'Vandalise that and I'll sue your ass, Potter!'
Potter and Weasley stepped back from the studded, iron doors of the surprisingly modest, white, faux-Doric marble temple and lowered their wands. 'Hello Tonks,' said Granger, slipping out from behind a column.
'How?' demanded Tonks.
'Your mum told us,' said Potter.
It had taken Tonks about twenty minutes to locate Draco Malfoy and drag him out of his fashion shoot. 'Open it,' she snarled.
Malfoy laid his left hand on the doors which swung softly inward.
'This way,' said Malfoy as he stepped inside. Torches flared and revealed a wide staircase descending ominously into a circular recess in the floor until they reached a sufficient depth to accommodate the opening of a round, steeply sloping tunnel. In the green stone above the entrance, were silver letters. 'Toujours Pur', Tonks read, a chill running down her spine. Having spent fifteen hours searching the labyrinthine Bulstrode funerary complex, shortly after the fall of Voldemort, she wanted nothing whatever to do with the Black mausoleum. Malfoy, however, trotted down the steps quite cheerfully and Tonks quashed the inclination to stop and ask for back up. Andromeda would not have sent Potter had there been any real danger, she reasoned and followed more slowly.
There were exactly one hundred and eleven steps. Tonks had counted them all most carefully. At least, there had been when they came down; which, of course, did not mean that there would be the same number going back up; but it had helped to take her mind off the 'enclosed, underground' element of her surroundings. Dragons like underground, she told herself. Dragons like large, open caves with lots of room, came the instantaneous correction. Tonks wasn't sure that she wouldn't have preferred the capriciousness of the curtained staircase at the ministry.
Another tunnel, this one horizontal, with a vaulted, granite block roof stretched ahead and, again, Malfoy didn't hesitate. Tonks and the others caught up with him in a wide, circular chamber with eight arched openings. 'Wait,' Tonks said. 'Malfoy, do you know what you're doing?'
'The name is Draco, Nymphadora.'
Tonks paused. Laying claim to her muggleborn father's name, here where something might hear, was not a good idea. 'Draco, do you know what you're doing?'
Malfoy sneered and took the fourth exit counting clockwise. Or, more likely, the third widdershins, Tonks corrected herself, hurrying after him into the tunnel. This one ended in a balcony with an elegant wrought iron railing; beyond it row upon row of boxes hung by chains at each corner from the distant ceiling. Coffins, thought Tonks, with a shudder.
From either side of the balcony, flights of steps descended to the floor below. Malfoy headed down the left hand set and they followed him to discover that the entire floor was covered in water, reflecting the torches on the walls above. Mostly, it was shallow, with stone just below the surface, but here and there were deeper pools. He splashed off across the cathedral-like space and then stopped and turned around. 'Everyone has to be on the floor,' he said. 'It won't work otherwise.'
Tonks stepped into the water, hitched up her robe, and picked her way across towards Malfoy. She could hear the others, following at intervals, behind her. 'Ok,' said Malfoy. 'Watch as it comes down. From above him, in absolute silence, one of the boxes had begun to descend. Tonks clasped her arms about herself and waited.
The coffin stopped just above the water.
It was beautiful: lead panels on the sides depicted dragons that seemed to move in ripples of reflected light; on the lid there was a design of stars, or possibly crowns, and flowers. Only the underside had appeared crudely finished but, she noted, all of the bottoms of the coffins were like that. Just plain metal, although probably not lead. If it weren't just a trick of the light, the reddish patination would indicate rust and therefore iron. Malfoy had lifted the lid and leant it on its side against the chains. He bent over the coffin. 'What did he use, anyway? Surely they checked for the Draught of Living Death.'
'Stasis,' said Tonks. 'A charmed shirt button. He swallowed it.'
'Technically,' said Malfoy, 'he didn't swallow it. With a stasis charm, it can't have gone further than his throat. Snow White, remember? Or didn't your parents read you any bedtime stories?'
'Of course they did.'
'Well then, you'll know that we just need to dislodge it.'
'Levicorpus!' called Granger and Snape was swung up into the air by his left ankle. As Draco gazed on in horror, Granger and Potter splashed forward and Granger struck Snape hard behind the shoulder blades. Something small flew from his mouth and into the water. Snape's eyes opened and Potter grinned; Snape's hands shot up and fastened themselves around Potter's neck and then both collapsed as Granger appeared to faint and fall face first into one of the deeper pools.
'Hermione!' Weasley ran to splash down beside her and lift her head and shoulders clear of the water. Granger spat and sneezed and pushed herself onto her knees. Meanwhile Snape and Potter were rolling around in the shallow water, Potter managing to land one punch over his adversary's eye before Snape pulled his head back out of reach. Malfoy gently closed the coffin lid and the box began to rise on its chains. Granger and Weasley scrambled to assist Potter. Given his occupation, Snape would have wrists like wire cable, Tonks realised, as Potter dragged at them uselessly.
Let go, sir,' pleaded Granger, trying to pry his left hand off Potter's throat while Weasley struggled with the other.
'Professor Snape.' Malfoy bent to raise Snape's face toward his own. 'Severus; this is real; you're not dreaming. You've been cleared by the Wizengamot. You might even get and Order of Merlin; First Class. That is if you don't murder the Boy Who Lived'
Snape blinked and gazed down at Potter. He let go of Potter's throat. 'Sorry?' he muttered, sounding as if apologising was some radical sort of experiment. Cautiously, he climbed off his victim.
Malfoy helped Snape up as Weasley did the same for Potter. The Boy Who Lived (again) rubbed at his neck. 'S' Ok,' he muttered. 'I imagine you've wanted to do that for a long time.' He gave a crooked grin. 'Probably wanted to strangle most of us.'
'Not Mr. Longbottom,' replied Snape, his lack of expression indicating that this was not necessarily a good thing . He glance around. 'Where are we?'
'The Black Family mausoleum.'
Snape froze. 'And who,' he enquired softly, 'was so extraordinarily reckless as to use an active spell in a mausoleum belonging to a family as notorious for their involvement in Dark Arts as the Blacks?'
'That would be Granger,' said Malfoy. 'You would honestly think that, by now, she'd know better. Wouldn't you?' They all looked at Granger, even Potter who, Tonks would have been prepared to bet, would have done exactly the same thing.
'Know what?' said Granger, shivering and reminding Tonks of a wet cat.
'That every nasty little curse and cantrip in the place will be awake now, activated by your 'Levicorpus'.
Blood rushed to Granger's face. 'Why am I always the one who's supposed to know?' she demanded. 'Why is it never up to anyone else to actually think to tell me?'
'Well . . .' began Weasley.
'If someone else doesn't know something, that's just how it is but if I don't know, suddenly I'm at fault? Well, fuck you, because I'm bloody sick of it. You can find your own bloody way out.'
'I . . .' began Weasley.
'You. I bet you didn't even know that your mother was training to be an Auror, did you? Until someone fucked up with a contraceptive spell and I'm just guessing as to who's fault that was.'
Tonks closed her eyes and hoped, really hoped, that she was dreaming and then opened her eyes again. She knew better. Idly, she wondered how long it would take her colleagues to work out what had happened to them. Or, indeed, if they ever would.
'Granger,' said Malfoy's soothingly. 'I think you may well have a point. No; in point of fact, I do believe you're right. Look, d'you mind if I call you Hermione? The thing is, I'm supposed to be taking Sandy and her parents out to dinner this evening; it took me weeks to finagle the restaurant; and just at the moment, our chances of getting out of here alive are slight to non-existant and I believe that they would be vastly improved if you would employ your not inconsiderable talents to that end.'
Granger looked at him suspiciously and then smothered a smile. 'Malfoy . . .'
'Draco; please.'
'Draco.'
'Err, Malfoy.' Potter was staring upwards. 'All of the coffins are rising. Is that supposed to happen?'
'That's so that they'll be safely out of the way,' said Malfoy; 'although, actually, the coffins aren't rising. If you'll look towards where the stairs were when we came in, you'll see that that is just an optical illusion caused by the fact that the room is going down.'
