Funerals and Weddings

For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.


Chapter the Sixtieth: Love, Death, Punishment
27 January, afternoon

Harry was surprised to see Hedwig waiting for him in his dorm room when he returned after his meeting with Snape.

“Hello, girl, I didn’t expect to see you back here today! How could you have possibly flown all the way to London and back since yesterday?” Puzzled, Harry took the letter Hedwig carried and fed her some owl treats. She hopped onto the bed as Harry sat down on it, and he absently stroked her as he read.

Dear Harry,

I swear your owl is the smartest one I have ever known! How she knew to find me here, in Cumbria, is amazing. I’ve been here in Cumbria—in a small village south of Carlisle—for a couple of days, visiting some old family friends. I actually planned to visit Hogwarts upon leaving here, so I shall be seeing you soon.

I was horrified to hear of Bellatrix’s attempt to capture Draco and how near he came to dying. You are right, for all that Severus Snape can be unpleasant, he is amazingly skilled with Potions. I am thankful for that skill once a month, as you well know. And I am glad that Draco is all right, as well.

I will be honest with you Harry, I was not pleased to hear how you put yourself in danger by following Snape out to the lake—and then revealing yourself! Bellatrix could have very well taken it upon herself to attack you as well as Draco! But enough of that for now, we shall talk more of it when I see you.

As for the rest of your letter—yes, I must admit that your relationship with Draco came as quite a surprise! Though, if what I’ve heard about your previous history with him is accurate, I guess that intense feelings have long been a part of your interactions with Draco. I’m sure you have already faced opposition, seeing as who you are and who his father was. I will only say that I am happy if you are happy. That is what matters most.

I’m honoured that you’d come to me for advice about love, Harry. I wish that I were able to give you a definitive answer to your question. There is no one way to know when one is in love. Love is too complex of an emotion, I fear, to be categorised so neatly.

But I will never forget what your father said to me about love. It’s funny, but I’ve been thinking about this particular conversation with James quite a lot recently—and now you’ve reminded me of it again. When James told me he was in love with Lily, I asked him the same question you asked me: how did he know it was love? James told me he knew it was love because of the ‘funny ache’ he got in his heart whenever he was with her. I’ve never forgotten that. At the time, I’d never been in love, so I couldn’t judge whether or not his words held true for others, but since then I have known the exact feeling that James was describing. I know ‘a funny ache in one’s chest’ probably isn’t the answer you were looking for, but I know the sensation can be one sign, if your father’s and my own experiences are anything to go by.

Other than that, in my own experience and from my own observations, people in love always want to be together. They feel incomplete without their partner. They want to do things to make the other happy. Just being with their partner makes them happy.

I could go on, but I think you probably get the picture. If you’d like, we can speak more on this when I come to Hogwarts. I should be arriving Wednesday at the latest. I’ll let you know when I get there.

I look forward to seeing you soon. Take care and try to stay out of trouble!

Your friend,
Remus

Harry let the letter fall to his lap. Stroking her white feathers softly, Harry said to the owl, “You know, Hedwig, Remus is wrong. ‘A funny ache in one’s chest’ is exactly the kind of answer I needed. I guess this means…that I…might actually be in love. In love with Draco.” He blew out a breath and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Shit! Now what do I do?”

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At the end of the staff meeting that afternoon, Snape asked for a moment alone with the headmaster. As the other teachers were leaving, he caught Minerva McGonagall’s eye.

“You might like to hear this as well,” Snape said, gesturing her over.

“What is it Severus?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Please don’t tell me you’re going to complain about Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy! I—”

Snape waved a hand, dismissing her words. “No, no, I’ve nothing to say about that. But it is about Mr. Potter that I wish to speak.”

Dumbledore sat back down and motioned for them to sit as well. “What about Harry, Severus?”

Snape looked at the elderly wizard closely, but addressed them both. In his typically Slytherin way, he broached the subject indirectly. “Are either of you aware of Mr. Potter’s…thoughts on his future?”

McGonagall frowned. “Well, in careers advice last year, he expressed an interest in being an Auror.”

“And has he spoken with you about this since?” Snape queried.

“No,” McGonagall said. “He hasn’t. Why do you ask, Severus? Has he said something to you?”

Snape ignored her question for the moment, turning his attention to the headmaster. “And you, Albus? What do you know of Mr. Potter’s future plans?”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “Only what Minerva told me—that he showed interest in being an Auror. I don’t believe I’ve ever spoken to him personally about it.”

Snape was silent a moment, then abruptly stood to pace in front of the fireplace.

“Mr. Potter is at the age where he should be considering his future—what he wants to do, what goals he has for himself. It is something that I hear other Upper Level students chattering on about frequently. Even Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger—I’ve overheard their conversations during lessons. But I’ve never heard Mr. Potter say anything about his plans.”

“Well, you know Harry is a bit of a special case, Severus. Perhaps with everything else going on, with You-Know-Who, his godfather dying, and preparing for a war…perhaps he just hasn’t been able to give it as much thought as other students who don’t have his worries,” McGonagall rationalised.

“Well, you are right in that the war plays a part,” Snape said slowly, turning away from the fire to face them. “But it’s not because he’s too busy preparing for a war to consider his future—it’s that he doesn’t believe that he has a future to consider.”

McGonagall looked shocked. “What do you mean? Do you mean he…”

“Expects to die? Yes,” Snape responded.

Dumbledore’s expression wasn’t easy to read, but Snape could see he was distressed. “How do you know this, Severus?”

Snape returned to his seat. “He told me.”

“You don’t think it’s possible he was…well, hinting around for reassurance, do you?” McGonagall asked. “You know, saying he thought he was going to die in order to have someone tell him he wasn’t?”

Snape snorted. “Reassurance? From me? Not likely. No, he wasn’t fishing. He sat across from me, as calm as I’ve ever seen him, and very matter-of-factly told me that he was going to do everything he could to take the Dark Lord down, but that he’s ‘accepted’ the fact that he isn’t going to survive the fight.”

Reaching for the teapot, Snape poured himself another cup as he continued. “It’s not easy for me to admit, but his saying that worried me. And even more worrying than what he said is how he said it. Albus, he believes it. He doesn’t question the fact that his role in this dammed war will kill him. He even commented that the prophecy didn’t say that both will live, only that one could live.

“I don’t believe this attitude of his is…healthy. Helpful. I do not think he has the faith or the confidence in himself to have a chance at defeating the Dark Lord! Something must be done.”

McGonagall looked very distressed and Dumbledore frowned as he studied the remaining tea in his cup. Finally, he looked up and asked Snape, “What did you say to him when he told you this?”

Snape recounted what he had said to Harry, including Harry’s reasons for believing he was going to die, and his own counterarguments against Harry’s reasons. He finished by mentioning the training schedule he wanted set for Harry and Draco.

“Well, I must say, Severus, I believe you handled Harry’s statements admirably,” Dumbledore commented when Snape had fallen silent. “Do you think he listened to you?”

Snape nodded. “Yes. I’ve never kept my feelings about the boy hidden, but I have to admit he’s changed. He was very calm, very attentive. He told me I’d given him a lot to think about.”

“Good. Yes, Harry has changed. He is no longer a boy, but a man. A young, untested man, but a man,” Dumbledore responded in a thoughtful tone.

McGonagall spoke up. “What else can we do? I agree with Severus, it isn’t good for Harry to have this…belief of his certain death. It could cause him to be less than diligent in his preparations. But I’m not sure what we can do, other than what Severus has already done—talked with him frankly.”

“What about Draco?” the headmaster asked suddenly.

“What about Draco?” Snape returned.

“Perhaps Draco could be of assistance. If I can correctly remember that far back, young lovers take great stock in the words and beliefs of their other half. It may be that Draco could—subtly, of course—dissuade Harry from his notions.”

A grim sort of smile came to Snape’s face. “Yes, you may have something there. Potter even told me today that Draco was, er, one of his ‘reasons for living.’” Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he spoke.

Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled at his Potions master’s obvious discomfort. “Excellent! Severus, can I prevail upon you to speak to young Mr. Malfoy about this matter?”

“Subtle. Remind him to be subtle,” McGonagall cautioned. “I know Mr. Potter—he can be very stubborn and if he suspects that Mr. Malfoy is just trying to placate him or pity him, it won’t work.”

Snape shot his fellow head of house a withering look. “Need I remind you, Minerva, that Draco is a Slytherin? Slytherins wrote the book on subtlety.”

With that, he rose and nodded. “Thank you for your time. I shall see you later.”

Dumbledore stood as well. “Thank you, Severus, for bringing this to our attention. I appreciate your looking out for Harry this way.”

Snape paused at the door and sent an unreadable look at his twinkly-eyed headmaster. Without deigning to answer, he left the room in a swirl of robes.

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The Dark Lord looked dispassionately at the woman kneeling at his feet. She had failed. One of his followers had failed him yet again. Hissing his displeasure, he kicked out and knocked the woman backwards.

“Well,” he hissed, “what do you have to sssay for yourssself?”

Bellatrix remained on her knees with her head respectfully lowered, but surreptitiously watched him through the screen of her long, black hair.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. “I have failed you. I have no excuse. I know you are angry, and rightfully so, but please, I beg your mercy, lord.”

Voldemort was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You asssk for mercy? There will be no dissscusssssssion of mercy until I hear what transsspired. What happened? Where did you go wrong?”

As Bellatrix recounted the events at Hogwarts, she felt the familiar sensation of fingers probing at her mind as Voldemort examined her for deception. When she had finished reporting, she fell silent and waited with baited breath for the familiar agony/ecstasy of the Cruciatus Curse to wash over her. She was mildly surprised—and disappointed—when it didn’t happen.

“You sssay that Potter went to the aid of the Malfoy brat?” the sibilant voice finally broke the silence.

“Yes, my lord. Potter was holding my traitorous nephew…and kissing him,” Bellatrix replied, allowing the disgust she felt to colour her words. “You were correct, as always, my lord; Dumbledore’s Golden Boy is buggering Lucius’ precious son.” Knowing Voldemort couldn’t see her face, covered as it was by her hair, she smirked at little at the thought of how Lucius would have reacted to the news about Potter and his heir.

“What about Ssseverusss Sssnape? You sssay he duelled you…did he play hisss part well?”

Bellatrix grimaced. She couldn’t stand slimy Snape, and certainly didn’t trust him, but she couldn’t lie—the Dark Lord always knew when someone lied. She knew her Master wanted to know if Snape seemed to be playing more on Dumbledore’s side of the fence, or if he was truly a loyal servant.

“Yes, my lord. I will admit that Snape did not employ his full arsenal of spells. He used only mid-level curses and hexes, ones I could easily deflect or dodge. He put forth just enough effort to make the duel seem realistic, but he did not make any real attempt to kill or capture me,” she said grudgingly. She couldn’t help herself from adding, “But he was the reason that I ran out of time and the Polyjuice wore off! If he hadn’t come along and blathered on and on about utter nonsense, I would have had enough time to get Draco outside the wards. My lord, I was so close—just metres away. If only Snape hadn’t gotten in the way, I—”

“Enough,” Voldemort hissed at her. “I did not asssk for excusssessss. Perhapsss I was wrong in not letting Sssnape know of our plan. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing that it was really you, not Narcissssssa, ssseeking to remove young Malfoy from the groundsss. It isss too late now, but I am pleasssed to hear he played hisss role ssso well once he knew it wasss you. What about the curssssesss you sssaid you usssed on Malfoy? What did you ussse? Sssomething potent enough to have caussssed lasssting harm, I hope?”

Bellatrix risked looking up briefly, then bowed her head again. “Yes, my lord. I used the Flesh-Burning Curse and the Soul Stealing Curse. I know he felt the effects of the Flesh-Burning Curse; I could see his pain. As for the Soul-Stealing Curse, I am not sure of the effects. Snape cut me off before I could finish casting it. It is possible that the curse killed him anyway,” she said, then added bitterly, “Yet another way Snape helped to ruin our plan.”

There was a long silence. Bellatrix wondered nervously what was running through her Master’s mind.

“The Sssoul-Ssstealing Curssse? I can only assssssume you have a very good reassson for usssing a killing ssspell when my ssspecific ordersss were for…capture?” The menace in the Dark Lord’s tone was not lost on his subject.

Bellatrix winced inwardly, but outwardly showed no fear. “Yes, my lord. I cast the curse after my cover was blown and I knew there was no hope of capturing the traitor. I…I apologise, my lord, for acting outside your wishes. I allowed my rage about my nephew’s betrayal of our family to guide my hand. It…shall not happen again, my lord.”

“If you value your posssition and your life, you will remember that promisssse,” Voldemort warned. “It is fortunate that Sssnape cut you off before you could finissssh the curssse. How nice it isss to know that I have at leassst one in my ssservice who can obey my wissshesss.”

Bellatrix fumed in silence. If she wasn’t in such trouble already, she would have shared her suspicions with man she served: Snape prevented her from completing the spell in order to save Draco, not in any desire to keep him alive on his Master’s orders. But her assertions that Snape’s loyalty should be doubted were only ever heard when the Dark Lord was willing to listen, and now was not that time. She returned her attention to Voldemort when he began speaking again.

“The ssspell did not kill young Malfoy. I attempted to enter hisss mind thisss morning; he isss mossst definitely alive. Unfortunately, I wasss not able to glean any ussseful information from him. I believe Luciussss’ blood issss too old to be of much usssse, and the boy is usssing Occlumency asss well. It isss disssappointing, but not a major sssetback; I will ssstill continue to manipulate Potter’s dreamssss.”

The snake-faced man fell silent. Bellatrix waited, her knees cold from kneeling on the stone floor of the dungeon.

“We ssshall continue with our massster plan. You will need to devissse another way to capture your nephew, my sssweet—and ssssoon,” he said, then paused. After a moment, he lifted his wand and continued: “And now…for your punisssshment…”

Bellatrix felt a thrill of anticipation shoot down her spine. She’d barely braced herself when she heard the hissed, “Crucio!” and the terrible, delicious pain had her writhing on her back. After only a few moments of this exquisite torture, however, the curse was lifted.

Bellatrix pushed up on her hands and looked at her Lord in confusion. Voldemort’s nearly non-existent lips stretched into a smile.

“You may go,” he said, waving a hand negligently.

Bellatrix pushed herself to her feet. “My lord…is that all? Surely—”

“Sssurely your failure dessservesss a harsssher punissshment? Oh, it doesss. Thisss isss your punissshment, Bella—jussst a tassste of what you ssso enjoy. Enough to teassse, but not nearly enough to sssatisssfy. You forget how well I know you, my dear,” he said, leering at her. “Now leave me.”

Astounded, Bellatrix moved to the doorway. Her husband met her in the outside corridor.

“Are you all right? Was his punishment very harsh?” he asked.

Bellatrix just stared at him. “The worst ever,” she whispered.

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A/N: Wow, I hadn’t realised it had been so long since I updated! Many apologies! Hope you enjoy!

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