“This is a beautiful place, Roderick. I recognise your sense of the theatrical in the décor.” Maeve looked around her new surroundings with what was mostly approval, although his use of birds as a motif, as ever, made her slightly uneasy. From the outside, the flats had looked unprepossessing, being dirt-coloured, of some age and converted from a Victorian warehouse. Inside, however, it was clear money had been spent on only the most up-to-date fixtures and fittings. She had headed straight for the large window in the sitting room and was rewarded with a view over the Thames that framed similar warehouse developments on the opposite bank.
The sombre, grey river was ruffled by a stiff breeze and only a few pleasure cruisers had braved the waters, bobbing past cheerfully despite the cold. She turned as Draco entered the sitting room and watched him crumple on the crimson sofa. He had been remarkably pliant on their journey back to the flat, as if near death had righted something in his brain. Whether any improvements had been made to his memory remained to be seen, but for now she was happy that he was calm enough not to cause problems.
“A recent acquisition on my part,” Roderick said from the doorway. “I got it at a knock down rent from a friend. Made a few tweaks, obviously. Can’t be doing with too much Magnolia “ what kind of statement is Magnolia in a modern world. Care for a drink?”
“A friend indeed?” she asked, knowing full well who that friend was likely to be. There were definite benefits to having a friend who was active in the Muggle world of property. “I’ll have a coffee, please, and then I need to get a message to Severus.”
“He’ll have no idea you have been through the wars,” he replied, “so no need to bother him. He might be provoked into doing something rash if he thought you had been in deepest peril. You know how protective he can be.”
“All the same, he should know. If Remus contacted him after your owl he’ll be worried.”
“It’s you that’s worrying yourself unnecessarily. Severus will be busy doing whatever it is he is planning to do. We’ll put our feet up here, have a cocktail, maybe a bit of music and then I’ll see what’s to be done about this Ministry business.” He gave her a jaunty smile and headed for the kitchen.
“How do we know that this is safe?” she called through, glancing at the prone figure of Draco. “Does your friend have any protection?”
“My friend is the protection,” he called back. “As long as she doesn’t know I have you as a house guest then we shall be as safe as untraceable houses. “ There was a clatter of cups and a rush of water as he filled the kettle. “As a matter of fact I might pay her a little visit later, just to get the gen on what’s been going on at the Ministry. She’s in favour, you know, so she might have a bit of power now.”
Maeve left Draco curling up against a cushion and followed Roderick into the kitchen. He was fluttering around making himself useful with his Muggle contraptions and she wondered at the fact that he liked Muggle things so much. She had a feeling that he would happily settle here even if it had been a normal house acquired using normal means, away from the complications of wizardry.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, pouring hot water into a large glass jug containing ground coffee and then clicking thee lid in place.
“Better now that I know I was of some use to somebody.” She leant against the glamorous marble worktop and braced herself for another lecture regarding what had happened on the train.
“You were rash. I can only imagine what the black gloom will have to say when he finds out. It was tricky back there. I like danger a little more than the next man, but there are limits. Snape will go bonkers with you.” He words were light, but the look on his face was deadly serious.
“How’s he going to find out? He doesn’t even know I was on that train; probably doesn’t even know there was a train crash. And doesn’t it feel right to have helped someone. That girl will have a mother to watch her grow up. There’s a lot of people that can’t say that anymore with the coming war.”
“You have a pure heart, my lovely, it’s what I have always adored about you, but the war’s not coming; it’s very much here. Now, cake or a Hob Nob?”
“Ridiculous man,” she said and took the packet of Hob Nobs that he was waving in the air.
Padding back into the lounge, she dropped the biscuits on the table and picked up a throw from one of the chairs, covering the now-sleeping Draco with it. In the corner of the room was the usual large television that the Muggles seemed unable to live without and to one side of it a very expensive piece of Muggle technology that she thought was a music player, but it was so advanced it could have controlled a whole orchestra let alone a radio station.
Roderick arrived with the coffee and flicked some music on, low and classical, the strings of a violin moved the air. He handed her a mug and opened the biscuits, fanning them out on a plate. Sitting in the opposite chair he watched her sip her drink and then smiled.
“I never thought I would be so involved with someone ever again, without actually being involved with them, if you take my meaning. It bothers me sometimes.” He was uncharacteristically solemn, dark eyes sombre in their intensity. “You’re a nightmare. I can see why Snape is driven to distraction.”
“Not sure if that was complimentary. But as you aren’t being flippant I shall take it as a sign of affection.” She nibbled at a biscuit. “What are we doing, Roderick. I know you had some sort of plan, but what are we really doing? Draco is brain-addled, Ron is still missing; there’s a Horcrux to be sorted out by Harry, who is officially dead but not dead; Ministry is gone; Severus is between a huge rock and a very hard place. I’m not sure that you having a chat with the Fitzwilliam woman is going to be any sort of help.” A rare flash of utter despair flitted across her face. “How can we turn it all around?”
“Hey, not like you to be so despondent. I’m not having it. Things look particularly nasty right now, I shall not deny that, but there’s always light to chase away the pesky darkness. You’ll see that in the morning. And Jenny won’t let me down “ we want similar things.”
“Perhaps,” she said doubtfully, but inside she felt as low as she had ever felt, sitting in this Muggle flat, eating Muggle food, and waiting for the next disaster to befall them.
Remus was fuming with an intensity he hadn’t thought possible. They had spent a good half an hour searching for the missing members of their party before the Owl arrived. At first he had found it difficult to believe that Maeve would have just left him like that again, going off with a badly disturbed boy and a lunatic of debatable loyalty, but he knew really that anything was possible under the current circumstances. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she had disappeared with Rampton, flitting off without a decent explanation. So here he was, looking after what amounted to three children, albeit teenage children, one of whom mustn’t be seen under any circumstances. He wasn’t a man naturally given to complaining about his lot, but if he had had a friendly ear he would have complained very loudly indeed.
And now here they were, huddled together in the centre of a dense, damp wood beneath a canvas tent looking at each other in stunned silence. A tent hadn’t been the original plan. The original plan had been an old Order safe house in Trumpington, a safe house that they had found to be no longer safe judging by the open roof and shattered windows when they arrived on its doorstep. Plan B wasn’t really to anyone’s satisfaction, but it was all they had temporarily. Paranoia settled itself beside them as they bounced worried glances off each other.
“It’s just not like her though, is it? I mean, I know that Professor Rampton is one of her friends, but so are we. We were supposed to stick together.” Hermione was rationalising aloud, much to the irritation of the other three. “Are we supposed to just disappear, all of us, with Ron still missing and Harry out of action?”
“We’re cut off,” said Remus flatly. “We can’t do anything because we have to protect Harry, so we just get our heads down and out of the way for a few days. It’s all we can do.” Remus hated having to say the words, hated having to be the baby-sitter, hated leaving his wife in Hogsmeade, hated everything about everything when he was so impotent.
“I can hide on my own,” Harry said. “You don’t have to hide with me. Hermione, you could go to the Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys and Neville could go back to ““
“I’m not going back anywhere. I’m just as much on Voldemort’s list of victims as you are, Harry, so forget it. I’m staying with you.”
“And I’m not about to sit this out at the Burrow,” Hermione chorused. “I’ve not been with you all of these years just to let you go off on your own.”
“No one is leaving anyone.” Remus allowed his weariness to permeate his words. “Can we just sleep for now and we’ll head North tomorrow, away from all of this activity.”
“What exactly was in the message?” Neville asked, as if hearing it again would make more sense of it.
“All it said,” Remus began, “was Gone on a slight detour. Catch up with you in the North. Don’t worry about us. Roderick, Maeve and Draco.. Ridiculous.”
“What was that?” Harry asked. Everyone in the tent froze, fearful that without magical protection they were very much exposed.
“Probably an animal,” Hermione said, as if trying to convince herself more than anyone else, “or the wind.”
“Or a Death Eater,” Neville added darkly.
“I’ll go and have a look,” Remus offered, drawing his wand and pulling back the tent flap.
“We’ll go together.” Neville was suddenly by his side and looking as brave as he could manage given the natural tendency of his face to look exactly the opposite of fierce. “You can’t go alone.”
The wind whipped the tent flap as Remus and Neville crawled out, leaving Harry and Hermione unnerved and alone. Without thinking Hermione reached for Harry’s hand, squeezing it for comfort as the other two circled the tent. There was a barked order from Remus at someone to stand still, followed by a rush of footsteps in the undergrowth. Hermione released Harry’s hand and they both went for their wands, jumping to their feet in unison.
“You can’t go out,” she said, holding him back.
Several emotions crossed Harry’s face, not least consternation as he realised that Hermione was right and he would have to obey this particular restriction or he would be putting all of them at risk.
“I don’t believe it!” Neville’s shout broke the tension. “How did you find us?”
“Get inside the tent.” Remus issued a terse order and Hermione relaxed a little once it became clear that whoever was outside wasn’t an immediate threat. The flap moved again to allow Neville to clamber back inside followed by the very familiar, if battle-weary, face of Tonks.
Silence reigned for a few minutes as everyone took in the new arrival and then a barrage of questions burst forth. Tonks was staring at Harry, shaking her head in pleasurable disbelief.
“We didn’t know for sure,” she said. “News is starting to leak that you are dead and it can only be a matter of time, now that the Ministry is in his hands, before the whole wizarding world is told. He must be absolutely dying to tell everyone that he has been victorious.”
“How did you find us?” Remus asked, worried that if Tonks could find them then so could any number of people.
“I’ve been following you since you left the place you were holed up in. I’ve always known roughly where you are, Remus, so it was just a matter of tracking you when you were out in the open again. Once you settled on this spot I thought I’d better make my presence known. You need help,” she said, nodding to him. “You can’t be responsible for both Harry and Neville on your own.”
“You saw the others leave us?” Neville joined the conversation.
“Yes, that Roderick is a devil. But I think I understand why Maeve went. She just wants to be near her husband, bless. Anyway, brought you some food too. “She dropped her bag on the floor and opened it up. “Thought you might be a bit hungry.”
If they hadn’t thought they were hungry before, the sight of the food that Tonks now pulled from her enchanted bag made them realise that they were famished. Piles of cooked chicken, layer on layer of sandwiches, pork pies, bottles of fizzy pop, packets of crisps and cakes poured forth followed by plates and glasses. The final concession to comfort was several picnic blankets and a couple of thermos flasks filled with tea.
“You were a sight for sore eyes before, but this makes you even more of a miracle,” Remus said, as the others sat down on the blankets to tuck in to the impromptu feast. He placed a grateful hand on her shoulder and she turned to smile at him.
“Glad to be of some help!” she grinned. “Now, you’d better fill me in on what’s been happening. The Order are rallying the resistance movement and we need something positive to tell them.”
Roderick had been gone for hours. It was now almost ten o’clock and there was still no sign of him. Draco was tucked up in one of the guest bedrooms, a virginal-white room that had escaped Roderick’s paint brush. He had slipped between the sheets fully clothed and was instantly comforted by sleep. Maeve, meanwhile, had spent her time well, prowling the flat from kitchen to hallway with no intention of resting. Once or twice she had almost switched in the TV, but knew that she didn’t really want to face much reality.
She had closed the blinds as a precaution, occasionally popping her head around them to look at the dancing lights on the river. Her imagination had grown increasingly bored and was busy creating several scenarios for Severus, some involved a late night at the Ministry deep in concentration as he tried to gain access to the upper echelons, some had a taint of the nightmare about them and involved him facing Voldemort, but most of them involved her being in some way re-united with him and it was these scenarios that she tried to focus her imagination on. The flat was quiet given its location in the middle of a major city and there wasn’t even a ticking clock to impose a monotony on the disturbing silence.
The sound of the front door opening made her jump, despite the fact that she was fully expecting it. Roderick called to her from the hallway, a jovial hello, brightened by the smallest hint of alcohol.
“Back, my lovely. Have you managed all by yourself?” He came in, unfurled his cloak from his shoulders and sat rather heavily on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him as a direct invitation for her to sit.
She did so with a little reluctance; there was nothing worse than being anxious and sober when one’s companion had been softened by wine.
“So?” she asked.
“So, I have had a spot of dinner with the lady in question and I have so much to tell that I almost don’t know where to begin.” He grinned, a big, shark-like expression that meant he was somewhat pleased with his evening’s work. “I also think I might have got myself a job.”
Maeve listened with increasing amazement as he told her about the new Minister for Magic, about the new regime sweeping the ministry, and about the re-calling of the Death Eaters. She was dismayed at the news that so many trains had been attacked, but relieved that they personally had not been the target of their own incident. She was stunned when he informed her that the new Minister had gone on to offer him not just a job at Hogwarts, but the job at Hogwarts.
“Why would she do that?” Maeve asked, beginning to feel that she would quite like a glass of wine herself.
“Not sure yet. It’s quite the prestigious appointment, you know. There will be lots of other candidates, natch, but she knows I want something from her so she can be quite secure that I will be easily controlled. Hogwarts may be in pieces, but it still carries plenty of weight in the hearts of wizards. I have already secured a nice tasty budget to do the place up again. I might get rid of the Gothic touches and bring a little style to the place.” He waved his arms in the air, as if imaging the scope of his modifications to the ancient building.
“I suppose there is some sense in it,” she conceded, still not quite able to picture him lording it up in her former school. “Doubt there are many people left there to trouble you into any actual teaching either.”
It was a pointed remark and he looked distinctly pricked by it. “I can teach, you know, and be a role model of sorts for young people. There was a time you liked having me around at Hogwarts. Perhaps you would prefer the likes of Greyback instructing the young minds that will form our futures.”
“Sorry,” she said, having the good grace to look at her feet with slight shame. He was right. The world was moving quickly and if Hogwarts was to survive the current coup by the Death Eaters and be fit to nurture young witches and wizards then it would need a head with vision and charisma, someone with get up and go that hadn’t got up and gone to serve Voldemort.
“Anyway, all of that aside, there is something else you should know about.” He hadn’t been entirely sure how she would take the information about Severus. On the one hand it was quite a feat of infiltration on the blackness’ part, but on the other hand she was his wife, and a supreme example of a natural born worrier.
“Has she been in touch with Severus?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He was overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze.
“Well?”
“Shall I get you a drink,” he asked, abruptly standing and breaking the moment. “I think we should have a drink.”
She watched as he wafted away into the kitchen, her imagination no longer bored but equally as busy. He returned a moment later with two glasses and an opened bottle of very cold Sauvignon Blanc. Only when he had placed a full glass in her hand did he announce her husband’s new title.
“Minister for what?” She spluttered as she put her glass down abruptly.
“Peace.”
“Minister for Peace when we are in the middle of a bloody war? What does that title mean?”
“Think irony, my darling, think irony and think what Voldemort would use to bring about his own particular brand of peace.” He cocked his head to one side and watched as realisation crossed her face.
“The Death Eaters? Severus is Minister in charge of the Death Eaters.” She was too shocked to feel anything in particular.
“Yes, hence the sudden application of a rather short leash. He’s gathering his thoughts, I should imagine, that and trying to stop the immediate killings at the very least. The Muggle Minister is up in arms at the devastation wreaked on their world. Meanwhile, Jenny believes that Voldemort is a little giddy, what with the Ministry now being under his control and the death of Potter, and therefore distracted. Being charitable, one could say that he is gloating a little at his success. Perfect time to drive home our plans, don’t you think.”
Her glass reclaimed, she thought about this and realised that they had no real plans. Roderick’s new information merely gave them a window of opportunity. It did not tell them what to do with the window. Only one person could give them a plan, and he was now secure in the Ministry and she dare not risk contacting him there.
“I know this will be difficult and we are without a means of achieving our ends at present,” Roderick said, with a moment of insight born from spending a good deal of time with her. “But I should think that a visit to Hogwarts could be arranged for the new Minister. After all, it will require protecting as we rebuild and I will require his assurance that I can have some Death Eaters to do the protecting. If you also happened to be there then voila! An opportunity presents itself.”
“Are you suggesting that I hide in plain sight?”
“That’s exactly what I am suggesting. Well,” he gave her a sly wink, “perhaps not fully in plain sight. Perhaps hidden just a little bit where you won’t be seen too much by anyone.”
“And Draco?” It was all too easy to forget the damaged Draco, hanging like a shackle at their feet.
“I propose that we take him with us. You can look after him for now. What’s that dreadful place called on the way to Hogsmeade, that shack place?” He clicked his fingers as if trying to magic the name out of the ether.
“The Shrieking Shack.” Her eyes widened a little at the very thought of the place that had seen her fight with a Horcrux.
“That’s the one. No one goes there, do they? Perfect.”
“There’s a reason that no one goes there,” she said. “Werewolves aside, it’s a dump.”
“Oh, a few charms will make the place neat and tidy in no time. We’ll get some protection on it. Simple.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not dwelling on the Horcrux incident, are you. Better to get back on the horse after an experience like that. The Shack is just a building, nothing more. There are no more Horcruxes lurking in its walls waiting for you to come back so they can bite.”
And that, she realised, was that, for she didn’t have an argument against the Shrieking Shack beyond the obvious cobwebs and general dilapidation of the place. They were headed north again, as they had originally intended, but with not quite the same destination in mind. It didn’t solve the problem of Harry and the others, for certainly they could not take Harry to Hogwarts, but it did mean they would be safe and they could re-draw their plan of battle.
“What happened to Professor McGonagall?” she asked, remembering the last time she had seen the increasingly frail teacher.
“I believe that she is still there. Jenny will issue the memo in the morning advising the staff left there and the Prophet of the new situation. Rather neat, isn’t it? In the meantime we should get some rest, have a light breakfast in the morning and prepare to leave.”
“That won’t take too long as I haven’t got anything to take with me. My belongings were on the train so I literally have the things I’m wearing.”
Roderick clapped his hands together. “Excellent, my dear, excellent. A touch of shopping before we leave tomorrow will be just dandy. I’ve got a toothbrush and some pyjamas you can borrow for tonight.”
So she brushed her teeth with a borrowed brush and slipped into the second guest room with a pair of Roderick’s red silk pyjamas over one arm. Another day, another bed, she thought as she climbed into it and tried her best to doze off. Counting beds rather than counting sheep would have been far more beneficial given the number she had slept in recently, and with that final thought she drifted away into unconsciousness.