Chapter Sixteen: The Balance Shifts

Author's note: Credit for the theme and title of this chapter goes to The Loaf, my beta reader, best friend, and hetero-life-mate.

It was an arduous tale to tell, especially with her head pressed to a cold, stone floor and death itself hanging in the air over her head like an executioner's axe, but she managed to complete it with as few fabricated details and embellished facts as possible. The trick in lying to Voldemort lay in not lying at all, but telling as much of the truth as was prudent, then putting a light spin on those facts to twist them into the proper shape. In the end, she felt she'd pulled together a fairly convincing tale of Severus nursing her back to health at the request of Dumbledore for the purpose of cleansing the school, which he knew anyway, then added details of Severus slowly and subtly drawing out the truth of her continued allegiance to the Dark Lord.

As she spoke, she closed off most of her mind and spoon-fed him as many memories from her recent time with Severus as would enhance her story and convince him of her honesty, especially their first conversation in which he feigned his reasons for freeing her. If it worked, she would weep with joy; if it didn't, she would at least die with well-warranted pride in her own cunning. She concluded with a round of praise for Severus who had spent the past week convincing her to conquer her fear and doubt and return to her master's side where she belonged and where she would be needed in the coming war.

Finally, having utterly run out of things to say, she fell silent, and placed her future in the hands of Fate. It was a long while before Voldemort spoke.

"Severus has ever been faithful to me," he began, "and, once more, he proves his usefulness. I shall be certain to reward him for his service."

With that, she finally remembered how to breathe.

It was going to be alright.

"You, on the other hand," he continued with a quiet fury that hitched her breath quite painfully in her lungs, "openly challenged me and escaped without retribution. There is someone here who should like to speak with you about that oversight.

"Lucius," he purred, as he often did when addressing a favorite, "do come forward."

A rustle of expensive robes and the soft tread of a delicate step in fine boots circled around her and stopped at his master's side.

"I believe that we have an account to settle with this woman," he said softly.

"Indeed we do." His cold, drawling voice, promising pain with every syllable, shivered along her spine and left her feeling as if she'd been bathed in ice. "The punishment for desertion is death, Master. What do you wish of me?"

Again, there was a pregnant pause in which she viciously fought the urge to squirm. Finally, he spoke.

"She returned to me freely," he said reasonably. "I am therefore willing to consider her an insurgent rather than a deserter."

She could almost feel Malfoy's disappointment.

"Still," Voldemort added swiftly, "her debt to me has accrued sixteen years of unpaid interest."

"Yes, Master," Lucius agreed eagerly.

"Make me proud, Lucius."

"It will be my honor, Lord."

With a single, dreaded word from the Dark Lord's right hand, Emily's body split open with agony, and she screamed. In a night pregnant with possibility, suddenly everything was peeled away leaving nothing but the pain, which was followed, more quickly than she dared hope, by welcome darkness.

An instant later, the peace of oblivion was stolen away and despair washed over her like a black wave as she curled into a shivering, sobbing ball of misery and tried to fill her lungs with air.

An inappropriately composed voice fell on ringing ears from above. "Not even a shadow of the woman she was, is she Lucius?"

"She's become weak, Master, uselessly so." A fine leather boot wedged itself under her side and rolled her over, the jarring movement tearing a cry of pain from her burning throat. "Pathetic," he remarked, almost sadly. "Shall I dispose of her?"

There was a heavy silence in which Voldemort, much to Emily's horror, apparently weighed the proposition. She dug deep for a reservoir of strength, pulled herself to her knees and crawled back to her master to lie prostrate at his feet, her heart pounding wildly. As awful as torture could be, particularly under Lucius Malfoy's practiced hand, she had no desire to end it with her death.

"Master, please no," she begged. "Sev's potions take time, but I'm stronger every day." A trembling hand reached for the hem of his robe and brought it to her lips. "Have mercy, Master."

"Mercy?" he hissed venomously. "Remove your hands from my robe," he demanded coldly, and she obeyed without hesitation. "No, Miss Grey. You search for mercy in a man who has none. Lucius, it would seem that our friend requires a bit more direction... a reminder, if you will, of our way."

"No!" she screamed before she could stop herself. Her panicked breathing was a cadenced roar in her own ears as Lucius approached once more. Wholly unable to control the visceral response, she tried to crawl away on shaking limbs, sobbing, pleading inanely for forgiveness. Voldemort stepped back from her advancing form just as Malfoy's curse turned her pleas into tortured screams... until darkness claimed her once more.

But, she was allowed no rest. As soon as the world disappeared under the blanket of oblivion, Lucius dragged her back into torment. Endlessly, it seemed, the cycle continued: unbearable pain, then peace, then pain again until the taste of blood filled her mouth and she collapsed in a pool of her own vomit, drenched in sweat and too exhausted to even free the tears that begged release.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she tried to curl her body, waiting for the next wave of torment.

Instead, the most welcome words she'd ever heard came from somewhere behind her.

"That will do, Lucius," said Voldemort. Then, "Now, Emily," he added, his voice serene. "I do hope that we understand one another."

Having lost her voice ages ago, she was left with no recourse but to nod, the movement of her face smearing the vulgar contents of her stomach, causing her to gag. Thankfully, there was nothing left to purge.

"Good," he said softly, almost kindly. "Then we will end the lesson here. A wise Death Eater would make certain that we never need discuss this again... Lucius, attend to her."

In half a moment she was cleaner than she'd been when she arrived, her skin tingling as if she'd just given it a thorough scrubbing. Any other time, she would've laughed. Leave it to Lucius to have a cleaning spell as intense as his Cruciatus.

With surprising gentleness, he knelt and pulled her into his arms, quietly reassuring her when she cried out in pain. As she rested against his shoulder, he held a small bottle to her lips. She gave a subtle sniff and recognized the smell as that of a powerful restorative. This she drank greedily, no longer caring about the humiliation of her helplessness. It mattered very little in the face of feeling the pain in her body begin to fade. With dizzying speed, what little strength she possessed returned to her and the haze cleared from her vision.

"Better?" he whispered gently.

She gave a small nod, even managed a smile, knowing that the worst was over.

"Can you stand?" Again, she nodded, and he helped her struggle to her feet.

She was unprepared, she knew, for the rush of emotions that now threatened to bring her to her knees once more as she faced her master for the first time in sixteen years and contemplated what her return to him would mean. More for her own comfort than reverence, she kept her eyes lowered as he addressed her quietly.

"You have not yet paid your debt to me, child, but I will consider this a worthy beginning," Voldemort stated, his tone kind, almost fatherly, the way it had been when she'd first come to him years ago. She felt an inexplicable rush of gratitude for it, and for him. It was an honor, really, that he would allow her to return. Most would have been tortured to death, just as her father had been.

"You will never disobey me again, will you?"

"No, Master," she managed to whisper.

"Look at me."

Swallowing the lump that wouldn't seem to go away, she lifted her face to his blood-red eyes, barely stifling a gasp when she saw him. She wasn't the only one who'd changed.

A skeletal, bone-white hand reached up to caress her face, sending a series of shudders down her spine. Then, inadvertently, the shudders ceased and were replaced by something altogether different: the memory of her former devotion, a shadow of adoration in her mind. Being touched so tenderly by this creature of almost unmatched power was an honor beyond reckoning, one she did not deserve.

Letting slip a single tear, she leaned into his caress and turned her head to press her lips to his palm in a delicate, lingering kiss. "Master," she whispered adoringly.

Voldemort smiled, a thin curving line of approval at the affectionate gesture.

"You have changed, child. You are weak, and of no use to me," he explained like a patient instructor. "But, your master can rid you of your lamentable frailty. Would you like that? To be restored beyond your former glory?"

Emily started. This was a contingency she had not anticipated in her wildest dreams. When Voldemort promised punishment, he delivered. It was the same with any other promise he made. For all his faults, he was unerringly honest with his followers. Emphatically, she nodded, too moved to speak and beyond relieved at the look of satisfaction on his serpentine face.

"And what will you give to me in exchange for this gift?"

For the first time since she'd come, she answered with absolute sincerity. "Whatever you ask of me, Master."

Voldemort stepped back, still smiling lightly. "Lucius, bring our newest guest to me."

With a reverent bow, he vanished, returning less than a minute later with a dark, heavily-muscled man, standing impressively tall and straight despite his bloodied, swollen face and a wand at his back.

"Emily Grey," Voldemort began, gesturing grandly, "Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the most powerful aurors in the Ministry... but not the wisest. The wisest now belong to me." Pacing slowly, he circled the huge wizard who was now glaring down with utter contempt. "This one foolishly refused a most generous offer."

"It's a great honor to be called a fool by one such as you, Riddle," the man returned, his voice rich and deep and unwaveringly calm.

Voldemort only chuckled. "I could almost bring myself to miss you, Kingsley, but tonight your death will be of great use to me."

The auror stood, unmoving and, for all appearances, unmoved.

Emily was impressed despite herself.

"Tonight," Voldemort began, "the balance shifts a little more in my favor, as it has done every night since my return to power. Tonight, one of his dies, and one of mine is reborn."

A courtly nod to Lucius, and the auror was on his knees, immobilized there.

"Kneel before him, Emily," Voldemort ordered coldly.

She did as she was bid, suddenly very wary of the situation. She was no stranger to dark ritual and knew the stirrings of one when she felt them. The air had already begun to thicken with the power of the Dark Lord's intention. This brave man was about to die for her sake, and she was far from comfortable with the idea. There were no options at this point, though, except open defiance and she would never, ever risk that again. If Severus could sacrifice her father for the sake of appearance, then she could damn well sacrifice this stranger. Her eyes darted up to his stern face, then back to her master, waiting for further instructions.

Lucius Malfoy approached first, unsheathing a wicked blade from somewhere inside his robes, and with it, calmly sliced a long, deep furrow in the auror's wrist. He didn't even flinch, Emily noticed with awe. The action was repeated with Emily, who released a sharp hiss as he opened her vein. Reflexively, she pulled away, but Lucius held her in an unbreakable vice. Silently, he brought the wounds together, intertwined their fingers, and bound their wrists tightly with a spiraling sweep of his wand, then crouched down beside them.

"Emily Grey, do you accept this sacrifice for your restoration?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off before she could begin. "To him, Emily," he said firmly, indicating Kingsley with a brief nod of his fair head.

She ground her teeth, understanding that she needed to be fully invested in this man's death for the spell to work, and turned her head to see his dark eyes boring into her with undisguised loathing. Ah, she thought regretfully, one of Eric's old friends no doubt.

For a moment, she felt a pang of deep regret, then he curled his lip in disgust. Narrowing her eyes, she answered resolutely. "Yes. I accept this sacrifice."

Voldemort stepped forward, then, a smile of triumph on his face, and began to speak.

As soon as the first words left his mouth, the auror trembled, his hand shaking as the life and power slowly bled from his body; and Emily stiffened as a sweet warmth rose deep within, her body ripe and open to all that spilled from him. The power swirled around and within her, and she shivered in response to its caress, aching for more.

She was not denied. With each cry of pain and dismay from the man, the woman cried out as well, now panting for breath as the glorious sensations began to swell to an unbearable climax.

Suddenly, the auror collapsed, drawing her joined body down atop his as his breathing became more shallow, the sweat beading, then falling like dark rain down his swiftly-graying skin. Watching his eyes glaze over, Emily lost all sense of self and fell screaming into a whirling pool of ecstasy. All time and space disappeared, and she convulsed wildly with the sudden rush of power as the last vestiges of life left his body.

With a final, violent shudder of savage ecstasy, she threw back her head and howled into the darkness, the sound of her master's chanting ringing in her ears as the wound on her wrist closed, sealing the newfound power within.

She was still reeling when she apparated back to Severus' small estate. The power felt as though it was more than a part of her. It felt as though her entire existence was defined by it, that she had become that power, and it was almost more than she could handle. Nothing, nothing mattered to her more than cradling this new intensity within her.

The sudden, sharp crack of an apparation turned her on her heel to face the new arrival, and she inhaled sharply at the surprise of seeing Lucius Malfoy standing before her.

"Didn't I just leave your party?" she quipped with a wide smile.

"Just a moment more of your time, Miss Grey," he said unsmilingly, his wand already moving. She tensed as he spoke before recognizing the concealing charm. It didn't mean that she was safe, per se - after all, he wished to hide what he was about to do from prying eyes - but if he hadn't killed her outright, he probably wasn't going to. Lucius was extremely forthright in his dealings with his fellow Death Eaters, just like Voldemort.

She waited humbly, eyes downcast, for him to continue, which he did in short measure - after he closed the distance between them with a few, decisive steps. She tensed uncontrollably, her fingers twitching by the place at her hip where her wand usually rested.

"Relax, Emily," he said calmly. "Had I come to kill you, you would be dead."

She smiled, then, relieved at the revelation, and he returned the deed faintly.

"Then, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from my master's right hand?"

"Just this: I know that Severus Snape is spying for Dumbledore." Emily carefully molded her features into a mask of indifference. "I see that you do not deny it," he continued soberly. "That's very wise of you. I am not fond of being lied to."

She stood frozen to the spot, just listening as her heart's blood pounded in her ears.

"Fortunately for Severus," he continued, "the Dark Lord refuses to even acknowledge the idea. He's quite taken with the potions master, and we spent many hours discussing my "false accusation" when last I mentioned it. I was under the care of my entire team of Mediwizards for a week afterward," he said, visibly shaken by the memory.

Emily understood. She had never been tortured by Voldemort himself, but she'd heard that Lucius had perfected the curse with personal instruction from the Dark Lord, himself, and Lucius could kill a man within a few minutes when he allowed the curse to continue unabated. She, herself, had spent enough time under Malfoy's wand, tonight being a noted example, to understand how horrible those memories could be.

"I must accept that our master will not hear the truth about Severus," Lucius continued, a slightly bitter edge to his voice. He moved even closer, then, assessing her with his unwavering gaze. "It is a difficult thing, Emily, to watch an old friend betray you - to see him change, year after year, into a man you do not recognize, to lose all of his joy, sacrifice all the pleasure his position has to offer... in order to behave like some pretentious, self-righteous weakling who lacks the common sense to see where that path is taking him.

"And, in the end, it will all be for nothing. Everyone he's killed to protect his secret, all the lies he's told, his deception, will be dragged into the light and revealed to all. Then, our master will see the truth, and I will be rewarded with his punishment." There was a feverish light in his gray eyes, now, as he continued. "And, I will never let him die, Emily, or sink into the peace of insanity. He will suffer for as long as I have breath. I will make certain of that.

"I have come to you, now, to ask you this one question." He searched her eyes carefully, leaning so that his fair hair fell in a curtain of light over his shoulder between them. "Where do your loyalties lie, with the traitor you love or with the master to whom you have sworn allegiance? Ask yourself who will assure your place in the world when the war is over."

He took her hand in his own and held it tightly.

"Don't answer me, now. Give yourself time to see how quickly we progress, how quickly the other side begins to fall. It won't be long, Emily. And, if you are on the wrong side when the last spell is cast..." He hesitated as a look of true pain shadowed his eyes. "I do not wish to do to you what I will be required to do."

Wordlessly, she nodded, not knowing what to say, how to respond to him. He was right, of course. Now that she'd seen Voldemort, felt his power once more, she had no doubt who would win this war. And Severus would suffer for his lack of loyalty. She had only two options, really, she could suffer with him or she could prevail. Perhaps, if she achieved a high enough position, she could convince Malfoy to at least kill him quickly... or she could change Sev's mind about Voldemort. Neither were very promising possibilities, at present.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to expect her to respond at all, and in the silence, he had lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lingeringly. "I am pleased that you have come home to us, my lady."

Her heart fluttered for a moment as he stepped back, gave a courtly bow, and disapparated.

Lucius Malfoy, all grown up, she thought... how intriguing.

Teenage Zombie: Yeah, the crap hit the fan and splattered all over the walls, but she at least took a paintbrush to it and smeared it into an interesting shape. You'll have to excuse the imagery, but I'm working on a painting for my friend's twenty-first birthday and I rather have the subject at the forefront of my thoughts right now. I like the way you assert that she's Emily Grey. It rather reminds me of Captain Jack Sparrow. I can see her swaggering up to Severus after an argument. "You're forgetting one thing, man. I'm Lady Emily Grey."

Sev lover: Oh, I'm with you. Severus is so shaggable when he's pissed! I swear he gives me chills. Thanks for the compliment. I would never wish to portray my beloved Sev as anything less than perfectly sexy at all times. Emily is a little off-balance, that's true. She's selfish, as well, far too selfish to see that anyone who holds her back does so for her own good. I rather see her as a rebellious child testing her parents' boundaries. She's soon to learn that pushing Sev to the limits of his is a terrible idea. Thank you for being caught up in the storyline. It thrills me to no end.

Sesshoumaru's Angel: Yeah. Severus does things to me, too... and Lucius. Lucius absolutely curls my toes! Draco is a hottie in training, definitely, but a bit young for me. In my last story, The Side I'm Always On', I gave my character the opportunity to stand in as a kind of big sister to Draco, and it was loads of fun! I'd love to take him out on the town and par-tay! Thanks for the encouragement with my heart's desire at work. She spoke to me at great length two days ago and I nearly fell to pieces. Gods! I'm such a coward! If I ever finish this damn book, I'll give you head's up so you can look out for it. Thanks for sticking with me!

Dianatyne: Oh, you're on the edge of your seat? Really?! I'm so happy! Yay for me! Hope this chapter resolved some of the tension. I'll fix a cup of mint tea with honey for you. No caffeine. You'll like it, I promise. But, if you could pass some of that apple juice, I'd be most appreciative. Man, I haven't had apple juice in a long time!

Captain Oblivious!: From my very first answer to your very first review, I've put an exclamation point at the end of your name. I have no idea why. It's some weird association thing, so I think I'll just leave it instead of erasing it if you don't mind. You can be my epic reviewer, expert in waffle-fu and the hundred meter snatch and dash for the pants of missing Godfathers. Though, just between us, I wouldn't try that with Marlon Brando. He's pretty tough. I'm so happy that you approve of Severus not forgiving her. I agree with you that it would be totally out of character for him to just melt at the first hint of apology. Sev's the type to make a woman suffer until he feels better about things. Then, maybe - maybe - he might approach, but more than likely, he'd make her come crawling to him. Damn, I love that in a man!

Lady Jenilyn: My poor little Jenny-Jen! I'm so sorry that things are so poopy for you right now! If I had a magic wand, I'd wave it in your direction and wish all the bad away. But, life's not like that. You have to go through the pain and I can only be here to hold your hand from a distance and whisper what little comfort I have to give. If you can't write, you can't write. I understand. My compassion for you does not ride on letters or reviews or updates. It lies in knowing what a wonderful woman you are, and how empty your life could be but for your own strength of character that I so admire. I'm always here if you need me. In answer to your review: I'm thrilled that you found the chapter exciting! Yes. She was a very bad girl, and Severus has every right to be royally pissed. Of course, if he has even the slightest reason to be angry, he'll snatch it and run with it. That's one of the things we love about him. Oh, I am so glad you mentioned Voldie! I was SO concerned that I would overdo him. You know from personal experience that it is far too easy to do so. And, frankly, I thought that giving him muggle-skin robes IN YOUR EXCELLENT FANFIC, 'MIRROR OF MY DREAMS' was a stroke of pure genius. Your whole scene with him was some of your best writing, and that's saying something. I hope that the rest of the Voldie stuff in this chapter was acceptable. You'll tell me, won't you? I trust your opinion. Feel better, moi petite! I miss you. You are always in my thoughts.

Quietude: God, reviews like yours are so fun!!! I love getting a rise out of my reviewers. It lets me know that the story's not completely boring. I hope that Emily's story-weaving, making Severus smell like a rose garden, was acceptable to you. But, you're right. She probably should've let Sev handle it. Unfortunately, what should be done and what Emily usually does are, more often than not, wholly unrelated. I couldn't agree with you more about torturing her. She makes me angry sometimes, too, but I can't let her go wandering around out of character. Hopefully the harsh dealings in this chapter sated your taste for blood for a little while. She paid a price for her folly, no doubt. Yes. I'll be continuing the Alex saga when I finish this fic. I shudder to give away details, but just to ensure that you'll at least give it a chance, I will assure you that, with the exception of a few memories, there is no Rose in this next one, just Alex and Sev and Lucius... and yet another OC who features rather prominently. Hope to see you there!