CHAPTER 4

For the past five minutes since I arrived at Hogwarts from Malfoy Manor, Severus has been letting me clutch tightly to him as we stand in his chambers. "Are you all right?" he asks quietly.

"I think so. He didn't hurt me this time outside of the magic itself. I—I didn't fight him or argue." I pull away so I can see his face. "I just wanted to get out of there. Narcissa gave me the potion, so the pain is completely masked. Do you have more for when this wears off?"

"Yes. You can have more in an hour or two."

"Thank you."

"Did something happen that made you want out of there more than normal?"

"I just wanted to be back here with you," I say quietly, drawing a slight grin from him. "That, and I saw Luna." He raises his eyebrows as I direct us to sit down on the foot of his bed and tell him about my short chat with Luna. His eyes soften when I show him the glasses. Was she a student he admired? One who could be bullied and never let it get to her? One who treated everyone with kindness regardless of how they treated her? How does he feel that such a kind, selfless student wound up being abducted and imprisoned while others like Pansy Parkinson still walks free? I pull his hand into my lap and do not ask those questions.

"At least she's not being tortured," he says lightly.

I nod. "Narcissa was nice to me."

He gives me a quizzical look. "Nice how?"

I offer a short explanation of her kindness, especially how she let me speak with Luna and how she told me she was worried about me, but conveniently leave out the part where she got in my face and tried to be intimidating and threatening (and actually succeeded in doing so). How had I not realized that she, like my mother, stands so much taller than I do?

His expression is one which I have never seen on his face and therefore do not know what it means. All I know is that I cannot ask him about it. He seems almost . . . grateful for some reason. Whatever he's thinking, he seems unlikely to share, so I change the subject. "Have you thought any more about how to get my father out of Azkaban?"

He nods. "Yes, and I'm still working on it." That's really all I can ask—it's more than I should ask. "I'll let you know when I've figured the whole thing out."

I bend down and kiss the back of his hand. "Thank you. Really. I don't think I say that enough to you."

He rubs my hand with his thumb. "You don't have to thank me."

A smile comes to my lips, and I turn his hand over in mine, running my fingers across it. "So how was your day, Severus?" I ask lightly.

He gins and humors me. "Tedious. Being the headmaster of Hogwarts is not nearly as interesting as Dumbledore once made it seem."

"I can't remember it ever seeming fun. From dealing with Umbridge to cursing his hand to trying to stop Draco from hurting students accidentally—it all sounded awful."

"You weren't even here to see the troll get loose in the dungeon, the basilisk try to kill students, a murderer loose in the castle, or the drama of having other schools here for the Triwizard Tournament."

"All of that sounds stressful. Being the headmaster sounds stressful. And no fun at all," I add with an exaggerated sigh.

"It is. Particularly when I have to pretend to be a normal headmaster by going to meals and acting as if the students actually offend me by not loving the other Death Eaters inside the castle. Keeping up a cold, calloused façade is quite taxing. The worst part is actually having to speak with the Carrows on a regular basis." I laugh at him but say nothing, instead just letting him continue. "Have you heard the two of them complain? They act as if teaching here is the worst thing in the world."

"As if you haven't spent almost two decades doing just that. I specifically remember your complaints when we were at Spinner's End."

"If anyone has the right to complain about these students, it's me, not them. I've done this for almost half my life. They've been doing it for six months."

"Oh, I absolutely agree. You should tell them that the next time they try to tell you how miserable their lives are."

"Don't tempt me, I just might."

"I would support you whole-heartedly."

An ease sets over us. Being alone in his office or his quarters is one of my favorite things. I can't imagine what my life would be like without him in it. He grins down at me, and a sense of joy latches onto my heart. Without another thought I lean toward him and press my lips against his. "Are you—"

"I'm not in pain," I say, pulling his lips back to mine. "I'm fine. I took the potion."

These moments of peace, these times when I can be almost completely happy, I live for them. When the hand that I was holding earlier comes to a rest on my hip, I slide my tongue along his lips and shift onto his lap.

I run my fingers through his hair, a smile coming to my face.

"What're you thinking about?" he asks me quietly.

"Your hair."

He grimaces. "What about it?"

"When we first met—back when you were removing me from my prison in Malfoy Manor—I hated it. I really like it now though. I just—I think I hated everything about you back then. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with you."

He laughs for a moment. "The feeling as mutual, believe me."

"Oh, I know." I bring his lips to mine again. "And your eyes used to terrify me, did I ever tell you that?"

He leans forward and places a warm kiss to my neck. "No."

"They were so intimidating and so cold." He begins unbuttoning my shirt, pressing his lips to every inch of skin as it's exposed. "I had nightmares about them. Found it nearly impossible to ever look into them."

He finishes with the buttons on my shirt and pushes it off my shoulders and onto the floor. "And now?" he murmurs, his fingers gliding up my back to unhook my bra.

"They make me feel safe. You make me feel safe."

He stops what he's doing and pulls away just far enough to look me in the eye. "I make you feel safe?"

I put my hands on either side of his face and look into those black eyes. "Of course you do. I've never felt as safe as when I'm in here—with you. I've never been as happy as I am when I'm with you. You bring me such comfort and joy."

He smiles at me, and I bend down to kiss him again. His arm tightens around me as he pulls me farther onto the bed and gently flips me onto my back.

Opening my eyes the next morning, bright light filtering in from the curtain half-covering his window, I see Severus sitting up, fully dressed and appearing ready for the day, in the bed beside me, using the light from window to read a piece of long parchment. Though I want to say something to him, to start a conversation or just say good morning, my eyes pull themselves back shut, and my voice fails me, which is surprising. It's unusual to be this tired; typically, waking up is not too much of an issue, yet I would rather die right now than try to begin my day.

Sometime later, the closing of a door awakens me, and I sit up to see Severus entering his quarters from his office. "Morning," I groan, wiping my eyes and sighing heavily, still unsure what is making me so groggy.

"It's almost noon."

I pause in the middle of scratching my eye. "It's—what—why did you let me sleep so late?"

"You weren't sleeping well last night. You were muttering in your sleep, tossing and turning. I put you under a Bewitched Sleep around three this morning so you could get some rest." I smile in thanks at him. Then he waves his wand, and some food appears on a tray on his bed beside me. "You missed breakfast."

I keep the blankets over my legs and pull the tray onto my lap. "Did you go to breakfast in the Great Hall?" He nods. "Scare anyone?" He ignores me and sits down on a newly Conjured armchair now beside the bed, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. Watching him attempt to relax at least a little bit brings me joy, but I keep this to myself and begin eating, deciding in this moment that I will not be leaving his quarters until after lunch—well, after I've eaten lunch, so closer to this evening. Being around anyone else currently sounds rather miserable. It's not that anything more horrible than usual happened—it's that life feels easier in here with him. Calmer. More tolerable.

"What are you staring at?" he asks, sounding bemused, not bothering to look up at me.

"Just watching you read." I take a bite of a crunchy piece of toast and grin close-lipped at him when he glances over at me.

"You didn't say last night—did you happen upon Bellatrix at the manor while you were there?"

"No, I don't even think she was there."

His brow furrows. "She was there. At least she claimed to be. She sent an owl asking about you."

"What, she wants updates on me? How kind and concerned she is."

"I told her you were fine, that you certainly didn't need her to check in on you. She seems to . . . miss you."

"Good. Let her."

He smiles. "I think she was really trying to figure out how close you are to snapping and storming Azkaban for your father. So I lied and told her that you've accepted what happened. When we go to rescue him, she'll be clueless, I assure you."

"'When'?" I ask, a hope burning in my chest at how definitive that phrase makes it sound. It's almost like I can breathe again for the first time in weeks. My lungs freely accept air without pain, a smile pulls at my cheeks. He looks at me for a short moment, grinning. "You've figured out how to free him?"

"I'm in communication with Rabastan—he doesn't know it's me, of course, he actually thinks I'm Gideon Collins. We've got an idea. In a couple of weeks, we should be able to—"

I don't hear the rest over the sound of me clambering off the bed and across the floor to the chair where he sits. I fling myself onto his lap and throw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I say, holding him tightly, burying my face into the crook of his neck. His arms slide around my waist and hold me closely. "Thank you." I press a kiss to his cheek, then rest my head on his shoulder, almost laughing with relief. "Thank you so much."

"Charlotte," he says gently.

"I know, I shouldn't get my hopes up too high because it' still—"

"It's not that. I need you to put some clothes on."

Laughter bursts out of me. "You didn't seem to mind just a few hours ago."

"Charlotte."

I peel away from him and return to the bed, covering myself back up with the sheets and pulling the tray of food back onto my lap so that I can continue eating. "So, what kind of plan are you coming up with to get him?"

He sighs. "A foolish one." When I don't immediately reply, he continues, "At some point I'll need you to leave Hogwarts and bring back some of Gideon Collins's hair. Can't risk Rabastan learning the truth about me just yet, can we?" I have so many questions, but honestly, they're not that important to me right now because all that matters is that we might be able to rescue my father. The details are of little consequence right now. "Then I will Polyjuice myself, and the two of us will go with Rabastan and break into Azkaban."

My hand pauses, bacon halfway between the tray and my mouth as I process what he just said. "I'm sorry, what?" He looks up at me. "You want—you want to break into Azkaban?"

"Yes. With the two of us summoning corporeal Patronuses, we should be able to get through and snatch your father and escape. Most of the dementors aren't there anymore. They left when the Dark Lord took over the Ministry."

"Even if they're not there, that's still incredibly dangerous."

"Indeed it is."

I place the bacon back on the plate and clear my throat, watching him closely. "I don't think you should go."

Severus folds the newspaper and sets it on his lap. "Excuse me?"

"I don't want you to go to Azkaban to retrieve my father. Rabastan and I can do it. You—you're too valuable to defeating the Dark Lord. Without you, Harry Potter will likely not stand a chance. You're the only one who can really help him. Dumbledore himself told me that you're important for this war."

He opens his mouth, then seems to register what I've said. "When did you speak to Dumbledore?"

"He left a note for me, but it doesn't matter right now."

"When did—"

"I found it late last summer after you convinced me you killed him because he asked. I didn't tell you because he asked me not to. He asked me to help you with whatever you need. I was already planning to do so." He watches me, his mouth in a tight line. "Before your pessimistic, self-loathing side takes over, I think it's important for me to say that everything I've done for you, everything between us, was my choice and my choice alone. Please believe me." He remains silent for a moment, then nods. I add lightly, "Dumbledore certainly would not have told me to start sleeping with you." This draws a smile to his lips, and I smile back at him. "Back to the task at hand though, I don't want you going to Azkaban with me."

"Charlotte, I will not send you there alone, especially not now. You've been there once before without me, and I won't let that happen again."

"Severus, you can't—"

"Either I go with you, or no one goes. And at this point, I doubt Rabastan will take that as an answer."

"Severus—"

"Do you want your father back?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then there is no other way. The only way to get him out before the Dark Lord perishes—and possibly ever at all considering his position as one of the Dark Lord's most vehement supporters in the last war and his role in what happened to the Longbottoms—is to go into Azkaban and get him out."

"I don't want you to risk yourself like that."

"He doesn't belong there. We can save him."

"And risk you in the process?" I ask, my voice hoarse, my throat closing up at the thought of him dying in Azkaban because of me.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but . . . Severus, I don't want to lose you."

With a flick of his wand, he sends the Daily Prophet over to the sofa and out of his bedroom. "Charlotte, we've been over this—you don't have to worry about me."

"You're asking me not to worry about you entering Azkaban. That's not possible."

Severus stands and walks over to me, then takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "What you're feeling now—that fear that something will happen to me in Azkaban—it's exactly why I won't let you go without me." My heart smiles with his words. "Last time you went in there, you almost didn't come back out. I won't let that happen again."

I reach over and take his hand. "How busy are you right now?"

He glances over at his chair and shrugs. "Not incredibly."

"So you can spare a little time?"

A smile comes to his lips, and my unwanted breakfast leftovers vanish. "Yes."

Severus brushes a clump of hair out of my face, then leans forward and captures my lips with his.

It's well into the evening before I leave Severus's office and make my way back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Despite my desperate desire to rescue my dad, the idea of losing Severus to get him out of Azkaban does not sit well with me. How can he possibly think that three of us—one of whom can't form a corporeal Patronus—can get my father out of that terrible prison? How can he believe there's even a chance of rescuing him? How can I possibly step foot back into there and not completely fall apart?

My hope for being alone to think more on this and really debate whether this is something I am prepared to do is cut short when I push open the door for the seventh-year girls' dormitory and find Daphne sitting on her bed, reading what appears to be a textbook.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey."

She watches me for a long moment, then closes her book and sets it aside. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

"What makes you—"

"Don't lie, Charlotte. Something's off about you. You can tell me."

Can I tell her? Maybe I can tell her some of it. Sighing, I motion my head toward my bed, and she immediately slides off her mattress to follow me. Once we've made ourselves comfortable, she at the foot of the bed with me across from her, our legs stretching toward one another, her leaning against something she conjured and me leaning against the headboard, I wave my wand around the four-poster bed to keep our conversation a secret from any possible prying eyes. "My father's in Azkaban. My fault."

"I'm sure it's not—"

"I told him the truth about who I am, and my mother found out. She told the Dark Lord, and he imprisoned my father because of it. That's clearly my fault."

"He had every right to know, Charlotte. I'm sure he wouldn't trade his newfound knowledge for his freedom. Was he excited when you told him?"

"Thrilled."

"Then I'm sure he's content with what has happened. Just knowing that you're alive must be keeping him . . . fine-ish."

"Fine? In Azkaban? Daphne, I almost lost my mind after just a—" I stop short, realizing what my mistake when her eyes grow wide and her face pale.

"No," she whispers.

"Forget I—"

She cuts me off with a loud noise, then crawls toward me, forcing me to move over so that she can sit next to me. "Charlotte, you're not serious." I shrug, and Daphne takes my hand in hers. "I'm so sorry. When did it happen?

"Over the summer. After . . . after he killed Zoe." I close my eyes and rest my head against her shoulder. "I almost killed myself in there, Daphne. How can I pretend that my father is fine?"

"Why would he lock you away?"

"To show me that he's in control. To prove to me that he can do whatever he wants. He locked me away and when I almost lost my mind, he . . . had my mother erase my memories. Replace them with false ones." My breath is ragged, my throat growing tight and sore, but I push on. "I thought I was . . . truly Aurelia Lestrange. I had memories—good ones—of my life with my mum." Tears burn the back of my eyes as I think about what I could have had. If Voldemort wasn't around. If Voldemort didn't own my mother. If Voldemort hadn't chosen me. If Voldemort, if Voldemort, if Voldemort.

"Charlotte, I—"

"Don't say it." I wipe away a tear from my cheek. "Anyway, part of me knew something was wrong and—well, a friend helped me retrieve my forgotten self." I pull my head off her shoulder and look her in the eye. "The point is, I know my dad's not fine, and I know it's my fault."

Daphne is silent for a moment, just trying to comfort me silently. Finally, she takes a breath and asks, "Is Azkaban really impenetrable? Didn't Barty Crouch or whatever get out a few years back?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't—it was a clever plan that we can't pull off because we don't have the power to get into Azkaban like Crouch's parents did."

She stares at me, sizing me up, a smirk on her face. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Of course I believe—"

"I mean, you don't really believe he's trapped there forever, do you? You have hope of him getting out?"

"Wouldn't you? How else am I supposed to live with myself?"

"You wanna get him out, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

Daphne straightens and tightens her hand on mine. "Tell me what's going on."

"I've been in contact with Rabastan," I say, only half-lying. Severus was the one in contact with my uncle, but Daphne doesn't need to know that. "He thinks—he thinks we might be able to break into Azkaban and break my father out. He's coming up with a plan. I don't . . . I don't know if I want to believe that it's possible."

"Wait. You're—you're gonna try going into Azkaban?"

"I don't know if—"

"You can't go in with a Death Eater, that's insane!"

"Daphne—"

"Can he even use the Patronus Charm? Charlotte, this is—"

"I can use the Patronus Charm. I can create a corporeal Patronus. And it won't be just the two of us. We have someone else going with us."

"Who?"

This is where I pull the brakes. Of course, I can't tell her that Severus is planning to go with us. It's bad enough that she knows he's my friend. "Someone I trust."

Her eyes tighten, but she sets her jaw and says, "You're taking me with you, Charlotte. You and your friend and your uncle. You're not—"

"Can you even produce a Patronus?"

"Yes. And you're not going in there alone."

"I won't be alone—"

"Shut up. I'm going with you when you go, or else you'll force me to turn to McGonagall. Do you think it'd be good for her to know your plan? She'll probably start keeping an annoyingly close eye on you."

McGonagall absolutely cannot know about this foolhardy plan of going into Azkaban to free a known Death Eater from its horrible clutches. Daphne knows this. I know this. She knows that I know this. I don't really have any obvious way to fight this right now, so I concede with, "I'll talk with my friend. Only with their permission are you allowed to help."