Disclaimer: Neither the story or the characters belong to me, they are the property of J.K. Rowling and Parvati-Blossom. I am just a humble translator who wanted to share this amazing story with all of you.

Warning: This story contains strong language and images. We are dealing with the dark side here! Please keep that in mind.

A/N: As usual, I apologize for the wait. And as I have no real excuse beyond "life", let us get on with the story.

ENJOY! (And please review!)

Chapter 16

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

February 6th, 2005

Time: 9:00PM

It was his fault.

He had never felt such strong pain in his head. His repressed memories were slowly returning and reorganizing, encouraged by the path Filldeserp had set after his Legilimency attack. He was reliving every scene clearly; a hell of its own.

He could have acted differently in many occasions. He could have never received that mysterious letter, or could have taken it to Dumbledore to have him examine it. He could have ignored the calling and remained in Grimmauld Place. He could have notified the Order of his visions, or talked to Harry about them. He could have embraced death instead of sacrificing Hermione's parents for his survival. He could have admitted the truth to the Order. He could have hidden the truth as much as the lie he had used to save himself.

He now knew Harry would have never spoken the truth. If he had not done it for self-defense, he would have not done it for justice either… For himself, for Ron, for Hermione, he would have remained silent.

But above all, he knew he had failed his best friends. He had become the Peter Pettigrew of the golden trio, pretending to be innocent behind the culpability of Sirius Black… in this case, Harry Potter.

Out of cowardice. To survive. Out of envy. Out of guilt.

He had been an instrument at Voldemort's hands to throw Harry into the abyss, to show him how fragile a friendship could be even after seven years together; how fragile human nature and the ideals of the Light were.

If only he had been capable to get over the mask of the golden boy protected by Dumbledore, Head Boy, exemplar student… and if he could have ignored that image in which Harry had hidden himself to hide his grief, to not reveal his darkness… If he had been the friend he had always claimed he was, could he have saved Harry? Could he have saved the magical community from the horror of that dark era?

Could he have redeemed himself?

He cried like he had never before, overwhelmed by reality and the past. He cried because both the truth and the lie had been destructive and ravenous… and he had no sanctuary anymore. He had been responsible for each one of his actions. He had to admit it. He had to pay for it.

Ronald Weasley took his wand and pointed it at himself.

The only price worthy of the bloodshed was more blood.

He wished he could apologize again to Harry and Hermione, even if he could never obtain their forgiveness.

But that was it.

"Expelliarmus!"

Before he could finish with his life, his sister took his wand away. He saw her blurry image through his tears, also crying and kneeling in front of him. He noticed her sad, defeated, and angry at the same time, alive like a flame.

She slapped him.

"Do you think Luna risked her life so you could kill yourself?" She yelled. "That's not the way!"

"You don't understand, Ginny," Ron answered holding himself, trying to find the way to tear his skin with his nails and bleed.

"I understand that you've always been a coward. I just didn't know how much of one you were," she accused him. "Why did you lie, Ron?"

He shook his head, empty of words to justify himself.

Ginny's look softened and she hugged him.

"We believed we were so grown up, didn't we?" she whispered in his ear. "We had already faced so many death eaters before we left Hogwarts. We were capable of defending ourselves, we didn't need to hide behind our parents… but we forgot that everything had been possible because we were a team. We had the best friends covering our backs, shielding us, not letting us be intimidated by a Dark Lord and a few death eaters… we were teenagers pretending to be grownups, and we believed we had all the answers… but that was all we were: teenagers."

The excuse sounded empty on Ron's ears. He had killed for the first time when he was seventeen, pressured by a Dark Lord with a death threat. But he had chosen it.

"You were deceived, like many others before you, Ron," Ginny told him, holding his hands and looking at him in the eyes, not ashamed of him, not hating him. "Of the only thing you are absolutely guilty of is lying and rejecting your best friend… of not facing the facts."

He wanted to believe her, but even with the weight of death, betrayal was more overwhelming than anything else.

"I can't live with this, Ginny…" he confessed. "I think that was why I suppressed everything… why I was able to lie even to myself. It's… terrible. I can't…"

"The Order will forgive you, Ron," she comforted him. "You can live to take the guilt and overcome it, but in a fair and balanced way."

"I can't keep being an auror, Ginny. I can't defend something I've destroyed…" he paused, watching his deceitful white and clean hands. "I can't fight against them… I can't."

"Then… what will you do?" His sister asked confused by his answer.

"I don't know."

He looked around him. They were in the healer section. They were receiving the wounded from the attack to the Fortress and were taking care of them as best as they could with only a few resources available since Saint Mungo's was not trustworthy anymore. On a bed near to where he was he found Luna, pale and sleeping.

He felt more guilty. She had been hurt trying to defend him. Filldeserp had been about to kill him and, instead, had almost killed Luna.

He closed his eyes, grieving, remembering the attack and the surprising mercy Voldemort's heir had shown when he allowed them to escape and save Luna.

Neville was standing by their friend's bed. He seemed defeated.

"We would have been capable of killing a child," he said when both Weasleys got close. "What have we become?"

Ron felt another stab on his stomach. He had forgotten. He had almost killed Hermione and her baby. He had been the only one truly convinced of the value of the mission from among the four of them. He had been willing to justify the means for the end.

Now, he could not even remember what was the end.

"I thought we were fighting for peace… for justice… for order," Neville whispered. "But we were willing to kill an innocent child."

The silence drowned them.

While every wounded was still celebrating the advance the Light had by attacking the headquarters of their enemies, they were suffering the worst defeat, lived and consumed. The destruction of everything they had known.

"She's dead! Filldeserp's wife has been murdered!" A ministry employee joyfully announced arriving from the battlefield.

There were exclamations of cheer to the sign of apparent victory.

They trembled and leaned on the beds and chairs near them to remain standing. Neville was laughing, empty, almost deliriously. Ginny was looking at Luna, remembering the last words she had heard from Hermione after she had saved her friend's life, and she cried. Ron felt his world vanished.

Hermione had died.

He screamed, frustrated, angry, inconsolable, impotent.

He should have died that august night in 1997.

She should have survived that February night in 2005.

He let himself fall.

Time: 11PM

"She fell asleep," Lucas whispered.

Far from his daughter.

Francisco and Javier were sitting by his side, trying to be understanding. Dumbledore was standing a few steps from the bed were the girl was sleeping under the effects of a charm.

Since they had apparated in the Headquarters of the Order and abandoned the Fortress, Cecilia's magic had lost all control. She had created a magical bubble around her that stopped any kind of contact and, even if she was not completely conscious, she had screamed in pain and with all her strength until Dumbledore had intervened.

He had only been able to affect her after several attempts, once the girl's magic was exhausted enough to reduce the strength of her shield. Nevertheless, the old man had suggested not getting in physical contact with her until she was completely aware of the situation as another attack would occur.

"Why did she react like that?" Javier asked.

"It is possible her magic has labeled you as enemies or as a possible threat," Dumbledore answered, "and it is only trying to defend Cecilia. But…" The wizard frowned and fixed his glasses. "It's very powerful magic for a girl… how old is she?"

"Six, almost seven… her birthday is in March."

"How long was she held by Filldeserp?" Lucas closed his eyes, feeling the pain of every day he had spent apart from his daughter.

"A year."

"Do you remember any manifestation of magic then?"

"No, of course not…" he looked at his daughter and his anger intensified. "What did they do to her?"

"They could not have developed her magic so quickly or so advanced," Dumbledore concluded ignoring the auror's question. "This is beyond common magic." His eyes looked intensely at Lucas. "She is an elemental."

The three aurors were left with their mouths open to such news. Francisco jumped from his chair, suddenly inspired.

"That was how she survived when those rocks fell on her!" He yelled, fascinated.

"And that is why Filldeserp has so much interest in her…" Javier muttered. "He recruits grown elementals desperately… But to have the opportunity to raise one…"

"But that doesn't explain how he knew she was an elemental when he kidnapped her," Lucas said. "It's impossible. Any traumatic event can expose the powers of an elemental at a young age and Cecilia had not…"

He went silent, alarmed, when he noticed how Dumbledore's face had lost color. The old man looked at Cecilia, horrified, with the spark of understanding glowing in his eyes. He then turned to look at the aurors and they could see the traces of tears in his eyes.

"Lucas… Cecilia's powers were revealed when she was kidnapped," he expressed, with a tone that resembled a scream of desperation. "Young elementals look immediately for a mentor who will help them balance their element, as they do not have the control to do it on their own… and if Filldeserp was there… then… he is Cecilia's mentor."

"And what does that mean?" Francisco asked, not understanding the drama behind his deduction.

"Away from Filldeserp, Cecilia's element is… chaos."

"Let's cut the link that joins her to him, then! Let's find an elemental to replace him!" Lucas suggested, willing to move heaven and earth to find a solution.

"The only way to destroy the elemental bond is death, Lucas," Dumbledore explained. "It is only then when Cecilia's element will recognize another tutor. In the meantime, the longer and farther she is from Filldeserp…" the old man closed his eyes. "She will suffer, Lucas. Cecilia will suffer."

The Spanish auror screamed with impotence and took his hands to his face, mentally looking for any clues, possibilities, to change the facts. He could not stand the refusal and impossibility in Dumbledore's expression. He could not stand the looks of his partners. But above all, he would be incapable to see his little girl suffer, in the same way he would be incapable to give her back to that monster.

He would kill Filldeserp, as soon as possible. However, in the meantime, how could he confront his daughter's affection?

"Albus, we are ready," Minerva McGonagall interrupted from the door not paying attention to the Spanish. She was dressed for a duel.

Dumbledore put his hand on Lucas' shoulder trying to give him courage but only giving him more anguish.

"I must take care of something else…" the old man excused himself. "We will find a way, Lucas. For now, rest. She will not wake up until noon, most likely."

He closed the door behind him.

He had closed more than a door in the London headquarters: he had sealed the future for Lucas and Cecilia.

February 7th, 2005

Time: 7AM

"I am sorry I asked you to be here so early, but this is an emergency meeting," Dumbledore said as he greeted the Order.

Present were all the members of the Order. Luna had recovered, although she was not to overwork herself at risk of reopening her wound. In the same way, most members were showing some bandages, but all enjoying good health. They had no losses to mourn, although there had been several losses in Ministry aurors and other personnel.

The only empty chairs were those of Remus, Tonks, and Jones.

"Before everthing, we must celebrate our partial victory over the Dark," Dumbledore proposed. "Even if we were not able to invade the Fortress, at least for the moment the Dark Lords will not dare to settle in their general headquarters while we have the coordinates."

There were pleased smiles and cheering. For months the Dark Order had controlled the war, but the light had finally been able to shake that supposed stability and renew the trust and hopes for the triumph of the magical community.

"Several spies showed their true colors. In what concerns the Ministry, Gilbert Whimple supported the death eaters. We… discovered Megan Jones next to Filldeserp during the battle. We even believe she communicated with him the moment she heard of the attack, although she was not able to give him an advantage."

There were exclamations of anger to such news.

"Another betrayal we regret, double this time, was that of the Lupins."

Almost everyone present sat straighter on their chairs, surprised. The news had not spread and were not expected. Remus had been a member of the first Order of the Phoenix and the same loyalty was expected from Tonks, the skilled auror and relentless defender of the light.

"After Hermione Granger's death Remus moved the corpse to his home, protecting it from the battle and hosting Filldeserp himself. Some of us witnessed Hermione's death and how Remus could have taken the opportunity to apprehend Filldeserp, but instead, spoke to him and helped him." Dumbledore made a dramatic pause to allow the audience to process the information. "When we went to the house hours later, both he and Tonks admitted treason and Filldeserp interrupted the encounter, presumably to protect them."

Silence. Most of them could not believe it. The Dark Lord had protected two members of the Order of the Phoenix when he could have left them to face their chances?

"Since then, we have not heard from them."

"You promised you would protect her!" A figure yelled from the corner of the room. Every member turned, surprised, as they had not noticed her presence.

It was a blond woman wearing sophisticated clothes. Some of them recognized her from her role as potions professor at Hogwarts, but most were not aware of the purpose of her presence in that meeting since she had never professed preference for light magic.

It was Alice Kolberg.

"Alice, please, calm down…" Dumbledore asked.

"The only thing I asked you in exchange was for you to keep her away from Filldeserp! And you gave her to the werewolf!" The woman's anger was obvious with every step she took closer to the old professor. "You said you trusted he would never give her to Filldeserp. And now?"

"Alice, we will take her back." The woman huffed to Dumbledore's promise, crossed her arms and held back her response. Albus turned to face the rest of the members. "This is Alice Kolberg, our precious spy in Voldemort's inner circle. After what happened last night, she will not be able to provide us information, but…"

"You murdered Granger," Kingsley said, recognizing her. Alice sneered at him and then gave him a deadly expression.

"Yes. I have done Filldeserp a favor by removing the dirt he was adding to his lineage through that mudblood."

"Hermione was pregnant," Dumbledore clarified to the confused expressions of the Order. He then looked at Ginny, who nodded to his request.

"Neville, Luna, Ron, and I discovered it yesterday while we were looking for Filldeserp before the attack. We found Hermione and offered to rescue her, but she refused… and informed us of the pregnancy. We insisted we would protect the child, but… she rejected our help and…"

"We dueled with her until Filldeserp showed up. Then, Luna was hurt and we had to return," Neville finished.

The report provoked bittersweet expression in the Order. Many seemed relieved Filldeserp's child and his wife had been eliminated, while others seemed upset. Hermione had been their partner, and even if she had been declared a traitor, it was recent and too fast.

Ron clenched his fists under the table.

Luna placed her hand on one of them and gave him a sad smile.

"It has been, in broad terms, a great defeat for the Dark Lords," Dumbledore continued.

"What about the girl… your daughter, De Santos?" Shacklebolt questioned.

The three Spanish wore exhausted looks, although they tried to hide it with their indifference. However, Neville had never seen them so disheartened and he feared they had not reached Cecilia on time despite their best efforts.

"We rescued her," Lucas said slowly.

Alice, who had remained undisturbed since her outburst, laughed when she heard the report. Lucas could not hold back and was soon in front of her, with his wand on his hand. However, she was not intimidated, and instead, she seemed amused by his attitude.

"Damn snake… you knew this would happen," Lucas muttered.

"Of course," she gave him a wide smirk, showing her white teeth. "I warned you, didn't I?"

"You…" he pushed her against the wall and pointed his wand at her neck. She raised her chin with disdain.

"You wanted your daughter; I gave you the means to get her. Why aren't you showing any appreciation, darling?" Alice whispered with a flirty smile. "Sara would have wanted you to forgive her executioners, to be a magnificent example of a knight of the light for your daughter… You would have to be," she recommended in a serious tone in between her mocking. "That girl is destined to love darkness, Lucas."

"Don't you dare speak like that of Cecilia, don't you dare…" he replied and the death eater burst out laughing.

"She could have chosen me as a mentor, but she chose Filldeserp. Which soul do you think is more broken?"

Lucas took a step back, feeling disgust from that demonic creature.

"Why did you betray him if you glorify him so much?"

Her blue eyes clouded. After a moment, she set them on Dumbledore with all the hatred that a look could muster.

"My daughter is an elemental as well," she answered. "She still hasn't shown any characteristics, but I can feel her aura… with pride I would have offered her to Filldeserp for him to train her as he has trained Sheila, but…" her lip trembled. "She is an earth elemental. Those elementals have sworn, by their clan and magic, against the Dark Lord. She could never serve him… He will kill her!"

Her scream pierced the consciences of everyone present. Nobody moved or said a word as they observed that undaunted woman falling apart in front of them.

"And now… she is at his reach."

She laughed, empty and conquered.

"While you, De Santos, want to separate your daughter from Filldeserp when he will always want her and protect her, I, who wanted to serve him, had a daughter fated to be an enemy. Ironic, right?" Her rhetorical question shook the room, full of meaning. "If I had not come to the Order… perhaps I could have begged him for a quick death for her until there was no dust left in the world over which I could kneel," she muttered. "But I have murdered his wife and child."

Her laughter died and she showed them a sick and bitter smile.

"Perhaps it's true that every Malfoy is doomed for failure."

February 9th, 2005

Time: 11:15AM

"I am sorry, Lucas," Dumbledore. "There is only a small possibility we will recover Cecilia's true memories without breaking her mind in the process."

Lucas could not accuse him of not having tried. He had spent over half an hour inspecting Cecilia's mind with Legilimency, attempting not to show the girl any bad intentions so her element would not react. However, it might have been better to not find out as, with every new idea about Cecilia, they only found more and more manipulations from Filldeserp.

The girl remained apart from them, in a corner, holding herself. She sometimes cried, but she tried to hide it behind her blond hair. Other times she only looked at them challengingly and with distrust. It was not the image of an innocent six year old girl. She seemed to have the clarity of a teenager.

"Sheila," Lucas called her, slowly extending his hand to prevent scaring her, inviting her to sit with them.

He had given up on calling her by her real name. The moment she heard Cecilia she got upset, both emotionally and magically. His only hope had been to destroy the fake memories, but he could not risk the sanity of his daughter.

"Sheila, would you like to join us for supper?" Dumbledore proposed using his grandfatherly tone.

The girl hesitated for several minutes but she finally approached them, shakily. She was not close enough for them to touch her, but enough so they could look at her face and determine her state.

"Where is daddy?"

Lucas took a deep breath and tried to calm the anger firing up his blood. He was in front of her, but Sheila asked for Dymtrus. She would always ask for Dymtrus.

"And mommy? Where are they?"

She started hiccupping, probably because of the anxiety she felt when she saw their darkened expressions.

Dumbledore kneeled in front of her and gave her a sad smile.

"Wherever you are, they will be too. They will always be with you, little Sheila," he said. "But they had to go on a journey, so you will have to stay with us for some time, would that be alright?"

But the girl took a step back, not finding comfort in Dumbledore's words. Her blue eyes set on each one of them, waiting for a different answer, but nobody dared to speak the truth or lengthen the lie.

"You attacked my dad," Sheila said with determination. "You tried to hurt him."

"No, no. It was all a misunderstanding," Javier tried to excuse himself. "It was only a game… so you wouldn't be sad that he left. Did you not like the game?"

Sheila pierced him with her eyes. Her stance turned imperious as her courage increased, just like her mistrust.

"Where is the lord then? The lord always plays with me before we travel."

They hesitated, not knowing well who the girl was talking about. Lucas attempted to get closer, not able to stand the anguish that the abandonment was causing in her, but his daughter screamed and moved away, raising again the bubble of energy. With barely any consciousness of what she was doing, she extended her hand and small beams of light appeared, making his father take a step back.

Alice laughed from the door, entertained by the situation. Sheila calmed down when she noticed her presence, decreasing the intensity of her barrier.

"What are you doing here?" Lucas asked with disdain.

"I could not miss the show…" the blond laughed. "Four wizards, who have never spent time with an elemental, trying to convince her to trust in them."

"Any suggestions?" Francisco said with sarcasm.

Alice nodded with a smirk. Carefully, she got close to Sheila and kneeled, the way Dumbledore had done before. But the death eater had another factor in her favor.

She extended her hand and a series of bubbles came out. The girl observed her show practically hypnotized. They smiled to each other as if they were sharing a secret.

"You're an elemental," Lucas said.

"Yes… water." She smiled, making more bubbles and enjoying the girl's laughter.

"Sheila is… light?" Javier asked. The death eater nodded.

"Where is the lord?" Sheila asked Alice.

"He will come to find you soon, don't worry." She comforted her and caressed one of her curls.

"You can touch her!" Lucas exclaimed. Alice gave him a deadly smirk.

"Of course, I am a death eater and have been in touch with Filldeserp's element," she explained.

To emphasize her point, she pulled back her sleeve, showing her dark mark. The Spanish showed expressions of disgust, but Dumbledore looked at it with particular curiosity, as if he had never seen it before.

"Does it hurt, Alice?" The grown man asked. The death eater glared at him and fixed her robes, hiding the mark once more.

"Of course. It stings since the morning after the battle." She showed a painful expression. "Filldeserp loves to mess with my nerves."

"Is he expecting you to answer?" Javier asked sarcastically.

"Eventually I'll have to or I'll go mad," Alice answered, shrugging her shoulder. "Anyway, I am the closest this girl can find to him in this house, and that is what calms her down. Besides, we had seen each other before, hadn't we?"

Sheila nodded with a smile.

"Are they your friends?" The girl asked in a whisper.

"Something like that," Alice replied.

The barrier disappeared.

"Can you teach me to do those bubbles, please?" Sheila asked. "The lord would be so proud of me!"

"I'm sorry. That's something only I can do," Alice said. "But we can find something we can both do, what do you think?"

"Is that lord…" Javier started.

"Filldeserp, yes." Dumbledore and Alice finished in unison.

"Was he so caring with her?" Lucas asked with revulsion.

"Of course. The best way to insure that nobody will betray you is by reaching their hearts, De Santos," the death eater replied. "And Filldeserp was always willing to spend time with Sheila. I think he truly liked her."

That monster had not only changed the memories of his daughter, but he had also sweetened his attitude and earned the incomparable love of a girl. Lucas could not hold back and cursed him out loud, disgusted by the nightmare developing in front of him.

She reacted instantly. She ran toward him, hugging the auror's knees in the impact and throwing him to the floor. He heard the exclamations of worry from his friends, but the only thing he could think of was seeing his daughter with a hand on his chest.

He felt something warm there and soon discovered it was Sheila's contact burning him. He tried to push her aside, and Sheila took that opportunity to run to the door and escape the room.

Still hurt by the fall and the burns, Lucas slowly stood up and with the other two Spanish and Dumbledore, ran behind the girl. Alice remained in the room, laughing as hard and loud as she could.

Sheila ran down the stairs, avoiding all the members of the Order who accidentally crossed her way, screaming "lord, lord!" and asking for help. The aurors did not dare stun her with a spell for fear of hurting her or of awakening her element.

When she got to the lower floor, the girl stopped in the middle of the hall, disoriented and shaken from the run. Some members of the Order observed the scene, curious about the unknown child. The Spanish tried to get closer, but the famous bubble appeared.

Frustrated, they tried to calm Sheila with words, but she was not paying attention. She was anxiously looking for an exit.

"Cecilia, please…" Lucas begged.

"I'm Sheila! And you're not my dad!" The girl screamed.

That mistake from Lucas was the last drop for Sheila's self-control. After an extraordinary explosion of light that blinded everyone present for several minutes, the girl fell to the floor, unconscious.

The witnesses of such outburst were paralyzed, except for one member of the order. As soon as she could, Ginny Weasley ran to make sure of the wellbeing of the girl. In the meantime, Alice walked down the stairs until she was standing next to Lucas.

"She will not wake up for several days," she predicted. "When she wakes up, be ready for several episodes like these… it is only the beginning of her reaction to being apart from Filldeserp.

The Spanish did not responded, his eyes were glued to his daughter. His hand holding his wand was shaking. It reflected the same loss of control and hope.

"You should take her to the elementals of earth," Alice suggested in a casual tone. "They are the only ones who remotely know how to weaken the bond she has with Filldeserp… and will protect her from him."

Lucas turned to look at her, but the death eater had her eyes lost in a different horizon.

"I tried to contact them because of Annabelle," she continued with disgust. "But, since I'm a death eater, they were not moved by my request."

"Why are you helping me?" Lucas asked, fully aware of the true character of the woman.

"Sheila is more important than Annabelle. As long as Filldeserp is distracted by your daughter, he won't seek mine," Alice muttered.

They shared the silence. They were two parents playing all their cards for their children and their wellbeing. The side did not matter anymore. The war did not matter either. Everything was more personal and raw.

"Why don't you come with us? Sheila will appreciate your company," Lucas proposed.

Alice laughed, surprised by the offer.

"I have to find my daughter. I will not accomplish that by hiding behind those dreadful elementals," she answered somberly. "And remember, De Santos. This is only a partial solution to your problem. If you truly want to free your daughter, you cannot hide for much longer." The death eater took his previously shaking hand and raised it to give more emphasis to her words. "With this wand you must kill Filldeserp."

The death eater then walked away, leaving her words suspended and oscillating between a request and a premonition.

February 20th, 2005

Time: 5:45PM

He had been looking for Ginny in her usual corners without result and nobody could give him a good idea of her whereabouts as most had seen her over an hour before. Thus, frustrated, he walked down to the kitchen.

There she was, with her red hair. She was so focused beating on a bowl with her back toward him that she had not noticed his arrival. Neville gave himself those minutes of mystery and intimacy in the shadows, appreciating how she moved around the kitchen, with her typically passionate gestures. Even in the most common tasks, Ginny gave it her all.

But in that occasion he noticed something odd in her movements, a kind of anger, disappointment, or guilt. There was some desperation in the way she cut the fruit, as if wanting to get rid of everything that was consuming her from inside. Even as she melted the chocolate, in her static and apparently patient stance, there was a tremor.

When he reached her side and gently touched her shoulder to see her face, he noticed the tears that had been quietly falling. She tried to hide, surprised, but he did not allow her. It broke his heart to see her pain and her wished solitude. He wished he had been there from the beginning to hold her and cover her, but she had denied him the right. Whatever it was, she did not want to share it with him and that hurt him, although he would never say it to her.

Ginny dried her tears and fixed the kitchen utensils, looking for any excuse not to face him. Neville wondered how bitter the chocolate boiling would be.

"You will have to wait until after dinner to try it," she said after following his glance. He only pursed his lips and waited. "Do you think a lot of people will have dinner tonight at headquarters? I don't know if there will be enough food…"

Neville stopped her hand when she was about to distract herself with another culinary activity.

"There was no meeting today. Not many will have dinner here."

Ginny nodded with solemnity, but without looking at him in the eyes.

Filldeserp's dagger had been nothing compared to her indifference.

"What's going on, Ginny?"

She shook her head, but clenched her fists. Neville wished he could extend his arm and vanish the abyss separating her from him at that instant, but the coldness and the absence of a smile kept him on his spot. He sighed and turned in direction to the door.

"What? That's it?" She asked in her usual soprano tone. "You give up?"

Neville turned back instantly, astonished by her sudden outburst. He walked toward her again, but he did not dare touch her because of the intensity in her eyes.

"You give up?" She repeated, although her voice now had an anxious and low tone.

He kissed her and that was the key for their farce to fall apart. In his arms, she gave in to tears and he comforted her, silent at first, then with whispers.

"Ron and Luna are gone," Ginny announced in between sobs.

The news paralyzed him at the same time he felt something shrink in his chest. Perhaps it was her resistance. Or perhaps his illusions.

"He did not want to fight anymore…" she blabbered.

In a different context, Neville would have answered, with anger and disappointment, that no participant in that war truly wanted to fight. They might want to fight for their ideals, but they would never battle if peace was a possible means.

Instead, he nodded in understanding.

"He needs to find a new meaning for his life, Ginny," he said. "Let him go. Let him confront himself."

The red-hair hugged him and sobbed some more against his chest.

"I feel so angry," she confessed. "The lies never end… but the worst thing is that they hurt more deeply. Ron, my own brother… a traitor." The word came out of her mouth weak and hollow. "All this time we thought that Harry had betrayed us even before the attack at Hogwarts… but it had been Ron. Do you realize it? Hermione also abandoned us. It seems that little by little, we are losing each other, we are giving up and have nothing left. Who are we? Are the two of us real, or are we another lie?"

"Ginny…" he tried to hold her more tightly against him, but she pushed him aside, alive and on fire.

"Are we still fighting for something or have we lost our paths? Maybe we are also wandering without a direction," she continued. "Perhaps… maybe we were wrong this whole time, Neville? Maybe the light doesn't exist and we are only left with shadows? Have we sacrificed everything for the wrong cause?"

For a few minutes, Neville had no verbal answer, he only surrounded her with his arms and held her tightly until she almost complained. It was then his emotions burned him.

"I don't know about the cause, or about a path, or about Hermione, Ron, or Harry… but I do know something, Ginny." He took a long pause and looked at her in the eyes, wanting his next words to be engraved in her mind and make his gaze show everything he felt at that moment. "You and I are real. And I will fight every second for us to continue as such."

There was silence. She was starting to smile.

"I am sick of living in fear, Gin. I am sick of believing that… maybe there won't be a next time." It was his time to let it all out. "I hate saying goodbye to you and doing it with fear. I hate thinking we don't have time, that the war is rushing us, that we have to enjoy the now… but…" He smiled, sad and with a childish look. "No more. We are real… real enough to live our way and at our own pace. Real enough to feel everything they way it should be; without exaggeration, without being rushed by a threat. Voldemort, or the Ministry; Filldeserp, or the Order… who cares? You're real for me. You are my path."

He caressed her cheek and tangled his finger on the lock of hair resting on her forehead. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her mouth. He held her against him and there was warmth, there was hope, there was peace.

"I love you, Ginny. And I won't give up, I promise," Neville said, closing the door with a wave of his wand.

There, on the angle of her neck, between her red hair and the burning fire, there was a smell of chocolate and home.

Godric's Hollow

Cementery

February 28th, 2005

Time: 9:30PM

A pair of hands, so familiar, held her from the waist and guided her to their destination. She skillfully allowed her back to perfectly fit against his chest and with a certain pleasure she discovered their breathing to be perfectly synchronized in agitation. His face pressed on his neck after enjoying the smell of her hair gave her small kisses, making a path to her chin. The contact was so brief and soft that she could ignore the burn.

But those insidious hands moved up to her waist, visiting her stomach, the curve of her chest and her neck, and all of her was on fire, pain and sensuality.

She leaned her head to make eye contact and the intensity of those emeralds terrified her and electrified her simultaneously. That expression she had longed for was the approval she needed to turn around and kiss him, to be consumed by that suffering and prohibition, looking for more soft touches, trying to forget reality among those emotions so primitive, so personal and foreign.

Without a warning, the montage stopped. She found herself on her knees, gasping, in front of Filldeserp, who was watching her without moving or showing any expression. She tried to stand up, but her body shivered and she fell once more when another wave of pleasure clouded her senses.

"Do you not enjoy how your Lord can grant you everything you have always wished for?" He whispered, walking to her and leaning to mock the insufficient intimacy.

"Stop your illusions…" Alice muttered as she tried to get her body to stop reacting to the false impulses in her mind. Unsuccessful, she moaned and her body arched, unaware of her humiliation.

Filldeserp smirked and licked her forehead, cleaning the sweat. Alice watched him numbed, confusing that deceiving gift with the past they had shared, when they had innocently believed they were compatible and could overcome any challenge.

He began to guide her memories. They explored together the first months of their relationship, when both had been training their elements abroad. At the time, Alice had been a promising death eater, but a member of the lower ranks. Her first encounter with Filldeserp, the famous heir, had perhaps been the true starter of her accelerated ascension. She had been sure she could hold his attention forever and continue as his favorite, the greatest commander among all death eaters. Those first months awoke her ambitions and her conviction. She had been the ice that facilitated the separation between Filldeserp and his old identity, Harry Potter. Lord Voldemort had valued her influence on him and had considered her an ideal partner for his heir.

He kissed her with that masculine vitality that put her off balance. He surrounded her with his arms, and she enjoyed the acid taste of her ow blood after he bit her lip.

Despite the warnings from the elemental traditions which swore there had never been a successful partnership between fire and water, they sealed their commitment. She had vowed to give him her purity on their wedding night; however, weeks before they had succumbed to the temptation and dared to breach the limit.

She gasped when his burning fingers touched her chest, first slowly and calmly as he was aware of her weaknesses and desires. She screamed in ecstasy, giving herself completely.

Their elements clashed, destroying, extinguishing, and fighting for command. He had won and ever since, she suffered with every intimate touch while he experienced the serenity of his authority. They could never become one.

They canceled the wedding. Alice traveled across elemental communities inquiring for a solution, but it was in vain. When she returned to him and found him stoic to the impossibility, she searched in anger for a method that could attract once more his interest and obsession, incapable of accepting what magic was taking away from them. She had flirted with Draco Malfoy until she slept with him. She had done so carelessly, in several occasions, making sure Filldeserp was aware of it.

In a blink, he disappeared again, once more a product of her imagination.

Standing away from her, he dominated her and called her. She was incapable of resisting as she had always been, and she dragged herself to his feet, servant and lover.

Only Voldemort's protection had saved her from death when rumors of her infidelity spread throughout every death eater rank. Filldeserp had been out of himself when he discovered his authority diminished and she had felt insanely happy, because he had touched her and had looked at her.

She sobbed when he distanced himself again. She burned for him, for his darkness, for his ambition, for his perfection. Because no one else had ever existed for her. Because only he could make her feel human, fragile, feminine, between pain and pleasure, between insanity and death, between fiction and reality.

"Touch me," she begged, without pride, without reservations, lacking any sense.

But the punishment for her actions had been her pregnancy. Product of a pure-blood family, a pregnancy outside of marriage symbolized her greatest failure, the definite punishment. Her first thought had been an abortion, but Malfoy had been particularly insistent, and had even resorted to blackmailing her as he had threatened to inform Dumbledore of her. By then she had been tasked with remaining at Hogwarts as a professor. If she had not even done that, Voldemort would have killed her himself.

She agreed. Her distance with Filldeserp and her new placement in the school allowed her to hide many of the symptoms of her pregnancy. During the time it lasted, she rarely visited the Fortress and constantly used her element, capable of changing shapes, to hide her figure.

"As you wish," he answered, fierce, intolerant.

Nevertheless, his hands did not show passion or confidence. She did not feel pleasure, but intense pain wherever he touched. He was burning her, inside and out, without compassion.

But he was touching her. He treasured her. He held her.

Before giving birth to Annabelle she had planned to give custody to Narcissa Malfoy, who enjoyed certain independence from the Dark Lords, and completely distance herself from the girl. But after the birth, which happened on January 28th of 2004, she noticed the latent magic of the child and the possibility of her elemental condition.

That hope instantly muted her plans as she believed she had found another means to return to Filldeserp's good graces. She had been witness to the relationship between the Dark Lord and Sheila and the freedom Dymtrus enjoyed. She imagined a similar future for Annabelle and her, and even fantasized about the blood paternity ritual that would replace Draco with Filldeserp. She could finally give Filldeserp a daughter, not by the conventional means they had dreamed, but equally effective.

She cried in pain, but more for him than herself, for everything they could have accomplished and lived together. She sank her nails in his arms and was pleased to see an expression of pain. They had to share everything. He had to suffer with her.

When she made a ritual on the baby and found that her quality was earth... that was the moment she felt the most hatred in her life. She hated the brat, product of her defeat. He hated Malfoy for forcing her to renounce to her true plans. She hated her element and wished she had never developed it. But lastly and mostly, she hated Filldeserp and the obsession she felt for him.

"Do you still hate me, Alice?" He whispered calmly and jokingly. She did not hesitate in her answer, staring him attentively.

"Always," she confessed. "Like no one has ever hated you or ever will."

She knew then how strong and destructive love could be, and how empty, drunk, dilapidated, and lost she was because she could never let go of him. She would always long for him, she would always forgive him, and would always search for him.

He caressed her cheek, intentionally reducing some of the pain. His eyes seemed caring and understanding, perhaps also conscious of his guilt, and regretful.

She hated him more and less then.

"My Alice," he claimed, torturing her with that corrosive but sweet poison.

When Draco was captured by the Order, she wanted to save herself. She gave him up, not caring for any bond they could have developed because of Annabelle.

She was hopeful when Filldeserp got rid of the mudblood, when in his green eyes he saw the same hatred she felt when she had felt her broken heart. She thought it would join them again.

But he rejected her. Unreachable… once more in the arms of that trash.

It was unbearable to recognize her during the inauguration of the Congress, seeing her in the arms of Filldeserp and him, caring, attentive, possessive and introducing her under that mask to his allies, accepting her, forgiving her.

That night, before the night was over, she went to Hogwarts and spoke with Dumbledore about his dear mudblood. The Order got the proof they were looking for on Hermione Granger's loyalty, but did not act quickly enough to imprison her and judge her as a traitor.

"Always so clever, so devious," he said, playing with her blond hair. "You were never able to let me go."

"Never," she replied, adoring him, cursing him.

From there, the events were unchained like a spiral, out of her control. She trusted Dumbledore with Annabelle's protection, hoping, in part, to get rid of her, and also, to avoid her suffering because of her mother uncontainable wrath and terrible luck. She revealed the plans on the Dark Lord's massive attacks to the Order, perhaps still with the hope they could eliminate Granger. Afterwards, to their incompetence and her hatred, she did it because she could, because Filldeserp was watching her, because everything was absurd and she wanted revenge.

He closed his eyes, perhaps saddened, perhaps exasperated. She placed her hands on his face and wanted to memorize it. Every angle, every line, every color, every texture, because she already proudly held his smell, his voice, and his taste in every cell of her memory.

She sought to have it all, even if she would be left with nothing

She wanted to make Filldeserp suffer; to destroy him, as he was destroying her. That was why she gave De Santos the way to infiltrate the Fortress and rescue his daughter and kill the Lukyans. That was why she gave Longbottom and his friends directions to Filldeserp's quarters, because perhaps they would kill his wife and future child.

With that accumulated hatred, with all of those frustrations, she did not hesitate in committing the upmost betrayal; killing Filldeserp himself. She had reached the conclusion that only in death he could be hers, only hers.

He sighed, impatient as always, and removed his fingers from her face.

"I was never yours," he said, driving her insane. She did not reply, resigned and empty. "But you were always mine."

"Yours," she repeated, perhaps healing.

She failed again. Granger sacrificed himself for him. Thus, the mudblood had taken over Filldeserp's life, as she would now be his purpose, his eternal debt.

And Alice had nothing left.

De Santos contacted the earth elementals because of her advice. What she planned was to consolidate the only plan that she was able to execute; taking Sheila from him. The Spanish was already on his way, with his daughter and partners, to form an alliance Filldeserp would have a hard time breaking. A challenge for him.

"Sometimes I wished that I never met you," she admitted. "But more I wished I could sacrifice my own magic so you could accept me."

"I do not regret it," he said.

"I know," she laughed. "That was why I never gave up. I knew what it was to have you, willing, and for me."

Annabelle would perhaps become what her mother never was. She would perhaps end the object of her mother's eternal blindness and fulfill her reward. Or perhaps De Santos or Longbottom would.

She did not care anymore.

"Kill me," she begged. Or ordered. She did not know which. "Kill me and make me completely yours."

Her dark mark had hurt for almost a month. He called her, day, afternoon, and night. She wanted to play, making him wait, until she could not resist anymore.

She had left the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix fully aware that she would never return. She had answered his call and had apparated, guided by the coordinates of the magic in the Mark. She had recognized the place the moment she arrived and she smiled, delighted by the gesture.

It was the place where Alice Kolberg had accepted the Dark Mark. Where she had met Filldeserp. Where he had proposed. Where they had stubbornly become one.

Where she would die.

"Did you ever love me?" She asked, feeling insecure and childish before his deep and serious eyes.

He smiled and she cried.

"We would have been perfect," she hissed.

"Perhaps too perfect, my Alice," he pointed out, still with his soft smile.

Alice laughed to his comment. He was right. The world had not been ready for them.

"I promise it will hurt like every minute we did."

"And you will be with me until the end?"

He nodded, fearful and somber, proud and devilish.

"May the Darkness welcome you, Alice Kolberg," he said as goodbye.

Filldeserp smiled with bitterness, elevating his eyes to stare at the stars.

"Human beings give meaning to the universe," he explained to a hurting an inert Alice, who was just lying on the ground.

As part of their interaction, the scenery had also been an illusion; an illusion the death eater had welcomed as it was exactly what she had longed for. In the meantime, he had taken all of the information he had needed from her mind.

With his fire, he tortured her, bled her, and pulled her apart. Her screams pierced the cold and solitary night.

He had thought about dismembering until she was unrecognizable to give her as a surprise banquet to the Order. But when the moment arrived, he kissed her forehead, then her lips, and burned her until they were ashes.

Such ashes were collected and placed in a small wooden box he created and buried it in one of the available pits. He spread dirt on top of it with his wand, created a luxurious tombstone with her name, date of birth and burial, and chose an epitaph, suddenly feeling great fatigue.

That cemetery held his parents and now also Alice. Ironically, the three of them had been and would be symbols of his ascensions and falls.

At the graveyard, a famous phrase by a German muggle philosopher would forever represent that woman:

"Love and hatred are not blind, but are blinded by the fire they bear within themselves."