Chapter 37: Steps
With a pop Albus Dumbledore apparated outside the gates to the Hogwarts grounds.
He had already been here earlier, just a couple of hours ago. Was that before Severus had arrived? Had they inadvertently crossed paths without him realizing? Had Severus hidden from him? The gate gave way easily and he walked towards the castle, for the first time feeling his age with every step.
Last night had forced him to see himself quite literally through someone else's eyes and what he had seen had scared him. That was not who he presented to the outside world, was it? It surely was not how he saw himself. True, he was unusually cunning for a Gryffindor, he could be solitary in his decision making, had a tendency for arrogance and he easily manipulated those around him – but it was all for the greater good! The man he had seen in Severus' memories was cool and calculating, bordering on cold and detached from other people's suffering. That couldn't be him. It just couldn't.
Resolutely he pushed at the door to the entrance hall, only to have it ripped out of his grip by a very determined Severus Snape. Both men froze mid-movement and stared at each other. The Potions Master was the first to look away. Dumbledore winced, understanding instinctively why eye contact felt too intrusive for the younger man.
"Severus, my boy, I …"
"We'll have to talk later. I have to leave", Snape interrupted briskly, pushing past the headmaster. He wore a dark winter cloak, leather gloves and a satchel of dark brown leather. The contents clinked as he brushed by.
"No, please. Severus, let me …"
"Later, headmaster. Now is not the time."
Without glancing back Snape walked with long strides towards the castle gates and disappeared out of sight.
He couldn't go home. He simply couldn't. Even though he knew that's where he should be headed, towards his wife and his son. But he was scared, so bloody scared. The Dementors, while they still reigned over Azkaban, had made him re-live every single horror, every single tragedy his life had to offer. So many mistakes, so many misunderstandings, so many miscalculations. How was he ever going to make up for that? People had died because of him, because of his careless and misguided decisions! His own daughter!
Lucius Malfoy steadied himself against the nearest wall and threw up violently. Bile was all that rose up, his painfully empty stomach clenching on nothing but self-loathing and despair.
Coward, he scolded himself. Get your family out! They deserve better than this, better than you!
Oh, but the fear, it nearly paralyzed him. Was Narcissa even still alive? Surely the Dark Lord had questioned her after he himself hadn't returned to Malfoy Manor. Nobody would believe that he fled from Azkaban with the others and then got captured again or that he had been fatally wounded and lay dead in some street or field. Lucius had felt his Dark Mark burn many times since that night the walls of the wizarding prison had crumbled, and the pain had been nearly unbearable.
Merlin, what if Draco had been forced to take the Mark? What if he was expected to replace his father?
As if on cue pain shot through him, radiating out from the cursed tattoo on his left arm. Lucius leaned back against the cold stone wall behind him, his head thrown back, and sobbed through clenched teeth. It would get worse, if he didn't answer the call, that much he knew by now. So much worse. How did Severus stand it, sometimes unable to answer, surrounded by students, colleagues, watched by Dumbledore? He had asked himself that before, but never did the answer seem more pressing than right now. Selfish bastard, he scolded himself again. This is what you deserve.
The pain soared higher, like a bird on steady wings, and just before he lost consciousness, he wrapped his mind around one thought: Severus.
His feet knew the way from the apparition point to the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor by muscle memory. Twenty-nine steps to the gates and their invisible barrier that could only be crossed by those with Malfoy blood – or those who wore the Dark Mark. Seventy-six steps more along the pathway lined with hedges and rose-bushes, barren and dreary in the winter, even while decorated with the innocence of freshly fallen snow.
His satchel was stashed in a hollow tree trunk near the apparition point. His still slightly jumbled mind hadn't been able to make up an excuse why he should have needed it for this visit. Christmas presents were not a concept the Dark Lord was able to relate to and besides that – Christmas was long past.
He didn't bother knocking. None of the Death Eaters cared much for such courtesy, wandering in and out of this place like they belonged here, like they owned it. Another thing that made him sick to his stomach.
A house elf appeared out of nowhere to take his coat, but Severus waved him off.
"No need. I won't stay long."
He looked around with seeming condescension while taking off his gloves and stuffing them in his pocket.
"Is the Dark Lord here? I need to speak to him."
The house elf bowed down low, his long nose almost touching the floor, and wrung his hands in desperation.
"Oh, Master, forgive poor Ribbsy, but Ribbsy does not know where the Dark Lord has gone! He left, yes, with his… friends, all in a hurry, robes swirling, whispers hissing—dark things, terrible things… but he did not say where! Ribbsy swears it, oh yes, Ribbsy swears! Only the Lady remains now, and the young master. Both are in the library. Ribbsy will get them for Master. Ribbsy will hurry."
Before Severus could stop the elf, he had disappeared. Only a few seconds later Narcissa came running from the library. Draco, his face pale and pointy, stood rooted to the ground in the doorframe. He eyed his teacher suspiciously.
"Severus!" She flung her arms around him, and he embraced her for a moment, before gently holding her at arm's length.
"Did you hear from him? Has he contacted you?"
"No, nothing", Narcissa sobbed. "I am going mad with worry. I was hoping he had contacted you. This is not like him. He wouldn't just disappear on us. He wouldn't."
Her eyes were teary, but she looked determined.
"Pack what you need. We are leaving", Snape told her.
"We are?" sounded Draco's voice from the door. It was hard to say if suspicion, fear, disbelief or hope swung in his voice. He didn't sound like himself, Severus decided. He sounded like someone who no longer knew what it meant to feel safe.
"Yes, we are. Right now", he declared in his best teacher voice. "And once you are safe, I will find your father. I promise."
He looked at Narcissa and repeated, more quietly, more sincerely, like an oath. "I promise."
Five minutes later they were on their way to the apparition point. As it turned out, the only things both Malfoys deemed absolutely necessary were their wands and a thick coat, which made for a swift departure. All the house elves had been placed under strict orders not to reveal the time or the circumstances under which the last rightful inhabitants of the house had left and in whose company. Draco had brought a couple of socks from his bedroom, offering freedom to those that wanted it. A highly risky move in Severus' opinion and to his great relief none of the elves had taken the young man up on the offer.
"We will take care of the house, for when the Mistress and the Masters return, Ribbsy promises", the elf had told them sincerely. Then the doors had closed behind them and they had walked away. Narcissa's legs were shorter than Severus'. Eighty-one steps until the gates and the invisible barrier that let them through without a glitch, thirty-three until the apparition point.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?", Narcissa whispered nervously as they stood outside a house in a quiet street, snow glittering in the sun. Seagulls called in the distance and the air smelled of the nearby sea. Cornborough Road, the street sign read.
"No", Severus answered honestly. "But it's the only one I have. So we'll just have to hope for the best."
He stepped forward and rang the bell. Minutes later a woman in blue jeans and a white gansey opened. Two chopsticks held her blond her in a loose bun on her head and her blue eyes sparkled.
"Severus? What a nice surprise! I haven't seen you in …"
"I need your help", he interrupted her. "I need a safe house."
"A safe house?" the woman asked, bewildered. "But who would …"
Severus stepped aside, revealing the two behind him, mother and son, standing close to each other, their expressions guarded. The woman in the gansey smiled, tears springing to her eyes.
"Cissy", she whispered, opening the door and her arms wide. Severus heaved a sigh of relief.