The half term break couldn't have come quickly enough for the four of them. Tension in the castle was at an all time high and people were prone to panicky outbursts; several having to be sent to the hospital wing for a calming draught. It was visible in the teachers too. For the first time, the four of them could see how worn they looked; the pressure of the ongoing war and the duty to continue teaching was starting to show. It also didn't help that the Quidditch Cup, the exams and their summer ball were all going to be in the same half term. Kathryn was glad of the end of term as she would be able to catch up on revision; having spent a considerable amount of time training hard for the Quidditch final and helping to organise the ball.
She was relieved, then, at the arrival of an owl on their first morning back at Grimmauld Place. It was from France, informing her that the sale of her foster parents' house had been agreed and she was only needed to come and sign the papers. This would give her the chance to spend a day or two away without raising any suspicions. She packed her bag that morning and apparated straight to France, saying that she would be back in a day or two.
In truth, it took her all of thirty minutes to read and sign the papers and arrange the transfer of gold to her Gringotts vault. The large house had fetched a tidy sum, obviously being something that many people were after. The battle for it had been won, however, by a senior member of the French Ministry of Magic who was looking for somewhere to start a family. Once this was over, she wandered round Paris for a while; browsing in the shops and finding some choice items that she knew he would enjoy. She also picked up one of the best bottles of wine she could find and a selection of delicately crafted cakes from the best patisserie Paris had to offer.
She apparated back to Wiltshire, and the Malfoy Manor, just before two o'clock that afternoon. It was bright and sunny and she walked with purpose, not with the fear and trepidation she had previously done. Although she would be the last to admit it, she was becoming used to this life of luxury that she lived in secret; clandestinely slipping away to spend her time with one of the most dangerous yet handsome men in Wizarding Britain. She was welcomed at the door and he instantly pulled her into a passionate embrace with a promise of more. Teasingly, she broke away from his keen grip and motioned for him to wait where he was whilst she darted upstairs to change. She had been in Paris after all, and the shops were far too alluring to pass up.
She re-emerged some ten minutes later looking very much the alluring courtesan she definitely was not. Dressed in head to toe black she looked, in his eyes, spectacular. She could tell he was pleased, and slightly surprised, by the way his eyes widened as she descended gracefully down the large staircase. She was, basically, wearing a corset; although it looked anything but. Coloured a deep, absorbing black; it oozed sensuality as she walked; finishing on her hips where it seamlessly changed into well cut, lacy underwear of the same colour. Covering this was a delicate robe crafted out of translucent, wispy fabric; still in the same colour and with a pattern stitched on around the hem and cuffs. Being the same colour as the fabric of the corset, however, it only showed on her legs, shoulders and arms where it hung elegantly. A soft rustling followed her as she walked, her feet making no noise as she was barefoot.
She stopped a few steps before the end of the staircase, giving him the opportunity to admire her from where he stood. He looked her up and down with his arrogant, scrutinising eyes and smiled his satisfaction. In response to this she gave him a small twirl; the material of the gown fanning out around her slender legs.
"I take it you approve?" she asked as she descended the last few steps.
"Very much so." He agreed, smirking at the thought of what she could give him. He reached out his arm to her waist and pulled her into the curve of his body; burying his face in her neck and kissing its soft warm skin. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck; drawing his head back up so she could meet his lips with her own. They were just walking over to the drawing room, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, when they were both surprised by a sharp rap against the large wooden front doors.
"Go!" he whispered urgently in her ear as he straightened himself out and headed for the door. She, meanwhile, flew across the room on her tiptoes, towards the stairs; hoping that the person standing outside had not heard anything. She was not sure what made her do it, foolish curiosity she presumed, but she stopped near the top when she heard the door open.
"Ah Severus, do come in." She heard him say and her stomach gave a terrible lurch. Snape could only be here on a mission for the Order and that meant that she would be in a considerably more precarious position should Snape discover any trace of her presence. She resumed walking upstairs as she heard the door shut and two sets of footsteps began to make their way into the Entrance Hall.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, something caught Snape's eye. At the top of the stairs he saw the long slender leg of what appeared to be a fairly scantily clad woman disappearing round the corner at the top in a swish of jet black fabric.
"I do hope I'm not disturbing anything, you're not," he paused, searching for the right word, "entertaining, are you?" he finished, making sure that he did not sound accusing.
"Certainly not." He lied back, walking away to the drawing room with Snape; disappointed that he would not be spending time in this room with a certain young lady he much preferred to the greasy Potions Master. No matter, he decided; he would just have to make up for lost time later on. With a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he sat down to business with Snape.
Upstairs, Kathryn waited for over two hours in the master suite, unable to settle. She paced round and round the large room, deeply troubled by Snape's presence and worried if he had seen or heard anything. She slumped onto a chaise lounge then lay on the bed before returning to her pacing. At the sound of a door closing she hurried to the front windows. Venturing as close to the glass as she dared she peered out at the departing form of her teacher, looking his usual greasy, bat-like self. Not far up the long drive he turned and cast a final look at the grand manor house. Despite what he had said earlier, Snape did not believe for one moment that Lucius had no one concealed in the house. This suspicion was confirmed by his sighting of a face in one of the upstairs windows. Half in shadow, he could not tell who it was, and could only make out cascades of dark hair and the makings of a refined face. Dismissing it as none of his business, he continued up the drive and out of the gates.
Standing at the window, Kathryn's mind returned to the night of the third task of the Triwizard tournament and Voldemort's rebirth. Although she had been in France at the time, at the moment Harry hit the earth of the cold graveyard, she had passed out in the middle of dinner. She had been oblivious to all attempts to rouse her by her friends and teachers; instead experiencing everything Harry had in a bizarre dream-like state. She had bled as Wormtail had drawn the blood from Harry's arm, an identical gash appearing on her arm. She had felt the searing pain in her scar as Voldemort touched Harry. She had seen the Death Eaters' return, seen them jeer as Voldemort subjected Harry and herself, however unwittingly, to the Cruciatus curse. Her teachers had been sure that she was going to die as she thrashed about in pain. She had seen her parents as Harry and Voldemort locked wands, in short, she had seen everything until Harry had landed back in the Hogwarts grounds.
"Pathetic," she murmured to herself as she watched Snape leave, completely unaware that he had also entered the room, "grovelling on the floor to kiss the robes of such a poor excuse for a man." Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks as he heard her words.
"What?" he asked in a clipped tone, barely concealing the dangerous edge to his voice.
"I saw you."
"Saw me when?" he was now puzzled as to what she was talking about.
"I saw you four years ago, the night your wonderful Lord Voldemort returned." She did nothing to disguise the sardonic tone in her voice, keeping her stare fixed resolutely out of the window.
"Do not speak the Dark Lord's name." his voice was beginning to take on a more dangerous tone.
"Whilst you were getting your kicks out of watching him hurt Harry," she continued, oblivious to his building anger, "I was unconscious on the floor at school but I could see it all." She explained. "Twins are funny like that aren't they?"
"You saw everything?" he scarcely dared believe what she was saying.
"Oh yeah. Felt it too." She rubbed the spot on her arm where that gash had appeared. "Looked Voldemort in the eyes and everything. Everyone though I was going to die."
"Do not speak his name." He warned her again, his voice was growing louder; mirroring the building rage inside of him as he stalked closer to her. Had she been facing him, she would have seen the dangerous glint in his grey eyes. Instead she went on, forgetting whom she was with.
"Absolutely pathetic!" she declared. "Crawling across the floor like some animal to kiss the robes of the great Lord Voldemort." Her voice had a tone of complete mocking in it. "The great Lord Voldemort," she continued, "defeated by babies!" she laughed, spinning round to face the now seething Lucius Malfoy who was standing behind her. The brazen smile faded from her face when she saw his face. His eyes were a steely grey that divulged no emotion other than the anger she could plainly see. His lips were a hard line, his hands were clenched into fists and she could see that every muscle of his body was tense.
"DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!" he roared at her and, before she could move, she felt the weight of his right hand smash into her cheek with indescribable force as he backhanded her across the face. Her eye felt like it was going to explode in her skull as the force of the blow sent her crashing to the floor; jarring her wrists as she tried to break her fall. Her head span as she leaned against the wall for support, holding her hand to her throbbing cheek. She felt the fear and panic well inside of her as he advanced on her; towering over her and screaming at her.
"How dare you speak his name with your filthy half-blood tongue." He yelled; his face livid, advancing further on her until she was practically cowering in the corner of the room. "You are not worthy to say it." He spat, fixing her with a look of utter disdain; a complete reversal of the passionate gleam that had been there just hours ago. "You do not speak it!" he yelled again. She let a small whimper escape her lips as he raised his hand to strike her again.
Before he could deliver the blow, however, she saw the anger fade from his eyes and be replaced by realisation of what he had done. His arm fell back down to his side and there was silence although Kathryn was sure that he could hear her heart as it was thumping so hard inside her chest. They were both breathing heavily and, in this moment of stillness, each observed the person before them. For Kathryn, she had never seen him this angry and, quite frankly, it scared her. Looking down he saw someone who was a fraction of the woman he knew. Before him, huddled as far as she could into the corner, clutching at her face he saw the complete and abject fear in her eyes as she looked at him. He had not seen such fear since the night he had first had her. His angry exterior melted away and he realised, far too late, what he had done. He opened his mouth to speak but, seeing her chance, and with speed he could have never imagined, she bolted for the door and streaked down the stairs.
Crashing into the kitchen she was instantly surrounded by the house elves asking what she needed. She mumbled 'ice' through her hand that was covering her tender cheek. She felt a rusty taste in her mouth as they placed several handfuls of ice into a napkin and realised that the force of the blow must have split her lip. Taking the makeshift ice pack she strode as quickly as she could through the Entrance Hall and spacious drawing room to the back terrace where she had once enjoyed dinner.
Leaning against the stone balustrade she touched the ice gingerly to her cheek; gasping slightly as its frigid contents met the heat of her cheek. Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to keep it there despite the pain. For the first time since this all began she felt fear course like ice through her veins as she stood there and she knew that she could remain in this place no longer.
Upstairs, meanwhile, Lucius was still standing there. He couldn't begin to comprehend what he had done, what he had ruined and he felt completely disgusted with himself. He had never struck a woman before and he could not shake the image of Kathryn's face as she looked up at him. He could not remove the look of the terror in her eyes from his mind. He knew any repair had to be done fast if he was ever to see her again and he followed her downstairs; scouring the entire ground floor for her until he found her on the back terrace.
He saw her visibly tense as he appeared through the doors. He had not seen her react to him like that in a long while. Approaching slowly so as not to panic her, he reached out his hand to the soaked napkin that she was holding to her face. She jerked her hand away as soon as his fingertips brushed hers and left him to hold the ice. Removing it from the side of her face he first saw the watery red blood stain from her split lip. He thought that this was bad until he saw her cheek. His insides clenched as he saw the fast emerging purple bruise and, even worse, the mark in the middle of her cheek. Stepping closer he could see the vivid red imprint of a coiled snake; left by the heavy silver ring on his finger. He reached out his fingers to touch it but did not get close as she jumped about a foot away from him.
"Don't you dare touch me!" she said in a shallow, slightly panicked voice, clutching her hand to her cheek again. "Don't touch me." She repeated before sprinting past him back into the house. Running back upstairs she threw her things back into her bag and removed the lavish outfit that she had bought specially; pulling on her jeans and T-shirt. In the bathroom she hurriedly brushed on a layer of make up to disguise the bruise as best she could before arranging her hair so it carefully covered most of that side of her face. Her cut lip had ceased to bleed and she wiped away the traces of blood on her cheek with a wet flannel.
Grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder she exited the bathroom just as he walked through the door.
"Stay." He pleaded, completely unsettled by the utter dread that he could see in her eyes. In response she shook her head and then, before he could say anymore, she disappeared with a small pop. He was left alone in the silent room with only his thoughts to torture him about what he had done. There was noting left to remind him of her in the room save the garment that she had left in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor. Sitting down on the mattress he ran his hands over the soft material; remembering how she had felt in his arms. He caught a hint of her scent that still clung to the fabric and, overwhelmed by desolation, he buried his head in his hands; hoping desperately that he had not lost her forever.