Go the Distance

Go the Distance

In case there was any doubt, I don't own the Harry Potter series or any recognizable characters. But thank you for the compliment.

Also thank you to everyone who reviewed.

Severus glared at the spot on the floor. If whoever had spilled whatever it was had just wiped it up when it had happened, there wouldn't be a problem. But no, whoever it was had just left it there, and now he'd just spent an hour scrubbing at it to absolutely no avail. If he had his wand…well, if a Scourgify would have done something then he suspected that the house elves would have cleaned in awhile back, but at least he'd be able to try something besides this stupid sponge. If he'd dared bring his new wand, maybe that could have done something, but since he hadn't...well, what he wanted to do was go back and tell the house elves that they were insane to think that the hall was ever going to be spotless and that they could get someone else to do this stupid job. Unfortunately, he didn't want Alastor to hear that he had been disobedient or defiant or anything like that so it appeared that he was going to be stuck scrubbing for the foreseeable future. He'd only been working at the Ministry two days—technically only a day and a half, even—and he already hated the sight of a bucket of soap and water.

"You ready to head home, lad?"

"Yes!" Severus exclaimed, probably louder than necessary.

Alastor chuckled. "Take those things back, then; I'll meet you in the Atrium."

Severus nodded in agreement. Apparition was only permitted to and from the Atrium, and in theory only by people who worked there. Which didn't really stop visitors from apparating in if they knew the place, but at least the restrictions kept the traffic from being completely unreasonable.

"How about we grab dinner in Diagon Alley instead of waiting until we get home?" Alastor suggested when Severus joined him.

Severus nodded. Alastor had been…odd…about his cooking these past few days. Nothing specific, but…well, nothing he really wanted to dwell on, either. Eating out was just easier. "Leaky Cauldron?"

"Sounds good to me."

Alastor gripped the back of his neck lightly and apparated them into Diagon just across the street from Ollivander's, and Severus matched his pace easily enough as they headed for the pub. "Suppose you'll be needing school things soon," Alastor said as they passed Flourish and Blott's. "Have you received your list yet?"

Severus shook his head quickly and avoided looking in that direction. He still wasn't entirely comfortable about Alastor paying for his things, but…well, it wasn't like he had another choice. His Galleons hadn't been confiscated yet, but it was only a matter of time before Alastor got around to it.

"Well, let me know when you do. Don't doubt for a minute that the Hogwarts owl will find you."

"Yes, sir."

"Alastor," he corrected firmly, not for the first time.

"Alastor. Sorry." Severus wasn't even sure why he'd slipped back into the habit…he'd had no trouble using Alastor's name before, but now 'sir' kept slipping out unless he was consciously thinking about it. At least Alastor never really got upset about it, even if he did keep making the correction. The rest of the trip was made in silence, but that wasn't particularly unusual between the two of them.

"There are the Prewetts," Severus pointed out as they entered the pub. It was crowded—it usually was around mealtimes—and he would have gone over and asked to join them at their table if Alastor's hand on his shoulder hadn't halted him. "Hm?"

"I…." Alastor shook his head. "That might not be the best idea right now, lad. Fabian's still a bit annoyed with you about this whole mess. Gideon wouldn't mind, but…well, let's grab that booth under the window. Here." He pressed a few coins into Severus' hand. "I'll save the seats, you go fetch us some stew. It'll be faster if you just get it from the bar. And bring me back a bottle of ale while you're at it."

"Yes, sir," Severus agreed quietly, closing his hands around the coins automatically and turning towards the bar. When Alastor hadn't been angry with him, he'd thought…well, he really hadn't thought about the Prewetts' side of things. But then he'd only seen Fabian once since they'd learned who was behind the potions—when he'd dropped a few of Severus' things off at the Weasleys' place—and Fabian really hadn't said much specifically to Severus, or even looked directly at him, for that matter. Molly had treated him all right, though, and she was Gideon's sister…. Severus rolled his eyes as he thought about it. She'd treated him like a bloody six year old, but not at all like she was angry or—

"—help you?" a woman asked in a peevish tone, and he shook himself and looked up at the barmaid.

"Sorry, ma'am. Could I get two bowls of stew and some bread?"

"Hmph." She turned away, returning a moment later with a tray. "Will that be all?"

"One ale and a butterbeer, please."

They were set on the tray as well, and he paid her quickly and began to wind his way back to where Alastor was waiting. He couldn't help a quick glance towards where the Prewetts were sitting, and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that neither of them even saw him.

"Never mind, lad," Alastor said firmly, taking the tray when Severus reached the table and splitting up the dishes between them quickly.

Severus flushed when he realized that Alastor had been watching him. "It's just…." He wasn't even sure what it was. He wanted things to be like before. Before he'd gone and been an idiot.

"The boys are a bit protective of each other. Comes with the job we've got, I think. Give Fabian a bit of time to come around and it will work out, you'll see."

Severus nodded, picking at his bread.

"Eat. You going to bed with a grumbling stomach won't change anything."

Severus once again found himself scrubbing at a stain on the polished floor of one of the Ministry corridors that had probably been there longer than he'd been alive, and when he knocked his knuckles painfully against the stone for the third time in as many minutes he sat back with a muttered curse. The clock on the wall at the end of the hall was mocking him with its horrendously slow ticking…it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Another week and a half of this was going to kill him through sheer boredom if nothing else. And it might even be two and a half weeks if Alastor decided that he hadn't been punished enough.

Something struck the floor in front of him and exploded in a mass of foul-smelling gas, and Severus shoved himself upright gagging. "What in—"

Muffled laughter caught his attention, and he twisted to see two familiar dark heads disappearing. Disappearing under Potter's bloody invisibility cloak, and he snarled and took off after the sound of footsteps. Granted that he didn't have his wand and they were both bigger than himself—well, heavier, at least—but no one threw Merlin-be-damned Dungbombs at him and got away with it! Besides, it would only be two-on-one; far better odds for him than the four-on-one he had to face at school.

There weren't a great deal of people out and about on this floor; most of them were huddled up in their offices at this time of day so it was fairly easy to follow the sounds to the lift. Which, of course, shut as soon as Severus arrived, but he could wait and watch to see where it stopped. At least Black and Potter were too dumb to think about trying to confuse him—it only stopped once, on floor nine, before returning to the fifth floor at Severus' insistent pushes on the button.

He had to give them credit for a little bit of intelligence—fractional, certainly, but they did manage to cause him plenty of trouble at school—and made sure to walk around the entire lift giving sharp kicks to the air in front of him before he punched the button for floor nine…he might have looked a bit silly, but there would be no one to see him if they weren't here, and if they were it was one sure way find out about it.

When the lift stopped again on the requested floor and he stepped out, determining their destination didn't require any thought—there was only one door, down a long hall opposite the lifts. Something nagged at his memory, but the stench of the Dungbombs that now permeated his robes kept him focused on his objective, and he headed for the far door. "Bloody prat patrol." He shoved open the door and stepped inside, only to be confronted by a ring of more doors. And then there was another bark of laughter, and he spun to find Black and Potter immediately behind him, blocking the doorway he'd just come through. They must have been huddled against the wall under that invisibility cloak. Damn it all. "You—"

"Have fun, Snivelly," Black said, planting his hands on Severus' chest and giving him a powerful shove that sent him to the floor of the round room and then springing back into the hallway as Potter tugged hard on the door.

It slammed shut with a resounding 'bang' as Severus surged to his feet, reaching for the panel that would take him back out to face his tormenters. His fingers had barely brushed it when suddenly the walls of the room, including the doors that were mounted on them, began to spin at a furious pace. He stumbled back, waiting for it to stop—hoping that it would stop—and remembering an annoying little blurb he'd once read in Hogwarts: A History about the designer of the Department of Mysteries being one of the most gifted charms students that had ever passed through the school's doors. He'd apparently been particularly clever about entryways…there had been a lovely sketch of this damn round room right next to the short paragraph.

The walls of the room finally stopped revolving, and Severus took a deep breath and reached for the door in front of him. It had led to the exit just a moment, ago, surely…. His stomach twisted rather violently as the door opened into a misty room with large, luminescent shapes floating overhead. Planets, from the look of them. He slammed the door again quickly. "Okay, there has to be some sort of—"

The walls began to spin a second time, and even as he tried to keep his eyes on the one he'd just looked through—the one to the planet room—it blurred together with all the rest and he was left dizzy and with absolutely no idea which one he might have just opened. Or even which direction the exit had once been in. He took another deep breath, reminded himself firmly that panic wouldn't solve anything, and refrained from opening any more of the doors, instead examining them as closely as he could. To his eye they were all identical; they were made of the same sort of wood, there was nothing on the doorframes or the doors themselves to indicate what was behind them, the walls were smooth….

"Well, there are twelve of them," he said firmly, voice echoing slightly in the silence. "And even if they do spin…well, if I keep opening the same one every time—or at least the one in the same place—eventually it has to lead out of here. Right?" Nothing confirmed his observations, but he nodded to himself. He could do this. And if he was very lucky, he'd get out of here before anyone noticed that he was missing. Or he was caught in one of the most secret and restricted areas of the Ministry. "You'd think they'd have a lock, or a sign, or something…."

He set his feet firmly and pushed open the door in front of him a crack. After all, he didn't particularly want to burst in on a gathering of Unspeakables. The door didn't, unfortunately, lead to the hallway to the lifts that he was hoping for, instead showing a room with low lighting and what looked to be a row of other doors along the side. He pushed the door open a bit further and stuck his head in. There were a few desks, and a tank of something in the center of the room with floating shapes in it that Severus had no desire to examine any closer…when he heard voices murmuring at the far end of the room and saw two figures bent over one of the desks he pulled his head out and shut the door again quickly.

Once again the walls began to revolve, and he cursed himself quietly. Surely if he'd explained that he'd accidentally got lost…ended up down here by mistake…they'd have understood. After all, there really weren't any signs. Damn it, he could be getting out of here right now!

"Well, too late now," he muttered to himself as the doors once again came to a halt. He opened the door in front of him slightly and then had to blink furiously to adjust his eyes as they were met with bright light and all manner of greenery. "What in—?" He opened the door the rest of the way and started to step in when his brain caught up with whatever part of him that was already cataloguing ingredients. Fascinating as this was, it wasn't getting him out of here. And there was no one to ask for directions, either. He gave the room one last longing glance and then stepped back out and shut the door firmly. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors that part of the Department of Mysteries was concentrating on inventing new and untraceable poisons.

The next time he pushed open the door it opened on the planet room again, and then the next time it wouldn't open at all no matter how much of his weight he threw against it. Surely they'd lock people out, not get them in here and then seal the entrance…how else would people go home after work, otherwise? Unless…unless they'd somehow detected his presence and were trapping him here until someone could come arrest him. Could the room do something like that without any outside input? He frowned at the door for a few moments longer and then reached out and gave the door to the left a tentative shove. When he swung open easily some of the tightness in his chest was released. At least he wasn't trapped in that stupid circling room. He was about to shut the door—it didn't lead to the exit either, just another room with incredibly poor lighting—when he heard whispers from the inside.

"I'm just here by accident. Surely…surely they'll listen. And Alastor won't be angry—he won't even find out." He squared his shoulders and stepped in, looking for the source of the voices. The door shut behind him but he paid it no attention; after all, this room didn't look like it had revolving walls. He began to make his way forward, still trying to make out the form of whoever was whispering, when the ground suddenly disappeared from under his feet and he found himself tumbling down a set of stone steps. He landed on his back at the bottom, the force of the landing knocking all of the wind out of his lungs for a moment. So much for a quiet entrance…everyone in the room would have heard that. He got to his feet slowly, wincing at some of the bruises that that stupid staircase had left behind. "Um…hello?"

There was no response, and he turned to stare upwards. Had whoever it was left, somehow? He shook his head rubbed his arms quickly…he couldn't remember the circular room having been quite this cold.

There was a whisper, just over his shoulder, and he twisted stared up at a stone archway standing on the dais in front of which he'd landed. "Hello?" Was that where the voices were coming from? But…. He circled it quickly. It wasn't a door…it didn't go anywhere. So what was it? Some kind of new communication device, maybe? A fireless floo? But it was so old…almost crumbling, in fact.

There was another whisper, and his breath caught in his throat as the tattered curtain hanging in the archway rippled slightly. He hadn't been able to understand the words, exactly, but that voice…he knew that voice. He'd known it his whole life. "M-Mum?"

Another whisper, and he reached for the lip of the dais and hauled himself onto it. "Mum, is that you?" He knew she was gone—dead—but everyone knew the Department of Mysteries researched the magic inherent in the very fabric of the universe. Maybe…maybe they'd found a way to communicate with the dead. He couldn't have Mum back, he knew that, but if he could just speak to her, even for just a little while…. He reached out to touch the fluttering cloth.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?!" A hand grabbed him by his robes and hauled him off the dais, catching him before he could hit the floor. "Are you bloody mad?!"

"I—"

The man's grip transferred to Severus' arm, and Severus' teeth clicked together at a vicious shake. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"S-Severus Snape. I got lost."

"Lost, huh?" The man shook him again. "I don't know any Snapes—do your parents work here? Are you visiting or on business?"

"N-no, I'm staying with Alastor Moody, I—"

"Moody, huh? Him, I know. Come along."

As if Severus had a choice; the man might be several inches shorter than himself, but he was probably three times as big around and his grip on Severus' arm wasn't loosening in the slightest. Severus' stumbled a few times as he was hauled up the steps and gained a new bruise or two along the way, but that wasn't really his primary concern. His…well, captor, rescuer, whoever this man was, dragged him into the circular room, and if the spinning doors bothered him he gave no sign.

"Show me the exit," the man barked as soon as the doors stopped spinning, and one of them—the one leading down the hallway to the lift—swung open obligingly.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Severus muttered under his breath. And then he was being dragged along again.

"Level two," the man barked as soon as they were in the lift. "And if we're lucky he isn't out on a case or out to lunch."

Severus wasn't entirely certain whether that would be lucky or not. He had no particular desire to remain in whoever this man's company was any longer than he absolutely had to, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Alastor wasn't going to be very pleased with this morning's excursion either—or at least not in the manner in which it was probably going to be presented to him—and….

He winced as he was hauled unceremoniously out of the lift and into Auror Headquarters. There were a few people milling about, mostly with files in their hands, and Severus craned his head. It didn't look like Alastor was in his cubicle, but it was hard to see from this ang—

"Severus? Croaker, is something wrong?"

The man—Croaker, apparently—swiveled to face Alastor, hauling Severus along with him. "This one says he belongs to you?"

"Aye." Alastor removed Severus' arm from Croaker's grip firmly and pulled Severus a bit towards him, much to Severus' relief. "What's wrong?"

"Perhaps you can tell me why he was wandering about the Department of Mysteries. Playing in the Death Chamber, if you can believe it."

"The Death Chamber?"

Severus gulped and dropped his eyes to his boots. Neither the name nor Alastor's frighteningly even tone sounded particularly good.

"Up on the dais with the Veil," Croaker continued. "Just about touched the thing."

"Severus, is that true?" Alastor's voice had gained a dangerous edge.

"I…yes, sir." There wasn't a lot he could say to that; he had been there, even if he hadn't meant to be, and he had been…. Alastor didn't sound like he was in the mood to listen, but he had to at least try. "It was—I didn't—I thought I—"

"I assume that you can handle this from here?" Croaker interrupted.

"It won't happen again, I'll see to that," Alastor agreed. There was the sound of receding footsteps, and then, "Look at me, Severus."

"Alastor, I…." Severus trailed off when he caught sight of Alastor's face. It was fairly obvious that he was refraining from a fairly violent outburst only by force of will.

"I don't want to hear it. You get yourself up to the Atrium and floo back home—and you'd best go directly home, because Merlin help me if I have to go chasing you all over London again…."

His voice trailed off, and Severus nodded quickly. "I'll go straight home, I promise."

"You wait for me in the study."