Hello my lovelies!

How is this cold ass night treating you?

I cannot apologize hard enough for the delay, and I don't want to give excuses, but I have had the roughest week since I started going to school in the fall.

Exams have been hitting me left, right and center, and…I wanna die a bit?

Okay, but besides that, I was super fucking ecstatic when I received The Wandmaker's review, and it was so well thought out that I actually felt a little warm and fuzzy.

But, she or her raised legitimate questions that I hope to have solved in this week's chapter.

On another note, silver. blast 96's review about how my story is a "Total Garbo shitfic lol" (and on the Prologue nonetheless) left me questioning my sanity and wondering if I was petty enough to leave the same comment on her Occulta Proditione. Thankfully, I regained my senses after thinking thoroughly about what I was about to do, and decided that a bit of good-natured ranting in my AN was appropriate.

zhangyuanyuan, thank you very much for the nice review! I would be very happy if you showed my story to your roommates.

Rika miyake I would like to thank you for giving me a rollercoaster of vibes. The review started out horizontally and suddenly shot up at the second line. But anyways, I'm glad that you can appreciate Harry's Fem name since I myself was getting tired of Rose, Harriet or Violet. I was questioning my choice for a bit, but you had to make me feel good about it, so hey! At least I'm doing something right!

Have fun and enjoy this chapter!

Love,
Valery

(Please don't mind the rushed ending and the stronger use of profanities in this chapter. And let me hear your thoughts on the poem! I personally thought it was really ugly and cringey, but I couldnt resist.)

Guilt engulfed his mind as he stared at the pale face of the girl in his arms. Though Amara looked significantly better than only minutes before, when she was still under the influence of the Akvan, the demon that had cursed her for years, there was a trace of fatigue to be seen on her elven face.

"Amara, are you alright?" Marvolo asked, not bothering to hide the obvious worry in his deep baritone voice.

She trembled as if taken by a cold breeze, and her green eyes – that definitely looked more lucid than when he had arrived – clenched shut. Her hands, that were freezing as nothing should be in such a hot summer, had found they're way up to his collar and were gripping at the luxurious black fabric with a desperation that the Wizard didn't think the girl capable of.

"It's so cold, Marvolo…" came out the strangled reply after what felt like an eternity, and if Marvolo wasn't worried then, he definitely was now.

Without further prompting, he called his house-elf Velae and the servant needed only a look to know what his duties were.

The elf clapped his tiny hands together, and the heavy curtains, along with the bedsheets rearranged and removed themselves respectively, leaving the bedroom in a better state than before.

Another elf appeared to replace the sheets, and did so without much compelling, his snap of the fingers levitating the new covers onto the bed, while Velae opened the windows to expel all the old and disgusting air of the room.

They were promptly closed afterwards, but not until the private room of their Lord had retaken its previous splendour, and the lingering taint of the evil spirit had been removed.

The only evidence of the incident was the girl that they had watched suffer for the last week, helplessly and sadly, but they were glad that their Master had arrived to remove the disgusting shadow that had terrified them into submission.

They loved their Lady and didn't want to see her hurt, but they also knew that only the Master and his Wizards could help her now, so they bowed after completing their tasks, and popped out of the room, leaving the suffering girl in their Master's arms.

The Dark Lord strode up to the bed in large steps, depositing the delicate witch on the clean sheets and leaned forward to wrap her into the thick blanket the elves had conjured when they heard the pained complain of the girl.

Her face, who had before only shown hints of discomfort, was now contorted in a tortured expression, forehead frowning and full lips pressed into a think line.

She opened her eyes, the green colour enchanting and hypnotizing despite the ordeals that she had faced, and she looked at him with an emotion he couldn't decipher.

"Do something, Marvolo.." she moaned out after a second, and he was shaken out of his thoughts by the indignant demand. Her smirked at her, but before he could reply to her impish demand, his reptilian familiar slithered into the room once more, hissing angrily at his motionless figure.

Reminded of her stern talking-to, the wizard took a step back, grabbed Amara's hand and kissed it, only to sent a silent somnus at her.

The girl fell asleep, shivering and writhing on the bed, and Marvolo summoned his potions master mentally, drawing a small sliver of power to complete the silent spell.

While he waited for Severus, as there was personally nothing he could do to help his intended, except for keeping the room the warmest he could, Marvolo walked over to the small living-room portion of his bedroom, where 3 sofas and settees surrounded a low, ornate coffee table.

On it laid the girls invisibility cloak, and finding himself without any desire to stay beside her to worry more, he sat on a sofa and grabbed the cloak, only to find himself surprised at the watery and soft fabric of the enchanted heirloom.

Voldemort touched it and draped it over his strong legs to analyse it further. It shouldn't have surprised him that they disappeared only to leave his chest uncovered, but the sheer magical prowess of the garment nearly perplexed him. Invisibility Cloaks made from the hair of Demiguise lost their effectiveness when said hair turned opaque with wear, but this particular cloak was rumoured to have been passed on in the Potters since the creation of their house. Which had been in the 12th century?

How curious.

There was a low hum of magic around the collar, but the fabric was so velvety that to was hard to decipher what the source was, and just as he was about to flip the cloak over to analyse it further, a strong knock resonated on the wooden door.

Sighing, Marvolo whipped out his wand and pointed it at the Potter heirloom, the fabric seeming to come alive as it floated up in the air and folded itself obediently under the expert use of magic from the man.

"Enter."

Severus Snape strode into the room, tall figure hidden by the billowing black teaching robes that the man seemed unable to discard, even in the holidays.

He walked forward and bowed before his Lord, slight discomfort at being in His bedroom forgotten at the sight of the sleeping witch.

"My lord?" he asked his Master, who had walked towards the bed in the time Snape needed to rise from his bow, and nearly flinched when he was faced with the fake pleasant smile of the Dark Lord.

"Severus… Would you like to tell me what an Akvan was doing in the mind of Amarantha?"

The Slytherin Head-of-House nearly collapsed on the floor when he understood the question but managed to remain strong, if only on the outside.

"An… Akvan?" came his hesitant reply, the need to be reassured that he had heard right strong in his chest, and the man nearly vomited when his Lords smile morphed into a malevolent glare.

"Do not test my patience, Snape. It is bad enough that the Akvan had proceeded to the last stage of the possession, but Amarantha is clearly suffering from the aftermath of the demon's influence.

It is gone of course, but I am in need of a cure for her afflictions, or she will not survive until the morrow."

Snape was silent as he approached the bed, and an emotion of the deepest anguish flit through his onyx eyes as he looked at the sleeping figure of the girl.

He understood what his Lord asked of him and was glad that the necessary cure was easy to procure, if only easy for him.

Akvan was the name of a mind-demon, who either took interest or was summoned by someone with magic to cause another witch or wizard harm.

That demon was a proof of deepfelt rage or malicious intent towards the victim and would haunt the host of their possession by wearing the them down, planting self-hating suggestions into their mind, and then start to actively interact with the weakened host.

This could this could take days or years, depending on the strength and conviction of the person.

The last step was to consume the tired and weakened soul of the victim, but the host had to die before that happened. Many a victim had thrown themselves from high buildings or had been murdered due to the black luck.

There was only one known cure for this affliction, if one managed to recognize the signs of the possession, a curious blend between the elixir of euphoria, the drought of insanity and felix felicis.

Together they would balance each other to render the effect of the Akvan useless and the host would recover from the mental wounds.

Theses potions were hard to procure, and it could seem like a suspicious coincidence that Severus had just the right ingredients and ready potions in his home, until one remembered that he was the youngest wizard ever to have gained a Potions Mastery.

Severus looked at the girl again, and she sighed in her sleep, body turning towards his Lord who immediately grabbed one of her hands and clasped it with his own. During his inner musing, his Lords Familiar had joined her in the spacious bed, the multi-coloured scales of the reptile glinting in the bright room.

"Light the fire and get to work." Came the quiet order of the Dark Lord, whose face looked strange in the setting sunlight that shone through the large windows.

"Yes, My Lord. May I retrieve my personal potions and ingredients for the cure?"

"Do what you must. I trust that you know the way to the lab."

The Potions Master spared the girl one last glance, send a silent incendio to the fireplace and left the room with large steps as he called his house-elf to retrieve the necessary items.

Two hours later saw Snape sprint back into the room as if he had run all the way from the lab to the bedroom, a vial of silvery liquid in his pale hand.

Marvolo, who had resigned himself with watching the sleeping figure of the trembling girl, looked up when the door was slammed open.

Though he didn't move to stand, his eyes narrowed in anger at the sudden violent sound, and he stared at the Professor with a scowl on his face.

As he bowed at the entrance to apologize for the rude arrival, Severus wasted no time to approach the bed once more, and he handed his Lord the fresh potion.

"The potion will only be effective for 15 minutes, My Lord."

"I am well aware of that. Stand aside, I will administer the cure." Snape bowed once more, and retreated to the other side of the bed, his need to observe the gil and make sure that the potion would activate her recovery the only reason why he didn't leave entirely.

Amarantha's health had taken a downturn in his momentary absence, and if he hadn't brought the potion with him, Snape would have been afraid that she would die right there.

The witch was spread out on the bed, limbs tangled in the sheets with one outstretched arm hanging off one side of the bed, presumably the one that the Dark Lord had been clutching when he arrived.

Her long hair, that was normally styled in wild, endearing locks, hung limply by her sides, tangles marring the cascade of shadowy hair.

She was sweating profusely, despite the shivering and the teeth clattering that shook her body each second.

Voldemort had leaned forward during his deep thinking, and his right hand had gone from caressing the damp head to holding her chin delicately as he forced the feminine mouth open.

The shimmering potion was poured into it without much fanfare, the sour smell filling his nostrils despite the distance, but his Lord took the time to massage the throat of the teen with a softness that he wouldn't have believed the wizard capable of.

For a long, oddly short moment nothing happened, and the older man removed his hand from the girl's body to lean back and observe her recovery. Just as he was about to ask Severus why she looked no better than before consuming it, the teen breathed in loudly, and for the first time since he had put her to sleep, it didn't sound as if it was a hardship.

The trembling stopped nearly at the same time as the colour returned to her cheeks and the shine to her hair.

"Enervate." Voldemort cast at Amara, and she woke up instantly, long eyelashes brushing against her cheeks when her tsavorite eyes opened.

Both men glanced at each other briefly, relieved that she had regained her health in under a minute when she yelped in surprise at the sight of them.

"Marvolo? Professor Snape?" she asked, and both of them turned to look at her questioningly.

"How are you feeling Amarantha?" Asked Voldemort, and he sat back on the summoned chair at her bedside.

"I feel freakingly good! What are you both doing here? Did something happen?" the men looked at each other once more, finally understanding that she seemed to have no recollection of the recent events.

But they were proved wrong when she gasped once more, and a look of pure terror marred her enchanting face.

"Oh my Gosh! What the hell was that thing that was coming after me!" the girl sat up and was about to jump out of the bed when Marvolo's hand landed on her thin shoulder and pressed her back into the mattress.

Severus watched both of them for a little while, and he knew that his welcome had expired when the Lord nodded at him distractedly.

He took a step back, bowed briefly to his Lord and His intended, and walked out of the room, ignoring the questioning stare that burned into his back.

The fact that the girl felt concerned, or at least the slightest bit curious about him left the man leaving oddly warm in his chest, though not out of some perversion, but due to his love to the deceased Lily.

Though he may love his wife, he was still very much infatuated by his dead childhood friend, a fact that the new woman of his life knew, accepted and welcomed, telling him that he would be a cold bastard if he removed any semblance of emotions from his past.

Amara turned back to look at Marvolo, now having calmed down since realizing that he had shown no hint of nervousness or discomfort since she woke up. He had probably killed whatever it was that had scared the living daylights out of her during this past week.

So, seeing no need to actively panic, since it was a waste of breath and energy that she couldn't afford to right now, the witch relaxed further into the bed and fixed the Dark Lord with an imploring stare.

For the first time in a long time, despite waking up not 5 minutes ago, Amara felt stronger and more determined since hearing the awful truth of the Order of the Phoenix.

There was a power thrumming through her veins in a way that she had missed and hadn't realized that had disappeared in the last weeks.

"It will not be 'coming after you' no longer, I can assure you that." Was the man's dry reply, and despite the slight fear that had remained, the girl flushed in indignation.

"Well, excuse me for being so inarticulate, Marvolo, but you should know that it is quite understandable to react this way, especially when one is attacked and followed by a shadowy creep for a good week, if not more!" Amara's answer brought a smile to his lips, that caused the girl to flush out of entirely different reasons.

He took her hands into his, as he had removed them from her shoulders once she had calmed down and went to kiss the knuckles when the witch scrunched her nose in disgust.

"I…I need a shower. Now." Understanding filled Voldemort, and a smirk spread over his handsome chiselled features as he released the delicate hands softly.

"You know where the bathroom is. But we will continue this conversation once you are clean." She nodded and hopped out of the bed, the shirt and shorts riding up to reveal more of her delectable skin, but the wizard forced himself to remain calm.

This was not the time, nor the perfect situation to initiate physical contact. Not to mention that half of this ordeal was his fault anyway.

In the background, Nagini pouted as only a snake could, and slithered into one of the vents, feeling slightly aggravated that her stupid two-legged companion had somehow not accumulated the wrath of the delicate girl.

Around half an hour later, during which Velae had changed the covers again, Amara came out of the bathroom clad in a pair of silken shorts and a strappy shirt, rosy-cheeked and feeling rejuvenated due to the warm water of the luxurious shower. After his silent invitation, she slipped under the blankets again, her lovely eyes glinting in anticipation about the conversation to come.

Instead of laying down she shuffled towards the headboard until her back was firmly pressed against the numerous pillows that lined the top of the bed, and she gave him a shy smile as she searched for the most comfortable position.

But this comfort didn't last for long, as both man and girl finally settled down to a silence that left the room tense and electrified.

Marvolo moved forward and finally captured her hands into his large palms, his warm skin touching hers and he looked into her eyes, mesmerized by the sight of an Amara that looked stronger, healthier and more stunning than in the past weeks.

Something had changed inside of her, or rather had come back, the fire of passion and conviction returning to accentuate the power that pumped inside of her veins.

Not for the first time since returning to Slytherin Manor, Marvolo asked himself how in Morgana's name he had ignored the fact that she was being haunted. Her behaviour between 3 weeks ago and now was so dichotomous, that even a blind person could have seen the difference.

But there were more things that he had to analyse about her, given the fact that he had barely interacted with her since her shower, and for a split second, he was glad that they were to conduct this conversation right then.

Until he remembered Nagini's accusations, that were sadly well founded. He had abandoned her and had refused to come back until he couldn't resist her siren's call anymore.

"Why did you leave so suddenly?" The girls soft, but somehow strong, voice ripped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked at her silently until he finally understood the question. Of course, this took less than a second, but to Marvolo it felt like an eternity, which left him quite irate at himself for his lapse of attention.

"I didn't mean for my absence to leave you- "

"But you meant for something to happen." Came the steely reply, and Marvolo was momentarily speechless at her bravery for interrupting him for the first time in weeks, and her sudden anger.

He didn't quite know how to respond to that, this, in essence, he had meant for something to happen. Though never on her side, since it would firstly go against his vow to protect her, and secondly his reason for leaving was due to a problem of his.

Specifically, his problem with Amara.

For weeks now, he had felt a rather strong pull to her, that he knew to be the courting magic, but to feel so dependant on companionship where he had valued his solitude above all else was infuriating.

This attraction added to that as well, since it could be argued that Amarantha was nothing more than a child, a mere girl entering the last stages of puberty though it didn't show much.

Where he had preferred his lovers to be well endowed in all departments, he found himself oddly charmed by the subtle rise of the witch's chest, the delicate slope of her feminine throat and the small curve of her backside.

Though there was much more to her than her body, Marvolo was a carnal creature through and through, and to have his decade-long preference thrown back to his face by an adolescent was insulting.

He felt possessive each time the knowledge of her virginity was reminded to him, though he knew she wasn't entirely untouched, there were many things, such as simple pleasure, that she was inexperienced about.

Her shyness during their first sexual encounter was endearing as well as infuriating, and all of these factors together made him want to gather her into his arms and dance in joy, or shake her in anger because, goddammit if she wasn't so fucking enchanting he wouldn't be bothered, but she was his horcrux and just simply his!

And he wanted to marry her right there on the spot or kill her because he didn't know those emotions, and he didn't know how to handle them.

Marvolo simply had to think of her large eyes, powerful magic and quick wit to be rendered to a sappy mess (In his eyes only).

So, he left the morning after procuring her wand and cloak for her, if only for a couple of days, to get his thoughts in order and find peace by throwing Crucio's at his Death Eaters like sweets at bubbly children on All Hollows Eve.

Of course, he didn't engage in the last activity, but he digressed.

The problem was that Marvolo didn't know what to do, and his conflicted emotions and thoughts had him seriously question whether he should bother hiding the courtship from the girl at all.

Now that he knew her a little better, he was aware that she would never forgive him if her tricked her into a marriage, be it loveless or not, but trickery was the way he did things, along with murder, torture and lying.

He was a Dark Lord. It was all he could do.

Amarantha's question was reminded to him when he felt the heavy feeling of a stare, and he looked up to see the object of his thoughts glaring at him like an irate kitten.

A small amused huff escaped his nose, but he recoiled when indignant hurt entered her eyes.

Had she mistaken his show of amusement as an insult to her curiosity. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he looked at the girl who had turned away with barely concealed horror, due to the fact that there was another thing that he was begrudgingly incapable of, and it was apologizing sincerely.

Sure, Marvolo could whip out the 'sorry, my bad' card all he wanted, and had done so repeatedly with Amara in the past month, but to do it with complete and utter honesty due to something that was entirely his fault was something he was very bad at.

Like right now.

The wizard stood up hesitantly and walked to the other side of the bed, where Amara was facing, but when she turned to where he had been previously something angry snapped inside of him, something that had been fighting inside his chest ever since seeing the Akvan leaning over her then corpse-like body.

Marvolo slid his shoes of his feet without bending over, his feet helping one another to escape the restricting footwear, and he threw his robe to the ground as he climbed into the bed that was his goddammit!

Amara, who had up to this point been facing the other wall as she was sulking in silence at the perceived insult, only realized that there was something fishy going on with the older man when the mattress dipped under the weight of the heavier human who had climbed into bed with her.

A surprised squeak escaped her opened mouth, and before she knew it, Marvolo had gathered into his strong arms and squished her into his chest like a child with his teddy bear.

Though there was something strangely amusing about her current predicament, Amara knew that something was wrong with Marvolo, so instead of trying to escape his nearly bruising hold, she turned so that she could face his face.

"I am beyond livid at what happened. Though you do not know it, I didn't leave out of any desire to hurt you or to see you hurt by something else.

There were many factors that played into my sudden departure, and though many resolved around you, none were negative in the slightest."

The girl was shocked into silence, and a strange expression of wonder overtook her fact for a split second until his meaning caused her to blush slightly.

"What I mean to say is that I'm sorry for leaving you all of a sudden like this, and I deeply regret playing a part in what transpired here."

Amarantha, who had regained some control over her features, looked up at his apology, a strange coldness in her eyes that melted as soon as she saw the sincerity in his maroon orbs.

She remained quiet for a moment, and Marvolo seized that opportunity to continue speaking.

"I left as soon as I awoke, and only had the time to dress and write you the note, so I apologize for not saying goodbye personally as well."

"Why didn't you wake me up then? It's not like I was sleeping on the other side of the manor. I was right next to you." Came the indignant reply, understanding disappearing nearly instantly when the man uttered his second apology.

"Are you terribly angry at me?" Marvolo could have cursed his tongue for attempting to fill the silence, but instead of placating her like he wanted her passionate character reared its pretty head once more.

But instead of reacting like he expected, with her screaming out in anger that she hated him, and didn't ever want to see him again, Amara narrowed her eyes in aggravation as she bit her lip thoughtfully.

It took a while for her to reply, but when she did, the Dark Lord could have kissed her in joy for the happy feeling she provoked in him.

"No, I'm not really angry. Sure, I'm pissed off because you acted rather bizarrely, and because I nearly died today, and I've had it up till here with the near-death experiences."

The girl's hand managed to wiggle itself out of his strong grip to touch her head, and she huffed in irritation.

"But the truth is that I understand that it wasn't your complete fault. Though I would like it if you could explain what exactly this creature was. I don't think that we've ever seen or heard of it during our Defence against the Dark Arts classes."

Marvolo smiled at her, full lips rising and bringing out his dimples, and if a subtle flush appeared on the girl's pale cheeks, none chose to comment on it.

"I place my trust in you Marvolo, and though I know that you have done anything but reassuring me of your good intentions, I would like to have a room of my own once more."

The Wizard's grip tightened on the slim waist until he knew that it would leave bruises and she whimpered in discomfort.

The effect was immediate. Marvolo shot up from his laying position as he let the girl's body slip from his grasp.

The sudden chocking hold on her had left her breathless, and she was left laying on the bed with spread arms, breath quick and heavy as the oxygen filled her lungs again.

The Dark Lord stared at her face, fascinated by the flush that covered her neck, collarbones and upper-chest before ripping his eyes away from the delicious sight of the unmarred pale skin.

But this didn't deter her from her desire, so once Amara had regained her breath, she leaned up on her forearms, hair caressing her nearly naked shoulders.

"Marvolo?"

"I do not think this to be a good Idea." The girl's eyes flashed in sudden anger, but she didn't lash out as she would have at the beginning of her capture.

"If all of this taught me one thing, it is that I need to find peace with myself. If I ever want to understand what is going on in my head, then I need to analyse, to realize and accept who I am."

"All of which you could do easily in the day-room, the garden or your personal study. You do not need a bedroom of your own. Besides, I believe that seclusion and independent reflection in the least recommendable course of action, especially in light of recent events. It would be prudent to remember that solitude was the direct cause of this incident."

"An incident that could have been avoided if you hadn't deemed it necessary to disappear like smoke in the wind without warning."

If Marvolo was a lesser person, he would have flushed in irritation, but he simply raised an eyebrow at the impish reply.

But even like this, and with all of the arguments that Amara had to convince him otherwise, the steely look in his red gaze told her that this would be the one thing where he wouldn't budge.

So, after competing in a glaring contest for a few seconds despite knowing that she wouldn't win, the girl simply huffed and crossed her arms in her laying position.

Seeing that she had resigned herself with sleeping beside him, but still held a form of resentment at his control over her, the older man decided to turn up the charm, and in a sudden moment of passion he grabbed both of her small hands in his larger ones and pulled her into his lap.

He kissed them softly, lips caressing the pale flesh with adoration, and his eyes flickered up to gaze at her enchanting face, that graced him with a look of utter surprise and reluctant pleasure.

"When I returned, I thought that I would find you in good health, angry or pleased with me, but when I couldn't find you and went to investigate, I knew that something was wrong.
The elves and the Manor alone didn't clue me in on this, but also the oppressive atmosphere spoke for themselves.

And when I finally found you, you were hanging by a thread on your life, and I felt so terrible… Not even for a second did I think of the Horcrux that you guard for me. I only wanted to see you safe and happy.

You can understand my hesitation to let you out of my sight, now that I have you healthy and somewhat pleased in my arms. You know that I try to respect your wishes where they matter, but this is one of the things where I will not budge."

By the end of his little speech, Amarantha had a slight sheen on her eyes, the comforting and heartfelt words appealing to her Gryffindor and the lonely child inside her.

So, she accepted his worry with a sigh, and for the first time in their whatever-the-name-of-this-is, the witch leaned forward and initiated a kiss.

It felt like coming home. It was slow and soft, full of tickling eyelashes and brushing of noses, but it reassured the bond they were creating and that had suffered under the separation.

By the end of it, Amara was blushing so hard that Marvolo could feel the heat radiate from her face. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that the girl could feel it beneath her fingertips, as her hand's had been let go of their hold and had travelled around his neck.

It was one of their tamest kisses, but it left both aching for something more, for something that Amara knew she wasn't quite ready for.

The Potter looked up to his face and gifted him with a bright smile that took his breath away, and the man pressed her against his chest at the profound emotion that filled the hole he had always know his heart to be.

But the warm moment was soon forgotten, as the heiress remembered the question that had been burning in the back of her mind since before their little argument.

"What was that creature though?"

"It was an Akvan, a demon that preys on wizards and witches. They can be summoned by an ill-wisher with access to magic, and cause mental issues within the victim, in this case, you.

The voices that you mentioned, the heightened sadness and apathy can all be natural, but since I can see that you do not seem to suffer from the same afflictions after the demon's 'death', I can assume that they were caused by it."

She was livid with anger and fear, as her hands slipped from his neck to press themselves against her opened mouth.

But upon listening to his last statement, she dropped her hands to her lap as she took a pensive stance.

"Now that you mention it, I never did hear voices before this summer. I have always been prone to melancholia but that is understandable, considering the fucked-up way my life has been since I was a baby…"

"Then it is safe to assume that someone has a grudge with you and cursed you during the last weeks before the holidays."

"What do you mean?"

"An Akvan is summoned, as I mentioned before, but the time it needs to manifest ranges from days to years.

I am certainly glad that I arrived on time, or you would have been beyond saving."

There was a silent moment, where Amara crawled further into his lap that Marvolo had thought possible, but he could somehow understand the reason why.

It wasn't every day that someone you didn't know tried to murder you, and not in this manner. It had been different with him, since she had known every time that someone tried to kill her that it was indirectly connected to him, only this time it wasn't, and it took a blanket of security away from her.

As she sat and fed off his warmth like a cold-blooded reptile, Marvolo whispered the meanings, origins and actions of the Demon, and by the end of it, Amara was reduced to tears.

"Why would someone try to do something like this to me, Marvolo?"

"People like us are powerful, beautiful, intelligent and the general object of envy. It should come as no surprise that someone dirtied their hands to remove a better person from the equation."

The witch took a ragged breath as the man handed her a handkerchief he had conjured out of thin air and dabbed it against her wet face.

"But that's so cruel!"

"It is, and I can assure you that the culprit will not go unpunished. It may be hard to track the magical footprints of a demon-summoning, but I will seek retribution."

She smiled and sniffed again, the Heiress's chagrined state leaving her wanting for more comfort, so she snuggled harder against his chest, arms sliding around his waist until she hugged him.

Marvolo simply smiled at her softly, red eyes filled to the brim with satisfaction that she liked him well enough to seek his attention and reassurance.

But despite his comforting embrace, he could feel that she remained inconsolable and that bursts of tears wracked her bod every once in a while.

"Don't cry more, Amarantha. There is no need to. The Demon is dead, and I will find the person who attempted to have you killed. I told you that I would protect you."

Instead of stopping like he wanted her to, she huffed out a laugh and cried harder into his hard chest, the rich material now sporting wet spots where the tears would fall occasionally.

"I'm not just crying because of this, Marvolo. I am rather used to have people after my life if you remember."

He would have stiffened at the obvious jab against him if it weren't for the fact that she didn't mean it maliciously.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I thought I had gone around the bend. Now I know that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were wrong about me. I mean, I always knew that they were filthy liars, what with my parents and so on."

Her voice went from sad and soft to vicious in a second, and Marvolo found himself rather liking this side of her. Her tears had miraculously stopped midway through the sentence, but he was certainly not complaining.

But he understood the unmentioned things her statement had put into light, and the wizard's eyes started glowing in righteous fury.

"Were they the people who gave you your scars?"

At this, she stiffened in his arms, and after a short moment of contemplation, she backed away so that she could see his face.

Her hands reached up to grasp his jaw, the medium-length nails scratching against the stubbled skin softly, and Voldemort's eyes who glowed dangerously descended to stare at his intended.

She looked hesitant as if she was checking whether he was important enough to tell him the truth.
It took only a second for the wizard to realize with, and he closed his eyes with a sigh, exasperated at the situation.

He felt her nod more than he heard the confirmation.

"Please don't kill Aunt Petunia. She is my only Blood-Relative left."

"And the Uncle?"

"He is of no consequence." The reply was surprisingly playful, and he opened his eyes to be faced with the girl's bright tsavorite orbs. She was smiling, and though there were traces of her previous sad feelings, she looked a little happier.
There was a slight gleam in her eyes that reminded him of Narcissa when she was about to ruin the reputation of one of the other Ladies at social gatherings. In words haughty, confident and lively, though Amarantha looked more like the picture of youthful innocence than the older Malfoy Witch could hope to at her age.

"Anything else?" There was a Machiavellian smile on the elven face, and she opened her mouth to utter her answer.

"The rooster and egg amused themselves,

Each evening on the young girl's shell.

And even though the Chicken knew,

Her view of the world was quite askew.

And when finally the girl wept,

The Dark Lord knew she needed help.

So the girl's old homestead then was raided,

And the chicken watched and called in terror

As the son and Husband realized their error.

The girl and her Lord live with fervor,

And the memories just faded."

Had it been any other day, any other moment or any other situation, Marvolo would have marched out to kill the damned family at once, but her smile and the guarded tension around her eyes made him see that he couldn't just leave her as randomly as before.

So he satisfied the raging monster inside of him with the knowledge that she had essentially given him the permission to murder her uncle and cousin. Had she worded it better, he would also have been able to kill the Aunt, but he was free to torture her as he saw fit. He would have to train her better in the Slytherin ways, he thought, until he caught glimpse of the cat-got-the-canary, heavy-lidded stare.

The little minx.

Marvolo laughed aloud and pressed a kiss on the girl's head, enjoying this light banter after such a stressful situation more than he anticipated.

She was utterly perfect, and if he did everything right, he would have a powerful, confident Queen by his side to command and direct the people of Wizarding Britain into a brighter future.

Four days before her birthday, Amarantha awoke to the sound of fluttering wings and of soft hoots, and she sat up tiredly to see that a familiar Eagle Owl observing her creepily from Hedwig's stand.

In fact, her own snowy white bird was screeching angrily at the stranger, insulted at having its space stolen by the rival bird of prey.

"What in Merlin's name…?" She muttered, and one final screech was enough to wake even Marvolo, had been sleeping heavily up until this point. The man opened one eye lazily, then the other, and removed the arm that he had draped around her chest to prevent her from leaving during the night.

Finally able to move properly, Amara sat up to analyse the situation better and shushed her Owl softly when she saw just how angry the white bird was becoming.

The eagle-owl was carrying a missive, she realized when she saw the rolled-up parchment attached to its right leg.

Upon seeing that the girl had finally woken up, it flew over to her and dropped the note onto her lap, completely ignoring the threatening wizard that had grabbed his wand upon seeing the intruder.

"What is the meaning of this Amarantha?" Came the angry question from the Dark Lord, who had been enjoying a nice and satisfying dream of the future, where he and his chosen wife would rule in peace and prosperity when he was woken up by what sounded like the Hogwarts Mail delivery.

The bird had the gall to ignore him as well, preferring to simply give the message it was carrying to his fiancée and flying away to the birdstand once more.

"I don't know. Though it gave me this."

The petite girl needed no further prompting than his displeased grunt – to which she shot him an irritated side-eye – she opened the note, only to find a code that she had never thought she would ever see again.

"Oh my Gosh!" she exclaimed and scrambled for her wand. A quick accio later was a quill flying into her hand, and she scrambled out of bed to write something on the same paper. A few minutes later, that were used by her to read was written on the short missive and by him to observe the delicate slope of her collarbone into her shirt, Amara jumped back into the bed, moved tears and a bright smile illuminating her beautiful face.

"Would you care to tell me what this commotion was all about?"

Instead of replying, the adolescent threw herself into his arms and squealed in joy, her sudden action serving as a reminder to the man that he intended to marry a girl that hadn't even reached her majority yet.

But the sheer joy she was expressing and the warmth that spread in his cold heart at the sight of her ecstatic face was enough to quiet the dissatisfied voices that the back of his head provided from time to time.

She may be younger, but she was equal in all ways that mattered.

When the parchment was finally pressed into his hands, he didn't really care for it anymore, but he had to act on whatever was affecting her so much, so he simply pressed a loving kiss to her temple and laid back down to read.

To my dearest Amara,

Dark have been my Dreams of late.

This would be of no importance if it were anyone other than you featuring as the protagonist in each and every one of them.

I, along with other acquaintances that both of us hold very dear (Gemini, Aquila, Canis Major as well as Lupus to name a few) would very much like to lay eyes on you.

Unfortunately, the Omen of Death has been very ill as of late, due to the Salem Gibraltar that Gat has given him.

Is it not strange, how sometimes we act according to other people's wishes, despite not wanting to?

I hear that only the best of Potions are used in their production.

Rest assured that none of us were involved in the enslavement of the Lilium's sprog.

We were most chagrined to be informed of the theft as well.

I hope this letter finds you in the greatest of adventures,

Sincerely yours,

Diane Hatesorrow.

"What is the meaning of this cryptic letter?" Marvolo knew that there was something behind this, or his intended wouldn't be writhing with happiness at this very moment.

"Flip it around!"

To my dearest Amara,

Dark have been my visions of late

This would be of no importance if it were anyone other than you featuring as the protagonist in each and every one of them.

I, along with other acquaintances that both of us hold very dear (The twins, Neville, Sirius as well as Lupin to name a few) would very much like to lay eyes on you.

Unfortunately, the Grim has been very ill as of late, due to the Lemon Drops that Dumbledore has given him.

Is it not strange, how sometimes we act according to other people's wishes, despite not wanting to?

I hear that only the best of Potions are used in their production.

Rest assured that none of us were involved in the betrothal of Lily's daughter.

We were most chagrined to be informed of the theft as well.

I hope this letter finds you in the greatest of adventures,

Sincerely yours,

Luna Lovegood.

"And this means?" At her disappointed frown, Marvolo regarded her with a dead-pan stare, that could have easily translated into 'Excuse me, I just woke up to a couple of fighting owls'. Amara smiled at him in apology and kissed him on the cheek thoughtlessly as she sat comfortably on his belly.

"Well, It is a letter from one of my dearest friend, that I am ashamed to have forgotten during my recent stay. She basically told me that her visions have been about me in the last couple of weeks, that my godfather has been imperioused and that they had nothing to do with the engagement and the theft of my fortune."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, seeing why some parts of that letter would please her, but not understanding the one about her Godfather.

"That may very well be comforting, but I have two questions regarding your elation to the matter. One, why exactly would you believe any words Miss Lovegood is telling you in a missive of all things, and two, why exactly is the news of your Godfathers Magical enslavement pleasing to hear about."

The girl simply smiled, patience radiating from her body like the holy glow of a saint.

"Though it may sound twisted, I am pleased about my Godfathers Imperious because it means that he hasn't been an asshole voluntarily. The last time I saw him he was acting really weird, and that was after the whole shit at the Ministry of Magic. And about the other thing, well that's easy to explain. Luna is incapable of lying. There is no way that she can lie. It's just not possible. And that counts for writing too."

"And why would your friend have this inability."

"It's simple. She's a true seer."

Sirius Orion Black was subliminally fucked. And not in the nice ways, like when he was caught after pulling off a riskier prank, or when he had successfully managed to chat up a cute bloke or bird.

Mostly blokes, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that Sirius wasn't sure if he would ever make it out of this situation alive.

In fact, it was very improbable that he would ever see the world through free eyes.

That's right.

Sirius had managed to get himself imperioused.

How did you ask? That's actually a very interesting story.

The night of the Battle in the Ministry of Magic, where his somewhat dumb but very smart goddaughter had managed to be lured into by the fucking Dark Lord of all people, the Lord of House Black had avoided his crazed Cousin Bellatrix' stupefy that would have sent him flying into the Veil of Death like Alice down the rabbit hole. Or a garden gnome into the bin. Or a-

Well, the point was that after Battle, when Amara had thrown a hissy fit Dumb-ledore's office, he had swiped the Lemon drop that the grandfatherly Wizard had kindly pressed into the open hand of his best friend's daughter.

Airheaded as he was, Sirius hadn't thought more about the stolen treat until he started feeling light-headed and out of sorts.

Before he knew it, Albus Dumbledore had claimed ownership over him and had gotten him to do his bidding.

Which obviously left the caged, real Sirius that roamed in the premises of his mind apoplectic with rage.

But he was powerless against the commands under the tacet imperium (Liquid Imperious as the Brits liked to call it) so when the order came to descend the stairs of Grimmauld Place Nr.12 to attend yet another meeting the second order of the order of the Phoenix were throwing, Sirius mentally sighed and followed the command.

On the way, the Ex-Azkaban prisoner lamented the fact that he would be forced to listen to yet another round of sadistic scheming and gloating on the part the ugly Weasley Matriarch, as they prepared for the wedding that was to take place in the kitchen tomorrow.

What a nice spot, right?

No, it fucking wasn't, and it also wasn't fucking fair that the wedding would unite Ronald the Pig and his delicate, flower princess Amarantha in matrimony.

Furthermore, it grated on his bloody nerves that none of them had the courtesy to shut up about it in his presence, especially the groom-to-be and his ratty-haired lover.

Both were strutting around the house like they owned the damn place, noses high up in the air like his stuck-up Malfoy-relations.

Sirius snorted. Trust the dumbest Weasley's to resemble the slippery Peacocks on the other spectrum of the financial caste.

Another thing that made him nervous was the absence of his one-time friend, and now long-time lover Remus Lupin, whom he had been forced to separate from under the influence of the potion

His cute little werewolf was so self-conscious and problematic that he had believed each and every word the Black Lord had told him. He was gone the next day, his whereabouts unknown expects from Dumbledore who claimed that 'Their boy was in good hands and doing them a service for the greater good'.

If Sirius had been able to, he would have surely assassinated the old goat when he visited the loo of the house or would have slit his own wrists in grief. He was a Black, and thus prone to melodramatics of the greatest kind. Juliet had been a daughter of the House of Noir, a daughter branch to their British family.

Romeo was an offspring of the Zabini's if the archives were to be believed, but once again, that wasn't the point.

Frankly, it was exhausting to live with those pests, and for the first time in his life, he Sirius found himself agreeing with his banshee of a mother.

It was a travesty, what the order of the Phoenix was willing to do to win this blasted, useless war.

In his early years, he had fought for them because of the novelty and now, because he wanted to avenge James and Lily.

But nothing was worth the destruction the supposed light side gave the Dark. The crazier members (Moody, Molly and his very own cousin Nymphadora to name a few) would find pleasure and joy when they tortured their opponents.

Dumbledore researched into the background of the families that were to be attacked, and took their children – if they had some- to raise them to either serve him personally or to fight for him in the future. The Carrows had been the most recent example, their twin sons supposedly dying in the fire that Moody had lit under their cribs.

But they had in truth been taken without the notice of their parents, who had been busy protecting themselves, and golems had been lit in a poor copy of the babes.

It was nauseating to be present during the private celebrations of the sickos. Many members were unaware of the anguish and havoc their co-fighters unleashed on the other side, so each time the Dark retaliated with viciousness after such an attack, the ignorant members would only see this as a sign of cruelty.

This served the Headmaster quiet well. Have some commit atrocities, so that the angered opposition retaliated, and have the rest of the world believe you when you give sermons about the cruelty of the enemy and how they needed to be eradicated.

During these… 'private conversations' the older members revealed to his unwilling mind that This had gone on for more than a decade, and had caused the eradication of many noble, and ancient houses since the start of the war from before.

Sirius descended the last step, emotionless face hiding the turbulent thoughts that raged behind his grey eyes, and he looked at the kitchen door at the end of the hallway. It was slightly ajar, and the sound of roaring laughter could be heard the closer he came to it.

"Yeah! I'm gunna fuck her long and good, and she'll be my whore. Watcha think 'Mione?"

"I think that serves her just right! Potter has been nothing more than a nuisance since our first year."

Had Sirius been in control of his body, he was sure that the bile would have risen to his throat at the sound of the words, but alas, he could do nothing more than walk towards the brightly lit Kitchen.

His hand moved forward to grab the doorknob, and just as he was about to pull the door open, two arms shot out of the darkness and grabbed him.

Sirius was pulled into the small bathroom that was situated on the side of the Kitchen, and when he turned around to leave the room, his head was suddenly thrown back in a choking hold, one long-fingered hand pinching his nose close as the other uncorked a vial of potion with a practised move.

Oh my.

Was he about to die?

But instead of poison as he expected, the content of the vial, that had been poured into his gaping mouth, tasted like the fresh breeze in a plain and the laughter of children.

It tasted like freedom.

Sirius was savouring the feeling like a thirsty man craved water, but he was jolted out of his thoughts by a sudden kick that threw him to the floor.

But for the first time in a month, he had the strength to make his own decisions, so he immediately jumped back to his feet and faced his saviour and attacker, only to be faced by the person he had least expected.

"What is the meaning of this, Snape?"

The Portions Professor smirked at him and threw a folded-up letter at his feet.

"I was sent here by someone you greatly treasure. This person asked me to release you from the imperious, and to give you this letter, though it is only to be read once you have acted upon your desires.

As you owe me a life-debt, I expect you to keep your silence."

With no further words, the tall man whirled out of the small restroom and disappeared in the darkness of the unlit corridor.

Speechless and ecstatic, Sirius stared back at the figure of his once favourite bullying victim and shook his head in disbelief.

Weird creep.

But the Black Lord was nothing if not opportunistic, so he crouched down to pick up the letter, and got to work.

He would never allow anyone to hurt his precious Amaranth-Flower. Not while he was sound of mind and alive.

He had duties as a god-father, and he would be damned if he let that little scoundrel put his grubby hands and small cock where it didn't belong, especially between Amara's unwilling thighs.