AN: If you reviewed and didn't get a reply, I sent one but then the page couldn't be found…so…I'm sorry for that! Or I possibly thought I already sent you one… Don't let my ignorance deter you from leaving another review. Or if you got two…well…my lands, I'm so disorganized! From now on, I'm going to reply to reviews ASAP instead of in one lump!
Sorry for the delay. I've had school, softball, new job, a dental dilemma, and even a death, but summer is here and I hope to have more free time.
Thanks to all my reviewers for sticking with me despite my inconsistencies, inability to spell at times and for my super random ADD moments! Gracias to the anonymous guys out there! Remember…gah…my thanks are no longer here!
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Last Chapter: "Merlin," she said, kneeling next to him, "I don't know what the bloody hell this is, but I'm certainly not dead and thank God that you aren't either."
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"I just had a dream," she said.
"Of what?" he asked, yawing at the end.
"It was of Snape," she said, her eyes wide. "I visited him and he's not dead."
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"You did what?" repeated Remus for what seemed to Hermione the hundredth time.
"I told you. I saw Snape in Voldemort's dungeons. He's not dead, Remus, I was there. Megan Hollowell has been leading me to him." Her anxious face watched as he stood, pacing back and forth. Remus was experiencing a severe case of bed head as his tousled hair stuck up oddly above his wrinkled in brow, furrowed in rapid thought.
He paused and gave her a nonplussed look. "Hermione, she's dead. How is what you're saying even possible? No magic can bring back the dead in any form."
"She's a Seer, Remus, and far from alive." Feeling exasperated, she continued, "I told you, I don't know how this is happening. Something about being stuck on the spiritual astral plane. But I'm not going crazy. It was more than just a dream; I was in those dungeons…with all the screaming." She closed her eyes and shook her head at the memory. It's not as if she went around asking to see these things.
"Okay…okay." He reclaimed his seat next to her and rubbed her arm soothingly. "If you were still having problems sleeping…with dreams, why didn't you come to me? Remember I said you could come and get me if this persisted. If I had had any indication-"
Hermione pressed her lips together, picking at his bedspread before looking at him. "I learned how to not scream out, even with all the dead people and Death Eaters." She sighed. "Maybe it was I just somehow knew that you'd dismiss these like the very first one I had."
"I didn't dismiss it; I rationalized it. Trying to make some sense of what happened. Just like I'm doing right now. Trying to make sense of what you are telling me. So, she guided you to Snape and you two talked?"
Her face continued to hold an unsure look, but she dignified his question, "Yes, like I said, I walked right into his cell and spoke to him plain as day. Gave him a terrible shock. He looked awful, completely pale, almost lifeless and very cold."
The description did not seem to cause any major outward stirrings of sympathy for Snape's plight (sounded like how Severus looked on a normal basis); instead Remus looked on more concerned as Hermione stared in thought at the floor with upset consuming her features. He risked stroking her back since she had moved a bit down the bed from him earlier. Softly, he asked, "What exactly did he tell you? Anything that could be of any help?"
"Mostly, the fact about how sorry he was, but," she glanced at him unsurely again, "you're going to think this sounds completely ridiculous."
He hastily shook his head. "No, go on."
"Then he told me something rather…odd. He said, 'They told me to tell you. The lock and key must find each other. Don't forget.'" She paused in her own bewilderment of the statement, her mouth open briefly, before shrugging. "I don't know what he meant by that."
Tiredly, Remus thought, Great. Everyone's a psychic now. Let's all predict the future. "He's been in that dungeon for awhile now. He could have been babbling anything."
"No," quickly cut in Hermione. "You didn't see his face when he said that. You didn't see him being tortured and still yelling out to me. He wasn't a lunatic; he was sane. Before that, he was talking about you as if nothing had happened."
"Hermione, you know I've never taken much stock in divination. Dreams, teacups, divine voices. This could all just be an expression of you trying to tie up the loose ends with him, to set it right."
She shot him an angry glare, her eyes filled with frustrated tears. "Yet, when Dumbledore read the prophecy, you believed it. Without even the paternity potion, which blew sky high, you believed the father was Snape. I never heard you once offer up an alternate. This," she grabbed his hand and placed it on her abdomen, "is not a dream. This is real. My dream is not Dumbledore with a slip of paper and all the answers. You can't hold it in your hand. Why can't you just take me at my word?"
He wanted to say 'Yes, Hermione, I believe you', but he kept analyzing it. There were too many variables, too many others. "What if it was some sort of dark ploy to get you to do or believe something that's false? What if they're trying to use your dreams against you?"
"So now you're admitting I had these dreams?" she blasted back, arms crossed. The infamous Granger look was nearly searing him in two.
They were getting nowhere with this. Sighing, he said, "I never denied the fact you had any dreams. I'm just-I'm just trying to piece this all together."
He rubbed his eyes and slowly reopened them. His gaze soon locked on something he hadn't noticed yet. Before she could pull away, he gently brushed bits of gravel that clung to her dimpled-in knees. She looked down just as amazed as him. "Where did that come from?"
She hastened to brush off the rest. "I've never brought anything back before…"
"But you never left the bed. I never felt you get up," he reasoned.
"I didn't," reinforced Hermione, and then conceded, "Physically, that is…"
"Then where did this come from?"
Hermione was still rubbing her knees as if it would smooth out where the stones had left impressions. "When I knelt next to Snape in the dungeons."
Absentmindedly, Remus crushed the gravel between his fingers. "I think we should tell Dumbledore."
A blank gray ceiling was all he could see as he felt another object collide with his back. The massive Death Eater was dragging him along the ground as if he had a handle and four wheels. Which he didn't, of course, but it would have been handy at the moment. Soon though his vision went briefly to black as he soon recognized the ever popular interrogation room. It went blindingly bright as a light flared to life. He was shoved into a cold, metal chair that quickly bound him to it with tight restraints.
With a quick snap of fingers, his face collided with the equally chilly and quite metallic table and a fresh onslaught of blood poured from his nose. You'd think I would have run out of blood by now and wouldn't bleed so… he thought sardonically.
"Snape," said a colorless voice, emerging from the shadows, "what am I to do with you?"
"Let me go," he said, grinning enough to show his red-rimmed mouth.
His request did not get a reply instead Voldemort came in closer to him. "It seems you've been trained too well. Torture hasn't yielded me any answers," another snap of the fingers, another blow to the face, "Prewett here says your constant ramblings don't count, and you've taken so many concoctions that serums aren't effective until it's in high dosages." Closer to Snape's face, he said, "Can't have you ODing on me, I need what's up here," Voldemort tapped his head, "I need her location."
Sniffing as if to steam the flow, Snape said, "Even if I were to tell you, you still can't find her. Sorry, only a Secret Keeper can. Too bad Pete can't do it twice, eh?"
In response, Voldemort roughly grasped Snape's face. "There's something up here, Severus," he pressed a long white finger hard against Snape's temple, "and every bit of information I extract from you will lead me closer to the Mudblood."
A quick flick and another chair appeared in the room. Voldemort pulled it up next to him and sat down. Stroking the side of his face, he looked Snape over before saying, "How's your Occlumency these days?"
Immediately, Snape mentally started to shut him out, closing his eyes. "Legilimens," was shouted. He was too weak; the torture had been going on for too long. The walls were crumbling as Voldemort grasped his face, forcing his eyes open to look at him. No…no… He struggled back, but eventually images began rapidly unfolding in his mind.
His mother standing over a cauldron, beckoning to him. He did not go as he caught sight of his angry father behind her. It was the day before his eighth birthday.
Hogwarts and his first sight of Lily Evans. How he thought she radiated. Another flash as Lucius Malfoy told him that she was another dirty Mudblood. He watched her sit by James Potter. She smiled as something another Gryffindor said causing her face to light up.
The Shrieking Shack. He had finally caught Sirius. He was his for the taking, after all Sirius had done to him, it was time for payback, but then Potter turned his wand on him and all went black.
He was back in her hidden room. Grasping her still form, he placed a Disillusion charm on her before carrying her out the door. Quickly, he made his way to an Apparation-safe room then turned out of sight as people rushed down the hall, yelling.
Dumbledore motioned him to his office, handing him a sheet of paper… No, he couldn't see this. He couldn't… Dumbledore disappeared and he made his way to the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey needed to know where she was and Dumbledore had received urgent news. Snape had to give her the address. He looked down at the paper, the loopy handwriting… And at the same time tried to look away… Lupin Lea, 1101 Kingsdown Road… He gave it to her and watched as she nodded then stuck it in a drawer…
His breathing was heavy as he emerged. How he hated the look of smug triumph that graced the other's pale features. "Just because you know, doesn't mean you can find her. You could have your face pressed against the glass and never know."
The haughty look never wavered as he muttered 'Wormtail' and pressed a finger to Snape's exposed Dark Mark. He let out a hiss of pain. Portly and mousy as ever, Pettigrew appeared at his master's side. Never breaking his gaze on Snape, he said, "Wormtail, I have a job that requires your rat-like abilities."
"Yes, sire anything. What is your c-c-command?" He bowed deeply, ignoring Snape.
"Get into Hogwarts, search the Hospital Wing and anything of Poppy Pomfrey, and bring me back everything that has 'Lupin Lea, 1101 Kingsdown Road' written on it."
"Will do, my lord." He bowed deeply again, repeatedly.
"Now," uttered Voldemort lowly, causing Wormtail to jump and Disapparate. He pointed to Severus. "Take him back to his cell and give him something to drink. He looks worn out."
The Death Eater nodded and once again grabbed Snape roughly by the collar while the restraints fell away. This time the trip went much faster as the torches flickered rapidly past him and the now familiar gaping hole of his prison chamber soon loomed in front him as he was thrown back inside. "What about that drink?" asked Snape before the door was shut on him. "I prefer Scotch on the rocks, if that's not too much to ask."
A snarl of annoyance was his only answer, but the door remained open as the Death Eater bowed out of the doorway. Oh great, he's back. He stood up slowly as Voldemort sauntered inside, holding two very different things in his hands. One actually held a glass. As Snape took it from the other, it filled with a clear liquid. Thinking it water, he took a giant swing. He coughed as it burned. The bastard had given him vodka. Voldemort laughed as he slapped the glass from the other's hand and replaced it with the milky white sphere. "No one said you'd get to pick your preferred poison."
Doubled over, Snape looked at the orb in his hands. It held the very information that had damned him. The prophecy. "A little something for you," said Voldemort in a hiss, "since you broke it the last time you handled it. They aren't the easiest things to repair."
He pressed a button on the side. A flickering image emerged, blinking until it finally came to life. Megan Hollowell opened her mouth and stuttered the first few words before finishing her sentence to only skip back to where she had started. "It only does that one part, over and over and over. I thought you'd enjoy some company."
Putting a hand to Snape's chest, he pushed the already swaying man to the ground then swept out with his crony in step. He stayed sprawled out on his back as the words filled the silent space. Each one, as it was hauntingly repeated, burned deeper and deeper into his head until he was able to mouth along with her. Every time it came to a certain phrase, he muttered one word a little louder. Again and again and again. How could he have been so stupid? In that one moment, as he had scrawled out what she had said, his ears had betrayed him, his pen had slipped.
He had been wrong.
It was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
The soft scratch of tiny nails followed him as he walked down the hall, but he never noticed. Dumbledore said the password and entered his office without incident, paying no heed to the beady eyes watching him. He sat down at his office desk, opened a plain folder, and quickly began scrawling on a sheet of paper. Pausing, he seemed to be reading something new on it before writing intently again.
In a silent poof, the furry deviant disappeared; satisfied with the knowledge it had gained. His primary obstacle was preoccupied and his task was made that much simpler. A high pitch squeak was all he could muster for an evil laugh.
Reappearing in a different room, he scurried between the multitudes of white linen draped beds to a side door. Squeezing underneath the door's gap, his black eyes reflected the image of an empty office. With a slight pop, a man, not a rat, stood in Hogwart's Hospital Wing as he began ripping open drawers with disabandonment. Papers soon littered floor as he made quick work of the desk.
He gave an animalistic snarl as he emerged from the pile empty handed. Looking around the room, he spied a fireplace. It had been recently used as a disposal with charred remains of parchment poking out of it. Taking a few crisp slips out, he read only Lupi on one as the rest ended in a blackened curl. Briefly thinking, he tapped the remnant with his wand. A gray swirl of ash spun from between the logs as it attached itself to reform a complete strip of paper.
Lupin Lea, 1101 Kingsdown Road
Wormtail grinned while he stuffed it into his inside cloak pocket. The smirk was soon wiped from his face though as the lock jiggled and someone began to enter the room. Whoever it was seemed to be having a difficult time with the lock. A speedy turn, a quick swish and he became a rat once more with the room back in order. Disappearing down a mouse hole, he barely heard the door thud open and the click of rapid moving heels toward his exit.
At the moment, he really didn't care. He had gotten what he had come for. All he needed to do was Apparate back to Master and present the information. Maybe he would finally get the credit he had long deserved, perhaps a reward to go with it. A captured Mudblood of his own would do nicely. Preferably the one he had wanted before, but Severus had stopped him short. Doubt he'll be alive to do that again, he chuckled inwardly, speeding down the dark tunnel.
"Ron, what are you looking for?" asked Harry, glancing up as the other poured over a worn piece of parchment.
His eyes never left the sheet as he answered tersely, "You know what."
"Don't tell me you're looking for her again." He put down his Transfiguration book to stare at Ron who was avoiding his gaze now. After not getting an answer, he got up to sit next to him and see if he could wrestle away the Marauder's Map from his obsessive eyes.
Ron scooted the Map away from Harry as the other's hand reached over for it. "You don't know, Harry. She could be back at any moment. I'd like to know the instant that is."
"You know she's not; she tells us every time we get something from her, alright? If she did, don't you think we'd be the first to know about it?"
"Well maybe if you seemed to care a bit more, you'd understand." Seeing the instant hurt in the other's eyes, he relented, "I was nearly finished, anyway."
"Here, Ron," Harry said softly as he began to turn the pages inward. "I care just as much as you, but I-" He paused.
"But what?" asked Ron.
Harry continued to stare wide eyed at the upper corner. "It can't be." His finger traced a swiftly moving dot in the Hospital Wing, and then abruptly brought the map under his nose for scrutiny. "It's him!" he yelled, causing many heads in the room to turn. He shoved it toward Ron, pointing.
"Wormtail," said Ron with equal astonishment, matching Harry's volume. "We've got to tell Dumbledore. What the hell is he doing in the castle?"
They stood up, knocking over the table, and dashed out the portrait hole as the rest of the Gryffindors sat bewildered.
"What do you mean the writing just stopped?"
"He was in mid-sentence and it trailed off. I don't – no wait – he's back. He's very sorry about cutting this short, but there has been an urgent development that has happened at the castle. An alleged sighting. He will get back in touch ASAP to continue and with news."
"A sighting? What sort of sighting?" asked Hermione, leaning over to get a better look at the paper.
"He…doesn't say, but if it was something to be worried about I'm sure he'd tell us." Remus studied the paper a bit longer before flipping the folder closed and looking at her who was nodding absentmindedly in agreement. "Are you feeling any better about those dreams?"
"You mean, do I feel any less crazy now?" She gave him a knowing look. "I guess so. I know what Harry's been going through all these years now. It really does bite seeing things no one else can." Hermione started pushing herself up out of the chair. Seeing some difficulty, Remus helped her up. Her hand did not leave his. He couldn't help but smile a bit at it. Remus took it as a sign that she had forgiven his unbelief and he breathed easier knowing he wouldn't have to bear the Granger stare for awhile.
"It's a nice day outside," he observed, looking out on the brightly lit back yard.
"What are we standing in here for?" asked Hermione as she pulled him out the door, grinning. As the sunshine poured down from the sky, she let it wash away the darkness from the other night. She took a slow seat on a stone bench and with Remus' protective arm around her back and her head resting on his shoulder; she felt that none of the world's troubles could touch her. A dark cloud passing over the sky prophesized otherwise.
The leering face in the door slot blocked the hall's light. A voice, labored by heavy breathing, floated from the pointed face, "Who is the incompetent one now, Severus?" A slip of parchment was waved tauntingly. "Who is powerless now? The Dark Lord is going to reclaim what is rightfully his and this time you won't be able to stand in his way."
"Cut the evil banter, Wormtail. You were never any good at it. So, you're finally able to curry favor with Voldemort without having to lose an appendage. Well done." Snape gave a weak clap. "Bravo. Now will you please remove yourself from my cell? It's beginning to smell worse in here."
"Your time is running short, Severus. It's possible it could be extended if you could keep that mouth of yours shut." And then the slot banged shut.
"Wouldn't dream of it!" he yelled back. The realization began crashing around his sarcastic façade. They now had the location of Hermione, written out in Dumbledore's, their Secret Keeper's, handwriting. It was only a short matter of time before their attack plan was finalized and they struck. He had to get out here, they had to be warned.
Snape stared down at the pale sphere next to him. He had to be told. It had to be set right. Silently, he clutched the orb to him, the words still easily heard though it was silent. Everything was up to Snape. How terribly anticlimactic of me having to be the hero, he thought sardonically. With everything falling apart, at least he still had his humor. He had to get up and make an attempt to escape, but his arms and legs just wouldn't cooperate until finally he felt he had no strength left to even think.
He realized he had been nodding off when his eyes snapped wide awake to the sound of his heavy cell door creaking open. The shadowed figure quickly entered, closing the entrance behind him. Roughly, he grabbed up Snape and began moving him out. The globe inside Snape's upper pocket banged against his chest as he was pulled forward.
"What the hell is going on?" he hissed out.
"I've found my other door and I'm taking it," the hooded man answered cryptically.
"Avery?" said Snape, astonished.
"Yeah, I'm getting out of this business. Your freedom in exchange for Order protection for my family. A fair deal, no?" He continued pulling Snape.
Snape dug in his heels. "Wait a minute. What's the catch here?"
"Keep your bloody voice down. There's no catch." They paused at the dungeon's exit with Avery checking the hall for the all clear. "I've been given a recent assignment I can't go through with." Another pause, followed by an obscenity, "I forgot to Disillusion you."
Soon Snape found himself quite transparent as they continued to climb out of the dungeons. "And what assignment was that?"
"The Dark Lord told me to kill my granddaughter. She's been labeled a Squib. I couldn't do. She's only five for Merlin's sake, plenty of time for magical activity to still happen." He gave Snape a steady look. "I've been looking for a way out and this is going to work. That little Seer said it would. She's been right about everything else."
Snape was silent. He hadn't the faintest idea what Avery was mumbling about now. Something about prophecies and how that mumbo-jumbo was turning out to be more real then he had ever expected. They were nearly to the point where Apparation could be achieved when they passed a room lit by one candle, splashing a small halo of light on a multitude of papers. Voldemort's stash of Dark books, sort of like an evil library. Even material written by his own hand. He pulled on Avery's arm to stop his procession down the hall.
"What is it, Snape? We don't have time for this. Anybody could find you missing at any time! The guards' rounds are soon to change." He looked panicked down the still deserted corridor.
"It'll only take a second." He limped in the room and grasped a handful of handwritten pieces of parchment paper, all clearly inscribed in Voldemort's scrawl. A faint triumphant smile played underneath Snape's hooked nose as he stuffed the goods into one of his pockets.
His smug expression didn't waver as he said simply, "Two can play at this game."