It was silent as a tomb in the Hall now, yet only
a few hours ago it had been a hive of activity. Harry, Ron and Fred
had portkeyed back from the Isle of Man and were met by a battery of
questions from everyone who had been awaiting their return. Sirius,
Remus and their teams had already reported back with their findings,
which turned out to be a whole lot of nothing really after
everything was sifted through. After a quick debriefing session the
gathered resistance members scattered in all directions, their
purpose renewed by the events of the past week. They all had jobs to
do. All except for Harry, Ron and Fred who had been shooed in the
direction of their cots by Padma, like chicks being swept along by
the wings of a mother hen. Harry was supposed to be on watch with
her tonight but she'd sent him to bed with a smack on the arse, deaf
to his tired objections about her standing the shift alone.
She was sitting by the fireplace listening to the
cracking and popping of the wood as it blazed away in the grate, her
gaze unfocused and her thoughts on the tasks ahead of them. She
really hoped that whatever Snape had up his sleeve worked. They
could certainly use more bodies in the resistance, especially ones
used to moving in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. It was hard
to wage a war against the Voldemort Regime when most people were
afraid to step a foot out of place. She was sick of the fear
permeating every single person in her life. She wanted to live in a
house by the sea--she wanted children and she wanted the simple
luxury of being able to walk hand-in-hand down the street with Harry
in the daytime. Was that asking too much?
When the fire suddenly flared green she
straightened up, her wand drawn and ready as she waited to see who
came through. Damn! Suddenly, as adrenalin flooded her system, a
part of her wished she hadn't sent Harry to bed. She was very
relieved to see the slight, friendly form of Colin Creevey stepping
through the hearth.
"Damn you, Colin, my heart's in my throat!" she
chastised, shaking a fist at him in mock anger.
"I'm sorry, Padma." he apologized. The slightly
built Gryffindor had been working--and all sorts of odd hours at
that--for The Prophet since he'd left Hogwarts after completing his
O.W.L.s. He'd been kept on at the paper after the wars even though
he was Muggleborn because good photographers were hard to find in
the wizarding world these days and Voldemort had a propaganda
machine to keep well oiled. There had been so many deaths during the
war and on top of that quite a few of the unfortunate survivors had
been shipped off to Azkaban and placed in cells that had, until the
past year, housed Death Eaters convicted of crimes under the old
Ministry.
Colin was one of the few exceptions to the rule,
but it was due to the fact he wasn't very threatening and acted
submissively, even to the point of letting them take his wand away
from him so it appeared as if he wasn't much better than a squib. He
was kicking boy at the paper for the those in the pocket of the
Death Eaters, and was treated no better than a house elf by them. He
allowed himself to be vilified and under-appreciated, all the while
keeping his ears open for any little tidbit of gossip or news that
might be of help to the resistance. They were careful about what
they said around him for the most part but sometimes they'd forget
he was there and mention something interesting.
"I've developed my most recent batch of pictures
and thought you'd like to go through them. I've been watching every
move of the Malfoys since Harry asked me to last week."
"Anything interesting?" Harry asked from the
archway as he raised his hands to his face to stifle a yawn. Padma
glared at him. If he was lucky, he'd gotten all of about an hour of
shut-eye.
"What are you doing up? I thought I told you to
get some sleep." She watched a cheeky smile curl on the lips of her
betrothed and knew what was coming next. She rolled her eyes.
"Well I got some sleep so you can't really
whinge about it now, can you, love? And anyway, I don't like the
idea of you being on watch by yourself... just that thought alone is
enough to make me too worried to shut my eyes. Besides, it was
lonely without you lying on the cot next to mine." Padma smiled and
shook her head as Harry came and embraced her from behind so he
could kiss her cheek. He sat down next to her at the table and took
her hand in his own. He was chilled and she automatically began
rubbing some warmth into his fingers with her own. "Creevey, what
brings you here at this ungodly hour?"
"I thought you and the missus might be interested
in seeing the slides of my summer holidays at Blackpool, Harry."
Colin replied flippantly. Harry cracked a tired smile.
"Well, why didn't you say so? Pull up a chair."
Colin dug in the pockets of his robe and set a
small, flat, wooden case on the table between them as he sat down.
He undid the clasp and opened the lid, before turning it around
sliding the whole thing in front of Harry and Padma. Harry reached
in, lifted the photographs out of their nest and looked at each one
carefully, setting them back in the box--one at a time--when he was
finished with them. He stopped all of a sudden when his eyes lit
upon the most interesting scene of Draco Malfoy blasting the heads
off the denizens of the statuary garden at Malfoy Manor, a furious
look obliterating his coldly handsome features.
"Well, well, what's all this then?" Padma leaned
in for a closer look as Harry mused aloud. He studied the angry face
of his schooldays nemesis trying to read him.
"Oh, I wonder what he was doing? I wish
photographs could talk the way portraits can." Padma sighed
wistfully, curious as to what had inspired this spectacle. At her
comment, a large grin spread over Colin's face.
"Ask him a question." he told her. She looked up
at him as if he were pulling her leg. "I'm serious, go ahead and try
it."
"Okay…" Padma still wasn’t sure if he was joking.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?"
"Getting rid of some pent up aggression, what's
it to you?" The voice was thin and watery but unmistakably the
snippy, clipped tones of Draco Malfoy.
"Sweet Merlin, Colin! How'd you get it to do
that?" Harry was impressed.
"A new developing potion I came up with, coupled
with a new enchantment for the camera that traps the thoughts and
emotions of the subject at that very moment in the image. This is
the first set of pictures I've done using the process. I wasn't sure
it'd work until I developed them and I just had to come straight
over to show you."
"Colin Creevey, you're a bloody genius. I could
kiss you!" Padma exclaimed excitedly and the young man sitting
across from her blushed to the roots of his hair.
"But she won't, will you love?" Harry was smiling
as he spoke.
"Well, not while you're in the room, anyway."
Padma teased him before asking another question of the snapshot.
"Why are you angry, Draco?"
"My bloody father still treats me like I'm a
child, no matter how I show him otherwise. I'm expected to do
everything he tells me without even batting an eyelid. I'm sick to
death of it!" The platinum-blonde, paper doppelganger raged in
its thin, fluting voice. "She is mine. I have first claim and
that bastard knows it. He had no right to give her to Snape!"
They watched as he blew another head off a statue and Harry and
Padma shot each other a look across the photograph.
"Who did he give to Snape, Draco?" She was pretty
sure they all knew the answer to that question.
"My mudblood whore, Hermione Granger. Now sod
off, I'm busy." The young man in the photo turned his back to
them and resumed his task of obliterating the ever-reappearing heads
of the statues as the picture looped back on itself.
Severus Snape was sitting behind the desk in the
Headmaster's Office in the darkness. He'd been staring at the moon
through the window for close to an hour. The tingling in his hands
had started after he'd activated the potion he'd rubbed into Miss
Granger. He smiled at the thought of her. For someone who 'knew' her
as extensively as he did now, he still thought of her in a
surprisingly formal way. He held up his hands in front of his face
and flexed them, checking for anything out of the ordinary. You were
supposed to wash your hands before activating the potion and he
hadn't had the opportunity to do so. He wondered if there would be
any side effects from using the potion in a way it had never been
tested for and stared at his wand, which he'd set on the desk in
front of him when he sat down. There was only one step left to
complete the spell and he was hesitating. What if it didn't work
after all? It wasn't like him to second guess himself. He was
surprised by the soft rustling of feathers that let him know Fawkes
had made a move. He glanced up to find the phoenix looking down at
him from its perch on the high back of the chair he was sitting in,
head cocked as if asking a question.
"Hello, old boy." Snape turned in his seat and
raised his slender fingers to stroke the phoenix's neck. "Due for a
burning day soon, are we?" he asked as he took in the sorry state of
the bird's plumage. He looked even worse than he had at the
beginning of the week. The phoenix bobbed as if in agreement. "It's
been a long time. It might do you the world of good. What I wouldn't
give for a burning day of my own…" He trailed off, surprised at how
wistful he'd sounded and shook his head. Now was not the time to get
maudlin. He pushed the chair out and stood up, sweeping the wand
into his hand as he maneuvered around the desk and stalked out of
the office with renewed purpose.
Ten minutes later he stood alone on the ramparts
of the Astronomy Tower, the wind whipping his hair into his face and
tangling his cloak around his ankles. At almost 4 AM it was far past
the time any rogue students would be dallying here. His fingers
curled and uncurled around the wand in his pocket. "Come on, Severus,
what are you waiting for?" he muttered out loud. He tightened his
grip and drew the wand, closing his eyes and pointing the tip at his
temple.
"Claro."
He hissed as he experienced his mind
sharpening--he hadn't expected it to feel that way. He stood for a
few seconds with his eyes closed, getting used to the sensation of
the spell clearing a space in his mind. He opened his eyes to the
sound of beating wings and was surprised to see Fawkes landing on
the crenellated wall next to him. "Come for the show, have we?"
Severus asked. The phoenix cocked his head in the same way he had
before. "Right then." He pointed the tip of the wand to the centre
of his forehead.
"Conspicio Hermione." Severus intoned and as he
did he was astonished and uplifted by Fawkes, who had begun to sing
as he spoke the words to complete the spell.

Severus and Fawkes
Hermione Granger sat bolt upright on her mattress
clutching her heart. She'd been having a nightmare, or at least she
thought she had. Something didn't feel right. She thought about it
for a moment, trying to put a finger on it, and suddenly it came to
her. She was filled with an unrelenting yearning to leave this
place. She didn't belong here. She wanted to go home. But where was
home? She didn't belong in the Muggle world anymore, and where could
she go in this Wizarding world where she'd be safe from the long
reach of the Malfoys? She swallowed down the fear she had nowhere to
go. It was better not to dwell on it. She thought about the evening
with Professor Snape and raised both hands to rub her face
vigorously. She hoped she'd read his intentions correctly. Could
this feeling be an effect of the potion? A potion she didn't think
had ever been used this way before. It was like he'd planted a
homing device on her--for lack of a better description--one that
made her listless.
She looked across the small room to Lavender's
bed and frowned. It was empty. She hadn't returned yet and it had to
be about four in the morning. Sometimes they were kept out all
night. Other times it was because they were too hurt to be moved and
had to be healed where they lay. She hoped it wasn't the latter in
this case. "Shit!" Hermione swore in a whisper, worry creeping into
her veins. Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep again she wrapped
the quilt around herself and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest
as she stared at the locked door.
Bill Weasley was burning the midnight oil in his
office at the Cairo branch of Gringotts Bank. He'd just gotten back
from a hairy little expedition into Turkey, where he'd appropriated
some interesting artifacts that had been unearthed at a Muggle
archaeological dig. The naďve fools had no clue how dangerous the
things they'd dug up truly were. No clue at all. It amazed him
sometimes. He shook his head and picked up his cup of potent Turkish
coffee, raising it to his lips and grimacing at the taste. He loved
it, but every time he drank a cup of the stuff he felt like he was
being smacked in the head by the equivalent of a caffeinated bludger.
He had a feeling he'd need another cup before the night was through,
though. The containment wards he needed to erect for tonight's
knick-knacks and baubles were difficult and draining to cast and he
couldn't go home until they were done.
A scratching sound at the window alerted him to
the presence of an owl. He unlatched the shutter and a small,
nondescript brown owl swept past him to land on the back of one of
his chairs. A closer look and he realized it was a stealth owl.
"Well, hello there." He greeted and reached out
to scratch at the feathers on the bird's crown. "Do you have
something for me?" The owl blinked at him, right eye first and then
the left. "I guess you'll need something to eat before you go home."
He offered his left over take-out to the bird and sat down to read
the letter.
Bill,
It's been a while. Something's come up and we
find ourselves needing a man with your talents. Though I can't talk
about it in this letter, I can promise you it won't be boring. On
the contrary, it'll be dangerous--right up your alley. Are you up
for it?
Let us know,
Ron
P.S. Everyone says hello, especially that git,
Fred.
Hmmm… If that wasn't an enticement, he didn't
know what was. Danger, excitement, and chance to see everyone again.
He did have a few holidays coming to him and after he was done
tonight, the boss would understand if he needed a couple of days to
recuperate. He scribbled out his reply on a fresh piece of parchment
and after tying the scroll to the birds leg, he sent it on it's way
before returning to his work.