Chapter 18: Escape Into the Night
Fredrick Swift was a good boy. He worked hard and loved his dear mum and sister more than his very own life. Every penny he managed to scrape up went to feed and clothe the family his drunken father had left behind, but it was never enough. Fredrick wanted so desperately to buy his mum a nice new bonnet or even a pretty doll for little Lizzie, but more often than not he could barely afford the meager amount of food on the table. Nightly, he swallowed his meal and his pride together, as he wished he could do more. Fredrick Swift was a good boy, but when the fat man had come to the tavern looking for keen-eyed lads to keep watch over a house for him, he could not resist the temptation of the offered twenty quid.
It seemed like such an innocent job. He merely found a nice hiding spot across the way and watched who came and went. There was nothing wrong with watching, was there? Oh, but his employer made it seem so! Mr. Dursley's interest in that house was almost unnatural. The fat man paid three boys to watch the house every minute of every day. There was a feverish gleam in his eye that made Fredrick's skin crawl. If not for his mum and Lizzie, he would have turned his back on the job no matter how it paid.
At first, Fredrick had very little information to take to Mr. Dursley. The young woman, Mrs. Figg, left the house only rarely, and the young man left the house not at all. The only regular visitors were a man with red hair and a scarred face and a gaunt spinster. Hearing this didn't seem to get much of a reaction from Mr. Dursley, but then the lord arrived. As soon as the dark-haired nobleman began to visit, Mr. Dursley wanted nightly reports. He even demanded to know what kind of mood the lord seemed to be in. But nothing prepared him for when the lord and the boy disappeared into the night.
Fredrick was crouched in his usual place across the street when a black carriage appeared in front of the house. Lord Snape descended from the unmarked conveyance, looking about cautiously before murmuring something to the driver and then entering the house. Moments later, Lord Snape returned to the carriage in the company of a slender, dark-haired young man. It was the first time Fredrick had seen the boy that Mr. Dursley was so intent on watching, and he somehow knew that it would be the last time he saw him. Immediately, Fredrick wanted to run to the fat man and tell him, but he waited until the carriage had pulled down the street to pop out of hiding.
By the time he reached the Dursley residence, his lungs were burning and his legs ached from running the entire way. Fredrick entered the house through the servant's entrance and waited. It did not take long for Mr. Dursley to appear, looking quite ominous.
"What the devil are you doing here?" he demanded.
Fredrick pulled at the edges of his cap nervously. "Ye said I should come to ye right quick if I saw somethin', an' the boy has left the house. I don't know where they gone, but I watched 'em leave."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LEFT THE HOUSE?" Vernon raged at the nervous young man before him.
Clutching his hat tightly, the boy began to stammer, "I…I…I saw the lord an' the boy get in his carriage. Now, I followed him a bit…like ye told me to…an' they were headin' out the city. Should I get the boys an' follow?"
"Absolutely useless!" Vernon growled. "I don't know why I even bothered to hire you. All of you are absolutely useless. Of course, you should follow them, you fool!"
In the time it took for young Fredrick to relay his message, Lord Snape and the boy were well on their way out of the city. Severus studied his companion thoughtfully. He was, thankfully, staring out the window intently, unaware that he was being watched. The thought had occurred to Severus over the passed few weeks that he could keep him as his new "mistress." He owned a small home just outside of Spinner's End that would do nicely, and he believed an arrangement between them could work. After all, he was undoubtedly through with London for a while, and he knew that the youth across from him desired him at least in some capacity. But then again, there were other things to consider…
Suddenly brown eyes turned toward him. "Do think they took the bait, my lord?" Daniel asked.
Severus shrugged. "We will know soon enough. I told Hermione and Mr. Weasley to wait a day or two before sneaking Harry away, and Mr. Whit has hired nearly a dozen of his most trusted counterparts to keep watch over things for me."
"It must be costing you a fortune," Daniel said in mild surprise.
"I have a fortune to spend," the lord replied in a rather blasé tone. He hoped the "courtesan" would dismiss the conversation and go back to his window, but that seemed unlikely. Since he had been given leave to speak—for the time being at least—Daniel had proved to be a near match for even Hermione's loquacious nature.
Daniel arched a raven brow. "Might I be so bold to ask who the boy is to you, my lord? I cannot help but to be somewhat struck by how much you have done for Mr. Potter. I doubt there is another man in all of England who would do the same."
Sighing deeply, Severus debated what to tell Daniel. In a way, Severus could not deny that the young man deserved an explanation of it all. Daniel had been absolutely dumbfounded when Severus asked him to pretend to be Harry in a broader sense than just the bedroom, but he had not refused. In fact, his goal in aiding them did not even appear to lie in the heavy purse that Severus had offered for the scheme. Daniel—as Lupin would say—had a good heart despite his choice of profession. He deserved to know why Severus was willing to go so far and to ask others to do the same.
"I found the boy," Severus began slowly, and the tale began to unfurl—from how he found Harry to his somewhat dubious obsession, he left nothing out. With each word the lord found himself revealing things that he had not allowed himself to say aloud. It was as if he was incapable of keeping his silence for another day. By the time he finished, Severus could feel the steely constraints of his usual reticence returning, and he was at once embarrassed by what he had said. "I am not a man to give confidences—particularly those of a personal nature," he finished sternly.
Daniel's eyes were wide at what he had been told, but he did not take on the righteous anger that Severus had been suspecting. Instead, he shook his head grimly. "I had never imagined that someone like you existed."
"Someone like me?" Severus inquired softly despite the rage building inside.
"You are his dark angel," Daniel explained. He smiled sadly. "An avenging knight come to take him away from his pain. He is a lucky man, even with all of his trials. I am glad that I have been able to help you in whatever manner."
"I would have never guessed that a man in your line of work would be so bloody romantic," Severus murmured sarcastically.
The younger man merely shrugged. "I've seen too many people die inside. You can watch it happening—the loss of their dreams, the crumbling of their self-worth, the disintegration of their morals—in their eyes. Well, I swore to myself that I would never let it go that far. I sell my body, not my soul."
"Then you are far different from most people in my acquaintance—both whores and peers. Perhaps you are more like him than I thought." Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I am going mad."
Daniel smiled sadly. "If only we could all go mad."
Severus would have replied, but a sudden pounding came from the carriage roof. "Mi'lord, riders comin' up from the east. Hol' tight."
Biting back an oath, Severus peered out of the window to catch a glimpse of four dark-clad men attempting to flank the carriage. A shot sounded, sending one of their attackers hurtling into the dirt. The other riders paid no mind to their fallen friend. Severus silently hoped that the men Whit had sent with them were everything they were promised to be. Three more shots rang out, but Severus was not fool enough to put his head out. He pulled a small wooden box from beneath his seat and began to examine the pistol held within. Though he was no marksman, he had no intention of sitting by unprotected and unaware.
A shot splintered the wooden frame of the carriage, and Daniel let out a sharp cry of pain. Crimson liquid began to stain his shirt almost immediately. Severus hurried to use his coat to stop the bleeding, but he knew there was little he could do in the carriage to aid Daniel. He did not think that the wound would be lethal, but he was no physician. "Hold tight. It will be over soon," he said as softly as he could manage.
"God, it hurts," Daniel whimpered pitifully. He said something more, but his voice was drowned out by the beating hooves and sounding gunfire.
Severus held the wounded young man as steady as he could while the carriage rocked to a sudden halt. At first, he hoped to see one of the bodyguards appear in the doorway to announce that their attackers had been killed, but minutes passed with no sign of Whit's men. It was all too obvious that Whit's men would not be coming. The only ray of hope Severus could see was the gleaming weapon lying on the carriage floor. He pulled his pistol beneath Daniel's body and cocked it, hoping that he would have no need of it. He wasn't foolhardy enough to think that he could best a band of killers and thieves with a dueling pistol and a single shot.
"Be quiet," he whispered to the boy. Daniel nodded weakly against the lord's body, but to his credit, he made no sound.
They felt the carriage give way slightly as a man mounted the vehicle. There was a slight scraping noise, and then a body fell from atop, landing in the dirt with a macabre thud. Whit's men had failed. Above them, their murderer cleared off the remains of the fallen and prepared to add their bodies to the pile. Any second, Severus reasoned, the door would open and they would be dead.
It was rather strange. Severus had thought of death often. He had always believed that he would meet Death without regrets or fear, but now that he felt his hour at hand, things were quite different. Severus was bursting with both. He was terrified that now Harry was absolutely defenseless, and he regretted not caring for the boy as he should have…for not saying morals be damned and loving him. In fact, if Severus were a religious man, he would pray for Harry and for forgiveness. Instead he merely held Daniel and watched the door.
When the carriage door did open, Severus was greeted by the man who had killed the Potters. Pettigrew's description of this horribly deformed man had not been embellished. Surely this was a face formed by the fires of Hell. As the scarred tissue tightened around his mouth in something akin to a smile, Severus realized that their deaths were not going to be easy.
"Good evening, Lord Snape," a silken voice drawled.
Severus did his best not to betray his hand as he looked upon the killer. "I assume that you are Dursley's man."
A mirthless laugh escaped the man. "No, I am nothing to Dursley, and he is merely a heavy purse to me."
"If it is a purse you require…"
"You mistake my ambitions, my lord. The payment is agreeable, but I do what I do for the entertainment. Perhaps, I shall let you live long enough to hear the pretty one scream," he said smoothly as he brandished a blade.
One quick motion, Severus thought steadily. All he needed was one quick motion and one right moment.