Fantasy House

"It\'s been over two months, Harry."



The bespectacled man glanced up from the parchment he was holding to look at his fiancée. He sighed and placed the parchment back onto his desk. "And I\'m at a loss," he admitted. "Ron and I have been through every bit of Malfoy\'s private chambers. We\'ve gone through documents, transcripts, and receipts. And we\'ve come up empty."



"What about villas? Townhouses?" she offered. "Surely the Manor isn\'t the only property Malfoy owns?"



Harry shook his head. "I still don\'t think he\'s guilty. Somehow, I don\'t see either of the Malfoys kidnapping Hermione, Sirius, or Remus. And what about Snape?"



"Maybe he\'s in on it?" she suggested.



The raven-haired man snorted. "Come off it, Ginny. This is Snape we\'re talking about! Something like this would put him right in the spotlight and you and I both know he hates such things. Never mind the fact that this is a one-way ticket to Azkaban."



The redhead tilted her head as she gazed at her soon-to-be husband. "That\'s why you don\'t think the Malfoys are responsible, huh?" she guessed.



He nodded. "Exactly. Why would they do something that could potentially put them in the place they worked so hard to stay out of? I fought hard for them on the witness stand. Hermione fought hard for them. The Malfoys are many things, but a couple of idiots isn\'t one of them. They\'re not stupid enough to do something this crazy. They\'d be too scared to end up in Azkaban. Or, in Lucius\' case, back in Azkaban."



"They stayed with Voldemort," she pointed out.



"Only because they had no choice," Harry argued. "And, besides, they didn\'t really follow him. They only did what was necessary to stay alive from the moment Lucius got out of prison. Even before that, they didn\'t do much."



"I just know they are together," Ginny stated, sitting on the couch in the office.



Harry nodded as he leaned back in his chair. He normally enjoyed sitting in his home office. The cedar wood furnishings with soft leather couch and chairs made it a comfortable setting. His large bookcase always brightened up Hermione\'s face when she stopped by. And he absolutely adored his huge Gryffindor rug which lay proudly in the middle of the floor. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hung above the fireplace mantle completed the room.



For the past few weeks, however, Harry had spent more time in his office than he ever thought possible. And each day, he was more frustrated and stressed out. Where were they? How did six very powerful and brilliant people just vanish into thin air? And how was he expected to find them with absolutely no clues?



Then, a thought crossed his mind and he sat up. All this time he had been searching through the Manor. He had taken things from Lucius\' playroom and office. Books and books of his records. But, hadn\'t Narcissa said that her ex-husband no longer lived in the Manor?



As Harry thought on it, he remembered: no, Lucius hadn\'t been living in the Manor! Not for a while. In fact, Lucius had come to him just a couple weeks before he vanished asking for Harry\'s help in getting the Manor back. He had been staying with his son in a penthouse they owned in Bristol.



Not that it would matter anyway, because Harry knew the Malfoys were not suspects. In fact, the only reason why he had sought entry into the Manor was to find proof that they were innocent. All that stuff in the "playroom" and not a single receipt to show for it. The Malfoys did not steal things. They had no reason to with a Gringotts vault full of Galleons. Where were those receipts?



Furthermore, if Lucius didn\'t buy those things, then who did? And why were they in the Manor?



A brief smile flitted across Harry\'s face. Hermione would have been proud if she knew that he was working these problems out so logically. He frowned again. He really needed to pick her brain.



"That\'s it!" he shouted, standing up suddenly and pushing his chair back.



Ginny jumped. "What?"



Harry rushed around the desk and out of the room.



Ginny hurriedly followed him. "What\'s going on?" she asked.



Taking his travel cloak out of the hall closet, Harry turned to her as he put it on. "I have to get back to Hermione\'s flat in London. If there\'s anything, any clue to their disappearance, it would be there," he told her.



Her eyes widened. As he stepped out the door, she called out, "I\'ll Floo Ron and have him meet you there."



(II) (II)



Hermione had given Harry and Ron full access to her flat when she had first moved in three years ago. Her stress over Snape\'s condition, both in the hospital and the courts, had demanded it. Not to mention, the three had wanted to be in constant contact with one another. Likewise, Harry and Hermione had full access to Ron\'s flat. And Harry\'s two best friends could enter his house any time they wanted or needed.



Harry slipped the key into the bottom lock and opened the door. As he did so, he paid close attention to the door and the top and bottom locks. He gazed at the doorknob with a critical eye, looking for any indication that it might have been handled roughly. As the door opened, he glanced down at the strike plate for the doorknob, then up at the strike plate for the bolt. His eyes then trailed along the doorstopper, looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary.



He heard the fireplace come to life and looked into the living room to see Ron stepping out of the green flames.



"Ginny told me you would be here," the redhead stated, dusting himself off.



Only a handful of people had access to Hermione\'s Floo aside from herself: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Remus, Sirius, George, Angelina, McGonagall, and Snape. Harry knew whom she allowed and knew no one else could get through. Everyone else had to use the front door.



"What are we looking for?" the youngest Weasley man asked.



Harry glanced around. "Let\'s start with forced entry. I\'ve already checked the door," he replied.



"So, windows and the patio?" Ron suggested.



"And Crookshanks’ door, I believe."



Ron nodded and the two men went to work, checking the patio door carefully, as well as the small cat door Hermione had built in the wall right next to the sliding glass door. When all of that came up alright, they started searching the windows.



Harry was checking the window in the living room when he heard Ron\'s shout from the bedroom. Immediately, Harry raced into the room. "What is it? What\'dya find?" he queried, out of breath.



Ron picked up the piece of vine wood. "Why would she leave her wand?"



The bespectacled man shook his head. "I suppose the kidnappers wouldn\'t want her to have it," he suggested. "This just confirms that she was taken without her consent."



"But, by whom?" Weasley asked, looking down at the wand sadly. "Who could have taken her? And why?"



"Keep searching," Harry ordered, going back into the living room to finish his assessment of the window.



Once they had finished going over all the entry points, they met up in the kitchen. Harry leaned against the counter. "It must have been someone she knew. They must have knocked on the door and she invited them in," he surmised.



"Or, they knocked, she answered, told them to go away, and they forced themselves in," Ron proposed.



Harry quickly rejected that idea. "No, Hermione would have fought. There would be some sign of a fight or struggle."



Ron looked around. "Maybe we should look around a bit more. There has to be something, Harry."



Harry agreed and they continued their search. Two and a half hours later, they each collapsed in an armchair in the living room. Neither wanted to admit defeat, but there it was. Nothing. Ron let out a frustrated moan.



Where was it? Where was the sign? There had to be something! Hermione wouldn\'t just disappear. She wouldn\'t just leave them empty-handed. Harry knew this, but he\'d be damned if he knew what the sign was.



"I\'m getting a drink. Would you like one?" the raven-haired man asked his friend.



Ron nodded. "Firewhiskey if she has any. I\'ll pay her back."



Harry stood and headed over to the liquor cabinet. As he opened the door and looked inside, his eyes narrowed. He picked up an unlabelled bottle and opened it. Sniffing the contents, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp. "Ron! Come look!" he said, a little louder than he had meant.



Ron rose from his seat and walked to the cabinet, looking at what Harry was pointing at. He stared at it for a while, but then looked at his friend in confusion. "What?"



Harry rolled his eyes and pointed at the glasses. "Hermione always, always sets her glasses upside down. She claims it helps keep the bugs out. And when was the last time she opened a bottle of oak-matured mead?"



Ron scoffed, "You know her better than that, Harry. She doesn\'t drink..." his voice softened as he finished his sentence, "oak-matured mead."



Harry gave his best friend the bottle and allowed him to sniff the contents. "We\'ll have to get it tested. How much do you want to bet they drugged her? Probably spiked her drink with this stuff and then carried her out."



"She would have known it was mead when she tasted it," Ron pointed out.



But Harry was steadfast. "For some potions, all that\'s required is for the drink to pass the lips. It wouldn\'t take much and she\'d be gone before she had time to spit it out."



Ron\'s eyes widened as he realized Harry was right. Harry recorked the bottle and the two began looking for spittle or any form of liquid on the floor. But Harry already knew they wouldn\'t find anything.



"Whomever it was knew what they were doing. They timed it perfectly. Made sure she was alone, offered her a drink, and then took the time to clean up their mess," he commented. He glanced back at the glasses. "They were even kind enough to wash the glass she drank out of. Or, at the very least, vanish it."



Ron sighed and sat back down in one of the armchairs. "So, it was someone she knew," he said. "Someone they all know. Who do they all know? I mean, I can think of a bunch of people each one knows, or two or three of them know. But, who do all of them know?"



Harry shrugged. "And, there\'s still the possibility that there\'s more than one person involved," he stated. "I think Narcissa Malfoy knows more then she\'s letting on."



"What do you mean?" Ron asked.



"Don\'t you think it\'s odd?" Harry responded. "Narcissa knows that Lucius hasn\'t lived in the Manor for almost a year now, because she\'s lived there alone since their divorce. So, wouldn\'t it be odd for her to so willingly help us with a search warrant into her own home to look through her ex-husband\'s things? Furthermore, she seemed so ready to point out that he was her ex, so why keep all of that stuff? And a \'play room\'? Why would she willingly give us that information and seem so... comfortable, if not eager?"



Ron\'s eyes widened. Why, indeed? But then he shook his head. "Harry, listen. I know what you\'re saying, I do. But what would she gain in all of this? If what I think you\'re saying is true, what\'s her motivator? And what does this have to do with the other disappearances?"



Harry shrugged. "There\'s only one way to find out. I want to go to Grimmauld Place," he said.



"Why?"



"Because it\'s the closest. I want to do a thorough search of the property, just like we did with this flat. I want to try to find out what Sirius was doing before he was taken," the raven-haired man explained.



"But," the red head started, "there\'s a problem with that. Don\'t you live with Sirius?"



Harry nodded. "But I haven\'t touched his stuff. I haven\'t been in his room. If there\'s anything, any hint at all of his disappearance, it would most likely be there."



(III) (III)



Remus found Severus sitting on the edge of the enormous bed. He quietly shut the door behind him, knowing it wouldn\'t lock. The bedroom was the only room in the entire house which didn\'t have a lock on it.



The black-haired Slytherin had his elbows on his knees and was holding his face in his hands. The werewolf knew Snape wasn\'t crying. From what he knew, the Potions master never cried. But he did look like a man who was much older than his physical appearance indicated.



"Severus," Remus said softly, drawing the other man\'s attention.



The Slytherin\'s head snapped up and he glared at the werewolf. "What do you want, Lupin?" he sneered.



The Gryffindor glanced about the room for a moment, a bit unsure. Having a heart to heart with Harry or Hermione was one thing. Remus had spent countless hours in Andromeda\'s sitting room talking with her about Ted and Nymphadora. But this was different. How do you open sensitive dialogue with a man who has every reason to hate you?



Remus said nothing as he took a seat next to Severus. For a while, they both just sat there, lost in their own thoughts.



"I never knew anyone could be so beautiful," the werewolf whispered after a while. "I remember the day of our Sorting so well. The way her hair fell in waves over her shoulder, it looked like red wine. And when the Sorting hat called out \'Gryffindor,\' I thought for sure I\'d be able to catch a glimpse of her smile, but she seemed more disappointed than happy."



Severus said nothing, did nothing to dissuade the werewolf\'s speech, so Remus continued, "After I was Sorted into Gryffindor, I was happy. I thought for certain I\'d be able to meet the red-haired beauty. But I didn\'t." A frown creased his forehead as he remembered how shy and nervous he had been.



What if she didn\'t like him? What if she found out about his... condition? How could he possibly show any interest in her when he was afflicted like this? What if he hurt her?



The silence dragged on and Remus\' mind began to wander. A smile crept across his face and he spoke again in the same tones. "Not that it mattered. She befriended me anyway, right after Charms class. I was putting away my books; most of the students had already filed out. When I stood up to leave, we quite literally bumped into one another and she dropped all of her notes. I apologized profusely and bent down to pick them up for her.



"Of course, she claimed it was her fault. The moment I heard her voice, I knew who it was. She was quite the talkative person. \'You\'re Remus Lupin, aren\'t you? I\'ve heard you\'re really smart. What did you think of today\'s lesson? Are you excited about our Transfiguration project? Sev says it\'s absolutely ridiculous, but I don\'t think so.\'



"I had no idea what she was saying half the time. But she was so bright and so welcoming. We starting sitting next to one another in Charms and Herbology. When she spoke to me, I could actually feel my heart melting."



"What makes you think I want to hear any of this, Lupin?" Severus interrupted with a growl.



Remus took a moment and glanced at the man next to him. "I don\'t," he admitted, before glancing at the floor. He leaned backwards until he was lying upon the bed.



Staring up at the ceiling, the werewolf continued as though he hadn\'t been interrupted. "Those days were mad. The transformations were extremely painful. But none of that mattered because, for the first time since I had been bitten, I had a friend... I miss her."



He sighed and became quiet again. It hadn\'t been long after he had made friends with Lily that James and Sirius befriended him. They even took little Peter under their wing. To this day, Remus was grateful for the friends he had made. Dumbledore had been right.



He knew better than to bring up the day she died. He knew Severus blamed himself for that moment. Bringing it up would do nothing more than bring the Slytherin into an even darker mood. He also didn\'t think his commentary on the Marauders would help either, so he remained silent.



Thoughts of Lily passed through his mind until they changed to a messy haired boy with round spectacles. His first real job as a teacher had been one of the best years of Remus\' life. Teaching student after eager student how to defend themselves against creatures akin to him had brought a light to Remus that the werewolf hadn\'t realized was dim.



Of course, Remus had always been an eager student himself. And teaching, for him, was one of the greatest learning experiences. He had had the chance to instill knowledge to children and help them with their problems. Harry hadn\'t been the only student to come to him and talk. Many students had come and he had helped them all. For the first time, he actually grieved for his classroom.



But it wasn\'t meant to be. Remus realized that during the night of Sirius\' escape--the same night when Peter got away. The night he transformed without his medication. The night he almost destroyed the lives of five innocent people.



Remus had never forgiven himself for that night. He closed his eyes to try and block out the painful memory. "How do you do it?" he asked, his voice barely higher than a whisper.



"Do what?" Snape returned, his voice gruff.



Remus opened his eyes and glanced at the naked man\'s back. "Every time I try to think about her, about what was, what could have been, what might have been, what should have been, I feel... guilt. Consuming guilt. When I think about my time as a professor, all I can recall is how stupid I was to forget my potion that night. When I think of Tonks, I can\'t help but chastise myself. It should have been me. I was supposed to die. The spell was meant for me, not her," he said, his cheeks tinged pink from emotion as he glanced back up at the ceiling. "How do you live with it?"



At that moment, Remus hated himself. Of course, he never really liked himself to begin with. There were moments, he knew. Moments spent laughing with Lily, talking to Harry, or making love with his Nymph, that he believed he could love himself. But those moments were quickly overshadowed with darker things.



"Whoever said I did?" Severus questioned, lying down next to the werewolf as though suddenly exhausted. He sighed. "I just had sex with my godson, a boy I\'ve known since the day he was born. I killed Dumbledore with the flick of my wand and an incantation I had desperately never wanted to utter."



The Slytherin turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at the Gryffindor. "Do you think I enjoyed doing these things, wolf?" he asked, his voice rough with anger and self-hate. "For fifteen years I taught classroom after classroom full of dunderheads who cared as much about Potions as they did about the cobwebs between their ears. And when I wasn\'t teaching, I became a puppet. A tool that was used by both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. The only person who ever gave a damn about me died because of my own foolish actions.



"And if that wasn\'t punishment enough, she left behind her son for me to protect! He couldn\'t look like her, act like her, or resemble her in any way, except for his fucking eyes. Every time I looked at him, I tried to think of her, but all I could think of was that arse who had stolen her from me. The arse who hated me from the moment we were on the train and I spoke highly of Slytherin."



Snape let himself fall back onto the bed and rolled onto his back. "I never did anything to them," he said, unsure why he was confessing anything to the werewolf. "I wasn\'t even talking to them. I was talking to her. We were friends. We were the best of friends. I didn\'t give a damn about anyone else in that compartment. I was excited that we were going to Hogwarts. I was getting away from the bastard who raised me and I was going to spend the next seven years getting closer to her. Maybe, if I was lucky enough, she\'d fancy me."



He became quiet after he said that. He hated talking about Lily. He rarely ever said her name anymore. It was too painful. He had never deserved her, not even then. He was nothing. A stain upon House Slytherin, a bane to his parents. Lily had deserved better than him. She had gotten better, too, and that made him hate Potter all the more.



Severus, on the other hand, had failed Lily when she had needed him the most.



He had cried when he heard of her death. He still remembered sitting in Dumbledore\'s office, cursing himself as tears slid down his cheeks. After that, however, he hadn\'t cried at all. He didn\'t cry even now. His self-loathing was so great, he did not believe he deserved to cry. Tears were a release, and he didn’t deserve a release, from his self-imposed prison.



Remus could feel the hatred emanating from Severus. He knew the man hated himself and he understood the feeling. Remus wasn\'t exactly fond of himself either, especially after all that had happened. Too many people had died or almost died because of him. His son would grow up without a mother because of him.



Remus stared fixedly at the ceiling. As he did so, he thought he could make out a shape in the small dots. He stared hard at it, trying to figure out what it was. After a few moments, he thought he could almost make out the shape of a woman\'s face. He could definitely see her eyes and a small button nose. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him. After all, it was a bunch of dots on the ceiling created by paint. They were just a jumbled mess. But he could certainly see a woman\'s face there. And she was smiling at him. But who...?



He recalled seeing a similar smile earlier that day. He and Hermione had been out testing the barrier. They knew some animals and insects had gotten trapped inside the barrier. What they hadn\'t expected was for a butterfly to land very delicately on Remus\' nose. He had scrunched up his nose and moved it in an attempt to get the butterfly off.



The sound of Hermione’s laughter echoed in his mind and he stared even harder at the ceiling. It was Hermione. Somehow, some way, his mind had conjured Hermione\'s face and had etched it into the ceiling.



During his year as professor, Remus had been amazed by the third year Gryffindor. She had shown the same keen interest in learning as he had at her age. In many ways, she had reminded him of Lily, especially the way she would raise her hand, desperate to be chosen to answer the question. But Hermione had lacked confidence in other areas--for example, unlike Lily, Hermione never found herself particularly attractive. Of course, Lily was by no means vain, but she knew guys looked at her and she understood why. She just didn\'t care for them. By contrast, Hermione was completely clueless. She never noticed the looks boys her age gave her. She was too wrapped up in studying her books and helping Harry and Ron. She didn\'t take time to fix her hair or don make-up.



Not that she needed make-up. Like Lily, Hermione had a natural beauty that didn\'t really need any enhancers. She was perfect just the way she was. At least, that\'s how Remus felt. But then he felt that way about all the women he had ever taken an interest in. He had hated it when Nymphadora rouged her lips or some other silly thing.



He stared at the image his mind had conjured of Hermione. What did it mean? Why, when he was talking to Snape about Lily, did he see Hermione? Why, when his mind was thinking of Nymphadora and the horrible things he had done, did he hear Hermione\'s laugh? And why, when he thought about how much he hated himself, could he not shed a tear?

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Author\'s Note: Many thanks to my team of betas, FM, Lizzy, Pink, QQ. You wrock my life!