I finally received a review and my, did it make me blush. Thanks to NativeMoon I have decided to post the next chapter to a complete work in four parts. Again these stories popped into my mind and would not release me until they were finally put to paper. If you enjoy please take the time and leave me a few words. I can promise they really make all the difference in the world. Lastly I would like to point I'm still not J.K. but I really enjoy playing with her toys.

An Unfortunate Slight

Part II

Moments

It was a moment of frustration that caused him to snap, and loose all remaining contact with this world. Not one thing, nothing in fact that could be specifically altered to change the consequences that were sure to come. As certain of his place, that he did in fact exist he knew she would fall and her end would happen at his hands. If only her devote worship had remained hidden, left waiting and watching with in her own room he might have never even noticed the girl. She could have possibly gone overlooked as just another Hufflepuff he would be forced to berate through Potions and watch cry from his obvious signs of displeasure. Nothing special would have driven his eyes to follow her or instinctively locate her the moment he entered any room. Such details of her being would have never been seen, categorized, and later recalled with such loathing, such actual desire to damn her very soul and prove her faith unworthy of such a beautiful follower of the light.

As difficult as it was from him to believe he could not remember her sorting, or anything at all about her first year. It was as though she had not existed until one small action, so ingrained into what she was called his name and without the ability to turn away, his eyes fell on the small golden cross resting, seemingly suspended just below her throat. He had followed her, unable to stop his traitorous mind from willing his body, until suddenly stopping just behind the swirl of her robes, afraid for the briefest of moments he had been noticed. Outside the castle, the Gods were warring, and the Earth Mother was paying the price of being the most loved. Rain was pounding in sheets against the glass, and her face had turned instinctively into the sound. With great hesitation she had reached towards the pane, almost making contact when the onslaught outside heaved another volley of electric fire. Light had flashed across her face mirroring the dark outside lit beneath the raging elements. Instinct had taken over and without a moment's thought her hand flew from the glass, as if its touch had seared her skin, only to clench her fingers and call to her God. Her hand flew from her face, paused between her breasts, crossed from one shoulder to the next until finally her ritual had been completed. She had summoned her God, called his name to the Heavens with this one act of contrition and now she stood before him believing in salvation. Could it have been possible she thought not to outlive the war waging against the outside world. She had stood for several moments as he visually devoured the movement of her lips; softly, slowly speaking the sort of words any deity would love to hear. Promises at redemption, at salvation, of a lifetime spent in deepest devotion, if only she could outlive this night and her fear. It had been the moment her lips ceased to move, their silent prayers carried away against the dark when her God chose to answer her plea. The darkness screamed against the intrusion as light again flashed across the night illuminating the corridor in which they both stood. Clearly he had seen them, and had known for certain then that the faithful little Hufflepuff would have to die. Outlined against the shadows the impression of angelic wings framed her form, her head dropped towards the floor, offering nothing short of penitence at the gift. Perhaps the young girl had indeed sensed him, and not only did she fear the storms, but had also prayed for salvation from him. Her God had indeed answered his most faithful, and had answered her prayers in a way she could never understand, forever sealing her fate to his own.

It had shocked him the first time he had seen her after their evening in the corridor. She had entered the Great Hall, quite clearly he had seen the mark of her God; around her the halo of wings encircled her shape. Shocked that no one seemed to remark or startle he became aware that only he could see her for what she really was. Only he would know her innocence, her perfection, her faith and belief in eventual salvation, and only he would know the final moment of her life.

She had always been a tragic little beauty, forever doomed by her faith and belief to see good where none actually existed. He had watched her time after time give away her words; her gestures of concern meant to surround and comfort a wounded soul. It had revolted him to watch as his little Hufflepuff grew and began leaving the grounds to the sound of bells chiming against the Sunday dawn. She had turned her back against her own kind, to seek refuge in a faith that had no place in the World she now called home. There was only good and there was only bad, and each was merely tainted with varying degrees of magic. What he knew to be certain was all he would have ever needed to know. He believed in certainties, bound to this life that was nothing but sex and death, there was no room for such perfection. The Gods should have been as jealous, and taken offense to such a creation. Instead they seemed to love her, covet her above all others and lovingly worship at the foot of their newfound brethren.

He was certain however that she would be forsaken, that in the end her God would not be by her side as she left the mortal world; she would be forgotten and would suffer her end with only himself as her companion. With careful and exacting precision he had managed to maneuver her to his advanced classes, ensuring he would have the opportunity to spend several nights a week completely alone in her company. How quiet she had been, only opening her mouth when prompted and so obviously driven by her faith. Still her wings followed her every move, casting a faint silhouette around her shadow. It had been shear amazement at her poise, how dutifully and respectfully she wore her angelic armour that had willed his fingertips towards her face. An errant silken curl had called to him; it had lain nestled against her cheek, falling across her vision as she read. He had not expected her eyes to immediately meet his own as he brushed the offending hair from her view. Inside them he saw her soul, he saw her need to find the good inside of him, to save him from even himself. However she would learn, this young girl who played far beyond her experience, would learn. There was no salvation for him, and the little Hufflepuff's sacrifice would just be another sin to bear.

Rain had pounded against his back as he had carefully carried her sleeping form across the forest floor. It had taken a great deal of planning; exact calculations and subtle caution had been his constant mentor as he maneuvered her silent silhouette from the safety of her tower. How fitting that it had stormed, perhaps her God had indeed begun to mourn her eminent passing, sending bitter torrents to rage against the night and those that live in its shadow. With great loving tenderness he had draped her form over the wooden cross, binding her hands and feet into place. Still she had not stirred, not one word had spilled across her lips as he had seen it fitting she not suffer the end of her days. Without pausing, he had stepped away from her now bound form, pulled his wand and sent a blaze of light in her direction. Before him he had watched the cross lift from the moss covered Earth and stand alone, her form now impaled beneath his magic. Instantly her body convulsed at the intrusion but still she had not spoken, not even a plea for her life was ever heard. Silently and with great reverence he had fallen to his knees, offering his life for her own, if only her God would smite him where he knelt. But nothing other than the sound of warring elements could be heard as he bargained with her God, and still no one came to save the little Hufflepuff. No one had come to tell him no when he lit the ring of fire beneath the erect cross, creating a barrier between themselves and the rest of the world. No one had stood underneath her form, crying and cursing his madness other than himself and his own demons. Quite the contrary her death had been an intensely private affair, much in the same way her life had been lived. His faith in nothing had been proven with her last breath; her God had not appeared and released her from her suffering. Instead beneath her dying stillness, he had reached towards the Heavens to touch the face of a fallen angel; with chaffed and bitter hands he had cradled her features. After careful consideration he had leaned in, brushing her lips in the softest of gestures only to whisper against the silent tomb. Fire instantly flashed across the sky, reflecting against his face as he apparated away into the darkness. Only the night and her minions would ever hear, would ever know he had gently kissed her cold lips and claimed her death by calling his name aloud. Against the black, only one word remained to echo within the silence…….Judas.