Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Now, you know the rules," Ron Weasley stated as he crossed his arms and leveled his twin brothers with a severe look. "This is-"

"- An unprescedented example of the Ministry's desperation," interrupted George as he leaned against a display table covered in Nose Biting Teacups.

"And as such," added Fred, "we are expected to be on our best behavior."

"No pranks," said George.

"No Weasley's Wizard Products," said Fred.

"And absolutely no 'Going Rogue'," they concluded together.

"Though," George said contemplatively, "we feel as if our creativity being stifled so severely will only end in disappointment."

"For example," Fred cut in as he moved closer, "we have this new product-"

"No!" Snapped Ron, jabbing a finger in their direction. "I don't care about what you've come up with, because it isn't authorized by the Ministry. Any use of unsanctioned magic will render this arrest invalid in front of the Wizengamot, and I will not risk this information on a bloody product pitch!"

"A bloody brilliant product pitch, if I may say so," George said with a wink.

With a heavy sigh, Ron turned to the door. "Let's get this over with."

The plan was straightforward; the three of them were to follow Harry's tracks through Knockturn Alley, search the alley in question, and follow any leads. With any luck, there would be enough to track down Dung. It sounded simple enough, but walking through Diagon Alley with his twin brothers was not the most inconspicuous thing he had ever done on the job. It seemed the twins were just as well-liked in their professional lives as they had once been as students. In order to not arouse suspicion, Fred and George paused to converse with everyone who greeted them- much to Ron's frustration. By the sixth said hold up, he started to lose his patience. By the eighth stop, he finally snapped.

"I'm sorry to interupt," he called out as he stepped in between his brothers and the shopkeep of Quality Quidditch Supplies. "As much as I would love to discuss the intricacies of various broom building techniques, we really must be going or we'll be late."

As the shopkeep and George made hasty goodbyes to each other, Ron headed off down the road with quick, agitated steps. He was soon joined by Fred, floating alongside him with a frown on his face. "I'm not apologizing," Ron snapped, glancing over. "We've wasted enough time on pleasantries. Can't you two turn off the charm for an hour or two?"

"Aw, you find us charming?" Ron turned his head to see that George had caught up to them. "Did you hear that, Fred? Ickle Ronnikins finds us charming!"

"About time, too," joked Fred. "I thought he'd never get over that teddy bear incident. Hey, do you remember the time we-"

"Hush, both of you!" Ron hissed, stopping abruptly and raising a hand. They had reached one of the entrances to Knockturn Alley.

The chill that always lingered over the decrepit shopping district blew back the hem of Ron's long coat, and an eerie silence stretched before them in the dimly lit alleyway. Glancing over each of his shoulders, he nodded to his brothers in turn and strode confidently forward.

As earlier agreed upon, Fred floated nearer the rooftops, his higher vantage point giving him a wider view of the area around them while also keeping him out of sight- one glance his way and they would be instantly identified. Ron and George each donned a low brimmed hat and raised the collars of their coats as they walked with purpose past the storefronts. They made no eye contact and ignored anyone calling out to them. The less friendly they looked, the less likely they'd be bothered.

Several times Ron had to stop and pull a paper out of his pocket, quickly scanning over the scrawl of his best friend as he deciphered his attempt at giving them directions. "If this says what I think it says," he said at last, squinting at the words before pointing down a particularly out-of-the-way alley, "That's what we're looking for."

George nodded. "Right, let's get this party started." Raising his wand, he cast a few notice-me-not and silencing charms around the area before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling sharply.

At the signal, Fred rejoined them. "See anything unusual?" asked Ron, and he shrugged.

"I got a decent view of the brothel, but the "unusual" stuff doesn't happen until nightfall. Maybe next time," he added, winking at his twin.

As George let out a hearty laugh, Ron rubbed his eyes. "Did you see anything helpful?" he clarified, and Fred shook his head.

"All quiet, boss. No obvious criminal sightings. Plenty of shifty behavior, but that's pretty par for the course around here."

"Right," Ron mumbled, unsure how he felt about that. On the one hand, a quiet Knockturn Alley was a blessing- but on the other, a more obvious lead would do wonders to speed things up. He gestured down the road. "I guess it's your turn to shine, you two. Get in there and tell me what you feel."

As the three of them huddled around the entrance to the alley, George reached out with his wand and muttered a few unfamiliar words. When nothing happened, he moved to the left and tried again. "Try over here," Fred said, pointing to a skewed brick on the right. "It could be one of his markers."

George nodded, walking over to his twin and touching the tip of his wand to the brick. The moment the foreign words left his mouth, the brick glowed a yellowish green, pulsed twice, and faded.

"What does it mean?" Ron asked, as the twins shared a knowing look. They didn't particularly look happy, but when they turned to him they both shrugged.

"It means Dung is no longer using this alley," explained Fred as George picked his way down to the partially open door Harry had described.

Ron frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means we won't find him here," called George from inside the room. "But it's okay- Dung never leaves his people in the dust."

At that, Ron's eyebrows rose. He and Fred moved quickly, joining George in the nearly empty room and looking around for whatever clue Dung had supposedly left behind. "Oh!" exclaimed Fred suddenly. "Bomb ward!"

"What?" Ron asked with a frown, glancing about. "What am I looking for? What's a bomb ward?"

"It's a special ward Dung created," Fred explained as George pulled out his wand. "He always leaves clues as to his next whereabouts when he abandons one."

"But the aurors checked for wards already."

George shook his head. "This ward would have already been triggered the moment they started to break the others."

"The bomb ward has two activations," continued Fred. "The first one alerts Dung that the location is compromised the moment someone starts to investigate the area, and the second reveals his calling card to those who know how to find it."

"Quite literally, in this case," interjected George as he summoned a soot-covered playing card from the hearth. The card flashed orange in his hand before disintegrating into ash.

"I still don't understand," said Ron.

"That playing card tells us we need to head to Bettor's Luck," George said as he dusted off his hands. "Someone there will know where he went."

"The betting shop run by Sam Wilkinson?" Ron had heard of the illicit gambling in Knockturn Alley, of course. It was popularly discussed in common rooms at Hogwarts and as an Auror he was more than aware of the many denizens the place attracted. In the past the ministry had been convinced to look the other way in regards to its dubious reputation; mysterious funding had a habit of blinding most politicians. So far, nothing had changed.

"That'd be the one," George said, heading towards the door. "It's not far from here, either. Shall we?"

Bettor's Luck was a small building, tucked away in the corner of a dead end and a right turn. The crumbling exterior and flickering lamp light gave the place an ominous aura, but the warm lighting and jovial conversations spilling out from the windows and under the warped wooden door suggested otherwise. George turned to Ron as they approached, and held him back with a hand to his shoulder.

"You might want to wait out here," he said. "An Auror isn't the most welcome around the gambling sort."

"You know I can't do that," he said firmly, and George shrugged.

"You're the boss. But let me lead."

"Fine, but remember our rules-"

"Yes, yes, I remember," George said dismissively with a wave of his hand. Turning back towards the gambling den, he pulled open the door and walked in. Ron followed closely behind.

The air in Bettor's Luck was thick and damp, the lights hazy from behind clouds of smoke. A bar stretched along the right hand side, patrons interspersed at random down its front. The rest of the room was made up of various tables, some covered in half played card games, others sticky with spilled drink. Not many wizards glanced up at the door as it opened, but those that did soon alerted their companions as to who, exactly, had just walked in. Several set down their cards, dice, or drinks and stood abruptly, walking quickly to the exit. "Oi!" shouted the barkeep. "You lot better pay yer tabs next time I see yeh!"

Ron turned to Fred and jerked his head meaningfully towards the door. "Follow them," he said quietly. "See if any of them look familiar." Fred nodded and disappeared through the front door, and Ron turned back around, scrutinizing the faces of those who stayed behind.

As George approached the bar, the barkeep glared over his shoulder at Ron. "What the bloody hell are yeh doin 'ere, Auror? Yeh done cost me half a night's profit!"

"And we apologize for that," George said, gaining the man's attention. "I told him to wait outside, but we have a bit of a situation on our hands."

"Aye? and what'd that be?" he asked, still glaring at Ron, who looked away in feigned disinterest.

George reached into his pocket and pulled out a few of galleons. Setting them on the bar, he explained, "We're looking for Dung Fletcher. Seems the Ministry has a bit of a proposition for him my brother and I think he'd be interested in."

The man's eyes focused on the coins shining in front of him, and he quickly reached a hand out and scooped them up. "What kind o' proposition?" he asked, looking over at Ron again with a wary glance.

"All I can say is that Dung has a lot to gain for going along with whatever they ask of him."

When the man remained silent, a patron halfway down the bar leaned back to address them. "How many more coins you got?" he asked George.

"How many gets that tongue waggin?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Depends on how much info you want."

"Oi!" the barkeep interrupted, pocketing the coins he still held in his grip. "I never said I wouldn't help."

"You never said you would, either," Ron interjected, and turned towards the other man. "How do I know I can trust you? What're your ties to Mundungus?"

The man stood from his stool, and Ron's eyebrows rose. He was easily two heads taller than him, and his heavy cloak couldn't quite cover the fact that he was heavily muscled as well. Ron had to take a step back just so he could see him better. The man paid no mind to that as he pulled a single playing card from his pocket and held it up. "I can answer both of those questions with one answer: I'm the Ace of Spades."

"You're the what?" asked Ron, confused. "How on earth does that answer my questions?"

George, on the other hand, grinned broadly. "The playing card from the fireplace was an Ace of Spades," he explained to Ron. Addressing the man again, he said, "So you're the ticket to finding him."

"I am," Ace agreed, pocketing the card once more. "But I warn you- that information will cost you."

"How much will it set me back by?" George asked, and as the man began to answer, Fred returned to Ron's side.

"No one I recognized," he reported back. "What'd I miss?"

"George is negotiating a price for the information," he said as he watched his brother barter with the stranger.

"That man is built like a handsome troll," Fred whispered to Ron, who snorted in agreement. After just a few minutes, they both watched George hand over another, larger, handful of coins and receive a small booklet in exchange.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Ace!" George said, saluting the man before turning around. "Third location's the charm," he said jovially as he joined his brothers and they took their leave of Bettor's Luck.

"The ministry will refund your money," Ron promised George as they walked down the street; his brother shrugged.

"There's no need for that," he replied, to Ron's surprise.

"Are you sure?"

Grinning, George answered, "Just do us a favor instead."

"You see," said Fred, "We have this new product-"

Ron barked out a laugh. "I'll see what I can do," he said with a smile.

George put his arm around Ron's shoulder. "That's the brother we know and love!"

Shrugging away from the embrace, Ron asked, "So where are we going?"

George held up the booklet. "Apparently this is a portkey. I just have to activate it when we're ready."

"I'm ready," said Fred. "Let's do this thing!"

"Yes," Ron agreed, gesturing them into a shadowed alcove. "I want to get this over with. Let's go."

George held the open booklet in one hand and his wand in the other. Ron grabbed the other end of the booklet, George tapped the pages, and with a tug on their navel, they were gone.

They landed in what looked to be an old factory town off the coast, lines of tiny weathered houses stretching out from either side. The portkey had brought them to the doorstep of number eight, the number plaque slightly off-kilter but otherwise in perfect condition. It contrasted the state of the door, with its peeling white paint and rusted letter slot. The street was quiet, but there was a distant sound of a ship's bell in the distance.

Fred and George looked at each other. "This is Dung, all right," said George. "I can feel his magic all over this place."

Ron stepped forward and knocked sharply on the door. And waited. And waited some more. Frowning at the door, he knocked again. "Mundungus Fletcher, this is Ron Weasley. I need to speak with you!"

"Dung knows you're with the Ministry now," said George. "I doubt he'll answer."

"He's probably climbing out a back window as we speak," agreed Fred.

Ron gritted his teeth. "We don't have time to find out." He reached for the doorknob, but as his hand met the metal, a burst of magical energy pulsed through him and he was thrown away from the door, landing in a heap on the sidewalk.

Ignoring his brother's peals of laughter, he picked himself up quickly and righted his jacket. "Damn it all, we don't have time for this!" he growled as he whipped out his wand.

"You're right," said Fred. "Give me a minute."

"Hey, wait-" Ron called after him, but it was too late- Fred flew straight through the door and into the house. Ron's mouth fell open. "He can go through wards?!"

"He tries not to brag about it," said George with a grin.

Less than a minute later a shout was heard from inside, and a sudden crescendo of footsteps ended as the door was thrown open, Mundungus fleeing from the home with Fred at his heels.

"Get away from me, get away from me!" he was shouting, waving his arms in front of him in a panic.

George leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms while Ron grabbed Dung's shoulder. "Calm down, Dung. He doesn't bite."

"What did you do to him?" Ron asked Fred, who grinned wickedly.

"That's our secret," he said with a wink to Mundungus.

Dung tried unsuccessfully to get out of Ron's grasp. "What the hell is this about?" he snapped, glaring at the three of them.

Ron raised his wand, and cuffs appeared on Dung's wrists. "Mundungus Fletcher," he said gravely, "you're under arrest."


Severus was halfway through a very interesting article about the effects of acromantula venom distilled in ammonia when his fireplace unexpectedly flared green. He looked up from his place on the couch, rolled his eyes at the sight of the Boy Wonder, and called out, "Hermione, come see to this pest problem on my hearth!"

"What?" Hermione called from the lab, before adding, "Don't bother answering, I'm on my way."

Before she left the lab, the fireplace flared green again and Minerva appeared before him. "Hurry up!" he called out again. "It's spreading."

"What are you talking about?" asked Minerva as she took her usual spot in the wingback chair.

The lab door closed and Hermione's hurried footsteps preceded her appearance in the doorway. "Will you stop shouting at me?" she chastized as she entered. "Come talk to me like a civilized per- Harry!"

Severus couldn't tell what made his stomach more sour- the fact that Hermione was currently embracing Potter as if he were a lifeline, or the fact that his first instinct in seeing such a thing was jealousy. He folded up his article and stood, tossing it onto his desk with more force than he had meant; the paper slipped between the desk and the wall and disappeared. Great. Perfect. Just bloody wonderful. "Will you two move so I can sit down?!" he snapped, gesturing to his desk chair.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look before pushing Potter towards the couch. "You were sitting down. No one asked you to move."

"I didn't want to separate the happy couple," he sneered as he collapsed in his seat. Ignoring Hermione's risen eyebrows, he turned to Minerva. "So what is it this time? Or are we still waiting on Kingsley?"

"The Minister won't be joining us today," she answered.

Potter spoke up. "It's why I'm here. I'm to give you the update instead."

"And I'm here," Minerva cut in as he opened his mouth, "to keep you in line."

"Oh for crying out-" When both Hermione and Minerva turned identical pointed stares his way, he rolled his eyes again. Gritting his teeth, he calmly asked, "What news, Potter?"

Potter cleared his throat. "In short, they found Dung." Sitting straighter, he continued, "And we struck up a plea bargain. The locations of all of his active and inactive hideouts and their access points since June, for a full wipe of his criminal history."

"Well that's good news," said Hermione, looking over her shoulder at Severus. He met her hopeful eyes and tilted his head in agreement.

"I assume he took it?" asked Minerva, and Potter nodded.

"Almost immediately. He gave up all the information as soon as the deal was official."

Severus asked, "And did anything come of this information?"

"I wouldn't have come here otherwise," he answered with a grin before turning back to Hermione. "They found them- Macnair, Dolohov, and Gurth. One of the hideouts paid off. Dolohov and Gurth are now in custody and awaiting trial."

At that, Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and Minerva let out a small puff of air. "And Macnair?" the younger woman asked, beating him to the question.

At that, Potter looked uncomfortable. Staring at the wall behind her he admitted, "He, er... managed to escape capture."

Severus covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Macnair is the worst of the three to still be out there." Crossing his arms, he frowned at the ceiling. "I guarantee the others were weighing him down. There's no saying what he'll do now."

"But hey," Hermione said, "this is still good news!" Picking his head up, he saw her look at each of them in turn before focusing on Potter. "That's two more dangerous Death Eaters locked away- for good, presumably. Let us focus on that."

"Well said," agreed Minerva, smiling at Hermione. "We should be focusing on the positives when we get the opportunity to."

"Well, as a Realist," Severus said scathingly, "I must remind you all that this doesn't exactly solve our predicament." Turning to the boy, he asked, "Where did the Ministry find them, anyway?"

"There's an old townhouse in London, belonging to the Yaxley family since the early 1920s. It-"

Eyes narrowing, Severus leaned forward. "The Yaxley Townhouse. The High Park Townhouse?"

"Yes, that's the one!" Harry nodded. "They were hiding out in-"

"Do shut up a moment Potter," he growled, standing and walking to the mantle.

He knew the High Park, knew it well. They all did. That's why Lucius Malfoy had listed it in his first report towards his own plea bargain. How had the ministry missed it, then? According to Kingsley, all the locations Lucius provided were thoroughly searched and placed under surveilance. Clearly that hadn't happened, or these men would have been discovered far sooner- and the Malfoys would have been released. His eyes narrowed at the suspicion he was now under: was the ministry purposely avoiding having to fulfill their end of the Malfoy plea bargain?

Minerva reached out and swatted his arm, breaking through his racing thoughts. "Don't be rude, Severus. He's just answering your questions."

Ignoring her, he turned and faced Potter once more. "And when your precious Ministry was pardoning the sewer rat," he seethed, "did any of you useless dunderheads recall the fact that you already had this information?" He needed to speak to Kingsley. Now. If the ministry was intentionally keeping the Malfoys in Azkaban, he would raise hell the likes of which they'd never seen.

Potter frowned, a line of confusion breaking up his furrowed brow. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that the Malfoys already gave you High Park as a potential hide-out!"

Infuriatingly, Potter scratched the back of his head. "Did they?"

"YES!" Striding forward, he grabbed the front of the boy's shirt and hauled him to his feet. From the corners of his eye he could see both Minerva and Hermione stand and flank him, wands drawn, and he shoved back from Potter, releasing him. "Lucius gave me that report himself, and I gave it to Kingsley. The Ministry knew about this place, and what- did nothing?"

Turning once more towards the mantle, he grabbed a handful of floo powder in a shaking fist. He hadn't been this upset since... he wasn't sure he'd been this angry in years. This had been his one chance to help Draco, to fulfill his promise to Narcissa, and he would be damned if he let this chance slip away! "The Minister's Office!" he snarled, tossing the floo powder into the fireplace.

When the powder merely fell to the hearth in a puff of dust, Minerva tsked. "Idiot," she muttered before waving her wand to clear the mess away. "Your floo is connected to my office and mine alone. And will you calm down? Kingsley is busy- he would be here otherwise."

His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his temples. Once again ignoring her, Severus turned to Potter. Hermione raised her wand defensively at the boy's side, and Severus glanced at her dismissively before snapping, "Go get him."

"I can't just-"

"That WASN'T A REQUEST!" he yelled, once again reaching out and grabbing the boy's shirt in an attempt to toss him into the fireplace himself. Wincing as a stinging hex met its mark on his wrist, he yanked his hand back and glared daggers at Hermione.

"What is the matter with you?!" Minerva snapped. "Stop manhandling Harry and explain- with words- what the hell you're on about!"

Taking a deep breath, he snarled, "If Dung is pardoned with the same information that Malfoy had already given the ministry, I expect the Minister to uphold his end of the bargain and at the very least do the same for Draco!"

In the silence that followed, Severus took in harsh, shallow breaths. He knew the ministry played their own games, but to deny a plea bargain was high corruption, even for them. The bargain had to be honored, it was the only way to help Draco and Narcissa. If it didn't, if Kingsley refused-

"Go get him," said Minerva softly to Potter. Nodding, the boy stepped around Severus and vanished in green flames.

Shocked, he met Minerva's eyes. She shrugged. "You're right- fair's fair."

A hand touched his arm, and he yanked it back before realizing that Hermione had stepped closer. "Are you all right?" she asked, staring at his face in concern.

He nodded shakily, before pausing and whispering "No, not really."

He turned from them both, walking over to his desk and placing his palms against the surface. The anger he felt at the injustice of it all was settling, but his heart was beating so hard he wasn't sure what was keeping it in his chest. He focused on his breathing. In... Out... In... Out...

Hermione spoke from behind him. "I'm sorry for hexing you."

He huffed a laugh before closing his eyes. "It wasn't undeserved."

"No, it wasn't," she agreed. "But I'm still sorry I hurt you."

He looked at his wrist for the first time since the altercation and noticed a small welt. "Nothing a little bruise paste can't take care of."

Quiet shifting behind him alerted Severus to Minerva's approach. Righting himself quickly, he turned before she came too close. The last thing he wanted was a sympathetic pat on the back.

She paused a few steps from him and put her hands on her hips. "Why must you always be so dramatic?" she chided gently. "There was no need for that kind of outburst. You know I would have backed you on this. I do have a... 'penchant for lost Slytherins,' after all." The corner of her mouth tipped up in a slight grin.

Her reminder of that brief conversation, half a year ago at this point, somewhat eased the tension in his chest. For the first time in his life he had support in someone he knew had his back, and for the right reasons. He wouldn't have to fight for this alone, wouldn't owe anyone anything for this act of kindness towards him. With gratitude, he nodded. "Thank you, Minerva. It is... appreciated."

Hermione approached him again, but before she could say anything the fireplace roared back to life and a glowering Kingsley stepped out of the flames. "This had better be important," he snapped at Severus. "I was in the middle of-"

"I'm sure it was a very serious matter," interrupted Minerva, and Severus blinked at her back as she turned towards the Minister. "However, we believe this to be just as in need of attention."

"'We?' Potter only mentioned-"

"Yes," Minerva continued. "I must say, I wholeheartedly agree with Severus on this matter."

"As do I," said Hermione, her quiet voice like a song to his ears. With her at his side and Minerva leading the charge, the three of them stood as a unified front- he couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to fight alone.

Kingsley looked between the three of them before sighing and sinking into the chair. Gesturing for the others to follow suit, he waited until they sat- Minerva now occupying the seat by Hermione in the absence of Potter- and asked, "So, what is it?"

Severus crossed his arms and addressed the Minister at last. "High Park was on the list of potential hide-outs the Malfoys provided."

"Yes, it was," Kingsley agreed. "And at the time, High Park was unoccupied. Yes," he responded to Severus' raised eyebrow, "we checked out each and every one of the locations the Malfoys provided us, just as I told you. It is my belief that in this instance our doing so- our breaking the wards that had previously hidden the townhouse- allowed Mundungus to establish it to his own needs."

He hadn't thought about that. Without the wards being broken, Mundungus wouldn't have had a clue the place even existed. Still, though... "The Ministry didn't think to keep an eye on it?"

Kingsley sat up straight at that. "Of course we did. But we were stretched thin. We still are stretched thin, so forgive us for not noticing the wards we had placed around the home were tampered with. For all we know, it could have happened during the werewolf attacks."

Severus shook his head, dismissing the excuses. "The point of the matter is that if the ministry hadn't slipped up, Lucius's plea bargain would have been fulfilled, not Mundungus's!"

The moment the minister realized what Severus was asking for, he dropped his gaze and rubbed his forehead. After a heavy pause, he sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"That isn't good enough." Minerva had taken over the conversation once more, and Severus and Kingsley both directed their attention towards her. Her face was set in a stern frown, her hands folded in her lap and shoulders back. Severus recognized the glint in her eyes, the lioness shining through ready for a fight. "Severus is right; Lucius gave you sound information that would have elicited these same results or better had the ministry been paying attention. You are in debt to the Malfoys, whether you like it or not. It's time you uphold your bargain."

Kingsley looked between Minerva and Severus, and even spared a glance at Hermione, whose cheeks reddened at the attention. Then, with a heavy sigh, he stood. "You're right, all three of you. Of course you're right. I'll see to it that things are sorted out."

Minerva stood as well, and Severus followed suit. "Thank you," he said with less kindness than he perhaps should have afforded the man, but anger still boiled under the surface though the brute of it had calmed. His chest had loosened, at least.

"I trust we'll hear from you soon," Minerva spoke as Kingsley grabbed for the floo powder. Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded.

"As soon as I can get it done." Then he dropped the powder, called out for the Headmistress's office, and was gone.


They were alone again, the Headmistress having departed a few minutes ago, and Hermione lingered on the sofa. Severus sat at his desk, elbows on the surface and head in his hands. He was silent and still, and she knew he would have preferred she left, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

His earlier outburst was, to put it frankly, frightening. She knew he had a temper- gods, she had been on the receiving end enough times to know that well- but he had never gotten physical with her. Watching him grab Harry like that, not once but twice... no, he didn't hurt him, nor did she believe he intended to, but it was frightening to see all the same.

She understood the reason behind the outburst, and agreed with it wholeheartedly. Well, maybe not so much the idea of letting Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban, but if that's what it took to get Draco out, she could stomach the thought. Because the farther they got from the end of the war, the more she realized that none of her peers should have been involved in something like this, regardless of allegiance. They were children, for gods sake. And she knew that if Draco had had better guidance, if he had been given an out, he would have taken it. She only wished they all had seen that sooner.

She doubted he would have been any more pleasant to be around, but at least he would have had a choice.

Severus inhaled sharply and dropped his hands. He turned in his seat, rising, and jerked back dramatically when he saw her. "Holy hell, Hermione," he breathed, eyes wide and a hand on his chest.

She smiled softly. "Forget I was here?"

"Apparently so." With a frown, he asked, "Are you all right?"

"That's what I was going to ask you."

"I'm-" falling back into his chair, he sighed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said quietly, "If I hadn't asked for a location, if I hadn't been involved in this at all, no one would have thought of them."

'Them' being the Malfoys, she thought with sudden clarity. His outburst wasn't just anger at the fact that the ministry overlooked them, but that they wouldn't have cared.

She took a breath. "But you were involved. They'll be all right. It-"

Severus shook his head. "That isn't the point." He rubbed his eyes and stared somewhere just above her head, gaze slightly vacant. "A few years ago, Narcissa placed her trust in me to protect her son and ensure her family lived on. I'm no longer bound by magic to do so, but I still feel compelled to. I care deeply about Draco and his mother. I would do almost anything to see them free."

His eyes suddenly locked with hers. "But I can't do that if I'm locked away in here- there's no assurance anyone could give me to trust that it would be done without my constant attention! Why is it so hard to just do the right thing?

"Oh, but what do I know about doing the right thing?" he muttered as he stood, walking towards the hallway.

Hermione grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling back quickly when he hissed in pain. She grimaced; she had forgotten about the hex she hit him with. "Sorry," she said quietly. "But... I think you might be jumping to conclusions. It sounded to me that the ministry just had an oversight. I'm sure Kingsley will see to it."

He stood beside her, staring at the wound on his wrist. "If I can't be there to ensure it be done the right way, it won't be." Clenching his fist, he turned and slammed it into the wall, leaving a palm-sized crater behind. Hermione jumped, startled, and flinched when he let out a frustrated shout. "Damn MacNair and damn the ministry! I want out of this bloody house already!"

Without another word or even a glance in her direction, he stormed out of the living room.

The sound of the garden door slamming shut made Hermione jump again, and she turned back to the fireplace with a hand on her rapidly beating heart. "I can't fault him for that," she muttered to herself, thinking about how badly she wanted to be able to come and go freely as well. At least she had had a few brief reprieves to Grimmauld Place; he hadn't left this house since mid November. No wonder he was growing pent up and agitated, lashing out every chance he could. The man needs a better outlet, she thought as she waved her wand at the wall and repaired the damage.

The cat flap fluttered, and the barely audible pitter patter of soft paws traveled down the hallway. She turned her head as an affronted Crookshanks ambled by and walked straight over to the wingback chair. "Did he kick you out of the garden?" she asked her familiar, who blinked at her before reaching out to scratch the leg of the chair.

"Oi!" Hermione shouted, jumping up and gathering her cat in her arms. "I don't care what he did, that's no excuse for scratching up his furniture!" Crookshanks simply hissed and leapt free of her arms, whipping his tail back and forth as he sulked out of the room and up the stairs. With a frown at her familiar's departure, she sighed and went to go see what Severus was up to.

The sun was high in the sky today, an unusually nice day for January, and oddly quiet with a lack of even the slightest breeze. Severus was standing in the middle of the garden with his back to the house, arms crossed and staring straight ahead.

She walked up to his side and stood with him for a moment before saying, "Crookshanks is furious with you."

He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. "He told you that, did he?"

"He was about to tell your chair all about it, but I was feeling charitable."

His eyebrow raised. "Am I yet due for retribution?"

"That depends. What did you do to him?"

Dropping his arms, Severus nodded to an overturned bucket near the corner of the garden. "I kicked that. I didn't know he was there until it hit him."

Snorting, Hermione looked back at the house. "He's had worse thrown at him; he'll live." After a moment of silence, she asked, "Did it make you feel better?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Though watching your cat's reaction to being struck in the head with a metal bucket definitely relieved some tension."

"I'm sure he's happy to be of service," she said monotonously, before adding more kindly, "Well, I'm glad something helped."

Severus ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "It's been two months, Hermione."

"I know." Quickly casting a warming charm around the two of them- it was still below freezing, and no sun or lack of wind would change that- she asked, "Weren't you going to re-evaluate with Kingsley after the holidays?"

"I was, yes."

She turned to face him properly. "So why didn't you?"

He stared at her for a long moment, and she didn't need legilimency to read his mind. "It was because of me, wasn't it?"

Looking away, he shrugged. "You wanted to stay."

"I-" Thoughts racing, it took her a moment to find the words she was looking for. "It was wholly unnecessary," she settled on. "I would have understood-"

"I wanted you to stay just as badly," he interrupted, staring at her once more.

Her stomach swooped, and she could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks, warming her pleasantly. "Oh," she mumbled, then smiled softly. "Well, at least we were on the same page."

He reached out then, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The warming charm had nothing against the heat that spread through her body at that moment, wrapped tightly in his arms. She took in that wonderful scent of patchoulli and herbs, feeling like a weight had been lifted by his touch. He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek against her hair and said, "I do not regret my decision, Hermione. It's just the thought of having been so close to freedom..."

"We'll get there," she assured him, pulling back to look at his face. "And in the meantime... well, we'll just have to find a way to get by."

It wasn't exactly comforting, but he smiled nonetheless.


The streets of London were unusually sparse as Carden walked the streets. He didn't mind; he hated crowds, and less people around meant he could talk more freely to his companions. To his right walked a well-disguised Fenrir Greyback, and to his left a cowed Walden MacNair. He turned towards the latter as they rounded a corner and passed a small bakery. "There is one place you could go," he told the man. "There's an old house on the Eastern coast, near Sunderland. The Dark Lord used it periodically as a meeting place. Are you familiar?"

"I am," grunted the man. "So you want me to lie low, then?"

"Only for now. The loss of your two brethren has put a damper in my plans. I need to rethink some things."

As MacNair nodded reluctantly, he added, "I would go now, though. It's unwise for you to be in public for long. Here- take this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small satchel, filled with a handful of coins. "There's a small village within walking distance, if my memory serves correct. Buy you enough supplies to lay low for a few weeks. I'll come to you when it's time."

MacNair took the coins almost greedily, and Carden knew most of those would be spent on drink. It didn't bother him; in fact, he was counting on it. "I'll see you in a few weeks, then," he told the man in dismissal, before walking on without him.

Fenrir kept pace with him. "And what of our plans?"

"They haven't changed." Nodding at a passing couple, he waited until they were out of earshot before continuing. "Have your people in position well before moonrise. We don't want anyone shifting outside of Hogsmeade. I know your pack has thinned, and we need everyone there to make a proper impact."

"And why Hogsmeade, sir?"

Carden frowned at the man beside him, though he did not see. "They'll be expecting us to attack muggles. If we attack the all-wizarding village, they'll realize that nowhere is safe.

"On that note," he added, "It's close enough to the school to put fear in the hearts of students and parents alike. They know the border is weak; an uproar will be had, which will add nicely to the chaos of it all."

"And what of you, sir?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The other man ducked his head. "I apologize. I shouldn't be prying."

"No, you shouldn't be." They turned another corner, and Carden's destination came into view. "I'll tell you this much- I plan to use these distractions to my advantage."

As he laid his hand on the handle of the phone box, he told Greyback, "Go collect your people. I'm off to have a chat with the minister."


A/N: I just wanted to let you know that the next three and a half chapters are written, so hopefully the wait for the next chapter won't be long!