A/N: High time to spell Lestrange's doom? I agree - let's bring out the Marauders.
Chapter XXXIII: Where Loyalties Rest
Demetris' health improved significantly with the regular application of the potion Madam Pomfrey had prepared and on the third day, the matron returned. By common consensus in the span of those three days, it was decided that the first priority was ensuring the survival of Avery and Demetris when they went back to Lestrange. For that they needed to go back together.
Avery was confined to the kitchen for now, and despite his frustrated reaction and lack of explanation for his restriction, he accepted it finally. The members of the Order that were supposedly dead, purposefully avoided the aforementioned room, and only when Avery was asleep, did they venture down for any needs. For additional precaution, Harry even took his invisibility cloak.
"You are in an excellent condition," Madam Pomfrey declared to a glowing Demetris. "Full recovery."
"Thank you," he smiled, "much appreciated."
"Now, stay out of any exertion that will tax you beyond what you can bear," she instructed him in her typical professional tone. "Else you'll be back here with me by your side."
"I wouldn't mind," Demetris teased her, and Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened.
"The audacity!" she exclaimed. "Good day, Mr. Snape!"
With that she magically packed her supplies and left the room. At the bottom of the staircase, Harry intercepted her, and exchanged a few words before she finally departed.
Avery had been sedated for the time being, so as to fully assess Demetris' condition without potential interference from him. Harry and Ron went up to the guest bedroom to see for themselves the improved condition of the patient.
"Good day, gentlemen," the old man was sitting on the bed, putting on a pair of socks over his wrinkled feet. "Good to see you."
"Hey," Ron beat Harry to it. "Amazing to see you in one piece too."
Harry, however, while thankful for Demetris, wanted to bring forth the most pressing matter.
As if the old man read his mind, he put up a hand. "Later, Harry. There is no rush."
So he did read his thoughts. Harry berated internally his Occlumency skills. "Welcome back, Demetris," he smiled genuinely.
"I am starving," the old wizard started a new tack in the conversation. "Let's go eat breakfast, and talk over everything that's on Harry's mind." He looked pointedly at the temperamental bespectacled wizard.
"Good idea," Harry agreed. There was a reason for Demetris suggesting it - a delicious smell was indeed wafting through the house, which could only mean Mrs. Weasley was in her element. Even something as simple as bacon and eggs could make one's mouth water when she made it...
Conspicuously, every living resident of the hidden headquarters was around the kitchen table remarkably quickly. Mrs. Weasley, back still turned to the stove, only smiled to herself knowingly.
"All done," she called out.
Somebody's growling stomach asserted its impatience. Chances were it was Ron. Or the twins. It wasn't clear which one of them loved their mother's cooking the most.
"Do you think it's sort of parsimonious that Avery is going to be asleep through all of this?" Hermione asked Harry guiltily. "I mean, maybe we can give him his real memories back for the rest of the day."
Harry didn't reply right away, which mean he was considering the idea, but also knew it went against his better judgement. "It is a necessary evil, Hermione. We just can't take the risk...who knows what Lestrange will do when she finds out her big plan failed."
In all honesty, Hermione did think the situation was absurd, but there was no alternative. So, with pangs of guilt still stabbing at her, she dug voraciously into Mrs. Weasley's breakfast.
"What was the last time we did this?" Harry asked Hermione after the consecutive mouthful.
The chatter around them seemed to be focusing in on the same topic of conversation.
"I don't even know," Hermione glanced at him, "it has been way too long."
"That I can agree with it," Harry nodded, scooping up another mouthful. "The sooner we kill Lestrange, the sooner we can enjoy this more!"
"Ditto."
Was murder an appropriate table conversation? The characters decided to let the reader hold the final verdict.
Everyone lingered at the table rather longer than needed. Even if there was work to be done, nobody quite wanted to leave the pleasant atmosphere. Sporadic conversation still happened, and for the first time, not about something considering the Order, Lestrange or the constant risk of death. The Weasley grandparents each had a grandchild on their laps, and both James and Madelyn were smiling at something Mr. Weasley had said, while Ron was doing an impression of something...
Harry observed the activities with interest. He really wanted that scene with a family of his too...
If only.
He couldn't help but feel a tad emotional about such matters...the first war hardened him and this one threatened to leave him without emotions - how ironic would be that, he thought with a distant smile.
His hand snaked around Hermione's waist, and he pulled her towards him. She seemed to snap out of a reverie of her own, and turned to him.
"One day, I promise," he whispered to her.
Ever so slightly, a red tinged her cheeks. "I know," she told him.
Luna was discussing something with Mrs. Weasley while Remus and Tonks had taken part in the distraction of the two little ones. Indeed, it was a happy time.
Harry shifted his attention to Demetris, who was staring off into space, deep in contemplation.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry asked him, startling him back to reality.
"Oh, hey, Harry," he said. "Sorry about that."
"No worries," Harry told him. "What's on your mind?"
The old man sighed. "Trying to think how I'm going to save my skin against Lestrange. Avery too - I think she has it in for us."
"What makes you say that?" Harry asked him, confused.
"I've probed her thoughts," Demetris explained. "She is looking for any way to justify killing me and him, because we are uncomfortable in terms of her trust, but at the same time, we're valuable in what we do for her. She has nobody else who is this far inside the Order, or anyone who is smart enough to repeat it."
"Well then," Harry observed, "you may be a thorny issue, but she can't afford to kill you."
"Not really," he agreed. "But not so is Avery's case. To her, he is expendable. She has no idea what he knows."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "And what about Dolohov's replacement? Is there anyone to take his place?"
"That's not the issue," Demetris said. "She can always find a loyal dog to fill the void. He wasn't anything special either, and we're full of incapable Occlumens...someone will make the cut."
"You dismiss it too lightly," Harry commented.
"Because I know Antonin has no worthy replacement. He was loyal, but also good. Nobody right now can match what he was."
"But he's dead."
Demetris smiled. "Yes, but you do know how long he has been around, no?"
Harry was forced to agree. "I do."
"In essence, she's running out of capable people to do her bidding. What Avery has going for him is that he has come unscathed from missions that would otherwise be impossible."
"Do you think that will protect him?"
The former professor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not fully. I can extend protection over him, so Lestrange had no access to his thoughts and so pose a direct challenge to her. Maybe we'll say what has always been under the surface of our relationship."
"She isn't very fond of you, is she?" Harry asked, even though he knew the question was largely rhetorical.
"That's true," Demetris affirmed anyway.
"Well then, your only option is to pose the direct challenge to Lestrange. If she has any reason left, she will spare you."
"If I was younger, I could match her in a fight, but at my age, that is impossible," Demetris went on. "We need to rely largely on chance here."
"I know, and I'm not comfortable with the thought either," Harry rejoined. "When do you think you should go about the whole affair?"
"As soon as possible," Demetris replied snappishly, "the purpose of the whole mission is to check our loyalties. She thinks Dolohov is still trailing us. The Order killing him and Nott would certainly provide a plausible story, and I'll make sure she accepts it, should we live beyond today."
"Isn't it amazing how casual we are about this?" Harry smiled coldly.
"Oh, I know," Demetris returned the gesture. "All a part of a Death Eater's life."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Also, do mention you killed Draco successfully. More precisely, Dolohov did, which should placate her, more or less."
"You think so?"
"I can't guarantee it," Harry reasoned. "But it's definitely a positive for you. In the meanwhile, we'll bring him back for good."
"Alright," Demetris declared with finality. "Clear out the kitchen. I'll awaken Avery, and we go take care of this today. If we live, you will know."
"Good luck, my friend," Harry told him neutrally.
With that, he returned to the kitchen and left Snape to consider the finer points of his approach to Bellatrix.
"Alright! Everyone needs to go!" he called over the crowd, and the chatter suddenly died.
"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked him.
"Demetris wants to confront Lestrange as soon as possible," he explained. "For that he needs to awaken Avery. And we know he must not see most of you here."
"Already?" Ron was surprised. "I thought he might give it a few more days."
"Guess not," Harry rejoined quickly. "Now go. No time left to waste."
**
"So what is this plan of yours?" Avery asked Demetris as they walked out of Grimmauld Place onto the busy street.
"In essence, a way to save our arses from Lestrange's killing curse."
"Care to elaborate?" Avery was slightly annoyed. "Or do you plan on keeping me in the dark about it too."
"Of course not," Demetris told him patiently. "All I need you to do is cooperate, and I'll tell you everything that we're going to do."
"Fine then," Avery conceded. "You have my attention."
"Alright," Demetris said carefully. "You will be under my mental protection. Inevitably, Lestrange will attempt to read your mind. I'm going to stop her from doing it, since she isn't as strong without Dolohov to help her."
"But won't she know about it?"
"Yes, of course she will," Demetris went on impatiently. "The point is, we don't have too much time to operate. We'll tell her Malfoy is dead, but Dolohov and Nott were lost in a scrap with the Order."
"That's it?" Avery asked, amazed.
"That's it."
"You do realize that will be a direct challenge to her," he said. "She does not take kindly to disobedience."
"We're too valuable to be killed," Demetris told him. "And I suspect, that will be our ticket out of the entire Death Eater organization."
"How do you mean?" Avery found himself ignorant of his colleague's ways once more.
"We can only stretch her mistrust so much before she acts. The next chance we receive a mission that involves the Order, we cross over permanently."
"That will mean certain death!" the other protested loudly. Several pedestrians turned around curiously.
"Keep it down, will you," Demetris hissed. "I didn't say there was no risk involved."
"Well, yes, but what do you propose we do! The Order is a shadow of its former self."
"Don't worry about that," the old man replied. "Look at it from another way."
"What other way is there?"
"Are you honestly this dim," Demetris said in exasperation. "Think about it."
"Unfortunately, I can't see far past certain death," Avery told him coldly.
"Fine, I'll say it. Without us, Lestrange loses access to the Order. In other words, grows weaker. The most capable Death Eaters on her side are gone. They were all from Voldemort's days."
"Don't say his name," Avery said nervously.
"Forget that," Demetris went on almost feverishly. "There is a way to beat her for good. To bring the advantage on our side."
"I see now," Avery agreed. "The sooner we finish, the better. Let's go."
The two men, generations apart, but minded towards the same cause, apparated away towards the Dark, for what was hopefully the last time they would do it willingly.
When they arrived at the Manor, both Demetris and Avery were surprised to note the increased activity. Death Eaters was streaming in and out of the house, talking together in small groups, and as they approached closer and closer, their colleagues by the trade of bringing death only looked them in various ways - from outright jealousy, to compassion and utter confusion.
"What's going on here?" Avery asked Demetris in an undertone.
"Damned if I know," the other replied tensely. "I don't quite want to probe any minds right now - not until we see Lestrange."
"I think this is about us," Avery rejoined.
"Smart one, you are," Demetris' uneasiness showed itself.
They caught talk of a mission, certain death, You-Know-Who and some other indistinct murmurs, and that was until a burly Death Eater suddenly came up in front of them and stopped them in their tracks.
"Jonathan Avery and Demetris Snape," he called out loudly, consulting a parchment in his hand. "You are to report to Bellatrix Lestrange at once!"
"What does she want with us?" Demetrins inquired forcefully of the Death Eater - his rank was probably higher than that of the average hitman.
"Don't ask me," he was curt with them. "Just go, or my head will roll."
Demetris and Avery did not object, and moved on towards the front doors. The burly announced slipped into the crowd and did not bother them again.
"Must be bad," Avery breathed.
"Focus on staying alive," Demetris said as neutrally as he could. "It's a madwoman in there."
They turned into the hallway that led into Lestrange's chamber. As always, it was lined on both sides with silent Death Eaters, ensuring her security.
"Fanatical bastards," Demetris murmured under his breath, fixing each guardian with a cold stare. They did not respond in the slightest.
At last, they reached the doors. Avery raised his hand to knock, but he did not need to. They opened of their own accord.
"Enter," the chilling voice came from within.
Her chamber seemed more dimly lit than usual. Typically, the curtains were pulled back on at least one of the windows, but on this occasion, only candles lit the surroundings.
"Welcome back, Demetris," the deadly quiet voice said.
"Lestrange," he acknowledged her no less coldly.
She emerged from the darkness in the back of the chamber to stand in the candlelight. "Do you remember, Demetris, how you arrived here?"
"I do," he replied with conviction. "Do you?"
Avery thought his audacity with their Mistress was nothing less than suicidal.
"You have no right to disrespect me, Demetris," her eyes flared, and she whipped out her wand. "Crucio!"
She did not count on her adversary's experience. He waved his hand, and a silver shield appeared in thin air that dispelled the painful cure into nothingness.
"Enough," his voice boomed.
Lestrange seemed startled for a moment. "Now, put the wand down," he told her. "And let us talk."
She barely seemed to be able to hold control over herself. "How dare you give orders!"
"I don't preach orders, Lestrange," the old man corrected her. "I speak of common sense."
Surprisingly, and to Avery's utter amazement, she cooperated. "Talk, then."
"I asked you a question," Demetris said. "Answer me."
She leered at him. "I have long suspected you of treachery, Snape. To Voldemort and to myself."
"You have?" he repeated, his expression unreadable. Avery followed the discussion with intense interest.
"Neither he, nor me, have ever managed to read your mind," she was frank. "And your history does not help your case."
"I refuse to have my thoughts invaded when I can prevent it," Demetris told her without the slightest trace of shame.
"Did your loyalty to that old fool Dumbledore ever disappear?" she questioned him slyly.
"Has your dislike for him abated over the years?" he countered her, without giving her a straight answer - his life depended on it.
"You haven't answered my question," she raised her voice.
"I don't intend to," he said. "Is my presence here not enough answer for you?"
Her jaw fixed, but she knew he was making a valid point.
"Is Malfoy dead?" she changed tack.
"He is," Demetris confirmed neutrally. "Dead and gone."
"Why is Antonin dead as well?" she asked, still looking at him furiously.
"Fight with the Order," he told her without the slightest hint of remorse. "Nott and Dolohov were killed. Avery escaped just barely."
She turned her eyes to her second servant, but her efforts to penetrate his memories were frustrated by Demetris.
"Why are you protecting him, Snape?" she snapped at him. "I should kill you right now."
"You can't kill me, or Avery," he objected her calmly.
Lestrange seemed royally angry now. "And why is that! Shall I have a demonstration?"
"Don't bother," Demetris said, playing the trump card he had been holding this whole time. "We are too valuable to you. Who will infiltrate the Order when we're gone? You can't resurrect me, Dolohov or Avery. They have the spell you need."
"Therein lies my next, and final task for you," she leered at him, her ugly smile widening. "Bring me the spells. All of them. Again, you and Avery will cooperate on this task."
He could not prevent a look of surprise momentarily passing over his expression.
"How do you mean?"
"Very simple, Snape," she squarely looked at him. "This is your last chance to show me where your loyalties lie. You have access to those spells - bring then to me, and you and Avery live. Else, I will personally hunt you down and kill you. Do we have an understanding?"
Demetris had donned on that unreadable mask on his face again. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I think we do."
"You are dismissed."
Walking out from her chamber, Demetris knew of the choice he had to make - and assert his true self.
A/N: Yeah, I think the Marauders may be coming back later...
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