Two: Researching Relief

Chapter Two: Researching Relief

Severus awoke with a start, bathed in sweat, heart pounding in terror. Gripping the sheet that had wound itself around him as he slept, he realised he was in his chambers at Hogwarts. The very next thing he remembered was Minerva standing by his bed the night before as he swallowed a draught of Dreamless Sleep. Minerva. Oh, gods, he had to see her. With that sense of urgency flooding him, the events of the previous day came rushing back.

He untangled himself from his sheets and reached for his wand. With a shaking hand, he lit the lamp on his bedside table. Sitting up and dangling his feet over the side of the bed, Severus realised it must still be quite early. Although his rooms were in the dungeons near Slytherin House, Dumbledore had long ago created a window for him that reflected a view out over the lake. It was still dark, with only a slight tinge of blue to the sky.

Dreamless Sleep, indeed! He may not have dreamt, but he had awoken with night terrors, and he clearly had not slept through the night. Trying to gather himself, he went into his bathroom and washed up, removing his nightshirt, splashing his face and chest, then dunking his head into a basin of cold water. He was now fully awake, but he thought he felt worse than when he first awoke.

Leaning forward, elbows on the edge of the sink, Severus held his head in his hands. The rational part of him knew he was merely suffering the effects of the Adfectus spell; that part of him struggled with his desire to fly from his rooms and find Minerva, regardless of his current state of undress. He looked up at the mirror, knowing what he would see there: sallow face, lank hair, sharp lines around his mouth and across his forehead. He had deep furrows between his eyebrows now, but none of the small laugh lines around his eyes like those that crinkled about Albus's. He looked far older than any of his former classmates, he thought, with the possible exception of Lupin. Of those who were still alive, anyway . . .

Severus sighed, almost sobbing. Wasn't his life difficult enough? There was no escape for him, no reprieve. It mattered not what he did, nor how much he attempted to atone for his previous mistakes – no, not mistakes. Not simply mistakes, although they had been that. He had done evil and continued to do evil, although supposedly in service to the Light. How could that be, to do evil and hope for good? Dumbledore always said that there were difficult choices that no human being should be forced to make – the choice between a lesser evil and a greater evil – and yet what mattered was the triumph of the good. Severus could see that even Albus was not altogether comfortable with this notion. Better to do no evil at all. Better to thwart every evil that one could. But Severus knew, with the instinct of a canny Slytherin and the despairing soul of a repentant Death Eater, that sometimes evil would triumph if sacrifices were not made. The sacrifice of the good for the greater good. Severus shook his head. "The greater good." He did not know what that was, only that it could not include Lord Voldemort's existence. And Severus knew that he would be one of the sacrifices; willing or unwilling, one way or the other, he would be sacrificed. He would sacrifice himself and, paradoxically, even his redemption, for this greater good that he did not comprehend and would never live to see.

Severus normally didn't engage in such introspection. It was of no practical use and certainly could make nothing easier for him. It was that damned curse Parkinson cast on him. It had affected his mind. Severus shook now, trembling as though from exertion. How was he to survive this? He had come to accept that he would be a sacrifice for the Order; he never considered he would expire from unrequited love. The thought was absurd. The Fates must be laughing at him now. He deserved to suffer as required to make restitution for his earlier, stupendously bad, choices. But this thing that afflicted him now, how did he come to deserve this?

Severus's knees grew weaker, and he sank to the cold floor. He hadn't deserved this accident of fate. And surely, neither had Minerva, sweet, lovely, darling Minerva. She had been very patient with him the previous evening. Albus had gone off to the Great Hall for dinner, leaving Minerva and Severus to eat supper in her quarters. Severus found that he could sit with her quietly for a little more than an hour before the urge to act on his feelings began to overwhelm him. At her suggestion, he had confined himself to merely holding one of her hands in his and telling her of his love for her. She believed this would manage the spell better. Of course he had complied. He could do nothing but comply. He could not take anything from her – even if the spell allowed it and it provided him with relief, he would not do anything to harm Minerva, and he would never do anything to her against her will. It was not merely the spell that made that thought repugnant. Even before the spell had hit him, Severus had a great deal of respect and – although he never would have admitted it to anyone – fondness for the older witch. He would rather die now than do anything to harm her.

Severus pulled himself back to his feet. He looked dreadful, more so than usual, he thought. Tamping down the urge to run naked through the corridors of Hogwarts in search of his love, Severus ran a lukewarm shower and washed himself more thoroughly than his customary ablutions at the sink, shampooing his hair twice. The thought that he was doing this out of love for Minerva helped him cope with the spell's imperative.

He dried himself and dressed mechanically. It was not yet five o'clock. She had given him the password to her rooms yesterday; she told him to come up when he awoke. Severus sat on the edge of his bed for five minutes, head in his hands, before he could bear it no longer. He had to return to her.

As he dashed through the long corridors and up the many flights of stairs that led to Minerva's chambers, Severus was glad for one of the objects that Albus had brought back with him the night before: Harry Potter's blasted map. He still didn't know precisely how it worked, but he knew of its existence. The very last thing he needed now was for the brat to look at the map and begin to wonder why his hated Defence teacher was spending all of his time with the Gryffindor Head of House. The boy and his cronies would begin to snoop, Granger would put two-and-two together and come up with four, as she always did, and the cat would be out of the bag. Of course, Granger had been circumspect about Lupin's "problem," but Lupin was a fellow Gryffindor – and a beloved teacher. Severus doubted that he, on the other hand, could count on Granger's discretion about anything.

When Severus reached the fourth floor, he worried again about what Granger had seen and what she had deduced about the spell. It was not at all reassuring to him that Albus had found her in the Restricted Section of the library – having skipped dinner, apparently – surrounded by books related to the spell that had hit him. Albus had been in the library to find those very books when he had been attracted by the sounds of a hushed squabble coming from a remote nook. As Albus approached to investigate, Draco turned the corner, almost colliding with him. In keeping with his recent behaviour, Draco stammered a greeting and fairly ran past the Headmaster. Albus then peeked around the corner to find Granger sitting at a table, surrounded by dusty old tomes.

According to Albus, Granger had told Draco to get lost after the latter had tried to swipe some of the books that she had piled next to her. "I told him that we could share them, but he didn't want to be seen sitting with me, I guess . . . or else he was embarrassed."

"Why would Mr Malfoy be embarrassed, Miss Granger?"

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know . . . he's a Slytherin."

"Would you like to tell me what you are researching here?"

The girl reddened. "Nothing . . . well, not nothing, of course. A special project for . . . for Defence. Yes, for Professor Snape."

Albus sat down in the chair across from her and cast a privacy ward. "I understand that you were present earlier today when another student cast a spell that hit Professor Snape. Would this have anything to do with that?"

Hermione nodded, apparently relieved that the Headmaster already knew about the stray spell. "I told the boys – Harry and Ron, that is – that I had some Arithmancy homework. I didn't tell anyone about what happened, I promise, Professor. I'm pretty sure that Pansy and Millicent didn't, either – it wouldn't reflect well on them. I was worried about Draco, but I think that, for some reason, he hasn't told anyone. Draco actually seemed concerned . . . Anyway, I wouldn't want any rumours to get about that Professor Snape was hit with that particular spell, but I was worried. I didn't know if he had told anyone, and I thought if he hadn't . . . well, maybe I could find something that might help."

"So you did hear what spell was cast?"

"Yes, sir – did Professor Snape tell you which one it was? He did? Then did . . . no, it's none of my business, I suppose."

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened, Hermione. Better yet, I would like to view your memory of the event."

Hermione blanched. "Legilimency?" she asked in a whisper.

"No, my dear. We would use my Pensieve. I would not be privy to any of your own thoughts or feelings that way, and I would also be able to view an unbiased account of what happened – see things that you may not have been aware of at the time."

"All right, Professor. If it will help Professor Snape. I've been worried about him – even more so after reading something about the spell. I don't think it's possible to escape it . . . entirely unscathed. I know his work for you is very important." She left unsaid, "and he would be vulnerable to Voldemort."

Albus shrank the books that Hermione had found, put them in his pockets, waved cheerily at Madam Pince, and led Hermione up to his office, where she extracted her memory and placed it in his Pensieve. Albus told Severus that he had viewed it several times before returning it to the girl.

"Didn't you believe me, Albus?" Severus had asked bitterly when the Headmaster related the tale, wondering whether this incident had destroyed the older wizard's trust in him.

"Oh, I did believe you. I was concerned that the event may have been staged, however – that you had been the intended target of the spell all along."

Severus immediately understood what Albus was implying. If his brain hadn't been so addled by the spell, he would have seen it immediately. It was possible that Pansy and Draco – and perhaps even Millicent – had been engaged by another party to perpetrate the deed and make it look like an accident. Given his precarious position, Severus could see how someone – either a rival or the Dark Lord himself – might find this an amusing test of his loyalty.

"And what did you determine?" Severus asked with some alarm.

"I believe that it really was an accident – or else it was one of the best staged ambushes in history. Do not worry unduly, my boy. We shall deal with it together, all of it. In this, at least, you are not alone. I would be more sanguine if I could question Miss Parkinson, but that would arouse too many suspicions, whether the event was an accident or not."

Severus had the sense that he should be much more concerned about whether Pansy had intentionally hit him with the spell, but the effect of the spell itself distracted him from those worries. And now, as he approached the seventh floor and Minerva's rooms, Severus felt a sense of panic. What if Minerva hadn't given him the correct password? Or supposing she had changed her mind about helping him and had changed the password after she had returned from his rooms the night before? He would go mad and then he would die; the reading they had done after supper had confirmed that.

Severus swallowed, his heart pounding in his throat, and whispered, "Zinzibar." The door clicked and the portrait swung outward. He took hold of the door handle and felt a rush of relief as the door opened easily. He stood stock-still in the centre of Minerva's sitting room. The books that Albus had retrieved the night before stood in scattered piles, and a few parchments with notes and colourful lists lay on the table. Two pairs of glasses, Minerva's and Albus's, lay beside them. Severus felt tears rise in his eyes. But now the spell's imperative was too strong to permit him to do anything but what he had come to do.

His muscles feeling heavy and his limbs rigid, Severus stumbled to Minerva's bedroom door and leaned against it, cheek pressed to the cool oak. She was there, behind that door, breathing the air . . . he was breathing air that Minerva had breathed. That thought calmed him slightly, and he raised his hand and knocked. He heard a slight rustle and a whisper, and just a second later the door opened. Once again, Severus fell forward into Minerva's arms. This time, he recovered himself and regained his footing.

He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her arms supporting him, his own hands at her shoulders. Then, remembering their agreement that he would prolong the spell – and his agony – by limiting his expressions of affection to her. Severus opened his eyes and backed up. Dawn was providing a little grey light through the bedroom's open windows.

"I am sorry, Minerva. I tried to stay away longer. It . . . was a struggle," he admitted. Perhaps admitting his weaknesses to her would be one way that he could express his love.

"That's all right, Severus. I gave you the password so that you could use it."

As Minerva was speaking, Severus became aware that they were not alone. So focussed had he been on his love that he had not noticed that Albus was behind her. He had sat up and was now getting out of the bed that Minerva had clearly recently vacated herself.

Severus choked and turned his head away. He had no right to these emotions, none of them. Not his love of Minerva, not his desire to touch her, and certainly not the envy and jealousy that was now eviscerating him so thoroughly.

Minerva, realising what had triggered his spasm, took his arm, led him into the sitting room, and gently urged him to the sofa. He sat, torn by the emotions that gripped him.

"I am sorry, Minerva. I have no right. No right to anything. I know that. I just can't seem to help myself." He looked up at her where she stood beside him. "I think I would rather have been hit by the Killing Curse yesterday afternoon – for many reasons, not the least of which is that you do not deserve to have this happen to you."

"We, on the other hand, are very glad that you were not hit by something deadly or any more debilitating than this spell." Minerva raised a hand, forestalling his protests. "It is somewhat debilitating, I know, Severus, and I know that it is . . . extremely difficult and uncomfortable for you. But we will manage it, I am sure."

Severus was aware that Albus had been standing in the doorway listening. What could he say to him? For this involved him, as well. Severus had not considered the fact that Albus might be there when he arrived at such an early hour, although had the spell not blinded him so thoroughly, he would have realised it was a possibility.

Albus cleared his throat. "I thought I would be gone before you arrived, Severus. I am sorry if my presence has made the situation more difficult for you."

Severus began to laugh, softly at first, then more loudly, almost hysterically. The other two simply waited. When his laughter began to die in choking sobs, he finally managed to force out a few words. "More difficult for me . . . that's rich, Albus, truly. Your presence –" Severus gasped again, turning to look at Albus. "You are the one with a right to be here. Do not behave as though you are the interloper. Let us at least be honest about that in this entire ludicrous, absurd situation. If we are not, I will certainly go mad – although I may just yet!"

Albus came closer. "I simply wanted to make things less uncomfortable for you, Severus. That is all I meant. I do not want to be a source of torment for you, my boy."

"Really, Albus? I will remember that you said that . . . I believe you mean it in the moment, but –"

"No need to speak of other matters now, Severus. If you wish, I will qualify the statement for you: I do not wish to be an additional source of torment to you in this situation."

Severus snorted, but seemed to give up whatever argument he had been about to make. He leaned back against the settee, raised a hand, and offered it to Minerva, trying not to care that Albus was there – the torment could go both ways, he thought, a lump in his throat, tears pricking the back of his eyes. Minerva took his hand, and he held hers, looking up at her face. Her hair had been gathered behind her head and charmed into a very loose sort of bun for sleep. Stray hairs framed her face beautifully, Severus thought. He raised her hand to his face, remembering not to kiss it, despite the almost overwhelming urge to kiss her hand, her wrist, her palm, her fingertips . . . He had never in his life been possessed of such a longing. Physical desire had always been about one thing only for him: relief in orgasm. Better achieved with the assistance of another, but if not, his own hand had always done an adequate job for him. This desire to touch another, to kiss and caress her tenderly, to bring her pleasure as he demonstrated his love . . . that was entirely alien to him. Was this something that others normally felt? Or was it entirely a product of the spell? Or was it something in between – normal but amplified by the spell's imperative?

Severus gently pressed the back of Minerva's hand to his cheek. "You are a very fortunate man, indeed, Albus, to have found the love of such a witch. She surpasses all others in beauty and talent, in grace and wit, and in strength and loyalty. You have been blessed," he ended in a whisper. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her hand. The urgency of the imperative drained from him. This would exhaust him, Severus thought. And he could not bear to feel the embarrassment and shame that accompanied the relief each time he expressed his love for Minerva. He would simply have to give in and endure it with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. Severus released Minerva's hand and stood.

"Thank you, once again, Minerva." Turning slightly so that he was facing them both, he added, nodding, "I will no doubt be back in an hour or so. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

Minerva stopped him. "You needn't leave, Severus. We are up now, anyway. Why don't we all have breakfast together, then you and I can get back to our research while Albus tends to other business?"

Severus hesitated. Retreat to his dungeon rooms seemed very attractive right now, but the thought of having to make the journey back to her rooms again in an hour was less so. Eventually he would need to stay since he could not very well be seen going back and forth between the dungeons and the topmost level of the castle. He nodded his assent.

"Very good, Severus," Albus said. "As I told Minerva last night, her regular house-elf has been temporarily relieved of her duties, and Dobby will serve the two of you." At Severus's look of alarm, he added, "I have extracted his promise that he will not tell anyone about this, including Harry."

"A house-elf who promises anything? A free house-elf, at that? Albus, I do not think this is a good idea at all – what about your own elf, what's her name, Whispy?"

"Wilspy; she will be helping us, as well, but I have her assisting with another task at the moment. Dobby will merely serve your meals, Severus. That is all."

"Only if he is called, Albus, please. The thought of that creature popping in while I'm . . . while I'm fawning over Minerva like a love-sick school boy . . . I just think it would be one blow too many." Severus sat heavily on the couch.

"Of course, my boy. I will make that quite clear to him."

Albus called Dobby, gave him explicit instructions, and the house-elf Disapparated with a loud pop. "I suggest that while we wait for breakfast, we review our research from last night and set up a plan for what our next steps will be."

Each of the three recounted what information they had discovered the night before – Severus was surprised to realise that Albus and Minerva had apparently been up very late scouring the books for a solution to his problem. They probably had had no more than a few hours sleep. They discussed possible promising leads, and Albus and Minerva compared their notes. Severus gave a laconic recitation of various fates that befell other victims of the spell and what had happened to them when they were unable to fulfill its imperative. Some wizards and witches died in anguish and insanity, having ceased eating or sleeping; others were driven to suicide by their desperation – drowning and poisoning being the two most common methods of dispatch. Both Albus and Minerva reassured Severus that simply because he hadn't yet found an example of someone who survived the spell without carrying through on its imperative, it didn't mean it hadn't happened. As Albus was speaking, Dobby reappeared, several platters of food floating above him. Albus cleared the table of its books and parchments, Dobby popped away, and the three sat down to breakfast.

Severus drank some coffee, but had difficulty eating anything. The clarity of thought that he experienced briefly before the spell's imperative set in once more was almost as bad as the confusion, misery, and longing. This situation was intolerable. How was he going to face either of them after this? Providing, of course, that they actually found a remedy for the spell and he wasn't doomed to insanity and a slow, wretched death. And having Albus there at the table – it was just too bizarre . . . He felt like a caricature of a cicisbeo in a bad parody.

"Is the spell affecting your appetite, Severus?" Albus asked, his words punctuating Severus's thoughts on the absurdity of his situation. "Try some of the fruit."

"No, not really. I never eat much breakfast." He looked at the two of them, calmly sitting there eating their soft-boiled eggs and barley scones as though this were a perfectly normal morning. Letting his spoon fall with a loud clatter to his plate, he turned to Albus. "I do see it hasn't affected your appetite, though, Albus." He waited until he was sure that he had the wizard's undivided attention before he continued. "Don't you find this situation bizarre? Absurd? Or at least a little bit odd, Albus? How can you both sit there and eat like that?" Severus felt a pang of remorse that he had included Minerva in his last remark: she would need to maintain her strength in order to deal with him. Before he was able to apologise for his insensitivity, however, Albus spoke.

"Severus, what you are going through is most unfortunate – and unfair – and I am sure you are not where you would choose to be this morning, and you certainly are not here for any reason of your own choosing. From that perspective, I suppose this is absurd. However, right now we are eating breakfast together, nothing more, nothing less. We have shared meals before – granted, under different, more congenial circumstances, and not quite so early in the morning – but I do wish that you would try to extract what normalcy you may out of your day. I know that is difficult for you in the best of times, my boy, but it would make it easier on both you and on Minerva if you could try."

Severus's clarity of thought was beginning to wane, but it seemed that what Albus said made sense. He certainly didn't want to be more of a burden to Minerva than necessary. He would try, for her sake. Somehow, despite their sense, Severus still resented Albus's words, and so he did not respond, except to pick up his spoon and begin eating the berries and cream that Minerva had just fixed for him and set at his place. He smiled despite himself: Minerva herself had spooned the berries into a bowl and then ladled the cream over them. That alone was reason to eat them. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through him. He should have fixed her a bowl of berries. He should have poured her tea. He knew precisely how she liked it after so many years of watching her prepare it. He should be serving her, not allowing her to wait upon him.

Severus dropped his spoon again. Tears welled up in his eyes. Once more, the small, detached part of him that maintained some sense of rationality watched, scornful, as he wept over his breakfast. How could this be? The man who had joined the Death Eaters, then betrayed them and rejoined as a spy, how could he be crying into his berry bowl?

He was vaguely aware of Albus leaving the table. Then he heard Minerva's voice, her burr softly trilling the r's in his name, "Severus, Severus. Come now, look at me. I am sorry if Albus seemed less than understanding of your predicament. He does take it seriously, you know."

Severus looked up at her; she was so kind. The very definition of kindness. And justice. She would always be fair, yet moved by gentle mercy and compassion, as well. Gulping back a few tears, he said, "No, it wasn't that, really. Please don't concern yourself. It was . . . something else."

"What was it then, Severus? You may tell me, if you wish."

"It was just –" He gulped back another sob; oh, how he wished he had avoided crying in front of her! "You fixed me the bowl of berries . . ." His voice broke and he couldn't continue.

"Yes – is there something wrong with them? Would you prefer something else?"

"No, no, please." He took a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. "I don't want you to go to any trouble for me. I should have fixed your bowl, made your tea, made sure you had everything you needed . . . I wish I could serve you, Minerva, my –" He stopped himself with great effort. He could not continue to gush like this. He would have no shred of dignity left before the day was over; he might as well lock himself away in his rooms to die right now.

He stood abruptly, almost overturning his chair, then turned from her and walked toward the door, as if to leave. But now he could not. The imperative was growing strong again. He slumped onto Minerva's small settee.

"May I sit beside you a moment, Severus?"

He nodded. He could not have said "no" to her. Remembering her words yesterday, he bit his tongue before he asked if she still believed he wasn't pathetic.

"Here, it's been over an hour. No wonder you're feeling a bit on edge."

Severus reached over and, with a questioning glance at Minerva, took her hand. He held it in both of his, then raised it to his mouth and kissed it, a true kiss, not a mere courtly gesture. He kissed it again, then let out a deep sigh as relief began to flow over him. "I am most fortunate that, as Albus said yesterday, I have good taste in women," he said with the faintest smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Almost every other woman of my acquaintance would have tossed me out on my ear long ago or, at the very least, be having a good laugh at my expense – and if you are, I would prefer not to know!"

"No, Severus. There may be some humorous aspects to this situation, which we may find together later, once it's all over, and there may be times that you make me smile, but I certainly am not laughing at you." Then, more briskly, she said, "Are you feeling better, Severus? If you are, I think we should begin our research. And we don't want to diminish the effects too quickly, remember."

Although he was, indeed, feeling better, Severus was reluctant to let go of Minerva's hand. The urgency had abated, but the spell's imperative would have been quite satisfied to have him continue to hold her hand, kiss it, caress it . . . With a shudder, Severus released Minerva's hand.

"Yes, thank you, Minerva." As they rose and Minerva banished the breakfast dishes, he remembered his original purpose in coming here the day before. "You know, even before the spell took full effect, I was coming to see you for help because I knew that I could trust you. I knew you would help me and do so in a . . . tolerable fashion." He helped Minerva move some of the books and parchments back onto the table. "I know that yesterday I said I didn't believe we were friends, Minerva. But that is a fiction I have lived by in order to survive my life, such as it is. I suppose the trust I place in you . . . perhaps that shows that we are friends and that, on some level, I knew it already."

Minerva smiled at him. "Well, then, that's at least one good thing that we can count on having come out of this otherwise regrettable incident! I doubt you would have ever said anything like that to me before – and I do hope that it's not just the spell speaking."

"No, Minerva, it's not." He smiled somewhat ruefully. "If it were, I am sure it would have been phrased in much more flowery and absolute terms. But you are correct; I would not admit such a thing if I were in my right mind."

After they had decided which book Severus might be able to read and make sense of in his current state, Minerva left to shower and dress. Severus assiduously tried not to think of what details those activities might involve, which became easier once Albus reentered the room, dressed and looking freshly groomed.

"I thought I'd stay a little while and give you a hand, if you don't mind, Severus. I will make an appearance in the Great Hall this morning, but breakfast won't be served for a couple of hours yet."

The two wizards worked together in silence for a while, until Albus said, "Severus, may I speak to you for a moment? If you're feeling up to it . . ."

"Yes, Albus; I'm still relatively lucid, if that's what you're asking."

"I think you should come to lunch in the Great Hall today." Before Severus could protest, Albus continued, "It would not seem odd to anyone if you didn't appear for breakfast on a Saturday morning, or even if you were to miss one or two meals, but it would not do to seem to disappear completely over the weekend. I think that you should attend every meal possible until you feel utterly unable to do so. If you . . . see Minerva for a few minutes just before you leave for lunch, then return to her immediately, you should be fine. Do you think you can manage that?"

Severus agreed; he could just imagine what Draco and Pansy were making of his absence from dinner the night before. Perhaps that had inspired Draco's visit to the library and his unsuccessful attempt to commandeer the books Granger had found. "Perhaps I should even go to breakfast. Just a brief appearance. I could drink a cup of coffee, look like my usual unpleasant self, and leave. Forestall any speculation on the part of certain Slytherins – and one Gryffindor."

Two hours later, Severus Flooed from Minerva's sitting room to the Headmaster's office, where Albus had kindly waited for him while he "recharged," as Severus had begun to euphemistically call the moments during which he allowed himself to act in response to the spell. Before they left to walk down to the Great Hall, Severus stopped Albus, gently placing a hand on Albus's right elbow, mindful of the other wizard's injury.

"Albus, I am not very good at this, as you know, but I want to thank you. And to apologise." Severus paused, unsure of what to say next. "There have been times when I have resented my debt to you, when gratitude seemed to me just one more form of abasement. I always rationalised my resentment by remembering what you were getting in return." Seeing that Albus was listening to him quite seriously, not twinkling at all or seeming ready to interrupt, Severus continued, "I know that you may have your reasons for helping me now. Reasons involving the Order. But I think . . . I think that you are not doing this just to help Snape the spy . . . are you?" He immediately regretted asking that question.

"Severus, you can answer your own question. Try to imagine this same scenario, but replace yourself with another Order member. I am not saying that I would allow someone else to die from this spell, of course, but I will honestly say that I cannot imagine being as . . . at ease as I am now with you. The reasons are complex, but I can tell you that what I said yesterday about caring about you is a large part of it. And I trust you. You are an honourable man at heart, Severus. And if Riddle were to die fully and finally while we ate our breakfast this morning and your services were no longer needed, you and I and Minerva would nonetheless proceed as we have done and undertake whatever is necessary to free you from this spell."

Severus released Albus's arm. "It's probably an effect of the spell, Albus, but I believe you. Although I do believe that Minerva might prefer if it were someone else – or is that a part of the 'complex reasons'? You don't want her with some other, more attractive wizard?"

Albus chuckled. "Oh, Severus, I trust Minerva even more than I trust you. More than anyone, in fact. And as to her personal taste . . . she chose to be with me, and she has remained with me for decades. You could look like Gilderoy Lockhart, and it wouldn't make a difference to me. In fact, I am glad that she is fond of you. If you were someone whom she disliked or had difficulty tolerating . . . well, her decisions in this situation are her own, but I would be unhappy if she felt she had to endure such a person's attentions. But come, we need to have breakfast and return you to Minerva before the spell overtakes you again."

Fifteen minutes after he had arrived in the Great Hall, Severus strode out, glaring balefully at no one in particular. He restrained himself from running back to his quarters, and when two Slytherins tried to stop him to talk to him about something, he snarled at them and told them that whatever it was, it would have to wait until tomorrow. Closing his door behind him, Severus doubted there would be a tomorrow for him. He lit a small fire then grabbed a pinch of Floo-Powder from the mantle; his hand shook as he threw it into the grate. His knees buckling as he stumbled into the Headmaster's office, Severus wondered if he would make it through the Floo to Minerva's rooms without fainting, but there she was, waiting for him, the very image of a goddess.

She took his hand and said briskly, "Come, now, Severus, you're late." Without another word, she dragged him bodily into the Headmaster's private suite.

"I thought it best not to be too . . . effusive in front of the portraits," she explained as Severus fell to his knees in front of her, taking both her hands in his and kissing them.

"Oh, Minerva. You are truly the most deserving of all women! You have once again saved me. Your perspicacity and foresight are surpassed only by your loveliness and femininity!" Severus shuddered and dropped her hands.

Remembering that he was going to try to endure the spell with at least some dignity, Severus shook off any feelings of shame and embarrassment and stood. He breathed heavily for a moment, then said, "Thank you, Minerva. I underestimated how long it would take me to return to your rooms from my own using the Headmaster's Floo."

"I will ask Albus to connect my Floo to yours, then."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Minerva's rooms, researching the Adfectus with which Severus had been hit, as well as any of its variants. Albus dropped by twice to see whether they had made any progress and to bring a few books from his own library. All that Severus read increased his despair. He saw no way out of his situation. The books he had been assigned to read all held anecdotal accounts of witches and wizards who had been afflicted by the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus and similar spells. There were no instances that he could find where a witch or wizard had been hit by that particular spell and had found a third way out – one that didn't involve either death or, as Minerva had so quaintly put it the day before, the "ultimate expression" of their feelings. He made a note of the few instances in which a counter-measure had been effective for other similar spells, just in case Albus or Minerva were able to see a way in which it might be useful.

He and Minerva had attended lunch and dinner together, arriving and leaving separately, and he had sat beside her both times. He managed to fend off the imperative a bit longer than usual by discreetly filling her glass, retrieving her napkin when it fell to the floor, and other such gestures. He maintained his customary scowl throughout dinner, and so he hoped that no one noticed he was more solicitous toward the Deputy Headmistress than usual. It quite surprised him after dinner when Hermione Granger appeared at his elbow as he was leaving the Great Hall. He was torn between annoyance and fear.

There was no one within earshot that he could tell, but he had not been a spy all those years for nothing – he would say nothing to her that would give him away, even if she blathered on about the Adfectus at the top of her voice for the next five minutes. Of course, if she did that, he might hex her . . .

"Professor Snape?"

"What is it, Miss Granger, that makes you feel entitled to accost people as they leave dinner?" He began to stride rapidly toward the dungeons, Hermione trotting along beside him, undeterred.

"I have my extra credit project for you, Professor. And the reference work that I used to draw my conclusions," she said, panting.

Extra credit project? Albus said last night that she had referred to her research as a "special project" for Defence. Severus stopped and grabbed at the book and parchment that she was holding out to him. "Since you did not have this for me yesterday," he said, "I do not see why I should accept it now. But I am in a generous mood, Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor. I remembered the order when I used the charm, as well," Hermione said enigmatically.

Not knowing how to respond to that bit of nonsense, Severus said, "I have your work, now, Miss Granger. That will be all – unless you care to accompany me to Slytherin?" he added in his most dangerous voice.

As soon as she had scurried off, Severus took the most direct route to his rooms rather than his usual, more circuitous one, which allowed him to catch miscreants in various corners of the dungeons. He Flooed directly to Minerva's sitting room and was grateful that she was already there. After the now tedious but curative recitation of Minerva's virtues and a few small gestures of affection, Severus told Minerva of his encounter with Hermione.

They looked at the book. It seemed to be a standard textbook on defensive spells. There was a folded parchment containing a rather dull essay, in Hermione's handwriting, recounting the various ways one could kill a vampire. It certainly was not sixth-year material, nor was it up to Hermione's usual standard. Severus was about to try some standard revealing charms on the parchment when Minerva chuckled as she ran her hands over the book. "Tell me, Severus, everything that Hermione said to you when she gave you this."

Long practice of regurgitating conversations for Albus made this easy for him, despite the deleterious effects of the spell.

"'I remembered the order when I used the charm,'" Minerva muttered. "I think it is quite simple, Severus. I hope that it is keyed to the password alone and we do not need to know which spell she used." Minerva raised her wand, opened her mouth, then stopped. "Perhaps you would prefer to do it?"

"No, no, please proceed."

"Phoenix."

The book shimmered a moment. It was now an arcane text on spells used to control or influence others. Minerva pointed her wand at the parchment and repeated the procedure.

"Dear Professor Snape:

"Hermione Granger"

Minerva teared up as she read Hermione's letter. "That was very kind of her, Severus. Even you must admit that."

"I must admit nothing, Minerva," Severus replied with a shadow of his usual sneer. "However, I will admit whatever you wish."

"You know, Severus, what bothers me most about that spell?"

"My constant presence? My repeated professions of love? My blandiloquence? My sweaty palms?"

"No, the fact that you do not argue with me about anything. You aren't even particularly . . . sarcastic anymore, except about yourself and your own situation."

"I'm sorry, Minerva. I could try, of course. But I'm afraid that, aside from the fact that I do not wish to hurt your feelings, the spell has, as Miss Granger pointed out, affected my cognitive abilities. I do not think that I could do our usual arguments justice." He raised an eyebrow and gave her a half-smile.

Minerva reached out and patted his arm, smiling gently. "That's all right, Severus. It will be something to look forward to." She looked at him seriously. "I hope that you are looking forward to it, as well."

"Yes, of course. I want to be rid of this damned spell."

"What I meant was, I hope we are still friends after this. That you will not feel beholden and turn your back on me because of it. Don't look at me like that, Severus. I know you too well."

Severus just shook his head and sat down on the sofa with the book Hermione had given him. "I am sorry, Minerva. I am so influenced by this spell right now, I do not know how to reply to you. I know what you are saying, of course. I have not lost my memory – nor my mind, entirely – but emotionally, I find it difficult to connect what is happening now with anything else in my life before this. I do not know what will happen or how I will feel if we are able to counter the Adfectus."

"'If,' Severus?"

"Yes. I will not get my hopes up, despite the Headmaster's optimism."

Minerva made no comment to that, but settled down across from him with her own research. She was startled when Severus suddenly threw the book at the door. He put his head in his hands.

"What is it? Is it that bad?"

"I can't understand a thing. It's too theoretical. I read four or five words and then I forget what I've read. I can't make sense of an entire sentence. How am I supposed to teach like this?" he asked, raising his head to look at her. "And it will only get worse."

"We will worry about that when the time comes. You have been teaching a long time, Severus. You can just avoid any theoretical discussions – or have the students answer any questions themselves, and if their answers don't sound right, have them write an essay on it." Minerva went over and picked up the book Hermione had given Severus and placed it on top of the stack she was reading.

"Hmpf. And who will correct those essays as I slowly descend into madness? Albus seems quite adamant about not bringing in another teacher."

"You know why that is, Severus. It would get back to Vol – er, You-Know-Who. He would summon you, and I am sure you could imagine better than I what would happen then."

Severus found the book he had begun reading before lunch and flipped through it to find his place. The two sat in harmonious silence for the next few hours, reading and taking notes, interrupted only by Severus's regularly scheduled professions of love and adoration for Minerva.

At ten-thirty, Minerva removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes and stretched in her chair.

"Tired, Minerva?" Severus asked. "You have been up since five. You should get some rest. I would not want you to exhaust yourself for me."

Minerva smiled at him. "Just a bit tired, Severus. We need to think about you, though. I cannot go to bed until you are safely asleep. Would you like to Floo to your rooms now? Albus gave me another dose of Dreamless Sleep for you."

Severus hesitated. "I am afraid to sleep, Minerva," he whispered, swallowing his pride. "It is foolish, but I fear that I will wake up in terror again, and it will be too late – I will not realise soon enough that I need to see you, and then I will just lie there in my bed and go mad."

"I understand, Severus." Minerva thought a moment. "There's a nursery charm I know. I could cast it on you after you have gone to sleep and then, as soon as you awaken, I will be alerted. I could come to you, then. How would that be?"

Normally, the idea of anyone putting him to bed would have infuriated Severus, let alone the notion of having a nursery spell placed on him, but Severus nodded, his natural reluctance losing the battle to his common sense and the spell's imperative. "That would work." He looked over at Minerva again. "You are tired, though. We should call it a day, I think."

"Albus said that he would come by again, so I must wait up for him, anyway. If you wish to stay, I am sure that he will want to see you. He shouldn't be much longer."

"Very well." Severus watched Minerva as she put her glasses back on and picked up her book again. "You needn't do any more work, though. Couldn't we just sit and talk a while, my darling Minerva?" He cringed slightly as the affectionate appellation slipped from his lips. "And I was wondering whether you had found anything that might be helpful."

Minerva set down her book and hesitated. "Just a few small things, Severus, nothing definitive. I will show Albus and see if he thinks they are of use to us. But I haven't given up hope, Severus. There are still more texts to read." She smiled at him.

"Minerva, my sweetest Minerva, I am coming to accept my fate. Those who fight the spell seem to be the ones who suffer the most in the end, but I will fight it for as long as I can, if that is your wish."

"Come, Severus, the spell is speaking again! Please do not talk as though we will allow you to suffer and die!"

Severus rose and went over to Minerva. He knelt before her, took her hand, and kissed it gently. "There is a potion, then, when it becomes too unbearable . . . if you could ask Albus to brew it. I do not think I could at this point. It will allow me to end it all before complete madness and physical deterioration sets in. I would take it gladly from your hand, Minerva." He lay his forehead on her knee.

"Severus, please do not speak of such things. I cannot bear the thought – that is one choice I refuse to make!"

Severus looked up to see Minerva's distressed features. "I am sorry, Minerva. I will be brave for you, then. And I will have Albus shut me away where you needn't see me at the end . . . when it is bad."

"I will not abandon you, Severus Snape! For the first time in years, I feel like slapping you, but in your present state, I doubt it would do you any good."

"I'm so sorry, Minerva." His breath hitched and his eyes filled with tears. "I do not know what to do." He buried his head in her lap.

Minerva stroked his head. "There, there, Severus. I am here, and Albus is helping. We will be fine, both of us."

Severus pulled away and stood, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Minerva handed him a handkerchief. "I am sorry, Minerva . . . You know," he said with a slight laugh, "I think I have apologised more in the last two days than I have in the last twenty years. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

Minerva just shook her head and smothered a yawn. "I'm sorry, myself, Severus . . . I am afraid I'm not as young as I used to be. There was a time when I could have worked all night long."

A whoosh from Minerva's fireplace alerted them to Albus's arrival. In his arms were several scrolls, and as he stepped into the sitting room, one fell and rolled toward Severus. He bent and picked it up.

"Scrolls, Albus? Are these merely unpublished manuscripts, or are they as old as they appear to be?"

"They are rather old, actually –"

"But we determined that the first recorded use of the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus was in fourteen sixty-two – if these are older than that, I don't see their usefulness."

"You know that wizards and witches have been using similar spells for many centuries; in fact, there are earlier examples in these scrolls of Actus Adfectus spells – just not targeted at Amor Verissimus. They were loyalty spells, tests for treason, for the most part, but also a few that had no specific targeted emotion but were designed simply to force an individual to act in accordance with every one of his emotions – you are very lucky, as are we all, that you were not struck by such a spell. They did, however, have the advantage of being time-limited. I thought that if we could discover the difference between those time-limited spells and the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus, we might be able to effect a remedy. I had hoped to join you and do that this evening after dinner, but was unable to – there was a slight problem in Hufflepuff House, after which I checked on Wilspy's work for us and consulted with Madam Pomfrey."

Severus's interest in Albus's research turned to alarm as Albus mentioned the school matron. "No, Albus! You didn't tell her, did you?" He sank to the sofa, his stomach churning at the thought of Madam Pomfrey's involvement.

"No, I didn't tell her about your situation. I had a task for her, however. She can be of help, Severus, without knowing any specifics. I will explain further in the morning, if you don't mind. Right now, I must confess to being a little tired."

Severus agreed, remembering that he had awoken not only Minerva at such an early hour that morning. Minerva explained to Albus their plan for the nursery charm, which Albus agreed was a good idea.

"And how are you faring, my boy?" Albus asked after Minerva had left to "freshen up."

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. Minerva has been very patient. Much more so, I am afraid, than I would have been had our roles been reversed."

"We do not know that, Severus –"

"And we never will, or could," Severus interrupted, "since clearly the spell would have affected her in quite a different way. She never would have come to my rooms seeking me. We both know that, Albus."

"True. I will not lie to you or humour you, my boy. That would be adding insult to injury. But I do think that had she been afflicted by something different, but which nonetheless required your presence and attention, you would not have denied her, even ignorant of your feelings as you had been until yesterday."

"You have too good an opinion of me, Headmaster," Severus sighed. "Although I hope that you are correct in this instance."

"And, if you will forgive my asking, how far have you been required to extend your affectionate gestures toward Minerva?"

"Not far, Albus. You needn't worry about that. I do think that the interval has decreased somewhat, however."

"I am not worried for the reasons you may think, Severus. I am simply attempting to judge the progression of the spell's imperative."

Severus snorted. "Well, I have still confined myself to holding her hands and kissing them. Speaking to her of my feelings and my . . . my admiration for her seems to increase the effectiveness of the other gestures. Further physical contact, if initiated by me, also seems to help. I –" Severus clenched his jaw before continuing, steeling himself against the shame and embarrassment of his confession. "I knelt and . . . and laid my head in her lap. That seemed to give greater relief."

"Good, Severus. Now, I would prefer to keep the interval longer rather than having it decrease, so experiment with other expressions of your feelings toward her. See if you can't keep the interval to at least an hour, although a bit longer would be better. Also, you looked rather . . . grey when you arrived this morning. I think it best that there is as little delay as possible between your awakening and your seeing Minerva. I will tell her that myself, so that she will arrive in your rooms as quickly as she can tomorrow. The charm she proposes sounds ideal, for the moment."

"For the moment?"

"I think you will agree you cannot take Dreamless Sleep indefinitely, although there are other sleeping potions we may try. The time may come, my boy, when even being able to Floo to each other's rooms will not be sufficient."

Severus said nothing. His clouded mind was unable to produce arguments against Albus's suppositions and predictions, but he could also recognise the futility of fighting the truth of what Albus said. "What of my classes, Albus?"

"I believe I have a solution of sorts, at least something that will get us through a day or two. But I'd rather wait until tomorrow to discuss the details."

Severus nodded in agreement, and Minerva reentered the room.

"What details, Albus?" she asked.

"Just a few plans I would like to propose for the coming days, but I'd prefer to wait until we've all had some rest before I present them to you, my dear," he answered, smiling at Minerva.

"All right, then. I am too tired to consider any proposals right now, anyway. Are you ready to go, Severus?"

The two Flooed through to his rooms, and she waited while he brushed his teeth and put on his nightshirt. He sat on the edge of the bed, and Minerva explained to him that she would cast the nursery charm after he had fallen asleep and that it would only awaken her if he woke up completely. "The advantage to the particular charm I am using, Severus, is that it does not rely on sound – you needn't call for me to come. So even if you are very confused and remain completely silent after you awaken, I will still know to come for you."

Severus told Minerva of Albus's wish that they keep the interval longer, and hesitatingly suggested that they begin that night before he went to sleep. "Perhaps I will not wake up feeling quite so wretched in the morning," he added.

"Of course, Severus. That sounds . . . reasonable to me." She smiled and took his hand. He had given up protesting that she must find him dreadful, tedious, and pathetic, so he accepted her hand and raised it to his lips.

He kissed the back of her hand a few times before moving to kiss her wrist, then turned her hand to nuzzle her palm and kiss it before speaking. "I did not choose this spell to strike me, Minerva, and I did not choose you to be my true love, yet I see that it could be none other but you. In the universe of women, you are the only one deserving of my full and unqualified love, although surely my love is but a puny trifle compared to your own great worth." He sighed and kissed her palm again a few more times before releasing it.

"That was lovely, Severus. Thank you." Minerva patted his shoulder. "Now, time for your draught. And have no fear; I will come to you when you awaken."

The last thing Severus saw before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep was Minerva's gently smiling face.