As the World Falls Down

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter et al, and I don't profit from them.

Chapter 9 – As the World Falls Down

"Draco, are you there?" Hermione called from the parlor fireplace of Spinner's End. She hoped he would answer soon, for her carefully coiffed hair would not last long in the Floo before it started to frizz. She had spent a few extra minutes on it this morning, knowing that she would be spending the day with Severus closeted in his laboratory. Her hair serum could withstand steam, dry heat, and most fumes, but Floo magic was murder. She had also taken great care on her attire: her forest green blouse was clingy, yet sophisticated, bringing out flecks of green in her eyes, and her black slacks were well tailored to her figure. A thin silver belt wrapped around her waist. She hoped her statement wasn't too obvious.

Harrumphing in irritation, she stepped into the parlor. Draco should be expecting her; she was punctual for the appointment that they had set up yesterday. Unless... Had Severus had a relapse?

Anxiety gripped her with cold fists as she strode toward the closed kitchen door. "Draco!" she shouted, her voice strained to her own ears. Attempting to modulate her tone to something more like professional concern, she called, "Is Severus alright?"

Shooting a quick glance over her shoulder at the bookcase that hid the stairs as she contemplated whether she'd rather just head straight upstairs, she missed seeing the kitchen door swing open. Her right hand grabbed for the doorknob from memory, her focus still on the bookcase. It wasn't until her hand wrapped around something soft, yet weighty – not a doorknob at all – that she realized that she was no long facing a door. Startled, she swung her head around to meet the gray eyes of an equally startled Draco.

"Gah!" she yelped, snatching her hand away as if it had been burned and taking a hurried step backward.

"That isn't the usual reception it gets," he drawled, his surprise rapidly evaporating into amusement.

"Merlin, Draco, I'm so sorry!" Hermione gasped as she placed the hand that cupped him on her chest and took several quick breaths. Her face felt aflame, and she couldn't quite remember the last time she had done something quite so embarrassing.

Stepping backward into the kitchen and welcoming her in with a courtly half-bow, Draco leered at her. "No, by all means, consider yourself welcome to that part of my anatomy. I have several others that you would find of interest, as well."

"I didn't mean to do that. I was just..." Walking into the kitchen, Hermione halted her explanation when her eyes rested on Severus sitting at the table, a cup of tea in hand and black eyes glittering unfathomably at her.

'Oh, bloody hell,' she cursed silently. That was not the impression that she had wanted to make this morning.

Draco continued as if she had not just stopped in her tracks to gape at his godfather. "In fact, I think I quite like your new method of greeting," he said and tweaked her bottom. The pinch shocked Hermione out of her trance, and she emitted a strangled gasp, whirling on him. Draco had already glided away and slid elegantly into his chair, smirking up at her.

At that moment, Hermione realized that she had several avenues of reaction open to her. She could smack Draco silly and storm out of the house – satisfying, but unproductive, and more than a little unfair, even if her own groping had been accidental. She could dissolve into a puddle of mortification, reminding the man on which she had set her sights that she had once been one of his awkward students. Or she could pretend that the last few minutes had never happened and move on with business in the hopes that they would be forgotten amongst the truly important matters at hand. It had been an accident – surely Severus had seen that. If she were truly going for a man's bits, she certainly wouldn't apologize for it.

After vividly imagining her handprint red and swollen across Draco's face, she schooled her features into nonchalance and smoothed her hands down her pants. There was little she could do about her flush, but if she pretended very hard, perhaps that would be forgotten as well.

Easing into her seat, she pulled several leaves of parchment from her bag and cleared her throat. Glancing up, she caught Draco's mischievous gaze and stared coolly back.

"You have nice arse," Draco said conversationally as he propped his chin in his hand.

He just wouldn't let it go. Smiling sweetly, Hermione kicked his shin under the table. Hard. "Thank you."

As Draco mouthed the word, 'ow!' and blinked tears from his eyes, Hermione turned her attention to Severus. His black eyes darted from Draco to her, then to the parchment. His upper lip curling into a sneer, he sat back in his chair and sipped at his tea, eyeing her with supreme distaste.

"I trust you are feeling better?" she asked politely. He looked better; his skin was a healthy olive, his eyes were clear of fever, and his hair was freshly washed and tied back. Even dressed casually in a gray tee shirt and dark denim, he had a commanding presence. 'I'm good,' she thought with pride. 'In a matter of days, I brought him back from the brink of madness to make a full recovery.'

"Passable," he said finally, his tone implying that he had been better only moments before, when something had intruded on his well being.

Choosing to ignore his truculence, Hermione slid the parchment toward him and tapped it with one finger. "This," she said compellingly as she met his gaze directly, "is the formula for the cure for the Rash." He made no sign of acknowledgement, simply sipped his tea and glared. Refusing to take his bait, Hermione continued, "You can attest to its effectiveness." At that reminder, Severus' right eyelid twitched.

"It works well for tractable patients who stay in bed to be nursed." Hermione smiled at him, a woman's smile of shared secrets that she had found to both intrigue and unnerve men. Severus stared at her impassively. "However, we need a stronger dose that we can administer to a patient that is much more inclined to tear off one's arms." She caught a small flicker in those black depths; did he remember attacking Draco? "I've jotted down my thoughts on increasing its potency and nebulizing it into a gas to be inhaled by an infected person."

"I hardly see why you need me," Severus said quietly, his eyes narrowing.

Draco sighed heavily from the other side of the table. "Don't be dense, Uncle, you..."

"Silence, you ungrateful whelp," he hissed, and Draco shut his mouth with a snap. Hermione wanted to shrink away from the venom in his voice, but she held her position and schooled her features to mild amusement in order to appear that it had not affected her.

"Master Snape," Hermione said as she leaned forward, again catching those dark eyes with her own. "I know that you are under contract only to brew those potions for which I have finalized recipes. I also know that you don't want to be involved with this crisis and that you gave more than you owed in the last one. However," she reached across the table and lightly touched the back of his hand with her fingertips, "I need your expertise on this to create a cure for those infected as you were, but without your fortitude."

It was more or less the truth; his help would certainly speed up the process of producing the nebulized form of the cure. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have considered inviting another person to share in her experimentation. The professional wizarding world was barbaric, and many a naïve wizard had found himself cheated out of a patent by an unscrupulous partner. She considered Severus an honorable man, however, and above stealing ideas. It had also occurred to her that he would take to research and development as her partner better than simply mass brewing one of her patents as a supplier. She just hoped she wasn't laying on the compliments too thickly. Most men loved to be flattered and made to feel invaluable, but this was Severus Snape, and he was not most men, hence part of the attraction.

He slid his hand away slowly as he stared at her, his eyes glittering blackly under a thick fringe of lashes. Hermione considered it a victory that he didn't knock it away, but wished that he hadn't moved or that he'd turned his hand so that she could curl her fingers into his palm...

"You are correct; I don't want to be involved," he said, settling back into his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Draco made a noise of protest, and Severus cut him off with a wave of his hand. "However, new information has come to light."

"It seems that one of the Dark Lord's little side projects has gotten loose and is responsible for our current situation," Draco said with a humorless smirk.

"How do you know?" she asked a trifle suspiciously. He seemed to have come by this tidbit of information rather quickly, and she wondered about his sources. Then again, he had friends and family in low places.

With a small grimace, Draco admitted, "My father worked on it before the Dark Lord's defeat." Hermione only nodded, not wanting to come across as judgmental and stymie the flow of information. With a sigh, Draco recapped his conversation with his father, and Hermione listened in silence, growing more nervous as his story unwound.

When Draco had finished speaking, Hermione asked, "He says that Voldemort didn't donate a bit of himself for the project, but what if he did some of his own experimentation on the side without your father knowing?" Both men had flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, and she sighed inwardly. It had taken her a number of months after the Dark wizard had died to be able to say the name without hesitation. She wasn't going to backslide, not even for Severus. Draco was watching his godfather guardedly, his posture tense.

After a long moment of silence, during which Hermione braced herself for a tongue-lashing, Severus broke the silence.

"It is a possibility," he said almost grudgingly as he traced his lips with a fingertip. Her speculation of the other day had been correct: the movement did look better on Severus than it did on Draco, and it was dead sexy. Hermione caught herself staring and immediately swung her gaze back to her tea, missing a curious flash in her subject's eyes. "The Dark Lord kept much of his own council, often leaving his followers in the dark. However, it is mere conjecture at this point."

"But we do think that there might be some sort of central figure, correct?" Hermione confirmed, firmly ordering her thoughts to stay on topic.

Draco shrugged carelessly. "That's how the mushrooms in their original form seemed to work. Father was in the process of altering them so that the Dark Lord could acquire a new body."

"Hm, direct possession of one and enthrallment of many..."

"Hermione, are you alright?" Draco asked as her sentence trailed into silence.

The blood had rushed from her face so quickly that it had left her feeling light-headed. Bonelessly, she slumped backward in her chair and stared at Draco in horror. "Ginny," she whispered, then swallowed noisily, pulling herself together. "Ginny has been missing for several days," she said, forcing her voice to be clear and forceful. "Harry swears that she has been kidnapped, but I was sure that there was another explanation..."

"Always about Potter," Severus muttered irritably from the other side of the table.

Rising from his chair, Draco acquired another mug from a cupboard and set it in front of Hermione, pouring her a hot cup of tea from the pot on the table. She thanked him as he sat back down, blowing across the surface of the liquid and watching the steam dissipate as her mind whirled.

"There probably still is," Draco said as he topped off his own cup. When Hermione looked at him blankly, he elaborated, "Another explanation, that is. After all, the Dark Lord hasn't been resurrected again. This particular project had nothing to do with Potter. It was another means for him to achieve immortality, but he never got a chance to try it."

"So, hypothetically," she said slowly as she leaned back in her chair and began to nibble her bottom lip. Maintaining eye contact with Draco was far less distracting than gazing at Severus, so she directed her stream of consciousness at the blond. "If Voldemort had dabbled with your father's experiment, what would be the possible results? A strain of mushrooms that infects people with essence of Dark Lord? None of the patients I have attended have shown signs of possession. Madness, yes."

"Are you alright, Uncle?" Draco inquired suddenly, startling Hermione out of her train of thought. Glancing over at the dark man, she realized that he had paled to the color of snow, and the skin around his eyes was strained.

Swearing under her breath, Hermione connected the dots between Severus' own brush with the Rash and her musing. He had said that it had felt as if Voldemort had somehow invaded his body. It could easily be attributed the high concentration of Dark Magic, which is what she had done at the time, but now she wasn't quite so sure.

"I'm fine," Severus snapped as he stood abruptly. His thigh caught the edge of the table causing it to shake and the tea to slosh over the rims of their mugs. Without another word, he stalked out of the kitchen toward the parlor. They heard the creak of the bookcase hinges a moment later and then the quiet click as it latched back in place.

Sighing, Hermione exchanged a concerned look with Draco. It surprised her that they were friendly enough to share something like that, but at that moment, she refused to dwell on it. She would have liked to follow Severus to make certain that he was all right, but she had a feeling that her presence would not be welcome.

Draco continued their conversation with a slight roll of his eyes. Knowing that it was simply his way to play off his concerns during serious situations, Hermione focused on what he was saying instead of the man surely brooding upstairs. "It makes sense that there is some sort of ringleader: one that instigated this whole affair... or, if the Dark Lord really did some dabbling on his own, one that was created as a result of the Dark Lord's essence possessing some poor sod," Draco finished with a delicate shudder.

"A new Dark Lord," Hermione said quietly.

"Merlin help us. Let's just hope that he doesn't have such a wicked tattoo to attract the younger crowd," Draco said with a sudden grin. Hermione kicked him under the table again.

"Honestly, Draco, that isn't funny! The Dark Mark was neither cool nor..."

The kitchen window exploded with a deafening crash, spraying them both with shards of glass, and a brick hit the kitchen wall. Instinctively, they both ducked, diving underneath the table as they pulled their wands out of hiding.

"Protego!" Draco shouted, only a hair faster than Hermione with his wand. From behind the blue domed barrier, there was little she could do but watch the next brick come careening through the broken kitchen window to land on the table with a splintering thud.

Flinching, Hermione held her wand at the ready and whispered, "How sturdy is this table?" Draco just shrugged as he held the barrier steady against the attack. Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question when the sound of shattering glass erupted from the porch.

"They are destroying the atrium!" Draco exclaimed under his breath, his gray eyes wide with shock. "Oh, is Severus going to be pissed! Though how they got by his wards is anyone's guess."

"Who are they?" Hermione hissed the question into his ear, wincing as another brick rebounded off Draco's shield. "What did you do, Draco?"

"What did I do? What makes you think they're here for me? Uncle Sev is the unpleasant..."

Something shattered against the kitchen door that led to the atrium, and a dull whoosh was scant warning for the fire that began to lick at the small portal window set high in the door. Hermione and Draco jumped, Draco smacking the top of his head against the underside of the table. Cursing, he lost the barrier, but Hermione cast another just as his flickered and died.

"Did he cast protection spells against bricks and Molotov Cocktails?" she hissed snidely as several more bricks flew through the window. Belatedly, her own question startled her: these were Muggle weapons being used against a wizard's house! Few magical folk thought in terms of physical attack; therefore few defended themselves against it. Even Severus, paranoid old man that he was, must have discounted a Muggle method of attack because the bulk of his enemies were Voldemort-supporting purebloods. None of them would have considered Muggle means.

'Besides,' she thought with an eerily calm detachment amongst the chaos in the kitchen, 'why would they choose now to start trouble? One would expect them to be cowering in their mansions...' When the identity of their attackers occurred to her, she slapped her free palm to her sweaty forehead.

"Of course," she muttered and earned a sideways look from Draco. "The thralls." She gestured to the back door with a nod of her head.

Smirking, Draco said, "You're only figuring that out now?" Before she could snap at him, he ducked around the barrier to aim an Aguamenti at the smoke that was beginning to seep through the seams between the door and frame. He had only just managed to cast the spell when two bottles trailing flaming tails sailed through the empty kitchen window.

"Reducto!" Draco shouted, his spell catching both bottles at once. Instead of being reduced to dust, they exploded into balls of fire, raining the kitchen with tiny fiery comets. The simple curtains framing the window lit up and began to writhe as creeping tongues of flame devoured them.

Hermione screamed and strengthened her force field, extending it to encompass the table with a mental push. Cursing loudly, Draco thrust his wand out of its protection to spray the kitchen with a heavy mist. "We have to get out of here!"

Four more bottles and a bevy of bricks flew through the window and struck the door. The air became thick with smoke, ash and water vapor, and Hermione's eyes stung and streamed as she struggled to recast the barrier through her coughing. Crouched by her side, Draco wrapped a long-fingered hand around her arm and tensed to flee at the first opening. The kitchen chairs were now burning, and it felt as if the small hairs on Hermione's face and hands were curling in the heat.

The moment seemed to come when the barrage of projectiles lulled. Without warning, Draco darted for the parlor door, dragging a startled Hermione behind him. The open doorway was barely visible through the smoke, and she had to trust him that he was leading her to safety instead of an unpleasant fiery doom. Over the roar of the flames, she heard the pounding of footsteps on the hidden stairwell, and the slam of the bookcase hitting one of its mates.

"What in blazes..." Severus's roar was cut off as the whole house shook around them. Draco caught himself on the doorjamb, and his wide eyes met Hermione's frightened gaze.

"That would be the wards going down," he said much too calmly for the situation. An instant later, a flood of red light blew the kitchen door inward, tearing it from its hinges. Heedless of the flames that were destroying the once cheerful little kitchen, several figures lurched through the door. Smoke and ash obscured their countenances, but their eyes gleamed unnaturally red, piercing through the haze like spotlights. Leveling her wand, Hermione started to cast a Stunner when Draco wrenched her around by her arm and pushed her into the parlor. Stumbling with the momentum, she was saved a fall to the carpet by strong arms catching her under her armpits. She latched on to the support, only barely registering the strong bare forearms under her fingers as she coughed and wheezed through the burning in her throat and lungs.

'Smoke inhalation,' she diagnosed absently as she struggled to draw a decent breath. 'Draco too... What do I have for smoke inhalation...' She glanced up at her savior. Severus stared down at her, raking her form with a startling intensity, his eyes sharp with concern. His face was closer to hers than it had ever been, and his lips were parted slightly, showing a glimpse of crooked white teeth beyond. Somehow managing to escape its ribbon, his long black hair hung loose over his shoulders. As her chest heaved with the effort to breathe, Hermione was forcibly reminded of the cover of one of Ginny's romance novels, except that the heroines were rarely covered in soot.

Reality forced its way through her distraction when the large parlor window shattered, and the heavy velvet drapes concealing it transfigured into a swarm of giant bats. The tiny room was caught in a maelstrom of leathery wings and sharp claws as the creatures fluttered about chaotically. Hermione pressed closer to Severus and was gratified to feel one of his arms wrap around her shoulders as he used the other to cast a Finite Incantatem. Once the curtains lay crumpled on the floor and the air was clear of bats, it was apparent that the bats had only served as a distraction. The bookcases lining the walls of the parlor were aflame.

"There's too many of them, and I can't put out the flames!" Draco shouted as he abandoned his efforts in the kitchen, emerging from a pall of smoke like a wild-eyed ghost. He was gray with ash from his toes to the tips of his hair. Glancing around, he cursed.

From under Severus' arm, Hermione aimed an Augamenti at the base of the nearest flames. Even as Draco and Severus followed her lead, five more Molotov Cocktails smashed against the bookcases, and the dusty dry tomes caught fire like kindling. It was readily apparent that no amount of spell work would save them. In a matter of minutes, they would be burned alive.

Severus seemed to be on the same wavelength. "We can't stay here!" he said, his quiet controlled voice like a splash of cool water in the heat and chaos of the room.

Hermione needed no more prompting to act. Grabbing Draco's arm with one hand and wrapping her other arm around Severus' waist, she focused on a mental image of her flat. "Clear your minds, I'm Apparating us!"

"Where?" Draco inquired just as all three of them were squeezed through an infinitely tiny hole in space. A moment later, they were standing in her kitchen.

A cool breeze wafted through the window and sunlight sparkled off the chrome faucet. The quiet was deafening after the roar of the fire, and clean, oxygenated air rushed into her lungs, sending her into another coughing fit. Next to her, Draco wheezed and sputtered, bracing himself by slipping an arm around her waist and leaning onto her shoulder. She almost toppled over when Severus stepped away from her, smoothing his clothing as if to remove any trace of her touch. His face was set in deep, angry lines and his movements, usually smooth and graceful, were jerky and abrupt.

"Oh, Severus..." Hermione said, belatedly realizing that they had just abandoned his house to the fire and vandalism of the creatures. He gave her a hard look and moved as if to stalk away, but then paused as he glanced around himself. Hermione watched him sadly as a lost look flickered briefly across his face, gone as soon as she had seen it. He ignored them both as he turned on his heel and strode through the kitchen to the glass door that opened onto her balcony. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared out at the street below.

Hermione sighed. She had wanted to take Severus home with her, but not like this, and Draco hadn't been part of the deal. "Get off, Draco," she complained as she nudged him away. At his protest, she said, "You're covered in ash. Go take a shower."

Shooting her a sooty smirk, he said, "Shall I find the towels on my own?"

"There are clean ones in the bathroom. First door on the right. Go." She gave him small push toward the short hallway that led to the guest bathroom.

"Scrub my back?" he called wickedly over his shoulder as he opened the bathroom door.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, catching a quick glimpse of Severus watching their interaction. As soon as she had turned toward him, he was once again facing the street, for all appearances absorbed with the tableau below. 'Interesting,' she thought to herself. 'Could he be...? No, he didn't seem upset by my accidental fondling of his godson. No more upset than usual, anyway.'

Tiptoeing across her carpet, careful to not drop any ash in her living room, she joined him at the glass door to stare out at the street lit with cheerful yellow sunshine. A bicyclist whizzed by, hopping the curb onto the sidewalk and causing a startled pedestrian to drop an armload of groceries. Remorseless, the bicyclist pedaled furiously forward, narrowly missed the pedestrian in his rush.

"I'm so sorry about your house," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "And all your things..."

"The most important of my belongings are protected with fire-retardant spells," he snapped. "I'll retrieve them when it is safe to do so."

"Draco and I will be happy to help."

"Well, well. Speaking for him, are you?" Severus eyed her coldly, and Hermione took an involuntary step backward. Was he jealous? Or he didn't like the idea of her getting close to Draco? She had had many boyfriends since he had begun to photograph her, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him, let alone heard a protest. Perhaps he was simply being his unpleasant self. She made a mental note to pay close attention to his reactions when she was with Draco. He might just inadvertently give her the key to getting close to him.

"He's your godson," she pointed out. "Of course he'll help. Some of that stuff was his."

"You always did have a talent for stating the obvious," he sneered at her.

Hermione had to take a deep breath and remind herself that the man had just recovered from a Dark Magic-induced illness and had his house burnt down. She would not smack him. In fact, she should expect more of the same if she truly intended to pursue this particular individual.

Bolstering herself with happy thoughts of a future in which he used that sharp tongue for better purposes, she gave him a saucy grin and quipped, "Then you admit that I've got talent." He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could say anything else nasty. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She winked slowly, conspiratorially, and hoped that he realized that she was flirting with him. "You're welcome to the shower after Draco has finished."

Deciding to retreat while she was still ahead, Hermione left him by the window and padded through her bedroom to her sumptuous master bath. It hadn't existed when she had leased the apartment; ambiguously legal and without the knowledge or blessing of the Ministry, she had magically expanded her tiny bedroom closet to a walk-through closest leading to a granite and marble-tiled slice of heaven. Her tub was more than large enough for two and had several rows of Jacuzzi jets, and the shower could convert to a steam sauna when she was so inclined. This bathroom had been the first example of magic that had truly impressed her usually stoic mother. A week after installing her bathroom, she had found herself at her parents' home in Australia working on one for them, too.

Sighing and resting her forehead against the cold cream-colored marble that lined the walls, Hermione had never been so glad that her parents had decided to move permanently. They were safe from this madness – much safer than the rest of her loved ones.

"Honestly, Harry! Don't be ridiculous!" Ms. Granger's voice, strident with exasperation, carried through the bathroom door to where Severus was towel-drying his hair. He allowed himself a small smile at the other man's expense. His smile dissolved as his eyes came to rest on the set of sweats lying folded on top of the toilet. The bottoms were his, borrowed by Ms. Granger – probably the only other pair of pants that he now owned. The top could not have originally belonged to Ms. Granger, though he wasn't sure which was worse: if it was a cast off of Potter or Weasley, or if it had once belonged to one of her former beaus.

The rest of the bathroom was nicely appointed: spotless, uncluttered, and decorated in neutral beiges and creams. When he had renovated Spinner's End, he had chosen white because it had been the simplest color to choose. Spinner's End...

Severus reeled slightly as the shock struck him once again. His home had been destroyed. His gardens, his atrium, everything had been burned. True, there were certain items that would be salvageable, but for all intents and purposes, he was homeless. He would have to begin his life from scratch. Again.

"It's the safest thing for all of us! I can't believe that you are being so... pig-headed about this!" Another snatch of the Floo call interrupted his thoughts, and he folded the towel neatly, hanging it on the towel bar.

To make matters worse, he was at the questionable mercy of a woman for whom he had harbored a secret obsession since her seventh year in school; a woman who had piqued his interest at the tender age of fifteen (and didn't that make him feel dirty); a woman who his godson seemed hell-bent on conquering. He had kept his distance from this very same woman for years, and she wasn't in his presence for more than a couple of days before she was put in danger. He wasn't quite sure how much of this he could stand.

"You have plenty of extra bedrooms. I bet you haven't even opened the ones on the third floor in years!"

Severus froze with one leg partially inserted into the sweat pants. She couldn't be arguing for what he thought she was, could she?

"Thank you, Harry," she said in a softer tone. "We'll be there later this evening."

'Damn and blast,' Severus swore silently. Perhaps he should have just stayed at Spinner's End and let the fire take him. The last place he wanted to be was back at Grimmauld Place. It held too many memories, and none of them good.

"I must admit that I didn't think you could convince him." Draco's voice spoke up. The Floo call must have ended, Severus mused. With a start, he wondered what Draco was wearing. He hadn't seen the boy leave the bathroom before he entered. How much men's clothing did Ms. Granger have? The thought bothered him more than it should have. He also didn't like the thought of them alone together. Draco was pursuing her; he had no doubt about it.

'But will she succumb?' he wondered. Draco could be very charismatic when he put his mind to it, and he had the intelligence and drive to keep up with a firebrand like her. Though it seemed that Draco still had a chase ahead of him, Ms. Granger was not immune to the boy's charm. She was resisting, true, and he had a deep-seated suspicion that she had flirted with himself several times. Even knowing what he did, Draco would have no compunction against stealing the woman right from under his overlarge nose.

'Not that I've made any claim,' Severus thought morosely. He had never wanted to make such a claim and had done everything within his power to avoid this kind of situation. But the memory of her in his arms for those short moments, her strong hands clinging to him for support and safety, her ashy face so close that had he simply leaned forward...

Severus shook his head. Best not think about that. Best not to touch her again. It would be so easy to drown in her. He could still feel that brief innocent touch in the fibers of his being. It had been the least of her touches, but the only one given since he had risen from his recovery.

'A foot massage,' he thought with a tiny shiver, remembering her skillful fingers kneading his arch as he lay in bed, still delirious with fever and cure. It had been heavenly, and her offer had been more tempting than she could know. Down that road lay folly, he was certain. She hadn't been in his life for more than a couple of days before she had been caught in a house fire – his house.

Where was he to go? He sighed and sat on the closed lid of the toilet, letting his hands drop into his lap. He wouldn't miss Spinner's End – the house, anyway. His atrium, Lily's flowers... He sighed again as his eyes to prickle with a familiar sting. He would have to start over, find a new place. The idea was a heavy weight in his chest; he had had to rebuild so many times. When would he be left in peace?

Laughter resonated from behind the door; Draco's deep chuckle mixing with the clear honest tones of Ms. Granger to create an incongruously cheerful sound that grated on his nerves. The longer he stayed in the bathroom, the more time his ungrateful godson would have to wile his way into Ms. Granger's heart. He shouldn't interfere; he never had before. He was unwilling to risk Ms. Granger's safety by wooing her himself. The honorable thing to do would be to let nature take its course, and if that meant allowing Draco and Ms. Granger to form a romantic attachment, then so be it.

The question was: could he survive their relationship?

A/N: Thanks to ann1982 for all of her corrections and comments! The title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name written by David Bowie from the Labyrinth soundtrack.