It took seven jumps for Saturnine to throw up whatever she’d had for supper. Severus outlasted her by one jump only, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of himself for it.

“How much further, do you think?” he asked, spitting out what he hoped was only saliva.

“Not far, I think. Maybe one or two more jumps,” his sister answered, looking around the small clearing they’d Apparated to as if it held all the answers. They’d been steadfastly going south, but that was about the extent of their knowledge. “I’ll have to cut them really short now.”

He nodded, barely repressing the cynical criticism this last sentence inspired in him. He hadn’t remained silent to spare his sister’s feelings but because he didn’t trust his stomach much at the moment.

What they were doing was a hair’s breadth short of utter madness. The first rule of Apparition was to never jump to a place you had never been before. Another was to never attempt consecutive jumps in a short period. Not only were they likely to Apparate in front of an oncoming train or inside a mountain, but the more they tried it, the more they were at risk to leave behind body parts.

Severus had the sense that the first four or five jumps had been to places Saturnine had been more or less familiar with, but there was no denying that they were Apparating into unknown locations now. As much as it made him ill-at-ease, he also knew there was no other way to find Draco and Potter. They had no choice but to keep following the thread of their necklaces’ magic and hope for the best.

Taking a step closer to his sister, he held out his arm for her to Apparate them both away for the ninth time. Saturnine surprised him by reaching for his shoulder instead. He froze when he felt her thumb digging in to massage a spot near his clavicle.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, her voice gentle despite the strain her body had been put under sustaining the multiple double-Apparitions.

Severus felt like snorting at the stupidity of her question—as if she hadn’t been the one puking her guts out during their last stop in Nowheresville. He was about to remind her of that fact when his eyes caught her searching gaze, and he noticed the concern within. She wasn’t worried about his upset digestive tract.

He couldn’t go there, though—no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn’t the right time for it, not with the clock of doom steadfastly working against them. Severus needed to keep a clear head—to focus on the task at hand. There’d be time later for—well, for all the rest.

He nodded, and Saturnine’s hand moved to his forearm. They were gone an instant later.

***

Two more jumps and they Apparated outside a tiny village somewhere in the Fenlands. The eastern low-lying agricultural land was instantly recognisable to the Potions Master.

Going by the soil around his feet, Severus judged them to be near the coast. The ground here was rich, fertile, stoneless, and silty, while inland soils were made primarily of swathes of dark, friable, fen peat. Several of the plants he had in his storeroom came from around here, and in other circumstances, he would have been on the lookout for rare herbs.

“How much—further?” he asked as he bent over in half to try to stave his upset stomach.

“One more—jump,” Saturnine panted. She’d assumed a similar position. “I’m sure. I can—feel that—we’re close.”

“Somewhere secluded—in the middle of the marshes, then,” he said, forcing himself to straighten back up. “An old manor—of some kind—probably.”

Saturnine was still bent in half, but she’d regained control of her breathing. “What’s the plan once we get there?”

“Get in—find the boys—get out,” he panted out, and that was the gist of it. They could work out the finer details when they got there.

***

The house they had Apparated in front of might have been considered a lavish manor in its heyday, but it hadn’t aged well and was long past its prime. It now looked worn-out and dilapidated, much like the 12 Grimmauld Place townhouse that had once been a statement to the grandeur of the House of Black but was now no more than a sore spot tarnishing the Pureblood’s real estate pantheon.

“Know whose house this is?” Saturnine asked through clenched teeth.

Whether her clipped words stemmed from the tension preceding the battle to come or the aftereffects of one too many Apparitions Severus, didn’t know. Nor did he care to find out. “No idea,” he replied. “Someone sympathetic to the cause, most likely.”

They had Apparated in a small grove near the back of a large, two-storey building and had immediately crouched low to avoid detection. At their backs, a roddon marked the former course of an old riverbed. The inland silt bank looked like a stranded, giant sea serpent above the dark peat soil, and Severus couldn’t think of it as anything other than a bad omen.

Saturnine stooped a little as she started creeping forward. Severus understood her intention to stalk along the eastern facade to inspect the front, and he followed suit, hunching as low as his tall frame would allow.

The ground was muddy beneath their feet, and it was impossible to quiet the squelching sounds of the earth’s attempts at swallowing their shoes with every step. Glad that he’d left his long teaching robes behind, Severus glanced forward to check on his sister’s choice of footwear. While she may have worn her usual pair of dark trousers and blue blouse—the same azure hue of her eyes, he now realised—she’d switched to another pair of shoes for their nightly escapade. Her leather boots were of a thicker matter, sturdier, and as a result, Saturnine had no trouble navigating the uneven ground. She’d probably had them on earlier, too, but it hadn’t been relevant for him to take notice before. His own shoes were of the same type: sturdy and reliable on many terrains.

The side of the imposing, two-storey building revealed much of the same as the back: a fraying facade, half-eaten by vines and moss. The siblings crept towards the front as much as they could, stopping when they ran out of coverage to hide behind. There was no guard in sight. But that didn’t mean there weren’t other means of security, and neither of them risked revealing themselves just yet. Despite its ghastly exterior, the house was inhabited, as evidenced by the lights shining outwards through the many windows. But whoever was inside remained clear of the openings.

“My necklace’s in there,” Saturnine said before giving its twin back to him. “I’m sure of it.”

“This type of building probably comes with a cellar of some kind,” Severus said as he fastened the necklace back around his neck. “That’s where I would keep prisoners.”

“Bedrooms and bathrooms on the upper floor,” the brown-haired witch said, her hand rising to indicate the locations in turn. “Kitchen on the eastern side. Probably a small parlour close to the entrance—a dining room in between.” Her hand strayed west to the further half of the manor. “Following down the chimney we can see on the roof, we ought to get to a large living area. It probably takes up most of the western wing—unless there’s a small library there, too, or a study.”

“The Dark Lord will be using the living room or the dining room, depending on the mood of the day,” Severus informed her, praying that it wouldn’t be the latter and that blasted snake wasn’t in attendance. Nagini was always hungry for some wizard skin, and—Occlumency or not—he didn’t think he could stomach the sight if the Dark Lord let her loose on Draco.

“We’d best get in through the kitchen, then.” Saturnine’s gaze returned to the facade they had just skulked past. “Where do you estimate the stairs to be?”

He couldn’t tell. “Close by, I hope.”

She thought it over, her gaze darting left and right. “Without knowing where the boys are and who’s with them, I won’t risk Apparating directly inside. The windows are pretty old, the hinges rusty. It shouldn’t be too hard to force them open.” Severus nodded his agreement. “Shall we break in the Muggle way, then, brother?” she asked with a smirk.

He was saved from having to come up with something equally humorous himself when movement in the Manor’s courtyard caught his attention. Where there had been nothing now stood a dark, moving shadow. An instant later, it was joined by another, and another.

The wizards’ attire left little to the imagination. He owned a similar mask and set of dark robes himself.

“Death Eaters,” Saturnine muttered as she stepped closer to him, retreating to the grove’s darkness.

He nodded. A lot of them. Apparating with short, frequent bursts of magic in response to their Dark Lord’s Summon. Looking down at his idle forearm, Severus frowned as comprehension dawned on him—he hadn’t been summoned. He wouldn’t be included in whatever entertainment the Dark Lord had planned for this night. And that could only mean one thing: his spying days were over. He’d had his doubts when the school was attacked without his notification beforehand—not to mention what the Dark Lord might have seen if he used Legillimency on Draco again. Now he knew for sure that he’d outlasted his usefulness to his Master. Reaching inside one of his coat’s inner pockets, he retrieved a small crystal phial he always carried with him. Removing the stopper, he brought it to his lips before drowning its content. The taste was as awful as he’d expected.

Saturnine gave him a puzzled look, but he shook his head to indicate that she had better save her breath and refrain from asking him any questions. Besides, they had more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, rescuing two kidnapped teenagers from a house swarming with Death Eaters.

They could have called in for reinforcement, but the last thing they needed was a full-frontal assault of the place with hexes flying left and right. The unpredictability of such a bloodbath was too dangerous to consider. Besides, they had to act now; whatever time had been given to them to attempt a rescue was dwindling to a close. The Manor’s security would only be weakened during the summoning phase. Every second they wasted could turn out to be the one instant they would end up missing in the end. It would have to be a surgical strike, he realised.

Having come to a decision, Severus instructed, “Go to the boys. Get them out.”

Saturnine rounded on him, eyes narrowing like a bird of prey on a hunt. “What of you?”

“Distraction,” he said without wanting to get into details.

Taking a step closer to him, she flatly refused. “No.”

Severus hmphed, letting his annoyance show. “Don’t fight me on this, Saturnine. We don’t have the time for it.”

She shook her head, and he knew she wouldn’t let him have his way; stubbornness was a hereditary trait with the Snapes, after all. “I said no, Severus. We can still go with my plan—creep in discreetly.”

“We won’t last five minutes, and you know it. You can still feel the necklace’s pull, can’t you? Give me a head start to get in and start a riot, then Apparate to the boys. It’s our only chance.”

Saturnine reached for his arm to halt him. “I said no, Severus.” Her tone was resolute, but she’d kept the volume of her voice in check. “I won’t watch you sacrifice yourself. Not now that I—”

“Let go!” Severus cut in, mid-sentence. He couldn’t restrain his sneer—as if he would give her a choice. This whole mess was his to clean up, and he would do what he had to. As he prepared to wrench his forearm free, he felt a hook grab him from behind the navel, and he was forcefully yanked away for the twelfth time that night.