Over the next several days, Sharlen stayed at the Oxford house, consuming The Daily Prophet hungrily. Snape had of course forbidden it to be delivered to the house, so she would go in the mornings to take a copy from the Malfoys and return to dissect every word. Her father had placed Pius Thicknesse, still heavily Imperiused, in the position of Minister of Magic, with the official word to the wizarding world that Scrimgeour resigned—the truth of his murder, seen from mere feet away, had been burned behind her eyes since that night, sitting like a pit in her stomach. Attending Hogwarts was now compulsory for all young witches and wizards, something she realized had never been the case previously. The regime Voldemort had set for the Ministry was, at this instant, to focus on rounding up and putting all Muggle-borns on trial, and hoards of them had already been taken. Still, her father remained absent, out of focus, out of the spotlight—which coursed through the country spreading even more fear and distrust.

What was worse was Harry's face plastered over page one with the headline, "WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE." The Harry in the photograph peered back defiantly, and Sharlen knew it was the fastest way to turn his supporters against him. Disgusted by the tactic, she did, regardless, carefully tear out the photo, fold it into a small square, and store it in the rear pocket of her little black book along with his letters to her. When she had finished reading every last word, she set the paper ablaze, as she had all the rest.

Late on August 4, she felt a burning against her leg and reached deep into her cloak pocket to find the coin she and Lupin used to communicate burning bright with a message to meet. Sharlen glanced around the currently empty house nervously; Snape had only just left for Malfoy Manor, where she knew he was meeting Voldemort and a few key players in the Ministry to discuss the fate of Hogwarts. How long would they be? Could she risk leaving and missing Snape's return?

She wasn't sure how much longer he would vouch for her, as she had riddled he must've done; hindsight was 20/20 and she realized how foolish she was thinking she had simply gotten lucky never missing her father's comings and goings. He was scarcer now, always going abroad. Lupin had not called on her before, and she could feel the urgency in this summons. Should she try sending a Patronus? She didn't feel capable, and the last and only time she'd produced one it had frightened her first to need one and then to see its shape, how completely her magic was betraying her espionage.

With a firm shake of her head she realized she was wasting time and, the coin firmly gripped in her hand, turned on the spot into the crushing, suffocating darkness of Apparition. Her eyes opened to focus on her new surroundings, she was in a cabin lit only by firelight, and Lupin was storming madly in the far corner.

"How did you stand it, how did you—" he was ranting, raving, flinging off his travelling cloak, looking quite deranged. Sharlen thought she could see, for the first time, the shadow of the wolf on his face. She knew the full moon had come and gone, but she felt herself unable to stop a glance at the moon shining beyond the bay window to nervously confirm. It was waning.

She held up her hands and rushed forward to stand before him. He plowed past her. "Remus, what's happened? Why are you so upset?"

"Harry, how—"

"Where is he? You've seen him? Are they okay?" she shouted, her panic exploding from her. Her shrill urgency seemed to bring him down a peg or two, as he stopped pacing and ran and hand through his longish hair.

"They are safe," he said in agonizing tones, knowing she so longed to see him and be reassured he was okay. Sharlen raised her eyebrows at his aura—he was really torn up inside. "I'm sorry I called you here like this, I just, I can't—" He swallowed hard, sadness overtaking his fury now, eyes slightly screwed up. "Harry was right. I am a coward."

"Harry does not think anything like that about you," Sharlen insisted, reaching forward. "Show me what happened." She didn't have her gloves with her, as her father had insisted (at least when he was around) that she have full control of her abilities, and took his hand. He looked simply agonized as her eyes paled and her pupils shrank in the firelight. Sharlen merely got a glance over a dim kitchen where four Butterbeers sat on the table before Lupin thought better of it and tore his hand away.

"What—"

"I can't show you where they are," he muttered bitterly.

Sharlen nodded vigorous encouragement. "Of course. Of course you can't. I wasn't thinking. What happened, Remus, why are you so upset?"

"He is so stubborn. Harry," said Lupin.

Sharlen sighed. "He can be, yes."

Lupin relayed the story of his altercation with Harry when he offered to join them on their quest—how Harry had called him a coward for deserting his wife and unborn child. By the end of the tale, Sharlen's eyes were wet, but she did not cry.

"You mustn't be angry with him, please," she implored him, walking closer. Lupin's eyes met her darkly. "Of course Harry would think that abhorrent, what has he ever wanted more than he's wanted his own parents to be around? He should have been gentler with you," she added when he made to rebuff, "but he was probably shocked at the idea that you would even consider an abandonment like that. He has been burdened so enormously by prophecy," she said, desperation in her voice. "He would never want to hurt you, but what you were suggesting is just unthinkable to him. He respects you too much to accept what you were proposing to do. Please understand."

Lupin looked out at the moon dolefully and put one hand over his face to conceal himself. Sharlen thought he looked more broken than she had ever seen someone. "I've done her a grave injustice," he muttered finally, his voice cracking.

"Loving someone is never unjust," she reassured him quietly, reaching up to take his hand from his face, "not when they love and need you too. She chose you, Remus." His eyes met hers and Sharlen couldn't help the smile on her face. "You're going to have a baby. How can that not also fill you with affection, despite your fear?"

"That's not the point," he groaned. "It never should have been. My kind don't usually mate, the child will be just like me, I have no doubt about it."

"A life is not less precious because it's born under different circumstances, is it?" she asked quietly, imploring him to look at her. Lupin's shoulders collapsed slightly when he met her eyes again, knowing she was seeking reassurance as much as trying to assuage him. His aura was tinging light blue.

"Of course, of course not," he stammered. Sharlen smiled again.

"I know you're scared, and you're worried, but that's something you need to do with Tonks. And being happy about it, about bringing more life and love into this world in such a dark time, is okay. It should be celebrated," she reassured him.

Lupin smiled weakly. "But I am a coward. How can I face her after what I'd proposed to do? And will Harry ever forgive me?"

"If I know Harry at all, he will have a harder time forgiving himself for speaking to you so harshly when you are so obviously hurting," said Sharlen. "I'm the one he will never forgive." Lupin watched her sadly, guilt overwhelming him. She took a shuddering breath. "Stay with Tonks, please. If you can be with the person you love, you need to. You need to stay together."

Lupin nodded, unable to speak. Sharlen took a look around and discerned that this was likely his own home. Startled, her eyes flew back to him. "How could I Apparate inside this place? Isn't it under enchantments?"

"The Fidelius Charm," he agreed. "I told you where it was, with the coin."

Sharlen sighed, brow furrowed. "You must stop giving me glimpses into your safety. You didn't even check my identity when I got here! Please come with me somewhere else and erase my memory of this place."

"Memory Charms can be broken under interrogation, and even still I am not particularly gifted with them," Lupin protested. "I want you to have a safe place to retreat to if all of this goes sour. I trust you."

"This is not about trust!" she shouted, though she was glad to have it. It was getting late and she was anxious to return to the house. "Please just promise me you will keep things like this from me in the future. We need to meet in neutral areas."

When at last he had agreed, Sharlen told him she had to leave and did so without delay. In more favorable circumstances, she would have preferred to stay and further comfort him—it had felt good, she admitted selfishly, to be able to help someone in a positive light again. She made it home and was out flying with Piotr long before Snape returned for the night. Once she was sure her father was not with him, she pretended she had not waited up for him.

Sharlen spent the rest of August pouring over useless "news" and climbing the walls when she was not out memorizing the surrounding area with Piotr and realizing she hadn't spoken for entire days at a time. The only interesting thing to take place was Hermione's name appearing in a list of Muggle-borns wanted for questioning in the Daily Prophet on August 22. On September 1, Snape left for Hogwarts to assume his position as headmaster. Because of the delicate situation with the school and the Death Eaters, the Carrow siblings, stationed to assist in reeducating the castle, he would not be returning to the Oxford house in the evenings as he had all Sharlen's life.

She had insisted to be left to live alone in the house with Piotr, but had been denied; before Snape left for the school, he saw to it that she was set up in Malfoy Manor with all of her personal belongings, few may they be, so she would have no reason to leave on her own to get something. Though he kept her Ministry employment secret, he seemed more determined now that she keep her head down.

Beyond her frustration at having lost a place of her own to continue plotting, she resented being treated as something that needed absolute protection. If only she could show them what she'd done, what she'd accomplished... though to do so would have proven her to be a rebel to their cause. Instead, she watched Snape leave from the window of the room that was to be hers for the foreseeable future, the place she was to hide out invisibly if any Death Eaters had business with her father in the Manor. The only positive was that she was better able to get to the Daily Prophet before anyone else in the morning, though it had largely become useless as far as news went; the entire publication had become an Anti-Muggleborn propaganda rag, with hardly any mention of Voldemort, the break outs in Azkaban, or the dozens of deaths occurring everywhere every day for Muggles and wizards alike.

But each day, as she slammed down the paper in frustration, she was happy at her core. Harry was safe—if he had been apprehended or killed, it would be on the very first page.

After Lupin's fight with Harry, and in consideration of her more populated home life, they agreed to meet once a month in Knockturn Alley, where Sharlen had found a potion master to brew the potion for her. She couldn't be sure Snape would still supply it and wouldn't be able to do so herself while staying with the Malfoys. Whenever they met, she made sure to transfigure her clothing to hopefully make herself more inconspicuous.

Her fifth day of living with the Malfoys, she collected the paper from the owl at the sitting room window and dropped into the seat below it, propped up against deep gray, velvet pouf pillows, tearing open the paper hungrily. She breathed a sigh of relief to see the front page was once again Potter-free and settled in to scour every syllable for clues that could detail what was happening with the rebels, swatting away Bellatrix's offer of breakfast and tea. The ringing was back in her head. Was she coming undone?

"Hide her, now," Narcissa ordered quietly, coming around the corner. She glanced behind her anxiously and Bellatrix stood.

"What's happened, Cissy?"

"Yaxley is here, hide her," Narcissa hissed more urgently. Sharlen sat up straighter, hearing angry voices drawing nearer as Bellatrix brought her wand down onto the crown of her head and took the newspaper from her hands. Sharlen felt the familiar egg-drip sensation run down her body as the Disillusionment Charm turned her invisible.

"...defenses set up against Snape, but it's definitely where they were staying," Yaxley growled harshly to Lucius as they turned the corner, shaking their heads. "We're still searching it but there's nothing of their current whereabouts."

"Best to keep him in the dark, then," Lucius muttered, eyeing the place Sharlen sat wearily. It was apparent he regretted her presence and the chance she may relay this information to her father. Bellatrix and Narcissa stiffened.

"What's happened?" Bellatrix asked, walking forward.

Yaxley seemed vexed. "I almost had him. Potter infiltrated the Ministry yesterday with two others. Freed a whole hoard of Muggleborns. I grabbed hold and they shook me off in Apparition after they'd arrived at the house. Then they disappeared again."

Sharlen hardly dared to breathe. She left the four bickering in the sitting room and swept upstairs, confusing Yaxley momentarily as she rushed by. She took the stairs two and a time, undoing the Disillusionment Charm and making herself a little dizzy as her body came back into view. She rifled through the bag on her bed to find the little black book, flipping through it feverishly, but there was still no note from Harry.

She ran a hand through her hair in distress, the other reaching out to magically lock the door several feet behind her. They broke into the Ministry? What in the world could have required that? She was sure there was no way any Horcrux of her father's could possibly be hidden there. How did they make it out unscathed?

The weeks of worrying and being in the dark collapsed on her like a tidal wave, dragging her under—and suddenly she was panicking, drowning in her helplessness, feeling she would certainly drop dead in that very spot if she didn't know what Harry was doing or where he was at the very moment. Her breathing grew rabid, her lips starting to go numb. But how could she find him to check if the entire Death Eater movement wasn't able to even after taking over the Ministry and how far its power reached over the wizarding world? If only she had something of his to locate him… she grabbed uselessly at the amber necklace, where it would have sat against her chest if Harry had not torn it away from her...

Her eyes widened with realization and she snatched up the black book, a hand on each cover, closing her eyes in concentration. Would a Locator Spell work on its double? And the question that had been plaguing her—did he even still have it? She had to try. Desperation was clouding all her good judgment and the thought of being in that house another hour, let alone the foreseeable future, without knowing was an agony she couldn't even fathom.

A warm sensation made her palms tingle and a location sprang into her mind immediately. Shoving the book back into her clothes, she turned and Apparated into the darkness, following her instinct.

When she opened her eyes, stumbling lightly, she was in a small forest clearing, tall elms surrounding her. Before her, impossibly, breathlessly, was the Gryffindor trio she so longed to see.

"She's here!" Harry shouted, clutching his scar and pointing toward her wildly. Ron and Hermione whipped around, startled, as Sharlen walked toward them.

"Thank goodness I found you," she said, advancing, "I was afraid it wouldn't work." She was so relieved at the sight of them that their horrified expressions and tell-tale auras were lost on her. Her eyes caught sight of Ron's arm in a makeshift sling and bloody bandages and her face contorted with pain. "Oh, Ron… What happened?" Her eyes flew to Hermione and she added, "Here, I have more Dittany if you need it…"

"Block her out!" Harry demanded, falling to his knees with pain. "Hermione, block her out!"

"Harry no!" Sharlen shouted, holding her hands up defensively. "Please don't shut me out again! Let me help you!"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry screamed, sending Sharlen flying backwards. She hit the ground heavily on one shoulder and cried out, but got right back up.

Steadying her breathing and trying to keep tears out of her voice, she tried to reason with them. "You're wasting time," she said calmly, taking a few more steps toward them. "I'm not your enemy, Harry. I never have been."

"Now, Hermione," Harry growled.

Hermione held her hands up, holding her wand, and began rapidly setting up enchantments. Ron attempted to disarm Sharlen but she slashed her arm through the air to block it, her eyes searching the three of them desperately. Harry's wand was in his hand too but he was on his knees, covering his scar and staring at her. Sharlen kept advancing, begging them to listen.

"I can help you, I know where to go next," Sharlen cried. Suddenly she couldn't hear what Hermione was saying—the Muffliato Charm. "No, please," she shouted, but she kept enchanting their surroundings diligently, rapidly.

"Hermione, please," Sharlen begged, tears in her eyes. "Let me help you."

Wincing apologetically, Hermione said the last enchantment firmly and the three of them disappeared in front of her.

"I'll help you!" she wailed, looking around wildly. They had disappeared before her eyes but she knew they were close, hidden by their enchantments that made her suddenly unaware of which direction they were in. "I know where some of them might be, I'll help you destroy them! Please!" She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry looked away, unable to bear the sight of her like this. Sharlen strained her senses but couldn't feel them anywhere.

"I'll stay here with you until you believe me," she whispered, looking at the grass tearfully. Then the words started falling out of her and she pulled her little black book into her lap and wrote something quickly. "I'm just so relieved you're alive. I'm glad Kingsley got word to the Burrow in time. I was afraid he'd be too late while we were fighting at the Ministry. But we lost…" She gulped, the words hard to swallow. "I couldn't save Scrimgeour."

She bit her lip and choked out a sob, her guilt over the late Minister bubbling over the brim momentarily. "I can't stop thinking about how I failed him," she cried, gasping as she tried to calm herself down. She hadn't allowed herself to break down over this in all the time since. The intense emotions of the morning took over briefly.

"But I won't fail you, whether you can accept me or not. Voldemort will be no match for us, together…" she said to no one in particular, grabbing a small bottle from her bag into her fist. Ron and Hermione glanced between Sharlen and Harry, torn and silent. Harry knew the same realization was washing over the other two—Kingsley's warning at the wedding was because Sharlen had sent him.

The three jerked their heads up as a loud crack alerted them back to Sharlen, who was being apprehended by Snatchers.

Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth in horror as Fenrir Greyback latched Sharlen's arms roughly behind her back. They saw the glint of the small bottle fall from her hand to the forest floor, unnoticed by the Snatchers. Tears fell down Hermione's cheeks. "Oh, Harry," she cried, turning around to face him, "Harry, what should we do?"

"How did they find her?" Ron asked nervously. Harry didn't have a response for either of them.

The three of them watched silently as Sharlen put up a fight, jerking her body and sending those around her flying without a word. With their wands, the Snatchers bound her with thick, black cords; they cut into her shirt, exposing her skin and bringing bright blood to the surface. The werewolf seized her again before she could retaliate and with her skin exposed, the visions started abruptly. She hadn't been able to practice meditation at all since leaving Hogwarts—it was too risky to try to open her mind around Snape or her father. She squeezed her eyes shut and arched her back but Greyback lifted her easily.

Fulguro! she thought firmly, sending Greyback snarling from the shock though he didn't let go of her.

"Crucio," the leader called clearly, and suddenly Sharlen felt as though she had been run through with a thousand white-hot swords all over her body. She collapsed in pain, unable to hold back from screaming. Despite the torture, the vision Greyback's touch elicited was clear and constant—he was tearing a young girl apart. The trio watched, horrified and frozen.

The leader, Scabior, let up the curse and circled in on her, asking for her name. They couldn't hear her response, but it was met with a backhanded slap to the face. Totally blind to her surroundings and reeling from the torture curse, Sharlen's chest heaved as her breath caught and Hermione let out a gasp, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. Ron put his arm around her shoulders. Scabior said, "Let's try again. How about your wand? Hand it over."

At an angle from the scene, the trio could see lines of blood running down Sharlen's hands behind her back, dripping down her tense fingers onto the leaves below.

Harry tore the locket Horcrux off over his head and felt a flood of dread erase whatever anger he had left. The pain in his scar paled to a dull roar.

"I don't have a wand, you idiot," Sharlen shouted, eyes wide open and pupils mere pinpricks, impossible to see from where they watched so her eyes looked completely white. "Did you see one when I threw you back?"

"Why isn't she fighting them?" Ron asked, looking to Harry on the ground. His eyes were transfixed on hers. "What's she doing?"

"Greyback is touching her. Her skin," Harry said weakly, unable to look away. "It's the visions. She can't see past them. She's not focusing. She's blind."

"Let's search her," Greyback growled against her neck, inhaling her skin and hair deeply, causing Sharlen to flinch violently and give a little cry of shock. Despite the brave front she was forcing, having a werewolf's teeth so close to her neck was nothing short of petrifying. Harry leapt up and surged forward furiously, wand emitting red sparks, but Ron grabbed him and yanked him back. He kept a firm grip on him.

"Plenty of time for that," Scabior answered, earning dark chuckles from the other men. He stopped in front of her and leaned closer, noting her completely blank, white stare. "You dare say the Dark Lord's name?"

All Sharlen did was laugh. It was quite unsettling with her eyes so wide and white.

"Who were you talkin' to?" he asked good-naturedly, looking around with his arms out. "Looks like yer all by yer lonesome."

"You sure can call them," Sharlen hissed. "Of course I'm alone. There's not a single soul around here for miles."

Somewhere behind Harry and Ron, Hermione fell to her knees. Ron whipped around to make sure she was okay, his grip still tight on Harry, now torn between the two of them. Face tear-stained, she muttered, "She's going to lead them away from us."

"You're making a colossal mistake," Sharlen growled through gritted teeth, still struggling against Greyback while the vision of him dragging his teeth through a girl's throat flooded her senses. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut in disgust, but it did nothing to end the vision. She tried to focus on a spell but only managed a weak disarming charm on one of the men in the back, which earned her the sharp cutting of the cords tightening around her. She cried out; Harry's scar was throbbing.

"I'mma 'fraid you misjudged the situation yer in, my lovely," Scabior mused. "Let's get this one to the Ministry."

"Take me to the Malfoys," she demanded. That stopped them in her tracks.

"You do realize your best chance of surviving this is to go to the Ministry, yes?" Scabior said carefully, half-amused. "You don' stand a chance with that lot."

"I beg to differ," she threw back. "Try me."

"Boss," one of the lackeys asked, "Why would a mudblood want to go to Malfoy Manor?"

Scabior hit him over the ear harshly. "She must not be a mudblood then, don't you think?" He turned and smiled at Sharlen, the blood seeping and spreading further into her shirt. "Malfoy Manor it is."

They Disapparated from the meadow, taking Sharlen with them. Her blood remained in the leaves where they'd stood.

The trio was quiet for a long time; eventually, Ron loosened his grip on Harry, who fell to all fours. Ron's mouth was dry as bone. "She told Kingsley to warn us at Bill and Fleur's wedding," he said quietly, staring at the spot where she was taken. "She saved my whole family."

Hermione had not left her knees. Finally, she whispered, "What have we done?"

Harry scrambled into the tent and rummaged through Hermione's beaded bag until he found the books. Dumping them onto the bed, he grabbed the little book from Sharlen and flipped to the page they'd used last. A new note read, "I will find you again."

Walking back outside, Harry held the notebook up high for Ron and Hermione to see. "She'll be back," he said simply.

"But Harry—" Ron started doubtfully.

"She'll find us," Harry said sternly. "She said she would."

"Harry, she's in a lot of trouble now…" Hermione tried to reason, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

"The Malfoys are the only ones who know who she is," Harry reasoned, feeling lightheaded. "They wouldn't dare hurt her. None of the other Death Eaters know about her, so if she fought them at the Ministry and escaped, I'm sure they have no idea who they were dealing with. But the Malfoys will." Harry turned away to where she disappeared and focused on the enormous task ahead of him—trying to have faith in the daughter of his enemy. Her blood shone in the morning sun. "She's tough. She'll find us."

"Do you really think she knows where the Horcruxes are?" Ron asked warily. "I know she saved us at the wedding, sending Kingsley… but can we trust her with this?"

Harry's heart was aching for the girl they'd just seen torn away, unable to stop seeing the blood seeping through her clothes. He covered his face with his hands as the pain in his head ebbed further and further away. Ever since learning of her origin, he'd been unable to reconcile his feelings for her—and in light of Dumbledore's death and his mission to destroy Horcruxes, he felt guilty for allowing his confusion to take precedence in his mind. But seeing her again had been agony beyond his scar hurting; he pined for the nights she'd slept curled up in his lap in the Common Room, head on his chest, the weight of her becoming familiar and endlessly comforting. His draw to her didn't hinge on logic or reason; from that night he met her in the Owlery and kissed her, every inch of him needed to be next to her. Feeling so lost with Dumbledore gone, he'd had to admit to himself that he craved her reassurance. And now she was in danger, and there was nothing he could do.

And she was Voldemort's daughter.

"I don't know," he answered finally, a painful edge in his voice.

Hermione sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder miserably. "We know you loved her, Harry," was all she said.

There was nothing he could say.

Ron walked outside their enchantments to where Sharlen and the Snatchers had disappeared. With his good arm, he reached down to pick up the bloody bottle of dittany she left behind for them. He walked back to the other two, holding it out for Hermione.

As she reached out to take it from him, Harry turned away, unable to stand the sight of her blood.

Apparating outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix was coming up the walk from the house to meet them. Upon getting closer, Sharlen, struggling in her binds, saw Bellatrix's face contort with horror and outrage; with a wave of her wand the gates burst open and with another sharp slice through the air she threw the men back away from her. Sharlen's binds vanished and she took a deep breath, steadying herself as the cuts stung harshly in the early autumn chill, ears ringing.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR HEADS?!" Bellatrix screamed at them, running to Sharlen. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH THE DARK CHILD—"

"Oh, please do not keep calling me that," Sharlen growled, rolling her eyes.

"SPILLING HER BLOOD—YOU—THIS IS AN OUTRAGE—" Bellatrix continued bellowing, gesturing wildly to Sharlen's freely bleeding cuts.

"I'm fine, Bellatrix," Sharlen said in a bored tone. She turned her back to the Snatchers and raised her hand to send the gates banging shut before them. "Don't come here again without Harry Potter himself," she called to them over her shoulder, walking away toward the main entrance of the manor, Bellatrix practically falling down around her as they went.

"Kill them myself—if your father knew—that's his blood they've spilled, like it was nothing—"

"This is my blood, first of all," Sharlen growled at her, walking up the steps, "And you can't just kill the head werewolf or all the other ones will abandon our cause."

"You're right, of course, my Princess…" Bellatrix groveled lowly, bowing as she followed her up the stairs. "But how did you…?"

"It is none of your concern," Sharlen snapped. Bellatrix called for her sister Narcissa shrilly and she appeared at once, Draco by her side.

"Who was…?" she began, but she stopped dead seeing Sharlen cross the threshold of the manor. Draco just stared. "Who hurt you?" she said instead, urgently changing her tune.

"Snatchers," she muttered. Lucius appeared at the base of the stairs as well, looking more disheveled than she'd ever seen him, the lustre gone from his white blond hair and deep circles under his eyes. He hadn't shaved in weeks. "They're gone now."

"You're bleeding," Draco said, walking up to her.

"Don't touch me," she snapped at him, pulling away like a feral animal when he reached for the hem of her blood-stained shirt. Ignoring her, Draco took out his wand and muttered Vulnera Sanentur under his breath to heal her wounds. She looked at him meaningfully, knowing he'd kept that one from Snape healing him last year at Hogwarts; she was sure it came in handy with Lucius around. His eyes were apologetic; he knew she would never forgive him for trying to kill Dumbledore, no matter the circumstances.

"Very good Draco," Bellatrix said breathily, staring hard at Sharlen. She always acted this way around her. "The Dark Lord will be very appreciative of you healing his daughter…"

"You'll need some different clothes, Sharlen," Narcissa said, gesturing her over. "Come. We'll find you something."

"Thank you Narcissa," she said quietly, following her up the winding banister, stopping briefly next to Lucius to growl, "You're scum," before continuing up the stairs. If Narcissa heard, she gave no notice.

Sharlen held back next to the master four-poster bed distractedly while Narcissa brought out some new black robes for her to wear. Sharlen thanked her, hoping Harry, Ron, and Hermione heard her getting the Snatchers off their trail. "How long has my father's name been Taboo?" she asked after a minute.

"Since the Ministry takeover," Narcissa responded through her teeth, "The Dark Lord thought it would better help us weed out those unfaithful who dare speak his name. He is very clever."

"This is fine, thank you," Sharlen said politely, changing in front of her. Narcissa watched, wincing at the angry cuts that still marked her body even after Draco's healing.

"The Dark Lord really would want those men dead for marking you up like that," she started. Sharlen didn't say a word. "Where have you been?" Narcissa asked, eyeing Sharlen's prominent ribs. "You really must stay here with us. We didn't even know you left this morning. Surely The Dark Lord would want—"

"I have to go to Hogwarts," Sharlen said, cutting her off.

Narcissa nodded, a quick, dodgy movement. "With Severus, of course."

"Is Draco safer here than at Hogwarts, you think?" Sharlen shot at her, slipping on the robes. Narcissa's aura sparked orange. "Or should I take him with me?"

"This is where we need to be," is all she said. "Where I can keep an eye on him."

Sharlen straightened up, staring her down. The mother didn't budge. "Maybe I will stay here for a few days to be sure," she said finally, sweeping away down the stairs.

To Bellatrix's delight and the Malfoys' chagrin, her father and Master Severus promptly took it upon themselves to visit late after the Sorting Ceremony was over. Walking into the drawing room in hopes of finding something to busy her mind, she was startled to see her father standing with Snape by the bay windows. They both turned to see her.

"Father," she said shortly, trying to steady her breathing as she took a seat before them on the couch. Her eyes flitted to Snape's and she muttered, "Headmaster…"

"Yes, congratulations continue to be in order…" Voldemort said, grinning and looking to Snape. Her Master curled one side of his lips up to oblige him and stood stony still. The smile did not reach his eyes.

Nagini slithered heavily across the floor from her father's shoulders toward Sharlen, her great, heavy body one large muscle perfectly honed. She raised her large head from the floor by Sharlen's knees, coiling underneath herself. "Sister," she said in a short, harsh hiss.

Sharlen glanced up at Draco, quite pale behind her father, then looked back at the snake coolly. She reached out to stroke her cold, textured skin in greeting. "Hello, sister."

Watching her speak Parselmouth to the snake, Draco looked even more stricken, transfixed on the two.

Nagini slithered up onto the couch beside Sharlen, her head still while her huge body climbed and coiled at her side. "That owl of yours looks like a fine snack," she hissed, her jaw leaning against Sharlen's bicep as if she were whispering gossip to her sister at a slumber party.

Sharlen frowned at Nagini and grabbed her jaw, the snake's mouth widening a few inches reproachfully. "Don't you dare. I mean it. He is family, too."

Nagini snapped her great jaws and yanked out of her grip in a huff, sliding up over the back of the couch across Sharlen's shoulders. "You never let me have any fun…"

"Now, now girls, play nice," said Voldemort, his high, cold voice frankly delighted. He gestured Sharlen toward him. "I'd been wondering where you've been, Sharlen. One day out of Severus's care and you see fit to wander?"

Sharlen stood and walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of him. Nagini remained on the couch, watching. Sharlen felt nothing but ill standing before her father, but she remembered what Dumbledore said about espionage, and gave him a smile. "Surely you can understand the draw of freedom, father. I've seen so little of the world."

He laughed low in his throat. He was looking at her as affectionately as he was capable; Sharlen was more interested in the quiet dread permeating from Snape. "That I can, for there is power in going off on your own… but there are many who would wish you harm, Sharlen. We still have a war to win. You'll have everything once we're finally unopposed, as I've said before."

"Now that we have the Ministry I figured it was a good time while I'm no one to anyone," she said simply. "Who would want to harm me?"

"Harry Potter," he said coldly, dangerously. She flinched. "And quite the contrary, you are everything to me." Voldemort looked up while Sharlen's mind raced. "Where are our hosts that they leave their Lord so unbidden?"

"Here, my Lord," came Lucius's voice, bringing his family further into the room. She watched Draco carefully as he came to stand beside her, clearly feeling uneasy but perhaps a bit braver by her side. He looked at her for a few seconds, meeting her eyes, then looked away to the ground.

Voldemort had seen. "Quite a pair… Wouldn't you say, Lucius?" his high voice came coldly, not looking away from Sharlen and Draco.

Lucius Malfoy shuddered under his breath and stepped forward with a small, tentative, "My Lord…?" Snape's eyes were darting between Voldemort and Sharlen apprehensively.

"I see a powerful, pure future here, perhaps…" he hissed, his eyes full of malice, his mouth curled into a wicked grin as his gaze bore into Sharlen's. "Our children have been together all their lives, it seems only fitting they remain together and strengthen the wizarding blood lines…"

Sharlen felt a lurch in her stomach and couldn't bare to see Draco's reaction; nervous as he was around Voldemort, surely he was tantalized by this prospect. Narcissa made a sound like a frightened bird and then fell silent again immediately, but Sharlen saw in the bright yellow of her aura that sharing a grandchild with Lord Voldemort was more than she could stand the idea of. An image of Harry flashed hopelessly in her mind and she looked to the ground, unable to stand the smirk on her father's face and forcing her mind to be as blank as possible. Snape and Narcissa barely dared to breathe.

"But my lord, they are s-so young still…" Lucius stuttered uselessly, a pale, weak smile feigning good nature.

Voldemort rounded on him immediately. "Are you not honored by my very suggestion that my daughter have anything to do with your bloodline, Lucius?" he shouted, and Lucius backed away a few steps, head bowed, muttering his apologies.

"Father, please," Sharlen said in a small voice, "There will be plenty of time for that later."

Satisfied, Voldemort gave her a slow nod. "Now my dear, I have much to do, so I think it best you stay here with the Malfoys and not go running off by yourself, as it's been decided. I can't afford to be worrying about you."

"You don't need to worry about me," she insisted, taking a step forward. Snape sighed, frustrated by her defiance.

"My Lord, perhaps Sharlen would do best at Hogwarts with the Carrows and I after all? Where I can continue to watch her?" he suggested, giving her a meaningful look.

"I don't think so, Severus," Voldemort said darkly. "Your teachers know who she is and so, by now, will most of the students. I can't risk her safety or anonymity in that environment."

Sharlen was having a hard time understanding why her father was so worried about her whereabouts and safety. He'd ordered her to be locked up most of her life, and now that they were nearing the climax of all of this… What did he care if she was killed? It wasn't like she was doing anything to further his aims. In his mind, she was doing nothing at all.

"You can't expect me to stay here. I'm of age," she said defiantly. Her father laughed quietly, amused. "You can't keep me in a cage while you're off trying to take over the world."

"Teenage rebellion. How predictable," he laughed darkly. "Everyone in this entire world who doesn't wish you harm," he said, gesturing widely with his arms, "is in this room. That's your lot in life. This is all you have."

He grabbed her left arm suddenly and she felt the vision as if a truck had hit her; his long nails piercing her flesh as she struggled to pull away from him, and Sharlen watched the vision of her father being reborn just over two years ago, emerging from the giant cauldron, Wormtail bringing him his robes. She could almost feel the warmth of the cauldron fire on her face.

Voldemort rammed the tip of his wand into her forearm and she cried out in pain as she felt the Dark Mark etching itself permanently into her skin. Nagini gave a harsh, excited hiss somewhere behind her.

He let her go and Sharlen fell to her knees, Draco not far behind her, though he didn't dare touch her. His hands hovered a few inches from her, unsure of what to do. Her sight returned, Sharlen stared at the raised, angry black mark, devastated and willing tears not to well up. She failed. "Long overdue. So you never forget where your loyalties were born to lie…" her father hissed at her. She couldn't meet his eyes. Summoning Snape, Lucius, and Bellatrix to follow him, Voldemort began to walk from the room. Nagini followed him heavily, brushing past Sharlen where she sat staring at her arm.

Voldemort called back, "I will call on you often enough so you won't feel too locked up. Your time is coming, my girl."

Sharlen spent that night out in the garden, watching the Malfoy's white peacocks, trying to think of what to do next. She had no idea how to help Harry if she was stuck here. Before dawn it had occurred to her that the Malfoys kept a large array of dark magical objects in their home, and it wasn't completely unlikely one of her father's Horcruxes was hidden here.

She glared ahead at the birds as though it were her fault her arm ached from the new Dark Mark etched permanently in her skin. She went over the Horcruxes she knew of in her mind over and over, recalling what she had written to Harry earlier in the day. Yes, she would find him again—as soon as she had accomplished something to ease his burden.

Changing pace, she spent the next several weeks haunting the Malfoy's manor, searching high and low for clues as to what her father had used for the remaining Horcruxes. She knew Harry must still be looking for the locket; if she found it and brought it to him, destroyed, would he forgive her?

She decided she'd leave the secret chamber under the drawing-room floor for last. Wormtail was staying down there, and if anything went south, she would lose the opportunity to search the main of the house as undisturbed as possible.

Lucius made himself extremely scarce while Sharlen was with them, and that made Draco much more pleasant to be around. Often, she had a hard time shaking off him and Bellatrix.

Bellatrix had enjoyed fleeing every few days or so to do an errand for Voldemort almost as much as she enjoyed gloating to Sharlen about Voldemort entrusting her to keep certain things in her Gringotts vault for him. She surely felt this would be a way to get Sharlen to warm up to her, and after some well-placed false interest, Bellatrix let slip that the sword of Gryffindor was in there.

"What would my father want with that?" Sharlen asked harshly. The ringing in her head was making her more irritable by the day. It wasn't constant, but it was more prevalent now that she was at the Manor all the time.

"All powerful magical objects should belong to him," she said as though this was obvious. "He gave me very specific instructions for that one."

Sharlen looked down at her hands in her lap, thinking hard. The sword of Gryffindor… What other magical object was Gryffindor associated with? She had never considered that her father might be interested in an object from the fourth founder, since it was the rival house of his own and he was the Heir of Slytherin… but if he had made objects from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff into Horcruxes, she couldn't deny that there was a possibility he'd do the same to something belonging to Gryffindor. But the sword? It had been called to Harry in the past; certainly something of that nature would no longer yield its original powers once it had been tainted with a ripped part of a soul…

Then why would her father want it kept safe? Or did he just not want someone else to have it?

Bellatrix was jabbering on, cackling evilly at her own jokes as they watched the albino peacocks strut about the yard. With a lazy wave of her wand, Bellatrix transfigured one of them into a small lizard and snickered while the others chased after it hungrily. Sharlen squinted in disgust as two caught it by either end and quickly tore it apart, a third squawking angrily. "Funny how even if something's not the way it appears, it doesn't stand a chance," Bellatrix mused, standing and walking toward the house. Surprised, Sharlen watched her go, remembering how Harry had shouted at her when they last saw each other and worrying she was exactly right.