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Title: The Waiting Room (Chapter Seven) THE WAITING ROOM “Severus, please listen to me …” The Painting of Dumbledore craned his head, trying to keep the younger wizard in sight from the confines of his frame. “Severus … please …” he asked again, softly. Severus Snape paused in his preparations, and Dumbledore thought he could see the thin shoulders tense a little. He remembered, with a small stab of guilt, that the words he had just spoken would have brought up bad memories. “Nobody can afford to wait until Harry grows up this time,” He said, without looking up from the pile of Muggle matchboxes he was busy Charming; “Therefore, I have decided to implement an alternative plan.” He picked up a matchbox, and threw it onto the floor before slamming the heel of his boot onto it with such force that the other boxes jumped on their table. Picking it up again, Severus could see that it was undamaged; the Strengthening Charm had held perfectly. One corner of his mouth lifted a fraction in satisfaction, and he pushed the box open to check the contents. A carpet of felt, soft as peach skin, lined both the bottom and sides, while two layers of cheap satin over a pinch of cotton wool made a makeshift bed. A scrap of glow fungus was glued to the corner opposite the bed, while next to it, sat three dried poppy seed-heads in a row. Hollowed out, with their caps put back on as lids, one held a droplet of water, one a smear of blackberry jam, and the other was left empty to serve as a toilet. Whoever would be held captive in it would have most of his or her basic needs met for a while. All the other boxes had been similarly fitted out, and Severus permitted himself a little pride at his work. Pushing it shut with his thumb, he tucked it into a robe pocket before gathering handfuls of the rest to do the same. “How can you be sure that you can carry out the plan on your own?” Dumbledore asked. “Maybe there shall be more success with someone who is both qualified, and working alone,” Severus replied; “and I can assure you that Harry will be safe, Professor. I warded him thoroughly after I finished the Stasis Charm. He is now in the most secure place he can possibly be, and I will be able to remain fit until after this business is over.” “And then?” Dumbledore asked again, sceptically. “I will let him be born,” Severus replied, “Only then.” “I do not want you to do this alone,” Dumbledore insisted. “You would be prepared to wait? I am not,” came the answer; “and as things stand, it appears that nobody else will be willing or able to get things moving in the near future. If I had the ability to face the Dead Dark Lord with a lie … and live, then I shall be quite capable of doing so with a creature of lesser intelligence, such as our esteemed Minister.” “If you do not desist in this tomfoolery, Severus,” Dumbledore snapped, unexpectedly; “I will inform the others of your intentions! Would you prefer to live with even greater restrictions than the ones you are under already?!” His voice had a harshness that Severus had rarely heard before, a tone hinting of suppressed worry … or grief. He carefully put down a matchbox he was about to pocket, and looked the Painted wizard in the eye. “You definitely will do that?” he said, quietly. “Yes,” Dumbledore replied, “I have not forgotten Alastor Moody’s account of Eileen’s delivery. Both you and she could easily have died. After all else that has happened, I do not want to have you alone and away from help in that condition again, if it can possibly be helped. Do you understand?” Severus remained silent for a moment, studying the blue eyes. He moved a hand toward a matchbox, as if to pick it up … and then halted. “When will be the next meeting for the coup?” he asked. “That may not be for another three months, at least.” Dumbledore replied, “Ten to twelve months would be more realistic. By now, you would have known that every living young witch and wizard on our side, with the exception of Madam Longbottom and Madam Weasley, have been called up for repopulation duty again next month.” “That is too soon!” Severus said, “some have only borne a child a few months ago!” “Umbridge is punishing us,” Dumbledore noted, “Though she cannot yet do anything that may expose our existence, for fear that we will gain a dangerous amount of new members. Neither can we afford to make ourselves too visible yet, with Ministry spies of all kinds about, and new Aurors being hired in from abroad every week.” Severus glared up at Dumbledore, and brought his fist down on a matchbox; protected as it was with the fortification Charm, it merely jumped out from under his knuckles. “Then we do not have time!” he hissed, “I must find a way into the Ministry as soon as possible!” “You will first remove the Stasis Charm from Harry,” Dumbledore insisted, “allowing him be born in proper time. He will be safer out of your body, when the time does come for you to take action. I am certain that you will be facing serious enough hazards then, without endangering him as well.” “If he remains unborn,” Severus replied, “he will be safe from abduction by the Ministry. If I maintain the Stasis Charm, he will be of little encumbrance to me. I can fight well enough to keep both of us safe …” Safe from abduction by the Ministry … Dumbledore thought, Of course! … he would not wish Harry to meet the same fate as Eileen … “Severus, we will keep him safe after he is born,” he said, “We will even use the Fidelus for him, and you can be Secret Keeper. As long as his presence remains unknown to the Ministry, they will not seek him.” “There are still ways that the Fidelus can fail,” Severus said, “as you, I… and he, have seen. I would rather trust in my body, and my skills.” Dumbledore sighed inside his frame; “You will still be one wizard alone against the Ministry, and a small army of Aurors. My word is final.” he said, “Before you leave this room, I will watch you to remove the Stasis Charm, and return all the holding cells from your pocket to the table.” “If not?” Severus asked, though he knew the answer. “If not,” replied Dumbledore, “then I shall have to report it, and it is likely that you may find yourself under even closer confinement than before.” “I am left with little choice, it seems” Severus muttered, while he took out his wand. Pointing it at a spot above his groin, he whispered the Counter-Charm. It seemed ironic to him that a Charm which had taken almost half an hour of precise spellwork to cast, could be undone with five hastily whispered words. He felt a slight release of tension around the spot where Harry lay, and knew he’d been successful. “And the Wards?” he asked. “Keep the Wards,” Dumbledore said, “now the cells, if you please?” At the Painting’s request, Severus took fifteen matchboxes out of his pockets, putting them down on the table next to the remaining seven. Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. “Now, please,” he said, “go to bed and try to take some rest. The hour is late, and it will be your turn to refresh the manor Wards tomorrow.” “Goodnight Professor,” Severus said in a bitter tone, as he abruptly turned, and left the room. For a while after Severus left, Dumbledore remained, gazing at the pile of matchboxes with a solemn expression. Eventually he stood up, and walked off-frame to meet with Phineus, Everard and Rowena. He would not tell any of them; or the rest of the living about Severus’s attempt – he had made a promise, and as long as Severus cooperated, he considered himself bound to it. ***** At three in the morning, a cuckoo flew out the doors of its clock, to
chime three times for the hour. Halfway through the third, it’s voice
faltered as a mass of flying matchboxes struck it on their way out of the
room. A minute or two later, satisfied that the Accio spell had summoned
them all, Severus quietly closed the door behind himself. Flooing back to the hut, where Eileen had been born, brought back extremely distasteful memories, but Severus was not one to be much concerned with sentiment. The place was convenient, and that was what mattered. It had been surprisingly easy for him to come undetected – he merely asked Topsy to Apparate there, dispel the Wards, and then relight the fire on the other end. He opened a small velvet jewellery case, and picked from it a single strand of red hair. He was certain it belonged to Percy Weasley, as it had come from a lock Spell-O-Taped to a torn childhood photograph of him. Severus had found it inside an envelope that had fallen from the rubbish bin while he’d been disposing of potato scraps. He had pocketed it, thinking that it might prove useful someday. Severus wound the strand around a thin lock of his own hair, and then held the tip of his wand to his forehead, concentrating for a moment. Afterwards, he Conjured a mirror to check the result. He now stood slightly taller; and short red hair framed Percy Weasley’s face. It took a few more spells to create a set of horn-rimmed glasses, and change his robes to resemble those of a Ministry employee. Looking again, he was satisfied with his work – though not quite the same as using Polyjuice, it would do. He called for Topsy, and a moment later, she appeared before him. “Is Percy Weasley in the Ministry right now?” he asked. “No, Master Snape. Right now Percy Weasley be sleeping in his home.” She said. “Did he leave any unfinished business for the next day?” “He has parchments about dragon-skinning knives in his desk drawer, Master Snape, and they not be looking much finished.” “Then I have an excuse,” Severus said, “Do you know enough to connect this hut to the Ministry?” “Topsy has watched Mistress Weasley and Mistress Potter,” she said, “Topsy also knows a fireplace on the Atrium where the Wards are weak. Master Snape will soon enter the Ministry if Master wishes.” “I wish it,” Severus replied, “Come back to me when you are finished.” ***** “Evening, sir?” she asked in a broad Antipodean’s accent as he arrived at the gates, “Mind if I weigh your wand, Mr. Weasley?” “Of course,” Severus replied, and he reached into his robes to get his wand … to find that it did not seem to be there. “Damnit!” he said, as he began to grope frantically to find it, “Do not tell me that I left the bloody thing at home!” “May I check you over, sir?” “That would be fine … err … maybe not.” He babbled, suddenly pulling his robes tighter around his waist; “I just realised that I may have also forgotten to put on my underwear …” “Would you mind standing straight for a moment, with your arms out please?” she said suspiciously, taking out her own wand. “Certainly,” Severus said, as he assumed the position. The guard began to scan him, methodically running the tip of her wand over his clothing looking for anything suspicious. He thanked what few lucky stars he had when, while scanning his torso, her expression suddenly turned blank before she slumped against the stand. The Charmed shaving mirror in his pocket had worked as he expected, catching the magic of her scan and reflecting it back as a sleep spell. Taking out his wand, he quickly moved her back to her post, ensuring that she was propped up enough to look awake. He placed a quill in her hand, Charmed to write the counter-spell that would wake her in three hours time. He then headed through the golden gates to the lifts, stepping inside the nearest one, and requested it to stop at level nine. Stepping out into the corridor, he made his way to the stairs opposite the lift. He climbed until he reached the top, and then opened the door to see the dungeon-like corridors leading to the Wizengamot courtrooms … and the Minister’s office. The plan was to find a hiding place near - or if possible, in the office, and wait for an opportunity to seize and imprison her. That was easier said than done; for Umbridge was certain to keep both herself and her office well guarded. The key of their plot had been to wait for a moment of weakness. Umbridge was not the most wary or sensible witch in Britain, and Severus knew that he could easily maintain his Percy Illusion until a chance came up. He cared little at that point how his fellow conspirators would react when he came home with the hostages – he was incensed enough by the fact that they had already let things slide so far. He decided against waiting too close to the office; instead finding a niche behind a wall support, within sight of the office door. He Conjured a stool, and cast a Concealment spell to camouflage himself against the stone walls, and then sat down to wait. ***** … into the eyes of a fluffy, smoky grey kitten. He remembered the reports about Imperio’ed cats being used as Ministry spies. He slowly moved his hand back down to where he’d stowed his wand, and noticed the kitten’s eyes followed it. Desperately, he decided to risk using Occlumency. “Here, kitty,” he whispered as softly as he could manage, wiggling his fingers above its face. As he hoped, the cat looked up enough that Severus could meet its gaze. “Here kitty,” he repeated, racking his mind to bring up any memories he could of things to do with the Weasleys - Ron, Hermione, Fred and George, the Burrow … “Play mouse games with Percy, kitty?” The cat’s attention flicked from Severus’s eyes to his fingers; and a few moments later, he laid its slightly stunned body in a corner of the niche, positioning its limbs so that it looked as if it was sleeping. He Vanished the stool, then looked around for a better place to hide, before Umbridge arrived. He heard footsteps coming towards him down the hall, and they did not sound like hers, though still familiar. He tried to place them… “Who’s that?!” an abrupt, rasping voice called out; “Noone’s supposed to be using a wand in these halls at this hour apart from Weasley, Madam and myself! Get out and show yourself now!” “It is merely I, Percy Weasley!” Severus replied, stepping out where the wizard could see him. His stomach knotted when he recognised the familiar, hulking outline of Fenrir Greyback … but he is dead! He thought idiotically, Greyback is not supposed to be alive! He and Lupin went fighting over a cliff during that full moon attack! “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Weasley,” Greyback muttered as he came closer; “You know the drill. Password, please!” “Homunculus!” Severus answered, glad that he’d listened in on yesterday’s breakfast conversation when the Weasleys had visited (whilst wondering if Hermione had been using Legilimency on her in-laws). Greyback grunted; “A little late, Mr. Weasley, but it’ll do. Now, what’s your business bein’ here so early, in case it’s something I can help you out with.” “I’d forgotten to bring home some documents I needed on those standardised dragon-skinning knives,” Severus replied, “and I wanted to leave a note for Madam Umbridge, should she query me about them.” “Fair enough, then,” Greyback said, “write your note out and then come back to your office with me.” “Certainly,” Severus replied as he took out a scrap of parchment and a quill to write the fake note with. He hoped that he’d done a convincing enough job of faking Percy’s handwriting. The oddity of Dolores Umbridge allowing a Werewolf to work in her Ministry had him guessing just what sort of secret deals had been going on to increase her hold on power … he didn’t like the way Greyback seemed to be randomly sniffing at the air around him. “Anything the matter?” he asked. “Nothing,” said the Werewolf, “Was just trying to place a scent I’m sure I’ve picked up before.” The skin on the back of Severus’s neck prickled. “If you are ready,” he said, slipping the note under the door with a charm, “we shall return to my office.” Greyback looked strangely at Severus for a moment, before a feral grin crept across his face. “Unusually eager this morning, are we?” he said, “I’m almost wondering if you’re starting to enjoy this, little lamb …” “Come.” Severus said; he felt his stomach knot again. He had no idea what Greyback meant by those last words, but they did not give him a good feeling. ***** “Allow me!” Greyback said with chilling courtesy, placing a hand on the office door. It opened; an unauthorised Charm must have been on it. “Thank you,” he muttered as he entered, the Werewolf following him in, so close that he felt the creature’s body brush against his back. Accidentally, he hoped. A large hand suddenly laid itself over his shoulder, heavy and horribly warm. Severus stiffened; he felt a hot puff of breath behind his ear as Greyback spoke. “Now, little one … don’t you try backing out again now. We’ve done a deal, remember?” Another hand clamped over his thigh, running up and down his leg, hooking Severus’s robes up with his fingers … “unless, of course, you rather that I… ahh … adopted one of your precious little orphan brats sooner rather than later. I’m sure Madam Minister wouldn’t miss it if a few were taken off her hands before she gives them to me anyway.” “No … no, of course not,” Severus stammered hoarsely, his throat dry. “Especially since I’ll make sure they’ll turn out just as tame as I am,” Greyback continued, “or at least the ones strong enough to deserve to survive initiation!” Severus felt a brush of lips against his ear, before a set of sharp teeth clamped down on it, with just enough pressure to hurt without breaking the skin. “Sure you don’t want me to give you a little foretaste of the good life?” Greyback slurred. Before Severus could reply, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder suddenly shoved him forward, firmly slamming him chest-first into a bureau drawer. “The moon’s blessing would be wasted on you, soft-minded little wretch!” Greyback hissed as he caught hold of Severus again by the scruff of his robes, throwing him face-down over the office desk. Immediately, he felt his body weaken, grow limp … another Charm, he was sure of it. “Don’t move!” Greyback ordered. A moment later, Severus felt the werewolf grab at his robes, and hitch them up over his legs, baring his buttocks. His underpants were yanked down next. “Your magic wand isn’t much help to you now, isn’t it wizard?” Greyback snarled. Severus heard a rustle of cloth behind him, and realised with a pang of shame that his thighs had begun to shake. He wanted to run, to pull out his wand and kill the monster … but doing so at the wrong moment could destroy his cover. Rough hands grabbed his buttocks; the sharp nails dug into his skin; “Bit shaky today are we, my lad?” Severus felt the weight of the Werewolf’s body shift over him, and pin him down on the desk. His mind raced, trying to find some quick way out. “Now get your bloody legs open, and keep your hands out where I can see them!” Greyback snarled … It took all of Severus’s self control not to scream out as he felt Greyback force his way inside him. ***** Severus paused only when he had found a lift, riding it down to the atrium and away from the office - and Greyback’s body. Leaning against the wall, he quickly applied healing Charms to his body, followed by several others for cleansing. They did little to make him feel any better. As he repeatedly cast Scourify to remove all traces of the slain Werewolf’s blood from his robes, he tried to breath as softly as he could. Even then, every breath seemed loud as a gale to him. He noticed his wand hand shaking, and suppressed an urge to slam it into a wall to make it stop. At that moment, he became aware again of another sensation that was more familiar; a fullness below his navel … and he remembered that other physical violation. The diagnostic spell showed that Harry was unharmed, along with the place he rested within. The Wards had been cast perfectly, he noted, not sure whether to be pleased or disgusted with his protectiveness. The brat probably slept right through the whole sordid bloody thing, he thought as he adjusted his robes … and realised with a small chill that Harry’s presence could now be felt from without as well as within. The bump was definitely there - slight, but firm and unmistakable. He knew Greyback’s hand had been there as well, less than fifteen minutes ago … and lingering there too long for his liking. He would surely have suspected something, and most likely reported it had he lived. A bottle of Firewhiskey over the back of his skull had assured he would forever stay silent, though. Severus was not a strongly religious man, but he wanted to give thanks to whatever powers that be that’d granted him the split-second lapse of vigilance he’d needed to free himself. Checking his hair, he found the Charm still in place; he would still look and sound like Percy, but it would no longer be safe to linger here. The lift stopped at the Atrium. He stepped out, made his way to the Golden gates, and passed them through without a word from the still sleeping Guard. His fob watch showed the time to be nearly half-past four in the morning. He risked another look to ensure the hallway remained clear, before casting a handful of powder, and stepping into the Floo. ***** While waiting for Topsy to ready the Floo connection that would take him there, he once more smoothed his robes experimentally against that area. He had not been imagining things; he could see it, clearly. He let the robe fall, and after another check, adjusted his posture. If he stood straight, the bump showed slightly through his clothes, but if he stooped forward slightly, the fall of the cloth still hid it. He knew if anyone else looked hard enough in the right place, they too would be able to see the change. Finally, he lifted his robes to bare himself; and saw that the curve was now unmistakable. He’d assumed that he placed the Charm well before things had started to show, but then he had never been eager about checking his body for signs of growth. Apparently, he had already grown bigger than he’d expected, which was a worry. If anyone caught him, touched the wrong part of his body in a struggle … or stripped him naked, then Harry’s survival, as well as his own, would be in jeopardy. Some of the magic that had been used in saving the boy was illegal. There were many in the Ministry who would not hesitate to give him straight to a Dementor, regardless of his condition. Considering their attitude towards Harry’s life previously, he was sure that few would care much if the Dementor took an extra soul into it’s Kiss ... His train of thought was interrupted, when the fire in the hut turned green, and Topsy hopped out, grinning broadly. “All fixed, Master Snape,” she said. He nodded in reply; “Excellent.” ***** Ron Weasley had just attended to Seamus, and was walking back to the bedroom, where Hermione slept. Looking down by the fireplace, he noticed a scrap of parchment on the floor. Picking it up, he noticed that the note was in a very familiar, sharp and spidery handwriting. It read: I saw Fenrir Greyback in the Ministry, but I have made certain I am currently in hiding for safety’s sake, “Snape,” Ron whispered to himself, in shock; “Bloody Snape! He’s bloody well run off on us!” He took off to wake Hermione. To be continued …
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