Chapter Twelve
The fire crackled miserably in the grate as Maeve poured drinks for her two guests. Albert accepted the cup of tea gracefully, without commenting on the fact that it was too weak for his taste, and settled himself as close to the green flames as he could. The silent cold of the approaching winter crept into his bones with more ferocity each year, and it made him grateful for a fire, no matter how feeble. Remus also accepted tea, and found it just to his taste as he sipped at his cup.
Maeve sat close to Albert, eschewing the social crutch that a drink provided, and leant towards the old man with questions tearing at her tongue.
“So, how do you know that Severus is in danger?” she asked, unable to contain her anxiety any longer. “And why Draco?”
“We ‘ad some visitors to our village yusterday. Mind, we ‘ad a fair few visitors, some welcome, some not so welcome. But that’s the way of it, I suppose. Anyhow, this one visitor came a-callin’ on me in the church.” He paused his narrative for a lubricating slurp at his tea. “Which in itself were a surprise, given that the church is a special place and all. But he had words of warnin’ and I were proper surprised that they were turnin’ on their own.”
“Who is turning on who?” Remus asked, eager for any news that could help what was left of the ever-disintegrating Order.
“Them dark uns,” Albert said, his words slow and deliberate, as if he wished there to be no misunderstanding in what he was saying. “Allus were a tricky bunch, but now it seems the stakes are higher.”
“But who exactly?” Maeve pressed him.
“I don’t know their names,” Albert smiled. “I don’ know much about your world.” This didn’t convince Maeve. He knew enough to seek them out in Hogsmeade and he was completely at ease at Hogwarts. “What I do know is that there’s strife where you wouldn’t think ter look. But this chap, ‘ee says to me that there’s a feller just arrived at their boss’ place with a big chip on ‘is shoulder and who’s dishin’ the dirt on everyone, but ‘specially yer ‘usband.”
Maeve looked to Remus for some sort of reassurance and found none. Remus was busy wondering if there was anything in what Severus had said that could have given him any indication of where he planned to go after their earlier meeting.
“And tonight?” Maeve asked. “You said ‘they’d’ got what they wanted.”
“Aye, they did. This chap said that they were after someone who ‘ad been taking payment from two masters. And we all know that people taking payment from two masters meet a sticky end eventually.”
“But the pub?” Remus asked. “Why make the pub disintegrate and then appear normal. If they wanted someone inside, why not just step in and kill them?”
“These people, they have a degree of stature. They wouldn’t want any common or garden murder on their hands, if murder was what it was. They needed to get ‘im out with a bit of a palaver goin’ on.”
“Who?”
“Now, that I don’t know,” Albert admitted, tea providing temporary refuge from the unanswerable.
“And you said there were visitors to your village.” Remus decided to share Maeve’s role of gentle inquisitor. “Just what village is that?”
“That’d be Godric’s Hollow, young man. I’m sure you know it.”
Remus looked taken aback by this new information, unsure of where to go from there.
“Then you must have known Lily and James Potter?” Maeve blurted out.
“I did that,” Albert said with quiet dignity. “Knew ‘er well. That’s ‘ow I recognised yer friend there.” Albert nodded to Remus. “Visited them once or twice ‘ee did.
“I did,” Remus concurred, with a mournful nod of his tired head. “But I don’t recall you.”
“No, well, I liked to spend time with Lily but didn’t make myself conspicuous.”
“And are you a wizard?” Maeve asked.
“Not me, Miss. Never ‘ad the special abilities meself. Me granddad did, but ‘ee were the last of us.”
“Not necessarily,” Remus interjected. “They sometimes skip several generations. Your children’s children could be wizards. Do you have children?”
Albert suddenly looked sadder than Maeve could have thought possible with his cheery face. The emotion washed over him in rolling waves as he spoke. “I ‘ad a son. ‘Ee died many a year ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Maeve and Remus said in unison, unified in their sadness for the old man. It was clear he had never quite recovered from the loss of his child and they were unwilling to press him any further on the subject. Several moments of agonised silence passed before Albert realised that they were uncomfortable at being the ones to speak next.
“But it were a long time ago,” he said by way of comfort, “and time soothes wounds. Never ‘eals them, just relieves the ache a bit.”
Again, Maeve and Remus acted as one and nodded their agreement.
“I think I’ve outstayed my time here,” Albert said, rising from his chair. “I just wanted to deliver a warning to you.”
“But how did you even know?” Maeve asked. There were still so many unanswered questions for her. “How did you know where to find us?”
“My visitor told me quite a few things. And let’s just say I felt sorry for yer and all yer trouble. There’s some things a young married couple shouldn’t have to go through and this is one of them. ‘Ee’s too sharp to be betrayed by a young whippersnapper and that’s why I’m ‘ere. Redress the balance, you could say.”
“Thank you,” Maeve said, glancing to Remus to see if he had anything else to ask. “But I don’t quite know what to do with your information.”
“It’s ‘igh time you were with yer ‘usband,” Albert said, his attitude sharper than it had been. “All this nonsense, being at this school and pretending to teach. You ‘ave a place, and that place is by your ‘usband’s side. ‘Ee might not like it but ‘ee wouldn’t argue too ‘ard against it, I’ll bet.”
“But I don’t even know where he is! How would I convince him?” Maeve was ecstatic that she was having confirmation of all she believed. The right place for her, the place where she would feel the least sorrow, was standing with Severus, wherever he might be and whatever he might be facing.
Remus’ face had gone white at this turn of events. He was supposed to be persuading Maeve to get Harry to come to Hogwarts, not losing her as well.
“Well, now, I’m sure Severus would agree that Maeve is safest here,” he said. “He’ll not want to take her on the run with him.”
“You know that, lad, do you?” Albert asked. “You know that a ‘usband wouldn’t want ‘is wife by ‘im as ‘ee fought ‘is battles? If this one was my wife I wouldn’t let ‘er out of my sight for fear of losing ‘er.”
“Really, Mr Gryps,” Remus tried again, his voice forceful yet polite. “You don’t know the whole situation. It would not be in anyone’s best interests for Maeve to go running off after Severus. And I am sure Maeve knows that.” He glared at her hopeful face, challenging her to see sense. “Even if it’s not what she wants to hear,” he added, as an extra appeal to her rational side.
But Remus had already seen what love could do to a person at the Shrieking Shack, could see the suffering it could endure and the way it transcended all reasonable thought processes. He watched as Maeve’s gaze shifted to the fire’s glowing green flames and knew he had lost. There was a light in her face, a reflection of all that she wanted and would have, of a desire satiated.
“I think Albert is right,” she said slowly, turning back to the two men with a smile creeping, victorious, across the lower half of her face.
Albert gave a satisfied grunt and relaxed a little, placing the cup on the table. “I knew you’d see things in the right way.”
“This is not the right way!” Remus said, his voice rising. “This is not what we planned,” he said to Maeve. “This goes against everything we were talking about – about Harry.”
“ ‘Arry is it?” Albert asked. “Well, why don’t you leave young ‘arry to me.”
“What do you know about Harry?” Remus snapped, angry that he was being over-ridded.
“You met him, in Godric’s Hollow, didn’t you?” Maeve asked, watching Albert carefully. This man was exuding a powerful charm that she found almost equal to Roderick’s, but it had very different results. Roderick’s would stop a person dead at twenty paces and make them believe everything he said. Albert’s was subtler and gentler, but it still worked.
“I did that. I think that whatever it is you want ‘arry to do could be achieved if you left ‘im to me. Trust can be a wonderful thing for oiling the wheels of reluctance, or so my dad used to say.”
“Why would he trust you?” Remus asked, feeling even more sidelined.
“Because of ‘is mum, and because ‘ee ‘as no reason not to trust me, Mr Lupin, but I’d need you to maybe ‘elp things along a little. Mayhap ‘ee’d be ‘appier meeting me again with you present, as a little gesture of familiarity.”
A stiff, disapproving knock at the door brought silence to the room and Maeve rose to see who it was. The knock brought to mind Roderick and thinking of Roderick made her think of what Albert had said about the person the Death Eaters had been looking for serving two masters. Her hand moved to the door handle as her face blanched. Surely, surely Roderick couldn’t finally have succumbed to Voldemort. He could talk his way out of anything, couldn’t he?
Neville had a face that was both apologetic and accusatory as he stood on the threshold. Maeve instantly knew what she had done and it was fortunate that her face was already white; it compensated for the sudden blush as she realised she had stood him up.
“Oh, Neville! I am so sorry that I wasn’t here for our meeting.”
“It’s all right,” he said in an injured voice. “I understand you have a lot of things on your mind at the moment what with Professor Snape and everything. And in a way I’m glad you weren’t here.” He looked towards the interior of her office and Maeve knew she should invite him in, but she didn’t know if Albert would want the extra attention.
“Oh? Why’s that, Neville?” She shifted her weight from one tired foot to the other and wished that he would hurry up.
“Because it made me realise I needed to use my own mind and be my own person.” He moved his shoulders a little, as if by shrugging them he could shrug off the years of uncertainty.
“What do you mean?” Maeve suddenly looked as doubtful of Neville’s decision making as Remus was of hers.
“I’m leaving school. I’m going to join Harry and Ron.”
Maeve’s hand shot towards the door jam and clung on in astonishment. From the interior of her room she could hear Remus’ cup hit the table with a loud clink and he was beside her before she had the chance to respond.
“Neville,” he began, “you do know that your education is more important than any wild goose chases with Harry, don’t you?”
“Professor Lupin,” Neville stuttered. “I didn’t know you were here.” He took a step back.
“Just visiting,” he said quickly. “But you mustn’t leave school. It is very important that you stay on here.”
Maeve almost felt sorry for Remus at that moment and looked at his strained face with sympathy. “Remus is right, Neville. You need to stay here and finish your year. Hermione is staying and you’re right up there with her when it comes to things like Herbology. It would be a great loss to that subject if you left now.”
“But what use am I? You know… what with the prophecy and things. I feel I need to be near Harry.” He flushed as he realised he didn’t know if Remus knew about the prophecy and he might have made a mistake in blurting it out.
“You would be near to Maeve if you stayed here,” Remus argued and Maeve almost opened her mouth to say something about her not being here but she felt his hand press a warning into the base of her spine.
“That’s right,” she lied, her mind already made up about leaving. “And there is a possibility that Harry may be coming back to school.”
It was Neville’s turn to look surprised as he glanced from her to Remus, who nodded.
“Harry’s coming back here? But why would he do that?” Neville folded his arms in front of him.
“Because…” Maeve looked to Remus, who unfortunately was busy looking to her.
“Because, young man, he’s not daft and knows where he’s better off.” Albert shuffled into view, causing Neville to unfold his arms and stand a little straighter. “And you’d do well to think on that. You couldn’t be better off than you are here. What’s a youngster like you going to achieve in the face of them Dark uns, eh? Better to get the information into yer head and then face ‘em.”
“But… but I think…” Neville’s arguments failed him as the old man’s eyes watched him carefully. “I don’t know.”
“You do know, lad. You know this is the place fer you to be. All this stuff and nonsense about running off to fight the great fight, eh. Ruddy nonsense, that’s what it is. You stay safe and don’t be in an ‘urry to get yerself killed chasing dreams of ‘eroics.”
Maeve stepped back and allowed Albert the floor, wondering if it were really possible for three people to be balancing so many untruths, like plates spinning on poles, ready to fall and shatter at their feet. The old man was really in his stride now and was continuing to give Neville a very thorough lecture on the foolhardiness of running off to war. She stepped even further back into the quiet gloom of her room and began to plan her escape in her mind. Professor McGonagall would have to be apologised to, of course, and a new Potions teacher found. She watched Remus’ brown-clothed, wide-shouldered back and wondered if he would – well, it would earn him some money and he wasn’t completely hopeless at Potions. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stepped in to her shoes at short notice, after all.
Her mind strayed to her bedroom. A few clothes in a bag along with her toothbrush and a few toiletries wouldn’t take much to carry and she could be gone by morning. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know where Severus was; she’d found him before and she’d find him again. Remus turned suddenly, as if her train of thought had thundered through the tunnel of his over-worked mind and shook the walls of his brain.
“No,” he mouthed, not wanting Neville or Albert to understand their conversation. “Don’t do it.”
She shook her head. “I have to,” the whisper was low. “I have been so unhappy here.” Her hands tugged nervously at the folds of her skirt.
He moved closer to better understand her whispered reasoning, leaving Neville’s carefully come-to decision to be thoroughly picked apart by Albert.
“Think of the danger to you and Severus. Maeve, this is madness. You’ve had your head turned by a foolish old man and you know this isn’t right, for anyone.” His gentle eyes pleaded with her, willing her to have a change of heart, knowing that her husband would blame him for this. “What do I need to do to stop you?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “I can’t get Harry to come back if you’re not here.”
“You can,” she said. “He’ll come back with you and Albert at him.” She paused, aware of the heavy ticking of time. “I need to pop out and see someone.”
“What?” he said, dismay creeping over him. “Now?”
“Yes, now. I need to know that they are all right and I need their help if they are.”
“Is this Roderick?” Remus was now even more agitated than he had been. “You know, you can’t trust him. What if he was the person the Death Eaters were looking for?”
“That’s what I need to find out. I know what Roderick is, Remus. I know he’s difficult. I’m under no illusions about his ability to switch sides at any moment. But he’s helped me before and, if he’s still here, he’ll help me again.”
“He could be part of Severus’ problem. By doing this you could contribute to the danger Severus is in.” Remus had never thought he would be overly concerned about Severus Snape’s welfare, but now it seemed of paramount importance to what they were trying to do.
A dry cough interrupted their disagreement as Albert laid a grandfatherly hand across Neville’s shoulders. “I’ll walk the young un back to his common room and then I’ll be off.”
“Oh, okay,” Maeve began, her lack of concern for Neville apparent. Remus was about to say something else but Albert continued before he could voice it.
“Thank you for yer ‘ospitality, Professor Snape, you’ve been most accommodating. If you’re ever passin’ by Godric’s Hollow you just pop in. It’s the end ‘ouse on the village green; red door with the brass knocker. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Maeve replied. “I’ll be sure to drop in on you sometime. And thank you for the warning.”
“Maeve,” Remus cut through the pleasantries, feeling there was still more to be said and that Albert perhaps hadn’t told them all he could.
“I’m just off out too,” she said, wilfully ignoring him. “Could you close the door on your way out, Remus?”
She dodged past Albert, patted Neville’s arm as an apology for her lack of concern, and scurried off along the corridor in the direction of Roderick’s office. The light in the corridor flickered and dulled as Remus realised that he had just been completely railroaded into a siding by Maeve’s force of will.
“Bright thing, isn’t she?” Albert observed.
“Oh, yes. Very intelligent,” Remus agreed, although he would have argued the point that she ill-used her intelligence on occasion.
“I didn’t mean that, lad. She’s bright. Brings light where there’s dark. ‘Er ‘usband needs ‘er, whether you think it’s a grand idea or not.” And with that admonition he steered a bewildered Neville away in the direction that Maeve had taken.
Remus sighed out his frustration and wondered how on earth he was going to get Harry back here, persuade Maeve not to leave and make Severus understand that things weren’t as easy as he seemed to think, especially where his headstrong wife was concerned. Closing the door gently behind him he just missed the flare from the fire, and it was an empty room that greeted Severus when he popped in to see if Maeve was still in one piece.
The door to Roderick’s office was, unsurprisingly, closed and Maeve knocked lightly, hoping and praying that she would hear Roderick’s familiar voice beckon her in. A few moments passed and she was sure she had heard a scuffle of some sort from the other side of the closed door. She was about to knock again when the door opened and revealed a calm-looking Roderick beaming at her.
“Maeve, my lovely, what a delightful, if unexpected, surprise. Can’t really talk now, have something important to do.”
Mirroring Neville, Maeve peered over his shoulder into the room beyond, but couldn’t glimpse much.
“I need to speak to you,” she said. “And I really need to speak to you now.”
“Oh.” He rolled his eyes and allowed a hand to rest indolently on her shoulder. “My darling, you tease and torment me for weeks and then you need me just when I am in the middle of something else.”
“Would that something else be a someone else?” she asked, shifting his hand firmly from her shoulder. “Someone female?”
“Oh, fabulous,” he breathed. “My glittering icicle is jealous. You’re too divine for words sometimes, cherub.”
“Really, Roderick, have you swallowed something overly sugary? That’s pure syrup, even by your standards.”
“You know how to wound a man,” he groaned. “But seriously, gorgeous, can’t it wait?”
“Not really.” She stood steadfast and waited for him to give in. He may well have some dealings with Jenny Fitzwilliam, but that was his business and something she didn’t have time for now. Her resolve was hardening by the second and she just wanted to hurry this along.
“You’re killing me, here, you know that?” He hovered in the doorway, trying desperately to prioritise the two women. “I can give you half-an-hour, but not here.”
“Let’s take a walk up the Astronomy Tower,” Maeve suggested. “I think that will be secluded enough.”
“Going to ravish me, are you?” he grinned, softly closing the door behind him. “Can’t wait.”
It was cold, colder than the grave that Lucius would soon be occupying, as Narcissa walked slowly through the centre of the town. The cloak she had borrowed from Maeve was pulled tightly around her and she tried to weather the storm of curious glances from passing Muggles. Under any circumstances, Narcissa would have drawn attention with her striking beauty, but with her green cloak and startled expression she was even more conspicuous. A light drizzle dampened her hair and she was irritated that the cloak’s hood didn’t quite cover her head fully.
It was a little before nine o’clock when she reached the Muggle bus station, its orange lights and smell of hotdogs making her cringe at the shabbiness of it all. She stood at the entrance, peering into the semi-circular construction. Glass shelters jutted out around the curve of the wall, several people sheltering beneath them in the gloom. In the places where the light bulbs had either blown or been blown out by youths with nothing better to do, the hot pinpricks of cigarettes occasionally perforated the darkness. Narcissa was frightened, frightened to use any magic and frightened to reveal herself to the Muggle world.
Several dirty-white buses pulled in and out as she stood there, faces pressed to the grubby, rain-spattered windows as they tried to distance themselves from their travelling companions. The number seven announced that it was going to Alder’s End while the number sixty-two was going to Green Park. If Narcissa had expected one to pull in conveniently marked London, she was soon disabused of this idea. And then, just as she was about to give in to a bout of self-indulgent silent sobbing, she heard it: the rumble of magic as it tore through the street and presented itself to her with a squeal of brakes, a resounding bang and a dazzling flash of light.
Livid purple and invisible to the Muggles around her, the Knight Bus came to a shuddering halt in front of Narcissa, its vast black wheels just inches from her dainty feet. She shrank away from the contraption, knowing what it was but never having conceived that she would ever need its services. After all, a Pureblood witch with her connections should never have cause to be stranded without protection.
She retreated even further when a young man, pimply and wearing a smart, peaked cap on his shortly cropped hair, swung out of the opened door and tipped a youthful hand to his brow.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” he said confidently, before stuttering to a halt. “Ermm… Just a sec, love, forgot what comes next. ‘Ere, Ern… What comes after Knight Bus?” he shouted over his shoulder. Narcissa looked around him, her face desperate.
“Ar,” said the elderly wizard, who was sitting in what appeared to be a large armchair.
“Well now, that’s no ‘elp, is it?” the young man said, returning his attention to Narcissa. “Anyhow, you must be stranded for the Knight Bus to call fer you. Give us yer wand hand an’ I’ll pull you aboard.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Narcissa breathed, afraid that if she re-entered wizarding circles in this manner her identity would be immediately known and relayed back to people she would rather not know.
“What doncher know?” the young man asked. “Ah, you don’t know my name. Eric Shunpike, at your service.”
“Hello, erm… Eric,” she replied, still looking nervously at the driver, whose glasses seemed impossibly thick for someone who was driving a form of public transport.
“An’ what might your name be then? Lovely woman like you, out on yer own and everyfink.” It was Eric’s turn to look around her as he tried to see if she had any luggage. “You got no cases or bags, then?”
“No, no I haven’t,” she said quickly. “I travel light. I’m…erm…”
“Don’t choo know who you are?”
“Professor O’Malley,” she said quickly.
“Professor are you? Well… D’you ‘ear that, Ern…We got a Professor.”
“Ar,” the driver grunted a response.
“Ernie don’t say much, do you, Ern?”
“Ar,” Ern confirmed.
“Ernie Prang’s bin driving the bus for years. ‘Ee knew my brother when he were conducting. That were before they got him and shoved him in prison on some trumped up charge. My old ma…broke her heart it did. Still, got to keep yer chin up and get on with it, doncher?” Eric looked downcast for a brief moment before his natural good humour and inquisitiveness returned.
Narcissa nodded, not sure exactly what Eric Shunpike was talking about. The rain was falling steadily now and she could feel her boots beginning to leak.
“So,” Eric stuck his hand out to help her on board. “Where you goin’ then?”
“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she said, surprising herself with her destination.
“Oo! You bin playing ‘ookey ‘ave you? Well, that ain’t right, is it, Ern? Teacher playin’ ‘ookey. We’d best be getting you back then. That’ll be 1 Knut and eleven Sickles then, please. You can get extras, but I’ve forgotten what they are… Toofbrushes and cocoa, I fink.”
Narcissa reluctantly reached up and took his hand, almost recoiling at the clamminess, and he hauled her unceremoniously on board the strange bus. Dipping into the small purse of money she had brought with her she counted out the exact change and placed it into his outstretched hand. Her gaze then shifted to the four-poster beds that lined both sides of the bus, taking the place of normal seating. Unsure which to take, Eric came to her rescue and pointed her in the direction of the one nearest to them.
“You settle yourself down there an’ we’ll get goin’. Take her away, Ern!” he called cheerfully.
With a spark and a swoosh the door closed as the engine prepared to roar into life again. Ernie put his foot rather heavily down on the accelerator and the bus shot forward at great speed, sending Narcissa tumbling over her own feet. She landed on the bed with her skirts around her ears, displaying rather more flesh and underwear than she would have cared to.
“Blimey!” Eric said, a smile sending his pimples scattering across his face. “I don’t think I were meant to see that,” he added as Narcissa hurriedly tried to recover her modesty.
She huddled on the bed, wondering how long the journey would take but unwilling to draw the strange young man’s attention back to her by asking him. The Knight Bus was erratic and swayed from side to side with alarming frequency. Narcissa wasn’t sure how she was hanging on to her stomach as the bed reeled from the erratic driving. But at least it was dry, and the next place she would be was Hogwarts. If she had to crawl to that dreadful woman to help her again, then so be it. But this time she would make sure she led her to that husband of hers. And at least in Severus she had one person who she could trust beyond all measure. She ignored the rain that cascaded down the windows and tried not to imagine just how the driver was managing to see through those glasses and the wet windscreen.
After a short while the bus lurched to a halt again, sending the beds into a frantic dance, and Eric leapt to the door, desperately trying to memorise his full welcoming speech. Narcissa kept her face covered by the now damp cloak, forcing the hood to cover her face and losing a few inches off the bottom in doing so, and peered out to see who the new arrival was. She couldn’t hear the interchange between Eric and the passenger but Eric was getting a little heated. He was then was shoved roughly aside as a tall, blond figure marched onto the bus, his eyes passing scornfully over her covered head and down towards the far end.
“What choo say your name was?” Eric called, having recovered from his rough handling.
“I didn’t.” The young man turned back to Eric and scowled. “And you won’t ask again if you know what’s good for you. Now, I want to go to Eastwrithe, and you can drop me off first, before all these other…” he glanced scornfully at the assortment of desperate passengers and discovered he couldn’t be bothered to give a name to their collective. “Just tell the old man to put his foot down.”
And Draco Malfoy swept to the back of the bus with a sneer on his supercilious face.
Narcissa was trembling. Her first instincts had been to throw off the cloak and run to her son, enveloping him in the safety of her arms. But something had held her back. Why hadn’t she said anything? Draco was the reason she had left the safety of the house the Rampton man had provided for her and yet here she was, almost afraid to speak to her own child. It had been the look in his eyes, the sneering hatred, that had made her recoil further into the anonymous safety of Maeve’s cloak. She should speak to him, find someway of acknowledging him. Her mind reeled as it tried to place the name Eastwrithe. Surely she would have heard of it if Draco were making his way there. And why wasn’t he with Severus? Cold fear settled itself in her still unsteady stomach as she began to imagine a scenario in which Severus would have abandoned Draco. She eventually came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have. Was Severus dead?
She peered out at her son, blue eyes searching for something in his glacial face. It was too dark for her to make out anything but the force of his detestation for everything around him. She couldn’t let him see her like this, in a borrowed cloak with hair damp and matted from the rain. She couldn’t let her son down in the way his father had let him down. She would continue to Hogwarts and get the O’Malley woman to help her, and Rampton. Rampton would be at Hogwarts and whatever anyone said about him, he was good in a tight spot.
Narcissa kept her vigil until the bus came to another of Ernie’s abrupt halts and her son walked past her, sneer intact, without sparing so much as a glance for his embattled mother as she huddled like a discarded rag doll on the bed beside him.
Draco got off, elbowing Eric in the ribs as he did so, and Narcissa breathed again. She kept the cloak covering her face though, unwilling to let others see her tears of frustration, longing and loss as they coursed a now well-sluiced path down her cheeks.
The Astronomy Tower was predictably empty as Roderick and Maeve arrived there, stepping out onto the parapet that ringed the tower. It was used for astronomical observations but, as Maeve looked to the heavy, cloud-bruised sky, there would be no observing anything tonight. She leant against the crenellated walls and peered into the semi-darkness around them. He was out there, alone, and she was here, safe. It would have to change.
“So, are you going to devour me now, or would you like a little small talk first?” Roderick leaned against the wall too and looked into her face. “You miss him very much, don’t you?” he asked, laughter and frivolity dissolving into the darkness.
“More than I could have imagined,” she said into the night. “And that’s what I want to talk to you about.” Maeve knew there would be none of the arguments that Remus had put up. Roderick understood adventure and desire and wouldn’t stand in her way.
“Are you insane?” he asked, after she had explained what she wanted to do. “If you think I’m going to help you do that you must be off your delectable trolley.”
“Well,” she began, irritated that the one person she thought would understand was being awkward. “That’s a little unhelpful. You know I’ll go ahead and leave whether you help me or not so I think you could be a little more accommodating.”
“Why? You seem to think I’m some endless favour that can be constantly be called in whenever you are in trouble.” The shift in attitude permeated the air around them, making Maeve shiver.
“That’s unfair of you,” she said in such a small voice that Roderick barely heard her.
“Unfair or not, it’s true. What am I, some Mr Fix-it?” He was looking out towards the night now, his dark hair blowing back in the breeze. Maeve wasn’t sure what she had done or said to turn his normally animated face to ice and she quickly re-assessed her approach. His morose expression made her angry with herself for, well, for taking him for granted. There was no other way to describe what she was doing.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think you are. I think you are someone that lives for a challenge.”
He shifted his face slightly, the light from the torches that skirted the wall setting a spark to his attractive eyes. Maeve knew he was listening; she just had to find the right things to say.
“I think that without people presenting you with a little excitement and danger you would drift, like the sea without the pull of the moon to give it some purpose. You’re an Auror; it’s what you do. Without the attention, without being needed, your life would be duller than you could bear. And you’re good at what you do. People come to you because you always deliver.”
The silence strained between them, blown by the wind and taunted by Maeve’s words. She watched as his jaw worked slightly, willing him to respond, willing him to accept the truth of the flattery.
“And I come to you because you are the only person I know that can help me, not because I think you are there to be used. And I believe in you.”
Being believed in was not something that Roderick was used to, certainly not in his personal life. Not that he’d ever particularly wanted to be believed in, having fun was far more important. But something in this woman wormed its way into his conscience and made him feel dissatisfied with things the way they were.
“Please, Roderick. Don’t take offence. It’s not like you.” And she realised that she didn’t really know what he was like beyond what she had seen in their short acquaintance. Did she really know what anyone was like in her life; she had only known them all for just over a year, with the exception of Severus.
Roderick’s red cloak fluttered slightly and his slender hands caught at it to stop it blowing open. He inclined his head towards her, his voice lower and more serious than she had ever heard it.
“I know. I know it’s not like me. Of course I’ll help you, that’s inevitable, but sometimes it feels as if you only ever come to me when you are in trouble. And you’re right, I like a challenge. I live and breathe a challenge, but sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes I want…” he stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know what I want.” He gave her a cracked smile that was filled with a surprising amount of self-doubt and insecurity.
A rumble from the sky indicated the approach of a storm, tiny droplets of rain reaching for them and spitting on the torches. In their flickering light Maeve reached for him and gave him a gentle hug and he allowed it, with no flirtatious comment or throwaway remark. A swift sheet of lightning illuminated them and Roderick pulled away.
“Come on then,” he said, the spell of intimacy broken. “Let’s get you re-united with your husband.” And the rain beat a tattoo on the tower as they darted back inside, away from the filthy weather.
“You’re leaving?” Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk with a raised eyebrow and a stern expression on her face. “And when did you decide upon this unexpected course of action?”
“Today. I can’t do my job properly with all that has happened.” Maeve could still feel Remus’ disappointed disapproval as he had finally admitted defeat and agreed to take her position, providing it was agreeable to Minerva.
“And have you given any thought to what you will do, or to the fact that the Ministry will want to keep an eye on you because of Severus.”
Maeve hesitated before replying. “I’m going home. Rathgael is as good a place as any to sit this out and wait for Severus to clear his name. The Ministry doesn’t really concern me at the moment. They’re not exactly the most competent organisation.”
Professor McGonagall looked even more incredulous now, or as incredulous as her inanimate face would allow. “You have never struck me as a witch inclined to merely ‘sit things out’. And I think the Ministry will have difficulty believing that too. They may be ‘incompetent,’ but they are also persistent.”
“The Ministry can believe what they like. The fact of the matter is I shall be going home to Rathgael, where I shall busy myself with Potions work.”
“But you could do that here, and provide a service to the students. I’m sorry, Maeve” – she stood up and poked the fire absently – “but I just can’t see what you hope to gain from this. Unless there is something at the school you specifically wish to get away from.”
“Just memories,” Maeve said sadly. “Memories and constant reminders.”
“And who would take your position? When do you intend to leave?” The conversation had veered too close to emotional matters for the headmistress’ liking and she immediately steered it back on a more business-like path.
“I have spoken with Remus and he has agreed to take my position to allow you the time to make a new appointment. I’m sorry; my teaching career has been very hit and miss what with one thing and another. I think I need to draw a line under it.”
“You are making a mistake. You may not have been here for a long time, but you have been an excellent teacher. We have no complaints about your work, and the students certainly seem to enjoy your classes. You are swapping a secure position within the safety of these walls for the exposure of your cottage.”
“My mind is made up,” Maeve said, aware that Roderick was waiting for her by the front door. “I need to leave now. My bag is packed and I will be escorted home. Inform the Ministry if you wish. I have no objections.”
Professor McGonagall knew better than to try and persuade her to change her mind and rose too, with a nod of her head. “Very well then. If your mind is made up there is little I can say. I will have to inform the Ministry, but I will make sure they do not perceive this as an attempt to run away on your part.”
“Thank you,” Maeve said, extending her hand to shake her soon-to-be former employer’s.
“And there will always be shelter for you here, if you need it.”
She left with a leaden heart and made her way back to her room to collect the bag that she had already packed. It was late now, approaching half past ten, and she was tired. Roderick was going to accompany her to Rathgael before locating Severus and she knew that she would owe him so much if he managed it, owed him so much for even trying.
With a lingering glance at the room she said a mental goodbye to the bats before closing the dungeon and a part of her life that she had been so recently unhappy with.
As her retreating steps echoed down the corridor the fire, that was now little more than smouldering embers, flared and Severus appeared once again.
His impatient eyes scoured the room for signs of life and when they found none clouded with annoyance.
“Insufferable woman,” he hissed. “I finally find a secure fire and you’re not here.” With one last angry flash of his black eyes he withdrew his head from the fire and left the room to its silent counsel.
The Knight Bus came to a tyre-shredding halt outside the main gates, just missing one of the pillars. Narcissa stood up unsteadily and smoothed her borrowed cloak down as Eric waited expectantly by the door.
“Come on then, Professor! ‘Ome at last. And by the looks of things, you’ve a welcoming committee!”
Narcissa looked out into the darkness and saw two figures approaching the bus, their identity concealed by the lack of light. She hesitated then, wondering if she was about to step into the lap of danger.
“Come on then, what choo waiting for. We’ve other customers to deliver.”
She glanced at Eric and realised she had no choice. Stepping straight into a large puddle of water she felt the door close and with another loud bang the Knight Bus was gone, the relief of its bright light snatched away, leaving her alone and in darkness.
The people coming down the long drive were obviously not as wary as she was because a wand was suddenly lit, chasing away the immediate blackness and casting shadows dancing around her. Before she had the opportunity to decided whether to flee or fight, the gate swung open and allowed her entry. But she didn’t get very far.
“For the love of all that’s magical!” Roderick exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You had a perfectly good safe place to stay and here you are, wandering around like a hopeless cause.”
“You have to help me,” Narcissa breathed, unable to believe her luck. “I know where Draco is going, but I don’t know why. I have to find him before he meets with the Dark Lord.”
She realised that the person with Roderick was Maeve and she almost felt a pang of regret at what she thought she might know about Severus’ fate. “I’m sorry, but Severus wasn’t with him. There’s no way that Severus would have let Draco go alone. I think he might be… Well, I think he might be…”
“He’s not dead,” Maeve said. “But he’s in danger. Probably more so now because of that brat of a son of yours.”
“Well, really!”
“No time for this, ladies,” Roderick said, dropping his wand down towards the floor he cast around for something suitable to turn into a Portkey and found it in the shape of a discarded scarf. With a muttered Charm he turned the wet, woolly mess into a means of travel and with a smile asked them if they were ready.
A minute later they were standing outside the door of Rathgael and it had stopped raining.