Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth

Their cottage in the town of New Hope was little more than a three-room shack with a single bedroom and a small bathroom attached. It had belonged to Rufus Ainsworth, whom Hermione had been saddened to learn had been executed shortly after his arrest without divulging any information.

"It's not much, but it's all we have available at this moment," Remus said apologetically, looking around the small living room with its scant, worn-out furnishings.

"It will be sufficient," Snape stated.

Despite the injuries sustained the previous day, Snape had insisted that he was well enough to make the move into their own place and that there was no need for them to further inconvenience Remus and Veera. Hermione had got the impression that the wizard just wanted to be away from the others.

Remus had shown them the few yards to the cottage, and Veera had provided Hermione with a set of cream-colored robes and a warm cloak. The robes were not as voluminous as the ones she owned and they were a little too short, but Hermione gladly exchanged them for the red robes that announced her pregnancy to anyone that cared to know. She was not ashamed of her condition, but neither was she prepared to answer the questions that the circumstances surrounding the conception would no doubt raise.

She walked into the kitchen and began to examine the sparse contents of the cupboards. Low voices drifted in from the living room where Snape and Lupin had remained.

"You didn't tell her about Harry," Lupin said.

"I didn't think it was prudent at the time."

"He trusted you to keep her safe and bring her to us."

"She is here, is she not?"

"She is pregnant."

"That's none of Potter's business, Lupin, or yours."

"I'm only warning you that Harry is bound to find out, and he might not see it quite that way."

"You mean he doesn't know yet?"

"I didn't think it was my place to tell him."

Hermione heard the front door open, and the two wizards stopped talking suddenly. Curious, she started for the living room when the door to the kitchen burst open, and a pair of powerful arms lifted Hermione off the floor in a bear hug that threatened to cut off her respiration.

A loud, screeching voice sounded from just beyond the doorway. "Charlie Weasley, are you trying to suffocate that girl? Put her down!"

Molly Weasley pushed aside a grinning Charlie and wrapped a protective arm around Hermione's shoulders. "It is so good to finally see you again, dear. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," Hermione answered, her eyes welling up with tears.

The trials of the past few years were apparent on the woman's lined face and copiously gray hair – Hermione could scarcely imagine the pain of losing five children and a husband in such a short period of time.

Over breakfast that morning, Lupin had filled Hermione in on the details of the events following the ambush. All the protectors had been killed that night except for himself and Kingsley, who had managed to escape to the remote valley that would become the town of New Hope. Of the decoys, all had been captured, and only she and Fleur had been spared. Fleur had apparently been deemed too old for one of the reformation camps and had been sent to work in one of the Ministry-sanctioned bordellos instead – she had been moved two years later, and Lupin and the others had lost track of her whereabouts then.

Molly patted Hermione's back consolingly. "Oh, there there, no need for tears now; I've shed enough of my own."

"I'm sorry. I'm just a bit overwhelmed, I guess." Hermione offered a weak smile as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I've brought a few things I thought you might need. How about we spruce up this kitchen; what do you say? Have you had breakfast yet?" Molly's voice lacked some of the optimism that Hermione remembered; it was now the voice of someone who had become accustomed to presenting a brave front, even when circumstances didn't warrant it.

Hermione nodded and looked around the room. Remus and Snape had joined them. Other than Kingsley, Harry and Ginny, it seemed that the people gathered there were all that was left of the army that had once dreamt of defeating Voldemort – it hardly seemed enough to try again.

"Where are Harry and Ginny?" she asked, suddenly remembering.

"Kingsley, Harry and Ginny are away, but we've sent them word of your arrival, and they should be here shortly," Remus offered.

"They are going to be so happy to see you," Molly said with a reassuring smile as she started bustling around the kitchen and dispensing orders. "Charlie, bring those boxes in here! No, not that one; those are linens. Remus, would you kindly take them to the bedroom? Goodness, look at this sink!"

One flourish of Molly Weasley's wand, and the sink began to fill with sudsy water, a broom started to dance across the floor, and plates flew from their boxes to line themselves neatly on the shelves.

By noon everyone had departed, and Snape had retired to the bedroom looking haggard and withdrawn. This left Hermione's afternoon free for her to ponder her circumstances and the events that had led to them. No longer a prisoner, a world of possibilities and choices had opened up before her, but Voldemort's presence still loomed in the distance, and there was the open question of her relationship with Snape. None of the old acquaintances she had encountered so far had questioned her decision to continue to share a roof with the moody wizard even though it was no longer a requirement, although Remus had in his own roundabout way expressed some concerns. Hermione knew that was something that was bound to change – she only hoped she could come up with an explanation other than that she didn't want to seem ungrateful to the wizard now that she was back with her old friends.

She must have fallen asleep on the small couch in front of the living room fire, because the sun was already starting to descend when she awoke to find Snape looking down at her. Hermione noticed that he looked much more rested than he had that morning, although he still seemed to be favoring his right side.

"It's almost time for the meeting; we should join the others in the Meeting Hall," Snape announced.

The Meeting Hall was a large building in the center of town, and as they approached, Hermione could see people already milling about. She searched the small crowd for familiar faces and felt relieved when she saw Molly making her way to the entrance. The older woman paused, and Hermione followed her gaze toward the sky. Three figures mounted on brooms were approaching at breakneck speed, their outlines clearly visible against the setting sun.

"It's Harry!" a young boy exclaimed from somewhere behind her.

Hermione was running before his feet even touched the ground and then she was tumbling down in a tangle of gangly limbs and robes as both Harry and Ginny leaped from their brooms and threw themselves at her. For some time there were no words, only sobs as the three embraced each other, until Harry looked uncomfortably at the curious crowd gathered around them and jumped to his feet, offering both Ginny and Hermione each a hand up.

Harry's eyes were moist with tears as he continued to cling to Hermione's hand, and Ginny seemed unable to stop grinning. Harry was still thin but taller, his unruly mop of black hair looking even more so from the long broom ride. Dark, thin stubble covered his lower face and gone were the awkwardness and clumsiness of his days at Hogwarts – he stood with the confidence of someone used to taking charge. Ginny looked older and thinner, but still very much like her mother.

They had so much to talk about, yet none seemed to know what to say. Hermione was grateful when Snape spoke up from behind her.

"We should go inside; I believe we have official business to discuss before the town meeting starts."

Harry nodded, released Hermione's hand, and started for the building, broom slung over one shoulder. He gave Hermione a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he walked past her. Kingsley, who had arrived with the other two but had remained standing back, now stepped forward.

"It's been hard on him, knowing that you were alive somewhere and he couldn't just go and get you," Kingsley explained as he shook Hermione's hand.

"We practically had to restrain him to keep him from jumping on his broom and taking off when Snape told us he had found you," Ginny added.

"The others are waiting," Snape reminded them, and Hermione nodded.

The main hall inside the building was brightly lit and furnished with long benches that could easily accommodate a couple hundred people. Hermione and Snape followed Ginny and Kingsley down a corridor to a smaller room.

Snape closed the door behind them and cast a silencing charm around the room; Remus, Molly, Charlie and Harry were already waiting inside.

A round table with eight chairs sat in the middle of the room, and Snape and Hermione took a seat along with the others.

"Harry insisted that there always be a chair for you at each meeting," Ginny informed her.

Hermione was touched by the thoughtful gesture, but no sooner had the meeting started that she began to feel out of place – there were so many things of which she was unaware that had to be explained to her.

Harry opened the meeting by informing the others that the mission had been a success and that the sixth Horcrux had been destroyed. Apparently, after the war, Harry had carried on with his plan of finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes. That Harry himself had at one time been a Horcrux, and that a piece of Voldemort's soul had been released from his body during the night of the ambush when Harry was hit by a death curse from Voldemort's wand, came as a shock to Hermione, but when she thought back to Harry's strange connection to Voldemort and his ability to speak Paseltongue, it made sense.

"The final one is going to be tricky though; it's Nagini, Voldemort's snake, and he always keeps it close to him," Harry concluded, and he immediately turned to Charlie to inquire about the progress of flying lessons for the new students.

Molly explained to Hermione that the anti-Apparition wards encompassed not only the town, but the immediate mountains and caves, and no fireplace in the village was connected to the Floo, not even the back-connections that Snape used; the only way in or out of the village was to hike for several kilometers as she and Snape had done, or to fly high above both the mountains and the wards – children began flying lessons as soon as they were old enough to sit a broom.

"Progress is good, but you were missed as usual," Charlie supplied. "Don't worry, Hermione, we have a few thestrals," he added with a wink, and Hermione smiled her relief.

"Any new arrivals besides Hermione and the hand-witch?" Kingsley asked.

Lupin shook his head. "About that..." he said and produced a roll of parchment out of his robes.

Everyone leaned forward to look at the front page of that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet as Lupin unfurled it onto the table. Molly turned quickly away, Ginny gasped and Hermione felt Snape tense beside her but she still could not get a good enough look as everyone huddled around the page. She finally managed to read the headline: Minister's Hand-Witch Kidnapped and Gruesomely Murdered!

The photograph just below the headline showed the sprawled body of the girl Hermione had met only days before at the hand-witch's trial, the front of her robes soaked with blood, her mouth open in a silent scream, her unseeing eyes wide as she lay on a public sidewalk. The words Mudblood Whore were scribbled on a wall behind the body in what appeared to be blood.

Hermione felt her stomach revolt, and she took several deep breaths trying to calm her urge to vomit.

"I thought it prudent to halt all rescues until we have more information about what is happening," Remus said.

The others nodded their agreement, but Hermione was still confused.

"Rescues?" she asked.

Kingsley filled her in on the details. "For several years, we've been smuggling low-profile Muggleborns and sympathizers out of Wizarding Britain – anyone who would be an asset to the cause but whose disappearance wouldn't raise too many flags. Just last month, we successfully rescued our first hand-witch, but according to our informants, three hand-witches were reported kidnapped last month, and we know we only took one. There've been others in the past year, although the Ministry has been careful to keep the situation under wraps. And now this." Kingsley motioned toward the newspaper. "We were hoping that records from the Center would give us more information about who the other missing hand-witches were, and what happened to them."

"Do you think someone is kidnapping and killing hand-witches?" Hermione asked of no one in particular.

"Muggleborns," Snape said softly. It was the first word he spoke since the meeting had started.

When the others turned to look at him, he pointed to the word Mudblood in the photograph.

"Snape, do you have any idea of who is behind this?" Lupin asked.

"I might," he answered as he ran a finger over his lower lip and stared thoughtfully at the photograph. "Lupin, may I borrow your broom?" Snape asked suddenly.

Hermione frowned. "Where are you going?" she asked, as anxious as the others to find out about any theory Snape might have.

"I need to speak to Lucius," Snape stated calmly.

Hermione felt the first stirrings of uneasiness. "Are you sure that's prudent?"

"It isn't as much prudent as it is necessary, Miss Granger," Snape answered.

Hermione waited for someone to object.

"Sure. Veera is probably already in the Main Hall, but you can let yourself into the house – you know where I keep it," Remus said after a moment.

"No!" Hermione protested. "He can't go back! It was Malfoy who sent the Death Eaters after us. They'll catch him, and he'll be killed!"

Everyone was looking at her as if she had suddenly started speaking in a strange tongue no one could understand; Harry's eyes practically burned through her.

"Miss Granger," Snape began softly. "Your concern is unfounded. It wasn't me Lucius sent the soldiers after, but you. My life would not have been in peril had I not attacked them."

"What about Voldemort?" Hermione asked, her agitation increasing.

"I'm certain that by now the Dark Lord has heard about my insurrection, but I have ways of contacting Lucius without the Dark Lord's knowledge."

She had little knowledge about Snape's relationship with Lucius Malfoy, but she was certain that the Minister could not be trusted. For all they knew, it was Malfoy himself who had killed the young girl in order to lure Snape back.

Lupin's voice intruded into her thoughts. "Hermione, Snape knows what he is doing; he can take care of himself. We need whatever information he can procure."

"You are safe here, Hermione. You can stay with me and Harry," Ginny offered in a cheerful tone that grated against Hermione's heart.

She knew they needed the information, was well aware that the lives of other hand-witches depended on it, but for a reason she couldn't explain, the thought of Snape being captured and killed filled her with dread. It took all of her will for Hermione to push her reservations aside and nod her agreement.

~*~

Severus hesitated for the space of a heartbeat before he entered Lucius' study. Despite his words of reassurance to Hermione, Severus was uncertain of what awaited him on the other side.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. A fire roared inside the fireplace, and Lucius sat on a high-back chair directly in front of it, his body slightly slumped as he stared into the orange flames. Across the room stood Draco. Looking regal in purple velvet robes, he leaned against a window frame as he stared out of the pristine glass into the night.

"Come to gloat, Severus?" Lucius asked without looking at him. His skin looked waxy in the firelight, his eyes strangely dark and sunken.

"I've come to offer my condolences and to seek your counsel," Severus replied with a slight bow.

Lucius looked nonplussed. "Do you hear that, Draco? Severus expresses sorrow at my loss and deems my advice worth seeking."

Draco glared at his father, his face pinched, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, and Severus noticed for the first time the red rims around the young man's eyes. Lucius' distress he had expected – Severus knew well the value that the proud wizard placed on his progeny and how much he and his wife had hoped for a new child – but the evidence of Draco's recent tears was disconcerting.

Severus waited for Draco to say something, anything that would divulge the source of the tension that he sensed in the room, but after a moment, Draco quietly returned to look out of the window.

Severus tried again. "Lucius, I know that this is a most inopportune time given your recent loss, but it is important..."

Lucius' hoarse voice cut across Severus' softly spoken words. "And tell me, Severus, what do you know about my loss when you've whisked away your own riches to safety at my expense and against the same advice you now so keenly seek?"

Lucius' caustic tone surprised Severus, and he quirked his brow. He was aware that his hasty departure must have caused Lucius no small measure of strife with the Dark Lord, but he also knew that Lucius had slithered his way out of worse in the past.

"Surely you don't think that I had anything to do with what happened to your hand-witch and child!" Severus exclaimed.

For the first time since Severus had entered the room, Lucius looked directly at him.

"You, Severus? With your acerbic tongue and yielding heart? No. This is the work of a different kind of snake, one not as aggressive but far more lethal when it does strike."

Severus followed Lucius' gaze to the window where Draco stood, his head now bowed as in penitence, and a terrible understanding dawned on him.

"Draco?" he called hesitantly.

The young man's head snapped up, and he looked at Severus.

"I didn't know they were going to do that to her!" he yelled. "I didn't know!" he repeated, this time looking at Lucius, his words sounding more like a plea as tears threatened to erupt again.

Severus was on him in two steps. "Who, Draco, who?"

"I don't know."

Severus' fingers wrapped tightly around Draco's slender arm and dug into the fine fabric of his robes. "Then tell me what you do know."

Draco's eyes shifted briefly to his father, and out of the corner of his eye Severus saw Lucius' slight nod.

"They call themselves the Knights of Domitian. They are pure-bloods who believe that our blood should remain pure. They have a leader, but I've never met him."

"So killing the Minister's pregnant hand-witch was a public declaration against mixing the blood of pure-bloods with that of Muggleborns?" Severus asked.

"It was a loyalty pledge. To become part of the group, one must first cleanse its house."

Lucius snorted his disgust. "He doesn't even realize he's been used!"

"Macnair did it too," Draco offered lamely.

"Macnair? Macnair's hand-witch was tried in the pit for aborting his child," Severus observed.

Draco looked defiant now, his remorse seemingly evaporating under the heat of Severus' questioning and his father's scorn. "Macnair set her up. He placed the Emmenagogue potion in her quarters knowing that she would use it, then walked in at an opportune time and turned her in to the Ministry."

Snape nodded; he knew the pure-blooded wizard was capable of that and more. "So, Macnair – who else?"

"Umbridge – she seems to speak for the leader, whoever that is. She was the one who approached me, told me about the group and that they wanted me to join them. She was also the one who waited for me in the woods behind the manor when I lured the hand-witch out. She wore a hooded robe then, but I would know that sickeningly sweet voice anywhere," Draco offered.

Severus remembered another voice he had heard while he lay wounded in the hallway of his home: it's Umbridge you should be worried about; that blood-traitor Malfoy will get his soon enough – Yaxley's voice.

"Who else?"

"I told you, I don't know! Everyone wears hooded robes to the meetings; I thought I recognized some of the voices. Nott, maybe Crabbe. I didn't recognize anyone else."

Except for Umbridge, the people Draco had named were all members of the Dark Lord's inner circle, those nearest and dearest to him, the ones he would least suspect. The hand-witch program had been controversial from the start, and discontent amongst many of the pure-bloods had been brewing for a long time, but Severus never imagined that they had grown so organized – or so bold.

"Does the Dark Lord know?" Snape asked Lucius.

"Our Lord is blind; he still thinks this was all brought about by a handful of Potter's followers trying to cause discord within our ranks."

Severus tensed at the mention of the name – was it possible the Dark Lord suspected that Potter was still alive?

"Potter's been dead for seven years, and the Dark Lord still blames all his woes on the boy," Lucius commented with a dry chuckle.

Lucius' words put Severus' mind somewhat at ease on the matter – if the Dark Lord had any suspicions about Potter, he would have shared them with Lucius.

"And have you not enlightened him?" Severus pressed on.

"Thanks to you, Severus, I no longer have Our Lord's ear or trust the way I used to. You want me to go accusing members of his inner circle of treason? And on what proof: the word of my traitorous son?"

"I just wanted that Mudblood whore out of my house!" Draco exploded.

Lucius jumped to his feet. "Your house?"

The implied threat of disownment had its predictable effect; Draco lowered his head as he looked away.

Seemingly satisfied, Lucius returned to his chair. "I need a word with Severus; go help your mother pack," he ordered. "And for fuck's sake take off those robes!" he added as Draco rushed out of the study.

"Is Narcissa going on a trip?" Severus asked as he took the seat that Lucius offered him.

"I'm sending her and Draco abroad. Wizarding Britain is no longer safe."

Severus wanted to point out that it had never been, not since the ascendance of the Dark Lord, but he held his tongue.

"What about the children?" he asked instead.

Lucius frowned. "What children?"

It was just like Lucius not to think about things beyond the scope of what affected him directly. It was one of the many flaws in his character that Severus had learned to accept and circumvent.

"The children of pure-blood wizards and hand-witches. Have they become a target?"

Lucius seemed to give the question some thought. He shook his head after a moment. "There is one other pregnant hand-witch that went missing a while back. I haven't heard anything about any murdered or missing children yet."

Yet. Severus felt his guts clench. The other hand-witch to whom Lucius referred was safely hidden at New Hope. The murder of children always produced a general outcry, and for whatever reason the Knights of Domitian weren't prepared to draw that kind of attention to themselves – yet. But Severus had no doubt that should they ever seize control, the mass slaughter of children would soon follow.

In his mind he saw the image of one child in particular, a little girl with brown curls and chubby cheeks, reaching out to him from inside a framed photograph.

He only had one question left for Lucius. "Why did you send Yaxley, Macnair and the others after my hand-witch?"

Something oddly akin to regret fleeted across Lucius' features. "I still believed I could save us both. Her existence was starting to raise too many questions already; you have no idea the amount of memos Wishington has had to reroute in the past couple of weeks! Umbridge discovered that it was my signature on the allocation papers and the stay of banishment, and she was speculating about why you didn't go through the normal channels to procure a hand-witch. When she saw the girl's questionable behavior at the trial, she wasted no time in bringing your lack of control over her actions to the attention of Our Lord. Like I told you before, it was only a matter of time.

"When the other hand-witch disappeared right in front of the soldiers' eyes as she was led away from the pit, I knew that your hand-witch had got to you somehow, convinced you to help the other one – I know you, Severus; it isn't like you to volunteer when it comes down to rape and torture. I thought if I could dispose of the girl... it doesn't matter now," Lucius concluded with a sigh.

"You should have come to me; I could have managed it."

"No, you couldn't have. When it comes to that girl, you're as blind as Our Lord, Severus – she has made you that way." Lucius' tone lacked the disgust and contempt that Severus would have expected – maybe the old snake wasn't as irredeemable as Severus had once thought.

Severus couldn't deny that his attraction to the girl had clouded his judgment on more than one occasion, but there were also other considerations – promises and commitments he had made, to others and to himself, and Severus was nothing if not a man of his word.

He waited for Lucius to say more, but the wizard had turned his attention back to the flames that danced cheerily under the ornate mantle.

"My home defiled, my son a traitor, my loyalty to the Dark Lord in question... my days are numbered, Severus," Lucius mused aloud.

There were no words of reassurance that Severus could offer Lucius – perhaps they were all doomed. He rose quietly and made his way to the door. He paused with his hand on the brass doorknob when he heard Lucius' voice again.

"Good luck, Severus."

"And to you, my friend," Severus whispered as he stepped into the corridor outside the study and closed the door behind him.

Draco was waiting for him just around the corner from the study. The young man's steel-gray eyes, so much like his father's, looked haunted and dull, and his bottom lip quived.

"They cut her open, Severus," he said bluntly. "They cut her open and pulled the baby out. It was awful."

Severus didn't react. He thought instead of another young man many years earlier, one too full of naive bravado and ambition to fully take into account the price he would have to pay for the choices he made, until it was too late.

"My father is going to die, isn't he?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Not if we can help it," Severus responded with an assurance he didn't feel.

Draco snorted derisively. "What can we do? There are too many of them, and we can't go to the Dark Lord!"

A plan was taking form in Severus' mind, one plagued with risks and unknowns.

"No. But perhaps there's another way. Here's what I need you to do. Get your mother and wife to safety and then return to Britain. Go to Umbridge. Tell her that you have severed your ties to your family and are ready to embrace the Knights of Domitian as your new kin. Find out everything you can about what they plan to do next. I will meet you by the bent oak tree in the woods behind the manor just after sunset in three days – do you remember where it is?"

Draco nodded.

"Give me whatever information you have gathered, and in exchange, I will do what I can to help your father. Have you been practicing your Occlumency?"

Draco nodded confidently.

"Do we have an agreement, then?"

Draco stared quietly at Severus for a moment before he nodded his head. "Yes."

"Very well. I will see you again in three days."

"Do you really think this will work, that my family will be safe?"

Severus didn't want to offer Draco any false hopes. "The outcome depends on the contents of the information you bring back," Severus explained.

Severus rushed off to inform the others of what he had learnt, the thought that the future of the wizarding world now rested partially on the shoulders of Draco Malfoy settling uneasily in his gut.