And finally the last chapter in this series and I hope you enjoy. Again I would like to point out I'm still not J.K. and only dream inside her world. If you have enjoyed this story please let me know and leave a few words behind.

An Unfortunate Slight

Part IV


It had become painfully obvious that he had completely misjudged and miscalculated the entire situation before him. What it had actually encompassed was the simple matter of fact way that pure perception was merely each player's own determination of the existing facts; and it would seem that in this particular instance he had certainly been out maneuvered and his final day would find him lying across the bloodied battlefield of his own mind, with-out any remorse and shamelessly defeated. Against better judgment, he had let her in. She had been uninvited and yet he would eventually covet her love and attention; would cleave to her as he took his final breath and love her all the more for his eventual release.

Greatly intriguing had been her initial reaction to his harsh features and sour demeanor but like everything that ages with time her perception had altered. No longer was he those things he was those things for all sorts of reasons, for all sorts of sins he could never speak allowed to anyone except those few he chose as his confessor. This sandalwood scented Master of potions and magic, whose voice echoed within her own mind until she thought she might scream, lacked the one thing that every mortal being needed. This man of magic had no faith, and for this lack of faith he took life. For one shinning moment he become the creator, the bringer of life, the last hope of salvation until finally pronouncing his final judgment. Her revelation had been uninvited but had come all the same and she had not been allowed to refuse.

It had been the most difficult to silence the echo's, to purge the visions that flooded her mind when he stood nearest, barely a breath away from her form. Perhaps she had initially dismissed what she had seen, stark imagines one after the next burning inside her own mind. She had needed something so desperately to crave, something to silence the constant barrage of numbers and letters running, racing against each other each moment of the day, shouting in voices no one else could hear. This Master had beguiled her from the moment she had first seen him and would have gladly given her life for his if only she had thought he had deserved it. For in the end she would find him to be nothing of the man she once thought him to be. This man was tortured beyond what even she could repair, what she could manipulate until all the parts worked properly again. There had been no hope for her love, she knew what he was, and would always be, even if given another choice. Some sins can never be forgiven, in time they fade and become little snapshots we file away, but they can never be forgiven. No one really can ever forgive you, only you can do that yourself but first you must have faith to ask to be forgiven and this creature of no god had none.

It had been a rather simple code really, nothing she was not able to plant deep inside her mind, turn it around and view it from angles the rest of the world could not see. How ironic it had seemed at the time that such a complicated man would wear such an uncomplicated suit of armour. She had solved his riddle using her own mad-ness as the very key to his own; she had essentially become his own Caesar's cipher. From there his sins poured, flowed like water crashing against her bare skin. Each sensual movement raged against her had brought an onslaught of deeds that should have never been spoken. In that one moment, in that pivotal shift of power she had not only become his confessor but his Devil's Advocate as well. Just to what extent could she forgive him, how many of his secrets would she silence for the world? Just how much would she allow herself to forget just to know she could feel his touch one more time?

To covet so completely, to find a silence for the world inside your own mind is a most hypnotic mistress. Knowing the slightest brush of his skin against your own would send the demons back into the Nod where they belong, to know his voice could banish the reeling cosmos of symbols and compulsory rituals. Having all this knowledge and still knowing he would have to fall and it could only be by your hand. Your same existence in the great fabric of time, your oddity that laughed in the very face of nature, would see in him what others never could. This Master of deception had fallen into the one place he could never escape, embedded deep in the darkest of places; a riddle inside his own well crafted code he was buried within her mind. His days had been numbered from that day on; irony had indeed played the final hand.

Befitting the Master he was she calculated his final moment with the pomp and circumstance of a Conclave being called into session. In a way indeed the power he held was being passed from one master to the next; her actions were no less horrible than those of his own. In his defeat she would become what she could have never imagined herself to be, the slayer of her own salvation; it simply would have to be a sin she could bear. Having the one thing he would never know, she would find her way back into the light; she had the faith to see this through.

The time had come, all the clocks had stopped and his final day eventually fell like the sun setting over the moors. Nothing short of her own demise could have stopped her, not then, not when she was so close to ending his suffering, to finding his release and presenting him before the gods for judgment. Only they knew where he belonged, it had not been up to her to even speculate, her faith had only gone so far. Perhaps he had known why she sought him deep within his lair, buried beneath a castle fighting to stand against the bitter torrents of falling ice from the heavens. Her Master had not seemed shocked to see her there, standing in a doorway she was all to familiar with but he had immediately stood and met her where she paused. Nothing in his manner led her to believe he knew this would be his last night upon this world, nothing what so ever had seemed out of place in the least.

Tenderly he had leaned closer, tilting her chin to find his release, seeking absolution for all his deeds. In the softest of movements his lips touched against hers and he had known, the taste of clove unmistakable to a man such as him-self. There had been nothing associated with this little Gryffindor that he did not know, nothing in her make up that had not been already categorized and filed away for only his more carnal thoughts to enjoy. Licking his lips confirming what he knew to be true, the taste of almonds pushing its way past the pungent sent of clove. Slowly his eyes had traveled until meeting with hers, seeing in them the words she could not speak; his time had come and he had allowed this to happen, mea culpa.

Knowing in that instant what she had done, what sacrifice she had paid to see his reign of terror finally end, brought such elation as he had never known. Not only would she release his sins but pave his way into the very heavens as well; her life would be his final act of contrition, a gift given without ever being asked as payment for his sins. Together they would find immortality, and peace with in their own minds. Despite what he had done, she had damned her self as well and knowing he no longer would travel alone, he allowed his eyes to close and finally found the silence he had always sought.