Protego
I lean against the wall, both my and Potter's wand clutched in my fist, my arms crossed lest the slight tremor of my hands becomes obvious.
'Where is your strength now, Potter? Crucio!'
The boy tries to dodge. In vain. One can retain only so much agility after the long minutes of torture that seem to last forever even to me. He grasps at thin air, his face distorted.
'Where are your defenders? Crucio!'
I clench my teeth, inexplicably feeling as if I was the true object of the curses hurled around the room in the past quarter of an hour. The Dark Lord lowers the wand and slowly approaches the boy, who is gasping on the floor uncontrollably.
'Even as we speak, Potter, my Death Eaters are finishing off the remnants of your allies. Those who survive this night will learn of their hero's fate in the morning. Tell me, boy,' the black-robed figure leans over Potter, whose face is almost blank, eyes appearing empty as they stare past the enemy. I have seen such looks on people's faces before, usually not long before they would leave this world – one way or another. By the enemy's hand or by their own.
'How does it feel to die knowing that your death brings an end to everything that some great men and women fought and died for, and lays the beginning for another greatness, much more terrible than anyone can imagine?'
I close my eyes, trying to keep track of time. In several minutes the majority of the Death Eaters should become trapped, provided that the Order were not foolish enough to discard my warning. Gambling almost everything on the trust of others. Who would have thought I would ever consider such a… Dumbledore thing to do. The plan is far too imperfect. Far too many assumptions of the nature of others, which I may have learned already to be too fickle to be counted upon. Yet this is the only way. Had Potter not barged into my house yesterday, I would soon find myself on the battlefield fighting alongside the Dark Lord, and very quick to fall. If I know anything at all about the Order, given the certain events, many of them would rather finish me off before doing anything else. So I would have to battle them to death – or allow them to kill me. Not yet. However much I would relish being relieved of my life, it is not up to me to decide whether I am free to leave. There are debts to be paid. And every day of my life, I feel as if I have barely begun.
A change in the Dark Lord's voice catches my attention, and I curse myself for this uncalled-for wallowing in self-pity, now of all times.
'Ever since you escaped our last meeting, Potter,' he hisses, his voice lowered, 'I had wanted to let you die slowly, so you could fully appreciate your foolishness for daring to place yourself in my way. However…'
The Dark Lord steps back, lifting his wand, and at this very moment I am filled with the kind of dread I had not experienced for many years now. The dread at the knowledge, at the complete confidence in the fact that something is about to go horribly wrong, and there is nothing, nothing that can be done about it.
'I have thought long about this meeting, Potter, and I realized something. In order to close the circle, to seal the fate you have been running from all your life, our last meeting should match our first exactly. This, I believe, is a good likeness: those who could have died for you, have died already, just as they have before, and you have been delivered to me by the hand of my faithful servant, whom I doubted, yet who had proven his loyalty by the ultimate betrayal - just as before.'
I know what is about to happen. I have seen this happening dozens, hundreds, thousands of times, when I would wake up with a scream, with an unanswered plea, with a name on my lips.
The wand stops rising and points directly at Potter. The boy seems to be transfixed. The Dark Lord smiles.
'Avada Kedavra!'
I step forward, for the first time in my thousand dreams able to move, to speak, to act. Just as a green jet of light appears at the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, I shout 'Protego!', pointing both of the wands in my hand at Potter.
Protego? Protego?? some part of me screams. You brain-addled fool, no Shield can save one from a Killing Curse, and you have just doomed both yourself and the boy! What, what on earth stopped you from shouting the very same words he just uttered, and hope that your curse is faster?
The knowledge that no matter what I would throw at the murderer now, it would not save the boy. Why the Shield then? Because that is what I would shout in my dream, inexplicably, only to find myself voiceless.
Equally inexplicably, the dark figure staggers back. It would be too much to hope for the rebound to be sufficiently deadly, but the boy is alive. Alive and back to his senses, his face no longer the mask of hopelessness I was loathing minutes ago. I find myself under the stare of two pairs of eyes: dazzling green and livid red.
'So…' the Dark Lord hisses, and his voice seems to be carried over to the dark corner nearest to me. Not needing to look to know what is about to strike, I point my own wand at the Dark Lord, shouting 'Impedimenta!' in a desperate attempt to win a split second of time, and throwing Potter's wand overarm to the boy. His fingers close on it just as I feel the bone-crushing embrace of Nagini.
She winds herself up my body until her head is level with my face.
'Kill the traitor, Nagini,' the Dark Lord speaks, his eyes narrowed, his face distorted in a smile that makes it even less human, if possible. I have no time to be surprised at the order being given in human speech, nor the strength to hold on to the wand as my right arm is crushed, the pain of what feels like a broken bone almost irrelevant. A heartbeat before the strike, I manage to throw my left arm up in a pointless attempt to delay the inevitable. The last thing my mind registers before the snake's fangs pierce my flesh, is that the Dark Lord's attention seems to be entirely on me this moment, devouring the sight greedily. Now, Potter. Now!
I collapse, my mangled shoulder no longer an obstacle, and watch almost calmly as Nagini's jaws, now red with my blood, prepare to close on my neck.
'SEVERUS!' I hear someone shout from the middle of the room, the voice clearly bordering on insanity. The next moment, the snake's head flies away from the body, as if slashed by the sharpest blade in existence. Non-verbal Sectumsempra, my mind registers. Brilliant and pointless. There is a flash of red light, and a cold voice says, 'Stupefy'. Another flash, and I see and hear no more.
I wake up to the smell of blood and impossibly, revoltingly sweet perfume.
'Snivellus…' a female voice sneers. Only one woman had ever called me that… consistently. No wonder I feel like vomiting.
'Bella.'
I open my eyes, only to find her face a few inches from mine. Inexplicably, I am reminded of my encounter with Nagini.
'I knew. I always knew,' she whispers, her voice trembling with what appears to be utter jubilance.
'I always told the Dark Lord that you were not to be trusted, that you were nothing but a lowly traitor, a coward whose only talent was lying his way up to those with the power, and now he can finally see how right I was!'
'Such devotion.' I remark with a smile. 'It is rather tragic, that he had never listened to you, is it not, Bella?'
Her features horribly distorted, she slaps me across the face with all her might, causing me to fall over on my right side, on the definitely broken arm. I swallow a groan of pain, looking up to the woman who is now towering over me, her hair frazzled, her dress burned in several places. By the look of it, she has just escaped a battle, and very narrowly at that. However inappropriate it may be at this moment, I feel a note of satisfaction: they did heed the warning, which means that at least someone did not fail completely tonight.
She points her wand at me, looking well beyond the insanity horizon and reminding me of old engravings of she-demons in ancient tomes I would smuggle out of the Restricted section of the library in my school years. We would have made an impressive tableau: her, with hair flying around her head like an evil halo and eyes burning with hatred beyond anything I had ever seen or felt, and me, lying at her feet with no means of defending myself except sarcasm. I cannot help but smirk at my own thoughts. Indeed, one's mind can work in truly puzzling ways. Bellatrix, in her typical egocentric fashion, takes my expression on her account.
'Believe me, Snape,' she hisses, appearing as if she is about to abandon her wand and resort to more physical violence, 'there is nothing I want more right now than to make you pay for every single thing you have done, and feed you every word your filthy half-blood mouth has uttered against me or any other truly noble family whose boots you are not fit to clean!'
'Why, Bella,' I reply, 'never in my life have I had less trouble believing you than now. Not that this is the first time I hear you expressing these sentiments.'
'Do you know, then, why I have never given you what you richly deserve?'
'Do tell.'
'I wanted you to reveal your true nature, and suffer the consequences as befits a traitor and a half-blood such as yourself – and serve as a lesson to everyone who would ever consider betraying the Dark Lord or placing their trust in a lowly creature like you!'
'So what you are saying, Bella,' I speak with as much hauteur as I can muster with the pain in the arm slowly yet steadily becoming less and less bearable,' is that you have never pressed the matter until I would be so kind as to provide solid enough evidence. You were deliberately biding your time, waiting for my betrayal to become apparent, permitting me to leak the information on the Dark Lord to the other side and allowing Potter escape again and again…'
I pause, letting my words sink in and using the opportunity to take a breath.
'I am convinced that the Dark Lord will be truly thrilled to find out that you have been jeopardizing the outcome of the entire war for the sake of your personal triumph. I cannot tell a lie, Bella – never have I seen such a dazzling display of loyalty.'
At this moment, I am almost entirely convinced that she is going to throw her theatric vengeance plans to the winds and kill me. Her wand held like a dagger, she kneels next to me.
'Maybe you're right, Snivelly…' she whispers. 'But I don't think that you will be able to talk your way out of it this time. However, we can't be too safe. I can always say that you were killed in an escape attempt. The Dark Lord will be unhappy, yes, but at least he will still have Potter to suffer enough for the both of you.'
She touches my left arm with the tip of her wand, pressing down hard. Something in my face must have changed just enough to tell her of the pain, as she bares her lips in a smile.
'Not feeling well, are you, Severus?' with her wand, she tugs at the bite holes in my sleeve, now hard with dried blood, while her hand turns my head so I could see the burning welts on my shoulder.
'See these little bite marks left by our Lord's pet? He knitted your wounds so you would not die of blood loss... before time. However, I may just be believed if I say that your desperate attempts to free yourself have ruptured this little bandage. Tragic. Foolish. You bled to death, and when I came in, it was, regretfully, too late…' She smiles again, the wand point directly over the wounds now.
'Diffin-'
'Bella!'
Her head snaps around to the blonde woman that has just burst into the room. Narcissa Malfoy looks but a shadow of her old self, as if it was not Bella, but her who has spent all those years in Azkaban. She gapes at the scene, open-mouthed.
'Bella, I want to know what is going on here, right now!'
'Well, Cissy, I thought you were already aware of the situation,' the darker woman replies, standing up. I let myself slump on the floor, as if barely conscious, while taking care to watch the two women carefully.
'I heard shouts, and sounds of a battle…'
'But did not dare to venture from your boudoir, where you must have huddled, clutching your precious son to yourself,' Bellatrix sneers scornfully. 'Battle, Cissy, battle is now taking place outside, and now that the Dark Lord has joined it, it is but a matter of time before the enemy is crushed.'
'He had to join the battle? I thought it was going to be an easy victory?'
'It appears that we have been sabotaged, sister. And I am certain that the Dark Lord will punish the one responsible in a fitting way.'
Narcissa's gaze switches to me, and it seems that only now recognition dawns.
'SNAPE?'
Bellatrix laughs.
'What have I told you, sister? But have you listened? You came running to him for help, you pleaded with him, you confided in the traitor! Who would have thought that you believed in the better nature of people, you of all people, born Black and married to Lucius!'
'Lucius!' Narcissa gasps. 'Where is he?'
'Where he should be, where the rest of you should be – fighting at the Dark Lord's side. He was battling three Aurors the last I saw him.'
'For someone who is not in the fray, you speak loudly, sister!' Narcissa snaps, but her face has become even paler, if at all possible. Bella's sallow cheeks flush.
'I would be, sister, oh yes I would. Yet I am here to watch the prisoners, on our Lord's orders. He does not trust anyone else to deal with them. Both of them are far too important.'
'Both?..' the blonde woman looks around the room, and by her widened eyes I can easily tell where Potter must be, blissfully unconscious. I block any thoughts of the boy, and shut out the insistent whisper in my ear: (He saved your life.) You made him trust you. (He saved your life.) You have failed him. (He saved your life.) You have failed her. Again.
I shift ever so slightly to inflict more pain in my arm, in the hope that it overshadows the thoughts. The women, fortunately, pay me no heed.
'Bella, what happened? One moment everyone leaves on a mission destined to succeed and not to worry about, the next – the Dark Lord has to join them, by the look of it having battled with… Snape and Potter?'
'Don't ask me, sister,' Bella snarls. 'They were here when I Apparated to warn the Dark Lord…'
I watch Narcissa's face carefully from my prone position. Thoughts are moving very quickly under her ivory skin. She sighs softly, taking her sister's hand.
'I am sorry, Bella. I worry about Lucius. And you.'
'Since when do you care about me, Narcissa?' the darker woman smirks.
'Whether you remember it or not, Bella, you remain my sister, and one of the precious few relatives I have left'.
'It took you a while to realize that, sister,' Bellatrix drips the last word with acid, but her face softens a fraction.
'I am sorry, Bella, I truly am. I should have listened to you. I…' suddenly, Narcissa gives a great sob and throws her arms around Bella, who looks mildly disgusted. Intrigued beyond measure despite my predicament, I watch as the older sister extricates herself from the younger's grasp.
'Calm down, Cissy. And let go of me, I am scorched all over. Blasted Moody.'
'You need to lie down, Bella.'
'Are you mocking me, sister?' Bellatrix stares at Narcissa with disdain. 'I am under orders, even though the notion may seem unfamiliar to you!'
'Sit down, then, at least, you're falling on your feet. I'll get you something to drink,' Narcissa waves her wand, Summoning a chair from the other room, then walks out. Her sister sits down, flinching. I make no move, giving a realistic impression of having passed out on the pain.
Not daring to open my eyes anymore, I listen carefully to the clatter of Narcissa's heels on the floor, to the sound of glass, of wine being poured. After a few seconds, Bellatrix speaks, and I can hear the glee in her voice.
'Soon, very soon, the Dark Lord will be back. And the only thing I wonder is whether he first disposes of this traitor scum or of his precious charge. I, personally, would rather make Snivellus watch. Who would have thought that our dearest Snape had a heart. One would think it was long since floating in one of his beloved potion jars.'
She snorts, highly amused at her own joke. I wish, Bella. I wish.
'I still don't understand…' Narcissa speaks in a low, thoughtful voice.
'What?'
'It makes no sense. I have heard enough from Draco to know that Potter would be the last person in the world Severus would protect. He loathes the boy. He would be more than happy to see him dead.'
'You don't still believe his little story about not arranging for the boy's death simply for the fear of falling out of Dumbledore's favor, do you?'
'I don't know, Bella… It is not like him. He made Potter's life miserable for six years, much to Draco's delight. You wouldn't believe the stories I've heard. Six years of such meticulous acting, good enough to fool everyone… Snape's hatred of Potter is genuine. I would probably treat the brat the same, given the chance.'
'Well, Cissy, men are different from us. Take Lucius, for example…'
'Lucius is different, Bella!' Narcissa snaps, sounding flustered. 'He is hard on Draco, but he… loves him, in his own way.'
'Of course, of course…' Bella agrees mockingly. 'Now can you be quiet for a few minutes? My head… dizzy…'
She trails off, and I hear a tinkle of glass on the stone floor. No sound of surprise comes from Narcissa. I hear her footsteps approach me, a rustle of silk as she kneels next to me, a quiet voice,
'Mobilicorpus.'
I feel lifted in the air a few inches above the floor. Narcissa levitates me over to the wall and leans my back against it. I hear a muffled gasp as she lifts my head, seeing my face, hair and the front of my robes covered in blood, both mine and Nagini's.
'Aguamenti.'
A light stream of water is directed at my face. A few seconds later, I make an act of coming to my senses.
'You should not have bothered, Narcissa,' I cough, looking slightly unfocused. 'Your sister will not appreciate this, and to me, the difference is now immaterial. But still… thank you.'
'I owe you this much,' she mutters, looking uncomfortable and presenting a picture of the all too familiar to me feeling of doing something for some reason obscure even to oneself, yet somehow necessary.
I shake my head.
'No, Narcissa. You do not owe me anything.'
'Severus…'
'Narcissa,' I look at her sternly. 'You owe me either nothing, or more than this slight pain relief, however welcome it is. It is up to you.'
Yes, it is most dangerous to gamble on one's predictability being perpetual. And yet, it is my last card. Possibly. A few minutes ago I did not have even that. Who knows what may transpire later?
'What do you want me to do, Severus?' she looks at me pleadingly. 'I owe you my son's life. But anything you can ask me will only result in his death. Is this how you want me to repay you?'
'Narcissa…' I look at her as kindly as I can manage, which is neither something easily accomplished nor often attempted. 'I do not ask you for anything. You must have misinterpreted my words. I am sorry.'
'Sev… erus…' she stares. 'What happened to you?'
'Foolishness, that is all.'
'Tell me,' she looks at me intently, her hands squeezing my shoulders. Involuntarily, I wince as her fingers press against the broken arm, then shake my head reassuringly as she looks from my face to the shoulder.
'It's nothing.'
Predictably enough, she cuts my other sleeve open with Diffindo, frowns at what she sees and mutters Ferula… Sarcio…
The bone set and mended, she Repairs the sleeve. I shake my head, frowning.
'I could not be more grateful, but is this wise? Surely the Dark Lord would not approve of your actions.'
'Tell me what happened,' she demands, ignoring my warning.
'Very well. I suppose I owe you that much for your kind treatment.'
'Just tell me. I need to know,' she mutters, averting her eyes.
'Of course. It started simply enough, Narcissa. No later than several hours ago – at least, I suppose so, as I have no idea how long I have spent senseless – I had a most unexpected visitor at my house. Let me assure you that the visit was not nearly as pleasant a surprise as yours had been.'
She looks highly uncomfortable again. Paying no heed to the effect of my innocent remark, I continue.
'Just as I was getting ready to assume my post at the Dark Lord's side – you may remember that I was selected for guard duty tonight – none other but Potter smashes down my front door and attempts to duel me to the best of his highly limited ability. Needless to say, I Disarmed the boy, put a Body-Bind on him, and proceeded to deliver him to the Dark Lord, along with his wand, as I suspected that our Lord would be eager to examine it as his leisure, after all the trouble it had caused him.'
'But…'
'But this certainly does not explain my current position? Yes, Narcissa, I agree. A little patience.'
'Please continue,' her gaze on me is even more intent. I remain unperturbed.
'The Dark Lord, certainly, was most pleased by my… offering,' I let in a smirk in the corner of my mouth. 'Eager to repay Potter for every failure he had caused, he tortured the boy.'
'What did you do?'
'I remained on guard as ordered, of course. But I have made a great mistake, Narcissa,' I sigh gravely. 'I was so bold as to decide that Potter's wand was an irrelevant detail at that point, and could be presented to the Dark Lord after he had concluded his… business with Potter. However, I was mistaken, and gravely so.'
I look down, presenting my best expression of high reluctance, even torment that my next confession is causing me. No significant effort is required on my part, however. In any other circumstances, I would rather die than admit it. Especially in this particular fashion.
'The question may seem odd to you, Narcissa, but you must remember the werewolf, Lupin? He was at Hogwarts at the same time as we. A Gryffindor, of course.'
'What does he have to do with this?'
'Nobody knows it, especially now that Dumbledore is dead, but… I was almost killed by him once. He was already cursed when he came into Hogwarts, and, suspicious as to what he may be up to, I attempted to investigate… I do not pretend that to have been highly intelligent behavior on my part, but nevertheless… Another Gryffindorian, his friend and your relative, deliberately let slip in my presence where Lupin could be found during his regular absences. My inquisitive nature taking the best of me, I have fallen for this highly amusing prank, and almost walked in on the werewolf in his true form.'
'How did you survive?' Narcissa looks at me in horror.
'James Potter,' I spit, needing no pretense whatsoever to loathe the very sound of my voice. 'He had learned of the prank, and got cold feet, realizing the consequences their gang could be facing. He pulled me out at the last moment. He… saved my life.'
'I don't see how this would…'
'Isn't it obvious, Narcissa? I had a life debt! A life debt to Potter, and after he died - to his son! That is why I never attempted to kill him – for the knowledge that I would be simply unable to do it! I have researched the issue and found out that the bonds formed by life debts become stronger when passed over generations. I am highly fortunate to have never had children, for I shudder to think what kind of link might have formed between my child and Potter's. And tonight, when he burst in on me and attacked me, I had mistakenly believed that the very attack nullified my obligation, and delivered him to the Dark Lord, and observed as he sent the Killing Curse his way…'
'You interfered?'
'In a way. Against my will, I cast a Shield charm between him and the Dark Lord.'
'A Shield charm? Severus, this does not make any sense! No Shield can-'
'Potter's wand, Narcissa! It was still in my hand!' I throw my head back in frustration, ignoring the collision with the wall.
'Obviously, the Dark Lord believed me to be acting against him, and he set Nagini on me. Desperate to defend myself, I killed the snake, certainly not earning any more forgiveness with that act, even were any available.'
Narcissa is silent, examining my face.
'What will you do?'
I laugh mirthlessly.
'Do I have many options?'
'You could try…'
'Explaining myself to the Dark Lord? Narcissa, dear, have you taken leave of your senses? And even should you imagine a completely impossible probability in which the Dark Lord listens to me and believes my words, do you think he will have much use for a servant with a life debt to his greatest enemy?'
'Have you not paid it already?'
'Were I saving James Potter's life – possibly. In this situation, I do not know.'
The woman looks at me, then at the boy's lifeless form in the corner. I do not follow her gaze. I cannot afford to let in the whisper in my head again.
'Is he…'
'He must be alive. The Dark Lord would not let him die so easily after this.'
She nods thoughtfully, but I can see her thoughts are not about the matter between Potter and the Dark Lord.
'Tell me, Severus…' she finally speaks, every word weighed and measured, 'what would you do if you were free to leave?'
I look squarely into her light eyes, making sure that my voice is exactly as balanced as hers.
'The first thing I would do, Narcissa, would be making sure that whoever aided me in the escape, would be safe from the consequences. They, and whoever they hold dear.'
'Have you gone out of your mind, Mother?' I hear a drawling, arrogant voice, tinted ever so slightly with worry. I quickly step away from Potter, having checked his pulse and forehead. The boy appears to be in a deep faint that might have been expected as a result of a Stun preceded by prolonged torture. The heartbeat is even, however, if slowed, and no signs of delirium. The only thing out of norm is what would appear a minor skin irritation around the scar – the conditional, unfortunately, being the main problem. Nothing of what the boy had been subjected to during the last twenty-four hours to the best of my knowledge should have caused this. Damn.
I have just enough time to return to the wall where Narcissa left me when she went to fetch her son. She was kind enough to dispel my bonds, and thoughtful enough to collect both my and Potter's wands and take them with her. It is good to see that however clouded her judgment is, not without my aid, the basic precautions are observed.
When the woman enters the room, a tall, blonde boy is dragged by the hand behind her, wearing an expression of mild disgust.
'Mother, I don't know what you think you are doing, but…' he falls silent, noticing me just as I raise to my feet with slightly more pronounced effort than I would otherwise.
'Draco!' Narcissa hisses, nudging her son towards me. Predictably, he hesitates just long enough, and I am on my feet a few seconds before he is close enough to offer his reluctant help.
'Good evening, Draco,' I give him my best teacher look, fully aware of the extent of its bizarreness given the surroundings.
'Professor? What are you doing here?'
I arch an eyebrow barely noticeably.
'I mean… I'm rather surprised to see you…'
Narcissa waves the boy into silence, addressing me.
'We are ready, Severus. Are you strong enough to Apparate?'
'Certainly,' I reply, sounding much more confident than I feel. There is no choice, however. Of the three of us, I am the only one with the knowledge of our intended location and one I would trust to Apparate myself anywhere.
'My wand?' I proffer my hand to Narcissa, whose battle on this last threshold would be invisible to anyone with less face-reading skills than myself. She hands me both mine and Potter's wand, saving me the warning I was ready to present regarding the possession of the latter.
'Mobilicorpus', I pocket Potter's wand and point mine in the boy's direction. His body is lifted in the air and floats slowly towards the three of us.
'Severus…' Narcissa whispers, eying Potter as if he was something inexplicably revolting, like a cockroach or centipede. A sentiment all too familiar, indeed. Draco looks as if he is going to ask something again, his hand almost reaching for the wand. I shoot him a glance, which he correctly interprets as "keep your mouth shut".
'Shouldn't you… I mean… is it wise… I mean…' Narcissa fumbles with words. Who would have thought I could retain my power to intimidate even in my current sorry state? Inappropriate amusement hidden, I reply,
'Potter can be a valuable… leverage at this point, Narcissa.'
'Against… the Dark Lord?' she whispers in horror.
'The Dark Lord. Order of the Phoenix. Himself,' I shrug. 'I will judge on the circumstances. At this moment, my main advantage is what I know and others do not.'
'Wasn't it since your first year at Hogwarts?' she smiles a little sad smile.
'When you have very little, you learn to use it well,' I reciprocate her nostalgic expression. 'As I was saying, I am the only one who knows the full meaning of the situation I am in. Both Potter and the Dark Lord know only what they have seen – I have saved the boy's life.'
And the expression on Draco's smug face alone is worth saying that out loud.
'There is no reason why Potter should know of my little debt… Therefore, with minimum effort, I can create a believably melodramatic reason for saving his skin, and gamble on our little hero's nobility, even invoke the subject of his life debt to me,' I smirk. 'Equally, I can hand him over to the Order of the Phoenix, should any of them survive, and demand something in return – not protective custody, Merlin forbid, but at least the freedom to hand him over, walk away unscathed and remain so. Should both prove impossible for the reason of Potter being uncharacteristically perceptive of my motives and the Order utterly wiped out tonight, I can always lock Potter up in a Fidelius-protected place, myself the Secret Keeper, obviously.'
'You intend to protect him?'
'The knowledge of his whereabouts may be my only chance, should I ever be captured. You do remember, Narcissa, that the nature of a Fidelius charm is such that the Secret cannot be retrieved by any forceful means, up to and including Legilimency, memory charms or Veritaserum. I certainly do not intend to try and earn my way back into the Dark Lord's… grace. I would neither forgive nor believe myself in the circumstances, and we are both aware of how generous and forgiving I am in comparison to our Lord. However, I trust myself enough not to be willing to reveal Potter's location for anything except a full pardon and freedom, come torture or whatever else. I also trust the Dark Lord enough not to kill me while being fully aware of the impossibility to find Potter without my help. Should the torture be beyond my strength, I can always find a way out. Yet I will tell you no more. Our time grows short, and the sole reason I have told you what I have is so that should you ever be questioned, you could reveal everything you know without any hesitation.'
I look around the room, at the unconscious Bella in the chair, at Nagini's remains in a faraway corner. The only thing I regret at this moment is my inability to observe the Dark Lord's return. Very soon, someone is about to learn how to snivel.
'Hold on to my arms. And will someone grab Potter and try not to lose him on the way.'
I close my eyes and concentrate on my target. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.