Perfection

Perfection

Chapter 23: When the Lifespray Cools

"I don't understand what this is doing," Neville sighed, opening his eyes and rubbing them in frustration. "I can find the plants fine--they're all there--but what am I going to do? Talk to them?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Of course not. But is there some way that you can tell what's going on?"

"They're trees, Liv," he said with exaggerated patience. "They don't have eyes."

"It'll work," she insisted. "Just try again. You'll see what I mean."

And, because there were very few other options and a small part of him was hoping that Liv knew what she was talking about, Neville shut his eyes and reached out for the roots of the plants growing somewhere above him. This time, though, he didn't head straight for the Whomping Willow or for the trees of the Forbidden Forest. This time, he slid into a blade of grass, gliding through the network of tangled roots until he had stretched himself far enough that he had hit what he assumed were the outer walls of Hogwarts.

A strange sensation passed over him, making him feel as though many spines were curving and straightening simultaneously. After a moment, he realised that it meant someone had walked over him, a thought that made him shudder slightly. He shifted again, withdrawing from the plants and sending himself back into his body.

"I did it," he breathed, face flushed. "And I know what we can do."

"Are you serious?" Her eyes lit up under her dark fringe of hair and she giggled, perhaps a little hysterically.

*

Masses of people being herded back onto the train momentarily served as enough of a distraction to ward off the crushing panic that Hermione knew would descend onto her at any second. This was one of those moments that she had always known would come, had tried to mentally prepare herself for, yet somehow all it had been in vain. She told herself that concentrating on it would only make the situation worse, but nothing could draw her attention away from the alarming rate her heart was thumping at. Positive that any second it would explode into her chest, she deepened her breaths, but they, too, grew quick and shallow.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a boy huddled against one of the walls of the station, either too frightened or confused to move. This gave her a moment of clarity, where she was able to run to his side and drag him toward the doors of the train, but it was only a moment. Once it had passed, fear returned in full-force, making her head spin so hard that she nearly lost her balance.

"Hermione."

A steadying voice in her ear as someone caught her. She met Severus' dark gaze and flushed, feeling humiliated in the face of his calm state.

"I'm okay." A few deep gulps of air was all it took to steady herself.

An eyebrow arched in response and she tried to grin, failing miserable.

"Maybe not okay," she amended. "But I'll live."

Both of them paused for a moment, staring into the chaos before them as they pondered the likelihood of that coming to pass.

*

After what felt like hours of ushering, but in actuality was probably closer to minutes, Draco looked around at who was remaining outside of the train. Pushing hair drenched in sweat back so that it was no longer plastered to his forehead, he sighed heavily. Ginny was slamming a door shut with inhuman strength, ignoring the pleading face of a boy with dirt smudges on his cheeks who was standing just inside them while Hermione collapsed onto the steps leading to the platform biting her lip. Weasley sat down next to her awkwardly, placing what was probably meant to be a comforting had on her shoulder, but she stiffed and brushed it off, leaping to her feet almost instantly. Through it all, Snape looked on with deceptive impassivity, his firmness forming a sharp comparison with the bewildered stillness of Potter who was waiting for an order of some sort.

"Now what?" she asked, and Draco could almost feel her tension spreading through him.

"We need to get the train out of here," Ginny responded. "With or without us on it."

"It won't be able to leave." Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose, although it was difficult to read what this spelled. "There will be spells up around the town to prevent that."

"So we ward it," Hermione said flatly. "I don't care what it takes out of us; we aren't leaving defenceless children nicely packaged for the slaughter."

"Like we would, Granger," Draco found himself replying, surprised at what was coming out of his mouth. In this group, he was far from being one to look to for ethical advice.

"What about us?" Ron spoke up, looking as though he wished he hadn't been the one to offer the most self-serving comment. "Are we going in there too?"

"All of us have taken some of the Golden Shield," Hermione said by way of response. "It won't protect us from physical harm, but they won't be able to use magic. That should buy us some time."

"Time to do what, exactly?" Ginny snapped. "If we can't leave Hogsmeade, what good will being outside of the train do?"

"We need to get outside help." The other girl seemed unfazed--an unshakable calm seemed to have descended over her that reminded Draco of her response to the attack on Snape months before. "The only way we can do that is to send a message... Unless I'm mistaken, nothing that they do can alter the wards on Hogwarts, which means that we should be able to contact them there."

"You're bloody mental," Draco shot out, almost against his will. "Fifty galleons says that they've already taken over the castle and no one is going in or out of it. We'd be signing our own death warrants."

A silence descended over the group for a brief moment, broken only when Snape's dark gaze met Draco's cool, grey one with an intensity that made him shiver. "I think," he replied slowly, speaking words that everyone knew the truth of, "that our death warrants are already signed, sealed, and perilously close to delivery. If we wait for the Ministry or the Order to notice that an entire wizarding town in Scotland has mysteriously plunged off of the map, we'll be rotting before they take action."

"You're honestly saying that waltzing right into the stronghold of people who really want to kill us is going to be what could save our lives?" he snorted in one last attempt at incredulity, but stopped at the sight of four determined faces staring back at him.

"We'll wait until nightfall, then?" Hermione asked.

*

Hugging his knees to his chest as he sat on the window seat, Charlie stared out into the darkened sky. Night was still falling early and faint speckles of stars were already sprayed across it. From down the hall, the murmuring of his parents arguing was just barely audible, taking him back several years, to a time when things had been far more certain.

A piece of him longed for that time, but it was only a piece--the sureness of his childhood had been more smothering than anything. His mother was, once again, trying to convince him to come home, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Every time he considered the notion, he could feel that same horrid blanket of security descending upon him. Suppressing him.

It wasn't his family's fault, he acknowledged. In many ways it was his, for allowing these expectations to build, making it more and more difficult to tear them down in subsequent years. No matter how outgoing, good-looking, clever--how ready--he had appeared to be upon his graduation, most of his education had taken place in the near-decade since.

Outside, the light of the stars was outweighing that of the sunset more dramatically, but he wasn't paying any particular attention any longer. Restless, he stood and made his way out, into the hall.

*

"Can you at least tell how many there are up there?"

Neville shook his head, once again finding that his frustration was reaching a new high. "As long as they're moving, it's impossible for me to keep count. I think I lost track at around thirty."

Liv swore colourfully, giving him a brief moment of amusement before he grew grave. "It was a good idea," he shrugged, "but it didn't work. It won't work, no matter how much we try to tweak it."

"In the last few days haven't I taught you anything about the power of positive thought?" she snapped, only half-joking.

"Yes. You taught me that it's a load of bollocks."

In the stricken silence that followed, Neville tried to figure out just how seriously that remark had been meant.

"Well, pardon me," she retorted sulkily, eyes narrowing glitteringly. "I guess I won't try to help you anymore, then."

The boy found himself blinking in shock. "Help me? Is that what you were trying to do? Funny, I don't remember the idea of me being helped ever coming up in our conversation. This whole thing has been about saving your bloody sanity from the awful depths of helplessness. If anyone was doing the helping, it was me--for Merlin's sake, you had me trying to communicate with blades of grass!"

"I was trying to find a way to keep everyone down here alive--if that isn't helping, I don't know what is." Her shoulders had hunched up nearly to her ears in self-defence, but her expression was furious.

"No," Neville said flatly. "You're not. You want to feel like you're doing something, so you've invented some mad idea that you can get us out of here, but you can't. I can't. If even Dumbledore can't, then there isn't a point in even trying."

For a moment, rage seemed to be building behind her mouth, which was tightly pursed closed and Neville found himself dreading the explosion.

It never came.

Instead, there was a searing pain across his cheek as her hand lashed across it.

"Ouch!"

"Don't say that you didn't deserve that."

"I won't," he grimaced. "But I have a strange feeling that this bruise is going to outlive me."

"You really think that we won't survive?" The anger was fading from her tone, although he could still hear an element of the sceptical in it.

He nodded as the tightness around her mouth stretched into a weak grin.

"Damn," she swore softly. "I knew that I should have been concentrating on losing my virginity rather than escaping."

Heat flooded Neville's face as he suddenly found himself fascinated by a crack in the floor.

Liv giggled at his embarrassment. "You're really quite adorable when you blush, you know that?" she teased. "A right English rose."

"Oh, shut up."

*

That Severus felt slightly awkward being the only person in the group over the age of eighteen was an understatement. When he was with Hermione, it was different--for a variety of reasons, he had stopped viewing her as being as young as those that were the same age. Now, though, he was beginning to understand Molly's 'cradle robber' comments with a disturbing clarity.

However, when he glanced back at the group that was leaning against the platform with him, he realised that at that age he had no longer considered himself a child. That sudden and haunting revelation that they were staring death in the eye had completed the awkward transition to adulthood sometime in the last three hours and it pained him to bear witness.

Hermione moved to sit closer to him and tucked her hand into his, offering a small smile. "I guess this came sooner than we thought."

He nodded. "It did."

"Are you all right with our plan? I realise that you probably know way more about this than anyone else and I had no business jumping in like that and taking over."

"Hermione, I feel that it's far better you took control. In this situation, my instinct is to retreat but, as you so cleverly pointed out to me, there is nowhere to retreat to."

"You could have figured that one out on your own," she muttered. "Don't make out what I said to be more than it was."

"I'm not trying to be patronizing," he responded sharply.

"Try harder," she barked, then immediately looked ashamed. "I'm sorry... I'm just on edge. I hate this waiting."

"Everyone is."

"Except Harry," came her reply. Severus glanced up at the boy who was sitting blankly, not moving as Hermione continued, "I almost envy that. A state where nothing matters because you aren't really there."

"Do you really?"

Hermione bit her lip, pondering the question seriously for a moment before saying, "No. At one point, I think that I would have, but not now. I could die at any second and that scares the hell out of me, but until that point comes I want to live and know that I'm living."

And in a few short sentences, Severus was reminded of why he had been able to forget her age so readily. Almost unwittingly, his hand brushed her arm, making her turn and touch his cheek lightly with her lips. They were silent for the next few moments, letting all the spoken and unspoken things hover between them until that was broken by him taking her hand.

"It's time."

What remaining colour that she had dropped from her face, but otherwise she didn't flinch as she stood up, signalling to Ginny and Draco to do likewise. Harry followed suit a moment later and they all followed as Severus lead the way out of the train station, a black shadow that was barely visible beneath streetlights that had not been lit.

*

"So, tomorrow, then?" Remus asked, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Agrippa nodded. "Tomorrow it will have been a year."

They stared at the unopened bottle of rum between them, neither wanting to make the first move toward it.

"I was almost married once," he remarked, startling her. Even though she knew that he trusted her, his personal confessions tended only to happen once he was too drunk to feel self-conscious. "I'm kind of glad it didn't work out..."

"What happened?"

"It was this girl that Sirius set me up with... You know, him. I originally only dated her to make him happy, which in retrospect really makes no sense given the circumstances."

She chuckled in agreement.

"She was nice and pretty and we got along well... She didn't care about any of the wolf shit, said that it was nice that she could have a man who understood 'monthly issues.'"

"What was her name?" Agrippa asked curiously.

"Jaclyn. She was a lot like you, actually."

"So, bitter and irritating, then?"

Remus laughed, "A bit, yes. She was very much her own person and I admired that aspect of her. I probably admired her a bit too much, actually."

"Were you in love with her, though?"

A moment's pause as Agrippa's curiosity soared.

"No. I wasn't in love with her--I wanted to be. But she was always more of a good friend and I think that we both knew it... She certainly didn't seem surprised when I ended our engagement and she was the first person who I told... you know, that, to."

"What happened to her? I mean, did she just fall off the face of the earth once she knew?"

He shook his head. "We stayed friends until... She died in the last war. She was an assistant in the foreign affairs department and there was a raid on the Ministry. Everyone was supposed to evacuate, but she chose to stay in order to destroy government records."

"Your life is one giant tragedy, you know that?" Agrippa remarked. "I mean, until I met you, I thought mine was pretty sad but this is like comparing daytime television to Shakespeare... You do know who Shakespeare was, right?"

He grinned. "I do know that much."

"There is hope for you yet."

Both of them broke into giggles, although neither was completely sure why, but were abruptly silenced by the clearing of a throat in the doorway.

"Is there enough for one more?"

Charlie stepped in, sitting in an empty armchair.

"Sorry. I realise that I'm probably like the annoying kid that just can't take a hint..."

"No, not at all," Remus replied, although Agrippa could see him beginning to close off slightly.

"We like you," she added. "Sort of. And anyway, at the rate we're going, you can probably just have the entire bottle."

"I don't think even that would put me to sleep right now," he remarked, "but I'm happy to try."

"Lovely," Agrippa said. "But, if you're actually going to open it, I might as well have a bit."

"Don't give her too much," Remus cautioned. "It gets frightening... And give me some."

They were all about to take a sip, but Agrippa help up a hand in protest, smirking slightly. "Wait! Before our friend here has any he has to tell a secret because the two of us will be spilling our guts out after about twenty seconds."

Remus raised his eyebrows and looked at the other man expectantly. Charlie cringed.

"Er... I hate carrots?" he tried.

"You told me that one already."

Agrippa's ears perked up, and the smirk became conniving.

"Okay... How about... My mother thinks that I'm moving to Ireland soon, but I'm actually thinking about refusing the offer and going to Mongolia instead."

"That's passable," Remus said.

Agrippa nodded. "Okay, drink. But then you have to tell why."

"And suddenly I feel like I'm at a slumber party with a group of teenage girls," Charlie muttered, eyeing his glass before shooting it back.

"Several people have remarked on the resemblance," Agrippa responded, coughing. "In fact, Remus likes to spend his weekends in heels and red lipstick. Recently, I introduced him to a new line of eyeliner..."

He barked out a laugh and, almost automatically, responded, "Just because I like men, doesn't mean..." then trailed off into a horrified silence, dropping his glass.

Agrippa shot a glance at Charlie, trying to gauge his reaction, but the redhead didn't appear to be anything more than mildly surprised.

"Shit," Remus swore. "I can't believe..." He closed his eyes for a moment and Agrippa leaned over to squeeze his hand.

"It's okay," Charlie announced. "If that's what you're worried about, I don't care. And I won't tell anyone, if you don't want me to. I'm--"

He began to laugh softly, with an undertone of hysteria. "Tell anyone you want."

"I'm sorry," Agrippa murmured. "I wasn't trying..."

He laughed harder. "I know you weren't. I'm not angry, just... I said it. I actually said it. And I'm glad that I did." Overcome by hysteria, he slid off of the chair and onto the floor, where he curled up, shaking with giggles. "I'm gay. I'm fucking gay."

"Is he going to be okay?" Charlie asked, blue eyes wide with worry. "I'm almost tempted to think that he's already drunk."

She nodded. "I he will--he just surprised himself there."

"I'd say. Maybe he should go to sleep or something before he wakes up the entire house?"

Agrippa laughed dryly. "I don't think he's going to be walking anywhere for a while."

"No problem," Charlie replied. "I'll get him there."

She looked sharply at him, failing to suppress a grin. He responded with a confused expression.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Pulling out his wand, he aimed it at Remus and muttered, "Mobilicorpus."

It was with a sigh that Agrippa realised his intent had never been to carry the other man up the stairs.

*

"Worst decision you've ever made?" Liv was sitting cross-legged, picking at the soles of her feet--her shoes had been abandoned several metres away hours prior.

"Listening to you," Neville replied, making a face. "Or possibly agreeing to play this stupid game."

"Don't say it doesn't kill time."

He laughed dryly. "Oh, it kills it all right. In a slow, agonizing way. Did I mention that I hate torture more than anything?"

"Several times now. If you have a better idea, by all means tell me now."

"You know that I don't."

Liv smiled triumphantly. "I know that you don't."

He sighed, barely suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Fine. What's your worst mistake?"

"Not being compassionate enough. I'm a complete bitch when I want to be."

"I've noticed. One thing that you've always wanted but will never get."

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Peace of mind, I suppose. You?"

He studied his hands, not trusting himself to look up. "A real conversation with my parents. Not those hospital conversations where I just talk and know that they aren't hearing a word I'm saying, you know? I want to be able to ask them questions or get in a shouting match or just go home at holidays and know that I'll get the opportunity to be sick of them."

She nodded. "That makes sense."

"I guess it's the idea of unconditional love, really," he continued, staring blankly down. "My Gran--she tries, but it isn't really the same."

"Nothing ever is." Her eyes wide with something that was too real to be pity, she leaned over and touched her lips to his. "It's okay though. Somehow, I think things always are."

*

It hadn't taken long before capture had taken place. Both Hermione and Ron, in the process of planning, hadn't overlooked the fact that Pettigrew would most likely have informed Voldemort of the tunnels leading in and out of Hogwarts, but since it seemed slightly less risky than bounding through the front gates, everyone had opted for it anyway. Once again, Hermione had reminded them of the Golden Shield as a first line of defence--it wouldn't protect them from physically-induced harm, but the time that it took for anyone in their way to realise that would be enough to react to the situation. This hadn't prevented them from being taken prisoner when they had reached the other end of the passageway. The bottles of potion that Percy had stolen from their stores had apparently been distributed through the ranks, leaving them with no magical advantage to speak of.

And so Ginny found herself face to face with Voldemort for the second time in less than six months. This time, though, he was sitting on a makeshift dais where the staff table had once been in the Great Hall, both more comfortable and more furious than he had been during their last meeting. But this time, Ginny found herself less afraid than she had been previously--the heat coursing through her veins was enough to scald her as the wolf prepared to pounce at any second. She focused the majority of her energy on keeping the other side of her in check, but one tiny corner of her mind was still devoted to controlling Harry, a tiny corner that prayed it wouldn't slip up.

*

"Albus, there must be something--"

"I think that we've been over this enough times in the last few days. There is no possible way we can evacuate. The tunnels aren't anything more than a labyrinth without any particular end point. If need be, we can retreat further inwards, but aside from that there is nowhere else to go."

The voices grew gradually louder and clearer as Percy came to. Shaking his head to clear it, he wondered what had happened and why he was sleeping in the presence of Dumbledore and McGonagall, trying to recall what recent catastrophe had befallen the school. With this attempt came the realisation that he had graduated a few years prior and had been instrumental in bringing about this particular catastrophe.

There were more than the faint stabbings of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Still, the fact that he wasn't dead yet bode well for his hopes of continuing to live. He didn't seem to be in Azkaban either, something that he noted with sharp relief. Maybe there were more memories that he was still in the process of recalling, in which he had performed some sort of heroic deed that had cleared his name.

Expectantly, he waited for them to arrive, but they never came. Instead, there were vague images of people sliding in and out of darkness--Ron, Ginny, his mother, Professor Snape... The last one confused him slightly, until he recalled vile liquids being forced down his throat.

Ah, so they had drugged him. Fair enough, given the circumstances. He wondered if they had planned on allowing him to awaken or if unforeseen circumstances had allowed it to happen. A gasp and an exclamation as someone noticed that his eyes were open gave him his answer and, with a sigh, he resigned himself to whatever fate was about to send in his direction.

*

Fumbling in the dark. Jeans being awkwardly removed, bits of faint light reflecting off of strands of hair, some sharp, pained gasping accompanied by the occasional blind grope. Neville couldn't help but feel that he was experiencing the living, breathing definition of teenage sex.

But, in that spinning, jumbled space of time, how good it was be living and breathing.

The dim light that found its way through the passageway was enough to allow him to see Liv's face, scrunched up--whether it was in pain or gratification, he couldn't tell. As time wore on, he found it difficult to care. This might be the one chance that he had to experience of blasting off not, quite literally, by his own hand and a part of him had decided to take full advantage of it.

And he did.

Several minutes later found him lying on the clammy stone floor, watching Liv pull her shirt back over her head. She shook her head to make her hair fall properly and he vaguely wondered how hair as black as hers could seem to hold more light than anything else nearby.

She grinned, misinterpreting the meaning of his stare. "You'll have to give me a couple of minutes before we try that again. I'm a bit sore."

He flushed, glancing away. "That's not what--"

"Neville, it doesn't matter. I'm just teasing you. And this doesn't change anything, really. Remember I said that this isn't about love--it's about getting off properly at least once in our lives."

Her eyes were sparkling with a dark, sad sort of humour when he looked back at her, nodding. She was right--it wasn't about love. He wasn't in love with her and she most certainly wasn't in love with him. He liked her, but was smart enough to realise that it wasn't the same thing.

However, he did disagree with her on one point. Things were different now. Walls that had existed previously within his mind were rapidly crumbling, leaving him in unfamiliar terrain. And for some odd reason, he realised that he just had found something worth living for--a thought that made him suddenly ready to face down death.

"Are you okay?" Liv's eyes glittered at him in concern and he nodded.

"Yeah. I think I just need to be alone for a while."

"Fair enough. I'm going to try and get some sleep. Wake me up if you want company."

*

As Agrippa pulled Remus' blankets up around his chin, he caught her wrist, looking as intensely at her as possible with half-closed eyes. She was oddly reminded of tucking her daughter in at night, back when Hermione had been small enough to still want such things, and felt a brief stab of grief in her lower abdomen.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, not wanting to make noise, which was ridiculous since he had made enough noise in the last hour to wake up an entire country of people who had overdosed on sleeping pills.

He nodded. "I just want to say thanks."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Being there. Understanding--or at least trying to. Putting up with me."

With a sigh, she sank down onto the floor next to the bed; her mothering instinct was telling her that he wanted to talk for a bit. "Don't be silly. It's what any decent human being would do."

He laughed softly. "Then there aren't too many decent human beings in the world."

Rotating her head so that she could see him, she replied, "Maybe so. But if people are worth your while, they won't think less of you for who you are. Nothing can change what you have done up to this point in your life, and there are a lot of people that respect you for those things. I probably don't know the half of it, but if they truly care about you, gay or straight or werewolf or whatever else you could possibly be shouldn't change that. When I look at a person, I see a person first. Everything else is second to that. The kid whose head I'm drilling a hole into is a person, my daughter is a person, the woman that my ex-husband cheated on me with is a person. My ex-husband himself, I'm not too sure about some days, but he doesn't count..."

Some of the heaviness in his eyes dissipated and, for once, he looked hopeful. "But how do I tell people? Just run up to them, say, 'By the way, I'm gay!' and run away? Aside from the fact that that's similar to what I did tonight, it just seems ridiculous."

"You don't have to do it that way. It doesn't have to be a huge deal--just if the moment is right, say it. You managed to tell me easily enough."

"I was pissed out of my mind at the time," he snorted. "I distinctly remember you being in a similar state so I was hoping that you wouldn't remember in the morning."

Agrippa smiled. "That is true."

"It just... Saying it was such a relief. It was like I was finally being honest with myself."

"And Charlie didn't care," she reminded him. "Maybe some people will, but I've already said that they aren't worth it. Make yourself happy first and worry about the rest of it later. And go to sleep because I'm tired," she added with a yawn.

He copied her, closing his eyes as she stood to go.

Before padding out into the hall, she nudged him with a fist, muttering, "And I can't believe that you didn't tell me you were engaged... Bastard!"

Drowsily, he retorted, "That doesn't change me as a person, does it?"

With a laugh, she left the room and shut the door behind her, finding herself face-to-face with Charlie Weasley, who was giving her one of the oddest looks she had received in her life.

"Did you want something?"

"Not really," he replied. "I was just waiting to make sure we wouldn't have to sedate him or something."

Agrippa giggled slightly. "No. I think he's fine now. Exhausted, but he's calmed down a bit. Are you up to finishing the rum downstairs? I could certainly use it."

*

Lined up in front of Voldemort, Severus felt the pounding of his heart lessen. There was nothing that he was facing now that he hadn't faced before. Nothing out of the ordinary. The Great Hall had been entirely emptied, with the exception of two obligatory Death Eaters who appeared to serve as bodyguards, although he knew that their purpose was more to keep the captives in than anything else.

"Severus." That high nasal whine of a voice reverberated throughout the room.

Out of habit, he almost replied, "My lord," but caught himself in time. He made no verbal response, only arched his eyebrows in question.

"You have disappointed me yet again--but I think this goes without saying."

Yet you feel the need... He let this thought hover above the rest in his mind, knowing that as he spoke, Voldemort was shuffling through. Occlumency just then was not nearly as important as it had been in times past, but there were still certain things that he did not want to betray. Certain things that happened to be standing several feet to the right of him with bushy brown hair.

"Pity," the Dark Lord murmured. "I no longer seem to have any power over you. Fortunately, I know of someone who does."

Involuntarily, he felt himself stiffen. Had he gone deep enough to know exactly his thoughts and feelings regarding Hermione? He hadn't needed to bury his thoughts for months, but had always assumed that it was one of those skills that you didn't lose. Panic was returning in full force, although he kept it well hidden.

Before he had time to reflect on this further, however, a door behind them opened and he swung around in time to see a familiar figure waltz in.

"Mother," he snarled, barely able to contain his instantaneous reaction to leap forward and strangle her--something he now wished with even more fervour that he had done years before.

"Good evening, Severus," she greeted him, almost cheerfully. "We certainly seem to be running into each other quite frequently of late."

"Pity," he responded, eyes narrowed. "I quite liked the arrangement of having no contact whatsoever."

"I am rather inclined to agree. However, Fate's hand is her own and she'll do what she likes with it."

"This has less to do with fate than you meddling in my life."

She laughed, somewhat coldly. "You seem to be wrapped up in something larger than the trifles that I am accustomed to meddling with."

"Helena," Voldemort greeted her, almost jovially, "come see the specimens that I have captured. You may take one of them but must leave the dark-haired boy for me. He and I have unfinished business to attend to."

"Very well, Tom."

Her tone was indulgent as she moved down the line, pausing as she examined each of them. Only a moment was spent on Draco, but nearly twenty minutes passed in silence as she stared down Ginny. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus silently applauded the redhead's ability to keep eye contact without flinching. However, Helena seemed to decide that something was lacking and moved on to Harry. Here there seemed to be an even greater interest, as she placed her finger under his chin and tilted his head up.

"I told you--any but him." Any trace of cheer vanished from the Dark Lord's tone, which seemed to bring an icy cold over the room.

Helena barely appeared fazed. With an acquiescent nod she moved on, completely ignoring her son and stopping in front of Hermione. Almost instantly, she nodded.

"Her," she announced. "I want this one."

Severus didn't know whether to feel relief or fear. She wouldn't be at the mercy of a man who had traded in his humanity, but he wasn't entirely sure what deal his mother had struck and he had seen her ruthless side at play far too many times. Hermione, to her credit, didn't flinch or even glance over. Almost complacently, she followed behind the older witch out of the room and into the hall.

Severus had to force his eyes away from the closed door, knowing that if they lingered too long his one final secret would be revealed.

*

Once in the corridor, Hermione turned to Helena and slapped her across the face with everything that she could muster.

"I defended you," she hissed. "Maybe I should listen to Severus when he tells me things--he warned me not to trust you."

There was no response. Instead, Hermione found herself being held by the wrist and dragged away, up several flights of stairs into an empty, unused classroom that looked as though it was set up as an office.

"Attached are your quarters," Helena said impassively, gesturing towards a door in the corner. "For the duration of your apprenticeship, you will stay in them. Until we are better set up, I will be in here with a cot."

"Apprenticeship?" She was too shocked to be angry. "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Riddle downstairs has given me leave to apprentice one person of my choice in various fields of experimental magic. It is what we would have done, had this not interrupted my plans but in a slightly more restricted environment."

"In exchange for what?" Hermione closed her eyes, counting to ten. It seemed that, in agreeing to the previous proposal, she had made this situation unavoidable.

"Any findings that we come across are to be handed over to him."

Her stomach began to churn and she was torn between the need to vomit and the need to rip Helena's hair out.

"I won't do it." At least her voice remained calm, belying the shaking of her hands. "I would rather die."

There was no response to this statement, only, "In your quarters you will find a bed, a lavatory, and a fireplace. Make what use of them that you can."

Helena covered the distance between them, pressing a bag into her hands. Before any more could be said, Hermione fled, only looking at its contents once she was safely in her room.

Floo Powder.

Hermione found herself able to only do one thing--laugh.

*

"So how long have you known?"

Charlie had procured a bottle of wine and the whiskey was sitting, forgotten, on the coffee table.

Agrippa pushed her hair out of her eyes with a sigh. "A few months, I suppose. I've been here since the end of last July and I don't exactly remember when we started talking--sometime after that." She laughed and added, "We were both bloody miserable and ended up getting drunk by accident and he just spilled it out. It was like he couldn't wait to get it out."

Charlie grinned. "So it's a relationship based around alcohol, then?"

"More or less. Although we get along fine even when we aren't drinking. I guess the fact that I didn't pass the message on made him trust me."

"I've always wondered about him," the redhead remarked. "Not that it changes anything--I was just curious. He's always been around the family, you know? Not in the sense that he comes for dinner three nights a week, but in the sense that we all knew and respected him... After a while you start to pick up on certain things."

She nodded. "Well, he is easy to respect."

"He's already got a lot of stigma following him around, you know," Charlie continued. "The werewolf thing--like he can help that."

"If he could, he would," Agrippa remarked softly, feeling a jolt of pain in her chest for her friend who was sleeping upstairs, "but he shouldn't have to."

They observed a moment of silence, staring deeply into their glasses, before Charlie burst out, "I hate this place. All I want to do is get the fuck away, but something keeps dragging me back and I can't help it."

"This house?"

"No. This entire bloody society. We're so backwards that it's painful. In Romania--where I am most of the time--they aren't exactly forward thinking, but nobody is trying to be proper all of the time. As long as you aren't stupid enough to get eaten by a dragon, you're accepted."

She was about to open her mouth to reply, when they were interrupted by a coughing from the fireplace. Agrippa screamed and leapt away, while Charlie rushed to calm her.

"It's just me, Mum," said Hermione's head that was visible in among the flames.

"But... the fire..."

"Don't worry. I'm okay. Charlie, can you come over here for a minute? I--we--need help."

He knelt in front of the fireplace, concern etching lines in his face. "All right. Go ahead."

"Hogwarts has been invaded. We pretty much pranced right into a huge trap--right now You-Know-Who has got Severus, Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Harry. I managed to get away, but I haven't got a lot of time. Hogsmeade is gone as well--the population is being subdued by the Imperius Curse--but we managed to get the rest of the students onto the train and ward it. They're being looked after by the staff. I don't know what happened to the people who stayed at the school for holidays, but I'm guessing it isn't good..."

"And the Ministry has no idea?" He snorted in disbelief as Agrippa looked on horrified.

"You mean, you're a prisoner?"

"Mum, not now. That isn't important. Charlie, how quickly do you think you can assemble the Order?"

As her daughter continued talking in a quiet, controlled voice to Charlie about technicalities, Agrippa found herself backing away, out of the room, terrified. Turning, she sprinted back up the stairs to the only person in the house that she knew well enough to turn to.

Bursting into his room, she gasped, "Remus! Get up!"

He opened his eyes, looking around in bewilderment. "What's going... Agrippa? What's wrong?"

Somehow, in between hysterical sobs, she managed to give the man a good enough idea of what had happened to send him bolting down the stairs. She followed behind, a little more slowly, and entered in time to find him, Charlie, and Hermione in a heated discussion. Remus turned to her and gestured her over, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"It's all right," he whispered as she wiped her eyes on his shoulder. "Just stay calm and don't worry. Charlie," he added, "go wake up your parents--they'll be able to contact everyone else--and then, once they're all assembled, we can plan further."

"What should I do?" Hermione asked, her voice breaking slightly.

"Whatever you have to," came the cool reply. "We'll be there are quickly as humanly possible."

*

It had been remarkably easy to avoid sight as he made his way out of the tunnels and onto the stairway that led down into them. Not daring to light anything, he felt his way up in the dark, keeping a hand pressed to the clammy wall as he did so in order to keep his balance. He wasn't sure how long he climbed for, but an almost feverish need to reach the top drove him onwards until he walked headlong into a barrier. As he stumbled backwards, a feeling of certain death gripped him--there was no way for him to survive the fall.

Before oblivion reached him, however, hands steadied him from behind.

"Relax," a familiar voice whispered in his ears. "It's just me."

"Liv?" His tone was equal parts annoyed and relieved. "What are you doing?"

She made an amused sound in the back of her throat. "How stupid do you think I am? Like I'd let you go up alone."

*

Ginny's heart pounded and her head screamed with agony. The link of the Imperius Curse between her and Harry was fading more and more, it's resonance fading in and out. Voldemort was speaking to Harry now, expecting an answer, and her mind was blank.

Snappy response, she thought desperately.

"Fuck off, bitch," was the best that she could come up with.

Wincing inwardly, she waited for the retaliation that would follow. Oddly enough, Voldemort only laughed, making her wish that he had reacted violently--it was possibly the most horrible sound that she had ever heard. Of course, the laughter meant that he might be buying it.

Still staring directly at Harry, he said, "Ginevra Weasley, you are amusing."

Shit.

"Well," she responded nonchalantly, "I do my best."

She could feel something shuffling through her mind and did her best to keep it blank.

"If you're looking for hot lesbian make-out sessions, try a Ravenclaw." She knew that she probably wasn't helping the situation, but she was determined to get whatever grim amusement that she could out of this. "But then again, you know my preferences--you've already read my diary."

With a snarl, he shoved deeper into her thoughts, nearing the unconscious. Out of nowhere, the wolf part of her reared up, hackles raised, snarling. She felt him flee her mind as her other part lunged. Pouring all of her energy into remaining human, she released the last ties of the Imperius Curse, not bothering to look over at Harry as she did so. She didn't think she could handle the slackened, empty look that she knew was there.

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, Voldemort rounded on her with glee that was more frightening than mirthful. Addressing her in her mind, he hissed, My, aren't we a naughty one?

Rolling her eyes at him, she refused to respond.

That one-night stand with young Mr Potter--what would he have to say about that? Or would he even remember if I asked him? And does little Malfoy even know about it?

She gasped in horror.

You think that you can hide these things, Ginevra? Especially from me, who has known all of your secrets? Clearly I overestimated you...

Yes, she thought back, clearly you did.

I would still be willing to have you, he continued, in spite of all of this. You really are quite powerful--you would be free to explore that here. If you ever wanted...

Rather than attempt to respond, or even finish listening, she allowed all of the pressure that had built up within her to be released, triggering the fastest change she had ever made. The wolf leapt out of the place where the girl had been standing, shedding clothes and saliva in her mad rush to rip out the man's throat.

*

In a dark corner, something was stirring. Waking up, perhaps. A voice was there, egging it on, calling it forward from the depths to which it had confined itself. The thing that was awakening couldn't seem to remember anything, not even its own consciousness before this time. The voice calling it--him, a sudden remembrance corrected--back seemed to be the only thing that there had ever been.

No. Remember yourself. Try.

And, into the blackness, came a sudden tumbling of memory that filled him and made him long for that one-time void to be emptied.