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Disclaimer.
J.K Rowling went out one day so I took her characters out to play.
We ran around, they laughed with glee,
All this fun and she works for free!



Two parties as different as night and day. Please R&R.

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Time became illusive for Phaelan, as she studied magic as a science. After breakfast, she would go to the library to pick up another tome for what ever facet she was studying. Polly, the elf, would arrive to tell her to come for lunch, upon the instruction of Madam Pomfrey. In the afternoon, she would sit with a professor and discuss what she had read. To the discomfiture of the veterans, Phaelan's inquiries often raised questions in their own minds. What had been held as canon in magical study's, was now subject to conjecture.

The only teacher, who seemed immune to self doubt, was Snape. He still addressed Phaelan's questions in self assured pronouncements, rather than carefully couched comments.

"I'll say this for her, "declared Flitwick of Phaelan one afternoon, "she makes you think. I don't always like what she makes me think, but the exercise is good for my brain...I think." He poured himself a cup of afternoon tea and sat in the staff room with Minerva and Snape.

"What was the debate about today, Filius?" wondered Minerva.

"We were discussing summoning and levitation," he began. "When I teach the two charms, they are considered quite different. The intentions behind the charms are not the same." Flitwick frowned remembering her logic.

"When we levitate an object, the intention is to cause gravity to release its hold on the item; so we concentrate on the lightness of the object." He was standing now with his hands behind his back.

"What Phaelan has suggested, is that the intention works not on the object itself, but on the action of gravity against it." Shaking his head Flitwick began to pace. "You see, whether an object is present on Earth, on the Moon or in outer space, it will always have the same mass." He was now in his lecturing attitude." How the object acts or reacts is dependant on its distance from a larger mass, such as a planet and the amount of force placed upon it."

"The theory she is working on is that our intention, will cause the polarity of the molecules of the levitated object, to become exactly the same as the surface the object is resting upon. This will cause a repelling force, not unlike trying to force two magnets of the same pole together." The small professor looked over at his colleagues who had listened intently. "The force of magic we cast acts not upon the object, but instead, changes the way the Earth acts upon the object. The object itself is only reacting."

"Don't you see my friends?" Flitwick was excited about the thinking process Phaelan had ignited. "We are always seeking counters to curses and charms. In so doing, we look to the action itself, rather than to how the action is achieved. We need to look at what it is we are manipulating in the environment, to cause the spell to work and then find a way to change the environment, so that the climate does not exist for the spell to be successful." Flitwick returned to his seat, satisfied with his exercise in logic.

"The thought process, behind having the spell work, wouldn't significantly change for the person casting it though. Would it?" Asked Minerva.

"No it wouldn't Minerva. What I can see is the development of new counter spells and curses." Snape offered thoughtfully. "We need to get a DADA person on board to study this with us."

"That would be Remus." stated McGonagall.

"Yes, I know." spat an annoyed Severus Snape.

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Phaelan had made a deal with the elves to provide salt, limes and Ice for her Saturday soiree. They also promised to come up with some snacks; all for the reward of Coca Cola. The beverage was not common in the Wizarding world and had only come into the possession of the elves, when they were cleaning up after an illicit party in the Hufflepuff common room. Phaelan had a feeling the caffeine and carbonation gave the little creatures a high, but she couldn't get them to admit anything.

'Dobby, I need something to mix the ingredients with. In the Muggle world I would use a blender. Do you know what I mean?" Phaelan looked hopefully at the little elf.

A frown crossed his features as he concentrated on her request. Then, like a switch being turned on, his face brightened into a smile.

"Dobby knows, Miss. When Dobby was a Malfoy elf, the Master would have parties. There would be special drinks for the ladies. The Master would use a special pitcher to make them. Wait." He snapped his fingers and disappeared only to reappear a few seconds later.

"Here you are Miss, just like the Bad Master's; except you don't have magic." He puzzled himself again, but came up with his solution.

"Here you go Miss, a special spoon." He snapped his fingers and what looked to be a cross between an egg beater and a spoon appeared. "Just put it in the special pitcher and touch the bottom. It will spin just so." He demonstrated.

"Dobby, you are wonderful. I'll get you some special socks the next time I shop," Phaelan promised, where upon Dobby blushed deeply before disappearing again.

Madam Hooch was the first to enter. "Hello Phaelan heard you were having a bit of a knees-up for us girls." She smiled. "About time we shook the cobwebs off."

"I thought it would be fun to just talk among ourselves, without the male half of the population." Phaelan answered over her shoulder. She began to mix the first batch of Margaritas of the evening.

The door opened to admit a new face to Phaelan. She had not yet met Sibyll Trelawney. Hearing the door close, she turned to see who had arrived. Almost immediately as the door closed, it opened again to admit McGonagall and Pomfrey.

"Prompt as ever I see, Sibyll," commented Minerva, as she passed the woman who appeared to look dazed.

"I had foreseen this important event and marked my calendar to keep it clear. There will be much revealed this evening. Many truths shared." intoned Trelawney, as she grasped Pomfrey's arm.

"Well, that's a revelation, considering we all plan to get slightly shit-faced, Sibyll," commented Hooch dryly. "Come and meet the instigator of tonight's little booze fest."

Trelawney seemed to waft across the room to Phaelan and Hooch. She looked at Phaelan closely, pulling up the palm of Phaelan's hand as if to read her fortune.

"Yes, I see it now. I now know why I was drawn here this evening." Sibyll spoke in a singsong voice.

"Give over, we all know, Sibyll. You got the owl yesterday morning, same as the rest of us," snorted Poppy Pomfrey to the amusement of the room.

Ignoring the laughter, Sibyll continued. "You come from a dark past to seek redemption for your sins. Alas, I see much pain in your future. You shall suffer at the hands of a friend. Wait.... I see you falling from high in the sky to land on a great body of water, no' perhaps sand. It appears you shall die an uncomfortable and lonely death my dear." She ended patting Phaelan's hand.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Phaelan, you're now officially initiated," said Minerva. "Sibyll, meet Phaelan McKenzie, our new Muggle studies teacher. Phaelan meet Sibyll Trelawney, our resident Seer."

'How do you do, Professor?" greeted Phaelan, trying unsuccessfully to remove her hand from Sibyll's grasp.

"Dear girl, dear girl." Sibyll continued to pat Phaelan's hand.

"Would you like a drink, Professor Trelawney; a Margarita?" Phaelan offered, still trying to extricate herself.

"Oh yes, how lovely," answered the professor, "Please, after what we've shared you must call me Sibyll," she offered, while reaching to grasp the proffered salt rimmed glass. She moved over to sit on one of the chairs Phaelan had arranged around a low table.

"What do you mean initiated, Minerva?" asked Phaelan, as she continued to pour for everyone else.

"You can't be officially part of Hogwarts unless Sibyll has predicted your death, at least once." smiled McGonagall, helping Phaelan to serve.

Pomona Sprout entered just as Phaelan was moving the snacks on to the table.

"Sorry I'm late, had to tend to the Mandrakes. There's an awful outbreak of acne among them. I'm wondering about the latest shipment of Dragon's dung. It might be impure," she commented, as she sat and received her glass from Phaelan. Taking a sip Pomona, sighed in contentment, "Just what I needed."

"Right Ladies, welcome. I'm so glad you could all come. I know there's a couple of the female staff missing but I figure that'll give me a chance to do this again, if we enjoy it this time." announced Phaelan to a chorus of 'Here, Here"

"Now, there is one thing I know and that is if you want to know the truth about what is going on in the world, you listen to the men for what you don't need to know and go to the women for the essential truth," began Phaelan to murmurs of agreement from the women.

"What can I really expect from the school year?" Phaelan asked and opened the floodgates of information about Hogwarts.

After another round of Margarita's, when all were sufficiently relaxed, Phaelan decided to introduce Tequila shooters to step up the party. No one had noticed Phaelan's glass was never really empty. They had all drank at least 4 times as much as had she.

Bringing a tray of small glasses, lime wedges and a bottle of good Tequila, Phaelan sat on the floor ready to demonstrate the correct technique for a Shooter of Tequila. Before she could begin, Sibyll reached for a wedge of lime and used it to wet the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger then sprinkled the spot with salt. She took the glass of Tequila Phaelan had poured, held it in the hand with the salt and then held the wedge of lime in the opposite hand.

In a fluid motion, Sibyll licked the salt, downed the Tequila in one gulp then sucked on the wedge of lime. The other witches watched in awe.

"Well, that's the proper technique alright." observed Phaelan, "Anyone else?" she offered.

Sibyll stuck her glass under the bottle waiting for a refill. Phaelan obliged, but made sure to stand and move so that the others had a chance.

The evening was made better by Minerva's idea of piping in some music from the Wizard Wireless Network. The tunes were terribly outdated, but it fit the atmosphere.

Hooch stole the evening, by demonstrating how she and an old boyfriend had managed to hook together two broomsticks in order to do the deed, suspended over the lake. Her physical antics of how one manoeuvred oneself to balance between the broom handles had everyone in stitches.

"Did you ever manage to accomplish your task, Hooch?" asked Pomona Sprout.

"No! The bloody sod got a cramp and straightened his leg. He fell into the lake and had to escape from the giant squid, who'd been sleeping below us," whinged Hooch.

Laughter shook the old beams and Minerva had to excuse herself, to prevent an accidental wetting of her pants.

The company had all became pleasantly plastered by the end of the evening. Phaelan had been regaled by tales of everything, from lovelorn teenagers making out in hidden corners to comparisons of bed partners. She became slightly uncomfortable, when Minerva and Albus were mentioned, but Minerva wouldn't kiss and tell.

Phaelan, who had relaxed towards the end enough to actually drink, was bidding her new friends goodnight. She watched as the women made their way back to their chambers, arm in arm.

"I think we need a designated Ghost to lead the way, Poppy." cried a thoroughly pissed Minerva, which sent Hooch and Sprout off into paroxysms of laughter.

'Breakfast's gonna be quiet tomorrow.' thought Phaelan.

Looking over at the remains of the night, she noticed a half a pitcher of Margarita left.

"Waste not, want not." said Phaelan to the room and proceeded to pour the left over Tequila into the pitcher and mix. Pouring herself a glass, she hummed along to the music on the Wireless.

Phaelan was beginning to feel at home with these amazing folk. She started to giggle, remembering how much bigger Sibyll's eyes had gotten the more she drank. Boy could she drink. The music changed again.

Laughing out loud she started to sing and dance.

"Wasted away again in Margaritaville *
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a Ma-an to blame,
But I know, it's my own damn fault.
Yes, and some people claim that there's a Ma-an to blame, And I know it's my own damn fault."

How appropriate she thought.

She sat slumped on the sofa, content she had garnered enough intelligence about the inhabitants of the castle, to make understanding their interactions easier. A smile came to her face as she thought, 'One should always know whom to play off another.' and she now felt some power in that department. Except, for one; Severus Snape.

"I hope you have something for a hangover, Miss McKenzie. It looks as though the female population of Hogwarts has been busy this evening." A familiar purr caressed her ears, floating down from over her head.

'Hello Severus," smiled Phaelan, as she bent her head back and looked up. "Would you like a drink? It's too good to wasted. Ha, Ha, Ha!" She laughed merrily, "I mean waste."

She stood and walked to the tray of glasses, pouring a fresh glass for Snape. Handing it to him, she observed quite seriously "You know, we didn't run out of clean glasses all night. Isn't that amazing?" She smiled again.

"I think you should go to bed, Phaelan," observed Snape, as he sniffed his glass. He was surprised how strong the drink was. Not what he expected from a woman.

"Okey dokey, Sev'rus. Will you take me shopping Monday? Please? I need to get the, whatchamacallit, stuff for the tests." Phaelan leaned her backside on the back of the sofa and looked at Snape with doleful eyes.

He approached her and leaned, to place his hands on the sofa back, one either side of her hips.

"If I say yes, will you go to bed like a good girl?" He spoke into her ear, using the deep resonant voice Phaelan remembered from before. He pulled back to look into her face. She had closed her eyes.

"Do you know what you do to me when you speak like that?" Phaelan opened her eyes and looked into his darkness again.

"Tell me Phaelan. What do you feel?" He was close enough to see the small hairs on her face move as he spoke.

"Who are you Severus Snape? What are you, that I can't stop thinking about you?" Phaelan had started to shiver slightly, even though the room was warm. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her head rest on his shoulder.

"Phaelan, do you really know what you've got yourself into? Can you do what is needed to play the game?" Snape was unaccustomed to the emotions he felt at that moment. His desires, usually well tamped down, were bubbling to the surface, ready to burst. She felt so relaxed in his arms. He had never had an adult woman want to be close to him before. Not willingly. Phaelan was different in so many ways.

"Phaelan. " He made to move away slightly and noticed her head dropped loosely to his shoulder. "Phaelan?" Severus tried to manoeuvre her position to see her face. When he finally got a proper look at her, he realized she was asleep.

"The story of my life," Snape muttered, as he lifted her into a fireman's carry. He made his way to her rooms and asked the portrait to open. The woman opened her mouth to question him, but noticed he had his wand out and so opened without further delay.

Walking into her bedroom, Severus gently laid Phaelan on her bed, pulling her feet up before covering her with the duvet. He reached to brush her hair away from her face and lay a gentle kiss on her cheek, only to find her arms around his neck once more.

"Are you the dark one? Are you the one in my dream? Tell me. I ask no payment. Just tell me what you want from me." Phaelan's eyes were still closed. It was clear she was still sleeping.

"Sleep my little wolf;* we'll talk later." Snape whispered, pulling her arms down and tucking them under the duvet.

"Don't leave, you always leave too soon." She muttered, as she fell more deeply into slumber.

Snape turned and left quickly for his quarters. He was confused. What dream was she talking about? Could it be? Who could he speak to? Not that quack Trelawney.

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"Piss off, get your hands off me," shouted Ginny, as she was none to lightly escorted from the underage club. "You just want some of this, don't you? You pervert," she yelled, while she grabbed her breasts with both hands, glaring at the retreating backs of the security guards.

Harry and Ron grabbed her arms to drag her back to the parking lot, where Hermione's car had been left.

"Le'me go, you fucking pricks. You're supposed to be on my side," Ginny shouted, as she tried to free herself from their grasp.

"Bloody hell Ginny, leave off." Had the light not been so dim, Ron's cheeks would have been an unheard of scarlet.

"Let's just get back to mine, Ron. Hermione and I can get her sobered up." Harry was more upset than he let on. This was supposed to be his chance to share his true feelings with her, but instead, Ginny had pulled every guy in sight with her attire.

"I don't know what's wrong with her, mate. I've never seen her like this before," said Ron, in a distressed voice.

"Watch for the Muggle coppers, Ron, they might get the wrong idea," warned Harry, as he looked around.

Suddenly, Hermione drove up in front of them. Harry opened the rear door and pushed Ginny in. He looked at Ron to see who would join her.

"Go ahead mate. I'm at a loss." Ron indicated Harry should get in the back with her. Ron jumped in the front seat and Hermione took off for Privet Drive.

As soon as they arrived and parked, Ron and Harry hustled Ginny inside. Harry had held his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Hermione slipped in after securing the car.

"What time is it guys?" Hermione asked, looking to see how much leeway she had to sober Ginny up.

"It's only 9:30, Hermione. Christ, we were only there an hour and a half," exclaimed a surprised Harry.

Ginny had found the sound system in the living room and had started to play around with the radio receiver. Finding music to her liking, she turned the volume up.

"Come and dance, Harry. Don't you want to dance with me?" Ginny was gyrating to the music in a suggestive manner. Some may have found it erotic, but Harry was saddened to his soul.

"Ginny, stop. Please just stop." Harry pleaded. He walked over and turned off the radio.

Hermione walked over to Ginny and laid a hand on her brow. The young girl was sweating profusely.

"Ginny, what did you drink?" demanded Hermione.

Ginny licked her lips, "Just a little whiskey, courtesy of your daddy," laughed Ginny, as she poked Hermione.

"How much whiskey, Ginny?" Asked a distraught Ron.

"Ron," started Hermione, "I don't think this is whiskey." Hermione may live most of her life as a witch, but she kept in touch with the Muggle world.

"Ginny, did you take something, like a pill, from anyone?" Hermione was becoming afraid.

"Ginny, GINNY!" Hermione yelled. "Talk to me Ginny, what did you take?" begged Hermione.

"A little pink pill," giggled Ginny, "with a picture of a bunny rabbit's head in front." Ginny kept on laughing and flailing her arms.

"Where's your computer Harry, this is an emergency." She grabbed Harry and shook him.

"Upstairs in Dudley's room, but I don't know if you can get in." warned Harry, not sure if Dudley had the brains to install a Password.

'I have to try, Harry, show me where," she demanded. Harry pointed and led the way upstairs.

The pair entered a room, cluttered with every possible gadget available to an adolescent. Hermione ignored the cacophony of paraphernalia and set about logging on the computer.

"There's no password, Harry. Don't worry, I'll cover my steps. Go help Ron. And Harry; if she looks funny or something, call the ambulance. Okay?"

Harry replied with a nod, "Okay, Hermione." He left to help Ron watch his sister.

When Harry walked into the living room, he saw his best friend crying.

"What can I do Harry? What's wrong with her?" Ron had taken having a little sister for granted. Now that they were the only one's at home, he had thought they had become friends as well.

Taking in Ginny's state, Harry went to the fridge to get a fancy sports beverage. He knew they were fashionable, but he also knew athletes used them to balance their fluids.

"Hey, Ginny, drink this." Harry offered her a bottle of the designer drink.

"Hey! I saw a guy wearing a t-shirt advertising this. Cool Harry." Ginny admired the bottle, eyes betraying a stoned young woman.

"Just drink Ginny," begged Harry.

Hermione shouted down, "Harry, Ron bring her up to the bathroom."

The boys dragged the girl upstairs.

"How long ago did you take it Ginny?" demanded Hermione. She shook Ginny to get her attention. "Ginny, did you take it when we arrived or just before we got kicked out."

"When you and Ron were necking on the floor and Harry went for a piss," Ginny finally admited.

"Alright, you need to vomit, Ginny, come on." Hermione indicated the boys should bring her to the toilet.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened Ginny's mouth and used a wadded face cloth to prevent her finger from being bitten. While Harry and Ron held her, Hermione shoved her finger down Ginny's throat hoping the girl had an active gag reflex. Apparently, she did as she, with protest, gave up her dinner and everything ingested since. Looking at the contents of the water closet, Hermione saw the remnants of a pink pill.

After voiding the contents of her stomach, Ginny sat on the bathroom floor, trembling and sweating. Hermione moved to the shower and turned it on. Checking the temperature was tepid only, Hermione dragged Ginny to sit in the spray. Ginny began to fight again.

"I'll do this." Harry stepped into the shower to hold Ginny in front of him.

"Until she stops shaking Harry." instructed Hermione.

"Okay," he answered, and settled in for the long haul.

"Come on Ron, they're going to need something warm." Hermione sighed as she moved downstairs.

Hermione pulled out the coffee pot and put water on to boil.

"What's wrong with her Hermione? Why is she doing this?" Ron was close to tears once more.

"I don't know Ron. I thought when I invited Ginny for a couple of weeks in the summer, it would be fun. She has been acting weird since the third day she arrived." Hermione hated talking about her friend in this way.

"She has been putting it out, since she arrived at my place. I had to forbid her to give my address." Hermione's distress was as great as Ron's.

What do we do Hermione?" asked a disconsolate Ron. "She's my little sister. I should be protecting her."

"Ron, you can't protect her from her own choices." She smiled at the young man who was so forlorn. "What if someone had told you not to be a friend to Harry?"

"Yeh, I suppose you're right," he answered, after a moments thought.

Hermione was thinking to distract his thoughts. "Ron, after this year, what were you planning to do? She inquired.

Her train of thought took Ron unawares. "I don't know Hermione, I hadn't thought much past the final battle with You know Who." He answered.

'But, you were planning financially for the coming year, Ron." Hermione revealed she knew of his plan.

"Yeh, I was." He twisted his mouth up, unsure how to continue. "I wanted to prove I could make a place for myself apart from Harry and Hogwarts. I wanted to prove myself to you, Hermione." He looked up at her with a timid expectation.

"Ron, never doubt yourself. Harry would never have made it past the chess game, in our first year, without you. You are a very special person. You are a treasured friend. I couldn't imagine Hogwarts without you," declared Hermione.

Ron stood and approached Hermione in a manner he had never in his life approached a girl.

"Hermione, please say you'll consider my paying court in the future. I know we're too young just now. I just want to know, I have a chance with you." Ron looked into Hermione's eyes with all the honesty he could summon. "I love you Hermione. There's nothing I wouldn't give to be with you."

"Oh, Ron. I never thought a man would think of me that way. I'm just the bushy haired know-it-all-pain-in-the-ass you borrow homework from." She reached up to touch and stroke Ron's face.

"You're right, when you say we're too young, but if there was ever any man who wanted to be so honourable as to offer a courtship to me, I couldn't imagine being more flattered, more proud than to name you as my courtier." Hermione lowered her eyes. "I don't know if what I feel is love, Ron. I only know my life would be incomplete without you. There will always be a place for you in my heart. I hope it's enough for now."

"Thank you, Hermione. It's more than I ever expected." He leaned forward to place a light kiss on her lips; a promise of things to come.

"Hermione, Ron, come upstairs," called Harry.

They were out of the shower and sitting on the floor of the bathroom. Water was dripping off of their hair, making puddles on the floor.

"Here Ginny, let's get you wrapped in this." said Hermione as she pulled a fluffy bath towel around her friend.

Ginny sat on the floor rocking and crying. Ron crouched down beside her and pulled her into a big brothers hug.

"What's wrong, Ginny? You can tell me. This isn't my little sister," crooned Ron, trying to comfort her.

"I haven't been your little sister for a long time, Ron. You just never noticed," Ginny whispered, as she looked off into space.

"Harry," called Hermione, "go and get changed before you catch your death." She wrapped a towel about his shoulders and pushed him towards what she thought was his bedroom.

"okay, Hermione. What about Ginny?" he indicated with his head.

"Does your aunt have a dressing gown? I noticed the tumble dryer down stairs. I can dry her clothes." Hermione decided.

"What time to you need to be home?" asked Harry, as he went to the front bedroom to get something from his aunt's wardrobe.

"Midnight," replied Hermione, "but I can likely stretch it half an hour; blame traffic or something."

"Here you go, will this do?" Harry held up a bas relief floral thing. "It's her hospital dressing gown, so she says."

"Is she sick often?" asked Hermione, holding up the shocking garment.

"Never," answered Harry, "I suspect the germs were too embarrassed to be seen in a body that would wear this." he snickered.

Hermione giggled. "Alright, let's see if I can get her to change." She walked to the bathroom and entered. Ron stepped out.

Harry had gone to his room to put on some dry clothes. He turned to see Ron leaning on the door frame.

"I think she should go home, mate," sighed a morose Ron. "I think she needs mum."

"I don't know Ron. Let's see what Ginny and Hermione say. Let's go downstairs." Harry led the way to the kitchen.

The girls joined them shortly after. Hot coffee and biscuits filled the space between the silences. A soft bell toned, to indicate the dryer was finished.

"Here Ginny, get changed and we'll go home." Hermione brought Ginny's stuff to her.

Without looking up, Ginny grabbed the clothes. "I think I want to really go home, Hermione. I don't belong in your world."

"If you want Ginny, we'll floo your mum in the morning," agreed Hermione.

Ginny nodded and left to change. The three friends were left to wonder what happened to the littlest Weasley.

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A dark figure walked through the moonlight to keep a rendezvous with his master. At first glance, one could never have taken Lucius Malfoy for anyone's servant. Indeed, Lucius did not think of himself as subservient. In his view, he was following a path to ensure the supremacy of the Pureblood wizard. Voldemort was an end to his means. No more, No less.

Lucius came before the circle in the grave yard.

"My loyal follower Lucius, how good of you to join us this evening."

Malfoy dropped to his knee and made a deep obeisance to his Lord.

"Master," Lucius crooned in his silken smooth voice.

"Have you spoken with Severus, your brother?" asked Voldemort, approaching the still kneeling Malfoy. "We had hoped you would have news of his recent acquisition."

"My lord, I had tried to approach your servant, as he visited the Ministry. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had Severus dogging his heals the entire time," answered Malfoy, careful to keep his voice even. The Dark Lord revelled in the obedience of his minions, but he abhorred cowardice.

"Rise, Lucius. You disappoint me; I thought you had some sway with my agent, in the old fool's court. Surely, he would have had a word with his old friend. Perhaps you are not as close to him as you had surmised." Voldemort touched a cold finger to Lucius' face.

"I am grieved at your disappointment, My Lord. I do have word of the addition you speak of from another source." Malfoy coyly tried to deflect Voldemort's displeasure.

Turning his back on Malfoy, Voldemort let the pause lengthen.

"You may speak," he commanded.

"My Lord, my source advises an account was opened at Gringotts for a Miss McKenzie, an American. She is apparently well educated, young and attractive. The normal arrangements have been set up for transference of funds between Gringotts and a Muggle bank." Lucius was content the next information would turn the irritation of his lord away from him.

"She has been registered to teach Muggle studies at Hogwarts this coming term." Lucius smiled, "Severus did manage to slip that he found the arrangement....convenient."

"Indeed. We must speak to our young servant." Voldemort decided before turning to Lucius. "I expect better Lucius. You should have an interest in what your son is being educated by. One never knows what kind of contamination a Muggle might bring," he spat, turning his red eyes on Malfoy, who had returned to a kneeling position.

"Go, all of you. I will call you soon." Voldemort announced, before disappearing with Pettigrew.

Malfoy stood and took a deep breath. He had avoided the Dark Lord's wrath one more time. Now, he needed to speak to Snape, soon.



A/N*Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet with the lyrics slightly altered for the situation.
"Sleep my little wolf.*

Phaelan - The name is a derivation of the Man's name Phalan or Phalen or Falen - I means roughly - Little wolf.