Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.

Chapter 25

The Flight

"How is your arm," the elder Malfoy asked his son as the pair made their way up the long, snow-covered drive leading to Malfoy Manor. Lucius held out his hand, motioning for Draco to show him his affliction.

"It bloody well hurts," Draco replied as he gazed down at the patch of burnt flesh on his right forearm. Draco's sleeve had been singed off his arm, along with most of the fine blond hairs. Blisters, ugly and festering, had already started to rise from the reddened flesh, making the injury even more uncomfortable. "Stupid house elves. If I ever get my hands on them—"

"Now, now Draco," Lucius scolded. "There are far more pressing issues than exacting revenge on house elves – finding your lovely aunt, for instance."

"Bloody coward, where the hell is she? She should have gone to the Dark Lord after she and Dolohov finished off Snape and Potter's miserable friends. I bet she bungled it up and made a mess of things. That's why she's hiding."

"You may be right," Lucius conceded. "Just the same, our orders from the Dark Lord are to find her and bring her to him, so that's what we must do."

The Malfoy men then remained silent for the moments it took them to reach the door to their home. Lucius opened the door to find his house elf busy polishing a silver tea set. "Sozi! Where is Narcissa?"

The house elf was so startled by his master's voice that he dropped the silver teacup he had been polishing to the floor with a clang. "Sozi is so sorry, Master Malfoy. Sozi will punish himself for that. Mistress Malfoy is in the library with Madam Lestrange."

A look of shock crossed Lucius's face. "Bellatrix is here? Are you certain?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy, Sozi is quite sure. Madam Lestrange arrived earlier this morning. She has been talking to Mistress Malfoy ever since."

"Very good," Lucius said with a slight smile as he turned to make his way toward the library, Draco in tow. As his masters walked away, Sozi began furiously beating his head against the hard, stone wall.

Lucius opened the door to the library and saw that the house elf's report had been true. There were Narcissa and Bellatrix sitting in a pair of wingback chairs clearly engrossed in an intense discussion. He cleared his throat. "Bellatrix, how fortunate to run into you here. It is nice of you to save me the trouble of searching for you."

"Lucius, Draco," Narcissa exclaimed as she rose from her seat to embrace her husband and son. "I nearly worried myself sick over the two of you! Are you alright?"

"No, I nearly got my arm burned off by Potter's stupid elves," Draco complained as he held his damaged arm up for his mother to examine.

"How did this happen?"

"Draco is fine, Narcissa," said Lucius, flatly. "The more pressing matter is your sister's presence in our home."

Lucius looked to Bellatrix with contempt. "You surely know, Bella, that the Dark Lord is most concerned as to your whereabouts. He expected you and Antonin to report back to him as soon as you finished the task given to you."

"Dolohov is dead, Lucius," Bellatrix snarled. "The poor, weak bastard got his neck snapped by Snape. I saw it happen. As for me, I nearly burned up in the fire because your idiot son couldn't take care of a couple of elves!"

Draco started toward his aunt, a look of angry disgust on his face but was stopped by his father's outstretched arm. "Surely you're not telling me that Severus and Potter's friends were not taken care of?" Bellatrix did not reply, but Lucius could tell from the seething glare she gave him that he was right. "Nevertheless, you must come with me at once to see the Dark Lord."

"You know full-well I can't do that. I'll be killed for failing him!"

Lucius's face twisted with annoyance. "And what do you suppose he'll do to me if I fail to bring you in, Bella? Besides, Harry Potter is dead. That satisfaction will likely curb his appetite for death if you do a sufficient amount of groveling."

Bellatrix shot a look of concern toward her sister. Narcissa responded with a nod at which her sister began speaking once more. "That's what you don't understand, Lucius. Harry Potter is not dead. After the Dark Lord disappeared the wretched boy moved!"

"That's impossible," Lucius protested. "The Dark Lord hit him squarely with the Killing Curse. We both witnessed it. There's no way Potter survived. Absolutely no way!"

"He survived it once before," Narcissa interjected. "What makes it so hard to believe that he could do so again? Bella swears that she saw Potter move and I, for one, believe her."

Lucius let out a sigh of frustration. He turned away from the others and began to prepare himself a drink from the bar cart. As he poured some Ogden's Old into a small glass, he pondered what his next move would be. He had to take Bellatrix back to Voldemort or he and his family would be severely punished. On the other hand, Bellatrix was his wife's sister and she was right, Voldemort would likely kill her for her insolence in fleeing the Riddle house with her task unfinished. At the very least he would torture her. Lucius did not want that, as Narcissa would likely do something to prevent it. However, he could not risk any harm coming to Narcissa or Draco. "Bellatrix, I have my orders and I am not prepared to disobey them. I cannot risk putting my family in danger by failing"

Lucius turned around to find his sister-in-law's wand pointed squarely between his eyes. "You're a bloody fucking fool, Lucius, if you think I'll let you do that. iFlipendo!/i" A burst of orange light shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand, sending the blond wizard tumbling backward. Lucius hit the wall with a thud, tipping over the bar cart and soaking his parlor floor with liquor in the process.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," Draco shouted as he brandished his wand. Before the young wizard could do any damage his wand was ripped from his grasp by a silent disarming spell. He watched, speechless as it flew end over end and finally clattered to the floor at his aunt's feet.

Narcissa looked on, horror-struck. "Bellatrix, that's enough!"

"Sorry, dearest, but I won't be going to the Dark Lord without Potter's head on spike." Another blast of orange light came from Bellatrix's wand, knocking her nephew to the floor. Draco's landing was no gentler than his father's and both of them lay unconscious, their clothes becoming sodden from the vintage Firewhisky.

Narcissa suddenly found herself filled with fury, and as her hand dithered on the hilt of her wand, Bellatrix gave her an ultimatum. "Cissy, I will not go to the Dark Lord, not until I have found Potter so that I can deliver him. Now, you can come with me and help like we discussed, or you can join your upstanding gentlemen, and maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord will spare the three of you if he finds out."

Narcissa cast an angry glare at her sister. Bellatrix had done her no favors by coming into her home and sharing the information that Potter was alive. She did not deserve any help as far as Narcissa was concerned. Moreover, if Bellatrix hadn't been family, she would have taken her right to the Dark Lord herself. But she was her sister and, as foolish and reckless as Bella had been, Narcissa could not bear the thought of her being killed by the Dark Lord. "Fine. I will go with you, but you must help me first. Lucius and Draco can have no memory of seeing you here, else the Dark Lord will take out his fury for you on them. We must erase the memory from their minds before we leave."

The Dark witch rolled her eyes. "Very well. Then we leave and put all of this right." Bellatrix shoved past her sister as she walked over to Lucius's unconscious body and performed a memory charm. Narcissa did the same for Draco, and planted a kiss on his forehead before following Bellatrix out of the parlor.

The two sisters walked down the dark hall, passing the house-elf as they went. "You are not to tell Lucius or Draco where we've gone, Sozi," Narcissa ordered. "They should not ask, because they'll have no memory of seeing us, but if for some reason they do, you are to lie."

For a moment, the house-elf looked as though Narcissa had just asked him to drag the moon down from the sky. His gigantic eyes bulged dangerously from his tiny head as if they were about to pop out of his skull and roll across the floor. Lying to Lucius and Draco went against everything the poor elf had known, but all it took was Bellatrix flashing him a glimpse of her dagger to change his mind.

"If we're found, you little monkey; I'll be wearing your useless hide as leather," Bellatrix warned, running her hand back and forth across the knife's quillon. "Now, run along and clean up my mess."

The elf looked to his mistress and her unruly guest and then disappeared with a snap of his skinny fingers, leaving the two sisters standing alone by the front door.

Bellatrix reached for Narcissa's arm, intertwining it with hers. "Do try to look more excited, Cissy. We're saving our own arses, after all."

Narcissa frowned deeply, elongating the lines on her face that showed her age. Sometimes she really despised Bellatrix, but she could not deny the truth in her words. As the two of them Disapparated, Narcissa's nails dug into her sister's hand, and as she felt herself been pulled from every direction and flattened, she thought of how she would repay Bellatrix when the time came.

The sun had yet to rise over the mill standing in the center of Spinner's End, but Severus found himself sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hand. Sleep deprived and basically worn into the ground, he stared down at his empty teacup, his mind trying to focus on anything but what had happened just hours before in the very room he couldn't bring himself to leave. Sitting alone in his dark kitchen for hours had been sobering, and as much as Severus hated to admit it, he realised he had made a mistake.

Severus took a deep breath, his free hand tracing the rim of the cracked cup as he remembered how he had given into his desire for someone who deserved more than he could ever give. That was typical Severus Snape behavior, he mused with a considerable amount of disgust. It had always been and would always be the same. Whenever anyone paid him the slightest bit of mind or showed any interest in him at all, he was more concerned about the whys of it all than accepting it. Of course, in this particular case, he simply could not wrap his mind around the whys.

He had nearly twenty years on Hermione Granger, and that fact alone was enough to sway him. Younger, and with the promise of a bright future ahead of her, she was off limits to him. Truthfully, Severus found it unfathomable that she would even consider initiating any sort of contact with him other than being polite for the sake of courtesy. The word "relationship" flashed across his subconscious as if it were illuminated like a gaudy Muggle neon sign. He quickly doused that hopeless spark with reason before it could turn into an uncontrollable blaze. That would never happen.

Never.

And he would see to it. She had her entire life to live, and being associated with someone who was not only twenty years her senior but a former Death Eater would hardly be conducive to her living whatever dreams she had. However, given her actions just a few hours before, it was clear Hermione didn't care about any of that, but that didn't matter. He would have to make her see that something more between them would never work. Severus pushed back the image of the expression that would, no doubt, be present on Hermione's face when he told her once and for all that her feelings could not be reciprocated.

Severus sighed, brushing his calloused hands across his stubble ridden face. He suspected it wouldn't be much different from the one he saw previous night when he tried to push her away—her fresh face placid, though her glistening, tear-filled eyes threatened to betray her. Hermione might not be able to see it now, and she would mostly likely be adamant in proving him wrong, but nothing would become of whatever was happening between them.

"Morning."

Severus looked up with a start, annoyed at the throbbing redness creeping across his face. Standing in the doorway was the object of his thoughts. The smile on Hermione's face faltered briefly when she saw his agitated expression, but it did little to deter her from taking the seat next to him. Severus felt himself tense when he caught a whiff of the clean scent of her impossible hair, and before his mind could travel back to the memory of his hands becoming tangled in the thick curls, he excused himself from the table in search of more tea.

"You're up early," she said sleepily, watching him as he retreated.

Severus regarded her out of the corner of his eye while he tended to his tea. She sat, slumped in her chair, with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes that seemed to wash the colour from her face. Sleep must have eluded her as well, he thought as he poured a cup of tepid tea for her and another for himself. Looking down at the tea, Severus felt himself frown. He couldn't determine if his aggravation was from the lack of steam rising up from the brown liquid or the fact that he couldn't quite figure out what to say to her, but he could, at least, absolve the former.

He cradled the first cup in his hands, feeling the temperature increase as he muttered the heating charm before doing the same to the other. He could feel Hermione's watchful eyes on his back, which made it rather difficult for him not to overdo it. Second later, with half-steaming, half-boiling cups in hand, he strode back over to the table where he carefully placed one in front of Hermione.

Severus sat down in the seat furthest from her in an attempt to keep some distance between them. "I could say the same for you."

Hermione shrugged, taking a small sip of her scalding tea, but never offered to say anything further. Severus blinked at her; nonplussed by her sudden silence. Apparently, he wasn't the only one feeling the uncomforting affects of their almost-tryst, which served to only make him feel more apprehension about broaching the subject. Even though they were no more than three feet from one another, the distance between them seem to stretch out for miles.

Hermione swirled her drink absentmindedly, and Severus noticed something pass over her tired face. Dread, possibly, or embarrassment? It was hard to tell considering she wouldn't really look him in the eye. He wondered briefly if he should ask what was on her mind, but decided against taking that leap. Deep down, Severus knew that sort of leap would most likely result in him falling flat on his face, or making it worse.

Instead, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his sleeping pants, and settled more comfortably into the hard chair. Overhead, the floorboard creaked as someone one walked across them. Severus was secretly thankful he wouldn't have to be alone with her for an extended period of time even though a very tiny part of him felt a twinge of melancholy. This is how it has to be, he thought to himself. This is the only way it can be.

"That'll be the boys," Hermione said, her eyes following the noise. She took a long drink from her cup, draining it entirely. "Are you hungry? I'm sure they'll be. "

Severus, who was mid sip, looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his cup with, his lip curling upward. At least she was speaking to him despite sticking to the more mundane topics of conversation. "Are you offering?"

"Seeing as this is your kitchen," Hermione began, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I was hoping you'd be interested in helping me at least find what I need."

Severus could see the request for what is was, just as he could see every pot and pan his mother had ever owned sitting behind the glass panes of the cabinets. Hermione didn't need his help anymore than he needed to oblige, but Severus couldn't have stopped himself had he wanted to as he stood and followed her into the panty in search of something edible.

The pantry itself was well-stocked, making the space far too cramped for one person, let alone two. The previous night, Severus had ventured out alone to a small shop near the edge of Cokeworth to purchase enough food to last them for a few weeks. Tins of glazed biscuits and other packaged goods glistened under the lone, naked bulb that hung overhead, and the sweet smell of the few fresh fruits and vegetables he was able to acquire lingered through the air. Oddly enough, Severus mused as he watched Hermione peruse the group's stockpile, the old house finally felt like a home he wouldn't object coming to once the war ended.

"We've got a tin of kippers to go with the toast," Hermione said, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the package.

Severus shook his head, making a disgusted face. The small, smoked fish had never been appealing to him, but had seen his three guests eat them on occasion in the Great Hall before they went into hiding. "That would not be my first choice. Perhaps something that doesn't stare at me while I eat it."

Hermione laughed, placing the tin of split fish back on the shelf. She turned around much too quickly on the small stepping stool, and her bare foot jutted out in the air to help maintain her balance as two of the stool's stubby wooden legs went airborne. In that moment, everything seemed to happen so suddenly.

Hermione's wide eyes were full of the realization that she was falling and there was nothing she could do but hit the ground. Severus rushed forward, hardly aware of his own movements, just in time to have a curly head of hair crash into his chest. He caught one of her hands in his and his other snaked its way around her small waist to steady her. They both staggered backwards from the velocity until Severus's back hit the doorframe.

The subtle thud that rang through his head told him that Hermione's feet hit the floor instead of her head, but it was her small frame pressing him into the door that shocked him back into the present. Severus cleared his throat awkwardly, but couldn't bring himself to let her go.

Hermione looked up at him, red-faced, and then away quickly. She was embarrassed, that much was easy to tell, but there was also something else hiding in her eyes. Severus realised that she, too, had felt the same searing jolt when they touched. Anxiety churned, heavy and strong, in his stomach as she stepped away from him.

"Thank you."

The breathless edge of her voice sent Severus's mind spiraling back to the previous night, and he had to look away before he did something ill-advised, like bring it up. "You're welcome," he said instead, hearing the vacant tone in of his words.

When he turned for the kitchen, Severus saw Hermione rummaging through the ancient refrigerator as though nothing had happened. When she emerged, she was holding a container of eggs in one hand and stick of butter in the other. Hermione shut the door with her hip before placing the ingredients on the nearby counter. "How do you feel about eggs in the basket?"

"Much better," Severus said with a nod as he went to work gathering the rest of what they would need. Cooking, in Severus's opinion, wasn't much different from brewing. The task required a certain amount of skill that couldn't be taught, and, much like brewing, it was easy to lose one's self in the work. And that was exactly what he needed.

The two of them worked in agreed silence, moving about the kitchen and each other like a well-oiled machine. Severus was always mindful of where Hermione was, and he paid careful attention not to touch her as they shared the work space. She seemed to do the same, though she would occasionally flash a brilliant smile in his direction, or offer him a fork full of something to taste. He could handle this, and the longer he was around her, the more he believed that he could. Severus would have to work harder at keeping his mind from running off in directions it ought not to go. And how hard could that possibly be?

Feeling much more confident about his situation, Severus realised he was willing to accept this mutual friendship they seemed to share instead of pushing her away entirely—as long as it didn't progress beyond precisely that. Severus valued the common ground they had developed over the course of several weeks, and he couldn't stand the thought of anything, even his senseless, misplaced pull toward to her, jeopardizing that.

Nearly half an hour later, they stood in the middle of the now stuffy kitchen admiring the impressive spread they had worked together to create. The eggies in the basket, as Hermione called them, were piled high on a faded blue serving platter, golden brown from the butter. Sitting alongside the towering stack of bread and eggs, was a small dish nearly overflowing with crisp bacon. Some pieces, having just been brought off the cooker, still sizzled. Then, of course, there was the fresh tea kettle of breakfast tea.

"We didn't do half bad," Hermione observed, nudging Severus in the ribs with her elbow.

Severus handed Hermione an empty plate. "Not bad at all. You best get what you want before your red-headed friend makes an appearance. I suspect the food won't last long once he shows himself."

After their plates were filled, they moved back to the table, this time Severus taking the seat directly next to Hermione. She didn't seem nearly as distant now, which relieved him beyond belief. As they ate, the two of them talked about nothing in particular, but the conversation seemed to change at least half a dozen times. Severus found himself becoming wrapped up in the stories she told about her childhood, and much to his surprise, found him sharing a few stories of his own. It was easy to talk to her, he discovered, because Hermione knew when to press for more information and when to keep her mouth closed.

Unfortunately, their pleasant conversation was soon interrupted by Ron lumbering sleepily down the stairs, his heavy steps making the floorboards creak as he walked. He appeared in the kitchen door, scratching the back of his head and still in his night clothes.

"Having a bit of a lie-in are we?" Hermione teased as she handed him a plate full of food. "I was wondering when the two of you were going to emerge."

Ron stared at the plate in his hand, and then around the room with confused look on his face. He blinked heavily, as though trying to make sense of the two of them sitting together at the table. "Wait. You haven't seen Harry?"

The bite of toast on the end of Severus's fork never made it to his mouth. He sat, openmouthed, trying to make sense of what the redhead was saying. He and Hermione hadn't seen Potter since last night. The house was secret-kept and only the four of them knew of its location. That meant only one thing.

Severus stood abruptly, feeling a sudden sense of alarm rise up in him. "He's not with you?"

"He was asleep when I went to bed last night," Ron said, shaking his head. Severus walked past him, heading straight for the second floor, Hermione trailing behind him like a shadow. "He's not upstairs, I checked all the—."

A loud bang caused Ron's words to wither on his tongue. He hurried into the sitting room to see the bookcase pushed aside, and noticed Severus and Hermione were taking the stairs two at time leading up to the second floor. By the time he reached the top floor landing, Snape and Hermione had just exited one of the rooms and was heading for another.

"I told you he's not up here," said Ron. "I've looked in every room."

Severus stopped in front of the bathroom door, his hand twisting the tarnished handle. It was locked. "Did you think to check this door?" His tone had suddenly switched from inquiry to accusation.

"I knocked, but no one answered me," Ron bit back, defiant. "See for yourself if you don't believe me!"

Hermione pushed past the squabbling wizards, pulling her wand from the knot she had tied in her hair and approached the closed bathroom door. She knocked quite forcefully several times, and waited for the slightest hint of life on the other side. She could hear nothing but her heart beating in her ears. She stepped back with a look of determination on her face, and then pointed her wand at the door.

"Alohomora!" A faint yellow light flew from the tip of her wand, hitting the key hole, and moments later, the grinding sound of the mechanical lock opening filled the narrow hall. The door swung open as thought it had a mind of its own, revealing the modest but tidy loo in the early morning light.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the agonizingly cold blast of winter air that shot past them and down the hall. Three sets of eyes peered through the door to spot the window standing open, allowing bits of powdered snow to cascade through to the tiled floor.

"The bloody idiot! If he's not dead when we find him, I'm going to kill him myself," Ron seethed, looking at the moth-eaten window dressing blowing in frigid winter wind.

Hermione suddenly looked panicked. "Where could you think he could've gone?"

"He's gone after the cup, obviously," Severus answered, turning for his own room. "Get yourselves together; we're leaving in five minutes."

Author's Notes:

Whew! Almost three months without an update! Now that my summer holiday has started, it won't be nearly as long (Translation: Chapter 27 is nearly finished and will be posted soon). Also, I am pleased to tell you that I haven't been sitting on my derriere this entire time. I've actually just finished a brand new story that will start posting to this archive on or around July 31st. Stay tuned, because I don't think you'll want to miss it.

Thanks again to all of those who not only read, but also take the time to review. It's a pleasure to hear from each one of you. Your thoughts mean the word to me, and I appreciate every word! Happy reading!