Why didn’t they ask Snape?
He looked more annoyed than worried when he barged unceremoniously into Maeve’s office. She was sitting at her desk with a stack of Ministry notebooks surrounding her and greeted him with a slight smile on her face.
“Glad you could make it,” she said, attempting mild humour. Severus, however, was not in a humorous frame of mind.
“Bloody ridiculous,” he said, apropos of nothing. She watched as he began to walk around her rooms muttering under his breath and flicking his wand around. For a moment she thought he had gone completely barmy but his serious expression led her to believe he may well have been checking the room for any eavesdroppers. Once he had been through the rooms thoroughly and was satisfied that there was no one lurking in the corners or using any listening devices he returned to the outer office.
“I warned Dumbledore,” he said, satisfaction oozing from every pore. “It’s Rampton, isn’t it?”
Maeve looked astounded. Whatever she had been expecting Severus to say, it hadn’t been that. She floundered for a few moments as he watched her, with a black look on his face. When she didn’t speak he carried on with his own thoughts.
“He’s always giving people second chances without any thought for the safety of people who might inadvertently get in the way of his pet projects. He knows Rampton’s family history and yet he still brought him into the school. Would you bring in someone of such debatable pedigree?” He looked at her with malicious fervour, expecting her to agree with him.
“He brought you in,” she said quietly, getting up from her desk and closing the open window. The draft and Severus’ face were competing to see who could create the coldest sensation and Severus was winning. She was unprepared for this rant against Roderick but even she could see the irony of what Severus was saying. “And you were a confirmed Death Eater, Severus.”
“I see no parallel,” Severus replied in a frosty voice. “The circumstances were completely different.”
“To you, perhaps,” she said. “And perhaps Roderick sees his position in the same way you saw yours.”
He stood there with his arms firmly folded across his chest and looked irritated by the challenge. Maeve waited for his response and when she saw she had won the argument she waved a hand at the seat opposite hers and told him to sit down. She sat on her side of the desk, resting her feet carelessly on her chair.
“If I told you that I thought the cure for Somnus Funestus could be found in Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, what would you say?” she asked, watching as his lips twitched slightly.
“I’d say you had either been drinking or were a little delirious. However, you obviously have some reason for thinking that, so out with it.” He tried to look serious but at the mention of Drooble’s gum he couldn’t help but feel she had lurched from one ridiculous thought to another.
“Alice Longbottom was an Auror,” she began.
“Yes, I know who Alice Longbottom was. Get to the point.”
“Alice Longbottom was an Auror,” she began again, this time going just a little more slowly, “who, at the time of Voldemort’s first demise, was working on the possibility that Carduus Amara was being produced. I think Alice knew a lot more than is contained in these notebooks because to this day, despite the fact she is mentally incapable of much, she still tries to give Neville Drooble’s gum. My mother hinted that it might be protection.”
“Your mother’s dead,” Severus said laconically, picking at invisible fluff on his well-tailored robes.
“How observant,” she said sarcastically. “I also have her portrait… oh!”
“I’m on the edge of my seat,” he said as he waited for another of her brainwaves to be voiced. He was having difficulty taking this idea seriously and this was reflected in his relaxed attitude.
“I wonder if that’s what Dumbledore thought I should have when he sent Hagrid to Abbeylara… do you think it might be?”
“Maeve, where your maladjusted family is concerned, I try not to think.”
“Cauldron, kettle, black,” she retorted. “But seriously, if you could stop being annoying for a minute. Do you think that’s what it could have been?”
“Possibly,” he conceded. “It could have been anything in all of this.” His slender hand wafted around the room. “I hardly think even Dumbledore would have had the foresight to think your mother could unlock the secret to our current problems though.”
“No, I suppose not.” She looked disappointed but immediately returned to her theorising. “So, we have Alice connected to both Carduus Amara and the gum. I have also been finding the stuff lying around in various places, places that Roderick could have been.”
Severus gave a snort that indicated he had been right about Roderick all along. Maeve ignored his I-told-you-so expression and continued.
“And today I had an interesting conversation with Draco Malfoy who intimated that he, or at least his father, knew something advantageous about the gum. Do you have any ideas about that? He is, after all, in your house.”
Severus shook his head calmly. Despite his outward support of Draco Malfoy, he had grown to dislike the child. Quite apart from the fact he was Lucius’ son and the daughter of Narcissa, he loathed the fact that Malfoy Junior was always dragging at his father’s coat tails and didn’t seem to have the intelligence to be anything other than Lucius Malfoy’s son. Had he showed some wit or independent thought then Severus may have favoured him out of respect rather than the fact he was in Slytherin and the son of a high-profile member of the board of governors. Or at least he had been; now he was the son of a celebrated Death Eater who wouldn’t have been allowed within a mile of the school. Perhaps he also disliked the notion that Draco reminded him rather too much of himself at that age, reminded him of the choices he had taken.
“I’m not sure that Draco would know about something like that, even if Lucius was involved…and there is nothing to suggest he is,” Severus said mildly.
“I know, but given Lucius’ history don’t you think he could be involved somehow?”
“With Lucius anything is possible.” Severus felt aggression rise in him as he remembered his schooldays and the way he had been forced to do Lucius’ bidding. It had been humiliating to say the least, almost as humiliating as the way Black and Potter had taunted him. He had successfully hidden the extent of his connections to Lucius from Maeve. She had always known his father was power-hungry and wished to cloak himself in the glory that came with a high profile but she had never realised the lengths his father had forced him to go to to keep Lucius and his father Marcus happy. In some ways Sirius had been right when he had called him Lucius’ lap dog – not that Severus would have admitted that to anyone.
“Assume I’m right,” Maeve’s lilt brought him back from the brink of bad memories. “Do you think there is something in the gum that could be protecting people against either the vapour or the plant?”
“Again, it’s a possibility. Are you suggesting we obtain this product and test it? We still have Fudge and that witch taking up space in the hospital wing.” Finally Severus’ interest was aroused by the fact that he could do something more appealing than merely speculate. He tapped his tapering fingers together in anticipation as she leant across the desk, her face lit with pleasure because he hadn’t dismissed the idea.
“Should we?” Her childlike eagerness made him smile, despite himself, and he gave in to it.
“I’ll talk to Dumbledore. I’ll also talk to Rampton.” He looked at her with that protective glance she had seen him develop over the past few days and it comforted her to know he was prepared to stand between her and anything problematic. Not that she wanted him to, but the knowledge that he would was further proof of the bond that had re-emerged between them.
“I spoke to Harry today,” she said. “He mentioned the incident last year with the Pensieve.”
There were some things that Severus found extremely difficult to consider and that incident with Potter and his memory was one of them. His dark brows sank over pale eyelids as he prepared to withdraw into his shell once more.
“He is trying to understand, Severus. He is not his father, despite what you think,” Maeve said, with gentleness in her voice. “He is a boy, a boy with the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. He is not, nor ever will be, the carefree, thoughtless James Potter that we knew.”
“Potter was more than thoughtless, he was vindictive,” Severus said bitterly.
“You were different to them and they just didn’t understand you. Lily liked you though. She stuck up for you on more than one occasion.”
“Lily pitied me; it was in her eyes.”
“That’s not true,” Maeve said, her intelligent face hurt by the harm James and Sirius had caused back then. “She didn’t want to see you upset in the same way that I didn’t.”
“There was a difference between you and Lily though,” he said. “You actually liked me, while Lily just felt I was somebody she could exercise her pent-up compassion on. Admit that your friend had failings,” he urged.
“We’ve all got failings, Severus. I think the two of us have more than most.” She smiled and stood up, crossing to his side of the desk and placing warm hands on his stiffened shoulders. “We need to accept them and forget the mistakes we made.” She kneaded his shoulders a little and he relaxed beneath her, allowing the heat from her hands to penetrate his cold skin. “So, do we get excited about Drooble’s or not?”
“I think we may permit ourselves to think about the prospect,” he replied as her fingers worked at him. “But I need to speak with Roderick first. I need to see how great his potential is for causing you harm.”
“He has had ample opportunity to hurt me,” she pointed out. “He could easily have killed me at Abbeylara…or had me killed.”
“Yes, but that was before you had connected him to plans of the Dark Lord. You know his father worked for him in some capacity. I never knew exactly what it was but I would put my money on the son following in the father’s footsteps.”
Severus had spent quite some time thinking back to past meetings with the other Death Eaters in an attempt to discover what it was he connected Rampton with. It had not been comfortable, although some of the memories were not altogether unpleasant. He remembered the older Rampton well. There had been something present in him that was not there with the others that surrounded Voldemort. Rampton had, on occasion, displayed compassion. Severus had known why the old man killed himself; it was obvious to anyone who could connect him to the old days. He did not want to endure serving the Dark Lord again and Severus had to admit, if faced with the same prospect, he might well consider taking the same course of action himself.
“You didn’t follow in your father’s footsteps,” she pointed out as her probing fingers found a way past his tight collar. She playfully undid the first button of his tight robes and loosened the noose around his neck. He grabbed her hands to prevent her from doing any more damage and she twisted free, dragging her fingers along his neck as she broke the contact.
“I need to speak to Rampton,” he insisted, ignoring the score of her nails on his skin and steering her away from any discussion about his father.
She relented and allowed him to stand. The dust hung in the air of her room as the sunlight filled the stony space. Maeve knew that she had lessons to teach that afternoon but as the clock turned inexorably towards one o’clock she was less inclined to leave her room. As Severus turned to face her she knew, with a wistful lurch of recollection, that the only place she wanted to be was with him. It was as if she had been transported back to their time at school when she had been free to enjoy his company without any other intruders stealing away their time together.
“I have a class,” she said, following her own train of thought.
“Lucky you,” he said. “I have the enviable prospect of a free afternoon. It will afford me the opportunity of dealing with our titled friend.”
“I like him,” Maeve said honestly. “You obviously have your suspicions but despite his past I still like him. I can’t believe he could be so wholly bad.”
“You are entitled to your opinion but you’ll have to forgive me if, in this instance, I don’t agree with it.”
“I’ll allow you the latitude,” she said, following him to the door. “But I bet I’m right.”
“I’m not a betting man,” he replied, playing her game for a moment. He had forgotten how stimulating her conversation could be, despite its constant, confrontational nature. “If I was a betting man, I would place a large amount of money on Mr Rampton being in this right up to his rather aristocratic neck.”
“You don’t like people like him, do you?” she said, walking into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It must have felt natural to Severus because he allowed his arms to rest on her waist and let her face sit just a few inches from his own.
“And what is he?” he asked.
“Old money, wizarding aristocracy, a house that he didn’t have to buy and with family connections going back centuries.” As she spoke her hair brushed against his shoulders, red and black mingling.
“I don’t like everything that those things usually stand for. My father drove my mother and myself to the very limits of reason trying to gain those things, but he could not see that he would never be anything other than an interloper in their society. The only thing he had in his favour was his pure bloodline. My father–” the word held such contempt that it made Maeve wince “– was happy to be their puppet rather than be his own man.”
“But you don’t resent my background?”
“Of course I do,” he said, surprising her with the vehemence of his response. “But I think you are like me. We didn’t fit within the framework set out for us and we managed to free ourselves. Perhaps, one unfortunate day, Abbeylara will come back to you and you can return like some prodigal child emerging from the wilderness. Then you will have to make a decision as to whether you take up the mantle of your own breeding.”
She cocked her head to one side and lapsed into silence as she tried to assess his words. The breeding he referred to wasn’t really her breeding; she was of different lineage than the one that now ruled Abbeylara.
“I don’t want Abbeylara,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ve already seen the home I want and it doesn’t involve a building with more than five rooms. If you are very lucky I might take you there.”
As his black, bottomless eyes watched her steadily she was reminded of her little fantasy of the cottage and child. Could it be grasped or was it merely a trick her mind played on her? Was that her idea of contentment? The feel of his hands at the base of her spine felt so consuming that she almost voiced her longing for a family life but the sudden lunge of his lips prevented her saying anything. He pulled back and released her as she raised a hand to touch her sullied mouth.
“You are making a habit of that, Professor,” she said. “You had better not let Harry catch you at it.” She was out of the door before he had the chance to respond and she didn’t hear his aggravated sigh as she sped off to her class with a spring in her step that had everything to do with Severus and little to do with Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.
Severus quickly threw off the pleasant feeling that he had discovered he felt whenever he kissed her and stepped silently into the corridor. A chill crept along its reaches as spring failed to arrive for yet another day. Not, he thought, that the corridors ever felt much warmer, even in the height of summer. Flickering torches lit the walls, sending shadows dancing across the stonework. Severus folded his arms tightly across his chest as he waited for his prey to show itself. He had absolutely no doubt that Rampton was there, waiting for him to go before streaking off after Maeve. Rampton was no fool and would want to avoid a confrontation at all costs.
Half an hour, and a particularly good Arithmancy puzzle, later and Rampton still remained hidden behind the statue of Calliope Cooper, an ex-Gryffindor head of house. Severus rolled his eyes before speaking into the silence.
“I have all day, Rampton. You, however, are rapidly running out of time.”
Only the passing wind answered him and he brushed a strand of black hair away from his face. He had no intention of moving and if this carried on much longer he would be forced to haul the cowering man out of his hiding place. He was just about to withdraw his wand when a rustle from behind the statue caused him to pause.
“What do you want, Snape?” He heard the voice before he caught sight of the red robes as Roderick extricated himself from his hiding place. He straightened up and gave Severus a poisonous look. He had no wish to do this but even Roderick could see the stubbornness in the nature of the older man.
“Well, Rampton,” Severus’ voice trickled loathing with every syllable. “What are you up to?”
“I have no idea what you mean, Snape,” Roderick replied. “But I really do have a job to do and you detaining me prevents me from doing it.”
“Does it?” Severus’ face was emotionless as he moved closer to the bold young man. “And what happened last night? Did someone else detain you, someone more important- or more powerful- than I?”
“Sick aunt,” Roderick said too quickly. “I told Dumbledore.”
“But of course,” Severus circled him disconcertingly, “Dumbledore believes you. You are his attempt to make peace with the world. You are the same as the werewolf Lupin, dangerous.”
“I am completely loyal to Dumbledore! How dare you question my fidelity?” Roderick’s usual bluster was completely lost on Severus’ cold figure.
“I question it, Rampton, in the same way I question myself. I find that I am not lacking but I wonder… are you? Why did you not hand over Maeve when you had the chance? Imagine the leverage that would have bought you from the Dark Lord.”
Roderick gave a high-pitched laugh. “You still call him the Dark Lord and yet you question my integrity! Perhaps it is you who is preparing Maeve to be the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.”
He yelped with pain as Severus grabbed him by the throat and thrust him harshly into the wall. Cold breath filled Roderick with momentary fear as Severus fired visual curses into him. He was shaken by the amount of hatred and love that manifested itself in those black eyes. Both men remained locked in this position for a few moments before Severus finally trusted himself to speak.
“I do not have any faith you, Rampton. I want to know exactly what connection your father had to the Dark Lord. You will tell me now or you will face the consequences.”
“What consequences!” Roderick almost laughed but the razor-like quality of Severus’ fingers against his throat subdued the mirth.
“I am not above fabricating something suitable if it will achieve my aims. I have a good relationship with Mr Filch. For some reason he brings me information that he would otherwise keep to himself. Partial to a drink in the Hog’s Head, aren’t we?” The implication was clear from the tone of his voice.
Roderick was beginning to feel he had been backed into a corner, both figuratively and bodily. He knew he should have dealt with Filch immediately, brainless Squib!
“My father allowed our land to be used by Voldemort,” Roderick admitted. “That was it. I didn’t want the connection to be made. I wanted to protect the family name.”
“The family name!” Severus spat scornfully. “You fool. A family name means nothing to anyone of any account.”
“You would say that,” Roderick replied viciously. He wrenched his neck from Severus’ grasp. “You have no family name. How far do you go back… a few generations and you pass yourself off as a Pureblood. But it’s a fabrication. Most people know that your father wasn’t a Pureblood.”
“Purity has nothing to do with blood. It takes experience to realise that.”
“Would you have traded your self-inflicted Pureblood status for that of a Mudblood?” he asked and was rewarded with hesitation from Severus. “Of course you wouldn’t. Who would? Would you want the students to know your father was a nothing?”
“I would not betray those that I love, whatever their bloodline,” he snapped.
“Oh, save me the cheap sentiment,” Roderick sneered. “The only thing I have is my name and I intend to keep it that way. What use is love? It’s a passing fancy that is gone as quickly as it arrives. Maeve is nice enough in an inconsequential way, but there is little there to keep one amused for long. Perhaps you will realise that soon enough.”
“You are a shallow, foolish man.” Severus was only just keeping control of his temper as his jet eyes assessed Roderick’s scornful face. “Do you really believe that Maeve would be interested in you? There isn’t enough in that empty head of yours to keep her occupied beyond the occasional trivial lunch. And don’t think I haven’t seen you trying to curry her favour. You aren’t fit to clean her classroom.”
“I think I could go a long way with her, if I put my mind to it. Have you bedded her yet?” He leered at the taller man and his face was swollen with superiority. “No? I could. Shall we lay a wager on it, Snape? The first to bed Maeve O’Malley gets to keep his position in the school.”
“You have no position within this school,” Severus said, his hand trembled on the shaft of his wand as he tried to do the right thing. What would one little Cruciatus curse matter on someone as loathsome as this?
“I could have any position I wanted. Dumbledore has a lot of faith in me, probably more than he has in you if the only reason he believes you switched sides was because of that little tart.” Roderick ignored the tightening around his throat. “I could walk right into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. How would you like that, Professor Snape? I could walk into the position you covet and the bed of the woman you want to love.”
Neville puffed his way up the staircase. It was risky, slipping out between lessons, but as it was Herbology and Professor Sprout considered him something of a star pupil he thought he would get away with it. In his hand he clutched the contents of the owl his grandmother had sent him that morning. The letter itself contained the usual entreaties to do well and apply himself, as if he ever did anything other than apply himself. It wasn’t entirely his fault if the subjects to which he applied himself didn’t accept him. His gran loved him, of that he was in no doubt, but she also saw him as a replacement for his father, and a disappointing one at that. She kept sending him pictures of his dad that she insisted she had unearthed in the course of cleaning the house. Neville had seen the box she took these pictures from and he knew it had nothing to do with cleaning and more to do with the need to keep his father’s memory alive.
The picture she had sent today had been of his mum and dad just before he had been born. It was the usual image, his mum looking up adoringly at his father while wearing strange hairstyles and oddly patterned robes. What made this one unusual, however, was the writing on the back. He had traced the looped letters with a loving finger as he tried to imagine his mum placing her quill against the back of the picture and writing the inscription. He tried, and failed, to imagine her touching the photograph that he held in his hand. Neville never allowed his grief to come to the surface; he bolted it down and hoped that one day something could be done for his mum. But his gran pooh-poohed the idea, insisting that what was done was done and they must accept the way things were.
As Neville reached the top of the stairs he heard angry, low voices arguing and he paused. His normally placid nature warned him to turn away and walk back down the stairs; he could deliver the image at the end of the day. He heard a voice he didn’t recognise say something about Professor O’Malley and this arrested his urge to retreat. What did ‘bed’ mean, he thought as he hesitated between stepping forward and stepping back.
“You would not get either, Rampton.”
That was Professor Snape’s voice and this almost decided it for Neville. He really didn’t want to bump into Severus unless he absolutely had to.
“She’d bend over backwards for me, Snape. Let’s face it, she could have pure, unadulterated pleasure or a moment of inadequate fumbling with a man whose idea of foreplay is to put his slippers on.”
It now dawned on Neville just what was going on. Whatever he thought of Professor Snape, he knew that Professor O’Malley liked him. It would never be enough to make him understand the man, but it was enough to make him step out into the corridor and defend her.
His eyes widened as he saw Severus withdraw his wand and point it into the other man’s face. Neville tried to say something but his voice failed him. Snape was shouting, he was threatening the Cruciatus curse and the other man was mocking him. Now the other man had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Severus, but he was too slow and with a quick “Expelliarmus!” Severus had disarmed his opponent. As the professor’s wand sang through the air again and the beginnings of the Cruciatus curse formed on his lips Neville grasped at his own wand. His only thoughts were for his mother and father lying in their hospital beds and he did not think of the consequences as he opened his mouth.
“Expelliarmus!”
Severus watched in horror as his wand snatched itself from his grasp and slithered across the floor in the direction of the boy that stood, bathed in light, at the end of the corridor. Rampton gave a horrible laugh and knocked Severus’ hand away from his throat.
“Defeated by a schoolboy, Severus! How fitting.” He threw himself after his own wand but as he did so the boy at the end of the corridor spoke again.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Roderick was momentarily suspended in mid-air before he crashed to the ground in a stiffened reel. Neville’s bravado evaporated quickly as his Potions master turned his pale face towards him.
“I’m so… sorr…sorry,” spluttered Neville, doing his best impression of a tortured soul as he faced his nemesis.
“Come here, boy!” Severus commanded as he swept forward to pick up his wand.
Neville hesitantly approached the professor as the sniggering torchlight illuminated his nightmare. He was never very good at reading faces and the sallow face that now confronted him was totally impassive in its rigidity.
“What are you doing out of lessons?” Severus hissed and Neville quaked a little.
“I… I had something…for P…Professor O…O’Malley, Sir,” Neville wavered.
“Give it to me.” Severus held out an expectant hand.
“No, Sir,” Neville suddenly felt emboldened. Perhaps it was the sight of the prone man on the floor or perhaps it was the fact he had prevented a professor casting an Unforgivable curse… whatever it was Neville had decided he was not going to hand over the photograph.
“Are you disobeying an order, Longbottom?” The name came out in a mocking tone and Neville winced.
“Yes, Sir,” he replied. “I have something for Professor O’Malley and if she is not here then I will give it to her later.” He stopped and looked once again at the petrified man on the floor. “I don’t know what was going on, Sir, but he said some things that were horrible. I understand why you wanted to curse him but… well…it’s not right, sir.”
“Not right?” Severus gazed down at the boy and felt something that bordered upon admiration. He brushed the feeling away and reminded himself that this was Neville Longbottom. “And you would know what is not right?”
“Yes, Sir. Casting that curse is never right. It has taken my parents…” Neville didn’t finish and he waited for Professor Snape to announce his punishment for disarming a teacher, not to mention using the petrifying spell on a complete stranger.
“Very well, Longbottom. Get back to your class.” The dismissal was immediate and it surprised Neville.
“But, sir. I’ve …” His eyes slid towards Roderick.
“No matter, I will take care of that. However…may I suggest that you do give me whatever it is you have for Professor O’Malley? It will be in safe hands.”
Neville had to make a decision and decision-making wasn’t his strongest point. He watched as Severus waited patiently, and from somewhere he felt his mother’s presence. Reaching into his robes he pulled forth the photograph and handed it to the teacher.
“My gran sent it. It’s of my mum. There’s writing on the back.”
Severus quickly flipped over the image and read the writing. His eyebrow rose ever so slightly and he flicked his black eyes at Neville.
“Thank you,” he breathed and Neville felt the world shift. Never would he have thought that that man would thank him for anything. “What he said” – he nodded to Roderick – “… about Maeve…”
Severus frowned.
“It wasn’t right. She wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I don’t know why but I think she would rather be with you.” Neville gulped rapidly and, pocketing his wand, he turned away and left the Potions master contemplating the boy. As Severus watched him round the corner he couldn’t help but turn his attention back to Rampton, who was lying prone on the floor.
He bent down to the prostrate man and, without a trace of concern, looked into his anguished eyes.
“I want you to confirm one thing for me, Rampton. Does Drooble’s gum prevent the injury caused by Carduus Amara and the Somnus Funestus vapour?”
With a flick of his wand, Severus freed Roderick’s upper body from the binding spell.
There was a vague movement from the man’s head, which could have been a nod or it could have been a spasm caused by the very effective spell that Neville had cast.
“Speak!” Severus commanded.
“Yes,” Roderick croaked. “Yes it does. Please…. let me be…”
“You will leave Hogwarts, Rampton. I do not want you within the same walls as Maeve or myself. Do not think that because the Dark Lord favours you with the occasional word of praise that you are something special to him. He will kill you in an instant if he felt you were in any way duplicitous…and I believe you are.”
“Severus.”
His name swirled around the walls and made him look up from Roderick’s stricken figure.
“Professor Dumbledore,” he said as he drew himself up.
“Let him be now, Severus.”
“How long have you…”
“Long enough. It was a kindness you showed Neville, one I thought I would never see.”
“He used his initiative, for once.” Severus could not help the note of admiration that crept into his voice but he quickly disguised it with a dry cough.
“I almost feel sorry for Mr Rampton,” Dumbledore said as he approached them, gliding softly through the torchlight. “You knew all along about Rampton?”
“I knew about his father,” Severus replied.
“Perhaps I do not ask you enough questions, Severus,” Dumbledore said regretfully. “Perhaps I have been mistaken in trusting you but not trusting you far enough.” A look of worry passed across his face. “Perhaps the time was right to give you the post you so desire, but there would have been consequences. Perhaps my own reservations were not enough.”
“We would not have had Professor O’Malley had you done that,” Severus said evenly. “Without her…” he didn’t finish the sentence.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore responded. “One cannot underestimate the power of a single human being to change the course of another. You must cement that relationship Severus. Only a fool could lose her now.”
Severus looked embarrassed to be discussing this with the headmaster and he turned his attention back to Roderick.
“We know the antidote to the Dark Lord’s latest weapon,” he said flatly. “I need Maeve to help me extract its secrets.”
“I cannot replace her,” came the reply. “Remus Lupin left for France this morning and he is the only one who could take her place at such short notice.”
“Why did he leave?” Severus asked, unable to disguise the note of interest.
“He needs to find a different path. I have tried to help him by keeping him close when I should have sent him out a long time ago. I know your views on werewolves, Severus, but Remus is a sound man. I may have been wrong in forcing him into a false relationship with Maeve. That may have caused his current problems.”
“And what are they?” Severus couldn’t help the flash of triumph.
“He couldn’t help his changing feelings. Remus is, in many ways, a simple man. He requires love and companionship. You would not understand that, Severus, because you require so much more. Maeve is a constant challenge to you and in that respect you are in step with each other. Remus wanted something that would not have made him happy. Maeve’s restless nature would have contrasted with his own and caused them both misery.” He watched as the dark man preened under the implied praise and he sighed. “Perhaps I could arrange something. It would not take you long if you worked at it together, would it?”
“Not at all,” Severus replied. “I would work my own classes round the task and Maeve could continue alone when I was not available. We need to work rapidly now that we know there is an antidote.”
“I understand,” Dumbledore said. With one last look at Roderick he dismissed Severus and summoned Madam Pomfrey to deal with the wounded Auror. He would need to deal with the unpleasant fact that Roderick had not been as honest as Dumbledore would have liked him to be. He mused regretfully on his ability to either trust too little or trust too much…and he prayed that he would one day find a happy medium.
“How could this happen?” The hiss slithered through the air and rested in the eager ears of Bellatrix Black and Peter Pettigrew. “You told me that Meany was one of the best, impervious to capture and yet–” he gave a dry laugh “– he is captured.”
“I don’t know what happened, Master,” Bella said in her most wheedling tone. It was the wrong tactic because Voldemort couldn’t stand whining, even from his most favoured follower.
“Enough!” he said, whipping round and almost causing Peter to fall back against the luxurious drapery that covered the windows. “You are failing me in every respect. We neglected to capitalise on capturing the werewolf and in turn failed to apprehend the woman. And now we have lost one of our spies within Hogwarts. That leaves us with just one option within the school walls and I do not know how reliable he will prove to be. His loyalty is to a dead man, not to me.”
“With respect, Master,” Peter said in a quivering voice. “I think he is doing an excellent job. He was well placed to report back on activities within Dumbledore’s stronghold.”
“Oh, be quiet. What would you know about Hogwarts? It has been years since you were there. That man could be up to any manner of deceptions.” Voldemort took up a commanding position by the fire and felt its uncomfortable heat scratch at his skin. “I am tiring of these constant barbs. I want the Vapour ready for a wide scale attack by the end of the week. At least the one person I can rely on is in charge of that aspect of the operation.”
Bellatrix visibly bridled at the suggestion that Lucius Malfoy was the one person Voldemort could reply upon. She was tempted to remind him just how Lucius had got along whilst Voldemort was struggling through his disembodied years and she had been entombed in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy had been enjoying the best life had to offer as he drank with his friends in comfortable gentlemen’s clubs, collecting more money and more accolades.
As Voldemort’s eyes scoured the room she forced any complaints to the back of her mind. Bellatrix had other things on her mind, namely Rodolphus and his sudden, inexplicable behaviour towards her. Normally quite a vibrant character that participated eagerly in her excruciating schemes, he had now become sullen and withdrawn, preferring to spend time alone in their attic rooms than with her. Bellatrix knew that she was spending far more of her time in the exclusive company of the Dark Lord, but then, who wouldn’t? She watched with undisguised admiration as he paced the room, his eyes roaming restlessly around as Peter twitched nervously by the window. But Rodolphus could cause trouble if he was suitably provoked. He had always been something of a fool, running with her on her chosen path because he liked the thrill of it without the responsibility. Without her, she knew, he was nothing and yet he still had the power of a husband over a wife.
She continued to follow Voldemort around the room with her eyes and regretted her hasty marriage. What could have been achieved, she pondered aimlessly, if I had waited? What could I have achieved with that man by my side instead of the feckless Rodolphus? Bitter regret taunted her for a few moments as she allowed herself the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. It did not last long. Voldemort stopped his pacing and he filled the room with his belligerence as he turned to Peter and ordered him to scour the forest and find the body of the werewolf. Peter looked suitably horrified at this task and was about to protest but he felt his silver hand throb with warning and scurried out into the night with little more than a lit wand for company.
“Bella!” The word was a harsh embrace that stroked her ego and soothed her fears about Rodolphus. “I think it is time we returned to England. I am tiring of allowing others to do my work for me. I want to bring down this woman and prepare to deal with Potter. You mentioned the coward, Snape, would be an option and now that the werewolf appears to have failed I think we may need to pursue that route. Meany, before his inopportune capture, mentioned they had been sneaking around that fetid lake together at Hogwarts. I think perhaps he has a fondness for the woman, foolish man. I understand now why she evaded my grip the first time and it will not happen again. I shall watch her die myself.”
“Forgive me, Master, but I rather thought Niall was looking forward to that particular pleasure.”
Voldemort cast a cold eye on her and grinned, the tightness in his face turned it into a frightful leer and Bella melted.
“Would you deny me the pleasure, my dearest?”
Bella forgot Rodolphus, she forgot their cause and she forgot the pleasure caused by pain. She mired herself in the delight that had been caused by the word dearest and simpered under his scrutiny.
“Of course not, Master. Your pleasure is my own.”
“Then let us prepare to leave, there will be no need for others to know where we are going. Accompany me now, Bella and your immortality will be secured.”
She dipped her head and felt her haggard cheeks grow warm with a feeling she had never known. He brushed past her as he left the room and she felt his odour on her robes. Bella had always been intoxicated by the smell of evil and here it was in its purest form.
Lucius stirred in the cavern he had chosen for his living space. It was high and wide, supported by the very rock of the earth and lit by wax candles that guttered in the occasional waft of stale air. His bed was not up to his usual standard and he found it difficult to sleep. He longed for the airy rooms of Malfoy Mansion and the wide four-poster he occasionally shared with Narcissa. But his discomfort was assuaged by the fact they were almost ready to launch the first large consignment of vapour onto a waiting world. This would assure his place within Voldemort’s inner circle and give him more of the power that he so desired. Perhaps, when this was finished and Draco had left that restrictive education that Narcissa had inflicted upon him, father and son could become united under the Dark Lord.
Meanwhile back at Hogwarts, beneath a star-speckled sky, Maeve had a late night meeting with Severus. He sat close to her on the edge of the lake as the Kraken and the Giant Squid twisted in an intricate, liquid dance. He allowed his robes to encompass them both as he showed her the image that Neville had given to him earlier. She flipped it over and read the words.
‘Frank and Alice, Rampton Court, 1980. Note the blue flowers!”
“Is this true?” she asked sadly. Severus had not told her about his earlier encounter with Roderick. It would have involved too much detail and he didn’t want her to know what Rampton had really thought about her. “Could Alice have known? This raises too many questions, Severus.” The image of Alice in her pretty, flower-print dress had made her heart sink. In the background she could just make out the electric-blue sway of the Carduus Amara plant. Clearly this had been taken before they had realised the damage the spores could do.
“Alice could have been on to something,” Severus admitted. “But we can do nothing until the morning. It is getting cold and I think we need to go inside.”
The daffodils tight heads bobbed in the night breeze and Maeve felt, for the first time, the shiver of the darkness.
“Your cloak is so much warmer than mine,” she laughed, as they stood up and she felt the black cloth fall away from her, leaving her exposed.
Without thinking Severus had slipped it from his shoulders and placed it around her own. He stood in the pale chill of the lateness, wearing only his shirt and trousers, but it didn’t matter. As they walked back to the darkened school he felt the pull of her. As she prepared to walk away from him towards her own staircase he laid a hand on her arm and prevented the escape.
“I was a little hasty when I left this morning,” he confessed, in stilted tones. “I…I enjoyed your company.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Perhaps you could forego your own bed for one more night?”
“I could,” she said. Maeve felt a warmth flood her body as she anticipated what was to come. “But there will be conditions.”
“And they would be?”
“I’m not sleeping alone.”
Severus felt the sweet release of relief, which was short-lived as her pale face was suddenly flung into the light by the end of a lit wand. They sought the source and found the inquisitive face of Professor McGonagall standing a few feet away from them. She was on the point of saying something to the furtive duo, but the look of longing on Maeve’s face stopped her.
“Up late, Professors?” McGonagal said in hushed tones. “No doubt you are working on something important.”
To Severus’ dismay he saw Maeve’s face move in what he thought could have been a grin. He did not like being caught on the corridors like a naughty pupil and the superior expression that sat on Professor McGonagall’s face suggested that she knew exactly what they had been planning.
“That’s right, Professor,” he replied tightly, trying to balance Maeve’s threatened giggle with a more serious attitude. “There has been a small advance in our work with the Sleepers.”
“Yes,” Maeve spluttered, finding humour in Severus’ discomfort. “There has been a definite advance in the Sleeping arrangements.”
Professor McGonagall looked at her archly before quickly extinguishing her wand. She couldn’t bear the excruciating embarrassment of Severus’ face any longer and she bade them a swift goodnight before hurrying up the stairs towards her room.
Severus gave Maeve a violent look of disapproval before stalking off towards his subterranean rooms with her tripping after him, still holding tight to her laughter. His rooms were exactly as she remembered them from the morning and she walked through to the bedroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. With a flick of her wand she brought her night things down from her room in a flurry of excitement and Severus made himself useful by pouring them a glass of Firewhiskey in his sitting room, as he too got ready for bed. When she was safely ensconced in bed he returned and again Maeve had to stifle a laugh.
“What are you wearing?” she asked, looking at his grey flannel night robes with morbid fascination. “Are they supposed to be that shade of grey?”
He looked embarrassed again as he glanced down at the rather old robes. Granted they had been laundered a few too many times but he didn’t think they were that bad. He took pride in his outer clothing but had never seen the point of worrying too much about underwear. No one ever got to see it, after all.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asked, but as his eyes rested on the now familiar sight of her pristine, silken robes he knew exactly what was wrong with them.
“For the love of Merlin, take them off and burn them.” She threw back the covers and as he glimpsed a flash of bare flesh he lost no hurry in doing exactly as she instructed.
Their limbs lay entwined together in peaceful sleep as the fire died down to smouldering embers and the wind softened. Finding comfort in each other they had no idea of the plans that formulated across the water and they slept on, unaware that their potential undoing was making its way ever closer.