Wormtail shifted nervously in his seat. He tried in vain to focus on what the Dark Lord was saying, but was distracted by the penetrating gazes coming from the most unlikely person.

At first, he had thought he was imagining things. He stole several glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but could not tell if she was looking at him or the young, handsome recruit beside him. It had to be the other man; why would Bellatrix spend an entire meeting looking at Wormtail? But as the meeting wore on, she became much more brazen; she was now staring openly at him with a seductive smirk on her face. He could hardly figure out why and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. At last, as the meeting was coming to a close, he understood. She wants something.

Knowing how unbalanced and dangerous Bellatrix could be, Wormtail decided his best course of action would be to exit the meeting as fast as possible, before she could corner him. When the meeting finally ended, Wormtail stood up quickly and headed toward the door. It took far too long to make it to the front door of the immense Muggle mansion; as he reached for the doorknob, icy cold, yet soft, fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Leaving so soon?” Bellatrix inquired, moving from behind him to lean against the door.

“Yes,” Wormtail said, trying to sound determined, yet coming off terrified.

“But I was looking forward to talking with you,” she replied, pouting slightly.

“What do you want, Bellatrix?” he asked in a shaky voice.

She traced the grooves of the door with a long finger. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maybe I was wrong. I’ll just go, then,” he said quickly, reaching for the doorknob again. He stopped dead at the glare he received from the witch.

“You can’t leave yet.” She had recovered quickly; the mask of sweetness had returned. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Wormtail’s heart began to pound in his ears. “F—For what?” he choked.

Bellatrix smiled. “I’m sure we’ll figure out something.”

She took his hand and led him up the large, winding staircase, pulled him into the first room, and closed and warded the door.

Wormtail looked around disappointedly. It was some sort of office, not a bedroom. What is she playing at?

“Now,” she said, approaching him slowly, “that’s better.”

Wormtail fidgeted and stared down at the floor. He was now certain she wanted something, but it was not him.

“You are a smart man,” Bellatrix began, taking a seat in a leather armchair. “You are loyal to the Dark Lord, as I am. Tell me, dear Peter, who is the one person that stands in the way of you getting everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Wormtail slowly lowered himself into an adjacent chair and exhaled. “What do you mean?”

Bellatrix sighed impatiently. “Who is the Dark Lord’s favorite?”

Wormtail paused. “You?”

She smiled. “Save the flattery. You know who I am talking about. Who claims to be on the Dark Lord’s side, yet spills secrets to the old fool, Dumbledore? Who is the traitor that the Dark Lord cannot recognize? Who is the one he trusts?”

“Snape.” Wormtail shuddered.

Next to the Dark Lord, Wormtail feared Snape the most. Every day he had spent with him at Spinner’s End was terrifying. Wormtail knew Snape had done something to him while he was there, but he could not seem to remember what. Every time he tried, he was hit with a blinding pain in his head. He soon found it was better to forget.

“Yes, Snape. He is the only one that stands in our way,” Bellatrix continued. “Do you not think he deserves to be punished for his deceit, his treachery?”

Wormtail twisted his hands nervously. “Bellatrix, if the Dark Lord found out we were plotting behind his back…”

“He won’t find out,” she assured him.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but I can’t do it,” he whined. “The Dark Lord will kill me!”

Bellatrix gave him a calculating glare. “Snape deserves to suffer for what he’s done to the Dark Lord and for what he’s done to my sister.”

Wormtail looked up, puzzled. “What’s he done to Narcissa?”

“You really are dull, aren’t you? Have you forgotten the ridiculous Unbreakable Vow she made with Snape? Did the rat miss the part afterward where he threatened her and hurt her?” Bellatrix jumped up, her fists clenched by her sides. “He needs to pay.”

Wormtail sat there, contemplating what Bellatrix had said. He didn’t remember. He didn’t remember any of it. Then he began to understand why.

“He put a Memory Charm on me,” Wormtail muttered softly.

“What?” Bellatrix snapped.

“When I was at Spinner’s End with him, he put a Memory Charm on me. That’s why I don’t remember those things.”

“There!” she said triumphantly. “Not only has he stolen your place at the Dark Lord’s side, he has deprived you of your memories!”

“Yeah…”

Bellatrix knelt down in front of him and took his shoulders in her hands. “Who was the one that brought the Dark Lord back? Who was the one that went looking for him, that restored him to his body?”

“Me,” he mumbled.

“Yes! You!” Bellatrix exclaimed. “You even gave a piece of yourself for the Dark Lord.” She ran her fingers over his silver hand.

Wormtail nodded.

“And where was Snape? He was safe at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore’s protection. And yet Snape, not you, is the Dark Lord’s favorite. Hardly seems fair, does it, dear Peter?” she cooed.

“No, it’s not fair.”

Bellatrix smiled. “So, will you help me? Will you make Snape pay?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, we can hardly just attack Snape. He is well protected, both here and at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord keeps him close by his side, as does Dumbledore. But his darling bride, on the other hand…”

“You want to attack Snape’s wife?” Wormtail asked, dumfounded. Surely Bellatrix wasn’t that foolish.

“Not exactly,” she said with a sly smile. “I’ve been following Mrs. Snape for over a week now. And yesterday she went somewhere quite unexpected.”

She looked up at Wormtail. He sighed and played along. “Where did she go?”

“To visit Snape’s mother,” Bellatrix continued. “His wife was quite distraught; she seemed frightened and I even saw her break down and sob like the weak, pathetic woman she is. What I want to know, Wormtail, is why she was there.”

“How am I supposed to find that out?” he whined.

“I heard her tell Snape’s mother she would be returning soon. Watch the house, then when Snape’s wife returns, go inside and listen.”

“How can I get inside if you couldn’t?”

Bellatrix stood and folded her arms over her chest. Glaring down at Wormtail she said, “In your Animagus form, you idiot!”

“How is going to listen to two witches talk going to make Snape suffer?”

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to figure it out, Wormtail,” Bellatrix hissed. “Leave the planning to me. Just find out what his wife wants with his mother.”

Wormtail sighed. “Fine. Give me the address,” he said wearily.

After telling Wormtail the exact location, she turned toward the door. “I’ll be waiting for you. And don’t come back until you can give me what I want.” She removed the wards on the door and exited slowly, throwing Wormtail a wicked smirk over her shoulder.

Wormtail collapsed against the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling, feeling as if he had just made a deal with the devil.

---

“We’re here,” Narcissa announced flatly. She pulled her hood over her face and looked around nervously.

Camilla almost laughed. The street was deserted. Narcissa was suffering from extremely painful boils, yet she seemed much more concerned about being seen.

Camilla gazed up at the house at which Narcissa had pointed. It was small and quite run down. It looked as if it hadn’t been inhabited in years. “He’s here?” she asked Narcissa skeptically.

“He was last night,” Narcissa answered edgily. “Shall we go in or do you plan to stay out here all night?”

“You first,” Camilla said, prodding Narcissa with her wand.

Narcissa paused for a moment and then rapped lightly on the door. Camilla felt her heart skip a beat with anticipation. She was desperate to see him, to know if he was all right. She wanted nothing more than to hold him; her body ached just to be near him again.

“Knock again,” Camilla snapped, growing impatient.

Narcissa turned to glare at Camilla and then knocked again. “He’s not here,” she said, facing Camilla and crossing her arms.

“Move,” Camilla commanded. She pointed her wand at the door and discovered, with a sinking feeling, that Severus had set the same wards on the door that he had used on their rooms at Hogwarts. Her hand shaking, she lifted the wards and opened the door.

She motioned for Narcissa to step inside and followed behind her. The moment she walked through the door, she knew that he wasn’t there. However, the house, though neglected at best, still bore witness to his presence. A Potions book lay open on the sofa; a half-finished glass of wine lay on an old, unsteady table. Camilla went to the bookcases and ran her finger over the rows and rows of books. Just like home, she mused.

Narcissa tapped her foot impatiently, her delicate nose wrinkled, as if she could hardly stand to be in such a place. “Well, I led you here. Now remove the curse.”

Camilla turned around slowly. Ignoring Narcissa’s words, she asked, “What is this place?”

Narcissa smirked. “You mean you don’t know?”

Camilla glared at her and shook her head.

“This,” Narcissa said triumphantly, waving her arms, “is dear Severus’ childhood home. Quaint, isn’t it? Interesting that he never brought you here. I’ve been here quite often.”

A stab of pain shot through Camilla. Why hadn’t he told her about this place? She looked down at the sofa and back up at Narcissa’s smug face. How many times had he brought Narcissa here? Was this where they came to be together?

“Where is he?” Camilla demanded, advancing on Narcissa with her wand raised.

“I don’t know,” Narcissa said, her eyes wide. “He was here last night. He must have found another hiding place.”

“Where’s Draco?” Camilla pointed her wand between Narcissa’s eyes.

Narcissa smiled. “I’ll die before I lead you to my son. Draco’s safe. I made sure of that.”

Camilla lowered her wand slowly. She studied Narcissa’s face for a moment. She was telling the truth; she had no idea where Severus was. Camilla sunk down into a worn armchair and said flatly, “You can go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you take this horrible curse off me!” Narcissa cried, her hands flying up to her face.

Camilla’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take the curse off when you tell me where my husband is.”

“I told you I don’t know where he is!” Narcissa shouted. “Take the curse off now!”

“Find Severus and I’ll be happy to.” Camilla raised her wand. “Now, I think you should go. Unless you would like to see what else I can do with a wand. I do know a wonderful little hex that will make all your lovely hair fall out.”

Narcissa shot Camilla a venomous look and then stormed toward the door. She threw it open roughly and slammed it behind her, causing a dusty painting to crash to the ground.

Camilla exhaled slowly and rested her head back against the chair. There was so much she didn’t know. Why had he kept this place a secret? Was he afraid of what she would think of it? Did he not want her to know about it so he could bring his mistress here? She swallowed painfully at that thought.

“Why do I love you, Severus?” she wondered bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. “You don’t deserve it.” She reached over and picked up the Potions book and ran her finger over the spine listlessly.

“You know,” she said, addressing the room as if Severus were there, “I wish I could just forget you. I have a man back home who cares about me. He would never do the things you have done. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

But you don’t love him, a voice inside reminded her.

“I could learn to love him,” Camilla argued. “He’s a good man. Better than you could ever hope to be, Severus,” she spat, tears beginning to sting her eyes. “I hate you, Severus! I hate you!” She hurled the book across the room. It hid the wall with a thud, spilling its contents on the floor.

Camilla rose. Lying next to the book were several sheets of parchment and what looked like a photograph. Sinking to her knees, she picked up the photograph and turned it over. Her hand flew up to her mouth when she saw her own face smiling back at her. She stared at it in amazement. Why had he kept a picture of her?

Her eyes fell on the folded sheets of parchment lying beside the book. She unfolded one, and as she began to read, tears spilled down her cheeks. They were all letters from her, letters she had written before they were married, when she lived in London and he at Hogwarts.

She sat there for a long time, clutching the letters in one hand, while staring down at the photograph. She wondered what it meant. Until now, she had thought he hated her. Was it all an act? Why had he kept these things all this time? She couldn’t allow herself to believe he still loved her. If it wasn’t true…

She shook her head slightly. I can’t think like this. It probably doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. Scooping up the letters and the photograph, she stowed them in her robes. As she turned to leave, she took one last look at the sitting room.

“Be well, Severus, wherever you are.”

---

“Jon, open the door!” Camilla cried, banging her fists against the door for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

She knew he was there. She also knew that although it would be difficult to break through the wards on his door, it was not impossible. However, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t do that to him, though she was certainly tempted.

She grimaced as a large drop of rain landed on her nose. It was followed immediately by a torrential downpour. Camilla looked up to the dark and ominous sky and couldn’t stop herself from laughing. It was so typical of her luck.

“Jon, I am now standing here soaking wet and may catch pneumonia if you don’t open the door, because I’m not leaving!” she shouted at the door.

Silence.

Camilla sat down on the porch and lifted her face to the sky, letting the rain wash over her. It was oddly comforting in a way. The angry clouds seemed to sympathize with her, if no one else did. She shuddered as a clap of thunder pierced the sky and pulled her knees up to her chest.

Okay, this isn’t much fun any more, she thought as a bolt of lightning came straight down and seemed to almost touch the ground in the distance.

“I may die out here!” she called.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Camilla whipped around and jumped to her feet. There was Jon, dressed only in his pajama bottoms, wearing an irritated scowl.

“Come in, then,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

She smiled weakly and wrung the water out of her hair before stepping inside.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he mumbled, disappearing up the stairs.

Camilla shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She had forgotten how much she loved Jon’s house. It was so warm and inviting, in stark contrast to her mother’s house, where she had never felt welcome. The sitting room was filled with incredibly soft leather furniture that Camilla had always loved to sink into when she arrived. A fire was blazing merrily in the fireplace; a dozen candles were softly lit. Jon had apparently been making his way through a bottle of wine, as the bottle sat half-full on the table, not accompanied by a single glass.

“Here.” Jon shoved a towel at her before slumping into a leather armchair and taking a swig of wine.

“Thanks,” she said softly. She attempted to dry herself off as best as she could, but she was soaked to the bone.

“Would you mind if I took a shower, Jon?” she asked in a small voice.

He turned in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her. “Do what you want,” he muttered.

Camilla sighed deeply and made her way upstairs. After an extremely hot shower, she toweled herself dry and hung up her dripping wet clothes.

Damn. She came to the realization that she had nothing to wear now. Swallowing painfully, she grabbed Jon’s bathrobe and wrapped it around her. It was warm and soft and smelled of him. She knew he would be less than thrilled when he saw her in it, but she didn’t have much choice.

She finally made her way downstairs and sat down gingerly on the sofa, eyeing Jon carefully. He did not even look at her; he simply took another swig of wine and stared at the fire.

“Thanks, Jon. I feel much better now,” she said, attempting to sound cheerful.

“Well, that’s what’s important, isn’t it?” he said scathingly.

She bit her lip. “I know you’re upset with me—“

“What gave you that idea?” he snapped, finally turning to face her.

“Look,” she said heatedly, “I don’t understand why you’re so angry! I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Of course not,” he said bitterly.

“Help me understand, Jon,” she said angrily. “Help me understand why you’re treating me like this. What have I done to you?”

Jon turned back to the fire. “Forget it.”

“I can’t, Jon. I find out that my husband has been accused of murder, is on the run, and may even be dead for all I know, and for some reason you’re angry with me. What is your problem?”

He rose from his chair and glared down at her. “Get out.”

“What?” she demanded, taken aback.

“I said leave. Now.”

Camilla stood, her hands shaking in anger. She shoved them in the pockets of Jon’s robe and took a deep breath.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about?” She approached him slowly, looking up into his face.

He turned away and crossed his arms. “Just go, Camilla,” he said softly.

Reaching out and touching his arm gently, she said, “What is it, Jon?”

“Do you not know?” he asked quietly, turning to face her finally.

Oh, God. She knew; she just didn’t want to believe it. “Jon, I…”

He shook his head and placed his index finger over her lips. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. I know you still love him.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish—“

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Just don’t…”

Camilla gazed up into his tortured face and cursed herself. He deserved so much more than this. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. He made sense. It made sense that she would be with someone like him. He was everything she needed, everything she thought she wanted. But for some unknown reason, deep inside, she still wanted the irritable, angry, and impossible Severus. She would never stop loving him.

“I love you, Jon,” she said softly, brushing her fingers across his cheek. “I do. You are so important to me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nodded vaguely. “It’s late. I’d better get to bed,” he muttered distractedly.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll just go get my clothes.”

She whispered a charm to dry her robes and got dressed quickly. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she hung his robe back up, resisting the urge to smell it one last time. Blinking back tears, she returned to the sitting room.

“I’ll…I’ll see you later, Jon,” she said softly to his back; he was again planted in the armchair with his bottle of wine.

“Bye, Camilla,” came the strangled reply.

She pulled her robes around her and stepped outside. The rain had stopped and although the night air was warm and moist, Camilla shivered. And as she crept into her mother’s house and up to bed, the chill remained. She wondered if it would ever go away.

---

A/N: Sorry I've neglected to update. The story is finished and has been for some time so I may just post the rest of the chapters. I'm not sure yet. Thanks for reading and please leave a review! : )