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Fidelus	By : Titania Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1122 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, Rain Coast books, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers and many others. I am not making money from this work. JKR is a Goddess!

I am a poor, frustrated artist, and therefore have nothing of value to any one, so don�t waste your time suing me��the only character belonging to me is Hero Charen, so leave her alone or I will hex you into a speck of dust.
Description: Hero Benedick, orphan, Auror, godchild of Albus. Gives as good as she gets. Severus Snape, Death Eater turned spy, brooding Potions Master. Gets as good as he gives. He would do anything for the war effort, but there was no way in hell he was going to learn Karate, not even if it was part of her plan to defeat Voldimort. He had his reputation to uphold after all. (Appearance by Lestat and other charming bloodsuckers in later chapters) First Fic, please review.

Chapter One

Laissez Bon Bon Tons Roulez

The stale, rancid air was throbbing with the beat of drums, punctuated by rhythmic chants and shouts, matching the pounding in her head and the ache in her shoulders. The air was tinged with the smells of sweat, burning wood and the stale odor of death. In the back of her mind, she realized that she was in a mausoleum. Her eyes snapped open. Wincing at the brightness of the fires burning around her, she realized that her hands were bound to marble pillars.

�Fuckola� she thought, and tried to remember what her last actions had been. The Mardi Gras..a bar..a handsome young Creole�a Cuba Libre..his laughter and blackness. �Hold on! A Cuba Libre? Just one? Not nearly close to the amount necessary to cause her to passout�.That damn Creole boy! Drugged, like a stupid foolish muggle. Fuck-o-la.�

Her eyes focused on the fires and the dancers before her, their bodies gyrating to the throbbing beat of the drum. They leapt and jumped, whooped and hollered some dancing with snakes. �Ah. A voodoo ceremony.� Well of all the ways to go. She had always thought that she would meet her end by a Death Eater, not something as primitive as this type of magic.
A tall black man, body glistening with sweat, leapt in front of her; a great snake wrapped around his arm, the knife in his hand reflected the firelight. The drums had stopped; the dancers were kneeling before them, the silence broken only by their panting. On any other occasion, she would have watched this with some degree of fascination and curiosity, but as it was he had grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head back. She didn�t wince, but eyed him defiantly. The shinny knife was swiftly approaching her throat. She let out a cry as she swiftly snapped her leg out in front of her and kicked him square in the center of his chest
"Petrificus Totallis!" a voice shouted from the darkness as her foot made loud contact with her target. The spell and her foot making contact at the same time, the High Priest fell backward in the full body bind, and a dark figure swooped into the mausoleum, scattering the worshipers, who ran screaming in terror into the darkness. She could hear the sound of his approach across the leaf-covered floor of the crypt.
"Well Miss Charen, what would the Ministry say if they saw you now?"
There was only one man with voice like velvet covered steel. �Fuckola.� she thought again as he came into view. He was just as she remembered him from school. Tall, thin, dressed in black. Same cruel glint in his eyes, lip curled in what was for him a smile, but was to every one else, derisive. �Professor Severus Snape. Lucky me.�

"What, no quick come back from Hero?" he asked as he reached up and untied one of her hands, his eyebrow cocked in derision. He let it drop to her side, his mouth quirking at the sight of her spell bound body lolling toward the other marble pillar. "No ripping repartee this evening? Cat got your tongue? Or did they take it along with your wand? " He pointed his wand at her. "Finite Incartartum."
"No, that would have been you, Snape!" she snapped as he reached over her and freed her other hand from the restraint. She looked sideways at him, as she massaged her wrists, biting her tongue against the pain and the temptation to spit at him. He merely stood there, staring at her, eyebrow cocked and smirking. Memories of the potions classroom, flashed through her head. The fear, the loathing, she had tried to make herself invisible, hoping that he would leave her alone. That was then, this was now. She wasn�t a cowed student anymore. She turned and faced him full on, returning his stare with her own, her mind spinning with questions. �What was he doing here? Of all of the wizards in the entire world, he had to turn up here, in New Orleans!�

"And nearly meeting your end in a primitive magic ceremony as well. What would the Ministry think of this?" he continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "�Especially after the careless way you allowed yourself to be taken. You cannot even use the excuse of a more powerful wizard overcoming your�defenses? With a derisive snort, he turned on his heel and strode from the mausoleum, his black cloak billowing behind him.

"Sod off Snape!" she shot at him as she caught up with his strides her breath vaporizing in the cold air. "He knew the pass words! I was supposed to be meeting a contact there! Damn, where is my wand?" She pulled her hands from her pockets. "I must have�"
"Dropped it?" he finished stopping suddenly. "Is this yours?"
"Yes, thank you!" she fired back, snatching the wand from his hand. She strode ahead of him, her black leather boots gleaming in the streetlights, her pace fast, not caring if Snape kept up or not.

�Impudent girl.� he thought catching up with her.

�Still the bat I see.� she thought. Still as arrogant as she remembered him to be as well. As if she could ever forget the arrogance, which seemed to emanate from his pores.
The thick, drunken crowd seemed to part before them as they strode forward. Costumed men and women danced and swirled around them. Some lurching drunkenly, some attempting to grab at them. Snape swatted a hand from his ass and whirled around, wand drawn, prepared to hex the woman, no; the man dressed as a woman.

�What the..� he thought as Hero grabbed his wand and pointed it to the ground.
"Put that away!" she hissed. Leaning closer to him she said "It�s Mardi Gras, Snape. She/he is drunk and every one plays a little grab ass in this crowd! Ye Gods!" She turned and started striding away again.
"Where are we going Charen?" he growled as he caught up to her once more. Since when had she developed that stride, and when did she adopt black as her color, when he distinctly remembered her penchant for that annoying Griffindor Red. "Is this your costume?" he asked of the black leather pants and jacket she wore as they turned a corner onto a quieter street.
"We are going to my apartment, and no, this" she indicated her clothing "is what I normally wear. Although, you fit right in with the crowd tonight." She had stopped in front of an old looking building made of brick. Ignoring �The Eyebrow�, as she had dubbed it long ago at school, she withdrew her wand from her sleeve, turned to the door and uttered an incantation. "Come in."
He followed her into her apartment as the lights clicked on.

"Make yourself at home. I will only be a moment," she said over her shoulder as she walked through a door at the end of the room.
The walls were plaster, and painted �Red, of course�, void of art, but punctuated by a set of tall French doors that reached the ceiling. Her furniture was cotabltable looking, well-worn leather. Especially the sofa, upon which rested a mink afghan and some books. Muggle magazines and more books were stacked on the wood floor in front of the sofa. A bottle of rum and a six-pack of some muggle beverage sat on the coffee table along side an ice bucket and a crystal glass. Behind a partition he found bookshelves that were groaning under the weight of the books upon them and an over large chair and ottoman. On the table next to the chair sat a glass half full of a dark liquid and some candles. Potions kit rested on the floor under the table, Moste Potiente Potions lay open atop the kit. He stepped over to the bookshelves and skimmed the titles with his fingers. She had a variety of subjects, Hemmingway, Christie, Shakespeare, other Wizard and Muggle literature, mythology, old school texts and the like.
"See anything you like, Sev? " she said from behind him. Startled, he turned and looked at her in the full light of the room. She was leaning against the wall of the alcove, a slight frown marring her face, her blue eyes questioning his presence here.
At twenty-six years of age, Miss Hero Charen no longer resembled the girl he had once taught. The girl who did not shrink in her chair, like everyone else, everytime he approached her table. He could remember the fear glittering in her eyes, the only sign that she felt fear, for she kept her face expressionless. She had done well in his class, well enough to make his advanced classes. She would have been nothing more than one face out of many, only the fact that she was Albus� godchild had, for him, set her apart from the rest. This distinction had, also, set her apart from her schoolmates. He couldn�t remember her as having any particular group of friends at school. Some enemy�s yes, but no particular friends. He made it a point to keep an eye out for her, albeit subtly. After graduation, he forgot about her, except for those rare occasions that Albus made mention of her or shared a letter with the rest of the staff, for Albus was very proud of his god-child and proud of how well she had turned out. She had indeed changed from that quiet, unobtrusive creature��Gods, why me?� he thought as he took in the sight of her.
She had shed her leather jacket and was clad in a pair of rather tight leather pants that accentuated the length and shapeliness of her legs and a black T-shirt that left very little to the imagination by the way it clung to her. Her once long red hair was now cropped in a short cut, that was not unflattering, but rather drew attention to her wide, blue eyes and creamy white neck. She had gotten taller, being about five foot six now. Her arms were long and sinewy with muscle; her hands graceful and long fingered. Her face wasn�t extraordinarily beautiful, her lips were a bit to full, her nose a tad too narrow for that, but she was interesting to look at.
"Want a drink? she finally asked, and turned and walked to the coffee table. She flipped two glasses over and poured some rum, soda and limejuice. She waved her wand over the glasses and ice appeared in them. "Here" she said handing him a glass. He accepted it, and they stood there for a moment, each eyeing the other up as they sipped their drinks, neither being willing to be the first to speak.
"Why are you here? Aren�t you supposed to be terrorizing students or something?" she finally said, then a thought skittered through her mind " Is there something wrong with Uncle Albus?"
"No." he answered, slightly amused by the expressions that had run across her normally poker straight face as they had watched each other. Her British tinged American accent was charming to his ears. "Albus is as much the same as he ever was, perhaps a trifle more tired than usual though."
"Ah, well the war and all, or I should say the lack of war. I don�t like how quiet it has been since the New Year" she said quietly, relief sweeping through her. Albus Dumbledore was the last of her loved ones left alive.
"I am sorry about your mother." Severus said quietly as if sensing her thoughts. Her mother, Olivia, had died in the terror attack that had taken place recently in America. She had been a muggle, Hero�s father, the great Octavius Charen, had been murdered in the first war against Voldemort. He had died bravely fighting three Death Eaters. He noted the large ring that graced her hand, the Charen Family ring.
"Thank you." she said quietly. "This was about all of her that was found." she finished, indicating the ring when she noticed his gaze upon it. She swallowed hard, as the still fresh pain rushed through her. Trust him to bring up the subject. "Well, why are you here, Sev?" she snapped.
"I�ve been sent to bring you back to Headquarters. Albus requested that I escort you."
�Gee thanks, Uncle.� She thought, but asked aloud "How did you know where to find me, back there I mean?"
"I saw you in that bar and by the time I entered you had disappeared. I interrogated the boy you were with when I saw you last. He was quite helpful."
" I�m sure." She sipped her drink. "When are we expected back?"
"Albus wants you back as soon as possible, preferably tonight, or today rather."
" Well then, let me pack a few things. I won�t be long."
Severus sat down on the sofa as she turned lef left the room. He closed his eyes for a moment and sipped his drink again. He was not pleased about being here, and had argued with Dumbledore about having to fetch this young upstart, well had argued as best as he could with him anyway. He was exhausted enough as it was what with his having to teach and his work for the order. Dunbledore had said that it would be easy to find her and bring her back. Nothing involving Dumbledore was ever easy, and this mission had proved to be no exception. It had taken him two hours to find Hero after he had interrogated her whereabouts out of that young boy. The she�d had the nerve to be ungrateful for his timely rescue. Insolent girl.

"Here, shrink these for me and put them in this bag please Sev." her words interrupting his thoughts. His eyes snapped open as she dropped the bag onto his lap and placed a stack of books on the cushion next to him.
"If you would refrain from ordering me around and from referring to me as Sev, Miss Charen?" he growled waving his wand over the stack.
"I said please, Sev-er-us. What are you going to do, take points away?" Turning, she walked into the alcove and retrieved her potions kit and book from their place underneath the table. She shrunk them and placed them into the bag that she held, then turned to the bookshelves and repeated the spell on the ones she had selected. With a sigh, she zipped the bag closed and walked over to the sofa. " I�m ready. Let�s go. Oh wait! Is there any rum at H.Q.? "
"No."
"Well, that won�t do. No Coke or lime juice either, I imagine." She walked past him, and grabbed the bottle and the six-pack from the table and gave them to Snape "In the bag, please" as she turned and strode into the kitchen. ""These too!" she called, tossing him a plastic bag filled with limes.
"Miss Charen, are you quite sure you have everything you require?"
"I think so." she answered walking over to him "Where is the Portkey?"
With a sigh, he held out a money clip full of money.
"Sev, do lower that eyebrow, or is it stuck that way" she asked, laughing and reached for the Portkey.
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Fidelus