Chapter 39

It was like a nightmare. From the moment they apparated to Snape, tortured moaning and the foul smell of vomit and worse filled the chilled night air. Snape had a body levitating in front of himself, which was the source of the smell and the cries.

"Fabian!"

With dawning horror, Hermione realized the now panicked Gideon was right. "Oh, God…" Fabian was shaking and twisting against the agony that must have been wracking his body. "How…"

"What happened?"

Gideon had fallen to his knees beside his brother, hands hovering over him as if afraid to touch him. "Where is his charm? He had his charm? Did it fail?"

Ambrosi looked him over, grim resignation on his face. "We need to get him back to the tent. I will see what can be done."

By the tone of his voice, Hermione didn't think he would be able to do anything at all. Needing an answer before they left, Hermione took a step towards where Severus and George were arguing. "Severus, what happened?"

Practically growling, Severus turned from George and James Potter, whom she could now see slumped but seemingly unharmed against a tree behind them. "I don't know! I was trying to flee hell when I ran into this moronic arsehole," he gestured to James. "It seems as if they didn't get out in time and, from the kindness of his heart he—which one of them is that?"

"Fabian." Her voice hurt coming out through a tightening throat.

Severus sighed. "Damn. Well, Fabian must have given Potter his charm just before the damned thing went off. Now he's in shock‐" he waved angrily at James again, "and he's as good as dead." His voice had faltered slightly as he looked back at Fabian.

It felt like she had been punched in the gut. She wanted to ask more questions but Ambrosi was calling her back. "George?"

He pulled her into himself for a quick embrace. "I'll stay here with them for now, Love. Send me a patronus if you need me."

Nodding, she tried to smile reassuringly but it felt like a grimace, and turned back to the others.

"Are you ready, Mrs Prewett? He can be apparated but we need to do it together. On three?"

Stammering, "Yes… on… on three." Taking hold of Fabien's arm, she waited for his count and they apparated away.

Reappearing in the middle of their tent, Ambrosi levitated Fabian to one of the camp beds. "No one touch him again. Here." He waved his wand over both of their hands, muttering something that sounded like Russian. "Did you touch him with anything but your hands?" When they replied in the negative, he turned back to Fabian.

"Q'letaq'le" It was whispered harshly but with a sorrowful affection that scared her. He'd said it in anger once when he and Fabian had had a disagreement about the outcome of an international Quidditch match. She didn't know what it meant, but his haunted tone told her he didn't have any hope.

He cast the same spell he'd used on their hands over Fabians body before banishing his clothing and casting one of his wards around him. "You can touch him now, but take care of his skin. It will be feeling like burns."

Averting her eyes, Hermione snatched a sheet from one of the beds and gently laid it across Fabian. "Is there anything we can do for him, Ambrosi?"

He shrugged, holding his hand out for a potion he'd summoned. "We make him as comfortable as possible." Snatching the potion out of the air, he handed it to Gideon who knelt beside the camp bed, holding his brother's trembling hand. "Here, give him this."

Holding back tears, Gideon struggled to get the potion opened. The more he struggled, the more upset he grew, Fabian's agonizing groaning only making his focus worse. "Damn it…"

Hermione rushed to his side, taking the potion from his hands and opening it. "Here, I'll do it, Gid. Just hold his hand, let him know you're here."

As she gently slid her hand behind his head to help him take the potion, his hair fell out onto the pillow where she touched it. Gasping, she looked up at Ambrosi, who only closed his eyes and bent his head. Tears burned her eyes but she went back to what she was doing.

"Please…" Fabian's eyes searched for her, unfocused and roving, and his voice was hardly audible. "Please… Hermi…nee, kill me."

A sob choked out of her, the tears pouring down her face. "Oh Fabian… I'm so sorry." He fought the potion at first but eventually she got it down his throat.

Stepping back, she looked at Gideon. The heartbroken, incredulous look on his face reminded her suddenly of George. Not again. "Did he… did he ask you what I think he asked you?"

"Please, Gid." Fabian's bare, angry red chest heaved with the labor of breathing. "I can't feel… anything. But that potion will wear off. I don't think… we shouldn't have done this…" He coughed weakly. "There were… so many people. More than we thought."

"You can't ask me this. We can do something, we can…"

Ambrosi cleared his throat but didn't look up from the floor. "We can keep him comfortable. That potion will last until he expires. Perhaps two, three days." He shook his head once. "I have seen this many times. It would be cruel to force him to linger any longer than that, Gideon."

"No. No." Gideon glared furiously around at all of them. "There has to be something we can do. We are wizards! We can fix this!"

Completely out of her depth, Hermione held a hand over her mouth and cried quietly while Ambrosi tried to explain.

"Magic does no fix everything, my friend. I am so sorry."

"Gid…" Fabian tugged on his brother's hand. "Please."

In the face of Ambrosi's diagnosis and his brother's plea, Gid bowed his head and wept, his face pressed against Fabian's hand.

The whole thing made her ache for them, for Gideon, for George all over again. It wasn't fair. Everything had gone so wrong.

Gently touching her shoulder, Ambrosi caught her eye and nodded for the exit. Casting the second set of broken magical twins she'd loved a final sorrowful look, she followed him outside.

They stood a few yards away, quietly staring out into the dark forest. Ambrosi lit a cigarette. Hermione wrinkled her nose but didn't say anything.

"They need some privacy. He need to say goodbye while he is still aware." The wizard looked as sad as she felt, as if he was reliving his own past pain. Likely, he was. "I go back to the manor. We need to clean up there right away." He looked back over his shoulder at the tent briefly before dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. "If he wants to end it sooner, I can do that for him."

"Ok." Before he could turn on the spot, she called after him. "Send George back as soon as you can, please."

Nodding solemnly, he was gone.

GH

George couldn't look at his uncle, levitating and groaning in the dark. His brain couldn't seem to register what it meant. He heard Gideon's agonized cry and felt it too deeply to go near. Not yet. Not again.

Instead, he stumbled past his uncle's tragic tableau to shake Snape. "What in the bloody hell happened?"

Snape, who by the look and smell of him, had just finished being sick himself, stammered a response. "I'm not sure. I didn't see…"

"What do you mean, you're not sure?"

"I mean," he threw George's hands from his person, suddenly furious and snarling back. "I didn't see. I'm sorry about your uncle, but we have bigger problems just now, Prewett."

Aghast, George pushed back, shoving the younger version of the once and future intimidating man. "What the fuck? How can you say that?"

He glared venom and pointed back at the manor but was interrupted before he could answer by a frantic Hermione.

"Severus, what happened?"

Practically growling, Snape turned to her. "I don't know! I was trying to flee hell when I ran into this moronic arsehole." He gestured to James. "It seems as if they didn't get out in time and, from the kindness of his heart he—which one of them is that?"

"Fabian." Her voice sounded small and broken, her eyes shining in the dark.

"Damn." Snape had almost seemed to like Fabian. At least he wasn't a complete arsehole. "Well, Fabian must have given Potter his charm just before the damn thing went off. Now he's in shock‐" he waved angrily at James again, "and he's as good as dead." His voice faltered slightly as he looked back at Fabian.

George felt sick. One uncle was going to die and the other would be left a broken husk and fuck but George could not think about that right now.

"George?"

Taking her extended hand, he pulled her against himself tightly, kissing the top of her head. He did not want to let her go, but he had to. They had too many things to do just then to break down. "I'll stay here with them for now, Love. Send me a patronus if you need me."

Nodding, she tried to smile reassuringly but it looked more like a grimace before turning to go.

Running a hand through his hair and trying desperately to refocus, he reached for Snape. "Hey. What did you mean? What is our bigger problem?"

"This," again he pointed at the manor, "was not the gathering of marked Death Eaters we had planned. It was a fucking massive party for everyone that supported the Dark Lord. At least a hundred people are in there—"

His voice broke off, unabashed horror blanketing his face before he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, pressing his fists to his eyes. "Fuck. Fuck this was a mistake. We are so fucked! We're all going to Azkaban and we bloody fucking deserve it."

Breathing hard, panic now competing with the despair already trying to overwhelm him, George tried to think what to do. "A hundred? Are you sure?"

Clearly also panicked, Snape nodded, clutching at his lank hair.

Shit. This wasn't what he was good at. He needed Hermione or… or Fabian for this. They would know what to do. Mind racing, he stared at the manor. Dim light poured from the massive windows around the ballroom, and if he strained, cries of the suffering could be heard from where he stood.

Fuck.

"There is an anti-apparition ward up. If anyone is coherent enough to try and leave, they won't be able to."

"They won't be." Snape dragged his hands back through his hair, his fingers clasping behind his neck. "Potter said they were right outside the doors and on the lawn. Fabian was unable to stand on his own when I found them. Inside… it's… it's so much worse than I could have imagined. No one in there will be going anywhere on their own ever again."

George took a slow breath through his nose and looked down at James Potter. He could do this. One thing at a time. Crouching in front of the dazed looking Marauder, he snapped his fingers a few times in front of his face to get his attention. "Potter. Hey, James." Potter focused on him. "Why were you here? Were you alone? Are there any other Order members in there?"

James shook his head slowly. "No… I was alone. Dumbledore said…"

"What?" George couldn't believe it. "You were alone? You walked into a massive Death Eater gathering at Malfoy Manor, alone? What on earth were you thinking? Surely even Albus wouldn't ask that of you!"

Blinking, James looked strangely sluggish and confused. "No, he didn't. He just asked me to follow you. I wasn't supposed to tell Sirius because…" He frowned with concentration before groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't remember. I had an argument with Sirius about it and I think we decided to back off. But then Dumbledore called me and when I left I knew I had to follow you again. I…" Tears suddenly filled his eyes. He looked across the lawn at the Manor before shaking his head again and squeezing his eyes shut. "I had to do it. I had to. I lied to Sirius, to Lily. You don't understand, Dumbledore said it was so important that I follow you. I didn't know what you were doing. I didn't ask Fabian to save me… What happened? What is going on?"

Something wasn't right. A lot wasn't right. George glanced back at Snape and motioned for him to join him. "Look into his mind. I know you can. I think Dumbledore did something to him."

Snape glared. "We don't have time for this. We need to deal with the mess in there!'

"I know." George strained for placating but wasn't sure he managed it. "I know. But we need Ambrosi for that and he isn't here right now. Potter was alone so there likely won't be any more Order showing up any time soon, and no one in there will be able to alert any authorities. For right now, we need to deal with this. Just-just do it, ok?"

He still looked angry, but he pushed George aside to crouch in front of Potter. "Legilimens."

George stood over them for several minutes while Snape worked, trying to block out the sounds coming from the manor and think about anything but his uncle. Or his brother.

"You were right." Snape's voice pulled George's attention back to the moment. "There is a compulsion charm. I could disable it, but it might be better to wait until someone from the Auror office can confirm it. That old bastard really has a hard on for you and your wife."

"A compulsion charm? So he was only here, in the manor, needing rescuing because Albus wanted to know what we were up to?"

"It would seem that way, yes."

A nearby tree exploded. Then another, and another. George felt a fury unlike any he had ever known before. Albus Dumbledore had tried to murder his entire family once, and now he was responsible for whatever happened to Fabian. Bombarda didn't feel like enough, but for the moment it was all he had. "Bombarda!" Three more trees felt his wrath before someone was grabbing him from behind, arms like steel wrapping around him, pulling him back.

"Stop this, George. Gachereba!" Ambrosi spun him around to face himself, gripping his shoulders hard. "What are you doing? We do not have time for this."

George growled, swore and threw a final bombarda blindly back into the trees. "I know! I bloody well know that. Fuck!" He knew Ambrosi was right but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to get his hands on Dumbledore. Pressing his palms against his eyes, he tried to push it from his mind and breathe. They had to deal with the Manor. It was his priority at that moment. It had to be. "Ok. Ok. I'm ok." Hoping he'd believe it if he said it enough, George raked his hands through his hair and nodded at Ambrosi.

"Good. Come. We need to clean up in there." Just like that, he turned on his heel and headed for the manor. Having no choice, George followed. "I can manage the radiation-cleansing spells on my own. That must be done before anything else. But first, we must see what our actions have wrought."

A/N Sorry about the cliffhanger... not really. Anyway, the Georgian swear Ambrosi drops means, according to several lists of Georgian swears, literally "the dickest of dicks." I was trying to find like, Fuck or Shit. All I found were hilarious and vulgar phrases. I had to use that one. How could I not? I hope it denotes their friendly affectionate relationship as I intended. When he is talking to George, he is just saying stop it. If by chance any of you are Georgian, I apologize if I got these wrong.