Chapter Eleven

“With such an enthusiastic endorsement for the job, one does wander why the queue isn’t halfway to the Thames,” Severus drawled, returning his focus to the contract in front of him.

The Minister’s deep chuckle tugged at the corner of Severus’ lips. “I’m afraid you are the only candidate I’m willing to consider for the post, my friend.” Spy instincts picked up on the man’s movement back toward his desk without Severus employing the first ocular muscle. “Not even the Prime Minister’s brother-in-law made the cut. With either of us.”

“Then I should be flattered.” Severus parked the document in his lap and leaned back in his chair, taking in the seriousness circling the amusement in his compatriot’s dark eyes. “Of course, I don’t remember poor Clive making the cut for anything. In either world.”

Kingsley laughed, his tall frame shaking slightly from the power of the contrabass vibration. “Indeed he hasn’t.”

A full smile erupted on Severus’ lips for a moment. Then the seriousness of the offer settled in and arched his eyebrow. “Why me, Kingsley?”

The elder wizard sighed softly, his face placid with sincerity. “Because you have a good heart, Severus. It’s time you were given the opportunity to use it without the shadow of life debts and Machiavellian masters muddying the accomplishments. Besides” —the man’s eyes sparked with mischief— “I think that witch of yours would appreciate you being in a shiny new office just around the corner instead of sequestered in a dank castle hundreds of miles away. Especially since the wedding is in—“

It permeated every corner of the child’s dying mind and shimmered around the memories encased in bubbles meant to protect them from the chaos. The chill from the dimming life force collided with the arctic landscape of her damaged psyche and caused the temperature to plummet to nearly unbearable. Pulling his cloak a little more tightly about him, he reached out for the earliest memories she was willing to offer.

The little capsule nudged him with all the excitement of a child meeting a new friend. Careful not to damage it, he picked it up and peered inside. It was a party of some sort. Birthday? Christmas, perhaps? Whatever the gathering celebrated, the girl seemed to be at the center of it, peering around at the others with a charming snaggletoothed grin. And while the crystals of methamphetamine obscured the images, he felt the familial connection. Parents, siblings, an aunt and uncle, they were all there. And, for that moment, she was loved. He gently set the container aside and waited.

The next memory hurtled toward him at dizzying speed. He caught it deftly, but the force of impact nearly knocked him off his feet. Unsettled, he peeked inside. Once again, the drugs muted the faces to indistinguishable blobs of flesh tones. There were only three this time, two with a familial tether and one not quite a stranger, but almost. A deal of some sort was being brokered. Hands clasped forearms and the light of oath-linked magic filled the room. Once it dimmed, the unfamiliar member of the group turned and took the girl by the hand. A moment later, she was standing in the middle of the dingy flat, completely alone.

Another memory rolled toward him like a tidal wave; growing larger and larger through the chemically induced psychedelic haze until it swamped him. He struggled against the undertow until the surge calmed and the images cleared.

This time, there was no distortion of features. Ronald Weasley’s freckled face was as clear as if he’d been standing inside the girl’s mind with Severus. His blue eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded with lust. His lips were pulled taut against his teeth in a lecherous grin that turned Severus’ stomach. “My, you are a pretty little thing.” He slid a calloused finger down the girl’s cheek; her shudder at the contact vibrated through Severus as he watched from the sidelines. “What say we get to know each other a little better?”

The girl swallowed hard, but acquiesced. What other choice was there? “All right.” She took his proffered hand and he led her to the bed.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Ever been kissed?

“No.”

The questions and answers churned around Severus in the narrowing tunnel of perception. Fear and disgust whipped around him like the winds of a cyclone, tearing at his cloak. He was disoriented and nauseous as the girl’s emotions overwhelmed him.

The temperature dipped as the sound of rending cloth echoed in the still room. He wanted nothing more than to add his strength to hers. To wrap her in his robes and prevent the perverted wizard looming above her from touching her. But this was a memory. All he could do was stand by and watch the girl’s torment.