I glanced out my window. The town was in utter chaos. Dead bodies lay in the streets, swarmed by lustful flies. A church burned in the distance. Black, hazy smoke floated up into the humid afternoon. Peasants carted corpses through the streets, looking panicked. The neon green dark mark rose up against the sky. Lord Voldemort had come at last.
Mother, Father and I had been hearing about the famed Lord for days. He had killed hundreds, maybe thousands, with the help of his followers, whom were called Death Eaters. He mainly went for mudbloods and Muggles. The town had installed a security wall around the outskirts, but it hadn't been enough. He had come around noon today, broken in, and began to kill.
I had been waiting for three hours to reach our house, but he had not come. Mother had instructed me to stay in my room. As badly as I wanted to flee, I obeyed. I sat perched in front of my window, watching the pandemonium below.
"Emily!" my father called, pounding on my door. "Are you alright?"
"Yes." I replied back listlessly. I had no idea why I was so calm about all of this.
"Well, come down to the parlor."
I walked slowly away from the window and left the room. I counted thirteen steps as I came down. Hadn't there once been only twelve? I put it out of my mind. It wasn't important at the moment.
As I reached the parlor, I saw my mother, sitting cross-legged in her favorite armchair, looking pale. Father looked the same, except he was standing, and twitching nervously. In addition, there was a man seated on the sofa. He had his hood up and his face was not visible. My stomach heaved as I realized that it was Lord Voldemort himself.
The room was spinning. My sight was draining away. After what felt like an eternity, I fainted dead away.
Smelling salts awoke me from my unconscious refuge. I coughed. My vision doubled as my eyelids slid open, then reverted back to normal. I glanced around. Lord Voldemort was still sitting with his hood up, though his head was turned in my direction. Mother and Father were peering at me, obviously worried.
"Emily? Are you alright?"
Am I alright? I felt like screaming at them. Lord Voldemort is sitting in our parlor!
"Yes, I'm fine." I took Father's hand and he pulled me to my feet. My mind was working furiously. We were purebloods, the legendary de Muir family, what was he here for? Mother was examining my eyes, but they were fixed on Him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Father, I'm sure." I said quietly, weakly. I feared I would faint again. I still couldn't figure out what he was doing here. Surely he didn't wish me to join his ranks? After all, I was still attending Beauxbatons. I doubted he would pluck me from my school career when he had so many followers already, so why was he in my house?
"Emily, this is Tom Riddle." My mother said, gesturing to the Lord.
He removed his hood. "I am known now as Lord Voldemort, no longer as my father's Muggle name."
My breath caught in my chest. He was beautiful. He had strange seaweed colored eyes, lovely dark brown hair, a high nose, and sneering lips. But this didn't matter the second the image of all the bodies being carted down the street flew through my mind. By then, he was the ugliest person on earth.
"What business do you have here?" I demanded. I heard Mother gasp behind me. Father's grip on my shoulder tightened dangerously. I shrugged it off. It felt strange to address someone so rudely and informally, but he was a murderer, and he deserved no respect of mine. He didn't even deserve to be called human.
"Child, do you dare address me in such a manner?" he asked, smirking. I despised that smirk, just as I despised every aspect of him.
"Yes, I do. I address all criminals in such a manner." I snapped. He did not look as taken aback as I had wished him to. Instead, his smirk only broadened.
"Dearest Emily de Muir. How beautiful you are. And how feisty!" he declared, amused. I glared at him. He took my hand and kissed it. Reluctantly, I allowed it. But it did not charm nor impress me. I was surprised as I realized just how quickly my fear had evaporated in his presence. Normally, if something like this had happened, I would have been shaking in my boots. I suppose my anger had washed the panic away.
"What makes my beauty your concern?" I asked, finally yanking my hand away. He looked me up and down, studying my body. Uncomfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest. He must have been at least ten years older than me.
Finally, he said, "She'll do. Take her away."
Two burly looking men lept out from the adjacent dining hall and grabbed my arms.
"What is going on!" I screamed, kicking and struggling to break free of the men. I looked back at Mother and Father. Father looked close to tears. Mother was already bawling. "Stop them!"
"It was the only way he wouldn't hurt us, Emily." My Father said, his voice shaking. Mother wept on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, dear."
"What?" I whispered, stunned. "You've traded me for your lives? Where am I going?" I shouted, but the men had already taken me out the door. Voldemort was following close behind, grinning all the while.
"You're coming with me." He said, obviously satisfied. "You are going to be my wife."
"No!" I squealed as they carried me away. I glanced back to my home one last time. "NO!"
CHAPTER 2
They carried me just outside the village. I had fallen limp from an irrepressible grief. Tears were streaming freely down my face. I struggled not to weep. Voldemort looked at me, lasciviousness dancing in his eyes. He made me sick. I spat on the ground bitterly, but nothing could seem to wipe that victorious smirk off his face.
"You are like a wilting flower, my dear." He said, moon-eyed. I knew his affection was just an illusion. What would I be to him in marriage? A breeding dog? Yes, that was probably it. I shuddered. Just the thought of being under him made my lunch rise in my throat…
We stopped between two birch trees. An old teakettle lay on the ground. It was painted with green vines and the spout was chipped. The two burly men dropped me next to it, and I grunted. Voldemort snaked a hand around my waist to steady me, and I glowered through my tears.
"Where are we going?" I growled.
"To our new home, love. You'll like it there, I'm sure. It's a big castle with lots of windows, and it overlooks a beautiful forest. You can have your own room." He told me. I wondered if he thought that I actually cared about any of that. I really just wanted to go home, even if both my parents had stabbed me in the back.
"Now," he said. "Let us go."
He grabbed my wrist and forced me to touch the teakettle. With a burst of light and a jerk somewhere behind my navel, we disappeared.
We popped onto a green plain, dotted with wildflowers, thistles, and snapdragons. There were holly and yew trees, their branches noble. In the distance stood a magnificent castle, dreary and solitary. The stone walls seemed to seep years and years of memories, like a sort of pus.
Somewhere from deep in my head, the voice of my mother rose up and declared, "Even when you drain the pressure from the swelling, it will fill itself again."
Irony weighed heavily on my mind. From thereon, I did not take that quote lightly.
Though the place was wonderful, it was horrible because Lord Voldemort lived there, and now he had brought me into his domain as a prisoner. I felt like even the trees were watching me, like they were his spies. My skin crawled as I pondered this and wondered if it was possible.
"Now, I shall call my minions to celebrate our marriage." He said. Curious, I watched as he rolled up his sleeve and touched the eerie black tattoo on his arm. I knew it was the dark mark.
Almost instantaneously, loud cracks shattered the afternoon and men appeared at his side, all clutching their forearms. He waited one minute until it had seemed like all of them had appeared. One by one, they groveled at his feet and kissed his robes. The site of this supposed slavery made me nauseas.
"Men!" He called, his voice powerful and demanding. "The woman you see beside me is now my wife! Let us rejoice!"
A great cheer interrupted the calls of the robins and sparrows, and flock flew through the sky in a diamond formation. Voldemort seized me in his arms. The crowd swarmed around us as we walked up to the castle. Every men whooping and shouting drowned the sounds of my blood-curdling screamed until I could only hear them in my own head. I fell limp once again and the tears ran.
I could hear him instructing the crowd to wait in the hall. I closed my eyes. He carried me up the stairs and kicked open a door. He threw me on the bed and made to leave.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" I asked, sneering.
"You wait here. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be up in a couple of hours." He told me flatly and slammed the door. I sat, stunned, on top of the silky linen bed. Was he having a post-marriage bachelor party or something? Well, it didn't really matter. At least I was alone.
I lied back on the bed and glanced around the room. Three candles flickered in the corner. A writing desk and chair sat by the window, a shelf of books next to it. The room was plain, but still grand; even so, that didn't cure the horrible feeling I got in my stomach, and it increased the longer I laid there.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I heaved myself off the bed, went over to the book case, and began scanning the volumes. They seemed to be all about the Dark Arts or torture or death. Disgusted, I flung myself back on the bed. That was where I slept for the next two hours.
I woke up to the slamming of the bedroom door. Voldemort came in, breathing heavily, his clothes wrinkled. He looked quite mad, either that or drunk. When I saw him stagger, I picked drunk. He walked unsteadily over to the bed. He whispered my name, "Emily."
Severe terror struck my heart like a lightning bolt and he climbed on top of me. It seemed like I had only just understood that he was going to have sex with me whether I liked it or not. I felt winded and was just about ready to faint when he leaned closer to my face. I'll never forget what he said next.
"You are now man and wife, you may kiss the bride."
Later, the house elves swore that you could have heard doves cry.
CHAPTER 3
When I woke up the next morning, I groaned. I was sore. I could hear him getting ready. I decided to play like I was asleep.
"Wake up, Emily." He drew the curtains back, letting the sunshine in. I screeched in dire protest.
"Emily." He said warningly.
"Go die." I snarled. Though my voice sounded brave, I was cowering with fear beneath the sheets.
"Accio Emily!" He shouted. I felt myself being lifted out of the bed and drawn towards him by the spell. As I landed on my bare feet directly in front of him, I scowled. He smiled.
"Good girl. Get dressed."
"For what?"
"We're having a banquet."
"What! Bloody hell!" I cried, throwing myself back down on the bed.
"Get up NOW!" He roared. He seized my hair and lifted me off the bed. I clenched my teeth and tried not to whimper. He brought my face close to his. I noticed vaguely that my feet still weren't touching the ground. "Tonight, you are going to be perfect. You will only speak when spoken to and you will not leave the ballroom unless I grant you permission! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, but…if it's tonight, why must I get dressed now?"
"We're shopping for a dress. Or rather, you and Deirdre will shop." He said, straightening his tie.
"Who's Deirdre?" I asked, wondering over to the chest of drawers.
"Your maidservant. Will you get dressed already?"
Once I was dressed, I had a light breakfast of toast and orange juice. When I was finished, Deirdre approached me, bowed, and led me out into the front yard.
The first thing I noticed about her was the frown plastered to her face. The worry line between her eyebrows was very apparent. She had tiny, watery blue eyes and she was short and petite. But she came off sweetly. I wanted to hug her right away for how nervous she seemed.
"Where would you like to go, ma'am?" She asked quietly.
"I'm afraid I don't know any place where I can purchase a decent dress. Do you have any recommendations?" I inquired.
"Well…we could go to Sapphire's Gown Emporium. But only if you want to." She added quickly.
"Oh, yes, that would be good."
Deirdre conjured a portkey and away we went.
We appeared on a narrow cobblestone street somewhere in the distant country. Quaint little shops lined both sides of the road. Sapphire's Gown Emporium was directly to our left. It was almost right out of a storybook. I smiled at Deirdre, who returned it nervously, and we went inside.
A tiny bell jingled. It seemed to annoy Deirdre, but it pleased me. The shop was lined with racks and racks of dresses in hundreds of different hues and styles. Though the occasion for shopping was glum, I still found myself slightly excited. I had always loved getting new things.
We went over to a rack on the right. I pulled out a long sweeping black dress.
"Pretty." I commented.
"Yes, indeed." Deirdre agreed. I glanced at the tag.
"Wrong size." I said sadly.
We browsed until I finally found a suitable dress. It was a deep, deep green with frills along the bodice and a slit on the left side. There were rhinestones embedded in the cuffs. The sleeves were opaque and swooping. The waist was embroidered with a paisley pattern.
We paid for it out of Voldemort's money. I turned to Deirdre before we left. She seemed unable to meet my eyes.
"Look at me, please." I requested. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet mine. I smiled indulgently. "Would you like to go get some ice cream?"
"Oh, well, it's up to you –"
"No." I said, stopping her. "I was asking you."
"Well…" she considered. "Yeah, I guess."
We ended up in a tiny frozen yogurt shop a couple of units down. I got chocolate and Deirdre got strawberry. We shared small talk about various things. It wasn't until we were almost done with our yogurt that we got down to the bottom line.
"So…how long have you been serving Voldemort?" I asked, holding my spoon between my index and middle fingers.
"Roughly three years. He never had a wife before you." She admitted, absorbed in her yogurt.
"Really? And why is that?" I asked Deirdre.
"Well…I heard him talking and…"
"And?" I pressed.
"And he said that he wanted a son. You know, to carry on the family name."
"A ha. That's what I suspected all along."
We didn't talk much more as we finished our yogurt. The sun was straight overhead. I stared into my empty bowl, feeling wistful and pensive. I really didn't want to go back.
And why did I have to?
Excitement churned my stomach as I quickly schemed.
"Come on. Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Just follow me, alright?"
"Erm…okay."
I led Deirdre out of the shop and down the road. At first we walked quickly, then we started to jog. Finally, we broke into a grueling run. I could hear her panting behind me, repeatedly asking me where we were going and why, and drawing gasping breaths.
As we reached the place where the road ended and the wild fields began, I could taste victory. But the taste quickly went sour as a large man grabbed me and yanked me free of my path to freedom.
"Let me go!" I demanded. I noticed Deirdre was being held by another man straight across from me. I turned to look at my man's face.
His smirk was lined with ice. His hair was so blonde that it was silvery-white. It was tied back with a black ribbon. His eyes reminded me of slates of steel. I kept thinking that he seemed so very cold and that I needed to flee if I ever wanted to be warm again.
"The Dark Lord thought you and the servant might try to escape." He sneered, his voice hard and pitiless. "How dreadful it is that you failed."
"Shut up." I snapped. "Who are you anyways?"
"My name is Lucius Malfoy. It's a pity that we couldn't have been introduced under better circumstances." He drawled.
"Oh, just take me home, you great buffoon!" I demanded, feeling utterly defeated. He smiled sickly.
"As you wish."
CHAPTER 4
I felt empty, hollow, even in that stunning green dress. I felt like a trophy. I missed my life so much I almost burst into tears when one guest asked about my past. Luckily, I was able to compose myself and feed him vague information about the de Muir household. I was forced to act so normal that it seemed abnormal. I was Voldemort's puppet and slave. At that point I would have given anything to trade places.
The banquet was a success so far. I was steady, even under his searing glare. I had met most of the Death Eaters. The one I hadn't met seemed very sulky and reclusive. He had black, greasy hair and a sneer plastered on his face. I was repulsed – and attracted – right away. With Voldemort's silent, threatening guidance, I made my way over to where he stood. The look on his face reminded me of an eagle scanning the landscape for prey.
"Hello." I began in a monotone. "Who might you be?"
"My name is Severus Snape." He said. "I assume you are the Dark Lord's wife."
"Ye – yes, that is true." I stumbled, biting my lip. He gave me a funny look. "I am his wife."
We stood there for a minute in an awkward silence.
"Well?" He snapped, annoyed. "What are you here for?"
"Nothing, I suppose." I said coolly, relieved that my voice had floated back to its normal tone.
"Then leave me be."
"Fine." I whispered, then swept quickly upstairs.
When I was ready, I lifted my wand and murmured a mild summoning charm. Soon, he was gliding through the doorway, wrapped in golden light. He struggled, but it was in vain. As I said, I had been in my final year at Beauxbatons.
"What the hell is going on?" Severus demanded. "What are you doing?" He struggled more intently. I watched him with difficulty. I felt just like my husband, and that made my blood run cold. But it had to be done, even if it meant this man's life to save mine.
Oh God, I sounded so much like him. I shivered.
Slowly, I unveiled myself, keeping the wand steady. As he saw me, really saw me, his mouth fell agape and his wiggling ceased.
"What – what are you doing?"
"Take me. Please." I begged calmly.
"No!" He yelled, his eyes wide with fear. "I can't! I won't."
"You will." I insisted with a purr.
"No,"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Please Severus! Please, if it means the difference between life…" I paused, swallowing my tears. "And death."
He gave me a funny look, his right eyebrow cocked, his eyes deciphering. "What do you mean?"
"I can't explain." I whispered. "Just do it. Please."
I knew he would say no. And when he did, it was over. I wouldn't go on. We would both die and nothing before this moment would have mattered at all. Please, say yes, I silently urged. Help me.
"I don't understand your reasoning, but if it is for life…"
"Thank you." I whispered again.
"You're welcome."
After it was finished, we both got dressed again and got cleaned up without a word. It was strange, what we had shared in such a short amount of time. But if what had happened was good enough all would be going well with my plan. If this plan was carried out successfully then perhaps I could finally be free.
We went back downstairs, I first and he following about five minutes later. The first thing I noticed was that Voldemort refused to look at me.
Curiously, I leaned his way. Nothing. Not even a glance. Worried, I went to get a glass of spiced cider. It was giving off steam. I poured some for myself, then poured it back in. I had to plan ahead. Everything had to follow the format of the plan.
For the rest of the banquet I sat in the corner, ignoring the looks that Severus kept throwing my way.
"Goodbye. See you next time." Voldemort said to the very last Death Eater. This was the moment I had been dreading. Quickly, I drank from my flask. I put it back down before he turned around.
He gave me a scorching look. Right then I knew that he knew. The funny thing was that it didn't bother me right away. But what happened next brought chills down my spine.
Slowly, he waved his wand. A coat hanger flew into the room. He gestured to it, then to me. I knew what he meant, and it made me want to scream in terror. My heart was hammering like a rabbits'. I shrunk against the wall, horrified. I stayed right there until finally, he exited the hall and went up to his quarters.
I slipped to the floor, weeping pitifully.
CHAPTER 5
A few months later, news came from Healer Stone that I was pregnant. I wasn't surprised. I wasn't happy, either. I just felt numb.
When Deirdre and I returned home from St. Mungo's, Voldemort ran up to us in the driveway.
"What's the news?" He asked urgently. "Are you pregnant?"
"Yes." I answered stiffly. Anger flared inside of me when I saw the look in his eyes, the vision. Future power, handed down from father to son. I wanted to slap him.
"Well, is it a boy or girl?" He asked. When I didn't answer right away, he began to shake me. "What is it?" He yelled.
"A BOY!" I screamed. The shaking ceased. A faint, light-headed feeling consumed me. I gripped Deirdre's shoulder for support.
"More importantly," He bent closely to my face. "Who is the father?"
I desperately wanted to spit on him. I scowled instead. "You are, of course."
"Any proof of that?"
"Here, take these." I shoved a bundle of parchment into his hands. They were documents from the doctor stating that he had done tests to insure that Voldemort was the father. Of course, these could have been faked, I didn't know. But Voldemort only heard what he wanted to hear, those who lived in fear of him made sure of that.
He leafed through them, his eyes darting back in forth at an incredible speed. Sometimes I wondered if he was even human. "These seem to be in order. Alright then. I suppose I won't be needing this." He chucked the coat hanger into the bushes. I began to weep with relief. Deirdre also seemed to be close to tears.
Voldemort came closer to me. He took me into his arms. "Come now, Emily. You didn't really think I would hurt you or the baby, did you? I just needed a way to keep you in line. I know how barbarous women can sometimes be." He cooed quietly, twirling my hair in his fingers. Though I imagine I'd regret it, I hugged him closer to me. I needed someone to hold.
I sniffed. The tears slowly stopped as he rocked me back and forth in his arms. After a while I think Deirdre went inside. Finally, when I had stopped crying altogether, he smiled mischievously at me.
"Let's go upstairs."
A cold stone dropped into my heart and sent chilling ripples throughout my body. "I just – I – the doctor said I wasn't supposed to – it might hurt the baby –"
"I said, let's go upstairs." He took me in a firmer grip, his eyes narrowing. He squeezed my wrists. I had no choice but to obey. Quietly, I went. Again came that feeling that I was being sentenced to death.
Or perhaps someone else was.
The next morning, I leapt out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. I made it just in time. I was sick over the toilet. My stomach weak and twitching, I got up off the floor, put on my robe, and went down to the kitchen.
Deirdre was there. Wordlessly, she got me some rum out of the cold box. I protested sleepily.
"I can't drink this, it might hurt the baby."
"Isn't that what you want?"
"No! For all I know, this could be Severus' baby. Those records could have been false and I have no way of knowing!" I slammed the rum on the counter.
She quieted. I knew she had no solution to this. At least everything was going according to plan. "Would you like some milk?" She asked, grabbing a jug.
"That would be great." I said tiredly.
Later, when Voldemort was out on official business, I heard a knock on the door. I put down my book and went to get the door. When I saw who was standing there, I nearly burst into tears.
"Severus!" I cried, jumping up and wrapping my arms around him. He grunted. Nevertheless, he embraced me warmly. When he put me down, I gave him a tiny kiss and stared up into his beautiful eyes. He looked astonished.
He gestured to my stomach. "May I?"
I nodded, smiling. It was then that I started to cry. He touched my stomach tenderly. Severus ran his weathered hands over it, a little smile tugging at his lips. I beamed as I watched the excitement rise on his face. Though I knew he was scared, he seemed determined not to show it, and that made my heart flutter.
"To whom does this child belong?" He asked, laying his head against my stomach.
"I'm not sure. But do you want to know something?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to have twins."
He looked up abruptly. "You don't think that one of them –"
"That's what I'm hoping." I interrupted. "I've been taking the potion for about a week now, even before I knew about the twins."
"You don't mean the –"
"You don't have to say it." I replied soothingly. "And yes, that one."
Suddenly, he clutched his forearm. Pain struck through my heart. I knew it was time for him to go.
"I am needed." He said.
"I know." I sighed sadly. "Come by again sometime soon."
"I shall." He stated. He gave me a quick, unromantic kiss on the lips and vanished. I almost started to cry again, but then quickly willed the tears away because I knew if I started I wouldn't be able to stop.
CHAPTER 6
Months flew by. It seemed as though I wasn't even aware of the passing days anymore. I know Deirdre was worried, but I couldn't possibly explain the plan to her. I was forever hopeless, pissed off, and impatient. I was so afraid that one day I would just explode. The line that kept playing like a broken record in my head was: my life wasn't suppose to turn out this way.
I gained barely any weight. Honestly, I just stopped caring about everything. Myself, the babies, everything. I just hoped that once the babies were born I could get myself – and the plan – back on track. I practically on a hunger strike. Thoughts of my plan helped me to eat, but I found that I had to take it a day at a time.
Severus visited me occasionally. Every time, he became increasingly worried and unnerved. I could see it in his eyes. Around the time the baby was due, we began to make love. I had finally found the passion I had always wanted, the love, but I was forced to hide it. At least I was nearly happy.
The worst part of the later months of my pregnancy was the sex. I found it ironic. I was pinned under Severus almost as often as I was pinned under Voldemort. As much as I always loathed myself for thinking the way I did, Voldemort was an excellent lover. I suppose he felt the same way about me. Maybe not. Either way, it didn't matter. I could never love him.
On the coldest day of that winter, I went into labor. I screamed from the study. Oh, the pain was so immense. At first I thought I was dying.
"DEIRDRE!" I yelled. "HELP ME!"
My vision shifted. At last, it seemed, there she was, innocently frozen in the doorway. Terror veiled her eyes. I was rolling on the floor, gritting my teeth. She helped me up and into the bedroom. Voldemort was there, sitting casually on the bed, reading a book.
"What's going on?" He asked.
"She's in labor!" Deirdre announced. The expression on Voldemort's face didn't change. He looked up in annoyance when he found we were still there.
"Well? What do you want me to do about it?"
"Take your wife to St. Mungo's, that's what I want you to do!" Deirdre said angrily, her voice raised.
"Why you –"
"Stop it! Stop, I'll have the baby here!" I said, my breathing ragged.
"Right." Deirdre said. She seemed to get a grip on herself. "Right, I'll get a towel. And some hot water."
"Thank you." I said as I sat on the bed. I smiled at her weakly. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard her crying as she walked out.
Eight hours after we had forced Voldemort out of the room and bolted the door, I gave birth to twins, both boys. One had dark brown hair, the other black. One had green eyes, the other had brown. They were obviously fraternal. They were both so beautiful. As I held them in my arms, watching them breathe, I started to sob. My hot tears fell on their little pink chests.
I named the black-haired one Brom. I did not name the brown-haired one, for my plan was coming together quite nicely. Darkness expanded inside of me, grief rose, but I could not give in to my emotions. I had been planning this for nine months. Love could not get in the way of my freedom any longer.
I heard a tapping at the window. Deirdre opened it and an owl flew in. It dropped a letter in my lap and flew out. The seal was black, an SS stamped into it, and my name was hastily scribbled on the front. Trying to ignore the thousands of thoughts and assumptions that had popped into my mind, I unfolded it warily. A tiny red rosebud fell out, which I slipped behind my right ear.
The letter read:
Dear Emily,
I heard from the Dark Lord that you went into labor. I hope you and the children are in stable condition.
Speaking of the children, I am sorry to say that Lucius Malfoy, your capturer in the town of Fen, reported to your husband this very day and told of our little secret. I just wanted to tell you not to worry about me. I am being sentenced to death. I am not afraid, and I hope you won't be either. Please know that I love you and the time we have spent together on earth will be nothing compared to what we spend in the afterlife. I love you, my darling. I love you.
Forever yours,
Severus
I dropped the letter. The numbness of my heart, soul, and mind had reoccurred. I knew what I was to do. If I was crying, I did not know it. The only thing that kept flashing in my mind was the knowledge that my entire world had just fallen apart.
Carefully, I set the two children down on the bed. To Brom, I fed a Sedation Salve. I packed him into a tiny crate filled with pillows and slid him under the bed.
"You'll avenge your father." I whispered. Although my legs could barely support me, I took the brown-haired child – Voldemort's child – onto the balcony with me. I began to bawl hysterically as I brought it towards the edge. "I'm so sorry, my child. I'm so sorry."
I thought that after the look that innocent little newborn gave me I would throw myself over the edge, but from somewhere I had the power not to. I loosened my grip on the child and down it sailed.
I screamed when it hit the ground below.
I was still on the balcony, shivering, watching my breath come out in white clouds when Voldemort burst into the room and ran out to me.
"Where is my child?" He demanded, wrapping his hand around my arms.
I turned to him, my face stony. "Your child," I informed him, unfeeling, "Is dead."
Anger flared in his eyes. "What did you say?"
"It is dead. I killed it."
"YOU DID WHAT?" He roared. "YOU BITCH! I'LL MURDER YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!"
"That won't be necessary." I whispered. Before he could stop me, I hopped the rail of the balcony. I soared through the air, my hair flying up around me. My last thought was of Severus and his son. I had sent him a letter. If he had escaped, like I thought he would, he would find Brom, just as I would find peace.
It was ironic that the last thing I heard was Voldemort's angry scream, not mine. The dead, nameless child flashed once in my head before everything had disappeared altogether for the final time.
THE END