Redemption

Chapter 4: Bloody Men

"Is this a joke? Is Harry Potter about to spring out from behind the curtain and shout 'Surprise!'?" Snape was glaring at Dumbledore, as if he truly believed that this was all part of some elaborate set-up.

"I assure you this is no joke, Severus. It is a grave matter indeed, when it comes in the light of Neville Longbottom's mysterious disappearance." Dumbledore half-heartedly pushed the ashes at the bottom of Fawkes' perch around with his wand tip, avoiding Snape's eye.

"Please tell me you have some brains Miss Granger, and saved a few strands of the hair as a control sample?"

"I, erm, wasn't able to do that," Hermione said as gently as she could, aware that Snape was liable to erupt at any minute.

Septimus, who rather felt as though he had been transported into the middle of some French farce, thought it best to say nothing when on such unfamiliar ground.

"No, because heaven forbid that Hermione Granger should actually display some common sense amongst all that alleged genius, and abide by conventional standards of practice."

"Really Severus, control samples were going out of use even in my day!" Dumbledore felt he owed it to Hermione to intervene, since the current situation was largely his fault.

"No they weren't!" Snape snarled. "I keep control samples, I still use control samples!" He fidgeted wildly for a few seconds, before rising from his chair striding over to the window.

"We could use this as an opportunity to solve both problems," Septimus spoke for the first time since Hermione's admission, and even Snape turned round from his silent brooding to listen to the latest suggestion. "What if we place some sort of location spell, charm, whatever, on this Longbottom fellow, find him, then use the location potion with one of his hairs?"

"That's the most idiotic thing I ever heard!" Snape snapped back.

* * *

"Well, really it's not a matter of what went wrong, or - or what didn't work," Terry stuttered, half paralysed by the man's piercing glare. "B-but rather who didn't work. What I mean to say is, that I think - no, I know - my lab assistant may have inadvertently placed some of her own influence into the potion."

"Meaning?" The man crossed his arms impatiently, but Terry was pleased to see the colour in his face was slowly beginning to drain away, and he had taken a step backwards. Terry took a deep breath.

"Meaning that it can't be activated without her. I can only activate the primary root seed. I think prolonged contact, perhaps some sort of strong emotional bond, means that only Hermione can activate the secondary root seed."

"Interesting. Of course, you know what this means don't you?"

Terry nodded fearfully, feeling utterly wretched.

"You see it makes no difference in the end. It just would have saved a lot of time and unnecessary bother if we had managed to capture her in the first place."

* * *

Two hours later, Snape was back in his customary state of bored irritation, staring out of the Headmaster's window onto the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts. He had refused point blank to participate in such a ridiculous exercise.

At the opposite end of the room, Dumbledore and Hermione were consulting excitedly over several sheets of parchment. Septimus was supposed to be looking up references for them in Dumbledore's library, but was instead sprawled over his beanbag, reading a Muggle comic from Dumbledore's confiscated stash.

Dumbledore and Hermione had been constructing an Arithmancy chart of all the possible Neville outcomes. So far they had managed to rule out death, illness, and voluntary wandering. They were currently calculating a kidnap line.

"Who would be inclined to kidnap Mr. Longbottom?" Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Snape snorted unhelpfully in the background.

"Surely the person who stole the Phoenix Potion must have realised by now why the Potion isn't performing as it should. And if they really have got Terry working for them, then I don't think it would take him long to realise how to rectify the problem. They must know they need to obtain a fresh, untainted secondary root seed."

"So you're saying you think Neville has been kidnapped by the same person who stole the Phoenix Potion? Probable. But that would leave us in the same quandary," Dumbledore paused, "We need more specific data before we can calculate such a hypothesis. Hermione, I know the project was supposed to be Grade B, but did anyone else know about what you were working on? Anyone at all?"

"Well, Terry tested it on Ron - but obviously there's no way he's a suspect! I mean, I wasn't suggesting that I thought for a moment that -"

"- I understand Hermione. Please continue with anyone else who may have come into contact with the Phoenix Potion."

"Terry mentioned the Quidditch girls, and I suppose that -" Hermione suddenly broke off mid-sentence, struck by an inspiration so powerful that even Snape turned round. "Draco! Draco Malfoy! I told him about it in the elevator at work!"

"Once again Severus Snape's empty head hypothesis appears to be correct." Snape's sarcastic comment remained completely ignored, however, as Dumbledore and Hermione launched into a new calculation with vigour.

Snape continued unabashed.

"The boy may have had somewhat unfortunate parentage, but you can't use that against him forever. The prejudice he receives -"

"I've rarely seen a clearer indication! Draco Malfoy! Neville Longbottom is being held at Malfoy Manor." Dumbledore looked up from his hurried scribblings, catching Snape's eye. "I am most sorry, Severus."

* * *

Snape strode moodily in front of Hermione, splashing across the muddy field with a vengeance.

"Severus, this isn't the sodding Chinese Long March you know."

"Really? I rather hoped if I walked fast enough, then you, the weak hindrance, might be left behind to be hit by a stray Kuomintang sniper."

Hermione started in surprise; it was so unusual to come across a Wizard familiar with muggle history, and this from the Head of Slytherin! He seemed to have a knack for unexpected tastes and revelations, which she would have considered fascinating had it come from anyone else.

"How do you know all these things?" It had slipped out before she had a chance to censor her thoughts, but it was a genuine question none-the-less. His range of references and eclectic library really were quite extraordinary.

The tone of admiration in her voice must have been lost on Snape, however, for he remained pensively silent, before suddenly speeding up his pace.

"It's called self-education, Miss Granger. Might I suggest you familiarise yourself with the concept some time?" he sneered, as Hermione shot a look of deepest loathing at his turned back.

They were nearing the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione looked longingly at Hagrid's hut, but it was no longer a comforting beacon of light in the Gamekeeper's absence. By the time she had turned round, Snape had disappeared under the low hanging branches of the nearest trees. Hermione shivered and ran to catch up, fearful at the thought of being left alone in such an uncertain place.

She entered the forest, treading carefully, too afraid to really notice that it was still dry underneath the thick leafy canopy.

"Severus?" She couldn't see much in the sudden gloom and began to feel a rising panic that she had lost her guide.

"Severus I -," Hermione ran smack into the back of Snape in her haste, sending him sprawling onto a bed of dried leaves. She landed awkwardly on top of him, knocking the breathe out of her lungs, as the momentum of the collision carried her over his body. She grabbed a fistful of his robes frantically, causing him to roll over with her through the dried leaves. As their limbs became entangled she felt his arms twine almost protectively around her until they came to rest at the hollow of a tree, breathless and shaken up.

"Are you alright?" Snape peered down at her, eyes scanning her face quickly.

"I think -," she could feel his breath tickling her face, his every inhalation crushing her further into the soft ground beneath her back. She was suddenly aware that his arms were still wrapped around her. Hermione shifted slightly and felt him tighten his grip around the back of her waist, his hand large and masculine against her contrasting slimness. She could feel his body heat searing through the flimsy thinness of her robes and was unable to stop herself from trembling slightly at the sensation. His face was now resting so close to her own, she could finally look into those cold, dark eyes For a moment she caught his eye and felt as though she was being burnt by their impenetrable depths, until he snatched his gaze away quickly. He shifted onto his elbows, causing her to jerk forward reflexively as his pelvis ground into her own.

"Next time look where you're going Miss Granger," Snape sneered as he leapt up and stalked off without stopping to help Hermione up.

"You are such a Slytherin!" she yelled at his retreating back.

* * *

The gargoyle swooped over the castle, circling once to get his bearings before landing expertly on top of Hogwart's Astrology Tower. He flapped his wings a few times, trying to dislodge the small bits of debris he had picked up along the way.

He sniffed the air once, twice, turning his head nearly one hundred and eighty degrees each time. It wasn't hard for him to get a feel for the place; he had after all temporarily lodged here sometime in the sixteenth century. He seemed to recall it had been around the time he had been driven out from his nice Cathedral. He wondered if Ivan the Ugly was still perched up above the main quad. But then this visit was strictly business.

Master had said she was on the North side, lodged in the dungeons set in the cliffside. He flapped his wings experimentally then took off again, indiscernible even to the keenest eye from the rain-sodden grounds below. Hugging the building closely to avoid being blown off course, he weaved in and out of flagpoles and turrets, before descending vertically down the North wall toward the choppy lake below.

Third window across... yes this was it. He flew right up to the glass and leered into Hermione's sitting room. Finding it empty, he tapped the bottom pane of glass experimentally, surprised to find that it had been left off the latch. Hovering steadily, he reached forward and pushed himself through the opened window, tearing up from a nosedive toward the flagstone floor at the last minute.

He sniffed the air again once, twice, and then flew through Hermione's chambers as a precautionary measure. But there was no doubt in his mind, scents never lied. She was gone. But she had been here.

As the gargoyle dodged back through the turrets of the castle, he had no idea his movements were being scrutinised. Blue eyes framed beneath furrowed white brows regarded his progress grimly. They were coming. Severus would need to be informed.

* * *

Snape suddenly stopped in a small clearing ahead, although Hermione was careful this time to make sure that she gave him plenty of space.

"We are here," he announced curtly.

Hermione gratefully sat down to rest on a severed tree trunk. They had not journeyed very far into the Forbidden Forest, but it had been a brisk and awkward walk. She watched curiously as Snape took a small, but lethal looking knife out from the inside pocket of his robes and began sharpening it on a nearby tree.

"Is that necessary?" she heard herself squeak, vehemently wishing that Apparating and Floo travel weren't so detectable.

"Most unfortunately we do not have the time to hang around waiting for a stray Thestral to happen upon us, we must make them find us. A little blood-letting seems perfectly in order."

Hermione swallowed hard. This was the Head of Slytherin House, she doubted very much that his limited code of chivalry stretched as far as 'thou shalt not cut women.' However, she watched with dawning comprehension as he proceeded to roll his right sleeve up. Instinctively she stepped toward him, unsure why she felt she should be near to him as he did this. As Snape plunged his arm into a beam of moonlight Hermione was shocked to discover an arm riddled with long raised scars that shone a beautiful silver in the strange light.

Snape looked up to find her staring wide-eyed at his arm and seemed to issue an unspoken challenge in his stare. For some reason, Hermione knew it was very important to him not to ask, and remained silent.

"Are you okay doing this?" She felt she should at least acknowledge his uncustomary selflessness.

"Why, are you offering?" Snape replied acidly. But evidently it was a rhetorical question, for he had already lowered his knife. Hermione knew she should turn away, it felt awfully as though she were trespassing on some very sacred, private act. But there was something morbidly compulsive about the situation and, when Snape's eyes looked up before he began, she thought she could almost detect a pleading in them for her to stay where she was.

So she watched from the sidelines as Snape lowered the knife onto his skin, exhaled slowly, then suddenly dragged the blade point across the length of his arm. For a second it looked as though he hadn't broken the skin's surface at all, until suddenly a thousand redcoat soldiers rushed out from underneath his score. He lifted the knife again in his clenched fist and pulled it swiftly across the same route, deepening the wound, but his arm and expression remained steady.

He threw his head back and exhaled very slowly, as though savouring the moment, then lowered the knife again, tearing the blade frenziedly across his arm again and again, his aim become more erratic as he repeatedly scratched along his arm. His blood was now starting to pool in little wells of deepness, and a silent crimson tear began to slowly descend down the edge of his arm, splashing unheard onto the forest floor.

Hermione pulled her gaze away and looked into his enthralled face, shocked to see two red dots of colour animating his drawn face.

"Severus," she moved forward and wrapped her hand tentatively around his other arm. "I think that's enough."

He looked up dazed, as though confused that Hermione was even there.

"Yes... quite right..." His voice took a while to return to its usual tone. Hermione stepped closer to him again and began to rub her hand briskly up and down his left forearm, as though trying to return his circulation to normal. He still held the knife clutched in his hand.

When he moved again she stepped tactfully away, withdrawing her comforting touch. Wordlessly Snape set about cleaning the knife with a wad of moss. Occupied in his task with his back to her, he finally broke the silence.

"Can you see any yet?"

"Erm, the thing is, I don't see Thestrals." Hermione felt inexplicably embarrassed.

"Well lucky you," Snape replied somewhat testily, as he turned around to scan the clearing.

"Have you... have you been able to see them for a long time?" she cursed her own insensitivity, biting down on her tongue too late. But the expected onslaught didn't come; Snape merely looked at her questioningly before answering slowly.

"Since my first day at Hogwarts. My... a family member died when I was six." He continued to hold Hermione's gaze, but this time the burning feeling was absent.

Suddenly he broke away.

"Over there. By the Oak." He strode forward toward some invisible focal point, Hermione following closely behind.

"I didn't factor in you not being able to see Thestrals."

He sounded almost resentful, Hermione thought. Well, excuse me for being awkward, and not having lived a life of woe and tragedy.

"You will have to ride with me. There is a long and gory history of unseeing people stupidly attempting to ride these beasts, and I suppose the Headmaster would be rather put out were I to return minus Hogwart's relief teacher."

Hermione smiled to herself, wondering what Snape would say if he knew that she had once ridden a Thestral all the way to the Ministry of Magic. Still, she was relieved to hear that she was not to be treated to a repeat performance of that rather disconcerting experience.

"Here." His cool fingers closed over hers and he placed her hands in the silky mane of a Thestral. It was very odd to discover that the transparent air around her suddenly had a texture.

"I assume your horse riding skills are as advanced as your broom flying," Snape sneered as he laced his fingers together then lowered them to knee level. "Place your foot in here, I'll give you a leg-up." Hermione carefully raised her foot into the cup of Snape's hands and tightened her grip on the Thestral's mane.

"Ready?"

Hermione nodded before Snape pushed upwards propelling her onto the bony seat of the Thestral. As she slung her leg rather ungraciously over the other side Snape sniggered.

"Well you try mounting something you can't see!" she replied indignantly.

Snape vaulted onto the Thestral behind her, as usual his catlike movements making even such an awkward manoeuvre appear graceful. Damn it, such elegance really was wasted on that man, Hermione thought, reddening slightly at the memory of her clumsy collision earlier on.

Behind her she felt Snape sidling forward carefully, until she could feel the pressure of his warm body against her back. Unexpectedly she felt his right arm extend and wrap fully around her waist, holding her firmly in place. A pleasant, hazy feeling of security settled over her.

"Do - do you want me to use a healing charm on your arm?" She could see spots where blood had already begun to soak through his robes, wrinkling the stiff fabric and welding it to his skin.

"Leave it," Snape answered brusquely. Like Dumbledore, he believed that some scars should be left to tell their story.

"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire." Snape shouted.

The Thestral responded instantly, plunging upwards into the night air. Snape tightened his grip around Hermione, despite the painful throbbing his wound issued in protest.

* * *

Master was in a rage now. He was not happy at all. Gargoyle didn't care, as long as he received his payment, it was all the same to him. He had served many masters over the years, many skilled and powerful Wizards; he was hardly going to begin a career in fear with this one.

"What do you mean she wasn't there? Where else would she be? The stupid girl has nowhere else to go. I saw to that. Then there was that foolish letter she left behind in her house."

"Massster, but she was there. O yes, this nose smelt her. Smelt her scent in the air."

"Then she cannot have gone far. Perhaps the old fool has regressed even more than we thought and taken her out of her hiding hole in the dungeons. Gather the rest of your kind and search the castle."

"Yes Massster."

"Oh and Glod, one more thing. I want this done as covertly as possible. No point involving any more people than we have to. Just cling to the walls and gutters and strike only when you see the girl. Got that? No swooping through halls or landing on ledges or frightening young children."

"Yes Massster."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *