Epiphany

Author's Notes: Three drabbles in this chapter, and that brings me up to date. Dates and required words precede each drabble. Thank you for reading this far, and I hope you enjoy.

July 26th

1. supernumerary

2. gamine

3. vituperation

4. melange

5. sempiternal

6. diadem

7. extol

Bella nibbled on the Healer's ragged thumbnail and held herself across her midriff as if the act could somehow quell the intense emotions thundering through the body. Occasionally, a stifled squeak would pass her lips, but she stomped down on her rising and rebellious glee; it would not do to make the Healer look too out of character, but it was... just... so... glorious!

I can get into his head! I can get inside his head and play around... Oh, how I can make him suffer!

The thought screamed through her mind, sending all other thoughts scurrying in the face of its fearsome ecstasy. Her skin tingled and her heart pounded... She hadn't felt this alive since the Mark had burnt on her arm, darkening as her Master had called her. But He was gone now; Snape and the others had connived to kill him, and He was gone... He was gone and she was still here, just as He had been... Not quite dead; not quite alive. She could not extol her new gift enough... The Killing Curse had elevated her to a new state... a new power!

So, he loved the Mudblood, Lily! Well, I can use that to better effect than mere taunts.

It was as if slipping into Snape's mind had heralded her epiphany, and she felt herself fall into a manic melange of burgeoning possibilities, her mind carrying her on relentlessly. Her rapid breath misted the glass as she pressed her head against the cool, refreshing surface; her thoughts were spiralling out of control, dragging her into some chaotic vortex as they surged onwards, tugging her towards some terrible and yet intensely alluring, almost erotic, conclusion.

Whimpering and lips trembling, her eyes fluttering closed, and her skin burning, she collapsed against the window, her slick hands scrabbling at the glass as she slid to the floor, succumbing to the power of her fantasy.

I should be dead, but I am not!

Panting and almost writhing on the tiled floor, her hands gripped her hair as if the sting of nails across scalp could ease the power of the thoughts rampaging through her skull. Mouth open and feeling unfamiliar stirrings in her lower abdomen, she tried to resist the allure of her greedy mind's imaginings.

Just like Him... but he is gone.... Gone! No Horcruxes keep me tied to this world, she mused jubilantly. Nothing to end my stay here! No fragments of my soul to hunt down and destroy. How would they stop me?

Tears streamed down her face as her thoughts condensed into one staggering and exquisite thought...she could be the next Dark Lord... and she would be sempiternal!

Grinning and giggling, she squirmed sensuously on the floor, her hands sliding out over the tiles, anchoring her body as her mind descended further into the delirium of her desires. She would make them pay for what they had done: all of them! She would destroy them. She laughed out as one, final idea rose up like the head of a Basilisk...she would give them places of honour; Potter's eyes, Weasley's tongue, Granger's brain and Snape's heart set in gold upon her head: a diadem of the dead.

~X~

Something battered at the glass, and as Narcissa cried out in alarm, Lucius darted from his chair, his eyes wide and his face deathly pale, to stand between window and wife. Glancing back at her, his heart stuttering at the sight of fear gripping her, he waited until she backed away to crouch behind the tattered armchair. Smiling weakly, he nodded and strode over to the shutters and whatever was beyond.

The owl screeched in alarm as it was shoved from the sill, and Lucius almost laughed out at the bedraggled thing in the hedge, fluffing out its drenched feathers. Recognising the bird as the one that had delivered the invite to that first meeting of the triumvirate working on Snape's behalf, he extended his arm towards the sulking owl.

On realising that the racket was not a continuation of the vituperation that had plagued them, Narcissa slipped out from behind her shield and stepped over to where Lucius stood, his face set in grim lines, and a letter held in his trembling fingers.

"What is it?" she asked softly. Nibbling her lip, she stepped closer, her hands almost reaching out towards the paper. "Is it from Draco?"

"It's from Meadowes," he replied gently. "He wants to see me in the morning; he claims that his precautions were not as supernumerary as he thought."

She nodded slowly and wiped a painfully thin hand across her brow. He studied her for a moment, and a selfish urge stirred at the sight of her eyes still glistening and her cheeks flushed from her fright... So reminiscent of their courting when the gamine wonder would steal his breath with one glance or quirk of her lips.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he folded the letter while stepping over to the meagre fire, and threw it into the hungry flames. He watched the cream parchment blacken and curl as the fire licked at it before devouring it in one bright bite.

The slightest pressure on his shoulder shattered his control, and he spun round to gather her up in his arms, pressing his face against her neck and inhaling her scent...not the fine perfumes that he had bought almost without thought, but her aroma, and he savoured it. He heard her gasp and felt her arms slide up his back so that her fingers could graze his scalp, and he shuddered. The slender body pressed against his, and he heard his name tumble from her lips.

Crushing her closer, he kissed her skin, amazed that she was in his arms after everything that he had done, after everything that she had suffered. Sobbing, he now understood why Draco begged to come back to this filthy hut no bigger than the entrance hall to Malfoy Manor...this was home!

August 2nd

1. quondam

2. pusillanimous

3. sesquipedalian

4. egress

5. panoply

6. sapient

7. brummagem

Hermione slid the silver hair band into her blonde hair and pushed Adira's portrait closed. The letter that had asked...no, insisted!...that she meet with Meadowes and Lucius was folded in her pocket, and she found herself fleetingly wondering about the quondam model pupil and how her life had become so complicated.

The sitting room was as she remembered, neat and cosy, but the fearful and desperate expression on the face of her sesquipedalian cohort made her pause fretfully on the threshold. Upon seeing her, Meadowes smiled out of courtesy before rushing over to shut the door and usher her into one of the three armchairs.

Brimming with curiosity and tension, her eyes darted from him to the man sitting in the chair adjacent to hers. Sapphire eyes locked onto her gaze, and she shivered at the desperation and longing that she saw in those azure depths. The mouth that had formed such vile things trembled, and she felt herself suddenly rendered pusillanimous by the hovering dread in the room.

"Mr Malfoy says that you're behind in your Occlumency studies, Miss Granger," the elderly man said carefully and tonelessly, and Hermione had the distinct impression that he was battling either anger or fear.

Partly fearful and partly annoyed, she glanced between the two men. "I'm struggling with it, but I know that I can learn how to do it."

She saw Meadowes' white eyebrow arch challengingly or cynically...she couldn't decide...and then, he was leaning down towards her, his own eyes blazing with some inner zeal that worried her.

"Can you learn by this afternoon?" he asked with surprising cheerfulness. "Only, I think that if we want to help Snape, then we'll have to do somethin' about in the very near future."

Hermione spluttered and mouthed silently while her suddenly tumultuous mind sought out what it wanted to convey first...she was in no way ready to help Snape. There were various items still to acquire; a Pensieve, a potion that required a week to make and a further week to mature, and most importantly, a plan of attack once she had access to Snape's thoughts and memories. The sudden time constraint was daunting.

"I..." she began timorously only to stutter to a halt...could she? Could she master the skill that seemed to be her Achilles heel?

Meadowes noted her downcast expression, and his attention turned to Lucius, who seemed equally apprehensive about the girls' ability to learn so quickly. Licking his wrinkled lips, he straightened and rubbed his chin thoughtfully... Maybe Occlumency was a moot defence anyway? He had no idea how Bellatrix was moving her mind or, more disturbingly, where it was, and although he was fairly sure that his own mind had not been invaded, he couldn't say that his own skill at Occlumency had protected him. But it seemed so prudent that the girl learn!

"The harsher the assault," Meadowes continued softly, "the quicker the skill is learnt... in general."

Witch and wizard looked at him; both anxious and both looking for an alternative. Hermione had heard Harry protest the horror and pain of his lessons with Snape, and given that it was her mind that would be attacked, her fears and weaknesses exposed, she felt that this could be the thing that turned her from her task...there were things haunting her that she had never divulged to either Harry or Ron; to anyone. Nightmares tormented her during sleep, and dark thoughts harassed her through the day...she did not want them summoned and studied; not by Lucius, and not by herself.

The old man had told him of what he suspected, and the thought had turned his insides to ice: Bella free to move around as she pleased; latching onto some brain like a hideous parasite. The thought had revolted and terrified him. But neither did he want to rape the young girl's memories just on the off-chance that she would learn Occlumency through sheer mental survival.

"We can give Miss Granger time," Lucius said firmly. "From what we have discussed, some time will be needed to prepare. I'm sure that the need for Occlumency is not that drastic at this stage of our plan."

"Brummagem concern, Mr Malfoy?"

Lucius glanced away, and then, he restored his gaze, and Meadowes saw a flinty hardness in the blue depths: eyes like chips of ice.

"We have no assurances that Occlumency is needed; I suggest that it would be more productive to begin preparing for the procedure involved in Severus' recovery."

Meadowes felt his eyes widen, and his breath lodged in his throat. Didn't he understand what was goin' on? The worst Death Eater of them all was at large... able to slip in and out of minds without a care! We'd never know where she was or what she was up to!

But there was some logic to the man's argument. Meadowes relaxed and sighed, letting the tension drop a notch. A mental panoply could not guarantee their safety...much to his consternation...and pushing for something that may only be helpful was almost counter-productive. The more sapient option was to cure Snape, and with his help and knowledge, they would all stand a better chance at stopping and destroying Bellatrix.

~X~

They discussed what was needed, and Lucius smirked at the idea that his role was nothing more than a delivery boy...collecting and delivering items, but, in truth, it was all that he could do, and so long as he was careful, it would not jeopardise his freedom.

Hermione would brew the potion detailed in the book and research around the required technique to weed out any potential problems, and continue Occlumency with Lucius in what was left of her spare time.

As they sought egress from the room, Meadowes caught Lucius glancing at him warily, and he wondered what lurked behind those blue eyes... feeling only the merest flicker of fear that it could be Bellatrix.

August 9th

1. obeisance

2. vituperate

3. spoony

4. asperity

5. vexillology

6. tittle-tattle

7. exalt

"You know very well why I can't make use of the more respectable premises," the silky voice drawled out in the gloom. "The tittle-tattle about my purchases would reach the ears of the Ministry, and I can hardly afford that."

"No, I can understand that, like, but I hears that ye ain't got much to afford owt as it is," said the seller with asperity. "So, I'm wonderin', like, what ye got to make me sell to ye, either!" The thin man with pock-marked skin grinned, exposing his blackened teeth to his potential customer.

Lucius reared back and shuddered at the offensive maw, lifting a hand daintily, seemingly to waft away the unpleasant odour that he imagined must have emanated from such a mouth. A rebuke rose to his lips, but he reined-in his desire to vituperate the vile vendor, and instead, he feigned intense disappointment.

"How quick we are to forget that money is not the only thing that holds value, but whereas that currency holds the same value to all, there are some gems which have a varying value depending on whom you offer them to."

The grin that greeted the purveyor was commonly seen in the sea, usually just after the flick of a fin, and the seller's own smile died as dread settled in his guts. He had dealt with the Malfoy family before, but then, he had some protection in the idea that they would not wish to be associated with the likes of him, but now, they had nothing to lose by admitting more of their follies, whereas he could lose a hell of a lot...his freedom for a start.

Swallowing nervously, the seller broke eye-contact and shifted the wares on the tray before him; Lucius smirked and threw a leather pouch next to the man's yellowed fingers.

"I assure you that there is enough there to cover the first six items on the list," he said in clipped tones. "Deliver all that I require before the end of the week, and I shall give you what I owe."

Showing his obeisance in the presence of money and blackmail, the seller bobbed on the spot and smiled obsequiously while his hand smoothly swept the pouch into the recesses of his voluminous and tatty coat.

"'T'would be me pleasure, Mr Malfoy, but I'm wonderin' why ye would be wantin' so much vellum and pigs' blood?"

Lucius paused as he strode away, a grin tugging at his twitching lips. Turning to glance over his shoulder, he sighed nonchalantly.

"An interest in vexillology."

~X~

The Room of Requirement shifted from the room that led to Hogsmeade as soon as Lucius stepped through the gaping hole; barely had the exhausted wizard said 'good evening' before a roaring fire warmed him, a soft armchair cocooned him, and the light dimmed to a cosy level. The walls enveloped them, comforting them with row upon row of books, and a low table supported a tempting array of snacks and a steaming pot of coffee. He could not exalt the Room enough.

Hermione settled into her own plush chair, and nervously tapped a fingernail against her chin. Occlumency had not been going well, and Meadowes' odd behaviour had upped her anxiety to an almost unbearable level. It did not comfort her that her initial plan was one step closer to completion; in truth, the closer she got to it, the more reluctant she became.

"I find that I am in no mood for teaching this evening, Miss Granger."

She jolted at his voice and frowned. "Then why come, Mr Malfoy?"

Although his tone had been lazy and the way he moved to look at her had been languid, they had misled. The eyes that bored into her were determined and undeniable; even if she had mastered Occlumency, she doubted that she could have stopped him if he had pierced her mind. The intensity of that stare stopped her breath.

"Occlumency will not help you in this endeavour, Miss Granger. The book implies that you must open yourself up to Severus completely; let him enter your thoughts without hindrance...essentially, to become one combined entity." As he spoke, urgently and softly, he saw her face whiten and her eyes widen with terror. He felt his heart clench painfully at the sight...if she feared it, then she would fail, and all his plans would fall with her.

He had to look! He had to see what hulking thing threatened all of it!

Slipping into her mind was as easy as slipping under silk sheets, and he wound his way delicately through her thoughts. It did not take long for an image to solidify before his questing mind.

She was roughly the same age, but thinner and ashen-faced; he'd hazard that this memory was from the time she was hiding from the Dark Lord with Potter and Weasley. She sat amongst the roots of a large oak tree, curled up and crying, her hands gripping and tugging on her hair. His view altered, and he saw thin rivulets of dried blood on the backs of her hands and something glittering around her neck. Shifting again, he caught sight of a locket, and he hissed out when he recognised it...a Horcrux.

Licking his lips, he had some idea of what that thing was doing to her mind as she wore it so daintily about her throat. Some evidence of it was noted in her distress and the keening sounds worming themselves out past her lips. Listening to her, he caught the odd phrase, whimper, plea and prayer... and then he knew.

Sighing softly and closing his eyes, he pondered the feelings she had for her Potions master that he had gleaned from her confused brain: no spoony schoolgirl crush as he had half-expected to find, but a dread! She dreaded Severus Snape, yet strove to cure him. Exhausted by the complexity of it all, he asked the heavens what it all meant.