Chapter 41

Orla opened the curtains the following morning, and let out a shriek of fright that woke not only the baby, but his father, too. Carrying Teddy, Remus quickly joined her at the window where she stood, motionless, hand over her mouth in fear, as if to stop further sound from escaping.

"Look," she hissed, urgently, pointing down into the central green square, filled with trees, bushes and park benches, that the houses of Grimmauld Place were built around. "There is no way they're Muggles, and I don't like the look of them."

Remus craned around her to see what she was pointing at.

A group of half-a-dozen men, clearly wizards, were milling around in front of the house, from just across the road, so it looked as if they were merely loitering by the park square. They were looking intently at the seam that joined the walls between the Muggle dwellings of number eleven and number thirteen.

"They are Aurors," he explained, "and they either know or suspect that we are here. Twelve Grimmauld Place is registered as Hermione's address, but because of the Fidelius Charm it cannot be discovered. However, there is nothing to stop anyone from waiting near where they believe the dwelling to be, in case one of the presumed residents step outside the wards of the charm."

"Who are they seeking?" she asked, not reassured by this information.

"I should imagine that their primary target is Hermione, since this is her property, but I would also hazard a guess that the Aurors believe you and I are here also, especially with the timing being a day after our marriage was registered."

"Why would they think that?"

"Because you and Hermione were in a similar situation at Hogwarts, and both of you absconded within a few weeks of each other. Therefore the two of you are known to have a connection, and since our bonding certificate is now filed at the Ministry, I suspect they believe, quite correctly, that I am in hiding here too."

The news wasn't getting any better. Orla stroked Teddy's chubby little leg, absentmindedly, and Remus put his arm around her shoulders.

"What can we do now? I'm scared, Remus."

"We continue to do exactly what we have been. Our security here has not been compromised, and we are as safe as we ever were, provided we remain within the charmed wards of the house. We cannot be detected, even as they appear to be staring right at us, they cannot see that number twelve exists at all."

"This is horrible."

"I know," he agreed, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Don't stand here looking at them, they will only make us nervous. We're all awake now, I say we head to the kitchen and feed this young man, and then make us both a good, strong cup of tea."

Orla smiled weakly in agreement, and allowed her new husband to lead her out of the bedroom and onto the staircase. They creaked downstairs and into the kitchen, where she headed straight to the opposite end of the room to pour a kettle of fresh water and put it on the stove to boil.

She never got that far.

As Orla filled the kettle from the tap, she gazed absently from the large window that looked out over the Grimmauld Place garden, and an unexpected and most unwelcome sight met her eyes. It was her father, standing motionless, his ice-blue eyes staring, but unseeing, in the long, narrow alleyway that ran along the back of all the houses on this side of the square.

Frozen with fear and unable to scream, she backed away from the window in horror, the tin kettle hanging uselessly from her hand. Remus saw her reaction, so deposited Teddy quickly but safely in the kitchen cradle and rushed to her side, relieving her of the kettle before it clattered to the floor.

"What? Orla, what has happened? Tell me."

She lifted a hand and pointed to where Lucius Malfoy stood, staring in the window as if he were looking straight at her, his white-blond hair glinting in the morning sunshine, and his long, snake-topped cane malevolently tapping the pavement beneath his feet.

"He is here," she replied, eyes wide with fear.

"Malfoy," Remus confirmed, holding the girl tightly against him and feeling her tremble. "He has come to look for you himself."

"I won't go with him," Orla said, defiantly. "I don't want to be his daughter, and don't want him having anything to do with Hope."

"He cannot see you. He does not know where you are, he only suspects. If we do not step outside the Fidelius charm he can never find you. He has come to frighten you."

"He's doing a bloody good job!"

"What's happening?" Hermione called, having entered the kitchen, looking sleepy.

"We have been discovered," Remus told her, simply.

"What?"

"There are Aurors outside the front of the house, hanging around the square, and Orla has just had the pleasure of finding her father out the back."

"Oh, my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying to the kitchen window as if to ascertain that Lucius Malfoy was, in fact, lurking outside her invisible back garden.

"Remus has told me that they can't get to us as long as we stay inside," Orla added. "That's right, isn't it, Hermione?"

She felt sick and scared and needed the reassurance. If Remus was found, he would be instantly put to death under the werewolf cull, and goodness knows what would happen to little Teddy. The most she had to fear was being taken to a plush manor and forced to live there – their situations were barely comparable. Not for the first time since she'd heard the news, Orla breathed a sigh of relief that the biological father of her unborn child was dead. Lucius could think that Hope was Draco's daughter all he wanted, but that could never be proved, now.

"When Harry, Ron and I were hiding out here, at the beginning of seventh year when we didn't return to school, there were all manner of Death Eaters and corrupt Aurors loitering outside. They seemed to have a schedule so that the post was always manned. The Fidelius charm held, though, and we used to regularly come and go using the front step, Apparating under Harry's invisibility cloak. I promise you, we are quite safe here."

Hermione's calm answer provided Orla with a small amount of reassurance. After all, if she and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had used the front door and still not been discovered, that had to mean they were all safe in here now, surely?

"Ok," she replied, trying to gather some courage that she did not feel. "We'll just stay here. We won't go anywhere. It will all be alright."

"You must leave for a short period, Orla," Remus reminded her, "for the full moon is tonight, and you both must go to Shell Cottage again, taking Teddy with you."

"No! Why can't we stay here? I can look after Teddy. Please, Remus, I don't want to leave you."

"You know that cannot happen. If I were to detect your scent whilst transformed … I cannot bear to think about what I might do to either of you, or to my son."

"I wanted to brew Wolfsbane!" she shot back, aware that she was sounding a little petulant. "I wanted to help you, even before I married you!"

"I know you did, Orla. If and when all this is over, I am sure that we can arrange for Severus or Professor Slughorn to teach you how to brew it," he replied. "However, there have been more important things for Severus to do than teach you how to relieve my aggravating symptoms."

"It's more than just an aggravating symptom, Remus," she observed, slightly narked at his answer.

He sighed, and pulled her back against him where she had worked herself free from his arms in irritation.

"We will address that in the future," he answered, his expression resigned and absolute. "For now, we sit tight. Severus will be requesting an audience with Voldemort today, Hermione, will he not?"

"That's the plan," Hermione replied, looking at them both with concern. "After that, what happens will be anyone's guess."

-xxx-

Severus sat back in his office chair, terrified but exhilarated after his private meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt. His Order colleague had paid him a personal visit exceptionally early that morning, for an additional plan had come to him during the night. Kingsley wanted to attempt to provoke Dolores Umbridge into making him Deputy Minister for Magic.

Minister Umbridge currently had no deputy, suggesting either great narcissism, in that she believed she did not need one, or else she did not trust anyone enough to give them the role. Kingsley needed to get himself promoted to deputy, as if the remainder of their plans were successful, Shacklebolt would then be ideally placed to protect and rebuild the Ministry from the inside. The future was always at the forefront of their plans.

Between them, they had concocted an audacious plan, where Kingsley would attempt to persuade Umbridge that Snape was about to double-cross her to Voldemort. He would explain that he, Kingsley, had received covert information that Snape planned to reveal before the Dark Lord her reforms that had been passed without Voldemort's express permission.

This would run concurrent with Severus' attempt to do exactly that.

If they were both successful, it would set Umbridge and Voldemort in direct opposition, leaving the way clear for a takeover whilst they were both preoccupied. The Dark Lord could be killed by anyone's wand, and once they had managed to provoke him out into the open, with plenty of witnesses to observe, Snape would cast the Avada Kedavra himself, if needs be, and if no one else did it first. That bastard had to die, and if Umbridge went down too … well, he doubted anyone would cry at her funeral.

Severus was now awaiting Shacklebolt's report on the outcome of the meeting. Once received, he would need to get going, immediately, for there would be no time to lose.

The lynx Patronus arrived in his office almost two hours later, speaking with Shacklebolt's deep, distinctive voice.

"It is done. I have been made Deputy. I shall advise her to secure the Ministry after the summons, if this happens as you predict."

Severus did not reply. It would be madness to send his own Patronus bouncing into the Ministry of Magic, seeking Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had just advised Umbridge that Severus Snape was a traitor. No, there was no reply to send. It was time to put his side of the plan into action and hope for the best.

Attempting to not think too deeply on the good sense of what he was doing, Severus pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark branded on his left arm, sending a request for an audience with Voldemort through the Protean connection. He had always assumed it would be a cold day in hell if he ever voluntarily entered the company of the Dark Lord, but it seemed that day had finally come.

The connection made, Snape had no choice but to then pace his office until a reply was received. No doubt Riddle would keep him waiting for having the audacity to contact him first.

Surprisingly, the fierce burn of Voldemort's reply hit his arm only a few minutes later. His request for an audience had been accepted. Now all he needed to do was play this right. He twisted into his Apparition.

-xxx-

"Severus," he greeted, not rising from his armchair before the fire.

"My Lord," he answered, quickly crossing the drawing room of the Riddle House and kneeling at Voldemort's feet, hoping that soon he would not be forced to bow and scrape before this bastard dictator.

"It is most unusual, Severus, for you to request an audience with me. Lord Voldemort is concerned. I trust that all is well?"

Snape couldn't help noticing that the Dark Lord looked thinner and paler than ever, the white skin on his face had become so translucent that every vein was clearly visible, pulsing blue under the papery-thin epidermis. The fire in the huge grate was set to roaring, despite the warm August weather, suggesting that Voldemort was chilled to the bone and needed the extra heat. Wondering if the loss of his final Horcrux had led to this deterioration of his physical condition and if there was a chance he might just die, Severus pressed ahead with his reason for visiting.

"Thank you, My Lord, I am quite well. But I requested a moment of your valuable time today for I have received instructions that concern me. I hope that I do not speak out of turn, for of course I shall obey any orders of which you approve, but what I have been given … well, I am unsure that these commands have been explicitly sanctioned by you."

Voldemort's slit-eyes narrowed even further.

"Continue," he commanded, with a cursory wave of his long-fingernailed hand.

"Minister Umbridge has presented me with written instructions of changes that are to be implemented at Hogwarts, effective from the start of the new term, which commences on the first of next month. These changes have given me some cause for concern, as whilst they have specified some new privileges and considerations for purebloods, this is to the denigration of the half-blood students."

"Denigration? What do you mean?"

"Minister Umbridge is keen to reduce the status of half-bloods, starting at the school, but she has given me clear indication that this is to filter through into adult society through reduced salaries, higher taxation, marriage restrictions and prejudice in employment opportunities. For example, I have been advised that my headmaster's salary will be reduced due to my half-blood status, and that my tax deductions will become higher."

"You must be mistaken, Severus. The Minister would not pass such legislation. Dolores Umbridge has been given the placating gift of a little power to invoke only simple, meaningless laws that do not concern me, such as her werewolf cull and her amusing little crusade against half-breeds, which seem to offend her greatly."

They certainly concern those people who are affected by her 'little crusades', you selfish bastard, Severus thought.

"With respect, My Lord, the laws reducing the status of half-bloods have already been passed. The Minister has passed me the documentation pertaining to what new procedures I must implement at the school, and she personally advised that she has explicit permission from you to run the country as she sees fit, that is, without prior consultation."

Watching Voldemort's stark-white face flush with colour, Severus hoped he hadn't gone too far. But this was do-or-die. He had no choice but to hang this bitch out to dry, to force her into direct opposition with the Dark Lord, so that Kingsley could seize control whilst her back was turned and her attentions elsewhere.

"Let me see," he demanded, holding out his bony arm for the paperwork.

Severus passed him the entire package of parchments, summoning a table to stand directly in front of his chair, so he could spread the instructions out and examine them in comfort.

"Sit, Severus," Voldemort ordered, after reading the first page, it appeared with some difficulty, and Snape wondered if his eyes were failing him.

There was silence for a very long time, as the Dark Lord perused every single page of the directions that Umbridge had given him of the changes that he must make at Hogwarts. Voldemort made no sound, no gesture; gave no inkling of how the information was being received. For all Severus knew, it had all been pre-agreed between Riddle and Umbridge and he was about to be on the receiving end of a Crucio for having the gall to question anything.

Finally, Voldemort looked up, his eyes looking redder and bloodier than ever, possibly caused by the extensive reading.

"You are not to implement a single one of these plans, Severus," he said, devastatingly quietly, tossing the entire pile of parchments into the fire, where they hissed and spat as they were devoured by the flames.

Bingo.

"Thank you, My Lord."

"Our new Minister, whilst not being the puppet that Pius Thicknesse was, has forgotten to whom she answers. Let us remind her, shall we?"

Severus curled his mouth into a wicked smile.

"Indeed, My Lord. It would not do for any of us to abuse our privileged positions as your loyal servants."

Voldemort cast the incantation that would cause the summons to burn through all the Dark Marks of those who bore them, Snape's own included, and Severus felt the familiar pain burrow into his left forearm like a vicious foreign body, intent on causing damage. This time, however, for the first time, he did not feel fear from the summons. He felt hope.

As soon as the Death Eaters left the Ministry, Kingsley would leap into action, securing the entire building against their return, hopefully convincing Umbridge that was the only sensible thing to do.

It was not long before the Death Eaters began to arrive, many of them clearly fresh from working at the Ministry, their formal work robes pristine, apologising for their lack of Death Eater attire, which Voldemort unusually brushed away with no retribution.

"Loyal followers!" he announced, once everyone was accounted for. "It seems that we have a bad apple in our barrel! Dolores Umbridge has overstepped her remit, and has forgotten to whom she owes everything. Let us converge upon the Ministry, and remind her, shall we?"

Questions were being murmured around the room in what began as a ripple, but became a crescendo, with no one actually brave enough to ask Voldemort exactly what he wanted them to do.

"In case my meaning was unclear," he announced, tetchily, "we shall go and retake control of my Ministry, by force, if necessary. I shall place myself in the role of Minister, since it seems that no one can be trusted!"

Rodolphus Lestrange, Voldemort's supposed second-in-command, looked miserable. It seemed he had finally realised that he had the title, but none of the power.

"Excuse me, My Lord," Travers began, unctuously, "but if Umbridge is overthrown, her deputy will automatically be given the position of Minister."

"She has no deputy!" Voldemort cried. "I forbade her from appointing one."

A few of the Death Eaters shook their heads.

"Why are you shaking your heads? Speak, I command you!"

The Dark Lord looked furious, and pointed his wand at Travers to continue, who looked as if he wished he'd not bothered to open his mouth.

"She has appointed a Deputy just this morning, My Lord. A Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Who is this Shacklebolt?" Voldemort spat.

"He was the Head of the Auror Office," Travers advised. "Before this morning."

"Head of the Auror Office? But was it not arranged that all departments would have a Death Eater in the top role?"

"It was, My Lord," added Selwyn, "and that role, as Head of the MLE, was Yaxley's, before he was put in the hospital."

All eyes swung to Lucius Malfoy, for every Death Eater had seen his now-fatal attack on Yaxley. Lucius must be drugged up to the eyeballs on opiates again, for he seemed quite unconcerned that he had killed one of their own.

"The role was left open, since it was hoped that Yaxley would return, and during that time Minister Umbridge appointed Shacklebolt to the role," Selwyn finished.

"And now this Shacklebolt has risen to Deputy Minister?"

There were nods from all those who worked within the Ministry of Magic.

"Something is going on, here," hissed Riddle. "I know nothing of this wizard, and yet he has been able to rise to the second-highest position in my administration? I am most severely displeased. Let us travel as one to the Ministry, and retain my ultimate control, for these small problems, these little sparks of dissent – these could become large fires that will burn all that we have worked for."

Severus metaphorically crossed his fingers and hoped that the Dark Lord had spouted off for long enough to give Kingsley the chance to seal the Ministry again him. As the snake-faced ghoul commanded everyone to Apparate together to inside the Ministry atrium, nothing happened.

The look on Voldemort's face was worth a thousand Galleons, and Severus' heart leapt with relief and plummeted in fear at the same time, which was fucking weird.

"What is this?" Riddle demanded. "Can no one Apparate to the Ministry?"

The Death Eaters who appeared to be trying again shook their heads. Selwyn and Travers ran to the fireplace and threw in handfuls of Floo powder, calling out for their own offices, for the commuting fireplaces, anything. Nothing appeared to work. It seemed that Kingsley had been successful in persuading Umbridge that to keep her job, and most likely her life, that Lord Voldemort and all bearers of the Dark Mark needed to be prevented from entering the Ministry.

They could go nowhere. It would be no use Apparating to outside the Ministry, since a group of witches and wizards, including one with snake eyes and no nose, would incite too much attention in Muggle London. Not even Voldemort was that ignorant.

He turned to Severus, red eyes full of fury, silken black robes swinging around his thin body.

"Lure the Minister out of her hiding place, Severus," he commanded. "Request her presence at Hogwarts – hers, and all those lackeys that she surrounds herself with. Bring her out in the open, and I shall destroy her for what she has attempted to do."

"I shall My Lord," Snape replied, taking his leave and Apparating back to his office, wondering how the fuck he was going to entice Dolores Umbridge anywhere, given that she now believed he was a traitor to her regime.

It could not be revealed that he and Kingsley were working in collusion with one another, they would have to think, and fast. With the Ministry sealed, there was no time to waste.

-xxx-

Hermione and Orla were in Shell Cottage, the latter having to be pulled, sobbing, from her new husband, as he remained in Grimmauld Place to voluntarily lock himself in his own prison, within a prison, so as not cause harm to anyone else, nor be discovered himself.

The Aurors were still outside the front of the house, next to the square, different ones from this morning, although Lucius Malfoy seemed have given up his stalking of the alleyway to the rear of the property, which made Orla feel slightly better.

Remus had packed Teddy's bag and albeit shoved Orla through the Floo with it, leaving Hermione to follow with Teddy, for she was in a better emotional state to carry the baby.

Hermione had felt terrible leaving Remus, he looked haggard and gaunt, his skin marred with a grey, waxy pallor and a haunted look in his eyes as the time for his monthly transformation drew near. The only thing she could do for him was to carry his son, everything else Lupin had to bear himself.

Charlie was cooking, and Orla was seated on the floor of the living room with Teddy on her lap, being entertained by Garth, who was making noisy puffs from his nostrils and causing the baby to chuckle every time. The dramatic little dragon was enjoying every bit of the attention, not even distracted by the smell of cooking meat.

Hermione was sitting on the window seat, looking out over the deserted beach, when she was startled by the sight and sound of Apparition, right in front of her. Two people landed in a crumpled heap on the sand, and she shouted for Charlie.

Together they ran to the door of the cottage, wands drawn. As they opened it cautiously, they were amazed to see Fleur and Professor Flitwick getting to their feet, breathing heavily from their bumpy landing. Fleur's hair was its usual bright-blonde, not the brown she changed it to every day for work. She also had a large gash down the side of her face that was dripping blood.

"Oh, Charlie!" Fleur exclaimed, and without even stopping to make any further checks, he rushed forwards and took her in his arms, lifting her up as if she were not six months pregnant, but instead weighed nothing more than perhaps Garth did.

Hermione helped Flitwick to his feet, although the diminutive professor was insisting that he was alright, and not hurt.

"Get them into the cottage, Hermione, quickly!" shouted Charlie, urging everyone inside the reaches of the protective Fidelius charm.

Once inside with the door firmly locked, Charlie laid Fleur on the sofa, siphoning the blood from her head and summoning a wet cloth to press against the remaining wound. Garth was flapping around, clearly distressed that his favourite Fleur was injured, getting in Charlie's way as he tried to attend to her. Orla picked up Teddy and retreated to a squashy armchair on the other side of the room, trying to call Garth out of the way as she did so, and Hermione offered the other sofa to Flitwick, fetching him a cup of strong tea to calm his nerves.

Charlie held his hand to Fleur's abdomen, using techniques he'd learned from assisting pregnant dragons at the sanctuary, to ascertain that her baby was well, the heart was beating, and the pregnancy was not in danger of miscarrying. Even so, Charlie insisted that she lay quietly, her legs raised on the arm of the sofa.

"What happened?" he asked Flitwick, who was sitting opposite.

"Voldemort," Filius replied. "He came to Gringotts, accompanied by a few Death Eaters. He requested access to his vault, which of course was empty. His rage was incandescent, and he was accusing the goblins of being thieves, wanting to know where the items were that had been in his vault.

Then, the Death Eaters must have begun to fear for their own valuables, for they started to request access to their own vaults. Of course, they could not, for I had placed charms on each vault belonging to known Death Eaters, and chaos ensued from that point. The goblins took great offence at being called thieves, and began to close down the counters so that no customers could open their vaults.

Lord Voldemort then cast a terrible spell, a vicious cleansing charm that works in a similar way to the Thieves' Downfall, in that it removes all covert enchantments. This would have released the vaults I charmed, but of course, the goblins had shut the bank down so no one knew this. The only thing of note that the spell caused was to remove the charm that Madam Weasley here has on her hair, revealing the bright blonde colour that denotes her Veela heritage."

"Zere was nothing we could do run, once I 'ad been seen by ze Death Eaters." Fleur chipped in weakly, from her prone position on the sofa. "Zey remembered me from ze battle at 'Ogwarts. I grabbed 'old of Feelius 'and, 'olding it tightly, Apparated 'ere to ze cottage."

"I think it's safe to say that you just lost your jobs at the bank then?" smirked Charlie, although the expression did not reach his eyes, which remained concerned and serious.

"Did Voldemort say anything about Professor Snape being the last person to enter his private vault?" Hermione asked, terrified.

"He did not seem to make that connection, at least, not out loud," Flitwick replied. "It was the goblins he accused of the theft, not Severus."

"No doubt he will remember soon enough," she grimaced.

"No doubt," the half-goblin agreed.

"It's a full house tonight then," said Charlie. "Filius, you take my room, since Fleur and I share the master bedroom now, and the girls will take the room with two single beds, same as they did last time. It's only for a short time, until Lupin has finished playing wolf, then we will have much more space to house everyone at Grimmauld."

Filius smiled knowingly, for he had worked with Remus for a year and knew him well. The former Charms professor thanked Charlie and Fleur profusely for offering him shelter.

"No problem," Charlie replied, winking. "We're a refuge for half-breeds here; Veelas, werewolves, Metamorphmagi – yes, I'm looking at you, Ted, even a dwarf dragon. I may retrain as a zoo keeper."

-xxx-

Hermione lay in bed, listening to Orla's light breathing and the baby snuffles of Teddy. It was way past the middle of the night, but still far from dawn. It was no good. With the worst timing ever, the compulsion had come upon her with an unstoppable force. It was worse than the time in the Gryffindor common room when she'd had to summon Professor Snape for urgent assistance.

Knowing what he and Kingsley were planning to do today, and after hearing from Flitwick about the chaos in the Gringotts, there surely could not be a worse time to send him a green flare through the fire and request a quick shag. How selfish would that be? So, she'd been trying to ignore it, instead.

Over the last two hours, the pain had been getting steadily worse, a mixture of extreme arousal and intense agony that finally had her crawling to the living room to put in the Floo call.

When his familiar face appeared in the flames after a few minutes, for he must have been in bed, she could have wept with frustrated relief.

"I know this is the most awful time," she began, before her sobs choked the rest of the sentence clean away.

"Come through," he instructed.

"But …"

"Do not waste time, Granger. Come through now."

Hermione took his hand, which he'd extended through the flames, and experienced the strange feeling of him yanking her forcibly through the Floo connection, where she collapsed on his hearthrug. He knelt next to her, wearing his thin dressing-gown that had fallen open a little to reveal some of his bare chest. Gods, she wanted him. She needed him.

"You are compelled?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and correctly assessing the situation.

"Yes," she answered in a small voice.

"Thank fuck for that," he growled, turning her face towards him as he leaned forwards, forcibly taking hold of her mouth with his own, pushing his tongue hard between her lips and using it to plunder the depths of her mouth, as if she were the secret to life itself.