery in the middle of Sunnydale." With a gesture, a shard of wood snapped off the bench and lodged in the vampire's chest. "There's always a gate-crasher."

The vampire exploded in a cloud of dust.

"So, luv, what were you saying?"

"Duck!" A blast from her wand knocked a vampire's head off and it dissolved into dust. Her eyes scanned around and she slipped her wand away. "Any chance we can take this elsewhere?"

"Somewhere without the undead spying on us?" Grasping her hand, he made a sweeping gesture with his other hand and the air blurred around them.

Cassandra took in their change of location. "Um...I didn't mean on the roof of the house, but if you think this'll work..." Ethan gave her a small smile, that she always remembered from school. "So...Alex isn't going to get his powers."

"It's a choice of that or...well, I don't think you'd want to do the other one..."

"Try me."

Ethan studied her face. "You go to Voldemort and tell him to leave off until Alex is older and in full control of his powers." As he expected, she blanched at the thought of it, shivering violently. "Cass, do you want him to steal Alex by force?"

"I don't want him to get my baby ever." Her voice was trembling.

"He's not going to and you know it, Cass." Ethan slid an arm around her shoulder and hugged her to his side, resting his chin on the top of her head. "But if you're going to outwit a Dark Lord, you're going to have to do something terrible...you have to tell fibs to him."

Despite the severity of the situation, Cassandra couldn't help giggling, snuggling against her long-term friend and lover's side. However, she sobered quickly. "Ethan, I-I don't think I could face him..."

"You could lie to him, though?"

"He thought that I was pleased to be carrying his child last time he saw me." She said softly, without further elaboration.

Pressing a kiss to her brow, Ethan stroked her hair gently. "You're one helluva actress, luv." He said softly. "How you could even be brave enough to look at him, let alone..." He shook his head wonderingly. "You're amazing."

"And terrified." She admitted. "I...I hoped he was dead, just so I wouldn't have to see him again."

His cheek pressed against her thick hair, Ethan pondered for a few minutes, then remarked. "I do have an idea, luv," He said. "And if we play our cards right, he won't bother us again, if Dumbledore and his pack manage to do what they're planning before Alex turns eighteen."

"Why eighteen?"

Turning her face to his, Ethan smiled. "Just trust me on this Cass."

"I think I can manage that." She smiled faintly, before meeting his lips with hers.

***

"What news?"

A visible shudder rippled around the circle of Death Eaters.

Every gathering had begun with those words since Voldemort had returned and no news had yet been found of the location of the Heir of the Dark Lord, or the mother of the child herself.

On the edge of one of the circles, the Death Eaters studied the floor, as if fascinated by it. The less one said at these meetings, the less chance you stood of being blasted with the cruciatus curse.

"Master, perhaps she is..."

"We are not here to speculate, Avery." Voldemort said quietly, his hands curled around the arms of his throne. "And, as you discovered, she was rather adept at taking care of herself, was she not?"

The flush of humiliation from the Death Eater was almost palpable.

Before little Bones had been found to be pregnant with the Heir, Avery had tried to press his luck with her. He had not been able to walk for days and that was before he had been punished for touching the Dark Lord's concubine.

"So you wish us to continue searching?" Malfoy's voice pre-empted Voldemort's next words.

"I want her found. I don't care if she has hexed herself." Voldemort's soft voice had grown harsh. "No more excuses. She is to be brought to me immediately. I will brook no more disappointment from you."

"Ah, what it is to feel missed." A female voice spoke from the back of the group of younger Death Eaters. Voldemort rose to his feet, trying not to show his anger at the violation of his sanctuary.

"Who dares to speak?" He hissed.

The crowd of teenage dark wizards parted, revealing a slight cloaked figure leaning against the wall, casually filing her nails. Her face was hidden by a cowl, but - as the crowd dispersed around her - she straightened up and pushed the hood back.

"Good evening." Cassandra Bones said calmly, a small, enigmatic smile on her lips.

Those of the Inner Circle who recognised her simply stared at her in astonishment, while Voldemort stepped down from the small dais upon which his throne stood, his robes rustling.

"You." Voldemort was staring at her with something akin to religious fervour.

Pushing off from the wall, Cassandra approached the Dark Lord, sinking gracefully down on her knees and lifting the hem of his robes to her lips. Brown eyes rose to him and he extended a spidery hand down to her.

"My Lord." Drawn to her feet by the Dark Wizard, she bowed her head. "Forgive my late arrival." Her eyes flicked to the circle of Death Eaters. "I could find no one to inform me of your whereabouts."

"You have come alone?" There was a suggestion of anger in his eyes.

She raised those dark eyes to his. "My Lord, I come to beg your favour." He inclined his head for her to continue. "For fourteen years, I have raised and protected your son from the Ministry and those who would harm him. I come to beg that you allow me to continue to conceal him, until he is of age and strong enough to fight for himself with both magic and physical power."

"I would educate and protect him."

"My Lord, I am aware of this," She dropped to her knees again. "But understand that I have concealed him for so long already. Regain your empire, quash your enemies, and when you rule this world with none who would destroy your Heir, I will bring your son to you."

Voldemort seemed torn.

Part of him clearly desired his Heir, to train in the ways of dark magic, but a great deal of what the mother was saying made sense. Better for the boy to come to a powerful empire, than to falter and be lost before that empire was secured.

"Of course." He said softly, drawing her to her feet again. His white fingertip tilted her chin up and he bestowed a smile on her. "It is comforting to find you and he are both living."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"You will stay for a short time?" It was said as a question, but everyone in the room knew it was an order.

Brown eyes dipped down humbly. "If...if that is what you wish, my Lord, but I must return to your son..."

"Nevertheless, you will return to him, when I have finished with you." A trace of Voldemort's usual menace had returned to his voice. She stared back at him and didn't recoil as he touched his lips to hers.

Scarlet eyes closed, but her brown ones remained open, disgust etched there. His fingers wove through her mass of gold hair and he deepened the kiss, the witch unable to fight his touch.

The Death Eaters quickly dispersed, one remaining a few seconds longer to shoot a bewildered black-eyed look at the Dark Lord and his Dark Lady, as the woman's robes dropped from her body to the floor.

With a shudder of distaste, Snape disapparated with a pop.

***

Seated on the edge of the sumptuously decked bed, Cassandra Bones replaced her shoes upon her feet, then stood up, smoothing her trousers. She turned, looking down at the Dark Lord, who was asleep in the bed.

It was strange to see him like that.

Peacefully sleeping, he almost looked...normal.

Her fingers twitched to use her wand, but she knew that the wands of almost every Death Eater were neutralised as soon as they crossed into Voldemort's domain, lest someone try to attack him.

Physical attack was also pointless.

Even if she had been armed with more muggle-esque weapons, he would probably have woken and subdued her long before she could do much damage with her small, daintier form.

Sighing, she crossed the floor to pick up her black cloak and swung it around her thin shoulders, her back to the bed as she painstakingly fastened the bronze clasp at her throat.

A gasp of fright escaped her as bone-thin hands came down on her shoulders. "Did I give you leave to depart?" His voice was a low hiss, his breath cold against her neck and she shuddered.

"You...you were sleeping. I-I did not want to disturb you." She tilted her head slightly to look up at him.

"Very well." He traced a cool fingertip down her cheek, a slow smile reaching his lips. "I trust you will keep me informed of my son's progress." Cassandra nodded immediately, shivering. "I will await your correspondences."

Bowing her head, she turned to him. "May I leave now, my Lord?"

"Yes." Sweeping to one side, he allowed her access to the door. "Do not forget, child, I wish to be informed."

Nodding, Cassandra bowed her head once more, before disapparating from the main hall of the Dark Lord's Domain.

***

"Are...are you all right, Xander?"

Staring blindly at the TV screen, Alexander didn't turn at Willow's voice from behind him. He was distracted, trying to work out what could possibly be upsetting his mother.

She had been nervous, lately, jumpy. He couldn't put his finger on what could be affecting her, but he had to admit that a lot more weird stuff than usual seemed to be happening around Sunnydale.

That was probably it.

Beside him, the cushions of the couch shifted slightly and he turned to find Willow's concerned eyes studying him. Smiling weakly, he nodded towards the television. "Its the Snoopy Special."

"I know." She didn't look away from him, her brow wrinkling. "Xander, is there something wrong?" He opened his mouth to answer, but knew that whatever he was about to say would be a lie. "Xander, you can tell me..."

"It...it's okay, Will." He faked a smile. "Mom's just been kinda stressed out so I was thinking about her." The red head nodded patiently.

Of all the people he knew, Willow was the one who knew him best, knew about the issues his family had. Even Jesse couldn't say he knew everything about Alexander, while Wilow could name the dates he lost his first tooth, first rode a bike, first ate solid food...

She and his mother were never short of conversation material, he admitted with a quiet laugh, turning back towards the television. He had regularly walked into the kitchen in mornings, in his pyjamas, to find them sitting and talking about him.

"Hey!" He pointed to the television. "The Snoopy Dance!"

Scrambling over the arm of the couch, he immediately started dancing and Willow hid her mouth behind her hand, giggling. Even with their twelve years of friendship, she still covered her mouth when she laughed, as if it was something bad.

As he danced, he didn't notice her smile fading, her green eyes that were fixed on him still filled with concern. Maybe he had said everything was all right, but she knew better than that.

All she wanted to do was help him, but unable to do that, she applauded politely as he finished his dance, taking a bow and bouncing back down beside her on the couch, noticing the snacks she was carrying. "Ooh! Popcorn."

Holding out the bowl to him, Willow jolted as he flopped down, his head in her lap and continued to watch the Snoopy Special, munching on handfuls of popcorn. Her fingers stroked through his hair gently.

A tiny smile crossed her lips.

Maybe she couldn't help him...but this was good enough for her now.

***

"Did it work?" Watching her son and his friend watching the television in the living room, through a narrow gap in the kitchen door, Cassandra spoke into the phone in a hushed voice. "Is he going to leave us alone?"

Ethan's familiar voice came back to her, sounding as strained as hers was. "I dunno about that yet, luv." He said. "What he said isn't enough of a guarantee?"

"It's never enough." She whispered. "You need to find out if the Death Eaters have been taken off our trail."

"I've got a meeting with Poison in about an hour or so, so I'll let you know as soon as I know."

"You...you sound tired."

He chuckled wearily. "I've been continent-hopping for the last two days straight almost... does tend to get a bit exhausting." He yawned. "Cassie, I don't wanna stop talking to you, but I..."

"I know, Ethan." She smiled sadly. "You sound like you're almost asleep as it is."

"I have to go to see Poison. I have to know you're safe. You and Alex." There was a moment's pause. "Skeleton?"

"Yes?"

"You know I love you, don't you?" Tears stung in Cassandra's eyes. She could hear the exhaustion, pain and longing in his voice. He was so far away and all she wanted to do was hold him. "Don't you?"

"Yes." She spoke hoarsely. "I love you too."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

She could visualize the tired smile on his lined face. "Go and look after your little boy, Cass." He ordered gently. "I'll talk to you as soon as I know any more about this whole mess."

"Take care, Ethan."

"You too, Skeleton." There was a quiet click, then the dull tone of the phone.

Cassandra hung the phone back in its cradle, leaning against the wall as twin tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Pressing her eyes shut, she forced down another wave and wiped her eyes with the heel of her right hand.

Sniffing hard, she blinked to hide any evidence of tears. Withdrawing her wand, she conjured a plate of pungent, golden-brown onion rings, her most reliable excuse when she emerged from the kitchen with watery eyes.

Picking it up, after concealing her wand, she pushed the door open. "Hey kids! What are you watching?"

***

"Are you insane?!"

Those were the first words that greeted Ethan as he apparated into the basement of Honeydukes. Illuminated by the flickering glow from the tip of his wand, Severus Snape was glaring at him furiously, black eyes glittering.

"Now that's not the welcome I was looking for." Wearily sitting down on one of the crates, Ethan ran a hand through his curly hair. "Sev, sit down, would you? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

"How could you do something so idiotic?"

Green eyes met black. "Idiotic how?"

"How could you send her in there? What if he hadn't allowed her to leave?"

Ethan shook his head. "It wouldn't have made any difference." He said quietly.

"Surely you considered her son!" Snape was pacing angrily across the floor, sending clouds of dust in the air. "What if he had been left motherless, because you - the fool that you are - sent his mother straight to HIM?"

One hand rose. "Sev, like I said, it wouldn't have made a difference."

"She could have been placed under the cruciatus curse! Or the imperius!" His voice rising with rage, Snape turned on his ally, his fists balled. "She could have been killed and the effort put in by you and I would be in vain!"

"SEV!" Ethan's voice rose angrily. "Shut up for a moment!" His head drooped to his chest, his posture speaking of utter physical exhaustion. Snape seemed to notice and reluctantly sat down on the edge of another crate. "She was never there."

"What are you talking about?" Snape demanded irritably. "I saw her there. They saw her there. HE saw her there."

Ethan shook his head slowly from side to side, as if it were very heavy. "No, you didn't." He said softly. "It wasn't her."

"It...wasn't little Bones?" Ethan shook his head again. "Then who was it..." Green eyes - ringed with dark circles - met black again. Snape recoiled in shock, his mouth falling open. "No..."

"Polyjuice is incredible stuff." Ethan looked down at his hands, which were gripping his knees through his trousers. His voice was so low that Snape could barely hear a word he was saying.

"But You-Know-Who..." Disgust, awe and shock rivaled for places on the sallow-skinned teacher's face. He seemed to be having trouble finding words to express what he was thinking. "Ethan, he took her...I mean, he...you...surely you didn't..."

Ethan's eyes locked onto his hands again. "I did what was necessary to protect little Bones and the boy." His voice shook slightly, then he looked up at Snape. "She can never know, Sev. Do you understand me? She. Must. Never. Know."

Snape nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say.

"You..." After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, he spoke. "You must care a great deal for her."

"More than you know." Ethan acknowledged. "But that isn't why I'm here. Has he called off the search?"

The Potions Master nodded. "His attention is more focused on returning to the position he was in before his fall." His bony hands drummed on the top of the crate pensively. "I think he wants to wage war on Hogwarts, though. He wants Dumbledore out of the way."

"Is it possible?"

"Well, Dumbledore is finally being forced to acknowledge that he is no longer as young as he used to be..." Snape sadly admitted. "However, I believe that it's going to take some time for Voldemort to regain his full powers. By the time he is ready, who can say? There may be someone...or a group strong enough to face him."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

Snape smiled thinly. "I can ensure that the next generation of Death Eaters are lacking in magical skill and prowess, so that gives us a small advantage. We can hope that it - and the powerful muggle-borns - will be of use."

Ethan got to his feet slowly. "Thanks, Sev." He held out a hand, which Snape immediately enclosed with his own. Black met green again. "I'll keep in touch...you can have the privilege of being the envoy of the Mother of the Heir."

"Oh the joy."

Chuckling, the sandy-haired Wizard smiled. "I thought you would say that." He squeezed Snape's hand tightly. "Thanks for your help, Sev." The sincerity in his voice surprised the darker wizard. "Keep safe, all right?"

"Concern for my well-being?"

Ethan grinned, a boyish look crossing his rapidly-aging face. "Where else would I find a supplier as efficient as you?"

"Selfish bastard." Snape returned the grin wryly.

"Conceited git." Ethan released Snape's hand. "Like I said, take care."

"And you, Ethan. I'd hate to lose my best customer."

Shaking his head, Ethan disapparated with a pop. Less than a heartbeat later, there was another popping sound and the basement of the shop was - once more - empty, but for supplies, dust and the occasional mouse.

***

"Yes, Cass, I'm positive." Soaking in a steaming bath, Ethan held the phone against his ear with one hand, while scrubbing viciously at his body with a rough sponge with the other hand. "I spoke to Poison..."

"But he could be lying...or wrong!"

Wincing as he scrubbed harder, Ethan sighed. "Cass, luv, trust me. Sev wasn't lying about this. The hunt is off. All you have to do is worry about the Hellmouth reacting to your old man's resurfacing dark powers."

Cassandra's voice sounded tiny. "I still find it hard to believe a Death Eater."

"He hasn't blabbed about you or your squirt in the last fourteen years, Cass." Ethan reminded her. "I don't think he's about to start now."

"Yeah...I know..." There was a soft sigh. "Thanks, Ethan." He heard her gasp with fright or surprise. "I have to go, Ethan!" She said sharply. "Robert just got home."

"Love you."

"You too."

As the phone rang off, he quickly tossed it across the bathroom to land in the pile of his clothes. His attention returned to his lean body, a few scars dashed here and there to remind him to stay out of trouble.

The sponge was still grating against his skin and he wasn't surprised to see that he had scrubbed his chest and arms raw, while talking to Cassie, the tiny beads of blood gathering and spreading in a wash of pink over his torso.

He didn't care about the blood, though.

Anything, to feel vaguely clean again.

Drawing a deep breath, he submerged himself beneath the steaming, scented water, felt his skin prickling with the intense heat of the liquid.

He braced his hands against the smooth sides of the bath, letting the heat envelope him, sounds around him muffled by the fluid burbling softly in his ears, his eyes pressed shut.

Erupting from the water, gasping as the cold air around the ice-white bathroom hit his soaking body, he swallowed great gulps of air, slumping back against the end of the bath.

Panting, he closed his eyes, instinctively reaching for the sponge again.

He knew what Voldemort had done to him could not be classed as rape, since he had forced himself to go along with it, but the physical violation of his borrowed form had felt personal and it had sickened him.

A shudder past through Ethan, as he recalled the horrible sensations of the spidery hands moving on the illusion of Cassandra's body, his stomach tightening.

Leaning over the edge of the bath, he retched wetly, the contents of his half-empty stomach splattering on the white tiles of the floor. Half-hanging over the edge of the bath, shivering from the cold, the wizard shuddered as a sob escaped him.

The raw, animalistic sobs increased in ferocity, all the pain, despair for his lover and the sheer sense of uselessness he felt, which had been bottled up for so long erupting from the wizard.

How could she have survived that?

Had she felt as disgusted with herself as he did now?

Did she feel as cheap and useless when Voldemort had degraded her?

Burying his face in his arms, folded on the smooth edge of the bath, Ethan broke down entirely.

If he felt so horrific and so disgusted with himself after one night of shame, he knew that he had felt nothing compared to his lover. He knew what he felt must have been a drop in her ocean...

And yet...

How could one such small and insignificant a person be so strong?

"The bastard knew what he was doing when he picked her out." The wizard said softly, to no one in particular. "He knew she would be able to cope with whatever was thrown at her."

Stumbling out of the bath, he groped for a towel, drying himself and dressing again rapidly, in his pyjama bottoms and T-shirt that served as sleeping garb. Another shiver ran through him.

He was fully-clothed and yet...yet...he felt naked.

Stripping off, he pulled on his faithful and thicker shirt and trousers. Making his way through to the Motel room he had acquired, he pulled back the covers on the bed and crawled between them, pulling the blankets up to his chin

Closing his heavy eyes, he felt all the aches and strains pouring through his rigid body into the mattress beneath him. He was so tired, he knew that he would sleep like a log tonight.

His eyes snapped open as footsteps sounded in the hallway. Ethan froze, his heart thundering against his ribs. The footfalls past and there was silence again.

Yes, he would sleep like a log tonight.

That is, he felt the sting of tears, if he dared to close his eyes.

Chapter 7: The Struggle

Set One Year Later - No. 6 in the Harry Potter series (No idea of the book title)

Notes: Yet again, I'm off one some weird tangent from Rowling. If she starts doing what I'm about to do in this chapter, I'll be very surprised. Mind you, we are both strange, Scottish female writers...

Anyway, on to the chapter: This is where things are going to get darker and nastier and there IS going to be a reason at the end of the chapter about why I do a particular thing with a certain character. (You'll know it when you see it, so PLEASE stick around for the explanation, because I do have a reason for this happening)

This is going to be more HP-centric as well, as opposed to mainly Buffy. I'll try and get an equal balance back in the next couple of chapters, but I have to do things this way for the time being. Hope you like...if you like dark and icky ;)

 

"Earth to Xander! Come in, Xander!"

"Huh?" Blinking, Alexander stared momentarily at the hand waving in front of his face, then to the owner of that hand. Jesse grinned at him and Alexander sheepishly grinned back. "Was I doing it again?"

"Jaw was almost on the floor this time." Jesse confirmed, leaning over the edge of the windowsill to watch the show.

Both of the fifteen-year-old boys had never been more grateful for the fact that the Harris' neighbours had a sprinkler system in the back garden, which their teenage daughter and her friends used regularly during summer as a cooling device.

On this particular day, the pair were watching half a dozen bikini-clad fifteen-year-old girls running around the garden, squealing with laughter, as the ice-cold spray washed over them.

Although they were loathe to admit, the one girl that drew their attention the most in what could be called the aesthetically-pleasing sense - despite the lack of running-through-sprinklers - was Cordelia Chase.

The brunette was lazing on a sun-lounger, her already bronzed skin revealed to the elements, a stylish pair of sunglasses propped artistically on top of her thick hair as she surveyed her minions at play.

The boys had randomly imagined Cordelia as having a stunning figure, which was a bad thing because they were meant to hate her, but they had never realised just how close they were.

Cordelia Chase had the kind of figure that no fifteen-year-old girl truly had the right to have.

"And what are you two up to?"

Scrambling off the windowsill guiltily at the amused voice of Mrs Harris, Alexander and Jesse exchanged glances. They had had contingency ideas about what they were going to use as their excuse, but neither could remember which excuse they had decided on as the final one.

"Uh..."

"Well..."

"We weren't watching the girls next door." Jesse said, hopefully.

Mrs Harris smiled slightly. "I'm sure you weren't." She looked like she was about to say something else, when she suddenly went rigid, her eyes widening. The colour flooded from her cheeks and she leaned heavily against the doorframe. "Oh..."

"Mom?" Alexander took a step forward, eyeing her with concern. "Are you okay?"

Mrs Harris nodded once, stiffly. "Yes...yes, I'm fine." Straightening up, she smiled, although it looked strangely forced to her son. "There are some brownies on the table downstairs, if you want them."

"Brownies? Neat!" Jesse raced out the door and pounded down the stairs.

Alexander followed more slowly, pausing to look down at his mother. In the last year, he had shot up in height and was already taller than her. "Are you sure you're okay, mom?"

She didn't speak, just jerked her chin up and down several times. "You go...enjoy the brownies." Her voice sounded hoarse, almost as if she was in pain.

Reluctantly, her son started down the stairs, but he still turned and looked over his shoulder in time to see his delicate mother walk stiffly into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

***

Snape wanted to leave.

He wanted to be anywhere except the place he was.

Standing on the edges of the room, he was trying to ignore what was going on in front of him, his instinct to protect his pupils driving him insane, especially in the circumstances that they were in now.

Hogsmeade was no longer as safe as Professor Dumbledore had assumed it to be and this particular...ploy had been one that Snape had known nothing about, until it was too late to prevent it from happening.

During the Hogsmeade weekend, several days before, one of the Death Eaters had managed to grab the girl, as she waited for her friends, outside one of the small shops on the outskirts of the village.

Using a port-key, the Death Eater and his victim had vanished from the scene before anyone could even think to raise an alarm, the girl's disappearance sending waves of panic through the 'good' wizarding world.

It hadn't been enormously well-planned, the idea being that faith in Dumbledore would dissipate, should one of his precious pupils be snatched from beneath his very long and crooked nose.

Now, the unfortunate pupil of choice was cowering at the centre of the circle of Death Eaters, her robes hanging in tatters. She was sobbing in fear, her arms raised above her head to fend off more blows.

Despite all the magical capabilities wizards had, Snape was the first to notice they loved physical violence as much as the worst muggle.

"Enough."

From behind the black and silver velvet drapes that hung down behind the throne, Voldemort emerged smoothly. He certainly knew how to make a dramatic entrance, the room falling silently instantly.

"We have a young guest, I see." He studied the whimpering girl, who was trying her best to make herself as small as possible.

Snape felt a pang of fury. Part of him wished he could draw his wand and kill the poor child, before she ended up being used for entertainment for the pack of laughing Death Eaters.

"P-please...don't hurt me..."

Voldemort glided towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. She seemed unable to tear her rude stare away, shivering so violently that her teeth were clattering together. "Who said that I had any intention of harming you, child?"

Wisely, she made no reply, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Rise." He commanded quietly. Shaking so violently she could barely keep her footing, the young witch-in-training managed to get to her feet and swayed where she stood, clutching her ragged robes around her. "Let me see your face."

The tear-stained and dirty face was lifted to him. He studied her intently for a long moment, raising his wands and touching it to her brow. The witch looked like she was about to faint from terror.

"Eradico." The dirt and tears seemed to spring from her features, leaving her pale cheeks clean, shining and pink from the force of the spell that cleaned them. "Ah, my dear, now I remember you..."

Brown eyes stared at him. "No..."

"Of course, you don't remember me like this..." With a casual sweep of his wand, a simple glamour spell meant that Voldemort's features were masked with the features he had been born with, as Tom Riddle. "Is this better?"

The young witch gasped, staring at him. "T-Tom?"

"Yes, Ginny." His thin hand came up and cupped her chin tenderly. Ginny Weasley recoiled, shuddering, but the Dark Lord maintained the facade, pulling a look of hurt onto his human face. "Ginny, what is it?"

"Get away from me...get away..." She started to back away, but was blocked by two large Death Eaters.

Voldemort held out a hand to her, playing the part of the spurned lover astoundingly well. "What did I do, Ginny? Don't you remember how much I cared about you? How much we talked...?"

At the sidelines, Snape felt physically sick watching. He knew what Voldemort was doing. He had seen the manipulations of the Dark lord far too many times and he knew that he was incapable of stopping it.

The fifteen-year-old witch was shaking her head despairingly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Ginny, please...I don't know what happened...someone possessed me..."

"Stop it...you're not him..."

"But I am, Ginny...and I still care for you...you know I do..." Ginny shook her head, her sobs becoming audible. It was clear that she had held a great deal of affection for the 'Tom' she had known, four years earlier.

After all, Tom Riddle was definitely a handsome boy. His vivid poison-green eyes and mop of unruly black hair caused a striking resemblance between him and Potter, which Voldemort was clearly manipulating.

"Please...don't..."

"All I want to do is take care of you, Ginny." Motioning for fresh robes from the other Death Eaters, Voldemort wrapped the thick material around her shoulders with a display of deceptive gentleness.

"Let me go home." She croaked, her struggle to pull free from him and the warm, soft robes growing more feeble by the minute.

"I can't, Ginny...they won't let me do that..." He shot a look around at the group, which the girl would probably interpret as anger, but they saw the malevolent glee glittering in his red-tinted green eyes.

Sagging against him, sobbing, Ginny allowed herself to be navigated towards his bed chamber, out of sight, the Dark Lord's arms wrapped around the girl almost as if he truly did care for her.

If there was something Voldemort excelled in, it was the art of persuasion. Within days, it was practically guaranteed that the Dark Lord would get the required effects, without having to resort to any magic on his victim.

Snape lowered his eyes, trying not to think about it.

All he could do was prepare Hogwarts for the worst.

***

The door of the dungeon crashed open, causing the Potions Master to look up, in time to get punched across the face by a sixth year boy.

The force of the blow caught him off-guard and he staggered back against the bench he was working at, knocking over his small cauldron, boiling liquid searing the skin of his arm.

"What did you do that for?" Ronald Weasley demanded furiously. "You just left her there, you bastard!"

Bringing up a hand to massage his throbbing cheek, Snape studied the boy, whose face was almost as red with fury as his hair was on a regular basis. "Had this been any other circumstance, Weasley, I would have had you expelled."

"But I have a damn good excuse this time, you slimy prick." Weasley snarled, his hands balled into fists by his sides. "That...thing has my little sister and you just left her there!"

"You expect me to walk in, collect her from the Dark Lord and return with her? If it's that easy, I'm sure you would be much better at rescues than you could be under my tuition." The Potions Master wondered just how angry the boy would get.

Ron's face purpled with rage and he grabbed the front of Snape's robes, shaking him savagely. "She's just a kid! You abandoned a fifteen-year-old girl with him! How can you live with yourself?"

"I did what I had to. I do not need to make excuses to angry children."

Gritting his teeth, Snape allowed another savage punch to catch him across the face, the boy visibly shaking with outrage. He knew the boy needed some kind of catharsis, before he could speak to him logically.

"You didn't want to help her, did you?" The boy's voice was ringing off the domed ceiling of the dark dungeon and the Potions Master was surprised that no one had come to see what all the noise was about. "Because she's a Weasley! Because she's not one of your precious Slytherins!"

"That is NOT the case, Weasley." Snape snarled dangerously. "I would do the same for any pupil!"

"What? Leave them to rot?" Weasley yelled.

"Would you prefer me to bring her back dead?" Snape hissed.

That seemed to hit home, the hands gripping the front of Snape's robes loosening, as the boy sagged, his face crumpling with grief. "She's my baby sister," He moaned in despair. "My little sister...and I can't help her."

Much to his own surprise, Snape put his arms around the boy, as Ron Weasley let the sobs come forth, his shoulders heaving with the violence of his self-hatred at his inability to help his only sister.

"You couldn't know it would happen, boy." Snape murmured soothingly, his silky voice a wonderfully calming influence when he chose to make it so. "You wouldn't have been able to prevent it, any more than I could."

Gradually, the sobs faded and - somewhat embarrassed - Ron let himself be directed to one of the vacant stools, beside the bench, as Snape moved to the gargoyle tap and sloshed icy water over the blister that was forming nicely on his hand.

"Why couldn't you stop it?" Ron asked carefully, as if expecting a punishment for his behaviour of moments before.

Dabbing the burn with some lotion from a bottle, Snape's black eyes flicked to Ron and he sighed. "You wouldn't understand it, boy." He winced, studying the blister. "I doubt I even understand it."

"But he won't kill her...?" The desperate hope in the boy's shaking voice made Snape's heart wrench.

"I can't be sure, Weasley." He turned his back on the boy to restart the potion, but it was mainly because he couldn't face looking the hopeful youth in the eyes. "He may try to take her to the dark side."

"Not Ginny. She would never."

The bone-headed stubbornness of the Weasley boy made Snape smile slightly. He didn't want to be the one to remind the boy that only four years previously, his sister had accidentally given herself over to the dark side without realising.

"There is always a possibility that he will let her go."

"There...there is? I thought he..." Ron trailed off.

This time, he knew had to face the boy with the truth. Turning, he caught Ron's eyes with his. "It all depends," He said gravely. "On what You-Know-Who has done to or with them. Sometimes, those who are returned prefer to die anyway..."

"Not Ginny." Ron whispered.

"Be sure to let her know that, if she returns." The Potions Master suggested in a quiet voice. "Give her a reason to want to live."

The boy looked down at his fists, which were clenched on his knees, and nodded slowly. Then, he did something that Snape never expected. He stood and held out a hand to the Professor. Snape hesitantly grasped the boy's hand in his own.

"Thank you." Ron stated firmly.

"For what?"

The flame-haired boy shrugged. "I don't know." He honestly answered. "For telling me the truth, I s'pose." His eyes scanned the blooming bruises on Snape's jaw. "And for letting me hit you...it...kind of helped."

A weary smile crossed Snape's face. "You're welcome, Weasley, only..." He gave Ron a subtle look, as they parted their hands.

"Don't worry," Ron said gruffly, stuffing his hands quickly into his pockets. "I'm not about to go running off to tell Harry and Hermione that I cried on the Potions Master's robes." He smiled weakly. "Thanks for that as well, though."

"And you, Weasley." Snape bowed his head slightly. "You reminded me that what I'm doing is still worth fighting for."

That said, he turned back to his work and Weasley turned and walked out of the dungeon, silence the only thing left between them.

***

It as almost three months since Ginny's capture.

The Ministry had given up on the search several weeks earlier, none of them having the faintest idea where to start looking, although the rest of the Weasley family had continued their fruitless search for their youngest member.

Snape had been left to watch over the girl, who now shared a bed Voldemort - or Tom as she still called him. Despite the fact that she had been manipulated into a relationship with the Dark Lord, she was still terrified of the Death Eaters.

Perhaps, he mused, watching her clutching blankets around her fearfully as he paced the bed chamber, it was because she saw Tom Riddle's face, instead of the true face of the Dark Lord and the masks of the Death Eaters.

She had turned sixteen during her captivity, something that the Dark Lord had seen as significant. He had toyed with her up until that moment, then - as she reached her first coming of age - seduced her with soft words of affection and tenderness.

Ginny - Snape could see it in her haunted eyes - was falling desperately in love with the gentle illusion of love the Voldemort had presented her with.

It was hardly surprising, considering the particular conditions she was being held under, isolated in the grim, black-walled halls of Voldemort's home and visited only by mocking, frightening figures in cloaks and masks.

For her to take comfort from the only kind and 'maskless' face in their number, the young man who treated her with gentle affection, it was impossible for any lost girl not to fall in love with the handsome wizard.

Normally, she stayed hidden away when Voldemort greeted his followers, her fear of them palpable from the next room. That was the only time he unmasked his face, so she would only ever see him as Tom.

Up until this day, he had never left her in his home, but he believed he had enough control over her and, leaving Snape, he and the rest of the Death Eaters had gone on a muggle hunt, for some entertainment.

He knew she would be waiting for him to return.

And Snape knew from that that Voldemort was almost ready to break the child.

Snape ceased pacing and sat down in a large, elaborate silvery chair near the drapes that led into the main hall of the Lair. From behind his mask, he studied the girl crouched on the bed.

He had considered trying to spirit her out, but Voldemort had placed some additional spells around the darkened chambers - with both Snape and Ginny surreptitiously watching - which would kill anyone who tried to depart without permission.

The Potions Master tapped his fingertips together. Even if he had tried, he knew that Ginny wouldn't go anywhere unless her precious Tom told her to do so and he really didn't want to frighten her anymore than he had to.

"Are you hungry, child?" He asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. The girl shook her head vehemently. "Cold?" Again, she only shook her head and he stood up with an impatient sigh, striding towards the bed.

"Don't hurt me!" She scrambled back across the covers, slamming back against the headboard. "Tom told you to leave me alone...he said so..."

Snape sat down on the end of the broad bed, not going any closer to her. "I'm not going to hurt you, child. I would never dream of doing such a thing." He said softly, trying to catch her eyes with his.

Withdrawing his wand, he tried to ignore her whimper of terror, and conjured a plate of food and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Ginny stared at it, her brown eyes huge and suspicious. "Wh-what's that for?" She demanded hoarsely.

"It's for you, child. You haven't eaten."

The girl laughed, high and strained, her expression wild. "How do I know that you haven't done something to it? You might have poisoned it! You might have because Tom told you to leave me alone!"

"Do you want proof, child?" He took a little of the warm, soft bread and chewed it.

Before he had even swallowed it, the girl had scrambled across the bed, the thick hot chocolate splashing onto the covers as she neared, grabbing the bread from his hand and devouring it as if she hadn't seen food in months.

Gulping down the hot chocolate, she cleared the dish of food in minutes, keeping a soft roll gripped tightly in her hands.

Scrambling back to the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest, the flimsy nightshirt she was wearing doing little to disguise her figure, she nibbled on the roll, staring anxiously at Snape.

"Why did you do that?" She asked shakily.

"You looked hungry."

Ginny blinked at him, as if trying to comprehend this strange kindness from a dark and frightening creature that - to her - represented pain and torment. Shivering, her hands held up in front of her chest, she stared at him. "Wh-who are you?"

"No one in particular." He answered quietly. "No one to be proud of."

She squinted a him, as if this response had puzzled her, then returned to chewing on her roll. Snape remained where he was, watching her frantic, scared movements, until they heard the sound of voices from the next room.

Ginny all but flew off the bed.

"Tom!"

Reluctantly following her through the drapes, Snape saw the girl crash straight into the disguised Voldemort's arms, his throat constricting at the cruel expression on Riddle's face, his bloody hands pushing Ginny back from him.

It was time, he knew.

Now, they would find out just how strong the poor child really was.

***

"Shit..." Snape nodded. Sitting on a crate opposite him, Ethan shook his head, his face looking drawn and haggard by the light of the wands. "He really is a sick bastard, isn't he?"

"I think that goes without saying."

"Poor kid." The sandy-haired wizard stared down at his hands, curled in white-knuckled fists in his lap. "At least she's back in the safety of her friends and family now... that's a good thing." He saw the look on Snape's face. "Isn't it?"

"Think about it, Ethan." The Potions Master's voice shook. "You're convinced this one individual loves you. You share all kinds of secrets with them and then, just when you think you can't love them even a fraction more, they take your heart and smash it into irreparable pieces." He raised black eyes to Ethan's. "He broke her heart and made her feel as worthless as one person can feel. She was used in the worst way by the Dark Lord. She feels like she's worth less than dirt."

"I can safely say I've been there, done that and burned the T-shirt." Ethan muttered grimly. "What can be done to help her?"

"We don't know." Snape admitted wearily. "She's back at Hogwarts, because that really is the safest place she can be at the moment." He studied his hands. "They're taking care of her and trying to help her."

"But they don't know what they're dealing with." Ethan finished. He sighed. "I think there's only a few people in the world who have felt like she does now, thanks to You-Know-Who."

"And you're one of them?"

Green eyes blazed briefly, but the flare of wariness faded and Ethan nodded. "It took me months before I could sleep through the night without waking up in the middle of a nightmare."

"Do you have any suggestions about how we could help her?"

Ethan's lips straightened in a thin smile. "Don't let her anywhere near poisons or anything that might be able to kill her." He answered, his expression one of deadly seriousness. "If she hates herself as much as I hated myself after just one night, then suicide will seem like a relief."

"I'll let Dumbledore know."

"The sooner the better." Ethan nodded, digging into his pocket and pulling out a scrap of paper. "But, if you need to get in contact with me and can't get me through the fire, in case of an emergency," Snape didn't need to ask what 'emergency' meant and took the paper, which had a number scribbled on it. "It's a muggle phone number. Get to a town with a phone and dial it. I'll be here as soon as possible."

"What could you possibly do?"

Ethan studied the potions master for a long moment, then answered slowly. "If I can manage to arrange it, I'll try and get the girl to talk to the one person who has suffered as much as she has."

Snape went pale. "You can't mean you'll bring Bones to her..."

"No. Nothing as dramatic as that." Ethan glanced around, as if checking the walls weren't listening. "You'll get old Dumble's permission to take the girl to a specialist and we'll meet halfway, in a no-man's-land."

"Do you think we'll have to resort to that?" When Ethan made no reply, his jaw tightening, Snape nodded. "If the worst comes to the worst, I'll get in touch and we'll see what can be done."

"Thanks, Sev."

"Take care, all right?"

"And you."

Two pops sounded and the basement was empty and dark once again.

***

Standing in the hospital wing, over the bed of the girl, Dumbledore's brow was lined with grief and concern. The room was silent, the high curtains pulled around the bed to shield it from prying eyes.

The Weasley family had just been ushered out of the medical wing by Madam Pomfrey, Molly Weasley sobbing in despair at the sight of her little girl looking so still and weak.

Little Ginny Weasley had somehow got hold of poison.

She had been hiding in the lower parts of the dungeons, in the darkness, and had been found just in time by the Potions Master, who seemed to instinctively know that she needed help.

Snape had scooped the fragile young woman up in his arms, shouting at a house elf to fetch Dumbledore, running to his own class room and rapidly brewing the antidote for whatever it was she had taken.

He had been in the process of forcing the glutinous black liquid down her throat when Professor Dumbledore had reached the dungeon. The sight was one that the Head Master hoped he would never have to see again, the girl thrashing on the work bench, as she tried to escape Snape's purgative potion.

Fortunately, she was too weak to fend him off, the potion doing its work, and within minutes, the poison she had taken erupted from her mouth in a burst of mouldy-looking fluid.

She had then collapsed on the bench and Snape had said nothing, as he gathered her up and followed the silent Head Master towards the hospital wing, Ginny Weasley limp in his arms.

Dumbledore heard footfalls beyond the drapes.

"Head master?" As soon as the Weasleys had arrived, Snape had departed, but now that they were gone, he had come back to the medical wing, slipping through the curtains to stand alongside Dumbledore.

"I never imagined she would be so desperately shattered." Blue eyes rested on the motionless girl. "She's lucky that you found her, Severus, and that you knew what she had taken."

"Luck had nothing to do with it, Head Master. I was warned she may react like this."

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "What do you suggest we do? After all, you seem to have more knowledge of these situations than I."

A closed look crossed Snape's face, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "I have heard of someone who...may help." He said, wondering if his voice sounded as rigid to Dumbledore as it did to him. "I would have to take her to this...associate secretly."

"I'm sure we can arrange it, Severus."

Snape felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his thin shoulders. It was just like the Head Master, to respect him and what he believed would help, where everyone else would simply believe he was bluffing.

"I would have to contact the middle-man."

"Of course."

"And no one could know about it."

"I understand entirely." Dumbledore gave the Potions Master a faint smile. "If you can do anything salvage this poor child's mind from the darkness, I would gladly give my right arm to help."

Snape nodded. "Thank you, Head Master. I'll arrange it as soon as possible."

***

"P-Professor Snape?"

Snape was seated beside the bed of the youngest Weasley and looked up when her hoarse voice spoke his name. "Miss Weasley," He smiled slightly. "It's a relief to see you are conscious again."

"You stopped me." She whispered, tears brimming in her brown eyes.

"Death did not deserve you, child." He said softly. "Just as Riddle did not."

Ginny eyes widened in fear. "You...you were there!" She gasped, trying to shakily back away across the bed, but still too weak to do so.

Snape didn't move, gazing at her. "I was, Miss Weasley." He admitted. "I wish I had been able to prevent what he did to you, but - unfortunately - he is still more powerful than I am."

"Wh-what do you want from me? Why did you stop me?" She demanded, the suspicion returning to her dark, haunted eyes. She had stopped trying to move away, though, staring at his face intently.

"I want to help you, child." One of his thin hands came out and hesitantly covered hers. She shuddered, but - he noticed with relief - she didn't pull away. "Will you allow me to do so?"

"How?"

Wondering how much he should reveal to the girl, he looked down at his hand, which was still covering hers. "I have a...an associate, who knows someone, who was put through a similar ordeal as you. He would have you meet her."

"And...and she's alive?"

"I would hope so." Snape actually smiled. "It would be rather...unpleasant to have you meet a zombie." To his surprise, the girl laughed weakly, her fingers contracting lightly around his. "Would you allow me to take you to her?"

"A-all right." She whispered.

***

Cassandra stared out at the open sea, the setting sun washing her with it's warm golden light. Why she had been told to come to this meeting she knew, but why it was being held on the West side of the Seychelles, she didn't.

Not that she minded.

Clad in a aqua coloured bikini and matching sarong, she closed her eyes, inhaling the salty tang of the sea air, which was tainted with just enough of the tropical scents, making her smile.

Her toes dug into the soft, white sand of the beach, her almost waist-length hair hanging around her shoulders.

It felt so wonderful to be out of the darkness of the Hellmouth and free like this, knowing that this Island was one of the only places in the World where no witch or wizard resided.

Her son was staying at Jesse's house, so she didn't even have him to worry about.

A crackle from behind her caught her attention and she turned, a broad smile coming to her lips instantly. "Ethan!" Scrambling onto her feet, she ran towards the sandy-haired wizard, who caught her in a tight embrace. "I missed you."

"Likewise, Skeleton." He buried his face in the curly mass of her hair and inhaled deeply. "You smell just like I remembered you smelling." He mumbled, his voice muffled by her mane.

"And how's that?"

"Of rotten eggs and dung bombs." He grinned, holding her at arm's length to study her, almost forgetting about the pair behind him, who were watching the reunion with interest. "God, Cass, you look good."

"I look a helluva lot older, Ethan." She replied. It was true. The return of the Dark Lord had aged her, the constant worry about what was happening in the wizarding world concerning her more than ever.

"Still look great to me, Cassie." He claimed a brief, hard kiss, then hugged her to him again, his eyes burning with tears. "I missed you so bloody much." Sniffing hard, she nodded her agreement.

"Ahem?"

The couple shook themselves, drawing their attention back to the other pair on the deserted strip of beach. Snape was standing, in his regulation robes, one hand on the shoulder of a wisp of a girl, who was staring fearfully at Cassandra.

"You!" The blonde woman stepped back at the sight of Snape, the panic in her eyes similar to what he had initially seen in Ginny's. She looked up at Ethan questioningly. "What's he doing here?"

"I had to bring our friend here." He replied softly, inclining his head towards the silent girl beside him. "Dumbledore trusted me to take care of her."

Cassandra's brown eyes narrowed warily, then she turned her attention to the flame-haired girl standing beside the Potions Master. Like him, she was wearing robes that were clutched around her body.

Her face looked gaunt, her dark brown eyes seemed enormous, filled with fear and shame. Dark circles ringed them, as well as the redness that suggested that she had been crying a lot.

The grim expression in the older witch's eyes softened immediately. "Oh God...you poor child..." She opened her arms and - much to the surprise of the two wizards - the little witch ran forward, sobbing as she was gathered in Cassandra's arms.

Without even having to be asked, the girl sobbed out everything that had happened: Riddle's words of love, the way he had taken care of her, the way he kissed her and promised everything would be all right.

She faltered, before continuing to the day that he had betrayed her: he called her a slut who wasn't even worthy of being touched by him, he slapped her and told her she could rot, laughing as she begged him to say it wasn't true.

Her voice shook as she spoke about finding out a poison she could make out of the supplies she had and sneaking to the dungeon to take it, only for Snape to find her and save her life.

By the time she stopped talking, Cassandra was weeping as bitterly as the girl, the child the same age as Cassandra's own son.

"I-I just feel so stupid...so dirt and horrible..."

Cassandra nodded against the girl's tangled hair. "I felt the same way as you do now, Ginny." She said quietly. "He used me, as he used you, and told me that he would spare my family. When I escaped, I got home to find they were dead already..."

"He-he killed your family?" Ginny's face paled. Even the freckles on her cheeks seemed to whiten.

"My parents and my brother." Cassandra confirmed, one hand smoothing the girl's wind-mussed hair. "I thought it was all my fault. That I was so stupid to have believed him. I should have refused to let him touch me."

"Why...why did he want you?" The girl asked hesitantly.

"He wanted an Heir and he wanted me to be the one to bear it for him." Cassandra didn't even hesitate before answering, Snape and Ethan both groaning as she said the words aloud.

Ginny seemed to mull over the words, staring at Cassandra's face. "Did he get an heir?" She asked.

In turn, the older witch studied the red head's face, then she nodded. "He did, but he has never seen him."

"Cass..."

"Shut up, Ethan."

"But..."

"And you, Snape." Her eyes remained locked on the girl's. "I'm trusting you not to tell anyone this, Ginny." She smoothed a curl back from the girl's face. "I know you have suffered a lot, because of that bastard and you had to know why these two idiots thought I would be the right person to talk to you."

The girl nodded. "Is...is he like..."

"You-Know-Who?" Cassandra shook his head. "Not at all. He's about the same age as you and one of his closest friends..." She smiled slightly at the thought of red-haired Willow. "She's a lot like you."

"How..." Ginny swallowed hard, trying to face asking the question. "How did you stop feeling dirty?"

"It took a long time." Cassandra continued to stroke the girl's hair gently. "I tried to wash myself until it went away, but that didn't work." Ginny nodded. She had done the same, she said. "It wasn't until a friend found me and took care of me and showed me that I wasn't dirty and useless, like I thought." Her eyes flicked to Ethan, a small smile reaching her lips. "He's the only one who I could tell everything and he didn't care that I felt too dirty for him to come near me. He ignored me saying I wasn't worthy of being friends with him. He took me in his arms and just let me cry."

"And it stopped hurting?"

"That took a long time, too, but one day, you'll feel worth something again." Her eyes lifted to Snape. "If someone is willing to help you and to support you."

"But I-I can't tell my friends...they'd be afraid of me..."

Cassandra's eyes found the girl's. "That's what I believed, but Ethan showed me I was wrong. It took a while, but I finally started to believe him." She nodded towards Snape. "And if you need to talk someone who knows what it's like to hate yourself, I would suggest he would be a good start."

Snape started. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't." Cassandra said quietly. "You better take damn good care of her, Severus."

The Potions Master nodded. "If she wants me to."

Ginny looked up at him. "You...you looked after me in there...and when he sent me back...and when I...when I tried to kill myself." She sniffed softly. "You know what happened to me...no one else does..."

"Do I see the beginnings of a dubious friendship?" Ethan forced a smile.

The younger witch stared up at Snape, a strange expression in her eyes. "You...you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not, child." He said softly. "Should you need someone who you wish to talk to, simply let me know and I will give you sufficient detentions to keep you in my class." Ginny almost giggled again. "There, child, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"You never cease to surprise me, Sev." Ethan remarked quietly. He glanced at his watch, grimacing. "But now, I think we need to break up this little party. I, for one, have a full time job to uphold."

Cassandra brushed her fingers through Ginny's hair once more. "You'll be all right, little one?" The girl nodded. "Should you want to talk to me again, let Professor Snape know and he'll contact me, through Ethan and I'll see what I can do."

Impulsively throwing her arms around the blonde witch's neck, hot tears spilled down Ginny's cheeks. "Thank you." She whispered.

"You're more than welcome, little one." Returning the genuine embrace, Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut to stem her own tears. "Just remember that you're not what he said you are. You're so much better than that."

Parting, the two witches exchanged strained smiles, then Snape held out a hand to Ginny, who took it without hesitation.

"We'll be in touch." Snape said, before picking up the dirty bottle that had served as a port-key from Hogwarts, leaving Ethan and Cassandra standing side-by-side on the deserted beach.

Shivering slightly, the sun long gone, Cassandra looked up at Ethan. "So, you were saying you had to get to work?" She smiled slightly as he gathered her to him, his arms warm around her body.

"I lied."

She pretended to be shocked. "That was naughty!"

"What can I say?" He murmured before he kissed her. "I'm a rebel."

EXPLANATION

All right, before the flaming begins for child abuse, let me please remind you that I am from the United Kingdom (Britain). Harry Potter and Company are also from Britain and the stories are set here.

The age of consent in this country is sixteen years of age, therefore, Lord Voldemort could legally seduce Ginny as soon as she reached the age of sixteen, which she did in this story. Therefore, going by the laws of MY country, I have done nothing vaguely illegal with these characters.

The reason I wanted to use Ginny Weasley because she did have the connection with Tom Riddle as is mentioned. She also has a fragility that I thought could be useful later in the story, so I wanted someone very dissimilar to Cassandra, who is a very strong individual as Ethan has noticed.

The only reason that I had to use her at the age of sixteen (please appreciate that I did not resort to child abuse, because I made certain to have her turn sixteen before anything intimate happened), instead of waiting until she is eighteen is because I already have those chapters planned out and it wouldn't fit with the storyline.

Hopefully, I haven't offended anyone.

If I have, please remember Voldemort is a nasty, naughty and evil wizard, who likes to destroy innocent lives and the muggle laws are beneath him, so it isn't my fault that he's a randy old pervert.

Honestly.

Chapter 8: The Failure

Set One year later - Book Seven in the Harry Potter Series (Title unknown - probably something like "Harry Potter and the never-to-be-finished Series". And no, I'm not at all frustrated by the fact she's changed the deadline for the release date of Order of the Phoenix by over a year...)

As I have warned in the chapters since Voldemort's return, things are getting rapidly grimmer and darker and generally a lot worse, as dear old You-Know-Who gets his powers back in full.

"I'm going out, mom!"

"Wait a minute!" Cassandra hurtled through from the kitchen to the living room, to catch her son trying to make an escape out the front door of the house. "You've been going out every night! Where are you going?"

Alexander shrugged and she could in his eyes that he was trying to decide whether to lie or not. "Bronze, I guess..."

Cassandra folded her arms over her chest. "Is this anything to do with that Buffy girl that's at school with you and Jes..." She froze, hand coming to her mouth. "Oh, Alex, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, mom." Her son tried to pull a brave face on, but she could see through it, a pang of guilt hitting her.

It was less than two months since the school term had started and almost exactly that time since Jesse, Alexander's best friend since Kindergarten, had...well, police reports said he vanished, but Cassandra instinctively knew that he was dead.

And what made it worse was that she had a feeling that Alexander knew something about what had happened to his friend.

"So you're...you're going out?"

He nodded. "I'm going to go see Buffy and Will at the school. We're doing some extra studying down at the library." The sceptical look on his mother's face made him smile weakly. "Well, Buffy's cute and she needs a study buddy to distract her."

"Now that's more like it." She gave him her best maternal glare. "And I expect you home before your father, do you hear me? That gives until at least midnight, which should be enough for studying."

"Thanks, mom!" He raced off out the door immediately.

Cassandra stood at the bottom of the stairs, near the front door, for a long moment, deliberating about what she should do. Part of her thought she should let the boy get on with it, but part of her wondered what he was really doing.

Unable to resist checking up on him - after all, she reasoned aloud, he has only just turned sixteen - she withdrew her wand and called loudly. "Accio invisibility cloak!"

Less than two minutes after Alexander had left the house, she was trailing him, concealed by the invisibility cloak that Ethan had got hold of for her, as a gift the previous year, just 'in case', he claimed.

Much to her surprise, he did actually go to the deserted High school, although there did seem to be a strange number of lights on, considering it was almost eight o'clock in the evening.

Silencing her footsteps with a quickly muttered spell, she hurried down the corridors after him, stopping short in even greater surprise when he actually wandered straight into the school library.

"Hey, G-Man." He saluted the librarian, before dropping himself into one of the seats beside the table, which was - oddly enough - piled high with books and tomes that looked ancient.

The blonde witch outside the door almost cursed aloud when the librarian emerged from his office, another pile of books cradled lovingly in his arms. "I-I do wish you wouldn't call me that, Xander."

"Rupert Giles..." She breathed, her eyes narrowing.

How could she not have known about his arrival in Sunnydale? One of her lover's oldest former friends, he - too - had attended Hogwarts and had been one of the three Ravenclaws exiled from their world along with Ethan for their apparently harmless experimentation with the Dark Arts.

"Would you prefer it if I called you Mr-Watcher-Sir?" Alexander grinned engagingly up at Giles, but Cassandra barely noticed the grin, her head swimming with this revelation on top of the first.

Watcher?

Rupert Giles was a watcher?

Rupert Giles was a watcher and her son knew about it?

Clearly something had been changed in the whole theory of secret-identity.

"Just Giles is fine, th-thank you."

Cassandra jumped back from the swing door when she heard footsteps approaching down the hall, backing up against the lockers, as two girls came around the corner, talking enthusiastically about something.

One of them was Willow and the other, she assumed, was the illustrious Buffy.

If Rupert was a Watcher, did that mean this dizzy-looking, little blonde girl was the Vampire Slayer?

Certainly, it made sense for a Slayer to be on the Hellmouth now.

Since Voldemort's return, the dark powers seemed to be growing everywhere with his intervention, so it wasn't surprising that someone was sent to keep tags on the most powerful outlets.

But her? The Slayer?

Cautiously approaching the door again, she watched the girl swing up to sit on the desk beside the librarian's pile of books. "We're present and correct." She announced cheerfully. "Staked three fledglings before I got to Will's. Looks like a nest decided to turn a group and they were out for feeding time."

Beneath her invisibility cloak, Cassandra couldn't help feeling a little impressed.

All right, it was true, maybe the girl didn't particularly look the part of a warrior, but if she could identify the vampire feeding and reproducing habits like that, she had to be doing something right.

"You want us to bring back-up and popcorn?" Alexander volunteered eagerly.

"Popcorn?" Three voices asked.

"So we can watch her kick some more undead ass." He grinned. "It'll be better than the movies!"

Cassandra shook her head, wondering if there was anything her son didn't know about. She had raised him oblivious to the weirdness of the Hellmouth and now, he seemed more than aware of vampires, demons and the undead.

"You would be placing yourself in-in-in grave danger." Giles noted.

"Danger? I laugh in the face of danger!" He paused, then finished. "Then I run and hide until it goes away..." The two girls shook their heads and rolled their eyes in unison. "What?"

"Xander, you don't have to."

The boy looked at the Slayer, who was still sitting on the desk. "I want to." He said with quiet determination. "After what they did to Jesse, I wanna kill every goddamned one of them."

That answered the puzzle of Jesse disappearance, causing Cassandra's hatred of all things dark to increase once again, even though she had thought it impossible for it to grow further.

"Xander..." Willow tried to interrupt.

"Okay, okay, at least try to do something without getting killed myself." Cassandra recognised the puppy eyes charm he was trying on Giles and snickered at the thought of what the Watcher would say, if he knew the infamous Lord Voldemort's son was batting his long lashes at him. "C'mon, G-Man."

"I-I think I'm going to regret this..." Giles mumbled, turning and stalking back into his office, rubbing the lenses of his glasses vigorously.

Shaking her head, Cassandra Harris nee Bones made her way back out of the school and went home, leaving her son to fight - without any of her prompting - against the very arts his biological father was encouraging elsewhere in the world.

Sometimes irony was such an underrated word.

***

In the dank underbelly of Hogwarts, a pair of unlikely friends were working on a potion together, the younger of the pair still uneasy about being in classes with other people of her own age.

It was only the bizarre friendship she had gained from the man who was currently working with her that had prevented her from going completely insane.

No one but him and her youngest elder brother knew about the strange camaraderie they had.

How Ron had come to un-hate the Potions master in her absence, she would never know, but she had been as surprised as Harry and Hermione when Ron no longer joined in the communal bitching about Snape that frequently took place after the Potions classes, in the Gryffindor common room.

She was also incredibly relieved that he seemed to accept her, when she returned, just as she wanted to be: as Ginny Weasley. Everyone else in her family had tiptoed around her as if she was made of glass, but Ron...he had been the same as ever.

Something suggested that the enigmatic, dark, quiet man who had become her closest friend had something to do with both the way her brother was acting and Ron's sudden change of heart about him.

"How much of this stuff do I add?"

Snape gave her a long-suffering look, which raised a grin from her. "My dear Miss Weasley," He heaved a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you that you do not refer to the specific substances as 'stuff'?"

"It's the blue, powdery stuff." She held the bottle out to him.

"Can you not read?"

"Er...is that a trick question?"

"What does it say on the label?" He asked, turning his eyes back to the potion they had simmering in a small cauldron, over a flickering blue flame that he had conjured for the occasion.

Ginny looked at it, then at him. "I can't read your hand-writing."

With an exaggerated growl of aggravation, Snape whirled around in a fashion that would terrify any of her school mates, but Ginny just smiled as he snatched the bottle from her and scowled at the label.

The scowl faded and he started to chuckle.

"And I suppose," He remarked, trying to smother a smile. "That this is your idea of a highly amusing joke?"

"What?" She stared up at him, as if she had no clue what was going on.

"Professor Snape's naughty secret love potion?" He motioned to the large white label that had been stuck across the front of the bottle, complete with a pudgy cupid in a loincloth and little pink hearts drawn all over it.

"Is that what it says?" She gasped. "I didn't know you made love potions!"

"Miss Weasley, should you tamper with my labels again, I think I may be forced to give you another detention."

"But sir," Trying to look horrified, she gasped. "That would take me right through to the end of this term."

"And my evil scheme will be complete." He actually smiled when she burst into a fit of giggles. It was so rare to hear such a simple sound from the poor girl anymore, her own classmates - as she predicted - wary and frightened of her.

A knock at the door, distracted them from the little playact, Snape swirling around, his robes flaring around him in his usual, ominous fashion. Professor Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, his face pale and tense. "Severus..."

Ginny saw Snape's face go through a series of expressions. "H-headmaster?"

The older wizard's eyes flicked to Ginny, who defiantly moved a little closer to Snape, laying a hand on his arm. "We need to know if you knew of any plans of...of Voldemort's that were meant to come into play soon."

Snape shook his head numbly. "No...I don't think there was anything..."

"Miss Weasley, would you mind returning to your common room?" Dumbledore's tone was deadly serious, but Ginny could see that something had happened and that Snape looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

"No. I'm staying with Professor Snape."

"I would much rather you didn't, child." The Potions Master croaked. "I believe the Head Master has something he wishes to discuss with me and I don't want to cause you any discomfort."

"It...it was him...he's done it again, hasn't he?" The girl looked from one face to the other, a shiver running down her back. She was shaking without realising, her face as white as a sheet.

"Child, listen to me." Gently taking her in his arms, Snape stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. "Return to your dormitory." She started to protest, but he stifled her words with the tip of his finger. "Child, please. Your brother will be there and I have to find out what has happened."

Tears welled rapidly in the girl's eyes and it was clear that she had guessed - and probably very accurately - what might have happened, even if she wasn't sure of the specific details.

"Severus, perhaps you should take Miss Weasley back to her common room." the Headmaster suggested softly, as Ginny seemed to slump in Snape's arms. "Have her brother take care of her there."

Nodding, the Potions Master kept Ginny as they exited the dungeon. He could feel her tears soaking through the fabric of his robes, his arms circling her protectively, leaving her practically invisible thanks to his voluminous sleeves.

Reaching the common room, the Fat Lady spotted the shock of red hair against the darkness of the Potion Master's robes. "One of our little ones?" She inquired. Snape nodded grimly. "I'm afraid I'll still need a password."

"Miss Weasley..." Snape looked down, the only answer he received a quiet sob from the girl. "Ginny, child." She looked up, her dark brown eyes more haunted than they had been in months. Snape flinched at the sight. "We need a password."

"Ch-chocolate delinquent." She whispered. The painting swung open, revealing the round hole that led into the common room, the fat Lady still trying to peer around the frame to see what was happening.

Releasing his hold on her, Snape climbed through the hole first, all faces turning to him as he straightened up and glared around at them. He felt Ginny pressing behind him and emphasised his glare a little more.

Unsurprisingly, the common room rapidly cleared, the younger students gathering up their things and fleeing. The older ones tried to play it cool, but only succeeded in making it more noticeable that they were running away - only a little slower.

Looking around the room, Snape was immediately aware that there was no sign of the Gryffindor trio, as they were known.

"WEASLEY!" The bellow echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the room and the door of one of the prefect's rooms opened sharply, a red-haired head sticking out and looking around for the caller. "Down here, now, if you don't mind."

Looking puzzled, Ron ran down the stairs and into the common room, glancing at the empty chairs in wonder. "Blimey...I'll have to learn that trick. Maybe I'll get a seat if I..." He tailed off at Snape's expression. "What is it?"

The Potions Master stepped to one side, bringing Ginny around him to face her elder brother. Ron uttered a curse, opening his arms and gathering Ginny against his broad chest, hugging her tightly.

"I need you to look after your sister temporarily." His voice was a low growl, but his black eyes met Ron's and Ron understood that something was seriously wrong. "She became a little too overwrought to complete her detention today."

"Right..." The way the boy intoned the word suggested disdain and loathing, but Snape could hear beyond it and nodded gratefully, climbing out of the hole in the wall and letting the portrait close behind him.

***

"This is the second time you did not know, Severus."

His hands clenched together in his lap, Snape gazed back at the Headmaster. "You can't hold me responsible for this." He whispered. "I had no idea because he chose not to tell me...I cannot know everything that goes on in there."

"I am aware of this, but this kidnapping is more serious than the situation with Miss Weasley." Professor Dumbledore was studying a whirling sneakoscope on his desk, touching the pointed top with the tip of his bony forefinger. "Creevey was snatched from within the grounds."

The Potions Master's face drained of colour. "They wouldn't be so daring..."

"I'm afraid it appears that they would be." Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes weary. "You have mentioned that you believe they are preparing for an attack of some kind on the wizarding world?"

"It hasn't been decided upon yet." Snape answered. "Voldemort has often made it known that he wants to strike out at you, so this kidnapping could be part of a plan to reduce your reputation."

"And it appears to be working for the most part."

"But..."

A hand waved him into silence. "No, Severus, it's true. In two years, I have seen two pupils kidnapped by the Dark Lord." He sat back a little. "Many parents are growing sceptical of my ability to protect their young ones."

"No one could do a better job than you have." Snape said truthfully. "Voldemort only targets your reputation because you're the one he could never defeat physically, no matter what he tried. He knows that as long as you are protecting this school, he can not possibly take it under his power."

"Yes..." A tired smile reached the Professor's lips. He looked older than Snape had ever noticed before. "Yes, that's true." He sat up a little. "You know what I am going to ask of you now."

"If I can find out how and why the Creevey boy was taken, I'll bring the information as soon as I can." He started to rise, then paused. "Headmaster, could you perhaps take care of Ginny Weasley for me, in my absence?"

"Of course, Severus. It would be my privilege."

***

Picking up the phone, Cassandra said. "Hello?"

"Hi...is this..." On the other end of the line, the voice shaking. Young, female and sounded frightened. "Is-is this Cassandra?"

Sitting down heavily on the arm of the couch just behind her, a nervous sensation burning in her stomach, the witch swallowed hard. "Who...who is this and how did you get my number?"

"It's Ginny. Your...your friend gave me this...in case...P-Professor Dumbledore said I-I could use a muggle phone...I-I-I need to talk to someone..."

Cassandra's burning gut feeling got worse the moment she heard the frightened girl's name. "Ginny? Child?" She could feel her hands shaking around the receiver already. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"He...he's got someone else...he took them from the school..." Cassandra's eyes widened. A shaky breath was released. "I-I remembered everything...do...do you think he would do the same to them?"

"I don't know, Ginny."

"Professor Snape...he didn't know about it..."

"No..." Cassandra murmured. "He wouldn't. Voldemort knows what he's doing..."

She heard a muffled sniff. "Sorry I phoned...I just didn't have anyone else I could talk to about it..."

"Child, it's all right, really." Glancing out of the window in front of her, Cassandra sighed with relief at the sight of Alexander bounding along the path and towards the front door. "I don't mind."

"But you're meant to be hiding..."

"Hi mom!"

"Hi, sweetie." Accepting a peck on the cheek from Alexander, Cassandra smiled up at him. "Good night?"

"Yeah - we studied a whole lot in the library...or at least Willow and Buffy did." He grinned broadly. "I watched 'em studying...Buffy is so hot when she studies..." He noticed the phone. "Oh! You're taking a call! I'll go upstairs, kay?"

"Thank you, Alex." Chuckling as Alexander raced up the stairs, Cassandra turned her attention back to the girl on the phone. "Sorry about that. Alexander just got home from the library."

There was a moment's silence, then Ginny asked quietly. "Is that his son?"

"That's him." Cassandra nodded, feeling rather stupid when she remembered she didn't have to nod on the phone.

"He sounds so...normal."

Recalling who her only son spent almost all of his time with, Cassandra smiled slightly. "I wouldn't say he's exactly normal," She admitted. "But I wouldn't change him for all the gold in Gringotts."

"I can't believe he has a son...I mean, You-Know-Who..."

"No, you don't. You mean Tom." Cassandra recognised the sorrowful, bittersweet tone in Ginny's voice. "You really loved him, didn't you?"

"I think so." Ginny sounded so forlorn that Cassandra just wished she could be there for the younger woman to help her. "But then, I remember what he said to me...what he did to me..."

"It'll get easier, child, I promise."

"But when?"

Cassandra sighed. "That's the million dollar question, Ginny. No one knows, but it does get better."

There was a long silence, then Ginny quietly said. "I should go. Thank you."

"Its not a problem, little one."

"Thank you anyway. Could I...maybe phone you again some time?"

"Any time you want to, Ginny."

"Thank you...bye, Cassandra."

"Bye, Ginny." Placing the receiver back in the cradle, Cassandra stared at the phone for a long time.

Now, she knew, instead of just having one child to take care of as best she could, she had inherited another from the same source. The only real difference was that this one was broken, lost and in dire need of a mother figure who had been through something as painful as she had.

Shaking her head, Cassandra had to smile.

It was absurd, really.

Her precious son, Alexander LaVelle Harris, the son and Heir of Lord Voldemort, Darkest of all Dark Wizards, was voluntarily spending all his nights fighting the very thing his father was building up.

In the meantime, the girl who was becoming like a lost daughter to her, was still suffering pangs of love - clashing with the hate she knew she should feel - for the face of the boy that had been before Voldemort.

"All I wanted," Cassandra mused, as she wandered through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. "Was to have a decent, wizard husband, a nice house and a couple of kids to send to Hogwarts...and what did I get?" She switched the kettle on. "A drunken muggle husband, a demon-worshipping lover, the only son of the Darkest Wizard to ever walk the earth and a girl who was in love with the pre-dark-lord Dark Wizard looking to me like an agony aunt..."

Unable to withhold it, she started to laugh.

Yes, she was concerned about everything that was going on, but - by God - it was so bloody funny to look at her life and compare it to what she had written as her plans in her diary when she left school.

"Well," She chuckled, pouring boiling water into the mug on the counter. "I did say I wanted to do something interesting and you don't get much more interesting than my life." Sighing, she settled down on a stool by the counter.

Yes, it was crazy.

Totally and utterly mad.

***

Entering Voldemort's cavernous hiding place, Snape stopped short, bile rising in his throat at the sight.

So Death Eaters had been guilty of snatching little Dennis Creevey.

The muggle-born Gryffindor and his brother were probably two of the smallest boys in the school, Dennis marginally smaller than his elder brother. Despite the fact that he was fourteen, he could still pass for a first year.

That fact only made what Snape was seeing all the worse.

The boy looked like he had been severely beaten by the Death Eaters who were now lazing around the chamber, looking smug and pleased with themselves. He was curled in a pool of his own blood, on the floor, his face bruised and swollen.

From what Snape could tell, the boy was unconscious, which was probably a small blessing considering the mess he was in. The Potions Master was sure he could see a few wounds that could only be inflicted by a blade on the boy's thin form.

Urine had been sprayed over him, something that Avery and Nott took great pleasure in. What looked like dirt - but could be a less pleasant substance - was smeared in his hair and on his face, as well as some less-savoury looking fluids.

"Ah, Severus!" Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out. "I see you've spotted our Mudblood entertainment for this week."

Stepping down into the main hall, Snape was glad to be wearing the mask as Malfoy strode towards him. Assuming his Death Eater stance, he studied the boy. "How did you manage to grab this one without Dumbledore noticing?"

"We have my son to thank for that." The pride in Malfoy's voice was nauseating. "I didn't realise he had it in him, but he made one of the Mudblood's books into a Port Key and sent him here to us."

"Well, well...your son is certainly living up to expectations."

Malfoy nodded, practically vibrating with pride that his son had managed to do something Death-Eatery of his own volition. "Our Master is allowing us to keep him for entertainment for a short time."

"And then, death?"

"Severus," The mocking tone in Malfoy's voice made Snape want to punch him and hard. "You have such limited vision. Who better to take our Master's warning to Dumbledore and his filthy mudbloods than one of their own, barely alive."

"One of your ideas, no doubt..."

"Of course!"

The Potions Master was hard-pressed to quash a snicker. Snape knew for a fact that Lucius Malfoy seldom had an original idea in his pretty head, usually relying on his frighteningly imaginative wife to come up with plans for the Death Eaters.

"I suppose I'll leave you to your games, unless I am vitally needed."

"Always squeamish, eh, Severus?" A jovial arm was flung about his shoulder. Snape glared at it until Malfoy wisely lifted it away. "Well, I suppose it does give us more entertainment, with one less to share it with."

"Indeed." Turning, Snape started back towards the wall that served as a door.

Stepping through the black wall, he ripped his mask off and vomited violently on the ground, grateful that the hidden entrance was through the outer back wall of the Malfoy's country home.

As he did after every time that he was in the presence of the other Death Eaters, Snape wished that he had never joined them, wished that he had never been damn-fool enough to let Voldemort's silky words penetrate his ear.

Unfortunately for him, though, the mark burned into his arm reminded him that it was too late for regrets.

All he could do now was try and salvage some grace from his fallen position and save the few before many were destroyed.

***

Two weeks passed quickly enough, the Creevey family going out of their minds with fear for their younger son's well-being.

Despite Professor Dumbledore's reassurances that he would be found, his parents didn't seem convinced, on the verge of removing their older son, Colin, from Hogwarts despite his protest that he only had months more before he finished school.

So, when the boy did reappear, quite a few people were surprised.

Hagrid found him.

Bloody and barely able to keep himself upright, the boy stumbled into the grounds, when the huge Groundskeeper was on patrol on the outskirts of Hogwarts. He tottered towards Hagrid, grabbing at the part-Giant's moleskin coat.

His face was smeared with dirt and dried blood, his eyes darting in every direction as if expected someone to run out and grab him at any moment. A few cuts and bruises marked his cheeks and his black robes were torn and filthy.

"I have to see Professor Dumbledore." He gasped hoarsely, before keeling over.

Hagrid, without ministry permission to do magic, was forced to resort to manual labour, hoisting the boy's form up in his arms as gently as he could, little Dennis's eyes staring up at him desperately.

"Please...I need to see the Head master..." He whispered.

"Righ', Creevey..." Hagrid nodded as he started the trek towards the school, trying not to jolt the boy too much. "Firs' we'll get ye to Madam Pomfrey, then ye can see Professor Dumbledore."

"No!" The shrill vehemence in the boy's voice startled the care of Magical Creatures Teacher. "I-I have to see him...have a message...told to give it to him...please...have to see him..." The speech seemed to exhaust the boy and he sank back in Hagrid's arms, panting and breathless.

"All righ', all righ'." Studying the boy's thin features, Hagrid frowned. "If yer sure."

His eyes closed lightly as he tried to get his breath, Dennis smiled weakly up at the teacher. "Thanks... Hagrid..."

Fortunately for both of them, most of the students were in their classes, so no one saw the enormous figure striding through the halls, a smaller one cradled in his arms like a baby.

Reaching the Gargoyle, Hagrid growled the password, ascending the long, winding staircase towards Dumbledore's office at the top of the tower, the door opening before they even reached it.

"Hagrid?"

"Professor Dumbledore, sir." Bending a little to step through the doorframe into the room, Hagrid straightened up. Dumbledore immediately spotted Creevey, his body seeming to relax a little. "Found this little fella near the outside of the grounds. He wanted ter talk ter ye."

"Of course..." Motioning for Hagrid to place the boy in the large, comfortable chair in front of the desk, the Head Master came around his desk, carefully avoiding the pile of ash on the floor, which concealed the featherless and squeaking Fawkes. "Mr. Creevey?" The boy nodded, shivering. The Professor quickly draped a spare robe around his thin shoulders. "Perhaps you would care for a piece of chocolate?"

"Th-thank you, Sir." He whispered hoarsely, accepting a piece.

"Hagrid, would you so kind as to go and fetch Severus, Poppy and Minerva for me?"

"Of course, Sir." With a half-salute, Hagrid made his way back out onto the winding stairway, to follow Dumbledore's instructions.

***

"Are you all right, Ginny?"

The red-haired witch looked up from her homework at Hermione.

Since her 'ordeal' as many of her teachers were prone to call it, she had been having private classes on a regular basis, which meant she was in the common room on her own while the rest of her year group were in class.

"I'm okay." She tried to smile, but had the distinct feeling that Hermione could see right through it. "I-I...I'm just working on Arithmancy..." She pointed down at the scroll in front of her.

"Oh! That's my favourite subject." Like Ron, Hermione was one of the few people who still treated her like a normal human being, as opposed to some kind of fragile object to be treated with care. "Can I see what you're working on?"

Nodding, Ginny managed a genuine smile as the frighteningly smart Head Girl sat down beside her at the small, round table and she started pointing out where she was having trouble.

"I can see why you'd have problems here." Hemione agreed, grabbing an ink-free quill and pointing out some of the equations. "You see here, you've taken too much from this side..." Her words trailed off, as she glanced at the window. "What the...?"

Ginny looked up from her scrolls, confused, as Hermione scrambled to her feet and ran to the window of the common room. "What is it?"

The Head Girl turned sharply. "You stay here, Ginny." She ordered sharply, her face pale, her voice clipped. "I need to go and see Professor Dumbledore."

"But what is...?"

"Stay here!" Hermione called back, as she scrambled out of the portrait hole.

***

"Ah, Professor Snape!" Halfway down the corridor, on the way to the dungeons, Snape turned at Hagrid's voice mentally sighing.

The last time Hagrid had talked to him, he had ended up with a broken tooth after politely trying one of the Giant's rock cakes. It seemed that no one had ever told Hagrid that you didn't actually use rocks.

"Professor Dumbledore told me to find ye, Professor."

"Oh?" Leaning back slightly to look at the taller man, Snape raised a brow. "And did he say what it was about?"

Glancing around to make sure none of the passing children were listening, Hagrid leaned a little closer, speaking in a low growl. "It's about Dennis Creevey." He said softly. "He's with Dumbledore righ' now."

"He's back?" Snape was torn between relief and shock.

"Yep. Found him meself by the Dark forest..." He nodded down the corridor. "An' now, I have ter go and get Professor McGonogall and Madam Pomfrey, so if ye'll excuse me, Professor."

Snape nodded, hurrying in the opposite direction, wondering what condition the boy was in.

After all, the last time he had attended one of the Death Eater conventions, shortly after Creevey had been abducted, the boy was unconscious, bloody, weak and - all in all - looked more dead than alive.

Nearing the gargoyle that concealed the entrance to Dumbledore's office, Snape leapt back in surprise as the Gargoyle sprang open of it's own accord, revealing the staircase and...

The Potions Master surprise increased tenfold.

Dennis Creevey flashed a wicked grin up at him, brown eyes flashing with crimson glee, then darted away.

"Oh shit!"

Racing up the winding staircase, his breath catching in his throat as he reached the top, he didn't wait to be invited through the open door of Dumbledore's office, running in and stopping short.

Dumbledore didn't look up.

His serene blue eyes were fixed on the large chair in front of him, his long fingers steepled in front of his chest. The expression on his face was one of deep sorrow and weary resignation.

"Headmaster?"

Still, Dumbledore didn't look up.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

Weak, vehement squeals from Fawkes, the Phoenix, were the only things that could be heard in the room.

His voice and hands shaking, Snape rounded the desk, kneeling down beside the Head master's seat. His fingers pushed aside Dumbledore's beard and he sought out the aged Professor's pulse.

Nothing.

"No..." Checking again, his breathing growing shallow, he shook his head. "No!"

Sitting back on his heels, his shaking hand slipping down to rest on Dumbledore's still arm, the other resting in his lap, Snape hung his head, tears stinging in his eyes, tears of frustration, shock and grief.

"What is it, Albus?" Professor McGonogall's voice sounded from the door and Snape lifted his head bleakly. The deputy Head Mistress looked at him in confusion, then seemed to identify the emotion in his eyes. "Oh God...Albus?" She ran to the other side of the desk, shaking the Head Master. "Albus? Albus, answer me!"

"He's gone, Minerva." Snape whispered tightly, staring up at her. Tears were rolling silently down the Potions Master's face. "He's gone..."

"No! NO!" Gripping Dumbledore's left hand, she shook her head. "No! He can't be!" Like Snape, tears formed in her eyes and were spilling rudely down her face. "He can't be...he can't...Albus...please..." Pressing her cheek against his still hand, she started to sob in earnest. "Albus, please...don't leave us..."

Swallowing hard passed the lump of granite that felt like it had formed in his throat, Snape rose up on his knees and lifted a hand to reverently remove Dumbledore's spectacles, folding them and placing them on the desk.

Footsteps clattered on the stairway outside the room, a third figure running into the room. "Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione Granger, panting and breathless, stood in the doorway. "I saw the Dark Mark over..."

She trailed off as Snape lifted his hand again and gently closed Dumbledore's glassy blue eyes, the twinkle that had always been there snuffed out forever. McGonogall's sobs were growing harsher by the minute.

When Hermione spoke again, it was in a very small voice. "Professor Dumbledore?"

Slowly standing up, Snape approached the girl, who was staring at the Head Master with the same incredulity that he felt. Everyone knew - or at least had believed - that Dumbledore was indestructible.

"Miss Granger." He said softly. "Perhaps we should inform the teaching staff?"

Brown eyes tore away from Dumbledore and the sobbing McGonogall. "He..." She shook her head. "He can't be..." She whispered, disbelief written on every line of her face. "He...he can't..."

Laying a hand on the girl's shoulder, he nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that he can be, and is, Miss Granger."

"H-how?"

Snape pressed his eyes closed for a long moment. "You-Know-Who." He said unsteadily, knowing that the devilish grin on the face of Dennis Creevey on the stairs no more belonged to the boy than the killing curse he had used.

"No..." As Minerva had, the Head Girl seemed to crumple under the news. Her legs dropped out beneath her and she sat on the floor, shaking her head, repeating like a mantra. "No...no...no..."

When the sob finally came, she buried her face in her hands and didn't fight when black-robed arms circled her, rocking her and a soft, silky voice - rough with tears as well - whispered soothingly to her.

Amid a pile of ashes on the floor, as the three wept for the death of Albus Dumbledore, a newly reborn Phoenix let out a single quavering wail that resonated in the air and vibrated through the very walls of Hogwarts.

That was the very moment that everyone in the school knew, somehow, what had happened.

For the first time in Hogwarts' History, there was absolute silence.

Chapter 9: The Grief

Preparing dinner for her family, Molly Weasley hummed to herself. Potatoes were boiling merrily in the pan on the stove, the savoury smells of roasting meat wafting out of the oven.

The fire was crackling in the hearth and she glanced at the clock that stood in the living room, but was visible from the empty kitchen. Arthur, Bill Charlie and Percy were all at work, while Fred and George were in the position classed as 'Leisure'.

The two youngest were still at school, no doubt.

She returned to her cooking, adding some more salt to the potatoes with her wand and conjuring up a simmering pan of thick gravy.

A ding from the clock suggested that someone was on their way home.

She looked around to see who it was, only to find Arthur and Percy both standing in the doorway of the living room. Percy looked shaken and pale and Arthur's face was as white as a sheet.

Crossing the kitchen floor, he grabbed his wife in a tight embrace, startling her.

"Arthur, what...?" She managed to croak.

She felt a shaking breath get exhaled next to her ear. "Dumbledore, Molly..." He whispered, his voice hoarse. She pulled back, staring up at him, her wand slipping from her hand as she met his eyes. "You-Know-Who...he got to the school..."

"No..." Arthur's hands were resting on her shoulders and she noticed absently that they were shaking. And that tears were spilling down her face. Her eyes flicked to Percy, who was hugging himself and looked on the verge of tears.

"Word..." Arthur drew a steadying breath, still gripping her shoulders. "Word just came in from Minerva...from the school..." He took several more breaths, swallowing hard. "They...he was in his office...You-Know-Who had used polyjuice...got into the school...to the office..."

"That's not right." Molly whispered, staring up at him, shaking her head slowly. "It isn't right, Arthur...it can't be right...there must be a mistake...he...he might have just been sleeping...mightn't he?" The desperate hope in his wife's voice caused tears to well up in his eyes again and he pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. She continued to whisper despairingly. "Not right...not right at all..."

"M-mum?" Percy's shaking voice made them break apart and she found her third son standing at her elbow, his eyes looking huge in his pale face. He sounded like he did, when he had woken from a nightmare as a child. Only this nightmare wasn't one that was about to end. "Dumbledore...he's really g-gone, isn't he, mummy?"

Unable to word her response, she gathered one of her full-grown boys in her arms, pressing her eyes shut the stem her fresh tears as he seemed to go limp, sobbing bitterly on her shaking shoulder.

Another ding from the living room was echoed by Bill's voice.

"The filthy bastard can't get away with this. Not doing that to old Dumbledore." He shouted savagely, storming through into the kitchen, where his parents and brother were. Slamming the new edition of the Daily Prophet on the table, he sent a furious look at his father. "They say the Ministry isn't going after him, dad. Is it true?"

Arthur nodded wordlessly.

"Those god-damned political arsewipes!" His eldest son snarled angrily. "Dumble was the one who held this World together and they aren't even going to try and stop the one who did it! This is why he became so bloody powerful last time! No one did a single bloody thing to stop him when they had the chance!"

"Bill, it isn't that simple." Arthur tried to say, but his eldest was having none of it.

"You know what?" Pointing a finger from his father to his mother, Bill continued doggedly. "I bet Fudge is working for You-Know-Who! I bet he's the one who said that no vengeance was to be taken, because it would hurt his master!"

"William Weasley!" His father's voice rose angrily. "How dare you say such a thing about the Minister of Magic!"

"Don't you William me, dad! You know what Fudge is like!"

Arthur Weasley stepped up to his son, standing on level height with him. "I know that he has made some serious errors in judgement in the past, William, but would you have him send a troop of Aurors off on a suicide vengeance mission?"

"If it stops You-Know-Who, yes!" Bill's face was scarlet with rage. "After what he did to Ginny, how can you even think about letting them sit on their hands and do sod all, dad? I thought you..."

"Stop it!" The cry came from Percy, jerking out of Molly's arms. His usually-perfect hair was mussed, his glasses askew, but he stared at his brother despairingly. "Just stop it! This isn't going to help!"

"What would you know, Perce?" Bill demanded fiercely, rounding on his younger brother. "You work behind a desk, doing exactly what you're told, kissing all those fancily-robed arses and hoping you'll get promoted!"

"William!" To her husband's surprise, Molly slapped her son across the face. Bill was stunned, too, raising a hand to his cheek. "Don't you ever speak to your brother like that again, do you hear me?" Her finger was pointed at him warningly. "This is just what You-Know-Who wanted to happen, don't you see?"

"But, mum..."

"No buts, William." Her tone softened a little "We're all a little on edge now..." She gathered him in her arms and hugged him tightly. Bill nodded against her shoulder, swallowing hard. Pushing him back a little, she framed his strained face with her small hands. "We are going to get through this, you know. We always do."

"Molly," Arthur's voice shook and she followed his line of sight. He was staring into the living room. "What about Ginny?" He asked, pointing to the clock that stood on the far side of the room.

More importantly, he was pointing at the hand that read 'Virginia', which was moving rapidly around the face from 'School' to 'Mortal peril' ...

***

Running down the darkened corridors, tears streaming down her face, Ginny covered her ears with her shaking hands, trying to block out the words that her own classmates had said to her.

Stumbling through the dimly-lit passages that led to the dungeons, the air getting colder by the second, she briefly ducked into Professor Snape's empty chambers, the continued onwards, pulling her robes tightly around her as she almost tripped on a long flight of stairs.

Did they all think she was the one who had helped You-Know-Who in?

She couldn't think of him as Tom anymore, not after what had happened.

She had been one of the first to find out, when Harry - almost carrying the sobbing Hermione - had climbed through the portrait hole and into the room, his own eyes swimming with tears.

Then, her classmates had returned.

Grief had rapidly turned into bitterness and malicious anger.

Fingers were quick to be pointed at the frightened girl who had been You-Know-Who's prisoner for almost four months the year before and yet, she had managed to come back physically unscathed from her experience.

How, they had asked, had she come back without so much as a mark on her?

She hadn't explained, couldn't find the nerve to admit it, couldn't find the voice to say it, backing away as they crowded in on her, her brother and Hermione nowhere to be seen to aid her.

Accusations had flown thick and fast and she had run to the portrait hole, flinging herself out and running as fast her feet could carry her, determined to get away. Away from the memories of Tom, of what he had done to her, from the faces, the voices...

Voldemort's Whore...

That's what they had called her...

Her foot caught on a loose stone and she yelped as the floor gave way into a flight of stairs, which she tumbled down, crying out in pain as she crashed in a heap on the stone floor at the base.

Scrambling to her feet, her right ankle almost going out from beneath her with a lancing pain, she tottered onwards, determined to get as far as she could from the main part of the school.

No one would stop her this time.

She would be finished with it.

This was the one way that she could guarantee to wipe away all of their vicious taunts, their cruel, angry words, the memories of her ordeal at Lord Voldemort's hands, the dreams...

No more dreams of Tom seducing her, then making her do terrible things to her fellow pupils.

No more waking from nightmares in which she had a knife - sharp and deadly - slicing into the bodies of her family as Tom applauded and told her she was showing her love for him.

No more waking, screaming, convinced that her face had assumed the snake-like features of Voldemort, believing that blood from her murders staining her arms up to the elbows, convinced she revelled in sharing Voldemort's bed.

No more anything.

Panting, she came to a halt in a pillared hallway, cylindrical black columns of stone polished to a sheen, flaming torches flaring to life as she neared, hung in brackets on every second pillar.

The flickering flames in the torches reflected in the grim black stone made her shudder, memories washing over her of her imprisonment. The stone floor was also black, reminding her horribly of...there.

Limping between the pillars, she looked around warily.

As far as she could see, there was no one present.

Sinking down against the far wall at the end of the dark room, she reached into her cloak and withdrew a small bottle, studying it.

Ever since she had been befriended by Professor Snape, his supplies cupboard had always been left unattended when she was present. She was one of the people that he trusted not to steal his ingredients.

How wrong he was.

Removing the cork from the tiny glass vial, her nose wrinkled at the sour aroma that rose from the thick, dark green substance in the bottle. It had the texture of congealed oil and she knew it would probably taste as bad as it smelt.

Raising the bottle to her lips, she was about to swallow the fluid, when a calm, quiet voice spoke from above her.

"Are you sure that is wise, Miss Weasley?" The voice sounded so understanding, so sad and so genuinely concerned, Ginny reluctantly looked up. "Poison does tend to be awfully deadly, you know."

***

"Ginny! Oh, goodness, Ginny!" A plump, white-faced witch hurtled across the medical wing towards the bed that her only daughter lay in, tucked under white sheets and thick red blankets. Grabbing the sixteen-year-old in a fierce embrace, Molly felt her daughter's convulsive shudder and held her tightly. It lasted but a moment, then Ginny was held back at arm's length and given a shake. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I'm sorry, mum..." Brown eyes sought out Molly's, both pairs as red-rimmed as one another's. "I...everyone was saying such horrible things...about me...that it was me... and I was scared...and..." She turned her face away from her mother, her nose and eyes screwing up, silent tears leaking down her cheeks.

Wrapping her arms around her daughter again, Molly quashed all need for any other words, smiling tearfully as Ginny returned the hug.

Her little girl looked like a shadow of herself, her elfin face white and ghost-like, her brown eyes haunted as they had been the previous year. Blotches of colour on her cheeks showed that she had been crying a great deal.

That was what made Molly hurt the most: seeing one of her many precious children in such a state.

She had come to Hogwarts with Arthur, as soon as they had looked at the clock, and were clearly not the only parents, many arriving, taking their children and departing as quickly as possible.

By the time they arrived at the panic-stricken school, Ginny had already vanished from the common room, her classmates uncaring of where she was, so teachers were sent on a frantic search for her.

She was discovered in one of the lower dungeons by Hagrid, who had been ordered there by Snape, who had been on his way out of the school grounds and stopped to tell the gate-keeper what to do, before vanishing.

The flame-haired girl had been slumped against the carved black stone of the wall in a dead faint, a small bottle gripped in her hands, the contents of which seemed to be eating a hole in the stone floor.

Tenderly scooping the frail girl up, Hagrid had taken her straight to the hospital wing where her anxious parents waited, Molly sitting and sobbing, Arthur pacing back and forth in weary frustration.

McGonagall had been forced to stun Arthur, when Madam Pomfrey refused to let them into the wing, the red-haired wizard trying to charge the doors, determined to see his little girl.

Pomfrey had been adamant, though.

Ginny's parents were told they would only be allowed in almost an hour after the girl had been brought, shortly after she had finally regained consciousness. One person briefly pausing at her drapes before being taken off for treatment while her mother was permitted to enter.

At the edge of the medical wing, almost concealed from view and unnoticed by either of the Weasleys, that same figure sat silently, as horrific cuts on his arms were healed up by Madam Pomfrey's potions.

The Hogwarts' matron knew a little of what his employment entailed and if she had not, the Dark mark burned in his arm should have given her sufficient notice. As always, she had the responsibility of getting his body all back in one piece.

Mind was another matter.

Snape had been called to his 'Master' shortly after the body had been discovered and a new and...entertaining form of torment was awaiting him.

As soon as he arrived in Voldemort's domain, he was handed a knife and told to join in with the ritual execution of several ministry wizards who had proved too strong for the Imperio curse.

His bared arms unfortunately coming a little too close to the other Death Eaters enthusiastic blades, while his had barely skimmed the flesh of their unfortunate victims, until said victims were already dead.

He would never be responsible for being the cause of death. Mutilating the body he could almost bear, but murdering the unfortunates in such a bloody, savage way, it was against his very nature.

Around a dozen of the higher Ministry officials had been snatched exactly at the moment that uproar had broken out, when the news of Professor Dumbledore's death had reached them.

With various ministry workers vanishing to check that their loved ones were all right, no one noticed that a large number just disappeared as soon as a trusted fellow witch or wizard passed them by.

Port Keys and a new bi-apparation spell that Voldemort had developed were used to snatch the unfortunates, no one even aware of what was going on. It was done with such swiftness and secrecy that Snape doubt anyone would be aware of it.

Apparently, the rest of the ministry people who had been snatched - the ones who survived the butchering - had been sent back to their work places, bound solidly under the controlling curse, their leashes now held by Lord Voldemort.

Snape felt sick.

It had been so easy for the Dark Lord.

In less than half an hour, Voldemort's greatest enemy had been wiped out by his own disguised hand and some of the top wizards in the Ministry were securely under his control.

Who, he wondered bitterly, would he report to now?

One of his allies was dead, another under the Dark Lord's spell and the third...well, as she would no doubt find out, it was going to take a lot more to convince anyone in the Ministry of anything anymore.

Sighing, as Madam Pomfrey finished bandaging his hands, he leaned back against the wall behind him, his half-closed eyes drifting to the youngest Weasley, who was now - no doubt - receiving a lecture from her mother.

He remained where he was, watching the display of maternal concern and affection with absent fascination, wondering if he would have become the way he was, had his mother been more like Molly Weasley.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall slipped into the room and approached Mrs Weasley, apparently asking her to join her. Pressing a kiss to Ginny's forehead, the plump witch hurried after Professor McGonogall.

Checking that Madam Pomfrey wasn't about to run in and demand him lie down and rest, Snape glided across the floor, sitting down on the edge of Ginny Weasley's bed, the girl's eyes opening the moment he sat.

"P-Professor Snape."

"Severus, child." He said quietly. "You know that."

She nodded, looking away from him. "I-I'm sorry..."

"For what, child?" She shook her head, her hair tousled around her face, unable to reply, a tiny whimpering sound coming from her throat, as if she were about to burst into tears, but didn't want to. "Oh, child." Opening his arms, he let her burrow into his chest. "It wasn't your fault."

"Th-they all said it was."

"They don't know what they are talking about, child." His hand smoothed her hair and he sighed. "They spoke in fear and anger. They have no one to strike out at, so they chose you, unfortunate child."

"It...its bad...its all bad..."

Placing a gentle kiss on top of her bowed head, Shape laid his cheek against her flaming hair. "I wish I could say something to reassure you, child." He said quietly, his voice sad. "I wish I could help you."

"I-I was really going to do it." She whispered shakily. Snape could feel her small fingers gripping against his back and soothingly rocked her. "I-I would have...if he hadn't told me not to..."

"He, child?" The Potions Master didn't look around as Madam Pomfrey approached them, a goblet of a powerful sleeping draught held in her hands. He took it easily from the matron, waving Madam Pomfrey away. "Who is he?"

"He told me I shouldn't..." Ginny's quiet sobs were trailing off. "He said so." She didn't fight as Snape negotiated her back against the pillows and helping her drink the potion, her small hands enclosing the one of his that held the goblet.

"He was right, child." His other hand rising to cradle Ginny's cheek, her red hair spilling like silken threads over and between his fingers, he placed the goblet on the table behind him. "Can you tell me who he was?"

The potion took effect quickly, but Ginny still gazed at him tearfully, one hand coming up to grip his hand on her cheek, her speech slurring. "He said it poison was deadly... said it wasn't wise...I-I didn't want to upset him..."

"Who, child?"

Bleary brown eyes stared at him, drifting out of focus. A single word slipped past her lips before she sank back on the bed, asleep. A word that made Snape's eyes widen and a soft curse escape him.

"Dumble...dore..."

***

Alexander was sitting on the sofa in front of the television, glaring at a bowl of cereal when his mother entered the room, carrying a basket of fresh laundry, placing it on the arm of the sofa next to him.

"Good morning to you too."

"Oh...hey, mom." He didn't look up, glaring more emphatically down into his bowl of some kind of soggy cereal.

"I know its almost vacation time, but you don't have to start acting like a caveman just yet." She waited for a response, but he seemed fixated on the bowl in front of him. "So what happened that put you in such a good mood?"

"Huh?"

One hand on her hip, the other supporting the laundry basket, Cassandra studied him. "I would prefer it if you looked at me when I'm talking to you, Alexander LaVelle Harris."

Reluctantly, Alexander looked up at her, revealing a black eye. "It's not as bad as it looks." He hastened to say.

"What happened, Alex?" Uncaring of the laundry and whether it remained upright or not, she lifted his chin and studied the bruise, a gleam of anger shining in her dark brown eyes.

"Friends of Buffy's boyfriend." He muttered darkly.

"And you were fighting for her honour?" Alexander didn't answer, turning back to his bowl of cereal. Sighing, Cassandra mussed his hair. "What am I going to do with you?" She asked, making her way towards the front door, someone knocking.

Alexander made no reply, so she turned her attention to their guest.

Opening the door, a plump woman stood there, holding a large folder. "Are you interested in becoming a Jehovah's Witness?" Cassandra shook her head politely, starting to shut the door. "Or how about subscribing to the Daily Prophet?"

"What?"

"Old Bones and what have you..."

Luckily, Cassandra managed to restrain herself from grabbing her lover-in-disguise and kissing him, as her son glanced over the back of the couch. "Who is it, mom?"

"No one in particular, son." Motioning Ethan into the house, she inwardly smiled as Alexander gave the form of an old woman a cursory glance, then announced that he was going to check that Buffy was all right.

The moment he was gone, Cassandra was hugging Ethan-in-old-lady form. She was still gripping him like that when he returned to his tall, lanky form, holding her as tightly as he could.

"I thought you were dead or something..." She began, but trailed off at the look on her lover's face. "Ethan?"

"You haven't heard?"

"H-heard what?"

Reaching into his somewhat baggy jacket, he withdrew a folded edition of the Daily Prophet, which was apparently several days old at least. Opening it out, he handed it to her, looking away.

Cassandra stared at the picture and headline in horror.

A somber-looking Hogwarts, overshadowed by a Dark Mark in the sky.

"Dumbledore Death - You-Know-Who to blame?"

"You...you can't be serious..." Cassandra stared at him desperately. Somehow, she had ended up kneeling on the floor. She couldn't work out how and, presently, didn't really care. "Dumbledore...dead?"

Nodding, Ethan looked around at her. "That's why I'm here." He said grimly. "If he has power enough to do that, in Hogwarts, in the Professor's own office of all places, I wanted to be sure that you would be safe." He knelt and held her in his arms. "I want to keep my eye on you and the kid, no matter what."

"How...how could he do it, Ethan?"

"Polyjuice." Cassandra shuddered against his chest. "Don't worry, Cassie. Even if he used it to walk around here, he would never see you or the boy, even if he was staring you in the face."

"But you don't know what it's been like here lately, Ethan." She whispered. "Bad things have been happening here...I heard something about the Harvest last summer... I looked it up and it was meant to be the opening of the Hellmouth...and now, demons are popping up all over the place..."

Looking around, Ethan tried to force a smile "If this is Hell, I've seen worse."

"The Slayer fights it all."

Pulling a face that suggested he thought she was being snobby, he put on a posh accent. "Oh look at us, darling, aren't we absolutely spiffy? We've got a Slayer, don't you know? All the rage in Paris..."

"Ethan, shut up. I'm serious."

"You actually have a Slayer in this town?"

Cassandra nodded. "And it gets better." She said quietly. "She's one of Alexander's best friends." Ethan cursed under his breath. "And her Watcher is a chap you used to call Ripper."

"Rupert?" He gaped at her. "A Watcher? A stiff-upper-lip nancying ponce with too many books and no sex life? You're pulling my leg! He never could have finished the training and everything else!"

"I saw him with the Slayer," She confirmed, smiling slightly at his reaction which was so much more dramatic than she had expected. "And he's got everything a proper English gentleman should have, including the stutter."

Holding her at arm's length, he shook his head. "To think my old summoning mate is one of things we used to annoy. We used to come up with ways to spring new demons on the council, he and I, and now he's one of them. We really have buggered up lives, you and I."

"I was thinking exactly the same thing when Ginny Weasley decided I was going to be her dial-a-minute agony aunt."

Making a phone shape with his right hand, Ethan chuckled. "Hello and welcome to the Nutters R Us talk show. Today's topic is Dark Lords and how to stop them simply shagging and making it work as a meaningful relationship."

"Ethan," Punching his arm, Cassandra smiled faintly. "That's not nice."

"Accurate, though."

"Well, yes, but still." Snuggling against him, she sighed. "What are we going to do, Ethan?" Her voice was shaking slightly. "I want to help them fight against him, but if I even thought about showing face, they'd either kill me or throw me in Azkhaban."

"I know how difficult this must be for you, Skeleton." She raised her eyebrows. "All right, maybe I don't, but you running around on a vendetta against Snake-Man won't help you or your boy."

"I feel so useless, Ethan. I can't do anything."

"Apart from fight his forces from this side."

"You what?"

Ethan nodded. "You heard. Haven't you noticed that there's been a lot of dark activity lately, even for a Hellmouth? You didn't think that it was coincidence, with Voldemort rising in power?" Cassandra stared at him. "Blimey, Cassie, don't you remember anything they taught you at Hogwarts?"

"I...I dunno..."

Sighing, he sat back a little from her. "All right," He said. "Its simple. If there's an increase in use of the dark arts by wizards, then the dark forces will be drawn to it and vice versa. Their darkness feeds his strength while they feed on his aura of power, not specifically on the power itself." Cassandra nodded that she was following. "As he grows stronger, more of them are going to join him, as long as he has power and as long as they go to him, he gets more powerful."

"I think I understood that." She hesitantly admitted. "You take away one and the other goes away too?"

"Something along those lines." He nodded. "You say that the Hellmouth's opening was prevented?"

Cassandra nodded. "Just this summer."

"That explains why your old man went quiet as soon as the school term finished last year." Ethan murmured thoughtfully. "There was meant to be a surge in darkness but when it was stopped, I'm guessing it was the same idea as a car running out of petrol, when it's used up more than it realised."

"So Voldemort uses vampires like a duracell bunny uses a battery?"

"Only he doesn't roam the world, banging an evil drum...although he may well start that when he gets enough power." The wizard scratched his chin, the stubble rasping against his fingertips. "Closing the Hellmouth meant that the power he expected was reduced. I think bumping off things that go bump in the night would probably affect him at least a little in the power circuit."

"So you're saying I should fight demons and stuff?"

"Nothing that drastic, but..."

"If my son can do it, I bloody well can!"

"Your...son?"

Smiling genuinely this time, Cassandra nodded proudly. "My little boy is helping the Slayer when she needs him. He has been for the last school year and a half, since she got here, as far as I can see."

Ethan snorted with laughter and it rapidly became a full belly laugh. "Bloody Hell..."

"What?"

"I..." Choking back his laughter, chuckles escaping him, he shook his head. "I would pay good money to see Voldemort's face if you told him that his only son and Heir has been killing the things that feed his power."

Chuckling, Cassandra held up a hand. "Imagine this, though," She suggested. "Alex trying to charm his way around Ripper with that big brown, puppy-dog eyes thing like I used to do to you..." Ethan snorted again. "Then, imagine telling Ripper that Alex is You-Know-Who's son."

A guffaw escaped the Wizard and he held his sides, shaking with laughter. "Now that would be funny. He'd be torn between running, screaming in terror or researching like crazy."

"Yeah...but, for now," She sighed, sobering. "I'm glad that Alex is just my little boy, just a plain muggle." She almost did smile. "Although, he hasn't noticed that I patch him up with magic when he comes back from the Slay-grounds. He just assumes that he's a fast Healer."

"You're a good mother, Cass."

"And you're a wonderful demon-worshipping God-father." She pressed against him, arms around his waist, his body much thinner than she remembered. "I don't want you to go away again, Ethan."

He smiled against her temple. "I'm not going anywhere, Cass, I promise. I'll drum up a little business here, catch up with Old Rupes, piss him off for old time's sake and we'll be all right."

"We better be." She mumbled, just letting him hold her.

Chapter 10: The Parting of Ways

Professor McGonagall strode into the deserted Great Hall, her eyes scanning the few pupils who remained. Her shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the eerie silence, her expression grim.

She had just returned from a brief sojourn to the Ministry and the situation there was as bad as she had guessed it would be.

Everywhere she had looked, wizards were trying to hold everything together, while being horribly aware that anyone they were working with, even themselves could be agents of the Dark Lord.

People were silent, work being done with haste. The usual chatter and bustle that frequently filled the offices had all but dried up, everyone casting surreptitious and suspicious glances at their neighbours, lest they be betrayed.

After persuading Cornelius Fudge that she was truly acting of her own volition and giving him the lecture she had longed to for years, she had been granted permission to return to Hogwarts with orders for any of the old groups she could get hold of.

Still, despite all her assurances, Fudge seemed to trust her about as far as he could throw a muggle bus without magic.

However, her interests did not lie with making a good impression on the ignorant and generally useless Minister of Magic, but centrally with protecting the remaining pupils of Hogwarts.

The size of the Great Hall and the fall in the numbers still resident made the building look even bigger and the figures more insignificant. Less than thirty pupils remained and every one of them still looked dubious about their decision to stay.

They were grouped together in a frightened mass at the end of the hall. Every pair of eyes had swung to the door the moment McGonagall had entered, the initial panic giving way to immediate relief.

Once again, there was silence.

The banners in the Hall were all black, out of respect for the dearly missed Head Master, who had been laid to rest on the high banks of the lake only days earlier. It had only seemed right that he had buried in the place he had loved with every fibre of his being.

His grave was marked with a simple headstone, elaborate gold lettering etched in the white marble, which Professor McGonagall knew would be lovingly cared for as if it were Dumbledore himself.

The few that remained at the school had emerged for the quiet funeral on the lakeside, even the ghosts and house elves. Several former teachers and a few braver friends joined them.

It came as no surprise that Cornelius Fudge, the Minister, claimed he was 'otherwise engaged' and could not come to the school, where Voldemort seemed to have taken to finding fresh victims.

However, those who resided on the grounds made their presence felt.

Centaurs came out of the dark forest, bringing with them Unicorns and some of the other mystical creatures that Dumbledore had granted sanctuary there. A pair of satyrs played a sad tune on their wind pipes, the Mer-people rising from the lake to pay tribute to the fallen Wizard.

It had been a sorrowful day, knots of pupils weeping together, the teachers present unashamed to join them. However, it also gave them the strength and resolve to continue the fight where Dumbledore had left it.

Quieter, though still as touching, the funeral for Dennis Creevey had been held shortly after the Head Master's. His body had been dumped on the edge of the school grounds after Voldemort had finished with him.

The boy looked like he had suffered a lot before the killing curse granted him peace.

At the request of his muggle parents and wizard brother, the boy was buried in the school grounds in one of the places that he had loved best, near the Quidditch field.

Only a few Gryffindors were in attendance, including the Gryffindor Trio, which had caused poor Mrs Creevey to weep, as she had clasped Harry Potter's hands, confiding how much Dennis worshipped him.

They had departed quickly, lest the murderer of their son was still close, but Colin had elected to stay, determined to finish what he had started, in spite of what had happened to his brother.

He was one of the few faces lining the Hall that McGonagall now paced.

The fear that seemed to fill the halls was hardly surprising, so much so that even Peeves silent for once.

Since the Headmaster's death and before the shockwaves that had rippled through the wizarding world had subsided, two more pupils had vanished from within the castle grounds before their parents could even summon them home, and a third was found dead by the lake.

All three had been muggle-borns.

Only one muggle-born witch and one wizard remained.

The rest had all fled back to their muggle homes, far from the world of magic and most importantly, far from the school, which - they believed - was certainly a lot safer than being at Hogwarts was at the present time.

Given the position as Head Mistress, Professor McGonagall had made it her duty to oversee the completion of Dumbledore's long-term wishes, despite wanting nothing more than to hide herself in one of the highest rooms in the tallest towers and weep until she had no tears left.

After all, she had known Albus since she - herself - had attended Hogwarts, so many years before. He had helped her learn transfiguration so well that he actually assigned her as the teacher for it, when he received the exalted post of Headmaster.

Approaching the top of the Great hall, where the Prefects and Seniors were standing, she stopped in front of the Head Girl, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, one of a small knot of seniors that remained.

"What's the news from the Ministry?" Professor Lupin asked. He had returned to the school almost immediately after Dumbledore's death, while many of the other teachers fled in a panic.

He looked more tired than he ever had when he had taught at Hogwarts, but he was determined to protect the school, along with the other half a dozen teachers who remained, grim-faced but equally resolved.

All of them looked tense and drawn and, judging by the decor of the hall, they had been keeping tabs on the pupils by sleeping in the Great Hall with all of them, lest You-Know-Who attempted another kidnapping.

McGonagall's lips thinned when she observed that Professor Snape was no longer present with the other members of teaching staff.

Where he had gone, she had no doubts.

He and Professor Dumbledore had confided in her the details of his double-sided mask shortly after they had heard of Lord Voldemort's resurrection, lest anything should happen to either of them.

Part of her both cursed and blessed their foresight, but now, her attention had to be on her pupils and the school.

"They have no plans to aid us, as yet." The Head Mistress stated gravely. "They did not believe that such a thing would happen, so now, they have been given this unpleasant wake-up call. Everyone in the Ministry is under suspicion and I certainly was not as welcome as I had been in the past."

"But they have to do something!" Granger protested. She looked as drawn and exhausted as the teachers. "They can't just leave the school open and ready for You-Know-Who to just walk in and take over."

Professor McGonagall shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid it is too late for that, Miss Granger." She said. "In my opinion, I believe that they already think the school a lost cause, so they do not want to waste their valuable time in trying to save it, since there is little left to save."

"There's always something to save!" Colin Creevey said emphatically. "Professor Dumbledore would have wanted this school to go on, even after he..." He trailed off and looked around the Great Hall. "I don't believe he'd want it to be abandoned."

"That is what I informed the Ministry of, Mr. Creevey." McGonagall said quietly. "I am afraid that they do not share our opinion." She sighed wearily. "They believe that a school without pupils is impossible to save, no matter how much we protest."

"But the deaths! Surely they have to do something!" Professor Flitwick's face bore a look of betrayal and disbelief that the Ministry could be so callous. "They could still protect what we have left!"

"Their argument," The Head mistress said grimly. "Is that if we wish to protect the children, we should send them all away, never to return. We would seal the school and leave it in that state until Voldemort is defeated."

"Unless he takes over and starts a new school for the Dark Arts." Professor Sprout put in angrily. "The Ministry doesn't know what they're talking about!"

"Is there a chance that he will try and take over?" The question was voiced by one of Granger's two closest friends, Harry Potter. McGonagall almost smiled. He looked determined and defiant, just like his father in many ways.

Although, the Phoenix that perched upon his shoulder certainly wasn't something that James would have tolerated easily.

"He could achieve it with ease at present, Potter, unless we find some way to prevent it." Professor McGonagall said, watching as he brought Fawkes down on his forearm, stroking the bird's fluffy, regrowing plumage.

It had surprised her when the newly reborn Phoenix had crawled across the floor to Harry, as soon as he entered the tower office, to take the sobbing Hermione back to her dormitory only a few days previously.

Without question, the young man had gently scooped up the tiny, bald creature. He had turned to Dumbledore, where he rested in his seat, and - causing McGonagall to break down again - had said. "Don't worry. I'll take care of him, Professor."

Somehow, there was a bond between boy and bird.

Something...

Something she knew was significant but couldn't quite remember.

"All of you," She called, clapping her hands to get the attention of the group of teenagers. "As you can see, there are few of us left. In houses, I want you to go up to your dormitories - staying together - and collect anything you should need and bring it down here. This will be where we work and live. Anyone who does not accept this arrangement, you are welcome to return home."

Silence greeted this statement.

"Very well, into your houses and go."

***

"What have you done?"

Kneeling in front of a statue in the back room of his costume shop, Ethan looked up guiltily at the fuming woman standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with ire.

"Um...Cassie...nice to see you in my humble shop..."

"Ethan..." She held up a finger. "I'm warning you. Tell me what you've done."

He gave her a hopefully-impish grin, but he had an odd-feeling that he looked more like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "Well, y'see, I hadn't played with chaos for a while..."

"Ethan."

"That mean's I'm in trouble, doesn't it?"

"My little boy is out there and I want to know that he's not in any danger." Dark brown eyes glared down at him. "You can have as much fun as you please, as long as Alexander isn't hurt."

"Ah...well...you see, he does have one of the cursed pieces of costume..."

"Ethan!"

"But he's safe! Really!"

"And how do you work that one out?"

He got up, motioning around the shop. "Each person becomes their costume and he was dressed as a soldier, complete with a gun. He'll be safe and so will the two girls that he's with."

"Two...girls?"

Nodding, the wizard grinned. "Pretty little red head with a ghost costume and a bottle blonde with an Eighteenth century damsel costume." Cassandra's face went white. "Is that bad?"

"Is that bad?" She echoed in disbelief. "Is that BAD?!? She's the bloody Slayer, Ethan! And you've turned her into a damsel in distress! As if raising dark powers isn't bad enough, you turn the only thing that can stop them into a swooning 'Lady'!" She froze as the bell on the front door jingled. "Finish it, Ethan." She hissed, before pulling the hood of her invisibility cloak up and vanishing. "Finish it now."

Ethan turned back to the statue, then sighed, shaking his head. "Only a little while longer." He muttered, sinking back into the shadows as footsteps approached the curtains, opening to permit a very familiar face to enter.

The wizard hid a smirk.

This was going to be interesting.

Rayne and Ripper reunited...

***

Pacing across the jet-black floor, Voldemort was acting like a caged beast. None of the Death Eaters dared to approach him in this humour, exchanging wary glances to one another around the room.

Since early that morning, he had been doing so. Most assumed that it was something to do with some power source drying up again, combined with the sheer frustration of the previous days.

"The school was meant to fall." He murmured, his face wrinkled in thought. "The loss of the Head Master was meant to shatter them completely."

"It...I thought it did, Sir..." One of the younger Death Eaters volunteered.

He was writhing on the stone-flagged floor, screaming in agony soon enough, as Voldemort reminded him why a rhetorical question was never meant to be answered in the circle of Death Eaters.

"Young fool." Stalking back to his throne, Voldemort swung around and sat down heavily, his long fingers drumming rapidly on the decorated arms of the high-backed seat. "I believed he was the heart of the school...my mistake...and so, the school still remains inhabited..."

"What...what do you intend to do, Master?" Malfoy asked carefully.

Voldemort leaned back, a pensive look crossing his reptilian features. "I suppose that I will take them a pupil at a time, if I have to, and bring their precious school down around them, stone by stone, to show them that their feeble hope and belief cannot save them."

"Why not hunt them down when they are away from the safety of the school?"

Sighing, Voldemort pointed his wand at the Death Eater who spoke and boredly said. "Crucio." When the man stopped screaming, the Dark Lord leaned forward on his throne. "What part of tearing their school down around them, stone by stone, to shatter their remaining faith did you misunderstand? The few that remain there are strong. I must break them, if only for sheer entertainment's sake."

"I-I beg your pardon, M-Master." Scrambling back to his position in the circle, the young Death Eater bowed deeply. "I simply did not understand the-the complexities of your plans."

"And you understand better now, I'll wager, hmm?" The man nodded desperately, his arms still shuddering from the pain. "It is rather surprising what a little pain can do for the memory, isn't it?"

No one dared to reply.

"Now, my Death Eaters, I suggest that you prepare yourselves." He slowly stood, his midnight black robes flowing around him, making him seem so much taller and more powerful. "Malfoy, see what our ...friends at the Ministry have found out."

The tall, lean man sloped out, his son at his heels.

"Avery," A white finger singled out the man. "See if you can't find dear Mundungus Fletcher. I would rather like to talk to him..." Avery made a sound like a combination of grunting and laughing.

A short, squat figure hurried forward. "My Lord, if I may beg your permission, I would like to bring you Black and Lupin."

"Don't be so foolish, Wormtail." Voldemort sighed, waving Peter Pettigrew with an imperious motion of his hand. "You have neither the wit or the capabilities to capture your former friends." One of Voldemort's long fingers caressed his own chin in thought. "However, assume your vermin form. See what the whispers are in Diagon Alley. Find out what the rumours are, lest there be any that may be of use."

A Ministry worker approached, bowing slightly. "What of me, Master?"

"You have one of the wretched Weasleys in your department, do you not?" Eyes glittered eagerly behind the grim mask. "They have always been a...difficulty we have never overcome." Voldemort unfurled his hand. "Go and see to it."

The younger Death Eater darted off, chuckling with malicious glee.

It went without saying that the Weasley family were not the most popular wizarding families in Voldemort's point of view, mainly because of their ambivalence regarding muggles and the barrier between the magic world and the muggle world.

Yes, their daughter had been fun to toy with, but...

It wasn't enough.

They were the strongest supporters of Dumbledore and probably would still be, so to break up their family, the loyal, unified mudblood-lovers, even if it took him days, weeks or months would be...

Smiling slightly, Voldemort sank back down onto his throne, his long hands flexing sensually around the velveteen padding on the crafted arms. Yes, he could be patient, but he would break them.

His attention shifted slightly, to the shadowy figure skulking on the sidelines.

Snape.

As always, the Potions Master of Hogwarts was a puzzle to the Dark Lord. Deadly and calculating, Snape was still strangely uneasy when it came to the more hands-on work, usually being the first to leave the scene while his contemporaries would stay and revel in the bloodbaths.

He could kill, the Dark Lord knew it well, but he preferred to see a clean death, as opposed to the bloody ones that many of the Death Eaters favoured. Many of them appreciated the agony they could inflict with a blade as well as a wand, sheerly to prolong the torment of their victim.

Oddly squeamish around freshly-killed bodies, he could artistically dissect the corpses barely hours later with a deftness that eluded many of the Dark Wizards and a coolness that had first drawn Voldemort's eye to him.

Those carefully dissected bodies were often the special...trinkets left outside the homes of families who had dared to stand against him, as a quiet warning.

More than once, Voldemort had concealed himself under an invisibility cloak to watch as the doors of a house would open, then the screams would start: the delicious screams, the pleas and the weeping.

Yes, an intact corpse would yield the same results, but seeing the body of a father, a mother, a sister, a friend, a lover...one lost but you hoped, imagined, prayed to anyone who listened that they would return safely...to find them mutilated so carefully that the skin of the face literally slipped off - like a grotesque mask - when you tried to close the glassy eyes...

Snape was quite simply an artist.

Not only did his skill with a blade fascinate Voldemort, but he could brew a poison to kill fifty people in one sitting or an antidote for the substances that the Ministry had tried to poison various Death Eaters with, during his previous reign.

"Severus."

And his name...

The hiss of the Potions Master's name on his lips simply felt evil.

"Master." Snape approached the low dais, dipping his head in as close to a bow as he was willing.

"I believe you have been keeping some contact with my Lady." The cloaked figure's shoulders tightened, causing Voldemort to raise a mental eyebrow. What was this? "I wish to hear from her, to receive some evidence that my Heir is thriving."

Snape's narrow shoulders slumped marginally, possibly with relief, something that Voldemort didn't miss, a look of intrigue flickering in his scarlet eyes.

"I will see what I can do, Master." Snape's silken voice came from behind the mask, slightly muffled.

"Be sure you do it successfully, Severus." Threat hung on his words. "I would hate to have to punish you." Snape nodded grimly and turned, walking straight out of the dark lair as quickly as possible.

Watching him go, the Dark Lord thoughtfully scratched the hollow of his cheek with the tip of his index finger. "Tell me, Nott," He murmured. "Does Snape seem to be a little distracted to you?"

"My Lord?"

Shaking his head, Voldemort smiled a thin smile. "Never mind, Nott." He said with a casual wave of his hand. He would not forget it, though, and should he need to verify Snape's loyalty...

The thin smile widened a millimeter.

Yes, he would remember.

***

"Evidence..."

Ethan nodded. "That's what Sev said and I think he means that in the sense that if he doesn't get it, there's going to be the Devil to pay." He grimaced. "This Devil being the one you had to shag and the one paying up with interest being Sev, in blood."

"Evidence." Cassandra repeated quietly, making her lover study her anxiously.

She hadn't been nearly as affectionate as she usually was around him. As soon as he had entered the house, she had motioned him to the seat nearest the Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the living room.

She had remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes dark and shadowed. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her lips straight, her expression severe.

"What does he mean by evidence?" She finally asked.

Ethan shrugged. "Photos, videos, anything I s'pose..."

Standing in the doorframe of the living room that lead to the hall and the front door, the little witch pressed her temple against the wood. "Shit..."

That definitely made Ethan raise a brow. In all the time he had known her, for her to swear was a rare and usually dangerous thing. "Cassie? Luv?" He started to rise, but she gestured him back down. "Is something..."

"I'm not letting him see what Alex looks like." She said flatly.

"So send him a picture of someone else."

There was a long silence and Cassandra nodded. "Right..." Entering the living room, she rounded the sofa that Ethan was sitting on and reached into the bookshelf that stood against the wall beside him, withdrawing a photograph album.

Standing up and leaning against the arm of the sofa, he watched as she withdrew a large picture of two dark-haired boys and the red head he recognised from the album, gazing at it for a long moment.

He recognised Alexander, but the other boy, he didn't know. The boy was clad in a black cloak and looked like he was ready to go out for Halloween, a sinister look on his face, while Alexander and the red head were pretending to be scared of him. It was clearly a few years old, but he doubted that You-Know-Who would observe that.

Closing the book with a thump, she slid it away and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ethan uncomfortably in the living room, studying the Christmas cards strung up here and there.

One of them caught his eye: in it, two snowmen were actually having a snowball fight and what made it noticeable was the fact that they were moving. Raising a brow, Ethan lifted the card down and read it. "Thank you for all your help and I hope things are better for you than they are here. Happy Christmas. Virginia."

"Here." Cassandra had returned from the kitchen, the photograph cut up, a message scrawled on the back.

The remnants of the photograph had the mysterious dark-haired teenager looking suitably ominous and grim. Alexander and the red haired girl had been trimmed off, so he had the appearance fitting the heir of a Dark Lord.

Turning it over, he scanned the message written in Cassandra's impeccably neat hand-writing. It announced that the Heir was well and that with the growth in darkness the world over, he was growing stronger.

Not entirely a lie, that.

"Thanks." He tucked it away in one of his many pockets. "I'll see that he gets it as soon as possible." Nodding to the card in his hand, he remarked. "So you got a Christmas card from the little Weasley?"

Cassandra snatched it from him. "I want you to leave."

Turning to look over his shoulder at his lover, Ethan received a scowl in return. "So what have I done, this time, Cassie?" He asked, turning fully to face her, spreading his hands helplessly.

"Eyghon?" Her arms crossed in front of her chest, her brown eyes narrowed at him, giving him an unspoken warning. "I overheard the kids talking about it. You've been summoning again, haven't you?"

"Um..."

"Well?"
"Here's the thing, Cass...as long as I was going to live, Eyghon was going to be part of me...me and the Ripper." He gave her a wry smile. "I thought it would be better to get rid of the demon, because he is so bloody powerful."

"So you were destroying him?"

"Trying." He smiled weakly. "You did say that red head was the Slayer, right?"

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "No. The blonde is."

"Oh shit..." Laughing in a very fake fashion, Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "I just thought she was a lively thing...I hope she doesn't hold the tattoo on her neck against me."

"Tattoo on her neck? Ethan, you didn't..."

"It was her or me, Cassie! Someone was going to die!"

"And you just chose the bloody SLAYER!"

Grimacing, he shook his head. "You make it sound like a bad thing, luv."

"What part of 'We're trying to defeat Voldemort by destroying the dark powers of the Hellmouth and NOT harming the Slayer' did you miss?" She yelled savagely. "All I want to do is protect my son and you keep pulling stunts like this!"

"Cass..."

She turned her back on him. "Get out."

"But Cassie, luv..."

Her voice was low. "I'm not in the mood for dealing with you, Ethan. Just go."

Reluctantly, the wizard nodded and walked towards the back door. "I really am sorry, Cass." She didn't even deign to look at him, a muscle in her cheek twitching, her eyes pressed closed. "You know where I am." He said, before quietly closing the door behind him.

***

For the first time in weeks, a new face appeared at Hogwarts, the charms set to protect the remaining pupils catching him off-guard and entangling him, before he had a chance to signal that he was a friend.

Liberated from the traps by Professor McGonagall, he had been ushered to the Great Hall, where all the pupils were, despite the fact that there hadn't been a kidnapping since they had drawn in the new security measures, almost eight weeks previously.

A few tables stood here and there, some beds floating high above the floor, ready to be drawn down when night fell. All the pupils and teachers still inhabited the Hall, the only place they were allowed to go alone, the bathrooms.

Groups sat at tables, some studying from text books, the teachers taking small study session with anyone still determined to finish their magical education. That was the scene that greeted the new arrival.

Brown eyes scanned around the Great Hall, Percy Weasley's glasses were askew, his robes tangled around his limbs. "Ginny!" He spotted his sister huddled between Harry Potter, his younger brother and Hermione Granger. "Ron!"

"Percy!" Scrambling to her feet, the youngest Weasley flew across the floor to him, hugging him tightly. "What are you doing here?"

Percy looked paler than she remembered, his lips thinning as their mother's did when she was worried or afraid. "There were rumours going round that Ministry that You-Know-Who was after one of us, so mum told me to come and hide here."

"I'm not sure this is the safest place to be, Perce." Ron had joined them. "But it's good to see you anyways."

Even though neither of the youngest Weasley children had ever been particularly close to their older brother, he was still family and having family around was always reassuring, especially with things as they were.

"How did you hear that..." Ginny shudder on the word, Harry's hand on her shoulder calming her. "Y-you-Know-Who was after someone in our family?"

Percy's face seemed to go a shade whiter and he nodded towards the table that the quartet had been occupying before his arrival. They hurried over to it and sat down, looking around to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed.

Ginny squeezed between Harry and Ron on one side of the table, while Percy and Hermione sat down on the seats opposite them, the group huddling together over the broad table.

"I shouldn't tell you this, but it'll probably come out sooner or later," He muttered softly, his voice shaking. "Someone working in my department turned out to be a Death Eater." Ginny gasped and Ron uttered a curse. "They caught him last week and he was sent to Azkhaban."

"Did he...y'know...try to do you in?" Ron asked. Like his brother, he looked pale.

Percy shook his head, his face going a funny shade of green at the memory. "He...he was given veritaserum at his trial and he said that he had been told by You-Know-Who to get one of us." Ron and Ginny both swallowed hard. "Dad and mum decided it was time for them to go into hiding and said I should come here."

"Why here?" Hermione asked. "Why not go with them?"

Percy shrugged. "I assume that mum wanted us as spread out as possible, but still together, if we're needed." He smoothed down the front of his black robes, picking a tuft of fluff of it. "Bill is off somewhere with Gringotts, so no one's heard from him for a while and Charlie is still with the dragons and Fred and George...who knows."

"Th-they'll be okay, won't they?"

Harry couldn't help smiling at the thought of Fred and George, who had left Hogwarts nearly two full years previously. "If any of your family'll be all right, it'll be those two, Ginny."

"Do-do you really think so?"

Hermione reached over to squeeze Ginny's shaky hand. "Absolutely." She sounded so confident that Ron and Harry almost believed her. "Now, if we could just get you over those tendencies of going to the dungeons..."

Ginny looked down at the table top for several seconds, then raised her eyes to Hermione. "I won't be going back down there again." She said. "Someone told me it wasn't wise, so I'm not going to do it."

"Don't tell me Snape told you it was a bad idea..." Ron rolled his eyes.

Ginny's eyes dropped again, but this time, it wasn't in shame. It was more like she was hiding something. "He did say that it was a bad idea." She admitted. "But it was someone else who changed my mind."

"And now, you're not going to tell us, are you?"

The girl gave her brother a small smile. "Not yet." She nestled against him. "Don't want you to think I'm completely batty."

His arm around her shoulder, Ron smiled, his cheek pressed against Ginny's flaming hair. "Ginny, I thought you were daft the minute you started to talk about Snape like he was a friend."

"Well, he is."

Crossing his eyes, Ron pulled a face. "See what I mean?" He exclaimed. "Barking!"

For the first time in weeks, laughter rang around the rafters of the Great Hall, as a bird flew across the sky-blue enchanted ceiling, the winter sun shining brightly in on them from all sides.

 

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