BONDED

Chapter 9 The Face of Evil

As Ron stepped over the threshold of their home, 10 Rose Garden, he was met with darkness. It was fitting, as he currently seemed consumed by it. The only bright spot of the evening was the fact that he hadn't been arrested. He had expected to be met with a team of his colleagues as he opened the door to the interrogation room, but he wasn't. He had expected someone to appear and put him in the holding cell beside the one he had placed Sophie Teagarden in, but it didn't happen. As he quickly made his way through the Ministry, he had expected his Chief to be around every corner ready to take his communicator, and march him back to the detainee department, but Weinpret had never appeared.

The speed at which Ron made it home implied that he was in a hurry to see his wife. However, the fact that he was rooted to the spot in the parlor was saying something quite different. One step into the room, and he could see the faint glow of light coming from their bedroom. She was here, she was safe. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he had to talk to her.

Ron took a step and willed the contents of his stomach, however little there was, to stay put. The bedroom door was in front of him before he even realized he'd taken more steps. Silently, he pushed it open and walked inside. Ron could clearly see Hermione in the bathroom, fresh from the shower.

As he filled the doorway, he watched in silence as Hermione stood before the pedestal sink with a white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around her. Tiny bulbs of water hung from her dark ringlets, before they slipped off the end and dropped silently onto the thick cotton towel.

Hermione looked up and caught his eye in the partially steam-fogged mirror, but it was fleeting and she quickly looked away. She busied herself with the thick gelatinous substance she was pumping into her hands. Rubbing them together, she smoothed the stuff through her damp hair, working it in evenly.

The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine filled Ron's nostrils, and made him want to run and grab handfuls of her, inhaling deeply until he was thoroughly suffocated. Instead, he hesitantly cleared his throat and made his way into the bathroom. After he took a seat on the closed toilet lid, Hermione was merely inches away from him now, and if he leaned forward a bit, he'd be able to grab her around the hips and bury his face in the soft fluffy towel. But those inches now felt like miles as she seemed unable or unwilling to even look at him.

Ron watched silently as she ran a large-toothed comb though her hair, causing her wet curls to spring back with a healthy elasticity. He knew it was because of the potion, but found the action hypnotic all the same. He didn't even mind that due to his close proximity, he was getting sprinkled with droplets of the scented water that splashed from her hair.

Although he would be content to sit and watch this all evening, Ron knew he had to speak. It was imperative that he be the one to initiate conversation, because he was the one who was wrong, and if he waited for her to speak, it would appear as though he didn't care enough to talk about it. He'd learned that lesson years ago after a particularly nasty row, fueled by the fact that he thought he'd let her cool down before he spoke to her. That had been the wrong decision. Ron cleared his throat.

"Er…so…she was the one who poisoned Harry's soup." Hermione stopped combing her hair immediately. She glanced down at him, but then quickly looked back at the mirror. From his vantage point, Ron could only see the profile of her left side, but even with that limited view, he could tell that she was fit to kill. Hermione took several calming breaths and then continued to comb her hair.

"Why?" she whispered, and Ron almost missed the weighty question, she'd spoken so softly. Why indeed? He only had some of the answers because Sophie Teagarden only had some of the answers. Ron forced his brain to do a rewind and play back everything she had told him. He knew if anyone would be able to pick up something from scraps of information, it would be Hermione.

"She was made to do it," he paused. "Not by an Unforgivable or anything. It appears the dark-haired woman is Isabella…Lestrange." The comb fell from Hermione's hand mid-stroke and she froze, arm bent at a ninety degree angle and face in a horrified expression. Ron quickly recited all the information he'd gathered from Teagarden, keeping sure to leave out the fact that the woman wanted him to apologize to Hermione for what she had done. He was certain Hermione couldn't give a rat's arse about an apology.

Sophie had told Ron, sobbingly, that impersonating Hermione was never part of the original plan. She'd longed for Ron after only meeting him once that day in Hermione's office. It was something about the way he looked at Hermione, the way he wore his love for her on his sleeve for the entire world to see, that was both crushing and beautiful, she had told him. No one had ever looked at her that way, and for the briefest of moments, while inside Hermione's skin, Sophie had received that look and that love from Ron. She told him that she would carry it with her forever, even if it was never meant for her. Being speechless and utterly terrified by the intense confession, Ron had simply and silently escorted her to the holding cell.

Hermione was now griping the sink and her eyes were squinted as if she was trying to see something that was really tiny. However, Ron knew she was thinking, weaving and unweaving facts, assembling pieces of the massive puzzle in her mind and seeing which ones were still missing.

"Why would Bellatrix's daughter have a grudge against Harry?" she asked, and it was more to herself than to Ron. "Harry didn't kill Bellatrix. 'Course, this doesn't seem to be just about revenge, if it was, she would have merely killed him. No, this is about more than that. She wants something from Harry, but what?" Hermione tapped her nails on the sink in a distracted way. Ron simply sat back and watched her mind work.

"What are her motives? Why can't I figure this out?" Hermione mumbled. "Did she have any input on that?" she asked without looking at Ron.

He shook his head and said, "Sophie said Lestrange never told her why she wanted to poison Harry. Never revealed her entire plan." Ron stated and caught Hermione's eye in the mirror. Her lips were in a tight line as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Did Sophie say why she was in my office under Polyjuice?" Hermione spat, and Ron knew he'd made a critical mistake using her first name in such a familiar way.

He swallowed. "No, she…she simply said they were looking for any information they could find to help locate Harry and stop us," he finished quietly.

"So, shagging you was what? A perk?" Hermione said in a quiet, albeit deadly tone. Ron was silent for a long moment, longer than he probably should have been, but he had no clue what to say to that. His first instinct was to point out that he hadn't actually shagged the woman, but he knew Hermione was aware of that, so there was no need to mention it. He took a deep breath and willed himself to speak.

"Please, don't do this," he whispered.

"Don't do what?" Hermione asked sharply, as she turned to face him. Ron could feel her eyes on him, but his neck seemed incapable of lifting his head so he stared at the center of the white towel wrapped around her.

"Don't do what, Ron? Don't be angry? Don't be hurt? Don't what? Please tell me what I shouldn't be feeling right now!" Ron finally looked up at her, but dropped his eyes just as quickly because the pain he was met with was enough to choke him.

"You know I thought it was you…you know I would never…I only just realized right before you walked in."

"I know that, Ron!" she bit out, and Ron thought for sure that she was not going to say that so he was rendered speechless for a moment.

"So…so then be…rational," he said, meeting her eyes, and knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing. Hermione was fairly shaking with emotion right now, and Ron felt a bit trapped in the cozy bathroom as she towered over him in his sitting position.

"RATIONAL! I am rational, Ronald! I'm quite rational and quite logical…sometimes to a fault!" she breathed raggedly. "And honestly, at times, I think you and Harry sell me short because of it. The moment I have a reaction that's not based on sound scientific theory, you two call me emotional or mental!" She stepped closer to him, causing Ron to sit back a bit.

"Yes, rationally I know that you thought you were with me! I'm not stupid! But the part of me that is a woman, a wife and your lover does not like to walk into my office and see my husband's COCK half way down another woman's throat!" she screamed, and her entire body was trembling now. Ron cringed. He was not used to Hermione using such language, but he was nowhere near stupid enough to say anything about it. No, Ron was going to shut his mouth and let her get this out.

"You know, for a second…I had no idea she was Polyjuiced. I simply saw the back of her head and thought…my…my husband is…" Hermione covered her face. Ron stood immediately, and reached out for her. His hands were only on her shoulders but for a fraction of a second before she shrugged him off. He sat again quickly, and Hermione backed away from him until she was against the wall. Her shoulders shook as she quietly sobbed, and Ron pressed down the lump in his throat.

"Please," he whispered, longing to comfort her, promise her that it would never happen again, and do something to stop her pain. She gave a great sniff, and wiped her face.

"You know what the worst part is?" Hermione began again in a ghost of a voice. It was not a question she wanted Ron to answer, and he wouldn't have been able to anyway. "I've never worried about being tricked by Polyjuice, you know?" she sniffed again. "I was foolish enough to think that no one could ever fool us, you see," she had a far off look in her eyes now, and Ron was beginning to worry.

"I guess it was childish, a girl's romanticized fantasy at best, but I always believed that you would know me…" her chin trembled, "…know the moment you looked into the eyes of an impostor that it was not me. And I, for that matter, would know you if the reverse ever happened. But now…now I don't even trust myself and it scares me to death," she ended in a whisper.

Ron's eyes stung with hot tears as he watched his wife and his marriage deteriorate right before his eyes. He slid off the end of the toilet seat and fell to his knees before Hermione. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pressed his face into her towel clad belly.

"I'm sorry!" Ron let out a muffled scream. "I didn't mean it!" he gave a great shuddering breath. "Please! Let me fix this!"

Hermione's arms hung limply at her sides. Never before had he ever hugged her like this without her arms instantly encircling him, and her fingers running through his hair. Ron wanted her to do this so desperately that he grabbed her left arm and plunked it down on his head. She merely let it fall again. The groan that came from him nearly rattled his toes. He was rapidly losing his grip on this world, and that made him hold onto her tighter.

"Do…do you want me to…leave?" God! He hadn't meant to ask that question! It had been running around in his head from the moment he stepped into the bathroom, but he had vowed never to utter it, for the answer could surely kill him. It was out now, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the answer Hermione was about to give.

"This…"she sniffed loudly, "…this is terribly unfair to you…"she choked. "I know it is…but…but I can't help the way I feel," a sob got caught in her throat. "I just…just need…time, I suppose. You can't fix it." Ron didn't quite know what to make of that. Should he leave or should he stay?

"Do you…should I…" he buried his face in the towel again, not able to bring himself to repeat the question. Hermione reached behind her and pulled his arms off her hips. Ron didn't resist, he was going to give her whatever she wanted, even if it meant walking out of her life forever.

"Hermione?" he whimpered, as his eyes swam with unshed tears.

"I want you…" she paused, as did Ron's heart. "…to…shower thoroughly before coming to bed," her eyes caught his fleetingly, then she grabbed her dressing gown off of the hook on the wall and walked out, closing the door behind her. For what seemed like a small eternity, but was nothing more than five minutes or so, Ron stayed in that same position on his knees, staring at the closed bathroom door.

When the cold tiles began to dig into him painfully, Ron finally stood. It was as if he was having an out of body experience. Floating above himself, he watched as he quickly disrobed. The clothing now feeling like a dirty reminder of what had happened, he couldn't get them off fast enough.

Standing under the hottest spray he could stand, Ron nearly seared his flesh from his bones, but it was worth it. Angrily, violently, he washed himself, until he was red. Then without warning, he turned and drove his fist into the shower wall. Before he even felt the mind-numbing pain, he knew his hand and possibly his wrist were broken by the sound of the sickening crunch it made.

"FUCK!" he screamed out, as he dropped to his knees, shaking with hysterical pain. Ron tenderly held his rapidly swelling hand and stepped out of the shower. His good hand was shaking so terribly that he was hardly able to aim his wand. Biting down, he mumbled a spell and held his breath as the bones in his hand and wrist mended. Still tight from his ever swelling knuckles, the skin on his hand was now turning purple, but Ron didn't care about that. It was functional; he could live with the pain.

After he'd sat on the toilet lid for several long minutes, letting his breathing calm, Ron reached into the shower and shut off the water. He stood before the sink, preparing to brush his teeth and any traces of that woman from his mouth. On his third go round of loading his brush and scrubbing his teeth, Ron looked at himself in the mirror.

Merlin, who was he if he wasn't with Hermione? For as long as he could remember, she was a part of him. Could he even live without her? No, he couldn't, not a full life anyway. Without her, he'd be forced into a half life, some sort of shadow of himself, before finally drifting off into nothingness, perhaps something akin to the after effects of a Dementor's Kiss, and then one day, he'd simply cease to exist altogether. Hell, his eyes already looked empty, he thought, as he stared at his reflection.

"I can fix this," Ron said to himself, but it sounded too much like a question to be convincing, even to his own ears. He breathed in deeply. "I can fix this!" he gnashed out, then dipped his head into the sink and rinsed his mouth several times.

As Ron stepped into the room, he could see Hermione curled stiffly on her side of the bed with her back to him. She was lying on top of the covers, and her white satin dressing gown was still on, though the towel was carelessly tossed on the foot of the bed. He could tell she was not asleep, her body was too tight and her breathing was too uneven.

The bathroom was on Ron's side of the room, so he merely walked over and perched on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his pyjama bottoms and slipped them on, then stiffly reclined onto his pillow. With his arms at his sides, Ron looked up at the ceiling, feeling as if the chasm between them was growing with every breath he took.

"I knew…" Ron began, but choked on a sob. Merlin! He was turning into a bloody girl with all the crying. He rolled his eyes at himself, which only made a fat tear slip out and roll back into his ear. "…I always knew…I'd be…the one to…ruin us," he swallowed hard, and heard Hermione expel a breath. As he glanced at the back of her, he saw her shoulders trembling under the strain of trying to suppress her tears. Ron's were flowing silently unchecked now, as he fought hard to stave off a full-bellied wail.

Just as he was about to speak again, he felt Hermione shift and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination when he felt her delicate fingers curl around his hand. She had reached behind her and blindly found his hand. That was all he needed. The distance between them was closed instantly as Ron molded his body to the back of hers. She broke then. Sobs racked her chest, painful, loudly, gut wrenchingly, and Ron merely held on. He wept silently with his face buried in her neck. Suddenly Ron began speaking, almost against his will and certainly without any forethought to what he was going to say.

"Th—they are tr—trying to come between us…" he panted. "We can't let them. They've already done it to Harry and Ginny! We can't let them have us too!" he nearly strangled trying to keep from screaming. Hermione was doing it for him, however. With every word he spoke, she seemed to cry harder. Ron threw his leg over hers and pulled her deeper into him. If he could, he'd fuse them together. Surely, then he'd feel close enough. Because now, it was not enough!

"I know you…you don't want to hear it again…but I'm SO sorry!" he sobbed loudly into her neck. "It will never happen again!" his breath hitched in his chests and he continued to speak over Hermione's drowning tears.

"Somewhere along the way, you weaved yourself into my soul, Hermione! I don't know exactly when it happened, but you are in me, forever! I KNOW YOU!" Ron growled, and Hermione's hands clamped over her face, and if possible she cried harder.

Ron wanted to tell her, scream to her just how he knew it was not her that he was with, but he knew Hermione could live the rest of her life never knowing exactly how he knew. Sophie Teagarden was an imposter, he realized later, because her mouth tasted different, her juices were not the same as his delicious wife's, and because she had no idea how to suck his cock! No, he would never say those things to Hermione, and possibly give her a far more vivid picture than what she already had.

"I can't explain it Hermione, but trust me when I tell you, I realized it wasn't you a moment before you walked in. I…I can only blame…extreme fatigue…stress and…and my all consuming need to please you," he whimpered, and held onto her trembling body. Hermione had yet to settle. She looked as if she were struggling to speak or perhaps breathe, Ron couldn't tell which.

"You're wrong, Hermione! There aren't two people on this planet that know each other better than we do! You would know an imposter because, you know me!" he growled. In one movement, Ron had rolled Hermione onto her back and he was now on top of her. He wrenched her hands away from her face, and their eyes locked.

"I know you!" he hissed through his own sob, then his mouth was on hers. It was impossible to kiss her though, because she was crying so violently. Ron's mouth slipped down her chin, and he tasted the salt of her tears. He let them roll around his tongue and encode themselves into his memory forever. His hands held hers firmly above her head, and he pressed his palms to hers feeling the soft pads. Then he weaved his fingers between hers and ran them over her bony knuckles, memorizing the delicate nature of her hands.

The crux of her neck was covered in tears as well and Ron stored them to memory too before he swallowed them down. He let her hands loose and trailed his fingers down the underside of her wrist, stopping at her pulse points, which were thumping wildly. Further down to the inside of her elbows, he took note of the baby softness of the flesh there. Soon his hands had worked their way down her sides and he tugged at the belt of her satin dressing gown. It came undone with hardly any effort, and now she lay bare before him. Dressing gown wide open, and her naked body was exposed to his burning gaze.

Hermione trembled terribly as her weeping continued. Ron rested his head over her left breast and listened to her heart thump. His eyes were desperate as he looked up at her, then he brought her hand up and placed it over his heart.

"I know you," he whispered. Again, Hermione looked as though she wanted to speak, but nothing could cut though the horrendous sobs pouring from her now. Ron's mouth was on her, reverently blazing a trail of memories to be locked in the steel trap he'd placed in his mind. His tongue encircled her breasts tasting, loving, memorizing. He ran his hot mouth down the dip in her belly, around her navel and lower to her pelvic bone.

As his mouth brushed over her neat curls, Hermione's body thrashed about as her sobs were broken up by her panting. Ron slowly ran his hands along her legs, feeling his way over the smooth skin, down to her feet. All the while, he kissed around her center and mumbled, "I know you."

He pushed her legs wide open as his mouth made first contact with her wet folds. At first glance, anyone who may have walked in on this scene would have surely thought that Ron was hurting her, possibly forcing himself on her. For Hermione was still sobbing steadily and loudly. Upon closer inspection however, they would've seen that Hermione was gripping Ron's hair tightly, ensuring that his head stayed right where it was. No, she was not being hurt in the least and now, Ron could hardly tell the difference between her sobs and moans of ecstasy.

His entire mouth covered her center fully as he drank down her essence. He knew this taste, knew everything about it. Hermione's juices tasted practically of nothing at all, with just a hint of sweetness. Her scent always reminded him of creamy things. Milk, butter…chocolate, but if someone were to ask him what she smelled like, he would never say any of those things, because she smelled of none them. Her scent merely triggered the memory of them, perhaps because milk, butter and chocolate always made him feel good. He could never be in a foul mood while eating any of them. They sparked feelings of warmth, of comfort, of home. And that's when he realized, Hermione smelled of…home.

Even as his tongue swirled, and he sucked earnestly, Ron knew her taste and scent was imprinted on his soul like a ghostly possession. Never would he forget it; he hadn't forgotten it to begin with. Hermione was quaking against him now, shuttering as she moaned loudly and longingly until she arched off the bed with her cries finally stifled in her throat. She was frozen like that for a few long seconds, and then her body collapsed to the bed has if she no longer held any bones.

Her chest heaved under her gasps, as Ron kissed his way up her body, worshipfully. His head came to rest in the center of her chest, nestled between her heavenly bosoms. As she calmed her breathing, Hermione encircled Ron in her arms, running her fingers through his fiery locks. Settling himself to her rhythmic heartbeat, Ron gave a sigh that carried with it, a final whisper of, "I know you."

00000

Ginny dove for her wand, but just as her hand reached it, it flew from her grasp and into the fire, which roared to life again.

"GINNY, RUN!" Harry hollered from his frozen position a few feet away from her. She stood quickly, but a second later, she too was rooted to the spot, only able to move her eyes and mouth. The couple watched in horror as a large section by the door began to shimmer with life and before their eyes a cloaked figure materialized.

A pale bony hand rose and removed the heavy hood obstructing the intruder's face. Her piercing blue eyes were the first things to come into view, and Ginny actually gasped upon seeing them. There was a maddened gleam to them and it sent a fear-filled shiver down Ginny's spine. The room was silent as the woman ran her hand over her head as if she was merely fixing her appearance after arriving for tea. Ginny knew instantly that the hand was the same one that she had felt on her arm earlier that evening.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Ginny shouted, but the woman ignored her as she slowly approached Harry.

"Hello, Harry," she whispered seductively, then ran her hand over his bare chest appraisingly.

"Get your filthy hands off of him!" Ginny screamed furiously. Again, the woman ignored her.

"Who are you?" Harry asked calmly.

The woman smiled. "Don't you recognize me, Harry? I should look familiar to you."

"You're the woman from the coffee cart," he said, with only a slight hint of a question at the end. Ginny, however, thought she looked familiar too and wondered if she'd seen her at the Atrium canteen as well.

"Why yes, I am, but I think you may know me from somewhere else." Harry squinted at her. Ginny knew the woman must be a big blur, for Harry's glasses were still resting on the hearth.

"I've been told," the woman continued, "that I look a lot like my mother." Her smile sent chills up Ginny's spine. "Perhaps you remember her…Bellatrix." The cabin was eerily silent for a moment as both Harry and Ginny gaped at the stranger.

"Bel—Bellatrix didn't have a daughter," Harry stammered.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?" she screamed, and Ginny was sure this woman was not stable. "My name is Isabella, Harry. They call me Bella too," she stepped forward with her hand extended as though they were meeting under civilized circumstances.

"Oh, dear, I suppose you can't shake my hand can you?" she commented, gesturing toward Harry's frozen state. All the same, she grasped his stiff thumb and gave it a little shake, as it was locked in an upright position. Ginny's eyes widened as the realization that this woman was truly insane fully sunk in. Just as Ginny's heart began to thump, she saw Harry's hand twitch and they locked eyes. In that brief second, Ginny knew Harry was fighting the spell. They needed to stall.

"What do you want?" Ginny asked, and was ignored again completely. It was almost as if the woman couldn't even hear Ginny. She gave no indication that Ginny's voice was even registering sound.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, and Isabella smiled.

"I want what everyone wants, power, respect…love," she gave her shoulders a casual shrug.

"I don't understand what I have to do with this."

"Well," she laughed, "at first, I wanted revenge for what you did to my mother." Harry stared at her confusedly, as did Ginny.

"I didn't do anything to your mother, as I remember it, she got away during the final battle, and has been a fugitive ever since."

"She is NOT a fugitive! She is a feeble old woman, who is a shell of herself because of you! She has no memory! No coherent thoughts! NOTHING! And it's all your fault!" Isabella shouted, stepping up to Harry's face.

Harry gaped at the screaming woman with wide eyes and Ginny knew he was playing back the final battle in his head. She vividly remembered the epic event, chasing after Harry, who was chasing after Bellatrix. He threw every curse he could think of at the woman, and she just kept running.

Some of the curses were so juvenile in their nature, Ginny reasoned, but enough of them piled on top of each other could do a lot of damage. Harry had also hit her with some pretty powerful ones as well. There was no telling what the consequences of such a combination.

Unfortunately, the Death Eaters showed up that night with strong shields around them. Even though Bellatrix had lost her wand, the shield still protected her a bit, otherwise, Ginny was sure Harry would have killed her. She had never before seen such anguish on his face as what he wore the night he'd chased down the woman who had taken Sirius away from him. Ginny had to physically restrain Harry to keep him from stepping off the grounds and Apparating after her. It was only the fact that Harry didn't know where Ron and Hermione were at the moment that kept him grounded, otherwise, he would have hunted her down for sure. Even now, almost seven years later, Ginny was certain that Harry still looked for her occasionally.

"She almost made it back to me," Isabella continued, sadly. "We found her in the forest near my house…she was coming back to me," she whispered, with a mad pitch to her voice.

"It was days, we'd gathered, that she had been in that forest. Cold, hungry, suffering from spell damage and splinched!" Isabella shouted angrily, and Ginny was astounded by the mood swings this woman was going through. "We never did find her leg and those seven fingers," Isabella finished, mournfully.

Merlin! If she could, Ginny would have turned her back and had a good laugh at the mental picture of a one-legged, three fingered Bellatrix Lestrange. That action would have certainly gotten her hexed by the woman; fortunately, the fact that she was completely terrified at the moment, outweighed her desire to chuckle. Isabella eyes misted over as she continued to recount her mother's downfall.

"All she would say was, "Harry Potter"…for two weeks straight!" she breathed. "I knew then that you were the one responsible for my mother's state and I had to do anything and everything in my power to fix it! As the sole heir to the Lestrange legacy, it is my duty!" she straightened her back proudly.

"What about your father?" Harry asked, but Ginny knew he was only trying to stall, because he knew full well that Rodolphus Lestrange was killed in the final battle.

"DEAD!" Isabella snapped, wildly.

"Why is it, we've never heard of you, then?" Harry followed up, further pulling the unstable woman into more conversation. She fixed him with a rather defensive glare.

"I was not raised here!" she spat. "My parents knew that the Lestrange name carried with it certain…prejudice. So they left me with relatives in Russia while they tried to make a better world for me." She smoothed her robes in an aristocratic movement. Only then did Ginny pick up a hint of a Russian accent, apparently the woman could turn it on and off at will.

"You mean they abandoned you while they chased after a diabolical maniac!" Harry snorted.

"That is not true!" she shouted, looking even more unhinged than before.

"It is true!" Harry yelled in return, and Ginny could see the anger building in him. She knew her husband, and could see that he thought this whole situation was utterly ridiculous.

"Your parents thought it was more important to follow Voldemort than it was to take care of their own child! So much so, no one even knew you existed!" he breathed.

"That is NOT true! They were arrested because they were trying to stand up for their beliefs!" she spat.

"That's bullshit! When Voldemort disappeared, your parents could have gone back to you, but they didn't, they thought it better to torture the Longbottoms! And when they were arrested, your mother had every opportunity to recant and possibly go back to you, but she remained steadfast in her support of Voldemort, even as the Dementors were carting her mental arse away!"

"YOU LIAR!" Isabella stepped forward, and slapped Harry hard across the face. He was shaking with fury now, and Ginny saw his hand twitch again, causing hope to flow through her veins. She hoped his anger would fuel his power, fuel it enough to break the spell completely.

"My parents loved me!" she shouted, and flecks of spit sprayed from her mouth.

"Your parents loved Voldemort! Nothing more, nothing less…they did not love you!"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, closing her eyes tight, and clamping her hands over her ears. "They loved me!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Harry goaded her evilly, then cast a nervous glance over at Ginny. Isabella didn't seem to know what to make of his attitude, but it was clear she was furious.

"So again, I have to ask, what do you want with me?" Harry spat, and the pale woman took a few calming breaths, then reached in her pocket and pulled out a red phial.

"I've thought it through," she smiled excitedly. "It'll be so brilliant…you're going to be the next Dark Lord!" Silence gripped the room as Isabella's words rang through the air.

"Wha—what?" Harry stammered.

"Yes, I've already planned it all out!" she said with wild eyes. "I've created you a new Dark Mark, and a new deadly curse, and I've even gotten you followers, well one so far, but we will gain an army in no time!" She smiled widely.

"She should have been here by now." Isabella stamped her foot. "That's what took me so long to come in, I was waiting for her…wanted to make a grand entrance of sorts...besides, the show was not too bad, but I'm a much better lay than that blood-traitor whore you married." She licked her lips. Ginny gritted her teeth, if only she could move, she'd…well, she'd do something and it would be painful! Isabella looked around distractedly, as though simply waiting on a tardy dinner guest.

"I suppose my Sophie is probably shagging your red-headed mate right now," she chuckled in a snotty sort of way, as if she had just told a polite joke.

"You're lying!" Harry shouted, angrily. "The only woman Ron will even go near is Hermione. He'd never—"

"Who says he doesn't think he is with his wife right now?" she asked, with an evil gleam in her eyes. "That bushy-haired twit he married sheds like cat. Sophie got enough hairs off her jumper to make a wig!" Isabella gave a loud cackle.

"No!" Ginny gasped, thinking of the horror of Ron being with a Polyjuiced version of Hermione. She caught Harry's eye again as a tear dropped to her cheek. Harry swallowed and appeared to be thinking of more ways to stall as Ginny saw his hand fully close into a fist. Suddenly, she felt her own hand twitch. We've got to get out of this! She screamed in her head.

"Now," Isabella took a step toward Harry with the phial. He looked panicked, and seemed to be searching for some way to stall her.

"Did you kill Caroline?" he shouted.

"Who?" she paused, confusedly. "Oh, you mean the lowly maid girl? Yes, I did," Isabelle answered happily. "But that was your fault Potter, and that stupid slag of a wife of yours," she bit out, and shot Ginny the smallest of glances, but it was the first time she had even appeared to see Ginny.

"I would have never known where you were had it not been for that tart you married and your bushy haired misfit of a friend," she chuckled. "See, I was cloaked outside of your house the night you attacked your wife, of course I had to watch. It was fascinating!" she smiled wide, showing practically all of her teeth, and it was the creepiest thing Ginny had ever seen

"But you were running too fast for me to grab on and Apparate with you. I thought you'd be lost to me for good, but the next day, I heard those two ninnies talking as they left the house, and the ugly one was worried about what her husband had done to you so they needed to get to Doncaster fast!" she laughed loudly.

"Well, I was supposed to kill that bitch you married, you see." Ginny clenched her teeth against the insult, clearly this woman hated her. "They all made me so angry, hovering over you as they were, and I couldn't get to you to give you another dose. So, I thought if I made you think you'd killed your wife, then you'd run away and I could get you alone. But that freakishly tall brother of hers wouldn't let her out of his sight. I saw my opportunity when the maid showed, so I took it," she shrugged casually.

"Then I went outside and cast the Dark Mark, to build up the fear, you know." She waved her hand idly in the air. "I hid in the shadows across the street and watched all the silly people scurry about, terrified that Voldemort was back, it was quite amusing."

Harry looked as though he was having a hard time comprehending the whole thing. Ginny, however, knew that this woman had been playing with them for weeks now and wondered just how far she was willing to go. They needed to do something fast!

"Wha—what about Alphard Black and his family?" Harry stammered, slowly. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"That useless dolt! I found him purely by accident, since we all thought he was dead, the bloody coward. I was ever so excited that I'd found a family member who seemed to be knowledgeable of the ways in which my mother was raised. I've never been able to get much information on it. Not the truth anyway, and clearly she is in no state to tell me," she stopped and took an angry breath. "That idiot wanted no part of my plan, said I was insane! Can you believe that?" She looked at Harry as if she expected him to say, no…not you!

She was rambling now, and Ginny was happy that Harry was smart enough to ask her questions that drew long detailed answers. Ginny had long since given up on getting her questions answered, as the mental woman seemed intent on ignoring her.

"Well, when his filthy Muggle wife and disgusting half-blood daughter came home, he tried to shoo me out! Honestly! As if he should be ashamed of me! Me a pureblood! So I tried out my new spell on them, and it worked fantastically! Then I tried the Dark Mark, it took me some time to get it right, you know. Make it big enough and just the right shade of red," she nodded, as if remembering the difficulty of the task.

"You know," she stepped forward, and ran her hand over Harry's forearm. "That's the first time I saw you," she smiled. "You and the other Aurors were simply standing in front of the house, staring up at the Dark Mark…your mark. You were so handsome, I knew then that I'd made the right decision," she nodded again.

"Where were you?" Harry asked hoarsely, and his face held an expression of complete bewilderment. Ginny could see that so many things were coming together in his head, that it was probably giving him a migraine.

"Oh, I was in the thick of trees beside the house, with a shimmer on. I created that too," she said proudly. "You can blend into any substance around you, and it renders you totally silent. It's sort of an upgrade to the standard disillusionment charm. Oh don't worry, I've made it with a warming charm as well, so I was perfectly cozy out there." She gave a charming smile.

Ginny was getting more and more terrified with every word out of Isabella's mouth, for this woman was not only insane, but she was smart. To create complex spells as she had, she may even give Hermione a run for her money. Ginny swallowed thickly; well at least Hermione has sanity on her side.

"Why me?" Harry asked, and looked truly exasperated by the shocking woman.

"Well isn't it obvious, you are the most powerful wizard alive! You've defeated the most powerful wizard of all time, so you must take his place!"

"I had help! Loads of it!" Harry shouted, and Ginny knew it was a sore spot for him, being deemed the savior of the world when he had more help than he'd ever thought possible.

Isabella shook her head dismissively. "Only you will be able to gather the followers that the Dark Lord did. Everyone already knows who you are, and half of the population is already afraid of you, evil as well as good!" she said, incredulously.

Harry bit is lip and it appeared to Ginny that he was truly at a loss of what to do or say to that. Everything Isabella had said was true. Harry would make an excellent Dark Lord. People revered him, and were certainly willing to follow him to their deaths, but people also feared him, for he had too many things in common with Voldemort.

If the amount of followers he had to help him fight the good fight was any indication, Ginny was almost physically ill with the thought of how many people would follow him should he turn to malevolence. If there was one thing about people who pledged their allegiance to evil …they will follow the power no matter who was wielding it.

"You see?" Isabella said, and took a step closer. "You understand what I want? I want you to be my Lord, my lover…my husband! That's what the Dark Lord was missing, someone to care for him…someone to love him," she smoothed a gentle finger down Harry's jaw, causing Ginny to grit her teeth with the need to beat this woman to death with her bare hands.

"I want to do that for you! I want to be by your side when you raise a new power in this boring world and maybe…" she looked down sadly, "…maybe, my mother will come back to herself," Isabella ended in a whisper.

Ginny was shaking with fury. "The way I see it, your mother got her comeuppance for what she did to Neville's parents! She deserves every bit of suffering she's got, and then some!" she shouted, and that's what finally got Isabella to acknowledge the red-head's presence. She whirled around and stalked over to Ginny, punching the smaller woman in the face, sending her stiff body toppling hard to the floor.

"STOP! LEAVE HER ALONE!" Harry screamed, with gripping fear in his voice. Ginny moaned as her body crashed hard against the wooden boards.

"Don't you ever speak of my mother! You aren't good enough to even whisper her name!" Isabella growled over Ginny.

"You're just as pathetic as Bellatrix," Ginny glared up at her angrily. "And just as insane I might add! Get your own bloody husband, because the only way you'll get mine is over my dead body!" she snarled, speaking out of anger rather than logic. Ginny realized her mistake when she saw the delighted sparkle in Isabella's crazy blue eyes.

"That, my dear, has always been the plan," she purred, then marched back over to Harry.

"Please, don't hurt her," he pleaded. "I'll…I'll do anything" Ginny watched in horror as the woman pressed her large bosom against Harry, and kissed him on the mouth. He closed his lips tightly.

"Anything?" Isabella questioned. "Perhaps we should shag, right here in front of her," she glanced over at Ginny in a teasing way as she ran her tongue down Harry's bare chest.

"Impossible," he stated flatly, though he was breathing hard.

"Is that so?" she licked her way back up his chest, and sucked his nipple into her mouth. Ginny closed her eyes.

"It is impossible for me to get hard for any woman who is not my wife." Ginny's eyes flew open at Harry's smug, but adamant statement.

"Is that right?" Isabella shouted angrily, and made to shove her hand down the front of Harry's jeans in an obvious attempt to grab his cock. She wasn't counting on Harry grabbing her wrist in his strong hand. Isabella screamed as Ginny looked on in panicked excitement.

The pale woman wrenched her arm away from Harry forcefully, and he almost toppled forward since everywhere else on him was still quite frozen. With a fumbling hand, she flicked her wand and Harry's head tilted back.

"You want to make me do this the hard way!" she growled, as she stepped forward, uncorked the red bottle, and pouring the entire contents into Harry's mouth.

"NO!" Ginny screamed. Isabella flicked her wand again, and Harry's head tipped forward so they were now face to face once again.

"How do you—" Before Isabella could finish that question, she was covered in the potion, as Harry had just spat it in her face. Ginny's heart thumped rapidly, and she wanted to shout with joy that Harry hadn't swallowed the poison.

Isabella calmly wiped her face, and the movement made her appear even more deranged. To Ginny's utter terror, the insane woman reached into her pocket and pulled out another potion. The fear in Harry's eyes was prevalent now, as they both knew that, although Isabella Lestrange was clearly crazy, she was not stupid. She would not fall for that trick again.

As Harry's head flipped back again, Ginny prayed that someone would come in, something would happen to stop this woman from what she was trying to do. But as she watched Harry's mouth fill with the potion again and his jaws snap shut under the will of Isabella, Ginny knew there was nothing to be done.

Harry fought it as long as he could. His head must have been forced back for a small eternity before Isabella grabbed his nose and pinched. Harry was red and shaking violently as he fought against his natural instinct to swallow. Unfortunately, the body will do what it must and with a painful groan, Ginny knew it was over, Harry had swallowed the potion.

Isabella removed the spell that was holding his head back and locking his jaw. Ginny watched with tear-blurred vision while Harry began to pant rapidly as the poison took hold of him. The smile on Isabella's face told Ginny all she needed to know. The potion was working just as she'd wanted it. With a casual wave of her wand, Harry was free to move now, and he clenched his fists at his sides.

Ginny could almost see the blood coursing through his body as he shook and panted violently. Isabella's wand was now trained on Ginny and the red-head stared fiercely at the woman who was ultimately going to bring about her demise. She would not give her the pleasure of cry or begging. Never! However, Ginny couldn't control the surprise that came over her face when she found that she could now move. Quickly she scrambled to her feet, wondering what this insane woman was doing.

Ginny soon found out, unfortunately, as Isabella turned to Harry and shouted, "KILL HER!"

Tears coursed down Ginny's face freely, and she was not above begging now, as she watched her husband turn and glare at her. His beautiful green eyes, now replaced with blood red ones, Harry looked utterly terrifying as he took a menacing step toward her.

"Please, Harry, you have to fight it!" Ginny screamed, as she prayed that it was near ten o'clock and Ron was reading her letter at this very moment.

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