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WARNINGS: HBP Spoilers, character death(s)

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Chapter Six

Draco had made his decision, and Severus Snape was going to do everything in his power to help the boy find safety. Snape was glad that Draco had made the right decision--he didn't know what he would have done with him if he had decided to continue serving the Dark Lord, for Draco knew who Snape really supported.

However, now that Malfoy had made his decision, Snape knew that there was more pressure on him to find a way to get the Order to accept him--and he knew this would be difficult. After all, hadn't he been the one to kill Dumbledore? How on earth would he convince them that he was not really on the Dark Lord's side? It hadn't mattered so much before if he could get them to trust him again, but now that Draco was changing sides...

The Order weren't going to believe he was still on their side. Would they ... ? And yet, Severus couldn't hang around in his house on Spinner's End waiting for someone to come and kill him, not now that he had someone to look after and protect. He would have to find some way to persuade the Order, he'd just have to try--although he was doubtful as to whether they would be convinced.

Being a Slytherin, Snape wondered who owed him a favour--he could call in the favour now, he thought to himself. Even if they didn't believe him ... they owed him, so he'd just ask them not to inform the Order of their conversation. But who ... he knew there was someone who owed him ...

Snape put his cloak on as he paced up and down in his dark living room, preparing himself to Apparate once he'd come up with a plan. He had to act now, he had to, not only for his sake, but for Draco's ...

And he remembered a certain werewolf who needed Wolfsbane Potion every month a few years ago, and for the first time in several months, Severus Snape's mouth twitched at the corners into a slight smile, before he Apparated to where he knew he could find who he hoped to be his Savior.


Not at all willing to return to The Burrow after the failure of his first attempt to find a Horcrux, Harry had insisted that he, Ron and Hermione to stay at Grimmauld Place until they figured out what they would do next. This was how Harry found himself staring up at the dusty ceiling of his room in what used to be Sirius' house. Ron was asleep next door, and Harry could hear his snuffling snore through the thin wall that divided them.

He knew that he ought to get his rest, but the problem was that Harry couldn't sleep--he couldn't stop thinking about the Horcruxes.

Having given up any hope of falling asleep, Harry sat up in his bed, but did not turn on the light. He thought about the many trips into the Penseive he had made with Dumbledore the previous year ... looking at memories from which he could learn more about Voldemort, his weaknesses, his Horcruxes ...

Feeling thirsty, Harry pulled off the blankets and got out of bed, going down the stairs and into the kitchen. To his surprise, he found Hermione sitting there, in the darkness, her hand clutching what appeared to be a half-eaten sandwich. Hearing his footsteps, she looked at him, startled.

"Harry!" she said softly, careful not to raise her voice too much in case she woke Ron. "Couldn't you sleep?"

He shook his head, and after fetching himself a glass of water, sat down opposite Hermione, who took a bite of her sandwich. "What are you doing down here, Hermione?"

She smiled, her cheeks bulging, then swallowed. "I couldn't sleep either," she said. "It's just ... I couldn't stop thinking about how ... we're never going to go back to school again. We're not children anymore, Harry, and we'll never worry about detentions or homework or exams again ..."

Harry looked at her for a moment as she trailed off. "You still have seventh year, Hermione. You could have gone to another school, even if Hogwarts isn't open anymore. Beauxbatons doesn't appear to be too bad ..."

"No," Hermione said, and this time, she didn't seem to care that she was talking with her mouth full. "Ron and I are coming and we're going to help you, Harry, even if you don't want us there. You're going to need all the help you can get."

Smiling, Harry said, "Thanks. That really means ... a lot. To me."

Grinning back, her cheeks bulging once more, and her sandwich almost finished, Hermione swallowed. Suddenly, she started to giggle.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, amused. He hardly ever saw Hermione giggle before--she was never that sort of girl, and Harry was glad for it.

"I was just thinking," Hermione said, as she took the last bite of her sandwich, and brushed the crumbs off her fingers. "Being in this house again, made me think about those awful objects we used to find here ... I know some were Dark Objects, some were just plain ugly ... don't you remember that music box? And those awful goblets ... I don't mean to offend you or Sirius in any way, but those gobletswere ugly, especially with those awful crests on them ... Harry, what's wrong?"

Looking alarmed that she might have said something wrong, Hermione looked at Harry, concerned, but Harry made a gesture with his hand, waving her concern aside. "I just ... I know where to find the locket!"

"What?" Hermione asked, her face showing a mixture of admiration and surprise. "What made you think of it? Where is it?"

"What you said, about those objects ... especially the goblets ... it jogged my memory." Harry stood up, paused, and then, with a soft 'good night' to Hermione, started to ascend the stairs.

"Wait ... Harry, where are you going?"

Harry looked over his shoulder and said, "To sleep. I'm going to need my rest, if we're going to destroy a piece of Voldemort's soul tomorrow. Besides, now that I know where the locket is ... I might sleep easier."

He left Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensive, as he went back to his room. And he was right--he fell asleep as soon as he climbed under the sheets.


Fenrir Greyback was as filthy, disgusting, and hairy he had been the time he had gone with the Death Eaters to Hogwarts, the night that Dumbledore had died. His nails were long and yellow, as were his teeth, and his face was almost black from lack of showering. Remus Lupin despised the man, but to keep his cover, and to continue spying on the werewolves' activities, he knew that he had to, at least, be civil to the foul creature.

Remus looked up as Greyback barged into his room, looking somewhat eager.

"Lupin!" he snarled, and Lupin watched in horror (though he tried not to show it on his face) as Greyback pushed a young boy, who could not have been older than 8 years of age, at his feet. "I've brought you something for supper," he said, eyeing the boy hungrily.

"Thank you, Fenrir," Lupin said, though he felt nauseated. "I'll ... you know how I am, Fenrir. I like to have my privacy, especially when I'm ... indulging ... myself." He found it difficult to get the words out.

"Always so self-conscious," Fenrir growled, looking somewhat amused. "Indulge me this once, Remus, and let me watch. I love to watch, as you know ..." He frowned when he caught Remus' slightly-worried expression.

"Please, Fenrir, my privacy?"

Greyback looked peeved, as he started to head to the door, and Remus felt somewhat relieved. However, his relief disappeared as Fenrir turned around suddenly.

"No," he suddenly said. "This time, I want to watch. I want to make sure."

Lupin felt panic begin to seize his heart as he managed to get the words out, "Make sure of what, Fenrir?"

Smiling evilly, Fenrir crossed his arms and said, "Make sure that you bite him."

"Of course I'll bite him, I'm a werewolf, aren't I?" Remus snapped. "Please Fenrir ..."

Suddenly looking furious, Fenrir Greyback soon had Remus by the collar, his hot, stinky breath on the ex-Hogwarts professor's face. "I want you to know that I'm on to you, Remus," Fenrir snarled, as Lupin gulped and grabbed at his claw-like hands. "I've never seen you bite before, Remus ... what, you claim you want privacy, but how do you explain the absence of bodies when you're done? I've never seen you take a bite ... prove me wrong Remus, take a bite from this boy's neck, and let me watch ..."

Somewhat repulsed by the smell of sweat, rotting flesh, and bad breath, Remus turned away, still trying to remove Fenrir's hands from his collar. He caught the eye of the small boy, who hadn't moved from where he knelt on the ground, and he felt a mixture of sadness, panic and horror. He looked back at Fenrir, whose hands had moved from Lupin's collar to his neck.

"Do it," Fenrir snarled, and Lupin tried to suppress a shudder as he felt the other werewolf's hot breath on his neck. Suddenly, his neck felt wet from where Fenrir had placed his wet lips on, and Lupin somehow froze. It was an unfamiliar situation, something he wasn't prepared for. Reality sank back in when he felt the scrape of pointed teeth against his flesh, as Fenrir kissed his neck.

"Do it," Greyback said into his neck, and Remus shuddered at the hot breath on his neck, and the claw-like hands suddenly groping further down at his robes. "Do it, or I'll have you for supper."