Chapter 20

A/N: Thanks as always to the lovely beaweasely2 and Clairvoyant for their invaluable help and support over this story. I am also very grateful for your thoughts and reviews. We are moving towards the end game here....

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Chapter 20

It was Marcella.

Hermione froze in shock at the sight of the woman in front of her. Marcella's face was filthy and grazed, and her lip was split. Her once-fine stola was ripped and soiled. She stared at Hermione, her eyes wide with terror, as she crawled towards her.

"Marcella?" Hermione couldn't believe it. Hadn't Conviva assured her that his wife was on her way to Salernum with their children? Has something gone wrong? Where are the boys?

Marcella came closer and grabbed the younger woman's arm so hard that Hermione hissed in surprise and pain.

"Hermione?" Marcella's voice trembled with emotion. "Is it really you?" Tears began spilling onto her cheeks. Her nails were still digging into her arm.

Hermione shook herself mentally and pulled Marcella into a hug. Marcella clutched her tightly, sobs wracking her body.

After a few moments, Marcella relaxed her hold, sniffled and pulled backwards, swiping a hand across her face self-consciously. "I'm s-sorry," she gulped, and her voice shook. "I was just so..." She broke down again, and Hermione rose forward onto her knees to embrace the distraught woman once more, holding her tightly as she shook, feeling the sharp grit of the rough floor cut into her knees.

"It's okay, it's okay," Hermione tried to reassure Marcella, even though she felt far from confident about their situation. She looked beyond Marcella, into the darkness at the rear of the cage, and saw a number of equally frightened human faces staring back at her from the gloom.

"How many of you are here?" Hermione asked, gripping Marcella firmly by the shoulders. The Pompeiian woman seemed to come to her senses and pushed herself backwards from Hermione's embrace once again to sit on the filthy floor of the cage opposite her.

"There are eleven of us," she said, turning around to beckon the others forward.

"Your sons...?"

Marcella sniffed and shook her head, a relieved smile briefly crossing her features. "No, no," she replied, relief clearly evident in her voice. "They are on the boat to Salernum. I came back to the city to try to persuade Conviva to come with us for the rest of the summer."

"What happened?" Hermione was attempting to keep Marcella talking while she fought to think clearly. Things had just become so much more complicated.

Marcella frowned and rubbed her hand over her face once more. "I put the boys on the boat, and then I walked back into the city." She sighed. "I didn't have a slave with me because I left them both with my children. As I walked back towards our house... It was late... I was so stupid!" She took a deep and shuddering breath. "Two men jumped out at me from a side street. They hit me...." She started to cry again at the memory. "I said that my husband was rich and that he would pay them for my safe return, but they just laughed... and then I don't remember anything else. I woke up here with these other people in the cages."

Hermione turned her attention to the other Pompeiians, some of whom were now clustered around the two women. She saw a motley arrangement of slaves, children, and one elderly lady. They were all eerily silent, their eyes haunted, their faces lit by the flickering flames from the brazier. Hermione frowned in concern.

"Erm, hello," she said uncertainly. She smiled at one young woman who must have been about fourteen or fifteen years old. The girl gave her an anguished look and opened her mouth to speak, pointing at her tongue and making a quiet noise in her throat.

Hermione realised with a shock that the girl's tongue was missing. In horror, she looked to the elderly lady crouched beside her.

"You as well?" asked Hermione. The old woman nodded sadly. Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the others. "All of you?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, and she could feel her skin crawling. "Why?"

"They had been here for a while before I arrived." Marcella's voice was subdued with shock. "I don't know who or what did this to them, but when I first got here, they all told me be to be quiet – it seemed to be very important not to speak. So I did what I was told and hid among them in the shadows of the cage. I saw... I saw..." Marcella's eyes closed in anguish at the memory, and then they opened again. "Did you know that Marcus is one of them?" she asked suddenly, as if changing the subject.

Hermione nodded, frowning. Her mind was starting to work overtime again, and she was casting about for her next step. Her first thought had been to remain in the cavern and wait for Sabazios' return, ready to delay and confuse him for long enough until he could be caught in the volcano's eruption. She had entertained wild fantasies of duelling the god, spinning and twisting as she flung curse after curse at Sabazios, until he was subdued.... Then she'd simply Apparate back to Snape's house, find a way to activate the runes around the edges of the portrait and get back home.

Oh, gods.

It was a terrible plan.

She felt sick.

And now Marcella was looking at her with such desperation in her eyes, her body language still and expectant. Trusting.

There was no way that Hermione could leave her and the other captives at Sabazios' pleasure.

She needed another idea.

Marcella looked to be in a bad way, but she did not appear to be as traumatised as the other captives, huddled at the rear of the cage. They all needed her protection. There was no question of leaving any of them behind.

Hermione withdrew her wand from the pocket in her grubby tunica and took a deep breath.

"Marcella," she said in a low voice, keeping her tone firm and precise, "we have to get these people out of here. Can you help me please?" Marcella stared back at her blankly.

"I think I can get us out of here," Hermione continued, still speaking deliberately slow and looking deeply into Marcella's eyes. "But I need you to concentrate and help me."

Marcella's eyes seemed to come back into focus, and she stared back at Hermione, her expression hardening with resolve. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement and gave Hermione a wobbly smile.

"Okay?" asked Hermione. Her right fist was closed tightly around the handle of her wand.

"Okay," acknowledged Marcella. Then she looked around at the heavy metal cell doors appraisingly. "But how are we going to get out of here, Hermione?"

Hermione dithered for a moment, her fingers flexing on her wand. If she did magic, then she would be seen.... But if she didn't.... She got to her feet stiffly and inspected the lock of the gate. It was a huge lock, and the mechanism was hidden. Experimentally, she rattled the cage door. It did not budge. There was nothing for it. She looked quickly back over her shoulder. Marcella had turned around and was trying to explain to the other prisoners that they were going to try to escape.

Hermione turned quickly back around, pointed her wand at the lock and whispered, "Alohomora!"

To her dismay, nothing happened. Shit!

Hermione had Side-Along-Apparated Severus from the corridors outside the Manticore's cage, so she knew that she could Apparate within Pompeii, but this door was warded magically. She worried that if she tried to Apparate out, she'd splinch herself and anyone that she took with her. Not worth the risk, she thought. I just need a stronger incantation....

After a few more moments' thought, Hermione focused her intent on the lock and felt her power begin to channel once more though her wand. "Aperire Portus!"

To her satisfaction, the lock snapped open, and the cage door began to move. She spun around happily and gestured for Marcella to come closer. She waited until she joined her at her elbow. Marcella frowned at the open door and flicked a surprised look at Hermione, who met her eyes steadily and tightened her lips. Marcella nodded slowly without breaking eye contact, not pursuing the point. The two women turned to look through the cage bars towards where the entrance portal appeared to be beyond the brazier.

"We need to get across the cavern to the other side." Hermione whispered, gesturing with her free hand. Marcella reached out and grabbed it in a convulsive grip.

"We have to be careful not to wake them!" she hissed. "The dancers are dangerous."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at her companion.

"I have seen such terrible things, Hermione," the woman explained. "They are not really... human." Marcella's face was pale under the grime and blood smeared across her face.

Hermione looked again at the sleeping dancers, lying curled and entwined about each other. The air seemed to shimmer slightly about them as she stared, and she thought once more of the concealment charms that swathed Sabazios in his glamours.

Right, then. Don't wake the dancers, she thought, doing her best to quell the sense of nausea in the pit of her stomach.

She turned again to face Marcella. "Get them up," she said quietly. "We have to get past the dancers to that point on the other side of the cavern so we can escape."

***

Snape stalked through the city. The night had set in, and the moon was full, casting its silver light on the streets around him.

The evening was warm and heavy with excitement and anticipation. Braziers were still being maintained in the streets in honour of Vulcan. He skirted past a group of people in a bar drinking and chatting noisily. It was impossible to judge the exact time, but Severus knew that the first major eruption of the volcano supposedly occurred at around midday on the day after the Vulcanalia. Tomorrow. There were only hours to go before the mountain exploded. He had to find her... He had to find her.

Without a wand, he was unable to Apparate. Miss Granger (she was back to being Miss Granger in his mind) must have left it in the Manticore's cell when he was injured. Bloody woman.

He moved as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. His bones were mended, and the soft tissue injuries were easing thanks to the medication he had made for himself and taken, although he felt far from perfectly fit.

Adrenaline was also lending him its benefits, as was anger. How dare she Stupefy him! Conviva was beside him, prattling away, but Severus barely paid him any attention.

Fighting through her Stunning Spell had taken a considerable effort of will. He had drawn upon all of his magical reserves and mental discipline to dismantle her curse, marshalling his will against hers to enable him to break through and awaken, driven by his anger and humiliation at what she had witnessed in his mind.

When he had finally felt the vice of her curse lift, he had been disorientated and confused, blundering around the laboratory trying to recover. He was a little better now, but his head was still swimming with disjointed images, and his heart swelled with emotions that he was fighting to control. He had to focus – regain his composure and equilibrium – if he was to be able to think clearly enough to find the irritating woman and save her from Sabazios.

Minutes later, they were making their way towards the wider boulevards of the larger streets in the city. The number of party-goers, along with the level of noise and revelry, was increasing. The Vulcanalia celebrations were reaching their raucous peak.

Severus kept stomping along, pushing through groups of revellers and ignoring Conviva in his wake as he raced towards his goal.

The night air was gradually lending him more clarity.

He tried to cast his mind back to the jumble of thoughts he experienced as he came to consciousness. He had blacked out due to the pain from his shoulder as she was healing it. He scowled, concentrating fiercely and trying to put into place the exact run of events that led to her attack on him.

He remembered opening his mind to her inexpert Legilimency. He had shown her images of how a shoulder should appear, highlighting the soft tissue and indicating where his own injuries were located, so that she could heal him effectively. He winced as he recalled her incantation and the shifting of jagged bone against the shredded nerves in his shoulder. Then he remembered how the pain had reached intolerable levels, how he had clamped down on his tongue, tasted blood in his mouth and then felt... nothing....

He swerved to avoid a particularly drunken party-goer, pushed him away and resumed his urgent progress along the street, trying to think how he might have upset her. Behind him, he was dimly aware of the "Oouff!" that meant that Conviva had run into the same enebriated reveller. He scowled, shaking his head, and returned to his thoughts.

The rest of his healing was a disorientating shuffle of memories and emotions, marking the difference between his waking mind and his unconscious. He became increasingly uncomfortable as he relived the dreams that he had awakened from.

His stomach clenched as he remembered dreaming of her looking at his memories of Voldemort and the Shrieking Shack. He saw through her eyes his collapse to the floor, his futile fingers clutching at his bleeding neck. He watched as she hovered over him.

When he had burst back to consciousness on the pallet in his lab, she had been looking at his Horcrux, slippery in her hands, as he gasped for breath.

He faltered a little as the realisation struck him that his selfish act of self-preservation was possibly out in the open.

Oh, fuck. Does she know? Fuck.

He was still holding the perfume bottle in his hand, the broken chain wrapped around his fingers. He had felt her fascination for the little flacon when they had shared each others' thoughts, how comfortable it had made her feel. She was warmed by it. The thought made him feel hot and uncomfortable as he stumbled onwards through the city streets, the bottle gripped in his fist.

He had to return it to her. It did not feel right in his possession. She had kept it all these years, and she must have it back. Foolish woman, throwing it away like that!

He dodged another reveller and pushed another out of the way.

Anger was quickly replaced by anxiety. The feeling thrummed through his chest, adding to the awareness of tightness there, as his damaged muscles and ligaments mended. He had to find her... had to find her.

A rough thump on his injured arm brought him back to reality. "Are you even listening to me?" Conviva's voice was raised in annoyance and frustration. Severus scowled afresh at him but still did not stop walking.

"I said," Conviva continued, "that I'm late for my arrangement to meet Restitutus and Marcus in Ornatus' Bar, just off the Forum. As you seem intent on ignoring me completely, I'm bloody going."

Snape spun around. "You should be going straight to the docks," he said through gritted teeth, fixing Conviva with a fierce glare. "That fucking mountain is going to explode and destroy the whole bloody town in about..." Snape looked up at the moon wildly, trying to judge where it was in the sky. "Eleven hours' time."

Conviva made a contemptuous noise and rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Severus. That's what Hermione told Marcella. Don't be ridiculous! Look about you!" Conviva indicated the bars and revelry, the lit braziers and the happy celebratory music surrounding them. "Vulcan is happy, Severus! He is loved and being honoured by our celebrations!"

"I don't have time for this, you stupid man," Snape hissed. "Go and have a great time. It will be your last evening on earth unless you do what I say."

Conviva snorted and clapped him on the arm, and Severus recoiled. With one final glare of desperation and frustration over his friend's pig-headed attitude, Severus watched Conviva turn down the main street at the junction towards the Forum, while Severus continued onwards towards Sabazios' lair.

***

There was little sound in the cavern.

Slowly and quietly, Hermione led the small group of terrified captives across the harsh grit of the cavern floor. They had managed to get the door of the cage open without attracting attention, thanks to Hermione's muttered Silencing Charm, and they were now edging their way with extreme caution past the group of sleeping initiates that were lying around the fire.

Hermione's breathing was harsh in her ears. With infinite care, she led the ragtag line of Pompeiians across the gritty floor of the cavern, picking her way past the sleeping figures of the dancers on the floor. She could feel the unpleasant sensation of sweat trickling down the small of her back underneath the rough material of her tunica. Beside her, Marcella stumbled along, one hand locked on Hermione's wrist, her other hand clasped around that of the elderly Pompeiian woman.

With each faltering step, Hermione became more and more nervous. She could see her goal – the dark overhanging rock wall on the opposite side of the cavern. At her feet, the sleeping women barely stirred. Hermione frowned as she saw the softly shimmering evidence of concealment charms playing across the dancers' skins. She moved her wand slowly in front of her in a protective arc, her mind on the next step... then the next.

She was beginning to relax, and her heartbeat was slowing. Just keep walking... Just keep walking, she repeated to herself.

They were getting closer to the far wall. Come on... Come on... Just a few more steps... Hermione winced as Marcella's fingers tightened on her arm, squeezing the already bruised skin.

They were almost past the dancers when two things happened at roughly the same time.

There was a sudden rumbling noise, and the ground beneath her feet began to shake violently.

Concurrently, rocks became dislodged from the ceiling of the cavern and began to rain down on their heads.

Hermione ducked instinctively, but it was a couple of seconds before she had the clarity of mind to use her wand to cast a quick Protego Charm over herself and those she was trying to save.

Some of the rocks, however, found their mark – slamming down on the bodies of the unconscious dancers. Howls of dismay and sibilant hisses began to sound from the waking initiates as, one by one, the dancers uncoiled themselves from their sleeping positions and began to rise to their feet. Hermione kept moving, backing away from the nearest initiates and bringing Marcella with her.

She was not able to look where she was going very well, however, and suddenly, there was a fearsome screech and a hissing noise very close to her, and then Hermione felt a cold and clammy hand around her lower leg. She reared backwards, pulling away from the female dancer who had wound her hand around her limb. As she pulled away, she kicked out with the trapped leg and caught the female firmly under her chin. The beautiful skin and features of the dancer discoloured and then melted away, only to be replaced by reptilian scales and flattened snake-like features. The creature was revealed in its true form. Hermione kicked out again, and the beast unhinged its jaws and bared its fangs in anger. Marcella shrieked and helped Hermione to stay on her feet as she lashed out again at the snake-woman.

***

When the tremor hit the city, Snape was virtually at the Castellum Aquae. As the ground began to shake, he broke into a run, pounding towards the large red brick building that jutted out into the thoroughfare on the Via Stabiana.

He reached the building quickly and found the door unlocked and unwarded. He shoved it open and raced inside.

The torch-lit corridor sped past him as he half-ran, half-skidded towards the central chamber that he knew was at the end, gathering his strength and preparing himself for the confrontation to come. Wandless magic was crude and took a lot of energy, and he was tired to the point of exhaustion already.

He pushed through the door at the end of the corridor, catching hold of the door frame as the ground continued to rumble and shake under his feet, expecting to encounter the usual scenes of revelry and sybaritic indulgence within the deserted cistern that he was used to seeing from his previous audiences with the god.

His breath caught in his throat, and he choked.

Nothing.

The Castellum was an empty space. There was no evidence of any habitation in the rough concrete cistern whatsoever.

He paused at the top of the staircase and looked down at the floor of the unoccupied water tank to take in the vacant scene before him as the floor shook beneath his booted feet.

He felt utterly numb. Sabazios was gone. Hermione was not there either. Where is she? Shit! Shit!

The ground continued to rumble underfoot, making him tighten his grip on the doorway to keep standing. He could feel a faint tingle against his fingertips as he gripped the wooden door frame, but he dismissed it impatiently as muscle tension. His mind was reeling with something like panic as he stared about him at the empty room. Where is she? Where's Sabazios? Oh, God! Am I too late already?

Severus shook himself, forced himself to take a breath, to be calm. Can't stay here. Must move on and find her.

Where in all the hells would she be?

He concentrated hard, trying to feel the wards he had put in place on the city walls. With some relief he felt them there, a tingle on the edge of his consciousness. If Sabazios had tried to breach them, he would know, wouldn't he? He raked his fingers through his hair. What if it had happened when he had been unconscious? He had to hope that the god was still within the city.

Snape's head snapped up.

Vulcanalia – the perfect opportunity for Sabazios to give his new 'Death Eaters' an opportunity to be seen about the city during the celebrations! If Hermione had reached him with the Metamorphmagus Potion, then perhaps he and his supporters were testing their enhanced powers like Voldemort's supporters had done all those years ago.... He had a sudden memory of Albus Dumbledore's staff briefing before the beginning of the school year in 1994, in which the Headmaster had described the Death Eaters' rampage at the Quidditch World Cup. The screams of frightened people... the bodies of Muggles hanging like ragdolls in midair. Snape groaned. Oh, Hermione! Where are you?

His hand grasped the little glass pendant so tightly it felt as if it were cutting into his flesh. His belly ached. He had to try to find her. He would tear the city apart if necessary.

Severus turned and ran out of the Castellum Aquae, heading towards the Forum.

***

"Expulso!" Hermione shouted, and a green jet of fire shot out from the end of her wand, catching the reptilian creature full in the face and throwing it into the fires of the brazier. Elsewhere, other dancers had been awakened by the shower of rocks from the ceiling. Hermione watched in horror as one creature grabbed the young woman she had tried to speak to earlier. It pulled the girl's head back and sank its teeth into her white throat. The girl went down in a mass of flailing limbs and spurting arterial blood. Eagerly, other snake-like creatures leapt upon her to join their fellow's feast.

Hermione wrenched her vision away from the sight of the young woman's twitching limbs and screamed, "Run!" She grabbed Marcella and pushed her towards the far side of the cavern. Marcella did not need telling twice. Grabbing up her long skirts, the Pompeiian dashed for the safety of the far wall.

The dancers were moving aggressively towards the escaping humans, but in their true forms, they were slower and less nimble. Hermione shot curse after curse at them, blasting them away from the fleeing Pompeiians. She grabbed at least three other people and shoved them after Marcella.

"What are you doing?" Marcella's voice was hysterical, her eyes as wide as saucers as she saw the green spell-fire erupt from Hermione's wand and cut into the advancing snake dancers. "What is that?"

Hermione nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

Marcella's eyes were wide with confusion and fear as she struggled to comprehend such power. Where do I even begin? thought Hermione, drawing breath to try to explain.

But before she could say anything, a dancer leapt at them, its arms and fingers outstretched. Hermione shouted out in alarm and reflexively shot another curse at it.

Marcella screamed, but another thunderous noise from the ceiling distracted them both.

Hermione's Shield Charm was holding, but only just. The roof was coming down more rapidly than before as the ground continued to shake. Larger and larger boulders were falling to the floor of the cavern, bouncing and rolling on impact.

One rock hit the brazier in the middle of the floor, and it exploded in a shower of oil and flames, some of which doused the nearest snake dancers and set them ablaze. The room instantly became much darker, and the remaining creatures began to move more quickly towards the small group that were cowering in the shadow of the rock overhang on the far side of the cavern.

Pulling one last Pompeiian with her – a boy of about nine years old – Hermione scrambled for the portal on the far wall. Marcella was waiting there, screaming for Hermione to hurry up. Hermione turned and fired off a few more curses as she stumbled across the last twenty feet of space.

"What do we do now?" Marcella shrieked in Hermione's ears. The sounds in the chamber were deafening.

Perhaps this is it? Hermione suddenly thought in horror, casting a final Petrificus Totalus on the last two snake dancers. She saw them hit, stiffen and fall, feeling a savage sense of satisfaction. What if this is the eruption itself? Oh, GOD! What the hell am I going to do? But almost as soon as those thoughts came to her, the rumbling noise from the earthquake abated and the ground calmed.

In the sudden silence that followed, Hermione heard the angry flames that were still blazing in the remnants of the brazier and on the bodies of some of the fallen creatures. Marcella and the other captives were crying and terrified when Hermione reached them. Only six people had made it past the dancers, including Hermione and the boy she was leading.

Marcella kept looking behind Hermione's shoulder at the carnage in the centre of the cavern, but Hermione focused her attention on the walls in front of her as she searched desperately for the trigger that would activate the portal back to the Castellum Aquae.

After a few moments of frantic searching, her hand seemed to disappear in front of her and fall into the bare rock. Shaking with relief, Hermione called to the others to follow her through the gate to freedom.

***

Severus pushed his way through large groups of drunken citizens as he forced his way through the crowds towards the Forum. There seemed little evidence of the recent earth tremor aside from some broken roof tiles in the street. Clearly, the recent shock waves had not blunted the Pompeiians' appetite for a good street party.

He looked up at the moon again and wondered how many hours he had until daybreak, the beginning of the last day that the city would see before Vesuvius destroyed it.

His instincts were screaming at him to head for the centre of the city.

He would check the Forum for her and, if she were not at the Forum, then he would head back towards his home and look for her there. Surely, she would still be alive? His head swam with the possibility that she had been killed, and he gripped the little glass phial once more. She couldn't be dead; she was too powerful for that... too resourceful... too intelligent. He would feel it if she were gone. He remembered too well what that sensation was like.

Severus gritted his teeth. He would find Hermione and a way out of Pompeii.

This time they would both endure.

Old survival habits were hard to break.

He turned the final corner from the Via Flaminia into the northern entrance to the Forum and took in the street theatre that was playing out in front of him in the largest open space in the city.

A series of enormous male figures were striding in tandem about the area before the side wall of the Temple of Apollo. Flames were shooting from their hands and landing in huge conflagrations on the granite-slabbed pavements. The crowd were hugely entertained. To them, it appeared that these huge figures of men were some kind of clever illusion, an extraordinary part of the Vulcanalia celebrations.

The blood seemed to freeze in his body. Quickly, he darted to his right, flattening himself against one of the old fluted columns of the building he was now standing next to.

As Snape watched, transfixed, from his vantage point at the side of the steps of the dilapidated Temple of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, the central figure of the group, a huge golden figure that Severus recognised immediately as Sabazios himself, stepped forward and bowed to the crowd before him.

"People of Pompeii! Whom do you worship tonight?" Sabazios' voice was magically amplified, and it echoed around the tall buildings that flanked the central area of the Forum.

The crowd was good natured. Street theatre was commonplace in the city. A few shouted back praises for Vulcan, others pushed forward to get a better view of the action. Snape felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to climb. He strained to see more. Was she there? Did they have her?

"No, my people..." Sabazios' beatific smile was otherworldly, serene and virtuous. His followers stood about him. "Vulcan has no power here.... Tonight you will see a real god before you, and you will worship him."

"Ha! Hera's tits!" A shout rang out from the crowd, and Snape saw a thickset and pugnacious Pompeiian step forward from the crowd, his hands on his hips. Severus recognised the man from the butcher's shop near his house.

Sabazios looked around and down at the short human who was confronting him. He whispered something, and the man slowly rose in the air in front of the crowd. The audience clapped and whistled in appreciation, utterly fascinated by the illusion before them. The Pompeiian's mouth opened and shut as he screamed for help, his hand clutching at his mouth, but Sabazios had clearly cast some sort of Silencing Charm on him because he made no noise as he slowly revolved about twenty feet off the ground.

Snape's fingers convulsed on the cold marble of the column he was sheltering behind. He had a familiar feeling of dread about this....

Sabazios lifted his hands, and suddenly, his body shimmered and seemed to elongate. It appeared that he was no longer on his feet. His legs were apparently joining together and extending into a giant, curled tail. The crowd roared its appreciation at the wondrous sight.

Severus noticed that Sabazio's supporters were slowly working their way around the outskirts of the crowd.

The Pompeiian was still levitated, spinning in midair. His arms were waving with almost comic abandon.

Sabazios' body began weaving sinuously, its tail coiling and recoiling as it moved slowly towards its levitated victim.

With an exaggerated sense of theatricality, Sabazios slowly plucked the silently screaming man out of the air and slowly brought him closer and closer to its smiling mouth.

***

Hermione emerged gasping from the magical portal into the cool atmosphere of the abandoned water cistern in the Castellum Aquae. Around her, the other escapees were crying out wordlessly in their relief and scrambling to climb the stone steps to rapidly get away from the place.

Hermione caught hold of Marcella. "We need to find Severus and Conviva!" she said urgently. Marcella nodded blankly, but made no move to turn towards the staircase and the exit corridor. Evidently, the events of the past few minutes and hours had completely overwhelmed her.

Hermione caught Marcella's arm in a firm grip. "Take a deep breath and shut your eyes," she said clearly to the older woman. Destination, determination, deliberation, she thought firmly in her mind and Disapparated.

*

Hermione landed in chaos, slipped and fell. She was inside Severus' bath suite, lying awkwardly on her back, with Marcella half-draped across her body on the mosaic floor. She winced. The floor was no longer a flat surface. The earthquake that she had felt in the cavern had clearly had a much stronger impact on the house than the last major one that had hit. She could feel that the tesserae of the mosaic underneath her had split and broken, and sharp edges were digging into her shoulder. Dust swirled about them. Quickly, she focused her attention on the walls and ceiling. They seemed stable and solid. Snape's protections had held, even though the floor had split from beneath.

Marcella coughed violently and gagged in the choking atmosphere, pushing herself off Hermione and rocking backwards onto her haunches.

She put both hands to her head and looked about, her eyes wide and frightened. "Did... did I black out?" she asked in a tremulous whisper and then succumbed to another bout of coughing.

Hermione sat up and wafted her hand in front of her face to clear the dust a little. "Not exactly," she replied.

"Where are we?" Marcella's voice was cracked with fear.

"Severus' house, don't you recognise it?" Hermione answered, pushing herself to her feet and swaying a little with the effort of doing so. "Conviva?" she called, assuming that both Marcella's husband and the unconscious Severus would still be next door.

Hermione looked around her at the damage in the bathroom. Truth be told, the impact of the earthquake had only seemingly been felt on the floor. Hermione could see that the image of the laughing skeleton was split and torn open. The red, sandy earth underneath the image was spilling up through the gashes in the mosaic. As she looked, she could also see something else peeping up through the tesserae... a flash of pale parchment...? No, tougher than paper... papyrus?

"Conviva's here? And Severus? Oh, thank the gods!" Marcella's voice was strengthened with hope, and it distracted Hermione from her study of the floor.

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Marcella's wrist and pulling her to her feet.

She led the taller woman out of the bathroom suite, across the hallway, and into the laboratory.

But when they opened the door, the room was empty.

Severus and Conviva were gone.