Severus sat back in his chair, put his feet on the ottoman, and closed his eyes, listening to the fire. He needed to relax. He needed to decompress. He hadn't dropped his Occlumency shields in ages, and he desperately needed to... but he didn't want to feel.

Merlin, but he wanted his wife. And not for sex, though sex would be nice. He just wanted to hold her. He missed her. He was miserable. He just wanted to have her close, to feel the warmth of her in the bed next to him, to hear her breathe in the night, to wake up with her hair in his face.

He went to his happy place. It was a mocking term, "happy place." Something his father had taunted him with when he'd caught Severus meditating when he'd first begun to teach himself Occlumency.

The mental construct of the meditation, the peaceful "place" he created in his mind, had changed over the years. When he'd begun, it had been him and Lily lying on a hill by their park on a sunny afternoon, before Hogwarts. It had been his private lab at Hogwarts for a time, chopping methodically and listening to a cauldron simmer, the vapors warming the air in the cool room. For a year or so, it had been Hermione, an overlay of perfect moments with her, looking into her eyes, feeling their minds embrace.

Then they'd had children. It was his best "happy place" yet, a memory. Dawn two days after the twins were born. He and Hermione had been exhausted, suddenly having three small children to take care of, but that morning had been perfect. They were spooned together, the bed made beneath them. His head was propped up on his elbow, her head was leant back against his chest. His other arm held her to him, their hands laced together over her stomach. The twins were finally asleep on the other side of the bed, their little fists clasped together. Bast knelt on the far side of the bed, his arms crossed and his chin propped on them, watching the girls. Dawn light had been streaming in through the sheer curtains, rimming everything in white.

The moment, the memory, didn't last long this time. He hadn't been able to think of it, to think of Hermione, for long since he'd heard the rumors without breaking. It was an effective way to remove his Occlumency shields before they shattered his mind again, though.

The Dark Lord had been furious after Easter. He'd been called to Malfoy Manor, told Potter had been captured but escaped before his arrival. Potter and Dumbledore's dragon. And a whole band of Snatchers were dead, and Wormtail.

Draco had returned from the holiday even more pale and terrified-looking than before. He walked the halls like the king of the ghosts, sneering and giving the children of Death Eaters orders like he should, but he was a husk.

I've failed Draco, too, Severus thought, but he was distracting himself.

There had been no word whatsoever about Hermione, or from her. He'd filled his palm with notes to her, but there had been no response. He'd looked, scoured the papers since he'd first heard the rumors. He'd checked the safe houses that he knew of. He couldn't even assume that no news was good news. He'd sent Phineas to his other portrait, but the former headmaster had yet to return.

\\

The next morning at breakfast, one of the Carrows let something slip about how ill Draco looked since he and his family had been punished. Severus ignored it. Minerva heard, though, and went stiff beside him.

That afternoon, Hagrid pulled him aside. It was what he'd dreaded since the half-giant had figured things out. It was odd enough to see him in the castle, but having a whispered conversation with the dreaded headmaster as well?

"What are you thinking?" Severus snarled, throwing up every obscuring and distracting enchantment he could think of to keep others away from them.

"Is i' true?" Hagrid asked, very close to tears. "Wha' them Carrows were sayin' 'bout Harry?"

"I don't know," Severus admitted, clenching his fists. The last thing he needed was to be brought to tears himself. Hagrid could not know about Hermione, not yet, not now. He couldn't know anything more than he already did. "There is only a rumor that Potter was at Malfoy Manor and escaped."

"Oh," Hagrid said, wiping away a few tears. Severus could feel his fingernails biting into his palms; there would be blood from them in a few minutes.

"I think," he said slowly, trying to settle his own worries as well as Hagrid's, "that if something had actually come of it, it would have been in the Prophet. It would have been reported. There would have been news, not just a rumor."

"Yer probly, righ'," Hagrid said, snuffling a bit but appearing to pull himself together. "O' course you are. O' course yer righ'."

Severus escaped quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. He certainly hoped he was right.

\\

Severus—

Join me at the London house as soon as you are able. Do not Floo in.

—Lucius

The letter was written on a tattered corner of parchment, folded twice and sealed with a spell keyed to him. There had been no other charms on it, nor any hexes waiting to trip his fingers.

It was very odd.

Severus hadn't been to the Malfoy residence in London in ages. He knew for a fact that the place had been closed up after Lucius was put in Azkaban, the furniture covered and the Floo disconnected. (A family living in shame didn't keep a convenient house in the city in addition to the old family manor, after all.)

Clearly, the Dark Lord didn't know about this rendezvous. And "Do not Floo in."… Lucius knew that Severus knew the house had been disconnected from the Floo Network. A different message, then. Don't use any form of travel that could be traced.

What the hell are you getting me into, Lucius?

Nevertheless, within five minutes of receiving the letter Severus was leaving the caslte. On impulse, he stopped at Hagrid's hut and informed the half-giant that he would be out.

"Ov'r lunch?" Hagrid asked, furry eyebrows raised.

"It is not a… Summons. I don't know what it is."

"Be careful, then."

Severus nodded once and left before he could do anything stupid.

He Apparated to London, just outside the Leaky Cauldron. A few quick charms on his person to keep the Muggles away, and he strode down the street. The Malfoy house wasn't far; not a quick walk, but hardly more than a decent stroll considering the amount of walking he did (patrolling that vast castle had its benefits).

It was a stately thing with a yard full of dead plants. The shutters were closed. The whole thing had the general feel of neglect.

It felt like he was taking his life in his hands when he picked up the door knocker and let it fall twice. The sound seemed to echo, though there were plenty of other sounds. London over lunch hour; it was hardly quiet.

Surprisingly, there was no house elf magicking the door open, bowing and ushering him into a parlour. Lucius answered it himself, opening the door just a crack before stepping back far enough for Severus to enter.

"You look terrible," Severus said, though he hadn't meant to. At one point, a very long time ago, Lucius had been his friend. They'd been close enough that Severus was Draco's godfather. For just this moment, away from the Dark Lord and Hogwarts, Severus could almost forget that they weren't those young men anymore.

Lucius looked old; there was no other way to put it. He had lines on his face, and there were strands of gray-white in his hair. He looked pinched the way Draco did, only more so because he was still actively living with the source of the look. His robes were clean, though, if a bit rumpled.

"Hello, Severus."

Lucius led the way into the house. It was strangely like Grimmauld Place in many ways, with a long entryway sporting several narrow doors leading to the other rooms of the house. Severus had been here enough to know that the first door led to the formal sitting room, the second was an anteroom for the sitting room. The door on the other side went to the dining room. They continued past all the doors to the stairs at the back of the house, ascended to the third floor, entered Lucius's office.

"What's going on, Lucius?" Severus asked, tired of the farce. Lucius raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. Severus almost scowled at him, but forced himself to remain neutral.

"Did you know that I've been visiting the Ministry?"

Severus shook his head, put a look of polite interest on his face, and settled in to be talked around to whatever Lucius had brought him here to say.

"I'm not officially an employee, of course. I was in Azkaban too recently for that." Just the slightest bitterness, there. Sorry you got caught, Lucius? "I still have friends, though."

"It is good to have friends." We used to be friends, which is the only reason I'm here at all. Get to the point, Lucius. The Carrows could have Longbottom hanging by his ankles in some forgotten broom cupboard by now.

"The Dark Lord feels that it's good I keep in touch with my friends, just in case something interesting comes up. And, as it happens, something interesting has come up."

Something so interesting that you called me to your private house—a place you aren't even supposed to be—to tell me about it? And before you tell the Dark Lord, too, obviously. Otherwise I could have Apparated directly into your damn welcome room at the manor.

"Oh?"

"I have a cousin who works in the International office. He's not particularly bright, my cousin, but he's clever enough. You remember Benedict? He was in your year at Hogwarts."

"I remember him." Benedict Malfoy had all the ambition of Slytherin and none of the cunning. He'd spent hours strutting around their dormitory telling them about his plots and plans, none of which actually worked (often because one of his roommates sabotaged him). He'd also left his socks everywhere.

"He remembers you, too." There was a weighted moment in which Lucius looked Severus over shrewdly and Severus pretended to be bored. What are you up to, Lucius? "So when an interesting case came across his desk, concerning a little boy who looked remarkably like you, he just had to get in on it. And tell me all about it, of course."

"What are you up to, Lucius?" He tried to make it sound like banter, like he was enjoying the setup to Lucius's obviously engaging tale, but he sounded too suspicious. He'd broken out in a cold sweat.

"What are you up to, Severus?" Lucius smirked. "Do you know a family called Wilkins?"

"No," Severus said, because he didn't, but then he froze and looked Lucius in the eye, remembering. "… Yes."

"I thought you might."

They were silent for a moment. Severus resisted the urge to go for his wand, locking his fingers on the arm rests of his chair instead. Lucius was watching him, calculating, making decisions based on whatever he saw in Severus's face. Severus didn't know what he could see; he was Occluding fiercely. His face was blank.

"I've asked myself, so many times, whose side you're on, Severus. It all seemed so clear when we were younger, where the lines were drawn and who fell in with whom."

"Everything seemed simpler when we were younger," Severus replied neutrally.

"That was before we had children."

"I beg your pardon?" Impossible.

"After the Dark Lord… killed the Potters, when Dumbledore spoke for you, I realized that you could play both sides well enough that even I, one of your closest friends, couldn't tell where your loyalties lay. But I realized something else, too."

"I am loyal to the D—" He began, drawing himself up his his chair, ready to rise to a proper bluster, as appropriate for the current right hand of Lord Voldemort.

"You are loyal to you and yours, Severus." Severus narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. "There are three children in the room down the hall, the eldest of which is a boy who looks so much like you even my idiot cousin recognized him." Severus couldn't think of a thing to say. "I Obliviated Benedict, by the way."

"You—Lucius—what—?" The children are just down the hall.

"I don't know why and I don't know how, but you have three children, and you had them hidden away in Muggle Australia. No, no—" Lucius held up a hand, rising when Severus did. "Sit down, Severus, I want to make a deal with you."

Glaring, fists clenched, Severus sat.

"I'm not going to tell the Dark Lord. I'm not going to tell Narcissa. I'm not going to tell anybody. I'll even destroy the documentation of the incident." He was carefully looking at the bookshelf cabinet out of the corner of his eye, suggesting that the papers were probably not in the cabinet. Probably in his desk. "All I ask in return is that you help Draco. Protect my son, Severus, and I'll save your children."

"Done," Severus said. He didn't even need to think. Of course he'd protect Draco, he'd do that anyway. He'd grown into a right ponce, but, if he came through the war, there might be hope for him. And he'd been a very sweet, if spoiled rotten, boy.

Severus kept his seat, eyes evaluating his old friend, wondering. Lucius obviously suspected him of playing both sides—getting children on a Muggle or Muggle-born to claim in the event that the Order triumphed, keeping them a secret from the Dark Lord in case he won. Or… No, Lucius knew. He knew Severus was in love with the mother; it wasn't just one child, it was three. And he'd agreed to the terms too quickly, without even negotiating.

This was why they were in Australia.

"How," Severus began, but his voice cracked and he had to begin again; "How did…?"

And what happened to my damned in-laws?

Oh, Merlin, had something happened to the Grangers?

"That's a bit of a scandal, actually," Lucius said, leaning back in his chair and looking amused. "There was a car crash. The Muggles you left them with died, and the Australian Ministry of Magic realized there were British citizens living in their country under false pretenses, and three magical children under false identities. They didn't care about the Muggles, of course; I believe they're in a government morgue somewhere. The children were deported, though. Sent straight through the International office, where Benedict thought it was interesting how much they resembled you and brought it to my attention."

"A car crash." His children had been in a car crash. "Shit, I'm going to have to tell her they died."

Unless she was dead, too.

"Hm."

The Grangers' bodies would have to wait, though. He'd send a letter to the Atkinses.

"Where are my children, Lucius?"

Lucius's smile was triumphant. Snape prayed the older man's Occlumency was up to the task of keeping this secret. Otherwise he was dead. The children were dead. Even if he hid them again, hid them well, put every protection on them, they were all dead. And Hermione, too, most likely.

Unelss she was dead already.

He very likely might be sick all over the dusty rug if he didn't hold his children soon.

"Where are they?" Stop looking smug and tell me!

"They're right down the hall. Asleep." Lucius stood, and Severus all but leapt out of his chair. "They've had a very long week."

Gods, a week. They've endured this upheaval for a week and I had no idea. Does Hermione know? Shit, did they see her wanted posters at the Minsitry?

Fuck. What if I have to tell them their mother is dead?

And then Lucius dimmed the light in the hall so that he could open the door to Draco's old bedroom without spilling too much light inside and waking the children. Of course, Bast wasn't asleep.

The girls were curled up together on the bed, hands clasped like they'd done when they were babies. There was a conjured cot on the other wall, but the blankets were thrown down to the foot of the bed as if they'd been tossed off the moment the door had closed. Bast sat on the end of his sisters' bed instead, his hands clenched on the bed post as he glared at the door.

"Dad!"

And then his son was in his arms, and it was all he could do to keep from crying.

"I should Oblivaite you," he told Lucius, standing in the room while the other man stood in the doorway, watching with an odd look on his face. "I should Obliviate you right now."

"But then who would go remove the rest of the paperwork from good cousin Benedict's office for you? You certainly can't go with three young children to hide." It wasn't snide, or even particularly menacing. It was practical. And that look on his face was almost… sympathetic.

"Lucius…" He'd been trying for threatening, but it was impossible to be properly menacing while soothing his son, stroking his hair while the boy cried and clung. Severus realized he was shaking, and sat on the edge of the girls' bed.

"When this is all over," Lucius said quietly, half turned to leave the room. "Severus, when this is all over, I hope you tell me about your woman, how your family came to be."

"Thank you, Lucius. For my children."

Lucius nodded, and left them.

\\

Severus got a patchy version of events from Bast over the next twenty minutes. The boy spent the time cradled in his lap like a toddler, though his limbs were much too long for it. (Gods, he'd grown at least two inches in the last few months.)

There had indeed been a car crash. They'd been grocery shopping. Another truck, a bigger truck, hit them head-on, and the Grangers had been killed instantly, the truck totaled. Bast had Apparated himself and his sisters, who'd been sitting on either side of him, to the side of the road. They were unharmed, but terrified.

The EMTs had assumed the children had been flung to safety in one of those fluke miracles. They'd been taken to the hostpital while the Grangers' bodies were extricated from what was left of the truck. The Australian Ministry had caught up to them at the hospital, and their documentation was revealed to be false. They'd spent the night in some sort of juvenile housing. Bast had been very confused, and he'd spent a lot of time holding his sisters' hands and refusing to let them out of his sight.

After two more nights in juvenile housing, the three of them had been sent to the Ministry in London via Portkey ("I puked everywhere, Dad. All over this grumpy wizard's shoes. Twice.") where they were questioned by Benedict Malfoy. And then they were brought to the strange house and put in the bedroom to rest.

"They died, didn't they?" Bast asked at the end of his tale. Severus nodded solemnly. He held Bast close and rubbed his back while he cried.

"Remember how your mum and I had to go away and finish some dangerous things?" Severus asked when Bast had quieted down.

"Yes."

"And how you were going to stay safe with your grandparents a long way away?"

"Yes."

"Now you're going to stay safe with me. But we have to be extra carefuly, because now you're not a long way away. We're in the middle of the dangerous things."

"I'm sorry."

"Sh, Bast. You don't need to be sorry. It's not your fault you're here. It just happened." He hugged his son tighter to his chest, putting his chin on top of the mop of curly black hair. The boy looked remarkably like him, down to the unfortunate nose, but his hair had all Hermione's curl. "And, truly, I'm glad you're here. I missed giving you hugs."

Bast giggled, which had been the point, and squeezed him back.

"Let's wake up your sisters, shall we?"

"Can we wait just a minute longer?"

"Of course."

He held his son until the boy was ready to share. Then they stood up, and Severus crouched down so that they faces were level.

"I'm proud of you, Bast. You've been very brave this week." He put his hands on his son's shoulders, rubbed his upper arms. Bast looked a bit bashful, which was all the more endearing. "I'm glad your sisters had you with them to protect them. You saved them."

"They're little."

"Yes." And so are you, dear boy.

They left the privacy of the bedroom ten minutes later. Severus had a daughter on each hip, both of them clinging to him, fingers clenched in his robes, legs clamped around his waist. Bast walked just slightly behind, a fistful of robes so that Severus could feel the tug of it and know he was there. Lucius was sitting in the office down the hall, his chair facing the doorway so that he could watch for them.

Ideally, he'd have a hand free for his wand. Just in case. But the girls had only just stopped crying, and had refused to let him go. Bast was putting on a brave front, but his grip in Severus's robes made his opinion of their situation clear enough.

"Thank you, Lucius," Severus said, carefully making eye contact. Lucius was hard to read, especially now. The blond was looking over their little family framed in the doorway, contemplating them, and Severus had no idea if he was making plans to betray them or wondering if he should invite them to Christmas next year.

"I'll see you back in the real world, Severus." Lucius dismissed them by turning his attention to the papers on his desk, passing his wand over them a few times. Silvery steam was beginning to rise from the papers when Severus turned away.

They walked, slow and steady, down the stairs, down the hall, out the door. They walked down the block, ignoring the looks from the Muggles they encountered; it wasn't every day most of them saw a grown man in full robes, but Severus didn't give a damn. He would have transfigured them to fit in, but then Bast wouldn't have had anything to hang on to.

When they were a suitable distance from the Malfoy house, Severus Apparated them to Hogwarts. His private sitting room above the hedmaster's office, with its comfortable furniture and a fireplace full of warm, cheerful fire.

"Where are we?" Bast asked, looking around warily, his hand still tight in Severus's cloak.

"Hogwarts," Severus said, setting the girls down on the sofa so that he could put his hand on his son's head. "This is my sitting room at Hogwarts."

"Is this home? Mum said you lived at Hogwarts before you lived in Australia."

"It is home for now," Severus said. "When the w—when the fighting is done, we'll get a proper house like we had before."

"With a garden?"

"With a garden."

"Good. I liked having a garden."

Severus smiled. He hoped he'd be able to show Bast the Hogwarts greenhouses. And Hagrid's pumpkin patch full of those enormous pumpkins. Next fall? Could that be possible?

"How are you doing, girls? You've been awfully quiet."

"Okay," Sofia said.

"I'm sleepy," Ellie said.

"I suppose you're used to it being the middle of the night about now," he said, more thinking out loud than anything else. They'd been napping at the Malfoy house, after all. "Come on through here. This is the bedroom."

"There's just one?" Ellie asked. Severus noted that the twins were holding hands again as they followed him into the bedroom.

"Well, it was just me living here."

"Not Mum too?"

"Where's Mummy?"

"Mum is keeping her friend Harry safe."

"Why doesn't she keep him safe here?"

"Because they could find him if he was here."

"Who's they?"

"The bad guys?"

"Yes, the bad guys."

"The ones who gave you the tattoo?"

"Yes." Ellie and Bast both opened their mouths for more questions, but Severus held up a hand. "No more questions now. Everybody into bed."

The bed was large, almost opulent. He could fully stretch out any which way and still be comfortable, and he was quite tall. The three of them, Bast in the middle with a sister tucked securely on either side, were dwarfed by the bed. They settled on the pillows, and he tucked them in tight.

"The loo is through that door. I'll be back in the sitting room if you need me."

"You'll be there when we wake up?" Ellie asked. She was the quietest of the three, but she always seemed to be the one to ask the question they all wanted to know the answer to. He smiled and kissed them each one more time.

"Yes. I'll be here when you wake up."

There was a chorus of "I love you Daddy"s as he left the room, and he ached to turn around and spend the afternoon watching his children sleep. Watching over them.

Instead, he tried to think. The wards informed him that Poppy was alone in the hospital wing for the moment, though it was the middle of the day and that could change at any moment. He wanted to have her check them over sooner rather than later.

And Minerva. This changed things entirely, derailed most of the plans they'd considered from the safety of Kenilworth. They'd never planned on their children being in the fucking castle during the war. He needed an ally; besides, she was almost as connected to the wards at he was, it would only be a matter of time before she snuck in to investigate the presence of young children in the headmaster's suite.

What he really needed was to find Hermione. It had been more than a week, and he hadn't heard from her or the portrait he'd sent to find her. It had weighed on him before, but now he'd upgraded from "worry" into "panic."

"Tup!" he called, flicking his wand at the bedroom door to ward the sound out but let him hear any noise the children made. The little elf appeared immediately, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet at the pleasure of an opportunity to be of service.

"Headmaster wants Tup?"

"Yes. Tell Poppy that I'd like to speak to her in my office as soon as she can manage it. Then bring this to Minerva." He held up the vial containing the silvery wisp of a memory he'd retrieved from the felt bandolier it had been stored in for so long. "Put it in her office, on her desk where she'll see it when she walks in."

"Yes, Headmaster, sir."

Severus raised an eyebrow when the elf took the vial and the note explaining what it was, but didn't depart. "Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir."

"Well?"

"May I take care of the babies, sir?"

"The babies?"

"Yes, Headmaster, sir. The babies. May I bring them foods and help them in the rooms?"

"Yes, that would be… convenient. Good. Yes. But not a word about any of them, Tup. Do you understand? Not anybody. Not even the other elves. In fact, until further notice, you are the only elf allowed in these chambers."

"Yes, Headmaster, sir," the elf said. The little thing was practically exploding with pride, being entrusted with 'the babies.' "Tup understands."

"Good. Off you go, then."

The elf went. Ten minutes later, the wards on his office told him that Poppy had just given the password and was on her way up. Drawing his robes around him for the sake of the portraits—he certainly didn't want Dumbledore catching wind of what was going on until he had an actual plan to present the portrait with—he stepped out onto the little landing at the top of the staircase and looked down at the room.

Poppy entered, her usual apron left behind in the hospital wing. She looked curious, but not worried. He figured she'd guessed that if there were a true emergency he would've had the elf bring her to him instantaneously.

Or maybe she just hated him that much. Maybe she'd happily watch him bleed out.

"Headmaster?" she asked, looking up at him from the center of the office. He wondered how old she was—surely she had a file around somewhere and he could look it up, but he'd never thought to. She'd been gray when he'd been a student, and he hadn't reevaluated her since. Older than Minerva, younger than Slughorn?

"Poppy. Please come up." He turned and went through the door to his sitting room. The portraits muttered a bit, but Poppy closed the door behind her and the noise was quickly cut off.

"Headmaster?" she asked, prompting him when he'd stood there in silence for too long. He had no idea where to begin.

He scrubbed his hands down his face. Feeling a bit useless, he Summoned a hair elastic (probably one of Hermione's) and jerked his hair back into a queue at the nape of his neck, firmly out of the way. Poppy openly gaped at him.

He didn't even know where to start. "It was planned," would be horrifyingly lame. She deserved better than that.

He opend his mouth to begin explaining—though he wasn't particularly sure what he was going to say—only to be interrupted by a twinge from the wards around his office and a shout from one of the portraits. He grabbed a photo ablum off the bottom shelf (where it had been disguised as a dusty old potions tome) and handed it to Poppy.

"I will explain," he said, but carried on past her back into the office. "What news?" he asked from the landing, looking over toward Phinaes's portrait. It was still empty.

Harry Potter was standing in the middle of the office, though. Or at least part of him was; the damned Invisibility Cloak covered him from the elbows down.

"Potter! Do you have any idea how risky it is for you to be here?"

"It's Hermione, sir—"

"By the beard, man, can you do nothing according to plan!" Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predescessor, exclaimed.

"Shut up," Severus snarled at the portrait. Dippet blinked in an offended sort of way, but didn't leave the frame. (Things were too interesting and he didn't want to miss out, probably.)

"I told you your marriage was a horrible idea," Dumbledore began, looking at him down his nose. Severus glared back.

"Not a word."

"What is this?" Poppy asked, coming out of his rooms to stand on the landing. She had the album open in her hands, then dropped it with a hard thunk when she saw Harry.

It's never just one thing.

"Snape. Please," Potter said. Every eye in the room trained on him. "Hermione is hurt. Cursed. Bill Weasley stopped it spreading, but he hasn't been able to break it. I think she might be dying."

"Show me," Severus said, pointing his wand at the boys face. "Legilimens."

Where Potter looked hungry and ill, like a strong breeze would knock him over, Hermione looked skeletal in the memory. There was a flash of memory, a band of Snatchers attacking a tent. Hermione making him unrecognizeable with a Stinging Hex, Malfoy Manor. Greyback said foul things, and then Potter lost his focus and the memory flipped back to the first time he'd seen Greyback in Knockturn Alley.

"Focus," Severus muttered. Potter strained to show him what he needed.

Hermione near-collapsed against Bellatrix Lestrange, a knife at her throat. The chandelier falling. Then a cottage on the coast, Weasleys everywhere, and everybody hovering over Hermione.