Disclaimer: see chapter 1.

Help!

by Katta (KET on ff.net) (katta_t2002@yahoo.co.uk)

Chapter 6

Finally it seemed that Hermione was not going to get any more information from Micky's mother and she was beginning to feel slightly sick from the thick cigarette smoke. So she rose and took out her cheque book.

'I'm very happy to give you the £100. Is a cheque alright, Mrs Maguire?' she asked.

The woman looked up and hesitated for a moment. Hermione thought she was about to say that she didn't have a cheque account, but instead she leant forward and put a hand on Hermione's arm. She looked into her eyes and said, 'I like you young lady. I'm going to tell you something I've never told a living soul in 22 years, not even Micky.' She stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts. Then she said, 'It isn't Mrs Maguire. There never was a Mr Maguire.'

Hermione was slightly startled, but she came from a generation where most young people live together rather than get married, at least not straight away. And children born out of wedlock is wholly unexceptional. 'Ehrr…,' she said, uncertain what she was being told.

'I was raped,' said the woman and Hermione suddenly stiffened. The full impact of the statement in combination with the physical similarity between Micky and Snape hit her like a cricket bat between the eyes. She forced herself to stay very calm.

'Would you like to tell me about it?' she said gently. 'In confidence, of course. I wouldn't dream of printing anything about it.'

Mary Maguire seemed to have forgotten that Hermione was meant to be a journalist and was momentarily slightly disoriented, but then she began her story.

'I came over here to get a job, but I really didn't know anyone. I lived in this old house – it was awful, cockroaches, outside privy. And I had this cleaning job which started after the office closed and finished at two in the morning. There were no buses at that time of night, so I had to walk home.' She stopped and thought briefly about those dark times. 'Then one night I was jumped by a group of men. Strange men dressed in black robes with silver masks. They dragged me into a disused warehouse and, and …' Again she stopped as she collected her thoughts. 'There was one – the ringleader – he didn't rape me himself, but he egged the others on. There were four others.'

Hermione shivered.

'The first three were really eager. But the fourth was a young lad. Younger than Micky is now and he didn't want to do it. But the others goaded him until he did. I'll never forget his eyes burning into mine, full of fright. He whispered he was sorry and I think I believed him. I always thought he was the father. Micky had his eyes.'

It was almost too much to bear. Too much information. Hermione shivered again.

'Then just after that, a police car screeched to a halt outside the building, siren blaring. All five of them just disappeared. Pop! I scrabbled out the back entrance. I didn't want to talk to the police. And then I found I was pregnant. I was only 17 – I had no idea what to do. Abortion is a sin, isn't it. That was what I was taught by the priests back home anyway. And I wouldn't have had the money anyway. So I had Micky and invented Mr Maguire.'

Suddenly the woman smiled, revealing big gaps among her stained teeth.

'But it wasn't so bad. I got this flat from the council!' She proudly swept round the room with her arm. Hermione stared in disbelief at the damp, draughty room, unable to comprehend that anyone could be proud of this dump with drug dealers hanging round the bottom of the broken lift.

'Indoor bathroom!' the woman stated proudly as if this explained everything. 'And Micky – he is a good boy really. Always been kind to me.' True mother's pride.

***

Hermione was shell shocked when she got out of the flat. She disapparated straight from the landing rather than face the drug dealer, hardly caring whether anyone saw her. She had given the first address which came into her head, which was London. The address being a bit vague, the magic deposited her where it thought the centre of London might be, which turned out to be the steps of the British Museum. Relieved to be out of the smoky flat, Hermione drifted into the museum. She had been there many times and knew it well. While trying to process the information she had received, she wandered aimlessly past the beautiful Elgin marbles, bizarrely displaced from the Greek sun to this dismal rainy island. Of course, being a witch, Hermione could see what muggles missed – that even after thousands of years the horses still pranced and tossed their heads.

Mrs Maguire, Miss Maguire, whatever, Mary Maguire, had been raped 22 years ago. By a group of men who had worn black robes and masks and had subsequently disapparated. Death Eaters without a doubt. But why had they not oblivated her or killed her? When she thought about it, Hermione knew the answer to that too: they had been surprised by the muggle police. And then she hadn't told anyone what had happened so they hadn't been able to trace her.

Now Hermione had to consider the bit of the story that hurt the most. The last of them had been very young. Snape had been 20 at the time, her mind supplied helpfully. And Micky Maguire was the spitting image of Snape. Now she was beginning to understand the shock that had caused both Snape and Dumbledore to walk out on her. Add then the magic displayed by the young Micky. And – most chillingly – the death mark hovering over his burglaries. What on earth had happened? Again, her mind supplied the answer. Malfoy. It had to be. Voldemort was dead, but Malfoy had escaped justice and was still out there. And now he had somehow got his claws into Snape's son. There was really no other explanation.

Hermione emerged into the late summer afternoon sunshine. After the cool shadow of the museum, she was slightly dazed and so she didn't react immediately tohe familiar figure in a black coat walking down the street. Then her brain caught up.

'Severus!' she shouted.

The man turned round and for a moment their eyes met. Then he began to run in the direction of Tottenham Court Road. She ran after him, but got caught in the crowds of tired tourists. She glimpsed him twice ahead of her but by the time she reached Oxford Street, he was long gone in the crowd.

***

Snape's heart constricted in a sudden cramp when he saw her. Hermione! He had hardly given her a thought since he had walked out of the house four days ago. What on earth had she thought? Probably that it confirmed all her earlier suspicions that he was a deeply rude and unpleasant man. He muttered, '"Nevermore," quoth the Raven', causing a group of Japanese tourists to turn round in surprise, and let that thought twist in his breast for a while. What was she doing here? It had obviously been a mistake for him to browse around the bookshops of Bloomsbury. Served him right. He was only trying to put off the inevitable anyway. He should be getting on with the task in hand: finding Malfoy.

For Snape had no doubt now that Malfoy  was at the bottom of this. He now understood that strange threat uttered at the last Death Eaters meeting -  'your own flesh and blood' indeed. This was a race against time and he had to find Malfoy. He didn't dare to apparate in case that drew unwanted attention. So he sighed and consulted his muggle A to Z. Malfoy had two residences in the London area – a flat in Sloane Square and a house in Virginia Waters. Sloane Square seemed to be on the tube. With another sigh, he set off for the nearest tube station.