"HARRRRYYYYYYY….!" Ron's anguished wail rent the air.
This, Hermione thought distantly, is what it feels like if someone takes a meat-hook and wrenches the insides out of your body. This, she thought, is what happens when the fundamental bindings of the universe unravel, and everything begins to fall apart. This is how Harry felt when Sirius died; how he has been feeling ever since. And now ––
Her shriek of utter fury succeeded in making Snape turn his head. His expression was so blank and mask-like he looked almost bored. But he was livid white, and sweat was pouring down his face.
Like tears, Hermione thought feverishly. Sweat is pouring down Snape's face like tears…
"You..you –" she could not push the words out from behind her grief and loathing.
"Miss Granger," he acknowledged her distantly. Then, turning and kneeling, and with profound reverence: "My lord."
"You have done well," hissed Voldemort's shade. "I am pleased."
"I live but to serve my master," whispered Snape.
"These," said Voldemort, waving a hand at Hermione and the sobbing Ron. "Despatch them."
"Yes, my lord, I thought, my lord, it would be more fitting if I simply took back the potions which enable them to return, and left them here – helpless and bound, as you see, while the Bane Birds…" Snape cast an eloquent glance upwards at the circling predators with their beaks of bone.
Voldemort's gash of a mouth stretched into what might have been a smile. "As you wish. Now, I tire… I must sleep soon… Walk with me a little way, Snape, and we can discuss our future plans before I depart."
Snape inclined his head deeply and rose to his feet. He walked out of the clearing, pace for pace with the shade of Voldemort.
"Kaaaa – aaaa – aaaa."
Sunset soon, Hermione thought hopelessly. If only Sirius would come. But even anxiety about her own and Ron's situation was smothered beneath her all-encompassing grief.
For it to end like this. Harry: the Boy Who Died; and at the hands of Snape, whom the Order trusted.
"Kaaaa – aaaa – aaaa."
Hermione wished she was close enough to Harry to swat that damned bird away. Its jagged beak was hovering just above Harry's closed eyes.
Which flickered, and then opened. Hermione gaped; she could almost have sworn she heard a small groan come from between Harry's lips.
Hermione screwed up her eyes, and looked again.
"H…H…Harry?" It's the Land of the Living Dead, she thought frantically. Maybe he's come back. But no, surely that was not possible, not possible…
Harry blinked at her wonderingly and managed to shape his mouth into a smile.
"I feel as though I've been kicked by a mule," Harry whispered hoarsely. "But I'm alive. Ron, Hermione, really. I'm alive."
Harry's voice had penetrated the wall of grief surrounding Ron. He, too, gaped at Harry, his jaw dropping, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face. Tears and mucous still dripped down his nose and cheeks.
"Maybe," he said in awe, sniffing heavily, "maybe that curse just doesn't work against you, Harry! I mean, that's the second time!"
Harry grinned.
"Yeah, right.."
"Or maybe," Snape cut across them softly, "you just don't listen, Potter."
Harry, Hermione and Ron all stiffened and turned their heads in the direction of his voice. Snape had approached on cat-like feet; he was standing just a few yards away, implacable in black, with his arms folded across his chest.
"No!" Hermione whispered, her eyes dilating.
"I told you, Potter," continued Snape, "to recall what Bellatrix Lestrange had said to you in the Ministry of Magic. Tell me, Potter. What did she say?" He was strolling towards Harry as he spoke.
"She said – well, she said I couldn't win against her," Harry said flatly, gazing at Snape in bemusement. Snape had taken from his pocket what looked like a pen-knife. He eyed the blade with some trepidation. He was not sure he liked having Snape so close to his throat with a knife. "She, er, she said I could never hope to compete."
"And what about the Unforgivable Curses, Potter?" Snape asked. He was sawing through the bindweed. The sun was beginning to lower yet further in the sky. More Bane Birds began to circle down towards them. The one hovering above Harry's head clacked its beak expectantly.
Snape muttered crossly, and dug in his pocket. "NUTRIRENS!" he shouted, casting bread as far away from them as possible. Hermione and Ron were watching him suspiciously. They were not convinced this was not just some other ploy.
"The Unforgivable Curses, Potter. What did she tell you about them?"
"She said," Harry's voice slowed. "She said 'You need to mean them'. She said you cannot cast an Unforgivable Curse properly unless you really want to hurt the person." Harry looked down. Snape was sawing at the bindweed around his legs. "You didn't, did you? That's why I'm alive…"
"Then why the bloody hell," Ron half-shouted through his blocked nose, "did you put us through all this?"
Harry, freed of his bonds, sat down with his back against the tree. His legs didn't feel quite ready to hold him up yet. Snape released Ron, dug in his pocket, and passed him a large handkerchief.
"Here you are, Mr Weasley. And before you ask, treat it as a gift. I do not want it back."
Snape paused.
"Consider. Dumbledore had sent me here to protect you. Once I was here, Voldemort summoned me to tell me to kill you. And he was going to stand at my shoulder, watching to make sure I fulfilled his…demands. You are very vulnerable in this land, Harry… By the time the Dark Lord realizes that you are not in fact dead, you will, I trust be safely back at Hogwarts."
"Oh," Harry said blankly. "Er, Professor Snape – I'm sorry I thought you were, well, trying to murder me."
"I was working very hard to give the Dark Lord that impression. If I were not even capable of fooling you, Potter, I would have remarkably little chance of ever fooling Lord Voldemort. However.." Snape stopped sawing at Hermione's ropes for a moment and stared out into the approaching night, his hair shrouding his face. "I would like you to be aware, Potter, that I did not actually – enjoy – the experience."
"Yeah well, you fooled us all right!" said Ron grumpily. His voice still shook somewhat. "It was that whole death curse thing that did it! Well convincing, that was!"
Snape drew out his bottle of water and took a long swig. Three pairs of eyes followed it longingly.
"You mean – Oh, tell me you did at least bring water!"
With resignation, he handed the flask over to Harry, who took a careful swig.
"It's charmed to AutoRefresh, Potter. You may all drink freely." Snape watched them sardonically. "And now, finally, we can find our way back to Hogwarts. I shall rarely have been so glad to return to its confines."
Harry stared at him. "But, Sirius: we haven't got him yet!"
Snape raised his eyebrows and looked haughtily down his nose at them.
"We need three things though," Hermione chipped in, fixing Snape with a look Harry could not quite interpret. "We need a spoonful of grain, a hank of raw wool, and a handful of salt."
"And we don't know how to get them, since anything we took we would have to pay for…"
"Your point?" Snape addressed himself to Hermione.
"I think you could get those for us." She had a most determined look on her face.
"And why on earth, Miss Granger, do you think I would do this? You may have noticed that I have just gone to really quite some trouble to release you from the attentions of the Dark Lord. Do you suppose I wish to waste all that effort, and return and tell Professor Dumbledore that I then went and mislaid you in the Palace of Bones?"
" 'Why on earth?' Because we are not on earth." Hermione stated. "This is the Land of Mag Mell. And you owe us."
"I beg your pardon!" Snape grated.
"Yeah, too right!" Ron suddenly caught up with where Hermione was going with this. "We've had serious grief here! Not to mention you made Harry think he was about to die. You owe us. You know, that whole 'payment must be made' thingy they have going on here.."
Snape scrutinized them with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he let out a vexed sigh.
"If you insist," he said finally, "who am I to stand between you and your own destruction?"
He reached into his pockets. "Grain. Wool. Salt. Such," he said ironically, "are among those items the well-equipped traveller to the Underworld never goes without. Not that you need to know this, Potter. Because you will never be coming back here. Or at least not until long after you have graduated and ceased to be in any way my responsibility. Is that understood?"
Harry's face wore an expression of gathering hope. "You mean – you have the stuff? And you'll let us do it?"
Snape rolled his eyes upwards. "That is what I have just said, Potter. I was not aware that bodged death curses affected the ears. However, you must be quick, and you must be careful. It would not be ….advisable for us to be here when the Dark Lord re-awakes his shade."
Harry beamed. It was worth nearly dying (again) to have another shot at getting Sirius back.