Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters/plot that you recognize. The only things I own are the characters I have created, and the changes in plot that occur due to their addition to the Harry Potter world.

This is my first fan fiction so please be nice. Any advice and reviews are greatly appreciated. Enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

"Grandfather," the girl whispered; the word barely reaching her own ears.

"Surprised?" the man in the elegant chair responded. "Ah, I suppose you thought we had forgotten all about you, hmm? Not to worry, my dear, we have a very special task for you." At the second mention of "we" the girl quickly glanced around. She was in the standard description of a dungeon. This was exactly how she had imagined them when she used to read medieval novels.

However, the room was not what caused her breath to hitch and her heart to skip a beat. There were dozens of hooded figures in the room. I'm going to die, she thought frantically. Even the door she had entered through was blocked by figures.

As if by reading her mind, the man in the throne said, "Don't be silly. I would never kill you, not when you could be such a valuable asset alive. No, alive you can help us to win but dead, you're useless."

She just stood there motionless. His words washed over her and she was unable to think clearly. All her reflexes and instincts blended together and blurred in her brain.

"I know what you are," her grandfather said calmly, as if bored by the topic at hand. "You are the Queen, aren't you?… Aren't you?… ANSWER ME!" He flung himself out of the chair and grabbed the girl's throat.

Although she was staring death in the face, she had one last ploy.

"The voices, they tell me things. They tell me what to do. And sometimes, if you watch really, really closely at night, you can see the faces," she said with a sardonic smile.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" The man's face took on a confused, almost fearful look, as his hand released her throat.

This only encouraged her to continue. "The faces are those of the dead, those whose souls are damned to walk this earth forever. You can still see the blood. And if their hatred is strong enough, you can even smell the stench of their rotting corpses. That's the only way you can know when they are coming. It's the only warning, the only chance for preparation." She finished her rant, panting, with the malicious smile still upon her lips.

Her grandfather motioned for the hooded figure closest jto the door to come forward. She assumed it was the man who had brought her to this godforsaken place.

"What is wrong with her?" the girl's grandfather interrogated.

"I don't know, sir. Perhaps she has finally cracked under the pressure of being the Queen." The man chose his words carefully, but spoke with confidence oozing from his voice. This would either be a man to respect and admire or to fear above all others. One thing was certain, she didn't want to find out the hard way just how powerful he really was.

"Impossible, I've had people watching her for almost a year now. If there were something wrong with her I'd know."

"Well, I must admit, insanity would certainly be fitting with her looks."

"HOW DARE YOU! I look great! I - err, oh shit…" 'Uh-oh, busted.'

"Well, well, well, it appears that our guest of honor has been faking. Tsk, tsk, not a smart move. Good job, Severus."

"Thank you, sir." The man stared down at her with a blank expression for a second longer, then resumed his original place. It felt as though he were scrutinizing her for an eternity with his piercing gaze. She shuddered from fear, but something else as well, something inexplicable.

"Now you give me the troublesome task of coming up with a fitting punishment for you. What do you think you deserve?" He turned to her.

"Erm…" Anything she said would probably just make him angrier. She knew from things her mother had mentioned that her grandfather had an exceptionally short fuse.

"Answer me, girl!" he shouted.

"I don't know, sir." She hoped, prayed even, to any deity that would listen, that he would go slightly easier if she addressed him with respect.

"Well, fortunately for you, I do, or perhaps not so fortunate." he glared at her with a torturous smirk. "You will become a slave to one of my followers. The only question is, which one? Well? Who thinks they can handle the little twerp?" A short, pudgy man with a beak-like nose, buck teeth, and beady eyes stepped forward.

"I would be honored to take her. Oh yes, she would be a lovely addition to my home." He reached a greedy hand toward her. She backed away quickly, knowing he would probably follow.

"Not so fast, Wormtail." It was the man who had spoken earlier. "First of all, you are residing in MY home so how do you know I would even allow her to enter it? Second of all, as has been clearly stated bye the Dark Lord, she is the Queen. As such, she could overpower you in an instant and destroy you. If anyone is going to own her, it needs to be someone with powers that actually compare to her own."

"And who exactly do you suggest, Severus?" The "s" still hissed through the room after the Dark Lord had finished speaking.

"Myself, perhaps?"

The older man seemed to consider this for a moment until one of the other men spoke up. "My lord, surely you cannot be considering Snape for this. Granted, he is a semi-powerful wizard, but to control the Queen, you need someone with extraordinary powers. And I for one would be honored to take on the role."

"I'd go with Snape," the girl piped up. Although she was the topic at hand, everyone seemed to forget she was in the room.

"There you have it," said Snape. "She chose me."

"What are you talking about? The Dark Lord said punishment. It wouldn't do to allow her to choose who owns her."

"Oh no? Do you recall what happened to the last slave you had? She was dead within a week. As previously mentioned, she needs to stay alive in order to assist us, that is, so long as you are still a loyal follower?"

"How dare you?! I have always remained a loyal follower, even when you were in you comfy position as Potions Master at Hogwarts, even whe-" he was cut off by Snape.

"You mean the same time you were in your comfy position at the Ministry?"

"At least-"

"ENOUGH!" the old man exclaimed. "If you two can't act like grown men, I will have you escorted for the room like the children you insist on acting like. Now, the fact of the matter remains that I need someone to keep an eye on her ad make sure she stays out of trouble. And someone who can act appropriately in public," he directed a pointed glare the short, fat man.

"The rest of the time you can treat her however you wish. Treat her like a slave if you like, it matters not. Severus, congratulations, you've just received the honor of this task. Oh don't give me that look, Lucius. We need her alive now, don't we?"

"And what makes you think I'll go along with all this?" the girl questioned.

"The answer is simple. If you don't, you die. Any questions?"

"No," she gulped. Although she didn't necessarily fear death and knew it was an inevitable part of life, she didn't particularly want to die.

"Good then, meeting dismissed. Oh, and Severus."

"Yes?"

"Make sure she's safe from Wormtail."

"Yes, my lord." He then turned to the girl. "Well, are you coming? Or do you plan to stay in this dungeon all night?" he didn't wait for a response, but turned and stalked out the door. She quickly followed. Despite the fact that she knew nothing about the man named Severus Snape, that didn't mean that she wouldn't choose him over a most unpleasant death.

He never turned back to see if she was following or not, but knew she was. After all, who would want to remain in a sound proof room with the Dark Lord any longer than absolutely necessary?

When they reached the doors that led to the cold night, they stepped outside and he wrapped his arms around her waist. As second later, she felt a tug behind her navel and heard a pop. When the tugging stopped, and the world quit spinning, she would have fallen to her knees if her weren't holding her.

"I think I'm goon be sick," she whimpered, instinctively bringing her hand to her mouth.

"You'll get used to it. Can you stand?" She simply nodded. "Good. Come." Again he walked away leaving her to follow.