Chapter 2

Once Tom was inside the manor, he called out to the house elves, commanding that a large fire be lit in his room, and that they bring him some healing potions. The cat in his arm was probably some kind of magical creature, or perhaps had been caught in a backlash of magic. Anyway, the thing was obviously hurt, or scared stiff, because all it did was shake in his arms.

Despite his status as the most feared wizard in England, Tom had always had a soft spot for cats, having picked them off the roadside, healed them, and then sent them on their way. He knew it wasn't going to help anyone, and it wasn't going to help his image, but he couldn't help it. Grumbling under his breath, he took the cat to his bedroom, and deposited it on the bed.

He summoned a towel to dry it, seeing as when he used a drying charm, most cats freaked out. He gently pulled the cat onto his lap, and set about gently drying the poor thing, who was still shaking. Once he'd finished, he cast a diagnosis charm on the cat. It was slightly underweight, exhausted, and showed signs of magic. Frowning, he cast a stronger charm, and was shocked to discover that the cat had been subjected to a cruciatus curse. Angrily, he summoned a house elf, and demanded a calming potion and sleeping draught be brought immediately. He felt the cat flinch as the elf apparated out. The two bottles appeared on the bed next to him, and he decided to go with the calming draught.

He dipped his finger inside, and held it out to the cat, but the damn thing refused. He gently turned the cat around so it was facing him, and waved his finger in front of it's face to catch it's attention. The then slowly put his finger in his mouth, licking off the small amount of calming draught. He then dipped his finger again into the bottle, and this time, the cat accepted the potion. A few seconds later, the cat had stopped shaking. He then moved onto the sleeping potion, and it wasn't long before the cat had collapsed in his lap.

Shaking his head (the calming draught had worked quite well on him) he turned the cat over to check its gender.

A female. He sighed, and hoped that she wasn't pregnant. That had happened once with disastrous results. Just before a raid, the kittens and their mother had gotten out, and had managed to turn his death eaters into piles of mush as they romped around the place. He'd actually had to cancel the raid.

Sighing, he put the cat onto his pillow, and added a mild heating charm so it would stay warm, before we went off to find his book again. He decided to read in his room, in case the cat woke up early.

Esmeralda saw someone approaching in the rain, and yowled a couple of times to alert them to her presence. Finally, they came close enough for her to see their face, and she almost keeled over. Almost. All she had done was let out a pathetic sounding meow of terror at the sight of her parents murderer, before he started to wade into the pond. She wondered vaguely if she should make a break for it, but the thought was smothered when he came close enough for her to jump onto him. And jump she did, automatically latching his claws onto his shirt. She felt his arms go around her, and she allowed herself to sink into the warmth of his body. She buried her face in his shirt, and allowed him to take her away. After all, he couldn't know she was Esmeralda Potter.

He carried her into the manor, and she heard him shouting for house elves.

'what on earth does he need healing brews for?' she wondered, and if she had been less exhausted, she would have realised that they were for her.

Finally, he put her down, and she looked around to find herself on a large bed. A large, soft, squishy bed to be precise, and she had the feeling of being tiny and insignificant compared to the huge plush expanse of the bed. She felt hands grabbing her, and she was placed on his lap. Before she could wriggle away, she found herself covered by something. She felt herself being shaken, and soon realised she was being towelled dry. She settled herself down, and allowed him to finish, feeling bemused at the surrealism of it all.

Finally, he stopped drying her, and she sat there, her body not responding due to the lingering shock of Crabbe's curse. She supposed it had a stronger effect due to her reduced body size. She felt a light buzz pass over her, and she recognised it as a diagnosis spell. Madame Pomfrey had certainly cast enough of those on her. She looked up to see Voldemort frowning, before waving his wand over her again. This time, she felt a stronger buzz, before he started to yell. Instinctively, she curled up, expecting a hex to hit her. She heard a resounding crack, similar to apparition, and she flinched, unsure of what to expect.

Esmeralda soon felt two hands pick her up, and in front of her, she saw a finger coated in what she recognised as a potion. She refused, unsure if he was trying to poison her or not. She heard him sigh, and she turned around. He waved his finger in front of her face, and she immediately focused on it. She watched as he licked the potion off his own finger, before offering her some more. This time, she accepted the potion, feeling resigned. She soon felt the tremors in her body stop, and she started to relax.

She heard a rumbling noise, and realised with a start that she was purring. The action had caught her off guard many times, and this was another one of those times. She watched lazily as he opened the other bottle that was lying on the bed next to him, before he started to feed the potion inside to her. She realized that it was a sleeping draught, and accepted it calmly, feeling exhausted. Before long, her eyes drifted shut, and she fell to the darkness that was dancing around the edges of her vision.