Author's Note: Hullo everyone! I welcome you with another chapter! I just want to say that in the end, I DO copy exactly, word for word, right out of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I think that for the end of this chapter, J.K. Rowling says it best. Don't hate me! I don't claim ownership for what isn't mine!
Oh! One of my reviewers asked how Spike was wandering around in broad daylight in the last chapter. My answer to that is Spike is wearing the gem of Amarra. This gem makes the wearer indestructible. Random fact, where Spike comes in is in Buffy Season 2, so Angelus is currently evil, and for another plot twist, I kept the Master (vampire) alive, who is serving under the command of President Snow.
Even though the blissful walk felt like an eternity, it still had to end when they arrived at the manor's Great Hall dining room doors.
"I'm supposed to leave you here, Sil," said Draco, his face uneasy.
"I-I...I think I'll see you soon," whispered Silwen, her emerald eyes bright with fear.
One last time, she hugged him desperately, then watched as he walked away from her, physically feeling his departure wrench at her heart. When he had turned a corner with a last look and a blow of kisses, Silwen raised her hand and knocked, her breath starting to stutter. As if enchanted, the doors opened just wide enough to let her squeeze through.
"Perfectly on time, little Snape," drawled the voice of Lord Voldemort. He sat at the long mahogany table's far end, yet his voice still caused the frightened girl to shudder.
"Come closer and whisper your promise!" he ordered, his eyes filled with cold humor.
As slowly as she dared, she crept up to him. His hands reached for hers, took the frozen fingers hostage and pulled her closer. Turning her head, Silwen closed her eyes to avoid the gloating glare of his red ones.
"Come whisper away your freedom," he hissed impatiently. The grip on her hands grew taught.
Bending towards the Dark Lord's nonexistant ears, she whispered, crying, "I promise to follow your every command, except for casting any or all of the three Unforgivable Curses, or make a lethal potion, or torture anyone."
A high, cold laugh swept through the room as Silwen stepped as far away as she could from the tyrant in front of her.
"Your exceptions irritate me," he said coldly, "It's too late to change them now. For your first command, never leave the manor unless I or a Death Eater escorts you. If Draco escorts you, have another Death Eater at your side."
In her hands, she clenched her wand, too scared to use it. Eyeing it, Voldemort smirked.
"Use your wand only when I tell you to. Now stop crying!" he hissed, switching the hold of both her hands into one of his hands, and wiping her tears away as she chocked, abruptly stopping. "Look at me."
Silwen opened her eyes, and looked at the Dark Lord like a mouse would look at a cobra.
"I have something to take care of. I will return shortly. When I am gone, you are to do whatever Bellatrix says. But before you go, I must know. What did you do when you left that would anger me?"
"I-I helped H-Harry Potter get something."
Anger entered Voldemort's eyes as he demanded softly, "What did you help him get? Where is Potter now?"
Voldemort cupped her chin in his hands, forcing her to keep her face turned towards him, his fingers lightly tapping her skin.
However, Silwen smiled rebelliously. "I don't know what I helped him get. All I did was lead him to a pond. I don't know where he is either. A wood somewhere. England, I thin-"
A few drops of blood slid down her cheek from where Voldemort's fingers grazed her cheek. Collapsing, Silwen clung to the ground, pleading with it to protect her.
"Your uncle knew what he was doing when he wrote that note," he murmured, crouching down, leaning over her. Brushing her hair aside, one of Voldemort's fingers swiped off the blood.
"Leave me alone," she whispered, petrified.
She only received a laugh. And then relief. He stood up and walked out of the room.
"Bellatrix!" she heard him call.
Lying there, she began to cry again until she hear the obnoxious click of Bellatrix' black leather, high heeled boots. Quickly, she rose to her feet.
"Get in the kitchen. You're our new cook," cooed Bellatrix.
Gratefully, Silwen went into the kitchen and looked around. It was a shock to see the cleanliness. Everything was in order, not even a mite of dust was seen in the light.
"You are to keep the kitchen spotless when you aren't cooking. You may not use your wand to cook," Bellatrix smirked, jabbing Silwen forward with her own wand. Startled at the prod, Silwen scampered off to Bellatrix' right, a few feet ahead.
"What do you want me to make?"
"Start with breakfast, little one," she said, once more cooing.
"Yes, Madam Lestrange," whispered Silwen, turning to the instruments.
When she turned back, Bellatrix had left, cackling to herself. Thank Merlin Lucie had taught her to cook. Deftly, Silwen looked around for a food storage. Finding one in the corner, Silwen began to assemble what she needed for omelets and started cooking. Cooking for what she supposed twenty people took over two hours, but Silwen finished it and put the plates on the Dining Room's table, freshly squeezed orange juice and ground coffee to top it off. So this is what it felt like to work like a House Elf.
Tiredly, Silwen sat on a stool, resting. However, for only a few minutes was she granted reprieve.
"Start making lunch. And after that, don't begin dinner. Don't even think about taking a rest in between until everything is cooked," snapped Bellatrix.
And the cycle began, with each cut, each kitchen utensil washing, drained Silwen's energy. Alone. Draco must be forbidden to come and visit, she thought miserably. If only Uncle was here. He wouldn't care. He'd find a way to contact me. I miss him. I need him. Uncontrollably, Silwen's eyes stormed over, tears raining down. Protecting the food from her tears, she turned away and calmed down enough, barely keeping her tears in.
...
Dinner done, Silwen simply lay on the floor, asleep. She didn't wake when compassionate arms picked her up and put her on her bed. She didn't wake, either, when soft lips kissed her forehead and whispered, "One day down."
The next day began much the same. Breakfast (French toast, sausages, tomatoes, and scrambled eggs), wash-up, and then repeating the process for lunch.
And then...Disaster.
A sudden silence descended on Malfoy Manor that made Silwen shrink in fear. The manor was never this quiet. BAM! The kitchen door swung open, Narcissa standing in the doorway. "We'd like to ask you to identify someone in our parlor. Please, follow me."
Narcissa stalked to the parlor yanked the door open, and pushed Silwen inside.
There they were. Weasley, Granger, and someone whose face was swollen. Don't think his name, don't think his name, DON'T...Narcissa and Lucius stood there, tense and erect, staring at Draco.
"Well boy?" rasped the werewolf.
Lurching, Silwen caught the table and steadied herself, staring at Draco, pleading with him not to give Potter away.
"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
Draco looked at Silwen, whose expression grew more urgent. "Don't tell them!" said her eyes, speaking for her mouth.
"I can't-I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.
"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"
No, no, no! This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Potter was the only one who knew enough to kill Voldemort since Dumbledore was dead. Potter couldn't be turned in.
Silwen had never seen Lucius so excited.
"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.
The voices droned in and out, but Silwen wasn't listening any more. This couldn't be happening. Her breath came in and out quicker and quicker with each intake. Draco looked over at her, saw her chest lungs move too quickly and strode over, holding her hands in his.