It is an odd quirk of human psychology that one can be intensely aware that something will happen, and yet still be surprised when it does. Severus had known for two weeks that as the moon waned, the day of his namesake massacre was drawing closer, and yet, as the sudden burning on his arm announced the summons, it took him by surprise. He'd been prepared, sitting in the Forbidden Forest, away from prying eyes and away from the wards of Hogwarts, so as soon as the mark burned, he was able to stand, don his mask and Disapparate, reappearing at the Dark Lord's side within seconds. Despite his speedy journey, he was not the first to arrive, and, as he fell to the ground in line behind a half-dozen others, he thought that even the Dark Lord could not be displeased by the speed with which his Death Eaters responded this time. Crawling forward on his belly, Severus took the hem of the Dark Lord's cloak and raised it to his lips, then fell away, straightening slowly, almost hesitant to look around. His only hope was that wherever they were, it would be somewhere on the map. Somewhere where the Order would be able to find them. To stop them.

It was as though he'd been punched in the stomach, and for a moment, Severus thought he would be sick. It was impossible not to recognize the location, and it was, of course, on the map. Fat lot of good that it was going to do, since the ones holding the map were in the same location, if they were where they were supposed to be. For once, Severus hoped that they hadn't followed instructions. He kept his eyes on the ground as he took his place in the circle, not daring to look up for fear of what he would see. When he did finally straighten, his fears were confirmed.

In the midst of Stonehenge, huddled in a small cluster, sat the very children whom he had spent the last two weeks insisting were too young to be a part of such dangerous games. He was grateful for the mask, as it allowed him a shelter behind which to stare, aghast and agape, at the six figures. Fred and George, and from this distance, Severus could not tell them apart, had identical looks of terror on their faces, as though they had realized for the first time that this was no prank, and the consequences would be far worse than the threat of expulsion. Harry was staring at him, directly at him, defiant and scornful, his face etched with pure hatred, his eyes darkened with the pain of betrayal. Hermione was crying, but she held her head high, her eyes open, and even from this distance, Severus could almost sense her capable mind working at full tilt, not yet having given up on the possibility of thinking their way out of there. Ron's face was twisted in bitterness, but behind the bitterness, he too seemed to share the sense of betrayal that darkened Harry's eyes. Betrayed by a man they had never trusted, but had finally accepted was helping them, only to prove to be a traitor. It was like a dagger in Severus' heart, and he wished he could turn away from them. He could not, though. he could not be less courageous than they were. His eyes drifted to Ginny, and, surreptitiously, he fingered his pocket. It had been her idea, after all, though it was only now that he realized what a fool he'd been. He wasn't prepared to be facing children.

Keeping his eyes on the gathering of his students, Severus made a silent vow to Harry. You will live, he promised. And I will do whatever is required to see to it.

"My loyal Death Eaters!" Hastily, Snape closed away the memories that would give lie to his intentions tonight, and he turned his head to the Dark Lord, but kept his eyes on the six students. "This night, as promised under the full moon, we feast. Behold, the first of our prey!" With a laugh like the squeal of a slaughtered pig, he bent, placing long fingers under Hermione's chin, lifting her face. "Such beauty," he said softly, "such innocence. Such a pity it is wasted on a filthy little Mudblood."

The hand suddenly let go of Hermione's chin, and he backhanded her harshly, sending her reeling. Snape closed his eyes momentarily, then forced them open again, focusing his sight on the trickle of blood from the girl's mouth. Whatever is required.

"Snape! Come forward! Begin the merriment, for this is a feast in your honor."

Swallowing hard, Snape stepped forward, and the Dark Lord clutched Hermione's arm, hauling her roughly to her feet. "This one is a gift for you, for you alone to do with as you see fit." Voldemort hissed, shoving the girl forward.

Snape kept his eyes on Hermione's face, letting the tears she was crying draw his heart into a vice. Hold onto the pain; it is what keeps you human. "My Lord is generous," he murmured.

"Consider her a reward, for drawing them here. I had hoped to have members of that ridiculous Order, but this... this was beyond even my wildest expectations." Snape did not have to see the Dark Lord to know he was looking hungrily at Harry, ensnared by the prospect of seeing the boy's death at last.

"It is my pleasure to serve, my Lord," Severus murmured, his words ringing hollowly in his ears.

"Take her, then, for this is a feast in your honor. It is for you to set the pace for the rest. Do not kill the Potter boy, but beyond that..." The serpent-voiced fiend shoved Hermione forward, and Snape caught her, steadying her clandestinely.

There was a light in Hermione's eyes that Snape could only define as one thing-- trust. Despite all that had happened, she trusted him still, and expected him to set things right. It was heart-wrenching and heart breaking as he reached for her arm and looked at her. He didn't dare apologize, even silently, for what he was about to do. "Come here, you filthy little Mudblood whore," he hissed, and the look she shot him was pure venom, and, almost as though he'd planned it with her, she screeched and lifted a hand, swinging it at his face. Forcing a soft laugh, he caught her wrist and forced it behind her back. "Now, now," he murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "none of that. Perhaps you do need a lesson, and I suppose I could lower myself to give it to you." As he spoke, he pressed a tiny vial into her palm, and felt her fingers curl around it before he moved his hand to grasp roughly at her face, grimacing as her tender flesh crushed beneath his fingers. That would leave a bruise, he knew, but a bruise would heal. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her forcefully, then lifted his arms so that his cloak shielded them, moving his lips aside. "If you care for your life," he whispered, "and those of your friends, then do as I say. The vial in your hand is an antidote. Wait as long as you can, but you must administer it before Venus rises above the stone that tops the farthest pillars. Venus is the brightest star, the brightest light in the sky. Three drops, Miss Granger. There is enough for three people." He lowered his hands and stepped back from her, then flung her to the ground, his eyes darting to her clenched hands to make sure that she still held the vial, then raised his voice. "Filthy though she may be, there might be use in her. I would encourage you all to save your appetites." There was a leer from the assembly, and Severus looked at the other children.

Snape walked in a slow circle around the remaining students. Ron's and Harry's utter hatred had increased exponentially, and Ginny was crying too now. He paused in front of Fred and George. "You two," he hissed, pointing at them, "Stand. I will enjoy exacting revenge for the havoc you have caused in the halls." He reached forward and grabbed George's arm roughly, pulling him towards him. "Do you have the map?" Severus whispered in his ear, and, wide-eyed, George nodded. "Hold onto it," Severus murmured, "and do not let anyone else see it. And keep your mouth open. You bite what I put in your mouth, is that clear? Bite hard and then swallow." His hand snaked under his robe again, and he slammed a hand against George's face, depositing a small, spherical vial in the twin's mouth. George looked for a moment like he was going to be sick, but he bit down on the vial, as instructed, and Severus whispered, "I'm sorry," just before snaking a knife from beneath his robes and slicing across the red-head's jaw with it, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound. Steeling himself, Severus leaned forward and drew his tongue along that gash, then laughed an almost genuine maniacal laugh. He was losing his sanity in his effort to continue the charade, and it was only his sanity that would save them.

"Blood traitor!" he hissed, shoving him roughly aside. "You two share everything, don't you? Come here, Fred, and take your share of the fun." He reached for the other twin, and wrenched his head back, dropping a second sphere into his mouth with deft fingers. "Bite it," he hissed, then slashed at the boy's jaw. After a moment, Snape flung the two boys to the ground at the Dark Lord's feet, and knelt between them. "A gift, to the Dark Lord!"

Voldemort moved forward in an unsettling swirl of cloak and robes, then smiled. "Very good, Snape," he hissed, a whisper for Snape's ears alone. "But cease with the theatrics. There are four more tender sweetlings there for us to savor, but not until you have had the first sampling." He reached for Fred's hand and jerked him upward, then gestured to Snape for the knife. With a lump in his throat, he obliged.

"Behold," the Dark Lord raised his voice to be heard by all, "the fruit of Albus Dumbledore's stupidity!" Raising the boy's hand into the air, Voldemort flourished the knife. "We all but drew him a picture telling him where we would be, and when, and he so obligingly left us a splendid apéritif to begin our evening's festivities."

There was a murmur of laughter around the circle, and Fred was beginning to waver. Don't you dare pass out yet, Snape thought wildly. We aren't through with you!

Gathering Fred's raised hand into the same hand as the knife, Voldemort removed his wand from his robes and conjured a goblet seemingly made from smoke, then replaced his wand and took the knife. "It is seldom we taste pure blood here," he whispered dangerously, "and a pity it has to be blood soiled by the corruption of a disgraceful family. I think, though, that we will manage." With a serpentine movement, the Dark Lord slashed at Fred's wrist, then placed his goblet under the rush of blood that erupted from the wound.

Voldemort raised his goblet. "I give these two as a gift to my loyal Death Eaters! Come, my children, and feast," he invited the rest of them, stepping aside so that everyone would be able to gather. As the others stepped forward, more goblets conjured, Severus counted the heads wildly, and looked at the two boys. They would never survive so many.

"Do not gorge yourselves," he sneered at them, putting all his scorn into the expression. "There are four more, and it would be... fitting if everyone could enjoy them all."

Voldemort laughed. "Of course, my son, that is solid advice. I have been concerned about you for some time; it is good to see you have returned to yourself. Go, now, and prepare the others."

Snape bowed as the Dark Lord offered the knife back to him, and he walked steadily to where the others were crouched. He reached down and hauled Ron to his feet. "You pitiful little fool," he crooned. "For every time you talked back to me," he said, his right hand under his cloak, trying desperately to break—but not shatter—the spherical vial like the other two, "for all the times you disrupted my class," he sighed inwardly with relief as he felt the container crack open. Careful not to spill any of its contents, he caught Ron under the chin and pressed the poison into his mouth with his thumb, then forced the youngest Weasley son's head back, leaving him little choice but to swallow. "For every time you forced me to suffer your presence," he held the boy's head firmly as he lifted his knife, not trusting him to not move suddenly and slice his own jugular on the sharp blade. In a swift motion, Snape had opened a wound on his jaw, as he had the others, and then leaned forward to touch his tongue to the acrid blood. "I think I will enjoy seeing how defiant you are at the hands of your enemies." Slowly, Severus circled him, like a vulture, and his lips curled into a sneer behind his mask. Behind the mask. You're losing yourself, Severus, they cannot see you expressions. Do not give in. "Nothing to say?" he asked, and to his detached horror, he knew that the words were not scripted to carry his lie. He was taunting his student. He was enjoying the elation of being in control of the uncontrollable teenager for once. But that doesn't mean you wish him to die. "Where is that famed Gryffindor courage now, Mr. Weasley? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Ron's eyes were beginning to glaze slightly, signaling that the poison was working. A glance over his shoulder told Snape that it was working on many levels; there was more than one Death Eater who seemed to be experiencing difficulty standing upright. "You are pathetic, Weasley," he muttered, and slashed the knife across Ron's wrist. "Go, join your brothers," he hissed, shoving Ron harshly towards the group.

One of the others caught him, and Snape looked at the moon. Venus was no longer visible under the stone atop the farthest pillars, which meant time was fading quickly. Someone was wavering wildly, and Snape cast a look at Ginny and Harry, then another long look at Hermione. Just please do what I told you, Miss Granger, he begged silently, then reached behind Harry's back, loosening the ropes that held him. "Do not move, Mr. Potter," he whispered urgently. "Do not let on that you are free until the last possible minute. And free Miss Granger first. Don't ask questions, and don't doubt me."

With that final instruction, Snape slipped his hand under his robe once more and took out two final vials. One he pressed into his mouth and crushed, and then quickly swallowed the other one. He turned quickly from Harry, and saw three Death Eaters on their knees, unable to stand but trying desperately to do just that. Two more were already sprawled on the ground. More looked ill. There was a slow panic rising, but Snape was only vaguely aware of it before he suddenly lurched forward, barely even raising his hands to break his fall.

hr

"You know, I think this is a scrub." Tonks stood from where she'd been crouched for the last three hours, stretching her arms above her brilliantly blue head. She rolled her head to one side, then the other, and then peered down at Bill, who was also straightening.

"I think you're right," he replied with a yawn, peering up at the clock towering above them. They'd been positioned in the heart of London, which was hardly the most likely of places for an attack, but was necessary to guard, and he couldn't imagine that they hadn't been given that assignment because they were the two youngest and least experienced. At least, aside from the six kids who were probably trading cards at Stonehenge. "I think we've been had."

Tonks scrubbed a hand over her face and clasped her hands behind her back, bending forward, stretching her arms behind her. "Think I'll pop off to Bath and see if Shacklebolt thinks its time to give it up too. I have a feeling we're going to need everyone on our side to convince Dumbledore."

Bill nodded and bent to pick up his jacket. "I'll go see if I can round up Mum and Dad. You want to get the others from the Ministry and I'll..."

He was interrupted by a sudden roar, followed by something tumbling to the ground between them, and both Bill and Tonks had to jump back to avoid being struck by a Firebolt with a small, red-haired girl clinging to it.

"Ginny Weasley!" Bill hissed in a fair imitation of Molly when she was angry with her offspring. "What the hell do you think you're doing riding a broom into the middle of..." he stopped short, staring at her. She was trembling, and her face was pale, streaked with filth and tears, and for a minute his heart stopped. "What's wrong?"

She flung herself against him, sobbing and he looked wide-eyed at Tonks, hoping the other woman would be able to translate some of the incoherent words that were being muffled against his chest. Tonks was as wide-eyed as he was, though, and she mouthed "Bath" just before Disapparating.

Bill pushed Ginny away from him. "Ginny!" he shook her gently, "What's wrong?"

"I think they're all dead!" she sobbed again. "Stonehenge... Harry..." she fell against his chest again, and a popping announced the arrival of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and Bill shook his head.

"I don't know, but can you go to Stonehenge? Just check on the others? Come back if they're all right, otherwise I'm sending everyone else..."

"Right." Another pop and Shacklebolt was gone.

"Ginny, I need you to tell me what happened. Come on, now, deep breath." He took a deep breath with her, and she sobbed as she exhaled, which was almost enough to make him sob as well, out of fear and frustration. "Where are the others?" he asked urgently. Another pop, and this time it was Hestia Jones and Emaline Vance.

"Stonehenge," he told them, shaking Ginny again. "I don't know what's happened." The two witches exchanged glances and another pair of pops announced their departure, just as four more pops brought Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, Moody and Lupin.

"What's going on?" McGonagall asked. "Tonks said to come here immediately. Ginny, is that you?"

"Bill?" Moody looked at Bill who was looking rather helplessly at Ginny, who had started sobbing uncontrollably again.

"I don't know what happened," he said for the third time, "Ginny just arrived, crying, and Tonks went to start gathering people. I think something happened at Stonehenge, but I don't know what, and Shacklebolt went first, and I told him to come right back if everything was all right and that was three minutes ago and..."

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Moody all disappeared, and Lupin stepped forward, taking Ginny by the shoulders. "Ginny!" he shook her gently. "You have to tell us what happened!"

She nodded tearfully and opened her mouth, but it was mostly sobs that came out. Sobs punctuated with names. Fred and George and Ron and Harry and Hermione and Snape and Voldemort... that was enough for Bill, and apparently for Lupin as well. "Send everyone on," he said, "except your mum. Have her stay here, with Ginny."

Bill nodded as Lupin Disapparated as well. Having mum there with Ginny was probably a good idea; it would contain the hysteria to somewhere out of the way. Three more pops, and three more wizards. "Stonehenge," Bill said simply, and Fletcher, Doge and Diggle were already Disapparating, wands at the ready.

Finally, the pops announced Tonks and his parents, and Bill barely waited for his mother to register that Ginny was there when Bill shoved Ginny forward. "Stay with Ginny, mum!" he said, then looked at Arthur. "Stonehenge. Something is dead wrong." The three of the Disapparated.

Apparating into the midst of Stonehenge was like stepping into a nightmare. Bill had his wand drawn, but nothing could have prepared him for the blood that already soaked the ground, and he felt his stomach lurch.

"Arthur! Over here, quickly!" Bill spun in the direction of Moody's voice, and he felt himself turn green at what he saw. Ron, Fred and George lay limply in the midst of a pile of black cloaked figures, blood dried over their faces and arms. Hermione was speaking animatedly with Dumbledore, pointing one place, then another. Lupin had his arm around Harry, and was guiding him away from the scene, which, by all appearances, had indeed been a massacre.

His stomach lurched again, but it was enough to startle him from his stupor and he darted forward, joining his father at the boys' sides. "What happened?" he demanded. "Are they...?"

"They are not dead," Dumbledore said softly, appearing very suddenly. "Merely weak from loss of blood and the effects of an unknown potion. Miss Granger, it seems, had an antidote for them."

"Wha—?"

"Professor Snape! Where is he?"

"Miss Granger! Go over there with Harry and sit down. You've done enough for one night. Go!" McGonagall had arrived and, despite being disheveled and smeared with blood, she looked as severe as she ever did in a classroom, and her tone brooked no argument.

"What happened?" Bill repeated, urgently, touching Ron's forehead and grimacing. He was cold and clammy.

"We need to get the children out of here so we can call in the Aurors. The rest of these Dark Wizards are going to be in Ministry holding cells by midnight if I have any say in it," Shacklebolt was walking briskly forward. "They're all unconscious, but still alive, though I don't know for how long. That bottle Miss Granger had, Dumbledore, we'll need to analyze the contents. Live Death Eaters are more useful to us than dead ones, so hopefully we can..."

"WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" Bill yelled, interrupting the Auror.

"Hush, Bill."

That was the last straw. McGonagall no doubt meant well, placing that calming hand on his shoulder, but he didn't want to hush and he didn't want to be calmed and he didn't want to be told to go sit aside and babysit. He stood, taking his wand from his pocket and pointing it at her. "I want to know what the hell is going on," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Put away your wand, Bill. Professor McGonagall is on your side." It was Dumbledore who was speaking. "Put it away, and I will tell you everything."

"Bill," came a soft, pained voice beside him, and Bill half-turned, facing the pained eyes of his father. "Please, it's already bad enough. The last thing I want to do now is explain to your mum that you're in a cell for threatening Professor McGonagall."

He knew his father was right, and slowly lowered the wand, putting it back in his pocket.

"It would appear that the meeting tonight was here, and we walked into a trap. No, worse than that, we placed the children in the middle of a trap," Dumbledore said softly. "And, from what I can piece together from Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, I would say that Professor Snape poisoned your brothers so that when the Death Eaters drank their blood, it would stun them..."

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! I'LL KILL HIM!"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, sounding tired suddenly. "He's already dead."

Bill stopped suddenly and looked at her, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What?"

"Apparently, Severus left a bottle of antidote with Miss Granger," Dumbledore explained, "and loosened the ropes that were binding Mr. Potter. He bought them time, I suppose. Miss Granger sent Ginny to find you, because you were the only one she knew how to tell her to get to."

"Fred and George and Ron..."

"Will be fine," Dumbledore said firmly. "They have lost a great deal of blood, and are weak from the potions, but they will be fine."

The blood, the night, the news of what had happened... Bill finally fell to the ground and emptied his stomach on the grass until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Bill, think you can help us get the kids back to Headquarters?"

He looked up into Tonks' eyes, an unnatural shade of violet, but filled with sympathy just the same. He nodded silently, and she handed him a broom. "Think you can manage Ron? I don't think I can, and I'm not sure Lupin can. Yes?" He was nodding at her suggestion. "Okay then, I'll take Fred and Lupin can take George, and Harry and Hermione can follow. Arthur, will you get Molly and Ginny? They'll want to know what's happened."

Arthur nodded mutely, and his eyes were shining behind a sheen of tears. Bill couldn't remember ever seeing his dad cry, and reached for his hand. Arthur squeezed his hand gently. "I'll see you at Headquarters," he said. "I'll probably ride back with Ginny and let your mum Apparate so she can get a head start on the worrying."

Bill smiled weakly. "I'll see you in a little bit," he assured his dad, then gathered Ron into his arms and held his youngest brother against his chest as he began to mount the broom. Arthur Disapparated with a pop, and Bill watched as Tonks and Hermione mounted one broom with Fred sandwiched between them, then Lupin and Harry the other, George between them. It would be slow travelling with everyone two and three to a broom, but there was no other way to get everyone back to Headquarters. Besides, he doubted that either Harry or Hermione needed to be flying, as distraught as they seemed to be.

"It's going to be a slow journey," Lupin said, stating the obvious. "But take your time and..."

"None of that will be necessary," Albus said softly. "Minerva, bring Severus over here. Harry, Hermione, I assume you are familiar with the use of a portkey? Bill, Tonks, Lupin, will you three please see to it that the boys are brought along?" Everyone gathered around the portkey—a battered-looking hat that was redolent of the ones the young witches and wizards wore—and settled themselves. Tonks held Fred in her arms, holding his hand on the portkey, Lupin similarly engaged with George, and Bill holding Ron. Albus cradled Severus in his arms as tenderly as though the Death Eater was a child, and for a moment, Bill felt a pang of sympathy for the headmaster who had always seemed overly fond of Snape.

The world lurched and after a moment, the ten of them emerged in the an empty upstairs bedroom at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.