Chapter Two
An Uncomfortable Alliance.
Narcissa’s cold eyes sparked with disbelief as she took in the scene before her. She had come here looking for her son and instead had found the inflexible figure of the one person she really hadn’t wanted to bump into for a long time, if ever. Her porcelain hands flailed into the air, looking for support, and when they failed to find any she settled for gripping the edge of her cloak.
“Narcissa,” Roderick said, his face a picture of pleasure. “How delightful of you to call in.”
“What’s she doing here?” Her words carried undiluted hatred, despite her startled appearance. Pale hair caught the light and provided Narcissa with a hoary halo that was at odds with her anger-ridden face. “How did she find out about this place?”
Maeve was fighting several feelings at once. The first was intense and crushing jealousy that this woman seemed to know so much about a part of her husband’s life that had been denied to her. Had Maeve been a simpler woman, with no thought for consequences, she would have slapped the superior-looking creature standing before her with that pained expression on her silly face. As it was she bit her tongue for a moment and tried to think. She didn’t want to appear stupid; ignorance would merely add fuel to Narcissa’s already well-lit fire of control and yet, her problem was that she was entirely ignorant of this place and of Severus’ life here. She cursed him for leaving her in this vulnerable position and prayed that he had a good reason for it. Maeve also felt fear, fear that Narcissa being here meant that Severus was somehow in worse trouble than she had first imagined.
“We thought we’d pay a visit to Severus’ little hideaway. Maeve wanted to see if she could collect anything that might be of use to her husband “ isn’t that right, Maeve?” Roderick said, his smooth, untruthful, words tripping across the slanting dust. Narcissa blanched at the use of the term husband, despite the fact that she had a perfectly good husband of her own. Although given the current state of things Lucius wasn’t exactly in a perfect position with Voldemort.
The aloof witch was desperately trying not to address Maeve directly but she couldn’t help looking at her from the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to admit it, but she could see something of her own dilemma reflected back from the yawning pupils that surveyed her with corresponding distaste.
“You’re not telling me she knew about this place?” Narcissa was incredulous. “I thought no-one but Severus and I knew, and Bella… but Bella is, well…”
“Dead,” Maeve finished her sentence for her, entering the conversation with a word so final that it brought Narcissa to a stuttering halt. “Bella is dead, isn’t she? It may interest you to know that I saw her die.”
“Maeve.” The word was a warning and Maeve, for once, heeded Roderick’s advice and fell silent.
“Bella was my sister,” Narcissa spat, goaded, finally, into speaking directly to Maeve. “Perhaps you should remember that before you go around merrily telling people that you watched her die.” She hesitated before the callousness of her world caught up with her. “And no doubt you enjoyed it.”
Maeve knew the harm caused by immuring oneself within a mindset and she suspected that Narcissa had lost much of her ability to see that all people did not share the same cold-hearted viewpoint.
“Not particularly,” she replied, refuting the allegation with a half-hearted attempt at denial. “Certainly not as much as Bella would have done had the situation been reversed. By all accounts watching people suffer was a speciality of hers. Oh, but then I forget; she was Death Eater… that’s what they do.”
“Severus is a Death Eater,” Narcissa said dangerously. “Or are you forgetting that?”
“Was a Death Eater. He is no longer working for Voldemort, as well you know.”
Narcissa looked oddly pleased at this, giving a strangled falsetto laugh, and Roderick again tried to intervene.
“Now, now, ladies, let’s all calm our aerated tempers for a moment. We have nothing to gain from this nonsense, amusing though it is.” He winked at Maeve, who widened her eyes in disbelief at his apparent delight.
“Is that what he told you,” Narcissa said, her voice dripping happiness. “It’s true then, what they say. The wives are always the last to know. Severus never left the Dark Lord, not even for you.” The look that accompanied these words suggested that Severus would not leave a pile of dead Horklumps for Maeve, even if her life depended on it. “Through the darkest years he kept his faith in the Dark Lord. He told me so himself, in this room, not three weeks ago. I must admit I was sceptical at first, especially after he married you… but we all have our moments of madness and I suppose this was his. He did tell me that there was a purpose to his nauseating alliance with you.”
Maeve felt as if a strange mist was descending about her ears. Three weeks? That was the first week of their honeymoon. He had left on the Tuesday, saying he had to visit Dumbledore, something for the Order. He had been gone longer than expected, sending her an owl in the early evening to say he would be late, very late. She saw the room through different eyes then, could imagine the quiet companionship as Narcissa and Severus sat on the threadbare furniture, sipping wine and chatting about Voldemort. Did he crow about how easily she had been hoodwinked into believing… believing what. Maeve shook these perfidious thoughts from her head, hating Narcissa for making her think them.
“Nice attempt, Narcissa. You’ll have to do much better than that to even begin to make me distrust him.”
“What if I told you he made an Unbreakable Vow,” Narcissa hissed, enjoying her position of news-breaker. “With me, in this very room, sealed by none other than Peter Pettigrew.”
And now Maeve did grow pale. Unbreakable Vows were not taken lightly and only when the person making the vow knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they could fulfil them. The alternative was death.
Roderick looked extremely interested at this point. He was always exceedingly gratified to receive information that was new to him, and this was most definitely fresh to his ever-hungry ears.
“An Unbreakable Vow?” Maeve sat heavily on the sofa, the fight apparently drained out of her. “Pettigrew?”
“Surprised?” She couldn’t keep the chilling pleasure from her voice.
“What was the vow?” The cold clamp of jealousy wouldn’t let go of Maeve’s heart and it squeezed painfully as she tried to breathe. “What did he agree to?”
“I’m not sure he would want you to know. After all, you obviously didn’t know about this place, despite his attempts to cover that up.” She nodded her contempt at Roderick, who bridled under her scorn. “Perhaps it is better you don’t know.”
Maeve was out of her seat in a flash and had a hand clamped firmly around Narcissa’s astounded face before the other woman had the chance to defend herself. Her fingers dug into the older witch’s flesh, nails scoring red lines down the skin. Narcissa felt her head crack against the wall as the ferocity of Maeve’s anger was unleashed.
“Do you see this?” Maeve yelled, thrusting her left hand in Narcissa’s face and allowing her full view of the perfectly formed gold that circled her ring finger. “Do you understand what that means, what it really means? It’s not an ornament, worth galleons and a good position. It’s a bond, one that is unbreakable…as unbreakable as the vow you say Severus took. If he didn’t tell me about this “ this sordidness “ it was because he wished to protect me. And protect me he did, but he should have let me know. He was wrong to shield me because now it’s harder. But it’s not impossible, Narcissa, and your words, malicious though they may be, will not shake me. I know that I can’t change what he has been ” why would I even attempt it? But I know that he is no longer what he was, no matter how much you will it to be so.” A thin drizzle of Narcissa’s blood ran down one of her fingernails and she stared at the injurious digit in revulsion, withdrawing her hand quickly and surveying the arc of scarlet that she had left on the once perfect skin.
Narcissa drew herself together, making no attempt to wipe away the blood, feeling the pain and accepting it.
“Lucius is not a bad man,” she began, her voice faltering slightly at the slight against her husband and her marriage. “He did what he did for us, for Draco and I. He has been a good father to my son.”
“He’s been the worst father!” Maeve retorted. “What did he ever do for that boy?”
“Maeve.” The warning came again from Roderick and she looked at his face with a glimmer of regret, remembering his own unstable childhood. “I think Narcissa has other things on her mind.”
“Like what?” Maeve snorted, anger making her reckless. “Like when her son will follow his father? When will Draco make his first kill, Narcissa? Is that what you are so worried about? Got to prove himself to Voldemort, doesn’t he?”
“MAEVE!”
She dropped her head, ashamed of her bitter cruelty.
“He failed.” The words were hollow and yet carried an edge of despair that made Maeve raise her eyes beneath weary lashes. She could see the struggle that was going on in Narcissa’s head and she recognised it as her own. The struggle between believing in your loved one and accepting that there were circumstances you would rather they were not involved in. The anxiety was evident in every fickle string of Narcissa’s being.
“Failed at what?”
“Indeed, Narcissa. What did he fail at?” Roderick was leaning against the sofa, his relaxed demeanour belying the interest he felt in the conversation.
Narcissa looked at them in turn; fearful of the consequences should her husband find out she was here, with these people. In the end it was her fear for her son that made her speak, made her confide in people she should otherwise have hated.
“The Dark Lord was displeased with Lucius. You know there was some trouble with - with Bella.” Her tongue hastily brushed her lips with moisture to relieve the dryness of the situation. “It seems that Lucius was trying to gain supremacy in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, but Bella felt that was her position. The Dark Lord thinks, wrongly, I might add, that Lucius deliberately set out to trick Bella and that this trick resulted in her death. But you were there,” she said, looking at Maeve with discomfort. “You must have known what really happened.”
Maeve shook her head, memories of that night and day in the cellars of Abbeylara still fresh. “No, I didn’t know anything about Lucius. Bella was having some dispute with my father and with, well, with Roderick.”
Both women looked to the smiling man, who continued to grin, not faltering in his good humour for a moment. He gave a little shrug, as if to say he wouldn’t know about these things. “It was a very confusing time for everyone. What Lucius did was his own affair; he certainly didn’t let me in on his secrets. Rather foolish of him to try and usurp Bella, or anyone for that matter. Surely he knows that Voldemort had no favourites?”
Narcissa was about to argue with him about Lucius, but realised it would get her nowhere. It wouldn’t bring her husband back from skulking around in Europe on some rather nasty mission that the Dark Lord had set for him. She knew she would have to be very careful now that he had marked the Malfoys as being questionable. If it hadn’t been for Lucius, Draco would never have been placed in such a terrible position. And as her thoughts moved back to her son her lip began to quiver and she barely held onto her composure.
Maeve sensed the fatigue in Narcissa, she felt it in herself and knew it made rational thought very difficult. Her loathing shifted just enough to allow the notion that she might be able to help Maeve find Severus, unpleasant though that idea may be.
“What did Draco fail at, Narcissa?” she asked, in a more temperate way. “What does Draco failing have to do with this?”
“The Dark Lord told him he had to kill Dumbledore. Not that the old fool didn’t deserve to be removed from his position, doddering around in his tower, but Draco… how could Draco possibly kill someone so much more powerful than himself?”
Roderick watched lazily as Maeve fought to control her rage. Such loyalty to the old wizard was touching, especially in one so distressed. In fact Roderick was beginning to quite enjoy being caught in the middle of these two very attractive, distraught females. It made him feel rather dashing, as if he had recently cantered across the pages of melodrama. Taking care not to disturb the flow of their conversation he produced some glasses and a bottle of wine with his wand and prepared himself for a pleasurable few hours.
“But Draco didn’t kill Dumbledore, Severus did,” Maeve retorted. “Why did Severus…” And with an echoing clang the penny finally dropped for her. “Oh, no, Narcissa. Please tell me that wasn’t the vow?” There was an ugly, lurching sensation in her stomach as the possibilities began to form and gain clarity in the stale air that surrounded them. “Please tell me Severus didn’t promise to kill Dumbledore. That is too unbelievable, even for him.”
“I begged him,” Narcissa admitted, a sparkling of tears dusting her eyelids. “I begged him to do it, knowing what it would mean. And he did it, he did it to protect my son.” The tears were swept away by her luminous lashes. “He did it for me, and for Draco, knowing full well what it would mean for you. You’re finished. How can he possibly live a normal life after this? He made a choice and he chose correctly.” The malice in Narcissa reasserted itself as she tried to out-face Maeve. “If you’re lucky you’ll get out of this foolish marriage with your name intact, but little else.”
“What,” Maeve began, through painfully clenched teeth, “did I ever do to you that you would hate me so much?”
Narcissa began to answer but checked herself. “You exist,” she said after a pause. “You had to come back from wherever it is they had decided to bury you, and you ruined everything.”
“What did I ruin?” Maeve demanded.
“You’ll never understand.” The malice retreated again and was replaced with a sadness that was pitiful. Roderick calmly handed them both a glass of wine and they took it, heedless of the early hour or the incongruousness of the scenario.
“Try me?” Maeve asked, but she didn’t get her answer. They were interrupted by a knock at the front door; a loud insistent knocking that was fully intent on being answered.
“I thought you said no one else knew about this place,” Maeve said, looking from Roderick to Narcissa with something bordering on relief that someone would get her out of this predicament.
Roderick insisted that no one else did know as he swept away their glasses with the same magic that had summoned them. Narcissa looked thoroughly rattled now and was on the point of bolting out the back way when Roderick grabbed her arm and looked at her very carefully, his charm working its own enchantment.
“It will be all right,” he said, his calmness proving infectious, as Narcissa stopped and looked at him. “I will get rid of them. I suggest you two go upstairs and wait.”
Maeve glanced towards the hallway, knowing that to get to the stairs they would have to pass the frosted glass of the front door. As she started to point this out to Roderick he tipped his wand in the direction of one of the bookcases and Maeve raised an impressed eyebrow as a hole in the wall appeared, leading to a dusty, dark staircase. They scooted up without another word, Maeve leading the way to an upper floor that was as dank as the ground one.
As the staircase gave way to a low-ceilinged landing they both hesitated, but it was Narcissa who made the first move. She walked straight to the end of the hallway and opened one of the caramel-coloured doors, giving Maeve a haughty look in the process.
“In here,” she said. “The back bedroom is furthest away from the front door and if necessary we can always escape through the window.”
Maeve held her arms tight to her body as she moved down the fusty passage. The walls bowed out, their paper covered in a strange, dull mould that smelled of boiled cabbages and wet dog. The room that Narcissa had disappeared into was indeed a bedroom, and a surprisingly clean one at that. Instead of the usual coating of dirt, here was a bright, well-lit room with clean linen on its small, single bed. Pretty curtains hung at windows that appeared to have been cleaned sometime this century, unlike all the other windows in the house. Narcissa flopped down on the bed and reached towards the tiny bedside table, opening a drawer and taking out a small bottle of perfume.
“This house always makes my nostrils feel they are under siege,” she said, giving a quick squirt of the iridescent liquid. Instantly it gave off a smell that made Maeve feel a little sick but the odour seemed to calm Narcissa, a smile of contentment softening the hard-faced woman. “Severus made it for me.” There was a slight hesitation over the ‘for me’ but Maeve chose to ignore the whole thing. She didn’t really want to know why Narcissa was so very at home here; the answers would probably have been too painful for her to hear.
They heard nothing from below until the front door crashed closed and the sound of Roderick’s hurried footsteps could be heard coming up the main stairs. Maeve was torn between staying where she was in case there was anyone with him and rushing out to find out who the visitor was. It was the sickly smell coming from Narcissa that finally made her step towards the door; she couldn’t understand how Severus could have created something that smelled so nauseating. She opened it to find Roderick stretching out a hand for the doorknob; his face was slightly flushed from the exertion.
“I can’t believe that stupid rodent sometimes,” he said. “Apparating into a street that could have been full of bloody Muggles. How careless can a wizard get?”
“What did Pettigrew want?” Narcissa asked, standing behind Maeve in a cloud of alarm.
“Calm down,” Roderick grinned, before wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He just wanted to see if Snape had returned here. I told him I was here working for the Ministry; he always was a bit too ready to believe what people told him. Never crossed his mind that I was no longer Voldemort’s favourite person. Of course the minute he gets back then Voldemort is going to be none too pleased that I’m sniffing around.”
“We need to get out.” Maeve looked anxiously down the corridor. “Once Voldemort knows you are here he’s going to send someone.”
“You do have a point,” Roderick said, a note of regret in his voice. “It would have been a nice bolt hole for awhile but plans change. I daresay we’d better get you to the Ministry now so they can have a chat with you. It’ll be the safest place for the time being.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? I can’t go to the Ministry now… not after your little stunt at the cottage. They’ll be even more suspicious of me now than they were before.”
Narcissa stifled a slight snigger as she pushed past and left the relative freshness of the bedroom. “I’d offer to let you stay at Malfoy Manor but I think it might upset you, given that your own house burned to the ground.”
“My house is still standing, Abbeylara was no longer my home. Unlike some, I don’t need large rooms and expensive furnishings to feel comfortable.”
“I know, peasants require few creature comforts. You probably wouldn’t appreciate the quality anyway.”
“I appreciated the quality in Severus, many times.” Maeve was happy to see the dart gouge its way into Narcissa; her blond hair fell across a face that was pink with resentment.
“You two are highly entertaining; perhaps you should consider forming an act. I still have contacts in the entertainment world and could get you lots of work.” Roderick’s appreciation was entirely lost on the two witches, who didn’t see any humour in the situation.
“I’ll get my broom,” he said as they scowled at him. “Time to make our exit. How did you get here?” he asked Narcissa.
“I Apparated. I’ll go back the same way.” She turned her back to them and began to walk down the corridor.
“Narcissa, wait.” Maeve was soft as she spoke, feeling that there was still something unsaid between them. Narcissa did wait, pausing before turning back, her face tight with unresolved fears. “What will you do about Draco?”
“What can I do? I will wait for Severus to bring him home. We will see how things are when that happens.”
“What if… what if that never happens. What if Severus doesn’t bring him home?” Maeve hadn’t intended to sound quite so uncertain but she allowed the first sting of doubt to enter her mind. However sure she was of Severus’ innocence, she still couldn’t be certain that Voldemort would not exact some kind of punishment on both Severus and Draco. She just had to get to him before anyone else did.
“Then I will go and look for him. Severus will keep him safe.” The blind faith that Narcissa displayed made her feel fleetingly ashamed of her own doubts.
“I will deal with the Ministry and then I will go looking for my husband. If you know anything, anything at all that will help me I would expect you to tell me.” Her re-doubled, flint-edged resolve made Narcissa hesitate in her answer.
“Why should I…” she began.
“Because if I find my husband I will also find your son! Surely you can see that through your blinkered eyes? I will come to Malfoy Manor when the Ministry release me. Expect my visit and do not try to prevent it. Do you understand?”
“The Ministry might have something to say about that,” Roderick interjected. “I can’t imagine they will let you go running around the country. They will want to monitor your movements.”
“They can’t prevent me from visiting an old friend, now can they?” She gave a disgusted glance at Narcissa. “I can feign a friendship if necessary… mammoth task though it may be.”
Narcissa opened and closed her mouth rapidly. She had said and heard enough and just wanted to get out of all these memories. With a curt nod she headed for the stairs and was gone with a swirl of her dark cloak.
“And now we have to work out how to get you back to the Ministry,” Roderick grinned. “I don’t fancy another long broom ride with a passenger so it will probably have to be a Portkey.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a new voice carried down the unending gloom towards them.
They both turned in the direction of the bristling light that filled the corridor with reluctant energy to see the softly glowing figure of her father standing at the head of the stairs.
“I think I can arrange to get my daughter to London, Mr. Rampton, if you would care to leave us alone.”
Roderick blinked slowly in the face of such mercurial magnificence and for once he was speechless. Not one to kid himself, he knew when he was in the presence of something that could easily see through whatever web he was weaving. With a quick bow of his head he accepted Lugh’s instructions and patted Maeve’s hand.
“Chin up, my lovely. I’ll catch up with you in London, and don’t worry… I’ll spin them a line about why you were with me. They won’t think you were off being a naughty girl.”
“You will do no such thing, young man.” Lugh’s voice was firm. “You will leave the fate of Maeve to me and to the people who will ensure her freedom. You have meddled enough.”
“But really, I think that an explanation from me would…”
“I said enough,” Lugh repeated, and there was no room for further discussion in his steeled words. “Go back to wherever it is you can do the least damage. If my daughter needs you then she will seek you out.”
“Very well, if that’s the way you want it,” Roderick said, accepting defeat. He strode past Lugh, his dark hair reddened by the light that came from the sun-strobed man. As he clattered down the stairs he grumbled under his breath, words than neither Maeve nor her father caught.
“So, child. Things have been difficult?”
She nodded, glum confusion pulling her head up and down. Part of her was glad to see her father, but she knew there was a graver reason for him contacting her than merely helping out his troubled child, and that reason was soon revealed.
“You know I need to return something to you. The time has come. I had intended to visit you next week but after what has happened I think we should pursue a more expeditious course of action.” His fair eyes contained a degree of sadness.
“I understand,” she said, wishing she didn’t. “Do you have it with you?”
“Of course.” He reached into his heavy woollen cloak and pulled forth the craftsmanship that was the necklace she had last seen in Grimmauld Place when things had been so much more straightforward. “Turn around.”
She obeyed his instruction and shivered as he swept the hair from her neck and drew the necklace around her parian skin. With a jolt that made her veins heavy the two ends of the gold were joined, trapping her back into her fate. No one had ever placed the necklace around her neck before and it felt different, more purposeful, more real.
He turned her round to face him and smiled down into her uneasy eyes.
“Trust in him,” he said, his advice certain.
“I do, I do trust him, but it’s so hard to understand why…. So unbearable to feel the loss of him.”
“I know, child, I know it is. But you have borne his loss before and you will bear it now. Have a little faith in the strength of your bond and accept what life has for you. And when you do find him, please do not judge him too harshly… we all have sorrows to burden ourselves with and Severus is no different.”
Maeve fought the tears, fought the pain and the urge to blame her father for everything. She fought her own feelings of jealousy and her hatred for Narcissa. She waged war on the need to rail at Lugh for only telling her half-tales. But most of all she fought the feeling that she could simply return to Carrowdore Cottage, pull the curtains and sink into a mire of obscurity that would shield her from further hurt and heartache. She had managed it before at Abbeylara. How difficult would it be to do it again?
“You realise that Carrowdore holds no comfort for you now,” Lugh reminded her gently. “You will see him everywhere. His presence will permeate everything and will allow you no rest. Would you put aside what you must do for empty-handed comfort?”
“No.” It was a small word for such a monumental decision.
“Good.” Lugh gave a nod that suggested he had never experienced a moment’s doubt over her tenacity. With a shake of his cloak and an aura of action descending around him he moved towards her. “The time has come to leave this place. Severus will tell you about it in time; he had his reasons for keeping this from you.”
“I can imagine,” she mumbled, visions of Narcissa perched on the edge of the cream-coloured bedspread in the room behind her stumbled into her mind.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Maeve,” he warned. “Come, take my hand and we’ll do what needs to be done in the yard below, ugly though the place may be.”
“What needs to be done?” she questioned, placing her small hand within the warmth of his paternal one.
“You will discover a new way to fly,” he smiled. “I think you’ll like it.”
Intrigued, Maeve walked with him through the dreary building and out into the greying day. Clouds sagged over the clot of houses, threatening to sluice themselves over the murk below. Lugh surveyed the jumbled discharge of human existence with distaste, stepping carefully between the broken and the discarded.
“You know your ancestry?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” she replied. “How could I not know what you come from?”
“That’s good,” he nodded. “You know how the Danaan survived?”
“They became one with their surroundings, formed themselves into the earth beneath their feet. They inhabit the mounds and the trees, the oceans and the rivers. They gave up life above the earth for life within it.” As always, when she thought of her forefathers, she felt a shiver of awe.
“They did indeed, and they made the island all the richer for it. However in recent times they have released themselves from the confines of the earth and have come to inhabit the air too.”
Maeve regarded him, curiosity clinging to the worry on her face.
“It does not take a great leap of the mind for a person with the spirit of the Danaan flowing through their veins to learn this skill. You already have the shape shifters gift, so making yourself dissolve into the air should be nothing for you.”
“You expect me to be able to dissolve into the air?” She looked openly stunned. “I couldn’t do that; that’s impossible magic.”
“You couldn’t do it if you were human but you forget, there is half of my spirit in you. We will travel to London together, through the air that surrounds us. My presence will make it easier for you to achieve the undertaking.”
He took her hand calmly and smiled into the day, ignoring the sullen rat that tore through the grey slops at their feet. “Empty your mind of everything but the air that you breathe,” he instructed. “Feel the weightlessness of the atoms that spin and form around you. Become those atoms.”
Maeve concentrated her mind, allowing it to slip into a freefall of abandonment as she closed her eyes to the world that she knew. Just as she felt herself lift and drift into the dampness of the day she realised with horror that she hadn’t asked him how to reform, or even how to direct herself through the air in this state. Her last cumbersome thought was of being stuck as a pile of particles floating free for evermore and the thought was not unpleasant.
Her head ached, a thunderous weight that was pulling her down, down towards something solid that she knew would bind her with gravity. And then her father was smiling at her as they stood in a rain-wet street, droplets of water clinging to their hair. It took her a moment to drift back into her limbs but when she did she smiled properly for the first time since Remus had knocked on her door that morning.
“That was amazing!” she breathed. “The most incredible thing ever… and have I always been able to do that?”
“Always, you just needed a helping hand.” He smiled to see the happiness and then immediately took it from her by pointing towards the telephone box that would lead them to the Ministry and to whatever mad fate the officials would decree for her. “I think we had better face your accusers.”
They walked together, rays of damp sunshine in a dreary city, and stepped into the glass and metal of the red telephone box. It was Lugh who dialled and announced their intentions and it was Lugh who dismissed the Hit Wizards that were assembled in the foyer, waiting for this master criminal with bedraggled hair and a soggy cloak of doubt around her.
With most of the drama removed from the situation, they were taken to an office that seemed to be miles from the foyer. They walked through twisting tunnels with memos fluttering through them and they wormed their way through the building until the stentorian old wizard that had led them there stopped by a small, watery-blue door and rapped on it loudly with his red knuckles. When a voice called ‘enter’ he placed a beefy hand on the door and gave it a firm push, allowing them a view of the insipid room beyond.
Lugh allowed Maeve to go ahead of him and followed her in, dismissing the bothersome wizard with a forced smile.
Maeve found herself looking directly into the concerned eyes of the Minister for Magic herself. Amelia Bones sighed as she stood up, crossing the room to shake Lugh’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lamfada… I’ve heard great things about the work your people do in preserving the old magic, very impressive. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances than the one we find ourselves facing today.”
“So do I, Amelia, so do I. Shall we sit?” Lugh took gentle control of proceedings, ushering his daughter towards one of the wooden chairs that stood to attention by the vast desk.
“Please do,” she said before walking back to her own side of the desk.
There was a pause as they all waited to see who would speak first. Maeve found the easiest thing to do was to look at her feet while she waited for the Minister to go on the offensive. Amelia looked uncomfortable with this. She had liked Maeve when they had last met and was surprised that such an astute witch should have attempted an escape from Lupin and the other two Aurors. Surely she knew how bad that would make her look? The Minister gave a weak smile before tucking a strand of greying hair back under her hat.
“My daughter is not a criminal,” Lugh began. “You need to look to one of your own people for the reason she was taken from her home this morning.”
“Oh?” Amelia raised a surprised eyebrow.
“I suggest you watch Roderick Rampton very carefully, very carefully indeed. However he can attest that there was nothing suspicious about her actions.”
“Can Maeve not speak for herself?” Amelia asked, looking to the damp witch with appealing eyes. Maeve looked up and wondered what she would want to know, beyond the obvious. “What do you have to say about the events of this morning?”
“Roderick did indeed take me from my home, but there was no malice intended. I think he wanted me to catch my breath before I came to London. He knew the reaction I would provoke, you see. I think he wanted to protect me from that.” Her voice was small but true.
“I believe Remus Lupin tried the same tactic with you. Did he not offer you some time to gather yourself?” Amelia leant forward on the walnut desk; eager for answers she could believe.
“Yes, yes he did. Perhaps Roderick was not aware of that. Either way, I did not fly off to find my husband; I have no idea where my husband is or what he was doing in London last night. All of this is just as much a shock to me as it is to you. My main concern now is to find Severus” “ Amelia winced slightly at the name “ “and discover why he did what he did. There will be a perfectly good explanation… he did not murder Dumbledore.”
The other witch drew in her breath sharply and frowned. She had not been expecting such obstinacy from this young woman, although she understood how difficult it must be to accept one’s husband had done something of this magnitude.
“But, Maeve, he did kill Dumbledore and I can think of nothing that would justify his actions. Can you?”
“Dumbledore asked him to do it. You can see that from the transcript.”
“Professor Dumbledore pleaded for his life?” Amelia queried, shocked at what was being suggested.
They went round in circles for the next hour as Maeve defended Severus and Amelia tried to make her see that the situation was clear-cut and that they needed to bring the fugitive in. Amelia was trying to convert Maeve to their way of thinking in the hope that she would make it easier for them to arrest Severus. Surely the wife would know where the husband would run to? But it became clear, as the interview progressed, that Maeve really did have no idea where her husband was and that there was little point in continuing with this. Through it all Lugh kept his own counsel, listening to the fervent defence his daughter was putting up for her husband and admiring the depth of her feeling. As he felt the interview draw to its close he finally spoke.
“I think, Minister, that you would do well to listen to what Maeve has to say. There is a germ of truth in many things that we would not care to contemplate. I think you should take no hasty action and make every effort to find out the real truth of the matter before condemning.”
“I can assure you…” Amelia sat back in her chair with a pained expression.
“Good,” Lugh cut in. “I am glad I have your assurances. Now, if that is all I shall find my daughter some accommodation and we will take our leave of you.”
“Maeve already has the offer of accommodation,” Amelia said, making Maeve look at her with surprise. “Harry Potter has kindly offered you the use of his house. He informed me that you knew where it was.”
Whatever Maeve had expected Harry to do it was not this. She had imagined Harry would loathe her with everything he could muster and yet here he was offering his house to her. The thought of walking into the place with all those people watching her, judging her and Severus… was something she wasn’t sure she could cope with. It was bad enough having Remus looking at her with questions and doubts flitting through his mind. She couldn’t imagine the likes of the Weasleys and the other Order members bearing down on her with their mistrust.
“I don’t know… “ she said.
“He assures me that the house will be comfortable for you,” Amelia said, relaying the message exactly as it had been given. “You are not to worry about there being too many people there.”
“Well,” she hesitated, the thought of even Harry being there making her very uncomfortable. “I suppose.”
“Good, that’s settled then,” Amelia said, happy that she would be somewhere that she could be kept an eye on, even if it was by a seventeen-year-old schoolboy. “I’ll arrange for an escort to take you as far as you need them to.”
“Is Remus here?” Maeve asked. “He could take me all the way.” She needed to see Remus alone, needed to explain what Roderick had done.
“Yes, I believe Mr. Lupin is still in the building. Let me go and have someone find him and then you can be on your way.” With a look of relief Amelia left the room, glad to be out from under the baleful glare of a woman looking for answers that she could not provide.
Left alone together, Lugh began to make his farewells. Maeve was sorry to see him go, knowing that it could be a long time before she saw him again. The reason now had been the necklace; the next time might well be after she had done with the necklace and she had no idea how far in the future that would be.
As he stood to leave he hugged her one last time and reiterated his advice about Severus. Once again he implored Maeve to trust in her husband and once again she nodded and said she did, aware as she did so that she was about to face a world that now hated her husband and would do all it could to destroy her trust. As he stepped from the room she felt the bitter grip of reality take her by the hand. There would be nowhere to hide now, nowhere that her story would be believed, unless she counted Malfoy Manor…and Maeve was counting on Malfoy Manor giving up some of its secrets via the lady of the house.
The door opened reluctantly and revealed Remus’ weary figure, his hand raking through thinning hair. She made no rush to hold him, or he her. The wall that Roderick had constructed by taking her from Carrowdore was between them and around them, binding them in its bricks of mistrust. Maeve was the first to chip away at the barrier, her sorrow evident in her tone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t go of my own free will, Remus. It was Roderick Rampton, he took me.”
“But you didn’t return immediately,” Remus replied, bleak streaks of pain on his face. “You didn’t send word to me.”
“No, I didn’t. I was discovering things that perhaps should have been left undiscovered. I always planned on coming back… I have to come back to prove… well… you know what I have to do.”
“I know what you feel you have to do,” Remus said, careful to stress the difference. “But for now I think we should get you to Grimmauld Place and take stock of the situation. There is much you need to prepare yourself for, much you need to accept if you are to consider returning to Hogwarts at the start of term.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of going back to Hogwarts at all,” she said, her insides going cold at the very thought of entering Dumbledore’s school.
“The school is two teachers down; it needs as much help as it can get,” he said.
“Two teachers?”
“Professor McGonagall, who will take Dumbledore’s place, and Severus.”
“Oh, yes.” She was flustered. In her mind some things were still as they always had been. Severus would be at the school, scratching away with a quill in his dungeon… but that was impossible and she felt regret at her own decision to leave. “But I can’t go back, Remus. It wouldn’t be right for the school or for me.”
“I think you should consider it carefully before tendering your resignation. You know you will receive the full support of the teaching staff.” Remus looked hopeful as she got up from her chair.
“There is a difference between outward support and sly whisperings, you should know all about that. I’ll also need my time free for other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like finding my husband, because at this point I don’t think he’s going to come looking for me, do you? Come on; let’s get started for Grimmauld Place before my nerve fails me.”
“It will be all right,” Remus said, offering her the only crumb of comfort he could, although the words rang hollow to them both. “We’ll walk; it’s not far.”
Maeve found herself wanting to disappear into the ether again, shake off the chains of her body and float away. She smiled at the memory of her newfound ability and walked from the Ministry with Remus’ strong, fraternal arm guiding her along. Reckless disregard for safety saw them move through the busy London streets towards the faded dignity of the square of houses where Harry lived and where the Order of the Phoenix had its headquarters. Maeve wondered what would happen to the Order now its leader was gone but she didn’t like to ask. No doubt Remus was asking those very questions himself and had no answers. So many things had no answers, life was a huge question from start to finish and those that received their answers were the fortunate ones.
It was still raining when they turned into Grimmauld Place, a thin mizzle that soaked everything with its relentlessness. Maeve wore Remus’ thick cloak over her own, although she had argued against this but the worn out wizard was ever-chivalrous. She hadn’t expected it to be so painful, so filled with stark memories that replayed in black and white against the backdrop of her heart. She recalled, reflected and refused to cry. Maeve would not meet Harry with the streaks of her sorrow on her face, nor would she appear weak before anyone. If she was to convince them of Severus’ innocence she must be unbending in her self-possession.
“Here we are,” Remus said, more to break the silence than indicate their arrival. “Let’s see who’s at home.”
As the door appeared before them, its paint still flaking and tired, she stuck her chin up and gathered herself for what might come. Remus was strong beside her, gripping her elbow as if he believed she would bolt from the confrontation. Remus knew this had to be done but he dreaded it all the same. The door creaked inward and Harry’s pinched face peered at them through the steady mist. Where once there would have been delight there was now a dead hunger for news. Where once there would have been a spark of welcome there was now just the cold resignation to the world and to her.
For a moment it didn’t seem as though Harry would speak as he hovered in the doorway but then he appeared to gather his wits and spoke in a hoarse croak.
“Remus, Maeve, you made it.” Green gashes appraised her, ripping at her to get to the secrets she may have held. “Come in.”
He stepped back, bowed by what had happened, crumbling beneath the weight of his mentor’s death. They progressed, funeral-like, through to the drawing room and Maeve was heartened by the silence that prowled the house. Too many faces would bring with them too many things to say and be said in return; too many people brought memories along, shadows sewn to their feet that whispered of something that could not be revisited.
“Harry,” she said. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Harry said, bleakness spilling from his skin. “It’s Snape who has the apology to make, if I give him the time to make it.”
“Harry,” Maeve tried to pacify but she soon realised that Harry was implacable in his vehement hatred of Severus.
“When I see him next I will kill him,” he growled, the ferocity of his grief making him sound older and more dangerous than she had thought possible. “Make no mistake… either of you. Snape is a dead man when he next crosses my path.”
“There is nothing to be gained from talking that way,” Remus said. “It is better to have him judged properly than threaten revenge like this.”
“He didn’t judge Dumbledore, did he?” Harry looked to them to disagree and Maeve was almost about to launch into her defence of her husband but Remus touched her arm, gaining her attention.
“Not now,” he said in a murmur. “It’s too soon.”
She considered ignoring him, but eventually bit her lip and kept quiet. She needed a calm Harry to tell her what really happened and what they had been up to that night.
“Molly left some sandwiches,” Harry said, changing the subject with breathtaking speed. “Would you like some?”
Maeve shook her head and Remus followed suit. “I think I’d like to talk to you about some things, Harry, but not now.”
“No, you’re right,” Harry agreed, recognising that if they spoke of Dumbledore they would be too close to the previous night to do so rationally. “I’ll be in my room if anyone wants me. Professor McGonagall is calling round later to discuss… to discuss the funeral. You’ll be invited, despite…well…despite, you know.”
Maeve nodded, knowing she would not go. It would hurt too many people to have such a glaring reminder of Severus at the service. Harry left in a flurry of misery and Maeve turned to Remus, sick to her soul of the whole sorry mess.
“It’s all so damaged,” she said. “It’s beyond repair, Remus. What am I going to do?”
“You’ll be strong,” Remus said supportively, rubbing her arm.
“I might not be though. I may be brittle and break.”
Remus enfolded her into protective arms and wondered too if she would get through. He felt the presence of the necklace beneath her clothing and knew that the problems were stacking up for her, creating a tower of struggle that could fall at any moment. He could only offer up a silent prayer that she would see this through, and he secretly prayed that she was right about Severus, that there was something more than just cold-blooded murder at the heart of what had happened to Dumbledore.