Harry woke up early the next mourning. The sun had just broke the horizon, sending golden rays into the Gryffindor dorms. Shrugging the tired off of himself, Harry got up, damning the headache that plagued him. He had a plan, and he intended to not let anything stop himself this time. Throwing some robes on silently, he descended into the empty common room.

Crossing into the school grounds, Harry made his way down the lake's shore line, going over the hill where below the white tomb would lay. Bathed in golden sunlight, it stood out from the surroundings like Dumbledore himself had stood out from the rest of the world in life. But to his dismay, he found that he was once again not alone.

Standing quite alone, the blonde haired Draco Malfoy seemed lost in thought before the grave. Not quite sure what to expect, Harry continued on hesitantly, his had around one of the two wands in his pocket. Draco made no acknowledgment of Harry's presence at first, even when Harry stood beside him. After a few moments of silence, Draco spoke.

"It isn't fair, you know." His voice seemed to crack, like he was fighting tears. "Why the hell does everyone give you such hero worship? Your were a fucking baby…it's not like you beat him. I saw his spell reflect off of you. Everyone thinks you're a fucking prodigy, but your nothing other then a kid who got lucky."

"I never said I was any different." Harry began, anger starting to build inside him. So he thinks I enjoy this shit? "You're the one who thinks I ask for it."

You don't do you?" Draco lashed back, and despite the anger in his face, his eyes were red. "So What the fuck have you been doing this whole time? Fighting dementors, closing the chamber of secrets, breaking into the ministry, stealing from grignots….anything to get attention! Just cause you have some weird protection you keep throwing yourself into danger, so the Prophet can have you as their front page."

"I didn't have a choice!" Harry roared back, his hand shaking on his wand, which had somehow found his side. "And who the hell are you to tell me shit? You sided with Voldemort, you let death eaters into Hogwarts-" Pointing his wand at Draco's chest, he continued relentlessly. "And it's because of YOU Dumbledore is dead!"

Draco's eyes suddenly filled with tears. He did nothing to defend himself, not even raising his wand in defense. "Snape killed him! You know that! The dark lord MADE forced me into it! You don't have a family to worry about, your family is dead! He would have murdered mine, and unlike you, I would have given a damn about what would have happened-"

•A flash of light struck Draco in the chest. He keeled over, Gasping in pain as his skin turned red like a terrible sun burn had overcome him in an instant. Harry felt the rage run through his veins, and the only vent was the suffering of his hated enemy. This arrogant bastard child who obsessed with the dark arts had plagued him for so many years. He was out of school now, and they were both adults. Now he could exact every bit of pain and anger he wanted upon him. Seeing him blister and boil brought a dark satisfaction to Harry, an evil he never felt before, and for a moment, he felt his hand raise his wand again, ready to deliver more undo harm to the cowardly prat before him, but he gathered himself.

Don't…you ever…." Harry began, memories of his parents continuing to flash before his eyes. "EVER tell me I don't give a damn about them." Draco looked up from the ground, his face burning red with blisters and boils. "They died fighting Voldemort. They gave everything to make a better world, which is a hell of a lot more then can be said about the cowardly psychotic lot that raised YOU!"

Within a moment, Draco had drawn his wand and two flashes of light collided. Harry countered, animating some of the lake's water, sending it cascading in the form of 3 magnificent phoenix' that attempted to envelope Draco, which broke worthlessly over a hasty shield spell that surrounded him. The shield turned into a black aura of shadow, and with Draco's command, rushed Harry like a storm. With a quick flick of his wand, Harry turned the burning hot cloud into warm steam, which washed over him harmlessly. He had barely enough time to act when Draco sent out a gout of flame from his wand, intent upon devouring him. The strength of Harry's shield not only protected Harry; it knocked Draco to the ground, sending his wand flying in the air. With a quick accio, Harry snatched the wand from mid air and stood over his defeated opponent, his mind racing with what spell he should use against him. Before he could decide, however, he felt his wand go flying from his hand, landing beside him. Turning to see this new enemy, he found professor McGonagall and Michael Cain rushing down the grounds, Michael stuffing his wand away. Damning his luck, he took back his wand and stuffed it in his robes, hatred still flooding ever portion of his mind.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall cried, her eyes looking at the scene before her. "What is the meaning of this?"

•"Clearly, head mistress," Michael answered, his voice calm and controlled. "it would appear that Mr. Potter feels he has been wronged by the Malfoy child." His black eyes danced across the scene, resting a few moments upon the slightly injured Draco who looked back with fear and hesitation.

"He insulted my parents!" Harry blew up, his eyes pleading with the professor who seemed ill inclined to accept his reasoning for battling upon Dumbledore's grave

"….Mr. Potter," She began calmly, but her rage was evident. "While you are no longer a student at Hogwarts, I do expect you to follow all the guidelines we have placed upon the grounds, and I trust you know, your previous rule breaking not withstanding, that dueling over the grave of Albus Dumbledore is WELL outside proper conduct!"

" Forgive me, headmistress, but my time is short." Michael stated, seemingly uninterested in McGonagall's rage. "Perhaps we can continue our conversation in your office?"

For a brief moment, it seemed as if McGonagall would deny him, but taking a deep breath, she answered. "Yes…Mr. Potter, I want you in my office at 12.00.."

"Yes, professor." Harry answered. Without explaining, Harry moved toward the white tomb, placing the wand of destiny upon it. For the briefest of moments, he hesitated, his mind on all the possibilities that such a wand could bring him, but just as fast, he gathered himself once more, taking out his own phoenix feather wand, he tapped the death stick, muttering "Descendo" and at once, the wand disappeared into the grave below.

Now why the hell did this have to feel so damn amazing and awkward at the same time?

Ron had his arm around Hermione, her head resting on his chest. They both stared silently into the fire, lost within their own thoughts. This IS what he had wanted, after all. He did have the girl he loved beside him, and it did feel great…but something about the newness of the experience shared between them still felt odd. But who the hell cared? Being this close to Hermione was great, and he wasn't about to let it end. They had had little time since Voldemort's death to just enjoy what they shared, that being love. The war had taken so much from everyone, and with the loss of his brother, this was the only thing he had to keep himself happy. He wanted desperately to leave Hogwarts, and he felt their departure that afternoon couldn't come soon enough.

"I'm gonna have to give Harry props for turning Malfoy into a lobster . Fucking brilliant." Ron smiled, his memories resting upon the hastily and ill covered Draco being rushed into the infirmary.

"It was NOT brilliant, Ron." Hermione retorted, continuing to allow him to hold her close. "He should know better then to let Malfoy provoke him like that."

"Who says he was provoked?" Ron answered, seeing in his mind's eye the Malfoy ferret bounce up and down like a yo yo. "It's our last day here. I would have killed to get a chance to try a few new hexes on the prat."

"Ron….your hopeless." Hermione sighed, cuddling up closer to him.

The sound of footsteps announced Ginny's presence. She took her seat on the floor in front of them, playing with Arnold the pigmy puff. Adjusting slightly in his seat, Ron felt a bit of discomfort in the form of metal on his chest Hermione was applying pressure to. Breaking away for a moment, he took out the necklace that had once held the horacrux he had destroyed. He didn't know why he kept it…probably just a momento of his accomplishment in helping to defeat Voldemort. But it was icy cold now. Really odd…

"You STILL keep that thing?" Ginny asked, her eyes growing large staring at it.

"Well, yeah….it can't really harm anyone anymore, right?" Ron answered.

"Ron…" Hermione began. Here she goes….Ron thought. "I don't know if it's safe to keep something like that around…."

"Oh yeah, come on Hermione, did YOU just toss away that cup and tiara?" Ron replied, feeling satisfied as she turned slightly red.

"I don't keep it on my PERSON, Ron." She answered, pointing to her purse that held considerably more then it would appear to be able to. "Even the remains of a Horacrux contain a lot of dark magic."

"Well…it can't hurt a person, can it?" Ron asked, uncertainty creeping up in him.

"No. but it can act up sometimes…" She answered mysteriously. "Things opposed to a horacrux' nature have been known to come across misfortune when in close proximity. Think of it like an unluck spell, except only on things that are human, like love or compassion."

"….Oh…." Ron replied. That explained it's sudden coldness. Maybe it wanted to ruin their love? Good luck with that. Ron thought setting it on the table beside them. He wasn't about to stop wearing it. He felt a certain sense of pride wearing a 7th of Voldemort's soul around his neck. And he wasn't about to loose that one real feeling of accomplishment.

"Anyhow, any of you have any idea what Michael was doing here with McGonagall?" Ginny asked, letting Arnold attempt to bite her finger.

"Beats me…" Ron answered stretching back out. "Maybe he wanted to bang the hell out of her. I pity to bloke if he did, but-"

"No Ron, try to be serious here." Hermione said, looking exasperated.

"I doubt someone like him would need to be chasing older women." Ginny answered. Her and Hermione shared a smile that sent a shot of jealousy through Ron.

"ANYHOW." Ron said loudly, attempting to remind them that he was present and not at all too keen on knowing who his sister and his love found attractive. "The bloke was probably after something not so good, but who gives a fuck? McGonagall would see through him like nearly headless Nick."

"I don't know Ron…" Hermione answered. "We know he is up to no good, but McGonagall doesn't know that. And with no proof, I don't think she would hear us out anyhow."

"Are you serious Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Have you ever tried lying to her? She's more watchful then a hawk, that one."

•Shrugging, Hermione got up, taking her bag with her. "I'm going upstairs, need to get some stuff ready."

Taking her time, Hermione packed her things. There were so many memories here she had…bad and good. The first year had been terrible at its beginning. No friends or comfort, she desperately just wanted to feel like she belonged in this new world she had been shown. Despite how frightening the troll incident had been at the time, she couldn't help but smile thinking back on it. That troll had given her two friends she would never loose. She valued everything about Ron and Harry…even Ron's stupid freckles. Come to think on it, It was ultimately Voldemort that had unleashed that troll through his servant. And thus, it was Voldemort that had brought them together. Taking the cup within her purse, she examined it. This destroyed part of Voldemort had been part of a whole that had brought her more love then she could have ever known. It was no longer the beautiful artifact it had once been…from bottom to top it had turned black, and a large still smoldering section was missing from where she had sent the basilisk fang into it's front. It was so odd to consider how much had changed in her life since she had found Harry and Ron.

Ron came in quietly, setting her purse down beside her. Turning, she found him a lot closer then she had expected, but it was welcome. He stared at her for a moment, and she was suddenly very aware of how quickly she was breathing.

"You…left it downstairs so I thought I'd…." He began. Stumbling as he looked into her eyes, he looked away, instead concentrating on the goblet in her hand. "I thought….you said they were…dangerous." He said clumsily.

"Yes…."She said. The cup was suddenly icy cold. She barely took notice, his warmth washing over him. "I was just…" Not knowing what to say, she stopped.

"Just holding a deadly, dangerous piece of the darkest magic known to the wizarding world?" He said with a smile. His joke broke the atmosphere of awkwardness immediately. Laughing softly, she continued to eye him with a look of longing and uncertainty.

"Well you know…" She answered. "It's an occupational hazard of being friends with Harry."

•With a slow movement, Ron took the goblet from her, and set it down on the table beside them. Pulling her in close, she felt his body press against hers. Oh god, why did this feel so odd but so right? He moved in, taking her lips with his. She could feel her body react pleasantly…she shook slightly, enjoyment taking her as her body pulled into his. Pleasure tingled as his lips moved down onto her neck, grazing her skin softly. He pushed her down slowly onto the bed, his legs and her's intertwining as he began to suck on her neck. Pressing her hips against his crotch, he let out a low moan, her entire body tingling with anticipation. Their bodies moved together as he continued, her hands under his shirt on his back, her nails digging slightly into his back, leaving red marks but not cutting deeply. Ron let out a small gasp of pain and pleasure, his hand slipping under her shirt finding her breasts. Rubbing her erect nipples, she let out low moan as he bit onto her neck. And with the gasp came an almost silent word.

"…Harry…" Hearing the name she uttered, she stopped, pulling away from Ron. He got off of her, concern on his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go so fast…" He said quickly. "I was just….well….heated."

"No, its alright!' She answered, thanking all aspects of creation that he did not hear her. "I just… I'm just not ready…"

"Okay. We don't have to if you don't want to." He replied.

•Getting up quickly, she fixed her clothing and left the room as fast as possible. It didn't feel right…It wasn't right at all. Oh god, she had been so into it….what turned her off so suddenly? Harry was a one night thing, that was all. It made no sense that it should make things between her and Ron uncomfortable. Sex with Ron was supposed to be easy, enjoyable and comfortable, not so….not so not right!. She loved Ron…every ounce of her knew this, so why didn't it feel right? And why the FUCK was it so easy with Harry?

How she wanted the invisibility cloak right then….she wished she could just disappear. She was so ashamed of herself, of her inability to give Ron what not only he had wanted for years, but what she too longed for. Sex with Ron meant they were official; together as a couple. That's how she wanted it to be. Then again, she always meant for Ron to take her virginity, NOT Harry. But why didn't she feel bad about Harry? It was a mistake, but why didn't it FEEL like a mistake? How can you be so comfortable with someone you don't love but feel completely wrong sleeping with someone you do love?

It made no sense at all….it was so insane. She could sleep with her love's best mate, but not with her love. And the worst part of it was that all she could think about was another night with Harry.

Thanking god for McGonnagal's forgetfulness, Harry came back to the common room half past noon. Not wishing to give her a second chance at punishment, he quickly began packing all his things. He would leave early for number 12 Grimmauld Place, and hopefully leave behind Hogwarts for good.

It would seem highly unlikely that the Auror's would turn him down a job after felling Voldemort, so completing his 7th year seemed a waste of time at a place he scarcely could stand to look at anymore. Besides, he had the gold to survive for a long time without worry, he reasoned unfolding multiple cloaks as he shoved them into his traveling case. There really wasn't any reason he would ever have to see the castle that stood only to remind him of all the lives lost because of his failure's again.

Casting a quick spell, the traveling case floated along in his wake as he left the room. Perhaps being an Auror wasn't a good path for him after all. Hadn't he caused enough pain trying to save others? Wouldn't he just end up causing more misery by continuing to play hero? Draco's reaction was perhaps the most honest opinion he had gotten. Wrong, but at least it said what many must be thinking. It was pretty sad...if he wasn't an attention seeking lair, he was a hero that saved the wizarding world. Couldn't anyone see the truth? He was only a failure, a failure with a mother's protective spell that could save no one but his own useless life.

Harry's brooding continued all the way to the gates, where he turned on the spot and with a loud pop! he disappeared.

The atmosphere of Grimmald Place hadn't changed too much since his last visit. Most of the darker objects and items had been removed, but the linger of it's aura still flowed through the halls like an invisible gas. The portraits remained hidden from view, obscured by velvet hangings that lined the walls in regular intervals. Walking through the rooms, Harry continued to reflect upon his various failures, remembering all the people he had known that had once walked these halls, but would never come through here again.

Harry took his time unpacking. Feeling he didn't deserve his Godfather's room, he took Regulus' instead. The house remained in a state of suspended animation since he had last left it, save for a thin layer of dust that had taken to covering many surfaces. No longer under the care of Kreacher, the home had not known a true cleaning in sometime. Perhaps it was for the better; cleaning made it easier to not concentrate on the thoughts that were plaguing Harry.

The sound of movement in the room above him caught Harry's attention. Quietly, Harry withdrew his wand, proceeding up the stairs softly. There was no reason for anyone to be inside. His heart racing, he placed his hand on the doorknob, preparing himself for anything as he threw the door open.

Hermione stood quite shocked, wearing nothing more then her black bra and the dress skirt from school. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood frozen, her eyes meeting Harry's for a second. Without knowing he still had his wand pointed at her chest, he froze up, not sure what to do until...

"HARRY!" She yelled, grabbing her wand from the desk and with a quick flick, her shirt rushed over to her. "What are you doing?"

Making to shut the door, but only succeeding at fumbling with the doorknob, he tried to back out, only to stumble into the wall beside him. "Sorry! I- I didn't know-...heard noises, I didn't know you were here!"

"Turn around!" She yelled, and Harry obeyed at once as she tossed it over her head, quickly recovering herself. "You should KNOCK sometimes, you know!"

Not daring to turn around, Harry continued his conversation to the wall. "Hey I'm really sorry, okay? How the hell was I supposed to know you weren't some death eater out for revenge or something?"

"You can turn around now." She said, fixing her shirt and mustering the most composer she could. "Just do try to be more careful Harry...if your gonna be staying with a girl you need to be more conscious of these things."

Feeling his cheeks burn red, he faced her trying to hide his shame. Feeling horribly awkward, he quickly changed the subject. "So...when did you get here anyhow?"

"Oh um..." She said quickly, obviously trying hard to do the same. "Like an hour ago. I...I wanted to get out of the school for a bit."

I think I can get that pretty well... He thought darkly, trying hard not to think of what he had just seen. Finding that impossible, Harry let his eyes wander the room so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye because he was sure if he did he wouldn't be able to bear the shame. Mercifully, one item of interest stood out. The goblet of Helga Hufflepuff. "You still keep that around?" Harry asked, pointing it out.

"What? Oh, that..." She answered distractedly, giving the goblet a quick glance. Harry moved across the room to examine it. It was odd how warm it was; the room was still quite cool, but it was almost painfully warm to the touch. Then again, it was a deadly, dangerous artifact of evil magic...even the remnants of it must have some dark energy's attached to it. Turning, he noticed just how close he was to Hermione. He hadn't been this close to her since that night. He had expected her to step back, but she didn't, nor did she break eye contact with him. She had a strange look on her face... like she was expecting something. "I know its stupid...keeping something like that around-"

"No it isn't." Harry answered at once. "You should be proud. We all should." He smiled at her. Being this close wasn't a good idea...but Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away. He felt the longing return to him in an instant. Suddenly the idea of being so close wasn't such a bad idea. After all, they had already had sex, so it wasn't a bad thing. But it really wasn't enough. They were alone, single, and already had a history. So why the hell not? Because she is your best mate's girl! He told himself furiously, trying to reason his way through his desires. You don't go fucking your friend's lovers. It's bad enough you did it once. But they aren't lovers. You know they are angling for that. But they still aren't together. What do you need? Them to have some official title to make it wrong?

"Well, thanks Harry..." She said, and with an unexpected spark of nerve, she moved in and kissed him.

Hermione rested her head on Harry's chest, her naked form covering him like the blanket they were wrapped in. It was everything she had hoped for...his gentle touch as pleasant as ever. Her body felt at ease again. No more tension or stress, just a wonderful feeling of completion. She wasn't sure which was worse: that she liked it or that she didn't feel quite so bad about it as she had their first time. Casually, she caressed his chest as she starred into the wall where Black's face had eye's only for Harry, a look of pride on his face. Stupid portrait...true to his character, but still, completely inappropriate. But hey, what she had done was inappropriate. If only her feelings were as clear as her thoughts...then maybe she could sense out why the hell she was giving herself to Harry and not the man she loved.

Michael collapsed to the ground, blood running down his face from a deep wound in his head. His vision was horribly maimed by the last blow the dragon had dealt him...his shield charm had barely managed to keep his head on his shoulders. But he didn't have time to consider his injuries; not when he was bearing down against a black scaled, fire breathing dragon.

The barbed tail slashed through the air with blinding speed, pieces of rock and earth preceding it as Michael's shield charm knocked the tail back with equal strength. Taking his momentary opening before the beast could strike again, he sent out a bolt of fire from his wand, landing full force into the dragon's exposed side. Knocked off balance, but uninjured by the dragon's protective hide, the beast rolled to it's feet, but was knocked back again by two more bolts of blinding white fire. Responding as it took to it's feet, the dragon sent out a gout of flame at Michael, who flicked his wand which at once turned his body into a metallic hue that turned white in the center of the blaze.

The landscape around the white metallic figure continued to burn as Michael stared the dragon down. It took many normal wizards to subdue such beasts...and often with much difficulty. But I am no normal wizard. Michael thought viciously as the dragon prepared it's next onslaught.

Watching with cold red eyes, Voldemort continued to watch the boy's progress. Defeating a dragon was no small feat for all but himself. Bellatrix had nearly died in her attempt. If Cain learned to do what she could not, then there was more promise in the boy's potential that may lead to his freedom from death. It would take major magical power to overcome the creature's hide, but if the boy could muster it from within AND without, he would be able to win.

The dragon took to the air, it's eyes fixed upon the white hot form below him. Taking in a deep breath, it shout out a gout of fire much larger and hotter then the one previous. Preparing himself, Michael focused his strength into a protective charm that surrounded him. Both charm and fire collided, creating a deafening explosion that shook the ground he stood on. Fighting to keep the flame at bay, Michael's spell pushed against the fire, which fought back with terrible power. Keeping his ground, he continued to force the fire back, inch by inch as he struggled to keep himself from succumbing to the weakness of his taxed body. Forcing with every ounce of his soul Michael fought on, until the shield charm pushed straight into the dragon's open maw, which snapped with a loud, sickening break of bone and sinew. The lower half of the dragon's mouth fell to the ground, as the creature cried out in agony. Taking advantage of the creature's opening, Michael carefully aimed his wand and cried out Avada Kedavra! Sending a bolt of green light into the hole that had once been his maw. Falling from the sky, the beast hit the ground with enough force to send Michael to his knees, from which he couldn't find the strength to stand from. Gasping for breath, too exhausted to congratulate himself on his accomplishment, he stared at the ground, only now noticing the pain from his chest, head and leg all of which bled profusely.

"You are improving, Michael." Voldemort said, his eyes watching him pitilessly as he gasped for breath, bearing wounds that would surly kill him if he did not attend to them. "Only through such dangers can you ever learn to overcome your limitations."

Getting the better of his lack of strength, Michael had to take many attempts before being able to succeed at casting a healing spell that restored his health. The very thought of attempting more spell work was impossible for him. Drained like he had never been before, Michael turned to face Voldemort. The torment he would put him through if only he weren't already dead...

"And I suppose THAT was something you did in your third year too?" Michael said sarcastically.

"No...it wasn't." Voldemort smiled wickedly. "I was nineteen when I first felled my dragon. But one must not weight his talents against mine, or they will only ever find disappointment."

How amusing it was to watch him struggle against a creature that he had so easily defeated decades ago. But no matter, he must not waste his time comparing his strengths to the ineptitude of others. He had a theory, and the only way to test this theory was through the use of this boy. But Michael was still not wise enough, nor powerful enough, to put lord Voldemort's plans into action. He had at least been competent enough to master the strength to recover his journal from Hogwarts. Maimed though it may have been by the ignorance of the Malfoy's, if he could see it repaired, he may yet retain a stronger connection to the world of the living. It was indeed a great blessing that Michael wished to learn the secret of multiple horacrux's, otherwise it may have proven much more difficult to fool him into repairing his old safeguards to immortality. Indeed... He thought. How could Michael ever understand my work without replicating it?

"It is clear you have exhausted yourself. Perhaps we shall return to your quarters and continue our studies there?"

It was highly unlike Lord Voldemort to show concern for anyone's physical state. It had never been a surprise to Michael that the dark lord may have some secret plan regarding him, but whatever it may be, he wouldn't allow himself to fall for it. A powerless Voldemort was a highly desirable thing, and Michael Cain intended to keep it that way.

Wordlessly, Michael turned on the spot, and with a loud pop! He disappeared with the shadow of the dark lord.

Cadence stood quite alone in the bedroom her and Michael shared. She eyed herself in the mirror as if searching for something she couldn't quite find. Perhaps the mirror could tell her something she didn't know...or more likely, something she knew that was only a lie.

She had always worked so hard to remain as beautiful as Michael could ever want. Every time he saw him staring at a girl, or admiring the beauty of one of their classmates, she went to the mirror, and with a little bit of effort, took an aspect of her and replicated it. Being able to alter one's own appearance at will was perhaps her only worth while talent that had kept Michael happy. She was always, and always would be, his perfect beautiful wife, untouched by time or the world. It had been so long since she had been her normal self that she had forgotten what she looked like before she had met him.

Perhaps blonde hair would be a nice change for a while. Focusing hard, she concentrated at her reflection until perfectly straight, waist length blond hair overtook her wavy ebony hair. She smiled at the result. Yes...he would really like it. But what about her eyes? Purple didn't go well with her pale complexion and blonde hair. Maybe a deep blue would do the trick. Yes, that was really nice. She looked like that girl Michael dated in their third year...what was her name? Emily? He would be so happy to have a chance to sleep with her again, and now she could give him that chance.

She was always so happy that she could satisfy Michael's needs in a way any other women would never be able to. Michael could never stay long with a single girl...no, he always wanted new flavors, new feelings, new appeal. Every few months she would completely make herself over again, which kept him happy, and as long as he was happy, she felt complete. He was terrifying when angry, but the time she spent with him when they were alone was worth anything. She loved him in a way no one would ever understand...loved him so strongly that anything he ever wanted, he only had to ask and she would do it without hesitation. Maybe he didn't love her...and it was that thought that made her happy she could cover her scars with a simple alteration of her appearance. But even if he didn't, she would stay with him forever, cause one day he would see her utter and total devotion to him, and he would come around to love her back.

She quickly took off her outfit and began hunting for a new outfit that would appeal to her new look. Perhaps her blue dress would accent her eyes? Yes, that would look nice. Continuing through her wardrobe, she tossed a few garments here and there until she found the one she wanted.

"Well, this is a nice change." Michael's said, standing in the doorway. Quite naked, Cadence, smiled at him, half covered by the dress she held. "Normally your clothes are still on when I come home." Smiling, he made his way over to her within a few strides. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her tenderly, his hands gentle on her lower back.

Oh how wonderful it was to be close to him...so intoxicating...

"I'm glad your back..." She answered breathlessly. Letting herself be completely filled up by his prescience, she rested her head against his chest and played with the back of his robes.

"So am I." He answered. "I could really use you about now."

Offering him a seductive smile, she began undoing the buttons that tied together his robes. "Oh really? And just how could you use me, my lord?"

"Well you see, my lady..." Michael began, his hands running slowly down to her chest. Damn, how great it was to have a million different body's all put into one. "Spending many a hour with old dead guys makes you really appreciate the beauty of one like yourself...and what such beauty can offer to a worn out, frustrated man like myself."

His robes fell to the floor. Gently, she lead him to a chair where he sat down. Kneeling obediently, she began stroking his erection, tenderly and carefully sucking as he closed his eyes.

Whatever Voldemort had in store for him next, he didn't know or care. Tonight, he was going to make full use of his servent.