Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes
Chapter Sixteen : --When First We Practise to Deceive

25 October 2003 (continued)

1:10 pm

Avery's instincts were prickled by the quiet, a quiet he had not been expecting. Closing and bolting the door behind him, he quickly took in the tableau: Severus was where he'd left him, bound between the two posts, Remus was still apparently unconscious on the floor, and Draco--Draco was slumped against the wall opposite Severus, seemingly asleep. A hard kick to Remus' ribs with no reaction assured him the werewolf was still unconscious. He bent over, shaking Draco's shoulder roughly with a, "This is no time to be sleeping, boy." Getting no response other than Draco's head falling forward on his chest, he soon found a "Finite Incantatum" also did nothing to rouse the young man. Avery shrugged; Draco was breathing and not in any immediate danger. Perhaps Snape would have an answer.

He walked over to the man and observed the bloody, aborted incisions in his chest, the wavering line clearly the work of an inexperienced hand. Draco must have done it, but Avery was unable to understand why the boy would have started but not finished. 'Maybe he wanted his pound of flesh and Severus retaliated? Bah! That makes no sense. Look at him, Snape's close to being gone.'

He looked at Draco's cuts dispassionately and snorted in disgust as he noticed the wound was off-centre to the work he'd done before. Running his hand over the two eyes to make sure Draco had not disturbed the curse, and seeing they were intact, he huffed a short spell, healing the partial slices completely with no scarring. 'There, much better. I am going to have to speak to the boy--he almost destroyed my artwork.'

He lifted Severus' head back by his hair, noting that while the man was standing and not sagging against the tethers, he was barely conscious. "What happened to Draco, Severus?" he asked dangerously.

"The boy never did pay attention," Severus gasped, his eyes rolling. "It wouldn't let him. Told him it wouldn't. Told him he couldn't. Stupid imbecile! Never did listen to his elders--you should be teaching him better manners. Happened the way I told him it would--"

Avery dropped Snape's head in disgust. The man was barmy--he'd not get anything coherent out of him now. "I can't believe you caved so quickly," he said to Snape, walking over to Remus, prodding him with a foot to the groin, making doubly sure he was still unconscious. "I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that." Expecting (and receiving) no reply, he turned his attention to Draco.

He sat on his haunches disgustedly eyeing Lucius' son in a manner he would not have shown had he been awake. He couldn't stand the arrogant twit, but he was the son of the most powerful Wizard in England. And though Snape was mad, he had the right of it when he said Draco didn't pay attention; it would do him no good if the prat got hurt in what was supposed to be simple fun and games--the lad had a way of twisting things around to his advantage that reminded Avery of his father at that age. No, he had to step smart with this one. A more thorough check of his position and a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head made Avery think Draco had most likely tripped and hit the wall on his own. "Stupid, clumsy git." Totally distracted, he was just drawing his wand to Enervate the young man when a shouted "Petrificus Totalus" crashed into him as a bare heel connected with his temple.

Remus watched in satisfaction as Avery toppled over, body frozen in what would be an uncomfortable position later on. He was swaying with the effort from that one kick, but the adrenaline was flowing smoothly, rapidly through his veins, and the aches and pains and stiffness were receding, to be replaced with his very strong survival instincts. He quickly cast the same binding spell on Draco as well, just in case. He would love to linger to see Draco's face when he regained consciousness, but contented himself instead with the murderous eyes Avery fixed on him. "Comfortable there, 'Linny'? No? Too bad," Remus chortled.

Turning away from the men with one last satisfied glance, he dusted his hands, saying, "Sorry we can't stay for tea, but we have a busy schedule this afternoon. Now, where was I? Oh, yes--first things first, though," he said, limping to the back table. While sickened by the array of deadly tools and weapons lining the top, he muttered, "My, my, 'Linny', didn't your nanny teach you to put your toys away when you were through playing with them?" He shuddered at the instruments--Avery had used only a small fraction of what he'd brought. With a supreme effort, the werewolf reached over the neatly arranged array for the water bottle, their clothing, and Severus' weapons laid out at the back against the wall. He took his clothes and rapidly dressed in his inner robe, wincing at the pull of sore muscles and skin; however, to be even partially clothed again made him feel much more confident.

Moving silently, he next poured a small amount of the cool water into the attached cup and greedily gulped it down. He could feel it sliding down his parched throat: it felt like his body absorbed it like a sponge, leaving no trace, so he poured and drank a second cup, the swallowed water sitting in his stomach like lead. He thirsted for more, but limited it to this--to take more at this point would only make him sick.

Finding all of Severus' daggers he carefully reassembled the gauntlets and put them and the staff with Severus' clothes. Quickly he took the cup, the water bottle, and the pile with the weapons and robes over to Severus. Putting the clothes on the floor for the moment, he poured another full measure of water and gently lifted Severus' head up with his hand under his chin; his skin was so cold and clammy. Severus opened his eyes wide when he saw who it was.

"I'm not going to question how you got away, Wolf, but may I suggest you leave quickly before someone else finds you," Snape croaked hoarsely.

"What, and leave you here to enjoy all the fun without me? Very inconsiderate of you, if you ask me. Don't be such an idiot--here, sip this." He tipped the brimming cup to Severus' lips. A tiny bit dripped down his face, but he got the rest of it, his swollen tongue licking around his lips trying to catch every drop. He closed his eyes to savour the hydration, small as it was. Remus, seeing that Severus' thirst was greater than his own, poured another cup. Severus sipped it down about halfway before turning his head away; he'd had enough for now.

But it had helped. His voice stronger, he said, "No, the only idiot here is you if you think you can get me out of here. I won't get more than a few feet before I collapse and then where would you be, hmmm?

"Maybe, maybe not," Lupin murmured, "but at least you would be a few feet closer to the door. If necessary, I'll float you out."

"With what, you fool? Your good looks and charm?" he sneered.

He held up the wands. "Ah, Sevvie, I didn't know you cared." he baited him, knowing anger was as good a crutch as two sticks of wood. "I got you into this mess, I WILL get you out of it." He pointed the paired wands at the fetter on Severus' right arm. With a quick spell, it dissolved and Remus caught Severus as he started to fall.

Severus almost howled as the relieved pressure in his arm and shoulder swiftly turned into agony--bone and muscle began to receive blood once more; it was excruciating and he swayed with the effort to stay upright as he had no desire to wrench the other arm, still bound to its pillar. Severus was not as lucid any more, the pain, wrapping around the knowledge of his loss, starting his retreat into his own personal sanctuary.

Remus watched the changing expressions on Severus' face--he'd been in this position before himself and waited impatiently. He constantly glanced back at the door until Snape had regained some control; he released the second arm. Severus sagged against him, taking huge breaths of air, his head on Remus' shoulder. Remus wrapped his arms around him to support him and, with two flicks of the paired wands, released his legs as well. They staggered back a few steps before Lupin lowered him to the ground.

While Remus had a fairly large repertoire of healing spells to deal with the consequences of his own lunar transformations, they were more centred on the internal havoc the change caused rather than any external healing and were specific to werewolves. Taking mental stock of his injuries, he knew they would be sufficient to heal him most of the way; the rest Poppy would have to take care of when they made it back to Hogwarts. He cast those first on himself; the relief was immediate and with lesions and bruises mostly healed, he felt stronger, more flexible. It felt wonderful to be able to pull in a full breath without the sharp pain of broken ribs; the area was still tender and fragile, but it would do for now.

Severus was another matter altogether, though. Based on what he had witnessed, the most he could do would be superficial, and he was fairly certain that not even Poppy would be able to take care of some of the injuries; Severus was going to need the services of a Healer. Wary of treating anyone but himself, Remus had only learned the basic first aid spells everyone learned in the Order. He shrugged; they might not do much good, but they certainly could cause no harm. Using only his wand, he cast the few general healing spells he knew and an Enervate on Severus; it was enough to seal the open cuts and whip marks and remove the bruising, but it didn't do much else. While breathing easier, his skin was still far too pale--even for Snape.

Fairly sure Severus would stay sitting upright where he was, Remus hastily donned the remainder of his robes, the thick outer cloak warming him quickly. He raised the wands again, saying, "Sorry Severus, you're going to have to go commando--I couldn't find your skivvies," as he magicked Severus' robes, cloak, and weapons on him, ignoring the sharp hisses of pain Snape let out as smooth wool met torn flesh. "That is assuming, of course, that you had any in the beginning. I always thought you were a naughty boy."

He allowed himself a glance at Avery, whose thunderous eyes bored into him. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice," Remus sneered. He left Severus sitting on the floor and stood over the two men. Seeing that Draco was now awake as well, he drawled, "You know, Draco, you have my undying gratitude that you did not listen to Snape when he warned you not to cut him. You should know by now he has a soft spot for hopeless Slytherins, the gods only know why--would have saved you a bit of bother with that coshed head and cost us our freedom if you'd paid attention for once. No matter, we'll bid you both adieu and wish you much luck in explaining this to Lucius. He's such a forgiving man." He raised the wands saying, "Nighty, night--Stupefy," as he cast the spell to knock the boy out. He did the same to Avery, relishing the moment the malignant stare went slack. "I hope you both have nightmares," he said, turning back to Snape. He got his arms under his companion and heaved, but had only lifted him a few inches off the ground before his strength failed him. It was all he could do to let Severus back down without hurting him further.

"C'mon you auld sod, you've got to help me here. I don't know if I can levitate you out of here and I need to conserve what little magic I have. I know you hurt--so do I. But I'll be damned if I'm going to leave you behind. So get out of wherever it is you've gone and help me get you moving. I swear to the gods, Severus, if you don't help me, I'm going to transform you into a tiny, bright pink toad to match Tonk's hair and carry you in my pocket. And you don't want to know what I put in my pockets. Hagrid carries nicer things in his pockets than I." He heard the weak chuckle. "See, I knew you were in there somewhere," he muttered, pulling up on Snape again. "Don't make me levitate you. I failed levitation--twice. Terrible NEWT's. There's no telling how many walls I'll crash you into."

With a low groan Severus struggled desperately, clinging to Remus and stood, swaying, before he regained his balance. He was still leaning heavily on the werewolf, though, as they made their slow way across the cell. Reaching the door, Remus shot the bolt and opened it with difficulty; it was heavy and he could only use one hand, the other holding Severus steady. With hesitant steps, and a quick look both ways, they passed through into the hallway beyond.

1:15 pm

Bethany was quite cross with her half-breed cat, Pinkerton (affectionately called 'Pinkie'), who was even more pregnant than she was herself. On their precipitous return to the estate a few minutes ago, after a delay of more than an hour, she'd seen the bushy whisk of a tail heading around the corner, with a suspicious trail of blood behind it, and a glimpse of a limp form carried in her mouth. 'Damn the animal! She's delivering and trying to hide the kittens from me.' This was most inconvenient; all of the litter was already spoken for, so she couldn't afford to lose any of them.

Bethany's cats made good, strong familiars; their kneazle magic bred straight and true. They were part of what she exchanged for the juicier tidbits of gossip she collected for Lucius. Mrs. Fortesque, in particular, was one of her primary sources of information from the Ministry as her husband, a loose-lipped man from Fudge's time who had survived the purge, was high-ranking enough to get his hands on papers no one else could obtain. Although the Malfoy name alone was enough to get Bethany into Millie's exclusive clique, the cats she freely gave them and their families bought her entrance into the "inner" circle of close acquaintances--mostly older witches with good connections and wicked tongues. Bethany was under no illusions as to why they tolerated her youthful presence--no cats, no gossip. It certainly wasn't because of any information she gave them, which was little to none, except that which Lucius told her to let slip to them.

Lucius had gone off--somewhere. She really didn't much care where he was as she was still rather scared (and vexed with him) from his rough treatment of her in Diagon Alley. They'd arrived at Madame Malkin's only to find out the robes were not ready. To say Lucius was upset was an understatement when he found it would be at least another hour before they would be finished. When he again refused to leave her there alone, Bethany had saved the poor hapless clerk a serious hexing when she'd smoothly suggested Lucius use the time to visit with his 'niece', Natalie. He'd given her a strange look, but, calming, he'd said that was a very good idea and left shortly thereafter. She wished him well away and used the time to sip tea (brought to her by the fawning, grateful clerk) to calm her own anger at the whole situation; it would not do for Lucius to see her so upset--it was enough that he knew she was.

A little over an hour later, a smug, more relaxed Lucius had joined her. She could only assume his 'toy' had done her job, as was expected. They'd got the new robes and then travelled back to their home by Floo as her pregnancy would not allow her to Apparate. Giving a house-elf her cloak, she swiftly gave the evening meal instructions to another and then went after her recalcitrant feline.

She followed the wet trail the cat left in intermittent stages. She had to find the place where Pinkie was moving the kits. Once she finished giving birth she would stay put, but during the birthing she was always cagey and sly. Based on the direction the queen had gone, she was heading for the lower levels. 'Oh, bother!' she thought, drawing her wand, 'I hate going down there--it's always so damp and messes with my hair. Not to mention Lucius gets a bit uptight if I go down there. Like seeing his little 'guests' might upset me or something. He forgets who my father is.' She briefly toyed with the idea of calling one of the house-elves to fetch the cat, but remembered that the only two she'd ever trusted to get Pinkie and the kittens safely were the two she'd lost to Lucius' temper.

Resigned to an unpleasant search, she went after the cat. The steep stone steps were uneven and treacherous; she slipped more than once on the way down and had a death grip on the wall railing by the time she made it to the bottom. And of course, the inches of stomach out in front of her helped her balance none. The trail was fainter down here, the dark stone absorbing the moisture like a sponge. And she had a challenge. It appeared the cat had gone in both directions. The trail to the left was fresher than the one to the right, so she followed it, her soft house slippers silent on the stone flags.

She rounded the third bend and gasped. Ahead of her were two men, one old (judging from the grey locks), the other, taller by a head, leaning on him heavily as they limped their way along the corridor away from her. Her gasp made the older one spin around, wand drawn menacingly. The other one turned slowly, almost unbalanced by the other's sudden move. She closed her eyes against the hex she knew was coming; pregnant, she was fairly defenseless, her reflexes sluggish, her magic weaker. Her eyes flew open when she heard the younger one croak, "No, Remus, don't hex her. You'll only hurt her and the child."

"But, Severus, she'll raise the alarm," the old one protested. "At least let me gag her."

She glanced at the younger, taller one and stared, she couldn't help it. She stepped closer to them, hand extended, her head filled with an old memory of when she'd been a little girl, around eight, living in England with her mother. She'd been very ill. The healers called were all Death Eaters like her father, contemptuous of her pain, her lethargy, the fever raging through her. They'd been rough when examining her, their dark magic making her sicker. With heated words to her father, they demanded to know why he was wasting their time--she was, after all, only a girl-child, the last of eight. Why would he bother when he had more than enough children remaining and a wife young enough to bear more?

All except one. This one. He'd been the last to see her. He'd swept into the room, cloak and robes flying, his presence looming; she'd been afraid. Until he touched her. His cool hands had been gentle, his eyes, when not concealed under his hood, compassionate. His voice had been low and rich; it had made her feel safe. He'd seen her once and then the next day returned when her vision was full of fevered dreams; he'd brought her a potion. He'd held her close on his lap, his wand on her throat making her swallow, as her mother had poured the foul-tasting concoction into her mouth; she'd gagged as he'd made her take it.

She remembered his hot warmth as he'd held her freezing body, wrapped in layers of blankets, close against his under his outer robes through the convulsions the potion caused, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly. He'd later held her head over a bucket by the bed as she'd vomited up everything she had in her. Her mother had trusted him enough to let him stay in the room with her alone. And when it was over, he'd laid her weak body on the bed, pulling the heavy, warmed covers under her chin. His black eyes in the firelight had held her gaze for an eternity and then, brushing her hair aside with slender, stained fingers, he'd leant down and kissed her forehead, his long, lank hair smelling of grass and sunshine, tickling her face. Pulling back, he'd whispered, "Don't ever let them tell you that you are less than anyone else. You have courage to spare, little one. You are better than they are."

She'd never seen him again, but she always remembered him and his words. She took another step and others until she was a few feet from him, her face open in its wonder, her wide eyes not leaving his. "It was you," she said with a whisper, "I didn't know it was you."

"Hullo, Bethany," Severus rasped gently. "I see you still carry your courage like a shield."

Remus, still under the illusion spell, slowly lowered his wand. He was about to ask her for help, when she said, "You're Severus Snape?"

He chuckled weakly. "Last time I looked I was."

"My husband wants you dead," she stated flatly.

"All the more reason for you to turn around and leave us. It is better you not be involved," he replied with a grimace.

"No. You're hurt, and so is your friend. Fair is fair and I have a life debt with you." With little thought and no regrets, she pulled her wand and cast a rapid series of minor healing spells on them both. It was quickly done and the results were instantaneous. Severus stood taller, he felt stronger, but more importantly, the pain was receding.

Remus felt his stiffness diminish, the remaining bruising going away. He felt almost whole.

She gestured at her belly. "I'm sorry I can do no more, but my magic is not the same."

"It's more than we have any right to expect from the wife of an enemy," Remus said quietly by way of thanks.

"No, not my enemy. This makes us even, Mr. Snape. My life debt is now paid."

"In full, Madame. It is imperative you leave," he said gently.

"I will, but first you have to hex me." She lifted her head high.

Remus let his confusion show. "Hex you? Why?"

"I'm not supposed to be down here, but that damn cat came down and I can't lose her." At their dual incredulity, she continued, "Long story and it's not important. If Lucius finds me down here he will be livid. A hex on me will distract him and give me a reason to be properly cross with you."

Severus seriously considered it. "A Jelly-Arms Hex? Will that suffice?"

"Unpleasant, but harmless--yes, that should do fine." Remus cast the spell and as her arms started shaking and wobbling, she said, "I really hate this. Go now, quickly. And, Severus?" she asked shyly. He looked at her keenly. "Give your intended my best. May you share a long life together."

A shutter went down on his eyes and he would have fallen had Remus not caught him. "How could you?" he gasped, holding Severus upright. "And I thought you fair. That was just too cruel. I should hex you into next week!" He raised his wand.

Bethany was mystified, but she held her ground in the face of his threat. "Why is it cruel to wish someone well?"

"Because Harry's dead and you know it," Remus answered angrily, an inch away from hexing her, baby or no. "They brought word this morning. It almost killed him."

"Harry Potter? Dead?" She laughed outright. "I think not. I just saw him two hours ago in Diagon Alley with a terrified house-elf."

"You're having me on," Remus sputtered.

"No, I assure you, on my Beauxbatons' honour, he's very much alive. It sounds like Lucius is the one 'having you on'. Now hurry; you MUST go." She shooed them away with her shaking arms.

Remus stared at her hard and without a word, Severus leaning heavily on him again, he turned them and they made their way down the hall.

She watched until they were out of sight, checked her light coloured robes to make sure there was no blood on them, and walked back the way she came. She was resigned about not finding the cat and decided she would have one of the new house-elves check around for Pinkie and her kittens later, after supper. She arrived at the stairs and had only made it up three steps when she turned and sat as best she could. Without her arms there was no way to end the spell and safely climb back up the treacherous treads, so she waited, knowing someone would be along soon, if for no other reason than to check on the two escaping men. She willed them safely away.

Not too much later, she heard familiar footsteps approaching from the other direction. She steeled herself for his anger, although her quivering arms were beginning to bother her enough, she was more than a little cross herself. He stopped abruptly when he saw her sitting, dejected, on the stairs going back up to the living areas.

"One wonders why you are down here, my sweet." His calmness belied the fury she could see in his eyes.

"Lucius, my dear. Thank the goddess you're here. I was beginning to despair I would ever make it back up the stairs." she temporized, hoping to distract him. "That blasted cat is in labour and has brought her kittens down here to hide them from me. You know how I use them--I can't afford to be missing even one, when--"

He interrupted her, "That does not explain why you are sitting on the stairs." His eyes narrowed, "And why you have no cat."

She held up her shaking arms, her stalling time done. "Well, if you'd let me finish--I'm on the stairs because a couple of your 'guests' down here found me and hexed my arms to keep me from hexing them. I can't safely climb the stairs without them, you know. Really Lucius, such company you keep! Surely you could find some with better manners." Working up a good head of steam, she continued crossly, "And I still haven't found Pinkie. This is MOST inconvenient."

"What 'guests'? What did they look like?" he asked her, his eyes even more menacing.

She already had her answer in hand. It had dawned on her while she was sitting here that the older one had been under a disguise spell, which meant Snape must be under one, too. To admit that she knew one was much younger than the other would be like saying she knew him, which would do her no good. However, neither Lucius nor any of the others would know what his disguise looked like because they personally knew him and therefore would not be fooled by such a disguise. It was time to use the tricks taught to her by the Veela of Beauxbatons.

"Two old men, if you must know. Lucius, are you going to just leave me like this, dear?" Her eyes were clearly upset by his lack of response to her situation and did not show any of the internal fear heralded by her pounding heart.

Lucius watched her carefully for several moments. Seeing no guile, no flicker of subterfuge, he relaxed, his anger fading into a lazy urgency to go see what had happened. He knew that even if Remus and Severus had escaped, they would not get far in any event--Severus was too weak to move fast and Remus was too stupid to leave him behind.

He pulled out his wand and ended the spell Remus had cast on her. Grateful to have the trembling gone, she rubbed her arms and winced when she hit the bruises he'd left earlier. He softened a bit when he saw the movement. Guessing the cause, he put his hands out. She grasped them and he pulled her up off the stairs, but with a little more pull than necessary for she found herself off balance, swaying towards him. He automatically put his arms around her to steady her as she almost fell off the steps. The baby chose that moment to move strongly in protest at the pressure and his eyes popped open wide.

He'd always stayed well away from his wives and mistresses when pregnant. The sight of their swollen bellies reminded him too much of when he'd first taken the Dark Mark and he'd witnessed the grotesquely distended abdomens of captured Muggles, both men and women, as the Gobbel Worm parasites the Dark Wizards grew in each of them struggled to escape only to be harvested and used for the darkest of charms and potions. He remembered a much younger Severus retching when they'd seen the first one "born"; the boy had taken stripes rather than touch or use one. Lucius had actually respected him for that.

But this mound pressing against him was different. This was (his) and it was the first time he'd ever felt one of his own children before they were born. The sensation of movement against him was almost soothing, more intimate than he'd ever thought possible. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm sorry, my sweets," the endearment for once real, "I didn't mean to unbalance you like that. Are you all right? Did they harm you?"

Sensing the quick change in his mood with immense satisfaction, she wound her arms around his neck in reply and kissed him full on the lips. He tasted of brandy and fine cigars. "I'm fine," she murmured into his mouth. "They left me well alone. And baby's fine, too. The taller one stopped the other one from hexing me further."

He deepened the kiss and for a moment forgot everything that was going on around him. But all good things come to an end, as did their first moment of closeness when the baby kicked hard. "Moody little blighter," he chuckled, his hands loosening from around her gravid waist, one hand on the moving mass.

"He is at that." She chuckled at his raised brow. "Yes, yes--it's a boy. I was going to tell you tonight over supper."

He looked pleased. 'A boy! Finally, another heir.' His thoughts ran rampant and he abruptly reined them in--he had other things to take care of at the moment. "Do you think it all right now for you to go up the stairs?" he asked her, genuinely concerned.

Knowing she could hold him no longer, she stepped back within the loose circle of his arms and ran her hand over her hair as if he'd mussed it. She nodded, saying, "Yes, I think so. It's easier to go up them than down." He almost reluctantly released her and stood back, watching her carefully take the stairs slowly, one hand holding her robes up out of the way, the other firm on the rail.

Once assured she would make it upstairs all right, he turned back to the corridor and purposefully strode to the room where the two men were kept. As he was about to open the door, he smirked when he saw Pinkie further on, carrying another kitten in her mouth, leaving her trail. Finally reassured with this 'proof' that Bethany had been telling the truth, he opened the door, much relieved, and went inside.

TBC