Ancient Prophesy

Gods...ghosts...prophecies. Confused, but not knowing what else to do, Raven flung the journal down on her bed and aimed her quill at the fire. With a quick flick of her wrist, she let it fly like a paper airplane and watched as it crashed and exploded in a hissing puff of flames upon the grate. She wanted to go for a drive and clear her mind of the day's events, and she wanted to go now. Flopping on the bed next to the journal, she pushed it away and gazed at the flames burning bright orange and blue, Helga's words ringing in her ears. "Often do the spirits of great events stride on before the events...in today's shadow walks tomorrow's future." Raven realized now that Helga's reach encompassed the future, her perception came from the stars, and when she wrote, it was with a voice that carried the weight of the ages that were yet to be.

"If I had known what the day was going to be like, Helga, I wouldn't have gotten out of bed," Raven said into the flames of the fire.

First the dragons, then Harry, followed by Ginny and her Mum's trunk. She cursed herself once more for opening it in front of Ginny, but the damage had been done and there was no fixing it now. And then there was Severus Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire. Big windbag. It was bad enough he tormented the Gryffindors mercilessly. It was bad enough he took every opportunity to belittle her, but when he had the Gryffindors and her in the same room, the man was insufferable. His normal sadistic personality had reached maniacal proportions today and most of his rage, as predicted, had been directed at her and Ginny.

This time he had pushed her too far, though. It was one thing to insult her, but insulting her mother had crushed her resolve to behave while working with him into a powder finer than any mortar and pestle could produce. She really had been doing well. No out-bursts, no tantrums, no thrown objects, or wild magic; but when he called her mother an incompetent charlatan who hawked her wares to ignorant Muggles, that had done her in. The white flag of truce lay in smoldering ruins on his desk. Ginny's Mandrake essay, the catalyst of the entire battle, had proved useful after all.

"Just because you don't use Mandrake as a fertility aid doesn't mean it can't be done, you narrow minded, arrogant...lout." She had said the words out loud and then had lit the essay on fire before his face, without even pulling her wand. The fact she had been able to do that frightened her, but the look on his face frightened her even more.

The result of Raven's theatrics had been a detention to be served that evening. Not that he could give her one, but he could give Ginny one, which he had threatened to do if she didn't comply with his demands. A detention jeopardized Ginny's Head Girl status and there was no way Raven would do that to Ginny. After all, she had helped Ginny write the essay and she wouldn't let Ginny suffer just because she couldn't control her temper around Snape.

The entire two-hour detention had been spent working on the most complex potion Raven had ever helped prepare. She questioned the use of Nightshade, Monkshood and Wolfsbane, three deadly poisons, in one potion, but Snape's response only puzzled her more. "It's not enough poison if you ask me." The fact that he allowed her to assist him in its preparation shocked her, but even more shocking was the fact that as they worked, he had begun to question her on different magical ingredients and how Ezmarelda had used them unbeknownst to Raven, and the patrons of Cedarwood.

The discussion at first was tense and awkward, but as they relaxed around each other Raven had found it difficult to shut up. She loved discussing what she and Ezmarelda had done at Cedarwood, and seeing as very few people understood the subtle complexity and skill necessary to run such a business, she rarely had the chance to do so. Clearly, Snape understood that passion. She had seen it in his eyes as he prepared ingredients, explained the proper mixing of a potion, or even just read from a text as she had seen him do many times while they were alone during her tutorials. So why had he been just downright evil when it came to her and her mother in class today? Figuring that man out would be the death of her. Returning to her room, Raven had been too exasperated to sleep and had thrown herself into reading her mother's letters from Elizabeth and dissecting Helga's journal.

Ezmarelda had saved several years worth of letters from Elizabeth. Most of those contained simple news from home, birthday greetings, news of the sale of properties and deposits into Cedarwood's U.S account. Reading between the lines, Raven saw Elizabeth's attempts to account for all business she conducted involving the Ravenclaw Estate. In all the letters before her, Elizabeth had only once mentioned Raven by name. It was the last letter her mother had received. With heart sickening certainty, Raven knew it had been this last letter that had changed her world forever. A single reference to her name and they had found her, but not killed her. Only her mother. Why?

But that was certainly not the case with Helga. The damn witch had flocks of ravens in her writing. Pulling her notes toward her, she read for the dozenth time her translation of the last written words of Helga's life.

What was once, will be yet once more,

What will come is yet to be discerned.

The Wheel of the Year turns a thousand more,

As each season passes with lessons learned.

Death, while the sun rises on the equinox of autumn,

The Lion trembles in battle, rage heard clear in his cry.

Past locked away and old ways abandoned,

True nature, true self, can no longer deny.

Empress o'er the strange woods, o'er the great sea,

Free spirit on the Raven's wing, Harbinger of change.

The White Raven shall fly, man and maiden, two hearts one soul,

Two of Cups, a Raven ring and Chalice united under oak again.

The King of Cups will deny her identity,

White Witch born during the hunter's moon.

Search through forgotten words of the oracle,

Whilst evil perverts the words of Bran's blessed tune.

Dark moon summons those joined together,

Opening ancient book to mix the ancient drink.

Arms of Fanatics will burn in the mist,

With one faltering son to rekindle the link.

Beneath the Hollow Hill,

Great chamber of timber and stone.

Old names restored to power,

Bound by Serpent's blood boiled in silver with bone.

Malevolence shall live as mortal again,

Conjured spirits from the Doaine Sidhe's old land.

Not far from the millennium the once destroyed,

Shall rise from the blood of their master's hand.

Wildfire will burst forth over forest,

Elder trees singing out in their pain.

Dark Omega returns with an army of Drakes,

Sacred Feast of the Dead, scarring tongues of fire shall rain.

Warrior Lions are born on flying fire,

Raven aloft upon wings of the Boar.

Burn with the black and orange of blessed Samhain,

Great flame amid the green, filling night with poison and horror.

Long-gone words and deeds,

Past and present gifts so dear.

Written verse sets forth forgotten lessons,

Dead men reborn of Roman fear.

Past and present join in anger,

Empress identity found in portrait print.

Strength walks with the Lion in heart's pursuit,

Man and maiden to mix from an ancient Roman list.

In the Lovers' joining, their barrier is removed with burning Yule,

Crimson Lion, he who was given life.

Strength shall cover them, Emperor protect them, The Empress and Hierophant, between them the Cup of strife.

Murder! Murder! With eyes of cold steel,

Dragon's screech, Rapier claws upon the Raven.

Clipped wings to cause ruin, Fallen Angel his vengeance striking,

Empress, Imbolic flight to home and her forest haven.

Across the waters, he shall find her,

The Emperor, by reason, conviction, and right.

The Hierophant shall long for her benediction,

The King of Cups for validation of his sacrifice.

Dark to light, light to dark,

Black son shall deliver onto him the White Witch.

Dark her surroundings, and cold be the night,

Maiden and child reborn, blood from the Cup of the King is switched

By Their powers, Air, Fire, Water, and Earth,

The King's Cup controls the Sun, Moon, and Stars burning bright.

Destiny fulfilled, Slytherin exiled from life,

Ten of Pentacles, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw birthright.

Amidst the darkness the Ban- Duriad is called,

Gently awakening, from frozen dream reprieve.

Our world awaits this moment, with return of the Maiden,

The Thief of Death tastes his end on Litha's Midsummer Night's Eve.

Honored sons shall return with the sunrise,

Dog star, Wolf, and Cup King three.

Longest day of the year, Litha, life abundant,

Bendith Y Mamau to the White Raven and Lion, libations and unity.

Reading it for the thirteenth time didn't change anything. The fact that Helga had used the name Raven didn't bother her the same way as it had on the first reading; it bothered her even more. Everything about the whole stinking passage made her head spin. Working with Dumbledore on the birth charts last week had been bad enough. Seeing how accurate Helga had been with her Tarot readings and her prophetic writing just numbed the mind.

The first three couplets had come to pass already. Of that much she was sure. And the fourth---The King of Cups will deny her identity---well, that was simple enough. The only portion missing on her birth chart was her conception date, and unless she was much mistaken, she wasn't a virgin birth.

So who was he, this King of Cups? A remote and isolated man. A man of undying love. A man with a calm exterior, though his emotions churn within him. A man on the edge. All these traits matched with the King of Cups, but she had thought them only words, repeated many times to boys and men alike paying twenty dollars each for truth from a Tarot reading. She told them what they wanted to hear, never feeling guilty about it...until now. How many false hopes, how many wrong decisions had she caused in her careless, flippant dismissal of what lay before her in the cards?

So, just how true did Helga's words ring? Based on the accuracy she had seen with Helga's charting, her cards spoke true to her and they might just indicate the type of man the King of Cups really was. She'd like to have seen Helga's Tarot cards. They might have cast some light on what she saw with them.

White Witch born during the hunter's moon/ searching through forgotten words of the oracle. Raven looked at the pile of ancient texts, parchment and dictionaries spread across her bed. No need to waste time wondering about that either.

"Think this is funny Helga, don't you? Did you see me lying here and did you have a good laugh at my expense?" She said aloud.

Whilst evil perverts the words of Bran's blessed tune. That needed some explaining. She knew the story of Bran the Blessed. The whole Halloween pumpkin thing came from it. Mum always told the story while they carved pumpkins for the shop's windows. Stories shared, songs sung.

"God, Raven," she chastised herself. "You were a blind fool."

But what did the head of Bran have to do with her? For that matter, what did Harry have to do with her? In the Lovers' joining, their barrier is removed with burning Yule,/ Crimson Lion, he who was given life. Lovers? Hardly. Tough to be a lover when something as simple as the friendship she had felt toward him seemed missing now. Of course, who said you needed to be friends to be a lover? After all, he was damn good looking. A wicked little smile crossed her face and then promptly disappeared as her mother's delicate hand reached through her vision and smacked her backside of the head.

Shaking the image from her thoughts, she focused on the words again. Helga must have seen Harry as the Crimson Lion. Everywhere she saw a Gryffindor, she saw Godric's lion. But Harry's hair wasn't red like Ron's--Ron had been in Gryffindor house with Harry, hadn't he? Harry's was black like hers; and for that matter, why wasn't she known as the Golden Eagle? "Well, there certainly isn't anything golden about my hair," she snorted, laughing at an old memory of black hair, dyed blond. That had been a disaster Mum had fixed for her, too. So many things fixed, so much good advice.

With a heavy sigh, Raven pushed the work away from her and stood, stretching her stiff neck and back. On days like this she would go for a ride. Beautiful warm autumn nights, like tonight, were her favorite. Her fingers moved with skilled dexterity as she plaited her hair back into a single braid, wishing all the while that she were pulling it back so she could put the top down on the old Chevy and drive. She had to think, and pacing in this cramped, damp, windowless room only frustrated her more. Leaving everything where it lay, Raven fled from the dungeons, leaving the castle and the words Helga had written to the ghosts from which they'd come.

~*~

Without undressing, he lay back on the bed and cradled his head in the crook of an elbow. It was so long since he'd slept a full night. All he had to do was give into the dreams and allow himself a few hours of tormented slumber. Who was waiting in his dreams tonight, nested like a spider in his web of darkness to taunt and tease him?

Harry had not slept more than a couple of hours at a time each night for years now. He turned over on his stomach, punched his pillow a few times until it made a crumpled wad and wrapped his arms around it. With a tired sigh, he lay down his head and closed his eyes. "Sleep," he muttered to himself. His words were almost pleading, "Sleep."

Lack of sleep, and even the lack of familiar sounds found within the reassuring comfort of his Gryffindor dorm, made Harry feel lost and alone. It came as a bit of a shock to realize that rolling over after a particularly vivid dream and simply seeing the sleeping form of Ron could be enough to calm him. He could barely stand the thought of closing his eyes and attempting to rest; the dreams came nearly every night, but now he was facing them alone.

Harry drew in a shuddering breath, ignoring the fatigue that crept up and threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't want to think about the dreams. They'd be reality for him soon enough. Voldemort was building support while the wizarding world was falling apart. Harry didn't need the Daily Prophet to tell him that. He witnessed it. Muggles and wizards, entire families were dying; the Dark Mark was appearing more and more frequently, Half-bloods and Muggle-borns living in a state of terror. Entire families were either going into hiding or simply disappearing. Weekly, a different student left Hogwarts for good as family members fled. The Ministry was in a state of shambles as Fudge was drawn tighter into Lucius Malfoy's purse strings.

Now Raven had entered his dreams, jolting him awake with a start. She had smiled a wicked grin that he knew wasn't hers and spoke in a low black-velvet voice, "you better show me all you can because I don't plan on getting killed." The weekend they had spent together had been one of the best he had spent in ages--until Draco Malfoy showed up. But even that hadn't stopped him from relaxing, if just for a while, when with her. He had only known her for four days, and yet in that brief time in London and Ravenglass he had told her more about the last few months of his life than he had even told Ron and Hermione. He couldn't explain why he was drawn to her, he just was. The very memory of holding her, feeling her bare back as it made contact with his arms, sent jolts of delight through his entire body. He wanted to sleep and he wanted to see her in his sleep, for it was the only place he would allow himself to touch her. "Sleep," he mumbled.

His parents' faces swirled up dreamlike as his breathing slowed. He didn't want to deal with such emotions now. He couldn't dredge up the energy to cry anymore, but he knew each time he saw someone tortured and killed, saw Hagrid cry out to him, heard his mother pleading for his life, he was dying inside. After all, it was his blood that had enabled Voldemort to become mortal again. Tonight, he couldn't force the pictures out of his head. "Sleep," he pleaded again, but another voice answered this time. "Fly."

In the past he had used flying and Quidditch practice, trying every dive and dangerous move he could, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing, tiring himself out enough so that he could fall into an exhausted sleep at night. Otherwise, whenever he tried to sleep, his dreams showed him the Dark Mark over the Burrow, or Remus' house or even Hogwarts, waking him in terror. Often, instead of going back to bed, he had crept out of the school, using his Invisibility Cloak, and flown until morning Quidditch practice had begun. The team never realized it wasn't their captain's dedication that had him on the pitch before everyone else. The simple fact was, their captain was afraid to close his eyes.

Changing out of his work robes quietly, even though there was no one to wake, Harry picked up his broom and then out of habit reached for the Invisibility Cloak. As the silver cloth touched his fingers he realized he didn't need it this time. No one could stop him if he chose to fly late at night; his regular cloak would do. With a nostalgic smile he tucked his dad's cloak back into the trunk and let the lid fall closed.

~*~

Raven brushed a few strands of hair back from her face and then poked in frustration at the braid she had just woven her hair into--she should put it up more often, one less thing for Snape to bitch about. The night air was warm for mid October, yet the smell of crisp autumn blowing from the forest came to her on the breeze. It was her favorite time of year--when the world hung between seasons, each struggling for a hold. The wind blew over her face again and she reached up to loosen her hair from the bothersome braid. She wanted it down. She wanted to feel the wind in it. She wanted to be carefree again, not worrying about Helga's words, or Dumbledore's birth charts, or Snape's potions. Or Harry. She just wanted to be left alone, not caring what people wanted or expected from her.

Reaching the lake, she stopped and stood looking out across the water. There was not a sound anywhere--perfectly still--like the whole world was asleep. The moon's reflection danced on the quiet surface of the lake, teasing her. The moon knew the answers, as it knew every secret Hogwarts kept from her. Quiet, smooth and lovely, its soothing silver reflection invited her in. Quickly, before she changed her mind, she stripped to her bra and panties and walked into the water, at once feeling the stress of the day ebb out from her. She felt the sandy bottom end where the water was about knee deep and stopped to look around, watching the waxing moon's pale reflection skip on the water, rippling in her wake. The water was cold, but she had swum in colder, often diving into the Atlantic to greet the rising sun on her birthday.

As the water stilled around her, the diamond stars reflected themselves in the lake's clear, mirrored surface, like a second entrance to the heavens. She strained her eyes to see the peaks of the mountain range to the north. They stood as giant shadows, standing sentinel to the grounds of Hogwarts. With a swift, lithe movement, she dove through the silver curtain of heaven's reflection and rose up quickly, gasping as the chilled water sluiced over her.

Reaching out with long, steady strokes, she set off across the lake at a slow pace, settling into a cadence that calmed her rushing mind. In warm water she could maintain this pace indefinitely; her legs were strong from years of dance classes and the pedestrian life of a New Yorker, but the chill of the water began to drain her quicker than normal and she didn't want to tire out too far from shore. With nothing but the wind and the water guiding her course, she rolled lazily onto her back and allowed herself to float freely, listening to the sound of her own breath echoing in her ears. With the stars around her and the moon at her feet, she floated weightless in the heavens.

~*~

Severus arrived ahead of the appointed hour. He had a few cages to rattle to see what would fall out. Getting into Malfoy's unseen posed no more of a problem than any other place he needed to get into without people recognizing him. There was always a way, Severus thought. He had used this entrance to the manor before. One simply Apparated into an abandoned farmhouse close to the edge of the estate and walked under the cover of forest to the Malfoy family mausoleum, located in the family cemetery, on the edge of their property. The stone drainage tunnels, which he accessed through Lucius' sepulcher, were cold and dark, lit only at intervals by dimly flickering sconces. Walking down them now, Severus watched his shadow stretch forward under his feet as he passed each torch, lengthening until it seemed to dive headfirst and disappear into the dark ahead.

A small envelope of warmth moved with him under his robes, but as soon as he stopped, the chill from the damp stones crept up his feet and legs. He was getting too old for this. If someone had told him twenty years ago he would find it necessary to travel unnoticed through sewer tunnels late at night, he would have laughed in their face and hexed them. Hurrying his steps, he continued, lost in thought. Twenty years ago he had had the world by the tail, a woman who loved him and a future. Now nearing forty, he found himself ankle deep in wastewater wondering what went wrong. Whoever said it was not the age but the mileage that mattered, certainly knew of what they spoke. He had traveled far too many useless miles.

What awaited him at the end of the tunnel, when he arrived at the manor house, gave him reason to slow his pace. The unknown variables disturbed him. Lucius would not take kindly to what he had to say. After all, it would make both Lucius and Draco look bad. Draco for failure to inform his father of what had transpired at the Leaky Cauldron; Lucius for his failure to use Wallace's information, assuming Wallace had even made the proper connections about Raven. Very bad indeed.

A smile tugged at the corner of Severus' thin lips. Good, he'd like to hear Lucius talk his way out of this one. Lord knew he could use some entertainment for once at the expense of the Malfoy family. Lucius was a master at making himself look superior and that finely polished illusion was about to become tarnished. The unpredictability of Voldemort, though, caused Severus the most concern.

The Dark Lord's plans for Raven, who until now had merely been the prophetic writing of a seer murdered ten centuries past, could include anything--even the call for Raven's immediate murder. Severus needed to ascertain what Voldemort planned, and assuming he even met with him tonight, hear what Voldemort would ask of him, and then act accordingly. So much to gain with this gambit, so much to lose.

He had been needlessly cruel to Raven today in front of everyone. Certainly his own warped way of distancing himself from the young woman he had gotten to know over the past month. She was maddeningly cheerful, often singing while she worked. Blatantly outspoken ("you don't like, it don't listen"), willfully stubborn ("fine, I'll shut up"), and the next thing he knew her toes would tap and her backside wiggle to the music in her mind. Yet she was as skilled in the use of plants and herbs as her mother had ever been.

"Ezzy, without a doubt, you can be proud of the job you did," he said out loud to the ghostly memory haunting him. "She's an amazing young woman."

Startled by the sound of his voice, something scampered away in the shadows ahead of him. Only an ordinary sewer rat, but Severus sent a shower of sparks after it with his wand and berated himself for his carelessness. Rats. Yes, they were everywhere. It could have just as easily been Pettigrew in the shadows. Pettigrew loved the shadows. Mostly the shadows of those who took care of him.

As much as he loathed his association with Lupin and Black, contact with Pettigrew brought Severus to the edge of madness. Pettigrew served as a continuing reminder of his own failings. Betrayal, deception and deceit, even murder; all traits and actions Severus now found he had in common with Peter Pettigrew.

He often found himself wondering if he hated Black not because of the pettiness of youth, but due to Black's failure to end Pettigrew's life all those years ago. Someday...oh yes, Peter, someday both he and Black would have their revenge. Severus hoped he'd get the chance first.

Passage through the tunnel ended at a grate, blocking an upward slanting pipe down which water and waste flowed from the manor. Steep stairs to the left of the grate lead to an archway carved into the black stone wall ending at a simple wooden door, whose hinges and bolt looked like they were nearly rusted solid.

There'll be a guard no doubt, Severus thought. Lucius would see to that. "What nasty little beast have you left to guard the door this time, Lucius?" He said out loud.

Drawing his wand and poking it cautiously into the keyhole, he whispered the words In Situ and stepped back, pressing himself firmly against the wall, waiting for whatever vile creature Lucius had placed there to spring.

"Finally," a snide voice said with a contemptuous snort. "My boots are getting wet."

"Draco?" Severus could hardly repress the smirk that rose to his lips. Precious Draco, guarding the sewers. Oh, this night was getting better by the moment. "I see your initiation into the fold has brought you greater responsibility."

Four months ago the insolent stare Draco fixed him with would have been ignored. After all, the Prince of Slytherin was given certain liberties. But not tonight. Draco might have been weaned at infancy on the Dark Arts, then bred and groomed to the standards of Salazar Slytherin, but he had much to learn when it came to the pecking order of the Death Eaters.

"If you don't want your boots wet, maybe you should take them off. Accio!" Severus hissed out, allowing a twisted smile to jump to his face as a very startled Draco found his feet yanked out from beneath him and his boots wrenched from off his feet. Landing hard on the steep stairs behind him, Draco lay there in stunned silence.

Holding Draco's boots at arms length, Severus stepped over the prone man and began the ascent up the narrow, circular stairwell. He listened carefully as Draco pushed forcefully up and off the stone stairs and turned to look up at the retreating back of his former professor. A rustle of robes and a hard swish of air let Severus know Draco had drawn his wand.

Without even turning around, he stopped and spoke vehemently, his voice rolling down the stairs like thunder. "Don't even think it, Draco. Remember, I've seen you duel before. Many times, in fact. Are you comfortable enough with that new wand to go up against the man who taught you how to use one?" The silence that answered his question was all the answer he needed. Continuing upward, he heard Draco padding quietly after him.

Opening the concealed door leading to the back servants' hall of the manor, Severus entered and walked to a wall size tapestry hanging at the end of the corridor. Upon the tapestry, their eyes set with jewels in a background of velvet green, two ten foot snakes were coiled around the cloth bearing between them the Malfoy family crest.

"The password, Draco?"

"Ophidian."

"Hmm," Severus acknowledged, "same as always. Your family really does need a new hobby." Pushing on the drape, it shimmered like a solid made water and gave way beneath his pressure. He entered the shimmer, stepping through the tapestry and into another passage containing a flight of marble stairs leading further upward.

At the top was the large tower room just as he had remembered it; round and rich with paintings and tapestries hung against the concave walls. The room was luxuriously furnished, bursting with ornamentation, and warmly lit by fire and candle. Too warm, in fact, and Severus found himself wishing for the cool air he had just left--even if it wasn't fresh air. The sewer from which he had just emerged would smell far better than the filth he found around him.

"Severus, how nice of you to join our little party. Too bad the guest of honor is a no show," Lucius said, leaning casually back into a thickly padded, wingback chair. "I see you were practicing your boot licking just in case."

"No, I leave that task to Peter. He's so very good at it." With a hard toss, Severus threw Draco's boots in the direction of Peter Pettigrew, who scampered behind Lucius' chair as the boots flew by his knees.

"He'll...he will be here," Peter muttered quickly, "I assure you. He sent me to see that everyone was here to receive him properly."

"I only required the presence of Wallace," Severus snapped back at Pettigrew. "Oh, and of course we surely can't forget Master Draco." He turned and bowed dramatically to Draco who had retrieved his boots and was suffering a stony stare from his father. "No one else need be here, Peter." The name tasted bitter on his lips and he hardened his face so as not to react as he said it.

Wallace stood by the fire, a look of uncertainty and alarm on his face. Two additional Death Eaters, who had chosen to remain hidden behind their hoods and masks, flanked Lucius. All they need do was open their mouths to speak and Severus would place them. The two standing by the door he knew. Though cloaked as well, they had been speaking when he entered, and Severus recognized both as Ministry workers who had children in Slytherin House. He knew without a doubt one was Avery, the other Votnarat.

Lucius' attention returned to Severus. "I fail to see what concern it is of yours whom I choose to have as guests in my home, Severus. As for your continued interest in Draco, though, I must admit my confusion. As admirable of a job as you have done, your responsibility for the instruction of my son has come to an end. What Draco does now is my business, not yours."

"I certainly hope you control your business better than you control your son, Lucius, because as it stands now, I know more about his activities than you do."

At these words, Lucius stood and strode forward, standing toe to toe with Severus. "And again I tell you, Severus, your responsibility has ended. Draco's activities no longer fall under your job description."

"My first responsibility is to our Lord, therefore, it is my job to recognize and bring to his attention what you fail to see," Severus said, with a rawness in his voice that startled him. The lies that spilled from his mouth cost him much this time, and it took all his resolve to pull from his mind the image of the daughter he was about to betray.

Draco had filled out since the last time Severus had seen him, but the lean, sculpted lines of his face remained the same. In the amber glow from the fire behind him, his silken hair shone almost like a halo, but the pale, narrowed eyes with which he watched the confrontation between the two men reminded Severus of just how cunning an opponent Draco Malfoy could be--most certainly not an angel.

The sneering tone in Draco's voice hadn't changed one bit. "I am in the Dark Lord's favor, just as my father is, Professor Snape. I have no reason to worry that my activities, as you call them, would cause Lord Voldemort, or my father, any problems."

"Oh, but they have, Draco. They already have," Severus answered him, with a look he reserved for someone who had just spoiled a perfectly simple potion. "Your activities in the Cauldron last month were so innocent that the Ministry was called in to investigate them. Something I had a very hard time covering up," he added for good measure. Maybe Weasley had served some useful purpose after all. "Were they so innocent, that you felt no need to tell your father the blast from the destruction of your wand set off wards that not only summoned the Department of Magical Regulation, but a team of Aurors as well?" Severus turned and strode menacingly toward Draco. " A team of Aurors that you ran from. That same team of Aurors questioned Potter. You remember him don't you? Harry Potter? Scar on his forehead. No? You were fighting with him in the Leaky Cauldron."

"I didn't start that fight!" Draco, shot back defensively. "The demon bitch that was with him did. And she blew up my wand, I had nothing to do with that explosion."

"I've no doubt of that," Severus said, barely containing his amusement. "Her name is Raven, Draco, and as soon as you laid hands on her you should have know how significant she was to The Dark Lord. As soon as she began to drain the power from your wand, you should have known what you were dealing with."

"Like I said, a demon," he answered smoothly. "She could have been a succubus for all I knew," Draco said, his male ego flaring up. "I didn't think it wise to tangle with her."

"No, Draco, neither a demon, nor a succubus. Potter hardly would be keeping company with a succubus, you fool! And you already were tangling with her. I hardly think you ordered the Maddog just because you like how it tastes." Turning to Wallace, Snape swept his long fingers toward the man, drawing everyone's attention to the unmasked Death Eater standing quietly in the corner. "Wallace, I believe you're familiar with Raven O'Connor as well?"

At this Wallace blanched. He looked quickly around the room as if assessing his chance at escaping Snape's accusations. "I do not recall hearin' the name Raven O'Connor."

Ignoring his denial, Severus continued. "You saw her in the Cauldron after the Ministry Adjudicators dismissed all accusations against the Malfoys. The following day, you returned to Ravenglass to prepare yourself for the Joining. Miss O'Connor was there again, in the company of both Harry Potter and Elizabeth O'Connor."

"And how would ye' be knowin about my work in Ravenglass, Mr. Snape? What I 'em doin' there 'tis the Master's business not yours," Wallace said, attempting to head off the accusations before they started.

"Oh, I know why you were there, Wallace. What I don't know is why you failed to inform our Master of Raven's existence once you learned that she lived. After all, you murdered her mother. What was the point of that if not to deliver Raven to Lord Voldemort?"

"There were two stayin' with the Ravenclaw witch, a man--Roy, and the woman--Raven, and she was too old ta' be the White Witch they sent me ta' find." Wallace said defensively. "Mr. Malfoy, he told me ta' stay and be sure...ta' watch the two anyway, which I did for almost three weeks! 'Tis impossible for her ta' be a White Witch, she's a Squib! She never did do a bit o' magic the whole time. Then, she up 'n disappeared. Next thing I know she's in London and then Ravenglass with Mrs. O'Connor. Mr. Malfoy, he said not to tell..."

"That will be enough," said Lucius, his smug mask of arrogance flickering. Beneath it, Severus could see the man's anger with Wallace, as cold and immovable as the marble floor upon which they stood. "You are a fool for coming here, Snape," he said softly, and around him the Death Eaters pressed closer. Their masks, like Lucius' face, were set and frozen. "You may be shielded by our Master and the position he affords you, but he cannot always be there to protect you. The accusations you make will not be tolerated. If I were you, I would not mention them here again. There is no protection here for you, other than from our Master, and he obviously could care less what you have to tell him."

"And when did I appoint you my voice, Lucius?" Asked a sibilant voice from the doorway. Lord Voldemort glided into the room with a soft whispering of velvet. He made a tall, lean figure in a floor-length black robe and black conical hat, both embroidered with blood red arcane symbols--pentagrams, runes, and empirical signs. His thin, grey lips were smiling--polite and urbane, while his eyes, treacherous as those of a Basilisk, watched them all.

Severus found it highly entertaining to watch Lucius backpedaling hastily. Lucius looked up at the new arrival, startled, wary, and fearful. The arrogant bully suddenly turned into an intimidated lapdog, trying to remember he was a wizard.

"My Lord Voldemort, I...I am honored that..."

With a sweep of his hand Voldemort dismissed Lucius, his attention fully focused on Lucius' son.

" 'Blandae mendacia linguae', young Master Malfoy?" Voldemort asked Draco. " 'The lies of a smooth tongue', they must run in the family. Did you, or did you not encounter a witch name Raven, and did she destroy your wand without use of one herself?"

Severus watched as Draco's fair skin flushed, and his pupils contracted to pinpoints of black in the grey haze of his eyes. To lie would be folly, and Draco knew it, but to tell the truth would make him look just as stupid as Wallace. Making Draco look foolish in front of his father would be the worst punishment Lord Voldemort could choose.

Youthful audacity won out over mature humility and Draco opened his foolish mouth with the wrong answer. "Why should I care what Potter's pet succubus can do?"

Voldemort looked Draco up and down sadly, clucking his tongue. "That's not what I asked you, Draco. I'd have thought your father would have taught you better. And such a shame you cannot tell the difference between a succubus and a White Witch."

Voldemort's eyes flashed like rubies, taking on a maniacal look that Severus recognized all too well. Voldemort wanted the White Witch of Helga's prophecy and both Wallace and Draco had failed to deliver her. What would he do when he realized Raven had been with Severus for a month now?

"A White Witch, Draco, will hold you in the palm of her hand and make you feel like you're in total control. In fact, with a White Witch you can have total control over magic, emotion, even death. A succubus will only touch you and hold you like this." Voldemort's wand darted out, stabbing at Draco while he intoned a short rhyming chant in an arcane tongue.

Draco doubled up shrieking, as if hot irons had been stabbed into his groin and belly. His eyes flew wide and his shrieks died away, replaced by a heavy, throaty panting. It looked as if something or someone was sucking the life from him. The touch of a succubus, Severus thought, carnal pleasure, release only in death. Shuddering spasms radiated painfully outward, rocking Draco with gratification for several moments and then died away, leaving him limp, and humiliated in soiled robes, but alive.

With a stare of contempt, Voldemort turned away. "Lucius," he began, "explain yourself. Why have these things escaped your attention? If the White Witch has come among us, should you not have known this? After all, Lucius, I left the affairs of Ravenglass in your care." The Dark Lord turned his focus to Wallace and beckoned him forward, while Lucius' face drew tight, fury flashing in his steely eyes.

"I was told, my Lord, Ezmarelda Ravenclaw had a young man and woman living with her," Lucius answered, trying to remain blameless, trying to taint Wallace instead of himself. "Both were too old and neither showed any signs of magic."

Wallace fell to his knees at the feet of Voldemort, while Draco pulled himself up with the assistance of the Death Eater closest to him. The panic on Wallace's face was unmistakable, while Draco's face held nothing but mortification.

"Wallace is incorrect, my Lord," Severus interrupted, bowing deeply, pressing his advantage while he could. "Her date of birth is the 21 September, 1980, and she is quite capable of magic." He willed his face into a smug smile as he pulled several rolls of parchment from his robes and handed them to Lord Voldemort.

Snapping his robes away from a groveling Wallace, Voldemort stepped around the man and sat calmly in the chair behind which Peter stood. Hurrying to the side table, Peter poured a goblet of wine from a crystal decanter and brought it to his master's waiting hand.

Severus watched and waited, careful to keep the smug smile of satisfaction upon his face. If Voldemort saw through his lie, then these charts, so carefully prepared with the incorrect information by Dumbledore, would prove useless. Everything hinged upon Voldemort's belief that Helga's Tarot readings and composite charts predicted the success or the failure of his future plans.

Unrolling each parchment, his eyes scanned them and his naked brow twitched upward as he nodded in approval several times. "Yes, yes, good. And Dumbledore still has the original journal, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord. Dumbledore prepared these with Helga's journal and the information the girl provided. I, in turned, copied them with the assistance of Mr. Votnarat's son," Severus said, looking over at the masked Death Eater at the door. His covered face turned to look straight at Severus, but his eyes clearly showed surprised at being recognized even with his identity concealed. "Everything you need is now there, Master," he finished.

"Everything but the girl, Severus. How long has Dumbledore had her?"

"Since the day she disappeared on Wallace. She Apparated right into the castle, Master." Severus was careful to keep his eyes level with Lord Voldemort's; to lie at this point in the game was risky. Mention of her ring would lead to too many questions.

"Quite capable of magic! Yes, a White Witch could get through Hogwarts' wards. Wonderful." Voldemort said.

Severus watched as Voldemort brought the rolls to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of them. Holding his breath for a moment, he slowly traced his lips with the papers' edges, contemplating ideas Severus feared.

"James?" Voldemort said with a hiss. Opening his eyes he looked down at the man prostrate on the floor. "You saw the witch called Raven in London and the next day in Ravenglass, and yet both you and Lucius failed," he said, his face darkening with wrath, "to inform me she...was...here?!"

"Wallace never told me she was here my Lord," Lucius stammered out, losing some of the calm he was trying to maintain. "I assure you if I had known..."

"Your son had drinks with her, Lucius, or did you fail to know that as well?"

"Master, please," Lucius implored calmly, "all Professor Snape need do is bring you the girl now. Surely..."

"Enough! I should have had her a month ago, before Dumbledore had a chance to prepare these. To prepare her!" He said.

Oh, yes, here it comes, Severus thought. Lucius had wasted no time in shifting Voldemort's attention back on him.

Voldemort's fingers darted out toward the door, his tongue rattling in a strange language. Standing, he drew his wand and pointed it at Wallace. "Peter? Tell me--are you a better spy as a rat or a man?"

"My...my Lord?" Peter squeaked in surprise at being addressed. "I don't understand?"

"A rat, or a man, Peter? It's not that hard of a question. Which makes a better spy?"

"Why, a ...a rat, of course."

"Then a rat it shall be," Voldemort said, a wide smile looking odd on his normally graven face. His hands moved swiftly out and traced a pattern in the air with his wand. "Mutatis Mutandis Rodentis." There, at Voldemort's feet, where a groveling Wallace had lay, sat a fat, white rat. It blinked, looking dazedly around--and saw the snake.

Two in fact. The massive, ten foot tapestry pythons that held the Malfoy family crest between their coiled bodies, were now stretching out through the door, heads lifted, jaws gapping wide. The guards at the door scrambled aside and even Severus found himself taking several steps back.

The rat gave a panicked squeak and turned, trying to run away. Voldemort's foot came down quick enough to catch the tail and hold the rat in place. It squirmed, turning and clawing at the boot that held him; but Voldemort flung up a hand, and the snake's eyes flicked to him, watchful and obedient. Voldemort chanted a phrase in Parselmouth and snapped his hand down, pointing at the rat and then Lucius.

Chewing at his own tail in an effort to escape, the rat squealed in terror, while Lucius Malfoy drew his wand in defense as one of the snakes oriented on him. The snake reared itself up, knocking aside the two guards who had moved to Lucius' side and then threw an undulating coil around Lucius' neck. His eyes bulged in terror, and a choking groan rose from his throat, as he clutched at the living cable around his neck.

Bending, Voldemort picked up the rat as it continued to bite and claw in an effort to escape. With a casual toss of his hand, Voldemort threw the rat into the waiting jaws of the snake weaving before him.

Draco, Avery and Votnarat rushed forward, Draco crying out "In Articulo Mortis Serpentes," but the massive snake only tightened its hold around Lucius, throwing several more coils around his body. A despairing, rattling groan squeezed past his lips.

"Master, please," Draco said pleadingly, bending on one knee to face Lord Voldemort. "If I had known who she was, I would have told my father what happened. He left long before she attacked me."

The sight of a pleading Draco surprised Severus. Draco never pleaded, but his ability to convincingly lie to get what he wanted hadn't changed a bit. Raven hardly attacked him!

Voldemort sat back upon the chair and leaned comfortably into it. The room was very quiet suddenly, Lucius having nearly run out of air while everyone else stared in silence at Draco and the blue-faced Lucius Malfoy. Peter's eyes darted back and forth between the two snakes and the men before him, as if worried he was to be the next meal.

Voldemort leered down at Draco and nodded his head in approval. "Yes, you are learning. There may be hope for you yet. I selected you as one of my personal guards; don't make me doubt my choice again. I give power just as I take it away, Draco. I ought to obliterate your father here and now, and would do so without a thought--if it weren't for the influence he holds in the Ministry. I will need him in place there soon. No," Voldemort said with infinite regret, "I must let him live."

With a toss of his wand and an additional word in Parselmouth, the snake released Lucius and joined its companion as it undulated slowly from the tower room. Lucius staggered over to lean against the wall, eyes closed, face ashen and glistening with sweat, breathing in long, shuddering gasps.

"Bear in mind, my power is still rising, as yours will with it." Voldemort said quietly. "You will be wise to remember, Draco," he finished, "which of us can best advance you before you beg for a life again.

And speaking of begging for one's life." Voldemort's gleaming eyes turned back to Severus. "Something you're well acquainted with, Severus." Their eyes locked for a moment and Severus knew it was his move again. With an obedient nod of his head, he looked down and waited.

"It would appear Dumbledore is once more in possession of something I want," Voldemort continued. He picked up the rolls of parchment and toyed with them, his long pale fingers traveling up and down the length of the rolls.

"Getting this information away from Dumbledore was not easy, Master. Getting the whole journal would be near to impossible."

"I have all the information I need with these, Severus. The only thing more I require is the girl. You will bring her to me before the next full moon."

Severus felt every nerve in his body fire at these words. So there it was, the unpredictability of the game. Severus was now in check. "That's impossible, Master," he answered as calm as his quaking mind would allow. "Dumbledore has her on a tighter leash than even Potter."

"I grow tired of your excuses, Severus."

"They are not excuses, they are facts!" Severus snarled louder than he intended. "Now is not the time to take the girl. Nothing is in place yet. Those charts and the Tarot readings can be used to plot all our moves. What lies in our power to do, lies also in our power not to do, if we use this information correctly."

"What the White Witch has to offer me has nothing to do with information!" Voldemort said, his hands crumpling convulsively around the documents so carefully prepared by Dumbledore. "Nothing in this world can be understood, before it is first known, before it happens! Only then do the foolish point to the prophetic words crying: see, it has come to pass. I make my own future, Severus!" He hissed out with exhilaration. "I will not rely on the writings of a witch a thousand years gone. Salazar Slytherin dispatched with Helga, just as I will do with Helga's words. You will bring her to me, Severus."

"No, my Lord. Not until you tell me what it is you plan." Checkmate, Severus thought to himself. If you want her, it will be under my terms, not yours. And if I don't bring her to you, good luck getting her away from Dumbledore, or for that matter, even Potter.

"MY PLANS, SEVERUS!" Voldemort stood and crossed the room in seconds to stand menacingly before Severus. "I NEED HER BODY! HER VERY BLOOD! NOT HER BIRTHDATE!" Voldemort shouted out venomously. "AND YOU DARE TO TELL ME NO! HEMOPILOS!" He shrieked out, pointing his wand directly at Severus' chest.

Severus knew how useless an attempt to block Voldemort's spell would prove. No one survived a duel with Voldemort. Almost no one. He stood tall and maintained his footing as the magic coursed through him, trying to hurl him back and down.

"Then you are talking Blood Magic," he said, trying to talk through the ripping agony in his chest. He didn't recognize the spell Voldemort had cast and he didn't know if he wanted to. "Master, I...I..." he began, but his thoughts suddenly left him as he felt a small trickle of something warm and wet run over the top of his lip. The coppery taste of blood reached his tongue and he licked it away, continuing. "I will prepare anything you need, but Blood Magic takes time and preparation. Both you and the White Witch will need to consume many potions in preparation to receive the spells required of Blood Magic. You know this to be a fact, not an excuse. Look how long it took you to prepare for Potter..."

His breathing sounded hollow in his ears, muffled, as if he heard it through water. His head began to spin, the corners of his vision blurring, tunneling down until they only focused on the Dark Lord, watching him through narrowed vision. And then he felt a wetness well up to spill over and ooze along the channel where earlobe meets neck, trickling forward and down to leech under his stiff collar.

~*~

The sound of slow breathing echoing in her ears had a calming, meditative effect on her. Floating free and nearly weightless upon the water seemed to relax her racing mind as effectively as her car would have. With only one difference she noted--her backside felt extremely cold. That and something had begun to tickle her calves and the hollow of her back. Raven wiggled in the water and then gasped out with a startled scream at the sensation that raced through her. Something was touching the underside of her body. Dropping her legs down, she opened her eyes and looked about her.

She had floated further out in the lake than she had wanted and realized she was in for a long swim back. Funny that plants could grow this far out from shore, she thought, as once again she felt her feet and legs make contact with something floating just below the surface of the water. Ocean seaweed often floated in patches in the Atlantic and she had swum through it many times before; somehow, though, this felt different, almost as if this plant had fingers...grabbing her.

Raven spun about, long slender legs flailing wildly to free herself from what ever had grabbed her foot, trying to entangle it. She had seen enough of Professor Sprout's plants to make her nervous about whatever had tried to latched on to her. Pushing hard for the shore, she angled away from the tangling water plants without a backward glance. When something slashed out again, catching her foot, she couldn't suppress the scream that escaped her lips. This wasn't a plant she was dealing with, the sharp pain in her calf and ankle told her so. Something had their teeth firmly implanted into her, dragging her under. Reaching down, she clawed frantically at the creature pulling her through a world of dark green. Kicking with her other foot she felt herself make contact with something hard and felt her calf torn from its grasp.

Free, she broke to the surface, arms flailing in her rush for air. Her freedom lasted for only a moment though, as she felt both her ankles snatched once more. The scream that tore from her throat this time came from terror as she felt herself being pulled even farther down beneath the water.

~*~

As a cry came through the darkness, echoing along the tree line, Harry pulled up to a stop, hovering above the pitch, uncertain if what he had heard came from the forest itself or the grounds of the castle. It sounded human enough, but still, it could have come from any number of creatures living in the forest. If the scream was human though... Flying over the tops of the Quidditch seats, Harry rushed along the forest line, knowing very well he was out there alone and very likely heading into another trap.

A scream came for a second time--a quick desperate yell--and Harry yanked up hard, stopping at the tree line, his eyes sweeping the horizon from castle to lake. Another scream sounded--raw, ragged and much nearer--causing Harry to swing toward it, certain now it came from the lake. Certain it came from a human. In the half moonlight, his eyes finally saw a figure struggling some distance from the shore.

Harry's body went into overdrive as he leaned into his broom, wind rushing through his hair, as he flew at top speed toward the figure. What fool was out of the castle, swimming in the lake in October? As he drew nearer, he watched in horror as two hands managed to grab only air as they slipped below the surface. Pulling his wand he leaned into a steep dive and hurdled to the surface, stopping barely a foot from the empty rings now radiating outward across the surface of the water.

~*~

Moonlight could not penetrate the murky depth in which Raven found herself. She lifted one leg up to her arms and tore at what felt like long bony fingers clinging tightly to her flesh. Breaking their grip, she tried for the other foot, only to find herself grabbed forcibly around her bare middle by a horrible, slimy coldness the thickness of a man's arm. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, and the steel-hard pressure that surrounded her from both water and her waist were now unbearable. No one knew where she was, and no one cared either. She was going to die alone, fish food in a lake whose name she didn't even know.

Once more, something seized her free foot and Raven found herself the unfortunate object in a deadly game of tug-of-war as the last of the air was squeezed from her lungs. A second coil wound itself around her left leg while flashes of light exploded in her oxygen-deprived brain. With a rough jerk, Raven felt herself yanked upward, several of the biting creatures still hanging strong to her feet.

Dazed and half choked on water, her head broke the surface and she gulped air into her empty lungs. Kicking her one free leg wildly, Raven found herself hoisted out of the water as she tried to rid her limbs of several horned, pale-green beasts, dangling heavily from them. The shock she felt when she realized she hung in the air was nothing compared to the realization that she was suspended there by two tentacles, with a third reaching across her body to deftly pluck one of the nasty little beasts from her left foot. A dark shape sleeked by her like a seal and bright red flashes seared at the remaining demons. Dropping like stones, they hit the water, returning to the depths from which they came.

As a fourth tentacle caught her free right leg, Raven croaked out a water logged cry and began a frenzied thrashing to free herself from an even bigger beast. The dark streak shouted something unintelligible and grabbed her wrists in a death grip. A tugging contest began again over her body, but this time she understood what the voice by her head had shouted.

"I've got her! Let go, now. I've got her!"

The tentacles casually unwound themselves from around Raven's body and she hung in midair, watching as a beak-toothed denizen of the deep slipped quietly back into the lake. Only after the water's surface had calmed, did Raven look up into the face of her rescuer.

"Aw, not again."

And Harry looked back at her. Her long black hair streamed water down her finely chiseled backside and her full breasts shown with water and moonlight as she gasped for breath, stretching the thin fabric of the bra taut across her. The view was magnificent but briefly enjoyed, as his anger with her clouded his vision.

"Yes, Raven. Again! What were you thinking? You just can't go swimming in the middle of the night--by yourself..."

Harry looked down and could see nothing but her eyes. They seemed dark blue in the moonlight, long-lashed, huge and deep. She was looking straight at him and he couldn't tell if the moisture on her cheeks came from the lake or tears. Their gazes locked, and a current seemed to flow through their joined hands. Every time he touched her, the reaction in him was the same; he didn't want to let her go.

Shifting his hold on her, he leaned back, pulling her up and across his legs. Not knowing where the thought came from, he considered paddling her backside as it presented itself, but she was wet and shivering violently either from cold or fright. He didn't want to drop her back into the water again. Turning his Firebolt, Harry hurried back to shore before she slid from his lap. He landed hard, dropping her gracelessly on the grass, and stood, trying not to stumble on top of her. His feet landed on either side of her legs and he stood towering over her as she rolled over and looked up.

"Har...Harry, I'm sooo, sorry! I didn't mean to... I didn't think... What was that...that thing?" She looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and this time fear.

"That's the problem Raven, you don't think," he answered furiously. "This is not one of your Broadway shows! It's real, all of it. The dragons, the squid, the spiders in the forest. All of them magical creatures capable of killing you. Don't you understand? This is not a game!"

"I know, I know," she cried out. "I just wanted to get away for a minute. Between Snape and his lessons and the other professors and theirs. I'm trying so hard to learn everything. My mother...magic was a part of her, and I want to know all of it because I'll never get to ask her what it was like, Harry. I feel like I'm scattered in a thousand pieces and magic is the only thing that can put me back together, but mum never showed me how!" She wailed, pulling her knees up and hugging them. She had reached the limits of her endurance and the events of the entire month came crashing down on her, burying her in hopeless frustration. "She was always there to show me, to talk to me, now there's no one but Snape, and Helga telling me how screwed-up my life is about to become by the Summer Solstice unless I learn real fast how to control what I am. I just needed...needed to be in control of my own life again." She threw her hands up in frustration and then hugged her knees again burying her face in her arms. "I'm sorry, Harry," she mumbled through her quiet sobs. "I'm sooo sorry."

The sudden fury Harry had felt with her had passed. Kneeling down next to her, he realized she was shaking harder than before. Between the cold lake water and the night air, he needed to get her into something dry and into the castle before hypothermia set in. Yes, he certainly needed to get her into some clothes. "Raven, I never knew my Mum or Dad, so I can't pretend to know what it's like to miss them. To miss what they could have done for me personally. I didn't have parents to show me magic, or to talk to me or tell me things. I found that here at Hogwarts. So I do understand something of what you're feeling. You need more than a month to adjust, much more than even a year."

"Harry that's all the time I've got." She sobbed, lifting her head from her arms and looking at him in a way that pulled his heart to his throat. Her voice took on a low harmonic quality and her moonlit eyes looked into their future and spoke with the voice of a seer: "The Thief of Death tastes his end on Litha's Midsummer Night's Eve. Honored sons shall return with the sunrise, Dog star, Wolf, and Cup King three. Longest day of the year, Litha, life abundant; Bendith Y Mamau to the White Raven and Lion, libations and unity. " She stopped and looked at him imploringly. "Harry it's all about us! We have to do something, together with another man, the King of Cups--it's not Dumbledore, of that much I am sure. Together Harry; but for the first time in my life all I feel is alone, and I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"No, Raven, you're not alone. I won't leave you to do this on your own. I'm a part of it too." He smiled encouragingly at her, and reached out to wipe the water from her face. He was still uncertain if it was lake water or tears that glistened on her cheeks. She leaned into his touch, resting her cheek in the palm of his hand and smiled weakly back at him.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away, and in that one instant there was nothing but himself and the beautiful raven-haired girl sitting on the grass before him. As they moved towards each other, their bodies automatically responding to the situation, a part of Harry's subconscious mind was screaming at him to stop. He could not let himself feel for anyone. The risk of loss was just too great now. He couldn't risk these feelings that were awakening within him every time he saw her smile. Heard her laugh. Touched her hand. This was wrong.

The voice of warning sounded like a child's cry in a hurricane, however, as desire overcame them both, chasing all rational thoughts away in the excitement of the moment. Closing his eyes and allowing his other senses to take over, Harry brought his hand around to the hollow of her bare back, pulling her toward him. He felt Raven lean closer, bringing her free hand up to the back of his neck, its cold wetness sending shivers through him. Before he could stop himself, before he even realized what he wanted from her, he leaned down and kissed her shivering lips, still wet with lake water. As the kiss deepened, he felt Raven respond with increasing enthusiasm. She pressed close to him as if for safety or warmth, and Harry realized she could not press close enough to make him happy.

Harry broke the kiss, but it was only to help her stand and drink more of her in. How she had the nerve to swim in the lake in nothing more than that bloomin' black bra and panties was beyond his comprehension. Why he had ever given her the money for them he'd never know. He moved his lips to her neck, which caused her to tilt her head back allowing him greater access, and he felt her shiver against him either from the cold or the emotionally charged energy passing between them. Then he found her lips again, and for a while the world around them ceased to exist.

When a semblance of coherent thought returned to his mind, it was with the unfortunate realization that he needed to stop soon before he lost control. His desire for her had reached an almost painful stage; he had already made the mistake of kissing her, and he drug himself back from the brink before any more damage was done. Stepping back, he cradled her face in his hands, and felt how cool and smooth her skin was. His hands, warm on her lake-iced skin, seemed to be doing something to her that he could only imagine. But most amazing to him, he heard her make a wonderful little insatiable noise in her throat, that gave him goose bumps immediately as he broke the contact between them. If she felt like he did, these sensations had nothing to do with prophecies or magic spells; this was a physical need he had never known before.

"Harry..." she said breathlessly, "I..."

"No, don't. It was my fault. We can't. It's just that...ah, bloody hell." And he turned and did the only thing that made him feel safe. Grabbing his Firebolt he turned from her and mounted, kicking hard away from the ground. Rising as fast as he could, he shot away from her, away from the feelings she stirred in him. Away from the aching fear that accompanied any thoughts of her.

"Right Harry, you won't leave me to do this on my own," Raven said with wretched sadness, as she watched Harry fly quickly away. With a heavy sigh, she set out at a run for the castle.