Samara paced the corridors at the hospital. Rarely had she been this agitated and desperate. With the second stage of their potions successfully completed, she had filled in the application for a vial of unicorn blood, and handed it to the hospital supply manager weeks ago. Then this morning, he had come to her office with some very bad news.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ravenhood, your application for unicorn blood was rejected by the Ministry. They say they see the merits of your case, but their stocks are depleted; they have none left."

"Depleted? How is that possible? It's never been a problem before. Unicorn blood is rarely used. How can they suddenly run out?"

"My brother-in-law, who works at the Department for Magical Maladies, reckons it has been stolen."

"Stolen?"

"Well, you see, when Scrimgour came in, there was a lot of staff turnover. My brother-in-law thinks someone took advantage of all the turmoil. But then of course, it could just be an excuse…."

"An excuse, what do you mean?"

"Samara, there is more than one person at the Ministry who would not be sad to see Dumbledore dead…"

Samara exhaled, and buried her face in her hands, her elbows resting on the desk. How was it possible that this country was governed by such a bunch of scumbags? There was nothing they could do. It was utterly frustrating.

"Is there anywhere else we could get some?"

"Not really, unless you're willing to buy it on the black market."

"There is a black market for unicorn blood?"

"There is a black market for everything. As you know, the life of anyone who kills a unicorn is cursed, but there are people who will do anything for money. And it is quite likely that the blood stolen from the Ministry will be sold underhandedly."

"And how do you access this black market?"

"I have no idea. We would never turn to such sources for the hospital. However, I have heard rumours that Slime & Slouch in Knockturn Alley sells absolutely anything, even illegal and restricted substances…"

Samara knew she had no choice. With only a week to go until the full moon, she had no time to waste either. They had spent months working on this. If she failed to obtain the unicorn blood she had promised, she would never be able to look Snape in the eye again. And Dumbledore's days would be numbered. He was doing quite well on the potions so far, but Samara had no illusions that these would control the curse in his hand for more than a few more months.

Unable to concentrate on her work in any case, she decided to take the afternoon off, and go shopping. It was a grey and gloomy February day, and, compared to the usual hustle and bustle, Diagon Alley was fairly quiet.

Her first stop was Gringott's, where she took five hundred galleons from her vault. Illegal unicorn blood would not come cheap. She felt a little uneasy, carrying around so much gold, even more so walking down Knockturn Alley.

If Diagon Alley had been quiet, Knockturn Alley was positively deserted, and Samara was unsure whether to take this as a good thing or a bad thing. Even the mist seemed thicker and heavier here, giving the street the appearance of a ghost town. She walked down past the gilded entrance of Borgin & Burkes, past houses with boarded up windows, and shops sporting "No Mudbloods Served Here" signs for what seemed like a long way. Finally, the rusty sign of Slime & Slouch materialized out of the fog.

The shop window displayed hundreds of glass jars filled with slimy liquids, unidentifiable parts of animals, or poisonous plants. The centrepiece of the display, a giant squid suspended in a huge spherical glass bowl, looked at her with empty eyes.

Samara entered hastily, and found herself in a tiny shop, surrounded by shelves full of more stomach-turning substances, but not a soul in sight. Samara rang the bell on the counter to make her presence known, and after a few moments she could hear shuffling steps approaching from the back room. Then a small hunchbacked man appeared behind the counter. His greasy grey hair was tied back in a pony tail, and his yellow-green eyes reminded her of a toad.

"Good afternoon, fair lady, how may I be of service?" he asked with a sly smile, revealing a disjointed row of teeth.

"I am looking to buy some unicorn blood. You wouldn't have any for sale, would you?"

"Unicorn blood – I see, I see… It is a restricted substance, you know."

"I know, but I am entitled to acquire it, here -" Samara pulled from her pocket a piece of parchment that identified her as a St. Mungo's Healer, and showed it to him. His smile widened, but became no more pleasant.

"Very well, very well. We have to check, you see." He pulled out a parchment from under the counter. "And you have to fill in an application."

Samara was relieved that proper procedures seemed to be followed. Despite the creepiness of the shopkeeper, there seemed to be nothing illegal about his way of doing business. She filled in her details, the name of the patient that the unicorn blood was intended for, and signed and dated the form.

"Very nice, very nice. Now, we sell one eighth of an ounce at five hundred and eighty-seven galleons, immediate payment required, no returns accepted."

"Is this legally sourced blood?"

"Oh yes, perfectly legal, sourced from abroad, and very good quality, too."

"I only have five hundred and thirty-two galleons on me. Can I come back in about an hour to collect?"

"I see, I see, not to worry my dear. We will make you a special price, new customer discount, he he, five-hundred and thirty-two galleons."

"Thank you, that's very kind."

Samara counted the money out, and the toad-eyed man scurried to the back. After several long minutes, he returned with a tiny vial.

"Would you like it wrapped?"

"No thanks, I'll take it like this."

She slipped the vial into the inside pocket of her robe, and left, relieved to get away from the unpleasant shopkeeper.

Outside, it was almost dark now, and the dimly lit street looked even spookier than on her way there. Samara walked with hurried steps. She couldn't rid herself of the feeling that she was being followed, but whenever she looked back, the thickening fog would not reveal anything. There wasn't a soul in sight. The walk seemed endless, and she couldn't wait to get back to the friendly lights of Diagon Alley, which would now be bustling with people doing their after-work shopping.

Then, suddenly, she noticed a large cloaked man, standing in a doorway a few yards down the street, his face concealed in the shadow of his hood. Feeling uneasy, she changed to the other side of the street. As she reached the other sidewalk, another black hooded figure appeared from the grey swaths behind her, his menacing form approaching quickly.

Samara panicked; she could feel her heart beating up in her throat. There was nowhere to run. As she reached into her pocket for her wand, so did the hooded man behind her. Her attempt of a shield charm failed, and a moment later, her wand was thrust out of her hand. It hit the pavement, rolled along a few feet, and disappeared into a gutter. A split second later, she was hit by two stunning spells that threw her into darkness.

***

Severus Snape let out an inaudible sigh, as he stood outside the ornamental iron gate of Malfoy Manor. He had done this so many times before, yet each time the feeling of dread at the thought of being in the Dark Lord's presence was renewed. As always, he emptied his mind, filled his heart with cool dispassion, and straightened his face into a mask.

The gate sprang open to let him pass, and he walked down the gas-lit alley of weeping willows towards the house with calm, measured paces. The gravel crunched under his boots, and his breath condensed in the cold of the misty winter night. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, waiting to greet him.

"Lucius, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you were still in Azkaban."

"Ah, you see, I have been granted amnesty, in recognition of my services to British wizardkind, and been allowed to spend the remainder of my sentence at home." A self-contented smile played around his lips as he continued. "The Dark Lord will be absent today. He is travelling, and asked me to chair today's meeting."

Severus was relieved to hear that. It would be a harmless affair then, with only Lucius' conceited and officious palaver to listen to. He followed Malfoy into the entrance hall.

"I'm glad you're here a little early, Severus. I need your help on something. With the Dark Lord away, you are the only Legilimens in our circle."

"What do you need Legilimency for, Lucius?"

"Ah, Severus, we have made a big catch today, a very big one. Avery and Mulciber picked up a young woman in Knockturn Alley earlier this evening, and guess what? She is Albus Dumbledore's personal physician! I want you to interrogate her, find out what she is treating the old fool for."

Now the feeling of dread was back, and Severus felt almost nauseous. It couldn't be, could it? What the hell was Miss Ravenhood doing in Knockturn Alley, and how could the Death Eaters have found out that she was treating Dumbledore?

"Do you know her name?" It cost him some effort to sound indifferent.

Malfoy retrieved a small parchment roll from his pocket.

"Look, that's what she had on her. Samara Ravenhood, works at St. Mungo's. You know about the task that the Dark Lord has entrusted my family with, Severus?"

He nodded "Indeed I do."

"Well, I have a cunning plan; it is perfect. All we need to do, is put this woman under the Imperius curse. I'm sure you could think of a potion that would make Dumbledore's death appear entirely natural. No one would need to know that we were implicated."

"But why risk using this woman? The Imperius curse does not always work reliably on a strong mind. If you wanted to slip something into Albus' pumpkin juice, I'd be perfectly positioned to do it myself."

"Why, Severus, who would have thought you'd begrudge me this honour. The Dark Lord has asked me and Draco to do this job, and I won't let you take the credit for it."

"I'm not begrudging you anything, Lucius. I just don't want you to make a mistake. You know as well as I do that the Dark Lord will not tolerate another blunder. Fail, and the consequences for your family will be dreadful."

"I will not fail. There are ways of breaking even the strongest person, Severus. When I'm finished with Miss Ravenhood, she will do anything I request of her. All I'm asking of you is that you break into her mind, it will be quicker than torturing the information out of her."

Severus considered his options. If she saw him in his Death Eater attire, she would probably blurt out something that could risk his cover. He had to prevent that at all cost. On the other hand, he was anxious to see her, see if she was hurt. And he had to get her out of here somehow. In his mind, he ran through the possible ways of transportation.

Of course, a Portkey.

If he could somehow pass it to her unnoticed, then nobody would be able to guess that he had anything to do with her disappearance. The timing was crucial, towards the end of their meeting would be ideal, while she would be locked up on her own.

"Very well, I'll be pleased to help you, Lucius, but the responsibility lies entirely with you. Is she here?"

"Yes, in the drawing room."

A small silver bell on the wall announced that somebody was standing outside the gate.

"That will be the Carrows. Excuse me for a moment while I let them in."

While Malfoy was busy greeting the new arrivals, and sending them into the lounge, where the meeting would be held, Severus searched his pockets for a suitable object to turn into a Portkey. His hand touched Narcissa's ring – It was brilliant, the irony of it… 'This will spoil your fun, Lucius', he thought, 'courtesy of your wife'. It only took him a moment to perform the spell.

"Let's do it now, before the meeting," he suggested once Malfoy returned.

Malfoy led him into the drawing room, where Miss Ravenhood was tied to a chair. She seemed scared, but otherwise unharmed.

'Tacitus.'

Before she had a chance to recognize him under his hood, he had put a silencing spell on her, wordlessly performing the incantation in his mind. He walked up to her chair, and stood in front of her, looking down at her face.

It was so easy. She was looking right at him, revulsion and outrage flashing in her eyes, that she wanted to shout at him but could not. Her mind was wide open, and behind the unconcealed disgust and contempt for him, her memories of the last hours were there for him to read like a book. He got as far back as her conversation with her colleague, when she finally managed to break eye contact, but he had already seen all he needed to know.

"It will be far easier for you if you cooperate, Miss Ravenhood," he warned.

His long fingers reached into her robe, and into the pocket where he now knew she kept the unicorn blood. And as he took the small bottle from her, unnoticeable to anybody in the room, he put the ring, which was now a Portkey, in its place.

He held the little vial up to his eyes, and turning to Malfoy said, "I will keep this, and examine it, if you don't mind. We will talk later."

Malfoy nodded, and swishing his wand, made the ropes uncurl from Samara's legs and hands.

"I will take our guest to her quarters. Join the others, Severus. I won't be long."

His eyes glittered maliciously, and with his wand stabbed into Samara's side, he walked her out of the room.

Samara was seething. Snape was a traitor, a Death Eater. Myopina had been right, after all. All the time he had been pretending to want to save Dumbledore, when he had really been working for the other side.

She recalled how he had only taken an interest in working with her, once she had mentioned that she had access to unicorn blood, how he had always seemed so impatient, whenever she'd stressed that it could only be a last resort. He had been using her. Samara shuddered, wondering what he might do with it now. Apart from its healing power, unicorn blood had unthinkable dark applications; it wasn't only restricted because of its scarcity.

And now she had been instrumental in supplying the Death Eaters with it. Samara was angry with herself. She had made it so easy for him, romanticising about him like a silly teenager, and ignoring all the warning signs. But Snape had played his part well, if even Dumbledore was fooled by him. She couldn't blame him for her capture, however - he had known nothing of her plans. It had been the toad-eyed man, no doubt. What did they want with her?

The man they called Lucius dragged her down a dark, torch-lit staircase, which ended in front of a heavy door, enforced with iron bars. He opened it, and pushed her through into a dark, cavernous room. A torch on the wall illuminated the damp stone walls with its flickering light, barely revealing the only items of furniture, a small wooden table with two chairs, and a mattress in the corner.

"Now, Miss Ravenhood, since you are my guest, we should get to know each other a little, don't you think?" he said in an unpleasantly silky voice.

His long blond hair, tied in a ponytail at the back, and the heavily embroidered green velvet robe gave him a somewhat aristocratic look. His grey eyes, however, were like shards of ice, and there was nothing noble in them.

"Imperio!"

He made her turn, and walk to the table, sit on it, and recline. It was as if her body was a puppet, no longer obeying her command, but his. He stood before her, and his cold hand brushed against her leg, lifting up her robe. She knew what he was going to do. Nauseated and terrified of what was about to happen to her, she remembered what Snape had said, that it was possible to resist the Imperius curse.

'Focus', she thought.

She gathered all her rage, her revulsion, her willpower, and tried to break free. As Malfoy bent over her, undoing the fly of his trousers, she spat in his face.

Now he was livid.

"You dirty whore, I will teach you manners!"

His fist hit her hard in the face, so hard, she almost fainted. She was still recovering from the blow, when he grabbed her, and threw her onto the hard stone floor.

"Crucio!"

Samara's body was on fire. The pain was unbearable; it filled every fibre of her being, drowning out all thought, or reason, or hope. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Time was standing still. When it finally stopped, she was clinging to the floor, panting, feeling powerless and broken.

But Malfoy was not satisfied. He kicked at her crumpled form with merciless brutality, again and again. Samara could feel something snap in her ribcage, and tasted blood in her mouth.

Then he dragged her into the corner, throwing her onto the mattress. Again he pushed her robes up, and forced her legs apart, but this time, she did not have the strength to resist. There was no point; she was going to die.

Malfoy's face hovered above her, his mouth drawn into a cruel smile. She closed her eyes, and tried to take her mind far, far away, to Ravencroft, and Trixie, and her horses, who she would never see again.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Lucius, everybody is here. Are you coming, or not?" It was Snape's voice.

Malfoy did his trousers up, swearing under his breath.

"We are not finished!" he hissed at her, before rushing out of the door.

Samara could hear the door being bolted; then it was quiet. She lay motionless for a long while as every movement was agony. It wasn't over - it was just a brief deferment of the horror yet to come. She knew Malfoy would be back before long.

Samara wished for nothing more than to be in her mother's arms. Maybe that was what death would feel like. Warm blood trickled into her eye, and she had to move, in order to wipe it away. She reached into the pocket of her robes, looking for a handkerchief, but there was none. Instead, her hand touched a small, hard object.

What was it? It couldn't be the small bottle, as Snape had taken it from her, the little vial that had cost so much. She took the thing out to look at it in the dim flicker of the torch. It was a ring, a ring she had seen many times before. It was the ring her mother had always worn.

Samara was perplexed. How could her mother's ring just appear in her pocket? She put it on her finger, it fit her perfectly. Was it possible that her mother had enchanted it, to bring her daughter support and consolation in her hour of need? In any case, she felt a little stronger and composed now. They could abuse her body, but never her mind, not unless she let them.

Samara thought of her mother, and about what Snape had said about mother love. Snape… His betrayal hurt more than her injuries.

Suddenly, she was yanked out of the dungeon, literally, yanked through the air, far, far away.

A/N: There is a fanart for this chapter at http: //herbologist. deviantart. com/art/The-Dark-Side-143589021 (take out spaces)