A Night to Remember - Chapter Seven

The door to the room swung open at a quarter to seven in the morning. Hermione, who had finally dozed off with her head cradled on her quilt covered knees, woke with a start. Lavender was floated into the room by a Death Eater lackey using the Mobilicorpus spell. Milly, looking upset, hovered in the background waiting for the Death Eater to place Lavender on her bed and leave. It seemed like he was deliberately taking his time, enjoying the obvious discomfort of both Hermione and the little house-elf. When he finally left and the bolt shot home on the door behind him, Hermione leapt off her bed and knelt down on the floor beside Lavender's narrow bed. Using her hand she swept her friend's fringe back and placed a cool palm on the unconscious girl's forehead. She wasn't warm to the touch, on the contrary she was a little cool. Hermione studied Lavender's face. She had very dark circles--the result of heavy bruising--around her eyes, the kind you got from having your nose broken violently. Her friend's complexion wasn't very good either. It was just on the pink edge of grey. Without even thinking about it, Hermione lowered her fingers to rest on the pulse points of Lavender's neck. There was a pulse, albeit a little erratic and weak. What the Hell had they done to her?

Milly stepped forward and gently poked Hermione's shoulder to get her attention. "Please Miss, let me… they didn't let me touch her back in the other room. The mediwizard fixed the worst stuffs but Master was so very angry Milly couldn't get near to help. Milly too afraid of being killed and should iron her ears for it… please?" Hermione's head whipped around at Milly's words.

"Which Master?" she asked urgently as she grasped the stick-thin arm of the little elf.

"The really, really scary one…" Milly answered, her voice no more than a cracking whisper.

"Red eyes, slits for a nose and a slit for a mouth?" Hermione asked, praying silently the whole time. "That Master?" Milly nodded vehemently and Hermione tensed, even as she released her grip on the little one. This was not good. Not good at all. It seemed Lavender had been chosen as Voldemort's latest toy and here she'd been worrying all week that it would be her.

Tom Riddle had only visited the brothel once before, and the only person he'd seen then was Hannah--every other day for a week and a half until her death. It wasn't shaping up to be a good scenario if past behaviour was anything to go on. It meant that once Lavender was healed on Monday he'd be back and her treatment at his hands would get worse with each visit. She raised her hands to her face and swiped at the tears that were all of a sudden spilling from her eyes.

Snape was sitting in the teachers' box watching Slytherin take a long drawn out beating from Ravenclaw and listening to the chattering around him. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sinistra, now Head of Slytherin, had a wager going as to the final score and were animatedly bantering back and forth about it. He tried to block out their voices and pulled his robes tighter around himself to shut out the chill November air that was settling in his bones in spite of the warming charm he'd cast, but it was to no avail. He couldn't concentrate on the match at all. In fact, since he'd activated the potion last night, he couldn't think about much other than Miss Granger. He knew she was somewhere to the southwest of Hogwarts, but the pull was quite weak so she was some distance away. He found himself wishing someone would catch the snitch so the game would be finally be over and he could leave. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck out here well into the evening. He wanted to check in with the resistance to see if they'd found the brothel--they'd have scoured the whole coastline by now, right? He also needed to look in on Fawkes, whose egg he had left nestled in the depths of the fire blazing away in his rooms. The phoenix had burned up last night, right after the spell to find Miss Granger and his song had been completed. Severus had had to lunge to catch the metallic egg from out of the blowing ashes before it rolled off the top of the wall and over the side of the tower.

He looked out at the quiddich pitch again as wild cheering erupted and was happy to see the Slytherin seeker had caught the Snitch. But it wasn't enough to win the game, Ravenclaw still had them beat by forty points. Oh, well. Any other day he'd have been extremely pissed off, but not today--he had other things on his mind. One thing, really, if you thought about it and her name was Hermione Granger. He wove a path through the press of celebrating bodies and made his way down the wooden staircase to the field below. He'd check to see if Fawkes had hatched again before apparating to Yorkshire for an update.

Bill had arrived just as everyone still at the Headquarters was sitting down to eat supper. Ron pulled out an empty chair next to where he sat and gestured for his brother to sit down. Fred was walking along the tables, large pot floating next to him, as he dished out portions into the large bowls on the table. He stopped next to Bill. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked. Bill shook his head and Fred ladled a healthy helping of his best Scotch Broth into the bowl in front of him. "Well, you're really in luck then. It was Ron's turn to cook yesterday, but it's my turn today." Everyone laughed--even Bill, who had heard the stories--as Ron winced, insulted. He knew his cooking was terrible, they didn't have to rub it in on a daily basis.

"How's Mum doing?" he asked, diverting attention away from the running joke at his expense.

"She's tired, but her spirits are good. You know she can't be kept down for long." Bill answered through a welcome mouthful of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven and spread with fresh butter. The widowed matriarch of the Weasley clan was not in Britain. Molly was keeping a low profile in Malta, staying in a little cottage on the grounds of a holiday resort owned by a Muggleborn friend. She spent her days there knitting sweaters for the members of the resistance, among other things.

"How's George?" It was Fred's turn to ask the question, as he ladled soup out to the group sitting around the next table over.

"No change, but Mum refuses to give up hope."  George was also in Malta, but he was in a vegetative state thanks to a Spell Mine he'd tripped during the last few days of the war. There had been such a tangled mix of curses and hexes in the mine that they still weren't sure what had caused his injuries or why he wasn't responding to the ministrations of his mother, a very competent mediwitch in her own right . "She's been working with him every day." He stopped speaking and started to eat his soup, hoping the others would take the hint and lay off the inquisition for a while. He wanted to forget how drained his mother had actually looked when he'd stopped in to see her on his way here and he wanted to forget how small and fragile George had seemed lying in the bright room with his almost translucent skin and flame-red hair fanned out on the pillow around his face. He stole a glance around the Hall and took in the faces of those sitting around him. They all looked worn and tired too. He was guiltily thankful he worked as a specialist for Gringotts and that the war didn't really touch his life the way it did everyone else here.

"Mum sent a few parcels with me." Bill told them when he finally pushed the empty bowl away. He reached into the pocket of his leather bomber jacket and pulled out three small boxes. "This one's for everyone here." He handed the red one to Padma. "This one is for you and Fred." He dropped a blue box onto Ron's outstretched hand and clasped his fingers tightly around the remaining box. "How's Gin?" He asked.

"Bigger than Aragog and twice as scary… and safely stashed away out of harm's reach." Ron answered. "She says we're patronizing her by keeping her away from any sort of trouble, but she doesn't get that she's too far along to be out gallivanting with the rest of us."

"She's too young to be having a baby." Bill frowned at the thought.

"She's the same age Mum was when she had you." Fred pointed out. Both he and Ron had come to terms with Ginny's situation--Bill, however, had not. She was his youngest sibling and only sister, to boot.

"And just as stubborn as Mum, if not more so. What about Blaise?"

"He hightailed it when we told everyone you were coming." Harry informed him, grinning as he recalled the stricken look on the Slytherin's face. "He's scared you're going to hex him into next week."

 "I should, you know, just on principle. What the hell were they thinking? Bloody idiots!"

"They weren't thinking at all." Padma answered with a smile as she set the box he had given her on the table and restored it to its original size. As she lifted the lid to look inside she continued, "They were lost in the moment, Bill. It does happen. And Blaise turned his back on his family and peers who toe the Death Eater line. He's been cut off from his inheritance. He loves Ginny more than status and security--that should say something of his character--he really is a good person, you know."

"Circe help us. How can I argue with that?" Bill sighed and absently played with his earring. "Alright then, I'll go see them later and mend some fences."

Lavender's eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to see Hermione sitting on the floor next to her bed, head cradled on arms that stretched across the knees that were drawn up to her chest. She felt like hell. Even her hair hurt. The horrific memories of what had happened last night came flooding back and she couldn't contain the hitching sob that escaped her lips. Gods, she thought to herself as pain flooded through her, it even hurt to breathe. She watched as Hermione started and looked up at her, eyes bloodshot from crying.

"Why so glum?" she asked, in a raspy voice--raw from a night of screaming--that didn't understand she was trying to be brave and cheery. But the front wasn't just for Hermione, it was for herself. If she didn't put on a face and force herself to get on with things, she'd just curl up in a ball in the corner of the room and wish for death to take her.

"Oh, Lavender." Hermione sat up and reached out to take her hand. She didn't say anything more. She didn't need to and besides, words could never be enough for what she wanted to say to her friend. Their silent communion was interrupted by a rap on the door, signaling the dinner hour.

"Do you think you can sit up?" Hermione asked. Lavender nodded and levered herself upright with a hissing breath.

"Oh, sweet Merlin's beard! I feel like I've been hit by the Knight Bus."

"And I'm sure I look like it was parked on my face, what with the amount of crying I've done in the past twelve hours." Hermione replied with a sniff. Lavender laughed at the comment and winced, drawing a hand up to cradle ribs she'd known had been broken the night before.

"Ow… Don't make me laugh, Hermione, please." She hissed again as she swung her legs off the side of her narrow bed.

"What's with the pair of us?" Hermione asked with a shake of her head as she helped Lavender stand. "How can we still crack jokes at a time like this?"

"Because there's nothing else we can do." Even though her legs were trembling from the effort she forced herself to move, leaning heavily on Hermione for support. They made their way out of the room slowly, as with every step Lavender felt she'd faint dead away from the pain.

"Everyone will be really happy to see us. I didn't go down to breakfast or lunch. I had no appetite and wasn't about to leave you. It looked touch and go there for a while this morning. Milly was exhausted when she finished."

"I don't doubt it. They must be beside themselves with worry. I mean it's one thing for one person not to show for one meal, but it's something else entirely for two people to miss two meals."

"At the rate we're moving, it'll be three meals." Hermione commented offhandedly. Lavender wheezed, drew another hissing breath and dug her nails purposefully into Hermione's forearm.

"Didn't I tell you to stop making me laugh?"

Snape portkeyed into the Hall just as they were cleaning up after supper. He was surprised to see Bill Weasley sitting talking with Potter and wondered what they'd found to warrant calling the curse breaker in from Egypt. He strode across the room nodding acknowledgements to everyone and, without being invited, pulled out a chair and sat down next to Bill.

"Headmaster," Harry acknowledged his presence with a question, "did it work?"

"It seems to have."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I can feel her. At Hogwarts I knew she was somewhere to the southwest, but still quite far away."

"And now?" Harry asked. Snape closed his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

"And now she is directly to the west of us. We're closer to her here than when I was at Hogwarts, but still some ways away."

"Well, that settles it then. It's got to be the place we found." Fred chipped in as he came to join them.

"You've found it?" It was Snape's turn to ask the question.

"We're almost positive." Harry replied. "We found a place that fits the bill on St. Patrick's Isle, just off the coast of the Isle of Man, and it's so heavily warded it's not funny. That's why we've called Bill in, as it looks like we'll need all the help we can get to disable all the wards."

"Harry was just filling me in on the place. I'd like to take a look for myself , though. Want to come?" Bill cocked his head in the Headmaster's direction.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Severus replied, itching to see how the spell would feel at a much closer proximity. Already, the pull of the Vestigium Teneo was much stronger than it had been at Hogwarts and it had almost driven him to distraction then.

Hermione and Lavender had both fallen back into bed, exhausted, when they were returned to their room after supper. Even though the food had helped, they were totally drained, especially Lavender, who had been visibly trembling from her efforts not even halfway up the first flight of stairs. Milly had appeared and fed Lavender a number of potions before tucking the thin blanket up around her neck. Before the house-elf left, she'd told Hermione, with much apology, to expect to be called at midnight. That left her with four hours in which she could catch some shut-eye. Using a meditative technique she employed far too often for her liking, she cleared her mind and was soon fast asleep.

Everything suddenly got hazy as she was wrenched from her dream by reality. She was being shaken awake and, after an initial moment of disorientation, was angry at the fact. Gods, was it going on midnight already? Hermione groaned and rolled off her bed to sit up gracelessly as she tried to crack her grainy eyes open.

Harry had led Bill and the Headmaster to the periphery of the harbour town of Peel, a quaint little place on the northwestern side of the Isle of Man--a place steeped in a magic all its own. The trio stood on the shoreline looking out at St. Patrick's Isle. As Harry couldn't apparate for fear of leaving a wand signature the ministry could track, they had zipped here on broomstick. Knowing where they were headed had saved a lot of grief and they'd flown as the owl flies, directly west--cloaks whipping in the wind behind them as they flew--until they'd set down in a field just a few hundred yards from the shore.

Severus was having trouble concentrating. Even more so as every mile passed and he got closer to their destination, the harder he'd had to grip the broom handle. When they'd finally touched down, he'd found himself staggering as he struggled to find his legs.

He'd found her. Correction, they'd found her. His heart was hammering a staccato beat in his chest and he reeled, startling the other two.

"Are you all right, Headmaster?" Harry asked as he came over and gripped his elbow to help steady him. Severus gathered his wits together and straightened up nodding.

"I'm fine, Mr. Potter. I'm having a little difficulty due to the tracking potion." He shook off Harry's hand.

"And?" Harry's question was monosyllabic, but Snape didn't mind.

"This is the place. I'm sure of it." Bill walked over to stand next to the Headmaster.

"You're not kidding, Severus. Do you feel the wards?" He asked, one expert on the Dark Arts to another. Snape nodded and Bill turned away to perform a few semantic spells. A crease formed between his brows as he noted the results of his work. "Well, shite and sugar…" he shook his head. "This place is warded heavier than the Tower of London, and that place is a virtually impenetrable."

"Not good." Snape replied. "That involves quite a bit of work on our part."

"How long do you think it would take to bust all these wards down?" Harry's gaze flicked between the two men.

"Three or four days at the least. We've got to circumvent them in a way that doesn't tip them off to what we're doing." Bill answered.

"And it's going to take more than just the two of us. We're going to need Remus and Blaise Zabini too." Snape added. Bill raised an eyebrow as Severus spoke the last name. "He's good and we're going to need his help." Snape elaborated, understanding where Bill's reticence was coming from.

"And that's just for the wards. We've got nineteen people to break out of there. It's not going to be easy and we can't take it lightly." Harry added seriously. Snape found himself actually feeling proud of the boy for a fleeting moment, which was an unusual experience. The man he was now was a far cry from both his father and the person he'd been in school.

Suddenly, he found himself unable to keep the effects of the tracking spell at bay and stumbled to his knees. Before Harry could reach him he lurched to his feet and turned to stare in the direction of St. Patrick's Isle, eyes rolled up into the back of his head so that only the whites showed.

"What the hell is going on?" Bill asked, taking the whole thing in.

"I've no bloody idea." Harry answered. They watched the Headmaster turn to look over his shoulder.

"Ah, Miss Granger. How are you doing?"

"What?" Harry frowned and moved to shake Snape. He was stopped by Bill, who had reached out a hand to grasp his wrist. He looked over at the eldest of the Weasley siblings questioningly.

"Don't!" Bill instructed as he pulled Harry's hand down. "Let him be."

"What has happened?" Snape's voice cut through their conversation and they both turned to look at him, wondering what was going on.

"I see." Severus spoke again and Bill and Harry were itching to know what the other side of the conversation he was having consisted of.

"Yes." They watched as Snape raised his arm and pointed at St. Patrick's Isle. "Do you see that island?" Harry and Bill turned to follow Snape's hand. "That's where you are, Miss Granger. Right now, you're in the dormer room on the far upper left-hand side of the mansion"

"Is he really talking to Hermione?" Harry wondered out loud.

"I hope so," Bill replied, "otherwise we've got even more problems than we had before."

"Really." Snape spoke again and after a second he stumbled forward as he was released from the spell. When he'd finally recovered enough to stand up, he turned to his companions.

"Apparently, we have another complication."