Saturday 18 December, 1993:

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...'

Lena flicked back to the book's cover, checking the author's name again.

Charles Dickens, it said.

'Well, he sure knows how to write an opening line,' thought Lena approvingly. And coincidently, one that really struck a chord with her present situation.

The book in question was called A Tale of Two Cities, and it was one of several Muggle novels that Valeriya had sent Lena eleven days ago for her eighteenth birthday. It had been something of a bittersweet day – a relief that she had actually reached it, but also, without Maggie and Rolf to celebrate with her, a reminder of her self-imposed isolation.

Well, she was still seeing Harry every now and then, but she hadn't told him it had been her birthday. And then there was Professor Lupin...

It had been almost six weeks since she'd told him about the Orb and her illness, and since she'd first made any progress with the Patronus Charm. She'd had five lessons since then, and would be having her sixth that night. And while her Patronus was growing stronger, the development was tantalisingly slow. There had been barely any change in her efforts between her last lesson and the one prior to that. But although it was frustrating she still couldn't cast a corporeal Patronus, her ineptitude did give her a valid reason to spend an hour or two every week in the company of Lupin.

It surprised Lena how quickly she had grown to like the werewolf. With Maggie and Rolf it had been a slow, gradual shift from 'well, I don't find your presence irritating' to 'you know, I actually enjoy your company'. But ever since she'd spoken to Lupin in the courtyard on the night of Halloween, Lena had found herself eagerly awaiting each Patronus lesson. She liked talking to him. He was clever, well-read, and funny, in a dry sort of way. Most unusual, however, was that she just felt... comfortable, when she was with him. In fact, he reminded her of some of Valeriya's associates with who she'd gotten on very well as a child.

Except, of course, Lupin was much less morally ambiguous.

Lena's eyes flicked to her watch. It was ten o'clock in the morning.

'Eleven hours to go,' she thought, and vaguely wondered how much of the novel she could read before leaving for her Patronus lesson. 'And lunch and dinner in the Hall,' she reminded herself. It was the last day of term and also a Hogsmeade visit day, so the Great Hall would be relatively empty at lunchtime, and as Head Girl, she would be expected to be there for dinner that night. She grimaced at the thought of the potential social interaction she might have to endure.

In the end, lunch proved not to be a problem. Lena timed her visit to the Hall so that she wouldn't be there the same time as Tiffany and Eve – who, despite Lena's obvious attempts to avoid them, had not taken the hint and still regularly tried to accost her with questions about class work.

Dinner was a slightly different story.

The food had just appeared on the table when Gemma Farley plonked herself down opposite Lena.

"Hey," the Prefect greeted her, smiling.

Lena helped herself to some mashed potato, replying to Farley with an unenthusiastic, "Hi."

Much like Tiffany and Eve, Farley had not been discouraged by Lena's withdrawal of the offer to help her with homework, and had taken it upon herself to walk back to the Slytherin Dungeon with Lena after every Prefect meeting. She didn't seem to mind Lena's reluctance to participate in a conversation, happily filling in any silences with anecdotes of her week.

"So," said Farley cheerfully, "anything interesting lined up for the holidays?"

"Well, I'm staying here, so not really."

"Oh." Farley looked surprised. "Why?"

Lena shrugged. "Because I felt like it."

"You don't want to spend Christmas with family?" asked Farley. Lena gave her a withering look, and Farley immediately blushed. "Sorry," she mumbled, "that was, um, a bit tactless."

Instead of replying, Lena took a mouthful of potato.

An awkward silence ensued for a minute as they ate. Eventually it was broken by Farley.

"It's so weird not having you in Defence class, you know," she commented. "Sometimes Lupin will ask a really difficult question, and all of us just turn to the back of the room where you used to sit, waiting for you to answer. Force of habit, I guess."

"Miss me, do you?"

"Yes." Her response was so quick and so earnest that it made Lena raise an eyebrow, flustering Farley yet again. "I mean, we all do," she said hurriedly. "All of us. You taught us so much last year."

Lena's brow creased. "But you're all learning a lot from Lupin, right?"

"Yes," admitted Farley, "but..." She bit her lip nervously. "But he's not you."

Now it was Lena's turn to fight back a blush. "Well, that's probably a good thing," she replied quickly, before looking down at her plate and jamming in another mouthful of food .

"It's not."

Lena almost choked. Her eyes flew back up to Farley, who suddenly looked mortified.

For a few seconds, an uncomfortable tension hung between them. Then Farley abruptly stood up, her cheeks red. "I just remembered," she said hastily, "I have to talk to Fakhir about, um, something." She stepped out from the bench and turned to leave.

Lena hurriedly swallowed her food. "Erm, Farley?"

"Yes?"

Lena pointed at Farley's still mostly-full plate with her fork. "Your food."

The brunette's face was flaming by this point. "Right." She hesitated, then awkwardly picked up her plate and cutlery, and walked as quickly as she could down the table to where Fakhir Kahn was sitting.

Lena glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed their conversation, but it appeared, mercifully, that no one had. In any case, no one else approached Lena for the rest of dinner.

Later that evening, she made her way to the Defence classroom. Opening the door, she was surprised to find that Lupin wasn't there. Deciding to check if he was in his office, she was halfway up the small staircase when the classroom door opened again, and Lupin came hurrying in.

"Sorry," he called out to Lena, "I got caught up in the staffroom. Last day of term and all that."

"That's all right," said Lena, coming back down, "I only just got here."

She took her usual seat on a front row desk as Lupin shrugged off his robe and lay it over his desk's chair. Then, rolling up the sleeves of his well-worn knitted jumper, he joined Lena in the front row.

"How have you been this week?" Lupin asked her. "Any episodes today?"

Ever since the incident with the Dementors at the Quidditch pitch, Lena had been plagued with randomly occurring chest pains and crippling headaches – a symptom of the poison spreading further through her body. She, Lupin and Dumbledore had taken to calling these 'episodes', and they had been happening at least three or four times a week over the past month.

"Not today," answered Lena. "There was one yesterday morning that wasn't too bad. Or maybe it's just that I'm getting used to them."

He smiled sympathetically. "Well, it was a pleasant surprise to actually see you in the Hall for dinner."

Doing her best to hide her delight that he'd noticed she'd been there, Lena shrugged. "Well, Dumbledore's kind of cracked down on me in regards to eating meals in the kitchens," she explained. "He thinks that as the Head Girl, I shouldn't exclude myself from the rest of the student body so much."

"It's a fair point."

Lena smiled glumly. "I know. It's just hard, you know? Being surrounded by so many witches and wizards when I'm not allowed to use magic..." she trailed off, pulling out her wand and looking at it despondently.

"Lena," said Lupin softly, and she looked back up at him. "I think you're being incredibly brave."

Lena snorted. "Really? Because I've spent these last three months pretty much living in terror because I'm worried that someone's going to find out."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "You know, a rather clever someone once said that there's nothing wrong with fear – it only becomes a problem when in the face of it, you do nothing," he said pointedly.

Hearing Lupin quote Lena's words back to her was oddly moving. And in the face of such sentiment, she could only take the piss out of it.

"Rather clever?" Lena grinned. "She sounds like a fucking genius to me."

Lupin chuckled, shaking his head at her. "I really should start deducting points for your bad language," he told her, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated.

"Whatever," said Lena, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not like any of the house points given out during the year matter, when precedent tells us that Harry will swoop in at the end, do something amazing, and win the cup for Gryffindor."

This seemed to amuse Lupin, but then his expression became a little more serious. "Speaking of Harry, has he spoken to you about the Patronus Charm at all?"

Lena nodded. "The day after what happened on the Hogwarts Express. I just told him the basics – that it's the most effective way of fighting off Dementors, that's it a very difficult spell to learn... and that it's something I can't actually do." She tried to remember what Harry had told her after he'd discussed the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch game with Lupin. "When was it you were going to start teaching him?"

"After the Christmas holidays," answered Lupin, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So that's why he didn't approach you first about learning the Patronus. I was a little surprised when he came to me for help." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "And with that been said–"

"It's time to properly start our lesson?" guessed Lena.

Lupin smiled in response, and soon Lena was up on her feet, calling out "Expecto Patronum!" with all the conviction she could muster, and focusing hard on her most positive memory.

But although silver light flowed out of her wand again and again, it still wasn't enough to be a proper Patronus. After half-an-hour of no progress, Lena was once again becoming incredibly aggravated.

"I don't understand," she told Lupin angrily. "I'm doing everything right – what more can I do?"

Lupin, who had been watching her last attempt with a frown, sighed. "I don't know, Lena," he replied honestly. "Maybe there's just not enough behind that memory to take your Patronus any further."

Lena groaned in frustration. "But it's just about the most positive thing I've ever done!"

"I understand that," said Lupin patiently. "But perhaps it lacks a certain... clarity... of emotion."

"What do you mean?"

"As I said in our first lesson, a Patronus generally requires a memory of pure joy. Now, you've been making progress with a memory of when you felt you did the right thing, and that's excellent. But maybe, deep down, there is a negative emotion attached to it that is preventing you from taking the Patronus to the next level."

As soon as Lupin said this, Lena knew he was right. Saying no to Riddle had been the right thing to do, Lena knew that unequivocally. The problem was she also knew that it had taken far too long for her to come to that decision in the Chamber. As strong as the memory was, it was also tainted by guilt. And unfortunately for Lena, it was exceedingly difficult to find a moment in her life where she hadn't been plagued by guilt.

"Professor," she said quietly, "I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" asked Lupin, looking puzzled.

"A proper Patronus." Lena spread her hands helplessly. "I think this is as good as it gets."

"Oh, come on, Lena–"

She cut him off. "No. I'm telling you, I don't have anything more to give."

Lupin crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Really, you're giving up? Again?"

"This spell," said Lena, starting to get annoyed, "was not designed for the use of everyone. It is literally impossible for some people to cast a Patronus, and I think I'm one of them."

"Nonsense," said Lupin dismissively. "You just think that because you're unaccustomed to struggling with anything."

Without meaning to, Lena raised her voice. "It is not nonsense, it is a matter of fact! Some of us just haven't lived lives that provide the sort of memories one needs for a Patronus!"

A muscle twitched in Lupin's face. "Lena," he began to say, his voice sounding strained, "I understand that your childhood was less than ideal–"

"–Less than ideal?!"

"–But there are a lot of us," Lupin continued, ignoring Lena's indignant interjection, "who have experienced horror after horror in our lives, but still manage to cast corporeal Patronuses."

A small, angry noise escaped Lena. "Argh! No, you're not understanding what I'm saying!"

Lupin threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Then what are you saying?"

"It's not about terrible things happening to me, it's about me doing terrible things!"

Lupin's voice became more sympathetic. "I know everything that happened with the Orb weighs heavily on your–"

"This isn't just about the Orb!" interrupted Lena heatedly. "Professor, I am not a good person. And that might not be a problem for casting a Patronus, if it weren't for the fact that I know I'm not a good person."

A tension crept back into Lupin's voice as he said, "You think I don't understand self-loathing, Lena? I'm a werewolf."

Lena lost it. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" she shouted. "Get over yourself! You didn't choose to be a werewolf! Turning into a monster every full moon – that's not on you! Meanwhile, I've spent the last three months miserably failing at casting a Patronus, because–" A pang shot through Lena, and the next thing she knew, the words were tumbling out of her mouth: "Because the truth is I've known since the start that there is exactly one moment in my life where I felt truly happy!"

And before she could stop herself, Lena closed her eyes and let that one memory fill her entire mind. Then she pointed her wand into the centre of the room. "Expecto Patronum!"

Remus had to shield his eyes as a silver light flooded the room.

A Patronus. Not a corporeal one, but a shield that would certainly keep Dementors at bay.

A grin broke across Remus' face. Lena had done it.

After about ten seconds, the silver light faded away, and he turned to congratulate his pupil, only to find, to his bewilderment, a trembling Lena staring into the centre of the room, tears streaming down her face. Then a sudden, violent sob forced its way out of her, and she dropped to the floor.

At first, Remus could only stare at Lena, aghast. She was sitting on the floor, hunched over, and crying so much that her whole body shuddered. And the sight was so... wrong. Lena was supposed to be impenetrable. Full of fury, full of bitterness, full of frustration, but unbreakable. But now, she looked utterly broken, and the wrongness of it made Remus want to look anywhere but Lena. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

"Lena?" he said softly, approaching her hesitantly.

In response, she only sobbed, her head bowed.

Remus knelt down next to her. "Lena," he tried again, "what's wrong?"

Still, she didn't reply. Her eyes were shut, and Remus wasn't even sure if she had heard him. She seemed completely overtaken by her distress.

He glanced down. Lena's shaking right hand, the one closest to him, was pressed against the floor. Wanting to comfort her, but not quite knowing how, he reached out and took the hand.

But the moment he did, everything went black. After a few seconds, a light cut through the darkness. Then everything came into focus, and it was like Remus was watching a moving picture.

Two people stood in the centre of a bedroom. One was a tall man in black robes, and opposite him was a little girl.

She couldn't have been any older than six, and was wearing a dark green dress and black tights. Her hair was long, wavy and black, and she was incredibly pale. And she was looking up at the man with her fiercely intelligent blue-grey eyes.

The man had red eyes.

At that moment, the man spoke. "And so another lesson comes to an end."

"Why does it have to?" asked the young Lena, sounding slightly petulant. "Why can't they be longer?"

The man laughed softly, before saying, "Maybe they will be in future. You see, it is quite likely that much will have changed by our lesson next Friday."

"Like what?"

"Let us just say that I believe we are about to enter something of a turning point in this war," said the man mysteriously.

Lena crossed her arms, clearly irritated by his vagueness.

The man evidently saw this, because he shook his head and said, "I promise to tell you more during our next lesson. Who knows, I might see you before that."

Lena's face immediately brightened. "I'd like that," she said quickly. "I, I..." she hesitated, before rushing, "I wish I got to see you every day."

This seemed to amuse the man. "Lessons every day? I dare not, you would probably surpass me by the time you were ten."

"No," said Lena, looking down at the ground. "Not for lessons, I mean..."

The man looked at her curiously

"... Live with you." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"You wish to come live with me?" the man said softly.

Lena finally looked up again, then slowly nodded. "I hate it here." Her voice grew stronger. " I hate living in the same house as her. And you, you're... you're the best part of my week." She took a step towards him. "The best part of my life. I..." The final words spilled out of her as if she could no longer wait to say them: "I wish you were my father."

At first, the man just looked down at her, his expression unreadable. Then he slowly knelt down so he was face to face with the small girl. He reached out one long-fingered hand and took both her small hands in his.

"If you were my daughter, Lena, I would be proud to be your father."

Lena's face broke into an expression of pure, unadulterated joy. A looked that stayed on her face even after the man let go of her hands and exited the room.

She loved him.

Then darkness filled his vision again, and Remus opened his eyes.

He was kneeling next to a still-sobbing Lena, holding her hand. She was hugging her knees to her chest, her whole body trembling. The complete opposite of the young Lena he'd just seen, in what he could only assume was her happiest memory.

Remus dropped her hand and scrambled to his feet. He backed away, not taking his eyes off Lena once.

He felt sick.

'You want to hate him, you really want to, but you just – can't... You know what he's done is unforgiveable, but you owe him. Because he was there for you, when he could have easily turned away like everyone else... You can be angry at him. Be furious. You want to hurt him. You want revenge. But you can't hate him, not ever. Because he was kind.'

All the times Remus had wondered who Lena was talking about, not once had Lord Voldemort crossed his mind.

'Because that would insane,' thought Remus disbelievingly. 'It would be insane to think that Voldemort was ever anything but a monster.'

It would be much easier to believe that this was just another monstrous act of Voldemort, manipulating a young, vulnerable child into liking him, trusting him. But...

Remus had seen his face when he'd told Lena he would be proud to be her father. And he would bet his life that Voldemort had been absolutely telling the truth.

"I thought I'd moved on." Lena's voice was so small, and she didn't look up from her knees when she spoke. "I thought after meeting Riddle in the Chamber that I was free of – of – of those feelings for him." Another sob sent a shudder throughout her. "But I haven't."

Remus didn't know how to even begin to approach this. So instead, after a lengthy pause, he asked, "How did you do that, show me the memory without a Pensieve?"

Lena sniffed. "Occlumency," she choked out. "Or rather, a lack of it."

"I don't–"

"Because I've practised Occlumency since I was five," explained Lena, tears still running down her face, "my mind is very compartmentalised. I never let just one thought occupy all of it. Except just now, to cast the Patronus. And that meant I lost my Occlumency shield, so I was susceptible to your Legilimency."

"But I'm not a Legilimens," said Remus, confused.

For the first time since she'd started crying, Lena looked up at Remus. "No, but you wanted to know what was making me upset, and that was enough," she said, her voice hoarse from her sobs.

Remus blinked, stunned. He had unwittingly performed Legilimency just by touching her? He hadn't been aware that such a thing was possible. But he knew that Lena was far more knowledgeable of the subjects of Legilimency and Occlumency than he was, so he would take her word for it.

Even if he now knew who had taught her all of it.

"That was Voldemort," said Remus tightly.

Lena's bottom lip quivered. "Yes," she whispered.

Remus shook his head slightly in disbelief. "He was, what, your... tutor?"

"My teacher, yes," replied Lena, looking down at her knees again. "For almost two years."

"And he taught you–"

"Occlumency, Legilimency, wandless magic." She gave a little shrug. "Among other things."

As much as Remus wanted to know just what exactly those other things were, there was a more pressing matter. "And that memory–"

"–Was the last time I ever saw him," said Lena. She took a deep breath. "It was the day before he murdered James and Lily Potter."

Remus clenched his fists. "And the one you just used to cast a Patronus." His voice shook in its anger. "The one moment in your life when you were truly happy."

Lena didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then she quietly said, "When he told me he would be proud to be my father, I thought I was going to burst from joy. My heart–" She paused and swallowed, before continuing, "I didn't know it was possible for your heart to feel like that." Her voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears began to run down her face.

But now, Remus hadn't the slightest urge to comfort her. "How?" he asked furiously. "How could you want that – that monster to be your father?"

Lena's head snapped up, and she glared at Remus through her tears. "Because I already had monsters for parents," she shot back. "Why wouldn't I want to exchange them for a monster who was actually nice to me?"

"You seriously believed your parents were worse than Lord Voldemort?" asked Remus, incredulous.

A half-sob, half- laugh burst out of Lena. "You think I cared about how many people they murdered and tortured? I was four, five years old. My whole world was whatever happened in my house. And in there–" She broke off, closing her eyes as her body shivered in silent anguish.

Remus simply stared at her, still unable to conceive how someone could actually care for Voldemort.

When her trembling lessened, Lena opened her eyes, and gazed up at Remus. "Do you really want to know?" she whispered. Slowly, she held both hands in front of her, palms facing upwards.

In response, Remus closed the distance between them, and knelt down in front of her. He looked directly into her tear-filled eyes.

"Yes."

Then he took a deep breath and grasped both her hands with his. Once again, he was thrust into darkness.

13 May, 1981:

The entrance hall of the Lestrange house was dimly lit by a giant chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The natural light from the sun outside could have illuminated it better, but the curtains were always drawn.

The front door was suddenly flung open, and barrelling in came a tall woman, who was dragging a small, shrieking girl by her hair, which was just as black as her mother's.

Bellatrix slammed the door shut behind her, then viciously shoved her daughter forward. Lena slammed into the floor, a small cry of pain escaping her.

"There is one rule," snarled Bellatrix, "just one rule, that I ask you to follow."

Lena, cradling her wrist, attempted to stand up. "I didn't–"

"DO NOT LEAVE THE ESTATE!"

Lena flinched. "I wasn't trying to leave, there was just something on the other side of the gate– OW!" she yelped in pain as Bellatrix roughly grabbed her around the chin, her long nails digging into Lena's cheeks, and pulled her to her feet.

"Don't try to give me excuses," hissed Bellatrix. "You were trying to break the rule and–

"–That wasn't–"

"–DO NOT INTERRUPT ME! You deliberately disobeyed me–"

"–That isn't–"

" –YOU ARE NOT LISTENING TO ME!" screamed Bellatrix, seizing Lena by the hair again and pulling her across the room. "YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME! WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN?!" As she said the final word, she threw Lena against the wall.

Lena crumpled to the ground. She felt her forehead – there was now a gash on the left side. She stared at the blood on the finger pads of one hand. The other hand was limp, the wrist at an odd angle.

There was a flurry of noise from further within the house. Just as Bellatrix had started to pull Lena off the floor, two men burst into the entrance hall. One was tall and swarthy, the other had long, pale blonde hair.

"What in Salazar's name are you doing, Bellatrix?" said Lucius Malfoy, staring at her and Lena.

Rodolphus Lestrange simply folded his arms, and looked inquiringly at his wife.

"She was trying to leave the estate," said Bellatrix angrily.

Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Why on earth would you try to do that?" he asked Lena.

Before Lena could even open her mouth, Bellatrix replied, "Because she is completely incapable of following any instruction, that's why!"

"It's a stupid rule," said Lena quietly.

For a second, the whole entrance hall was so silent that a dropped pin would be audible.

"What did you just say?" said Bellatrix slowly, her grip on her daughter's shoulder tightening.

Lena looked up at her mother defiantly. "I said it's a stupid rule."

The slap across Lena's face was so sudden that it made Lucius jump. Rodolphus blinked, but still said nothing.

The force of the blow knocked Lena to the ground once again. Holding her cheek, she narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix.

Without warning, the coat rack that stood near the front door suddenly took flight, and zoomed towards Bellatrix. She was only half-turned around when it crashed into her. Bellatrix let out a shriek of pain, stumbling back. However, she just managed to maintain her footing. Straightening up, she turned to glare at Lena, a long scratch now across her cheek. Then she drew her wand from the pocket of her robe.

"Bellatrix!" said Lucius sharply, but she paid him no attention.

Lena, who had struggled to her feet by then, turned around and tried to run down the hallway. But with a few steps, Rodolphus blocked her exit. Lena looked up at her father pleadingly. But he remained unmoved.

"Crucio!"

A scream filled the entire Lestrange house, echoing throughout all the halls and rooms.

Lena fell to the ground, twisting and writhing. The last thing she would remember seeing was Lucius rolling up the sleeve of his left forearm.

The memory dissolved to black. But before Remus could open his eyes, a new image started to form.

Lena was lying on her bed in her room. There was no longer a gash on her forehead, nor was there any other sign of visible injury.

Sitting on a chair next to her bed was Lord Voldemort. He was watching Lena, his expression clearly troubled.

Lena's eyes fluttered open. After a few moments, they fixed on Voldemort. At once, she attempted to sit up, only to whimper in pain.

"Don't move," said Voldemort quietly. "Your body needs a little more time to recover."

Lena gave him a tiny nod. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table.

Voldemort followed her gaze. "You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours," he told her. "You passed out around the same time I arrived, which was about two minutes after Lucius alerted me." His eyes flicked back to hers. "I did come as quickly as I could."

"Thank you, sir," croaked Lena, her throat very dry.

"Here," said Voldemort, grabbing a cup of water off the bedside table. Gently, he slid his hand behind Lena's head, raising it slightly. Then he tilted the cup towards her dry lips, and allowed the water to lightly trickle into her mouth. When she'd had enough, he put it back on the table.

"How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?" asked Lena, her voice a little stronger now.

Voldemort looked at her quizzically.

"I mean, sitting here," clarified Lena. "Waiting here."

"Nearly twelve hours."

Lena's eyes widened. "You mean," she swallowed, "you stayed here all that time? With me?"

"Since I finished my... discussion... with your mother and father." Voldemort nodded. "Yes."

At the mention of her parents, Lena tensed. "Discussion?"

Voldemort's expression tightened, and he flexed his fingers, as if they were itching to throttle someone. "Your mother will not use the Cruciatus Curse on you again," he said."She is now aware of the consequences of that action. As is your father."

"What sort of consequences?" asked Lena curiously.

"The sort they will remember."

It was clear that Lena would have liked further elaboration, but she restrained herself. "Good," she said instead.

Voldemort smiled at her. Lena attempted to return it, but a yawn took its place.

"You should get some more sleep," said Voldemort gently. "After all, I need you well-rested for our lesson on Friday afternoon."

Lena nodded tiredly. "Okay." Her eyes were almost closed, when they shot open again. "Erm, are you staying?"

Voldemort tilted his head. "Would you like me to stay?"

"You've already spent half a day here," said Lena reluctantly. "You probably have lots of other important things to do."

"I do," agreed Voldemort. "But would you like me to stay?"

Lena bit her lip. "Yes, please," she whispered.

Voldemort settled back into his chair. "Then I will stay."

This time, as Lena slipped into unconsciousness, there was a small smile on her face. She knew as long as Voldemort was with her, everything would be all right.

Remus opened his eyes, letting go of Lena's hands. He staggered to his feet and turned away from the girl, doubling over. He thought he was going to be sick.

"Fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes.

In his conversations with her over the last few months, Lena had implied there was little love lost between her parents and herself. But the memory he had just witnessed – it was one thing to know that Bellatrix Lestrange happily tortured and murdered Muggles, Muggle-borns, and anyone else who got in her way; it was horrific, but a conceivable horrific. The way she treated her own daughter, on the other hand...

Once he was confident he wasn't going to vomit, Remus straightened and turned back around to Lena. She was sitting cross-legged, her face still wet with tears. She was looking at Remus beseechingly. Like she needed him to understand.

"Why?" asked Remus, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would she do... that to you?"

Lena shrugged helplessly. "Because she hated me. I don't know why. Nobody ever explained why. All I know is that for as long as I can remember, she hated me."

Remus grimaced as the memory continued to play in his mind. "And your father, he just–"

"He never hurt me himself, but he never tried to stop her," said Lena quietly. "If Lucius or Narcissa were there, they sometimes tried to intervene. But only if it was that bad."

Remus' stomach knotted. "So that was a regular occurrence?" he said in a strangled voice. "That kind of–" he swallowed, "–abuse?"

"The Cruciatus Curse?" said Lena. "No. That was the only time. And there was never as much... physical stuff... again. But there were always hexes and jinxes." She paused. "Well, for the next six months, at any rate." She half-smiled, but her eyes were still teary. "Then one day they went out, and the next thing I knew my grandmother was telling me they'd been arrested. That really should have been the best day of my life, but... but I was still too upset over the news that Voldemort was gone." Lena wiped at her tearstained face, then looked curiously at her damp fingers. "So that's what crying is like," she remarked. "I couldn't remember."

Remus had been so horrified by that first memory that he was only struck by a certain peculiarity of it now. Lena hadn't cried once– not even when Bellatrix had been hurting her.

"When was the last time you cried?" he inquired.

Lena sniffed. "I don't know." Then she frowned. "Actually, I have these vague flashes of a memory – my earliest one, I think – from when I was two or three. I was crying, and she wanted me to stop. So she kept sending Stinging Hexes at me until I did. I don't think I ever cried after that."

"Until tonight," said Remus quietly.

"Until tonight," repeated Lena, nodding.

"Why?" asked Remus. "Because the memory was so overpowering?"

"Kind of," said Lena, starting to play with her hair. "But more because I thought I was better than that." A tear started to roll down her cheek. "But I'm not." Her voice cracked, and the single tear was slowly followed by others.

Initially so focused on the first part of the memory, Remus' thoughts were now occupied by the second. "You don't know why your mother hated you," he said slowly, "but do you know why Voldemort was so..." He struggled for the right word.

"Kind?" suggested Lena softly.

Remus' jaw tightened, discomforted by the idea of 'Voldemort' and 'kind' being used in the same sentence.

'But that's what you just saw,' an internal voice reasoned. 'Her own parents tortured her, while Voldemort took care of her.'

"At first, I think he was just interested in how I used accidental magic," continued Lena. "But over time, I think–" She paused, holding back a sob. "I thought he genuinely started to care about me."

"He did." The words came out of Remus' mouth before he realised what he was saying.

Lena looked at him, surprised.

Remus sighed, then sat down next to Lena again. "If your memories are accurate, Lena," he told her, "then he cared for you – as much as it pains me to believe it."

"Then why wouldn't he–" Lena stopped abruptly, biting her lip and looking down at her lap. "See what I mean?" she murmured. "Even knowing everything I know now, I still get upset over the thought that maybe Voldemort didn't really care about me." She looked back up at Remus. "I'm just..." She smiled sadly through her tears. "I'm fucked up," she said simply.

If there were words Remus could have said to provide at least some small comfort to Lena, he didn't know them. So instead, he did the only thing he could.

He held her hand, and sat with the weeping girl until she had no more tears to shed.