NOTE! There has been a little confusion with my offline readers conncerning Ron and I want to clarify everything now before you get confused! Ron is not dead! Hermione is the only one the Professors told! Hermione told Harry, Ginny, and Seamus! No one else knows that Ron is alive! Got it? You can review me questions if you have 'em! Hope you like the chapter, thanks for your patience through all of my mindless banter! Please Review! I love you all!

Her feet dangled carelessly from the arm of the chair she lay in. Her whole body sunk into the armchair protectively, but she knew that nothing would save her from her Masters wrath if she failed him. Fail him. Those were words she dreaded to contemplate, but with Draco Malfoy’s continued interference in her mission and in her life she began to fear something might go wrong.

The fire in front of her chair continued to crackle warmly in the room. She was getting anxious. She didn’t doubt the Dark Lords’ abilities or his safety, but he had never been late to meet her. And he should have been here fifteen minutes ago.

But she knew not to worry. He was probably dealing with a wayward follower, there were so many of them now a days. But that fact didn’t mean much to her. As long as the Master had her he was unstoppable.

The fire changed from a brilliant orange to a sickening green. The Master was arriving. She rose from her chair and stood erect as the tall hooded figure stepped from the short fireplace. She had made it clear to herself that she would offer no hint of her earlier activities with Draco Malfoy, her master would have to dig very deep if he wished to uncover that information. And he had no reason to dig into her mind or heart.

Her master looked at her and smiled, making his dark sharp teeth clearly visible. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

“My dear,” he said, his cold voice no less chilling than ever it was, “It seems as if you have missed me."

“Master,” she said. She had the right to call him by his name, Voldemort. She had gained the right through her activities and abilities. She had also been born with the right to call him by his name. But, she wished to think of him as her Master, at least until the day when she would prove herself, once and for all. She would prove that her special care was not because of her heritage, it was because she was the best. That would be the day that Harry Potter was gone.

“Master,” she continued, “I request that you relieve Draco Malfoy of his duty to serve me.”

“Why is that child,” the Dark Lord asked as he placed his arm lovingly on her shoulder. “Why would you wish such a thing? I ordered him to assist you; I thought he may be of help. Did I make a wrong call, a wrong choice or decision?”

“Oh, no Master!” she cried jumping from her chair and kneeling on the floor in front of him. “I was wrong to say those things. I should never have doubted you or your methods.”

“Get up!” he said, laughing. “Why do you constantly kneel before me? You are the most honored and respected of all my Death Eaters, you have no need to kneel. Hell, many others, including that insufferable Lucius Malfoy, don’t even kneel befor me- the insolent bastards!”

She stood up laughing. He may be the most evil thing in the world, but he always made her laugh. Maybe it was because she was no less evil than he was.

“I still do not understand your argument against the Malfoy boy?” he continued.

“Master!” she screamed at the tall figure standing before her. “He killed that miserable Weasley boy! I wasn’t done with him; I could have used him still.”

“No!” the Dark Lord answered. “You are upset because you did not get to kill him.” She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Lord. “Don’t speak! You forget that I am more skilled in Legilimens than you are, don’t forget who taught you! Your knowledge of Occlumency doesn’t save you either, because I know you better and more personally than anyone ever could.”

She bowed her head. Of course he was right, he was always right. But Draco still infuriated her. He had had no right to kill Weasley, or to seduce her. He just did it because he felt like it. His father’s money and power did that to him; it made the boy think he was all powerful and unstoppable.

“I agree,” the Dark Lord said. “The boy has always been far too headstrong to be of any use to anyone. Honestly, I assigned him to help you in the hope that you would kick him into shape, bring him to his knees, show him who’s in charge.”

She nodded her head. “I shall.”

“It seems to me like you already have.” He said looking at her. She blushed and looked down at the carpet. “Don’t feel ashamed,” he told her. “Many a worthy woman and witch has fallen to the looks and charms of both Draco Malfoy and his father Lucius. In fact, a part of me suspected you might fall into bed with him. Since you gave into him several times I would imagine that his abilities were not just a rumor.”

She turned very red and continued looking at the floor. She had never been more embarrassed in front of her Master before. She felt terrible.

“But in the end,” he continued, drawing her chin up so that he could look at her while he spoke, “you kicked his proud ass out the door. Something that no other woman has ever done. I guarantee you, that is probably the biggest blow to Malfoy’s pride he has ever experienced.”

She smiled up at him, the red glow of her cheeks fading away because of his words. “My personal anger at him for seducing me aside,” she said, “I still think he was wrong to kill Weasley.”

“Perhaps he was. Only time will tell my dear. And I don’t believe that Weasley’s premature murder will do anything to hinder tomorrow’s activities, or draw unneeded suspicion towards either of you.”

“Yes Master,” she said.

“And don’t forget that you have your share of unworthy killings under your belt. As much as I love death and mayhem, especially underneath the nose of that insufferable Dumbledore, why did you kill Padma Patil?”

“She was getting suspicious of my activities,” she answered. “I felt it imperative to take care of the problem before she alerted a teacher, Dumbledore, or her sister. I promise you that no one has the slightest inkling that I was involved in her death. Everyone is sure that it was a suicide.”

“You are undoubtedly the cleverest of my students. Using the Imperius curse to kill someone and make it look like a suicide, pure brilliance. Something I could only expect from someone with my blood running through their veins.” He grinned at her. Even though his eyes were red slits, his face was deformed, and his mouth was full of filthy razor sharp teeth, she couldn’t help but love him.

He had rescued her. He had taught her. He had loved her. Her master, her father, and she, his heir. The only thing she knew in her mind was that no matter what happened, Harry Potter would die. Then she and her Master would rule together, side by side. It would be a wonderfully evil and cruel existence for many, and she would love every second of it.

“A quick question,” he said.

“Yes Master!”

“Marietta Edgecombe- what is your purpose with her?”

“I have been using her as a tool, to spy on Potter and his friends. I have also used her as a distraction towards the teachers. With mounting suspicion on her everyone will be less likely to look for other suspects- namely me.”

“She has come to a great use than I imagine?” he asked. She nodded her head. “Good. However, I think it is time we begin to relieve ourselves of unnecessary baggage, if you get my meaning. At this point, with the plan so close to fulfillment, she is more a danger than an asset. If she happens to remember something or if someone manages to retrieve her memories, it could be dangerous to our health,” he smiled at her. “Take care of the problem.”

“I will Master, tomorrow- before I carry out my duties for you.”

“Excellent! But now I must go,” he said suddenly. “The night is getting late, I have things to do, and you need to get to bed. It would be a terrible misfortune if that Filch fellow found you wandering around this late.”

“Okay.” She watched as the only parent she had ever had walked back into the flames and disappeared. Every time she saw him go she felt alone again. Alone like she had been before he ever came into her life. Her life, that was something she hadn’t thought about in a long time...

FIFTY YEARS AGO:

Tom Riddle was the hunk of the school, not that that was hard to tell. He was smart and handsome, everything a girl could ever want. Especially Verrah. She had had her eye on Tom since the first day of school in first year. Every year she wanted to walk up to him and tell her how she felt, but she never did. She was too shy.

Besides, Tom was probably out of her league anyway. Him, the hero of the school. He was always surrounded by friends and girls, god, he could have any girl he wanted. Why would he choose her? A silent and shy girl, a little too chubby than most boys would like, and the most annoying twin in the world.

Myrtle. Why did she have to be the one cursed with that girl as a twin, just the thought of people knowing they were related doomed Verrah to loneliness? Besides, why would Tom Riddle want anything to do with a Ravenclaw, he had all those sneaky and sleazy Slytherin girls to play with.

And play he did. Tom was a real player; he never had a steady girlfriend, just a group of girls. If one of them was lucky, then she’d get to screw him. If she wasn’t lucky, at least she could lie to her friends about it, they would never know the difference.

Boy, how she longed to be one of those girls. To be a “groupie”. To be a sex toy, a plaything. To be Tom’s. But she knew she never had a chance, until the day when their eyes met.

Verrah knew, or rather she had heard rumors, that Tom and his friends were looking at books from the Restricted Section of the library. They were playing with Dark spells and jinxes, and some of them were aspiring to be Dark wizards. It all seemed so exciting to Verrah. The girl who had never broken a school rule, who always did her homework and respected everyone. She longed, just once, to be the one breaking the rules. She wanted to be reading those books and studying those spells. She thought of all the people she would jinx, all the people who had ever been mean to her. Starting with Myrtle. The only one Myrtle could ever pick on was her.

One day, in Transfiguration, Verrah was staring at the back of Tom’s head, thinking about all the things she wished she could do with him and learn with him. While she was thinking this, Tom’s head moved, as if he were listening to something. Then he turned around and looked at her.

His eyes bore into hers, they sank to the lowest depths of her mind and heart, they examined every wish and thought, every hope and dream. Then she heard a laugh, inside her head, Tom’s laugh. He smiled at her, at her! Tom Riddle had just smiled at her! She smiled back.

After class, she was stopped by Tom. He pulled her into an empty classroom and sat on a desk, just staring at her.

“You like me don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Who doesn’t?”

“You got a point there.” They both laughed. Verrah had never imagined that he would be this friendly. “What if I told you, I liked you too?”

Verrah held her breath, she was scared to answer. No, she didn’t know what to answer. “Why would you like me?” was all she could think to ask.

“I think you could help me,” he said. “When I look at you, I see strength, bravery, and slyness. And though your a goody-goody, you’ve never even broken a rule, you still think about wrong things. Things I could show you, help you to learn, help you do. I want to turn you into what you want to be.”

“How could you do that?” she asked.

“Well, for starter: who is the one person you hate more than anything?”

The answer had been very simple for Verrah- Myrtle.

Myrtle was dead the next day. Verrah had never suspected that Tom was behind all the recent student attacks, but now she knew. She knew it was Tom who had killed Myrtle; she knew he had done it because Verrah had chosen her. And she had never been happier in her life.

That night, she got to sit in with Tom and his friends while they researched the Dark Arts. He showed her a really neat trick he could do with his name. If you rearranged the letters they spelled out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! That was their nickname for him, Lord Voldemort. But only a select few could call him that, others had to refer to him as just Lord.

His name was sacred, it meant a lot to them, he meant a lot to them. Every time they met, Verrah realized more and more what was really going on, what they were talking about and what they were planning. She loved every second of it; she wanted to be a part of it. And she was, Verrah became the most important person in the group that followed Voldemort, the group that was referred to as The Death Eaters.

It had been Verrah’s idea to call them that, she had gotten it from an ancient Dark curse, in which a powerful sorcerer could suck the very life out of people at will. Then, he would absorb their spirit, prohibiting them from ever experiencing any afterlife. The priests who performed the executions were known as Death Eaters.

But Verrah wasn’t just a Death Eater, she was so much more. Tom had told her all about his plans. He wanted to take over the world, and get rid of all muggleborns. He spoke about Slytherin and his ideals; he told her how he had been the heir. He told her all about the Basilisk and how he had attacked people and killed her sister. But more than that, he told Verrah he had chosen her for the most important part- to be his, to bare his heir.

When Tom had told her they were alone in his room. She hadn’t been scared or grossed out by his words, she had simply given in. Inside of her, she knew it was her destiny; she wanted it more than anything else. All Verrah thought about as Tom made love to her was how she had yearned for this for so long.

His lips burned her face and his fingers sent chills of pleasure up and down her body. But the most incredible thing was them, together, joined as one. It wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just making love. It was a connection, as connection more personal than anyone could ever have imagined. It was probably more like a secret pact, an agreement. When their bodies came to together like that, just as they did so many times throughout the rest of their school years, it was a realization of how much she meant to him and his plans.

She was imperative to his plan. Her child was imperative to his plan. Though her child would not be born for many, many years; they continued to have sex. They had too, it was a continued pledge and promise that they would not leave each other. Verrah knew, she was just as important to Tom and his plans as he was to her.

Because of that, Verrah had wasted no time in planning the initiation of her new daughter to the darkness. When she was a week old, Verrah would promis her to Tom. To this day, their remained only one other person that had been made a Death Eater as a child, that was Amanda Drowry.

Amanda had been older than her daughter. In fact, Verrah had been upset by Tom’s allowing her to be initiated at such an early age. Verrah wanted that right for her daughter and her daughter only. But Tom had seen greatness in the child, a power beyond what he saw in most adults, and he had allowed her parents to promise her to them.

In the beginning it was always them, Tom and Verrah. They were a pair, together till the end. Voldemort without his queen was an impossible thing for most of them to even contemplate. That was until the day their daughter was born.

She had been a beauty from the beginning, and undoubtedly powerful. But as soon as she was born, Verrah became afraid. For some reason, Verrah did not want her baby to be a killer like she had become, she wanted her to live a normal life, not a life of darkness. So Verrah had run away with her and Tom’s daughter.

Everything seemed to be going so well, until her daughters’ first birthday. It was than that Tom arrived.

PRESENT:

A tear fell down her cheek. That was the story her father had told her. That was the story the Dark Lord had told her. She knew the rest of it by heart.

On her first birthday he had kidnapped her. He took her to his home, where he had showed her all the things he could give to her and teach her. She had understood, somehow. At such an early age, she had been so smart, so clever. It had scared her mother slightly. The Dark Lord had told her that all she needed to do to be there with him forever was to kill her mother.

That night, before she was returned to her crib, she was made a Death Eater. In her dreams, she was taught the Dark Arts, the spells and jinxes, the potions and charms, and her favorite- the Unforgivables.

Not long after her initiation her Master had attacked the Potter family, his attack on the baby had nearly killed him. She had felt it, it had woken her from her sleep. She had cried for hours, not knowing whether he lived or died. But he had managed to contact her, and at the age of two, under her Master’s orders, she had killed her mother.

Thinking it was an attack from Death Eaters out for revenge, she had been immediately placed in a foster home, but the whole time she kept in close contact with her Master through her dreams. He had been in bad shape, he could have died, several times he almost did. Every night, she would transfer a part of her own power from her mind to his, trying to help him. She did this every night until the night when he returned to the full height of his power, which was not too long ago.

She stood up from the chair and left the Room of Requirement, where she always met her Master. She had to get to sleep. No one had ever suspected her of killing her mother, they had all imagined it simply another Death Eater attack. No one had ever suspected her of being what she truly was, except maybe that dreadful Amanda Drowry.

But one day it would all change. One day everyone would know her and who she was. One day, everyone would cower in fear at the sound of her name, just as they did for her Master. That day was tomorrow.