On the Other Side of Midnight

Disclaimer: All rights belong to JKR. There is a small part of dialogue between Hermione and Harry taken directly from the chapter "The Department of Mysteries" of OotP as I needed the exchange from Hermione's POV. I marked those few words in italics. They, of course, as everything else are the property of JKR. I am merely a fangirl.

Author's note: Hugs and squishes to potionsmistress23 for her beta work. She was gracious and patient and picky and brilliant. Thank you :)) Any remaining errors are mine, and mine alone.

---

Snape took three, four steps in one. He nearly flew up the staircase towards the Headmaster's office, rushes of adrenaline forcing his body and mind to work. He would kill the imbecile, would kill him with bare hands, if he had left the house.

Well, given that the Dark Lord hadn't accomplished the task for him already, and Black lay dead somewhere deep down in the Department of Mysteries; and he would ensure that the insolent boy served detention for the whole forthcoming term. Potter would scrub cauldrons until the flesh peeled off his bones for getting himself caught, for suborning his fellow students to break into Umbridge's office, for exposing Miss Granger to her clutches...

Taking the next flight of steps, Snape shook his head briefly. That was another problem he would have to solve later. For now, he needed to find out if Black was at Grimmauld Place, and he needed a safe way to do that, one which in the unfavourable case that the imbecile was truly in the Dark Lord's hands, wouldn't give him away as well.

Therefore, using the two-way-mirror couldn't be considered safe any longer, as it was unclear who was currently in possession of Black's part of the mirror. Not for the life of him would he send a Patronus message to Grimmauld Place. Black and Lupin would immediately make the connection, would know what never should be known...

Snape reached the seventh floor of the castle and stopped short in front of the enormous gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He regarded the stone statue sceptically, and for a moment, it felt as if the enormous stone eyes in front of him were doing the same to him while the old man's voice echoed in his mind.

...not that the castle wouldn't already recognize you as my rightful representative if it were necessary. You know that, don't you, Severus?

Snape drew a breath and cast a quick glance around. Well, let's find out if you are right, Albus.

"Chocolate fairy cakes," he said imperiously and waited for the stone statue to move. It took a long moment until a short, screeching sound filled the air around him, and the gargoyle slowly gave way. A smirk curled the Potions master's thin lips; at least he had not needed to pull out a sword from a stone and anvil.

He ascended the stairs swiftly, not waiting for the stone escalator to take him, while the statue behind him moved back to obstruct the entrance against anybody who might try to follow him. He entered the Headmaster's office a few moments later, black robes billowing behind him.

The room was bathed in the warm evening sun, and the air filled immediately with hushed voices when Snape stepped inside. Black eyes travelled over the ranks of portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses, who watched him with unhidden surprise and interest, until they met the painted gaze of Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Good evening, Headmaster Snape," the portrait greeted him nonchalantly.

Snape held up a dismissive hand as he stepped up to the portrait. "Professor Snape will do, Headmaster Black."

He wouldn't risk the anger of the assembled dignitaries in front of him by claiming a title Phineas Nigellus had so easily and slyly attributed to a fellow member of Slytherin House.

"I am merely here as a representative of Albus Dumbledore to ask a favour of you, Headmaster Black."

A thin painted eyebrow rose. "Feeling modest today, are we? Certainly not a common trait in my House. Well then, what it is that you have come to ask me to do, Professor Snape?"

Phineas Nigellus let the title roll over his tongue with a mocking sweetness, but Snape kept his face blank.

"I need you to visit your other portrait at Grimmauld Place, Headmaster Black," he said evenly.

"And why would I do that?" Phineas Nigellus asked brusquely. "I have no intention of paying my worthless great-great-grandson a visit."

"Feel assured, Headmaster, I absolutely understand your sentiment," said Snape. "Unfortunately, however, that's exactly what I have to ask you to do, as I need you to relay a message to your great-great-grandson and confirm to me that he is at your family home right now."

The Slytherin rose from his painted chair, and Snape knew he was finally gaining ground.

"Has something happened to my great-great-grandson?"

"Well, that's what I am trying to find out – hopefully with your help, Headmaster."

Phineas Nigellus twirled his black beard for a moment until he said with an appearance of generosity, "Very well, what message do you wish for me to deliver to my great-great-grandson?"

"Tell him, if he is there, that his godson had a dream of Padfoot being in the hands of the Dark Lord, and that he needs to stay where he is. I'll see to it," said Snape.

While the mentioning of the Dark Lord's name caused a new wave of whispers to hush along the portraits, Phineas Nigellus eyed him sceptically before he vanished without so much as a good bye.

Snape turned from the empty canvas, not willing to let the other ancient portraits observe him while he waited for the former Headmaster's return, and moved towards one of the large windows in the Headmaster's residence.

The sun had nearly vanished behind the Forbidden Forest, immersing the grounds in a golden glow. Everything appeared as if Hogwarts and its inhabitants were settling for a peaceful night.

Snape snorted quietly. If the boy were right, if the Dark Lord had captured Black and was holding him down in the Department of Mysteries, he wouldn't dare to predict how this night would end...

"Well, I don't know what you expected me to find, Professor Snape," Phineas Nigellus said lazily, not caring to announce his return and leaning against the frame of his portrait.

At the first sound of his voice, Snape spun around.

"Besides being in one of his less pleasant moods, my great-great-grandson appears to be in perfect health. He asked me to tell you..." Phineas Nigellus made a pregnant pause before he continued in a raw, angry voice that resembled the one of Sirius Black perfectly, "You better see to it, Snivellus. Because it's your fault alone that Harry is still having those dreams."

Snape exhaled imperceptibly. Black was still at Grimmauld Place. It had been a vision. Just a vision, nothing more. Relief swept through him like a cool wave.

"Thank you, Headmaster Black. Your effort is appreciated."

Phineas Nigellus merely sniffed in return, obviously displeased that Snape still chose not to inform him about the reasons behind his request, but the spy ignored the former Headmaster's indignation and turned back to window.

His gaze travelled absently over the abandoned Quidditch pitch. It may have just been a vision that led Potter to believe that his godfather was in the Dark Lord's hands, but the question remained as to why the boy had even been subjected to such a chimera. It had been obvious that he honestly believed Black to be in danger. Could his vision be another glimpse into the Dark Lord's thoughts, a glimpse of what he was planning to do, what was going to come?

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to consider the potentiality. He needed to talk to Potter as soon as possible about what exactly the boy had seen and to end the fear for his godfather. Well, given that Potter would believe him.

At that thought, Snape's eyes snapped open again. He was just about to turn away from the windowpane when his gaze caught on a movement on the large lawn in front of the forest. He frowned, black eyes narrowing. A group of three people was rapidly advancing towards the Forbidden Forest.

Snape grasped for the binoculars he knew were lying on the table next to him, a result of stepping one time too often into Albus Dumbledore's office only to find the old man standing in front of the window, observing the weekly Quidditch training with them.

A corner of his mouth twitched with amusement at the thought before he placed the binoculars in front of his eyes and searched for the figures moving on the ground...and tensed.

The little group in front of him that headed so determinedly towards the Forbidden Forest consisted of nobody less than Umbridge, Potter and Miss Granger; it was obvious that the girl was the one taking the lead in this endeavour.

"What the hell are you doing, you foolish girl?" Snape asked aloud, adjusting the depth of the glasses to allow him a closer look. When the vision finally focussed, he saw it, saw Umbridge's wand pointing straight at the girl, urging her to walk on and into the forest, and something cold twisted his heart.

Without another thought, he threw the binoculars aside and stormed from the Headmaster's office. On his way to the second floor, he passed a group of duelling students who shared confused looks when he didn't deduct a single House point. However, the Potions master didn't care, his mind racing, searching for explanations as to why Umbridge could force Potter and the girl to walk into the Forbidden Forest. He still hadn't found a single one when he entered Umbridge's office unceremoniously only a few moments later and was greeted by the surprised faces of Draco Malfoy and his associates, who were still holding the Weasley children, Longbottom and Miss Lovegood captive.

"Professor Snape." Draco spluttered his name.

Snape graced the boy with an imperious look, only to see his face lose its last remains of colour.

"Mr. Malfoy, I hope you have an acceptable explanation for why you are holding your fellow students detained in the Headmistress' office while she is obviously not here," he said coolly. "We wouldn't want Slytherin to lose a considerable amount of House points when it is so close to winning the House Cup this year, would we?"

"Headmistress Umbridge ordered us to stay here, sir, while Potter and Granger led her to Dumbledore's weapon," answered Draco dutifully.

"Led her to what, Mr. Malfoy?" snarled the Potions master.

But it was Millicent Bulstrode who answered him. "Dumbledore's weapon, Professor. Granger just confessed its existence to Headmistress Umbridge."

"Miss Granger did what?" he asked once more, anger and worry reducing his voice to a strangled whisper.

You foolish, foolish girl...

What in Merlin's name was she thinking? Umbridge would expel her the moment she realized Miss Granger had lied to her.

"She confessed that they've completed Dumbledore's weapon, sir." Draco seconded Bulstrode's words. "We were as surprised as you are to learn that such a weapon even existed, Professor."

"Yeah, needed Umbridge to threaten Potter with a Cruciatus for them to confess it," Crabbe added with a grunt, enforcing his grasp on Longbottom.

"Is that true? She threatened a student with the Cruciatus Curse?" asked Snape, grateful that he had his voice back under control, while his gaze travelled from one student to the other, only to see Potter's friends nod along with his Slytherins.

And he didn't miss the accusatory glance Draco cast Crabbe for letting that particular piece of information slip. The boy obviously understood full well that even his Head of House couldn't turn a blind eye to a student being threatened with an Unforgivable, even if that student was Harry Potter.

Oh, and he had no intention of doing something even close to that. On the contrary, together with Pomona and Filius, he would call the Aurors the moment the toad-faced hag set her foot into the castle again. The time of the Headmistress of Hogwarts was finally running out, and with so many witnesses, even Umbridge wouldn't be able to wriggle her way out of a long stay in Azkaban.

"Well, then," said Snape with feigned indifference, "I leave you and your companions to your task now, Mr. Malfoy, but I would ask you to inform me as soon as the Headmistress is back."

"Yes, sir."

Snape gave Draco a stiff nod and swept out of the room.

The moment Umbridge's office door closed behind him, the Potions master paused in his steps, remaining motionless in the middle of the hallway for a heartbeat, his mind dithering on how he should proceed.

It was pivotal that he inform the old man about the events of the last hour directly if they wanted take preventive measures to keep Potter safe and, presumably, Black out of the Dark Lord's claws. While Umbridge had threatened the boy with a Cruciatus Curse, his instincts told him that she wouldn't risk the possibility of Potter dying by her hand tonight.

Therefore, there wasn't the immediate need for him to follow the group into the Forbidden Forest, yet there was this something, this peculiar something in his chest that urged him to make sure the foolish girl was safe from Umbridge and any other harm the night in the woods might hold.

Snape's gaze dropped to the freshly healed skin of his right palm, and long fingers closed in determination. The nonsense had to stop. And it would stop now. He wouldn't allow the girl to distract him from the vow he had made, the vow to protect the undeserving, insolent boy from the Dark Lord at all cost – for her. For Lily.

Determined not to waste even more time, Snape headed for the dungeons to contact Albus Dumbledore, and if something in his chest clenched on his way, he silenced it mercilessly.

---

"I agree with your thesis, Severus. Harry's vision could be a valuable glimpse into Tom's thoughts," Dumbledore said through Snape's piece of the two-way-mirror.

The Potions master sat in an armchair in his chambers, holding the item with one hand in front of him.

"Therefore, I fear, I cannot postpone telling Harry about the prophecy any longer," Dumbledore continued. "I need you to bring him to Grimmauld Place as soon as he returns form the forest, Severus."

"I will."

Dumbledore's reflection in the mirror nodded. "I'll ask Kingsley to come to Grimmauld Place tonight as well. We need to discuss how to proceed with the Ministry regarding the formal dismissal of our dear Dolores, now that she has finally given us an opportunity to call for it, and how to initiate my restoration."

Snape scowled. "It's about time, Albus. As I already told you, from tonight on, I would have been on probation as well, and I don't know how long I could have delayed her request for new Veritaserum."

"I know, Severus," said Dumbledore in a sigh; even through this small piece of glass, the Headmaster appeared weary to Snape. "Yet, I am hopeful that this unfortunate chapter will finally come to end over the next days."

"Unfortunate, indeed," said Snape with a sneer.

"I'll see you at Grimmauld Place, Severus," said the old man, his reflection slowly fading from mirror until the surface turned blank again.

Snape leaned back and rested his head against the cool leather of the armchair, a frown deep between his brows. Right to the beginning of his mirror-call, he had expressed his concern about Potter and Miss Granger being probably wandless in the Forbidden Forest. Yet, the Headmaster had been merely intrigued and amused by the girl's claim that she would show Umbridge his "weapon", and he had dismissed his spy's suggestion to follow them.

"You should have a little more faith in Miss Granger, Severus. I think our dear Dolores is in for a very big surprise," the old man had said, his eyes twinkling.

Snape snorted. As if he hadn't already enough faith in the annoying girl. However, for all he knew, she was freely risking expulsion or worse for Potter's sake.

Foolish, foolish Gryffindor.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before he rose from the armchair and walked to his desk, placing the two-way-mirror safely back into the drawer.

His fingers were still lingering on the handle when he felt a well-known spark of magic tingle on his left forearm, and awareness gripped him with iron claws. He was about to be summoned, and a heartbeat later, the surge of Dark magic already rushed through his veins, and his Mark burned.

Snape squeezed his eyes shut and drew a ragged breath.

No.

Not now.

This was the call he wasn't to answer, and not answering the Dark Lord's call would be painful. Very painful.

The one time he had ignored a Summoning, his supposed Master's magic had still been weakened from his return and the transition into his current form, and even then, disobeying the call of the Dark Mark had been agonizing.

However, ignoring the Summoning tonight would probably come close to the experience of a prolonged Cruciatus. Even so, the mad man had ordered him to ignore the call.

Of course. Snape felt a bitter laugh catch in his throat. It had to be a punishment not to join the Dark Lord's side, after all.

Though, the pain was the least that worried him right now. He would be a fool if he thought the Summoning and Potter's vision to be mere coincidences. The Dark Lord was setting his plan in motion, a plan the Order had still no single reliable evidence about. They were completely in the dark about what was going to happen...and when.

Therefore, the boy had to get to a safe place as soon as possible, and Snape knew, knew all too well from bitter experience, that over the course of the next minutes, the burning Mark on his forearm would weaken his magic so much that he would no longer be able to Apparate Potter to Grimmauld Place himself.

Determined, he yanked the drawer open again and seized once again the two-way-mirror to call the Headmaster.

"Albus Dumbledore!" he called urgently.

However, it took precious minutes for the Headmaster's reflection to appear in the mirror while the Dark magic in his spy's veins spread with every heartbeat, robbing him slowly of his senses.

"Severus, I didn't expect your call so soon." Dumbledore's voice eventually echoed through room.

"Damn it, Albus, I am summoned," Snape bit out. "I'll have to order the elf to take the boy to Grimmauld Place."

"I understand," said Dumbledore gravely, already vanishing from the mirror. "I'll be at Headquarters as soon as I can."

Snape threw the magical item with a clattering sound onto his desk.

"Dobby," he called through gritted teeth.

With a quiet pop his unusual ally appeared in the living room. "Professor Snape has called Dobby, sir?"

"Of course, I did," snapped the Potions master impatiently. "Dobby, you have to..." Snape broke off and leaned against his desk. He drew a deep breath, trying to resist the tempting call of blissful unconsciousness, the edges of his vision already clouding with darkness.

"I need... I need you to go to the Astronomy Tower and watch out for Harry Potter. He is in the Forbidden Forest with Miss Granger and the Headmistress. If... if you see him return from the forest, you have to inform me immediately. And, Dobby, if I am not able to, you have to Apparate him to Grimmauld Place. Do you understand me? Harry Potter is in grave danger. You need to Apparate Harry Potter and Miss Granger to Grimmauld Place."

"Dobby understands." The elf jumped on to the desk top next to Snape, looking at him with a determination in his great eyes the Potions master hadn't seen there before. "I is always keeping Harry Potter safe. And Dobby will feed himself to Fluffy if he does it wrong," the elf said, giving the Potions master a thoughtful look. "And I is keeping Professor Snape's friend safe, too."

The air filled with another quiet pop, and the elf was gone. Had the spy been in his right mind, he would have laughed, laughed bitterly at the irony of how easily this tiny creature had seen through him. However, even before the meaning of Dobby's last words had the chance to trickle through the thick haze of pain in Snape's mind, another wave of pain jolted through him and his world went dark.

---

Hermione's fingers curled deep into the invisible mane of her Thestral while the outlines of Hogwarts in the warm twilight of sundown became smaller and smaller beneath her. She would have wished that it was only because of the height that the sight caused fear to rise red-hot in her throat. But she knew better.

Going to the Ministry was a mistake. Not telling a soul where they were going was a mistake. It was all a horrible mistake, and she knew it. She was deliberately making it, as there had been nothing she could have done to prevent it.

She swallowed, her gaze searching for Harry. He was flying at the head, leading the small group into the starless night ahead of them.

Harry.

He had been so certain that Sirius was in danger, so determined to save him, and so full of fear to lose the one person he had left of his family.

Nothing and nobody could have stopped him.

Therefore, going back to the castle, going back to let Professor Snape know what Harry had truly seen and have him inform the Order, like her mind had told her to do, had been impossible, as it would have meant letting her friends go to the Ministry alone...

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, holding even closer to the magical being carrying her higher and higher into the sky.

It was all a mistake they were making. A grave and dangerous mistake. But she would not let Harry and Ron go to face Voldemort alone.

She could have never done that.

She would never do that.

Never.

---

The first thing he felt was the cold. The cold was everywhere. And then came the pain, the sharp pain in his head, every time he tried to open his eyes.

Snape groaned as he made another attempt to get up from the floor, propping himself up on one elbow.

He didn't know how long he had passed out. However, the flames in the fireplace had faded away, exposing his living room to the cool darkness of the dungeons, something the elves always saw to around twelve o'clock in the evening.

He ran an unsteady hand over his face, realizing he must have regained consciousness on the other side of midnight. A time by when the boy had to be already at Grimmauld Place.

If all has gone well...

The uncertainty that accompanied the sudden thought forced Snape to finally rise from the cold stone floor with unsteady legs.

"Dobby!" he called, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Momentarily, the elf appeared next to him, his head hanging, defeated. When he caught Snape's gaze, a tiny wail escaped him and he threw himself on the floor, banging his head against the stone.

Snape felt his throat tighten with foreboding and bent swiftly down to seize the tiny creature at the back of its maroon sweater, pulling Dobby up to look at him.

"Stop it, elf," he ordered. "Where is Harry Potter?"

Another wail filled the room. "Dobby is watching and watching, but no Harry Potter has come back. I only sees more of Harry Potter's friends going into the Forbidden Forest, but no Harry Potter coming back." The elf sighed, his ears drooping sadly. "No Harry Potter."

"More of Harry Potter's friends?" Snape asked, and Dobby nodded enthusiastically, his huge green eyes lightening up in the obvious hope that he had revealed at least some good news.

But Snape felt his breath hitch with realization.

No.

It couldn't be...

He stumbled back against his desk, his hands searching for the solidness of the wood beneath his fingers.

He didn't know how Potter had done it, but suddenly he knew, knew with an undeniable certainty that the insolent boy had gone to London, had gone to the Department of Mysteries...and, presumably, right into the Dark Lord's net, and Potter had taken his friends... had taken the foolish girl with him.

Pushing himself away from the desk, Snape yanked the drawer open once more, ignoring the elf who observed him with fearful eyes.

He grasped the mirror and called out, "Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Immediately, the Auror appeared in the reflection of the mirror.

"Snape, what's happened? Dumbledore told us you would be with Harry at Grimmauld Place by now." The loud, deep voice of the wizard resounded through the Potions master's chambers.

"Is the Headmaster already there?" Snape asked, ignoring the question.

"Not yet. But we expect him any minute," said Shacklebolt.

"Listen," said Snape, "Potter hasn't returned from the forest with Umbridge yet."

"Snape, where the hell is my godson?" called the upset voice of Sirius Black through the mirror, but the Potions master went on.

"Shacklebolt, I cannot confirm it but am confident that Potter and his friends left Hogwarts for the Ministry in a moment of supposed Gryffindor heroism, some time this evening. Probably, the boy still believes Black to be in the Dark Lord's hands."

"I understand." The Auror nodded. "We'll go to the Ministry and search for them."

"I'll do the same in the forest," said Snape.

"I'm coming with you, Kingsley," demanded Black somewhere in the background, and Snape's fingers curled tighter around the magical item in his hand.

"Black, don't be a fool, you can't go with them. It would be madness to walk freely into the Ministry; even at this time of the night, there will be guards, and somebody has to stay behind to inform Dumbledore when he arrives."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Snivellus."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for calm while a storm of angry voices broke out on the other side of the mirror.

"Sirius, listen..."

"No, Remus, he is my godson."

"Sirius, I understand how you feel, but you can't come with us."

"I'd like to see you stop me, Kingsley."

"Remus is right, Sirius."

"Sirius, please..."

"Don't know, what ya're all planning to do all evening, but I'll go and fetch the boy now." Moody's voice roared from somewhere far away, and Snape's eyes snapped open as he heard a door being slammed. A moment later, the mirror in his hand turned blank.

Swearing, the spy shoved the magical item into his pocket and headed out of his chambers and for the Forbidden Forest, hoping he would soon need it to inform the old man that it had all been a false alarm, and Potter and Miss Granger only were somewhere lost in the woods.

---

Hermione shuddered. For the first time since they had entered the church-high hall, filled with countless shelves of those dusty glass spheres, she truly felt it. The cold. The cold was suddenly everywhere. Even the light from the candle-brackets appeared chilly to her, now.

Sirius wasn't here. And somehow, Hermione knew, knew deep down, that he had never been here. Her gaze flew along the aisle where her friends stood. On both sides, the small path led to nothing but darkness.

Dangerous darkness.

Hermione drew a deep breath. "Harry?"

"What?" her black-haired friend snarled in return, but she could hear a fear similar to her own waver in his voice.

"I... I don't think Sirius is here." It was the truth, and it tasted painful and bitter on her tongue, yet not as painful and bitter as the telling silence afterwards. Harry knew. He knew that he had led them here, to this place and into possible danger...for nothing.

From far away, through the deafening sound of her own blood thrumming like thunder in her ears, Hermione heard Ron's claim about Harry's name being on one of those glass balls, and her gaze drifted to the shelf and to the dusty glass spheres next to the one her black-haired friend regarded.

For the first time, the similarity between those glass spheres and the crystal balls in Professor Trewlaney's office struck her, while her eyes strayed over those yellowish labels that seemed to accompany each one of them.

There were two others besides the one with Harry's name that held the inscription S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. One mentioned "The Dark Lord" together with Wormtail's names, the other held Professor Snape's name accompanied by a question mark.

Hermione's gaze lingered, mesmerized, on the peculiar items, and foreboding settled icily in her stomach. Whatever those glass spheres were, whatever they contained, they concerned two people she knew...even cared about.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Harry's hand reaching for the ball in front of him.

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," she said quickly and a bit harsher than she had wanted to, but fear wove a sharp edge into her voice.

"Why not? It's something to do with me, isn't it," her friend said, irritated.

However, a movement behind her let Hermione's attention drift away from Harry.

She turned around and froze. Before her eyes, only meters away, the hooded figure of a Death Eater emerged out of the darkness in the aisle...a sight as if taken from the darkest corners of her soul, and it paralyzed her with unknown fear.

For uncounted moments, she stood speechless, motionless, hoping for the impossible, for the ghost of a chance that the hooded figure in front of her was nothing more than Professor Snape in disguise, her professor who had come for them before Voldemort's myrmidons did.

It was only when she heard the cold, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy ordering Harry to hand him the glass ball that she forced herself to turn around, finding Bellatrix Lestrange pointing her wand straight at her heart, and cognition crushed the small, impossible flicker of hope in her chest mercilessly.

Hermione swallowed. This was it, the one nightmare she couldn't wake up from, and even if Professor Snape were among those Death Eaters, he wouldn't be able to protect them, not without revealing himself as Dumbledore's man...and by that, risking his life.

The realization curled icily around her racing heart, and it skipped a beat, suddenly torn between wishing and fearing that her professor was somewhere out there in the darkness.

---

Snape forced his way through the darkness. He was already so deep in the Forbidden Forest that he was sure he would have found them by now if Potter and Miss Granger where still somewhere out there in the woods. And somewhere, deep down, he knew that they weren't here anymore, knew where they had gone and knew the danger Potter and the foolish girl were in right now...and it felt like a nightmare blending into reality.

When Potter had vanished in the maze almost a year ago, he had felt the anxiety, an anxiety that had turned into silent horror once his Mark had flared, only for it to become determination when he had returned to the Dark Lord's side two hours later. But never, never in over two decades had he felt that kind of mind-numbing fear, and it began to tear at his soul with wild, cold claws when, in front of him, a slivery-blue phoenix appeared out of the darkness of the woods, and he realized what it meant. The old man had found them.

The graceful creature batted its wings, landing gracefully in front of him, and then, the phoenix opened his beak, and he heard Dumbledore's voice, and the blood in his veins felt like ice.

"Harry is alive and safe, Severus. The prophecy is destroyed. However, we lost Sirius and have several injured students. Miss Granger is in a critical condition, I fear. Remus and the others will Apparate them to the front gate immediately. I've already sent a Patronus message to inform Poppy. She'll need your help."

He closed his eyes, and for a long moment he felt nothing, nothing but the beast that was his fear swallowing him whole.

With trembling hands, he drew his wand, breathed in, breathed out, and breathed in again until he found the strength to Apparate back to the castle.

The moment he appeared on the luscious lawns, he saw the small battered group at the front gate in the twilight before dawn. He could have reached them within seconds. However, for an endless moment, he stood paralyzed, struck by a long forgotten terror at the sight of the werewolf carrying the lifeless form of a young woman in his arms.

And his heart... his helpless heart lurched with so much pain, he thought everything he had left of it would finally shatter into pieces.

It took every effort to banish the whirlwind of memories and emotions from his mind...his being, and even before he truly realized it his legs moved, and he headed towards the small group.

He reached the werewolf first and met Lupin's terrified gaze briefly before he drew a deep breath, and his eyes drifted to the lifeless girl the werewolf was holding.

Her skin was ashen, while two dark bruises on her face and the angry red of a large bloody cut that ran from her breastbone up to her throat stood out against her pallor. Quickly, his fingers searched for her pulse, and something in his chest clenched at the feel of the weak pounding beneath his fingertips.

Still there.

Alive.

She was alive.

"What happened?" he asked accusatorily, never looking away from the unconscious girl while he cast several diagnostic spells. Her magic was weak, so very weak, almost fading away.

"I don't know. She was cursed before we arrived," said Lupin, defeated.

"I'll take her from here," Snape commanded, meeting the werewolf's eyes again as he spread his arms, gesturing for Lupin to place the girl there. When he saw the flicker of doubt in the werewolf's amber eyes, he added, "Miss Granger needs to get the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible, Lupin. And you are in no condition to take her."

The werewolf nodded, obviously aware that he was as exhausted from the night's event as he appeared to Snape, and a second later, the unconscious girl rested safely in his arms, her limp form feeling far, far too fragile for his sanity.

Already turning to leave, a thought struck him and he barked, "Weasley, quick, what colour had the spell that hit her?"

However, it was Longbottom who answered, "Purple, sir, cast nonverbally. Looked like a flame."

Dolohov.

The name, the realization hit him like a fist, and for a second, the air in his lungs felt too solid, too heavy to breathe.

The girl had been cursed with a spell of Antonin's own creation, one that was designed to slowly poison the victim's magic; even if it was true what the boy said, and Dolohov had only cast the curse nonverbally, it still had the potential to claim the girl's life.

Snape swore and set out for the castle as fast as his legs carried him.

He reached the abandoned Entrance Hall within minutes and ascended the enchanted stairs towards the Hospital Wing. However, somewhere on his way, between the first floor and the second floor, he nearly stumbled and leaned for a moment against the wall to gather his strength, his gaze straying to the girl in his arms.

She was so pale, oh-so pale, and barely breathing. If the girl died... if she died, right here in his arms tonight...

Snape sucked in a breath and pushed himself from the wall, forcing his exhausted legs to move.

"Don't you dare, don't you even dare and try to die on me Miss Granger," he ordered, helplessly. Taking the next flight of stairs, his arms tightened around her limp form, holding her even closer to his chest. "Do you hear me, Hermione? Hold on; don't leave me. We are almost there... almost there."

Yet, there was no response, not even a slight stirring, no sign to placate the beast of fear that haunted him; the girl in his arms remained still.

After what seemed like an endless eternity, he reached the Hospital Wing. With a forceful kick of his right foot, he pushed the doors open, striding swiftly inside.

"Poppy!" Snape bellowed.

Immediately, the mediwitch was at his side. "What happened to her?"

"Dark curse. It's poisoning her magic," he said while he placed the unconscious girl on one of the hospital beds that stood more separated.

"Do you know how to counter..."

"Not yet." He cut off the question as he grasped the wrist of the girl's wand hand and pulled her sleeve up, finding what he had feared. A black line was spreading from her pulse point to her elbow. When he brushed the collar of her blouse aside, he saw similar fine dark lines fraying along the curse wound on her breastbone. If the thread from her pulse point spread further, if the poisoning went on, soon her inner organs would stop to function, and if it reached her heart...

Snape's lips thinned and he ran his wand once more over the curse wound.

It should be an easy task for him to remove a Dark curse of Dolohov's mediocre quality, yet the effect of removing the curse would be merely like removing the poisonous quill from a wound; the harm was already done, the curse had already affected the girl's magic, and he could only hope that the poisoning effect of the Dark magic could be stopped with the potions ingredients at his disposal.

"Poppy, I need all Phoenix tears you have in store. Quick. And tell Dobby to bring every bottle of Felix Felicis and my emergency kit from the lab, he'll know where to find them," he ordered, his worried gaze on Miss Granger's ashen face as he placed his palm on her forehead.

Cold. So cold. Almost like death.

Snape shook his head imperceptibly. He wouldn't allow for the girl to die, not today, not on his watch. Wasn't he supposed to able to put a stopper in death after all?

From the corner of his eye, he saw the mediwitch vanish and heard how she drew the curtains next to the bed forward before casting a Silencing Spell on the small niche of the Hospital Wing.

He bent slightly over the girl's unconscious form and placed the tip of his wand close to the curse wound on her chest. The frown between his brows deepened as his mind focussed on the counter-spell. As expected, Dolohov's curse broke at the first attempt.

While murmuring several incantations he hoped would slow the poisoning of the girl's magic, Snape threw a quick glance over his shoulder, waiting impatiently for the mediwitch's return.

But it was Lupin who emerged with his required resources, next to the hospital bed, only moments later.

"Poppy is tending to the other students," the werewolf explained, placing several bottles on the bedside cabinet.

Snape nodded briefly, never taking his eyes from the girl in front of him, monitoring the spread of dark line on her skin. "Hand me the Phoenix tears."

Lupin followed his order, and he took the bottle and uncorked it. His brows creased in concentration as he inclined the flask with the colourless liquid and dribbled several drops carefully into the wound on the girl's chest.

The effect was immediate but not as much as he had hoped for. The wound on the girl's breastbone closed within heartbeats, but while the spreading of dark path on her forearm appeared to come to a halt, the line and the Dark magic it carried refused to vanish, still affecting her body and magic.

The girl would have to fight those far-spread residues of darkness, would have to fight the last head of the monster all on her own, and all he could do was to provide her...unconscious as she was...with the magical substances to support this fight.

Frowning, Snape moved to the bedside cabinet, ignoring the fearful look the werewolf gave him. But Lupin knew better than to articulate the unspoken question out loud.

He unstopped the remaining flasks standing in front of him before he seized a larger bottle with Felix Felicis and emptied it in a single gulp.

His mind raced as his hands flew over the items on the cabinet. He needed to get more Phoenix tears into Miss Granger's blood cycle but, as fighting the Dark magic of the curse would be strength sapping for her body as well, he needed to provide her with something here, too.

Snape took a small bowl from his potions emergency kit and placed small slices of Mandrake roots inside, powdering them before he mixed the Mandrake powder with the remaining Phoenix tears at his disposal.

Grasping another bottle of Felix Felicis, he hesitated a moment before he poured the golden liquid into the small bowl as well. The mixture was a leap of faith in the combined strength of the single ingredients, nothing more. But it was all he had.

Snape seized the small bowl and turned around. "I need you to hold her upright, Lupin. She has to swallow this."

The werewolf nodded, lifted the girl carefully, and moved to sit behind her, supporting her limp upper body with his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

For the first time, she stirred slightly, the healing effect of the Phoenix tears bringing her closer the realm of consciousness.

Carefully, Snape placed the bowl between her pale lips and inclined the small object. When the thick golden liquid began to flow into her mouth, his right hand moved to massage the girl's throat with soft pressure to initiate a swallowing reflex, and within seconds, he felt her larynx bounce beneath his fingers, once, twice, a third time, until she coughed and eventually swallowed the mixture from the bowl.

"Well done, Miss Granger."

At the sound of her name, her eyes fluttered open and, for the heartbeat of a moment, her glazed gaze focussed on him.

"You... are here... sir."

The words came out in nothing more than a weak whisper, yet to him they sounded like salvation, and he ignored the curious glance the werewolf cast him at the girl's unusual reaction to his presence.

"Astute as always, Miss Granger. Of course, I am here." Whenever you need me, you foolish girl.

However, she had already succumbed to Morpheus' call again before the words had truly left his lips.

"Is she going to be all right, Severus?" the werewolf asked, placing the girl back onto the propped-up pillow.

Snape frowned and grasped the girl's wrist. The black line had nearly crossed the crook of her right arm. "We'll have to wait, Lupin. Even with the combined help of the Phoenix tears, Mandrake roots and Felix Felicis in her blood, her body and magic still have to fight the residues of the curse on its own."

The werewolf's face fell and he closed his eyes, stricken. "Harry already lost Sirius tonight, I don't know how..." He trailed off, his voice cracking.

"You don't know how to tell Potter that his own recklessness not only led to the death of his godfather tonight but could cost his supposed best friend her life as well?" Snape scoffed, cold fury searing the pit of his stomach. "I am touched, Lupin, I really am."

Before the werewolf had a chance to respond, the girl stirred in her sheets with a painful groan.

Snape darted forward and placed his hand once more on her forehead. Her skin was glowing.

"It has begun," he stated. "She is fighting the Dark magic."

"Anything we can do for her?"

Snape sneered. "Nothing the likes of you could accomplish, Lupin. Go. Take care of your precious boy."

The werewolf threw him a cold glare. "As you wish, Severus."

Lupin turned to leave and Snape silently conjured a large bowl and a pile of towels from thin air, placing his wand at the edge of the round item. He cast a silent Aguamenti, and a fountain of water sprung from the tip of the wood before he placed the bowl aside. He was about to tear a towel into two pieces when the mediwitch appeared at his side.

"How is she?" Poppy asked, running her wand over the girl's unconscious form.

"She has begun to fight the curse's residues after I administered Phoenix tears and Mandrake roots. She is terribly weak and we need to keep her temperature down; I don't dare to cast a Cooling Charm as I don't know if it'll interfere with the Dark magic of the curse. So, I'm opting for the Muggle way," Snape said, grimacing.

Poppy nodded. "Let me lend you a hand," she said, already removing the girl's shoes and, with a swift wave of her wand, changing the girl's clothing into a hospital nightshirt.

"How are the others?" Snape asked as he wetted the first piece of towel and handed it to the mediwitch.

She cast him a rueful look before she wrapped the moist cloth around the girl's calf. "Better than I expected: broken ankles, scarred skin and cursed noses but, most of all, bruised egos. Nothing the proper potions and an extra amount of sleep couldn't cure."

Snape snorted and placed a cool piece of cloth around the girl's wrist, his gaze straying to her heated face, her brows creased in pain.

"Mr. Weasley has already asked for her," said the mediwitch, casting him a worried look.

Snape frowned and placed the last wet cloth on the girl's forehead. "Try to postpone the boy somehow."

Poppy nodded. "Is there anything else we can do for Miss Granger, Severus?"

"Nothing. Nothing, but wait," said Snape, not able to keep the bitter timbre from his voice as he conjured an armchair next to him. "I'll stay here until we can be sure she is out of danger."

"Anything I can do for you?" the mediwitch asked with a sympathetic look.

Snape shook his head and let himself fall onto the chair, his eyes lingering on the rays of light the early morning sun cast on the floor through the large hospital window behind Miss Granger's bed.

The only thing he wanted in that very moment was something he couldn't have, something he would have to wait for until the girl opened those annoying soulful eyes and looked at him again.

---

He didn't know how much time had passed until the mediwitch returned. When Poppy Pomfrey appeared at his side again, he was once more changing the cloth on the girl's forehead. Her temperature still refused to decline, and the small groans of pain that had accompanied her fight over what had to be hours pierced his ears...and his heart.

"Albus would like to speak with you," said Poppy softly.

Snape squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the rush of anger that jolted through him. "Poppy, would you please inform our omniscient Headmaster that if he wants so desperately to talk with me, he will have to leave that ivory tower of his, as I am quite busy at the moment. In fact, I am saving one of his students, as he should be fucking aware of by now."

Only when he had already finished his speech, he felt the old man's hand on his shoulder. His gaze flew up and met the Headmaster's tired, blue eyes.

"Although you appear to think otherwise, I am fucking aware, as you have so eloquently put it, Severus, that you are doing everything to save Miss Granger's life," Dumbledore said sadly, and the old man's gaze strayed to the girl. "How is she?"

"Well, Miss Granger has still to regain consciousness for more than a few seconds; she is extremely weak, her temperature is high, but not too high, considering the fact that she is fighting the Dark magic of a curse she was subjected to over an unknown timeframe. I would presume, if she doesn't develop a fever that could lead to a magically-induced coma in the next twelve hours, she will live, and if she is lucky, there will be no lingering side effects as well," Snape said with barely contained anger, and turned to the Headmaster, frowning. "So, Albus, you tell me, how Miss Granger is?"

Now, it was the old man at his side who closed his eyes for a long moment; Snape felt his anger oddly abate as he saw the dried trails of tears on the wrinkled face in front of him.

"I'd wish there was better news, Severus." Dumbledore sighed, defeated. "Especially as I have to ask you to accompany me for a few hours." And then, the old man looked at him again with those tired blue eyes that chilled him to the bone.

Snape gave him a curt nod. He knew that while he had allowed the fear for the girl to push every burning question regarding the events last night to a far corner of his mind during the last hours, it was essential and long about time he learned the details of the incident at the Department of Mysteries.

Dumbledore turned to the mediwitch. "Poppy, I need you to watch over Miss Granger while Severus is away."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded and moved to leave while Snape's gaze lingered on Miss Granger's pale face; for the first time in hours, it truly sank in how close he had come...and still was...to losing her...she who had given him with her trust and kindness, with every undeserved smile the only things bright in his world.

He swallowed, hard, but the bitter lump in his throat wouldn't go away, and he forced himself to look away and meet the mediwitch's gaze.

"If there is the slightest change for the worse in Miss Granger's condition, Poppy, I want you to send Dobby to fetch me. He'll know where to find me. I need you to..."

A motherly smile spread on Poppy Pomfrey's face while he spoke, one she hadn't given him since he had been a student, and she cut him short. "I will, Severus. Go now; Albus is already waiting for you."

Snape nodded and approached the Headmaster, who stood at the edge of the small hospital niche, watching him intently over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

He walked silently at the old man's side through the Hospital Wing when he met the murderous glare Potter gave him from across the room. The boy was sitting on the side of Weasley's bed, together with the red-head's sister, Longbottom and the Ravenclaw girl. And for the first time since the night's events, Snape felt the weight of those green eyes settled heavily on his heart.

He saw how the youngest Weasley followed the boy's gaze and turned around, recognizing the headmaster and him. Momentarily, she rose and approached them quickly.

"Headmaster, Professor Snape, is Hermione all right? Is she awake? Can we see her?"

The old man placed a wrinkled hand on the girl's shoulder. "Unfortunately, not yet, Miss Weasley. Some things take time, my dear. But Professor Snape here has done his utmost that our Miss Granger will soon be back in Gryffindor Tower."

The red-head's gaze flew to him, believing, hoping; and he as much as he tried, no snide remark to turn Miss Weasley away, to deny her the reassurance she was searching formed on his tongue. Who was he to deny her hope when all he had left himself in this very moment was hope, hope that the old man's words were true, that he had really done his utmost, and the girl would live?

He swallowed, imperceptibly.

"I am quite confident, Miss Weasley, that Miss Granger will soon be well enough to make herself a nuisance again."

Without looking back, without waiting for the Gryffindor's response, he headed for the door, the lie tasting bittersweet on his tongue.

---

Snape leaned against banister of the enchanted stairs, arms crossed in front of his chest, when the old man caught up with him, waiting for Dumbledore to take the lead.

Quickly, they ascended the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

When they stepped inside, the spy cast a glance around before he asked quietly, "So, what has happened at the Ministry that was so important that it couldn't wait until the girl was out of danger, Albus?"

Dumbledore sighed and walked to one of the large windows of his office, his gaze seemingly lingering on something far, far away. "I probably should have told you earlier today, Severus, but I felt you had already enough on your shoulders with Miss Granger's life hanging by a thread."

Snape frowned, and worry, the ungracious herald of fear, seized his chest when the Headmaster turned around, looking suddenly exhausted and old, oh-so old.

"Tom has revealed himself last night, Severus. Kingsley and Remus will fill you in on the full details of the events, as I happened to be there only as the battle came to a close. However, as of now there is little hope that we can postpone a second war for much longer, I fear. That's why I need you at the Order meeting that's about to start at Grimmauld Place."

It took a long moment for Dumbledore's words to truly sink in, but then, he felt his world shift on its axis. It was too soon, all too soon; Potter wasn't prepared yet. Merlin, the boy wasn't even of age by now, let alone ready to defeat the Dark Lord.

"Severus." The old man calling his name drew his mind back to their conversation. "There is more; Lucius Malfoy led the attack at the Department of Mysteries...he is on his way to Azkaban right now. So, Tom lost his right hand last night."

Snape curled his fingers deep into the backrest of one of the velvet armchairs that occupied the Headmaster's office as he waited for the old man to go on, waited for what he knew what was about to come, waited for those words to open the trapdoor beneath him, sending him on a journey of no return, into a world of endless darkness.

"And once again, you already know what I must ask you to do, Severus; when the storm breaks the Order will need the information, and Tom would be suspicious if you not step up to claim Lucius' place as your rightful one."

The Dark Lord's right hand...

The final stage of hell.

The room seemed to spin around him, his heart beating far, far too slowly, but when his eyes fell closed, he saw her, saw her smile that reached her emerald green gaze, her gaze filled with caring tenderness, and he knew, for her, he could.

For Lily.

"Of course, Albus."

---

It was already after midnight when Snape entered the Hospital Wing again, exhausted. The Order meeting had been long and tiring, and most of all, it had been a waste of time.

They would need to wait to plan any substantial strategy until the Dark Lord summoned him again, something that was unlikely in the next days as the mad man always bided his time to gather his followers when his plans had experienced a setback. And this time, he hadn't just experienced a simple setback; this time, he had suffered a stunning defeat.

"Any changes, Poppy?" he asked when he saw the meditwich approach him.

The mediwitch smiled. "Miss Granger has yet to wake up, but her magic is getting stronger, her temperature has begun to decline and the line on her forearm is fading. The worst is over, Severus."

Snape felt his breath catch with what he refused to admit was a silent sob of relief and looked away.

Only when a hand was placed softly on his upper arm, he turned and met the mediwitch's warm gaze. "You did great today, Severus. The girl would have been lost without you."

Snape gave her a curt nod and walked slowly to the secluded hospital niche, thankful that the mediwitch knew better than to follow him.

For an eternity or two, he simply stood next to the girl's bed, eyes lingering on her face, listening to her calm breathing before he turned to the beside cabinet and took a cloth from the bowl with cool water.

He bent slightly forward and dabbed her heated forehead gently and wetted her lips with the small piece of fabric. For a moment, he thought...hoped...she would wake up, but when she didn't, he called quietly for Dobby and requested a book from his nightstand, settling himself into the armchair.

---

It was far into the night when he finally heard a stirring beneath the sheets and looked up from his book and rose from the chair. He waited at the bedside until her eyes fluttered slowly open and could see that she was still disorientated when she turned her head to him, struggling her way out of the haze of unconsciousness, but when her gaze met his, a soft smile touched her lips, and his chest filled with the strangest emotion.

Never before in his life had somebody awoken to his presence with a smile.

However, that small miracle of a smile faltered only heartbeats later when shadows of awareness crossed the girl's face, the memory of the night's events obviously returning, and fear crept into her hazel eyes.

"Ron? Harry?" she called in an anxious whisper, struggling to get up. "Where are they, Professor? Are they alright?"

Quickly, he placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, guiding her with soft pressure back onto the propped-up pillow.

"Mr. Weasley and Potter are safe and well, as are Miss Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, something we didn't dare to say about you until a few moments ago. Therefore, I must insist that you lie back and rest."

He watched her relax visibly as she followed his request and felt an unusual swell of pride, realizing that her worst fears could be calmed by his word alone.

"How do you feel, Miss Granger?"

"Drowsy and my chest itches." Her nose wrinkled slightly. "Otherwise I am fine, I believe, sir."

"I see," he said, handing her a bottle of Strengthening Potion mixed with several more drops of Phoenix tears and Felix Felicis as well as a dose of Dreamless Sleep. "You need to drink those."

"I see?" she asked, taking the bottles from him, and her brows creased with obvious confusion as she swallowed the draughts. "Does that mean something good or bad?"

Snape placed his palm gently on her forehead, biding his time. The girl's temperature had dropped remarkably, and he felt himself smile as he said, "You are safe and will soon be well again, Miss Granger."

"Oh," she breathed, her large hazel eyes observing him thoughtfully.

And then, the girl surprised them both when she grasped the hand he had been about to remove from her forehead, and only after the moment of an incredulous heartbeat, he had convinced himself that it were merely the mixture of potions coursing through her system that guided her actions.

"And you? Are you safe and well, Professor?" she asked in a whisper, and he felt defenceless.

"I–I am."

She sighed, relieved, and turned his hand in hers and – as if to convince herself of his words – brushed her thumb over the healed skin of his palm, a gesture so gentle, so innocent, it stole the air from his lungs, rendering him unable to deny her the liberty she so freely took.

"I was so afraid," she said quietly, her eyes lingering on his hand. "I thought if you were there, Professor, if you were one of them, you might be forced to reveal your true alliance and endanger yourself as well because of our foolishness." She looked up and searched his gaze, her eyes sad and bright.

He swallowed, trying to keep his throat from tightening with the bittersweet mix of guilt and affection her words evoked.

"The Order saved you and your friends. I wasn't there. I couldn't be; but I would never have allowed... I would never have hurt..." he trailed off and looked away, dark curtains of hair falling forward as if they could hide the folly in those wishful words from her, words that had tumbled so carelessly from his lips.

The girl was right. He wouldn't have been able to protect her and her friends without giving his alliance away, without risking the cause... his vow.

And what if there had been a chance to keep his cover intact by merely saving Potter and leaving her behind? What would he have done then to keep her safe... to deserve the trust in those hazel eyes?

Nothing.

The word echoed through his mind, echoed through him until the icy breath of truth reached his heart, and he felt cold, so very cold, and the only warmth left was her small hand on his skin.

He didn't know how long it took until he found the courage in his heart to search the girl's gaze again; however, when he finally did, he had to realize that the potions had done their work and sleep had claimed her. Though, her small hand held still tightly on to his, and he felt unable to withdraw it, to deny himself the small comfort of her innocent touch.

Carefully, in the safeness of the half-light of the infirmary, he sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded the girl.

Her brown, unruly curls spilled over the pillow and framed her face; her pale, young face, still marked by fading bruises...the last reminders of the night's events. However, she would live, and she was safe...for now. A miracle, given that the girl had fought not less than half a dozen grown Death Eaters the night before.

Foolish little lioness.

The ghost of a smile danced around the corners of his mouth. Minerva would be so proud of her.

And, as if on its own accord, his hand strayed away from hers and reached out and long fingers brushed...in the barest of touch...a tedious curl gently from her forehead.

"Sleep, little lioness. You will need all your strength in the days to come."

---

The midday sun cast glittering circles through the windows of his office when Dumbledore emerged from the Pensieve and from the memory of a scene he had witnessed without being noticed several days earlier.

He waited for the witch next to him to lift her face from the stone basin as well before he searched her gaze, a thoughtful expression in his blue eyes.

"Minerva, I never thought...could my interpretation be wrong? I mean, we always wondered..." he broke off.

"Nonsense. There is no being wrong here, Albus. You forget that, in the end, it isn't fate, but the witch or the wizard who chooses. And as I've tried to tell you before, the choice hasn't been made."

Dumbledore nodded and closed the wing doors of the cabinet shielding the magical stone basin.

Had someone other than him decided to visit the infirmary during that night, he would have found his Potions master sitting at the beside of a young woman, silently watching over her like the guarding gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office.

Severus had not left before the dawn.

---

I wrote and rewrote, pondered, struggled, and wibbled and wrote again, and the muse wanted the chapter just as it is...

Reviews are love :)