I'll Stand Alone

-A man who has lost his romance is like a devil-

The mound of clay currently sitting atop her desk wasn't very pretty, but she was working on that.

"You're a rather ugly fellow, but you'll be quite fine once I finish with you," Lilika said cheerfully, carefully kneading more clay into the mix and trying not to aggravate her sore hands. Most of the ingredients had already been used; now all she had to do was knead, pound and shape it into a man. The control gem glinted off to her left, the firelight making it wink and shimmer fitfully.

"The leg bone's connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder bone's connected to the tailbone, the tailbone's connected to the anklebone," she sang, working more clay into her hands and then into the form in front of her. Lilika stopped kneading for moment and examined her hands once more. She had removed the bandages from her fingertips; they were raw and pink like newborn mice, but her palms had taken the brunt of the damage and were still wrapped. There were other reasons besides damage to keep her palms out of sight, however.

"Maybe it's another blood related thing," she muttered to herself, squishing the pulpy mixture between her fingers and feeling it ooze out like mud. "It has to be. Just like with the mamorigami -it's only due to the family." Lilika squished a little more clay, thinking. She'd treated her bandages with a filth-repelling spell, so she could get her hands dirty without worrying, but she wasn't entirely sure just how long it would last. Better get moving then, before the clay hardened.

There was a sharp sudden knock on the office door and she jumped. The clay in her hands went flying to a far corner of her office and she cursed, scrambling after it. She fervently hoped it wasn't one of her students; she had wanted so badly to surprise them. "Who is it?" The clay was nowhere to be found, and she dropped to her hands and knees to search for it.

"Myself and Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said cheerfully from behind the door. "We were merely passing through and wondered if we might observe for a bit."

Oh? And whoever told you I was doing something worth observing? She felt her eyebrows contracting in anger, threatening to become one line on her face. It wouldn't be someone with the initials S.S by any chance?

She bit her tongue and waved the door open. "Of course, come in."

The door creaked open, and Dumbledore and McGonagall edged their way around it, carefully trying not to step on anything. The little office was rather full to the brim. She'd pushed her desk to the center so she could move around it more easily and piles of ingredients, stacks of book, several small smokeless fires and a large, battered cauldron that was currently occupying the hook where her fuchsia had been hanging were all jostling each other for space.

The wayward clay had snuck under one of the filing cabinets, and Lilika rose from her kneeling position with it clenched in her hand, apologizing. Dumbledore told her not to be silly. Professor McGonagall had not moved from the tiny clear space by the door and had an expression of what looked like deep apprehension on her face.

"Minerva, you really must come and take a better look," Dumbledore said as he circled her desk, peering with great interest at her half-finished homunculus. "It's quite fascinating. I don't believe I've seen one of these in about fifty years."

"I can see quite well from here, Albus," McGonagall replied tartly. "My eyes haven't failed yet."

Dumbledore chuckled, his golden spectacles nearly falling off his long nose as he bent even closer to the mass on her desk. Lilika groaned, seeing some of the fluid from her creation running off the desk and onto the floor, making small dark spots on the pale tile. "I'd hate to accuse you of not having a sense of adventure, Minerva."

"Adventure, nothing!" McGonagall snapped suddenly. "You can poke and prod all you want, but I remember what happened with the last golem someone brought here. Fifty years ago, wasn't it? Ran amuck, didn't it? It took eight of the staff to stop it and it wounded fifty people and nearly killed it's creator!" She took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself. "That's why they were outlawed."

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "He was such a pleasant fellow too-only trying to do a demonstration for his new company and the thing just upped and went mad on him."

"It can't go mad on me," Lilika said, finally able to break into the conversation. She pushed the loose sleeves of her robe up, as they kept dropping down and wanting to cover her wrists. Served her right for wearing a hand-me-down. "The old golems used nightshade as an integral component and that's what gives it the ability to move and react on it's own. Take out the nightshade, add a little more verbena, and it will only move when I want it to. I'll have to bind it to me first of course." She moved back to her desk and worked the errant clay into the form. "It won't do anything now anyway, it's not even done."

McGonagall gave her a rather suspicious look, but finally moved a little closer. Both professors continued to watch as she added, mixed and pressed the golem into shape. "No one besides me will be able to use it. Unless they happened to know really powerful magic," she said, trying to be reassuring. McGonagall did not look convinced.

Lilika was just finishing the left arm when a prickle hit her between her shoulder blades, causing her to stop molding for a moment. Oh hell. She knew that particular feeling quite well; the nasty little tingle that came whenever she was being watched by someone who greatly disliked her. It felt a little like a finger jabbing her hard in the back. She sighed in resignation. It was almost as if she was back home again, her brother watching her from the door with malice fairly sticking out of his eyes.

"I always knew he was a keyhole watcher," she muttered.

"Excuse me?" McGonagall said with lifted eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing," she said and quickly turned her head.

Dumbledore was watching her, and she wondered if he might have heard her. She flushed and Dumbledore gave her what might have been a wink.

"Severus! Why don't you come in and join us?" Dumbledore called through the door.

Ehhh?

Sure enough, the door slid open and Snape was looking around the edge of the doorway, his usual sneer firmly in place. "I don't believe there's room," he said softly, staring at the things scattered around her office as if they were pieces of garbage strewn about a landfill. Lilika bent over her arm again, letting her long hair fall over her face and earnestly hoping it would camouflage her grinding teeth.

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, making a space between Lilika and himself. "There's plenty of room; we'll just have to squeeze together."

Lilika groaned, very, very quietly.

When she lifted her head from the arm again, Snape was standing at the far end of her desk, watching her with a odd, closed expression. His face seemed whiter then normal. "Is there a problem, Professor Snape?" she said evenly.

"No problem," he said, his black eyes flat and unreadable. "I'm merely surprised that you aren't dressed with your usual...display. Except," and he pointed a long, bony finger directly at the large ruby pendent over her heart "for that. "

She put a hand to the stone, trying her damnedest to stay calm and not fly at him like a child. "It's an heirloom."

One of his eyebrows went up. "So it is. And by the way, that robe is far too large for you," he said smoothly and slipped in besides Dumbledore while a drop of sweat trickled down her side. "Headmaster, I can't understand why you are letting this little project continue as far as it has. These creatures are illegal, and I can foresee numerous hazards arising from having one here, but yet you are allowing this to go forth..."

His voice dissolved into a hazy murmur as she fought to stay calm. Her fingers came up and traced the end of the gold crescent dangling from the ruby, fingers that were now slick with sweat. I've been really, really stupid.

Lilika concentrated on shaping the face, trying to keep her hands from trembling. Snape was putting on a great show of listening to Dumbledore explain his view on things while staring at her all the while with a barely disguised look of triumph on his face. Jesu, he obviously knows something.

I will NOT be driven away by him! By God, if I could survive sixteen years of Charles and Mother, I can handle him! He will not make me feel like an idiot! Aaaarrggggh! He's making me feel twelve again, the bastard! Slippery, slimy, weaselly disgusting little prat! Go take a bath!

She managed to calm herself through many subtle deep breaths until she could smile again. Lilika took up the control gem-a particularly fine bloodstone she had been given for her fourteenth birthday-and pressed it gently into the golem's forehead.

"There!" she said and smiled. The other three broke off their conversation to look at her.

Lilika dragged a chair around to face her desk and climbed onto to it. "That just leaves the binding. Here we go."

Dumbledore was smiling broadly, apparently enjoying himself a great deal. McGonagall hadn't lost the apprehensive look and was actually edging slightly behind Dumbledore. Snape had a nasty look of something lurking around his face. She couldn't tell exactly what it was; anger, hatred or maybe even fear, but whatever it was, it intensified when she leaned forward to touch the gem.

"Oi, omae. Mezameru yo!" Hey you, awaken.

"I thought it was supposed to be commanded in Latin. Or Hebrew," McGonagall said, forgetting enough of her fear to peer around Dumbledore. Lilika wondered just exactly what had happened fifty years ago to make McGonagall-a women who seemed made of steel-to act like this.

"Too common," Lilika replied. "Almost every wizard knows those languages, so I picked a less common one. My father drilled me in Japanese after he took a trip there, so it just leapt to mind. I was originally going to use Chinese, but I've forgotten most of what I learned."

They waited in silence for a few minutes.

"Perhaps you've lost your touch..."

A deep red glitter skittered across the face of the bloodstone and the limbs trembled.

Lilika laughed, out of pure exultation and the sight of the bitter frown on Snape's face. "Saa, omae wo kite kudasai yo! Say, you come here.

The golem's entire body shuddered. Then, it began to rise, slowly and stiffly like an old man, turning until it faced her.

"Yatta! " Lilika gave up her self-control and jumped up and down on the chair gleefully.

How could Dumbledore let her go through with this? Snape had lost count of the number of times he'd bitten his tongue, trying to keep his words even and neutral, not for her sake, but for the Headmaster's. First the damned werewolf and now this.

No, it had actually started with that idiot Lockhart, but the Headmaster had been left with no other options at the time. It hadn't been his his fault. Quirrell had been clever enough to lay low for a few years. The werewolf and a girl who though she was trying so cleverly to hide, but whose every movement, every word screamed out her origins. He bit his lip, thinking.

When she turned out to be just like the others, Dumbledore would have to listen to him.

He sneered at a greenish jar of pickled rat brains on the wall in his office, feeling his robes swish behind him as he paced back and forth, the old tile cracking faintly under his footsteps. The Halloween Feast was only a few hours away and he need have to prepare soon.

"Does she honestly think," he whispered to himself, "that she's getting away with anything? Blatantly wearing the seal like that? True, only a few people would know what it means, but if you have any brains at all, you don't wear anything that advertises who you truly are if you are trying to hide!"

It wasn't just that, it was her accent, her archaic and rather ornate way of dressing-a style used only by the oldest families these days. His lips twisted in disgust. Her intimacy with the Dark Arts. It all served to expose her in the end.

Exposed...Snape swore violently and pinched his arm hard, trying to drive away the image of that woman leaning over her desk, her black hair drawn up and falling over her shoulder. Her robe was too big and as she leaned over she'd given him an excellent view of white skin so pale he could see the blue veins in it and that damned ruby just drawing his attention ever closer to her br...

Enough! he snapped. I don't have time for this! He yanked his chair back and sat in it, clenching his fingers hard on his temples and thought.

If he shut his eyes very tightly and carefully peeled back the layers of his memory, easing his way back before the blackness, the tragedy, back to when he was twenty, he could see her standing there, her red cloak billowing around her, black hair drawn into braided loops tied with red ribbon. I knew I had seen her before. The blood had run into her eyes and she had never blinked once.

Snape stood up and after a little more thought, slowly and deliberately made his way over to a dust covered cabinet in the farthest, darkest corner of his office.

This was where his unpleasant memories lurked, things of his from the time "before", things he'd rather forgot but could not afford to let go of. So, he had done the simplest and most reasonable thing and shut them away where he would never have to look at them. With tightened lips he unlocked the bottom drawer and felt around in it, rather then look, for the thing he was seeking. His fingers closed on a folder and he drew it out and shook it off.

Inside this folder were two newspaper clippings-one from a Muggle paper, the other from the Daily Prophet. He had cut them out at the time because of the sheer irony of it all.

The Muggle paper read: TRIPLE MURDER STUNS COUNTRY.

The Daily Prophet read: DOUBLE MURDER STUNS WIZARDING WORLD.

In each of the papers, there was a single picture of a young girl, identified as the last remaining member of the family. Neither paper seemed to know much about her; Andrew had kept her under wraps, after all. He smiled bitterly. In the Muggle picture she was huddled in the arms of a woman identified as her aunt; the picture in the Daily Prophet was much the same, except the girl kept trying to hide her face and move out of the picture.

Yes, this was her. A small name change and there you had it. He ran his thumb over the girl's picture as the clock behind him struck six.

Lilika ducked to avoid another bat swooping down at her and smiled. The Halloween Ball was nice so far, with lots of happy chattering students and girls giggling together in corners, and the decorations were fantastic. She'd never seen such large pumpkins before. Magic, all of it.

She drank a little more mulberry wine, feeling pleasantly light-headed. She'd noticed quite a few couples furtively slipping away as the night grew longer and she was happy for them. Her own memory of being in a bush floated up and she laughed out loud, causing not a few people to stare at her. She waved at them merrily, uncaring, and nearly dripped all her wine over her good robes as she did. She cursed inadvertently as she brushed at her robes. She wasn't so far gone with drink that she didn't notice making a mess. Lilika paused for a few moments to collect herself, and then decided to go outside.

The night air was much cooler on her face and neck and she stood in the breeze gratefully, letting it ruffle her hair. She'd taken her hair out of its customary braids for the evening and let most of it fall down her back, only keeping two small braids wrapped around the top of her head. Some of the teachers had looked a little taken aback when she had appeared in her good robes at dinner. They were damned heavy, and maybe the gold and silver embroidery was a little much, but whatever. She looked good in them and they hadn't hurt her on the dance floor.

Dumbledore had grabbed her first, followed by Hagrid, whose enormous size and enthusiastic style of dancing had kept her moving very quickly to avoid being crushed. Flitwick had been next, quite pleased to finally find a partner who didn't tower over him the way the others did. After Flitwick she had taken a break, drank a few glasses of wine and watched the other teachers and the students dance.

Snape hadn't been dancing of course. He'd sat there glowering during dinner and skulked off once the dancing had started and no one had seen him since. Maybe he'd gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest and eaten by something. She grinned and drank some more.

She was just rounding the fountain, admiring the gentle twinkling of the fairy lights when there was a flurry of little shrieks from up ahead. A pretty girl in lavender robes dashed past her, crying, followed closely by a stocky brown-haired boy who looked just as upset as the girl, although he wasn't crying. He looked close to it though.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Smalley! And ten points from Gryffindor Miss Hankery!" a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice snarled from up ahead. A small explosion followed, then more shrieks, more tears and more people.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Patil! And ten more points from Gryffindor Mr. Finnegan! The next time I catch anyone it will be twenty!"

Snape was so busy scaring the hell out of people that he actually didn't notice when she slipped up behind him. "What are you, the Enforcer? Let the children have a good time, for God's sake."

He whipped around and glared at her, his large nose twitching. "They are breaking the rules and I don't give a damn what you think," he hissed.

She glared back. "Never been in the bushes, have you?" she inquired sweetly, smiled pleasantly and turned away, leaving him to fume behind her.

"And maybe you've spent too much time in the bushes," Snape bit out in reply as soon as her back turned.

"Just WHAT are you insinuating?" she yelled, once his meaning had penetrated her fogged brain. Maybe she had drunk a little too much. Snape was already sweeping away up the path before her, not bothering to wait for a reply. She started after him, swaying a little on the damp grass.

"There are some insults you just can't ignore," she declared, and followed him.

He was checking the small rooms off the main hall now; the children were starting to get sneaky. He'd already chased away four groups, many of them Gryffindors and had taken a small but vicious pleasure in taking points from them. Rules were rules, after all.

Snape had just entered the last room on the right when a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice spoke from behind him. "Shtill at it, Shnape?"

He nearly jumped, but he would not give her the pleasure of seeing him startled. "You're drunk," he said, in a tone meant to convey obvious disdain.

"I'm not drunk," she said, emphatically. "Just...happy." Her words were slow and carefully formed. "I am not drunk," she said again, more firmly this time and he was surprised at how much more controlled her speech had become.

" Whatever you are, you're not wanted here," he said tersely, feeling his fingers tighten on his wand. "Get away."

She raised her eyebrows and came closer, her skirts rustling slightly. "I have a perfect right to be here." A glass of wine was still clutched in her hand, the deep red liquid sloshing a little as she walked. He stood very still and glared at her; she didn't pick up the hint and continued to move closer until she was no more then a foot away from him. He tensed.

"I suppose you can't help your breeding," he said lazily.

"What?" She looked confused and also a little angry. Good, she was finally getting the message.

"That entitled attitude of yours. Comes from having your every wish fulfilled, doesn't it? The noblewoman may change her name and clothes, but she can't change who she is," he said softly, and moved to go past her.

"Wait."

Her face had turned a dark, dangerous shade of red and her voice was little more then a whisper when she finally spoke. "Just what do you know?"

"I know you look very much like your sister when your hair is up. That was Maida's old robe you were wearing before, wasn't it? She was taller then you."

"Was, yes, was." Her voice had tightened and gone all shaky. "Of course you knew my sister, of course."

"Get out, little snippet, before it's too late. We don't need your kind here at Hogwarts. I know your family's...tendencies. There are" and his voice tightened involuntarily on the next words "spots that don't come off."

"My kind? My kind?" She was openly shaking now, her face a deep, dull red, fists clenched and her glass lay forgotten on the floor. "Just what the hell do you mean by my kind? I have no blood on my hands. My kind? What about your kind, Snape? Death Eater? Does your Mark still burn? Do you ever think about the people you killed, screaming and dying? What gave you that right?"

The last few words tumbled out on a shriek.

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, a little shaken but not willing to show it. Her breathing was ragged, her head down.

"I don't want to look at something like you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. "And you have the damned nerve to preach to me ."

When he finally controlled himself enough to speak again, his voice was very, very quiet.

"So you know about that, do you? It doesn't matter. Dumbledore knows me, Dumbledore trusts me, I have earned my place here. You, on the other hand, are a spoiled brat, an unknown quantity and a dangerous liability." He gripped her skinny shoulders, forced her head up and stared her right in her small face, gone white with terror, leaning in towards her. His voice slid into a hiss. "I can just imagine what people would say if they found out we were harboring a Woo..."

She went completely, rigidly still as he spoke and just as he was about to name her for what she truly was, the girl made her move. Her hands whipped out and wound themselves painfully into his hair, yanking his face down to hers.

"Shut up," she said flatly, and kissed him.

A deep and very hot anger like nothing she'd ever before felt was flowing through her as she grabbed him. It felt like molten iron was running slow and bright through her veins, this anger, and it cleared her mind. He knows, the bastard knows and I have to shut him up before he can tell everyone.

So she kissed him.

It wasn't quite as unpleasant as she feared. His mouth was thin, but his lips were warm and firm and his body had gone completely rigid the instant she'd touched him. She'd snuck a glance at his face through her lashes and his eyes were plastered open with the shock. Hopefully it would drive the words right out of his mouth and his mind. Lilika had to stretch up on tiptoe to reach him and her legs were cramping. Just a little more...

His thin hands were still clutching her shoulders and she was more surprised then anything that he hadn't shoved her away yet.

She could taste pumpkin juice on his lips and she could smell what he'd been working with earlier, some kind of herb, dry and tart. It was wrong for this kiss to be so unremarkable.

He shuddered, as if in pain.

Good. She wanted it to burn.

She continued tugging on his hair until their foreheads touched, then opened her eyes with her most menacing look. For a moment they stared at each other, then Snape squeezed his eyes shut.

His fingers dug into her shoulders with bruising force and she broke the kiss as he shoved her back, making her fall, and scrambled away from her, holding a hand to his mouth as if he'd been bitten. He was breathing very rapidly.

"You vile wench," he finally hissed, his voice slightly higher then normal. "How dare you?!" His voice rose until it was almost a shriek. "How dare you?!

He whirled around and stormed out of the room. He left almost at a run, in fact, his black cloak flapping behind him.

Lilika stayed on the floor, feeling bruised, battered and very slightly shaken. "Maybe he understands now. If he tries to tell anyone, I'll have to threaten to screw him next," she muttered and smiled a little, painfully. She touched her mouth again.

"That was interesting."