Ten Minutes to Midnight

Chapter Five

She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave.

-Walter Pater

Essie Wainwright sighed and turned over in her sleep, only to be awoken by a sharp pain in her side. With a wince, she opened her eyes to inspect the source of her discomfort and nearly screamed as she discovered it.

She lay sprawled on the wreckage of the sad little apothecary in Knockturn Alley where she worked, shards of glass embedded in her flesh and dark, crimson blood pooled around her slight body. A broken rafter, long since loosed from its place on the now-fallen ceiling, dug its jagged splinters into the soft flesh between her ribs and hip. Essie groaned and tried with all her might to push it away, to no avail.

Panic setting in, she glanced wildly around the smoking rubble of the room, hoping to find her boss, Mr. Cave, in a better state than she was. As soon as her eyes set on his bloody corpse across the room, a scream tore through her throat and she began to shove the rafter in her side away. Adrenaline came to her aid, allowing her to budge it just enough that she could stand.

She scrambled over to Mr. Cave and frantically checked for a pulse. Finding none, tears began to pour down Essie's cheeks as she screamed, repeatedly, for someone to help her. Smoke and dust filled her mouth each time she opened it.

Florean Fortescue was the first to hear her cries. He had been tirelessly working on the disaster site that was Diagon and Knockturn Alley since the attack the day before, and had almost given up all hope of finding any survivors in the section of Knockturn he'd been assigned to. At least his beloved ice cream shop in Diagon had come out of the attack unscathed. He turned his bleary eyes to the source of the shrieks, and began to sprint towards them.

He found the girl a few minutes later, sitting beside the bloodstained cadaver of an elderly man and hugging her legs to her chest as she cried into her knees. Florean's boots crunched the glass strewn across the floor, causing the girl to glance up. She took a minute to compose herself before she could speak.

"Who are you?" she asked, gulping and shuddering.

"I'm Florean. Florean Fortescue," he said, carefully making his way towards her. "The one who owns the ice cream parlour in Diagon. I'm here working with the clean-up crew."

The girl was silent for a moment as she watched him painstakingly cross the room. At length, she finally spoke again, her brown eyes now fixed on Mr. Cave's glassy blue ones. They looked so blank, so empty, that she could barely believe they were the ones that had sparkled playfully at her for the past eighteen years.

"He was my surrogate father," she said bleakly, "not just my boss. He loved me. I bet he died trying to save me. I can't remember."

Florean had reached her by then. He held out a dirty hand, and she took it with her own bloody one. He pulled her to her feet and began to lead her out of the ruined building.

"Do you remember anything?" He watched her worriedly with red-rimmed hazel eyes.

"No," she replied. "My head hurts a lot. I must have got hit with that rafter." She reached up and touched the crown of her head, and when she pulled her fingers away, they were sticky with blood. "Yep."

"Don't worry," Florean said, finding it hard to take his own advice. "We're headed to the mediwizards right now. Do you think you have the strength to Apparate?"

"Can't do magic."

"What?"

"I can't do magic. I'm a Squib. Well, except for Potions. Mr. Cave made sure I was good at those, and I am. Those are easy; you just follow a few directions and you're done. No wands or anything. I've never had a wand, you know. I borrowed Mama's once, but I couldn't get it to work for me."

Essie was rambling now, causing Florean to become even more worried. He pulled a bar of chocolate out of his robes and told Essie to eat it, then muttered a spell to bandage her wounds. She continued to talk, her mouth stuffed with the finest dark chocolate Honeydukes has to offer.

"Was there anyone else like me? A Knockturn Squib, I mean."

Florean furrowed his brow. "Yes, actually, I think there was. Meredith Conway was telling me about a Squib girl her friend rescued. A girl selling roses and fortunes . . ."

Essie grabbed his arm, her eyes suddenly frightened and wild. She had swallowed all the chocolate.

"Did she say her name? Was it Sophronia? Sophie?"

"I don't believe she gave a name," he replied.

"It has to be Sophie." She dropped his arm and sank to the ground right where they had been standing, which happened to be directly in front of a pet shop for dark creatures called The Black Menagerie. Squawks, growls, and whimpers from within the building nearly drowned out the sound of Essie's voice as she picked up a rock and flung it furiously, muttering obscenities.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned. "Fuck."

"Pardon me," Florean said, obviously flustered by the girl's choice of language, "but what is so special about this Sophie?"

Essie shook her head, ignoring him. "Oh, fuck. This is horrible."

"Yes, I'm quite sure it is, but we need to get you to the mediwizard tent so they can see to your wounds. Please stand up. Don't make me levitate you," he said, trying to sound dangerous, but it only sounded funny coming from a short, balding man in dirty square spectacles.

Essie looked up at him, shaking her head. "It's over," she croaked. "There's no reason to go."

* * *

Sophie awoke with a groan. She had kicked off her comforter during the night, bringing on violent shivers while she slept, and twenty-five years of sleeping on the floor with dozens of people made it hard to sleep alone, and on a high bed, no less. She sat up and rubbed her neck, trying to ease the pain that came with using three pillows when she was used to none. It was only dawn.

Careful not to wake Jack, who was sprawled on the armchair and fast asleep, Sophie slid out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. Her bare feet accidentally touched the cold tiles, sending a shock through her body. She shivered and moved to the rug.

She was wearing Jack's old flannel pyjamas, and they fit her no better than his other clothes had. The long sleeves covered her fingers, so she rolled them up to keep them out of her way. Her brown hair had been pulled into a very messy bun, but she noticed with satisfaction that it looked better than it ever had before. A good shampoo will do that to you, she thought wryly.

Jack had set out a clean towel, bar of soap, comb, and toothbrush for her. She briefly wondered where he had got them, but the thoughts were soon erased as the wonderful taste of toothpaste was introduced to her grimy mouth.

After she had finished cleaning herself off and used the bathroom, Sophie started her quest for a good breakfast. Despite Jack's loud snoring and the discomfort of the bed, she had slept fairly well, and felt better than she had in years.

I wonder how long that will last.

Dismissing the pessimistic thoughts from her head and clearing it of the prophecies fighting for her attention, she instead concentrated on looking for breakfast. Grabbing a few things that looked appetising, including some an ancient bowl of oatmeal and a half-empty carton of orange juice, she climbed onto the counter and began to eat.

"You're up early," a sleepy voice from across the room said.

Sophie glanced up at Jack. She was eating a banana. She attacked it like a wild animal, smearing pale mush across her face and hands.

"I always am," she replied, and banana juice dribbled down her chin. She wiped it away with her sleeve. "I hope you don't mind that I've helped myself to breakfast."

"Not at all," Jack said as he crossed the room to gaze out the window. "I wasn't planning on eating."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. You should never pass up a chance to have it. You never know when it won't be available to you anymore," she said, without the airs of someone who is scolding a stubborn child, and instead with those of someone who hasn't had a decent breakfast in years and doesn't understand those who haven't been through the same thing.

Jack looked up at her sadly. "You weren't treated very well in Knockturn, were you?"

Sophie swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal and shook her head. "No one ever mistreated me, unless you count a few of my customers who liked it on the rough side." She shuddered. "But there was never enough room to sleep or enough food to eat. When You-Know-Who was in power, it was so much worse."

Jack's eyes darkened, and he looked away.

"I'm sorry," Sophie murmured. "I didn't mean to mention him."

"It's all right," Jack said. "I know it's wrong to associate myself with him. I've never even met him. But whenever someone mentions something horrible he's done, I can't help but feel responsible for it. It's crazy, I know. He didn't even know I existed until a few weeks ago. We're not connected by anything but a little bit of blood . . ."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"Believe what?" He looked at her sharply.

"That you're only connected by blood. You're not. There's more of him in you than that. Probably more than I know about, actually. I just met you. But you can speak to snakes, can't you?" Jack nodded. "See? You have some of his abilities, maybe even some of his traits. But you're not like him. You used your abilities the right way."

Jack laughed hollowly. "And if he wanted to control me, he could. And he certainly wouldn't use those abilities the right way."

Sophie put down her empty bowl of oatmeal and slid across the counter to be closer to him.

"Look at me," she said. He obliged. "I know what it's like to be afraid, and your fear is perfectly rational, so I can't tell you not to be. But try not to think about it. If he finds you, he finds you. I don't know you that well, but I'm pretty sure you're strong enough to fight him, and there are lots of people out there who will be willing to fight with you."

He shook his head. "You don't understand, do you? No one, with the exception of Dumbledore, my boss, and now you, knows about me. And if they find out, they won't care who I am, only that I'm the son of the most hated wizard on this whole damn planet. They'll hate me without even knowing me. They'll see me as a threat, as a monster. Just like you did."

Sophie hung her head. "I didn't--"

"I know. I know you didn't think of it that way. But they hate him, and they'll hate me too, just for being connected to him, and I'm sure they'd be happy to see me die."

Sophie bit her lip, unsure of what to say. "I don't hate you," she whispered finally.

He flashed a crooked grin. "Thanks. That's very comforting."

She smiled. "It should be."

* * *

Meredith wiped her blonde hair off her sweaty forehead and rubbed the small of her back. It was only six a.m., but she'd already been working on clearing the rubble from Diagon Alley for two hours. The damage had been worse than she'd thought.

She glanced around at her fellow workers. Most worked with the Ministry or lived in or near Diagon Alley. To her surprise, even a few Hogwarts teachers had shown up, among them a very grumpy Severus Snape, an exhausted Rubeus Hagrid, and Headmaster Dumbledore, looking wearier than she'd even seen him before. Maristella Sinistra had just arrived, clutching a cup of coffee and looking half-dead, and Minerva McGonagall was talking softly to Tom, the innkeeper who worked at The Leaky Cauldron.

A few of her co-workers had shown up as well, including Mr. Croaker and Belarius Bode. Meredith noted with dismay that Christian hadn't turned up, but convinced herself that he was probably busy with the Squib girl.

The Squib girl. They had found a few more just like her, some alive, some dead. A small house filled with them, run by someone who called herself Mama, had been found just outside of Knockturn Alley. The Death Eaters had invaded and devastated them, claiming to be looking for a few in particular, Mama had told them. No one knew whom, but a handful of girls were missing.

Essie Wainwright. Sophronia Grey. Rose Williams. Doreen Vandemar. All gone, or just not found and identified yet. Meredith wondered which one was the girl Christian had saved.

A loud noise from her left startled her out of her thoughts, and she whirled around to see what had happened. A rafter from the ceiling of Madame Malian's robe shop had fallen, knocking out a window and damaging a wall. Meredith fought back the urge to cry. Why would the Death Eaters do this? And all for one man, it seemed.

"Conway." The voice was soft, like the rustling of wind through the trees, coming from behind her.

She turned to face the speaker, her lower lip trembling. It was Severus Snape, soot smeared across his pale, hooked nose. His face was blank.

"Hello, Severus," she said softly, unsure of how to react to him.

"It's been a while." His voice was less oily and self-assured than usual, lacking his typical malice. His dark eyes were dull, perhaps even sad.

"Yes, it has," she murmured. A wave of her wand repaired the glass on the front window of the shop she was working on restoring. Thankfully, this one had emerged from the attack nearly unscathed.

"Albus tells me that you were here during the beginning of the attack. You were the one who went to the law enforcement." She nodded, waiting for him to continue. He stepped closer to her; she could smell his sweat and foul breath. "You helped one of the Squib girls escape."

Meredith's concentration broke. She lowered her wand and glanced at him, one thin eyebrow raised. "Yes, I did. And no, I don't know her name, but I know where she is."

Snape then grabbed her forearm and dragged her through the open doorway of the shop, into its dark and dusty interior. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, he released her arm and straightened his grimy black robes.

"I know who the girl is," he told her, in a low, reluctant voice. "I went to one of the Death Eater gatherings a few weeks ago. They talked about a Squib girl who had the Sight, a girl named Sophronia Grey. Lucius Malfoy agreed to abduct her from Knockturn Alley and bring her to--"

"What? A Squib with the Sight? That's not possible, is it?" she asked, bewildered.

"Keep your voice down," Snape growled. "Yes, it's perfectly possible. I'm not going to take the time to explain to you exactly how, but I assure you that it is."

Meredith lowered her voice. "Why are you telling me this? Did you tell Albus?"

"Albus does not know that I attended the meeting, and I would like to keep it that way," he said.

"Yes, I thought he forbade you to go since your torture--"

"Yes, he did. Thank you for bringing that up. Now be quiet and listen to me. I am telling you, quite simply, because you know where I can find this girl."

Meredith bit her lip. "Why do you have to find her? I think Christian can take care of her for the moment. No one will think to find her at his house."

"Don't be naïve," Severus snapped. "You are not the only person who saw her disappear with him. The Death Eaters will find them soon enough, and both will be dead."

She bit her lip and looked away, a strand of messy hair falling out of her bun and into her eyes. She brushed it away impatiently, watching the clean-up crew outside levitate and attempt to repair the shattered sign that had nearly killed Jack little more than twelve hours ago. She sighed gustily, shoulders heaving.

"What do we do?" she said eventually.

"You will tell me where I can find these people, and then remain here and continue working I will find them, bring them to the safe house Dumbledore has assembled, and return here. There is no we."

Meredith abruptly turned her head to face him, looking fierce. "And what if I choose not to tell you where they are?"

"Then they will die, sooner or later," he said.

She glared at him, unwilling to go down without a struggle. "Let me come with you. I think Christian might put up a fight if I'm not there. He's been moved around so much, I don't think he'll ever agree to being moved again."

Severus gritted his teeth. "Fine. You may come with me. Now, where exactly where are we going?"

Meredith reached into her blouse. Severus stared.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She extracted a small slip of paper from inside her shirt and waved it in front of his face, grinning madly. "The bra is a very good place to hide things."

Severus shook his head and muttered something under his breath, which Meredith chose to ignore. Then she took his cold, clammy hand and read the address on the slip of paper aloud to him, careful to keep her voice low. He repeated it once and then nodded, indicating that he had it memorised. She smiled faintly back, and then, in unison, they Apparated.

They reappeared on the muddy steps of Jack's small, unassuming residence a moment later. It was an entirely unremarkable brownstone, two storeys, with a few dead rosebushes along the front porch. It stood alone, with only one other house within walking distance. All the shades were down.

"Likes his privacy, I see," Severus remarked.

Meredith shrugged. "His wife just died a few weeks ago. I don't think he knows many people around here. He moved from Ireland."

"You know quite a lot about him."

"Well, he's my partner at work. I've only known him for a few days, though." She reached out and rang the doorbell. "I hope they're awake."

They waited for a few moments, shivering in the early morning cold, before Sophie answered the door, Jack standing a few feet behind her. She looked radically different from how Meredith remembered her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and Jack moved beside her, clutching his wand in a white-knuckled grip. He relaxed when he recognised Meredith, but didn't smile.

"Hello, Christian. This is my friend Severus Snape. He's a teacher at Hogwarts," she said, indicating Severus with one hand. Scowling, he stepped forward and shook Jack's hand without speaking. "We're here because of her." Meredith's eyes darted to Sophie, who stiffened against Jack.

"What about her?" Jack asked, raising his own eyebrows.

"Well--"

Severus cut her off. "She has been targeted by the Death Eaters, and we are here to take her to a safe house so that her planned kidnapping can be prevented. Since we have reason to believe that the Death Eaters are also planning to murder you for your involvement with this, Christian, you must accompany us."

Sophie looked expectantly at Jack, whose expression was blank. "Come in," he said, his tone revealing nothing. Meredith and Severus stepped inside.

Jack closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed, while Sophie moved away from him and took a seat on the bottom step, watching the conversation from a few feet below the other three.

"I appreciate your efforts," Jack was saying, "but they won't know to find me here. She's safe with me, and I won't let her go unless she wants to."

"But they saw you go," Meredith protested. "They might even have pictures, and if they don't, they certainly have other ways to find you. They're Death Eaters. If they want to find you, they will."

"No, they won't," he insisted.

He shot Sophie a glance, and she wondered briefly if he was going to tell them exactly why they wouldn't find him. She considered getting up and telling them to go away before he blew his cover, but saw the look in his eyes and decided that he knew what he was doing. His face was determined, and she couldn't suppress a smile at the knowledge that he was fighting to keep her. Usually, people were fighting to get rid of her.

"You don't understand," Meredith said, her voice now pleading. "Come with us, please, Christian. I know you don't want to leave, but they're going to find you if you don't--"

"Meredith." His voice was cold, impatient. "They won't. I can't tell you why, but there's no way that they can."

Severus shook his head. "Don't be an idiot. If the Death Eaters want to find someone, nothing in the world is going to stop them. Don't make me hurt you."

Sophie stood up suddenly, facing Severus. "He's right, you know. They can't and they won't find us here. If you know so much about how they want to kill me, then you know that I have the Sight, don't you? Then you should believe me when I tell you that no one working for You-Know-Who is ever going to set foot in this house or its grounds."

"And what about when you leave the house? You'll have to go out for food eventually. You can't just hide here until all of this ends," he argued.

"What are we supposed to do? Hide in your 'safe house,' treated like worthless, helpless weaklings that need you to protect us? I've had enough of living in fear, sheltered by people who think they know what's best for me when they really don't have a clue. I'll kill myself before I walk out that door with you and give up the first freedom I've ever had," Sophie said, her pointy chin held high.

Neither Meredith nor Severus seemed to know what to say to that. Jack gave Sophie a ghost of a smile, before Meredith found her voice.

"And what about Christian? Are you going to just let them kill him for having the sympathy to get involved with you?"

Jack shot her a withering look. He had wondered when she was going to involve the possibility of him getting killed. Sophie bit her lip.

"He can fight for himself. There's more to him than you think," she said, giving him a meaningful glance. He didn't even look at her, but opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

He turned to open it, and was unsurprised to find Dumbledore standing there, looking both tired and relieved. His white beard was littered with chunks of plaster and tiny slivers of wood, his glasses smudged, and his robes filthy. He peered down his crooked nose, past Jack, to see Meredith, Severus, and Sophronia standing inside, each of them looking vindictive and desperate.

"Have they convinced you to leave yet?" Albus said, turning his gaze back to Jack, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"No. I'm not going anywhere," Jack replied.

"Good. May I come in?"

"Of course," Jack said. He moved aside to let Dumbledore in, quickly shutting the door to the bitter cold trying to seep in. As Albus smiled at each of the three individuals gathered around the bottom of the staircase, Meredith relaxed, Sophie resumed her perch on the steps, and Severus continued to look irritated.

"When I saw that you and Meredith had deserted us, I knew there was only one place you could be. Tell me, Severus, have you come here out of penance, or the goodness of your heart?"

Snape opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, like a fish.

"Never mind. That's not important," Albus said, waving a hand. "What's important is that you believe these people when they tell you they don't need your help at the moment, and ask as few questions as possible." When no one argued, Albus turned to Jack. "Christian, you do need to be careful, but you may carry on your life as usual unless I tell you otherwise. You and Sophronia are in no immediate danger."

Jack nodded, looking relieved. Meredith cast him a confused look.

"Headmaster, I don't understand--" she said, keeping her eyes on Jack.

Albus reached out a hand and patted Meredith's arm. "I know. But for his safety and your own, I'm afraid understanding is unattainable at the moment. Now, I ask that you return to Diagon Alley - the cleanup is not even near finished. You too, Severus."

"But--" Meredith searched for a protest, some way to wrench the truth out of them, some way to make sense of all this, some way to leave feeling that she knew at least something. "Will Christian still be coming to work?"

"Yes. As soon as schedules at the Ministry return to normal, both of you will resume your partnership at the Department."

Meredith nodded mutely, still dissatisfied but finished asking questions. There would be no answers and she knew it.

Severus, however, would not rest so easily. He stepped forward, dark eyes flashing. "Albus, I demand to know what's going on."

Dumbledore sighed. "Then I'm sorry, but your demands cannot be met. This is not a matter to be discussed. Have I made myself clear?"

Severus shot Jack a look of pure venom, but nodded and abruptly turned to walk out the door. An icy breeze swept in, and Sophronia shivered. Dumbledore smiled faintly at Meredith, motioning towards the door. She quickly exited, although not without a last confused glance in Jack's direction. After she was gone, Dumbledore stepped forward.

"I'm terribly sorry about all of this," he said quietly, more in Sophie's direction than Jack's. "I had hoped they would not become involved in this, but when Severus wants something, he will stop at nothing to get it." He shook his head. "They were right to come here, though. I must ask that you use extreme caution, Jack. They may recognise you."

Jack nodded. "Sir--"

"Albus," Dumbledore corrected, smiling again.

"Albus," Jack repeated. "Thanks for coming out here. I thought I was going to have to tell them, or lose Sophie."

"Don't think anything of it," Albus said, and reached out to pat Jack's arm. He beamed at Sophronia. "And you, young lady. I still haven't had the opportunity to speak to you. I'll send you an owl at the soonest possible moment."

Sophie gave him a shy grin, and with that, he turned and left.

After the wind had blown the door shut and he was sure that they were gone, Jack sank onto the bottom step, clutching his head.

"Fuck it all," he muttered. "Why does everyone have to get involved with this? Why can't I just live here in peace?" He began to rock back and forth, both arms clutching his legs to his chest, face buried in his knees. He looked very much like a lost, abandoned child. Sophie sat down beside him and rested a hand on his arm, unsure of what to say.

"I miss my mother," he said, not to her, but to someone else that wasn't there. "I miss her, Bridget, and I miss you, too. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time. I'm sorry I let you go. I didn't want to. I told you not to. I told you, I told you, if you go they'll kill you, and they killed you, those fucking bastards. I told you they'd kill you and I knew it when you kissed me and I still let you go and I'm sorry." He looked up at Sophie, and his face was tear-stained and wild. He had ceased to see her at all. "I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me? You have to forgive me. I want my mother. I want my mother . . ."

Sophie inhaled sharply as his hands reached out to tear at her hair and her clothes. She pressed her thin body against the wall and tried fruitlessly to calm Jack, to reassure him, but his hands continued to fly, as if possessed. Then, without warning, his eyes rolled back and he toppled and lay sprawled like a grotesque marionette. Sophie screamed, and it was the last sound Jack heard before the memory took him again.

They had been walking for what seemed like days. Wandless, exhausted, the three trudged through the seemingly endless forest, desperate for relief. The darkness was so thick it was almost liquid, seeping into Deirdre's pores, crawling behind her eyes and up into her brain until she was convinced she was blind, filling her mouth until she choked, restricting her movement until her limbs threatened to stop and hang, motionless, forever.

She wanted to stop, ask them how much longer it would be until they found light again, but she knew there would be no answer. Tom's wiry arm around her waist and Silvius' bony fingers entwined with hers gave her some comfort and told her that she was not alone, even if the silence was so suffocating she could not hear their breath as it moved across her ears.

Vines and branches, like spidery fingers, brushed across Deirdre's face and she shivered but did not bat them away for fear that Tom and Silvius would be lost forever if she ever let them go. Something small and furry was crawling up her neck. She bit back a scream. Blood, hot and salty, flowed out of her lip and she licked some of it away, leaving the rest to dribble down her chin.

Don't let go, she told herself, but in her mind's eye, she could see the spider. It sat poised behind her ear, waiting for the right moment to strike and spread its poison through her veins.

Something snapped, opened, connected--

And then they were lying, bathed in light, a tangle of pale limbs, crimson blood, and black cloaks on a cold stone floor. Deirdre blinked, gasped, relished the sound of her voice and the pain of dim candlelight on her eyes.

"You survived the Quiet Forest," a soft voice said. It was inflected with both amusement and wonder.

"So we have." Tom had already pulled himself to his feet. "Your services are due to us."

Deirdre sat up, bracing herself against the closest wall. She looked wildly around, still unadjusted to the light.

Silvius lay sprawled across the floor, with an ugly gash across his forehead, matting his blond hair. He appeared to be unconscious. Tom stood a few feet away from his friend's limp figure, holding a dagger. Blood from an identical cut dripped into his eyes, but he made no move to wipe it away.

He was facing a hooded figure half-hidden by a musty, cobwebbed black velvet drape. One of the figure's hands, white as bone, rested on an old piano. Perched atop the piano were three candelabras, dripping wax onto the scratched mahogany surface, their silver holders connected only by delicate spiderwebs.

The figure spoke again. Its voice was deep and oddly accented, but neither entirely male nor female. "Our services are due to no one. When we brought you here, you were six miles from this place, and only minutes away from death."

It stepped forward, away from the drapes, and nudged Silvius' body with its black boot.

"This one was only seconds away. Perhaps he is dead already." It crouched, drew one long-nailed finger across the wound on Silvius' forehead, and tasted the blood. "Delicious. He's still alive."

Tom stiffened as the hooded man - if it truly was such - straightened and reached into its cloak.

"I should kill you anyway. Without your magic, you are helpless, and my bloodlust is as strong as it has ever been. I can smell your fear, human. You do not know how to wield that knife."

Told slashed dangerously at the air. "I will drive this through your heart if you take one step closer to my companions or I. I do know how to wield this knife, and I demand that you give us back our wands and pledge your services to us as you are bound by magical law, or I will slit your throat from ear to ear."

Deirdre could feel the creature smile, although she could not see its face. "How old are you, child? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Tom said quietly. "But that is of no consequence. My hands are not too young to kill. They have killed before."

"I know," the creature replied, and this time Deirdre detected a hint of sadness in its voice. "There is no innocence in your eyes. I fear your blood would be too bitter for my taste, but I shall take it anyway to sustain my life."

The creature's hands reached up, slowly, and grasped either side of its hood. The black cloth rose, revealing a face too beautiful and terrible to be human. A vampire.

The face was white and smooth as marble, and appeared to be dry as paper. It seemed stretched a bit too far over the jutting cheekbones, giving a gaunt, sunken appearance. The nose was long and aristocratic, the mouth full and redder than blood. The eyes were the palest blue Deirdre had ever seen, with tiny, catlike pupils, and the hair thick and so black it carried a navy hue. The vampire, who was still eerily androgynous, smiled, revealing fangs like daggers.

"My name is Teimhnean. I am the guardian of the Quiet Forest. I will give nothing to you, but I will take your life."

Deirdre finally found her voice, and she stood abruptly, eyes flashing. "You have to pledge yourself to us! We survived the forest. We found you. You are bound to us."

Teimhnean laughed. "You think you're the first ones to find me in eight hundred years? I spread those stories myself, to lure children into my woods so I could satisfy my hunger and blame the deaths on their own foolishness. See for yourself."

Teimhnean waved a long arm and the drapes behind it parted. Tentatively, Deirdre stood and peered into the long corridor behind them, squinting until her eyes focussed on the shapes. And then she screamed.

Behind the glass at the end of the hall lay piles and piles of corpses, blood drained, naked, and perfectly preserved. Teimhnean smiled.

"They will be pleased to accept you into their home," it said.

Deirdre continued to scream, groping in her pockets for her wand. When she did not find it, her shrieks increased in pitch. Teimhnean's smirk widened and it bent over, gently lifting Silvius into its arms and tilting his head back to expose a stretch of long, white neck.

Teimhnean opened its mouth as wide as it could, fangs glinting and exposed, and drew Silvius to them. Deirdre's breath caught in her throat and she collapsed, the air in her lungs spent. She watched Teimhnean's fangs in a horrified fascination. Just before they could puncture Silvius' skin, Deirdre's eyes fell upon Tom, who had turned all his focus on his bare hands. The dagger lay at his feet.

Tom's fingers had begun to glow with an odd azure hue. Without thinking, he thrust them forward, shouting words in a tongue unknown to Deirdre, concentrating all his power in his long fingers and the magic that pulsated through them. The blue light sped through the air, striking the hunched figure of Teimhnean with incredible force. Tom straightened, his face blank, as the vampire tumbled backwards, motionless.

"Wake Silvius," Tom commanded, without looking at Deirdre.

"What was that?" Deirdre was shaking. "What did you just do, Tom? Wandless magic?"

"Wake Silvius," he repeated. "I'm going to look for our wands."

"But, Tom--"

"Now."

Deirdre nodded, still frightened, and crawled across the floor to reach Silvius. She dragged him into her lap, smoothing his hair, murmuring his name and touching his face, trying desperately to wake him. He did not move. She slapped his cheeks and shook him, but still there was no response. She began to cry and plead, but when there was still no sign of life in him, she looked wildly around the room for Tom and, seeing nothing, lowered her mouth onto Silvius'.

She could taste blood in his mouth, and beneath that, a lingering sweetness. His breath was warm and slow, barely there, but as her tongue touched his, she felt him stir and wake and then suddenly, kiss her back. His hands found her hair and she clung to him, trembling.

"I've found our wands," Tom's cold voice announced. Deirdre pulled away from Silvius and wiped her mouth, her eyes unable to bear the sight of Tom's face and focusing on the stone floor instead. "It's time to go."

* * *

"You were a real help in there, Conway," Severus snapped. They were walking down the chilly street leading away from Jack's house. Dumbledore had left long before.

"Oh, fuck you. I didn't see much effort on your part, either," Meredith replied. "And besides, it's not like it matters. If Dumbledore says they'll be fine, then I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Albus is not infallible. He's made mistakes before."

"Example?" Meredith raised an eyebrow.

"He hasn't made the best of choices in hiring the Hogwarts staff. First Quirrel, then that cad Lockhart, and--"

"You?" Meredith finished. Severus stopped and glared at her, causing her to roll her eyes. "You forget that I've known you for years, Severus. I know what kind of person you are. I feel terrible for those children you teach, after the stories I hear from my son . . ."

"You never knew me very well," he said.

She shook her head. "Not true. Just because we didn't talk that often doesn't mean I didn't hear the stories about you or see you every day. You were the Dark Arts prodigy, the star of Slytherin, with your nasty little gang. And I would have joined that gang, too, if I hadn't wound up pregnant."

"You would have joined?"

"For Avery, yes. Can you imagine? The Hufflepuff Death Eater. I would have done it in a minute if I didn't have a baby to think about. Actually, it's a miracle I didn't do it anyway . . . and a good thing, too. Look how you turned out."

Severus bristled. "We never would have accepted you. I can't imagine a competent Hufflepuff in the ranks of the Death Eaters, much less someone like you."

It was Meredith's turn to be offended. "Are you still clinging to those idiotic stereotypes? I'd think that you of all people would see the deficiency there. Slytherins weren't the only Death Eaters and Gryffindors weren't the only heroes, you know."

"I'm around those stereotypes every day," Severus countered.

"You're around children every day, Severus. I'm talking about adults. Teenagers, even. Merlin knows my Brynn isn't a walking Hufflepuff stereotype, although you've proven yourself to be the conventional Slytherin: a cold, selfish, cruel son-of-a-bitch." She shot him a mirthless smile, and the smile she got in return was genuine.

"Thank you for that evaluation. You really are quite amusing, Conway, with your presumptions about me. You seem to be quite the expert."

"I was in love with you," she said quietly, erasing both smiles. "Fifteen and the whore of Hufflepuff, in love with all the Slytherin boys and shunned by the rest of the school. That was me. You never saw me, but I saw you. I saw you kill and torture and lie and destroy . . . and then come crawling back to Hogwarts just in time to teach my only child. He'd come home and tell stories about you and it killed me to know that you were still the same ruthless bastard you've always been. You never change. That much is obvious."

She then seemed to become aware that they had been walking down a deserted street when they could have just Apparated back to Diagon Alley, and thus Dumbledore would be waiting for them and wondering where they had gone.

"We need to head back," she said, and moved to Apparate.

Severus grabbed her forearm.

"Wait." He pulled her to face him. "You were really in love with me?"

"Yes, I was," Meredith spat. "But looking back now, I have no idea why. Tell me, Severus, were you really trying to save Sophronia out of the goodness of your heart? Or was it penance, like Dumbledore said? Save one innocent to make up for the hundreds you killed?"

He tightened his grip on her arm. "Do you know what they'll do to her if they get their hands on her? They'll torture her until she predicts every move that their enemies make, then use those prophecies to kill every single person that opposes them. There's not a hope in hell for you if someone is telling your nemesis every move you'll make even before you know you're going to make it. If they find her, then you, me, and every single person we care about will be dead within a matter of days. That's why I did it, Conway. You're just too blind to see that."

"I am not blind," Meredith said. "I just thought . . . perhaps . . . you were doing it only for yourself. You've never given me a reason to think otherwise."

"You don't even see me as human, do you?"

"I used to," she said, "but then you proved me wrong."

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and began to walk briskly down the street, away from him. The wind picked up speed, yanking her blonde hair out of the messy bun that confined it and sending it whirling around her head like a dirty halo. Severus watched her in silence as she reached into her robes and pulled out her wand, a short, slender willow branch. She pivoted to face him, her eyebrows high in her forehead and one filthy hand resting on her hip.

"Are you coming or not?"