Krum Do I Love?

Krum Do I Love? - Chapter 11

The Turncoat

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Before he was consumed by the sphere, Harry saw his curse hit its target. With the last of his vision, he watched Ron's body slouching lifelessly to the ground, and then he, too, fell.

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Harry felt silky linen surround his body. His head was resting on a soft feather- cushion. This felt a lot like Hogwarts' infirmary beds, only it couldn't have been one of those. He remembered only too well the events that had led him there. The Death Eaters; the sphere created by the Dark Mark on his arm when it touched Draco's and Ron's. Ron. He remembered cursing him. His heart cringed momentarily. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot Ron. Maybe not the last; he did have a choice. He could have shot Draco instead. But he was alive now. That meant Draco hadn't been trying to kill him. And that meant -

He didn't dare think of what that meant.

Harry heard a swish of a heavy cloak passing by him. "Good morning, Harry," came a shrill hiss by his ear.

Harry opened his eyes wide. The brilliant light that hit them was not sufficient to block out the dark image that stood so close to him. There was no doubt. Harry sat bolt upright. "Voldemort," he hissed.

"Yes, Harry." The hideous serpentine mouth curled up at him. "Welcome to our midst. You have just earned that mark you're bearing by killing the son of one of my greatest opponents. This will send Arthur Weasley a particularly clear message. Very well done."

Harry looked at him confused, his eyes as big as saucers. He checked to see if he was chained to the bed. He saw no chains; no manacles; no ropes - nothing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. There was no charm to stop him from doing that. Then again, he couldn't remember why he was expecting one. "I didn't mean to," he said, slowly shaking his head. "I thought he was trying to kill me."

"Of course he was trying to kill you," rasped the Dark Lord, his words slithering up Harry's spine. "He was a spy. He knew you are the greatest asset to our fight, and so he tried to get rid of you." His long, white finger caressed Harry's feverish temple.

Harry looked down. The words made sense. Something in the back of his head was shouting, but he couldn't make out the words. He got up and stood beside his - what was he to him? His Mentor. Yes, that made sense as well.

Voldemort smiled again and pointed to a large wardrobe by the far wall. "Get dressed," he suggested. "And then join me at the reception hall. There will be a servant outside waiting to escort you there."

"Thank you," Harry expressed his gratitude. "I will."

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Hermione lay on her side, curled up into a tiny ball, shivering against the cold flagstones. There was a grate in the otherwise bare dungeon room where she was held, but the embers in it had all turned to ashes. It had been hours since Pettigrew had put the fire out. At the time, she had been happy he did. The images he had showed her had been horrible.

She had first seen Ron, sitting comfortably with a group of Death Eaters, happily reading about himself in the front page of yesterday's Daily Prophet. That had been bad enough, but in some remote corner of her mind, she had expected that. Much worse was Harry.

He was talking to the Dark Lord. She couldn't understand a word they were saying. They weren't using English. They were hissing Parseltongue at each other. Their rasping, wheezing voices sounded threatening, but their behaviour was something else. By how friendly they were towards each other, it made sense that they would use a language preserved only for the darkest wizards. Harry seemed almost happy. He was certainly obedient.

Then came Draco's turn. This was the worst of all. Harry was her best friend; the great hope of the wizarding world; a tremendous loss for their side. But Draco was the one she loved. She felt her heart torn out of her chest and stomped upon by a herd of Death Eaters. Actually, one Death Eater was all it took; the one Draco was talking to; the one he was so warmly embracing; the one he was supposed to hate with a passion: his father. She thought he had tried to kill her love. How wrong she was. Pettigrew had explained the charade to her. They had just needed to buy a little more time with Harry. Time to make him understand to which side he belonged. Now that he had seen the light, or rather, the darkness, there was no need to put on a show any longer. Draco had a lot of catching up to do with his old man.

Hermione wasn't even aware that she was crying. She just noticed the wet puddle under her face. And then, she sat up, wiping her damp cheek with her sleeve. Comprehension decorated her face like golden sparks on a fairy's wings. Of course. How come she hadn't thought of that before? She was almost willing to accept the fact that Ron had turned over. She knew it was possible Draco had fooled her, although it pained her horribly to accept that as an option. But Harry - there was no power in the world that could make Harry switch sides. Not of his own free will.

Holding on to that thought, she smiled.

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Even before he opened the door to his chambers, he knew she would be waiting for him in there. His master had told him she would, and his master never lied. His methods were highly controversial, but he was a man true to his word. Well, not exactly a man. He was something true to its word.

And there she was, lying comfortably on his large four-poster, still wearing the skimpy leather outfit Draco had put her in. Her long black curls were spread under her thin hourglass figure. She propped herself on one elbow as he entered, and offered him a sheepish smile.

"Saitaina," Ron said in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat and made his way towards her. The long walk allowed him to wash his eyes with the lovely sight of her. Like the rest of the room, she was all black and white. Her pale skin matched the heavy white drapes perfectly, and contrasted the ebony bed. He sat on the decorated floor, very close to her, their faces separated by only a few inches of crisp air.

"I missed you," she said.

"We hardly even met," Ron frowned at her.

"I still missed you." She moved her body on the bed, getting even closer to him. "I've never seen anyone fight quite like you. You got at least five people down before they managed to curse you."

"Ten." Ron smiled at her. "And I let them get me. That was the deal."

"That was very brave." She looked at him with admiration.

Ron brushed a stray curl away from her eyes and left his hand on the side of her face. He felt he'd earned this pleasant respite. He had spent the entire morning recovering from Harry's nasty curse. He felt lucky to have survived it, and wanted to get the best of every moment he had. She raised herself higher on her elbow, putting her chest against his, allowing their cheeks to touch.

Ron became drunk with her scent. There was a taste of honey in his mouth and he felt surrounded by a cloud of golden sparks. He had to have more of her. He sank his face in the hollow of her neck and began kissing her, slowly working his way towards her bare shoulders and then lower...

She rolled on her back, gently prodding him to follow, and he did, while still covering her with kisses. The honey-taste increased by order of magnitude with every kiss. And with every whiff of her scent, everything but her was wiped away from his thoughts. She was all that existed in the world.

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"You called, My Lord?"

"Indeed I have, my dear Wormtail." The venom in the Dark Lord's voice sounded even more vicious than ever. The small man recoiled before his master. "What is this thing, Wormtail?" The Master pointed towards his silver grate.

Wormtail looked at it and shrivelled some more. He would have changed places with anyone right now. Even that unlucky Muggle-born girl he had just left. Between the green tongues of fire, he could see the image of two grown men playing Exploding Snap. Their pack of cards exploded as he tried to think of an explanation. "Those are Black and Fletcher, Master," he said bluntly.

"Are they, Wormtail?" the hissing grew louder. "Are you sure? Because the real Black and Fletcher are supposed to be -" He stopped to move closer to his loyal servant making the last word whiz into his ear, "Dead".

"Yes, My Lord," whimpered the hunched servant, "They should have been -"

"They look very alive to me!" The Dark Lord cut him off. "What happened while I was taking care of the Potter boy?"

"I have no idea, My Lord."

"Crucio," said the Master, his eyes glittering.

Wormtail squirmed and screeched. His body twisted, jerking around the room while he screamed his lungs out. Eventually, the fire in the Dark Lord's eyes subsided, and he let his wand down, leaving his servant panting on the floor.

When Wormtail failed to move, Voldemort gave him a brutal kick in the side of his ribcage. "Get up," he said harshly.

"Y - yes, Master," stammered Wormtail, using his silver arm to push himself off the hard pavement.

The Dark Lord pushed his wand under the unsteady man's chin and pulled him up. He continued to lift, until Wormtail was forced to stand on his tiptoes to look into his master's slit pupils. "I want you to get me Snape," he said, and with one swift motion removed his wand, causing Wormtail drop back to the floor.

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The door to her dark dungeon cell opened to reveal a line of twilight sunrays. Someone walked in. Although his face was hidden in the shadows, Hermione recognised him immediately by the crown of white-silver hair on his head. "Draco," she said, getting up.

After what she'd seen that morning, she was hesitant, but his moves were full of confidence. He crossed the room in two strides and held her tight to him, kissing her at length. His kiss was harsh, and while it still held the ability to melt her completely, something was amiss.

She pushed him gently, signalling that she wanted a short break, but his kisses just grew hungrier. She pushed a little harder, but to no avail. Eventually, she struggled out of his hands, using her fingernails to assist her.

Draco stood in front of her, one hand on his slightly bleeding neck, a lot more blood in his eyes. "What's the matter?" he asked in an icy voice. "I though you wanted me. We're just picking up where we stopped in the Forest."

"Not like this, I don't," Hermione answered, still trying to figure out if this was the real him. Was he putting an act then, or was he, too, under the Imperius Curse or some Confundus Charm?

"Sure you do," he mocked, taking her in his arms again, this time pinning her arms to the sides of her body. It took her knee, well aimed, to get out of his grip.

"You ungrateful little Mudblood!" he shouted in rage. He slapped her hard across the face, sending her, tousle-haired and bleeding, to the floor. Hermione put her hand over her throbbing cheek. This method isn't working, she thought. I'm never going to get him to listen to me like this, I must think of another way.

Draco kneeled down next to her and pushed her hair out of her face. He moved his finger along the thin trickle of blood that ran down from the corner of her mouth. Then, he bent over, and kissed her again. Against her bruised lip, his firm kiss caused her pain, but she ceased her struggle. Instead, she pretended to accept him with open arms.

"That's much better," he drawled, and then went on with his assault.

She waited until he let go of her face and began moving downwards, allowing her to speak. "Draco, honey," she put all her will into making her voice sweet and unwavering. He made a muffled sound, a sign that he was listening. "Did you really mean what you said in the woods? The thing about respecting me?"

He raised his head just long enough to answer. "Of course I did." His fingers worked to undo the laces of her robes. Hermione breathed in relief, trying to ignore the waves of panic that spread from his hands where they violated her. If he still thought he was acting the same way he had in the Forbidden Forest, then there was no doubt someone had control over his mind. Now, the only question was how to break the spell.

She allowed her hands to roam his robes, searching for his wand, trying to smother the increasingly frequent shudders.

She began unbuttoning his inner layers, searching for hidden pockets. Finally, she found what she was looking for in his left side chest pocket. Her hand closed on it, and she began pulling it cautiously, hoping that in his passionate streak, Draco wouldn't notice her slow-moving hand.

But he did. His hand moved as quickly as a Billywig on the attack. He tore the wand out of her hand, jumped to his feet and pointed it to her. "Trying to curse me, are you?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Not at all," Hermione said, trying to contain her creeping fear. "I was just trying to add some spice to our little union."

"What kind of spice?" He eyed her suspiciously.

"Give me your wand and I'll show you."

"You know, for a witch who's supposed to be smart, you're not that bright," Draco sneered. "You should have known I wouldn't give you my wand."

Hermione sat up, thinking hard. "I just wanted to put an increased-sensor charm on us," she gave the first thing that came into her mind and also made some sense. The very first thing she though of, and immediately pushed away, had absolutely no value in the situation. What would he want with a hex that caused even the hottest shower to feel freezing cold for a week?

"All right," he said, his eyes bright. "Give me the words of the spell, and I'll put it on us."

Hermione nodded obediently. "But first, you have to finish any spell there is on us."

"I'm not under any spell." He looked at her as if she had just suggested something very obscene.

"It's just a safety guard," she insisted. "In case there's some residue of an old spell." She talked quickly, seeing him lose his patience. "The results could be horrific otherwise."

"If you insist." With a mocking look on her, he pointed his wand to himself and said, "finite incantatem." His dismissing smile instantly disappeared, replaced by a very surprised, very pale face. He sat down hard, his wand rolling away from him, clattering on the rough stone floor.

Hermione moved beside him and held his shaking figure tight, willing his shiver to stop. It took several minutes before he was able to speak. "What happened?" he asked.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were fighting Dr Branford and the Death Eaters he brought with him. Ron and I linked, and I could sense he was working against us." His effort to remember was visible. "He was trying to kill Harry!" he looked at her, overexcited.

Hermione held him again, whispering soothing words in his ear. "What happened then?" she asked once he was calm again.

"I had the weirdest dream," he said, frowning. "I was talking to my father, and then I was with you -" he stopped, his voice deepening, "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No."

He pushed her away gently, scanning her bruised face. "Oh my God," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"That's all right." She smiled at him tenderly.

Draco shook his head. "That's not all right at all. I never would have - I didn't mean to - Oh my God," he repeated.

"I know, I know," she said, patting his head as it rested on her shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything is just fine, now that you're back."

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The large room looked more like a seclusion chamber for couples than a school infirmary. Severus Snape looked through the window at the clouds, coloured red by the setting sun. Very little snow was left on the grounds, and if there were to be no snow the day after, the Quidditch pitch would be completely cleared. He brought his attention back to the room, and creased his nose at the sight.

Krum sat on Cho's bed where her pillow should have been. She rested her head on his knees and enjoyed his fingers, as they moved on her forehead. Ginny and Lee were sound asleep on the bed next to them. Ginny was curled up like a ball, and Lee held her from behind. Some of her ginger hair fell over his face, and he sniffed occasionally in his sleep, trying to get rid of the tickle.

Most bold of all were Sirius and Arabella, who had been necking incessantly for at least an hour. Their behaviour seemed revolting to Severus. The only reason he stayed around was that it made them uncomfortable, although they overcame their discomfort quite well.

Severus' forearm sent an unexpected pang through his body. Biting his lips, he folded up his sleeve, knowing that everyone present was either aware of his dark background, or too busy to notice. The Dark Mark was pitch black against his skin; he was being called.

Unfolding his sleeve, his face a shade paler than before, Severus headed for the infirmary door. The headmaster should be notified before he left. To his not so great surprise, the door opened before he could reach it. Dumbledore was known for his impeccable timing. It was either that, or the fact that they had set to meet there at about that time. Lupin was right at the headmaster's heels.

Dumbledore read the expression on Severus' face and required no further explanations. "Were you given a reason?" he asked.

"None."

"This may have to do with the children," Dumbledore suggested gravely. "They may have been captured again."

The last remark caught Sirius' attention, and he sat up in his bed, looking at the two conversing men. "I'd like to come," he said. "Harry is my godson. He's my responsibility."

"That's a fantastic idea, Black," Snape said sarcastically. "Oh, look Master, I'm a loyal Death Eater, I just happen to be escorted by Sirius Black. I think he'd love that."

"There must be a way I could help you."

"There is none." Severus enjoyed seeing Sirius' defeated face. "I'll bring your precious godson back safely. He and his friends will be fine." With a nod from Dumbledore, he approached the open infirmary door.

"Snape," Sirius called to his back. Severus turned to face the noticeably uneasy man. "Thanks."

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"Hullo, Draco." A sweet feminine voice greeted Draco as he entered his chambers.

After the Confundus Charm had been removed, he had hardly been able to remember where his chambers were, or what they looked like, but resolving not to let anyone know that he was no longer under the spell, he had somehow managed.

Now that he had entered his chambers, he wasn't at all surprised by the heavy green drapes, the quaint pine-wood furniture and the silver brackets that went all around the room, carrying odd-looking torches. He was just overwhelmed by how vast the room was and how many tall silver-decorated doors led to more of his rooms.

He wheeled around to the speaker. Saitaina was still in the mocking leather outfit he had charmed on her. He thought it would prevent her from going out of her secluded room. Obviously, he had been profoundly wrong. She was lying on her side on his velvety bedcover, giving him a seductive smile.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying not to sound too sober.

"I wanted to see you, maybe play a little game." Her voice was purring and held an intense promise. As he made no move towards her, she got up from the bed, presenting her legs to their full length in the process. Draco stood stock still, watching her cat-like motions, as she got closer to him. She didn't stop when their bodies met, as if she was a passion-stricken ghost trying to pass through him.

Draco took a step back, and then another, and when he tried to move further away from her unrelenting advance, he found his back pressed to the wall. With some difficulty, he managed to squeeze his hand between their bodies, getting a handful of exactly what he was trying to avoid. Before he managed to push her away, she had already pressed her cheek against his, her hair covering half of Draco's face.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to chase away the thoughts of how inappropriate it was to push a woman. The smell of her hair filled him with intoxicating fumes, penetrating every corner of his consciousness. He felt himself drown in her bittersweet scent. He was giddy and happier than he'd ever been. All other thoughts were wiped out of his head, and he was hers.

She tilted her head back readily, and he took her invitation, kissing her like he'd never kissed before - or had he? Something was nagging in the back of his mind. Something important. He kissed her again, passionately, and whispered her name - Hermione. At that moment, he knew what it was that bothered him. He held her shoulders firm and tore her away. He looked at her closed eyes and her lips, searching for him. She was achingly pretty, but she wasn't his Hermione.

Draco shook his head as the fumes began to clear, but she was there again, for another assault on his senses. This time, a familiar and not necessarily welcome voice jerked him out of the trance.

"What are you doing with my girl, Malfoy?" bellowed Ron.

Saitaina turned towards the angry boy, swearing furiously under her breath. He was standing in the open doorway. Neither Draco nor Saitaina had bothered to close the door, each for a different reason. All Ron had to do was walk by Draco's chambers to see the two of them, as busy as they were. Draco heard Saitaina mutter something beyond the flow of obscene words. He couldn't make out the irritated words, but he could see, very clearly, that she moved a well-manicured nail over her arm, lingering briefly on the Dark Mark she was bearing.

Before Ron managed to step into the room, he was flanked on either side by a gorgeous girl. Draco's jaw dropped when he realised that both wore the same tiny outfit he had arranged for Saitaina. His little gag turned into their official uniform. The two girls bore a remarkable resemblance to Saitaina, with their almond-shaped aquamarine eyes and their cat-like posture. The only significant difference was that they were blonde.

Ron was momentarily taken aback, and that was enough for the girls. Saitaina left Draco's arms and whispered something in Ron's ear. She made sure Ron's face was buried deep in her hair, and that he was getting lungfulls of her scent. Then, she stepped back and allowed the two blondes to do the same. "Ron, I would like you to meet Jeralyn and April," she said as they introduced their advantages to him. "They will keep you entertained while I'm busy."

Ron nodded, wearing a muddled simper and walked out, a hand around each blonde. Saitaina swivelled the door on its hinges, leaving it open only a crack. She turned back to Draco, but he was quicker. He stretched his arm in front of him, stopping her advancement.

At that moment, he was sure he heard Hermione. Her voice was too far to make out what she was saying, but it was hers. Draco perked his ears to try and hear more, and completely missed Saitaina as she circled around his outstretched arm, attaching herself to his other arm.

"It's the second door on the left," said a different voice, closer to Draco's rooms as Saitaina began to spread tiny butterfly kisses all over his face. Draco held his breath, not knowing whether it was to avoid the girl's toxic scent or out of anticipation. The door opened wide, and there was Hermione, held by the elbow by a Death Eater.

"Oh, young Master Malfoy, I wasn't aware that you were already with a girl," said the masked wizard. I was told to bring you entertainment."

Draco took a step towards the door, releasing himself from Saitaina's arms, which were wrapped around him by then. But he was too late. Hermione had already wriggled out of the dark wizards' grip and rushed down the corridor. Draco tried to race after her, but both Saitaina and the escorting Death Eaters grabbed him and hauled him back to his chambers.

"You're too busy serving your master now to care about a Mudblood girl," said the Death Eater in what seemed like a true attempt to convince the struggling boy. Draco knew he had lost, and stopped fighting. If he was to ever be able to get Hermione out of this place, he needed to keep his cool.

He took a few deep, comforting breaths, accidentally taking in a full dose of Saitaina's hair. He took her in his arms, ignoring the retreating observer and commenced kissing her with the same passion they shared before they were interrupted.

To his great surprise, she broke off contact. "You're obviously not interested," she said with poise. She left the room faster than his giddiness left him.

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Harry felt extremely elegant in his new, exquisite clothes. He was given trousers made of Graphorn-hide, processed to a fine, downy material that created the softest thing he had ever worn. That excluded the one time he had been given Dudley's three-sized too big paisley undershirt, but it was almost immediately taken away from him, because such fine clothes did not become him, even if Dudley brimmed over all of its edges.

The black trousers were accompanied by a matching robe, held in the front with a silver clasp shaped like a serpent. There was a wand waiting for him on a small table next to the wardrobe. It wasn't his wand, but it was a marvellous substitute. It was mostly cherry, with the tips made of ebony. It was the same length as Harry's old wand and shot gold sparks as Harry gave it an experimental spin. A white mask lay by its side. Harry took it in his hand, pocketing the wand, and left the room.

As Voldemort had promised, there was a wizard waiting outside his room. Without uttering a word, the other wizard began walking as Harry stepped out. Harry followed him, and in a matter of minutes, they were surrounded by other wizards, all dressed in the same uniform.

Despite the identical robes, it was rather easy detecting Voldemort in the full room. While everybody's robes seemed pitch black, his were a shade darker. It seemed like darkness itself was defined by the shade that surrounded him.

Harry spent most of the afternoon with these wizards. They were all very helpful, very ready to answer all of his questions, and some questions that weren't his. They taught him the right order of the world. They explained to him the differences between purebloods and others. And he understood. He swallowed with thirst every drop of information they offered, and felt all the pieces of the puzzle of his life fall into place. He had a purpose; a mission; and he was going to carry it out to the best of his ability.

Voldemort came in and out of the gathering place all day long. Shortly after darkness had fallen, he entered the room, this time, followed by a huge snake. Harry recognised her as Nagini, and smiled, remembering their last conversation, when he was still under the delusion of the importance of equal rights, and she still thought humans where the only edible meat.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder, and Draco's voice spoke to him from behind a mask. "I have something to give you, Potter. Something that will open your eyes."

"What is it?" Harry asked excitedly. He had been shown so many new things that day, he was sure Draco had more vital information to give him. More rationalisations he never would have listened to when Dumbledore and his assistants kept him away from the truth.

"This," said Draco. He pointed his wand to Harry, only its tip visible under his robes. Harry felt momentary alarm, but it changed into full-scale panic as Draco said the words of the spell, simple and dry. "Finite incantatem."

Harry felt weak and confused. He raised his hand to his scar, barely aware of his legs, which began to betray him. Draco supported him in the least observable manner possible. "Don't say a word," he whispered in his ear. "You were under the Confundus Charm. You though you were a Death Eater. If you pretend to still be under the spell, we may be able to get out of here alive."

Harry looked to his supporter, his mind still in a cloud of random memories and fragments of dreams. He looked at the gathering room around him and shivered wildly. "We're in a room full of Dark Wizards," he whispered to Draco, as if the other boy could have missed that fact.

"I know," Draco said, beginning to sound irritated. "Now, pull yourself together. You'd think this is the first time you've been in this situation." Harry winced at the mention of his other encounters with large groups of Death Eaters and their master. He flinched further when he saw that very master beckoning him from across the room.

"Go to him," said Draco, pushing Harry slightly. "And act like you worship the ground he walks on." Harry could not see Draco's face through the mask, but he could imagine the anticipation on it.

Harry staggered the first few steps, and then managed to walk the rest of the way somewhat steadily. He poised himself beside Voldemort, squinting at the huge heap of coils at his feet. "Yes - Master," he mumbled.

"We will be having supper shortly," said the Dark Lord. "I would like you to sit by my side." Harry waited. This close proximity to the murderer of his parents made Harry's scar throb with pain. He almost put his hand to it, but caught himself in time.

Voldemort seemed to want to make Harry feel welcome. "Have you had a good day?" he asked.

"Er - yes." Under the penetrating gaze of the scarlet eyes, he recognised that this was not sufficient. "I've learned a lot today," he added.

"Like what?" Voldemort hissed.

Harry tried to recall something from that day, but everything seemed like a dream that was escaping him like quicksilver. "The reasons we are better than Mug - Mudbloods," he eventually offered. He looked up and met another anticipating look. Nevertheless, he could not think of anything else to say.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord in a shrill voice. "Then you will probably be more than happy to use this new knowledge and prove your loyalty to me at the same time." Harry felt his heart beating faster as he made a feeble nod with his head. Voldemort made a similar motion towards the guard by the door, who opened it in response to the gesture.

Harry felt as if his worst nightmare had come true. He saw Hermione being dragged into the room, held fiercely by Lucius Malfoy on one side and Dr Branford on the other. He heard two words being hissed into his ear without further introduction. "Kill her."

Harry paled. He suddenly remembered he got to that position by killing Ron and turned even whiter. He fumbled in his pockets, trying to keep his shiver under control. He felt the phoenix feather in one pocket, and it gave him an idea. He kept searching, as if he'd found nothing. He locked eyes with Hermione, willing her to know that he would never hurt her.

"This isn't my wand," Harry said to the Dark Lord, raising his new cherry wand to their eye level. "For maximum result, I need my wand."

Voldemort sneered, which was a particularly intimidating sound, given his serpentine features. "Oh, with your MQ, you probably don't need a wand at all," he spat. "I'm sure your killing curse will have enough force behind it even with this wand." He glared at Harry as the latter kept the wand in the displaying position. "After all, you didn't use a wand at all when you put the curse on Weasley."

"I didn't use that curse on Ron," Harry choked out. "I just didn't have control without my wand."

"That's all right," said Voldemort, the slits that were his nostrils expanding. "What's the worst that could happen? You cannot kill her twice."

Harry spun slowly, lowering his wand to the Dark Lord's chest as he did. "I will not kill her even once," he said obstinately. "Stupefy."

Voldemort gave him a cruel smile, his face twisted with anger. "I figured something like that might happen," he hissed. Harry felt his hands being grabbed by someone behind him but offered no resistance. In a room full of Dark wizards, overcoming two or three of them would make no difference.

"Tell me," Voldemort whispered in his ear, making waves of chill go down Harry's spine. "How did you break the spell? Did you have help? Is your irksome godfather, Black, hiding here somewhere?"

"I don't need help to resist your spells," said Harry, setting his chin. "I broke out of your Imperius Curse before."

"Yes, yes, you have," muttered Voldemort. His eyes shot sparks at Harry. Then, his face lit up once more. He reached into his robes and pulled out a wand. At first, Harry thought he recognised Voldemort's wand, but a second glance revealed the bitter truth. That wand was his. "Is this what you wanted?" Voldemort jeered. "It will give me great pleasure to kill your friend with it."

For that, Harry was willing to risk being zapped by numerous curses. He struggled out of his captor's grip and jumped Voldemort, only to be hit by the Cruciatus Curse that was already waiting on the Dark Lord's lips.

Tottering away from the source of the curse, Harry lost his grip on reality and sank into a place of flesh-tearing spikes and white-hot iron bars, all working together to turn him into a bloody pulp. When the pain was raised from him, he was on his knees, his face wet and his once airy robes stuck to his skin. He realised that the echo in his ears was that of his on screams.

Harry raised tired eyes to his torturer and waited, using the time to relax his muscles and wet his dry lips. He wanted to see how Hermione was doing, but couldn't find her, as she had probably been taken away from the room. Voldemort seemed bored with him. He kept his eyes on Harry, but his attention was given to a tall Death Eater who was whispering in his ear. "Well done," he said to his the lanky masked wizard. "You will be rewarded for this."

"Well, Potter," Voldemort said, his attention back on Harry. "It seems that you're not immune to the killing curse after all. You used a trick the last time we met. It was shrewd, I'll grant you that, but a trick nonetheless."

Harry looked into the scarlet slits that were glaring at him. He put all his willpower into one single wish. His mind commanded Voldemort not to know about the phoenix feather. Let him think of something else, please.

"It seems that Dumbledore's pet bird gave you a feather," Voldemort rasped, looking satisfied as Harry's face visibly fell. Then, his tone changed to a deep ominous hiss. "Give it to me."

Scrambling to his feet, Harry reached into his robes for what was left of the feather. He didn't think it could still function, not even as a crude replacement for a wand, but he held it tight and pointed it at Voldemort. The effect was somewhat diminished by the way it fell over his hand, looking as effective as a dead flower.

"Incendio," Voldemort muttered, turning the last of the feather into a faint ash mark on the back of Harry's hand. Harry opened his fist and looked into it. The only thing left from the feather was a fresh burn mark over what he knew from Divination as his life line.

"Do you have more of these hidden about your robes?" Voldemort sneered.

"Maybe," Harry said vaguely. He thought that this idea enough was reason to smile, he just couldn't work his facial muscles that way.

Voldemort, on the other hand, had no problem smiling, or at least making as good impression of a smile as his inhuman features allowed. "Diffindo," he said with a wave of Harry's wand.

Harry heard a terrible ripping sound and felt his robes fall from him, dropping at his feet in wide stripes of black fabric, wet with his sweat. He shivered from the cold, but held his upright posture.

Voldemort raised the wand for another swing and Harry prepared himself for whatever there was to come, but the Dark Lord lowered the wand, his smile widening. "This is useless," he said. "You could plant fragments of feathers in places I would never reach." Harry thought back to the time Sirius had a Portkey hidden in his hair. He had used it to save his life then. He wished he had thought of bringing some of Fawkes' feathers with him, but even the single feather he'd had was the result of a random incident.

"I have something better planned for you," Voldemort went on. "A much slower death. Yes," he drawled, "That would give me great pleasure. Nagini," he turned to the heap of coils and scales at his feet. The enormous snake perked its head. "Meet your next meal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius was the first to dismiss Snape's request to go alone as arrogant, dangerous, and downright stupid. While they may not have agreed with all the expressions he'd used to describe the Potions Master, everyone present had their minds set on helping him, especially after he'd saved Sirius' and Mundungus' lives.

But first, they needed to find out where he had gone. For that purpose, Arabella dashed after him as he left, ordering the others to stay where they were. She caught up with him only a few seconds before he disapparated, but that was sufficient. She managed to put a pursuing spell on him before he disappeared.

Having accomplished that, she needed to hurry. Marking the spot outside the school grounds and surrounding it with magic-fortifying wards, so that the pursue spell wouldn't fade too quickly, she rushed back to the infirmary. To her great relief, she didn't have to go far. The others were already on their way to her. With some satisfaction, she noted that Viktor Krum had joined their original group. Lee and Victor were an injection of fresh spirit into their old gang. She, Sirius, Remus and Mundungus had always worked well together, but this was a very welcome change.

She and Sirius worked together inside the ward she had built, using their wands to stretch the very fabric of the known universe. It was quite expected that Snape would Apparate right into the centre of a Death Eaters infested area. They worked to change the Apparation point to two miles northwest of the original point Snape had used. That would give them a relatively safe distance, while not causing a great delay in case he needed their help.

Apparating into one of the areas controlled by the Dark Lord was always a risk, but one they were willing to take at that stage, although his Apparation-detection spells had been known to cover areas as large as fifteen square miles. Apparating to the unknown was an even greater risk, as they found out shortly after.

They fell right into inky black water with no land in sight. Holding themselves above water level with only the strength of their arms, they contemplated Apparating to someplace with solid ground, but decided against it. Their options were not appealing - it was either choosing someplace closer to Snape's original goal, where they were sure to be discovered, or giving up on the mission, which they were not willing to do just yet. Returning home in shame seemed more compelling after they had to defeat a medium-sized Kelpie, but at least they knew that the swim could not be longer than two miles.

And so, they headed southeast, until their tired legs were torn by sharp rocks that announced the solid ground. A moment later, they were all crouched on the shore, panting, reminding each other not to use detectable drying or cramp easing charms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was directed at wand-point into a pleasant looking hexagonal room. All six walls had beautiful oriental carpets decorating them, and none of the walls bore a window. A matching rug covered the floor, edging to a close fit with his suspending brothers. Six large torches hung, one in every corner, lighting the carpets in crimson and yellow. A large candelabrum hung high above the room, pouring soft white light into it. Despite its relatively small size and the lack of windows, the air was fresh and crisp. This could have been a very nice room, had it not been for the giant snake.

Harry heard the door lock behind him. He felt recovered enough to try some magic, and between the snake and the Death Eaters outside, he preferred to take his chances where defeat didn't necessarily mean he'd be eaten. He put his hand over the door and willed it to open, whispering "Alohomora" with concentrated intent.

The door stayed firm in place. Harry tried again, putting everything he had into it, but the heavy iron plate wouldn't even vibrate. Harry spun slowly, until he had his back to the door and his eyes locked on the other occupant of the room. The serpent uncoiled itself lazily and began slithering towards him.

Harry felt the cold metal pressing into his bare shoulder blades, but he was too worried about the snake to wince from the chill. "A little too lean for my taste," it hissed as it got closer.

Harry made an involuntary snorting sound. "Then why don't you eat a duck instead," he said ironically. The snake stopped its advance and raised his head to level with Harry's. It gave him a long, blood-curdling look.

"You're the talking boy," it hissed. "You're the one who told me about the human's food." Its hiss was angry, and Harry felt that that if it were a dragon, it would have spat fire by then. He decided that the best approach was to keep quiet, but then realised that the creature was about to eat him, and changed his mind.

"Did you try it?" Harry asked. "The human food, I mean."

"Yes," the snake answered curtly.

"And? Did you like it?"

"The one duck I had was good." The memory of the taste seemed to make the snake click its fangs to its lower jaw. It lowered its head a tad, working its jaw a few inches from Harry's exposed chest. "My master won't allow me to have any more."

"Why?" Harry asked before stopping to think.

The snake's head lowered in what looked like a downcast spirit. "So I will work up an appetite if he ever needs me to eat a human." Then, it perked up and looked Harry in the eye again. "I finally have a human," it hissed.

Harry watched the creature's forked tongue flick in and out of its mouth. He turned his head from the sight. The snake was so close to him that he felt the tongue's cutting edge lash at his cheek. He thought of Hermione and what would become of her after Voldemort got rid of him. His thoughts travelled to Ron - his best friend whom he'd killed. "It's not fair," he breathed.

"What's not fair?" spat the oversized monster, retreating ever so slightly.

Harry thought quickly. "Not fair that you have to go hungry for the infrequent events that Voldemort needs you," he said. He could have sworn that the snake flinched at the name just like almost everybody else. "You can kill your victims easily even when you're stuffed."

The instant the words came out of his mouth, Harry wished he hadn't said them. When locked in a room with a giant snake, the last thing he wanted to do was to remind it how lethal it really was. But the serpent didn't seem to notice Harry's slip. On the contrary - it let its head drop to the carpet with a soft thud. "That's what I told him," it said with a barely audible wheeze.

Harry felt so sorry for it that he wanted to feed it, until he remembered what its food was and winced. He slid down along the door until he was seated, and gazed at the miserable-looking heap of coils. "What spell is Voldemort using to bond you to him?" His curiosity got the better of him.

The snake raised its eyes to Harry, its head hovering an inch above floor level. "Spell? There's no spell."

"Then why are you serving him?"

"Because," the snake sounded irritated. "He's the only one I can talk to."

"Er..." Harry ventured.

"Oh," hissed the snake. "That's an interesting point you're raising."

"Er..." Harry repeated. He slapped himself on the forehead. Snap out of it, he told himself. What are you trying to do? Prove that Voldemort is the only parselmouth around? "You can always talk to me," he managed to say eventually, concentrating firmly on using the right language.

"If I go with you, will I be able to eat as many ducks as I want to?" The snake made an assessment of its options.

"Sure," said Harry enthusiastically. "Duck, chicken, turkey -"

"Just duck," the snake interrupted. "Do you know where to get them?

The image of Dobby the house-elf jumped into Harry's mind. "Yes," he said without a doubt to litter his voice. Again, he was reminded of his two best friends and their petty bickering over the House-Elf Liberation Front. He felt a tear begin to form at the corner of his eye, knowing that he would never see Ron again.

"And you will not mind that I eat them?"

"Not at all. You'll be able to eat as often as you like," Harry said reassuringly. Something nudged at the back of his mind. He tried to ignore it, but couldn't. "You will not be allowed to eat humans, though," he said with a sigh, dreading the consequences of that statement.

"Not even ones that are already dead?"

"No."

"But I will be able to eat ducks all the time?" The tone of this question reminded Harry of a child negotiating a lollypop.

"All the ducks you can contain."

"Good," determined the snake. It made its way towards Harry again, but there was no threat in his moves. "I'm cold, you don't mind, do you?" Its smooth skin glided up Harry's arm. Harry felt a chill as the cold-blooded creature sought his warmth. His back got pressed against the metal door, under the load of the large snake.

"Maybe, if I just -" Harry shifted a bit under the heavy burden. "If I can just reach the -" The snake rose to allow Harry freedom of movement. "That's better." Harry relaxed, leaning against one of the padded walls. The serpent's weight on his chest made him sink into the soft fabric.

Like a thick duvet in the winter, Harry's warmth fed into the snake, eventually coming back to him. Feeling comfortable and rather content with himself, Harry fell asleep, his breaths in rhythm with his new companion's ones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Open the door in the name of the Dark Lord."

The masked wizard who was standing by the grey door took out his wand and tapped it at the heavy iron, muttering a few words.

The door opened to a dreadful sight. Dismissing the guard, Draco stepped in and bolted it behind him. Nagini was fed now, and posed no danger. It was so full that the remenants of her prey lay on the carpet, the abnormally large snake guarding them with her body. Come morning, he'd been sent to retrieve the Dark Lord's pet, but he wanted a few moments alone with the memory of the boy who had been his foe and then became his friend.

He already felt like he'd lost Hermione. He took his first chance to visit her in her cell, and she had let him in. Of course, she didn't have much choice in the matter. She could, however, choose whether to talk to him or not, and she chose not. Draco had tried explaining to her the exact nature of his relationship with Saitaina, or the lack thereof, but she kept her back turned to him. Eventually, he'd given up and went away.

Draco walked gingerly towards the coiled snake and what was left of her meal. He expected to see blood and gore smeared all over the rug, but there was none. He assumed that the monster had taken care of that. He kneeled by her side, knowing from experience that snakes were very woozy after large meals. Harry's face was so tranquil, he looked like he was just sleeping... Draco sent his hand to tenderly move a stray lock of hair from Harry's face. "Harry," he whispered hoarsely.

And Harry opened his eyes.

Draco was so startled that he jumped a few feet back and then landed heavily on the carpet. He watched with wide eyes as Harry freed one hand from under the coils of the snake and then used it to push the snake off the rest of his body. The snake's scales had left odd-looking marks on his bare chest and arms.

Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses as if he'd just had a good night's sleep, which, apparently, was exactly the case.

"What happened?" Draco asked, gaping at the other boy.

"We were cold," Harry said defensively, still rubbing his eyes.

"No." Draco shook his head. "I mean, why didn't she eat you?"

"Oh, we talked."

"Talked?" Draco knew from second year that Harry was a parselmouth, but this was too fantastic to be real. "You mean you talked her out of eating you?" to Harry's nod he said in a mocking voice, "Then you should choose her as your new best friend. Much better than the old hard-headed carrot."

To Draco's surprise, Harry launched at him with clenched fists. To his even greater surprise, he found himself slammed hard against the wall before the charging boy even threw the first punch. He knew very well that Harry possessed that power, he just never thought he'd see him use it. Not because of harmless jeer, anyway. "Are you mad?" he panted, raising his hands to protect his face from the boy, who looked furious.

"Don't you ever talk about Ron like that," Harry spat.

Draco knew that for his own safety, he'd better shut up, but he couldn't. "Why?" he asked.

"Such talk dishonours his memory," Harry said in a quivering voice. He fell to his knees in front of Draco, his shoulders shivering. "He was my best friend. The first friend I ever had."

"You met your first friend when you were eleven?" Draco asked, the odd fact momentarily distracting him. Harry looked up at him and said nothing. "You're talking about him as if he were dead," Draco said, returning to the subject at hand.

"How else would you have me talk about him?" Harry mocked, his face contoured with grief. "And I'm the one who killed him." His eyes flared with green fire as he raised them to Draco. "You said he was a traitor and I believed you. In the Link - I believed you, and you made me kill my best friend." He was shaking violently by the time he was done speaking.

"Well, you didn't kill him. He's working for You-Know-Who," Draco said, and immediately felt a strong pressure in his chest, like some giant was sitting on him. "Knock it off," he choked. The pressure eased somewhat and Draco coughed thankfully. "What did I say?" he asked defensively.

"You were telling lies!" Harry cried, sending Draco back into the wall.

"He's not dead!" Draco yelled with what breath he could manage. Feeling the crushing force ease a little, he repeated, "He's not dead," with a choked cough.

Harry staggered backwards and stumbled over the sleeping snake. She raised her hideous head and hissed. Remembering that she hadn't been fed after all, Draco cringed against his wall. He heard Harry hiss something back, which seemed to satisfy her, because she let her head rest on the carpet again, but she kept her eyes open.

"What did you say to Nagini?"

"I said that you don't mind ducks." Draco gave Harry a very confused look indeed. "Don't ask," Harry muttered. "What did you mean when you said Ron isn't dead? How do you know? Have you seen him? Where are they holding him?"

"They're not holding him anywhere," snarled Draco. "He's one of them now." Harry frowned, and Draco did not want him to get angry again. "I've seen him," he said quickly and with passion. "He was snogging a brunette called Saitaina and then he left with two blondes." He realised that the implausibility of Ron being with three girls was enough to make Harry sceptical. "If I get him here, will you believe me?" he asked, jumping to his feet.

Harry lowered his chin in what could be interpreted as a nod but was more likely just a defeated gesture. Draco staggered out of the room, wondering how on earth he was going to get Ron there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hagrid would never admit this to anyone, but he found the patrols in the Forbidden Forrest quite boring. Things hardly ever happened. He patted Fang's head and was sure the dog knew what was in his heart. They both seemed like they were going to fall asleep while walking.

He walked around the tree that marked the furthest point of his morning tour and realised someone else there with him. He turned towards the watching eyes, placing an arrow in his bow. "Show yer'self," he boomed.

Firenze stepped out from between the trees, holding a large stone basin. Hagrid breathed in relief, deciding that maybe being bored wasn't all that bad. "This belongs to your headmaster," said the centaur. "Take it to him. We've tried to give it to a group of your young, but they were stopped by soldiers of the Dark Lord."

"Harry?" Hagrid asked anxiously.

"The Potter boy was with them, yes," nodded Firenze. "Unfortunately, our wards only protected the Pensieve, but at least they don't have it, too"

Hagrid took the heavy stone container from Firenze, hoisting it like it was a model made of Styrofoam. He wanted to ask Firenze many more questions, but when he lifted his eyes, the centaur was already gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco rapped on the door to Ron's chambers, and when there was no answer, he pushed it open and slid inside. There was someone in the bed, but the heavy drapes that covered the windows did not allow him to see the sleeping figure very clearly.

Draco crossed the room, his fingers closed around the wand in his pocket. He bent over the bed and looked into Saitaina's delicate face at exactly the moment she opened her eyes.

"Oh, hullo there," she said in a sleepy voice. "Did you pop out of my dream?"

Draco took a step back. "I'm looking for Weasley," he said, keeping his voice flat.

"Ron isn't here." She sat up in bed. The duvet fell off, revealing her wearing her gorgeous birthday suit.

Draco turned his eyes hurriedly away. "Where is he? I need to see him."

"I don't know," said Saitaina. Draco could almost hear the pout in her voice. "He hasn't been here since I sent him away so I could be with you. I waited for him until I fell asleep."

Draco sat heavily on the bed and let out a curse that should have made her blush, had she been a lady. Since she wasn't, she used the opportunity to wrap herself around him. He felt the influence of whatever passion charm she was using, but knowing the source of his sudden senselessness, he pushed her away.

She fell back onto the bed. "Ron would never treat me like this," she muttered, sounding hurt.

"He is an unfaithful git."

"He just enjoys being alive. Nothing wrong with that." she paused for a second and then added with a mutter, "I just with he hadn't enjoyed my distractions this much." She tried to kiss Draco again.

"You can stop that now," Draco spat. "Hermione isn't speaking to me. Your little plan worked perfectly."

Saitaina moved away, trying to look offended, but a little victorious smile played on he lips.

Draco turned his gaze to her, forgetting her unclad state for a second. "Get dressed," he ordered. "I have an idea."

"Usually the ideas men get around me do not include me getting dressed," she groaned.

Draco pulled an unmarked robe out of Ron's wardrobe. It was too long for Saitaina, but a quick shortening charm took care of that. "Put this on," he instructed, throwing her the robe.

"It's crooked," she complained. "Your charm didn't work very well."

"You won't trip on it, that's good enough. Now let's go."

Draco hauled her towards the room that held Harry and Nagini. He tapped his wand on the door, wondering if he'd find the boy still in there. With the absence of the complex locking charm that was used during the night, Harry would have had no trouble opening the door. But Harry was there, and he was in exactly the same position he'd held when Draco had left him. He was crouched on his knees, his hands covering his face and his shoulders shaking. The only thing that had changed was the location of the snake, which was much closer to the crouched boy.

As the door opened, Harry took his hands down and looked at the visitors. There was no sign of tears, but his eyes took the deepest shade of green Draco had ever seen. He suddenly understood what it meant to have fathomless grief.

"There's someone I want you to see," Draco said, ushering Saitaina towards the centre of the room. As reluctant as she was before, seeing the coiled snake made her resist more desperately.

"I think you're a bit confused, Malfoy. That's not Ron." Harry's words dripped of sarcasm, but his voice lacked feeling.

"This is Saitaina," Draco explained. "She's his girlfriend."

"I am not!" protested Saitaina. "We're just having some uncommitted fun."

"What do you mean having?" Harry asked, rising to his feet. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, he didn't come back to his room last night." She sounded dejected. "Last I saw him was yesterday afternoon. He left with those two -" she made a visible effort to use a different word than the one she originally intended. "Blondes."

"You're lying," Harry spat through gritted teeth.

"Why should I?" she looked confused. "If I wanted to lie, I'd have said he was with me last night. No girl likes to admit she was stood up."

Harry ignored her and looked at Draco. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Isn't it enough that he's dead and I'm about to join him? Why do you have to add these false hopes? Why add to the torture?"

Draco wanted to tell Harry how wrong he was, but he was interrupted by four masked wizards who entered the room. "Our Lord would like to know what causes the delay," said the first of them.

"As you can see," drawled Draco, "We have a bit of a situation." He slipped his hand into his pocket without being noticed, and grabbed his wand. With Harry's help, four Death Eaters were nothing they couldn't manage. He drew his wand and jumped to Harry's side, firing a curse at one of the wizards.

The shot wizard fell to the carpet while the other three aimed their wands to him. Draco wondered what spell Harry was using. Whatever it was, it wasn't working very well. The three Death Eaters were still standing on their feet, and Saitaina had joined them, creating a square battle formation.

Draco nudged Harry's ribs, but the other boy was doing absolutely nothing to stop the now advancing attackers. Draco turned to him, gaping. "What is wrong with you?" he asked.

Harry didn't answer. He just shrugged and intensified his stare at his feet.

Draco turned his eyes to the menacing Death Eaters. He knew exactly what was expected of him. He also knew what were the consequences of not complying. Slowly, he relaxed the fingers of his left hand, allowing his wand to fall to the carpet. It landed soundlessly at his feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Severus half the night to achieve information about the captured kids. The second half of the night. He'd spent the first half trying to convince the Dark Lord that saving Black and Fletcher was in their best interest. Of course, that was a difficult task, considering that he was defending a view that conflicted with his own. At least he was honest when he'd said he'd rather see Black dead. That honesty was probably what had won the argument.

From what he could gather, Potter was already lost to them and the other three were spread throughout the castle. He would have to wait for all of them to be in the same room if he wanted to have any chance to get them out. Rumours had it that Draco and Ron had both been converted to the dark arts. He could understand why his favourite student would want to follow in his father's footsteps, but Weasley just didn't seem to have what it took to be a Death Eater. He was probably held under some spell. Whatever it was, the two boys were expected in every assembly, and that included Hermione's execution, which was to be held that morning. Severus had decided on that as his opportunity to grab them all and run. He just needed to think up some distraction.

Walking idly along the castle corridors, racking his brain for a way to get the kids out, Severus passed by Ron, who was too busy kissing some blonde to notice him. Severus tried to use "Finite Incantatem" on him. He figured that it couldn't hurt to try. The spell had very little influence on the ginger boy. He had stopped necking the girl for no more than five seconds, raising his head and looking hazily around. Then, he returned to his previous occupation.

Severus went on with his search. He hadn't put too much hope in the spell anyway. Only a few minutes remained before the execution was to take place. Not that he liked the little know-it-all, but he headmaster would be very disappointed with him if he didn't save her.

Becoming increasingly desperate, Severus stepped over a line of dirt of the flagstones. it took a full minute before his brain compiled what that line was, and he hurriedly retraced his steps. He took a closer look at the thin streak of dirt. As he had suspected, that was no regular dirt. That was a trail left by an Ashwinder. He followed the tracks, erasing them with his foot as he went.

He reached a hidden hearth not far from where he'd started. A large couch hid it from view, allowing the Ashwinder to emerge from the unsupervised embers. To his great delight, there were several more tracks leading from the grate. He quickly followed every one of them, erasing the marks. He'd found brilliant red Ashwinder eggs at the end of each ashy trail, and made sure they could not be seen. He stopped at the last nest and decided that four Ashwinder nests were enough. Very well informed with the proper freezing spell, he cast it over the eggs, then collected them into his pocket. Those where useful in many potions, they were also a rare find, as wizards tended to take good care of their fires, to preserve that exact scarceness.

With the frozen eggs in his pocket and hope for a bonfire in his heart, Severus entered the gathering area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was swarming with masked wizards. Ron took his appointed position and waited. Soon they would bring Hermione in and the Dark Lord would demonstrate his powers on her. Ron felt a little sad. She had been his friend for over five years. He had even had a crush on her for some time. Watching her die would not be an easy thing.

Ron shook his head and tried to concentrate on the reasons that made him her superior. He was glad that Harry had been killed in private. That would have been really difficult for him. And Harry wasn't a Mudblood either, which made the reasoning even more difficult to come by.

Nagini slithered into the room, hissing and spitting. The lines of Death Eaters opened to allow the large snake to go through. Ron was very glad he wasn't standing in its path. The serpent was followed by six people. Ron gawked at them, assuming that his eyes were deceiving him. The first two were Harry and Draco. They were followed by his own lover, Saitaina and three more wizards, all holding their wands aimed at the boys' heads.

A loud murmur passed through the crowd as two more wizards entered the room, leading Hermione between them. Saitaina explained in a few words the events that had taken place in Harry's cell. Throughout all this, Harry kept his head bowed and seemed completely apathetic to his surrounding.

"Malfoy," hissed Voldemort.

Draco set his chin defiantly while his father approached his caller. "Yes Master," he growled.

"Lucius, it seems that your son has made a wrong choice." Voldemort whispered the words in his ear, but made the whisper loud enough for the entire convention to hear. Lucius seemed to be trying to hold back a wince.

"He is a disobedient, stubborn, ungrateful child, Master. Let me handle him. I'll beat some sense into his head."

Voldemort raised his wand and Draco fell like an autumn leaf - beautiful and soundless. "You may take him," he said, pointing his wand at the prone boy.

Lucius rushed to his son and checked his wrist. A relieved expression spread on his face. "Thank you, Master," he breathed.

"You will repay for my mercy, of course. Not now, but you will."

"Yes Master," Lucius said solemnly. "I understand." He dragged his son to one of the far corners of the room, where he let him sleep off the effects of the spell, not before putting a full body bind on him.

As Hermione's guards were waiting with her by the door, Harry was left standing alone in the middle of a circle of Death Eaters. For some reason, he didn't seem concerned about this. He didn't even seem to have registered his situation.

"Potter!" The Dark Lord creaked. Harry raised his eyes to the source of voice. They were half-closed and completely empty. The bright emerald in his eyes had turned into mucky algae.

"Beg for your life," ordered Voldemort. Harry didn't move. It wasn't of because of strong will. He just didn't seem to care. "I said, beg!" screeched the snake of a man. He waved his wand and Harry dropped to his knees, showing no signs of minding it. Getting increasingly exasperated, Voldemort hit him with the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry wriggled on the floor, at first screaming, and then, when he had no more strength to cry out, he just moaned. Ron felt a strong urge to rush to his aid, but he stopped himself, afraid of his master's wrath. He wanted to stop Harry's agony, but not by taking his place. He could see at least one of the Death Eaters fidget uneasily. The ones holding Hermione made a visible effort to hold her in place, as she kept struggling against their grip.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry stopped moving. Voldemort raised his wand, and the body of the tortured boy rose with it, like a marionette. He remained standing, his limbs dangling loosely, and his entire mass sagging. "Now, beg," Voldemort ordered again in a high-pitched hiss.

The new threat did not make Harry move. "You will die, boy," the Dark Lord warned. Harry shrugged without looking up. "Don't you care what happens to you?" Voldemort was so surprised that his voice sounded much less imposing than usual.

Harry shook his head. He looked at his palms, and for the first time since he was brought there, he spoke. His voice was cracked and low. "I killed my best friend. I don't care how I die."

The colour of Ron's face turned to an even paler shade than the mask hiding it. Harry didn't deem his life worthy of living because he thought he had killed him. He whisked the mask off his face, feeling the cold air hit his feverish skin. "I'm here," he called loud enough for Harry to hear. "I'm not dead." He pushed down his hood so Harry could better see his Weasley trademark. "Maybe I should be, but you didn't kill me."

Harry looked right at him. He squared his shoulders and raised his head. He looked very pale, but he also looked taller. Much taller. He moved his eyes to Voldemort, and so did Ron, waiting for the punishment that would surely come upon him.

But Voldemort chose to put a hold on Ron's punishment. He'd probably decided that a spirited Harry Potter was more dangerous than a Ron Weasley with a sudden change of heart. He aimed his wand directly at Harry, the killing curse beginning to form on his inhuman lips.

Ron didn't think. He acted out of pure instinct. He had tried the other side and had now renounced it. He could see his entire life in clear, vivid colours, and it led to one simple conclusion: he could not let his friend die. As Voldemort hissed the last syllable of the worst of the unforgivable curses, Ron jumped him. He grabbed the glowing wand with both hands and twisted it beyond the wood's elasticity. The wand snapped, and so did something inside of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus was in the room even before Voldemort had arrived. He was waiting restlessly for the eggs to ignite. He didn't know how long it had been since the parent Ashwinder had laid the eggs, but he hoped it had been a while. The eggs were not supposed to take more than a few minutes to set fire to their nests, but this was a large castle, and it would take a while for the fire to spread.

He had been forced to watch Harry being put under the Cruciatus Curse until he had become completely paralysed with the pain. He didn't like the boy, but nobody deserved to be treated like that. He was worried for his health, both physical and mental. Stronger, more resistant wizards had lost their grip on reality, being tortured like that. On the other hand, only minutes before, he had thought him dead.

The Dark Lord was growing impatient with the lack of responsiveness from his famous captive. Severus tried to sniff the air for smoke, but smelled nothing. Harry might be dead before the fire reached there. He watched Draco stirring up into consciousness in the corner where his father had left him tied, but there was no doubt in his heart that Voldemort would not be as lenient when it came to Harry. He sniffed the air again, imagining to be getting the smell of something burning. If the eggs wouldn't ignite soon, there was nothing he could do for the boy.

Severus shook his head desperately as he saw Ron, Harry's best friend, rise to defy Voldemort. He cursed Ron's stupidity under his breath, knowing that he was as dead as the boy he was tying to save. Or, maybe not. As Harry seemed to regain his composure, Voldemort took action. He ignored Ron's insubordination and pointed his wand to Harry. The words of the curse as well as the bolt of fire that began to form at the tip of his wand bore a dreadful familiarity. "Avada Kedavra," he heard the Dark Lord hiss, and closed his eyes.

The explosion that followed was not familiar at all. He'd seen the curse being put to use too many times, and there never was an explosion. Luckily, he was standing at the far end of the hall, and only felt a violent gust push him away from the centre of the event.

Opening his eyes in surprise, Severus ogled the devastation around where the Dark Lord had been standing, casting the curse. Voldemort, as well as another wizard were lying motionless inside a newly formed crater, each holding half of a wand. They were surrounded by at least twenty wounded Death Eaters who seemed too stunned even to moan with pain.

Severus rushed towards them. He stopped as he recognised the other prone wizard as Ron. He reached him at the same time as Harry, who'd been left on his own in the confusion. He checked his jugular for a pulse, and when he found none, he pulled his wand and looked for signs of life through magic. Harry's anticipating eyes became instantly fogged as Severus looked up at him, shaking his head in negation.

He moved to examine his so-called Master. Unfortunately, there was pulse there. Steady and strong. At that moment, the fire finally reached the hall.

Death Eaters ran amok around the hall, looking for escape from the thickening smoke. Severus knew exactly where it was coming from. He had already marked the best escape route for them, and he was happy to see that it wasn't packed. He placed an arm around Harry's shoulders, trying to lead him to the right door. Hermione's guards had fled as well, and she was making her way to Draco. Smart Little Witch, thought Severus. Their only chance was if they escaped as quickly as possible, and getting Draco out of his bonds was the right way to go.

But his plan seemed to be falling apart. Harry refused to leave Ron's side, although Severus had explained to him the futility of the suicidal gesture. At the other end of the room, Hermione had met an unexpected resistance. Lucius Malfoy blocked her way to his boy and was about to hex her. Severus didn't even wait to see which curse Lucius would use. He pointed his wand, which was already in his hand, towards the assaulter and muttered, "Expelliarmus," with eighteen years worth of accumulated hatred.

The wand flew out of Lucius Malfoy's hand and he looked at it, stunned. Hermione used his momentary bewilderment to grab hold of his fallen wand and cast a spell that made him topple to the floor. Then, before she dashed to Draco's aid, she looked at Severus and smiled.

"Potter, get up!" Severus said in the most authoritative voice, developed during his years as a teacher. He actually used that tone on him with some reluctance, feeling extremely sorry for the shivering boy. With growing concern, he watched Voldemort begin to stir into consciousness behind Harry.

Hermione and Draco managed to find their way to them through the blinding smoke and the hysterical mob. After confirming their fears about Ron with a sad nod, Severus took off his cloak and wrapped it around Harry's shoulders. He used the wrapping embrace to try and make the boy rise to his feet. Harry just brushed away the supporting arms. At least he held on to the cloak.

"You try to talk some sense into him," Severus said to Harry's one remaining friend.

Hermione took the challenge and moved to put a hand over Harry's. "There's nothing you can do for him," she said. "He died to save your life, it would be dishonouring his memory to stay here and get yourself killed." Severus thought that was a very good argument, but it made no difference to the mourning boy.

Then, something incredible happened. Severus knew two Death Eaters could use their Dark Marks to create a Link. He also knew that these wizards should feel extremely close to one another for the link to work well. He'd seen it in action a few times, but always between father and son or married couples. Each of these times took very long for the Link to be established. Then, when it was done, a thin grey aura surrounded the communicating pair.

The aura that had surrounded the two boys instantly after Draco had moved to touch Harry's arm was not the flimsy grey he'd seen in all those other occasions. It was black and only partly transparent, and seemed almost impenetrable. He didn't know how Draco used the Link to influence Harry, but when he moved away, and the black sphere was broken, Harry was standing, ready to leave.

Severus led the way, his eyes watering from the effort to see the right way through the smoke. The temperature in the room had increased dramatically, and he was glad they were on their way out. He was also glad Harry was carrying his cloak.

The next step was beyond Severus' original plans. He did not take into account the number of Death Eaters who would be outside the castle, all seeking a refuge from the fire. What he also didn't take into account was the surprise those dark servants had, waiting for them outside the castle walls. He almost breathed in relieve when he saw Sirius and his troops standing there, waiting to give a warm welcome to anyone coming out of the castle. No, not a warm welcome. A very hot one indeed. Dozens of Death Eaters were lying around, stunned. Viktor, Remus and Lee walked among them, renewing the hexes when needed. Sirius, Arabella and Mundungus stood in a formation in front of the exit, waiting for fresh victims.

The group rushed to them. They went past Severus and concentrated on someone behind him. At first, he thought it was Harry. It was given that they would worry most about the celebrity, although he had to admit that the boy had been through a lot and probably needed their affection. Then, he realised they were going to Draco. He hadn't noticed that before, but the fair-haired boy was carrying Ron's body on his shoulders. He placed it gently on the ground and backed away. To Severus' surprise, he had one hand wrapped around Hermione and another hand supporting Harry's shoulders.

Despite Draco's brace, Harry was quivering violently. It was cold, but not that cold. Snape knew his cloak well; it was charmed with the latest temperature isolation charms, and should have kept him quite comfortable. There was, of course, a different reason for the boy's trembling. He only had seven frozen Ashwinder eggs in his pocket, but still, he took one out and handed it to Harry. "Chew this," he ordered him. "It'll make you feel better." Harry took the egg with no passion but put it in his mouth anyway. He worked his jaw slowly, as if he didn't hold the strength to move at all. Nevertheless, the egg had worked its magic, and the boy's ague seemed to be gone.

Arabella, who was one most knowledgeable with medical magic, was the first to get up. Severus saw a tear glittering in the corner of her eye. One by one, the other adults rose from their crouch around the body. Hermione left Draco's arms and buried her face in Viktor's heavy cloak. Last to rise was Sirius. He held Ron's body in close embrace and pulled something sparkly out of his pocket.

Severus recognised the object. It was an emergency Portkey. The wards around Hogwarts were charmed to allow in only a handful of devices, and this tiny sphere was one of them. Under any other circumstances, Severus would have objected to using something that would raise so many alarms in the ancient school. It was able to scare even the ghosts. But although they were not facing any imminent peril, bringing a dead boy to the school hit him as a good reason to set off all the alarms and some more. Actually, if using the Portkey hadn't guaranteed havoc, he would have sought a different way to make a racket. He waited for everyone else to have their hands on the shiny ball and then moved to touch it as well.

Under colourful flares and the sound of out-of-tune trumpets, the group appeared on the Hogwarts grounds.