A Merciless Affection

Chapter 35: On the Merry-Go-Round in an Inhuman Race

Sarah expected to arrive in the Potion master's quarters. It was almost more than she could bear to find that they were in the Forbidden Forest instead.

"Come," Severus insisted. He led her through the trees; half-blind, she went unresisting, scarcely aware when they came out of the shadows of the forest into the wider darkness of the open sky.

"Your ring, Sarah." When she looked up at him, still dazed, his hand went to the back of her neck, found the chain, and drew it out. But when he tried to place it on her finger, she closed her own hand around the ring, pushing his fingers away, and shoved the silver circlet on roughly for herself. It seemed, quite suddenly, insupportable that anyone should exert possession over her. She had to let him turn the ring, however, since he had to be touching it. She regained her senses just enough to remember his long-ago warning against using it outside the castle's wards, but it was too late to stop him. The sharp breath she drew on one side of the transit turned into a sob of relief on the other, as they arrived, safe and whole. Apparently the grounds counted as being inside the wards.

"Damn!" Severus said, as they wavered unsteadily on the mattress under their feet and collapsed together onto their knees.

The sob of relief tightened inside her to a sob of anger.

"It was my house!" she cried. "Damn him! Damn him damn him damn him!"

Severus laughed into her hair, as he held her, a bitter sound. "Of all the things to think of now," he growled softly.

She bristled for a moment. Then the reality of what she had just passed through crashed down on her and she trembled in his arms.

"It was worse than...than I ever thought," she gasped.

"Because of the house?"

"No." Sarah shook her head. "I...there came a point when...I couldn't have resisted him, even if I had dared." Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his robes.

"I know," he whispered. "All of us have felt it. Do you think all of his followers do so for the sake of power? There are plenty of little worms like Pettigrew, who have been overwhelmed by the terror he inspires, who have surrendered their souls to it." Another tremor shook her. Instead of holding her tighter, Severus pushed her back, seeking her eyes, studying them. "Not you, Sarah."

"I just feel now as if..." her voice broke, and she looked away, "as if I could live under his power...if I had to." She felt anger swelling up in her again. She had been so shaken by what she had just experienced that she wanted to take out her feelings on someone. Severus was the only available target. And very, very easy to blame. "But that's what you've wanted all along, isn't it?" she asked snidely.

Silence...an uncomfortable silence. "Do you really expect me to deny that I would rather see you alive than dead, no matter what happens? Yes, if you no longer feel that death would be preferable to living under his rule, I am glad of it."

"Does that mean you're going to stop trying to prevent it?" As soon as she said it, she knew it was wrong to have done so. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just...it was just so horrible." Her voice cracked on a sob.

After a moment's hesitation, he pulled her close...though a bit roughly. "You won't remember it, Sarah, but when he was rising for the first time, there were a great many people who were all too willing to let him take over--quite ordinary people. Not because they supported his cause. Because they were afraid--afraid that if he triumphed, as he seemed all too likely to do, it would be better not to have fought against him." His voice was tight. "Is that how you feel? Do you want to give in to him, now?"

Sarah shook her head against his chest.

"You're fighting, even if nobody else ever knows it. Even if he wins, you'll have tried to do something."

"I don't want him to win!" Sarah protested, raising her head.

"I know," Severus answered sharply. "But I won't have you dying needlessly. Not if I can prevent it. Don't try to circumvent me, Sarah!"

"I didn't think I was," she said, puzzled and hurt at the suggestion.

"You aren't. But nothing has worried me so much in the last few months as that damned Gryffindor courage prompting you to do something stupid."

"I'm not stupid!"

"I'm not accusing you of being. You did very well tonight. They're going to be at each other's throats for months, trying to get whatever they can from you." He snorted softly.

"What about you?" Sarah asked. "They're going to be at your throat, too. More so, probably. And I'm going to be caught in the middle."

"Let me worry about that for now. The Dark Lord was more pleased with you than you realize. And more pleased with me than I dared to hope."

"Then the headmaster was right?"

"I never doubted that. But there are...issues he may not have considered."

Whatever the issues were, Sarah realized that she was far too drained to think about them now. "Can I just...lie down?"

"Get ready for bed first," he demanded. He eased her to her feet beside the bed. She felt more wobbly than she expected to, but she forced herself to retrieve her nightgown. She had never been so glad--after the age it seemed to take to get herself into the red flannel--to curl up against him.

"You can't sleep here, Sarah," he said, fishing for her ring.

"Please don't make me go," she said. "I don't think I can bear to lie there alone in the dark thinking about...about tonight."

He sighed quietly. "I'll give you something. You're apt to have nightmares."

"I don't want anything. I just want to stay here. Please. I'll leave early. Everything's set up."

She didn't quite expect him to concede, but he did. Perhaps it was because he knew that he would be right about the nightmares. Perhaps he was trying to keep his own nightmares at bay. It was not an easy night, although toward morning the restlessness of their minds and bodies finally eased a little and allowed for some real sleep.

* * *

Sarah woke first, as usual, and peered at the clock in dismay. After nine! At least it was Sunday. She situated herself and twisted the silver band around her finger, hoping against the odds that the shock of her departure wouldn't disturb Severus too much. She had done this so often, it was habit--the sharp jerk of the transfer, then a quick dismissal of the illusion spells. But this time, as the silence spell was banished, she heard her name being called at quite close range.

"Sarah?" It was Angelina, standing there peering between the bed curtains. "Um, what was that?" the girl asked.

"What was what?" Sarah asked, trying to pretend sleepy befuddlement, which was not easy with her heart beating a rapid staccato.

"What you just did," Angelina answered. "It was like you disappeared for an instant or...something. You were lying one way, then you were lying another."

"Did you not get enough sleep? It sounds like your eyes are playing tricks on you."

But Angelina was pointing to the ring...or rather to the chain, which disappeared under Sarah's right hand. "What is that?" She slipped inside the curtains and plopped down on the edge of the bed. "You are so busted, girl!"

"Okay, okay," Sarah said, trying to think fast. "You know I have a boyfriend."

"Right."

"Well, over Christmas I figured out a better way to sneak out to meet him." She slid the ring surreptitiously off her finger; if she had to show it to Angelina, she did not want to suggest more significance to it than was necessary. Hesitantly, hinting that she was afraid of saying more, she said, "You did promise to keep my secret, Angelina."

"I have! So, how do you do it?" The girl was peering fixedly at Sarah's closed hand.

"I would be in so much trouble if anyone found out," Sarah went on. "Not just with Umbridge but with the Ministry, too."

"I'm not going to tell! So just tell me!" Angelina whispered, with conspiratorial fervor.

The truth, unfortunately, was the only thing that made sense. "I have a pendant that's a Portkey," Sarah confessed. With a swift movement, she tucked her 'pendant' down inside the neck of her gown before the other girl could ask to look at it. She emphasized, "An illegal Portkey. I could be sent to Azkaban for even having it. And I would definitely get expelled for using it."

Angelina's eyes went wide. "Why take the risk? It's not like you weren't managing before Christmas, is it?"

Good point, unfortunately. A clandestine tryst with another student, should it be discovered, would probably merit no worse than detention for the embarrassed couple (along with some pointed lectures and owls to each of their parents). Why take the risk, indeed?

"We want to be married," Sarah said. "But our families might not allow it."

"Who is this you're seeing?" Angelina said. "You're driving me mad trying to figure it out. And how can you let your family tell you who you can and can't marry?"

"You're a half-blood, right?" Witch mum and Muggle dad, Sarah thought she remembered.

"What about it?" Angelina sounded a little defensive.

"You don't know how lucky you are. Old wizarding families are...well, they're not easy to be in. Things are different for us, and not in good ways, no matter what those pureblood fanatics say about it." An idea suddenly fell into place. "My boyfriend is from one of those families, too. And my background isn't as impeccable as his parents might like. I'm in Gryffindor, for one thing. In case you haven't noticed, that's a mortal sin to some people."

"So, you're admitting your boyfriend is in Slytherin?" Angelina cocked an eyebrow astutely.

"Okay, I admit it. But he's not even in our year, so don't try to guess."

"You're going out with a younger...well, a boy?"

"He's very mature," Sarah assured. "But obviously we can't be married yet. And we can't afford to be caught, you know?"

Angelina frowned. "Okay. I see. I think."

"Please don't tell?"

"I won't. So, you use an illusion charm to make it look like you're still in bed?"

"Was it any good?" Sarah asked.

"Well, until you just sort of jumped from one position to another. I wouldn't have known. Of course, I didn't try shaking you or anything."

"Will you still cover for me? We've only got the summer term left."

"What are you going to do over the summer? And next year?"

Sarah grimaced ruefully. "I guess we'll figure that out then."

Angelina returned the rueful look. "I hope it works out." She laid her hand on Sarah's. "You know I won't tell."

"Thank you," Sarah said earnestly. Then something occurred to her. "Um, what were you waking me up for?"

"Just breakfast. You're usually up before everyone else. You coming?"

It was more than a little uncanny, after the week just past, to interact as an ordinary seventh year student again. In all honesty, after last night, it was a relief. "Sure."

* * *

Sarah kept her conversation with Angelina to herself, deciding that, having already kept one close call with her dorm mate hidden, this was not a good time to have an attack of guilty honesty. But she did make a point of going to Madam Pomfrey that very morning for the illusion girdle, which proved to be a long belt woven of thin cords.

"You wear it under your robes," Madam Pomfrey told her. "You'll want to keep your robes fastened all the way up the front, to keep it hidden. Not that anyone is likely to know what it is, but there's no point in taking that chance. And you'll be having enough difficulty with your uniform that you won't want it to show. Thank goodness there's only two months of school left!"

Sarah found it difficult to tell any difference in her appearance when she looked in a mirror, but Severus assured her that it did have an effect. He could still feel the swell of her belly, but his hand met her stomach well before his eyes said it should. So the chief danger now was bumping into someone accidentally and revealing the discrepancy.

If her week of freedom had lessened her ability to pretend that she was still merely Sarah Darkglass, the matter went unnoticed as the N.E.W.T. students entered a frantic period of preparation for their exams. Professor Mendelev, from the Wizarding Examinations Authority, arrived routinely each week to check on the progress of those students who had selected demonstration potions with an extended brewing period; he set (and renewed, as needed) complex Anti-Cheating Charms on everything in their individual workrooms, assuring them that the process had never caused problems with anyone's potion in the past.

"There's always got to be a first time," groaned Valancy (who had the next workroom up the hallway) after the examiner's visit.

With something as sensitive as the Wolfsbane brewing, Sarah had to agree.

But the biggest problem the seventh years were experiencing was the utter chaos into which Hogwarts had degenerated after the holiday. To no one's surprise, Fred and George Weasley had been the prime instigators...a role they retained in spirit, even after leaving Hogwarts.

Yes, they were gone. Sarah wasn't sure if it was a minor prank gone awry or an intentional effort to disrupt Umbridge's tenure as headmistress, but they had managed to turn part of the fifth floor corridor into a swamp on the very day that school resumed. And upon the point of being captured by the Inquisitorial Squad (in front of practically the whole school), they had Accio'd their brooms--previously confiscated by Umbridge--and had flown cheerfully away, to the great delight of the watching students.

Ever since that afternoon, the attempts to emulate their example had been causing havoc all over the school. Even more disconcerting--at least for the more serious N.E.W.T. students--was the fact that most of the teachers were permitting the havoc to continue unchecked. Snape, thankfully, still maintained strict order in his classroom, as did Professor Sinistra, but Professor Sprout had begun giving hints all through class about ways in which plants could create disruptions, and Professor McGonagall--who had always been a martinet about hallway conduct--could be seen walking serenely through the corridors, ignoring mischief going on under her very nose.

And despite his public position on the chaos, Sarah had caught Severus looking briefly but unusually smug about the incident with the Weasley twins. When she asked him, after the fact, if he was glad to have the twins gone from Hogwarts, he shrugged. Then he commented that some of the rare swampland ingredients which had probably gone into creating the base for their charm might possibly have been stolen from his private stores. "It has happened before," he said. But his uncharacteristic nonchalance brought her eyebrows up in a silent query. His own black brows lifted in the silent hint at an answer, but he said nothing more about it--in that way he had of wordlessly indicating that a subject was not open for discussion--and so Sarah did not press him for information, although she sorely wanted to.

In some ways, she supposed, the less she knew about anti-Umbridge machinations, the better. While she supported the perpetrators in principle, the end result of their actions--increasing stress on the members of the I.S.--was something she was rapidly coming to resent. She had been down in her workroom when Fred and George had produced their "portable swamp," and she had pointedly ignored the summons of her hidden silver badge (on the theory that her absence would probably go unnoticed) until the flow of excited students down the corridor had increased to the point where curiosity overcame her. It had been then, as she pushed her way up the stairs toward the entrance hall to witness the ending of yet another confrontation with Umbridge, that she had spied Professor Severus Snape with a decided smirk on his face. It had disappeared a moment later, as the twins made their escape and Umbridge began stalking around looking for someone else to blame.

"Darkglass didn't show up in time to help," Draco Malfoy had complained. Whatever his father had said to him about the subject of his Head of House and the Gryffindor girl, he had apparently figured out, all too quickly, that he still had a means of harassing her about which none of his elders could do anything. He had given her quite a dirty look out of the corner of his eye as he informed Umbridge of her slacking.

"I was dealing with a potion in a very tricky stage," Sarah had explained angrily. "I came as quickly as I could."

Thankfully, Umbridge had accepted the excuse, although Sarah's further attempts to beg off I.S. duties on account of her upcoming N.E.W.T.s met with very little sympathy. Umbridge herself was run ragged trying to deal with the constant state of minor emergency that prevailed at Hogwarts. If she could do it (so her opinion was), everyone on her Squad--which began to increase in its numbers, as more and more help was needed to combat the rising disorder--would have to cope with it as well.

Consequently, Sarah was unable to spend as much time fussing over her Wolfsbane preparations as she would have preferred. Although--like everything else in her life--the Wolfsbane had taken on sinister overtones.

She had known, from her earlier study, that the Wolfsbane Potion had originally been developed during the Dark Lord's first rise to power, and that its first intended use had been to make the werewolves who served him into more efficient weapons. A werewolf who kept his mind during his transformation could follow orders and attack victims selectively in a way that a moon-maddened lycanthrope was unable to do.

The likelihood, based on the recent conversation (if one could call it that) with the Dark Lord, that she would soon be required to brew the potion for that very purpose put something of a damper on her enthusiasm for the tricky mixture. What had once been a fascinating challenge had become instead a tangible symbol of the threat of being forced to do more harm. It might feel less terrible than casting an Unforgivable at someone, but the suffering that would result from any potions she made in the Dark Lord's service could scarcely be less, even if she didn't have to see the effects with her own two eyes.

* * *

As Severus had predicted, the Occlumency lessons with Potter did not resume. The additional time that gave them, however, was spent on things that Sarah would have preferred to avoid. Mainly she read: books that she could not afford to be caught reading anywhere else in the castle. Books on the Dark Arts. Books on Dark Potions. Most of it was magic she dared not practice--not in her present state; it was too dangerous--but Severus drilled her in the theory for hours at a time on the weekends. Her nightmares began to fill up with the horrors she could cause with a strip of human skin or a dram of menstrual blood, and she gave birth over and over in her dreams to potion-created monstrosities, while her dorm mates dreamed about failing their exams.

For the N.E.W.T.s, at least, Sarah felt as well-prepared as she could hope to be. She was capable of making any of the potions that were likely to come up on the exam. And in spite of Sprout's asides, the review work in Herbology made Sarah feel that she was reasonably secure in that subject. Astronomy was less certain--all the other stresses on her life seemed to be driving such mathematically detailed information out of her head, so that she felt she knew less now than she had a few months ago. But Astronomy was not vital, thankfully.

The I.S., as usual, was the real bane of her days. Post inspection duties took up valuable study time. And it was becoming dangerous to be on the Inquisitorial Squad. Members were routinely hexed by other students. Montague had still not recovered from his adventure in the Vanishing Cabinet, and finally Severus agreed with Madam Pomfrey that his parents must be informed. To judge from Umbridge's attitude the day after the Montagues' visit, her meeting with them had not gone well. (Severus told Sarah afterwards that--given the general state of chaos they had observed--they had been all too ready to blame the new headmistress, rather than anyone else, for their son's condition.) Sarah lived in fear of someone noticing her entering or leaving the post inspection room. She was annoyed enough over the current state of things that she felt very little guilt anymore about informing on certain of the more obstreperous troublemakers in Gryffindor House. Thankfully, Potter and his friends weren't among them.

Draco also remained a thorn in her side. Umbridge, however, was too harried to take much notice of his attempts to discredit Sarah.

"You wait," Draco said, catching her alone in the post inspection room one afternoon. "It's time you were taught a lesson, and I'm not sorry I'll be the one to teach you." He leered arrogantly.

"As if you could," Sarah retorted, although it discomfited her to realize that Draco was aware of his father's plans for her. "Are you so eager to have another man's leavings?"

She was gratified to see Draco blanch slightly. "You little bitch. You little whore," he spat. "You have no idea what's waiting for you."

"I'd sooner die than marry a sorry little boy like you, Malfoy," Sarah said coolly.

"You'll wish you were dead," Draco got in, before the arrival of another Squad member put a stop to the conversation.

Sarah shuddered over the encounter, later, while Severus held her.

"What if..."

"It won't happen. I will not permit it."

"But if the Dark Lord refuses to acknowledge us, our marriage...." She had a horrible fear that if she went into the Malfoy household, it wouldn't be just Draco abusing her. She could still feel Lucius' eyes on her, that night in Knockturn Alley.

"It won't happen. Even if it's necessary to hide you away to prevent it."

The thought was comforting. But Draco's threat--you have no idea what's waiting for you--left her with a permanent, lingering chill.

* * *

With one week to go before exams, Sarah was called unexpectedly into Umbridge's office on Friday afternoon. Upon arriving, however, her first impulse was to turn around and run. Standing near the headmistress's desk was Franklin Nott.

"I understand that you have made arrangements to spend this weekend with your uncle," Umbridge declared, without further ado. "I wish you had informed me in advance. However, since he's come to collect you, I will permit you to go."

To go. With her uncle. Away from the safety of Hogwarts.

"I'm afraid I've had to change my plans," Sarah said, realizing immediately that denying her uncle's story would only cause more problems for her with Umbridge. "I simply have too much studying to do. I'm sorry, Uncle Franklin." She gritted her teeth at this pretense of civility, even as her heart pounded in fear.

"Now, Sarah, you can't possibly mean to disappoint your Aunt Fiona," Franklin said, a hint of dangerous firmness in his tone. "It is her birthday, after all, and you promised."

"I really can't, Uncle Franklin." Sarah wondered what it would take to get the man to give up, afraid that whatever he had planned was important enough to him that he would brook no refusal. She did not feel that she could count on Umbridge to protect her, even if her uncle were to drag her bodily from the office. "I know Aunt Fiona wants me to do well in my N.E.W.T.s, and I can't afford this weekend away. I'll come next year."

"A short break would do you good," Franklin urged, as if he had her best interests at heart. "Too much study can overstrain the mind."

"I promised to study with someone this weekend," Sarah tried.

"After promising to come to us?" Franklin raised his greying eyebrows, and glanced at Umbridge, clearly hoping to have the headmistress's support. "After all the arrangements have been made?"

Umbridge seemed more interested in solving this problem so that she could get on with the next one than providing any particular backup to Mr. Nott. But the end result was the same. "This is a pointless argument, Miss Darkglass, and I will not allow it to continue," she said sharply. "Arrangements have been made. It was wrong of you to neglect to tell me about them, and even more wrong of you to make other plans. Your uncle has come all this way to get you. You will go with him."

"I need to get my things, then," Sarah breathed, her thoughts racing toward some plan, any plan, that would let her get to Severus and tell him what was happening.

"Nonsense, Sarah," Franklin said. His shrewd look indicated that he suspected her intentions. "It's only for the weekend, and we have everything you might need. Come along." He approached her, and within the confines of the office, she could not readily escape him without openly revealing her terror of him. Was it worth it to pitch a fit, to make up something, anything, in order to convince Umbridge to reconsider her position? But no suitable idea was coming to her, and her uncle's hand closed around her wand arm at the elbow.

"Thank you, Dolores," he said, with a slight bow, and he led his niece out into the hallway.

"I'm not coming with you," Sarah hissed, trying to wrestle away, now that Umbridge could not see her and require explanations of her behavior. Would someone more useful see her struggling and come to her rescue? None of the students passing by noticed her. As it had always been.

"Oh, yes, you are," Franklin returned, in a whisper. "If necessary, I'll use Imperio. But if I have to do that, there'll be consequences at the other end."

Sarah stilled. She wasn't willing to throw away all possibility of escape, and she feared what her uncle might do to punish her, almost as much as she feared whatever he had planned for her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, in a thin voice.

"Notting Chase, of course. You surprise me, Sarah--so afraid to spend a little time with your own relations."

"If that's all it will be, I'll come quietly. Can you promise me that?"

Her uncle chuckled harshly. "If you're willing to listen to what we have to say, there'll be no trouble. That's the only promise I'll offer, for now."

Sarah took a deep breath. "I daresay that our Master won't be pleased if I'm harmed."

She felt his fingers dig deeper into her arm. "Come along."

She went, but with eyes desperately searching for some friendly face, some hope of help. Why wasn't McGonagall at her usual post in the entrance hall, supervising students as they gathered for dinner? But it was too early yet for that. Sarah yearned toward the dungeon stairs as they passed, pleading in her mind for Severus to come up them, but he did not. Please, I need somebody!

Katie Bell, dressed in Quidditch robes, was just ahead of them as they passed out the doors, undoubtedly headed for the pitch to practice.

"Katie!" Sarah called out. Her uncle's hand tightened painfully, but she ignored it, hoping that he wouldn't dare to do anything to silence her with so many witnesses. Katie turned, looking surprised at who was addressing her. "Can you please...tell Angelina to tell Professor Snape that I won't be able to make our appointment tomorrow because I have to go home with my uncle. It's really important."

Katie gave a short and somewhat dubious nod. "Sure."

Sarah breathed hard as she watched Katie go off toward the pitch. She had no idea if the girl would remember. Or, if she did, if Angelina would remember. But it was the only hope she had of letting Severus know where she had gone.

"You think you'll be rescued?" Her uncle jerked her arm sharply. "I wouldn't count on it, dearest niece. Not that one. He'll worry first about his own hide."

What can Severus possibly do to save me? And from what?

Franklin went on. "Don't think you won't pay for that, Sarah."

"I thought I already was," she retorted, wriggling her arm in his grip. She could feel where his fingertips were going to leave bruises. They were the only ones traveling the path toward the main gate, and the need for whispers was gone. "What do you want with me?"

"I already told you--we only want to talk with you."

"And I'm to do whatever you tell me?"

"If you put it that way. But really, it's more a matter of you having the chance to see our side of things. Your family's side."

Sarah bit back an accusation: when have you ever been my family? It would be more valuable, at this point, to know what her uncle was planning, to know what he really wanted. If there were ever a good time to enter her new vocation as a spy, this was it.

"I'll listen," she said. It would not do to appear to concede too quickly. "But I won't make any promises."

Franklin's hand loosened ever so slightly. "That's enough, for the moment. We'll see what your aunt has to say." He reached in his pocket with his other hand. "Since you claim you can't Apparate properly, I've had to go to the trouble of getting this." He pulled out a small, dingy piece of leather, like the detached tongue of a shoe. "Take hold."

Sarah laid a finger gingerly on it.

"I said take hold!" her uncle growled. "I won't have you letting go at the last moment." Not waiting for her to obey, he finally released her elbow and instead closed his hand around her fingers, forcing her into constant contact with the leather. "One...two...three...."

The Portkey jerked her away. From Hogwarts. From Severus. From all guarantee of safety.