Chapter 20

Orla winced for about the twentieth time as Draco flinched at the sharp jabs of the fast-moving needles in the tattooist's gun, as the dragon outline was filled in with various shades of dark green. Draco, as he'd envisaged, had needed to Imperio the large, bearded man who had seen the Dark Mark move the previous evening. The artist needed to complete the job, then Draco would Obliviate everything from his mind before paying and leaving. As it was, Orla wasn't sure who looked more terrified, the Muggle under the Imperius curse, or Draco, with the snake brand on his arm writhing frantically as more of its body was covered, as if it were being slowly suffocated.

"It bodes well that the Mark is reacting," Malfoy had muttered, through clenched teeth. "The needles are piercing it in thousands of places, and the cursed ink is pouring in. I can feel it."

She rubbed his other arm ineffectively, in a vain attempt to soothe his pain, and felt a surprising rush of compassion for her unexpected new friend. He was being extremely brave, despite the pain he must be in.

She'd woken in the dead of night, the street in darkness outside, and had sat bolt upright in bed, scared and breathing heavily. When she'd lived here alone all those months, the nights had always been the worst. Always wondering whether some magical force would discover her while she slept, whilst her guard was down.

Draco had sleepily put out an arm and taken hold of her shoulder, pulling her to lay down closer to him, arranging her head on the side of his chest and snaking his arm around her back, holding her against him in a comforting manner. Not fully awake, he had made soothing noises before falling asleep again, seemingly happy to hold her close. Orla had felt strangely comforted by his physical presence, and surprisingly the next thing she remembered was waking up still in his arms, the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Morning," he'd said, stretching his slim body like a cat, and she'd taken that moment to discreetly move back to her own pillow. "You slept well?"

"Yes, in the end. Thanks, Draco."

He'd looked across at her, a serious look in his blue eyes.

"Anytime, Orla. We're in this together."

She'd waited for the joke, for the punchline, but none had come, so she'd just lazed in bed for a while longer, enjoying the quiet companionship and Draco's unthreatening presence in her bed, unlike that raping bastard Yaxley. She'd shuddered, forcing her mind away from her tormentor, and jumped out of bed to grab the shower first. They had a busy day ahead.

As soon as the pharmacy opened, she'd left Draco in the flat and gone downstairs to go cap-in-hand to Brenda, but as it turned out, she hadn't needed to. As she'd begun to apologise, her boss and landlady had grabbed her hands with a sigh of relief, and told Orla how worried she'd been when she hadn't returned from the week away she'd requested, with no signs of life in the flat.

Brenda admitted she'd used her own set of keys on the second day to enter the flat to see if Orla was in difficulty, but had been even more concerned to find the flat locked, but empty.

Orla had asked if it was possible to have her job back, and Brenda had agreed immediately, saying she'd not been able to find anyone else in the near-month that Orla had been gone, and that she was welcome to start the following day, once she had herself settled. She hadn't even asked for an explanation. Perhaps the haunted look in Orla's eyes had made her too uncomfortable to question further.

Bouncing back up the stairs to the flat, she'd been delighted to tell the news to Draco, who had made tea and toast for them both in the small kitchenette.

"Just me that needs a job now," he'd said, slurping strong English breakfast tea from a pink mug with flowers on.

"You've got a lot to learn first, wizard boy," she replied, "and I've only got one day's grace to give you a crash course. I'm going to start in the shop tomorrow morning."

"Let's do it. After my appointment, of course," he winced, looking down at his arm with the tattooed dragon outline around the Dark Mark.

And so, here they were. In an empty tattoo parlour on an early-morning appointment that Draco had somehow Confunded the artist into opening for. Imperio cast, he had cursed the inks, and then allowed the frightened man to get on with his work, which was actually an impeccable piece of art.

A few times Draco had screamed in pain, and it seemed as if the Dark Mark was fighting every step of the way.

"I'm glad to get this reaction," he muttered. "If nothing was happening I'd be worried I was simply painting over it. But the pain, the snake moving, its fighting against something. I'm definitely doing something, but I have no idea exactly what," he finished, gritting his teeth against the next wave of pain.

Suddenly, his face turned even whiter than its normal pale shade, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He wasn't making a sound, but he was shaking. She shook his free arm, hard, calling his name.

"Draco! Speak to me! What is the matter? Is it the pain?"

His eyes opened, and the whites had a slightly red tinge, as if a tiny blood vessel had broken behind them.

"The Mark is burning," he explained. "It's a summons. He's calling the Death Eaters, and for the first time ever, I'm going to ignore it."

He closed his eyes again, a film of cold sweat covering his face, shuttering the sheer panic she'd seen there.

-xxx-

Hogwarts was halfway through the second lesson of the morning when Snape felt his Dark Mark burn.

Now?

It was an odd time of day to receive a summons, and he wondered immediately what the bloody hell had happened. He began to stalk down the corridor towards his office and private chambers to change into his Death Eater robes, because not even an emergency would excuse the followers from not arriving in the cloaks and masks that Lord Voldemort had so benevolently provided them with.

The Death Eaters that resided within the castle wore their robes at all times, their masks concealed beneath the voluminous cloaks, but Snape continued to wear the same black coat and professorial teaching cloak that he always had. At least he had the benefit of being able to Apparate from anywhere in the school to wherever they had been summoned, so he would not risk being late and incurring the punishment.

Little Hangleton it turned out to be, of course. This was now Voldemort lair, and it looked creepier but yet more luxurious every time he visited. They were assembled in the main hall, but no naked witches or sumptuous feasts were laid out this time. The Dark Lord was incandescent, and someone was going to pay.

"Who has destroyed their Dark Mark? I can feel that one has been damaged, one is not working as it should. Who has desecrated the brand I bestowed upon them, as a mark of my faith in their absolute servitude? Who would dare to violate me, Lord Voldemort, in this unspeakable manner?"

He was already in full-flow when Severus arrived; watching, counting and repeating himself as the Death Eaters arrived at different times from their various posts, eyes narrowed even more than the red slits they already were, waiting, just waiting, to find out who was not answering the summons. That witch or wizard was liable to be punished severely, most likely killed.

As they arrived, Voldemort was forcing them to turn up their sleeves, to proffer their undamaged Marks for his perusal and inspection. Finally, he made his pronouncement.

"We are one short," he said, so quietly that the threat dripping from his words was palpable. "We are missing … young Master Malfoy."

All eyes turned upon Lucius, whose blue eyes were downcast, as if he was either guilty, distraught, or simply not listening.

"Where is your son, Lucius?"

"I do not know, my Lord. He left for school, and was in the care of Snape and my other brothers stationed there. I believe that he was allowed to abscond from school yesterday."

All eyes swivelled towards Severus.

"Severus and I have already discussed this matter. We had not believed it of great importance. The loss of your pathetic son is of no consequence to our organisation."

Lucius winced, showing he was indeed listening to every word, despite his unfocused demeanour.

"But now, now the boy is attempting to hide from us, to defect from his responsibilities. He remembers what happened to Karkaroff, oh yes! He knows what happens to bearers of the Mark who try to evade me. I know not what he has done to block the charm that links all your Marks to me, but hear this, everyone! You are to find Draco Malfoy, and you are to bring him to me … alive, for I have much to say to him… first. If you find Yaxley's Mudblood with him, she is to be brought too. We have lost the conduit of the Dark Mark, but I have faith that one of you will find this coward. And that witch or wizard, will be most handsomely rewarded … with a place at my side."

Riddle had made it impossible for any Death Eater to fail to put their utmost effort into seeking the runaway. Since Bella's death, there had been much gossip and speculation about whether the Dark Lord would take another into his confidence, and who it would be. There was a buzz of fevered anticipation at his offer, in truth a poorly-concealed bribe, as the assembled Death Eaters expressed their desire to find the boy who had broken ranks, the one who could be their ticket to a place at their master's side.

Snape could only hope that wherever Malfoy and Roach had concealed themselves, that it was a fucking good hiding place.

-xxx-

Hermione was packing her overnight bag for another 'forced' stay in the Headmaster's private quarters, throwing in something to wear to the emergency Order meeting that Lupin had called, and the reason for her summons to his office, watched by Parvati from her bed. Her friend was clearly upset.

"I hate this, Hermione! I hate that this is happening to you. Can't you just, not go?"

"What would be the point of that, Parvati? If I didn't go, one of the others would just come and drag me there."

"Why don't you run, like Orla did?"

"And where would I go? My family are gone, my best friends are dead. At least here I have you, and Seamus, and McGonagall."

Parvati crossed the room and hugged her, and Hermione returned it awkwardly, it had usually been Lavender that was the recipient of Parvati's hugs, not herself.

"I'm scared," Parvati continued. "I'm scared of living in this world, and what's happening, and what's going to happen. I'm pureblood, but I certainly don't believe in pureblood supremacy, nor do I want to live in a world where that's the ideal. After the summer, after our NEWTs, what happens then? Do we have to go out in the world, pretending we all support Voldemort? I don't know if I can do that."

Hermione didn't know how to reply. Everything the Order of the Phoenix was doing, was working to ensure that Parvati's fears never came to fruition, that they might stop Voldemort before he could do more damage. But she couldn't share that with her friend, not yet. Parvati had been in the DA, but she wasn't emotionally strong enough to join the Order. She wasn't coping well after Lavender's death, let alone all the others they had lost.

"I have to go," Hermione whispered. "Don't stay up here alone, ok? Go down to the common room, spend time with the others."

Parvati nodded, sniffing, but had already laid back down on her bed, staring up at the canopy above the four-poster, so Hermione doubted she'd make it out of the dormitory.

As she entered the common room, bag over her shoulder, she stopped to talk to Seamus, telling her friend what Parvati had said, and seeing the care etched across his prematurely lined forehead. The stresses of the last year had clearly got to him, and he looked far older than his eighteen years.

"Can't you stay with her tonight?" he asked. "I can't go up and get her, and she won't listen to any of the younger girls."

"You'll have to send one of them up to check on her, even if she doesn't come down. I have to go, Seamus. I have no choice."

"Fucking dirty bastard pervert Death Eaters," he spat. "Makes me fucking sick, Hermione, to think of you … doing what you have to do."

She couldn't reply. There was no way that Professor Snape compared to the abusive deviancy of Yaxley, or indeed any of the other Death Eaters. She wasn't going to sell him down the river, or badmouth him. The best course of action was to say nothing, so she kissed Seamus' cheek and hugged him tightly, before extricating herself neatly and slipping through the portrait hole, heading towards the Headmaster's office.

She had turned only one corner when she was grabbed roughly by the elbow.

"And where do you think you are going, Granger?"

It was Professor Snape, and he whirled her around to face him, forcing her to look up, and she saw his eyes were blank and expressionless, the same mask he wore to teach a class, or to address the school, or anywhere really, apart from the times when they were alone together.

"I'm … I'm heading for your office, Sir. I received your request for me to attend you there tonight, at this hour."

"You weren't planning on getting lost, then? Following the same route your little Mudblood friend took, straight out of the school?"

Mudblood. He would never call her by that name. They were undoubtedly being watched by concealed Death Eaters. Better give them a good show, then.

"No! I don't know where Orla went, I've told you. Please, let go of my arm, you're hurting me."

He gave her elbow a hard yank and unbalanced her, pulling her closer towards him.

"I'll be hurting you a lot more soon enough, don't you worry about that," he snarled, his lips contorted in an ugly slash. "I believed it prudent to escort you myself, lest you attack any more of the Professors in this school on your way to attend me."

"I would never attack a professor. I only retaliate when I get groped by a Death Eater who has the gall to call himself a teacher."

She was hot and angry, not really needing to act when thinking of the vile Walden Macnair. Snape grabbed hold of her shoulders and slammed her against the stone wall, only it didn't hurt a bit, it was as if the wall was made of soft, pliant rubber. He must have cast a non-verbal spell to cushion the blow as he threw her.

"Your mouth is as filthy as your blood. Perhaps I should clean it for you. If you cannot hold your tongue, I shall punish it."

He took hold of her round the neck and jawline with his large hand, his thumb firmly under her chin, and pushed her head back sharply before crashing his mouth down upon hers and forcing his tongue between her lips, swiping it sharp and fast inside her mouth, raping her tongue with his own, again and again. She struggled, and was rewarded by his bony hips fixing her to the wall so that she could not escape his grasp. His erection pressed against her mound – he must already be suffering with his compulsion. They needed to get to his office before he was forced to satisfy the curse in the cold hallway under the voyeuristic eye of Merlin knows how many Death Eaters.

Hermione parried his tongue with her own, aroused by his kiss, enjoying his dominance. She heard a tiny noise of pleasure escape from his frantic lips, and the very real danger of the situation reared its head.

She thought fast, and bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to break the kiss, which must have been looking less forced and ever more consensual by the second, but hopefully not to truly pain him.

"Bitch!" he spat, drawing back and wiping away the few spots of blood she had drawn.

They were both breathing heavily, and she could see from his eyes that he was suffering. Hell, from the passionate kiss they'd just shared, her own compulsion would no doubt be putting in an appearance sooner rather than later. Snape pushed his hand under her hair, grasping her around the back of the neck and began steering her down the corridor.

"My office awaits, I believe, Granger. You are about to dearly regret your last action."

Without even trying to see where the Death Eaters may be concealed, she gave a frightened whimper, and allowed him to manhandle her through the corridors and down staircases, keeping a mild, visible struggle and a most unhappy look upon her face. When they reached his office door he pushed her inside, before slamming the heavy oak and firing security wards against it.

"I apologise …"

She held up her hand.

"Don't. I think I worked out what was going on there. We were being watched?"

"A select few were lying in wait for you. I believe that their intention was to accost you as you made your way to my office."

"Thank you for being there."

"I behaved appallingly."

"Yes, you did, and you played your part well."

"As did you," he grumbled, ruefully, touching his bitten lower lip, and slumping into one of the fireside armchairs, looking annoyed and defeated.

"Are you compelled?" she asked.

"It is certainly grumbling, I fear. However, it is not yet at a desperate stage, and we should get to Grimmauld Place as soon as we can, for we have much to discuss."

"Alright, if you're sure. Let me just get changed and we can go."

She turned to head for his bathroom to change in, and Snape leapt from the chair and took hold of her arm, far more gently than he had done in the corridor.

"Do not. Do not remove your clothes in my chamber, because I am not sure I will have the control to avoid following you. Just come as you are to Grimmauld, please?"

There was a desperation in his eyes that hadn't been present in the corridor, where he'd locked away his feelings, but it was there now. She stepped towards him, and placed a tentative hand on his crotch, over his trousers, over his long coat. His penis was still hard and erect, and she began a slow rub over the area, almost enjoying the expression of surprise and pleasure that passed over his austere features.

"You are suffering far more than you admit, Sir. You cannot attend a meeting like this, it will only worsen, and you know it. Please, let's just deal with it before we go, you said yourself there are important things to discuss tonight, and you cannot concentrate if your mind is … elsewhere."

Her hand was still moving slowly over his erection, gently squeezing, and his hand closed over hers, mirroring her movements, and that fiery black desire was now burning in his eyes. Hermione felt a thrum of arousal between her own legs.

"I need you," he whispered, trailing his wand down the front of his frock coat, which unfastened all the buttons in one single cascade, and she, for the first time, let her small hands flutter to the buttons and zip fastening of his trousers, undoing everything slowly, releasing his hardness from its cramped prison.

As the zip reached the bottom, his swollen cock pushed forwards over the opening, covered by a pair of plain black undershorts. Hermione began to massage it through the material, and he let loose with a long moan of relief.

"Sit," she whispered, and he sat back down in the armchair that was directly behind his legs.

She knelt before him on the hearth rug.

"No," he protested, trying to pull her up from her knees.

"Sir, please allow me?" she requested, slipping his penis from the shorts and stroking all over the invitingly-soft skin with her hands - it was so irresistibly touchable, compulsion or not. "I mean, I don't know how … I've not done it before, but …"

"Merlin's bollocks, Granger, you could drive a wizard to madness. As if you have need to convince me to allow you to suck my cock. Do as you please, stupid girl."

She continued to stroke him as she knelt between his splayed legs, looking up at his familiar face, which was leaning on the fingers of one hand as his elbow rested on the chair arm. Snape's distinctive long, dark hair was falling forwards, just touching his shoulders and falling into his eyes, a little. But it was the eyes that did it. Those raven-black pools desired, invited, encouraged and tempted. She didn't give one single shit that he was her professor, her headmaster; for right now he was just a man that was focused entirely on her.

Hermione leaned forward and gave the bulbous head of his penis an experimental lick, making his hips jump about a foot from the chair.

"Fuck," he muttered.

That must mean he liked it. She returned to the head and began to swirl her tongue around it, trying to think what would feel good for him. She had the basics of what a blow-job should entail, but putting it into practise was a tad different, although he tasted good and she loved the silky softness of the skin there.

"Get your mouth down me, girl, because this is not going to last long, you succubus."

His growled words went straight to the seat of her knickers. She was learning that Professor Snape made love with his mind and voice, as well as his body.

Instinctively, she pushed her mouth down the shaft, keeping her lips in contact with his hot skin, taking as much of him as she could, although there was a natural stopping point when the head met the back of her throat. Embarrassingly, there was still quite a bit left to go in – what was she supposed to do with that?

"You won't get it all in on the first go," he rumbled. "Just do what you can. Use your hand for the remainder and don't hurt yourself on my account."

Hand. Got it. She took hold of the base and began to rub it whilst dragging her mouth back up his cock, straight away pushing down again.

"Holy bloody fuck, mother of Merlin … Granger!" he gasped, pushing his hips upwards, again.

That response would work as indication she was doing it right. Hermione began to find a rhythm, sliding her mouth up and down the shaft, feeling for his bodily responses, wanking the base and using her spare hand to cup and heft his ball sack, which caused him to shout so loud that she almost lost her grip. His hips were undulating underneath her ministrations, his cock getting harder and wetter in her mouth, leaking fluid from the tip, which, contrary to the ramblings of Miss Lavender Brown, really didn't taste all that bad.

She felt his fingers thread into her hair, cupping the back of her skull and ever-so-gently encouraging her movements. There was none of the grabbing and forcing that she'd heard mention of. His tenderness made her feel appreciated, and desired. It made her want to do this for him. She sped up her movements as the volume of his groaning increased, keeping her mouth sliding up and down his cock, moving her lips to increase his pleasure.

"Granger … you need to move …" he gasped, his fingers tightening on her head.

She did not slow her rapid sucking, if anything, his words made her increase her pace, wanting to see how far she could push him, to see if she could make this powerful wizard come just by doing this.

"Hermione! Please, stop …" his voice trailed off, and she looked up to see him staring intently at her, his words at contradiction with the utterly anguished lust upon his face.

His teeth were bared, and he could hold on no longer, his hips thrusting into her waiting mouth as he came, his semen dribbling from the end of his cock and increasing in quantity.

"Gnghh … Uhhh …. Oh, yes. Oh fuck, yes. Yes, witch. Take it. Take it all …"

Much of his seed spilled out of her mouth and back down his cock, onto his balls and goodness knows where else. She swallowed a little, for research purposes, and found it neither pleasant nor horrendously unpleasant.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Snape gasped, clutching her cheek with one exhausted hand and tilting her face to him, as if pleased him an untold amount to gaze upon her reddened face with his come dribbling down her chin. "Stupid girl. You didn't have to do that."

"I'm sorry it went everywhere," she replied, embarrassed at her lack of finesse.

"Don't you ever apologise to me, witch. Ever."

He took a few deep breaths, as if trying to return the air to his lungs, then extracted his wand from the sleeve of his coat and sent cleansing spells first at her, and then at his own lap, before tucking his penis away in his shorts and standing to refasten his trousers, offering a hand to pull her to her feet. Holding her shoulders, he looked down at her.

"Thank you. That was …"

"A way to relieve your symptoms," she interrupted, quickly, although the adolescent part of her that craved his praise wanted to hear how sublime it had been, how satisfying her attentions were, even for her first time.

"Indeed," he replied, his eyes becoming the shuttered windows they usually were. "Can I assist you in any way? Do you have any symptoms, currently?"

"No," she answered, not entirely truthfully.

Her proximity to the headmaster and the touching of his bare, private skin had caused a thrum of arousal, but she wasn't completely sure that it was the compulsion. Hermione had a horrible feeling that it might just be her own desire, which was a complicated thought, considering their relative positions. She couldn't help but remember the time they had made love, when neither of them had required it.

Like lovers, he had said. It had certainly felt real enough.

"Let's get to Grimmauld," she continued, taking his hand and giving it a gentle tug towards the fire.

-xxx-

It took Severus less than a second to realise that he had made a grievous error in stepping through the Floo connection with his usually severely-buttoned frock coat gaping open. Lupin's eyes were on him straight away, looking him up and down in astonishment.

"Have you been running, Severus?" he asked, teasing, but with a sharp question inherent behind it.

"Just removing my coat, Lupin, for it is now June and the weather is warm," he replied, drily, taking off the garment and hanging it on the cloak stand by the kitchen door, and congratulating himself silently that he remembered to fasten his fucking trousers, otherwise there could have been far worse things hanging out than his shirt-tails.

Hermione had walked over to greet Kingsley and Audrina, but other than them, no one else was yet present. He was certain that Lupin was sniffing the air, however well he was disguising it. Oh, the wolf suspected that he was interfering with Granger, he was fairly sure about that, but he found himself in no hurry to reveal the extent of their private shame. At the moment, all Severus could think of was the little witch sucking his cock, exquisitely tentative, and how luminous she had looked with his spunk around her mouth. It was a disgusting thought, but as much as he berated himself, the bastard image would not go away.

The fire glowed green behind him, and he quickly moved out of the way as Minerva and Pomona both tumbled through, and Sprout was effusively glad to see Lupin, hugging him and ruffling his hair as if he were still an eleven-year-old in her Herbology class, not a heavily-scarred man of nearly forty.

The two professors were quickly followed by Fleur, accompanied surprisingly by a red-headed young man, surely the one surviving Weasley, who was carrying what appeared to be a very small, but very alive, dragon under his arm, who was currently coughing out ash from the journey by Floo.

Charles Weasley patted the animal on the back, calling him 'Garth' and encouraging him to cough up the powder and ash that the stupid creature had inhaled. Granger was straight over there in a flash, swinging herself upon Weasley who was forced to pass the dragon to Fleur, who seemed equally as adept at handling it, to accept her embrace, lifting her right off her feet. Granger even wrapped her legs around him, such was the enthusiasm of her greeting.

Severus was struck with a strange urge to yank her out of the newcomer's arms, not wanting her body that close to any wizard that was not himself. This was clearly ridiculous, since she neither belonged to him, nor were they in any kind of 'relationship'. The words jealous bastard began to torment him from the dank recesses of his mind, and he quickly forced them back there, showing an unwarranted interest in the tiny dragon, instead. Fleur was cradling it as if it were a large, slightly unruly and rather scaly house-cat.

"Charlie," Hermione was saying, her eyes shining with tears, "I'm so sorry … what happened to your family …"

Charles hugged her tightly again, and thankfully her feet were now back on the ground.

"We'll get the bastards responsible, Hermione," he replied, vehemently. "I won't rest until I've avenged every last one of my brothers, Mum, Dad and Ginny. And Harry! Harry was like a brother to all of us, including you."

"Shall we sit?" Lupin asked. "Everyone is here."

There was a scraping of chairs against stone as every witch and wizard took a seat around the large wooden table in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. The meeting began with he, Minerva and Pomona reporting exactly what had come to pass during Dolores Umbridge's first speech as Minister, that they had attended in the Ministry atrium. There were shocked faces and gasps of despair as their tale progressed, Charlie putting a protective arm around Fleur's shoulders as she realised that the indictment that had been made would affect her, being part-Veela.

"It ees a good job I am already dying my 'air for work," she sniffed. "I cannot be recognised as a Veela without zee blonde couleur. I look completely 'uman. No one would suspect!"

"Fleur," Minerva asked, "we cannot go any further without asking you if you saw Filius Flitwick arrive at Gringotts? Was he accepted? What has become of him?"

"Goblins, zey are little batardes, uhhh, bast-ards, you know?"

Everyone nodded.

"Zey do not care for anyone 'oo is not a goblin. Zere are only five witches working at the bank, including me. Zey were very un'appy to 'ave ze little professor. But, Feelius, 'ee is okay. Ze goblins like zat 'ee carries a wand and 'ave made space for 'im in zere quarters, next to Gringotts."

"Well, that's something," Minerva replied, her mouth pursed tightly in disapproval at the treatment of her friend and colleague. "But it cannot be right that such a highly-qualified, intelligent wizard, is being held prisoner with a group of goblins."

Lupin shuddered as Severus continued, advising him that the indictment included werewolves, and that not even Greyback, with all his dark connections, had survived the cull. It had been indicated that more werewolves would likely be turned in by Snatchers, if they were not caught by Aurors, as a huge price had been placed upon their heads.

"I should imagine my price is the highest of all," Lupin muttered. "And what of my son? Is there any threat to Teddy? He is part-werewolf, after all, even if he shows no signs."

The table fell silent at his salient point, and it was an awful hush that fell before Kingsley's deep voice finally broke the silence.

"I should imagine that Umbridge will leave no stone unturned in her search for you, and that it is entirely probable that your son will be sought under the new legislation, due to his parentage," he announced, unwillingly. "I suggest that the child is brought to a place of safety without delay."

The panic on Lupin's face was clear to see, and he rose from his chair as if he meant to go hurtling out of the door that very moment to go and collect his son.

"Don't be stupid, Lupin," Severus admonished. "I will go."

"You cannot go, Severus. Andromeda still believes you to be aligned with the dark, she will attack you on sight. Audrina and I shall go, Remus, write a letter that we can take with us so that she trusts us, and will allow us to bring the child here, and herself too, if she wishes to stay with him."

Lupin summoned parchment and quill and began to scratch away immediately. Merlin, the wolf's handwriting was even worse than his own. Whilst he was writing, the small dragon wriggled itself free from Fleur's arms, and tottered down the centre of the large table, providing a moment of blessed relief as it hiccupped a small blast of fire, and managed to inadvertently light the candle on the centrepiece.

Granger asked Weasley about the dragon, and a tall story ensued about a breeding programme for Romanian Longhorns, this one being a genetic anomaly, and its subsequent life path as the world's first domestically-kept dragon. Severus fought to keep the smirk from his face as the tiny green dragon with the sparking gold horns faced down Minerva, expectantly, and the stern professor eyeballed it straight back, before finally relenting and handing over a palmful of meaty cat treats that were secreted within the pocket of her robes. Everyone else laughed openly and her disgruntled expression, and Garth's satisfied one.

At length, Lupin's letter was complete and the Shacklebolts Apparated from just outside the back-garden door, after Snape had confirmed the Fidelius charm also contained the garden.

A concerned silence fell across the room. Either they were about to be joined by a half-werewolf, half-Metamorphmagus baby … or Umbridge's new half-breed control team would have found them first.