Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Hogwarts, damnit! Why must I repeat myself?! Roman's hers, I'm Roman's, and, for a bizarre twist, Thomas can be mine .:grins:.
Author's Note:A BIG thank you, and credit to Thomas for the flashback sequence - if not for you, love, I'd probably still be stuck, lol.
- - -
Nessa stared again at the strange note that had been owled to her.
"Meet me under the Weeping Willow near the lake next Friday at 2pm."
It was signed 'Thomas' – short and to the point, it told Nessa nothing about why she was, indeed, sitting under the Willow on a Friday afternoon.
Fidgeting slightly, she turned to Roman, sitting quietly beside her.
"Do you think he'll come?" she asked worriedly for about the sixth time, folding and unfolding the note.
"Pet, he's the one who asked you to come," Roman replied reassuringly, lounging back against the tree. "What reason could he possibly have for not showing up?"
"Certainly not one good enough," Nessa muttered, twisting her fingers together nervously.
"Well, then it's a good thing I'm here, isn't it?" Thomas' voice rang out, making Nessa jump as he ducked under the branches and stood in front of her, glancing at Roman and raising an eyebrow. "I was sort of hoping to talk to you by yourself," he added, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
Roman sat up, apparently about to throw a sharp retort at Thomas, but Nessa spoke up quickly.
"Look, Thom, it doesn't really matter if she's here – if she wasn't, I'd just find her later and talk to her. So, it makes sense for Roman to stay."
Roman grinned and nodded in agreement, leaning back against the tree again.
"Fine, alright, she can stay," Thomas said, sighing and sitting down on the ground. "Just don't murder me, or curse me or anything when I'm done, okay?"
"Thomas, I'm against violence, remember?" Roman drawled lazily, pretending disinterest and closing her eyes part-way.
Thomas snorted disbelievingly and turned his gaze back to Nessa, taking a deep breath.
"Okay, this is going to be really difficult to explain, so just…try not to interrupt."
He stared at the ground a moment, clearly organising what he was going to say – Nessa remained silently, merely watching him, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.
"That day in Hogsmeade, when you were telling me about Lessien," he began, looking up at Nessa and holding her gaze, "it wasn't the first time I'd ever heard her name. Lessien's not exactly a common name, especially not among the…" He paused and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, I'm not explaining this particularly well. Let's just say…I have contacts with the Death Eaters – I'm not part of them, per say," he added truthfully, "but I do…know them, some of them quite well. Including a girl called Lessien – she is a Death Eater, just became one recently, but before then she was like me – attending meetings, learning…things, but without the Dark Mark. We've known each other for years, and right at the beginning, she told me about her background, that she didn't know who her real family was. I never thought much of it…until Hogsmeade, when you told me about a younger sister stolen from your family named Lessien. This Lessien's the right age, and to be honest, there's even a hint of you about her – not much, but enough to be noticed if you're looking for it. I went to see her earlier this week…"
- - -
Thomas sits by himself, throwing stones into a small lake behind the Dark Lord's base - he sighs.
"Merlin...I wish Ness was here…" he mutters.
"You mean your girlfriend," a familiar voice sounds behind him, voice slightly teasing.
He turns around and grins. "I can dream. Hey, Lessien..."
Lessien moves beside him and sits down, looking at his face. "You 'right?" she asks, pulling her cloak back from her face.
Thomas nods. "Fan-fucking-tastic..." he drawls, throwing another rock into the lake. The moon's reflection scatters from a perfect circle to a swirling pattern of white sparkly lines. Lessien looks at it - she seems rather silent. Thomas looks at her, quizzically.
"Now who's the silent one?" he asks with a smirk. She looks at him.
"Thomas......do...do I have a family..." she asks finally, her petite face serious. Thomas sighs slightly. "Lessien...That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, shifting his body so he is looking directly at her. "Yes, you do have a family," he announces, watching her carefully.
Lessien's face lights up. "I ...I what?!" she exclaims.
Thomas smiles. "You heard, Lessien. You're really Lessien Meneldur, if I'm correct, and you have a family - two of your sisters go to Hogwarts, the other one is a Professor there. Your sisters are called Arness, Merenwen, and the girl I talk about all the time, Nessa. Judging by how old you are, they are your older sisters," he says. "I'm not too sure on the parents yet. I haven't met them..."
Lessien's face goes from extremely happy to extremely miserable. "...Why didn't they...look for me?" she asks quietly.
Thomas shakes his head. "When you were taken, they used a memory charm on the family," he explains. "Only one still remembers, and that's Nessa – she's been looking for you for years, she's never forgotten you. I was talking to her only the other day, and she told me the whole story – she true-dreams of you…"
He suddenly feels himself get tackled. Raising an eyebrow, he feels Lessien hugging him, sobbing loudly. He puts an arm around her and looks back at the lake, listening to her cry.
- - -
"That's all I got chance to tell her," Thomas finished. "The Death Eaters have always protected the truth from her – one of them overheard me telling her about you, and I was…punished." He twitched his shoulders, a faint echo of the painful burning running down his back. "I told her to run, so that she wouldn't see anything – they'll leave her alone, they have no reason to believe she'll do anything with the information."
Nessa sat still, frozen by what Thomas had told her – he knew Lessien…she really was alive!
"Can I meet her?" she asked very softly. "I mean, without getting either of you into trouble…"
Roman sat up and stared at Nessa – Thomas had practically admitted to being a Death Eater, and Nessa seemed totally unfazed by it.
"Ness, you do understand what he's told you, don't you?" she asked, touching Nessa's shoulder. "Lessien's a Death Eater…he is almost a Death Eater…"
Nessa shrugged Roman's hand off, looking determinedly back at her friend.
"What he has told me is that Lessien's alive, and still human enough to feel emotion," she responded, dark eyes hard.
"Alright, fair enough – but what about him?"
"I don't care!" Nessa flared at Roman, glaring at her. "What's your problem with him anyway? He's done nothing to you personally – nothing!"
Roman stayed silent for a moment, an expression of pain flickering across her face so quickly it might have been imagined.
"Yes, he has," she replied evenly, meeting Nessa's eyes, "you just haven't noticed."
Climbing to her feet, she paused, merely looking at Nessa, and then turned on her heel, not really knowing where she was going, but so long as it was quiet and empty, she didn't care.
Nessa stared after Roman, her eyes narrowing slightly and her fingers picking at the hem of her skirt.
"Okay, so what did I just miss?" she mused quietly, a small frown crossing her face as she traced Roman's path with her eyes. Thomas decided to take it as a rhetorical question and sat there silently until Nessa turned her dark gaze to him thoughtfully.
"Am I missing something?" she repeated, watching him closely.
"Er…not so far as I'm aware, love," he hedged, shrugging lightly. He had a vague idea what Roman was talking about, but he sure wasn't going to be the one to tell Nessa.
"Right," she breathed softly and disbelievingly. Turning back to where she'd last seen Roman, she jumped slightly as she realised her friend had disappeared from view already.
"So, um…can I meet Lessien, without getting anyone in trouble?" she asked, slightly absently, dragging her gaze back to Thomas.
"I expect I can arrange something, yes," Thomas replied.
"Good," she murmured, again sounding absent. Clearing thinking, her eyes strayed again over to the last spot she'd seen Roman standing.
- - -
Roman paced back and forth, driven by some unseen force to keep moving.
"Damn, blast and confound it all," she exploded suddenly, expression somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "How can he-- ? And how come she-- ?"
Striding energetically about the room, she continued to muse and mutter, pausing occasionally as she stumbled across what might have been an answer, but was always follow immediately by a shake of her head and a continuation of the pacing.
'You could always tell her.' The thought stumbled across her brain so suddenly that she literally skidded to a halt. "Holy Satanica, I could too," she muttered, sinking to the floor and pursing her lips thoughtfully. "But…should I?"
Absently, she flicked her wand at a cushion, and watched blankly as it danced across the floor. "Should I, shouldn't I?" she murmured, tapping her fingers against the floor thoughtfully.
"Do you mind?" a voice said irritably, and Roman groaned, not wanting to look down. "Helloooo? You're kind of squashing me here…"
Sighing, Roman shifted backwards slightly, lifted her hands from the floor, and looked down reluctantly – the face-in-the-wall thing from the Charms classroom: she should have known.
"Why do you hassle me like this?" she asked resignedly, staring at the surprising expressive face in the floor.
"Because your father asked me to watch over you," it replied succinctly, wriggling its nose slightly.
"Dad asked you that?" she repeated, mind working overtime.
"I just said that, didn't I? Now, what's troubling you?"
"I don't want to talk about it with you," she replied with dignity, sniffing slightly and turning her head to one side.
"Sure you do," the face replied, its androgenous voice suddenly dropping an octave or two – it was hard to tell. Roman sat up straight, frowning slightly at the sudden change.
"Come now, surely you can recognise this old voice by now?" he – for it was definitely male by this stage – asked, his deep, gravelly voice pleasantly resonating about the room.
"Dad?" Roman asked, her eyes widening as she leant forwards to examine the face on the floor.
He chuckled. "Of course, who else were you expecting?" he asked, grinning widely. "Nehemiah informed me that you seemed troubled, and I, of course, had to check on you."
"Nehemiah? You mean that face thing actually has a name?"
"Naturally. But that's beside the point – what's the matter?"
Roman sighed and settled backwards. "It's Nessa and the new boy – I presume…Nehemiah's told you all about him?"
"Indeed – sounds like a right old b…"
"Anyway, Ness doesn't realise…anything. About…me, and my…yeah."
"Ah, yes, that would be awkward. You know the simplest solution, don't you?"
Roman raised an eyebrow and looked interested. "I wasn't aware there was a simple solution."
"Of course there is – just kill the boy."
"Dad," she replied with a sigh, "I might be the 'son' of Satan, but that doesn't mean I'm going to run around killing people."
"Bugger," Satan said, and she could almost see him clicking his fingers. "Here I was hoping you'd changed," he continued, obviously teasing.
"Dad, please – I could really do with your help here," Rome said softly, having smiled half-heartedly at his teasing.
"I know, munchkin, I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere. Honestly, I can feel it from here, and you know I'm a bloody long way away. My only advice," he continued, obviously trying to lift his face from the floor, "is… - damnit, this it the first time I've ever wished I'd put the rest of Nehemiah on here," he grumbled, scowling ferociously and causing the dancing cushion to squeak and hide in terror. Giving up, he looked back up at Roman. "Anyway, my advice is to talk to Ness – the worst she can do is remain as your friend," he finished, a shrug written clearly at the end of his sentence.
"But will she?" she asked Satan quietly, worry shining from her eyes. "What makes you think that she won't just run, run away from me and straight to Thomas?"
"Munchkin, I haven't met the girl, but she's known you for, what, twelve years now. She won't just abandon you, she wouldn't."
"I hope you're right, Dad," Roman sighed, resolving to talk to Nessa as soon as possible.
"You'll be fine, Rome, I know it," Satan said, his voice slowly fading and morphing back up the registers. "I love you, 'son'."
"I love you too, Dad," she replied, smiling slightly, before slipping back into her quiet thoughtfulness.
"So – did he help?" Nehemiah's unmistakeably cheerful voice rang out, the face carefully scrunching up, as though trying to rearrange itself slightly.
"Yes, he did," Roman said absently, staring at the trap door. Abruptly, she rose to her feet and headed for it, her expression firm.
"That's good, dear," came the reply as she slipped down into the passage below. "Darn it, why is it always so much more uncomfortable after he's used it?!"
Roman heard the frustrated cry as she closed the trap door. Smirking slightly to herself, she walked confidently down the pitch black passage, her mind made up.