Chapter 52: Plans and Plots

The door to the head's office slammed open to reveal a furious Severus. "Harriet Potter, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley are missing," he snapped to the three people gathered around the desk, not waiting for a greeting. "They met by the forbidden forest and did not return for dinner, and cannot be found. We must organise a search."

Albus looked over his half moon glasses, and Minerva tucked his blanket around his shoulder again. "We were about to send for you, Severus," he intoned.

"You were aware?" Severus said with a frown. "You knew, and still you sit here? I suppose you would prefer that I searched the forest. I will need help from Hagrid; I cannot cover that much ground alone."

"That won't be necessary," Lupin informed him. "They're not in the forest."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus glowered. "If they are not in the forest, where are they?"

"That was why we were about to summon you, Severus," Minerva said sharply, her lips pursed in disapproval. "The school wards record their departure by portkey at a quarter past four this afternoon, in the company of Blaise Zabini."

Severus clenched his hands, the action hidden by the folds of his robes. "Do you suggest that Harriet simply walked away with Mr. Zabini?" he queried harshly. "I find that unlikely, given their interactions over the last months."

"No one is suggesting that, Severus," Lupin said with a weary sigh, resting his elbows on the desk. Severus finally recognised what it was that all three were looking at: it was the school map, an artifact made by the founders and capable of showing the location of every inhabitant of the castle if they were within its bounds. Searching it was a laborious, intensive procedure. They really were worried, or desperate to be ploughing the time of three people into searching it, including pulling Albus from his chambers. Severus spared a healer's glance for the old man. He did not look well. The potions and healing magic were prolonging his life, but for how long, even Severus could not tell.

"Have the rest of the Order been informed?" he asked tersely.

"Now, now, I think we're getting ahead of ourselves here," Dumbledore said. "The Zabinis have no known connections to Voldemort, after all, and Mr Zabini does seem to hold something of a grudge against Miss Potter. It is not necessarily an order matter. I think it probable that she will be returned to us, possibly slightly the worse for wear, but intact."

"Intact?" Severus hissed. "Intact? If she is returned with a hair on her head harmed, Zabini shall be made to pay!"

Minerva and Lupin started at his reaction. Even Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "Severus… why the new-found protective instincts?" Minerva asked.

"She is my goddaughter," Severus replied sharply. "I have the right to be protective. Apparently, though, I am not protection enough. She must be found."

"Your… goddaughter?" Minerva repeated sharply. "No, Severus… it was Sirius Black who named Potter."

"It was Sirius Black who named Harry Potter," Dumbledore pointed out. "For the moment, though, we must focus on finding the children. Severus, have you any idea where Blaise may have gone?"

Severus gave a stiff inclination of his head, something like a small bow. "I will contact Madam Zabini," he suggested. "He may have taken them to their mansion."

"Perhaps not taken unwillingly, Severus," Albus said gently. "They may have gone on one of their adventures; if nothing else, I have learnt over my career that teenaged children will never cease to surprise us." Severus fisted his hands so tightly his nails dug painfully into his palms, but did not show his anger on his face. Dumbledore continued, asking, "How is it that you came to know of their absence?"

"Ronald Weasley was looking for them. I happened to come across his hunt," Severus said smoothly. "If you will excuse me, I shall contact Madam Zabini."

Ron was lingering at the bottom of the staircase. He looked up fearfully at Severus as he approached. "Well?" he asked, more afraid for his friends and sister than he was of Severus.

"They were portkeyed away in the company of Blaise Zabini," Severus said flatly. "They will be found."

"Zabini! Professor, please, he tried to kill Harriet…"

Severus held up a hand, deepening his scowl. "I am aware of that, Mr. Weasley. You know that I have my own reasons for wishing their safe and speedy return: I must be about my business. You will be contacted if you can be of assistance, or in the event of their return. You have my word on it."

Ron nodded dejectedly, and turned to slowly trudge back to Gryffindor tower. "I would think it prudent to keep this news to yourself, Weasley," Severus called.

"I know, Professor," Ron called back morosely.

Severus had not been entirely forthcoming with Dumbledore. He had not found Ron, rather, Ron had sought him out after his concerns were brushed aside by Minerva. Severus had known that the young man must have been truly worried to seen him out, given how afraid Ron was of him, and the young man was grateful that Severus had listened and taken him seriously. His steps were heavy as he trod his way to his office to floo Madam Zabini.

As heavy as his heart was in fear for Harriet, Hermione was in danger too.

Silent tears tracked down Harriet's face. She had tried to bite Crabbe, received a slap in the face from Zabini for her attempts to hurt him, and now was suffering the indignity of being truly, completely naked in front of Voldemort. Even her shoes and socks were gone: the only adornment aside from the manacle-like cuffs and their come-and-go chains was the charm bracelet Robin had given her, with its little silver broomstick. The point of it dug into her wrist a little under the cuff, but she didn't really mind. It was a reminder that somebody cared. They'd left her her glasses, too, though she wasn't sure that was a kindness. It might have been easier if everything faded to a blur.

Voldemort circled around her twice. He grasped her chin again, pulling her face up so he could study it, though she didn't think he was attempting to access her mind. She didn't need to imagine a frightened disarray of thoughts to confound his attempts at legilimency: her brain was providing them quite of its own accord. She gulped, and he let her face go. An icy hand weighed one breast with something approaching disinterest, and Harriet shuddered in revulsion, shuffling away. Voldemort dug long, bluish nails into the flesh of her arm and yanked forward. She yelped, shockwaves running through to the broken bone.

Voldemort tutted. "That bruise is most unsightly," he commented. and raised his wand. Harriet closed her eyes, waiting for the words.

Instead of the killing curse, though, Voldemort healed the break. She gasped as the bone sprang back with an audible crunch. It still hurt. "Are you a virgin, girl?" he asked languorously.

"What?" Harriet spluttered, shocked into speech.

"A virgin. Have you lain with a man?"

"None of your business!" Harriet snapped before thinking where she was, who she was talking to. She snapped her mouth closed again. She didn't understand… did Voldemort need some kind of virgin sacrifice? Well, he wasn't getting it from her.

Blaise spoke up. "I've never heard of her having any liaisons," he volunteered.

Harriet still said nothing, even when Voldemort tightly twisted his hand in her hair. He grew bored, and she found herself spun and shoved back against the desk with a wave of magic. "If you will not speak, there are other ways of finding out," Voldemort informed her. When he reached for her legs, she realised what he wanted to do, and began to kick wildly. Malfoy stepped forward, wand outstretched, but Voldemort was quicker. "Petrificus crura," he snapped, and her legs froze, no longer under her control. A rough, stifled sob escaped her then, and a slow smile spread across Voldemort's milky skin. "One of you, hold her down," he instructed, and when Zabini had his hands firmly on each of her shoulders, pressing her into the tabletop, Voldemort pushed her now-unresisting legs back and out. They were tucked close to her chest, leaving her completely vulnerable. Harriet screwed her eyes shut, every muscle that she had control over tight as a bowstring as dry, freezing fingers spread her open, then pressed painfully inside her.

"Alas," Voldemort sighed, holding the final 's' into something of a hiss, "She is not virginal. No matter." He let her legs drop. They thumped painfully down onto the hard edge of the desk. "She will do. Lucius, prepare for a celebration, two nights hence. Ensure the girl is suitably prepared for the ritual. I will provide the potions and artifacts necessary."

"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy said. "My Lord, what of the other two? The mudblood and the blood traitor?"

Voldemort appeared to consider this for a moment. "The Weasley girl may serve as a suitable handmaiden for this one. She will need help when she grows large. The mudblood will be suitable entertainment for my loyal subjects," he declared eventually. "Perhaps, Blaise, you would like her to play with?"

Blaise dropped to his knees at Voldemort's feet. "Please, My Lord, I have a different boon to beg of you."

"Speak," Voldemort said. "You have pleased me today, and I am of a mind to be generous."

"I want Potter." he said. Harriet couldn't see Voldemort's face, but his entire frame stiffened with rage. Blaise quickly stammered out a correction. "No, my Lord, I misspoke. I only wish a few hours with her… she has taunted me for months. I wish the chance to take what she has dangled before me… I ask no more than the chance to experience once what it will be your pleasure to have forever."

Voldemort was silent for a long time. A clock on the desk ticked near Harriet's ear. "I am inclined towards magnaminty today," he declared. Harriet had counted one hundred and three ticks since Blaise had fallen silent. "Tomorrow, I will permit you, and others, if you desire, to spend no more than two hours in the cell with her and the others. None are to be irreparably harmed, though you may break the mudblood a little if you desire. She must only be well enough to serve as entertainment for my guests… as for this one, she must be well enough to begin immediately the task of bearing me my heir. With the correct rituals and potions, she could be pregnant within the month. Since she is sullied already, it makes no difference to me if she lies with you first."

Harriet couldn't help it. It suddenly all made sense: the stripping, the close examination… Voldemort wasn't going to kill her- he was going to breed her! The contents of her stomach rebelled strongly, and she threw up, turning her head to the side just in time to spew the foul liquid over the highly-polished surface of the desk.

"Eeew," Crabbe said, shrinking back. It was the first time Harriet had heard him speak; he didn't sound like he'd gained any intelligence.

Voldemort turned to look at her with a pinched, wrinkled look on his face. "Clear it up," he said to no one in particular, and swept out of the room.

Malfoy vanished the spreading pile of acidic fluid with a sneer. "You had best learn to control your reactions, Potter. In a few days, you'll be wrapped up in satin and lace, parroting a wedding."

"You can't be serious," Harriet croaked. Lucius ended the petrificus on her legs, returning their limited use to her.

"Deathly so, girl," he said with a cold grin. "Now that you're no longer a risk to the Dark Lord's life, it is his pleasure to use you to carry his heir. Soon, you'll be filled with the Lord's seed, and your belly will be large with his child. Be grateful, brat, it's an honour that any of us would give up our daughters for."

"You don't have a daughter," Harriet spat.

Lucius looked down at her, his eyes cold. "No, I don't," he agreed. "I just have a son who's more cowardly than any girl." He yanked her upright again, and she realised that Blaise was gone, leaving only a slightly green looking Crabbe in the corner. "Walk, girl," Lucius said. "If you behave, I'll let you clean up before leaving you in the cell again."

"Do I get my clothes back?" she asked aggressively. Lucius just sneered. She supposed that meant no.

Slowly, since the short chain between her ankles didn't allow much movement, Harriet stumbled forward, receiving a prod in the back from Lucius' cane to steer her around the corridors. Eventually, they reached the door back down to the dungeons. Harriet cursed herself for not thinking of something, some way to incapacitate Malfoy and Crabbe, escape… but even if she did, she'd have left Ginny and Hermione behind, and she couldn't abandon them. Her brain was numb. She could see some glimmer of hope in all this, and it was the only thing to stop her screaming… if there was to be some gathering of Death Eaters, then perhaps… hopefully… Severus would be there. Maybe he could think of something. If he at least knew where they were, maybe he could rescue them. She just hoped that Ginny and Hermione would survive long enough.

Lucius slapped at the back of her thighs with the cane to turn her left into a different room instead of into the cell. At first she was afraid that she was being separated from Ginny and Hermione, but she realised that it was a tiny room, rigged up with a showerhead and a drain in the floor. He was letting her wash the sour smell of her own vomit from her. A wave of his cane started the water, and he lounged in the doorway. "Get on with it," he snapped. "I have better things to be doing than guarding you."

The water was freezing, but Harriet welcomed it anyway. It made her feel a little less filthy, let her believe that she was washing some of Voldemort's repulsive touch from her body. There was a little hard soap on a small indentation in the stone wall, and she struggled to work any lather from it. She gave up, smearing the slippery pebble across her body and then into her hair to wash out the sick that had landed in it.

She was as quick as she could be, not wanting to antagonise Malfoy, and not wanting to spend too long being pelted by icy water. She stepped away from the spray, shivering, and looked about for a towel. There was none. "Come on," Malfoy snapped. "Back into your room with you."

Calling it a room was a bit rich, she thought. Cell would have been the correct term. "May I have a towel?" she asked, trying to sound compliant. He just sneered and pulled back the heavy bolt on the door, shoving her in with a firm hand to her back.

Hermione left to her feet. "Oh, Harriet, thank goodness, you're okay, you're alive," she burbled, rushing forwards to embrace her friend. "You're wet…"

"Yeah," Harriet said, shivering. Hermione dashed to fetch one of the blankets, draping it around her.

"Even your hair is soaked through," Hermione said. "What happened?" She beckoned Ginny over. "Gin, come here," she said. "She's freezing, we need to try to warm her up."

Ginny didn't dare refuse. She tucked her blanket around Harriet's shaking form too as Hermione wrung water from Harriet's hair, splattering dark patches across the stone. "Malfoy let me wash," Harriet said, her jaw clenched to try to keep her teeth from chattering. "I threw up on myself."

"Did you see You-know-who?" Ginny asked fearfully.

"Yeah," Harriet said with a brusque nod. She had to say it, no matter how difficult it was. "He... he wants me to carry his heir." There. That sounded distant enough. It wasn't 'he wants to fuck me 'til I'm up the duff', which, true as it might be, sounded worse. Oh, Merlin… how on earth was she going to survive this? It had been bad enough having him touching her, but to have him inside her… to have a child? Her shiver wasn't just down to the cold, and she felt nausea rise again. There was nothing left to throw up. She choked it back, drawing in huge lungfuls of air to suppress the feeling.

Both other girls gasped. "What?" Hermione asked, stunned. "I thought you were his great nemesis…"

Ginny interjected with "Eew! Is he even capable of, you know, doing it?"

Harriet glared at Ginny. "I suppose so, since he plans to," she replied dryly. "Malfoy said that I wasn't a danger to him anymore," she admitted. "I don't know why he's suddenly decided that I'm more use alive than dead." She beckoned both girls closer, her voice dropping to a barely-there whisper. "Look, there's going to be some kind of party, wedding-thing with all the Death Eaters in two days. That's got to be our best chance."

"Our best chance?" Ginny burst out. "You think trying to…"

Hermione and Harriet shushed Ginny, wide-eyed. "They might be listening to us," Hermione hissed. "And no, I'm not thinking we can run away from a merry band of Death Eaters. Just that perhaps there'll be someone there who can help us."

"Oh, please," Ginny huffed, though she kept her voice lower now. "Like they don't have anything better to do. And I wouldn't be so sure that Snape'll rescue us anyway. Yeah, he says he's on our side, but how do we know he's not actually on you-know-who's side?"

Harriet and Hermione shared a look. They couldn't exactly tell Ginny how they knew, after all. "Well, it's the best chance we have," Hermione said firmly. "Did they tell you anything else, Harriet?"

Telling them that Blaise had been granted them as a reward didn't seem to have much point other than to worry the other two, so she kept quiet. Better if they didn't dwell on it. "Not really," she said.

Severus looked down at the note in his hand. He hadn't thought it wise to trust news like this to writing, so it simply asked that Robin visit as soon as he was able. He was almost reluctant to even tell Robin that Harriet was missing, but it wasn't something he could hide for long.

He looked around his son's little flat, wishing again that he could do better for Robin. But the boy was right, living at Hogwarts would be impractical, though he spent so much time there lately that Severus wasn't so sure anymore. He laid the note down on the floor just in front of the door, where Robin couldn't help but see it when he came in, then flicked his wand at the bed, snapping the blankets neatly into place. The clothes in a pile by the laundry basket were easily scooped up into the receptacle, and he straightened a fallen pile of books. He knew he was just procrastinating, not wanting to return to Hogwarts where he'd have to pretend to be more concerned about Blaise than Harriet and Hermione. Madam Zabini had been incandescent with rage when told he'd managed to 'lose' her precious son, and had no knowledge of his whereabouts. Severus didn't know what to do next, and didn't know if he should be informing the Dark Lord of Harriet's disappearance. Dumbledore had been no help, confused and unsure as to the best course of action. The old wizard still didn't believe that the girls had been taken to Voldemort, but Severus wasn't sure.

He'd have to share the news soon, he supposed. It could only be so long until even the Slytherin children started to wonder where their classmates were, and thus the information may reach the Dark Lord's ears. He didn't eagerly await the inevitable bout of cruciatus that would come the with unexpected news that her location was unknown.