Hope this chappie explains things a bit better. Thanks for all the reviews for first chapter (which I didn't mention begins at the start of OOTP). As I said, I'd hoped putting this up would help me finish it, and it's working so far. Cheers.

WARNING: Mild self punishment; mention of suicide.


Grief is the agony of an instant, the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life. - Benjamin Disraeli

A soft pop was the only indication that she'd returned and, upon entering the opulent manor, her footsteps were muffled by the thick carpeting as she walked upstairs. Hopeful that she hadn't been missed, she crept down the long hall with its sleeping portraits to her room.

'Where have you been?' came a haughty voice and Ashlin turned to see Lucius Malfoy watching her, a mistrustful expression on his aristocratic face.

'Explain how that is any of your business, Lucius,' she snapped, turning her back on him.

He followed her down the hall, leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, hand resting on the door knob. 'If the Dark Lord had called upon you….' he began.

'Did he?' she asked, raising an eyebrow.

'No,' he admitted. 'But if he had…'

'Then it would have been my head, Lucius,' she replied, feeling more weary than she had in a long time. 'What do you want anyway? If you're just here to taunt me, consider your task complete and go. I'm buggered.'

'Mmm,' he murmured with a predatory smile, watching as she removed her cloak. 'Buggered? There's an idea...'

'Piss off,' she muttered, her voice holding no venom. She was not afraid of Lucius. She knew him far too well now to fear him.

There was a moment's silence then…

'You look like shit,' he said softly and she turned to him, surprised at his unusually gentle tone.

'Then you'd be forgetting about getting laid?' she asked snippily, and was surprised again by his smile.

'You'd just lay there anyway,' he retorted, turning away. 'Where's the fun if you're not fighting me?'

He closed the door behind him and Ashlin's bravado quickly faded.

'Fuck,' she whispered, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes to stop the tears she hadn't consciously shed in almost a decade and a half.

'I should never have agreed to this,' she mumbled, rubbing her face. 'How the hell am I going to keep my walls up now?'

She employed Occlumancy to avoid detection as a member of the Order of the Phoenix as she lived amongst the very people the Order were fighting, but her mind was in turmoil; her barriers weren't holding.

With a soft groan, she walked into the bathroom, stripping then getting into the grey marble shower, hissing in pain as the stinging spray of hot water hit the gaping cuts on her back. She didn't turn the pressure down, though, or make it cooler. Not yet.

'Punishment,' she muttered, her teeth biting into the flesh of her bottom lip, drawing blood.

Quickly but carefully running the soap over her skin, she reminded herself to get Narcissa to check the throbbing wounds tomorrow for infection. The soap sluiced off her body and she stood for a moment as the water tried its best to wash the layers of imbedded filth off her skin - the filth and shame of her life that she knew would never be able to be washed away.

The pressure and heat of the water was not hurting anymore, so she turned the hot tap off, bracing herself. A muffled cry slipped from her lips as the freezing water hit hot, injured skin, but she braced herself against the wall, standing in stoic silence and taking the castigation as she was supposed to. When she noticed the red water swirling down the drain had faded to pink, she stepped out of the shower. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused.

Horrified, but transfixed, she moved closer, examining the face and body she tried not to look at too thoroughly anymore.

'Oh my god,' she breathed, running her hands over herself as if to confirm what the reflection was showing her.

She hardly recognised herself. Her skin was blemished, pale and waxy with a jaundiced tinge. Her body was covered in ragged scars from battle and punishments - both given by others and self inflicted, and her blonde hair was lank, tangled and greasy, the grey that she'd noticed months ago starting to become visible in the light strands now. She was thin, dangerously thin, bones standing out in stark contrast to her 'before' body.

When she agreed to take on the mission of double agent for the Order, she'd been twenty years old; natural blonde and 'sexy as hell' according to the man she'd shared a bed with.

'He wouldn't recognise me,' she mumbled, although he probably had his own scars now. 'I look like a walking skeleton.'

She frowned at the prominent ribs, able to count each one, and her hip bones stood out so sharply she could have cut herself on them. Turning, she saw the lacerations streaked across her back: red and inflamed. Her skin was streaked with blood from the shower that had aggravated the still open wounds that had now begun to clot again. Sucking a breath in between her teeth, she turned back and finally looked at her face.

'Christ,' she whispered, morbidly fascinated by the sight.

She ran her finger along a long, raised scar down the left side of her jaw, running from near her ear almost to the corner of her mouth - a remnant from her Death Eater initiation many years ago. Her cheeks were hollowed; face gaunt and old beyond her 34 years, but most startling were her dark ringed green eyes - they looked…

'Dead,' she thought then looked away, unable to stand the sight of herself any longer. 'I look dead.'

There was a time she was full of life. Her eyes used to sparkle, particularly when she looked at him. She shook her head, forcing the rising grief away. She could not afford to indulge herself. Letting herself grieve for her lost opportunities could cost her and many others their lives. That was too high a price to pay for a misery she had no hope of escaping anyway.


A week later

'Sirius,' she said softly.

'I'm here, Ash,' he whispered, his face appearing before hers.

Ashlin stared at him, drinking in the sight of his handsome face. 'You're here,' she breathed, her words almost indiscernible.

But he heard and smiled. 'I'm always here,' he said, touching her hair, which was no longer greasy and stringy.

Suddenly, she realised. 'This is a dream,' she murmured and he nodded.

'Do you care?' he asked, his face lowering until his lips nearly touched hers.

'No,' she whispered and saw him smile before his lips met hers.

Their lips were soft on each others at first then, as heat built quickly between them, their kiss became harder, needier. Their clothes seemed to just vanish and Sirius' hands were everywhere.

'Please,' she whispered, arching up to his touch and suddenly, he was inside her.

They moved together: sinuously, smoothly, until a wave of pleasure washed over her and she could hear Sirius moan as he reached his own end. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured her name, over and over. 'Ashlin. Ashlin...'

'Ashlin!'

The sharp retort woke her abruptly from her dream and she sat up in the dark room. 'What is it?' she asked the shadowy figure in the doorway, immediately awake from years of practice.

'We have received word,' the voice she recognised now as Narcissa Malfoy's said. 'You must prepare to leave when he calls.'

Ashlin didn't ask any more questions as she quickly emerged from beneath her sheets - she was a well trained Death Eater and knew what was expected of her.

Narcissa left the room silently as Ashlin dressed.

She'd been living with the Malfoy's since news reached them of the possible return of the Dark Lord a few months ago. She had known both Lucius and Narcissa slightly at school but her family had been close to the blonde womans' for many years. No one from either family had ever known about Ashlin and Narcissa's cousin, Sirius - not many people had. A Gryffindor dating a Slytherin…he hadn't even told his friends until they could no longer think of excuses to avoid them. The Potters, James and Lily, and Remus Lupin had been concerned about the relationship: Slytherin's were mistrusted, particularly by ex Gryffindor students and, to be fair, most of Lord Voldemort's loyalest servants were former Slytherins.

She'd joined the members of her former school house many years ago at the behest of Albus Dumbledore. Eager to prove herself trustworthy, she'd rashly agreed to the man's suggestion she act as a double agent.

'Biggest fucking mistake of my life,' she muttered now, yanking on her pants.

She'd been distraught, angry and Dumbledore took advantage. Sirius was leaving her to go into hiding as James and Lily Potter's secret keeper and she was desperate to try and help bring Voldemort down as soon as possible to get him back.


'You have connections, Ashlin,' Albus said urgently, sitting down next to her after he presented his idea. 'Your family; your house, they would never suspect you of being a double agent.'

She shook her head. 'I don't know,' she said faintly, thoughts rushing through her mind. 'I wanted to leave that life, those beliefs, behind. That's why I joined the Order.'

'If we had a link to the Death Eaters, a way to know what Voldemort was doing, we could defeat him all the sooner…and Sirius could come back to you,' he said softly. 'Wouldn't that be worth compromising your beliefs for a while?'

She looked at him shrewdly. 'We aren't just talking about compromising my beliefs, Albus,' she said in a low voice. 'Don't take me for a fool. I know there's a damn good chance I'll be killed doing this.'

He didn't say anything, just stared at her with those probing blue eyes.

'I'll do it,' she told him. 'For Sirius. To get him out of danger. To get him back to me.'

'You love him that much?' he asked and she nodded. 'Enough to die for him?'

She smiled a grim smile. 'Without him, my life is incomplete,' she said, standing up. 'And I don't want to live an incomplete life anymore. His freedom, our life - these are things worth dying for.'


Unfortunately, things hadn't gone according to plan and within weeks, Sirius was in Azkaban, Pettigrew and the Potters were dead and Ashlin was marked.

A Death Eater.

Grief stricken, she turned to the only person she could think of that could help her, Albus, who had convinced her that the Dark Lord was not really gone; that she needed to keep up her act and, believing she had nothing left to go back to, she'd agreed. The fact he'd turned out to be correct didn't ease her resentment towards the man. But now, impossibly, Sirius was back, had been for years without anyone telling her, but she was unable to see him; to explain to him why she was doing what she was. Albus refused to allow it.

'I started this for him; to get him back to me. But now, he's going to think I turned,' she thought despairingly. 'What else could they all expect from a Slytherin?'

She pulled on her cloak and pointed her wand at her face.

'Mascus,' she murmured and a silver mask fitted itself perfectly to her face.

There was a moment of claustrophobia then she took a deep breath. Her mind had to be clear; protected, or she was a dead woman.

'My soul's already torn beyond saving,' she thought suddenly. 'Does it really matter now if I'm physically extinct as well?'

For a moment, the temptation to take the knife she kept in her underwear drawer and slash it across her wrists; her throat; let the crimson life flow from her damaged body, seemed irresistible.

She wavered, taking a step towards her carved dressing table before she came out of the haze of despair that was all too often engulfing her these days; the promise of serenity and peace almost overwhelming.

With a sigh, she pushed down all thoughts of a blessed release and concentrated on emptying her mind.

'It'll all be for nothing if I give up now,' she told herself, preparing for the inevitable pain and horror of the night.

Her mind cleared itself of all thoughts other than those of her master, and walked down the stairs to join Lucius in the dining room.


He saw her mask and smirked, raising his wand to put his own mask in place. His mocking smile belied the nervousness radiating from him. She hadn't been the only one punished for not attempting to locate Lord Voldemort.

'He'll call when he wants us,' he told her, his voice low.

She nodded then turned her head when she saw movement off to her left. Her wand arm rose but before she cast a Stunning spell, she recognised the intruder.

'That is a very good way to lose your life, Draco,' she said mildly, putting her arm down.

Lucius turned his head sharply. 'I told you to go with your mother to prepare for your departure tomorrow,' he snapped, a frown creasing his features. 'Now, Draco. Don't defy me again.'

The blonde teenager, so much like his father, seemed to shrink into himself and nodded, leaving the room. Ashlin glanced at Lucius, who seemed even more rattled now.

'What is it?' she asked but he shook his head. She felt a moment of kinship with the man: he was as terrified as she was - just not as proficient at hiding it.

'Master your fear, Lucius,' she said softly and he sneered at her.

'I am pleased my Lord has returned,' he began but she stepped closer.

'If I can smell your fear, he will be able to as well,' she whispered harshly. 'Get yourself under control, Malfoy, or you will curse us all.'

He opened his mouth but before he could form a response both of them felt a burning sensation on their forearms. Lucius clutched the arm quickly and Ashlin hissed, biting her lip to stop a curse.

'Time to go,' she said and they disapparated instantly.