Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and especially to andpleasedontcry, Isabeaux3, BRITISH VAMPIRE and xxSorenxx for reviewing - it's been a stressful week, so I couldn't respond to y'all, but I very much appreciated your comments!

Enjoy the new chapter!


Sympathy for the Devil


I remember, so clearly, the way I paced up and down that night, waiting for you to come home (Did you call this your home? Do you actually know what is to have a home? Because actually, it was Theodore Nott's home, and if anything, you were an honoured guest.), waiting for news, waiting perhaps, for someone from the Ministry or Potter's friends to rush in and attempt to rescue me.

I almost wanted them to.
Bellatrix was eyeing me suspiciously, every single step that I took, for about two hours - perhaps also because my hand was still bleeding. One of my fingers had splintered when she had taken me along for apparition and I refused to let her, or anyone else in this house, touch me.

Eventually, she sent me to a back-room, or rather she dragged me there - did this woman ever hear of cutting her fingernails? Sweet Merlin, she is a disgrace. It was an office-like room, but it at least had a couch in it that I could settle down on.
That, of course, did not provide much comfort when I heard the lock click. Ironic, is it not, that wizards can come up with so many ways to lock things and break curses, but are defeated by a key in a hole.

First, I was moving about the room, pacing much like I had before, but careful not to touch anything - whoever this belonged to, I did not want to rummage through it.
I had to settle in the end. The couch was one of those ancient pieces that look elegant but are absolutely uncomfortable. As I laid on it, I wondered what Theo Nott would do, now that his mother was dead and his father.. well, at the very least, he had not returned to his own house that night. I might have hurt the man, myself.

Things had moved so fast in the past few hours, I had never stopped to think about what I was doing- stupefied my own people in Umbridge's classroom, however deserved - attacked their fathers, with the certain attempt to hurt, to disable, hell, I would have killed them if that was what it took, I had promised Luna so much; and I had meant it.

Merlin, they would hate me from now on... so much for being a great leader. My stomach twisted at the thought of Blaise and Tracey - would they, at least, understand?

I slept fitfully, drifting in and out of consciousness more than actually finding rest. You, you were on my mind, until, in one particularly abhorrent fit, it was actually Bellatrix, her mad, murderous laughter echoing through my mind.

I woke because you were moving about the room. I had always figured you would dress more casually in private, but there you were, still in long, flowing, black robes.
I sat up slowly, brazing my arms against the couch as you stood by the window, your ghostly pale fingers resting lightly on the sill.

"You destroyed my prophecy," you said airily, almost as if it did not matter. We both knew it mattered very much.

"I was being attacked," I said. "I had to keep me and my friends safe."

You cocked your head to the side, though you did not look at me. I felt suddenly queasy. Your minions' behaviour had not been lost on me - I suddenly wondered if you were going to torture me in punishment. Or worse.

"It was very important to me," you added, still in that conversational tone that implied none of this truly mattered.

"So is my life to me," I shot back and thought that it should be important to you, too. I also thought that a father and daughter should have a very different first conversation. Do you not agree? I like to think that you imagined this differently, too, but I have to say: the ball was in your court, if you forgive me my Muggle expressions.

You had turned slightly, so that I could see your profile, and perhaps so you could gauge my reaction.
"And Harry Potter's?" you demanded.

You would not have like the truth. Yes, Harry's life was important to me, because we had been there together and I did not let any of my own people get murdered, not even by my own father.
I figured, though, that telling you this would not be the best idea. You had been calm so far, but I was sure you were actually livid. So I decided that I needed to give the conversation a bit of a turn.

"Did you kill him?" I asked.

Your lip curled. "Unfortunately not. Instead, I lost most of my Death Eaters to Azkaban."

My stomach dropped slightly. How would I explain this to Draco or Vince or Theo that their fathers had now been locked away in this godforsaken place and I had not only not helped them, but actively sent them on their way?
"They're an incompetent lot, anyway," I said instead.

You approached me, facing me properly for the first time. The flick of your wand made me cringe, but nothing bad happened. In fact, the skin on my hand knit back together, the lost flesh replaced as if it had never been different. I regarded the healed hand in awe, blood still crusted around the former wand.

"You worry about your friends."

It took me a moment, I'm sure you could see the stupefied look on my face, but then I realized where the sudden turn of conversation had come from.

"I would have you stay out of my head."
To his day, I do not know how I had been so bold. It would have probably been smarter to be a little more compliant, but having you rummaging through my head - I could not stand it.

"Maybe you should guard it better, then," you said, taking a few steps towards me. "I hoped for better."

"All things considered," I said. "I don't think I'm doing that bad."

You never said that you did not want to abandon me. You never said that you wanted to return, or thought about me - or, Merlin forbid, that you had missed me.
In that moment, it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue. Of course, I might have imagined it, and even if you had said it, I would not have believed it.

"I'll have Bellatrix teach you," you said finally.

"No," I said. "I will not have that fool of a woman attempt to teach me anything."

You know, one of the things that I admired about you - not that I liked it, mind you, I absolutely hated it when you did it to me - is that you were able to keep your expression completely blank. Anger or pleasure? Hatred or joy? It was impossible to tell. I tried it myself, many many times, but I do not think that I ever managed it quite as you did.

It was one of those times; you would regard me for minutes on end without so much as a twitch, and I would fidget underneath your gaze, trying to figure out what you were thinking, which was impossible.

You crossed the room until you finally stood in front of the couch. I had to crane my neck upwards to see your face.
"I expect... obedience."

"And I a bit of sanity," I shot back. "I suppose Bellatrix and I would not make for the best team, then."

You smiled - and despite it being twisted, and more a smirk than real smile, I smiled back. Perhaps, I thought in that moment, perhaps things were not that bad. Perhaps this could be something.

"Very well, then," you said. "I will teach you. And we shall see how you do with Curses. Your Imperius was quite impressive."

So you did get it. My message, of course, the Death Eater I sent was not an 'it'. Or so I thought.
"I did my best."

"Your best was mediocre," you said at once. "Why is that funny?"

My smile did not fade. "Because I do the same thing," I said. "When I try to get my friends to study."

It was one of quite a few similarities I noticed over the next weeks. There were little mannerisms, say, in the way you held your wand or the way your lip curled when people bugged you. It was the way you preferred to study late at night and by a fire, perhaps reminiscent of old common room was the way you were merciless when you wanted to improve - or when you wanted someone else to improve.

I did not return to Hogwarts, though the school year was still running. You did not want me to and I had no desire to face the music just yet.
Instead, I spent my days studying as I saw fit, with the occasional instruction from you - Dark magic, that wrapped around the soul and came out like a deep, satisfying sigh; dangerous, if you wanted it to be and constructive when you willed it so, but always powerful.
My occlumency skills were, as it turned out, not as terrible as you thought. It was more that you were too good at Legilimency, rather than I too bad at defending myself. Against every one else, of course, my mind was soon guarded as if by a fortress. Impenetrable. Majestic.

The last days of June approached too quickly for my liking and I found myself, inevitably, at the door to the office you had chosen as yours.

"Why do you disturb me?"

You had not looked up and I had moved as quietly as I could, so you were probably still reaching out for my mind. I swallowed my displeasure at it down and got to the point instead.
"The holidays are almost there."

"So?"

"So, the orphanage is expecting me back." Not that I wanted to go back, of course - I imagine foster care was a lot worse in your time, and I honestly could not complain about mistreatment. Yet it had never been home. Not like Hogwarts had been.

"Those Muggles need not expect anything from you."

"Those Muggles," I reiterated. "Are going to send out the police if I don't show up. So either I'm going back or someone has to sort things out with them. Confund them, I mean, not kill."

Your lip curled. It had been two minutes and you were already exasperated with me. Of course, I already knew of your temper, though I had never had to suffer it until now. I did not particularly care to, either - you had had Bellatrix screaming for hours because she had let the Prophecy get destroyed.
Sheer dumb luck, I suppose, that it did not hit me that instance, no matter how often she cried 'It was her! It was her!'

"Do it yourself," you ordered.

"I can't," I said. "I have the Trace still on me, the minute I use magic outside the house, the Ministry is going to descend on me with a fury."

Indeed, the newspapers, especially the Prophet, were speculating about where I had gone - no matter if I had been dragged into the fire kicking and screaming. They wrote about my allegiance, my supposed secret plans, my involvement in your cause. All of it rubbish.
I was just lucky enough that Dumbledore had officially gone on record to say that I would be welcome at Hogwarts at any time, but if I was spotted bewitching Muggles, I would never see Hogwarts again.

"Besides," I said. "Theo will want his home back."

Your eyes sparkled curiously. "He shall be glad to host the Dark Lord, and his daughter."

"His mother's dead, and we've sent his father to Azkaban," I shot back. "Now we're occupying his house? It's frankly inappropriate that we're even here now."

"You care too much about your followers."

"How can I not?" I asked, genuinely curious. You did not care - you probably never cared, and they still followed you. Today, I know it was fear. Fear, and the occasional delusion of grandeur. It was never admiration, or trust, or - Merlin forbid - love. "How can I ask them to follow if I will not lead? I did a terrible job of it this summer, and the least I can do is give Theo some privacy."

You contemplated, in that way you did, silently, unreadable - and then you turned back to your desk. "We will stay here," you announced. "And I'll send someone to that Muggle place."

"No killing," I said, and was struck with the thought that someone else might have suffered your wrath for such words. Others had been killed for less.

No one was killed at the orphanage, at least that I knew of. All I knew was that a man named Yaxley had gone off and reported back to me that no one even remember that I had ever been in that place.

Theo returned, pale but much more upright than I would have expected. He accepted us as graciously as you had proclaimed he would, though it was most likely just a facade.

When we were alone, he only spoke to me once. "Blaise says you should write to Tracey," he told me with a blank face. "She's worried sick."

I wrote to Tracey, who was elated that I was in fact still alive - I was sure you'd fallen off that Thestral, they talk about that dangerous trip all the time - and I wrote to Blaise, who never answered me.
First I thought that he might have been on vacation and too busy to answer, but as September approached, it became obvious that he remained silent on purpose.

I met Tracey in Diagon Alley, where I was only allowed to go with three of your cronies, who I thought were doing a very poor job of being inconspicuous. She nodded sympathetically when I told her of Blaise's silence.
"He's really upset with you," she said in a hushed voice, as if everyone was listening in on a sixteen year old's friendship troubles. "For disappearing out of the blue."

Worst of all, you were listening in on a sixteen year old's friendship troubles - either you had your Death Eaters report back to you or plugged the information straight from my thoughts (or both) - and told me very sternly that I should pay attention to more important matters.
It was perhaps that day that I learnt not to come to you with matters of the heart.

Here's another thing that I did not come to you with: in late August, mere days before my return to Hogwarts, my pre-bed routine was interrupted by a harsh, desperate knock on the door.

It was Draco Malfoy, pale, with dark bags under his eyes and dry lips. He stepped past me without a word, glanced around the room, and then said, in a terrified voice that I had never heard from him before: "I need your help. And you can't tell anyone. Not even the Dark Lord."


Leave a review, please, it would make me very happy ;)