Chapter 11: Spill
Ginny launched into a hug as soon as she opened the door to him.
"Neville! I was just making tea. Come in!"
"Hi, Ginny, actually I just stopped by to ask Harry something -"
"Oh, he's not home yet, he said they're all being called in for extra shifts tonight. I'm having Hermione over, we thought we might as well take the chance to have a really proper girls' night for once. We'd make an exception for you, though. Can you stay?"
"I really have to run," said Neville, trying to sound regretful. "Can you have Harry Floo me right away?"
"Why don't you just go see him?"
"What?"
"At the Ministry. Just sign in at the DMLE entrance; they'll let you in."
"Really?"
"Of course, Neville," she said, laughing. "I drop by with dinner sometimes when he needs to work late. There - you can save me a trip. I'll pack a sandwich, and you can bring it to him."
"Well, if you think it's all right…"
She just laughed at that, and a few minutes later Neville was bundled off through the Floo with a brown paper parcel for Harry.
The Ministry corridors were quiet at first. It was after hours, but the entrance to the main DMLE wing was open. Just as Ginny said, he was let in without trouble. There was a security gate before he reached the Auror department, but the witch on duty didn't give much more than a glance to him and his parcel. "They're busy tonight dear," she said as he signed the log book and turned in his wand, "be in and out, all right?"
Busy was hardly the word; it looked like the whole department was in turmoil. Floos were puffing on and off so frequently that the ash was forming little drifts at their hearths. Announcements were sounding across the open 'pit' where the lower-ranking desks were crowded below the raised walk that led to warrens of corridors and private offices. Aurors and clerks were forming groups and breaking apart again, hurrying into offices and carrying stacks of files.
How in the world could he find Harry in all of that? His desk must be somewhere in the pit; he'd heard Ron complaining that they didn't have private offices yet. Neville went down the short flight of stairs from the walkway and started edging between the desks, squinting at nameplates and dodging Aurors. The announcements coming from a witch on a raised dais using a Sonorus only added to the chaos.
"Officers Shah and Howlett, report to room 374."
Neville could hear whistles and laughter.
"Briefing in ten minutes."
"Mandatory briefing in ten."
A collective groan rose up from the pit.
"Frank!"
"Officer Shambrook, you are requested in the owlery."
Neville tried to edge through a narrow gap between desks without toppling the stacks of files balanced on them.
"Little Frank, Frankie junior!"
A hand landed on Neville's shoulder and he turned with a start.
"It is little Frank, Frank's boy!"
He was looking into a broad soft face, grey eyes and grizzled cheeks.
The man stuck out a hand. "Ollie Bibwell. Bibby. Worked with your dad for years."
"Uh, it's Neville, actually."
The man didn't release his hand at once. "Course, course. Met you once, your dad brought you around the department. He was proud as proud, don't suppose you remember, just a baby then…"
He tucked Neville's hand into the crook of his arm and ushered him along between the desks. "Briefing, Bibs," someone called as they passed. Bibwell gave a dismissive wave.
"All of us proud. Frank's boy, fighting the good fight, eh?"
Neville gave a nervous chuckle.
"Thought we'd see you in the ranks one day. Eh, well…"
He pulled Neville through a narrow gap between two desks and sat him in a wooden swivel chair that gave a startlingly loud squeak. Bibwell planted his rear on the neighboring desk and looked Neville up and down.
"Good to see you - the image of your dad. Fine man. Ah, it was a bloody shame that." He looked down. "Your dad - he's comfortable, and… and all that?"
"Yeah, he's -"
"Just that they said he wasn't recognizing anyone, so what was the use? Not that I didn't want to. My mam ended up in St. Mungos. It's the smell of the place. Turns my stomach. Wouldn't be any good to anyone, right?"
"Of course," said Neville.
"But you tell him Bibby asked after him, all right? Bibby. Maybe ring a bell…"
He leaned in, making the desk shift. "Listen. You can rest easy on that, boy. We paid them back, no fear. What they did to your dad was fast, what they got was slow, you can rest assured on that, all debts are paid."
Neville had a strong desire to stand up from the wobbly chair and back away, but Bibwell's hand was pressing heavily on his shoulder again.
"Seriously, Bibwell? Can't you sit on your own damn desk?" A woman was trying to get to her chair. Bibwell snorted and squeezed close to Neville to let her by.
"Briefing's in five, anyway," she went on.
Bibwell shrugged. "I did the six o'clock briefing. You go ahead."
"Fine." She pulled a thick file out of her drawer and stalked away.
"All a load of rubbish, anyway," said Bibwell. "All they had to do was keep the dementors around, and we'd never have this sort of trouble again. See anyone coming up with plots and plans when they can't string two thoughts together."
"Er, I've really got to be going. I just came by to drop something off for Harry but I couldn't find his desk…"
Bibwell waved his hand in the vague direction of another part of the pit. "Just over there. There's no hurry now, is there? Look, I… I meant to drop it by for him. But there wasn't any hurry about that either, and him not recognizing anyone in any case."
"What?" said Neville.
"It's only right that you have it." Bibwell started rooting through a desk drawer. "Ah!" From deep in the drawer, he pulled out a photo and thrust it into Neville's hands. It was a bit cracked at the edges, but the figures inside were still moving. His father, much younger of course, in an office, someone was presenting him with something, they were shaking hands. Bibwell reached over his shoulder and touched the picture.
"There he is, tapped by Crouch. Elite squad."
That must be Crouch, pinning the badge to his dad's chest. It glinted in the light. There were others at the fringes of the room. Was that a younger Alastor Moody? It was a bit hard to tell, he had several more body parts than when Neville had last seen him.
"Hand picked! Oh, he was proud as proud. Not too proud to remember his friends, though. One of us ever needed a bit of extra clearance for this or that, he'd 'forget' his badge at his desk overnight, pick it up again in the morning. A bit of extra clearance never hurt anyone, and he knew it. 'I've a terrible memory,' he'd say. Never too proud to think of his friends, fine man. Won't hear a word against him."
Neville remembered the badge. His gran had it in a special box in her drawer with photos of his parents. They used to sit together on the sofa sometimes and go through it. The badge had always been heavy in his hands, and he'd loved running his fingers over the bronze sunburst of the Auror department.
"Kept that around to remember him by. I mean, not that he's gone, just ah… happier times. You show that to your dad. Tell him Bibby sent it. Maybe it'll ring a bell, bring back a good time or two, the times we had…"
"Bibwell!" The woman was back, looking very annoyed. "There wasn't any six o'clock briefing. It's the one mandatory briefing, now, for everyone."
"There wasn't?" said Bibwell innocently.
"No. Get your arse in there, Bibwell."
Bibwell reluctantly edged out past the desk. "You come by again, now, and you give that to your dad. From Bibby."
"Right," said Neville into the empty air. The pit was clearing out quickly as officers headed to what must be the briefing room, pressing badges into an indentation by the door.
Hell, he'd never catch Harry now, and who knew how long a briefing could last. At least he could leave the sandwich on his desk, and maybe a note. He made his way over to the side of the pit that Bibwell had waved at. Harry's desk was there, close to Ron's. He would have recognized them both without the nameplates by the family photos. He left the sandwich and cast around for a scrap of paper on the clutter of the desk.
Harry -
Please floo me as soon as you can, it's urgent.
Neville
Nothing left to do there, Neville started up the short flight of stairs out of the pit behind Harry's desk. The walkway around to the entrance had doorways leading off: Brooms, Equipment, Owlery, Records, indentations by each door.
Neville slowed. It would be a bit ridiculous if it still worked, he thought. Shouldn't it have been decommissioned or something of the sort? But it had been there somewhere in Bibwell's torrent of words, 'a bit of extra clearance never hurt anyone.'
After all, Harry and Ron said they didn't have clearance to view all the records, hadn't they? They couldn't tell where Goyle had been living as a parolee, so chances were, the woman's location would be restricted too.
Neville walked slowly back to Harry's desk. No one was around but a few clerks at the edges, and they didn't seem to be taking any notice. He picked up his note from Harry's desk. No, Harry wouldn't be any help this time.
Draco sighed. It was not his idea of a pleasant evening, but if he tried to delay it again, he'd never hear the end of it.
"What about the Parkinsons?" his mother said.
"Pansy... look Mother, we're not -"
"Of course not, darling. But you must learn to look ahead. It will be the first event for them to show off their new grandchild. The focus will be very much on the baby. That is perfect for us. We don't want to create a stir. We are looking for normalization."
Draco sighed again. "Yes, mother."
Narcissa had been leaning on him for holiday party invitations for months. It was rather late now, but she still wanted one more go at it. He had told her that any hint of desperation would do more harm than good. She'd bristled at the suggestion that she was desperate in any way. "It's for the family, dear." By the particular inflection she put on 'family,' he knew she meant Father. When he had finally put in an appearance at Draco's last visit, it was apparent that he hadn't shaved in several days. It was not a good sign.
Just after his father's release from Azkaban, Narcissa had held them both close and said that now they were together again, they could survive anything. At the time, Draco was elated as well, thinking that perhaps their awful isolation was over, but it wasn't, and being his parents' only social outlet for the last two years had become quite suffocating.
Things actually hadn't been quite so bad immediately after the war. Narcissa had the other Azkaban wives on her side then. Not that anyone was throwing lavish parties at the time, but the quiet chats over long lunches and wine commiserating about how things had gone kept them all going. But then Snape had returned from the not-quite-so-dead-after-all, and testified to Lucius' cooperation with his spying during the war. Lucius' sentence was reduced to time served.
The release was a horribly mixed blessing. Narcissa had done her best to play down Lucius' involvement with Snape. "Oh, it was all lies, of course," she told the Azkaban wives. "Snape was attempting to pay back the many favors Lucius has done him over the years. You know you can't believe a word that man says. To think that my Lucius conspired with some half-blood against the Dark Lord? Why, it's laughable."
But the friendships with the other Azkaban wives evaporated, one by one. Narcissa had put a good face on it, covering with talk about how 'busy everyone is, nowadays,' until she received the cut direct from Lucinda McNair while shopping at Madam Malkins'. "As if she were anyone at all," Narcissa had declared bravely. But Draco could see the desperation behind the bluster. His mother had never been without friends in her life. And now it seemed almost impossible to make new ones. After all, a reduction of his father's sentence to times served was hardly a stellar endorsement of the family on the side of all that was right and good. They weren't drawing holiday invitations from the Weasleys or the Yaxleys at the moment.
"The Zabinis," Narcissa said.
There was a creak, then a faint steady noise from the ceiling above. Father was pacing again.
Draco shook his head. "His mother's with her new husband on the continent, and I think Blaise is just having a - party at his club."
"Well, a party…"
"Not that sort of party, Mother." He really didn't want to have to explain a rave to her.
Narcissa sighed. "There's been such a falling off in the good families," she said as she took a slice of the game pie. "No one sticks together anymore."
"Look, Mother, we just can't force it. If we let it come naturally -"
"Then it may never come. We have been doing this longer than you have, darling. It wasn't easy after the first war either, but we worked our way back, and it was not by sitting on our - in any case, we haven't discussed your prospects yet."
Draco stifled a groan.
"Darling, the proper alliance will open doors for all of us. I don't expect immediate invitations. But if you are included as a 'plus one,' and become normalized at events, we will follow. Now, I've prepared a list of unattached -"
There was the creaking thump of the brass knocker on the front door. Draco stood quickly. "I'll get it, Mother."
"Don't be silly, dear, let the elf -"
The knock came again.
"If they made it through the wards on the grounds, it's probably Ministry," Draco said, though the knock didn't have that particular Auror tone. "Wouldn't do to have the elves just let them waltz in."
"We have absolutely nothing to hide, dear."
Draco could hear his father's footsteps crossing the room above.
"Well, perhaps you had better," Narcissa said.
Draco made his escape from the sitting room and crossed the entrance hall. The knock came again. He flicked open the viewhole. It was Snape. Oh, bloody perfect. If his father came down…
He hurriedly pulled the door open a few inches and leaned out.
"Sir, uh…"
"Draco."
"Look, sir, I don't -"
"I need to speak to your mother."
"It really isn't -"
"Who is it, dear?" came his mother's voice. He heard steps on the stairs. He slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind him.
"Sir, it's not a good time."
"I need to speak to her now, Draco."
Draco felt the knob pull away from his hand as the door opened behind him. His father was stood in the doorway, in his dressing gown, unshaven.
"You come here, after two years, to speak to my wife?" he said in a low voice.
"Yes," said Snape.
"Oh, do come in," said Narcissa over them all. "It's ridiculous to be spilling out all over the stoop." She was taking Lucius by the elbow and angling him away from the door. "How lovely of you to drop by, Severus, it has been far too long, yes, come in. Draco and I were just having a light supper in the sitting room."
Lucius was staring at Snape stone-faced.
"Now, why don't you two catch up and then join us?"
She gripped Draco's shoulder and steered him firmly towards the sitting room.
"Wait, Mother."
But she was already closing the door behind them.
"Mother."
"Have a seat, Draco."
"We can't just let them -"
"They have things to discuss, dear."
Draco could hear a snatch of raised voices from the hall. "- Jumped-up half-breed!"
"That's not a discussion."
"Sit down, dear, you've hardly touched your tea."
"Mother, they'll -"
"Three years in that place!" came a voice from the hall.
"No they won't."
"- happy enough to join!"
"I've known them longer than you have," she went on.
"- think you could have lived with winning?"
"Longer than you have been alive."
"- would have destroyed your whole family -"
"They need to talk it out, dear."
"You think they're just talking?"
" - had us all killed!"
"It's much better out than in."
" - destroyed everything you ever loved -"
She patted his knee. There was a muffled thump from the hall.
"They won't draw wands. They know I won't have that in the house."
A series of short thuds.
"Really, it was very foolish of Severus to have left it so long."
There was a heavy silence from the hall. Narcissa paused with the teapot half-raised. The voices resumed, just a low distant murmur now. Narcissa poured.
"You see, darling?"
Draco drank.
The door opened a few minutes later. Lucius looked disshevelled but smug. Snape's nose was bleeding. He took a seat on the settee.
Narcissa clicked her tongue. "Not on the upholstery, Severus, really. You're being petty."
Snape didn't bother denying the charge. "I have a question for you."
"For goodness sake, Severus, take a serviette, there's some on the tray."
"I doubt I'm in danger of bleeding to death," he said archly, "this time." But he took a serviette and dabbed at his nose.
Lucius helped himself to the game pie. He had a satisfied look that Draco hadn't seen for the past few years.
"Narcissa. What do you know about Stephanie Coates?" asked Snape.
"Who, Yaxley's little friend? I'm sure I hardly know her at all," she said dismissively as she poured Lucius a cup of tea.
He didn't take it from her hand immediately, a smile spreading slowly across his face.
"What?" she said.
"Spill, dear."
Draco let his breath out in a small sigh. His parents were doing Snape a favor. It felt like a very small piece of the proper order of things slipping back into place.
"I doubt there's very much to say," said Narcissa. "It's not as though she's anyone. Well, Coates. Lesser branch of the Rees family, not very notable. You know she was a few years ahead of us in Hogwarts, so I didn't know her well at the time. Pippa Plunkett's older sister roomed with her, I believe. She called her 'Post.' Always a bit of a striver. Privy to all the personal correspondence of course, liked to hold on to the choicest tidbits. Quite passable at transfiguration, I suppose, she must have been if one believes what they say."
Draco wasn't sure what his mother was getting at.
"At any rate, she took a Ministry clerkship after she graduated. Registration or something of the sort. That was rich, considering what she got up to. You'd think mail clerk would be more fitting. I believe that was where Yaxley met her. She claimed to support the cause. I hardly know, but at least she was quite an avid hanger-on. I wouldn't swear that Yaxley was the only one she hung on to. Dear Lavinia Yaxley never knew. Not surprising, the way the Coates woman could come and go as she pleased. I never understood what Yaxley saw in her. Such filthy birds."
She sipped at her tea. Snape was looking at her thoughtfully.
"Understood," he said.
Draco wasn't sure he understood, but he was beginning to get an idea.
"Any family property?" asked Snape.
"Nothing to speak of. Some flat on the Alley back when she worked for the Ministry, I believe. But no secret 'nest,' if that's what you're thinking of," she said with a smile.
"Thank you, Narcissa." He turned to Lucius. "By the way, Ed's out."
Lucius stopped with his cup halfway to his lips. "Nott?"
"Ministry didn't bother to tell you, did they? It's been two days. You'll want to reset all your wards. If I could make it through…"
Lucius stood abruptly. "Draco. See Severus out. I'm getting dressed, then we go out to the perimeter.
Draco felt vaguely disappointed that Snape had managed to pay back the favor so soon. He stepped out on the stoop with Snape and pulled the door closed behind them. A cold drizzle was darkening the flagstones.
"Sir, it's about Goyle, isn't it?"
Snape didn't answer, not that he needed to.
"Does he have any chance at all?"
Snape sighed. "Did he ever?"
The DMLE clerk didn't pay much attention to his lie as Neville signed back in. "Forgot to leave him a note, won't take a minute," he said. It felt surprisingly natural, maybe because he'd already tackled lying to Gran.
He'd breezed back in from the Floo as quickly as possible. Gran had tried to talk to him, but he'd called down from the stairs, "sorry, have to run, Ginny asked me to drop something for Harry at his desk. I'll be back in a bit!"
He'd always been terrible at lying to Gran, and she could always tell. But this time, she only said, "you really need to learn to manage your time."
He reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall. He threw open his bedroom door with a thump, then took two silent steps down the hall and opened his gran's door.
Maybe it was that the lie had been partly the truth this time, or that it was so much better than what he was about to do, namely, root through his gran's knickers drawer to 'borrow' one of her prized possessions. At least, he thought, some part of him ought to feel terrible as he ran back downstairs and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his father's badge heavy in his pocket. But that part of himself remained strangely silent as he went through DMLE security, turned in his wand, and stepped back into the Auror department.
It was hard to tell if the briefing was over. There were certainly more people around now, but not the noisy chaos of before. Aurors and clerks were moving with purpose. Neville couldn't see Harry or Ron at their desks, that suited him. If he was quick and purposeful himself, maybe no one would notice him.
He shifted his dad's badge out of its case and into his palm, cupping it in his pocket. A few people were moving along the walkway around the pit, absorbed in their business. Neville walked purposefully to the records room door and slid the badge into the indentation next to the handle. There was a click and the door opened.
It was a dim and crowded space, a labyrinth of tall wooden file cabinets with yellowing labels. He looked at the nearest cabinet, it's label faded almost into illegibility. Aberrant Behavior, 1587 - 1588. Oh, bloody hell, was the whole place organized by infraction? Broom Violations, 1834. Cauldron Offenses 1931 - 1956. All the files were utterly useless. He headed further in, passing from aisle to aisle, glancing at labels. There had to be some way to cross-reference. Most Death Eaters probably had more than a single crime, to start with. If he had his wand, he could have used a Point-Me or Accio, perhaps that's what the Aurors did.
Somewhere behind him he could hear the main door opening, and he quickly ducked through the stacks. He could see the top of someone's head bobbing along to the far end of the room where another door led out.
Perhaps that was the point, low clearance useless files in the front, sensitive documents further in. He hurried to the far side of the room. Yes, there were other doors, labeled with clearance levels. He didn't know which door the other figure had taken, but if he had to take a chance, higher clearance was better. Less chance of other people in the room, better chance for useful information. He pushed his dad's badge into the indentation next to the last door. It clicked open.
It was a much smaller room, no deep maze of cabinets, but open orderly ranks ten across and five deep. No place to hide here, he'd have to be quick. He tried to think of where to find Coates. She wasn't a Death Eater, was she? At least he'd never heard her name among those who'd taken the mark. A low-level supporter, Snape had said, paroled. Fine, but what was she paroled for, exactly?
Neville scanned the labels on the first rank of file cabinets. There was one drawer labeled 'Collaborators,' yes, that might do it. He pulled open the drawer. There were folders, but no names. He still didn't understand the organization, but when he flipped open the one labeled 'Interrogations,' it expanded at once, almost filling the drawer with subfolders by name. Finally. He riffled back through the files as quickly as possible. He'd overshot his mark, but as he was flipping the files back, he stopped staring at the name under his fingers. Snape, Severus.
No, this was absolutely not the time. None of this was about him. But it was his father's badge heavy in his pocket, and Malfoy's claim that his father had interrogated Snape, and Unbreakable Vows of silence, and Bibwell's talk about the good times… He wouldn't read it. No need for that. Just a very quick glance, then back to Coates. He opened the file.
9 September, 1978, 3:07 am. Subject: Snape, Severus.
Present: B. Crouch, F. Longbottom, A. Moody (Binder).
There was a click behind him and the door handle began to turn. Neville snapped the drawer shut and took two steps straight back and flattened himself against the wall behind the opening door. Whoever was entering was walking towards the rear cabinets. Neville didn't bother to look, but stepped around the closing door and out into the main file room. He slipped into the aisles. Maybe he hadn't been seen. He hurried between the cabinets and almost straight into a clerk carrying a stack of files.
Now he'd definitely been seen. The clerk fumbled with his files. "This is not a civilian area."
"Uh, it's not?" said Neville. "I was looking for Harry out on the floor, and someone was just going into this door, so I thought…"
"It's not, you'll have to go straight out."
"Um, where is out? I think I'm a little turned around."
The clerk gave a very long sigh. "This way."
When they reached the entrance the clerk held the door and escorted him through. Well, he'd lost his one chance. Completely useless.
Theo slumped on Daphne's sofa. They'd just doubled her wards, and he felt a bit lightheaded from the blood he'd donated to the cause. The sight of blood always made him a bit queasy.
"There. Aren't we cozy?" said Daphne.
Theo gave her a look.
"You're moping again? God, Nott."
"I don't like being cut out."
She sat next to him. "But you're not, love."
"Really."
"Of course not. It's only temporary. Snape will need to lay the groundwork first."
Theo looked at her blankly.
"Isn't it obvious? If your dad's after your portkey skills… well, once Snape has everything set, he'll use you as bait. You'll be right in the middle of everything, dear. It just makes sense."
It did make sense. It was probably down to the four hours of Auror questioning that he didn't see it straight off. "Thank you ever so much for the reassurance."
She patted his knee. "Put on some music and try not to be so tragic. I'll make us drinks."
She went out to the kitchen. Theo turned to the stereo system he had rigged up for her a few years ago to be magic-compatible.
"What do you want?" he called to her.
"Put on that one you gave me, you know, Shady Lady."
Theo snorted. She was being nice to him, but a good tune was a good tune. He found 'The Complete Peggy Lee' and cued up Shady Lady Bird. Goodman's tightly orchestrated intro was just starting when there was a bright flash and pop from the hall leading to the front door. Someone was trying to get through the wards. Theo pushed himself off the sofa and drew his wand. Daphne was already headed to the door viewhole, a bottle of vodka in one hand. She checked it, and started opening the door.
"It's okay, it's just Zach."
Theo tucked his wand away and sat again. He could see Daphne touch Zach's hand to let him across the wards, then give Zach a kiss and lock the door. "I'm just making drinks. Do you want one?"
"Sure," said Zach.
She started back to the kitchen.
"What's with the extra -" Zach began, stepping into the sitting room. He saw Theo.
"Hi, Zach," said Theo.
"Daphne," Zach called, "uh, why do you have Theo Nott in your flat?"
"'S' all right," called Daphne from the kitchen. "He's just hiding out for a few days."
Zach backed out towards the kitchen. "Hiding out?"
"You know, dark market stuff. He just needs to lay low for a while."
A bottle clinked against a glass.
"You're harboring a criminal?"
Daphne laughed. "Don't be silly. Of course I am."
"Daphne!"
"Come on. I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about standing by your friends."
"Well, yes, but our friends aren't criminals."
"What, none of them?"
"No!"
"None? Are you sure?"
"No! I mean… they would have told me if they were."
"Not with an attitude like that, they wouldn't."
"What?"
"Sometimes you're a little judgy, dear. It doesn't make people want to open up to you."
"Daphne, stop, you're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"You're changing the subject."
"All right," she said reasonably, "what subject do you want to talk about?"
"Nott. Your sitting room."
"Yes. He's staying a few days."
"But… where is he going to sleep?"
"The sofa. Unless you've been thinking about my suggestion - "
"No!"
"See? You do get judgy."
"Daphne, can we please talk about this?"
Theo could hear the bedroom door opening off the hall.
"We are talking about it…"
The door shut. Theo sighed. That was going to go on for a while. And knowing Daphne, they would have to make up when they were done fighting. If he wanted a drink, he'd have to make it himself.
The music followed him faintly as he went down the hall to the kitchen, bright brassy notes and Peggy Lee's smooth voice floating over it all. It looked like Daphne had been making vodka martinis. He poured a generous glass from the shaker and took an extra olive. The voices from the bedroom were down to a low murmur.
He took the drink in a couple of swallows. That was a mistake, he felt it immediately. He didn't have his full supply of blood at the moment, and the hours of questioning didn't help. Food - that's what he needed. Daphne wasn't much for cooking, but if she had at least the basics on hand he could make himself an egg sandwich or something. He took a few more olives as he started looking for the cold cupboard. When he stood up from leaning over to look in the lower cupboards, his vision sparkled and he felt a wave of dizziness.
He held onto the counter and breathed slowly as the head rush cleared. His pale reflection swayed in the windows to the back balcony. No, he wasn't swaying that much. There was a white shape outside on the balcony, moving behind his reflection.
He froze, trying to make out what it was. A pale face with black eyes. He caught his breath and let it out in relief. It was just an owl on the balcony railing, it's shape blurred by the rain-streaked glass.
"Daphne? You've got an owl," he called.
There was no answer from the bedroom. Well, it was going to have to wait. He wasn't about to let down the wards for a bloody letter. Was it a letter? The owl was holding something.
He took another olive and stepped closer to the window. Something like a dark swath of cloth hung from one of its talons. He chewed the olive, That was odd. Not a letter or a package, and people usually didn't send post owls around delivering scarves or whatever that was.
But it wasn't a scarf exactly, he could see now that it was bigger than that, broader. A whole cloak? It was rising up, he had it all backwards. It was a figure in a cloak, owl on its shoulder, turning to face him.
Theo drew his wand, holding on to the counter with his other hand.
Goyle.
Theo reached the door in a couple of steps. The owl turned and shifted on Goyle's shoulder, then spread its wings. The white shape wavered in the glass.
It wasn't an owl at all. It was a woman with one hand on the back of Goyle's neck and her wand pressed against his throat. Goyle's face was a rictus of fear.
Open the door, the woman mouthed at Theo through the glass.
He shook his head. The wards should stop anything. Almost anything. If she turned her wand on him he could duck behind the counter. He seemed preternaturally aware of each note of 'Sunny Side of the Street' in the next room.
The woman yanked on the back of Goyle's neck, and the two of them moved forward with a few awkward steps. The woman mouthed, 'open the door,' at him again.
Theo didn't move. He could call for Daphne, but having Zach come in the room probably wouldn't help matters.
The woman angled her wand against Goyle's neck and gestured at the door. Theo shook his head. She cast something and blood bloomed from the side of Goyle's head. He clasped his hand against his face and lurched sideways, she yanked him by the back of his neck and cast again, but Goyle was shoving her away and stumbling forward, blinded by the blood. The woman slipped on the balcony and went down, scrambling for her wand.
Theo wrenched the door open. "Goyle, this way!"
Hell, he wouldn't be able to cross the wards, not unless he was touching Theo. Theo stretched out an arm; Goyle flailed forward and their hands met. Goyle's hand clamped hard on his, and he pulled Theo bodily out onto the balcony. Somewhere behind him he could hear Daphne calling his name. Goyle grabbed his wand hand and twisted his wrist until his fingers opened. The woman was up now, seizing both of them, and apparated them away.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! And thank you again, anonymous reviewers, since I can't thank you directly.