Author's note: we are with another chapter. This is a fluffy one. Extremely fluffy and I love it. Silwen gets to breathe, and even laugh in this one! Hooray! Umm...I was going to say something important, but...that ship sailed a few seconds ago and I can't see it anymore.

Umm...This chapter has a tiny bit of cliche in it, but the idea came and I couldn't resist. It just something Silwen needed...

I don't own the song "Fascination". The only right I claim is the right to love it. lyric source: /Nat%20King%20Cole%20Lyrics/Fascination%

To Blueneutrino, you can ignore this, (just the whine part). I hope you enjoy it, please, review/comment if you can! Reviews/comments a day keeps an depressed author away. Please, just tell me if you like it in one or two words?

In her bed, Silwen woke, afraid to open her eyes.

"Several of my guests have complained, little Slytherin," he crooned, his red eyes glowing in anger "The Master, Mr. Cullen, Spike, and Dr. Horrible-"

Jolting upright, she stared at Voldemort. "Dr. Horrible...?"

The Dark Lord continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Are all unsatisfied. " Voldemort sat on the bed, his fingers searching for hers. Finding them, be took them out of the blanket and inspected them. Cracks cracked and cut her fingertips, all her fingers were entirely swollen as if stung by a bee, and on elbows, large bruises proudly swelled in a thick circle. On the finger she used to prick Cullen with, a large bruise, too, was smugly sitting on its top. If someone gave over three hours of massages, when she had never done over h, her fingers would suffer. With a sudden bout of strength, she tried to pull away from him, but he clenched his bony fingers, locking hers tightly inside and forced blood out of the cracks. Her eyes shone with tears inside, but she didn't cry.

Smirking, he went on speaking, massaging her fingers, watching her wince every time her pressed down. "Your hands are unfit to redo massages right now. Today you are dismissed from my side in order for them to recuperate. Do not enter the Dining Hall. When the meeting is finished, you will be waiting outside the doors."

Shutting her eyes, Silwen asked, "W-when will t-that be?"

"After I talk to you. That chat will be at exactly eleven o'clock."

She looked at the clock. Right now, it was six in the morning. 15 hours. And for the first three, she decided to go back to sleep. Lying back on her bed, she closed her eyes, positioned her hands so they were comfortable, and went back to sleep. Dreams wove themselves into protective blankets around her and at nine o'clock, she awoke, still feeling the soft fabric of her dreams on her shoulders.

"Hey," came a voice not too far away.

"Hey. Was that you earlier—before he came in?"

"Yes. How are you hands?" asked Draco, concerned.

Smiling at him and sitting up, she responded, "They're—" she looked down and to her surprise, her elbows' bruises were sulking, half their size, every single crack had sealed up, and her fingers had completely deflated.

"Healed," finished Draco smiling. To the question on her face, he responded, "Last night, I visited St. Mungo's via Flewpowder, bought the best slavie I could find from them, and came back. After that, I used the entire jar on your elbows and fingers."

He stood and walked over, sat beside her on the bed, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Thank you," she whispered, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. Draco reached for her hands and delicately held them. Flinching away instinctively, Silwen whispered, leaning against him, "Sorry."

A brief flash of anger ran through Draco. Voldemort had traumatized her so much that a small touch caused Silwen to immediately cringe away. Last night must have been more horrid for her than I'll ever realize, he thought. "It's okay, Sil. It's okay," he murmured to her, glad, at least that she was leaning against him. But he didn't pull her closer, too worried that he might frighten her again. Tentatively, her fingers reached for his and willingly, he responded and held her hand. "I'm so sorry about last night. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

"What matters is that it's over," she replied, exhaling peacefully. You couldn't have done anything to help. "So, how are you here? Why aren't you at the meeting?"

"My father told me that there was an age limit for this meeting," he chuckled. "Edward Cullen had a tantrum when they considered excluding him."

Silwen laughed. "Serves him right. When was he bitten? How old was he?"

"1918, he was 17 years old."

She laughed harder. "So they were going to keep an almost 100year old adolescent out because he was too young?"

"It was my father. He thought that since I wasn't allowed to be present, no adolescent should," Draco answered, laughing as well.

Yawning, she stood up and walked over to a newly-placed dresser.

Silwen blushed, then asked, "Would you mind stepping out for a minute? I just want to change. I'll meet you outside."

Nodding, Draco stood, hugged her briefly, pretended not to notice her momentary freeze, then went outside. It's going to take so much to help her feel safe again. And I think I have an idea of how to help her with it...A small grin slipped over his face as he waited for his friend.

A few minutes later, Silwen emerged in a simple red T-shirt hemmed in golden thread with Gryffindor spelled on the bottom, and comfortable-looking jeans.

"My mother gave you something red?" Draco said, shocked, and very pointedly ignoring the insignia on the dress' bottom. Smiling, Siwen nodded, shyly taking his hand. Encouragingly, he held it, and drew her down the hallway, away from the dreaded Dining Room.

"So, do you have any plans? Or will I have to think of some sort of mischief we can do?" she asked.

"Well, breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Then after, I'd like to...teach you something. Then we can eat lunch, and after that, it's your turn to choose," he said smiling secretly.


The kitchen was cosily unorderly, with two steaming mugs, two plates filled with food, and utensils set on the cutting table in the middle, which was clean. For a second, Draco let go, fetched two chairs from the corner, then sat on one, while Silwen sat on the other.

"This smells delicious, thanks. Who made it?"

"Er...Dr. Horrible..."

"But he complained to him about the massage I gave him last night! Why would he do this the next morning?"

"He told me to tell you that he did like his massage and pretended to complain, 'like a boss', so he could talk to you for a little while in private."

"Oh...How...nice of him," she said after a pause.

"Be careful, Sil. Just because—"

Annoyed, she interrupted him and snapped, "I know. Don't trust strangers. Always be on your guard. ... You sound like Lucie when she worries too much. I'm capable of taking precautions without being told to!"

Draco's mouth hardened. He knew she knew. He knew she was capable. He just...wanted to imply that he cared about her by telling her to be careful. But, he thought, she doesn't want to be coddled and that's what I sounded like.

Cooly, a silence drew, each eating their food with jabs.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you," said Silwen, breaking the silence, offering her fork filled with melted cheese and eggs as a peace offering.

"I shouldn't have made it sound like an order," he said, opening his mouth, putting some of his scrambled eggs and tomato on his fork and entwining his arm around hers.

Simultaneously, they put their forks in each others' mouth, and continued eating normally.

"So now that we're finished, where are we going?" asked Silwen, plate clean.

"Do you trust me?"


"Then don't move," said Draco. He stood up and over her eyes tied a thick Slytherin tie. Blinded by Slytherin, covered by Gryffindor, she mused.

Taking her hand in his, he guided her off the chair. "Do you want me to carry you to your destination? Or would you rather walk?"

"I'll walk, thank you," she replied uncertainly, gripping his hand for balance.

"Don't worry, Sil. I've got you." His hand was strong and firm under her grip.

Slowly, then more quickly, they walked through various halls, through doors and then, "Wait here." He left her for a second, and Silwen heard a small click, creeeaak. Whooosh! A frisky breeze blew through her hair. A hand touched hers and led her through the wind and... "Where?"

"We are on my terrace," he whispered. "Are you cold?"

Despite her desire to refuse, Silwen nodded. The hand holding hers left for a while, only to return to her shoulders, putting a warm thick cloak around her, guiding her through the sleeves.

"Thank you. Now can the blindfold come off now?" she pleaded. Faint music reached her ears. "It was fascination, I know, and it might have ended right then, at the start..."

"You listen to muggle music?"

"Certain songs. This one was recommended."

"By whom?"

"That's a secret."

Silwen cocked her head. Draco had no muggle-born friends. Several half-bloods, but they all denied their heritage. That one. Unless, "Dr. Horrible?"

"Perhaps." Silwen could hear the smile in his voice.

"I still have my blindfold on."

"I'm well aware of that, darling," replied Draco, starting the music over without leaving her side. "I have my mother's wand. She's let me borrow it until I get mine back."

Smirking Silwen responded. "Your mother is very understanding."

Gently, Draco lifted their hands, put his other on her shoulder and slowly began to dance. Hesitantly, Silwen attempted to follow his lead.

"Back right, side left, pause. Forward left, side right, pause," he whispered, pulling her close, sealing the gap between them. He started the song over and slowed the beat.

"1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3..." Draco murmured in her ear.

"Just a passing glance, Just a brief romance..."

And klutzily, she began to step in time, her feet on top of Draco's until she got the rhythm down. The volume of the music, and breeze died down as if turned by a switch, and Draco let her blindfold fall.

"And next moment I kiss you; Fascination turned - to - love..."

Draco picked her up and twirled her around him, smoothly putting her down once more. She is so light. Today must have been her first full meal in weeks. Gazing into her eyes, searching for any sign of fear or even discomfort, he was relieved to find none. Only peace.

"I never said 'Thank you' for my massage..." he whispered.

"You don't have to."

She put her hands to his face, and pulled him down while his own hands gingerly lifted her up, and pressed her lips delicately up to his own. He held more tightly on to her, slightly parting his lips, smiling. A hand ranthrough her thick waves of midnight black hair, holding her head up. Closing her eyes, Silwen exhaled slowly, smiling too, and loving the warmth inside her. Something that hadn't been there for months and months. Ever since last year's Yule Ball.

They waltzed through morning, floating into afternoon after an exquisite lunch, self-prepared, and spent several hours reading Le Mort D'Arthur (Merlin was, after all, in Slytherin) aloud to each other in Draco's expansive library, sitting in a large leather armchair.

At 9 o'clock, when Gwinevere had come running to Arthur for forgiveness, they called a break from reading, and went into the kitchen for dinner. Grinning and blushing when they saw the candlesticks and small feast of gourmet food—creamy leek soup, nutty bread with a crunchy crust and a soft, steaming inside, delicately cooked zuccini with parmesan cheese lightly sprinkled for zest, with garlic, lightly roasted chicken escalops—they sat down and enjoyed the last two hours they had.

"Thank you. I-I haven't been this happy since before—before my uncle...and Lucie..." Silwen looked at her crystal clean plate, smudging it with a salty tear.

"That's why I did it," Draco murmured, lifting her chin up again, and brushing off new tears from her face. "Both of them would have wanted you to be happy today of all days."

"Why? What's today?" she asked sharply, her eyes narrowing.

Grinning arrogantly, he responded, taking her hands in his, "You forgot...You forgot your own birthday. Today's April 22nd, 1998."

Shock jumped on her face. "What?"

Draco got off his chair and hugged her closely. "Happy birthday, Sil."

Her birthday. 17. Her most important birthday. Celebrated without her even knowing. Without Uncle Severus and Lucie. She had thought they'd always be there. She wiped a couple more tears off her face, then whispered, "Promise me you won't die, too."

"Sil, I—"

"Please. I-I won't be able to go on if you go too."

Turning her chair around to face him, he said, his own eyes wet, "All right. I promise. I promise to survive. Silwen Astoria Greengrass Snape, I promise to live for you."

Standing, hugging him back, she murmured in a muffled whisper, "Thank you."

"I love you, Silwen."

"I love you too. Forever and always."

"Oh. I almost forgot. My mother sent me a note to top our date with whipped cream and a cherry on top."

"On top of what?" she asked smiling; she had no idea Narcissa was so witty.

Draco disappeared for a minute then reappeared, holding a beautiful, petite, chocolate cake with a dash of whipped cream and a cherry, and crowned by seventeen small green candlesticks. "Moelleux au chocolat. That's what my mother's note said. The dinner and cake were her gifts to you."

"My favorite cake."

Setting the cake on the table, he handed her a knife. "She knew. I think your uncle told Lucie who told Narcissa just in case something happened and the two of them couldn't make it for you. ... Are you going to make a wish?"

"Of course," she said. Sucking in a large breath of air, she thought, I wish...I wish for the Dark Lord to be defeated. Whoosh! Every candle flame went out in a wisp of smoke. She smirked, satisfied. Let's see if it's going to come true now...

Happy tears glistened like jewels in the soft candlelight as she cut through the cake, amazed at how perfect the texture was—not too hard yet not gooey either—and handed Draco a piece. "So my uncle and Lucie did manage to give me something after all." She cut another one for herself and bit into it. Chocolately heaven entered her mouth and quickly, her slice was gone. Unfortunately, she could hardly eat another bite; she was too stuffed from the dinner.

"I have something else for you. Don't worry, it wasn't that expensive!" said Draco, defensively holding his hands up. When he saw that Silwen was only smiling he asked, "Would you mind closing your eyes again?"

In response, she closed her eyes and felt his hands at her neck, undoing something. She opened her eyes a crack to which Draco whispered, "Not yet!" Then she realized what he was undoing. The locket. The one Voldemort had given her all those months ago. She had forgotten about it, never looking at it since that day, not wanting to use something the Dark Lord had given her.


Silwen opened her eyes and saw in his hand, a new locket. It was beautiful; oval shaped, silver as unicorn's blood, with a jade stone in the middle, it winked at her in the light of the large table candlesticks. She carefully clicked it open and stared longingly at the pictures. In one, her uncle and Lucie smiled, her uncle genuinely smiling, up at her, and on the other side, an empty space. From the old locket lying on the table, she took the photo of her parents, and placed it inside the new one. The picture of her parents seemed to mold to the new locket, much happier in its new home than its old one.

"In my opinion, the locket was the cherry on top."

"Do you want me to put it on you?"

Holding up her hair, she nodded, her green eyes alight and sparkling. Leaning forward, he attached the locket behind her neck. "It matched your eyes perfectly."

"Thank you, Draco. For the locket, for today, for everything," she said and embraced him once more.

"You have one more present. It's an anonymous one that arrived on my bedroom window this morning."

She pulled away from him, silently guessing who is was from, grinning a secret smile. He reached behind himself and pulled out a long, black, skinny box. On it were two notes attached that read, "I love you Sweetie," and, "Thanks for letting me use it. I don't need it anymore. Tell Draco he'll see his own soon. When he apologizes." Snorting, she handed the second note to Draco. And then took the cover off, inhaling sharply. Inside lay a wand. A beautiful wand. Her wand. 12.5 inches, willow, unicorn hair, unyeilding. Potter's fingerprints were still on it, she could see them in the flickering light. Potter must have given it to the 'anonymous' deliverer, who in turn dropped off on Draco's window.

To no one, she whispered, "Thank you." And smiled at Draco who smiled in return. He was simply happy to see her so at peace. She looked so beautiful, the orange aura of the candles glowing on her ivory skin, putting a small fire in her eyes. Eyes that once seemed dead or afraid of the smallest sound. Seeing her happy, knowing he was a big part in making her so was very possibly the best fact and feeling in the world.

And to have it all shatter, the antique kitchen clock started to chime eleven o'clock.

Author's second note: I know that Arthur's wife's name isn't spelled like that, but rather, "Guinevere". I just like how the "w" looks instead of "u" in the spelling, even though it sounds the same.

Also, for further reference about Silwen's wand returning, read my Dr. Who one-shot entitled, "Silwen's Guardian Angel."