Chapter Fourteen
They Apparated to the front gate of Malfoy Manor. Night was falling, and Severus could see the shadow the large mansion made against the burnt ochre of the sky. It had been such a long time since he had been here, but even from this distance, he could see that the manor had fallen into disrepair. Much of the Malfoy's assets had been seized when Lucius was arrested the first time, and then again the second time. Narcissa survived on the money she inherited from her own family, the Blacks. It wasn't enough by the looks of things, especially if she was sending a large portion of that to aid Draco in his hiding.
The gate creaked open as if it had been waiting for them. Potter eyed him. Severus nodded and they proceeded. They each had their wands out, poised and ready to pounce on anything that even hinted at danger. It was not uncommon for magical homes to be booby-trapped against intruders—nasty ones that warned against any further perpetrators. Being the Malfoys, Severus could only imagine what lay in wait for them.
A contingent from the Ministry had already arrived and was in the process of searching the Manor from top to bottom, but Severus doubted they would find anything the Malfoys didn't want found. Draco was a slippery bastard, having learned quite a lot from his father, Severus noted. Disappointed and sad when he had taken the Dark Mark, Severus considered it one of his greatest failings that he hadn't convinced him otherwise. But posing as a Death Eater, he couldn't very well warn against them. Draco had to make his own decisions, and he had decided to follow family tradition. Severus pondered whether or not his advice, if given, would have fallen on deaf ears anyway, so entrenched in the Dark Arts as the Malfoys were. Draco had grown up surrounded by them.
They made it all the way to the front door with no more than a sideways glance at a rustle in the trees. A house-elf answered their knocks, and led them into the drawing room. Severus remembered past meetings in this room with Lucius and other Death Eaters. It looked the same—the same antique furniture, the same Dark books that lined the wall, the snake imagery everywhere. Narcissa swept in.
"Severus, you should have called," she sniffed, not bothering to address or even look in Potter or Weasley's direction, her long, thin nose stuck up in the air. "Sent a note or something, though you never were one for common courtesy."
"This isn't a social call, Narcissa," he answered smoothly.
"Where is Draco?" Potter demanded. Severus resisted the urge to sigh. The boy had no concept whatsoever of subtlety or how to deal with Slytherins. Blazing in and just asking for what you wanted almost never worked, unless of course you were also carrying large amounts of gold along with you.
"My son disappeared after that last battle," Narcissa spat. "How dare you storm into my home and start questioning me about such painful subjects. These people are tearing up my home. It will take the house-elves days to put it all back together." Her eyes welled up with tears, and Severus could tell she was working herself up into a snit. He had seen this act many times before used on Lucius and others, but it would not work this time.
"We don't mean to be rude. But we have information that leads us to believe that your son is still alive. Surely you would do anything in your power to ensure that he is safe." She frowned, sitting primly on the edge of one of the chairs and arranging her robes around her.
"Of course I want Draco alive," she said. "I have always wanted the very best for my son."
"Aiding and abetting a criminal is a serious offense, Mrs. Malfoy," Potter warned. The tears in her eyes dried up immediately as she turned to face him.
"I don't like what you are implying, Mr. Potter. You may be the savior of the Wizarding world, but that hardly gives you the right to start throwing around unfounded and slanderous accusations like confetti," she said, her voice as cold as ice.
"Explain then why you were sending money to Ms. Estrilda Wondergood," Potter demanded.
"She is the matron of a very wonderful organization that helps those magical children who have had the misfortune of losing a parent. They have lost their mothers, and I have lost my son. It is only natural that I would be interested in such a cause."
It was a practiced answer, and Severus briefly wondered how long she had stood in front of her gilded mirror and repeated it. Several times judging by the flawlessness of the delivery.
"And Mr. Mahoney?"
"I have no idea who you are talking about," she sniffed. Severus snorted his disbelief, and she turned her glare to rest on him. He returned it with equal force until she was obligated to turn away.
"Then what of reports that your son has returned to Great Britain, and in fact to this Manor?" Potter said. Severus was starting to wonder what was taking the Aurors so long. If Draco were here then surely they would have found him by now. Snape was tiring of Potter's Poirot routine.
"If Draco is alive then I hope he wouldn't be so stupid and sentimental as to return here. I want him alive and happy, and he certainly won't be that sitting in Azkaban." Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arm of the chair.
"Why would he be sentimental?" Severus asked, stepping forward. Narcissa opened her mouth and then closed it again, deciding how to best answer his question. It was one answer she hadn't practiced in front of her mirror.
A bang and a crash interrupted them. Potter jumped up and rushed from the room followed closely by Ron. Severus stood and motioned for Narcissa to precede him. They sauntered into the hallway to find Draco being wrestled to the floor by two beefy Aurors. Potter stood with his wand raised and pointed at the fray, but refrained from shooting off any hexes lest he hit one of his own men.
Frankly, Severus was surprised by his lack of restraint. Apparently, Auror training had done some good, training a bit of the impetuousness out of the boy. But he had more important things to focus on rather than worrying about his newfound appreciation for a Potter.
Ron jumped in the middle of the fray, his fists curled and flying. Between him and the Aurors, they finally wrestled Draco to the ground after several moments of grappling with each other. Grunts of exertion from the men on the floor combined with Narcissa's huffs and cries combined to irritate Severus. He wanted that information, and he wanted it now.
Draco winced as one of the Aurors pushed his head into the marble tiling of the floor. The other sat on his legs. Both were red in the face and gasping for air.
"You win, you win," Draco conceded.
"All this violence…is it really necessary?" Narcissa asked brusquely, rushing over and kneeling next to her son. "Let him up," she ordered the Auror. "Now!"
The man kept his grip tight on Draco, who had stopped struggling and was now lying still, and looked to Harry. Potter nodded and he let Draco ease up. Ropes burst forth from his wand and Draco found himself bound from chest to knees. Only then did the two Aurors step back.
"Surely a simple Stunner would have sufficed?" Severus asked, appalled to have seen such a display of pure violence. Wizards rarely fought hand to hand, preferring to stay behind the relative safety of their wands.
"He took us by surprise," the second Auror said, trying to regain his composure.
Narcissa sniffed, shooting them evil looks before turning to coddle her long lost son. "Have they hurt you, my darling?"
"I'm fine. Just help me up," Draco said with a sneer, wiggling against the ropes. Narcissa drew her wand, but Severus stopped her.
"I'd rather do it, thank you." She glared at him, but he ignored it, casting a Mobilicorpus and moving Draco into a chair in the adjoining room. "We have a few questions to ask him. You can wait outside," Severus told Narcissa when she tried to follow him into the room.
She watched helplessly as Potter, Weasley, and the other Aurors walked into the room. Shutting the door behind him, Severus couldn't help but smirk at her indignant stance. It must be frustrating to be so powerless in one's own home.
Turning around, Severus leaned back against the door for a moment, taking in the scene. The restrained Draco in the chair he had dropped him in, looking uncomfortable. Potter and Weasley looking as murderous as he felt hovering nearby. The other two Aurors standing like sentinels off to the side, their wands not out, but their hands poised to draw them at a moment's notice if the situation were to call for it.
"Now that we have you, we have some questions to ask you," Severus started, advancing towards Draco. "What spell did you use on Hermione?"
"I don't know what you're on about," Draco said with a scowl.
"I think you do," he said leaning down until their noses almost touched, his black hair sliding against Draco's cheek.
"I have no idea."
"Let's start at the beginning," Potter said, pushing Severus away from Draco. "What were you doing in London in September?"
"I'm not saying a thing until I talk to a lawyer," Draco said.
"Things will go easier on you if you talk now," Weasley pointed out.
"Is that so, Weasel? The public wants mercy for former Death Eaters now, do they?"
Ron turned red at the old insult. "Shut up, you ferret."
"We need to know what spell you used on Hermione in order to best reverse it. You tell us that and we will petition for leniency. That's saying a lot coming from the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort," Harry told him.
"Yes, perhaps I will let you live for what you have done to my wife," Severus said soft and dangerous.
"Your wife? Granger? That's rich," Draco said with a laugh. Severus was tempted to break his arrogant nose.
"You didn't know she was married to Snape?" Harry asked, looking puzzled, at least more than he normally did.
"I've been on the run for ten years, Potter. Sorry if I haven't had time to read the social column. I'm not surprised that a traitor would marry a Mudblood, though I never would have guessed it to be Granger."
"Don't call her that!" Severus said, lunging for him. Harry grabbed him, holding him back. Severus stopped, trying to compose himself. It would not do to kill him before they had their information. "I'll kill you for what you did to her—a slow, agonizing death, Draco," he said soft and dangerous.
Draco tried to look brave, but he was no Gryffindor, his eyes betraying his fear. Severus might have spied for the Order of the Phoenix, but he had been a Death Eater at one time. He was still capable of many things.
"But what were you doing in London four months ago?" Ron asked, obviously trying to bring them back round to the point of the evening.
Draco turned from Severus to scowl at Weasley. He was much safer to taunt him than his former Head of House. "I wasn't in London. Why would I come back here?" he said.
"You did just now," Harry pointed out.
"Because you cut off my source of money, and…because I thought you might do something to my mother because of me." Draco admitted, his face turning red at the admission.
"So how did you kidnap Hermione then?" Harry asked.
Draco sighed. "I didn't hurt your bushy-haired Mudblood friend, Potter. Try and keep up. You have the wrong person."
It wasn't Malfoy. Hermione hadn't been hurt because she had come too close to discovering the Death Eater on the run. But then why? They were right back at square one.
"Then who?" he snarled.
"Don't know and I don't care," Draco said. Severus stormed from the room, nearly knocking over Narcissa who had been standing with her ear to the door.
"Snape! Snape, where are you going?" Potter yelled after him. He followed Severus into the vestibule.
"Home. I'm going home to my wife and telling her I have NO IDEA who has done this to her. And I have NO IDEA how to fix it!" he whispered, barely reining in his anger and frustration. And then he stormed down to the gate where he Apparated back to Hogwarts.
He expected to find Hermione in their rooms. The walk from the gate to the castle, and then down to the dungeons had cooled his temper slightly, but he still dreaded telling her where he had been, even wondering if it would be necessary. Surely, Potter would inform her later, and by avoiding it tonight, he would also avoid the conversation-sure-to-turn-into-an-argument about how he had left her behind at the party.
But she wasn't there. The rooms were as they left them before the party—the robes she had tried on but had rejected lying across the bed, his papers spread out on the couch where he had sat waiting for her to get ready. None of it had been touched.
Where was she? He massaged his temples as he paced the floor. He should be glad for the time to think, the time to come up with a plan on dealing with her, on what their next move should be, but he wasn't. There was a niggling feeling in his stomach, something that told him all was not right.
He didn't want to appear overbearing but he didn't think he would rest until she was at home with him. He needed her calming presence. She always knew just what to do to make him feel better. Even without her memories, she had retained that ability. And though he dreaded telling her about tonight, he still wanted her close by.
Deciding to go back to the party and fetch her, he stepped into the fireplace. The party was still in full-swing when he stepped out of the Floo. The music blared, couples were dancing, and the alcohol appeared to be flowing freely from the state of several partygoers who greeted him enthusiastically. No one sober would dare approach him in such a manner, a persona that had been carefully cultivated over many years. Dusting the soot off his robes, he scanned the crowd for Hermione's distinctive bushy hair. But she was nowhere to be found.
"Where is Hermione?" he asked McGonagall. She seemed to be the only person in the room who wasn't close to falling over. He expected he would be hearing from them all tomorrow when they would want his 'special' headache potions.
"She got a letter and left straight away. I assumed it was from you. Albus told me you found Malfoy tonight."
"No, it wasn't from me. She didn't say who?"
Minerva shook her head. "She asked where you were. She was pretty upset that you had gone without her, and then she muttered something about being an Auror once, nothing she couldn't handle, and she left."
"And you let her?" he hissed.
"I couldn't have stopped her. Really, I assumed she was going after you," Minerva said indignantly.
"Well, she didn't come looking for me. There must have been something in that letter about new information about her case. And now she's out there alone, and no one knows where!" He was yelling now. The din in the room quieted to an uncomfortable silence as the party guests turned to stare at him. He scowled at them. Idiots, all of them! He left for two minutes and they let his Hermione leave on a potentially dangerous mission by herself.
But he would deal with them later. At the moment, he had to find Hermione. If it had been less than two hours ago then he could trace her Apparation trail and follow her. He sent a quick Envoyas Charm to let Potter know what was going on and then waved his wand around the sidewalk outside the front door.
There! Someone had Apparated recently from the front porch to…to Ottery St. Catchpole. That wasn't Hermione's but a Weasley's. He tried again, finally coming across a faint trace of an Apparation to the northern highlands. This must be it. Hoping Potter would bring Aurors as back-up, preferably the two big ones who had wrestled Draco to the floor, he popped out of existence.
Severus followed her trail to a ramshackle shack on the side of a hill. The loud pop of his own Apparation banished any hope of sneaking in and taking anyone by surprise. The door swung open, a shadowed figure standing on the threshold. Severus could see Hermione tied to a chair inside.
"I've been expecting you, Snape," a gravelly old voice barked. It could only belong to one person—Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.
A/N: Congratulations to everyone who guessed Moody before now, especially Zara who started guessing that it washim back in Chapter Three, making me wonder if I had made it too obvious. You deserve some sort of prize. Thanks to Larilee for beta reading! And to everyone who reviews.