68. Morsmordre

A sharp intake of breath startled me out of my daze, and I glanced down as Severus's right hand went to his left forearm.

"Does it hurt?" I said in an urgent whisper.

"No," he said, his voice grating and trembling at once. "Phantom pain."

Eerie green light was caught in the dark glass of the window, and adrenaline, just as green, just as bright and horrifying, began to pump through my body with each quick heartbeat. The mark meant that the terrors of the night were real. That the breakout was not a nightmare. That there was no turning back. Though the mark itself was impermanent, the evil it symbolised was very much the opposite. I would have to rely on my coursing adrenaline, and my instincts, and fate, until all of this was over. However long it took.

Had it not been for the lingering power of the draught of peace, I might have lost my nerve completely. But I was able to stare through the window at the mark without losing my grip on my sanity.

Severus was awfully still for a long moment, his hand continuing to grip his forearm. Then he swiftly turned and swept down the steps into the kitchen. I tore my eyes from the green skull and snake in the sky and stood in the doorway, watching as he filled his pockets with vials of potion from the cupboard by the cellar door. I saw more invigoration draught, as well as essence of dittany, invisibility potion…

"Severus," I said, keeping my voice calm. "What are you doing."

Severus did not respond for a long moment, staring hard at one of the vials. Then he set it back in the cupboard and closed the doors. "Going," he said, his voice as black as the night. "If she thinks I'm staying put, she's mad."

He was striding back along the length of the room, and I felt my heart pounding as he approached. "And if you think I'm letting you go out there alone–"

He mounted the steps and pushed me back into the corridor, gripping my shoulders tightly. I winced and he loosened his grip slightly, but continued to stare at me, his face close, his breath sweeping over my face. His stare was so intense that I was afraid of him. I saw the urgency in his eyes, and knew it was not unfounded.

"You know how much damage I have done!" he said, on the verge of shouting.

"I don't care," I said, shuddering.

"Yes, you do!" he protested. His hands gripped my arms more tightly again, and I could see deep pain and vengeance in his eyes. "This is my chance to correct it!"

He released me roughly and I half-stumbled before pressing my hand into the wall and regaining my strength. He returned to the sitting room, the vials of potion clinking softly in his pockets.

"I'm coming with you!" I said, pursuing him, my voice loud to match his. I knew that now, of all times, was not the time to be a peacemaker. "If you leave, I'm coming with you!"

He wheeled around violently and I drew back at the sight of his face, contorted with determination and poorly hidden fear. "You must not leave this house!" he demanded, his voice surprisingly quiet despite its intensity. "Do you understand!"

"You haven't seen what I can do!" I argued. "You're not going alone. I understand why you can't hide. I can't either!"

He stepped forward and held my arm again, but more softly this time. His other hand pressed gently against my belly. "I beg you," he said. "I beg you to stay." My eyes searched his for some way to convince him, but before I could find one he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. This kiss was different from any other one we had shared. Its softness spoke of parting.

"No!" I insisted, when he drew away.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

And then he stepped back from me, and in a swirl of black fabric, disapparated.

For a few moments I stood there in shock.

Cold vines of betrayal twisted around my limbs.

I should have expected it.

But then my own willpower surged up from within me and tore free of the vines. He was not going to hold me back! He had no right to dictate what I would and would not do!

I put out the fire, pocketed the folded Marauder's Map and, clutching my wand, set my eyes on the dark mark, willing myself to apparate there.

There was a slight tug inside of me. But nothing more. I was still standing on the floor in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. I closed my eyes and envisioned the mark again, willing myself to apparate.

Nothing.

I started to tremble with rage as I understood. He must have been planning this from the very moment we'd arrived! Whatever protective spells he'd been casting in the entryway must have also been intended to keep me from leaving the house! His pleas for me to stay put had been nothing but affectation; he knew I couldn't escape!

In a brief, flashing second, so much of our progress, so much of our trust, was scattered to the winds. Again he was the unfair, unkind professor who walked around the dark dungeon classroom like a domineering captain, deliberately allowing me to make mistakes in my work so he could embarrass me at the end of the hour.

My entire body tensed and my hands closed into fists. "FUCK! YOU!" I shouted, willing some recess of his mind to pick up on the sound of my rage.

My body began to vibrate with panic, but this was no time for giving up. Moving like a fire, I ran down the narrow front hallway to the front door. As I reached forward to touch the door, my hands felt as though they were struggling through water. It took all of my strength to push through the barrier. But even when I finally touched the bolt and the doorknob, all of my turning and twisting and tugging had absolutely no effect.

Withdrawing my hands, I growled and clasped them together to make them feel solid again. The skin still tingled painfully, as though they had fallen asleep. I stood there panting, absolutely furious. Summoning my will, I let my body go quiet, trying to relax my mind so that something might surface. Some counter spell I might have stored somewhere in the dusty depths of my memory.

Taking advantage of my momentary sensitivity, I felt my wand become warmer in my hand. It gave a small jerking motion, towards the parlour. Heart beating fast, I obeyed its prompting and allowed my arm to lift into the air as my wand led me to the window. It tapped on the glass meaningfully.

Whatever magic Severus had put in place was only preventing me from apparating or using the front door. Perhaps in his haste he had overlooked the window. I pressed my palm to the cold glass with ease, and gasped with triumph as I was able to pull the window open. I took the mug of untouched tea from the windowsill and set it on the floor, the cold air flooding in and the Halloween breeze stirring my hair.

"Thank you!" I said to my wand.

You're welcome, it seemed to say.

Hitching the skirts of my robes up to my knees, I straddled the windowsill and leaned out, studying the distance between the window and the ground. It wasn't awful, but I still felt my heart pounding with fear as I swung my other leg over and prepared to jump. I felt the encouragement of my wand, and before I could delay any longer, pushed off from the cold brick. There was a rush of movement, and then I landed upright, though not very nimbly, on the cobblestone street below.

Freedom.

My ankles burned slightly from the impact, and I could feel the shock of it running up my legs. But nothing was broken, and I breathed in the cold air that swirled around me as the dry leaves rustled on the trees in the gated garden. My landing made very little noise in the vastness of the city night. But I could sense the faint vibration of significance my escape had in the world.

I turned around and shut the open window with my wand. Then, with much creaking and clattering of bricks, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place retreated from sight.

I lifted my eyes to the dark mark, green and ghastly through the treetops, held my wand tightly, and apparated.

I landed in a garden, overgrown and dark with shadows. The mark was just overhead, far larger than it had seemed from Islington, nebulous and casting its unnatural green light over the flowers and hedges of the garden. Wand raised, I urgently looked for signs of struggle or death in the surrounding flower beds and thorny thickets. But there was nothing. Perhaps the mark had been cast for the sake of terror alone.

"Severus!" I whispered.

The only answer was a foreboding stirring of the breeze among the barren branches of the small trees.

There was no need to light my wand; the green light was more than enough to illuminate my way. I hurried quietly out of the garden down the paths, dead leaves crunching underfoot, and reached a cold black iron gate. "Alohomora!" I whispered. The lock clicked, and I pushed the gate forward with a loud, deep whine of metal. I closed it behind me, restored the lock, and surveyed my surroundings, keeping my breath soft and secret.

I was standing on a pathway which led towards a long pond, ducks gliding on the surface by the light of yellow lamp posts. Park benches lined the water, and there was not a person in sight. The nearest evidence of muggles was the sound of cars driving quietly down an unseen road.

To my left was a stretch of trees, pale, viridescent shadows hanging among the trunks like cobwebs. I knew I should not enter the small woods, but I also knew it was where Severus would have gone. I stepped off the path and walked over the hard earth into the trees. I kept my footfalls light, searching every which way for any sign of a person.

I was far from the edge of the trees when I heard a twig crack behind me, and a hoarse, anxious voice. "Stay where you are! Don't move!"

It was the voice of a man, but there was an effeminate edge to it; almost a whimper. I would have thought this was someone from the Ministry, here to search the area for the person who had cast the mark, had the sound of the voice not told me differently. I turned my head to look.

"Don't look at me!" the voice said. Again I detected a flicker of weakness in it, as though the person were crying. I did not look around, and stayed very still, my heart thudding in my chest.

"Hold your hands up!" the person demanded.

I did.

"Drop your wand!"

I did.

There was a moment of stillness, and then I heard a weak sniffling sound from the person behind me. By the sound of it he hadn't moved a single step since he'd first spoken. He whimpered again, and I realised that he was afraid.

"I didn't want to do it!" he said, weeping deeply and gasping, though his voice remained high-pitched with nervousness. "Please believe me!"

My breathing softened, and I sensed my wand near my foot, but felt no need to pick it up to defend myself. Although he had just confessed to casting the mark himself, I knew in my bones that this person was not going to hurt me.

I spoke softly, patiently. "May I turn around? I want to see who I'm talking to."

There was a fidgety silence. I could practically hear the person trembling. "Slowly," he said.

I knew from his tone that I was now the one in control.

Very carefully, I moved my feet in little steps and turned around to face the man who was pointing his wand at me.

He couldn't have been more than thirty, but he looked much older. His hair was thin and grey in places, and his face looked pale and haggard. His eyes were surrounded by dark, ashen circles, and his mouth was drawn in a stressed and trembling line, his lips quivering as he struggled not to cry. I could tell just by looking at his body, the way it hunched and seemed to cringe at its own trembling, that he was in pain. He had been hurt, and recently too. I saw the dark scars on his neck, and the pieces merged together easily.

I remained calm, keeping my voice cool. "You're a werewolf," I said.

A rush of anger and fear entered his face, and he aimed his wand with false ferocity. "How do you know that!"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I know you're not going to hurt me."

"I could! I cast the mark!"

"The full moon was a week ago. Your condition is no threat to either of us now."

His eyes swelled suddenly, seeming to sense my good intentions. His face trembled and he whimpered again, jumping skittishly as a muggle car made a loud rumbling sound in a distant street. His whole frail body shook with panicked sobs as he gave up his pretended savagery. He kept his wand pointed at me, but his arm was growing weak.

"Please!" he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't want to do it!"

"Who told you to do it?"

He gave a cry of pain, as though I'd stabbed him. "My father!"

"Who is your father?"

He seemed to be trying hard not to crumble to the ground.

"Who is your father?" I repeated.

And then I realised.

I felt my mouth go dry.

"Is Greyback your–"

A piercing whimper tore through him at the sound of the name, and his eyes filled with shining terror. His teeth clenched and he made a desperate sound of pain.

"Turn around again!" He shouted. "Don't look at me!"

I looked down at the ground, but did not turn around. I had to be brave. I concealed my own fearful reaction to the knowledge that Greyback had been the one to turn this man… probably during the war… and now he had been tracked down and forced to serve his master. I thought of the legislation Kingsley Shacklebolt had just passed; how it had been a new hope for all of the innocent people Greyback had changed. Now it seemed it had all been undone by the return of the monster into their midst.

I swallowed dryly. "Is he here in London?" I asked.

"Turn around!" the man shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

I knew I had touched a nerve, and was not going to get any more information out of him. "Okay," I said, and began to slowly obey.

"Lower your wand."

The voice was slow and deep and I knew it immediately. I looked up to see Severus standing behind the man, his wand aimed steadily. He had emerged from the darkness without a sound. The relief that might have overcome me upon seeing him here was cancelled out by anger, which surged to life again at the sight of him. He locked me up. He disrespected my free will.

"Lower your wand!"

The man lowered his wand, trembling in complete terror, his face totally drained of colour.

"Throw it towards her," Severus ordered.

He did so, his wand landing on the ground just in front of my shoes. I bent and picked it up, as well as my own wand. Severus violently thrashed his wand through the air and magical bindings wrapped around the man, who was forced suddenly to his knees. Severus strode forward and came to stand in front of the man, whose face morphed into an expression of respect and fear as he looked up at his captor.

"Seveurs Snape!" he said, his voice higher than ever. "Please! You must understand! I didn't–"

"I heard every one of your pitiful protestations," Severus snapped.

His head turned and his eyes pierced me without forgiveness. "How the hell did you get out!" he demanded.

"The window," I said, through gritted teeth.

Forgetting our own quarrel for the moment, Severus held out his hand and I gave him the bound man's wand. He pressed his own wand's tip to that of the bound man's and intoned, "Prior Incantato."

The tips glowed green and, like smoke, a green skull and snake rose from between them. A small copy of the mark which hung in the sky above the branches of the trees.

Awful shivers and sobs had completely taken over the bound man's body. "Please!" he begged, his voice quaking. "I didn't want to!"

Severus showed no compassion, pointing his wand at the captive with dreadful intention. "Were you under the Imperius Curse?"

"N-no!" the man protested. "You don't understand! He would have– he would have–"

A fourth person's footsteps drummed upon the hard earth nearby, and Severus and I both turned our wands towards the sound. I recognised Arthur Weasley the moment he came into view, and he also stopped running as he took in the scene before him. I lowered my wand but Severus was none so quick to trust. "Ask him a question!" he said to me.

My stomach sank as I recognised the renewed necessity of the questions which I'd become used to during the war. I lifted my wand again, directing it at Arthur–or the person who appeared to be Arthur. His eyes were patient and he did not raise his wand in return, but I still respected the safety measure as I wracked my brain for a question only my adoptive father would know the answer to.

"What did you give me as a gift last spring?"

"A puzzle," he answered.

I lowered my wand and Severus did, too. Arthur closed the distance between us, his breath coming hard as he looked at the man knelt on the ground, who was now whimpering and crying, incapable of producing words.

"Is this the culprit?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, before Severus could respond. "But he did it against his will. He says he was forced into it by Fenrir Greyback."

Another cry of pain came from the man, and my heart palpitated empathetically.

Arthur bent down, bracing the heels of his hands on his knees. "And is Fenrir Greyback in London now?" he asked.

The man shook his head, but did not appear to be answering no. He was indicating that he was not at liberty to tell.

"Regardless," Arthur said, standing up again as he got his breath back. "London is not safe right now. The two of you need to go home at once. I will follow, but first I have to take this man in to the Ministry."

Severus was still pointing his wand roughly at the man, and another layer of tension entered his body at Arthur's suggestion that we go to the Burrow. I was not the only one to notice it, and Arthur looked at Severus with a forceful expression.

"I know what you're thinking, Severus," he said, his voice reasonable but strict. "You want to go off on your own. But hear this. You only have to be on one side now. Don't be on it halfway."

He looked at me and said, "Be safe," before taking hold of the bound man's elbow and disapparating, leaving Severus and me alone.

He had his back to me, that tension just as strong as it had been before Arthur's appeal.

"Take my hand," I said, reaching out to him stiffly.

He did not turn. The green light was still falling down eerily through the branches above, and the breeze moved his black hair. He hissed something under his breath that I couldn't make out, but I didn't bother asking for clarification. I could sense him on the verge of disregarding Arthur's advice and apparating on his own again.

"Severus," I insisted, my voice hard. "TAKE MY HAND."

He turned around, his face stormy, and grabbed onto my hand without meeting my eyes. I gripped him hard, pictured the Burrow, and we apparated.

The meadow beside the Burrow was rustling in the wind which rushed over the land from the ocean. The Burrow was faintly silhouetted against the dark sky, and its haphazard storeys seemed about to clatter like building blocks–but it stood firm. The wind howled against the resistance of the house, with its yellow windows. It was a house wide awake and alert, and I ran towards it, keeping my hand firmly in Severus's. Even if I didn't want anything to do with him right now, I didn't want him to send himself into terrible danger. He wasn't going to get away again. I was surprised by how easily he allowed himself to be led. Like a child who has, for the present time, given up.

There was a tightly coiled fear inside of the house, and when the door was opened to receive Severus and me, it unravelled into uproar.

George and Ron were the first to encounter us in the entryway, and George lifted his wand aggressively, pointing it at Severus. "Did you know about this?! Did you know this was going to happen!"

"No," Severus said, dark and bitter.

George stepped forward, pressing the tip of his wand to Severus's chest. "Prove it!"

"George, stop!" I shouted.

Bill entered from the kitchen and gripped George's shoulder firmly, but George shrugged him off and wheeled around angrily, gesturing to his ruined ear. "He gave me this! And that's the least of it!"

"George!" Molly's voice cut through the sizzling air, and the sharpness in her tone made George back down, though he still glared daggers at Severus as Bill pushed him deeper into the house.

There was a moment of silence, and I heard Victoire crying in the kitchen, where Fleur must have been sitting with her.

"Sorry about this, Wilma," Bill said, lifting his wand gently. "What was your favourite piece to hear played on the piano?"

The memory flooded back. Ginny and Bill had always played wonderfully, and whenever Bill had come home to visit they'd played duets on the upright piano in the sitting room. Ginny loved to play classical tunes, but Bill was the master of jazz. The piece I knew he was thinking of now had been in a book of muggle sheet music Arthur had brought home and begged Bill to sight read on one of his visits. He'd practised and practised until he could play it to perfection, and I was the only person in the family who didn't get bored of it. "'Round Midnight," I answered.

Bill was satisfied, and turned to look at Severus, but I put out my hand. "It's him," I said confidently, and Bill trusted me.

"Severus," Molly said at last, her voice desperate. "In the sitting room. Amos Diggory was attacked."

He was lying on the couch with a blanket over him, watched over by Ginny. She stood when we entered the room, and explained as Severus rushed to take her place at the man's side. "We found him in the woods by his house."

"Why are you trusting him?" George asked.

I turned on him and he went quiet under the heat of my glare. "Everyone has to leave the room," I said.

There was quiet as everyone did so, leaving Severus to search Amos Diggory's mind in relative silence. I walked into the kitchen where Fleur was rocking Victoire in her lap, soothing her crying. Teddy was sitting beside her and I went to him at once, picking him up in my arms and holding him protectively. His hands clutched at my robes. His hair was dark black, as dark as Harry's–who I only then noticed was absent. I had never seen Teddy's hair so dark before, and swayed him back and forth, desperate to cheer him up.

"It's okay," I said softly into his ear. But I could tell he didn't believe me, and his hair lightened only slightly to grey.

From the other room came an aggravated growl of frustration, and I knew that Severus had failed to see any further in Amos Diggory's memory than he had with the other victims. He appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, his face tight with disappointment. "The same," he said, addressing Molly and no-one else. "Cedric Diggory at the edge of the woods. He followed. Then, fog."

A pop sounded in the back garden, and a moment later Arthur came through the kitchen door. Molly's face trembled as she lifted her wand to question him. "The first song we danced to together."

"A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," Arthur said, no trace of happiness in his eyes as he spoke.

Molly lowered her wand, her mouth quivering.

"Around the table, everyone," Arthur said. Most of the family sat down, but I stayed standing, needing the soothing of the swaying motion just as much as Teddy did. Severus also remained on his feet, standing near the cabinets. Part of me was still afraid that he was going to disapparate at any moment. His pockets were still loaded with the potions he'd taken from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, for the journey he'd planned to take alone. Half of me wanted to reach out and take his hand, to forgive everything and show him my love. The other half loathed him for leaving me in a cage.

The wind whistled outside and Arthur's face looked very old in the lamplight. He spoke in a clear and measured voice. "Kingsley has said that we should all stay put, and that the Ministry will be able to handle the situation on its own."

"Bollocks!" Ron protested.

Arthur held up a hand. "Let me finish. I disagree with Kingsley. This is not another war. It is true that we are at less risk now than we were last time. The ministry has not been overtaken, and the fugitives are very much on their own. But I don't believe the Ministry will round them up as quickly as Kingsley thinks. We are the ones who know their moves, we are the ones who fought last time, and it's up to us to do something."

"Wait," I interjected. "I need to ask. The Hogwarts Express–"

"Aurors will surround King's Cross, and be stationed on the platform to keep the children safe," Arthur said.

"There's a student that has no family and needs protection," I continued. "Her name is Phoebe Elson."

Arthur nodded. "I will pass her name on to the Ministry so she can be collected and taken to a safe place. But right now, we need to figure out where each of us will go. Harry and Hermione are already tracking Dolohov up north, and McGonagall, Neville and others are after the Carrows. The rest of us need to spread out. We need a guard at Malfoy Manor, for starters."

"What about the creatures?" Ginny asked. "Should we be hunting them down too?"

"They can't be killed," I said. Many heads turned to me, and I felt the pressure build inside of me as I recalled Fred's cold, dead face. My voice shook as I spoke, but I kept going. "At least I don't think they can. I'm not sure they're living, exactly. I saw one in the Forbidden Forest tonight. Nothing happened when I tried the reductor curse, and it was completely immune to one of the centaurs' arrows."

"We should leave off hunting the creatures for now," Arthur decided. "Although there may be a connection between them and the fugitives, the latter should be our top priority. Now, there are multiple safe houses that have already been protected by the Ministry tonight, which we all can use. Nearby there's Harry and Ginny's house in Godric's Hollow. Arabella Figg has offered up her house. There's Grimmauld Place, of course, but we should avoid London for the time being. Up North there's Lupin's old cottage, in Eddleston south of Edinburgh."

Molly spoke. "Someone needs to take Amos to St. Mungo's. We can't just leave him here alone."

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "There have been four more victims in the last few hours alone–that we know of."

I thought again of Hagrid, the sudden stillness of his ink footsteps in the great hall. As the others continued to speak, still holding Teddy against me, I managed to manoeuvre the map out of my pocket. I unfolded it and spread it on one of the shelves, tapping it and whispering the words. Hagrid's footsteps were still standing in the exact same place. I felt my eyes welling with tears.

"I think one of them got Hagrid," I said aloud.

Again everyone looked at me, faces grave.

"Oi!" George said, seeing the map. His face was full of a sudden surge of anger. "Where the bloody hell'd you get that?"

"From him," I said, jerking my head in Severus's direction.

George stepped forward and held his hand out towards me, his eyes bitter, unlike himself. "Give it here," he said. "It's not yours."

I restrain my tears no longer at the sight of his cold and enraged expression, at the sound of his request. It was as though he had disowned me.

"It's not yours either," I said forcefully, hating that I was crying, finally giving into weakness after hours of stress and terror. "It belongs to Remus."

"Wilma should be the one to have it," Molly said.

"But it could be useful," Arthur mentioned. "Whichever of us goes to Scotland should be the one to keep it. Wilma…" His voice was soft, trying to reach me through my tears, and diffuse the sudden tension in the room. "What makes you say Hagrid's been attacked?"

Sniffling, I turned the map around so that the two immobile footprints could be seen. "He's been there since we were in Grimmauld Place."

George reached out and grabbed the map from me. Had Teddy not been in my arms, I'd have tackled him to get it back. But as it was, I stayed still, fuming. The stress of the Azkaban breakout had changed him beyond recognition, and I turned my face away, unable to bear it.

"Give it here, Fred," Arthur said.

There was a moment of shocked silence around the table as the weight of the mistake filled the air.

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry. George."

"Arthur!" Molly exclaimed in a pained whisper.

George's face went numb with rage. He set the map on the table, turned, and with a deafening crack, disapparated from inside the kitchen. Victoire began to cry–long, earsplitting strains. Fleur rocked her until she quieted.

It was taking all of my strength to remain standing, holding Teddy. It felt at that moment as though my life depended upon it. I hid my head in his small, innocent neck, as my body shook with tears. My knees were weak and I felt pale and devastated.

I was entirely shocked by the sudden feeling of Severus's hand on my shoulder. It seemed some strange and unexpected empathy had seized him. Again I longed to be able to surrender, to trust this momentary gentleness, but I couldn't even bring myself to look at him, and shrugged off his touch, distancing myself. He stepped away again.

"Ginny," Arthur said, recovering himself, but still holding his forehead with his hand. "You should be the one to go to Hogwarts, and bring Hagrid to St. Mungo's from there. Ron, you go with her, and meet up with Harry and Hermione in Hogsmeade. I believe they're headed there next."

Severus finally spoke. "I should go to St. Mungo's and see if anything can be salvaged from the minds of the other victims. I will take Diggory."

"And where would you go after that?" I said bitterly, my gaze sharp as I finally looked up at him. He returned my gaze guardedly.

"He wouldn't make it out, and neither would any of the patients," Arthur said. "If any one of the fugitives got wind of your presence there they would murder everyone in the hospital. There are other wizards and witches capable of legilimency. I am sorry, Severus. You cannot go."

Every bone in Severus's body was ringing with ire. I could sense it, and stepped back slightly, holding Teddy close.

"I cannot be any help," Fleur said suddenly, interrupting any altercation which might have ensued–though I could still feel it simmering in the air. "I must take Victoire somewhere safe." Bill had his hand on her shoulder, and his face was set and resigned.

"I agree that you should go," Molly said. "And so should Wilma, with Teddy."

"And you, Severus," Arthur said.

"Absolutely not," Severus countered.

Arthur's voice was forceful. "I'm afraid I have a message for you, directly from Kingsley. You must be most careful. More careful than the rest of us. Those who escaped tonight will not hesitate to kill you if they find you. In fact, you are likely one of a small number of people they are actively searching for."

"I know their ways!" Severus insisted.

"Kingsley has demanded that you go into hiding," Arthur said. "And that is one order I will not go against."

Without thinking I stepped forward and wrapped my hand around Severus's elbow, tightly. I had sensed that he would suddenly apparate as George had done, and knew that the only thing to stop him would be the threat of accidentally taking me with him. He looked at me with fire in his black eyes, but I stared back forcefully, determined.

"You will not have to hide for the duration of the conflict," Arthur assured him. "Once we have gained more organisation, and once we have cornered the majority of them, your physical skill will be required. In the meantime, your knowledge of their ways will be vital, but you must provide it from a place in which you are protected."

"Such as?" Severus said, his eyes razor-sharp. I could feel the tension in his arm through my hand, the barely-contained rage.

"What about our cottage?" I asked. I so badly wanted to go back there, to the innocence before everything bad had happened, before the first attack on Andromeda. When we had been so gentle, so capable of love.

"No," Arthur said. "It will not be safe for any of you in Britain."

"My grandmother," Fleur said. "She lives in a house in Belgium. In the countryside."

"Is your grandmother a Veela?" Arthur asked.

"No," Fleur said, with the slightest trace of defensiveness. "She is on my father's side."

"Very well. Send her a message at once."

Bill took Victoire from Fleur's arms so she could summon her patronus. I could tell from the way he held the baby girl that he was soaking in the feeling, knowing that it could be weeks before he saw his daughter again.

Fleur's non-corporeal patronus wavered into being, a small sphere of blue flame, and she spoke to it in French. It disappeared, and only a few moments passed before another patronus appeared in the room, a little field mouse, and spoke in an ageing woman's voice, also in French.

"She agrees," Fleur said, when the field mouse had vanished.

"Good," Arthur said. Then he stood up and directed his gaze upon Severus. He looked surprisingly powerful and unusually intimidating standing at the head of the table. "Severus. Do you agree, absolutely?"

I tightened my grip on Severus's arm. I saw the muscles in his neck tighten, struggling against what he was about to say. But they did not struggle for long. "Fine," he spat out.

I was suspicious of his surrender. I sensed that he was only agreeing so quickly because he knew there was no way out for the time being. He was planning, I was certain, to go off on his own at the soonest opportunity, once I was secured with everyone else at the safe house.

"Promise you won't leave," I heard myself say, as Teddy wriggled against my chest.

Severus looked down at me, his eyes brutally cold. "I promise," he said.

I knew he would break it. But at least, now, he had said it out loud.

I let go of his arm and broke eye contact.

The room surged into motion.

Ron picked up the Marauder's Map from the table. Ginny ran to me and embraced me, Teddy sheltered and warm between our bodies for a brief moment. Then she drew back. "Take care of yourself," she said.

"Isn't that what the older sister is meant to say to the younger?" I said.

She smiled a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Then she turned and joined Ron, and the two siblings held hands before apparating to Hogwarts.

"Bill," Arthur said, "please send a patronus to George. You're the only one he'll listen to, and we must at least know where he's gone. You should be the one to go to the Malfoy Manor. There are sure to be one or two aurors there already."

Bill kissed Fleur on the forehead, and handed Victoire back to her tenderly. He murmured something no-one else could hear, and Fleur looked up at him bravely and tearfully, nodding.

"I am going to create a portkey," Arthur said. "Molly, once they've gone, we will take Amos into London. From there… we'll see."

Arthur went out the kitchen door to find something to use in the shed. Travelling was going to be more difficult now without the floo network. It was apparation, portkeys, flying, or on foot. I knew that travelling by portkey in my condition was dangerous. But it was a risk that had to be taken.

Severus had not said a word or looked at me again since making his promise, and it was a relief when Molly gave me a reason to leave his suffocating presence. "You should gather some clothes for yourself, Wilma," she said, easing Teddy from my arms. "Leave those robes here."

Without a word I turned and ran up the stairs. I held back tears as I passed by the doors of my adoptive siblings, and then finally reached my own room. The wind was battering the windowpane, and the trees were tossing their heads in the woods that were visible through the window. The waning gibbous moon sat in an ever-changing bed of clouds.

I stood on top of my bed to pull a spare carpetbag from the top of my bookshelf. I had to shake dust from it as I stepped down onto the floor and pulled my dresser drawer open, stuffing random clothes and warm socks into the bag. I then stripped off my robes and tugged on a pair of trousers, a button-up shirt, and a warm jumper, putting on as many layers as I could. I also folded my old travelling cloak into the carpetbag before clasping it shut. I stepped into my old sturdy boots, and then hurried downstairs without a last look around the room. There was no time to be sentimental.

"Sixty seconds," Arthur warned when I got downstairs, and I hurried out the front door into the meadow, where the others had already gathered around the portkey–a battered tin watering can.

Fleur had used a swaddling cloth to secure Victoire more tightly to her chest, and Molly helped me do the same with Teddy after she handed him to me.

I watched Severus, standing tall and silent in the darkness. I feared that he would let go of the portkey early in order to escape. But then I remembered sense. He would not risk landing in the middle of the sea. He would ensure that I was safe, and then he would slip away silently, when I was asleep.

"Quick, now!" Arthur prompted, looking at his wristwatch. "Ten seconds!"

Molly kissed my cheek firmly, her face hard with determination. "I love you, my strong, beautiful daughter."

Fleur was carefully kneeling onto the wind-tossed grass, one hand cradling Victoire's head and the other reaching out to grip the head of the watering can.

Severus knelt as well, and took hold of the handle.

I lowered myself slowly–"Three seconds!"–and tightly wrapped my fingers around the spout. Victoire began to whimper and cry piercingly, and I looked over at Severus, whose expression was dark and fathomless.

I clenched my eyes shut and bent my lips to touch Teddy's soft grey hair as the wind began to howl. And then we were spinning.

NOTE

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story.