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Elemental	By : AngelaBlythe Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 3286 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
ELEMENTAL

~by The Labris~

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

All Along the
Watchtower�

A Short Lesson in
Pain, Part I

Draco tapped his wand on the arm of the chair that the Death Eater was
strapped in. The Death Eater, maskless and robeless, looked less intimidating
and more pathetic to Draco�s eyes, for the man was balding and had wrinkles
extending from his eyes to his mouth. Still, the man had been a powerful Death
Eater, in the higher ranks of Voldemort�s organization. His name was Siguard,
Morton Siguard. While his appearance was haggard and worn, for he had been
running for two days, he was still bitter and sarcastic, cruel and evil to the
end.

�I will ask you again, Siguard,� Draco warned, �and then I will begin to
torture you. Where is Voldemort? How many men are with him? How is he hiding
himself?�

Siguard promptly spat in Draco�s face and Draco promptly slapped his.
Then, wiping the saliva from his face he brought his wand to the tip of
Siguard�s nose. �You can�t do things like that,� Siguard said assuredly, �you�re
Ministry. You have to send me to Azkaban or something.�

Draco could feel the man�s fear. Yes, Siguard wanted to stay as far away
from Draco as he could. It was rumored Draco was crazy, and maybe he was,
because Draco rather enjoyed killing Death Eaters. Draco pressed a finger on
Siguard�s throat, finding his pulse. �You�re heart is racing, Siguard. Are you
afraid?�

�You wish,� Siguard growled. There was doubt laced in the growl, and it
made Draco smile.

�You knew Lucius, didn�t you,� Draco more stated than asked. Without
waiting for Siguard to respond, Draco withdrew his wand and turned his back on
the captive. �He was a very evil man, insane, they say. Well, as his son I
claim to be very much like him, evil, probably, insane, most likely, but
twisted and demented, a Death Eater, no. So you see, being a Death Eater puts
you at a severe disadvantage. You have taken from me, maybe not you personally,
but Voldemort certainly, what things I want in life. Now I will take my revenge
on you as if you were Voldemort, or I will take revenge on you as a man, and
kill you fast. It is your choice. You have ten seconds.�

�Spare me, please,� Siguard said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as
Draco turned around.

Draco gave a satisfied smile. �Well, as you wish.� He smirked and
pointed his wand at the man. �The spell I am about to cast on you is called The
Torture Spell and is Roman in origin. It means �pain,� and will amplify the
pain nerves in your body one hundred times normal levels, while at the same
time charging your brain with so much adrenaline you won�t be able to pass out.
If I flick you, it will be as if I punch you, and if I, say, break your finger,
it will be as if I�m driving hot, serrated knives into your eyes. Do we
understand each other?�

�You�re not allowed to do this!� Siguard shrieked, looking around the
room as if for assistance. �You�re Ministry!�

�Oh, I can assure you no one cares enough to know how I get my
information. They don�t even want to know, Mr. Siguard. Now, this will hurt
quite a bit. Torturpas!�

Draco cast the spell and listened as Siguard screamed for mercy. It
would take a mere four minutes to break him, and Draco looked at his watch to
time himself. �Now, Mr. Siguard,� Draco said, pacing around so Siguard couldn�t
see him. He took a-hold of one of Siguard�s fingers and began to bend it back.
�Where is Voldemort?�

CRACK!

�AAAARRGEHHH! Oh, GOD!!!� Siguard screamed as he looked at
his finger. The bone hadn�t broken through the skin, but there was a decidedly
abnormal bump at his knuckle. �AAAAAAAAHHHH!�

�Pity,� Draco mused, �it dislocated before I could break it. I must be
losing my touch. Next finger.�

As Draco moved to the middle finger the door opened and he looked up. It
was Weasel, and he looked serious. �We�ve got a situation, Malfoy,� he said
harshly. �Report to Moody. I�m supposed to take over here.�

Draco broke one of Siguard�s fingers and listened to the screams another
moment. Walking swiftly out the door and towards Moody�s office, Draco
reflected a small moment on how he had acted much like Lucius would have.

January 30, 2004

My son has been stolen from me.

I have a fear � no, not a fear � a suspicion, that I am about to pass
through the crucible. Never before have I felt such sorrow, never this sense of
hopeless terror. I have lived in fear. I have lived in hate. I have even lived
in love. But I have never felt like this. Would it be any worse if Cassian had
been ripped from my womb before birth? Would it be any worse if he had never
survived our lonely birth? I know not, but when I think of us, alone in the
dark bedroom, giving birth in secret, I sob at the fact that I had considered
that the worse it could get.

My mother should have been there to help. I do not blame her, because it
is I who have broken the tradition. My mother�s mother helped birth me. My
mother�s mother�s mother helped birth her. It has been like that, the last of
our pagan traditions boiled down to the birth of our children. I should have
been able to help Cassian discover his powers. Instead, without my wand and without
my Elemental powers, I was forced to tell him, not show him. I was never
allowed to move him through the stages of development like my mother did with
me.

We have become so dependent on each other, so radically connected, that
I can feel his heartbeat within my soul. My Elemental powers ache for his, and
no amount of Delacour girls fawning over me, their powers touching mine
cautiously, can replace him. I will teach them, for their father is away, and
doesn�t know how. They are more in tune with their Element than they think. But
they are so much different from Cassian; they don�t have the fire he has.

I have resolved to find my Cassian. I will walk the world for him, and I
will never give up. Nothing is worse than this eternal hell I now live in. Never,
not in my life, have I wanted to kill with this fury. I hated Riddle, and I
would have killed him if I had the power, but I never felt the cold rage of
revenge.

I will kill Cassian�s captors with my bare hands.

The Following

Draco watched the meeting in a reserved fashion. The High Prefect, an
aging woman named Matilda Law, was conversing adamantly with Moody, Dumbledore,
and Weasley � the Minister. She was cursing Ministry incompetence, claiming
that the guards the Ministry sent to protect Selene were inefficient. Draco
knew they weren�t. Longbottom, loath though he was to admit it, was one of the
best in the field. You couldn�t say a bad word against Martin Genovese, and
though he didn�t know the Delacour boy, he looked sturdy enough, and with Longbottom
and Genovese backing him he couldn�t go too wrong. The main problem was the
fact that Cassian and Ginny were now missing.

She hadn�t been given a wand, so Apparition was out of the question.
Draco knew she had other ways of transportation however, especially if Potter
had shown up. They were probably gallivanting across the countryside somewhere,
spewing worthless love nonsense and looking for Cassian. It didn�t matter;
Draco would find Cassian first. He would be Cassian�s father, not Potter.

Inhaling deeply, Draco snuck out the back of the meeting, unseen, or so
he thought. He made it halfway to the exit before he heard the footsteps behind
him. �Monsignor Malfoy! Monsignor Malfoy!� a voice that reminded him of his
mother�s called out.

It was high, airy, but young. Turning he found he was being tailed by
the four residing Delacour children. Well, Achilles was not a child, he was a
man, but at that moment he looked very young. But it was the girl that stuck
his eye. She looked about sixteen, and was an exact duplicate of her older
sister, Fleur, at that age. He remembered the Tri-Wizard Tournament well.

�My name ees Gabrielle Therese-Jeanelle Delacour, daughtair of Gustave
and Genevieve Delacour. I beseech you, please, listen before you leave,� she
pleaded, falling to her knees. She held a leather-bound, familiar book in her
arms, and tears were in her eyes. The younger two girls were openly crying,
their pale faces stained pink with emotion. Behind them stood Achilles, the
eldest of the Delacours, frowning distastefully at the scene.

Draco accented his head and the girl proceeded. �She �as been writing in
zis book; I �ave seen �er when I was sairving �er.� The girl blushed. �She ees
a very kind mistress, and a very skilled teachair. I want to be just like �er.�

The girl swallowed and bowed her head, extending the book. Draco took it
quickly. �This might prove helpful.�

�Monsignor Malfoy,� the girl, Gabrielle cried out as he turned to walk
away. He stopped, not looking back. �She talks of you�all the time. She talks
in her sleep, and to Cassian.�

Draco Apparated home.

January 5, 2004

I write for the first time in five years. Not short notes on old
parchment reminding myself to wash Cassian�s clothes. Not hopes written in sand
at the beach to be washed away by the tide. Not the scribbles of my mind that I
trace on the table. I don�t mean that sort of writing. I mean explaining,
revealing, and concealing my soul on paper.

Now I will write for myself. It seems as though before I was always
writing to someone, but no longer. I don�t hope that someone will read it now.
I am adult. I have a child. I have responsibilities. I will be mature. Before I
always wanted someone to write back, Riddle, Draco, anyone. But now I wish to
confine myself. I will resign myself to a solitary life, but I will not resign
myself to a silent one.

I was thinking, once the war was over, I would get a job in the
Ministry. Percy would find me something I�m sure. And maybe if I saved enough
money I could move out on my own. It doesn�t have to be anything great, but I
would like to leave my house. I could support Cassian and myself, and I could
teach him myself if the Hogwarts tuition is too much.

Maybe a small house�with flowers in the windowsill��an oak in the
backyard with a tire swing like I had when I was young� It would be somewhere
in the country, away from people. I�ve come accustomed to a life secluded, like
with Welsh, but it was comfortable. I didn�t have to worry about the world, or
care about it. I didn�t have to pay attention to fashions or styles or what
other people thought. Truthfully, I never wanted to worry about that. I never
wanted to care. I only lived in that world because I had no choice.

I don�t want Cassian to be stained with human nature that way.
Perhaps�because of what I have become�I cannot understand people anymore. I
don�t know what keeps me bound. Somehow I feel as though I don�t fit in here,
as though the only thing that keeps me from committing myself to the Elements
completely is Cassian.

Am I selfish? For not feeling accepted? I haven�t ever felt like that in
my life. I have always enjoyed human nature, feeling a part of something bigger
than myself. Humanity gives you that, but I don�t feel small anymore. I feel�

�universal�

I feel universal, as though I�m some sort of incorporeal spirit winding
useless in a husk body. The Elements gifted me with a beautiful husk body, but
it is still only a husk, a shell, a prison that keeps me bound to this earth.
If I were severed, severed from my husk, I wonder what I would become? Would I
become a true spirit? Would it be like death?

A mist clouds my judgment. Who am I? I have this fear, growing in the
shadow of my mind. I have a fear that I am not alone in my mind. I think I am
sharing it. This thought is not comforting.

January 8, 2004

A good portion of my time is spent performing menial tasks. After they
moved Cassian and I to Selene they seemed hell-bent on occupying me to the full
extent. I do not truly mind, but they have thrown me in a room with more than a
dozen Elementals and half Elementals that grate on my patience with their
fawning.

I must remind myself that they cannot help it. I am an Element; I am
like their mother. A part in them sings when I draw near, and it is addicting.
I have eyes on me all the time, worshipful eyes that dare not blink lest they
miss an action. I have shown by example what the true powers of an Elemental
imply. I haven�t shown myself, they would worship me as a goddess. Cassian has
shown however, what a real Elemental can do. He has healed wounds; he has
created a few fires; he has shifted the air to create a breeze. Most of the
students are between the ages of eight and sixteen, and have very low levels of
competence.

The Delacour girls are the exception. Gabrielle, the oldest of the girls
in Selene, for Fleur is performing Ministry duties, is exceptionally gifted,
despite being half a Wind Elemental. She works hard, and I can tell has a great
gift. She should be learning from someone more her level however, for she has a
tendency to compare herself to me, which will not do. She is a kind girl,
though, and has great love for her sisters, Sylvaine and Marielle. She teaches
them well. Even her oldest brother, Achilles, displays a high level of
Elemental competency. Their father must be very powerful. And very proud.

Most of my problems do not stem from my class. They stem from the Coven
Witches. I learned that before I was imprisoned I had been named Dreamweaver
High Priestess and that Dorothea had stepped down. I was also informed that
only a year or so before my return I was removed from Dreamweaver status
because I am no longer a Dreamweaver. It is confusing that these women once
venerated me but now almost hate me. As though I intentionally am the way I am.
I do not enjoy their company.

I am only familiar with Hermione, and she is a very busy woman. I am
alone for the most part, except for my small following. I am still very
secluded, even surrounded by people. Something is missing�

Writing to Who You
Thought Was Yourself, Part II

Draco read the three other entries with a tender eye. So many
memories�so many�memories. They were what killed him most these days. The next
two entries were dedicated mostly to her observations about the war and other
people she had recently met. She analyzed with a practiced mind, as though she
had never been gone at all. It was as though she had stepped out of the past to
write to him. She pulled at him.

Swishing golden liquid slid down his throat as he closed his eyes and
closed the diary. It was his duty, no, his obligation, to find Cassian. Her
diary had not given many clues to where she was looking, only that she was
terribly angry. Draco was angry too. But Draco had encountered five years of
anger, and he withheld much of it now, favoring to release it at a more
appropriate time. He would find her and follow her. Ginny�s Elemental
connection to Cassian had the advantage of time and conditioning. Draco knew
his son from a distance, but couldn�t find him in an arctic wasteland.

Bowing his head before the fire he made a silent promise to kill
Cassian�s captors and drew out his wand. Someone would die for this trespass.

The Liquid Kiss

Hermione yawned and rolled onto her stomach, feeling satiated from her
rest. She wasn�t tired anymore, and she couldn�t say that she had a headache.
She felt around for her pillow, which had slipped to the far side of the
bed�the green and black bed? �With thick curtains? �And�

Oh, Holy God. If Hermione was a religious person she would have crossed
herself. She wasn�t in her bed. She wasn�t even in her room. She was in bed
with a man. She was in bed with�

Gods�she had bedded her professor�

He had asked her if she was alone. It hadn�t been how the conversation
started, but he had asked that. After explaining to him Victoria�s theory, about
Elements once being human, and the reason he needed to study their blood, she
had offered to help him. She hadn�t demanded, but she hadn�t begged. �Professor
Snape, it would be beneficial for both our researching for us to work together
to solve this problem. Assisting you was something Coven Witch Bowman
suggested, but I would be honored to help you and to learn again from you.�

Maybe it was a little thick, but she had meant it. Snape was a brilliant
man, a very learned man, and Hermione would be honored to work with him. He had
sneered at this, but, to Hermione�s surprise, accepted her offer. The silence
in the room was followed by a suggestion that they store the samples so that
they could get to work the next day. In his personal laboratory she found seven
cauldrons, three of which were full and the others empty. It was sparse and
organized, even the storeroom, which he directed her to.

And then, in the still of the room, he had asked her, �Are you alone?�

Somehow, deep in her, Hermione knew that the most obvious meaning of
this question wasn�t his meaning. What his question asked was if she was by
herself, if the world didn�t know her, if people were foreign, if she had no
connections, if she felt unmoved by the love around her, if no one made her happy
in any way but to starve off the next bit of loneliness, if she thought friends
were mere decorations in her empty life. What his question asked was whether
she felt alone in the universe.

She had said yes and meant it. Her self-imposed isolation was infrequently
bombarded by Victoria and occasionally Harry and Ron; but yes, she was alone
with herself and her studies, and probably always would be. People didn�t
understand her the way she understood them, and it cast her out.

It surprised her to find he�Professor Snape�Severus Snape�Severus�was a
passionate man. He was so stoic and controlled all the time, but the fire in
his eyes ignited for her and it took her breath away. Kissing her with an
enthusiasm and emotion surprised and delighted her, and the hands that were
once scientific and precise were now careful and amorous. She felt like liquid
in his arms and could do nothing more than hold on, feeling that anything more
would be impossible. He kissed her so that her eyes rolled in the back of her
head and she felt an erotic heat all over her body. She had never been kissed
like that and assumed that she would never by another person.

Hermione froze as she felt Snape rustling beside her. She closed her
eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping some action of his would tell her where
she stood. But he did nothing and approached the fireplace. Hermione finally
understood when she cracked her eye open and saw that the fire had turned
green; someone was using the Floo.

�Severus, my boy,� a voice said from inside the fireplace. Hermione
quickly closed her eyes, staying still as a board, because the man talking was
Headmaster Dumbledore. How on earth did she manage to get herself in these
situations?! �Things are getting prickly in Selene. It seems that Ginny Weasley
and her son have gone missing. No one has seen her since yesterday morning. It
also seems that Coven Witch Granger has not returned from her errand, which she
left to do yesterday. No one can seem to find her, but Coven Witch Bowman seems
certain she was headed in your direction. Do you know where she might be?�

Hermione heard Snape�s weight shift on the wooden floors. �Yes,� he said
curtly.

There was a silence for a while and Dumbledore spoke again, if not a bit
awkwardly. �I see. And where is that, Severus?�

There was another silence before Snape answered in the same short tone.
�She�s in my bed, Albus.�

There was yet another silence and Hermione could swear she heard
Dumbledore give a low chuckle. �Well, what do you wish for me to tell them?
Coven Witch Bowman is getting rather frantic.�

�You may tell Coven Witch Bowman that when�Hermione�is ready to speak
with them she will speak with them, and that she is a grown woman and doesn�t
need to have tabs kept on her like a ten-year-old, homesick Hufflepuff.�

Dumbledore seemed to chuckle again and replied that he would relay the
message. Then, Hermione heard Snape mumbling to himself and felt him fall hard
onto the bed, a slender hand caressing her bare shoulders as it ran through her
hair. She controlled her shiver enough to seem asleep, but was reassured by the
gesture. His lips fell lightly on her spine, traveling up into her hair, and
she realized he was trying to rouse her.

Hermione took her time opening her eyes for two reasons, she loved the
way he touched her and she wanted to pretend like she was really asleep.
Slowly, sleepily, she opened her eyes and found dark, midnight oceans staring
cautiously at her. Up close she could see his age, he had to be nearing
forty-five by now, and he had lines around his eyes and mouth that made him
look a little older. His hair was still jet black, same as his eyes, and his
pale skin betrayed his preference for the domestic.

She had been a virgin the night before, and he had treated her like a
goddess, treated her better than any person she had ever met. She had felt such
need and love radiating from him she was forced to think that his feelings had
developed before that night. Over the years after her graduation from Hogwarts
she had seen Snape many times. They were in the Order together, and had even
fought in a few battles together, one outside Hogwarts the week after Ginny was
captured and one the same day Ginny was captured. She couldn�t say they had
ever been close, but she had talked a few times with her old professor, never
suspecting that he might be feeling something for her. As she examined it
closely, she could almost see the signs. Signs not just of his attraction to
her, but of her slow attraction to him. It had started as respect, and then
grown to a sort of admiration, and from what she had displayed the night
before, an intricate understanding of him through observation and probably
romantic feelings as well.

And now with his eyes on her intently her mind froze and the only thing
she could murmur was, �Good morning.� She licked her lips and blinked at him
quietly.

�Good morning,� he replied silkily.

Hermione found herself kissing him passionately, drunk in the feeling of
his hands traveling up her stomach and arms. He rolled her onto her back and
kissed her neck reverently, whispering quietly into her neck. He sighed
heavily, propping himself up on an elbow and looking her in the eye. �You need
to go back to Selene,� he said to her. �People will begin to worry.�

She looked stonily at the ceiling and pouted. �Let them worry.�

�You have responsibilities,� he reminded her. Out of the corner of her
eye she thought she caught him smirking.

�And I�ll be fulfilling them in about twenty minutes. I�m your
assistant, remember,� she quipped.

Hearing his deep chuckle she turned to him sharply. It was pleasant to
see him smile, and she regarded him closely before hoping off the bed and
searching for lost articles of clothing. Between putting on her shirt and
slipping on her shoes, she turned to him over her shoulder, conscious that he
had been watching her intently the whole time. �I don�t want Ron and Harry to
know about this.�

�What a coincidence,� he murmured humorlessly. Hermione caught the
sarcasm anyway and smiled to herself. She could get to like the sarcasm.

�I�ll tell them when I�m ready,� she said softly as she pulled on her
last shoe.

She was completely taken off guard by his arms snaking around her waist.
His teeth nipped at her collarbone before pulling at her earlobe. Then,
inhaling deeply, sensually into her neck, he whispered in his velvet-flavored
voice, �You smell like me. I like it.�

Hermione shivered, swaying slightly with his body before turning and
kissing him square on the lips. His bare skin was warm under her fingers, and
she delighted in trailing her hands up and down his arms. When she broke off
the kiss and looked in his eyes she sighed. �I�ll be back tomorrow, to work on
the samples.�

He nodded. �Use the Floo; it�s limited to this building. Use it to get
to the main hall and then go to the Apparation point.�

She turned to his fireplace and grabbed a handful of the powder.
�Severus,� she said softly, not turning. �I�m glad to have been here.�

She tossed the Floo in the fire and was off.

A Short Lesson in
Pain, Part II

12 Grimmauld Place
� Temporary Ministry of Magic Headquarters

Gustave Delacour paced the carpet impatiently as Monsignor Weasley
poured himself another cup of tea. Gustave had been given the honor by his
Ministry to act as a temporary liaison between France and Britain. The real
liaison was an elderly man by the name of Sailles, a third cousin to Gustave in
fact, and he had been ill for several months now. France�s Floo network had
been shut down in the chaos and the British Ministry of Magic had forbid any
Portkeys in or out of Britain for the moment, unless it was to Selene. While
Gustave had never acted as an official liaison between countries, he was a
fairly important political figure within the French Ministry and knew how to
hold his own against the Britons.

There were several other men and women in his place that were also
meeting Monsignor Weasley in little over half an hour. Most weren�t the normal
diplomats, but witches and wizards that either had the stamina to fly or
Apparate to the small island of Britain. They were currently waiting for the
delegate from Peru, who was flying in by carpet and would arrive shortly.

Gustave had been up all night and morning since he received news that
his daughters were to be sent to Selene, that they and the rest of his family
were known targets of Death Eaters. Fleur, his first child and daughter, was
currently at Gringotts preparing for lockdown; Achilles, his first son and
second child, had been honored with the position of guard-auror in Selene;
Xavier, his third and politically-minded child, arrived from Hogwarts to assist
him were being called the Midnight Meetings; Gabrielle, Sylvaine, and Marielle,
his youngest daughters, were residing at the Flying City with their mother,
Genevieve. With his family split between three of the most secure locations in
the world, Gustave was allowed a small assurance of their safety.

�Monsieur Delacour,� Monsignor Weasley said in a dry, English accent,
catching Gustave slightly off guard. French was always turned into an ugly
language with the British tongue. �Please, sit. My nerves are not quite up to
this, what with�with our situation.�

Gustave obliged him and sat next to his second son, Xavier.

Monsignor Weasley sat too, across from Gustave and his son with a cup of
steaming tea perched in one hand. He pushed his spectacles up his nose and
sighed, as if everything took too much effort. �We are both family men, are we
not, Monsieur Delacour? I have five children, and a beautiful wife. You have
six and an equally beautiful wife. We live for our families. Do you
understand?�

Gustave understood what Monsignor Weasley meant by a �family man,� and
also understood himself to be one, but he didn�t pretend to know where
Monsignor Weasley was going with this line of questioning. He nodded however
and waited for the British Minister to reply.

The redheaded man nodded in return and continued. �We are the ones that
have the most to lose, Monsieur Delacour. You and I. And all the other parents.
We have our families to think of, because really this is what all this is about,
isn�t it? Family. Our family�s safety. Our family�s happiness. That is why I
took my position. I didn�t take it because I would become more successful or I
would become richer or I would become more powerful. I took this position
because, as a man and a father, I saw it as the best way I could protect my
family�my parents�my brothers and sisters�my wife�my sons and daughters. This
is�this is why you do what you do�isn�t it?�

Gustave nodded again.

The minister was quiet again. �You and I will fight together, Monsieur
Delacour. I think�I think that you and I are very much alike� I would very much
like to see you with me when the time comes�and it will come, Monsieur
Delacour�it is coming very soon.�

Gustave watched the young Briton take another sip of his tea, gazing off
into a corner of the room, his eyes distant. But he knew, he knew what Gustave
knew. The time was coming�when they would have to lay everything on the line.

�That isn�t why I called you here, or your son, Monsieur Delacour,�
Monsignor Weasley continued brusquely, putting down his tea and rising,
wandering behind his seat. �Wizards will be pouring in from all over the globe,
Monsieur. I want to give them the feeling that Europe is united against � you
must pardon me � Voldemort. The envoys from Germany, Italy , Spain , Austria ,
Poland , and the other powers agree. But, with the past animosity between
France and Britain , it seems that our unity will largely hinge on our
countries. We want the same things, Monsieur Delacour. I think it is time that
the world knows where Europe firmly stands on the issue. This meeting will have
many little cliques and sections; I wish to encourage you not to join them.
This is not a power struggle, we agreed on this before. This is a struggle for
our children. If we get caught up in our own game, Voldemort will win, for he
doesn�t have to play the same game. He is already united, and now we need to
be.�

�I understand, Monsignor Weasley ��

And that was precisely when Gustave felt it. It wasn�t strong, like an
echo of pain, but he grabbed at his head just the same. It was like getting
pricked with a needle. It hurt initially, but it soon wore off.

�Father�� he heard his son ask, his voice obviously pained and confused.
Even his half-Elemental son felt it.

�Is there something the matter, Monsieur Delacour?� the Minister of
Magic asked.

Stronger this time, the pain seemed to come from every corner of his
soul, like someone was ripping it away from him, similar to a Dementor but�with
heat. This second wave of nausea and pain sent him on his hands and knees to
the ground, panting with exertion. His head was spinning, as if someone had hit
him soundly over the head with a club. Xavier was grasping at chest, as if he
were trying to rip off the invisible vice tightening around whole body.

And again, with so much force that Gustave screamed in pain. He had
broken bones before. He had bled profusely and lost blood before. He had been
hexed with such force that he sobbed. But nothing, not anything he could
remember or imagine, could compare to this hellish pain vibrating throughout
his whole body. He was going to die.

Another wave, more intense and longer in duration. Gustave imagined he
could hear shouting in the distance, above the sea of pain he drowned in.
Someone grasped his hand. It was one of his sons, Xavier by the feel of his
Elemental presence. There was so much pain�again and again and again and again�

There was a certain pain in the black place his mind went after that,
worse than it should have been. He was even tortured in unconscious.

Hogwarts �
Dumbledore�s Office

For Minerva McGonagall there had always been a bit of offence taken at
the impropriety of her supervisor. For one thing, Albus Dumbledore was supposed
to be the most respected and feared wizard in Britain. And instead, Albus
Dumbledore was a nine-year-old with a beard and a funny inclination towards
good, clean chaos. For another thing, Albus Dumbledore was NOT supposed
to be offering anyone candies, especially when he should be offering her a
brain aneurysm instead. Well, not offering her, but he was certainly trying to
give her one.

�You can�t keep these kids here, Albus,� Minerva explained patiently.
�That�s clearly against the school code. If a parent, with viable reason and
without harm to the child, requests the removal of their student from school
then we are compelled to comply. The Ministry could shut us down!�

Albus smiled at her. �I would surely like to see them try.�

Minerva sighed. �I�m not saying that I like it, Albus. But rules are
rules. And ��

�� some rules are meant to be broken. This is a matter of their safety.
Hogwarts lockdown procedure will go along as planned. We will continue taking
in any children who need shelter for seventy-two more hours, and then we will
go into blackout and shield-up and be not heard of until the end.�

His speech brokered no room for protest and Minerva sighed. No one could
accuse Dumbledore of being indecisive. No one could accuse him of being
particularly predictable either.

And then there was a moment in which Minerva felt quite strange, like
she was morphing into her cat animagus form. The pain involved in morphing was
never great, and neither was this, but it was there all the same. A peculiar
sense of terror gripped Minerva and she fastened her hands to the armrests
firmly. She took a deep breath and focused on the far wall.

This next time it was stronger, but not strong enough by half to make
her cry out. It was uncomfortable at best. It was getting your teeth pulled
uncomfortable. Or getting a shot uncomfortable. Or migraine uncomfortable.

Minerva felt as if Thor�s Hammer had struck her in a thousand places at
once. She was on the ground, pain shooting through every nerve under her skin,
even her eye-lids hurt. This reverberating pain knocked her breathless, and she
knew that this was no normal pain. This was Fire speaking to her, but not in
its truest form.

��Minerva��

Like a distant dream, a memory, ten thousand years ago�Dumbledore�s
voice reached over time and butterfly-ed over her conscious. The pain was everywhere,
and there was no escape. Minerva felt as if she were dying, lying in a pool of
her own vomit and she jerked and spasmed.

If this ended her life she would be glad if she never had to feel this
torture again. It seemed a swarm of angry bees was chasing her into darkness,
stinging her skin and piercing her lungs.

Gringotts �
Outside the Head Goblin�s Office

With infinite charisma and style, William Weasley, Bill to his friends
and family, tripped on an upturned tile and caught his balance on the nearest
wall. With a goofy grin he threw his hair back and straightened his jacket. He
would walk on as though nothing had happened. But, as luck had it, Fleur had
seen it and she wasn�t going to let him off so easily.

She gave him a sly smile as he approached and batted her eyes
flirtatiously. Bill wasn�t unlike other men, really. But he did know her trick.
She was at least a fourth Veela and she knew she was absolutely beautiful. Bill
could never resist her, but it didn�t start out that way. She had been attracted
to him first. Bill remembered seeing her at the Tri Wizard tournament all those
years ago, curious blue eyes twinkling in his direction as he talked to young
Harry Potter. The year after that she had started working at Gringotts and a
few months after that they�d started dating.

In a way, Bill felt bad for dating her. It wasn�t her age, she was a
full-grown witch and she could date whomever she wanted. But when he knew he
might not be able to marry her, that he wouldn�t be able to start a family in
these warlike conditions, he began to feel guilty. She felt the same way and
never pressured him into a proposal, but he could feel her disappointment. He�d
talked to Charlie, who was in a similar tough spot. He loved that MacFusty
girl, but until the war was over it wasn�t safe to marry her and get on with
the normal steps of life.

Bill and Charlie had differed from their younger brothers in this way.
They were old enough during He Who Must Not Be Named�s first rising, and they
had seen what it did to families. Just look at the Longbottoms with their
insanity � they couldn�t take care of their son and love him the way he
deserved. Percy and George weren�t quite old enough to see the results of that
war. Bill and Charlie didn�t resent their younger brothers however. Percy was
extremely successful, Minister of Magic and all, and his wife and children were
beautiful. Not unlike the circumstances of their childhood, no one knew what
Fred and George were up to, only that they were brilliant. Somehow George still
found time to be a father and husband.

But Bill just couldn�t do that to Fleur. He was in a fairly targeted
position as head of the Department of Magical Cooperation, not to mention he
routinely snuck out onto the battlefield when the occasion arose. If he married
Fleur, they had children, and then was killed in the war, he would never be
able to forgive himself for deserting her. He felt guilt just thinking about
it.

Taking a deep breath, Bill smiled at his beloved little Frenchie-Veela
and swept her up into an active waltz, no music playing in the dim, deserted
hallway outside the Head Goblin�s office. Her laughter fell like singing water
down a cliff and her hair swirled behind her gracefully. With a misplaced dip,
Bill bent her back slightly and looked into her crystalline eyes.

A soft, reverent smile crossed her lips and the hand on his shoulder
raised to touch his cheek. �I will miss you,� she whispered, biting her lip and
looking away.

Bill knew she would miss him, because he would miss her. But he had come
to escort her from Gringotts to Selene for the single purpose of being able to
say good-bye. Or as she always said with imperfect grammar, �No good-byes, only
see-laters.� He had been forced to say too many �see-laters� to her in his
life, that he vowed if this war ended right and they were still living, he was
going to marry her and worship her for the rest of their lives.

He slid his hand through her soft, blond hair to cradle her head. Then
he kissed her like it would be the last time he would have the chance. He could
immediately feel her tears on his cheeks as she wound her arms around his neck
and shuddered. Too often Bill forgot how fragile she really was; she always
gave off an air of superiority and independence. But Bill knew she wanted to be
loved, she had told him. �None of zis �love at fairst sight� nonsense. I want a
man to love me forevair.� Bill would love her forever.

They stood their clinging to each other for a few moments, just
breathing in each other�s ears sweet nothings. Bill couldn�t understand most of
hers; they were in French. But he made sure she knew how he felt and what
exactly was going to happen when he came back to get her again.

Then they began the long trek to the only Apparition site left in the
vicinity of Gringotts. Most of the sites had been shut down for the oncoming
battle. Fleur would Apparate to the Hogwarts station, the one before the front
gates, and step on one of the last Portkeys to Selene in Aujuittqu. There she
would be safe and Bill wouldn�t have to worry about her.

About halfway down the hall Fleur stopped and took her hand out of his,
putting it on her own stomach. She swayed slightly and Bill grabbed hold of her
shoulders to support her. �Fleur?� he asked worriedly, seeing the dazed look in
her eyes.

She was breathing heavily, as if she had just ran a race down the
corridors. �Bill�� she murmured.

Then she was screaming as her legs fell out from under her and she
landed on the floor before Bill could catch her again. �Fleur!� Bill shouted as
she moaned on the ground, tears falling from her eyes and pained shrieks flying
from her lips.

She began to be wracked with terrible spasms and Bill was near to
petrification in fear. He did the only thing he could think and grabbed her
around the waist and held her arms to her sides in hopes she wouldn�t hurt
herself. Her screams and his penetrated the mountain fortress of Gringotts and
goblins came running to the scene.

�Bill!!!� she screamed one last time before her eyes closed and she
passed out. Her body was still reacting to the pain and flailing about when the
goblins came rushing up, speaking hurriedly.

Tears were running down Bill�s face from fear and all he could remember
was them disentangling him from her body and letting him follow them as they
took her to the infirmary.

The Flying City of
Selene in Aujuittqu � Portkey Station

Neville had never pinned himself as the smartest man on the planet. He
wasn�t ever the richest, and he wasn�t ever what girls called a heartthrob.
Those were some of the reasons why he couldn�t understand why this beautiful,
perfect, wonderful girl was even considering looking in his direction.

Neville Longbottom had made a lot of changes in his life since his last
year at Hogwarts. His Gran had pushed him one too many times, so he had moved
out as soon as he graduated. He got a job organizing plants and herbs in an
apothecary on Diagon Ally to pay for his shack of an apartment. He wasn�t
allowed to mix potions. It wasn�t the cleanest of ways to live, and it
certainly wasn�t the easiest, and he definitely made his fair share of
mistakes. It didn�t get easier, but he never regretted his decision, and he
never considered going back to living with his Gran.

While living on his own he had made several life-altering decisions,
including the decision to stop being a butterball and shave off his
twelve-year-old baby fat. He�d gone to what Muggles called a gym and began
copying what other men were doing. The amazing potential of his body to put on
muscle surprised him, and Neville found himself wondering if all he�d thought
about himself was wrong. He looked strong, and he was strong � stronger than he
really knew. It wasn�t just his body that was changing. It was the way he
thought. He could do things; he knew he could. He began to excel at work and they
began letting him work with potions. With this confidence he was able to do
things he never thought possible, and soon enough he felt he had the right
mind-frame to go out for the Auror force.

That had always been his goal. It was why he hung around Ron and Harry
when he could, because they were going to be aurors. It was why he had joined
dueling club, and why he had volunteered in Dumbledore�s Army. It was the
reason that he followed Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna into the
Department of Mysteries. And it was the only way he could hope to avenge his
parents.

After retaking the some tests he had failed a few years before, Neville
had good enough scores to be accepted into the Auror�s College in Glasgow. And
he excelled. And he was promoted. And he became a force to be reckoned with. He
wasn�t any Harry or Ron, but he was a solid soldier. He was someone people
could count on. And that was one thing he�d always wanted. All his life people
expected him to fail; they expected him to melt cauldrons; they expected him to
screw up hexes. Now they expected him to protect them. And he could do it.

But deep down he was still insecure. Sure he had confidence, he was
certain of his abilities, but the voice in the background kept on whispering
what if�what if� His accomplishments had brought him together with one of his
mentors, Martin Genovese, and a top French auror named Achilles Delacour. They
were the three best guard-aurors of their age, and they were guarding the most
important treasure Neville could think of�children. But no matter how far his
accomplishments brought him, Neville still thought of himself as a shy, chubby,
third year.

That was why he couldn�t understand why this beautiful angel would even
glance in his direction. But every day since he�d been at Selene there she was.
In the mornings she would bring Martin, Achilles, and Neville breakfast, a
French bread she baked regularly. Neville had always supposed it was because
Achilles was her older brother and she was just being nice, but Achilles, laughing,
had informed Neville that his younger sister, Gabrielle was her name, had a
crush on him. And the pastries were for Neville. This had caused Achilles
Delacour to laugh even harder and pat Neville firmly on the shoulder, as if to
say, �I like you, Neville, but if you break �er �eart��

Neville thought it was nice. Not just the pastries, but the feeling
behind them. The many feelings. Feelings he hadn�t had for a long time.
Because, at one time, Neville had fashioned himself in love. And for a long time,
Neville had believed his wife had loved him back. Natalie was a beautiful girl
� a beautiful woman � and a strong Gryffindor. But her love for him had waned
when his had waxed, and she had left him for the arms of some other man. A man
who stayed home more often. A man who wouldn�t leave her to practice or train,
or any of the things that Neville was obligated to do. It just hadn�t worked
out.

But little tingles of emotion couldn�t be ignored. Neville hoped he was
feeling something special when she batted her eyes at him, and smiled sweet
smiles. Neville hoped he wasn�t imagining things. Because Neville knew that she
was a Veela � or part-Veela. And the thought of something as perfect as
Gabrielle looking twice at him made his stomach grow light.

�Good morning,� Gabrielle Delacour said brightly, a basket of her French
pastries in hand as she smiled genially at Neville, then Achilles and Martin.

For the past three mornings they had been guarding the Portkey point of
Selene. It was directly inside the main doors and was portioned off with paint
in a large circle on the ground. At the moment, that Portkey area and the front
door were the only ways to leave Selene, and so far no one unexpected or
unwanted had come through either.

Gabrielle smiled prettily at him as he selected his breakfast. He always
chose the same thing, because it was his favorite and he didn�t know what the
others were. Neville sighed when she moved on and began chattering with her
older brother in French. They laughed and Achilles looked at Neville for a
moment. Neville was sure they were talking about him and his face turned red.
He was sure it did.

Achilles nodded and then turned to Neville. �Gabrielle says that she
needs�� at this point he rolled his eyes and looked crossly at his smiling
sister, �she needs help moving a room for some new children. Since she can�t do
it herself, her privileges being restricted after the incident,� Neville had
heard she�d ran a table into Ginny�s skull, �the Coven Witches have told her to
find another way to complete her task. And she wants you to help her.�

After a short moment of silence, Neville looked at the delicate
Gabrielle and then at Martin and Achilles. Martin was smirking and Achilles
looked a bit put off. �Ah�will you two be all right by yourselves.�

Neville was pulled forcefully towards one of the corridors by a gentle
hand, leaving Martin and Achilles with a pleading look on his face, as if to
say, �Just make up an excuse�any excuse� Save me!� But they didn�t and
Gabrielle chattered happily about this and that until they came upon a long
hallway, turned in, and were presented with complete emptiness.

�Zis is it!� Gabrielle smiled. �It ees my responsibility to create
twenty empty rooms and put furniture in zem by ze end of ze morning�or else. I
am trying to become a Coven membair, like my sistair. High Prefect Law says I
am vairy gifted! But now I �ave a test and I will pass. You will �elp, Monsieur
Lon-bot-tom.�

�Ah�what do you need me to do?�

About an hour later Neville was sweating heavily. It was no mean feat to
use that much magic all at once, and Gabrielle was a hash taskmaster. She said
�chair� and he already had three by the time he thought to ask where to put it.
She seemed very pleased however, and gave every room her stamp of approval before
moving on to the next one. Her younger sisters had dropped by to look for a
while, but Gabrielle had sent them off with various jobs. Gabrielle, as one of
the oldest witches in her position in Selene, took control of many of the
younger children, and led them very well. No wonder the Coven was training her
this early.

��Ere, Monsieur Lon-bot-tom,� she said with a flourish of her hand.
There was a tall glass of lemonade that she offered him, looking rather pleased
with herself. �I was thinking��

And then she stopped, her hand going to her chest in a pained manner.
She swallowed hard and looked at him oddly. �Did you�did you feel zat?� she
asked quietly.

Neville hadn�t felt anything, but he became rather worried when
Gabrielle inhaled deeply and then choked, coughing with tears in her eyes. She
moaned a little and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. �Miss Delacour!�
Neville shouted, rushing to her side as she lost her balance and began to fall.

She was so light, so tiny in his arms, that Neville worried he might
break her. Jerking suddenly, Gabrielle let out a loud scream, one that pierced
Neville�s ears and made him flinch. She was screaming without words over and
over, and nothing he said made her stop or calm. Tears were rolling down her
face when Neville skillfully scooped the light girl into his arms and began
running with her spasming body towards the infirmary.

On his way, passing through the main hall and Portkey station, Neville
saw the most astonishing thing. Achilles Delacour was yelling loudly on the
floor, shuddering violently as Martin Genovese tried to hold his arms down,
shouting for help.

All Neville could coherently recall afterwards was Gabrielle�s screams.

The Flying City of
Selene in Aujuittqu � Coven Witch Granger�s Quarters

The bed still smells like transfiguration, Hermione noted
as she fell face-forward onto her mattress. The rooms were sparse, for she
hadn�t gotten the chance to become homey in them yet. With any luck she
wouldn�t need to. Even though the battle was unavoidably on the eve of its
culmination, Hermione still, from time to time, entertained the idea of some
anticlimactic ending in which world peace was signed into the hands of the
Ministry and everyone lived happily ever after. It was a nice thought.

At least she would be allowed a brief rest before she was sent off on
some menial task and then off to the books. There was still a lot of questions
to be answered. Upon entrance in Selene, Hermione had been debriefed by a stout
woman by the name of Caroline something-or-other. The woman had a lisp and a
terribly thick country accent, but Hermione gathered that Ginny and Cassian
were gone, Cassian presumably kidnapped and Ginny on the rampage after him. No
one knew where they were and as many witches and wizards as could be spared
were in search of them.

While taking a shower Hermione made a few educated guesses. With the
information available to her, she gathered that a large-scale warrant had been
placed on several high profile wizarding families and so off to Selene they
came. The Weasleys, Cassian in particular, was at the top of this list and had
been captured sometime yesterday evening. Ginny had gone after him and neither
had returned. Hermione thought Cassian was captured by Voldemort. Hermione also
thought Ginny was going to kill someone.

All dressed and clean, Hermione made her way Victoria�s rooms, taking
her time and gathering herself. Victoria would no doubt question Hermione
mercilessly about the previous night and Hermione had no inclination to answer
any pointed questions at that time.

And then Hermione heard a high-pitched scream. Dashing to Victoria�s
chambers, Hermione opened the door to find Victoria crumpled on the ground,
screaming and sobbing, wailing and twitching with her sons Lawrence and Fred
crying into their mother, convulsing as well.

Hermione screamed for help.

Scotland � The
Highlands

Draco had used a fairly complex Tracking Charm to locate Ginny. Just to
make sure, he hadn�t Apparated. He had flown all the way from his home to here.
Scotland. Somewhere in the northern Highlands. It was chill and windy, there
was a thick sheet of snow lining the ground and not much sign of life. He
hadn�t seen any homes for miles, but he kept on recasting the Tracking Charm to
make sure he hadn�t lost her. For some reason, his charm didn�t find Potter
anywhere in the vicinity. Either he had a very complicated Anti-Detection Charm
on him or he wasn�t there. Draco was inclined towards the former.

As he flew closer to the location the Tracking Charm claimed, Draco ducked
lower to the ground, slowing so that he could see about himself. The gently
sloping hills revealed little, but went monotonously on forever. It was early
and the sun had just barely poked above the clouds, and it gave the scene a
sense of serenity that Draco knew to be false. There was a battle on the way,
and any experienced auror could feel that.

And then Draco saw her. She was standing alone in the middle of the
snow, wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt despite the bitter cold. She stuck out
miserably in the white. Draco hovered about fifty feet above the ground and
watched her back as she knelt into the snow on her knees, arms spread out like
an eagle. What could she be doing?

He wasn�t close enough to hear the exact words, but he was sure she was
speaking, but not anything he was familiar with. It seemed�it seemed very old
and whispering, and then harsh and cracking.

The only way Draco could explain what happened next was that a large
dome of Elemental energy, invisible of course, formed around Ginny and then
exploded, reaching far and wide across the countryside and dying out, like a
ripple dissipates with distance from the source. And it knocked Draco off his
broom, sending him reeling to the snow, which did little to break his fall.
Crippled with pain, Draco rolled to his knees only to be bombarded with another
shocking wave of torture.

Draco puked as an intense surge of nausea washed over him. His skin was
tingling as if acid had been poured over his body and into his lungs, frying
his nerves. This was a pain he had never felt before, something that was
foreign. Pain certainly wasn�t foreign. He�d had so many types and kinds of
pain that he�d forgotten the differences. Did it hurt more to lose your heart
or lose your blood from a seeping, oozing wound of red-hot nails being pounded
into your thighs? Who could tell?

Another tide of energy caught him on his knees and sent him face into
the dirt. Coughing, blood stained the white snow and all Draco wanted was to
curl up in a ball and make it all go away. He had battled Dementors before in
his life, but even their sucking hadn�t prepared him for this sort of soul
torture. Surely his soul was coming out of all the pours in his skin!

Again and again he was bombarded, but Draco wouldn�t surrender into the
dark that threatened to overwhelm. Sweating and probably crying, Draco dragged
himself leglessly to where Ginny knelt. What had once seemed only feet was now
miles, each inch stinging with new pain. Draco coughed up more blood, wiping
his mouth on his black sleeve. He was just a few more feet away, and the
crackling energy Ginny was emitting was only getting stronger.

He wouldn�t be able to use his wand; he was too weak. But if he could
distract her somehow, he might be able to break her concentration and make her
quit this torture! By now Draco was trembling uncontrollably, his hands shaking
without reason. He had lost rule over his body; his nerves were independently
firing.

With extreme effort, Draco drew himself to a kneeling position directly
behind Ginny and laced his fingers together above his head. Then, with tears
rolling down his face and blood streaming from his mouth and ears, Draco fell
on Ginny with all his bodyweight and knocked her to the ground.

Draco shook wildly when he touched her skin, as if something in her very
body sent lighting surging through his system. Vaguely, so perhaps it was just
a dream, Draco opened his eyes and saw red and white, Ginny�s face, before
everything subsided into black. Only cold was left.

��All Along the Watchtower� � a FANTASTIC song by Jimi Hendrix, though
I�m not sure what album it first appeared on, it was actually written by Bob
Dylan, but Hendrix made it famous

��roses in the windowsill�� lyrics in the song �Flowers in the Widow�
by Travis off of their The Invisible Band album
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