"Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!" the little house-elf tutted in concern. Milly
was working on healing the angry purple bruises circling Lavender's
throat and neck when the door to the room opened and Hermione was
ushered through. Both the blonde girl and the house-elf were
surprised that Hermione was able to enter the room without the aid
of a Death Eater lackey using a mobilus corpus spell. As the bolt
was shot home behind her, Hermione walked over to where they sat.
"Oh, honey, who happened to you tonight?" she asked gently,
brushing her room-mate's hair back from her shoulders to get a
better look as she sat down on the end of the bed.
"Draco happened," Lavender rasped through bruised vocal cords,
"he was extremely pissed off because you weren't available, the
huffy little git!" At her words, the effects of the Imperius swept
over her and she shuddered.
"I'm sorry, Lavender."
"Don't be. It's not your fault he's so bloody twisted and
volatile… and if he hadn't taken it out on me, it would have been
one of the other girls." Another shudder wracked her body and as she
fought it down she took the time to study Hermione more closely.
"But what about you? You haven't a mark on you for a change and you
look like the cat who stole the cream."
"I do?" Hermione asked, a half-smile colouring her voice.
Lavender nodded. "Well, I doubt you'll believe me, but I had a very
interesting evening entertaining a reluctant guest," Lavender cocked
a questioning eyebrow and Hermione continued, "our former Potions
professor."
"Snape?!? Professor Snape?!?" Lavender's damaged voice cracked
with disbelief as she jerked away from Milly's ministrations in
shock. "The greasy git who made our lives miserable for all those
years? That Professor Snape?"
"Do you know any other? And anyway, don't sound so
flabbergasted." Hermione had expected this reaction. "I'll have you
know he was very gentle and a gentleman to boot, not like the
others…" she trailed off, not wishing to follow that train of
thought. "I guess they don't tell him everything that goes on,
though."
"And why is that?" Lavender was still trying to get her mind
around what she'd just been told and failing miserably.
"When I took the mask off that Malfoy Sr. made me wear he was
totally spooked and just about had a heart attack. He thought I was
dead."
"I guess they all do. It would go a long way to explaining why
we're still here."
"I suppose it does. Of course, we don't even know where here is,
so how can we expect anyone else to. And Snape said he'd no idea
where he was either." Hermione answered, stifling a yawn as she
stood up and started peeling off the velvet costume, carelessly
kicking the pieces into the corner by her bed.
"But why would a Death Eater not know about this place? Do you
believe him?" Lavender asked as Hermione pulled down the sheets and
crawled under the covers.
"After everything that happened tonight, I'm inclined to.
Goodnight, Lavender."
"G'night, Hermione."
Lavender
Snape was so tired he had almost stumbled over the threshold to
his suite of rooms at Hogwarts. He realized what time it was as dawn
began to break and the first pale threads of sunlight filtered in
through the window. Thank the gods it was Sunday today and he'd be
able to catch a couple of hours of sleep before he'd have to start
into everything. Yawning, he strode across the room to pull the
heavy curtains shut and stopped in his tracks as the view called to
mind the one he had seen last night out the window of the brothel.
The thought reminded him that he hadn't been doing his job. He
hadn't even been aware of the place, which was unforgivable for a
spy. Much as he was loath to admit it, he needed to be in the
company of Death Eaters more often than in his capacity as
Headmaster of Hogwarts and Voldemort's pet potions master. All
notion of sleep, no matter how welcome, was driven from his mind,
but one thing was for certain--he wasn't going anywhere until he
washed and changed. He walked over to the night table beside his
four-poster and opened it, fishing around inside until his fingers
came into contact with the vial that signified a Wit Sharpening
Potion. Cracking open the seal somewhat carelessly, he quickly
downed the contents, grimacing so completely at the taste that his
wisdom teeth shone in the morning light. He waited for a few moments
until the potion took effect, brushing off the cobwebs that had been
gathering in his tired mind, before going through his routine
post-revel ablutions, which mostly consisted of standing under a
scalding hot shower and trying to burn all traces of the night's
atrocities from his skin.
Harry hadn't slept well at all. He had tossed and turned all
night, worrying about the Headmaster and wondering if he'd done the
right thing by asking him to go to the revel. He sat up in his cot
and covered a large yawn with both his hands before casting about in
the dark for his glasses. As he wiped the sleep from his eyes under
the weight of his glasses, he swung his feet off the side of the cot
and sighed. He had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.
The resistance headquarters was a series of rooms and tunnels
hewn out of the rock magically, some metres below the windswept
Yorkshire countryside. It was unplottable and heavily warded and
only a select few knew of its existence and even fewer knew its
location. The usual way in or out was via portkey but there was also
one well-guarded fireplace in the complex that was linked to a very
small, private floo network only known to the same resistance
members who knew of the portkeys. The two dozen operatives who lived
here were well hidden and as safe as galleons at Gringotts here, but
sometimes the place was as oppressive as a prison or tomb. Other
smaller resistance cells were scattered throughout the country in
places where the Death Eaters were unlikely to look or suspect
Harry decided he needed a soak and made his way to where an
underground heated spring bubbled up through the rock in the centre
of the compound. He stripped off his clothes and sank gratefully
into the water, feeling the warmth of the mineral spring permeate
right down to his bones, a rare sigh of contentment escaping him as
he laid his head back to rest on the smooth rock at the edge of the
spring and closed his eyes.
This was how Ron found him twenty minutes later. "Oi, you, what
do you think you're doing?" The thin, lanky red-head asked, his
voice carrying the edge of a smile. "Padma wants to know if you're
going to come and eat something."
"Well, as long as it's her turn to cook and not yours, I guess
you can let her know I'll be there in a minute." Harry answered
flippantly.
"And just what's wrong with my cooking?" Ron asked, folding his
arms across his chest and drawing himself up tall and straight in an
unconscious parody of their old potions teacher.
"You mean what's right with your cooking. You've never been
subjected to Muggle school dinners have you?"
"Nope, can't say that I have." Ron answered, knowing where this
familiar objection of Harry's was leading.
"Your cooking is on par with the worst primary school meal I've
ever had, rogue earwigs in the boiled cabbage and potato sacking in
the powdered mashed potatoes in P7 not withstanding." Harry was
grinning as Ron picked up his clothes and threw them unceremoniously
at the young man who used to be known with quite a bit of awed
reverence as 'The Boy Who Lived."
"Get dressed will you, you stupid git!" he commanded, having a
hard time disguising a self-deprecating laugh as he turned on his
heel and returned to the room they'd dubbed the Hall--a place laid
out in a miniature copy of the Hogwarts Great Hall of their youth,
right down to the charmed ceiling that reflected the sky outside.
Harry sighed and stepped out of the spring, struggling to pull
dry clothes over sopping wet skin. He thought the only thing wrong
with this whole resistance scenario was the fact Hermione, who had
been their best friend since first form, wasn't there to share it
with them and hadn't been with them for the last six months. God, he
missed her brains and her insight. He missed having her around as
the voice of reason when they were about to go haring off on some
mission or another. He sighed and shook his head and when he was
finally able to get his clothes on he made his way to the Hall.
Harry
When Harry arrived, he found Padma shoveling a ladle full of food
onto the plate set in front of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, while Ron
sat across from him with his arms folded across his chest and a
frown on his face.
"Headmaster," he acknowledged as he sat down.
"Potter." Snape responded, with a curt nod as he spooned a few
mouthfuls into his face. Harry could tell from the way he was
holding himself that the headmaster was exhausted. He thanked Padma
as she ladled some of the food into the bowl in front of him.
"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Harry commented as he
stirred the stew, chasing a carrot around in the broth with his
spoon.
"I wasn't expecting to have to come so soon," Snape answered
without looking up, "but there were some developments I thought you
should be made aware of as soon as possible."
"Such as?"
"Who else have you had keeping tabs on Death Eater activities?"
Snape asked, instead of elaborating.
"What kind of activities are we talking about here?" Harry wished
he'd just get to the point.
"What they're doing in their leisure time, specifically."
"Creevy's been keeping track of that sort of stuff, and I don't
think he's turned up much at all." Harry answered with a shrug.
"Even though he's been working as a photographer for the Prophet,
they don't trust him much because he's a Gryffindor. He hasn't been
able to attend anything but the most 'official' functions at the
Ministry and such. He's mostly reported a lot of smaller comings and
goings from Malfoy Manor. It's not like he can get inside the gates
to get a closer look, so he's been using his zoom lens to capture
images of people as they cross the threshold."
"Has anyone reported anything untoward or unexplained?" Snape
asked before eating another spoonful. The way the Headmaster was
asking questions was troubling Harry a bit. He seemed like he was a
man who'd just woken from a coma he'd been in for years and was
desperate for information.
"Padma's the one who sorts and organizes all the information.
She's the one with the eidetic memory." Ron spoke up and Snape
turned to look at the Ravenclaw girl who had joined the resistance
the day the free wizarding world and her sister had died.
"Miss Patil?"
"What exactly are you looking for, sir?" she asked, sitting down
at the table.
"Can you recall the names of the fallen during the war?" Padma
nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with this. "Of the bodies
that were not recovered and of whom no trace could be found, what
percentage were Muggle-born?" Padma closed her eyes for a moment as
she mentally compiled a list.
"About ninety percent of them." she finally answered. Snape
nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.
"Has anyone reported information on brothels or other such
establishments?"
"Where are you going with this, Headmaster, and what has this got
to do with last night's revel?" Harry asked impatiently before Padma
could reply. Snape turned and looked at Harry, his measured gaze
boring darkly into him.
"I was taken via Floo Network from Malfoy Manor to such an
establishment, last night." Snape replied. "I had no idea such a
place existed. My wand was taken from me and I was locked in a room
with a prostitute."
"Gods, Snape, do you have to subject us to a blow-by-blow account
of your sex life?" Ron asked, looking positively green at the
thought.
"I can assure you, Mr. Weasley, you are the last person I wish to
have this discussion with, but this is indeed important." Ron rolled
his eyes and Harry motioned for the Headmaster to continue. "As I
was saying, I was locked in a room with a prostitute. I did not want
to be there, in fact, I was very suspicious of the whole thing and
thought it might be a trap of some sort as the girl was masked so I
could not see her face. This is also not one of your run-of-the-mill
whore houses. It is a very high class operation, one, I suspect,
created for the exclusive use of the upper echelons of the Dark
Lord's sycophants." Snape's thoughts turned inwards and he didn't
say anything for a moment or two.
"And?" Harry prompted.
"The prostitutes there are controlled by the Imperius Curse,
courtesy of the Malfoys, Mr. Potter."
"That's just despicable!" Padma exclaimed. Harry and Ron had
paled at the revelation, knowing from the look on his face that
Snape wasn't finished.
"And that's not the worst of it, Miss Patil, not at all." Snape's
voice had taken on a tone that reminded them of a razor blade
sheathed in velvet and they dreaded what he would say next.
"Does this have something to do with the question you asked Padma
a few minutes ago?" Harry asked, his horrified mind suddenly putting
two and two together. Snape nodded.
"The girl who entertained me last night was none other than
Hermione Granger."
"You lying bastard!" Ron yelled, as he stood up and grabbed the
front of the Headmaster's robes. Snape met his eyes and Ron felt the
anger leech out of him. He could tell by the look on the man's tired
face that he was telling the truth and released his grip on the
folds of material he had wadded in his fist.
"I'm not lying Mr. Weasley. Apparently, Miss Granger is not the
only girl there. The majority of the prostitutes are Muggleborn, but
there are a few purebloods there as well, strictly as a form of
punishment from what I understand."
"How could you?" Ron asked, his voice filled with emotion. "How
could you put her through that?" Harry sat silently, stricken at the
news the Headmaster had brought.
"I had no choice, Mr. Weasley." Snape rubbed his face with his
hands and sighed. "If she had disobeyed Lucius Malfoy's
instructions, she'd have been crippled with the pain and as it was,
she was masked and anonymous for the first part of the evening… and
I was in the wolf's den, I had to be careful and do what they
expected of me." He was silent for a moment before adding, "For what
little it's worth, I was gentle with her, not like her usual
customers, from what I understand." He looked up at Padma to see she
was crying silently, tears leaking down her face as her shoulders
shook. Harry stood up and moved to kneel beside her and comfort her.
"It's okay, love, shhh…" he told her as he rubbed her back. He
looked up at Snape, his green eyes serious and angry. "We've got to
free them."
"That's all well and good, Mr. Potter, but I have absolutely no
idea where this place is, other than it is built on the edge of a
cliff overlooking the sea. And there's a number of guards too. Even
if I knew where it was, we wouldn't be able to just waltz in and
free them."
"Well, you're just going to have to find an excuse to go back for
another visit then, aren't you." Snape raised an eyebrow as he
realized Harry wasn't kidding.
Ron