Wrong Turn

Severus Snape spent the first fifteen minutes after the unicorn's departure convincing himself how relieving it was to have the bothersome beast gone. After the first ten minutes of his tirade, he conceded that he didn't sound sincere even to himself. He'd always been a loner, even before his career of espionage made it a necessity, and there were few people, indeed, that he called friend. Despite infinitely preferring his own company, years of teaching at Hogwarts had left him painfully used to the bustle of teachers and students. Even alone, with his private quarters under a silencing spell, he could feel the magical presence of wizards around him--seeping through the very stones of his dungeons. Suddenly, the man who prided himself on self-reliance felt uncharacteristically distressed at finding himself completely and utterly on his own. It was enough to make him wish for the unicorn's return in spite of his previous disparaging remarks.

He spent the next ten minutes sulking.

Finally, with a last glare at the trees through which the unicorn had departed, he decided to do something about his lack of clothing--or try, at least. Severus Snape was actually rather skilled at wandless magic--however, there's good reason why even those skilled in the art preferred the focusing power of a wand, unless desperate. Wandless magic was fairly good for basic defense and rudimentary attacks. While lacking the force of a spell channeled though a wand, it could be quite adequate in a pinch. For any other use, wandless magic was, at best, erratic--and, at worst, hopelessly unpredictable. One could attempt to conjure a sandwich and end up exploding every glass object within thirty paces. Transfiguration was never Severus' best subject, and that brand of magic was, in general, not a willing partner to wandless magic. Nonetheless, Severus was determined to try, rather than to go voluntarily parading through an unknown forest absolutely starkers.

Thirty minutes passage found Severus equally naked, exhausted, and furious. The utmost effort and concentration had rewarded him with nothing but a pounding headache and a clearing that had burst into bloom with orange, thimble-shaped flowers. Lying back on the grass, he vented his ire by methodically plucking and crushing any oddly shaped flora unlucky enough to be within easy reach. He had destroyed quite an impressive circle of them when the unicorn suddenly returned.

Severus was torn between his present state of frustration and a relief he did not want to acknowledge at having any companion in his misery. He settled for muttering, "Well, that took you long enough," in a tone vastly different from his usual mockery. Had anyone of his acquaintance heard him, they'd likely faint from shock.

The unicorn tried its best to whinny around the branch gripped in its teeth, smaller stems and leaves dragging in the animal's wake. The branch was laden with apples, and Severus found his unsuccessful garment-creating efforts had left him famished. Apples wouldn't have been his first choice, but he wasn't going to look a gift horned-horse in the mouth. He ate the first three cores and all. He then ate three more, tossing the cores to the unicorn, who crunched them delightedly as if Snape-spit-covered apple cores were his chosen form of ambrosia.

Sated for the time being, Severus stripped the remaining eight apples from the bedraggled branch, set them in a pile, and considered how to carry them. He sighed, stood, and regarded the apples intensely. Raising a hand, he intoned gravely, "Wingardium Leviosion Subsequorine." For once, the correct--if a bit ridiculous--effect he strove for was achieved. The apples obediently rose into the air and floated around to stop directly behind him. They would follow there until he released them. Severus strode once around the clearing to assure the spell had not gone amiss.

They made an interesting parade. Tall, naked wizard, a string of eight floating apples, and a prancing, nickering unicorn. "If Albus could see this he'd laugh himself into a hernia," Severus muttered morosely. Halting the parade, he turned his eyes to the unicorn. "As I seem to be stuck with you, I suppose I ought to call you something."

The unicorn gazed at him expectantly.

"What elegant appellation could possibly do justice to your graceful form, your evanescent eyes, your incessant snickering? I fear it's a Herculean task. Yet--wait! Perhaps it isn't hopeless. I shall name you...Bob," he finished with a smirk, arching his brow as if daring the unicorn to argue.

Other than a toss of the head and a gleeful snort, Bob did not deign to reply.

**********************************

Albus had exhausted every avenue imaginable to find his errant Potions Master and friend--even so far as to venture into Trelawney's lair, hoping against hope that the bangled seer might make the third honest prediction of her life. He had given up in impatient disgust when, in a wispy and trembling voice, Sybil began her usual litany of doom and gloom. He had taken to making frequent trips from the desk in his office to the grandfather clock in his sitting room just to check on Severus' clock hand. Its firm position in the middle of "Lost" was oddly comforting. The next time his pacing found him before the clock, he was disconcerted to see the hand in slow movement. Watching intently until it stopped its journey at "In Danger," Albus' head dropped and a trembling hand passed over his eyes.

***********************************

Dinner in the Great Hall proved to be a trying ordeal for Hermione. Ron was huffy and distant, which he demonstrated with complete lack of grace by talking loudly to everyone in the vicinity except her. At this point, she was rather relieved he wasn't speaking to her, but his constant shouting was very distracting. Harry was a calming presence at her side; he ate while chatting to her of inconsequential things. He didn't bring up their earlier discussion (for which she was grateful), but whenever he caught her gazing sadly at the empty seat at the Head table, Harry took a moment to pat her arm or give her hand a surreptitious squeeze under the table. Her eyes went again and again to where the professors sat, and not only to the empty chair. Watching the remainder of the staff told its own story. Headmaster Dumbledore was obviously trying to keep up cheerful small talk, but his eyes were lackluster; he looked far closer to his actual age than ever before. Madame Hooch, usually sitting at Snape's right, stared at her plate unseeingly as she picked at her food. Each time she glanced at the empty chair beside her, she sighed. Hagrid was putting on a brave front, but every so often his napkin would wander up to his eyes rather than his mouth. Suddenly, he turned to the others as if relating a story. Hermione couldn't make out much of it, but she caught the words "remember" and "unicorns." The other professors chuckled halfheartedly, until Professor McGonagall burst into tears and dashed from the room. Hermione couldn't bear another moment. With a quick goodbye to Harry, she fled the hall herself with the invisibility cloak tucked in her bag. Once she reached the restricted section, she found the tomes she required and settled into a secluded corner, preparing for a long night.

**************************************

Severus had no idea where he was or which way home lay, but if he was ever to make progress, he had to start moving. A glance at the sky told him there was not much daylight left. The night would be cold; if he kept moving he might stay warmer. It would be dark beneath the trees, but stubborn man he was, he decided to creep about in the dark rather than wait in this clearing another moment. It was obvious that his fellow wizards had not been able to locate him; otherwise, they would have arrived already. He chose his path by starting to walk in the direction he happened to be facing. His bad luck was still dogging his heels--he was facing due north: directly away from Hogwarts. Bob apparently thought, at first, they were going to parade around the clearing again and was all for it. As Severus approached the dark line of trees, Bob's puppy-like demeanor abruptly became fierce and determined as a basilisk. Leaping between Severus and the trees, he stood with lowered horn at his companion's chest--eyes white with rage, he stomped his hooves and hissed.

"What in the name of Hypolytus has gotten into you?" Snape sputtered in outrage. Never at his best and brightest when angry, Severus swiftly dodged the seemingly mad creature and continued into the wood, where (bad luck continuing to hold true) he ran straight into what Bob was trying to warn him about.

There were three of them. Looking like gnarled little men with bulging eyes, sharp teeth, and noses that put even Snape's to shame, they wore scruffy leather pants and tabards, had wicked-looking rusted daggers hung from their belts, and leaned on long handled, ax-headed pikes. Everything about them looked brown and dingy, except for their hats, which had the unpleasant color of dried blood--in fact, that was exactly what covered them. The ancient British wizards had named them, in their usual descriptive (if unimaginative) way, "Redcaps." Now, three Redcaps, though nasty enough, were considered no match for a seasoned and wanded wizard. To Severus, they were a danger he would rather not have stumbled into. Reacting instinctively, power flowed from wizard and the Redcaps were tossed away, knocked off their feet. This did not especially injure them, but gave Severus time to plan his next attack, and Bob time to recover from his surprise and jump to his friend's defense. Leaping cleanly over Severus' head, almost brushing the tree branches above, Bob entered the fray with the blood-curdling scream of a wild stallion protecting his own. Facing two Redcaps that had landed close together, the unicorn impaled one as it scrambled to its feet. He chased after the second as it turned to flee, screaming in terror; which left only one for Severus to deal with. Gathering his force, he stilled his mind, raised his right arm, the palm of his hand facing his adversary.

"Appello Adustum!" His baritone voice rang out in the forest strong and clear. White hot fire shot from his palm, striking the remaining Redcap, setting it instantly aflame. It turned and fled, shrieking. Severus did not think it would get far. Spinning around as he heard a noise to his left, he saw only Bob returning, horn and hooves dripping in gore. Severus checked Bob for injuries, but it seemed two Redcaps were no match for one furious unicorn. Severus finished his examination and patted the sleek, white-furred flank affectionately.

"Sorry my friend," he said tiredly. "I suppose it was inevitable that you eventually find out what a cantankerous git I am." He walked back to the edge of the clearing, looking at the sky. Light was fading fast. He'd made not one iota of progress getting home, but he was now exhausted by his expenditures of magic energy. "I think, Bob, that I can manage a few more hours in this damned glade before I go mad. Let's get some sleep, and tomorrow I hope I have the good sense to let you lead." Bob followed him to the middle of the tiny clearing, nibbling affectionately at the ends of the Potion Master's unruly hair. Severus lowered himself wearily to the ground and curled up on his side, the apples, following like obedient dogs, plunked into the grass behind him. Bob took a moment to scent the evening breeze, turning his head to take in all directions. Satisfied, he lay down next to Severus. A long pale arm, dusted with downy black hair, flung itself over the unicorn's shoulders as Severus nestled gratefully into the beast's warmth. Bob bent his head to mouth gently at the long fingers wound in his fur.

"G'night, Bob." Severus slept.

Bob relaxed but did not sleep. All through the long chilly night he kept a quiet vigil over his sleeping friend.

*************************************

In Dumbledore's chambers, a clock hand moved slowly from "In Danger," to "Asleep."