Jesse: Your comment about Linda not being a Mary Sue has lightened up my day. As my first fics were plagued with those annoying creatures, now many times I introduce an original character I'm afraid she'll turn out into a Sue-monster. And as fo Darla's return, you don't have to wait anymore. And keep reading: there's still some more Darla coming...

Conangse: Yeah, I've missed writing about Connor and Snape too. But I think this chapter will make up for that, as it's full of Connor and Snape bits...

Chapter Twelve: Darla and Connor

During the dark, sun-less days that followed Christmas, Darla watched her child from afar many times. She watched him while he played with his friends in the snow, laughing and throwing snowballs at each other in the animated streets of Hogsmeade, always fearing he might get hurt or something. And she also watched him when in the evenings he walked hand in hand with the tall, greasy-haired man, sometimes chattering non-stop and other times in a peaceful silence.

He was happy. She had felt it before, back in Sunnydale, but she hadn't wanted to believe it until she could see it with her own eyes. So she'd practically forced Pryce to tell her where her son was after the whole Apocalypsys-thing was over and here she was now, wondering what to do next. She had decided to search for her son as soon as she had her soul back: to go for him, check how he was and then, what? Pick him up and raise him on her own?

She hadn't thought about that in a conscious level. All she had cared for back then was her child's welfare, his happiness. But now she could see he was all right she didn't know what to do. He was happy where he was. Did she have the right to take him away from there, from the people who'd taken care of him all this time? After all, what could she offer to Connor?

In spite of her not-so-new soul, she was still a vampire. A creature of the night, who couldn't go out in the sun, so she'd never be able to take him to the park or to attend school meetings. A creature of the night, which still had to drink blood and which would never age. She'd see her child grow up and become a man, she'd see her child age and turn old, but time wouldn't affect her at all. She'd see him die, and she would be walking on this land long after he had turned to dust. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine.

No, she had nothing to offer him. It didn't matter all she had gone through, because she still could not give him what he needed: a normal life. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't change her nature. No matter how much time came to pass, she'd always be a vampire. And vampires weren't meant to have children.

Connor would do better if he stayed here, with people who were just like him. People who could give him what she couldn't.

One last night. She'd watch her child for one last night, and then she would leave him.

Forever.

Connor had his eyes shut and an innocent expression on his face when Snape turned off the lights and closed the door. His expression didn't change until several minutes passed, and no sound was heard in the house. As if there had been some kind of signal, Connor's eyes snapped open, he pulled off the blankets and rose from bed at once.

He put his slippers and some robes on and, without turning on the light, he opened the door in silence and tiptoed downstairs. When he reached the hall, he grabbed his cloak and headed towards the door in the back, which led to the small garden. After putting on the cloak, he opened the door and exited the house.

He stood in the doorframe, wondering whether she'd come that night. Maybe she wouldn't and he'd done all this for nothing. If Severus caught him…

He folded his arms, feeling the chilling cold getting into his robes, and waited. He waited until his feet felt as they were frozen and his teeth chattered, while the icy wind hurt his face. She wouldn't come. He'd better go inside and forget the whole thing.

No way. She'd come, as she'd done every night since Christmas, when he had first caught a glimpse of her through the window. That night he thought he'd imagined it, but then he saw her walking down Hogsmeade streets, some meters away from him. She was wearing a long, dark cloak, with a hood that covered that most of her face. However, something in the way she moved – as if she were floating – had attracted his attention, and finally he'd caught another glimpse of her snow-white features. After that, he'd seen her almost every day when the sun was down, always hooded, always in the distance. And when night fell, he could see her through the window, standing alone in the darkness.

He wondered who she was, where she came from, why she did follow him. However, he hadn't said a word to Severus about it. He didn't know why but he wanted to keep it a secret. He was afraid that if he spoke about her, she'd disappear into thin air, like in the legend of the Dryad, back in Pylea. According to the myth, there was a benevolent spirit in the mountains that aided the travelers, as long as they didn't talk about her to anyone. If they did, the Dryad vanished and terrible things happened to them. Daniel had told him it was a silly fairy tale, that only angels aided people and that there were very few of those.

Connor wasn't sure whether it was a myth or not, but he was certain he didn't want her to disappear. It was strange, but he felt like he was attached to her somehow, that there was a strong link between them. They were connected, in a way he couldn't understand. He knew her, like he had never known anyone before.

Seconds extended into minutes and there was still no sign of her. He sighed. She wouldn't come. Maybe she'd vanished. Maybe she'd never existed.

Crestfallen, he turned towards the house. He'd just get into bed and forget the whole thing. Daniel was right. The Dryad was a fairy tale to fool naive people.

The wind was blowing harder than ever, making the windows tremble, especially Connor's, which the boy had left open. The window leaves began to swing. One of them hit a potted plant on the windowsill, which trembled dangerously. The wind blew harder, causing the leaf to hit the pot again. This time the potted plant fell…right to Connor's head, who was standing exactly below.

The pot would have probably smashed against Connor's head, provoking considerable damage, if a dark shadow hadn't appeared out of nowhere and caught the potted plant in midair. Connor repressed a shriek and jumped backwards, his senses alert, his whole body ready to fight if necessary, like Daniel had taught him.

The dark form, oblivious to this, carefully put the pot on the ground. It was a petite, slender form, wrapped in black clothes that swirled around with the wind. Slowly, very slowly, the form turned round and Connor glimpsed a familiar pair of sky-blue eyes under the hood.

'You!' he gasped out of breath, and his savior froze. 'The Dryad!'

As there was no answer, he blurted out:

'Or are you an angel?'

This time, a silvery, feminine laugh was heard. The hood fell on her back, revealing platinum hair and a delicate, young face. Her eyes were sparkling in amusement while her red lips had curved in a smile.

She kneeled in front of him, so their eyes were at the same level. He contemplated her and thought that she looked even more beautiful now that he could see her face-to-face.

'I'm no angel,' she whispered, and her words were almost lost in the nocturnal wind.

It was strange, but her eyes didn't look so amused anymore. Actually, now there was a trace of sadness in them and Connor wondered why. Her eyes look like mine, he thought. And yet, they were very different. There was something in them that Connor had never seen in his own eyes, something that, being as young as he was, he couldn't place. Someone older would have noticed that her eyes were pools of ancient memories and that she wasn't as young as she looked. The truth was that she was very, very old, and her eyes had seen far too much.

She raised a hand and softly pushed the hair away from his face. Her gentle touch felt like a wind caress and Connor stood very still, afraid that if he moved, if he spoke, it'd be gone.

Time had stopped around them. Darla looked at her child, mesmerized, trying to memorize every line, every little detail of his face. She had waited for so long to see him like this that she was afraid it might be just a dream. Maybe she'd blink and he'd be gone, leaving her alone in the dark. Maybe she'd blink and everything would turn back to the way it used to be.

She touched his face, caressing his smooth skin, just to make sure he was truly there. A shy smile curved his lips, a smile that was mirrored on her face. Neither of them spoke, both of them afraid that speaking might break the enchantment.

Darla didn't know how long they stayed that way, gazing at each other in silence, as words were unnecessary. She knew who he was, and deep down, he knew it too.

The wind was blowing all around them, and she noticed how his tiny body had begun to shake. She realised then how cold it was for a small child like him.

'Go inside, Connor,' she whispered, her voice a gentle caress on his ear. 'It's too cold here, and you should be in bed.'

He opened his mouth to protest, but Darla put a hand to his lips. He looked down, deflated, and turned to the house. She watched him walking away with a knot in her throat, and was shocked to feel her eyes filled with unshed tears.

When he reached the door, though, he turned round, hope shinning in his eyes.

'I'll come back tomorrow night. Will you be here?'

Darla stared at his expectant expression, at the hope in his eyes, and couldn't say anything other than 'yes'.

Something was wrong with Connor. He seemed to have lost interest in those things he'd been so excited about just a week ago, such as playing with his friends or Quidditch, preferring to stay at home instead. And it wasn't like he did nothing exciting when he was indoors: he spent most of the time gazing through the window, as if he were searching for something in the distance, a taciturn look on his face. That was when he wasn't having a tantrum. And these days, Connor was having a lot of tantrums for one reason or another. Snape hadn't a clue of what on earth was wrong with him, until he noticed the dark shadows under the child's eyes. It became obvious that the child wasn't getting any sleep, so he thought that might be the cause of the problem.

So he tried to give Connor a light sleep potion but the boy refused. Actually, Connor reacted as if Snape had suggested he drink poison. He had a tantrum (another one and counting) and from that moment on he sniffed suspiciously every drink Snape gave him, as if he thought that Snape would slip the potion in them (not that the idea hadn't come to his mind, but…).

He was becoming desperate. He hadn't a clue what the child's problem was, so he didn't know how to handle it. Once or twice Snape thought of asking Dumbledore for help, but there was something (pride, perhaps?) that prevented him from doing so. No, he'd find out what the problem was and solve it on his own, like he'd always done. He didn't need anyone's help.

Or at least he wasn't so desperate to ask for it yet.

Every night, Connor waited in his bed, fully awake, until he was completely sure that Severus was fast asleep. Sometimes it was a hard thing to do, because Severus was a nocturnal person, and Connor had to use all his will to prevent his eyelids from closing.

However, it was worth it. If he managed to keep himself awake long enough, he'd rise from bed in silence, put his shoes and cloak on, and go to the garden, where she'd be waiting for him.

She'd be wearing the same dark cloak, which would swirl in the winter wind, and her eyes would glitter at the sight of him, as a smile would curl her lips. The moonlight would make her silvery hair sparkle, giving her an ethereal air. However when Connor, who had always hated being cuddled, would run and throw himself in her arms, she'd feel more real than anything else would.

They'd sit on the bench, Connor on her lap, and sometimes he'd tell her about his day, and other times she'd tell him fantastic tales of princesses and knights, of dragons and magical swords. But many times they'd sit in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

Once or twice Connor had tried to invite her in, but she had put a finger on his lips and made him swear he'd never invite anyone in after nightfall. The child had sworn, even though he didn't understand the sudden note of fear in her voice, and he had sworn solemnly too not to go out at night if she wasn't there.

However, when she made him promise he'd never follow her after she left him (which always felt way too early for both of them), he nodded, but his fingers were firmly crossed behind his back.

Any parent can imagine Snape's feelings when, about four o'clock, he went to Connor's bedroom and found it empty. Feelings that worsened once that he'd checked he wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen. Feelings that turned from dread to blind panic when he searched for Connor, checking every single room, wardrobe or dark corner, without finding him.

Noting that both his shoes and cloak were gone, he hurried to the garden. Maybe Connor had fancied a moonlight stroll, or maybe he'd wanted to camp there. It didn't take long for his feeble hopes to fade away. The garden was quite small, and soon it became obvious that Connor wasn't there.

Frantic now, Snape exited the house and began the search in Hogsmeade's deserted streets. He was aware he must have looked like a madman, with only his cloak over his dressing gown, but he couldn't have cared less. The only thing he could think about was Connor, and that awfully long list of enemies the child had. They were so many, and some of them would have made many Death Eaters to look like nice and caring people.

But how could they have laid a hand on him, with all the protective spells Dumbledore had cast on the house? Unless… Unless he had gone out on his own, and someone had got him once he was outside. He felt cold ice going down his spine when he remembered the missing cloak and shoes, and all the tantrums Connor had had lately. Maybe he had run away, and now was all alone. Or maybe he wasn't alone at all. Snape didn't know what was worse.

At daybreak, he almost knocked down the doors of all the people he knew. Maybe Connor had fancied going to a friend's house in the middle of the night, and now he was there having the time of his life.

Yeah, sure.

Even though most of the people he dragged out from bed were sympathetic to him (most of them could understand the maniac gleam in Snape's eyes as they had children too), they weren't a great source of help. None of them had seen Connor in days, and even though they swore they'd keep their eyes open, they hadn't a clue where the child might be. Had he checked the house already, even those places where children were least likely to hide in? Had he checked Honeydukes and the toy store? Once one of their children, Buddy, had tried to sneak into there…

All the places where Connor could have gone were checked and double-checked by Snape, and still there was no trace of the boy. Rubbing his forehead, he decided it was the moment to put his damned pride aside and asked for help.

He summoned Dumbledore. Hell, he would have called the whole Aurors's Squad if necessary.

Darla was thunderstruck when she saw the tiny figure standing at the cave's entrance. He looked tired far beyond he should have, his hands and robes were covered with mud and there was a scratch on his left cheek. However, at the sight of her a huge grin illuminated his features and his eyes sparkled.

'I've found you!' he exclaimed, delighted. 'You can't imagine how hard was to track you down, with all the turns you gave and all…'

'Connor! What are you doing here?'

The boy winced at her brisk tone.

'I-I wanted to see you,' he blurted out. 'You always leave so early,' he added, and Darla tried her best to ignore the reproachful note in his voice. She kneeled in front of him, so their eyes would be at the same level.

'Connor, you shouldn't be here. You should be in your bed, fast asleep.'

The child pouted, but she kept her face as expressionless as a stone. Connor couldn't be there, with her. He didn't belong there, he belonged to the small house in the village, with her magical new 'dad' and his Quidditch games. She should have known better.

'Please,' he said in a small voice. 'Don't make me go back there.'

Something in his voice made her wince.

'Are you treated badly there?' she inquired, her hands on his shoulders. Perplexed, Connor shook his head.

'Oh, n-no, no. Severus's been great to me.'

She looked at him in confusion.

'Then why don't you want to go back?'

Connor looked her right in the eye, a soft smile curving his lips.

'Because I want to be with you.'

And naturally, Darla had nothing to say to that.

By noon, even the always calm Professor Dumbledore was beginning to lose his serenity. There was no trace of Connor, despite all their efforts to find him. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.

However, no five-year-old boy could disappear like that, not without help. And Dumbledore's worst fear was that whoever that had taken Connor away had no intention of helping the child at all.

Caressing his beard absently, the headmaster reflected on all those who might have had an unrequited interest in Connor. Most of them couldn't get anywhere near Hogsmeade, because the village was magically protected against most dark creatures, especially demons. Besides, it would be hard for them to find Connor, as Dumbledore had cast on the child an Anti-Locating Spell, which right now was giving them more than one headache.

However, there were certain creatures (or beings, according to the Ministry of Magic) that could walk into the town if they were careful enough. Vampires. The Ministry didn't bother so much to control their presence in the village, as these creatures often preferred Muggle towns, where they could feed without being disturbed by vampire hunters. So, if there was a vampire at Hogsmeade, weeks could pass before it was noticed. Not to forget a vampires's skill to find people using their sharpened senses.

Yet, how did this vampire know where it had to look? Or had the vampire already known that the child was in town? If that was the case, how could it have known?

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead. This was looking worse by the minute. Only Merlin knew what could happen to Connor if he was at the hands of a vampire clan.

Unless… Dumbledore raised his head. Unless it wasn't a vampire clan, but one single vampire…one that had a particular interest in Connor…

'Minerva, call Severus now. I think I might know with whom Connor is.'

Darla watched her sleeping child, a tender look on her face. He looked so peaceful, wrapped in her cloak, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Sleep tight, my dear boy. Mummy will watch over you.

Poor thing, he was so tired. She'd let him sleep all he wanted to, and then she had some Twinkies for him. Not the most nutritious food in the world, but it wasn't as if she could go to get some decent food in the middle of the day.

When he awoke and if he wasn't too tired, she'd take him to the gruta inside the mountain, where he could wash up and drink some water. She was sure he'd love it: the gruta was a beautiful place, filled with diamond stalactites and stalagmites that sparkled with the feeble ray of light that came from above and reflected on the water, which its sound resembled music.

But there'd be time for that. Right now, her boy's mind was far away in dreaming, and she was happy with just watching him sleep.

Night had just fallen, at the early time of five o'clock, when he found him in the least likely place possible: his own house's entrance stairs. He was just sitting there, wrapped in his tiny, bright cloak, with a perfectly indifferent look on his face. He seemed completely unaware of all the torment he had put him through. In fact, he looked as if nothing out of ordinary had happened and didn't understand what all the mess was about.

Snape blinked several times, not daring to believe his eyes. During the previous thirteen hours of agony he'd believed to see Connor more than once, and every single time he'd found out his eyes had just deceived him.

He stood there, frozen, for what felt like hours. His muscles just didn't appear to be able to respond to him, and neither did his brain, which had turned blank. All day he'd been thinking about what could have happened to Connor and what would happen if they found him too late (especially after Dumbledore had shared his thoughts about who could have kidnapped him), and now he had him before his eyes he couldn't move, he couldn't think. He was just stunned.

'Wait a moment,' came Professor McGonagall's voice from somewhere near him. 'Isn't that Co…?'

She was never able to finish that sentence. A black form ran past her in a blur, and the next thing she saw was Snape falling on his knees in front of the child and grabbing his shoulders.

'Connor, are you all right? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? Did someone try to attack or hurt you? Were you kidnapped? Did you run away? What happened?'

The child's eyes were wide open, and he was looking at Snape as if he wasn't getting a word of all he'd blurted out. Taking pity on him, McGonagall put a hand on her colleague's shoulder to calm him down.

'Severus, why don't you take Connor inside, while I notify Albus that he's back?'

The Potions Master stared at her for a moment in confusion, then he seemed to remember where he was and nodded. He took the boy in his arms, more gently than anyone would have imagined Snape capable of, and entered the house.

McGonagall thought that Snape would resume his questioning as soon as he'd walked past the doorframe, but she was mistaken.

First thing he did was to give Connor something to eat, as the boy (who had only had some Twinkies) looked as if he was starving. The next thing he did was to check that the child wasn't hurt, then he took his clothes off and gave him a bath, all of these in silence. Once the bath was finished, he wrapped Connor in a soft towel and took him to his bedroom, where he helped him to put on his Kenmare Kestrals pajamas. So far none of them had pronounced a single word, and they didn't until Connor had got into bed and Snape had sat by his side.

The man gazed at the boy for a moment, not quite believing he was truly there yet. Merlin, he'd been so scared…

In his most gentle voice (one that he'd been practicing a lot recently), he asked Connor what had happened.

The child did not answer. He did not answer to any of the questions Snape made that night, not even when the man's voice had lost its initial gentleness and had turned into a growl. He didn't answer to Albus Dumbledore, either, when he came the following morning to check on him. And he kept his stubborn muteness for the days that followed. Connor wouldn't say a word about what had happened during those thirteen hours that he'd been gone, no matter the threats or the pleas. He was as silent as a tomb.

Snape was seriously considering using Legilmenccy on him while he was asleep, despite McGonagall's indignant protests, when the answer came walking through the door… Or at least it stepped on his doorstep.

One night, a short while after Connor's disappearance, Snape heard a soft knock on the door. He rose from the armchair, put the book he was reading aside, and walked to the door.

He hesitated before answering it. Someone knocking on the door in the middle of the night rarely meant something good, at least in Snape's vast experience.

To his surprise, when he opened the door he didn't find any of the people he'd imagined would deliver him bad news, but a complete stranger, who yet looked oddly familiar.

It was a young, blonde woman, slender and petite. He was pretty sure that he'd never seen that woman in his life and yet there was something in the way her eyebrows curved, in her clear eyes, that felt very familiar, even though he couldn't place what it was.

The woman hesitated a moment, then she cleared her throat, and there was no hesitation in her voice as she spoke.

'Good Evening, sir. I assume you are Professor Severus Snape?'

Snape looked at her in the eye. She didn't lower her gaze.

'You assume well.'

There was a short pause, during which the woman looked slightly nervous, then she composed.

'Well, first of all, I wanted to apology. For what happened the other day, you know.'

Seeing his bewildered expression, she frowned.

'With Connor, I mean. It wasn't my intention to scare you or anything.' As he wouldn't respond, she added, her frown deepening. 'Hasn't Connor told you?'

'Tell me what?'

She didn't wince at his snappish tone of voice, but looked somewhat disconcerted. As if this wasn't the reaction she'd been expecting at all.

'That when he disappeared, he was with me,' she stated. Snape stared at her, unable to answer. 'I had no intention of worrying you at all, but I couldn't go back to the village until night, so he stayed the whole day with me…'

'Do you do this a lot?' Snape hissed, his voice trembling with fury. She blinked.

'Do what?'

He gave her one of his worst glares, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever on her.

'Kidnapping children that aren't yours.'

She looked as if she'd been slapped.

'Oh, no, hold on a second,' she said, getting angry too. 'First, I didn't kidnap him. He followed me. And second…'

A weird smirk spread across her face, a smirk that made Snape's hair curl…figuratively speaking, of course.

'Who said he wasn't mine?'

Next Chapter: Mother is the name. Snape finally finds out what happened that night and Darla hassome things to explain. On the other hand, Siriushas some second thoughts about the way he's taking care of Harry and looks for advice...