A/N: Hey everyone :-) I have been so busy since the last update, plus my inspiration slowed to a trickle until there was none! This chapter has been such a challenge, has been edited and changed so many times, but I'm as satisfied as I'm ever going to be with it! The idea for this chapter was suggested by someone I work with and I liked it, so I have decided to go with it. I hope you enjoy it and I will try to complete the next couple of chapters asap, as they really start to move the story along! SA :-)

'This is what lies on other

side of the wall that separates

a line that when is crossed,

it's already too late

Beneath what you see

Is someone that you can't

control

You cannot understand

I am in command

Running in circles, my world

has gone mad

Wanting things that I know I

can never have

Always addicted to something

that will destroy.'

"Beneath what you see" - Sacrifice

Wednesday 6th September, 12 am

He was on fire...excruciating pain tearing through each nerve ending and every part of him burning. He heard an agonized scream in the distance and then realised it was coming from himself. His heart was pumping erratically inside his chest, causing him to panic and gasp for air, the effort of drawing in oxygen triggering another wave of agony to move through his body.

'Mum!'

The torment made him cry out for her, longing for the comfort of her touch. Through the pain he felt tears travel down his fevered skin.

'Mum...'

He cried out again, his voice fading away, barely audible. A hand gently touched his cheek and the fiery heat began to recede. The hand was a miracle, drawing away the intense pain from his body. He let out a sob of relief as his eyes began to flicker and open, and he saw the blurred outline of a person in his view.

'Is that...you, Mum?'

He blinked a few more times to clear his sight, hoping to see her plump, soft figure and warm, loving face looking at him. The disappointment was acute when he saw that it wasn't his mum's touch rescuing him from his torment.

'No, it is not your mother, George.'

He recognized the face before him, as breathtaking as he remembered the first time he'd seen it. But it had lost its transparency and had become flesh again. Her smile was warm and her eyes soft, but George drew no comfort from them. Though he could not see it, he could sense the truth of her, hiding beneath a mask of physical beauty.

'You will be alright now, George, you are safe.'

Morgan's words did not reassure him, the fever that had burned him now being replaced by a cold dread. He moved his body weakly, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs. Looking around him, George realized did not recognize the surroundings.

'Morgan...'

Morgan's green eyes sparkled and her smile deepened. Her hand stroked his hair, brushing against his cheek and then moving down to his chest. George could not stop the tremor rippling through him. He felt breathless, and despite his weakened state, felt his body respond to her touch. She barely stifled her amusement as she sensed his body reacting to her.

'Drink this, George. It will help you to recover.'

Morgan held out her free hand and George watched in horrified amazement as the flesh from her palm began to rise up and shape itself. The skin retreated downwards and a silver goblet was revealed. Morgan laughed at the look on George's face.

'One of my little tricks...so simple, but it never fails to impress!'

Morgan leaned closer to him, her scent almost causing him to cry out.

No, no, no.

George willed his body not to respond to Morgan's closeness as she lifted up his head and placed the goblet to his lips. The liquid was warm and soothing and he tasted honey, cloves and cinnamon among the other flavours and aromas he didn't recognize.

Morgan rested his head back on the pillow once the goblet was empty and George began to feel energized, the strength returning to him.

'Can you feel it reviving you? It is an old recipe of mine, and never fails.'

Her fingers traced his cheek again and George felt it begin to redden in embarrassment at her touch.

'Yes...thanks. I can feel it working.'

George's voice had returned to him and he cleared his throat awkwardly, taking in a breath to try to dampen down his arousal. The desire to let go, forget everything and surrender himself to her closeness was almost overwhelming.

It was the horrific recollection of Alvin Muggleton's death that saved him, pushing its way into his consciousness and pulling him away from temptation.

'Alvin's dead.'

George sucked in a painful breath of air and felt the hurt and sorrow lodge itself inside his stomach. Tears formed at the back of his eyes and Morgan's hand stopped stroking George's cheek when he spoke. Removing it from his face, she looked at him and sighed.

'Yes, I'm sorry to say.'

She lowered her eyes for a moment then looked at him again.

'Do you remember how it happened?'

George nodded, swallowing down the lump of sorrow that had rose up from his stomach and into his throat.

'Ghouls...they...ripped him...they attacked him.'

The vivid memory assaulted his senses and George felt the urge to vomit, but forced it back down.

Then he recalled the pain of fangs biting into his arm and he turned his head, his eyes searching for the wound.

'Yes, you were bitten, but do not worry, I removed the infection in time...you will not become one of them.'

George exhaled a breath in relief at Morgan's words. The thought of becoming one of those creatures was horrific.

'Thank you.'

She nodded her head and smiled, but despite his gratitude, George still felt unease and distrust towards Morgan...he hoped she could not sense it. She stood up. moving away from the bed and walking to the centre of the room.

'You wish to know everything else that happened, don't you?'

Morgan had turned back to him and her stare was piercing. George focused on clearing his mind of the thoughts he wanted to hide. He nodded his head in answer to Morgan's question.

'The attack did not go as I'd hoped. Riddle was more than able to match me.'

George saw that Morgan was not looking at him now and he saw a glimpse of her true self, before it slipped back beneath the surface.

'He destroyed my ravens and summoned his ghouls. We took several casualties, but I was able to destroy his creatures.'

Morgan was smiling to herself, recalling her destruction of Voldemort's minions. George felt his stomach lurch. There was no concern in Morgan's eyes for the "casualties" she mentioned.

'What about my brothers?'

His demands for an answer brought Morgan out of her reverie.

'Your brothers are safe and unharmed.'

Tears of relief stung the back of his eyes and he stifled back a sob. Bill and Charlie were all that remained of his family.

'But Ruby is dead, George...I...know you were close to her...'

He breathed heavily, feeling as if he'd been hit in the stomach.

'Dead?'

George couldn't believe it...she couldn't be dead. He'd become close to Ruby in the past few months. She was a few years older than him, but he didn't care about that and he'd really started to like her. She was on his wavelength, confident and quick-witted.

He looked up at Morgan again.

'How?' he said, his voice hollow.

'I took the life-force of Bellatrix Lestrange and became mortal again.' She paused, appearing puzzled and troubled.

My spirit left Ruby's body when my own was restored, but something happened...she had some kind of seizure...I...I tried to save her...tried to revive her...but...'

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. He watched her open it slightly and heard the low murmur of the voices, but his mind was still with Ruby and the anger and distrust he felt towards Morgan. I don't believe her...what did she do to you, Ruby?

'George!'

The voice that called his name pulled him away from his suspicions and the conflicting emotions of sadness and relief. Morgan had opened the door fully to allow Bill and Charlie Weasley inside the room. Their eyes lighted up at the sight of George awake and well again and they both charged at him, grabbing him in rough hugs.

'How are you feeling, George? We thought we'd lost you.'

Bill clasped his brothers shoulder, relief on his face. George forced a smile on his face and somehow found his jovial bravado.

'You don't get rid of me that easily, Bill...I've just used up one of my nine lives!'

Another person now stood in the doorway with Morgan, and George felt their eyes upon him. He raised himself up, gently pushing Bill away so he could see them. The weak smile on George's face faltered and then disappeared when he saw answers to his remaining questions contained within the eyes that met his own.

xox

Wednesday 6th September, 1.30 am

Despite her body feeling like it wanted to give up and sink to the floor, Rose had forced herself up the stairs. She'd stood in the corridor for some moments before making herself move again. The second door she'd opened was the bathroom and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. She'd taken deep breaths, listening to the throbbing pulse in her head and feeling the small fluttering movements in her womb. The darkness of the bathroom had been welcome, but she'd needed light and reaching out, her hand found a cord hanging from the ceiling, and pulling on it, the room had filled with a harsh light.

Her eyes had met their opposites in the mirror and saw flushed, blotched skin and reddened eyes. They travelled downwards and studied the slash in her arm that Voldemort had marked her with. Blood had dried over the wound, the rest of it having soaked into the fabric of her dress. In anger, she'd grabbed at the delicate material, tearing at it until it came away from her body and fell to the floor. Casting the spell in her mind, the remnants of fabric disintegrated and vanished.

Looking at herself once again in the mirror, she made the glass splinter and crack, her image becoming distorted and reflecting how she felt inside. Stepping into the bath, she'd turned the shower on and the warmth was soothing. But it disturbed her wounds and the water stung as it seeped beneath the skin.

Rose released the hold on her emotions, her body letting go too as she slid down against the enamel. Her knees came upwards and she wrapped her arms around them instinctively. Resting her forehead on her knees, the tears began to slip down her face. Her son's voice reached out, attempting to comfort her and she'd cried even more at hearing the concern for her in his voice.

When she could cry no more, she'd pushed herself up, turned off the water and stepped out of the bath. Her hands had puckered and she'd felt a sudden chill. Yanking the towel off the rail, she'd dried her skin roughly, her unhealed wounds beginning to bleed again.

Opening the other door in the bathroom, she saw that it lead into a bedroom. Stumbling across to the bed, she'd thrown back the covers and dropped down on the mattress. Pulling the covers around her tightly, she'd curled into the foetal position, closing her eyes and hoping the still, quiet atmosphere of the room would lull her into oblivion. But there was no stillness or silence in her head, no oblivion to be found. Her mind and body continued to be tormented by images and emotions.

I'm safe, I'm free of him.

Rose tried to summon the euphoria and relief that she'd anticipated at escaping Voldemort. She tried to conjure up the wonderful memories of herself and Sirius before this nightmare had begun. But the sight of Sirius recoiling from her touch and looking at her with anger and disgust was too fresh in her mind and those earlier memories could not win the battle. Despondent tears trickled down her face.

It's ruined.

More tears seeped out and she could not prevent him forcing his way into her head. The bastard that was the cause of it all...the bastard that was her husband.

He's ruined it...its all his fault.

Turning over angrily, she'd screamed into the pillow in anger, cursing the image of Voldemort in her head. He laughed at her as inwardly she raged and insulted him with every swear word she knew. His presence was so strong, that it almost felt as if he was in the room with her.

All your insults and foul words but you still want me, girl..and you always will.

She'd tried to block him out, force out all the memories of him...and the truth of his words. It was impossible to deny to herself any longer...following Morgans advice and fuelling the desire between Voldemort and herself. But it had gone too far, started to burn too deep...and she'd begun to enjoy it too much.

I've ruined it.

It was her fault too. If things between herself and Sirius were completely broken then she had to take some responsibility. The pillow she'd buried her face in was becoming saturated with her tears.

Snivelling like a child.

His voice slithered inside her head again, his face holding a look of amused contempt.

You're finally accepting the truth, girl...enough with the tears.

He would not leave her be and she hated his condescending expression. But she knew just how to remove that look from his face.

Rose began to drift off, her sorrow forgotten as a battle of words and wills commenced between them in her mind. The eventual fusion of their bodies, the pain and pleasure caused her to cry out in her sleep.

'Rose...'

The familiar voice roused her from her tortuous desires and Rose groaned, slowly opening her eyes and trying to focus.

'Lumos.'

A small glow of light filled the room and he came into view, standing over her. His eyes were no longer cold and hard but Rose turned away from him as the hurt ripped through her again.

'I'm so sorry,' he said gently. 'Please forgive me.'

His hand reached out to stroke her shoulder but she jerked herself away from his touch.

'Please, Rose...please don't push me away. I didn't mean the things I said.'

Rose kept her back to him, determined not to respond. But the sound of his voice seeped inside her, soothing the hurt just a little. She felt him sit on the edge of the bed. Her resolve melting away when he touched her again, stroking her back gently.

He changed position and lay down behind her, moving his body against her own and placing his arm around her waist. His hand found hers and she gripped his fingers tightly as they entwined with her own. She shivered at the feel of his breath against her neck.

'I've missed you.'

His mouth moved to her hair and he breathed her in before exhaling a warm breath. Rose shuddered in delight when he kissed the back of her neck. He removed his hand from hers, and withdrawing his arm from around her waist, exerted pressure on her arm.

'Look at me.'

Some part of her wanted to disobey, a trace of hurt and anger remaining...but she could not ignore the slight demand in his voice, and turning so they faced one another, her heart thumped as she looked at him. He stared back at her for some moments before reaching out to touch her cheek.

'Consaro.'

Rose felt the healing sensation trickle down from her face and make its way across her body and all the physical wounds Voldemort marked her with began to disappear. Her mind and body began to feel refreshed and rejuvenated.

'Thank you...but not everything is so easily fixed.'

He looked at her so lovingly that she could not hold in her tears any longer. His hand stroked her cheek again, brushing away the tears that fell down and the gentle action made her want to cry even more... this was the Sirius she knew and loved.

'I know...I treated you terribly before. There are no excuses for the things I said to you, and I don't expect you to forgive me.'

He stroked her hair as she placed her head against his shoulder and cried.

'I'm sorry,'

He whispered the words several times into her ear until her tears subsided. Rose moved her head to look at him.

'I forgive you...but...if you love me, then you accept my son...'

He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing her finger against his lips.

'Please let me finish. He is part of...no, he is my life now and he comes first, before anyone and everything else. He is not a monster or a creature...anyone who says so will regret it.'

He stared at her for some time and she searched his face and his eyes to find his answer. What he said next would decide the future of their relationship.

'Okay...' He rubbed his hand across his face before running it through his hair.

'I...I love you, Rose...I want to be with you and I won't let him ruin us...'

He stroked her cheek gently.

'I love you...and I will love your son.'

Rose grabbed a handful of his hair and kissed him, aching for the taste of him that she'd missed so much. He responded and the kiss deepened and intensified, Rose beginning to feel the sexual energy between them began to invigorate her even more. She drew it in greedily.

Without warning, the memory of the first boy she'd slept with came to mind. It was just after her sixteenth birthday, during the summer holidays, and before her life was shattered by the Prophecy.

Jamie Mackenzie had lived in the Scottish village where her dad had grown up. Every summer when they went to visit her grandparents, herself and Carrie would hang around with Jamie and the other children of the village. But on that last holiday she and Jamie had noticed one another in the way they never had before. They'd been inseparable, spending everyday together, roaming around the countryside on his motorbike.

The urge she'd felt to go beyond just kissing and touching one another's bodies had been stronger than ever before and the first awkward fumbling did not dampen the pleasure or exhilaration of that first taste. Jamie had said she took his breath away and was addictive. She had laughed at his words, feeling excited by her awakened sexuality, but now she realised how literal his words had been.

They'd both agreed they weren't a couple, but when she'd returned home, Jamie bombarded her with phone calls and letters, saying that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He became so intense that she'd asked him to stop contacting her.

'Where have you gone?'

He'd noticed her wandering attention and had moved suddenly until he was staring down at her, his arms at either side of her body and a quizzical expression on his face.

'How do you do it?'

'Do what?'

He let out a shuddering breath.

'Make me feel all these...emotions...make me feel that I cannot stay away from you...can never have enough of you.'

Her smile faded and she stopped breathing for a moment. How could she explain this to him? He looked at her searchingly and Rose's instinct took over as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down against her body. She kissed him again, deep and hard and the question was instantly forgotten.

Wanting to express herself, Rose eventually pulled away. His breath was hot and moist against her skin as she traced his cheek with her thumb and saw the lust for her in his eyes.

'Sirius...I love you so much...I've missed you so much.'

Their breathing deepened as they stared at one another, before his hands gripped her face tightly.

'Show me how much.'

Their mouths met again and as they wrestled upon the bed, Rose moved until she was on top of him, straddling herself across his body. He made to lift himself up but she pushed him back down, moving her hands against the fabric of his shirt, grabbing the material and pulling it forcefully to expose his body.

'You are impatient,' he drawled, a wicked smile creeping across his face.

Rose laughed and allowed him to sit up to remove the shirt and throw it to the floor. He clasped his hands around her body, resting his face against her breasts. She rested her head against his, one hand stroking his hair, the other his back. She savoured the feel of his hot breath against her skin and the moment of stillness.

The need to be sated ended the moment and they kissed again, Rose using her body to push him back against the bed. Taking his hands from around her, she entwined her fingers through his, pushing them down against the bed. Pulling her mouth away from his, she forced him to arch upwards to try to kiss her again. But she kept her mouth just out of his reach and smiled.

'Tease.'

She laughed and teased him further, lowering her face to his and pulling back again when he tried to make contact.

'You love it.'

He let out a deep laugh in response to her teasing. He could easily overpower her physically and have her beneath him, but he enjoyed allowing her to take control.

'Kiss me.'

He made the demand and saw the mock consideration on her face. She smiled playfully, joy and mischief dancing in her eyes.

'Ask me nicely.'

He grinned, running his tongue across his teeth.

'Please.'

Rose responded by lowering her mouth and planting soft kisses on his lips, her tongue flickering into his mouth. She released his hands and he clamped his arms around her body again tightly, kissing her more deeply. He moved himself over, laying himself on top of her again. Rose moved her hands down to his hips, pushing his trousers down over his buttocks.

He changed position again, moving her body with his and removing his trousers until he too was naked. Her breath was taken away when he manoeuvred her body so she was lay on her front, her right cheek pressed into the mattress.

'What are you doing?'

Rose let out a nervous laugh and tried to move on her back again, but he placed a hand on her back and pushed her down against the bed again, his mouth brushing against her ear.

'I just want to touch you...will you let me?'

His voice was gentle and she shivered at the feel of his breath against her ear.

'Yes.'

Lay against her side, his hand began to work its way down her back, over her buttocks and thighs and down to her calves and ankles.

'So beautiful.'

He pushed himself upwards, straddling himself across her thighs and began to stroke her back gently.

Oh god!

His mouth and tongue now moved across her back and the feel of his beard against her skin was delicious.

He removed his mouth from her back, shifting his body upwards again and she could feel the swollen hardness against her buttocks as he gripped her wrists gently.

'Lift up your hips,' he said hoarsely. 'I can't wait any longer.'

She did as he asked, adjusting her position to allow him to enter her. Rose cried out as he pushed himself deeply inside her with short, hard thrusts, gripping her wrists tightly as he quickened his pace.

'Oh god!'

They cried out together, and hearing his moan of release, Rose's heart stopped. His hands had released her wrists and he began to graze his nails against her back. She tried to move her body but felt paralysed. The familiar cold laugh caused her heart to stop.

'Yes, I am your god, whore, and this elegant back of yours still beckons me to caress it.'

'No...it can't...no...'

The shock made it almost impossible to form words and her stomach somersaulted as he leaned in against her body.

'Yes, my faithless whore, it is your husband, your Lord and master...are you not pleased?'

Rose felt the panic rise inside her now, trying to move her body with more effort this time, but it was useless. She became breathless with her exertions, and he let out a harsh laugh, sitting upright and stroking her back again.

'You can try all you want, but you are bound, and at my mercy, whore...exactly where you should be.'

Rose felt tears of frustration and despair trickle down her face. It was him! How could she not have sensed it? The realization dawned that it had never been Sirius who came for her.

'Did you really think you had escaped me?'

Everything began to spin and then she was on her back again, her body exposed and immobilized. He was straddled across her body, a triumphant look on his face, until his expression changed unexpectedly. Rose shuddered when his hand suddenly reached out to touch her face. She was taken aback by the gentleness of his fingers as he wiped away a tear from her cheek.

'What have you done to him?'

He flinched at her question, anger flaring in his eyes and replacing the uncharacteristic gentleness they'd held only seconds ago. The hand touching her face clenched and withdrew before the anger disappeared and his eyes became cold and emotionless once more.

'I was concerned that you would see through my ruse, but you allowed your desperation to be with him blind you to the truth that lay beneath the surface.'

He studied her now, observing the acute pain and sadness she was unable to hide. The light and joy in her eyes had vanished.

'Are you not impressed by the physical transformation I achieved? And what do you think to my acting talents?'

The amber eyes stared at him desolately. This was what he had wanted.

'It was most trying pretending to be him and I am relieved that the pretense is now over...it was most tiresome.'

More tears travelled down her face, but he ignored them this time.

'How galling to have to grovel and prostrate myself before you, begging you for forgiveness...'

She turned her face away but he forced it back, sneering at her.

'But to make you believe I was him I knew I would have to act as he would...weak, pathetic and spineless!'

He saw the anger rise in her eyes and laughed before continuing.

'It was easier than expected to mimic his hatred and anger for me and imagine his reaction to the knowledge of my child inside you. I think he and I would react almost identically to another man's child growing inside of the woman who belongs to us.'

The amusement left Voldemort's face, his eyes darkening as his hand touched her face again, his thumb tracing her lips.

'Not that you ever belonged to him.'

His eyes were not meeting hers now, focusing instead upon his hand as he stroked her mouth.

'You gave him false hope by whoring yourself to him, making him believe you were his when the reality is that you belong to me.'

Her breaths were shallow and she wanted to cry but she stifled the tears that wanted to flood out.

'I made several errors, but you were most helpful, your expressions and reactions to my behaviour guiding me well. I was able to see when I had taken things too far...you were so easy to read when you believed I was him, so free with your thoughts!'

Voldemort paused, laughing mockingly.

'Well, most of your thoughts! There were some that you kept hidden away very well, so fearful he would see them! You did not want him discovering how you seduced and lay with me so willingly, how much you want me.'

He stared at her before laughing again, placing his hand on her breast and stroking it. His thumb traced her nipple, making it swell and harden. Rose hated the truth of his words and her body for confirming it.

'Now I know what your love looks like, and how you were with him...what a changeling you are! Determined and lustful, but also submissive and gentle.'

His hand began to move down her body, trying to elicit a response or reaction from her. She was unusually silent and he was not gaining the satisfaction he craved. His fingers delved into the opening between her legs and she couldn't quite smother her moan of pleasure.

'How trusting you became...how your eyes softened when you looked at him.'

Rose looked away, trying to hide her arousal, but he gripped her chin with his other hand, forcing her face back to meet his eyes. He knew where her thoughts were and he didn't like it. This was not playing out how he wanted, he was feeling disappointed, not exultant as he'd anticipated.

'As faithless as you are to me, I'm pleased that you show loyalty to my son and are protective of him. You are at least deserving of the honour of being his mother, if nothing else.'

He listened to the heaviness of her breath, clutching more tightly when she tried to wrestle her chin from his hold.

'But you disappointed me. I felt your darkness and your rage when "Black" suggested terminating our child. You wanted to punish him for what he said, yet you didn't. The affliction of love you have for him stayed your hand.'

She looked at him blankly and silently, remaining unresponsive to his disdain and antagonism.

Determined to get a response, he removed his hand and placed it on her face. She felt the moistness from inside her on his fingers as he trailed them against her skin. Rose emitted a shivering breath and Voldemort tilted his head slightly, staring at her intently.

'Black...you know that he would never have admired your true nature as I do.'

His words caught Rose's attention. It was not the subtle compliment he gave but his use of the past tense. She wrenched her mouth away from his touch, hardly breathing.

'Where is Sirius? Where is he?!'

She yelled at him and his fury fired up at her demands. She let out a cry of pain as he grabbed her breast, squeezing her nipple with his fingernails.

'Dead!'

He screamed the word into her face in rage, letting go of her breast as the pain shot through his fingers and up his arm, reverberating through his body.

'The blood traitor's corpse lies rotting in the ground!'

With the pain still resonating inside him, it had taken a great deal to spit those words at her. He bared his teeth and suppressed a shudder of agony as he watched her.

'No!'

She screamed at him, her voice cracking with emotion.

His face suddenly disappeared from her view, his body evaporating into minute particles, swirling up into the air above her and drifting away. Shock began to overtake her, and her breathing became shallow.

Dead.

The word reverberated around her head.

Mummy, are you alright? I can feel father nearby.

He had been disturbed from his rest again by the intensity of her emotions.

He can't be dead...I would know!

Voldemort watched his wife in muted anger from the other side of the room, lost to him with despair and disbelief surrounding her. He mulled over what had just taken place...it had not played out as well as he'd anticipated.

There were no doubts that the physical transformation had been a resounding success. From the moment he had stepped into her room and killed Alecto Carrow in the process, he knew that she saw him as Black.

It was the mirroring of Black's personality that he'd found much more of a challenge, having to be affectionate, show gentleness and sorrow. Performing his interpretation of Black's anger and disgust at her pregnancy had been so much easier...how much he had savoured her tears.

He had forgotten himself, being more callous than Black likely would have been, but her desire to be with Black had made her less observant. His ruse had violently swayed her emotions between euphoria and heartbreak.

They had flowed from her, almost overwhelming him in their intensity, causing him to forget himself for a moment. Forget he was playing a part and exacting revenge...forget the urgent task that he must complete.

Her touch had been even sweeter, her lips seeming to take him deeper into the recesses of pleasure. Her manner was teasing and playful, without the artifice and manipulation she usually displayed. And her eyes had looked at him with...love.

He'd had to portray it in return...physically express it...say the words to her. He could not feel the emotion, but he had felt the intimacy and intensity of her love in her response to him. And he had felt...a physical ache deep inside him, a yearning for something that was out of his reach. For a moment he had pretended that he was the recipient of her emotions...and it pleased him.

Reality killed these thoughts and he pushed them back down inside of him. All this affection was for Black, not him, and he neither wanted nor needed it from her. But yet again he'd reacted to the primal emotion of jealousy, inflicting physical pain upon her, forgetting again that by doing so he would suffer the same himself.

Damn that vow! I should never have made it!

He grimaced at the humiliation of knowing he'd shown gentleness towards her, wiped away that tear from her cheek and tried to solicit an agreement from her that there was a connection between them. Voldemort looked over at her again and saw she had turned her face to the wall. He watched the slight movement of her head and felt her silent grief.

A fleeting thought forced its way into his mind.

Retract your lie and you will destroy the pain that you have placed in her eyes.

He continued to stand in silence for some time, wrestling inwardly with his conflicting thoughts.

No. She deserves no such reprieve...and I shall make my lie the truth soon enough.

Voldemort exhaled a determined breath at the thoughts of Black and what he would do to him. Staring at the box he had placed upon the drawers, he remonstrated with himself that he'd wasted too much precious time indulging his jealousy and the need to retaliate, to make her suffer.

This weakness had to be reigned in, for it was paramount now that he focused on what must be done. Despite his doubts, he could no longer ignore the overwhelming force that urged him on and assured him this was the only way forward.

Voldemort could not stop the thought that entered his mind.

When this is done, she will belong to me in a way that she never will to Black.

He reached out and gripped the box tightly, feeling the tension move up through his arms. Picking it up, he began to move back towards the bed.