Sacrifice

"Sir? Is everything alright?" Pausing on his way out of the dining room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Frank Longbottom studied Dumbledore's stooped shoulders.

Tonight's meeting had been tense; with the rising tide of war, the Order's resources were spread precariously thin and tempers were high. Add to that, the unresolved conflict between Frank's fellow Auror, Moody, and their leader simmered just barely below the surface. Their last mission had been...

Frank swallowed hard, unwilling to let his thoughts swirl down that rabbit hole. They'd lost good men, enough said.

When the Headmaster didn't look up, Frank asked again, "Sir?"

With an uncharacteristic jerk, Dumbledore seemed to come back to himself. "My apologies my boy, I was a bit preoccupied it would seem." He managed a half smile, "this war is driving us all to distraction; what did you need?"

"Is there anything I can do to help? Alice is doing the shopping and my shift isn't for another few hours."
Tucking his hands into his pocket, Frank shrugged, "I can handle a few errands."

Albus huffed a soft sigh, and sipped at his tea. "I don't believe so, Mr. Longbottom, although your offer is appreciated."

Just as Frank turned, Dumbledore called, "Actually, Frank...if you don't mind, Mr. Snape's Floo connection went out unexpectedly this morning and I have yet to notify him of tomorrow's meeting. I believe Mrs. Weasley has his address-"

"Of course, sir." Frank forced himself not to grimace; Severus barely tolerated his presence during the briefings and though Frank was a year older than him, the younger Slytherin looked at him with thinly veiled disdain.

Ironic, he thought, considering if any of their operations went poorly, it was likely he'd be the one hauling Snape off to Azkaban.

Honestly, their spy was a little terrifying: those dry, caustic insults and the way he could render even the oldest Order members silent with a glare were uncanny, but after watching him single-handedly take on several of the Order’s senior members as proof of his capability, Frank knew better than to get on the wrong end of Severus’ wand. He was curious to see how the kid was holding up post-Hogwarts though. Last they'd spoken, Severus seemed beyond ready to be finished with school.

Ducking into the kitchen, he found Molly Weasley, her hands covered in suds up to her elbows, speaking with her husband and Auror Moody.

"Some more tea, dear?" Molly offered, holding the kettle out.

Shaking his head, Frank hopped onto the counter swinging his legs absently. "Do you know Snape's address? Dumbledore wants me to pass on the next meeting's details since his Floo's out."

"Order missions are to be kept confidential, Longbottom," Moody groused. "There's a reason none of us know everything. If you keep broadcasting schedules like that, you'll get us all ambushed, like as not."

Cheeks reddening, Frank opened his mouth to respond. Honestly, the older Auror still treated him like a kid!

"It wasn't anything like that, Alastor," Molly murmured, slipping easily between the two with a reproving glance. "As much as I admire your constant vigilance," her eyes twinkled at Frank, "we've just spent the last hour discussing tactics in front of each other. I think if any of us were Poly-juiced, learning that Severus' Floo is down will hardly tip the entire balance of this war."

"Never underestimate the value of the seemingly insignificant," Alastor muttered, but he didn't argue further.

"I don't know why we can't just send a Patronus-" Frank said.

"Absolutely not," Alastor snapped. He and Molly exchanged meaningful looks; there was definitely a story there and if he didn't have an assignment, Frank would've stayed to find it out
.
"Anyway, to answer your question," Molly smiled, "Sev's from a mining town; Cokeworth, I believe." She dried another mug, "I'd offer to go and show you but Fred and George only have the sitter for another half an hour."

"It's no problem Mrs. Weasley," he straightened his shoulders, "how hard could it be?"
As Alastor opened his mouth, most likely to deliver another one of his supposedly sage anecdotes, Frank quickly hopped off the counter and hurried out of the room.

"Cokeworth...." he mused, "well, I guess a little fresh air could be nice."

***

Frank's first impression of the town was gray. The center of Cokeworth, if it could even be called a town, held a dilapidated mercantile, a grocer's, and a post office. Next to the postal office stood a ramshackle jail and the mayor's office, although both looked deserted. In fact, the busiest spot in Cokeworth seemed to be the pubs, which were packed in spite of the early hour.

Avoiding the raucous establishment closest to him, Frank set off down one of the narrow streets, pausing in a dingy alley to cast a Point Me spell.

As he followed the gentle shifting of his wand, concealed carefully in his sleeve, the Auror allowed himself the chance to examine the place where Snape had grown up.

Some of the houses were nicer than others, but the poverty here was evident. Most of the homes were in serious disrepair: paint peeled, porch railings crumbled, and weeds overran the scraggly patches of grass masquerading as yards.

When he passed a park, the rusted swings creaking, a group of rag-tag children watched him, wide eyes staring above hollow cheeks.

At last, the wand spun one final time, nudging him towards a mid-size Victorian-style mansion. Once, the home might have been pretty, but the paint had faded to an ugly puce green, shingles were missing from the roof, and the arched trellis guarding the gate sagged pathetically under a shriveled vine.

Outside the gate, Frank pulled up short, staring at the front of the house in surprise.

Four teenagers lounged on the porch, three boys and a girl. Severus, his distinctive black hair pulled up in a messy bun, wore headphones over one ear, fingers brushing lightly against the Walkman on his lap.

The girl, gleaming hoops in her ears and nose, was painting her nails, nestled against one of the boys, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The last youth, a sinewy blonde in an oversized Muggle sweater was smiling at Severus, his fingers tapping against Severus' wrist, occasionally brushing over the other boy's exposed Dark Mark.

It was the girl who noticed Frank first, sitting up suddenly and nudging Snape, her eyes flitting toward the gate.

Severus looked up, and surprise flashed across his face, followed after a moment by a faint flush of embarrassment. He muttered something to the others before gesturing for the Auror to come in.

As Frank walked up to the porch, the teens collected their belongings, the first boy extinguishing his cigarette as the older wizard joined them. Waving his hand to clear the scent of tobacco from his nostrils, Frank settled on the step across from Severus.

Hopping off the porch, the girl smirked at Snape and gave him a half flirtatious wave as she and her boyfriend strolled out the gate. "See ya, Sev."

The blonde handed Snape the bottle, their fingers tangling for a moment, and leaned down to brush a chaste kiss across Severus' cheek, murmuring something that made Snape's cheeks redden.
Standing, the taller boy's eyes ran searchingly over Frank before he stepped off the porch and sauntered out of the yard.

Still flushed, Severus took a quick sip from the bottle, and glanced at Frank. "I didn't know you were coming," he muttered.

Unable to resist some amusement at Snape's obvious discomfort, Frank grinned. "I gathered. Nice bunch there; friends of yours?"

Picking half-heartedly at his nails, painted black, Frank noted, Snape snorted. "I do socialize, you know; I might be a reclusive academic at Hogwarts but that doesn't mean I don't have friends." His eyes trailed along the path where the other teens had gone, "We grew up together; they're nice enough... Normal."

With a quiet hum of acknowledgement, Frank absently brushed at the ashes scattered across the porch, taking a moment to study his companion out of the corner of his eye.

The Slytherin had exchanged his typical Goth attire for a shirt that may have been blue at one point but had faded to a gray. Jeans, worn through at the knees, and black Converse with frayed laces finished the outfit.

Apparently sensing the Auror's scrutiny, Severus flipped his arm against his stomach, hiding the Dark Mark, and looked up. "How'd you find out where I lived?"

"Molly Weasley. The woman is a wealth of information if you know what to ask." Leaning back on his hands, Frank glanced pointedly at the bottle in Snape's hand, "I thought you weren't drinking anymore."

"I said I wouldn't get drunk."

Frank didn't bother acknowledging that; debating semantics with Severus was not something he felt equipped for today. Besides, it wasn't technically his job to parent the kid; he was barely older than Snape.
Instead, he waited.

After a moment, the teen huffed and thrust the bottle at him. "It's a Muggle drink," he muttered, "Coke."

Examining the bottle, Frank took a curious sip and felt his face scrunch at the flavor. It was so...bubbly.

At his side, Severus' shoulders shook with silent laughter, and the boy reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Not a fan?"

"You can keep it," Frank passed the bottle back.

"It's not for everyone. Harley doesn't like it either," Snape waved vaguely at the gate, "the girl. She did my nails," he offered, by way of explanation.

"It suits," Frank smiled softly when Snape straightened, letting his hands open instead of hiding them.

"Yeah.. Blake, her boyfriend, says it looks punk." Twisting the cord of his walkman around his fingers, the Slytherin stared at the floorboards. "Reg," his voice stuttered a bit and Frank remembered, vaguely, Sirius' younger brother, "used to do his. Figured it was a good reminder."
"And your other friend? The blonde? Who was he?" Frank tried to keep his tone light, neutral, but he did wonder.

Severus tensed, obviously unsure how this conversation was going to go.

"I... He's- Evan's staying in a flat down the road," he finished lamely. "He's from school," at Frank's look, the younger teen added, "Doesn't leave the common room much. We just...hang out sometimes. Nothing serious though. I... he's experimenting and I'm..." Snape winced, "screwed."

From Snape's embarrassment, Frank guessed their 'friendship' wasn't entirely accepted by the community, but he didn't push the issue.

"Your Floo's down."

Severus nodded, taking another swig from the bottle before responding. "I didn't feel like talking to Albus earlier. Glad to see the wards are working. I assume there's a meeting or you wouldn't be here?"

Smirking in spite of himself at Snape's nerve, Frank said, "Yes, tonight. You know the drill: we start at six but," he shrugged, "you kind of get a pass."

"Yes," Severus' tone was dry, "so sorry my being tortured by the Dark Lord causes such a scheduling inconvenience. I'll be sure to let him know my evening's booked so he can make sure to Crucio me before Albus requires my services."

It took Frank a moment to realize he was joking, but the laughter between them felt hollow.
"Hey Snape?"

The boy cocked his head.
"I- I'm sorry. About your friend. When we found the body-"

He was cut off by a crash from inside the house followed by, "BOY! Get your arse in here or I SWEAR you'll be sorry!"

Snape flinched, grabbing a piece of siding from the house and shoving the Walkman frantically behind it. "You'd better go," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

"You little bastard, if you're not here in ten seconds-" The volume in the house increased.

Alarmed, Frank stared at the house, "are you sure you'll be-"

"Yeah, I can handle him-" Severus grabbed the door and wrenched it open, in time for a slew of curses to spill through the crack before he shut it firmly in Frank's face.
With a sigh, the Auror pushed himself to his feet and hopped off the porch.

***

Panting, Frank dodged behind a tree to avoid a wicked stunning spell. "Where the hell did they come from?" He hissed, glaring across the clearing at his partner, Auror Grieves. Grieves, another new recruit with Weasley-worthy red hair, shook his head, clearly worried.

Chancing a brief glance around the tree, Frank attempted to count how many black-robed figures were across from them, but a fiery curse singed his shoulder and he hurriedly pulled back. "Did you call for backup?"

Grieves nodded, fingers clutching his wand tightly. "I sent a Patronus but the department's swamped." He swallowed hard, "I don't know how soon they'll respond."

Taking a breath, Frank nodded. "We'll have to make it work." Murmuring a soft shielding spell under his breath, he looked to Grieves and the two plunged into the foray, back to back to cover each other's blind spots.

The Death Eaters decidedly outnumbered them, but Frank found himself able to recognize a few of his more frequent dueling partners. White-blonde hair peeking out from under a mask betrayed one of the Malfoys; he guessed Lucius since the boy had a tendency to cast slightly to the left when stressed and this man's spells were decidedly crooked.

A cackling, high-pitched laughter revealed Bellatrix Lestrange and Frank felt his chest clench. Little Bella had been an aggressive, condescending child at Hogwarts, and it had grown into an all-encompassing fury after her graduation. Her skill with a wand was note-worthy, but it was her tendency to launch into insane, maniacal laughter that put the Aurors on edge.

Duck.

Without thinking, Frank dropped; the voice in his head was alarming, but not an all-together foreign sensation.
Severus' slicing curse slashed through his robes, letting the cool summer air seep through to his skin and Frank scowled. Doing his best to focus, he muttered, "cutting it a little close, aren't you Snape?"

The presence in his mind almost seemed to smirk.

I didn't hit you; did I? Besides, you're still making terrible puns; I think you'll survive.

Fighting the urge to offer a biting retort, Frank refocused on the duel happening around him. Grieves was battling with Bella and keeping his composure remarkably well, but that left Frank to deal with the remaining three Death-Eaters and he had no idea who the figure next to Snape was.

Their opponents' tactic was obvious; separate the Aurors and pick them off one at a time.

Fortunately, Bella liked to play with her victims and Frank noticed her dragging out the duel. Severus, true to form, definitely hit him and Grieves more than once, but Frank had learned long ago that Severus cast verbal spells to cause damage and non-verbals right after to curtail anything he deemed too catastrophic.

Forced to retreat after a particularly volatile blast from the unidentifiable Death-Eater, Frank stumbled over a tree root, wincing as his ankle twisted painfully. The Death-Eater raised his wand in triumph before-

A powerful curse blasted the figure into a tree.

Frank heard the sickening thunk as the man's skull cracked on impact, and Snape whirled, returning fire towards Alastor Moody.

Regaining his feet, Frank took a moment to test his ankle before glancing around. The crumpled Death-Eater lay where he'd fallen against the tree; Bella vanished with a crack, and he hadn't seen Lucius for several moments. Severus managed a stunning spell that Frank knew he'd be giving Alastor grief over in their next meeting and sprinted towards the other Death Eater, Apparating them both a moment later.

As he removed the spell from Alastor and went to check on Grieves, Frank heard a sudden shout from further into the trees. "That doesn't sound good," Moody muttered, brows drawing together in worry before he hurried after the noise.

"What could they possibly have done that we haven't seen-'' Cut off mid-sentence, Frank stared in horror.

Dangling from the tree, fluttering slightly in the breeze was a body, a long slit down the torso. An altar was built in the middle of the small clearing, surrounded by dug-out runes, the dirt composing the marks dark and glistening.

Grieves, coming up a minute behind Frank, took one look at the body and wretched, emptying his stomach at the outskirts of the clearing.

"What-" Frank had to stop to take a breath, "what were they doing?"

Moody's jaw tightened, "Aye lad, I doubt you want to know. Come," he lowered his voice, "we'll have to speak to the Headmaster. I'll make sure they get back to the department and meet you there."

Reaching for Grieves, who was now shaking and pale, Moody motioned for Frank to slip away.

***

Grimmauld was already teeming with people when he arrived, and Frank found it easy to slip in amidst the confusion.

Minerva McGonagall, hair still pulled into a long braid from sleeping, managed a tight smile in his direction and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder before hurrying off to assist a haggard looking Remus Lupin. Frank paused briefly to help his former housemate and professor drag a few more chairs into the dining room.

"Long night?" He murmured, in Lupin's direction.

The man winced, "full moon was yesterday; I'm afraid I'm not quite back to normal."

Cursing himself for forgetting once again, Frank nodded, trying to think of what to say.
He was spared the awkwardness when the door slammed open and several members of the Order drew their wands reflexively.

Shocked, Frank stared at Snape, and, more importantly, the body in their spy's arms. Blonde hair, soaked red and quickly darkening to auburn, dripped blood across the floor, as the Death-Eater's head flopped limply to the side, one hand feebly clutched across the back of his head.

For a moment, no one moved.

The Death-Eater let out a half-moan and glazed blue eyes flickered open for the barest second before rolling back into his head.
"Evan?" Snape's voice rose in alarm as the boy in his arms went limp, "Evan! No, no you can't fall asleep!" Almost dropping his companion to the floor, he knelt over the body and slapped Evan harshly across the cheek. "No, come on, you've got to wake up."

An edge of desperation to his voice, Severus' eyes flashed up. "What are you all standing around for? He's going to bleed to death in this hallway if you don't quit gawking like you've never seen a head injury before. Lupin," Remus jumped in surprise at being addressed, "get the medical kit from the bathroom and the rest of you get the hell out if you aren't going to do anything useful."

Apparently Snape's words had more clout than he thought because Remus hurried out of the hall obediently. For a moment, Severus looked surprised before quickly bending back over Evan, murmuring a spell softly under his breath.

Unable to help, Frank found himself gradually shuffled out of the hall and into the kitchen as Molly joined Snape, shortly followed by Remus.

Finally given the chance to give in to his exhaustion, Frank settled at the table resting his head on his folded arms. Just a moment of rest would do him good; just a moment....

***

The sound of running water jolted him back to awareness, and Frank sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Snape, sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows, was scrubbing the blood off his hands at the kitchen sink, the water pink as it trickled down the drain.

Without turning around, Severus muttered, "Lovely, just when I thought I was going to escape without another lecture."

Turning, the young man dried his hands on his pants before motioning toward Frank, "well then, let's have it out. You can yell; I'll stand here and ignore you, and then you can storm off feeling righteously vindicated because you told off your spy for dragging the enemy into the midst of your headquarters."

In spite of the sarcasm dripping from Snape's tone, Frank found himself on his feet and glaring.

"Snark as much as you like Snape, but you just compromised our entire operation! How do you know this wasn't some plot of theirs? It wouldn't be the first time they've suspected a spy in their ranks. You want another life on your hands?"

It was the wrong thing to say, and Frank realized it the moment the words passed his lips.

For a moment, Severus stared at him, frozen, before his jaw tightened and he straightened to his full height. He'd grown since Frank had left school and was nearly as tall as the junior Auror, and in the Death Eater robes the effect was intimidating.

"Oh yes," Snape spat, "I'm sure it was their plan to have one of your beloved compatriots split his skull in four places and leave him bleeding out on the ground just so that my decidedly compassionate nature would haul him back here to play nursemaid. Listen to me, Auror Longbottom," Severus stood two inches from Frank, his voice low, "I've done things that you can't imagine in your worst nightmares. You think that body tonight was something? You know nothing."

With a final glare, Snape turned on his heel, stalking out of the kitchen and back into the living room, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind him.

Sinking back into his chair, Frank rested his head on his hand, frustrated.

"I think the last time you looked this somber Gryffindor lost our first Quidditch match to Slytherin by one point."

In spite of himself, Frank's mouth tugged into a grin, looking up to meet his former Head of House's gaze, "I still say they cheated."

Minerva smiled slightly as she studied him over top of her spectacles. "It's unfortunate, war has no rules, much harder to referee than Quidditch." Her typical Scottish brogue was mildly chiding, "No clear roles, either."

"That's not true!" Quickly adjusting his tone to something more respectful, Frank added, "we're fighting for what's right; the Aurors, we're trying to defeat the people who want to kill most of the world just because they're not magical! How is that not right?"

Sighing, Minerva examined him, "And yet, your Aurors are licensed to use the Unforgivable Curses. Businesses refuse to hire anyone but Purebloods for fear that they'll become a target, and the Purebloods refuse to work."

Before he could argue, she added, "Did you know Regulus Black had one of the most extensive medical files in all of Hogwarts? Every year after break, Madame Pomfrey would pull him aside to check him over. The reports ended quite abruptly right after Christmas, his sixth year." Softly, she finished, "when Severus tells me he took the Dark Mark. "

Frank felt a led weight settle in his stomach with a plop.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Minerva studied her former student, "but as someone older and wiser than even you, young man, I can encourage you to look at this war like it's not black and white. Life is rarely so clearly defined." Waving her wand, she summoned a bottle of firewhiskey, "but I didn't come here to give advice; I came for a stiff drink."

At his stunned look, the Scotswoman shrugged, "I don't know why you're gaping like you've been stupefied. You students aren't the only ones who appreciate a little stress relief during exam seasons." He could've sworn she winked at him, before Minerva poured herself a shot and, leaving the bottle on the counter, retired from the kitchen.
***

“Severus my boy, I don’t know how else to say this. Mr. Rosier has committed unspeakable atrocities,” Dumbledore’s tone suggested he thought Snape was suffering a bout of temporary insanity. “He must be tried, and justice sought. I’m sure Auror Moody would agree with that assessment-”

“Auror Moody would understand that there’s more to this entire situation than you bloody well think!” Tugging a blanket up over Evan’s prone form, Severus stood with his back to the wall, tone neutral.

“As a friend, perhaps, but Severus, he was involved with the Death Eaters voluntarily.” Blue eyes glinting in the firelight, Dumbledore’s mouth tugged downwards. “Unfortunately, Azkaban is the only suitable recompense.”

Gaze narrowing slightly, Severus appeared deep in thought. Frank waited in the doorway, genuinely curious to see how this argument turned out, while Molly and Arthur Weasley hovered in the corner. Behind Frank, Remus Lupin sipped his hot chocolate innocently, though Frank knew from experience the werewolf’s exceptional hearing could pick up every word.

“What if he’s mentally incompetant?”

“Excuse me?” Apparently Dumbledore was no longer the only one questioning Snape’s sanity.

“You heard me.” Brushing his hair back out of his face, Severus shrugged, “he was launched into a tree and fractured his skull. If his mental health is at risk, Azkaban is hardly suitable.”

Dumbledore’s lips thinned. “If, by some miracle, Mr. Rosier has such extensive mental health challenges as to need long-term hospitalization and care, then I’m sure St. Mungo’s would be able to offer a suitable alternative. However,” he held up a hand, “when you examined Mr. Rosier earlier, Mr. Lupin assured me his recovery looked certain and complete.”

Snape’s mouth didn’t move, but his mental projection, ‘looks can be deceiving,’ was as snarky as ever, though from the look on Dumbledore’s face their leader was either choosing to ignore his spy’s attitude, or Snape had left him out of the loop.

Suddenly steely, their leader added, “I hope for the sake of all relevant parties nothing will happen to jeopardize Mr. Rosier’s health.”

“Of course,” Severus muttered, before pushing himself to his feet. “If that’s all, I think I’ll retire.” Collecting his wand, he headed to the doorway, pausing when Dumbledore called, “Mr. Snape.”

Annoyance oozing from every pore of his being, the Death Eater turned, “Yes?”

“I think, considering the circumstances, it would be best if you returned to your home tonight.” Dumbledore’s gaze was sharp, “I would hate for your father to worry about your whereabouts.”

With a sneer, Severus nodded his aquisance and stalked out of the room, pausing only long enough to have a hushed, but clearly furious, exchange with Remus Lupin. The werewolf’s shoulders slumped as Severus slammed out the front door.

Later that night, when Frank slipped out of his room for one final drink of water, he glimpsed a shadowy Remus Lupin pouring the contents of a vial down Evan Rosier’s throat.

***

"Still think you've Imperio'd me," Frank muttered under his breath, blowing on his fingers to try and bring some warmth back into the cold digits.

"If I was going to put the time and effort into performing a curse like that, I'd remove your capacity to annoy me with frivolous attempts at sarcastic humor." Severus' smirked was a gleam of white teeth in the dark.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious, Snape." Wrinkling his nose at his companion, Frank looked around the field. "Are you sure he's even coming?"

"Yes, now shut up, you were the one who insisted we be so bloody early anyway." Severus crossed his arms over his chest and Frank realized the Death Eater's teeth were chattering just as much as his own. At least this time Snape was wearing a knitted sweater that looked suspiciously like the one Mrs. Weasley had been working on during their last several Order meetings instead of that dreadful, ragged coat he usually had. They didn't dare chance a heating charm, trying to avoid the Auror patrol in the area.

The two stood in silence for a moment, the cold seeping deeper into their robes.

Frank was on the verge of suggesting they give up on this pointless endeavor once and for all when a soft crack signaled an inbound Apparition and seconds later a figure stumbled up against him in the dark. With a quiet oof, Remus Lupin yanked his wand from his belt.

"Severus?"

"Right here," Snape glanced over his shoulder, "we don't have a lot of time. Molly is making sure Evan is settled at St. Mungo’s, and I’m sure there will be a summons tonight to discuss the hole in our ranks.” In spite of himself, Severus flexed his fingers nervously. Frank could only imagine the fall out this was going to have.

“You’ll be alright?” Remus’ hazel eyes examined his former yearmate, the concern obvious in the face of Snape’s shaky facade.

“Obviously.” Straightening, Severus managed a half convincing sneer, “some of us are sorted into houses based on brains, not gut instincts and ill-timed adrenaline seeking.”

“I meant with the Headmaster,” Remus murmured, studying the Slytherin. Surprised, Frank glanced at the werewolf.

“He can’t prove anything,” Severus’ smirk was much more in character this time. “And even if he could, I wasn’t the one who launched Evan into a tree. No, he’ll be angry, but he’s our glorious leader,” the sarcasm in his tone was palpable, “I doubt he’ll kill me for acknowledging a very likely possibility.”

Remus looked unconvinced, but didn’t press the point further. Grateful, Frank eased back into the shadows further as a twig cracked somewhere in the nearby forest.

“As fun as this is,” Severus continued, “I came here for a reason. I’ve… Before he died,” his voice shook a bit on the last word, “Regulus was working on something for the Dark Lord. I wasn’t able to discover everything, but I found an entry in his personal journal discussing horcruxes.”

When Remus swallowed hard, Frank gathered he was definitely missing a few important notes, “What’s a horcrux?”

Both his companions turned to stare at him. “A piece of someone’s soul,” Remus whispered, face white under the pale half-moon.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Frank shrugged, “I mean, it’s not good but-”

“What this idiotic Gryffindor didn’t think to mention,” Severus hissed, “is that a horcrux allows a portion of a soul to live on forever. If Voldemort were to create one…” He trailed off.

“He would be immortal,” Frank found himself unable to swallow. “I- how do you….”

“I don’t know and I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to find out. The rituals he has us working on…” Severus shook his head, “I just don’t have time. It’s not something I’m ready to discuss with the Order just yet, but since you have access to Auror files at the Ministry and you’re… not as stupid as you pretend,” Lupin smiled, “I thought I’d give you something to do.”

“Because we don’t have enough already,” Frank muttered, but he felt his thoughts swirl. Immortality? And just when he’d thought this conflict couldn’t get worse.

Snape opened his mouth, another remark on the tip of his tongue, before hissing in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. As Remus took a step toward him, the dark-haired man spun in place and vanished.

***

"Thank you, Molly; who knew for such a tiny thing he'd have such a set of lungs?" Frank found himself attempting a smile, but it came out as more of an exhausted grimace.

"Takes after his mother," Molly laughed at the look on his face before pressing the salve into his hand. "Secret family recipe, but it definitely helped my boys through more than their fair share of scrapes as babes. Just a little on the tummy every night and hopefully it'll help."

Nodding, Frank quickly transcribed her directions onto a spare bit of parchment. Neville had been sick for the past several days and between his long shifts and Alice's grueling hours at the Ministry they were at their wits' end.

“Here,” Molly pressed a small parcel into his hand, “it’s the first batch to get you started. You both need your rest, and from the looks of it, neither of you have been getting any. Now,” she smiled, “go home to your wife. Let Alice know if she ever needs a listening ear, my door is always open for a cup of tea.”

Grateful, Frank nodded, “I will. Thank you Molly.” Tucking the last of the parcels away, he collected his robe and walked out into the yard.

***

“Alice? I’m home; you were right Molly had a recipe for something that she thinks will help Nev-” Cutting himself off, Frank froze as his wife stumbled into the room, arms bound tightly behind her back, lips moving as she tried to scream a warning.

“Aw, isn’t that sweet! Is bitty baby Longbottom sick?” Bellatrix’s high pitched voice preceded her entrance. Rabastan LeStrange, wand pressed to his wife’s temple, smiled grimly. “Drop your wand, Auror, or she dies.”

Frantic, Alice shook her head, and Frank didn’t need his wife to speak to know what she would say.

“Too late.” As he raised his hand, the wand was torn from his fingers.

Whirling, Frank found himself staring into the dead eyes of Rudolphus LeStrange, wand held securely in the Death Eater’s hand.

“Don’t wake the baby,” the man snarled, lips twisting in a sadistic grin. “At least, not before the fun starts.”
Grabbing Frank, the Death Eaters vanished with a sharp crack.

Upstairs, a baby began to wail.

***

Happily he stared up at the ceiling. The colorful… shapes, the correct word to describe them escaped him, but he couldn’t be bothered to try and chase it, were enough to keep him entertained for hours. Much better than the chaos of his own mind.

Thinking hurt, and thinking made them hurt. The men and women with cheerful voices who asked him questions he didn’t understand and couldn’t answer, and responded with upbeat smiles that did nothing to counteract the disappointment he felt seeping from them every time he failed.

Instead, he spent his days walking in the hallways until one of the kind faced people led him back to his room, or staring at the shapes around the room.

Sometimes, one of the people would read to him, and though he couldn’t understand the story or remember what had happened, the voices were pleasant. So much better than the screams he heard echoing through his ears.

They told him the screams weren’t real; a leftover memory from…whatever had made him this way. When he’d try to ask them why he heard them, his words ended up jumbled and confused, and he gave up in frustration.

“Mr. Longbottom?”

He looked up, following the voice more than the words themselves.

“You have a visitor.”

He sat up, with difficulty, and eyed the strange man next to him warily. Tall and skinny, with long black hair covering most of his face. He also didn’t smile, and Frank shifted away, unsure.

“He is more in tune with emotions,” one of the kind faces murmured. “If he grows too agitated, fetch one of us and we’ll take a little break.” Then she slipped away, leaving them alone.

For a long moment, the silence was stifling, before the man reached into the folds of his coat. “I- they told me you like books? I don’t know if you’ll like this one but… it was on your shelf so I brought it.”

Perching awkwardly on a chair next to the bedside, the man cleared his throat and opened the book, soft, velvet voice washing over him until Frank drifted off to sleep.