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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 49
- 50
- 51
"Ginny? Ginny! Come downstairs, I need you to help me with something."
"Oh, bloody hell." Ginny literally jumped awake and groaned into her pillow when she heard her mum's piercing voice infiltrating the bedroom. "There she goes. I swear, I can't wait till this ruddy thing is over with."
Hermione was also startled out of her sleep by Mrs. Weasley's screaming. She sighed after falling back onto her pillow, knowing that soon she would most likely also be summoned. Even if she wasn't, she would feel guilty for trying to sleep longer while Ginny was being ordered about.
The redhead continued muttering angrily to herself as she hastily kicked the quilt down to the foot of her bed. It took her a few minutes to dress and she stomped out of room to go find her mother.
Even as Hermione threw the quilt back over her head, she told herself that going back to sleep was pointless, even though she was desperate for the extra rest. After a long night of making love with Severus, then returning to the Burrow, only to sit on the crooked staircase and cry for twenty minutes which had felt like an eternity, she felt utterly sapped of all energy. Once she was all cried out, a quick visit to the loo before turning in for the night led her to find that between her legs felt tender and a bit achy. A glance in the mirror showed purplish love bites on her neck and chest; had she been able to see the reflection of her torso and thighs in the mirror, Hermione was sure that more remnants of their evening would have been found.
Sneaking back upstairs and into the bedroom had been easy. The Burrow was always alive with banging and clacking, mostly due to the old, uneven wooden infrastructure as well as the Weasleys' ghoul. Remembering what Severus told her about treading lightly, Hermione took extra care with padding up the steps. Ginny never stirred as the bedroom door was gently pushed open, or when Hermione made her way across the room, hurriedly undressing before slipping into the narrow bed.
She lie awake for a long time, staring up at the misshapen shadows stretched across the ceiling. After experiencing a series of highs and lows, all within the span of a few hours, Hermione found it difficult to sleep. Within the past few months she nearly turned into an insomniac and the first decent rest she had in a long time had been found within Severus' arms. At some point he had murmured some sort of apology for her having to share a bed with a murderer. Hermione silenced the professor’s words with a kiss, and for the first time, got away with telling him to shut up. Severus responded with a short laugh, but he did shut up, tightening his hold on Hermione and pressing his thin cheek into the top of her head.
It felt as if ages had passed before she finally fell asleep. Pretending that she was still lying in Severus' arms was the only thing that allowed her to relax, although the reality of her cold, empty bed made for a restless night.
Pounding footsteps that seemed to contain a wealth of frustration sounded along the hallway and brought her back to the present. Hermione was pretty sure she could hazard a guess at who they belonged to, and she tossed the quilt away from her head.
"Hermione? Mum wants me to tell you that breakfast is ready," Ginny said after opening the door to the bedroom. "She needs our help again, what's new. But right now she needs me to help keep Phlegm out of her hair. I don't know why she just won't tell her to piss off and out of her kitchen."
"Alright. I'm coming."
Thus signalled the beginning of another day where Hermione had to put on a mask and pretend that everything was fine.
**
The morning of the wedding proved to be no different than the previous busy days of the week. Mrs. Weasley was in rare form, most likely due to a long list of things that had to be handled before guests arrived. Also there was the issue of Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, unexpectedly turning up at The Burrow the night before, and that left everyone on edge. By the following day Mrs. Weasley was snappish and in no mood to deal with anyone trying to shirk their assigned chores. Once was enough for Fred and George to feel their mother's wrath, and they were grateful to be helping their father out in the garden. Ron happily volunteered his services, dragging Harry along outside with him, which left Hermione in the house. That was fine with her. Mrs. Weasley left her with a box of lavender linen napkins while asking in the same breath if she could 'do something' with them before bustling off to handle some other task.
Once the napkins were neatly folded and carried out to the marquee where the wedding was being held, Hermione decided to get a head start on everyone before all the bathrooms were occupied. The charms used to conceal the love bites Severus left behind had to be recast, lest someone know what she had been up to. After a quick shower, an entire bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and a dab of expensive perfume that was a gift from her mother, Hermione slipped into her floaty lilac dress, another gift which had been purchased the same time as the perfume. Both items, as well as a pair of matching shoes, were the result of a 'ladies only' shopping trip that occurred shortly after Hermione returned home from school.
The sweet, flowery smell of the perfume and the sight of the dainty dress instantly brought back memories of her and her mum's outing, and Hermione had to fight back the pang of sorrow that began burning a hole into the centre of her chest. Thankfully, on her way out of Ginny's room and past another bedroom, a run-in with an unpleasant family member on the Weasleys' side was enough to distract Hermione from her sadness.

A few hours later the wizarding ceremony was over and Bill and Fleur were now husband and wife. Hermione couldn’t help but to feel slightly envious of the happy, newly-wedded couple. Somehow in the midst of everything that was happening, they managed to find a bit of happiness. Previously, she secretly agreed with Harry when he said that it seemed ridiculous to worry about a holding a wedding when they all risked being attacked at any moment. Yet her inner romantic thought the entire affair was sweet. Fleur was all smiles whenever she looked at Bill, and it was clear that he was in love with her. With a pang of longing, Hermione wondered what it would be like to be in the company of others and have Severus looking at her with that same expression.
Currently, she and Ginny were sat together at a table closer to the back of the tent. Charlie had snuck them both glasses of champagne, with directions to not let his mum see. It didn't matter that Hermione was already of age and her friends just shy of legal adulthood; Mrs. Weasley still saw fit to gawk in their direction if they came within the vicinity of the trays holding champagne and Firewhisky.
Mrs. Weasley didn't have to worry about her daughter; Ginny took one sip of her champagne and grimaced, announcing that she didn’t care for its taste and that she was going to find something else. Hermione ended up with Ginny’s glass, and made sure to keep it hidden whenever she brought it to her lips. After some time the subterfuge wasn’t necessary; most of the guests were too busy with watching Bill and Fleur taking centre of the dancefloor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also dancing with one another, and the flush in Molly’s face gave away the fact that she also had been indulging in the automatically refilling champagne glasses.
The biggest surprise of that evening was Viktor Krum. Hermione didn't think she would see him, and was a bit taken aback when he said that Fleur had invited him. The moment they hugged, Hermione became slightly nostalgic, remembering how she used to feel uncharacteristically giddy around him. Viktor also seemed pleased to see her... for all of five minutes. Swiftly it became apparent that he had eyes not only for her, but for every other ‘good-looking’ witch within close proximity. The ‘good-looking’ comment was made when she had bent down to retrieve a pair of spectacles that an elderly wizard dropped. Most likely Viktor assumed that Hermione had moved out of earshot, which she hadn’t. Immediately her teeth were set on edge and she hadn’t been sorry when he gave some feeble excuse before slouching away.
Nursing her glass of champagne, Hermione wondered when Viktor became shallow. Or perhaps he had always been shallow and she was too smitten to notice. But hadn't Severus mentioned something of the like about Viktor? Yes, he did, she just couldn't remember what.
Stop, Hermione. Stop thinking about him before you start crying like a ninny.
“See your old pumpkinhead boyfriend?” asked Ron, who had just slid into the seat next to Hermione and interrupted her thoughts. “Did he come to celebrate my brother getting married, or mainly to find someone to shag?” Ron was staring across the tent and at Viktor, who had found his way to some cousins of Fleur's who were also Veelas. They were all batting their eyelashes at him and making stupid faces that Hermione supposed were meant to look coquettish, when instead they looked silly. Viktor did not appear to have a problem with the attention; in fact it looked as if he had pushed his chest out slightly while pretending to act nonchalant.
“He's not my boyfriend," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "And I don't know what you mean."
“Sure you don't. It's not as if I’m lying; look at him. First he’s moaning about all of the girls here being taken. Now he's worse than a rooster in a hen house.”
Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, which made Ron frown at her.
“You don’t still fancy him, do you?”
“What? No!”
“....You sure about that?”
“Yes, Ronald,” Hermione answered crisply. “Maybe it you that's so bothered. What's wrong, still jealous of Viktor?"
"That's ridiculous!"
"Is it really? But let me tell you this, if you keep bothering me, I’m going to find your favourite aunt and tell her that you want to hear stories about you growing up.”
“Alright!” Ron yelled pleadingly, jumping up from the table. “I'll leave you be. I forget how evil you can get."
Hermione smirked as she watched Ron scamper off. Her threat about finding Great-Aunt Muriel was empty; she didn't care at all for the older woman and was making every effort to avoid her. Hermione's dislike had only intensified after she heard her new nickname: 'the Muggle-born with skinny ankles and bad posture'. Yes, her posture might not have been ramrod straight. After carrying a load of books for months on end during the school year, not to mention the heavy beaded bag she was now toting around, it was hard to stand up properly. But she didn't think anything was wrong with her ankles. Besides, Great-Aunt Muriel had cankles that were nearly the size of tree trunks, and she had stuffed her feet into a pair of beaded shoes that looked expensive but ugly. Therefore, Hermione felt that the older woman was the last person who should be passing judgement.
As the celebration drew further in, Hermione decided to fully join the festivities. She tried to get Harry to dance with her, but he was in one of his pensive moods and claimed that he didn't feel like dancing. It still didn't stop him from peeking over at Ginny, who was in the middle of the crowded dance floor with Luna and some other unfamiliar wizard.
If Harry wanted to sit and sulk, that was fine by her; Hermione left him alone at the table and went to catch up with her friends. Upon making her way to Luna and Ginny, Ron appeared out of nowhere. It took a fair bit of yelling for her to be heard, but Hermione told Ron that he could stay only if he behaved.
Ron was indeed on his best behaviour, perhaps because he was still trying to hide from his Great-Aunt. He grabbed Luna by the hand and twirled her around, making her give a loud laugh that sounded odd but genuine. When he tried to spin Hermione, she grinned while shrieking that he had better catch her if she were to fall.
It was times like this when Hermione was grateful for Ron's friendship. Her biggest bone of contention was him not taking things seriously when he ought to. Right now was a time for merriment, and his enthusiastic attitude was infectious. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had laughed and smiled so much. It was hard to forget about everything else looming over them; not thinking about Severus even took severe effort. But for now she literally could not stop grinning, to the point that her cheeks were beginning to ache. Luna was also positively brimming over, and one would have thought that perhaps she had been slipped a bit drink, but the only thing she paused to sip in between dancing was pumpkin juice.
"D'you want to take a break?" Ron shouted over the music, only Hermione couldn't hear him.
"What?!"
"I SAID, D'YOU WANT TO TAKE A BREAK! I'M GETTING HUNGRY!"
"OH, YOU'RE ALWAYS HUNGRY, RONALD!"
Ron turned to Luna, still dancing in place. "OI, LUNA! D'YOU WANT TO COME WITH?"
"WHAT?!"
"OH...NEVER MIND! C'MON!"
Taking Luna by the arm, Ron began leading her out of the marquee. Hermione's feet were throbbing and felt as if they had doubled in size, and she took tiny steps behind them. Just as they were halfway out the marquee, Ron coaxed one of the waiters to hand over an entire tray of sandwiches. Luna thought that was hysterical for some reason and laughed raucously while eyeing the large silver platter. She ducked back for a second and after re-emerging with an armful of butterbeers, followed the other two out into the cool night air.
"Oooh it's so wonderful out here!" Luna trilled, spinning broadly and causing her bright yellow robes to flare out. The sunflower in her hair looked as if it was going to come flying loose at any moment, along with the butterbeers that were still in her clutches.
"Hey, Luna!" Ron cried. "What say you put those down before they fall?"
Luna paused mid-turn and looked at him with widened silvery grey eyes. "Haha! Oh, I guess you're right," she replied, looking down in surprise as if she had forgotten about holding an armful of brown glass bottles.
Smiling while shaking his head, Ron unloaded some of the bottles from her grasp.
"Where did this come from?" Hermione asked, looking at a massive wooden garden swing that had been erected across from the tent. It was covered in white flowers and tiny golden lights, and the seat looked large enough to fit five or six people.
"One of Dad's cousins, I think. His wife made him bring it and it was in his pocket and George and me charmed it until it was big enough. Although I think we may have gone a bit overboard..."
Hermione looked at the seated portion, which was expansive on its own. Charmed even larger, chances were it could easily accommodate Hagrid.
"Perhaps just a bit."
"Where are Harry and Ginny?" Luna asked, slipping onto the swing next to Hermione. Ron had grabbed two sandwiches for himself, balancing one atop his thigh before passing the tray over. "They're missing all the fun!"
"You call hiding from my aunt and stuffing our gobs fun?" Ron asked through a large bite of his sandwich, while handing Luna and Hermione a butterbeer.
"Yes. This is quite nice. I'm not sure that I prefer it to hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but it's all right just the same."
Hermione was in too much of a good mood to give second thought to Luna's mention of her pretend creatures. Ron, on the other hand, seemed chuffed by the mention of the elusive Snorkacks. Or maybe it was just Luna herself that amused him.
"You know what, Luna? I think you're right," Ron admitted, swallowing the last bite of his first sandwich and picking up the next. "This is sort of fun; more fun than having my face pinched by older relatives that I barely remember."
"You know you love the attention, Ronniekins," Hermione teased. She had been present to witness an elderly grey-haired woman with thick bifocals using both hands to literally squeeze Ron's cheeks until they turned bright red. Of course, she had also referred to him as 'that naughty boy, Davie', fondly reminiscing about Davie taking off his pants and streaking bare-arsed throughout her house whenever he came to visit. Ron looked horrified at the idea of him taking off his pants and running naked through the woman's house, especially since the look on his face clearly said 'Who the hell are you?'
Just as Hermione began to laugh, Harry and Ginny came walking in their direction. Ginny looked calm but Harry appeared as if something had upset him.
"You're upset, Harry," Luna stated conversationally as if he was unaware of his own attitude.
"Yeah, a bit," he replied with forced politeness. "Thanks for letting me know."
Luna acted as if she didn't hear the last sentence, although there was a possibility that her thoughts had already turned elsewhere and she was merely tuning everything out.
"I've just had a nice little chat with your old boyfriend," Harry told Hermione. "Can't imagine how I managed to forget about his charm."
Clearly their conversation was the source of his anger, and Hermione frowned.
"Not you too. Anyway, what happened?"
Harry's eyes flickered towards Luna's direction, and he hesitated.
"Forget about it. Anyway what are you three doing over here? Hiding out?"
"You'd be hiding too if you met some of our other family," Ginny told him. "But seeing as they think you're one of us, you already know."
"I hope no one puts two and two together and figures out who you really are beneath that Polyjuice," Hermione said worriedly.
"Everyone's so drunk, they probably can't remember their own names," Ginny told her. "Anyway, the wedding's nearly over. Bill and phlegm, I mean, Fleur, can go on their honeymoon and maybe Mum'll stop behaving as if there's a full moon.
"Not bloody likely," said Ron. "Until You-Know-Who doesn't exist, she's likely to stay mental, which is why I'm going to enjoy myself tonight as much as I can. So—" he paused to pick up another sandwich from the now half-empty tray and turned to Luna, "wanna dance once I'm done?"
Luna had been silently watching the exchange between the four, and her face brightened when Ron focused on her. "Sure," she answered, reaching up to pat the sunflower in her hair back into place, which had been dangling and about to fall.
Once Ron and Luna went back to the marquee, Hermione lingered on the swing with Harry and Ginny. Knowing how rare their alone time was and not wanting to be the third wheel, she discreetly excused herself and went to find the other two. Her feet still hurt, yet when Luna caught sight of her beneath the marquee, she beckoned her over to their corner. It was easy to keep up with Luna's offbeat swaying; whatever it took to not have to move her feet, Hermione was alright with. She would have taken off her shoes, but between the drunken guests, spilled drinks, and the possibility of broken glass, she decided not to chance it.
Everyone seemed to forget that the marquee was surrounded by Aurors; the celebration was still in full swing, and everything seemed to be going perfectly. For a brief second, Hermione sighed, relieved that everything was going well. However, her relief was short-lived with a Patronus—a lynx— dashed through the canopy over the dance floor, coming to a stop. Kingsley's slow, deep voice came forth from the lynx:
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
The guests didn't wait for Kingsley's Patronus to finish speaking. Immediately everyone flew into high panic. People screamed for one another, while some merely Apparated away. Kingsley hadn't indicated who 'they' was in his terse message, but everyone know 'they' could only mean one group: Death Eaters.
Luna's father had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his daughter's hand, Apparating them to safety. Ron's hand had found its way into Hermione's, and the two clung to one another for dear life. Screaming her throat raw while trying to find Harry, Hermione had no idea that she was practically dragging Ron along with her. The combination of her heavy beaded handbag, aching feet, and trailing wizard did little to impede her progress. Then, somewhere amid the melee, a shrill voice rang out.
"DEATH EATERS!"
"Harry! Harry, where are you?!" Hermione shouted, wand out in front of her as she frantically looked around. It didn't take long for her to see where the Death Eaters were; a small knot of black-robed and hooded figures were fast approaching the once flower-strewn path to the entrance of the marquee. Just as she was about to scream for Harry again, he darted into view and grabbed hold of her hand. Less than a second later, the Burrow, the marquee, and the Death Eaters were no longer in their line of sight as Hermione Apparated the three away.

There was no way that anyone would have known the identity of person hiding beneath the silver mask and foreboding hooded robes. Then again, one Death Eater looked like another, and upon seeing any one of them, a person with half a brain was never keen enough to stick around to try and sort each person out.
Fucking idiots, the lot of them. Why not just paint a large red X on your heads to announce your whereabouts?
Prior to that day, Snape had no idea about the Dark Lord's plan on making the Death Eaters storm The Burrow. Usually Voldemort did not make it his business to keep abreast of the plans of others who he considered to be beneath him. Yet after a visit to the headquarters for the Ministry of Magic, it was Voldemort himself who killed Rufus Scrimgeour when the Minister refused to give the location of Harry Potter. Some random Ministry worker in Scrimgeour’s office,who Snape presumed to be friendly with Arthur Weasley, ended up telling about the wedding. Most likely it had been an attempt to have his life spared, but Voldemort ordered one of the Death Eaters to kill the man.
A pile of dead bodies had been left in a heap in that office. Voldemort, as well as many others, merely walked on the deceased as if they were nothing more than floor tiles. Snape discreetly walked around them, wanting nothing more than the gory blood-filled night to come to an end.
Upon approaching the screaming group of witches and wizards, many of whom were still Apparating out of place, Snape's shrewd black eyes immediately fell upon the person that they had been sent to capture. Even under the guise of Polyjuice, he knew that he was looking directly at Harry Potter. Only those who were truly skilled in the art of camouflage gave thought to changing their mannerisms after consuming Polyjuice Potion. However, if it came to someone Snape was personally acquainted with, he knew and committed to memory their mannerisms.
Only one had managed to almost completely elude him, and that was Barty Crouch Jr. The act he put on as Alastor Moody had been very convincing, save for a few slip ups that went unnoticed by all but Severus. Beyond that, Snape knew better. He knew when he was looking at a Polyjuiced Hermione that day in Flourish and Blotts, despite her temporarily altered appearance. Besides himself, Snape didn't know any other person who became so engrossed in a book that they managed to tune out their surroundings. And while Hermione had taken the form of a plain-looking witch in frumpy robes, it was the way she primly sat, curled in her chair in one corner of the story, devouring each page of her book, that let him know it was her.
He wished that Hermione had the sense to follow Potter's lead and also take Polyjuice; perhaps it would have made for a more difficult time in the other Death Eater's being able to easily pick her out from the hordes of witches and wizards who were in high panic and fleeing from the marquee. Snape stood less than ten feet away from Hermione; her hair was sleek and hanging in a silken curtain down her back, and she wore some sort of gauzy light purple dress that made her appear almost ethereal. Yet the dichotomy between her beautiful appearance and the look of abject terror on her face made his blood run cold. Hermione was gripping onto Ronald Weasley's hand, while screaming hysterically for the third member of their trio.
The ginger-haired Polyjuiced form of Harry Potter, who looked as if he could be another Weasley, streaked across the marquee, rushing towards his friends. Within the next second, the three turned and Disapparated out of place, leaving the chaos behind.
It was relief to know that the three were gone; however, Snape had to carry on the pretence of his search. Using his wand, he magically dismantled tables beneath the marquee, sending bits of things flying about; purple and white flowers, champagne and wine glasses, and unturned plates of food became crushed beneath his feet as he advanced further into the space.
"They aren't here," Draco mumbled. He was also wearing full Death Eater's garb and stood by Snape's elbow. His father was on Snape's other side and he hissed at his son upon hearing his voice.
"Be quiet, Draco!" Lucius snapped. He had his wife's wand and was using it to blast things out of his way. "Just keep your mouth shut and do as you were told."
Snape knew that both Malfoys lived in fear of the Dark Lord, Lucius more so. The last thing he wanted to happen was another Death Eater overhearing something that so much as resembled a complaint from the younger Malfoy. Purely to align himself more favourably with the Dark Lord, they would happily reported that father and son had trouble with carrying out their duties. Chances were Lucius already knew that Granger, Potter, and Weasley were long gone, but there was no way he would admit it, as it meant admitting that the trio had gotten away. Lucius could not afford any more mistakes; he had told Snape as much. He also confided that he did not want his son to inadvertently cross the Dark Lord again.
"They aren't here," said Nott, his voice distorted. "They aren't here. But they had to be."
"Well of course they had to be here, you fucking idiot," Dolohov growled, flicking his wand and sending a chair flying and crashing down onto a table that had been trampled. "Where else would Potter have been? That little Mudblood bitch and her blood-traitor boyfriend were around, weren't they? Or maybe your mask is too tight and you missed them."
"Are we going to stand here bickering? Or perhaps we can finish what we came to do," Lucius drawled, impatience colouring his voice.
"Yer a fine one to talk, Malfoy," Rowle stated nastily. "Some of this is your fault; you and your useless son. And I won't be the one at the end of the Dark Lord's wand when this night is over."
Snape saw Lucius' hand twitch as if he were about to pull his wand—Narcissa's wand—on Rowle. Draco had become frozen in place when he heard the demeaning comment concerning him and his father, but there was no way he would challenge the older Death Eater.
"Got something to say, Malfoy?" Rowle challenged, wand displayed clearly at his side as he approached the older Malfoy.
Having enough of being talked down to, Lucius stepped towards Rowle in the same threatening manner. The situation was escalating rapidly, and Snape smoothly shifted forward until he blocked both wizards from meeting.
"This is not the time nor the place," Snape informed coolly. "We'll split up and check everything. Draco, go with Lucius. I'll check the house."
Deciding who would go where among the remaining Death Eaters proved to be another hassle. Once Snape gave instructions on where each person should go, all scattered except Dolohov and Rowle.
"Tell me, Snape, who died and left you in charge?"
Snape had been on the way to the Weasley's crooked house to give the illusion of a search (he knew the Weasleys were long gone) when Dolohov's rough voice made him pause.
"Very charming, Antonin. I wonder how the Dark Lord is going to take the news?"
"What news?"
"The news of his supposedly fiercest, most vaunted follower disobeying his orders to look for Potter all because he has his knickers in a twist. Tell me, do you plan on quarrelling all night? Perhaps I should pull up a chair and find a bottle of Firewhisky if I'm to endure to your little tantrum."
Snape was unable to see Dolohov's face, as the man still wore his silver mask and hood. Yet his feelings were clear enough said as he stalked past Snape, spitting on the ground just as their shoulders were inches apart.
It took little time for the group to cover the search The Burrow. Snape was thorough in his examination, even though he knew that he would not find anything. He went so far as checking the attic, where the Weasleys' ghoul unleashed a series of grunts and snuffles. The noise was easily remedied when Snape flicked his wand at an old wardrobe that was pushed into a corner. Its doors flew open with an unwilling groan, releasing a shower of dust and of moths. The ghoul forgot that he was supposed to be grunting at Snape when he caught sight of the insects. Dragging himself over, he began catching them one by one and shoved them into his mouth. The ghoul continued grunting, only this time it was quieter and with satisfaction as he feasted on his beloved moths.
"There's nothing here," Snape announced when he stalked out of the house and back into the night air.
Lucius and Draco, already done with their search, were now walking into the garden. Surprisingly enough, the older Malfoy had no disparaging remarks about the state of the wonky house or the garden that was littered with various refuse.
"And there's no sign of them whatsoever?" asked Lucius, his voice thick with anxiety.
"None, and I was thorough," Snape replied.
Draco, who was also strangely silent, didn't notice the way his father ever so slightly turned to him.
"Very well. Severus, would you like to lead the way?" Lucius now sounded haughty, which Snape knew was merely his way of saving face.
"Yes, after we gather the rest of these savages."
The three swept out of the garden and began their trek to the other side of the house.
"I was thinking along the lines of obstreperous bastards," said Lucius under his breath to Snape. "Cissy's grown tired of seeing them in our house, and I can't blame her."
"Be grateful for the small things, Lucius," Snape placated drily. "Your charming sister-in-law could have been among our company tonight."
Lucius agreed, and fell silent. The three wizards knew what was likely to happen upon returning to Malfoy Manor without Potter in their custody. Displeased was a drastic understatement as to how the Dark Lord would feel, and while they knew what to expect—a few rounds of Crucio—not a single one of them was inclined to discuss it.
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Unintentional Inveiglement