Heir Of Voldemort

Set - a short time after chapter eight (Around October 1998)

Notes: This chapter was written, test-read, then utterly re-written because it truly did suck in a storyline sense and then, it was lovingly hacked up because it was just so bloody large - first draft was around 28 pages, re-write 27 and counting without even being close to finishing. Can we say ouch? And people wonder why I have no social life, when I get something like this in my head.

Anyway, it had to be split into three separate chapters, with a couple of extras added to make the series a nice round 20 chapters in total (I like having round numbers, even if it gives me more work) so this is the first of the three and things are rapidly getting more and more uncomfortable in the wizarding World.

Also, while I remember - this story is basic - you want good, read that of Echo. I bow in awe to that wonderful epic! Plus, yummy Cranky Pants features, so no complaints from me. Also, thanks to Kat and Kristian for tolerating my inane babbling when I truly thought this chapter would never EVER be finished.

AND - since I keep forgetting to do this- DISCLAIMER! None of this story is mine. Not a thing. Not even Cassandra, who I got from a plot bunny someone gave me. I just play with them all. Wish it was. Would be nice to be a millionaire...

_________________________

Preparing dinner for her family, Molly Weasley hummed to herself. Potatoes were boiling merrily in the pan on the stove, the savoury smells of roasting meat wafting out of the oven.

The fire was crackling in the hearth and she glanced at the clock that stood in the living room, but was visible from the empty kitchen. Arthur, Bill Charlie and Percy were all at work, while Fred and George were in the position classed as `Leisure´.

The two youngest were still at school, no doubt.

She returned to her cooking, adding some more salt to the potatoes with her wand and conjuring up a simmering pan of thick gravy.

A ding from the clock suggested that someone was on their way home.

She looked around to see who it was, only to find Arthur and Percy both standing in the doorway of the living room. Percy looked shaken and pale and Arthur´s face was as white as a sheet.

Crossing the kitchen floor, he grabbed his wife in a tight embrace, startling her.

"Arthur, what...?" she managed to croak.

She felt a shaking breath get exhaled next to her ear. "Dumbledore, Molly..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. She pulled back, staring up at him, her wand slipping from her hand as she met his eyes. "You-Know-Who...he got to the school..."

"No..." Arthur´s hands were resting on her shoulders and she noticed absently that they were shaking. And that tears were spilling down her face. Her eyes flicked to Percy, who was hugging himself and looked on the verge of tears.

"Word..." Arthur drew a steadying breath, still gripping her shoulders. "Word just came in from Minerva...from the school..." He took several more breaths, swallowing hard. "They...he was in his office...You-Know-Who had used polyjuice... got into the school...to the office..."

"That´s not right," Molly whispered, staring up at him, shaking her head slowly. "It isn´t right, Arthur...it can´t be right...there must be a mistake...he...he might have just been sleeping...mightn´t he?" The desperate hope in his wife´s voice caused tears to well up in his eyes again and he pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. She continued to whisper despairingly, "Not right...not right at all..."

"M-mum?" Percy´s shaking voice made them break apart and she found her third son standing at her elbow, his eyes looking huge in his pale face. He sounded like he did, when he had woken from a nightmare as a child. Only this nightmare wasn´t one that was about to end. "Dumbledore...he´s really g-gone, isn´t he, mummy?"

Unable to word her response, she gathered one of her full-grown boys in her arms, pressing her eyes shut the stem her fresh tears as he seemed to go limp, sobbing bitterly on her shaking shoulder.

Another ding from the living room was echoed by Bill´s voice.

"The filthy bastard can´t get away with this. Not doing that to old Dumbledore," he shouted savagely, storming through into the kitchen, where his parents and brother were. Slamming the new edition of the Daily Prophet on the table, he sent a furious look at his father. "They say the Ministry isn´t going after him, dad. Is it true?"

Arthur nodded wordlessly.

"Those god-damned political arsewipes!" his eldest son snarled angrily. "Dumble was the one who held this World together and they aren´t even going to try and stop the one who did it! This is why he became so bloody powerful last time! No one did a single bloody thing to stop him when they had the chance!"

"Bill, it isn´t that simple," Arthur tried to say, but his eldest was having none of it.

"You know what?" Pointing a finger from his father to his mother, Bill continued doggedly. "I bet Fudge is working for You-Know-Who! I bet he´s the one who said that no vengeance was to be taken, because it would hurt his master!"

"William Weasley!" his father´s voice rose angrily. "How dare you say such a thing about the Minister of Magic!"

"Don´t you William me, dad! You know what Fudge is like!"

Arthur Weasley stepped up to his son, standing on level height with him. "I know that he has made some serious errors in judgement in the past, William, but would you have him send a troop of Aurors off on a suicide vengeance mission?"

"If it stops You-Know-Who, yes!" Bill´s face was scarlet with rage. "After what he did to Ginny, how can you even think about letting them sit on their hands and do sod all, dad? I thought you..."

"Stop it!" The cry came from Percy, jerking out of Molly´s arms. His usually-perfect hair was mussed, his glasses askew, but he stared at his brother despairingly. "Just stop it! This isn´t going to help!"

"What would you know, Perce?" Bill demanded fiercely, rounding on his younger brother. "You work behind a desk, doing exactly what you´re told, kissing all those fancily-robed arses and hoping you´ll get promoted!"

"William!" To her husband´s surprise, Molly slapped her son across the face. Bill was stunned, too, raising a hand to his cheek. "Don´t you ever speak to your brother like that again, do you hear me?" Her finger was pointed at him warningly. "This is just what You-Know-Who wanted to happen, don´t you see?"

"But, mum..."

"No buts, William," Her tone softened a little "We´re all a little on edge now..." She gathered him in her arms and hugged him tightly. Bill nodded against her shoulder, swallowing hard. Pushing him back a little, she framed his strained face with her small hands. "We are going to get through this, you know. We always do."

"Molly," Arthur´s voice shook and she followed his line of sight. He was staring into the living room. "What about Ginny?" He asked, pointing to the clock that stood on the far side of the room.

More importantly, he was pointing at the hand that read `Virginia´, which was moving rapidly around the face from `School´ to `Mortal peril´...

***

Running down the darkened corridors, tears streaming down her face, Ginny covered her ears with her shaking hands, trying to block out the words that her own classmates had said to her.

Stumbling through the dimly-lit passages that led to the dungeons, the air getting colder by the second, she briefly ducked into Professor Snape´s empty chambers, the continued onwards, pulling her robes tightly around her as she almost tripped on a long flight of stairs.

Did they all think she was the one who had helped You-Know-Who in?

She couldn´t think of him as Tom anymore, not after what had happened.

She had been one of the first to find out, when Harry - almost carrying the sobbing Hermione - had climbed through the portrait hole and into the room, his own eyes swimming with tears.

Then, her classmates had returned.

Grief had rapidly turned into bitterness and malicious anger.

Fingers were quick to be pointed at the frightened girl who had been You-Know-Who´s prisoner for almost four months the year before and yet, she had managed to come back physically unscathed from her experience.

How, they had asked, had she come back without so much as a mark on her?

She hadn´t explained, couldn´t find the nerve to admit it, couldn´t find the voice to say it, backing away as they crowded in on her, her brother and Hermione nowhere to be seen to aid her.

Accusations had flown thick and fast and she had run to the portrait hole, flinging herself out and running as fast her feet could carry her, determined to get away. Away from the memories of Tom, of what he had done to her, from the faces, the voices...

Voldemort´s Whore...

That´s what they had called her...

Her foot caught on a loose stone and she yelped as the floor gave way into a flight of stairs, which she tumbled down, crying out in pain as she crashed in a heap on the stone floor at the base.

Scrambling to her feet, her right ankle almost going out from beneath her with a lancing pain, she tottered onwards, determined to get as far as she could from the main part of the school.

No one would stop her this time.

She would be finished with it.

This was the one way that she could guarantee to wipe away all of their vicious taunts, their cruel, angry words, the memories of her ordeal at Lord Voldemort´s hands, the dreams...

No more dreams of Tom seducing her, then making her do terrible things to her fellow pupils.

No more waking from nightmares in which she had a knife - sharp and deadly - slicing into the bodies of her family as Tom applauded and told her she was showing her love for him.

No more waking, screaming, convinced that her face had assumed the snake-like features of Voldemort, believing that blood from her murders staining her arms up to the elbows, convinced she revelled in sharing Voldemort´s bed.

No more anything.

Panting, she came to a halt in a pillared hallway, cylindrical black columns of stone polished to a sheen, flaming torches flaring to life as she neared, hung in brackets on every second pillar.

The flickering flames in the torches reflected in the grim black stone made her shudder, memories washing over her of her imprisonment. The stone floor was also black, reminding her horribly of...there.

Limping between the pillars, she looked around warily.

As far as she could see, there was no one present.

Sinking down against the far wall at the end of the dark room, she reached into her cloak and withdrew a small bottle, studying it.

Ever since she had been befriended by Professor Snape, his supplies cupboard had always been left unattended when she was present. She was one of the people that he trusted not to steal his ingredients.

How wrong he was.

Removing the cork from the tiny glass vial, her nose wrinkled at the sour aroma that rose from the thick, dark green substance in the bottle. It had the texture of congealed oil and she knew it would probably taste as bad as it smelt.

Raising the bottle to her lips, she was about to swallow the fluid, when a calm, quiet voice spoke from above her.

"Are you sure that is wise, Miss Weasley?" the voice sounded so understanding, so sad and so genuinely concerned, Ginny reluctantly looked up. "Poison does tend to be awfully deadly, you know."

***

"Ginny! Oh, goodness, Ginny!" A plump, white-faced witch hurtled across the medical wing towards the bed that her only daughter lay in, tucked under white sheets and thick red blankets. Grabbing the sixteen-year-old in a fierce embrace, Molly felt her daughter´s convulsive shudder and held her tightly. It lasted but a moment, then Ginny was held back at arm´s length and given a shake. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I´m sorry, mum..." Brown eyes sought out Molly´s, both pairs as red-rimmed as one another´s. "I...everyone was saying such horrible things...about me...that it was me... and I was scared...and..." She turned her face away from her mother, her nose and eyes screwing up, silent tears leaking down her cheeks.

Wrapping her arms around her daughter again, Molly quashed all need for any other words, smiling tearfully as Ginny returned the hug.

Her little girl looked like a shadow of herself, her elfin face white and ghost-like, her brown eyes haunted as they had been the previous year. Blotches of colour on her cheeks showed that she had been crying a great deal.

That was what made Molly hurt the most: seeing one of her many precious children in such a state.

She had come to Hogwarts with Arthur, as soon as they had looked at the clock, and were clearly not the only parents, many arriving, taking their children and departing as quickly as possible.

By the time they arrived at the panic-stricken school, Ginny had already vanished from the common room, her classmates uncaring of where she was, so teachers were sent on a frantic search for her.

She was discovered in one of the lower dungeons by Hagrid, who had been ordered there by Snape, who had been on his way out of the school grounds and stopped to tell the gate-keeper what to do, before vanishing.

The flame-haired girl had been slumped against the carved black stone of the wall in a dead faint, a small bottle gripped in her hands, the contents of which seemed to be eating a hole in the stone floor.

Tenderly scooping the frail girl up, Hagrid had taken her straight to the hospital wing where her anxious parents waited, Molly sitting and sobbing, Arthur pacing back and forth in weary frustration.

McGonagall had been forced to stun Arthur, when Madam Pomfrey refused to let them into the wing, the red-haired wizard trying to charge the doors, determined to see his little girl.

Pomfrey had been adamant, though.

Ginny´s parents were told they would only be allowed in almost an hour after the girl had been brought, shortly after she had finally regained consciousness. One person briefly paused at her drapes before being taken off for treatment while her mother was permitted to enter.

At the edge of the medical wing, almost concealed from view and unnoticed by either of the Weasleys, that same figure sat silently, as horrific cuts on his arms were healed up by Madam Pomfrey´s potions.

The Hogwarts´ matron knew a little of what his employment entailed and if she had not, the Dark mark burned in his arm should have given her sufficient notice. As always, she had the responsibility of getting his body all back in one piece.

Mind was another matter.

Snape had been called to his `Master´ shortly after the body had been discovered and a new and...entertaining form of torment was awaiting him.

As soon as he arrived in Voldemort´s domain, he was handed a knife and told to join in with the ritual execution of several ministry wizards who had proved too strong for the Imperio curse.

His bared arms unfortunately coming a little too close to the other Death Eaters enthusiastic blades, while his had barely skimmed the flesh of their unfortunate victims, until said victims were already dead.

He would never be responsible for being the cause of death. Mutilating the body he could almost bear, but murdering the unfortunates in such a bloody, savage way, it was against his very nature.

Around a dozen of the higher Ministry officials had been snatched exactly at the moment that uproar had broken out, when the news of Professor Dumbledore´s death had reached them.

With various ministry workers vanishing to check that their loved ones were all right, no one noticed that a large number just disappeared as soon as a trusted fellow witch or wizard passed them by.

Port Keys and a new bi-apparation spell that Voldemort had developed were used to snatch the unfortunates, no one even aware of what was going on. It was done with such swiftness and secrecy that Snape doubt anyone would be aware of it.

Apparently, the rest of the ministry people who had been snatched - the ones who survived the butchering - had been sent back to their work places, bound solidly under the controlling curse, their leashes now held by Lord Voldemort.

Snape felt sick.

It had been so easy for the Dark Lord.

In less than half an hour, Voldemort´s greatest enemy had been wiped out by his own disguised hand and some of the top wizards in the Ministry were securely under his control.

Who, he wondered bitterly, would he report to now?

One of his allies was dead, another under the Dark Lord´s spell and the third... well, as she would no doubt find out, it was going to take a lot more to convince anyone in the Ministry of anything anymore.

Sighing, as Madam Pomfrey finished bandaging his hands, he leaned back against the wall behind him, his half-closed eyes drifting to the youngest Weasley, who was now - no doubt - receiving a lecture from her mother.

He remained where he was, watching the display of maternal concern and affection with absent fascination, wondering if he would have become the way he was, had his mother been more like Molly Weasley.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall slipped into the room and approached Mrs Weasley, apparently asking her to join her. Pressing a kiss to Ginny´s forehead, the plump witch hurried after Professor McGonogall.

Checking that Madam Pomfrey wasn´t about to run in and demand him lie down and rest, Snape glided across the floor, sitting down on the edge of Ginny Weasley´s bed, the girl´s eyes opening the moment he sat.

"P-Professor Snape."

"Severus, child," he said quietly. "You know that."

She nodded, looking away from him. "I-I´m sorry..."

"For what, child?" She shook her head, her hair tousled around her face, unable to reply, a tiny whimpering sound coming from her throat, as if she were about to burst into tears, but didn´t want to. "Oh, child," Opening his arms, he let her burrow into his chest. "It wasn´t your fault."

"Th-they all said it was."

"They don´t know what they are talking about, child," His hand smoothed her hair and he sighed. "They spoke in fear and anger. They have no one to strike out at, so they chose you, unfortunate child."

"It...its bad...its all bad..."

Placing a gentle kiss on top of her bowed head, Shape laid his cheek against her flaming hair. "I wish I could say something to reassure you, child," he said quietly, his voice sad. "I wish I could help you."

"I-I was really going to do it," she whispered shakily. Snape could feel her small fingers gripping against his back and soothingly rocked her. "I-I would have...if he hadn´t told me not to..."

"He, child?" The Potions Master didn´t look around as Madam Pomfrey approached them, a goblet of a powerful sleeping draught held in her hands. He took it easily from the matron, waving Madam Pomfrey away. "Who is he?"

"He told me I shouldn´t..." Ginny´s quiet sobs were trailing off. "He said so," She didn´t fight as Snape negotiated her back against the pillows and helping her drink the potion, her small hands enclosing the one of his that held the goblet.

"He was right, child," His other hand rising to cradle Ginny´s cheek, her red hair spilling like silken threads over and between his fingers, he placed the goblet on the table behind him. "Can you tell me who he was?"

The potion took effect quickly, but Ginny still gazed at him tearfully, one hand coming up to grip his hand on her cheek, her speech slurring. "He said it poison was deadly... said it wasn´t wise...I-I didn´t want to upset him..."

"Who, child?"

Bleary brown eyes stared at him, drifting out of focus. A single word slipped past her lips before she sank back on the bed, asleep. A word that made Snape´s eyes widen and a soft curse escape him.

"Dumble...dore..."

***

Alexander was sitting on the sofa in front of the television, glaring at a bowl of cereal when his mother entered the room, carrying a basket of fresh laundry, placing it on the arm of the sofa next to him.

"Good morning to you too."

"Oh...hey, mom," He didn´t look up, glaring more emphatically down into his bowl of some kind of soggy cereal.

"I know its almost vacation time, but you don´t have to start acting like a caveman just yet," She waited for a response, but he seemed fixated on the bowl in front of him. "So what happened that put you in such a good mood?"

"Huh?"

One hand on her hip, the other supporting the laundry basket, Cassandra studied him. "I would prefer it if you looked at me when I´m talking to you, Alexander LaVelle Harris."

Reluctantly, Alexander looked up at her, revealing a black eye. "It´s not as bad as it looks," he hastened to say.

"What happened, Alex?" Uncaring of the laundry and whether it remained upright or not, she lifted his chin and studied the bruise, a gleam of anger shining in her dark brown eyes.

"Friends of Buffy´s boyfriend," he muttered darkly.

"And you were fighting for her honour?" Alexander didn´t answer, turning back to his bowl of cereal. Sighing, Cassandra mussed his hair. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked, making her way towards the front door, someone knocking.

Alexander made no reply, so she turned her attention to their guest.

Opening the door, a plump woman stood there, holding a large folder. "Are you interested in becoming a Jehovah´s Witness?" Cassandra shook her head politely, starting to shut the door. "Or how about subscribing to the Daily Prophet?"

"What?"

"Old Bones and what have you..."

Luckily, Cassandra managed to restrain herself from grabbing her lover-in-disguise and kissing him, as her son glanced over the back of the couch. "Who is it, mom?"

"No one in particular, son," Motioning Ethan into the house, she inwardly smiled as Alexander gave the form of an old woman a cursory glance, then announced that he was going to check that Buffy was all right.

The moment he was gone, Cassandra was hugging Ethan-in-old-lady form. She was still gripping him like that when he returned to his tall, lanky form, holding her as tightly as he could.

"I thought you were dead or something..." she began, but trailed off at the look on her lover´s face. "Ethan?"

"You haven´t heard?"

"H-heard what?"

Reaching into his somewhat baggy jacket, he withdrew a folded edition of the Daily Prophet, which was apparently several days old at least. Opening it out, he handed it to her, looking away.

Cassandra stared at the picture and headline in horror.

A somber-looking Hogwarts, overshadowed by a Dark Mark in the sky.

"Dumbledore Death - You-Know-Who to blame?"

"You...you can´t be serious..." Cassandra stared at him desperately. Somehow, she had ended up kneeling on the floor. She couldn´t work out how and, presently, didn´t really care. "Dumbledore...dead?"

Nodding, Ethan looked around at her. "That´s why I´m here," he said grimly. "If he has power enough to do that, in Hogwarts, in the Professor´s own office of all places, I wanted to be sure that you would be safe," He knelt and held her in his arms. "I want to keep my eye on you and the kid, no matter what."

"How...how could he do it, Ethan?"

"Polyjuice," Cassandra shuddered against his chest. "Don´t worry, Cassie. Even if he used it to walk around here, he would never see you or the boy, even if he was staring you in the face."

"But you don´t know what it´s been like here lately, Ethan," she whispered. "Bad things have been happening here...I heard something about the Harvest last summer... I looked it up and it was meant to be the opening of the Hellmouth...and now, demons are popping up all over the place..."

Looking around, Ethan tried to force a smile "If this is Hell, I´ve seen worse."

"The Slayer fights it all."

Pulling a face that suggested he thought she was being snobby, he put on a posh accent. "Oh look at us, darling, aren´t we absolutely spiffy? We´ve got a Slayer, don´t you know? All the rage in Paris..."

"Ethan, shut up. I´m serious."

"You actually have a Slayer in this town?"

Cassandra nodded. "And it gets better," she said quietly. "She´s one of Alexander´s best friends," Ethan cursed under his breath. "And her Watcher is a chap you used to call Ripper."

"Rupert?" He gaped at her. "A Watcher? A stiff-upper-lip nancying ponce with too many books and no sex life? You´re pulling my leg! He never could have finished the training and everything else!"

"I saw him with the Slayer," she confirmed, smiling slightly at his reaction which was so much more dramatic than she had expected. "And he´s got everything a proper English gentleman should have, including the stutter."

Holding her at arm´s length, he shook his head. "To think my old summoning mate is one of things we used to annoy. We used to come up with ways to spring new demons on the council, he and I, and now he´s one of them. We really have buggered up lives, you and I."

"I was thinking exactly the same thing when Ginny Weasley decided I was going to be her dial-a-minute agony aunt."

Making a phone shape with his right hand, Ethan chuckled. "Hello and welcome to the Nutters R Us talk show. Today´s topic is Dark Lords and how to stop them simply shagging and making it work as a meaningful relationship."

"Ethan," Punching his arm, Cassandra smiled faintly. "That´s not nice."

"Accurate, though."

"Well, yes, but still," Snuggling against him, she sighed. "What are we going to do, Ethan?" Her voice was shaking slightly. "I want to help them fight against him, but if I even thought about showing face, they´d either kill me or throw me in Azkhaban."

"I know how difficult this must be for you, Skeleton," She raised her eyebrows. "All right, maybe I don´t, but you running around on a vendetta against Snake-Man won´t help you or your boy."

"I feel so useless, Ethan. I can´t do anything."

"Apart from fight his forces from this side."

"You what?"

Ethan nodded. "You heard. Haven´t you noticed that there´s been a lot of dark activity lately, even for a Hellmouth? You didn´t think that it was coincidence, with Voldemort rising in power?" Cassandra stared at him. "Blimey, Cassie, don´t you remember anything they taught you at Hogwarts?"

"I...I dunno..."

Sighing, he sat back a little from her. "All right," he said. "Its simple. If there´s an increase in use of the dark arts by wizards, then the dark forces will be drawn to it and vice versa. Their darkness feeds his strength while they feed on his aura of power, not specifically on the power itself." Cassandra nodded that she was following. "As he grows stronger, more of them are going to join him, as long as he has power and as long as they go to him, he gets more powerful."

"I think I understood that," she hesitantly admitted. "You take away one and the other goes away too?"

"Something along those lines," He nodded. "You say that the Hellmouth´s opening was prevented?"

Cassandra nodded. "Just this summer."

"That explains why your old man went quiet as soon as the school term finished last year," Ethan murmured thoughtfully. "There was meant to be a surge in darkness but when it was stopped, I´m guessing it was the same idea as a car running out of petrol, when it´s used up more than it realised."

"So Voldemort uses vampires like a duracell bunny uses a battery?"

"Only he doesn´t roam the world, banging an evil drum...although he may well start that when he gets enough power," The wizard scratched his chin, the stubble rasping against his fingertips. "Closing the Hellmouth meant that the power he expected was reduced. I think bumping off things that go bump in the night would probably affect him at least a little in the power circuit."

"So you´re saying I should fight demons and stuff?"

"Nothing that drastic, but..."

"If my son can do it, I bloody well can!"

"Your...son?"

Smiling genuinely this time, Cassandra nodded proudly. "My little boy is helping the Slayer when she needs him. He has been for the last school year and a half, since she got here, as far as I can see."

Ethan snorted with laughter and it rapidly became a full belly laugh. "Bloody Hell..."

"What?"

"I..." Choking back his laughter, chuckles escaping him, he shook his head. "I would pay good money to see Voldemort´s face if you told him that his only son and Heir has been killing the things that feed his power."

Chuckling, Cassandra held up a hand. "Imagine this, though," she suggested. "Alex trying to charm his way around Ripper with that big brown, puppy-dog eyes thing like I used to do to you..." Ethan snorted again. "Then, imagine telling Ripper that Alex is You-Know-Who´s son."

A guffaw escaped the Wizard and he held his sides, shaking with laughter. "Now that would be funny. He´d be torn between running, screaming in terror or researching like crazy."

"Yeah...but, for now," she sighed, sobering. "I´m glad that Alex is just my little boy, just a plain muggle," She almost did smile. "Although, he hasn´t noticed that I patch him up with magic when he comes back from the Slay-grounds. He just assumes that he´s a fast Healer."

"You´re a good mother, Cass."

"And you´re a wonderful demon-worshipping God-father." She pressed against him, arms around his waist, his body much thinner than she remembered. "I don´t want you to go away again, Ethan."

He smiled against her temple. "I´m not going anywhere, Cass, I promise. I´ll drum up a little business here, catch up with Old Rupes, piss him off for old time´s sake and we´ll be all right."

"We better be." She mumbled, just letting him hold her.