Heaven Sent

Petrol and Chlorine

Sinking through dark black holes
It's never gonna end
Open gash in my ribcage
It's never gonna mend

Take another picture of the wall
Sinking deeper every time I fall

Each day ends quicker
And my mind gets slower too
As my life just fades away
I wouldn't have a clue

Take another draw out from the shelf
I'm too weak to do it by myself

Though you had the world at your feet
You could see it I was blind
Had the perfect job called life
You didn't like it you resigned

Brain's a square of grass
Growing on petrol and chlorine

On petrol and chlorine
You know just what I mean

Petrol and Chlorine- Silverchair

-----

She was only half awake, sinking into the feather mattress beneath her, sunlight painting designs across her night dress. Moisture dripped off her body, the droplets rolling down her forehead. Early in the morning and it was already ridiculously hot.

Propping up on her elbows, Lydia looked over to her clock that read six o'clock. In her mind it was far too early too get up, but would she fall back into the pillows, giving way to slumber? No, today was the first day of August, and there was just too much to do downstairs.

She sighed, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyelids, attempting to remove any sleep leftover. Kicking her lanky legs off the bed, she stood up. The tattered nightdress she wore, once white, was yellowed and much too small for her. She pulled it down harshly, before heading down the hallway to the washroom. She quickly proceeded through her daily routine, throwing on another plain black skirt and white blouse.

Stepping into the tiny closet her father called a kitchen, she rummaged through the cabinets, searching for something edible, and failing brutally. The only objects in there were a few random potion ingredients of her father's, and (much to her own disgust) a dead cockroach. Her nose twitched as she snatched it up and threw it away with scrap piece of parchment. It seemed as though she would have to go without breakfast this morning, much to her stomach's dismay that was now grumbling. She hadn't eaten anything last night as punishment for misplacing a book in the wrong shelf and causing her father and his customer a great deal of grief.

It was a rather unpleasant thought, going without food for any longer. Maybe she would be able to slip out and find an open restaurant or café to eat at without her father noticing. She had some money, not a lot, but some. She would just be careful what she ordered.

Lydia crept downstairs, looking for any signs of her father who she found sitting at as desk. She slithered a round about way to the door, through the bookshelves, trying not to gain her father's attention. Silently, she slipped through the door and out into the Alley, which was bustling with the rush hour of people of all different kinds heading to work. She easily fell into the crowds, swallowed by the different colors, making it hard for her to spot.

Having lived above the Alley for her whole life, Lydia knew the geography quite well. There was a small café of sorts a few shops down that she was sure was open for breakfast. If not, there was always the Leaky Cauldron.

Soon, the restaurant came into view, a dark, small building on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. A black sign swung over Lydia's head in the breeze, ornamented with the carving of a melancholy bird under spidery, forest letters: The Augurey's Nest.

Through the stained glass windows, she could see some movement and dim lights. Deciding it must be open she moved over to the door. As she reached out to grab the handle, another hand beat her to it, and pulled it open for her.

"Thank you," she said, looking back to the person who held the door. Behind her was a man of tall stature, long blond hair flowing down his back. He wore robes of the finest quality, holding himself proudly. Somehow, Lydia had already found respect for this man.

"You are quite welcome," he said politely, giving her a charming smile. She smiled back and stepped through the door way. It was cool inside, much to her relief, and dimly lit by green, floating candles. The floor was done in a dark mosaic and the walls a deep shade of green.

A waitress with dressed in green and black robes promptly came over to her.

"Table for one?" she asked.

"For two, Ms. Lachlan will be dining with me today." The man said. Lydia looked at him in confusion, and unease. Who was this man and how did he know her name?

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, right this way," the waitress said, leading them over to a nice table in the corner. Mr. Malfoy pulled out the chair for Lydia and she sat down stiffly in it. Malfoy was a great pureblood family. What would he want with her, a half-blood for that matter?

"The regular, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, of course, and some for my friend also," He said, sitting down.

"Your meal should be ready momentarily," she nodded, and walked away to a door on the other side of the room. Lydia's gaze followed her, before turning back to Mr. Malfoy who was blatantly staring at her with his stormy grey eyes. She returned his stare nervously, trying her best to look somewhat dignified.

"I wish to thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for inviting me to share a meal with you," she said politely. He smirked at her.

"It was no problem at all, my dear. Tell me, how are you?" he drawled.

"I'm well… and you, sir?"

"Oh, Ms. Lachlan, this isn't about me. It's about you."

"Of course…" she said anxiously. He was somehow no longer the dignified man who held open the door for her. He was odd and somewhat disturbing. His presence was starting to make her very uncomfortable.

"How is your work at Flourish and Blotts?" he asked, interested.

"It's fine."

"Good, good, and your father's been treating you well, has he?"

"Yes."

"You seem to have grown quite a bit since last I saw you." He pointed out. Lydia nodded, but was sure she had never seen him before today. "Excited for school, I'm guessing? I hear you have quite the knack for History of Magic."

"Yes…I-"

"Two cups of English tea and two orders of sausage and raison toast." The waitress said, plopping down a two plates of the described meals.

"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said. The waitress gave a short bow and walked to another table to take an order. Mr. Malfoy took a sip of tea before turning back to the conversation.

"Tell me, how much do you know about the Giant Wars?" he asked with genuine curiosity- almost too genuine.

"Quite a lot actually. I've been able to get a hold of some scripts from the early 1800s narrating the Wars themselves," she explained, as he nodded along.

"These scripts… how did you come across them?"

"Well, just here and there…" she said vaguely. He nodded again, sipping his tea once more.

"Yes…" Reaching into his robes, he took out a silver pocket watch and opened it, reading the time with a cluck of his tongue, "Oh, dear… I'm afraid I have to be on my way."

"What time is it, sir?" she asked, worriedly. She had barely talked to the man. How much time could have passed? Would her father have noticed her absence?

"It's about seven o'clock, and I am afraid I have an appointment at the Ministry… here, take this to pay for the meal, will you?" he said, standing up and handing her a velvet bag of coins.

"That's really not nesse-"

"Posh, don't be absurd. Take the money. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," she said taking the bag, "I had a pleasant time dining with you, sir."

"As did I, my dear. We really must do this again when I am not I such a rush. I really must be on my way…" he said, looking to the door.

"Please, let me not delay you any longer. And thank you, once more."

"No, thank you, my dear. I hope to be seeing you soon." He said, with a slight bow.

"Good-bye,"

"Farewell, Ms. Lachlan," he said, exiting the restaurant with his stylish gait. Lydia's eyes followed him out, not sure what to make of the man. He seemed so stylish and sophisticated, yet showing kindness to her… or was there more? How had he known so much about her? It was odd… and rather unnerving.

Turning back to her food, she filled her stomach hastily, not wanting to be late. The waitress brought over the bill and she paid with the money Mr. Malfoy had granted her. When she had supplied the payment due, she found there was still quite a bit of cash jingling in the purse. She sighed, being somewhat bothered by having to return it to him. She was not sure that she even wanted to speak with Mr. Malfoy again.

Maybe she wouldn't return it… she had been wearing her mother's old school robes for years. Why not get a new pair?

With that, she wandered down the pavement of Diagon Alley, back to Flourish and Blotts to be smothered by the must. It was really all she could do…

-----

"Lydia, it looks like your Hogwarts letter has arrived."

Lydia looked up from a stack of books to her father, holding a letter in hand. She smiled and jumped up, taking the note extended to her and ripping it open.

"Well?" her father asked, looking at the papers expectantly.

"Seven O.W.Ls," she replied, reading the paper, "Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Charms, History of Magic, Herbology, and Potions. I got Acceptable in Transfiguration and a Poor in Defense Against the Dark Arts." She finished with a frown, and looked to the ground. Mr. Lachlan shook his head, and just turned and walked away, muttering to himself in disgust. She stood for a moment taking it all in. A Poor in Defense Against the Dark Arts? How would she ever get into the Ministry with that on her manuscript?

Slowly and silently, she went to the textbook shelf, picking out all the books she needed in a glum manner. Occasionally, she would look over to see her father glaring at her, the disappointment apparent in his eyes. All she wanted to do was make him happy. He needed to be happy again. Ever since her mother had died, things had been different.

Carrying a new stack of books, she brought them upstairs and placed them carefully in her trunk. She would have to be getting the rest of her supplies soon, but she would leave that for another day. For now, she had to face the grim, oblivion of the shop and her father. Sighing, she headed back downstairs.

-----

Something was wrong.

Lydia put the book she had been reading down by her side. She heard it again, closer this time. Someone screamed. Hurriedly, she threw the thin sheets off herself and scurried to the window. What was happening?

She heard another scream, but it was soon muffled. She could not make out if it was a man or a woman. Moving the curtain back, she peered out through the glass. Suddenly, there was a flash of green light.

Silence.

Suddenly, she saw it. Rising slowly into the sky, polluting the stars with its unearthly glow was the Dark Mark. She had seen it only once before.

The night her mother died.

-----

Lydia did not sleep that night. She had lingered by the window only a little while more after she had seen the Mark. She stayed just long enough to see the random blurs of Death Eaters run past, and later the Ministry workers arriving in the Alley.

Returning to her bed, she looked over at her clock. It was a quarter past midnight, and her eyes would not close. She tried to sleep, telling herself the Ministry would take care of it, that the Death Eaters were gone, that she was safe. Five minutes later she had run downstairs to make sure the wards were up and the doors were locked. They were, like every night before, but she still had a sense of unease.

She wanted to talk to her father, to run to his bedroom as she did in a many a summer's storm long ago. She wanted him to sooth her fear, to tell her all would be fine. But she knew the truth. She knew he would never try to hide it, try to make it all better. It hadn't been that way for a long time now. Why did she wish so badly for it to be? Hadn't she gotten used to it, his coldness, his distance? Why did she ache for his well attention? She was far better off than most, whose parents were gone, whose parents they had never met, whose parents beat them, abused them. Why did she feel so worse off?

It is better to never have love than to lose it all together.

-----

When Lydia walked downstairs the next morning, she found her father being interrogated by a Ministry official. She stood against the wall, willing herself to hear the conversation.

"I was asleep," her father said. There was a grunt, then the scratching of quill on a parchment.

"Have you seen anyone suspicious in the shop here, Mr. Lachlan," the official questioned.

"Not by my standards, no,"

"Any odd going-ons in any of the other shops?"

"None that I know of,"

"How's your daughter?"

"What? She's- she's fine. I don't see how that has any bearing on the situation."

"Just wondering. I haven't seen her since Kath passed. She's going to Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes, she's a sixth year now," The more her father spoke the more her he seemed to want to be rid of the conversation, but the Ministry official kept on talking.

"That's great. She's a good student, I bet. Always a bright kid, that one. She still want to be an Unspeakable?" he asked.

"No, no, she's going to work in the shop,"

"But I mean, after she gets out of school, coz I could probably put a good word in for-"

"No, she will be working in the shop,"

"Oh, well, that should be a good job for her. Taking after her father…" The man sounded a bit disappointed.

"Yes, it should… is that all then?" Her father replied.

"Yeah, yeah it is… thanks for all your help, Mr. Lachlan,"

"Anytime, Mr. Dickenson," He said it anything less than polite. There were footsteps, and the bell on the door rang.

"Bumbling idiot," She heard her father mutter, and then his footsteps which suggested he moved behind the desk.

Thinking over what she had just heard, she frowned. She remembered Mr. Dickenson. He had always been so nice to her, especially when they had taken her to the Ministry for questioning. He had even inquired about her. She didn't understand why her father had mistreated him, but then again, things had changed.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. Her father would never let her become an Unspeakable. She had never brought it up to him in fear that he would be upset, but to her him tell someone else it was out of the question was distressing. She didn't even want to work in the shop now. Why would she want to after Hogwarts? Would she never leave here, forever encased by the old tomes that held her prisoner? Sighing again, she slowly walked down the remaining stairs, stepping into the middle of the shop.

"You'll not be going out today," That was her greeting. She nodded.

"What shall I do about the rest of the supplies I need?" Lydia asked. Tomorrow was September first. She mentally berated herself for procrastinating. Now, she may never get her things. What about those new school robes she was planning on getting?

"It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous? There are Ministry people everywhere! What criminal in his right mind would attempt to kidnap me?" She asked, receiving her father's glare.

"Are you talking back?" he hissed. She looked to the ground.

"No, sir," she replied meekly.

"What was that?"

"No, sir," she said louder. She looked up to see her father's nod before he moved to the back room.

"Victor Jones was murdered last night, in case you were wondering," he said, walking. Lydia frowned.

"I was wondering actually. He was a muggle born?" Mr. Lachlan stopped and turned to see look at her, an unfamiliar emotion showing through his eyes- fear?

"A half blood," he corrected. She looked at him, feeling the same fear growing in her chest. A half blood? The Death Eaters didn't go after half bloods, only muggle borns, right? Why were they suddenly killing them? "They want their world to be pure. They will kill anyone who does not meet their standards, including you… I can't have you prancing around up and down the Alley anymore. These are dangerous times and you may well be a target." Her father answered for her. She nodded.

"That still doesn't help the issue of my school supplies. I need to get them by the end of the day… can't you come with me… just to be sure I'm alright?" Lydia asked hesitantly. She was getting bolder after her father's show of some affection.

"No, no I won't be able to go with you. Someone has to look after the shop. No, I'll not be going with you," All traces of the kind emotion that had been in his voice. He was the same as he always was. It was foolish to think for a change.

"What if I went out with Elle? Surely I would be safe-"

"NO! You will no more of that little whore! Just yesterday I saw her chasing after Sirius Black! Sirius Black! A blood traitor! I don't want you hanging out with the wrong people, Lydia! You can't draw attention to yourself! They came after your mother and they'll come after us if you just take one step out of line!" He spat fiercely, pronouncing each word profusely as he always did when he was angry.

"But-"

"And don't talk back to me! I'm getting very irritated with your attitude of late. You think you can just say whatever you want, whenever you want. It doesn't work like that!"

"I sorry," she said staring to the ground. Mr. Lachlan rubbed his jaw and looked at her, speaking more softly,

"You should be, and I know it's hard for you to do what I request of you, but I'm only doing it to help you. It's for your benefit, not mine."

"I know,"

"I just can't let you lose, not in times like these, not with him out there," he said.

"I understand, Father,"

"Good, I'm glad… and don't worry, I've arranged someone to take you out shopping for your things." He added, walking over to the desk and picking up some papers. Lydia stood in confusion.

"Who?" she asked, as her father looked up at her.

"He's a fine boy, in your year at school, I do believe. Severus Snape, I think you know him." He said casually.

"Snape? You're sending me off- alone- with Severus Snape? He'll probably murder me before we make it to Gringotts!" she said in disbelief. Was he actually going to make her spend the day with that lunatic?

"Lydia," her father warned, but she paid no heed. This was too much. There was no way she was going out with Snape!

"Are you mad? You won't let me go shopping with Elle, but you'll have me dragged along by that- by that DEATH EATER!" Of course, she didn't now for a fact that Snape was a Death Eater, but she had heard quite a bit about him to guess that he was one or about to come one at least. She wasn't going to put herself in the hands of a boy who knowledge in the Dark Arts excelled beyond the DADA teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Hawkins.

"I can assure you I am no Death Eater," hissed a dangerous low voice from behind. Lydia's face dropped and she turned around slowly.

"Hello, Severus," she said miserably.

----

A/N

So, what did you think? I want some input on if you like where the story is going. I swear that there is going to be more Snape in the future. I just need to get all the beginning rubbish out of the way. The story is not going to focus so much on Lydia once it gets going.

Thanks to my great reviewers. It is completely appreciated. In fact your review got be motivated to go and write some more, so if people want me to update quickly, you're going to have to review. I know, I'm horrible.

Please check out my other story, Storms on my author page. It's a Draco/Ginny fic if you're interested.

And now, since I am not above begging for reviews.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!