~*~Clones~*~
The King waited for no one and Severus was not an exception. At exactly two-fifteen in the afternoon, when his sitting room was lit up by the brightness of the sun, his Dark Mark flared with an angry red tinge and he clenched his jaw to remain silent.
"You can't go back to your haven until I have cleared your existence. Rodolphus saw you, he knows you came with me. I have to give the Dark Lord a head or we'll both be targeted. We have no choice." he continued, coming to stand on the other side of the fuming brunette, his left hand in a fist behind his back. It had been so long since he had felt it so acutely. Miss Granger appeared to be somewhat of a time-turner to his state of mind.
"I can't let you sacrifice a squib for me. It's not right!" she replied, her will unflinching under his words as she stared at the unconscious woman before them. It seemed his lapses of late did not affect her ability to argue for people's fates. He was glad, he couldn't have her seeing him in some semi-romantic pity all the time. He did feel lighter though.
"What do you want me to do? Drag you to the King and declare to all and sundry that the rebellion is alive and well?"
They had been arguing over this for a while now, longer than he deemed necessary, but the Gryffindor bleeding heart would not stop. Severus supposed he should have expected as much from the girl who wanted wages for house elves, but he found himself hoping the brilliant eleven year old that solved his riddle would show herself to still be present inside this world-weary and war-hardened witch.
The woman before them was a criminal and a thief, both of which the Dark Lord had asked to be brought in to him. Goldie Amalat was guilty of filching supplies as well as Granger, and Severus had been lucky enough to know where she was hiding out. It was merely a matter of fooling the skittish woman to allow him inside her hideout. She was partnered with a proper wizard, who hadn't been in attendance at the moment of entry. Severus had had to silence her to cease her screeching for Wilbur.
Having ensconced Granger in the upstairs room, Severus quickly secured Goldie and after the woman's banshee-like screaming had alerted her to his return, the Gryffindor woman had rushed downstairs to rejoin him. Upon seeing the trussed-up woman in the chair she had first occupied, their argument began.
"There must be another way! I can't let you do this." Her continued pleading sent a tick through his jaw as he clenched his teeth and looked away.
"Fine. If this will not suit you, come up with a better option." he offered, raising his eyes to meet hers and holding his breath as his mark blazed firmly against his skin. He could not postpone much longer.
Something must have flickered across his face because her tawny eyes drifted down to his half-hidden arm and then she frowned at him with pursed lips. For a split second, he was sure she was about to step towards him.
"Are you being summoned?" Her voice held a tone he found bizarrely familiar. Was she reprimanding him for not telling her?
"It is not of your concern, I asked for a better option." He hardened his face against the burn and her question, but she was stubborn.
"If he's calling, why haven't you gone? You could be punished."
It would have made him sneer before to hear those words from someone who actually meant them for the care they were, but it lightened his chest to hear them now. It had been a long time since someone had genuinely worried after him. Albus had been the one...well, even McGonagall had been there to wonder if he was alright. But that had all faded with the fall.
"What does it matter?" he asked, a force of habit to deny care even when he had already accepted it.
"It matters if you get punished! You're the only one on the inside, the only one of the Light still alive in his court. If you fall we won't be able to ever vanquish him." She stepped closer to him and he felt the weight settle back on his chest.
Of course that was why there was concern. Why would anyone care if he was actually a person and not a pawn between the deserting white and the impenetrable black? They would cast him aside if he wasn't useful, what would it matter then? A scowl formed on his face and he drew his wand, righting his clothing and equipping his mask. Forget other options, he'd made up his mind.
"Step back." he ordered, flicking his wand at the woman and she was suddenly in the same attire as Granger.
The red shirt and the black pants didn't quite look as appealing on this woman, but he really didn't care. He waved his wand in an arc and muttered a quick spell which removed the bonds from the chair but tightened them around her limbs. He could sense his companion bristling as she realized what was happening, but he reached down and tugged the unconscious woman to him. With her weight hanging slightly on his arm, Severus spun on the spot and Apparated away.
The Dark Lord had been borrowing or commandeering homes throughout the time he was setting up his takeover, but after the battle turned and he became the King, he had built, from the ground up, his own home. There was so much magic weaved into the very wood and stone that the whole area hummed with the power of it. No one would be able to take this place while the King lived.
It wasn't the size of Malfoy Manor or quite as broodingly dark as the Lestrange's but it had its own charm. Severus would admit it only to himself, but he preferred this home to his own or any of the richly-inherited Pureblood residences. The grounds were decked out with beautiful flowers and a winding garden path laid out in flat smooth white stones. There was a misconception among the Light that all of the Dark must live in the dark, but he found the King's home more colorful and inviting than any he had seen. Their King was subtle in his furnishings in the spacious rooms and large-paned windows with vaulted wood ceilings that gave off the opulence of a king's manor adorned the entire complex. The wood floors were adorned with beautifully decorated Persian carpets and mahogany desks or plumply cushioned chairs with emerald green velvet fabric.
The King was seated at his self-created throne, which was in the rather large ballroom in the east wing. The seat was high-backed, crystallized dark silver, gleaming and catching the light like no jewel ever made. Decorated all along its edges with twisting, turning serpents, and shimmering eyes of rubies, emeralds, sapphires and canary diamonds, it was a sight to behold. Nagini was granted a special groove up the front of the left arm of the throne, with which she could slither up to her master's shoulders. She was nowhere in sight.
The ballroom itself was as spacious as the rest of the manor, though more so. It had sparkling floors of polished dark wood and ivory-gold walls with accents of amethyst in the way of thick satin drapes that were tied to either side of the three balcony doors. Today, the sun shone like a torch onto the reflective surface of the floor and cast a beam of light across the King's pale face.
This ballroom was used annually as the setting for the Triumph Ball, the yearly celebration of the Light's defeat. One was upcoming in a few months time, always a spot for the play-makers in this game of fools. No doubt there would be a collage of wedding invitations afterwards, all for money and status and a buggering waste of his time.
Severus advanced to the center of the semi-circle of his brethren fanned out before the King. The cat-like eyes of their sovereign gazed out serenely past the few in his presence as they met the Slayer's.
"Ah, Severus. Come at last, I see. Any particular reason for the delay?" His voice was ice cold and deathly, sending a tingle down his spine. Severus hadn't felt the fear in so long and it made him falter.
He looked at the floor before he could stop himself and he could almost feel the King's eyes narrow. Calming himself, Severus raised his head again and met the man's ruby orbs as he had these past four years; straight, fearless, obedient.
"She was an unruly captive, your highness. Her mask was spell-based and caster-removed. I, however, found the loophole of a backup potion and administered it. I was forced to relieve her of consciousness before I could answer your call, my king, I apologize." Severus found many faults in his own voice and grit his teeth against the ice that radiated from around him.
Murderers, rapists and betrayers all. The frost of hell came from within them.
"Hm, interesting. I have never known you to struggle with a prisoner before. Perhaps the strain of being Headmaster has become too much?" the king replied, pressing two long white fingers against his lipless mouth.
Meeting the man's eyes with a flat, lifeless stare, Severus ignored the jitters from his so-called brethren.
"It was not all this woman, my king. Frankly, I would welcome students with brains behind their new robes and Galleons. How is one to teach those who do not wish to learn?"
Chuckling lightly and sitting forward, the sovereign gazed deeply into Severus' onyx eyes, dazzling, charming and enrapturing. As he fell into the small contest, letting himself be looked through, there were images suddenly flying past his mind's eye.
A cold morning, his hair sparkling with dew as he watched the supplies. The lifting of the flap, his advance with Rodolphus. The man quirking a brow, running. Chasing the two down the alley, the vanishing of the man, bargaining over the woman. His gift home, the woman tied to the chair, screaming for Wilbur. Administering the potion, watching the mask fade, this woman's face revealed. Her yelling, spelling her to unconsciousness. A lull before the Mark flared, looking up the stairs, a soft smile to his lips.
Severus jerked, suddenly knowing what it felt like to want to hide something again. Intrigued by this show of defiance, the King switched gears and charged after that hidden thought with fervor. The chase was on and the pressure became a great weight on his brain. The red-eyed fiend was forcing his magic into Severus' mind. The Slayer became frantic, knowing he couldn't keep this up if he wished to remain unscathed. Anger conveyed easily as the elusive thought escaped the sovereign. He would be punished, this was disregarding his duty. This was very dangerous. Seeing the end of the road, Severus finally let the hidden thought be shown.
A woman with long, curly chestnut hair sits on the edge of a soft bed. He enters the room and she peers up at him with shining emerald eyes. A small smile grows on her lips and he moves toward her, closing the door.
Severus was suddenly alone in his own head and he took a breath before meeting the King's eyes again. His mind had conjured a memory that didn't exist and it had got most of it wrong. Granger didn't have emerald eyes. He forced himself to be subservient.
"Well, well. Keeping secrets now, are we, Severus? When did you find the fortune to secure her?" The icy voice was tainted with curious mirth at the unforeseen thought.
Surprised that he wasn't immediately Crucio'ed, Severus cleared his throat before he spoke. "She found me, your highness. It was...last fall," He had to be quick and he could not falter. "When that boy Damasca fell to his death in a Quidditch game. She is the boy's older sister."
Thinking behind those bloody eyes, the king frowned. "This long and you have not spoke a word of it? I am disappointed in you, Slayer."
The beasts around him waited for a moment to strike, to unleash their hatred on his flesh for the excitement it granted their veins. He eyed them out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise gave them little more than a passing thought. There was only one beast in this room he need fear and it was best if he did not show any.
"My apologies, my king. I did not deem it worthy of your notice. If I had known..." He felt the hand that raised to silence him before he actually saw it and closed his mouth on any further words.
"Enough. You will bring her to the Yule Ball and all shall be forgiven. I do hope she is a sight better than your last paltry affair. What was her name again?" Feigning a moment of confusion, the king quipped, "Ah, yes. Lily Evans Potter."
Laughter hung from the rafters, and the makers with it, he growled within his head. Affecting a nonchalant and completely unfazed reaction, Severus met the fiend's eyes once more and chuckled along with the demons of this stylish hellhole.
"I assure you, my king, she is much better. Smarter, prettier and more apt to follow you than the shadows of that thrice-damned Dumbledore." He was sure the last part wasn't true, but he felt himself damning Albus again and again for the part that was.
The room bristled at the sound of that name after so long, but the haughty leader before them chuckled and clapped. "Good. I wish to see her beside you at the Ball. Give Wormtail the woman and return to your...paramour."
Skittering out of the nothing that was the back of the throne, Wormtail relieved Severus of his burden and scurried off again without a backwards glance.
He wasn't exactly sure what was going through his mind as he Apparated back to his manor home and stepped towards the liquor cabinet. His movements felt jerky and waterlogged, almost as though he were swimming in molasses. He didn't notice anything or anyone until he'd poured and downed two wine glasses of Firewhisky. When his throat was burning and his head was pounding from the lack of quality air, he spun and inexplicably found his preferred chair.
A voice worked its way through the encumbered air around his ears and he lazily turned his head to see the speaker.
Dressed in a long black shirt and pants that she must have taken from a closet somewhere, she was standing by the entry into the large sitting room, her hands pressed against the side panel delicately. As she nervously licked her lips, they glistened momentarily and caught his eye. He saw the darkest parts of her tawny eyes flicker with worry.
"Sir, are you alright?"
Groaning and closing his eyes, Severus turned away and sunk further down in the cushions so he could lay his heavy head on the back of the chair. He felt notably petulant and completely exhausted. Why on earth did caring feel more draining than his blatant despondency? He let himself turn to jelly in the chair and sighed.
"I thank you for the care, Miss Granger, but I do not require it." He felt his lips move but the sound was delayed and his hair fell to his cheeks, eliciting a muffled snort from him.
Suddenly she was before him and soft hands pressed into his shoulders, he shuddered at the contact. "Are you alright, sir? You don't look well. Did...was it quick?" Her voice was quiet and yet loud all at once.
Shifting to his left and lifting a lead arm to block his eyes, Severus pulled his legs closer to the chair and bumped into hers. He stilled his movements and cracked open one eye behind the shield of his forearm.
"Just go back up to the room and rest, we'll talk tomorrow."
He felt her maneuver past him, her soft scent wafting up to his sensitive nose and she lifted her hand from his shoulder. She leaned down to his ear, gentle and soft. He felt her breath on his face.
"You're as bad as Ron. I'll let you brood, but at least be sober when you say we'll talk." She spoke to him gently and he nodded reluctantly. "I'm locking the cabinet, so don't get the urge to unlock it. I don't have a wand, remember?"
He did, but only partially. He was way too tired to really think about...oh, yes. He remembered now. He was surprised she didn't attack him and claw his eyes out for the atrocity.
"I've broken your wand. I am truly sorry." he tried to infuse his voice with the sincere regret he felt and he was sure it succeeded.
A small smile came to her face again and he watched her latch the cabinet, pirouetting almost to glance back at him.
"I didn't have one before I got my letter and I did fine...It's not so bad to be kind of muggle again."
Something in her eyes made him pause and he wondered what she was thinking. He had been so caught up with himself since she appeared that he never really stopped to imagine what she had been through since the fall. Part of him wondered if he should ask, but her face was already closed off as though she had recognized her own melancholy and sought to hide it. She had forgiven him quicker than anyone he had ever had to convince and she was almost kind in her treatment of him, like a muggle vet with an injured dog. It made him feel like laughing and he silently groaned again at the rush of blood to his head.
"Good night, Professor." her voice was somehow far away again and he lifted up slightly to look over his shoulder at her retreating form.
"I'm not a Professor anymore, stop calling me that." he protested, coiling back into the seat.
"Oh," she began, fading off into the dark beyond the living room. "I didn't know you liked being called the Slayer, forgive me. Good night, Slayer."
He raised again to protest but she was already gone.
"WHAT?!" echoed across the dining room as his announcement sank in.
He'd been expecting an outburst, but his ears couldn't withstand the level of screech she attained. He buried his head in his arms on the table and grunted as an affirmative. He hadn't been able to stay away from the liquor cabinet and he'd downed the first bottle before losing equilibrium on opening the second and decided it was time to pack it in. His brooding lasted as long as his consciousness and when he woke to the rays of the sun, he had forgotten what he was so fussy over to begin with.
A quick hangover potion had done the trick but he still felt an aversion to loud noises or bright lights of any kind. He had always been that way, but alcohol simply enhanced the dislike.
This conversation had begun when he fielded the questions about Goldie and what had happened to her. His response had simply been, "Whatever the King wishes.". It had taken a very long time for her to do anything but glare at him. He wondered if she would eventually realize there was nothing to be done for it. He had watched countless amounts of people fall out of necessity. He had been the hand that fell them more often than not.
Thanks to the benefit of being granted house elves, breakfast was laid out before them with jams, butter, even orange and pumpkin juice. The sausage still sizzled, the bacon was crisp and flavorful, the eggs steamed and the bread was soft and delectable.
He only wished it was palatable at the moment.
"What do you mean you let him see me? What...what kind of plan was that?!"
Shaking his head, he glared up at her with his black eyes. Severus sighed with annoyance. "He would have found you anyway...he was relentless. I couldn't stop him, so I gave him what he wanted to see...a woman." He omitted the fact that it had been his lapse that had caused him to see anything other than a thief woman being interrogated. "He took to the idea that someone finally caught my eye after..." Hesitating, he looked away. "At any rate, it's done. You'll have to come with me to the Yule Ball."
"But...but..." she sputtered, wringing her hands together and standing from the table. Her napkin fell to the floor from her lap, fluttering like a feather to the ground behind her. "I can't stand in front of him. I can't pretend to be his new female groupie...I can't do that to Harry."
"You say can't, a lot. Besides, you would be doing this for Potter. How better to help the Order than from the inside? You said yourself I was the difference between winning or losing. How about you even the odds?"
He wished he had a camera handy or some way to capture the look on her face as he spun her own words against her. Wrapped in a black, fluffy dressing gown that he had transfigured, she was like a clucking bird-of-prey standing at the end of the long dining table. Scooping some sausage and egg into his plate, Severus watched her fight for words. Her incommunicable point was stuck like rock in her chest and she glanced at his amused face before huffing and sitting back down.
"I...what am I supposed to do or be or..?" She sipped from her orange juice, then took one heaving breath to calm down. Once she had deflated and thought more clearly, she began to bite her lip. "What does he expect? Who am I supposed to be?"
Severus understood her point and downed his pumpkin juice before speaking. "I told him you were the elder sister to a young boy who fell to his death last fall in a Quidditch game. No one was quick enough to stop his descent and he broke his neck on impact. There was nothing to do."
"That's dreadful!" she groaned, looking on the verge of tears over it. He went to berate her for it, but she continued. "Did he even have a sister?" she asked him, curling her fork in the feathery light eggs before bringing it to her mouth. He blinked and looked away from the sight when a rush went up his chest.
"Not that I know of, but his family was always secretive and hidden. The fact that he came to Hogwarts at all is a precedence. The Damascas usually don't fare well in luck, most have died in freak accidents or slight missteps. They destroyed records of their own family out of spite to some of the more shadier members who offended them in one way or another. There is no way for anyone to prove you are or aren't a Damasca." he refilled his plate and dug in hungrily, wanting to finish eating and get back to work. He'd been on and off the past day or so and he was sure the school would be cinders and ash by the time he returned.
"Okay. Any other information about impending doom I need to know?" she asked, pushing her plate away and crossing her arms tightly.
"Well, he did get the impression that we were together." he added his fingers in a quoting gesture and went to scoop some eggs onto his fork.
With less than a whistle as a warning, a hand came out of the blue and his head almost whipped around completely on his shoulders. He was quite sure he'd never been slapped so hard by one human being in his entire life. He wondered how much his spy senses had atrophied since the fall. Four years ago he would have at least noticed her hand rearing back. Now he stared in abstract shock as the pain bloomed across his cheek.
"Oh." She gasped and suddenly seemed frightened. He realized belatedly that she didn't have a wand. He held up his hands and she flinched back. After a moment to digest the rush of both shame and sorrow that defensive action caused, he spoke.
"Next time, I'll dodge."
Miss Granger had never laughed in his presence unless he including the dying strains he overheard from inside his classroom. He hoped he heard it again before all this madness was over.
A/N: I uploaded this from my IPhone, so let me know if there is anything off. Sorry I didn't post yesterday. My weekends are a frenzy of activity. Please review. Tickle2Kill.
