CHAPTER 7

I close the door to my borrowed bedroom and lock it. My rucksack lies on the floor next to the bed, and with a wave of my wand, it flies to my bed and opens. Clothes begin filling it, preparing for my departure from Spinner's End. Staying here right now is not an option because I might break our deal and attempt to kill him again.

There's a knock at the door, but I ignore it, choosing instead to rush to my bag and sling it onto my shoulder. "Rodgers, open the door."

"Can't right now, Professor, so sorry."

As if he can sense that my outrageous plan is already in motion, Snape throws the door open. Both of us watch each other, motionlessly, neither of us even attempting to move. Finally, some moments later, he says, "What's in that bag?"

"Clothes," I answer honestly. "Enough for a few days."

"You—"

But I Apparate and miss what he was trying to say. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stands just down the street, but my feet won't carry me that way no matter how badly my heart tells me to go there. There's much in my life Fred cannot know about because it would put Snape in danger and in turn also put me in danger. Almost more importantly, it'd probably put Fred in danger too. Besides, lying to him even more right now nauseates me, so with a sigh, I Disapparate.

My best option is to speak with someone who has no connection to the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters, which is how I find myself standing in front of 3 Grimmauld Place, fighting every instinct in me to look over at Sirius's vacant home.

I walk up to the door and knock quietly. It only takes a minute for it to open just a crack, enough to reveal a disheveled older woman with her white hair pulled back. "Can I help you?"

"I . . . think so. I'm looking for Zoe Accrington. She said she lives here?"

"Yes, yes. What's your name?"

"Charlotte Rodgers."

"Wait here." Then she closes the door.

I wait there for a few minutes until the door opens again. Zoe stands there, beaming at me. "I thought I wouldn't see you again!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I haven't been writing, it's just—"

"No, no, don't worry. An owl wouldn't be very inconspicuous, now would it?" She steps aside. "Come in. I'm currently renting the upstairs bedroom." Although it's on the same street as Sirius's house and actually just a few houses down, this place is smaller. Very similar in design, but 12 Grimmauld Place must have had charms on it to increase its size. "Thanks, Mrs. Grenovich!" she calls to the kitchen as we pass it.

"Of course, dear."

"I just sold this place to Mrs. Grenovich and her grandson with the condition that I can rent the upstairs bedroom for the next couple of weeks until I can get everything sorted to move to Hogsmeade. I've worked it out faster than I thought I would, but I don't want to leave just yet." She waves her wand at her bedroom door before we enter. The place is covered in boxes from floor to ceiling, a lone mattress in the corner. "As you can see, most of the furniture will be left behind. I sold it with the house. Honestly, I think Mrs. Grenovich and her grandson are on the run from someone, but who am I to ask them?"

"You wanted to get rid of everything?"

She shrugs. "I wanted to start new. Living here with the ghosts of my parents is . . . difficult. Especially now that my granny isn't around anymore."

I swallow. That would certainly be hard to live with. "So, you're moving to Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, I found a small flat I'll be living in until I can save up enough to buy an inn of my own or convince Madam Rosmerta to expand hers. I'll be working at the Three Broomsticks. Did you know that Dumbledore has a brother? Because I didn't until a week ago when I almost got a job at the Hog's Head. His name's Aberforth."

I place my bag down on the floor, regretting being here, leaving Spinner's End, but even that regret does not convince me return. In order to uphold my end of the deal with Snape, my promise not to try to kill him again, I need to be away from him for a while. He caused this, not me.

"All right, Charlotte, spill it. What's going on?"

"That obvious?" She sits down on the edge of her mattress and motions for me to take a seat next to her. I oblige and lower myself to the floor. "I just had to get away from them for a bit."

"Your family?"

"The Grenoviches magical?"

She shakes her head but waves her wand at the door anyways.

"I've been lying to you, and I need to rectify that. I feel that we are kindred spirits, and I feel like I can trust you. And it helps that you are in no way affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix, which the group against You-Know-Who and his minions, or the Death Eaters," I say. "Some of this . . . some of this I haven't even been able to tell Fred, so please keep it all to yourself."

"The Gryffindor doesn't know?"

"No." She nods understandingly. "My parents didn't really abandon me—I mean, they did, but not in the way I implied." I hurry through a quick explanation of how I discovered that my parents are Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"That explains you and Malfoy."

"Yeah, but that—that isn't what I've been unable to tell Fred."

"So, he knows who you really are then?"

"Yeah."

"What couldn't you tell him then?"

I take a deep breath. "IwaschosenbyVoldemorttobearhischild."

She is silent for a moment before a soft, "What?"

"I was chosen—"

"No, I heard you. I just . . . why you? Why did he choose you to torment that way?"

"Because I am the pureblooded daughter of his greatest soldiers and supporters—the Lestranges. And it was a punishment for my mother because she loved me almost as much as she loved him."

"And you can't get out of it?"

I shake my head, and she frowns. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I can't imagine. Is there anything anyone can do?"

"Potter can kill the Dark Lord."

She barks out a surprised laugh. "That'll be the day." Her laughter dies immediately, replaced by pity in her eyes. "So . . . if your parents are the Lestranges, where've you been staying?"

Should I tell her the truth? "I was supposed to be staying with the Malfoys, Bellatrix, and Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, but I convinced Voldemort that it would be beneficial for me to go live with someone else so I could learn how to duel—he had said something about wanting me to learn a more proficient way to duel—and I convinced him only one of his Death Eaters could be trusted to do that."

"And who is that?"

I swallow. "Well—he's also a part of the Order of the Phoenix though he denies it, but I don't know which side of the war he's more loyal to, and I don't think anyone knows, really. It's Professor Snape."

Her eyes widen. "You've been staying with Snape?"

"No one else knows that either. He's the one I had to get away from. He's been teaching me nonverbal spells . . . and he said some things to me about my past, and I snapped. I tried killing him. We got into a fight, and I fired the Killing Curse at him." Her mouth opens a little. "I had to get away from him. At least for a few hours."

"And the bag?"

"I thought about going to Fred's and staying, but I can't tell him the truth about everything because Snape's a double agent for one side of this war and I don't know which side he's on. And if something happens to Snape because of me, I won't last long. And I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Her eyes dart away from me, and she whispers, "I know I don't have much here right now, but you're welcome to stay if you want."

I sigh with relief, not realizing how nervous I had been about going back to Spinner's End. (I can't bring myself to go to Andromeda and Ted because they don't need more reasons to worry about me than they already have. Besides, how could I explain to them that I escaped from the manor and the Death Eaters there? No one would believe it.) "I really appreciate it," I breathe.

She smiles. "Of course, you'll have to help me take some of the boxes to Hogsmeade though. Can you Apparate?"

"Yes."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but doesn't question it. "Excellent."

I spend three nights at 3 Grimmauld Place with Zoe, helping her pack up the rest of her belongings ("I'm not charging you to stay here, so you'd better help out, Madam Lestrange—all right, all right, I'll never call you that again!"), but on the morning of my fourth day here, I know that it's been long enough that if I don't return soon, Voldemort might found out about my departure. And if he finds out, he'll no doubt force me to stay in the Malfoy cellar, and I will die before being trapped there again.

I lift my rucksack onto my shoulder. "I really can't thank you enough."

"No need to thank me, Marcus."

I smile at her. "I feel like your nicknames are—"

"Did you expect me never to act on the fact that you were named for Marcus Aurelius?" She walks with me to the front door.

I roll my eyes, almost regretting ever sharing that with her. "Anyways, I don't know what I would have done had I been trapped with Snape these past few days. So, thank you, again."

"'Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears.' Don't let Snape get to you, Charlotte. Whatever he says, you can ignore it. You don't want to kill him and end up in Azkaban."

"I swear, Zoe, if that is another of his quotes—when did you even have time to look these up? I've been with you constantly since I told you about the Aurelia thing."

She laughs. "I didn't have to look it up. I read his Meditations nearly five times in the month following my parents' deaths. Now I read it whenever I'm feeling . . . particularly nostalgic."

This surprises me but also makes my chest feel warm. "What're the odds?" I quickly wrap my arms around her, this one person who is not connected to either of the opposing sides of this war, who knows the full truth about me, who invited me into her home so I could get away from Severus Snape. Then I pull away and say, "Send me an owl when you get everything moved to Hogsmeade."

"I will."

She closes the door behind me, and I Disapparate. Though I could have technically Disapparated from Zoe's room, doing so ran the risk of Mrs. Grenovich questioning why she didn't see me leave.

Rather than going back to Spinner's End just yet, I choose to go to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. I'm walking around the shop, simply glad to once again be around the jokes created by Fred and George. "Charlotte?" I look over and see George handing something to a customer before leaving him and approaching me. "We didn't expect to see you today."

"I just had to get away, you know?"

He looks at me suspiciously, his eyes drifting to the bag I'm holding. "And just how long have you been away?"

"Charlotte!" Fred's voice interrupts me before I even have a chance to answer George. He's on the second floor, smiling down at me. Then he rushes towards the steps to meet me and George.

I throw my arms around him. "It's so good to see you!"

His face becomes rather serious. "Where've you been?" I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. "Malfoy's been here five times in the past three days to see if you were here."

"Draco came here?"

"Yeah, said you just took off and he hasn't been able to find you since."

I smile. "I had to get away from him. He was pissing me off. So I went to Zoe Accrington's place. They wouldn't suspect me there. Draco obviously suspected that I'd come here."

Fred and George exchange a short laugh. "Next time," George says, "you should come here. We'd love to hear all about your fights with Malfoy, and we won't tell anyone if you're here. We can hide you up in the flat."

And I have no doubt that they're telling the truth.

"If you're not hiding away from the Malfoys tomorrow," Fred says suddenly, "you should come with us to the Burrow and meet Bill and his fiancée."

"I—"

"Charlotte!" a voice growls. The twins and I turn toward the irritated voice to see none other than Draco Malfoy storming at us, a look of fury on his face that I have never before seen on him. "Charlotte Rodgers."

"Draco Malfoy," I reply coldly.

He exhales slowly, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenching. Then he points an accusing finger in my face. "You're coming with me. And there will be no arguments."

"And you expect to just force her to walk out of her against her will, do you?" Fred asks.

"She has no choice in the matter."

"Then you'll have to take on the three of us," George says.

Draco sneers. "No, I won't, but if Charlotte refuses to come with me, I'm afraid dearest Bellatrix has been given permission to Cruciate the Weasley family until she does." I huff at him, knowing there is no use in arguing. Especially not that my mother has free reign to—she knows I'm with a blood traitor. I try to breathe evenly but soon realize that it's impossible. Draco seizes the opportunity to torment me more. "That's right, Rodgers. Now come with me, or I shall have to inform her she's free to come back here whenever she wants."

"Fine."

I start to walk with Draco, but Fred grabs my arm. "Charlotte, don't do this, they'll punish you for leaving, won't they?"

"I'll be fine. They can't do too much to me because Voldemort wants me alive and well." Maybe. I don't really know, but if he needs me to have his baby, he needs me alive at least. "Don't worry about me. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I'll try to make it to the Burrow tomorrow." If the Burrow is even still standing. If Bellatrix knows about me and Fred, then Voldemort will soon learn as well. The Weasleys are in grave danger. Because of me. But maybe . . . maybe if I go back to Voldemort and beg for mercy and swear to serve him willingly and loyally as long as he spares them . . . I don't know if it would even work, but it's the only chance I've got right now.

Fred leans forward and swiftly kisses me, but Draco grabs my arm to drag me along with him, successfully yanking Fred and me apart. "Stop wasting time." I walk with a silent scowl as he escorts me out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and down an alley, constantly glancing over his shoulder. It's not until we're completely alone that the tension seems to drain from his face. Without a word, he grabs my arm, and we Disapparate.

"Since when can you—" My question dies immediately in my throat when I take in my surroundings. We're at Spinner's End.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snarls.

"Where's Snape?"

"Professor Snape," he corrects me. "It is Professor Snape to you, Rodgers."

"Bloody hell. How'd you get Draco's hair?"

Snape's skin begins to boil before my eyes. His hair turns black and grows, his nose elongates, his skin becomes sallow once more. And he's Severus Snape again. "Had the Dark Lord—or your mother, for that matter—learned that you ran off, do you realize how much danger you would be in? Do you realize that you would be locked up in Malfoy Manor, or worse?"

"You sound like you actually care," I scoff.

"If you escaped under my watch, what do you think would happen to me?" He waves his wand. "You won't be leaving Spinner's End without my permission ever again."

I turn around and start towards the stairs. Snape doesn't stop me. I close the door to my borrowed bedroom and lock it, even though doing so hardly matters because he could just magic his way in here. I crawl onto my bed and begin practicing the Water-Making Spell, trying to pretend his anger doesn't bother me.

The next afternoon is when I finally force myself to leave the bedroom. Snape is in his armchair in the sitting room, as always, reading today's copy (or at least I believe it is today's copy) of the Daily Prophet. I walk over to the edge of the sofa closest to him and take a seat. He slowly lowers the paper, folds it, and sets it on the rickety table. Only after he has resumed his normal position do I say, "I am prepared to put behind us everything that happened a few days ago. I just have one request, sir."

He waits patiently, so I continue, "Please lift the Anti-Disapparation Jinx so that I may leave and go to the Burrow with Fred to meet Bill Weasley and his fiancée."

"And why would I reward you for your selfish actions that endangered us both?"

"Because I swear to you on my life"—he raises an eyebrow—"fine, I swear to you on Mrs. Stoico's grave that I will be on my best behavior for the rest of the holiday. I will do everything that you command without a single complaint. I will be at your beck and call until the fall term of Hogwarts begins. I will be . . ." I huff at the indignity of it all. "I will be your replacement Wormtail. I'll do whatever you need me to do. And for the rest of the holiday, no matter what you say or do, I will not attempt to kill you again."

His cruel smile makes me regret pledging this to him, but if I want to go to the Burrow, this seems like the only way without further damaging my rapport with him. "Are you sure you want to make this bargain with me?" he says softly.

"If it allows me to go to the Burrow with Fred, yes."

He watches me carefully. "And you think one day with Mr. Weasley is worth a holiday of servitude, do you?"

"Yes," I answer immediately, offering him my hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Snape glances at my hand but does not shake it. "Be back around eight 'o' clock."

"You're giving me a curfew?"

He doesn't budge.

"All right, I'll be back around eight tonight."

Snape waves his wand, and I waste no time Disapparating. I walk up to the second floor of the joke shop where Fred reorganizes some products and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. I rest my head against his back. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

"Well, it's good to see you, too, Charlotte, but—"

"Well, this is awkward."

I look over and see Fred grinning from ear to ear at me and who I now realize to be George. I quickly release him. "I . . . I'm—"

"Haven't we told you, Fred?" George puts his arm around me. "Charlotte and I are in love."

My face is warm, and I can only imagine how red it must be, probably as red as their hair. "Merlin . . . Fred, I only saw him from behind."

"So, it wasn't good to see me after the day you've had?" George whispers sadly.

"It was good to see you, George, just not as good as it is to see Fred." I hold my hand out to Fred, and he accepts it, pulling me into his arms and away from his brother.

"If you wanna end things between us, Charlotte, then fine, but don't come crying back to me when you realize I'm the better twin!"

While waiting for our chance to leave, Fred fills me in on what I have missed recently. Harry and Hermione are now at the Burrow and will be there for the rest of the holiday. This makes me incredibly envious. They get to live at the Burrow with the Weasleys, the good food, and their friends, while I get stuck with Snape, mediocre meals that he summons, and no chance to visit whomever I want whenever I want because of my fight with Snape and the deal I had to make with him to get out of Spinner's End long enough to meet Fred's brother.

While, yes, this is mostly my fault, Snape had been trying to provoke me by throwing Mrs. Stoico's death in my face. How can I take the blame for reacting the way he wanted me to react? And how does he even know some of those details? He hasn't seen those memories, and I certainly haven't told him myself.

I put Snape out of my mind as we prepare to make our way to the Burrow.

Bill Weasley is a Curse-Breaker, the twins inform me, and his fiancée, Fleur Delacour, was in the Triwizard Tournament with Harry two years ago.

Honestly, I'm more nervous about seeing Harry again than meeting Bill and Fleur. My mother, the sadistic Death Eater who tortured someone to insanity, killed Harry's godfather, the man who spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, the man who only had a few good years after escaping that terrible prison before his life was cut short by his own cousin. Harry will have to hate me on principle now that he's had time to really let the injustice of it all settle. I look like Bellatrix, and there is more of Bellatrix in me than I want to admit—surely others can see just as easily as I do. And since Bellatrix still wanders this earth alive, Harry unable to kill her and avenge Sirius, the Boy Who Lived will have no other choice than to hate me, at least until Bellatrix is dead. Right?

I don't know, but I'm horrified to face it.

"You'll be all right?" George asks the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes employee, Verity, a girl with short blonde hair who appears to be roughly the age of Fred and George.

"Yeah, I've got it," she assures them.

George nods at her. "Well, if you're sure, then we're leaving."

"Have fun."

The Weasley twins and I Apparate to the Burrow. We're walking toward the door when Fred says, "Oh, word of warning, Fleur's a bit different. Try not to egg on Mum, Ginny, or Hermione too much. Mum hopes to be able to split them up before their marriage next summer. Ginny and Hermione call Fleur 'Phlegm.' Of course, Bill doesn't know that, so don't let that slip at all." I imagine it was Ginny that came up with the nickname, considering she came up with the name for Dumbledore's Army.

From this angle, as we reach the door of the Burrow, I can see four people high in the air behind the house. Ron and Ginny are easy to see, thanks to their beaming red hair. It seems they're playing Quidditch. "We expect to see you playing Quidditch with us too, Charlotte," George says.

Fred smiles at me. "Ginny said you'd never flown on a broom until she and Ron had you referee. We can help."

Gratitude brings a smile to my face. They so readily accept me despite my awful origins. Which is why telling Fred about my duty to Voldemort is something I will continue to put off until there is absolutely no other choice. Losing his acceptance of me would kill me.