Chapter 6

AN: As always, thanks to astopperindeath for fixing the things my writer-brain missed. Also thanks to the ghost of John Milton for not haunting me in revenge.

Chapter 6

Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm,

That practised falsehood under saintly show

~Paradise Lost, Book IV

"So Harry's in Italy? Lucky." Hermione drummed her fingers against her thigh, trying to think of anything else to ask Severus.

She'd been right about Harry and Dumbledore. Apparently Italy was a very safe place at the moment. Voldemort had tried and failed to gain purchase there during the first war. While pure-blood prominence was a popular idea amongst the ancient blood of the Italians, doing anything to harm the legions of Muggle touristas was not.

"Are we quite done, Miss Granger? I have things to do, many of them unpleasant even in comparison to this."

"One more question, actually," she said, and smirked as he heaved a long-suffering groan.

"Why are there no books on the Dark Arts or dueling in the cottage here?"

"I...don't know," he said. He looked...startled, surprised, two emotions she had never seen on him.

"It makes our task a bit tricky, don't you think?"

"Yes. Well," he said, "should it come to it, I have a very large collection of such books at my home."

"You...you would grant me access to your library?"

He snorted, and the excitement that had flared up in her wilted.

"Indeed not, unless truly extraordinary circumstances gave me no choice. Any volumes I require you to read, I will bring here. Now," he continued, drawing his wand, "I really must be leaving."

He sketched out the portal and left without another word.

"Good day to you, too," she muttered. She turned on her heel and stalked back towards the cottage.

As she stepped through the front door, she heard Ron's voice in the sitting room. He stopped talking when the door, heavy and oaken, closed with a thud.

"Hermione?"

"Who else?" She looked into the living room, curious as to what would make Ron call out to her.

"Harry!"

Both of the boys winced at her squeal of greeting. Ron was sprawled on the hearthrug, taking up as much space as possible with his lanky limbs. Harry was peering through a mid-air widow exactly like the one Severus had used to call upon Dumbledore the week before. Behind him, she saw white stucco walls, bathed in sun. He was rather pink around the cheeks and nose, and the latter was peeling a bit.

"Oh, Harry, how are you? We were worried when you weren't here with us, but Dumbledore's letter explained that you were safe. Have you talked to anyone else? Do you know anything about what's going on?"

"Hermione," Harry said, laughing, "hold on a second."

"Sorry," she said. "But I have been worried."

"I'm fine, really. I'm over in Italy looking for Horcruxes."

"Looking for them?" Ron said, frowning. "Is there one over there?"

"No. I'm just piecing together the clues." His face clouded over. "Just doing the paperwork, and then it all gets relayed to S...someone and they do the actual hunting and destroying, while I stay here, nice and safe."

He spat the last words. Hermione was reminded of a lion at the London Zoo, pacing its enclosure and growling at passing birds.

"And at least you two have each other to talk to and whatnot,"...Hermione and Ron exchanged awkward glances..."I'm stuck here by myself, and I don't speak any bloody Italian. It must be really bloody nice to not be me and to be allowed to at least live without D...people breathing down your neck and keeping you wrapped in cotton wool--,"

"Harry, stop it, mate."

Ron's voice, firm but quiet, put a pause in Harry's rant.

"Let's not repeat fifth year, eh?" Ron continued. "It's not our fault, and at least you knew a bit more about what the bloody hell was going on."

"We don't like this any more than you do, Harry. You know that," Hermione said.

It was nice to be united with Ron again, even if it was uncomfortable and probably momentary.

Harry sighed. "Sorry. But I've really no one to talk to and everything I say gets something about 'it's all for the best'. It's just...I thought he trusted us to make our own decisions, after he..." Another storm cloud rolled over his features.

No one had to ask who "he" was.

"We'll figure something out, see if we can get out or help you somehow," Ron said. "Or Hermione will, anyway, and you and I will do as she says."

That got a weak laugh from all three of them.

Harry glanced to his left, and nodded to someone outside the mirror's view. "I've got to go," he said, and Hermione heard a mountain of resentment in his voice. "I'll try to talk to you guys soon, but we're right on the brink of discovering where some damn teacup is, so I can't say when I'll be free."

"Okay. We'll try to find a break somewhere between sitting around and doing nothing so we can pencil you in." Ron's infectious grin was back in force, and they all shared it.

"Goodbye, Harry. Please don't do anything heroic and stupid."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hermione. Bye."

The sunny scene turned to a mirror and then winked out, leaving Hermione in the same room with Ron for the first time in a week.

He coughed. "Well, I...I think I'll go get some lunch." He got to his feet and paused to study the rug next to his trainer.

"I'll join you, I think," she said. She went to the door, and looked back to see if he was following.

"We're... okay, then?"

"Yes, Ron. We're okay."

We really have no choice. With the fate of the wizarding world resting on Harry and Dumbledore...a restive teenager and an idealistic schemer...it was no time to make enemies of one's friends. It was no time, in short, to be alone.

Severus stared at his sitting room, empty but for books and his cooling coffee.

Dumbledore had said he'd be in contact by Saturday afternoon, and here it was Sunday morning. The clunky church-bell tolled eleven, probably shaking bits of plaster onto the heads of those few who still attended. It wasn't a town to inspire much faith in fellow humans, much less anything you couldn't see.

Lily had attended, every Sunday when she wasn't at Hogwarts. He'd gone with her once, in the summer before fifth year. The shining happiness in her face as she sang the hymns and recited the psalms had made him ache for what he could never have. Always aspire to, in some corner of his mind, but never attain.

With a growl, he seized the coffee mug and downed its lukewarm contents in a gulp. A dark sludge of sugar and silt, oversweet and muddy, hit his tongue and he grimaced as he swallowed it.

And then his arm burned.

"Accio mask!" It was a routine he had long ago got used to: drop everything and go. Loyalty and punctuality were rewarded by the Dark Lord.

The air shimmered; a mirror appeared. "Severus? Are you--,"

"Not now, Albus!" he bellowed, snatching the silver mask from the air and placing it to his face. It shifted, molded, and attached itself to his brow, leaving his mouth uncovered.

He took a precious second to look Dumbledore full in the face, to see the silver mask reflected in his half-moon spectacles.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "When you can, then, my boy. Good luck."

Clutching his arm and feeling it tug him to the Dark Lord, Severus spun and let it pull him to his Master.

He reappeared in a circular room. Stone walls covered in empty portrait frames surrounded him, pierced by an occasional window that let in the summer sunlight.

Voldemort stood next to a huge oak desk, examining an intricate globe made of brass cogs, which clicked and spun to a rhythm all their own. To his right, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange held Minerva McGonagall against the wall, their wands pressed to her throat.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort said, "thank you for joining us. I do hope my summons did not interrupt your breakfast?"

His red eyes were focused on Severus' left hand. Severus followed his gaze to find his empty coffee mug.

"I apologize, my Lord," he said, dropping to one knee and placing the cup on the ground. "I was eager to obey your summons."

The mug exploded, snowing ceramic shards. Severus felt the heat of the spell on his face.

"Your zeal is commendable. Stand."

Severus obeyed, trying hard not to look at Minerva. She seemed unhurt, and he could have bounced Galleons off her rigid spine. Proud to the end. An end that he hoped he could delay.

"I believe you know our host, Severus. Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall."

He was always so polite. It was always so terrifying. "Well, my Lord."

"Obviously, she will no longer be useful Headmistress of Hogwarts. The question is, Severus, will she be of use at all?"

Severus stared back at that unblinking red gaze and tried to work out how to save her.

"My Lord, she is an excellent Transfiguration teacher."

Voldemort studied Minerva with his head cocked to one side, toying with his wand. The pose was so calculating, Severus half expected him to examine her teeth.

"But she has a history of being ferociously loyal to Albus, and, I would suspect, continues this in his memory. I will not endanger my plans by harboring possible traitors." His demonic gaze returned to Severus, not implacable, but in need of very good reasons.

You could cut the irony with a knife, Severus thought. Aloud, he said, "My Lord, she is very protective of her students, particularly the Gryffindors."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she will not risk their well-being for personal vendettas. If she thinks...knows...that her obedience, and only that, will keep them safe, then she will bow to you. The other professors will follow her example."

Voldemort considered Minerva for an interminable moment. She stared straight back at him, though her face was white and drawn; Severus could see her hands shaking at her sides. Her bold front was a gamble. Either the Dark Lord would be impressed with her courage or offended at her defiance.

"A mind is a terrible thing to waste, I suppose," he said at last. Severus suppressed an exhalation of relief.

"Step aside," he said, gesturing the Lestranges out of the way. "Now, Professor McGonagall, to seal this bargain, I think you should fulfill Severus' promise: that you will bow before me."

She stood ramrod straight, eyes glittering hatred.

"Bow, I said." He was hissing now, the sibilant sound chilling in the absolute silence.

If possible, her chin went a little higher.

"Severus, if you would?" Voldemort stepped back, and extended his arm.

I'm sorry, Minerva. Damn her Gryffindor pride.

Severus leveled his wand at Minerva, and she turned to face him, lips thin and hard.

"Imperio!"

She twitched as the spell took hold, eyes now blank and empty, jaw slack. Severus swallowed his disgust at the sight, hating himself for doing this to her.

Bow, Minerva. Bow to your master. He bore down on her with his thoughts, battling his will against hers. She fought him bravely, but the spell did its work. Vertebrae by vertebrae, her back bent and bowed her before Voldemort.

"Who says an old dog can't learn new tricks?" Voldemort's high laugh, joined quickly by Bellatrix's mad cackle, pierced the air as Severus released her from the spell. She straightened, her back creaking.

"Crucio!"

The only warning had been the cessation of his laugh, and now Minerva writhed against the wall at the point of Voldemort's wand. Severus stared at the oak desk, trying to block out her cries of agony.

"You will bow when I command it," Voldemort hissed. "You will live when I allow it. And you will die when I wish it."

She collapsed into a tartan heap when he released her, gasping for breath.

"Come," he said, as calmly as if he not just tortured an elderly witch. "There are other things to deal with. To the Manor."

Severus did not allow himself to stay.

They appeared outside Malfoy Manor, upon a long, manicured path lined with tall hedges.

"You dealt with the old bitch perfectly, my Lord." That was Bellatrix, looking at Voldemort with hot eyes and parted lips. Rodolphus stared stoically at the path ahead of them, ignoring his wife's blatant lust. Severus suspected that no love was lost between the couple; if snake-babies started popping out of her, it was likely that Rodolphus would not blink. She moved closer to Voldemort, heaving deep breaths that forced her breasts tightly against their scanty enclosures.

"Calm yourself, Bella," Voldemort murmured. "You are making a scene."

She flushed an ugly mauve and looked away.

"I shall fly to the Manor. Join me in the skies, Severus." With that, Voldemort lifted from the ground like a bat out of hell, black robes swirling in the wind as he rose fifty feet.

Severus drew his wand and muttered, "Corpus avis!" He jumped and the spell caught him midair, lifting him until he was level with the Dark Lord.

"Nothing dampens her cunt like torture," Voldemort remarked, gazing down at the witch on the ground, who had turned her predatory attention to her husband.

Severus declined to comment on the state of Bellatrix's cunt. Instead, he asked, "Was there a private matter you wished to discuss with me, my Lord?"

"I require a Headmaster for Hogwarts, Severus."

Fuck.

Hours later, Severus Apparated into his sitting room. The couch coughed up a puff of dust as he collapsed onto it, head in his hands.

"Accio whiskey."

He snatched the bottle from the air and ripped out the glass stopper, flinging it across the room. Gulping the liquor down was like drinking turpentine.

"Severus?"

He had forgot the mirror that hung in the air. As he glared up at it, Albus's face came into view, concern etched in every line.

"I have news, Headmaster," Severus spat. "Oh, sorry, would you care for a drink first?" He waved the bottle in Albus's face. "You might need it."

"Severus, what is going on?" His soft voice was unusually sharp.

"More for me, then." Severus took another swig. "Well, Albus," he said, rasping slightly from the burning alcohol, "what is going on is the Dark Lord needs a new Headmaster for Hogwarts. Minerva's job interview didn't go so well, so he wants a lovely Death Eater to churn out little minions with each diploma."

Albus might be old, but he was still quick. "You?"

"Possibly. I am, and I quote, 'a top contender.'"

"Who are the others?"

"The Dark Lord did not bless me with that information." Severus stared at the amber whiskey, sloshing it back and forth in its bottle. "But whoever they are, I suggest you hurry up and find the remaining Horcruxes."

"Why?"

"Because I refuse to be Headmaster of bloody Hogwarts."

"Severus, it would be for the cause, for the best...,"

"I do not want to be drawn further into your plots and plans, Albus!" Severus snarled. "I do not wish to be another lapdog in that school, to be the blame and locus of hatred for every parent and every student. I'm having a hard enough time staying alive as it is without worrying the house-elves will stab me in my sleep with the steak knives!"

"Severus!" Albus's voice was cold, now, cold as it had been seventeen years ago when he had looked down at a young man begging for a woman's life.

"You will do it, if he asks you. I know you will."

Such faith, Albus. Touching. "We shall see. Perhaps he won't pick me. I will endeavor to make myself useful to him in other ways."

"Indeed. Now, I do have some good news." Back to the sunny, smiling man with twinkling eyes.

"Do tell." Severus considered the whiskey, and then he placed it to the side. It was warming his veins well already.

"We have found the location of the locket."

"Let me guess...I get to pick it up? Cash on delivery?"

Albus sighed. "Mundungus Fletcher has it, we think. Use your contacts to meet with him, and yes, Severus, you will have to pay for it. And before you bemoan your financial situation," he added, seeing Severus's scowl, "I will Floo you the money once you have secured a meeting."

"Very well. What do I to destroy it? Drop it down the loo?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor, which hangs in my office--,"

Tacky fucking cleaver, Severus thought, suppressing a tipsy snigger.

"...will destroy it with a blow. Or, you can cast Fiendfyre, though I would do so from a distance and with plenty of water on hand."

"Very well," Severus said, standing up and nodding emphatically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to piss. Good day, Albus."

One last sigh of resignation and then the mirror scattered. Severus considered the empty air where it had been, then reached for the bottle again. A hot bath to mull things over sounded nice. Pity there wasn't enough whiskey to bathe in, but so it went.

With the exaggerated care of the inebriated, Severus headed for the toilet.