La Symphonie d'Amour

by Demeter1

Severus Snape. Remus Lupin. A return to Hogwarts. Spells a disastrous combination filled with mishaps, insults, memories, deaths, the ultimate battle between good and evil, and perhaps, a renewed relationship that once had been lost. Part Four.

4. Bamboo and Butterflies

La Symphonie d'Amour

Demeter

Part 4: Bamboo and Butterflies

Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are trademarks and property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books and associated parties. The author claims no legal responsibility for problems associated with using this work. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The original story and characters and relationships within the fic belong to Demeter.

Warnings: Slash. This part deals with something rather squicky (in my opinion). Beware.

Dedication: For my fellow Slytherin-fans out there

~*~*~*~*~*~

A minute dust spread, barely allowing a whisper of powder to drift slowly to the liquid, dotting the bubbling surface that seemed to be made of pure liquid sapphires. Within a breath, hardly even a reaction, the liquid washed clean, and bled to silver, the color of the pale moonlight.

Wolfsbane Potion.

The one creation that could prevent a werewolf from succumbing to its baser bloodlust, the one blend of herbs, poisons, liquids, and animal parts that any self-respecting beast would give a vital limb to take each month.

And Severus Snape was one of the few Potions Masters who had the ability of concocting such a draught. He was gifted beyond imagination, beyond words in the fine art of potions making.

Which was why he was brewing another batch in the middle of the night, when he should have been attempting to get some much-needed sleep. Snorting, Snape started methodically storing the potion into smaller cauldrons and magically casting tiny fires below each one to keep it at a low, constant boil.

When everything finally was in order (never seemed, because it was vitally important for it to always be and was) he allowed himself to rest in a high-backed chair. Surveying the draught with an impassive air, he brooded on the fact that he was still making the potion when he had the right, the absolute right, to refuse to do anything for the man – no, make that animal – who had tried to maul him to death as a student.

A bitter bark escaped his lips before he could control the involuntary shudder that ripped through the core of his being. There were times he could still feel the fetid breath of the werewolf as it's jaws snapped shut at the space where his leg had been moments before. Sometimes at a full moon, he would jerk awake, sweat streaming off his body as his nights dreamt darkly of flashing teeth, terrible growls, and the deadening realization that the werewolf had been no one other then Remus Lupin.

James Potter had saved him that day.

Even if there were times Snape cursed the boy, the younger version of all Potters, for damning him to a life full of regret and pain. He had come back only to join the darkness… and then have Dumbledore save him again. Only this time, the debt would never be repaid. The long road yawned before him, and he wished at times, irrationally, that people would ask him whether he wanted to drink from the blood of innocents.

Standing up abruptly, he snatched a tall decanter of well-aged brandy and a heavy goblet, fully intent on getting drunk. He was done for the day; why not spend the rest of the night in a self-induced stupor?

With almost a melancholy air, he settled into his armchair, eyes resting on the crackling fire. After that little meeting between him and Black, Arabella had insisted on brewing him a batch of herbal tea, disregarding the fact that he was vehemently denying the need for it. Once again, that elicited a lecture about taking care of himself and 'try not kill yourself in the process'.

In the end, she had returned to her own quarters, after eliciting stern promises for as much rest as he could get.

Which, by the looks of it, would be another sleepless night.

The meeting hadn't revealed the worst of the situation. People were quietly dying left and right. Their deaths were usually heralded as gruesome accidents, but Snape knew. He knew better then anyone that everything was starting again. The same events that eventually dragged to climatic final at Godric's Hollow.

And as much as he loathed James Potter, he didn't want a similar situation to occur again. Didn't want another scenario that would cause confusion, pain, hatred, and ultimately, tears for Albus Dumbledore and Arabella Figg. He would have gladly seen Sirius Black to Azkaban, and he would have laughed, if not for the fact that Dumbledore would grieve.

Cursing below his breath, he gazed absently into the crackling fire, thoughts growing morbid with fantasies of seeing Sirius Black hanging by his thumbs on a rack, stretched out in all his naked glory…

At first, the hesitant knocking sounded like all the rest of the noises an old castle would produce, so he automatically dismissed it. After all, not too many potential assassins knocked before entering their prey's chambers. When the sounds became more insistent, he looked up in irritation, rather annoyed that he had to be torn from his beloved alcohol.

Stalking toward the door, he flung it open to find, to his disgust, a sickeningly cheery Remus Lupin smiling up at him. With the sigh of one who has been pushed to the end of his rope, he asked, "What is it you want, Lupin?"

"Ah, nothing but for want of a chat. And I also need another dose."

With a soft oath that sounded suspiciously like a half-uttered hex, Snape scooped up an empty cup and ladled some of the steaming potion into it. The liquid sploshed against the sides, but with the practice of someone who spends most of his days with water-based concoctions, he managed to shove it rudely at Remus without spilling a single drop.

Remus handled the goblet with care, his eyes crinkling up as the nauseating smell penetrated his sensitive nose glands. Inhaling, he swallowed the entire draught with a hastiness that brought an involuntary smile to Snape's face. Turning away to hide the smirk, he busied himself with pouring another glass of brandy for Remus. It was only polite after all.

Remus was still coughing slightly in the aftermath, but already, the color was returning to his face, and the redness did him a world of good, as the sickening warmth swept from his throat to his stomach, and burned his inner organs with fiery heat that left him slightly shaky on his legs.

Firm hands pushed him down into the nearest chair, and for once, Remus was glad for the professional way Snape treated him lately. It was helpful to have a Potions Master who had the skills to even make the draught, but he was insanely lucky that the man was pragmatic with his 'patients'. 

"Ah… thank you, Severus." With a small smile, he settled himself comfortably into his chair, accepting the stiffly offered brandy with a grateful gleam in his eyes. Sipping the burning liquid, he carefully watched Snape from the corner of his eyes.

The man was moving gracefully around the room, cleaning up his latest encounter with the Wolfsbane Potion. Intermittently, he would take a sip of his brandy, but otherwise, Remus could only watch his impassive face with heaviness in his chest and with a slightly nauseating guilt in his stomach.

"Lupin, is there anything else you require?" Snape asked, his voice most assuredly disinterested.

You, Remus wanted to shout, but he swallowed the word and with a shake of his head, he said, "I was feeling slightly restless, and I had figured that you would have my potion done. I… was hoping we could talk a little."

"About what?"

Remus paused. He hadn't expected that Snape would actually be patient enough to want to know the topic of discussion. "Er… I was hoping… you could tell me… about your life."

The words had come out almost absently, and he didn't realize the grave mistake he had made until Snape spun on him from his curiously frozen self and snarled, "You, of all people, should know about my life." With that spat out, he viciously turned away.

"I- oh- I didn't mean that. It came out all wrong. I mean, I wanted to know what you did in the past couple of years since I… ah… left Hogwarts." Remus conveniently left out the little part where he had been forced to leave since a certain someone had revealed to everyone that he was a werewolf.

Snape didn't answer, but with an irritable wave of his hand, he said, "What do you think? I've been teaching these imbecile children from the time their snotty eleven years olds, watching their hormonal antics when they hit adolescence, and then watching them go off one by one to die."

There was a poignant pause.

"Severus… not all the Slytherins who leave this school dies." He tried to be as gentle and non-confrontational as he could, but Snape was in a foul mood.

A very foul one.

"No?" Marching over to his desk, he snatched a piece of parchment from it and thrust the length at Remus.

Remus took it with cautious hands, and scanning over the paper, his eyes widened. From what he could deduce, these were all names from Slytherin house. Children who had already graduated. Children who were adults now. His brows furrowing, he looked up at Snape and asked, 'Severus… what is this?"

"Every student." Snape sounded distant now, his dark eyes staring into a place apparently only he could see.

"Every student?"

"Every one of my students. All Slytherins."

Remus studied the names again. He recognized a few, such as Marcus Flint from his teaching stint at Hogwarts, but most, if not all, were complete enigmas. "Where are they now?"

"In hell."

There was an involuntary gasp before Remus could control himself. "What? Severus?"

"These are the ones I couldn't save."

When the morbid silence washed over the room, Remus realized with startling clarity that Snape was imparting something sacred to him. He was being allowed to see into a piece of Snape's soul, the part that grieved continuously about his students, and Remus found himself oddly touched.

"You can't save a student who doesn't want to be saved."

Snape moved restlessly around the room, his feet pacing deliberately in constant steps. "Oh, don't think I lament like some sentimental fool. Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved." (1)

Remus nodded slowly, golden eyes filled with understanding. Pausing, he debated whether to speak his mind. He was risking everything if his words hit closer to the truth then Snape was comfortable with… but between the choice of a possible relationship and the chance to have Severus reduce some of his self-hatred, he would rather Snape loathe him forever.

"You still blame yourself, though. I know you do. It wouldn't be Severus Snape if you didn't."

Snape snorted. "And how would you know?" Dark eyes narrowed themselves at hazel.

Remus only smiled. With another glance at the sheet, he asked, "Are you sure they've all gone to Voldemort?"

For a moment, Remus thought Snape wouldn't answer, but a bitter laugh rang out dark and true. "Gone to Voldemort? I have separate list for those students."

"Then… these are…?"

"Even you can't guess? I suppose my old skills of silent communication have somewhat faded." Snape stared at Remus for a few seconds, before snatching the paper back, the anger burning bright in his eyes. "You fool! Can't you see! Don't you read that blasted tabloid, the Prophet?"

"Severus… I can't afford the Prophet."

"Then you should have heard! That's all those backstabbing, prejudiced cretins talk about! How Slytherin's are an evil group of would-be Death Eaters!" Remus still felt mystified. With a slow shake of his head, Snape closed his eyes, as if his mind pained him.

"They're dead."

Utter silence greeted that cold, lifeless statement.

Remus wet suddenly dry lips, before trying to speak in a low voice. "Severus. I…"

"They're all dead. Even Marcus Flint. I had tried my hardest to save them, and they couldn't be saved. They died with tears on their faces. Some died with brands on their arms. Some with madness in their eyes. Others because of hatred and grief. No one can save a Slytherin who is determined to die. But by then, few would care."

Barely breathing, Remus could tell that Snape no longer even realized that he was speaking to someone he used to loathe and fear. He had disappeared into his own nightmare, speaking to the air, if anything at all.

"I watched some of them die in front of my eyes. They screamed. Some cried for me to help. Others begged for their parents to save them. The blasted Ministry doesn't ever seem to realize that the Slytherins often die the earliest. The easiest. The slowest. I told them to give up the mark. I did my job and warned them. I warned them about Voldemort's dangers. And they listened to me." Snape paused.

Not wanting to stop this seemingly delicate and endless cycle of grief, Remus sat perfectly still, never taking his soft, gold-flecked eyes off the Potions Master.

"That list is my damnation. Every single name on there is the name of a student, of a child who had been under my tutelage. It's true. What Gryffindors say: most Slytherins do go to Voldemort."

"No… that's not true, Severus."

"It is. I did. Lucius did. Every single student of my year did. We made the choice. I was a coward and returned to Dumbledore. And how about the students now? Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent, they may have turned their backs on their families, but how about other students? How about those who don't?"

With a gentle voice, Remus answered quietly, "And perhaps, in a few months time, they will make the same choice you did. To come back."

Remus allowed a silence to stretch long and thin.

Standing up abruptly, the moment was lost. Snape busied himself with organizing the sparse contents of the room, obviously indicating that their conversation was over. Seeing that Snape looked rather ill at all he had revealed, Remus didn't dare push. He started speaking of the school, of a few students, the latest bits of gossip drifting in from Hogsmeade, and for a few moments, there was peace.

A growl sounded from the door, and Remus looked up to see Padfoot scamper in. Nudging the heavy door close with his nose and body, he shimmered for a second before shifting back into his human form. With a scowl, he said, "Remus, I'm here to get you."

Snape turned to see a sulky-looking Sirius Black lounging in the door and he rolled his eyes. For a moment, Remus cursed his best friend. Of all the inopportune moments to show up! Veiling back his frustrated sigh, he said, "In a moment." Turning back to Snape, he said, "I'll speak to you later, Severus."

Sirius snorted. "C'mon Remus. Don't tell me you really want to hang around this git." His blue eyes glittered, and Remus could tell he was itching for a fight. Alarmed, he leapt up between the two and within moments, he was hurriedly calling a goodbye to Severus and forcing Sirius into the hallway. Sirius transformed back to his dog form, but with a gum-baring growl, Remus could tell his friend was angry.

Bending forward until their eyes were matched, Remus said, "You promised, Paddy. Me and Dumbledore. You said that you would work with Severus and that your grudges would be put aside! For heaven's sake, we're in the middle of a war, and you still hate Severus for what he tried to do to you? And no less then what you did to him. Call it fair and even and let it go."

Padfoot whined softly, and Remus could see the hurt in the dark brown eyes before the dog started slinking off with his tail between his legs.

With an exasperated sigh, Remus hurried after him. "Padfoot, stop! No, don't go running off to find Harry so you can lick your wounds.  You know what I said was true. And I'm sorry it hurts you, but please, Padfoot. For me, alright?"

The Animagus turned toward him with a reproaching glare, but with a barely noticeable nod, he sat down on his haunches. Remus smiled and then ruffled the fur on Padfoot's neck. Gesturing toward their chambers, they entered and Sirius morphed back into his human self.

The two settled down for an early evening.

~*~*~*~*~*~

If Sirius had intended to anger Severus Snape, he obviously was starting to lack in insults. Snape found himself far more amused then sulky with whatever anger Sirius had hoped to plant in his expression.

Surprisingly, after that talk with Remus, he felt immensely better. There was something about Remus that gave him a great deal of peace. He usually didn't dwell on those thoughts, but when he did, there was always the stray, wistful thought of if…

Shaking his head in consternation, Snape set away the last of his implements and realizing that he had actually grown tired, he glided toward his bedroom, with all intentions of sleeping for once. He hadn't been lying to Dumbledore when he had excused himself for the night. He was tired.

~*~*~*~*~

So much for sleep.

Snape's nerves were frazzled and he could barely keep from snarling at the ever-cheerful Lottie Sprout who flopped down next to him. She beamed before sweeping off her wide-brimmed, pointed hat and set it on the table before her. He ignored her effusive ramblings, instead, concentrating on his coffee, with a generous dose of his own interpretation of the muggle concoction of 'caffeine'.

The day had been an annoying mix of messed-up Potions and giggly children. He had barely managed to make his way through dinner when Dumbledore just had to announce so cheerfully that all professors were to attend a mandatory meeting.

Sipping the hot liquid, he settled deeper into his robes and watched the rest of the staff and faculty stroll in. The meeting was specifically about Lupin and Black.

Wrinkling his nose, he tore his eyes away from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor (A witch who was an old friend of Dumbledore's and who had the most annoying name of Mary Sue (2)) and tried to ignore the warm heat that curled from his stomach to his toes. The same curl that always seemed to appear out of nowhere when he thought of Remus Lupin and for some reason, noted the little streaks of gray in the deep brown.

You both won't be young forever.

Almost sticking his tongue out at that thought, he cleared his mind as he went back to nursing his precious coffee. (3)

Minerva primly set herself into his other vacant side, long resigned to the fact that if no one else sat by Snape, then Lottie, who for some odd reason was fond of the 'boy', would be the only one since everyone else shied away from his sharp tongue. And the Gryffindor in her just couldn't let him sit all forlorn and alone. And she had to admit, she considered him one of the few who matched her own intelligence.

Seeing that there would be a little time before the staff meeting started, she turned to Snape, intent on being polite even if they did disagree on a few items of interest. "Severus, how are you?"

He glared at her.

"Fine, I see." She always found that after talking to the dour Potions Master, she was often brighter. A guilty pleasure, but one she enjoyed wringing.

"Some of your Slytherins have been acting up. If it's possible, could talk to them for me? I'd rather not take so many points away."

"Names?"

"Baddock and Pritchard are leading them, but some of the young ones are going along."

Snape nodded brusquely, but inwardly he was groaning. Those two were pretty much already on the Death Eater road. He didn't like writing them off just yet, but they were closer to the dark side rather then Hogwarts. As for the younger kids, he would have a talk with them…

Dumbledore sat jovially at the head of the great staff table and called for everyone's attention with sparks flying from his wand. "Ah, thank you, thank you!" Beaming, he directed his attention to the middle where, with a wave of his gnarled hand, two tiny figures appeared. Snape glared again.

It was Lupin and Black.

"As all of you know, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black are with us at the moment. I also trust that all of you have cleared Sirius Black from his wrongdoings in your mind, since the truth has been discovered."

Everyone nodded. Some still had inklings of doubt on their faces, but in the light of Dumbledore's confidence, that particular emotion seemed to seep away. Clapping, silence reigned again.

"And of course, they will be staying at Hogwarts for a duration. Professor Snape has kindly provided them living space in the dungeons."

All eyes turned toward him, and he resisted the barely held-back urge of hexing everyone in the room. There were some amused glances, but others were placid and agreeable. The older professors seemed to accept this with great equanimity, but the young ones, including Audrey Sinistra and Whilky Pone, the new Muggle Studies teacher, seemed disbelieving.

"The point is that no one is sure of how long they should be here. The reason I asked them to come in the first place was that Hogwarts needed some extra wards placed on the fields outside. Sirius and Remus have handled that adequately, and I feel we should keep them for a few more weeks."

Snape stared at Dumbledore in shock. He had told him that they were only to be there for a few days! Days! DAYS! With a great deal of anger in his voice, he ground out, "They should leave. They have no business in the castle anymore."

McGonagall huffed, outraged. "Sirius and Remus need our protection as much as we need their help! I vote we let them stay as long as Mr. Potter is here."

"Black is still a wanted man! If he were to stay, anyone who didn't know the truth…" He let the word trail off with a snort, obviously still doubting the sanity of those who thought that Sirius wasn't an accused murderer. He arched one eye at McGonagall, daring her to argue.

And that she did.

"But Sirius didn't do what he did! And besides, he'll be in his Animagus state the entire time except for when he's with Remus or with one of us! He's been careful so far, and I doubt that anyone will dare to think that the dog is Sirius Black."

Snape snorted. "And if someone finds out?"

She waved a hand impatiently. "I thought I just cleared that up. I doubt anyone will find out as long as Sirius stays in his Animagus form."

"What happens if someone does?"

"Severus! You're being unreasonable. Surely you can see the positive aspects of Remus and Sirius staying. Added protection to say the least." McGonagall eyed him before speaking to the entire table. "I believe also that Mr. Potter needs his godfather nearby. Lucius Malfoy is still trying to get into Hogwarts for his son."

Snape glared at her and then sulked. She knew his eternal softest of soft spots was Draco Malfoy. Mention him and he would just melt into a puddle of snarkily agreeing Slytherin. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vector chuckle, and he latched onto her instead. "And what the hell are you laughing about?"

Mildred Vector just laughed harder. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she goaded him gently. "You, Severus. You're too protective of the Malfoy boy."

With a small groan, he leaned back into his chair and ignored the snickers that passed from professor to professor. After his fondness for Draco had been discovered, the other faculty had found his angry-snarl routine almost funny. Glowering, he pretended not to feel Sprout pat his hand with mild amusement. Turning back to Dumbledore with a huff in his eyes, he dared the old man say anything.

Silvery-blue eyes only twinkled before knocking on the table. "Then it's settled. Sirius and Remus will remain with us for the duration of the year."

Snape groaned. The words broke up the meeting and most stood up to leave.

When the black burning started.

With a small shriek, he stumbled and the mark on his arm pulsed with dark energy. Gritting his teeth, he ground his hand into the scar and with a ruthless gnaw of his lip he waited out the agony. He hadn't cried over the pain since the first time it burned, and he wouldn't start now. Not even for irrationality.

Around him, startled voices were seeping into his concentration, but all he could focus on was the throbbing in his arm, and what he would have to face after the pain stopped. There was no doubt that Voldemort wanted them all gathered immediately. He could feel the rage and amusement crawl up and down his arm like hundreds of poisonous spiders. 

As the agony subsided, he stood shakily from his crouched position, his eyes glazing over as his eyes connected with Dumbledore's. The twinkle had disappeared, and worry was coloring his wrinkled face. Snape managed to rasp out, "He's calling." With that, several gasped. McGonagall lost all color in her face before she managed to help him onto his feet, while Sprout hopped around him, her eyes worried.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes growing grave. Snape stood and immediately went out in search for the other person who he needed to help bring with him to the meeting. This would be her first time aside from the initiation, and her parents had specifically asked him to escort her safely to the site.

He could only hope that she was alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Pansy was studying her essay on Vampires and Their Reason for Existence, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why her second paragraph didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the words. Picking up her quill, she reluctantly crossed off the paragraph and continued perusing through the rest of the sixteen-inch essay. With luck, she could be done editing within an hour and could start on rewriting it on a fresh piece of parchment.

The library had grown crowded and deserted, depending on the minute on the hour, the time of day, and the amount of work due. She had deliberately selected a table in one of the shadowy corners. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor that had died down due to Draco and Harry's rather abrupt bond had drawn rifts within Slytherin itself and in the dawn of the Quidditch season, they might as well have thrown in the book.

The two had agreed that their relationship wouldn't carry on to the Quidditch field and when the Snitch was in question, war was inevitable. Never liking the game much, she chose to keep a low profile during the intense hostilities for the Quidditch Cup.

Of course, that still didn't prevent many members of the other houses from making nasty remarks.

Setting her quill down, she allowed for a moment of rest, rubbing fatigued eyes. It was a wonder that Hermione could be Head Girl and still keep up perfect grades. There were times when Pansy felt so envious, so jealous of the Gryffindor's seemingly effortless ways of claiming the top throne, of being the best no matter what circumstances she was in.

Biting her lip, she quelled such dark thoughts with a guilty and heavy sigh. Pansy rolled her parchment up and moved onto something new for thought. Her lab for Professor Snape still needed a little tweaking here and there, while her lengthy scroll on the turbulent history of Divination was almost done.

The sound of someone dropping into the seat across from her brought her head up and she smiled briefly at Millicent, who looked as tired as she was. Millicent's own parents had refused to let her take the mark, and for the all-too brief moment, she was safe.

"Working again?" A small smile touched pale lips.

"You know Professor Snape. He won't be happy until everything is perfect." Pansy set her quill down and tilted her head to check where the sun was. Noting that the sun had already settled halfway into its sleepy bed of mountains, she stretched, arms rising in a cracking arc. "So late already?"

Millicent nodded absently. "The Gryffindorks are acting up again. One of the Slytherin first years came in crying."

Pursing her lips, Pansy started gathering her things. For a moment, there was pensive silence. She then broke it with bitter words. "And I gather the reason she was crying was because no one defended her."

Millicent had slight rebuke in her eyes. "Pansy, you know they couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because… because they're only first years. They'll learn."

"If they don't die first."

"Pansy!"

She sighed and then slipped everything into her book bag. "I'm sorry. I'm just… edgy I suppose." People were talking. There were rumors. And it didn't help that her parents had written her twice already, asking about what her sacrifice to Voldemort would be. Every Death Eater newly initiated was expected to present something of immense value to Voldemort. Not jewels or gold or even an arm or leg. It was to be deeply personal.

And Pansy was at a loss.

What could she give?

Millicent glanced at her friend from the corner of her eyes, as the two walked toward Slytherin Tower. The year had been long so far. She had been spared the worst by the protection of her parents. They had chosen to step away, even though they were ancient purebloods.

From when she was young, they had encouraged her to show what a Slytherin could do. She had entered Slytherin and with nimbleness, she had worn the mask that nearly all Slytherins wore. No one had known of her alliance until Draco had turned his back on his father. Her parents had been so ebullient that day. If a Malfoy, the family reputed to be directly born of the ancient Slytherin line, the bloodline fraught with old hate and prejudices, if they could turn, then anyone could.

The Bulstrodes wanted the world to know that not all pureblood Slytherins insisted on absolute cleanliness of lineage. Smiling involuntarily, Millicent remembered that her father even asked her rather excitedly if she was interested in any Gryffindors. Snorting, she shook her head as Pansy gave her a puzzled smile.

As if I would ever fall for a Gryffindork.

Millicent paused as she saw a group of Ravenclaws ahead of them. Nudging Pansy, she veered them slightly to the side so they could pass without touching or words.

Of course, nothing ever happens so nicely.

One of the Ravenclaws, a face devoid of an inch of skin without makeup and smiles, looked down her nose at Millicent who flushed bright red. With a stinging bluntness, she knew she was what nice people considered plain. Not distinguished. Not stately. Not elegant. But rather plain.

Pansy glared at the blue-eyed Ravenclaw and grabbed Millicent's hand. They were a few steps more down the hallway when a haughty voice followed them.

"I suppose Slytherins move best in the shadows."

Millicent whirled around, a sharp retort on her tongue. "Well, it's better then dusty Ravenclaws who spend all their time with their noses stuck in a book."

"Better then a Slytherin who acts like a whore."

Pansy snorted. "Is that the best you can come up with? Better then a Ravenclaw who fucks anything that moves."

The girl paled as she turned away, tears brightening her eyes. One of the boys clenched his fists and ground out, "Better then a Slytherin who's going to kill us all!"

Pansy froze. The mark on her arm seemed all the more virulent. Swallowing convulsively, one hand strayed up involuntarily to clutch at her arm, and one of the Ravenclaws noticed. His eyes widened and quickly ran back to her face. With a small shriek, he screamed, "Death Eater!"

Everyone froze.

Millicent's mouth was hanging open. With a shrill cry, she lashed back, "Liar! You're a fucking liar! Leave her alone!" With that, she tugged on Pansy's arm and the two were moving quickly down the hallway when the boy came after them and grasped onto Pansy's other arm. Hard. He yanked with enough force so that Pansy jerked across the stone and slipped with a startled cry to the ground. With a ruthless shove, he threw Millicent, who had started screaming, against the wall. She connected with sickening thud and her wand clattered against the ground, the smooth bark cracking. Her body lay ragged on the ground as she attempted to regain her breath.

There were several frightened shrieks for him to stop, but he straddled Pansy's body, and his face, crimson with hatred, forced her flailing body down. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and Pansy found it so repugnant that she dug her heels into the floor to try to knee him the back. She wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

With a small scream, his hand came flying out of nowhere and slapped her across the face.

Too stunned to do anything, not even grab her wand and hex him into oblivion, she could only lay there stunned as the hand came up for another blow across her other cheek. Distantly, she could hear Millicent's sobs and see arms trying to pull to boy off. Another blow cut her lip and she felt blood smear across her cheek. The metallic taste melted into her mouth, causing her to gag and he pulled back his hand to deliver a crushing blow to her face…

"Petrificus Totalus!" The words were roared and the boy stiffened and fell to his side, his eyes wide and still wild with rage.

Pansy curled onto her side, coughing as the pain came back in a rushing wave of agony. Her face was burning and it stun as if someone had lit a fire on the tender skin. Millicent was suddenly beside her, face deathly white. With a choking sob, she hurriedly brought out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood.

Hermione stood beside them, her face dark and forbidding. With a sharp iciness to her voice, one that none of the Ravenclaws had ever heard before, she ordered, "Finite Incantatum. Who the hell are you?"

The boy seemed to have regained his senses, because with a shuddering gasp, he glanced at Pansy, and as if realizing what he did, he sobbed and buried his face in one of his friend's shoulders.

"Do you have any idea what you were doing?" Hermione spoke in a low, deadly tone. With one hand, she waved brusquely. "Doesn't matter. Fifty points from Ravenclaw." A gasp. "And more if any of you come near a Slytherin like that again. You." She pointed at the boy who had lost his senses and nearly snarled, "You will report to the Headmaster. And you will tell him everything you did right now. If I find out that you didn't, I will personally inform Professor Snape about this incident." She glared at him until he nodded, a numb look on his face. "Go!"

The group scrambled, but one of the Ravenclaws stopped, turned, and her face was tight with anger… and there was just a hint of guilt. "This is their fault. His father was killed by Death Eater scum!" She spat out the last few words as if it was dirty, and with a violent look at Pansy, she fled the scene.

Hermione exhaled, her breath gusty. Turning to a silent Pansy, she kneeled next to her. She pulled out her wand and started casting healing spells when Pansy's hand shot up and knocked her wrist away. Hermione glanced at her with a startled glare. 'What are you doing? I need to heal those bruises!"

Pansy stood and brushed her robes off. Millicent followed slowly, her lips pressed together into a thin line. Her blue eyes locked with Hermione's and with an icy, regal tone, she murmured, "I'm perfectly fine. I need no help from a Gryffindor."

Hermione's mouth fell slack. "Are you still acting that way? Get real! We're on the same side!"

"Same side or not, I still need no help."

"Fine!" Hermione huffed, "If you don't want my help, you don't need it. You can get someone else to heal those cuts on your face." She glared at the Slytherin, and Millicent glanced up and down the deserted hallway with an edgy look on her face.

"Listen, let's do this somewhere else. It's not-" She was cut off by an unearthly shriek, one that echoed with agony, promised darkness, and was above all, damning.

Pansy fell to the ground, writhing in red-hot pain. Tears crept from her eyes and she gasped raggedly, feeling as though she was unable to breathe. Clutching at the mark on her arm, she pulled her sleeve up to look at the scar. She sobbed once, twice, as she, Hermione, and Millicent saw the mark burn blacker then pitch, tainting her arm like a ominous smear of death.

"Pansy!" Hermione was at a loss for words, and with a wide-eyed look of horror at the mark, she quickly racked her mind for the proper protocol. She had known that this would eventually happen, but it still wasn't enough. She wasn't prepared to handle something of this magnitude yet. Hissing, she cast a pain-killing charm, with no effect. Feeling tightly controlled hysteria start to well up in her, she cast whatever helpful spells and still, Pansy was staring at something she couldn't see, something Hermione didn't want to ever see.

Swallowing, she tugged on Millicent's arm and whispered worriedly, "We have to do something!"

"What?" Millicent shrieked. With a small cry, she shook Pansy's shoulders. "Pansy! Pansy, look at me!"

Tears were rolling down Pansy's pale cheeks, and she started rocking back and forth, her entire body shaking with pain. The mark hurt. There was no other description for soul-ripping, grinding hurt. There was no other reason then the Dark Lord was calling. He was marking them with his anger and vile hatred. He wanted them to come to him.

Hermione looked around frantically, and when she was about to scream for help, she saw Professor Snape's dark figure swoop in. With a grateful gasp, she said, "Professor! Thank Merlin you're here! Something's wrong! She started convulsing like she was under deep pain! Professor, what's wrong with her?" Wrong, wrong, wrong. She knew exactly what was wrong.

He latched one stormy eye on her, and she quieted immediately. "Ms. Granger, Ms. Bulstrode; return to your respective Towers. I will handle Ms. Parkinson. You will tell no one of this." His curt words might have just as well flown over their heads for all they did to follow his instructions.

But he ignored their presence. His attention was focused on person and one person only. A slim, strong arm went around her waist and he lifted Pansy to her feet, no compassion in his movements. They were sure and hard. She had to learn, if not now, then never.

"Pansy. Look at me. You cannot cry over the mark anymore. Do you understand? You cannot cry." His harsh words seemed to cut through her fog of anguish and dark blue eyes glanced up, tears springing fresh into them. He continued, his voice softer, but no less inflexible. "They will only see your tears as a weakness. They will not pity you or help. Remember. You are alone when we are gathered in front of the Dark Lord!"

Pansy shuddered, but with a silent acquiescence on her lips, she nodded. With that the two turned toward the entrance of Hogwarts. Snape looked back, his eyes sharp. Nodding once to Millicent, she shook her head in answer. With a fathomless cloud shading his features, he jerked his head upwards. Millicent nodded and then turned to go, seemingly oblivious of Hermione trailing after her, figure confused and worried.

"They're going to meet Voldemort aren't they?"

Millicent stopped in her tracks, her body growing rigid. Pivoting on her heel, she looked at Hermione with hateful intensity in her eyes. Hermione withstood the scrutinizing and gazed back, unwilling to show any lack of courage in front of what she had just seen.

"Granger. Let me tell you. I will never like you. I will never like Gryffindors. I only tolerate Potter because Draco loves him, for what reason I will never know. But hear this: where Pansy goes, I will never be able to say with all certainty. But if you or anyone dares to hurt her, I'll make sure you all suffer. Azkaban would be a small price." The hatred made her implied threats even worse, and Hermione watched her carefully, and then nodded with a brusque jerk of her head.

Murmuring, she said, "I'll make sure the Ravenclaws know about that."

"And the Hufflepuffs. And the Gryffindors."

With a falter, she murmured, "You know she is what she is." Millicent's eyes darkened and she was about to speak when Hermione put up a hand to stop her words. "No, listen. I can't protect her. It would seem too odd… I can only say that no one is to treat his or her peers like that. There are spies… you know as well as I do. It would be suicide to warn anyone to stay away from Pansy."

Biting her lips, Millicent burned, rage clear and shining in her expression. "Because she's a Slytherin, it would seem odd for a Gryffindor Head girl to protect her… but if it was from any other house, it would been fine, is that it?"

"… Yes. That's the truth. I'm sorry. But even if you and I know differently, others don't."

With an anguished choke, Millicent turned away. For a moment, Hermione thought the girl would run away from the scene or start crying. But once again, she underestimated how strong some of the Slytherin children were. Millicent placed her mask back onto her face and with a smoothness that would have seemed to be breaking point for others… it was merely another stop on a long, hard road for her.

"I understand." Her blunt words brought Hermione up to spec and for a moment, she could see Millicent, perhaps the real one. The one that had been brought up in terror, in fear, in the desperate pain that she, as a Gryffindor and muggle-born, could never understand.

Millicent moved quickly down the hallway and in turning a corner, she disappeared.

Hermione stood for a while, alone except for the occasional creak in the stones. With a distant thought, she realized that all the paintings in the hallway were looking at her rather sympathetically.

~*~*~*~*~*~

With a small gust of wind, the two appeared silently on the outskirts of the gathering group of Death Eaters. Beforehand, Snape had already gathered their Death Eater regalia. Mask, cloak, even badge that indicated their position. That was the one sympathetic concession he had allowed Pansy. He knew she loathed to even spare one look at the uniform.

She had dressed silently, emotionlessly, and he felt a sort of sick pride well up in him at the sight of her emotion-lacking eyes. Pansy was a true Slytherin, cunning and ambitious… just not the way her parents wanted her to be.

Now hidden, the two advanced on the group, and he tensed as he saw Lucius sweep by them. Once one of the most senior Death Eaters, Draco's resistance had done much to reduce his former superiority.

Pansy craned her neck unobtrusively. She didn't want to seem too eager, but she felt interest and anticipation well up in her, regardless of the fear. Noticing her father, she swallowed and pressed a bit closer to Snape. He glanced down at her diminished head and with a small, fatherly squeeze on her shoulder, it seemed to do much to alleviate her shakes. Pansy smiled gratefully up at him, even though she knew he had already turned away.

"Death Eaters."

The drawl of one who had confidence and the tones of one who knew he could be confident. Pansy stared, enthralled, at the figure slowly alighting from a throne-like structure with grace and elegant flow. She didn't even realize when one of her hands clutched onto a piece of Snape's robe, didn't see him turn to her slightly with a questioning glint in his eye, didn't see the understanding bitterness follow the confusion.

"The boy lives."

There was a hesitant silence before it grew ominous and several feet shuffled uncomfortably.

"And his allies grow each day. One of our own, the darkest child has fled. Malfoy." Voldemort turned to his right, his face sadistically gleeful.

"My Lord." Lucius bent to the ground and lifted Voldemort's robes to press stone-carved lips to the velvet.

"Since the last time I called, the thought of young Draco fleeing like the coward he is plagues me. How did a boy who was trained under your tutelage change so much?"

"There are aberrations in every line, my Lord," Lucius replied quietly, his silvery-blonde head still bowed humbly.

"Ah, yes." Amused, Voldemort waved Lucius aside, and crawling on his knees, the older Malfoy went to the side, eyes shadowed and emotionless. "You will be breeding another heir?"

"As soon as I find a suitable vessel for the child."

Voldemort smiled now, a horrible, ghastly grin that filled Pansy with shaking dread. "Very well. Death Eaters, we have lost a few of our numbers to the wretched Ministry since we last convened. Morse. Shore. Dede. Sussex. These four were of our circle and they have died for our cause. Their deaths will be revenged once we have won this war against the Ministry!"

His words were met with a roar of approval and Pansy could see so many people nod their masked heads with emphatic agreement. Feeling troubled, she wondered whether there wasn't any truth to Voldemort's words. She still didn't like muggleborns. She knew it was being hypocritical to expect other people to accept her as a Slytherin when she was so adamantly set against muggles, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that they were inferior to wizards and witches

"P…Professor?" Pansy whispered.

Snape turned to glance down at her. "Yes?"

"What he says… sometimes… sometimes I feel he makes sense…"

What she had expected was surprise and anger; what she got was understanding and agreement. "I'll tell you later."

She nodded and the two returned to watch a Death Eater standing up to pontificate about the worthiness of blood in the society. Voldemort was watching from his throne, a sunken cheek resting on a slim hand. His red eyes seemed bored, but otherwise, he appeared to be listening.

When the Death Eater finished, Voldemort stood gracefully once more. With a sweep of his arm, a small, nervous-looking Death Eater approaching him. Pansy watched with avid curiosity as the man stumbled and appeared to blush wildly beneath his mask. Beside her, Snape swore softly.

"Pettigrew."

Pansy's mouth grew slack. Pettigrew? The one who had died in the blast that had incriminated Sirius Black? The man that her parents practically worshipped? The Slytherin part of her mind immediately wandered back to The Order's meeting, and she remembered seeing a gaunt man with a mass of black hair that was sitting next to Lupin. If she knew her history correctly, Lupin had been a friend of Sirius Black's. And Dumbledore had mentioned him to her…

Snape grimaced and then murmured, "I'll explain afterwards."

"While we are close to our goal of taking Azkaban, the new Headmaster of Durmstrang is less then agreeable to our demands and he might be siding with the mudblood-loving fool, Dumbledore in this war. Determine among yourselves and find two who are to go to Durmstrang and convince the Headmaster that joining us will promise untapped glory." And tell him the consequences for not receiving me.

The Death Eaters nodded as one, and it seemed that automatically, two had already been selected.

A ring on Voldemort's hand gleamed dully in the light spells, and Pansy squinted to make out the insignia from where she was standing. She wasn't quite sure, but she was relatively certain that it was a serpent. Shuddering at the sudden chill that pervaded her, she ducked her head as his eyes roamed the crowd.

"And lastly, Hogwarts."

Snape stiffened by her almost imperceptibly.

"We have several spies there and one of our most valuable is a professor!" Voldemort laughed then, high and deep at the same time. Several shuffled their feet, but none dared to make a sound. "Hogwarts is our next target. Once the school falls, no one else will stand in our way. Remember that." There was a general agreement to the statement and Pansy felt her blood run cold. The school was the only safe haven left. For her and many others.

Swallowing, she licked her dry lips and tried to stop her fingernails from biting into the flesh of her palm.

"And that is all, Death Eaters. I have found this meeting tedious and I should think that no one would need for me to tell any of you this. Spread the word of Lord Voldemort. Let the wizarding world realize that I will brook no dissent." There was a reverence-filled hush and many bowed their heads.

"Very well. Leave… except for Severus Snape and Miss Parkinson."

There was a loud gasp, and Pansy glanced around rather dazedly for the person who had made the noise before seeing that everyone was staring at her. She then realized that the noise had come from her own vocal chords. She distantly felt Snape clasp a hand on her shoulder, before seeing the group of Death Eaters part like a wave of rippling black.

One by one, the Death Eaters Disapparated with a 'pop', and soon, she was one of the few left. Her father appeared at her side and removed his mask, a shining smile on his swarthy face.

"Pansy! This is a great honor for our family! Do try not to mess it up." He smoothed her hair, arranged her scarf, and then with a tenderness she had never thought her father capable of, he cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You do us proud, Pansy."

Proud. Dazed, she nodded slowly. At that exact moment, if he had asked her to stab a knife through her heart, she would have done it without a second thought. Pansy craned her neck to gaze at Professor Snape, a dark shadow crossing his face. Touching her on the back, he moved slowly backwards and stared edgily at Voldemort who was scrutinizing Pansy with an unreadable look in his garnet eyes.

Without taking his stare off Pansy, he directed a question at Snape, "Severus, I find it odd that you continue to favor the Malfoy boy when he's publicly left me."

"The old fool is watching everyone at Hogwarts at the moment. I do not dare draw more then necessary attention to my movements. My place as spy has been cemented however. No one suspects me of treachery to them when I so blatantly favor Draco still."

"Always the schemer, Severus?"

"Only for you, my Lord."

"And the continual flatterer I see. Very well then. I want you to watch the Malfoy boy. And Harry Potter. I want nothing extracurricular to escape your eyes. Anything else to report?"

Snape bent onto one knee and grasped at Voldemort's robes. "My Lord, Dumbledore plans something for Azkaban. I've overheard conversations between him and McGonagall about the Dementors. It seems that they're trying to persuade Fudge to turn Azkaban over to human guards."

If Snape had been expecting any sort of reaction, he did not expect a high, chilly laugh. His mind convulsed as the waves of dark laughter wrapped around his neck and squeezed. "My dear Severus. You worry too much. Azkaban is ours regardless of the Dementors or not. And I have other ways of making sure the Dementors will be on our side for the war."

Snape looked flabbergasted and his mouth opened in hopes of finding out more when Voldemort cast him a piercing eye. "Anything more?"

He swallowed and then whispered fervently, "Remus Lupin is at the castle."

"The werewolf has returned to its keeper? What a joke Dumbledore is. Perhaps he'll join us this time around… Watch him, Severus. His return to Hogwarts is too coincidental."

"With what?"

"Nothing you need to know about. Oh, and Lucius would very much like for you to take care of Draco for him." Voldemort then waved Snape away impatiently. "You may leave, Severus. She will return to you later."

Snape didn't move.

"I know how precious your students are, so I assure you, she will be back."

Snape bore his dark eyes into Pansy's, and in them, she begged for him to leave. If he stayed, Voldemort would grow suspicious of both of them, and there had already been too much sacrificed to simply give it all up now. Finally, with a brusque nod of his head he disappeared, leaving her alone with the clumsy Death Eater she had seen earlier, and her Lord… Voldemort.

As if controlled by the Imperio Curse, she glided toward Voldemort who had lowered his body back onto his high-backed chair. Eyes peered at her from lowered, purplish eyelids and she sank to her knees by his feet. "My Lord."

Voldemort waved away the rotund Death Eater who was always lurking by his side, and with a lingering look at Pansy, the boy? Man? Girl? did. She refused to let her breathing accelerate or change, but her heart palpitated wildly, and she fervently hoped Voldemort couldn't hear the loud thumping above his raspy breathing.

"Miss Parkinson…" She swallowed convulsively, and seeing the sudden serpentine-like smile on Voldemort's face, she knew he saw. One thin, pale, and spidery hand reached out and caressed her hair, smoothing down the odd bumps here and there. She barely prevented herself from simultaneously moving closer and further from the equally repulsive and attractive touch. He almost oozed with power, but the power was tainted with darkness, and while she badly wanted to sink into the sinful heat, she couldn't help but shudder as the mental images of hell roiled in her mind.

"Lucius told me that your father and him had agreed to a marriage arrangement between yourself and Draco Malfoy. Or the former Draco Malfoy. I have no idea what the traitor calls himself these days." Voldemort chuckled, seemingly very amused by his own joke.

Pansy shuddered as the questing fingers slipped behind her ear, but she didn't answer.

"Miss Parkinson? Is that true?"

Forcing her eyes to remain on the ground, she murmured as she kissed the hem of his voluminous robes, "Yes, it is true my Lord. I was engaged to the turncoat. But no longer. Our family broke off the engagement when we first received news about his defection from my Lord's side." And how her father had rejoiced. He had finally gotten one-up on his mortal rival for the Dark Lord's favor.

Voldemort touched a white finger under her chin, and tilted her face up. Refusing to look away, she gazed into his red eyes and though the small part inside of her still sobbed in wretched pain, the other, larger piece was infinitely fascinated and drawn by the sheer strength he exuded. Voldemort must have satisfied himself by whatever he distinguished in her cerulean eyes; he let her go and resumed his almost mockingly gentle combing motions through her hair.

"Then why are you still so friendly with him?"

A question she had been prepared for. "My lord; it would be foolish of me to draw unneeded attention by spurning what I formerly fawned over. There are many who hate Slytherins in school." That was one truth that fell from her lips. And she added intensely real bitterness to it.

"Ah… yes… I suppose you're mind works better then those who have made a great show of turning on Draco?"

"I dare not claim that superior compliment. I work for my Lord and my Lord only." Pansy bowed her head and her blood quickened at the restless feeling of the icy hands through her hair. Did he even have a soul? He seemed as cold as a corpse.

"Very true, Miss Parkinson. Your father touted your attributes well. Tell me; at your initiation, you seemed frightened and unwilling to receive the mark. Was it not an honor? For the mark to be awarded to someone as young as yourself?" Voldemort almost seemed amused by his questions, and Pansy felt fear catch in her throat.

"I… I am ashamed. I behaved poorly and it reflected on my father and mother. I assure you, my Lord, I was very proud… but I was summoned very suddenly. My father gave me no explanation for my sudden appearance amid my Lord's humbling presence, and I was in awe."

"Were you frightened?"

Pansy froze. For one dark moment, she didn't know how to answer. Answer truthfully and give Voldemort a reason to believe her? Or answer with lies and have him wonder about her arrogance?

With quiet conviction she didn't realize she could summon forth at the moment, Pansy admitted, "I was, my Lord."

"You were?"

"I was. And I am."

She could feel him smile, a feral, hunting grin. The Dark Mark fairly pulsed with anticipation, and the hands nestled themselves onto her shoulder. Pansy felt her heart rate slow, and suddenly, she was grateful for the thick robes they were required to wear as Death Eaters. It hid her sweating, shaking body, and prevented her from catching chill in the cold air.

"Honest my dear. Tell me one more thing; would you do anything for me?"

Pansy inwardly sighed with rushing relief. Bringing up his hem again, she pressed pale lips against the velvety softness and whispered, "Anything my Lord Voldemort requires of me, I would accomplish for him."

"Even if my orders were to kill Draco Malfoy?" Amusement tickled from his raspy voice, and Pansy wanted to shriek no, no, and no again. But drawing on that dark part in her, the space that did hate Draco Malfoy for turning when she couldn't, for making the choice she never made, for being able to deny the very darkness she was accepting, that part answered smoothly.

"Yes."

"Even if I asked you to poison that foolish mudblood-lover Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Would you rather enter Azkaban or flee like rats from a sinking ship?"

"Infinitely Azkaban." And that was true. She would have preferred that hateful place to the world controlled solely by the Ministry and their standards of 'good' and 'evil'.

Voldemort paused, the silence contemplative. One hand started trailing its cold fingers up and down her neck, and she shuddered. Out of pleasure or pain, she didn't know. With her lips still on his robes, she dared to look up, and through the growing darkness, as the various light spells started fading, she saw that his teeth gleamed dully. Voldemort was smiling faintly, and the red, which normally would have signaled Gryffindor warmth, only filled her with coldness unparalleled.

"I have spoken to your father and he has most enthusiastically agreed." Voldemort ran a cold hand down her face and Pansy turned into it, undeniably breathless. "You know I am searching for immortality?"

"Yes, my Lord. I have heard father speak of it."

"I find that risky, since there can be no definite future, as much as I would like to control it. And one day I shall. But that is beyond the point at the moment." How she had ended up here, kneeling at Voldemort's feet, her head and shoulders in his lap, her blonde hair being brushed out by his thin fingers, she couldn't figure out.

"I have been looking for several months now. Searching for someone appropriate." He paused, voice smoothing out. "My powers are strong, and there are few of the female persuasion who could bear it."

Pansy felt her blood run cold.

He tilted her head up once more, and his horrible, frightening eyes looked down into hers, expressionless, unassuming. She could almost believe that there was some tenderness lurking in them, if not for the cold, hungry glint for domination in all aspects of his life.

"I want an heir."

Barely daring to breathe, she managed to force out, "An heir? I am a female… an heir is always male among purebloods." Her insides quaked and before he could utter a word, she knew with dulling clarity of what he wanted. Of what proclamation he would declare next to ruin her.

"I have selected you as my bride. As my vessel. As the mother of my heir." Voldemort cupped her face and pressed thin, so very cold lips to hers, and she didn't move one muscle. Her heart stilled, the same as his, and she felt the ice seep through her, pour into every part of her soul, and still, she didn't move.

In her mind, she had known since the beginning, since the moment her mother has first started fussing over her looks and dress, always providing her with an endless account of galleons for clothing and makeup, always taking her to one magical doctor or another in order to carve out her best figure. Pansy had seen other Death Eater mother's growing obsessed with their daughters, and this was the reason.

Voldemort was eventually to choose one of them.

When her silence grew piercing, Voldemort glanced at her quizzically. "Do you not agree?"

She automatically shook her head 'no', but she couldn't voice the words yet.

"There, there. If you don't want to, I can find another." His voice was caring, and she could hardly believe that it was Voldemort, the darkest lord since Grindelwald, the bloodless leader of the Death Eaters, a new wizarding persona that 'proved' how 'evil' Slytherins were. He continued, his words deceptively soft. "There are others."

Others I would damn if I refused. Others that would die because I didn't agree.

"…I am in shock, my Lord."

"Yes, I suppose you would be. Your bloodline is pure, above all. Your powers have adequately displayed themselves, and your physical features will assure that the heir will be beautiful." Voldemort ran a fond hand over one pale cheek. "Such purity will show all of the wizarding world of what is truly worthy and what is worthless." He suddenly sneered and she was vividly reminded of what he represented.

"Miss Parkinson?"

Through her mind, hundreds of thoughts were buffeted by her memories.

…Professor Snape believing her when she had no one else to turn to.

…Draco watching Harry with anguished fascination in his gray eyes, unable to tear them away even when the Boy Who Lived turned to lock green with silver, and from then on, refused to back down.

…A grieving Cho Chang at the end of fourth year when Cedric Diggory had died.

…Millicent's shining eyes as she told Pansy of her parent's decision in refusing the mark for her.

…Gryffindor taunts of the Slytherin's lack of courage and bravery.

…The tears in Neville Longbottom's eyes when the first letter had swooped in, bearing the news of his grandmother's death.

…Her coming-of-age party where she had first met Voldemort.

…Seeing Draco and Harry together for the first time in public and wanting to cry with the sheer joy.

…Dumbledore's moment of weakness when she had first seen the signs of weary burdens.

…The pain-filled scream of that woman who had fallen apart simply because she had seen the Death Eater insignia.

…The look of tears and rage in the Ravenclaw's eyes as he beat at her – but not her, oh, not her, but at the Death Eater she represented.

All of these memories sieved through a spectrum of diverse emotions, and she had to mentally cut it all off to prevent herself from ripping completely apart at the seams. Voldemort had been watching her carefully and suddenly, her colorless lips of delicate composition smiled, and he involuntarily smiled back, charmed by the prettiness of her curved lips.

Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.

"I would be honored beyond comprehension to be your chosen vessel." There were no delusions in her flat statement. She knew he saw her as a womb rather then as a woman. She would receive the glory of being his chosen bride, the untold power of his favor, but nothing else.

At the same time, she also knew that, in his own way, he fancied her. Because Voldemort never chose anyone without reason.

And she was female.

For all his discarded mannerisms, he was still inherently male. And he wanted her. Not anyone else. But her.

Voldemort clapped his hands together, and his voice reverting back to the hiss he hadn't entirely gotten rid of, he called out, "Wormtail, a glass of wine for myself and my new bride to be."

The rotund – Wormtail was it? – Death Eater appeared from nowhere and Pansy found herself being examined by eyes the color of pale blue water. They were astonishingly bright, and she found herself not caring when she normally would have been avidly curious.

Wormtail poured out two glasses of aged wine, and the bright, maudlin red seemed out of place amid all the suffocating black. Voldemort plucked one of the delicate works of glass from the tray and handed it to Pansy who took it with an automatic touch. With a smooth, flowing movement, he stood and drew her close to him. With one arm around her shoulder, he pressed their glasses together, the tinkle ominous in the bitter air.

"To my future wife." He spoke to the air, but the way he drew the words out, there might as well been hundreds of followers present, all stiff and formal in their robes. Pansy didn't shudder. "To my future male heir. To my dearest, Pansy Parkinson." His soft emphasis on the word 'dearest' left her dull and panicked at the same time.

She raised her glass to his, distantly realizing that she was sealing an agreement that echoed wrongly on so many different levels. "To my Lord. To my Lord's male heir. To a future where purebloods govern." And to the world. To Professor Snape. To Draco and Millicent. And yes… to damnation and hell and darkness.

Voldemort sipped his drink and watched her down the entire glass with a single breath of air. He patted her pale cheek and he sank back down into his throne, motioning for her to follow. Placing her glass carefully back onto the tray, her fingers lingered on the cool surface, running bloodless tips over the smoothness. She would never be able to drink wine again.

"Now that our engagement is sealed, I will refer to your name of birth. And you may have the distinct honor of calling me 'Voldemort', one that few have. Pansy, come here to me." His voice brooked no argument and she obeyed without question. Absently, she realized that her father had been right all along. Death Eaters did belong to Voldemort. Body, mind, and soul.

She didn't react as she watched with blank eyes when he pulled his wand from his robes. When he pushed her collar aside at her neck, all Pansy did was tilt her head accommodatingly. Murmuring Latin words she didn't quite understand, small, white sigils appeared like misty fog in the morning sunlight. A burning rush touched her skin and it crept along the thin layers of skin cells and plunged into her lungs like a sweet poison.

Resisting the sudden urge to push Voldemort away, to scream, to shriek, to do anything but submit to him so quietly, so meekly, Pansy closed her eyes as Voldemort's words trailed to an end. She felt more then saw him lean forward to press corpse-like lips against the point where his wand had claimed, and she felt the lips grown hot, unbearably hot, and…

"You now belong to me entirely. My personal mark is written into your skin. Any male who dares to come near you with less then worthy attentions will be tortured with excruciating pain." He suddenly purred, and she felt his nose nuzzle as at her bared neck. "You will make me a lovely bride." Pansy held herself absolutely still, because if she didn't, she knew she would throw up.

"You should return now. Undoubtedly Severus will be rather worried for his students." With a chaste peck to her forehead, he pushed her slightly away. Pansy bent onto her knees and kissing his hem, she murmured her goodbyes. And then walked away, a small part of her amazed at her complete coolness of the situation.

Her steps echoed loudly in the silence. The silence that belonged to the Death Eaters and no one else. Voldemort had already claimed this area as his domain, and he would never tolerate birds and animals acting noisily at all hours of the night. Another aspect of her life that would change shortly.

As soon as she entered the outskirts of Hogsmeade, she Apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts and entered, not quite seeing the odd looks the guardians of the gates gave her. When she pushed open the doors to the great hallway, she dizzily realized that a small throng of people were quietly milling around, apparently awaiting her arrival.

A small cry greeted her entrance, and she distantly heard Professor McGonagall ask her if she was "all right?" No, she would never be "all right", but never mind that. Draco was there. So was Potter. And Granger. And Weasley. Millicent appeared at her side, worried at Pansy's uncharacteristic silence.

And then Pansy's blue eyes, darkened tonight by her new revelation, focused on the one person who had listened to her tortured whispers of how viciously beautiful Voldemort was to her. He had sat by her quietly, without judgment, as she raved one night about how she was torn between Voldemort and Dumbledore, never once mentioning that she should always pick Dumbledore's. He had endured her ravages of skin, wanting to tear off the mark while worshipping it at the same time.

Professor Snape was standing on the edge of the foyer, an unreadable look in his eyes. She drifted forward, ignoring everyone else in favor for the one person who understood how much her soul hurt at the moment.

Wrapping thin arms around his torso, she barely heard the startled gasps as she sought comfort, silent and strong. He easily lifted her up into his arms and words of "Pomfrey" and "Infirmary' soared through her mind, but she simply nestled closer, willing herself to forget the echoing words of Voldemort.

My bride to be.

As soon as she entered the infirmary, the smell of medicinal potions and dried herbs assaulted her senses. Fumbling at Snape's robes, she choked out for a pot, for a container, for anything. He hastily set her down and with a deft hand, fetched an unused bedpan. Uncontrollably, she bent forward and a wave of renewed nausea swept over her.

She retched over and over, the contents of her stomach continually clenching until she had nothing left but acid to give. Even then, she continued to heave dryly, unaware that hot tears were burning silvery tracks across her cold skin. Finally when her stomach had purged all that was physically possible, Pansy collapsed to the floor, shivering uncontrollably.

Pansy felt herself being lifted and gently deposited onto a soft bed. There was a rustling and small argument, but within seconds, a small bottle of earthy green liquid was shoved gently near her lips. Opening automatically, she swallowed the bitter liquid, and in the moment before she drifted off, she catalogued the potion as the Dreamless Sleeping Draught.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy Pomfrey made a disapproving sound as Snape fed Pansy the draught, but he ignored her in favor for his student. When her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into a deep sleep, he straightened and tucked the bottle carefully back into one of his many pockets.

With the manner of a worried hen, Pomfrey tugged the sheets and blankets up around Pansy and she murmured with a fretful air, "Poor dear. Having to face You-Know-Who all by herself."

Snape knew she hadn't directed any of her words at him. She was merely focusing on her own sympathy, but he felt the guilt well up anyway. It was his fault for leaving her so easily with Voldemort. He should have intervened and asked for more time. Should have pointed out that the school was suspicious as it was and he didn't want to risk more time then necessary for a student out of bed. Oh, he knew that there were other students at those meetings, students that he only had suspicions on, never absolutes...

But Voldemort had never wanted to talk to them alone.

By now, Poppy was moving around the room with a business-like efficiency. With a small clean-up spell, she nodded in satisfaction at the room. Glancing back at the brooding Snape, she sighed and asked, "Do you want to stay here with her? I know you probably won't get a wink of sleep either way, but at least here you can guilt with more ease."

Snape glared at her, and she grinned cheekily back. Patting him motherly on the shoulder, she went out the door and closed it quietly.

He was left with one of his students, one who had just returned from an unknown rendezvous with Voldemort. Snape had been bowled over as any of the Death Eaters when Voldemort requested Pansy stay behind. The Dark Lord rarely, if ever, concerned himself with the junior Death Eaters, and it was doubly rare for the person to be female.

Eye's darkening, they steepled below his chin and he stared into nothing. Wondered over the details, but after seeing Pansy's reaction, it had to have been something of either great importance or horrifying revelation. He hoped it was the former, since the latter would mean something entirely different.

He barely heard the door creak quietly open, but he did hear slight footsteps. Whirling around, he glared at the intruder and until her recognized the silver-dusted auburn hair. Sighing inwardly, he turned back to Pansy's unmoving figure below the pile of blankets. Remus shut the door gently and locked it with a whispered incantation. Moving with a grace that screamed of wolfish tendencies, he set himself gently into a chair next to Snape's, watching Pansy with troubled eyes.

Snape pretended not to notice, but he couldn't help but feel the heat emanating from Lupin's figure. Unconsciously pressing himself closer, he inhaled unobtrusively. God, Remus smelled good. Like the dirt. Like the earth. Like everything he wasn't.

Later, he would wonder why in the hell he had done it, why he had broken his twenty-year long sabbatical from any form of emotional affection. But one of his hands suddenly burrowed to its right and brushed Lupin's left hand. The heat flared like an explosion of fire.

Hesitating, he debated whether to grab on to it, when the question was solved for him. In the darkness where he couldn't see Remus and Remus couldn't see him, their hands cradled each other, a tender moment in a long stretch of bitter flashes. Silence was their other companion, and with it, darkness followed.

And it was sweet darkness. One that a weary soul could rest in. One where one who had tired of the light could sleep in.

With those work-roughened fingers stroking his own, Snape was startled to discover tears blurring his vision. To feel the long-forgotten ache in his chest. To realize that he was still human enough to want something so simple as skin to skin contact.

~*~ FINIS ~*~

NOTES:

1 – A reference from Nomad's arc, "Conspiracy of Silence". There are seven series, each devoting itself to a year of Snape's life at Hogwarts. It was just finished, and this is a homage to a great fic. *sniff* I'll miss calculating!Snape.

2 – Mary Sue. *grins* There are already many, many DADA professors. Thought I'd do a little joke about it.

3 – Coffee? Think the Coffee Series by Telanu. A favorite of mine, since it was one of the first Snape/Harry fics I've ever read (along with the tea series)

This took forever.

Sorry to those who have been following since the beginning. *sigh* Further chapters should be faster. I was just stuck on how precisely to handle Pansy in this chapter. I've decided that Draco and Harry will be the lesser characters in this. This focus will be on Remus and Severus. And to a lesser extent, Pansy, though it seems that she's stealing the show. ^__^  I've been thinking of getting back on track with Snape and Remus, and then creating a whole fic for Pansy.

I think the reason I like her so much is that she's what many girls want to be. We want to tell off the people we hate, but partially because of our own feelings of rebuke and guilt, we rarely do. And of course, she's my prime example of why Slytherin House isn't want it seems on the surface to Harry's eyes.

As for my characterization of Voldemort, that's deliberate plot-hole for the Harry and Draco part of the arc. The difference between fourth and seventh year is great, and undoubtedly, Voldemort would be gathering 'flesh'. Think the priest in "The Mummy". As for his choice, I actually think Voldie's bisexual. He doesn't care about the gender; just as long as he likes or craves it, he'll take it.

Pansy is someone he wants mostly for breeding, since I gather she has the purest line of all the Slytherin girls. From canon, I get the sense that Pansy and Draco are together under their parent's orders. And if that's true, that means its like Narcissa and Lucius. Their bloodline would be perfect for each other. That's why I had him select her. This was the squicky thing I was talking about. I grew a little sick just with the idea of him selecting her to have his heir. I suppose because it just seems so… deliberate. *shudders*

Thanks to all those who have reviewed! It made my day!

Reviewers:

DrWorm – Converting eh? *laughs* I hope so! I love Snape/Lupin far more then Black/Lupin. I suppose the angst factor figures in, and add in the fact that I don't particularly like Sirius. *sigh* I put in all the witches because I figure that's us. ^__^ Is the angst a bad thing?

ThreeOranges – I have 'things' planned for Pansy. Nothing to be revealed now, but I suppose it would be good to warn you all that it's not going to be all happy-sappy. I love the girl, but in my mind, the character's walking on a dangerous path. As for Figg… *grins* She's there partially to be the defender of Severus Snape. Can't have everyone hating him, right? ^__^ And Dumbledore… he needs to admit he made mistakes. *sigh* Still not sure how to redeem the Slytherins in the proper, but subtle way.

Shinigami – Most all know that Harry was almost sorted into Slytherin. This wasn't explicitly explained because I'm leaving that for the H/D arc of this timeline. *grins* And I'll include the Arabella/Dursley scene in that part too. It's all mapped out somewhat in my mind, but until I finish this one, it won't be on my list of priorities. As for Pansy and Hermione; the two will have to face something together. Just won't say what.

Moonfire – Can do! Thanks for reviewing!

Slytherin Goddess – Bring it on indeed. They're so much more enjoyable to write about then any other couple I've happened upon. I'm slowly delving into other ships, but this one is still my primary favorite. Thanks!

Nostradamus – I'm having her as the primary Slytherin for this series. Harry and Draco will get their turn in their own arc, but this is about Snape, Remus, and Pansy. Or actually, it was supposed to be about Snape/Remus, but Pansy elbowed her way in and now she won't leave. So I might divide her time between this and her own fic. ^__^ Arabella is one of my favorite characters, simply because she's one of the few female Aurors that I'm relatively sure exists.

Morgiana – Thank you! Gryffindor biases make me all indignant with rage. They're the 'Golden House' and everything they do is right while everything Slytherin does is wrong. Which is too black and white for my tastes. The one thing that makes me cry is the fact that so many Slytherins *could* be directed back to the right path if they were given a chance. But they aren't given anything but scorn. No wonder many join Voldemort. As for Arabella. ^__^ Probably a little. She's my protector for Severus Snape. He'll need it in the future.

Nyarth Kyukon – If there was one thing I wanted to do, that would be to sit J.K. Rowling down and talk to her about the Slytherins and what she planned for them. And then tell her about a group of people online that has a certain love for Slytherin House… The original theme for this fic was Snape/Remus, but it turned into something larger, that included Pansy. *sigh* She's stealing the show a bit, but the next part… it'll be Remus and Snape action!

Ustonz – Thank you! I hope you liked this part too!

Saint Fool – Slytherin that I am, I couldn't resist having someone other then Draco be a defector from Voldie's side. It would seem rather hypocritical if only Draco Malfoy sided with the Gryffindors. As for Sirius; don't worry. He'll get his own back later. I don't intend to make him completely the bad ass. *giggles* I actually rather like him. It's that just when he goes head to head with Severus, he tends to become some what of a… er… jerk. Wedding's are my thing! And yes, the HP world SO needs more strong female characters! What is with it, that the only strong females shown regularly are McGonagall and Hermione? As for Snape chasing – I finally figured out how I'm going to do that. *winks* It should satisfy everyone.

Littlewitch34 – I think that's what I was aiming for. I wanted to show that not all Slytherins were evil, and that seeing the books from Harry's POV greatly limits are view of the Slytherins. They are, after all, only children,

Nadeshiko Amamiya – I love Slytherin House. To the end of time. Thank you for reviewing1

Little_alley_dog - *beams* Thank you! I spend a long time on that section, mainly because there are times I would gladly strangle Dumbledore for what he does to Snape sometimes. Imagine; going back to Voldemort over and over. It would age anyone for life.

Dana Phearson – Your fics? What's your pen name? I would love to see them! Dumbledore and Snape's past is still partially a mystery… but some will be revealed in the far future. ^__^

Hana-chan – I'm glad you continued reading. Arabella and Pansy are quite dear. I'm almost rather scared that they'll get out of control and take over this fic. ^__^ "Operation Snog" will go off on a good note… and it'll end in a neutral way. I don't know whether I intend to make it happy or not. Maybe both.

Melodie – Glad you enjoyed it! Hope you liked this part as much.

Sugahcat – Anything for Remus and Severus. Harry probably wouldn't feel comfortable helping, but Draco would! He and Hermione will try their damndest to get the two together. If for no other reason because Draco's fond of Snape and Hermione's fond of Remus. Snape and Remus deserve a hand for all they've gone through. The Shrieking Shack still hangs heavy in my mind. *grin* Thank you!

Mucho gracias to all reviewers! You people make my day!

The next part will be out MUCH sooner then this one. Thank heavens.