Iuga Sortis II

Fourteen

The sound of a shattering glass echoed throughout the chamber, the white liquid meandering down the stone wall in lazy drips. Chairs turned over, papers strewn everywhere, ornaments broken--it was as if a hurricane ripped through the room. The "eye" of it looked around wildly, his body shaking madly from rage and exhaustion.

There was nothing else to destroy.

He whimpered pathetically and fell to his knees, bending over to place his elbows on the floor. He laid his head on his arms and cried.

"Malika . . . Malika, I'm so sorry . . ."

Two hours ago Dumbledore explained everything to him, or rather showed him a memory.

His memory.

He winced and moaned at the memory of her naked and bound to that gurney with all those Death Eaters there, staring at her, lusting after her, frustrated they couldn't have her.

But what really got him were her eyes.

Those golden eyes, usually filled with love for him were full of nothingness--dead. He killed her spirit that night, and he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself, despite Dumbledore's orders to do so.

Easier said than done.

So what if it was done for the greater good? He had to betray the one woman he loved because Fate said so.

As far as he was concerned, Fate could've fucked herself.

He groaned and began to crawl towards the back of the couch, and he leaned his back against it. It was the one thing in the room not in disarray, and for that he was grateful. Never had he felt so tired, so alone, so unwanted.

"Nia . . ."

She wasn't speaking to him at the moment, well, actually the entire term.

Has it really been that long?

Apparently it had. From the first week to September to the third week of December, barely five words had been exchanged, and at least one of them happened in class.

Oua 0lqom

She called him a rapist.

He'd forgotten he had a working knowledge of Ancient Egyptian language, but that word came crashing down on him as soon as she said it.

It was the same word Malika called him when she first realized what he was about to do. It became a rapier and sliced his heart with each thrust Johnson made. Not full out stabs, for that would be a quick and easy death, but slow, tiny cuts that dripped his anguish and sorrow until his insides became a reservoir of grief.

He was sure Malika had an entire ocean of it.

The fact the group had a mirror for her to watch was beyond sick, but he could at least be grateful no one was allowed to touch her.

After all, she was supposed to be producing a new heir for the Dark Lord.

Yeah, right.

Malika could no more conceive the spawn of evil than he could, and Dumbledore told him to find comfort in that knowledge.

But it concerned the woman he loved, and the daughter who should've been his.

Instead Nia was Johnson's, the unfortunate bloke who had to actually do the deed. He didn't know which position was worse--being in his shoes or being in Johnson's. He snorted and shook his head.

My position was definitely worse.

At least Johnson's touches could have put her mind somewhat at ease, but all he could do was sit there and watch her die over and over again. The Death Eaters weren't allowed to move, weren't allowed to touch the "vessel of the cause." To do so would bring Voldemort's wrath, and the general consensus was an ambiguously dead Voldemort was far more terrifying than a definitely live one. But he could feel the lecherous thoughts about Malika, especially Avery's. The racist pig lusted after his Malika so much it was all he could do not to draw his wand and AK him out the room. But as he rubbed the myrrh onto her body, he remembered something else, something he wished he never forgot.

0nxth

She had compassion for him.

The revelation astounded him and made him grieve all the more.

There she was, subjected to the most heinous of violations of her person, and she had compassion for him?

She was always such an easy person for him to read and vice versa.

Malika was not a Legilimens by any means, but to her, he'd always been an open book. He tried not to make eye contact with her, but he realized eye contact was not necessary where she was concerned. But his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to hers as he ran his hands reverently over her body. Her flesh quivered under his touch, and it was all he could do not to throw his head on her chest and weep for forgiveness. But he had to be strong; he had to act like she was just another darkie bitch who, oddly enough, was the key to Voldemort's return and immortal rule. The feelings of betrayal were there the entire time, but her compassion for him far outweighed anything she was feeling, and that humbled him and made him hate himself even more.

All the other Death Eaters cheered with each audible proof of suffering she made, but for him he withered. For him there was no reason to cheer. He cursed himself for being weak, for not saying no when Dumbledore proposed this plan. Johnson and Malika had no idea beforehand; they went in cold. It was not like the Order to keep secrets from one another, but in order for the deception to work, only a few could know the details.

He hated keeping Malika in the dark.

He hated being the reason she was in the gurney in the first place.

Most of all he hated there was no other way.

Why did Nia have to be born from chaos and despair? Why couldn't Malika have a child born of love not of deception?

Why couldn't I be the father of her child?

Johnson didn't understand the gift he received that night; he still didn't in a way. Johnson already met the woman of his dreams, already had a daughter by her, and yet had to betray his wife in order to produce an heiress who would save the world.

He rolled his eyes. This plot sounded like something from a bad Muggle movie.

It's bad all right; just that it's my life.

He remembered the half regretful, half justified look Dumbledore gave him as he returned the memories. Never had he felt such hatred toward the older man. It wasn't as if Dumbledore drugged him as he drugged Johnson. Dumbledore appealed to his darker sensibilities.

Blackmail.

He chuckled hollowly. This would not have been the first time he'd thought Dumbledore was actually a Slytherin in disguise.

Dumbledore knew he'd never agree to do such a thing willingly, especially after turning spy for the Order. But Dumbledore also knew he'd do anything to stay out of Azkaban.

Never let it be said Dumbledore didn't know how to get what he wanted.

Azkaban meant no Malika, and no Malika was unacceptable. He'd tried two years to live without her, and he ended up a Death Eater; if that wasn't indication enough of how miserable he'd be without her, he didn't know what was. Of course he knew kidnapping Malika and forcing her into a baby machine wouldn't bode well for a chance at reconciliation, but it was far easier to explain things in person than behind bars guarded by Dementors. He sighed, depressed.

Back at square one . . .

He could feel a migraine coming.

"Stop wallowing, Snivellus. It's highly unbecoming of you."

And it speaks.

"Go away, Black. I'm in no mood to hear your gloating."

The other man snorted humorlessly. "Would you believe I'm in no mood to hear it either? I came to help."

Severus snapped his head up, amazingly sure he was in a bad dream.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?"

Sirius chuckled at Severus's disbelief. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. Would it make you feel better to know I'm not doing this for you?"

"Much."

"Believe me, if helping that little girl meant not helping you, I'd be all for it, but it doesn't. I have to help you before Nia has any hope of becoming better."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the man. "What do you mean?"

Sirius smirked. "You're not blind, and as stupid as you look, you're not even that daft."

Severus's defenses went up immediately. "What's your point, Black?"

"Nia is to you what Harry is to me--an opportunity to set things right."

"Set things right?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Maybe you are as dumb as you look. If that's the case, Crabbe is a Merlin compared to you . . ."

"If you're here to insult me, you can find whatever grave you crawled out of and make camp there."

"Need I remind you you're the one who brought me back?"

"I can surely rectify the situation if need be."

Sirius merely shook his head. "Snivellus, Snivellus, Snivellus . . ."

"Black the Whack."

Sirius chuckled. "You haven't called me that in years."

"Well, this Christmas seems to be one of memories . . ."

To his surprise, Sirius took a seat next to him and leaned his own back and head against the couch. Neither man said anything for a while.

"It was you. It had always been you . . ."

Severus looked at the man beside him. Sirius's eyes were closed, and his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He knew whom Sirius's was talking about, but he wanted to hear confirmation.

"Who?"

A corner of the man's mouth lifted. "Leka. Even when we began dating, it had always been you. I hated you even more because of that."

Severus felt his blood boil at the mention of Malika and Sirius's two and a half year courtship.

"Why are you telling me this, Black?"

"So you can understand . . . it took me almost ten years to figure it out . . ."

"Figure out what, Black?"

"Christmas . . . James and Lily only had one with their son . . . I remember it like it was yesterday."

Severus wondered briefly what this had to do with anything, but he kept his mouth closed.

"Harry was five months old, barely able to lift his head, but oh he was a handsome devil; looked just like his daddy but had eyes like his mum . . . I'd never seen James so happy as he was with his wife and son, and I wanted to have the same."

Severus gave an impatient sigh, and Sirius glared at him.

"Continue," Severus said dryly.

Sirius cast him another dark look before doing so. "Remus couldn't make it because there was a full moon during the beginning of the week, so he was coming for New Year's. Malika came with me, and we spent that holiday at Godric's Hollow. Oh, we had a grand old time; Malika and Lily sang Muggle Christmas carols as they baked cookies and Christmas dinner--Malika made candied yams to die for . . ."

Severus snickered. That was a favorite dish of his that Malika made often.

"James and I alternated between having snowball fights and fixing Christmas decorations. Lily dared us to do it the Muggle way . . . needless to say, we lost badly."

"That's a shocker."

"Do you mind?"

"Yes, but I have a feeling you'll continue your story regardless."

Sirius sighed. "I'm trying to provide you with some insight . . ."

"Could you be quick about it then? I have wallowing to get to."

"Pathetic wanker."

"Pitiful butt sniffer."

The men looked at each other before succumbing to laughter.

"Dumbledore was right--we do act like children!"

"I have a nasty habit of coming down to my opponent's level. With you, it's that of a three year old."

"There you go again, Snape."

"Bygones."

Sirius sighed and began to speak again. "Finally we gave up and put up the decorations magically, a far faster and convenient method if I do say so myself. We walked inside, and Lily was nowhere to be found, but Malika was sitting in a rocking chair, cooing and holding Harry."

"I'll bet she was beautiful," Snape said with a soft smile on his face.

A dreamy look fell upon Sirius's face. "She most definitely was. Harry was completely taken with her, in fact. That was one happy baby boy--Lil and James as his parents, then Leka and I as his godparents. I won't lie; seeing Malika all maternal made me yearn for little Blacks of my own . . ." Sirius looked at Severus pointedly, and he chuckled.

"A sarcastic comment would've fit nicely here, but even I won't be that crass," Snape promised.

Sirius turned his eyes back to the wall before them. "James went upstairs to ask Lily a question, and I kneeled at Leka's side as she rocked Harry gently. By this time, Leka was humming a tune--"

"This Little Light of Mine, most likely; she always sang it to Nia when she was being particularly fussy," Snape interrupted.

Sirius seemed impressed. "Right you are, Snape. I loved hearing Malika sing; it was so soothing and clear as a bell. Harry clearly enjoyed it as well for he was sleeping so soundly. I kissed little Harry's head, and she smiled at me. She asked me if I wanted children."

"Dear Merlin . . ."

Sirius chuckled at the comment. "I know. Up until then, the thought of me being anyone's father filled me with a sense of dread, but seeing Malika with Harry filled me with excitement, anticipation. I answered yes, and her smile widened. I couldn't help myself; I had to kiss her."

Severus scowled at the thought of Malika kissing another man, especially Sirius Black.

"I thought the kiss was a bit hesitant, as if she held back. I pulled away from her and ran the back of my hand against her cheek. I knew women her age would feel maternal as well, so I jokingly asked her if she was jealous. She said yes."

Severus frowned. "Jealous? Jealous of what?"

Sirius gave him an incredulous look but continued his story. "She said Lily was lucky because she and James were able to have a child together. Malika didn't think she would have the luxury of having a child by the man she loved."

Severus heard the bitterness in his voice. "Black . . ."

He shrugged. "I could've been the most romantic bloke in the world, but she still loved your ugly mug more. I often wondered if those eyes of hers were defective."

Severus snorted. "I'm sure you weren't the only one who did. I'll admit I wondered myself."

"But hers were only for you, and as she looked at baby Harry, I knew she was envisioning holding your child; not mine and definitely not Johnson's. When she said she wouldn't have the same luxury as Lily, my body went cold. I knew she had top marks in Divination, but so did I, and I definitely made up some catastrophes during my time at Hogwarts . . . but when Malika spoke, it usually came true."

"I swear to Merlin, Black, if I could've done anything else . . ."

"I know. If I remained Secret-Keeper . . ."

Severus nodded; he knew that fact all too well.

"Unfortunately, we can't live in what ifs," Sirius muttered.

"Yes, you can. I'm sure you remember a certain episode with a certain time-turner featuring a certain hippogriff . . ."

Sirius snickered. "Buckbeak must be mighty hungry . . . I hope someone's feeding him."

"Can't have the poor thing dying, now can we?" Snape said dryly.

Sirius laughed at the sarcasm. "He kept me sane during my house arrest."

Severus kept his mouth shut--making a comment about that would've been too easy.

The men were sharing an easy silence when Sirius chuckled. "I remember Lil and Leka talking about kids when Lil was pregnant, having fantasies about their kids being the best of friends and possibly even getting married."

Severus snickered. "Harry and Nia hate each other."

"That's the best way to fall in love . . . from hate . . ."

Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow at the other man. "Don't get any ideas, Black."

"In your dreams, Snivellus."

"Don't you mean nightmares?"

Sirius laughed a haughty laugh. "I may be close to forty, but I'm still the hottest guy on two legs here . . ."

"Don't you mean four?"

Sirius smiled. "Better than none; your kind slithers around like the snakes you are . . ."

"Snakes are quick and lethal. Dogs are loud and clumsy."

"Yet which would ladies want to pet?"

Severus smirked. "Malika liked snakes."

"There were many times she rubbed my head when I laid it in her lap . . ."

Severus's lip curled in disgust.

Sirius let out a contented sigh at the memory. "Malika Javier Roberts . . ."

"Snape," Severus added.

Sirius looked to the heavens in annoyance, and Severus grinned. "Snape. Though I think Malika Javier Roberts Black sounds even better."

"That's what you get for thinking. A rare occurrence, I'm sure . . ."

"There you go with the insults again, Snivellus."

"Pot, kettle."

"I'm surprised you didn't make a joke about them being black and my last name being Black."

"The obviousness of the situation did not need my commentary."

Sirius made a face, and Severus chuckled.

"I remember talking to James once, about Malika and me. He warned me, as he always did, but he warned me I could never reach her the way you did. I laughed him off, thinking what a ludicrous thing to say! I mean, I'm handsome, charming, clever--everything a girl in her right mind would want in a mate, in a husband. Malika was definitely in her right mind, and she was everything a man in his right mind would want--strong, independent, smart, outgoing, beautiful--so very beautiful--humble, compassionate . . ."

"She was compassionate to a fault," Severus agreed.

Sirius nodded. "Yes. She went back to you even after what you did to her."

"If you're going to insult me, get the hell out, Black."

"No, I'm making a point."

"Make it quickly."

"My point is she saw the inherent good in everyone. Not to say she was perfect. She was a master guilt-tripper. She'd twist your words around so she could get what she wanted out of you . . ."

"She would've made an excellent Slytherin." Severus grinned.

"But she was a Gryffindor instead. Mainly because she was impulsive. Always leapt before thinking. She lost interest in things quickly, so I was surprised, to say the least, when she didn't drop you like a bad habit."

"Gee, you know how to make a man feel better about himself."

"Considering you're not a man, that would be a moot comment."

"Black . . ." Severus said warningly.

"Bygones . . . anyway, the same could've been said for me. I was the one, after all, who convinced James and Lil to let Pettigrew be the Secret-Keeper. I pretty much handed them over to Voldie with a nice pink bow."

Severus laughed at the irony. "Both of us made decisions that cost us people we loved, and yet Malika forgave us anyway. What a woman."

"I could say you didn't deserve her, Snape, but that, also, would be a moot point."

"And I could say the same."

"A goddess among men, she was . . ."

Severus laughed. "Again, irony. She was a goddess."

Sirius smirked. "Yes. I guess even goddesses fall . . ."

Images of a shaking, crying Malika flashed through his head, and he sobbed.

"I didn't deserve her . . . she should've left with you . . ."

A hesitant hand hovered over his shoulder before it grasped it and squeezed. "Love isn't about deserving, Snape. If that were the case, a great number of people would never find it. The fact remains, Malika loved you and only you; there was nothing you could've done that would change her mind, even that."

"But I forced her down and . . ."

"She wrote me a letter; it was a couple of months after the ordeal. She'd already moved back to the States by then. She told me everything about what happened--everything. We may not have been lovers anymore, but she was definitely my best friend."

"A thing I could never understand . . ."

Sirius glared at him. "Can it, Snape."

Severus merely shrugged.

"But I was going to give it to you. As much as I hated your guts, I loved Malika more, and she was one of the main reasons why I didn't lose my soul. I was out for blood."

"Why haven't you killed me yet, then, since you know everything?"

Sirius looked at him, a mask of hatred on his face. "You don't. As a matter of fact, neither does Dumbledore . . ."

The dread returned, fiercer than ever. "What do you mean?"

"Remember at that meeting when Jamilah figured out who this Set god was?"

"Yes. It's Pettigrew; I figured it out when Voldemort returned."

Sirius's expression was grim. "Remember that when you read the letter."

~~~~~~~~

Pettigrew downed the scotch in one large gulp, not even wincing as it burned his throat. This holiday season brought none of its usual cheer.

He could not get to the Weasley girl.

Pettigrew growled and looked at the empty shot glass with disdain. There was a reason for leaving Potter alone, and the very reason was proving difficult to come by. He, like Voldemort, couldn't very well go traipsing down into Hogsmeade whenever he wanted, which meant someone else had to do it. As it was, all of the Death Eaters were not known for their stealth. The exception was Snape, and even he left Pettigrew with a nagging discomfort.

Bloody Occlumens and Legilimens.

Snape was a liability that could prove to be fatal to the cause. The only reason why Snape was still there in one piece was because he provided good information about the goings on at Hogwarts. How else would they have known to use Sirius as bait? Pettigrew's lip curled with sadistic glee.

Sirius is dead! Good riddance.

One less person to worry about standing in the way of Harry Potter; one less person in the way of Virginia Weasley; one less person in the way of Isis.

He was positive Virginia Weasley was Isis.

He'd felt her use her powers three times, the third was even stronger than before. The first one, however, was indeed stronger than the second, and the energy from it was peculiar, but three times the charm, no? Pettigrew's smile widened. He was closer to his key to total domination--of the world and of her.

He poured himself another shot of scotch in self-congratulations.

"Pettigrew!"

He rolled his eyes at the sound of his name. "What do you want?"

Pettigrew felt the other bristle with indignation. He smirked.

"Harry Potter's head on a stick, that's what!"

"Patience, Voldie, patience . . . I've waited many millennia, surely you can wait another year . . ."

Voldemort gave a high-pitched sputter, and Pettigrew groaned. Voldemort was nothing more than an overgrown child.

"I don't have patience! All you're doing is allowing him to grow stronger!"

"He's but a boy--"

"With my essence flowing through him!"

Pettigrew scowled. "Poor kid."

Voldemort squealed and shot a curse at him. The spell hit the scotch glass and caused it to explode. Pettigrew glared at the incensed Dark Lord.

"I'll have you know," Pettigrew began as he shook the scotch off his hand, "that was a particularly good shot glass you just destroyed!"

Pettigrew was sure Voldemort would've rolled his eyes if he had any. "I don't care about your stupid shot glass! I want Harry Potter! I want the world!"

"I want my hair back as well, but you don't see me raiding wig shops, do you?"

"You should," Voldemort deadpanned.

Pettigrew glared again. "Patience. You're getting stronger as well, my lord. Pretty soon you won't even need your wand."

Voldemort offered a lipless smile and Pettigrew fought down a shudder. "Potter won't know what hit him."

"And neither will the Weasley girl . . ."

"A most interesting development has been brought to my attention on the matter," Voldemort said, highly pleased with himself.

"Oh?"

"It seems Mr. Potter has taken a shining to Miss Weasley . . ."

Pettigrew grinned . . .It was too good to be true.

"You mean like--"

"James and Lily Potter! What is it with redheads being drawn to the Potters? There's nothing all that special about them . . ."

"It's the tall, dark, and handsome thing."

Voldemort looked confounded. "I'm tall, dark, and handsome."

Pettigrew was glad he was able to keep a straight face, though a corner of his mouth did twitch with effort.

"Speaking of the Potters . . . did we ever find the other girl?"

Pettigrew frowned. "What other girl?"

"The one who was supposed to bear my heir."

Pettigrew scanned his brain, trying to remember her name. He came up blank.

"What was her name?

"Molly . . . Mallory . . . Malady . . ."

Pettigrew's brows furrowed as he ran through a list of names as well. Suddenly the tension left his face, and his eyes widened.

"Malika?"

Voldemort snapped his fingers in triumph. "Malika! Yes! Did we ever find her? If so, where is she now? And more importantly, where is my heir?"

Truth was he didn't know. Last he knew, she was fucking Sirius Black . . . before then . . .

Severus Snape.

"I don't know, my lord, but I'm sure Snape knows where she is."

Voldemort waved his hand as if to brush away the offer. "I don't care about her. I want my heir!"

"How do you know you were supposed to have an heir?"

"Malfoy was telling me about a Dark Revel in which a certain Malika was taken and given a Conception Ritual."

"Aren't Conception Rituals good things?"

Voldemort laughed. "Not when they take place in at a Dark Revel and not when they use wolfsbane instead of myrrh to anoint the body."

Pettigrew's frown deepened. "I was there . . . did Malfoy remember what this Malika girl look like?"

"He said she was short, very beautiful, skin the color of deepest mahogany, eyes like the sun . . ."

Pettigrew sucked in a wild breath of shock.

Her.

"If you're looking for Malika . . .she didn't conceive."

"How do you know this?"

"I would've felt her seed grow."

"How?"

"Because I would've been the father, that's how."