Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Tears of Love Unrequited

Blood of Loyal Friends, Faith Undying

Lover's Last Breath

Flesh of the Mother

Pride of the Father

Power of the Self

“Come back to Me.”

A silver knife sinks in to her soft flesh, scared by the mark of the Dark Lord. Blood flows; tainted and dark. Staining the ground as it falls, turning once lush grass black with disease.

Strong arms form a circle of protection for the Corrupter turned Healer as he weaves his ancient magics, pouring liquid pearl over the gash. She convulses as the snake's poison is drawn from the wound, bubbling like tar, smelling of feted blood.

Loyal friends call her name over and over again, making their voices a beacon in her darkness as the snake slowly uncoils from around her heart. Like ice, the walls around her soul crack, and fail, falling with such thunder, that they awaken the frozen princess.

The fire reignites. Crystalline eyes shine with an intensity that had been lost ever since her conversion. Those eyes settled upon her saviors, as her arm was bandaged in Unicorn hair.

Where was she? What had happened after her first dinner with her birth parents? She felt almost like Sara from the Labyrinth after she had eaten the Peach. But instead of falling into her fondest dream, she had fallen into a nightmare.

She could smell Voldemort on her, could taste him in her mouth. She could still feel his cold hands on her skin, teasing dangerous places on her body that used to trigger something akin to a bucket of cold water to pour over her heart.

Used to, that was the operative word, wasn't it? She could not feel those chains any more. Cold chains that only seemed to melt away when Draco had touched her. But now it was gone. And that could mean only one thing; Draco was dead.

The little hot-headed, impatient, prick who felt like he had so little time to woo her that he had tried to subdue her mentally into a walking, talking, breeding pile of goo.

She couldn't take it any longer. In one fluid motion, she stripped out of her shirt and pants, completely disgusted by the smell he had left on them. She was left wearing a rather transparent black unmentionables with her boots.

Snape, was that his name? Yes, Snape seemed to understand what she was doing, and he removed his robes, letting her slither into their voluminous folds. He was not much wider than she was. But he was quite a bit taller, and it served to make the scene somewhat comical as she was consumed in black fabric.

She looked up to thank him, and all of a sudden she was struck with another bit of Labyrinth imagery. He was showing her a small half smile that didn't quite reach his dark eyes, wearing a lightly frilled white button up shirt that seemed to swallow him up, while his pants were cut a little closer. She bit back the urge to laugh and thanked him anyway.

"Thanks for showing up when you did." Hera said, buttoning the first few tiny buttons of the robe before her fingers got tired. She wondered if they would ever understand the perfection of their timing. A few minutes too early, and she would have been stuck in her room. A few too late; well, she would rather not think about what would have happened.

"No problem, Hera. But did you really have to hang off of him like that?" Ron asked, still queasy from seeing Voldemort again. "A few more minutes and it would have been bloody obscene."

Hera grimaced, she had hoped that that last little bit was a strange dream, but oh well. "I kinda didn't have a choice Glow Bug. I wasn't in the driver's seat."

Harry cleared his throat, getting their attention all at once. He nearly ducked as though someone had thrown something at him. "We can't stay." He said shortly, all too aware of the calculating stare from Snape just over Hera's shoulder.

Hera rolled her eyes at the two, nudging Snape with the point of her forefinger. "Ease up, sweetie." She said, not thinking, before using the southern term of endearment, about the way the others would take it.

"See, Hermione? I told you she was evil."

XXX

Quiddich try outs were not going well at all. For the last six years, Gryffindor House had not had to think about recruiting a new Seeker. But since Harry was gone, that was just what they were doing.

Seamus had completely fallen off of his broom before he had spotted the Snitch, and Ginny didn't have the control to make the hair-pin turns and dives that were a required skill.

That left Neville Longbottom, and a first year by the name of Vivian Van Deshan, both of which were nervous as each prospective Seeker was either knocked out or knocked off their broom when they didn't keep their eyes on the bludgers.

"Van Deshan!" The Captain called out, startling the raven hared girl out of her worries. She stepped onto her broom, which was an older model Nimbus, but not so outdated that it was obsolete. She flew out into the middle of the mock match, her violet eyes darting this way and that as the bludger flew by. Sometimes with little more than a hairs breath to spare between it and her head.

"Remember, keep your eyes out for the Snitch, let the beaters deal with the bludgers." Vivian nodded, her hands wringing the neck of her broom as the Captain of the team released the Snitch. Vivian waited like they were told to until the Snitch came into play.

Immediately she took off after it, dodging bludgers that slipped past the Beaters as she chased after the Snitch. She tried hard to keep from panicking as she fought for balance on the broom. Suddenly, a Beater flew by her, and her concentration chose that moment to slip.

She fell into a spin as she missed the Snitch by a bare finger length, and ended up face first in the sand. Vivian blew sand and grit out of her nose as she shook her hair. She knew she was sacked, since they were only being given one practice run since the first match was next week. The team had waited until now to try to find a Seeker, hoping that Harry would make it back.

This would be the first time that the Golden Boy of Hogwarts would not be able to pull a miracle out of thin air, and Gryffindor was not looking forward to a season without him. The Captain sighed, glancing down at the list. One more left, and that was it. If Neville blew it, Gryffindor would have to forfeit the season and settle for last place in the House awards.

"Longbottom!" He called out, waiting for the tall gangly looking teen to step out on the pitch, mounting his broom as he got to the center. He went over the rules with the 7th year as he had done with the 1st, making sure everyone knew their places. He released the snitch again, hoping that Neville's flying skills had improved since he had first touched a broom. Otherwise 'Fiasco' would be a complement.

As soon as the Snitch came into play, Neville was off at break neck speed, chasing after it with single minded determination. One of the beaters had nearly smacked him thinking he was a bludger at that speed.

Neville certainly didn't have the finesse that one gains after six years of eating, breathing, and sleeping Quiddich. But he had guts, and that would do for now. Guts would do, the Katie thought as Neville caught the Snitch, pulling hard to the left to avoid smacking into the bleachers that were sparsely populated by curious spectators. They cheered, thankful that they would not have to bow out of the matches and suffer in last place.

XXX

To cross the Dark Lord was asking for your own death. But to be the only one left after all the others who had crossed him were out of his sight was to ask the same thing, but at his leisure.

What ever favor Bellatrix Le Strange thought she had with Voldemort was fast fading in the face of his new plaything's disappearance. Though with Draco's death, Bellatrix had felt that Voldemort had sealed the Malfoy family's coffin. Of course, she had the nerve to say so out loud.

Not even Lucius and Narcissa were saying anything above a whisper, though it was probably because they knew where their places were. And Draco had sealed his own fate the moment he started using that blasted potion without Voldemort's permission.

Though it was probably very likely that he would have tolerated the small transgression if he himself had not taken a carnal interest in Hera. It was plain as the sun with the way he had practically fondled her out in the open for all to see.

What had upset Bellatrix, was the fact that Voldemort did this knowing that Draco would be able to see and hear everything, and respond in his usual fashion. Thus giving Voldemort the perfect excuse to get rid of a particularly annoying thorn in his side.

Bellatrix had time to contemplate this as she hung petrified in Voldemort's personal chambers. What she would have done to get in here any other way, but she would die here. And at the hand of Hera when Voldemort tore her from Harry's cold, dead fingers. Though that would also leave what to do about Snape up in the air as well.

Bellatrix laughed to herself. Morbid humor had been her forte for as long as she served Voldemort. Why should now be any different? Though what puzzled everyone, was how the Golden Trio had found Hera so quickly.

Voldemort had nearly done a cavity search on Hera and had turned up nothing that could remotely be used by either Magical or Muggle means to track her. And yet they had known exactly where to look. The Owls were not used at all, nor was the floo.

Perhaps if Bellatrix figured this out, Voldemort would spare her and she would be back at his side where she belonged. Not at the tip of that Muggle raised, slut's wand he had taken such an avid interest in.

XXX

Former professor and students eyed each other as two dragon chicks would while competing for food. Waiting for one small mistake on the other's part that would allow one to throw the other from the nest. The only one who seemed either oblivious to this, or didn't care, was Hera.

Though she was not as dumb as she played. She felt that it would not be wise to get in the middle of something that had been brewing for this long. Harry, Hermione and Ron were tolerating Snape's presence because of his hand in getting rid of the Dark Mark. But if he should make one single mistake, then they were ready to tie Snape into so many knots it would take Hagrid to pull him out.

Hera cleared her throat, planting her fists on her hips. "Where are we gonna go? It's not like we can just flag down a cab." Harry blew the hair out of his face, his vision momentarily clouded by his breath. He knew that too, but they had left their brooms at the mansion and if they summoned them then Voldemort would know exactly where they were. Then they would really be in trouble. On the other hand, it was freezing, or very close to it, and the wind was slowly starting to pick up again as the sun went down. If they could get somewhere safe and regroup they could possibly try to contact the Aurors that were undoubtedly tailing them.

"Might I suggest something?" Snape asked, not flinching once under the acid stares of the 7th years. Without waiting for permission; "Durmstraing Institute is not far from here, perhaps a few hundred kilometers to the west. I have no reason to deceive since my actions will only buy me a painful death at the Dark Lord's hands." He said, holding out his hands, palms up as though to show them that he meant no ill intent. Though his eyes took on a guarded look that only Hera seemed to be able to see since his face was always guarded.

"The Ministry would arrest you on the spot, right? No matter what?" Snape chuckled at Hera, though a smile never really made it onto his face.

"Do not worry yourself, dear girl. And from now on...please refrain from using any terms of endearment. At least in front of present company. I would not wish to confuse them any more than they already are."

Hera laughed, amused by the offended looks from the other three students. "Deal. Now lets get moving, my butt's about to freeze off."

Snape only rolled his eyes, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "You were so much better behaved when you had the Dark Mark."