Part 8, Episodes 71-80

71. What Happens Now?

It was after midnight, when they left the Room of Requirement and descended down to the dungeons.

The sounds of their steps echoed in the silent corridors and empty staircases. Hermione's high heels clacked in an odd descant to the tense stride of her husband.

Husband.

Her heartbeat thudded uncomfortably in her chest and the sensitive skin of her hands prickled at the thought. She glanced sideways at Severus as they crossed the Entrance Hall to the stairs that led down to their quarters.

This was their wedding night.

Late or not, tired or not, her heart began to race, while her stomach tightened with nerves. She knew Severus had been honest when he had told her that he did not love her. Just as he had been truthful when he had admitted to the fact that he did feel attracted to her. That he did care about her. And yesterday morning, when he had reassured her that however this marriage would turn out to be, it would be real.

Then the portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to the staircase that led up to their private rooms.

What would happen now?

Once inside the corridor, Hermione frowned. The hallway was much longer than she remembered it. Severus must have noticed it, too, because he sighed.

'I should have anticipated this. I believe the castle saw it fit to rearrange our living quarters to our new ... situation.'

'Situation?" She turned towards him, torn between exasperation and amusement.

He looked down his nose at her, nostrils quivering. Hermione frowned. Was he annoyed? But his eyes glinted black in the torchlight. No – not annoyed. Rather: exasperated. And amused as well.

She grinned at him. 'Shall we explore?'

As it turned out, Hogwarts hadn't changed all that much. The library had been enlarged to double as a sitting room and was now situated between two studies. Next to the laboratory they discovered a beautiful dining room with a balcony. Additionally there was a new bathroom with a small pool and shower big enough for two. The bedrooms the castle had left alone.

They ended up in the library again, and, Hermione thought, back to square one.

Wedding night.

She stared at Severus, unconsciously rubbing the slim golden ring around her finger. She just had no idea what to ... do ... or to expect.

'What ... what happens now?' she finally asked.

It was awkward to stand three feet away from ... her husband, and feeling just the same as she had any number of times while a student in his classroom: nervous and intimidated. She concentrated on the hem of her green dress, trying to assess his mood unobtrusively from underneath lowered lashes.

He wasn't any more comfortable than she was. His eyes glittered and his upper lip was curling into a snarl. 'If you are scared that I shall require you to fulfil your marital obligations now, I can ease your mind.'

Severus shook his head, his fine, slick hair flying. 'Hermione, look at me!'

With two swift strides he crossed the distance between them. Cool fingers touched her chin and forced her head up until she met his gaze. As always his beautiful black eyes made her stomach tingle and tighten.

'I will never demand anything from you,' he said in a soft voice. 'Nothing. Least of all ... anything ... like that. You have already given me more than I deserve. My life. My freedom.'

His hands slid to her shoulders, with careful, light touches.

'Please, Hermione,' he murmured. 'Don't look so scared.'

'But what...' Her voice didn't quite sound as if it belonged to her. 'But what if I... if I... if I wanted you to ...'

Severus raised an eyebrow at her and pulled her closer to him. When she gasped at the feeling of his arousal pressed against her stomach, he smirked. 'You only need to ask.'

Then he frowned, his eyes searching her face. 'Why are you so terribly nervous, Hermione?'

Her cheeks burned, but she couldn't break his gaze. 'Because ... I've never ... done this before.'

His reaction was instant. He took a step backwards. He stared at her, his face studiously devoid of any expression that might betray thoughts or feelings.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione mumbled, sinking down on one of the squashy armchairs, burying her face in her hands. That was certainly the strangest wedding night she could ever have imagined, with the bride apologising for the fact that she was still a virgin.

A rustle of his robes, and his scent flowed over her. Gentle fingers reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face. To her surprise Severus was kneeling before her.

'It is I who ought to apologise,' he said gravely. 'Please forgive me. I had never expected ...' He shook his head. 'Perhaps it is time for me to stop expecting anything, when my life seems to consist solely of surprises lately.'

Severus drew her hands to his lips and kissed them. He dropped kisses on her palms and whispered caresses over her fingers. The soft touch on the over-sensitive skin of her hands sent a jolt of pleasure through her body and provoked a shivery sigh. Her reaction seemed to please him. Slowly, cautiously, as if he wanted to make sure that he didn't frighten her, he reached for her face and trailed his fingertips along the lines of her face, forehead, temple, ear, jaw, until he reached her chin. He bent forwards – she leant towards him – their lips met. Like warm silk, his lips covered her mouth. When his tongue flicked against her lips, the sensation was exquisite. In a sigh of pleasure, her lips opened to his touch.

He explored her, teasing the corners of her mouth, slipping in, swirling along the inside of her lips, snaking around her tongue. Severus tasted of the wine and whisky they had drunk, of spices and a hint of the bittersweet chocolate from the dessert.

oooOooo

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oooOooo

72. The Night after the Wedding

When she came back to the world, Hermione was on her knees. Only Severus' embrace kept her from collapsing.

'I think,' he said hoarsely. 'That is quite enough for tonight. We are both tired and not quite sober.'

When she uttered a soft noise of protest, he kissed the corner of her mouth, sending another spark of desire through her body. A reaction that did not escape his attention. His eyes shone with a satisfied gleam.

'There is time for everything, Hermione. Time enough. We can still count the times we have kissed on our fingers.'

'But...'

'Shhh,' he laid a long, slender finger over her mouth, before tenderly tracing her lips with his fingertip.

'I do want you, Hermione,' he stated. The unadulterated possessiveness in his voice caused a pleasant warmth to spread through her stomach.

His lips curled into an unexpected smile. 'I desire you very much. But I assure you that shared intimacy is more rewarding if the process to reach its completion is not rushed and if each stage is savoured for its own sake.'

She couldn't breathe. He had bewitched her mind, ensnared her senses. She gulped audibly, trying desperately to fashion her fraying thoughts into a coherent answer.

'That ... sounds much like the brewing of a potion,' she gasped at last. 'You need to add each ingredient at exactly the right time ... stir with a precise rhythm ...'

And hadn't his tongue stirred her desire just as adroitly has he mixed his brews?

'Indeed,' he smirked.

Although her aroused body regretted it, her mind was willing to agree to his reasoning. Her heart remained torn. Whatever was going to happen or not, she did not want to sleep alone tonight. Her face or body must have given her away. Severus rose to his feet and drew her up with him. Once they were standing, he embraced her once more, but did not allow her to touch his lower body.

'What do you want? I can see it in your eyes – you want to ask a question, but you don't dare. While I might enjoy such rare an occurrence normally, tonight I would prefer you to simply tell me what you want.'

She took a deep breath. As an adult woman, as his wife, she should be able to answer a simple question in a complete sentence.

'Even if – we don't sleep with each other tonight,' she said, ignoring the heat that suffused her cheeks, 'I... don't want to sleep alone tonight. If you don't mind.'

In the depth of his eyes an emotion flickered. Disbelief? His embrace tightened, allowing her to feel again that his body at least had very different ideas about the pace of progress for their relationship.

'Mind? Foolish woman. Why would I mind that?'

oooOooo

He was dressed in sensible black pyjamas, fine cotton, not satin or silk, almost as concealing as his daywear, when he re-emerged from her bathroom. When he noticed her curious look, a weary expression crossed his face.

'I learnt years ago that it wasn't a good idea to wear the nightshirts favoured by most wizards ... or any – shall we say 'enticing' fabrics – in case I was summoned.'

Hermione stared at him, at a loss for words. She had not expected his newfound openness to extend quite that far.

An instinct as old as mankind tugged at her heart. If only she could heal his heart, smooth away those pains and hurts. But when she saw his bleak, black eyes, she knew that no instinct would suffice. Maybe nothing ever would. Suddenly the years and experiences that separated them turned into a deep abyss.

He passed her and slipped under the green covers without sparing her another glance. Only when he had settled down in her magically enlarged four poster bed, he looked at Hermione again.

And then Hermione showed that she was indeed a Gryffindor.

She smiled at her husband, and began to undress.

At last she stood naked in front of her bed. She was acutely aware that her nipples were still taut with arousal and the slight chill of the room, and more than a little self-conscious at showing herself to Severus with all her little imperfections: the purple scar at her throat from Bellatrix' knife, the paler mark from the curse that had hit her in the Ministry of Magic, the slightly irregular shape of her breasts, the way her hipbones jutted out painfully because she was so thin.

With some trepidation, she sought his eyes, and was shocked at the intensity of his gaze. His eyes were blazing, his face – she had never seen Severus Snape like that before ... his expression completely unguarded, laid bare, not for the world, but for her eyes only to see.

And he was looking at her, as if she was ... she couldn't find the right word, caught in that mesmerizing gaze ... something special and unexpected, at the very least.

She padded over to the bed and pulled out her nightshirt from below her pillow.

'It's green,' she said pointedly.

'So I see.'

As she slipped into the bed, her heartbeat quickened. She had never slept in the same bed with someone else before. Even after years of sharing a dorm, this would be a new experience.

'May ... I?'

He frowned, but nodded.

She scooted over with an awkward slither, before she curled up against him. He was too thin for a man of his size. But he felt good next to her. Strong, and warm, and solid. His tantalizing, addictive scent enveloped her. Severus exhaled deeply, then he slid an arm around her, drawing her even closer to his side. Hermione felt a small, contented sigh escape her lips as she snuggled closer to her husband and inhaled his special fragrance.

A few breaths later she was already falling asleep, sucked into the warm darkness of safe, sheltered slumber, for once without any dreams or nightmares at all.

oooOooo

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oooOooo

73. Hold on Tight

'Crookshanks! Crooks! Croooooooks!' The panicked voice of Alina Petrel echoed noisily in the dungeons of Slytherin House.

Ebe – Ebenezer Sibly-Style – came up for air from his Potions essay. 'What's wrong, Ali?'

'Her... Mrs. Snape's cat! I was supposed to watch him for the weekend, while they are gone. And now HE is gone, too!' Her lower lip was trembling. 'I promised to take care of him. And now he's disappeared and they haven't even been gone two hours!'

'Shit,' her friend said succinctly. 'Where have you seen him last?'

'I'm not sure. He explored the common room for a while, then he curled up on my bed. I still have that essay to write for Professor McGonagall, and when I was halfway through, I thought I'd take a look to see if Crooks was all right or if he wanted food or something ... and he was gone!'

Ebe did his best thoughtful scowl, tracing his lips with the fingertip of his right forefinger. Alina rolled her eyes. He was taking things a bit far regarding his imitation of their Head of House. If Professor Snape ever caught that, Ebe would probably spend the rest of the term in detention, scrubbing cauldrons and pickling frog-brains.

'We need to search the house at once,' he said decisively. 'He's a half-kneazle, right? So Summoning Charms are out.'

Alina nodded. Oh God, this couldn't be happening. Not to her. Hermione had trusted her!

Ebe was already approaching the Seventh Year prefect, Ciardha Vaisey. 'Sir? We have a problem ...'

oooOooo

'Don't be afraid,' Severus said in a low voice. 'Just hold on tight.'

The CRACK of the Apparition was the loudest Hermione had heard so far, and the blackness that engulfed her seemed endless, although it probably didn't last more than a few seconds. But these seconds were terrifying enough – existence without a body, being trapped neither here nor there, unable to breathe, to feel.

Then she was in his arms again, his lips kissably close, his eyes piercing as if he could look right into her heart.

Severus seemed reluctant to let her go. As far as Hermione was concerned, she would have been happy to keep standing in his embrace a while longer, wherever they were.

... wherever they were?

'Where are we?' she asked. Drawing away from him, she turned around in an astonished circle, gasping at the façade of a huge church looming up above them. 'We're not in Britain anymore, are we? That's why you asked me to wear Muggle clothes!'

'Excellent deduction, Miss Granger, however did you notice?' Severus sneered. 'As a matter of fact, we are in France.'

'It's Mrs. Snape,' she retorted. 'And I knew that. People speaking French and street signs in French are rather a clue. Also, the Apparition noise was louder than usual ... I didn't know you could do cross-channel Apparition.' She tried not to frown. She did trust him implicitly.

'Relax, Mrs. Snape,' he murmured. 'While I wouldn't dare cross-continental Side-along Apparition if it wasn't absolutely necessary, you are quite safe with me within Europe.'

'You've done cross-continental Apparition?' Hermione gaped at her husband.

He nodded with a small smirk. 'Apparition is about power and concentration. I have both.'

'Hmm.' That much was obvious. 'Where exactly in France are we? And why have you brought me here?'

'This is the cathedral of Chartres. One of the finest examples of Gothic architecture in France. Famous for its stained glass windows and their exceptionally vivid blue colour. Come, let's have a look inside.'

She glanced at him sideways. 'I get to wear jeans and you remain dressed like a priest? Severus, if you so much as look at me while you're dressed like that, people will be shocked!'

He quirked an eyebrow, but pulled his wand from his sleeve. A quick, surreptitious gesture, and Severus stood next to her in blue jeans and a black shirt.

'Better?'

Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted. 'Who are you? And what have you done to Severus Snape?'

'Maybe I simply want to ensure that I have all the opportunity to "look" at you while we are here that I can get – without arousing any undue suspicion?' he asked silkily, his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

oooOooo

The interior of the cathedral was very dark. The high, angular ceilings were lost in shadows, and twilight obscured the views of the long aisles. Incense filled the air.

Hermione thought that they must have entered the church not long after the end of a service. Several persons were still kneeling in the pews, mostly old women dressed in black, and there were only few tourists wandering around, peering into chapels and staring up at the windows.

Severus moved along without a noise beside her and Hermione felt the urge to walk on tiptoes, even though her sneakers barely made a sound on the flag stones.

She could barely remember the last time she had been in a church. As a child she had gone to church with her mother every Sunday. But then she had received her letter. And everything had changed. Uncomfortably, Hermione hugged herself, then hid her shaking hands inside her jeans-pockets. Why had she stopped going to church? Obviously at Hogwarts that was impossible, but she could have gone in the holidays.

'Keep those hands out of your pockets,' Severus hissed. 'Show some respect.'

Hermione jumped. Her hands icy, her face on fire, she ducked her head. 'Sorry, s... I'm sorry.'

He nodded, and gestured to move on to the eastern end of the cathedral.

'This part of the cathedral is normally called 'apses' and if it is accessible, an 'ambulatory apses'. In this case, the correct term, however, is 'chevet' due to the radiating chapels built around the 'head' of the cathedral,' Severus explained in a low voice. 'Come, let us sit down in the nave for a while. I believe there's a choir practice scheduled in a few minutes. I think you may enjoy listening.'

oooOooo

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oooOooo

74. Blossom of Magic

The bench was hard and uncomfortable, but the dim rays of blue and red light that filtered through the stained glass windows captivated her attention. Although the cathedral was a structure of stone, the secret of its architecture was the interplay of shadow and light: the sunlight as it lit the scenes in the colourful windows, the shadows obscuring the height of the arcs that carried the nave and the aisles, the flickering lights of the candles lit to carry a prayer to aloft, the darkness that lurked behind the vast columns.

Severus was right; shortly after they sat down, a boys' choir began a rehearsal. The song of bright young voices drifted through the high halls of the church and tugged at Hermione's heart. She didn't understand the words, nor did she need to. What else would they be singing but a prayer or a psalm? Again Hermione experienced a pang of regret, an odd, forlorn ache. She felt like a stranger here, out of place. Because she was a witch? Was that the true reason her mother had stopped going to church with her? Without her parents to anchor her to it, Hermione realised, the Muggle world was slipping from her grasp, faster and faster.

But why should that make her sad? She had her own world. And her own ... well, she supposed that you could call a husband 'family'. Or at least the nucleus of a family.

Suddenly she wished that she could find it in her heart to pray. She had so much to pray for. Hermione glanced at her husband. The twilight softened the harsh lines of his face. Why had Severus brought her here? She wasn't surprised when he noticed her gaze. But the understanding she saw in his dark eyes took her unawares. Quickly, Hermione closed her eyes to keep silly tears from spilling.

A hand touched her fingers, slipped under her palm, dry and cool and strong. Fingers curled around her hand and held it in a careful grip, as always mindful of the hypersensitivity his blood had left her with.

oooOooo

'The cathedral of Chartres is also renowned for its labyrinth,' Severus murmured, as he led her back to the entrance of the cathedral. He pointed to the floor at their feet. 'It was integrated in the design of the cathedral from the beginning, and is one of the finest labyrinths to be found in the cathedrals of the western world. Some say it reflects the symbol of the "flower of life" – God at the centre, the world and the universe spiralling outwards. In the wizarding world the same symbol is known as the 'blossom of magic'. For ages the labyrinth has meant a symbolic pilgrimage. You walk its paths in the hope of ascending toward salvation or enlightenment.'

Hermione stared at the white and black stone at her feet.

'The white stone comes from the quarries of Berchères, the black from Senlis. The diameter...'

'Do you believe in God?' she asked suddenly.

Severus paused, but didn't reprimand her for her interruption. Instead he considered her question.

'No,' he replied at last. 'At one time, I might have wanted to believe in a God. But that was long ago. Now ...' He shook his head. 'There is a Muggle who wrote a few lines about this cathedral. He is quoted in most travel guides. Orson Welles.

'A fact of life ... we're going to die. "Be of good heart," cry the dead artists out of the living past. Our songs will all be silenced – but what of it? Go on singing. Maybe a man's name doesn't matter all that much,'

Severus quoted. 'Don't forget that there is a world out here, Hermione. A whole world for you to see. And you belong to this world, too.'

'And how about you?'

Severus sighed and shook his head, refusing to answer her question.

'Come,' he said at last and held out his hand to her. 'Will you walk to the centre with me?'

oooOooo

They had just reached the centre of the labyrinth when a tiny old man in the black robes of a priest came hurrying towards them.

'Ah, it is you!' the priest smiled up at Snape. 'I thought I 'ad 'eard your voice. It 'as been a long time.'

Severus inclined his head. 'Yes. I was busy. And then I was ... sick, for a while ... Abbé Rigaud, may I present my wife, Mrs. Hermione Snape?'

The old man beamed at her and held out his wrinkled hand. 'Enchanté, madame! Absolon Rigaud is my name, and I am delighted to meet you.'

When she shook his hand, the priest covered her hand with his. Then he reached for Snape's hand, and although Severus looked extremely discomfited at the touch, he allowed the old man to take it. Abbé Rigaud's faint smile told Hermione that he was aware of how uncomfortable that gesture made her husband.

'May the love that brought you together grow and mature with each passing year. May it bring you both ever closer to the Lord through your love for each other. Let your love grow to perfection,' the priest intoned as he brought their hands together, joined them and covered them with his own. 'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: The Lord make 'is face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up 'is countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'

'Thank you, Father,' Hermione whispered.

Severus wordlessly inclined his head.

'I am afraid, young man, that this will be the last time we meet,' Abbé Rigaud said in his wheezy old man's voice, his accent more pronounced than before. 'It is time for me to find my way to the 'eart of the labyrinth.' He turned to Hermione and smiled. 'Madam, I don't think you know 'ow much joy it brings to my 'eart to know that my friend 'as found you. 'e 'as been alone for far too long.'

oooOooo

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oooOooo

75. Discoveries

'Why come here?' Hermione asked later. 'If you don't believe in God? I'm sorry...' Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but didn't comment.

'I don't mean to pry,' she stated firmly. They were sitting in front of a small bistro with a splendid view of the square and the cathedral. 'But this,' she gestured, 'this is so very unlike you – well, unlike the Severus Snape I'm used to, anyway, that – well, I keep wondering who you are.'

When he drew his wand and flicked it underneath the table to create a Muffliato screen, Hermione knew that whatever Severus' reply would turn out to be, it wouldn't be a comfortable answer. She creased her forehead. What was this all about? Showing her that she had no idea who he was? Or – she amended – that she only knew small parts of who he was?

'Years ago my ... masters determined that I ought to be able to accomplish cross-channel and cross-continental Apparition. While I had the determination, the concentration and the power to obey their wishes even then, I lacked practice.

'Travel guides tend to include good pictures of famous cathedrals. And plain Muggle photographs are an excellent source for the visualization of your destination. Better than wizarding pictures, in fact, because movement distracts the focus of your mind.

'It was pure chance that I ended up here.'

He shrugged. 'I'm not in a position to say if it was chance or fate that I met Abbé Rigaud when I did. Or that he saw – that he noticed...'

Severus' eyes grew so bleak that it was impossible for Hermione to distinguish between his pupils and his iris.

'He listened to me when no one else would,' Severus went on in a brittle voice. 'He offered me the forgiveness of his God at a time when...'

He shook his head and changed the subject. 'I thought you might enjoy the blue windows ... Blue is your favourite colour, isn't it? You never wear it, because it doesn't suit you. But you keep that blue vase on your window sill, and a blue bowl with potpourri on the other nightstand.'

Hermione nodded. She was surprised that he noticed such things. But of course Severus had been a spy for the better part of his adult life; it was probably second nature to him to be aware of such details.

'Yes,' she replied. She was acutely aware of the many things in his past she wasn't ready to know about. It shamed her that she didn't feel able to handle all of it, all of him. So Hermione did the next best thing: she let the topic go and followed his lead in this conversation. 'The vase is actually a souvenir. From a holiday I spent in France with my parents.'

'You sent a postcard to Minerva. The summer after the Chamber of Secrets was opened.'

'It feels so strange,' Hermione said in a small voice. 'I remember that holiday. I really do. But it feels so distant ... as if it never happened, or as if it happened to somebody else.'

oooOooo

Sunday morning Alina was in a state of hysterics.

The Slytherins had spent all of Saturday searching their House. They had discovered a many things – among them a trapdoor to a secret tunnel, a junk room that no one had ever noticed before, filled with all kinds of curious clutter, and what looked like a torture chamber, complete with shackles hanging from the walls and a real rack, but no Crookshanks.

Ciardha Vaisey was a smart young man. He knew when he was beat.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' he told the dejected and exhausted Slytherins loitering in the common room. 'There's no choice. We need help. And we don't need just any kind of help.

'We need the help of Gryffindor House.

'The cat of Madam Snape spent most his years here at Hogwarts in Gryffindor House. It stands to reason that he either went there to hide, or that they know where he might be found.'

He turned to Alina and fixed her with a steely gaze. Alina shivered. She knew that he would be polite to her outside Slytherin House. But there would be hell to pay later. And she rather suspected her punishment would involve the newly discovered torture chamber.

'Alina, you accompany me.'

'Yes, sir,' she whispered, her stomach queasy.

It would have been better if she had died in the debris of Dumbledore's tomb.

oooOooo

The students of Gryffindor House devoted their Sunday morning to turning their House upside down – in vain.

Then Headgirl Ginny Weasley met with emissaries from Slytherin House on neutral ground (the Trophy Room).

'I don't think you need to worry about Professor Snape,' she told Ciardha Vaisey. 'I don't think he even likes Crooks. However, I'd really hate for Hermione to come home to bad news about her pet.'

Ciardha just shook his head at the Gryffindor's ignorance. 'That cat is as much a Slytherin now as Madam Snape. We'd better find him. Or I fear Slytherin House will be in detention until Alina graduates.

'We need to call all Houses. This is an unprecedented emergency.'

oooOooo

In the end it was a Hufflepuff who found Crookshanks.

Johannes Flamel (one of the would-be knights of Dumbledore's Army) had missed the fun of an emergency meeting consisting of all four Houses because he'd been in detention with Filch. He simply appeared at tea time in the Great Hall, the big ginger tomcat in his arms.

'OH MY GOD!' Alina screamed and raced towards him. 'CROOKS! Joe, wherever did you FIND him??? '

Johannes, astounded to find himself at the centre of a rapidly growing crowd of students from all four Houses, shrugged.

'I didn't find him, precisely. He showed up in Filch's office, and the old git threw a fit about a strange cat invading his quarters.' He rolled his eyes. 'He's Miss... Madam Snape's cat, isn't he? How did he get out of Slytherin House?'

oooOooo

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oooOooo

76. Due Punishment

'A word with you, Mr. Vaisey?'

As Ginny approached the Seventh Year Prefect of Slytherin House, she wondered just how the custom of formal address among the Seventh Year students had developed. She suspected it had something to do with the accelerated Seventh Years who had taken their NEWTs just before Christmas. Only a handful of the original students of that year had returned to Hogwarts, all of them changed by the war. Formal address had eased things along between them, and somehow the regular Seventh Years had picked up that habit.

'Yes, Headgirl Weasley?'

Ginny rolled her eyes. What was it with Slytherins and their sneers?

'Prefect Vaisey, I request a moment of your precious time. In the Trophy Room, if you please.'

oooOooo

The moment they entered the Trophy Room, Ginny Weasley got down to business. 'Prefect Vaisey, I assume you are planning to punish Miss Petrel for her negligence concerning Madam Snape's cat. When you mete out that punishment, I shall be present.'

'What?' he stared at her, taken aback. Regaining his composure, Vaisey replied smoothly, 'Headgirl Weasly, I believe according to school regulations that is none of your busines.'

Weasley wasn't impressed. 'School regulations, humbug. Vaisey, Alina is Hermione's friend. She's the daugher of my brother's girlfriend. I am making this my business. You have a choice. Either I'll be present when you punish Alina, or I'll take the whole matter to your Head of House. Imagine how pleased Professor Snape will be when we bother him with this.'

Vaisey sighed. This was certainly not a good weekend for Slytherin House. To be at the mercy of the other Houses not once, but three times in one day was degrading.

'Very well. Here's what we will do ...'

oooOooo

'... that's a ... quite educational punishment, Mr Vaisey.' Ginny narrowed her eyes at the brown-haired Slytherin. Vaisey smirked, a subtle sparkle in his pale green eyes.

'Miss Petrel promises to grow into a powerful witch. She needs to learn not to let things ... slip from her grasp, or to lose control,' he explained. 'It's actually a modified version of an exercise I've been conducting with my Third Year DADA study-group. As such it was approved by Professor Weasley.'

Vaisey smirked at the Headgirl's confusion. Confusion that turned into a frown.

'Vaisey? Am I imagining things, or do you actually care about her? Do you realise that Alina is a CHILD?'

Cold anger surged through Vaisey. Why did the other Houses always expect the very worst of Slytherin? He clenched his teeth. But of course he knew why. He forced himself to provide a polite answer.

'Yes, I most certainly do realise that, Headgirl Weasley. Contrary to popular assumptions, the customs of Slytherin House are not that depraved.' He didn't know what prompted him, but he added in a moment of rare boldness, 'I am very much aware that Miss Petrel is a child now. However, it should prove interesting to meet her again, say, eight or ten years from now.'

Weasley's frown deepened, but she didn't comment.

'Very well,' Vaisey said wearily. 'I shall expect you at the entrance of Slytherin House tonight at ten o'clock.'

oooOooo

Alina was almost petrified with fear as she stepped into the torture chamber. As she had suspected, the prefects of her House had decided that her punishment would serve as an inauguration ceremony for the newly discovered room.

All six prefects of Slytherin House were present. And – a wave of such intense relief flooded Alina that her knees went quite weak – Headgirl Ginny Weasley. But Ginny's arms were crossed in front of her chest, and her face was cold. Alina realised that Ginny was not there to prevent her punishment.

'Alina Petrel,' Prefect Vaisey commanded. 'Tell us why you are here.'

'I-I have been negligent with m-my duties. A-and because of that ... I have brought shame to m-my House. I'm sorry, sir. I'm really, really sorry!'

She wanted to say that she still didn't understand how Crookshanks could have escaped from her room, but she knew that didn't matter. He had escaped, and the subsequent collaboration with the other Houses had cost Slytherin pride dearly. They would be the butt of school-jokes for months.

'I deserve to be punished,' she added in a small voice. 'I'm here to request my punishment.'

'Very well,' Vaisey said. 'Step in front of that wall.'

He pointed to the wall where the heavy chains with shackles and manacles were set into the stones. Trembling, Alina obeyed.

'Wand out!' Vaisey commanded.

That surprised Alina, but she pulled her wand out of her sleeve.

Then everything happened at once.

'Expelliarmus!' shouted Fifth Year prefect Angela Sutron, and Alina's wand flew from her hand.

'Compedio!' cried Sixth Year prefect Graham Pritchard. Shackles snapped around her ankles, chaining her to the wall.

'Pulta!' ordered Vaisey. Alina's wand rose into the air and raced towards her.

Then the beating started.

oooOooo

'Alina? Are you okay?' Geilis' worried voice penetrated the warm shelter of her blankets. 'Alina? Please, talk to me! Or-or...I'll call Mrs. Snape!'

'No!' Alina shot up and instantly winced with pain. 'Don't you dare!' She glared at Geilis with her left eye, as the right one was rather spectacularly blackened.

'OH MERLIN, Alina! You're bruised all over! Does it hurt very badly?'

Alina forced herself to face her friend and stiffly shook her head. 'It's really not as bad as it looks. What's worse is the disgrace of it all. Gilly, they had me wandless and shackled in a second! And then they made my OWN wand wallop me. I had to catch it, and break the power of the Charm with my willpower. Not with a spell. Just with the power of my mind.' Tears of humiliation burned in Alina's eyes. 'Obviously FLOBBERWORMS have more willpower than I do.'

'You can't leave the dorm looking like that,' Geilis told her. 'Look, how about I get a jar of bruise balm for you?'

oooOooo

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oooOooo

77. Sleepbringer

The sweet, low sound of a bell alerted Snape to the fact that something was amiss in the Slytherin Common Room. That, and the incredible wave of fatigue that suddenly swept over him and almost flattened him snoring to the ground where he stood. He blinked convulsively as a huge, undignified yawn split his face.

Snape shook himself. Something was going on. The very air of the dungeons tasted suddenly of Dark Magic. Of ancient, very dark magic. Another yawn made tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. He scowled, fumbled with clumsy hands for a phial of Invigoration Draught and downed it quickly.

Then he gripped his wand and strode towards the common room of Slytherin House.

oooOooo

Once inside Snape was greeted by scene of rare peacefulness. Just before dinner, the common room was packed and normally quite a rowdy place.Tonight, however, silence reigned supreme.The lifeless bodies of students lay on the ground or slumped motionless over tables and in their chairs. Only Alina Petrel was standing in the middle of the room, her right arm raised, a tiny silver bell clasped in her hand, her dark eyes wild with fright.

Icy shock flashed through Snape. He fell to his knees next to Geilis Duncan and pressed his fingertips against her throat, held the inner side of his wrist in front of her half-opened mouth. After one of the longest moments of his life, a deep sigh of relief escaped him. He drew himself up and willed the frantic beating of his heart to slow down.

Miss Duncan was merely asleep.

A quick investigation assured him that indeed all of the students who had collapsed in the Slytherin common room had merely fallen asleep wherever they had been standing and whatever they had been doing.

With one notable exception.

'MISS PETREL,' Snape roared. 'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?'

oooOooo

'What did you put in there?' Severus's voice was so hoarse that his words were barely audible when he eyed the steaming cup with obvious misgivings.

The line between his brows cut deeper than normally.

'A pinch of slippery elm bark, some wild cherry bark, cardamom, clove and a spoon of finely chopped liquorice root. Blended with Assam. With hot milk and honey,' Hermione explained patiently. 'And I'm not trying to poison you. It's one of Professor Sprout's recipes. Neville says it's going to help you.'

'I am supposed to find something that Longbottom said reassuring?'

Hermione's lips twitched. 'This is his area of expertise, Severus. It's a herbal tea. Not a potion.'

'Hmpf.' But Severus picked up his tea and took a careful sip. Then another. And another. For a long while they sat together in silence, simply drinking their tea. After a day spent in boisterous classrooms, the quiet of their quarters was very welcome indeed.

'So what did Alina do this time?'

Severus drew up his eyebrows and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'It seems that the Room of Requirement has seen it fit to give Miss Petrel a present during our wedding reception,' he rasped.

Yelling at Alina had taken a lot out of his voice. Hermione frowned worriedly. Whatever the room had give Alina must be very dangerous for Severus to be in such a state. A moment later, her suspicions were confirmed.

'The damn Room dumped the tool of a Necromancer into the girl's lap,' Severus went on. 'And instead of bringing it to me for inspection, the little idiot simply tried it out right there in the common room.'

'Alina rang a Necromancer's bell?' Hermione gasped with shock.

Necromancy wasn't taught at Hogwarts, but it was part of the Ninth Year curriculum at Durmstrang and of Auror Training in Britain.

'Why am I not surprised that you know about necromancy?' Snape asked wearily.

'Err...probably because you know me too well?' She bit down on her lower lip. 'Harry did a course a while ago. It's part of his Auror Training, apparently. And you know that Harry's interested in everything to do with the Deathly Hallows, because...well, because of what happened during the battle. And now that the Elder Wand may have been stolen ...' Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. 'I...uh...I may have persuaded Harry to share some of his course-materials with me.'

'Hermione, have you learned nothing at all from the last years?' Severus held up his hand to still her hurt protest before she even opened her mouth. 'Forgive me. I didn't mean it like that. But you do need to promise something to me now, Hermione.

'Promise me that you will come to me with whatever you wish to learn. I will teach you enough to satisfy your curiosity. But please, promise me that you will never touch any of the Dark Arts on your own. Promise me, Hermione. If you value the integrity of your soul, promise that to me.'

His eyes bored into her with frightening intensity. She swallowed drily.

'I promise,' she said at last. 'About today ... what kind of bell was it? And you could wake everyone, right?'

'It was the bell traditionally called "Ranna". The first and smallest of the seven bells that a Necromancer wields,' Severus explained. 'She is also called 'somnifer' or 'sleepbringer', as that is her power – to bring silence and sleep. Including eternal slumber.'

'Oh shit,' Hermione cursed softly.

'Indeed.'

'What did you do?'

'After I screamed at Miss Petrel in a way fit to wake the dead right there and then without the help of any bells and brought the Bloody Baron breathing down my neck?' Severus rotated tense shoulders. When he looked at Hermione again, his eyes were dark with regret.

'I woke them,' he said simply. 'And then I gave Miss Petrel detention until the end of the term.'

Her heart seemed to freeze inside her. Hermione shuddered convulsively.

'I woke them.'

Once again her whole world had changed from one second to the next.

Her husband was a necromancer.

oooOooo

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oooOooo

78. How Can You Still Touch Me?

Severus put down his mug. His fingers strayed to his forehead again. Hermione hated to see him so weary and worried. She almost winced with embarrassment, when she realised that she had likely added to his load yet again with her selfish quest for dangerous knowledge.

Hermione rose to her feet and quietly moved behind him. She reached for his head and drew it gently against the back of the chair. She hesitated a moment. Then she gingerly smoothed back his hair and began to massage his head. Severus inhaled sharply and stiffened. But when she didn't react, and only kept rubbing his head and temples with careful, light movements, he exhaled deeply. After a while she could feel how he relaxed under the delicate circles her fingertips were drawing on his skull.

To her surprise, Severus' hair wasn't all that greasy. It was slick and lank, but most of all it was very, very fine, almost feathery, and so black that it shone with blue highlights as she parted it with her fingers. Hermione decided she rather liked feeling him like that, the curve of his skull, those fine strands. The slow rhythm of the massage also soothed the frantic circuits of thoughts and worries in her mind and calmed her racing heart.

Her fingers caressed his temples and smoothed his forehead. Would he mind if she bent down and kissed him? But suddenly Severus reached up and captured her hands. He drew her down towards him until she was sitting on the right-hand armrest. But to her surprise that position still didn't satisfy him. Only when her head was resting on his shoulder, he appeared content. Now his fingers found their way into her hair, tenderly tracing her temple, the curve of her ear, down her neck, stroking her, almost meditatively curling and uncurling her hair. Each touch made her skin tingle and her stomach tighten. But she kept still and didn't demand more than he would give her. The moment was too precious.

Abruptly he stilled the movement of his hand.

'Gryffindors,' he murmured. 'I'll never understand them. How can you still touch me, Hermione? Now that you know? How can you stand to let me touch you?'

She sighed. 'As I understand necromancy you cannot really learn all that much about it. It is rather a very special talent. Like being a Metamorphmagus. Either you're born that way or not.'

Hermione drew back so she could face Severus. The bleak look in his eyes wrenched her heart. She would rather see him smirk and sneer than witness such misery. She studied his face, so carefully devoid expression. Only the absolute blackness of his eyes betrayed the depth of his despair.

Her heart skipped a beat when realisation struck her. Severus was allowing her to see beyond his ever-present armour of sarcasm and scorn. He trusted her with his despair.

She sighed deeply and reached for his hands. She curled her fingers around his hands and held them as tightly as she could. The touch was almost painful. She met his eyes without flinching.

'Why should it change anything?'

She shifted her position and leant over, until her lips hovered over his. She allowed herself to sink into his fathomless gaze and kissed him.

At first she just brushed over his thin, cool lips. Her touch grew firmer. She teased and stroked until he parted his lips and allowed her inside. Her tongue slid into his mouth. The hard, smooth edge of his teeth. Warm wetness. Touch of tongue. Taste of tenderness. She twined her tongue around his, trailed along the sides, delved below ... and at last had to come up for air with a gasp.

She could feel him against the side of her thigh, hard, pulsing even through the fabric of his trousers. But when she made to reach for him, he stopped her.

'Much as I desire you,' Severus murmured. 'This is not the right time.'

He drew a shaky breath. 'I think I am ... aware now that you ...'

'That I'm still willing to touch you? To be touched by you?' Hermione provided, grateful to see that the despair had faded from his eyes. Instead his expression wavered between amazement and exasperation.

'That much is obvious even to an old fool such as I am,' he said and tightened his embrace.

'May I see the bell?'

Severus started and pushed her away a little, so he could look at her face. His hair surrounded his face in a dishevelled black halo. His pale cheeks were slightly flushed. Even his lips had gained some colour from the fierceness of her kisses.

'If you think you can ... what is it that your contemporaries deign to call this again?' He faked a thoughtful expression, trailing his mouth with the tip of his right index-finger, while keeping a firm hold of her back with his left hand. '... if you think you can, as they say, 'snog me senseless' in order to lure me into inappropriate concessions, you are sorely mistaken, Hermione.'

'If that's what you think this was about, then...' Hermione started indignantly.

'Hush,' he murmured. 'I know it was not, silly. It seems I still need to adapt to your straightforward style of conversation.' Severus sighed. 'To answer your question: I don't have the bell. I ensured that it will remain silent, that it doesn't pose a danger to anyone at the moment. Then I returned it to Alina.'

Hermione frowned. 'But why did you do that? If it's that dangerous ...'

'As you very correctly observed, necromancy is tied to blood. The Room of Requirement could give that bell to Alina only because it is tied to her blood. While I could wield it if I must, it is not my place to do so.'

'But...' Hermione's mind was reeling with the consequences that calm statement entailed. 'But,' she whispered, 'that would mean Alina's father was at Hogwarts once!'

oooOooo

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oooOooo

79. Mistakes and Consequences

'Ginny, what's wrong?' Hermione's week had been trying to put things mildly.

The incident with the bell on Wednesday had left Slytherin House in a turmoil. Her husband's temper had been horrible since then, although he had taken pains to be civil with her.

Alina in particular was completely rattled, not that anyone could blame her. But discovering just how terrifying it could be to have a jumpy and unfocused First Year in a Potions classroom had not been a good experience. Hermione simply didn't understand. Of course it had been a shocking discovery for Alina, but normally Hermione would have expected the girl to react differently – to take the revelation of a special talent in stride, even if it was such a dangerous ability as Necromancy. Furthermore, Hermione knew that Severus had been quite lenient with Alina; he had not even detracted House points for that mishap and merely given her detentions so she could learn just how dangerous the situation had been.

And now Ginny was moping over her tea with an expression better suited for a funeral than for a comfortable Saturday evening spent with a good friend. Ginny grimaced and continued to stir her tea in morose silence.

'Ginny. Please. Tell me what's wrong. I've been having a hard week. I can't take this silent sulking another second.'

'What's been going on?' Ginny asked, fidgeting in obvious discomfort. 'Uhh...you would tell me if you were uh...angry at me, wouldn't you?'

Hermione stared at her friend. A headache was beginning to throb at her temples. She inhaled deeply and forced herself to remain patient.

'Why,' she asked carefully, 'should I be angry at you?'

'Well...' Ginny stammered. 'I – actually – the whole school, I guess, couldn't help noticing – well ... Professor Snape has been in a rare mood this week, and all of the Slytherins have been kind of tense and jumpy.'

'Yes, I guess that's true. But pardon my confusion,' Hermione frowned,'what has that to do with you?'

'I'm afraid that I've made a horrible, horrible mistake. And I've promised not to tell anyone about it, but...'

'If you have promised not to tell anyone about it, Ginny, then why are you talking to me now?'

Ginny took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on her mug. 'Because I can't stand seeing Alina so scared and – and – confused – and it's all my fault.'

'How is that your fault?' Hermione wanted to groan. They had tried to keep the incident from getting out. But apparently there was no way to keep anything at Hogwarts a secret.

'Well,' the words rushed out of Ginny's mouth, 'because I knew about the punishment and I was there and I did nothing to stop it and I should have gone to Professor Snape right away or to Professor McGonagall, but I wanted so badly to show the Slytherins that we can respect them and ... and ...' Ginny's voice faded to a despairing whisper. 'And all I did was let Alina down.'

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again.

'Ginevra Weasley,' she said, her tone threatening. 'What are you talking about? I suggest you start at the beginning and leave nothing out.'

oooOooo

'They did what?'

Hermione was almost grateful to see how shocked her husband appeared. After listening to Ginny, Hermione hadn't been completely sure how Severus would react. From what Ginny had told her, the way Alina's punishment had been doled out – with the miscreant being forced to actually ask for the punishment and the manner of the punishment both physical and painful – was true to the most ancient Slytherin traditions.

'They charmed Alina's wand to beat her up,' Hermione repeated. 'Apparently the Prefects came to the conclusion that Crookshanks' escape and the disgrace of having to ask the other Houses for help was all Alina's fault and that she deserved to be punished for her negligence.

'Ginny guessed that they would do something to Alina and blackmailed Vaisey into including her in the proceedings, so she could keep things from getting out of hand.

'They used an exercise that Professor Weasley introduced for his Third Years this term. An exercise to get the students to react quicker to Expelliarmus and other wand-affecting curses. I'm not sure why they used the shackles,' Hermione shrugged uncomfortably, 'maybe simply because they were there.'

'Severus, I never told her not to let Crookshanks outside!' she pleaded. 'You were there, I only asked her to watch him!'

Severus stared at her wordlessly. A vein was beginning throb at his temple, betraying just how angry he was.

'Bloody fucking hell,' he ground out between clenched teeth. 'The moment you turn your back on those little snakes, they bite where it hurts the most. Damn, and damn, and damn again.' He balled his right hand into a fist and beat it soundly on the table, fury and frustration flashing in his eyes. Then he slumped down in his chair, clenching and unclenching his fists. At last Severus took a deep breath. To watch him regain some measure of control was like seeing him slip on a mask, a harsh and expressionless mask that hid his real feelings completely.

'Hermione...' His voice was very serious as he implored her. 'You must believe me when I tell you that I do not approve of this.

'In-House punishment – punishment administered by Prefects and older students – has a long tradition in Slytherin House.'

'Everything for honour,' he spat bitterly. 'And everything that occurs inside Slytherin House stays inside Slytherin House. You have no idea how some Slytherin families treat their children. Their own children.'

He rose to his feet. 'Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. Now I must go and discuss this incident with the Headmistress.' A pause. 'Hermione, I hope you are aware of the fact that there will be disciplinary consequences for Miss Weasley as well.'

Only when Hermione nodded, Severus spun on his heel and exited the room.

oooOooo

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oooOooo

80. Few and Far Between

'Alina is a what?' Lois stared at Hermione, her dark-brown eyes wide and shocked.

Snape was struck by how much like her daughter Lois looked. Alina seemed to get her looks wholly from her mother ... and her talents just as completely from her elusive father.

It had been decided to keep the incident with the bell quiet, but of course Alina's mother had to be informed.

Right now tea was growing cold in their cups and the warm sunshine of the afternoon was overshadowed by the topic of their conversation. Severus glanced at Hermione, who had unobtrusively taken Lois' hand in a gesture of physical reassurance. Uncomfortable as this conversation was going to be, he was grateful that his wife was present. Her friendship with Lois would ease the difficult discussion considerably.

'A Necromancer.

'A Necromancer is someone who has a special affinity for Death Magic. Necromancers are able to enter the Realm of Death. They have the power to raise beings and persons from the outer precincts of Death or to bind and banish them into Death, usually by wielding seven magical bells. It is an innate magical talent,' Severus explained. 'While all wizards can learn certain necromantic spells, only a Necromancer has power in the Realm Death. There are two kinds of Necromancers – those with the power to raise the dead, and those with the power to bind them. At the moment we cannot be sure yet which of these powers Alina will develop. Time will tell.'

Severus noticed the bright gleam in his wife's eyes that betrayed how questions and connections formed lightning-quick in their brown warmth. The conversation with Lois Petrel would likely not remain the only uncomfortable discussion that day.

He took a deep breath and went on, 'Alina will need to be taught how to control her powers, and eventually she will need to be registered as a Necromancer with the Ministry of Magic. Lois – I cannot make light of this. Necromancy is an extremely dark and dangerous talent. It might be very helpful if we knew who Alina's father was.'

'Oh God,' Lois whispered. 'But I can't tell you. I explained it to Headmistress McGonagall when she first came to visit me. He told me his name was Prosper Reagan. But that was not his real name ...' She went on to outline the circumstances of Alina's birth. When she had finished, the room was quiet for a long moment.

Snape had expected some sad and sordid story, of course. But this subtle and unconscionable exploitation of a young girl's infatuation left him unexpectedly sickened.

'Maybe he modified her memory?' Hermione suggested.

Severus shook his head. 'I doubt it. From what Lois describes, he cast spells only on himself, not on her or any other Muggles. Very clever.' Turning to Lois, he explained, 'If he had used magic on you directly, our authorities would have been alerted sooner or later. Or at the very least we could use magic on you now to reveal his identity. I would still ask you to let us try. If your memory has been tampered with, we should be able to detect the intrusion and possibly rectify it. But as I said, I doubt it.

'Now – I have secured Alina's bell. She will not be able to ring it again, not by choice or by accident. For the time being, I don't think that the Necromancy will have any impact on her development or her education.'

Severus straightened and his mouth thinned.

'Unfortunately, there is another unpleasant matter we need to discuss today,' he announced wearily. 'I have to inform you that students from her own House decided to "punish" Alina for a trivial negligence in an inappropriate and unsanctioned way, and – as I might add – against my explicit instructions concerning such matters. I regret that something like that could happen in Slytherin House at this point in time and I can assure you that the offenders have been dealt with to the full extent of my disciplinary competences.'

oooOooo

'... I see,' Lois said. 'What has been done?'

'The Prefects have been stripped of their privileges. For the rest of the term the Prefects of the Houses Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will take over their duties. Any point the relevant students ever earned for their House has been subtracted, bringing the sum of House points for Slytherin House down to zero for the rest of the term. Ginevra Weasley lost 100 House points and "won" weekly detentions until graduation.'

'I see,' Lois repeated.

Hermione suppressed a sigh. Lois would never truly understand. How could she?

Slytherin House was in a state of hysteria, the rest of Hogwarts was little better. No one had ever known Professor Snape to subtract more than a grudging handful of points from his own students – no matter what they did. The episode with the emerald that had been broken to take away a mere ¼ point from Slytherin House was the stuff of legends.

And now the Head of Slytherin House had eliminated any chance of his own House at winning the coveted House Cup?

The shock was so profound that there was almost no gloating directed at the Slytherin misfortune.

'Is it possible that I talk with Alina alone?' Lois asked.

Severus nodded curtly. 'Of course. I will go and get her.'

oooOooo

'I'm so sorry, Lois.'

Her friend stared at her, the effort it cost her to keep calm visible on her face and in her tense posture.

'It's not your fault, Hermione. Or even Severus' fault. He didn't create those Slytherin traditions. And I am sure he did his best to curb them. 'There are bullies at every school. Do you think I don't know that? I've been treating the victims of bullies in my therapy sessions for years! And trust me, teachers like Severus, who admit that something went wrong, who don't just look the other way and pretend that everything is all right, are few and far between.'

oooOooo

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NOTES

Banner

The banner is based on CC Attribution/NonCommerical licenced pictures by cambiodefractal and on CC Attribution pictures by "Drawings Of Light – Paul" and i.m.indraneel. The face of my Hermione belongs to Minnie Driver.

FAQ

See Part 1.

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Blossom of Magic

Labyrinths – mazes have always been regarded as places of power and introspection and they have always been important in mythology and religion. Information about mazes, including the labyrinth of Chartres may be found here: http://mymaze.de/home_e.htm

A visualisation is presented here: http://www.mymaze.de/gotisch_english.htm

The 'blossom of magic' is my own invention, but I think it matches the Pagan interpretation of the concept of mazes. The six petal rose at the centre of the Chartres labyrinth is an ancient alchemical symbol, by the way, which might add to its appeal for Snape.

The blessing – The blessing is a mixture of a Catholic wedding blessing I found online at the The Catholic Doors Ministry and the Aaronitic blessing.

The quote... The Orson Welles quote is from his last movie 'F for Fake'.

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Discoveries

Abbé Absolon – Absolon means 'my Father is peace'.

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Due Punishment

'compedio' means 'I put on shackles (on someone) '. 'Pulta! ' means 'wallop!/flog!'.

Even at 'harmless' Muggle boarding schools traditions of hazing and punishment among students can be incredibly cruel and harsh in real life. JKR chose to ignore that dark part of public school tradition; I decided against that. While I obviously don't subscribe to an interpretation of Slytherin House as Evil with a capital 'E', I also don't believe that it is a perfect place full of happiness and cuddliness and that all evil Slytherins are just poor, misunderstood witches and wizards. The effect of shock (and, hopefully, revulsion) of this chapter is quite intentional.

As for Ginny ... even the best of us sometimes make awful mistakes, sadly. In this case, I believe the old addage of 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' applies.

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Sleepbringer

The bell 'Ranna' along with that particular concept of Necromancy is taken from the 'Abhorsen'-trilogy by Garth Nix. 'Somnifer' is Latin for 'Sleepbringer'.

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How Can You Still Touch Me?

Necromancy in the HP universe: The basic idea is that while everyone can learn some kind of death magic (as we all know from canon), there are only a very few Necromancers who have magical powers even in the Realm of Death (and yes, that's a hint about what else is going to happen). Of Necromancers there are two kinds, those who raise the dead and demonic beings, and those who bind and banish them. Severus belongs to the latter kind (obviously – or what do you think Voldemort would have had him do?). I think that this twist explains why Voldemort accepted Severus' return to his side so easily. Necromancy is regarded as evil magic. Period. And Voldemort would have wanted both to exploit Severus' talents and to keep an eye on him at the same time. Against Voldemort himself Severus' talents were useless because of the Horcruxes. I hope my line of thought makes sense.