Early rays of sun shot through the room's curtains, nearly blinding Silwen even though her eyes remained shut. Only a few more hours. Then she'd tie the not. Only a few more hours. That's all the time she'd got.

"It's nearly 8, Mistress," said Lucie, gently shaking Silwen awake.

Head turning the other way, she crept out of bed, tamed her hair into decency, took the key and walked down to the main floor, Lucie at her side.

"Thank you," she said to the innkeeper, dropping the key on the desk. And, leaving several knuts as a tip, she and Lucie left. Outside was a chilly day, sunny, but the atmosphere was as just as cold as the temperature. Few shops were open-most were boarded up-but the scarce witches and wizards present hurried up and down the alley, heads kept worriedly on the cobblestone street. Fear. A patrol of Magical Inspectors stomped through too, looking intimidating in their severe uniforms and expressionless faces.

Then, out of Leaky Cauldron strode a stumbling..."Spike," breathed Silwen. What was he doing here? "Perhaps I can get more answers for the Order of the Pheonix before I return to the Manor from him. All I need is something sharp," she thought aloud.

In the corner of her eye, she spied the Apothecary. If she could pretend to cut herself on something inside, buy a vial to save her blood in and slip it into a drink for Spike...Decisively she strode into the shop, greeting the timid keeper, a frizzy-haired, greying witch with sad, scared eyes and scarred hands.

"Good morning, Madam," said Silwen.

"Can I help you with anything?" The shopkeeper inquired, eyes furtively darting outside and back to Silwen.

"Er, yes please. I need a new potions knife and a set of vials."

"The ones I have are hanging on the shop's right wall, the vials are just underneath them," informed the woman, pointing her finger to where the tools were.

"Thank you."

Walking over to the where the witch was pointing, Silwen found what she was looking for. She pretended to inspect the knives, delicately holding them, then sliding her thumb over one of the edges. Instantly, the knife cut her thumb. Reaching for a vial, she let her thumb hang over its top as blood dripped in, causing Silwen's stomach to turn as liquid as the blood. Silwen was quite squeamish, despite dealing with horrid potions ingredients. Usually, she held her breath and dared to look at them with the barest necessity.

Soon the vial was full, and Silwen healed herself and cleaned the knife, using her wand. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she was buying a vial of blood, she Cunfunded the keeper, put five galleons on the desk and left, pocketing the little glass.

Spike was yelling outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, which was closed. "I just wanted Dru back and Buffy dead! But Angel ruined it! I'll kill you, Angelus!" Kicking and screaming, Spike looked like a grown five year old wanting ice cream that had melted on the ground.

"Spike! Wash your sorrows away with a drink?"

"Mistress," warned Lucie, tugging at Silwen's dress, "Mistress, be careful!"

Silwen nodded absently, locking her eyes with Spike's, whose had swiveled once he heard his name.

"YOU! What are you doing here? I though you had a death sentence!" he yelled, stalking over.

"I'm spending a vacation day in Diagon Alley. I return in a few hours. My offer still stands. Drink?"

He looked so drunk already, Silwen was half worried that he'd refuse. However, Spike staggered over to her and nodded.

"Then to the Leaky Culdron," said Silwen. Together they strode inside the pub. It too was deserted. Yet Tom, the barkeeper, smiled at Silwen.

"Mistress! I don't think this is a good idea," Whispered Lucie anxiously, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry, Lucie!" whispered Silwen in reply. "Go and see if you can buy me a second hand robe. Here," she continued, handing Lucie the bag. Lucie then gave her ten galleons for the drinks and left.

Shaking her head, Lucie went out of the pub, and down the street, glancing back at the pub every so often.

"What do you want, Mr. Spike?"

"I don't care," he snapped, apparently not even hearing the exchange between Silwen and her elf.

Silwen walked over to Tom.

"One butterbeer, please, and one... Doubly spiked fire whiskey too, if you don't mind."

"Vampires are dangerous drunk, Miss."

Handing Tom the vial, she murmured, "Spike it with this, please, and try to disguise its taste."

Tom nodded, taking the vial, and went to prepare the drinks. In moments he returned, drinks in hand.

"3 galleons and two knuts please."

Leaving the money on the counter, she walked over with the drinks to where Spike was sitting.

"Here, Mr. Spike."

He snatched the drink and immediately began downing the drink. Seconds later, it was empty. Looking at the vampire in shock, she waited for it to take affect. Spike looked as if he hadn't even tasted anything wrong with the drink. Perhaps he was too drunk to taste anything. Good.

It wasn't long before his eyes went blank and his hands slacked on the mug.

"What are you doing here?"

"Telling the Dark Lord that the army is in England. We are ready for battle."

"What battle?"

"The battle to finish everyone off."

"Who else is here?"

"My commander, Angelus."

"Is he a vampire?"

"Yes."

"What are you planning to do after conquer England?"

"Conquer the entire Americas and put President Snow in charge."

"Who is President Snow?"

"Someone who shares views similar to the Dark Lord, who wants to control America."

"Are people fighting you in America? Who? Where are your headquarters?"

"Yes. The Slayer, her side kicks, and a wizard, Rupert Giles. A couple kids in Michigan who call themselves the 'Starkids'. Someone who calls himself the "Doctor" and his companions, Rose Tyler and Captain Jack. A resistance group in North Carolina fighting Snow. And freaks in a place called "Camp Half-blood. Our headquarters are in Sunnydale, California."

"Where do you plan to attack first?"

"Wherever the Dark Lord orders."

"Who else apart from the Death Eaters is helping you?"

"Two 'masters'. And anyone who isn't on your side."

The effects of her blood were beginning to wear off; his eyes returned to alertness and his hands tightened once more around his mug. Before he regained full awareness, Silwen pushed her seat back and ran outside to the Owl Post, knocking feverishly. When the door opened, the wizard looked at the scared expression on Silwen's face and bolted the door shut.

"Two pieces of parchment, one quill, and the use of an owl please."

He gave her what she needed and showed her to a private writing desk.

Sitting down and taking deep breaths, Silwen wrote her letter to ex-professor Lupin. She relayed everything she had learned from her first chat with Spike, the chat she just barely had, and finished with informing them that Severus Snape was dead. She also told them what she could of Harry Potter and the others. That they were alive and well. She also told them about herself. That in a day, the Dark Lord would know that the Order knew, would know that she was the one who told the Order, that in a few hours, she'd promise her life to serving the Dark Lord until his death. That Snape died a prisoner to Lord Voldemort, and that his dying wish was for her to help Harry Potter in his mysteriously crucial mission. Then she signed her name. Ex-professor Lupin knew she couldn't lie; he was much too shrewd not to notice it, like many of the professors at Hogwarts.

Rubbing off a few tears, she sealed the envelope and gave it to the owl.

Once finished, an alarming idea struck Silwen. What if the letter was intercepted? She couldn't risk that.

"Are there other ways of sending a letter besides that of an owl?" Just then, Lucie's ears appeared at the windows. "She's with me."

The wizard nodded, unbolted the door and Lucie stepped in. Barely after, the door bolted shut again.

Eyes narrowing at the window, as if expecting a Death Eater or one of the patrolmen to barge in, he whispered, "Yes. I can take it directly to your address, either Apparating or using the Floo network. What is your address?"

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," said Silwen as noncommitally as she could.

"I swear, it will get there today and in total secrecy." Bravely, he whispered, "Down with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Silwen smiled a scared smile, paid him, took Lucie's hand and squeezed it for comfort.

"Thank you, sir. Good bye. Good luck."

"Good luck to you, Miss."

Dipping her head, she stepped outside of the Owl Post, breathing hard, long breaths to calm herself.

"Here are your robes, Miss. Everything went well?"

"Yes. Thank you. And you?"

Lucie nodded, handing over the package. Silwen stepped inside a public loo and changed into the soft, exceedingly warm, second hand, grey wizarding robes that Lucie had bought. Indeed, they fit perfectly. If Lucie ever died, Silwen didn't know how she'd be able to shop for clothes. Smiling a warm smile, she exited the loo, and looked for Lucie.

It was time to return. Lucie was nowhere in sight. A nauseous feeling churned in her stomach.

"Lucie!" she called.

Spying a note on the ground, she picked it up.

"Look up, love."

Spike.

She raised her head and saw Spike standing on a balcony, holding Lucie over it. Silwen smiled.

"Accio House Elf!"

Lucie flew out of Spike's hands, and into her own. Grinning, Silwen said, "Try a love spell or potion to win Dru back! Not flinging House Elves over balconies!"

"Lucie, it's time to go," Silwen whispered, ignoring Spike's angry threats, and the tears that started to rain from her eyes.

Crack.

A foreboding manor gate stood in front of her. Dark and thick against the icy blue sky.

"Lucie, go home. Stay home unless someone tries to harm you. When that happens, seek shelter with the Order. Don't come back here."

Large eyes reproachful and tense with anxiety, Lucie Disapparated, leaving Silwen stranded in front of the manor. She couldn't open it; she wasn't a Death Eater. So she waited for the gates to open, her fear beginning to consume her once more as she thought of what she was about to do.

She stepped back as she saw a figure approach. Black robes, shining shoes, and pale, sunlight hair cropped to his earlobes. Raising his arm, he muttered something and the gates opened in a loud, rusting creak.

"Missed you," said the figure holding his hand out in an escort position.

Smiling, she ran at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him, pushing him down with such force that the fell onto the ground and rolled a few feet.

"It is absolutely stunning to see you, Draco," she when they were walking towards the manor, arms around each other as if they were bonded at the waist. Thankfully, the path between the gate and manor was quite long and it felt like a paradisaical eternity walking with him, talking about what the other had done since they had last seen each other.

Draco never let go of her, never stopped looking at her, and trying the best he could to heal the deep pain in his beloved's eyes. With all his heart, he wanted to rescue her instead of escort her to her prison. But Silwen had promised and had no choice. So he did what he could, making her laugh, teasing her, pretending nothing was wrong, hiding his tears as she hid hers.

Silwen clutched Draco, knowing what he was doing, and having trouble finding words to express how much it meant to her. So she did what she could right before the manor's grand hall. She went on her tip toes, softly put her hands on his cheeks, drew his face down and kissed him with all the strength she had left.