Chapter 26

Louise, mein herz…

The Knockturn Alley had a bad name. It was the sort of place that respectable families avoided. It was also the sort of place place that dubious people frequented. Its dark and dingy streets, narrow lanes and stench filled shops were enough to put any decent wizard off. That, of course, did not apply to wizards of darker inclinations.

The backdoor of Borgin and Burke flew open and out stumbled a disgruntled looking youth. His hair was blond and he had a pompous air about him that one attaches to royalty. He, of course, did belong to a noble lineage. He was a Malfoy.

"Bloody scum! It seems that they have forgotten how to treat a certain class of customers. When my father knows of this…" he muttered under his breath but the rest of his sentence was cut off as soon as he caught sight of the handsome youth who stood leaning against one of the walls. His piercing grey eyes looked over Malfoy in amusement and gave him a pitiless smirk. A strange look of fear crossed Malfoy't features and he froze at the sight of this boy. This could not be good. It would not go well.

"Tom."

Tom merely raised his eyebrow at Malfoy's address and beckoned him to come closer. Malfoy hesitated and looked sideways, as if searching for an escape route but he found none. He gulped and stumbled over to Tom with fearful steps.

"So you survived after all…" Tom said and started walking towards a darker alleyway with Malfoy trailing after him. His voice had the vindictive quality of a hot iron rod. Again, Malfoy looked for an exit, a leeway through which he could escape but in vain. A five minute walk later, Tom stopped abruptly and turned to face Malfoy who nearly collided with him.

"This place seems good enough for an amiable chat, don't you think?" Tom's voice was conversational as her surveyed the frightened boy. Malfoy wasn't fooled that his master was deeply displeased with him. The softer Tom's tones were, the more dangerous his actions would be. He swallowed and looked down, giving Tom a small nod.

"How did you survive?"

"I…" Malfoy hesitated. He couldn't tell Tom that he had come to know of the attack at the last moment. That he had chosen to not let him know of the same in order to be rid of him. But it seemed like Tom already knew. He could see the cruel sneer that spread on Tom's face as he pondered his own actions.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't know? That I, the heir of Salazar, would die as a result of your omission?" Tom's gentle tones bespoke the menace lurking underneath.

"Whom else did you manage to save?"

"L… Lestrange," Malfoy spoke quickly and took a step away from Tom's dark magic that swirled about him and lashed violently at his face. He whimpered in pain as the enraged dark magic penetrated his skin and twisted his nerves to cause him pain. Tom' face was as unreadable as ever. He seemed very much bored by the boy's predicament.

"What do you know about the barracks?" As suddenly as it had come, the onslaught stopped and Tom's question registered itself in his mind.

"They're recruiting. Everyone who can fight is allowed," Malfoy stuttered.

"And why aren't you in one of them…? Is it because your family plans to flee this country…? "

Malfoy closed his eyes and grabbed at his wand, ready to surprise Tom and flee but to his dismay, his pocket was empty. He looked back at Tom in panic.

"Yes, as foolish as ever…" Tom gave him a derisive sneer as he twirled Malfoy's wand between his own fingers.

"Join the barracks, Malfoy…" His tone was commanding this time. It had the hardness of steel in it.

Malfoy's eyes snapped to Tom's expressionless face as he considered the latest order.

"You have no power anymore, Tom…" Malfoy stammered, with courage he did not know he had possessed, but in the hindsight, it was a foolish sentence to utter. The swift change in Tom's demeanour was remarkable. His grey eyes turned crimson around the edges. His face hardened as he clasped Malfoy's wrist and drew back his sleeve, revealing the ugly Dark Mark. His lips curled into a twisted smile.

"Not yet…" he whispered as he pressed the Mark that tarnished Malfoy's skin. He let out a bitter cry of agony and his face contorted in anguish, but a single wave of Tom's hand was enough to silence him. Silent tears oozed from his eyes as he stared at his face in horror. "Do as I say, Malfoy, for I am your master still…" Malfoy nodded hastily as his knees gave way and he collapsed onto the cold ground. Seeing that, Tom withdrew and flicked his wrist. The pale wand landed in his hand and he pointed it at Malfoy.

"Take Lestrange with you when you go, will you?" he spoke lightly and jabbed the tip of his wand in Malfoy's heart, uttering a strange spell under his breath. "This should guarantee your undying devotion. Disobey my orders and your heart would burst."

He patted Malfoy on the head in a genial fashion but grabbed it a second later and pulled the boy to his feet. The pathetic boy still cried, the weakling, even years of careful instruction had not taught him to be servile.

"Oh, and should any unholy thoughts of deception cross your mind, I hope that this will be an adequate reminder." Tom let go of the whimpering boy and slashed his wand at his hand. Two of his fingers were cleaved from their place and fell onto the muddy ground with a dull thump. The boy tried to howl in pain but Tom's spell still worked and all he could do was fall on all fours and scamper away from Tom. Tom seemed unaffected and shrugged the dust off his cloak. Then, he took off in the opposite direction. He had more pressing works to do, of course. And Hermione would be waiting.

Malfoy would, of course, comply. He had no other option. He wondered if the boy's mother would try to heal the wound though. She'll be in for a rude shock if he does, Tom thought. No, an absence of two fingers should keep his loyalty in check for the time being.

"The baby's been moving frantically without stopping, Tom!" Hermione spoke hysterically and ran to hug him as soon as she saw him enter the spacious tent. "It won't stop. I don't know what's wrong."

She felt another movement in her belly as she stood with her arms around his neck. When he did not respond, she drew back and looked at him. His face was unreadable. She could not fathom what he thought at this particular moment but she did not have a chance to contemplate this further as a small wave of pain cramped the lower side of her belly. She whimpered softly and stepped away from him, staggering as she felt her knees weaken and give way. Immediately, Tom was beside her and broke her fall. He wrapped one arm around her waist, placed the other under her legs and lifted her gently as she let out another 'Oomph' of pain and clutched his shirt tightly.

He then proceeded to her room and sat her in her bed. Her eyes were scrunched up in pain and she bit her tongue to not let the discomfort show in her face. He got in himself and sat behind her so that she was reclined against his back and sat between his legs. He held her hands as another tremor of pain rocked her fragile frame. She squeezed his palms tightly.

"I'm going to try something, okay…" She heard him say. "Take a deep breath in…"

She did so. The pain still lingered in the sides of her stomach and mild tremors agitated her but she did her best to control herself. She felt him hold the fabric of her top and gently shrug her out of it.

"Tom… what?" Her voice was muffled as she realised, through a haze of soreness, that her back was bared towards him.

"Shhh…" he murmured and placed his hands on her lower back. She felt the gentle tingle of his magic invade her skin and noticed the sting along her swollen sides subside. It still ached but she heard him chant, slowly, tenderly and she could feel the throbbing fade as his comforting magic invaded her skin and lodged itself there. She breathed heavily as the discomfort muted to non-existence. Her frenzied mind eased out of its panic and she knew that all would be fine.

"You're alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. She was painfully aware of his warm breath tickling her naked back. He was too close. She wondered why she did not feel more humiliated at that fact. "Why did that happen? Is something wrong with the baby?"

"Did you read any books on magical pregnancies, Hermione?" he spoke as he offered her her top clothing. She took it gingerly, keenly blushing now that she was no longer in pain and could feel the awkwardness of the situation. Hastily, she dressed herself. It wasn't really that awkward though, was it? They had kissed before. She knew he felt for her. She knew she felt something for him.

It wasn't awkward at all.

"I did," she answered truthfully. He leaned against the headboard and tugged her to recline against him. The back of her head rested in his chest and she sighed as a feeling of warmth encompassed her. He was close. She had no cause to be concerned anymore. He had all the answers, didn't he?

"Then you know that the foetus is extremely resilient and can bear almost any trauma, unless of course the mother dies or chooses to abort it," She heard him speak as he wrapped his arm over her shoulders and nuzzled against her hair. She gave him a tiny nod, moving her head up and down against the fabric of his clothing and it made a crinkling sound. "Sometimes, though, there may be a deficit of magical energy. I believe that is what caused the cramping,"

"So… you provided extra magical resources from which it could gain nourishment?"

"Yes…"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Tom's hands came to rest on her cheeks, drawing soft circles as he conversed with her and his other hand was entangled in her hair She was fine. The baby was fine.

"Where were you today?" she asked him after a moment's silence.

"I fancied a walk. There's only so much you could do around here…"

"Tom?"

"Yes."

"Do you think we could stay here? For some more time, that is?"

An amused chuckle followed by the pressing of his chin on her head registered itself in her mind. What was so funny about it? It was cold, sure, but they did not feel much of it. It was isolated but it wasn't like she fancied much company. The surroundings were quiet, there was very little danger from outside and she did not want to go back. She did not want to leave here. Why couldn't he see that? Surely, he wouldn't leave her alone here, would he?

No, he wouldn't leave her. He had helped her, offered her shelter and security and he was extremely kind to her. He wouldn't take it all back, would he?

"Why do you want to stay here, Hermione?" he whispered in her ear, caressing her neck and shoulders as he spoke. She shivered at the heated touch and craned her neck to see him. She could see faint amusement sparkle in his fathomless grey eyes.

"I don't know."

"I thought you did not like me…" Tom said and placed a chaste kiss on her temple. Hermione's fingers intertwined themselves in his hands.

"You know that that isn't true…"

"What are you reading?" she asked him as she sat down beside him near the warm fire.

"A treatise on Elemental Magic," he mumbled absently. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Why would he be reading one of those books? Did he know something? How could he? But then again, if he did know something, it wouldn't make any difference, would it? The time line was wrecked. He was no longer the grotesque Dark Lord that he had become in his own time. And if truth be told, there was nothing, no information she had that could remotely affect anything. Still, why would he read it? What could he possibly be interested in?

Was she being paranoid? Tom was a friend, no, he was more than a friend…

"What is that?" she asked quietly in a nonchalant voice. But it was too quiet. Even to her own ears, she sounded keenly interested.

Too interested.

With apprehension, she saw Tom lift an eyebrow and scrutinise her face. She couldn't read him. His face was a blank mask.

"Why feign ignorance, Hermione?" He shut the book and asked her in a bored voice. She looked away. Why was she doing that, she asked herself. She trusted him. She trusted him.

I desire you.

She did not answer. There was nothing to say. He knew that she was aware of the subject. What charm the book held for him was something she did not know. But she did know what elemental magic was. She was trying to deceive him. She felt ashamed for acting in such heedless manner. She trusted him.

Suddenly, he moved closer to her and she started. Taking her smaller hands in his, he brought them to his lips and kissed her palms. The intensity in his eyes was unsettling and Hermione had to fight with all her strength to not look away.

"Do you trust me?"

Her hands shook a little as he asked the question. Did she trust him? Yes, her mind supplied. She gave him a small nod. He pulled her to himself and enclosed her in his arms. She relaxed against his chest.

"Let me love you then," he murmured into her hair, her chestnut hair that he adored so much, "all of you…"

Did he mean what she thought he did? A strange jittery sensation ran through her nerves, making her feel prickly all over, as she heard him. She wanted to draw back. She wanted to hide herself. She wanted to cry. And yet… she wanted to feel him. She liked being in his embrace. She wanted to hide herself in him. Not having an answer, in fact, dreading the answer she did not feel herself fit to utter, she remained silent. She had been doing that a lot lately. Ever since…

Tom, noticing no change in her countenance, proceeded to kiss her on her cheek. He had kissed her before, but this was something different entirely. It was new. It was the wrong kind of right. He pressed his lips against her and drew small circles on her neck. She shivered and her arms around his neck flinched. But it was momentary. Like all good things in life, the kiss ended as soon as it began. Tom drew back, his eyes fiercely fixed on her face and she felt as if he were trying to peel off layers of her skin and gaze into her soul. She swallowed a bit. The fire crackled merrily and for the first time she was glad that it was warm. She did not like cold. Cold hurt.

"I want you to tell me if you want this," he asked her trailed a finger down her face. She stared at the worn out rug for a few seconds and then gave him a tiny nod. Yes.

"Willingly?"

She nodded again. She felt something shift in the air around her. Tom's magic reached out from his hands and gently tickled her face, now her hands and ran down to her feet. She looked at Tom in puzzlement, her eyes questioning the change around her. She noticed herself surrounded by a blue aura; it was distinctive and smelt divine.

"Our magical energies are compatible, it seems," he said and twisted his finger around one of her curls. "Look how delightedly it surrounds you…"

Hermione looked at her hands in confusion. She had never seen such a thing happen before. She had never read about it either. She felt happier, uplifted even as she looked into Tom's eyes that shone in admiration. Was it for her? Did he really want her? She closed her eyes as Tom't finger trailed down her neck and stopped as it reached her robe. He drew her close and removed it from her shoulders. It pooled around her in a strange rustle of thick fabric and she felt Tom pull her towards him, with desire and need, just as her eyes fluttered open to meet his.

And then, he kissed her. It was full, warm kiss and she felt heated desire for him trickle down in her veins. He was gentle as ever, coaxing her small mouth to open to his soft lips as he delved his tongue into her mouth. It tasted just like it had the last time. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as she felt him trail his finger down to the seam of her top and lift it, thereby caressing her tender flesh underneath.

You and I, blurred lines,

We come together every time

He broke the kiss after a long, sensuous exchange and took in her flushed face. She could see desire in his eyes and she was flattered at the attention that he gave her.

Freely.

Even when she had nothing to offer him.

He kissed the top of her head as his hand went down to open the buttons on her top. There weren't many of them but he took the longest time, prying each one open slowly and running his hand over the fabric as he pressed soft kisses on her cheeks, her eyes, her nose…

From the outside, everyone must be wondering why we try…

Why do we try…

She let out a gentle sigh as he slipped the top off her shoulders. She felt embarrassed and this led her to put her arms around him and hug him tightly. She did not want him to see all the ugly scars that marred her front. She felt him chuckle at her action and he ran his fingers through her brown curls.

"Relax…" he whispered as his other hand trailed down her back. She closed her eyes and felt him press the tense knots under her skin. He was unravelling the tight centres of her nerves and in doing so, she felt, unravelling her. She clung to his shirt, not daring to look at his face, not daring to meet his eyes for she could not, would not be able to stand the fervent desire in them.

Too wrongs, no rights,

We lose ourselves at night

She felt her grip tighten around him as he undid the clasp of her brassiere. It was time. He would see her. Would he be disgusted at her disfigured flesh? She trembled all over. She felt the air around her, the unadulterated magical aura that surrounded and comforted her and wondered, no prayed, that he wouldn't hate her. He couldn't hate her… But he did not draw back from her. His arms surrounded her and he cuddled her, to comfort her, to soothe her…

A from the outside, from the outside,

Everyone must be wondering why we try,

Why do we try

"Are you afraid?" he whispered into her right ear.

"Yes."

"Is it the first time you do this by choice?" his deep voice enquired. Hermione nodded against him, hoping that he wouldn't question her further. He seemed to perceive her reluctance and enclosed her tightly, possessively, as if he cherished each moment of this encounter as much as she did. After sometime, he held her upper arms and drew back.

Wait on, thunder sky,

Wherever there's smoke, there'll soon be fire…

"You are beautiful, you know…" he said as he took in her exposed flesh and tugged her brassiere away from her. Crimson rose up Hermione's cheeks and she lowered her eyes. Did he not mind the scar than right across her breast, an ugly purple one that never ceased to remind her of the past? He couldn't possibly find her attractive, not in her pregnant state, not in this…

He touched the front of her neck and she felt his pulse through their skin. She looked up. She looked up and met his grey eyes. There was something in them. She felt like she saw him for the first time. There was something raw and passionate in those silver eyes of his, which had turned darker and more heated, that she was forced to look down again. She felt exposed and strange. She felt her stomach flutter up. She felt… That was all, she simply felt… She didn't question why he stared at her in this manner or why he touched her so carefully, as if he were afraid that she would break… No, feeling was enough.

He traced wonderful patterns on her skin and explored every spot, every ugly scar, and every bitter mark and yet she could not see any change in his desire, his passion that was building up and she felt terrified at the possessiveness she felt in his touch.

What could bring bad luck,

I've been looking at you too much…

He lowered her gently and she could feel the thick worn out rug underneath her naked flesh. He kissed her again, first on her mouth then on her neck, then the part where her neck met her shoulder then down to the point just above her chest. Her lower lip trembled in anticipation and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. It felt nice to be wanted.

She felt his hands move over her front, she felt them caress her skin languidly and draw big circles on her swollen stomach. She shivered in pleasure as his soft lips brushed against the hardened portions of her chest. She put her arms around his neck and drew him closer, needing, wanting more...

Baby, in our widest moments,

We could be the greatest; we could be the greatest…

His beautiful face hung around the edges of her feverish eyes as she reached up a hand to caress it. He supported himself on his arms and knees, making sure to not let her bear any of his weight as he kissed her once more before pushing into her folds. She let out a soft whimper of pleasure. Was this what heaven felt like? It could not be mere desire. It had to be more.

It had to be more.

Baby in our wildest moments,

We could be the worst of all…

Ecstasy and desire rolled off them in waves that overwhelmed her being. Tom's hold on her body was firm as tremors of pleasure rocked her petite form, one after the other and she held onto him for dear life. Her fingernails clawed Tom's back and somewhere in the heat and haze of frenzied ardour, she wondered if she had drawn blood. But he did not complain. Or perhaps she did not hear him.

She crested over and over again, sobbing his name in delight and love…

Yes, love…

It had to be love…

She had never felt this before…

It couldn't be anything else…

"Tom…" she whispered, her tremulous voice breaking as it emerged from her throat. She felt him increase the pace, he taught her his rhythms and she complied, for the first time she understood the meaning of the word desire and she clung on to it. She clung on to Tom for dear life.

"Hermione…" His voice was husky and she felt him hold her just as dearly as she held him.

Close.

Tight.

Inside.

And she wished that the moment wouldn't end. She forced her eyes to stay open, regardless of how much they protested. She wanted to remember his face, his silver eyes that burned in passion as he moved inside her, his perfect lips that kissed every part of her small body and his wonderful, Grecian nose. She was glad to be with him. And somewhere, within her, she knew that he felt the same.

She felt him burn and ache for her as much as she did...

And as she eased back into his arms, reclining against him, tired and sated, she knew that things had changed for them. She knew what she felt for him. She did not reason this connection. For too long had she analysed and refrained. She did not need to do so now. She could just be. And around him, she just was.

A peaceful smile played on her lips as she watched the dying embers of fire before slipping into the realm of sleep.

In the middle of it,

We walk, we walk the line

Looking back I miss it,

Our wildest moments…

Tom's observed the slumbering girl next to him. They had fallen asleep on the floor of the rather spacious tent after their passionate love making the night before. She looked peaceful and content, an expression that Tom rarely saw on her and he had to admit that its effect on her was face quite charming. A great mass of brown curls wreaked havoc with his face and he removed some of them with his hands. His hand was still encircling her waist, her back resting securely against his chest and he could not help but feel that they fit perfectly.

She fit perfectly beneath and beside him.

He closed his eyes, breathing in her fragrance and mused upon the next course of action. He need not be nice to her anymore. The last part of his plan was concluded and he would not need to be charming or overly kind to her. In fact, he could simply lock her up somewhere until his plan bore fruit and dispose her. Yes, that would be the easy way, wouldn't it? It would leave him with more time to pursue his quest for power and he wouldn't have to pretend to be nice anymore. He ran his fingers through her curls and pulled at one of them. She made small sound of discomfort but did not wake up. She looked rather adorable; her face lit by the white morning and the innocent smile that played on her lips was… lovable. Tom sighed into her hair.

He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to break the trust with which she had given herself to him the previous night. And this, Tom thought, was a very unusual feeling for him. He could still remember her chiming laughter as he had tickled her a few days ago, her sweet face below him as she gazed into his eyes with uncertainty and faith. Merlin, what the hell was wrong with him? No, this was weak. He did not need one more weakness. He could not, would not, care about her. No matter how nice it felt to be with her, he could ill afford this failing. She was a means to an end and he had taken care of the means. The only thing he had to wait for now was the end.

"Tom?" He felt her small hand on his face and found her gazing at him with her shining brown eyes. He smiled, despite himself, and petted her hair. She reached up to kiss him, putting her arms around him and resting against his chest. He was painfully aware of her large stomach that created a barrier, but he ignored it for the time being and responded to her kiss with equanimity. After a long time, they broke apart and she drew the blankets around herself once more, as if remembering the she was naked and he felt the heat in her cheeks radiate from her. He smirked at her shyness.

"I… I'll get dressed then?" Tom lifted an elegant eyebrow, as if to indicate that nothing stopped her from proceeding. She blushed once more and cleared her throat.

"Just… turn around," she mumbled. Tom was deeply amused. But perhaps he should let her get dressed and do away with the façade he had maintained for quite some time now. No, he couldn't waste any more time on her. He'll let her get dressed, he'll get dressed himself and then they would simply move to a location he had secured the week before. He would leave her there and attend to more pressing matters. Her consent didn't matter anymore. He was tired of the charade.

He heard the faint crinkle of clothes as she dressed herself. He, too, took the chance and put on his own clothes. He had only just put on his robes and summoned his wand when…

Everything went deathly quiet.

A loud unearthly noise broke out around them, followed by incessant claps of thunder. Quick as a panther, he grabbed her hand and ran towards his room. This wasn't expected. His wards weren't supposed to break. But he'd be damned if he let anyone ruin his plans. He reached his room and swirled his pale wand in an elaborate silver sheen motion, erecting the strongest barrier he knew. It surrounded the room in a deep blue mist.

He composed himself and drew in a deep breath. Hermione's hand was desperately clutched in his own. She too seemed to have made the connection. They had found them. She had her wand out, he noticed.

"Hermione, I need you to stay calm alright. I need some time to take down the anti-Apparition wards," he unclasped his own hand from hers. She gave him a fearful nod and took on her battle stance, her eyes darting to every corner of the room. Yes, she had been a fighter for quite some time in her life. There was no doubt of it. They hadn't entered yet, no, they hadn't stripped down all the layers of protection yet. He had time, he thought, as he furiously concentrated on the foreign magic outside the blue shield he had produced.

For five minutes he worked out the tangled web of the alien wards. He was close, too close. But suddenly, he heard footsteps. The blue shield was fading. He had to concentrate and strip down the wards or else they might not be able to escape this time. He saw Hermione move beside him, her wand held desperately in her hands as she too anticipated the arrival of their enemies.

"Tom, quick!" she spoke frantically. "I think they've entered."

Tom did not pay heed to her comment. He was so engrossed in his task that he did not notice Hermione grab at his arm. Close, very close… It was almost finished.

Yes. It was done.

A sudden pain shot through his arm and he realised that they had entered. A curse, no… His mind began to grow delirious and he did not hear Hermione's desperate cry as she saw him get hit by the curse. He collapsed behind the bed with a dull thud. Only one man stood at the doorway. He had fired the curse. There wasn't anyone else with him. But she could hear footsteps. Oh, the loud thud of heavy boots trampling her haven.

Her shelter.

Her Eden.

The incessant onslaught of the loud noises would grate on her mind for years to come.

She raised her wand and shot back a stunner at him. She looked around for escape, desperately, as the man shot a jet of green light at her. The noises were growing louder. Any moment, they would arrive and that moment would be her last. She ducked behind the bed. Tom had collapsed to the floor. She knew the curse he had been hit with. She wouldn't let him die.

She wouldn't let him die.

Another curse grazed the hair on her head and she hissed at him. She did not have time. Tom couldn't die. She wouldn't let him, she thought as she fired a dark flame at him. She had only seconds.

Only seconds.

She waved her wand in a starlight pattern and slashed at the man at exactly the same time as he fired a green curse at her. She ducked once more. But the man hadn't had a chance to raise his shield and he collapsed as soon as the curse hit him.

Only a second left…

She grabbed hold of Tom's wand and his hand and concentrated on Apparating to the first place that came to her mind. Before they vanished though, she saw more men enter the room. Oh God, they were so many… She hoped that the last green curse that shot out of a mean looking man's wand wouldn't hit her or Tom. It was her last thought before both of them vanished.

"What news?" Smith asked the surly man who sat in front of him, his crisscrossed fingers and a scowl suggesting an agitated state of mind.

"We've lost the Emen Bridge," he spoke, after a long silence. "But that is not a loss that cannot be reclaimed." Smith gave him a tiny nod and opened the bottle of liquor that lay in front of him. Being flung into the heat of war was no easy task, as he was finding out on their long excursions, strategising was easier. The on ground reality was vastly different.

"I see the ring on your finger," The Minister hesitated before asking, but he carried on anyway. This question had been bothering him for a long time. Severus had seemed less unstable of late. He was disturbed, yes, but he also seemed more human and dare he say… approachable?

Severus scrutinised his face for a long time before giving the man a cursory nod.

"I did not know you were married."

Again, Severus said nothing. But Smith was an infinitely curious man and when he did not feel immediately threatened, he could be very daring in what he enquired of others. Undaunted still, he asked again,

"Where is she?"

A nerve twitched in Severus's face as he glared at the man before him. A few moments later, though, he sighed and looked away.

"I don't know," he spoke blankly, his tone betraying nothing of the haunted desolation that he felt in his bones.

"Is she alive?" Smith ventured again; possibly encouraged by the fact that he was getting answers for the first time. Severus did not answer and shot the former Minister a furious look.

"Just shut up, Smith," he bit out. Smith hesitated, another question rested on the tip of his tongue but he refrained from voicing it. It seemed reasonable enough to not push this man's buttons too much. He was still dangerous, after all.

"Ten new people have enrolled in the barracks today. I want you to look them over." Smith drew out a paper to hand it to Severus but he simply waved it away.

"Tomorrow."

Smith put the paper away and observed the dark wizard before him. He looked more tired and dejected than usual. He supposed it was a gruelling affair, to lose your wife and not know if she were alive or not. Or maybe he did know and still couldn't find her. He could begin to see why this wizard was so ruthless in his actions. His entire demeanour, at all times, bespoke of the great tragedies that must have befallen him in his life. He wasn't very old and if he had to guess, Smith would put him in his thirties. Rather young, then, by wizard standards.

A sharp hiss from Severus made Smith look at him again. The fingers of his hand had gone taut and the ring… Oh God, the ring was crimson red. Smith gulped. No, this couldn't be good. He sat there, watching a bevy of colours and emotions, none of them discernible, cross Severus's pale face. He sat rigid in his chair, looking with clenched jaw at the ring and did nothing. Smith was at a loss. He did not know whether to sit still or flee.

A few minutes passed and neither of them moved. Severus still had his black eyes trained on the crimson ring on his finger, there was a strange expression on his face, as if he expected someone or something to materialise out of the ring.

A crashing noise caused both of them to look up. A boy in his teens tumbled into the room with low ceiling.

"Anthony sent me to let you know that there's someone outside," he panted against the wall, "a girl and a boy. She just landed outside out of nowhere. The boy seems hurt."

Severus's eyes glittered ominously at the young lad's words and he got up quickly, walking down with purposeful strides with Smith in the tow.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. DO tell me if you liked this chapter please. I am kinda confused.

Anyway, the menage was a simple venture at humour. Of course neither of the two men would agree.

Sorry if it offended anyone.

Do Review.