Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: In which Severus Snape and Harry Potter act like heroes.

The last straggling students had returned to Hogwarts under Mr. Filch's and Mrs. Norris' watchful eyes. Yet the caretaker and his familiar waited on the broad steps to the school's entrance as Minerva McGonagall had not yet returned. Night advanced swiftly in February, and the temperature had dropped, winter's hand clenching the highlands of Scotland tightly within its fist.

Filch peered into the gloaming, and his scowl became more pronounced. Then he nodded to his cat. "Best go get Professor Snape, my pretty. He'll be annoyed if she returns and I've disturbed him without reason, but I reckon he'd be a sight more angry if she was hurt and we hadn't bothered him."

His familiar stropped her tail against his legs as she trotted into the castle and the nearest set of stairs.

Filch's anxiety had risen several notches by the time Mrs. Norris returned with Snape in tow.

"What is the trouble, Mr. Filch?"

"Minerva," the caretaker said succinctly. "She hasn't come back from Hogsmeade."

Snape didn't bother with useless questions such as whether all the students were accounted for, because Filch would have already checked before summoning him. "Inform Flitwick," he said, and then waved the wand he'd been holding to summon his heavy cloak, even as he hurried down the steps and onto the gravel-lined path demarked by dirty snow banked along its edge.

He heard his cloak whooshing through the air before it arrived, and he draped its comforting thickness around his shoulders as he lengthened his stride, uneasiness speeding his progress. It had been three or four years since the last retaliatory attack against a member of the Order of the Phoenix for its overthrow of Lord Voldemort's short reign. It was possible, however unlikely, that McGonagall had been waylaid by someone with revenge on their mind.

"Lumen Agito," he muttered, snapping his wrist. A ball of yellow flame shot from the end of his wand and sped several lengths ahead of him, lighting his way.

When he reached the site of Hagrid's cottage, his standard memory of fleeing Hogwarts the night he'd killed Dumbledore was offset by his more recent memory of bantering with Hermione Granger, yet both of those were overridden by his concern for McGonagall. If she had been abducted his speed would be of no help, but if some other trouble had befallen her, then speed was of the essence.

"Finite Incantatem!" The golden ball of flame was snuffed.

Snape worked his way to the back of the hut, where he was safely obscured from the path, and then he slipped his wand into his sleeve. Concentrating as the witch he sought had so patiently taught him during those long months of seclusion eight years before, Snape initiated his transformation to his alter ego. His skin itched as feathers sprouted and his eyesight improved dramatically.

The three minutes he lost were more than negated by his Animagus' mobility and speed. He hopped clear of the hut's awning and leaped upward, the downstroke of his wings powerful and effective. With two beats he had risen above the cottage, and in another moment, Snape had caught an updraft to speed his ascent.

He reached the gates within seconds, but there was no sign of Minerva McGonagall and he knew his enhanced eyesight hadn't missed her.

She was not to be found along the road to the village either, and when Snape circled The Three Broomsticks his heart pounded with anxiety. He took a different route on his return to the castle, passing over the Shrieking Shack for the first time since his return to Scotland. Fate was a quixotic bitch, he thought, when he noticed the figure of a witch slumped against the fence leading to the dilapidated building.

He swooped, transfiguring even as he landed so that he hit the ground running on human legs rather than avian claws. "Minerva!" he barked.

A slender hand patted her hair in place, and she turned toward Snape, her expression difficult to discern. "Severus?" she asked in a small voice.

"What has happened?" He reached her side, alarmed. She was trembling and practically blue with cold. "Are you injured?"

"I'm – I'm not certain exactly." She took a step toward him and stumbled, but Snape caught her before she could fall. Gritting his teeth against the cold, he shed his heavy winter cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. Then he pulled his wand.

"Confringo!" he shouted, and the gate shattered.

Snape led McGonagall to the building, kicking through the snow and keeping her on her feet. He would far rather appear naked in the Great Hall than enter the Shrieking Shack, but his friend needed immediate help. He didn't bother with Alohomora, nonverbally blasting the door off its hinges, as he assisted her up the steps and into the place of nightmare.

Fortunately, the shack had been cleaned in the intervening years, but crossing its threshold caused Snape's stomach to clench and he swallowed convulsively.

"Why are we here, Severus?" McGonagall sounded more like herself, but it was clear that she had been Confunded in some way.

"I need to know what has happened to you, Minerva, and you were on the verge of hypothermia."

Spotting the crate he had once hidden behind, Snape waved his wand and Summoned it to his side. He helped McGonagall to sit, and then, cast a simple diagnostic spell over her to determine whether she was injured in any other way.

While she tried to gather her scattered wits, he Accio'd the splintered wood from the door, and then laid it on the bare stone in the large, but unused fireplace. Murmuring, "Incendio! he ignited the wood, feeding it magically, until it burned hot.

Coaxing McGonagall closer, he then held out his hands to warm himself. His fingers were chilled to the bone.

"It's the oddest thing," she said, hesitantly, as if grasping at a distant strand of memory. "Septima Vector met me outside Scrivenshaft's and then she brought me here."

"She brought you here?" he asked sharply.

McGonagall blinked. "Give me a moment, Severus. If I hadn't learned better, I would say she hit me with an Imperius, but I can fight that."

"Bugger!" he swore. Bits and pieces of information melded in the cauldron of his mind, transmuting into certainty. "She fascinated you."

"Sorry?" Firelight reflected off the square lenses of her glasses, and Snape couldn't see her eyes behind them, but he heard the sharpening of her acuity.

"She's my stalker."

"Fuck me!" McGonagall swore reverently. Under other circumstances Snape would have twitted her about it.

"And you've just provided the final piece of evidence to confirm that she is also a Sanguinarian, possibly a common, or garden variety, vampire."

McGonagall's eyes grew wide, and her hands began to shake again.

"What did she want, Minerva?" Snape could see her struggle against the magical compulsion which had been laid upon her. "Will you permit me to look?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered, squaring her chin and opening her eyes wide.

In spite of the situation, Snape smiled at her faith in him, and then with a twitch of his wand, he slipped into her mind. After three minutes, he whispered, "Hermione."

"What?" McGonagall asked, sounding more like herself than at any time since he had found her. "What did you see?"

He added more wood to the fire, and carefully did not allow his trepidation to leach into his tone. "You gave Vector Hermione Granger's address."

Her brow furrowed. "But why would she coerce the information from me?"

"Would you have told her otherwise?"

With each passing second, as McGonagall's mind cast off the residual effects of the fascination, her expression cleared from her befuddled state. "She did ask, and I offered to accompany her to London as soon as all the students were safely back at school."

He shook his head. "Then why didn't she wait for you?"

"I haven't the faintest. I remember telling her how pleased I am that Hermione's joining the staff next year, and..."

Snape's spine snapped to rigid attention, and he demanded, "Repeat that!"

"I'm pleased Hermione will be teaching ...." McGonagall trailed off, her fingers covering her mouth in distress. "Great Merlin! It's just as Harry said. Severus, we must warn Hermione."

He gritted his teeth. "Indeed. Do you still have your wand?"

"Yes," she responded automatically, patting her robes, "No! That Pettigrewish bitch took it! I'll claw her eyes out!" McGonagall was so angry she practically spat the words from her mouth like a hissing cat.

"We haven't time for this," he snarled. "Can you tell me when Vector left?"

"I hurried Edgecombe, Dawlish and their little clique – she's a rather nasty sort, isn't she? – out of Honeydukes, and they were the last. I made a final circuit of the shops and that's when I met Vector. It was almost completely dark – you don't think she intends to hurt Hermione, do you?"

"Each escalation of tributes has occurred after I've been seen in Hermione's company."

McGonagall leapt to her feet. "What are we waiting for, man? Let us away ..."

Snape didn't move from in front of the fire, but his expression was one his enemies had learned to fear. "You have no wand."

"Damn her to the Veil!" she snapped. "Then you go and I'll summon help." She grabbed his arm suddenly. "Severus, we can't call the Aurors. You could lose your position."

He stalked to the doorway. "Bugger the job!"

Handing him his winter cloak, Minerva hurried back into the large room, saying over her shoulder, "I'll send Filius to you, and we'll send a Patronus to Potter."

"How will you get back?"

Pointing to the hole in the wall near the floor, she said, "This way is quickest." Snape shuddered, remembering the tunnel was where the trio of former students had watched Nagini attack him. "Isn't it blocked?"

"Not to an Animagus. Now go, Severus, and I'll send you back-up."

"I don't know where she lives." He draped the heavy wool around his shoulders as McGonagall gave him the information he needed.

Before Snape could fasten his cloak's clasp, she transformed into her cat self. "Be careful," he warned as she bounded into the crawl space. Then he doused the flames before storming from the house, sprinting through the Anti-Apparition shield placed there by Magical Law Enforcement after the final battle.

CRACK!

He landed in a small entrance hall, welcomed by a cry of, "Hermione?" which preceded the form of Harry Potter, grim expression and drawn wand, into Snape's line of sight.

"Snape?" Harry spluttered.

"She's not here?" He spared no time for inanities.

"No." The Auror ran his hand through his shaggy hair anxiously. "I got a Patronus."

"Thank you, Minerva," Snape said fervently.

"Minerva? No. Hermione sent one telling me Vector was at the door. I had James with me at Fortescue's and I couldn't just bring a toddler into – I've only just arrived."

Harry strode into the cozy lounge, and Snape took in his surroundings at a glance: tall bookcases against pale blue walls, a comfortable sofa, and worn leather chair. His eyes lit on the mug of cocoa set on the otherwise empty coffee table. Despite his worry, he could easily imagine Hermione sitting there composing her nightly messages to him.

"Doesn't she do her work here?" he asked abruptly.

Harry halted in the doorway leading to the kitchen and spun on his heel. Unerringly, his eyes focused on Hermione's denuded table. "I won't ask how you know that, but this is not good." The muscles in his jaw bunched and flexed; his intense gaze shifted to Snape. "How did you know she was in trouble?"

Snape stood next to the coffee table, his answer crisp and impatient. "Vector waylaid Minerva in Hogsmeade and coerced her into giving up Hermione's address."

"Bugger!" Harry squared his shoulders. "We need to know where we stand, and how much Vector knows. Hermione's makeshift lab is in the kitchen. I'll look there, but you look in here for any sign of her notes." He waved his hand at the bookshelves while he entered the kitchen. "The edges of the scrolls are tinted dark green in your honor."

Briefly, Snape stared after The Boy Who Lived Twice. This was the third time Snape had seen the younger man shed his public persona in favor of the competent Auror. It was more impressive than he would've liked to admit. There was, however, no time to dawdle over epiphanies, no matter how small, and Snape moved around the coffee table, dipping his index finger in Hermione's abandoned mug. The cocoa was cool, but not cold, and from his many years of brewing potions, taking into account the thickness of the receptacle, and the likelihood that she preferred to drink it hot but not scalding, Snape estimated that no more than twenty minutes had passed since she'd put it down.

"Her work is here, Professor," Harry called from the kitchen.

Snape took a step before inadvertently kicking something with the toe of his boot. The slender wood made no noise until it clattered on the hardwood floor beyond the thick rug. Snape scooped it up with a free hand. "Potter!" he shouted. "She's unarmed!"

"What?" Harry re-entered the lounge fast. Bottle green eyes lit on the vinewood wand in Snape's hands, and they glittered with triumph. "That's my swot," he cooed.

"Pardon?"

"Turn it around," Harry commanded.

To his own surprise, Snape complied instantly.

Harry pointed to the base of the handle, where a slender band of silver appeared to be embedded in the wand itself. Harry tapped the precious metal with the tip of his wand; instantly the silver emitted a shiny glow which pulsed rhythmically. "Tracing Charm. It's a prototype, but Hermione's on very good terms with several Unspeakables. This tracks her physiological responses; as you can see by the pulses, her heartbeat is quite fast at the moment. Fear but no outright panic. With due precautions, we can initiate the link between wand and witch, and be at her side in a moment."

"Disillusionment?" Snape asked.

"Invisibility."

"Unless you know a spell I don't, Potter."

"My cloak, Snape. It's infallible, except when the sun's at your back." When Snape snorted, Harry narrowed his eyes. "It isn't common knowledge, outside Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron, but my cloak..." he pulled it from the pocket of his trousers, just as he had all those years ago when he and Hermione had returned to the Shack to retrieve their dead professor, "...is one of the three Deathly Hallows, and it's foolproof."

Snape stared at the shimmering, magical cloth. "Yet another piece of information which could have proven useful had Dumbledore shared it."

Harry snorted. "Don't get me started."

Despite the circumstances, a smile tugged at the corners of Snape's mouth. "I suspect we might have a decent conversation one of these days, Potter."

"Agreed." Harry balanced his weight onto the balls of his feet. "Let's go."

"One moment," Snape said. "If we're correct, if, as I believe, Vector fascinated Minerva and has abducted Hermione, then Vector's our Sanguinarian, and she'll be able to smell our presence." He tapped Harry on the tip of the nose with his ebony wand and said, "Mascherare," before casting the same spell on himself. "It will mask our scent for a time."

"Good." Harry stepped close to Snape and covered them both with his cloak. "I'll lead the Side-Along if you don't mind. You arrived like a herd of erumpents."

"I was in a hurry."

Harry's eyes under the Invisibility Cloak were hard to distinguish, and Snape shifted uncomfortably the younger man's scrutiny.

"She cares about you, too," Harry said before returning to the point at hand. "We've developed a silent Apparition, so I can guarantee to land us in her proximity without notice, however, if you're willing to risk it ...."

"No. You lead," Snape said. "Christ! I never thought I'd say that."

Harry snorted. "Me, either, and I don't promise not to remind you of that fact. Ready?"

"Five minutes ago, Potter. Just do it."

As good as his word, Harry and Snape Disapparated without a sound, not even the swish of invisible fabric as it fluttered in the displaced air.

Fortunately for them, they landed in deep, dry sand rather than on the rocky shoreline dimly illuminated by light reflecting off the nearby body of water. The sound of surf and the tang of salt air confirmed that it was the sea rather than a large lake, but Snape had no idea where they were. When it started to rain, he ground his teeth.

Next to him, Harry had gone rigid.

A short distance away, at the edge of the tide line, Septima Vector kicked her victim in the ribs. Hermione, stunned, lay face up on the sand. Even from this distance the men could tell her eyes were open, the whites shone in the moonlit dark, but neither Snape nor Harry could tell if she was cognizant of her surroundings.

"Months of work, Miss Granger," Vector ranted. Her usually cultured voice was harsh with passion and carried easily to the two men. "Months of carefully calculated courtship ruined by you. I have waited a long time to find a mate. Centuries to be precise, and you will not be allowed to interfere any longer." She drew a long wand and circled Hermione, kicking her viciously in the thigh. "You're not even worth biting."

When moonlight shone on the polished wand in her hand, Snape grunted. Then he hissed into Harry's ear, "It's not hers. She stole Minerva's."

To Snape's gratified surprise, Harry didn't waste a second grandstanding. He threw off the cloak, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" as he ran toward Vector.

Concurrently, Snape bellowed, "Stupefy!"

Vector's reflexes were remarkable. Return hexfire sheared perilously close to the wizard's heads before harmlessly veering out over the ocean as McGonagall's wand flew straight into an oncoming wave and the headmistress of Hogwarts toppled face down onto the sand.

The wizards covered the distance separating them from Vector and Hermione rapidly. With unspoken accord, Harry veered off to check Vector's incapacity and Snape ran to Hermione. Snape knelt at her side, pulling her torso into his arms and holding her tightly, unable to explain or deny his need to do so.

Hermione coughed, pressing against her side with one hand, and clutching at his robes with the other. Her breath was ragged with pain and relief, and when he loosened his grip on her, she stared deeply into his eyes. Then Snape brushed her brow with his lips, and she found her voice. "Severus?" she asked in an identical tone to the one he'd heard not an hour before from Minerva McGonagall.

"Vector abducted you," he replied, laying her back on the sandy beach, but leaning over her to keep some of the rain off her face. "Be still, Hermione."

"It's cold," she complained, and for the second time that night, Snape removed his cloak to cover a recovering woman. Gently, he tucked the wool around Hermione's shoulders. She stared at his hands while her mind struggled to slice through the layers of cotton wool Vector had wrapped around it.

"Fuck!" They heard Harry shout followed by an unearthly screech.

Snape leapt to his feet, pointing his wand in the direction of the altercation; in the poor light it was only clear that one participant had been subdued. Snape sprinted in their direction, and at that moment, moonlight shone through the downpour, shining off Vector's fangs. It was she who had prevailed.

Hermione screamed, "Harry!"

In triumph, the strigoi bent her head to rend her prey.

Snape jabbed and hooked his wand, and Vector's rage could be heard above the pounding surf as she was hoisted into the air as a result of the spell created by a lovelorn sixteen-year old. She screamed with impotent fury, but her words were muffled by the heavy robes hanging around her face.

Harry regained his feet by the time Snape reached him, one hand clutching his neck.

"Are you bit?" Snape never took his eyes from Vector's suspended form. He knew she could defeat his spell in short order, and he whipped his wand, silently casting Incarcerous! as he had done long ago when he'd thought Sirius Black was a mass murderer.

"Just a scratch," Harry replied, wiping the blood from his throat, and ignoring the trickle which continued to leak from the small cut Vector had made with her fangs. "Bugger, but she's strong. The bitch was waiting for me!" He pulled Hermione's wand from his pocket, and Summoned his own from the nearby sand. It had been buried during the scuffle. When he had his own wand in hand, Harry cast three sets of Auror-strength restraints on the woman hanging upside down. "I realize it's rude to keep her in such a state." Harry glanced apologetically at Snape, remembering another time.

"You're counting on her clothing to slow her down if she breaks through the restraints." Remarkably, Snape had no empathy for Vector's plight, or the fact her undergarments were on display.

Harry nodded, and together the two men lowered Hogwarts' headmistress to the sand. Then, Harry petrified her again and Snape reinforced the bindings before he stunned her for good measure.

"The only other vampire I've ever encountered was Sanguini," Harry said. "I had no idea they were so strong."

"They're inhuman," Snape said drolly, and Harry snorted.

"Harry?" Hermione called. "Severus?" She had managed to cover half the distance to them.

"I'll be right there, 'Mione!" Harry called, checking Vector's bindings.

Snape stalked to where Hermione lay in the wet sand, her hair plastered to her head and her clothes a wet, sandy mess. She had lost his cloak in her struggle to reach them. "I thought I told you to be still?" His words might have been harsh, but the delivery was anything but.

Hermione panted, but she managed to speak. "I wanted to help."

He dropped to one knee, and brushed the sand from her face. "If you will cooperate, I'll make you fresh chocolate when we return to your home."

"All right," she said and remained still while he cast several diagnostic charms over her, but her eyes blinked rapidly as if doing so would help her regain her mental acuity. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Was Harry hurt?"

In the background, they heard Harry shout, "Accio Minerva's wand!"

"He has a scratch, but Vector didn't harm him otherwise." Snape's long fingers followed the fault lines of the diagnostic spell he had cast, smoothing over Hermione's soaking wet cardigan to ascertain the location of her wounds. "I am quite well, and you are the most serious casualty. You have two broken ribs on this side," he said, "and three cracked on the other. It's fortunate your lungs weren't punctured. It was foolish for you to move."

"But ..." Her hand wrapped around his wrist.

His voice deepened. "And it was sheer folly for me to have lifted you before."

"But I liked it," she replied, and then, "It hurts to breathe."

"Disapparation will be painful, but if you'll permit me, I'll take you to St. Mungo's."

"No, you can't!" Hermione cried out and gasped in pain; she pressed a hand against her side and whimpered.

Harry slid on his knees next to her, his distress painfully evident. "If we go to St. Mungo's, the information will be public knowledge."

Snape raised his head and met Harry's look directly. "While I appreciate your concern on my behalf, Miss Granger's injuries must be mended. You take her, Potter, and I'll deliver Vector to the Ministry."

"No!" Hermione tightened her grip on Snape. Her face was stark white and her eyes were huge, but she was lucid. "Not St. Mungo's.

"You're injured," he argued.

"Take me home," Hermione said, taking sips of breath in order not to disturb her ribs, "and call Molly. She can patch me up and we can decide what to do with Vector then."

"No."

Harry cocked his head at Snape's peremptory manner, but said, "Pomfrey then."

Snape glowered, but his hands were gentle as he settled his nonverbally summoned cloak around Hermione once more. "You will have to ask her," he said, looking at Harry. "She does not speak to me."

"Stupid cow!" Hermione's disparagement ended on a pained sigh, but then she inhaled shallowly. "I can always go to a Muggle hospital –"

"Or I can sneak into Hogwarts' infirmary and steal some Skele-gro," Harry affably suggested.

"Feeling nostalgic, are you, Potter?"

Harry chuckled. "Relieved, actually. Considering the potential for violence and bloodshed, we have been extraordinarily lucky."

"About time," Hermione said, and then lapsed into silence; talking took too much of her air supply.

Harry said, "Let's get moving. I'm soaking wet, Hermione's drenched and needs to get dry and patched up, and we have to decide what to do about Vector."

"Where are we going?" Snape asked.

"Hermione's flat," Harry replied decisively. "I'll bring Vector and then I'll go to Hogwarts and either fetch Pomfrey or the Skele-gro. I'm sure Hermione has a book or two with medical treatments if we need to resort to healing her ourselves. It won't be the first time."

Hermione smiled wanly and began to shiver, which caused her ribs to hurt. When she moaned, Snape whispered a spell over her, "Nox," and she instantly fell asleep.

"What the hell?" Harry gripped Snape's wand arm.

"I have to move her, Potter! Would you rather she pass out from the pain or already be unaware when I cause her agony?"

"Oh, right. Go to it then. I'll bring Vector." He patted Hermione's arm before he got to his feet and strode to the incarcerated Sanguinarian's side, kicking sand in his wake. "Petrificus Totalus! Mobilicorpus!"

Within two minutes, the beach was deserted.

When they arrived at Hermione's flat, things were in an uproar. Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and Ron Weasley were arguing heatedly over what they should do next, and every few seconds, Flitwick would stretch and release his braces, adding a loud SNAP! to the cacophony. The noise was so loud none of the three heard Snape's arrival. Within seconds, however, he had been spotted and the others fell silent for the length of one, long indrawn breath.

"Oh, thank Circe!" McGonagall cried out.

Her exclamation was drowned out by Ron's fearful cry. "Hermione!" It had taken him a second to recognize that it was Hermione's head lolling against Snape's arm. Her hair, a wet, bedraggled mess, draped over her rescuer's arm and hung almost to his knees.

When Ron would have snatched Hermione from Snape, the dark-haired wizard snarled, "Don't touch her, Weasley!"

Ron recoiled as if he'd been jinxed, but then leaned forward belligerently. "Why not?"

"She's injured." Snape swept past the younger man, sneering disdainfully at the redhead's inappropriately lavish clothing. He carried Hermione into her bedroom – Ron hard on his heels – and laid her atop the leaf-patterned duvet. "Minerva!"

"Yes, Severus?" She entered the room right behind Ron. "How can I help?"

"We have to get her out of these clothes, but she has broken and cracked ribs, and it will hurt if we wait until she's awake. Potter should be arriving momentarily with Vector."

"Vector?" Ron sounded befuddled.

Snape exulted in the proof that Harry and Hermione had protected his secrets so well, but he ignored the other man and spoke directly to McGonagall. "She's been incapacitated, and we'll have to talk to her."

"But what about Hermione?" Ron asked. "We have to get her to St. Mungo's!"

Nothing else had roused her, but Hermione woke enough to mumble, "No, Ron. It would hurt Severus."

Snape's cheeks heated as the other man stared at him with blatant suspicion. "What does she mean?" Ron asked.

Before Snape could answer, Poppy Pomfrey bustled into the room, carrying a basket of medical potions and paraphernalia. "I came as soon as Filius..." She halted abruptly when she saw Snape.

"I'll leave," he said stiffly.

Her eyes darted around the room, lighting on Ron, McGonagall, and Hermione before they returned to Snape. "No, it's all right. I'll want to take a look at you and Mr. Potter when I'm finished with Miss Granger. For now, I only need Minerva." When the men didn't move quickly enough to suit her, she gestured with her hands. "Out. Now. Shoo! Shoo!"

"Yes, Poppy," Snape replied, surprisingly meek for a man hated by many.

Ron shot him a look but he preceded Snape into Hermione's narrow hallway before saying, "You'll want to get out of those wet things, Professor Snape. I can be to my place and back in a tic. We're about the same size."

"You would lend me clothing?"

"Sure. Harry and Hermione obviously trust you, as do McGonagall and Flitwick. I've never known them to be wrong, especially Hermione – excepting Lockhart, of course."

"Hormonal aberration, I'm sure."

Ron snickered. "I expect."

When they entered the lounge, Harry had arrived with his prisoner. She had been placed on Hermione's sofa. When he saw Snape, he said, "She nearly got out, but I was ready this time."

Snape drawled, "No doubt that accounts for the fact we can no longer see her knickers."

Harry chortled, and Ron goggled at the camaraderie which had sprung up between the two men.

"Severus, what's happened?" Flitwick asked.

"We could use your expertise, Filius, in keeping her restrained. At least for the time being."

"Of course, of course." The Charms master stepped up to the sofa and drew his wand.

"How's Hermione?" Harry's brow furrowed.

Ron answered, "Madam Pomfrey's with her."

"You should have her look at your neck," Snape added, watching Flitwick at work. "You don't want an infection to set in.

"Are you hurt, Harry?" Ron's blue eyes inspected his friend.

"Just a nick." He pressed his fingertips to his throat which was crusted with dried blood and sand. "Where are you going, Ron?"

"Home." The redhead grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the china bowl on the mantelpiece. "Want me to grab you a set of clothes, too, Harry?"

"Would you?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in five." He cast the powder onto the flames and stepped into the green fire.

"What will we do with her?" Flitwick asked, staring angrily at Vector. A fiery blue cocoon enveloped the headmistress' body, and Flitwick seemed quite pleased with his handiwork.

From the bedroom a sharp, pained cry was heard and then cut off. All three men turned in the sound's direction, but there was nothing they could do.

"We should talk to Vector first," Harry pronounced, pacing along the edge of Hermione's rug. His shoes squelched as he walked, and he looked down and frowned. "After we do that, we'll decide whether to involve Kingsley or not."

"The Minister?" Flitwick's voice rose an octave.

"Yes." Harry removed his sandy, soggy Muggle trainers. He had already draped the infamous Deathly Hallow over two prongs of Hermione's coat stand which someone had placed adjacent to the fire. "He has the authority, and Hermione and I report to him directly in this investigation."

"Providentially, we have an honorable Minister," Snape commented, remembering what had happened to Barty Crouch, Jr. during Cornelius Fudge's term in office.

"That we have," Harry agreed, hanging his socks on the mantelpiece to dry.

Snape removed his own shoes in time for Ron to tumble back through the Floo and knock Harry's socks to the floor. He held two sets of men's clothes. "Ginny will come if you need her, Harry."

"I'll send a Patronus, after I change. You should go first ...." He trailed off not knowing what to call his former professor, ex-nemesis, and current ally.

"Thank you, Harry," Snape replied and accepted the clothes Ron held out for him. "You can call me Severus if you like." He nodded at Ron, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ron," he said, and headed toward the small bathroom, leaving the two friends to stare in open-mouthed astonishment behind him.

Pausing outside Hermione's bedroom door, he listened intently. By the quality of silence, he assumed a Silencing Charm had been used on the door. As he had already done what he could to help, he entered the small bathroom across the hall. He hung his wet clothes in the shower stall, but didn't waste the energy to dry them. He was exhausted, as much from hunger as anything else, and he didn't want to consider the unexpected, emotional costs of the day's events, at least not yet.

When he returned to the lounge, additional chairs had been transfigured to accommodate the number of people crowded in the small flat, Ron had just ducked his head into the Floo, and Vector had been moved to a conjured, padded bench in front of the wall of bookcases. Flitwick balanced on the leather chair, where Vector had sat an hour before, wielding his wand and effectively creating a jail cell to contain their prisoner, if necessary.

Snape recognized the complex warding from Hogwarts' Restricted Section. Suppressing a laugh, he joined Flitwick. "The only flaw I can see, Filius, is that Vector knows how the Granger Repel-Net works."

Before Flitwick could reply, Ron pulled his head out of the Floo, its green fire tinting his hair and beard the patina of aged and weathered bronze. "Oi! Did you say Granger Repel-Net?"

Harry paused in the process of carrying his own dry clothes toward the bathroom, and swung his head in Flitwick and Snape's direction. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was smiling with genuine amusement. "Do I have to ask, or will you tell us what a Granger Repel-Net is?"

Hogwarts' Charms master, wand raised to perform the next spell in the series, turned toward his interrogator and said with some degree of pride, "It's a complex and multi-layered series of security and entrapment spells designed to keep unauthorized students from sneaking into the library's Restricted Section."

Harry and Ron looked at each other across the small room, both desperate to howl with laughter. Harry managed to ask, "And you named it after Hermione?"

Flitwick's smile was as amused as the grins breaking out on the younger men's faces. "It was a unanimous decision."

Neither Ron nor Harry could control their laughter any longer, and they were joined by Snape and Flitwick, whose own mirth, while more restrained, was nonetheless heartfelt. In short order though, Ron managed to speak through his subsiding chuckles. "Brilliant! Absolutely bloody brilliant!"

Harry shifted his pile of clothes to his other arm and asked, "Does she know?"

"I understand that she does," Snape replied. "I don't believe, however, she found it quite as amusing."

"She wouldn't, would she?" Harry and Snape shared a moment of understanding and affection for the witch who had inspired such an enchantment.

From his position on the floor, Ron called out, "I'm ordering take-away. Do you like Chinese ... Severus?"

"I do indeed."

Ron ducked his head back into the flames, and before he left the room, Harry said, "It's Hermione's favorite and we thought ... after her day ... she might want a little coddling."

"An excellent idea. While that happens, I'll lend Filius a hand with the final entrapment spells."

"Are you certain, Severus?" Flitwick teased his friend. "All that foolish wand waving?"

Snape smirked, and withdrew his wand from the narrow pocket sewn into the outer leg seam of his borrowed trousers. He looked down his nose at his longtime friend, "I think I can manage."

In good humor, the two men infused the barrier with the last of the entrapment spells to enclose the headmistress of Hogwarts.

By then, Ron had finished ordering their meal, and had been driven by his curiosity to examine the Repel-Net. "I think this might have commercial applications. Have you considered selling or licensing the idea?"

As Flitwick explained the school's need for proprietary interest, Snape levitated Hermione's cold mug of cocoa from her coffee table and followed it into the kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in dry and comfortable jeans and a Molly-made jumper, joined him. "Do you think Vector drugged Hermione?" Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow. "The cocoa." Harry pointed. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"Vector didn't drug Hermione. She fascinated her. It's among the arsenal of certain species of Sanguinarians, and acts very much like the Imperius Curse with a soupçon of Confundus thrown into the mix. I," he said while lowering the used mug into the sink, "was planning to make Hermione a fresh cup. I promised her one while we were on the beach."

With the kitchen light reflecting off his glasses, the expression in Harry's eyes was unreadable, but his voice was colored with a surprising amount of emotion. "And you don't break promises, do you, Severus?"

"No, Harry, I don't." Peripherally, he noticed Ron and Flitwick standing in the doorway, watching the interaction. "What?" he snapped.

Flitwick ventured, "It's nice to see you making friends."

Ron snorted with real mirth and Snape sneered. He said bitingly, "I'm not a child."

"No, you're not," McGonagall agreed as she came up behind Flitwick, peeking into the kitchen over his head. "However, we've known you since you were, and I quite agree with Filius. It's nice to see you make friends." Flitwick snickered, and suffered the pointed end of a glare from Snape, but McGonagall ignored it because she had noticed his clothing. "Goodness, Severus, what are you wearing?"

Ron broke the congestion at the kitchen entrance by stepping back into the lounge and answering for Snape. "They're my clothes, Professor."

Flitwick began to investigate Hermione's small collection of lab equipment, Harry passed him on the way into the lounge to check on the effectiveness of the Granger Repel-Net, and Minerva had stepped back to talk to Ron. "I had no idea you two were so similar in build. The trousers – what are they called again?"

"Jeans," Ron supplied.

"Jeans. They suit you, Severus," she called over her shoulder. "And Mr. Weasley, Ron, as Harry and Hermione call me Minerva, I wish you would do likewise."

"Yes, Professor. I mean ... Minerva." Ron fingered his beard nervously, but when she moved to look at Septima Vector, he followed her, asking her questions about the Repel-Net.

Snape entered the lounge carrying a mug of cocoa to which a Heating Charm had been applied, and Flitwick joined Ron and Minerva as they discussed public domain aspects of entrapment spells. Harry wasn't in the lounge, and Snape heard voices coming from Hermione's room, so he quietly moved into the hallway.

Harry was seated at the foot of Hermione's bed, his head held at an odd angle while Pomfrey finished wrapping gauze around his neck, securing a medicated bandage to his small wound. "Hermione will be awake in a few minutes, Mr. Potter," said the mediwitch, "and she'll need to eat before I give her the pain potion."

Harry's voice was muffled. "Ron's ordered dinner and it shouldn't be long. Were the ribs her only injuries?"

Snape waited for the answer, the mug of cocoa warm in his hand.

"In addition to her ribs, there was significant bruising on her arms and one thigh," Pomfrey said, tucking a pale blue coverlet around Hermione's feet. "From the discoloration, I presume the arms were the result of the initial confrontation. There are distinctive finger-marks on her biceps, so I surmise she was restrained both mentally and physically." She straightened and began to repack her basket. "The thigh is more recent, and I've been able to reduce the swelling on it. Bruise Healing Paste will have to be applied for several days. As I said, the bruising was extensive. Otherwise, she should be quite well by morning."

"Excellent." Harry fingered the gauze bandage around his neck. "That makes things much easier."

"Indeed," Snape agreed, joining the discussion, and entering the room fully.

Pomfrey whirled but then relaxed. "Is there anyone else I need to look at?"

Snape let Harry answer; the détente between the matron and him was too new to test. He placed the mug of cocoa on Hermione's dresser, next to the heirloom silver hairbrush and mirror set she obviously treasured. But didn't use, he noticed.

"No," Harry replied. "The headmistress is merely stunned and incarcerated, and Professor McGonagall suffered nothing more than a chill and a bit of confusion."

"Minerva? What happened to Minerva?" Pomfrey set her hands on her hips. "What has been going on?"

"Stalker," Hermione piped up. "Keep Sev'us safe," she mumbled, half-sleep, and Snape pivoted to look at her.

The matron's eyes grew wide. "Were you being hunted, Severus?" she asked, using his name for the first time in more than eight years.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." He never took his eyes from Hermione's pale face as he answered. "If we adjourn to the other room, we could talk there. I believe Mr. Weasley has yet to be informed of all the details as well."

"He'll be properly pissed off," Harry said cheerfully, patting his friend's covered feet as he stood up from the bed. "Serves him right for leaving the Aurory."

Snape noticed Hermione's eyelids flutter. "I suspect we'll all be participating in the discussion in short order."

Pomfrey looked down at her charge. "You always were impatient, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," the younger witch said, blinking against the light. "You might as well call me Hermione. We'll be working together soon enough."

"You're still planning on accepting the position then?" Snape asked.

Hermione's eyes found his instantly. "I doubt it will ever be tedious."

Harry laughed. "Come on, you. We have to go and decide the fate of yet another Dark creature." He would have helped her up except Snape was at her side faster.

"I told you I would be displeased if you were hurt," he said sternly.

"I'm fine," she said, but sucked air through her teeth when she tried to rise. "Or I will be tomorrow. Really, Severus, I can walk."

"You have a choice, Hermione. Either Potter or I will carry you."

"Some choice," she replied. "You, of course." She laughed at the others' expressions. "Ginny would kill me if I chose Harry!"

Snape lifted her from the bed, and it was an entirely different experience carrying her while she was awake. She looped an arm around his neck, hissing in momentary discomfort, but he was gentle while carrying her to the lounge and depositing her on her sofa. After that, he promptly disappeared back into her bedroom, ostensibly to retrieve the cocoa, but in reality for some privacy to sort out his disordered emotions.

In the lounge, Hermione answered questions, but she kept glancing toward the hallway. She smiled when Snape returned carrying a steaming mug. However, it wasn't the cocoa which drew her attention, it was his appearance. She'd never seen him dressed so casually, and it suited him. When he placed the mug on the coffee table, their eyes met, but neither said a word.

He leaned against the end of her sofa, listening to Harry, Minerva and Flitwick tell the story. When the Chinese food arrived, Poppy Pomfrey excused herself and Minerva to Hermione's room, while Flitwick and Snape checked on the prisoner.

The restrictive cocoon of Flitwick's casting was no longer a solid glowing blue; instead, there were spots of flickering magic as the strigoi fought her confinement.

Flitwick snapped his braces. SNAP!

Snape frowned. "She's thrown off the Stupefy and two of the Auror restraining fields."

Flitwick's wand was already in motion. Golden sparks flew from the tip of his wand, spreading and attaching themselves to various points of the entrapment wards. They looked like Muggle glitter scattered across a piece of fine mesh.

"Trouble?" asked Harry, as he joined the two friends.

Flitwick replied, "She's resisting."

Snape pulled his wand and gave Harry a look which brooked no argument. Nonverbally he cast a spell in a distinctive viridian hue; it anchored itself to the golden motes Flitwick had just attached to the net. Together, the conjoined spells turned the same sickly shade of bronze Ron's hair and beard had been when he'd pulled his head from the Floo before.

Harry and Flitwick exchanged a troubled look, but neither said a word about the Dark magic Snape had just used in their presence. However, Harry suggested, "Perhaps we should deal with her now, before we eat."

"She will be secure for at least the next half hour," Snape said with certainty. "Besides, Hermione must eat before she can take her pain potion."

"All right," Harry agreed, and he moved his favorite chair into a position where he could easily see Vector and the rest of the room without difficulty. Snape returned to the sofa, only this time he sat at the end, just beyond Hermione's feet.

At that moment, McGonagall returned to the room with the mediwitch following, her basket tucked over her arm. Pomfrey stopped by the side of the sofa where Snape sat. She said softly, "I've been angry."

He craned his neck to look up at her. "Understandably."

She smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Aren't you staying, Madam Pomfrey?" Ron entered from the kitchen, directing the floating dishes and silverware to the coffee table where a number of cartons had already been placed. He said, "I ordered enough for you, too."

"I'd like that," she said, putting her basket in the small entrance, under the Foe-glass which reflected only Septima Vector's flickering form, before taking a plate and helping herself to a generous portion of sesame chicken. "Now if the house-elves cooked like this, it would be heaven."

Over an unusually convivial dinner – considering the circumstances, the fact that Harry kept his wand trained on the Granger Repel-Net, and that bit-by-bit Vector was demolishing each layer of the restraints placed upon her – every aspect of the case was discussed. Pomfrey was particularly interested in Hermione's adaptations of Muggle science, an interest shared by Flitwick, while Ron commented on how much he didn't miss the tedium of law enforcement.

In the end, however, it was Hermione they all turned to.

"You were right, Severus," she said, relinquishing her plate to McGonagall who was banishing them to the kitchen sink as soon as people were finished eating. "It was just as Harry feared. The headmistress saw me as competition. I'm sure she would have tossed my dead body into the outgoing tide, but I want there to be no doubts when we decide what to do next, so we should ask for her side of the story."

"You're quite correct, Hermione," Flitwick agreed, fingering his braces. "Everyone should have the right to be heard."

As Harry rose to his feet, Snape suddenly swore, "Scheiss!"

"What?" The question chorused from everyone save Hermione who had just taken a drink of her cocoa."

"Vector still has her wand." Snape pulled his own wand at that point. "It was Minerva's she planned to use on Hermione."

Harry swore creatively before saying sheepishly, "I forgot."

"My wand?" McGonagall asked, her color rising in anger. "She was going to use my wand on Hermione?"

Neither Snape nor Harry replied as they'd turned their attention to the captive. Only the faintest of blue still shimmered around her, but within moments she would have broken through all the restraints holding her in place.

Flitwick was on his feet, standing in front of his wards. While he might have lost some of his speed with his advancing years, he had once been a champion duelist, and was even more canny than he had once been. Ron shoved his transfigured chair in to the entrance and drew his wand, coming to stand at Harry's elbow. He might have been happy to leave the grind of the Aurory, but he would back his best friends anywhere, any when.

Harry widened his stance but looked at Snape, who had remained on the sofa with Hermione. "Will the Repel-Net hold her?"

"As I said earlier, she knows how to release it, but each layer will take time. Time during which we will be free to act."

Snape's reply was rendered unnecessary because Septima Vector broke through the final layer of restraints holding her against her will. The remnants of the blue cocoon flared briefly in a final death knell. Hogwarts' headmistress sat up, and then rose to her feet, adjusting her damp, sandy clothing as best she could.

When she raised her head and looked at her thunderstruck audience, she sneered. Her canines weren't pronounced but they were indeed sharp, and her piercing black eyes found Hermione immediately. "You were always an excellent student, Miss Granger," she said with great rancor. "I have nothing to add to this farce."

"How can you have nothing to say?" Pomfrey's expression was a blend of revulsion and astonishment.

The dark-haired vampire smiled her perfect little smile and said softly, "I have done nothing beyond my nature, Poppy. I am a seventh generation strigoi, directly descended from Vlad the Impaler. Like my forefather, I, too, am an Animagus. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I enjoy teaching, and Albus made it possible for me to do so. I see no reason why things have to change." Belying her declaration, Vector had stepped up to the modified magical barricade, and spread one hand out as if to touch the enchanted net. Magic sparked and hissed, and she withdrew a pace.

"You have committed a crime, Professor Vector," Harry said implacably, standing in front of the witch he had grappled so fiercely with on the beach. "One which will see you deposed and spending time in Azkaban."

She smiled, but there was frost in her tone. "Only if charges are pressed. Severus will never do that because he wants to teach at his precious school, to seek redemption for crimes he's paid for repeatedly."

"I wasn't referring to Professor Snape," Harry asserted. "You illegally coerced Minerva McGonagall to gain privileged information which you then used to abduct Hermione before you assaulted me."

"Nonsense. Minerva was Confunded by one of the cretins at school. Dawlish, perhaps. She has a grudge against Minerva because of her friendship with Severus."

"Fact," he replied. "Hermione Granger is an Auror, and you interfered with an investigation and threatened her life. You attacked two law enforcement officials and that carries triple the maximum sentence. We needn't ever mention Professor Snape's name at all, and you'll be in prison for two or three decades."

"I was terribly shocked to discover Miss Granger's body in the cove below my family's home, and I was coming to her aid when you attacked me in the dark, Mr. Potter." She sneered at him, and the tip of one gleaming fang shone green in the reflected glow from the Repel-Net. "I was defending myself."

Harry's expression didn't change, but McGonagall had pressed her hand against her heart. Vector's twisted account would undoubtedly be accepted at face value by many. Her reputation was impeccable.

The headmistress adjusted the shoulders of her robes as if she hadn't a care, and said conversationally, "The charges won't stick unless Granger and McGonagall give up Snape, and I doubt either of them will do that. And if they press charges, I'll tell my story to Rita Skeeter. She's always looking for a good story. Now, I need to get back to the school. Too many members of its staff are missing this evening." She gave the others a cool, assessing glance.

It was at that moment Hermione showed her more devious side. She had said nothing, but had watched the Sanguinarian. Vector affected nonchalance, but every few seconds her eyes darted to where Snape remained seated at the end of the sofa. If Hermione stretched she could reach him with her toes. Carefully, subtly, she inched her way along the cushions, ignoring the bright flare of pain from her battered ribs as she moved. The next time Vector focused on Harry, Hermione lifted both feet and boldly placed them in Snape's lap. She bit her lip to keep from giggling at his reaction, but he quickly schooled his expression and laid one of his hands upon her ankle. He glanced sideways at her, and she winked before she returned her attention to Harry and Vector.

"You ... you," Flitwick stuttered. "Seven, you don't honestly think we can allow you to return after what has happened?"

"What do you think has happened, Filius?" Vector took a step closer to the barrier. "I have simply paid court to one of my own kind, and it was rebuffed."

"You persecuted him!" McGonagall said, explosively. "You've tormented him for months. And what about that boar?"

"It threatened the children under my care. I have a responsibility to protect them against threats, do I not? I have no idea how it found its way to Severus' rooms during the night."

McGonagall spluttered and Poppy Pomfrey looked to be in shock.

"You will not return to Hogwarts," Snape said, entering the discussion for the first time. Vector snapped her head in his direction, but her eyes were riveted to Hermione's feet in his lap.

"There is nothing stopping me."

"I will stop you, Madam." Snape caressed Hermione's ankles absently, as if he'd done it before. The others watched uneasily, and Harry bounced a little on the balls of his feet, his wand shifting in his grip.

Vector clenched her fists, her eyes growing colder, darker ... until death was the only message in them. "You were supposed to be mine," she said, and unless one was looking closely, as indeed Harry and Ron were, it would have been impossible to tell that her fangs had grown.

Snape shrugged negligently, but the expression in his eyes was as cold as black ice. "I have found someone far more worthy."

"I don't believe you." Vector stood rigid, an alabaster statue of centuries-old perfection, but there was an unstable fault line waiting for the right pressure to split it wide open.

"Believe what you will, but I will never be yours. I belong to another," he said, and with remarkable sangfroid, he turned his head to look at Hermione, and she smiled so widely it could appear fatuous to a jaundiced audience.

However, it was the final insult which fractured the fault line.

Vector screamed as if the Moirae empowered her wrath, and she ripped through the first four layers of the reinforced Repel-Net as if they were smoke. Her eyes mutated to iridescent gold, and as she leapt toward Hermione, hands already shifting into talons, the final melded layers of protection were triggered. Flitwick and Snape's double spell released from its four attachment points, ceiling and floor, and dropped in a solid, opaque sheet, enclosing the charging strigoi as if she were a jacket potato being wrapped for baking.

Inside her magical shroud, Vector shrieked and raged, fighting against the ever tightening magical field. The tip of one claw poked through the sickly bronze-colored magical field, but then Vector screamed as the protruding talon was severed and cauterized. When it fell to the wooden floor, the talon reverted to its human form, revealing the tip of a finger, and an acrid smell overpowered the aromas of sesame chicken.

Vector stopped struggling.

Within ten minutes, the Dark component of the spell had been removed, Vector had been re-trussed, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived. It took a further fifteen minutes for him to be caught up on the details, and he, availing himself of the discretionary powers of his office, was the one to cast the Memory Charm on Septima Vector. During that entire time, Hermione hadn't moved from her location, neither had Snape.

"You're free," Hermione whispered to him.

"Again," he said, his fingers tracing runes on the smooth skin beneath his fingers.

~o0o~