A/N: Sorry for the long delay! Turns out university, NaNo, and other RL commitments actually take work. Who knew?
Anyway, yes. Hope you enjoy it, and with luck, I won't wait another two months before updating! :p

36 - Second Chances

Frances Runcorn was not, to all intents and purposes, a particularly extraordinary witch. Job aside, she was an entirely ordinary woman: a middle-aged government worker who went home every night to a mid-range flat in Islington, whose last notable achievement had been getting into the Department in the first place, and who had never done anything worldshaking or history-making. What was more, she liked it that way. When you worked somewhere as volatile as the Department of Mysteries, it was comforting to have normality to draw around yourself like a cloak, something to put you back in touch with the real world.

The war came to her on a cool Friday afternoon, when she was sitting by the Serpentine in St James' Park and feeding the ducks absent-mindedly. Her handbag, with her wand buried at the bottom, sat on the bench beside her, and the spring wind ruffled her greying hair. Had she been an Auror, she might have noticed the hints that something was approaching; the odd emptiness of the footpath, the unusual silence, the fact that several bold London pigeons had stopped pecking at the crumbs and were standing with their heads cocked. But Frances wasn't an Auror, and, frankly, she wasn't even all that awake.

The first she knew of it was the loud popping of several Apparations, and then, as she jolted into alertness and tossed her sandwich aside to scramble for her wand, a voice behind her: "Impedimenta!"

Around her, the air seemed to thicken into tar, catching her wide-eyed and immobile with her hands reaching for her bag. Although she couldn't move, her heart was decidedly unaffected – it was suddenly rushing like a runaway Hippogriff, thundering in her ears as she looked around desperately at the masked, robed figures surrounding her. Magic caught at her ankle, a spell she didn't know, and hauled her gracelessly upside down. She met the eyes of one of her attackers, saw the madness dancing behind the mask, and screamed.

"Shut up," the woman in front of her said curtly, raising her wand, and pressed the tip of it to Frances' nose. "Now, be a good girl, won't you? We just need to know a few things, and you're going to tell us..."

"Silencio!" The Auror was shouting the spell almost before he Apparated into the group. "Merlin, Bella, you don't half go on. Protego," he added almost casually, throwing up a shield as several red bolts shot his way, and dived away under two Killing Curses. Raising his voice as he put an arm around Frances' waist, he shouted towards a nearby tree "Now would be a good time for backup, Fab!"

The last thing Frances heard before he Apparated them both away was a markedly similar voice from behind the tree, yelling "Tally ho!" Then the voice and the park and the Death Eaters were gone, and with them the tension around her ankle; she fell, landing harder than she would have liked on something softer than she would have expected. Opening her eyes, she found herself on a rather tatty sofa in a little living room, with the Auror leaning over her solicitously. Now the initial panic was fading, she recognised him, and not just because he was based in the Ministry too. Most of wizarding Britain knew the face of Gideon Prewett. He looked rather friendlier in the flesh, though that might have had something to do with the circumstances.

"Sorry about that," he said, straightening up and reaching back to fix his short ponytail. "Next time you get ambushed, do it in a smaller place. Fab and I were combing the whole park for you. Tea?"

"I, um..." Frances cleared her throat, her heart still thundering in her ears as she tried to smooth her wool suit. "Where are we?"

"Safest place in Britain," Gideon replied cheerfully, although there was a certain tautness to the corners of his mouth. "Welcome to the Prewett residence. You'll be all right here – if they haven't found us by now, I don't think they're going to. Listen, I've got to get back and help Fab out, we're kind of short-staffed on this one. Kettle's on the boil in the kitchen, and we've put you out a mug and some biscuits. Don't go in any of the cupboards or try to open anything, though. Touching some of them'll turn your hair green."

"That, er, that doesn't sound very... I mean, hair?"

"Fab shouldn't fuck up my dates if he doesn't want green hair," Gideon said with a wink, and patted her on the shoulder. "Make yourself at home, Minister. We'll be back in a bit." And before she could ask any more questions or even say thankyou, he was gone.

When both Prewetts returned, Apparating together into the sitting room where he'd left her, Frances had very cautiously made herself a cup of tea and was sitting staring into it as it cooled. Looking at herself from outside, as she'd always been able to do, she guessed she was probably in shock, but what mattered was that she was safe. She'd been repeating that to herself for a good ten minutes when the brothers appeared in front of her, covered in mud and a little blood, but grinning.

"That's going to be a fun one to pass off as a mugging," Gideon said, clapping his twin on the shoulder and limping over to sit next to Frances. "You all right, Minister?"

She nodded, hoping she looked more certain than she was. "What did they... what did they want?"

"Damn." Fabian screwed up his face, untying his waist-length hair and shaking it out. "We were hoping you could tell us."

"All we know is that they thought you might tell someone something," Gideon explained, leaning down to unfasten his boots. "You might want to take a week or two off work. We're pretty sure we know who ratted you out, but we're going to need some time to build up a case before we take him in. We're, er... not exactly working as Aurors right at the moment. Just so you know. Keep this whole thing under wraps, is what I'm saying, 'cause we quite like our jobs."

"Wuss," Fabian said scornfully, ruffling his brother's hair, and wandered towards the door, tucking his wand into his robes. "Want a cuppa, Monkeyman?"

"Please." Gideon lounged back on the sofa, stifling a yawn. As Fabian disappeared out into the narrow hallway, Gideon turned back to Frances. "Don't mind Fab. He's a prat."

"I don't mind at all," Frances said honestly, putting her untouched tea to one side. "I should thank you. Especially if you weren't on Ministry business. You probably saved my life, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well." Gideon looked slightly bashful, and, Frances thought, very young indeed. Of course, he was hardly twenty yet. "Just 'cause it wasn't Ministry work, doesn't mean it wasn't our job."

"How did you know they were coming for me?"

He shrugged. "We got a tip-off. Anonymous. Well, I mean, not exactly anonymous, we know who told us, obviously, but we don't know who told him. Might just be that Dumbledore really is as all-knowing as he thinks he is. Anyway, when beardy old super-wizards say something with that kind of certainty, you don't..." He stopped mid-sentence, cocking his head slightly, and a very un-Auror-ish smirk began to spread across his face. "Hang on, wait for it..."

From down the hall, Fabian's voice echoed out loud and raw. "ROWENA'S SAGGY TITS, GID, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?"

...*...

It was typical that, when Severus finally had a reason to want to go to Hogsmeade, Hogsmeade weekends had been indefinitely suspended. In the absence of that excuse to peel away from people, secretive meetings were rather harder. They'd met twice since the last Death Eater meeting, which was already more than he was comfortable with when the stakes were so high, and he was increasingly paranoid every time one of his housemates met his eyes. Because of that, he very nearly decided against meeting Laura when he got her note.

In the end, it was the need for security, not safety, that drew him up to the Astronomy Tower. It was an irrational decision, short-sighted and wilfully blind, and he hated and despised the impulse in himself as much as he would in anyone else. He gave into it anyway. When the half-moon rose over the Lake, he started up the long stairwell, pulling his shabby robes around himself and resisting the urge to lurk in the shadows. Nothing was more suspicious, he knew, than someone trying hard not to be suspicious. Instead, rubbing his hands together in the spring chill, he stalked up the stairs in full view, his head held high, and didn't cast a single concealing charm until he was ten floors up.

When he emerged into the lashing rain, head ducked, he saw Laura at once. She stood against the parapet, looking out over the mountains, a very un-witchy blue Pack-a-Mac covering her robes. For a moment, as he closed the door behind him and set an alarm spell on it, he thought of just joining her in contemplation at the battlements, waiting for her to notice him. On the other hand, it was raining, and he'd had enough of being ruled by what he wanted.

"You called?" he said dryly, and Laura turned to face him, a smile spreading slowly across her round, rain-lashed face. Then, so quickly and near-violently that he found himself instinctively reaching for his wand, she was upon him, her lips pressing hard against his as she bounced up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Didn't you hear?" she said, her eyes alight, and kissed him again. Baffled, Severus couldn't gather himself together enough to respond. That didn't seem to bother Laura, who dropped back onto flat feet and hugged him tight. "You did it, Severus! You saved her!"

It took a moment for that to sink in. Even when it did, he didn't smile. There was something there, a tugging feeling of relief, but it was distant and small, like a stone in a well. Still, he pulled Laura in close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I saved her," he repeated, quietly, and shook his head, fingers closing on the slick plastic of her raincoat. He only held the hug a moment before pulling away. "It's a start."

"Severus..." Laura sighed, pushing her hair back under her hood. "It's not just a start. You did something amazing. Don't you dare talk yourself down here."

Severus nodded, knotting his fingers together thoughtfully, but there was no real feeling in it. All he said was, "We've got a lot of work to do."