A Christmas Wish

Eight years ago I returned to my father’s home, or what I thought might be home. I was nine and wanting nothing more than a father who wouldn’t hurt me anymore. How many years had I watched as families walked the streets outside my mother’s house and wished I were part of that family? If I could have known then what the next eight years would entail, I would have run away from home, from school, from everything and everyone that knew me. Eight years ago, I thought life was hard. It was, I knew what hate felt like, and I knew what pain felt like. I knew what the cold and hunger felt like deep down in the very essence of your soul. Now I know what everything else felt like.

My father brought me home from the hospital after saving my life from my abusive stepfather. He brought me to the house he had grown up in and gave me what I had always wanted, someone that was there to reassure me that I wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. The fear never went away, but he was my father and he took care of me better than my own mother had. He made sure I had food, shelter, clothes; everything I ever wanted was given to me, everything but one thing. All I really wanted was my father to forget about the pain caused to me; forget about the woman who had claimed to love me. I wanted my father to love me, like any father would love his child.

I grew distant; I grew away from everything and everyone. The barriers I had once put up had again become a second skin, and felt secure around me. He had done the very thing I wanted him not to. He pushed me away until I had nothing more than the very pain I had longed to be rid of. That’s when my nightmares started again. I could see the abuse happening again, I could see the fists, the knives, the curses, everything would replay in my head. Then things would change, I wouldn’t just see what had happened, but what could happen. He would come to my room when I was screaming and crying. He would hold me in his arms and I would let him. I hated him as much as I hate my stepfather and mother. He had let this happen to me. He never came for me. He let me suffer.

I promised myself I would never feel vulnerable again. I would never let someone make me feel weak again. I would fight to preserve whatever was left within me, though it wasn’t much. Everything that I was, everything that I could have been, was beaten out of me. I was nothing more than an empty shell. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. The pain was nothing more than a numb sensation. The tears that fell from my eyes were for show; there was no real emotion behind my eyes, no real feelings left in my body. I couldn’t feel anything. I never knew what it was to be loved, or to love. What a horrible way to live some would say. That’s all I knew, that’s all I was raised to know.

For all I know, he could have tried to give me love like a father would. It never showed; his embrace was to get me to stop crying so he could return to his warm bed. His soothing words meant nothing when there was nothing behind them. He wasn’t my father, but more of a caregiver that truly didn’t want to be stuck raising a child. I was his and he never even looked at me as if I was. I was a burden he never wanted to have. I was something to be forgotten.

Would it have been better if they forgot about me all together? Would I have been better off if they left me in the hospital to rot away and join the other children like me? Would I become another statistic of suicidal females who couldn’t cope with the problems of life? I’m not so sure anymore?

I sit at home, in front of a Christmas tree, the lights all a glow, and the only thing I can think of is what if I left? What if I ran away? Would I be missed? Would he come searching for me? I wouldn’t know. All I’ve ever wanted was someone to love me, someone who would promise to be there for me forever. Wasn’t your family supposed to do that? Were they not supposed to be there no matter what? No matter what happened, no matter the trouble you were in? Why was it I was not gifted enough to gain a family that cared? The presents under the tree meant nothing if they were not from the heart?

The heat coming from the fireplace behind me couldn’t warm me of the chill that had sunk in around my soul. What would it take for me to feel happy? To feel loved? No amount of presents would cure me of my sudden dull mood. It was Christmas and all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and die. I didn’t feel like I would even be missed. It was just father and I around this dusty old house. How he managed to get the few weeks off was beyond me, but he managed. Perhaps the Headmaster was more than willing to give him the time off. Or maybe, just maybe the Headmaster knew more than he let on.

I felt the blanket drop around my shoulders, the cocoa placed in my hands, and heard the footsteps in the hall. Ignoring it all, I continued to stare off at the lights, until the snow falling from the darkening sky caught my attention. Standing from my spot, I allowed the blanket to fall around my feet. I walked over to the window and sat down on the large windowsill of the Bay Window. A small smile crept across my face as I watched the pleasant scene in front of me. I loved the fresh snow, and the feeling it once left. I wish I could feel it again; it would be better than nothing at all.

A small noise caught my attention and I was pulled from my thoughts. I turned to find my father and several others standing there. My friends from school were standing there, my teachers, everyone that had decided not to return home for Christmas were all standing in our den. I couldn’t believe it; my father had done something nice, or was it really my father who arranged this?

“What’s going on?” I demanded looking between Marcus Flint and Terence Higgs. I couldn’t believe it; my two closest friends were standing with my father, smiles adorned to their faces. It wasn’t often that Flint smiled, but when he did it meant one of three things. He had just cursed a Gryffindor, won a Quidditch Match, or had managed some how to get some girl to pay attention to him. Flint had finished school and still he had come to the house for Christmas with us.

“It was a unanimous vote Miss Snape. Christmas this year is being held here at the Snape Residence.” Professor McGonagall stated quietly. “Severus wanted to do something different this year, instead of keeping you at the school like always, he thought to bring you home. And just about everyone else in the process.”

“Yeah right. Father hasn’t a caring bone in his body.” I replied sharply and walked out of the room. I couldn’t stand being there any more. My father had not just done something like that. My father of all people would not have arranged for the students who remained at Hogwarts to join us at our place! Throwing on my winter boots and robes, I went outside and sat down on the porch.

I heard the door open and I felt someone join me, but I didn’t bother to look up from the snow on the ground. I didn’t truly care who it was that was beside me. I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want it to be him.

“What hou sou so angry this time?” my father questioned me in his tal cal cold manner. Didn’t he know this was the reason I didn’t want to be there? I didn’t want to be near him?

“You that’s what!” I replied sharply, looking up from the snow. I stood up and stepped off the porch and into ankle deep snow. “You buy me everything I want. You give me whatever I ask, whenever I ask. I never go without something I don’t want. But the one thing I want, I can’t seem to have!”

“That is?” He questioned as if he didn’t know the truth behind the question.

“A father. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I had the Stepfather who wanted me dead, I had the person who took care of me when I woke from a nightmare, and I had the Professor who was supposed to be my father. But I never had a father. I never knew he cared about me, I never knew if I was what he expected. I knew I was a student in his eyes. I knew I was something he didn’t like because I acted out.” This time the tears were for real. This time the emotion came. I hated him for making me feel weak again. I hated him for everything he had ever done to me, and everything he didn’t do to help me. “I hate you! I hate you because you weren’t there for me when I needed you. You weren’t there when I woke up crying in the middle of the night. You weren’t there when I was bleeding to death from knife wounds. You weren’t there until it was almost too late.” I wanted to pound my fists into him like my stepfather had done to me; instead I fell to the ground and sobbed.

His arms wrapped around me, as he soothed my worries. This was how it always was. I would cry he would try and comfort me. He was bad at it too. He was trying though, and that was something. Seventeen years of pain came cascading back knocking the breath out of me. I jumped from his arms and ran. I ran to get away from the house, to get away from the people inside, to get away from him. I ran because I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to know I wasn’t alone.

When I tripped and fell into the snow, I found a hand waiting to help me up. When I ran again, fou found myself lost, he was standing there waiting to direct me home. What was so different this year from any other year? Why was he being so kind? This was completely not like him, Severus Snape was never nice to anyone, and everyone knew it too. As much as I wanted away from him, he was there. He wasn’t about to leave me alone. I didn’t want to be in his presence, and I didn’t want to talk to him, but it looked like I wasn’t going to have a choice.

“Go away!” I shouted at him as I found myself face to face with the man I hatehated for so long. “I hate you!”

“Then hate me.” Snape hissed in reply, “Won’t change the fact that I’m your father”

“Then admit it in front of the students! I’m not allowed to be your daughter at Hogwarts. I’m allowed to be your daughter here!” I screamed back at him. It wasn’t fair; the life I lead wasn’t fair to me.

He stood before me, looking down a. Hi. His eyes looked less cold, they looked almost human. There was something there I had never seen before, there was pain. There was never a time when I had seen him like this, I had never known him to hurt with anything. This was way beyond my comprehension and I’m not sure how much I can take of it.

“You may look like your mother, but you definitely have more Snape in you than you think.”

“SHUT UP! I AM NOT!” I screamed at him as I turned away from him. I didn’t want to see the look in his eyes; I didn’t want to see if I had hurt him. I hated him, but I knew that I shouldn’t be the one to cause him pain. That was not for me, that was for my mother.

“Yes you are. You deny the truth when it’s right in front of your face. You have an inconceivable amount of hostility towards the past that you refuse to let go of. And you are definitely more of a Snape-stubborn than you are a Cavalar-stubborn. Trust me, I know.” He replied as if trying to explain to me my own makings.

I didn’t know what to do; he was obviously lying to me. I needed time, time to adjust to what he was saying. It wasn’t like it was something I didn’t already know. I knew I was a lot like him, as much as I didn’t like it, I knew we had more personality traits in common. I had always known I was never like mother, and that left me with only him. My confusion was beginning to annoy me; confusion, in my mind, was just another form of making someone feel weak. That was something I definitely didn’t want to feel, and he would pay for it.

Leaving him, I began walking in no direction at all. Oddly enough it was taking me towards the road. I had walked it when I was younger living with him. Fear washed over me, I felt alone, and I knew I wasn’t but I felt it. As I rounded the corner to the next street, his black winter robe caught my attention. I said nothing for a little while, at least until we came to the lake, and he had walked beside me all the way. What on Earth was he thinking? Didn’t he understand that I didn’t want to be near him? That I wanted, no, I needed to be away from him?

“Why are you following me? Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be near you.” I wanted to scream, to yell and to let the world know how much I was hurting. Instead my voice came out in a soft whisper, as if I couldn’t get my voice louder than that.

“No matter how far you run, I’ll be at your side.” He replied calmly. It was scary to see such a calm expression in his eyes, in his face, in his very core.
My voice caught in my throat, my mind was racing, and this was not something I was looking for. Well it was, but why do I feel suddenly so sick to my stomach? Tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at the frozen lake. I could make out my reflection clearly in the frozen water. I looked nothing like my father, he was right in that. I had her face; I must have been a haunting nightmare that would never go away for him. The tears slid down my cheeks and onto the lake. His reflection was right next to mine; we had the same eyes. That is what was similar between us. The same cold look, the hollow empty feeling that was always evident in the way we spoke, the way we did everything. It was the same. He didn’t care that I looked like my mother, he cared that I was more like him. That even after all the pain caused to me, I was still more like him than her.

Looking up from the water, I looked into his face. There was something different about him, somet tha that I’d never known before. He had been there every night I cried after a nightmare. He had been there to ease my pain, to make sure that nothing bad had come my way. I wasn’t allowed to be his daughter at school, but it would have been different if he weren’t a Professor of Hogwarts. He was the father I wanted. The one who would give the world to me, and still have a surprise waiting for me. Never ending love, it wouldn’t have mattered what I had done; he was still there. He knew how I felt, he knew I was angry at the past I couldn’t let go of, and he was still standing there next to me.

I was scared, terribly scared. Not of the man before me, no, I was scared of letting go. I was terrified of the future. I had never let anyone help me, not even him. I was always dependent on myself, never anyone else. I didn’t need anyone, but that was the one thing I wanted. I needed my father, but I couldn’t have him if I couldn’t let go of my past. All the pain, all to toil, the torment, the tears, the fears, they all had to be let go to move on. How does one go about letting go of a past that has haunted their every footstep? How do they leto lto live again after such pain and hardship had been done? There is a constant reminder of what had been done etched in my skin. The scars are one thing; the pain is another. Numbing pain that torments me every waking moment, and every sleeping one too. When I sleep, I see it again. I feel it again. I know its nothing more than a dream, but it feels so real.

Backing away, I let myself feel the cold. How I managed it, I don’t know, but I wanted it. I wanted to feel cold, to feel the cold melt away with the warmth of the fire I knew was waiting for us when we returned home. If the cold melted away, maybe it would take away the pain I had felt for so very long. Oddly, I knew he would be there when I woke that night crying. I think I needed that the most. A good cry; from what many have said, crying is a step to healing. Though I know I want to heal, I’m not sure if I can release the pain I felt.

His hands clasped down on my shoulders, and I could feel him standing behind me. Holding me in his arms, like a father would. He was the father ntednted; I just wouldn’t let myself see it. I didn’t want myself to see it. My hands floated up from my sides and grasped his hands in my own.

“Father?” I questioned, as I felt his muscles tense. He wasn’t expecting that, I’m sure he wasn’t. “How do you look at me and not see her?” His hands loosened around me, and soon fell to his side. I had struck a nerve, and I didn’t know how I had managed it. I just wanted to know. I wanted to know how he managed to live knowing I was the product of a love lost.

“I’ve already answered that.” He replied coolly. “You look like her, but you aren’t anything like her. Your mother is someone I’ll never forget, but she is not someone I care about anymore. I’ll never forgive her for what she did to you.”

“Daddy,” I said in a childlike voice, “you need to. We need to.” It was weird talking to him like that. I had always referred to him as Father or Professor, never Daddy. Though it really didn’t matter. Maybe it was a way of claiming my childhood I never had with him. The one I never had period. I was forced to grow up quickly, and was never allowed to know what fun was.

Maybe I shocked him as much as I had myself; the look on his face was different. It wasn’t something I had seen before. He looked almost childlike himself, like he was looking on me for the first time. I smiled, a real human smile for once in my life. He didn’t need to say anything; because I knew he wasn’t the all lovey-dovey father, and that wasn’t something I would ever ask of him. I knew he cared, I could see it in his eyes. It was enough to know he would be there for me, always. That nothing would ever change, unless it was me.

We began walking back towards the house, I don’t know why I stopped but I did. There was fear in my eyes, and it wasn’t for any reason of my past. It was of my future. I knew that my future would come and that he would be there for me, but what if he wasn’t? From the rumours I had heard, He had returned, and with returning my father was called back to him. He was a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, and I knew the dangers he was put in constantly. I knew the danger I was in, and I didn’t care. I cared that he was going off into danger and that if he angered the Dark Lord, I’d not have a father at all. That if the Dark Lord didn’t take his anger out on father, it was me that would be next. My mother was a Death Eater, she would use me against my father, and I knew it. I couldn’t let her hurt him by using me; I wouldn’t let her hurt him.

“Dad?” he turned to look at me with anticipation in his eyes. I guess he was waiting for something like this, waiting for me to wonder what would come of all this dangerous work he had to do. “What will happen if V—the Dark Lord hurts you? Or worse kills you?”

“The Headmaster and I have discussed what will come of you if anything should happen to me.” He replied sharply, the topic must not be one he likes talking about. I guess it was tough to think about what could happen to your daughter if something happened to you when you’ve only had her in your possession for a total of eight years.

“And what about her? What will she do to see you hurt? I’m not a child anymore dad. I know she hates you, I know she hates me. She’ll see you hurt, she’ll see you break before she’s through.” I cried. I knew it for a fact. I had heard her words echoing in my head. I could remember the words she had spoke to my stepfather before I was with my father. I knew what she was capable of, and knew she would stop at nothin see see Severus Snape whither in pain and agony without the use of an Unforgivable Curse.

“Let me worry about your mother.” Was all he replied as he began to walk back towards the house, he was obviously not picking up on the fact that I knew more than I was letting on. That I knew she had a plan for him, and that it would involve a great amount of pain.

“Listen Snape,” I started catching his attention. I knew it would and I knew I’d hear about it soon enough. “I spent nine years in that house. Nine damn agonizing years, and you seem to think you know how to deal with that wench of a woman! Think again! You knew her when she was a Gryffindor, you knew her when she wasn’t the bitch that she is now! You have no idea whae’s e’s capable of.”

“I’ve known your mother a lot longer than you think. Twenty odd years, and you seem to think I know nothing about what she is capable of.” He hissed in reply. Twenty years would mean nothing to what she had become after her marriage to Anthony. There was no word for what she was, unless it was close enough to the word Siren. Honestly that’s what she was like. Drawing in her victims with her voice, her promises of a better life, and they would never see the light of day again.

“Really,” I replied coldly. “You think you know her. Have you been in the house when she’s pulled some innocent young man off the street? Brought him into the house where her children slept. Fulfilled their every wish, and took their life. I think you don’t know the woman. No, you’ve never seen her while she’s ‘in action’ as Anthony once told me. She’s a vile creature who uses her bod sed seduce unsuspecting men to their doom. You have no idea what she’s capable of anymore.” I couldn’t believe I was standing there telling him this. I had told no one, not even Marcus or Terence knew. If Aleena found out that I was telling her secret, if Anthony found out, I was dead. They’d hunt me down, and kill me in the slowest, most painful way known to the human race. I wasn’t about to liast ast my eighteenth birthday. As long as he didn’t ask exactly what I saw I was fine.

“Exactly what have you seen Lenna.” The cold calmness in his voice would have terrified any one, anyone that wasn’t related to him. Of course he had to ask the one question I wasn’t willing to answer. The one question that sent chills of terror down my spine, basking me in a cold sweat. Though it was cold outside, I seemed not to notice it, as I wrapped my arms around my waist and looked down at the soft fluffy snow around my feet.

His fingers lifted my head to look into his eyes. Christ the anger there was fuelling a wild fire of rage. If I didn’t answer this next question right, someone was going to end up dead. I could see it, I’d seen it before, only once, and it terrified me even more this time than it had eight years ago. I gasped at the resemblance between their eyes, my own father looked exactly like Anthony had when he beat the crap out of me. Backing away I stumbled and fell to the ground. When his hand reached out to help me up, I scooted away further. I knew what happened if you took an offered hand to a man that was standing on the killing edge. I wasn’t about to let it happen again. I wasn’t about to let anyone hurt me again.

“Lenna, what happened?” he questioned, the rage evident in his every word, but there was something else there. Was that a hint of concern I heard in his voice? No, no man that abo about to hurt another could possibly hold any concern in his raging mind. “I just want to know how much you\'ve seen. How much I have to undo of what she did?\"

“No.” I whispered, “Death comes on swift wings to those who tell secrets that are not theirs to tell.” I looked up, saw the look in his eyes soften, and knew I was safe. He took a seat next to me, far enough away to give me space, and know he wasn’t going to hurt me. The look though in his eyes, though it had softened was still there. He was ready to kill someone, and it would depend on how I answered his question.

“There are times when answering a question is hard as hell, but it is better to share it with someone that can help than keeping it inside where it eats away at you.” He said looking at me like I was some sort of problem child. “If you let me know what happened, I’ll deal with it.”

“What are you talking about? Dad, you asked me what Aleena did. To tell you means another beating. Neither one of them ever touched me in any sexual way. I promise. If you want to deal with their little sex fetishes then do so, but don’t you go thinking I’m some poor rape victim when I’m not.” I replied quietly. Though I was speaking the truth, I was sure he wasn’t hearing it. Blind rage does that, you don’t hear a word anyone is saying to you. It’s rather scary though, to feel that way. Blinding white light, it’s kind of painful. You can’t hear, see, or even breath. Everything seems to be just about death and destruction if you’ve managed to get into a real state of anger. Hell I was sure that Anthony…god I really don’t want to remember what went on in that house.

“Lenna, if you’ve witnessed your mother in a sexual act, even if it results in murder, that is still a form of sexual harassment, and something no child should witness. Now I want you to tell me what you’ve seen and I’ll make sure neither Anthony nor Aleena come near you. They need to pay for what they’ve done, and I can’t help you if you won’t let me know.” I never knew voicvoice could be so quiet. Normally it was a deadly quiet, but this time, there was only a small edge to it. An edge that was meant to show how serious he was about what had happened those many years ago.

“I don’t know if I can.” I replied honestly. How many times was I going to cry tonight? It was completely dark out, save the moonlight that was casting its silver glow down on us. “I really don’t want to remember. It wasn’t like she worked alone. Anthony helped. I know he did.”

“We can go inside and talk about it if you would rather a more private place to discuss this. Or we can remain right where we are. But either way, I need to know what your anything. The warmth of the fire in the den cascaded over us, knocking the wind out of mother has done.”
I took in a deep breath and nodded my head. This was going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Not only did I not know where to begin, I didn’t know what the future would hold for a girl who’d broken a promise that was forced upon her. I was terrified. I knew I was safe with my father, hell, I knew the Headmaster of Hogwarts wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me. He cared about my father as he would his own son, but could I allow them to take care of me, when I was breaking my own word? Did that not make me worse than my mother for all the things she did? I’m not sure what the answers would be.

We walked into the house, neither of us saying me. Wbeenbeen outside for so long, I had nearly forgotten what the smell and feel of warmth really was. I could hear the chatter of those who were staying for the Christmas break die down when we entered, but it quickly started up again as soon as we walked into the room. Dumbledore looked at the two of us, with concern in his eyes, it was as if the twinkad fad faded and worry had quickly taken its place. The Professors said nothing as we began to walk towards the flight of stairs that would lead to the basement. Dad had a private lounge down there, and he made sure that the house elf made sure to keep it toasty warm while we were there.

Making it as far as the stair doors, I turned to look back at Terence and Marcus who were watching us intently. They knew well that I hated my father, but they would understand that things change. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I watched Pansy walk from her place in front of the fire, to Terence’s lap. I told my father that I would just be a moment that I didn’t want Terence and Marcus to worry any long and walked over tom. Im. I stopped dead in my tracks as I looked at the three of them. Pansy’s eyes a glow, with what I could only imagine was too much pumpkin juice or eggnog perhaps. It was the same smell that caught my attention, the same perfume that Aleena wore when she was out ‘working’. The same stench that would mix with the sweaty musk of whichever male she would bring home.

Turning quickly, I left the room. I hadn’t talked to Terence or Marcus but I didn’t care much either. The smell was making me nauseous, and I really didn’t want to remember what Aleena did when she came home on some male’s arm. I ran down the stairs meeting my father in his study. Throwing myself in his arms, I cried. I didn’t want to remember. I had done everything in my power to forget and I could still remember. One whiff of that perfume and I was hit with a million horrible brutal memories that would forever torment my mind.

Between entering the house and being all right, to seeing Pansy with Terence, I had lost all comprehension of my emotions. My head was spinning. Every emotion was swirling together as one, and all I could do was cry. I wanted to get off the emotional roller coaster but it seemed to want to continue its race around the metal tracks taking me with it. I don’t know when I sat down, but when I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in one of the big comfy chairs dad had. I knew I had been sick, I could smell it. It with the lingering smell of Aleena’s perfume was making me feel like I would vomit again. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the same damn scene, and I didn’t want to. I’d need a dreamless sleep potion this night, if I were to ever sleep again.
Covering my mouth quickly, I searched the office for the bowl or wastebasket so that I could throw up whatever was left in my stomach. The bowl appeared at my mouth, as I retched. I took it from his hands, with my shaking ones, how I hated puking. Though this time my hair didn’t fall into my face. Dad was standing behind me, holding my hair with one hand and rubbing my back with the other. How he pulled it off I don’t know, but as I threw up the contents of my stomach, the little that was left in there, the memories came too. With an odd feeling, not only from the bile of feeling your insides being torn and gutted apart. But also feeling like my mind was stripped of layered years of dieses as well.

I remembered all too clearly when it happened. I was nine. I had been in an argument with Matthew (my younger brother), and had been sent to my room without dinner. It was because of that that I was in the hallway to begin with, it was because I was heading to the kitchen that I witnessed my mother with some unknown man walking into a room that by all rights was never there before. I could smell the scent of liquor, but we never kept any alcohol in the house. The soft giggles had caught my attention, I knew I shouldn’t look in on what wasnspinspiring, but I did. I couldn’t be certain, but as I moved through the hallway leading to the door I knew if I was caught I’d be dead.

Pressing myself up against the wall nearest my own bedroom, I held my breath waiting to be caught by the next person to pass by. I was terrified with the situation I had placed myself in. Turning back was still an option, I could return to my room, and forget all about the mysterious room. Shaking my head, I continued on down the hall, making sure to keep a look out for any movement at all. I stopped just before the door and pressed my ear against the wall, no sound. None at all caught my ears. Nothing. The whole house was quiet. Thinking a moment, I remember mother say that she was taking the kids (save me) to her friend’s house that night. That was great, I was alone in the house with people who hated me. I was dead!

Peeking around the corner I caught the scent of the alcohol again, but it was mixed with something else. Sweat, with the slightest aroma of…blood. I had learned early what blood smelt and tasted like. I traced the path that I assume my mother took with my eyes. Clothes were cast away with no care or worry of where they landed. It was then I knew I shouldn’t have been prying, that I should have turned away long ago. My eyes were drawn towards the bed, God did I wish I wasn’t so damn curious now. The ropes caught my attention first, then the bare skin. Alright, so now would have been a better time to leave, but I was glued to the spot, whether it be fear of being heard,the the fact that I had never seen that look in my mother’s eyes.

She moved slowly, as if time itself had suddenly stopped. Her hand caressed his chest, working her way down to his thighs. The man tried to move, to get a better look at what she was doing, but the bonds held him in place. Her fingers traced circles around his inner thigh close to his testicles. Each movement drew her hand closer to his enlarged shaft, with each movement his breath deepened. With catlike reflexes, she was at his waist, bathing his stomach in small kisses. Her tongue traced similar circles around his stomach, slowly moving south. Nipping at the base of his manhood, she smiled as he gasped, as she tenderly ran her fingers one by one over his swollen head. Moving his hips, he searched for her, for any part of her that would allow physical contact. Pushing him back down towards the bed, she moved again.

I definitely didn’t want to remain there any longer. We had learned about sex in Phys. Ed, but I had no idt lot looked like that. Forcing my body to move, I took a step back, and felt myself hit something. I gasped deeply knowing I was in trouble. Slowly moving my head up, I looked up at Anthony. The same glimmer was in his eyes that was evident in my mother’s. He pressed himself against me, moving me closer to the room. It was then I had felt the bulge in his pants. He was aroused with watching my mother torture that poor man. He forced me into an awaiting chair, and it was then I knew there was an illusion charm around the bed. We could see them, but they couldn’t see or hear us.

“Naughty little girls should not be watching.” Anthony purred in my ear. “But this naughty little girl will get punished for her bad behaviour.” Saying I was scared would be one thing, terrified would be a better word to fit my current state. Anthony was never one to say something and not act, but punishment to me was a physical beating, not the way he was touching me.
Blinking, I tried hard to concentrate on what was going on with my mother more than what was happening to me. It was one thing to know she would have sex with someone while she was married to Anthony, but another when sexual acts were done to me, or any other child of nine.

Mother had this man, this one I had never known before, pleading with her; for what, I don’t think I wanted to know. Pleading with her, would be like pleading with Anthony, neither would stop. They both found some sick joy in what they were doing. My mother began showering this man’s penis with kisses. She seemed pleased with the effects she was having on the young man pinned to the bed, but he did not look so overly thrilled. It might have been just my imagination but as much as he seemed to be enjoying what my mother was doing to him, he continued to struggle against the bonds, wincing every now and then when the ropes dug deep into his skin. I wanted to scream; scream at her for hurting that guy, scream at Anthony for hurting me, scream at my father for not being there to stop it, but there was no one that would hear my screams. They would fade away and become an echo of my mind, only to haunt me every time I closed my eyes from there on in.
She didn’t seem to take notice in the man’s discomfort, instead she seemed to relish in it. Continuing her onslaught of kisses, she moved again. I closed my eyes quickly, turning my head away from her. I felt hands on the side of my face and a hiss in my ear. \"No, little girl. Keep watching.\" The breath was hot on my neck. I had to watch, I just couldn\'t stop no matter how hard I didn\'t want to watch. I opened my eyes, I saw my mother viper like coiled and saw her take a bite out of the mans leg. I jerked back in horror the wall behind me firmly in place. I willed my mind away from what was behind me. The man in the bed was screaming in agony, my mother sat up and licked her lips laughing at his obvious pain.

“NOOO!!” I screamed, my throat feeling raw. How long I had been screaming I’m not too sure, but I knew I had been. I fought against Anthony, I wasn’t going to watch this, I wasn’t going to watch my mother torture the poor man tied to her bed, while her husband tortured me. I could hear his laughter behind me. \"Oh yes. Scream for me.\" His voice was dark and sinister and held an edge to it. One so finely tuned that it could split the air and causes all of the oxygen to leave the place. It split my soul then and there as my mind left my body with the horror of what was happening the only safe place for me to look was at my mother\'s bed.

I continued to watch in horror at what my mother did to that man. No matter what was happening, I felt outside of myself. Even the sounds in the room felt unearthly. The screams were enough to send even the dead fleeing into the beyond. My mother took her time, but when she had finished the only thing I thought would be bliss was that the man was no longer in pain, he found his release from the hell he was in. But would I ever find mine.
The room came slowly back into play. I could see my father\'s breathing. It was fast and furious. Trembling, I moved to sit away from him. It wasn’t anything he had done, it wasn’t that look in his eyes that one only saw when he was to the point of wanting to destroy everything in the room. No, it was for the sheer fact that I had just had my worst memory torn from the deep recesses of my brain and displayed to my father. If he understood anything now, I hope it was the reason for all my resentment, and all my pent up hate towards him. He had done everything in his power to right the wrongs my stepfather and mother had done to me, and still I didn’t allow forgiveness into my heart. Now, he knew the truth of why I couldn’t, and I knew, that should they ever make an appearance again, there would be a fight over which one of us got to kill them.

In a calm terrifying voice he spoke, “Never in my entire life, have I seen such a display of inhumanity. For as long as I had been a Death Eater, I have never known the Dark Lord to condone harm on any one of his minions’ children. He would not have allowed this to happen.” He was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, as if the very thoughts of what had been done to me were driving him to the brink of insanity. Like he would turn back into the man he was before he became a teacher.

“Dad,” I choked out. I looked at has has he stopped suddenly and turned to face me. I was afraid now, only because of my resemblance to my mother. A wicked little smile twisted on my face, as I tried to move, but was unable to. “They’ll pay for what they did to me. You can count on it, but I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I know you say you’ve got things settled with Professor Dumbledore and all, but please, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything where neither Dumbledore or the Dark Lord can get you out of it.”

Though I looked like I was in a sinister mood, equal to that of my father’s, I wasn’t. I was scared. Scare of what could happen, scare of the second I closed my eyes to sleep, scared of ever being in a room with any other man.
I needed sleep, I felt exhausted. Dad must have noticed or knew the effects of the charm he used, because he stood in front of me, the deadly look still in his eyes, and a bottle of dreamless sleep potion in his hands. Handing it to me, he helped me stand and we began walking towards the stairs. The house was unnaturally quiet, seeing as there were so many people there, but then again it wasn’t unlike that of Hogwarts at night. When I reached my room, and Dad helped me into bed, I curled up with the potion in my hand, and watched him leave. I knew Stewart, my friend ghoul was always watching over me while I slept and that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me. I took the potion, and slipped off into a dreamless slumber.