Warnings – Mentions of violence and Non Consensual sex.

Chapter 11 – The Musings Of Butterflies

They sat in silence for several minutes.  Sophie was trying to read his expression but she could not.  Grief, rage, madness none of it fit.  She was lost for words and that did not happen often.  They seemed to be moving in slow motion.  She watched as he got up and walked over to the fire and drained his glass.  Sophie got up, brought the wine over and re-filled it. He accepted turned and sat down on the couch.  "Can you go on?" she asked as she sat next to him.

"Yes, I just needed a minute."

"We could stop now if you'd like."

"I'd rather get this over with."

She suddenly felt small.  "Okay."

He took a deep breath, and without looking back, he persisted. "They wanted to punish her because she would not pledge her loyalty.  They wanted to punish me because I was not loyal enough.   They were prepared for my refusal to kill Dumbledore.  They brought her out before me, naked. They made me stand there while they," he swallowed hard, "they…"

"You don't have….."

"No," was tone was explicit; he looked deeply into her eyes.  "I must go on.  You have to understand what you are dealing with, you have to understand the type of people these are, how heartless, how absolutely devoid of compassion…" He lost this voice for a moment.  "They made me watch as they violated her repeatedly. Under a powerful binding charm, I could not move, I could not even scream. They made me watch while they slowly tortured her before they finally killed her.  They told me they would destroy everything in this world that I ever loved and would make me bear witness to every minute of it.  What they did not know was that they had already succeeded; they had already destroyed everything in the world that I loved. My wife, my ideals, my dream of the future all wiped away, but what was even worse was that they made me responsible for it.  They put her blood on my hands.  I had nothing left…not even my illusions."  He was staring forward as if a ghost was hovering before him.

Playing the part of the detached psychologist was never as difficult as it was right now.  "What did you do next?"

"I told them I would take care of Dumbledore.  I went to his office in the middle of the night and turned myself in. I told him everything and brought with me the details of their plans and the potions I had created as well as the antidotes no one knew I had made. I was somewhat high up in the hierarchy and had an overabundance of information.  I told him all about the Death Eaters, their camps,  their activities. I disclosed every piece of information that I knew. Then I sat and waited for the Dementors."

"What did he do?"

"He was merciful…he left me alone."  He took a long sip of wine. "I don't really remember much of what happened next.  Dumbledore went to the Ministry and told them everything I had said.  He begged for clemency claiming the information I had supplied would save hundreds of lives, which apparently it did.  Then he asked if I could be left to his care and somehow, he got them to agree."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

He gave a small, bitter smile.  "I wanted to go to Azkaban.  I wanted to suffer as she had.  I wanted to feel the kiss that would drain the soul from my body because somehow that would be less painful than living."  He sat back on the couch and seemed to relax if only a little, as if he were lighter for his admissions. "It took a while before I would regain anything that remotely resembled a life.  Dumbledore offered me sanctuary and eventually a purpose.  He convinced me that my talents could be used to train the next generation to respect magic and not abuse it.  He also made me the head of Slytherin House so that I would be personally responsible for bringing back some honor to the house that was my home. So many Death Eaters came from our ranks, it decimated us.  We went from being revered for our abilities, to being loathed for our weakness.  It would be my mission to restore it to what it once was."

"Is that why you favor your students so much more than the other houses?"

"I understand them, I pity them, and I want to make sure they realize that ambition and cunning are not necessarily vices.  I want them to appreciate their worth to this world and to have a mind of their own.  I want them to know that they do have choices no matter where they came from.  If I show them favor it was because I know what is waiting for them when they leave and I want them to feel they too can have refuge."

"So why are you extra hard on the other students?"

At his question the smirk was back on his face and Sophie was happy to see it there.  "Why don't you ask the question you have been dieing to ask?"

"Fine, why are you so hard on Harry?"

"Because someone had to be." He took another sip of wine seeming to enjoy the look of confusion on her face. "He did not even know who he was when he came here.  All of a sudden 'the boy who slept in the cupboard under the stairs' became the 'boy who lived.' He was revered and worshipped and he didn't even know why.  He had no sense of who he was or who he needed to be. He needed a counterbalance.  He needed to know that one could not be born into glory, but must earn it.  He had to earn it.  Someone had to show him that rules are there for a reason.  They are to be valued and followed.  Death Eaters never thought the rules applied to them.  Harry would have the ability to be great.  He needed guidance.  It was what I needed to do."

"So you were hard on him because you wanted to protect him."

"Precisely."

"So then why so hard on the others?"

He thought for  moment and shrugged his shoulders.  "Variety."

"I see…Well, I suppose everyone needs a hobby."

They just looked at each other and started to laugh and for a brief moment, it seemed to break the tension that had filled the room.

Sophie spoke softly, "Can you tell me about Cecilia?"

Sophie was surprised to see a small smile come across his face.  "Cecilia…" He spoke as if in a dream and for a second the boy was back in those bottomless black eyes. "We met in our third year here.  She was beautiful with violet eyes that always seemed to be dancing, a smile permanently fixed on her face, and a laugh that was intoxicating.  She was brilliant and passionate and, for some strange reason, she loved me.  She knew all my faults and she didn't care. Her love was unconditional.  She made me a better man by just being by my side…" He turned again to the fire.  "We were wed very young, right out of school. We were married for four years before…well before."  He drained his glass again.  "She was an amazing witch you know.  She became an Animagus in less than a year."  Sophie went to refill but he declined.

"What did she turn into?" she asked suddenly needing to know everything she could about her.

"A butterfly."

"That's an odd form."

"Not for her.  If you knew her you'd understand, she couldn't be anything else. I still think of her whenever I see one fluttering about, flying freely around the world, making people smile just by being there."

They went silent again.  Neither really knew what to say.  They both felt drained and empty.  Sophie wanted to hold him so badly.  She wanted to comfort him and tell him he did all he could.  That we all make bad choices, it is a fact of life.  That if we did not make mistakes we could not learn from them, and if we could not learn we would never evolve.  Somehow she knew that he did not want to be comforted.  Somehow she knew that this was his catharsis.  All she could bring herself to do was put her hand on his and smile.  She hoped he would understand.

He stared at her hand.  It looked so lovely to him.  He was grateful she was not trying to analyze him.  He did not want this to become one of her patients.  With a start he realized he wanted to be her friend.  He looked into her eyes, "We are going to need more wine for what comes next."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "And what comes next?"

He leaned in. "Reciprocity."