Chapter 18

Doughty Street

Charity's iron eyelids fell open ever so slightly. Her limbs felt as if full of sand, her body drained of all energy. A large, dark blur stood in front of her amidst a dull grey background. She lay still and silent while she waited for her vision to clear. As the indistinct fuzz around her sharpened to general shapes, she saw that the blur was a person. That person seemed to notice that she'd become somewhat conscious and knelt down, whispering, "Drink this." It was a man's voice.

The man turned her face and supported her neck and head while he poured a liquid down her throat. It was warm and thick and it clung to the sides of her throat as it made its way down. She closed her eyes, and much time must have passed before she opened them again, because bright sunlight was now fighting its way through a crack between dark panels of curtain that hung at a nearby window. Charity felt more lucid this time and was sure she'd be able to move again when she needed to, but not yet. She didn't know where she was, or why, and wanted to get a better handle on her situation before calling attention to herself.

Someone was a across the small room and appeared to be cutting or crushing something at a table. It must be the man who'd given her the drink. He turned and looked at Charity. She clamped her eyelids shut, but it was too late; he'd seen her. He came over, knelt down next to her, and said, "Good, you're awake. It's almost time for your next dose." Charity knew this voice very well.

"Severus!" she gasped and sat straight up. Her first instinct was to clutch him tightly with her arms wrapped around his neck. She was still terrorized by her latest experience and needed this human contact. As she held on, she replayed in her mind the scene that had led up to this moment. She loosened her grip around Snape's neck and looked quickly around. She had no idea where they were, but they were alone.

"Are you dead too? Did you try to save me and he killed you too?" she asked urgently.

"I did save you," answered Snape. He'd gently pulled her arms from him and was now standing, looking down at her. His tone carried no warmth. He was merely stating facts. "We're both alive."

Charity took a brief moment to take this in and then asked, "But how? I saw the green light…Avadra Kadavre…?"

"With defenseless prey, the Dark Lord used the situation to once again demonstrate the enormity of his great power. Against my better judgment, I directed a banishing charm at you while everyone else was distracted by his moment of hubris." Snape must have noted the confused look on Charity's face and continued his mono-toned explanation, "The charm hit you, causing you to fall to the table split seconds before his curse ricocheted off the walls and reached you." Charity remained silent as she absorbed this shocking new information.

Snape continued, "I also managed to convince the Dark Lord that, unworthy though your subject was, you were a professor at the honorable school of Hogwarts and deserved a better burial than to decompose in the acid stomach of his dear pet, Nagini. I've been allowed to take your body for burial."

Fear flickered back into Charity's eyes. Was Snape now going to finish what Voldemort began? She looked into his face and saw resolve and perhaps a trace of sadness but not murder. Emboldened by this reassurance, she asked, "Why? Why would you take that risk?"

"I don't know," answered Snape. He returned to his work at the table and continued with his back to Charity. When he spoke again, it was almost as if he was explaining more to himself than to her. "I lost someone I cared about once to my Dark Master, and I suppose in those few seconds of impulsive action, the weaker side of me knew that I couldn't bear for it to happen again."

In the same breath that Snape told Charity that he cared about her, he stung her by seeming to think that saving her was a mistake. Charity now fully recollected her latest feelings towards Snape and replied with words sharp as knives. "Pity for Dumbledore that you didn't care so much for him," she said evenly. Snape turned towards her with an angry jerk. "What?" she challenged him, "he never gave you a good enough snogging?"

Snape's mouth opened as if to offer a thousand explanations at once. Instead his mouth closed, and his face set once again in stone. Seeing that she would not get a satisfactory reaction from him, Charity concluded coolly, "Thank you, Severus, for saving my life, but I don't know how worthwhile this life is going to be with the Death Eaters and…and…" She couldn't bring herself to speak of Voldemort, not yet.

No matter, because Snape broke in to warn her, "You must not say his name from here forward. You would be putting yourself right back into his hands."

"You mean what's-his-face?" she asked, and Snape nodded affirmatively. With that small act of saying what was as close as she'd ever come to his name, she could feel her courage seeping back in. "By the way - what is his face?" she asked.

Snape ignored her question and told her gravely, "It is for my benefit at least as much as yours that the Dark Lord does not find out that you are still alive. If he found out that I betrayed him, even in such a small way, the vengeance he would seek on me would be ten times worse than what he'd do to you." Then in barely audible tones, he added, "I can hide you Charity, but before I do so I must ask you to make an Unbreakable Vow. In that vow you must promise that you will not, while you are in hiding, reveal to anyone your true identity or tell anyone that I saved you."

After a pause, while Charity tried to figure out how to save face as well as her life, she answered, "In your moment of weakness you spared me what's-his-face's wrath. I suppose I owe you the same. Yes, I'll take your vow."

"Are you sure you completely understand how an Unbreakable Vow works? You must be very careful. You must think about everything you're about to do or say. The vow won't care how many, er, Muggle potions you've consumed. It only knows that when it's broken, you're dead."

"I said, 'I'll take your vow!'" Charity answered sharply. Soon after, Snape held Charity's small hand clasped in his long, pale fingers as tongues of flame from his wand entwined them in light.

*****

The vow turned out to be a bit more complex than first described. In addition to keeping her identity secret, Charity was to do absolutely no magic -- she was to live entirely as a Muggle! Certainly there were very few witches better prepared to undertake such a task. She had a greater knowledge and much greater appreciation for Muggles than did the average witch or and wizard. After graduating from Preppy, she'd even participated in a magical-exchange program whereby she'd taken up residence with an open-minded Muggle family for several weeks. Even so, the prospect of refraining entirely from magic was daunting.

It was true that when she'd been a student she was not allowed to do magic during her breaks from school, however, she had still been surrounded by it. Her mother had been free to magically whip up a spot of tea whenever she felt like it, and although Charity wasn't licensed to Apparate or Disapparate (an advanced form of magical transportation whereby wizards and witches seem to appear out of and disappear into thin air), she often did side-by-sides by clinging onto her father's hand while he performed the necessary magic. Furthermore, the Muggles she'd lived with had always understood her to be a witch and were very eager to explain their Muggle ways whenever Charity became confused. And they never complained when she'd ease their way out of a sticky wicket by performing a little magic on the sly.

Snape had decided on London as Charity's hideout location. As he'd explained it, "It will be difficult enough for you to adjust to life as a Muggle without you having to learn an entirely new culture and language. London is a very big city and has its fair share of Muggle misfits, so you should blend in nicely. Also, it's close enough so that…sometimes…if…well, it may prove convenient."

He'd set her up in a second floor studio flat on Doughty Street in the Camden borough of London. He explained that he was shielding it with certain charms that would provide additional protection. He'd also taken care of details such as setting up a bank account with Muggle money and had somehow obtained Muggle identification. Right before he left her, he'd thrust a small bottle containing two small stones into her hand.

"Bezoar," he'd said darkly. "Keep them with you. If you ever drink or eat anything that you expect may have been poisoned, take one immediately." It was just like Snape to leave her with such comforting words.

Charity's new flat was small but fully furnished and comfortable. She'd collapsed onto her bare mattress upon first arriving, still drained from everything that had happened, and slept for nearly twelve hours. When she finally woke up the next morning, she sat alone in the stark, quiet apartment feeling very lonely. And scared. She'd never realized until just then of how much she'd always been watched over. She'd lived with her doting parents until she went off to Hogwarts, and once at the castle, she'd been under the watchful and protective presence of Dumbledore and McGonagall. Now it was just Charity and London.

Not being one to dwell on unpleasant thoughts for very long, Charity forced herself up off the bed and began pacing. "So I'm essentially a Muggle now – total immersion," she said aloud to herself (this was something that would become a habit now that she was to spend so much time alone.) She'd be able to do her research from the inside now. Why, for someone of her interests, this was actually a golden opportunity wasn't it? She confidently believed that, in the end, the wizarding world would triumph over Voldemort, and she'd be able to return to her old life; therefore, she was able to look at her current situation as merely a temporary one. One that she should take full advantage of.

Charity walked over to her tiny closet and looked at the Muggle clothes Snape had procured for her – a bright orange-flowered housecoat, a men's suit jacket, several pairs of tartan golf knickers, a small green vest with some kind of patches sewn all over it, a West Ham football t-shirt, rubber garden clogs, and an overstuffed parka.

"Terrific," she muttered. Looked like she'd be braving the Muggle clothing stores first. Her stomach grumbled. "And the grocery market," she added aloud.

Charity fashioned herself an ugly but passable outfit from the knickers and the tight West Ham t-shirt. The prior tenant had hung a full length mirror on the inside of the closet door, so she was able to see how she'd done. Her reflection was so strange to her, not because of the outfit, but because of how different she looked in her new hairstyle. Looking different was a good thing for Charity, because London was frequented by many Death Eaters. Snape had more than hinted that the Ministry of Magic, located in the heart of London, was littered with them, so something had to be done to disguise her.

Snape had gone through the options out loud, "Polyjuice is only temporary and will be too much trouble to maintain…we don't want to risk permanently changing any of your features…no, we'll have to keep it to your hair."

Wandless, Charity had to rely on Snape to transform her. It had been an odd sensation to put herself into the hands of a man she could no longer trust. She sat very still while he examined her intently, slowly circling and waving his wand. Her scalp tingled and she didn't move a muscle, afraid of growing hair where she didn't want it. When he finally finished, he stood directly in front of her and cupped her chin in his wand-free hand, tilting her face up toward his to examine his work. Charity closely watched Snape's expert eyes, which never once made contact with hers. As they stood silently in such a seemingly intimate pose, Charity wished she could go back to that night with Snape in her Hogwarts apartment and erase everything that had happened since.

Snape had changed Charity's long wavy golden curls into a coal black, blunt cut that came to her chin. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she could already see her natural curls beginning to rebel against the severely straight style.

Charity ventured out of the safe nest of her flat and caught the Russell Square Tube to the Knightsbridge station and arrived in a part of London she had often visited with her mother. Charity viewed public transportation as one of the truly great Muggle accomplishments and tried to use it whenever possible, even before living as a Muggle. Her first stop was to a large department store, where she was wary of the dressing rooms and elected to save the trying on for the safety of her own flat.

Passing a souvenir cart on her way back to the tube, she spotted a figurine of a bunny wearing a British Bobbie's hat. Her heart leapt for Bnickel, and she asked the cart attendant how much.

"Five quid," he answered.

Charity looked at the wad of bills and coins in her hand and couldn't recall any that were called a quid. "I'm afraid I don't have any quid," she told the man. He looked over her money and pulled out five one pound coins, shaking his head. "Thank you!" she smiled exuberantly at the man, thoroughly delighted to have already learned something new about Muggles – quid was apparently slang for pound.

The grocery market was going to be more difficult. Someone else, either her mother or house elves, had always taken care of that detail for her. She found a small market close to her flat and approached the crowded grocery shelves with trepidation. The cans and jars and boxes may as well have been the same array of mysterious items that lined the shelves in Snape's office for all that she knew what to do with them. She remembered the ingredients she'd had delivered to Hogwarts for the triple layer chocolate cake and began filling her cart. All in all, she felt it was a successful trip; the check-out girl didn't start looking at her curiously until after ringing up the sixth dozen of eggs.

During the next few days, Charity also bought herself a Television set, a computer, and several cookbooks, so she could research Muggles in the privacy of her own flat. When she proudly surveyed her purchases and added up what she'd spent, she realized that she needed to get a job. Snape had secured enough money for her to survive on, but he was clearly used to subsisting on a lot less than was Charity. She was going to have to earn some extra income, particularly considering she had no idea how long she was to be living the Muggle life.

Charity looked through the Help Wanted adds in the Muggle newspaper. It was much more difficult hunting down a job this way compared to via the Daily Prophet. With the Muggle paper, Charity had to actually read through each column of advertisements, circling those that appealed to her, and then telephone each place of business herself. When searching for a job in the Prophet, one only needed to open up to the job postings section where a nasally-voiced witch with black-rimmed reading spectacles resting on her pointed nose would appear and ask a series of questions. The witch would record your answers onto her notepad and then disappear back into the page. After a few minutes of listening to what sounded like the shuffling of a tremendous amount of paper, the witch would reappear with a list of job postings for which you were qualified and a schedule of appointments.

After hours and hours of reading and circling, Charity found a job that sounded perfect for her - Gallery Assistant in the Departments of Greece and Rome at the British Museum. The museum itself was within walking distance of her flat, and Charity felt qualified for the job since she'd taught units on both Greece and Rome in her Muggle Studies course. She wrote up a resume, referring to Muggle Studies simply as Human Studies, and walked it into the Museum the next day.

She was led immediately into the office of a short, pepper-haired man called Mr. Duster. The two of them had a delightful conversation about the continual relevance of ancient Greece and the importance of passing the lessons learned from Rome on to the next generation. They had a particularly interesting discussion of the history of the Olympic Games. Charity wanted so much to tell Mr. Duster about the exciting history of the Triwizard tournament but restrained herself. She received a phone call the very next day telling her that she was hired. Charity sat back with a nearly perfect cup of tea that she'd prepared herself and congratulated herself on the success of her first few weeks as a Muggle.