Sorry it's been so long, but I've been out of town. And I have about 700 unread e-mails…I think my e-mail is just freaking out, cuz I've seen most of them before. I'll read them later. I'm so dedicated…:) Anyway, here is Chapter five! Thank you to the few people who reviewed. Especially Stephy-chan. She always makes me like the story again…:) In fact...I dedicate this chapter to you! I hope no one thinks it's crap...I tried my hardest!!

As for the song…Honestly, I was listening to Flyleaf while I wrote this. Not that it really relates…but if you haven't heard the DVD version acoustic versions, you need to! They are amazing!!

Maybe Crushcrushcrush by Paramore? I dunno. The music itself fits the chapter…some lines relate. So yeah…that's the winner!!


Chapter 5 – To Invade Her Privacy


Patricia and Draco were up in his potions room, working on the veritaserum. I'd brought a few books in there to start reading, but had left after a while. They were about ten days into the making of the potions, and apparently, this was a very critical time. (Like I knew.) Claiming that I would distract them, they politely asked me to leave. I didn't mind. For one thing, I disliked how the ingredients smelled, together or apart. Also, I needed fresh materials. I had run into a dead end, and decided I needed a new perspective.

The Malfoys had a large section on charms, although I'd always thought that wasn't their style. Although, the library seemed to be endless, and in comparison, this section was rather small.

I searched through the books, occasionally picking up a book and leafing through it. There were only a few that focused directly on memory charms, but most other books had a section in them pertaining to obliviation, among other memory charms.

A book caught my eye—Charms and the Preternatural. I wasn't sure why I wanted to read it, but I pulled it out anyway. I flipped to the index, searching for obliviation. Locating the page number quickly, I turned to the section.

The book had listings of several preternatural creatures—no, beings, I corrected myself firmly—and the effect that memory charms had on them.

Basilisks, faeries, gnomes, pixies, trolls, unicorns, vampires, werewolves…

I stopped, and looked back at the entry on vampires.

When a memory charm is placed on a vampire, they will be mostly unaffected. They may temporarily have short-term memory loss, which could be considered worse than just a selective memory charm. Even so, they will eventually regain all their memories, even the ones most recently forgotten.

On the other hand, their progeny would not be so lucky, especially when they have interbred.

For example, a half-human, half-vampire would lose the memories completely, but over time, regain feelings, smell, sound, and feelings of touch from memories. If words were spoken, he or she most likely would be unable to make them out.

Without assistance, the memories would never be regained.

I turned the page, looking for more on what this 'assistance' might be. I was disappointed—the entry on werewolves started on the next page. I shrugged. Oh well, I thought. It didn't really matter, anyway. It wasn't really related to what I was looking for.

It was interesting, though, so I put a bookmark in the book, and set it on a nearby table. I would read more later.

I returned to the aisle, and started looking again. Eventually, I climbed the ladder, to look at books on the top shelf.

I pushed myself along slowly, stopping every now and again to look a book that had caught my interest.

After awhile, I glanced at my watch. In doing so, I moved the ladder to the right a bit. I grabbed the shelf reflexively, closely preventing a tumble down the ladder. After catching my breath, I looked back up at the books. In moving the ladder, I'd left the section on memory charms, and entered one on preternatural beings.

The title Half-Human glared out at me. With still trembling fingers, I released the bookshelf, and reached for the book…

And then stopped.

What was I doing? People who were only half human were completely unrelated to our dilemma. I was being ridiculous.

Still, my intuition was spiked, and it told my brain to shut up and just take the book. Sighing, I reached for it again, and slowly climbed down the ladder, clutching it tight to my chest.

I walked towards the table with the other books I'd selected, and then sat down in one of the comfy chairs around the table.

I opened the book to the index, and started to search for vampires. Discovering it easily, I turned to the page indicated in the index. "When a vampire interacts with a human," it began…

the relationship often doesn't last long, especially if the human is fully drained. Vampires may make exceptions, to keep a human familiar around all the time. On occasion, the vampire may actually fall in love with the human familiar. When this is the case, the couple might get married and have a child. There has never been a report of more than one child; perhaps because of the stress bloodletting induces on the human, especially females.

The child of the couple is very volatile. He is often considered beautiful and graceful. He is pale, with platinum blonde hair, almost white, and has gray eyes with yellow flecks. He tends to keep to himself, interacting with others only when he has to. On such an occasion, he will be short and to the point.

The child will be uncomfortable in most situations, because of his lack of social aptitude. Also, his mood will often change, and he might be set off by the slightest thing, and throw a fit.

Furthermore, it is hard for him to find the right temperature. Where most humans would be comfortable, he might be hot, or cold, depending on which parent is more dominant in his features.

As for the effect of spells, when a memory charm is placed on the progeny of a vampire, he would lose the memories completely, but over time, regain feelings, smell, sound, and feelings of touch from memories. If words were spoken, he or she most likely would be unable to make them out.

Without assistance, the memories would never be regained (From Charms and the Preternatural).

'Assistance', as it is so tactfully termed, is the biggest taboo in the Vampire world. It wouldn't be good to give anyone any ideas, so this anthology won't be explaining it.

The entry went on a bit more, but again, 'assistance' wasn't explained. But I'd found what I'd been subconsciously looking for.

That was it. Patricia had a parent who was a vampire. She didn't want us to know, naturally, because many—Draco probably included—would look down on her. I thought it was kind of cool, but most people wouldn't.

I realized that I was being silly, and shook my head, as if to clear it. Patricia wasn't half-vamp. I was just jumping to conclusions. So what if she had some weird qualities? Granted, the book had described her features perfectly, down to the gray eyes with golden flecks, which I had never really thought about before. They were pretty, and unnatural, I supposed. But not preternatural. That was crazy talk.

I got up and left the library before I could come up with some other crazy theory. A vampire, I thought, shaking my head.

I walked towards my room, passing the lab as I did so. Patricia saw me, and called, "Meg? Could you go fetch my wand? I think I left it on my nightstand by accident."

Weird…but okay. Whatever. "Sure. I was headed that way anyway."

"Thanks."

I nodded and continued on my way. There had been nothing unhuman about that interaction. I chided myself for making up fantasies again.

I arrived at her room, and, sure enough, there was her wand. I stepped over to it, picking it up, careful to point it away from myself.

As I started back for the door, I realized that my foot was caught in the strap of a bag. It had fallen open, and a book had slipped out. I sighed, and knelt down to move the bag to a more convenient place, setting the book down briefly while I set the bag closer to her bed. When I turned back to the book, I noticed a slip of paper, very familiar looking, sticking out of the book.

My eyes narrowed. Paper. Why would Patricia have paper? She used parchment—I'd seen her writing while we were here. I was the only one who used paper, a muggle product through and through.

Knowing very well that I was prying, I opened the book to the page with the paper stuck in it. Patricia's willowy handwriting covered the pages, but I recognized the writing I could see through the folded paper as mine.

I took the paper out and unfolded it. My mouth dropped open as I realized it was a letter. The letter I'd written to my mom about ten days ago. I'd never burned it! I must have forgotten in my haste to write to Mrs. Weasley.

Angry, I started to rise, intending to march over to Patricia and demand an explanation.

But then a thought occurred to me. If she invaded my privacy, I would invade hers. Then I would yell at her.

I flipped to first page, and started reading.

By the time I was finished, I knew that I was at least half right about the vampire thing—she was only half human, and she trusted me not to look down on her.

My heart twisted though, when I read about Draco. That wasn't right—Sai was meant for her. But she couldn't remember Sai, and she was only attracted to Draco because he had some of the same mannerisms.

I stood again, clutching her journal and wand, and headed back to the lab.

She was coming out the door, looking a bit upset. She relaxed when she saw me, smiling. "Oh, there you are! I was wondering if you'd gotten lost, or…" The smile faded off her face as she saw my livid expression. She faltered. "Meg? Is everything okay?"

I continued to glare at her stonily. "We need to talk," I hissed. I spun on my heel and stormed back down the hall towards our rooms.

I heard her light footsteps as she rushed to catch up with me. She tried to question me as we practically flew down the hall. "What is it? What did I do?"

I ignored her. The floodgates would be opened soon enough. Upon arriving at her room, I thrust the door open. The knob smacked against the wall with a crack. Patricia grimaced. I stood aside, indicating that she should enter first. Warily, She stepped inside. I slammed the door behind myself, and thrust her wand at her.

She caught it easily. If she hadn't looked worried before, she definitely did now. "What? Are we dueling? Meg, please, tell me what I did to offend you—"

I raised my wand, cutting her off short. As I opened my mouth to speak, and started to wave my wand, I saw her flinch and close her eyes. A natural reaction, albeit a useless one.

"Muflato."

The word, in my flat, lifeless voice surprised her, and here eyes slowly opened. "Muflato?" she repeated in confusion.

I gave her a look, and she took her cue to shut up.

"Please," I said, "Sit."

She obeyed quickly, obviously having assessed the situation enough to know that I was angry enough to hurt her if she didn't do what I asked. Well, commanded. But that word is so harsh…

I closed my eyes, and began to pace, measuring my breath carefully. I stopped pacing, and, still with my eyes closed, asked, "Am I to understand that you feel as though everything you come across is yours?" A rather roundabout question, but it was a good starting place.

She opened her mouth and began to speak, but I held up a hand. "Ah, ah. No talking." I opened my eyes and turned to glare at her. "Behold," I said dryly, "Exhibit A." I opened her journal to the page where my letter was pressed. "You. Took. My. Letter," I said, making each word it's own sentence. Uncomfortably, she shifted. "YOU TOOK MY LETTER!!" I yelled, no longer appearing calm. Call 911, the dams have broken. "WHAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT, EH?"

She started to speak again, but I cut her off. "You just happened to come across it, right? RIGHT? IT NEVER OCCURRED TO YOU THAT, MAYBE, JUST MAYBE…maybe I didn't want you to know about it. Maybe I didn't want anyone to ever read that." I'd run out of steam. Sort of. I was still angry, but some things…you just didn't yell about. Even if you'd put a muffling charm on the room.

Instead, my voice was now dangerously low. "Privacy is very important to me. This letter…should have been destroyed. But now…you know too much." I whipped my wand out, pointing it at her. Of course, I wasn't going to curse her, at least not badly. But she could think what she wanted to.

Timidly, she raised her hand. I wasn't one hundred percent sure about the whole idea of cursing her, so I rolled my eyes and said, "Yes…Patricia."

"I—well, you've obviously read my journal…" she began.

"But only because I saw my paper in it," I inserted.

"Yes, but didn't you sort of do the same thing? Invading my privacy and such?"

"Of course not." Duh. "See, here's what happened. I saw muggle paper—ergo, not parchment—sticking out of your journal. I knew that both you and Draco—" a look on her face told me she liked that phrase too much "—use parchment. I'm the only one who prefers notebook paper and printing paper. So, I hypothesized that you had taken something of mine. Possibly just a sheet of paper, but that didn't really make sense; you could have borrowed some from Draco. So I opened to the page where the paper was inserted, and looked only at the paper. I didn't even open the paper until I made sure that it was my handwriting I could see through it. Then I read it."

"But then you read my journal."

"Yep."

She gave me a look. "Well, isn't that somewhat hypocritical?"

I smiled. "On the contrary. It's somewhat like a Hammurabi code (1). You know, an eye for an eye, so on, so forth. Well, you break into my privacy, I'll break into yours. Not hypocritical…I like to think of it as justice." I smiled, pleased with myself for coming up with such a good argument.

"But—"

"Look, in simpler terms, if you know my deepest secrets, I want to know yours. Got it?"

"Oh." She paused before adding, "But what are your deepest secrets?"

I looked at her in disbelief. "What do you mean? You know two of them, and guessed the third."

She continued to stare at me blankly. Maybe she wasn't as smart as I'd given her credit for. I sighed and opened her journal. "To quote you directly: 'I guess she still writes to her mom, even though she's gone on.' Bingo, secret number one." I searched quickly for the next one. "Secret number two: 'I knew Meg's parents had died, but I never knew she had a brother. A twin brother, even!' And here's what bugs me the most," I continued. "You knew right away…

'Which makes me wonder…is the first husband her father? It would make a bit more sense, then, if he had her twin brother. But she refers to him as 'your first husband'. That makes it seem as though she wants nothing to do with him, perhaps because she does have something to do with him, or maybe because she doesn't. She's always referred to Tom as her father—no, as her dad.

That makes sense. Even if, biologically, Tom isn't her father, he is her dad. The man who actually fathered her (if my theory is correct) never sees her, and thus, she feels no love for him. She may even feel hate. Well, whether or not he is her parent, she does hate him.'

"You know how much it sucks to have my secret out there in the open like that? Is it really so obvious?" I ran a hand through my hair. "I like to think it's not. But you tell me." I waited for her to answer me, but she said nothing. I sighed and continued, "Yeah, Tom was my adoptive father. My biological father has my twin brother back in wherever he is. That or my brother is with his family. Maybe the sperm donor is dead. I don't know, and I really don't care. He's dead to me, and that's good enough."

"But the ministry guard—he accepted what you said without question. That
Tom was your father."

I laughed without humor. "You miss nothing, do you, Patricia?" She blushed in response, but said nothing, so I plunged ahead. "The answer is simple: by ministry records, Tom is my biological father. He had connections. He had the year of my birth changed, so no one would know that my mom was married to someone else at the time of my birth. No one knew.

"I like to tell people that I'm Hogwarts one mistake. My letter came when I was twelve; I knew this. But Hogwarts didn't. By their records, I was eleven. Ask anyone from Hogwarts or the Ministry, and he'll tell you that I'm eighteen. The truth is, though, I'm nineteen. Actually, my birthday was about ten days ago…July 3. The date of this entry, actually."

"Wait, seriously? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know. Birthdays have never been a big deal to me. It just reminds me of my brother, so I try not to think about it.

"Anyway, the only mistake that was made was made by my dad. By Tom." I shrugged. "I'm okay with it, though. I'd rather that Tom was my father. I'd rather that the records were true."

"But…that's awful! Your birth is covered by a lie!"

I looked at her, and saw a little girl who was trying to understand things that were too big for her. This was so strange for me. Before, it had always been the other way around—people saw me as the little girl. But now… I had experience where she had none—lies about my birth.

Well, that wasn't quite true. "I guess. But yours is, too."

She stared at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, as far as anyone knows, you're completely human. But that's not really right, is it?"

She sighed and deflated visibly. "No, it's not."

"Do I have to guess?" I asked. "Because I think I have a good guess."

"Go for it," she said unenthusiastically.

"Let's see…Your mom is a human, and your dad is a vampire."

If she was stunned before, now she was paralyzed. "How…do…you…know that?" she choked out.

"I was right? Sweet."

"Is it that obvious?" she asked hopelessly.

"Eh, maybe, maybe not. Given the right material, I can figure anything out. So it probably wouldn't be obvious to anyone who wasn't close to you. Oh! Come on. I have a few questions for you…" I grabbed her hand and started to pull the door open, but I paused, my hand on the doorknob.

"One more thing?" she guessed.

I nodded, but hesitated before saying anything. I had a feeling that this might be crossing a line.

She seemed to know what I was thinking, though. "Draco?" I nodded. "I don't know, and trust me, I don't like it. But there's something familiar about him, something comforting. It's in how he moves. I—" She stopped, taking a breath before she started to speak again. "I can't help it."

I nodded sympathetically. "I think I can help you. To remember, I mean. I found something in the library, but it's not making sense. I need you to help me understand."

I removed the silencing charm, and opened the door.


Patricia looked up from the books, her face ashen. "I think…" she began, "I think my father may need to bite me."

In confusion I blurted the first thing that popped into my head. "What?" Very eloquent.

"Well, in the second book, it says that assistance is the biggest taboo in the vampire world. As far as I know, it's a huge taboo to feed on a half-vampire. It's like half-cannibalism. Can you imagine? Any vampire who tried it would be shunned, seriously ostracized, if people—no, if vampires—found out that he'd drank the blood of someone who was only half-human. Even more so if it was his child."

"Harsh," I said.

"Yeah, well, that's how it is. Vampires tend to keep to themselves, but there is an underlying sort of society."

"Would your father bite you?"

"I don't know. He's more reclusive than most vampires, so it may not matter to him that he's being ignored. He hasn't left his home in nearly twenty years. Most vampires don't do that—they go out, sometimes in groups, to catch a foolish human to eat."

"Eat?" I repeated.

"I know; it's a mean word. But that's pretty much what they do. Anyway, my dad doesn't have to do that, since he's got a human familiar. My mom. They've been together for like…twenty years. But they were going cross-country for the first two years or so. Then I came along." I smiled at her. "They decided to settle down, out in Wales. Near the Fawr Valley. A very nice place really," I reminisced.

"I'm sure," she inserted virtuously. "But the question is whether or not he'd bite you. And if he would, how long, how much would he have to drink? I don't have experience with this…"

"Yeah, well, neither do I," she pointed out.

"Time to do some homework," I said with a smile, returning to my favorite little aisle.


(With Sasuke)

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sasuke grimaced, irritated with the repetitiveness of this cell. It was dark, which he didn't mind, but it was also damp.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He was used to being underground, having lived with Orochimaru all those years. He was used to the dark, to the damp.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

If anything, it only reminded him of his dark years, when he was obsessed with gaining more power. He'd have stooped to any level at that point, if only he could kill Itachi.

Hindsight 20, 20, as the saying goes. He could see now, that he could be avoiding this situation. He could see every mistake he'd ever made. Mistakes like leaving Sakura on that bench, like betraying Naruto and Kakashi. Betraying Konoha.

All in the name of killing Itachi.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Well, it didn't matter now. He might have the power to kill Itachi—he doubted it—but he was stuck here in prison.

He wished he could hurt someone. Taking it out on someone else would probably make him feel better.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Probably.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Or would he just regret that in the future, too?


(With Karin)

Unlike Sasuke, who was filled with regret and irritation—two feelings she knew were his default—Karin was just grateful to be alive.

Although she'd never betrayed Konoha, and wasn't from there, the blade cut two ways.

For Sasuke, the traitor, Konoha felt a sort of nostalgic sympathy. He would not be killed. He would merely be held captive, for they could not totally forgive him for betraying them.

For Karin, an outsider, there was no anger at betraying them. But she was not one of them. It would cause no one pain to see her simply killed.

Yet she was alive.

And for this, she rejoiced.

She didn't mind the dampness, but rather reveled in the ability to feel it. At least I'm alive to feel the humidity, she told herself sternly.

She didn't mind the dark, which, at first, had taken away her ability to see. Now she could see shadows, guards crouched menacingly at her door. At least I'm alive to be menaced, she reminded herself.

She didn't mind the repetitive drips. At least I'm alive to hear them.

And so, she was content.

Except…

She worried about Sasuke. He wouldn't stand this for long, she knew. He was already frustrated (when was he not?), and soon he'd be angry. (She was surprised it hadn't happened already.) Soon, he'd attempt a breakout, and then they'd be in real trouble.

It was only a question of when it would happen. She waited, relaxing each morning as the sun came up. Sasuke was reckless, for sure, but he was smart enough to know that night was the time to breakout.

So during the day, she tried to sleep. She tried to imagine herself when she and Sasuke were finally released—or however they would get out. It was hard to picture Sasuke as anything but angry, or completely stressed. Even as he'd kissed her the last time, his muscles were tensed, not relaxed, the way they should have been when she kissed him back.

She wondered if they were truly meant for each other. He was so distant, so cold. Would he ever completely settle into the life of someone who actually felt happy? Someone who was in love?

Somehow, she doubted it.

The only thing I can do, she decided, is love him anyway. I'm not letting him get away just because there's a little obstacle in my way.

Night fell, and along with it, came silence. People packed up from the market, and went home. They went to bed.

All, that is, but Karin, and the omnipresent ANBU. Karin was awake, tensed. This was the time that Sasuke would try to make his escape. If he tried to escape, that is. She hoped he wouldn't.

Her hopes were dashed, though, as she heard a scuffle outside of the cell next to hers. Her ANBU guard left his post to help fight whoever it was (pleasepleaseplease not Sasuke, she thought).

It wasn't. It was worse. It was Suigetsu.

"We have to take her?" A whining voice. Karin hated that voice, hated the person, if one could call him that, who owned it.

"Yes. She's my partner in crime, after all," came Sasuke's silky voice.

She sighed, getting up. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," she muttered under her breath. But when the cell opened, revealing Sasuke and Suigetsu, she followed after them.

Because, no matter what she believed, her love for Sasuke made her forget.

She wasn't letting him get away.


Confused? You should be. Sasuke's acting irrationally (big surprise). One second regretting betraying Konoha, the next he's at it again. Something's up here...

Drop a review!

Respectfully yours,

IBG-chan

p.s. Time for excuses. I'll busy next week with a summer camp, so I won't be able to write as much. Beyond that, I have to have my birthday party--er, gathering, since mom says i'm too old for birthday parties--sometime (probably this week...maybe next week.). Also, I've decided to be an overacheiver (as usual) and study chemistry and physics over the summer. I'm doing it independantly, so there's no rigid schedule, but I do want to work on them a little bit. So sometimes, that may take precedence over what I write. Next I'll tackle geometry. Yeah, i'm really glad to be out of that class (I made a 164 last nine weeks...i don't know how, but i'm good with it), but i also dont' want to forget anything. I'm going into pre-cal next year, and that will doubtless be stressful if i don't remember what i'm supposed to. I'll also have to review algebra... man, i sound like i'm some stereotypical asian...ahahaha, i'm not. But I do what i have to. Which is study. And in August, i'll of course be reading Breaking Dawn, (don't fret, this will only take a day or two) but i'll also be attending Band Camp. And i'm supposed to have my music memorized beforehand, so i'll need to practice.

It's a good thing none of you know where i live...you might come eat me...i just gave you practically my whole schedule.

p.p.s. REVIEW!!