The Awakened Sleeper

Author's Note: Just a warning, folks. Things are going to get a little dark in this chapter. Not R-rated dark, though...the PG-13 variety of darkness.

"When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...."

-- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter 10

Possession Obsession

Feeling groggy and disoriented, Cressida slowly opened her eyes. Once she was able to focus, she took in her surroundings, attempting to determine where she was. Straight ahead of her was a brick wall, which appeared to be the side of a building. The ground was littered with empty packing crates. More crates were stacked a few yards to her left, creating a wall of sorts that obstructed her view. When she looked up, she could see the slightly overcast afternoon sky. After a minute or two, she realized that she was standing against another brick wall adjacent to the one in front of her.

It's an alley. I'm standing in an alley, but why? As soon as the thought entered her mind, Cressida's memory came flooding back to her all at once. Evan approaching her outside Scrivenshaft's...his all but convincing performance...the chilling look in his eye as he cast a Stunning Spell on her....

I remember now, she thought. He Stunned me...but I'm conscious now, which means he's lifted the spell. He's around here somewhere, but that doesn't matter. I've got to get out of here! She tried to move her legs, but she couldn't. It wasn't like before, when fear had paralyzed her, keeping her from running away. This time Cressida was physically incapable of moving her legs. Bastard put a Leg-Locker Curse on me! She immediately opened her mouth to scream for help, only to discover that Evan had cast a Silencing Charm on her as well. He's certainly thought of everything, hasn't he?

"This is quite entertaining, watching you try to work out what's going on." Cressida's head snapped to her right as her captor stepped out from behind more precariously stacked crates. "By now, I'm sure you know where you are, that you can't run, and that you can't call for help," Evan taunted as he approached her. "I'm also positive you've worked out that even though I haven't performed a Full Body Bind on you, the use of your arms won't do you a bit of good since I've obviously taken your wand."

Of course you did, you sorry waste of space! Cressida refused to give up hope that she could get herself out of this predicament. She still had the use of her upper body; surely she could think of some way to use this to her advantage. I need a weapon--my chopsticks! If I can get him to come closer... But the thought died as a thick lock of her wavy hair blew into her face.

Evan's cold mirthless smile spread across his face as his steps brought him closer to her. "What's the matter, Cressida? Looking for those pointy, potentially dangerous sticks you use to pin your hair up?" he asked as he watched her frantically run her fingers through her hair. "I've always preferred your hair down, myself." Evan was now close enough to Cressida that she could see his pupils dilate; close enough to caress the waves of mahogany cascading down her shoulders. He ran his hands down the length of her hair. "It frames your face so beautifully," he murmured as he cupped his hands around both sides of Cressida's face. "So I took it upon myself to relieve you of your hair adornments."

As Evan's fingers began lightly stroking her face, Cressida's skin began to crawl. She closed her eyes as she thought, I cannot believe this is happening to me! I should have run as soon as I saw him. Why didn't I run? Her heart began to race at the thought of how far this situation could go. She immediately grabbed both of his wrists, shoving his hands away from her face.

Evan stepped back, laughing cruelly as he said, "You don't want me to touch you. Fine, I won't...yet." He turned around and walked to the opposite wall where more crates were haphazardly stacked. "You know," he said casually as he unclasped his cloak and swept it off his shoulders, "I get so worked up around you, I don't need to wear this cloak to keep warm anymore." Evan carefully folded the cloak and set it on top of the stack of crates. He cast Cressida a glance over his shoulder. "You really get the old juices flowing...so to speak."

Cressida rolled her eyes to demonstrate how unimpressed she was with him. "Must you be so flippant, Cressida?" Evan asked, feigning anguish. "I've shared my heart and soul with you today, and all I've received in return is mocking." Evan pulled a crate in front of Cressida and sat on it. "I wasn't lying to you earlier. All right, maybe I wasn't sincere," he amended after Cressida flashed her middle finger in his face, "but I wasn't lying, either.

"You see, I meant it when I said I've fancied you since fourth year. I really have," he said conversationally as he rested his forearms on his knees. "How could I not? You're easily the best looking girl in our year. Hell...the best looking girl in the school! I'd be hard pressed to find a girl at Hogwarts as beautiful as you are.

"I've had my eye on you for a long time, Cressida," Evan continued as he leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his legs. "I've been watching you. Watching you with your friends; watching you laugh with them. I love to watch you laugh, Cressida. You laugh with your whole body. You throw your head back, your shoulders shake, and eventually, if you're really tickled, you stamp your feet. I love to watch you do other things, too."

In Cressida's stomach, a small knot of dread had been steadily growing larger and larger the more Evan spoke. As he talked, Cressida studied his face and found nothing. There was no emotion at all. Cressida hugged herself as a chill shivered throughout her body. For the first time, she realized that she was no longer wearing her cloak. Yet she knew that the coldness she felt had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

"I love watching you study," said Evan as he stood up again and began pacing back and forth. "The way you nibble and suck on the end of your quill when you're thinking really hard about something.... I've often wondered if you were aware that I was watching you, teasing me with that walk of yours." He ceased his pacing and looked Cressida in the eye. "I want you, Cressida. I always get what I want. Always."

My God...to him, I'm just some object he can't have, like a toy or something, Cressida thought as the dread began to rise from her stomach and up into her throat.

"I think I've been pretty patient up till now, Cressida," Evan murmured, icicles hanging from every word. Suddenly, he rushed over to her, grabbed both her wrists, and pinned her arms against the wall on either side of her head. He slowly leaned his head down toward her ear, nuzzling the side of her face with his nose as he did so. "My patience is wearing thin, Cressida," he whispered into her ear. "One way or another, I will get what I want today."

Cressida struggled to free herself from his grasp, but Evan held her wrists even tighter. When the pain became too great to bear, she took in a sharp breath of air, silently gasping in agony. Panic began to take over as she finally accepted the fact that there was no way she would be able to get herself out of this situation.

"Are you scared, yet, Cressida?" jeered Evan as he watched her chest rapidly rise and fall with every terrified breath she took. "Good...you should be...."

Sirius will come looking for me, Cressida thought, desperately clinging to one last shard of hope. I've been gone longer than I intended. He'll come for me, I know he will...

*~*~*~*

Sirius was sitting in the booth at The Three Broomsticks, halfheartedly listening to his friends as he flicked at the edge of a coaster. As he watched it spin round and round, he couldn't help but wonder what Cressida was up to. She had said she was going to Scrivenshaft's and that she wouldn't be long--but that was nearly forty-five minutes ago. The little shop wasn't that far away; maybe a five-minute walk. It had seemed that Cressida knew exactly what she was going to Scrivenshaft's to buy, so her actual time in the store shouldn't have been longer than ten to fifteen minutes, tops. Giving her another five minutes to make the return trip, Sirius estimated that the elapsed time of her excursion should have been twenty to twenty-five minutes long.

Staring at his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time since she left, Sirius grew a bit more anxious. He didn't want to be one of those possessive blokes who wanted a minute-by-minute accounting of his girlfriend's whereabouts. He was just enthused about the breakthrough he'd made with Cressida, and he didn't want to lose the momentum.

Girlfriend? he thought to himself, smirking slightly at the idea. Maybe I'm jumping the gun a little. Sirius was eager to finish talking with Cressida so that he would know exactly where he stood with her. However, she'd have to arrive before any of that could happen.

As the time she spent away grew longer and longer, Sirius found himself getting more and more worried. Maybe there was a bigger crowd at Scrivenshaft's than she thought there would be, he thought to himself, trying to find some justification for Cressida's lateness. I'll give her another five minutes or so. Until those five minutes were up, he decided to distract himself by actually participating in the conversation that was on the table.

"What's the hold up, Peter?" he asked impatiently, taking out his frustrations on an easy target. "You should've had your portion of the map finished ages ago." Tegan was in the restroom and her absence from the table afforded the four friends several minutes to discuss this very top-secret subject.

"I'm sorry!" Peter hissed agitatedly. "You know transfiguration isn't my best subject, and I've had to work twice as hard this term to keep up. I'm doing my best."

"How close are you to being finished, Peter?" asked James consolingly, playing good Auror to Sirius's bad Auror.

"I can have it finished by the end of the week, I think," replied Peter.

"Good," Sirius said moodily. "Just get it done; the three of us will help take up the slack in transfiguration...just like we've always done."

"Th-thanks, Sirius," Peter stammered. James and Remus exchanged glances of equal parts surprise and concern over Sirius's thinly veiled reference to the fact that Peter had needed a substantial amount of help with one extracurricular bit of transfiguration in particular.

"Erm...Sirius? You okay?" James asked cautiously, not wanting Sirius to unleash his bad mood on him.

Sirius had resumed his game of "Spin the Coaster". "I'm fine, James," he answered, his eyes never leaving the coaster as it whirled around on the table. Sirius could feel all three of his friends staring at him. He looked each one of them in the eye as he reiterated, "I'm fine, really." With that, he went back to playing with the coaster. James shrugged his shoulders and turned to Peter, asking him to explain what aspect of transfiguration was currently troubling him.

Remus, however, continued to watch as Sirius resumed his game of avoidance. He reached a hand across the table to stop the latest round of the game. In a small voice only Sirius could hear, he said, "Maybe she stopped to talk to a friend; lost track of time?" Sirius looked up to see Remus giving him a lopsided grin of understanding. Being the most reserved of the foursome, Remus was extremely observant, and as such, often picked up on the subtleties of human behavior much faster than the rest of them ever did.

"Yeah," Sirius said, returning the smile. "I'm sure that's what it is. She'll be back soon, right?"

"Of course she will. It's not like she dropped off the face of the--"

"Not another bleedin' attack!" a loud voice bellowed from the bar on the other side of the establishment. "Damn all werewolves! They oughta round up the lot of 'em and kill 'em all! The world would be much better off."

There was a brief moment when the jovial din of conversation and reveling ceased, leaving only a deafening silence in its wake. Every person in The Three Broomsticks had turned to look at the gruff old man who had shouted the invective.

Rosmerta, who had been behind the bar filling orders, raced over to the old man. "Calm down, Marv!" she scolded in a loud hiss. "You're upsetting the other customers!"

It seemed that Marv could not be placated easily. "I don't give a toss! They need to know what's goin' on in the world around 'em. A damn sin and a shame, it is. Children can't play in their own gardens without bein' attacked by one of them monsters!"

Grabbing both of Marv's hands, Rosmerta said soothingly, "I know you're upset, but some of that is the Ogden's talking. What you need is a good strong cup of coffee to take some of the edge off, all right?" Without waiting for Marv's permission, Rosmerta went about the task of preparing his coffee.

As the silence in the pub quickly became a hushed murmur of nervous whispers, Marv could be heard mumbling, "A sin and a shame, I tell ya..."

They had been avoiding his gaze during the duration of Marv's outburst, but now James, Sirius, and Peter all turned to look at Remus, who was understandably looking a bit peaky.

"M-maybe we should leave," Peter whispered apprehensively. "You don't want to hear all that rubbish, do you, Remus?"

Remus slowly shook his head. "No," he said swallowing thickly. "I'm not leaving until I know what happened."

"I'm on it!" James wasted no time in hopping out of his seat in search of a copy of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. As James was leaving, Tegan was slowly approaching the table, looking around as she noticed the change in the tone and quality of the chatter in the room.

"What's going on?" she asked as she returned to her seat next to Peter. "I was in the restroom when I heard someone shouting, and then it got quiet. What happened?"

"Werewolf attack." Sirius had responded to Tegan's question, but he still had his sights on Remus, who had an unmistakable look of guilt on his face--as if he was the culprit.

"Oh," Tegan said meekly. "But there wasn't a full moon last night, was there?"

"No, there wasn't," said Remus with certainty. "You don't suppose someone was mistaken, do you?" he asked, a naïve hopefulness etched on his face as he looked at Sirius for confirmation.

"It's possible," answered Sirius, though it was clear that he was only saying this to ease Remus's mind.

By this time, James had returned with a copy of the Daily Prophet, and without preamble, proceeded to read the front page story aloud.

"'The remains of Anthony Butler, age 5, were found yesterday in a small forest approximately three kilometers north of his home. The only child of Charles and Rosemary Butler, the boy was last seen by his parents on September 8, playing in the garden of the young family's home in Rockingham.'" James looked up at the group as he said, "That was the date of the last full moon; a month ago next Friday."

Tegan held her hand to her heart. "That's awful! Not knowing where your child is for almost a month, only to find that he's dead..."

"The article said that they found his remains," Sirius said. "How do they know for sure a werewolf killed him?"

James quickly scanned the article for more information. "The article says, 'Evidence was found at the scene by members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the details of this evidence have been withheld from the press, investigators confirm that the evidence is consistent with that of a werewolf attack.'"

Remus nodded his head gravely as James confirmed his worst fears. "So whoever did it kidnapped the boy the day of the full moon, attacked him, and just left him somewhere to die...."

Sirius looked at his friend, knowing that this tragic story hit a little too close to home for Remus. Attempting to keep everyone focused on the facts of this latest attack, Sirius asked, "Do they have any idea who did it?"

James read on. "'Because of the nature of the crime, the case has been handed over to the Auror Office, which is employing the use of an outside consultant for assistance in creating a profile of the possible perpetrator of the crime.'"

"An outside consultant?" Tegan asked softly.

"Yeah," confirmed James. "His name is--"

"--Angus Watts," she said with certainty.

"How'd you know?" James asked, frowning as he began skimming the back page of the paper for the name.

"I know because he's my father."

Four sets of eyes were now focused on the soft-spoken girl in astonishment. Remus was the first to speak.

"Your dad is an expert on werewolves?"

"He's not just an expert; he hunts them," Tegan answered grimly. "If they've got him helping them, they're not looking to bring the werewolf in alive."

"H-how do you know for sure?" Peter asked as his eyes darted back and forth between Tegan and Remus. "They could just want his advice, or something."

Tegan slowly shook her head. "There are a few werewolves my dad has been after for a long time. If Aurors have brought him in on the case, they already have a good idea who did it. They just don't want the public to know about it."

"So," James said quietly, "if your dad is on the case, that automatically means that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is just going to execute this guy without a trial or anything?"

Before Tegan could answer, Remus blurted out, "What difference does it make whether or not he gets a trial, James? He's a monster! He just stole that kid's life like...like he was nothing. Like he didn't matter. Who cares if he gets a trial?"

Sirius knew that Remus had stepped into the young boy's shoes--a task that, unfortunately, was not very difficult for Remus to do. As the rest of them sat there debating the what-ifs and the maybes of this particular crime, Remus had been silently comparing them to the events that had led to his own lycanthropic transformation. There was no doubt in Sirius's mind that was what Remus had been doing, because Sirius had been doing the exact same thing. Now, he knew that the both of them had come to the same conclusion--the culprit of this latest crime may have been the same twisted soul who had left Remus alive to live a life of tormented duality.

"For all we know, Remus, this guy may not have known what he was doing," James explained. "The kid might have wandered off, got lost, and wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"He's right, Remus. People don't remember what they've done when they're in their wolf form," said Tegan, completely unaware that Remus knew the effects of a werewolf transformation quite well. "People deserve a chance to defend themselves in court, even werewolves. But if my dad is involved, there's no way that's going to happen." She lowered her eyes as if she was ashamed to look at the others.

Sirius took this opportunity to exchange meaningful glances with his three friends. It seemed that the four of them were thinking the same thing--that there was much more to Tegan Watts than any of them had ever realized.

"So, your dad is in on some government conspiracy to wipe out werewolves?" asked Peter anxiously.

Tegan gave a short, hollow laugh. "I don't know what the Ministry has planned, but I know my father. He's going to be out for blood. Whether they want him to or not, if he finds the werewolf, he's going to try to kill him."

"Why?" Remus asked softly. "I don't want to pry, but you seem pretty sure of yourself."

Tegan was silent for a moment, her eyes downcast as she appeared to be deciding whether or not she should answer. After a span of time that seemed to take several lifetimes to pass, she said, "My dad absolutely hates werewolves, especially ones who prey on children. When he was eight, the same thing that happened to that boy happened to my dad's little sister. She was only six years old. My dad was the one who found...well, what was left of her."

The table was quiet as the weight of this new information settled on them. After a few minutes, Remus said, "So that's why your dad does what he does. I can't say that I blame him."

Tegan looked up at Remus, her gray eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can! He spent years of his life trying to track down and kill the werewolf who killed his sister, and he did. But instead of letting it rest there, he's lumped all werewolves together." As she got more and more agitated, the words continued to flow from Tegan's mouth like water from a faucet on full blast. "To my dad, they're all guilty. They're all monsters. My mother and I--we've tried to get him to understand that most of the time, they're just ordinary people like any of us, but he doesn't care. It's like he's obsessed or something!"

Tegan stopped to catch her breath, and looked around at the group as if she just noticed that they were all sitting there. Her wet eyes widened and her pale skin blanched even more as she realized what she'd just done. She clapped her hands to her mouth.

"You all probably think I'm a freak now!" she said. Although her voice was muffled by her hands, the mortification was still quite evident in her voice. Before any of them could stop her, she jumped up and ran towards the restrooms.

"Move, James!" Remus exclaimed at once, scooting out of the booth so he could go after Tegan. Once James was out of his way, Remus quickly followed her.

"Poor kid," James said as he sat back down. "She's no freakier than any of the rest of us."

"Humph!" Sirius snorted. "I'd go a step further and say we've got her beat in the freakiness department, hands down. Think about it, James; we're pretty messed up."

"True," agreed James.

Peter turned his head towards the restrooms and said, "Moony'll help her feel better. But what are we going to say to help him feel better?" He leaned in closely and whispered, "I mean, did you see the look on his face? And sympathizing with a werewolf hunter? What was that all about?"

"Guilt," answered Sirius. "It's crazy, because we all know he didn't have anything to do with it, but he still feels guilty. But at the same time, he understands where Tegan's dad is coming from. What would you do if you had the chance to get the guy who stole your life from you? If Remus knew who turned him, do you think he wouldn't want to kill him for what he did?"

James shook his head. "Remus? Get real, Sirius. He's not the type."

"Think about it; really think about it. Somebody purposely sets out to kill your mum or dad, James. What would you do? I mean if we were talking about my family, I'd probably buy the guy a pint and call it a day. But if it was somebody I really cared about, I would..." Sirius stopped talking as an image of Cressida popped into his head. His eyes shot to his watch in alarm. With all the turmoil surrounding the news of the werewolf attack, Sirius had completely forgotten about the five-minute grace period he'd given her. It had been almost an hour since the girl had left The Three Broomsticks.

He grabbed his cloak and said, "I've gotta go. Let me out, Peter."

As Peter complied with Sirius's sudden request, James frowned and said, "What's going on? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

"I'm going to see what the hell is keeping Cressida," Sirius replied as he swept his cloak around his shoulders and fastened it. "She should've been back a while ago." He ran his hands through his hair and sighed in frustration, his concern for Remus conflicting with his worry over Cressida. "Look, when those two get back, try to change the subject or something. I don't think either one of them needs to be worried about this attack right now." Without waiting for a response, Sirius turned around and walked out of The Three Broomsticks.

Once he was outside, he began walking up the High Street towards Scrivenshaft's. He questioned every Hogwarts student he saw on the way, asking them if they'd seen Cressida. With every negative response, Sirius got more and more worried. His mind started drifting toward worst-case scenarios that involved Cressida being kidnapped by gangs of bloodthirsty werewolves, vampires, and hags.

Don't be stupid, you git, Sirius thought to himself as he entered Scrivenshaft's. The full moon is still another week away; it's broad daylight, so that rules out vampires, too, and hags like to eat small children. As Sirius looked around for the proprietor, he saw that the small shop was nearly deserted. I hope this place was this empty when Cressida was here. The shopkeeper is bound to remember seeing her.

"May I help you, young man?" a raspy, but gentle voice asked Sirius. Sirius looked over to his right and saw an ancient man with a cane walking towards him with great effort. It was Mr. Scrivenshaft, the proprietor of the shop. The old man was the latest in a long line of Scrivenshafts to run the family business. As Sirius watched the frail old man gingerly walk toward him, he couldn't help thinking to himself that this particular Scrivenshaft had better find a replacement soon, if he hadn't already.

To keep Mr. Scrivenshaft from expending more energy than was necessary, Sirius walked over to meet him. "Yes, sir. I'm looking for a girl--"

"Well, son," Mr. Scrivenshaft interrupted, "I'm afraid we don't sell those here. Where do you think you are, Knockturn Alley?"

Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he replied, "No, sir, you misunderstand me. I'm looking for a girl who was in this shop about an hour ago."

"Oh, well I think I can help you with that," the old man said, smiling warmly at Sirius. "What did she look like?"

Now we're getting somewhere, Sirius thought. "She has dark brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black jumper, a long denim skirt, and black high-heeled boots. The boots would have made her the same height as me. Do you remember her?"

Mr. Scrivenshaft closed his eyes as he tried to picture the girl Sirius had just described. "Hmm...no, I'm afraid I don't. Oh, yes," he cried as his eyes flew open, "I've just remembered that I was in the workroom an hour ago! My nephew was running the store at that time. Perhaps he saw the girl. Wait here a moment while I go and fetch him." He turned around and slowly began the trek to the back of the store.

Now that Mr. Scrivenshaft's back was turned, Sirius did roll his eyes. I really don't have time for this! I'll be here until Christmas waiting for Father Time to get there and back.

"Sir," he said respectfully, "you look like you could use a little rest. Why don't you tell me exactly where the workroom is, and I'll go and talk to him myself?"

"Oh, that would be nice!" Mr. Scrivenshaft rasped jovially. "They say young people don't respect their elders anymore, but Hogwarts students have always been good to me. I don't get around as well as I used to, you know. On cloudy days like this, my knees tend to seize up on me. I have to rely on my third leg, here..."

Sirius didn't want to rush the old man as he continued to ramble about his ailments, but time was of the essence. "The workroom, sir?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Walk straight back to the end of that aisle over there," Mr. Scrivenshaft said as he pointed with the end of his cane, "and take a right. You'll see a door on the back wall. That's the workroom. Just knock on the door and Channer will let you in."

"Channer?"

"My nephew," Mr. Scrivenshaft answered. "He'll be taking over the running of the shop one of these days. Never had any children of my own, so I'm bequeathing the store to my brother's son. Anyway, Channer will be able to help you out."

"Thank you for your help, sir," Sirius called over his shoulder as he quickly made his way to the back of the shop. He ran down the aisle Mr. Scrivenshaft had pointed out to him, past shelves of wooden receptacles with all sorts of quills arranged by feather type. Once he made it to the end of the aisle, he took a right. Just as Mr. Scrivenshaft had described, there was a door on the back wall of the shop. On it hung a sign that said, EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. Sirius rapped on the door as hard as he could. Beyond the door, he could hear a clattering noise as if the person on the other side of the door had dropped some tools. A moment later, the door flew open.

"You startled me!" said a man who was considerably younger than the old man in the front of the shop, but was still old enough for a substantial amount of his auburn hair to have thinned out on the top of his head.

"I'm sorry about that," said Sirius impatiently. "Are you Channer Scrivenshaft?"

"Why, yes I am," said Channer, knitting his bushy eyebrows together at the tone that Sirius had taken with him. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help. I'm looking for a girl who came into the shop a little over an hour ago. Your uncle said you may have seen her."

"On the weekends the Hogwarts students are in town, we usually have a rush of students looking to replenish their school supplies early in the day," Channer said thoughtfully. "The crowds usually thin out around midday." He closed his eyes, just as his uncle had done a few minutes prior. "There were several people here an hour ago, but I do remember a young girl here around that time. Dark brown hair pinned up with sticks--"

"That's her!" Sirius interjected. "What can you tell me about her visit?"

Channer scratched the top of his balding head as he tried to recall his interactions with Cressida. "Well, she was looking for a gift for her best friend. I spent some time showing her some nice calligraphy quills. She eventually chose a lovely peacock feather quill, paid for it, and left." Channer looked down at his watch. "That was quite some time ago, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir. That's why I'm looking for her. She was supposed to meet me at The Three Broomsticks when she was finished here," Sirius said, worry causing the pitch of his voice to rise slightly. "Please, is there anything else you can remember?"

"Now that you've mentioned The Three Broomsticks, I do seem to recall that she said something about going back there once she left here. She seemed to be in a rather cheerful mood at the time. I don't know what else to tell you other than that," Channer replied sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize," said Sirius, vigorously shaking his head. "You've been a big help. Thank you."

Channer briefly nodded his head in acknowledgment. "I hope you find her."

"I do, too," Sirius said bleakly. "Thanks, again." He turned around and swiftly made his way to the front door, distractedly waving as Mr. Scrivenshaft said good-bye.

Once he was back outside, Sirius began pacing back and forth in front of the shop, kicking at a stray piece of rubbish on the side of the road in frustration. Okay, think. What do I know? he thought to himself, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. I know that she made it to Scrivenshaft's and bought a quill for Lily. I also know that she didn't spend much time in the store, and she had every intention of returning to The Three Broomsticks. The question is, where has she been for the last forty-five minutes or so? He looked up and down the High Street, hoping to find some clue, some shred of evidence that Cressida hadn't just disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Providence, it seemed, was smiling down on him, for at that precise moment something on the ground several yards away caught his eye. He raced across the street and knelt down next to the small golden shopping bag with the word Scrivenshaft's scrawling itself elegantly across the front in black lettering. With nervous hands, Sirius picked up the bag and looked inside to see a long, slender box.

Maybe someone was doing a lot of shopping and dropped one of their bags without knowing it, Sirius rationalized. Just because I found a Scrivenshaft's bag with a quill box in it doesn't mean anything. That's practically all they sell at Scrivenshaft's. Even as these thoughts rolled around in his mind, he knew what he would find inside the gift box he was lifting the lid off of--a peacock feather calligraphy quill.

This confirmation of his worst fears made Sirius's blood run cold. This quill is a gift for Lily. The only way Cressida would have dropped it is if something bad happened to her. He stood up and looked at his surroundings. If I wanted to kidnap somebody, where would I take them? I definitely wouldn't want to be seen. The bag had been dropped almost directly in front of an alley between two shops across the street from Scrivenshaft's. Hoping that whoever had Cressida had not Apparated with her to Timbuktu, Sirius cautiously began walking towards the alley, uncertain about what he was about to walk into. All he cared about was finding Cressida and making sure she was safe.

*~*~*~*

Cressida realized very quickly that the more she showed how much pain he was causing her, the more...excited Evan would get. So she had stopped wincing and trying to break free several minutes ago. Nevertheless, Evan had continued to hold her wrists so tightly that she was beginning to lose the feeling in her fingers.

For the last several minutes, he'd been leering at her hungrily, like a starving man about to sit down to a feast. "I suppose you're wondering why I've waited so long for this moment," he murmured. "It's been several months since our encounter in the corridor, after all." Evan looked up at her expectantly, waiting for some type of reaction.

Oh, he wants to gloat, Cressida thought. Perfect! He loves the sound of his own voice; maybe I can buy some time. She lifted her eyebrows at him, granting him permission to explain himself.

To Cressida's great relief, Evan let her wrists go and began slowly pacing back and forth in front of her. "After you rejected me, I decided I would try to forget about you. So I tried to focus on Bronwen; she is my girlfriend. That worked for a little while, but then we went home for the summer." Evan stopped to look Cressida in the eye. "Try as I might, I just couldn't stop thinking about you. You know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder? It's true."

Cressida fought the urge to roll her eyes, lest she incur Evan's wrath again. Instead, she simply closed them, unable to look at him for another moment. He actually thinks he loves me. Of all the girls at Hogwarts, why did he fixate on me? What did I do to make him think there was even the slightest chance I'd ever be interested in him?

Evan continued to pace. "So I spent the whole summer thinking about you, wondering where you were, what you were doing. By the time I hopped onto the Hogwarts Express last month, I'd made up my mind that somehow I would have you. My original plan was to get you to gradually warm up to me, but you buggered up that plan."

Cressida's eyes and mouth flew open as she glared at Evan with an unmistakable look of incredulity. He's blaming all this on me?

"That's right," Evan said, as if he was reading her mind. He stalked over to her and got right in her face. "You're the one who decided to try and embarrass me in front of my friends at dinner that evening in the Great Hall. If Wilkes had been the only one to see you show me up, it wouldn't have been so bad. He's an idiot, a puppet. If he was on fire, he'd stand there and burn to ashes before making one move without my say so."

Evan roughly grabbed Cressida's face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "But he wasn't the only one to see it. You just had to do that to me while Severus Snape was sitting there, didn't you? Snape is the only person in Slytherin who could make my life at Hogwarts a living hell. He's not as malleable as most of my housemates are; he thinks too much. He could make life very hard for me if he wanted to. Luckily, he doesn't, but you," Evan said menacingly as he squeezed Cressida's jaws even harder and shook her head for emphasis, "gave him just the ammunition he needs if he ever changes his mind. Nobody humiliates me like that and gets away with it--not even you." With that, Evan violently released Cressida, inadvertently knocking her head against the brick wall behind her.

Cressida closed her eyes as blinding pain spread from the spot where she connected with the wall to the rest of her head, tears involuntarily rolling down her cheeks. The pain was so intense that she was incapable of rational thought for a moment. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes to see that Evan had resumed his pacing, oblivious to the agony that he'd just put her through.

"Interestingly enough, it was Severus who gave me the opportunity I needed to get you alone. He's been so busy trying to work on that sodding Potions project of his that he gave up a Hogsmeade visit to study with that Mudblood friend of yours. Annoying little know-it-all bitch never leaves your side, does she?"

Evan's mentioning of Lily cut through the haze that had filled Cressida's brain. She scowled at him for referring to her best friend in such a derogatory manner. However, Evan paid Cressida no attention. Once he had started recounting the events that led to their present position, Evan continued to sing like a bird, just as she predicted he would. Just keep on singing, you son of a bitch, she thought viciously.

"So I've been following you all day, patiently waiting for the chance to get you right where I want you." Evan stopped pacing and glared at Cressida. "And here we are. Things didn't have to end up this way, you know. Maybe if you'd been a little nicer to me, I could have been a little nicer to you. Or maybe," he said as he began advancing on her again, "you like things a little rough. Maybe you purposely provoked me so that I had no other choice than to punish you." He lightly ran his finger down her cheek and tipped her chin up. "Is that what you did?" he whispered, a sadistic grin spreading across his face.

Cressida jerked her head away from him in response. "I suppose you didn't," Evan said. "As you so eloquently put it last term, your lips will never touch 'Slytherin swine', right? Maybe I should let you go; write you off as a lost cause. There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

Good! Now he's actually starting to make some sense. Go fixate on somebody else, and leave me the hell alone!

Evan's smile broadened, and the flecks of gold in his eyes seemed to intensify. "There is this one cute little Ravenclaw I've had my eye on. She's a fourth year, I think. You two share the same coloring; same hair and eye color. She reminds me of you a little bit, but she's got the cutest little dimples you ever did see."

The relief Cressida felt was short-lived as she listened to Evan describe the other girl. Please don't be talking about who I think you're talking about. She closed her eyes and made that silent plea over and over again. Please, not her...please, not her...

"Now what is her name?" Evan asked, immensely enjoying the mind game he was playing. "Amanda...no, that's not it. Agatha--ugh, that's definitely not it. It's...Andra. Andra Corwin. But that would make her your sister, wouldn't it?"

You'd better kill me today, because if you touch one hair on her head, I swear right here and now I'll kill you myself. Cressida stared at Evan, willing him to hear her thoughts.

A shadow seemed to pass over Evan's face as he looked at Cressida. "If looks could kill, I'd be dead by now. I wonder why? From what I've heard, there's no love lost between the two of you. So, I've got a little proposition for you." He placed the palms of his hands on the brick wall on either side of Cressida's head. "I let you go, and your sister takes your place. I've seen her looking at me in the Great Hall from time to time--I'm sure she won't have a problem with it. What do you say?"

Cressida let Evan know exactly what she thought of his depraved idea--she spat in his face. As rage surged through him, Evan's features took on a grotesque appearance, revealing the monster within.

"You bitch!" he hissed at her. Before either of them realized what he was doing, the back of Evan's hand violently connected with the side of Cressida's face. For the second time, pain radiated from the area of impact, temporarily disorienting her. When the shock of the pain subsided, she looked up to see Evan examining his hand in awe.

"I've never hit a girl before," he whispered to himself, flexing his fingers. "That's what it's like..." For a split second, Cressida thought that he was beginning to feel remorse for what he did, but when Evan looked up at her, she saw a look of resolve on his face. Her time was up.

Evan slowly pulled his wand from the pocket of his trousers and pointed it at her jumper. "Diffindo," he muttered and her jumper split open down the middle, revealing the black bra she was wearing underneath it. "It's times like these when I'm glad I had a late birthday. I can do all the magic I want outside of school. Quite handy..."

Cressida closed her eyes because she couldn't stand to see the smirk on his face. She held out her hands and began trying to push him away. There was no way she was going to give up without a fight. The two of them tussled--Evan getting more and more aggressive as he tried to restrain her; Cressida losing more and more steam as the fight continued.

Just as she was about to give up, Cressida heard a feral, savage growl. For an instant, her attacker was forgotten as the new fear of being torn limb from limb by a wild animal took over. Fear quickly turned into relief as she felt Evan being pushed away from her. She opened her eyes, hoping to see him being devoured by the beast, but was astounded to see that it was Sirius who had knocked Evan down. He was now bent over, proceeding to beat seven shades of shit out of him.

"Get up you sick bastard," Sirius said threateningly as he stood over Evan, his breath coming out in short pants. "GET UP!" he yelled as Evan began scuttling backwards in an effort to get away from Sirius. When it became clear that Evan had no intention of following his directive, Sirius reached down, grabbed Evan by the front of his shirt, and pulled him to his feet. Evan tried to pry Sirius's hands off, but to no avail. Sirius threw him against the opposite wall, his forearm nearly crushing Evan's throat as he pinned him in place. With his other hand, he began searching for Evan's wand.

"Cressida, are you all right? Are you hurt?" Sirius asked, never taking his eyes off of Evan as he continued his search.

Still unable to speak, Cressida started hitting her hands against the wall to get Sirius's attention. Only when he finally had Evan's wand in his possession did Sirius look over his shoulder to see why Cressida hadn't answered him. His eyes widened as he got his first good look at her. Cressida knew how horrible she must look--a red, swollen face, disheveled hair, magically ripped jumper. As she closed her sweater with one hand, she gestured toward her mouth with the other. Then she pointed to her legs and shook her head, indicating that she was unable to move, as well.

Understanding Cressida's sign language, Sirius raised his own wand and said, "Finite Incantatem."

"Thank you," Cressida whispered hoarsely as she slid down the side of the wall, into a crouching position. "I'm fine."

Sirius turned his attention back to the Slytherin. "She doesn't look fine to me, Rosier," he said in a deceptively calm voice. "Looks like you roughed her up a bit before..." Sirius's voice trailed away in disgust.

Evan was still trying in vain to pry Sirius's arm away from his throat. "She--was--gagging for it," he managed to utter in a strangled voice. When he began gagging, Cressida deduced that Sirius had increased the pressure on Evan's throat.

"I should kill you right now," Sirius said in a whisper so low, Cressida had to strain her ears to hear it. "It'd be easy. Cressida's the only witness, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind--"

"No!" Cressida exclaimed. She jumped to her feet and was behind him in an instant. "He isn't worth it, Sirius," she said, frantically pulling his shoulders. "Let's just go, okay?" Amazingly, Evan began making a garbled noise that sounded like laughter.

Sirius grinned, though there was no mirth in the expression. "What's so funny, Rosier? Does the possibility of your own death make you happy? We've got something common after all. Who knew?"

Evan looked Sirius in the eye and mockingly said, "Don't--worry, Cressida. He hasn't--got the balls--to use--an Unforgivable. Everyone--knows he's the--weakest link--in the--Black--family."

Sirius glared at Evan menacingly. "Who said anything about me using the Killing Curse, Rosier? You think that's the only way to die? People die every day, in lots of different ways. People get sick, accidents happen, animals attack...it's actually rare for someone to die by curse. If you even think about attacking her again, you'll find out all about it."

Evan's eyes darted from Sirius to Cressida and back again. "You're--bluffing, Black," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"You know I'm not, Rosier. The only reason I haven't choked every breath out of your body already is because Cressida doesn't want me to. So, here's how it's going to be. You're going to stay away from her. You're not going to cross her vision for even a second. If you see her coming, you're going to turn around and find somewhere else to be. In fact, just erase her name from your memory. She doesn't exist to you anymore, got it?"

In a last ditch attempt at defiance, Evan didn't say a word. After a few minutes, he began spluttering again. When Cressida realized that Sirius had increased the pressure on Evan's throat again, she resumed her futile attempts to get him to stop. "He's heard you, Sirius," she said, desperately pulling on his arm. "I don't want you to get into trouble over this. SIRIUS, STOP IT!" she yelled when Evan's face started to turn blue.

Cressida's panicked protestations seemed to bring Sirius out of the dark place he'd stumbled into. He finally let Evan go and stepped away from him. Evan dropped to the ground, taking in great gulps of air and rubbing his throat.

He looked up at Sirius and held out his hand. "My wand--if you please," he said, his voice raspy from the trauma of nearly being choked to death.

"I may have been born at night, but I wasn't born last night," Sirius replied contemptuously. "D'you actually think I'm going to give you your wand back? Maybe you'll get it back after I've turned it in to the Headmaster and we've told him about your idea of a fun Hogsmeade outing." Sirius crouched in order to look Evan in the face. "Leave now," he said. The dangerous tone in his voice carried the promise of violence even more extreme than what Evan had already endured.

Both of them stood slowly, watching the other for any sudden movements. Evan took a few steps back and grabbed his cloak, which was still neatly folded on top of the crate he'd put it on earlier. He gingerly touched the tip of his finger to his split lip, seething at the appearance of blood. "You'd better watch your back, Black. No way is this finished," he said as he continued to back away.

"I'm shaking in fear," Sirius replied in a bland voice. "Really, I am."

Evan didn't bother to retort. He just continued to walk backwards, keeping his eyes on Sirius the entire time. When he'd finally made it to the entrance of the alley, he turned and ran, presumably back to Hogwarts.

Cressida turned her attention back to Sirius, who seemed to have deflated somewhat. "I knew you'd come for me," she said softly to his back.

He didn't turn around to face her. "Didn't come soon enough, did I?" he asked, barely able to keep the self-flagellation out of his voice. "If I'd got here sooner, he never would have--"

"Don't you do that," Cressida interrupted. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this. You were here when I needed you to be, so you were right on time."

Sirius didn't say a word. Instead, he proceeded to take his sweater off, leaving himself with only a plain white T-shirt as a barrier against the chilly October air. Without turning around, he held the sweater behind his back, silently offering it to Cressida to wear. She, in turn, said nothing as she accepted it. She slid her own torn jumper off her shoulders, pulled Sirius's sweater over her head, and pulled her arms through the sleeves, reveling in its warmth. This chivalrous gesture, more than anything else he'd done, made Cressida feel safe.

"You can turn around, now," she said.

Sirius honored her request, but did not look at her. Seeing her own sweater abandoned on the ground, he said, "I can mend your jumper for you."

"Don't bother. I'm never wearing it again, so..." Her voice trailed away as she realized that he hadn't looked at her since he'd lifted Evan's spells. "Sirius, why won't you look at me? Do I really look that awful?"

Sirius took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. "No. I don't trust myself. Seeing your face swollen like that.... I may run after him and finish what I started."

Cressida walked up to him and gently lifted his head. When Sirius finally looked at her, she could see the rage in his eyes--murderous rage born from the vile acts committed against her. The look in his eyes coupled with his previous actions were proof of the lengths Sirius Black would go to protect her. At that moment, Cressida's heart swelled with emotion for the boy--no, the man standing before her.

"I trust you, Sirius," she said, cupping the side of his face with her palm. "Take me home, please."

His expression softened as he lightly placed his hand on Cressida's bruised wrist. "All right," he said soberly.

The two of them walked to the wall of crates, behind which were both of their cloaks and the small shopping bag she'd dropped when Evan Stunned her. Sirius picked up Cressida's cloak and silently secured it around her shoulders. He pulled the hood up over her head and positioned it to hide her swollen face.

"So we don't get asked a lot of questions between here and Hogwarts," he said, as if she'd asked him why he'd pulled the hood up. Cressida simply nodded in agreement. After he fastened his own cloak, he handed Cressida the shopping bag. "I thought you might want this," he said, smiling slightly.

Again, Cressida only nodded as she accepted the package. She was very tired, and as far as she was concerned, she had said everything she needed to say. Sirius took her by the hand and guided her out of the alley.

Author's Notes: Okay, y'all. I've read all of your reviews. Some were posted, some e-mailed, and some even given face-to-face (you know who you are). I appreciate each and every one of them. Several of you told me how much you enjoyed the last chapter, but you were itching to read more about Lily and Snape. Your wish is my command. Stay tuned... By the way, I got the chapter title from the Hall and Oates song of the same name. What can I say? I'm a child of the 80s!