Harry slammed his head into the door, his hands on either side of it, clutching the doorframe. He pulled his head back, and slammed it into the door again. He'd been doing that continuously for close to two hours, and Hermione knew there was no way to stop him. She felt like doing the same thing, but she didn't feel she had the strength to lift herself from the bed.

How long had they been trying to escape from this place? How long had it been since Molly and Arthur had been captured? How many more lives would Ron destroy to achieve his goal? Hermione felt sick to her stomach again, and felt her stomach acid churning and begin to rise into her throat. She'd already been sick five times in the last two days, and it was because of the news she'd heard about her children from Draco.

Harry and Hermione had to be so careful about not exposing him. Ron could read their minds, but only what they were thinking about at that current moment. They both ensured they kept their minds away from Draco when Ron came close. They couldn't afford to let Ron know about him. Hermione didn't want Salai and Sharka to end up like Chaim, Sterling and Vilandra. Ron didn't seem concerned, though. He didn't seem to think anyone would be stupid enough to betray him, so he didn't really go looking for a mole, and that kept Draco relatively safe.

Hermione forced her thoughts away from Draco again, just in case Ron was nearby. She focussed back on Harry, who was still slamming his head into the door. Suddenly, with a pained cry, Harry flew backwards into the wall and was frozen against the hard stone. Hermione joined him seconds later, feeling invisible ropes holding her against the wall. The door opened slowly across the room and light poured in around the figure that stood in the doorway. Harry let out a low growl, and Hermione felt her stomach acid rising again.

Ron walked into the room, seemingly bored. He waved his hand and an elegantly carved daybed appeared before the two prisoners. He fell lazily onto it and let out a small sigh.

"You know, one would think that sending my men to the school all the time would allow them to retrieve my family, but no. They're still in there, protected by good old Dumbledore." He smiled at them and Hermione opened her mouth to scream at him, but no sound came out. She and Harry had been muted. "I'm doing this for them, you have to understand. I don't want my family caught in the crossfire but rest assured, whether I get them or not, this war will proceed according to plan. It's your choice whether or not you want to have your children here—safe from all the horrors—or out there." Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione.

Harry was so unbelievably angry that his entire face had turned a dark purple colour, one which reminded Hermione a lot of Harry's uncle Vernon. Ron sighed, shaking his head.

"Suit yourselves. I was just trying to keep them safe." He groaned as he leaned back, getting more comfortable. "The war will begin soon. The school won't even see it coming."

Hermione's eyes widened in terror. Who was this monster! She opened her mouth to holler at him, but again her voice was mute. She settled for thinking what she wanted to say, hoping he would be paying attention. They're just children! She thought angrily. How dare you attack the children to get to the professors!

"Casualties of war, Hermione." Evidently, he had been paying attention. "Collateral damage. It can't be helped."

You monster!

"Now, now, let's not get vicious." Ron insisted. "But back to why I'm really here." He clapped his hands together and stood up. He walked up to the wall so he was right in between his two friends, looking back and forth between them. "Who will be the one to give it up first?" He tapped his lips with his index finger, as if deep in thought. "I don't know, you're both so strong." He cocked his head. "What does the Order have in store for me?"

Hermione closed her eyes tightly. I know nothing, I know nothing, I know nothing, she repeated, over and over. Harry clenched his jaw, trying to think of anything but the Order. Unfortunately, telling himself not to think about the Order was thinking about it—and Harry revealed their plans to the one person who should never know them. Ron began to laugh hysterically.

"That's their plan? Are they insane? I'm almost insulted that Dumbledore came up with such a weak plan." He shook his head. "So insulted. I'm going to have to let him know before I kill him." Harry glared at Ron hatefully, every ounce of his anger aimed at the redhead before him. "Well, that's all I wanted to know. Thanks, mate." He patted Harry's shoulder and turned. As he reached the door, their voices returned, and he froze in his steps as one of them spoke.

"Ron!" The voice was high, shrill—almost pained. He turned slowly to face his wife, tears streaming down her face. "Please." She whispered. "Please, Ron, I beg you! Don't do this!" She pleaded. "Think of our children, Ron! They can still love you! I still love you." For a fleeting second, Harry saw something change in Ron's eyes. "Just come back to me. Be who you once were, and everything will be just like it used to be. Your children miss you. Sterling's never even met you! They just want their father back. Please, Ron." Harry held his breath, staring at Ron hopefully. The change in his eyes—it had to mean something, didn't it?

Hermione and Harry watched Ron as he stood in the doorway, his eyes softer than they'd seen them since they'd been captured.

"My Lord?" And with those two, simple words, the hardness returned, and they knew it would remain there this time.

"In a minute." He growled, the Death Eater cowering away frightened. He walked into the room, up to Hermione. "I want my family back, too, Hermione." He told her, all gentleness gone from his eyes. "That's why I took you. That's why I'm trying to get my children. I want our family to be how it used to be, too." He ran his fingers across her smooth cheek. "I kept you and Harry alive because you both mean something to me, and I want you with me when I rise to the top."

"Don't you mean murder your way to the top?" Harry snapped. His head suddenly slammed backwards into the wall and Harry was knocked out, his glasses falling to the floor, the broken lens shattering completely.

"I went for Sterling, you know." Ron continued, as if Harry hadn't even spoken. "When I went to mum and dad's. I went for Sterling. But he wasn't there. It doesn't matter, because I have men out looking for him, just as I have men preparing their transportation to Hogwarts to begin the war and retrieve my children." Hermione felt like her chest was on fire. She couldn't draw in the breath she needed, and her stomach acid had blocked off the entrance to her windpipe.

"I want the old Ron back!" She yelled in his face. The slap was so fast it took a few seconds for the sharp pain to set in. She turned back to Ron slowly, her cheek burning from the blow he had just done. He pointed one finger at her.

"You will respect me once more, Hermione. I don't care what I have to do in order to make you. I lost my family once because you refused to join me. That will not happen again." And with those final words, he turned on his heel and exited the room, his cloak billowing behind him.

The door slammed loudly and the two friends were bathed in darkness, falling painfully to the floor as their binds were released.

-----

Snape looked up from his parchment, narrowing his eyes at the back of the class where the four Gryffindors sat. They were quietly making their potions, not even speaking to each other the way the other students were. In fact, it was almost as if they were completely ignoring each other.

Snape wasn't the only one who'd noticed the change in the four cousins. Everyone had noticed, and everyone was concerned. Only a few of the teachers knew why, and since Snape wasn't their favourite teacher, he certainly didn't know. He just kept his eye on them because—change or not—he didn't trust they'd dropped their old ways. He knew they were waiting for him to take his guard down so they could do something horrible to him. He'd been waiting for days. It was beginning to tear him apart inside—all this waiting. He needed them to just get whatever they had planned over with so he could go back to being paranoid for the next day instead of being paranoid all the time. It would be Christmas break soon, and he didn't think he would be able to enjoy his holiday if they didn't do what they had planned before the break.

Bloody hell, I must be mad! Snape thought to himself angrily.

"Do something!" He hollered so suddenly that a few people dropped what they were holding and Lexa actually screamed. The four cousins were the only ones who didn't react. They merely looked up at their hysterical Potions professor. "Do something! Blow something up! Talk back to me, insult me! I don't care, just—for Merlin's sake—do something!" He hollered. Everyone stared at him stunned.

On any other day, the four at the back would've been grinning at the fact that he'd snapped. On any other day, they would've taken him up on his offer to insult him or blow something up. This was not any other day, so instead, they merely went back to their potions. Everyone but them stared at Snape stunned.

"Get back to work." He snapped as he stood up and came out from behind his desk. He walked to the back and stood right in front of the Potter twins, feeling they were probably the reason the other two weren't being as disruptive as usual.

"Why on Earth are all of you being so miserable and disrupting my class with your lack of pranks and witty comments?" He hissed angrily. "Your precious father is still alive, Potters."

"Mine's as good as dead." Snape's head snapped towards Vilandra as she spoke, and he took in her appearance properly for the first time in a long time. Her hair looked straw-like and unclean. Her face was thin, and she looked incredibly pale, as if she were gravely ill. But like with what everyone else noticed, what betrayed her inner-feelings was her eyes. As he stared into her Prussian blue eyes, he could see hurt, sadness, and anger. A lot of anger. That was when he realized why they were so miserable. He paled considerably, which was shocking to see since he was already unnaturally pale.

"You know." He whispered. Vilandra, who'd been looking down after he'd scanned her face, looked back up at him. "You know about your father." Vilandra said nothing. She merely looked down again.

"You going to have a laugh taking the mick out of her now?" Leroux demanded angrily. By this time, half the class was listening, but Snape couldn't have that so before Leroux continued, he quickly waved his wand so that an invisible sound barrier blocked off the four Gryffindors and himself from the rest of the class. The second he's finished the spell, Leroux had started saying what Snape had thought he would. "'Oh, your father's evil, I always knew he was no good, he was rotten. Oh, joyful, joyful, hurrah, hur-bloody-rah'." Snape stared at Leroux slightly stunned. He'd expected the Weasley boy to say something regarding Vilandra's father being evil, but he never suspected that the four thought so badly of him. He never in his entire life thought anyone would think he was that heartless.

Snape stared at Leroux's hard face for a long while before waving his wand again, turning to head back to his desk.

"Class is dismissed." He said as he waved his wand at cauldrons as he passed them. The tables began to clear and the potions disappeared, but the students did not. Everyone was staring at him stunned, and this only angered him. Reaching his desk, he turned to face the class. "I said get out!" He hollered. Everyone jumped and began to pack away their things as Snape fell into his chair, feeling horrible.

Had he really been such a git to them that they believed something this severe would deserve a good laugh? Did they actually believe he would make fun of Vilandra because her father was the King of Darkness? Well, they were gravely mistaken. Had he known sooner that she knew, he would've been nicer to her, just like if Harry Potter died he would be nicer to the twins. No one deserved to live the lives the four at the back led because of who their parents were, and Snape decided then and there as the four cousins left his room that he would be nicer to them. He would stop treating them like garbage. He just didn't understand why he wasn't told.

He would have to talk to Dumbledore about this, and just as Snape thought of Dumbledore, Vilandra was thinking about McGonnagall. She needed to talk to her, but Vilandra didn't even know how to start. So, as the four made their way to their Common Room, Vilandra stopped. The other three turned to her.

"Where you going, Lonnie? We were let out early, classes don't start for another half-hour." Rhett insisted.

"I have to talk to McGonnagall." She told them. "I'll be up in a minute."

"We'll go with you." Talak said, taking a step towards her. She shook her head.

"No. I want to talk to her alone." Vilandra insisted.

"But what if something else attacks?" Leroux demanded. "We don't want you to be alone, like last time." Vilandra smiled.

"That's nice of you, Leroux. It really is, but I need to talk to her alone." The three boys shared a look. "I'll be up in the Common Room in ten minutes." Leroux pressed his lips together.

"Ten minutes?"

"Not a second longer." He nodded.

"Okay. We'll see you up there." They turned and made their way back to the dormitory as Vilandra began to make her way towards McGonnagall's office. As she walked, she couldn't help but feel someone was following her. She slowed down slightly, frowning and listening hard. She heard nothing, but all the hairs on the back of her neck were raised. She spun around, but didn't get her wand out fast enough.

"Stupefy!" Vilandra flew off her feet as the red bolt hit her in the chest, and all went black.

-----

Salai Malfoy replaced his wand and walked towards Vilandra hurriedly. He didn't want anyone to know what he'd done, and he hoped no one had seen him. He reached her and lifted her easily into his arms, holding her beneath the knees and shoulders. As he walked hurriedly towards the stairs, he couldn't help but think of how much lighter than he expected she was.

He carried her down the single flight of stairs and headed for the front door. He exited it easily and because of how cold it was outside, nobody was there. He could make his way to the lake without having to worry about being seen. He was glad they'd just had Potions in the dungeons because they were wearing heavier cloaks which took away some of the chill.

He reached the lake and placed Vilandra beneath the leafless tree. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at her.

"Ennervate." She jerked up immediately.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" She demanded as she struggled to get to her feet. Her foot slid on the snow and she fell back to the ground. Her face was contorted in anger and Malfoy just stood in front of her, waiting for her to calm down. "You just knock me unconscious in the middle of—what is wrong with you!" She hollered, standing again and keeping her footing this time. Her robes were completely soaked from her waist to her hem, but she didn't seem to notice. That, or she didn't particularly care.

"Are you quite finished?" Malfoy asked her calmly. She glared at him but said nothing more. "I'll assume you are. Now that you're finished, I can explain. I only knocked you unconscious because I knew it was the only way to get you to talk to me. I figured if I got you outside, maybe you'd feel more inclined to speak with me." Vilandra watched him for a long while, then crossed her arms against the cold.

"So speak." She finally said. He smiled and turned to the lake, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets.

"You're not the only one with a broken family." He said to her, the wind whipping at his face. It was cold and bitter, but he wanted to have this conversation with her. He almost needed to. Others didn't understand Vilandra's pain the way he did, and now, he would finally tell her about it. There were two reasons why: he understood her pain, and he knew the truth.

"Just because my dad—"

"Is the King of Darkness." He cut her off. She said nothing and he turned to face her again. She was staring at him dumbstruck.

"How-how did you…" She trailed off and he sighed, walking closer to her.

"My dad told me." He admitted. He didn't tell her that Draco was a spy for Dumbledore, but he could tell her the truth about how he found out. "He worries about Hermione. He always had a soft spot for her. I guess he just wanted to make sure someone looked out for you." Vilandra was still staring at him like he was some kind of alien.

"How long have…" She trailed off again, but he knew the question.

"Since before First year. I knew that because I was a Malfoy you would never be my friend, but I ensured I would always be in your life some way or another. You have to understand something, Weasley, you're important to me. And you're the only one who can possibly understand my pain." Vilandra frowned and for the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to hear what Malfoy had to say. She sat back down and Malfoy smiled slightly.

"So you probably know more about my life than I do. Tell me about yours." She whispered. He sighed as he sat down beside her, the two of them looking out across the frozen lake.

"My mum left my dad when we were kids. I'm sure you know Fleur Delacour was supposed to marry your uncle Bill." Vilandra nodded.

"She changed her mind soon after Dumbledore faked his death. She thought he was hideous. Even though she'd said she would still marry him…" Vilandra trailed off. "I guess she was shallow." She turned to Malfoy. "No offence."

"Trust me, I probably hate my mum more than you do." An angry frown distorted Malfoy's handsome features, and Vilandra almost wanted to smooth it away. "She just married my dad because he was rich and good looking. Then, she had Sharka and I and soon after that, she left him. She'd found someone richer and more attractive, so she'd filed for divorce and disappeared from our lives. Sharka was three, I was four. I don't really remember her, but dad hates talking about her. I don't blame him. He went into a depression for a long time, and I bet you can guess who helped him out of it."

"Uncle Harry." Vilandra said without even thinking. The answer couldn't have been more obvious.

"Harry Potter. When everything in my dad's world went wrong, his worst enemy was the one to bring him out of it. He helped my dad in a way you'll never understand. My dad became a whole new person, and as he changed, Sharka and I did, too." He fished a stick out of the snow and began to make little designs in the white powder with the end of it. "Soon after dad had gotten better, you lost your dad." Vilandra's heart clenched and she grimaced painfully. "My dad wanted to be there for Hermione the way Harry was there for him, but you obviously know your mother. She doesn't take help, not from anyone." Vilandra nodded, clenching her teeth to stop from crying.

"Yeah, I know." She whispered.

"That's why I always felt you and I were similar, you know?" Malfoy looked at her. "Your dad left, and my mum left. My dad and your mum have had to raise their children alone." Vilandra nodded.

"Did your mum go evil after she left?" Malfoy smiled slightly as she asked this and saw a small smile tugging at her lips, too.

"No." He replied, throwing the stick away. "No, she most certainly didn't, but I assure you—she's a skank." Vilandra laughed, and Malfoy was glad to hear the sound. It sounded like a real, happy laugh, and he was hoping to hear one of those before the end of the conversation.

They were more alike than either of them realized. Draco had helped raise Sharka just as Vilandra had helped raise Chaim and Sterling. They both kept their emotions inside to stop their remaining parents from having problems living their lives. And they both had broken families. The Gods had this all planned out in advance, all they had to do was set the pieces into motion.

Vilandra watched Malfoy's face a long while as he stared out across the lake.

"You're different than I imagined." She admitted as she tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He turned to her, smiling.

"Am I, now?" She nodded.

"I heard so many stories about your dad being this smug, evil, arrogant wanker that I figured you'd be just like him." Malfoy laughed heartedly at this comment, shaking his head.

"Well, we're not all evil wankers. Smug and arrogant, yes. Evil wanker, no." He smiled at her and she returned it. Her smile was dazzling and he was so caught up in watching her lips he almost missed what she'd said.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I'm not so sure about you not being a wanker, but I'm fairly sure you're relatively safe." He pulled up the sleeves of his robes and looked at both arms.

"No Dark Mark. Blast." He snapped his fingers. "And I was hoping to be integrated in your father's cult." He bit his tongue angrily as the words left his lips, realizing that what he'd said would probably upset her, but he was stunned to see her smiling. She then looked down at her hands, picking at the skin around her nails.

"You know, Malfoy, it's been hard finding out about my dad, and everyone who knows has looked at me a little—a little different. But not you." She turned back to him. "I guess what I'm trying to say is—it's nice, you know, for you to joke with me about my dad. It makes it seem less real. Less hurtful." She looked back down at her hands and Malfoy sighed.

"You know your dad wasn't always like this." He whispered as he leaned back in the snow, propping his elbows up so he wasn't lying down completely. "Something must've happened for him to become what he is." Vilandra nodded.

"I know that. I just don't know what could have been so bad." She let out a deep breath and cocked her head, some of her red-brown hair tumbling over her shoulder. "Do you think—someone so far gone can ever come back?" She asked him, turning back to face him as she finished speaking.

Malfoy reached out and tucked her stray hair behind her ear, running his fingers across her cheek as his hand fell back to the ground.

"I think everyone has some good and some bad in them, Weasley. Some are just overcome with one of the two." She smiled slightly, looking away from him.

"You didn't really answer my question."

"Nobody can." And with that, the two of them sat in the snow for a long while as the sun continued its usual course above their heads. The two were freezing but somehow, they enjoyed each other's company, even if they weren't speaking. It was only when the sun was beginning to set behind the horizon that Vilandra realized they'd skived all of their classes, and a vessel had probably burst in Leroux's brain by now. Vilandra cringed at the lecture she was going to get from the twins and Leroux. Ten minutes tops—it had been close to four hours.

Vilandra stood up, brushing the snow off her robes, and Malfoy followed suit. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Thanks, Malfoy." She finally said. "This was nice." He nodded.

"It was, wasn't it?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"No need to rub it in, I was wrong, I'll admit it." She turned and began walking towards the castle, Malfoy jogging to catch up and falling into step beside her. "I guess this means I should stop calling you Malfoy, huh?" Vilandra asked him. He shrugged.

"I don't know. Sounds kind of sexy coming from you." He turned to her with a smug grin and she hit him lightly in the arm.

"Now there's the Salai Malfoy I know and love to hate." He laughed and shook his head.

"Please. Hate this?" He motioned his face and then smirked. "One would need to be all-powerful to resist the charm of a Malfoy."