The Upper Hand

Dark shadows danced around her as she walked through the empty corridors. They hid behind pillars, agitated by the echo of her footsteps, watching, always watching. She pulled her bundle closer to her chest and tipped her face down toward it as she continued on, her steps quickening. Her breath came rapidly, spurred on by fear and uncertainty, and it too danced around her in the echoes of the corridor. Whispering, watching, whispering, watching...

She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears of raw panic that were making their way out and began to jog. She remembered the last time she was here at night. Walked down this corridor the first time free of care, innocent and unknowing. Walked down it the second time ashamed, used, jaded...ashamed. Ashamed! Walked down it now, her third time, driven on by nothing but fierce love for one and pure hate for the one who had shamed her...used her.

She reached the door at the end of the hall. It was a massive door, ebony, with intricate carvings of family crests and mixed bloodlines scrawled down its front. She stood for a moment, numbing herself, tracing with a shaking finger along the ridges and indentations. Then she closed her eyes and felt the tiny heartbeat against her own, and it instilled her with new courage. She raised her hand away from the door...and knocked.

***

The dark man working at his desk didn´t acknowledge the knock at first. Then his head snapped up irritably as it persisted. He threw down his quill impatiently and stood, his chair scraping against the floor.

"Who is it?" he snapped at the door. Silence. "Come now, you´ll not disturb me from my work--which I daresay is much more important than whatever you´ve come seeking after--and then waste my time?" Still no response. Then a thought dawned on him. "I do not donate money to any cause, no matter how noble. This family does not meddle in politics. Sorry to disappoint you, but I suggest you leave by whatever godforsaken way you got in."

He was about to sit back down, thoroughly annoyed, when it came again...that soft, timid knocking.

His patience, abridged by several drinks, reached the breaking point. He reached the door in two, long, angry strides, wrenched the knob, and threw it open. Then he blinked.

A young, beautiful girl stood at the threshold. She was looking at him with deep, dark eyes, full of recognition. But he didn´t recognize her at all. Did he...?

"What is it, miss?" he hissed. "I don´t have time for petty begging, if that´s what you´re here for. I don´t know how you got in, but-"

"You don´t remember me?" she whispered, her voice sharp with edges of loathing.

He stared for a long moment... then he remembered. That voice...filled with fear and pain, calling his name...his mouth curled into a smile. Ah yes. He remembered her well.

"That´s right," she whispered softer still, her voice quivering with disgust at his expression. "But there´s something-someone-you didn´t bargain on."

He watched, panic mounting as she partially unwrapped the bundle in her arms. He hadn´t noticed that bundle before...it couldn´t be...oh God no...

"Congratulations," she sobbed, thrusting the tiny, sleeping baby into his arms. He stared down at it with disgust. No. No. NO! He couldn´t have a baby...not now...NOT WITH HER! It was a mudblood baby...filth! What would his master think?

He paled.

What would his master DO? His mind raced, rationalized, analyzed. He couldn´t allow this...no. This couldn´t be. There was no way to explain away a situation like this...all that was left to do for his benefit was to dispose of it. Dispose of any evidence. That was what he´d do...no problem. He´d done things like this before.

Pity this had to happen, though, he thought. She was such a pretty girl.

"Take your baby," he snarled, dropping the baby back into her hands so harshly that it woke with a start and began to cry. "You may stay here the night...I will decide what to do with-about this in the morning. Come with me."

***

He led her back down the corridor. She hurried to keep up with his long stride...must be a family trait, she thought painfully...and tried to quiet her child at the same time.

He led her down several different corridors and up a few staircases, never slowing, never speaking. Finally, after an eternity of walking, he abruptly stopped before another door like the one to his own chambers. He pulled a key from his robes and unlocked it. Then he pushed it open, gesturing her to step inside.

She had never actually been in this room before, but she knew it. She could feel whose room this was. She stifled a sob and cried out to him with her mind: I´m sorry! I´m so sorry... She heard the door swing shut behind her, and then...a key in the lock.

She sniffed, laying the baby down on the pillows of the bed. Her breath sounded oddly loud and echoed in this room. She let a few tears slide down her cheeks and she bent down to undo her shoelaces...then she stopped. Realized.

Hers wasn´t the only breath in the room.

She whipped around; he was still standing there. He breathed raggedly, his wand arm raised. His wand...pointed straight at her. She gasped and stared, wide eyed. His eyes were dark, maniac, and his expression livid.

She had only a moment to comprehend his intentions before they were upon her. Words uttered softly from those lips...soft words that wrapped their power around her, comforting her, relaxing her, all in the moment before the burst of emerald light.

In that last breath...that whisper of a second...before her soul slipped away... in that fragment of a moment when her body collapsed to the floor, she heard a sound.

The door burst open.