CHAPTER 8

My body aching, my head throbbing, my throat raw from screaming, I crack my eyes open slowly and carefully but cannot see where I am. I could be anywhere. I begin trembling again, and that's when I realize that my head is in someone's lap, someone who is currently running their hands through my hair. My heart races, and I attempt to scurry away from this person, only for a fire to ignite inside of me. I scream out in pain, assuming that this is some after-effect of the Dark Lord's magic, yet I do not stop trying to escape until I reach the edge of a bed and topple onto the floor, falling free of the sheets that were covering me. The stone floor is hard, cold, and unforgiving. I whimper and fold myself over, a new agony making its way through me as I vomit onto the floor.

"Aurelia!"

"Charlotte!"

I have no idea what to do at this point, because any movement only causes more pain, which needs to be avoided. So I just lie there, trying to breathe as fire courses through my veins. At least I know now who is in the room: it's Bellatrix and Narcissa. Two pairs of hands grab me by the arms and pull me to my feet, and I cry out, unable to stand upright because of the pain, and collapse. A wave of magic lifts me onto the bed despite my pathetic whimpering. Something warm runs down my legs, and despite the fear gripping my heart, I wipe it and draw back blood—and a lot of it. I glance down to see crimson stains on the sheets. What the hell did he do to me?

"Aurelia," Bellatrix says. She brushes my hair off my face. She must have been the one who was playing with my hair.

"Where am I?" I ask quietly, unable to pull my eyes from my blood-stained hand.

"You're in my room," my mother says.

"And what am I doing here?" Speaking, using those muscles in my abdomen, hurts almost unbearably, filling my eyes with tears, but I need answers and must continue asking these questions.

Narcissa touches my arm. "The Dark Lord sent us to retrieve you. You were hysterical. We had to put you under a bewitched sleep to calm you and move you here."

My breathing quickens, the pain increasing with each breath. "What time is it?"

"Nearly two in the morning," Narcissa says softly. "You've been out for almost three hours."

Two? Is that too late to go to McGonagall? She said I could come whenever . . . but two in the morning?

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix asks.

I glare at her. "You're asking me that? Seriously?"

"Aurelia—"

"I have to go now." I don't wait for them to reply before attempting to Apparate. A wave of fire spreads from my core and draws a loud cry from my lips, and I collapse back and give up, pressing my hands against my stomach in a futile attempt to stifle the pain. "What's wrong with me?" I weep.

Narcissa presents a glass of what looks like water. "You need to drink this," she says. "You're injured."

"Obviously I'm injured!" I shout, an action I immediately regret as a new wave of agony washes over me. It's too much for me to bear, and I turn my head to the side and vomit again, which only brings another round of pain. The vomit immediately Vanishes. "I want to know what he did to me," I whisper, trying not to agitate whatever keeps hurting me.

"We . . . we don't know, exactly," Narcissa says quietly. "It . . . it was Dark Magic, and it has left its mark on you." Hence the blood, I'm assuming.

I pull my knees to my chest and hide my face so they can't see it pinching in pain. Bellatrix pulls a blanket over my naked body and watches me sadly. "Aurelia dear, you need to drink that." She motions to the glass in Narcissa's hand. "It will take the pain away." I try to sit up but have to stop with a quiet whine. Bellatrix climbs onto the bed and slides behind me. She helps me sit up, ignoring my whimpering as she adjusts my body.

Unable to keep myself upright, I let myself fall against her. Narcissa tries to hand me the glass, but with each minute, I grow weaker and cannot hold my arms up long enough to take it from her. Bellatrix accepts it on my behalf and holds it in front of me. I nod at her, unable to bring myself to ask for her help, but she seems to understand what I mean. She lifts the glass to my lips so I can drink it. While doing so, she kisses the top of my head. "Aurelia," she keeps whispering to me, "my sweet Aurelia, my baby girl." When the glass is empty, Narcissa takes it from Bellatrix. "You need to rest."

I need to go see McGonagall. But the drink they gave me, which had not been water, is already making me sleepy. Bellatrix wraps her arms around me, and I find myself adjusting so I can rest my head in her lap. Again, her hand is in my hair, gently running her fingers through it. "You'll be fine," she says quietly.

I drift off.

When I wake up the next time, my head is still on my mother's lap, and her hand is still in my hair, now motionless. She is asleep.

Though I am not fully recovered, the pain is no longer torturous, which is definitely an upgrade from earlier. Instead, I'm simply sore all over. However, the soreness is not so intense in this moment to stop me from going to Hogwarts. I don't know why the idea of leaving Bellatrix like this saddens me, but it does. It won't stop me, of course, but it slows me. I carefully remove my mother's hand from my hair and slide away from her. My muscles are so sore and tired I could have easily just finished a marathon.

My clothes are folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and I begin putting them back on, staying slightly bent over because standing up straight is too painful. "Aurelia, are you going somewhere?" Bellatrix asks groggily.

"I have to leave."

"Snape won't even notice that you're still gone," she argues. "You can stay until a reasonable hour." Her voice is becoming stronger now.

"What time is it?" I ask.

She looks over at the wall, her eyes squinted. "Nearly five."

"I don't want to be here anymore."

Our conversation wakes Narcissa, who had been sleeping sitting up against the bed's headboard. "Charlotte, you need to stay and get your strength back." She can hardly keep her eyes open while speaking to me. She pats the bed beside her. "Come lie back down."

"No."

Bellatrix crawls off the bed and comes over to me, violently taking me into her arms—I hold back the whimper as her actions send fire through my core again. "Take care of yourself."

"Goodbye," I whisper.

I Apparate, holding my midsection and whining. I arrive in Hogsmeade and drop to my knees, breathing through the pain until it ebbs back down, and though part of me says to go see Zoe first, I ignore it and very gingerly force myself back to my feet and begin a very slow walk up to the castle, trying to move as gently as possible to prevent the fire from igniting in my core again.

It takes me a while to find the main entrance, but when I do, it's unlocked, and I can't help but wonder why. Without questioning it too much, I make my way to McGonagall's office as quickly as I can without causing too much discomfort.

Always having tried to respect this particular professor, I usually knock on her door, but this time, I open her office door and hobble to the middle of the room. There's no way for me to know where the entrance to her private quarters is. "Professor!" I cry, sobs already catching up to me as the memory of the Dark Lord seeps into my mind, my hand pressing into my belly, tears flowing freely. "Professor!" I hear a noise come from behind the far wall directly behind her desk. "Professor McGonagall!"

A door, one that had not been there moments before, opens in the wall, and the professor comes out in her dressing gown. "Rodgers?" she says, coming toward me and placing her hands on my shoulders too look into my face, searching my eyes. I instantly begin calming. "Come with me." With her arm around me, she leads me into her private chambers, then closes it off. "Sit down." It's a small living quarters—an open door leading to her bedroom, a closed one that I don't want to ask about, and a sitting room where we're currently standing. It's decorated with a small table for two people and a white sofa in front of a fire. She walks me to the sofa, and we sit down, relief spreading through me at no longer needing to stand up though I do remain hunched over. "We don't have to talk unless you want to."

I force myself to look her in the eye, but tears cloud my vision too fiercely for me to see anything. McGonagall reaches toward me, gathers my hair behind my head, and brings it forward to drape it over my shoulder. She proceeds to put her hands on my cheeks, wiping the tears that run down my face. "You will still be the same Charlotte Rodgers that you were before. It doesn't matter what's happened to you or what will happen to you; you will always be Charlotte Rodgers," she assures me.

I can't bring myself to talk about what happened just yet, so instead I coarsely whisper, "Except I'm Aurelia Lestrange."

"Though that might be your given name, you will always be Charlotte Rodgers."

I try to smile but can't really do it right now. A few minutes of silence later, I say, "He didn't . . . he didn't force himself . . . he didn't rape me."

Relief floods her features. "That's—"

"Not as good as it sounds," I cut her off. "He . . . did some kind of . . . Dark Magic. The Cruciatus Curse is not as painful as whatever he did." I look away from her.

"Charlotte—"

"It felt like a fire ignited inside of me," I interrupt her again. "It slowly consumed me. All of me. And once—once it died down, it—there was this intense . . . stabbing. It felt like a knife was ripping me open." I break down again, my body convulsing with sobs that just increase the flames within me. "There was s-so much b-blood! I-I've n-never been in that much pain be-before!"

McGonagall surprises me and wraps her arms around me. "It's all right, Charlotte," she says gently. "It's all right."

I let myself fall into her embrace, not caring that I should go back to Spinner's End. I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I find more comfort around her than I do around Bellatrix—that's nothing to be ashamed about, you'd feel this way around Bellatrix too if she hadn't Cruciated you and didn't believe that this horror is an honor.

The next time I open my eyes, I'm lying down on the sofa, and it takes me a long moment to realize where I am. Beside the sofa, in an armchair that was absolutely not there before, sits McGonagall, reading by the light of the fire.

"P-Professor?" I say quietly.

She closes the book and turns her full attention to me. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. Having not moved very much means I haven't had to deal with any sort of pain again, so there's no way to know how bad it might be. "What time is it?"

"Nearly noon."

"You . . . you let me sleep that long?"

"I saw no need in waking you."

A smile comes to my lips. Then a wave of nausea rushes through me. My head jerks to the door that I seriously hope leads to the bathroom, and I roll off the sofa and attempt to run in that direction, but the fire in my gut ceases all my movement and sends me falling to my knees on the floor. I Conjure a bucket and vomit into it, crying out for my mother and realizing moments too later she is not here. Nor do I want her to be here. She thinks this is a privilege.

But McGonagall comes to my aid. An invisible force pulls my hair back, and a cool cloth appears on the back of my neck. "Are you all right?" she asks quietly, crouching down beside me.

"Yeah," I croak, my throat burning terribly, my core burning again from the sudden movements, "I just haven't—" More bile comes up. "I haven't really eaten much in the past—the past few days. And the thought of the Dark Lord—" My empty stomach continues trying to empty itself.

"I'll get you something to eat then, shall I?"

"I don't know if I can eat," I whisper.

Then she's gone. I lean heavily against the bucket and close my eyes. I should have eaten—Snape warned me so many times. I know it hadn't felt possible at the time, but I should have forced more down my throat. This is humiliating. Not only did I interrupt McGonagall's routine by showing up in the middle of the night, but now I'm also needy. The thought makes me feel so guilty.

McGonagall helps me over to the small table. "Thanks," I say quietly, staring into the bowl of what appears to be some sort of hot soup. "There . . . there are some things . . . that I think you should know."

"Such as?"

"Snape . . . he's—the Dark Lord's close to taking over the Ministry, and Snape—he's going to be the new headmaster when that happens," I struggle to say.

"What?" Her face is turning red with fury. "Albus—he killed Albus and believes—he cannot be headmaster! Not after—"

"And two Death Eaters—Alecto and Amycus Carrow—will be given the position of Deputy Headmaster, as well as Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts posts," I continue. She needs to know this, needs to hear it from me, before word is spread. "And they enjoy punishment."

"Albus would never stand for this," she says quietly. Then she meets my eyes. "You're sure about this?"

I nod. "I was in the meeting when they were talking about it."

A few minutes pass. "Are you safe wherever they're keeping you?"

"I'm living with Snape again"—her lips almost disappear they go so thin—"and he—"

"Again?"

"I lived with him last summer," I confess. "I think Dumbledore knew." She narrows her eyes at me but does not question me, probably because of how pathetic I am right now. "But I'm safe—as safe as I can be at least—with him. The Dark Lord has ordered my safety. The Death Eaters will not hurt me."

"Like Bellatrix wouldn't hurt you? Was it not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who directed that attack?"

I bite my lip. "It was, but at the meeting, he specifically demanded my safety."

"And you trust that the Death Eaters will obey?"

"I didn't, but after what he's done to Avery by now . . . it would take a lot for someone to harm me again."

"Again?" She sounds exasperated and frustrated, but obviously not with me.

"Avery—he was Mrs. Stoico's brother, the son of her murderer—he wanted revenge for my killing his father. The Dark Lord and Bellatrix found me as he was attacking me. He was punished quite severely. I believe he's currently in Azkaban." Or at least I hope he is.

McGonagall shakes her head. "We need to find a way to get you away from them. You cannot trust any of them." I can trust Snape.

"I don't want to be with them either," I lie. It's actually quite enjoyable being at Spinner's End now that I'm no longer purposefully making Snape's life miserable. "If there was any other way, I would choose it."

"Will you be attending Hogwarts this coming year?"

"It's the will of the Dark Lord," I say. "I have to admit that I agree with him on this one thing. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't come back. I'd lose my mind."

"It'll be a difficult year," she says quietly.

I push the food away from me. How am I supposed to stay at Hogwarts if I'm pregnant? What's going to happen to me? I meet McGonagall's eyes. "Can I ask a favor of you, Professor?"

She nods, and while I hate having to ask her something like this, I've just realized how weak I am right now. Walking up to the castle with such little rest is now coming back to haunt me. "Can you help me get to Hogsmeade? I need to see Zoe—Zoe Accrington—but I can't make it down there right now."

"You can stay here until you're strong enough," she suggests.

I shake my head. "No, I need to see her. She needs to know that I'm alive."

McGonagall nods kindly, and once I've finished a small meal, she helps me to my feet, and I lean heavily against her as we make our way out of the castle and to the village of Hogsmeade. I direct McGonagall through the streets until we reach Zoe's building. We make short work of reaching her door, and McGonagall knocks calmly. Zoe cracks the door open pauses. "Professor?" Then she opens the door all the way. "Charlotte!" Disregarding the professor entirely, she throws her arms around me, apologizing quickly and releasing me at the sound of my agonized moan. "Merlin, it's good to know you're alive. Come in." McGonagall leads me into the flat. "You can bring her in here." Still supporting me, McGonagall follows Zoe into the bedroom area. Zoe pulls back the sheets and says, "She can rest here for a while."

"That's your side of the bed," I say quietly.

"It doesn't matter."

McGonagall looks between the two of us but says nothing as I crawl into the sheets and close my eyes.

"Thank you, Professor," I say softly.

"I'll take good care of her," Zoe tells McGonagall. "Thank you for bringing her here."

I drift back asleep.

The next time I awaken, Zoe is lying on the bed next to me, her hand gently resting on my stomach, and the moment I move, she says, "Are you okay?"

I glance at the clock. I've been here, asleep, for nearly three hours. "Just sore."

"Oh, I have something for that." She rolls out of the bed and disappears from the room, and by the time I've sat up, my back against the bed, she has returned with a vial. "Professor McGonagall gave me this for you. She said it'll help with the pain."

I take it eagerly and drink it. "How long was she here?"

"About half an hour."

I nod, smiling as the potion takes effect and soothes my pain. "It's nearly four," I say softly. "I should go back before they start hunting me down."

"Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately. Thanks for taking care of me." I reach over and take her hand. I can't imagine how I'd be handling this without her, what I'd do if I didn't have her in my life. "I think I might love you, Zoe."

She grins, then bends over and wraps her arms around me. "I love you, too." Still smiling, she gives me a swift kiss. "I'd love for you to stay, Charlotte, but I don't want you getting into trouble. I'll see you later, yeah? We can talk after you've healed, when you can get away from wherever you have to go."

I touch her cheek, then Disapparate.

As the last time I Apparated, a fire erupts in my core, and I gasp for breath, unable to adjust to my new surroundings before Snape's hands are on my shoulders. "Charlotte! Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"You were worried about me, Professor?" I laugh, but I silence immediately because that only makes everything hurt more. The potion was doing wonders moments ago, and I don't understand why it is failing now. "It—he—I—" I can't speak, so I just shake my head and close my eyes.

Snape gently wraps his arms around me for a brief moment. "You'll get through this."

I take a minute to calm down before I tell him what the Dark Lord did, and despite me explaining how painful it was, Snape's relief never really leaves his eyes. But I can't face him, so I leave him in the sitting room while I make my way to my room to be alone for a little bit longer.

A short while later, we're sitting in his kitchen, eating the food that the woman across the street made for herself and her husband. My body aches, but I don't currently want to die, so it's all better than it was before. Snape and I haven't really spoken since I hid away earlier.

Then he clears his throat. "The Dark Lord came to speak with me after your mother and your aunt took you away," he says.

"Why are you just now telling me this?" I say, the sudden anger producing a sharp pain in me once more.

"You ran off before I had a chance to tell you. But I'm telling you now." I nod. "He's rather furious that you've been taught Occlumency. You told him Professor Dumbledore taught you?"

I smile. "Yes, and it felt great to lie to him."

"I'm proud of you, Charlotte," he says. His words almost make me cry again. "Truthfully, I was worried about you trying to apply Occlumency against him."

I tap on the table. "But, um—there is—there is one thing . . . that I want to know if—if you can teach me."

He sets his plate aside. "And what might that be?"

I bite my quivering lip. "How to—um, how to—fight off the Imperius Curse."

His jaw clenches, his eyes darkening, the look on his face becoming murderous. "He used that against you?"

I nod, tears forming in my eyes. "Yeah, to . . . to make—" I shake my head.

"What did he use it for?" Snape asks quietly, his eyes full of barely concealed rage.

"To make me—I wasn't going to strip and get on the bed willingly," I say, my face growing warm. Snape hand briefly curls into a fist. "Could . . . could you teach me? You . . . you were the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, so if—if anyone can, I thought it'd be you."

His expression is as close to heartbroken as I've ever seen on him outside of his memories. "I—" He stops and grabs his left arm. "We're being summoned." With that, he Disapparates, and I follow his lead, only hoping I am supposed to be going to Malfoy Manor and not uselessly putting myself through this pain.

The fire in my gut explodes again with my Apparition, and I do my best to fight it down as, hunched over again, I take in the sight of the Death Eaters here at the manor. They rush about, cheering, and someone shouts, "The Ministry has fallen! Scrimgeour is dead!" which causes another round of joyful screams from the Death Eaters. None of them seem to notice me, and I'm not sure whether I'm even supposed to be here. Snape said nothing about me following him. He could have meant "we" as in "the Death Eaters."

The Death Eaters quiet down immediately when the Dark Lord raises his hand in a command. "I believe there is a wedding reception with those blood traitor Weasleys that needs to be disbanded," he says softly. Then he points a long finger at a man and adds, "Rowle, bring me Harry Potter."

The room is filled with loud popping sounds as the Death Eaters race to go destroy Bill Weasley's wedding.

The Weasleys. Tonks. Many other Order members are probably there.

I have to help them.

It doesn't matter that I was angry with them for not helping me get away from the Dark Lord—they aren't aware of what I'm truly facing, and so my anger is unfair. I know what is about to happen to them, and I cannot stand by and do nothing.

Bracing myself for the next wave of agony, I Apparate.