Pretty Good Year

7.

She falls three times before she reaches the kitchen doors. It does not occur to her to use magic to clear her path until she trips over a teapot and strikes her head on the sharp edge of an overturned table. When she reaches the corridor she takes the hem of her robe in hand and pulls it up to her knees, running down the pitch black corridor as she has never run in her life.

The struggle on the upper floors of the castle echoes like thunder over her head. She expects at any moment to come face to face with the fat, leering Death Eater she stunned at her house, what seems an age ago. But she meets no one.

Fear mounts with every door she passes. They all look alike even when the hallway is lit, and the farther she runs the more certain she is that she has forgotten the location of Snape's office, that she must turn around and go back to find him.

When she spots a thin beam of light emanating from the crack beneath a door ahead of her she sobs once, in relief, and runs straight at it, turning the latch and throwing her weight against it. There is no resistance, not even a ward, and when the door bursts open she nearly falls to the ground.

Snape is standing at his desk, looking at her as though he has never seen her before. His left hand is raised, a long, narrow vial of shimmering red liquid poised inches from his lips.

She knows, without knowing how, what the potion is, and what he is doing with it.

She opens her mouth to speak, and finding that she has no breath, gasps the words between great gulps of air.

"We have--to get out of here." She lifts a hand to wipe away the blood and the perspiration that is tricking into her eyes. "Professor Lupin told me--there's a passageway--upstairs."

He continues to watch her, neither moving nor speaking. Then his hand shifts, bringing the vial a fraction of an inch closer to his mouth.

A bolt of white heat flashes in front of her eyes, and in that moment of strange blindness she hears the chime of breaking glass. When the fog clears seconds later, she finds her wand pointed at Snape, who is looking at the remains of the now shattered vial in his hand. The red potion is dripping from his fingers, and blood is welling from three different small cuts on his face.

He looks from the vial to Luna. His eyes are wider than she would have ever thought possible.

She lowers her wand. "I owe you a life debt. You owe me the opportunity to repay it."

He takes a long, shuddering breath, and in that moment seems to come back to himself. He casts the broken vial onto his desk, and he speaks as she has never heard him speak, his voice tired and neutral, as though they had never spent a night flying on a magic carpet together. "The grounds have certainly been taken, and there is no way out of the castle that does not cross them."

"You haven't listened to me. Lupin told me how to reach a secret passageway that leads into Hogsmeade. It's just upstairs, but we have to go now or we won't reach it without being seen."

The corner of Snape's mouth assumes its familiar position, crooked a half inch close to his nose than the other half. The sight is strangely reassuring to Luna. "That is absurd. There are no secret passageways out of the castle that I do not know about."

Luna smiles back. "Yes of course, because Harry never managed to sneak out of the castle without you knowing how he managed it."

Snape's chin jerks up, and his nostrils flare. "Lupin. Of course. I should have realized...." He sighs suddenly, and shakes his head. "All right. Let us see this hidden passage of yours. I warn you, though, we are not likely to find our way to any portion of the castle not already under enemy control." He searches out his wand from amongst the clutter on top of his desk, and averts his eyes. "And I will not risk capture."

Luna doesn't speak, or otherwise acknowledge his words, except in spinning on her heel and walking back toward the door of his office. She hears the soft click of Snape's heels against the stone floor as he passes, then overtakes her, shoving her to side so that he is the first through the door. He pauses there a moment, then looks back at Luna over his shoulder.

"I have a brief chore to accomplish. You will wait here for me."

He is yards away before she can even open her mouth to protest, walking back in the direction of the kitchens and disappearing around a corner only a short distance down the corridor. She can hear the rusty complaint of a turning metal hinge, as a door long sealed is opened, then shut. Seconds later Snape has rounded the corner again in her direction, and before she has time to think of asking what he had done they are running together in the direction of the north stair.

The stairwell itself is deserted. The ground floor, however, is swarming with voices, none of them familiar to Luna save from nightmares of past battles.

Snape leans close to her. "The passage. It is hidden somewhere near the statue of the one-eyed witch, am I right?"

"Yes," Luna whispers, feeling somewhat cheated. "Tap it and say 'dissendium.'" "Ahh." In the dim light she can see the flash of his teeth, and she feels suddenly sorry for Harry.

She takes a step forward, intending to peer around the corner into the landing above, but Snape restrains her. "Wait," he says, and, withdrawing his wand, taps her on the head with it, whispering something unintelligible. He then does the same to himself, and, fascinated, she see him melt into the stone wall behind him.

"There's a spell for invisibility," she whispers.

"Camouflage only. It won't fool them if they are paying close attention, but we may be able to slip past in a distraction. Stay behind me."

He emerges into the hallway with long, slow steps, keeping his back to the wall. Luna walks close behind him. From where they stand the one-eyed witch is only a few yards away, a mere dash across the corridor to the round inset of enormously high windows. But several feet down the corridor a group of Death Eaters are marching seven abreast in their direction, and collapsed in their wake is the motionless form of Professor Sprout.

Luna claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of a gasp. She feels Snape's hand gripping her shoulder.

"We will wait until they pass before we cross," he whispers, almost too softly to hear. "They will see our shadows if we stand in direct light."

"Can't we help her?"

"No."

The Death Eaters are near enough now that Luna can feel the air moved by the swirl of their robes. She recognizes three of them from the battle at the Department of Mysteries, but the only one she knows by name is Lucius Malfoy, cruel and beautiful as an ancient stone sculpture. Snape's fingers dig into her flesh, and she stares hard at the Death Eaters as though she could wound them with her gaze.

She realizes, in that moment, that she would strike them if she could--use curses she has only read about to rip their skin from their bodies, cause their hearts to burst in their chests. She wants to attack them now more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. She would die, gladly, if she could kill just one of them.

Snape breathes, slowly, beside her, and she comes back to herself, remembering the debt she owes him. She is, in a very real sense, responsible for him now.

There will be time to die later.

She does not move until Malfoy and the others are so far down the corridor she can no longer hear their footsteps. Then she pulls away from Snape, and runs toward Professor Sprout.

"Luna," Snape whispers, and when she kneels beside the professor's body he is beside her.

. Sprout lies on her side, no wound or blemish apparent. When Luna turns her on her back she sees a thin trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth.

"Come away. You can do nothing for her."

"There may be others." Luna cannot tear her gaze from the wide, shocked eyes in the kindly face, still and paler than anything she has ever seen.

"Do you wish to join them?" He gets to his feet. There is no impatience or reprimand in his voice. "You cannot let yourself think about it.

"How?" she says, rising.

He does not answer. Luna closes the dead woman's eyes, and walks briskly to the statue, cold in the morning light.

The incantation works on the first try. The hump on the statue of the one-eyed witch opens, and Luna places one foot on the pedestal, preparing to climb in, when she notices that Snape is standing a few feet off, not moving.

She steps down. "You go first."

He does not look at her. He is gazing out the windows, a hand clenched at his side. "I am a teacher. I am entrusted with the defense of this castle."

"I won't leave without you."

"I can make you, if necessary."

"Not unless you are a coward."

He spins to face her, his nostrils wide and his mouth open.

Luna stands completely still, afraid that any movement will send him running the other direction. "You would have poisoned yourself when you thought there was no escape. Now there is an escape, you refuse it. Are you so afraid of living that you will go out of your way to die?"

"You know nothing." Snape's eyes are narrowed.

A door slams in the distance. Snape turns his head briefly to the side, and in the time it takes him to find her with his eyes again she has raised her wand hand to the level of his throat.

"I will compel you, if necessary." She steps away from the statue, without lowering her wand. "But I'm certain that would increase our chances of capture."

He watches her a long moment. Then, expelling a long breath, he walks to the statue, climbs over the pedestal, and lowers himself through the opening. She waits until she hears the impact of his feet on the ground below, then climbs up after him, pulling the hump of the statue down over her head.

She is disoriented in the darkness until the end of a lighted wand ignites before her. Snape is moving forward, the light stretched ahead of him. "Lumos," she whispers, and follows.

*

The passageway is frigid, and stretches before them for what seems like miles. Luna can see her breath as a white mist in the air whenever she exhales. The whole world has contracted to what she can see in the light at the end of their wands, the sway of Snape's long robes, the reflection of the fire against his hair.

She becomes wearier with every step, her legs and arms sluggish. At length she stumbles over the hem of her skirt, and catches herself against the pebbled stone wall of the passage.

Snape turns and, wordlessly, helps her up. He does not remove his hand from her back, even after she regains her footing. Thereafter they walk the passage side by side.

She does not know they have reached the end until Snape halts. She has been studying the ground beneath their feet, the small stones that scatter before their shoes. She watches as he points his wand at the small trapdoor over their head, and mutters, "Reveal."

Before her eyes the wooden rectangle shimmers, and becomes transparent. Beyond it, she can see a room, littered with empty, overturned boxes. It appears deserted.

She jerks, startled, as beside her Snape begins to laugh, low and quiet. She looks at him, as he continues to stare through the trap door.

"Honeydukes." He looks at her sidelong, then looks away, still laughing. "What are the time honored edicts and regulations of the greatest school in Britain compared to this?"

Luna can't help but feel that this is a highly inopportune moment for Snape to develop a sense of humor. "Can't we Apparate from here?"

"I wouldn't care to risk it. Jinxes as strong as those tend to fill the space between barriers." He traces the gap between the door and the aperture with a long finger. "Hogsmeade is occupied. We shall have to mind our step."

He opens the door, and climbs the steps. She waits, holding her breath, until he turns back and nods. Then she climbs up after him.

"To Grimmauld Place," he says, standing amongst the wreckage of the bare cellar, and then he is gone with a sharp crack.

She pictures the room in which they drank tea that morning, when the world was a different place. Then she follows.

*

Their tea things are still on the table in the parlor when she Apparates into Grimmauld Place seconds later. The white Death Eater's mask Snape had worn when she first saw him hours ago lies on the floor near the armchair. She looks at it now and cannot remember what impelled her to touch it then. She watches it now as though it were a snake, coiled to strike.

Snape is standing at the window, looking outside. "You haven't slept yet. There are beds upstairs. I believe you will find fresh linen in the cupboard."

Luna stares at the back of his head, unable to think of how she should reply. Anything she could force past the censorship of her teeth and tongue would be inadequate.

She is saved from all comment, however, when footsteps on the staircase distract them both. Neither of them have put their wands away yet, and they raise them in unison as a tall, thin figure in brown robes turns the corner into the parlor.

"Luna." Lupin glances from Luna to Snape and back again, and smiles. "Well done."

"Lupin." Snape lowers his wand, but does not put it away. He looks at Lupin as though he has something urgent to say, but he checks himself. He too glances at Luna, who suddenly feels like a child who has strayed into the adult's conversation and must be put to bed before matters of importance can be concluded.

"Hermione?" she says to Lupin, partly out of concern, and partly to show Snape that he, too, is ignorant in some matters.

"She's upstairs, resting. She'll be fine." Lupin speaks in the same careful, polite tone he used when offering her tea and inquiring after her dead father. "How are you? That gash looks nasty."

Luna touches the patch of dried blood at her temple. Snape jerks and looks at her as though noticing her face for the first time. It occurs to Luna that in the last months he has probably become more accustomed to seeing people bloody and injured than not. "I feel fine, but I should wash. Where is Hermione staying?"

"First door past the washroom. I believe she's sleeping now, but there's another bed there, already turned down."

Luna nods. She looks at Snape, who has turned his back to her again, and mounts the stairs with heavy, silent steps. When she is halfway up she stops, and flattening herself to the wall, turns to listen.

"...compromised the wards?"

Lupin's voice is too low to hear. There is one word which sounds like "Aurelia," which she knows to be Professor Vector's given name, and another that sounds like "Flitwick."

"...Honoria Sprout," she hears Snape say. "...Malfoy, Rosier...Lestrange."

Her vision becomes blurred then, and she throws a hand against the wall to steady herself. Her head is aching, and for the first time she is aware that the cut over her eye is stinging, throbbing in time with her pulse. Still steadying herself against the wall, she turns and climbs the stairs to the landing.

She walks to the loo, then turns and stands in the doorway. From this perspective the upper floor of Grimmauld Place is similar to her house in Ottery St. Catchpole. She stares in the direction of the staircase, waiting for the fat man in mask and robes to come thundering into view. This time she will not waste time stunning him. She will use the curse Hermione taught the D.A. two years ago, the one the nearly killed her when she dueled Antonin Dolohov at the Department of Mysteries. A flick of Luna's wand, and she can slash his throat. A simple incantation, and she sever his heart from its moorings within his breast.

She steps inside the loo and faces the mirror. In the dim light she looks like the Bloody Baron, ghastly and only half alive. This makes her think of the Grey Lady, who failed her. She wonders what has happened to the ghosts now that Hogwarts is taken. Would they stay? Would the Death Eaters destroy them? Would they come to the Death Eaters in the night when they were unable to sleep, and speak to them of times past, before they were murderers?

She pours water from the jug into the wash basin, and when she cannot find a cloth she moistens the hem of her white sleeve. She scrubs at the dried blood over her eye, and continues to rub when the cut begins to sting and bleed again. The pain is concrete; she holds on to it, scrubbing harder as the sensation of being again within her body begins to dull the screams mounting in her throat.

A moment later she realizes that she is crying. She lowers her arm, and a fresh trickle of blood runs down the side of her face. She sits on the edge of the tub and folds her arms over her stomach.

"Luna?"

She lifts her head, and though her eyes are swollen she can see Hermione, thin and pale, standing in the doorway, supporting herself against the frame. There are dark bruises down the left side of her face, and one of her eyes is swollen shut.

Luna stands, unsteadily, and takes a step toward her. Hermione holds her arms out at the same time, and Luna lets herself be embraced. She leans her head against Hermione's shoulder, though she knows she is staining the other girls' robes with tears and blood.

When she has cried until she is barely able to stand, Hermione puts an arm around her waist, and slowly, Hermione limping, they help each other across the landing to the bedroom, where the promise of a bed fills Luna with so much relief that she wants to cry again. Only after she and Hermione are both underneath covers, shivering and silent, does Luna realize that at the foot of the stairs a tall figure in black robes had watched them as they passed, as though observing some sacred rite he dare not intrude upon.