The Dark Lords Daughter 2: Slytherins Heir *completed*

Fake

The week before Christmas went by quickly, mostly taken up with finishing holiday assignments and spending days in the barn with Grace. The snow had become ridiculously deep and on some mornings I had to dig through the snow to get to the frozen wooden doors to the stable. Hermione often accompanied me, but sat of the hay stack and read whilst I worked. Harry and Ron however seemed to relish in the lack of need to get up each morning and I often found myself going to wake them up for lunch. Although we had only not seen each other for seven days I had already received four letter from Oliver. I swooned each time his owl, Allora, appeared at my window, always late on a night. His letters would be filled with words of longing and pleas for my to accompany him next Christmas and always would be sighed O.Y.O. The first time I had noticed the strange signature it had puzzled over it all night, wondering what it could stand for. Curiosity burning I wrote back, asking him, the responding words made my heart melt and soar at the same time. Even now I could hear his voice as read the answer.

"Oliver, your Oliver." I would read that line over and over each time my stomach would flutter and I would float in my dream like happiness.

   I currently sat on my bed flicking through my Potions homework, I had finished it hours ago, but with everyone else off doing their own thing, I had nothing else to do. Sighing I decided to go and place it on Snape's desk. Out of sight, out of mind. I swung my legs off the warm covers of my bed and stood pulling on my ankle boots before heading out of the empty Gryffindor tower. I walked slowly, greeting the painting as I went, chatting to the merry ghosts as they passed by. Talking of ghosts, I didn't think it would but, without Sir Nicholas the castle seemed quieter. I shivered thinking if the last time I had seen him, his frozen expression of horror. Blinking I suddenly became aware of my surroundings, after all these unknown attacks I now stood alone in the lower levels of the dungeons. My revelations made me particularly wary, I walked slowly round corners, jumped at the slightest sound and kept my eyes open for any sign of danger. A loud crash sounded behind me, startled I jumped backwards hiding in a doorway. Peeking round the wooden frame I sighed as Malfoy and his goons ran up the stairs, laughing loudly. I relaxed, my shoulders slumping.

"Your being ridiculous!" I scolded myself.

"I agree." I lurched forward away from the unknown voice, spinning round I was met with the cold black eyes of Professor Snape.

"Professor-" I gasped clutching my chest.

"You scared me." His face remained the same throughout my reactions, his lips never twitching.

"Indeed." His nasally voice, was bland and uninterested.

"May I ask Miss Lockheart what you are doing in this particular part of the castle?" He watched me carefully as I floundered for an explanation. My shock, knocking all thoughts from my jumbled mind. Glancing down I noticed the parchment in my hand.

"Yes!" I said loudly, "yes, sorry Professor. I came to put this on your desk." I gestured to the homework and he reached out his hand. I offered it to him and he snatched it quickly. I gulped as he scanned over my messy writing, checking my answers. As he finished his eyes lifted to mine.

"Very good Miss Lockheart, though on question eight it it four drops of leech juice, not five. By adding to much the shrinking potion would become toxic and kill whoever came in contact with it." I nodded respectfully, eyes wide, who knew one drop could make such a difference.

"You may go, but I do urge you travel with a group. We don't want anymore incidents so we?" I knew he was referring to the petrified students and I sunk back away from him.

"Yes Professor." I murmured and slunk away heading back up to the main floor.

   As I turned the corner towards the main staircases I paused, the lower levels of the castle always freaked me out and I simply stood recovering from my fright. I lent against the walls underneath a portrait of an elderly man, sat in what looked like an old fashioned study. He smiled kindly.