Chapter 27

Remus was distracted from his task of warming Teddy's bottle of magical baby formula milk in a saucepan on the Grimmauld Place stove, when the loud crack of Apparition sounded outside the back door that led to the garden. He drew his wand defensively, cradling Teddy in the opposite arm as the door handle pressed down – the wand of the late-night visitor must have been recognised by the wards set upon the house, and thankfully it was Hermione who fell into the warm kitchen, dragging a scared-looking young girl behind her whom Remus did not recognise, although he wondered if he'd taught her at any point. Neither of them looked injured, although their faces were pale with shock, and the unknown witch's eyes were red from weeping.

"Remus, oh my goodness!"

Hermione threw herself into his free arm and he wrapped it around her, feeling her shaking body through his own as he held her tightly. She wasn't crying, but breathing heavily as if she'd been running, or had been scared out of her wits. She let him go as quickly as she'd attached herself, taking hold of the girl with the white-blonde hair and guiding her into one of the tall wooden chairs that were set around the long kitchen table.

"Tea?" he enquired, pointing his wand at the almost-full kettle that was still warm on the stove, having been recently boiled to warm Teddy's milk.

"I think so," she muttered, gratefully, sitting next to the girl and grabbing her hand. "This is Orla, the other Muggle-born that stayed at Hogwarts, the one we told you about."

"Not so Muggle-born now," said Orla, ruefully, shaking her head in distress.

"We'll come to that, I promise," Hermione replied, gently. "But first, this is Remus Lupin, and his son, Teddy. You can trust him."

"I remember Professor Lupin," the girl interjected, a small smile of greeting curling one side of her mouth. "You taught me Defence in my third year, Sir, I was in Hufflepuff."

"Of course," he responded, politely, although if truth be known he couldn't remember her, he'd been rather too pre-occupied with Gryffindors, Slytherins, Dementors and escapees from Azkaban the year he had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

"We are in my house in London," Hermione explained. "It's Secret-Kept, protected under a Fidelius charm, so no one can find us here unless we personally give over the address. Remus lives here, because … well, I'm sure you know why."

"Werewolves are about as popular as Muggle-borns under Minister Umbridge's rule, eh, Sir?"

"Absolutely," he agreed, hearing the strong Irish accent in her voice, and sending two mugs of hot, sweet tea over to the girls with a discreet flourish of his wand. "And Remus is fine, no need for Sir. I'm certainly not your professor any longer."

She nodded, and he joined them at the table, Teddy's milk now adequately heated on the stove-top, for some things could not be done by magic and heating baby formula was one of them. Sitting opposite Hermione he held his blue-haired son in the crook of his arm with practised ease and offered the grumbling bundle his night-time feed, which Teddy took eagerly, suckling at the warm milk in the bottle. Not for the first time, Remus felt a pang of regret that his wonderful son was missing the experience of feeding at his mother's breast, having to make do with substitute bottles and teats in a cruel mockery of what should have been his natural, loving time with the witch who gave birth to him.

When Teddy was settled and feeding, Remus turned his attention back to the two girls, who both looked terrified, now that he observed them properly.

"What is going on, Hermione? I did not expect you back from school for a while yet, surely the exams have only just finished?"

"We don't finish until next week, but Severus, er … Professor Snape, thought it prudent that I left the castle for good after my final exam. He believes that now my education is complete, Voldemort might begin wanting a greater hand in my 'training', and that it was safer for me to flee now, rather than wait unnecessarily."

"And Miss, er … ?"

He waved his hand vaguely, realising he could not remember Orla's surname.

"I don't even know what my name is, or what it should be any more. I was Miss Roach, but just call me Orla," the Irish girl said, cryptically.

Hermione began to explain everything that had happened that evening. How she had been summoned with Severus to an emergency meeting of the Death Eaters, where it was dramatically revealed that this girl Orla had been captured, found by Rodolphus Lestrange after running away from Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy.

The blonde girl had begun to cry at this point, as the tale unfolded, Hermione telling him how they'd been discovered hiding in the Muggle world, because Lestrange had put Narcissa Malfoy under an Imperius curse, and how it had transpired, under Voldemort's questioning, that Lucius Malfoy had engaged in an affair with Orla's mother before she met her husband, resulting in the birth of a child, meaning that Orla and Draco were half-siblings.

"So that makes you a Malfoy then, not a Muggle-born?" Lupin had asked her, looking for a little positivity in the situation, although if one wanted wizarding blood, Malfoy would not be anyone's first choice.

"It also makes me someone whose been sleeping with their brother," she replied, weeping in earnest now.

"Remus – Draco was killed tonight," Hermione revealed, to his shock and horror. "When he found out that he and Orla were brother and sister, he let Voldemort have every bit of anger that he must have been holding inside. Draco called him terrible names, all deserved of course, but then he lunged at him, and … and Nagini … she leapt at Draco and brought him down. She tore his throat out. You know … the same thing that happened to Neville."

Hermione's face was red with shock and sadness as she continued to explain the events of the evening. Remus mused that pacing the floor for hours with Teddy suddenly seemed a more preferable occupation than trying to unravel the mess that was now sitting in the Grimmauld kitchen.

"She's leaving out the most important bit," Orla sobbed, her voice catching. "Hermione killed the snake. Stabbed it right through the neck."

Lupin's eyes flew open wide in surprise.

"You killed Nagini?"

"I did," Hermione confirmed. "I was just standing there, watching and horrified, when the Sword of Gryffindor appeared in my hand, the way it did for Neville in the courtyard, and for Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, all those years ago, and I knew what I needed to do. I knew the sword could destroy Horcruxes, I had to do it."

"And then what?" he asked, still incredulous at everything he was hearing, it was wonderful and terrible news, both at the same time.

"I grabbed Orla's arm and came here."

"You mean this has just happened – mere minutes ago?"

They both nodded.

"Well. I don't know what to say," he replied. "I can't believe it. The final Horcrux, destroyed. You are astonishing, Hermione. But, where is the sword?"

"I left it stuck in the snake. If we'd waited a second longer then the Death Eaters would have shrugged out of their shock and I would have been brought down, for certain."

"And Severus?"

"He is still there. He had no idea what I was going to do, well, I certainly didn't, so there's no way he could have. There was no time to make any plans."

"No doubt he will be questioned, perhaps harshly," Lupin opined, setting his mouth in a grim line.

The fear returned to her face, and her hands flew to her mouth.

"Could he get in trouble for what I did?"

"You were supposedly under his control, Hermione," Lupin replied, gently, so as not to unduly alarm her. "He will need to prove that he knew nothing about your true intentions."

"But, how will he do that?"

"Severus is an excellent actor, and an accomplished spy and double-agent who has walked the line between the Light and the Dark for many years now. His Occlumency is also second-to-none. If anyone can fool the Dark Lord, it is Severus Snape."

"But, what if he can't? Remus, what if he can't? What happens if he's forced to tell the truth?"

Lupin swallowed hard. There was no point in giving the girl false hope, or sugar-coating the situation, so he simply told the truth.

"The only reassurance I can give you, Hermione, is that Severus would rather die than betray those to whom he is loyal. It took me twenty years to learn than, but now I know this with absolute certainty. He will either keep you safe, or he will die in the attempt."

He watched her face crumple with a deeply personal, viscerally real distress that he had not expected to see.

-xxx-

The bodies of Draco Malfoy and Nagini twitched their last, both unquestionably dead, along with Voldemort's final Horcrux. The Dark Lord was still on his knees, bellowing in what seemed like physical pain, louder than Severus had ever heard him. Did something inside him feel the death of the Horcrux? Or was this simply blind fury that his attempts to achieve immortality had finally been wrenched from him, and by a teenage Muggle-born that he derided, no less?

Narcissa was kneeling in the pool of blood, uncaring of the gore, as she clutched the lifeless arm of her son, weeping. Lucius had tried to edge her away, but she was having none of it, ordering her philandering husband to get away from her, out of her sight, for ever.

In truth, Severus felt little sympathy for her. Enjoying the trappings of his wealth, Narcissa had allowed Lucius' behaviour to run riot, to turn a blind eye to previous dalliances, for he had no doubt that she either knew or at least suspected about others, and put up with his descent into the realms of dark magic until she was so intrinsically linked herself that it was impossible to escape. The Black family had been wealthy, of course, but their riches were nothing compared to that of the Malfoys, and Narcissa had made by far the best marriage out of the three sisters.

However, finding out that her husband had been cheating on her during a time of great stress in their marriage, when they were attempting to conceive their first child, and then to discover all these years later that the affair had in fact sired a daughter, must be particularly galling. At present, she was a grieving mother. The fuller implications of Lucius' affair, and the public revealing of her husband to be the genetic father of the illegitimate Orla Roach, now her father's sole heir, would no doubt encroach upon their lives soon enough.

"Severus!"

The Dark Lord's voice rang out across the room, immediately silencing the Malfoys' wails and the Death Eaters' shocked chatter. Snape felt a plummeting feeling in his stomach as he began to approach the raised platform, where Voldemort was getting to his feet, and tidying his robes, as if his fit of screaming pique had not happened.

"Severus," he repeated, beckoning with a single, bony finger.

Snape reached the platform and dropped to one knee in supplication.

"My Lord."

"Rise, Severus. Rise, and explain to me why your Mudblood, who was meant to be fully under your control, has just revealed herself to be the holder of the Sword of Gryffindor and run my precious snake through?"

Suspecting that Voldemort would most likely be on the very edge of insanity, Severus swallowed hard and composed himself both internally and externally before answering in what he hoped was a smooth, neutral fashion.

"I know not, My Lord. I am just as shocked and appalled as you are. The Mudblood has done nothing to make me suspect she was anything but compliant, and that she was devoted in her intention to learn our ways and join the side of the Dark."

"You did not notice she was concealing a sword? The girl was undressed, no doubt you had just been fucking the filthy whore, how could she have hidden a weapon of that size from you?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor, My Lord, is a semi-sentient magical artefact. It has the capability to present itself to any Gryffindor who it deems worthy, and in great need."

There was a look of unwilling confusion on Voldemort's face as he processed the given information, as he realised that he could not argue with magic. The sword had known that it was needed to kill the Horcrux, and had considered Miss Granger a worthy recipient. He could not make further protestations without inadvertently revealing before the assembled Death Eaters that Nagini was not only a snake, but the living vessel that contained the final piece of his shattered soul, leaving only a small sliver that was left inside his own, malformed, corporeal body.

Without warning, the Dark Lord Legilimised into Severus' mind, forcing him to his knees with the pain of his forced entry. He had been Occluding since Hermione had Apparated away, attempting to tidy away anything that may incriminate them, or suggest they had any relationship beyond the presumed abusive one where he was repeatedly taking advantage of his student.

He felt Voldemort's interest as he rifled through Severus' memories of their sexual encounters like a rampant hunter crashing through the undergrowth to reach its prey, uncaring of what it destroyed in his path.

Snape pushed the more salacious encounters forwards for immediate perusal, since the Dark Lord was not known for his patience – the spanking, taking her from behind, pinning her roughly against the wall or window ledge. He hid the tender kisses, their whispered words of consent and support, him brewing and providing her with a regular contraceptive potion, and conjuring bruises and marks on her skin to imply he'd been mistreating her.

He had some entirely false memories of him instructing Granger in the Dark Arts, that he had been working on for weeks, in the event of just such an intrusion as this. He was seen to be speaking to her of the seductive nature of dark magic, encouraging her to open herself to its enticing allure, and he felt Voldemort's approval. Thank fuck for that, the psychotic bastard actually seemed to believe the false memories, that was at least something.

Riddle pulled out of his mind as viciously as he'd entered it, leaving Severus reeling on the floor with the pain of his swift exit, as if he'd pulled a long, sharp blade from his skull and was now bleeding out through his eyes.

"Death Eaters, hear this! No stone is to be left unturned in the search for Miss Malfoy, and Potter's Mudblood! Both are to be brought before me alive and unharmed. The young witch is to be returned to her father, where she will be educated in our ways, and the responsibilities and privileges that come with her noble blood.

Narcissa, rise! You have lost your son, but this was through his own foolish attempts at heroism. He should have known that my beloved Nagini would always leap to my defence, and he has paid for that stupidity with his life. However, in my benevolence and forgiveness, I shall allow you to take Draco's body and give it a funeral as you see fit.

In return, you will accept Lucius' daughter into your home and raise her as your own, for the girl's natural mother is dead. You will change her name to Malfoy, and she will take your son's place among the Death Eaters and within your family."

Narcissa nodded meekly, and rose to her feet looking utterly defeated.

"Lucius! I believe that the less said about the incestuous relationship between your children, the better. Your son is dead, and therefore nothing can be gained from discussing it further. We shall not speak of it again. Take your wife, and your son's body, and leave me."

There was an ugly scene as Lucius and Narcissa extricated Draco's body from the lifeless, locked jaws of Nagini and were forced to Apparate it away in two separate, bloody pieces. Severus could not help but feel great regret for his young Slytherin who had, in the end, really had no choice about the direction his life had taken. What a waste, such a terrible waste of a boy who had much potential, especially academically, to have it squandered by the mess his father had created with his lust for dark magic, power, and for witches who were not his wife.

"Macnair!" Voldemort's voice cut through his thoughts. "You are to return to Hogwarts with your brothers who are stationed there, and advise them that Headmaster Snape will not be returning … just at this moment. He has to prove himself worthy before I allow him to retake his high office. Put that wretched Gryffindor cat in charge, appoint her interim Headmistress, but with you by her side at every moment, do you understand?"

"I understand completely, My Lord, and will return now and put all your instructions in place."

Macnair bowed obsequiously, and Apparated away, followed by the other Death Eaters who were also stationed at the school – including Rabastan Lestrange, who looked mightily pissed off at his brother's elevation to the Dark Lord's side, whilst he had to return to the indignity of the Hogwarts greenhouses and the supervision of Professor Sprout's Herbology lessons.

Voldemort turned to the other Death Eaters; the ones who worked in the Ministry in high-ranking department head positions, and the remaining few who were stationed around the country in secret places such as international Apparation points, wizarding checkpoints and marshalling Snatchers.

"You may all return to your positions. Travers, please advise Minister Umbridge that Headmaster Snape will be … on sabbatical for an indefinite, but hopefully short, period of time, and that I have placed a substitute headteacher in the role."

Multiple cracks of Apparition were heard as every other person left the dimly-lit stone cellar, leaving Severus alone with Voldemort, who was staring at the dead body of Nagini on the floor, the flow of blood from the huge wound on her neck that had much such an enormous pool on the floor, finally stopped. There was an unbearable silence, and Severus wrenched himself up from the floor, where he had crashed with a blinding pain after Voldemort had left his mind so viciously.

He stood almost the same height as the Dark Lord, they were evenly matched, and their eyes met, Severus' black ones to Voldemort's red, and there they opposed one another, supposedly master and servant, but in truth, deadly enemies.

"I have seen your mind, Severus," he began, speaking slowly with the tone of his voice ominously quiet, "and I am not entirely convinced that you can be trusted. I wonder if you have not developed an inappropriate liking for the charms of your Mudblood slut?"

"My Lord, I have not …"

"Silence. There is no need for your excuses, nor for you to attempt to slither out of trouble, since there is a very easy way for me to discover your true loyalties. You are a Slytherin, and the most important character trait of a Slytherin is self-preservation. You will not protect anyone's life above that of your own. I know this, for what Slytherin would? Therefore, you will stay here until the compulsion next comes upon you. If you know where the Mudblood is, you will no doubt go and find her to assuage your lust and save your own life. If you truly do not know, you will be driven to madness and eventual death from the demands of an unsatisfied curse."

Severus narrowed his eyes, trying to disguise how fast his brain was working by keeping as neutral an expression as he could manage, despite his current panic.

"So, I either prove myself a traitor by seeking out the Mudblood, or I prove myself loyal by staying here and dying before you?"

As always, the Dark Lord's logic, and respect for human life, was impeccable.

"That would seem to be the case, Severussss."

"My Lord, I promise you, I feel nothing for the Mudblood other than the physical desire that the curse compels me to."

"You will prove that," Voldemort hissed, "now, let us go up into the main house, for you are my guest. You are free to leave only when you wish to seek relief from your Mudblood, else you will stay here. Your responsibilities at her school have been deputised. And then we will see, Severus, see if your loyalty to me is as complete as you insist."

-xxx-

Hermione and Orla were in two single beds, separated by a chunky wooden bedside cabinet where they had placed a candle to provide them with a little light. It was the same room that Hermione had shared many times with Ginny, when they'd been staying here. Brave, wonderful Ginny; a feisty witch who would have gone far in life, had she not been cut down on a whim by Voldemort, simply for displaying her distress at the murder of her boyfriend, unknowingly starting the carnage that had erupted in the courtyard and the subsequent slaughter of her entire family.

Remus had returned to his bedroom, taking Teddy with him, who had fallen asleep on his bottle, and Lupin was hoping for a few more hours sleep before the baby woke up hungry again. Hermione and Orla had both purloined a t-shirt from Remus to sleep in, since neither of them had any clothes other than the ones they stood up in, and Hermione didn't even have any underwear, embarrassingly. It could be dealt with in the morning, hopefully with clearer heads than they had now.

They faced each other, faces glowing softly in the candlelight; the familiar creak of the old beds and linens cocooning them towards sleep.

"Did you love him?" Hermione asked, sensing that Orla needed to talk, even though her eyes filled with tears yet again at the question.

"I don't know. We've just had the most wonderful time together since we ran from the school. I certainly liked him very much. He'd never said he loved me either, not until … just then."

"I suppose the fear made him admit his true feelings."

"Probably," she admitted. "I could have quite easily loved him, Hermione. He isn't anything like the Draco Malfoy that used to strut around the school like an entitled arsehole."

"I'm sure he isn't. It was a brave thing he did, to flee the castle."

Orla nodded, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"He is so brave. I never would have thought it. When he covered his Dark Mark with that tattoo … the pain was immense, and so sustained, but he bore it so well. He never once considered giving up, he just wanted to hide … to hide us."

There was a long silence.

"We can't return to Hogwarts, Orla. Neither of us. The only place we can be safe is here, until the Dark Lord is defeated."

"Like that is ever going to happen, now Harry Potter is gone."

Hermione winced at the mention of her best friend.

"We are already closer than you think. Killing the snake was a huge deal, and I'll explain why tomorrow, when we are less tired and emotional. We have a resistance effort going on here, a resurgence of the Order of the Phoenix, and unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which way you look at it, you're going to have to join us. You've been inside this house, and therefore by default you've become a Secret-Keeper."

"That's fine. I have no intention of running out. I'll do whatever you need to me to do."

"That's the spirit."

"We need clothes though, Hermione," she grimaced.

"We'll get them. I'll speak to Professor Snape tomorrow."

"Snape? What will that bastard do for us?"

"He's on our side, Orla."

Orla sat up straight in bed, her eyes wide, knocking one of the pillows to the floor in her scrambled haste.

"He never is?"

"He always has been," Hermione murmured, snuggling down into her own pillows and pulling the covers under her chin in an attempt to warm away the chill that was pervading through her bones.

"But, he was using you? Like Yaxley was with me?"

Hermione shook her head, a tight smile on her lips, not wanting it to look like she was gloating that she'd received the better treatment.

"He never once hurt me. We were pretending."

Orla's mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish.

"Well. Well I never did. Professor Snape a good wizard? I'd never have believed it. Let's hope he doesn't get in the shite with Voldemort then, you know, after you killed the snake and Apparated out with me. If you're supposed to belong to him, the Death Eaters might think he had something to do with what you did," she reasoned, sliding back down in her bed and under her own covers.

Hermione blew out the candle and wished her tentative new friend a good night, her mind now spinning with Orla's last statement.

How could she have not thought of this before?

It wouldn't have changed her actions, of course, the snake needed to be killed; the arrival of the Sword of Gryffindor was testament to that, but how would this reflect on Snape? She had left him there among the Death Eaters in that cold cellar; the Dark Lord and his dying final Horcrux before him. It was entirely possible, probable even, that he would be forced to bear some blame or responsibility for her actions.

Hermione closed her eyes, desperate for the sweet release of sleep, for she would not be able to find out anything until Snape contacted them, which would hopefully be tomorrow. There was only a finite amount of time before his double-strength compulsion curse began to affect him.