Severus was walking through the Great Hall at Hogwarts, weaving his way through the chattering clusters of senior students decked out in their best robes and finery. The Hall decorations were extremely over-the-top as usual, causing him to roll his eyes for a second as he took it all in. The house tables had been removed and smaller round tables dotted the edge of the room leaving a large cleared area for dancing. The music was buoyant and cheerful and was the cause of the scowl now plastered across his face.
He hated large scale celebrations like this with a passion and decided to go outside to patrol the gardens to ensure no-one got carried away in the heat of the moment. A sly smile quirked the corners of his mouth - it was the only thing he enjoyed at these parties. As he was about to step through the door to the gardens he caught sight of a familiar face and frowned. Across the room, a young man with messy black hair and round-framed spectacles was surrounded by a crowd of laughing girls all waving their dance cards at him. What was Harry Potter doing here at Hogwarts and where was the ever-present Miss Patil? Shouldn't he be in hiding with the rest of the resistance members? Come to think of it, why was there a party at Hogwarts at all? There had been no reason to celebrate since Voldemort had come into power six months ago.
He strode across the room determined to speak to Harry but found the more he walked in that direction, the farther away Potter and his adoring bevy of fans seemed to get. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder in the direction he had come and was surprised to see St. Patrick's Isle and the brothel jutting up out of the shadows of the Forbidden Forest.
He was dreaming.
The realisation upset him and a string of earnest, yet clipped, staccato curses escaped his lips. He hated the surreal and uncontrollable nature of dreams. He despised how they tended to play on your weaknesses. Had he forgotten to take his Dreamless Sleep potion?
The ground beneath him changed from stone to grass, wet with dew, and he found himself walking towards the mocking cliffs of the island as the Forbidden Forest parted to either side of him and flocks of menacing looking birds took to wing in dark, meandering clouds from their roosts amid the branches. Soon he found himself standing on the sandy, grass-tufted dunes staring up at the manor on the island across the bay, his eyes fixed on the window where he supposed (hoped) Miss Granger lay sleeping. After a few minutes he turned, intent on making his way back through the dream world to Hogwarts, but the flicker of something just out of the corner of his eye made him turn back.
A boat was cutting its way across the bay towards him--a silent, cloaked figure standing unmoving in the prow. He fought the urge to bolt, suddenly paranoid about waiting for the boat to reach the shore in front of him. He closed his eyes and listened as the bottom of the boat scraped its way onto the beach and came to a stop.
"Thank you for waiting for me, Professor." His eyes snapped open at the comment and he found Hermione Granger standing in front of him, a smile pulling up one corner of her mouth as she dropped the hood of the cloak.
"What's so amusing, Miss Granger?" He had to ask--the look on her face invited the question.
"I never thought I'd ever say this but you look positively dashing, sir," her smile grew wider and even a little impish, "green suits you… you should wear it more often."
"Green?" He looked down at himself to see he was wearing a formal outfit of deep green velvet. The cut was perfect, rich yet simple. It was then he realised his hair wasn't in his face as it usually was. He reached up a hand to find it was tied back in a neat queue.
"Why am I dressed like this?" He wondered, surprised by her answer before realising he'd said it out loud.
"I'm not sure," she replied, "but I'm all dressed up too." She unfastened the cloak and studied the empire-waist gown she was wearing. A frown creased her brow.
"What?" Snape asked as they turned their backs to the shore and began to walk in the opposite direction.
"This dress is the one my mum liked at Madam Malkin's." Snape looked puzzled so she elaborated, "For the leaving ball… when I went home for Christmas Mum and I went shopping in Diagon Alley. We fought the whole day over what I should wear. This is the dress she thought looked best on me but I didn't like it at all and wanted a different one. I'm not too fond of the colour… she swept her hand down dismissively over the dusty pink material. "…Truth be known, it sets my teeth on edge. The one I liked was midnight blue, shot through with silver threads. Mum hated it, she thought it was too revealing."
"Ah," Snape commented, a little at a loss at what else to say.
"I suppose that spending the last six months in some of the most ridiculous and revealing costumes ever conceived by man has made me see the error of my ways." Hermione was smiling but it was bittersweet. "I'm sure Mum would be proud I chose her gown in the end, even if only in a dream."
"I think you look rather fetching, your favourite colour notwithstanding." Hermione arched a brow at his comment. Snape and flattery together? Unreal. Now she knew she really was dreaming.
"I must have been looking forward to the damn Leaving Ball more than I thought…"
"I think you might be right." Snape conceded as he took a closer look at their surroundings. They were crossing the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts now and looked up to see the 1994 World Cup final between Bulgaria and Ireland being played out above their heads. The last Quidditch World Cup series had been cancelled due to the war. He shook his head to clear the images of Leprechauns capering maniacally around the pitch and picked up the pace, but not before folding Hermione's hand into the crook of his arm. They were dreaming and he didn't want to get separated from her. Dreams were transient and scenes were apt to change with no notice at all.
Soon they were back in the Great Hall and Severus found his gaze drawn to the dais where the teacher's table usually sat. There, talking animatedly to the entertainers--The Weird Sisters, what a surprise!--was Albus Dumbledore. Snape stopped, smiling as the old man threw his head back and laughed heartily at something the tall witch in the middle had said.
"Are you okay, professor? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Yes I'm fine, Miss Granger." Snape confirmed as he let go of her hand, the hall was crowded and there were many eyes turned in their direction. "I was just overcome for a moment by the realisation of just how much I miss the interfering old goat. It's not the same talking to his portrait."
"His portrait?" Hermione had always suspected the worst, but this was confirmation.
"He was killed in the battle that enabled Voldemort to take control. His portrait hangs in my suite of rooms along with the portrait of Armando Dippett. Neither of them are recognised by the Dark Lord as past Headmasters of Hogwarts. I keep their portraits in my personal library because Lord Voldemort thinks I had them destroyed."
"Why would he have you destroy them?"
"First duty as the new and loyal headmaster, I suppose." he answered, surprising her.
"You're really Headmaster of Hogwarts?" she queried, knowing he had spoken the truth even before she asked. "You know, Draco tormented me with the news of Dumbledore's death but I was never sure if he was telling the truth or not… he's a twisted bastard and would tell a tale like that in a second if it got him what he wanted." She shook her head. "He likes to get me worked up, it turns him on… I guess I've been prisoner so long our side must have lost. I wouldn't still be there otherwise, right?" She looked to him for an answer. He nodded.
"Albus fell in the same battle where you were captured, actually. Once that happened it was only a matter of days before everything fell apart. With you and Albus gone, not to mention the overwhelming losses we suffered, Mr. Potter had a hard time holding it all together." Severus watched Hermione's face crumple as she digested the magnitude of what he had just confirmed. The Wizarding World as they had known it was no more. There were too many good people dead and gone and too much darkness falling over the land.
"If I could have everyone's attention…" Dumbledore had cast Sonorus and was addressing the crowd. The murmuring trailed off and everyone waited for him to continue. "I'm happy to see you all here on this wonderful occasion. Tomorrow you will all leave Hogwarts and will take your places as productive members of adult society. Always remember how proud we are of what you have accomplished." His remarks were greeted by enthusiastic applause. "Now," he continued, "if I could have the Head Boy and Head Girl take the floor with their partners, we can get this celebration truly under way." Hermione watched, a little panicked, as Blaise Zabini led Ginny Weasley onto the dance floor and turned to look expectantly in her direction. Snape nudged her out of her seeming stupor.
"Miss Granger, they're waiting."
"But I don't have a partner…" Hermione didn't like the way this was going. She had the feeling it was going to suddenly turn into one of those hated dreams where you ended up naked and a laughing stock in the centre of a crowd. And this time the crowd wouldn't be faceless, either.
Snape didn't know why--maybe it was the wistful tone of her voice?--but he held out his hand to her, "Then allow me the pleasure." He was rewarded with a blush.
"But everyone will talk."
"Let them. This is a dream, remember."
"Well, when you put it that way, how can a girl resist." She accepted his hand and let him lead her to the centre of the floor to stand next to Blaise and Ginny. Ginny cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her and Hermione answered it with a Mona Lisa smile as the music began.
As they waltzed, Hermione listened to the comments chasing their way around the Great Hall.
"Is that Snape?"
"What the hell is she doing with him?"
"Is she nuts?"
"What's Snape doing with that Mudblood?" Hermione flinched at Pansy Parkinson's comment and Snape waltzed her to the opposite side of the floor from the belligerent cluster of Slytherin students without missing a beat. Hermione was pleasantly surprised by his skill and ease.
"Now you've got me wondering if you can dance this well in real life."
"It's a skill I possess but rarely use and I'd appreciate you not divulging the fact to anyone else."
She grinned wickedly at him. "Your secret is safe with me." There was a glint in her eyes that promised otherwise, but he didn't dispute her answer. "Who'd believe me anyway when you always just stalk around looking like you've got a pole stuck up your arse." She realised that her mouth had run away with itself and clapped the hand that had been resting on his shoulder over it, her cheeks colouring. Her heart sank as she braced herself for a dressing-down.
She was surprised when he burst out laughing. It was a deep, rich sound and heads all around the Great Hall turned and zeroed in on the source. Students all around stood staring, their mouths wide open at the sight of Professor Snape enjoying a belly laugh as he danced with the Head Girl. The world must have come to an end. Hell must have frozen over. There could be no other explanation for his behaviour. The crowd goggled even more when the song ended and Snape bent down to plant a kiss on the back of Hermione's hand.
"Now that we've given them something out of the ordinary to talk about, can we leave?" He pleaded softly as he straightened up.
"Let's, please," she replied. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd and off the dance floor, ignoring the crush of stunned students moving aside to let them through.
"So, do you think we'll both remember this when I wake up?" Hermione asked as they stepped out into the manicured lawns that led down to the lake.
"We remembered the last time, didn't we? Chances are we'll remember this. Is there anything you want to tell me, Miss Granger?" Severus had seen the shadows flit behind her eyes. She was worried about something - he ventured it was probably Miss Brown from the memory of her emotions earlier. She was silent for a moment.
"It's Lavender--she's not in good shape. I mean, Voldemort repaired the awful physical damage he inflicted on her, but she's hollow and brittle. I don't know if she'll be able to take another visit from him. She told me she wishes he'd killed her tonight because she can't stand the thought of him touching her again and I really think she'll shatter if he does."
"It was that bad?" he asked, chuckling mirthlessly when she looked up at him, stricken. "What am I saying? Look who we're talking about here, Severus, of course it was bad!" he chastised himself aloud and Hermione's eyes widened.
"It's okay, I know what you meant," she laid a hand on his forearm, "I just wish there was something I could tell her to make us both feel better. I'm so scared for her and I feel like I'm being selfish because I'm thinking of what it will be like for me when she's not there any more."
"You're not being selfish, Hermione, your reaction is very human. It's our nature to think how events around us will effect us." He laid one of his hands over the one she had placed on his forearm. He wasn't very good at issuing reassurances, especially not in a situation like this but he hoped by using her given name instead of calling her Miss Granger she understood he was trying to comfort her. He watched her blink back tears from the corners of her eyes and gave her a much needed moment to compose herself. "When is he coming back next?" There was no need to elaborate on who the 'he' in question was.
"Probably the night after tomorrow at about 9:00 and I feel so bloody hopeless."
"Well, I think it's tomorrow already, so we've got about 40 hours."
"We?!?" Hermione looked up at him again, puzzled by his comment.
"Let's just say a few mutual acquaintances and I are working on something. I don't want to get your hopes up, but we'll see what we can do and I'm going to try and come see you again before the Dark Lord's next visit."
Hermione's countenance brightened at his words and somehow it felt as if he'd just lifted a huge weight off her shoulders. She opened her mouth to thank him but was wrenched from their strange dream bond before she had a chance to say anything.
***
Severus was startled awake by the suddenness of her disappearance and the rapidly dissolving landscape of the dream. He lay for a moment with his eyes closed, feeling the pulse hammer quickly in the base of his throat. Then he realised his cheek was resting on a damp, balled up cloak and he wasn't in his bed, in fact, he could feel water lapping under the boards he was lying on. He opened his eyes to find Padma Patil kneeling over him, a concerned look on her face and worried crease on her brow. She looked even more perplexed when the corners of his mouth curled up into what could only be called a grin.
"I suppose it's safe to venture I put on quite a show for you, Miss Patil?" She smiled at his comment and relief replaced worry.
"You could say that," she replied. "You conked out not long after I started into our last shift of the night. Harry couldn't wake you so he made you as comfortable as he could. Then after a while you began to talk in your sleep… well, swear actually and quite creatively too." He groaned.
"Wonderful! Just bloody wonderful!" he muttered as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Miss Granger and tried to imagine what it had sounded like for them to hear just one side of it. He turned his head to look for Harry and found him standing at the prow of the boat in just a black jumper and jeans, the chill wind lifting tendrils of his messy hair and whipping them into his face. Snape reached for the cloak that he'd been using for a pillow, shaking it out and offering it back to the dark-haired young man who had been scanning the night sky, looking for something.
"Thank you for the use of your cloak, Mr. Potter."
"You're welcome," Harry replied as he bent over, took the proffered garment and shrugged into it. Padma smiled as it struck her that they were capable of having a normal conversation, after all. She looked up as he spoke again.
"They're coming." he told them, gesturing to the still-dark western skyline. Padma and Snape turned to watch three fast approaching dots on the horizon. The next shift was on their way. Thank Merlin for small mercies, as it had been a very long night. Harry put a hand out to Snape who was getting up off the floor of their small boat, the Mananan MacLir. It had been a little joke on Bill's behalf--he was hoping to bring luck to their venture by using a boat named after the ancient Celtic God of the Sea who, according to legend, had lived on the isle named for him. Snape didn't feel lucky at all. He felt old and stiff and tired beyond measure. He took Harry's hand with nary a snide comment and allowed himself to be helped up.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter." he managed, right before three wizards on brooms came to hover over them before landing carefully, one-at-a-time, in the back of the boat.
"How's it going?" Bill asked as he came to stand next to Padma in the prow.
"Have a look for yourself, you're the best judge when it comes to these things," she told him, watching expectantly as he cast Patefacio on himself.
"We've made a lot more progress than I thought we would by now!" he exclaimed and let out a low whistle of appreciation as he studied the partially unravelled network of wards, delighted at how far their work had come in a mere twenty-four hours.
"How far do you think we can get in the next 36 hours or so?" Snape queried. Bill looked at him.
"Did something happen?"
"Another trance," Harry supplied.
"Bloody Hell!" This time it was Ron who spoke, the look on his face speaking volumes. "More bad news, I take it?" Snape nodded.
"Hermione is very worried about Miss Brown." Padma noticed the headmaster had called Hermione by her given name, something he'd never done before. She glanced over at Harry and the speculative look on his face told her he'd noticed it too. "She's not holding up well from being the object of Voldemort's attention and Hermione thinks Miss Brown might break the next time she is summoned." There, he'd called her Hermione twice in the span of a minute. They hadn't imagined it.
"That'll happen in 36 hours?" Blaise joined the conversation, taking up for Ron, who was looking like he might collapse.
"A little over 39 hours now," Harry answered Blaise. Snape raised a questioning brow at him and Harry continued, "well, we could hear what you were saying, even if we hadn't a clue what it was all about. You weren't exactly whispering, you know."
"Mr. Potter is correct, " Snape told them, "I intended to give us a few extra hours to play with."
"I don't know if we'll be able to have them all down in 36 hours." Bill studied the remaining wards. "Is there any way we can buy ourselves some more time?" he asked, tightly gripping the rail of the boat as his mind worked overtime on their latest problem.
"Can we do something to stop the next visit, or at least put it back a bit?" Blaise directed the question to his old Head of House. Snape's eyes lit up at the question.
"That's it! We're going to need a diversion. Something big enough to distract him so much he can't make the scheduled appointment."
"The Gunpowder Plot!" Harry smiled as he spoke.
"What does that mean?" Ron asked, used to hearing his friends talk about things he hadn't a clue about over the years.
"We're going to blow up the Houses of Parliament."
"We're what?" Four voices chorused. Snape was sitting silently, watching Harry with look of approval on his usually dour face.
"Figuratively. The Gunpowder Plot was an unsuccessful attempt to blow up the Muggle government a few hundred years back. It was engineered by a group of rebels led by a man named Guy Fawkes. We're going to take a leaf out of their book and hit the Ministry of Magic, but they're not going to know it's just a bluff this time. As far as they'll know, it's a coup attempt. In and out as fast as we can, get them focussing their attention on the attack and London. I can't see old Voldy keeping his appointment with Lavender when he's got something like that to worry about. How long would it take for Charlie and his lot to get here?"
"They could be here in 24 hours, I'm sure," Bill answered, understanding what Harry had in mind.
"Dragons, Harry?" a now-recovered Ron asked as it dawned on him what calling Charlie in meant.
"They're fast and magic resistant and they pack quite the punch. We're just going to stir things up. We'll hit them where they're comfortable and give them something to keep them on their toes and hurt their pride. Charlie and his friends can hightail it back into hiding immediately while we lay a few false trails for them to follow. What do you think?"
"I think it might just do the trick. Just make sure there are no trails that lead anywhere close to here." Bill smiled as he envisioned the havoc they'd wreak. "We can't work any faster than we're already doing on the wards. In 36 hours we'll almost be there but probably only starting the stage where we'll have to work underwater. If this attack gains us even 24 hours, that should be enough."
"Alright then, we'll key back to The Hall to get the ball rolling while you lot get cracking here."
"Sounds like a plan!" Bill answered, his wand out and already working at unravelling the next ward around the brothel.
***
Draco climbed out of the clearing fog in his brain. His head was pounding, he was aching all over and he was afraid to open his eyes. What had happened? he wondered for a moment before it all came flooding back with such bright and painful clarity that his stomach dropped out from under him and his head spun. He fought the nausea and struggled to sit up, realising after a moment that it was impossible because he was restrained. He tested the bonds and sank back into the pillow as he found he was held tight.
"Fuck!" he swore silently as he realised someone could be in the room with him. He stilled. He listened. Nothing.
He cracked open an eyelid, peering warily out the slit. Still nothing but the flicker of shadows and light on the wall beyond. The room was candlelit, albeit dimly. If there was someone in the room with him they already knew he was awake thanks to his struggle with his bonds so he opened the other eye and turned his head slowly towards the light.
A curly-haired girl in worn, brown robes sat silently in the chair next to the bed, her head bowed so her features were hidden from his view.
Hermione! Her name sprung into his mind unbidden. Why was she sitting there looking so forlorn? What was the matter? She wasn't hurt, was she? Now where did that thought come from? When had he ever cared if she'd been knocked around before? Wasn't that a favourite thing of his own to do with her?
The sound of a door opening got his full attention and he looked over to see the back of a house-elf disappearing from the room as the door swung closed behind it. As the slam echoed hollowly, a harbinger of doom, the girl raised her head to look at him. There was something different about her. She seemed more defiant than usual and she met his gaze.
"That foul creature has gone to fetch your father," she informed him. He knew right away which rotten piece of work it had been as there was only one house elf around this place that fit the description. Even Draco (a right piece of work himself) felt soiled when he was around Nasty.
"What did you do?" Hermione hissed the question at him, lips barely moving--fully aware that someone could be eavesdropping. "I've never seen your father as angry as this," her gaze bored into him. Any other time he'd have smacked her for that but he didn't have the energy to any more, not to mention the fact he was still tied to the bed.
"Untie me," he directed.
"I can't," she answered, a conflicted look on her face.
"Why not?" He felt his blood pressure rise at her defiance.
"Your father told me I wasn't to do anything you asked me to and he's stronger than you are." She was referring to the double Imperius they'd laid on her--Draco might have reined her in first, but his father's curse was more powerful than his own, a fact that grated on him.
"Fair enough," he quipped, pretending to be nonchalant about the whole thing.
She was still staring suspiciously at him from under the curtain of sleep-tangled curls that hid her face when the door slammed open, its handle gouging into the wall and sticking there as Lucius Malfoy strode in to stare thunderously at his offspring. An unsettling, fawning creature trailed in to the room behind him and shielded itself from their scrutiny behind his heavy velvet cloak.
"I hope you are happy, son!" Lucius began, "You've exposed us to ridicule with your actions, do you realise that?" He paced back and forth for a minute before his gaze lit upon Hermione, who was trying to avoid his notice and make herself as small as possible in the chair she was sitting in. "And for what?!?" He strode across the scant few feet that separated him from the girl, threaded his hands through her knotted curls and dragged her to her feet. "For this!!!" he barked as he shoved her face down towards his son's, stopping just short of cracking their skulls together.
Draco met Hermione's gaze and read the accusation there. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault.
She was right… it was all his fault. If he hadn't taken her from the battlefield, none of this would ever have happened. He didn't answer his father, knowing it would infuriate him more than anything and slowly turned his head to concentrate on the shadows playing on the wall behind him.
"I think it's high past time I taught you a lesson, son." He heard his father mutter before hearing Hermione gasp in pain as she was thrown roughly against the wall next to the chair. He could see their shadows interacting and closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch it play out like some perverse shadow-puppet show.
Lucius actually had Hermione pinned to the wall, knee between her legs and forearm across her neck and shoulders to keep her still. His mouth was on her ear and he was whispering insidious commands to her. Hermione had her eyes closed in a vain attempt to stop any tears from betraying her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lucius stepped away from her and let her slide down the wall to sit in a graceless heap. The elder Malfoy then turned his attention to the younger Malfoy.
"Your mother and I have been far too indulgent with you recently and it shows." He grabbed Draco by the chin and forcefully turned his face so their eyes met. Draco gazed hatefully at his father through slitted eyes.
"Is that what you call it?" he spat out.
"That's exactly what I'd call it. You are spoiled, Draco, and that will not do. Lord Voldemort despises weakness, and you have one that cannot be tolerated," Lucius swept his hand back to indicate Hermione, "but we're going to fix that aren't we, Mudblood?" Hermione looked up as he addressed her and nodded weakly, watching powerlessly as he removed his wand from its ornate holster on his belt and pointed it at his son.
"Imperio."
***
A/N - Well, it's been a while since I've updated, and I'm sorry about that (home renovations are evil). I hope it was worth the wait and I want to say thanks to everyone who nudged me to get on with it and write this chapter. Your reviews and support mean a lot to me.
There are 3 pictures I want to share with you this time out. Two are drawn by me and the other by my good friend, Sidsel. You can find them at my group Den of Divinity--you'll find the link in my author profile.
Sidsel's picture is a parody of ANTR and can be found in the Harry Potter Artwork folder in the files section. It's called Gift Art and shows me as the director in between scenes with the players.
My pieces are a portrait of Lavender and a scene from the dream sequence called Minuet and can be found in the photos folder called Art from A Night To Remember