Without Wand or Wire

WolfenMoondaughter

Story Summary:
Summer after the Trio's fifth year. Ron and Hermione get closer, while Harry grows distant from everyone -- including himself. Snape is reunited with someone from his past. Draco's life spirals out of control. Love blooms, and strange alliances are made. Black wings bring strange dreams. What wonders can wireless music and a little wandless magic work? HP/GW, RW/HG, SB/RL (slashy), DM/PP, BW/FD, NT/OC (slashy), PW/PC, SS/OC, AW/MW. Snape, Petunia, Draco, and Pansy redemption. Songfic. Illustrated. WARNING: includes graphic descriptions of self-harm. This fic DOES NOT encourage such behavior, but if you are bothered by the idea of Harry harming himself, even when it's portrayed as something he has to *overcome*, then do not read this fic.

Chapter 19

Chapter Summary:
Lupin and Snape have a long talk, Fae mingles and slips someone a mickey, Petunia learns of Vernon's fate, while those at Grimmauld Place learn of Draco and Pansy's role in the Battle of Robert's Grove. R/Hr, SS/OC, D/P, hints of H/G. Snape, Draco, Pansy, and Petunia redemption.
Posted:
05/12/2005
Hits:
2,277
Author's Note:
Looooong chapter. Best get yourself a snack and hit the loo first.

Dumbledore tried to lay a comforting hand on the grieving widow's shoulder, but Petunia pulled away, her eyes burning through him with accusation.

"This is all your fault! You ... you freaks! You a-and your magic did this to him!"

Dumbledore felt for the woman, he really did, but it wouldn't serve either of them or Harry, for him to back down before her now, and let her reaffirm her old beliefs. Harry had made too much progress with her; he wasn't about to let that be lost. As much as he hated to do it, he had to be a leader before he could be a friend.

"It is not my magic that did this to him, any more than it is your air that you are breathing, Petunia," he told her. "I am sorry for your loss, but it is Voldemort you must blame for this, not all of Wizard kind. If you do blame all wizards, then will you blame Harry as well? For I assure you he never asked to have a killer come after him or his family. I did warn you, when you took Harry in, that the man who had killed his parents would one day come after him as well -- and that your family might be in danger as well.

"I know what you're thinking," he went on when she didn't reply. "It was quiet for so long, you had stopped thinking about the possibility of your family being in danger, you never really believed they would come to harm. And now part of you wishes you'd never taken Harry in. You think that, if you'd really believed this might be the end result, you wouldn't have. But you didn't toss Harry out after the dementors attacked your son, did you? Ask yourself, Petunia: was it because you were afraid of my letter? Or because my letter helped remind you of what danger your nephew was in, and why you had taken him in in the first place?"

Petunia felt like she was being shoved inside her blender. The magic-hating façade she had worn for so long had cracked during the dream she'd had about Lily, and crumbled away as she finally, finally got to know her nephew. But with her husband lying dead before her, she found she still had the pieces, and it was oh so tempting to glue that façade back together. And as her insides seemed to squirm about, something occurred to her. A terrible something.

"Where is my son?" she whispered, her eyes wide with both fear and anger, the dangerous kind of a mother protecting her young.

Dumbledore resisted the urge to close his eyes in pain. "We don’t know; was he supposed to be with your husband?"

"You don’t know?! Of course he was with his father -- they were on a father-son camping trip! You didn’t even look for him?"

Once again Dumbledore was reminded of how little he knew, no matter how he tried to stay on top of things. Once again he felt the sick lurch in his stomach of another innocent paying the price because he hadn't killed Riddle when he'd had the chance.

"We didn’t even know that your husband was at the battle site until we were gathering the dead, and I happened to recognized him. I assure you I'd had no earthly idea that I would find him there -- if I had known, I would have made his safety my personal priority. We only knew that Voldemort had called his minions to a Dark Revel; we essentially went in blind. You are not the only one to have suffered losses this night, Petunia." He glanced about the room for emphasis. "I know each and every wizard here, and counted them all among my friends."

Petunia paled as she took in what he was saying. She held desperately to her anger, lest the horror around her should smother her, sap her of what little strength she had left. But despite herself, her anger was fading fast as she realised that this man, this wizard, was suffering too. He was right; how could she blame him? Would she act this way towards him if he had been a "normal" man, a police officer, bringing such bitter news?

She remembered her thoughts of the day before, when she'd come to understand that, even if no one else used magic, there would always be someone who would. This man and his friends were trying to stop someone who was doing just that -- at a terrible cost. Without them, what defense would they have? Hadn't she told herself that Harry had never asked for this lot in life? Didn’t that go for these other wizards as well? Surely these other tables held husbands, wives, sons, and daughters that had loved ones who were waiting for them at home? People who might have magic powers, but would still feel the same anguish of loss that she was feeling now?

The old Petunia might have blamed Harry and his parents for bringing such horror and grief into her life. Now, as she looked on the dead, she understood that it could have been anyone's husband lying on the table before her. And in understanding that, she also knew that it could still have been Vernon lying there, even if she had never had a sister who knew magic, and had never taken in a wizard of a nephew.

* * *

From his chair, Snape watched The Boy's chest rise and fall, wondering idly when the last time Harry had actually had a decent night's sleep had been. Fae had given The Boy a Dreamless Sleep potion, so now he finally looked peaceful.

Of course, if you asked Snape if he was actually feeling sorry for The Boy, the answer would be a solid "no". Even if it wasn't exactly the truth.

"Yeh know, for a man who hates children, yeh sure spend an awful lot of time lookin' after 'em, Sevy" Fae mused, watching him through hooded eyes.

Snape only grunted. Fae smiled.

Lupin came over and plopped wearily down on the bed, next to the Potions Mistress.

"Yer mate over there doin' any better?" she asked the werewolf.

He nodded. "Much. We couldn't get her to wake up before; I'm still not sure why she finally did, but I'm not going to complain."

"Mmmm, that's because you don’t mind that noise she calls music," Snape drawled, sparing a glance for the Metamorphamagus, who was deep in conversation with Shacklebolt, Molly, and the stranger with purple hair.

"Severus, must you always try to be so unpleasant?" Lupin admonished.

Fae laughed. "Oh, he doesn't need to try, Remus, it just comes naturally. But we love him anyway," she added, with a twinkle in her eye.

Snape tried unsuccessfully to look unaffected by the remark, the pink tingeing his cheeks giving him away.

Fae smirked. "Well, I dunna know 'bout you lot, but I'm bloody famished!" she announced, rising to her feet. "Anyone want any nosh from the pantry?"

"Tea would be nice. ..." Lupin answered, smiling -- and apparently already forgetting his silent vow not to accept any beverages from the Potions Mistress.

She nodded "Molly, Poppy, how about you or your friends?" she called across the room. The small group all shook their heads. The rest of the impromptu clinic was mostly empty save for a few sleeping individuals, the rest of the injured having been fixed up and sent on their way. Finally, Fae glanced at Snape. "Sevy?"

"Thanks, but no. I'm still tasting that dinner you had Tom try to poison me with."

She granted him a feral smile, then made her way out of the room, humming as she went, her hips swaying hypnotically.

"Sevy, huh?" Lupin asked.

Snape moaned and covered his eyes with his hand, shaking his head. "I've long since given up trying to stop her from calling me that. I even gave her detention over it once."

Lupin quirked a brow. "Detention? She was a student of yours?" Lupin had only recently met the woman, when Dumbledore had inducted her into the Order.

Snape let his arm fall and leaned back against his chair, still watching Harry but clearly seeing something else. "She was in her seventh year when I started my first year of teaching at Hogwarts. She was always very flirtatious, but I thought she was just trying to ensure she got a good grade -- not that she needed to, mind, she was always excellent in potions. But she insisted on calling me 'Sevy' no matter how often I told her not to. So I gave her detention for being disrespectful.

"I had her scrubbing the dungeon floor -- the Muggle way. She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, though. Wouldn’t shut up, either. I told her she was there to work, not annoy me, and besides, I was working on a potion that required the utmost concentration. So she hummed. I told her to stop that, too -- and she did, for a few minutes, but she just couldn’t seem to stay stopped. She didn’t even seem to realise she was doing it in the first place. And at one point I found myself so distracted that I made a mistake with the potion I was working on. Or at least, I almost did. She must have been watching me, because the next thing I knew, she was knocking the bottle out of my hand. I was furious, until I realised what vial I'd been holding. If I’d have added what was in it to the potion, it would have made a poisonous fog that would have killed us both, and probably a few more people before it faded. I haven’t argued with her about calling me Sevy since that day." Snape didn’t know why he was telling all this to Lupin.

The werewolf eyed him thoughtfully. "It sounds like you two were close."

What Snape meant to say in reply was "It's none of your goddamn business!" But what came out was a hesitant "We were friends ..."

"Nothing more?"

Snape gave Lupin a look that would have done a basilisk proud. "You mean the way you and Black were?" he sneered.

"Yes."

Snape blinked. "Wait ... you mean you two really were... ?"

"Well, I can’t speak for Sirius, but ... yeah. I fancied my best friend. Even when I thought he'd murdered Peter and a dozen other people, I don’t think I ever stopped loving him." Lupin got a far away look in his eye as he remembered the dream he'd had by the fire. If only it hadn't been a fevered imagining. ... His throat tight, he asked, with false cheer, "So what happened with you and Fae?"

Hearing Lupin's revelation was like being given a dose of Veritaserum; Snape almost felt he didn’t have a right to hold anything back. "Nothing happened. I told myself it was wrong to pursue her, because I was a teacher and she was still a student -- even if there was only a few years separating us and she was about to graduate. But ... she didn’t know me. Didn’t know the ... company I had kept. I haven't had many people in my life who genuinely seemed to want to be around me. It helped me, you know? Having someone to talk to that didn’t look at me with contempt, fear, or pity?" Lupin grimaced apologetically, but Snape was still looking at Harry. "So I kept her at arm's length, believing that, if she didn’t learn the truth, there was less risk of losing her. Except I did lose her, didn’t I? She grew tired of waiting for me to meet her advances, I think. When I recommended her to St. Mungo's Potions Research department, she leapt at the opportunity, like she couldn’t wait to get far away from me. She left, and I didn’t hear a peep from her again until Dumbledore asked her to take over Potions."

"So what happened when you finally saw each other again?"

Snape looked bemused. "She acted like not more than a day had passed, like things had never gone sour. She's been flirtatious as ever. So I got up the nerve to tell her about my ... history, because I didn’t think there was a chance of keeping it secret now that she's in the Order -- and I find out that she already knew I was a Death Eater, even back then!"

Lupin's other brow went up now. "So now what?"

Snape snorted. "'So now what' what? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most sociable person in the world. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now! I spend most of my days in the dungeon, like I always have, so I still don’t see her much. Hell, I don’t even know if she is interested -- she could be like that with everyone."

"You could ask her."

"And if she's not, it still wouldn’t make any difference. Dumbledore's always fond of telling me that, in order to be loved, you have to 'love yourself first'," he said, making a sour face. "If she does fancy me, she's better off finding someone ... happier."

Lupin smiled ruefully. "I do believe you've hit the nail on the head."

Snape scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, I know we were absolutely rotten to you when we were in school, and I'm not making excuses, but ... well, to be blunt, you never were the nicest of people, Severus. You didn’t seem to want friends. And I think a lot of it had to do with self-confidence. Do you know why everyone adored that lying prat, Lockehart?"

Snape scoffed. "I didn't like him."

"Yes, well, while I'm sure the fact that you have a much-larger-than-average intelligence is mostly responsible for that, I'm also sure some of it has to do with the fact that you don’t love hardly anyone," Lupin told him dryly. "But my point is that he exuded confidence. He was outgoing, immaculate, he carried himself well -- everything about him asked 'How can you not love me?' Even though in reality he was a despicable human being, people were often overcome by his charms. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to give a rat's arse about your health or grooming -- not even for your own sake. And if you don’t care about yourself, why should anyone else?"

Snape was about to tell Lupin that he was one to talk, but thought better of it: the reason Lupin always looked haggard was because of his "illness" and his monetary state, things that couldn’t be easily helped. Snape didn’t have an excuse like that. So he sat silently for a moment, scowling while he took Lupin's words in.

"I'm not wearing satin or chiffon," he said finally.

Lupin sighed. "I'm not saying that you have to dress like a ponce! Just ... show a little effort, Severus. Make a show of actually caring whether you live or die, and I think you'll find that others will too."

"And if I don't?" Snape asked quietly.

Lupin considered him for a moment. "If you don't make the effort, or if you don't care if you live or die?" he asked just as quietly.

Snape shrugged. "It's all the same in the end, isn't it?"

Lupin gave him a patronizing look. "Who got to you before the Maurauders, Severus? Who taught you to hate yourself so much from the beginning? Was it your father? Was he the one who first made you feel like you weren't worth anything?"

"I suppose it was," Snape answered dully. "He was a typical pureblood father, proud and vindictive. We weren't rich, which frustrated him no end: he was often drunk. If he wasn't beating my mother, he was beating me. And I vowed I wouldn’t waste my life like he did; I wouldn't whine about what I didn't have, or spend all my time trying to dull the pain of my existence with alcohol; I'd find a way to get what I wanted. I'd become a powerful wizard, make a name for myself.

"And then your lot came along," Snape went on, "and it seemed like none of you ever had to work for anything; it all came so easily to you. And then there was Evans: magic wasn't her heritage, and yet she excelled at it, far beyond those of us who were born to it. Yet, in spite of myself, of how I hated what she represented, I couldn’t help but love her."

Lupin started at that.

"Yes, Lupin, Severus Snape was in love with a Muggle-born. Who wasn't? She was smart, friendly, beautiful, kind. It drove me mad that I felt that way about her, when my entire life I had been taught to believe that Muggle-borns and Muggles were beneath me. I even made the mistake of asking her out in our sixth year. Of course by then I had well-earned her animosity, but that didn’t make being turned down by a Muggle-born any easier for my pride to take. I’d dug myself a pit, and just kept digging deeper and deeper. ..."

"Seems to me it was your father who started the hole, Severus -- he just taught you how to dig. And the fact that your father wasn't the most worthy human being in the world should make his opinion mean a lot less to you now, shouldn’t it? It's simple Maths: if he said that Muggle-borns were 'unworthy' and was wrong, then he was wrong when he told you you were worthless too!"

Snape smiled ruefully. "It must be so nice in that daisy-filled world inside your head, Lupin."

Lupin chortled. "Watch it, or I might think you actually like me, Severus!"

"Perish the thought, 'Moony'. …"

Molly, who had heard quite a bit of the conversation from her place at the foot of Tonks' bed, smiled at the as-yet uneasy camaraderie that was slowly forming between the old enemies.

* * *

When Fae had reached the kitchen, she'd found it already rather crowded with people celebrating, despite the fact that they hadn't really defeated Voldemort. Her younger cousins all hugged her -- Bill, Charlie, and Percy hadn't seen her in a fair number of years, and she'd only recently re-acquainted herself with the twins, when they'd moved into Diagon Alley. When the pleasantries were done, they filled her in on the dashing exploits of Percy. She wore a satisfied smile as she listened to the tale; she might not have seen the boyos in a long while, but she had talked to Molly and Arthur often enough, especially after joining the Order, and knew how much they'd missed their estranged son.

When the tale was finally through, the denizens of the kitchen broke back up into the splinter groups she'd found them in when she'd arrived. The twins and their friends from their Quidditch days flocked about the stairs as they relived old plays. Bill, Charlie, and Fluer spoke only slightly more sedately as they caught Percy up with the events of the past year. Fae noted the loving glances Bill and Fluer frequently exchanged; she felt a bittersweet pang as she thought of the solitude she'd endured since leaving Hogwarts, but squelched the thought the moment she recognised it, moving her attention to other, quieter areas of the room. Moody and several of the more senior members of the Order mulled over the night's events, nursing glasses of firewiskey and worse.

Despite all the talk, though, she still caught the sound of muttering coming from the boiler room. Peaking inside, she found the sole remaining house elf of the House of Black, Kreacher. It was decidedly unhappy about the noise the revelrers were making -- and the simple fact that they were there at all. It didn't seem to even notice that she could hear every word it said as it besmirched her prescence. She smiled a lazy smile, and began to hum.

Kreacher stopped in mid-word, promptly falling over into a deep sleep. Still humming, she plucked yet another bangle from her waist, tapping the contents into the house-elf's now-snoring mouth. He smacked his lips together, then went back to snoring. Satisfied he was out and likely to stay that way for the night, she stopped humming and shut the door.

The way she figured it, if Dumbledore wasn't going to let any of them do the foul thing in, then keeping it sedated was the kindest thing she could do, for both it's sake and theirs.

Realising she had kept Lupin waiting a while now, she hurriedly fixed three cups (the extra was just in case someone changed his mind about having some) of Spring Cherry, one of her favorite teas, dosing each cup with a liberal amount of honey. She put the three cups, the honey jar, the cannister of teabags, and a pot of hot water on a tray, carefully floating it over the heads of those loitering on the stairs. She told herself she just wanted to get the tea to her companions before it turned cold -- mindless of the fact that they could easily reheat it with magic -- and not because she was in a hurry to rejoin the company of one man in particular for whom she's prepared a cup of tea he'd already sad he didn’t want.

* * *

As time had gone by, Draco's sobs had eased, his breathing both slowing and deepening.

"I think he's asleep," Ginny whispered finally, still stroking his hair like she'd seen her mother do countless times for her and her siblings. But even as she was feeling pity and a duty of sorts to comfort the poor boy, there was another young man she was thinking of, one she also wanted to comfort, but whose presence she was constantly being denied. Are you all right, Harry?

"Oh great," Ron muttered, glaring at the fine pale locks buried in the hippogriff's feathery side. "We're back to square one. I'm telling you, I'm not carrying him!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, haven't you ever heard of a Levitation Spell? Honestly!" But she couldn't help but smile at the recent memory of the Weasley boy carrying his best friend in his arms at the Leaky Cauldron, as if Harry were no burden at all, but rather something precious to be cared for and held close to the heart. She cared for Harry and Ron as much, albeit in different ways -- and she was starting to believe Ron might care just as deeply for her. It made her feel all the more sad for Draco at that moment. Had enyone ever cared that way for him? Then she remembered something Lucius had said. Maybe Pansy ... I wonder where she is now?

* * *

When Lupin and Snape's conversation had lulled into silence, Snape took the opportunity to lean his chair back and close his eyes for a moment. He hadn't had a moment to rest, let his guard down, all day, not since his visit to Draco. …

His chair landed with a hard thunk that rattled his teeth when he jerked to attention. His hands gripped the arms of the chair like vises, his knuckles white, as he practically threw himself to his feet, crying "Draco! Pansy!!" He scanned the occupants of the nearby beds.

Lupin's eyes grew wide as he too came to his feet. "Molly, what did you do with Draco? Did anyone bring Pansy in?"

Molly put a hand to her mouth. "Oh! He must still be in the kitchen, the poor dear! But who's Pansy?"

Not bothering to ask what Molly had to do with Draco or why she felt a Malfoy was a poor anything, Snape charged out of the room and ran into Fae's floating tea tray. He gave a yelp as the hot liquid soaked into his robes.

"Oh, changed your mind did you?" Fae asked before waving her hand and saying Scourgify in a sing-song voice. She thought Snape was simply in search of victuals until she took in the panicked look on his face. "Sevy?"

Before he could answer, she caught sight of a bizarre scene making its way down the hall. "What on earth are you three doin'?" she asked. "Who's that now, and what have yeh done to him?"

Snape looked behind himself and found Draco floating feet-first just a yard away. "Draco!" He scrambled to the young man's side and took him in arms. "Put him down!" he snapped at Hermione, and almost stumbled under the sudden weight as she obeyed, ending her Levitation. He carried the boy into the infirmary to the bed just before Harry's, and laid him down with a tenderness no one in the room but Fae would ever have believed of him. Lupin, Molly, and Madam Pomfrey came to stand on the opposite side, between Draco's bed and Harry's.

Spotting Ron, Ginny, and Hermione filing in behind Snape, Molly snapped "What happened?" at the same moment that Snape asked the same question of Lupin. Lupid was much faster on the draw than the kids, though, as he feared the ex-Potions Master far less than they feared Mrs. Weasley.

"We're not entirely sure, Severus. All I know is that I saw Malfoy use the Killing Curse on his father," -- Molly and Poppy gasped, while Snape looked green -- "and then passed out. I brought him here quick as I could, then went back to help the others. Did he say anything to you, Molly?"

"No, he seemed to be in a great deal of shock. Oh, and it's no wonder, the poor lamb!"

And indeed, laying there quietly, his skin pale and eyes rimmed with red, Draco Malfoy seemed a very pitiable figure, even to Ronald Weasley, who was trying very hard to remember all the hateful things Draco had said to him over the years, but couldn't seem to remove the image of the boy, sobbing his eyes out in despair, from his mind.

"What about Pansy?" Snape asked weakly, feeling as though a great big stone had settled most uncomfortably in his stomach. Oh Draco, would that I could have spared you this, having to kill Lucius yourself! I should have been the one to do it, should have done it long ago ...

Lupin exchanged a look with Molly and the nurse, but both women shrugged and shook their heads. "I know that Dumbledore said she was helping, but I never saw her there. I'm sorry, Severus. ..."

Ron and Hermione shared a dumbfounded glance. Pansy Parkinson, helping the Order? Did that mean Malfoy had been at the battle as a friend to them as well? What about the Dark Mark? Now that they thought about it, he didn't really seem to be glad to have gotten it. Hadn't he said something about his mother trying to prevent it?

And almost more importantly, to Ron's mind: if Malfoy and Parkinson had been fighting for the Order, why had they, who were certainly not the most trustworthy people in the world, been allowed to join, but he, Harry, and Hermione had not?

Hearing Snape's snarl of agitation, Ron decided the answer could wait.

For his part, Snape was upset because Dumbledore was no longer there, was off doing something with the Muggle woman. Dare he contact the Headmaster, to ask after Pansy? It might not be a good time to interrupt him, and, truth be told, the man probably didn't know anything anyway. Who did that leave?

Snape pulled his Communication Glass out of his pocket. "Moody? Moody, come in!"

"Put that ruddy thing away, Snape!" snapped a gruff voice from the door. Alastor Moody hobbled his way into the room. "We've had operatives combing every inch of Robert's grove. All we've found so far was Parkinson's Communication Glass -- lying in a puddle of blood."

Snape turned white as a sheet, and the other adults closed their eyes in pity. Hermione and Ginny let out strangled cries, and Ron grabbed Hermione's hand, holding it tight. Ginny, who had made her way over to the uncrowded side of Harry's bed, had already been holding The Boy Who Lived's hand, and was now threatening to wake him up with her grip. None of them had liked Pansy, but this was still someone they knew, someone they had gone to school with, someone who -- remarkably -- had been on their side, and now had apparently died a horrible death. It could have been any one of them. ...

Apparently not content with Moody's answer, Snape held out his hand and snapped "Portkeys."

Raising a brow, Moody didn't ask what Snape meant. After a moment of considering, he nodded, took a candlestick and a porcelain figure from the mantle, and made two Portkeys, one to Robert's Grove and one back to Grimmauld Place, in case he found Pansy.

Mumbling his thanks (which earned him another quirked brow), Snape took hold of the 'Keys and activated the one to the campground, noticing too late that Fae had grabbed onto him.

At the same time that Snape and Faelyn disappeared, Dumbledore and Petunia stumbled in from the fireplace. The Headmaster led the haggard woman over to the bed next to Harry's, the one farther from the door and closer to the fireplace. To the three conscious youngsters, it seemed the man had aged a thousand years in one night.

"Poppy? Some Dreamless Sleep potion, if you please?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and hurried over with a cupful.

Mrs. Dursely seemed reluctant to drink the mix, though. "I want to be awake when you find my Dudley," she told Dumbledore.

He nodded. "And you will be, I can wake you easily enough. But you are exhausted, and it won't help your son or your nephew if you fall ill," he reminded her.

She glanced over at the next bed, and into the eyes of the young girl kneeling next to it. Her eyes grew wide as she saw long red hair -- for a good, long moment thought she was seeing a young Lily! But then she realised that the face was all wrong. She remembered it vaguely from the photo album Harry had shown her -- it seemed like a lifetime ago. There was little question that this was the girl Ginny, whose honor Ron had defended in the street. Seeing her holding Harry's hand as she was, Petunia remembered suddenly the necklace Harry had bought in the shop and slipped into his pocket. That was the last thought she had before the potion stole her consciousness.

Albus finally turned his attention from the new widow to the worried faces that had been watching him so intently. But it was a face that wasn't watching him at all that caught his own eye.

"Is young Malfoy all right?" he asked the group.

"He's not injured, but I think he's in shock," Molly replied. "Lupin says Draco killed his own father, but we don’t know why--"

"Yes we do!" Ron chimed in from his spot next to Hermione, on the bed across from Harry's.

"Ron?" his mother asked, surprised.

Lupin's eyes widened in understanding. The kids had been the ones to find Draco; it hadn’t occurred to him until just then that the boy might have been conscious when they'd found him, and spoken to them.

"Well, when we got here, Ginny brought us up to the attic, 'cause she'd found Draco up there unconscious, and was afraid Buckbeak might have hurt him. But he didn’t!" Ron added hurriedly. "I dunno why Draco'd passed out, probably just afraid, the git--"

"Ron!" Hermione warned.

Scowling at her, he continued,"At any rate, he had this stuffed bunny in his hand, see--"

Ginny held up the toy.

"--and Buckbeak got mad when we tried to look at it, and Draco woke up, and he was really disoriented, was askin' us things like if he was a prisoner, and stuff that didn’t make any sense. Then he started sayin' he was sorry, over and over, completely starkers, I'm telling you--"

"Ron!" Hermione chided him again.

"Oh all right, you bloody tell it then!"

Hermione gave Ron a firm glance before picking up the story, pointedly ignoring the smirk on Ginny's face. "So we were trying to decide what to do when we heard music coming from downstairs. Ginny said that there must be someone in her room, because she had turned the wireless off. Draco heard the music, and asked what it was saying--"

"And what was it saying?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring the puzzled glance the other adults gave him.

Hermione repeated the lyrics, then told him what she'd told Draco, that the song was about a girl killing her father. "And that's when Lucius Malfoy's ghost came into the room!"

"What??" the adults, even Dumbledore, asked in alarm.

Hermione quickly told them the rest of the tale, remembering every word spoken between the father and son in perfect detail, as well as telling how the music changed again and again, in a fashion only an extremely deranged disc-jockey might achieve. She noted that Dumbledore didn’t seem at all surprised or confused about the music -- even seemed to have expected it -- and made a mental note to do some reading up herself on music used in magic later. The Headmaster did, however, seem a bit surprised when she described the behavior of Draco's Patronus, going so far as to say "Astonishing!"

"So we now know that Draco killed Lucius because the man threatened Pansy," Lupin remarked. "Do you know what happened to her, sir? All we know is that Moody's people found her Communication Glass in a puddle of blood, and nothing else."

A look of horror swept across Dumbledore's face, before he cast his eyes to the floor in a weary sort of grief. "No, I'm afraid I don’t know anything about her fate. I do know that her parents were killed, along with Harry's uncle." Albus thought to himself that if he started saying he was sorry now and didn’t stop until the end of time, it would still never feel like he'd made amends enough. …

Molly bit her lip and glanced at the Muggle woman, feeling pangs of pity, as well as regret for how she'd treated the woman. If she had lost Arthur this night …

Hermione was having similar feelings as she watched Draco Malfoy's sleeping form. She's heard the rage in his voice as he talked about Pansy to Lucius -- he must have loved her far more than any of them would have believed him capable of if he had killed his own father to protect her! And yet apparently the girl was killed anyway. If Hermione had lost Ron that way. … As if reading her thoughts, Ron squeezed her hand. She glanced at him, but his troubled eyes were fixed on his school rival.

A soft, gentle tune wafted into the room, but no one seemed to notice.

"Where's Severus and Faelyn?" Albus asked wearily.

"They went to look for Pansy," Molly told him, sounding equally tired.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I think I'll join him," he decided finally. He could look for Petunia's son as well. He Disapparated with a crack.

Molly sighed. "I do wish the lot of them would get some sleep." She glanced at Lupin, Pomfrey, and the kids. "That goes for us, too. Go on now, get up stairs."

Ron scowled. "We can sleep just as well in here! They are!" He gestured to where Shacklebolt and the purple-haired stranger lay crashed out on the beds to either side of Tonks'. "There's hardly anyone left in here now; it's not like we'll be in the way!"

Too tired to come up with a rebuttal, she grudgingly agreed to let them all sleep where they were -- or close to it, anyway. Hermione stayed where she was (or rather, returned to that spot, after she called her parents, saying that she and Ron had brought an ill Harry to Grimmauld Place, and that she didn’t really want to leave her friend. Her mum and dad were very understanding. They also made her come fetch Crookshanks, who was getting anxious for his mistress.) Ron moved to the bed next to the one he had been sitting on with Hermione, across from Draco's, while Ginny (after placing the rabbit toy in the sleeping Malfoy's arms) took the one across from Petunia. Lupin refused a bed, instead transfiguring the chair between Harry and Petunia's bed so that it was more comfortable, with an ottoman. Pomfrey did the same, to the chair between Draco and Harry, while Molly went to spend some time with her other children in the kitchen, then went off to the room she shared with her husband. The twins, Lee, and Oliver slept in the twin's old room, while Bill and Charlie shared Ron's room, and Fluer, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia claimed Ginny's. And Grimmauld Place was, at last, quiet for the night, save for that gentle lullaby, which played long into the darkness.

* * *

Pansy hissed at the ache in her arms as she shifted position. Why were her arms above her head? And why couldn’t she lower them? Coming into awareness a little more, she realised her hands were tied. Thinking for a moment that she was back at Parkinson Manor, playing some sort of boudoir game with Draco, she murmured "Love, could you loosen the ropes a bit? My arms are getting stiff." Wait a minute. ... She might have thought about that sort of thing before, but she and Draco had never actually ...

Her eyes snapped open. She let out a little scream at the sight that greeted her.

[Pansy, caught by Wormtail ...]

"Sorry, pet," Wormtail told her, not actually sounding sorry at all, "but our lord has lost all the bait he's willing to today without catching a nice big Potter-fish for his trouble."

"Bait?" She looked around, but it was so dark, all she could really see was Pettigrew's face, lit up by a wand. The ground felt rough and uneven beneath her; were they still outside? Why did the air seem so stuffy?

And why the hell was she tied up, with Pettigrew referring to her as bait?

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He seemed almost cheery about it, really. "You see, I caught this Muggle when he was dragging you off--" he gestured with his wand amd revealed the fat Muggle boy in the nearby darkness "--and I knew the Dark Lord wanted him, but I didn’t want to risk Apparating with him, so I had to hide him, quickly. I found an abandoned squirrel nest in an old tree, did an Enlargement Spell on it to make it big enough for all three of us, levitated you and the Muggle inside, and then shrunk the entrance back down to it's real size, while leaving the inside big. Then I transfigured some thread into rope to tie the Muggle up and contacted the Dark Lord. Imagine my surprise when he said to tie you up as well! I thought he might want to punish you for allowing yourself to be caught by a Muggle -- and I suppose that may still be part of it -- but he said that Draco Malfoy was a traitor, and that he thought you might be, as well!"

Pansy felt as if she'd been gutted, but she still managed to be glib as she scoffed at him, saying, "Oh, sure I am! I just love Old Stumbledore and his Golden Potty! For that matter, what makes him think Draco's a traitor?"

"Well, he did choose to kill his father, one of our allies, when he should have been catching the Muggle."

And then she remembered it: Draco pointing his wand at his father, the flash of green light through the haze of red as she struggled for air, before finally passing out. Oh, Draco! It was only years of practice at acting that saved her now from being betrayed by her own emotions. "You have no idea what a prat his father was, do you?" she quipped. "But let's say Draco is a traitior: what's that got to do with me?"

"Oh, come off it, everyone could tell how much you fancy each other! So our Lord uses you to bring Draco here -- and if he is in league with Potter, maybe him>, too."

"I thought that was what the Muggle was for!"

"Yeah, well, we're not entirely sure Potter would bother saving the bloke, so consider yourself added insurance. Besides, even if Malfoy's not a traitor, the Dark Lord is right brassed off at him right now, and wants to punish 'im no matter what."

"Ha! It's not like Draco would come to rescue me; he only cares about himself!"

"Well, it's not going to hurt to try, is it? If you don’t work out as bait, I'm sure he'll find ..." he leaned in close, brushing her cheek with a silvery hand, "other uses for you."

[Pansy, caught by Wormtail ...]


Author notes: Wow, got the art done fair quickly for this one -- aren't you all lucky! :) Meant you got to read this chap that much sooner. ^_~ (As I type this, the *previous* chapter hasn't even gone up yet! Hope you all enjoyed it!)

Next chapter: FINALLY! Some Harry/Ginny!!! (I haven't done the art yet, but I think you'll like the subject. ^_~) Also a tasty bit of Ron/Hermione. It's the morning after the battle: Voldemort's NOT happy, Draco learns of Pansy's supposed fate and makes a run for it, Snape and Fae trade one search for another, and Dumbledore returns to Hogwarts.

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