Rescue and Predicament

A huge thank you to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, for reading this over for me, Proulxes for the Britpick, and to Lady_Rayne and Phoenix for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate the all the help. Thank you very much.

Also, smooches and a big thank you to Jay for my banner! I really love it.

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~o41o~

Rescue and Predicament

Although it was risky, Cillian quietly slipped away from the revel around eleven-thirty after having dutifully performed his obligatory duty with the two witless girls he'd been paired up with and having been verified to the satisfaction of Mengele and the Dark Lord.

It made him feel like a cad.

He didn't wish to hear any more congratulatory or snide comments from the other Death Eaters.

He didn't particularly want to be at the island, partly due to his feelings of guilt, but also because he wasn't really ready to face Dianne, and there was a good chance she'd be up waiting for him. Oh, she'd be accepting of the situation, putting the blame on the Dark Lord rather than on him, and she would even forgive him for his transgression, knowing he hadn't had a choice, but Cillian couldn't forgive himself that readily. Not yet anyway.

He practically ran for the gate and Apparated home – well, his childhood home.

He arrived at the lode bridge near Wicken Burrows and walked down Burrows Road, paying little heed to the sounds and scents of the fens at night. The walk had always been one of his favorites, even in the winter months, but his thoughts weighed heavily on him as he followed the road by the blue-white light from his wand.

As much as he tried not to dwell on it, the events of the past few hours were roiling about in his mind. He had been utterly shocked when Mengele's wand tip had turned the palest blue, which had verified his copulation. He'd trusted Severus that the potion would make him sterile, but he'd expected his sterility to show up during the detection test in some way. And, even though Cillian had braced himself for an interrogation or Legilimency invasion, the Dark Lord had only given Cillian a perfunctory glance when he made an indifferent inquiry about the revel as he'd watched Mengele perform the second verification.

Cillian's illumination spell flickered as his realization hit him; he'd lied, well, deceived the Dark Lord and his minion Healers, and he was none the worse for it. He hadn't been cursed, or tortured, or fed to the Dark Lord's snake.

The toe of his boot caught a crack or a rock almost tripping him, and he strengthened the Illumination Charm from his wand. The cobbled road was under the Fidelius so only the dozen or so magical families who resided in the small village tucked along the edge of the fens near Wicken, Cambridgeshire, knew about it. Since all of the properties were under the Fidelius as well, the Muggles didn't know the houses were even there either. And a few were really quite large. In fact he could see the rooftop of his parent's home from where he stood.

The sight of the house wasn't as calming and reassuring as it normally was. For some unknown reason, he simply wanted to be in his familiar room even if he hated seeing his mum and dad Imperiused and drooling on the sofa.

His stomach churned as his thoughts turned back to the events of the evening, and he tried not to think about the perfunctory sex acts that he had engaged in. He had not paid attention to the names of the two girls that Mengele had put before him. Both girls had been willing, even enthusiastic, but it had been a struggle even to maintain an erection, let alone see each one through to completion.

He started walking again, dividing his attention between where he was going, maintaining the charm and the turmoil of his thoughts. Merlin's pants this is a mess. No, he hadn't wanted to sire unwanted illegitimate children out of wedlock as Severus had so casually said it, but Cillian couldn't believe what he'd done. Just the day before, Severus had said it was their duty, a direct order at that, and then he'd made the Male Contraception Potion. Severus had secretly defied the Dark Lord.

Cillian swallowed. And so had he! When neither girl passed the pregnancy verification, he'd be screwed.

Of course, he'd wished he hadn't been required to have meaningless sex to impregnate the half-blood girls, and he was glad that there wouldn't be children, but he hated being forced to have sex, on display for his fellow Death Eater's amusement, with girls who had only agreed to be there to avoid being sent to Azkaban. Naturally the two girls, both at least ten years younger than he was, had been accommodating and responsive – quite so – but they'd most likely been given lust potions as well as fertility potions.

It was like the time he'd had to Crucio that defenseless boy – an orphan with magical abilities – only because the boy had no idea who his parents were. The raid happened the week after the Dark Lord returned. Cillian had cursed the lad until his screams began to annoy the Dark Lord, and then the Dark Lord had fed the boy to his snake. All to prove that he, Cillian, was still loyal. His test. One of many.

He stopped short, realizing that he'd arrived. He paused, staring at the impressive grey stone manor. Greyfen Hall. Home.

He opened the gate, strode up the garden path and entered the house. The house was silent. No house-elf greeted him, not that he expected them too. They'd all escaped when Grandfather Riorden raided the house last August.

His Mum and Dad were not in the parlor, nor in the sitting room. He took the stairs two at a time and checked upstairs in the larger guest suite. His parents were in the bedroom, lying side-by-side, sleeping. At least they looked like they were sleeping. They could've been given an Imperius suggestion to sleep, which meant Bell was here, since she was the one who usually 'tucked them in' like this. Damn.

He went to his room, but couldn't sleep. He wasn't tired at all; his mind was too riled up. He changed into an old pair of well-worn trousers, a warm shirt and thick socks, and stood by the window, staring at the few points of lights of the neighboring town of Wicken in the distance. I've defied the Dark Lord. And when it's discovered, I'll be in deep shite. He stifled a yawn and wondered if there were any sleeping potions in the house, then dismissed the idea. He pulled on his boots and his casssock and went down to the kitchen to make himself a mug of Horlicks.

The kitchen was not as clean and tidy as he'd remembered, but the fridge and cupboards were well stocked. He found everything he needed easily enough, putting four teaspoons of Horlicks into a mug, stirring it into paste with a little water and then warmed the milk like ol' Ben used to do, slowly in a saucepan on the stove. Merlin, he missed the old fart. He'd been with the Gwynek family, taking care of Greyfen Hall, for over eighty years, or so the old wizard had told Cillian ages ago.

Marc entered the kitchen. "Oh, it's you. Where's Bell?"

"Last I saw her she was at the revel with Horrance," Cillian said as he stirred the hot milk into his mug. "If she's not upstairs, try her house."

"Did she reinforce the Imperius on Mum and Dad?" Marc asked.

Cillian shrugged. "I suppose so; they've been moved upstairs to the large guest suite."

Marc crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter. "So, Bell is in the master suite tonight?"

Cillian shrugged. "Not surprising; I remember her complaining that Horrance plans on going back to Grosseto tonight, and Anesidora doesn't like her much. Want one?" Cillian offered. Anesidora was Horrance's daughter-in-law, a strongly opinionated witch, who never liked Bell.

Marc scoffed at the Horlicks. "You still drink this shite?"

"Would you prefer a butterbeer?" Cillian challenged.

Marc turned his head, ignoring the jibe. Cillian set down his spoon and took a sip, enjoying the warm, malty flavor.

Suddenly there was a sound, like something or someone falling against the wall.

Then another, like something being bumped.

Marc walked out of the kitchen to go check. Cillian set down his mug and followed after Marc, thinking it was probably Belinda.

Suddenly Belinda's screech, "He's gone!" could be heard upstairs. "Stop him!"

"Shite!" Marc snarled, breaking into a run, and Cillian heard the distinct sound of a vase smashing on the floor.

"Who's gone?" Cillian shouted, although he knew exactly who 'he' was. Marc had his wand out now, running down the hall with Cillian a few yards behind him.

Cillian heard the front door bang open before Marc reached the entry hall, and there was the definite loud crack of Apparition as the door slammed closed. Cillian saw Bell as she raced across the entry for the door, followed by Marc.

"Who dropped the anti-Apparition wards?" Marc bellowed as he yanked the door open.

Cillian entered the entry hall as Marc and Bell ran out into the front garden. A lot of good it will do them if dad was able to Apparate, Cillian thought ruefully.

Cillian caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moving, and ran to check. He skidded to a halt, seeing ol' Ben holding his mum up as he tried to half carry-half drag her with him. His mum's eyes widened in fear, but her head lolled as if she were drunk as she clung to the old caretaker. Ol' Ben hitched her up, getting a better hold on her, but his mum was so weak she was practically a rag doll. Cillian heard a noise in the entry hall and knew that Marc and Bell would come looking for him, and if they found ol' Ben – Cillian didn't want to think about the what if's. Hoping that neither Marc nor Bell had recast the anti-Apparition wards, Cillian lunged forward, grabbed their wrists and Apparated.

They arrived on the drive of an 1866 Victorian country house, now called the Borrowdale Hotel. He had to grab hold of his mum as ol' Ben stumbled. "I got you," he said as he lifted her in his arms, holding her securely. His mum was so thin and frail it tore at his heart. Why have I allowed this to go on for so long? he berated himself. "Are you all right?" he asked ol' Ben as the old caretaker climbed back up on his feet.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he said, brushing the snow off his robes.

"Follow me," Cillian said as he stepped forward to carry his mum to the hotel.

His family's longtime caretaker stayed stubbornly rooted to the spot. "No. Give her to me, Cillian."

"No, I will not let them take my mum," he said defiantly. "Look behind you." He jutted his chin toward the hotel.

O'l Ben turned slightly, keeping one eye on Cillian, then stared, his mouth going slack and his eyes wide. "Where are we?"

"Safe," Cillian stated cryptically. It was a quiet, out of the way hotel that he and Dianne had stayed in once. Silly really, since they could've just as easily have stayed at the island, but this had been romantic to her.

"I have to contact Riorden," ol' Ben stated stubbornly.

Cillian wasn't surprised. "Later. I want to get my mum settled. This place will be safe as long as you don't do magic – any magic." He carried his mum to the hotel with ol' Ben trudging along reluctantly behind him.

As they entered the lobby area, a lady walked up to the registration desk. "Hello? May I help you?"

"I need lodging," Cillian stated. "Two rooms."

"Check in is between two and midnight," she replied. "I'm afraid you're too late."

Cillian frowned, he couldn't wait with his mum in this condition, and he couldn't take her to the island – his mum didn't know about the house, and even with all of the protection spells, if she did know, and was captured, even Belinda could get the memories of the place from her. It was too risky. That was the one loop-hole of the Fidelius Charm, if someone saw the house, or was taken inside, they could bypass the charm and Apparate directly into the place. No, too much of a risk. He set his mum down in a chair Ben had dragged over and then Confounded the woman behind the counter. "It's ten minutes till midnight."

"Oh, right, sorry. Yes, sir, how many rooms did you need?" the lady asked, her eyes slightly dazed. "Oh, are the computers down?"

He had no idea what she meant about the computer being down; it was right there in front of her, wasn't it, that thing she was typing on? He used the Inception Charm, a benign version of the Imperius Curse that usually went undetected, saying, "Solve it," with what little patience he had. "Give me two rooms on the same floor, preferably next to each other."

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir," the woman said. "We had a last minute cancellation... a Prestige double room with a king size bed for one hundred and twenty-two pounds, both parties. And let's see... hmmm... I do have a Prestige single room available on the same floor, a non smoking room, for ninety-two pounds. It was freshly painted recently, and we've been airing it out, but if you don't mind the smell, I can give you a twenty percent discount." The woman looked up. "How long will you and your mother and father be staying?"

Merlin, didn't Muggles have caretakers? But they don't travel with their servants, do they? Dianne had commented on that when he'd asked her if they should bring Ella with them. "Personal assistant," Cillian corrected her, remembering something from one of Juliet's books. "My mum, Mrs. Clark, and Ben-tley, William Bentley will be staying a week, possibly longer." Damn that was close. He hoped the name was different enough.

She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Very well, sir, so you'll need both rooms."

"Yes, I'll need both rooms," Cillian repeated.

"How are we going to pay for this?" ol' Ben ask quietly.

Cillian dug in his pocket. His fingers brushed the plastic card and he took it out. "With this. My Visa." It was from that Muggle bank – a credit card; they gave it to him when he opened the account. It was much easier than carrying around the artfully printed paper that they called money. He showed it to ol' Ben. "See the numbers here, that's how much is on this thing. Everywhere takes the Visa, and when the money is gone, I'll just add more. We'll be fine." He handed the card to the lady.

"Do you have any luggage, Mr. Clark?" the lady asked.

"No, but I'll get some," Cillian stated. Not a bad idea – but it meant that he'd have to go back to the house and pack something. Maybe Ella would go and help him. What a bloody mess. The clerk didn't seem to care though and passed a paper over for him to sign. "I'll need a second key for my mum's assistant."

"Is your mother all right, sir? Do you need a doctor?"

He didn't know what a doctor was, but all his mum needed was few hours sleep, real sleep, and some food and she'd be more alert. "No, she's just exhausted. I just need to get her to the room so she can rest." He suddenly thought that maybe his mum might be hungry. After all, how much did one eat when Imperiused? "Do you have food service?" He remembered that Dianne had ordered breakfast delivered to their room. It was a nice service.

"Yes, sir," the clerk said. "But the kitchens are closed."

He reinforced the spell on the woman. "I'd like tea and sandwiches brought up please, and if you can, have breakfast delivered in the morning."

"I'll have something brought up and make a note to have your breakfast delivered in the morning, around seven?" she asked, her eyes still slightly dazed.

Ol' Ben nodded. "Seven's fine. I can help Mrs. Gwy – Clark in the morning, master Cillian."

"Very well, sir, here are your keys," the woman said and told him how to find the rooms. "Good night, sir. Have a nice stay."

Cillian carried his mum to the room, careful not to bump her on anything. The double room was a nice room, furnished to a reasonable standard with a large bed, like the one he and Dianne had when they'd stayed here. It also had comfortable chairs for seating, a padded bench at the foot of the bed for putting on your shoes, a TV box and tellerphone to call the front desk, and just like the lady had said, nothing was smoking, thank Merlin. He set his mum in one of the chairs, then pulled down the covers of the bed.

"Cillian?" his mum asked, and he cringed at the sound of fear in her voice.

"Yes, mother," he said, adjusting the pillows.

"Why?"

"You're my mum," was all he could say around the lump of guilt that lodged in his throat. He should have done this months ago. "Let's get you in bed. You'll feel better in the morning, but I'll get you some potions anyway."

His mum tried to stand, but he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed instead, adjusting the pillows and the covers as she settled down to sleep. "I love you," he said softly, but his mum seemed to have fallen asleep as soon as her eyes closed. He turned and took stock of the room.

There was a card on the small table that read: dinner, bed and breakfast at a supplement of £20 per person per night; Dinner included a four-course dinner in the restaurant, and the hotel offered light lunches and afternoon teas in the lounge bar and conservatory. He had already paid for the bed with the Visa, but he'd have to get ol' Ben a handful of those L-twenty slips of parchment Muggles used so they could eat in the restaurant, apparently. And there were other services, most of them he remembered from staying here before. Checking the other door he saw the en suite shower and there was a hair dryer, cup, soap, small plastic bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body lotion on the vanity and plenty of towels.

Ol' Ben knocked softly before entering.

"Is the accommodation satisfactory?" Cillian asked.

"Oh, yes, master Cillian, quite nice. I shall be quite comfortable." O'l Ben looked around the room nervously.

Good, apparently he doesn't mind the smell of the Muggle paint. "Ben," Cillian said softly, and the old wizard turned to look at him. "Don't use magic here, this is a Muggle place, and if there is any unusual magical activity, the Ministry will notice. It's imperative you do everything the non-magical way."

"I have to contact Riorden," the caretaker insisted.

"No, please trust me, I'll do everything I can for you both," Cillian said, trying to assure the old wizard. "I know I haven't before... She's my mum, and Dad and Grandfather Riorden will be on the lists – it's too dangerous. I'll work out something, I promise, but for now, please believe me, I'll take care of this." He handed the card from the table to the caretaker. "For now, I think you can charge everything to the room, and I'll settle the bill later. I'll bring you some of those L-twenty slips of parchment the Muggles use tomorrow." He glanced at the clock. "Well, later today, actually. Make a list of what you need on the pad of paper." He showed ol' Ben how the Muggle plastic stick worked. "Click it so the ink doesn't dry out."

The caretaker nodded as he tested the silver clicker a few times and then started making a list.

~*~

His mum hadn't woken when the hotel servant brought up the tea tray. Cillian and ol' Ben had conversed in hushed tones while they ate. The old caretaker would not tell him anything about his grandfather's or dad's whereabouts or by what means ol' Ben used to contact his Grandfather Riorden.

Cillian left after ol' Ben agreed to let him find a solution to hide them. So far the Ministry hadn't been alerted to his use of magic, but he hoped ol' Ben took his warning seriously. Thankfully, the caretaker hadn't asked for too much, just a few necessities and some potions.

He stood out on the grounds, looking out at the town and the view of the Lakeland fells, watching as the sun rose over the hills. The hotel was a nice one. Surrounded by low, densely-forested hills and set in two acres of peaceful, well-maintained grounds on the edge of the hamlet of Grange. The hotel was also close to the shores of Derwentwater, a second's Apparition away from the island.

Now what? He had no choice; he had to go back to his parent's house. He'd been gone for far too long as it was. He'd think of something to tell Marc and Bell. He Apparated to the house and walked up to the front door. Marc yanked it open before he could reach for the latch.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I saw something and chased it," Cillian replied. "It may have been a house-elf."

"Damn those selfish little bastards!" Bell snarled. "Only good for two things, snake food and foot massages."

"What happened?" Cillian asked, although he already knew.

"Grandfather Riorden was here – he ran off with dad," Marc said, which pretty much summed it up.

"Your mother is missing, too," Belinda snapped.

"She's your mother, too, Bell, and you've been really horrible to her – to both of them," Cillian pointed out.

"They were making too much trouble – the Dark Lord was getting angry with them!" Belinda screeched, her voice going up an octave or two. "What was I supposed to do – let them leave the country? They'd be marked as deserters!"

"They were never Marked!" Cillian snarled.

"No, they were supporters, and they were going to leave him," Bell snarled, waving her arm excitedly, "and ruin our standing in the good graces of our Lord and Master." She pointed at Cillian. "And they have the vault key!"

"Horrance cut your allowance again, sis?" Cillian snarled, furious at the situation. His mum was so weak, so starved, that she had only weighted about six stones in his arms.

"Watch it, little brother," Bell snarled.

"WILL YOU TWO CEASE?" Marc shouted. "Let a wizard think! They're gone – gone – and we'll be punished for this."

"No, we won't," Cillian stated. "We were at his New Year's Revel, and this is what we came home to. If we stick to that, we should only be Crucioed."

"Been Crucioed, thank you – it isn't something I want repeated," Marc snapped.

"But if we can convince him that we knew nothing of this, then maybe..." Belinda trailed off. "I'll tell him. He favors me."

Cillian doubted that after the incident at the Winter Solstice Ball. "Fine," he said. "I'm tired and am starting to feel a hangover."

"Aren't you going to help us find them?" Marc asked incredulously.

"And where should we look?" Cillian asked, rounding on his older brother. "Granddad's London house? The villa in Italy? In Switzerland? Russia? France? You know he could afford to be anywhere he wants to be! We have been chasing dragon shadows since the summer, and so far we've never had a clue where he's hiding." He turned to walk away. "I'm going home to bed. Good night."

~S~

Severus woke up with a pounding headache. He had chosen to stay the night at the castle instead of returning to the island, but he'd hardly slept, and he'd been too cold. He rubbed at his temple in irritation while realizing at the same time that his discomfiture was entirely his own fault.

His mind had been too troubled for sleep to come easily, and when he did sleep, his rest had been fitful and disturbed. He had dreamt of running after Hermione as Belinda pursued him, her hands clawing at him, pulling him back even as he'd reached out for Hermione. He had turned to Belinda, shoving her off and shouting at her to leave him alone... but as he turned back to Hermione, she faded from his sight, and he had lost her...

He'd woken at that, sweating and in a panic, his hand reaching out towards her side of his bed, only to find it cold and empty. It had taken him a few seconds, his heart thumping irrationally in his chest, to remember that she was back on the island, safe in Cillian's care.

He had fallen back against his pillows and willed himself to go back to sleep, only to have another dream of Hermione choosing to go on the run with Potter rather than returning to the castle with him as Belinda hovered in the nude behind him in the snow.

He turned to look at Hermione's side of the bed. He'd become so used to her sleeping by his side, sprawled across his body, her weight reassuringly solid against him.

He had no idea how to face her, to explain his actions at the revel. He knew that he'd have a hard time doing so, and he feared her reaction. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings, even as a youth, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to assuage the guilt he felt. So he'd stayed here, to sort things out in his mind before facing her, to formulate what he'd say and to prepare himself for her reaction. That she would despise him, he was in no doubt. The fact that he cared so much about what she thought of him disturbed him. He knew now that he loved her, and he didn't want to lose her, although he was convinced he might.

Giving up, he donned his teaching robes and went to his office.

He started opening the post and saw quite a few Howlers in amongst the assorted letters, bills and notices from the Ministry on his desk. He cast his Sound-Dampening Charm and ripped open each Howler, letting them all silently squawk and shrill all at once, making all the painted denizens of previous Headmaster and Headmistresses move to the frames across the room, scowling and glaring at him, some silently pointing painted fingers, their mouths moving as they pointlessly tried to yell at him. He didn't care. He knew what most of the parents were angry about: the abuses the children reported to their parents, his supposed failure to prevent it and the ineptitude of the Carrows.

He ignored the portraits and began sorting through the rest of the parchmentwork and letters he'd received over the holiday break. As he expected, several parents were upset about the disciplinary practices allowed at the school. He was hardly surprised, although as the war raged on and resistance grew, discipline would likely get worse. He truly hoped that Misses Weasley, Wang, Weston and Abbott and Messrs Longbottom, Finnigan and Macmillan would curtail their activities, but he doubted it.

Peren brought him tea and breakfast.

The board of governors was demanding a professional review: lesson observations and work scrutiny. Great. Umbridge acting as Hogwarts High Inquisitor again, he sneered. He growled in frustration at the imposition and turned his full attention to the missive. He sighed in relief at the list of names: Franklin Avery, Rabastan Lestrange, Sylvester Rosier, Herman Baddock Jr. and Thaddeus Nott. Not that Umbridge hag. Just as well, but two of the appointments bothered him; Rabastan and Herman were still single, and Rabastan had always felt that he was above following the rules. That was a headache he didn't want. And according to Belinda, Baddock Sr. was trying to get Mr. Patil to agree to a betrothal between his daughter Padma and Baddock's son, Cecil; the boy was quite in favor of the match, but Miss Patil was reluctant to accept it. Belinda had even gone as far as to ask Severus to speak to the girl on Mr. Baddock's behalf, not that he would, and he'd informed Belinda that he didn't interfere in the children's relationships or marital affairs even when he'd been Head of House. He'd have to slip a cautiously worded note to Mrs. Patil before the start of term, though.

Minerva had left him a note attached to the scholastic and extracurricular timetables. Most of the extracurricular clubs would have to adjust their meeting times so that the students would be back in their common rooms earlier. He had already changed the hours for the library, closing it an hour before curfew to ensure that everyone would be in their common rooms in the evenings. That will thrill Hermione. Severus then reviewed the end of term exam results, unhappy at the dismal ineptitude of some of the students. He'd have to make mention of them in his start of term speech to the staff as well.

He opened a letter from Narcissa, informing him that Bellatrix would be demanding a new copy of the School Registry. Apparently she'd been livid regarding her lack of progress in the Muggle-born search, and she'd been screaming at Narcissa and Lucius that the list Severus had given her at Christmas was proving to be useless. The letter had been dated the day before the revel, so apparently the Dark Lord didn't find fault with Severus yet, or he hadn't questioned Bellatrix regarding her task.

There were letters from Messrs Crabbe, Goyle and Bole informing Severus that they had permission from the Dark Lord to see their sons play against both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Severus knew he couldn't refuse since they had already obtained permission to see the Slytherin-Gryffindor game, but Avery, Rosier, Nott and Lestrange had each sent missives informing him that they felt they had a right to be in the stands, too, since they would be at the castle reviewing the staff performances anyway. Several other Death Eaters, especially those living in Hogsmeade, wanted the privilege to attend as well and were claiming to already having the permission of the Dark Lord. Severus slammed his fist down, still clutching the last letter. He didn't like the idea of the school games becoming a Death Eater privilege.

He looked at the Quidditch timetables again. Slytherin would play Hufflepuff the seventeenth of this month, which could be another potentially brutal game considering that four of the members on the Hufflepuff team were friendly with or suspected of being involved with the DA group, and five Hufflepuffs, Farrah Chambers, Susan Bones, Zane Seymour, Christine Weston and Eleanor Brandstone, were among those who had been removed from the train at the end of term. Severus knew that Misses Bones, Seymour and Christine Weston had miraculously escaped, but he didn't know if their friends or housemates knew it yet. It also wouldn't help that Miss Seymour, who had been one of the Hufflepuff Chasers, would have to be replaced on the team.

Not only that, but five members of the Slytherin team were related to Death Eaters – two of them who had been involved in the raid. Not that the majority of the Hufflepuffs got along any better with the Slytherins than the Gryffindors did, since some Slytherins looked down on Hufflepuff so snidely, so all of this had the potential to heighten animosity.

Tensions in the castle were high; even Severus had noticed the division in the houses, much like it had been when he'd been a student, possibly even more so.

Gryffindor would play Ravenclaw the twenty-first of next month, which should be a nice clean game, and Slytherin would play Ravenclaw the twenty-eighth of March, then Gryffindor would play Hufflepuff the twenty-fifth of April. The two teams with the top overall points would then play for the house cup the sixth of May.

Severus scowled. The Slytherin-Ravenclaw game also had the potential for trouble, if the Slytherin-Hufflepuff game turned out to be anything like the Slytherin-Gryffindor game had been, considering four, possibly five members of the Ravenclaw team were thought to be in the DA, and six Ravenclaw students had been removed in the raid on the train: Luna Lovegood, Duane Saunders, Terry Boot, Stephen Cornfoot and Marietta Edgecombe... although Michael Corner had managed to escape as well.

Severus dropped the schedule on his desk and rubbed his lip with his thumb. He'd have to cancel the games, which would incense the students as well as the Death Eaters expecting the privilege of attending the games, and that could incite more students to join the DA. Not that he wanted that to happen. He could announce his decision in the middle of the week, or after the second or third round of writing appeared on the walls, but he couldn't wait any longer than the thirteenth or fourteenth to do so. He needed plenty of time to inform the families of the decision, especially the Death Eater families. His excuse to the Dark Lord would be to make the cancellation punishment for the resurgence of the DA activities, and considering that the attack on the Hogwarts Express at the end of last term and the missing students, the students in the DA would definitely be incited to up the ante. Yes, he'd wait until the twelfth or thirteenth.

He pulled out a pad of parchment and wrote out his start of term speech, brief and to the point, outlining all the necessary changes.

Next, he started on the letters to angry parents reminding them that they had no choice but to send their children back to Hogwarts due to the Ministry's educational decree two hundred and twenty nine, which stated that all children had to be educated at Hogwarts, the only Ministry approved school, and that the Department of Magical Education no longer sanctioned homeschooling or private tutorial education to qualify to sit for the OWLs or NEWT exams.

He picked up the next parchment and started reading the tedious report from the trustees' meeting.

~H~

Hermione woke by herself and immediately knew that Severus had not come to bed last night; the book she'd been reading still lay on the coverlet in the middle of the bed, and his pillow showed no sign of being used.

She got up to ready herself for the day, disappointed and a little annoyed, trying not to think about where or with whom he was with. She gritted her teeth and decided to take a peek in his half of the wardrobe, thinking that it was possible he'd changed and was maybe downstairs or in his new lab. Or still at Malfoy Manor. No, she wasn't going to second guess. She checked through his clothes, but all she saw was his everyday robes, his frockcoat and his trousers, all nicely cleaned and pressed. The hooded Death Eater's robe was not hanging on its hanger. His dressy boots stood next to the black biker boots with the leather straps she'd seen him wear around the castle and the steel toed dragon hide pair he wore when he brewed, but not the engineer biker boots he'd worn to the revel, and all three in the wardrobe looked as if they'd been recently cleaned and polished. She looked in the drawers and on the top shelf, searching frantically for his mask but it was not in the wardrobe either.

She slammed his side closed and pressed her hand on it, fighting back her tears. He really hadn't come home. He is still with... whomever he is with.

She wiped her face and dressed in her warmest top, her new Arran jumper, scarf and her boots, grabbed her coat, and headed out of the house. She knew that she couldn't go very far, but she needed to be outside, and walking in circles around the house would at least give her some exercise.

~D~

Draco walked through the Grand Hallway listening to the sounds of the house-elves trying to restore some order of normalcy to the drawing rooms. In the more secluded rooms, the slings, St. Andrews cross, the Tarquin T, spanking benches, rotation frame, pillory, and punishing supports and cages, where the half-blood whores who'd been stripped down naked, tied up, whipped, fucked and other wise humiliated for the entertainment of his fellow Death Eaters, were being removed, hopefully to someone else's house, but Draco doubted it. Aunt Bella and Belladonna Roiser had loved this part of the party. It made Draco sick.

Unavoidably, he'd had to play his part in the revel last night. The purpose of last night's revel sickened him. Normally, being given two luscious witches as entertainment to use as he'd wanted would have delighted Draco; in fact his father had paid for such diversions in the past. But last night was completely different from the hired whores used to relieve his manly urges without complications or entanglements. The women brought to the party last night were there for one reason only – to get impregnated – a breeding program disguised as a party, complete with aphrodisiac hors d'oeuvres and apéritifs, fertility potions and lust potions, followed by detection spells to verify his copulation to ensure his impregnation of the women. Even the five-course feast for those chosen to dine with the Dark Lord beforehand consisted of foods designed to heighten the sexual atmosphere and mood of the revelers.

Both women Draco had been paired with had been enthusiastic and skilled, but having to perform his sex acts before sneering and goading Death Eaters had made it nearly impossible to maintain an erection, let alone enjoy it. And the women had been doused for weeks on potions to ensure pregnancy, something that made Draco's stomach churn. He'd, in all likelihood, sired illegitimate children out of wedlock – two of them – both potential heirs to the Malfoy fortune. He could barely recall the witch's names; one had been a blonde, the other had a soft chestnut main of curls not unlike Hermione's. He hadn't even been able to see their faces, only their bodies. He knew that they were both older than he was, although not by much.

All his life his father had warned him not to get a girl pregnant out of wedlock, on pain of disinheritance and disembowelment, and last night, he'd impregnated two – two women who knew who he was and relished the idea of carrying his child. And the bastards would carry the Malfoy name.

He entered the Grand Drawing Room where Mengele had performed his perfunctory verification spells. The elaborately appointed Drawing room that had one time been furnished for lavish entertaining was now a vast open space: no chairs, no ornate furnishings, no rugs and the heavy drapes were drawn closed, hiding the beveled, lead glass windows. Only the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and the empty frames of the portraits of his ancestors on the dark purple walls remained.

The only illumination came from a roaring fire beneath the handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror and the black flame candles in the chandeliers, which emitted a dim violet glow on the ceiling and made the pigments in the oil paintings fluorescence, as well as Draco's white shirt. The fluorescence effect also made the Dark Lord's eyes glow and, by some magic unknown to Draco, it made the man whiter, not violet-blue as one would suspect. The Dark Lord often preferred to stand or sit in front the fire on the dais he'd created so his head was always above his loyal followers, his frame back lit for dramatic effect. Draco knew it made him feel superior.

Draco looked at the enlarged gilded chair on the dais. The once gracefully carved cherry wood armchair richly upholstered in beige tone damask cloth that had stood at the head of the dining room table where his father used to sit was now a throne, just as its twin, which his mother had previously used, was equally transformed and placed at the middle of the long dining table, and used solely by the new lord and master of Malfoy Manor – the Dark Lord.

The bare branches of Nagini's stand stood empty in its place of honor next to the Dark Lord's throne. It also stood over the secret trapdoor that led to the family's Dart Arts vaults, the original secret entrance, before the dungeons were put in. The rooms used to hold an impressive collection of Dark artifacts and Dark Arts books his family amassed over the generations. He wondered briefly if the vaults were still there, or if they had been stripped of their contents.

The drawing room was empty now. Draco wondered where the snake was. The Dark Lord was most likely upstairs in the Master Suite, but Draco knew the wizard didn't sleep much. At least he didn't sleep in the traditional sense like most humans; it was more of a state of mind in Draco's opinion than actually falling asleep, because the Dark Lord seemed to always be watching, waiting or pacing.

Draco turned and left the oppressive room, striding quickly for the door. He exited the house, planning on spending as much of his day out on the Quidditch pitch as possible. If not, he'd fly his broom to Gloucestershire to visit Goyle. Anything to be out of the house and away from the nightmare that had become his life.

~C~

Cillian never felt more tired and weighted down in his life. His mum had slept soundly, absolutely exhausted all day, waking only to allow him or ol' Ben to feed and care for her – not that she'd eat much. When his mum was awake, she was incredibly irritable or lethargic. Watching her sleep, he was in utter shock to see how emaciated she'd become. She was too thin, like a skinny little kitten. Her stomach looked bloated, her skin looked dehydrated – dry and crinkly like tissue paper, and her nails were chipped and broken. The skin on her face appeared gaunt and shallow, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

He hated himself that he hadn't noticed how bad she was getting. What kind of a monster had he become that he'd let this continue for so long? How many times had he walked by her and looked away or looked down, mentally acknowledging her presence, but refusing to look at her. But then he'd hated to see the vacant expression, lackluster eyes and drool coming from her mouth, common effects of someone under the Imperius who hadn't been given a direction to carry out other than 'sit here and be quiet.'

He wondered briefly what state his dad was in, but then, he was probably in better condition if he'd Apparated that night. Unless, Grandfather Riorden had carried him the way ol' Ben had been carrying Cillian's mum.

He hated Bell for doing this to her, to them, and he was furious at Marc for allowing it as well. Justin's business in international shipping of magical spices and potions ingredients kept him busy, and he was frequently traveling out of the country, but Cillian wondered how Justin had missed the degradation of their mum and dad if even his sisters-in-law saw it.

Probably the same way Cillian had, by not wanting to go against Bell or Marc, both who were loyal extremists.

His mum needed medical help from a reliable Healer, but since the Dark Lord held control over St Mungo's, taking her there was out of the question, and if he sought help from either Healer Pushpa Bastula or Henry Dunlap, Bell could find out Cillian had taken his mum away and would report him to the Dark Lord.

His mum's house-elf, Prissy, had thankfully come when his mum had weakly called her, and the house-elf, after Cillian had explained the precarious situation, promised to not only stay hidden from the Muggles, but that she'd use no magic what-so-ever in the Muggle hotel. So far no one had noticed, but he knew that his luck wouldn't hold out if they were careless.

Now he had to come up with somewhere to put his mum, somewhere safe where she could stay and not draw attention to herself. Right now, even a rudimentary Levitation or a basic Hoover Charm would be risky. If she or Prissy did magic in that hotel room, the Ministry would know and send someone to check, and his mum and ol' Ben would be handed over to the MRC. That would be a disaster; Yaxley and Runcorn hated blood traitors, Umbridge was a bigoted hag with a authority complex, and if convicted, which could honestly happen considering his mum was defecting in a way. His mum would not survive Azkaban.

Cillian returned to the island on Thursday to shower and change clothes. He approached the back garden from the trees and smirked at the triple set of identical boot prints in the snow along the inside of the barrier. He looked up and saw Hermione bundled up, wrapped up in Severus' thick winter cloak over a heavy jumper and the scarf he'd given her, sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"Is Severus with you?" she asked as he approached her.

"No," Cillian said and stomped his boots on the flagstones. If she is asking me about his whereabouts, then Severus isn't here. Damn.

"Have you seen him?" Hermione asked Cillian as he turned, trying to discern what he should do.

"No, not since the party," he replied. If Severus hasn't returned, where would he be? Hermione was safe enough here, she couldn't leave the house. He turned heel and left, ignoring Hermione as she called after him.

Cillian went to Spinner's End, not really expecting to see his friend there either. The house was dark, and the door warded. He cast a quick, "Inhabitationem human," and nothing. No one was in the house.

He decided to try the school.

He'd startled Malburke and Jugson when he appeared, but they let him through the school gates without question.

Cillian saw Hagrid's hut, and he smiled at the slight wisps of smoke from the chimney and the shuttered windows. Cillian always liked the ol' grounds keeper. A professor now, Care of Magical Creatures, but what else could he teach really – there wasn't a magical beast Hagrid didn't know about. Of course, he'd favor the dangerous beasts, but then all the others were not really a problem for the large, kind-hearted wizard. Cillian secretly approved. "Better to know the dangerous ones and how to deal with or avoid them than spend your time with the easy creatures whose handling you could get from reading a book," he'd told Severus one night when he'd told Cillian that Hagrid had shown third-years hippogriffs – and let Harry Potter ride it! Personally, he'd have loved to have had that kind of opportunity as a student. Truthfully, Cillian was sorry that Hermione didn't take Care of Magical Creatures; he'd have enjoyed the lectures and the beasts.

Looking at the hut, Cillian suspected that the groundskeeper was probably in the Dumbledore's Order of Phoenix, a rebellion consisting of old farts and an army of children. Oh, yeah, they stood a chance against an army of Death Eaters.

Hermione's words came unbidden to him, 'Harry is the leader of Dumbledore's Army – he always has been!' But Cillian was certain that Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Ginny Weasley were leading it now. Unless, they were somehow in touch with Potter. Had Hermione met up with Potter while she'd been missing? She said repeatedly that she chose to come back... It was a possibility, one he hadn't considered until now. But if she did, how did she manage it? And why wasn't Severus upset that she had...? Unless he knew!

Cillian looked up at the castle, he could see where the Entrance Hall and the main staircase were located, the Astronomy Tower, Ravenclaw Tower, the Great Hall with its magnificent windows, but his gaze stopped on the Headmaster's Tower, where Severus resided. That afternoon when Severus had dumped Hermione on the island and then left mysteriously – to go harvest a graphorn, of all things. But he had; Dianne had the hide in the basement to prove it, which is why Cillian hadn't questioned it at the time.

But had Severus seen Potter and Weasley when he'd rescued Hermione from the graphorn? He'd assumed Severus had rescued the girl from the beast, otherwise why would Severus have killed it – for the horns and hide? Had he saved her friends from the graphorn as well? Had Hermione been with them and then chose to come back? Had he let them go? He now had so many questions about that night that didn't make sense.

It wasn't the first time Cillian had questioned Severus' actions where Hermione and her friends were concerned. Cillian had overheard Severus and Hermione that day in the hospital when she'd been poisoned with the Crane's Concoction. Right before Cillian had stepped around the curtain and let himself be known, he'd heard Severus admit to having seen Hermione and her friends in a museum. Which museum he didn't know, and he didn't know when this had happened, but Severus had admitted that he'd seen them, knowing they were wanted... and he'd let them go.

Cillian entered the castle and ran up to the Headmaster's tower, but the gargoyle said that the Headmaster was in a meeting in the staff room. Cillian turned to go back down the stairs. On his way down, he paused to look at the door to Alecto's office. The poisoning – that was the day the students turned the corridor outside of the Muggle Studies classroom into a swamp. The swamp was still in the corridor. Severus had not exerted his authority to have the swamp removed, so Filius had simply made a raised walkway through the swamp for the students. In fact, Severus frequently impedes Amycus and Alecto, especially from harming the students – not that I condone child abuse – but I've seen him thwart them time and time again regarding Hermione and her friends, especially Ginny. None of the others would do so if they'd been headmaster.

Thinking about it, Cillian half suspected that Severus might have warned someone about the raid on the Hogwarts Express at the start of Christmas holiday, but that was farfetched. However... the number of students who had Portkeys could hardly be considered a coincidence – especially since the students who had them were all members of Dumbledore's Army or were on friendly terms with Ginny, Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan.

He'd heard that Michael Corner had managed to escape from Goyle, Crabbe and Bole by Portkey with three Hufflepuff girls: Amelia Bones' niece, Susan, Algernon Seymour's daughter, Zane, and Christine Weston – the younger sister of Charlene Weston, the girl Bole was holding.

Cillian entered the staff room and slipped into a seat in the back.

Then there is the matter of the copies Bellatrix wanted of the Hogwarts School Registry. In November, every child whose address was copied from the School Registry had either moved or disappeared, and last month, Severus deliberately delayed giving Bellatrix the copies until two days after Christmas – six days later – instead of giving them to her on the winter solstice as he'd been ordered to. Of course, his excuse had been Minerva's presence in the castle and then Hermione's escape... Bellatrix had been livid. Professor McGonagall kept the book locked up, and the key was nowhere in her office. However, as Headmaster, Severus could get into her office anytime he needed to – or couldn't he? Cillian was convinced he could've if he'd wanted – so why lie. Another lie?

Severus had admitted to lying to the Dark Lord on a few occasions. The morning after Hermione escaped, Severus blatantly admitted to lying to the Dark Lord, saying it hadn't been the first time, or some such rot. That was before he'd brought her to the island, casually dropping her off and disappearing again? What was he up to?

Cillian watched Severus thoughtfully while he conducted his staff meeting.

~S~

The staff had gathered all afternoon for the first meeting of the spring term. Severus handed out the timetables he'd revised for the term ahead and the extracurricular timetables. There was very little discussion since he'd made very few changes, although Alecto had insisted on being given a new office since the tree that had been planted in her floor had grown back; the branches had demolished all the windows again, the roots broke up the floor and impeded her ability to use her desk or to reach her bookshelves. "You can use the smaller office down the corridor, that is if you are incapable of removing the tree yourself," Severus offered, then he calmly turned and asked the staff to give him their supply lists by the end of the day, ignoring Alecto's outraged expression. He then quickly launched into his speech about the year ahead before Filius could call point of order and initiate a discussion.

When he'd said, "This year, it's all about standards, that we maintain a level of excellence," a few professors snorted softly, gaining an irritated look form Alecto. Severus read the midterm exam results and gave his estimation on how many students will pass their upcoming exams: the end of term exams and OWLs and NEWTs. "If you have any NEWT student in danger of failing, they should drop the class – if they are OWL level, please inform the student's Heads of House as soon as possible and then together come up with a revision plan. I'd rather not have a poor academic showing. Remember, the Dark Lord is in control of the school, and he does not tolerate failure. So be warned, not only for yourselves but for that of your students."

Alecto actually blanched, Amycus looked stunned, and a few of the teachers looked aghast, but the rest of the staff was furious at the threat.

Minerva sat up straighter. "Severus, surely he wouldn't..."

"Yes, he would," Severus said flatly, staring at her, hoping she'd understand and warn the others. "Just so you all know, a professional review will be conducted by the board of governors – every one of you shall have your lessons observed, and your work and the student's progress scrutinized. The list of inquisitors includes, Franklin Avery, Rabastan Lestrange, Sylvester Rosier, Herman Baddock Jr. and Thaddeus Nott."

Minerva and Filius nodded in understanding, but Alecto and Amycus looked smug.

"You'll be notified the dates and times of the review as soon as I am informed. They will also observe the extracurricular magical groups and clubs to assure the students' safety," Severus said, looking pointedly at Pomona and Filius.

"And so you're not teaching them stuff that they is not to know" Amycus sneered.

Severus made a false smile as he turned to face the wizard. "Amycus, you're not to teach the students any spell you cannot reverse yourself or Rabastan Lestrange will be joining your lessons permanently."

Amycus huffed as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "I don' need his help."

"We shall see about that." Severus turned back to his staff and informed the Head of House of the possible need of counseling concerns for the students with missing or arrested parents. "Heads of House will have to reassure the parents of the students under them that the school is still safe," again a snort, but he ignored it, "and all punishments will meet within the guidelines set by the school governors."

Alecto scowled.

Severus continued, ignoring her petulance, "All professors will continue maintaining the discipline in their classrooms and conduct their own detentions; any and all violations and rule breaking outside of the classroom will still fall to me. Is that understood?"

Alecto looked murderous. That didn't bode well.

"That is all," Severus stated, cutting off any further discussions or conversations. "Minerva, please come with me to my office," he said softly as she packed her things. He wanted to ask Minerva in private if the students' addresses had updated in the School Registry and remind her to keep the book locked, if thirty portraits interfering with annoying questions and suggestions could be considered as private. He knew she'd ask about the disciplinary guidelines and Filch's gibbet cages and pillory in the Entrance Hall as well, neither subject he could reassure her on.

"Certainly, Headmaster," she replied, if not a bit curtly.

Her curt reply hurt. He was doing his best under tremendous pressures from all sides. Merlin, he wished he could confide in her without divulging his true loyalty or his promise to Dumbledore and thus compromise position with the Dark Lord. But if the Dark Lord ever came to the school, and if Minerva was ever questioned, her openness would be a huge liability. He wished he had someone in the castle who knew the truth beside a bunch of painted denizens sworn to keep his secrets and advise him in educational matters – among other things. He grabbed his parchments and walked with her to the door.

Cillian approached as Severus was about to leave the room. "I need to talk to you."

The look in his friend's eyes sent a chill through him. Hermione? What happened? "Of course." He turned to Minerva. "I need to handle this." How long will this take? He needed to confirm the security of the School Registry. "I will come find you when I'm done."

Her eyes turned frosty, but she nodded once sharply, her posture rigid. "Of course, Headmaster. I'll be in my office."

He watched her leave, once again wishing she could be trusted. He turned to Cillian, another he wished he could be completely open with. "What happened?"

"Can we talk privately?" Cillian asked, looking at Pomona and Filius as they followed after Minerva.

Severus kept his composure; if Cillian wanted to talk in private, then Hermione was all right, but that didn't mean she wasn't misbehaving. "Of course, follow me," he said, his bearing straight and tall as he regarded his friend. They walked in silence all the way to the gargoyle, and by the time they reached his office, Severus felt a bit calmer. Whatever it was, it wasn't emergent; his friend didn't seem to be in any rush. He led Cillian up to his sitting room, away from the prying ears of the portraits, taking his favorite chair by the window. "Now, tell me what is going on?"

"Keep this between us, will you – augh, you're going to find out anyway!" Cillian sat down facing him, his forearms on his thighs and his hands clenched together. "Grandfather Riorden broke into the house New Year's Eve and released mum and dad – dad ran off with him," Cillian said and sat up, looking out the window.

Severus was relieved; Hermione was all right. Tannis and Riorden would be put on the deserters' list, but with their money, and since they were not marked, they could go anywhere. "And?" he said slowly, knowing by his friend's expression that there was more to the story. What about Elspeth? Is she still trapped in the house?

His friend turned his head, staring Severus in the eyes, but they were guarded, unsure. "And now I have a personal matter I need some time to sort out..."

Severus forced himself to relax, lowering his guard down slightly, trying to appear calm, but his thoughts went into overdrive. What? Now? This couldn't come at a worse time. What the fuck am I going to do with Hermione? Lock her in a tower? "How much time?" He dreaded the answer.

~~o0o~~

Author's Notes:

Uh-oh! I know, but Cillian's answer is in the next chapter.