Chapter Eleven: Evil Old Men

Wormtail's silver hand shook as he knocked softly on the ancient oak door to Isela's boudoir.

"What is it, Pettigrew?" Professor Balin demanded irritably through the door.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you straight away."

When Balin had finally answered Voldemort's call last night, the Dark Lord's ire at his tardiness melted away when Voldemort laid eyes on the two dementors Balin presented him. Nagini had hissed so pitifully at the creatures, Voldemort had them locked up in a cell. Unfortunately, it was Wormtail's job to 'feed' them. Tonight, he would be forced to leave the sanctuary of the old abbey in search of a couple of unsuspecting souls. In spite of that, Wormtail was in a surprisingly good mood.

For the first time since Balin's homecoming, Wormtail had something to smile about—albeit to himself. Voldemort's delight at his old friend's return had turned into rage this morning.  If things went the way he hoped, Wormtail would once again take his place as Voldemort's right-hand man.

A moment later, Balin opened the door, wearing a simple black robe. The beautiful Isela was sitting up in bed. She had the sheet pulled up to cover her front, but her back was exposed. Wormtail gasp when he saw that her back was covered with deep scratches, bruises and bites. By her expression as she watched Balin, Isela didn't seem to mind the rough treatment—in fact, she was positively glowing. How could she want him? He's an old man! Balin was also tall, distinguished and still had all of his hair. Just three more reasons for Wormtail to hate his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Balin sneered. "Lead the way, Worm."

Wormtail sighed, but remained silent. As he led Balin down the narrow spiral stone staircase to the dungeon and Voldemort's audience chamber, he just hoped that whatever punishment the Dark Lord meted out would be especially painful.

Balin followed Wormtail in and bowed his head. "The rodent said you wanted to see me, My Lord."

Voldemort was sitting in his sumptuous throne-like chair with Nagini slithering in a figure eight around him. The Dark Lord's jaw was clinched and he was tapping his long, pale finger impatiently on the arm of his chair. He held a copy of the Daily Prophet tightly in his other hand. A small stack of Muggle newspapers lay on the stone table next to him along with a cold cup of tea.

Wormtail stood to the side, daring to let a small smile of satisfaction cross his lips.

"Did you sleep well, Rupert?" Voldemort asked petulantly.

Balin hesitated. "Quite well, thank you, My Lord."

"Really?" Voldemort snapped. "I would have thought that your concubine's incessant screaming would have kept you up. I enjoy screaming as much as the next Dark wizard, but not when I'm trying to sleep."

"I am truly sorry, My Lord. It won't happen again."

"Good. There's one more thing that best not happen again." Voldemort held up the copy of the Daily Prophet and displayed the headline: '223 MUGGLES KILLED IN TUBE STATION FIRE. WORST ATTACK YET!' "You told me that you had 'a little fun' with some Muggles before you finally decided to answer my summons. This isn't 'a little fun', this is a massacre!"

"I thought you'd be pleased," Balin replied calmly. Wormtail noted that a few beads of perspiration had broken out on Balin's forehead.

"You thought I'd be pleased, did you?" Voldemort proceeded to read the front-page article: "'Yesterday's attack by Azkaban fugitive, Rupert Balin and the two dementors under his control, is unprecedented in wizarding history for its violence and savagery. Ministry sources were quoted as saying that Balin is close to replacing You-Know-Who as the most dangerous Dark wizard of recent times…'" Voldemort furiously crumpled the paper into a little ball. He drew his wand and threw the paper up in the air. "INCENDIO!" The paper caught fire and fell to the ground at Balin's feet. Voldemort then rose slowly and stood facing his old friend, almost nose to nose. "Upstage me again, Rupert, and you will discover just which one of us is the most dangerous Dark wizard alive."

Wormtail waited for Voldemort to at least put the Cruciatus Curse on his old professor, but Balin just took a step back and bowed low. When he rose, Voldemort flashed a snaky grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "No hard feelings, old friend." Balin smiled in return, but there was undisguised distrust at his Master's words in his soulless blue eyes.

"That's not fair!" Wormtail whispered in indignation.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort barked.

Wormtail rushed to his Master's side and bowed obsequiously. "Yes, My Lord?"

"Get us some tea—stronger this time—and some of those lovely blackberry scones with clotted cream. Oh yes, and get a chair for my old friend." Voldemort picked up the copy of the Muggle Observer and turned back to Balin. "I have to admit I am pleased with the Muggle reaction. Their government is trying to pass it off as some sort of freak explosion, but several Muggles who managed to escape actually saw the dementors and were able to tell their story before the Magical Reversal Squad got their hands on them. The International Code of Wizarding Secrecy has been breached. Well done, Rupert."

Balin grinned widely. "Thank you, my Lord."

Wormtail fumed as he glared at the two men.

It was Balin, not Voldemort, who finally turned to him, "What are you waiting for, Pettigrew? Run along now." Then to Voldemort, "That boy was always a half-wit, how can you abide him?"

As he left the chamber to get the tea and scones, Wormtail heard Voldemort declare contemptuously, "He has his uses."

*

Veronica looked tired, but more relaxed than Severus had seen her since Balin's escape. It didn't make sense, given the dream she had had last night. He learned, along with the rest of the school, of Balin's attack on the Muggle Underground station from the Daily Prophet. Veronica had not told him until they had left the Great Hall after breakfast that she had experienced the attack first-hand in a dream.

"Why didn't you wake me?" In his exasperation, Severus slammed the door to Veronica's office harder than he had intended.

Veronica jumped at the noise, but seemed strangely self-possessed. Even though she wasn't wearing any makeup today, she had on her blue robe (Severus had been secretly fearful that she would revert back to those horrid yellow rags) and her hair was plaited and pinned up making her look as pretty as she had last night at her parents' house.

"There didn't seem to be any point. I knew it had already happened. Besides, I thought you deserved a rest after my mother's pumpkin cakes," she added with a smile. "I did report it to Dumbledore as soon as I woke up."

Severus hoped this meant she was attempting to make peace with the old wizard, but didn't think now was the time to ask about that. "I wonder if Voldemort ordered this attack or if Balin acted on his own?"

"Dumbledore asked me that, too. I got the feeling Balin was acting on his own. It was as if since he escaped, there had been this tremendous pressure building up inside of him that was suddenly released with the attack. I think he'll go back to Voldemort now."

Severus silently wondered what Voldemort's response to Balin's actions would be, but said, "You seem rather calm about it."

"I know. It's strange, but I actually feel better—not for all those poor people, of course…"

He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "So what does Dumbledore think of this—bond you seem to have with Balin?"

Veronica sighed. "We didn't really discuss it. He just asked that I report any more dreams I have to him." She paused, then rose from behind her desk and walked over to where he was standing. She put her hand on his arm and gently squeezed it. "Severus, you have nothing to worry about."

"Worried? Why would I be worried?" Severus dropped his arms to his sides and attempted to casually stroll over to a shelf piled high with old issues of the Journal of Magic and the illicit, Dark Wizards Quarterly. Peeking out from under the magical journals was a copy of Witch Weekly which Severus pulled out. On the cover was handsome wizard with a blinding white smile named Reginald Ridefort. "You actually read this?"

"When I want to turn off my brain. I thought I had thrown that one away."

Veronica went to take the magazine from him, but Severus held onto it tightly. He was suddenly mesmerized, not by Reggie's bright smile, but by the words just to the right of his picture: 'You Too Can Have a Charming Smile (Though Not Quite as Charming as Mine)!' Severus tore his eyes away from the magazine and found Veronica grinning at him, obviously trying not to giggle.

"I think you look fine, but in case you're interested, he uses Sparkledent Toothpaste."

He glowered at her. "First Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, now Sparkledent Toothpaste. Tell me, Veronica, are there any other personal care items I should know about?"

"Not that I can think of off hand," she replied as a few snickers escaped from her lips. "I'd say we could pop over to Hogsmeade to pick up some, but the Apothecary is closed on Sunday."

Severus glanced at Reggie again, who was now turning his head slightly so that his teeth could catch the overcast sunlight streaming into her office. Though Severus could never see himself smiling like this ridiculous fool, it would indeed be a relief if his teeth—now yellowed and uneven—would cease to be a source of whispered insults from his students and other staff members, as his oily hair had been. "The Apothecary in Hogsmeade might be closed today, but the one in Diagon Alley isn't—if you're up to it."

Veronica nodded. "I'll get my cloak."

*

As soon as they entered Diagon Alley, Veronica asked if they could first stop at Gringotts as she didn't have even a Knut on her. "I want to go to Borgin and Burkes for the new issue of Dark Wizards Quarterly."

As she went to present her key to one of the bank's goblins, Severus stayed her hand and presented his own key. She tried to protest, but he ignored her. Oh well, it's just a magazine—and I'll pay him back for it whether he wants me to or not.

The goblin examined the key carefully. "Pobel!" Another goblin, indistinguishable from his fellow, quickly joined them. "Take them to vault five hundred and seventy-five."

Pobel nodded briskly, then led Veronica and Severus to the cart that would take them deep inside the wizard bank. Seeing the meager contents of her own vault was always a bit depressing for Veronica, so she found that the twisting, winding trip downward was usually the best part of her visits to Gringotts. She could tell by the look on Severus' face that it was definitely not his favorite part. In fact, he was gripping the edge of the cart so firmly that his knuckles were white.

The cart jerked to a stop in front of vault five hundred and seventy-five. Pobel climbed out, followed by Severus who then helped Veronica to her feet. The goblin unlocked the door. When the puff of smoke cleared, Veronica's loud gasp was followed by several moments of incoherent sputtering as she caught her first glimpse of the contents of his vault. She had never seen so much gold in her life.

One corner of Severus' mouth curled up. He was clearly pleased by her reaction. "I told you my parents were wealthy."

"Yes, but you didn't say you were!" 

"Can we get on with it, please," snapped the goblin.

Severus gathered up several handfuls of gold and put them into a leather pouch.

"We're just buying toothpaste and a magazine," Veronica reminded him with a warning tone.

Severus tucked the pouch into his robe pocket. "I thought I'd splurge and buy a new toothbrush, as well."

They left the bank, made a brief stop in seedy Knockturn Alley for Veronica's magazine, then returned to Diagon Alley and made their way toward the Apothecary. Veronica suspected that the reason Severus had grabbed all that gold was because he had wanted to spend at least some of it on her. She made sure she kept her eyes pointed straight ahead, not daring to glance in any of the shop windows for fear he'd insist on buying something else for her.

Veronica managed to avert her gaze from all that Diagon Alley had to offer, that is until they passed Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Her eyes were caught by a beautiful light gray cloak with a silver clasp in the shape of a dragon, hanging in the shop's window. Her eyes had strayed only for a second, but that was enough for Severus. He gently took her arm and made her stop in front of the window.

She was careful to keep her eyes on him. "Do you mind if we stop for some lunch and a pint at the Leaky Cauldron after we visit the Apothecary?"

Severus glanced at the cloak in the window and turned back to her. "You can have anything you like."

The words and the way he uttered them with that deep, sonorous voice of his sent a pleasant chill down Veronica's spine, but she couldn't take advantage of his offer. A magazine and a meal was one thing, but an expensive cloak was quite another. "Well, then make that a pint and a shot of Firewhiskey."

"I meant the cloak."

"I know. I was trying to distract you. The one I have is fine, but thank you." She took his hand and attempted to pull him in the direction of the Apothecary, but he didn't budge. With his other hand he touched the frayed edge of her cloak and stuck his finger through a moth hole in the fabric.

Veronica snatched it away sheepishly. "I was going to fix that."

With an affectionate sneer, Severus sighed. "Why is it that you'll try my patience almost beyond endurance, but you won't allow me the simple pleasure of buying you a gift? Consider it an early birthday present—I know it's coming up next month."

"And how do you know that?"

"You're mother told me when she gave me those pumpkin cakes."

She silently cursed her mother, but acquiesced. Of course, once Veronica had tried on the cloak, Severus decided that she also needed another robe because, "If something ever happened to this one, you'd be forced to wear that yellow monstrosity again." When she protested, he threatened to have ten new robes delivered to her by owl post on her birthday. She finally ended up with the cloak, a gorgeous maroon silk robe, and a pair of pointed black shoes with lovely silver buckles. She decided to wear her new finery and donate her old cloak to the second-hand robe shop, so Madam Malkin's assistant wrapped up her blue robe and her old shoes in pink boxes tied with black ribbon.

Veronica stood in front of the shop's mirror shyly admiring herself. The mirror was making embarrassing cooing sounds and showering her with compliments that were probably so oft repeated that they sounded insincere. Severus crept up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. His reflection was so stern—almost harsh—but his gentle words belied it. "This is what you deserve."

"Snape," said a voice behind them that sounded distressingly familiar, "what a surprise meeting you here."

Severus and Veronica spun around and were confronted not only by the arrogant Lucius Malfoy, but also by a blonde woman hanging on his arm—attractive except for the fact that her pert nose seemed to be stuck in a permanent wrinkle. Great goddess, there's two of them?!

"Malfoy," Severus said curtly, inclining his head slightly.

"Severus, how long has it been?" The blonde woman let go of Malfoy's arm and regally held out her porcelain-smooth hand. Severus took her hand and kissed it awkwardly.

"Five years, at least, Narcissa," Severus replied.

Narcissa, presumably Malfoy's wife, once again latched onto her husband and gave Veronica a patronizing smile. "Who's your little friend?"

Severus only reluctantly introduced the two women. Judging by Narcissa's reaction, she was well aware of Veronica's identity even before Severus' brusque introduction.

Narcissa unwrinkled her nose as she let out a light, twinkling laugh. "Dear Severus, your manners were always so delightfully atrocious." She crinkled her nose again and looked down it at Veronica. "Despite your refined upbringing."

Veronica opened her mouth to respond, but Severus chucked her under the chin. "Be a good girl and go pick out some pretty lingerie," he leered. "You know what I like."

Veronica gave him a dazzling smile, but shot daggers at him with her eyes. "Anything for you, my darling."

Malfoy whispered something to Narcissa, then she followed Veronica to the lingerie table. Veronica had never bought lingerie in her life and was a little discomfited by the frilly lace knickers on display. She looked over her shoulder and saw Severus and Malfoy speaking in civil, low tones. As a lark, Veronica tried to imagine what exactly Severus would like and picked up a black satin corset, obviously meant for a woman with a much fuller figure than her own.

Narcissa made a few dainty, disapproving noises behind her back. "He'll never marry you."

"Really?" Veronica replied in a bored tone. Marriage?! Who said anything about marriage?

"I'm only telling you this for your own good. Severus is from one of the oldest and most noble wizarding families, you can't seriously believe he'll allow himself to be saddled with the daughter of a—" Narcissa paused, adding extra venom to her next words, "rubbish peddler."

Veronica slammed the corset down on the table angrily. "You can say anything you like about me, Mrs. Malfoy, but don't you dare insult my dad."

"Hardly an insult, dear, merely a statement of fact," Narcissa replied scornfully. "Oversensitivity is so typical of the lower classes. Take my advice and keep to your own kind."

When no pithy retort was forthcoming, Narcissa sauntered back over to where Severus and Malfoy were standing. Veronica watched Narcissa touch Severus' cheek with disturbing familiarity, then exit the shop with her husband.

Severus collected Veronica's packages and met her at the lingerie table. "Don't let anything that hateful bitch said bother you."

"Did you know her well?" she asked with a touch of anxiety in her voice.

"Come along, Veronica. After we visit the Apothecary we'll have lunch and then we can talk."

Severus had Veronica buy his Sparkledent Toothpaste and toothbrush as well as a few bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, then the pair made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Severus requested  a private parlor, but only after Tom the innkeeper served their drinks and food did Severus finally answer her question.

"I used to know Narcissa very well—so did many other Death Eaters."

"What do you mean?" After she asked the question, Veronica wasn't quite sure she wanted to know the answer.

Severus got a faraway look in his black eyes, but whatever memories he was reliving didn't appear to be pleasant ones. "In the old days, a group of young and mostly aristocratic young women used to make themselves…available to us, particularly after raids."

Veronica raised an eyebrow. "The Death Eaters Women's Auxiliary?"

Severus snorted. "More like a bunch of upper class camp followers. They were drawn to the power—the Darkness, and in Narcissa's case, the money and family connections. Malfoy's lineage is no more distinguished than my own, but his Gringotts vault was much fuller."

Veronica felt her cheeks burn. "You actually considered marrying her?"

Severus broke out in a sly half smile. "Are you jealous?"

She pouted and nodded grudgingly. "Did you love her?"

He shook his head. "It would be impossible to love anything that cold."

Veronica heaved a sigh of relief. Severus took a sip of his ale and motioned for her to move to his side of the table. When she settled next to him on the wooden bench, he took her hands in his. "May I kiss you?"

She was so touched by his asking her permission, that all she could do was nod. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips. Then Severus whispered something in her ear so tenderly it made Veronica weep:

"I love you."

*

Harry was quietly apprehensive all during classes on the Monday after Balin's attack on the Piccadilly Circus Tube Station. Ron and Hermione had tried to be reassuring, but what Harry really needed was information. He doubted Professor Stanley would be any more obliging than she had been last week, so he didn't even bother asking her again. He knew it was because she was in a lot of pain, but Harry couldn't help being a bit cross with her. She had told her students more than once that she would always be there for them, but when Harry really needed her, she had become as politely unhelpful in such matters as his other professors were.

It was quite a surprise when, after his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Stanley asked him to come to her office after classes. She even had tea and cakes for him when he arrived. He accepted a cup of tea, but he didn't feel at all hungry, so he left the cakes untouched.

She folded her hands on her desk and met his eyes. "Harry, I owe you an apology. I was so wrapped up in my own troubles that I forgot that my primary concern should be for my students' welfare."

Harry suddenly felt a bit guilty for being angry with her. "That's all right, Professor."

"Ask me anything you like," she said earnestly. "I'll answer your questions as best I can."

It took Harry only a second to recall the question that had been haunting him the most. "How did Balin get the dementors to help him escape? Two years ago, the Ministry sent dementors to Hogwarts. I could hardly—" he almost said, 'keep from fainting around them', but stopped himself.

Stanley took a deep breath. "Balin is third most powerful wizard alive; only Dumbledore and Voldemort are more powerful, but what makes him…special, is that he doesn't have a soul. That's how he's able to be around the dementors without being affected by them, and bend them to his will."

"No soul? You mean, he suffered the Dementor's Kiss?"

"No, Harry. I mean he was born without one."

Harry put down his teacup and tried to absorb what Stanley had just told him. "But how can a person survive without a soul?"

She shrugged. "No one knows exactly. Fortunately, it's a very rare occurrence. When it does happen, the results are usually disastrous. You were raised by Muggles, weren't you?"

For a moment, Harry wondered if she was going to tell him that the Dursleys had been born without souls. He nodded.

"Well then, you may have heard of Adolph Hitler, Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, Andrei Chikatilo, Charles Manson—any of those names sound familiar?"

"You just listed the most horrible murderers in Muggle history." He started to shiver a little when he thought of how much worse, as a wizard, Balin must be compared to them.

"They acted the way they did because they were all born without souls." Professor Stanley turned, pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to him.

Harry read the cover: The Soulless Ones by Veronica Stanley. "You wrote this! I didn't know you wrote a book."

She gave him a wry smile. "Considering how poorly it sold, that's hardly surprising. Basically, the theory I put forth in the book is that even though they were born without souls, they're still human beings and like other humans, they have a need to connect with others of their kind. Because they are soulless, they can't connect in the same way you or I would—through friendship or love."

"How do they connect?"

"Generally, in one of two ways. The first is through the worst sort of violence; the second, well, uh—" She nervously pointed to her book. "Chapter Four."

Harry flipped to the table of contents and silently read the title of Chapter Four: The Sexual Connection. His face suddenly felt hot, partly due to discomfort and partly due to anger. "That's what he did to you," he said quietly.

Professor Stanley lowered her head. "A little bit of both actually."

As much as Harry wanted to comfort her, he had to know more. "He wouldn't…to me—would he? I mean, I'm a boy."

She took his hand, tears welling up in her eyes. "We won't let anything happen to you, Harry. There are ten Aurors guarding the school. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Professor Snape and myself—we're all looking after you."

Harry knew they would never let anything happen to him, but Voldemort had always found a way to get to him in the past. "You said Balin was the third most powerful wizard alive. Do you think that he and Voldemort together could beat Dumbledore?"

Stanley let out an unhappy sigh. "Very likely."

Harry felt a great lump settle in the pit of his stomach. "That's what I was afraid of."

*

Severus was in the middle of his double Potions class with the third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws when he felt the burning in his left arm. Why is he calling me now? Voldemort knew Severus couldn't leave during a class if he hoped to maintain his (as far as Voldemort was concerned) respectable façade.

He ignored the summons for the time being, not letting the excruciating pain of his burning Mark show on his face. As soon as he dismissed his last class, Severus gathered up the vials of poison he had made for Voldemort and rushed toward the main gate. He left his mask behind, hoping that he had been called only to deliver the poison, and not for a gathering of all the Dark Lord's followers. Severus steeled himself for the possibility that Balin would be there as well. He most definitely could not afford to reveal his personal feelings in that man's presence.

When Severus arrived at the main gate, the Auror on duty eyed him suspiciously. "You certainly do come and go a lot, don't you?" He was the same man who had been on duty the previous weekend when he and Veronica had left Hogwarts twice in as many days.

Severus scowled. "In case you have forgotten, I am a Hogwarts professor. I will continue to come and go as I please without being subjected to your—observations."

The Auror let him pass, but with a look that made Severus suspect that Minister Wilmont had spread the word about his Dark Mark. He had told the Auror that he was going to Hogsmeade, but once he reached a clump of trees, he allowed himself to Disapparate. Even though he had expected it, Severus was still shocked to see Balin sitting next to Voldemort when he Apparated inside the Dark Lord's audience chamber.

Balin rose, a broad grin on his face. "Severus! How are you my boy?" He took Severus' hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

Balin looked older and grayer, but amazingly well considering that he'd spent the last twenty years in Azkaban. "It's good to see you again, sir. I was gratified to read of your—early release," Severus said with an evil grin. "Not to mention your entertaining escapade in the London Underground."

Balin shrugged modestly, but Severus couldn't help noticing the unpleasant grimace that suddenly crossed Voldemort's pale face.

"Voldemort tells me you're teaching Potions at Hogwarts now," Balin said, settling himself back in his chair.

"I'm also Slytherin Head of House," Severus added.

"Hogwarts," Balin sighed nostalgically. "I do miss the old place. So what dunderhead has Dumbledore hired to replace me as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Actually, since you…retired, we haven't managed to keep anyone for long," Severus told him. "We've gone through a dozen at least."

Balin smiled. "Don't tell me you're looking for a new one?"

"I'm afraid the position is currently occupied—by a woman, no less." There was no point in lying or being evasive; besides, Severus needed to know just how interested Balin was in Veronica.

"Not one of my Slytherin girls following in my footsteps?"

Without missing a beat, Severus replied, "No, a Hufflepuff."

Severus watched Balin's reaction, careful not to show any himself. A look of lascivious excitement came over the older man's face. "Not Veronica Stanley?"

Severus nodded. "The very same. I'm surprised you remember her."

Balin laughed with delight. "Yes, she was rather nondescript, but she provided me with hours of amusement."

Severus made certain his features—especially his eyes—remained impassive, but it was all he could do not to strangle the bastard with his bare hands.

Voldemort's pale brow furrowed in concentration. "Stanley…that's the second time I've heard that woman's name. Malfoy had requested that she be one of the ones exterminated on Christmas Night—something about her making a fool of him in public and causing his son to be an object of ridicule at Hogwarts. Of course, I told him to settle his own grudges and refused to listen further." He sighed impatiently. "I'm sure the two of you could stroll down memory lane for hours, but I have more important business to attend to. Where's my poison?"

Severus handed him a leather bag with a dozen small vials of the flesh-eating poison. He bowed and was just about to leave when Voldemort stopped him.

"Severus, have you done something to yourself?"

"My Lord?"

"I thought I'd noticed it before," Voldemort said, gesturing with a long, spidery finger. "You've done something to your hair—and your teeth."

"Just a new hair potion and toothpaste," Severus replied uncomfortably.

"Why the sudden change?" The Dark Lord gave him a sly, snaky smile. "A young lady perhaps?"

Severus grunted noncommittally.

Thankfully, Voldemort quickly lost interest in the matter and waved him away.

*

The flicker in Snape's eyes had lasted only for a second, but it was there long enough for Balin to see it.

Of all Balin's students in the Dark Arts, Severus had always been the best at masking his emotions even from his old professor. Balin had suspected that Severus was plagued by a streak of conscience when he sometimes hesitated before a kill, but Balin never saw it in his eyes. But when Voldemort casually mentioned Malfoy's request to have Veronica killed, Balin saw the alarm, the rage—quickly veiled, but not quickly enough. Could it be that this 'young lady' Severus had primped himself for was Veronica Stanley? If the implications were not so serious, Balin would have laughed out loud. "My Lord, do you trust Snape?"

Voldemort fixed his red eyes on him. "Is there some reason why I shouldn't?"

"Perhaps. I am curious to know what else Malfoy has to say about—" Balin chuckled, "Professor Stanley."

"Very well," Voldemort replied. "Your arm, Rupert."

Balin pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark. Voldemort pressed his pale forefinger into Balin's Mark and called Lucius Malfoy to his side

***