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365 Days (1 year)	By : wherdatcomfrom Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 17501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five: Almost a Year Later
Molly Weasley landed on the steps of Malfoy Manor in a heap. She was dragged up to the entry and shoved through the door. In the center of the vestibule, she came face-to-face with a nightmare . . . Antonin Dolohov.
“Ooh, ain't you pretty?” he said, putting a hand to her face, to brush across the corners of her eyes. “You'll fit in perfectly. Take her to my room, get her cleaned up.”
Before she could speak, she was lifted, dragged through the manor halls, dumped into a tub of cool water and scrubbed until she nearly bled. When she was dry, she was left alone to dress, in rich looking robes that had been sized up for her. The months she has spent in the ministry cells, fighting to stay alive on the limited food given them, had taken its toll on her girth, but Molly would never be a small woman.
As she began fastening up the outer robes, the door flew open and Dolohov entered. “That will be sufficient. Leave it undone. Dinner will be served in a minute.”
Molly backed away, but the wall stopped her before she was a comfortable distance. “What do you want?”
“Me?” Antonin placed a hand to his chest and pulled a shocked face, but Molly wasn't fooled.
“You. I remember you. You killed my brothers.”
“Brothers? I may have. Who were they?”
“Gideon and Fabian Prewett.” She snapped. “You tortured them and then you killed them.
“Prewett . . . Oh, yes! I remember them. Very stubborn, those two. Your brothers, you say? Oh, this will be interesting. If you're half as stubborn, breaking you will be quite an accomplishment. Our food is here. Come. Sit.”
He motioned to the chair across from him on a small table where food was being placed by a drudge looking young girl, who was vaguely familiar. The scent of the food, a rich beef stew with floating chunks of vegetables, distracted her from the girl. She eyed the pot, casting wary glances a the death eater across the table.
“Give Miss Prewett an extra helping. She looks half starved.” Antonin put a linen napkin on his lap and poured a goblet of red wine.
The girl scooped out a large helping of stew for each of them and stood back watching the man.
Antonin sipped his wine, savored it, stirred his bowl and motioned to Molly, who was alternately glaring at him and drooling over the thick soup.
“I don't trust you.” She said.
“And so you should not. I have only my own self satisfaction, and the Dark Lord's orders, as my priorities. My plans for you are wretched and evil, but do you really have any other choice?”
“I could . . . .” Molly stopped and blinked, trying to imagine her options. “I could refuse.”
Antonin's laugh was so abrupt and loud that the girl jumped back and he glanced at her before leaning forward and smiling at the red-haired woman. “Refuse? Oh, Molly Prewett. This will definitely be fun.” He leaned back. “You!” he snapped at the drudge who began to quake in fear. “Take this and feed your fellow slaves. I'm feeling generous, so those others can go fend for themselves in town.”
The girl grabbed the pot and scurried out of the room. Molly felt her absence as the loss of the only buffer she had against the man.
“You could refuse . . . refuse to eat, refuse to sleep, but there is nothing else. If you don't eat, you'll be weaker to fight me. If you don't sleep, you won't be able to focus on your little escape plans. So, I doubt you will refuse me. Now, eat. Build your strength so that your struggles will be meaningful.” He picked up his spoon and took a big bite.
Molly crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
Antonin put down his spoon, took another sip of his wine, then put the cup down and glared at her. “I said eat. Eat!” he shouted and Molly jumped, dropping into the chair and grabbing the first thing she could, a piece of bread that sat on a plate near her bowl.
They ate in silence, other than the sounds of silver against china, an occasional swallow and the man clearing his throat. He didn't speak again until her bowl was empty and all of the bread gone.
“Now, let's see how well you fight.” he said, standing and towering over her. He pulled her to her feet and lifted her by her waist until her toes dangled off of the floor, grinning at her the whole time. “You can begin any time you'd like.” He said before he captured her mouth with his and nearly suffocated her with a powerful kiss.
She kicked and punched, fought and cried out, but his superior strength, coupled with her months of poor food, little sleep and filthy living conditions had left her with very little stamina, and he soon had her naked, spread across his bed and crushed beneath him.
He entered her roughly, pounding into her sore body and holding her arms over her head so that she couldn't even push him up enough to ease her breathing. She labored for air and tried to distance herself from the room where she was being raped.
Relief came when Antonin Dolohov climaxed and fell onto her, panting and sweating, but relaxed and smiling at her. He lifted himself up so that his weight was supported by her pelvis and he smirked. She glared in response and he chuckled at it. “Yes, this will be fun Molly Prewett.”
“My name is Weasley.” she growled out.
“Not any more. The Dark Lord has canceled any marriages that he does not condone. Right now, there are a lot of witches and wizards who are finding themselves freed from former commitments, released from unhappy bondings and available for new situations. You are among the latter. Now, I've got business to attend to, so get some sleep.” He climbed off of her, grabbed his wand and waved it at the bed. The curtains closed, leaving the woman naked, sweaty and filled with his semen. The curtains constituted a barrier around the bed that she couldn't get through so she fell back and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Molly had been Dolohov's plaything for nearly a month before the first girl arrived. Tracey Davis was dropped off by Yaxley and Rabastan LeStrange and Antonin showed her to a room near the wing where his women where housed.
“You will stay here, until you are retrieved by one of my mudblood slaves. I will send for you at meals, or when I think you need to exercise. Until then, you will not venture out of this room. If you need something, ask one of the women that will be in charge of you. Do you understand?”
Tracey nodded and watched as he sauntered around her room, showing her what was available.
“These are your clothes. The dressier stuff if for when I entertain. I'll make sure it is tailored for you, as you progress. When your child is born, we will decide which room to make yours and which to make the nursery. This will be needed for another girl, by then. Take a bath, if you like. Dinner won't be for several hours. And, welcome.”
He left her and she did some exploring, checking out the bathroom, the closet, which had only two dress robes and a collection of simple shifts. She went out on the terrace, where she found the wards had been placed to keep her from leaving or anything from entering. Not even an owl could find her here. Not that she would be corresponding with anyone, or they with her. She sat on a lounge near the rail and thought about Neville.
Her hand traced the soft rise that stretched her robes, a tell-tale sign of her condition, and hummed a song she remembered her mother singing to her. This cell was bigger, but she was still a prisoner, and now she was all alone, until her child joined her in her captivity.

They had been safe in the cabin for months, and their stores were holding up, but his mother's cravings were becoming more difficult to manage, so Draco had traded his dragon-hide for muggle trainers and jeans, slipped his mother's wand into a jacket sleeve and ventured into Pleven, a reasonably large, muggle city in Northern Bulgaria, to find cashews, oysters and grapefruits.
Once his purchases were made, packed up and shrunk when no one was looking, Draco wandered the streets, nodded to passers-by, browsing in windows and taking in the sights, smells and feel of the city. There was a small wizard community here, hidden behind a pharmaceutical store, where Draco stopped for a bit of food and a cup of tea, but he knew he had to be careful and cast a notice-me-not spell over his table as he ate. Here, in the patio dining area, he could watch the streets, guard for the arrival of Punishers, the new name that had been given to the Snatchers, who were now sent out to find the escapees from the war, such as his family.
As he watched, a familiar face came into view and he nearly called out. The crowd parted, just as Viktor Krum and, Draco presumed, his family, came into view. He looked the same as he had fourth year, not much taller, and still cloaked in that thick fur-lined cape that Draco remembered so well. He had noticed a lot about the man, from the time they had spent sharing a table at Hogwarts, and now it all flooded back.
Draco had developed quite a crush on the burly Durmstranger, especially after watching him dancing with Granger at the Yule Ball, and seeing all the girls that flocked after him, wherever he went. It was a forbidden fruit kind of crush, and he'd never gotten over it. Now, seeing the man, so close, yet so unobtainable, made the yearning return.
Once he had seen his old crush, he couldn't just walk away and forget, so he downed his tea and strode off after the group. They led him to an apothecaries, luckily for him, since the family needed some potions for their stores, and some ingredients to brew the ones that were not sold in completed form, and while he watched them, he gathered his purchases. He was just heading for the counter, when the Krum Matriarch plopped her chosen vials onto the counter and turned to Viktor.
“We will be at the robe-makers, you will meet us when it is time to return. Do not venture too far, and keep your wand handy. Do you understand, Viktor?” she said in a hiss.
“Yes, I do. I am not allowed to go to the robe-makers, this I understand.” Viktor responded and Draco was glad he had studied Bulgarian in his youth, so that the words were not mangled or misunderstood. He waited while the woman left, put his supplies on the counter and released his spell. Viktor jumped when he saw the blond-turned-ginger. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“You might. It depends on your loyalties.” Draco answered in perfect Bulgarian.
“Your name?”
“I am called Lars. Lars Rheinegan.” he said.
“Doesn't fit you. You look more like . . . . English, yes?”
Draco laughed despite himself. He paid the alchemist and shrunk his box of jars and vials, with the cauldron he bought on top of it, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. When he slid the wand back into his sleeve, Viktor was staring at it.
“That is not a Gregorovitch wand. You are English. If you wish to hide, you should buy a better wand.”
“That's not possible,” Draco hissed, turning and rushing out of the door, Viktor close on his heels. They stopped when Draco turned on him, wand out, in a darker alleyway. “If I walked into a wand shop, trying to buy a local wand, I'd give myself away. My family . . . it's a risk, I can't take.”
“Not a wand shop. I know a place. Come, I've got time to kill, I will show you.” Viktor ignored Draco's wand, took him by the sleeve and pulled him to the end of the alley, around the corner and several streets away. They had returned to the Muggle city, but Viktor was nonplussed. He merely led Draco into a glass-fronted shop, where used bits of this and that sat on dusty shelves and tables. He meandered the aisles, picking up a couple of things, putting them down or turning them in his hands, before he pushed Draco toward a shelf where several boxes, long and slender, with ancient runes, sat.
“What is this place?” Draco asked.
“Second-hand shop. I noticed the wands last time I was here. They are Gregorovitch, the markings show it. The owner thinks they are just curio boxes. Spell keeps Muggles from seeing inside. He wants a great deal, but not as much as you would pay at a wand shop. You want them, or not?” Viktor was examining a tankard with a forest scene that looked a great deal like their family cabin, and ignoring the wands and the English wizard, otherwise.
“I want them. We only have this one. There are three of us, soon to be four. How do I know I can trust you?”
“What benefit would I have from turning you in? I only want to help. I remember you, Lars. I remember you, Dragon.” Viktor looked up and smiled at Draco and his face was softer and smaller than Draco remembered.
“So, I'm going to buy the wands.” Draco sidled away, picked up the three boxes, opened them one at a time to assure himself that the wands were inside, and took them to the clerk. He paid out his money, half by conversion than he would have expected to pay, and let the man put them into a paper sack with a twine handle. He carried it out, followed by the Bulgarian Seeker, and walked to a safe place around the corner.
Behind a dumpster, he opened the boxes again, touched each wand and felt their magic. The second wand, a black oak, 16”, with a hippogryph tail core, warmed to his touch and suffused him with a sense of longing. Longing to do magic as it was made to do, but waited so patiently for the chance. He looked up at the other wizard, who was reciting the details of each wand as Draco touched them. “How do you know these things?”
“Gregorovitch was my great uncle. He wanted me to train in his shop. He was killed by your Dark Lord, just before the great battle.”
“Not Mine. I renounced him, when I came here. I will not follow that man, that liar and murderer. I only took the mark to save my family.”
“Yes, as many have done. But, taking a mark, and becoming evil, are two very different things.:” Viktor put the lid back on the other wands, slid them carefully into the bag and shrank them for Draco, then he stood and looked around the side of the dumpster. “I must go, Lars. Will you come to Pleven again, soon?”
“I don't know. Maybe.”
“I come here every month. For three days. I will be back. I would enjoy speaking with you, then.”
“I could arrange it. Where do you stay?”
“A little Inn, the Boar's Keep. On the first day of full moon. Pleven is not far from my home, and my family lets me come alone.”
“Where do you live?” Draco wondered why he kept asking these question, especially when he could not reciprocate with answers of his own.
“Our family home is in Veliko. Not far. Will you come?”
“It's a good likelihood. The Boar's Keep. Full moon. I'll remember.”
“Goodbye, then. Dragon.” Viktor stood directly in front of him, handing him the shrunken wands, and Draco could smell his scent. Before he could react, the Bulgarian kissed his cheek and apparated away.
“Well, shite. That was bloody brilliant.”

Ginny stared at the ceiling, watching a small brown spider making a web across the corner with graceful, elegant movements. She imagined herself spinning and weaving something so beautiful and intricate.
The rhythmic thump of the headboard against the wall reminded her of the sounds that had come from one of the other cells, when she was held deep within the Ministry halls. She never knew who, or what, had been drumming in the dark, but now it comforted her.
She had come to hate this house, familiar as it was, in the six months she had lived here. Without a wand, or decent clothes, she was nearly as much a prisoner as before.
Amycus grunted in her ear, signaling the approach of his climax, and dragging her back from her thoughts. She didn't dare close her eyes, knowing the reaction that would cause, so she blurred her focus as he rose up and sneered down at her.
“My pretty ginger whore.” he called her. “My little cum hole. The Dark Lord was very generous when he gifted you to me. Oh, yes. Oh, take it, Whore. Take my seed!”
Ginny did her best to ignore the man, his monthly visits were a chore, but lasted only a couple of days, and then she was as free as she could be, here in Grimmauld Place, alone in the big Black house, where Harry and she were supposed to live, one day.
The problem was, soon Amycus would notice the difference in Ginny and she would have to find a way to escape. It was getting harder to fool him, and her first instinct was to protect, to hide what had happened from the man.
The next day, just before he left, he pulled out his wand and waved it in the same gesture he regularly used. He always left her with just enough food, just enough money, to last for the month, but this looked like much more. “I've got to stay away for a bit longer. I won't be back for a few months, so take care not to waste this. My wife is giving birth, and I'll need to be with her. Got to make sure she doesn't harm the babe, or herself. So, take care, until I get back.”
Ginny nearly smiled at the man, just catching herself in time. “I'll manage.”
“Buy a new dress with that. I want to see you all prettied up, when I come back. I'll need it after dealing with the shrew for three months. I always look forward to my pretty ginger whore. Bye, now.” and he was gone, all his growing bulk and warts, out of the door and down Grimmauld Place, past the street lamp and gone with a crack of apparation.
Ginny laughed. It was the most wonderful bit of luck, and such fortuitous timing. She ran up stairs, not bothering with the things on the table for now, and into the room where Amycus never went. Here, she had gathered all the things from the attic and cellar and arranged them carefully around the room. The cot was old, but she had cleaned it and repaired the coverlets and ruffles until it looked like an heirloom. Her mother hadn't had anything so nice with she was born.
When she stopped at the far end of the room, she pulled the tunic over her head and closed her eyes, willing the magic to work. She opened her eyes to find a full-length mirror and her reflection showed what she had been hiding. Her belly protruded so far that it had nearly torn the shift she wore, until she had discovered that she had an inate ability for wandless, wordless magic. Just enough to protect her baby, and herself, but not enough to go out into the new world and find a safe place.
In two months, when her child was born, she would ward the room, put up silencing charms, and keep him secret from the man that gave him to her. She refused to call Amycus her child's father, he was just a rapist who's seed had impregnated her. He would not know about her baby and neither would Voldemort.

The beach ended at the edge of a cleared field, cultivated and growing tall stalks of wheat. Harry crossed the field and found the farmhouse, but he didn't find any farmer or family when he climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. The door creaked open and he entered, walking across the room to the kitchen and out to what should have been the backyard. Instead, he found a town. A metropolis. A city the size of London.
The city was different from London in the fact that it was clean, quiet and peaceful. The people that milled about the streets were calm and pleasant, friendly and helpful.
Harry thought he should be happy to be here, but he was not. It was too quiet, too clean and too peaceful. The first person he spoke with was a red-haired elderly woman, who only resembled Molly Weasley by these qualities. She gave him direction to the best place to get information, but had no other interest in him or his needs. He had no problem walking away from her.
The building where she had sent him was a small rectangular box with a simple sign out front saying, “New Residents and Exceptions” in bold red letters. He entered and stepped up to the counter where an attractive blonde sat with a quill and a pencil. “Excuse me.” he said.
“What is your exception?” she asked without looking up.
“My what?”
“Your exception? The reason you think you should be allowed to become a ghost or a zombie? What's so special about your case?”
“I don't know. What is a regular case?” Harry watched her look up and her glare turned to a wide-eyed stare. “Did I say something wrong?”
“It's you! You're very late. Just stay here.” She stood up and fled the room through a back door. Harry didn't like the way she had said that, so he turned around and left the way he had come. On the street, he noticed a group of people dressed the same odd way that was regular to the wizards he remembered. He hurried after them and only caught up after five or six blocks.
The men, two of them, and one woman went into a building that looked a tiny bit like Grimmauld Place. He climbed the steps and knocked loudly on the door.
After a short wait, the door opened a crack and a red-haired man with sharp features and familiar eyes glared at him. “Who are you?”
“My name is Harry.”
“Harry? I don't know any Harrys. Hey, do any of you know a Harry?” he called over his shoulder and the door flew from his hands.
“Harry!” he was pulled inside just as he recognized his godfather and a boy from his house at Hogwarts.
“Sirius? Collin? What?”
“Get in here. When did you arrive? Where have you been?”
“I'm just come to the city today. There was a desert, a forest, a beach, oh lot's of places.”
“You took the scenic route, huh? Have you been to Exceptions?”
“”New Residents and Exceptions? I just went. She acted odd, so I left.”
“You left? Oh, ho! Only my godson would walk out of Exceptions! Wait, let me get Fred. Fred! Fred! Come down here! It's Harry!” Thunderous footsteps came down the stairs and Harry turned to find Fred Weasley staring at him.
“Fred? How did you get here? You didn't die, did you?” Harry was shocked and only the redhead grabbing him and spinning him around brought him out of it. “Fred!”
“Harry? They said you died, I didn't want to believe it. It was a blow, but we kept fighting. Charlie, Remus and I were near a wall when they came through. Charlie made it, though. Voldemort is claiming victory.”
“He won? But, I did what I had to. I destroyed all of the horcruxes.”
“All but the snake, yeah. Neville got it, but no one else would fight Him. He's taken over and people are suffering.
“Hey, none of that. It's not Harry's problem anymore.” Sirius stood between them pushing Fred back and turning to Harry. “They'll be fine. There are measures taken to combat true evil and they'll step in soon. If you had stayed in Exceptions, they'd have told you.”
“You left Exceptions?” Fred said.
“He said she acted weird.” Collin injected.
“Never would have called it that. I thought she just hated her job and got bored easy.” Fred suggested.
“She seemed bored at first, but then she took one look at me and ran away. Said something about me being late.”
“We're all late. The late Harry Potter. Get it?” Sirius joked.
“It makes sense to me, since you died before the wall fell on me.”
“Yeah, Fred's been here for months.” Sirius added. “Collin came just after him, too.”
“I died in the courtyard. Yaxley diffendioed me.” the little blond was so animated that Harry smiled. “Have you seen Professor Lupin, yet?'
“Remus is here?” Harry asked his godfather. “Why isn't he with you?”
“Not because I didn't invite him. He's working at New Residents.”
“I thought that was the same place as Exceptions.”
“Same administration, but New Residents spends a lot of time watching Them. Remus can't stop watching his family.” Sirius said.
“Oh, I'd like to see him.”
“I'll get him to come. I can ask Cedric. You remember Cedric, don't you?” Fred said, “I'll get him down here. Just wait.”
“Cedric is here?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, it's odd how people kept showing up. Gideon moved in first, just after I found this house. Reminds you of number 12, doesn't it? It was empty when I came through the veil and I moved in. Now, people show up, say they're friends of yours or relatives or old friends of mine, and there's always a room ready for them. Cozy, right?”
“Like a house of requirements.” Harry suggested.
“Yeah.”
“Harry?” Cedric Diggory looked just like he had the last time Harry had seen him. He was shorter than Harry remembered, but that was only because Harry had grown. Collin laughed when the two stared at each other for several minutes in silence.
“You look good. Better than the last time I saw you.” Harry said and Cedric laughed.
“I'll bet. I vaguely remember asking you to take my body back to my dad. Did you?”
“Sure. It was a big shock to everyone, me showing up with a dead champion. How did you end up here?”
“I was told to come here. I had been staying in a dorm, down in the new arrival's section, and Maisy said if I waited, I would find a good place to stay in this house. I came here and found Gideon and Fabian Prewett living with Sirius Black, and they talked me into staying. They were friends of my fathers. I grew up down the road from their house.”
“Molly's brothers?” Harry asked.
“Yeah. So, how did you . . . .die?”
“Killing Curse, but Dumbledore said I could go back, if I wanted to. I don't know how I ended up here. I was supposed to go back and kill Him.”
“He needs to go back to Exceptions.” said the gruff man who had opened the door.
“Be quiet, Gideon.” Sirius snapped, “Maisy needs someone to stand up to her. You stand your ground, Harry.”
“But, if he has an assignment. . .”
“They never have assignments. I've been here for almost three years and I'm still waiting.”
“What's an assignment?” Harry asked.
“An exception to your death. This isn't the 'other side', Harry. This is a place in between. If you get an exception, you could go back as a ghost or a zombie, but most people just get stuck here. There are folks here that have been waiting for centuries. An assignment is the only way to go back as a living person. You have to fulfill a task when you go, though.”
“Then, my parents . . .”
“No, Lily and James went On. No exception. Their death was part of a prophesy, so they probably didn't even spend any time here.”
“Then, I need to talk to that lady . . . Maisy.”
“Well, she's just the clerk. You need to talk to Helga.” Cedric said.
“But, getting to see her . . .” Collin began.
“Next to impossible.” Fred finished with a smile to the smaller boy.
“I need to try. Could you come with me?”
“We'll all come, right Gideon?” Collin's enthusiasm was contagious and they were soon on their way to the office of New Residents and Exceptions. Gideon had even gotten his brother, Fabian to come with. Harry led the way, with his godfather at his side.
The office was not as empty as it had been, since there were four people there when they returned. Maisy was in her place, behind the counter, and the other three were standing behind her, arguing loudly. They stopped and looked at the group coming through the door.
“I have an exception.” Harry announced and the woman in the middle, a motherly looking woman with golden curls all over her head and a pair of reading glasses on the end of her nose, began to laugh.
“Of course, you do. And are these friends of yours?” she said as she motioned him toward the inner offices.
The face resembled the Tom she once knew, but Minerva was coherent enough to know it was only a glamour, she stood in the doorway and waited for him to direct her, knowing that he would have some task or order for her, soon enough. He didn't disappoint her, and waved her forward. “Come to me, Minnie. Remember when I looked like this? Remember what we were up to those days. Remember how Dumbledore scowled at us both?”
“I have outgrown those foolish days, Tom.” Minerva said as she slowly advanced on the dark wizard. “I wonder have you?”
“Never. I still love to get up to mischief. You should know that, Minnie. I've just come from Trafalgar Square. Do you know what I did there?” Tom reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer and into his lap. “I've transfigured a statue to look like me, just as I look to everyone now. Isn't that exciting. Muggles stop and stare at it, shiver and shake their heads. It's such fun.”
“And that's your entertainment? Scaring muggles with your likeness?”
“No, that's me easing them into my rule. They'll become accustomed to my face and they won't be so surprised when I take over their world as well as the wizarding one. Now, about us. . . .”
“There hasn't been an us for . . .”
“For too long. I want to change that. You and I will be as we were before you left me.”
“I didn't leave you, Tom. I left school, while you were still a student, but I didn't leave you. I was waiting for you, and you never came.” This was not what she planned to say, but the hurt bubbled up from the past and forced her words. “You left me, Tom. You went off to become a dark wizard and abandoned me and . . . me.”
“I came to you. I came five years after we had said goodbye and you were not living at your home. I looked for you and asked everyone. Where did you go, Minnie?”
“Five years? Tom, not a word did I hear from you. Not one owl. Not a fire call. Not even a message from one of your friends. I waited for as long as I could. I took an apprenticeship and moved away.”
“Well, that's all over now. We're together and we can just begin where we left off. No problem. I'm going to make it up to you. I've planned a special ceremony.” Tom lifted her to her feet and stood, taking her hand and leading her across the room. When they arrived at the balcony, he pulled a chair up to the rail and sat her in it. “Now, observe the garden.”
Minerva looked over the edge of the balcony and into the greenery. There, among the roses, were four of the most favored death eaters with several young people. Yaxley held Neville, while Bellatrix held Hermione and Luna, Rabastan held Oliver Wood, and Greyback held young Dennis Creevey. She shuddered when she considered what was about to happen. “What are you going to do, Tom?” she asked.
“I am going to propose. Minerva Grace McGonagall, daughter of the house McGonagall, will you marry me and be my partner and wife? Will you share my family, be my mate and my spouse?” He turned, nodded and the four wizards raised their wands and aimed them at their respective captives. “Or, will you turn me down and cause me to do damage to these fine young ones who have been part of your little Gryffindor family?”
“You monster. You dare to make this a proposal when you've already fixed it so that I can only answer one way. How could I possibly say no, when these children will suffer if I do? I've already vowed to stay here and not fight you after what you did to that poor boy, and now you want this.”
“So, your answer is?”
“Yes, Tom. Yes, of course, I'll marry you. Now, let them be. Please?”
“Oh, I'll do better. You choose one of them, any one, and I'll release that one.”
“How can I . . .:”
“Choose quickly, before I change my mind.”
“Fine. Luna. Luna Lovegood. Release her.” Minerva knew that the children from her house were brave enough to endure, but she wasn't sure about the little blonde Ravenclaw girl.
“There, now. Not so hard. Bella! Let the little blonde go. She's to be allowed complete freedom. Minerva chose her. Go little bird. You're free. The rest of you return to your rooms.”
Minerva watched them for a brief moment before Tom pulled her up into his arms and into a passionate kiss. Hard as she tried, her body responded to the remembered embrace and his glamoured face. She found herself returning the kiss, and enjoying it. Her mind curdled against this, but there was nothing to be done. She relented and let him do as he pleased, hoping it would ease the life of her young lions a bit.
Tracey gave birth to a beautiful dark haired little girl and she was allowed to name her Lavinia Davis Longbottom. The other girls, Marietta, who was three months along with Seamus' child, and Alicia, who was showing with another of the Irishman's get, were helpful and doting on the tyke, but Voldemort was furious. She was moved, without her baby, to a small closet in the cellar and kept there without human contact for several days. Food was brought by elves and it was a meager fare.
TBC . . .
delia cerrano: I don't understand what you mean, but I'm fine with it.
Sara: Just wait for it, I promise, it'll be worth it.
Moodysavage: Yes, Harry will be back and deal with all of the changes that have occurred. He'll deal with his guilt, too.
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365 Days (1 year)