The Chameleon's Shroud

Call Me Mel

For the fifth night in a row, Megan woke up in a cold sweat, hazel eyes wide and staring in the dark. How much longer would her nightmares rouse her from a sound sleep? She lay there panting, glad of the silencing charms she had begun using around her bed at night. Finally, she groaned and dragged herself from the warm cocoon of blankets she was currently tangled in to the bath and ran the taps, knowing she needed to wash the sticky, acrid scent of fear from her body.

The feeling of being watched, of being judged and being found wanting lingered and she shut the door behind her with a click, wand firmly held in hand. The Dark Lord ... her lord and master ... had sent her a summons. After Dumbledore's death and a summer spent searching for a way to bring him down, she'd instead been seduced by the indefinite promises of dark magic. She had been training with the best of them in secret for months now, learning, expanding her knowledge and skills. And it was heady stuff.

She leaned against the door and sighed, wishing she could talk to Liam, but she'd chosen her path and now that she had, she was destined to walk alone. Megan Jones, you don't need anyone anyway, so stop it, she said sternly, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. Only there was a stark loneliness in her almond shaped eyes and it unnerved her. In everything, she'd turned to him, and yet for the first time in the six years they'd been friends, she had a secret she couldn't share, even with him.

There was Mandy Brocklehurst, the girl she was closest to in school. She knew what Megan was about, but there was something going on between she and Theodore Nott that kept her distracted; besides, it just wasn't the same. As much as Megan loved her best girl friend, Mandy didn't know her deepest, most desperate secrets. Except this one.

For crying out loud woman, get your arse in the shower and clean up before one of the others wakes up and finds you here! Megan tested the temperature of the water and stripped out of her now soaked nightclothes before climbing in the shower and letting the warm water sluice over her petite frame. She let the heat seep into her pores until the tense muscles in her shoulders and back eased their grip on her.

It was still dark out when Megan emerged from the bath and made her way on silent feet back to her bed. She gathered clothing from her trunk and dressed behind her drapes before emerging and shoving the still damp nightgown into a corner of her trunk. Generally Megan viewed the morning of a return to her father's home with a gloomy outlook and this one was no different. At least Easter break was just over a week rather than the three for Christmas.

She made her way down to the common room and drew her legs to her chest, staring into the fire as she mindlessly braided her long dark hair. Someone had come in and stirred it to new life from the banked embers she'd seen there just before making her way to bed the night before. A glance at the clock above the mantle told her she'd had a grand total of four hours of sleep this time. Well, bully for me, she thought. Nothing like going home sleep deprived and having to figure out a way to escape the house to meet with the Dark Lord at the appointed time and place, Megan.

A few minutes later, quiet footsteps heralded the arrival of another housemate and she tensed until a familiar scent preceded the newcomer. Warm, a hint of boy underlying the waft of a light, spicy cologne she'd given him for Christmas. It was entirely Liam Summers and she smiled slightly. "I should've known it'd be you," she said softly, not even moving her head from where it rested atop her knees.

Megan's shoulders relaxed and she leaned gratefully against the warm side of her best mate when he flopped unceremoniously onto the sofa beside her. "Lee, I'm going to miss you this week," she whispered, finally turning the small bit she needed to in order to look at him. She smiled at the slightly rumpled state of his dark blond hair and the faint mark on his cheek from his pillowcase, reaching and tracing over it. He'd had a shave; his skin was as smooth as her own face was to the touch. "Just like you to wake up and come straight down to check on me. I'd ask how you knew, but you always do."

Liam smiled at Megan, covering a yawn. He couldn't help looking after her; he always had and likely always would. She was his best friend in all the world, and he loved her to distraction. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. "We get on the train in," he studied the clock, "six hours. It figures you'd come down here and brood until breakfast at the very least."

"True enough," Megan conceded, closing her eyes and relaxing into Liam. He was on the lean side, but he was still muscular thanks to his spot as a Beater on the House team. With his bluish-green eyes and easy smile, Liam didn't lack for admirers, Megan included in their number. Still, they were just friends, and she was sure that was all they would ever be.

She knew they'd have maybe an hour left to themselves before Zach (another friend) stumbled down the stairs, or Alicia or Isaac, Liam's younger siblings. Megan nodded more to herself and murmured, "You know me too well, Liam Summers."

"So what are your plans, love?" she asked, even if he'd likely already told her. She just liked the comfortable familiarity of sitting there with him in the semi-darkness, listening to the rumble of his voice as he talked.

"Oh, the usual. Home, listening to Mum screech at the twins, visiting a few friends, hanging out with my best girl." Liam pressed a kiss to Megan's temple and grinned at her. "And you, too, I suppose."

She swatted his arm and laughed. "Prat. I'd better be your best girl. You know I won't tolerate being second best!"

"Sorry, Meg, you'll just have to stand in line behind Mum and Ali," Liam winked. "Besides, it's not like I'm first for you, am I?" he teased, even though there was a twinge inside at verbalising it. "Bet you'll be snogging your precious Michael all break, won't you?"

"Nah," Megan shook her head. "He's another casualty added to the ever growing list of blokes who bore me."

"Oh?" Liam's eyes gleamed with interest. "I'm sorry to hear that. When did this happen?" he asked, suppressing the air of triumph he felt.

"Last night," she shrugged, picking at a spot on her jeans and looking up into his face. "And don't pretend you're sad on my account, either," Megan grinned. "Because I'm hardly sad myself."

Liam laughed lightly. "Fine, then I can say in all honesty that I've never liked the bloke and you're better off without him. I keep telling you Meg, you should just pick me." He winked at her and poked her in the side, grinning knowingly when she skittered away from his tickling fingers.

He told her that all the time, enough so that Megan's heart had stopped leaping at the thought of a relationship with Liam beyond what they had. He'd been her first kiss, intentional and otherwise, and the first boy she'd ever fancied, but nothing had ever come of it. The thing about being best friends with a boy -- he always wound up doing something to remind her that he was exactly that ... a boy.

"Prat, what kind of best friend are you, not telling me when you think a bloke's not good for me, hmm?" Megan challenged, wriggling her fingers against his side in retaliation, her eyes dancing.

"The kind that's not stupid," Liam snickered, grabbing for her hands and trapping them between his larger ones. "And no tickling."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Megan demanded, tugging at her hands fruitlessly. She'd learned more than a few wandless tricks in her training and could've put a Rictusempra on Liam without really straining herself, but she didn't want to ever use dark magic on him, even if it was only to employ a tickling charm. Instead, Megan unfurled her legs and tossed one over Liam's lap, straddling his thighs and staring into his eyes. "Come on, how could your telling me dating Michael was a bad idea, be bad?"

She was in dangerous territory, sitting as she was astride his legs. Liam forced himself to think thoughts of anything and everything he could imagine to cool his very un-best mate-like body's reaction to her being where she was.

"Meg, love, ask yourself that question, but change it up where I'm you and you're me. Knowing your fierce temper, would you have wanted to say anything?" He quirked a brow in question, still fighting his body's reaction to her close proximity.

"Well when you put it that way," Megan hedged, then narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I would," she insisted. She had no idea why she was mad at him all the sudden, but she was and she moved away to his side, tugging on her hands again and chafing them when he let go as if Liam had hurt her, even though he hadn't and she knew instinctively he never would.

Liam let out an explosive sigh, simultaneously relieved she was no longer unwittingly courting disaster in his lap, and frustrated because he wanted her so badly, if only she wanted him the same way! He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up at points.

"Fine, for future reference, I'll be sure to tell you when a bloke isn't right for you. Better?" His tone was sardonic, even if the look he gave her didn't match his voice. There was a question in his eyes; he hated that she was unhappy with him and his expression begged forgiveness.

Megan never had been able to hold a grudge against Liam and she nodded, her own expression morphing into an apologetic one. "I'm sorry, Lee," she said softly, averting her eyes. "It's just...."

"Going home, I know," Liam finished for her. She was always more irascible when it was time to return to their respective families, and because of that, he knew she hadn't really been angry at him so much as at the situation.

"Yeah," Megan said, a bleak look on her face. The haunted feeling from her nightmare returned and she crawled into his lap, seeking reassurance that things would be alright, even if she couldn't confide in him the true nature of things.

It always tugged at Liam's heart to see her like this, almost inconsolable, and he made it his business to cheer her up. "Come on, Meg. Let's go for a fly or something, before someone comes down and interrupts some prime best mate time, hmm?" He gave her a winning smile and was relieved to see her respond to it, her lips quirking upward.

"You're the bestest friend ever," she declared hugging him tightly and burying her face in his shoulder for a moment, soaking up the comfort he offered and pulling herself together. "Go get your broom and I'll be here, waiting for you, okay?"

*~*~*

Liam had not only taken her for an early morning fly, he'd stopped them on their way to the pitch to grab a light meal from the kitchen, thereby ensuring he and Megan wouldn't have to return to the Great Hall straight away for breakfast as well. They'd lingered out there on the pitch, flying crazily and laughing, enjoying the sun, the cool air and one another's company until Alicia had appeared at the edge of the pitch.

She stood there, hands on her hips as she glared at her brother and scolded for him not being there to help her carry her trunk up to the Entrance Hall. Alicia Summers was ... or would be, once she lost the childish plumpness in her face ... a lovely girl, favouring their mother's fairer blonde locks and bright blue eyes. She was a bossy imp and Megan loved her to death.

The best friends landed and parted ways, Liam to take care of his sister, and Megan to find Mandy and see if they could discuss how she was going to get out of the house for the evening.

*~*~*

"Okay, so Theodore and I were talking, see, and I don't know, Meg, I like him but I'm not sure I want to be around him all the same. He's dangerous, you know?" Mandy gave Megan an earnest look, leaning forward confidentially. They had snagged one of the thestral-drawn carriages to themselves and she was making full use of the privacy.

Mandy was part Indian and had a beautiful café au lait complexion that Megan envied. She was spirited, animated, and all together different when in Megan's company than that of anyone else's. She was also extremely talkative.

"But he shags like a god," she said, a dreamy cast on her features, continuing on with her favourite subject of late.

"Mhmm," Megan nodded distractedly as she stared out the window. They were almost at the platform for the train. "Mandy, will you shut up for just a little while? I need to say something."

"What?" Mandy gave Megan a slightly offended look.

"I have my first audience with Him tonight," Megan said urgently, giving her friend an anxious look. "And I need to figure out how the hell I'm going to get there. Will you help me figure it out?"

"You what?" Mandy gave Megan a disbelieving frown and said, "Not another word until we're on the train!" She opened the door of their carriage and climbed out, grabbing her trunk and hauling it through after her.

Megan followed suit and waved at Liam and Zach, indicating with a jerk of her head that she was going to sit with Mandy for a while. She caught a flash of disappointment in their expressions but soon was caught in the bustling crowd.

"Now, tell me what the hell is going on," Mandy demanded once they were in a compartment. She put up a locking charm on the doors and a silencing charm for good measure, giving Megan her undivided attention.

"I got a summons," Megan said simply. "And I need to go. Tonight. I'm to meet with my mentor and he'll take me to Him. But I need a reason to get out of the house." She gave Mandy a significant look and moved to sit beside her. "I'm scared out of my mind, Mandy."

"Well, shite, I would be too," Mandy laughed uneasily. "What can I do to help you, though?"

"I need a reason to leave the house," Megan replied. She absently untangled the snarls in the ends of Mandy's wavy black hair for her and said, "You think I can tell my parents that I'm visiting with you? No one else knows what I'm up to, after all. Please, Mandy, I'm begging you."

"Tell you what. Braid my hair for me like you did yours and we have a deal, okay? And in the meantime, I have to tell you what Theodore told me last night!"

The two friends giggled and sighed over the latest trials and tribulations of Mandy's relationship with Theodore while Megan plaited her heavy locks. She was just securing her work with a bit of ribbon when Theodore knocked on the door.

Megan took her leave of them and worked her way throughout the compartments, visiting with people she was friendly with, finally finding her way to the car where Liam and Zach were ensconced. "Miss me much?" she asked, striking a flirty pose in the doorway, winking and blowing kisses at the boys.

The three friends played Exploding Snap and were working on a rather risqué Muggle card game Zach had picked up -- something called "Strip Poker" -- when the train began slowing down for its entry into King's Cross. Megan had been down to her camisole top and jeans; her shoes, socks, bra, jumper, and all of her jewelry had already been removed; looking at the hand she held, she would've had to lose her jeans too, no doubt.

"Next time I'll get you down to your knickers, Meg," Zach taunted, leering at her. "I mean, I got your bra," he teased, swinging the lacy scrap playfully from his forefinger.

Liam shot Zach a dirty look and grabbed the garment from him, then handed it back to Megan, blushing to the roots of his hair. "Git."

"He is a git," Megan agreed, taking her bra back and putting it on beneath her jumper, her own face red. She'd pulled it off readily enough, but that was because of her camisole. Besides, it was a game -- bravado was to be expected then.

They all quickly re-dressed, with Megan trying not to openly ogle Liam or Zach's bare chests. Zach's hair was a bit blonder than Liam's but he was just as much a handsome devil, only his eyes were a soulful deep brown. He caught her in the act and blew her a kiss, causing Megan to flush all over again.

The lighthearted feeling that spending time with her friends wrought evaporated when the train stopped and she looked out the window. The family housekeeper was there on the platform, but no parents or sibling. "Oi, what's with the long face?" Zach asked, ruffling Megan's hair playfully. She jerked her head away from him, her lips pressed into a thin white line.

Liam could tell she was struggling not to cry and he imagined Zach could read her just as well, being the third member of their small group of friends. Zach's way had always been to be a prat when she got down, whereas Liam's had been to automatically try and shield her from whatever her hurts were. Between the two of them, they generally managed to keep Megan in high spirits, but he could tell she was barely hanging on at this point.

Liam gave Zach a significant look and the other man subsided, hugging Megan awkwardly. "I guess this is it, my darling girl. Promise you'll pine endlessly for me," he said, dipping her dramatically over an arm and planting a wet kiss on her cheek.

Megan grimaced and wiped her face on his shirt, laughing despite her black mood and smacked Zach on the bum as he grabbed his trunk. "Oh yes, I'll pine," she promised, rolling her eyes. She watched as he clapped Liam on the shoulder in farewell. Zacharias Smith could be a class-A git at times, but he was a good friend, and loyal. The moment he was gone, the smile slid from her face and she sighed, looking about the compartment one last time for anything they might have forgotten.

"Hey," Liam whispered, stopping her and hooking a finger beneath Megan's chin. He forced her face upward so she had to look at him. The misery in her eyes made his heart clench sympathetically. "I'm only an owl away, Meg. You know if you need me I'll be there for you, right?"

"They didn't even come to get me," she whispered, nodding toward the window. "Sent Irene, instead." Megan shook with a combination of hurt and anger and she took slow, deep breaths until she'd mastered herself. She threw herself into Liam's arms and clung to him. "Thank you for this morning, Lee. I'll cherish the memories more than I think you even realise," she muttered into his shirt.

Liam only had time to press a kiss to the top of her head before Megan was pulling away and drawing herself in tight. He'd seen her do this every single time the train arrived back in London, but it never got any easier to watch his vivacious best friend suddenly transform before his eyes from happy school girl to sullen teenager. He handed his siblings their trunks when they stopped near the compartment and then followed them out, Megan trailing behind him unhappily.

The Summers family reunion was a happy one. Megan watched wistfully for a moment before she was swept up in an embrace from Liam's mother. "Megan, sweetheart, you need fattening up, child," she scolded affectionately, asking after her studies and her plans for the holiday.

Megan would have gladly remained with them, but the housekeeper came over with a disapproving frown. "Time to go home, Miss Megan," she said in her brusque tones.

"Yes, yes," Megan sighed, sharing a last hug with each family member before trudging after Irene and following her silently out of the station, feeling Liam's eyes on her back the entire time. Right, Megan, buck up. You've got a lot going on this week. Not the best time in the world to fall apart simply because your family's done what they've done for years now....

*~*~*

"Mother, may I please be excused?" Megan asked in a formally courteous tone of voice, setting her napkin beside her dinner plate. She and her stepmother were eating in the dining room as per the family's usual, sitting across one another at one end of the long table. Her father hadn't even bothered to come home from work to see her, and the snub stung more than usual.

Felicia Jones looked at her step-daughter's plate and seeing it cleared, nodded her assent. She and the young woman got on fairly well, all things considered. Felicia wasn't a fool -- she knew Megan hated being there as much as she hated having her there, but neither one of them had much choice in the matter. Because of that, they at least strove for a modicum of cordiality between them. "Of course, darling. Run along. I'm sure you must be tired after that long journey back from school."

Megan gave her a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. She'd spent the afternoon unpacking and writing in her journal. If she'd needed rest, she could have taken a nap then.

"Thank you. Do you think Father will be terribly put out if I go to Mandy's house for the evening? We never really get a chance to hang out together at school, particularly with the way the professors are working us to prepare for our N.E.W.T.s and well, I know she and her parents were planning on traveling later in the week."

It was no skin off her back, but Timothy could be funny at times, wanting Megan near and then not really caring what she did with herself on other occasions. "Well," Felicia said, drumming her long, manicured nails lightly on the tabletop as she thought, "he did say he would be late. Why don't you run along and spend some time with your friend, then," she said, glad to have Megan out from her hair for a bit longer. The smile on her face was no less insincere than the one her step-daughter wore.

"Thank you, Mother," Megan replied, inclining her head slightly in a regal tilt. She had learned to play the deceit game here, at Felicia's knee. The difference was, she didn't have to hide her true thoughts from her icy stepmother so long as she kept up the appearance of harmony between them. The two women understood each other perfectly well.

Once she left the dining room, she walked up the stairs to her bedroom and gathered what she would need for her talk with the Dark Lord, and then packed it all into an overnight bag. Megan paused for a moment, considering, and added in a change of clothing and the odd assortment of toiletries as well, unsure of what the night would bring.

"I will see you in the morning, Mother," she called, waving to Felicia in the parlour, enjoying a glass of sherry by the fire. She was glad that she could Apparate at will from the estate and wasted no time in hurrying off to the Apparition point. Right. To Mandy's house, and from there, off to the next grand adventure ... hopefully it wouldn't be death.

*~*~*

She was in a set of long black robes, the hood pulled up to conceal her hair, and following quietly behind someone she'd been learning from for months now. Rabastan Lestrange had taken an almost fatherly interest in Megan, liking her enthusiasm for learning and her obvious skill with both wand and potions. He wanted her to take the Mark, to become a fully 'qualified' follower of his Lord, but he knew that it had to be Megan ... and the Dark Lord's decision. This audience would determine a great many things.

He'd had a daughter once, one who no doubt would have grown up to be as pretty as the young woman walking beside him. Mariella had been the light of his life, and he'd lost her when his wife disappeared not long after he, his brother and sister-in-law had been sent to Azkaban.

Meredith had been a Death Eater, same as him, but motherhood had changed her, and increasingly, she found the lifestyle intolerable. There had been a period of domestic harmony between them after Harry Potter's initial triumph over He Who Must Not Be Named, but when Bellatrix and Rodolphus told him that the Longbottoms would know where to find their Lord, or at least how to bring them back, he had accompanied them on their ill-fated excursion to seek the 'truth.' And lost his family in the process.

To this day, Rabastan had no idea where his daughter was, but he'd adopted his young apprentice, guiding and teaching her much as he would have done with Maribella. It was made even easier by the fact that they were of an age, Megan and his child.

He already knew she'd be a credit to him -- cool under pressure, intelligent, talented, an avid learner. "Here we are," he said quietly, placing a hand on Megan's shoulder. She tensed beneath it and he stepped in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Megan," he murmured, trying to reassure her. "All that will happen tonight is that He will speak with you, ask you questions, and from there, decide between the two of you what your official role shall be." He never touched her beyond a pat on the shoulder but he could tell she needed more. Rabastan wasn't an overly affectionate man by nature, but in this instance, he could make an exception. He pulled her closer and awkwardly hugged her, giving Megan a fatherly kiss on her brow. "I will be right there with you. Now relax, girlie."

Megan nodded and gave him a wan smile, pale beneath the cowl of her robes. She took several deep, calming breaths and then stepped back from Rabastan, surprised at the gesture, but grateful for it all the same. "I am ready."

She followed him through the door, eyes on his back. Perhaps later she would allow herself the luxury of looking around, taking in her surroundings. For the time being, her attention was riveted on her mentor, and the man sitting on the dais in front of them. She knelt beside Rabastan when they were near enough and waited. Show time.

Lord Voldemort watched the proceedings through dispassionate eyes. His followers had been bringing him more and more of the young ones as of late -- some were worthy of notice, while others were Obliviated and sent on their way. He was very interested in this girl of Rabastan's, however, considering the man's history, and the fact that he was among the few the Dark Lord considered his most loyal. If Lestrange believed she was worthy of his notice, the matter warranted careful scrutiny.

"Rise, my friend," he said in his nasal voice, getting to his feet so that the taller Rabastan would not stand over him, waving his wand and creating a comfortable armchair for the other man to lower his long frame into. "Be comfortable."

Voldemort found it interesting that the girl still knelt, head bowed as if in supplication; she would not look upon him until commanded to do so. He shot an approving glance at his friend and stepped directly in front of her now that Rabastan was seated. "Megan Jones," he said quietly, "please, let us not stand on ceremony, my dear." He offered her a pale hand, the scant light in the room making his skin glow almost incandescently.

Megan took his hand and got to her feet as gracefully as she could. She wouldn't admit to anyone how many times she had practised the move, but she was glad that she had when she didn't even wobble as she found her full height of five foot two inches in her shoes. She kept her head lowered respectfully, resisting the desire to wipe off that cold clamminess of his skin on her robes. She murmured her thanks for his assistance and waited.

The Dark Lord conjured a seat for her as well, though the utilitarian chair he created for her sent the message clearly enough that she was unknown, and therefore undeserving of any extra comfort. "Please, have a seat, and let us get to know one another."

"Thank you, my Lord," she said quietly, her voice just loud enough to be heard, but no more. Megan moved carefully, arranging her robes around her so she would not have to shift to settle them once she was sat. She folded her hands in her lap and waited, staring at the top stair of the dais, watching in her peripheral vision as the darkest wizard of her time found his own seat.

What followed afterwards was a game of cat and mouse, in which he questioned, probed, tested and even challenged Megan. She was exhausted after four hours of this, particularly after having been awake for nearly twenty hours by the time he called for a break. Both she and Rabastan were excused from His presence and they made their escape to stand beneath the cool night sky. Megan took in several deep breaths, the nip in the air enough to send a sharp pain through her lungs, albeit a welcome one. It woke her up better than anything else could.

"How much longer?" she asked Rabastan, glancing at him, always hovering just to the side. He'd remained silent through the questioning unless the Dark Lord directed something to him in regards to her training.

"I honestly could not say," he replied quietly, his swarthy expression unreadable. It surprised Rabastan that they were still speaking with Him this far into it. So far as he knew, very few audiences turned into such extensive interviews, and the fact that this one had was promising for the girl.

However, it was the line of questioning that had him worried -- the last hour had been solely about her family. He knew his Lord was employing Occlumency in some form which told him that Megan must have issues with her family, but what?

"I told you he would delve into your mind," he added quietly. "What is the problem with your family, Megan?" Rabastan's deeply set eyes were intent.

To Megan's credit, she didn't flinch and she met his gaze with a forthright one of her own. "I hate them," she said simply. "I am adopted by the Joneses and quite frankly, I wish I wasn't."

He'd done his own research, naturally and the revelation wasn't a surprise. There really wasn't much that Timothy or Felicia Jones could offer their side, save perhaps the connection to Alembicus, but no, that was a stretch. They had people like Snape for those sorts of purposes, and judging by the promise his young protégé exhibited, Megan would likely play a similar role for them. Rabastan wondered what exactly it was about her relations that the Dark Lord was fixated upon.

"Ah. One cannot help who they are related to, little one. All they can do is try to make the best of the situation, yes?" The words were quiet, but enough emotion lay behind them to make her glance at him sharply.

"Rabastan?" She wore the question on her face.

"Stop that," he scowled at her, uncomfortable with the feelings she brought out in him. "Above all else, curtail that curiosity, Megan. At least until we are not in His presence." He glanced toward the door and nodded. It was time to return. "Come, we are being called again."

*~*~*

Rather than returning to home, Megan simply held on to Rabastan's arm as he Apparated the both of them to his own house. She was beyond exhausted, her head ached abominably, and there was the promise of a second visit with the Dark Lord the following evening. At the moment, however, all she wanted was a place to lay her head. The rest could be sorted after a nap.

There were two young people Rabastan mentored -- Megan, and a lad by the name of Adrian Pucey. The boy was a few years Megan's senior, but they hadn't met yet; he was holding out on that until he knew whether Megan would be accepted by the Dark Lord or not. "I am sure you are tired. Come, you can sleep in here." He led her to a guest bedroom and assigned an elf to wait on her before seeking out his own bed.

Her sleep was troubled, as it had been for the last several nights, and Megan woke up pouring sweat from yet another nightmare. She was glad she'd had the foresight to carry her overnight bag with her and she sat up, pulling the shrunken parcel from her robes to enlarge it, rummaging through it and calling for her elf before seeking out the bath. She allowed herself a long soak and washed the stickiness from her skin before getting dressed and seeking out a cup of tea in the parlour.

Rabastan's home was familiar to her after the last six months and she sat there in the pre-dawn light sipping the fragrant brew, her head already going over possible scenarios. She barely even acknowledged when her host entered the room and sat across from her.

"If you could choose any name you wanted," he said in a conversational tone, "what would it be, and why?"

His voice was still husky with sleep, but the fact that it was the first thing he said to her made Megan's brows climb. "Pardon me?"

"What would you change your name to if you could so choose, and why?" Rabastan repeated. He had returned to the Dark Lord's side a mere twenty minutes after he had collapsed into bed, summoned once more by his master. There was something He couldn't penetrate in her head, and he wanted more information on the girl. She intrigued him -- there was a layer of seemingly innate sweetness to her, and yet behind that, he'd discovered a well of hate so deep it had taken him by surprise. The question hopefully would get her to open up to her mentor, and by doing so, give him some insight to who she was really hiding beneath her façade.

"Not the usual sort of conversation one would expect," Megan replied lightly, shrugging. She ran her finger along the rim of her cup, considering what Rabastan had asked. "May I ask if there is a reason for such an odd question, though?"

"It comes straight from our Lord," Rabastan replied. "He called me back soon after you slept, Megan."

"Oh." Well then, Megan, you'd better think this one out and come up with something good. She picked at a small pastry the elf had brought to her along with the tea and nibbled on it thoughtfully. "I have heard my mother wanted to name me Amelia," she finally said softly. "My real mother, that is. I like Melia better though. And I know her last name was Lyons, my last name was Lyons, before the Joneses adopted me and dragged me here to England." She sipped her tea again, so many emotions flickering over her face it was hard to determine exactly what she was feeling in that moment.

Rabastan was surprised at how frank she was being. "Why did you not speak on this before, Megan?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice, raising the cup of tea the elf set before him and taking a careful sip. His eyes remained on the young woman and again, he wondered how much he truly knew of her.

She shrugged. "Do you speak on your family when we are training?" she finally asked quietly, giving him an eloquently bemused expression. "I thought the purpose for our meetings was for you to instruct me in the ways I could be useful to our Lord, not to gossip about things I much prefer to leave in the past."

He flushed; she was right, naturally, but that didn't make him feel any better about being gently rebuked by an eighteen year old chit still in the schoolroom. He shot a Cruciatus at her and held it long enough for Megan's tea cup to go crashing to the floor, her own body following it soon after. "I imagine," Rabastan said mildly, "that my daughter would likely act just like you. And for that reason alone, I will not punish you further for your impudence."

Megan stared up at him, gasping for air. "I didn't know you had a daughter!"

"Yes, well, I did not know you hated your family as much as you do," Rabastan rejoined, giving her a wry look. "Perhaps we should return to the task the Dark Lord has set you, yes?"

"Right," Megan nodded, struggling to retake her seat. She watched as an elf cleaned up the mess her tea had made on the rug, her limbs still twitching with aftershocks from the curse. "I would call myself Melia Lyons, Mel for short. I like my middle name well enough, and that would spell out my initials." The more she thought on it, the better it seemed to her. Perhaps if she was going to work for the Dark Lord, to keep her activities secret from her family, she would go by an alias. "Would you...." she said hesitantly, then firming her resolve, "Would you call me that, Rabastan? Please?"

"We shall see what the Dark Lord has to say, Megan," he replied quietly. "And until then, I shall continue to call you by your given name. It is a pretty name, and it suits you."

"It means soft or gentle, in the Gaelic," she muttered. "I don't feel particularly gentle after that last bit, you know." Megan scowled at Rabastan and sighed. "I must be getting home, though, if I've a prayer of leaving the house again this evening. Same arrangement?"

"Yes, I will wait upon your arrival and then we will go to see Him, Megan." His lips twitched in amusement at the irritated look on her face. "Someday you will learn to accept who you are."

*~*~*