Twenty Nine: Tell Me No Secrets, And I'll Tell You No Lies

It's been awhile, and I do need to periodically reiterate that I do not own any of the characters I am so wantonly playing with. They belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. If they belonged to me, they would get lots more chocolate and lots less heartache.

Thank you to stgulik, my phenomenal beta. You just have no idea how necessary she is to this story. Many thanks to the LJ 'Teddypeeps' who constantly encourage me to keep writing, and to you, for staying with this story after over a year of working on it.

---

I want you when you are close to me, I want you never to be far

I know you have laid a trap for me, yes, I know you, but not as who you are

Black on the ground, I am still as a stone, whatever changed my love to despair?

Light through the clouds trapped the scent of a soul, in a moment, my love, I am captured, captured

---

"Whore of Gryffindor. Whore, Whore of Gryffindor!"

Hermione walked faster.

"Whore, Whore of Gryffindor! Whore, Whore of Gryffindor!"

Other voices picked up the chant. Voices she recognised. Voices of students that used to call her a friend.

"Whore, Whore of Gryffindor! Whore, Whore of Gryffindor!"

She rounded a corner and headed toward the Infirmary, trying to walk quickly but not run. The voices grew louder and closer, the chant reverberating off the walls.

"Whore, Whore of Gryffindor! Whore, Whore of Gryffindor!"

She tried to keep her Occlumency walls high. She did not want Severus to hear this. She yelped as something hard struck her shoulder, and she looked around to raise a shield in her defense. She turned to see a group of third years streaming out of Muggle Studies, chanting and taunting her. Alecto Carrow was encouraging them.

Hermione sobbed and broke into a run, screaming, "Stop it! Stop it, please!"

"Whore, Whore of Gryffindor! Whore, Whore of Gryffindor!"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S BEARD IS GOING ON OUT HERE?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice thundered in the hallway, outside the Infirmary. Hermione stumbled past her and into the safety of the Infirmary just as Alecto Carrow mocked her in a sing-song voice. "Stop it! Stop it!"

Laughter surrounded her. Alecto turned a contemptuous eye toward Hermione and gestured with a sneer. "See? I told you, didn't I? Mud-" She caught herself as Poppy glared at her. The flat-faced Death Eater continued in a mockingly sweet, falsely contrite voice, "-I mean, Muggle-born - are very thin-skinned. Weak, whinging. No staying power. A drain on the Magical world, you see," she finished, a note of commiseration staining her coarse, guttural tone. "Poor Headmaster Snape. One has to pity him, saddled with that one. A lesson in the dangers of making foolish choices, boys and girls."

She brightened, never taking her eyes from Hermione. "Come along, class. Next I'll show you how to spot a Muggle-born on sight. Of course, soon they'll be all but extinct, but until that day..." She laughed raucously, earning a snigger from several Slytherins. Not a few students from other houses joined in as well.

As the group turned and headed down the hall, Poppy stood at the door of the Infirmary, seething. "Odious bitch!" she hissed under her breath. She turned to Hermione, who stood shaking in the corner. Poppy's face softened. "Oh, Hermione, what happened?" She put her arm around the trembling young woman and led her back into her domain. "Let's get you a cup of tea and a Calming Draught..."

---

He knew she was holding something back from him. As they sat by the fire on one of the first uninterrupted evenings since returning to Hogwarts, Severus watched Hermione closely, as she looked through yet another book from the Headmaster's study. They had found two thus far that looked promising, and Hermione had spent the last two days meticulously translating one from its original Aramaic.

She had greeted him that evening with her usual warm, welcoming embrace, but there was something she was not telling him. He wanted to ask, but his own exhaustion and fear stilled the words on his lips. And so he sat, nursing a glass of wine, courtesy of the Malfoy cellars, and let his gaze rest on her. She chewed absently on the little scrap of her bottom lip, as she always did when lost in thought.

Just then, perhaps sensing his gaze, Hermione turned to her husband and gave him a smile of such warmth and acceptance it almost overwhelmed him. He looked down into his wineglass, and closed his eyes. I wish you would tell me what is troubling you, he whispered within their link, afraid she would hear, afraid she would not.

He looked up from his contemplation and saw her standing by his side. Wordlessly he drew her down to sit beside him, and she curled up against his side. As he drew her into his arms, she lay her head against his shoulder, her fingers absently toying with the buttons of his frock coat. He could all but hear the sigh in her inner voice. It's nothing important, and nothing worth mentioning, love. Truly. You must trust me on this.

She could feel him, gently but insistently pressing against her mind. Let me in, he entreated, like a whisper of smoke willing to seep through any crack in her defenses. He was tempted with a sharp, sweet longing to coax her waiting soul, to seduce her confession during a bout of that wild elation only he knew how to produce. But try as he might, this part of her she had closed away from him, and even though it was just a tiny part, it hurt that she would not share it with him. It was early days yet; how was he supposed to survive like this, especially if Hermione, too, hid away from him?

Severus stared into the fire, and tried to stop the self-pity and despair creeping into him. Not for the first time, he felt tears prick his eyes, and he looked up at the ceiling to stem them. She was protecting him again, and it hurt like hell – oh, yes, it hurt! She knew how the other professors shied away from him as he passed them in the halls. She had seen old colleagues stop talking as he approached, and quickly move away, as if afraid to be contaminated by his shadow falling upon them. She had seen the withering contempt in their faces, the accusatory glances, the hatred. It had hurt, but he could withstand it – he could withstand anything, as long as Hermione was safe, and they could keep Hogwarts together until the final endgame arrived and Potter fulfilled his bloody destiny.

Not since he was a boy here had the taunts of others affected him so much. He told himself he was no longer a sniveling student, and the foul names and vindictive derision no longer had the power to cut him. But he knew it was a lie even as he walked away. The students watched the professors snigger and snipe and whisper as he walked past; if the adults could get away with it, how much farther could a student venture?

Even with Hermione by his side, this semester was more hellish than any he had experienced since his first year as a green, unwelcome professor. He had been shunned then as well. The professors, mistrustful of his Death Eater past, had all but blanked him. It had been so hard, knowing that he was reviled and for good reason, but he had taken it and pretended it was actually his preference. After all, how could he expect to be accepted when he was unable to accept or forgive or even like himself?

Severus looked back into the fire, and pulled her closer. Whatever it was, maybe she would tell him eventually. In spite of her reassurances, he felt the pain of her secrecy, and it was like grief. For her to be withholding things from him in this stage of the game was not only worrisome, but potentially fatal.

---

"I said to you, Headmaster, I said that these blood traitors were an infestation in this school, didn't I? You both deserve nothing less than a hard session with Mr. Filch in the dungeons, and if I have my way, that's exactly what you'll get! I told you, didn't I, Headmaster? If I said it once I said it a thousand times-"

Severus stared at two defiant young girls as he arranged his face into cold, unreadable lines. Inwardly, he wanted to tell Amycus Carrow to shut the fuck up and let him think. The man was yammering on so that Severus could barely concentrate. The whining tones of his DADA professor curled around his head like a crown of thorns.

It had been after midnight when Severus had felt the wards in his study breached. It was a silent alarm of sorts, and he was dressed and out the door before Hermione could stir. He had arrived just in time to see Luna Lovegood and Ginevra Weasley lifting the Sword of Gryffindor from its place in a cabinet.

He had almost laughed at the outright audacity of these two clever little birds, their intent faces darting around almost constantly. He stepped out of the shadows and walked toward them, and Miss Lovegood, who had been more or less standing guard for Miss Weasley, casually tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "I'm afraid we weren't quite fast enough. Headmaster Snape has just arrived."

She sounded as if she were announcing him at a party, but Miss Weasley, who was holding the sword by the hilt, spun around so quickly she crashed the blade through the glass cabinet, smashing it to smithereens and making enough noise to wake the entire castle.

Severus had merely stood, waiting for the cringing girls to explain themselves, when Carrow burst through door, screaming, "Alright, you lot! The jig is up! I know you're in there and when Headmaster Snape finds out he'll-" He skidded to a halt upon seeing the Headmaster, then secured his title of Moron of the Year by blurting out, "What chew doin' 'ere?"

Severus glanced back at the girls for a moment. Miss Weasley met his gaze with a snarling defiance that irritated him more for its transparency than for any real perceived insult on his person. How stupid to be so open, so easy to read! Had she not learned anything under his tutelage last fall?

On the other hand, the Lovegood girl merely returned his gaze in her own slightly serene, off-kilter way, with no more insolence in her expression than if she were examining a stained glass window. She actually smiled at him when he caught her eye, and Severus had the rather disarming feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Fucking perfect, thought Severus. I've got Miss Hothead Gryffindor and Miss Away-With-The-Fairies to contend with, and will Carrow ever shut up?

"Now do you see what I am talking about, Headmaster? These two girls are a disgrace to their bloodlines! I insist that they be severely punished for this blatant disregard for your authority! You must acknowledge they've gone beyond the pale this time. If I were you I'd-"

"Professor Carrow, as you are not me, I would appreciate you allowing me to deal with the situation accordingly." He allowed himself a grim smile. "Now, would you please retrieve the artifact from Miss Weasley? It is quite heavy and no doubt tiring to hold."

As Severus sat down at his desk, he watched with amusement as Carrow reached for the sword. Miss Weasley, although she must have known she had lost the battle, stood her ground for a moment, holding the hilt with both hands in a battle stance. She faced Carrow, her rebellious eyes flashing a dare, her hands steady. Severus could not be sure that she wouldn't actually start swinging.

Carrow began to splutter. "How dare you threaten me, you little bitch! I'll have you in irons down in the dungeons!" Carrow turned to Severus, and he could see the challenge in the Pureblood's mind. If you don't do something about this, you greasy bastard, I will, and the Dark Lord will want to know why.

Deciding to stop this farce before someone actually got hurt, Severus used his expressive voice to its fullest potential, remembering that Miss Weasley was not a young woman used to being ordered about. He stood quickly and bellowed, "Miss Weasley! Stop this nonsense at once and give Professor Carrow the sword! Turn it around and present the hilt to him, now!"

Her head snapped toward the sound of his voice, and in a flash, he saw images in her mind, of finding Potter and taking the sword to him. He sensed her fear and anger, and for a moment, he felt sorry for her. Like all Hogwarts children, she was being forced to fight a war that her parents should have won years before she was born, and he of all people knew the damning, impotent feeling of helplessness.

Carrow whined, "Aw, why are you pussy-footing around with these little tarts? Imperius the bitch, I say-"

"Well, I do not say, Professor," Severus said, his voice low and dangerous. He shifted his gaze to the young Ravenclaw. In a tone softly laced with sinister enchantment, he murmured, "Miss Lovegood, please take the sword from Miss Weasley, and give it to Professor Carrow."

The young Ravenclaw calmly placed her hands over her friend's. "We need to give it back, Ginny. Harry will get the sword some other way."

As if in a trance, she allowed Miss Lovegood to take the sword from her hands, but instead of giving it to Carrow, she turned back to Severus. "Sir, I think it would be wiser for me to return the sword to you." She gave Carrow a look that bordered on pity. "I don't think it would like him too much, and a goblin-made sword can turn on the bearer if it doesn't trust him." She reverently placed the sword in Severus' outstretched hands. "I know you'll make sure it goes where it belongs, sir," she said matter-of-factly.

Carrow laughed then, a high-pitched giggle that made Severus' head feel like a balloon seconds away from the point of a pin. "Oh, that's rich!" He laughed and pointed at Miss Weasley. "You stupid little bint! All that work, and for what? The real sword is in a vault at Gringotts!" He crossed the room and laughed in the Gryffindor's face, an ugly, coarse sound. "Now, that's what you call ironic, innit? Getting your arse whipped raw over a bloody great counterfeit sword!"

She looked from Carrow to Snape, clearly trying to keep her emotions in check. Horror and realisation flitted across her face. Carrow grinned, and grasped each girl around a slender arm. "Come on, you lot! I've already sent word to Mr. Filch to ready his best birch rod-"

"Professor Carrow, I believe we have discussed on more than one occasion that as Headmaster, I decide what punishment the students will receive," Severus snapped. "And while I appreciate your advice, I see no reason for you to remain. As late as it is, I should think your sister will be wondering where you are." He cast a frigid glance over the heads of the two girls. "I will ensure Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood receive the detentions they are due and are returned to their dormitories. Goodnight, Professor."

Carrow looked like a child who had been deprived of a favourite toy. "Now, see here, Snape-"

"Good night, Professor!" Severus thundered. The bloody fool was inches away from being cursed and the girls from being Obliviated afterward. It was two in the bloody morning and Severus no longer cared about the niceties. "We will discuss this tomorrow, Professor."

Carrow drew himself up to his full five-foot-four, and stared at Severus. "Oh, yes, we will," he said, quietly, and a new, ugly light flashed in his eyes. "We will be discussing this at length, Headmaster."

Severus favoured him with a flat, sullen stare, which he tried fruitlessly to front out. Finally, seeing that he was overruled, Carrow turned, muttering threats under his breath. The two girls jumped as the study door slammed shut with a hollow bang.

Severus closed his eyes and counted to five. When he opened them, the two girls were staring at him, waiting. He carefully placed the sword on his desk, where it gleamed dully against the polished wood, and he could see the inscription in the light of his lamp. He rubbed his left eyebrow to ease the ache behind it. "Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood, will you kindly explain why you were in my office, attempting to steal one of the school's most valuable artifacts?"

Ginny looked at the sword, then back at him. "Why did he say it was fake? Is the true sword really at Gringotts?" She was looking at him with such hatred he could literally feel it radiating from her in waves.

Suddenly so weary he wanted to crawl into bed and never leave, Severus lowered his head, as he had so many times in class when he no longer could stand the sight of one more student. "A week's detention, Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood. You will serve it with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest. Report to him tomorrow evening." He looked up to find Ginny staring at him in confusion. "What?" he snapped. "Is a week's detention in the most dangerous place in Wizarding Britain too tame for you, Miss Weasley? Should I have indulged Professor Carrow and sent you to Filch to be beaten?"

He rose to his feet and walked toward the study door. In a voice that sounded much too tired even to his own ears, he said, "I'm not a monster, girl. But this will serve as your last warning. If you are caught in any other such infraction, I shall have no other choice but to take a more drastic stance." He turned to her as he opened the door. "Is this understood, ladies?"

Ginny could barely nod. She was breathing hard and on the verge of tears. On the other hand, Luna was gazing dreamily past his desk to the bookshelf behind. Before Severus could react, she moved behind his desk and plucked a small volume from the shelf.

She lovingly turned the pages. "This is lovely book, Headmaster. One of my favourites. You might want to read it with Hermione. She would probably like it, too." She carefully placed the book beside the sword on his desk. "Let's go back to our dorm rooms, Ginny. We have class tomorrow, and we've already wasted enough of the Headmaster's time."

Like a sleepwalker, Ginny allowed Luna to lead her out of the room. Severus watched their procession silently. As they passed, Luna looked up at him. Her tranquil, fey eyes were friendly. "Please tell Hermione I said hello, sir, and that I miss her this year. Hogwarts can be a lonely place without your friends, I find."

Severus closed the door behind the two girls and leaned on it heavily. After a moment, he made a sharp, barking sound. It started low, and to the listeners on the wall, it sounded like a sob. He repeated it again, and again, until the laughter bubbled out of him like hysteria. He turned and walked back to his desk, still chuckling at the lunacy of the moment. He performed a series of spells and wand movements to restore the glass display cabinet. Then he picked up the Sword of Gryffindor and put it respectfully back in its place. The door to the case closed with a resounding click, and Severus watched as light flashed across the name: Godric Gryffindor.

"I thought the Dark Lord told you to take this to Gringotts," Amycus Carrow had said, after that first, dreadful faculty meeting. He sneered at Severus. "Are you defying our Lord, Snape?" he asked, his voice deceptively teasing. "I can imagine he'd be none too pleased to know it's still hanging about."

Severus had given him his most withering look. "Carrow, do you know how many faculty members are Gryffindors? How many are Ravenclaws? Hufflepuffs? Slytherins?"

"There's only one House that matters in this school now, Snape," Alecto Carrow replied insolently. "The only true House."

Severus clenched his teeth, despising the ugly Death Eaters with every fibre of his being. "Be that as it may, do you want to incite a riot by the sudden, unexplained disappearance of artifacts that are deemed precious by many of the individuals who live and teach here?" He leaned forward. "Do you want to explain to our Lord why you've disrupted the very fabric of the school?"

Amycus' eyes narrowed. "Are you threatenin' me, Snape?"

Severus turned his large, dark eyes on Carrow, the picture of Slytherin innocence. "Merlin forbid, Professor. I am merely thinking like a member of the only House that matters." Severus drew himself to his full height, towering over the little toad of a man. "If you give extra candy, you get sleepier children."

At Carrow's dull look of incomprehension, Severus rolled his eyes. "Bread and circuses? You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?" He sighed contemptuously. "If you want the masses to stay dull-eyed and compliant, you don't make sudden changes that inflame their sense of moral outrage."

Both Carrows looked at him as if he were speaking Mermish. Exasperated, Severus huffed. "The real artifacts are in Gringotts, you fools." He flung open the door of the case in which the Sword of Gryffindor sat and pulled out the weapon with a flourish.

"Transfigured letter opener." With one hand, Severus casually flipped the sword in the air and caught it deftly. "Light as a feather. Could I do that with the real sword, Carrow?"

Slowly, understanding dawned, and the two Death Eaters looked at one another and winked. "Oh, I see!" Alecto crowed.

And the Lumos is lit, Severus thought to himself.

"It's fake, but they don't know it! You keep it around and you keep 'em sweet! Very clever, Snape!" Alecto said, rather flirtatiously.

"Indeed. And when the faculty sees the Banner and the Sword and the Portrait and the Great Book where they have been for centuries, they see constancy, they see things as they have always been, and there is no reason for alarm, no reason for rebellion." Severus gave them both a look of smug complacency. "Saves so much time and energy, you see."

Severus' arm had ached the next day from that foolish little display of swordplay. Even with his wandless lightening spell, a goblin-made sword was bloody heavy.

He looked at the fine scrollwork, the beautiful engraving. He thought of his transfigured letter opener, tucked safely away in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts.

As he prepared to leave, his gaze fell over the book Luna had left lying on his desk for Hermione, and after a moment's hesitation, he shrugged and retrieved it. It was an old book, left by some long-ago Headmaster or Headmistress, written in ancient runes: the Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Still shaking his head at the strangeness of the encounter, Severus left his study, book in hand.

---

He was not laughing two days later when he was summoned before the Dark Lord. As Severus cleverly convinced him that to give the girls any sort of hope was not only more insidious but would placate the others and thus keep them in line, Carrow received a bout of Crucio for wasting the Dark Lord's time. This was the final wedge between Severus and Carrow; from then on, the gloves were off, and Carrow swore vengeance.

The next week, Luna Lovegood disappeared from the castle. Called home, explained Carrow with a smile of twisted pleasure. Her father was in need of her, he said, laughing, taunting Severus with his little act of retaliation.

Severus did not sleep at all that night. It was the first student he had actually lost to the Carrows.

It would not be the last.

---

A week later, the pounding on the door to his chambers awoke Severus instantly. Hermione was wide awake seconds later as she felt his consciousness burst into wakefulness. Oh, bloody wonderful, Severus thought to himself. A glance at the clock showed it was one thirty in the morning. Was he destined never to get a real night's sleep, ever? Throwing on his old nightshirt and robe, he put a reassuring hand on her arm and murmured, "Wait here."

He opened the door to an apologetic-looking Argus Filch. The old Squib scuttled in, furtively looking behind him as he entered the room. "Headmaster, sir, there's three wizards at the gates. Well, two wizards draggin' a third. Call themselves Snatchers."

Severus felt an icy finger slide over his testicles. "What do they want?"

Filch looked uneasy. "They want to talk to you. They picked up some boy and want him identified." He glared at Severus as if willing the Headmaster to read between the lines. "They want Mrs. Snape to have a butcher's at him."

"Why?" Severus was pleased that his voice carried the proper amount of irritation and boredom. Inside, he was already planning how to get them into the castle unseen by the Carrows and how to Obliviate the Snatchers.

Filch swallowed. "Seems that some have already gotten in trouble with You-Know-Who for bringing in the wrong people, if you get my drift." His voice was low, and his lips barely moved, as if afraid of being overheard.

Severus made up his mind. He put a friendly hand on the man's shoulder, and realised with a start that Filch was trembling. Quietly, he muttered, "Bring them in, but by the dungeon entrance. Go through my old rooms; the Headmaster's study Floo is connected to my old study. Bring them in from there." He returned Filch's glare. "I don't want anyone else to see them, understood? No one."

Filch nodded. "Understood, Headmaster." He left quickly, and Severus stood still for a moment before going to rouse Hermione.

Ten minutes later, a fully-dressed Headmaster and his wife were waiting in his study as the Floo burst into life and two grubby men stumbled through, hanging on to a third. The Snatchers were shabbily dressed, stank of sweat and dirt and looked as if they'd not had a decent meal in weeks. They looked around awkwardly, a little awed, and gave a little uncomfortable, nodding bow to Severus and Hermione.

"Come in, gentlemen. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Severus asked imperiously. If they were going to tug the forelock, Severus thought, he might as well act the lord of the manor.

The elder of the two bobbed a nod again. "Begging your pardon, Headmaster," he looked at Hermione with a queasy smile. "Ma'am. We apologise for the lateness of the hour, but needs must, and all that." Hermione looked up at the younger of the two Snatchers, and he returned her look uneasily, but swallowed pointedly when she brought her cup of tea to her lips.

A silent exchange later, Severus summoned a house-elf and ordered food. As Hermione had said, If they're well-fed, perhaps they'll be more malleable. Severus agreed. It would also give him time to decide exactly what to do with them.

They watched in silence as the Snatchers, whose names were Botchin and Orkhart, gobbled leftover Shepherd's pie and treacle tart, grunting like pigs. Severus rounded off the meal with a generous glass of his second-best firewhisky, and debated on whether to slip them a Befuddlement Potion while he was at it. He palmed a vial, just in case.

Standing off to one side, bound by magical ropes, no less smelly and dirty than his captors, was a tall male with a black sack pulled over his head. He had been Petrified, but the spell was either indifferently cast or wearing off. The figure strained against the bindings, but was strangely silent beneath the bag. Hermione felt adrenaline rush through her body so quickly it actually made her skin ache. She recognised the shape of the hands, the texture of the skin...

She forced herself not to look at her husband, though they silently conversed as the Snatchers finished their meal. By the time Botchin and Orkhart were belching their way through the last of the firewhisky, they were relaxed and full of bonhomie for the Headmaster and his wife's hospitality.

"Now that you've had a chance to refresh yourselves, would either of you kindly explain why you have awakened my wife and me in the middle of the night?" Severus could not have looked more disinterested.

Botchin, the elder of the two Snatchers, acted as spokesperson. "Well, sir," he began, gesturing to their captive, "we found this oik rambling around outside the Birmingham City Centre, and he looked rather suspicious." He continued, rather pompously, "We felt, of course, that anyone matching the descriptions of the three Most Wanted should be brought before the Dark Lord, but..."

Orkhart, the younger Snatcher, whose narrow head and protruding teeth sickeningly reminded Hermione of Wormtail, finished. "The last Snatchers who brought the wrong person to You-Know-Who, well..." He shifted uneasily. "Well, let's just say they ain't snatchin' no more."

"I see," Severus replied, full of haughty disdain. "And so you thought it would be far safer to waste our time instead of the Dark Lord's, is that it?"

"Exactly!" The younger wizard said, his face brightening. Botchin gave him a slap on the side of his head. He turned back to Severus with an unctuous little shrug.

"Look, Headmaster, times is hard. I got three kids and an expensive wife, if you get my drift," he said, giving Hermione a leering grin. "We are sorry to disturb you, make no mistake! If, however, you could just identify this one prop'ly, then we'll be out of your hair before you can say Gellert Grindelwald."

Severus crossed his arms. "Very well." He nodded toward their prisoner. "Take off the bag, then."

The Snatchers roughly dragged their prisoner onto his feet. With a flourish, the younger Snatcher yanked the black bag from the head of a very angry, very frightened Ronald Weasley.

---

Hermione, don't change your expression, Severus warned. He was relieved to see Hermione looking at her former best friend as if she'd never seen him before in her life. She turned to Severus with a 'who-the-hell-is-this?' expression on her face that would have fooled even the Dark Lord, and he wanted to kiss her.

"Well?" The older Snatcher said. "Is it 'im?"

"I fail to understand the question," Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. "'im, who?"

Orkhart grabbed Weasley by the hair and yanked his head back to give them a good look. The boy's lips were moving, and he seemed to be shouting a string of epithets and curses, but no sounds emitted from him. Botchin followed their gaze, and realising their hosts' confusion, he grinned. "Oh, yeah," he explained, "we had to silence him on the way here. His yammering was doing my head in."

The two Snatchers stood slightly behind Weasley, so they did not see him calling Hermione and Snape every sort of foul thing he could articulate. The possibility that, once vocal, Weasley would give them all away, spurred Severus to action.

"Well, for fuck's sake," he replied, "don't cancel it. I have a splitting headache, and I have no desire to hear his whining voice." He addressed the bound man directly. "Frankly, Mr. Torrent, I had hoped after you graduated two years ago I would never have to see or hear you ever again. Alas, the fates had other plans."

The triumphant grins faded from the Snatcher's faces. Botchin asked, "Say again?"

Severus huffed, and repeated slowly, as if speaking to a dim-witted child, "I said, don't cancel the Silencing charm, because I have a splitting headache and-"

"No, no that bit about Mr., er, Torrent, you say?"

Severus could have not looked more irritated if he had taken acting classes. He cocked a brow toward the redhead. "Dilbert Torrent, Hufflepuff, Class of ...'95?" Severus shook his head as he pointed to Weasley. "You've only gone and picked up one of the dimmest, dunderheaded students this hallowed seat of learning ever churned out." He fixed Weasley with a glare. "Two N.E.W.T.s, I believe, wasn't it, Mr. Torrent? One in remedial basket weaving, if I recall."

Weasley looked from Severus to Hermione, his eyes hard and confused. Finally, he nodded curtly.

"Are you sure?" the older Snatcher challenged. "He looked just like that Weasley bloke what were running round with Harry Potter."

Hermione scoffed. Imperiously she retorted, "I should think I would know Ronald Weasley if I saw him! I only had class with him every day for almost six years." She looked at her friend as if examining some inferior species of Flobberworm. Disdainfully, she added, "This person doesn't look anything like him."

Orkhart, dismayed, blurted, "But we checked the poster! He looks like-"

"That's because the Torrents and the Weasleys are what, third cousins, Mr. Torrent?"

Ron nodded again, and to Severus' surprise, his mouth twitched, and he held up two fingers, palm facing inward. "Second cousins, then," Severus amended.

When the Snatchers still eyed him skeptically, Hermione made a sound of exasperated impatience and walked over to Severus' desk. "For Merlin's sweet sucking sake, do we have to draw you a picture?" She pretended to look for a particular book, all the while casting a series of wandless, wordless spells. Finally choosing a book from the shelf, she quickly flipped through the pages.

Orkhart, stepping forward, curious. "Was' sat?"

He was impatiently pushed away by Botchin. "I'll handle this, son." He walked over to Hermione. "Here, now, was'sat?"

Without looking up from her search, Hermione announced in her most officious voice, "The Hogwarts book of graduating students, 1993 to the present day." She reached a page and cast the final spell. Turning the book toward the men, she said, "Here you are. Dilbert Jasperus Torrent, Hufflepuff, Class of 1995."

Both Snatchers and Weasley peered at the page. Even Severus looked. On the page was a listing, complete with a school biography, showing the name, statistics, Pureblood status and academic achievements of one Dilbert Torrent. To complete the illusion, a photo of Ron, waving and mugging at the camera, sat in the corner of the page. The Snatchers stared at it in growing dismay, as realisation dawned that they had indeed apprehended the wrong ginger.

As Hermione placed the book in his hands, Severus felt a huge, giddy pride in the magic she'd wrought; it was complex and slippery, and he felt a hearty regret that no one would ever know about it but him.

"Aww, for fuck's sake," Orkhart whined. "And here I thought we stood a good chance with this one."

"So," Severus concluded, shutting the book with a snap, "unless the Dark Lord has entrusted you to round up all the most moronic Purebloods in Wizarding Britain, I would have to say you have once again managed to bark up the wrong tree." He managed a feral smile. "Imagine the reward waiting for you had you actually presented Mr. Torrent for the Dark Lord's pleasure."

The two wizards paled at the thought. Finally, Botchin cleared his throat, "Right, then." He heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Headmaster. Saved us a bit of bother, did that." He released Weasley from the magical bonds holding him and grabbed his arm. "Come on, ginger. We'll take you home."

Severus saw the panic flare in Weasley's face again, and decided to get the Snatchers out of the way before they pooled their meagre brains and realised a Quidditch team could fly through the holes in their story. "Gentlemen, seeing as you probably would like to distance yourself from Mr. Torrent as quickly as possible to avoid further repercussions, he is welcome to stay here at Hogwarts for the evening, and make his way home tomorrow. It seems the least we can do for a member of one of our oldest Pureblood families after this minor misunderstanding. His family is among our Lord's staunchest supporters, after all."

The message came through loud and clear this time, at least to Botchin. "Can't win 'em all, son," he said, patting Orkhart's arm consolingly. "Let's be off and let young Mister Torrent go about his business." He turned to Severus. "Ah, well, thank you for your assistance, sir. My apologies to you and the missus for wasting your time, Headmaster." He sighed wearily. Severus made his decision.

"Allow me to offer you a Rejuvenating Draught, comrades. It will strengthen your resolve and renew your stamina." He watched as they eagerly downed the Befuddlement Potion. Very slowly and deliberately, Severus said, "By the time you reach the gates, all of this will seem like a distant dream. And I'm sure you're eager to be on your way to continue your hunt. After all," he added, smiling wolfishly, "one mustn't forget those three hopeful children. Not to mention your very expensive witch."

Botchin grimaced. "No, let's don't mention her." He looked genuinely fearful. "She was expecting an ermine-trimmed robe from this snatchin', and all. Looks like I'll be sleeping with the crups tonight." He pronounced the word 'er-MINE', and it was all Hermione could do not to laugh in the face of his henpecked misery.

Severus herded them toward the Floo. "Mr. Filch will be waiting to take you back to the castle gates." He leaned in a whispered conspiratorially. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with us."

As the potion hit his system, Botchin brightened, and actually smiled at Severus. "Thank you sir, for your hospitality."

Severus waived a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it, sir." There. If Carrow, Merlin forbid, should spot them and start sniffing around, they'll be lucky to remember why they were here, much less who they brought with them.

When the Snatchers had departed, he turned back to see Weasley still motionless in the middle of the room, and Hermione watching him as if she was unsure of what to say or do. Severus quickly moved to stand by his wife's side. Weasley was looking at both of them intently, but his expression was uncharacteristically unreadable.

Severus raised his wand and pointed it at the boy's head. He took a grim satisfaction in seeing his eyes widen in alarm. Coolly, Severus said, "Mr. Weasley, before I cancel the Silencing Charm, I would appreciate some reassurance from you that I will not regret it. My wife and I are very tired, classes begin in a few hours and I will be disinclined to show charity if you start hurtling a string of empty threats and abuse at our heads. Agreed?"

Again, the wary nod, and with a quick glance at Hermione, Severus hissed, "Finite Incantatem!"

Weasley did not react immediately. He cleared his throat, then swallowed. Hermione was about to ask him if he wanted something to drink, when he drew himself up to his full height, and asked in a voice so quiet it seemed a spell in and of itself, "Would one of you tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"

Severus crossed his arms and stared down at Weasley imperiously. "The Dark Lord has promised great rewards to the ones who can bring him Harry Potter or his companions, Mr. Weasley." He sneered, trying to sound as sinister as possible. "Why should those two imbeciles reap the reward when my wife and I can clothe ourselves in his glory?"

Weasley's eyes widened, and he looked at Hermione for a long moment. A sudden, crooked grin spread over his freckled face. In the same quiet, confident tone, he retorted, "Nah. I'm not buying it, Snape. It sounds good, but you've forgotten one thing."

"And what is that, Mr. Weasley?" he asked, tightly.

The young fool had the audacity to look smug. "I'm a chess player. I've watched your moves tonight. They weren't for a short gambit. You were playing the long game." He looked from Severus to Hermione. "If you were planning on taking me yourself, you would have just Obliviated them and sent them on their way, instead of going through that elaborate farce about Dilbert flipping Torrent." He grinned, and gave Severus a wry look. "Two N.E.W.T.s? Hufflepuff? Cheers. I'll say this for you, Snape: you haven't lost your acid."

He turned to Hermione, and with a shy smile of pride, he said, "You never stop amazing me, Hermione. That book with all that Torrent bollocks?" He gave her a solemn wink. "Tasty bit of spellwork, mate."

Hermione, who had been quietly standing by her husband, suddenly burst into tears of relief, and threw her arms around her old friend. "Oh, Ron, thank Merlin you're alright, you sodding moron!" Weasley looked at the sobbing witch in his arms, then back to her husband. "I could kill you myself for getting caught, you stupid, stupid boy!"

With a shrug, Severus said, "No argument there."

---

Weasley had been just as hungry as the Snatchers. He wolfed down his food as he told them about his capture, and how he had been caught and brought to Hogwarts. He was understandably reluctant to talk about Harry and Neville; instead he explained how he'd been nicked almost the moment he left the wards the three boys had set up for themselves.

Finally, having eaten his fill, he polished off a jug of pumpkin juice and fixed Severus and Hermione with a steady gaze. "Hermione, tell me I'm mad. Tell me that you are a Death Eater, and you and Snape are here to help You-Know-Who wipe out Harry and the Order. Tell me, and I'll believe it."

Severus, frustrated that he'd been placed in this position, snapped, "It hardly matters what you believe, Mr. Weasley. The facts are irrefutable. The Dark Lord has graciously appointed me Headmaster, and-"

"I don't know what happened that night," Ron interrupted. "Harry won't talk about it. But he knows something Neville and I don't, and I think it's about you, Hermione." He dropped his eyes. "When you and I played chess, you used to play the long game as well. I've missed that. I missed you."

He looked at her with that fiercely loyal look in his eyes that always made Hermione feel at once proud and sorry for him. "I've missed you, too, Ron. Harry, too. I've been-" She looked at Severus and he sighed, accepting the inevitable. "We've been worried sick about you all."

Ron shrugged deprecatingly. "Ah, we're alright. Bit tired of Neville's cooking, but-" He stopped, and his jaw worked, as if fighting tears. He looked first at Severus, then back to Hermione. "It's been tough. It would've been easier with you there, I think. Even Harry misses you. He doesn't say it, but, well, you know Harry." He looked at the couple carefully. "You killed Dumbledore, didn't you, Hermione? You really did it."

"Ron, there are a lot of things you don't understand." She kept her gaze steady. "Yes, I did. But I had my reasons."

He nodded. "I figured as much. I also think Dumbledore had his reasons as well. Harry told me he was in horrific pain when they came back from retrieving the Horcrux. Harry also said he was pleading with you, Snape. Pleading with you to save him from Draco." As if talking to himself, Ron mused, "Well ... was he begging you to save him... or begging you to kill him? He was a master chess player as well, Dumbledore. Another long-game man. Absolutely barking, but brilliant." He looked at Severus pointedly. "Tell me the truth, Snape, what side of the board were you two playing that night?"

"Tell me, Weasley, do you make a habit of babbling aloud every inane thought that pops into the mush between your ears that passes for brains?" Severus barked, too shocked at Ron's comments to stay silent. The boy's eyes grew angry, and Severus welcomed it, allowed it to give him permission to vent the anger that had been building the moment the Snatchers stepped from the fireplace. "Do you realise to whom you are speaking?"

Defiantly, Ron stared at Severus for a moment. "I'm speaking to a friend and her husband," he replied, with a trace of irony. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but let's just say that my perception of a lot of things has gone tits up in the past hour."

Severus found himself longing for a drink. He crossed to the chest that held the firewhisky and poured himself two fingers. "Drink, Weasley?"

The boy looked at him suspiciously, then shrugged. "Why not? This night can't get any more mental than it has already."

Hermione, who also accepted a small glass, said, "Ronald, what are you doing here? Why aren't you with Harry and Neville?"

For the first time since the Snatchers had left, Ron grew introspective. "Stupidity. Selfishness. Bloody-mindedness. Can I have that drink now, Snape? It's a long story, and I'm not exactly looking forward to telling it." For a moment, he looked angry, and gave a nod of thanks when Severus silently handed the boy his glass.

Hermione took a tiny sip, wincing at the welcome fire. Severus, I am at a loss. My heart tells me to confide in Ron, but my head-

I know, Lass. It would be the easiest thing in the world to share ourselves, but the wisest? We are talking Weasley here. In spite of his gibe, Severus was unsure. He had never been so conflicted. It was one thing to have Poppy's confidence, but could they take the chance with Ron? He truly thought the only way to solve their problem was a very carefully designed Obliviate, but Hermione balked at the idea.

Ron watched their faces intently. "It's like you two are talking to one another, you know. Do you have some sort of mental link?" He looked at Hermione skeptically. "I mean I knew you were brilliant, but-"

He caught Severus baleful stare and cleared his throat. "Right. Why am I here." The uncomfortable trace of regret played across his face again. "Being on the run has been hard. For all of us. I'm not saying being here has probably been any picnic for you two," he added hastily, "but you don't have a Horcrux eating away at your magic day in and day out."

Severus and Hermione sat quietly as Ron told them of the dark days before Christmas, after Dumbledore's death. The locket Horcrux, which Dumbledore and Harry had risked their lives to retrieve, had turned out to be a fake.

"A fake? Are you sure?" Severus said, stunned.

Ron nodded. "We opened the locket and there was a note inside. It was addressed to You-Know-Who, and it was from someone with the initials R.A.B., telling him that the real Horcrux was now tucked away."

Hermione glanced at Severus, who sat watching Ron as if he were telling him the play-by-play of the latest Chudley Cannons match. His guts were churning. Reg had taken the Horcrux. But he couldn't have, could he?

Cautiously, Hermione ventured, "Do you have any idea who this R.A.B was?"

Triumphantly, Ron smiled. "Oh, yeah. I figured it out. It was taken by Regulus Black – you know, Sirius' brother? The one that became a Death Eater?" When neither reacted, Ron shrugged. "That's how we got the real one back. Kreacher helped us."

Into the night, Ron awed and dismayed his audience with the tales of escape after narrow escape, and how the three boys had managed thus far with the help of an old tent his dad had borrowed for the Quidditch World Cup. "Harry had it with him, turns out. He's been dead resourceful. Always seems to have what we need." Ron frowned. "Except a way to destroy this Horcrux. We can't kill it. We've tried all sorts of things, but nothing works."

Severus sighed. His eyes were itching with fatigue and he ached all over as if from fever. "Can you think of nothing that would destroy it, Weasley? Surely the man who sussed out Regulus Black could put two and two together."

Ron gave Severus a sour look. "I said I figured it out, Snape. I didn't say I was Hermione." He looked at her searchingly. "Is he good to you, Hermione? He didn't force you into this or anything, did he?"

"You are asking my wife questions that are none of your concern, boy," Severus snarled. Gods, if he could just sit down and think for five minutes!

A gentle hand fell on his arm, and he looked down into his wife's face. "It's alright, Severus. I'm not ashamed of you, and I'm not ashamed of us. I'm proud to be your wife."

Her gentle voice seeped past the grinding fatigue in Severus' soul, and he lowered his head until it was pressed to hers. He gave up. It was too much, even for him. I am so tired, Hermione. I can't think. I can't make a decision about this. Help me, please.

He straightened again and found Ron looking at him. There was a sadness in the boy's face. "No, you don't have to answer," said Ron, "I can see it. I may not be in Hermione's league when it comes to smarts, but I know love when I see it." He looked around the study. "You poor bastard." He swallowed. "Merlin, I thought we had it rough."

"Headmaster! Headmaster!"

The three of them looked over at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Hermione remembered him only because, being a distant relative of Sirius', he had a portrait over at Grimmauld Place. He had always been scathingly condescending to Hermione, and therefore his frequent absence from his Headmaster's portrait was one that was rarely remarked upon.

Severus approached the portrait warily. A few of the portraits had lately been giving him grudging assistance in letting him know when danger, usually in the form of one or both of the Carrows, was afoot. While Black had not been one of them, it appeared that at last, he might deign to help them.

Quietly, Severus answered, "Yes, Headmaster? Is there a problem in the castle?"

"No, you half-blooded fool! It's Potter and the Longbottom boy! They're in the Forest of Dean right now."

Hermione and Ron exchanged surprised glances. "How do you know that?" Ron asked, confused.

The painted face sneered at them. "What does it matter? I'm telling you so that you can get this whelp back where he belongs. They need him!"

As the three of them digested this information, a voice called from behind the desk. "Severus! Quickly! You must act now! Take the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry!"

All eyes turned to see the intense, urgent expression of Hogwarts' previous Headmaster staring at them from his painting. Albus Dumbledore, it seemed, was awake.

"Severus, there is no time to lose, please!" the portrait cried. "It must be retrieved under conditions of valour and need."

Severus stared dumbfounded at the portrait. He was barely aware of Dumbledore's fervent words, the first words the old man had uttered to them since their return to Hogwarts. Of course they must be about Potter. Nothing was important enough to rouse the old bastard, save bloody Potter.

"And don't forget he cannot see that it is you who brings it – if Voldemort were to see that it was you-"

"I can do it!" Ron offered. "I'll help." He turned to Severus, his initial excitement fading. "Wait a minute. Why do we need to take the sword to-"

"The sword? Oh, bloody hell!" The two men turned to see Hermione, standing behind them, eyes blazing. "What an idiot I've been!" Her face was alight with excitement, and Severus felt his heart pounding. I know exactly why Dumbledore wants you to take the sword to Harry!

Moments later, Severus and Ron were preparing to leave the castle and head for the Forest of Dean. The Sword of Gryffindor was wrapped in Severus' traveling cloak, along with three spare wands. Each man understood what to do, what was needed. Ron had even offered to take a wand oath to keep his detour through Hogwarts to himself, but in the end, both Severus and Hermione felt it unnecessary.

"I still think I should go as well."

"Hermione, no. Please, do not fight me on this."

Her frustration soared. "But I could help you!"

Severus glanced at Ron and silently handed the younger man his cloak. Then he turned to Hermione and took her hands in his. His voice was quiet, and intense with emotion. "I cannot bear the idea of you, out there with us, shivering in the cold. We have a long night ahead of us." His eyes softened. "Only the thought of you here, safely tucked away and warm, is keeping me at my task."

He leaned closer. Do this for me, lass. I promise you I will get Weasley back where he belongs, and the sword to Potter.

"I know you will." Hermione felt his warm hands squeeze hers, then he released them and turned away.

Ron handed the traveling cloak back to its owner, and turned to Hermione. "Take care of yourself, yeah? And tell Ginny I love her, and that I'm fine."

The plaintive fearful courage in his voice was her undoing, and Hermione's strength failed her. "Ron, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you everything." Hermione's tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, and she thought her heart would break.

"It's alright, Hermione," Ron said, nodding sadly. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "If I've learned one thing while we've been on the run, it's that you have to find a little love any way you can." He glanced at Severus. "If the great git makes you happy-"

"Weasley!"

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised, then laughed in spite of herself. "He's a good man. He's everything to me." She took a deep breath. "They – Death Eaters killed my parents, Ron."

Ron looked at her in horror. Stricken, he cried, "Oh, no, Hermione! Oh, no, I'm so sorry-"

"If it hadn't been for Severus, they would have killed me too. You have no idea what he's been through to provide information for the Order, for Dumbledore." She gazed up at her husband with fierce pride. "Even for Harry. He's always done everything to keep Harry alive, Ron. I know Harry will never believe that, but the only reason we have a chance of defeating You-Know-Who is because of Severus and all he's done."

Hermione could see the tears in Ron's eyes. "And the only chance you have is to make everyone believe you're doing it for You-Know-Who. Gods," he said sadly, shaking his head. He met Severus' darkly defiant stare with stark sympathy in his eyes. "How are you two going to survive?"

"The only way we know how, Mr. Weasley," Severus said quietly, and grasped Hermione's hand like a lifeline. His eyes met hers, and Hermione's knees almost buckled at the stern, protective love she saw and felt. "The only way we can. Together."

Ron swallowed hard. He looked down at Hermione with eyes that were haggard with fear. "Merlin, Hermione, I don't know if I'll ever see you again."

Hermione released her husband's hand and embraced her friend. "You will! I know you will," she said, with a tremulous smile. "Promise me something, Ron."

His blue eyes looked into hers with the same sweet friendship she'd known for more than half her life. "Anything."

She closed her eyes. "If something ever happens to me, please make sure that the Ministry knows the truth about Severus."

"Hermione, please!"

She turned and faced Severus. She could feel the anguish in his heart. "No! It has to be done!" She turned back to Ron. "Promise me everyone will know the truth. Severus is a hero. Everything he's done has been for Dumbledore and the Order."

Ron looked from Hermione to his former professor and back. He nodded. "I believe you. I promise."

Agitated, Severus stepped forward. "Hermione, Weasley and I must go. We do not have all night," he hissed, his countenance harsh with urgency.

"Right," Ron said, and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Take care of yourself, yeah?"

Hermione sniffed. "Yeah. You, too." She turned to Severus. "Be careful." I love you more than breath.

Severus nodded.I will return shortly. Try to rest. Then, with a sweep of his cloak, Hermione was left alone.

She watched them from the Headmaster's study window, breathing a quiet prayer to the gods watching over them that they would accomplish their mission, and that her husband would safely return before daylight.

---

They stood on the perimeter of Harry and Neville's impressive wards, and Severus again wondered why he had blindly obeyed Dumbledore and allowed Ron to guide him to the heart of the Forest of Dean. Weeks without the first word of support or help, then suddenly the fucking poofter was barking orders and once again Severus was blindly following them. He would save his hatred for later; tonight his exhaustion was catching up with him, and there were miles to go before he could sleep. He would surely get no more on this night.

"Merlin," Severus said, irritably. He indicated that they should proceed. "Let's get this over with, Weasley. There's only so much psycho-drama I can take in one evening."

"For the tenth time, Snape, yes, I know what to do! I'm not an idiot!"

"This, coming from the man who was caught by those two geniuses while bumbling around Birmingham City Centre!" Severus bit back.

He had navigated them to the edge of the Forest of Dean, when Ron had taken out something that resembled an oversized cigarette lighter. Severus watched, fascinated, as Ron flicked it open, and soft, glowing lights flew from its confines and into the trees, providing them with a clear direction to take.

"It was deeded to me by Dumbledore in his will," Ron had explained, as they followed each light like little individual stars. "It took me forever to figure out what the hell a Deluminator was and why the barmy old coot left it to me in his will. I finally realised that, for every light I took with it, it gave one back. And each light will lead me to where I'm supposed to go." He dropped his head sheepishly. "I was concentrating so hard on following the lights that I didn't see the Snatchers until they had me."

"You wouldn't be the first man who got distracted following the light, Weasley. You won't be the last," Severus quipped, but the boy shot him a keen look of understanding.

"No, I don't suppose I am, Snape. But distraction's a luxury we none of us can afford anymore, is it?"

Ron watched as Severus sank the sword into the icy water of a pond a few yards away from the camp where Harry and Neville stood guard. The stood silently as the ice slowly encased the weapon. When it was immobilised in its bed of ice, Severus turned to Ron.

"Try not to fuck this up, boy. The only reason I'm not Obliviating you is because my wife begged me not to."

To his surprise, Ron laughed. "Yeah, Hermione's good at bossing. But I suspect you know that." He sobered. "When Harry told me you two were married, gods, I hated you. I thought you'd stolen my girl away."

Severus felt his throat tighten. "You are speaking about my wife, Weasley."

The redhead rolled his eyes. "I know that. And I know Hermione. Just, do right by her, Snape. If she loves you, really loves you, she'll do anything to protect you. I know that. Keep her alive."

Severus looked at the boy carefully. The die was cast. Quietly he responded, "That is precisely what I am trying to do, Mr. Weasley. Keeping your trap shut will ensure that. You have your part to play as well." He fixed him with a baleful stare. "You keep her alive, Weasley. Forget you ever saw me."

Ron's face hardened. "Yeah, sure, Snape."

As Ron turned to leave, Severus said, "Weasley." He cleared his throat. "Ronald."

The tone of Severus' voice was so soft and entreating it unnerved Ron for a moment. "Yeah?" he answered, warily.

Severus looked at the ground. "If- if things should turn against us, I would-" he stopped and took a shuddering breath. "Please protect Hermione." He dared to look up and Ron was stunned at the raw emotion he saw in Snape's face. "If I can't protect her, please, don't let them... don't let her..." his voice faltered, and he looked away, shamed at his weakness.

"I won't, Snape. I promise," Ron said, and to Severus' surprise, held out his hand. Feeling like a dopey Hufflepuff, Severus took it.

He watched as the boy walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Severus thought of his precious wife, and cast his Patronus.

---

Neither Hermione, Severus, nor Ron saw the toad-like faces of Amycus and Alecto Carrow as the two Death Eaters followed the Headmaster and his charge toward the Apparition point. The Snatchers had been picked up moments after leaving Hogwarts, and the strongest Veritaserum created had been forced down their gullets. They had spilled their guts - while they still had them - and their remains were tossed outside with the other refuse later that morning.

Brother and sister smiled at one another. Their time was nigh.

---

Lyrics – Bic Runga - Captured