Heir Of Voldemort

"Earth to Xander! Come in, Xander!"

"Huh?" Blinking, Alexander stared momentarily at the hand waving in front of his face, then to the owner of that hand. Jesse grinned at him and Alexander sheepishly grinned back. "Was I doing it again?"

"Jaw was almost on the floor this time," Jesse confirmed, leaning over the edge of the windowsill to watch the show.

Both of the fifteen-year-old boys had never been more grateful for the fact that the Harris' neighbours had a sprinkler system in the back garden, which their teenage daughter and her friends used regularly during summer as a cooling device.

On this particular day, the pair were watching half a dozen bikini-clad fifteen-year-old girls running around the garden, squealing with laughter, as the ice-cold spray washed over them.

Although they were loathe to admit, the one girl that drew their attention the most in what could be called the aesthetically-pleasing sense - despite the lack of running-through-sprinklers - was Cordelia Chase.

The brunette was lazing on a sun-lounger, her already bronzed skin revealed to the elements, a stylish pair of sunglasses propped artistically on top of her thick hair as she surveyed her minions at play.

The boys had randomly imagined Cordelia as having a stunning figure, which was a bad thing because they were meant to hate her, but they had never realised just how close they were.

Cordelia Chase had the kind of figure that no fifteen-year-old girl truly had the right to have.

"And what are you two up to?"

Scrambling off the windowsill guiltily at the amused voice of Mrs Harris, Alexander and Jesse exchanged glances. They had had contingency ideas about what they were going to use as their excuse, but neither could remember which excuse they had decided on as the final one.

"Uh..."

"Well..."

"We weren't watching the girls next door," Jesse said, hopefully.

Mrs Harris smiled slightly. "I'm sure you weren't," She looked like she was about to say something else, when she suddenly went rigid, her eyes widening. The colour flooded from her cheeks and she leaned heavily against the doorframe. "Oh..."

"Mom?" Alexander took a step forward, eyeing her with concern. "Are you okay?"

Mrs Harris nodded once, stiffly. "Yes...yes, I'm fine," Straightening up, she smiled, although it looked strangely forced to her son. "There are some brownies on the table downstairs, if you want them."

"Brownies? Neat!" Jesse raced out the door and pounded down the stairs.

Alexander followed more slowly, pausing to look down at his mother. In the last year, he had shot up in height and was already taller than her. "Are you sure you're okay, mom?"

She didn't speak, just jerked her chin up and down several times. "You go...enjoy the brownies," her voice sounded hoarse, almost as if she was in pain.

Reluctantly, her son started down the stairs, but he still turned and looked over his shoulder in time to see his delicate mother walk stiffly into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

***

Snape wanted to leave.

He wanted to be anywhere except the place he was.

Standing on the edges of the room, he was trying to ignore what was going on in front of him, his instinct to protect his pupils driving him insane, especially in the circumstances that they were in now.

Hogsmeade was no longer as safe as Professor Dumbledore had assumed it to be and this particular...ploy had been one that Snape had known nothing about, until it was too late to prevent it from happening.

During the Hogsmeade weekend, several days before, one of the Death Eaters had managed to grab the girl, as she waited for her friends, outside one of the small shops on the outskirts of the village.

Using a port-key, the Death Eater and his victim had vanished from the scene before anyone could even think to raise an alarm, the girl's disappearance sending waves of panic through the `good' wizarding world.

It hadn't been enormously well-planned, the idea being that faith in Dumbledore would dissipate, should one of his precious pupils be snatched from beneath his very long and crooked nose.

Now, the unfortunate pupil of choice was cowering at the centre of the circle of Death Eaters, her robes hanging in tatters. She was sobbing in fear, her arms raised above her head to fend off more blows.

Despite all the magical capabilities wizards had, Snape was the first to notice they loved physical violence as much as the worst muggle.

"Enough."

From behind the black and silver velvet drapes that hung down behind the throne, Voldemort emerged smoothly. He certainly knew how to make a dramatic entrance, the room falling silently instantly.

"We have a young guest, I see," He studied the whimpering girl, who was trying her best to make herself as small as possible.

Snape felt a pang of fury. Part of him wished he could draw his wand and kill the poor child, before she ended up being used for entertainment for the pack of laughing Death Eaters.

"P-please...don't hurt me..."

Voldemort glided towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. She seemed unable to tear her rude stare away, shivering so violently that her teeth were clattering together. "Who said that I had any intention of harming you, child?"

Wisely, she made no reply, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Rise," he commanded quietly. Shaking so violently she could barely keep her footing, the young witch-in-training managed to get to her feet and swayed where she stood, clutching her ragged robes around her. "Let me see your face."

The tear-stained and dirty face was lifted to him. He studied her intently for a long moment, raising his wands and touching it to her brow. The witch looked like she was about to faint from terror.

"Eradico," The dirt and tears seemed to spring from her features, leaving her pale cheeks clean, shining and pink from the force of the spell that cleaned them. "Ah, my dear, now I remember you..."

Brown eyes stared at him. "No..."

"Of course, you don't remember me like this..." With a casual sweep of his wand, a simple glamour spell meant that Voldemort's features were masked with the features he had been born with, as Tom Riddle. "Is this better?"

The young witch gasped, staring at him. "T-Tom?"

"Yes, Ginny," His thin hand came up and cupped her chin tenderly. Ginny Weasley recoiled, shuddering, but the Dark Lord maintained the facade, pulling a look of hurt onto his human face. "Ginny, what is it?"

"Get away from me...get away..." She started to back away, but was blocked by two large Death Eaters.

Voldemort held out a hand to her, playing the part of the spurned lover astoundingly well. "What did I do, Ginny? Don't you remember how much I cared about you? How much we talked...?"

At the sidelines, Snape felt physically sick watching. He knew what Voldemort was doing. He had seen the manipulations of the Dark lord far too many times and he knew that he was incapable of stopping it.

The fifteen-year-old witch was shaking her head despairingly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Ginny, please...I don't know what happened...someone possessed me..."

"Stop it...you're not him..."

"But I am, Ginny...and I still care for you...you know I do..." Ginny shook her head, her sobs becoming audible. It was clear that she had held a great deal of affection for the `Tom' she had known, four years earlier.

After all, Tom Riddle was definitely a handsome boy. His vivid poison-green eyes and mop of unruly black hair caused a striking resemblance between him and Potter, which Voldemort was clearly manipulating.

"Please...don't..."

"All I want to do is take care of you, Ginny," Motioning for fresh robes from the other Death Eaters, Voldemort wrapped the thick material around her shoulders with a display of deceptive gentleness.

"Let me go home," she croaked, her struggle to pull free from him and the warm, soft robes growing more feeble by the minute.

"I can't, Ginny...they won't let me do that..." He shot a look around at the group, which the girl would probably interpret as anger, but they saw the malevolent glee glittering in his red-tinted green eyes.

Sagging against him, sobbing, Ginny allowed herself to be navigated towards his bed chamber, out of sight, the Dark Lord's arms wrapped around the girl almost as if he truly did care for her.

If there was something Voldemort excelled in, it was the art of persuasion. Within days, it was practically guaranteed that the Dark Lord would get the required effects, without having to resort to any magic on his victim.

Snape lowered his eyes, trying not to think about it.

All he could do was prepare Hogwarts for the worst.

***

The door of the dungeon crashed open, causing the Potions Master to look up, in time to get punched across the face by a sixth year boy.

The force of the blow caught him off-guard and he staggered back against the bench he was working at, knocking over his small cauldron, boiling liquid searing the skin of his arm.

"What did you do that for?" Ronald Weasley demanded furiously. "You just left her there, you bastard!"

Bringing up a hand to massage his throbbing cheek, Snape studied the boy, whose face was almost as red with fury as his hair was on a regular basis. "Had this been any other circumstance, Weasley, I would have had you expelled."

"But I have a damn good excuse this time, you slimy prick," Weasley snarled, his hands balled into fists by his sides. "That...thing has my little sister and you just left her there!"

"You expect me to walk in, collect her from the Dark Lord and return with her? If it's that easy, I'm sure you would be much better at rescues than you could be under my tuition," The Potions Master wondered just how angry the boy would get.

Ron's face purpled with rage and he grabbed the front of Snape's robes, shaking him savagely. "She's just a kid! You abandoned a fifteen-year-old girl with him! How can you live with yourself?"

"I did what I had to. I do not need to make excuses to angry children."

Gritting his teeth, Snape allowed another savage punch to catch him across the face, the boy visibly shaking with outrage. He knew the boy needed some kind of catharsis, before he could speak to him logically.

"You didn't want to help her, did you?" The boy's voice was ringing off the domed ceiling of the dark dungeon and the Potions Master was surprised that no one had come to see what all the noise was about. "Because she's a Weasley! Because she's not one of your precious Slytherins!"

"That is NOT the case, Weasley," Snape snarled dangerously. "I would do the same for any pupil!"

"What? Leave them to rot?" Weasley yelled.

"Would you prefer me to bring her back dead?" Snape hissed.

That seemed to hit home, the hands gripping the front of Snape's robes loosening, as the boy sagged, his face crumpling with grief. "She's my baby sister," he moaned in despair. "My little sister...and I can't help her."

Much to his own surprise, Snape put his arms around the boy, as Ron Weasley let the sobs come forth, his shoulders heaving with the violence of his self-hatred at his inability to help his only sister.

"You couldn't know it would happen, boy," Snape murmured soothingly, his silky voice a wonderfully calming influence when he chose to make it so. "You wouldn't have been able to prevent it, any more than I could."

Gradually, the sobs faded and - somewhat embarrassed - Ron let himself be directed to one of the vacant stools, beside the bench, as Snape moved to the gargoyle tap and sloshed icy water over the blister that was forming nicely on his hand.

"Why couldn't you stop it?" Ron asked carefully, as if expecting a punishment for his behaviour of moments before.

Dabbing the burn with some lotion from a bottle, Snape's black eyes flicked to Ron and he sighed, "You wouldn't understand it, boy," He winced, studying the blister. "I doubt I even understand it."

"But he won't kill her...?" The desperate hope in the boy's shaking voice made Snape's heart wrench.

"I can't be sure, Weasley," He turned his back on the boy to restart the potion, but it was mainly because he couldn't face looking the hopeful youth in the eyes. "He may try to take her to the dark side."

"Not Ginny. She would never."

The bone-headed stubbornness of the Weasley boy made Snape smile slightly. He didn't want to be the one to remind the boy that only four years previously, his sister had accidentally given herself over to the dark side without realising.

"There is always a possibility that he will let her go."

"There...there is? I thought he..." Ron trailed off.

This time, he knew had to face the boy with the truth. Turning, he caught Ron's eyes with his. "It all depends," he said gravely. "on what You-Know-Who has done to or with them. Sometimes, those who are returned prefer to die anyway..."

"Not Ginny," Ron whispered.

"Be sure to let her know that, if she returns," the Potions Master suggested in a quiet voice. "Give her a reason to want to live."

The boy looked down at his fists, which were clenched on his knees, and nodded slowly. Then, he did something that Snape never expected. He stood and held out a hand to the Professor. Snape hesitantly grasped the boy's hand in his own.

"Thank you," Ron stated firmly.

"For what?"

The flame-haired boy shrugged. "I don't know," he honestly answered. "For telling me the truth, I s'pose," His eyes scanned the blooming bruises on Snape's jaw. "And for letting me hit you...it...kind of helped."

A weary smile crossed Snape's face. "You're welcome, Weasley, only..." He gave Ron a subtle look, as they parted their hands.

"Don't worry," Ron said gruffly, stuffing his hands quickly into his pockets. "I'm not about to go running off to tell Harry and Hermione that I cried on the Potions Master's robes," He smiled weakly. "Thanks for that as well, though."

"And you, Weasley." Snape bowed his head slightly. "You reminded me that what I'm doing is still worth fighting for."

That said, he turned back to his work and Weasley turned and walked out of the dungeon, silence the only thing left between them.

***

It as almost three months since Ginny's capture.

The Ministry had given up on the search several weeks earlier, none of them having the faintest idea where to start looking, although the rest of the Weasley family had continued their fruitless search for their youngest member.

Snape had been left to watch over the girl, who now shared a bed Voldemort - or Tom as she still called him. Despite the fact that she had been manipulated into a relationship with the Dark Lord, she was still terrified of the Death Eaters.

Perhaps, he mused, watching her clutching blankets around her fearfully as he paced the bed chamber, it was because she saw Tom Riddle's face, instead of the true face of the Dark Lord and the masks of the Death Eaters.

She had turned sixteen during her captivity, something that the Dark Lord had seen as significant. He had toyed with her up until that moment, then - as she reached her first coming of age - seduced her with soft words of affection and tenderness.

Ginny - Snape could see it in her haunted eyes - was falling desperately in love with the gentle illusion of love the Voldemort had presented her with.

It was hardly surprising, considering the particular conditions she was being held under, isolated in the grim, black-walled halls of Voldemort's home and visited only by mocking, frightening figures in cloaks and masks.

For her to take comfort from the only kind and `maskless' face in their number, the young man who treated her with gentle affection, it was impossible for any lost girl not to fall in love with the handsome wizard.

Normally, she stayed hidden away when Voldemort greeted his followers, her fear of them palpable from the next room. That was the only time he unmasked his face, so she would only ever see him as Tom.

Up until this day, he had never left her in his home, but he believed he had enough control over her and, leaving Snape, he and the rest of the Death Eaters had gone on a muggle hunt, for some entertainment.

He knew she would be waiting for him to return.

And Snape knew from that that Voldemort was almost ready to break the child.

Snape ceased pacing and sat down in a large, elaborate silvery chair near the drapes that led into the main hall of the Lair. From behind his mask, he studied the girl crouched on the bed.

He had considered trying to spirit her out, but Voldemort had placed some additional spells around the darkened chambers - with both Snape and Ginny surreptitiously watching - which would kill anyone who tried to depart without permission.

The Potions Master tapped his fingertips together. Even if he had tried, he knew that Ginny wouldn't go anywhere unless her precious Tom told her to do so and he really didn't want to frighten her anymore than he had to.

"Are you hungry, child?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. The girl shook her head vehemently. "Cold?" Again, she only shook her head and he stood up with an impatient sigh, striding towards the bed.

"Don't hurt me!" She scrambled back across the covers, slamming back against the headboard. "Tom told you to leave me alone...he said so..."

Snape sat down on the end of the broad bed, not going any closer to her. "I'm not going to hurt you, child. I would never dream of doing such a thing," he said softly, trying to catch her eyes with his.

Withdrawing his wand, he tried to ignore her whimper of terror, and conjured a plate of food and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Ginny stared at it, her brown eyes huge and suspicious. "Wh-what's that for?" she demanded hoarsely.

"It's for you, child. You haven't eaten."

The girl laughed, high and strained, her expression wild. "How do I know that you haven't done something to it? You might have poisoned it! You might have because Tom told you to leave me alone!"

"Do you want proof, child?" He took a little of the warm, soft bread and chewed it.

Before he had even swallowed it, the girl had scrambled across the bed, the thick hot chocolate splashing onto the covers as she neared, grabbing the bread from his hand and devouring it as if she hadn't seen food in months.

Gulping down the hot chocolate, she cleared the dish of food in minutes, keeping a soft roll gripped tightly in her hands.

Scrambling back to the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest, the flimsy nightshirt she was wearing doing little to disguise her figure, she nibbled on the roll, staring anxiously at Snape.

"Why did you do that?" she asked shakily.

"You looked hungry."

Ginny blinked at him, as if trying to comprehend this strange kindness from a dark and frightening creature that - to her - represented pain and torment. Shivering, her hands held up in front of her chest, she stared at him. "Wh-who are you?"

"No one in particular," he answered quietly. "No one to be proud of."

She squinted a him, as if this response had puzzled her, then returned to chewing on her roll. Snape remained where he was, watching her frantic, scared movements, until they heard the sound of voices from the next room.

Ginny all but flew off the bed.

"Tom!"

Reluctantly following her through the drapes, Snape saw the girl crash straight into the disguised Voldemort's arms, his throat constricting at the cruel expression on Riddle's face, his bloody hands pushing Ginny back from him.

It was time, he knew.

Now, they would find out just how strong the poor child really was.

***

"Shit..." Snape nodded. Sitting on a crate opposite him, Ethan shook his head, his face looking drawn and haggard by the light of the wands. "He really is a sick bastard, isn't he?"

"I think that goes without saying."

"Poor kid," The sandy-haired wizard stared down at his hands, curled in white-knuckled fists in his lap. "At least she's back in the safety of her friends and family now... that's a good thing." He saw the look on Snape's face. "Isn't it?"

"Think about it, Ethan," the Potions Master's voice shook. "You're convinced this one individual loves you. You share all kinds of secrets with them and then, just when you think you can't love them even a fraction more, they take your heart and smash it into irreparable pieces," He raised black eyes to Ethan's. "He broke her heart and made her feel as worthless as one person can feel. She was used in the worst way by the Dark Lord. She feels like she's worth less than dirt."

"I can safely say I've been there, done that and burned the T-shirt," Ethan muttered grimly. "What can be done to help her?"

"We don't know," Snape admitted wearily. "She's back at Hogwarts, because that really is the safest place she can be at the moment," He studied his hands. "They're taking care of her and trying to help her."

"But they don't know what they're dealing with," Ethan finished. He sighed. "I think there's only a few people in the world who have felt like she does now, thanks to You-Know-Who."

"And you're one of them?"

Green eyes blazed briefly, but the flare of wariness faded and Ethan nodded. "It took me months before I could sleep through the night without waking up in the middle of a nightmare."

"Do you have any suggestions about how we could help her?"

Ethan's lips straightened in a thin smile. "Don't let her anywhere near poisons or anything that might be able to kill her," he answered, his expression one of deadly seriousness. "If she hates herself as much as I hated myself after just one night, then suicide will seem like a relief."

"I'll let Dumbledore know."

"The sooner the better," Ethan nodded, digging into his pocket and pulling out a scrap of paper. "But, if you need to get in contact with me and can't get me through the fire, in case of an emergency," Snape didn't need to ask what `emergency' meant and took the paper, which had a number scribbled on it. "It's a muggle phone number. Get to a town with a phone and dial it. I'll be here as soon as possible."

"What could you possibly do?"

Ethan studied the potions master for a long moment, then answered slowly. "If I can manage to arrange it, I'll try and get the girl to talk to the one person who has suffered as much as she has."

Snape went pale. "You can't mean you'll bring Bones to her..."

"No. Nothing as dramatic as that," Ethan glanced around, as if checking the walls weren't listening. "You'll get old Dumble's permission to take the girl to a specialist and we'll meet halfway, in a no-man's-land."

"Do you think we'll have to resort to that?" When Ethan made no reply, his jaw tightening, Snape nodded. "If the worst comes to the worst, I'll get in touch and we'll see what can be done."

"Thanks, Sev."

"Take care, all right?"

"And you."

Two pops sounded and the basement was empty and dark once again.

***

Standing in the hospital wing, over the bed of the girl, Dumbledore's brow was lined with grief and concern. The room was silent, the high curtains pulled around the bed to shield it from prying eyes.

The Weasley family had just been ushered out of the medical wing by Madam Pomfrey, Molly Weasley sobbing in despair at the sight of her little girl looking so still and weak.

Little Ginny Weasley had somehow got hold of poison.

She had been hiding in the lower parts of the dungeons, in the darkness, and had been found just in time by the Potions Master, who seemed to instinctively know that she needed help.

Snape had scooped the fragile young woman up in his arms, shouting at a house elf to fetch Dumbledore, running to his own class room and rapidly brewing the antidote for whatever it was she had taken.

He had been in the process of forcing the glutinous black liquid down her throat when Professor Dumbledore had reached the dungeon. The sight was one that the Head Master hoped he would never have to see again, the girl thrashing on the work bench, as she tried to escape Snape's purgative potion.

Fortunately, she was too weak to fend him off, the potion doing its work, and within minutes, the poison she had taken erupted from her mouth in a burst of mouldy-looking fluid.

She had then collapsed on the bench and Snape had said nothing, as he gathered her up and followed the silent Head Master towards the hospital wing, Ginny Weasley limp in his arms.

Dumbledore heard footfalls beyond the drapes.

"Head master?" As soon as the Weasleys had arrived, Snape had departed, but now that they were gone, he had come back to the medical wing, slipping through the curtains to stand alongside Dumbledore.

"I never imagined she would be so desperately shattered," Blue eyes rested on the motionless girl. "She's lucky that you found her, Severus, and that you knew what she had taken."

"Luck had nothing to do with it, Head Master. I was warned she may react like this."

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "What do you suggest we do? After all, you seem to have more knowledge of these situations than I."

A closed look crossed Snape's face, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "I have heard of someone who...may help," he said, wondering if his voice sounded as rigid to Dumbledore as it did to him. "I would have to take her to this...associate secretly."

"I'm sure we can arrange it, Severus."

Snape felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his thin shoulders. It was just like the Head Master, to respect him and what he believed would help, where everyone else would simply believe he was bluffing.

"I would have to contact the middle-man."

"Of course."

"And no one could know about it."

"I understand entirely," Dumbledore gave the Potions Master a faint smile. "If you can do anything salvage this poor child's mind from the darkness, I would gladly give my right arm to help."

Snape nodded. "Thank you, Head Master. I'll arrange it as soon as possible."

***

"P-Professor Snape?"

Snape was seated beside the bed of the youngest Weasley and looked up when her hoarse voice spoke his name. "Miss Weasley," He smiled slightly. "It's a relief to see you are conscious again."

"You stopped me," she whispered, tears brimming in her brown eyes.

"Death did not deserve you, child," he said softly. "Just as Riddle did not."

Ginny eyes widened in fear. "You...you were there!" she gasped, trying to shakily back away across the bed, but still too weak to do so.

Snape didn't move, gazing at her. "I was, Miss Weasley," he admitted. "I wish I had been able to prevent what he did to you, but - unfortunately - he is still more powerful than I am."

"Wh-what do you want from me? Why did you stop me?" she demanded, the suspicion returning to her dark, haunted eyes. She had stopped trying to move away, though, staring at his face intently.

"I want to help you, child," One of his thin hands came out and hesitantly covered hers. She shuddered, but - he noticed with relief - she didn't pull away. "Will you allow me to do so?"

"How?"

Wondering how much he should reveal to the girl, he looked down at his hand, which was still covering hers. "I have a...an associate, who knows someone, who was put through a similar ordeal as you. He would have you meet her."

"And...and she's alive?"

"I would hope so," Snape actually smiled. "It would be rather...unpleasant to have you meet a zombie," To his surprise, the girl laughed weakly, her fingers contracting lightly around his. "Would you allow me to take you to her?"

"A-all right," she whispered.

***

Cassandra stared out at the open sea, the setting sun washing her with it's warm golden light. Why she had been told to come to this meeting she knew, but why it was being held on the West side of the Seychelles, she didn't.

Not that she minded.

Clad in a aqua coloured bikini and matching sarong, she closed her eyes, inhaling the salty tang of the sea air, which was tainted with just enough of the tropical scents, making her smile.

Her toes dug into the soft, white sand of the beach, her almost waist-length hair hanging around her shoulders.

It felt so wonderful to be out of the darkness of the Hellmouth and free like this, knowing that this Island was one of the only places in the World where no witch or wizard resided.

Her son was staying at Jesse's house, so she didn't even have him to worry about.

A crackle from behind her caught her attention and she turned, a broad smile coming to her lips instantly. "Ethan!" Scrambling onto her feet, she ran towards the sandy-haired wizard, who caught her in a tight embrace. "I missed you."

"Likewise, Skeleton," He buried his face in the curly mass of her hair and inhaled deeply. "You smell just like I remembered you smelling," he mumbled, his voice muffled by her mane.

"And how's that?"

"Of rotten eggs and dung bombs," He grinned, holding her at arm's length to study her, almost forgetting about the pair behind him, who were watching the reunion with interest. "God, Cass, you look good."

"I look a helluva lot older, Ethan," she replied. It was true. The return of the Dark Lord had aged her, the constant worry about what was happening in the wizarding world concerning her more than ever.

"Still look great to me, Cassie," He claimed a brief, hard kiss, then hugged her to him again, his eyes burning with tears. "I missed you so bloody much." Sniffing hard, she nodded her agreement.

"Ahem?"

The couple shook themselves, drawing their attention back to the other pair on the deserted strip of beach. Snape was standing, in his regulation robes, one hand on the shoulder of a wisp of a girl, who was staring fearfully at Cassandra.

"You!" The blonde woman stepped back at the sight of Snape, the panic in her eyes similar to what he had initially seen in Ginny's. She looked up at Ethan questioningly. "What's he doing here?"

"I had to bring our friend here," Snape replied softly, inclining his head towards the silent girl beside him. "Dumbledore trusted me to take care of her."

Cassandra's brown eyes narrowed warily, then she turned her attention to the flame-haired girl standing beside the Potions Master. Like him, she was wearing robes that were clutched around her body.

Her face looked gaunt, her dark brown eyes seemed enormous, filled with fear and shame. Dark circles ringed them, as well as the redness that suggested that she had been crying a lot.

The grim expression in the older witch's eyes softened immediately. "Oh God... you poor child..." She opened her arms and - much to the surprise of the two wizards - the little witch ran forward, sobbing as she was gathered in Cassandra's arms.

Without even having to be asked, the girl sobbed out everything that had happened: Riddle's words of love, the way he had taken care of her, the way he kissed her and promised everything would be all right.

She faltered, before continuing to the day that he had betrayed her: he called her a slut who wasn't even worthy of being touched by him, he slapped her and told her she could rot, laughing as she begged him to say it wasn't true.

Her voice shook as she spoke about finding out a poison she could make out of the supplies she had and sneaking to the dungeon to take it, only for Snape to find her and save her life.

By the time she stopped talking, Cassandra was weeping as bitterly as the girl, the child the same age as Cassandra's own son.

"I-I just feel so stupid...so dirt and horrible..."

Cassandra nodded against the girl's tangled hair. "I felt the same way as you do now, Ginny," she said quietly. "He used me, as he used you, and told me that he would spare my family. When I escaped, I got home to find they were dead already..."

"He-he killed your family?" Ginny's face paled. Even the freckles on her cheeks seemed to whiten.

"My parents and my brother," Cassandra confirmed, one hand smoothing the girl's wind-mussed hair. "I thought it was all my fault. That I was so stupid to have believed him. I should have refused to let him touch me."

"Why...why did he want you?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"He wanted an Heir and he wanted me to be the one to bear it for him," Cassandra didn't even hesitate before answering, Snape and Ethan both groaning as she said the words aloud.

Ginny seemed to mull over the words, staring at Cassandra's face. "Did he get an heir?" she asked.

In turn, the older witch studied the red head's face, then she nodded. "He did, but he has never seen him."

"Cass..."

"Shut up, Ethan."

"But..."

"And you, Snape," Her eyes remained locked on the girl's. "I'm trusting you not to tell anyone this, Ginny," she smoothed a curl back from the girl's face. "I know you have suffered a lot, because of that bastard and you had to know why these two idiots thought I would be the right person to talk to you."

The girl nodded. "Is...is he like..."

"You-Know-Who?" Cassandra shook his head. "Not at all. He's about the same age as you and one of his closest friends..." She smiled slightly at the thought of red-haired Willow. "She's a lot like you."

"How..." Ginny swallowed hard, trying to face asking the question. "How did you stop feeling dirty?"

"It took a long time," Cassandra continued to stroke the girl's hair gently. "I tried to wash myself until it went away, but that didn't work," Ginny nodded. She had done the same, she said. "It wasn't until a friend found me and took care of me and showed me that I wasn't dirty and useless, like I thought," Her eyes flicked to Ethan, a small smile reaching her lips. "He's the only one who I could tell everything and he didn't care that I felt too dirty for him to come near me. He ignored me saying I wasn't worthy of being friends with him. He took me in his arms and just let me cry."

"And it stopped hurting?"

"That took a long time, too, but one day, you'll feel worth something again," Her eyes lifted to Snape. "If someone is willing to help you and to support you."

"But I-I can't tell my friends...they'd be afraid of me..."

Cassandra's eyes found the girl's. "That's what I believed, but Ethan showed me I was wrong. It took a while, but I finally started to believe him," She nodded towards Snape. "And if you need to talk someone who knows what it's like to hate yourself, I would suggest he would be a good start."

Snape started. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't," Cassandra said quietly. "You better take damn good care of her, Severus."

The Potions Master nodded. "If she wants me to."

Ginny looked up at him. "You...you looked after me in there...and when he sent me back...and when I...when I tried to kill myself," she sniffed softly. "You know what happened to me...no one else does..."

"Do I see the beginnings of a dubious friendship?" Ethan forced a smile.

The younger witch stared up at Snape, a strange expression in her eyes. "You...you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not, child," He said softly. "Should you need someone who you wish to talk to, simply let me know and I will give you sufficient detentions to keep you in my class." Ginny almost giggled again. "There, child, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"You never cease to surprise me, Sev," Ethan remarked quietly. He glanced at his watch, grimacing. "But now, I think we need to break up this little party. I, for one, have a full time job to uphold."

Cassandra brushed her fingers through Ginny's hair once more. "You'll be all right, little one?" The girl nodded. "Should you want to talk to me again, let Professor Snape know and he'll contact me, through Ethan and I'll see what I can do."

Impulsively throwing her arms around the blonde witch's neck, hot tears spilled down Ginny's cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're more than welcome, little one," Returning the genuine embrace, Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut to stem her own tears. "Just remember that you're not what he said you are. You're so much better than that."

Parting, the two witches exchanged strained smiles, then Snape held out a hand to Ginny, who took it without hesitation.

"We'll be in touch," Snape said, before picking up the dirty bottle that had served as a port-key from Hogwarts, leaving Ethan and Cassandra standing side-by-side on the deserted beach.

Shivering slightly, the sun long gone, Cassandra looked up at Ethan. "So, you were saying you had to get to work?" she smiled slightly as he gathered her to him, his arms warm around her body.

"I lied."

She pretended to be shocked. "That was naughty!"

"What can I say?" he murmured before he kissed her. "I'm a rebel."

All right, before the flaming begins for child abuse, let me please remind you that I am from the United Kingdom (Britain). Harry Potter and Company are also from Britain and the stories are set here.

The age of consent in this country is sixteen years of age, therefore, Lord Voldemort could legally seduce Ginny as soon as she reached the age of sixteen, which she did in this story. Therefore, going by the laws of MY country, I have done nothing vaguely illegal with these characters.

The reason I wanted to use Ginny Weasley because she did have the connection with Tom Riddle as is mentioned. She also has a fragility that I thought could be useful later in the story, so I wanted someone very dissimilar to Cassandra, who is a very strong individual as Ethan has noticed.

The only reason that I had to use her at the age of sixteen (please appreciate that I did not resort to child abuse, because I made certain to have her turn sixteen before anything intimate happened), instead of waiting until she is eighteen is because I already have those chapters planned out and it wouldn't fit with the storyline.

Hopefully, I haven't offended anyone.

If I have, please remember Voldemort is a nasty, naughty and evil wizard, who likes to destroy innocent lives and the muggle laws are beneath him, so it isn't my fault that he's a randy old pervert.

Honestly.