#7 ~ The Ghost and Lady Snape

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR (except Marcus Delaluci). All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 15 ~ Peeves Gets Inducted the Hard Way

Marcus, Severus and Hermione had a short meeting after supper, going over what Hermione had learned about the astral plane. It was easy to see that all three were feeling antsy. So they cut the meeting short, and went their separate ways. Tomorrow they would meet again, when the potion was ready and really discuss their options. Marcus used Severus’ floo to go directly to the Headmaster’s office, where he was domiciled until they battled Alistar.

Severus spent the night in the Potions lab, unable to sleep because he had come to an important portion of the brewing process. He needed to time the addition of the following deadly ingredients: Thorn Apple, also known as Jimson Weed, Hemlock, Nightshade and Castor Bean. Even one small error would render the potion meant to free their souls for six hours, into a deadly concoction that would kill them in mere moments.

Severus watched the simmering caldron until it turned a sickly yellow, then added several pinches of Nightshade. The potion turned black, and he turned up the heat, counting off the minutes until the liquid became green. At this point he added the Thorn Apple, and let the potion come to a boil as he mashed three castor beans to a pulp. When the brew reached the boiling point, he carefully raked in the mash. The potion turned a deep blood red. So far, so good. He let the potion simmer two more hours precisely then added the final ingredient, Hemlock.

The potion turned a royal blue and thickened, emitting a great gray cloud of steam that took the form of a ghostly human body that drifted momentarily in the air, then faded. The potion turned white, signaling completion. Severus quickly turned down the heat and ladled the carefully measured potion into three sterilized bottles made of blue glass. The measurements were calculated according to the weight of the imbiber, so Hermione had the least amount of potion to take, while Marcus had the largest amount. Severus corked the potions and placed them each in a separate velvet cloth, wrapping them securely so they would not be exposed to light. He put them away in a locked and warded chest, cleaned the lab with a flick of his wand, then recleaned it to be sure to have rid the room of all traces of the deadly ingredients he’d used, then sat on a stool, exhausted, rubbing his eyes.

In the bedroom, Hermione had tossed and turned all night. Not having her husband beside her at such a stressful time, wreaked havoc on her subconscious. Her dreams were full of strange images, ghostly forms and whirling colors. She woke up several times, wanting to go find Severus, but not wishing to disturb him at such a vital time in the brewing process. She plumped the pillows determinedly, and fell back to fight her insomnia, unsuccessfully. So when Severus finally did return to his rooms, he found a very tired wife, sitting up in bed, waiting for him. He looked at the circles under her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep, my love?” he asked her softly, as he began to undress.

“No,” Hermione responded, “I had nightmares most of the night.”

“Why didn’t you come to me for a sleeping draught?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he stripped off his robes.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You were at an important part of the brewing. One mistake…” she said, before he cut her off, sliding into bed beside her in his silk boxers.

“You are important,” he said, grasping her chin so he could look directly into her tired eyes, “never feel I am doing anything more important to me than you are. Because there is nothing, my wife, nothing more important than you.”

Severus kissed Hermione gently, then snuggled down into the pillows, drawing her into his arms and sighing. Within the next forty-eight hours he and his wife would be going on a journey they might not return from. He pulled her closer, and whispered, “I will love you always, Lady Hermione Snape. In this world and the next.”

Hermione laid her head on her husband’s chest, lulled by the strong beating of his heart. Severus’ arm tightened possessively around her as she began to drift off to sleep.

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Marcus settled into the guest room of the Headmaster’s office. It had its own private bath. It was quite nice really, with a large sunken marble tub and five faucets that each spouted a different fragrance in the bath. Marcus took full advantage of it, soaking luxuriously, one long leg sprawled lazily across the marble edging. If he were forced to be in this predicament, he might as well make the best of it. Actually the best would have been if he had a willing female to share the tub with. But alas, even if he could manage to get a woman here, Albus would no doubt cockblock, offering lemon drops and reminiscing about his days as a carefree rake. If that didn’t cool Marcus’ libido, nothing would.

Finished with his bath, Marcus dried off and slipped on his smiley-faced boxers. He sat down on the edge of the large four-poster bed, and stared into space for a moment, thinking that in less than forty-eight hours he would be going on a journey that he might not return from. He picked up a book that Albus had brought up from his bedroom. It was an old book from his youth, with a frayed paper book jacket. He lifted up the flap and removed a small black and white photo, creased and yellowed by time. The photo was of a short, dark-haired woman and a tall blonde-haired and rather muscular man. The woman smiled and waved, while the man looked steadily at the camera with a slight and familiar grin. Marcus stared at the picture for a long while, then blinked a few times and put it back in the jacket cover.

“Your Mum and Dad, eh?” asked a rude voice that rang from an upper corner. Marcus jumped, startled as Peeves floated down a little closer. “Why you hiding their picture, teach?”

Marcus put the book away and scowled at the poltergeist. “I am not hiding their picture, I keep it in the book for safekeeping,” he said evenly, annoyed at the poltergeist’s insinuation. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing in my room? You’ve got your niche out in the office. Get lost.”

Peeves dropped down directly in front of the blonde wizard.

“Are you ready to walk the path of death, wizard? Because that is where you are going…the land of the dead. There are things there worse than the dead, “ the little man said, shivering. “Maybe you can find some other way to meet Alistar? Something safer?”

Marcus looked at the poltergeist and frowned. “You little scary bastard,” he spat, “you want out, don’t you?”

Peeves didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His wide, fearful eyes said it all. Marcus’ eyes telescoped. He wasn’t about to let the poltergeist back out and leave them alone on the astral plane. They’d never find their way out. He calmed himself.

“Well, I understand. You’re scared, aren’t you, Peeves?” Marcus asked kindly, rising from the bed and walking over to his robes.

“Yeah, teach, I am,” the spirit confessed, heartened by Marcus’ apparent understanding. “I don’t want to lead you to Alistar. He’ll be angry and want to destroy Peeves.”

Marcus removed his wand from his robes. He turned on the poltergeist.

“Doesn’t he want to destroy you anyway? I heard you had a terrible battle with him,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Peeves went fish-mouthed for a moment, gaping as he struggled to work the lie into something believable. Marcus didn’t give him a chance. He pointed his wand at the poltergeist.

“Ecto Nex Quattuor Dies!” the wizard intoned as a beam of black light issued from the tip of his wand and enveloped the poltergeist, who writhed in silent agony, unable to even scream. Marcus held the beam on him for more than a minute, perspiring with his effort. Finally, he released the poltergeist, who fell to the floor, still writhing. Marcus, his chest heaving, watched the creature dispassionately, his violet eyes hard.

Eventually Peeves stopped writhing and was able to levitate weakly. Looking at the wizard with fear-filled eyes, the spirit gasped, “What did you do to me? I feel strange.”

“Just a little insurance, Peeves, that you don’t run out on us and leave us stranded,” Marcus said, returning to sit on the edge of the bed and looking at the poltergeist evenly. “You have a spell on you that will go into effect four days from now. It will destroy your ectoplasm and you will dissipate.”

Peeves felt himself all over, and looked at Marcus with a glint in his eye.

“There be no such spell,” he said bravely.

“You think not?” Marcus asked him, raising his eyebrows, “Well, if you don’t bring us back safely, you’ll find out in four days, when I’m not here to lift the spell and your limbs start dropping off, liquefying and evaporating like dirty green puddles.”

Poltergeist and wizard stared at each other. Marcus’ violet eyes never wavered. Peeves shuddered. This wizard was evil, he could have done just what he said he did.

“You are not part of the Light,” Peeves accused, “You are using dark magic!”

“Never claimed to be,” replied Marcus, “when Dumbledore and crew were fighting the war against Voldemort, I was fighting another war, just as sordid, just as evil. Using the dark arts doesn’t faze me a bit, you slug. Now listen, you aren’t going to skive off on us…if you do, you’ll end up in the dark just like we do. You do your job and you’ll be fine. Otherwise you can kiss your trouble-making ass goodbye, I promise you.”

Peeves floated towards the door.

“Fine. I will guide you there and back,” he said sullenly, “but I won’t fight.”

“I already knew that,” Marcus sneered, “just be close by to get us out of there.”

Peeves drifted out of Marcus’ room without another word.

Marcus fell back on the bed, exhausted by the energy he’d expended. He hadn’t lied to Peeves. The poltergeist would dissolve in four days if the wizard did not remove the spell. Unfortunately, the spell only worked on entities like Peeves. It would not work on Alistar who was a spirit bound by blood. If it did, it would have made this whole thing so much easier. They could have used Hermione for bait and zapped Alistar when he went for her. Marcus sighed. It seemed like nothing ever went easy for him, outside of the quick lay. He slipped under the covers, and lazily warded the door. It was unnecessary, because Albus’ office was quite capable of protecting itself and its guests. It was almost like a living entity. But warding the door made Marcus feel more at ease. He rolled over and closed his eyes. Sleep was a long time coming.

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Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Peeves came drifting in. The poltergeist morosely rose to the niche above the bookcase and tucked himself in. The Headmaster looked up at him.

“Everything all right, Peeves?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Just fine,” the spirit said softly, then fell silent, brooding.

Albus shook his head. He knew what happened, but he couldn’t blame Marcus. They needed Peeves and the poltergeist was untrustworthy. Now that his own existence was threatened, he would be much more cooperative, and stand by the three. He could excuse the use of dark magic this time.

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A/N: Been working, so didn’t have the energy to write as usual. But finally I got something up. Peeves needed that, I think. He’s a wimp. Interesting about the pic of Marcus’ parents. Shows he’s human after all. Please review.