IX: Poison Running Through My Veins

Chapter IX: Poison Running Through My Veins

The Slytherin common room was all but deserted when Morgana returned. Her House mates were obviously still at the Quidditch pitch watching the Slytherin team showing of their new brooms which – even this year – had been sponsored by the Malfoys. And Morgana was glad that no-one had stayed behind. She neither had the desire nor the energy to confront her House mates tonight.

They had, of course, wanted her to come down to the Quidditch pitch, too. And when she had said that she was too tired, they had at once concluded that she was going to meet Charis. And two seconds later, the standard name calling and teasing had started. 'Make sure to use a Cleansing Potion before you go to bed. Wouldn't want Mudblood stench all over the dormitory,' Pansy had said, and everyone had laughed. And Morgana had just shaken her head and left. She had not been in the mood to pick a fight.

Her House mates had not always disliked the fact that Morgana's best friend was Muggle-born. Actually, the whole thing had first started in her fourth year, the year when the Heir of Slytherin had returned to Hogwarts. That year, right after the attack on Mrs Norris, Draco Malfoy had started to gather like-minded followers, and for the first time in many years, the word Mudblood had fallen in the Slytherin common room. And it had also been the first time that someone in her own House – namely Montague – had tried to forbid Morgana to socialise with Charis. Ha, as if Morgana would let anyone forbid her anything! She had stood tall and told Montague right in the face that she preferred Charis' company to his any day because Charis actually had enough brains to get dressed by herself in the morning. Montague, of course, had not understood the insult.

During the Triwizard Tournament, when Slytherin House had played host to the Durmstrang students, the word Mudblood had become so common that nobody even reacted anymore. Well, almost nobody. There were, of course, Slytherins who weren't purebloods and Slytherins who had friends that weren't purebloods. But those Slytherins soon learnt to keep their mouth shut to stay out of trouble. All but Morgana. She would hex anyone who used that foul word and had made many trips to the hospital wing after having been hit by a hex herself.

But this year, she had learnt that it was wiser to be careful. Ever since the return of the Dark Lord last summer – for that was what he was called in Slytherin House, always the Dark Lord, never He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – the mood in Slytherin House had become more hostile by the day. Muggle-borns were now officially considered filth, and so were the people who associated with them. Some Muggle-born Slytherins had talked to the Headmaster about transferring to another House. Others had not even returned to Hogwarts after the summer. And any Slytherin who had ever had a Muggle-born friend had either turned their back on them or kept their friendship very, very quiet. And although Morgana didn't care about blood status, she, too, had learnt to keep quiet about her friendship to Charis.

Morgana let herself fall onto the leather couch by the fireplace, relishing the quiet that surrounded her. Thank Merlin that the others hadn't returned yet. The last thing she needed was Pansy sniffing at her clothes, telling her that the Mudblood had indeed rubbed her stench off on her.

She rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers. It was only then that she realised that there wasn't an inch in her body that wasn't aching. It was almost the same kind of ache that accompanied high fever. It was dull, affecting every joint. Absentmindedly, Morgana scratched her left palm. It was itching, tingling. And the more she scratched, the more it itched.

'Oh, joy,' she mumbled. 'For the first time in my life somebody sends me flowers, and I turn out to be allergic to them.'

Instinctively, she rubbed her palms together, trying to numb the itch, but it didn't work. On the contrary, it seemed to be spreading. First her wrist started to itch, then her left forearm. For fuck's sake! She scratched herself until her arm was red, until her nails started to tear open the skin. But it didn't help.

Then she realised that it was not her skin that was itching. The tingly sensation came from under her skin, from inside her body. Morgana blinked and shook her head. From inside her body? That was just ridiculous. But still ...

... poison running through my veins ...

The chorus from the Muggle song Charis had played for her started to echo in Morgana's ears, and she started putting two and two together. She had been half-asleep when Poppy had cast a diagnostic spell on her early in the morning, but she had heard the mediwitch and Snape murmuring something about poison. Poppy had told Snape that she hadn't found anything. But did that mean that there truly wasn't anything there?

Morgana felt her hands start to shake. The itching had stopped and been replaced by a burning sensation. It was almost as if there were tiny pieces of glass flowing through her body, threatening to slice open her skin from the inside. And she dug her nails into her flesh, scratched feverishly until she drew blood.

Blood. Morgana stared fascinated at the crimson drops that were forming on her pale skin. The blood seemed to be soothing the pain. Of course. If there was something creeping through her veins, it needed to be let out.

Next thing Morgana knew, she was standing in front of her desk in her dormitory. Her book about Mind Controlling Potions was still lying there, still opened on page three hundred and seventeen. And beside it lay the small bag in which she kept her scales, her basic potion ingredients and her small silver knife.

* * *

Snape was fuming with rage as he swept down the stairs to the dungeons, Charis at his heels. He was furious with himself. How the hell could he have lost control like that? Two days ago, he had had everything under control. He had meant to tease the girl, show her that he knew perfectly well that she lusted for him and that she would never get him. Because it was he who set the rules. But tonight, he had lost control. Merlin's crotch! He had been so aroused that he had almost laid hands on a student! And what was even worse, him letting his cock rule over his brain had delayed him in his search for Morgana. And according to Charis, she was now in danger.

The racket that was coming from the Slytherin common room made Snape run faster. There was a shriek, then agitated voices, many people talking very loudly at the same time. He flew down the corridor like a bat out of hell. It was twenty minutes past curfew, and any unlucky soul who happened to be in his way now would end up with at least three months worth of detention.

He had already thrown open the door to the Slytherin common room and taken a deep breath to yell at whoever was responsible for the commotion when Draco Malfoy bumped into him. The boy was pale like a ghost and had obviously been on his way out.

'Professor Snape,' Draco exclaimed. 'I was about to come and get you! It's Morgana ... in the shower ... Pansy found her ... there's blood everywhere ...'

Snape's eyes darted from the babbling boy to the group of students that stood huddled together at the door that led to the girls' dormitory. They looked just as terrified as Draco sounded. Obviously, the boy wasn't making up a story.

'The nurse,' Snape bellowed. 'Inform the nurse, Draco!'

Then he realised that Charis had caught up with him. 'Go back to Ravenclaw Tower, you silly girl,' he snapped at her. The last thing he needed right now was a Muggle-born in his common room. 'Your kind should not be down here.'

And without waiting to see if she was following his orders, he banged the door shut right in front of Charis' nose.

The group of Slytherins knotted around the stairs parted and granted him access to the girls' dormitory. He reached the bathroom with a few strides and fell dead in his tracks at the door. He had not been prepared for this sight. On the floor cowered Pansy Parkinson, cradling the limp body of Morgana Belakane in her arms. Her friend Astoria Greengrass knelt in front of her, trying to cover Morgana's bleeding arms with towels.

'Out,' Snape growled, still clutching the doorframe. 'Both of you! Out!'

The sound of his own voice made him snap out of his trance-like state. He launched forward, pushed the two girls out of the way and picked up Morgana. He was out of the common room and on his way to the hospital wing in less than thirty seconds.

Carrying that girl to the hospital wing was turning into a bad habit. But last night, she had at least been screaming and struggling. Now she was just lying limp in his arms, and Snape felt panic rise in his chest. He should have been there. He had left Dumbledore's office half an hour ago in order to find her. But he hadn't found her, and instead, he had almost fucked her best friend. And while he had been following his libido, Morgana had hurt herself.

'What have you done, you silly girl?' He wasn't sure if he was whispering to her or if he just heard his own thoughts echo in his ears. All he knew was the he should have been there, that he should have prevented this.

Poppy stood ready when he arrived in the hospital wing. Obviously, Draco had for once in his life obeyed an order and carried it out correctly as well.

Snape laid Morgana down on a bed, and Poppy started to peel off the bath towels Pansy and Astoria had wrapped around their House mate's arms.

'The potion, Severus.' She didn't need to say more. Snape was already at her cabinet to retrieve a bottle of Blood Replenishing Potion.

When he returned to the bed, the mediwitch was already busy charming the cuts on Morgana's arms.

'Do they close, Poppy?' he asked with a hoarse voice. 'Do the wounds close?'

Poppy nodded. 'Yes, Severus, they will close. I cannot guarantee that there won't be scarring. But they will close.'

Snape sighed with relief. For some horrifying moments, he had been afraid that the girl might have used magic. With shaking hands, he started administering the potion.

I should have been there, he thought, berating himself once more for his loss of self-control. I should have kept an eye on her, like I promised Dumbledore.

When the colour started to return to Morgana's cheek, Snape turned to face Poppy. 'The girl needs to be restrained, Poppy. At least until we know what drove her to such a desperate act.'

The mediwitch looked up at him and shook her head. 'I don't think this was a suicide attempt, Severus. Look at the scars.'

Snape frowned. Whatever was the witch talking about? The girl had sliced her arms open. If that was not a suicide attempt, then what was?

'Look,' Poppy explained, pointing out several scars that were already fading into thin white lines. 'None of these cuts are fatal on their own. None of them was aimed at the vein. Those are precise incisions, all the same size, the same space between them. Severus, those cuts almost look ... surgical. As if ... as if she was trying to cut something out.'

Snape swallowed dryly. Was the girl losing her mind? Had the strain of him and Lucius being inside her head at once been too much after all? Had he damaged her?

He cast another glance at her. She was still unconscious, but her cheeks were becoming rosier. Poppy would take care of her. And without another word, Snape turned on his heels and stomped out of the ward. He had to see Dumbledore.

* * *

When Snape arrived at Dumbeldore's office, the Headmaster was already serving herbal tea to Draco, Pansy, Astoria and – to Snape's surprise – Charis. And the alarmed look on Charis' face told him that the girl already knew what had happened.

'Severus?' Dumbledore exclaimed at once. 'What news?'

'Miss Belakane has lost a lot of blood,' Snape reported in a cold tone. He had no intention of letting the students know just how shaken he was. 'She is still unconscious.'

'But alive?'

To that, Snape nodded, noticing for the first time that the front of his robes was covered with blood, Morgana's blood. And the crimson colour made him see red as well.

'I want to know exactly what happened tonight,' he snarled. 'Miss Byrne, you spent the evening with Miss Belakane. What did you do?'

'We ... we danced and had some ice cream and ...' Charis found it hard to concentrate. She was torn between being worried for her best friend and being embarrassed that she – once more – had let Snape get into her knickers. And him staring at her now, cold anger burning in his beetle-black eyes, did not help at all.

'Miss Byrne,' Snape bellowed, and Charis flinched.

'Get yourself together,' he went on. 'What happened in the Room of Requirement? Did anything suggest that Morg... Miss Belakane would commit such an act?'

Charis vehemently shook her head. 'Of course not, sir! Do you really think I would have let her go if I had suspected anything? She was worried, no, confused because her feelings towards ...'

She broke off and cast a furtive glance towards Draco. The little git looked completely unmoved. Did he not realise that his House mate had almost ... The thought made Charis shudder, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

'Professor Snape, Headmaster,' she cried out. 'Morgana is a Slytherin. She is a fighter. She would never ...'

'She did do it, you silly girl,' Snape interrupted her with a voice so cold that Charis lost any control she had tried to maintain.

'No, she would never ... could never ...' Her vision blurred as the tears came running down her face. How could Snape stand there and yell at her? It seemed almost as if he blamed her for having let Morgana return to the dungeons on her own. How could she have known?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and accepted the handkerchief that was put into her hand. When she had dried off her tears, she realised that it was Dumbledore who was comforting her.

'Severus, please,' she heard the Headmaster say. 'There is no need to intimidate the students like that. They have been through enough tonight.'

'They have been through enough tonight? They?' Snape was about to fly off the handle. 'Headmaster, may I remind you that a student of my House is currently lying in the hospital wing, with her wrists slit open, fighting for her life? I demand to know what happened tonight!'

He swirled around to face the three Slytherins. 'Malfoy, Parkinson, Greengrass, your version. And I will not have any more tears!'

'Morgana did not want to come down to the Quidditch pitch with us,' Draco started. 'She wanted to meet the Mud... her Ravenclaw friend instead.' The boy's voice was filled with loathing and disgust, but if anyone – Snape for example – had noticed, they decided that it was not the right moment to address the matter. Charis looked to the floor, fighting back yet more tears.

'When we came back, Astoria and I found her in the bathroom,' Pansy continued. 'She ... she had already done it. I don't get it, sir. Why would she ...?'

Before anyone could answer Pansy's question, Dumbledore had stepped in front of the students. 'That will be all,' he said in a kind yet firm tone. 'I ask you to return promptly to your dormitories. I will instruct the elves to provide you with some Sleeping Draught should you require it.'

The Slytherins immediately bade the Headmaster and their Head of House goodnight and trooped out of the office. Charis, however, stayed behind. 'Please,' she begged. 'Can I see Morgana?'

Snape shook his head. 'Not now, Miss Byrne.'

Charis frowned. Any trace of anger had disappeared from the Potions master's voice. He just sounded tired now. Endlessly tired.

For the second time that evening, Dumbledore put his hand on Charis' shoulder. 'Your friend is being well taken care of, Charis,' he said as he softly pushed her towards the door. 'Let her sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning.'

The moment the door closed behind Charis, Snape collapsed onto the closest chair and buried his face in his hands. He should not have let this happen. He had been supposed to go and find the girl.

'What on earth happened, Severus?' the Headmaster enquired. 'Why would Morgana ...'

'I have no idea.' Snape blinked and sat up straight. 'This is not like her at all.' But then again, not much of what the girl had done over the last forty-eight hours was anything like her.

'No, it is most certainly not like her,' Dumbledore mused, peering at his Potions master over his glasses. 'Morgana is not the type of student to commit such an act on a whim. She is, as her friend pointed out, a fighter. Can this have anything to do with what happened last night, Severus?'

'Last night, the girl was utterly confused, Headmaster,' Snape began, the analytical part of brain taking over. 'Tonight, she had a plan.'

'A plan? Whatever do you mean, Severus?'

'The cuts, Headmaster. Poppy noticed it at once. None of the cuts were aimed at the girl's veins. None of them would have been fatal. And they were made in such a precise manner that they resemble surgical incisions. It almost seems as Miss Belakane was trying to cut something out of her arms.'

This hadn't made sense when Poppy had said it, and it still didn't make sense now. Just what would the girl have tried to cut out? And why?

Once more, Snape brought his hands to his face and inhaled deeply. 'She used her Potions knife, Albus. Her Potions knife.'

'Severus,' Dumbledore said in a commanding tone. 'This was not your fault. You have no reason to feel guilty in any way.'

The hell he hadn't. Snape mentally slapped himself. He had been supposed to go and look for the girl. But he had followed his cock instead and had forgotten all about her for some precious moments.

'Is there any possibility that the girl is still under the influence of Lucius Malfoy?' Dumbledore asked outright. 'Is there any possibility that he still holds on to her mind?'

'Her mind was at peace before I left her last night. Lucius was gone,' Snape explained. 'We would have noticed otherwise. You saw how she reacted to him being in her mind last night. And besides, why would he make her hurt herself? What would he gain from that?'

'I did not say that Lucius made her do this, Severus.'

Snape clenched his fists. Why could that old fool not just say what he – obviously – already knew? Why would he make him guess?

'I believe,' Dumbledore finally went on, 'that the girl was trying to rid herself of whatever had taken possession of her. You said it yourself, Severus. She seemed to have tried to cut something out of her arms.'

'But how? How is he getting into her mind, Albus? Legilimency requires eye contact. In fact, any kind of mind control requires physical proximity. How could Lucius ...?'

'Do you know if Morgana received anything from Lucius tonight?' Dumbledore interrupted him. 'A letter? A gift, perhaps?'

The roses! He had smelled their scent. They had been lying on the very table on which he had planned to take Charis tonight. Long-stemmed, blood-red roses, tied together with a green and silver ribbon. Just the kind of gift Lucius Malfoy would have chosen.

Snape shot off from his chair and told the Headmaster to follow him to the Room of Requirement.

* * *

'Do you think that he used the same trick yesterday?' Dumbledore asked as they had examined the roses. 'Might he have daubed the ring with it, perhaps?'

'This is a possibility, yes,' Snape replied. 'Blackroot is a treacherous plant. It is absorbed by the skin almost immediately and leaves no residue. That would explain why we did not detect it on the ring last night.'

'And when you asked Poppy to check Miss Belakane for poison this morning,' the Headmaster concluded, 'the girl's system had already broken down the poison.'

Severus nodded. At least, now they knew why the girl had been acting so strange. Her desire for Lucius, her sudden fear towards her Head of House, it was all due to this ill-fated plant. Blackroot was commonly used in Dark potions, mind controlling potions, as it had an adverse affect on one's feelings and judgements. Under its influence, one could swear that black was white, and wholeheartedly believe it to be true. Or, Snape thought with disgust, it could even make an orphaned girl fall madly in love with her parents' killer.

'We must keep Lucius from using the plant on the girl,' Snape declared. 'Blackroot, in high doses, is extremely poisonous.' High doses. Snape oppressed as shudder. Hopefully, yesterday had been the first time Lucius had used the plant. Hopefully, today would be the last time.

The Headmaster nodded. 'We might find it difficult to persuade Lucius to stop using the plant. His motives are very clear. As we know from his letter, he is growing frustrated that Miss Belakane keeps turning down his advances. He wants her to change her mind. He wants her to come to him willingly.'

'And he is not going to rest until he gets what he wants,' Snape snarled. 'He never does.' This was one of Lucius Malfoy's greatest talents. He would literally kill anyone who stood in his way to achieving his goals. A true Slytherin, indeed.

Dumbledore crossed the room and gazed out of the window. It was a beautiful night. The moon was almost full, and the stars shone peacefully. Nothing suggested what evil plans were about to unfold.

'If we cannot stop Lucius,' Dumbledore started, 'then we must give him what he desires.'

Snape swirled around to face the old man. He must have misheard. 'I beg your pardon, Headmaster?'

'Morgana, when she is well,' Dumbledore continued, 'must offer herself to Lucius.'

Snape stared at Dumbledore in utter disbelief. Had the old crackpot completely lost it now?

'You said it yourself, Severus,' Dumbledore explained in a calm tone. 'Lucius will not rest until he gets what he wants. And what he wants is the girl's body. He wants her to carry his heir.'

'Headmaster, you cannot seriously be suggesting that we ask Miss Belakane to give herself to Lucius.' Snape was appalled. 'This is prostitution. And it is disgusting!'

'Severus, please. I have only the girl's best interest in mind,' Dumbledore went on, rising his hand to keep Snape from interrupting him. 'Morgana will offer herself to Lucius, but he will not take her. Because you will be there to ensure that he does not touch her.'

'Me?' Now Snape was certain that Dumbledore had lost his marbles. 'And how, Headmaster, am I supposed to do that? Shall I tell him that I would like to watch?'

Dumbledore chuckled, and Snape contemplated throwing a good hex at him and then owling the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's so they would come and take that lunatic away.

'Dear Severus, for being a spy, you lack imagination. Use your wand, dear boy. A Disillusionment Charm, an Invisibility Cloak. I don't care how you do it. But you will be there, and whether you have to stun, maim or damage Malfoy, you will stop him!'

Snape felt his mouth go dry. 'There must be another way. You cannot seriously expect me to watch Lucius seduce Miss Belakane and then step in at the very last moment to keep him from committing the act?'

'I am afraid that this is exactly what I am asking of you, Severus,' Dumbledore said gravely. 'And there is no other way.'

'And how, pray, are you planning to make the girl agree to that?'

'We will not have to make her agree to anything,' Dumbledore explained. Obviously, he had already thought everything through. 'The Blackroot seems to have served its purpose well. According to her friend, Miss Belakane believes herself seriously smitten with Lucius Malfoy. Now we just have to wait until she runs into his open arms. And when she does, you will be there to protect her, Severus.'

'I cannot watch the girl twenty-four hours a day, Albus,' Snape exclaimed. By Merlin, he had not even managed to keep an eye on her tonight! 'How am I to know when she decides to run into Lucius' open arms as you put it so nicely?'

'Now, to that problem, Severus, a certain Ravenclaw has already found a solution.'