Tomorrow

Disclaimer.
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

When Caitlin woke she knew it was afternoon as the sun had moved to the other side of the house. She wished there were some kind of time piece around, for her own wrist watch had disappeared during her capture. Whether by design or accident, she didn’t know and had not mentioned it. She had the unfortunate need to use the – Merlin, how she hated the term – convenience. There was little option as there was no plumbing indoors.

Taking advantage of her captor’s instructions, she lunched on bread and cheese with canned pears for a sweet. She set aside her dishes, lacking the means to wash them, and decided to explore her limited domain.

It truly was just a small cottage of two rooms. When she tried to enter the second room, where her captor disappeared to while making potions, she’d been violently denied admittance. She looked within and saw what appeared to be a standard potions lab. To her annoyance, there was also a sink – ruddy bastard had indoor plumbing after all. She continued her exploration and, much to her relief, found a cupboard storing books. She browsed quickly and found some basic magic texts she’d been forbidden to read even though they had been used as standard reference books at Hogwarts. She settled down to read that which she’d been denied during the years when she would have been a student, had her father had lived. Perhaps there was some advantage to this captivity after all.

Oxoxoxoxoxo

Harry stared into his teacup, still mulling over in his mind the hints that had appeared in the letters he, Ron and Hermione had read the previous evening. Sleep had eluded him the night before, as idea’s flitted about in his thoughts like the paper airplane memos at the Ministry. There was a pattern there somewhere, he felt it.

“Harry, dear, would you like a bit more tea? Some more toast?” offered Molly.

Harry looked up quickly at her voice. He’d quite forgotten she was there. “Oh, no thanks, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine.” He stood up and took his cup to the sink. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I’ve got a bit of a headache. I think I’ll go lie down.”

Molly placed her hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. “Well, you do look a bit pale, dear. Would you like a headache potion?”

Harry shook his head as he walked to the stairs. “No thanks, Mrs Weasley, a lie down should do the trick.” He turned and escaped to his room to think.

Molly wearily sat down at the table. She took a deep breath and idly wiped nonexistent crumbs from the tablecloth. Her eyes were drawn to the chair at the opposite end of the table, pulling a memory to the forefront of her mind. The tears she so carefully kept hidden from the others, escaped from her closed eyelids.

“Oh, Arthur, why did you have to go? I miss you so much, my love. It’s so hard to go on without you. I try, you know, I really do, but sometimes...” She heaved a shuddering sigh. “Percy has moved in and he’s been a rock, Arthur. I know you saw him when we went against You Know Who. He was so angry with himself at not speaking to us – to you – for so long. I’d never seen him cry since he was just a little boy. And Fleur, well the poor girl went back to France. I can’t blame her, what with a baby on the way and no father alive to support them.” She stood and approached the empty chair. “I’m always cold now, Arthur, even when I’m next to the fire. You were my warm blanket, my summer sun.” She rubbed her hands over the chair back imagining her beloved Arthur sitting there. “I miss you, love. I hope you still know I love you.”

Molly heard the footfalls on the stairs warning her of others coming to the kitchen. She hastily wiped her eyes and cast a quick charm to hide the tell tale evidence of her grief.
Hermione and Ginny came in together.

“Good morning, girls, ready for a spot of breakfast?” Molly’s voice was filled with her usual cheer as she turned back to the cooker. She would not let them know how she grieved. It was her job to be the consoler, not the one who needed their help. She would move on... somehow.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Caitlin had spent another three nights on the floor beside the fire. She’d read in the dim firelight for as long as she could, permission for a candle being denied by her captor. Eventually, she’d dozed off only to awaken each morning, chilled to the bone and sore.

Deciding to be ahead of the game today, Caitlin filled the kettle with water from the ewer and set it aside ready to boil. She sliced bread and laid the table while she waited for the man sleeping in the bed to awake. In the mean time, she took up her book and brought a chair to the window to have light enough to read. She didn’t notice the eyes following her every move.

Snape watched his captive as she moved about the room. She was to be taken to the lair of He Who Must Not Be Named tonight. He’d decided not to forewarn her. The immediacy of her anxiety would be all the better for his gambit.

He watched as she began to fidget while reading – coughing, sniffing and clearing her throat. He finally thought she’d been patient enough, and yawned to announce he’d awakened. She instantly stood, waiting for him to rise and don his outer robe to make the morning trip to the outhouse. It was a strange form of domesticity, but then the entire situation was bizarre, if one stopped to analyze it, thought Snape.

They passed their day in the normal routine of her cooking and reading the books available while he cleared the dishes and brewed in privacy. As the evening approached, Caitlin waited to be instructed to cook dinner. She’d seen some apples that were promising to spoil shortly and had thought to make a cobbler. As she searched the larder for ingredients, her elbow was firmly grasped. She started and turned to look into the face of a Death Eater.

“It is time,” said Snape with no further explanation.

Caitlin felt ice pass through her veins as he pulled her to the door and through. As they passed the wards about the house, he pulled her close ready to Apparate.

“Why?’ she asked, knowing it was a useless question. “Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t answer, simply turned and took them to his master’s hideaway. It was raining when they arrived. He moved quickly to get inside. Caitlin shivered in the damp cold, knowing full well the temperature and weather were the least of the cause. In the house, the air smelled of rising damp and candle wax. The atmosphere was one of decay and pestilence. She was sure she could hear moaning coming from somewhere.

“She doesn’t look any the worse for wear, Snape. Are you getting soft in your old age?” Yaxley sniggered at his own joke.

“Stand aside, I was summoned,” commanded Snape.

“I want dibs when she’s taken away from you,” called Yaxley to his back.

They stopped in front of a closed door. Snape turned to her and grasped her chin, turning her face towards him.

“Keep your silence unless ordered to speak. Agree with everything I say.” His fingers tightened on her jaw. “Do you understand?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Caitlin nodded then gasped as he tore the front of her robes and pulled her hair from its untidy knot. He opened the door and roughly, pulled her after him. With a shove, she was pushed to the floor, landing heavily on her knees. There was musty smell in the air here, she noticed. She heard a slithering to one side of the room. Casting her glance sideways, she saw a large snake looking in her direction, flicking its tongue to taste the scents in the air.

“Finally, we meet, Miss Prince. I do hope my servant has been hospitable.” Voldemort smiled at his own humour. His followers in the room laughed dutifully.

Caitlin saw a pair of booted feet and swirling robes in front of her. She didn’t dare to look up.

“Get up,” commanded Voldemort’s voice from above.

Caitlin tried to rise on shaky knees only to stumble. She felt someone grab her robes from the back and pull her up. As she looked up, she saw the face of He Who Must Not Be Named for the first time. The feral features and fetid breath caused her stomach to roil.

“Severus has asked for a dispensation for you, did you know?” he asked.

Caitlin shook her head.

“Why would you want to have her exempted from my list of hostages, Severus?” asked Voldemort. “I don’t see that she has any particular charm, aside from the fact that she is a woman.”

“My Lord, perhaps if you were to recall her name, Prince, you might understand,” said Snape, calmly.

“Prince, Prince.” Voldemort tapped his nonexistent lips with his fingers as he thought. “I attended Hogwarts with a Prince. Yes, I remember now. Not nearly attractive enough to be part of my circle, but she did well in Defence against the Dark Arts. Almost as good as I was.” He spun and turned back to Snape. “Of course, Eileen Prince, your mother, was she not, Snape?”

“Yes, My Lord, I am honoured that you remember her.” Snape bowed in deferential thanks.

“I remember too, that she had taught you some of her skills when you were a boy. They were useful when you started at Hogwarts, were they not?”

“Indeed, My Lord,” he replied.

“What does this have to do with this woman? What is it you are asking for, Severus?”

This was the crux of the matter. “My Lord, she is one of my two remaining family members. You have given dispensation to others whose family do not follow your cause.” At this comment, he looked directly at Bellatrix Lestrange. “They have been allowed to live as long as they do not interfere.”

Voldemort nodded. “Yes, I am merciful.”

“Then, My Lord,” Snape continued, “I ask merely that my only cousin be allowed to live even though her grandfather has refused to pay her ransom. Neither of them is a threat to you, My Lord. She was not one of those whom you had ordered to be taken.”

Voldemort reached out and touched Caitlin’s face as he gazed into her eyes. He trailed his fingers down her chin to her throat, coming to rest at her bosom. Caitlin felt such revulsion, she thought she would vomit. He turned away from her and strode to a chair at the end of the room. He sat for several minutes before speaking.

“Very well, Severus, you may have her life, but she cannot be allowed to return to her home. She is fodder for the Aurors and those other fools in the order. She will remain with you. Do you understand? Otherwise, you can do as you want with her. You may go.”

Snape bowed. “Thank you, My Lord, you are indeed, most generous and merciful.” He grabbed Caitlin’s arm and pushed her to the door, turned and bowed once more before exiting.

Caitlin was numb. She felt him pulling her along the hallway and leaving the house behind. She felt him hold her to Apparate away. Only when she felt the fresh, cool, dry air of the hillside where the cottage sat did she finally release her emotions. Her knees gave way beneath her as she collapsed. She began to weep as she’d not done since the day she was taken.

Snape watched as she fell to the ground crying. It was obvious she was in shock. She hadn’t even noticed when Voldemort had done Legilimency on her, trying to see what had happened while she was in captivity. He bent and pulled her to her feet before lifting and carrying her to the cottage. He entered and placed her on the bed before going to his laboratory. He returned with a phial of Dreamless Sleep potion, which he administered. As she calmed, he pulled off her boots and covered her with a quilt.

He went to sit at the table and contemplate what had happened this evening. It had not quite turned out as he had hoped, but at least she was to live. Why did she have to stay with him? What ploy did his Master have? It was enough for today to pass by painlessly. He rested his head on his arms as they lay on the table, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.