The candles burned low in the ground floor sitting room as Severus and Hermione sat side by side on the settee, staring at the fire, the way they had the night their relationship began.

He'd come home. He hated this—sitting here, doing nothing, feeling helpless. But Hermione was right; walking around London aimlessly would serve no purpose but to exhaust him. If he hadn't found Leopold by now, then he hadn't gone to any of the usual haunts of his graduates.

He was at a loss for where to look next.

Luna and Longbottom had made a full report to him upon his arrival. They'd scoured every single corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley: every shop, every hiding place, every rubbish bin, everything. They'd spoken with every shopkeeper, shown his picture to a number of people. No one had seen him.

Luna and Longbottom had looked tired and dejected. He'd felt the same.

Either Leopold had never been there, or he had actively hidden from them if he had.

Not for the first time in his life, Severus wished for a spell that would locate a person. There had to be something he could do to keep track of them—something that would allow them to call to him or for him to reach them and Apparate to their sides at will.

He swallowed thickly as he thought of the mark on his arm and the purpose for which the Dark Lord had used it. He abandoned the train of thought immediately. Even if he meant to use the Protean charm from a desire to do good, it was too much. He would never do to them what the Dark Lord had done to him and their parents, even for their own safety.

He sighed heavily. How could he have let this happen again?

"I've made so many mistakes," Severus whispered.

"Hush, love," Hermione said, stroking his forearm. "You did the best you could. You always have, Severus. Always."

He shook his head. "No. I hesitated. I made mistakes. I am the one responsible for what happened. You always pushed me to get the girls out of the brothel, and I never did. For stupid, stupid reasons. I put my own fear ahead of their needs. My own fear of the risk involved. My own… cowardice." He spat the word out like a bad potion. "I chose some over others. And in the end, was it worth it? Does it make any sort of bloody difference? I took the lives of innocents. Again."

"That's not true, sweetheart, and you know it. You always put them first. Always."

He shook his head. "If I hadn't gone to find you…"

"…Leopold still would have left Hogwarts," Hermione admonished. "According to Neville, he was already gone by the time you left. And if that had anything to do with it, it's me who bears that blame. Me. Not you."

He sighed. "I should have listened to you."

"You listen to me all the time."

"No… about them. I should have brought the girls here. I should have stayed at the hospital with Xavier Yaxley. I should go to Azkaban more often. I should…"

"…Keep doing what you're doing." Hermione ran her hands through his short black hair. "There's no such thing as perfect in this situation, Severus. You're doing the best that you can. That's all you can do in this situation. That's the best you can do in this situation: try your best."

"And with you," he said, turning to his fiancée. "This night should have been about you. I should be toasting you with champagne and making love to you on a duvet sprinkled with rose petals."

"Do you honestly think I care about any of that?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Severus Snape, you and I are together because of them. We fell in love with one another through our commitment to them. Our commitment to each other is rooted in our commitment to them. And while I do believe we are very well-suited for one another, and that we're a brilliant pair, I seriously doubt we would have found our way to one another without them. They helped us see each other for who we really are. They were the great equalizer, the ones who forced us to cut the crap and be honest with ourselves and each other, because anything less would have shortchanged them. They pushed our comfort zone and made us see both each other and the world in a brand new light. So, Severus, I want you to shut your mouth about that romantic claptrap. Not only does it not matter tonight of all nights, it also wouldn't be you."

Severus's face flushed, only slightly. "You're right," he said. "But I still think you deserve so much better than what I am able to give you."

She rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of him. "Enough with the self-pity. I know what I signed up for. I knew it all the way back then, and I know it now. And believe it or not, mister, I know you. I know what you are and what you are not. So stop. This night isn't about us."

Severus's face fell. "No, it isn't."

Hermione gripped his knee, careful not to rub it in the way that made him amorous. "We will find him, Severus."

He shook his head. "I never find them in time. Before I lose them for good."

"You aren't in this alone anymore," Hermione pointed out. "You have me and Harry and Luna and Neville. We are all in this with you. Today we failed to find him. So tomorrow we will go out and look for him again."

Severus turned to face her, his face full of sadness and resignation. "And if we don't find him tomorrow?"

"Then we get up the next day and we look for him again."

"And if we fail again?"

"Then we get up the next day and we look for him again."

"And if—"

"Severus!" Hermione said, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eye. "We look again! We look again and again and we never stop. We never give up, not on them and not on us. Do you understand?"

She was alarmed. Severus, for all his pessimism and resignation about the world, had never succumbed to a fit of melancholy like this before. At least not in her presence. She considered that this was his way of asking for help, of wanting to be told that things would be all right. Stubborn, proud man wouldn't stoop to ask her directly; as was generally the case with him, she'd had to read between the lines. Severus had never asked her for her help before. Oh, she'd forced it on him more times than she could count now, but he'd never actually sought it. He was in a bad way if he was seeking her aid.

He must have allowed himself to get his hopes up about Leopold, and now he was suffering for it.

He closed his eyes and shook his head minutely. "I don't want to fail them. Not again."

"Severus," Hermione said in the tone she'd always reserved for bullying Ron and Harry into doing their homework. "No man is a failure who has friends. You have us, and we are not giving up, and we are not going to let you give up. We will find him. We will save him. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Hermione hardened her expression. "I always keep my promises."

The door burst open, startling both of them out of their lament. They jumped up and aimed their wands at the door in a defensive stance, Severus instinctively pushing Hermione behind him. It took only a fraction of a second to register who it was and what had happened, but to Severus and Hermione, it felt like years.

There stood Leopold Clairemont, his face and hair dirty and windswept, clinging to the hand of a skinny, scantily-clad teenage girl who clung back just as tightly. She looked frightened and relieved all at once, with tears in her eyes, making her mascara run in streaks down her pale face. It was her, the eldest Rosier child. Brigita.

Standing behind them was the emaciated face of Draco Malfoy.

A feather could have knocked Severus and Hermione over.

Leopold and Severus stood staring at one another.

"I'm sorry!" Leopold cried, grasping his sister tightly as if one of the adults would steal her away if he let go. Any anger he might have felt at the man for keeping this a secret from him vanished as he was consumed with worry for his sister's safety; for that he would swallow his pride and demand no explanations, if it meant Brigita would be safe. "I found out where she was, and what they were making her do, and I had to get her out of there. You didn't save her, so I had to save her. I couldn't leave her there! I'm sorry!" He was sobbing now, grasping his sister tighter.

As soon as the man had Disapparated, Leopold had fallen to his knees, gripping his head in his hands, trying to stop the tears that insisted on coming. This man had been his last hope. With him gone, there was really no one else he could turn to. None of the men going in and out of that horrible place would stop to help him—they were the ones hurting Brigita. And Leopold couldn't get in on his own. He couldn't get a message inside to her, and for whatever reason she seemed like she couldn't leave on her own. He also had no idea where he was relative to Grimmauld Place, and had no means of contacting his friends, or Snape, or any of the others in the house.

He felt helpless and pathetic and weak and small.

He had tried to be a hero and failed miserably.

What could he do now?

The sound of a loud crack of Apparition brought him back to himself. He stood up, jerking around wildly to see who it was. He cried out in relief at what he saw.

The blonde man, standing before him and holding a scantily-clad and struggling Brigita tightly by the upper arm.

"Let me go!" she screeched at the man, hitting him with her free hand. The man stood there, stone-faced and still, as if she wasn't there at all.

"Brigita!" Leopold shouted. At the sound of her name, Brigita turned and saw her brother. She made a loud cry of relief before shrugging out of the man's grasp and throwing herself into her little brother's arms. Though he wasn't so little anymore. He was already taller than her, even if only just. Years of malnutrition and abuse had kept her rather petite for her age. "Oh, God," she sobbed, clinging to him as tightly as he did to her. It had been over two years since they'd last seen each other.

Leopold drew away a bit to examine his sister. She was wearing hardly any clothes, had a bruise over her right eye that a charm failed to hide, and she was so, so skinny. Her hair was about three shades lighter than it had been before, and was curled and fluffed out. She was shaky, as if she hadn't eaten for a day, her skin was deathly pale as if she hadn't seen the sun in months, and her eyes were so splotched with mascara and tears she looked like a panda bear.

"Oh, Brigita," Leopold sighed, the weight of her plight heavy on his shoulders.

"I never wanted you to see me like this," she whispered, shame-faced.

Leopold shook his head resolutely and pulled her back into his arms. "I'm just so glad I found you."

"You shouldn't be here," she said. "This is a dangerous place, you could get hurt. And I'm a different person than you knew. They'll realise I've gone soon, and I can't have them finding you. They'll punish me for certain, but I won't let them punish you. I belong here now, in… that place." Her voice dripped with resignation.

Leopold fiercely shook his head and gripped her so hard she felt she might suffocate. "You belong to me, Brigita," he whispered. "You belong to me. And we belong in this world, together. Not here, not in places like this. We don't belong here. You don't belong here. This isn't your life anymore. I won't let them hurt you anymore. Never again."

Brigita huffed a small laugh. "Where will we go?" she asked, half humouring him, half curious.

"Home," Leopold said. "I'll take you home."

"Where's home? The orphanage?"

"No," he said. "Our real home, with our sister Ermengarde. I'll take you home."

Both of them turned their heads to the blonde man who had rescued Brigita. He stood there looking uncomfortable, clearly aware that his presence was intruding on something private.

Leopold released his hold on his sister, trusting that she would still be there when he returned, and looked at the man. "Sir, I… I don't know how I can thank you. What you've done…"

The man shook his head. "I'm not a bloody hero," he muttered. "So don't you go making me into one."

"We have to get her home," Leopold said. "The way you Apparated with her… could you do it again? With both of us?"

The man hesitated before nodding. "Yes," he said. "Where do you need to go?"

"We live with Mr. Snape," Leopold said. He knew this was a risk; Snape had always said to never mention that he was the one who cared for them. Said it was for their own safety.

The man's eyes widened. "So I see," he said softly.

"You know him?"

The man nodded.

"You've known him for a long time?"

The man nodded again.

"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?"

After a pause, the man nodded again. Without another word, Leopold took him by the arm and offered his hand to his sister, who took it firmly. Without a word, the three Disapparated away from Knockturn Alley.

Severus stood, gobsmacked. How had he known about Brigita and where she was? No one had told him, and no one at Hogwarts except for Longbottom knew. Could he have overheard an older student? That had to have been how.

The whole situation fell into place for him. Leopold Clairemont had, on the sketchiest information about the whereabouts of a loved one, sneaked out of Hogwarts in the dead of night, commandeered a thestral, flown across the whole of Britain to London, where he found his way into Knockturn Alley—a place he had never visited before—and found the hidden brothel where his sister was located, convinced a complete stranger to go inside and retrieve her, and brought them back to Grimmauld Place. He had not said a word to anyone, not sought confirmation, not waited a few weeks until he would be in London anyway, not asked for help.

It was mad. It was risky. It was dangerous. It was bloody stupid.

Merlin if the boy wasn't a bloody Gryffindor through and through.

Without a word, Severus dropped his wand and stormed over to the Rosier siblings.

"I couldn't leave her there," Leopold continued to sob, pleading with Severus. "I couldn't leave her."

Standing over them with furious eyes, he held their gaze for a moment before dropping to his knees and pulling them both into his arms.

They wrapped theirs around him, and the three held each other, shaking on the spot.

"I am very angry with you," he said in a low and deadly voice.

"I know," Leopold said in a small choked voice. He pulled back and looked Severus in the eye. "You'll take care of her now, won't you? You took care of her before. She was safe with you before. You have to take care of her again. She can't go back there. She needs you. Please. Please take care of her again."

He looked to Hermione with the same pleading eyes. "Both of you have to take care of her." He turned back to Severus. "You won't send her back there, will you? You won't do that just because you're angry with me, will you?" Leopold was babbling now and he knew it. Silence was too much. If he could keep talking, keep pleading, ineloquent as his words were, Brigita would not go anywhere.

If he threw her out, he threw Leopold out too. He would leave school, find work, do something, anything, to keep Brigita from going back there. He was the man of the family now. He would keep her safe. She was worth it.

In a gruff voice, Severus whispered, "Take your sister upstairs to your room. Ermengarde is waiting for you."

Eyes widening, a grin spreading across his face, Leopold grabbed his sister's hand and pulled her after him. The girl was nervous, not quite looking Severus or Hermione in the eye. "It's all right," Leopold whispered to her. "You're safe now. He'll take care of you again, like he did before. You'll never have to be scared again. He won't let anyone hurt you. He never did before. Come on." Taking her hand, he led his sister up the stairs.

Hermione turned her eyes to the man who had stood in the house only once before, when she had Apparated him in against his will to try to save him.

"Malfoy, did you…?" Hermione's voice trailed off as the emotion overcame her. He had rescued one of them, taken her out of that horrible place, she was certain of it. She knew it, she knew that he wasn't dangerous.

Without further thought she threw her arms around his dirty and weakened body. She knew he hated every second of this, but didn't care. "Thank you," she whispered in a choked voice. "Thank you so much."

Malfoy cleared his throat and pushed her away, averting her eyes. "I remember Brigita Rosier. She was just a tiny thing. Loved her father."

"But how?"

"Madam Lyudmila owed my father several favours." He stared at the floor. "He was the one who kept the Ministry out of her hair, bought the silence of others, you get the idea. Because of him, her business continued to operate and all the freedom she enjoys now is due to him. One way she repaid him was by giving him, and me, the ability to Apparate in and out of her establishment with a girl in our arms. She apparently never lifted it, thinking both of us were dead. Everyone knows my father's dead, and most assume I'm dead too. I guess I am in many ways. Anyway, I suspect that it will be a while before she realises that Brigita is not coming back. I Confunded the man she was with and sent him on his way. Lyudmila probably won't come looking for her until morning."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Malfoy continued talking before she could.

"The others…"

"Could you?" Hermione asked hurriedly, before backing up and considering.

Malfoy nodded.

"Do you know who they are?"

Malfoy nodded again.

"Rooms one, three, five, eight, fifteen, sixteen. You know where this house is," Severus said to Malfoy pointedly.

Malfoy nodded and walked to the door to Disapparate again.

"Draco," Severus repeated. Malfoy turned. "You know where this house is."

Understanding his former Head of House's meaning, Malfoy nodded again and walked out the door to Disapparate.

Hermione pulled Severus into her arms. "We've done it—we've found a way to get them out of there that doesn't hurt them or you or put your guardianship in jeopardy!" She huffed small breaths as the enormity of the situation overcame her. "Unless… Malfoy…" She pulled away and looked up at her fiancé. "Oh, God, Severus, what if he gets in trouble for this? What if they lock him up?"

She gulped. "What if he's just sacrificed himself to save them?"

Severus pulled away from her. "That will not happen." He took his coat from the tree in the foyer and went for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To make sure it does not happen."

"How?"

"Trust me."

"Don't do anything too risky! As you said, you could jeopardise your guardianship of them."

"The Princess of Gryffindor is cautioning the Head of Slytherin about the assessment of risk and the need for self-preservation?"

She growled. "Don't you do anything stupid, Severus Snape! We owe him everything but I also won't have you risking everything we've done here."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I will not."

-----

Ermengarde sat up sharply in bed as she saw the two silhouetted figures standing in the doorway. They looked familiar. Too familiar. So familiar that there was no way this could be real and not a dream.

She rubbed her eyes, expecting the silhouettes to disappear. They did not.

As her vision cleared and adjusted to the darkness she called out in a tiny voice for the two people she know couldn't possibly be standing in her room.

"Leo?" She blinked rapidly, her little eyes filling with tears. "Brigita?"

A sob emerged from someone's voice and suddenly all three Rosier siblings clung to each other on the floor in the middle of the dark room. They held each other and sobbed for both the time they'd lost and the relief at finding their way to each other's arms again, the remnants of their family together once more.

Luna stood in the doorway, her blue eyes filled with tears, as Neville stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, watching the reunion.

"I'll let Minerva know," Neville whispered to his girlfriend, kissing her on the temple. "See if I can't head her off."

"Stay with me," Luna whispered, the enormity of the situation hitting her. "Just for a moment."

Neville squeezed her shoulders. "All right," he said.

Luna smiled. "It's going to be okay, Neville," she said. "I can feel it."

------

Severus strode purposefully through the foggy alley with the same sternness and swiftness he had as a teacher.

This would all need to be handled most delicately. This was the golden opportunity he thought he'd never have, and he would be damned if he was going to screw this up. He took a deep breath and collected himself. This wasn't like before. He wasn't messing things up anymore. The younger children were improving every day, the one at Hogwarts hadn't been driven out (though whether he'd be allowed back was yet to be determined, but Severus would worry about that later), he had—gulp—a group of loyal friends for the first time in his life, and he was in a meaningful, reciprocal relationship. He was engaged to be married, for fuck's sake. He had accomplished everything else that had seemed impossible only a year ago.

Who was to say he could not, once again, do that which he had once written off as merely a pipe dream? Who was to say that he could not take a gamble and have it pay off? Who was to say his doubt and fears would continue to control him and his decisions?

Not him. Not anymore. That part of him was dead and gone, irradiated in a bath of soft blue light.

It had been a risk before. It still was a risk. That had never been a lie. Even assuming he could get the girls out of there without anyone noticing, which would have been very, very difficult as the establishment was warded against both Portkeys and Apparition—he had tried both years earlier—to do so without suffering any ramifications would also have been next to impossible. Guards prevented him from simply carrying them out the front door. He would have been risking his job at the orphanage and later would have been risking his guardianship. Both were too precious to treat so cavalierly.

It had taken a lot out of him, to effectively choose one group over another to save. It hadn't been the first time he had had to do so—sacrifice one to save another, knowing he could not save both. He prayed (he never prayed) that he would never have to again.

Draco's ability to Apparate both in and out of the brothel was a boon he had dared not dream of. If Draco could manage to do so without attracting attention, Severus could ensure that Draco could do so safely.

He could kick himself for not seeking the wretched boy out sooner.

------

Harry burst through the floo with crooked glasses, messy hair, and a mis-buttoned shirt stained with baby drool. Hermione had roused him from his sleep with the news.

"He's back? Where?"

"Upstairs, with his sisters."

"Sisters… plural?"

Hermione nodded. Harry shuddered and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, God," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I know."

A loud crack grabbed their attention and they turned to face it, wands drawn at the open front door. Draco Malfoy appeared for the briefest second with a skinny blonde girl on his arm. It was Valentina Rookwood, one of the girls they had seen at the brothel the night of their visit. With a nod, Malfoy ran back out the door and left the girl there, shaking and covering herself up with her arms. She wasn't naked, but was close enough.

"Valentina?" Hermione asked gently, keeping her distance so as not to frighten the girl. "I'm Hermione, do you remember me? We met…" Almost a year ago? "…before. We're friends with Severus Snape, this is his house. You're safe now. You never, ever have to go back there."

The girl collapsed on her knees, sobbing and shaking her head. Of course she didn't remember them. Not only had it been a long time ago, Harry and Hermione had gone in disguise, to protect themselves from discovery. They hadn't used their real names. They hadn't said a word in front of her.

Even if she had recognised them, they were strangers to her. Valentina had been wrenched from her bed by a strange man and taken to a strange location. She didn't know she was safe. She had no reason to believe she was.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both reaching the same conclusion at the same time. Until Severus came back and made the girls realise they were with him in his home, they would have to try to keep them here against their will, and do so without further scaring them or hurting them. They had their work cut out for them tonight.

--------

Severus stood eye-to-eye with the Madam of Knockturn Alley. He had to play it very cool; there were guards he could see, and, more importantly, those he could not see. Fortunately, for him, he had spent many years mastering wandless magic for certain spells. One he had spent a great deal of time on, and had had the greatest use for, was a wandless, nonverbal Confundus charm.

It was more than just a Confundus charm; more like a very targeted form of Legilimency that worked in tandem with Confundo. It wasn't quite Imperio; the Ministry now had the ability to track the use of any and all Unforgiveables, and if Severus attempted it, Aurors would be all over him, and he could kiss his guardianship good-bye. That would be the least of his worries. Rather, it combined the best of both Confundus and Legilimency. Like a Confundo, the target was disorientated and susceptible to the power of suggestion. Combined with Legilimency, which allowed a person access to memories and thoughts and emotions and project false ones at the same time, it threw a person's mind into disarray. The Legilimens then had but a few moments to take advantage of that disorder and realign the memories in such a way that new ideas mixed in with the existing ones.

The mind of a Confunded person was like the contents of a box that had just been shaken—everything rattled and mixed up but quickly fell back into place. A Legilimens with enough skill could insert false memories into that jumble and, in the short time they were falling back into place, could ensure the false memories fell in such a way as to convince the subject that the memories were real. Doing so quickly, whilst the subject was still under the effect of Confundo but before the subject's head had cleared, would ensure that the mind did not reject the memories as false, but rather accept them as true.

A good wizard could do it in such a way that the person felt only a minor disorientation. A good Legilimens could do it with the person experiencing only a slight headache.

A Legilimens of Severus's calibre, however, could do so without any detection by the subject whatsoever.

It had worked on Mundungus Fletcher all those years ago, when he'd needed to Confund him in a crowded Muggle tavern without drawing attention to himself. He had done so wandlessly, and it had saved Harry's life, as well as the lives of nearly everyone else on that mission, save its leader. It would surely work on Madam Lyudmila. It would have to. Failure was not an option tonight.

The stakes felt just as high as it had that night with Mundungus.

He had discovered through trial and error that the mind was far more susceptible to the persuasion when planting false memories of past events, rather than ideas for future actions. Planting ideas had worked on a weak-minded man like Mundungus Fletcher, but would likely not work on Lyudmila.

If it worked, Lyudmila would believe she'd already let the girls go. The ruse would be complete if the girls were already gone by the time it was finished. She would simply tell the guards that. They wouldn't question her. They never questioned her. People like that never did.

If he could convince Lyudmila that she had already decided to let the girls go, whilst Draco actually got them out of there, they just might get away with this. The girls would be out of there, and Draco would be safe from retribution.

A fortnight ago he would not have risked it, not attempted it. But now, after seeing Leopold fly all the way to London to rescue Brigita, after Apparating all the way to Australia on the basis of a translucent blue light and the whispered echo of his name from his lover's lips, after he had literally flown back to London from Sydney on his own power, after the voice that had tormented him for most of his life had been excised from his head… he decided it was worth the risk. All the others he had taken today had paid off.

He bore his black eyes into hers as he leaned across the counter while she stared back at him with a vacant expression and dumb grin. If he drew his wand, the guards would be all over him. He might be chatting her up or even flirting with her. He had done in the past. It would not attract any attention.

He hoped.

-----

"No man is a failure who has friends," is the angel Clarence's advice to George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life. I think it's a lesson Severus has had to learn in this story: no man is an island, and working together is more successful than working alone. Hope it's sunk in.

When Severus Confunds Mundungus in The Princes Tale, he does not appear to be using his wand. I took that and ran with it.

Chapter title is a continuation of the lyric from Into the Woods that gave us our title for the last chapter: "Night is getting dimmer/I think I see a glimmer..."

Coming up: Will Severus's plan work on Lyudmila's sharp mind? And what of Draco?

Happy New Year to everyone! Catch you in 2012.