Pieces of the Puzzle

A/N's

Capere – Latin: capture (on-line translator)

Somnus – the Roman god of sleep

Pripyat – a city near the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, northern Ukraine. In 1986, the city was abandoned after Chernobyl's reactor 4 suffered a series of catastrophic explosions in its core.

Golem: an animated human-like being created from inanimate matter. I have borrowed the concept from Jewish folklore and elaborated on it with the use of five elements (metal being contained in blood) in its creation.

Fred Brophy's boxing tent – the last travelling boxing troupe in Australia and reportedly the world (the sport was supposedly banned in 1971, but not everybody took a great deal of notice).

Pugsley Addams is the property of the cartoonist Charles Addams, and I make no profit from his character.

Canon characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, and I make no money from them.

Historical thanks to Justice, who beta'd this chapter long ago. Present-day thanks to TeaOli for giving this chapter a thorough dusting and polishing.

---

On the outskirts of the "ghost city", Arawn stood and listened as the crack of his Apparition echoed back from deserted buildings and empty streets, eventually dying in the cold, still air.

Having made certain that he was alone, he crossed a rust-stained bridge leading into the city. Muggles called it the "Bridge of Death", in honour of those who stopped to watch a nuclear disaster unfold and were fatally dosed with radiation. In the distance, the hulk of reactor number four presided over the abandoned city of Pripyat.

He paused in the empty square in front of what had been a gymnasium and waited. From the unglazed windows, a Dementor drifted down to meet him. "All is in order?" he asked.

The Dementor inclined its head.

"Good. Assemble them." The Dementor turned back to the empty building and vanished within its shadows. Arawn followed a short time later. He climbed a flight of stairs to a musty room where people had once practised floor routines. A rotting pommel horse occupied one corner, and the floor was strewn with the remains of exercise mats, rodent nests, and bird droppings.

Huddled together, their eyes bright with fear and restrained rebellion, a small band of Death Eaters watched him furtively. Arawn counted fifteen of them as he paced silently before the group. In terms of what was needed, he was sure their combined experience would be sufficient. One Death Eater broke the silence abruptly.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Arawn turned to face the questioner, holding up one hand as a Dementor advanced.

The creature halted, but did not back down.

"Original questions, applicable to many situations," Arawn responded. "Luckily for you, Travers, I already intended to answer the second question." He addressed the Dementor out loud. "These will serve our purposes. Use the others as you will."

The Death Eaters watched as the Dementor moved to the centre of the floor. From doors at the far end, a small army of the creatures appeared. They clustered together for a moment before leaving the building.

"Before you even consider trying anything..." Arawn pointed upwards. More Dementors hovered among the massive steel girders supporting the roof. "We require your assistance in reaching our goal. We only needed one of your associates. One in particular. But it seems he is... unreachable. We find we cannot access what we need without him."

Amycus Carrow licked his lips nervously. "One of our associates? Who? And what do we get in return?"

"Severus Snape." Arawn waited for the murmur of surprise to die down. Amongst it, he caught the words "traitor" and "half-blood." A wave of hatred emanated from the group. It appears they have the necessary motivation, he thought. "In return for him, your lives."

The Dementor's voice ran cold through his mind. They have hatred. They have desperation. It consumes them. They will serve our need.

"What do you think he means by 'we'?" Alecto hissed, tweaking her brother's arm to get his attention.

In spite of his confidence in his ability to bargain his way out of any situation, Amycus felt a deep sense of foreboding as he looked around the derelict gymnasium. Hidden behind him, his sister prodded him impatiently. He half-turned and gave a barely audible answer, indicating the girders with an upward flick of his eyes. "I think he means them."

---

Severus had witnessed many fights between his parents. Over time, he had realised their quarrels were, for the most part, not his fault – but this knowledge did not bring him the slightest bit of comfort. When his instincts for self preservation began to tell him to fight back or to run – to defend himself overtly or deploy a stealthy hex, he had done so with the feeling someone had poured molten lead into his heart. At least, he had until his grief gave way to anger – and his anger settled into a relentless, seething hatred.

They were fighting again – but this time it was very different. Toby was pinned to the wall, which did not stop him struggling. He was shouting, but not a sound could be heard. Severus realised his father was not so much shouting as screaming, his protests muffled by a Silencing Charm.

Looking to his mother, Severus froze in astonishment. Eileen was using her magic, wielding it with skill and precision – without the use of a wand. It poured out of her in a torrent of white-hot power, pulsing with indomitable vitality. Her black eyes flashed fire, and her lank hair stirred with every movement – and she moved with the grace of a dancer. He stared at her, transfixed. As she was in that moment, Eileen Snape was beautiful.

"Are you going to listen, or do I have to give you another taste of what I can really do?" Eileen eyed her husband ferociously.

Toby clenched his teeth and shut his eyes.

"Imperio! Open your eyes, fool. This is bigger than both of us. Did you think I hadn't noticed when you took the Llygad y Ddraig from its hiding place? Did you think you would be safe wandering around the streets with it when the Dark Lord's spies are watching? I made sure you would be, though not from any concern for you! They never suspected a drunken lout of a Muggle might bear something of value and power. The Llygad was, is, and will be, relatively safe with – of all beings on Earth – your sterling self."

Eileen allowed her words to sink in before continuing in tones of hushed urgency. "Listen well, Toby. There are wizards and witches on their way here tonight, with powers and intentions more terrible than even I can imagine. I have seen them. They already have Severus.

"Oh, don't worry," she snapped sarcastically. "They haven't hurt him. Yet. He's one of them... until his Dark Lord has no further use for him. Severus must never take the Llygad y Ddraig. Do not ask why. Not that you can," she smirked. "Thankfully, he is not with those who are coming for us."

Her eyes grew cold and hard. "My brother died to keep the Llygad safe from those who would use it to work evil, and they will work evil on a scale not seen in this country since the days of Vortigern. It is likely that I will soon follow my brother through the Veil. For my weakness I must pay a high price, but I will pay it willingly. You, on the other hand, have a chance.

"Thanks to a deception arranged by my brother, the Dark Lord's servants will not even think to look for the Llygad. Until now, I have cast charms on you every day to shield it from perception and to make you forget you had it. Don't look so frightened, Toby. You would have exchanged it for your precious drink if you had remembered, wouldn't you?"

Eileen turned from him, her next words tinged with sadness. "I wish the thing never existed. Toby, this is the last time I can conceal the Llygad – and you. After tonight, you will be on your own. Take the Llygad and get as far away from here as you can. The charms I have cast will last a night and a day. After the charms have faded, anyone with magic in their blood will sense the Llygad's presence, and they will investigate.

"What fate awaits the Llygad, I could not see; nor could I see a place in this land where you will find refuge. You must travel far over the sea. There will come a time when you will be discovered, but the outcome was not revealed." With a wave of her hand, Toby's slipshod clothing was transfigured into sturdy outdoor apparel suitable for a traveller. "There is money and a passport in your jacket pocket. Stay away from the drink. Your life – and the lives of many others – now depends upon it." Eileen drew herself to her full height. "There is one more thing to be done."

Severus held his breath as Eileen began to chant. Even through the memory, he could feel the air of the room becoming painfully dry. Before the fireplace, a column of air thickened and swirled, shimmering like a heat haze. The pace of Eileen's chant quickened.

Droplets of moisture appeared in the column, coalescing until they formed a churning mass of water.

Eileen reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew a handful of soil. With a sharp exclamation, she threw it into the water, watching as it took on the consistency of thin mud.

She held up a splinter of wood. At a word, it ignited, and she sent it into the heart of the semi-liquid mess – which was beginning to take a human-like shape.

She levelled her gaze at Toby.

Severus shivered when she produced a razor-sharp, silver knife. At her wordless command, Toby helplessly extended his left arm, holding his hand palm-up with his fingers splayed. Eileen quickly slashed the pad of his thumb. Severus swore under his breath as he looked from his mother to his father. He knew only too well that fear could kill a man. It was a wonder that Toby had not died there and then. Eileen levitated nine drops of blood from the wound and sent them, one after the other, into the restless agglomeration of elements.

Severus watched breathlessly. He had a theoretical knowledge of golems, but had never watched one come into existence. The golem rippled and quivered, then settled into a convincing replication of flesh and blood. Eileen traced invisible symbols across its forehead, and the golem began to move. Severus jumped when his mother spoke again.

"Rennervate!" She glared at Toby contemptuously as he groggily regained consciousness. Severus realised his father had fainted when the golem turned into his doppelganger. With a few terse words, the golem was clothed and in position, sprawled upon the horsehair sofa in an apparent drunken stupor.

"Charming sight, aren't you?" Eileen sneered at her husband. Toby stared at the golem in blank-minded horror. For a moment, the silence was absolute. Severus heard a tap dripping, the soft creak of a floorboard settling in his parents' bedroom, a dog barking in the distance.

Eileen looked up suddenly, sensing something unseen. "They come." She released Toby, stepping out of the way as he fell to the floor. She seized a handful of his hair and dragged him to his feet. "Run, you idiot," she snarled as she shoved him towards the back door.

Severus stood in the tiny, overgrown yard behind the house as Toby skidded to a stop in front of the lean-to where he used to tinker with various mechanical projects. He darted inside and emerged with an oiled canvas tool bag. Severus knew its significance: the tools were bequeathed to Toby by his own father, weeks before a torpedo in the English Channel ensured he would never come home again. Toby fitted the strap across his chest and moved towards the back fence, diving behind a stack of wooden pallets and a mass of thistles as a blinding flash illuminated the windows of the house.

The memory became a chaotic jumble of noise, punctuated by the sound of blows, curses, hexes, and agonized screams. The back door opened, and two masked Death Eaters emerged. One of them walked around the yard and checked inside the lean-to.

"There's nothing here."

"I insist I heard something."

Toby didn't dare breathe. Beside him, something stirred. A rat scampered past and, sensing the proximity of a human, bolted into the open. A fierce word, a flash, and the rat exploded in a mist of blood and fur. One of the Death Eaters laughed.

"The fearless Malfoy, spooked by a rat," he chortled.

"Shut up, you mindless troglodyte! Or do you wish to be next? Come, we shall set the scene as a murder-suicide for the local Muggle news. Our Lord will alert the Aurors himself as to what really happened. He desires to rub their noses in their own incompetence."

"What about the half-blood?"

"Lucius will inform him of this evening's events. The Dark Lord will then test him. He may prove useful for other sundry tasks until such time as our Lord's plan is fulfilled. You, my imbecilic acquaintance, will leave him alone."

"What's so important about him? He's..."

"Perhaps you would like to raise your concerns with the Dark Lord himself? No? How unexpectedly intelligent."

The two returned to the house, still sniping at each other. Toby waited until silence and stillness prevailed. Slowly, he crept to the back fence and located a small doorway set low to the ground. In the days before plumbing and indoor lavatories, it allowed the "midnight mechanic" to collect his unenviable payload without entering the premises. Toby wriggled through into a back lane strewn with rubbish and broken glass. Getting to his feet, he began to run, pausing only once to be violently sick.

Severus frowned at the fractured quality of the next memories. Evidently, Tobias had come perilously close to losing his sanity. Only a few clear images could be discerned: hiding under a jetty, a barge on the Irwell, the soporific rhythm of train travel, the noise and bustle of Portsmouth. Eventually, the memories began to display logical coherence. The Muggle's resilience had prevailed – though his mind would certainly carry scars. Toby emerged from a Red Cross collection centre, having exchanged a pint of blood for a full stomach, and consulted a brochure with the word 'emigration' in the title.

---

The Dementor paused in its circumnavigation of St Mungo's. It sensed a fluctuation in the wards. It waited. The irregularity was minor but followed a predictable sequence. The Dementor turned to face its companion approaching from the opposite direction. The creatures exchanged information. The gap in the wards appeared again, and both Dementors slipped through unnoticed. They studied the hospital thoroughly, using sightless senses to form a map of the entire structure.

As a group of Healers headed eagerly for the tea-room, the grill covering a ventilation duct moved to one side. The Dementors entered the corridor and began to search. One picked up the trail very easily – having been fed a very specific memory, it could sense the target's proximity. Slipping into a stairwell, it waited out of sight for an opportunity to act.

The other scouted for potential prey, retreating into storage cupboards or alcoves at any sign of human activity. How far it had travelled was irrelevant, but in one particular place, the Dementor came to an abrupt halt.

It could sense power. A lot of power. It tasted the air. Power, fear, anger, grief. Irresistibly drawn to the source of these emanations, the Dementor floated to the ceiling and moved towards two warm bodies that would no doubt block its path if they detected its presence. In the Dementor's experience, prey never thought to look up when indoors.

The guard Aurors shivered as the unseen predator approached, and complained to each other about the cold. "I'll go and check the renewal schedule for the temperature charms," one of them said, embarking on a long trek to the end of the corridor.

The Dementor waited until the vibration of footsteps faded. With the chosen victim now suitably isolated, it attacked.

---

Severus broke contact. Only one thought slashed through his awareness – and it cut him to the heart. I never knew who she really was. She was a powerful witch and she did nothing...

He was vaguely aware of Kingsley and Oriens. Their concerned voices barely registered through the white noise in his thoughts and the pounding rush of blood in his ears. Someone touched his arm, but it felt distant and detached through his numb flesh. Shaking off the contact, he made for the door, thinking only of getting outside.

He reacted with reflex and instinct before he even processed the sight of the Auror's struggles, wordlessly blasting the attacking Dementor with a sudden pulse of infrasound. The creature writhed like a rag in a tempest as the energy slammed into it, hurling it back while the Auror sagged against the wall.

A badger Patronus charged past, following the direction in which the Dementor had been flung.

Severus heard Kingsley shouting orders. St Mungo's alarm system began to sound in a series of urgent chimes. Grim-faced Healers and ancillary staff hurried to their assigned emergency positions with wands drawn.

---

Hermione frowned at the small mountain of literature in her room. The treatises on Polyjuice Potion variants were often contradictory. After a mere several hours' worth of scrutiny, she scorned some of the proposed theories. She doubted they counted as 'theories' at all, given the lack of supporting analysis. Sorting her notes and tucking them under her arm, she checked the time. Motivated by a sudden inspiration, she decided to see if Professor Addams would allow her to test some of the more prominent 'theories' with a spot of experimental brewing. She also wanted to prove to Severus that she was not afraid of visiting the circumstances of past mistakes and re-working them into something useful.

Even before the war, the dungeons had been usually quiet, but now they held a sense of chastened introspection. A Slytherin prefect gave her a terse nod without meeting her eyes. He then appeared to rouse himself and formally asked if she required assistance. Hermione shook her head, unable to think of anything to say. It was an unusual feeling to be in Slytherin territory and remain unchallenged, unprovoked, and un-hexed. She made her way to the Potions classroom. The door stood ajar, allowing a pool of light to spill out onto the flagstones. Before Hermione could knock, a gruffly genial voice greeted her.

"Miss Granger, come on in. What's on your mind?"

Hermione grinned, then gasped as she entered the classroom. A cauldron sat heating on one of the front benches, with Neville and none other than Draco Malfoy in studious attendance. "Good evening Professor, Neville... Draco."

Draco barely looked at her, muttering something as he carefully shredded a small pile of mugwort.

Professor Addams sighed patiently. "Mr Malfoy, I thought you had agreed to assist in re-establishing goodwill towards Slytherin House."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir."

"Well, it seems to me that a glance and a mumble is no way to acknowledge a lady's presence."

Draco hesitantly raised his eyes. "Sir..."

"Mr Malfoy," Professor Addams urged, "the mugwort won't sprout legs and run away if you let it sit for a second or two."

Draco put his knife down and stiffly gathered what once was his dignity. "Good evening, Miss Granger," he said with a half-bow. He stood awkwardly. The haughty grace and disdainful bearing he had been raised to display seemed to have completely deserted him.

Hermione felt a wave of compassion. "Thank you, Draco. Please use my first name; it isn't as though we are strangers." She gave a warm smile as Draco suspiciously appraised her. He swallowed thickly and turned back to his mugwort. Professor Addams gave him a light pat on the back and gestured to Hermione to follow him into the office.

"Small steps, but significant ones," he said, offering her a chair. He levitated a child's puzzle book off the floor with a long-suffering grumble about kids leaving stuff everywhere. "My youngest was down here for a pre-nap visit," he explained with quiet affection.

Hermione smiled at the sight of the brightly coloured book now adorning the bookshelf – a sharp and lively contrast to the solemn bindings of scholarly volumes. "It is a surprise to see Neville and Draco working together. Do they get on?"

"They do, now that they've gotten past the walking-on-eggshells stage. I'm tackling two problems at once with that pair. So far, it's working out better than expected." He studied Hermione's expectant expression for a moment. "Oh, all right. Mr Longbottom needs to build some Potions muscle if he wants to make the most of his Herbology apprenticeship. Mr Malfoy could do his Potions lab-work at home, but I figured he'd be better off facing a few demons and maybe making some new friends instead of moping around on his own. Besides, he really needs to get away from his mom's apron strings – but you didn't hear that from me.

"He knows what he's doing in a laboratory and has a recently discovered talent for teaching: he's showing Mr Longbottom how to brew without the boom. In return, Mr Malfoy is now on conversational terms with a very generous and decent young man. I merely supervise and answer questions."

Professor Addams frowned appraisingly as he pocketed a pink-sequined Puffskein harness which had somehow become entangled with his quills. "Mr Malfoy believes all he has left in the world is the prospect of a completed education. He's not even sure he'll get a chance to use it. Your kind words to him just now did more good than he realises."

He eyed Hermione's bundle of notes with interest. "Okay, down to business. What have you discovered, and how do you propose to test it?"

---

Elated with the prospect of sharing supervised brewing sessions with Neville and Draco, Hermione hurried to see if Severus was in his rooms. Before she even reached the door, she knew Severus was not, as he put it, in the best frame of mind. The door's carved eagle faced the gallery with empty talons. He was not there.

Hermione almost ran back to the Gryffindor Tower, thinking hard as she dodged students and excused herself from potential conversations. Locking herself in and warding the door, she gave herself a moment to gather what was needed.

The first thing to do was easy. Water, a heating charm, and a spoonful of the Duboisia extract Severus had prepared for her. The second thing was a little daunting. Casting her Patronus was only part of it – she was not sure if she still had one. If she did, could it take a corporeal form? She knew Severus had used his Patronus to lead Harry to Godric Gryffindor's sword. Could she instruct her Patronus to find Severus, then come back and lead her to wherever he was?

Deep breath, relax, focus. She thought of how right she felt when Severus was with her, concentrating on the sense of wholeness and strength he brought to her war-buffeted soul. She allowed the feeling to intensify until it tingled in her blood and...

"Expecto Patronum!" A jet of silvery light poured out of her wand and swirled indistinctly for a moment. Hermione's heart pounded as she watched the light gather itself and circle the room. "Oh! Wings! You have wings," she called out to it excitedly.

Her new Patronus gained brightness and definition. With a squeak of delight, Hermione held out her arm, and a small falcon landed on her wrist. "Look at you," she breathed. "You're beautiful! You're... a merlin!" She had seen one of these compact, robust birds riding the breezes not far from the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had proudly told her there were two of them. He hoped they were a bonded pair, but hadn't managed to get close enough to tell. There was also one represented in a tapestry near Severus' rooms: a small hunting scene where humans mounted on unicorns rode side by side with centaurs. The humans were part of a royal family, judging by their dress and the fact that one carried an eagle on his arm – only kings could hunt with eagles. Behind him rode a young man with a peregrine falcon. Hermione assumed he was a prince. The prince appeared to be chatting up a laughing damsel with a merlin gripping her gauntleted wrist.

Chewing her lower lip, Hermione took her broom and checked outside. The Tower was empty of students. The evening meal would begin very soon. It seemed everyone had gone to the Great Hall to find their seats. She swiftly made her way downstairs, her merlin holding out its ethereal wings to keep its ethereal balance. She felt sure Severus would be somewhere outside.

Exiting the castle, she scrambled to the top of a low hill. "Well, here goes..." She held Severus' image in her mind, then visualised the merlin leading her to Severus. Concentrating intensely, she sent the images to her Patronus.

The merlin bobbed its head once and glared at her as though waiting for something.

"What?" she asked, wondering what else was required. Comprehension dawned. "Oh, I get it." She raised her arm and the merlin took flight. It soared high above the Great Hall and vanished behind the silhouettes of the towers.

After what seemed an eternity, her Patronus swooped towards her and executed an agile turn. As Hermione urged her broom aloft, her merlin streaked ahead and threw a barrel-roll, leading her to wonder if it was pleased to have her as a flying companion. She followed the glowing falcon across the grounds. The gloom of the Forbidden Forest loomed, and Hermione exhaled with relief when her Patronus banked gracefully to the right and began a descent over the lake. It flew low, swift, and straight, heading for...

"Dumbledore's tomb," Hermione muttered anxiously. The merlin settled on the edge of the tomb and shuffled its wings. Hermione achieved a perfect landing, for once, and propped her broom against a tree. "Severus?" She heard a sharp intake of breath and tracked its origin to the far side of the tomb.

She found her wizard sitting with his back against the cold marble. He raised his head as she approached, his obsidian eyes expressionless and frighteningly empty. Oh, Severus. She knelt in front of him and grasped his hands, apprehension fading as she realised he was not going to send her away. Deducing that no amount of questioning would draw him out of his internal fortress, she simply sat with him until he decided to move or speak.

It grew steadily colder. A mist formed over the lake and began to creep towards the shore, tumbling over itself in slow motion as it sent delicate tendrils through reeds and grasses.

"The merlin is yours?" Severus asked quietly. His voice seemed oddly disembodied from the rest of him.

Hermione squeezed his hands. "Yes, it is. My new Patronus is a merlin. Tonight was the first time I cast it since my otter faded. I wasn't sure if I still could – cast a Patronus, that is – let alone get it to lead me to you."

"There has been a veritable zoo of ethereal creatures arriving with messages. I thought Minerva only had three cats. She sent five of them. All at once."

"She is probably worried about you. Did any of them spray on the tomb?"

Severus gave a half-hearted snort. "Not that I am aware of." He stared out over the lake for a moment. "European otters are solitary creatures."

"Are they?" Hermione questioned, wondering what had brought this statement into the open. Ottery Street, she thought, considering the locale of the Weasley home. I wonder if that is what gave my first Patronus its shape. Or was it because I felt alone so much of the time – a solitary creature? Even with Ron, I felt... separate, different. I don't feel any of those things with Severus. She put the thought aside to consider at a later date. "I saw Molly Weasley today. She was visiting Ginny, and I ran into her unexpectedly."

"And?"

"She seemed to look past me, or through me, it was hard to tell. I've been avoiding her because of... you know. But I can see she is grieving for Fred, and she is frightened for George – Ginny says he hardly speaks anymore. I guess I am either persona non grata, or Molly has much more pressing things to worry about. Perhaps a bit of both." Hermione sighed. "I'd been expecting Howlers and all sorts of accusatory messages, but nothing ever happened."

"Nor should it." Severus closed his eyes. "I believe you made the right decision."

Hermione shifted to sit beside him, appropriating his arm and placing it over her shoulders so she could press close to his side. "So do I." The mist had crept almost to their feet, and the air was now damp and bitterly cold. Severus flexed his fingers as she cast a Warming Charm. He gazed at the sky and a gathering mass of cloud.

"I used Legilimency on him. I saw my mother the night she..." He shook his head. "I never knew who she really was. She was a powerful witch, and she never let me see it.

"Why didn't she use her power? She could have defended herself and... she could have... we could have... Why did she let everything collapse around her?"

Severus ground his teeth. "I suppose nothing mattered to her. Including me. I didn't matter here, either. I once thought that Hogwarts would provide a chance for me to belong somewhere and to build a better life after the lost cause that was Spinner's End. I simply found out how expendable I was – and that a person alone, without allies, is considered fair game for peoples' most vicious tendencies.

"People like... James... Potter and his verminous sidekicks. Oh, I had seen their ilk before. The salubrious surroundings of Spinner's End abounded with them. People who think they can get away with anything and everything. Especially when the object of their attention is someone who they believe has no place in the world and no right to exist. It appears my own mother had the same belief. Perhaps, in her opinion, I should never have been born."

Alarmed and dismayed, Hermione squeezed his thigh. "You matter to me. I cannot answer your questions, but I can promise you, you matter to me more than anyone else on Earth. Perhaps, if you will allow me, I can convince you that your are definitely not expendable and I consider your existence a blessing?" She fell silent as tears welled in her eyes.

Moving slowly, Severus took her hand and pressed each of her fingers to his lips.

Hermione felt wetness on his cheek as she turned his face towards hers. She studied him for a moment. "I think you need to sit before a good fire for a while. Sorry, I'm bossing you again, aren't I?"

Severus gave a barely perceptible nod, then glanced at her hesitantly. "Stay with me," he murmured, then hurriedly added, "I'm not asking you to... do anything... I..." He sighed and shook his head slightly, causing his hair to cover his eyes. "Never mind."

Hermione jostled him gently until he stood up. "I know. You don't have to explain," she said, taking his arm. "Shall we head back? I need to get my circulation moving, and you have been sitting there longer than I have." Together, they walked back to the castle, Hermione's broom hovering behind them.

As they passed through the Entrance Hall, Hermione spotted Minerva keeping vigil and signalled the Headmistress to remain silent. With a puzzled frown of concern, Minerva nodded reluctantly, her eyebrows nearly vanishing beneath the brim of her hat when she noticed their clasped hands.

So it is true, Minerva thought. Severus, you dark horse! Although, it does take two... She shrugged as she watched the couple until they passed through a doorway and out of sight. Two of Hogwarts' bravest and brightest.

---

In St Mungo's, everything was quiet. The night staff patrolled in pairs, exchanging purposeful glances with Aurors. After the expulsion of a Dementor, the protective wards had been examined and repaired. Nonetheless, everyone was on edge. They did not know their vigilance was justified. They had no idea two Dementors had gained access to the building.

The undiscovered creature emerged from its hiding place in the boiler-room, having found the stairwell distinctly uncomfortable when a hedgehog Patronus came dangerously close. The alarm chimes had irritated the Dementor beyond endurance, and it had fled to the bowels of the hospital. Keeping to the shadows, the Dementor scanned every corridor before passing along it.

It paused and sampled the air. Like motes of dust, it could taste the scattered relics of its evicted comrade's thwarted purpose. Something had been found. Something irresistible. Its original mission aborted for the moment, the Dementor followed the new trail. It probed a particularly powerful set of wards strung across a corridor. Warm bodies stood beyond, guarding the promising throb of power which lay behind a closed door.

The Dementor backtracked, pushing open a door to a bathroom. Drifting up to the ceiling, it examined an inspection hatch which provided access to the cavity between the ceiling and the floor of the next level.

---

Having consumed an entire pound of chocolate and enough tea to slake a camel's thirst, Toby could not decide whether he felt plausibly human again or slightly sick. At least his headache had eased, and his thoughts had ceased to flit around in uncontrollable random fragments.

"If yer bloody magic don't kill me, diabetes will," he growled, scrunching the chocolate wrapper into a ball and lobbing it into a waste-parchment basket at the other end of the room. He got up and collected the Llygad from where Severus had left it. "I 'aven't felt any urge to pick it up," he told Oriens. "I don't think I'd miss it if it were gone." He rubbed his thumb over the crystal disc. "What does this thing do, anyway? Eileen never said."

Oriens gave a silent prayer of thanks. Tobias was not about to succumb to his recent tribulations, physically or mentally. Buddha's Breakfast and Merlin's Muses! I knew Muggles could be tough, but he's in a league of his own. "I don't know, but it does contain a tremendous source of power. Hence we must keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

"Like that bloke you mentioned... What's 'is name...? Arawn?"

Oriens nodded. "If Severus can find out what the Llygad actually is, we may be able to discern its use. From there, we can take an educated guess at to what Arawn wants with its companion piece in the vaults. Though Severus did say the two were different in some way."

"Eileen only ever mentioned one – this one. Two of 'em?" Toby scowled as he tried to force his mind into some form of order, with transitory success. "God's Teeth, the sod fairly shredded me. Sev'rus won't get into trouble on my account, will 'e? Far as I'm concerned, it was chooks comin' back to roost, if you follow my meanin'."

Oriens grinned. "Severus isn't in trouble – the Minister heard you loud and clear. But somehow, somewhere along the way, I think a few of your chickens turned into emus."

"And proceeded to kick the crap outta me." Toby shrugged stoically. He had taken a heavier pounding in Fred Brophy's boxing tent – though it was not a bad effort to last five rounds with a bloke who could shear four hundred Merino ewes in a day. Having experienced Eileen's power, and from what he had read of Severus' reported activities, Toby figured his son could have easily inflicted far worse damage if he had chosen to. God knows, I gave the lad reasons enough. "Y' reckon 'e really saw my memories?"

"Severus is a powerful Legilimens, as in 'reading minds'. He would have watched your memories as easily as watching television."

Toby rubbed his arms as he tried to avoid thinking about it. "I believe 'im when 'e said 'e wasn't behind the attack. Sev'rus left pretty sudden though, eh? Didn't look too good either."

Oriens thought for a moment, reading the hesitant concern within Tobias' sparse statements. He decided not to mention Severus' timely intervention with respect to a Dementor. "I believe him, too. He has not answered any messages, but I'm sure he will respond when he is ready. The Minister liaised with the Headmistress of the school where Severus is staying and heard that neither he nor Miss Granger showed up for dinner.

"Miss Granger and Severus seem to have formed a close friendship, though the Minister says there is more to it – a lot more. He was adamant that if she has gone in search of Severus, she will find him and bring him back alive. Besides," Oriens added with an enigmatic smile, "I believe Severus has some questions for me."

Toby frowned. "What's the lass' name again?"

"Miss Granger – Hermione Granger."

Toby trawled through his memory, finding it still skittish and elusive after Severus' "shredding". Granger... The Granger place Eddie was tellin' me about. Shit a brick! That's what Diesel was lookin' at. What's the bet she's the granddaughter, and she was there that day. Of all the shifty bloody... So that's 'ow they found me.

"Tobias? Is something wrong?"

"Eh? Nah. Nothin's wrong. I deal with stuff like this every flamin' day. I'm used to it." As he finished speaking, Toby felt a slight and sudden drop in temperature. He stood up, tucking the Llygad back into his belt pocket. "Did you feel that?"

Oriens shook his head in answer to the whispered question, but was ready to take any alert seriously. Without uttering a word, he handed Toby's knife back to him and moved around the room in a methodical search for anything out of the ordinary.

Toby's hands clenched and his wrists instinctively locked as he sensed something else: the metallic, airless hiatus that always happened before a fight, seconds before the first punch was thrown and all hell broke loose. He watched warily as Oriens tensed near the chair he had been sitting in, drew his wand, and...

"'Eads up!" Toby yelled as a large section of plaster warped, cracked, and broke loose from the ceiling. Oriens sprang clear and raised his wand. Toby blinked as he thought he saw a bright light stream out of it.

Something else was in the room. Toby could not see what it was, but it felt like a distant weight pressing on his mind: slowing, deadening, chilling. Oriens' attention was focused on something in the corner, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding whatever it was in place. Toby wrenched himself into action and hammered at the door. "Guard!" he shouted, feeling foolish and theatrical at the same time. He jumped to one side as the Aurors burst through the door. One stood protectively in front of him and two more joined Oriens. Toby had no idea why, but they cried "Expecto Patronum, Capere!" at the same time.

---

Hermione stretched, enjoying the warmth of the fire on her bare feet. Severus sat beside her on a generously padded leather sofa, nursing a glass of Firewhisky. It had taken some time for Severus to emerge from his insular brooding and begin to relate the events of the afternoon. Hermione noticed he kept to the intellectual aspects of what he had seen, avoiding anything leading to emotion. "The way you say the boy was dressed... It sounds Roman," she said.

"Roman with a Celtic influence. His dagger was definitely in the Celtic style." Severus watched the flames as though he were scrying for a repeat of the image.

"He sounded a bit like you."

Severus gave her a don't-be-absurd scowl. "I can assure you, I have never seen him before. I have no clue as to his identity."

Hermione scowled back, wishing Severus had allowed her to write down what he had seen in Tobias' memories. She was absolutely exhausted and her reasoning was beginning to fray. "Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione?" His free arm circled her as she curled snugly against him.

"Do you think there were two Llygads all along? I mean, the one in the vaults is reportedly ancient. Were they both made at the same time?"

"I cannot say without examining them further. As I said, one could be a copy of the other." Severus' eyes narrowed as he sat up. "Oh, gods."

"What is it?" Hermione took the glass of Firewhisky from his hand and sampled it cautiously.

Severus' eyes bored into hers as he arranged pieces of information into a readable pattern. "She said, 'Thanks to a deception arranged by my brother, the Dark Lord's servants will not even think to look for the Llygad.' A deception... and her brother... "

"Your uncle," Hermione could not help saying as she handed the glass back to him.

"Died to keep it safe. Let us assume the deception is a duplicate Llygad – a forgery – carried by... my uncle. Obviously, his death allowed Riddle to gain possession of what he thought was the real item.

"The Death Eater on whom the assumed duplicate was found was Alroy Crevan. He came off second best in a fight to the death with Aurors, not long after... the Potter murders. Crevan was a close associate of Abraxas Malfoy and one of Riddle's most trusted advisors. From Crevan's body, the forgery found its way to the vaults.

"From what Kingsley told me, in addition to the artefact's documented history, an Unspeakable, Arawn, developed an unhealthy obsession with it. He only ceased experimenting with it when he was sent to babysit Dementors. Evidently, he never let it go." And he mentioned my name in anger the last time he examined the Llygad. He must know of the family connection, but how? "If the vault Llygad really is a counterfeit, it is an absolute masterpiece."

Hermione shivered at the thought of Dementors. Putting them out of her mind, she rapidly summarised the information. "On those assumptions, the Llygad Tobias has is the real one. But who made the duplicate, and when? What did Voldemort want with it?"

Severus shook his head, suddenly looking more fatigued than Hermione had surmised. "I will think about those questions in the morning." Silent fury briefly flickered in his eyes, matching the reflection of the flames. "I never knew..." he snarled quietly. "She told me nothing."

He's hurting, Hermione thought, detecting an undercurrent of pain in his words. "About your uncle?"

"All she told me of the Prince family was of their impressively long bloodline, and that they are all deceased. Of course, she told me nothing of the Llygad."

"All of them?" Hermione wondered how such a thing could happen.

"Except her, at the time. And me. An ancient lineage was the only source of pride I could lay claim to for many years." Severus finished the Firewhisky and placed the glass carefully on the table. "The first time I met Riddle in person, he told me some of my ancestors turned to the Dark Arts centuries ago. He said they were outstanding practitioners and he had studied their work with interest. From him, I learned of a rift within the Prince family, between those who stayed with the Light and those who followed darker paths. Over time, as familial factions will, they gradually dwindled – with a little help from each other."

Severus stood and began to pace in front of the fire. "She said I must never take the Llygad. When she said those words, I was firmly allied with Riddle. 'Evil on a scale not seen since the days of Vortigern', she said. Perhaps this would have been the outcome if Riddle had used the thing." Or if he planned to order me to use it for him. He shuddered when he considered the power Riddle could have wielded with the Elder Wand and whatever lay within the Llygad y Ddraig.

Hermione shifted uneasily. "Vortigern. Why does that name have an unsettling sound to it? Well, you have taken the Llygad, in a way, and you are not serving the Dark. If you ever were to access its power, I'm sure it would be in safe hands."

Severus gave her a half-smile which revealed as much sadness as it did gratitude for her vote of confidence. Wearily, he sat down again. "I suppose I should report to the Ministry and arrange to pay Lucius a visit in Chateau Azkaban. I hope he will be forthcoming – if indeed he knows anything. He may have been just another benighted pawn in Riddle's plans."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him. "Not yet. In the morning. Right now, we both need some sleep." She yawned as he held her close. The next thing she was aware of was a soft pillow beneath her head and a goose-down quilt being carefully tucked around her. She opened her eyes to see Severus leaving the bedroom. "Where are you going?" she murmured sleepily.

Severus paused, turned, and leaned uneasily against the door jamb.

Hermione persisted. "I said we both need a good night's sleep, not that one of us should be less than comfortable in your study. This is not a single bed; I'm sure you have noticed."

Severus shrugged and looked at the floor.

"Severus, I don't expect you to do anything either. At least, not tonight. Next time I will not let you off so easily," she added, with more nerve than she actually felt. Oh, that was worth it, she thought, enjoying the thrill of his instant, undivided, and slightly disbelieving attention.

Severus spent a moment trying to convince himself Hermione did not really mean what she had just said. He gave it up as futile exercise when he realised she was looking at him in a way no woman had ever looked at him before. From his bed. "I will hold you to that last statement, witch," he growled softly. "If you dare."

"I was rather hoping you would," she fired back, sending his mind into freefall and his senses into a blissful chaos of anticipation. "By the way, I most definitely dare."

Severus quickly rounded up his galloping thoughts and bundled them behind a wall of Occlumency. He crossed the room to the wardrobe, faced with a problem he never thought he would encounter – what to wear?

His old, grey nightshirt caught his eye. He silently vowed to burn the thing. It brought to mind endless nights plagued with hopeless longing and torturous nightmares. Of waking alone to day after day of living his life on a guilt-ridden knife-edge made slippery with barely repressed anger. No, he would not wear it again. Ever.

Ransacking his top drawer, he unearthed a pair of boxer shorts. Close, but no cigar, he thought. While safely hidden in the warmer climes of Australia, he had discovered that sleeping in what he considered to be underwear was more comfortable than he would have expected. It had been a decision of necessity rather than choice; there had been nothing else available. He had continued his new tradition to date – remembering to cast a Warming Charm on the sheets before getting into bed.

Severus deliberated. Aware of his need to pace himself and not make foolish mistakes in haste, he decided the time was not yet right to parade around in the next best thing to nothing. Grabbing a couple of items, he took refuge in the bathroom. After a few transfigurations, he had something very suitable.

He rolled his eyes as he changed into a simple pair of black pyjamas. Shiny black buttons and a touch of white at collar and cuffs had manifested without his conscious intention.

Feeling more like himself, Severus took a deep breath and stalked into the bedroom. Hermione lay on her back with her hands behind her head and her eyes closed. Severus allowed himself a sheepish grin. He had taken so long fussing over nightwear, she had fallen asleep again. She, too, had engaged in some transfiguration. Severus was relieved to see a modest result, rather than something provocatively skimpy or – the Powers forfend – something resembling her school uniform.

He quietly slid under the covers and wondered what to do next. Propping himself on one elbow, he drank in the sight of her for a moment, then leaned over and softly kissed her. A warm hand trailed through his hair as she stirred and kissed him back. Severus wandlessly extinguished the sconces and opened the curtains, allowing sight of a night sky piled with clouds and illuminated by pale flickers of sheet lightning. They watched the display until Somnus gave them his blessing.

---

"Minister, this is highly irregular. In fact, such a thing has never been done before in the entire history of Hogwarts." Minerva nibbled on a piece of shortbread while she considered Kingsley's request. She was fully aware that if she refused, Kingsley could upgrade the request to an order. It was a sign of the respect he held for her that he proposed to negotiate a strategy rather than dictate an action.

"I will hold myself personally responsible if anything goes wrong, Headmistress. The wards system of St Mungo's is strong enough to sustain the occasional attack, but if Dementors persist in seeking entry, I am not sure how well our very thinly stretched resources can prevent them. Two of them got in today without anyone knowing."

"I assumed, from what you have told me, they were after Dolohov, not Tobias Snape."

"Apparently. Before he passed out again, Dolohov said a Dementor had been tailing him for weeks. He suspected it was trying to force him to cross the Channel into Europe. He did what he could to escape, but it kept wearing him down, not letting him sleep or eat. When another Dementor joined the first..." Kingsley frowned and sighed. "All he remembers after that is running until he got to St Mungo's."

"Pursuing him until he dropped?" Minerva sipped her tea. "It sounds like the opening scenes from the novel White Fang."

"Ah, Jack London's work. I remember that scene, where the wolves wore down their quarry over days of relentless harrying. We have moved Dolohov to the infirmary in Azkaban; he should be safe enough there until we get him to trial."

"Quite. But how is your Muggle involved in all this?"

"Tobias has a powerful magical object in his possession. We are not yet sure of what it is or what it does, but we are certain Voldemort had an interest in it, which is reason enough to be vigilant. Based on a rarely quoted theory that Dementors can sense latent power, I think at least one of the invaders inadvertently picked up on it and tried to get closer."

"To do what?"

Kingsley shrugged expansively. "Nobody really knows if Dementors can access external sources of magical power, or what they might do with it once they get it. The only documented observations we have involve attraction to strong emotions – particularly anger, hatred, and grief. Personally, I do not think I would like to find out what Dementors are capable of if they were to access the kind of power we believe lies within the Llygad y Ddraig."

Minerva nodded slowly. "Hogwarts' wards incorporate recently upgraded devices to keep Dementors out. The maintenance is rather energy intensive. We have so many students who have lost one or both parents, as well as sisters, brothers, and friends. Poppy has taken on two specialised Healers to deal with the emotional fallout alone: the very emotions said to attract the creatures in the first place. I suspect we are the most Dementor-proof location in the world at the moment. Very well, Minister. We shall give Tobias refuge within our walls. But here be dragons: how do you intend to handle Severus' reaction?"

"With every ounce of my diplomatic skill. Severus and I have things to discuss anyway. I need him to bring forward his timetable for instructing the Aurors in the second method of defence against Dementors. All Hogwarts' staff members and senior students should learn it too, as a matter of urgency. I have a gut feeling we need to move on this quickly."

"So there are two ways to repel Dementors? Severus mentioned it once at a staff meeting when he was Headmaster, but nobody believed him. Nobody trusted him." Minerva bit her lip before adding, "Including me."

"He saved an Auror's life with it today," Kingsley stated emphatically. He drained his teacup and pocketed an extra piece of shortbread. "As an afterthought to the management of Severusian dragons, perhaps it may be wise to engage Miss Granger's assistance?"

"Yes. I believe Miss Granger is in a position to give him something else to think about," Minerva responded dryly.

"So it would seem," Kingsley replied, poker-faced.

Barely an hour later, Toby silently followed Oriens, the Minister for Magic, and Headmistress McGonagall through the cold, draughty halls of a castle of impossible proportions. For all the strangeness of his surroundings, he could not get over one very obvious fact: some witches really did wear pointed hats.

---

Hermione woke slowly, savouring the scent of freshly brewed coffee. She opened her eyes to find Severus standing apprehensively by the bed, a steaming mug of the coveted substance in his hands. "Ooh, lovely," she said, sitting up to accept the proffered beverage. "Did you sleep well? I don't usually move around too much. I hope I didn't disturb you."

Severus gave a small smile. "If you moved at all, I was too out of it to notice. Therefore, yes, I slept well."

He would keep to himself the fact that he had never before shared his sleeping arrangements with anyone. Asleep, he would have been too vulnerable – a dangerous thing for a young Death Eater who knew he had enemies, and in later years, it would have been an even more dangerous thing for a spy with enemies watching his every move.

It had been risky enough engaging in very occasional "business transactions", even though he had always Polyjuiced himself as a different person and had used various assumed names. He had never eaten, or drank, anything on offer. And he had always left immediately afterwards – before the physical satiation subsided and he began to wonder what it would be like with someone he actually felt something for. Feeling cheated, and smouldering with resentment, he would scrub his skin raw and down enough Firewhisky to dull the emptiness that clawed its way up from his gut to his heart. Like a malicious spirit, the emptiness would laugh at him and taunt him, telling him he would be alone and despised forever – the flawed product of an utterly pointless existence.

For the first time in his life he had woken, feeling completely at peace, in the arms of a witch who meant everything to him. He realised the emptiness had been banished from its lair, and to his awestruck surprise, he knew how it had been routed:

Love shared was the power that sent it away – the power that restored and healed, supported and shielded, gave and received. To love, and be loved – powerful magic indeed, he had concluded.

Enthralled with this wondrous discovery, he had watched Hermione sleeping until the sun broke through the clouds and banished the half-light of a grey Saturday mid-morning. Then he had reluctantly dragged himself into the bathroom for a cold shower which, by then, was very necessary.

Hermione tugged his sleeve. "Earth to Severus! Are you aware you look rather nice when you are asleep?" One dare down, one to go.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed. "When did you reach that conclusion? I believe I was watching you."

Hermione smiled as she put her coffee on the bedside table. She toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "It was ages ago, after we left the Shrieking Shack and discussed the magical abilities of phoenix-kind. I nodded off, woke later on, and found you in the front room. It was a shame to wake you. You looked so peaceful."

"I remember," Severus mused, rubbing the scars on his neck.

Hermione reached out to cover his hand. "Do they hurt?"

"A twinge every now and then," he admitted, allowing Hermione to pull his collar aside and examine the marks closely. "As you can see, Nagini did not leave me any more disfigured than I already am."

Hermione lightly cuffed his ear. "Don't be ridiculous! You are not disfigured – now or ever." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Were you fishing for compliments?"

"I never fish," he protested loftily.

"And you have never heard of drying charms. Your hair is still wet," she scolded teasingly as she ruffled him into a more familiar state of disorder.

With a loud pop, Kingsley's Patronus interrupted Severus' retaliations. Hermione exchanged a worried glance with him as the silver lynx flattened its tufted ears and arched its back to emphasise the urgency of its message.

Kingsley had received a signal from Petrus. He and Oriens had gone down to the vaults into a scene of great agitation.

Arawn had taken the 'other Llygad' – and he had not acted alone. Through chattering teeth, Petrus said something had followed the Unspeakable. He described it as a 'wraith from the valley of the shadow of Death'. Whatever it was drank the warmth from the air, and Petrus was sure it would 'devour the living light of the soul'.