Four

By the next afternoon, Severus had regained his control and repaired the painting. Albus wasn't in it.

It had been almost a year since he had slipped like that, flying into a rage and taunting Potter as he ran to the Forest like the coward he had been that night. Then, it had been humiliating: a reminder that without his masters, he had no control over himself.

Last night, though, had been liberating. Being angry on someone else's behalf was certainly different from losing his temper over wounded pride. It was a rush that had fueled a full night's worth of research.

Books were stacked high around the room and parchment covered his desk. His once-empty office no longer echoed every sound. He couldn't check on Miss Granger until after the staff meeting tonight, but he had used the time he had today to begin categorizing his notes on Animus Exuro and anything else he could think of.

Nobody had ever survived Animus Exuro; according to his research, very few lived six weeks past being dosed. But not much had been tried to counteract the potion either, and he wasn't one of the highest regarded Potions experts in Britain for nothing.

Few of the ingredients had true antidotes, but several could be suppressed long enough for him to experiment and brew treatment for the Animus. The ingredients he needed were rare and pricey; one could only be useful if harvested during the rise of a full moon on an equinox. He would have to go to the Potions storeroom for some of them and sneak them out from under Slughorn's fat nose.

Stealing from the Potions stores to save the life of his Potions storeroom thief...the humor, grim though it was, was not lost on him.

He would need to analyze her blood first and test the makeup of the potion, as well as potential antidotes. Several samples would be best, though he would, of course, need to take such samples carefully. Miss Granger had lost a lot of weight and likely a lot of blood. Losing even the blood tainted with the magic of Animus could be problematic for the girl.

The day passed too slowly for his taste. More than once, he stared at the beaten, worn out watch on his left wrist just to prove to himself that time was, in fact, moving. Each glance at the dull face burned in his mind...surely more time had passed.

It felt as though ten days had gone by before Severus found himself striding into the staff meeting, long robes whipping behind him. Murmured greetings reached his ears, but he returned them with silence. The less he participated, the less he encouraged them, the faster this would end.

The room stilled as he pulled back his chair and sat down. Though the Carrows technically shared the position of Deputy, it was Minerva who had parchment and quill charmed and ready to record the meeting.

"I have little business for you tonight, only reminders. First, on each Saturday evening, each professor is to submit a full report of the students he or she has given detention in the previous week. As a whole, your adherence to this part of your jobs has been, at best, disastrous this year. You are to include the student's name, offense, and manner of discipline."

Alecto managed to contain her shock at the admonishment, though her brother could not.

"How're we supposed t'keep up wit' this rabble, hmm?" the man sputtered. "I'm havin' t'give out detentions right 'n' left in me classes. There be no way to keep track!"

"Really, Amycus? I have had fewer disciplinary issues in my classes than in any year I can remember," Pomona said, grey curls bouncing as she turned to face her coworker.

Flitwick's squeaky voice cut in just as Alecto drew breath to defend her brother. "There are several charms which could work well to automatically record the information you need. If you combine them appropriately, the charms could even rate and record the severity of the student's offense and create a cumulative system in which the behavior of individual students could be tracked over time. The incantation begins with..."

"After the meeting, Filius. We have other business," interrupted Severus. If he had not cut the small wizard off, they would have sat through a full history of the charm, its variations, and other trivial information. Flitwick's intervention had been timely, but it did not take long for Severus to grow exasperated with him.

"Yes, Headmaster, of course."

"Secondly, the Wizarding Examinations Authority has requested that each Head of House submit a full roster of students taking the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations by the end of next week. Their lists have not been able to keep up with the recent changes in enrollment."

Severus looked around the table to meet the eyes of each Head of House. Slughorn gave him a resigned nod; Filius nodded enthusiastically enough that the long-legged chair he sat in wobbled. Pomona smiled.

Minerva held his gaze without moving for a full five ticks of his watch's second hand, then looked down briefly. That would be good enough for the moment.

"Excellent. My final piece of business is to remind professors that a representative from the Ministry will be attending and reviewing classes to ensure that you have kept your curriculum within the guidelines set forth by the Ministry and myself. The visits will occur without warning. Do not disgrace yourselves or this school."

A round of nods acknowledged the warning in his voice. Several faces even appeared to be somewhat grateful, notably Sybill's.

A grimace set on Severus's lips. "With that settled, if any of you have new business to discuss, this is your time to speak." Severus was always reluctant to open the floor for fear of Carrow stupidity occupying the remainder of the evening.

Tonight, however, brother and sister were silent. It was, surprisingly, Firenze who spoke up.

"Headmaster, I have business."

Curious, Severus waved him to continue.

"During my nightly study of the heavens, there were anomalies which puzzle me. Together, they seem to indicate that the date of completion for the continued war has changed again. The stars continue to hide the date, but the most recent movements imply that there are actions to be taken soon which carry such influence that they could decide the battle before it begins. It seems that uncertainty over the wellbeing of a major player has obscured the path."

"Damn horse," muttered a Carrow. Severus could not decide which and honestly did not care. What little patience he had for centaur nonsense was surely in short supply this night; only a genuine interest in the wellbeing of a certain "major player" kept him listening.

Firenze's nostrils flared, but he carried on. "Headmaster, I have reason to believe that a woman born under Mercury is the key finalizing the date of the war's end."

"Ah, but I have seen this as well!" Sybill exclaimed, her breathy, alcohol-scented voice wavering with excitement. "A woman born under Mercury always carries great influence in times such as these! Her determination and loyalty! Her courage and intelligence! There is one at the center of these times, though clouded by the fickleness of the Sight!"

"Perhaps your Inner Eye would be a mite more reliable if you stopped poisoning it with cooking sherry, Sybill," snapped Minerva.

"It seems we have strayed from the business at hand," Severus said coldly, drowning out Sybill's outrage. "If we have nothing more to discuss than vague inclinations about the future, I believe that we have a school to run." He stood, the chair scraping and groaning. "Dismissed."

With Firenze's warnings clamoring in his mind, Severus strode from the room as quickly as possible. A woman born under Mercury. Granger was born in September; that he knew. And her wellbeing was certainly under question.

It did not take him long to prepare to leave once he returned to the Headmaster's office, but, as he stood in front of the fireplace, Severus had trouble calling enough courage and grim determination to continue into the Floo.

Knowing the challenge he faced in Miss Granger's body both comforted and disquieted him. It was like standing before the Dark Lord, a known entity with the full capacity to turn on him in an instant. This potion, this Animus Exuro, was something he knew quite well, but part of knowing it was knowing that he could very well fail.

"You will not be able to help her from here, my boy," Phineas Black murmured in his wheezing voice.

"Of course not," Severus replied. He tossed the Floo Powder into the flames and stepped onto the hearth.

Severus took a deep breath as he examined her skin. The Stasis Charm was keeping the potion from spreading for the time being, and he had no idea how quickly it would spread once it broke.

He sighed. She had to be woken. He couldn't treat her without knowing how badly her magic and mind had deteriorated so far, and he could not quite bring himself to draw blood without her consent.

She had said that the spell would break with his speaking her name. He hoped that a half-dead girl and a house-elf had managed not to bungle that spell.

Severus stepped back from the bed, watching the young woman intently.

"Miss Granger," he murmured.

No movement.

"Miss Granger."

Nothing.

"Hermione?"

She still wasn't waking.

What was her middle name? He thought it might be Jane. Why hadn't he looked this up before coming here? He was usually so thorough when it came to research.

"Hermione Jane Granger."

He watched, frozen in place as he waited for a change. When none came, he turned and began to pace. What if the Stasis Charm hadn't slowed progress enough and she would never regain consciousness? What if she had miscast the Charm and made it permanent?

Severus ran his long fingers through his hair and stared at the wall. It seemed too soon, but if she had already passed into the final stage, he would have to inform Arthur.

A brief burning sensation hit him in the neck. "Don't take another step."

Her voice, no more than a choked whisper, was much more commanding and authoritative than he'd remembered. Grown up, even.

"Drop your wand and turn around."

His wand clattered to the floor as he turned around slowly. "Good evening, Miss Granger," Severus said calmly, hoping to reassure her.

The little witch was standing beside the bed, her wand aimed at his chest and a determined expression on her face that almost masked the tremors that ran through her body. "Tell me something only Professor Snape would know." Impertinent, but he understood the paranoia, had lived it time and time again.

"I taught you Potions for five years and have always believed you to be a showy know-it-all with a penchant for asking incessant questions and overstepping your place in my classroom."

The grip on her wand tightened and the slightest hint of red light sparked from the tip. "True enough, but anybody would know that, Professor. Try again, but this time, make it count. You won't get another chance."

"Good girl," he murmured. The sparks brightened at the surely unexpected compliment, and he hastened to set her mind at ease. "In your first year, you set fire to my cloak. In your second, you solved the mystery of the basilisk." The look on her face had softened slightly, but he continued. "Third year, you hexed me in the Shrieking Shack. The next year, I teased you about your overly large front teeth. In your fifth, you led Dolores Umbridge into the Forbidden into the herd of centaurs." The corner of his mouth slipped upwards. Watching Umbridge twitch at the sound of hooves was a very fond memory. "And last year, Miss Granger, I found Cormac McLaggen with his hands hexed together after Slughorn's Christmas party. Does that suffice?"

Her wand lowered as relief washed over her face. He tried not to think about what it meant that she was more afraid of a stranger than the man she knew had killed Albus Dumbledore. "I don't know anything about that last one, Professor."

"I'm sure you don't," he said, watching her closely. From the way her eyes lowered and the shy smile pulling at her mouth, she should have been blushing. Even in the dim light, he could see that her cheeks weren't turning pink, but silver.

Her shoulders were shaking. She had to be cold, standing there in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn't be able to stand for much longer, and she really needed to be warm. And he really didn't need to be standing in the room with a half-naked student.

"Miss Granger, if I have proven my identity to your satisfaction, I believe it would be best for you to sit down and cover up. You are overtaxing yourself."

A shiver of relief shook through her body as she sat on the edge of the bed. She weakly pulled the thin blanket over her shoulders. Her eyelids were drooping and her body hunched, but she held out an arm to examine herself. "You were able heal the cuts?"

"Yes."

"You left the boils. They were mostly healed, and I assume you didn't want to chance a reaction in mixing healings. Treatment for exposure to the Cruciatus Curse would be difficult alone, so no need to risk it."

Her mind hadn't been affected yet, then. She was definitely tired and certainly rambling, but she was thinking as reasonably and excessively as before. "Very good so far, Miss Granger."

She laughed weakly, the dry husk of her voice harsh. "That was the easy part, of course. The silver veins I cannot account for. It's like some of my blood has changed into a weird potion or something." She looked at him, the question written plainly across her face.

"A sound deduction." Severus returned her look as evenly as he could. "The blade Bellatrix cut you with was enchanted to release a magical agent into your bloodstream. It reacts with your blood to make a potion similar to the Animus Exuro." He paused to watch her, half hoping that she knew what it was and that he wouldn't have to explain.

He was not disappointed. She had always been his best student.

"Animus Exuro, the Soul-Burner." She stared at the floor with empty eyes, her words textbook perfect. "A misnomer, as the potion burns not the soul but the affected wizard's mental and magical control. The name likely finds root in a misunderstanding of the symptoms; the victim will eventually resemble a recipient of a Dementor's Kiss."

He took a step toward the bed and stopped. Who was he to comfort a dying girl? Lestrange would have never pulled off an enchantment strong enough for that knife if it weren't for him. He carried her blood on his hands.

Her body was shaking again, convulsing with dry sobs. The blanket had slipped from her shoulders, and she began to shiver with the cold. He couldn't abide that. Severus walked to her side, careful to move slowly. He replaced the blanket and smoothed out the bedsheets. In a moment he would later view as a display of sheer insanity, he sat down next to her, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

She looked up at him after a moment, all trembling lips and red eyes and grim Gryffindor determination. He could see her staring at him even as his hair half-hid her from sight.

"I don't have a lot of time, do I, Professor?"

"No, Miss Granger, you do not," he murmured in reply.

She was leaning against him now; she was probably unable to support herself. He shifted, uncomfortable with the contact. Severus turned to look down at her shivering frame.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, looking straight ahead.

She should be afraid. "I need to take a sample of your blood, Miss Granger."

"There is no cure, Professor Snape. You know that."

"I'm hoping to slow the effects long enough for you to continue helping Mr. Potter."

"They don't need to see me like this."

"No, but they do need to see you. Hold out your arm."

He touched his wand to a thick silver line, slicing the skin with the slightest magical force. The silver-blue potion trickled out into a small flask from his robes. They both watched the thick liquid as it filled the container.

"You need to sleep, Miss Granger."

"I know."

"Perhaps you should lay down, then?"

"Perhaps."

She made no move to lay down, simply continuing to stare at her arm.

He stood up, tucking the vial of her blood...his potion...into his robes. "Miss Granger?"

Slowly, she turned her face to his. "Yes, Professor?"

"Lay down. Go to sleep."

Her movements were halting and uncomfortable to watch, but Severus did not move to help her. There would be time enough for that later; she needed to savor this independence while she had it.

She pulled her body up on the bed and rolled on her side so she could see him. The nightshirt left her legs bare to his sight; there were scars and bruises there too, but he did not see the discoloration of the Animus Exuro yet.

"My middle name is Jean, Professor," she said just as he began to turn.

"I know that, Miss Granger."

"You called me Hermione Jane Granger, Professor Snape. I do not share a name with the despicable Madame Umbridge."

He laughed, the sound hollow in the sick feeling room. The majority of the stench had been cleaned away and breaking the stasis spell had broken the cold atmosphere, but the one particularly offensive smell remained. It was the potion; he knew that now. It made the room feel like the tomb it was and even his short, humorless laugh seemed out of place in such a death-painted place.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger. I misspoke."

"Of course, Professor."

"I will return as soon as I can. Will you be requiring anything? Clothes, food, toiletries?"

"Kreacher will take care of those things, thank you."

"Of course, Miss Granger."

He turned to leave, the sight of her pale, weary face too much for the night.

"Professor?"

Severus kept his face toward the door. He would not turn around.

"I should not have been surprised that you came to help. I am sorry that I doubted you were on our side. You are a much better man than any of us gave you credit for, and you did not have to do this for me. Thank you." The words came out in a strained whisper, but Severus cherished each one as though it were a sermon shouted from the mountains.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger."

He left the room and the house, her words ringing in his head.