Chapter 35

Chapter 35

His worst fear, worst nightmare, come true.

The cure. It hadn't worked. Failed.

He'd failed.

'Hermione...'

A wail of grief, dimly heard through the door, echoed his mental cry. Helen's voice, distorted almost beyond recognition. And broken sobbing.

"There, there, love. This one didn't work, but the next will. Severus'll work it out."

"He will, he's got to."

Severus snarled. He lashed out, sending everything on the tabletop crashing to the floor. No satisfaction, though. Nothing smashed. No way to make his surroundings match his internal turmoil, of his world falling apart. Nothing would break, not with Unbreakable Charms on everything.

Hands on the edge of the table, he heaved. Finally, it overturned with a deafening crash.

Gasping for breath, his shoulders slumped, his rage gone as quickly as it came. While he did not have Will's or Potter's confidence, he could not – would not – give up.

The lab was in disarray. Hopefully the one-way soundproofing had worked as intended and kept the noise from those outside. He didn't want anyone to witness the extent of his temper and despair. To shake their confidence in him, and in his stability. Not because he needed it himself, but her parents, her friends... They needed it.

Breathing slowly in and out, Severus focused on his Occlumency barriers, repairing the rents torn into them by his uncontrolled outburst. Giving his hands something to do helped, so he set about manually putting the room back to rights. He picked up his Omnioscope, inspecting it carefully. Thankfully, it appeared to be undamaged. Unbreakable Charms had worked just as well on such a complicated instrument as they had on a simple glass vial.

...Unless the charms had only worked on the exterior, and the interior of the Omnioscope was wrecked? One glance was enough to assure him that it was in working order, as the latest blood sample viewed was still displayed. And the plague's ghostly cellular form still mutated, too fast for the naked eye to see anything but a blur – he'd had to slow down the speed with the Omnioscope.

Just before Lucius and the others arrived at the door, he'd finished examining the fresh blood samples he'd taken from Hermione. Much as he wished he'd mixed the sample up, he knew he hadn't. The sample currently visible under the Omnioscope was from after he'd administered the cure. Yet no trace remained of the cure by the time he'd seen it. The plague had changed too much, completely different to what had been predicted.

Fighting back panic, he'd combined another dose of the cure with that sample of blood and seen the disaster unfold right before his horrified eyes: the plague destroyed the cure, leaving no trace behind.

Then he'd lost control. Understandable, yet he did not have time for it. Hermione didn't.

Back to the drawing board. And under even more pressure than before, with this deadline so close. His wife, facing her own mortality in less than forty-eight hours – if Severus couldn't formulate a successful cure.

No time.

What could he do?

Try the original cure again? But that almost failed during the last plague outbreak, and it was far more advanced now...

Go to Fawkes for some more tears and try those? But the reasons phoenix tears did not work before still held.

Unicorn blood? No. It only prolonged life, it did not heal. And besides the curse it carried, administering it to all of the witches worldwide would render unicorns extinct. 'For what? A little extra time, cursed time. So, for nothing.'

All he could do was try everything he could think of... Except the unicorn blood idea. Everything within reason, then.

But before he tried anything, he needed to share the bad news. Kingsley would be expecting a message. Severus had informed him of when the plague was predicted to strike again, after Hermione performed her reckless Arithmancy. Fawkes could spread the word fastest.

Even as he thought of him, Fawkes appeared. The flash of fire was somehow slightly dimmer. Perhaps the phoenix was worried about Hermione too?

Severus grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and scribbled a quick message. He pressed his wand tip to it, ready to duplicate it. And paused. He didn't know how many he would need. Instead, he scrawled a postscript. Kingsley could pass along the message to anyone else who should know.

He gave the parchment to Fawkes, who cocked his head at him expectantly. Waiting for something else... But what? There was no point sending the failed cure. Maybe the latest plague sample? If he included a copy of the information in his Omnioscope, perhaps someone else would have a brainwave. One of his colleagues on the research team, or someone at St. Mungo's. Because Severus was all too aware that he was running out of ideas.

And fast running out of time.

* * *

'Where am I?'

Hermione blinked. She felt like she'd just taken a single step forward, yet she was standing in the middle of the room. A room that felt familiar, yet she had no memory of ever being in it before. She looked around, examining her surroundings. A vast library, shelves lined with books as far as the eye could see. Like Hogwarts, or Malfoy Manor's libraries, yet on an even larger scale. She'd definitely remember this room if she'd been here before...

'Maybe I've come here before in my dreams. And those nightmares I can't remember are about having to leave here.'

She stepped closer to the nearest bookshelf. Every title on the leather-bound book spines looked interesting. Hermione chose one at random and took it from the shelf, flipping it open.

A hand slapped the book out of her grip before she could read a word.

"Don't!"

Hermione blinked again, her jaw dropping. Narcissa Malfoy stood beside her, placing one foot on the book as it tried to float from the floor. She bent to pick it up, putting it back on the shelf.

'Am I dreaming? I must be. She's dead.'

"Not again," Narcissa groaned. "Yes, I am dead. But this is no dream, girl. What did your friend Potter tell you of what happened after the Dark Lord tried to kill him?"

Voldemort had tried to kill Harry several times. Which did Narcissa mean?

"Of course, you cannot remember being told about that either... The Dark Lord killed Potter, but the Horcrux within him was destroyed in his place. Before Potter returned to life, he was in your place. On the threshold between life and death, where Dumbledore waited for him as I do for you."

"Harry's... threshold?... is a library?"

"No, this is your personal threshold. Potter's was some imaginary version of King's Cross. If he had caught a train, he would have died. Similarly, if you read a book here, you die."

Of course. As her Arithmancy indicated, the plague attacked her again forty-eight hours before she died. And she must have coughed up blood soon after that... She was dying.

"Then I just don't read anything. I won't die before the cure has time to work."

"That cure has failed."

'Oh, no... Severus. Don't you dare blame yourself.'

"Eventually you won't have any choice in the matter. The books will fly into your hands, and you won't be able to do anything but read."

At Narcissa's words, a book started to draw out of the shelf on its own volition. Hermione reached forward to push it back, but Narcissa swatted her hand out of the way and shoved the book back in.

"Touch a book and you will not be able to keep yourself from opening it," Narcissa snapped. She must have said those words before, more than once judging by her exasperated tone.

Hermione stepped back, her mind whirling. She had been here before, then. That must be why it felt so familiar. Each time she fell ill with the plague, she was taken here. And it would explain why she felt as though she were forgetting something each time she'd recovered... The cure had wiped her memory of it.

But then what were those nightmares about that she could never remember on waking? Memories of being here? That implied that the cure might only have locked them away, rather than wiping them entirely. Not that it mattered now. She had to survive first, and it would be a miracle if Severus managed to develop a new cure in time.

She was dying.

...And of all people, Narcissa Malfoy was her... guide? Threshold keeper?

"Why you? Why not Luna Lovegood, or Molly Weasley, or McGonagall, or Vector, or Madam Pomfrey? Sirius, or Remus, or... or Dumbledore, even?"

"Victims of what you call the plague can only converse with those dying of it. And why it should be you is something I assure you that I wondered at first. But then you married my Lucius."

"It's not..."

Narcissa slapped a book away with an impatient hand before it could reach Hermione. "I know perfectly well that you only regard him as a friend. And that his feelings for you are not love. He might not have ever been physically faithful to me, but he has always been emotionally. Still, the bonds of matrimony seem enough that I am bound here to you as..." She grimaced. "...counterparts."

"Then why me? I mean, why keep me alive?" Hermione pointedly looked at the book Narcissa had prevented from reaching her.

"I care nothing for you, true. But I do care for Lucius. He might not love you, but he will be hurt if another wife dies. And Severus... he saved Draco. He would be devastated. Those are reasons enough to try to save you. There are others, too."

"Others?" Hermione prompted.

"I might not like you, as someone of Muggle parentage and my replacement as Lucius's wife, but I do pity you. You are not much older than my own son, and dying already."

Hermione frowned. Was that really jealousy – albeit mingled with pity – in the other woman's voice? "I'm not your replacement. You said it yourself, Lucius doesn't love me."

"But he does lust after you. And you find him attractive."

Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, but what was the point? Narcissa already knew the truth. "Maybe, but I'm attracted to Severus. I love Severus. Lucius is just a friend. It's a marriage in name only to him."

Narcissa shook her head, her smile brittle. "I have no doubt you do love Severus. But I know Lucius, and I do not believe you can resist him forever. Besides, possessive of Lucius as I am, I do not want him to be alone for the rest of his life."

Hermione looked away, uncomfortable with Narcissa's cold, piercing stare. It reminded her rather too much of Bellatrix. A resemblance between the siblings, perhaps? They looked nothing alike, but there might be something in their mannerisms. What did she want, for Hermione to promise to leave Lucius alone? Or to do the opposite, to make sure he wouldn't be? Either way, it wasn't Narcissa's choice to make. The only way Hermione would ever let Lucius join her in bed was if Severus was there too, and hell would freeze over before that.

Far safer to change the subject. Hermione mentally rewound the conversation, hoping for something obvious for her to latch onto. Surely Narcissa wasn't bound to her here just to talk about Lucius?

Wait.

'Victims of what you call the plague can only converse with those dying of it.'

What you call the plague...

"Mrs Malfoy..."

"You might as well call me Narcissa. You are technically Mrs Malfoy as well."

"Narcissa, then... You said 'what I call the plague'. What did you mean?"

"Exactly what I said, girl. It is no plague. And that is the main reason I am doing all I can to keep you alive. The living must know what the dead know of the 'plague'."

A book was suddenly in Hermione's hands, without her even reaching for one. Narcissa slammed it shut just as it began to fall open before Hermione's transfixed stare, like a mouse watching a snake.

"As I was saying... You have no real reason to trust me. Despite my efforts to keep you alive. For all you know, I am controlling the books. I may have lied to the Dark Lord about your friend Potter being dead, but we both know I only did it for Draco. But if you want to live, you must trust what I say."

"I'm listening."

* * *

"Eat," Lucius snapped. He barged into the lab, balancing a tray of sandwiches with one hand while warily holding his wand at the ready with the other. This was his house-elves' job, but so far they'd failed to get Severus to eat anything left for him. Most likely he'd been so absorbed in his work that he hadn't even noticed the food.

Severus lifted his head from staring down his Omnioscope to scowl at Lucius. "Yes, mother." He snatched a sandwich from the tray and wolfed it down. Eyes bloodshot, unshaven and unkempt, his hair even more lank than usual, Severus looked rather like a denizen of Azkaban. If generally more healthy. He certainly ate with all of the manners of a starved convict.

"You'll make yourself sick, eating like that." Lucius gestured at the crumb covered but otherwise empty tray.

Severus shrugged and handed the tray back to Lucius. "Mildly nauseous, perhaps. It's not been that long since I last ate."

"You missed lunch and dinner. Keep it up and you'll miss breakfast."

"What does it matter?" Severus slammed his hands down on his table, making the Omnioscope jump. "Time is running out fast. Potions can keep me going until there is nothing I can do."

Lucius watched Severus closely, ready to duck. He knew Severus could be a little unstable when... angered, for lack of a better word. But he'd never seen him quite this unhinged before.

"I need more time," Severus croaked, his head bowed, face hidden behind a curtain of greasy hair. "O for a Time-Turner! But no, there are none left. All destroyed in that ludicrous 'battle' when Black died."

Lucius swallowed hard. 'Don't even think about it. He's a better Legilimens than I am an Occlumens. Change the subject.'

"You need to rest." Good. His voice sounded normal. Hopefully no guilt showed on his face either...

"I need to find a cure. I don't have time for sleep." Severus glanced at his watch. "Thirty-seven hours, Lucius. Then she dies."

Lucius shrugged helplessly. "I know. I didn't think you would rest, but it had to be said. What can you do for her if you're exhausted?"

"Weren't you listening? Potions. Wit-Sharpening and Pepper-Up will keep me going. I don't have any choice."

"Potions can only do so much."

"They will have to suffice. What would you have me do?"

"I..." Lucius looked away and ran a hand back through his hair. "You'll do all you can. I know. Her parents can do nothing but stay with her, and they refused to sleep as well. To be honest, I don't think any of us could even if we tried."

"What do you mean, refused to sleep? When I last came to take a blood sample, they were both snoring." Severus's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"They did refuse. I just happened to spike their tea with Dreamless Sleep."

Severus shook his head. "They may only be Muggles, but when they wake up and realise what you did – and they will – you'll have hell to pay."

"It's not as if they can hex me."

"No, but this is... what was it you called her? Harpy Helen?"

"Harridan," Lucius croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. Maybe an Obliviate would be in order, so that her parents didn't remember that offer of tea? "I'll..."

Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire. By the time Lucius blinked away the afterimage, the phoenix had gone again. In his place, Severus tore open a roll of parchment, a raw, desperate hope in his eyes. But the emotion died a quick death as he read, a black scowl taking its place. He crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the air, incinerating it before Lucius had a chance to grab it.

"What is it?"

Severus turned away, his face shadowed by his hair. "Baby Muggle-borns. The cure has failed with those born since Hermione fell ill again. Those already cured are fine for now."

"Merlin, no. I'm sorry. Surely... at least... doesn't it mean that the plague hasn't split into variants? That it's still mutating as one? That's some faint silver lining?"

"It might mean that if I can find a cure, it will work universally. But that's if, not when. I had hoped that message would be an idea from one of my colleagues to try. Something new that would work. Instead..."

"More bad news."

Severus nodded. He turned back to his Omnioscope, his mouth tightened into a bitter line. "It didn't even occur to me to ask about those Muggle-borns. And I don't care. Hermione is my only concern. I can't lose her."

"I know. I don't blame you." Lucius sighed, guilt a leaden weight in his stomach. 'She's my concern too, although so is Ginny if only for Draco's sake. I should care more about those Muggle-borns, though. I'm responsible for them, their liaison with the Ministry.'

"I'll leave you to it. Let me know if there's anything you need. Or call one of the elves, they'd be delighted to assist you."

* * *

Lucius rubbed at tired eyes. He straightened up in his chair, forcing his neck to support his head rather than lolling back against the headrest. Within a minute he slumped back down, struggling to keep his eyes open. Time for another Pepper-Up Potion. He fumbled in his pocket, struggled with the cork and tipped the potion into his mouth. Swallowing, he grimaced as an unpleasant wave of heat washed through his limbs and back through his torso to emerge as steam from his ears. At least the discomfort was worth feeling more human and less like an Inferius.

He glanced at the seats next to his, the Harridan and Will snoring softly. He'd have to Obliviate them again in the morning, or they wouldn't accept anything from him, not even comfort if things went as badly as he feared.

'Still no cure. Eleven hours to go.'

Perhaps he should have offered her parents the potions that kept Severus and himself going. They only wanted to spend as much time as possible with Hermione, to keep vigil. Just as he did.

But what good would it do? Hermione couldn't appreciate it. At least under Dreamless Sleep her parents were at peace. And it meant that he had some respite from witnessing their devastation as hope slipped away with each hour. Seeing them both shed silent tears in their despair was an excruciatingly painful reminder of his own as Narcissa died.

A muted crack from the opposite side of Hermione's bed heralded Severus's arrival. He looked no better than he had on any of the previous occasions he'd come to take an hourly blood sample. Progressively worse, if anything, as the shadows of his unshaven bristles deepened and his face became ever more haggard.

Lucius blinked as Severus swept back his greasy mane from his face, eyes intent on Hermione as he lifted her arm to press his wand to the crook of her elbow. The vial for the blood glinted in his other hand, mirroring a glimmer in Severus's eyes. Could that be hope?

'Don't ask. If he wants to share anything, he will. Don't be like Potter and pester the poor man.'

Severus pocketed the vial of blood and lowered Hermione's arm, caressing it with a lingering touch before he let go. Lucius looked away, uncomfortable. Ridiculous! He could happily watch an illicit memory of the pair making love, but witnessing a simple touch left him squirming in his seat?

Then again, that gentle caress reminded him of... Lucius winced, flinching away from the memory of the last time he'd touched Narcissa, her skin cold. Dead.

"They left?" Severus's voice drew Lucius back to the present.

"What?"

"Potter. Draco. Ginny." With each name, Severus looked pointedly at where they had been sitting, then back at Lucius.

"Ginny fell ill, too. I persuaded them that pestering you for progress would not help, and pointed out that she might be more comfortable in her own bed." He shook his head. "Not that she would know anything about it. I think my promise to get any cure to them personally did the trick."

"Thank you," Severus muttered. Potter's questions had clearly been every bit as distracting as Lucius thought.

His gaze returned to Hermione, that flicker of emotion showing again. "I had an idea. Something to test with this." Severus patted the pocket with the vial. "While I can think of no way to develop a cure independently, the plague is mutating so fast now that an isolated earlier sample might attack a current one."

"You're going to try to fight fire with fire? If it works, wouldn't it just infect Hermione with a new variant of the plague?"

"Not if the two versions of the plague cancel each other out."

"More like fire and ice, then."

Severus nodded. "It worked exactly as I hoped with the previous sample."

"Then give it to her!" Lucius looked away from Severus's glare. "Sorry. I know you must have your reasons."

"Indeed," Severus snapped. "I need to be sure it still works, and that if it does, that it is actually safe. I am well aware that she is fast running out of time, but I will not risk killing her myself."

"I'm sorry," Lucius repeated, dragging a weary hand down his face.

"Forget it," Severus said, absently stroking Hermione's cat, curled up at her feet. Pining. "Potions or no, we are both overtired." He turned to leave, almost spinning into Apparition before he twisted back. "Do not breathe a word of this idea of mine to her parents. Not even in their potion induced slumber. I do not want to raise false hope."

"I won't." Lucius spoke to thin air.

* * *

Severus returned in an hour.

"Did it..." Lucius trailed off at the sight of the blank look on Severus's face. He shook his head, his eyes equally blank, no emotion stirring in the dark depths.

Moving with none of his usual grace, Severus mechanically took another blood sample. "It failed." His voice was a dead monotone.

'Occlumency,' Lucius realised. Not his usual subtle variety, either, instead his mind so heavily shuttered that it was a wonder he could register anything.

"The plague reacts as if alive, almost sentient. It completely destroyed my attempted anti-plague."

"What will you do now?"

A flash of raw pain flickered across Severus's face. His Occlumency was only as strong as he was, and he had to be near breaking point. "I want to stay with her. But I cannot," he choked. A single tear slipped down his sallow cheek.

Of course. If there was any chance Severus could still do something, he'd never forgive himself if he gave up. He'd regret not staying with her, but he'd regret not doing all he could to save her even more. Even if there was nothing more he could do.

Severus must have Apparated. Either that or somehow vaulted across the bed without disturbing Hermione's cat, because after a single blink of Lucius's eyes, Severus was standing over him. Two claw-like hands grabbed Lucius by the front of his robes and hauled him up to his feet until he stood nose to nose with Severus.

"Stay with her. If by some miracle a cure is found in time, by all means go to your daughter-in-law with a dose, but otherwise stay with Hermione. Promise me."

"I promise," Lucius said, trying to gently tug his robes out of Severus's creasing grip without ripping them.

Severus abruptly let go. Lucius dropped back into his seat, almost tipping it over backwards. Then almost slid out of it, cringing away, when Severus slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair. No wonder his students had been terrified of him...

"And let me know if anything changes." Severus straightened up, staring unblinkingly at Lucius, reminding him of a bird of prey. A vulture, waiting for him to die of fear, then feast on him.

Lucius mentally shook himself. He was older than Severus, for Merlin's sake. He'd never been taught by him. Never been terrorised by him under threat of point loss and detention, so get a grip.

'You were a Death Eater. You know all these intimidating tricks, even if you considered some of them too uncouth to use.'

He straightened up in his seat. "Of course."

Severus nodded and stepped back. He looked again at Hermione, leaning over to grip her hand.

"Um, her breathing changed. Even under enspelled sleep." Lucius shuddered. Yet another reminder of Narcissa's last hours.

"I know." Severus brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "It's harsh and laboured, only still regular due to the spell. It happened the first time."

"Does it mean what I think it does? That she can still feel pain?"

"If so, she's not conscious of it."

"Then what..."

Severus glared over his shoulder at him. "Simple. Her lungs are starting to fail."

"But the spell!"

"It only delays the plague, it does not stop it. I know you must be trying not to remember it, but Narcissa went through the same."

"Then if you already knew, why did you want me to let you know of any changes?" Lucius snapped.

"I meant if she's obviously dying, I want to be there. I'll come anyway during the last hour of the countdown, but if she starts to fade sooner..."

"Oh," Lucius said softly. "Yes, of course."

With one last caress of Hermione's hand, Severus turned to leave again.

"I'm sorry," Lucius blurted. "I didn't mean to snap. I don't want to remember, but all of this does remind me of Narcissa. Losing her. And... I won't lose another wife."

Severus looked sharply at him.

Lucius held up his hands. "I know, I know. In name only. I still don't want to lose her. All I meant is that I know what you're going through. Even married for such a short time, I know you love her as I loved Narcissa."

"I do," Severus whispered, closing his eyes. The wall of Occlumency fell once more. He nodded dispassionately and Disapparated.

* * *

"Severus. It's not your fault. We know you did all you could."

At Will's hoarse voice, Lucius turned to his in-laws. Helen nodded vacantly, her bloodshot gaze fixed on Hermione. They cradled one of Hermione's hands between theirs.

Lucius looked nervously at where Severus perched on the other side of Hermione's bed, his head in his hands. Ever since Severus staggered into the room, Lucius had been keeping a watchful eye on him. Just in case he had to protect her parents if Severus snapped...

But Severus just raised his head, turned to look briefly at them, and looked down at Hermione. He reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I know," he finally muttered.

Keeping his hand on his wand – just in case – Lucius glanced at the clock on Hermione's bedside table. Half an hour left...

Movement from Severus brought his attention back. He almost raised his wand. False alarm. Severus was merely leaning over to kiss her.

Lucius looked away from the tender, gentle, one-sided kiss, to look at her sniffling, watching parents. They gasped.

Severus had jerked back, wafting something away from his mouth. His hand plunged into his robes, coming back with his wand. No, not his wand, a vial? And scooped a silver, wispy thread from the air.

A memory. From Hermione. How? A wand was needed to remove memories, a spell. How did Hermione do it, wandless and unconscious?

"What's that?" Helen croaked.

"What's going on?" Will asked.

Severus ignored the questions, launching himself onto his feet. Lucius followed suit, striding over to him.

"I can't risk leaving this for after..."

'After she dies.'

"It might be something important. I have no idea what Hermione can possibly know that would work where everything else has failed, but... I have to check."

"Where are you going?" Lucius grabbed hold of Severus as he started to twist in tell-tale pre-Apparition.

"Hogwarts," Severus said, baffled. He tried to shrug Lucius off. "Let go!"

Of course. The Headmaster's office almost certainly had a Pensieve. But by the time Severus got to Hogwarts... He'd have to Apparate outside the gates, then hope the wards would let him in as former faculty. Run to the castle, and hope again that he'd get into the Headmaster's office as a former Head himself.

No. It would take too long. If Hermione's memory somehow contained a vital clue, Severus needed to see it now.

"No time," he snapped, and Side-Along'ed them into his study. "I have one, remember?" More than one, of course, but only one on public display.

Severus nodded. And paused, poised to pour the memory into the gleaming Pensieve on the desk. "Where's the solution?"

"What?" Lucius stared at his Pensieve, horrified. A freshly polished, shining and completely empty marble bowl. It wouldn't work without the silver solution to display the memories. "Elf!"

A house-elf immediately appeared. "Master calls Moppy?"

"Did you clean this?" He pointed at the Pensieve with a shaking finger.

"Moppy did. Moppy is a good elf and keeps Master's shinies shiny."

"Why didn't you replace the solution? The shiny silver that should be here?"

"Moppy needs to ask Master's friend to brew more. Has Moppy been bad?"

Lucius bit back a furious 'yes!'. The elf hadn't actually done anything it hadn't been told to.

Severus cleared his throat impatiently. "It'll have to be Hogwarts, then."

"No," Lucius croaked. He crossed over to the wall and pressed against the panelling, revealing the entrance to his sanctuary to his eyes. A mental tweak of the wards revealed it to Severus as well.

"I have another Pensieve."

'One that I wish I hadn't put a Permanent Sticking Charm on. Please, please, please don't notice the shelf with your and Hermione's names on it...'

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, Septentrion and JunoMagic for betaing.