CHAPTER 30

Before I have a chance to react, or do anything really, after seeing the knife disappear with my friends, Voldemort arrives, his red eyes more impatient and furious than I have ever seen them—and I've seen them quite furious and impatient before . . . with me, but it's never been quite like this. Bellatrix must have called at a bad time. My eyes dart from Draco to Narcissa to Bellatrix and back. None of them appear comfortable either at the idea of a livid Voldemort arriving literally moments after the escape of the Golden Trio, after Harry Potter once again managed to escape by seconds.

I move to Apparate back to Bellatrix's room when Nagini hisses at me and slithers toward me. How can she see me? How does she know I'm here? Voldemort turns his attention to me, his jaw clenched as he waves his wand at me and removes the Disillusionment Charm from me and expels my wand from my hand. Bellatrix gasps out my name, but I can't take my eyes from Voldemort. "Charlotte," he says, his voice tight with shackled rage.

"My . . . my Lord," I try to say, but the Silencing Charm keeps me quiet. He waves his wand at me again and removes that charm as well, almost as if he had expected that I was using it. "My Lord."

His head turns back to my mother. "Why is she here, Bella? In this room?"

"My Lord," she tries, "I told her to stay—"

"And why does she have her wand? Did I not command you to keep it from her until she returns to Hogwarts?"

"My Lord, I was unsure if there would be danger, and she needed—"

"Enough." He turns to me again. "Charlotte. Tell me what happened. What you saw."

"My Lord, I didn't—"

"Crucio." I collapse to the floor, screeching, pleading for help. A short moment later the pain stops. "Do not lie to me."

I nod. "I . . . I came up here because—because I wanted to know what was happening. I—I wanted to know. And . . . Harry and his friends—they were here."

"And where are they now?" he breathes, his body shaking with fury.

"They . . . they escaped, my Lord."

Voldemort rounds suddenly on Bellatrix and casts the Cruciatus Curse. Though she screams in pain, I find it hard to turn away. Her screams sound so similar to Hermione's screams, and my heart hardens toward her. Does Bellatrix not deserve this? Does she not deserve to suffer the same way she makes others suffer?

He releases the curse. "Why did you call me here if they escaped, Bella?"

"I called you here before—before they escaped."

"How did they escape?"

"Dobby. Dobby the house-elf. He rescued them."

Voldemort turns to Narcissa. "The house-elf you lost? He returned to free Harry Potter and his friends?" Half a second after she nods, the Cruciatus Curse strikes her, and tears immediately spring into my eyes. Draco tries to step forward but stops when I throw my hand up in warning, and he closes his eyes and turns his head away from his mother who writhes on the floor begging for mercy. As soon as Voldemort releases her from the curse, all of them—Lucius, Bellatrix, and Draco—rush to her side, and resentment grows in my chest. None of them seemed half as upset a moment ago when he Cruciated me. Voldemort walks toward me and takes my chin gruffly in his hand, his eyes examining my face closely. "Go back to your dear mother's room, Charlotte. You need not see the rest of their punishments."

"It wasn't their—"

He slams me into the wall, and while it hurts my back, I almost smile at him because I think he's proven Severus and McGonagall right—this isn't a dream. In a dream world, Voldemort wouldn't be this violent toward me outside of the impregnation attempts. There would be no cause for it. All of these horrible things happening right now are completely true. That's not something to be happy about. "Leave."

"Thank you, my Lord," I say, voice cracking, tears in my eyes. His eyes widen slightly in surprise for a moment, and I waste no time rushing from the room, not bothering to look at any of the others.

A burning rage overwhelms me when I enter Bellatrix's room, and I start to pace around, trying to find a way to calm myself down. How dare she. My mother is a monster. She tortured Hermione for no reason other than the fact that Hermione is a Muggle-born rather than a pureblood. Everyone just stood around and let it happen. Even Narcissa. Narcissa, who I have grown to admire and love so much. She let her sister torture Hermione. A girl not much older than her own son, not much younger than me.

My eyes catch sight of the bookshelf on the other side of the room, the bookshelf with the pictures of me as a child and me in the garden with Mum—with Bellatrix. A primal sort of anger grips my heart, and I dash to the bookshelf and grab the edges without a single thought and pull the bookshelf onto the floor. Glass shatters and the wood splinters as the bookshelf slams into the floor. As it falls, a nick in the wood grabs my calf and tears it open but I hardly notice it—the pain takes some of my anger and simply turns it into frustration, both at myself and at the four pureblood supremacists being tortured upstairs right now. How could they have just sat by and allowed that to happen?

I'm eyeing the fireplace, trying to decide how that can be used for destruction as well, when the door opens and Bellatrix steps in, making sure to close the door quickly behind herself. "Aurelia," she sighs in relief. "I was so worried about—" Silence. She notices for the first time the fallen shelf. "What have you done?" Her eyes migrate to the blood now on the floor and seeping through my clothes. "Are you all right?" She rushes forward, arms outstretched, her wand already picking up the shattered mess.

I shove her back. "Stay the hell away from me!"

"Aurelia—"

"I saw what you did. I know what you did."

"I—"

"Shut up! You tortured my friend! You probably killed one of them with that knife!"

"Aurelia—"

"It's Charlotte!" All of my anger dissipates into sorrow, and tears prick my eyes. "I thought I had—why did I ever think—you were my mother for three days! I thought—I thought we could happy and you—you ruined it, Bellatrix, just like always!" I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. "I thought you had changed! I thought you wanted—I thought you wanted me to be—and then you turn around and—you just fell right back into—you went right back to your evil—"

"You don't understand the danger—"

"I don't understand the danger we're in?" I shriek. "I—the person the Dark Lord plans to kill—don't know the danger we're in? Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Aurelia—"

"She had done nothing to you!"

"She was a Mudblood, what do you care?"

My gaze blurs with anger. "She's a friend!"

Disappointment flashes across her face and lingers in her eyes. "Friends with a Mudblood?" she asks resentfully.

"Stop using that word!"

"She's nothing! She's a filthy—"

"ENOUGH! She is my friend, and you hurt her!"

"She's not worth your sorrows, Charlotte. She's a Mudblood."

Red flashes across my eyes, and I tackle Bellatrix to the floor, my hands around her neck. "Not worth it?" I hiss. "Not worth it? How can you say that? Was Zoe not worth my sorrows either because she wasn't the blood status you admire the most? I loved her, Bellatrix! I was in love with her! Would you have tortured her like the Dark Lord did? Would you have hurt her like you did Hermione? For no reason?" She did hurt Zoe. Just not the way she hurt Hermione.

A blast of magic throws me off of her, but before I smack into the wall, she stops me with a wave her wand and sets me onto the floor gently. I start toward her again, ready to attack her once more, but another spell stops me and holds me frozen. "Who gives you the right?" I scream, tears streaming down my face. "Who gives you the right to decide who gets to live and who doesn't? Blood status doesn't matter like you think it does! What should have mattered is me! Our relationship should have mattered more to you than—"

"Than what? Torturing that girl? They had the sword! The Dark Lord would have killed us all if—"

"He's going to kill me either way, so what if he takes the rest of you as well?" I cry. "Why should any of you get to live if I don't?"

She releases the spell around me, and I lose my balance and stumble to the floor. "He won't kill you," she says gently, crouching down beside me and healing my leg. Then she tries to help me to my feet, but I push her off. "We won't let him kill you."

"Don't touch me! Give me back my wand."

"Charlotte—"

"I'm going back to Hogwarts. I can't be around you." She hands me my wand. I watch her closely for a long moment before Disapparating.

I'm thoroughly shocked when my Apparition to Severus's private chambers was not thwarted by the wards around Hogwarts, but I'm so, so grateful that for whatever reason Severus does not have the protections around the castle right now. Why were they down? the voice in the back of my mind asks. It's not important right now, I answer it silently. Sobs already threatening to break the surface, I move to the sofa and sit down, preparing myself for a breakdown. I lie down, pull my knees to my chest, and let myself cry, my breath growing short, a lump burning in my throat, my heart racing.

I can't believe I did it again. Again! I let myself get attached to Bellatrix and now look. Just like always I end up hurt because of it. Why do I keep letting myself go back to her? She's not a mother, she's a monster. And though I know this, I continue to give her chance after chance after chance, and every single time she lets me down in some way.

Voldemort means too much to her for her ever to choose anyone over him.

A quiet pop! alerts me that someone is in the room, but I don't bother to look up. Either it's Severus and he'll say something nice or it's someone who will attack and kill me. Right now, I don't know which would be preferable.

"Charlotte?" Relief touches my heart. Perhaps I don't actually want to die right now. A sob escapes me, and Severus's warm hand rests on my shoulder. "What's happened?"

I look up at him and immediately move to wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder and continuing to let myself sob. "I . . . I fell for it again, Severus."

He holds me tightly. "Fell for what again?"

"Bell-Bellatrix."

"Did she hurt you?" he whispers.

I grip him more tightly and take a shaking breath, then pull away from him and sit up on the sofa so he can take the spot beside me. As he sits down, I try to calm myself with deep, even breaths. I rest against him again, taking the front of his robes into my hands and trying to strangle the life out of them. Try as I might to speak, I can't because my lungs won't even take in air right now.

"Charlotte," he says, his voice calm and kind, "what happened? Is it your father?"

I shake my head and take one more deep breath, then exhale it slowly. "Bellatrix." I pull away from him, shaking my head. "Snatchers caught them—Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were brought to the manor." His face becomes greatly concerned. "They had the Sword of Gryffindor. Bellatrix . . . she—she tortured Hermione," I whisper. "I was in the room. Invisible. She tortured her."

"They had the sword? What happened to it?"

"How can you care about the sword right now?"

"Granger is strong. She'll be fine."

"But she threw a knife as Dobby escaped with them. The knife went too. What if they're dead, Severus?"

"They're not dead," he says. "Dobby?"

"He arrived to save them. They got out."

He takes my hand comfortingly. "You're fine."

"The Dark Lord arrived. Nagini sensed that I was in the room. He . . . he wasn't pleased."

"He hurt you?"

I nod, and he rubs the back of my hand gently. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to go back to the manor. I can't keep doing this. I'm not strong enough, I know I'm not strong enough. It's killing me."

He touches the side of my face and smiles at me. "You're strong enough, I know you are. If Potter and his friends have been seen, they are no doubt close to finding everything they need to destroy the Dark Lord, and that means it is almost over. You just have to hold out a little longer."

A little longer? No, it's never going to end. I know it's never going to end.

"Do you need something, Charlotte?" he asks, his eyes watching my face intently.

"I . . ." I close my eyes. "I'd like to speak with McGonagall."

"McGonagall?"

"Yes."

He nods and helps me to my feet. "Go speak with her. I'll be here if you want to come back. I'll leave the wards down in the bathroom for a while."

I nod at him, then kiss his cheek.

I walk out of his chambers and through his office, not bothering to look at the portraits of past headmasters. The gargoyle statue moves aside for me, and I make a beeline to McGonagall's office. It doesn't take her long to open her door after I knock on it, but she stares at me in confusion for a lingering moment before I say, "Can I come in?"

She nods, and I go to the chair across from hers. "I thought you were gone for the holiday."

"I was. The Dark Lord wanted me to go with Bellatrix for the break. And I did."

"And something happened?"

I nod. "I thought she could actually be my mother. I wanted it so badly. And then . . . she went back to being her Death Eater self." She watches me. "Some Snatchers had Harry, Ron, and Hermione." Her lips thin out. "She tortured Hermione." I close my eyes. "I just watched it, Professor. I was in the room, and I did nothing to stop her."

"You couldn't have been expected to stop her and make it out of the manor alive."

"I should have done something though. She was in so much pain."

"Did they escape?"

"Yes." I quickly explain how Dobby arrived and rescued the Golden Trio before Bellatrix could kill them, and she, too, is uneasy about the knife. She grimaces, a certain concern in her eyes. Of course she's concerned. Who wouldn't be after hearing that the one hope to stop Voldemort might be dead? "I should have done something, Professor. I should have helped them."

"There was nothing you could do. Any action you took would have likely led to her death and your torture."

I don't know whether she actually believes that or not, but she says it in such a way that makes me want to believe her completely and without question. She would know, wouldn't she? She's a part of the Order. She was there for the first war. She would know if my actions would have led only to worse things. I have to believe her or drive myself mad. I have to believe her or face the consequences of my inactions—face the fact that Hermione was tortured because I did nothing to stop it. We're at war, and Hermione has to live. She knows what the Golden Trio is looking for, and I know that Ron and Harry need her.

In a war, every life and secret counts. We need the Golden Trio alive to accomplish whatever secret mission they're on.

"I understand that you wish you would have done something," she says. "But what could you have done?"

Doubting that she actually expects an answer, I offer her one anyway, "I could've defended her. I mean, I could have attacked Bellatrix on behalf of Hermione. I could have done . . . I could have . . . I . . . I could have risked my own self for her! After all, isn't that what she and Harry and Ron are doing for the rest of us? And if the war needs anyone alive, it's the three of them, not some witch being forced to have the Dark Lord's child. Honestly, it might be better if I were gone. Then the Dark Lord would for sure not fulfill this part of his plan. I mean, at least not yet. He might find someone to replace me but . . . maybe Harry will have killed him by then."

"No one wants you dead." I look away from her. "Would your stopping Bellatrix have ended the torture, or would she have simply added you to the list of people she would torture?"

I don't want to answer her because while I want to believe that Bellatrix wouldn't try to torture me, all the evidence points to the fact that she absolutely would if told to do so. Now, after everything I said to her before leaving the manor . . . I don't know what she might do to me the next time she's given a chance.

"Do not torment yourself," McGonagall says. "There's nothing you could have done to make the situation any better for Miss Granger. All that could have been done would have caused her more pain."

"Sure."

Hermione's shrieks of agony continue playing in my mind, making it almost impossible to believe that there was nothing to do to help her. Something could have been done—I'm just currently unsure what that is.

From the corner of my eye, I see McGonagall moving, but I don't pay much attention to it, and it's not until she is handing me a steaming cup that I look up. "Hot cocoa," she says. "I find that it tends to help me feel better."

I gladly accept it and begin drinking. The warmth soaks deep into me, and I have to admit that it does indeed make me feel better. "Professor, I have a question. Well, I need advice." She nods for me to continue. "I'm going to be very vague about it, for both our sakes. And safety."

"I'll do my best to help you."

"Say that I know something—a secret, sort of. I know something that could change things—either for the better or for the worse, I won't know which unless I tell. Should I risk it and tell someone, or should I play it safe and keep it to myself?" I take a swig of the hot cocoa. "Granted, even if I tell right now, no one will know if it's good or bad for quite some time. It'll just . . . change things."

"If you tell and it is good, will it help the war?"

"I think so. It'll distract the Death Eaters for a while at least, whether it's good or bad."

"And how did you find out this piece of information?"

"Snape. I overheard it." That's a lie, but she doesn't need to know that.

Her eyes narrow. "Who would you be telling?"

"I can't say."

"If you believe there is a chance of it helping . . . then yes, I believe you should tell this person."

I finish the cocoa and set the cup on the desk. "Thank you, Professor. Now there's something I must do."

I stand and leave her office, making my way back to the bathroom so I can return to Severus's chambers. Though I pass a couple other students on the way there, we do not speak, giving me ample time to fret over what I'm about to do and allowing my stomach to grow more and more uneasy with nerves. I Apparate the moment the door closes behind me.

Severus isn't in his quarters, and I walk to the door leading to his private chambers and knock on it once, then make my way to the sofa. I don't sit because I can't right now due to the nerves bouncing through me, keeping me from being calm at all.

Finally, Severus enters. "How are you?"

I start pacing back and forth behind the sofa, taking deep breaths and twining my fingers together. "I don't really know how to say this, Severus. I've been trying to figure it out, and nothing seems right. At all."

He frowns and takes my hands in his to get me to stop pacing back and forth. "Just say it."

I nod. "You're right, you're right. I just have to say it. I just have to come right out and say it. I just have to . . ." I exhale. "I'm . . . I'm so scared."

"I'm here," he says, putting his hands on my shoulders to stop me from pacing and continuing to stand directly in front of me.

I close my eyes for a moment before opening them and looking into his black eyes. Something about them comforts me and pulls the words out of me. "Severus, I'm pregnant."

His mouth opens for a moment, then closes, his eyes wide and concerned. "You're sure?" I nod, and a smile breaks across his face. Then he takes me into his arms and holds me tightly. "I've suspected for a while that you might be."

"And you didn't bother to tell me?"

His chest vibrates with quiet laughter, and he pulls away from me, still smiling. "When did you find out?"

"Confirmed it earlier this month. Why are you smiling?"

Very slowly, the smile drops from his face. "Oh . . . oh, Charlotte." He swallows and whispers, his voice heavy with the complete realization of what's happened, "You're pregnant." Tears prick my eyes, and he takes me into his arms again, this time with not nearly as much joy. "I'm so sorry."

He pulls away from me, and I swallow down the sorrow bubbling up in me. "I mean, it was bound to happen, yeah? Eventually?" He nods, his face grim. "But I mean, it . . . it's probably yours, right? Ours?"

His hands drift to my belly and rest atop what might either be his child or Voldemort's child. A sad smile comes to his lips, and he meets my gaze with an odd look in his eyes. "It's ours. Our child. No matter what happens, it'll be ours."

"What am I supposed to—"

"Don't tell anyone," he says quickly, a panicked expression on his face. "You can't tell anyone. The Dark Lord cannot know, or he'll take you away. He'll lock you up somewhere to keep you 'safe' from all others. I won't be able to help you, and I won't—don't tell anyone. Please. I won't risk him taking you somewhere where you can't escape, where I can't find you and free you."

"I won't," I promise.

"And when we're sure—absolutely sure—that Potter can destroy the Dark Lord, we'll escape." He smiles at me. "We'll disappear until you have the child. No one has to know. We can raise our child together. Away from the Dark Lord, away from your mother. Away from everyone. I'll keep you safe."

I pull him into my arms and rest my head against his chest. We're going to have a child. Our child. And we're going to protect it.