A/N: Left you with a teensy bit of a cliffhanger, did I? Nyah, nyah, nyah.
It should have been fairly obvious.
Thanks to: Neshomeh, for also r&r-ing 'One Old Owl'. I guess you're right, nesh, he really doesn't seem so senile from his own point of view, does he? But keep in mind, he could probably state a good case for why squirrels worship the devil and are out to get him and must be killed, all the while sounding perfectly reasonable! Not to mention his stance on House-Elves ("Secret agents for the Ministry. Who knows how much information those nosy creatures have ferreted out!").
Dedicated to: DamnCat, mostly known as DC. If Deece were alive today, he'd be fourteen, same age as me. He was the inspiration for my evil-yet-nice felines who have been written into my role-plays and my stories alike. He was a loyal friend and he was always there. I swear he had feline telepathy, and he was much loved. I don't care what anyone else says, he was the handsomest cat I've ever seen. Okay, so he was a Mummy's Boy. Delilah (his mother. A cat, duh) spoiled him like no other kitten (cleaned up after him, fought off other cats…etc…etc) and then, when he was about five or so, he suddenly had to fend for himself. I'm proud of the way he coped, suddenly acting like a cat in his prime when he was well past. He died at the age of twelve, of old age. He had a heart murmur, cancer (either skin or in his eye. There was definitely something gross in his eyes), and we would have had to let him go anyway. He crept away and was gone, like autumn's leaves. He had always been there, and suddenly he wasn't, but he'll always live on in my heart, and in my stories. DC, if you're somewhere in Cat-Heaven (and I refuse to go to Heaven if DC, Delilah, and all my other dearly departed pets aren't there), and you're looking down at me, I love you lots and I'll see you in about 70 years.
-
Chapter Ten: Truth lies in the Heart ((how true))
-
Draco knew the answer to his 'question of loyalty'.
He loved Morag.
And he'd never been particularly fond of his father. As for Voldemort – a madman with power.
Morag was something else. He didn't care if she had manipulated him; he loved her – had always quite fancied her – and he would do anything for her.
-
Harry paced.
Kieran worried.
Ron looked stunned.
Ginny worried about Harry, Ron and Kieran.
Hermione worried about everyone.
What was going to happen now?
-
Morag's beautiful dress robes were torn and bloodied, her hair had fallen from the elaborate style long ago, but she still had her jewelry. Should she feel grateful? She wasn't sure.
"You will be a suitable bride for Malfoy's son." Voldemort mused aloud. "Once we have the pair of you under the Imperio curse, you will be happy enough."
Morag tried to block out his voice as she stirred the potion that she would have to drink before she summoned the Keeper. Her feelings had been walled off, and she ignored everything around her as she focused on the task at hand. At least they would survive, she would repeat to herself silently.
But what sort of existence would they lead?
She didn't want to think any further than survival.
-
Severus stared at the fire in his chambers.
Dumbledore and those loyal witches and wizards had been using every magical means they had to search for where Voldemort had Morag and Morganna. But they had found nothing.
'Nothing so far.' He corrected himself silently. 'They will be found. They have to be.'
He wished he could have done something, accursed guilt rose up, silently accusing. He could have done something, he should have, he was weak, he had failed them…
"No!" he shouted aloud. "I love them and I did all I could!"
-
Truth lies in the heart.
-
-
A/N: I know, a really short chapter. Nyah. I don't care. And that last line was fairly ambiguous. I could have meant anything. I leave it to you to decipher.
Thanks to: Neshomeh, for also r&r-ing 'One Old Owl'. I guess you're right, nesh, he really doesn't seem so senile from his own point of view, does he? But keep in mind, he could probably state a good case for why squirrels worship the devil and are out to get him and must be killed, all the while sounding perfectly reasonable! Not to mention his stance on House-Elves ("Secret agents for the Ministry. Who knows how much information those nosy creatures have ferreted out!").
Dedicated to: DamnCat, mostly known as DC. If Deece were alive today, he'd be fourteen, same age as me. He was the inspiration for my evil-yet-nice felines who have been written into my role-plays and my stories alike. He was a loyal friend and he was always there. I swear he had feline telepathy, and he was much loved. I don't care what anyone else says, he was the handsomest cat I've ever seen. Okay, so he was a Mummy's Boy. Delilah (his mother. A cat, duh) spoiled him like no other kitten (cleaned up after him, fought off other cats…etc…etc) and then, when he was about five or so, he suddenly had to fend for himself. I'm proud of the way he coped, suddenly acting like a cat in his prime when he was well past. He died at the age of twelve, of old age. He had a heart murmur, cancer (either skin or in his eye. There was definitely something gross in his eyes), and we would have had to let him go anyway. He crept away and was gone, like autumn's leaves. He had always been there, and suddenly he wasn't, but he'll always live on in my heart, and in my stories. DC, if you're somewhere in Cat-Heaven (and I refuse to go to Heaven if DC, Delilah, and all my other dearly departed pets aren't there), and you're looking down at me, I love you lots and I'll see you in about 70 years.
-
Chapter Ten: Truth lies in the Heart ((how true))
-
Draco knew the answer to his 'question of loyalty'.
He loved Morag.
And he'd never been particularly fond of his father. As for Voldemort – a madman with power.
Morag was something else. He didn't care if she had manipulated him; he loved her – had always quite fancied her – and he would do anything for her.
-
Harry paced.
Kieran worried.
Ron looked stunned.
Ginny worried about Harry, Ron and Kieran.
Hermione worried about everyone.
What was going to happen now?
-
Morag's beautiful dress robes were torn and bloodied, her hair had fallen from the elaborate style long ago, but she still had her jewelry. Should she feel grateful? She wasn't sure.
"You will be a suitable bride for Malfoy's son." Voldemort mused aloud. "Once we have the pair of you under the Imperio curse, you will be happy enough."
Morag tried to block out his voice as she stirred the potion that she would have to drink before she summoned the Keeper. Her feelings had been walled off, and she ignored everything around her as she focused on the task at hand. At least they would survive, she would repeat to herself silently.
But what sort of existence would they lead?
She didn't want to think any further than survival.
-
Severus stared at the fire in his chambers.
Dumbledore and those loyal witches and wizards had been using every magical means they had to search for where Voldemort had Morag and Morganna. But they had found nothing.
'Nothing so far.' He corrected himself silently. 'They will be found. They have to be.'
He wished he could have done something, accursed guilt rose up, silently accusing. He could have done something, he should have, he was weak, he had failed them…
"No!" he shouted aloud. "I love them and I did all I could!"
-
Truth lies in the heart.
-
-
A/N: I know, a really short chapter. Nyah. I don't care. And that last line was fairly ambiguous. I could have meant anything. I leave it to you to decipher.