Warning: some violence


Chapter XXIX

The Portkey brought them to an unknown place, and Cyrille felt herself being shoved by an invisible force, making her land hard on her bottom. Her captor landed gracefully, his wand pointed at her.

A quick survey around her showed her the vague outline of some furniture, suggesting that she was in a house. A manor, perhaps, judging by all the space. She could see darkness through the windows—no houses, no people, just trees—surrounding the perimeter. It was as though they were in the middle of nowhere.

"Up," said the Death Eater masking as a Hufflepuff boy, his wand still threateningly leveled at her. Cyrille found herself obeying.

"What do you want?" the girl said, projecting an image of calmness through the wreck that was her nerves.

"You're a smart girl; you know what I want," said the man, his face concealed by the darkness. When Cyrille chanced a glance at him, she was surprised that the sweet Hufflepuff boy was no longer there. Instead, she found herself looking at a man, possibly in his forties, his face sallow.

The girl remained silent, her hand slipping inconspicuously behind her. She felt for her wand and kept her hand on its handle when she found it. Cyrille was no fool; she knew that in a duel, she would lose, but right then was her only chance. She had the element of surprise on her side.

She snapped her head a little to the right, fooling the Death Eater into looking. Once the man was distracted, she pulled her wand out and yelled, "Flipendo!"

The Death Eater was thrown back by an invisible force, leaving Cyrille to run for the entrance. She ran as quickly as her legs allowed her, but it was taking a lifetime to get to the door. A split second later, she saw jets of red light in her direction, only missing her by a few inches.

The door was right in front of her, and she shoved it open, getting a glimpse of the forest. Suddenly, it slammed back shut, knocking her backwards. She felt a hand pull her up and her heart rate escalated.

The man backhanded her hard across the face, and a loud crack echoed through the room. Cyrille felt her ears ringing and was sure that she would have fallen back down had the man not been gripping her arm tightly. Her eyes involuntarily welled up with tears as she felt the sting on her cheek, a red hand print surfacing.

"You stupid girl!" he said, cupping the girl's chin to force her to look at him. The pain made her wince, but she held her glare. "You and your guardian, you will pay for this."

He stole the wand from the girl and threw it on the ground, stepping on it. The force had split the wood into two, rendering it unusable. Cyrille felt something inside her die; she loved that wand. Now, her only chance of survival was gone.

There was still her locket, she reminded herself. She could use that to let Severus know that she was in trouble, but she refused to do it. She wouldn't let her guardian run straight into danger just for her.

She let the Death Eater drag her down a set of stairs. The man threw her into a dark room, making her land on the cold stone floor. The atmosphere reminded her badly of the Shrieking Shack, and her mind involuntarily conjured the image of Snape, lying on the ground unconscious, bleeding to his death. She couldn't—wouldn't—let that happen again.

The door slammed shut, leaving Cyrille alone in the room. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall, and hugged her knees to her chest. Her mind was reeling with thoughts of escape. A single tear ran down her face, and she wiped at it angrily. She would not cry; she had to be strong. She heard no more of her captor for the rest of the night, but sleep did not come easy.

The next morning, Cyrille was startled awake when the Death Eater kicked the door open. He brought a tray of food with him and put it on the ground. When the girl seemed disinterested, the man shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said and slammed the door once again, leaving her alone.

In a while, her friends would find out that she was missing, and it wouldn't take long for the news to travel to Snape's ears. She knew that keeping the man in the dark was impossible, but she had hoped for a little more time. Or a miracle. Anything, really.

She absently reached for her locket, drawing comfort from it. She was scared—really, utterly scared—for herself and her guardian, and she didn't know what to do. Some Gryffindor she was.

Cyrille buried her head in her arms, sorely tempted to use the locket if only to talk to Severus. The man had explained to her, repeatedly, how the locket worked. It would require her to activate it before it could be of any use. If she alerted Snape to her situation, the magic surrounding the locket would create a bond between them, allowing them to talk to each other for a certain time before requiring to be activated again.

She wouldn't contact the man. In her heart, she knew that it was wrong. Her guardian could be worried sick about her, and it was selfish to keep her whereabouts a secret, but she didn't want him to get hurt. Maybe she was selfish for prioritizing her feelings on the matter, but she didn't care. She had made her decision.

The Death Eater wouldn't kill her—not yet; that she was sure of. His target was Snape, and she was just bait. Otherwise, she would have already been killed.

She stood up from where she sat huddled and walked to the door, tiptoeing in an attempt to see through the bars on top. She wanted to get a glimpse of where she was, at least. Unfortunately, she couldn't reach it no matter how hard she tried. Instead, she took a closer look at the wooden door. There were plenty of scratches on it, suggesting that it had been in use more often than she would like to think.

She put her hand to the wood and attempted to push it if only to see how strong it was, but it didn't budge. Not only was it locked, but it seemed as though something was keeping it from being pushed open. If she had to guess, there was probably a block of wood or something similar slipped on the door handle.

She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't be able to escape unless she did it while her captor visited, and that was going to be very hard to do; she might as well just rot in there.


Back at Hogwarts, Liam was busy looking for Cyrille. The two usually went down together for breakfast, but it was getting late, and the girl still hadn't made an appearance.

"Is Cyrille still up there?" asked Liam upon seeing Katherine and Angela coming down from the girls' dormitory.

"She was gone when I woke up," said Angela, yawning.

"Same here. I thought she went down early," said the other girl.

"Maybe I didn't see her," said Liam, a puzzled look on his face. He thanked the two girls and went to the Great Hall, where he saw Blake and Hallie standing together.

"What took you so long?" asked Blake, his arms crossed.

"I was looking for Cyrille," said the boy, and the other boy's eyebrows shot up.

"She's not here," said Hallie, looking around just to make sure.

"Maybe she's in the Hospital Wing?" suggested Blake, and the other two agreed. They went to the Hospital Wing, hoping to find the girl there. Instead, they saw Snape, standing at the entrance in his usual black robes.

"Yes, I will not exhaust myself, Poppy! I have said that several times now. Are you growing deaf?" snapped the man. The mediwitch had just agreed to release him in exchange for his promise to lay off the work and take naps.

"And you will take naps!"

Liam cleared his throat to alert the man of his presence as well as to spare the man his dignity. Snape turned his attention on the three, his glare perfectly in place.

"And what are you three doing here?" said the man, his tone menacing. He was half embarrassed that they witnessed the matron's treatment of him and also half angry that they came to visit before his ward did.

"We were hoping to find Cyrille, Sir," said Liam, the embodiment of Gryffindor bravery. They were immune to Snape's glare by now, unless of course the man was genuinely angry; that was still scary as hell.

Snape scowled upon hearing this. "She's not here; I haven't seen her in days," he said, his tone bitter.

The three first years looked at each other, beginning to feel worried. It wasn't like Cyrille to disappear without telling them first, so there had to be a very good reason for this. Sensing that something was off, Snape began to feel uneasy as well.

"When did you last see her?"

"Last night, Sir," said Liam, being the last to have seen the girl. "I saw her before she went up to her dormitory."

"And you are certain she didn't go about wandering the castle after curfew?" asked the man suspiciously. He was going to throttle the girl for disobeying him, he swore.

"I don't know, Sir," responded the boy honestly. "I went up a few minutes after she did."

Calm yourself, Severus, he thought. Cyrille had the locket with her, and he would have already been contacted if anything was wrong. Still, his heart felt uneasy. What if the girl was unconscious somewhere? She wouldn't be able to contact him, and the locket would not be able to detect any distress.

He silently cast a spell to locate the girl; unsurprisingly, it failed to return anything, but it was worth a shot. There was a reason why that spell wasn't widely used; it was highly limited. The spell only worked when the person being located was within a certain perimeter. He was lucky enough to successfully cast that spell during the Boggart incident, but it would be of no help to him at that moment. He silently cursed, wishing he had been more paranoid and cast a Tracking Charm on the girl's locket. Why did he have to think that it was too much of an invasion to his ward's privacy?

He left the three children and strode to the Great Hall, his eyes expertly scanning the crowd as soon as he got there. Seconds later, his gaze landed on two particular girls, and he stalked toward them. The students involuntarily parted to give way to him.

Angela and Katherine felt a strange prickling sensation, and they instinctively turned to the source of their discomfort. When they saw Snape, they stood up wide-eyed, thinking they were in trouble.

"Have you seen Miss Cromwell?" asked Snape, his tone neutral.

The girls shook their heads with much more vigor than was necessary. "Liam was also looking for her earlier, Sir, but she was already gone when we woke up," said one of them uncertainly.

"She wasn't in bed last night when we slept either," added the other when the thought suddenly struck her. Snape sensed that there was more to this, and he was legitimately beginning to worry.

"And what time had you gone to bed last night?" asked Snape as the two girls exchanged a discrete yet undoubtedly guilty look.

"Eleven, Sir," said Angela, deciding to tell the truth. She and her friend looked like they expected to be shamed in the middle of the Great Hall.

Their Head of House nodded curtly, wondering if he should take points. Ever since becoming the Gryffindor head, he had begun imposing bed times for students because he believed that they weren't responsible enough to be left alone; these two were proving him right.

"Next time, I will take points," he said, deciding to let them go since they had told him the truth.

The girls looked like gaping fish, not believing that the man was actually letting them off. Despite the situation, Snape found himself amused. Even after being gone for almost a week, he could still instill fear.

Snape turned away, trying to wrap his mind around the new piece of information he got. The situation was looking worse and worse, and he was almost certain that something had happened to Cyrille.

"Wait, Sir!" said Angela, and the man turned to look at her questioningly. "There's this letter on her bed. I don't know what it is since I didn't read it, but..." she trailed off. She hoped she didn't inadvertently get Cyrille in trouble, but she sensed that something was wrong.

"What letter?" asked the man sharply.

"I don't know; it was on her bed."

Snape immediately left, intent on getting to Gryffindor Tower. He climbed up the steps hurriedly, letting himself into his ward's room. On her bed was indeed a letter, and he felt a sense of dread upon reading it.

He had been almost certain by the time he spoke to the girls that something was wrong, but this just proved it. Whoever had sent the letter was responsible for this. He stalked out and located Cyrille's friends to inquire about the boy and the handkerchief; the three students told him the truth.

Upon hearing the entire story from them, he immediately inquired about any missing Hufflepuff students. A sixth year had been found missing—an Eric Carter. Snape recognized him as the idiot that had caused an explosion in his class. Realizing the implications of this, he went to the headmistress and briefed her about the situation. She suggested obtaining the Order's help and set out to send messages. In the mean time, Snape's head was reeling with thoughts, getting more questions than answers.

Why wasn't Cyrille trying to contact him? It was making him mad with worry. He paced around his office, not able to sit still. If the foolish girl would only use the locket, then he'd be able to send her a message. The fact that the locket did not alert him of any distress was both good and bad.

On the one hand, the girl could be safe, but what if she was lying unconscious somewhere like he feared? On the other hand, if the locket did alert him, he would know that she was still alive, though in distress. The down side was that he still wouldn't be able to locate her unless she voluntarily activated the magic surrounding the locket and told him where she was.

Damn it all! He was supposed to protect the girl; that was the whole point of the locket. If he found her, he would forget about all his issues regarding privacy and keep a Tracking Charm on it.

Snape decided to go to the Quidditch Pitch, where Cyrille had met the mysterious Hufflepuff boy. Perhaps he'd find something there—some insight, perhaps. A clue. Anything.


The Death Eater entered the room once again, making Cyrille feel uneasy. He stepped closer to the girl, his eyes showing a hint of malice.

"What do you want?" she asked, not liking how close the man was standing to her.

"I just sent your guardian a love letter," said the man, a smirk adorning his face. He conjured two chairs and took a seat on one of them. He gestured for the girl to take the other, but she did not oblige.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, searching the man's face for any emotion, for anything human.

"Sit down," he said as he crossed his leg, his face remaining impassive. "It is not polite to disobey adults. Surely Snape taught you better?"

Cyrille glared at the other man, not liking being ordered to do things. Seeing her defiance, he sent a Stinging Hex which landed on the girl's leg, making her jump sideways. He smirked and leveled his wand at her again, threatening to send another hex.

She unwillingly sat herself down, acknowledging that the man had the upper hand in the situation.

"Good girl," he said playfully. "Incarcerous."

Ropes shot out from the Death Eater's wand, and Cyrille found herself bound to the chair.

"Your guardian will be here tonight, and you will have your reunion. Until then, Stupefy!" The spell hit the girl squarely on the chest, and she knew no more.

"That's right, little girl. Sleep. Soon, he will come, and I will make him know pain like he never knew," he said as he levitated the girl's chair to the living room in preparation for that night. He had nothing against the girl, but he needed her for his plans. He would kill her and make him watch, then he would kill the traitor.


Snape sat alone in his living room, his heart heavy. Never had he felt this way about anyone before, perhaps with the exception of the night he found out that Voldemort was after the Potters, and that certainly didn't end well. He didn't want to lose Cyrille as he had lost Lily.

Several Aurors had already been to the school, trying to find any trace of the missing students. As of that moment, they knew that a Portkey had been used but nothing more. They were still trying to trace where the magic led it, but it was taking too long.

A strange pop made the man look up, and he saw a strange package fall on his desk. After making sure that it wasn't cursed, he quickly tore it open and found a black box. He opened it and felt his heart skip a beat.

A broken piece of wood lay in the box, split in half. The beautiful wood had once been a wand—Cyrille's wand. He took the wand out of the box and gently held it on his palm. His hand shook as his eyes glistened.

Underneath the wand was a letter written in elegant handwriting. Come to Malfoy Manor, it said. Snape crumpled the letter in his hand and immediately tore off to find his ward. He would make the bastard pay; he swore he would.

Exiting Hogwarts as quickly as he could, he did what he thought he would never have to do again—he Apparated to Malfoy Manor, where the Death Eater meetings used to take place. He arrived at the familiar grounds, his wand at the ready.

I'm here now, he thought as he strode toward the entrance with a determined gleam in his eyes. He pictured his ward's face, scared and alone somewhere inside. If he had to guess, she was probably kept in the cellar hidden in the basement, and the thought made him angry.

He entered the manor through the front entrance, having no other choice. It felt stupid, like walking to his own death. However, the thought of Cyrille suffering at the hands of his former comrades made him do it.

He pushed the door open, his heart drumming in his chest. It would be bad if he was confronted by a surprise attack. If he got killed, then no one would save the girl.

"Snape," a familiar voice hissed.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," drawled Snape. So this was the man that had taken his precious girl. "Where is she?"

"Impatient, aren't we? You used to be much... calmer," said the Death Eater, his eyes gleaming. He playfully twirled the wand in his hand.

"I have no time for your games, Lestrange. Hand over the girl or I will make you regret it," he said in his usual cold tone.

"Did you like my little gift?" he asked, continuing the conversational tone. "The poison was just a little bonus, but the wand... wasn't it genius? I would've sent her lifeless body, but where would the fun be in that?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at the man. Was the deed done? Had the man killed his child?

"Where is she?" he repeated, this time much stronger. He took a step closer, and the Death Eater instantly aimed his wand at him, making Snape halt.

He laughed manically.

"Rennervate," said Rodolphus, pointing his wand at the chair beside him. He then turned it so that it was facing the other man, revealing Cyrille, tightly bound. The girl gasped upon seeing her guardian, her face white.

"Severus," she whispered, her eyes trailing on the man. Snape looked at her impassively, the tension in his body disappearing momentarily. She was fine. Cyrille was alive.

"Release her," ordered Snape, his voice cold. He didn't want to let his ward see this side of him, but he had no choice. It was a matter of life and death.

"You don't get to make the orders, Snape. Not anymore," said the Death Eater, his lips spreading into a slow, vicious smile. "For years, I've watched you slowly rise into the Dark Lord's ranks, making him believe that you were the loyal spy. I've always had my doubts; so did Bella, but the Dark Lord never listened."

"The Dark Lord is a fool, killed by his own arrogance," stated Snape. They were getting closer to the final act, and he knew it. His whole body was on alert as they carried on the conversation.

"No, the Dark Lord was killed by you!" yelled Rodolphus, his eyes flashing in anger. "If you hadn't betrayed him, do you think that the stupid Gryffindor boy would have been able to defeat him?"

"Potter was marked by the Dark Lord as his equal."

"That's a load of bull!" yelled the Death Eater, angry red sparks shooting out from his wand. The sparks landed on the ceiling with a sizzle, making the gathered dust on the ceiling fall to the ground like snow.

He suddenly pulled the girl's hair and pointed his wand at her throat, making the girl gasp.

Snape lunged forward, only to be held back by someone behind him. The second man wrapped his arm around Snape's neck, his wand poking Snape painfully on the back.

"Did you think it was going to be that easy?" whispered the man in Snape's ear.

"Rabastan," said Snape, his voice coming out as an angry snarl. "Let her go! This has nothing to do with her!"

"On the contrary, this has everything to do with her," said Rodolphus as he slowly let go of the girl's hair. He smirked, and Snape felt himself engulfed by dread. He knew that smirk; it was the devil's smirk—the smirk that had appeared every time he tortured Muggles for entertainment, every time he killed out of pure spite.

This time, the smirk was aimed at Cyrille, and he called out, "Crucio!"

The girl let out a deafening scream, and Snape felt his insides twist with anger and disgust. They were torturing an innocent child—his child—just to see him hurt. This was all his fault; he should have been the one in her place.

"Stop!" he yelled, and Rodolphus obeyed, his eyes gleaming maliciously. Cyrille felt her entire body shake, and she let herself cry silently. Severus didn't deserve this. She knew how much it hurt the man to see this, and it also hurt her that she could do nothing. She couldn't even help the scream that she emitted, but the spell just hurt so much; she had never felt anything like it before. Her skin felt like it was being sliced open in different places, and her nerves burned.

"Oh, but this is only the beginning," said the Death Eater as he raised his wand once again.

"No!" Snape almost pleaded, and Rodolphus playfully obeyed. He was enjoying the traitor's suffering.

"You poor, poor child," said the Death Eater as he stroked Cyrille's face. It made the girl feel disgusting, and she bit down on his hand hard.

"Ouch! You stupid girl!" he yelled as he slapped the girl, the impact making her fall sideways on her chair.

Snape used this distraction as a chance. He elbowed Rabastan, who clutched his stomach in pain. He instinctively retaliated with the Killing Curse, but Snape was faster.

"Reducto!" the man yelled, aiming it at the ceiling. Rabastan belatedly realized what was going on, his eyes widening just before the giant chandelier fell on him, and he ceased moving.

Rodolphus turned as Snape cast the Reductor Curse, and his face morphed into one of rage. Leaving Cyrille on the floor with her tumbled chair, he lunged forward at Snape. Years of dueling had let the latter effectively dodge the attack, and he retaliated with his own.

They circled each other like two hawks fighting over prey.

"Sectumsempra!" yelled Snape, but the spell rebounded on the wall, taking a large chunk out of it.

"Crucio!" retaliated Rodolphus. Snape ducked, and the spell went over his head, hitting another wall.

"Stupefy! Relashio! Confringo!" Snape cast a stream of spells, causing the destruction of several parts of the manor. The ceiling began crumbling, and several chunks of it fell on the floor, covering the area with dust and smoke.

Rodolphus emerged from the ruins, his eyes fixated on his target. He raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light came out from his wand. As the spell hit its mark, the Death Eater smirked in satisfaction.


A/N: An action packed chapter and yet another cliffie! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; I was smiling to myself like an idiot as I wrote this. Let this be my gift to you this Christmas. This will also be my last update for the year. Merry Christmas, guys! Happy New Year in advance as well. Thank you so much for reading. I never thought I'd reach a hundred reviews and seventy follows. This has been a great year, and I hope next year will be even better.

Please review! I will consider it as your gift to me as well. :)