Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 18
The room felt strangely empty when Hermione turned back to the table and sat down again, noting the sadness in the eyes of the old man who sat opposite.
"Does it always feel like you're sending him to his death?" she asked quietly.
Dumbledore looked up with tired eyes and nodded. "I cannot count the number of times I've wish I didn't have to ask this of him any longer," he said with a sigh, "but it is a fool's hope. What life would he have if he failed to answer a summons? He would be branded a traitor, marked for death, and be forced to remain at Hogwarts for the rest of his life."
"He'd survive," Hermione commented, but the Headmaster shook his head.
"He told me once he'd rather die than have to live the rest of his life on another's terms. He said there's no such thing as partial freedom. You're either free, or not. He should know," he finished sadly. "It is I who have chained him these past twenty years."
"Chained him?" Hermione said incredulously. "You've given him the chance to win his freedom. Without your help, he would either be dead or in Azkaban."
"Yes," Dumbledore said heavily, "but perhaps the price I ask for his freedom is too high. After all, what is freedom if obtaining it means your death? His toils will all be for naught if his true loyalties are discovered before this war is over."
Hermione swallowed, hoping it would never come to that. "Do you think Voldemort will be angry after what happened tonight?"
"He will," Dumbledore confirmed, and Hermione drew in a breath.
"But," the Headmaster continued, "from what Severus has told me, Lucius Malfoy was acting outside of orders as well. Voldemort will remember that, and likely punish them both equally."
Hermione thought back to the last time Voldemort had 'punished' Snape, and her concern for the Potions master must have shown on her face.
"Do not worry about Severus, Miss Granger," Dumbledore added. "Voldemort is intent on obtaining a full batch of the Cruciatus potion. He will not hurt Severus so much that he cannot prepare it. Voldemort knows his Potions master needs steady hands."
It wasn't a particularly comforting thought, but it did make Hermione feel slightly less worried for Snape. Those worries were replaced at the forefront of her mind with thoughts of other matters.
"Now, to the matter at hand," said Dumbledore, anticipating the change in her train of thought. "What is to become of your parents."
"They can't return home, can they?" Hermione said softly, knowing the answer even as she spoke the question.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Upon your disappearance from your home, the Death Eaters took out their frustrations on the house itself. I'm afraid there is little that will be salvageable."
Hermione bowed her head, not trusting her voice to respond. Having lived away from her family for the better part of seven years, she wasn't as attached to their house as she might have been, but she knew her parents would be devastated. Despite what her mother said earlier that night, about family turning a house into a home, all the memories, all the records of their life together as a family, were in the house; photographs, books, those little knick-knacks that one would never throw away because they had some sentimental value. All they had left were the clothes on their backs and...
"Crookshanks!" Hermione gasped, the tears in her eyes suddenly spilling over. Her parents' new owl, Mercury, had been out hunting at the time of the attack, and she would undoubtedly find her owners as soon as they left the Unplottable house. In the terror of fleeing from the Death Eaters, though, her part-Kneazle had been forgotten.
"It's all right, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I believe he was discovered by the Order member I sent to observe the Muggle authorities. He's quite safe, though he was more than a little reluctant to be sent back to Hogwarts without you."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The ginger cat had been a part of her life for five years, and she couldn't imagine going to sleep at night without him lying across her feet at the end of the bed.
The conversation turned back to the fate of her parents.
"Where will they go?" she asked. "This has happened before, hasn't it? You have some sort of plan?"
Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin. "I do not have a plan, as such, however I believe you have relatives in France, do you not?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, my aunt and her family. We visited them a few years ago over the summer." She paused. "Wait, you want to send my parents to France?"
"I believe it would be best for all concerned if they are outside the country. This was not a random attack, Miss Granger. Certain Death Eaters may be so enraged by your escape that they would make another attempt on your lives. There is little Death Eater activity in southern Europe, however," he continued. "I think it would be the safest place for your parents at this time."
"What about their jobs?" she asked, standing up to pace the length of the room. "They still have to earn a living. They run a practice; they have patients. They can't just up and leave!"
"Even if staying would cost them their lives?"
Hermione abruptly stopped pacing at the remark. She sighed, and sat down heavily on the wooden bench again.
"You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't some 'what if' scenario anymore; we're actually talking in terms of people's lives."
The Headmaster simply said, "It's easy to underestimate the impact of one's actions, if the consequences are not immediately apparent."
Shaking off the feeling that the Headmaster was, once again, talking in double meanings, she asked, "When will they have to leave?"
"Tonight," the Headmaster replied. "Or should I say, this morning. A member of the Order will be here shortly to escort them to a safe house in London. From there they can contact your relatives and make any necessary arrangements, before leaving for France in a few days."
"Will I be able to go with them, for those few days?" she asked. She'd spent nearly a week at home and thought she'd be sick of the Muggle world by now, but after last night she felt compelled to spend more time with her parents, if only to try to make amends for something she would always blame herself for.
"I think it would be best if you returned to Hogwarts today, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said carefully. "I understand you want to spend time with your family, but I feel it would not be in the interests of your safety, nor theirs, for you to all stay in the one location."
"Oh," Hermione said quietly. She didn't see what difference another day or two with her family would make if they were in a safe house, but she knew better than to question Dumbledore's decision. "I suppose they should be told what's happening, though they're not going to like it. Shall I go and wake them, if they managed to sleep, that is?"
"Please, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "Bring them into the sitting room and I shall endeavour to explain everything."
As Hermione tramped up the stairs to the guest bedroom, she couldn't help but feel, yet again, like a chess piece being moved back and forth across the board by the gnarled white hand of the Headmaster.
Taking a moment to clear his mind, Severus Snape close his eyes, touched his wand to the Dark Mark that was now burning incessantly on his arm, and Apparated to the Dark Lord's location.
As he bowed his head and dropped to one knee in the expected prostration of servitude, he tried to assess his surroundings. He was outside, in a clearing surrounded with thick undergrowth and tall trees. There were two figures standing at the Dark Lord's side; the smug, poised form of Lucius Malfoy, and the snivelling, cowering shape of Peter Pettigrew. The latter was a constant presence at the Dark Lord's side, and his nervous laughter at inopportune moments left Snape itching to hex the repulsive creature into oblivion.
"Severus, how good of you to join us." The high, cold voice of his former master sent an involuntary chill down Severus' spine, and he mentally prepared himself to meet the Dark Lord's eyes.
"I apologise for keeping you waiting, my Lord," he murmured, not yet rising from his kneeling position. "The old fool was most distressed by the events of the past evening, and insisted upon my presence to deal with the girl and her parents."
"The parents who are supposed to be dead?" Malfoy spat.
"Silence, Lucius," the Dark Lord warned. "You also disobeyed my specific orders. Severus shall have the same opportunity to explain himself as I gave you."
Malfoy glared at Snape, saying nothing. Looking more closely, Snape noticed a sheen of sweat across the blonde's forehead, and a slightly dishevelled look about his person. The Dark Lord must have already punished Malfoy for his own disobedience last night.
"Speak, Severus," the Dark Lord continued, "but be warned. I do not take kindly to my servants acting to further their own agendas."
Pettigrew watched the confrontation, eyes wide with anticipation. The snivelling coward liked nothing more than a duel, as long as he wasn't involved. Severus took a deep breath and sent a silent message to whoever might be listening that the Dark Lord would accept his explanation.
Meeting the Dark Lord's eyes, he felt a prickling at the edges of his consciousness as his master entered his mind, and he began to speak, commending Lucius on his idea to use the Granger girl to gain information from Potter. He explained that the same idea had crossed his own mind when Dumbledore had first forced her assistance upon him.
"Why did you not speak of this earlier?" the Dark Lord hissed.
"Forgive me, my Lord," Snape said. "I was unsure whether I would be able to use her for information. I did not want offer such an idea to you until I was absolutely sure I would be able to gain her trust."
Malfoy scoffed, but the Dark Lord seemed to accept his explanation, and nodded for him to continue.
"I have made much progress lately," he continued, allowing images of their work together to float through his mind. He felt the Dark Lord sifting through the images, searching for anything amiss. He allowed a sneer onto his face as he said, "She thinks she has befriended me, that I consider her to be an equal."
Pettigrew snorted with laughter.
"I have humoured her, and given her no reason to suspect my loyalties lie anywhere but with Dumbledore. I have every reason to believe she trusts me completely. If last night's events proceeded as Lucius had planned, I believe it the loss of her parents would have been permanently detrimental to our relationship."
"That's rubbish," scorned Lucius. "She would have been grateful to you for saving her life."
"And blamed me for arriving too late to save her parents," Snape countered. "Now, she believes I have risked my own life to save her family, and as a result, her trust in me is unshakeable."
Hating himself for having to reveal it, he allowed the Dark Lord to glimpse the look of gratitude on Hermione's face as she embraced him in the dim hallway of his house, to hear her sigh of contentment as she leant into him for warmth and comfort in front of the fireplace.
There was silence, and Snape continued to feel the prickling sensation of the Dark Lord rummaging through his mind. He allowed random images to come to the forefront of his consciousness, as well as selective images of Hermione; brewing potions, eagerly perusing his bookshelf, taking his hand as he recounted the effects of the Cruciatus potion, her look of terror as he explained the plan to kill her parents.
After some time, Snape felt the Dark Lord withdraw from his mind, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His Occlumency shields were intact and the Dark Lord seemed none the wiser that he hadn't had full access to his servant's mind.
"Rise, Severus," the red-eyed man hissed. "You have done well."
Wormtail looked disappointed and Malfoy made a noise of disbelief as Snape climbed to his feet, brushing the dirt from the knees of his robes.
"Patience, Lucius," the Dark Lord said, and turned back to Severus. "Keep the girl close; report anything she tells you of Potter."
"Yes, my Lord."
"I trust the potion will still be ready as planned?"
Snape hesitated. He still hadn't been informed what the Dark Lord planned to do with the potion, and he needed to stall for time until he gained at least some idea of what its use would be. He couldn't hand the Dark Lord such a weapon without giving due warning to the Order.
"Forgive me, my Lord," he said regretfully. "Your summons last night interrupted one of the crucial stages in the potion's development." Snape saw the Dark Lord frown and reach into his robes for his wand, and hurriedly continued. "I would not have left the brew, but for your specific request for my presence at the raid. Stasis charms are ineffective on the potion, so I'm afraid I will have to start a new batch. It will take a full week to complete."
The Dark Lord did withdraw a wand from his robes, but Snape was surprised to see it was his own - the one he'd been relieved of during his exchange with Malfoy at the Granger house.
"Very well," the Dark Lord said after a tense moment of deliberation. "Be sure you do not delay my plans any longer."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Now," he continued, "there is another matter to be dealt with. Severus, your actions tonight have served to further our cause, however," Snape's blood went cold as Wormtail sniggered excitedly, "in doing so, you caused harm to your fellow Death Eaters."
Snape dropped to one knee again, aware that Lucius had moved, though to where, he couldn't see. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said quietly, bowing his head.
"You have my approval, Severus," the Dark Lord assured him, "but I feel it is only fair to allow Lucius his retribution."
Snape looked up to see the Dark Lord nod over his shoulder, and a moment later a heavy boot between his shoulder blades sent him sprawling flat on his stomach in the dirt.
Moving to defend himself, he rolled onto his back and withdrew his wand, only to have it torn from his fingers by the Dark Lord's Expelliarmus.
"This is a punishment, Severus, not a duel, and you will take it as such," the Dark Lord hissed, tossing both of Snape's wands to Malfoy, who caught them and secreted them in a hidden pocket of his robes. "You may have those back when Lucius has finished with you."
Snape saw the Dark Lord move to the edge of the clearing, Pettigrew at his side, breathing quickly in anticipation of the punishment.
Against his better judgement, Snape remained on his back in the dirt. Years of both watching and participating in such punishments had taught him it would be over more quickly if he took what was coming to him without question.
Standing over him, Lucius made to withdraw his wand from its sheath in his cane, but was stopped by the Dark Lord's voice.
"I need his hands to be steady to complete my potion," Snape heard the Dark Lord say. "I trust you have no qualms about resorting to Muggle forms of punishment, Lucius?"
"None at all, my Lord," Lucius smirked, turning back to his fellow Death Eater on the ground.
"Now," he said softly, so none but Snape could hear him. "Where to I start?"
Snape eyed his so-called friend defiantly, and was rewarded with a hard kick to his ribs. His only sound was a sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain, and his eyes closed momentarily.
"That," Lucius hissed, "was for making a mockery of me in front of our Lord."
"I don't need to make a mockery of you, Lucius," Snape sneered. "Your rashness does that alone. If you'd considered the plan beyond it's potential for bloodshed, you would have seen its flaws as I did."
"On your knees," Lucius snarled.
Snape complied, and was no sooner kneeling than he was knocked sideways, the handle of Lucius' cane meeting the side of his face with a dull crack.
"That was for spoiling my fun with the Mudblood bitch," he spat, as Snape struggled back to a kneeling position, his head spinning.
The older man stepped closer to him, grasping his hair and yanking it back, forcing Snape to meet his gaze.
"Our Lord may have believed your little story, Severus," he whispered, "but I sense something amiss."
"Oh, but why don't you tell him so, Lucius?" Snape sneered up at the blonde. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear your explanation."
With a growl, Lucius released Snape's hair, and another well-placed kick sent him sprawling onto his back again. In the next instant he found himself pinned to the ground, the heavy sole of Malfoy's boot hovering above his windpipe.
"I don't know what you're playing at, Severus," he hissed, lowering his foot just enough so breathing became uncomfortable for Snape. He resisted the urge to claw at the restrictive boot, choosing instead to clench his hands at his sides and remain still.
"But remember this," Malfoy continued slowly, exerting more pressure downwards.
"You were lucky this time." More pressure, and Snape found he couldn't draw a breath.
"Next time I will have my way," he whispered, leaning down as he crushed Snape's throat even further. "You and the Mudblood will both pay."
Abandoning all pretence, Snape brought his hands up to clawed at the boot restricting his airflow. The blonde man only laughed, and Snape's struggles became desperate as he began to feel light-headed.
His gaze locked with the other man's pale eyes, but he found he could no longer focus.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard the high, cold voice of the Dark Lord demand, "Enough."
But with one final, futile gasp for air, he succumbed to oblivion.
Snape awoke, some time later, wondering why he had fallen asleep somewhere so cold and uncomfortable.
He swallowed dryly, and the pain in his throat immediately brought him back to the clearing, now empty but for himself and his two wands, lying nearby.
Rolling over, he coughed, and then groaned as a fresh wave of pain stabbed through his chest. Damn Lucius, he cursed, climbing first to his knees, then hesitantly testing out his feet. They seemed steady enough, and the clearing only spun momentarily as he regained his balance.
He supposed he should be thankful to be alive, given the circumstances, but the pounding headache in side of his skull seemed to make thinking objectively out of the question.
Picking up his wands, he tucked the spare inside a pocket of his robes and considered whether he was up to Apparating. Deciding to chance it, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the gates of Hogwarts.
The attempt was a success, but also seemed to increase the pain in his head by ten-fold. He made his way slowly up the path to the castle and reached the main doors just as light was starting to peek over the distant, eastern horizon.
Thankful that Dumbledore had asked him to wait to report any new information until the Order meeting that afternoon, he headed straight for his rooms. Pulling off his heavy robes as soon as he closed the door, he eyed the cupboard at the end of the row of bookshelves in his sitting room, hesitating only a moment before pulling the out a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky. It wasn't Ogden's, but a cheap variation he'd confiscated from a student the previous year. After the previous night, he deserved a drink.
Staggering over to the couch, he collapsed tiredly along its length, kicking off his boots and socks before taking a swig of the amber liquid straight from the bottle.
It burnt all the way down, and he wondered at the wisdom of drinking such harsh liquor when his throat was still hurting from Lucius' retribution.
He took another mouthful, hoping the alcohol would eventually numb his throat... and the rest of his body along with it.
He'd never felt the need to turn to the bottle as a means to forget, but the past twelve hours certainly justified the action. In the space of a single night, he'd answered the call of the Dark Lord – twice, directly disobeyed the Dark Lord's order to save the lives of a student's Muggle parents, attacked his fellow Death Eaters to save said student, and very nearly lost his own life in the process. He'd also accepted thanks from and offered comfort to the student in a way entirely outside his projected persona's range of abilities, and, to top it all off, had caught himself thinking about said student in a manner most unbecoming of a teacher.
Yes, he thought. Half a bottle of Firewhisky at six in the morning is perfectly justifiable.
After another long swig from the bottle, he leant his pounding head back against the armrest of the sofa and closed his eyes, willing the strength of the cheap imitation Ogden's to carry him into oblivion once again.
To be continued
I've posted one more chapter on OWL tonight, before I'm off on my holiday tomorrow morning, so I thought I'd better update here, too.
Anyone who informed me of log-in issues on OWL should now be registered and ready to read, except Firewall - I don't have your email, so I can't help you. If you're still having trouble, use the contact link on OWL and Potion Mistress can assist you.
Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, both here and on OWL (and sometimes on both!). I love hearing your comments and speculation :)
