Contact

Dear God, this isn't something I thought I'd be doing on a mission.

Sitting cross-legged underneath a shade tree, the little girl grabbed another handful of soil and let it trickle through her fingers, tossing the last of it up into the air for good measure. The summer breeze, hitherto content merely to play in her curls, suddenly turned mischievous and blew the fine particles back into her face.

Damn it!

She carelessly dug grimy fists into her eyes, thinking only to alleviate the sting, but the end result was an upper face liberally muddied by a combination of dirt and tears. Her bottom lip shoved forward, childish anger indulging itself in a good pout, but without an audience such things weren't worth the effort for long. She stood awkwardly and batted at the golden ringlets that rioted down to her shoulders, raining bits of earth as she worked out some of the tangles; but the grass stains on her pink-flowered sun dress were another matter. After a few half-hearted swipes she gave up.

Where the hell is he? I make a special effort to get here early, and now he's late.

The girl's face lit up, having spied a tree branch, conveniently low enough for her four-year-old limbs to reach. Running as fast as short, somewhat unsteady legs would allow, she caught hold and let her momentum swing her forward, legs raised in a crook-kneed fashion that displayed to the world how fond this tiny example of femininity was of Mickey Mouse underwear.

I should have been contacted by now. I never ever want to hear Moody complain about me being late again, if one of the Order's golden boys can't even have the decency to stick to a schedule.

A pair of grubby knees swung back and forth while she gripped the branch, scrabbling to take a better hold. Her voice lifted up in a sweet, off-key treble.

"Hey diddle diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon.

The little dog laughed to see such--"

Her attention was caught by a wandering butterfly, the whimsical nature of its flight bringing a bubble of laughter to her rosy lips. Fingers released their hold on the makeshift swing and she dropped back to the ground, stumbling a bit as she went chasing after the jewel-winged distraction.

And no sign of the two we're supposed to trail. Am I the only one who looked at a clock this morning? I dunno, maybe we were wrong about the location...I told Kingsley that a park in the London suburbs seemed like an odd place for Death Eaters to show up.

Her interest in the butterfly waned as quickly as it had arisen. The impromptu chase abandoned, she raised her arms to her sides and began a slow spin, laughing as she twirled on the grass like a top before collapsing in a giggling heap on the grass. Her quarry came to rest on a nearby bush.

This is complete bollocks. There's not a damn thing here except for me and that butterfly. I'm bored. Kingsley's going to get a swift kick in the arse when I get back to headquarters--along with my partner, wherever the hell he is.

Bad first impression, mate, I've got to say. Everyone swore up and down you were as dependable as they come, but standing a girl up on your first mission together is one hell of a way to chuck that good reputation down the loo.

The girl stood, swooping down again briefly to pluck a flower that had nearly met its death under her sandaled foot. The petals tickled her upper lip as she bent her head to smell the blossom, unfortunately triggering a sneezing fit. More dirt smeared across her face when she wiped her nose across one forearm. The flower was closely inspected, tossed in the air a few times and finally picked to pieces; she then shifted round again in a circle, fingers falling open to shower the bits of petal, leaf, and stem in an arc around her feet.

I never should have agreed to go into this blind. There's no real reason for the Order to get involved in a simple Auror case, anyway. If I can't handle a bleeding surveillance assignment, they should just take away my wand now, and besides, if my own boss didn't think I needed backup, why should Moody turn around and saddle me with some guy I've never even met?

At least they dug up some pictures of him, though really, those photos were enough to put me to sleep. I hope he's not like that in person. I mean, he seemed to have a book permanently Spellotaped to one hand, and I swear he's got the most godawful boring taste in secondhand clothes ever... Being strapped for Galleons doesn't have to mean abandoning style altogether. Fashion advice, that's what he needs. Though I don't suppose he'd appreciate some tossing little witch like me nagging him over his wardrobe. Maybe he won't be so bad. Sirius likes him, which has to mean there's something interesting lurking underneath that librarian exterior. And he has got a nice smile, I suppose...

The distinctive crack of Apparation reverberated somewhere in the neighborhood behind her and she tensed, forcing down the surge of adrenaline that nearly had her whipping around for a look.

Instead she raised her eyebrows in mild interest, her ringlets bobbing slightly as she looked up into the sky, at the trees and finally back down the quiet street. Out of the corner of one eye there came a glimpse of two men walking out from a nearby alley between apartment houses. They were talking as they strolled along, when the taller one seemed to notice her and they changed direction, making for where she stood.

Hell! Aren't these are the guys we're here to do surveillance on? Should I leave? Damn it, I can't Apparate now--I'd give the whole mission away. The back of her neck prickled briefly, but she tried to bluster away the sudden unease. Hey, stop that. They're not going to do anything to a Muggle child right here in the open.

She stared at the strangers, wide-eyed and curious, following their progress onto the grass toward her until they stood just a few feet away. Unease shivered down her spine as twin stares pinned her to the patch of grass she stood on.

One small hand waved a greeting. "Hi!" she piped. Her seemingly innocent blue eyes flickered between their faces, while she mentally assessed the pair in front of her.

The taller of the two was thick-set, with massive shoulders and impossibly long legs. His leer made her fervently hope that he didn't usually come across little children alone in a city park Simon Lennox, if the old photo in his file was anything to go by, though it didn't contain more than that. More muscle than brains to look at him, a typical bullyboy, though bigger than most. Whoever put together the information on him had somehow skipped over his undisguised penchant for young girls.

The second, his ice-blue eyes fixed intently on her face with a disquieting expression, looked much like her childhood impression of an angel: less tall than his companion, graceful, slender, with gilt hair floating around his fine-boned face. A picture of ethereal masculine beauty. Lucifer before the fall. Oswin Claremont.

He and Lucius Malfoy must be quite the matching set when they get together.

So near to him now, she'd rather not think about what was contained in his inch thick file; every account in there told the story of a monster lurking underneath the beautiful exterior.

Claremont's graceful mouth curved into a razor-edged smile. "Hello, little one."

Battling the sudden mad urge to spin on her heel and flee, the "little one" wondered how those three small words could evince so much cruelty. The earlier shiver down her back decided to give a repeat performance.

She dragged a fist across her nose again and snuffled, a shy smile hovering over her mouth. "Are you an angel?" she asked, wonderment tingeing her voice.

His smile widened, emphasizing the chill in his eyes and forcing her to suppress another shudder. The dark man at his side let out a coarse laugh, black beady eyes lingering over her tiny frame.

Damn pervert. Shit, shit, SHIT! I'm going to hex Remus bloody Lupin to the moon when I get my hands on him! Something's wrong here. Why are these two even bothering with--

"Little girl," the false angel cut into her thoughts, his voice honey-smooth but with an underlying menace that hung in the air between them. "Can you answer me a question?"

Panic was beginning to pulse through her; it built with every heartbeat. She mentally cursed herself and fought it down.

You're an Auror, for God's sake! You've been trained to handle situations like this, and damned if you're going to let all rational thought fly out the window just because no one's here to get you out of trouble!

She casually linked her hands behind her back and looked down at one foot as it scuffed the dirt, praying they would dismiss the flush on her face as embarrassment. Effectively hidden now, she clenched her fingers, refusing to wince as the nails bit viciously into her palms. The pain cleared her head somewhat. Fear was simply a luxury she couldn't afford right now. The mission was shot, there was no sense in trying to deny it, but there was every chance she might get away without betraying who she was. The attempt had to be made anyway, and she needed to be able to think straight in order to do it.

Peering up through the flaxen curls that had tumbled into her eyes, she managed to answer coyly, "My mum said not to talk too much to strangers."

"Well, my dear, your mother sounds like a wise woman. Still, would she tell you not to help someone in need? Even angels need directions, you know." The words dripped sweetly off his tongue, and she briefly thanked the Fates that she was not in fact the child she appeared to be. No child would have been able to resist such charm, unable to sense the poison mixed in with the honey.

"You want directions, mister?" Perhaps if she played along they might actually leave her alone. After all, would they really attempt a kidnapping out in public like this, in broad daylight?

"Oh, yes--you see, I'm looking for a friend and I'm not sure where he lives. You may have seen him around here, though," he purred.

A tiny alarm began to ring in her head. It was ridiculous to think that he would come to such a place without knowing exactly where he was going, so why put up such a show? As farfetched as a kidnapping was, her gut told her something wasn't right. The alarm grew louder.

She needed to get out of there.

Think, you idiot! You got yourself into this bloody mess like a fool, thinking that Death Eaters like these two would hesitate at kidnapping. No one's here to get you out again, unless that fucking werewolf shows up now like Elijah in a flaming chariot.

Shrugging her thin shoulders, she swung a leg backward and shifted her weight, putting just a little more space between herself and the two men staring at her with such unsettling intensity.

"We just moved here. I don't know anybody yet." Her eyes widened at a sudden thought. "Oh, wait, I know! I'll go get my mum and she can help you!" Pearly teeth gleamed when she grinned, her wide smile as guileless as her blue eyes. One foot took another delicate step back.

It was unnerving, the way his ice-blue eyes were glittering in the sunlight, but Claremont made no attempt to stop her. Encouraged, she turned and began to skip away, an almost overwhelming sense of relief threatening to sap her limbs of strength as she aimed for a house across the park. Toys left on the front steps heralded the presence of children, and she might safely walk around the house to the yard in the back without suspicion.

She chanced a swift glance over one shoulder. The two men might have been statues, silently, motionlessly tracking her progress. The relief that had settled over her, comforting as a warm blanket on a cold night, was abruptly yanked away to leaving her shivering in fear once more. Instinct kicked her in the guts and screamed out a single word into her mind.

RUN!!

Her head whipped forward again as she gathered herself to take flight, but not more than one desperate stride was allowed before her legs were cut out from under her. She landed heavily in the dirt, paralyzed from the waist down and winded from the fall. Bruised, shaking, she raised herself onto her elbows and tried to crawl forward, though common sense told her it was useless. Already the ground behind her reverberated with the deliberate, heavy tread of booted feet as the Death Eaters approached. They must be enjoying this, witnessing her lying so helpless on the ground.

No! It's not going to end like this! She desperately scanned the surrounding area, hoping to see someone, anyone, who might notice what was happening in the park and think it worth coming over to investigate.

Her heart sank even as she searched for a would-be saviour. None of this would look at all suspicious to an outside observer, she realized. Claremont had made no move on her that any Muggle could see. Anyone watching would have seen her blithely skipping across the park, only to trip and fall many feet away from the pair of men. No one could know that it was one of them who had jinxed her from behind. It was perfectly natural that the two would then come over to assist her, which must have been Claremont's intent.

God, Mad-Eye will kill me for being so thick. A horrible thought arose. I hope he gets the chance to try.

A second thought followed swiftly, hitting her like an oncoming train and nearly crushing her under the weight of it: these men would not hesitate to strike out at anyone who ventured near, she was sure of it. Calling the attention of any passing Muggle would be tantamount to handing them a death sentence. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

She had to let them take her without a struggle.

Behind her, the muted sound of boots on the grass had fallen silent.

"Little one, you really should be more careful." Claremont's voice wrapped itself around her, its silken tone sheathing the deadly significance of his words. He knelt beside her and pulled her upright, supporting her small body since her unresponsive legs hung useless beneath her. "It appears that you cannot walk, child." He picked her up, cradling her against him in a travesty of an embrace.

She bit her lip to contain an altogether unexpected whimper of fear. Whatever twisted desires she had earlier seen gleaming in Lennox's eyes were nothing compared to the promise of torment burning within Claremont's.

One thought broke free from the chaos that spun wildly through her mind. This whole situation made no sense. Why go to all this trouble to snatch a Muggle child? She glanced up at Claremont and asked in a small voice, "Where are we going? Are you taking me home now?"

She felt the low rumble in his chest as he broke into quiet laughter, a terrifying, evil sound that whispered of death.

He smiled down at the small captive in his arms and slowly stroked one cheek, laughing again as she shuddered away from his fingers, unable to keep up a childish façade as her imagination unwillingly pictured what those same fingers might do to her if escape became impossible.

Claremont bent his head slowly and whispered into her ear, sweeping even those frightening images away in a flood of shock and terror.

"Oh, not yet. There's something I need to show you first, my dear Nymphadora."