A/N: I DO NOT own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I'm really excited to get to rewriting this story, it's one of my favorites!

Demons in the Night

"Quick! Get your sisters, and get out of the house now!"

Billie's heart pounded in her chest as her mouth shook her violently, pulling her from under her bedspread and to her feet erratically. Even without knowing what was happening, the tone of his mother's voice sent her heart racing in panic as she glanced at her through wide eyes.

"Mom what is it?" she asked, her mother grabbing her body violently and pushing her towards the door.

"Just listen to me Billie! You get your sisters and get out of the house, and don't you come back." Her mother hissed, pushing her down the hall towards her sisters room. As she did so, Billie could hear the sound of voices from the downstairs, and her breath hitched in her throat, fear clutching at her tightly.

"Mom, don't leave!" she shouted, grasping at her mother as she made her way for the staircase. Her mother said nothing, pushing her back sharply before running down the stairs.

Dashing to her sisters bedroom, Billie threw the door open, slamming it behind her and looked around as she found her two young sisters, one three and the other seven cowering in the corner, expressions of panic written all over their innocent faces.

"Come on!" Billie said, rushing over to the two and grabbing Sarah, the youngest and the hand of Bethany.

Bethany opened her mouth and began to cry, sensing danger in the air and Billie grasped at Sarah tightly, putting a hand no her blonde head as the sound of many footsteps caught her attention.

Whatever was happening, the home invaders were making their way onto the second floor. Billie knew there was no way she could get the girls downstairs and out of the house, so, she thought quickly, grabbing them tightly and running across the room.

Throwing open the closet, she pushed them inside, setting Sarah down carefully as she wailed loudly.

"Stay in here, and be quiet. Bethany, make sure no one can hear her, do you understand me?" she hissed, before rearranging the clothes and shutting the doors.

Flicking off the lightswitch, she gasped as she saw the shadow of footsteps on the other side of the door. Quickly crawling beneath Sarah's bed, she pulled a pile of clothes in front of her, hiding her form listening carefully to the sounds coming from outside.

It was her mother's idea to spend the summer in England, taking a break from the chaotic bustle of New York City. She had described the potential trip a chance for the quaint and peaceful life, away from the chorus of honking taxicabs, the scent of sex and degradation, and the overall exhaustion from city life.

So far, the last few weeks had been spent exploring the beauty of Great Britain, taking in the glorious silence that had long been gone from their lives, and relishing the time together as a family.

The day ended like any other. Billie's mother had put the girls to bed and her parents prepared for a night at one of the local pubs. Billie sat down with a book, set on studying for her pre-law course when she returned to American to start her freshman year at New York University.

Then, all peace and tranquility was shattered with an explosion in the night, as lights of different color blazed within their rented home, and men masked in black robes that spoke loudly for their cruelty and malice.

Billie was jolted from her studies as she heard her father's voice from the downstairs, screaming in muffled tones before going silent. Panic rising in her chest, she waited until her mother came in and got her, telling her to grab her sisters and flee.

As she listened from under the bed, she closed her eyes, wondering if this entire ordeal was really a nightmare. Billie had always had extremely realistic lucid dreams. What if this was just another, and she was asleep peacefully in her bed while her parents enjoyed a glass of wine downstairs and her sisters played with their dolls?

But something told her she could pinch herself all she wanted, this was all too real. The dust gathering in her nostrils from beneath the bed told her that this, was in fact reality, a very dangerous reality.

"Please, we've done nothing wrong, I beg you! You were lied to!"

Billie turned her head sharply a she heard her mother cry out, her blood running cold.

The wife of a Desert Storm vet, Billie's mother was known for her resolve, staying cool under any kind of pressure. But now, even through and wall and under the bed, Billie could hear the desperation and fear in her voice, and she knew, that this was not something her mother would negotiate them out of.

"Foolish Muggle! You cannot lie to me." Hissed a shrill voice that turned Billie's ice to blood. Involuntarily she inhaled, holding her breath and tried to keep herself from screaming aloud at the words.

Even through her fear though, the term Muggle tore her attention from the possibility of her mother's death, and to the word that sounded so foreign, so unfamiliar.

Yet in all their unfamiliarity, a bell of disbelief rang in her head as she thought about the stories her parents told her years ago as a child, stories of wizards and witches living among them in secrecy, magical creatures, and spells and potions that could make everything alright.

As a child, Billie had relished these tales, sitting in her parents arms and finding freedom in the belief that somewhere in the world, maybe even right next to her invisible, were magical creatures.

Like every childish belief though, Billie grew up, she grew wise, and dumped her childish fantasies trading them for in for realistic practicality.

But now, she began to wonder, if everything about the practical and impractical she had come to learn was muddled about. There was no possible way that witches and wizards in the sense of true magic could exist. Of course there was Wiccan culture and religion, but true magical beings, like the ones her parents had told her about? It was simply impossible? Why? Because it simply was.

"I swear on my life, please, leave us be!" her mother cried out, and Billie raked her nails against the floor before crawling from out under the bed and rushing across the room, adrenaline coursing through her body. This could not be real, in any way shape or form.

Grasping the doorknob, she ripped the door open and made her way outside, running to the next room, which belonged to her parents.

Standing before her, were three men, wearing dark robes and masks that shot a jolt of fear through her. In the corner was a forth, more creature then man, hunched over with shredded clothes and mangy hair, caked with dirt and all sorts of filth she did not want to imagine.

In his arms, was Billie's mother, clutched tightly between his black fingernails, whimpering silently. As Billie watched, he grabbed one of her breasts, before sticking out his tongue and running it up the side of her neck, lewdly.

Forgetting the extent of the situation, Billie's temper flared as she stepped into the room boldly, chest heaving as rage coursed through her. Her mother was a proud woman, who stood for her beliefs as a Christian, and took pride in that fact that her husband was the first and only man to ever touch her. Her ideology constantly caused argument between her and Billie, but Billie admired the way she stood for herself either way, and watching her there, fondled carelessly in the hands of some beast, Billie lost all care and control.

"Take your hands of her!" she screeched, digging her fingernails into her palms and feeling crescent moons form beneath her fingers.

All eyes turned toward her, and Billie's mother gasped in horror, mouthing the word "no".

"And what do we have here?" a pretentious voice drawled behind one of the masks, turning toward Billie and staring at her in a way that made her twitch slightly.

"We should kill the girl first. It will that one a lesson about lying to the Dark Lord." Another mask spoke, nodding his head toward Billie's mother.

"What do you want with us?" she demanded bravely, stepping forward and hoping, just hoping, that if it came down to it, the men would take her life in exchange for her mother's.

At eighteen, she had lived a relatively decent life, free of the troubles that came with adulthood and the stresses that came with maturity. Do die now, would mean she led a good life, but more so than that, her sisters would still have a mother.

Billie had always adamantly believed that no parent should have to bury their child, but when it came to the lives of two innocent young girls, she knew they would be better off with a mother.

"I do not believe that is any of your concern girl." The first voice spat once more.

"Hurry this up, I'm starving, and this one is smelling might fine." The animal holding her mother growled, opening his mouth to reveal rotting teeth that lingered just near her mother's neck.

"W-wait! Please, take me instead. Kill me, just let her go!" Billie pleaded, silently praying to God for the first time in her life.

Suddenly, the room fell silent, and Billie's mother began to buck against her captor wildly.

"No! NO! Don't listen to her, kill me! Get the hell out of here Billie!" her mother cried, staring her daughter in the eyes.

"Don't listen to her! Kill me!" Billie shot back before one of the men stepped forward.

"Silence!" he bellowed, and Billie found herself unable to speak.

"You'll have your turn facing death." He hissed, before pulling out a brown stick and pointing it at Billie's mother. "Aveda Kedavra!" he hissed, and Billie watched a green light shot from the stick towards her mother, before hitting her square in the chest.

Her pleading eyes went dead, before she slumped to the ground, lifeless. Horror remained embedded on her face, and Billie began to hyperventilate, feeling as though a part of her had just been sheared off of her body. Suddenly, she felt hollow, empty, as though missing a limb, and unable to feel or think, she fell to her knees, face burning as tears pricked the back of her eyes.

The images began to flood her mind. Her mother, teaching her how to swing for the first time. Baking a pie with her. Getting the annoying abstinence lectures that always led to a fight between the two. The warm embraces that made her feel safe from the world. Her mother's lips, lingering on her cheek as she whispered "I love you".

"No. she croaked, leaning over and letting go of life as she silently pleaded to God to bring her death. Her mother was gone, she had just lost all sense of security in the world.

Shaking her head, she tried to still the memories, lips quivering as tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her face. Losing control, she let the sobs begin to wrack her body, listening to the sound of cackles around her and praying for death, to join her mother once more.

The unmistakable sound of something hitting the wall next door grabbed Billie's attention, and she felt herself pale, remembering the two young souls hidden in the closet next door.

"More Muggles Fenrir?" one of the men asked, and the shabby man lifted his nose, sniffing visibly before a terrifying grin crossed his face.

"Children." He hissed, dropping the body of Billie's mother to the floor and stepping past her, the smell of blood and old sweat wafting into her nostrils.

"No! No no no no no!" Billie wailed, forcing herself onto the ground and grasping at his filthy robes and clutching them tightly.

Her 130 pounds seemed to go unnoticed as he simply dragged her along the ground with his robes, throwing open the door the girls room and growling loudly.

"Please don't hurt them!" she pleaded, and he turned around, before yanking his robes from her grasp and shedding his clothing.

Thoughts of rape began to fill Billie's mind, before things took a different turn and the man's body began to shift, face elongating and bones cracking loudly.

Hair began to sprout on his skin, which slowly turned into a leathery hide covered in fur, and he grew taller, legs transforming into haunches, ears growing in length, and mouth forming into a muzzle.

Staggering backwards, Billie gasped in horror as before her very eyes, the man turned into a wolf, a werewolf to be exact, just like out of a movie it seemed. Opening the closet door with one of his paws, he tossed items of clothing inside, and the whimpers of two young girls grew louder.

Billie found herself frozen, unable to move, speak, or even breathe as she remained rooted firmly on the ground, watching as he pulled the two little girls out like little rag dolls, and threw them to the ground.

"Billie!" Bethany screamed, only to be silenced when he opened his large jaws, and sank his sharp teeth into her neck, blood spurting from the wound.

Sarah screamed, and he began to shake wildly, breaking her neck as blood continued to gush from her neck. Eyes rolled in the back of her head, she fell limp, and Billie watched as he tore his mouth away, flesh pulled from her skin along with muscle and sinew, which stretched out like some sort of goo.

"Come back here you." A hand grabbed her, and she felt herself being dragged, unable to do anything but watch Sarah's limp body as she was pulled back into other room where the rest of the men and her dead mother's corpse lay.

Falling to the floor unceremoniously, Billie closed her eyes, sinking into the carpet as she lay on her side, fibers from the carpet tickling her nostrils with each breath.

"Shame. Such a beautiful girl. Filthy blood." Someone said, pointing a wand into the back of her head so hard that it dug into her skin.

"Aveda Kedav-"

"STOP!"

The shrill voice pulled Billie from her stupor and she opened her eyes, sitting up and peering from long locks of her dark brown hair at the man who stood at the doorway, hand outstretched and red eyes upon her.

To say he was a man, would be stretching the truth, for as Billie sat there before him, she could find no human characteristics in his reptilian-like features. He skin was pale, white as a sheet and seemed stretched too tight over his thin body that disappeared beneath black robes. Looking up at his face, what Billie thought to initially be a case of Albinism, betrayed her as she set her eyes upon his disfigured face, absent of a nose it would seem, with thin lips and red eyes that seemed to belong to Satan himself.

"Is something wrong My Lord? I was disposing of the girl, she is the last one left." The mask behind her said.

The pale man turned upon him, as if mechanically and spoke in a soft voice, high-pitched and col.

"What reason have we to spill such…beautiful blood." He replied, before turning back to Billie, stepping toward her and extending a pale hand, thin fingers outstretched.

She shied away immediately, body tensing in horror.

"Just kill me." She shook her head.

If Billie were to make it out of this ordeal alive, what point would it serve, she wondered? In a matter of moments she had lost everything. Her parents, sisters, love and stability.

She had a few relatives back in the states, an uncle who was an alcoholic. Cousins who belonged to a Mormon sect. Family members, scattered across the United States with various problems rooted so deep that she had not seen them since her birth, if ever.

"Kill you? You do not fear death?" the pale man asked, cocking his head to the side quizzically.

"Death can be better than living." She responded, looking down at the ground and twitching as one of his cold fingers came in contact with her jawline, stroking the skin lightly.

His touch sent the sensation of licking a battery through her body, and she shivered, skin tingling as he retracted his hand.

"This…girl…will come with us." He said, looking around at the masked men in the room before leaving, his robes trailing the floor behind him.

"Can't wait to see what he has planned for you." One of the men said, lifting her up roughly and tossing her over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

Stepping into the hall, they made their way past the bedroom of the girls, and Billie peered in as a dark figure looked up, eyes reflected in the darkness with the intestines of a small girl hanging from his mouth.

With a sigh, darkness took over, and Billie slumped over the shoulder of her captor, escaping into the world of unconsciousness, and delving into the deep black.

Lord Voldemort looked down, gazing intently at the sleeping form on the bed beside him, pale eyelids closed and framed by thick brown lashes. As her chest rose and fell, he studied her features. The bridge of her straight nose, her pink lips and arched eyebrows, rose cheeks and pale skin.

She was something to behold, with intoxicating beauty that seemed to pull him in, making its way into his mind and snaring him with long tentacles and embedding thoughts of kisses and her scent in his head. By far, she was the most beautiful girl he had seen in all his days, from every land he had been to, and every human he had ever seen.

Her skin glowed unnaturally, so pale that it almost matched his own, and long dark brown curls sprung from her head, fanning out on the pillow like a halo, a halo that belonged to an angel.

Cut off from humanity and free of human emotion and feeling, Voldemort found his newfound desire for this girl both an intriguing surprise, and disgusting habit that caused loathing to well within him. In his moment of glory, after taking the lives of those meddling Muggles, he found himself staring down at her with such strong desire he could not bear to see her killed, and in that, found a weakness in himself that he did not know existed.

He was horrified and appalled by his choice, but one look into her striking green eyes mesmerized him, and like a powerful spell, he found himself unable to harm her.

That night, when he stepped into the Muggle home, he felt nothing but loathing for the filth that resided there, the traitors who had revealed secrets of the magical world to fellow Muggles, and seeing the face of his beloved father as he always did around Muggles, sadistic bloodlust began to boil within him.

He had killed the man without remorse, staring upon his dead face with curiosity before making his way up the steps to check on his faithful Death Eaters, but in the midst of his desire to kill, one glance at the girl held the monster at bay, and he could not bring himself to do that which needed to be done, not even at the hand of someone else.

As Voldemort silently contemplated his weakness and failure, the monstrous snake he held in close confidence slid into the room, flicking her tongue out wildly and slithering against the hardwood floor to her master.

"Hello my dear." He hissed, feeling at ease in the presence of the creature who had become the closest thing he ever had to a friend.

Flicking out her tongue in excitement she hissed, glancing up at Voldemort with eager eyes as she silently hinted at the meal on the bed.

"No Nagini, she is not for you." Voldemort said with a smile, turning back to the girl and ignoring the questions from his companion.

Leaning forward, she grabbed one of her curls, bending over and inhaling the sensual scent of amber that caused him to shudder wildly.

Despite the paleness of her skin, she radiated heat like nothing he had ever felt before, and for the first time in a long time, Voldemort found himself in sinful proximity with a woman.

The amber scent wafted from her hair and off her body as well, rising from the smooth white skin that Voldemort longed to touch and feel. Her long neck was tilted slightly, and he could not help but gaze at her throat lustily, wanting to feel the steady beat of her pulse.

Several sharp raps at the door suddenly drew his attention, and Voldemort stood up, walking across the room and throwing the door open to find himself face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange, dark hair piled on top of her head messily.

"I did not summon you." He hissed angrily at her, knowing her true meaning for being there. The woman's irritating infatuation spurred her faithful devotion, and while Voldemort certainly considered her an incredible asset to his followers, outside of her magical talent and the work she had done, he felt nothing but loathing for her.

The way she gazed upon him with wide doe eyes, he could hear the thoughts running through her head that she made no attempt to hide. She was weak in her foolish infatuation, acting more like a prepubescent girl around him than the killer he wanted and needed.

"Yes My Lord, I simply came to see if you would like me to take care of the body of the young woman." She licked her lips, eyes shining with admiration that made his blood boil.

"I have no intentions of disposing of the girl's body, as I have no need for your intolerable appearance before me. Leave, before I lose my patience." He hissed, watching in satisfaction as Bellatrix colored a nasty shade of red, rejection climbing into her very veins.

The arrogance slid off her face like melted butter, and without a word, she bowed her head before departing, leaving Voldemort to his two pets.

Closing the door, he turned to the sleeping form on the bed, eyes still closed as she slumbered deeply.

As he continued to study her, he let his eyes move from her face, to the curvy hourglass figure outlined by her clothing. She had large breasts and wide thighs, with a slim waist and flat stomach that brought thoughts about in Voldemort's mind that he had not thought about in a very long time.

She looked so pure and innocent, yet her luscious body spoke a different story, and he found himself resisting the urge to peel her clothing from her skin and gaze upon her nude body, studying her pink nipples and silky skin.

In essence, with her dark beauty, she reminded him of the Greek goddess Persephone, lover to Hades, God of the Underworld. Voldemort had never been one to bother himself with Muggle traditions in religion, but he would never forget some of the things he had learned as a child, and Greek Mythology was one of them. He was intrigued by this God of the Underworld, who harbored the souls of the damned and gaze himself over to a beautiful woman, from a different world.

He did not believe in love, but he certainly believed in the power of desire, something he had dabbled with as Tom Riddle, and considered a weakness.

Sex had brought down men and wizards alike, clouding their judgment with thoughts of the heaven between a woman's legs, and Voldemort believed himself above human emotion and desire, but staring upon this girl, he silently looked upon her as his Persephone, beautiful Goddess of the above, and himself as Hades, Lord of Death.

He wanted her, and Lord Voldemort, always got what he wanted.