Ava stayed curled up under that tree for hours with her head feeling like it was splitting open. Her scar had stopped bleeding after the first 10 minutes, but the migraine remained. She was in so much pain that she never noticed the sky darkening and her relatives coming home. She didn't notice the temperature dropping as night descended, or her aunt looking at her prone form in disgust as she locked the door and left her niece outside unable to get in.

She woke up late that night and realized that at some point she had passed out. Thankfully her head was no longer hurting, but just to make sure, she tightened her Occlumency barriers as tightly as she could. She strengthened them so much that she probably wouldn't be able to feel it if, for some reason, he tried to mess with their connection again. She was in no way a machinist and had no inclination to test those waters again.

Ava pushed herself into a sitting position and just leaned back against the tree, gazing up at the shadowy leaves, darkened by the night. She had no way to tell how late it was, but if she had to guess, she would say some time after midnight.

She thought about her relatives and wondered how they would react in the morning. The girl didn't even try to get into the house, knowing it would be locked tight and any attempt to enter would be futile. She didn't even contemplate knocking, knowing how painful that would turn out. She wondered if they would just ignore it since she got her chores completed, or punish her for potentially being seen by the neighbors.

The raven haired girl shivered as a soft breeze blew over her, the ratty, too large t-shirt doing nothing to protect her from the cool night air. She just thanked her lucky stars that it wasn't raining. With a soft sigh, Ava resigned herself to a long, uncomfortable night and tried to get as much sleep against the rough tree bark as she could, knowing the next morning was going to be rough, either from her relatives punishing her or from being worked like a slave while exhausted.

The sun was barely rising when she was awakened with a sharp jab from a pointed high-heeled shoe. Thankfully no punishment seemed to be coming, but the chore list that her aunt shoved in her face with a nasty sneer was twice as long as usual.

The next few days were full of nothing but chores and acting invisible. She was thankful that her relatives seemed to be ignoring her for the most part, but it was a bit odd to be standing in a room and having someones eyes pass over you like you're not even there. Ava really couldn't decide what was worse, being locked in a room all day with nothing to do, or being worked to the point of collapse yet being able to be outside.

Her list consisted of vacuuming the whole house, dusting, moping the floor, taking out the trash, mowing the lawn, tending to the garden, weed-eating, cleaning the gutters, grocery shopping, cooking every meal, and even washing the outside of the house and the cars. One day she had to repaint the living room and another she was forced to re-tile the bathroom. After re-tiling it she had to bleach the tub and toilet after thoroughly cleaning both.

All of that she had to do without protective gear, not even gloves. Ava's hands were covered in bruises and cuts, some of which were turning slightly red, showing possible infection. She was sure she would never get the paint out from under her nails or off of her skin. She had been forced to cut her once waist-length, black hair after it started to get matted form lack of care, as well as covered in paint. It now brushed her chin in a curly, choppy mess. She hated it. Ava had never been vain, exactly, but she had loved her long, wild hair. Even if it was a pain to take care of.

She was so exhausted after a week of this treatment that she could barely even think. Her limbs shook from the constant work and she nearly killed herself by stumbling when she was washing a knife. With barely having anything to drink and even less to eat ever since she got there, starvation and dehydration were taking their toll.

When her day finally ended, well after 10 o'clock at night, she was allowed a cheese sandwich and a small glass of water before being locked into her room for the night. With a huff, she flopped onto her hard mattress and just stared blurry-eyed at the ceiling.

"Potter."

Ava barely even blinked at the voice. She was too tired to even care that her occlumency seemed to have failed and the Dark Lord was waltzing around in her head. She didn't answer him. It would have been too much effort. Her mind felt blank.

"Answer me girl."

She nearly groaned at the demand. Couldn't he leave her alone? Just let her die peacefully.

"Ava Potter!"

She did groan that time and forced herself to turn into her stomach where she could bury her head into her flat pillow in the vain attempt to drowned his voice out. Even if she wasn't on the brink of collapse she probably wouldn't have answered. Even if it had been her fault, she did not want a repeat of what happened if she accidentally thought something that he didn't like.

"If you do not answer me girl, I may just have to go torture a certain family of blood-traitors." Even in her head she could feel his sadistic smile.

Irritation sparked through her, temporarily lifting the veil of exhaustion enough for her to snap, "please just piss off."

"Do you know how long its been since I've been told to piss off? Actually, I've never been told to piss off."

Was the Dark Lord trying to start a conversation with her? What the hell? Wasn't he trying to give her brain damage the other day?

"I'm sure a lot of people have thought it." She answered with a resigned air. The witch just didn't have the energy or will to throw him out.

She felt amusement as he answered, "but none have been brave, or foolish, enough to say it out loud."

"Probably why your ego could fill Hogwarts." She thought with a yawn.

She felt his amusement again and wondered what on earth had the man in such a good mood. The last few times they've had these "conversations" he felt irritated but tolerant at best. Maybe a burst of amusement sprinkled in but mostly just annoyed.

"I've had a string of good fortune lately." He answered her curiosity, knowing her question even if she didn't fully think it.

"Oh? In the mood to share?" She thought back with a slightly lethargic edge, her eyes closing tiredly.

A deep laugh was her answer as well as, "Not this time Potter. Can't have the enemy knowing my plans after all."

"Makes sense…" her thoughts started to slow.

"You sound tired girl. Passed your bedtime?" His tease might have annoyed her if she wasn't half asleep already.

"Slave work is tiring." She would have been mortified, both at what she had thought as well as the whine that she thought it in, had she been fully aware of it.

"Go to sleep girl." He sounded exasperated.

"Not the boss of me." She said both out loud and in her head..

She fell asleep to more amused laughter from her enemy.

In the morning Ava would wonder if she had had an actual civil conversation with Lord Voldemort, or if it had been a really weird dream. And if it had been real, why had he contacted her anyway? What had been the point?

The Dark Lord

Lord Voldemort tried to not think of the Thorn in his Side Potter for the rest of the week following the accidentally made comment and his resulting fury. If he didn't think about it, then the guilt he felt for the 8 hour long migraine he had given her was easy to pretend wasn't real.

Even if he acknowledged how he felt, he would never apologize. His pride would not allow it. Just like he knew she would never apologize for what she thought. He may not know as much about his enemy as he would like, but he recognized pride and an unbreakable will when he saw it. They happen to share that trait.

Ignoring the Potter Problem, The Dark Lord was rather pleased with how his revolution was going. Even with the masses finally realizing that he was indeed back, he was still able to make some headway. He had followers in nearly every department in the ministry, including the Department of Mysteries and the DMLE. A quarter of the Wizengamot were marked followers and another quarter were sympathizers. He had his most loyal followers out of Azkaban and the Light Side wasn't even training the one person that could supposedly defeat him.

Life was good for the Dark Lord at the moment.

In other news, his side project of discovering more about the Potter girl wasn't yielding many results. Careful questioning revealed that no one that would actually give him the information knew where the girl lived. Severus knew she lived with her aunt and uncle from her mother's side, but was under oath to never reveal the information.

Voldemort new better than to listen to anything the Malfoy's had to say about her and none of his other followers' children really payed attention to her. The only useful thing he learned came from the Zabini boy, a neutral sympathizer but not an actual follower.

Blaise Zabini was a quiet boy, and very observant. According to him, Potter was also more of the watchful type. She hated attention and preferred to go about unnoticed. He also shares his suspicions that she didn't have the best home-life. She was the shortest in their year, and even the year younger than them. She was unnaturally thin and never initiated physical contact with anyone. She also got really stiff if anyone touched her. All signs that she wasn't the pampered princess that Severus and the Malfoys painted her to be.

But this didn't answer all of his questions about the girl. If fact, it increased his curiosity. Who exactly was Ava Potter? Why did she fight for those that could obviously not care less about her person? Was she truly the Lights Savior, or was she a snake in the grass? Past conversations with her made him lean towards the later.

It was nearly a week since the last time they spoke that Lord Voldemort felt the connection between them open on her side. With careful prodding, he deduced that the witch was too exhausted to keep her shields up. She didn't even realize they were down.

He sat there contemplating getting her attention. The Girl had been diligent in keeping her shields fully up, so for them to suddenly drop and for her mind to be rather blank, it was slightly worrying. Not that Lord Voldemort would ever acknowledge being worried about the brat. Not at all.

"Potter." He called to her before he could change his mind.

It took threatening her friends to get her attention and he really couldn't help the amusement that followed her reply. No one told him to piss off without the fear of being cruciod. Usually he would feel at least a little irritated by her audacity but he was just relieved that she actually answered. Thankfully, no one would ever know that little tid-bit, not even her.

The Dark Lord was actually a little bit irritated with himself if he was being honest. Worrying for his enemy? He was getting soft. He made a mental note to go torture Wormtail at some point to make sure he wasn't losing his touch.

The fact that she admitted to being treated like a slave was slightly shocking. He knew the only reason she even let that slip was because she was barely conscience. And instead of pressing the advantage and getting more answers from her like he should have done while she was weak and more than likely to answer truthfully, he told her to go to sleep.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated with himself. What kind of dark lord was he? He really was getting soft.

Swiftly getting to his feet, the man called for his soon to be victim. "Wormtail!" He didn't bother hiding his sadistic grin when the cowered scurried into his office.

The little rat-man whimpered.