Severus walked back to his quarters at Hogwarts. It had been a long day, and he felt as if he could sleep for days.

He let out a groan as he spotted the strip of light that slid from under his door into the dark passageway. Fantastic. Dumbledore was waiting for him.

On some days, Severus was unbothered by the headmaster's ignorance of the basic idea of common courtesy. Most days it filled him with blistering irritation.

He pushed open the door, and did not respond to the cheery "Hello, Severus!" As expected, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, a dusty bottle of butterbeer in hand.

Without so much as glancing at the other man, he slung off his cloak, hung it on the hook by the door, and slid his wand up his sleeve. Then, he scoured the contents of a nearby cabinet, and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.

"What do you want, Albus?" He asked tiredly, dropping into the chair across from the older wizard.

"I wanted to check in." Came the friendly reply, as if they were two old friends who had been too busy to catch up, "It's been a while."

He could feel a migraine forming between his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Well, where should we start? With Miss Malfoy's recent promise to become a Death Eater, or with the Dark Lord's plan to break into Azkaban?"

The sharp intake of breath almost made him smile.

"He's invited Hermione to become a Death Eater? So soon?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I thought that perhaps he would wait until Hermione was older. Or even that she was more of a-"

"A what? A pet?" Severus made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "He only has one pet, and you've seen what he makes her do. She has been spared the Dark Mark for now. I think he intends to give it to her as a sort of coming of age present."

"I can't image Lucius and Narcissa are happy about this."

Severus took a drink, barely noticing the burn as it slid down his throat. "Well, Lucius has been affected, that's for sure." His friend had replaced eating with drinking. To the point where Snape had taken to carrying bottles of sobering potions with him whenever he felt the Dark Lord's call.

"And Narcissa?" Albus' eyes glittered intently in the light from the oil lamp.

"She was not pleased." He did not add that Lucius told him she threw a candlestick at his head, smashing the window behind him. There was a new ward against him entering their bedroom or her personal sitting room, so Lucius had been spending his nights in one of the guest bedrooms. He did not envy Lucius. Narcissa's temper was nothing to be trifled with. Perhaps he should give his friend a bezoar next time he saw him. Just in case.

"I imagine not." Albus sighed. "She hasn't been responding to my letters."

"She's probably decided that it's better not to be involved in your little schemes."

There was a sigh. "Everything I do is for the greater good, Severus. We knew this was going to happen," he took a deep breath, "but I had no idea it would be so soon-"

"Didn't you?" Snarled Snape. His eyes were full of repulsion. "You've been grooming her to be the perfect asset for the Dark Lord, Albus. Ever since you found out there was a muggleborn orphan who you could manipulate and mold into your ideal spy. I doubt you've even considered the damage it's done to her. Damage that won't be reversible."

"Severus," Dumbledore's blue eyes were full of shock, he looked saddened by the lack of faith in him, "You can't possibly believe that? Every measure has been taken to maintain her safety-"

"Like you maintained Potter's safety?" ice dripped from Snape's voice, and he picked imaginary lint from his robes. "The second you encouraged Lucius to introduce her to the Dark Lord you sealed her fate. As far as I'm concerned, all of the horrors she will be exposed to- that she will commit. Those are on your hands."

"It is my hope that she will be kept safe-"

"Then you are an ignorant old fool!" Snape scathed. He rose from his chair. "You have no idea what he is capable of-"

"Sit down Severus," the whisper was soft, "I, more than anyone, know what he is capable of. I also know Hermione. She will not fail us."

He sat down, breathing hard. He was not so certain that Dumbledore could possibly fathom what the Dark Lord was capable of. He had never been to the meetings, to the muggle-hunting parties. He had sat on his clean white throne high above, while Severus came home with blood dried on his robes and under his fingernails.

Dumbledore didn't hold back Lucius' hair while the man retched into a toilet and sobbed about his little girl. The night had left Severus feeling shaken. Lucius had always been cool and calculating. To see him in such a state was unnatural.

Nor had Dumbledore seen inside Potter's mind. He disliked the boy, but he dislike those muggles even more. It was worse that it didn't need to be that way. Any other family would have been thrilled to raise the boy who lived. And he was pretty certain that if Albus had tried harder, he might have found a decent muggle family to take him in.

"What about the Azkaban plan. Should we alert the Ministry?"

Dumbledore thought about this, peering into his bottle as if it held the answers. "No," he said slowly, "This may be the thing that finally brings them around. The world has to has to wake up sometime." He wearily got to his feet, "I hope you realize that I take no pleasure from this, Severus."

He knew that well enough. He could see the regret dripping from every pore of the older wizard. And yet he felt with every inch of his being, that the old fool's avarice prevented him from realizing that there may be other ways to win the war.

Ways that didn't involve ruining the lives of everyone he cared for.

"Everything I do," continued Dumbledore, "Is for the greater good."

He nodded, and stood. "Goodnight, Albus."

Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, and then smiled. "Good night, my boy. Sleep well."

Severus nodded, but now he was certain that he would not be able to sleep. All night long he would be seeing Lucius' desperate eyes, hearing his sobs. Thinking about the girl who should have been in his house.

He sat back down, pulling a stack of unexamined essays towards him. Then, with a scowl, he pulled out a quill. He almost felt a stab of pity for the Third Year Ravenclaws and their essays on antidotes. But as he slashed the first "T" across an essay he felt a calm settle over him. On most days he felt like a toy being tossed back and forth between two spoiled children. He was seldomly in charge of his own life, and there were days that he forgot which side he was on. What his personal beliefs actually were.

And then he came back here, to the slightly damp chambers that had been his home for the last fourteen years, and read the drivel some arrogant little toad tried to dress up in large words, and he knew exactly who he was.

He dipped his quill in a fresh bottle of red ink, sneered down his nose at the pile of parchment, and moved on to the next one.

Healer Nancy Pine followed the Auror through a twisting corridor in the heart of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her heels clicked reassuringly on the polished floor, and she tugged at the sleeves of her uniform.

"This your first time to Azkaban?" The Auror asked. He carried an unlit lantern in his hand, and it made an unpleasant squeak as he swung it.

Nancy held her head up high, "Yes." She had meant to sound calm and sure of herself, but her voice came out high and wavery. She suddenly wished that she had not allowed her mother to shear her hair off that weekend. At the time she had thought that the short, glossy cut had made her look older and more sophisticated.

Now she wished she had something to hide her face behind as she felt her face burn.

The Auror smiled kindly at her. "It's not as bad as they say. You'll have your patronus, and most of the prisoners will be delighted to see you. The one's that aren't-" he made a violent gesture with his wand, "I'll take care of right quick."

Comforted by his words, she returned his smile. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name-"

He snorted, as if that was somehow funny. "It's Rasper, Jim Rasper if you want the whole of it. Here we are!"

They had come to a little, plain door. Rasper placed his wand against the doorknob, and let out a low sigh as it sprang open with a popping noise.

Her eyes widened as the smell of seawater flooded her senses. In the middle of the tiny room was a pool. An ancient-looking rowboat bobbed in the water, looking as though it might capsize at any moment.

Sneaking a look at her, he grinned, "You didn't think we were walking to Azkaban, did you?"

"No." She thought they would use the Floo Network. But now, as she thought about it, she realized how silly that idea was.

There was a lot of splashing as the two clambered into the rickety vessel. The wood was mildewed and slippery, and she clutched the sides in fear of falling as she took a seat on one of the two wooden slats. A single oar lay on the bottom of the boat.

As soon as she was seated Rasper handed her the lantern.

"Better that you hold on to this," he murmured, retrieving a box of matches from his pocket and bending to light the wick. The flame caught instantly, and burned red. It cast an eerie, sinister light around them.

He stooped to pick up the oar, and sighed as he straightened. "You might want to brace yourself, Healer." Then, gripping the oar firmly with both hands, he thrust it into the water.

She opened her mouth to ask why, but was cut off as the boat gave a lurch, and began to spin. Water sprung up on either side of them, whirling up in a great arc over their heads, until she could see nothing but seawater.

Not that she would want to. The boat was spinning so rapidly that it flung her against the side of the boat, and the had to grip with both hands to prevent herself from being flung overboard. The lantern she kept pinned between her stomach and the boat, praying that the jostling wouldn't knock it loose.

All the while, Rasper stood tall and steady with his hands on the oar. She had to admire his ability to stay upright, especially when a particularly hard wave pushed the boat up so that it looked like it was being pulled bow first out of the water.

Then the spinning slowed, and finally stopped. She slowly loosened her grip, and perched back on her seat.

When she had entered the Ministry some thirty minutes before, the noon sky had shone happily above. Now though, the clouds rolled black and ominous above them. She could make out the faint outline of the fortress through the soupy fog.

"Now would be the time to cast your Patronus, Healer Pine." Rasper called over his shoulder. There was an old, frayed rope tied around the stern, and he used this to fasten the oar in place. They were moving steadily forward, and Nancy figured that the oar was what helped them navigate the choppy waters.

Taking the lantern from her, he held it high over his head.

With the practice that had come from endless drills during her training, she cast the Patronus charm, and smiled as the shaggy pony blossomed from the tip of her wand and pranced in a graceful circle around the boat.

There was another flash of light, and a great, shaggy wolf sprang in front of the pony, running large circles around it.

The prison came into view slowly. It was a tall, black structure that seemed to rise straight out of the sea. Waves crashed against the sides, sending water sluicing up the rock and into the barred, glass-less windows.

Nancy pulled her cloak tighter around herself, like her uniform it was white, and bore the St. Mungo's name across the breast. It smelled faintly of vinegar, and somehow the scent gave her the courage to stay on course, rather than beg the Auror to take her back.

There was a small cavern near the base of the rock, and Rasper steered them into this. It turned out to be a sort of docking area, with a low ceiling and a set of stairs carved into the foundation. The red light from Rasper's lantern made the wet walls look as though they were dripping with blood. She was grateful for the swan patronus, who continued to swoop around them.

"Where are the… guards?" she whispered.

He steered the boat towards the dock, "They keep their distance when the Healers come."

Getting out of the boat was just as difficult a feat as getting in. And the slipperiness of the stairs made her feel that this task was deliberately made to break the spirit of those trying to enter the prison.

She was so grateful to be on solid ground, that she forgot for a moment where she was. Then a long, mournful cry pierced through her thoughts, setting her hair on end. It sounded like something between a moan and a scream. Inhuman. Her patronus pressed closer to her, offering some form of comfort.

"Come on, Healer. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave."

She found it odd that they did not run into another human guard as they did their rounds, but Auror Rasper seemed unconcerned. She found his presence comforting as she slid into the first cell.

The stench was unbelievable. A mix of unwashed body, dirty hair, mildew, and sickness. The person on the small bed was curled into a fetal position. Their skin was taut over their bones, and Nancy suppressed a shiver as the figure looked up and stared at her with wide, unfocused eyes.

"M-my name is Healer Pine," she said, trying to force cheerfulness back into her voice. Her patronus swept close to her, and she felt a slight warmth press against her side. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I'm here to give you your exam, do you mind standing up for me?"

The person nodded, and Nancy suddenly realized why she had been advised to only look for blatant signs of disease. There was no way anyone could live like this and be healthy.

"What's your name?" she asked, pulling her wand out to perform the diagnostic charms.

The figure stared without blinking. Then rasped, "Annie."

Nancy smiled, and reached to check Annie's pulse.

"Don't get any ideas about taking the Healer's wand, now," warned Rasper. He stood in the doorway with his wand aimed at the prisoner. Annie did not blink, or show any signs of hearing him. Nancy was willing to bet that even if she did attempt to the take the wand, it would take no more than a push to overpower her. Especially when Annie began to cough wretchedly.

"I think you've got the lung rot," said Nancy, setting her medical case on the floor, and opening it. Like all of the St. Mungos Healer bags, it was charmed to hold thousands of bottles, a store of potions, and the equipment to collect samples.

"Spit into this, please," ordered Nancy as she held a bottle with a teaspoon of clear liquid in the bottom.

Annie obliged, and the liquid smoked immediately, turning a dark orange. Nancy pulled it back and stoppered it, labelling it with Annie's name and prisoner id.

"We're going to run some tests to make sure that it's actually lung rot," she explained, "but in the meantime I'll give you a potion to ease the coughing. I'll leave instructions with the guards that you're to have that twice a day."

There was no response, but the green potion was downed instantly.

They were all like that. Nancy had never seen such a horrible collection of untreated illness in one place.

"I don't understand," she said after seeing a prisoner with skin that was grey and blistered with tiny pustules. "Healer Allan was here two months ago. Surely he prescribed something for that! It doesn't get that bad for months!"

"He probably did," Rasper rubbed his hands together for more warmth. His patronus wolf loped up and down the corridor, it's ears pricked. She was grateful that her own pony stood close by. "But that doesn't mean that the orders were actually carried out."

"But that's illegal!"

"That's Azkaban," he sighed. "It's part of-" he paused.

"Part of what?"

"Shh!" He held up his wand. "Do you hear that?"

She tensed, listening intently. At first, she could hear nothing. Then, as if it was coming from the bottom of a very deep well, she could hear it.

Cheering.

"Something's happened," he said. The look on his face was enough to make her heart stop beating for a moment. Slowly, he straightened. With a flick of his wand, his wolf sprang towards them.

"Go back to the Ministry," he ordered it. "Everyone to Azkaban, now!"

The wolf darted away in a flash of silver.

"Get back to the boat," he hissed. "Go now, don't look back."

"But what about you?" She shivered for reasons other than the cold.

He pulled himself up to his fullest height, and winked at her, "Don't worry about me. Get yourself to safety. Go, before they catch up to you!" He took off down the corridor, disappearing around a bend.

The cheering was growing louder now, picking up speed as the prisoners in the cells around them began to cheer as well. They pulled themselves to the steel doors, cheering through the barred window at the top, banging their cups and bowls on the door.

Her legs refused to run. They moved as if they were wooden, plunking along awkwardly as she hugged the walls of the corridor. She did not know where she was on the first floor, or how to get back to the boat, but she pressed forward.

Her patronus stayed near, it's silvery form growing dim as her fear grew stronger. She had been trained to sustain a patronus for hours, it was a requirement to be able to go to the prison.

There was a clatter of footsteps on the brick floor. Her heart leapt to her throat. If she couldn't find the boat then she needed to find a place to hide.

As if Merlin himself were listening, she found a dusty broom closet, and clambered inside, pushing herself behind a tangle of brooms. The pony stood in front of her.

The cheering grew louder, and louder, and she saw flashes of light beneath the door.

Someone was screaming. She hugged her knees to her chest and listened hard. Her heart thumped in her ears, making it difficult. Where were the Aurors? Had the wolf made it to the Ministry?

A tin bucket was jammed into her side, no doubt bruising her, but she barely felt it. Her wide eyes were fixed on the crack between the door and the floor.

BANG!

The door burst open, and a body fell in, crashing into the brooms. It landed on it's back, eyes unseeing and pointed towards her, mouth open in a silent scream. Nancy let out a whimper of fear. It was Rasper.

"Well, well, well." A raspy female voice said. "What do we have in here."

Nancy looked up from her spot, trembling with pure terror. The woman who stood before her was covered in grime, and had long, matted black hair. Her mouth was twisted in a horrifying grin.

The pony patronus flickered once. Twice. Then extinguished. Nancy felt as if she had been encased in ice. She was unable to move, unable to speak. Her wand was completely forgotten as she stared into the flashing eyes above her.

"I really should kill you," purred the woman, "it sends a good message. But, you haven't hurt me…" She twirled a dirty lock around her finger, and stared at Nancy. "Oh, come now. No tears."

Nancy couldn't stop them if she tried. They were rolling down her cheeks unchecked.

"Oh, I know!" The woman crept closer, propping one foot on Rasper's chest so that she could lean close to Nancy. "I'm going to make you my little pet." Her breath was foul. Nancy let out a sob, and shook her head.

"N-n-no!"

"It's a shame I didn't ask your opinion," cooed the woman. Her hand moved so quickly that Nancy had no time to react-

"Reformabit!" There was a flash of yellow light.

It felt like she was being squeezed on all sides. There was a sharp pulling sensation, and the woman grew taller, bigger. She was falling, and then everything was dark. Her heart thumped in her ribcage, and she felt her tail twitch to fight free of the material surrounding her.

Wait, tail?

Nancy tried to cry out for help, but all that came out was a squeak of surprise.

Then something clasped tightly around her middle, and she was being lifted.

"Well, this is a surprise," the soft voice sounded like a megaphone in her ears, "I expected a mouse, or maybe a dog. But this-" a grimy finger ran down her fuzzy nose, "I'm not entirely sure I know what you are…" A bright grin flashed across her face, "No matter. I like it. I think you'll suit me just fine."

For some reason, the words filled Nancy with panic. But for the life of her, she could not remember why.

"Now," Nancy felt herself being tucked into a pocket, and she burrowed into the darkness, so that only her ears were poking out, "let's go celebrate."

Hermione was at breakfast the next morning when a large owl swooped down and dropped the morning Prophet down on her plate of eggs.

The headline read "MASS BREAKOUT IN AZKABAN"

Hermione dropped her spoon, and scooped up the paper, unfolding it. Her stomach felt as if it were doing somersaults. All around her distressed cries went up. Harry and Ron were talking urgently, but she ignored them.

Her hands shook as she opened to a list of the escapees, and nearly dropped the paper.

Bellatrix was listed among the escaped, but her face was obscured by thick, red letters that read:

I hope you like your Christmas present.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! As always thank you so much for your reviews! I always enjoy reading them.