Escape ↣ Harmione

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter 23 - Horcrux Hunting

It had been a fortnight since Severus, Minerva and Remus had uncovered the information left by Miss Granger in her codes and secret messages. Severus and Minerva had retired for the evening, each back to their own chambers and had been unable to meet up again. While Albus was in the castle, they were unable to interrogate the Grey Lady or see if the sword of Gryffindor could be acquired for use.

They had explicitly agreed that Albus or the Dark Lord would not be told of their plan to hunt the horcruxes or of the information they had received. What Albus didn't know he couldn't forbid them from. Minerva and Lupin had had their faith in Albus' benevolence shaken, but neither were ready to launch an outright rebellion. Even if they were, it would do no good and more likely split their forces into those that would deny Albus could do no wrong, against anyone who thought to listen to either of them. It was a division they couldn't afford. It was the only thing keeping Lupin's temper in check. That, and following up on his hunch from the note from Miss Granger and Potter. Lupin had refused to share anything until he had confirmed it.

Severus couldn't imagine anything good would come of it. Miss Granger had put the cat amongst the pigeons in more than one way. She'd defied a government. She'd taken Potter from Albus and Albus was spitting nails about it. Oh, he was obviously chasing them down, but so far seemed to only be tracing the moves they had some idea about. If they stuck their heads above whatever parapet they were hiding behind long enough for Albus to find them, then Miss Granger would be in for the short end of a very shitty stick. He had first-hand experience of how bad Albus could make your life when you displeased him. They'd both be better off if they stayed away.

Severus couldn't imagine what had possessed her to suggest whatever it was. If it was a lead to more information was this going to be how it was? Information trickle fed to them while they waited, and they somehow monitored what was going on? Was it just a way of keeping tabs on what was going on with the Order? To calculate if they would have a reason or need to return. There would be a reason behind it, Miss Granger clearly didn't do anything without one and plenty of planning.

He grumbled to himself, did it matter he couldn't fathom it? Lupin and Potter did have some sort of relationship, that was clear since Potter had only written to Lupin and hadn't wanted Albus to see it. Miss Granger had apparently found a kindred academic in Lupin in the time they had spent at the headquarters. Maybe it wasn't so hard to suppose that they would have wanted to reach out to at least one person they left behind they thought they could trust. They had no guarantees that he or Minerva would step in and act.

He sighed, life was hard enough damn it, without having to second guess the motivations of two students that no one had known enough about. Did the clandestine meetings with Lupin and Minerva make him a triple agent, and Minerva and Lupin double agents? Could it get more convoluted? Could they not all just get together under truce, hash it out and have done? He amused himself imagining the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, Albus and the Order, and Miss Granger and Potter sat around a table hashing out who was doing what, with what information.

He threw his quill down on his desk, he was getting nowhere with his marking, and he would need to go up to dinner in ten minutes. He got up and went to make himself presentable, donning the guise of dungeon bat, feared Potions Master.

As he stalked the corridors towards the Great Hall, herding students ahead of him by the force of his glare he wondered if the weather in Southern Europe was warmer than Scotland in March. He wondered if lemon groves were pleasantly scented by the sun as the warmth seeped into your bones. He shook himself as he entered the hall, schooling his expression to a sneer, his demeanour to unapproachable and sat next to Minerva. Above him, the enchanted ceiling showed the rain lashing down, gusts of wind billowing the falling drops into diaphanous clouds. He sighed softly. Southern Europe. No bloody wonder they went there, there was nothing attractive about March in Scotland.