And Counting || Silvanna Snape

Chapter Twelve

MINCHUM OUT OF OFFICE AS BAGNOLD PROMISES NEW ERA

In a statement released this morning, Millicent Bagnold is set to replace Harold Minchum as early as today, after eleven members of the Wizengamot expressed their distaste for Minchum's recent policies, as well as lack of results in recent times.

A strong starter with his strict Azkaban enforcement at the start of his term, Minchum has overseen the last five years of the war. But with constant Death Eater advances and upwards of twenty disappearences each day, it seems this is no longer the case.

Millicent Bagnold promised in a statement that this was a new era for Wizarding Britain. "Strict security measures will make our lives harder in the foreseeable future," she wrote, "but we will reap the rewards of our efforts. I promise your Ministry will become ruthlessly secure. Your safety is in our hands, and I will act as such."

Albus Dumbledore had declined to comment.

More on page five.

 Silvanna put the newspaper down onto the scrubbed wooden table, staring out the window into the gardens. It was raining today, and her view was obstructed by smeared droplets on the panes. That was the third or fourth Minister since the war had begun. Four Ministers and yet she was still here, in a house that didn't belong to her, alone. All alone.

 But she didn't have the time to wallow. She gulped down the remainder of her tea, scaulding her throat as she did, but she was too impatient to pause, let alone to care. Upstairs she went, all the way to the top, to the attic room that held the office. She called it the office, because it had been Regulus, and she wasn't so grand that she would take it from him.

 She waved her wand as she perched at the desk, and with two clicks the inkwell unscrewed and the drawer unlocked. Time to work before she made an obligatory stop at Whitechapel.

 She'd been gathering information for a long time, years now; but so caught up in the panic and - well, she wouldn't call it a thrill, it wasn't that - she'd never thought to write it down. Not until she'd seen the memories and everything had seemed so obvious. When she relayed all the information to Marlene she'd listened and barely had to question it, so clear was the tale. So didligently she recorded, every encounter she could remember, every one she'd had.

 They were taking it slower these days. Solo outings to the Lestranges, listening to Bellatrix talk about how dreadful her house elves were, or her thoughts on the new Minister for Magic's robe choices, or how awful her mother's gossiping habit was, all while they walked through the gardens and Silvanna gazed off into the rose bushes that lined their path.

 Narcissa had taken to holding tea parties where Silvanna was the only half-blood present; or when she went to buy stationery or books, Colette would mention that she had to go as well, and drop hints about how she felt about the Muggle-borns doing their shopping for the new school year.

 They thought they were being cunning Slytherins, that she had no idea what they were attempting. A naive widow, a bored Gryffindor, a traitor to all the things she once stood for. But talented, passionate, and most of all, lonely. They were pulling her in, winding the rope tighter until she was in their arms, believing in them, fighting for them.

 Or so they thought.

 It made her smile as she stared at the canopy of her bed each night. How far she'd come, how well she'd done. Her sadness for Regulus was gone, replaced by the relief that she hadn't had to do it herself.

 It wasn't until October that her smugness faded away, when she realised she was not in fact one step ahead, but ten steps behind.

 Silvanna was sat in the small living room, a record playing, a book in her lap, a mug of tea by her side (she'd decided she didn't like the fine china sets she'd received for her wedding presents). The fire flickered before her, glowing amber and spitting onto the stone before it. She took no notice when it flared up and died down. Which was why it took her so long to realise one of her trees was on fire.

 She flew out the back door, wand raised at the cloaked figure at its base, who was swishing their wand through the air, causing more branches to catch and crumble into ash. Curling flames rose from the tip, cutting through the air and caressing the tree.

 Silvanna shot water at it, helping somewhat as it sizzled and died, but all that happened was it continued to burn, and the figure whirled round in their blinding fury.

 'Marlene!' she cried, knowing no one was around to hear them, 'What the fuck?'

 'You betrayed us!' And now Marlene disarmed her. It was pointless really, when her shock had already rendered her useless.

 She dodged more hexes as she went up to her, grabbing her wrist to stop her firing anymore. It occured to her at this point that Marlene could've hurt her if she wanted to, but was clearly just distraught. And also that it was raining, rather heavily.

 'Don't be fucking ridiculous.'

 She began to cry, her hand going limp in hers, her chin and lips bubbling. 'They're dead, they're dead.'

 'Who?' she demanded, grabbing her shoulders tightly in hasty panic, 'who's dead?'

 'The Prewetts,' Marlene sobbed, 'the Bones. Benjy Fenwick-!' She waited for more names but Marlene had broken into hysterical sobs, nodding her head forward and allowing Silvanna to wrap her arms round her. She watched the tree burn, the light splashing in the reflections of her eyes. Was it bad that she was relieved it was no one she was close to? Was it awful that despite all these deaths, a part of her still held out that she was still useful, even now?

 Half an hour later, showered and cradling mugs of hot chocolate, they sat on the living room floor, leaning against each other and staring into the fire.

 'If it isn't you it's Remus,' Marlene whispered.

 'Remus? But he's been with the werewolves.' She had been worried at first, but routinely reminded herself that Marlene worried about her in much the same way.

 Marlene only nodded at first, sipping her drink. 'The Bones went first, kids and all,' she began, 'and of course we were sad, but this is what happens in war. And then they blew up Benjy, and then the Prewett brothers were attatcked. They sent their patronus to Molly, but we were too late. It all happened so quickly - we - we didn't want to believe it but there's a spy. And everyone thinks its Remus, but of course no one's said anything. And I didn't think - but I know it must be him. It's just-'

 'You thought it was me.' She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice, despite the circumstances, and she found herself tensing where she brushed against Marlene.

 'Yes,' she confessed. 'I thought you might have used me.'

 'That's not me.'

'You used Regulus Black,' she said, turning her chin to look at her, 'didn't you?'

 'Yes, I did.' Her mouth was suddenly dry. 'But it isn't Remus.'

 'He's been with the werewolves for months now Silvanna,' Marlene reasoned, 'What if he's found his people?'

 'We're his people,' she pressed.

 'You were,' Marlene countered, softness in her voice, 'and you're gone now.'