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Sinister Papaya Fondue
Author of 9 Stories |
"We'll worry about that later," Draco Malfoy said, his voice sharp and commanding. "If this muggle has information about my father it's worth the risk."
"You say that now," Cyrus grumbled, "but when we have a thousand reporters and their helicopters bearing down on us…"
"It's not going to happen," Dawn spoke up, annoyed.
Cyrus gave up. Muttering to himself, he altered the wards with Essah. "All right," he said in a clipped voice, "you can pass."
The dark-skinned wizard was the first to move. He was not tall but not short, with a neat beard and a proud bearing. "Come, Cecil," he said, beckoning, "it's all right."
The muggle, a taller man with a blond comb-over and ruddy skin, stepped forward hesitantly. He jumped as the wards scanned him and several people had to stifle laughter behind their hands. The joke at his expense was short-lived; his wizard companion shot them a cold look and somehow they all felt chastened.
"What in the hell?" the muggle, Cecil, stated.
"Questions later, my friend," the wizard said. "My name is Mehmet. I am an excavator at Troy and incidentally, I also do security at the School of Divination."
"Troy?" Draco said. "As in…The Iliad and Achilles and Trojan horses?"
Hermione glanced at him. She wouldn't have expected Malfoy to be familiar with the writings of a muggle, even if Homer was an exceptional one. Maybe he, too, had done his research before he came to Greece.
"That's the one," Mehmet said with a brief smile. "This is Cecil, an associate of mine." Cecil raised a nervous hand in greeting. He still looked completely out of sorts, but he was handling it better than some might have.
"So you have information about my father?" Draco pressed.
Mehmet nodded. "Are you planning on interrogating us right here?" His question held equal parts amusement and challenge. He was calling them on their rudeness.
Hermione saw Draco's fists clench at his sides. He wanted no part in protocol. She could tell that he didn't like Mehmet. Draco never liked anyone who could stay calm in the face of things that sent him into shambles. She glanced at Severus. His face was blank but his eyes were rapidly sizing their visitors up.
"I'm sure we can get these men a drink," Dawn said diplomatically. "Come with me." The two men followed her down the sandy shore. Severus shook his head as Cecil nearly tripped, so distracted was he by the things he was seeing. Hermione squeezed his hand; he returned to her and offered a faint smile.
Draco had already stalked past him, as had Cyrus and Essah, the former still cursing under his breath about security breaches. They were alone.
Though reality had descended, her body was still tight and warm in all the places he'd been. Hermione had no time to process what had happened; Draco had literally knocked on the door less than five minutes after they'd reached their sweaty completion. She was staring into his eyes, dark and depthless and surprisingly vulnerable, feeling him throb inside her…
She bit her lip. She liked sex. Who didn't, when it was done right? But Hermione had never been the sort of person who needed it all the time. Once in a while her body reminded her that it had base instincts, thank you very much, and she would act on them if it was possible. Usually that was enough. Usually.
Right now, in spite of their visitors and whatever news they bore, she wanted to do it again. She had not had the time to look at him, touch him, find out what pleased him…and she didn't regret their haste, but she longed to have the time alone to do those things. Hermione didn't want to admit it, yet part of her knew what had driven that haste. With things the way they were, it was likely that they'd have very little time for this fledgling relationship. She knew that that was half the reason he'd given in to her advances – it was half the reason she'd made them.
She turned toward him. The fact that he hadn't moved meant that he, too, was lost in thought. She reached up and touched his face. He disguised a slight start and met her eyes.
Hermione wanted to say something. She wanted to speak words of comfort, of seduction, of anything…but her mind and her mouth would not cooperate. His eyes seemed to know this. It was she who had to disguise a start when his hands came up to her face and his lips descended upon hers.
His kiss was slow and deliberate. His lips plied hers, teasing, asking. He was a good kisser, that much she'd come to know. There was something different in this kiss, though; something heavier, something more meaningful. Something that made her knees unreliable.
His arms snuck around her, pulling her against his body. She could still feel his heartbeat, not yet calm from their previous lovemaking. A surge of arousal hit her and she parted her lips with a helpless little moan. My God…she would never have predicted that Severus Snape would be the man to turn her legs to jelly and her loins into a conflagration of want.
His tongue dipped between her lips, seeking its counterpart. His every move seemed calculated to undo her. Though she could tell that it was undoing him as well; his body was stirring against her and the tickle of his breath came faster.
He broke the kiss a moment later. She leaned against his chest, breathless. If she was not mistaken, that had been a promise. A promise that they would one day have the time to explore each other properly, but now was not that time.
She felt his chin resting lightly on the crown of her head. His hand was gently fisted in the curls at the back of her neck. Any question she might have had about this, about him, evaporated. Moments like this, where words and minds were flummoxed in the face of sheer rightness, were few and far between in life.
She was standing on a beach in Greece, curled in the arms of Severus Snape. A sliver of moonlight illuminated them and the stars were bright in the wake of the city's unresolved blackout. The ocean lapped at the shore, soft and insistent; it formed the sound of the white noise inside her brain.
He was man she had once known and was coming to know again by a different route. A man who had, in the past, frustrated her to no end. Now he was provoking a different kind of frustration in her. It went to show just how much things had changed. The world had taken much from her but now it seemed that in this enigmatic lover it was paying her back for her patient endurance.
She looked up at him. His eyes were far away. For a moment she wished that she had learned Legilimency. In his unguarded eyes she saw a hundred things; fear, pain, uncertainty, defiance, resolve. She realized how little she really knew about him. What sparked those things? What storms went on in his brain?
He registered that she was observing him and slipped back from whatever place he'd gone. Severus looked down at her. Hermione once again felt the urge to speak. However, she didn't trust what might tumble out. So she stared at him, not realizing that her mouth was hanging open.
He touched her cheek and said softly, "Use your words, my dear."
She wanted to hit him and embrace him at the same time. An absurd smile found its way onto her face. Hermione laughed, unsure why tears had sprung into her eyes. She sniffled once and swiped at her eyes.
"I just hope you can back up the claims of that kiss," she goaded.
He fought a smile. "Hermione, I would throw you down right now, but…"
But there were more important things at hand. She nodded. They had to resume normal life – that life where they were colleagues in the middle of a big pantheonic mess. Still, they would not grudge her holding his hand on the walk back to the camp…if he let her.
He did. He even lifted their hands to kiss the back of her palm at one point. But when they got closer his fingers untwined from hers and his whole demeanor changed. Severus Snape was ready for business.
She sighed internally. He was so used to being two different things at once. He had already exceeded her expectations, cracking easily and allowing himself to enter into an undefined relationship with a former student. Snape was changing even now. Still, it would be a long, long time before he was comfortable letting the rest of the world lay eyes on his affairs. She was going to have to try very hard not to be offended by that. It wasn't because he was ashamed of her…
Hermione took a cleansing breath and steeled herself. The romantic interlude was over.
"I must hand it to you," the man said, stroking his chin. "You have really worked your magic on them."
The woman turned to him. He would never cease to be struck by her beauty; even he wasn't immune to the charms of Aphrodite. She smiled and shook her head.
"Ares, I had nothing to do with this."
His face registered his doubt. "You're lying."
"No. They found each other."
He couldn't help it; he was a cynic. "There's no way she would give a man like him the time of day, short of your intervention."
Aphrodite snorted at him. As undignified as it was, she could do it in a way that was attractive. "You only focus on looks, Ares, and that's your problem."
"You're lucky you look the way you do, or else I wouldn't put up with you," he grumbled. They both knew he wasn't serious. "But if it's not them you're toying with, then why are you coming down here?"
She frowned. "You know how sometimes a man searches so long and hard for the right person that when he finds them, he doesn't even know it? Or maybe he doesn't even realize he's looking?"
"No," he said sarcastically. She sometimes went on tangents like this and he had found that it was best to ignore them. He knew war. The workings of love didn't compute.
"All right. Then do you know how sometimes two people are perfect for each other, and everyone else can see it except them?"
"No. Love is not that complicated. Either you are or you aren't and if it passes you by it's your own damn fault!"
"You're an idiot," she responded. "Go talk to Athena about battleaxes or something."
"Nick," he whispered hoarsely. "Nick!"
Nick didn't move. The thought of him possibly being dead or very badly injured made its way into his brain. It overrode his control and he felt saliva filling his mouth. He was going to be sick.
He was a moment later, turning away from his friend. There wasn't much in his stomach but that didn't stop his body from trying its damnedest to flush it out. When the heaving subsided he shakily wiped his mouth.
"Sorry about that," a voice echoed sharply in the room, bombarding his ears. "Some people don't respond well to the tranquilizers."
Anatole tried to see his visitor – his captor – but the room was dark and his vision was still not cooperating. His stomach didn't feel any better, either. He felt like vomiting again.
"What did you do to him?" he managed, gesturing at Nick.
"Nothing. He'll wake up soon."
"Nothing?" Anatole demanded. He held up his hands. They were bound together tightly with a thick plastic fastening ring. "This isn't nothing!"
"It will be nothing if all goes to plan."
"What plan?" Anatole struggled to his knees. "We aren't going to be part of any plan!"
The man stepped forward suddenly and Anatole recoiled, instinctually recognizing aggression. That reaction saved him from the man's fist. The man was still, looking him straight in the face. Though the edges of his eyes were still blurred, Anatole could see him now. He was some interesting mix of ethnicities, his skin dark but freckled, with dark blue eyes that slanted slightly.
The stalemate lasted only a moment. Anatole had nowhere to go and the other man knew it. He lashed out again and this time he made contact. It was too painful to be his fist. As Anatole hit the ground he realized it was the butt of a gun. The warm creeping sensation on his temple told him that it had drawn blood.
The man cocked the gun at his face. "Any more questions or grand declarations, Mr. Vasoulas?"
Anatole considered kicking him or spitting on him. He was brave enough to do it. Still, this man looked much too comfortable with a gun in his hand and he knew that in situations like this they always took two people for a reason. One hostage was disposable. Anatole closed his eyes and shook his head.
Live today, fight tomorrow, he thought. If we can…
My smile fades when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone is here. I can't turn to see who it is. I seek control and clutch it.
The intruder doesn't waste time. A form comes into view, shrouded in a silver-grey cloak. Delicate hands push the hood back. My eyes widen; she is beautiful. Her features bear a strong resemblance to someone else - Apollo. She is like all of him made feminine. Except for that regal arrogance; that is the same.
"Artemis?"
She smiles so briefly that I think I might have imagined it. "They are coming with Veritaserum."
Of course they are. I'm almost relieved. With the Veritaserum they'll realize that I don't know what they think I do. Although that would render me useless; that could end badly. I frown. Artemis reaches into her sleeve and pulls something out. It is a tiny sachet.
"If you eat this you will be able to resist its effects."
"Why do I need to?" I ask. "I don't know what they think I know!"
"Yes you do," she replies. "They want to know the location of your dig. The location of the school."
My face falls. Shit, I do know that. "What do they want from the school?" My eyes narrow. "You're keeping things from me."
She looks annoyed. "Are you going to eat it or not?"
I sigh. I won't get any answers from her. This does let me know, however, that there is something hugely important in that school. If these people have designs on it, it puts every person there in danger.
"Fine. Yes."
She hurriedly opens the sachet. Inside it is a paper thin slice of something the color of honey. It is only slightly bigger than her thumbnail. She places it on the pad of her pointer finger and starts to bring it toward my mouth. It feels strange to be fed like this, but my odd discomfort is banished when it touches my tongue.
It's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Sweeter than Dawn's – no, I won't go there. Not now. My mouth is overwhelmed. It feels the way it does when you eat something extremely sour, only there is nothing sour about this. It lasts only a few seconds. The heady aftertaste lingers and I blink away mysterious, reflexive tears.
"What was that?" I manage. My head is spinning.
"Ambrosia."
I scrabble for coherent thoughts. I remember some mythology. Enough to know that ambrosia was the food of the gods and that if mortals were exposed to it, it made them immortal. That was the blessing and the curse of Achilles; his mother had dipped him in ambrosia, making him impervious to death everywhere except the ankle she held him by. Slytherins appreciate that kind of irony.
"Does that mean…?" I ask, dazed. I am no Voldemort. I don't want to be immortal. I don't trust myself not to stray back into madness in the grip of forever. And as horrifically sentimental as it is, I also don't want to watch the few people I care about grow old and die, leaving me with no one.
"No," she says slowly. Her flawless face is thoughtful. "It will make you immune to any magic for a time."
I nod, more relieved than I can express. She smiles at me in earnest this time. I think that somehow I've gained her favor. Then footsteps begin to echo outside the dingy room, moving closer with each passing second. She reaffixes her hood and makes to leave.
"Are you playing this game with the others?" I ask, flexing my hands against my bonds. No luck; they aren't magical.
The look in her eyes tells me that she knows exactly what I'm getting at. However, all she says is, "I'm a hunter, Lucius. I don't play games."
"These people were definitely after him. They didn't take anyone else. And they made a point of asking Cecil where Malfoy had come from or was trying to go to. It has something to do with this site," Mehmet concluded.
"And now they know where it is," Cyrus sighed, rubbing his temples.
Mehmet was a shrewd man; Severus suspected that if he was ever sorted he'd end up in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He confirmed this a moment later when he asked, "What do you have here that they want?"
Everyone was silent. Only he and Cyrus knew the answer to that.
"It's just a school," Dawn spoke up. "We haven't found anything of note, except maybe a werewolf preserved in stasis for two thousand years."
"And an ancient pensieve," Hermione added.
"A werewolf from the time of the Greeks?" Mehmet looked floored. "It is alive?"
"Yes," Dawn answered. "She is alive."
Mehmet shook his head. "While that is amazing, I can't imagine how it would relate."
Severus felt Cyrus's eyes on him. He met them and nodded briefly. It was time to impart the secret upon a few more people. "We fear that she is exactly what they want," he spoke up softly. All eyes turned to him, Hermione's quickest of all.
"What do you mean?" Mehmet asked sharply.
"Some of us have had a look into that ancient pensieve Hermione mentioned. What we've seen inside is a war. A war that began because of a potion." Several people opened their mouths to speak at once. They were silenced with a jerk of his hand. "The original purpose of the potion was to cure lycanthropy. But the creator went too far. He…he accidentally created a potion that could strip all magic from the user."
"That's possible?" Draco asked, aghast.
"Apparently," Snape nodded gravely. "Now, this man happened to be a surrogate father to our werewolf. He was trying to cure lycanthropy because of her. Even though it would take away all her magic, he wanted her to decide whether to take it or not."
"The problem was," Cyrus stated, "that other people wanted this potion for very different reasons."
"Hence the war," Mehmet nodded.
"The point is, he told her the formulation of the potion before he died. Every other memory or record of it was erased. That werewolf is the only one who knows how to make the potion."
"How could they know about this if it was two thousand years ago?" Cecil asked. He had been lost for most of the conversation but was starting to get over his initial disbelief.
"No idea," Severus shrugged.
"But both muggles and wizards are involved?" Dawn asked, frowning.
"Yes. The force that attacked the School of Divination was composed of both."
"Why would they involve muggles?"
"That's simple," Cecil spoke up. "If I understand you correctly, muggles are people like me. People without magic." They all nodded. "Then it's obvious. You people can do magic. Magic. It seems like nothing to you, but for us…it's terrifying. You can do whatever you want to us if you feel the urge, and we'd be powerless to stop you. You're a threat."
"They can't realistically think that the wizards they are working with don't know that," Severus stated. "And we have no designs on muggle sovereignty."
Draco shot to his feet and paced. "They're both using the other. The muggles are trying to get the formula from the wizards so they can take our magic away." He glanced at Cecil. "Neutralize the threat, as you say. And the wizards are trying to use the muggles to make the potion into a weapon. That way they can take away the magic of anyone who stands up to them. They're trying to take over the world with muggles to do the dirty work."
Hermione exhaled through pursed lips. It sounded so awful when he said it like that. "That can't be true."
"I think he's right," Severus announced.
"As do I," Mehmet seconded. "It makes sense."
Draco cracked his knuckles, still nervously prowling across the sand. "If Cecil already told them about Preveza, then what do they need my father for?"
"Persuasion, of course," Mehmet replied. "Someone to exchange for the girl."
Draco sat back down and abruptly put his forehead against the table. Hermione felt like doing the same thing.
"So, sooner or later," Cyrus said, "we will have some unpleasant muggles and wizards knocking on our wards."
Dawn frowned. "We're fenced in. Either way, we lose."
"That's it," Hermione declared, thumping her palm on the table. "We have to erase Lilith's memory of the potion."
"No!" Snape exclaimed a little too quickly.
"She's right, Snape. It's too risky. That formula has already started one war," Cyrus disagreed.
"No," he repeated, shaking his head. "That formulation is the best chance we have of ever curing lycanthropy."
"There's no guarantee that it's still brewable," Hermione pointed out. "In two thousand years ingredients may have changed names or gone extinct. This might all be for nothing!" She knew he was fighting his intellectual curiosity; truth be told, she was fighting it, too. She was also sure that this was what he had meant when he said he had to tell her something. Boy was she glad they'd put it off…
"You can erase her memory," the potions master said sternly, "but only after I have heard that formula."
"That doesn't solve the problem. It only puts you in danger instead of her!"
"And they'll still want to take her. They'll still be holding my father hostage," Draco added.
Hermione bit her tongue. She wanted to remind Severus of his own words – that some things were better left undiscovered. Of course, he'd said that before he came to know that the school's great secret was a potion. If he had known it was a potion all his rhetoric about discipline and what was better would have gone out the window. Severus Snape was intrigued by the premise of such a potion existing, and if she knew him at all, he wanted to try to brew it. Improve it. Make it a true cure. And if she knew him, there would be no talking him out of it.
"I think we need Remus and Lilith out here," Dawn said. "Now."
No one disagreed.
If what Artemis said is true, the Cruciatus shouldn't do a thing to me. I won't let them know that. I can act like I'm being put through the worst pain of my life quite easily; I've experienced it before and it isn't hard go back there.
A sharp, vicious peel of pain startles me out of my planning. They've knocked the wind out of me and my mind descends into a spiral of panic. After a minute I am capable of drawing breath. Every move hurts; they may have broken a rib or two.
I catch a glimpse of Prometheus through the stocky figures of his thugs. He is watching me closely. Maybe he is surprised that I'm not putting up a fight – not that I can do much but glare at them. More likely he is wondering at my ability to take punishment. It is not something you want to have, but once you do you are glad of it.
One of them grabs me by the hair and tilts my head back. Prometheus dumps the potion down my throat. I manage to spit half of it out, but the rest is going down whether I like it or not. Coughing, I fix them with my best glare. I know the Veritaserum won't do a thing and I am going to enjoy acting my fine little arse off.
Slowly the men release me. Prometheus paces. Then, apparently deciding that enough time has gone by for the potion to go into effect, he stops in front of me.
"Where is the dig site, Malfoy?"
I know how to play this. I definitely haven't lost my touch for acting. I deserve one of those – what do the muggles call them? Ottos? Oscars? Whatever. I scrunch up my face as if I am trying very hard to resist. My body is already worked up from absorbing the most recent round of physical abuse, so the sweat and the pallor work in my favor.
"Greece," I grind out. Veritaserum has its perks, but if one asks vague questions, they get vague answers. I'm rewarded with a very unforgiving fist to the face. I can't control an exclamation of pain; he's hit me in a place that is already injured. My head swims with a wicked, throbbing agony that I feel to the roots of my teeth.
"You're clever, Malfoy, but it's not doing you any favors," he scowls. "Now, tell me the name of the city that the dig site is located in."
I hesitate a second, to see if 'Preveza' wants to come to my lips. No. I have no helpless compulsion to be truthful. I almost want to laugh. I have never been so glad to lie in my life, and that's saying a lot.
So where to send them? What lovely destination to delay their dubious purposes? It has to be in Greece. I don't know many places off the top of my head and I can't say Athens. There are too many people in Athens that Prometheus would be only too happy to kill if they stood in his way. Where, then? I suppress a smirk as it comes to me. It is time for a little payback.
"Delphi," I relent. "It's at Delphi."
Lilith had agreed to tell the formulation to Severus. They had all agreed upon erasing Lilith's memory of the formulation once this was done. Even after two thousand years she was still unsure if she wanted to take it; Remus had touted the effectiveness of Wolfsbane for the meantime. It made sense. Though Lilith was a witch, she had never properly learned how to defend herself and was, as such, quite vulnerable. She knew this as well as anybody.
Hermione was to assist Severus in researching if the potion could actually be made. It was dangerous and stupid and scary to even think about. Part of her hoped that it was a dead end. When she looked at Remus or Lilith, though, her conscience told her that they were worth the risk. This chance might never come again.
They had met a barrier when Lucius came up. How could they get Lucius back without giving up Lilith? Everyone was on the same page; neither was an acceptable sacrifice. Severus had pointed out that this was Lucius Malfoy they were talking about; he was a clever bastard and none of them should underestimate his ability to get himself out of trouble without any of their help. That had made them feel better for a moment, at least until Draco sullenly remarked,
"Even clever bastards get killed sometimes."
None of them could argue that.
Then Remus Lupin spoke up. "If it comes down to an exchange, you can tell them her memory has been erased and I'm the only one that knows the formula. I'll go instead of her." It had earned him several incredulous looks, most notably from Draco and Severus. "I'm serious," he went on. "I know enough about potions to delay them. I can give them one of your Wolfsbane alterations, Severus. They won't know any better."
"That still puts you in danger," Hermione said.
"Yes, but I can protect myself. And," he said, drumming his fingers on the table, "I have a built-in escape route."
"What's that?" Snape demanded.
"This last moon was the end of my Wolfsbane. I haven't taken the next dose yet. If I go with them, I'll be sure not to take it. When the moon comes in a few weeks…" he trailed off.
The stunned silence was broken by Draco. "You'd do that for my father?"
"No," Lupin replied. His eyes traveled to where Lilith slept, draped across the bench of the next picnic table. "I'd do it for her."
She tried to sleep. Severus had lain down next to her for a time. He wasn't fooling anyone, though; he didn't sleep a wink. She couldn't either. It was too hot and there was too much on her mind. Eventually he gave up and began to work on the potion in the dragon-shaped vessel.
Lilith was going to tell him the formula when she woke. The idea was for them all to recover from the long night of planning. No one thought it was odd that they were missing because no one had ventured outside; it was much too dangerous to work in this heat. Most everyone was hunkered down in their cabins doing their best to maintain cooling charms.
Severus wasn't saying much and she was surprisingly comfortable with that. The sound of his even breathing and the scrape of his tools were pleasant company. Without them it was too quiet; the heat seemed to have driven the spirit out of everything from the ocean to the sea birds that usually squawked and circled above.
Hermione sighed. Even lying perfectly still she was sweating. She turned her glance to Severus. He was as undressed as she'd ever seen him, aside from last night. He was wearing a white cotton undershirt and thin linen pants that were rolled up to his knees. His feet were bare. He had odd feet; she hadn't noticed before. They were large but narrow, with long, dextrous toes and a sprinkling of hair on top of them. As he worked he flexed and unflexed the toes on his left foot unconsciously. She wondered if he did that while brewing potions, too.
He turned to her. He always knew when he was being watched.
"You know," he said, taking in her flushed skin and the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, "you can strip down if it helps you sleep."
"Oh really?" she said playfully, rolling over onto her stomach. Her leg seemed to rise up of its own volition. "You give me permission?"
A smile ghosted across his face and he returned to his work. He said no more. In the end, Hermione did as he suggested and tossed her shorts and tank top aside. Then, nestling in the cool cotton sheets, she was able to fall asleep.
"Two…two teaspoons of saffron…stir clockwise eight times…it should turn orange."
He wrote it quickly but not so quickly that he wouldn't be able to read it later. So far this was entirely doable. Every ingredient was something he knew of and no step was beyond what he could do. Many of the core ingredients of Wolfsbane were there but with a few notable differences. He nodded, indicating that she should go on.
"A cup of diced glistrithra. Let it sit on top for ten minutes, then stir once."
Hm. That threw a wrench in the gears. He had no idea what glistrithra was.
"One leaf of a purple Evanescing Tuberose."
Damn it. He had never heard of that, either. Then again, he was no herbologist…
They both jumped badly when Cyrus tore the door open. Severus turned, ready to berate him for snapping the girl's concentration, but the look on Cyrus's face killed his rebuke.
"We have visitors," the head excavator said gravely. "Speed things up in here."
"Is Lucius with them?" Severus asked.
"We don't know. We've only just spotted them."
He took a breath. "Okay. Lilith, how much more?"
"Ten minutes," she whispered.
"And another five for the memory alteration. Keep them busy."
Cyrus nodded and disappeared.
Dawn stood in an odd but strong line with Draco, Cyrus, and Mehmet. Draco was to her left, his arms crossed and his wand ready. In spite of the harsh words he'd delivered upon arrival she found that she liked him. He had inherited all the best parts of Lucius; the sharp mind, the good looks, and that intangible sense of being untouchable. The war had made him strong. She saw in him the same thing she'd seen in Hermione; steely resolve and a promise that if you got in the way, you would not come out on the better end of the fight.
Cyrus, for all his bluster, was a welcome companion. And Mehmet gave off the aura of a man who had seen and done much, a man that they were all glad was on their side.
The wards crackled suddenly. In the fog they could make out the shape of a man. A single man with something in his hands, reaching out to prod the wards. The crackle sounded again and the wards gave off a green spark of protest. The brief light was eerie in the mist, though they were glad of it; they could barely see one another, side by side, so that meant the invaders couldn't see them at all.
"What is that in his hands?" Draco whispered. Dawn had been trying to figure that out also. It was much too big to be a wand.
"It's a gun," Mehmet returned.
"A muggle weapon?"
"Yes. It won't work against the wards," Cyrus said.
"Why the muggles?" Draco asked. "They have no chance of breaking through."
"We need to scout them," Mehmet murmured. "See how many there are and who is with them."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"Brooms. In the fog we can move right above them. They won't notice."
"That's dangerous," Dawn stated.
"Yes, but it needs to be done."
She looked at Cyrus. He hadn't volunteered for this, but he nodded his assent and said, "All right. The brooms are in the supply shed."
He cast a few quick preserving spells on the parchment. It was impervious to water, fire, and insult by hand or scissor, at least for now. Once he memorized it he fully intended to burn the scrap.
He stood and opened the door. Lupin and Hermione were waiting outside. He nodded and they came in wordlessly. Remus went to Lilith. Hermione went to Severus.
Her eyes scanned the parchment quickly. He could tell that she was cataloguing the unfamiliar, as he had. When she was finished her eyes flickered to him and then to Lilith.
"It's time, Lilith," Severus said gently.
The girl nodded. She put on a brave face, but as his wand touched her forehead, her hand reached out and found Remus Lupin's. He squeezed her hand and sighed. With a nod, he signaled for Severus to go ahead.
He jumped as a sharp sound cut through the silence, odd and muffled in the fog. Slowly, though, his tension leaked out of him. It was a cell phone. The man reached into his pocket and removed the offending device. He flipped it open, lifting it to his ear.
"Nugent."
Mehmet fought the temptation to cast a charm to enable him to hear the conversation. But as it turned out, he didn't need to. The volume on the phone and the speaker on the other side were both loud enough to carry to where he stood, breathless.
"Nugent, it's Warrick. I've got a location for you."
Nugent chuckled. "I thought you said this Malfoy fellow would take a while to break."
"Well, we have very persuasive methods. He talked."
"All right. When and where are we moving?"
"Delphi. Three days."
There was a pause. "I'll prepare my men." He closed the phone. Its light cast a small pool of luminescence in the fog.
Mehmet kicked up on the broom. He had heard enough.
"It's all muggles-"
"They're backstabbing-"
They both stopped.
"You first," Dawn said, pointing at Mehmet. He nodded.
"The muggles are acting independently of the wizards. Malfoy isn't with them."
"What do you mean?" Draco demanded.
"The wizards have your father. I overheard a phone conversation. They said Malfoy told them the site was in Delphi. So either your father has found a way to lie to them, or the wizards are trying to send the muggles on a wild goose chase."
"So the muggles are here on their own? They didn't tell the wizards the location?"
Mehmet shook his head.
"It's true," Cyrus added. "It's all muggles out there. Muggles with guns."
"They're crazy. What can they do without the wizards?" Draco asked.
"A lot, I'm afraid. They have two muggle hostages." All eyes turned to Cyrus.
"Two…muggle…" Dawn trailed off. "Oh no."
"What?" Draco said.
Dawn felt like the breath had been pulled out of her. A look at Cyrus proved it. Draco didn't get it, not yet. She ran an agitated hand through her hair and met his grey eyes.
"It's Anatole and Nick."
