NOTES: I do apologize that this took so long. I have valid reasons that I will not bore you with. I noticed that a lot of people had questions about what happened to Narcissa/Snape/Molly/etc. and it’s good for all of you that this chapter is a bit different from the others. Up to now, we just saw the world through Draco’s eyes. But we’ll see a bit more of the others in this one. Also, if you guys have more questions I would be most happy to answer them. I wrote another list of answers to all my reviewers and told myself not to lose it this time, but I did anyway. So it turns out that if you ever have a question that you really want the answer to, the only surefire way of getting it answered is to email me. (My address is in my profile.) I’d be most happy to hear from you and promise to at least attempt a reply.
* * *
Draco slept fitfully that night. The uncomfortable bathroom floor didn’t help. He had nightmares. When he’d wake up, tell himself it was only a nightmare and go back to sleep only to have more nightmares. The worst was one where Voldemort had succeeded in capturing the Ministry of Magic. He stood on a heap of bodies that included Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and laughed that high, mirthless laugh. Draco couldn’t see much else other than the bodies and thick, black smoke that obscured his surroundings. He remembered that Cassie had been there too. She stared at the dead people will dull eyes. Then she climbed up the heap and held Voldemort’s hand. Draco woke up, sweating, when she called him “Daddy.”
He couldn’t take much more of this. It was eating him up inside. At any given moment he felt like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time, which would’ve been interesting if it hadn’t been so unpleasant. He had never been so worried about a human being in his life. That list included himself. It was a strange sensation, and he hated it.
Before falling into another nightmare, he wondered what she was doing at that moment.
* * *
Malfoy Manor was as dark during the day as it was at midnight. It made the mansion the ideal setting for evil doing. No one ever heard of men in dark clothing conspiring to take over the wizarding world on cheery, sunny islands. A great deal of evil had been planned in the empty room on the second floor. It was where the man formerly known as Tom Riddle did most of his plotting. At the moment, he was in the darkest corner of the dark house, staring at the little girl he had just kidnapped. Little things like kidnapping didn’t bother him. After all, he was evil.
In fact, Lord Voldemort was the most evil wizard of all time. An entire generation of wizards had grown up too frightened of him to even speak his name. Cities crumbled beneath his feet. He put fear in the hearts of grown men. He couldn’t do anything frightening or make anything crumble right now, however, because he had a headache. It was the largest headache known to man, for Lord Voldemort never did anything half-assed.
And it was all because of one little girl. Voldemort stared at her stonily. She was very stubborn. Impossible, was more like it.
“This is your dinner,” said the Death Eater that was supposed to feed her, “you have to eat it.” He was bending over the little girl with pleading eyes. Voldemort knew she would take no pity on him. She never showed pity.
Cassie folded her arms willfully across her chest and shook her head. Her golden hair bobbed as she moved. She had managed to sit in the only patch of sunlight in the entire place. “No. That’s icky.” She sneered at the strange green stuff he was trying to give her and turned her nose up.
“Then eat this,” he said, pointing at the other food on the plate.
“Can’t,” she said reasonably, “it’s touched the green stuff.”
“What is your power?” Voldemort asked suddenly. He couldn’t torture her, or threaten to kill her like he usually did to get information. He needed her to be on his side willingly. So, he had taken to asking her at odd intervals, hoping to catch her off guard.
Once again, Cassie turned her nose up and shook her shinny pigtails. She seemed to think it was a game. To Voldemort’s dismay, she couldn’t be easily beaten, even by the most powerful wizard of all time. It was infuriating.
“We could get Snape to brew a Veritaserum,” the Death Eater offered meekly. Voldemort glared at him.
“I have already tried that,” he said indignantly. Of course, he thought of everything before his henchmen did. “It didn’t work.” He turned back to Cassie, who was scratching her nose.
“Girl, --” he shouted, importantly.
“Cassandra,” she corrected, not catching his threatening tone.
“Why won’t you tell me?” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She flinched unconsciously at the action. She didn’t want him to know that she was afraid. Her Mummy had always taught her to be brave. But, it was hard. He was so scary with his gleaming red eyes and snakelike face. She wanted nothing more to run away, back to the safety of her hotel room.
Voldemort couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t listen to him. She had been designed to be his heir -- his successor. Yet, she wouldn’t cooperate with even the simplest task. He couldn’t even charm her with false promises, one of his specialties. He had offered her everything under the sun, from letting her go back to her parents to giving her lots of dolls. She only looked back at him with unconvinced eyes, like she could see right through him. Invariably, she said “no” to all of his offers.
“Why do you hate me?” he asked, trying to make himself sound like the poor, misunderstood schoolboy that everyone felt bad for back at Hogwarts. It was far more difficult to pull off now though, and he just ended up looking silly.
The girl muttered something unintelligible and avoided his probing eyes. “What’d she say?” queried the Death Eater from the other side of the room.
Cassie took a deep breath and looked up, trying to screw up her courage. After a long pause she finally responded, as if it were a big secret that she shouldn’t be telling him. “Daddy says that you know Maleficent.” She all but quaked at the name.
The Dark Lord frowned. Maleficent? Maleficent? The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. It certainly sounded like the name of an evil wizard. He had worked with many a dark wizard during his rise to power. They all blurred together. They all were nasty, ugly and had abnormal, obsessive compulsive tendencies. (One always stroked his beard, another couldn’t leave home without his toad, etc.) But he couldn’t remember what Maleficent had done. Voldemort had just used them all anyway. He didn’t want their advice, or their friendship. He just wanted to know what they knew and how to achieve the power they had.
His snakelike eyes narrowed as he thought. “Did he smell like feet?”
Cassie looked scandalized. “She had pointy hair.”
He vaguely recalled one with pointy hair. “She was an expert at brewing poisons.”
The little girl gasped. Poisons! Her mouth opened and closed furiously as she searched for the words. Now she was quaking, not from fear, but from anger. She made a few indistinct sputtering sounds before shouting, through heavy breaths, at the top of her lungs: “Spinning wheels...is...dangerous...weapons!”
The Death Eater turned to Voldemort for answers, but found none. The Dark Lord didn’t know what she was talking about either. He was looking infuriated and clutching his head. The girl was impossible! And it was possible that she was a bit mad. His head pounded in his hands. He would have to do a spell to get rid of it, but first he would have to get rid of the source. “Take her away!” he bellowed so that the Death Eater hurried to get the girl, and himself, out of the room. It wasn’t prudent to be near Voldemort longer than necessary when he was angry.
Cassie kicked and flailed her arms about as he struggled to remove her from the room. “How dare... It’s wrong!... Spinning wheels... dragons! DRAGONS!... poor Philip... thorns... WRONG!” she yelled as he pulled her out of the Dark Lord’s presence. Each phrase was punctuated by Cassie kicking or hitting the Death Eater, who would surely be bruised in the morning.
As her shouts faded down into the dark hallway, Voldemort sighed. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the spell. His heir was certainly mad.
* * *
“Oof!” Cassie grunted as the Death Eater flung her upon the bed. She didn’t know it, but it was the same bed she had been born on. She scrambled into a defensive sitting position to get a good look at the man. They glared at each other, breathing heavily. “I want to go home,” hoping in vain that he would care.
“You’ll stay here until the Dark Lord wants to speak with you again,” he replied harshly, still smarting from her attempts at escape.
With that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. She could hear him lock it magically on the other side. It was the same spell that held her mother prison for months. But Cassie couldn’t stay months. She looked out the tiny, barred window and quaked. It wasn’t how far up she was that frightened her. (It was too small to climb out of anyway.) The sun was setting. She could make out the final pink and purple streaks in the sky. It was almost nighttime. She glanced around the room in a panic. There was no light in her room, not even a little candle. And Cassie was deathly afraid of the dark.
“Hello?” she cried out. There was no reply. “Hello!?” she said again, more desperately. “Could someone-- er -- turn the light on?” she asked weakly. She could almost feel the darkness surrounding her, as though it were choking her.
With a loud squeak, she scrambled under the flimsy blankets on the bed. She wished she had the blankie that her Daddy had given her. It protected against monsters and there were a lot of monsters here, both real and imagined. It was quite unlucky for Cassie that she had an excellent imagination. Everything seemed to be a monster to her. The shadow that the headboard made could easily be mistaken for some sort of goblin. The tree outside the window appeared to have hands that were reaching for her throughout the night. Every small movement outside the door sounded like it was pounding in her ears, causing her to jump and pull the blankets closer around herself.
At about midnight, which everyone knew was the hour that evil things came out, one such noise could be heard echoing outside Cassie’s door. It was two loud thuds followed by the softer sound of something being dragged along. Then it repeated, over and over. Cassie immediately recognized it as a giant carrying a little girl off to be eaten. She burst into hysterical tears when she first heard it. But she tried to hold them in, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. If she were quiet enough, he’d never know she was there, and he’d just go away.
Cassie attempted to cover herself in blankets and pillows. She stayed in the dead center of the bed, huddled into a tiny lump with her knees drawn up to her chest as she sobbed into her trousers and rocked back in forth woefully. No amount of money could’ve made her move anymore. Everyone knew that monsters couldn’t come in the bed, but if they could reach you from the floor then you were sunk. Every time the wind would blow the tree outside around, she would flatten herself against the mattress, so she wouldn’t be easy to grab.
Needless to say, Cassie did not get any sleep that night. Every second that she didn’t spend praying that the monsters would leave her alone were spent wishing that she were home, with her Mummy and Daddy. She remembered what it had been like, earlier that day, when they had all been together. They had talked of her celebrating her birthday. Now it looked like she’d never be happy again. All she wanted was to leave and never come back. That man was scary and he kept insisting that he was her Daddy. But he was wrong.
Another strange sound came up from below, causing fresh panic bubble up inside of the five-year-old. Sometimes she could hear voices outside. But they were the voices of the men that served the bad man. They were just as bad as he was. They whispered in hushed tones, like they were talking to the nighttime wind. By the time morning came, she was in a pit of despair. Her tears had dried on her face and her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. She wished that someone, anyone, would come help her.
But who?
* * *
Arthur Weasley was perhaps the most reliable wizard in England. You could set your watch by him. Everyday he came to his office at 7 o’clock sharp, earlier than all the other ministers. He went home for lunch with Molly at exactly noon and wouldn’t spend more than an hour away from the office. He was always the last Ministry wizard to leave at night. Often times, passersby on the street could see the lone glow of his wand bouncing around as he read through papers in the darkness.
This particular morning began just as all the others had. The sun was only peeking over the horizon when Arthur arrived in the office. He sat down to work at his mahogany desk immediately. An hour later, his over-worked and bleary-eyed secretary stumbled into the office. Arthur was always jovial and exceedingly polite, which made it very hard for her to curse him over her first cup of coffee. They were the only souls present in the Ministry building.
He always had a lot of work to do. These days, with Voldemort back in power, the workload at the Ministry had increased ten fold, but particularly for the Head of the Department of Missing Witches and Wizards. Arthur had requested to be moved up to this position years ago. It was a relatively new office, only being established during Voldemort’s first reign, so there were a fair amount of kinks to be worked out of the system. All the organizing and planning only added to the hours of late night work he had to do. It certainly wasn’t as much fun as his old office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, but then again, nothing was much fun anymore. The long hours didn’t bother him. The Burrow was far too quiet now. So quiet that it hurt his ears. He’d much rather be doing something constructive with his time.
The only thing he didn’t like about his new job was the office. It was much bigger, better equipped and had a better view than his last. All that was well and good, but the location bothered him. He was right across the hall from the office of the Standing Officer, a position held by the man he loathed most in the world: Lucius Malfoy. Generally, besides the constant reminder that he worked with Malfoy, it wasn’t so bad. For all intents and purposes, Standing Officer was a figurehead position. Most, including Arthur, didn’t even know what he did. Lucius Malfoy hardly ever ventured to his office. When he did it usually preceded a vicious attack from the Death Eaters by a few days. Lucius always made a great deal of noise, shouting at how incompetent everyone was. Arthur knew this was so he’d have an alibi, but Cornelius Fudge would hear nothing of it.
The last time the two of them had attempted conversation the result was a fistfight, so Arthur rarely spoke to Malfoy. Arthur had been in the office for nearly five years now, and only once had Lucius done more than grunt at him. It was almost a year after Ginny’s disappearance. Lucius swaggered into his office, glaring at the furniture as though it had all personally offended him. “Weasley,” he acknowledged the other man’s presence with a forced, polite nod. Then, without another word, he slapped a piece of paper down on Arthur’s desk and stalked out of the room apparently unable to stand another minute in the office.
Arthur had been too surprised to say anything during the entire encounter. After the shock wore off, curiosity began to build. What could possibly be so important that Lucius would come to him. He snatched the paper from were Lucius had placed it. It was a Missing Persons report, written in sloping, feminine hand. At first, Arthur thought he had misread it but further reading confirmed it. Lucius’ son, his name was Draco, was missing. He wasn’t sure what to make of this; he certainly couldn’t feel badly for Malfoy. He was, after all, certain that Lucius had something to do with his own daughter’s disappearance. But he did feel a bit of kinship with Malfoy since Arthur knew what it was like to lose one’s child.
“Mr. Weasley?” Arthur’s secretary’s voice made him jump in his seat. “There’s a woman here to see you.”
He had asked her to call him “Arthur” on several occasions, but she wouldn’t have it. She was young, just out of Hogwarts, and she had a certain idea of how things should be run at the Ministry. She was not unlike his son, Percy, in this regard. Though she wasn’t as well versed in whom she should be sucking up to. She had once told him that “some guy” was here to see him when the Minister of Magic himself had stopped by. This was why her description of “a woman” told him nothing other than the person was vaguely female shaped.
“Uh,” stammered trying to sound official for the secretary’s benefit. “Send her in.” He tried to busy himself, making it look like he was deep into research on some important case. In truth, it wasn’t really a “case” since the Ministry had closed it years ago. It was, however, very important in his estimations. For personal reasons, he dragged it up every few days. He closed the folder as he heard the woman’s footsteps approaching, sad to watch Ginny’s smiling face disappear under the cover of the manila folder.
The woman appeared, shadowed in the doorframe. Arthur cocked his head to the side. Even with her face obscured but he could still tell she wasn’t anyone he was expecting. Still, there was something...familiar about her. He couldn’t quite place where he had seen her before but he knew that he had. He noticed that her hand was shaking as she closed the door behind her. She was jumpy as though she half expected someone else to arrive.
Her cloak was made of a heavy, inky blank material. It was probably quite expensive. Arthur was sure it must be quite warm underneath and it wasn’t that cold outside. It was April after all. He was sure that the reason she had chosen these particular robes was because no light penetrated the material, keeping her identity hidden from anyone who looked upon her. His suspicious were confirmed when she made motion to remove her hood only after the door was firmly shut.
“Hello,” she said in a rather controlled, planned sort of way.
“Hello,” he replied uncomfortably, as he sat in behind his desk. “Um, let me take your cloak. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the leather chair that sat facing his desk.
“No, thank you,” she remained standing and slowly lowered the hood of her robes. “I can’t be staying.”
Pale, white strands of hair fell out from underneath the black fabric. For a moment, Arthur was sure she was a veela. Only they could have hair so silvery. Her face was gazing at him with a gentle smile, as if she had waited for this for a very long time. It was that smile that struck him funny. It was a few seconds before he realized why: he had never seen her smile before. He could see it, clear as day, her face as she looked at his children at the Quidditch World Cup. It had been as though she had smelled something foul.
It was Narcissa Malfoy.
“N-Narcissa,” he stuttered. “Your husband’s office is across the hall.” The words popped out of his mouth. What could she possibly want to talk to him about? But as soon as they were spoken, he felt silly. It was obvious after how methodically she had been since her arrival that she had intended to visit him, not her husband. He couldn’t figure out why.
“Lucius is the last person I want to talk to right now, Arthur,” she said, without the hint of superiority he would’ve expected from her.
“Why?” he wondered aloud. He knew why rational people wouldn’t want to see Lucius Malfoy, he just had never counted her among those people. He imagined she must be half-mad to have married him.
“He doesn’t know I’m here. And I trust you won’t tell him.” Arthur snorted. Narcissa instantly saw what was funny. Arthur and her husband rarely, if ever, spoke.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Is this about Draco?” he asked abruptly. It must have been her who wrote that report in the sloping hand.
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“We haven’t been actively looking into the disappearance of your son, Mrs. Malfoy. But all accounts he left of his own accord and since he’s a legal adult he is free to make the choice of where he wishes to --” Arthur started to prattle off the official details of the Malfoy boy’s case in a matter-of-fact manner. She stopped him with a mysterious look.
Narcissa shook her head. She knew all that already. “Mr. Weasley,” she began, as she glanced at a photo of the entire Weasley family he had on his wall. It must have been taken some time ago because the girl, Ginny, still smiled back at her. “I know you’re a very dedicated family man. So you, of all people, must understand that I would do anything for my Draco.”
Confused, Arthur nodded. “Of course...”
She held up a hand to silence him. She spoke again with a slightly higher pitched voice. “He’s been gone for several years. I would rather like to see him again before I die. Certain measures must be taken to insure this. I’m sure you find it odd that I would come to you on this matter. But under the circumstances, I think you’re the only one who can help me. Besides,” she said, a bit heavier, “you deserve to know...”
Arthur frowned. “Go on.”
Narcissa paused, unsure as to how she could go on. She remembered all too well how she had reacted when she had first found out. And there was a very high possibility that he wouldn’t believe a word she said. There was no better thing to do than just say it. If he didn’t believe her, then she had done her best.
Screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath and said in a deathly quiet whisper, “Lucius was the one who kidnapped your daughter. He took her from Platform Nine and Three Quarters and imprisoned her in Malfoy Manor.”
“WHAT?!?” he exploded, leaping to his feet. Both horror and anger were mixed in every feature of his face. It was one thing to suspect that Lucius had something to do with Ginny’s kidnapping; it was another thing all together to hear a confession from his wife.
Again, Narcissa held up a hand to silence him. “She’s no longer there. She escaped some five years ago. I don’t know where she is now,” she assured the still seething man. “I didn’t know about it until after she was gone. Draco left that same day. Lucius informs me that they are together, your daughter and my son. They’re both alive and well.”
Arthur sank into his chair in a heap and bowed his head. She could see herself in the shiny bald spot on top of his head. Although he felt like a great weight had been lifted from him, his own body seemed to have gotten heavier. She’s alive... he thought. He knew he should never trust a Malfoy but he found it hard to believe that Narcissa was lying to him. And he so wanted it to be true. He wanted Ginny to come home to him in one piece.
“You want Ginny back and I want Draco back,” she whispered. “So you see, we’re in the same boat.”
Arthur fidgeted with his hands. “Is that all?” he asked, wiping a lone tear from his face. His skin burned, embarrassed that she was seeing him cry.
“No... There’s something else. Well, someone else.” She smiled serenely. “Our granddaughter.”
His face snapped up to meet hers. He wanted to say something but words failed him. Their granddaughter?!? He didn’t know what to think or what to say. There were three definite schools of thought. One was ecstatic and proud to be a grandfather. One was horrified that Ginny had gone through that alone and with a Malfoy. And still another one was sad, and didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t place why. He wished he could’ve been there for her. She was his only daughter. He had hoped that she would come back to him and everything would be as it was. He knew now that Ginny would never be the carefree girl she once was, because she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a mother.
Narcissa’s voice sounded very far away when she spoke again. “The Dark Lord wishes to capture the girl and use her against the Resistance. Ginny and Draco are trying to protect her.” Narcissa blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. She felt horrible that he had to find out like this. She too wished things could’ve been different. It should’ve been joyous news from someone he loved. But Malfoys didn’t show love. And they didn’t cry.
She reached behind her head and picked up her hood, to once again shield her face from onlookers, in one swift motion. “I must go now. Lucius will miss me.” She turned and left as abruptly as she had come. Arthur didn’t even have time to say goodbye. All he heard was the swish of her cloak and the unmistakable sniffle of someone who had just begun to sob.
Narcissa broke into a run as soon as she was out of the office. It was a lie, Lucius wouldn’t miss her. He was busy with other things. She just couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. To think, if she had been more attentive years earlier, she could’ve stopped this. Then both of them would be happy. She knew in the depths of her heart that she probably wouldn’t have done anything even if she had known that Ginny Weasley had been prisoner in Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was not the hero type. That was exactly why she had planned this meeting. Now her part was finished and the weight wouldn’t rest on her shoulders anymore. She wouldn’t be spending her days in bed anymore.
She left Mr. Weasley alone with his confused thoughts. Her tears spoke louder than any words she might have said. He still wasn’t sure if he trusted her. If it was true then Ginny was alive then she was also in great danger. That was only if it were true. He tried to get back to work, as though everything were normal. The ticking of the clock sounded loudly in his ears and the hidden picture of Ginny was boring holes through the manila folder up at him, begging him for help. He would do anything for her.
After awhile, he couldn’t take it anymore. He seized a quill and scrawled an untidy, probably incoherent letter. He may not be able to trust Narcissa but there was one person who he knew would be able to sort it all out. He hastily attached it to the Ministry owl that was perched in the corner of the room.
“Take this to Albus Dumbledore,” he instructed the owl, who hooted and disappeared from sight.
* * *
Two bright, gray eyes poked out from underneath a heap of blankets. They blinked several times as the hazy sunlight slipped into the dark room. Malfoy Manor was never completely illuminated by the sun. Only a small corner of the room, near the window showed that the star actually existed. It was as though someone had tried their hardest to keep the light out at all times, and only brave beams ventured into the mansion. The eyes seemed to disbelieve that morning had come. They had been waiting for so long and hardly expected to ever see the break of day again.
The little girl that hid under the blankets stayed put even after she knew that it really was day again. Normally the monsters went away during the day, but there were other things in this place. She could feel them moving about. It was best to stay hidden as long as possible. The small lump in the middle of the bed didn’t move at all, only listened to the sounds outside her door. She desperately wanted to get out. She knew she couldn’t stay here another night. Bad things were planned for her. Besides, she’d go mad if she had to stay in that room much longer.
Cassie had stopped crying in the middle of the night. She wanted to be brave like her Mummy. And she didn’t want to give the monsters a clue as to where to find her. So she sat silently in the middle of the bed, only her two eyes exposed to the rest of the world, listening to the people on the other side of her door. She wished she could hear her Mummy or Daddy’s voice. She had hoped she wake up and be in their arms again. They would take care of her. But she was still in this dreadful place, and those people wouldn’t help her.
A little while later, there was something of a ruckus outside. Cassie tensed fearfully. Several people were filing past her door. She could see them from where she was perched as she had been able to see her father when he had first knocked on her hotel room door. They were mean men and they all dressed the same: in long, black robes. Snippets of information forced their way into her head as each one passed.
That guy liked to kill cute, fuzzy animals... He was hungry... The next one used a lot of bad words. Mummy wouldn’t like him... He was guilty. Cassie didn’t know what of, but it was bad... He was greedy.... He was mean to his kids. Not like Cassie’s daddy... Several passed at once; they were all very stupid... That one was her Grandfather. For a moment, she feared he’d open the door to her room as he passed. She didn’t want that. He was scary... The next one didn’t bathe properly... Those two were insane. They had been somewhere bad. Cassie felt sorry for them... There were a few more stragglers at the end... They were afraid. They didn’t want to go wherever they were going. Cassie couldn’t blame them. They shouldn’t go. Their Mummies wouldn’t like it.
Cassie breathed a sigh of relief once they were all safely passed her door. She worried that one of them would’ve come and taken her back to the Bad Man. She didn’t want to go back there. She never wanted to see him again.
She gasped in surprise as still another man passed her door. She could hear his shoes tapping loudly against the stone floor as all the others faded into the distance. He was one of those other men in the black robes. But he was different somehow. He wasn’t scared or guilty or stupid. He trailed so far behind the others, dragging his feet. He glared angrily at the ones in front of him. Cassie got the impression that he didn’t like the others. He thought they were dunderheads, whatever those were.
Then it hit her, like a light finally shining into the room. It was so clear and so obvious. He would help her. He would take her back to her Mummy and Daddy. He wasn’t like the others.
Scared that she might miss him, Cassie leapt from the bed, without a thought to the lurking monsters. She began to bang frantically on the heavy door with both of her small fists. She continued to do so until she heard him hoarsely whisper some words she didn’t understand, and the door swung open. He looked just like one of them. He wore long, black robes that covered his head. But he wasn’t. She knew it. She had never been more positive of anything in her entire short life.
“Hi,” she smiled as she looked up at him with exceptionally large eyes. “My name is Cassandra Weasley-Malfoy and I would like to go home.” She said her name proudly, as if it were the best name a person could have. Then she put her hands behind her back and twisted back and forth, trying to look cute and innocent so he’d help her.
The man only stared at her for several moments, not trusting his eyes and ears to be functioning correctly. Had she just said Weasley-Malfoy? Of course, she was the heir, he realized. Then he sunk to his knee in a gentle, uncharacteristic manner, and said, “I’m Severus Snape. I know your Mum and Dad.”
Cassie grinned broadly. Then he would know where to take her! “Can I call you Sevvie?” she asked, as she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He glared at her. He didn’t like to pick up little girls, but he did it nonetheless.
* * *
* * *
Draco slept fitfully that night. The uncomfortable bathroom floor didn’t help. He had nightmares. When he’d wake up, tell himself it was only a nightmare and go back to sleep only to have more nightmares. The worst was one where Voldemort had succeeded in capturing the Ministry of Magic. He stood on a heap of bodies that included Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and laughed that high, mirthless laugh. Draco couldn’t see much else other than the bodies and thick, black smoke that obscured his surroundings. He remembered that Cassie had been there too. She stared at the dead people will dull eyes. Then she climbed up the heap and held Voldemort’s hand. Draco woke up, sweating, when she called him “Daddy.”
He couldn’t take much more of this. It was eating him up inside. At any given moment he felt like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time, which would’ve been interesting if it hadn’t been so unpleasant. He had never been so worried about a human being in his life. That list included himself. It was a strange sensation, and he hated it.
Before falling into another nightmare, he wondered what she was doing at that moment.
* * *
Malfoy Manor was as dark during the day as it was at midnight. It made the mansion the ideal setting for evil doing. No one ever heard of men in dark clothing conspiring to take over the wizarding world on cheery, sunny islands. A great deal of evil had been planned in the empty room on the second floor. It was where the man formerly known as Tom Riddle did most of his plotting. At the moment, he was in the darkest corner of the dark house, staring at the little girl he had just kidnapped. Little things like kidnapping didn’t bother him. After all, he was evil.
In fact, Lord Voldemort was the most evil wizard of all time. An entire generation of wizards had grown up too frightened of him to even speak his name. Cities crumbled beneath his feet. He put fear in the hearts of grown men. He couldn’t do anything frightening or make anything crumble right now, however, because he had a headache. It was the largest headache known to man, for Lord Voldemort never did anything half-assed.
And it was all because of one little girl. Voldemort stared at her stonily. She was very stubborn. Impossible, was more like it.
“This is your dinner,” said the Death Eater that was supposed to feed her, “you have to eat it.” He was bending over the little girl with pleading eyes. Voldemort knew she would take no pity on him. She never showed pity.
Cassie folded her arms willfully across her chest and shook her head. Her golden hair bobbed as she moved. She had managed to sit in the only patch of sunlight in the entire place. “No. That’s icky.” She sneered at the strange green stuff he was trying to give her and turned her nose up.
“Then eat this,” he said, pointing at the other food on the plate.
“Can’t,” she said reasonably, “it’s touched the green stuff.”
“What is your power?” Voldemort asked suddenly. He couldn’t torture her, or threaten to kill her like he usually did to get information. He needed her to be on his side willingly. So, he had taken to asking her at odd intervals, hoping to catch her off guard.
Once again, Cassie turned her nose up and shook her shinny pigtails. She seemed to think it was a game. To Voldemort’s dismay, she couldn’t be easily beaten, even by the most powerful wizard of all time. It was infuriating.
“We could get Snape to brew a Veritaserum,” the Death Eater offered meekly. Voldemort glared at him.
“I have already tried that,” he said indignantly. Of course, he thought of everything before his henchmen did. “It didn’t work.” He turned back to Cassie, who was scratching her nose.
“Girl, --” he shouted, importantly.
“Cassandra,” she corrected, not catching his threatening tone.
“Why won’t you tell me?” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She flinched unconsciously at the action. She didn’t want him to know that she was afraid. Her Mummy had always taught her to be brave. But, it was hard. He was so scary with his gleaming red eyes and snakelike face. She wanted nothing more to run away, back to the safety of her hotel room.
Voldemort couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t listen to him. She had been designed to be his heir -- his successor. Yet, she wouldn’t cooperate with even the simplest task. He couldn’t even charm her with false promises, one of his specialties. He had offered her everything under the sun, from letting her go back to her parents to giving her lots of dolls. She only looked back at him with unconvinced eyes, like she could see right through him. Invariably, she said “no” to all of his offers.
“Why do you hate me?” he asked, trying to make himself sound like the poor, misunderstood schoolboy that everyone felt bad for back at Hogwarts. It was far more difficult to pull off now though, and he just ended up looking silly.
The girl muttered something unintelligible and avoided his probing eyes. “What’d she say?” queried the Death Eater from the other side of the room.
Cassie took a deep breath and looked up, trying to screw up her courage. After a long pause she finally responded, as if it were a big secret that she shouldn’t be telling him. “Daddy says that you know Maleficent.” She all but quaked at the name.
The Dark Lord frowned. Maleficent? Maleficent? The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. It certainly sounded like the name of an evil wizard. He had worked with many a dark wizard during his rise to power. They all blurred together. They all were nasty, ugly and had abnormal, obsessive compulsive tendencies. (One always stroked his beard, another couldn’t leave home without his toad, etc.) But he couldn’t remember what Maleficent had done. Voldemort had just used them all anyway. He didn’t want their advice, or their friendship. He just wanted to know what they knew and how to achieve the power they had.
His snakelike eyes narrowed as he thought. “Did he smell like feet?”
Cassie looked scandalized. “She had pointy hair.”
He vaguely recalled one with pointy hair. “She was an expert at brewing poisons.”
The little girl gasped. Poisons! Her mouth opened and closed furiously as she searched for the words. Now she was quaking, not from fear, but from anger. She made a few indistinct sputtering sounds before shouting, through heavy breaths, at the top of her lungs: “Spinning wheels...is...dangerous...weapons!”
The Death Eater turned to Voldemort for answers, but found none. The Dark Lord didn’t know what she was talking about either. He was looking infuriated and clutching his head. The girl was impossible! And it was possible that she was a bit mad. His head pounded in his hands. He would have to do a spell to get rid of it, but first he would have to get rid of the source. “Take her away!” he bellowed so that the Death Eater hurried to get the girl, and himself, out of the room. It wasn’t prudent to be near Voldemort longer than necessary when he was angry.
Cassie kicked and flailed her arms about as he struggled to remove her from the room. “How dare... It’s wrong!... Spinning wheels... dragons! DRAGONS!... poor Philip... thorns... WRONG!” she yelled as he pulled her out of the Dark Lord’s presence. Each phrase was punctuated by Cassie kicking or hitting the Death Eater, who would surely be bruised in the morning.
As her shouts faded down into the dark hallway, Voldemort sighed. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the spell. His heir was certainly mad.
* * *
“Oof!” Cassie grunted as the Death Eater flung her upon the bed. She didn’t know it, but it was the same bed she had been born on. She scrambled into a defensive sitting position to get a good look at the man. They glared at each other, breathing heavily. “I want to go home,” hoping in vain that he would care.
“You’ll stay here until the Dark Lord wants to speak with you again,” he replied harshly, still smarting from her attempts at escape.
With that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. She could hear him lock it magically on the other side. It was the same spell that held her mother prison for months. But Cassie couldn’t stay months. She looked out the tiny, barred window and quaked. It wasn’t how far up she was that frightened her. (It was too small to climb out of anyway.) The sun was setting. She could make out the final pink and purple streaks in the sky. It was almost nighttime. She glanced around the room in a panic. There was no light in her room, not even a little candle. And Cassie was deathly afraid of the dark.
“Hello?” she cried out. There was no reply. “Hello!?” she said again, more desperately. “Could someone-- er -- turn the light on?” she asked weakly. She could almost feel the darkness surrounding her, as though it were choking her.
With a loud squeak, she scrambled under the flimsy blankets on the bed. She wished she had the blankie that her Daddy had given her. It protected against monsters and there were a lot of monsters here, both real and imagined. It was quite unlucky for Cassie that she had an excellent imagination. Everything seemed to be a monster to her. The shadow that the headboard made could easily be mistaken for some sort of goblin. The tree outside the window appeared to have hands that were reaching for her throughout the night. Every small movement outside the door sounded like it was pounding in her ears, causing her to jump and pull the blankets closer around herself.
At about midnight, which everyone knew was the hour that evil things came out, one such noise could be heard echoing outside Cassie’s door. It was two loud thuds followed by the softer sound of something being dragged along. Then it repeated, over and over. Cassie immediately recognized it as a giant carrying a little girl off to be eaten. She burst into hysterical tears when she first heard it. But she tried to hold them in, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. If she were quiet enough, he’d never know she was there, and he’d just go away.
Cassie attempted to cover herself in blankets and pillows. She stayed in the dead center of the bed, huddled into a tiny lump with her knees drawn up to her chest as she sobbed into her trousers and rocked back in forth woefully. No amount of money could’ve made her move anymore. Everyone knew that monsters couldn’t come in the bed, but if they could reach you from the floor then you were sunk. Every time the wind would blow the tree outside around, she would flatten herself against the mattress, so she wouldn’t be easy to grab.
Needless to say, Cassie did not get any sleep that night. Every second that she didn’t spend praying that the monsters would leave her alone were spent wishing that she were home, with her Mummy and Daddy. She remembered what it had been like, earlier that day, when they had all been together. They had talked of her celebrating her birthday. Now it looked like she’d never be happy again. All she wanted was to leave and never come back. That man was scary and he kept insisting that he was her Daddy. But he was wrong.
Another strange sound came up from below, causing fresh panic bubble up inside of the five-year-old. Sometimes she could hear voices outside. But they were the voices of the men that served the bad man. They were just as bad as he was. They whispered in hushed tones, like they were talking to the nighttime wind. By the time morning came, she was in a pit of despair. Her tears had dried on her face and her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. She wished that someone, anyone, would come help her.
But who?
* * *
Arthur Weasley was perhaps the most reliable wizard in England. You could set your watch by him. Everyday he came to his office at 7 o’clock sharp, earlier than all the other ministers. He went home for lunch with Molly at exactly noon and wouldn’t spend more than an hour away from the office. He was always the last Ministry wizard to leave at night. Often times, passersby on the street could see the lone glow of his wand bouncing around as he read through papers in the darkness.
This particular morning began just as all the others had. The sun was only peeking over the horizon when Arthur arrived in the office. He sat down to work at his mahogany desk immediately. An hour later, his over-worked and bleary-eyed secretary stumbled into the office. Arthur was always jovial and exceedingly polite, which made it very hard for her to curse him over her first cup of coffee. They were the only souls present in the Ministry building.
He always had a lot of work to do. These days, with Voldemort back in power, the workload at the Ministry had increased ten fold, but particularly for the Head of the Department of Missing Witches and Wizards. Arthur had requested to be moved up to this position years ago. It was a relatively new office, only being established during Voldemort’s first reign, so there were a fair amount of kinks to be worked out of the system. All the organizing and planning only added to the hours of late night work he had to do. It certainly wasn’t as much fun as his old office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, but then again, nothing was much fun anymore. The long hours didn’t bother him. The Burrow was far too quiet now. So quiet that it hurt his ears. He’d much rather be doing something constructive with his time.
The only thing he didn’t like about his new job was the office. It was much bigger, better equipped and had a better view than his last. All that was well and good, but the location bothered him. He was right across the hall from the office of the Standing Officer, a position held by the man he loathed most in the world: Lucius Malfoy. Generally, besides the constant reminder that he worked with Malfoy, it wasn’t so bad. For all intents and purposes, Standing Officer was a figurehead position. Most, including Arthur, didn’t even know what he did. Lucius Malfoy hardly ever ventured to his office. When he did it usually preceded a vicious attack from the Death Eaters by a few days. Lucius always made a great deal of noise, shouting at how incompetent everyone was. Arthur knew this was so he’d have an alibi, but Cornelius Fudge would hear nothing of it.
The last time the two of them had attempted conversation the result was a fistfight, so Arthur rarely spoke to Malfoy. Arthur had been in the office for nearly five years now, and only once had Lucius done more than grunt at him. It was almost a year after Ginny’s disappearance. Lucius swaggered into his office, glaring at the furniture as though it had all personally offended him. “Weasley,” he acknowledged the other man’s presence with a forced, polite nod. Then, without another word, he slapped a piece of paper down on Arthur’s desk and stalked out of the room apparently unable to stand another minute in the office.
Arthur had been too surprised to say anything during the entire encounter. After the shock wore off, curiosity began to build. What could possibly be so important that Lucius would come to him. He snatched the paper from were Lucius had placed it. It was a Missing Persons report, written in sloping, feminine hand. At first, Arthur thought he had misread it but further reading confirmed it. Lucius’ son, his name was Draco, was missing. He wasn’t sure what to make of this; he certainly couldn’t feel badly for Malfoy. He was, after all, certain that Lucius had something to do with his own daughter’s disappearance. But he did feel a bit of kinship with Malfoy since Arthur knew what it was like to lose one’s child.
“Mr. Weasley?” Arthur’s secretary’s voice made him jump in his seat. “There’s a woman here to see you.”
He had asked her to call him “Arthur” on several occasions, but she wouldn’t have it. She was young, just out of Hogwarts, and she had a certain idea of how things should be run at the Ministry. She was not unlike his son, Percy, in this regard. Though she wasn’t as well versed in whom she should be sucking up to. She had once told him that “some guy” was here to see him when the Minister of Magic himself had stopped by. This was why her description of “a woman” told him nothing other than the person was vaguely female shaped.
“Uh,” stammered trying to sound official for the secretary’s benefit. “Send her in.” He tried to busy himself, making it look like he was deep into research on some important case. In truth, it wasn’t really a “case” since the Ministry had closed it years ago. It was, however, very important in his estimations. For personal reasons, he dragged it up every few days. He closed the folder as he heard the woman’s footsteps approaching, sad to watch Ginny’s smiling face disappear under the cover of the manila folder.
The woman appeared, shadowed in the doorframe. Arthur cocked his head to the side. Even with her face obscured but he could still tell she wasn’t anyone he was expecting. Still, there was something...familiar about her. He couldn’t quite place where he had seen her before but he knew that he had. He noticed that her hand was shaking as she closed the door behind her. She was jumpy as though she half expected someone else to arrive.
Her cloak was made of a heavy, inky blank material. It was probably quite expensive. Arthur was sure it must be quite warm underneath and it wasn’t that cold outside. It was April after all. He was sure that the reason she had chosen these particular robes was because no light penetrated the material, keeping her identity hidden from anyone who looked upon her. His suspicious were confirmed when she made motion to remove her hood only after the door was firmly shut.
“Hello,” she said in a rather controlled, planned sort of way.
“Hello,” he replied uncomfortably, as he sat in behind his desk. “Um, let me take your cloak. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the leather chair that sat facing his desk.
“No, thank you,” she remained standing and slowly lowered the hood of her robes. “I can’t be staying.”
Pale, white strands of hair fell out from underneath the black fabric. For a moment, Arthur was sure she was a veela. Only they could have hair so silvery. Her face was gazing at him with a gentle smile, as if she had waited for this for a very long time. It was that smile that struck him funny. It was a few seconds before he realized why: he had never seen her smile before. He could see it, clear as day, her face as she looked at his children at the Quidditch World Cup. It had been as though she had smelled something foul.
It was Narcissa Malfoy.
“N-Narcissa,” he stuttered. “Your husband’s office is across the hall.” The words popped out of his mouth. What could she possibly want to talk to him about? But as soon as they were spoken, he felt silly. It was obvious after how methodically she had been since her arrival that she had intended to visit him, not her husband. He couldn’t figure out why.
“Lucius is the last person I want to talk to right now, Arthur,” she said, without the hint of superiority he would’ve expected from her.
“Why?” he wondered aloud. He knew why rational people wouldn’t want to see Lucius Malfoy, he just had never counted her among those people. He imagined she must be half-mad to have married him.
“He doesn’t know I’m here. And I trust you won’t tell him.” Arthur snorted. Narcissa instantly saw what was funny. Arthur and her husband rarely, if ever, spoke.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Is this about Draco?” he asked abruptly. It must have been her who wrote that report in the sloping hand.
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“We haven’t been actively looking into the disappearance of your son, Mrs. Malfoy. But all accounts he left of his own accord and since he’s a legal adult he is free to make the choice of where he wishes to --” Arthur started to prattle off the official details of the Malfoy boy’s case in a matter-of-fact manner. She stopped him with a mysterious look.
Narcissa shook her head. She knew all that already. “Mr. Weasley,” she began, as she glanced at a photo of the entire Weasley family he had on his wall. It must have been taken some time ago because the girl, Ginny, still smiled back at her. “I know you’re a very dedicated family man. So you, of all people, must understand that I would do anything for my Draco.”
Confused, Arthur nodded. “Of course...”
She held up a hand to silence him. She spoke again with a slightly higher pitched voice. “He’s been gone for several years. I would rather like to see him again before I die. Certain measures must be taken to insure this. I’m sure you find it odd that I would come to you on this matter. But under the circumstances, I think you’re the only one who can help me. Besides,” she said, a bit heavier, “you deserve to know...”
Arthur frowned. “Go on.”
Narcissa paused, unsure as to how she could go on. She remembered all too well how she had reacted when she had first found out. And there was a very high possibility that he wouldn’t believe a word she said. There was no better thing to do than just say it. If he didn’t believe her, then she had done her best.
Screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath and said in a deathly quiet whisper, “Lucius was the one who kidnapped your daughter. He took her from Platform Nine and Three Quarters and imprisoned her in Malfoy Manor.”
“WHAT?!?” he exploded, leaping to his feet. Both horror and anger were mixed in every feature of his face. It was one thing to suspect that Lucius had something to do with Ginny’s kidnapping; it was another thing all together to hear a confession from his wife.
Again, Narcissa held up a hand to silence him. “She’s no longer there. She escaped some five years ago. I don’t know where she is now,” she assured the still seething man. “I didn’t know about it until after she was gone. Draco left that same day. Lucius informs me that they are together, your daughter and my son. They’re both alive and well.”
Arthur sank into his chair in a heap and bowed his head. She could see herself in the shiny bald spot on top of his head. Although he felt like a great weight had been lifted from him, his own body seemed to have gotten heavier. She’s alive... he thought. He knew he should never trust a Malfoy but he found it hard to believe that Narcissa was lying to him. And he so wanted it to be true. He wanted Ginny to come home to him in one piece.
“You want Ginny back and I want Draco back,” she whispered. “So you see, we’re in the same boat.”
Arthur fidgeted with his hands. “Is that all?” he asked, wiping a lone tear from his face. His skin burned, embarrassed that she was seeing him cry.
“No... There’s something else. Well, someone else.” She smiled serenely. “Our granddaughter.”
His face snapped up to meet hers. He wanted to say something but words failed him. Their granddaughter?!? He didn’t know what to think or what to say. There were three definite schools of thought. One was ecstatic and proud to be a grandfather. One was horrified that Ginny had gone through that alone and with a Malfoy. And still another one was sad, and didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t place why. He wished he could’ve been there for her. She was his only daughter. He had hoped that she would come back to him and everything would be as it was. He knew now that Ginny would never be the carefree girl she once was, because she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a mother.
Narcissa’s voice sounded very far away when she spoke again. “The Dark Lord wishes to capture the girl and use her against the Resistance. Ginny and Draco are trying to protect her.” Narcissa blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. She felt horrible that he had to find out like this. She too wished things could’ve been different. It should’ve been joyous news from someone he loved. But Malfoys didn’t show love. And they didn’t cry.
She reached behind her head and picked up her hood, to once again shield her face from onlookers, in one swift motion. “I must go now. Lucius will miss me.” She turned and left as abruptly as she had come. Arthur didn’t even have time to say goodbye. All he heard was the swish of her cloak and the unmistakable sniffle of someone who had just begun to sob.
Narcissa broke into a run as soon as she was out of the office. It was a lie, Lucius wouldn’t miss her. He was busy with other things. She just couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. To think, if she had been more attentive years earlier, she could’ve stopped this. Then both of them would be happy. She knew in the depths of her heart that she probably wouldn’t have done anything even if she had known that Ginny Weasley had been prisoner in Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was not the hero type. That was exactly why she had planned this meeting. Now her part was finished and the weight wouldn’t rest on her shoulders anymore. She wouldn’t be spending her days in bed anymore.
She left Mr. Weasley alone with his confused thoughts. Her tears spoke louder than any words she might have said. He still wasn’t sure if he trusted her. If it was true then Ginny was alive then she was also in great danger. That was only if it were true. He tried to get back to work, as though everything were normal. The ticking of the clock sounded loudly in his ears and the hidden picture of Ginny was boring holes through the manila folder up at him, begging him for help. He would do anything for her.
After awhile, he couldn’t take it anymore. He seized a quill and scrawled an untidy, probably incoherent letter. He may not be able to trust Narcissa but there was one person who he knew would be able to sort it all out. He hastily attached it to the Ministry owl that was perched in the corner of the room.
“Take this to Albus Dumbledore,” he instructed the owl, who hooted and disappeared from sight.
* * *
Two bright, gray eyes poked out from underneath a heap of blankets. They blinked several times as the hazy sunlight slipped into the dark room. Malfoy Manor was never completely illuminated by the sun. Only a small corner of the room, near the window showed that the star actually existed. It was as though someone had tried their hardest to keep the light out at all times, and only brave beams ventured into the mansion. The eyes seemed to disbelieve that morning had come. They had been waiting for so long and hardly expected to ever see the break of day again.
The little girl that hid under the blankets stayed put even after she knew that it really was day again. Normally the monsters went away during the day, but there were other things in this place. She could feel them moving about. It was best to stay hidden as long as possible. The small lump in the middle of the bed didn’t move at all, only listened to the sounds outside her door. She desperately wanted to get out. She knew she couldn’t stay here another night. Bad things were planned for her. Besides, she’d go mad if she had to stay in that room much longer.
Cassie had stopped crying in the middle of the night. She wanted to be brave like her Mummy. And she didn’t want to give the monsters a clue as to where to find her. So she sat silently in the middle of the bed, only her two eyes exposed to the rest of the world, listening to the people on the other side of her door. She wished she could hear her Mummy or Daddy’s voice. She had hoped she wake up and be in their arms again. They would take care of her. But she was still in this dreadful place, and those people wouldn’t help her.
A little while later, there was something of a ruckus outside. Cassie tensed fearfully. Several people were filing past her door. She could see them from where she was perched as she had been able to see her father when he had first knocked on her hotel room door. They were mean men and they all dressed the same: in long, black robes. Snippets of information forced their way into her head as each one passed.
That guy liked to kill cute, fuzzy animals... He was hungry... The next one used a lot of bad words. Mummy wouldn’t like him... He was guilty. Cassie didn’t know what of, but it was bad... He was greedy.... He was mean to his kids. Not like Cassie’s daddy... Several passed at once; they were all very stupid... That one was her Grandfather. For a moment, she feared he’d open the door to her room as he passed. She didn’t want that. He was scary... The next one didn’t bathe properly... Those two were insane. They had been somewhere bad. Cassie felt sorry for them... There were a few more stragglers at the end... They were afraid. They didn’t want to go wherever they were going. Cassie couldn’t blame them. They shouldn’t go. Their Mummies wouldn’t like it.
Cassie breathed a sigh of relief once they were all safely passed her door. She worried that one of them would’ve come and taken her back to the Bad Man. She didn’t want to go back there. She never wanted to see him again.
She gasped in surprise as still another man passed her door. She could hear his shoes tapping loudly against the stone floor as all the others faded into the distance. He was one of those other men in the black robes. But he was different somehow. He wasn’t scared or guilty or stupid. He trailed so far behind the others, dragging his feet. He glared angrily at the ones in front of him. Cassie got the impression that he didn’t like the others. He thought they were dunderheads, whatever those were.
Then it hit her, like a light finally shining into the room. It was so clear and so obvious. He would help her. He would take her back to her Mummy and Daddy. He wasn’t like the others.
Scared that she might miss him, Cassie leapt from the bed, without a thought to the lurking monsters. She began to bang frantically on the heavy door with both of her small fists. She continued to do so until she heard him hoarsely whisper some words she didn’t understand, and the door swung open. He looked just like one of them. He wore long, black robes that covered his head. But he wasn’t. She knew it. She had never been more positive of anything in her entire short life.
“Hi,” she smiled as she looked up at him with exceptionally large eyes. “My name is Cassandra Weasley-Malfoy and I would like to go home.” She said her name proudly, as if it were the best name a person could have. Then she put her hands behind her back and twisted back and forth, trying to look cute and innocent so he’d help her.
The man only stared at her for several moments, not trusting his eyes and ears to be functioning correctly. Had she just said Weasley-Malfoy? Of course, she was the heir, he realized. Then he sunk to his knee in a gentle, uncharacteristic manner, and said, “I’m Severus Snape. I know your Mum and Dad.”
Cassie grinned broadly. Then he would know where to take her! “Can I call you Sevvie?” she asked, as she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He glared at her. He didn’t like to pick up little girls, but he did it nonetheless.
* * *
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