The night air had become quite cool and Nancy Fallow drew her shawl tight around her narrow shoulders. A nasty cough tore through her chest, sending her into fits. It wasn't the first time it had happened in the last few weeks, but it was getting worse and she'd finally decided to make an appointment to see a Healer the next day. Since the Dark Lord and Harry were off at Hogwarts, her absence surely wouldn't be missed.

"Is there anything ma'am needs from Nellie?"

Nancy turned to the house-elf and smiled. She'd always felt more akin to the strange creatures than most people. "A few more logs on the fire to keep the cold out if you please."

Nellie snapped her fingers and the fire grew instantly. "Will the mistress be needing anything else from Nellie?"

She shook her head. "No, that will be all. Thank you so much."

The house-elf's eyes crinkled and her mouth turned into a strange, sad little smile. "Miss Fallow always be treating Nellie so kindly." Then the little elf popped away.

Nancy sighed as the warmth from the fire filled the large sitting room. She could go up to her bedroom where it was probably even warmer, but something about the sitting room always cheered her spirits. Perhaps it was the echo of laughter that seemed to permeate the place. Every object and piece of furniture held memories of her Lord and little Harry. Those memories made her heart swell.

It had been so long ago since she'd met young Tom Riddle. Of course she'd also known Tom Riddle Sr., the bastard that he was, but she'd only heard rumors of his illegitimate son. Until the day he'd come upon her by the edge of the river.

She'd been crying that day and was surprised to look up and see a young man staring at her from the other side of the bank. She'd recognized him immediately of course, with his slight resemblance to his father, but she'd been surprised to see him so close to the Riddle property. He was such a beautiful sight to behold, almost as if he was a moving statue. He appeared to be the same age as she, but his eyes were so much older and wiser.

"You should be off now," she'd snapped at him, "Before your father comes 'round and sees you here."

Young Tom Riddle had just stood and stared, watching her with the most curious eyes. "You're a squib, did you know that? I can see the faintest traces of magic around you."

She had shaken her head wildly, yelling, "No, that's not true!" Even though she'd known he was right. She'd known ever since that night her parents had abandoned her on the streets of London when she was only eight.

Ten days after her first impromptu meeting with Tom, she was down at the river again. Young Tom seemed to know she would be there, because not a minute after she'd collapsed on the bank, he was standing nearby, watching her. What a sight she must have made with her torn dress and a bruise covering her cheek.

"Has he hurt you again?" Tom had asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she'd stammered defensively. But she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew and it made her feel sick and angry. "Stop looking at me like that! Stop looking in my head!" Then she had run off from fear.

Five days later, Tom Riddle Sr. was dead. Two days after that, young Tom Riddle came to her little cottage in the dead of night wearing a cloak and a mask. He'd asked her to come away and leave the muggle world behind. She'd said yes even though she hadn't known anything about him other than the fact that he was a murderer, but it didn't matter because he had saved her from such a wretched existence. No longer did she have to be a slave and a whore to a rich bastard.

After living with Tom for only a month she'd gone willingly to his bed. She'd believed herself in love with him, and he in love with her, but their worlds were so far separated that she knew it couldn't last. It became worse as time went by and she seemed to get older while he barely aged at all. She still loved him of course, and he held some fondness for her, but that was all it was…fondness.

The fire flared high in the grate again and Nancy turned to give a sleepy smile to Nellie. Dreams of the past danced in her head as her eyes slowly closed and her breathing became shallow.

DSz

Harry stared across the large Hall with wide eyes. The Great Hall was a sight to behold when it was empty, but now, filled with children, it seemed even more amazing. At every table children talked and laughed, some even cried, it was so interesting and curious.

"Those are the two boys I flew with this afternoon," he mentioned to Voldemort, pointing out Bill and Charlie Weasley. The two redheads seemed uncomfortable being pointed out, but they smiled and waved just the same.

"Hmmm…Weasley's, yes, I know the Weasley family," the older man commented, "They're a very old pureblood family with many children."

"Really?" Harry questioned, "More than just two?" From what he'd read, most pureblood families didn't have many children.

"There are seven children in the Weasley family," the Headmaster stated. "I believe Bill is the oldest, with Charlie two years behind and then there are five more at home."

"Wow! That's good isn't it, for a pureblood family to have so many children?"

Voldemort nodded. "It is and I've tried to promote that ever since I came to power. Although some of the older families are afraid to change a system that's been around for so long. Each family receives money from the Ministry for each child they have past one and if they adopt a muggle-born they receive even more."

"Then the Weasley's must be rich."

Severus snorted loudly from the other side of the Dark Lord. "Children have many needs and I expect having seven of them can put quite a strain on a wizard's coin purse." Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, chuckled into her water goblet and Voldemort had to fight the grin rising on his own face. "O, you know what I was trying to say," Snape huffed.

Harry gave each a confused look. "I don't understand."

"It's nothing Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall chuckled, "Just a little joke between the Headmaster and I."

Harry cocked his head to the side and gave the dark-haired man a questioning look. "Is that why you don't have children then?"

"What?" Severus blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Because it would put a strain on your coin purse?" Harry added innocently, causing all of the adults to laugh even more.

Voldemort finally calmed himself and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'll explain later," he assured the boy, but Harry wasn't paying attention, he was staring blankly at the two Weasley children.

"I wonder what it would be like to have so many children around," Harry wondered aloud, "Bill and Charlie are awfully nice. I had a lot of fun flying with them."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and Severus had the intelligence to look away. "Do not be fooled by their kindness Harry. The Weasley family fought on the side of Dumbledore during the Great War."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really? But they're purebloods, why would they fight against you when you only want to help purebloods."

Voldemort was at a loss for a moment. "Harry, we talked about Dumbledore and the people who fought on his side, do you remember?" The boy nodded studiously. "And do you remember why Dumbledore was fighting against me?"

"He wanted to give muggles access to the wizarding world," Harry replied, "Dumbledore thought that muggles and wizards could live together in peace."

Voldemort nodded. "That's exactly right. The Weasley's also believed that muggles and wizards should live side-by-side." It was a bit of a stretch on the truth, but the Dark Lord didn't care. He wanted to make sure that Harry understood just how 'evil' the Weasley family could be. "Arthur Weasley was even caught with muggle artifacts, many of them highly illegal even under the old Ministry's rules."

"But Bill and Charlie seem really nice," Harry broke in, a slight tone of confusion in his small voice.

"Remember when I talked to you about how sometimes people act really nice when they want something from you."

"Do you think that's why they were nice to me?"

"Who knows," Voldemort shrugged. "But the whole family has reason to hate me and they could try to hurt you to get to me." Harry shivered in his seat. "But I would never let that happen Harry," he assured the boy. McGonagall gave him a dirty look but he brushed it aside.

Harry smiled at him, that tiny, shy smile that made Voldemort want to smile back. He would never do that in front of so many people though so he merely ruffled the boy's hair.

"Now eat your dinner. I thought we'd go into the forest and look for unicorns tonight."

"Really?" Harry exclaimed.

"Of course," Voldemort replied calmly. "I also have some other business to take care of with the Centaurs, but that shouldn't take long."

The Dark Lord watched Harry dutifully shovel peas into his mouth. It was an odd feeling, this love that he felt for the boy, but not unwelcome. He'd always thought love changed a person, made them do things they wouldn't normally do, that sort of thing. Obviously this wasn't true in his case. He could still lie to the boy with ease and feel no guilt. Harry would someday be his equal, but for now the boy looked to him to explain the world around them.

It would be a world of his making, just as Harry would be the man of his making.

DSz

Nancy Fallow woke from a deep sleep with a headache and a throat full of phlegm. She thanked all that was magical that she'd finally come to her senses and made an appointment with a Healer. The weather would only get colder and this sickness she'd contracted wasn't getting any better.

"Would Miss Fallow be needing anything from Nellie?"

"No thank you," she replied to the house-elf as she rose to prepare herself for the day. "On second thought, take my brown traveling cloak from the hall closet and hang it by the door, the thick one with the fur collar."

"Of course ma'am." With a snap the elf was gone.

There were two portkeys laid out for her trip. One would take her to Godric's Hollow and the other would bring her back home. They were special portkeys made for her by Voldemort himself and they would only work when held in her hand, with a special password that only Voldemort and she knew.

Godric's Hollow was bright and lively. Many shops were preparing for Halloween and she slowed her steps to look at the wonderful displays. Bathilda Bagshot waved at her as she passed the woman's house and Nancy waved back.

"Good morning Nancy!" Bathilda greeted happily. "Come for some shopping?"

Nancy shook her head. "No, 'fraid not. I've come to see Larson down the street."

"O, nothing too bad I hope?"

She shook her head again and grinned. "Just a virus or some other such rubbish."

Bathilda pursed her lips. "What have I told you? You shouldn't be running around muggle London. Who knows what those muggles are covered with, they're all so dirty!"

"I know, but it's the fastest way to Mayfair Lane."

The old woman rolled her eyes. "That place," she snorted. "Nothing but over-priced wares and shoddy potions' ingredients."

"I know, but there's a chocolate shop there and it sells the most heavenly sweets. You know how the boys love sweets."

"Only you would call the Dark Lord a 'boy'," Bathilda laughed heartily.

Nancy checked her watch. "I best be off or I'll be late."

"Well, good luck to you then. Hope it all comes out okay. Tell Larson good day for me and tell him to keep his children away from my rose bushes." She put her hands on her hips and Nancy couldn't help but smile.

"I'll do that," she agreed. "Good day!"

In better spirits then she'd been before her stop at Bathilda's, she entered Healer Larson's small office. The young, blonde witch at the front desk gave her a wide smile and Nancy smiled widely in return.

"Appointment for Nancy Fallow at nine."

The witch checked a long piece of parchment on the desk in front of her. "Let's see, Fallow, Fallow, Fallow, there you are." She looked up, smile still in place. "Please take a seat and Healer Larson will be with you shortly. You may hang your cloak by the door if you wish."

Nancy hung her cloak on one of the free hooks and took a seat in one of the large, comfortable armchairs in the waiting room. A stack of magazines lay on the table to her right and she browsed through them absent-mindedly. She chuckled quietly as she noticed an old magazine from last Christmas.

On the cover was a picture of Voldemort carrying Harry. The caption underneath asked readers 'What would you give Voldemort and Harry for Christmas?' Inside was a collection of letters from readers, each one lamenting on how lonely the Dark Lord and his protégé must be around the holidays and each writer had many suggestions as to the perfect gifts for the pair. The one that really made her grin was one man's suggestion that Harry should have a snake of his own. O wouldn't Nagini love that, as if the great snake isn't jealous enough as it is!

"Miss Fallow," a deep voice called out.

Nancy looked up sheepishly, stashing the magazine back under the pile. "Healer Larson," she greeted as she stood. The man shook her hand lightly and directed her to a smaller room down the hall.

"Please take a seat," he gestured at the small, raised bed in the middle of the room. She sat down nervously and straightened her robes. The Healer rolled a stool over and sat in front of her, his wand raised. "So Miss Fallow, tell me what kind of symptoms you've been having and when these symptoms started."

She shifted on the bed sheepishly as he started running some basic scans. "I've been having headaches and a very bad cough, with a lot of phlegm. I've also seem to tire faster than I used to, but I am getting older…"

He eyed her a moment before asking again. "And how long has this been going on?"

"About two months," she replied in a tiny voice. "I thought it might go away on its own."

Healer Larson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Fallow, it is very important that you see a Healer immediately when you're having any sort of health problems. That's what we're here for."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother." He rolled his eyes. "Now, you are a squib, correct?"

She nodded. "That's not a problem is it? It's never been a problem before."

"It could be if you come into contact with muggles."

"I try not to very often, but sometimes I take a muggle train to get to Mayfair Lane. You know, that new shopping center in London?"

"Yes, I've heard of it," he nodded. "I hate to say it, but this complicates things greatly. As a squib, you are much more at risk of contracting muggle diseases and viruses."

"So you can't help me then?"

He shook his head. "My scans show that there is a sickness in your lungs, but it is not magical and I cannot identify exactly what it is. If I can't identify it, then I can't treat it."

Tears sprung up in Nancy's eyes. "Can you recommend another Healer?"

"I'm afraid I can't, but I would recommend you see a muggle doctor. I know how unsavory that idea is, but I think it is the only way you will get a proper diagnosis."

"I should have stayed out of London," she blurted out, feeling a bit of hysterics coming on. "My Lord warned me and I didn't listen. He's going to be so angry with me." She twisted her robes around her fingers. "I can't see a muggle doctor," she stated with haunted, damp eyes. "I won't go back to that world." In her mind she could see herself lying in a muggle hospital, alone…forgotten…

The streets of Godric's Hollow didn't seem so bright and cheery as she walked from the Healer's office. She steered clear of Bathilda's house so she wouldn't be forced to paste a fake smile on her face.

She fingered the letter opener in her pocket, the portkey home. It was such a small thing, but it made her cry when she looked at it. It was the letter opener that Voldemort always used to open the owl post every morning. The stupid little thing brought back so many memories. She wiped her eyes and shook her head, doing her best to will away the ache in her chest.

"Dutiful Dementors," she whispered, noticing a tugging on the back of her cloak at the same moment she felt the hook behind her navel. "Merlin's beard!" She exclaimed as she landed outside the castle gate and turned to see a large, black dog with its teeth clamped firmly on her good winter cloak. "You drop that this instant!" She shouted.

Surprisingly the mangy looking dog did as it was told, dropping the fabric between its teeth. It lay down and scooted away, whining loudly, looking at her with gigantic, yellow puppy dog eyes that she just couldn't resist. Putting any intelligent thought aside, she reached out and patted the dog on its dirty furred head.

"You're lucky Voldemort isn't here," she stated and the dog's whining seemed to grow louder. "Now, now, none of that. No feeling sorry for yourself. Let's get you inside and get you cleaned up."

Nancy knew she shouldn't bring the dog into the castle. Nancy knew that Voldemort would most likely be very angry. But at the moment Nancy didn't care. This mangy mutt took her mind off her own problems. It was a much needed diversion in a stressful time and she didn't care what Voldemort would say. Besides, she knew Harry would love having a dog and Voldemort would never say no to Harry.

She led the black dog toward the downstairs toilet by the scruff of its neck. "What shall we call you then?" She gave the mutt a questioning look but the dog ignored her in favor of sniffing their surroundings. "You're very black, so why not Blacky. Yes, that's a good name for a big, black dog like you. Isn't it Blacky?" The dog barked. "I'm certain Harry will fall in love with you, boys do love dogs. We just need to get you cleaned and trimmed."

Blacky's tongue lolled out as he looked up at her with a wide doggy grin.