Mist and Vapors

Minerva breathed a huge sigh of relief when she arrived safely back at Hogwarts, a dour Snape trailing behind her.

He had practically been fuming from the ears when he had found Hannigan's office empty. The language he had used the moment he realized Frank had disappeared would have been enough to make a hag blush. Minerva had had her work cut out for her trying to extract Severus from Hannigan's office without further incident while simultaneously trying to sweet-talk Wilson-the-secretary out of calling a watch-wizard.

Then she had had an even harder job in persuading a seething Snape that it would accomplish nothing to remain at the Ministry; that it would, in his current state of mind, be actually counterproductive to start working his way down the rows of cubicles attempting to extract information. Tonks was in a much better position to do that, she argued; she knew most of these people and was friendly with many of them. He had not seen reason until Tonks had promised to stay at the Aurors' Office as long as necessary, to keep her eyes and ears open, and to send her Patronus as soon as she found out anything that could be of the slightest interest. Only then had she been able to persuade him to leave.

"I think we could both do with a cup of tea," Minerva said briskly as she opened the door to her office. She didn't like the look on his face - there was a bitter, defeated quality, as if all the fight had drained out of him for the moment.

She had just set the pot steeping when Flitwick and Lupin came through the door.

Severus turned sharply from where he had been staring out the window. "Anything new?"

"We were just going to ask you the same thing," Flitwick said with an apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid our search turned up absolutely nothing new at all. How did it go at the Ministry?"

Minerva answered as Severus turned back to the window. "Not well. Hannigan's as cold a fish as I've ever seen. I'm quite certain he's involved somehow. The news that his daughter had disappeared didn't come as the least bit of a surprise to him, I swear, but he denied all knowledge of the affair. There wasn't much we could do."

"Her own father?" Flitwick asked, a haggard look on his face. "Knowing him, I shouldn't be surprised, but..." His voice trailed off. "You don't want to think that of anyone."

"If you'd been there, there wouldn't be a doubt in your mind," McGonagall said primly.

Severus had straightened up and turned around. "I should return to my office," he said tonelessly. "I appreciate your concern, but there doesn't seem to be anything else that can be done. I have taken up enough of your time with my affairs."

There was a pause, and then Flitwick looked up at him with exasperation. "Don't be a blooming idiot, Severus," he said succinctly. "This isn't just your affair. We care about Hannah, too. And about you. And we aren't about to let you go off to stew alone in your office, especially when we haven't the faintest idea what else Hannigan might be up to. So you might just as well get used to the idea that for the moment, you are stuck with us."

Severus cast a quick glance at McGonagall and Lupin. "Afraid so," Remus said affably.

"I see no reason to keep you from your business," Snape said stiff-lipped. "There is nothing anyone can do, and I assure you I don't require hand-holding."

Flitwick had walked over to him and placed a small hand on his arm. "I know you don't," he said so quietly that the other two couldn't hear. "And heaven knows we've done a shabby enough job letting you know how much we care about you in the past, so why should you want us now? I know I've missed too many opportunities to tell you, but let me make up for that now - you have a friend if you want one. I'm sure Minerva and Remus would say the same thing. And the fact is that even though you don't need my company, I would be glad of yours. Because, you see," he smiled a small, tense smile at him, "I am worried sick about her, too. She is like a daughter to me, and she loves you dearly. So for my sake, stay? And if there is anything that can be done, well, four heads are better than one."

Snape looked down at him, his face immobile, black eyes glittering like dark ice. Friends? Where had these 'friends' been all the years he had worked at Hogwarts, alone in his dungeon? Where had they been when he had spied for the Order, but hadn't even felt part enough of that group to stay for meals? Friends? He had never had friends. But through the bitter thoughts other images kept ruthlessly muscling in. Flitwick thrusting his own wand into his hands. The look of relief on Remus' face when he had walked out of the Wizengamut a free man. Minerva sticking to him like a burr at the Ministry.

And the idea of being alone in his office, dead-end thoughts endlessly bouncing around in his brain like small rubber balls, going nowhere, suddenly seemed cold and dismal.

He gave a short nod. "I'll stay," he said softly, hoarsely.

Flitwick squeezed his arm lightly, tears in his eyes. "Good," he said.

.-.-.

Hannah sat on the edge of her bed, eating her sandwich as slowly as possible. I am out of my depth here, she thought miserably. I can't think on my feet like Severus can. Her stomach clenched tightly for a moment. What would he do?

Well, she thought, suppressing a bitter smirk, to put it precisely, what would he do if he were an unarmed Squib who somehow had to take on a wizard weighing several stone more than he did? The odds seemed just slightly stacked in her father's favor... Think, she told herself.

But what could she possibly do? He was staying well back from her, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. If she tried to attack, he would have his wand out before she ever reached him, and that would be that. For any chance at success, she would need to get him within arm's reach. Even then, the likelihood of succeeding was slim. But once she was under the Silencio and back in a body bind, there would be no more chances whatsoever.

"So where are we going?" she asked as she picked up the glass and drank the last of the milk.

"I don't know exactly," Frank said irritably. "I told you he doesn't trust me. But someplace not too far from Hogwarts, I am told."

"Where are we now? Anywhere near there?"

Frank's face closed down. "I told you that our whereabouts are none of your business, didn't I? - Could you hurry up?" he asked in an annoyed voice. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat a piece of bread more slowly."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't eaten in a long time. I'll make myself sick if I eat too fast, I'm afraid." She was just stalling, really, waiting for a stroke of inspiration or luck. Keep him talking, she thought. Figure out a way to get him closer.

She looked down at the last bit of sandwich in her hand with a flit of a smile. "Do you know what I just remembered? Mum always cut sandwiches into quarters, not halves. Funny, isn't it, the little things that come back to you?"

Frank had turned, staring up at the patch of grey sky that showed through the window. "Yes," he said, almost inaudibly. "It is."

"She was about my age when she died, wasn't she?" She looked down at her hands. "It seems so strange to think that."

"She died too young," he said, still staring out the window. "Much too young."

"Yes, she did," she whispered. For a moment, it was silent.

Then, "Do you ever regret that you destroyed all her things?" Hannah asked hesitantly. "I have wished so many times that I at least still had a picture of her. - I know it was a terrible time for you," she said quickly as he stiffened. "I am not blaming you."

Frank finally turned his head. "I kept one," he said hoarsely. "Just one."

"You did?" She could feel her heartbeat speeding up. "You have a picture of her?"

One jerking little nod. "I do. She gave it to me for my birthday, the year before she died. I couldn't bring myself to destroy it."

Her chest feeling tight, Hannah looked up at him with burning eyes. "Do you have it with you?" She was desperate to get the words out before he could interrupt her. "I know you plan on Obliviating me, but, Father, if I could see her just one more time..." There was such a sharp note of longing in her voice that Frank stared at her, emotions warring on his face.

"Close your eyes," he finally said, sounding unwilling and strangely compelled at the same time.

After a questioning look, she obeyed. She could feel her body grow stiff from the neck down again as another spell bound her immobile. He was too careful. But...her mother. For a moment, she forgot everything else. He had a picture. There was one picture left.

She heard him moving towards her. "Open your eyes," he whispered.

When she did, he was crouching in front of her. He had pulled a chain with a locket out of the collar of his shirt, and was holding the open locket out to her. "Look," he said, his face lit with a strange, fanatical fire. "Look at her. Can you see? Can you see her?"

Inhaling softly, tears springing to her eyes, she stared at the miniature color photograph inside the locket. There was a warm, sweet smile on Lydia Hannigan's face as she looked into her daughter's eyes. "Mum..." Hannah whispered. As their eyes met, she felt thirteen years old again. Her own memory had grown hazy over the years, snippets and misty outlines, and she gazed intently at the image, trying to imprint it into the circuits of her mind. I've missed you so much...

"Look at her." Frank's voice was eager. "Her hair is the same color as yours, see? And even the same length. Your chin is a little wider. But you have the same nose and eyes. Except that her eyes are a different color. She had hazel eyes, beautiful hazel eyes. Small green specks around the pupils, and a dark green ring around the iris. And see," he pointed again at the locket. "Her smile. You have her smile." He held the locket out for a moment longer, and then closed it with a snap. "But I told you that already, didn't I? I know I did." He stood up and backed away again, towards the door. A moment later, when she could feel the stiffness lift off her body, he was back to pacing along the narrow side of the room. "That's one reason I won't kill you, once Snape is dead," he said, with the same eager, hard voice. "They cheated me out of growing old with her. I'll keep track of you, when you are back in the Muggle world, and I'll be able to come and look at you. You won't know I am there, but I will be watching you, watching you change over the years. I'll be able to see you grow older, to know what she would have looked like at forty, at fifty, at sixty. For the rest of your life, you'll remind me of her. Maybe once you've forgotten who I am, we could even be friends."

Cold shivers running down her spine, Hannah listened to him talk. For a moment, thinking about her mother, she had forgotten that she was dealing with a madman. Once Snape is dead... Her mind snapped back into gear.

"Thank you for letting me see her," she said, in a carefully neutral tone.

Frank simply nodded. He pulled out his wand, and the plate and cup vanished. "We should get ready. It'll be time, soon now..."

He walked a few steps, turned, and looked sharply at his daughter. There must have been something in her expression that made his own face harden. "I know you must think I'm crazy." He tucked his wand away somewhere inside his suit jacket, and his right hand closed around the locket as he resumed pacing the narrow end of the room. "But I am not going to let some filthy, black-souled Death Eater have you. I would rather see you dead than in the arms of one of those bastards. You didn't see her body when we found her," he said, hard anguish in his voice as he walked back and forth. "Those animals only had her alone for maybe five minutes. Just five minutes."

"Flitwick told me about some of her injuries," Hannah said softly, forcing herself to stay calm, to keep him talking. "She must have put up a fierce fight."

"They showed her no mercy. You should have seen..." He stopped mid-sentence and inhaled with a short, strangled sob. "And it was all so unnecessary; those people she was trying to rescue were only Muggles, not even wizards...."

Right then, Hannah leaned forward with a sharp exhalation, hands pressed against her abdomen.

"What is it?" Frank stopped pacing.

"Nothing. Just a bit of a stomach ache." She smiled a strained smile at him. "I'll be fine."

He nodded distractedly. "Yes, yes...but that was the kind of person that she was, risking her life for mere Muggles, when a witch of her caliber was worth a hundred of them or more..."

There was a louder moan as she swayed forward. Seconds later, she had slipped onto the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, doubled over.

"What's wrong?" Frank had come a few steps closer. "Is it getting worse?"

Her face was contorted into a grimace of pain. "Is this...part of your plan?" The words came out in gasps. "Poison?" Her eyes were burning as she clutched her abdomen, rocking herself, panting. "I can't believe you would...Aah!" A strangled cry, and she curled up on the floor.

"I didn't, I swear!" Frank had knelt down a short distance away, looking worried and baffled. "The mayonnaise must have been bad or something..."

"Help me!" She was begging, crying. Then, a look of panic. "Bathroom. Get me to the bathroom."

Alarm on his face, Frank took the last few steps towards her, hooked his arm around her, and helped her up.

Hannah stood shakily, one hand against her stomach, the other holding on to his arm to steady herself. He's your father, she thought for a panicky second. He's the man who wants to kill Severus, another part reminded her, sharply and sternly. The dull roar of blood in her ears died down, and for a moment, everything grew glass-clear and quiet in her mind.

In a split second, her posture changed. Her free hand came up with force. The heel of her palm drove up into his nose, hard. The crunch of bone. A shout, and Hannigan's hands shot up to his face in reflex reaction as blood spurted from his broken nose. At almost the same time, a shifting of weight. Her knee came up sharply. With a muffled cry, Hannigan dropped to the ground, doubling up, whimpering and groaning. Frantically, Hannah knelt and slipped her hand inside his suit jacket, feeling around, trying to find his wand. Before she could find it, a blood-covered hand clutched her arm and grasped her, tightly. Hard, watering eyes glared at her venomously. The air crackled with raw magic. With a stifled exclamation, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. And ran.

Out the open door, down a staircase. There had to be a way out. She ran to the front door, turned the handle, pushed hard. No luck. The window in the room next to it - it didn't budge. She picked up a chair and threw it against the glass. It bounced off harmlessly. Her eyes dashed around. Nothing left to try here. The backdoor, then.

She sprinted back the way she had come, tried the door. Sealed. What she wouldn't give for a wand and some magic right about now. Desperation rising like bile in the back of her throat, she rattled the door handle, again. Nothing. Upstairs, then. She turned around, and froze. Frank was limping towards her, slightly bent over, blood covering his shirtfront and jacket, his eyes narrow specks of hatred, wand in hand.

"No!" She managed to dodged his curse once. The spell knocked plaster off the wall next to her in a small white cloud. But she was trapped, between Frank and a closed door, with no place to even hide. It was over in a second. A word, a wand tip pointed at her, and the spell once again froze her body into rigid immobility. Finished, she thought dully. As she tipped forward stiffly, another spell caught her and flipped her over. With a thud, she landed hard on her back.

"You!" He had a handkerchief pressed against his nose, his words coming out muffled and furious. "I should kill you after that performance." Slowly, deliberately, he backhanded her across the mouth. A warm, metallic taste filled her mouth as blood ran from a split lip. "If you were anyone other than my daughter, I would kill you."

She watched as he lifted his wand to his nose. The flow of blood ceased, and the bone moved back into place. He ran the wand tip over his shirt and jacket, cleaning up the worst of the bloodstains. Yet the bruises where the blood had seeped under the skin remained, darkening to blue-black patches beneath his eyes.

Eyes glittering dangerously and lips pressed tightly together, he glared at Hannah. "You'll pay for this," he said harshly. "I swear, you'll pay for this."

He turned his back abruptly and pulled out the mirror. "Peter Pettigrew!" From her position on the floor, she could just barely see Wormtail's face appear on the shimmering surface.

The small wizard looked at Frank with raised eyebrows. "Good grief, what happened to you?" His face broke into a grin. "Don't tell me that Squib daughter of yours put one over on you?"

"I am tired of waiting. I want answers now. Or I'll take my business elsewhere."

"Fine, fine," Pettigrew said in a sulk. "I'll owl you the Portkey."

Hannigan nodded grimly. "I warn you, if it isn't here in one hour, the deal is off."

"Oh, it'll be there." With that, Pettigrew's smirking face faded away.

.-.-.-.

He didn't break the deal. Within forty-five minutes, there was the beating of wings against the front door, and Frank disappeared, still limping. Just a minute or so later, he came back into the room where Hannah was lying motionlessly.

"Finally," he said with grim pleasure. He opened the package carefully to reveal a half-rusted soup tin. Reaching over, he firmly grasped Hannah's hand. "Well, dear daughter of mine, let's go!"

Everything moved in a whirlwind as the Portkey picked them up and whisked them away. When the navel-pulling sensation ceased, they were outside a decrepit farm house. The door opened, and there stood Pettigrew, wand at the ready.

"Frank. You made it." He looked down at Hannah, who was lying on the ground. "Well, hello, Miss Hannigan. We meet again. Just can't get enough of me, can you?" He looked at her with a cold smile, pasted on over a foundation of bitter resentment. "It was very impolite of you to leave without saying goodbye the last time we met. But now we'll get to make up for everything you missed out on back then. Welcome back!"

When she didn't answer, he looked up at Hannigan. "Well, let's get her inside. We have a lot to talk about."

.-.-.-.

As the afternoon ticked on, Severus had fetched a pile of his marking in an attempt to find something useful to do, but the third years' thoughts on the uses of Datura sap seemed to hold even less interest than usual. After a twitchy half an hour, he threw down the quill in frustration and got up.

"Some more tea?" Minerva asked him from where she was sitting behind her massive desk. She and Remus were going over the ledgers they had been discussing when they had been interrupted by Severus just a few hours earlier. Filius sat perched on one of her straight-backed chairs, quietly sipping his tea and keeping on eye on the Potions master.

Shaking his head irritably, Severus walked over to the window with staccato steps and stared out over the lake.

"Come sit down." Filius said, patting the seat of the empty chair next to him. "Try to relax a little."

"I can't." The words came out strangled as he resumed pacing, back and forth, from the door to the window.

Concern on her face, Minerva watched him as he moved restlessly. He had never been a man to wear his heart on his sleeve - one reason, she supposed, why she had written off the rumors among the staff about his relationship with Hannah as nothing more than the gossip-mongering of people with nothing better to do. She had noticed with dry amusement the looks that the Compositions mistress had thrown in his direction, but Severus had seemed so distant, almost cold, to her in public that the announcement of their engagement had caught her quite off guard. Afterwards, she had always supposed the attachment between the two to be mainly on Hannah's side. Even when he had stormed off to the Ministry, she had half suspected it to be damaged pride more than anything deeper. She knew quite well the temper he developed when someone messed with those he considered his. But somewhere over the last few hours, she had changed her mind about the depth of his involvement. There was something about the bleakness in his eyes that made her stomach clench.

To be reduced to waiting, to doing nothing, at the mercy of whoever had her - it was, she thought, his own personal kind of hell.

It was going on dinner time, and there hadn't been any kind of news. She shuddered. There might never be any news. Hannigan had the connections to make someone disappear without a trace if he chose to do so. The thought chilled her to the core.

For a moment it was quiet - and she could hear the soft hoot of an owl outside of her window. Snape stopped dead in his tracks as McGonagall walked across the room. Just a moment, and she had unlatched the window and pushed it open. The owl hopped onto the window sill, a small package tied to its right leg. It hooted again as McGonagall carefully untied the box.

"Severus?" She placed the package on the desk gingerly. "It's addressed to you. No return address." She put her hand across his as he reached to open it. "Wait. Let me." With some careful wand work, she removed the outside wrapper. A scrap of parchment was stuck to a small bundle of burlap. Minerva looked at Severus. "Do you mind if we read it?"

"No. Just get on with it." His voice was rough. With another wave of her wand, she detached the scrap of parchment, and it gently floated, face up, onto the desk. Remus and Filius leaned in to see, anxiety written on their faces.

To Severus Snape:

Inside the package is a Portkey. I think you will recognize the item.

You have two minutes after you read this message before the Portkey will become inactive. Come, and come alone, or you will never see Hannah alive again.

Peter Pettigrew

"Pettigrew?" Flitwick's voice was squeaky in consternation. "I thought you were certain Frank has her?"

Minerva looked equally taken aback. "I thought so...oh Lord. Could it be that the note is a fake? That Hannigan just wants us to think it's Pettigrew who has her?"

"It does look like Peter's handwriting," Lupin said. "I would tend to think it's genuine."

Severus did not appear to be listening.

He had recognized the owl. When he had gone back to take care of his father's estate, he had simply assumed the bird had flown off after being neglected for weeks. But here it was - the same bird that had brought him the message from his mother, that night so long ago in his office. Apparently, it had found a new master.

He reached over and tugged at one end of the burlap package, and as the fabric unwound, something small and glittering, golden and green, fell out and rolled across the tabletop before coming to a rest against the hard surface, still rocking slightly. Hannah's engagement ring.

His teeth clenched tightly as he stared at it. The rational part of his mind told him that nothing could be gained by going, that he would be doing exactly what Pettigrew wanted. That he would be risking his life only to provide Wormtail with two victims instead of one. Yet, another, equally rational part told him that if he didn't go and they found her body tomorrow, dumped somewhere outside Hogwarts' main gate, killed because of his inaction, he would not be able to live with that fact. She was a captive now because of him, because she had put herself between him and the Dementor's Kiss. If she died...

Slowly, he backed several feet away from the table, away from his colleagues, who were still debating the identity of the author of the note.

Minerva turned around right then. "Severus, do you think that..." There was something about the expression on his face that made her push her chair back sharply and get to her feet in alarm. "You can't mean to go, Severus," she said shrilly, "It's just what he..." but it was too late.

"Accio ring," he whispered, and immediately the ring flew into his outstretched hand. A split second later, he was gone.