CHAPTER 13

Only after Apparating to Spinner's End do I realize how surprising that actually is. I had just assumed that Snape would keep the Anti-Disapparation Jinx on his home while I was gone so I could not return. But he didn't, and now I find myself alone in the sitting room of Snape's house. Perhaps I should try to find him and apologize. I've been a horrid house guest, and he doesn't deserve that.

I'm making my way to the stairs to find him and apologize when my whole body goes stiff as a board and I collapse to the floor. What the—? "Did I not tell you that you should not return?" Snape walks into my line of sight. "You asked the Dark Lord to come here, yet all you do is try to escape. I have too much to worry about without adding your desire to run away." He crouches down beside me, his eyes scraping over me until he locates the pocket where I keep my wand. Then he reaches his hand into that pocket and steals it. "So, from this point until the end of the holiday, you are no longer my problem." He stands back up and takes a step away from me before releasing the Body-Binding Curse and magically pulling me to my feet. "You will spend the rest of the holiday at Malfoy Manor—"

"No, I—"

"—under the watchful eye of your mother, who seems more than pleased to lock you away. Your things are already there."

"Professor Snape, please, I'm sorry! Please don't make me stay there with her! Please!"

"Your actions have consequences, Rodgers. Perhaps now you'll learn that."

"Please don't do this. I'll do anything."

He simply glowers at me, grabs me by the arm, and Apparates with me. I already know where I am before gathering my bearings: we're at Malfoy Manor. I look over and find Bellatrix, a cruel smile on her face, standing in the drawing room when Snape and I arrive. He releases me and walks to the mother and gives her my wand. "Snape."

He glances at me. "I truly wish you the best of luck with that one." Then he Disapparates, leaving me alone with Bellatrix Lestrange.

We watch each other in silence until, a few seconds later, I say, "So am I to assume I'll be living in your room with you or . . .?"

"The cellar." She takes my arm and leads me to that awful magic-muffling dungeon. I don't attempt to fight because being beaten by my mother right now is in no way an appealing prospect. "It should suffice."

"And I'm to stay here for the rest of the holiday?"

"You lived in the Muggle dunghill. This should be an upgrade for you." Bellatrix takes me down to the cellar door and pushes it open. I find my trunk and rucksack on the floor already. I wonder how long they've been waiting for me to arrive so they could do this.

"Just when I thought I had officially said goodbye to living in caves and the like."

Bellatrix says nothing, just releases me, and walks away, closing and locking the door behind her. Only two torches light the large room, and I drag my things under one of them so I can have as much light as possible. Anything could be hiding in those dark corners, and I find myself pulling my knees to my chest. Though I don't have a wand or the ability to use magic, I'm not completely weaponless so long as Snape removed nothing from my trunk.

I reach inside of trunk and bring out that wooden box with my letters and the D.A. coin. None of those things will offer me any protection down here, but the knife will. I pluck it from the box and hold it in my hand. It's the first time I've held it since that fateful day when I took that Death Eater's life. I feel ill with this thing in my hands. I don't even know why I kept it when I should have buried it somewhere, but . . . I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to part with it.

I fill my rucksack with clothes and lie down on it like a pillow, clutching the knife tightly in my hands, and close my eyes.

Somehow, I manage to drift off, but the creaking cellar door wakes me far too soon. I quickly stuff the knife inside my rucksack again. Bellatrix closes the door and approaches me. "Dinner."

"That's not my name."

Apparently, I'm not worth an answer, for she sets the plate on the floor about three arms' lengths away from me and walks back out of the cellar.

It's just a cheese sandwich, as I soon find out.

When Bellatrix returns twenty minutes later, I'm waiting just inside the door to return the plate. "Mother Dearest," I say before she enters the cellar, "could I get some water?" She waves her wand—a glass of water flies to her hand—and then walks toward me. "So is this how it'll be for the rest of the holiday? I live in this dark dungeon, you deliver my meals with perhaps four words spoken, I sleep on the stone floor with constant flashbacks of my life on the run?"

"You're safe here."

"I was safe at Spinner's End."

"You don't need to live in that place anymore."

"It's better than living in a dungeon."

"Perhaps you should have considered that before trying to run away."

"I wasn't running away for good. I was just trying to get away from Snape for a short while. Can you really blame me for that?" Bellatrix seems slightly amused, and I'm almost proud of that. "But really, is all of this necessary? Without my wand, I won't be able to run off. Do I have to stay down here?"

"This is your punishment, and you will serve it."

I sigh. "I guess I didn't really expect any different. Well, thanks for the water, Mum." Both of us freeze at my slip of the tongue. "I . . . I'm sorry, I—"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, without a word, she turns around and retreats from the cellar.

Bellatrix does not return to deliver my meals in person after that. The only resident of the manor I see for the next six days is Cosmo the house-elf. And I almost believe he's been commanded not to speak with me, because I cannot get him to utter a single word no matter what I say or do. He'll come in, place my food on the floor next to me, and disappear without a word. This is my life now. And really, I deserve it considering how horrible I was to Snape.

A hand on my shoulder wakes me, and I snatch the knife from under my rucksack, pull the legs out from whoever grabbed me—they emit a startled grunt as they hit the stone floor—and hop on top of them, pressing the blade to their throat. Through my heavy breathing and the panic rising in me, I vaguely register a gentle voice whispering, "Aurelia—Aurelia, calm down."

I finally come to my senses. I'm not currently being hunted by Death Eaters. Rather, I'm in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. And I have my mother pinned to the floor with a knife to her neck. What looks like blood is trickling around the blade, and I quickly jerk it away and roll off her. I push myself to my feet and look down at where she sits, a cloth I register to be one of my shirts pressed against her neck where I cut her.

"I . . . I didn't mean—"

"Do you always sleep with a weapon under your head?" she asks, removing my shirt from her neck and placing it with the rest of my things.

"Since I was ten. I never knew who might attack me."

Bellatrix looks as if she wants to say something but decides against it. I offer her my hand and help her back to her feet. "I really do apologize for that. I didn't mean to."

"I can fix it when we get out of the cellar."

"I'm leaving the cellar?"

"For now." She places her hand on my back and directs me up the stairs.

"Where've you been?"

"The Dark Lord required my assistance."

Could she be any vaguer? "Everything went well, I'm assuming. Though I'm sure it always goes well when you're involved, doesn't it?"

"You're mistaken if you think I'll relinquish your wand for a few words of flattery."

"Perhaps I was just trying to compliment my mother." I dart my eyes toward her, but she is resolutely not looking over at me. "However, I was hoping—"

"No, you may not leave."

"That wasn't really what I was planning on asking. I wanted to go see Draco."

Finally, she looks at me. "I believe he's still in his room. Why don't you run up there while I see how far along the house-elves with your breakfast?"

I don't waste any time rushing off to Draco's room. He is closing the door behind him as he leaves. "Draco!"

He turns and smiles when he sees me. "Charlotte?"

"I need to ask you a huge favor." I motion toward his room, and we both enter. "I need to borrow your wand."

This takes him completely off guard. "Why?"

"Bellatrix has mine, and I can't get it back. But there's someone I need to see. I need to tell them I won't be able to spend any more time with them this holiday."

"Who and why can't you?"

I scramble for a lie that does not include the Weasleys, because I know Draco will never approve of that. "Zoe Accrington." That's not much better though because he hates her too. "And because I am currently being punished and am being forced to stay in the cellar down there without magic. Bellatrix let me out this morning, but I doubt it'll last. And I need Zoe to not worry about me. Please, Draco."

"Charlotte, I don't think—"

"I just need a wand to Apparate. I'll be gone five minutes at most."

After a short minute, he sighs, "Fine. But I'm trusting you greatly by doing this. And this means everything is behind us, all love, all fights, all animosity—it's gone. Deal?"

"As long as you abide by the same rules, deal."

He hands me his wand, and I Disapparate. I open the door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and search frantically for Fred. He's by the register today, and I rush toward him. "Fred!"

He looks up at the sound of my voice and comes around the counter to greet me with a swift kiss. "Where've you been? We've been so worried!"

"I'm safe and fine and unharmed, but I've been locked away. I have three minutes before I have to Apparate back to the manor. I can't come by the shop any more during the holiday. They're angry, and I can't risk anything."

"Wait—"

"I'm really sorry, but that's all I can say. I'm safe though, and that's all that matters."

"Yes, yes, of course. And you'd tell me if you were in danger?"

"Yes, I swear, but I really must go. I love you."

"I love you too."

I peck his cheek before Disapparating. "Did I make it back in time?" I ask Draco.

He nods, taking his wand back. "You had thirty seconds to spare. Now you should get down to the kitchen before your mother comes looking for you."

I walk down to the kitchen where Bellatrix waits with someone I was not expecting to see until I returned to Hogwarts: Severus Snape. He sits at the table with my mother, both of them looking completely indifferent at their current circumstances. "Professor?" I take a seat across from him and next to Bellatrix.

"Rodgers."

"I don't understand."

"Your punishment has been served," Bellatrix says airily. "You are to return to the Muggle dunghill with Snape."

I look between the pair of them. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You are to return with him to continue your training in nonverbal spells."

"Will I get my wand back?"

"No," Snape answers flatly. "You cannot be trusted with it. The only time you will need your wand is during your lessons. Beyond that, it will be out of your reach."

"But—"

"Do not argue," Snape says. "It's time for us to leave."

"But—"

"Hush," Bellatrix demands.

"But I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand?" Snape asks coolly. "You're leaving Malfoy Manor and returning to Spinner's End. I believe that's straightforward. Of course, you did spend five years uneducated, living in caves, so it makes sense that you wouldn't understand even the simplest—"

"Don't patronize me."

He smirks. "You know such big words for a child who grew up alone."

"Shut up," I hiss at him.

"Or you'll what? You have no wand, no weapon. What could you possibly do to me?"

I turn to my mother. "Couldn't I just stay here with you rather than returning to that hellhole with him?"

"No, Miss Rodgers"—she must assume Snape does not know of my true parentage—"not unless you would prefer to be locked in the cellar for the rest of the holiday."

"I'll take that over being stuck with him."

Bellatrix shakes her head. "From what I've gathered, you don't want to live like that anymore."

"Would you live with that man if given the chance to live anywhere else?"

Snape stands to his feet. "I believe I've heard quite enough. Enjoy your time in the dungeon."

"Wait," Bellatrix says. "Char—Charlotte, you must go with him. You cannot live in the cellar any longer. That was a punishment for your actions, a punishment which has now been served."

I level my gaze at her. "I'm sure there are other places in this manor where I can live."

"No. You must leave with Snape."

With an exaggerated groan, I stand up and walk around to where the professor stands. "I'm guessing it's time for me to leave Malfoy Manor, Professor." I smile coldly at Snape while taking his hand in mine and squeezing it uncomfortably tightly. His lip curls viciously. "Shall we Disapparate?" We do just that, and the moment we reach Spinner's End, I release Snape's hand. "How did you manage to get me out of that? And where's my wand?"

"You were never meant to stay there for the rest of the holiday. The Dark Lord would not have approved when he wanted you to learn how to duel. However, it was he who suggested putting you there as a punishment for not being compliant. And—"

"So it's safe to assume that when it comes time for me to fulfill my duty to Voldemort—the Dark Lord, sorry, don't yell at me like I can see you're planning to do—when that time comes, he'll punish me for not being compliant?" I sit down unsteadily on the sofa. "But his punishments will be more severe, won't they? He'll probably Cruciate me or—or worse." I meet his eyes. "Professor, I can't do this. Please, just let me have my wand—you can say I stole it from you or something. Please just let me escape this. Please."

Snape suddenly looks overly uncomfortable. "I can't do that."

"What will he do to me if I resist him? If he learns that I've been taught Occlumency?"

"You must become efficient enough that he will not know you have been taught."

I lean back on the sofa and look at him skeptically. "Is that even possible?"

"Yes."

"I'll just have to practice more often and put more effort into it?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yes. But we won't be working on Occlumency today."

"Nonverbal spells then?"

He shakes his head. "Not today." I watch him quizzically, so he explains, "Today you will learn how to be the new Wormtail of Spinner's End. We had a deal, as I'm sure you remember."

I grimace but don't argue because I could very well be back in the cellar if I don't watch my temper. "Of course I remember. What all does my new position require me to do?"

"You will need to cook our meals, clean the house, do whatever needs to be done."

"All without magic, I'm assuming?"

"The only time you will hold your wand in your hand is during our lessons."

I nod, knowing that there is no point in arguing with him. "And the no-wand thing is because I kept running away, and not because of the deal, right?"

"Correct."

"And will you be teaching me how to cook?"

"There is a book in the kitchen with recipes. Follow the instructions, and all should be fine."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "And you trust me not to burn the house down, do you?"

"No, but I will be in the house while you are cooking, and should you find yourself catching the place on fire, all you have to do is ask for help."

"And you'll help me cook?"

"No, I'll put out the fire."

"And everything I need should be in the kitchen?"

"It should."

"And if it's not?"

"It should be there."

"But if it's not?" He gives me a frustrated look, and I raise my hands in surrender. "Fine, it should be there. Is there anything in particular that I have to cook?"

"Not today."

When lunchtime rolls around, I know I should be frustrated with this arrangement, despite the fact that it was my idea in the first place (of course, when we struck the deal, I had assumed there'd be magic involved, but it's clear I ruined that for myself), but I can't bring myself to be irritated about it. Without my new position as replacement Wormtail of Spinner's End, I would be locked in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. And no matter what I said to Bellatrix, I would rather be here than there. Mostly because I hate the thought of being trapped under the same roof as Voldemort—in particular, being trapped and magicless under the same roof as Voldemort.

Over the next few weeks, I fall into a routine. I start breakfast as soon as possible each morning (it typically ends up burnt), then clean the kitchen. The nonverbal duels begin once that is finished, and they continue until it's time to make lunch (almost always something easy, like sandwiches), which is immediately followed by Occlumency lessons. Those lessons last until it's time to start dinner (it, too, typically ends up burnt, though surprisingly Snape has yet to complain about a single meal; and while I'm not even sure why he allows me to cook after the Occlumency lessons considering what he said before, I'm afraid to ask and upset him). After dinner, I clean the kitchen once more and meet Snape back in the basement for potion-making lessons, which I have never asked for but am nevertheless pleased to receive.

While he won't actually say it aloud—and it's doubtful he ever will because I will not ask him—I suspect he's teaching me the potions my class learned in their first through fourth years at Hogwarts. I recognize them from the textbooks from my time on the run. He has me work on these potions while he does something else with a cauldron on the other side of the room and then offers feedback for what I have concocted. Part of me also believes he's only doing this because it provides time for him to work on something he wants or needs to while not having to worry about me destroying the house or trying to run away again. Whatever his reason for having me brew potions does matter because it's an easygoing way to spend the evenings that quickly becomes one of my favorite times of the day.

Whenever Snape leaves Spinner's End (whether it has something to do with Voldemort or the Order is unclear, and I refuse to ask because I have not spoken an ill word toward him nor questioned him at all in fear it might result in my being locked up at Malfoy Manor again), he has me clean the house, every room except his, which is still kept closed and locked. While it's possible my wand might be locked away in there, I can't be sure because that room has been shut tightly since the day I tried telling Voldemort that I refuse to serve him.

Our steady routine is ruined one night as I am cooking dinner. My having either read the instructions incorrectly or done something incorrectly, the pan of chicken on the stove bursts into flames, and in a panicked, knee-jerk reaction, I grab my glass of water and toss it onto the flames—the fire spreads across the stove, and I stumble away from it, crying out, "Prof-Professor!"

I dart out of the kitchen and ram into Snape, who is rushing into the kitchen, and we both fall to the floor. "You're crushing me!" I struggle to say.

Snape quickly gets up to his feet and waves his wand at the growing fire. The flames disappear. "You set my kitchen on fire."

I push myself to my feet, holding my side. "Well, you broke my ribs, so I guess we're even." I walk over to the pan of chicken and lift it up to inspect the completely charred and destroyed chicken, then drop the pan back onto the stove with a loud clatter.

"What were you attempting—"

"I don't know, I was just following the instructions! It said to add more oil and—I'm never using the stove again. I'll just bake chicken from now on, and you can have that for every meal. And you can put it on sandwiches if you get tired of just having chicken. I just—I give up on this whole cooking thing, I'm clearly not cut out for it."

Snape begins laughing, begins actually laughing at me and the disgruntled look that's no doubt on my face. "As long as the chicken isn't burnt—"

"Shut up! I have been doing my best—"

"And you've gotten better."

"—but I surrender now! I am no cook!"

"It was one meal. You set the kitchen on fire one time in—"

"Exactly—I set the bloody kitchen on fire!"

"And it can easily be fixed. It's not the first time someone has set this kitchen on fire."

"Are you saying you've almost burnt down the house before? Because I don't believe that."

"I'm saying—"

"Perhaps I should come back," a voice says. Snape and I both look over to where Narcissa now stands. "Has she been your house-elf, Snape?"

"She made the deal."

Narcissa doesn't look entirely convinced. "I brought Charlotte what she'll need this year at Hogwarts. It's by the steps."

"How much do I owe you?" Like I could afford it anyway—this'll probably be just another thing to hold over me. "When did you even go to Diagon Alley?"

"I went with Draco yesterday. And you owe us nothing."

"Generous of you," I comment.

"The Lestranges have a fortune locked away in Gringotts," she says.

A sudden surge of sentimentality courses through me. My mother paid for everything I will need at Hogwarts this year.

"Well, I'll leave you to your . . . argument." Narcissa Disapparates.

Snape looks back at me, then glances at the ruined dinner. "You can have the rest of today off." He waves his wand and summons food as he used to.