'mindspeak'

Chapter Six:

Hermione blanched as Harry stepped into the Common Room that evening. He’d been avoiding everyone all day, not even going to his classes. One look at his pale face and Hermione could see why.

“Harry?” she queried softly as he flopped into a chair beside her.

“I’m fine, Hermione.” He yawned and stretched. “Just needed to do some thinking.” In his mind he continued, ‘Y’know, Snape apologised for what he said to me today – he just came right out and said it. Amazing, eh? Didn’t know the bat had it in him. Still, I did need someone to say something like that to stop myself from doing something… silly.’

Hermione noticed Harry’s left hand had sneaked over to rub at his covered forearm, and felt her blood go cold in a flash of understanding. She had always wondered how Harry had coped with Neville’s death after he closed himself off from the world. Now, she definitely did not want to know.

“Anyway,” Harry continued out loud, eyelids drooping. “What’d he do to you?”

“Oh, nothing, just gave me detention.”

Harry’s eyes opened wide. “Detention? Nothing! Who are you and what have done with Hermione Granger?”

“Oh, give it a rest, Harry,” she chuckled. “All he’s done is given me an opportunity to redo my potion at eight o’clock tonight. Do you think he has a soft spot for us?”

“Nah, couldn’t be!”

Harry didn’t get any further as, at that precise moment, there came a beseeching wail from the dorm-room. “Harry! Hermione! Heeellllllp!”

They raced up the stairs to Harry’s dorm, flung the door open, and… fell about laughing.

Ron was sitting on his bed in the empty dorm, his head completely engulfed in orange foam, which was, once more, vibrating. It appeared that this was the foam’s version of purring.

“Don’t just stand there laughing like pillocks – come and get him off me! Arnold, Arnold, down boy!”

This pronouncement just made them laugh even harder. Harry was on his knees, weakly pounding the floor with his fist, while Hermione hung onto the doorknob for dear life. At last they managed to regain control and tug ‘Arnold’ from his perch atop Ron’s head, and wrap him in a bed sheet.

“Arnold?! Seriously, Ron, why name it Arnold?” Hermione asked, holding the squirming bundle at arms’ length.

“Well, he liked words that began with ‘A’ and he didn’t seem to like the name ‘Androgen’, so I thought, why not name him Arnold?”

Hermione stared at Ron, dumbfounded for the longest time, before she finally managed to find her voice again. “I am rather glad he didn’t like the idea of being called ‘Androgen’, Ron, seeing as it’s a male sex hormone.”

Ron went puce. “O-oh? Is it? I could’ve sworn I heard it as someone’s name once!”

“No, Ron,” Hermione muttered condescendingly before turning to Harry, who was giggling uncontrollably on his own bed. “Harry, shouldn’t we be practising that mind-link we have to make it stronger? It might even be ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not.’”

Harry sat up, composing himself. “I doubt it, Hermione. There are quite a few things that Voldemort doesn’t know I can do. Like make an ace Chicken Caesar Salad, for example. But I can hardly see him standing in a puddle of salad dressing screaming ‘I’m melting, I’m melting’, can you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. How could her best friend be emotionally profound one moment, and then, barely thirty minutes later, transform once again into an idiot? “Harry, try and focus. It’s a useful skill. You said as much yourself!”

“All right, all right! We’ll start out with the basics: practising holding the link as long as possible, and then seeing how far away we can get from each other while still maintaining it. I don’t want too much done tonight though. Voldy’s due another meeting with his cronies, and I’ll get one hell of a headache if I overdo it.”

***

It was that night that it happened.

Severus was busy settling back in his comfy chair, mulling over his handling of Potter and his friends, absentmindedly marking the Third Year aconite essays. A glass of merlot sat inconspicuously on the coffee table, waiting for Severus’ attention, in case he came across a particularly terrible essay.

Then, all of a sudden, all the hair down the back of his neck stood to attention, followed closely by the chilling sensation of fingernails scraping down the inside of his left forearm, underneath his skin. The fierce burn came a second later, so strong that his eyes squeezed closed and a pained gasp was wrenched from between his lips.

Severus hurled down his quill, downed the merlot, and chucked a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire while calling out the keyword Albus and he had decided on for these situations.

“Albus, checkmate!” It was a well-known fact among the staff that the Headmaster had never-yet lost a chess game to the Potions Master. A fact that infuriated Severus no end.

Severus stepped into the fireplace and, the second he felt the wards go down, pressed his forefinger to the Dark Mark. This was the only way to Apparate within Hogwarts. The combination of the Floo, Dark magic, and Albus’ tampering with the wards had saved Severus many an arduous trip down to the gates when the Mark burned.

The heat of the flames soon gave way to cold evening air, and Severus found himself standing in the forest located just outside Malfoy Manor. He recognised it as this because of the white peacock standing there, eyeing him. No, not Lucius, a real peacock. The Malfoy in question was striding towards him, dressed in full Death Eater regalia already, his condescending sneer firmly in place. It appeared to have taken him even less time than before to break out of Azkaban this time around.

“Honestly, Severus, not even dressed? What will our Lord think?” Lucius sniped, as if his tone alone could make Snape quiver in fear. Typical. Malfoy was the type to laugh while setting an enraged Hippogriff on you, and then to run away squealing like a girl when it turned on him.

Severus’ lip curled as he pulled the Mokeskin Pouch out from under his robes, producing a shrunken outfit from within.

“Will this satisfy his Lordship?” he sneered while tugging the robes over his teaching ones. He vanished the robes underneath; no use getting them dirty if the Dark Lord was in a ‘festive’ mood.

Lucius huffed and stormed off towards the Manor. Severus rolled his eyes, secured his mask, and hurried after him.

“You have no idea what he’s been like recently!” Lucius whined when Severus caught up with him. “It’s not as if he gave me a choice to have him as a houseguest after Riddle Manor fell down, but now he’s taken over! You don’t even want to know what his latest obsession has become.”

Severus felt a chill creep up his spine. “Not Cheering Charms, again?”

“Yes! Bursting into song while walking down the corridors, terrifying the house-elves by skipping through the kitchens, and last, but definitely not least, yelling ‘I love the world!’ from the top of the North Tower every night! Severus, you have to do something!”

“Hush, keep your voice down.” They had entered the Manor and were fast approaching the main drawing room. “I can try slipping some Sobrietus Potion in his drink again, but I don’t know if it will work.”

“Severus, your Sobrietus Potion can make a sober man cry. Give it to him!”

“As you wish,” Severus smirked, visibly gloating at the other man being forced to ask for his help when, normally, Malfoy wouldn’t give him the time of day. However, the amusement was swept off his face a moment later as they came to a stop outside the huge double doors and Severus heard his ‘Master’s’ voice.

“Laetissimus!” An infinitesimal pause. “Heee, heee, heee, heee!”

Oh. Dear. God.

Severus swept into the room and knelt at his Master’s feet. “I am here as you requested, My Lord,” he murmured while kissing the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes.

“Severus, good-good, glad you are here. I always miss your visage so much. Your nose is so amusing!”

Severus resisted the urge to bang his bowed forehead against the floor. “Yes, My Lord, I am most unfortunate. It has been like this since birth.”

“Heee, heee, heee!”

Severus gritted his teeth. Yes, he definitely preferred it when the Dark Lord was Crucio-ing everybody in sight – at least then he got to see snooty snots like Malfoy writhe.

“My Lord!” he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright when he could stand the asinine laughter no more. “I took the liberty of brewing this potion to help make you stronger!”

The laughter stopped, and the Dark Lord reached out eagerly and took the phial Severus had produced. “Are you sure Severus? It looks awfully like Sobrietus Potion to me.”

“Yes, My Lord. It is based on the formula, but instead gives you more control over your magic.” The Dark Lord trustingly lifted the phial to his lips, and chugged back the liquid.

Severus had to suppress laughter as every Death Eater in the room, including Bellatrix, clasped both hands together and mouthed ‘Thank you!’ at him.

“Ah, yes, I see what you mean Severus. Crucio!”

Rodolphus fell to the floor, screaming, while everyone else watched dispassionately. “Now, what news does my favourite Potions Master have for me?”

“I believe Dumbledore is beginning to suspect my loyalties, My Lord.”

“Indeed?” The red eyes flashed, promising pain, and Severus gulped. It was a risky gamble, but if it paid off, it would be worth it.

“Yes, but through no fault of my own. The plants at the Ministry have been indiscreet and are now being watched by several Order members. Dumbledore wants to know why I have not informed him of this.”

Anger radiated off the Dark Lord. “Crucio!” Rodolphus fell screaming to the floor again, and Severus was beginning to wonder if Rodolphus was really to blame, or if the Dark Lord just couldn’t be bothered to move his wrist. Severus surreptitiously shuffled to his right.

“Severus, you shall inform the old fool that I will be launching an attack on Azkaban next Tuesday. I shall send all those I deem incompetent along. Let the Aurors bag whomever they choose! You are all dismissed. I am too distressed to work with you tonight!”

“Yes, My Lord,” Severus murmured as the Dark Lord rose and swept from the room. He hauled himself to his feet, stretching out his aching joints, and eyed the rest of the Death Eaters, who were still looking at him – starry-eyed with admiration.

Time to beat a hasty retreat. He may now be a favoured Death Eater among the ranks, but the last thing he wanted was one of them offering him a Muggle as a ‘reward’. The damn things were almost impossible to get rid of!

The last one he’d relieved from their care had kept insisting that he was her ‘hero,’ and that he must marry her immediately. Needless to say, she ended up sitting outside Dumbledore’s office, tears pouring down her face while the old man offered her a lemon drop.

That was one experience he could do without a repeat of.

Gratifyingly, he only had to wait until the following morning at the breakfast table to see the results of his work the previous night.

“Severus, look at this! Several Ministry workers have gone missing from their posts with no sign of a struggle. I wonder how that happened!”

Albus hid his face behind the paper, before turning to Severus and mouthing, “Well done!”

Severus left the Hall, and was carefully ensconced in his dungeons before he allowed himself to preen.