(A/N: The original breaks of this story has been changed to a series of dots… When I tried uploading the new chapters, the original breaks would not show up--making it hard and obnoxious to read the chapter. Sorry for the inconvenience! -Vouivre)

Overcome

Even now
The world is bleeding
But feeling just fine
All num in a castle
Where we're always free to choose
Never free enough to find
I wish something would break
Cuz we're running out of time

Billy the Kid ran past the open gates, inviting friends and employing enemies. He'd learned after several hours of research that the Malfoy Mansion, in its stupidity, had left the outskirts of the land without curses and traps. He brushed up against the fence and slunk his way towards the mansion.

. . . . . . . . . .

Padfoot stopped at the gates, unsure of himself. He pressed forward, and stopped again. There was something on the air. Lifting his nose, he poked around the scents and caught it again. A familiar foxhound, he smiled, was about. Dropping his nose to the dirt, he followed the scent.

. . . . . . . . . .

Remus sat by the fire, staring dreamily and rotating his glass between dry fingers. Everything had been so perfect. He chuckled to himself. Yes, everything had been perfect so many years ago. He had his friends, he had his family, and everything was tied together so neatly and so nicely. But now the Dark Lord was returning, Vala was missing, and he was running short on wine. Why did wine always have to go and do that, when you wanted it the most?

And now his glass was empty. What was that? He tipped it upside down and one last, lonely drop spilled unto his carpet; a carpet rugged with age, but reeking of bleach and scrubbing. He sighed and set the glass on an end table.

There was a pop and--

"What is this, National Drinking Day?" Fae asked sarcastically. Her hands reached her hips in a motherly sense, and she responded to his sigh. "Things are fucked in the Transcendental World again."

"Transcendental World?" he repeated disinterestedly, "What about this one?"

"Don't be ludicrous, Remus," she snapped, picking up a pace and crossing her arms. "When things are fucked in the Transcendental World it's not longer after they're fucked in this one."

"Haven't you ever heard of living for the moment?" he asked, trying to avoid her hardened gaze.

"Haven't you ever heard to plan for the future?" she asked accusingly. "What is with you, Remus? Are you drunk?"

Somewhere through his drunken stupor, it sunk that Fae was on edge. But for what, he couldn't guess. In the blink of an eye, Fae was over him, her steaming eyes pouring into his and burning a message into his mind.

She spoke with a sharpened edge. Each syllable cut nice and neat. "Events are to take place tonight, and those events will determine the future for you, for me, Romulus, Sirius, Saxon, and most of all, Vala. If you want to play numb to that, then you're less of a man than I thought."

Remus touched his hand to his forehead, an oncoming headache clouding his mind. "Fae… What are you talking about?"

Inhaling sharply, she sighed; her breath on Remus' face. She moved back, falling into a familiar pace. "There's a ball tonight, at the Malfoy Mansion--" she rubbed her temples, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Fae would have wrinkles, at a very young age, if she didn't learn to grasp unto things a bit tighter. "And something's going to happen…"

Remus moved forward, reaching the edge of his seat. "Fae, what's going to happen?"

In a whirl of fabric and temper, she turned on him. "I don't know, Remus! That's just the thing! I don't know anything!"

He stood up, grabbing hold of her shoulders. "Yes, yes, you do, you do know… Think, think hard…"

She pushed him away. "Don't you think I've tried? I can't see anything, Remus! All I see is clippings--any of it can happen, none of it can--The future is unpredictable!" Frustration eloped her, covering her with kisses of annoyance and spite.

Remus pressed harder, grabbing hold of her again. "Fae, calm down… What have you seen?" His touch was gentle but stern. "Fae… tell me what you've seen."

Fae blinked slowly, the pain eluding her. "I've seen horrible things, Remus… Horrible things."

. . . . . . . . . .

Shrill laughter and faces lit with the giddiness of colorful drinks in curved glasses and topped with fragile umbrellas filled the hall. A single somber face sat among the crowd, reclining lazily in a plated and laced seat. A house is a man's castle, and the king was not happy. His prized love had left him and even the craziest of jesters could not lift his spirits.

"She's a fine one… In the red robes," Saccade offered.

"A fine one for execution," Saxon breathed over the rimmed edge of a glass. He smelled of boredom, but even more than that, he reeked of bitterness. He'd lost himself. He'd lost himself over a girl, and now he was so far gone even the most charming of temptresses could not pull him back. "Seduction is a funny thing," he chuckled.

Saccade gave him his full attention, these days you were lucky to get a smirk out of the boy--let alone a chuckle. "How so?" he asked curiously, sipping his wine.

"It's a game where the women are just as equal as the men… Both can play just as well, just as rough… Just as nasty." A smirk crossed his lips, and he continued, "You can seduce a woman for twelve years. You can break her spirits, break her mind, and totally own her. You can play her like you played the others, only this one is easier… This one actually trusts you. Then one day you wake up," and now you gave a look of false surprise, "And you suddenly you realize you're the one that's been seduced. She's played the game better than you; you've lost… You've lost everything you ever owned, and here we are." After a brief moment of examining his glass, he sighed. "Here I am…"

Saccade blinked slowly. "Are you saying Vala played you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in pointed misunderstanding.

Saxon moved so fast Saccade barely believed his collar was in the man's hands. If it weren't for the gripping, shaking hands and Saxon's pale face bearing into his own, he wouldn't have. "I'm saying she tricked me!" he shouted. "I'm saying she fooled me into believing she was fragile and helpless!" The guests fell silent, as often is the case when a fight breaks out in a Malfoy crowd. Guests and friends fade into the shadows, their eyes darken and a low, cruel smile twists their lips. "She came to me without a family! Without a home and without a history! She was nothing! But I took her in! I made her a Malfoy! What else could she want?" He threw Saccade back; he straightened himself and did a half circle. He shot persistent glances around the room, daring for someone to answer, pleading for someone to reply. "What else could she want?" he repeated. The crowd was more silent than ever before. Never before had so many of them been put on trial at once. "Well?"

"Perhaps she wanted her freedom," a voice chimed in behind him.

He swung to meet the eyes of the traitor. The liar and fool. "What did--" and he fell silent upon meeting them.

"What is it?" Vala asked, her ear angled towards him and her voice ringing of confidence. "Did you really believe wealth and infamy could hold her? Did you really believe that could steal her heart away?" With every word she stepped forward. She stepped in a slow, menacing way. "Did you honestly believe you had broken her?" she asked unbelievingly, a faint laugh on her lips. "Did you think you steal me?" She paused for a moment, but he did not answer. "Oh no, Saxon Malfoy, the circumstances were quite different. I came to you as a young girl with a broken heart." She dipped her head slightly, the remembrance of it escaping her in a light breath. She looked up at him, her eyes a piercing shade of green. "I was a fool," she admitted, "I made my mistakes." She stepped closer. "But don't you think that I was broken. Don't you dare think that you healed my wounds… gave me a life and gave me a name. You took those from me," she accused. "You took my life away and discarded it, just as you discard all beautiful things. You wanted to lock me up into a small jewel box, tie me up with silk and hide me away from the world. And I allowed it. I let you abuse me, but not anymore…" her breath fell on his lips. "Even the sickest of birds can sing again," she whispered, "And I will fly."

Saxon's eyes narrowed and his words clipped dangerously. "You are my property."

Vala pulled the wedding ring off her left ring finger. She held it in a closed fist above their heads and said, "I have no right to this, and you have no right to my heart." And dropped it. The gold chinked against the marble and rolled two feet before tipping on its side in retreat. "I'm leaving." She turned from him, fabulous yards of fabric swinging about her. He grabbed her bare wrist.

"I think you misunderstood," he said in a slithering, low voice. "Your heart may never be mine, but your body is. I own you." He pulled her into him and smelled the scents in her hair. He bent his head and whispered into her ear. "You will always be mine. Escape now," he said, one hand wound around her waist, another trailing down her body. "Run away with your long, luscious legs… Let the wind carry you away… But I will find you. You will never escape me… Till death do we part."

"Your own personal death omen," she hissed, bringing the knife up into his ribcage.

. . . . . . . . . .

"She stabbed him," Fae whispered, the stale cigarette falling from her lips.

Remus stared. "Did she kill him?"

Fae and Remus confirmed a shared horror.

"She'll be locked in Azkaban for sure!"