An alarm chimed, and Severus transferred his glare from the third-year potions essays Slughorn had been kind enough to leave behind for him to grade to the little clock. Time for the annual staff holiday party. Nearly all of the staff stayed on the grounds for a day or two after the students had left, catching up on grading and preparing for the next term and such, but tomorrow nearly half would be departing for their own homes or those of various relatives. Would anyone be truly offended if I didn’t appear? Somehow I doubt it. Unfortunately, the one time he’d attempted to skive off, Albus had felt that it had simply been due to a lack of holiday spirit and had taken it upon himself to rectify the problem. By redecorating his quarters in the colors of the season…and purple. The effect had been hideous, and with Albus’ knowledge of charms it had taken Severus over a week and Filius’ help in one case to get the decorations down.

With a growl, he collected the frames he’d purchased for Devon and made his way to the staff room. Perhaps if I’m still alive next year I’ll develop some sort of horrendously debilitating illness…. A debilitating and contagious illness. With spots.

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Pomona greeted as he entered, ignoring his less-than-eloquent grunt in return.

“Well, now, I believe everyone is here,” Albus said with a smile. “So let the evening commence.”

Food—and alcohol—came first, and he picked away at the platters the house elves had delivered. No need to waste good food, after all, and it gave him a chance to drop his gift on the appropriate table. The idea was for the gifters to be anonymous, although it was never difficult to determine who’d sent what to whom.

“Severus, if I could have a moment?”

Bloody hell. He’d been avoiding Poppy since she’d released him after the duel, but she was wearing a decidedly determined expression and unfortunately since he couldn’t precisely claim a prior engagement just now he had no choice but to accede. “But of course.”

She waved him out into the hall—she was a professional, after all, and wouldn’t reveal a patient’s private information to others without his consent which was probably why she hadn’t accosted him while he and Alastor were both in the infirmary—before inquiring whether the duel had been the first flashback that he’d experienced. She looked suspicious at his confirmation, though he’d likely have said the same thing even if he’d been having them twice daily so he couldn’t precisely be offended.

“You may not be aware of this, but many witches and wizards who survived Grindelwald and the first war with You-Know-Who suffered through the same sort of thing. There are several on the staff at St. Mungo’s who would be more than willing to speak with you.”

“That’s not necessary.” Nor in any way, shape, or form, desired.

“Severus, this type of thing doesn’t generally ‘go away’ on its own. Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

“No.” A nightmare here and there, but he’d been having them for very nearly his entire life so he wasn’t about to start complaining now. And if they’d been a bit more frequently than usual in the past few months…well, that was only to be expected.

“What about poor concentration? Blackouts? Difficulty concentrating? I’d ask about irritability, but I’m afraid that that could hardly be classed as a symptom in your case.”

“None of the above. I’m fine, really. It was simply an isolated event.”

“It would be better if you spoke to someone,” she pressed. “I assure you that any mindhealer from St. Mungo’s would be appropriately discrete.”

“Poppy—”

“A flashback or blackout at the wrong time could be exceedingly dangerous, do you realize that? Not only to you but to everyone around you. You’re very lucky that it was Moody that you were facing across that dueling platform—if it had been one of the rest of the staff, either or both of you could have ended up permanently crippled. Or dead.”

He was tempted to point out that he was already permanently crippled, thank you very much, but it didn’t seem to be the time. “I think that you may be underestimating the seriousness of this. There are very few situations in which I’ll find someone casting those curses at me, after all.” Although it would put him at a very serious disadvantage in a true duel…but he could worry about that later. On his own. There must be a potion that can help counteract that kind of episode. Something similar to a calming draught, perhaps? He’d have to do some research. If it really was as common as she had indicated, he’d be certain to find something.

“But what if it isn’t just the spells that will set it off? You’ve spent most of your time since you were injured in your rooms—what if a flash of a particular color is enough? Or a sound, or a smell…if you’re going to be teaching, spending the majority of your day among students, I really must insist.”

Severus’ fingers twitched. If she was stating something like that flat out, it meant that she considered this a matter of safety to the school and those living within its walls and would take the matter directly to Albus if he fought. She might not be able to reveal the exact details, but since the headmaster had no doubt already heard about what had happened he wouldn’t have any trouble interpreting whatever hints she chose to give. And he’ll force the bloody issue, damn him. “I suppose I have no choice, then. I’m certain that you can make…appropriate…arrangements.”

Before she could respond, he shoved the door to the staff room open and stalked back in. The door catching Sybil in the back and nearly knocking her into the punchbowl didn’t even manage to improve his temper.

“Severus?” Albus asked, distracted from his conversation with Alastor by Sybil’s yelp. “Is anything wrong?”

“Wrong? What couldpossibly be wrong?”

“Well, perhaps it’s time for the gift exchange. Minerva, if you would?”

Poppy slipped back into the room as well, in time to collect a badly-wrapped box from the Deputy Headmistress. It was always easy to pick out Hagrid’s presents, and Severus hoped for a moment that he’d decided to give her something snarling and poisonous. Unfortunately it turned out to be nothing but a pair of dragon-hide gloves and a furred scarf. More's the pity.

His own gift came next, and his suspicion that Minerva had figured out who’d given her the cat toys last year was confirmed by her smirk when he unwrapped the package and found two elementary level transfiguration texts within. Although the third book, Transfigured Potions Ingredients and the Side Effects Therein, tucked at the bottom of the stack, might have vaguely interested him if he’d been willing to let anything distract him from his current mood.

The rest of the gift-giving went on as usual…trinkets and such, for the most part. Devon did seem pleased with the frames, to the point of hauling several pictures out of his robes and fitting them in then and there. Of course, the highlight of the entire evening was Alastor opening his gift—with his wand and from a distance of nearly two meters after casting several hex- and curse-detection spells on it which Severus supposed was what you got for giving a paranoid lunatic a wrapped present even if he could see through the paper—and finding an elaborate memory plaque. Already neatly etched with his name, accomplishments, and the year of his birth. And, at the bottom in the place that was meant for a death date, that of the upcoming year.

The wrapping paper had been covered in shiny crystal balls and tarot cards, so even those staff members who, like himself, claimed no particular talents at Divination were all able to determine the sender. “My Inner Eye has seen your death in the days to come,” Sybil elaborated when she finally realized that everyone was staring at her. “You may fight it, but the fates will not be denied in such things. So terribly tragic.” She heaved a sigh and then went back to picking through the box of chocolates that she’d received.

“You’re going to keep it?” Severus had to ask when the ex-Auror had hefted it with a shake of his head. He’d more than half expected the man to hex her on the spot just on general principle. He would have.

“Suppose I might get some use out of it. If nothing else, it’s heavy enough to make a fair bludgeon.”

///////////

Severus drummed lightly on the arm of his chair, regarding the snowy owl perched on the back of the couch. The students had left on the train while he was still confined to the infirmary so he hadn’t had a chance to deliver the ominoculars to Harry and Draco. At the time he’d simply assumed that he could present them after the holidays and hadn’t thought a great deal more about it. After all, the son of a Deatheater receiving gifts from a known traitor would not go over well with either his parents or the Dark Lord, and revealing to the Wesleys that he, Severus Snape, was sending presents to Harry-bloody-Potter…. He glared suddenly at the bird, who gave an indignant hoot and clacked her beak in his direction. Except that that Gryffindor brat had had the audacity to send his owl back to Hogwarts with a clumsily wrapped parcel addressed to him and a note wishing him Happy Christmas tomorrow. If Harry had just waited to give it to him until he returned then Severus could have done the same in good conscience; now he’d either have to either send the ominoculars back with Hedwig or come up with a reason that he’d waited to give the boy his present until a week after the holiday. He hadn’t yet managed to come up with anything that didn’t sound completely pathetic and he’d been at it for nearly an hour.

After a few moments more he summoned one of the ominoculars with a sharp gesture. Harry had sent his owl out with a gift; no doubt the Weasleys already knew who it was intended for. Sending back his own gift in return wouldn’t make a great deal of difference at this point. Although we’re going to have that discussion on discretion sooner rather than later. Now where did I put that gift wrap?

He’d already had second thoughts after sending the owl off with the gift—and third and fourth, for that matter, Merlin knew the Weasley boy wasn’t one to keep his mouth shut—when a heavy banging interrupted his thoughts. Hagrid or Alastor?

“Open the door, boy.”

Alastor. He waved the panel open. The man hadn’t sought any sort of retribution for the duel—hadn’t even mentioned it again while they were trapped in the infirmary—but Severus wasn’t particularly interested in getting on his bad side just now. Well, any more on his bad side than he already was just for being what he was. “What do you want?”

“There’s been an attack at the Ministry. Albus wants us both at St. Mungo’s, and I didn’t want to chance the floo.”

Fair enough…as far as they knew the Ministry had pulled back from Hogwarts completely after the little spectacle with Umbridge, but there was no guarantee that there weren’t still a few monitors around. Severus summoned his cloak and followed the older wizard out the door. Albus wouldn’t have called for them if it wasn’t important. “Any details?”

“No.”

They apparated as soon as they crossed the boundary of the wards, met by Kingsley Shacklebolt at the front desk. “Weasley—Arthur—was attacked. Snakebite, it looks like, and a big one,” he explained with no preamble.

Probably Nagini, Severus had no trouble interpreting. “When?”

“Sometime earlier today. He was supposed to come home early—Molly floo’d his office when he was late for dinner—and Perkins went looking since Arthur had left nearly half an hour before. Found him outside the Department of Mysteries more than three-quarters dead from blood loss.” They’d been walking as he spoke, and by the time he’d finished they’d arrived at the door entrance to the Serious Bites ward. Harry and the four youngest Weasleys were already there, as was Tonks.

“Professor?” Harry asked.

The door opened and Albus stepped out before he could respond…Severus caught a flash of red sitting beside the bed at the end of the ward and realized that Molly was already inside.

“What’s the situation?” Alastor demanded.

“Hm.” He indicated another door off to one side. “Let’s step in here for a moment.”

“No!” one of the twins interrupted suddenly.

“He’s our Dad; we have a right to know what’s happening!” the other agreed.

“Your brother will be out to speak to you in a moment,” Albus told them, and Severus assumed that the either the oldest boy or the younger one who was now working at the Ministry must be in with his mother. There was a third older brother as well, but he’d left after OWLs and was now off in Tasmania or somewhere like that and wasn’t likely to have gotten back to England so quickly. “Right now I need to speak with these three,” Albus continued with a wave in the direction of the newest arrivals.

None of the teenagers looked particularly thrilled with that announcement, but the door opened again to allow the oldest Weasley boy into the hallway and their attention abruptly shifted. Severus followed Albus into the unoccupied room.

“What happened?” Alastor repeated.

“Arthur hasn’t regained consciousness, but from what I can determine he was checking our wards on the door to the Department of Mysteries when he was attacked. The snake disappeared, but I think we can all make a better than fair guess as to its identity.”

‘Their’ wards were the ones the Order had put over the Ministry’s on the entrance to the department…nothing particularly intrusive or invasive since those would be all too easily noticed, but they would let them track who entered and exited.

“He lost a lot of blood before he was found,” Albus was continuing. “They’re giving him as much bloody-replenishing potion as they possibly can—from the look on the primary healer’s face more than is technically permitted, or for that matter, healthy—but unfortunately the poison in her fangs seems to be having an unusual effect. His wounds aren’t closing. The healers are trying charmed bandages to keep them sealed, but it’s not a perfect solution. Severus, do you have any idea…?”

Severus considered for a moment, but nothing sprung immediately to mind. He knew the Dark Lord had made some magical modifications to his pet’s poison glands, but that had been over a dozen years ago—right before his first defeat—and Severus had had other things to worry about at the time. “I can think of a number of things that slow or prevent the clotting of blood, but offhand….” He shook his head. “The Dark Lord isn’t precisely one to share his secrets. I’m not even sure where I would begin.”

“And if I get you a sample of his blood?”

“I’ll do what I can, but St. Mungo’s has half a dozen potions masters on the staff who are at least as competent.” Although they wouldn’t likely have his knowledge of the Dark Arts to draw upon. He shook his head more sharply. “Get me a sample.”

“Done.” Albus withdrew a vial from his robes and pressed it into his hand.

Severus glared. He hated being predictable.

Albus ignored the glare and nodded to the other two men. “Alastor, Kingsley, I want to set up a rotating schedule of guards on the ward, just to be safe. Tonks and Emmeline have both agreed—as well as Molly and Bill, obviously, but as I’m sure you’re aware their judgment may be…clouded…while Arthur remains in critical condition—and I was hoping that the two of you would be willing to assist.”

“Of course,” Kingsley agreed as Alastor grunted his assent.

“Excellent. I was thinking either four or six hour shifts….”

“Wait, lad,” Alastor ordered as Severus turned for the door.

Severus’ glare deepened now that it had a real target. Bad enough when Albus ordered him about—at least he was actually his superior—but paranoid ex-Aurors were a whole separate issue.

“Unless you’d like the Deatheaters watching this place and probably Hogwarts as well to catch you alone?” Alastor snapped. “You know that they’d have found out that that snake attacked Weasley by now.”

And, if last Friday had been any indication, he was in a somewhat dangerous state to be relying solely on his own defenses. Though I suppose if my only need was to kill someone with no worry for bystanders I’m probably no worse off than I ever was. In fact, with the idea that the Dark Lord was directly in front of him, he might actually be more dangerous.

“I believe Mr. Potter wanted to speak to you anyway,” Albus added.

“Joy.” He stepped out into the hall, but Harry had an arm over the youngest Weasley boy’s shoulders and didn’t spare Severus much more than a glance. Bill had disappeared, but Molly was sitting with her children now with her daughter pressed against her…the door was shut, but Severus suspected that Tonks had taken her place keeping an eye on Arthur. “News?” Preferably good news? None of them were sobbing which made him cautiously optimistic.

“Nothing yet,” Molly answered after a moment. “The healers keep assuring us that they’ve seen far worse bites, but…well, the bleeding still hasn’t stopped.”

And there were limits to the amount of blood replenishing potion that could be administered before it stopped having an effect, Severus knew. “I’m sure it will be…fine.” Comfort still wasn’t precisely something that he was adept at supplying.

“Can you help him?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But you helped the man in Brazil!”

Severus found that he didn’t have the heart to point out that those circumstances had been entirely different. There, as unpleasant as it had been, he’d had people able to describe the progress of the poison in previous patients, ample amounts of pure poison to work with instead of contaminated blood that might or might not contain more than trace elements of it…and that had been a natural poison, or as natural as you could possibly get when it came to creatures that had been twisted by magic at some point in the distant past. Whatever the Dark Lord had done to Nagini’s poison, he very much doubted that ‘natural’ was in any way the appropriate word to describe it. He shook his head. “I will do what I can, of course, but Mr. Weasley has not only myself but all the resources of St. Mungo’s working for him. I don’t think you need to be too concerned at this point.”

“Professor Snape is perfectly right,” Molly cut in firmly, lifting her chin. “In fact, I think it’s time that you all get back to the Burrow and get some rest. It’s getting late.”

“But Mum—” the youngest boy began.

“You heard me, Ronald. I’ll come back after I drop you off and stay here until your father wakes up, but there’s no sense in all of us sitting around in these chairs all night.”

“But—”

“You may come back to visit tomorrow morning,” she interrupted her daughter firmly. “Come along.”

Severus was still debating whether or not to follow them out when Albus, Alastor, and Shacklebolt rejoined him in the corridor.

“Where are the Weasleys?” Albus asked.

“Molly was going to take the children home and then come back and stay with Arthur. I’m not certain where Bill went.”

“I believe he mentioned needing to pick up a few things from work, but taking the other children home was probably a wise decision on Molly’s part. I’ll wait here until she returns…I’d like to speak with her a bit more. In fact, perhaps I’ll stay here with her tonight and Tonks can stay with Harry and the Weasley children, just to be safe.”

“Leave Tonks here; I’ll go wait with them,” Shacklebolt offered. “I probably won’t need to stay for long…I doubt Bill will be spending the night here either if Molly has any say in it.”

Severus hadn’t seen a great deal of Bill Weasley since he’d left Hogwarts, even at the Order meetings, but what little he had seen had indicated that the oldest boy might actually be able to hold his own against his mother’s will if he so chose. It would be an interesting sight to see. Still, there were more important things to worry about just now. Shacklebolt walked out with Alastor and Severus, apparating himself presumably to the Weasleys’ home, while the other two wizards went back to Hogwarts and began the trek across the grounds.

“You actually think you can do anything with that blood?” Alastor asked.

Severus shrugged, already trying to decide the best way to start working. Obviously he needed to separate the blood from the poison—otherwise it would contaminate anything he tried to do—but trying to do that kind of separation without even knowing what ingredients were in the poison…. Well, I can look up the precise properties of blood, and I suppose process of elimination will have to do the rest. “I won’t know until I try. I’m not even sure if there’s enough, or for that matter even any, of the poison mixed in with his blood to work with. Albus knows that I’d need it, but if the amount Arthur lost before he was found was enough to cleanse the wound….”

“Would’ve closed then, I’d think.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” He wasn’t any kind of healer by any stretch of the imagination, but it stood to reason that if the poison was still having an effect there would have to be at least traces of it remaining. “Did Albus have any idea where Nagini might have gone after the attack?”

“Nothing beyond that it disappeared. You have any ideas?”

“No, I was just thinking that this would be much easier if I had an uncontaminated sample to work with.” Though he had absolutely no desire to be the one to go snake-hunting. Besides which, the Dark Lord no doubt knew by now that she’d attacked Arthur Weasley, and he’d probably already taken her away to one of his safe houses. Damn him, what kind of lunatic sends a snake to attack someone anyway? Send your wizard minions like a proper dark lord.