CHAPTER 11

Zoe and I are sitting at her small mahogany kitchen table in her loft, which is just a short walk from the Three Broomsticks. It's been silent for almost five minutes, basically since I told her about my meeting with Voldemort. Zoe's been looking down at her hands with a horrified, sickly expression, while I've been trying to look anywhere other than her because I can't risk meeting her eyes right now.

Out the window to my left is a beautiful view of the village. I can just see the towers of Hogwarts, and I am struck with the strong urge to go see McGonagall. But I don't really want to. Not right now at least. To my right, spurring from the far wall with the door, two large empty, backless bookcases serve as partitions to offer her bed some privacy from the living area that is currently cluttered with boxes, which I'm guessing contains all the books and knickknacks that will actually block the bedroom area from the living area. "What're you painting?" I ask her quietly, motioning to unfinished piece of art on the easel against the window opposite the bookcases.

She looks up quickly, terror on her face for a split second, then calms and says, "You're asking about that now?"

"Well, you weren't speaking, so I thought . . . why not?"

A sad smile comes across her face. "I'll tell you all about it later. Right now though . . ." Her honey eyes fill with compassion. "Charlotte, be honest with me. Is there anything I can do?"

I shake my head slightly. "Nothing can stop what's been put in motion."

Zoe reaches across the table and takes my hand. "You haven't told the Gryffindor this?"

"I don't know how."

"But do you want to?"

"I don't know that either. I mean, of course I want to stop lying to him, but I don't really want to tell him what I have to do. What if he views me differently? What if decides he can't be with me because of it? What if—"

"If he decides not to be with you, is he even worth it?"

I clear my throat. "I love him." Zoe releases my hand and watches me intently. "And he loves me. I just . . . don't want to ruin what we have."

She smiles deviously and says, "'Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.' If you can't change what's going to happen to you, and you've made it rather clear that there's nothing anyone can do, you'll have to tell him eventually, you know."

"I know." I grin at her. "Stop quoting him. That was one of his, right?"

"Ah, c'mon, Marcus, don't be such a downer. So why did you decide to tell me all of this?"

I sigh quietly. "You're not connected to the Order or to the Death Eaters. You're a neutral zone, and I feel like I need that right now, you know? Someone who isn't mixed up with either group."

She nods and offers me a sad smile.

I don't want to go back to Spinner's End just yet, despite the fact that it is getting a little late. If I return now, I will have no choice but to admit that today was a failure. I didn't tell Fred the truth and instead told Zoe.

"You need a distraction, don't you? A reason not to return to Snape's just yet?"

"Yes, please."

She gets up and walks to the area behind the bookcases where her bed is slightly hidden, returning just a few short minutes later. Waving her wand, she clears everything off the table and sets down a rolled up canvas. "This is the painting I'm most proud of." Then she unrolls it, a nervous smile on her face.

I find myself smiling when I see it. A tall, strong-jawed man in a tuxedo smiles lovingly at the woman on his arm whose head reaches his mid-chest, a woman who looks shockingly like Zoe. She wears a white dress, one that appears to be a wedding dress. The two of them gaze at each other, laughing, caught off guard. "It's beautiful. Are these—are they your parents?"

"Yes." A small framed picture flies into the room and into her hand. "It was based on this, taken on their wedding day." The photo she shows me looks almost identical to the oil painting.

"And you did this, by yourself?"

She nods, a sad smile on her face. "Not long after they died. I never let them see any of my paintings. Now it's too late."

"Why didn't you?" I can't draw my eyes away from her parents. They were so in love, and happy. And from how Zoe seems to miss them, I can only assume they were good parents. That familiar envy stirs in my chest. She had a family. She was loved by her parents. And I am not.

"I was always shy about it."

"But it's amazing."

She doesn't reply, and I look up to see her wiping silent tears.

I stand and pull her to her feet as well. Then, still looking at the painting, I wrap my arms around her, not realizing how badly I needed to be held right now as well. "I'm sure they'd be proud of you."

"They always said they were."

Another stirring of envy. Her parents were proud of her for painting, and mine hate me for living on my own for five years. My parents hate me for teaching myself magic. My parents hate me for learning to live in caves and learning to care for myself. Well, parent. But still.

"But I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around," she says.

She's been without her parents for a few years now, but at least she had them once. I have to get out here. But I can't just up and leave right now, that would be rude, wouldn't it?

I don't know. I just have to get out of here.

When she pulls away from me, I ask, "What time is it?"

Zoe looks around the room, trying to find a clock that apparently isn't yet set up. Finally, she resorts to summoning her wristwatch from the living area. "Almost eleven."

I can use Snape as an excuse to get out of here. "I have to head back. I'm not supposed to be out this late—I told Snape I'd be back soon."

She nods understandingly. "Owl me."

"I'll do my best."

I Disapparate.

The moment I arrive inside Spinner's End, I see Snape walking up the stairs. He turns when he hears the pop. "Back so soon? You surprise me, Rodgers."

"I couldn't tell him," I admit, though I thought I'd be able to keep this from him. Snape comes back down the steps, a surprised expression on his face. "I know, please don't lecture me."

"I didn't plan on it."

I don't want to be alone just yet, which means I have to keep him from going to sleep just yet. And I know what I want to learn—what I would like to be able to do. I don't know why I want to do it in this moment, but I know that I want to do it. And I know it'll buy me some time before I have to be alone with my failures. "Could—could you teach me—could—"

"Last time I checked, I've been teaching you all summer."

I smile in spite of myself. "That's true. But this time, I was just wondering if—could you teach me the Patronus Charm?"

He grimaces a bit. "And you believe you can create one in your current state?"

"Not really, but I don't want to go to sleep just yet." I look away and confess, "I don't want to be alone right now."

He's silent, and I immediately change my mind about this. I'm about to say so when Snape asks, "Have you had any experience with creating them before?"

"Only non-corporeal."

"So you know that you must think of the happiest memory you can?" I guess this means he'll teach me. "That's good. Most people don't even know that when they first start to learn." I don't want to tell him that Harry tried teaching us last year and that I just failed at it. Snape leads me into the basement and removes all of his potion things as normal. Then he motions around the room. "Give it a try."

I take a deep breath. "Expecto Patronum!" A little sliver of silver light comes from the end of my wand, but it doesn't even become a non-corporeal Patronus. I almost don't care that I didn't perform it properly because it means that I can be in his presence for just a short while longer before I find myself alone.

"What were you thinking of?"

"When I found out that I am a witch."

"Think of something else. It must be stronger than that."

I exhale slowly. "Expecto Patronum!" The non-corporeal form of the Patronus Charm bursts from the tip of my wand. This gives me enough confidence to try again before Snape can say anything. "Expecto Patronum!" Again, it is only non-corporeal.

"It's better. Try again. Make it a happier memory."

Because I have such a large selection of those. This was a mistake. But at least I'm not alone right now, and that makes the failures worth it. "Can you create one?"

He just watches me, and while he looks slightly angry, I can't be sure if he actually is because he is such a hard man to read. Then he says, "Yes."

"What form does it take?"

"Try it again."

I nod, accepting that he doesn't want to answer that question. I can do this. Voldemort does not have to strip away all my happiness. I can do this. Fred's face flashes through my mind. The two of us are standing outside of the Burrow, our arms wrapped around each other. He loves me. And I love him. My heart lightens. "Expecto Patronum!"

The same silver light as before comes from the tip of my wand, but after a moment, it disappears. I sigh and give myself a moment to gather my thoughts. Then two things come to mind—sitting by the lake studying for my exams with Zoe and Daphne, and successfully keeping Snape out of mind. My heart lightens instantly. I can do this. My duty isn't for a while, and I am learning to prepare for it. I can do this. I cast the spell again, thinking about our study sessions and my practices here, and the silver light springs from my wand. For a moment, I believe it will simply disappear once more, or stop when it reaches the non-corporeal form. Instead, the silver grows until it forms into a panther that glides across the room. It reaches Snape and bounces away, coming back to me, its teeth bared, its tail flicking back and forth, and stops in front of me. When I reach out to touch it, it disappears, and I can't bring myself to look away from where it had been to look at Snape.

A smile cracks across my face. I actually didn't expect to succeed. Now your lesson is over and you'll have to be alone once more.

When I finally look back at him, he doesn't look proud like I had thought he would. In fact, his cold face is like stone. "Creating a Patronus under calm circumstances is different than when you are being attacked."

"I figured it would be, but I'm just thrilled I was able to make one at all." And it makes me feel like less of a failure—I failed to tell Fred the truth, but at least I did this charm right.

Snape nods. "It's an accomplishment. Creating a Patronus at all is considered advanced magic." He dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wand. "Do not be too thrilled, though, Miss Rodgers. We will now begin nonverbal duels."

A small, grateful smile comes to my face. "Are you sure?"

"You asked me to teach you the Patronus Charm. You accomplished that. Now it is time for the lessons that actually matter. Ready?"

This gives me more time before I'm alone. He knows this, and I think he's doing this for my benefit. And I'm so grateful though I doubt I'd admit that to him right now. "Um, sure." We give each other a quick bow and raise our wands.

The first thing I do is cast the Shield Charm for protection. It deflects Snape's spell and sends it back toward him, but he easily blocks it.

Despite how much I hated him after the Mrs. Stoico memory thing, I have to agree, begrudgingly of course, that nonverbal spells have been much easier for me to perform.

I drop the shield and cast the Conjunctivitis Curse at him, which Snape easily dodges while conjuring a steel ball. The ball soars at me, but I reduce its size and jump to the side, smiling as it whacks the stone wall behind me with no more noise than had it been a marble. I quickly aim my wand back at him and try to expel his wand, and as expected, he stops the spell and returns one of his own. A red line of light zooms straight at me. I throw up the shield and instinctively leap to the side again.

Birds shoot from the end of my wand and fly toward him. When they get close enough, I silently scream, "Expulso!" at each of them, causing each to explode in tiny flames. But when they fade away completely, Snape is still standing, having been guarded by the Shield Charm, looking as if he's not the least bit tired. What a waste. I cast the Stunning Spell at him, but it does no good, again thanks to his shield. Snape casts a spell at me in the same moment I throw the Knockback Jinx at him. My spell hits him, finally, and rams him into the stone wall behind him, while I'm hit with the Bat-Bogey Hex and let out a pained shriek. It takes me a moment to rid myself of them and another moment to stifle down the pain in my nose.

By the time I've returned my focus to the task at hand, Snape is standing again and has cast another spell at me. It throws me into the air, smacks me against the ceiling, and slams me into the floor. I quickly put the shield over myself, another of his attacks hitting it and rebounding into the wall while I pull myself to my feet. I point my wand back at Snape and cast one of his own spells at him: Levicorpus. It pulls him into the air upside down.

I can almost swear I hear him chuckle before hitting me with the Impediment Jinx and freezing me in place for a moment.

He drops himself onto the floor.

I throw the Stinging Hex at him, somehow managing to hit in the leg. He grunts, and I pause for a moment to delight in his pain, but Snape recovers too quickly and retaliates by expelling my wand from my hand. "Never rejoice in a successful attack," he says softly. "You never know when your victim is simply playing you for a fool, waiting for your moment of pause before finishing you off."

I nod at him, slightly humiliated that I was so stupid, breathing more heavily than I should be for a duel that didn't last very long.

"Had this been a real battle, Miss Rodgers, and had I been someone trying to actually kill you, I doubt if you would be standing there now."

He hands me my wand back.

"You've been practicing," he says as he waves his wand and replaces all the potion things then goes to the door.

"Every night before I go to sleep."

He nods approvingly. "We will resume your lessons tomorrow." As we walk up the steps and out of the basement, he comments threateningly, "Never again use one of my spells against me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Snape seems to be debating something as he closes the basement door and locks it. Then he meets my eye and says slowly, "I will leave the Anti-Disapparation Jinx off my house so long as you do not try to take advantage and run off again."

I nod at him.

"You will begin your duties as Wormtail in the morning."

I knew his kind streak wouldn't extend to our deal, but I suppose I should be grateful that he let me wallow for a few days after my meeting with Voldemort, because he didn't even really have to do that. "I would expect nothing less, Professor. Am I to have your breakfast prepared before you wake up?"

"Preparing it before nine should suffice."

"Should I try to cook it myself?"

"Do not set my house on fire."

We walk in silence up the next flight of steps and before Snape opens his bedroom door, the door that is always locked, I clear my throat and say, "Thank you, Professor. For all you've taught me since I moved in here—even though you didn't really want to. I really do appreciate it." I rush off to my borrowed room before he has a chance to reply.

Only after I've closed the door and have sat down on my bed do I let the day's events finally hit me with full force. I'm a terrible person. I don't deserve any of the kindness people show me.

I told Zoe the truth, the whole truth, rather than telling Fred. I love Fred, yet I cannot bring myself to admit what I have to do. What does that make me? I don't even really want to know what that makes me.

But if I get out of this, I will never have to tell Fred anything.

What are the chances of that, though?

Not very good.

But I can't lie to Fred anymore.

And there's no way to stop this.

Or is there?

I drop to the floor in front of my trunk and take out a bottle of ink, a quill, and parchment.

I have to stand up for myself. I have to tell the truth. So that's what I'm going to do.

And if he kills me, so be it. At least I won't have all of these lies anymore.

This is why you cannot get attached to people, Charlotte.

My first letter, one long confession of all my lies, one long apology, is addressed to Fred. If he chooses to mourn me after learning the truth, that's his choice. But he deserves to know the truth before wasting his time being upset over my death.

The second letter is one long thank you to McGonagall. She helped me a great deal when I was at Hogwarts, and therefore deserves some kind of acknowledgement, as well as an apology.

I scribble a quick note to Zoe, thanking her for accepting me even after she learnt what I am supposed to do for Voldemort.

Narcissa gets a quick thanks for being so kind.

Andromeda and Tonks are the last people I address. That day I spent with the Tonkses was great because of their kindness. I wish I had a chance to get to know them better.

I gather the folded pieces of parchment into my hand and leave my room. Tears threatening, I knock on Snape's door. When I get no answer, I say softly, "Professor, I know you can't be asleep yet. Please."

It takes another minute before he opens the door in a long nightshirt. It catches me off guard, and after a short moment of my silence, he says, "Rodgers. What do you want?"

"I'm sure you understand the predicament I find myself in with Vol—the Dark Lord. And no matter what I say or do, I won't be fine with what I have to do. I will never willingly do what he wants me to do."

He doesn't say a word.

I look down at my feet. "And it kills me that I can't tell the truth to the people I want to, because I am so afraid of losing them. He will never choose anyone else other than me because of who I am, I know that. And I am left with no choice, it seems. But I cannot have his child."

"Rodgers," he says, not unkindly, "we've had this argument before. There is no other way."

"But there is. It's not ideal, and it's certainly not my first choice, all things considered. But I can't live with the knowledge of my duty, and I can't live like this anymore, in fear and with all these lies." So many lies.

I hold the letters out to him, and he accepts them. "What are these?"

"Apologies. Confessions. Each is addressed to someone, and I am asking you to ensure that they are delivered to the right people."

His face becomes serious. "You're planning to take your own life." It's not a question, because I'm sure, even if he doesn't know exactly what I'm planning, he has the general idea. "You're planning to give up entirely because you don't like telling lies? After everything? Do you think anyone enjoys lying to the people who trust them? You think you're alone that?"

"I'm not planning to take my own life. But I am going to tell the truth. One last truth. And if he decides that my transgressions are reason enough to kill me . . ." I look away from him for a moment. "Anyways, thank you for all you've done. And I'm sorry it ended up being such a waste."

"Charlotte, you can't—"

"I don't really have a choice, Professor. I won't have his child."

"Charlotte—"

"Promise me you will deliver those if he kills me. Please."

He watches me for a moment before coming to the conclusion that arguing with me is not the way to persuade me to change my mind. So he switches tactics. "What're you planning on doing?" There is a distinct but hidden laughter in his voice, a stark contrast to his kind tone from moments ago.

"Just promise you'll relay the messages."

"What are going to do?" Still the hint of mockery in his voice.

"I'm going to Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord has ruined my life enough. He will know that I will not do his bidding. I don't care if he rips me limb from limb, if he peels the flesh from my bones, if he Cruciates me to the point of insanity like Bellatrix did to the Longbottoms. He will know that I will never support him, that I will never have his child. My mother can take my position. I don't care. I can't keep lying like this, it's killing me—and if he decides to kill me, at least then all the truth will come out."

"You think you can throw everything away that easily?" Now Snape is openly laughing, but it's not a real laugh. It's like he's trying to tell me that my reasoning is faulty, that this is no reason to throw my life away. But I don't want to hear it. "Do you really believe you're the only person who has ever been forced to do things for the Dark Lord that they would rather not do? Do you believe yourself that unique in his ranks? Do not fool yourself."

"Just make sure those get to the right people. Tell Mrs. Weasley, too, that I'm sorry."

"What makes you think I'll ever have contact with them?" I think he's just trying to waste time.

I meet his black eyes. "Please."

He must see it on my face that I'm about to Apparate, for he lunges at me.