Better Than Cookies {COMPLETE}

A/N: This chapter flowed really well for me. I was listening to 37 Stitches by Drowning Pool when the content came to me. Enjoy!

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The two stared at the large house in the distance. Even from the end of the driveway, it was obvious Malfoy Manor was massive. Blue eyes locked on amber and both men nodded. As one, they moved toward the gates. As if sensing strong magic, like that of the lord of the manor, the gates swung open silently. The two men passed through the gates and walked briskly down the lane, the morning sun illuminating the ground all around them. However, with cloaks charmed to create shadows where there were none, the two remained in twilight.

Finally, the front door was before them. One raised a hand to the gold knocker. Suddenly, the door flew open and red eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously.

“Black.” Lord Voldemort stared at the heir to the Black family with a mix of curiosity and fury. It was obvious he was puzzled, but anger was quickly overwhelming the emotion.

“My Lord.” Sirius bowed his head respectfully. He glanced over his shoulder to where Remus was watching the Dark Lord with guarded eyes.

Voldemort gaze instantly softened. “Remus.” He lowered his wand, which had been aimed directly at Sirius’ heart from the moment the door had opened, and offered his hand to the werewolf.

“My Lord.” Remus bent his head and stepped around Sirius to take his mate’s hand.

As the two stared at each other, one checking the other over for injuries as the other submitted to the intense scrutiny. They were drawn from the comforting ritual when Sirius cleared his throat loudly.

“That’s all fine, well, and good, but where is my godson?” Sirius reached forward and grabbed a handful of Remus cloak. With a sharp jerk, he pulled the startled werewolf back to his side and slid and a possessive arm around his waist.

Voldemort stared at the two for a second and then seemed to focus on Sirius’ question. He growled. “He is gone.”

“Taken, sir,” a small voice interjected from the open doorway.

Voldemort whipped around to look for the owner. “Show yourself!”

The small, wrinkled head of a young house elf popped out from around the door. Wide purple eyes blinked fearfully. “You are talking about the Sir’s mate, Lord Voldemort, sir?” At the Dark Lord’s curt nod, he continued. “Saw Sir take him in the night, Lord Voldemort, sir. Saw Lord Malfoy take him outside manor and leave, Lord Voldemort, sir.” He paused to swallow convulsively. “Only…” he swiveled his head to look at all three wizards, “wasn’t really Lord Malfoy. Was someone spelled to look like him.”

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Severus Snape was the first professor to recover from the train’s sudden stop. He scrambled to his feet, impatiently stepping over the others in the compartment to look frantically out the window. Outside the clouds had thickened to black. Inside the swirling masses, shapes darker than night danced a macabre ballet. Severus cursed under his breath.

“Dementors!” Someone from the compartment next door had obviously seen the hellish scene outside the window.

Severus rounded to glance at the other professors in his compartment. Flitwick grasped his wand tightly a look of firm determination of his small face. The divinations teacher looked somewhat ill, having curled into a small ball in the corner of the compartment. It was just possible to make out the unending stream of “no” in her low babbling. Severus growled under his breath, something that probably sounded like a curse to the others, but was really a summons to the Dark Lord.

Already the air had grown frigid, the windows of the train beginning to ice over. The potions master strode across the compartment and jerked open the door violently. He glanced to the left where the train was still brightly lit. Suddenly, a scream tore down the train from the direction of the end of the train. The lights at the far end of the train began to flicker. In a matter of seconds, the last car was dark. The train rocked to the right as if something large had slammed into the side. Another scream echoed through the train, joined by those of hundreds of others.

The light in the second to last car, fell to darkness. The light of the third car began to flicker. Severus dark mark burst into flames, causing him to stumble to the side and grasp the doorway to keep from falling to the floor. His eyes went wide as the third car went dark. The car Harry Potter was in. In a flurry of movement, he was off in the direction of the darkness.

In a rush, all the students on the train decided to spill into the train’s aisle at the same time. The first few turned to look at him. In seconds, all were moving in his direction calling out in high frightened voices. He looked over his shoulder and saw Flitwick step into the aisle.

“Deal with them,” Severus growled, shoving his way through the throng of grasping hands and too-wide eyes.

“Listen to me! All of you go back into your compartments and lock the door! I repeat…”

Flitwick’s magically amplified voice faded from his notice as he frantically shove his way down the train. The train rocked again to the right, the wheels actually seeming to lift off the tracks. Severus grit his teeth as his shoulder slammed into the wall hard enough to jar him painfully. When he looked up to the aisle again, it was clear of students, most of them having listened to the diminutive professor and locked themselves in their compartments.

Someone called from behind him, most likely someone who wanted to stop his progress. Severus ignored them and sped up. He ran down the aisle, cloak flapping out behind him loudly, even as his breath began to show as smoke puffs with the ever dropping temperature. Now, the last six cars were dark and the screech of metal could be heard. It sounded as like someone was ripping the last train car in half. A strange smell hit him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He looked down at the floor and saw a silver liquid sprinkled across the floor. It was something no potions master would ever leave out for longer than a matter of seconds for fear of the repercussions. Essence of a female dementor. He tore his eyes away from the sight. Twenty feet from the beginning of the darkness, someone stepping into his path.

“Severus Snape.” Hurgid Blackwater gave him a smirk that even Lucius Malfoy would envy. Seconds later, the world faded to black.

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“Harry! Wake up! Damn you, Potter! Wake up!” Draco’s frantic voice finally permeated the agony pounding through his head and Harry found the pale face in the dark compartment. Beside the blonde was an equally pale brunette. Hermione gave him a tight smile and grasped his wrist.

“You need to get up, Harry. Dementors.” With that she jerked him to his feet and pulled her wand from where it was stashed in her inside robe pocket.

Harry glanced at Draco and saw him nod in affirmation, swallowing hard and grabbing his own wand. “How many?” He looked back and forth between the two pale students. They didn’t answer. “I said, how many?”

“Hundreds, Harry. There’s hundreds.” Hermione stated it in a firm voice that only wavered a little near the end.

“Voldemort always said he wanted to kill me himself. I guess he changed his mind.” Harry gave the two a humorless smile and shoved past them to the door. The train was eerily quiet, as if it were waiting for the next move in the game. The move came suddenly and sent Harry crashing through the door to sprawl in the aisle.

As he lay there stunned, he was vaguely aware of Dementors streaming into his compartment. He heard screams. Hermione’s high shriek of terror blended seamlessly with Draco’s pained screams. “No!” Harry struggled to sit up. He ignored the pain in his head and the new pain that screamed through his right arm, as he struggled to his feet. Blood dripped warm and wet down his fingertips to pool on the floor at his feet.

His wand slipped from his slick fingertips as the muscles gave out. He let out a low grunt and fell to his knees. Then someone was at his side, grabbing him in one massive hand and jerking him into the air. His first thought had been of Hagrid but the face that stared at him held none of the warmth. He futilely jerked in the grasp of the half-giant that held him suspended four feet off the ground.

“Harry Potter.” The giant’s voice was deep and rough. It perfectly matched the harsh squeeze it’s owner hand gave Harry’s wounded shoulder.

Harry’s vision swam. He blinked blurrily past the giant. For a moment, he thought he saw a pair of red eyes approaching. Before he could confirm, another hard squeeze sent him spinning into unconsciousness.

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Lord Voldemort stared at the tiny house elf. As soon as the true depth of it’s words hit him, his eyes flashed in warning. The elf disappeared with a frightened squeak. Voldemort whirled to face the two wizards behind him. “Where would he be now? Hogwarts?”

Remus frowned and shook his head. “No, My Lord. He would be on the train.” His eyes narrowed and met the Dark Lord’s. It was obvious they both feared the same thing.

Voldemort closed his eyes and reached out to his Deatheaters. He opened the wards just in time for no less than fifty darkly cloaked figures to arrive on the front lawn of the manor. His eyes instantly found Fenrir, Bellatrix, Nott, and the Lestrange brothers. Their voices joined together in his head as one urgent question.

“The Hogwarts Express in under attack by Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.”

Gasps and cries of denial rose immediately. The Dark Lord ignored them all, instead watching his mates. In each of their eyes, he could see the same fury he felt. He nodded.

“We go. Kill the Order, spare the students if at all possible.”

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Voldemort stared at the train, watching the dementors circle the train in a feeding frenzy. His eyes narrowed and landed on the darkened end of the train. There, a large gapping hole showed the interior of the train to any who cared to look. The Dark Lord watched the dementors in confusion. The way they behaved it was almost as if a Nehjera, or dementor queen, was on board. He watched the dementors make a graceful arc before slamming through the side of the train. He surged forward, feeling his mate for the first time.

“Harry!” Voldemort stood in the dark train aisle before the word was finished. Before him was the broad back of a half-giant. Were it not for the way the giant was holding Harry, he would have assumed it was the Hogwarts groundskeeper. His eyes flashed from red to green at the fear and pain in his mate’s eyes. For one breathless moment, Harry looked over the giant’s shoulder and their eyes met. There was a spark of recognition before his eyes closed and he became limp.

The giant unceremoniously tucked Harry under his arm. Voldemort watched the giant move toward what looked as if it used to be a train compartment. Inside, dark shapes swirled. As the Dark Lord started after the giant, he heard a whimper from the room. Seconds later, the same person screamed. Voldemort rushed forward as a shape ran past him in a blur.

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Fenrir apparated to the darkest section of the train and looked around. A few feet ahead, the body of Severus Snape lay crumpled against one wall. The werewolf’s ears perked up at the sound of a whimper from further down the train. He moved in it’s direction, his wolf sensing something very wrong. When the voice can again, this time a scream, he flew down the hall, hurling past the Dark Lord and into the room.

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Draco felt the first touch to his thigh and tried to move away. A small whimper escaped him when the dementors pressed in closer. They were so thick in the room it was impossible to see Hermione or Potter out in the hall. Draco struggled to focus his eyes on who was jerking on his clothing, but saw only dark hair before the dementors blocked out his vision completely. A calloused hand fumbled under his robes and managed to unbuckle his belt. The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion.

His thighs were jerked apart and he had just enough sanity left to scream in terror. Then someone fell on top of him heavily. Draco turned his head to the side and saw Potter’s face a few feet away. He struggled violently against his attacker, feeling the token bulge against the back of his thigh. “Fenrir!” As illogical as it was, Draco called for his lover.

Something large and silver came flying through the darkness to rip the massive weight off him. Draco scrambled backwards, away from the two figures, and toward Potter. He heard someone yelling through the dry rasping of the dementors but it made no sense. He reached Potter and lightly slapped his cheek.

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“You can thank your potions professor for that. It’s a potion, a little like veritaserum, except it makes it impossible for the person to act or speak in a way contrary to the truth.”

Harry watched the scene, vaguely aware he was seeing a memory. His puzzlement at the strange surroundings came second to the realization that one of his own professors, a member of the Order, had joined the dark side. He narrowed his eyes as the memory continued to play.

“Ready to continue? You are much better at this than you are at potions, if Severus is to be believed.”

Harry let out a moan of denial and forced his way up through the darkness.

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A/N: As usual, any typing mistakes are all my own.