My Promise

Sesshy's Mistress

Summary: While fulfilling a promise to a friend, Cosmos find's she is in a world of magic far beyond anything she could ever imagine. She will have to help guide and teach the soul of one of her friend's descendants. Will she succeed or will she fail to fulfill her promise?

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the idea; it was all Lawliet's Bride's idea! I do, however, own some pocket lint, want some?

PS: I wasn't going to update this till I hit 20 reviews but because I love you all and I have scans tomorrow-I changed my mind. Pray for me that my cancer has not returned. Tomorrow will decide if I go back on chemo or not ....dun dun dun....

...

The city of London was oddly quiet as night settled upon it. A bright and full moon hung high in the sky, alighting the city along with several thousand stars. Only a few wispy clouds dared to streak through the sky, interrupting the peaceful scene the nearly clear sky created. Below, however, fog slowly slithered across the pavement, creeping and covering everything, even the river that ran through the heart of the city, Thames. Though the partially undisturbed water reflected the moon perfectly, it was soon engulfed completely in the thick fog.

Floating carelessly upon the water was a small boat in which held a single fisherman. The hour of the night was too late for any normal man to be out upon the water; however, this man seemed to ignore the protocol for normalcy. He sat upon his boat, cigar in his mouth, bandy at his side, and fishing pole in hand. With a zing, plop, he cast his line and waited for a bite.

Inhaling the deep fresh air and cigar smoke through his mouth, the man slowly released it, letting a fume of horrid smelling smoke mix with that of the fog surrounding him. A small tug pulled on his line and the man sat up straighter, giving a small jerk to the right. Only a nibble. He sighed and leaned back, enjoying the scenery (or what he could make of it) that surrounded him.

In the distance, one could hear the quack of a duck that had been startled awake by a car crossing the Tower Bridge (1). Just as the man began to relax, a noise startled him. Unknown to him, two people had been traveling via portal and the other end had just opened near him.

The yelp of something resembling an animal echoed and bounced off the water, making the man look around in slight terror. The noise grew louder, however, it was changing. Finally, the old man glanced up in time to notice a large black blob land in the dark waters next to his boat. Water sprayed up, splashing over the fisherman and drenching him. The man's mouth fell agape, cigar falling to the deck. Throwing his head up, the man squinted his eyes and tried to see through the fog and to where the man had come. Nothing but the swirling mist greeted him. He did, however, hear a voice.

"I'm so sorry," was the cry of a female, leaving the fisherman to wonder what it was she was sorry for and making him forget that it was coming from an impossible place, right above him.

"Sirius, are you okay?" The female voice questioned in concern. Sereous? Why was she asking if he was seriously ok? How did that woman know him? The fisherman grew more and more confused. That is, until he heard the waters stirring again. Spinning around, the man was greeted with the sight of a very unruly and wet man splashing in the middle of the river. Rushing to the side of his boat, he motioned for the man to swim over, intending to help him.

The man in the river must have saw and understood because he quickly swam over and pulled himself up (with the help of the very confused fisherman). Now that the man was out of the water, his rescuer began to consider throwing him back. Given the unruly state of his appearance, the fisherman wondered if the man had just escaped from prison. If so, he would be one dead fisherman if he wasn't careful.

"Thanks," the soaked man grumbled while glaring up at the sky. A light chuckle from the same female voice was softly carried by the wind. The wind seemed to have startled the fisherman, eating away at his already frazzled nerves. The fog that had slowly been creeping upon the silently slumbering city was moving on with the wind, as if being forced aside.

Once again, the fisherman glanced up only to see a black oblong circle containing a woman inside of it. Stranger yet, she and the thing which held her were floating in mid air. Immediately, the fisherman felt his head spin and a nauseous feeling creep up in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should have called it quits after the seventh glass!

"I'll be needing my wand back, Cosmos," the man that had been rescued from the freezing depths of the river called up towards the silver haired woman. The fisherman let his confused and slightly misty eyed gaze flicker between the two. He watched as the silver haired woman jumped down, landing gracefully with the aid of her wings (WINGS!), onto his boat. The sight of the large, feathery white wings attached to the back of the beautiful woman had the fisherman on his knees, staring openly upon her in shock.

"Why is that?" She seemed to not have noticed the man's move. Unknown to the fisherman, the drenched Sirius waved his hand towards him, indicating that the reason was none other than the groveling man at the cosmic warrior's feet.

"We very well can't leave him remembering what he just saw," Sirius sighed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Cosmos still did not seem to understand why the man would warrant the return of his wand.

"I can easily fix the problem," Cosmos answered while finally turning her gaze to the man who sat upon his knees in front of her, reaching out and, yet, trying to restrain himself from touching her. The Angel.

"Angel!"

"I seem to be called that a lot today," Cosmos sent a soft smile towards the confused man. "I promise that this won't hurt a bit," She spoke once more, confusing the man even more. He could not understand what she meant by it. Why would an angel have to hurt him? Nothing made sense to him at the moment. He was definitely calling it quits on the brandy from now on!

"Luna Mind Meld!" The woman's hand glowed as she touched it to the fisherman's forehead, transferring energy and rearranging the most recent of memories. The light show only lasted a few seconds. After which, the fisherman proceeded to pass out at her feet.

"Done," Cosmos gave her head a quick but stiff nod while moving to prop the poor fellow back into his chair.

"Now what are we to do?" Sirius questioned her, making a note to question the girl later on her powers and such.

"We find a place to stay," Cosmos answered while summoning another portal.

"Whatever you say, but, this time, you're stepping out first!" Sirius demanded. He was not ready for another dip in the river any time soon. Cosmos only offered him a twitch of the lip as she entered into the portal, followed closely by Sirius Black.

…

Elsewhere in London, two other gentlemen were awake at the same late hour, discussing matters of grave importance. One man sat behind a large desk full of important papers that needed his attention. On his desk sat a name plate with his name and position engraved upon it. The position, though written smaller, weighed heavily upon the man. Prime Minister. Those two words seemed to haunt the troubled man sitting behind the desk. Every since the first day he had entered into the position, he had been introduced to thing's he had only imagined in his dreams.

Across from him, sitting in a very hard chair, was a portly man (the same man that had caused all the trouble for the Prime Minister from the beginning), heavily flustered, and seemingly in the greatest bit of disarray the Prime Minister had ever seen him. In the other man's hand, he twirled a green bowler hat nervously, throwing glances from a portrait, to the Prime Minister, and back towards the Prime Minister's fireplace.

"You mean to tell me, Fudge, that Lord Vol-" the Prime Minister was interrupted by a squeak of fear and a sharp, reprimanding look from the other man. "-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is alive?"

The one known as Fudge seemed to sink further into his chair as he nodded solemnly to the question asked of him. The Prime Minister did not fail to notice the eyes of his guest continued to shoot around the room; however, this time he noted the extreme fear and unease, as if mentioning the name would bring the subject to them.

"Is that Black fellow with him again?" The Prime Minister questioned while recalling a visit some three years ago in regards to an escaped convict.

"Black?" Fudge seemed confused at them moment, "Black? Sirius Black you mean?" Fudge questioned as he brought his attention back to the topic on hand. "Merlin's beard, no. He's dead. Turns out that we were…" Fudge seemed to have formed a thick lump in his throat, "wrong." As soon as that little word slipped through his lips, the man fell into a coughing fit. "Turns out Black was innocent after all. He was not in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named either. I-I mean," Fudge started to fluster again, "all evidence had pointed to him. We had fifty eye witness', but, anyway, as I said before. Black is dead. Actually, he was murdered inside of the Ministry of Magic. An inquiry is currently being held to look into the matter…."

As the Prime Minister sat back and examined the man before him, he could not help but to feel pity. Though the visits of Cornelius Fudge were anything but pleasant and welcomed, the Prime Minister could understand the pressure and how easy it was to succumb to it. However, the pity was soon eclipsed by smugness. The fact that the Wizard was having as much if not more troubles than the Muggle was something the Prime Minister found quite ironic and humorous. Fudge had turned his life upside down from day one in office and now the Prime Minister was seeing Fudge's life turned upside down in return. There was also the tiny fact that no one had been murdered in the government departments under his charge. Well, not yet….

"Black is by-the-by now, however. There are more important matters at hand such as the war -" Fudge had stopped fiddling with his bowler to, instead, crumple it in his tightly clenched fist.

"War?" Squeaked the Prime Minister who had been brushing an appreciative hand over the fine oak of his desk. "Surely you must be exaggerating!" At the shake of Fudge's head, the Prime Minister reprimanded himself. Fudge was not the type to joke. No, not ever.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to the world of the living and has been joined by those of his followers who had recently broken out of Azkaban in January." A pinched look crossed Fudge's face when he mentioned the escape, another escape. He once again began to twirl his bowler hat. "Since they have moved into the open, they have been wrecking havoc non-stop. First was the Brockdale Bridge. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named actually threatened a mass Muggle killing unless I stood aside for him-"

"Good God, so that was your fault? I'm having to answer to all these questions and concerns in regards to rusted rigging and corroded expansion joints because of you? God only knows what else I have to answer to in here," the Prime Minister exclaimed while pointing to the fact of his messily covered desk.

"My fault? Mine?" Fudge had stood, dropping his bowler at his feet. "So you are telling me that you would have caved into the blackmail?" This made the Prime Minister second guess his quick judgment.

"I would have put all my efforts into catching the blackmailer before he committed the crime."

"Do you really believe that I did anything but the best to prevent that from happening? Can you honestly? Every Auror in the Ministry was and is trying to find and stop him while rounding up his followers. We happen to be talking about one of the most powerful wizards of all time here, not some mediocre magician! This is a wizard who has eluded capture for almost three decades!" Fudges face was growing redder by the minute and he struggled to keep his remaining cool.

"I am left only to guess he created the hurricanes in the West as well?" As the conversation continued to progress, the Prime Minister felt as if the last few strands of his sanity were forever lost. Giants? Evil Wizards? Death Eaters? How was he to explain this all to the public? Internally, the Prime Minister laughed at his idiodicy. Looking back, he began to wish he had never won the election in the first place. If it meant being contently unaware in pure bliss, he would gladly take it verses being the sole Muggle allowed to bare the weight that knowledge of the Magical world could cause.

"….losing Amelia Bones." Fudge finished off on what the Prime Minister could not fully recall.

"Losing who?"

"The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. We believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may have murdered her in person." Fudge sighed once again, sinking into his seat dejectedly.

"Why?" The Prime Minister questioned. He recalled reading about the killing in his own paper.

"Because she was a very gifted witch and all of the evidence proves that she put up one hell of a fight," Fudge answered without meeting the gaze of his host.

"But the murder was in our newspaper," the Prime Minister whispered, astounded and surprised that something magical had made it into the commoner news. "It was a very nasty killing that has left the police baffled. The newspaper had a field day with it considering it was just around my corner!" The Prime Minister pointed a finger back towards a portrait of a man with a silver wig atop his head.

"And as if that was not enough, we have dementors running about uncontrolled!"

"I thought the dementors-"

"-Guard the Prison of Azkaban. Yes, they did until they abandoned their post to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I won't pretend that it wasn't a blow to the Ministry considering we were supposed to be the ones they followed." Fudge interrupted the cry of outrage that the Prime Minister had been all prepared to complete.

"But aren't they dangerous? Didn't you say they drained all the hope and happiness from their victims?" The reminder of this fact sent chills of fear and disgust up and down the Prime Ministers spine.

"Yes and they're apparently breeding. That is what has been causing all of the mist."

"Breeding…" The Prime Minister said in a half laugh-half crazed voice. "Fudge you have got to do something! It's your responsibility as Minister of Magic!" Demanded the outraged, frightened, and concerned Muggle Minister. Fudge openly laughed at the order coming from the man; however, not for the reasons the Prime Minister would have at first believed.

"It's very kind of you, Prime Minster, but there is nothing that I am able to do. You see, I was simply sent here to deliver you the news. Since this whole ordeal began, the Wizarding community has been screaming for my resignation. I was sacked three days ago!" Towards the end of his semi-hysteric speech, Fudge grew somber, falling in on himself and once again on the receiving end of the Prime Ministers pity. When the Prime Minister tried to apologize, Fudge waved off his concern and told him that the new Prime Minister would be arriving. Suddenly, the portrait of an ugly man in a large silver wig spoke, stating that the Minister of Magic wished to have an appearance with the Prime Minister. Sighing in defeat, the Prime Minister agreed, wishing that he portrait was removable. Sadly, he had tried to have it removed and all attempts failed.

Both Fudge and the Prime Minister turned to watch the flames of the fire place turn green before a figure uncurled from within. Fudge immediately rose to his feet but it took the Prime Minister a moment longer to mirror the action. At first, the Prime Minister foolishly thought that the one introduced to him as Rufus Scrimgeour looked much like an old lion. His great man had several streaks of grey highlighting it and, under his bushy eyebrows, he had bright yellowish eyes. He wore a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy and loping grace. Though the man walked with a limp, he still seemed to be quite powerful and imposing. The Prime Minister held no doubts as to why the Wizarding community sought to have him as their Minister of Magic.

"How do you do?" Rufus questioned while offering a hand. The Prime Minister shook it and watched as the man limped to the door, tapping it with his wand. The sound of a lock sliding in place could be heard.

"I'd rather that be unlocked."

"And I'd rather not be interrupted." Already the Prime Minister was unsure of what to think of the new Wizard Minister. By the time the two were ready to leave, the Prime Minister was debating on typing up his own resignation speech. The news was no different with the newest Minister of Magic. The only thing new the Prime Minister had learned was that a man by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt had been placed as his protection. At first, the Prime Minister had believed him to be normal. He was fooled.

Apparently, the Ministry of Magic did not wish to have the Prime Minister easily cornered and placed under an Imperious Curse. Thus, they had been able to sneak an Auror into his office. The only reason the Prime Minister decided to continue being aided and protected by Kingsley now was due to the fact of his hard work and quick skills. Before the two wizards had managed to leave through the fire in which they had arrived, the Prime Minister sent them one last question.

"For heaven's sakes, you're wizards! Isn't there something you can do? Some sort of magic?" Both wizards had turned to face him, faces solemn and tired.

Scrimgeour was the one to answer, however, "The trouble is, Prime Minister, that the other side can do magic, too." With that, both men vanished, leaving a troubled and scared Muggle man in their wake. Not only did the Prime Minister now have to worry about answering to the questions that were caused by magical beings, now he had to worry about a very dangerous wizard trying to kill him. Reaching into his desk, the man pulled out a bottle of Aspirin.

…

Miles away, two cloaked figures stood on the doorstep of the last house on Spinner's End, a street full of rather rough looking houses. A very dim light glimmered through the old curtains hanging in the window of a downstairs room. Lifting a small and very pale hand, one of the cloak figures knocked persistently at the door. The figure beside the other shuffled nervously, throwing scathing look's towards the one knocking.

Several minutes passed before the old door before the two figures creaked open ever so slightly. A sliver of a tall and dark man stood in the crack, scrutinizing the two visitors that were calling so late in the night. The one that had knocked on the man's door reached up and threw back her hood. Long platinum white hair cascaded down her back. Her pale skin was slightly flushed from both tears and the trek to make it to this location.

"Narcissa!" The man gasped while taking a step back and opening the door wider, making sure that it was not his eyes deceiving him; it wasn't. Narcissa Black Malfoy stood upon the front step looking much like a woman who was missing part of her soul. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Severus," came the strained whisper, "I must speak with you at once. May I come in?"

"Of course," the man named Severus nodded and fully opened the door, allowing her and her companion to enter into his house.

"Snape," snapped the still hooded figure as she followed after her companion.

"Bellatrix," was the reply gifted to her. Severus Snape's thin mouth curled slightly into a mocking smile. Closing the door with a quick snap, he moved to lead them directly to the small sitting room. Both Narcissa and Bellatrix had the feeling of being in a dark, padded cell as they looked upon the room. The place had an air of neglect filing it and only the barest of necessities filled the room. Books lined every inch of the walls, a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in the center of the room. Above them, a candle filled lamp cast a eerie light over the room.

With a wave of his hand, Snape motioned for his guests to seat themselves upon the sofa. Narcissa through herself down, removing her cloak and tossing it to the side; however, Bellatrix simply moved to stand behind her, guarding her and ready to attack Snape should the need arise.

"What can I do for you?" Snape asked after settling himself in the armchair opposite of the two sisters. Looking upon them, Snape was reminded of the Yin-Yang sign. Though they were related, Narcissa with her pale skin, eyes, and hair was a perfect contrast to Bellatrix's dark eyes and hair.

"We…we're alone, aren't we Severus?" Narcissa questioned with a shaky voice. Her eyes darted around the room nervously.

"Wormtail is the only other one present in the house. I don't believe, however, that you were counting vermin, though," Snape flicked his wrist and a loud squeak of protest sounded from behind some shelving of books. Soon, the squeak was followed by the sound of hurried footsteps up the stairs. "The Dark Lord has seen fit to have Wormtail assist me. I offer my apologies since he has lately taken to listening at he doors. I'm unsure as to what he means by it, but, nevertheless. You were saying Narcissa?"

"I shouldn't be here and I know I ought not to speak of this to anyone-" Narcissa began with a shudder and another quick look around the room.

"Which is why you ought to hold that tongue of yours, sister!" Bellatrix growled while squeezing the scared woman's shoulder. "Particularly in present company."

"Present company?" Snape echoed Bellatrix sarcastically. "And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?" When Snape's eyes caught sight of Narcissa about to interfere, he held up a hand, silencing her all except for a choked sob.

"I believe we should hear out exactly what Bellatrix has to say. That is, if we plan to get any further into the reason of your visit," Snape suggested and this caused Bellatrix to grin maliciously. She obviously had reason to believe she had managed to catch the man in a snare. Snape ignored the look and summoned three drinks with his wand. Narcissa took hers and hurriedly gulped it down with shaky hands. Snape merely sipped upon his while Bellatrix took but did not drink of hers.

"Why is it that you do not seem to trust me, Bellatrix?"

"A hundred reasons and more!" She yelled while walking towards him. Slamming her glass upon the table, she sent Snape a deadly glare. "The question is where to start! How about, where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make an attempt to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you lived with Dumbledore and served as his lap dog? Why did you stop the Dark Lord from claiming the Sorcerer's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for him? And why, Snape, have you failed to kill Potter in the many years you have been teaching him?!" The dark haired woman's chest heaved heavily as she tried to catch her breath and calm herself. When Snape dared to smile at her expense, however, it was all for naught.

"I do ever so hope that you take my words and carry them to the others that have been whispering behind my back. You dare to criticize me when you and the others hold yourselves in such high regards as to think yourselves smarter and more cunning than our own Dark Lord? Why, Bellatrix, have you not taken the time to think of what good it would do for me to side with Dumbledore? Could you have possibly forgot how powerful our Master is in the art of Legilimens?" Snape continued to lazily drink from his glass while steadily smirking haughtier at the reddened face of the embarrassed Bellatrix.

"Though I regret to admit, I had first believed the Dark Lord to have been finished. This is why I did not dare to hunt for him in the first place. I have long since seen my mistake and curse myself for ever having doubt in my Master's abilities; however, if the Dark Lord had not forgiven those like myself, he would have few followers left-"

"He would have me!" Bellatrix yelled, stomping her foot and glaring harder at the man she considered a traitor. "I who spent years in Azkaban for him while you sat happily perched on a stool, answering to Dumbledore like that of a puppet on a string."

"Oh yes, you are indeed most admirable." Snape answered in a very bored tone. "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him while in prison, were you?" Snape continued, ignoring the look of outrage playing across Bellatrix's face. "I was not playing the part of a puppet or lap dog to Dumbledore. As you know, I have still yet to be given my most sought after job as Defense Against The Dark Arts. Why did I continue to stay given this? I stayed because the Dark Lord ordered me to spy upon Dumbledore. He was quite pleased to see that I had not abandoned my post. Better yet, I had sixteen years of information to give him. They were, if I say so myself, quite more useful than your sixteen years in prison."

"But you stayed-"

"Yes, I stayed. I had a comfortable job and a chance to obey the Dark Lord without landing and rotting away in Azkaban until his return. As you know, after the fall they began rounding about Death Eaters. So, I played to Dumbledore's weakness and managed to land in his protection. He vouched for me and protected me by giving me a job, although not the one I wanted, inside of Hogwarts. It was the perfect opportunity to grow close, earn his trust, and gather the information the Dark Lord would surely need. Though, at the time, I did not know of his return. Nevertheless, it has proved fruitful that I did as I had. As for stopping him from retrieving the Sorcerer's Stone, I saw how greedy Quirrel was and could not stand to see our Master stuck with the body of such a mediocre Wizard. Yes, I regret that he had not been able to come to power three years sooner, but it worked out in the end."

"Why didn't you return when first called? Why did you return two hours later?" Bellatrix demanded, still hoping to catch Snape in a lie.

"I returned two hours later on Dumbledores order-do not interrupt me!" Snape growled, truly fed up with her attitude. "Think, Bellatrix, think! By making Dumbledore believe I was on his side, I can gather more information that will and has proved essential to the Dark Lord. I have been nothing but faithful to my Lord and he has seen that. As for not appearing at the latest battle, I was under his orders to stay behind. I would not expect you to understand this seeing as you are undermining his authority by questioning me as it is."

"And Potter?!"

"Potter is the favorite of Dumbledore. What good would it do to kill him and be sent off to Azkaban? I would be as useful to the Dark Lord there as you were. I serve a better purpose by pretending and laying in wait until the Dark Lord see's fit to tell me otherwise," Snape finished as he took one last sip from his drink. He watched in satisfaction as Bellatrix deflated and took her position next to her sister, sulking.

"Now, I believe you came to ask for my help, Narcissa?" Snape turned his attention to more important matters. The woman whom had been watching the scene before her quietly now visibly paled again. She started to shake and Snape stood to approach her.

"The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it. He doesn't want anyone to k-know of his p-plan…" Narcissa stuttered while looking around again in panic.

"Then you should not speak of it. The Dark Lord's word is law," Snape spoke only to have Bellatrix echo her agreement. He ignored Bellatrix and strode to his curtains, checking outside and then closing them tightly. "However, it so happens that I know of the plan in which you speak. I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Still, had I not bee in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of treason."

"But I just knew you must be in on it… I mean…you are one of his most t-trusted," Narcissa hiccupped, struggling to calm her erratically beating heart. Bellatrix was startled to know of Snape's inclusion into the plan; it did not set well with him. Although he had managed to answer her questions, she still held her doubts.

"Severus…my son…my only son," Narcissa threw herself at Snape, crying into his robes. Bellatrix opened her mouth, saying how she would be proud to sacrifice her son if it would help the Dark Lord. This only helped to make Narcissa's sobs grow louder and shriller. The love of a mother was a strong thing.

"He's sixteen; he has no idea as to what the mission has in store for him! Why, Severus? Why my son? It's too dangerous for him, please, why? It's for vengeance against Lucius isn't it? I just know it is," Narcissa began to break down again, falling in on herself as her sobs shook her entire body.

"If Draco succeeds," Snape spoke slowly and softly, "he will be honored above all others."

"He won't succeed! You, me, the Dark Lord, all of us know it's true; it's impossible! How can he when the Dark Lord himself-"Bellatrix's gasp of shock and outrage stopped Narcissa from finishing her sentence.

"I only meant…that nobody has yet to succeed…Severus…please….you're Draco's favorite teacher, Lucius' old friend, and one of the Dark Lord's most trusted…please-"

"The Dark Lord will not be persuaded. You know this is true Narcissa." Snape answered flatly while taking her hands in his, trying to calm her. "I cannot pretend that our Master is not angry; he is. Lucius has managed to bring the anger of the Dark Lord upon him; however, do not doubt in your son's abilities lest you dig him a grave already."

"Our Lord does not mean him to succeed! He means him to die! My only son, Severus; he's my only son…"

"He is very mad…"

"My son…my only son…"

"I would gladly give up my sons…You should be proud!"

Narcissa screamed out in agony. Snape reached down, grasping her by the arms and hauling her up. Dragging her to where he had once sat, he refilled her drink with a tap of his wand and ordered her to drink. "Narcissa, that's enough. Drink this and listen to me." She quieted only a little but obeyed and drank. She slopped the wine down herself, swallowing a large gulp.

"I might be able to help Draco…" Snape spoke while watching Narcissa's eyes widen at the possibility. "I can try." Narcissa grabbed his hands and pressed a kiss to them, thanking him over and over.

"Will you swear it? Will you make an unbreakable vow? To protect him? My son?" Narcissa begged, hoping beyond hope for a once of luck. The thought of losing her only son made her heart ache terribly. Snape's expression was blank for a while and Bellatrix began to mock her sister's attempts and Snape's supposed loyalty.

"I will." Both women were stunned to silence. That night, Severus Snape swore to watch over Draco Malfoy as he attempted to fill the Dark Lord's wishes; to protect Draco Malfoy from any harm that may come to him; and, if proved necessary, carry out the deed that the Dark Lord had ordered of Draco Malfoy should it seem Draco should fail. With each oath he swore, a red ribbon tied around his and Narcissa's hand, fulfilling the unbreakable vow.

…


Good Lord (and not Voldemort lolXD), 5,000 words! I hope you all enjoy. Thank you to my reviewers. You all are the reason why I work so hard on this story. Yes, there was not a lot of Cosmos and Sirius in this chapter; however, this was essential for the story line.

I'll see you when reviews hit 30! Until then :D

RxR

Sesshy

PsT! Thanks to all my reviewers (too tired to type tonight and my fingers are stiff from typing so much lol)