A/N: Thanks to all the lovely people who have stuck by this and reviewed and grrr to those who haven't. Hopefully this fic will end up around 15-20 chapters if I'm really disciplined. Anyway – who's up for some nice messy angst? Knew you would be…

The introduction of professor Isla Kittson to her peers was tinged with unease despite its warmth. Many of those alongside her could remember her as a pupil and were disturbed by the suddenness of her return and the brutal, matter-of-fact manner in which she described her experiences. The Isla Kittson taught seventeen years ago by the likes of professors MacGonagall, Flitwick and indeed Dumbledore was no longer a silent, introverted agoraphobe who wandered around Hogwarts in a trance because that was the only way she could escape the torments inflicted on her by her fellow students. This was a stranger among their ranks, a stranger with inestimable power and an unfathomable personality. Save a few, most had no experience of demons or demonic magic, and for those few who had, their experiences were not of a pleasant kind. Isla Kittson looked, for the most part, like a normal person despite having eyes that were dazzlingly unnatural even when compared with Madam Hooch's amber cat-like eyes. However, no food appeared before her, and she showed no interest in eating or drinking. When spoken to her gaze appeared to bore directly into the eyes almost hypnotically while her own glittered and flashed. Outwardly she seemed no express few emotions, which gave her an air of possessing the serenity of an immortal. Her answers to any questions posed were calm and to the point, uncompromisingly honest but with the utmost politeness. Even so, Severus could not help thinking she gave very little away in her answers. In anyone this was a remarkable talent, but in the case of Isla Kittson it seemed she could have talked around the truth even under the influence of veritaserum.

The shock was still running like lightning in his blood underneath his facade of indifference and he found himself unable to hide completely his awkwardness. Of all the faces that could have come back to haunt him it was hers. Hers, the face that was such a touchstone for guilt. He had to get away, despite the knowledge that her eyes would follow him in his mind, reminding of the past he could not escape and the blood on his hands that still stained though no one but him saw it. He excused himself stiffly and retreated to his haven within the bowels of Hogwarts to check up on his potions stocks for the week. Finding himself short of Dreamless Sleep potion, he resorted to his old therapy of meticulous preparation of ingredients and precise blending. He had always found this potion a particular favourite to brew because of the calming effect its fumes produced, and the long, painstaking process that he knew by heart. The properties of this potion were going to be essential for the coming weeks; he could already feel the dark tendrils of memory creeping around his defences. Sleep was to be vital if he had to face not only students during these precarious times but also the resurrected Kittson.

Having nearly concocted enough potion to knock out a dragon, that is if you could get the bugger to drink it, Severus gritted his teeth against the sudden searing pain of Voldemort's summons. Now he wouldn't have time to let the potion cool properly, leaving him with an inferior product. Silently cursing, he tugged the cord that hung strategically by the door that let Albus know he was leaving and began to make his way out of Hogwarts.

Draco moved not without trepidation through Hogwarts' back corridors. Earlier he had received a message from his father in hiding, informing him that Voldemort wanted to see him. It was not something anyone looked forward to as such. Of course he'd met him before, he couldn't avoid it when for so many years Lucius had been Voldie's right hand man. However it was now that he was beginning to realise that the stakes of the game were being raised. Draco had no qualms about exploiting and intimidating people for his own amusement, not to mention bending the rules to his advantage. Killing people for no good reason was another thing entirely. He had heard the story of Severus' shadow, as Lucius had mockingly referred to Isla Kittson, several times and the sheer mindlessness and brutality of the 'experiment' just sickened him. So the girl had been annoying, perhaps more annoying than Potter but a little irreversible transfiguration was far more fun and involved less death.

Once outside he took a deep, steadying breath and summoned his broomstick. Why was he getting himself involved? To indulge in his chaotic instincts he told himself firmly. Do anything for the hell of it, play both sides at once, create confusion, piss everyone off and freak them out in equal measure. He knew his progress out of Hogwarts would probably not go unnoticed, but then he was not the only one leaving. There was someone striding fiercely across the grounds, undoubtedly Snape, who hated flying even though it was quicker than walking. Again Draco was reminded of another of his father's anecdotes of a time when James cursed Severus' broom, causing him to fall into the lake. Severus also hated getting wet, especially when the water was cold…

Hiding his broom, Draco disapparated in order to arrive before Severus did. Officially, he wasn't meant to be able to do this yet, let alone have a licence, but he was confident in this skill, having practiced it constantly throughout the summer as his family had been forced to move so often to avoid detection. The world cracked apart, an infinite flash of light that took only an instant. When it cracked back, he was no longer where he had been.

"Perfectly executed." Through some fluke or through the twisted humour of the cosmos he had arrived on his knees in front of Voldemort. He smiled despite the condescending tone of the comment. No one could get through his mask.

"My Lord, I have important news."

"Go on…" The dry rasp of Voldemort's voice echoed unpleasantly off the stone walls of the chamber.

"Today, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor arrived, she's…"

Crack

"Isla Kittson is alive, Lucius." Severus gained a small spark of satisfaction at Lucius reaction before he fell the floor in agony from Voldemort's cruciatus.

Lucius was not to avoid his wrath though,

"Lucius?"

"Master…" There was the barest hint of a tremor in his voice.

"Remind me again, what did you do with that one, and why do my instincts tell me that what your son and Severus were trying to say are related?"

Lucius swallowed hard, his ice cool composition failing him, "Uh, Isla Kittson? I…the list is so long, there's been so many through the years, Master."

"The demon possessed her, Lucius." Severus gasped from the floor. If Voldemort could have got any paler, that would have been the moment. As it was, he pinned the cringing former favourite to the wall, snarling,

"You allowed her to live?" Curse after curse slammed into Lucius' body, "Do you realise what this means?" Lucius was unable to reply, Voldemort's volley of rage fuelled magic had left him paralysed with unendurable pain. Released from the vice-like grip of his master, he slid bonelessly to the ground. Voldemort rose to stand over him.

"Enervate" Lucius groaned, spitting blood. The Dark Lord pinned him with outstretched wand, "Now, tell us all how you created this abomination and explain why exactly you were so stupid as to let it live." It seemed that Draco's initiation would have to be postponed…

Foof! Again, ta muchly to everyone who bothers to read and review this. Chapter Eight will follow shortly, since it is already half written.