The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

Thanks for all the kind reviews. I'm still getting used to uploading in the HTML format so if my chapters don't upload perfectly let me know. Thanks to Marti for her quick message about the last chapter.


Salvation

Chapter 3

Toby thought he might like his new school. He had already made a new friend on the train ride to Hogwarts. Teddy Lupin, who it seemed, was somehow related to Mrs. Potter and Uncle Drake. Teddy had showed Toby how he could change his appearance at will and Toby had admired how the older boy could make his hair different colours without the stinky dyes his own Mum used. The boys had parted company when the students got off the train. A man that looked like he was at least a half a giant had met the first years. His name was Hagrid, and he had treated all the firsties nicely, even though some had been crying when they disembarked the Express.

Toby thought that all the people were really nice here, not like the schools at home. When he had been sorted into Slytherin, his housemates had clapped and cheered wildly. His new friend, Teddy, had cheered as loudly as his House had, when he was sorted. He noticed that everyone else at Teddy's table had given the older boy strange looks, but Teddy had proclaimed, loudly enough for the whole Hall to hear, that his grandma had been a Slytherin so he was all right with his new friend being one too. The other children at the Gryffindor table had looked uncomfortable. The Slytherins at his table were not as bad about the House prejudice thing. Only a few strange looks had been cast his way.

Now, he sat with a plate of his absolute favourite foods in front of him. It was as if his mum had phoned ahead and made sure he would be welcome. The Headmaster, Professor Lepidus, gave a funny speech about what was allowed and not allowed. Toby was a little disappointed that they would not be able to go into the Forbidden Forest. Uncle Drake had told him about his adventures there. He supposed things had changed since his uncle had been a student.

Teddy smiled and waved at him as soon as the feast concluded. Toby walked the distance between the tables. “So, I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Tobe.” Teddy's warm eyes flicked to a blond first year girl who had been placed in Gryffindor, then back at his new friend. “I'll meet you after classes in the library.”

Toby followed the group of first years out of the Great Hall. A young woman who had told them she was a Slytherin prefect led them. Toby really did not know what to expect, but when he entered the room, the ornate furnishings and old tapestries nearly took his breath away. Uncle Drake had taken him to see an exhibit of ancient Saxon tapestries when he was a kid, and he had thought they were neat, how they had told a story and stuff. The ones on the walls in the Common Room far surpassed the grimy old Saxon ones any day. While Toby was looking around, a new figure slipped into the room. He was around the same age as Uncle Drake, his skin was a pretty chocolate-colour and his eyes were light brown. When he made his way to the centre of the room, Toby saw he walked with a pronounced limp. Under the soft glow of the central chandelier, Toby noticed, where his right sleeve fell away, there was no hand.

The man peered around the room waiting for the students to become quiet. His gaze was sharp and hooded like a hawk. Each student his eyes fell upon looked down. Finally, his voice sounded. It was soft and raspy, like he had just woken up. The students had to strain forward to hear him. “I am Professor Zabini. I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am also your head of House. While most students, and many adults, will tell you I am a Death Eater, I want to show you that I am not.”

The Professor flipped the loose robe back on his left arm. His skin was clear and unmarred. Toby had seen Uncle Drake's Dark Mark, and he knew it could not be removed, even if it had faded. Toby was convinced, even if none of the other first years seemed to be. The man continued.

“This House is under a cloud of suspicion and prejudice. I will brook no argument when it comes to the proper behaviour of a Slytherin. We will excel, we will prove to the world that Slytherin House is more than a bastion of Dark Arts and outmoded blood prejudice. A list of forbidden words and acts will be provided for each of you. All students will sign off and return a copy to my office by the end of the week. This will serve as a magically binding contract. If you are found in violation, by word or deed, you will be punished. The punishment will be up to and including expulsion, depending on the severity of the act.”

Several students shuffled their feet nervously. Some of the students seemed less than keen about the prospect of the list. The soft-spoken wizard continued, “I will post a roster in the common room of older students who have volunteered to mentor any student who needs help in any subject. Please avail yourself of this service. I will also organise each of you into study groups, so that you might attain the excellence that is our House's standard. At the end of each week, we will have a House meeting to air concerns and grievances. You will, at no time, be allowed to show dissension about your Housemates outside this House.”

Upon saying this, the older man's baleful eye swept the assembled students. Toby seemed to be the only one who could meet the man's eyes. Professor Zabini's crystalline gaze rested on Toby a moment. The boy could not read the expression on the older man's face. Toby looked away, discomfited. The Professor continued, “Due to incidents during last year's term, the Headmaster has deemed that the curfew for all Slytherins will be nine o’clock. Violators will be expelled. There will be no second chance.”

Toby heard a boy mutter, “No curfew for those damned Gryffindors, of course.”

Professor Zabini's gaze focused on the offender. “The Gryffindors have their own restrictions, Mr. Marshall. Rest assured that House of rule breakers is under the same scrutiny as we are. Now, if there are no further comments, you are dismissed. Mr. Cowell, Miss Alston and Mr. Alston, please stay behind.”

&*&*&

Draco was expecting to be able to have time to clear his mind before he had to face Liz and Scorpius. His encounter with Patil had shaken him. He knew, no matter what the temptation, he could not meet her next week as he had said he would. He would talk to Ian to clear his mind when he met him for their weekly dinner at the Laughing Dog, a small, out of the way pub close to the church.

When Draco opened the door to the flat, he heard Liz and Scorpius singing a song from one of the educational shows she insisted the boy watch. Draco closed the door quietly and sneaked down the hall to the bathroom. He needed to wash the sex smell off himself that lingered along with the strong and abrasive perfume that Patil seemed to prefer. His keys dropped from his hand with a loud clashing jingle. Liz came to the door of the small kitchen. A look of shrewd appraisal crossed her features before she said, “Well, I hope your errands were pleasant.”

Draco felt himself flush. “They were just errands. You know things I had to do.”

“Next time tell your thing not to mark your neck,” Liz scoffed lightly. “Get cleaned up, dinner's almost ready.”

As Draco beat a hasty retreat, Liz's distinctive, throaty laugh followed him down the hall.

Draco joined Liz and his son at the table, his spot covered by a high-necked shirt. Liz darted an amused look at him, but offered no other comment. As the meal progressed, Draco relaxed. They spoke of the unimportant detritus of the day, allowing Scorpius to elaborate on the unfairness of not getting sprinkles on his ice cream. Draco grumbled, “Well, at least you got ice cream, son. If you had acted towards me in that manner, you wouldn't have.”

Scorpius, cranky from the day's activity, pouted, his lip pushed far past the point of looking cute. Draco's irritation at the boy mounted. “Scorpius Francis, that will be enough.”

The boy howled spilling the peas he had barely masticated out of his mouth onto the pristine tablecloth. Draco threw down his fork in disgust. The utensil clattered loudly against the stoneware plate, leaving a chip on the pottery in its wake. Using the quietly menacing voice that Draco had heard many times as a child from his father, he uttered, “Go to your room. Now.”

Scorpius flung himself out of the chair and stomped down the hallway to his room. The door slammed after him. In the silence that followed, Liz looked quizzically at her friend. “Jesus, Drake, I thought getting a leg over was supposed to calm a bloke down.”

“Oh, leave off, Liz. I've got a bloody headache.” He cradled his head in his hands, acknowledging the ever-present dull pain in his chest centred around his heart. “When does it wear off, Liz? When do I stop feeling the ache for her?”

Liz's sigh was all the answer she gave as she began clearing the dishes.

“Thanks for cooking tonight.” After a moment he stood. “I'd better go speak with Scorpius.”

&*&*&

The three children stood in front of the hardened wizard, waiting in expectant dread as he took their measure for a moment. Finally, after fear-weighted moments, he rasped, “Mr. Cowell. What can you tell me of your family?”

“Sir?” Toby swallowed audibly. “I don't know what you mean.”

The man flexed the fingers on his hand, as if anticipating a struggle. “Tell me about your family. Do you have parents, siblings?”

“Oh, yes sir. I have a mum and a grandma,” Toby replied. He wondered what his family had to do with being in school.

“So you have no other family, boy?” The wizard seemed impatient. “Your father, where is he?”

Toby's eyes narrowed. He had this happen to him when he was in regular school. The teacher had called his mum names and Toby had sent her flying to the ceiling. He would not put up with it here anymore than he would at the Muggle school. “I think you know, sir.”

Professor Zabini paused, rubbing a calloused finger across his top lip. His own eyes narrowed. Toby figured he was in for some hell. Finally, the wizard said, “I meant no offence, Mr. Cowell. I am aware that you three went through the Muggle Liaison Office before you came here. There are special circumstances surrounding each of you. So, if you would, do any of you know who your fathers are?”

The other boy shuffled his feet. “Me Mum said he was a rapist, and that she hated him.”

The girl, his twin in looks, nodded her head emphatically at the pronouncement. Toby noticed the Professor wince as the boy answered. “And you, Mr. Cowell?”

“My mum's never talked about him.” Toby felt as if he were missing something vital. “My Uncle Drake said he was a Death Eater, but that made my mum mad, so he never said anything else about him.”

“Your Uncle Drake? He's your mother's brother?” the man asked his expression blank.

Toby had stepped in it this time. Uncle Drake had told Toby not to mention his relationship to the boy while he was at Hogwarts. He had said some people would not understand that Uncle Drake had changed. Toby screwed up his mouth, running his lips back and forth over his teeth. Professor Zabini prompted, “Mr. Cowell, I'm awaiting your answer.”

There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “Uncle Drake is my mum's friend. He runs the Muggle office thingy. Please don't tell anyone though. Uncle Drake will be awfully angry with me for telling about him.”

“I believe we can do that, can’t we Mr. Alston, Miss Alston?” Upon their silent assent, the Professor continued, “I won't tell you not to speak of your fathers, but I think it would be in your best interest, each of you, if you didn't advertise what you know of them. The other children won't be kind to you.”

The older wizard waved them off in dismissal. As Toby turned to leave he heard the older man say, “Mr. Cowell, tell your Uncle that Blaise Zabini wishes him well, the next time you see him. Would you?”

“Yes, sir.” Toby bowed slightly as he had been taught, then stumped off to bed, his head swirling with everything that had happened that day. He thought he heard a dry chuckle as the Professor left the common room.

&*&*&

Liz went home to her empty apartment. She thought she would get a little dog or a cat so she would not feel so lonely. She grimaced at the thought of her life spreading before her, a barren plain. She felt so damned old. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would Fire-call Ginny Potter and see if she could spare a moment to go shopping.

Liz poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down to watch the TV, or at least pretend to look at it. So, Drake had found a girlfriend. Somehow, the thought made her feel lonelier. She could envision him going out on a date, in all his proper speech and attire. He would make the perfect husband because he worked so hard a being bland and accommodating. Liz knew he had a temper, a bad one. He had said a little about his father and mother; they sounded like right monsters, even if they had doted on him. He told her in his jokingly ironic way, that he had inherited his temper and looks from his dad. He called him Lucius though. Liz had asked him what he had inherited from his mother and he had said madness. Liz had laughed, but had known Drake had meant it.

Another glass of wine, and Liz decided she should get to bed. The workday would get here at the same time it always did. She walked down the hall to her room, making an effort not to peer into Toby's bedroom to see if he was there. She knew he wasn't. She hoped he would have a good year, because hers was not shaping up to be the best.


Salvation

Chapter 4

It was the following Tuesday afternoon, and Liz had sorted the Owl Post, scheduled several appointments for non-magical families who were having trouble adjusting to their wizarding children, and had delivered the report for the Ministry. Draco was in his office with the latest family to receive a letter concerning the magical status of their toddler, and Liz seized the opportunity to Floo-call Ginny Potter. It was not the first time that Liz had called since last Thursday; the day after Toby had gone off to Hogwarts. Liz had tried twice since then, with no luck. She cursed the fact that wizards had never invented the magical equivalent of an answering machine.

She took a pinch of the magical powder and sneezed as she threw it in the fireplace. Of course, she had to have an allergy to something she must use every day in her job. She let the green flames die down, and then took another bit, pinching her nose shut. In a very nasal tone, she shouted, “Ginny Potter's residence, please.”

Liz stuck her head in the green flames, feeling as anxious about using this mode of communication this time as she had the first time. Humans were not meant to put their heads anywhere near a raging inferno. “Hello, Mrs. Potter?”

A bushy-headed woman stuck her head in the flames from the other end. Liz had only seen her a few times from a distance, and could not remember her name. Liz thought it was Miney or something. The other woman replied, her tone mildly pleasant, “Ginny's busy right now. May I take a message?”

“Yeah... Yes, can you please tell Mrs. Potter that Liz Cowell called from the Muggle Liaison Office?”

The woman's expression underwent a transformation from politely open to hostilely shuttered. “I see. Yes, I'll see she gets the message. ”

The woman ended the connection abruptly. Liz pulled her head out of the Floo. “Bloody fucking cow.”

From behind her, she heard Drake clear his throat. She stood, brushing the chimney soot from her jumper, sucking her cheek between her teeth. Drake was trying not to laugh. The upper-crust parents, with whom he had the appointment stood beside him. The haughty woman had a mingled expression of shock and disdain. Liz struggled to keep from flushing. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy?”

His voice was tremulous with suppressed laughter, as he said, “Could you give the St. John's their paperwork and make their next appointment, please? Afterwards, I'd like to see you in my office.”

The woman, a long nosed bint with perfectly coiffed, peroxide-blonde hair, took the paperwork from Liz's grubby, soot-stained hand. The man was busy looking Liz up and down with more than just polite interest. He looked the type that liked a little kink on the side and would be aroused by Liz's gaffe. The appointment made, Liz escorted them to the door, and then turned to enter Drake's office.

Her boss was sitting with his back to her, shoulders shaking with silent mirth. She said, with little heat, “Okay, Drake, they're gone. Laugh it up.”

A snort issued from his corner and he turned to her, with a bleary-eyed smile. “Sorry, kid. That was priceless. Did you see that woman's face? It couldn't have been sourer if she had eaten a lemon. Merlin, she reminded me of my mother.”

A faint woman's voice sounded from the outer office. “Ms. Cowell?”

“Sorry, I've got to get that.” Liz fled from the scene.

&*&*&

Sometimes Draco thought of the war; more specifically, he usually thought of the time the Manor had been turned into a prison. Mr. Ollivander had come first; of course, Draco had not known that at the time. He was enjoying his last year at school, plotting to kill Dumbledore and double-cross Snape. Good times, those. He had participated in the wand maker’s later torture, before Harry Potter had rescued him. Then came the goblin, Sunflower or Gribli, something he never could remember because when he had attempted to speak to it, his father had punished him quite effectively. Draco's body still carried the curse scars, and he never tried speaking to the Goblin again. Luna Lovegood had been last. She was the one that haunted him.

His Uncle Rodolphus had her for two days before she came to the manor. She entered unconscious and bleeding. Lucius had been coldly furious at his brother-in-law. Draco had witnessed the torture session Lucius conducted on the man, after Rodolphus had deposited the girl in the dungeon. It was horrifying, the cool detachment of his father, as he inflicted curse after curse on Aunt Bella's husband. Lucius never uttered a sound and did not even breathe heavily as he conducted Rodolphus' punishment. At the end of the gruelling hour, Lucius turned to Draco and pronounced coolly, “That is what one does to defilers of pureblood womanhood.”

His father had stepped over the still-writhing body of his brother-in-law. “Come Draco, I will need your help to set things right.”

Draco followed, aware of the tension in his father's shoulders and the heaviness of his normally light step. They entered the dungeon where a defeated Ollivander and the Goblin were chained. Luna's body lay beside them. Lucius' hands shook as he pulled vials out of his robes, placing them out in order of use. Draco sat and cradled the girl's head in his lap. Her ashy-blonde hair spread out around her, darkened in spots from blood and other effluvia.

After applying Ennervate with no effect, Lucius snapped a capsule, which contained a vile-smelling gas, and waved it quickly under the girl's nose. She sputtered and struggled to sit. Lucius barked, “Keep her still, Draco.”

They worked in gravid silence, Lucius occasionally supplementing the potions with charms and spells to quicken the healing process. Luna, at first bewildered, finally rested her head in Draco's lap and twined her fingers through his. Her eyes drifted closed. That one act of trust and acceptance shattered Draco. He was still haunted by it. At the end of the healing, Luna thanked them. As Lucius left the room and Draco paused to let the blood flow painfully back into his deadened legs, Luna said, in her dreamy-voiced serenity, “I always liked you Draco. You never made fun of me.”

He paused, guilty. “I honestly never noticed you.”

“I know,” she smiled. “That was nice.”

Now, he sat with his office door open, listening in chagrin to Liz speaking with the woman in the Floo-call. His friend was lonely. She almost admitted it when she said she had thought of changing her look to attract 'the right kind of attention' in her words. Draco had never noticed his friend's need. He resolved to make sure she had plenty of opportunities to meet the right kind of women. He would give Millie Bulstrode a call and see what places she might recommend for Liz. There was an idea; if Millie was not seeing anyone, he might arrange a blind date. He would make that call tonight.

&*&*&

The Slytherin first-years were in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor. Toby was beginning to dread the class, but not because of Professor Zabini. He was really a great teacher.

It was the Gryffindors that made him dread coming. For some reason, they hated all the Slytherins in the class and seemed to have it in for them. Something happened last term that had been bad, but Toby had been unable to get anyone to tell him about it so far. When he asked Teddy, all the older boy would say was that the fault lay with both Houses, and to not worry about it.

Professor Zabini had broken the week into technical and practical days. Wednesdays were days for the technical stuff, the days his raspy voice was spell-enhanced and he would tell of his travels. He had travelled a lot. The rest of the week was for the practical work. Those were the days that Toby both dreaded and anticipated. Each Slytherin was paired with a Gryffindor. Toby's partner was a blond girl named Victoire. Her mother was part Veela and her father was a Weasley. Toby was unsure what that meant, but several Housemates had commented on his good luck at being paired with the girl. She seemed all right to him, but of course, she was friends with Teddy too.

During class today, they had resumed practicing shield spells. Most of the first-years struggled with it, Toby included. Near the end of the class, Victoire had produced a shield spell that deflected even Professor Zabini's thrown Expelliarmus. Victoire, after being roundly praised by the Professor, urged Toby, in an undertone, “See if you can do that spell, Toby. I bet you can. You're almost as good as Teddy.”

Toby looked to the front of the class where his Head of House was instructing a student on the proper pronunciation of the spell. Toby ran his lips over his teeth. “I don't know… What if I do it and I hurt you?”

“Don't be silly, I’ll shield.” Victoire shook her hair from her eyes in that irritating, girly way she had.

Toby shook his wand hand out, and then whispered, “Expelliarmus.”

Victoire attempted to block, but the spell broke through her defences. She ended up on her bum after sliding across the room. Toby caught her wand, barely. He rushed to her to help her up. “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I'm sorry, Victoire, I thought you were ready.”

She was smiling up at him goofily, “That was brilliant. Could you do it again?”

Toby took her outstretched hand and jerked her up, a little too forcefully, before he noticed the silence of the classroom. Victoire was dusting off her bum, her mouth no longer drawn in anything close to a smile. That was when Toby felt the hand of the Professor on his neck. “Mr. Cowell, Miss Weasley, detention. Here... Tonight... Seven o'clock.”

Toby was afraid to look at him, so mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

Professor Zabini dismissed them after giving the reading assignment. Victoire lingered outside the door as Toby gathered his books. The blonde touched him on the arm, another girly gesture he hated. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to get you in trouble.”

Toby grumbled, “You're in trouble too.”

“I know. If my Dad finds out about it, I'll get a Howler.” Victoire's shoulders slumped, and then she smiled again. “That was dead brilliant though. D'you think you could show me how you did it?”

The girl jostled his shoulder with her own, playfully. “I'll show you how I cast the Protego.”

By the end of Care of Magical Creatures, his last class of the day, Toby was thoroughly sick of Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. His Housemates had surreptitiously cheered him when other students were present for getting one over on a Gryffindor. The Gryffindors, for the most part, pushed and bullied him in the hallways and whatever class he was in with them. Teddy and Victoire had tried to put up a united front for him with their Housemates, but were brushed aside. Everyone knew that Toby had bewitched both of them.

Toby tried to study with his group, but kept receiving so much praise that it was impossible to concentrate. Rose Alston, the other semi-Muggle-born in his group finally gave up in disgust, tossing her near-black hair and putting her freckled nose up in the air pugnaciously. She said, loud enough for the whole Common Room to hear, “If some people weren't so concerned about getting attention, the rest of us could study.”

Toby slunk out of the room. It was almost detention time anyway.

He made his way up to the classroom from the dungeons. Victoire and Teddy Lupin greeted him at the door.

“Don't tell me you've got detention too?” Toby asked in surprise.

Teddy smiled half-heartedly, his hair changing to an indeterminate seaweed colour. “No, Gryffindor isn't very receptive to traitors right now. I thought I'd pass some time in the library after I walked Vicky here.”

Toby kicked at an uneven flagstone with the scuffed toe of his trainers. “Yeah, but it's better than being praised for hurting a friend. I really am sorry if I... “

Victoire’s laugh cut him off. “Don't be silly. I still want to know how you did that. You said you'd show me.”

“Yeah, mate me too. I mean that's a second year spell,” Teddy praised. “I can't believe you learned it after seeing it one time... Unless your uncle showed you?”

“Nah. He would not work magic around my mum for the longest time. He was afraid she'd die like... um. Forget I said that.”

His friend looked at him quizzically, but only shrugged. Victoire finally said, “It's time we faced the One-Armed-Magician. Bye, Teddy, I’ll see you later.”

Professor Zabini opened the door at Victoire's timid knock. “Miss Weasley, Mr. Cowell, I’m glad you're on time. We have much to cover this evening.”

The two children slumped. Victoire stepped forward. “I'm sorry sir, for interrupting your class, but it wasn't Toby's fau... “

“Silence, Weasley. If you're going to be learning advanced spell-work, we need to get started.” The Professor closed the door behind them.

&*&*&

Scorpius was laying in his bed listening to one of his favourite Beedle the Bard stories. His eyes were drifting shut when his hand clutched reflexively. “Daddy, where is my Mummy?”

Draco shushed him, unwilling to get into the involved conversation when they were both so tired. “Son, Mummy's in heaven. Now close your eyes.”

“Will I see her?” Scorpius struggled against the droop of his lids.

Draco closed the book softly. “Maybe she'll visit you in your dreams.”

“Why don't you marry Auntie Lizzie? She's a good Mummy for Toby.” Scorpius struggled to sit. Draco placed a repressive hand on his son's shoulder.

“Son, Auntie Liz doesn't want to marry Daddy. Now sleep. You have a long day tomorrow. You start day school, remember?”

His son snuggled into his hand. Draco ran his calloused thumb over the boy's soft-golden cheek, remembering the smoothness of Tish's honeyed skin. He closed his eyes but only saw a pair of sparking brown eyes under a thatch of impossibly coloured hair. In his mind, he saw pixieish features draw close, felt the brush of maroon-rouged lips on his mouth, felt the black-polished fingers of his friend draw him towards her. He felt the heaviness of arousal in his scrotum as she kissed him. He awoke with a start. Scorpius stirred but only turned on his belly in the frog pose he had slept in since he was a baby.

Draco stood, placing the book on the shelf beside his son's bed, dampening the light to a soft glow. He had been having increasingly disturbing visions of his friend since Toby had left for Hogwarts. He felt himself watching her involuntarily for signs of interest, but knew she would never reciprocate. She had told him as much on their first meeting in the soup kitchen five years ago.

“Oh, I ain't married. I like girls.” Her face was lit with the righteousness of a person long wronged and misunderstood. He had promised himself that he would help her along, today, and so he made his way to the Floo. Millie had given him her location. He would call her this evening.

&*&*&

Liz hugged the bottle of vodka to her chest. Tonight was the anniversary of her first day of captivity. Twelve years ago, she had been raped, tortured and got with child. Twelve years ago, she had watched, as her first and only boyfriend was tortured to death while her virginity was stolen. It was a good night to drink.

Drake never knew she did this. It was her own private mourning of things that never should have been. Sure, she was glad she had her son. She would have killed herself long ago if he had not been there for her... After... Glimpses of The Week still haunted her dreams. Toby looked like his sire. She knew that. She also knew that Drake had known him, had called him uncle. She did not blame her friend for not being more forthcoming about her rapist's identity. If she were in his position, she would not want to share that information either. She downed another swig of the vile stuff. Medicine for a broken life.

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, blinding her. She never knew, at this point in her yearly celebration, if it was the vodka or the death of her childhood that she cried about, only that she did.

As in years before, images of the two who saved her from the devil, one light and angelic, one dark and sardonic, flashed in her mind. The dark man and the one she now knew as Drake's father, pulling her from the pit of hell, casting spells to make the devil forget their role in her salvation. The dizzying flight by nightmare-winged horse. The Dark Man's gentle hands as fifteen-year-old Liz emerged from her catatonia in the safe house. All forgotten except on this night. She groaned as the alcohol began trying to return.

She stood unsteadily, the bottle drifting out of her numbed fingers. Tomorrow she would worry about that mess. Tonight was for what was and what could have been. The tears finally fell as she stumbled to her bed. One year's worth of oblivion, paid in full.

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