Postal

Four

The passages to the owlery in the northernmost tower were steep and treacherous enough during the day. But by the light of their wands in the dead of night under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, it was damn near impossible to see. Harry, Ron and Hermione took the slippery stone steps carefully, one at a time. Despite her precautions, Hermione fell back as a trick step beneath her gave way. She landed squarely into Ron who caught her in his arms and set her straight.

"Are you okay?" he asked through her hair. It smelled like vanilla and blackberries.

"Yeah," she replied a little breathlessly.

"Good," he said, sounding suddenly breathless in the dark. Then his voice assumed its familiar jocular tone. "Hermione..."

"What?" she asked, taking her next step gingerly.

"If I told you you had a lovely body, would you hold it against me?" Ron chuckled at his own terrible pun, barely dodging the arm outstretched to shove at his shoulder. It seemed easier to use that line in the dark.

"Ron!" Although no one could see it, she could just imagine her face turning red. Hermione told herself it was the due to the late hour that her mind was loose with non sequiturs,... but she was furious to find herself suddenly thinking of... Professor Snape.

Ahead of them, Harry had stopped moving. By the smell, they knew they had reached the final passage to the owlery.

"Shh!" cautioned Harry. "I think there's someone already in there."

As if to confirm this, they heard soft footsteps and the hooting of owls being disturbed. A moment later, Draco Malfoy appeared at the far end of the corridor coming towards them. On Harry's cue, the other two followed his example, scuttling back into the wall, allowing Malfoy to pass them with a sweep of his robes. Even in the dim light, the smirk on his face told them he was up to something.

They held their breath, watching his slick blond hair recede into the distance and finally disappear before entering the circular chamber. The owlery resembled a stone belfry with hundreds of perches supporting owls of all colours and varieties. A snowy owl of brilliant white at the far end hooted at them in greeting, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other.

"Hello, Hedwig," said Harry. The owl pinched his wrist affectionately before taking the scraps of food he had brought from the kitchens. As she ate, he tied Sirius's note around her leg. If Sirius had been at Hogwarts with this Esmerelda, he'd be able to tell them something about her. Or, maybe even identify Snape's guest.

***

It had been elegant and simple, everything that would have been expected of a Snape from Herstmonceaux. The gardens of the little town between the hills of Sussex Weald and the eastern end of the South Downs glittered in the last of the afternoon's rays as the carriage rolled ceremoniously through the narrow lanes and into the countryside.

She had sat next to him shyly at first, blinking in awe at the crowds of well-wishers who had traveled so far to see the master wed at last. He arranged the coverlet on her lap, regarding her with a mixture of pride and disbelief, that a creature so lovely and so kind-hearted and loving could want him. Him. After all he had done. Knowing what he was, what he had been. Instinctively he glanced at the inside of his left arm, realising with a shock that the mark had gone. She followed his gaze, sharing in his discovery. And the tears of joy in her eyes matched his own. That moment confirmed to him that he was doubly blessed. Impulsively, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. She caught her breath and his own breathing quickened as he met her gaze through half-lowered lashes.

There came at that moment the sound of gunfire, ricocheting around the glen in an even staccato. The carriage halted abruptly. A bony, grey hand wrenched open the door opposite, and he watched helplessly as three black-hooded figures descended upon them and pulled his love from his grasp. The last he heard of her voice was his name in a desperate cry, "Severus!" And the drum of the shots advanced and grew louder still, echoing painfully in his ears...

Severus Snape opened his eyes. The bluish white moonlight through the narrow windows set high on the righthand wall threw the crevices of the dark limestone ceiling into relief. The knocking that had woken him reluctantly persisted, this time clearly from the door to the main dungeon passage. Still groggy, he angrily threw on his black robe, and moved quickly to stand when a movement from the bed behind arrested him to the spot. Slowly turning, he caught sight of creamy white skin and long dark hair sprawled delicately across the pillows. A soft murmur escaped the sleeping woman and he felt an irrepressible tug at the corners of his mouth.

Quietly drawing the curtains around the bed, he crossed the room, unbolted and flung open the door to find... no one. Nothing but a small scroll on the floor, addressed to him in a familiar hand. Closing the door once again, he broke the seal, reading by the moonlight.

"My dear Severus,

Please excuse the late hour of this request, but I have been informed of a matter of great urgency and would be grateful for your presence in my office.

Albus Dumbledore"

Behind him, she moaned softly in her sleep, and his heart sank. And he knew, without looking, that the Dark Mark was still there.