Aftermath

Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to JKR, and this is a work of fanfiction.

* * *

When Severus got outside the gates to the Apparition point, the others had gone. In the instant before Disapparating, he turned to glimpse the Mark floating over the castle. The next moment he was leaning against the inside of his door at Spinner's End, heart thumping, staring up at the darkened stairs, the glow of Morsmordre still fading from his sight.

He allowed himself one breath before pulling the Marauders' Map from his pocket.

'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,' he said.

Potter was on the ground where Severus had left him; as he watched, the boy began moving back towards the castle. In the shadow of the Astronomy Tower, people were gathering, already forming a dense, illegible mass of ink in a semicircle around a small patch of empty space. Severus flicked his eyes around the castle. Yes. Everyone was still moving towards the dead man. Not yet outwards in pursuit. He would have a few minutes.

'Mischief managed.'

He pocketed the map and strode to the kitchen. He yanked open a cupboard door and transferred a phial from his pocket to the jumbled shelf, then took out two phials, a jar, and two paper bags and jammed them into a string bag. He cast a spell over the cupboard, the magic seeping into the wood like oil into earth.

In the sitting room, he undid the Disillusion charms on the volumes of history and geography into the Dark works they really were. Working quickly, he grabbed two, four, six, seven volumes not entirely at random, shrank them, and slipped them into the bag.

If he hadn't paused for a moment to take a last look around the dingy little room he'd known since infancy, he wouldn't have heard the crack of Apparition at the door. As the front of his house exploded inwards, he turned on the spot.

He reappeared in the LeStranges' Apparition chamber.

'What took you so long?' growled Yaxley, stepping forward. 'The others got here three minutes ago.'

'Mmmm.' He didn't owe Yaxley an explanation. 'Is he here?'

'Of course. He's waiting in the library.' Together, they walked up the stairs and down the hall. Severus drew ahead to push open the door and, without hesitation, he strode towards the Dark Lord, who was standing before the hearth.

'Severus. What news?'

'It is done, my lord.'

'So I have heard.' Voldemort was almost vibrating with impatience. 'I want to see.' He reached down to tip Severus's chin up and dived into his mind.

'Oh, how priceless!' he hissed. 'The great Albus Dumbledore begging.' Voldemort put on a pleading tone. '"Please, Severus. Pleeeaaasse." And pfffftt. Dead just the same. Why did you delay bringing me this, Severus? A sentimental visit home?'

'No sentiment, my lord. There were a few things I wanted, and I believed I had a minute or two before I'd be pursued. They arrived just as I left. It's unlikely I'll be able to go back there for some time.'

'Not so very long, Severus. Soon you will be able to go anywhere you choose. Or, rather, anywhere I choose.'

Severus bowed in acknowledgment. 'Where is Draco?'

'Oh, he's here,' said Voldemort. 'He's with his Mummy. And Daddy is winging his way here as we speak. All is forgiven. It's a jubilee.' He skimmed his thin hand along the mantelpiece, finishing with a flick of the fingers. 'I'll be moving to Malfoy Manor presently. We need somewhere... more... spacious.'

The Malfoys were all alive, then...for the moment at least. And Draco was no longer in his charge. Severus found he felt no desire at all to see Draco, or his grateful mother, just yet.

The news about Lucius was not surprising. Voldemort would need free access to Lucius's money, now that things were really moving. Captive with his family in his own house, cheek by jowl with his master, Lucius would be less able to protect or conceal his assets. And coming home to a house where his guest was his master...that would be more humiliating in its way than staying in Azkaban. Lucius would find himself on a very short, very galling lead indeed.

Keep your friends close...

'Indeed, my lord,' said Severus.

'Well,' said Voldemort, taking a seat before the fire and indicating an empty chair. 'Onwards. I have an errand for you in Brussels. You and Petain leave in the morning. Sit down and I will tell you about it.'

'Yes, my lord.' He sat.

...and your enemies closest.

* * *

He pounded the door until it shook in its frame.

He stopped pounding and turned around in the freezing dark. A great heap of clothing lay on the ground a few feet away.

Dead. Terror and despair surged in him. Dream, this is my dream, I can control it... He stared at the dead man, his pulse slowing. Did it to himself. Deserved it. Idiot. Glad he's dead.

Terror and despair leached away as he stared. He grew harder, sharper, until at last he stood revelling in his cold bright edges.

The door slammed shut.

Severus wrenched himself out of the dream and awoke panting. He turned his head on the pillow. Moonlight was faint on an unfamiliar carpet and it took him several seconds to get his bearings. He was in the LeStranges' house.

Dumbledore. He closed his eyes again and put his hand over them, and the hand was trembling. An urge to move overtook him, and he flung aside the covers and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. He stood on the cold floor for some minutes. He did not turn on the light, or look in the mirror.

Back in bed, he laid his hands across his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

Murderer. He weighed the word. Yes, he was that. Stare at it: murderer. Grab hold and claim it: murderer. Fit it into the old, well-worn grooves: I am a murderer.

When he could look at the word without sickening, he began working backwards from the word to the deed. I killed him. He needed to die, and I did it.

He twitched, impatient. Self-justifying bollocks. He tried again...lingering on the tower, seeing again the black shadows and silver moonlight of the scene, hearing the sound of Albus's begging words, feeling the anguish and rage peaking and pulling the killing spell out of him. I hated him, and I killed him.

There. No excuses. He stayed with it as long as he could, hardening his heart.

Then he sat up and pulled from his pocket a small tin labelled Thanatos Potts's Liquorice Allsorts. He opened it and stuck the tip of his wand right in among the contents. 'Pov'yazuyut' nas,' he murmured, and amber light shone briefly in the darkness.

One after another, he plucked the little shards of caramel from the tin and crunched them between his teeth, working his way through them without pause. When they were gone, so was that particular temptation. There would be no desperate sneaking 'visit' to her some night when he'd contrived to convince himself he could no longer bear the separation.

He lay back. The burnt sugar melted into him and flowed through his blood to every last dark and secret place.

After a time, he closed his eyes and rolled over on his side, curling up into himself a little. The shadows in the room were softening to grey when he finally let himself sleep.

* * *

The grey light of dawn came long after Hermione had given up on the notion of sleep, and she welcomed it. Now at least she could get up and leave the dormitory. She pulled on her running clothes.

There were aurors posted at the main door, which shouldn't have surprised her, but did. And she was surprised again when they let her go out of the castle. 'Stay on the paths and within the grounds,' said the shorter one. 'You'll be quite safe.'

She damped down a bubble of hysterical laughter. What a perfectly brainless thing to say, she thought, though she guessed he meant well. No one was safe anymore, not at Hogwarts or anywhere else.

Hermione turned and looked back towards the castle, at the sky over the Astronomy Tower now innocently pale and clear of any trace of the Dark Mark, and at the grass at the tower's base, now empty of the Headmaster's body.

She chose a path that skirted the Quidditch pitch and then along the edge of the forest before bending back down towards the lake. It was so early no one was in the sky above the pitch...or maybe the aurors were not yet allowing flight within the grounds.

She ran hard, determined to purge the feelings of helpless terror and anxiety that had kept her up all night. She had a set of facts and reasonable inferences about the state of her world at the moment, and she could use them either to feed her worry or to make her plans. The night had been for worry. Today was for thought and action.

By the time she reached the lake, she had made a short list of priorities. Top of the list was safety for her parents. She could risk anything if only they were safe. But how to make them so?

The answer bubbled up in her mind, and it was so shocking that she gasped and stopped dead in her tracks. 'No,' she whispered. 'No, please. Please, no.' And her tears started to flow, because she knew. This was the only way.

She ran on, crying. As she reached the middle of the loop that sent the path back towards the castle, she slowed and stopped again. Something... what was it? Something about a liquid Obliviate that was fully reversible... where had she read about it? She could not remember. If Snape were here...but of course he was not... Lupin? Somehow she associated this idea with him. Had he mentioned it in DADA in her third year?

Running again, slowly, she thought feverishly. She must send them away. And she must Obliviate them, for their own safety and hers. But if there was such a thing as this dimly remembered potion, and she could protect her parents without losing them forever, that would be... god, that would be almost bearable.

Even so, she'd get no help from them. Surely they would never consent to leaving her behind in the centre of all the danger. Well. She narrowed her eyes. I'll have to convince them, somehow.

If Lupin could help her with the potion, she could do the rest. It would be huge...making new lives for two people in another part of the world, with jobs and a house and immigration paperwork and money and enough false memories to make them feel comfortable and sane...

She pelted the last hundred or so yards to the castle door, past the aurors, and up, up to the Owlery. She watched the owl out of sight, then headed back to her dormitory to shower and start making her lists.

* * *

Lupin got to Hogwarts before her owl ever reached him...of course he had come as quickly as possible, even though he had no official reason to be there. The owl, after doubling back without rest, was exhausted and irritable when Lupin finally untied the message from its neck, and it pecked his hand. And it was another hour before he found Hermione in the Great Hall and pulled her aside into a cloakroom.

'I do know it,' said Lupin in answer to her question. 'Or at least I know of it. I've never seen it before, though, never made it. Why d'you want to know?'

She told him.

He was silent for a moment, leaning slump-shouldered against a table, his eyes on the floor. When he raised them to hers, they were full of sadness. 'Are you sure?' he asked. 'This is... I hardly know what to say.'

'Say you'll help me, Professor,' she said. 'Harry needs my help, and I need to help him, but I can't if my parents are vulnerable. This is the best way I can think of to keep them safe. You know... you know the Ministry won't be any good for this. I want them... I want them out of Britain. Invisible. And if this potion exists, and I can use it, then I can also hope that I'll' she gulped 'that I'll see them again. When it's all over. And if I don't make it, or we lose, then, then they will still have a happy life. It's... help me, Professor Lupin. Please.'

He straightened. 'Well. If he were here, and also not a murdering traitor, I'd ask for Snape's help. Instead, we'll look at his books and stores, see what we can find. I'll ask Minerva for permission to go down there...meet me in half an hour outside his door, yes?'

She flung herself at him and hugged him hard. 'Oh, thank you, Professor Lupin!'

'Oh, now, Hermione, that's...' He patted her awkwardly on the back and turned his head away to avoid getting her hair up his nose. 'That's all right.' He stepped back and smiled at her. 'And really, you can start calling me Remus, you know. We're more colleagues now than student and teacher, yes?'

'Yes. Um, Remus.' She smiled back at him. 'Feels odd, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. See you in half an hour. And thank you, again, so much.'

'Well, we'll see how helpful I'll be. It's a bit of a long shot. But we'll try.'

* * *

The fact that they found the very book they needed on Professor Snape's shelves before they'd searched an hour almost made Hermione soften towards the man. And when investigation of his stores showed that the ingredients they needed were there and in sufficient quantities... well, she could have hugged him. She hugged herself instead.

Lupin had the book open on one of Snape's stained work tables, studying the relevant page intently. 'This involves quite a feat of Legilimency, to begin with. I think... I think I can do it. But Hermione.' He looked at her gravely. 'The altered memories...the new life we need to give them...that's rather another matter. Usually you'd want to go through the Ministry for that sort of thing. It's that or the black market. Hard to know which would be less dangerous in this case, but... let me work a Ministry angle. My contact is in the Order and also a delegate to the International Congress of Magical Witness Protection Programmes. You'd want to place them in, maybe, North America, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa...anywhere else? Ireland?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Too close. Maybe it wouldn't matter, but I want them far away. On Jupiter if I could manage it. But Australia would do nicely.'

'We'll try for Australia, then. I'll get in touch with Stygia tonight. Now let's talk about how we'll capture the memories. Are you certain you can't do this with their freely given cooperation?'

'I am. If I tell them what danger they're in because of me...what danger I'm in...they'll never leave me here. Dad especially.'

'Are you prepared to cast Imperio on your own parents, then? Because that's what it will take...to get them to tie up the ends of their lives here and prepare to go abroad, and to submit to some very extensive Legilimency.'

She hadn't actually thought of that part. The tears she'd been suppressing very successfully came quite close to the surface. He was right, she knew he was. What a nightmare.

She set her jaw. 'I'll do whatever it takes. Anything. Even that.'

* * *

A/N: Pov'yazuyut' nas: "bind us" (Ukrainian)