It started out like any day, I suppose. I strode out of the dungeons, my feet travelling to the Great Hall but my mind elsewhere; that was how it always was. That day my mind was on what questions to ask on the first big exam of the new year (for my N.E.W.T students, of course). However absorbed I was, I could not shake the fatigue that I felt. It had been growing for some time, really, but at the time I had thought that the ache in my bones had little to do with anything but the fact that I had two teenage boys under my care. While technically during the school year they resided in their house common room and dormitories, they did tend to get themselves into trouble, and therefore had me running after them at least fifty percent of the time. It was tiring, though Molly Weasley had informed me over the summer that it was rewarding in the end. Right then of course, all ever saw was another detention, another lecture and another shake of my head at the very nearly insurmountable damage the two hellions had caused in their mischief. How does one even get a cow up the marble staircase (ignoring the fundamental question of where the hell did they get it from anyway) without being seen by a student or teacher? They probably wouldn't have been caught either if it weren't for the fact that McGonagall transfigured the cow to a cat, and upon shifting into her feline animagus form asked her to describe the people that led her there. McGonagall impressed me from time to time with her brilliance. Anyway, stunts like those were precisely what I thought had led to this ever growing fatigue. I was wrong, but it would take me a very long time to realize just how wrong I was.

      All things aside, that day I went about my usual business, still in my happy bubble of set beliefs. It was a Saturday, and I was fairly content for that fact. The only thing I was not happy about, however, was that I actually had something to do after breakfast. But it was Saturday after all, and my days of bliss free weekends (we'll ignore those days in the past when the Dark Lord called me) were over due to two reasons. The first of course, was essentially my own doing, and that reason was Harry and Draco. Hellions, but nonetheless I had to admit they were my hellions. The second reason had an unfortunate reputation in my books of being just as hellish, though I much preferred to think that it was not by my own doing that I had been thrown into them, but the Dark Lord's. Minerva was teaching me (or trying to at least) how to become an animagus, as it had been discovered over the summer that I had been spying on the Dark Lord by Dumbledore's orders. Therefore of course, my Saturday morning meetings with Minerva were necessary to keep me from perishing in a most certainly humiliating way. Not that I particularly enjoyed them.

          ***

     "You have to concentrate Severus," said Minerva as she paced back and forth and I stood around making funny faces and crossing my fingers.

    "I am but as I don't know what I'm concentrating on ..." I said grouchily.

    "You won't know until you achieve it once," she said patiently, ignoring the fact that I was now muttering profanities under my breath. "Imagine yourself dissolving into nothing, and then reforming into something new."

     "My imagination is as dead as my father," I growled, having grown quite weary with practice. "And trust me, Minerva, he is very dead."

      Minerva pretended to ignore my lack of grief or remorse over the mention of such a thing, and the sheer crassness I possessed to use such an analogy.

    "I know you have an imagination somewhere in there, even if deep, deep down," she said, a smile playing at her lips. "Or do I need to get you a red cape to help you get in touch with it?"

    I told her to do something that was not nice in the least that I would probably wash Harry or Draco's mouths out for if they were to say the same ("Severus!" she said, shocked). I swear that has to be the fiftieth time she has brought that up. I had been trying to forget the fact that I had been de-aged for a little while over the summer, therefore giving Minerva plenty of ammunition to irritate me. Unfortunately (and here's a surprise) she wasn't going to let me forget it.

    "Alright then," she said. "I suppose I went too far that time, but you were so funny as a child."

    I believe I mumbled incoherently with rage at this point.

    "Alright, alright, try again then. Just once more, and then you can go. You're so close, I can feel it ..."

   I took a deep breath and tried to imagine just what she had told me earlier, and surprisingly I could see myself in my mind's eye, turning to dust and then reforming. I felt a slight shiver run down my spine.

    "Did it work?" I asked once I had opened my eyes. I knew of course that it had not as soon as I opened my eyes and heard my voice.

   "No Severus," sighed Minerva, stating what did not need to be said. "But you were close. We'll try again next week then, I suppose. It takes time, you know. You'll get there."

   I nodded, and swept out of the empty classroom. I set off down the hallway at a blistering pace, frustrated after another session. The truth was that I couldn't stand being cooped up like this. Since the Dark Lord found out the truth I had not been able to go out in public, not even for a visit to Hogsmeade unless there were a large number of aurors on my tail, that is, and it was difficult to find so many. I finally understood how Black felt, being a hunted man. Once I succeeded in becoming an animagus, I believed that maybe I wouldn't feel so hunted because I would be able to leave the castle grounds sometimes. I didn't let myself dwell on what I would do if my animagus form was something that would not work so well for disguise. A whale, for instance. I slowed slightly, my chest suddenly feeling tight. I still felt a little shivery, like I had when I was practicing. Now that I thought of it, I had felt that shiver at other times too. I kept walking, even though I was starting to feel a little dizzy. I told myself I would be fine, that I was closer to my quarters than I really was. I had actually only gone one corridor, but I lied to myself that I had gone further than that in order to believe I could keep going. I heard quick footsteps behind me. They sounded distant, and yet they were quite near.

    "Severus, I forgot to give you this." Minerva's voice said. It echoed strangely and I turned around to see her coming towards me with a heavy book under her arm. Even though I knew she was really getting closer, she seemed to be getting further away as the light in the corridor dimmed. Or was that just my eyes? In groggy surprise I felt my knees buckle, and saw her face for a second before I collapsed on the floor, blackness becoming reality.

       ***

    A fuzzy image drifted above me; my eyes blurred and barely opened. I felt a gentle hand on my forehead, and saw a braid of dark brown hair, and honey brown eyes.

     "- say he just collapsed?" asked the strange voice, soft and gentle. The hand was taken off my forehead, and I saw a wand waved.

    "Yes, I've never known Severus to just ... faint like that," said a familiar voice. Minerva, yes, it was Minerva's voice.

    "Oh, look, I do believe he's coming around," said the first voice, sounding pleased.

    I blinked, having trouble focusing my eyes. The brown hair and eyes belonged to a woman that at first I thought I had never seen before, though I couldn't be sure as she looked vaguely familiar. She was wearing the same type of uniform Madam Pomfrey wore, though Poppy was nowhere in sight. I must be in the hospital wing, I thought to myself rather dazedly.

   "Sorry, what ... happened?" I asked, everything I had heard having seemed to have flown from my mind. Though as brown eyes stared down at me I didn't think my lapse of memory had much to do with why I was here in the first place.

    "You fainted," Minerva said, walking over and standing next to the woman.

    "Oh, no, couldn't possibly have," I denied weakly as they both stared down at me.

    "Whatever you say then," said the woman, her eyes laughing.

    "Have you met Laura, Severus?" Minerva said.

   "Oh, what?" I said, slightly far away.

    "Laura, have you met Laura."

    "Er, Hello," I muttered up to her, still too weak to really move much. "Hell of the way to meet, I suppose?"

     "Yes, I should say so," she said with a laugh that made me want to join in. "Here, drink this."

    I eyed the goblet she gave me before gulping it down, recognizing it immediately as Pepper-Up potion.

    "Much better," I said with a slight cough, smoke now pouring out of my ears as I wiggled my fingers and toes, wondering in the back of my mind what had caused my collapse. I pushed that thought away for the moment. "So, what brings you here then, Laura?"

    "I'm here as an assistant to Poppy," she said. "She's doing a study right now and is going to need someone to fill in for her a few days a week for the duration of the school year. I only started the other day."

    "I recommended her, actually," Minerva added.

     "Minerva's my aunt, in case you didn't know," Laura told me.

    "Hang on ..." I said, sitting up and rubbing my neck. "Was this the niece you were talking about over the summer?"

   "The one that had the baby?" Minerva said. I nodded. "No, that was Sarah."

    "She's my youngest sibling and much more ahead in the family department," laughed Laura. "There are four of us, I'm eldest. Anyway, I need to go finish filing away a few things. I'll be back in a while to check on you, and then I'll let you leave. I've done a few simple charms and I can't detect anything other than exhaustion, but if you experience any similar or new symptoms come see me or Poppy."

    "I will," I replied "Thank you."

    "You're welcome," said Laura with a smile. "Nice meeting you by the way."

      What's her surname?" I asked once she was gone. "I think I recognize her."

    "Baldwin," Minerva replied.

   "Ah yes, she was a few years below me," I said, and now I remembered seeing her sorting, though I wasn't entirely sure what year. Some boys had been pulling her pigtails while they were waiting to be called up.

    "Now, tell me Severus," Minerva said sternly, "why are you fainting all of a sudden?"

    "I don't know," I said quickly, taken aback by her fierce expression. "Well ... I have been chasing Draco and Harry around since term began, and that lesson was probably the last straw."

     "Those two certainly are a handful," she muttered. "Perhaps you are right."

    "Dad!" said a very worried voice as the hospital wing doors flung open. Speaking of those two ...

    "Hello Harry, no, I am not dying, I have not been cursed, I have not gone back to spy on the Dark Lord and I most certainly am not going anywhere," I said in one breath. Harry had a tendency to worry. It was in his nature due to the fact that people who cared for him had a nasty habit of disappearing.

          "See," said Draco as they reached the bed. "I told you he was fine." He turned to look at Minerva and I before continuing. "We ran into Professor Flitwick and he told us what happened. How did you end up in here anyway?"

      "I ate one of Albus' lemon drops and it was so sugary that I nearly melted," I drawled, thinking quickly. The boys looked at Minerva expectantly.

     "He fainted, actually," she supplied.

    "Why?" Harry asked curiously.

     "I don't know," I said, rolling my eyes. "Probably from chasing after you two every other day."

     "Well, you don't need to try so hard to catch us, you know," said Draco slyly.

    "Now that is a Slytherin comment if I have ever heard one," I said. "Why don't you try to do fewer things that require me to catch you in the act?"

     "If I had known that dragging a cow up the marble staircase would cause you to fall ill," Draco said tremulously, pretending to wipe his eyes, "I would have done all I could to spare you."

    "Including not drag a cow up a staircase?" I said dryly.

    "Maybe ... even .... that," he said dramatically hand upon his heart as he looked skyward.

    "Draco, you know what Albus has to say about drama productions," I said lightly.

    "Hey, it's not my fault Professor Kettleburn set the stage on fire, I wasn't even born when that happened," Draco said. "Besides, it's fun to be dramatic sometimes." He drew himself up and bowed to an invisible audience. The longer that boy had been away from the Malfoy influence the weirder he got. He did baffle me sometimes.

    "Wait, what happened? What stage?" Harry asked, confused.

    "Next time you see Albus, Harry, ask him what he thinks about the stage adaptation of The Fountain of Fair Fortune," Minerva said with a smile. "It's quite the story, and is the reason why Hogwarts does not have a drama program."

       "Well, Severus," said Laura as she walked over, still shuffling papers, "I think you have been here long enough. How do you feel?"

      "Much better," I replied as Draco and Harry stared at the newcomer.

     She gave her wand a wave, and then nodded. "In that case, I suppose you may leave, as long as you promise to take it easy for the rest of the day." She pulled from her pocket a chocolate frog and gave it to me. "I would suggest you eat that, it will give you a bit more energy."

     I nodded, secretly looking forward to the chocolate frog. They were one of the few sweets I enjoyed, probably because every Christmas my mother would put a precious little frog in my stocking. It was the only time as a child that I got candy because we could very seldom afford it. Naturally I had grown fond of them. 

    As Harry, Draco, and I were walking down to the dungeons they were full of questions about the new matron. I answered as many as I could. I was just glad that they were thinking of something besides my fainting spell, because quite simply it worried me. I was never one to faint, and had been much more tired in the past than I was today. I hoped it wouldn't happen again soon, and I hoped that it was not the sign of something worse.  

  The arrival of the new matron had the school buzzing far longer than usual for a staff announcement. Dumbledore had announced Laura at dinner the day I met her, and she was supposed to be in the hospital wing on and off for the rest of the year, up to three days a week from what I gathered. I should have been more specific actually in saying that ‘the school' was buzzing, as what I really meant was the school's male population. Half the boys were missing their mouths with their forks at the meals she was present for. While it irked me to see so many moon eyes staring up at the staff table, I had to admit the boys were not wrong in finding Laura good looking. While Laura - according to Minerva - was thirty-two she did not look it. She certainly had a fair few boys swooning over her honey coloured eyes and freckled nose. I felt a little sorry for her though, for it seemed as though all of the boys had found out her schedule within a week, and she was having a fair few of them coming to her complaining of obscure symptoms. I did find it a little funny though, and couldn't help but smirk at it.

      Rather than drooling like an idiot, over the next few days Harry appeared to be deep in thought. I had been told earlier that Dumbledore wasn't letting Harry tell anyone but those who would be willing to help him accomplish whatever Dumbledore was instructing him to do during his private lessons, which had begun not too long ago. I didn't know what they were about, but I wished he could tell me, for whatever he had been told today obviously was troubling him or at least making him think quite deeply. There were very few things that Dumbledore permitted him to tell me, but often after a lesson Harry would come and sit in my office while I marked papers and mull things over. We would stay silent, but that was alright, for those days we didn't have a lot to say but enjoyed each other's company anyway. It was almost too overwhelming to sit alone with what lay ahead, for the days were getting darker.

      Albus had told Harry of the prophecy at the beginning of term, though he had left out the part of who informed the Dark Lord. It had been a bad night for the both of us, myself mostly because I knew eventually I would have to tell Harry it was I that informed the Dark Lord. In addition to this, while I had overheard only part of the prophecy, Albus finally informed me of the rest as well. Neither can live while the other survives. It was dangerous to tell me it seeing as I had a very high price on my head in the eyes of the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore thought that I needed to know. I sensed there was something else I was not being told, that Albus must in the end tell me. But he had not yet confided, and I felt that when he did something would change drastically, though what or how I knew not. There was one thing that I did know, and that was that there was a very great chance that I would be informed by the end of the year, for Albus was dying. The fool had put that cursed ring on, and now we were all going to pay the price. It hurt me more deeply than I could admit to myself, knowing that he was going to leave me soon. We were closer nowadays. I figured it had something to do with how near I had come to death over the summer, and maybe a little bit because he had to leave so soon. But there was no speculation as to the question of Albus dying. He was in the process already. Harry did not know. Draco did not know. I was the sole person in which Albus had confided his secret. It would have been far too much for him to bear, and even as I walked down the corridors each day I almost felt that it was even too great for the both of us. Even if he wanted to, Albus could not say more for the fear of the school being attacked. What should happen if the Dark Lord learned of his compromised position? It would be very grim, that was for certain.

       Sometimes I had nightmares of the school under siege. Children stirring at the foot of shattered staircases while fires raged in the towers, and wooden beams fell upon the fighters below; such bleakness I hoped to never see. But one does not often get what they hope, and I could not pretend that Albus dying would not change the Dark Lord's unwillingness to attack the school. I think even at that point I knew that it was inevitable, what must come. Every time I dreamed such things I awoke in a cold sweat, muttering under my breath a sort of wish, or prayer even, for us to have a warning before any sort of attack.

     These were the things that filled the back of my mind as the world got more complicated, as the cracks spread out before us on the battlefield. Make one wrong move and it all falls to pieces. It was in the back of the minds of everyone, for with a war looming, how could it not be? Though oftentimes it seemed like there was nothing but blackness, things were not always dark those days. There was light too; lots of it even. I had Harry, and Draco. Hermione as well, for she too was on good terms with me, along with the Weasleys now that they had gotten used to me. It also helped that I was no longer a Death Eater, because I did not have to impress any of the families who were sympathetic to the Dark Lord in class. I could be fair for the first time in my teaching career, and however much I had had thought I enjoyed being biased, I now knew that it had in fact often pained me to do so.

      Many of my Slytherins had grown cold towards me because of the change, however, not that I minded it so. Their parents had no doubt informed them of what had happened, and knew just what a traitor I was. Like I said, this did not bother me in the least, but I worried for Draco. Everyone knew now that he, unlike his parents, was not for the Dark Lord. How can one be when your parents were murdered before you by the very same beast of a man? Draco may not have got along with Lucius and Narcissa, and they may have neglected him, but sometimes I could tell that that moment changed him. Some things make the soul older, and that night was one of them. With all of the things Draco had to see already, the way the Slytherins were now treating him left a bitter taste in my mouth and an ache in my heart. Draco was now shunned by them all. Not even those who were not for the Dark Lord accepted him anymore, as the ones who were in His favour turned even the children of families who remained neutral or on our side. Things had started out small in September, but by now, the beginning of November, things had escalated.

      I wished so much to expel the ones causing him  trouble, but the worst part was that it wasn't just one, or two, or even three of them. It was damn near the whole house. How do you justify to the Headmaster that you expelled that many students? No, I had to hand out a hell of a lot of detentions, but what do you do when those don't help? They didn't care how many times they were punished, they didn't care what for. All they wanted was to make Draco pay for being disloyal to the Dark Lord. But they were mostly giving him trouble because of me. I had reason to believe that some parents were telling their children to give him hell to get to me, as many had gone out of their way to disrespect me in class and in hallways, with comments they surely could not have come up with on their own. I was the real problem, the real reason Draco's classmates had turned on him, and this fact made me sick.

      So with all of these thoughts in my head, I had no difficulty understanding why Draco came barrelling into my office without knocking, and panting up against the closed door asked if he could stay for just a minute or two.

     Nobody who heard those thundering footsteps go past my door would be unable to understand why I said yes. I was out the door and handing out detentions before Draco could protest. I told today's offenders their detentions were for running in the hallways, but I think they had it figured that I knew just what they were doing. I wasn't quite sure if they knew Draco was in my office, and so I thought it better not to reveal this fact, which was why I gave them detention for other reasons.

    Once inside I found Draco with his back up against the wall, breathing heavily. I conjured a chair and he took the hint to sit down immediately. I sat down and resumed marking tests. One look from him and I knew he was thankful for what I did.

     "What were they trying to do this time?" I asked softly, as though I were talking to a frightened animal.

      "The usual."

     It is a sad thing when all someone has to say is those two words, and you understand precisely what they mean. And I do not mean someone's preferred choice of drink, either.

     "Are you hurt?" I asked, as I knew that the students who most often were after Draco liked to jump out from places and try to give him a good punch or two before he could get running. He was quite fast, after all. The problem was that Draco often wasn't given enough time to draw his wand or even think of a spell. He was lucky if the person chasing him wasn't fast, but there were plenty of those who were that had jumped on the bandwagon.

     "My eye," he muttered. Sure enough it was colouring nicely.

     I pulled a little tin of bruise balm out of my desk and handed it to him. Just another day, just another bruise.

      "It's tiring, isn't it? Wondering when someone's going to find you next," I told him as he began to gingerly dab the paste on his eye. He nodded, the look on his face showing he knew this feeling all too well.

       "What did people do to you? When you were in school, I mean," Draco asked hesitantly, almost like he didn't want to know but needed to. I had not waited long to tell him he was not alone, that I too had gone through it, and most of all that things get better eventually.

       "Well, for one thing you do not want to know the worst of it," I said, setting down my quill and resting my hands on my desk, thinking back to fifth year and as usual wishing to disappear upon recalling that event.

       "What was the usual, for you?"

       "Hogtied and stuffed in a broom cupboard," I said immediately with a grimace, the words coming almost second nature. According to the talk of the school, James Potter's grandparents had lived in the countryside, and usually had some animals around. I was just another gross pig to tie up. Thank Merlin Harry's like Lily. I couldn't imagine what I would do if I found Harry torturing students in that way.

     "Hogtied?"

     I nodded.

     "Is there a spell for that?" Draco asked incredulously.

     "I daresay there is, but my tormentors found it more fun to stun me and tie the knots without magic. Likely they were too stupid to learn the spell anyway."

     "So, they'd just leave you there?" Draco whispered. "How did you get out?"

    "Well, usually I'd have to wait for someone to open the cupboard. It was difficult to make noise, as they often gagged me as well." I frowned and examined the desk a few seconds, lost in thought and a whole host of emotions that had been stirred up. "Usually I'd fall out of the cupboard when the door was opened. It wasn't such a problem when I was younger, but once I grew a little I practically flattened Filch every time he stumbled upon me. He can curse quite impressively."

       Draco looked as though he thought I was telling tales. "Did you really fall on him?"

     "All the time," I said, only just realising that that aspect did have a slight bit of humour to it. I chuckled a little, years having dulled the pain enough for me to see the lighter side. "Actually, if you watch him open a cupboard he still steps well away from the door, just in case someone's in there. That's thanks to me actually. Watch him the next time he's getting cleaning supplies, he still does it."

    "Hang on, Fred and George were talking about that over the summer," Draco said in surprise. "They said it was always really hard to get Filch with any pranks that involved opening doors because he always stays clear of the opening. You're right!"

    Draco began to laugh. The sound made me feel almost as though I was glowing inside, simply because he had been so troubled as of late, and to hear him laugh showed me that the true Draco I knew had not changed so very much, that he was just lying dormant for a while until things got better. He had put on a brave face, one not so very different from the one I had operated under for so long, or even of the one Harry wore these days. We would get through this. I knew so.

A sudden onset of colds and flus in early November had me brewing potions like there was no tomorrow. Both Poppy and Laura had their hands quite full, and for the days that Poppy was there Laura stayed too to try and get the outbreak under control. The problem mainly, was the first years, who not only were not as adept at keeping clean but were much less able to tough it out. Not to mention, many were still used to their mothers holding their hands and giving them lots of hugs when they were sick. Naturally, I had to make a fair few trips down with potions to the infirmary, and just as many trips down with crying first years in the dead of night.

     "Let me guess, you'll need another batch of Pepper-Up today," I said over my morning coffee while Laura beside me (looking quite haggard) tried to stay awake to drink her coffee as well.  Poppy was still in the hospital wing at the moment, and would soon take her leave to eat as well once Laura returned.

     "Two first years and a second year came in last night, and all three were vomiting," she said to me. "We'll be good for Pepper-Up for at least three days, but Stomach Soothing elixir is what we really need. On top of that we have two others in the same predicament and a whole lot coming in for Pepper-Ups, which means plenty of running around."

      "And I thought I was busy, what with chasing after my boys," I said, rolling my eyes. "Harry charmed my quill to sing obscene songs the other day. He thought it was terribly funny. Where he found the spell I'll never know."  I was rather glad that Harry had finally relaxed enough not to fear he is going to be punished for everything he did (though he knew full well I would probably give him a bit of a talking to about that quill). Molly told me it was a good thing he had finally calmed down a little and started to get into a little mischief, as he used to be petrified of making me mad. But I sometimes wished he would stay a little petrified (just a little mind you) and be a bit less mischievous lest my hair go grey early.

      "I can imagine that is a bit of a chore," she said with a tired laugh. "I haven't worked with teenagers a lot before this, and I forgot how much of a handful they can be at times. I wonder how Poppy manages year after year, with essentially a whole school to look after." Laura shook her head.

      "Great offence," I said very dryly. "Can't count the times she's attacked me and literally dragged me down there herself."

       Laura snorted into her coffee, much to my surprise.

      "Always ladylike, that one," Minerva added lightly from Laura's other side, rolling her eyes.

       I found I didn't mind so much.       

       ***

    I awoke at five in the morning the next day, gasping for air. My chest felt really tight, but that could easily have been due to the fact that I had been dreaming about Lily's murder again. That nightmare always left me in a cold sweat, but this time the dream had been a little different.

        It had begun as it always did, with me overhearing that prophecy, and then as I was thrown out of the Hog's Head I somehow fell into the hall of the Potters' cottage in Godric's Hollow. Nothing new. I then recalled stepping over James Potter's body, but unlike other times, this one had made me feel very ill, because Harry looked so much like him. The dream had only grown stranger still as a four year old Harry then ran grinning down the stairs toward me. He tripped, but as I went to catch him he burst into smoke as the dreamscape twisted before my vision. Yes, that part had been new.

     I ran my hand through my sweaty hair as my chest heaved and the dream kept running like a film through my head. Things in my dream had proceeded as usual when I walked up the staircase, wood splintered and broken as I wove around the wreckage. At that point I took a glance back, and saw James Potter's glasses glinting in the eerie light. I then moved on. Up those steps, steps I have travelled up over and over in a thousand nightmarish recollections. They always seemed to go on forever, and I always broke into a run that felt so slow I would wonder if I'd ever reach the room. But I did, I always did, and each time I found Lily on the floor.

     I always had trouble remembering that part of the dream, when I would go to her and hold her in my arms and all I would hear was the whisper of a scream drifting from the house, a sort of echo of what had happened. But this time Harry had been nowhere in sight, for in most dreams he would be peering at me through the bars of his cot. What made it so much stranger than nightmares like it however, was that Lily did not lie limp in my arms, and instead sat up and rested before me on her knees. I had tried to speak, but she just smiled and took my hand in hers as I sat on the floor. She kissed my fingers, which where woven in hers, and disappeared, giving a gentle nod of her head.

        The dream still lingering within the recesses of my mind, I got up from my bed, knowing that in my dread and confusion I wouldn't sleep again. My legs were weak, whether from the dream or something else I didn't know. Either way, I couldn't seem to catch my breath. It came in gasps, and wheezes. I got up anyway and stumbled to the bathroom to wash my face. My chest pinched tightly and I started to cough, a sick sort of crackling coming from my lungs. I leaned on the edge of the sink. It took me some time to stop, and for a little while after I just stood, knees shaking and knuckles white as I gripped the sink. I took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat from my forehead and splashed my face with water. Looking up, I examined my reflection in the mirror. I had deep shadows under my eyes. I also needed to shave, but that could wait for later, for a little part of me feared to move in case I started to cough again.

      "Just a cold," I said to myself hoarsely, having trouble believing myself. "That's all it is Severus. Don't worry yourself."

      ** 

      "Hey Dad!" Harry said in excitement around breakfast time as he burst through the door to my quarters.

      "Yes?" I said, looking up from my book briefly, quill in hand as I altered a potion recipe. I looked considerably better than I had early in the morning, though I thought my eyes looked a little bit more blood shot than usual due to lack of sleep.

      "Have you read the paper today?" asked Harry.

     "I have not," I said, closing my book. I had in fact read it but he looked so excited I couldn't help but say the opposite so he could tell me the news.

     "The Ministry's finally gotten the proof that Sirius is innocent!" cried Harry, waving the headline I had seen previously. "I mean, I know you don't like him much but ..."

      "No, no, that's good," I said, sounding a little tired. To tell the truth it didn't bother me too much that Black was free, as I thought fresh air might make Black a little less weird. He had gotten even stranger over the summer due to the amount of time he had spent locked up in Grimmauld Place. The reason why I felt this likely had something to do with his little apology to me at Harry's birthday during the holidays, along with a few other things. The way I saw it was that when Black started examining his conscience, he needed to get out of the house.

    "Does Draco know yet?" I asked Harry curiously.

     "No, he's gone and slept in again, you know how he is."

     "No doubt he will be pleased by the news." This I did believe quite strongly, as Draco had gotten rather fond of Black during the occasions we had gone to Headquarters. I suspected the feeling was mutual, as Black seemed to take just as much interest in Draco's life as Harry's (and that was saying something, as Black was even happy to hear about what colour of toothbrush Harry preferred). Harry told me one evening that he thought this was because like Black's family, Draco's parents hadn't been all that interested in him and Black understood this. I wasn't too surprised Black could relate to Draco's previous situation, as everyone at Hogwarts knew that something was wrong with the Black household. There were conflicting messages being put out, when it came to that family. Regulus had always spouted the usual pureblood nonsense, while his brother made it very clear that he was not anything of the sort. I noticed Regulus got all the letters and packages. I could see why too, because if any Gryffindor had an obsession with showing up Slytherin, Sirius Black topped them all. And with all of the other Blacks in Slytherin, he was bound to clash. I might have even felt bad for him a little if he hadn't been such a prat to me.  

      "Are you coming to breakfast?" Harry asked.

     "In a minute or two," I said, scribbling down one more thing in the already marked up book (While the book was my property, this habit of making notes in books was the main reason Madam Pince hated me with a passion). "You haven't seen Munkastrap, have you?"

       "No," Harry said, frowning. "If I catch sight of him I'll tell you."

       I shook my head. That cat was always off somewhere else. I still had my suspicions that he had found some very fun plants down in the greenhouses, as Pomona kept a good supply of catnip down there.  I chuckled slightly, for the thought of fun plants reminded me of the summer before fifth year when Lily and I grew a certain ‘herb' in a planter in her back garden. Her mother, who was by no means a plant expert, thought that it was oregano (Merlin knows why, the leaves look quite different). We let her go on thinking this, and while we had no plans for our crop except perhaps mix it in with something Petunia was planning to eat (preferably right before a date with Vernon), Mrs. Evans had other ideas. She made spaghetti. Needless to say poor Lily had to attend a family meeting once Mr. and Mrs. Evans had returned to their senses. I could only say I told you so, as I had suggested we just grow it in amongst the weeds that had cropped up in weird places back at my house. Though even then I had to admit that we were worried that my father would find out, and at least the Evans' threw words, not drunken fists. But still, after the spaghetti episode, amidst a slight amount of relief I didn't have any new bruises, I felt really bad for Lily getting in trouble. Even if it had been her that procured the plant in the first place. But I had to admit, the story was actually pretty funny now. Especially because Petunia did have a date with Vernon that night.

     "What are you smiling about?" Harry asked, confused as to why I was chuckling slightly to myself.

      Putting on a straight face I shut my book, and said in the flattest voice possible, "Herbology." 

      Harry cocked his head to one side, and then we went to breakfast.

The cough would not go away. For the past few days it had been getting worse; no potion I tried worked. It was getting harder to hide from people. Lately I had had to duck into empty classrooms or something similar to prevent my rasping coughs from being heard.  So, not for the first time in days gone by, I sat with my back resting against the wall, my legs too weak, and head swimming too badly to stay standing. My chest heaved and my throat burned. The empty desks stared at me as I coughed into my handkerchief, as if to ask why there were spots of blood on it. That was what was worrying me the most; I could deal with the dizziness and fainting spells (I had only fainted once since the first time, and luckily nobody witnessed it but Munkastrap, who had come for a brief visit, and I awoke to find him sitting on the floor beside where I was laying). What I could not deal with, was the fact that I was coughing up blood. That is not normal at all, under any circumstances. I could not even explain away the new symptom by low blood pressure or exhaustion, like I could with the fainting.

     What was I supposed to do though, march right into St. Mungos? I would rather have taken the chance that whatever was ailing me was going to kill me, rather than be dragged back to the Dark Lord to be tortured and then killed for being a traitorous wretch. I didn't want to go to Poppy either. Besides, she specialized in more mild illnesses. She did not know a great deal about illnesses that make you faint, wheeze, cough up blood, have trouble standing (Or does that sort of fall under fainting?) and make you tremble head to toe like a first year. I needed to see Albus about this. That was what I really needed to do, because if anyone could find me a healer who knew what they were doing and was not ready to throw me to the Dark Lord, he could. And, to tell the truth I was a little bit frightened, and Albus would be able to understand that.

     I couldn't stand the emptiness of the room any longer, so I stood up on shaky legs and pocketed my spotted handkerchief. Carefully I left the room, and started on my way up to the Headmaster's office. It took me longer than usual to get there, for I had to stop and rest once or twice, taking advantage of empty corridors and spaces behind tapestries.

     It felt like an eternity had passed when I finally got there, and even though I had been so determined to get to this destination, I suddenly wished to turn right around and go back to my quarters to wait for dinner time. Why was I unable to get my tongue to speak the password? It was not hard to figure out however, my reason for not wanting to enter just yet. Inside I knew that once I had told Albus of this, once I had said something about it, I would be acknowledging the fact that there was a problem. I felt it would be so much easier to ignore this. I often ignored illness, and luckily for me all illnesses I had had went away fairly quickly, especially when Pepper-Up potion was applied. I never took days off (however much I hated teaching some of those little cretins) and I never went to the hospital wing. That was my nature. Now I was to defy that, and knowingly talk to someone whom I absolutely knew would make sure I went to a healer. I fought to put aside the fear that I would end up having to stay in a hospital for a while, for hospitals always brought back bad memories of the day my mother died.

       I gave a short, spluttering cough and then I made up my mind.

     "Chocolate Frogs," I said, sounding slightly out of breath. Not that that wasn't the norm these days. 

      I felt so positively green after going up the horrendous spiralling staircase that I was worried Albus would throw a bucket of water on me and I would melt. Normally the staircase did not bother me so much, but with the world already spinning when I was standing still, it made things quite a lot worse.

     "Severus, are you alright?" was the first thing Dumbledore said to me when I entered the office upon his command.

     "Yes," I said automatically as I swallowed thickly. I sighed inwardly and forced myself to tell the truth. "No, actually. No I am not, which is precisely why I have come to see you."

      "Take a seat my boy," he said, gesturing to the empty chair that always occupied the space in front of his desk. "What is it that is troubling you?"

     Let me see, how shall I phrase this? I'm coughing up blood, and it sure as hell feels like I'll cough up my kidneys as well ... I seriously think I might just be dying and that spiral staircase almost made me S-P-E-W something besides house-elf rights all over your nice office.

      "My health appears to be declining," I said. Simple and vague, but still Albus looked alarmed. Yes, it was a good thing I did not say what I had wanted to.

      "How so?" he said. "Does this have anything to do with the fainting episode you had a few weeks ago? Minerva was quite concerned ..."

       "It does, I'm afraid," I said, examining the finely carved edges of his desk.

      "Have you fainted since then?"

      "Just once, though nobody was around but my cat," I said. "He was pretty pissed at me actually, as I was late giving him supper." Albus ignored my language. I thought perhaps he could tell I was simply distracting myself with talk of my cat.

      "Are you sure the cause isn't minor?" he asked me, blue eyes scanning me intently.

       "Albus ..." I muttered, gripping the chair arms tightly, looking this way and that as though someone could overhear, "I'm coughing up blood."

       He appeared not to be surprised, but I could see the look in his eyes. He was worried by my statement, but he was waiting for me to say more. How was it he could always tell when I was only saying part of a story?

     "Everything feels like it's spinning," I told him softly. "When I stand up, or even when I'm walking sometimes the earth feels like it's rocking beneath me. I can't breathe, it feels ... horrible. It ... it makes me think of when the Dark Lord buried me in that coffin, and it was so dark it felt like I couldn't breathe. That can't be normal, can it be, Albus?"

          He was silent for a few moments, before saying, "No, that is not normal."

     "I think I need to go see a Healer, none of my potions are working." I leaned forward in my chair slightly. "Do you know anyone who we could trust?"

     "Yes," Albus said. I thought he understood how grave it was if I was asking to seek medical attention. "Have you gone to see Poppy?"

     "No," I said.

     "That is just as well. This appears to be more serious than what she usually deals with."

     I nodded.

     "I'm sure you will be fine Severus," said Albus, still examining me. "I shall give a good friend a call tonight; he's an excellent Healer. I'll send you a note to inform you of when he can see you. I assure you I will try to get you in as soon as possible."

     "Thank you Albus," I replied.

     "Do you need any time off? You have more than earned it, over the years."

      I shook my head. I couldn't do that, and I told myself it was because I enjoyed my routine; that I'd be bored if I wasn't working. But quite simply it would be easier to pretend everything was alright if I did not take time.

     "How is Harry doing?" Albus asked me.

     "The prophecy is weighing on his shoulders a great deal," I said, eyebrows furrowed. "He's quieter. I think he feels that he too will become another casualty of the second war, but he hopes against it. We're all hoping really." The twinkle was gone from Albus' eyes, and deep down I wondered if he too felt the only thing that we could do now to save Harry was to prepare him for what lay ahead. That was what pained me most, I think, knowing that I could not save him, that all really could do was make sure he knew I believed in him. There was nothing else to be done.

     "So young, to have such burdens," he muttered to me, and by his tone, just for a second, I wondered if he was talking about someone other than just Harry.

     "What are you teaching him, in those lessons?" I asked for yet another time. This question had been constantly upon my lips, ready to burst forth again since September, when Albus told me he was to teach Harry.

      "It is too dangerous for you to know, Severus. I have told you this before."

      "It's not like the Dark Lord is going to find me and ask me what you're teaching him ..." Albus stared at me pointedly. "Alright, ‘this school has twice as many ears and eyes as it does faces'. I know, you've said it before, you needn't tell me again. I just wish I could help him in this."

     "It is a task he must do without you, I am afraid." He let out a slight sigh, revealing his age lines.

      I gathered that Albus did not wish to discuss this anymore. So I thanked him and got up to leave, though a little bit more slowly than usual so as to avoid dizziness.

      "Do Harry and Draco know?" Albus said after a moment, making me stop at the door. We both knew he was not talking of Harry's lessons.

      "No," I said, swallowing. Albus didn't reply, and I closed the door.

     "Hey Dad!" Harry said, his usual greeting sounding only slightly more excited as usual as he stormed through my door in a whirlwind Friday evening. "Professor Dumbledore told me that you're going to be one of the Professors supervising this Hogsmeade weekend. Are you really going to come?"

     "Yes, Albus thinks that I need to get out," I said casually, though inside I was quietly leaping with joy. Fine, I don't leap with joy. Smirking with joy. Yes, that's better.

     "But ... isn't it dangerous?" Harry asked anxiously, twisting his hands. "I thought you had to stay at the castle."

     "There will be Aurors tailing me," I said with mild distaste. "Besides, Dumbledore told me of a good hiding place should I need to get away. It isn't as though I'm going anywhere besides the Three Broomsticks." Harry seemed rather relieved by my statement, which I was glad for.

       For every excursion, no fewer than two Professors accompanied the entourage of students that went to Hogsmeade. We didn't follow anyone around; we were merely there in case there was some sort of emergency, major or minor. Ninety-nine percent of the time it was quiet, and a good excuse to have a hot drink on a cold day. I had yet to find out who was to be on duty with me, but I couldn't even have cared if it was that dingbat Trelawney, as I had a rare chance to get out of the castle. I felt bad for what a hassle it was every time I needed to go somewhere, as the Order had to rally up a few people to follow me at a distance. Normally I avoided placing such tasks upon people who were already quite busy, but Albus had insisted I go tomorrow. Even Minerva told me I had better go or she was going to make me do extra Animagus lessons during the time I would have been in Hogsmeade. Quite frankly, I had made no more progress since the day I had fainted, and that was weeks ago, so another lesson would not be overly enjoyable.

       It was almost strange how much Albus and Minerva wanted me to go. Although, I must say, I had an inkling as to why Albus did. He probably wanted me to get my mind off of what was ailing me. I thought that he could tell just how nervous I was for my appointment on Sunday. That was when I would find out what it was that was making me cough up blood, and to tell the truth I really did not want to know. Either way I would find out, and on the day of the appointment I would tell Harry and Draco that I was heading to Grimmauld Place to tend to a potion for the Order, as it was too dangerous to brew it at Hogwarts where anyone could find it. I knew, deep down, that it would be easier for me in the long run if I just told Harry and Draco straight up that something was wrong with me. Yet I did not want to worry them unnecessarily, these days. Both had heavy burdens to bear, and to add to them the weight of my illness was almost too much for me to bear. So I didn't say anything, and instead let Harry tell me about the upcoming Quidditch game: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

     "Draco and I have a bet going," he said enthusiastically as I gave him a mug of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate was something of a Friday tradition for Harry and I. Draco was always busy Friday nights with Quidditch practice, so it was just the two of us if we had the time. I always had a cup of tea, and I made sure to have Harry's hot chocolate ready for when he came through the door in the evening. We both looked forward to it. Harry took a sip of his drink and then ploughed on explaining what he and Draco were wagering. "So, if Gryffindor loses, I have to eat an entire blood pop. If Slytherin loses Draco has to sing the Gryffindor version of Weasley is Our King and bow to Ron when he sees him during Transfiguration in the morning."

     "A blood pop?" I said, grimacing. Although I couldn't help but feel that Draco's promise was a little bit worse. Then again, he was in a tricky position these days with the Slytherins. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

     "Yeah, pretty gross right?" Harry said, taking another swallow of his hot chocolate. "Well, Draco did say that if I really wanted to I didn't have to eat all of it. But it's not like they use real blood, even if it tastes like it. It might be an interesting challenge."

      "I suppose," I muttered back, thinking I had tasted enough blood to last a lifetime. Between having been in some interesting situations as a Death Eater and not being the most liked student during my Hogwarts days, I hoped to never have a mouth full of blood again. I scowled internally when I recalled the blood spotted handkerchief in my pocket.

      "Look, it stopped snowing," Harry said, glancing out the small window peeking out into the grounds. Big flakes had been drifting down for two days at least, leaving drifts.

     "It will be a cold practice for Draco," I commented, upon looking at the clouds clearing. Without the thick layer of clouds acting as insulation the temperature would surely drop.

     "I love snow," Harry said thoughtfully, staring out the window as though lost in a daydream. "Sometimes when it snowed back when I was living at Privet Drive I would go out and make snow angels. It used to make Aunt Petunia so mad because most often it was pretty mucky and wet. But it was worth having her angry at me. The snow angels were so cheerful. I liked them."

     "Lily and I used to go out into the grounds and make snowmen," I said just as fondly. I chuckled slightly and went on. "In third year we charmed one so that when someone went by it would explode. We waited in one of the greenhouses for a person to walk past it, watching through the glass. We were expecting a student ... but Albus walked by instead and got a face full of snow. He saw our horrified expressions through the glass, seeing as we forgot to duck out of sight because we were so surprised." I shook my head in amusement.

     Harry looked stuck between silent laughter and sympathy. "What did he do?"

     "Oh, Albus was far too good to us. We rushed out of the greenhouse to apologize, and he really should have given us detention, but oddly enough he just stood there, laughed ... and said the looks on our faces were priceless. Then he walked away, just like that."

     "So ... what's the spell?" Harry asked curiously, a rather devilish twinkle in his eyes.

     "Nice try," I said, waving my wand to send his empty mug to the sink. "Now, go bother someone else so I can mark some papers."

     "Okay," Harry replied cheerfully. "Bye Dad."

 And he was out the door. Even once he was gone there was a certain cheer left in the room. With the Dark Lord was stirring up fear everywhere I relished those moments.

     I marked papers for a good half hour. Due to the fact that the assignment on the bezoar I had assigned my first years had turned my brain to soup, I decided I would take a walk. Looking at the clock I realised that Quidditch practice would just be finishing up, so I decided to wander down to the pitch, hoping to say hello to Draco. He was very excited for the upcoming game and I wanted to know how the Slytherin team was shaping up anyway.

     The fresh air felt good in my lungs when I swept outdoors and into the grounds. The Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance and my cloak flapped in the slight wind. The sun was setting in a blaze of glory, the colours pouring over the snow like melted gold stirred into a pot of crimson. I was surprised to find the pitch deserted when I got there; nothing but emptiness in every direction. I was about to turn around and go back, thinking they had ended practice early, when I spotted someone sitting up in the stands. The snow-covered seats around him made the picture a little sad to my eyes, but maybe that was because I was reminded a little bit of my loneliness after Lily and I stopped being friends. I knew who that lonely looking student was, as I knew that blonde hair anywhere.

     I didn't think Draco noticed me growing nearer as I walked through the stands, and if he did he was silent. His broomstick was propped up on his left as I sat down at his right. At once I knew something wasn't right. He would have said something by now. His gloved hands were clenched tightly.

    "What are you doing up here Draco?" I asked, my voice echoing strangely in the emptiness of the stadium.

     He did not reply, but stared off into the distance with a cold, stony look upon his face.

    "What happened?" I said.

    He examined his gloved hands for a few moments before replying. His eyes did not meet mine. "You know how most of the Slytherins haven't been so friendly to me lately?"

    "Mhm."

    "Well ..." he continued softly. He seemed to have trouble finding the right words. Draco took a deep breath. "I came to practice today only to find that they'd already had it. They replaced me."

    "What?" I spluttered. "Why?"

    "Apparently I wasn't good enough," spat Draco bitterly. "Even though I know for a fact that I've beaten their new seeker in tryouts every year he's come out."

     "Well, that's ridiculous then," I told him, anger welling up inside me. While Draco may have gotten on the team partially because of Lucius' influence the first year he played, he had trained hard so that people would stop saying it was merely money that got him there. He'd earned his place by now, and for them to say he was not good enough was asinine. "I'll talk to them."

      "Severus, no," whispered Draco.

      I made to protest but he cut me off, his voice much stronger this time. Defiant almost.

      "I know why they kicked me off, you know why. They won't change their minds and quite frankly I don't want to be on a team with them if they're such judgemental idiots! " He clenched his hands again, his angry breaths filling the air with fog. I felt a small swell of pride in my chest at his statement, but the pain made it melancholy.

     "Draco, you don't have to give up Quidditch," I said, my voice calm. "This is my fault in part ... I think that I can-"

     "No. And I don't care that you being discovered is part of the reason they hate me now. They were never true friends anyway. Friends don't hex each other when their backs are turned! I don't want to be with them anymore than I have to."

     "You're sure, then?" I asked, still having trouble understanding why he was giving up something he loved so much.

     "Yes," he nodded and stood up, a kind of fire in his eyes I had never seen before. His voice grew louder. "I don't care anymore. I just don't. Why even try to do what they want me to do anymore? I DON'T CARE!" Panting, he stood there as the sun retreated further and the cold of night-time crept up on us. The echo of his voice rang through the snowy air, it and it alone making its way across the cold landscape.

     "Draco," I muttered, not even sure of what I was going to say but somehow hoping he would see just how much I understood the pain he felt. That I would give anything to make all of this go away.

     "I'm not going along with any of their rubbish anymore!" His voice was cracking now. "They're going to know that I'm not like them! They'll see ..."

     He grabbed his broomstick and before I could even say anymore he was soaring out of the stands and across the grounds, his face contorted with rage. But I knew better. He wasn't truly that angry; he never was. Lucius had always said tears were a sign of weakness. So Draco hid his sadness with anger. When he was severely disappointed or upset, he chose rage instead. It was easier to shout, and yell and curse; it was the safer option when he lived in the Malfoy house. This response had been ingrained in him, and little did he know it had been ingrained in me too.

      As I trudged slowly to the castle I hoped he would not do anything rash, as I didn't want this to get worse for him. I worried greatly that in the end, the way the Slytherins were treating him might break him somehow, and cause fractures within him I could never repair. The cough that rattled my lungs halfway to the castle only increased the clenching feeling of worry my stomach. The flecks of blood that I spat onto the snow made it feel as though my stomach had dropped to me toes. Such a harsh reminder.

     I was quite happy for the distraction when the weekend came and the students were preparing to make the trip to Hogsmeade.  Draco certainly seemed glad I was one of the supervisors of the trip, as he could avoid trouble by sitting with me in the Three Broomsticks if need be. However, I doubted that he would in the Three Broomsticks long, or even come by at all due to the fact that he had been planning to go to Honeydukes with Hermione and I was quite certain that - like any teenaged couple at Hogwarts - they would eventually end up in that steamy little tea shop that I abhorred.

     Harry had said something about him and Ron going to Zonko's, and so I figured that it would probably be a rather quiet trip, and the week after it not so quiet. I did rather hope that Harry would say hello; once he had gotten a few new atrocities in the hopes of making my hair grey, of course. While I was not looking forward to reports of dung bombs in the near future, I could not help but feel extremely cheerful because today I didn't feel as sick as I had the last few days. It was a minimal difference, but enough for me to allow myself to hope that this illness was just passing over. Then again, my improved state could have had a lot to do with the fact that I had something to take my mind off of the illness, and therefore it didn't seem so prevalent.

    "Cold out, isn't it?" Laura's voice floated over to my ears as she walked over to where I was standing in the entrance hall. The frosty air was pouring in through the doors as students filed out, being prodded by Filch's secrecy sensory as they did so.

    "I'd say so," I said, wondering if it was she who would be accompanying me, seeing as Albus had yet to inform me.

    "Well, we had best get started then if we actually want to have a place to sit down at the Three Broomsticks," she said, confirming my suspicions. She flashed a smile at me and then wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and began to follow the flood of students outside. I suddenly didn't feel the cold so very much.

     The walk was frigid and bitter, and the wind was very strong. I had to help rescue a small third year from being blown away. She had been walking on a patch of ice and her cloak, which was too big for her, caught in the wind and she started to slide backwards on the slippery ground. Luckily Laura and I were nearby, because otherwise she probably would have slid all the way down the slope. For such a cold and windy day however, everybody, even the young third year, seemed quite glad to be going to Hogsmeade. In such trying times and with the Dark Lord slowly gaining power, trips like these were seldom to none, and so everyone appreciated them greatly, even if the day was so cold. Nonetheless it was still quite a relief to reach the Three Broomsticks. With the comforting warmth washing over us, Laura and I chose a table near a window so we could observe what was going on outside. I wasn't too concerned about disaster, as I had been on a great number of Hogsmeade excursions (I thought Albus had something to do with that as he often mentioned I needed to get out more) and majority of the time nothing exciting happened anyway. According to Laura, Minerva had told her of this too, though she looked out the window as though she expected something important and or catastrophic to take place.

     "I'll go get us drinks then," I said. "Is Butterbeer alright?" To tell the truth I really wanted a glass of firewhisky, but that probably was not a good idea considering I was here in case something went wrong. Butterbeer would have to do.

      "That sounds wonderful," Laura replied cheerfully with another dazzling smile before gazing out the window. It was lucky she wasn't looking, considering I almost ran into a table on my way to the counter. I attributed that to dizziness from my illness. Rosmerta looked like she was trying to hold back a smile, for some odd reason. Women, I thought darkly when I noticed this.

      I set a Butterbeer down before Laura and we both took a big swallow. It never ceased to amaze me how much it could warm a person up.

     "So, is this really all Professors do when they supervise Hogsmeade trips?" she asked rather disbelievingly.

      "Yes," I said, almost laughing. Now that I thought of it, it was a little funny. "The village has a fair amount of protection. As Minerva has likely told you, we're only here in case disaster strikes."

       "A good excuse to go for a drink, I'd say," she replied.

       "Sometimes I do think that is Albus' thinking behind it, you know."

       "It certainly beats a day with Irma. She has a habit of breathing down your neck."

       "Pince?"

       "Yes, I help out in the Library on days Poppy doesn't need me to take over. I reorganize shelves and help students find books," she replied. "Albus suggested I could do that as well so I could stay at the school full time rather than go back and forth between places so much. Irma definitely could use the help though; the library has grown quite a bit over the years."

      "That explains a lot ..." I said quietly.

      "Explains what?" Laura asked me curiously.

      "Well, that explains why all the older boys are suddenly going to the library." I had been wondering why the male population of Hogwarts had been so keen as of late on reading.

      "Yes, the new books we got in are very exciting, and they do appeal to a wider audience than what we previously had," she said, her honey brown eyes dancing with excitement. "We've got a whole new shelf in the magical games and sports section. Of course, half of the books in that row are out right now."

      That was not what I was implying, but whatever.

      "What about potions volumes?" I asked after taking another sip of Butterbeer.

     "We received a few, mostly updated versions. Well, and the latest issue of the Potioneer's Journal came in just the other day." She didn't sound all that pleased about the latter.

      "The books I might like, but the Potioneer's Journal I can't stand," I said honestly, rather intrigued by her apparent disgust of the Journal.

      "Thank goodness someone agrees with me," she said, rolling her eyes. "The articles are often quite idiotic."

     "The writers have no idea what they're talking about," I replied with gusto, delighted someone shared my view. Most people did not take kindly to my bashing of the Journal, and frequently told me to just shut up over its inadequacies. "Did you read that article they had last year, in December I think ... I believe it was called The Exciting Properties of Mandrake Seeds. Some wizard down in Belgium finally figured out how to harvest Mandrake seeds and now they're so excited by the magical properties of them, ignoring the fact that lacewing flies in combination with beetle wings - both much cheaper might I add - do the same thing! I figured that out in my fourth year for the love of Merlin!"

      "Oh, goodness, I stopped reading after they published the article about the ‘ground-breaking' potion that cured sneezing," she said with a wave of her hand and scoffed. "Did they really publish the article on Mandrake seeds?" She looked astounded.

    "Yes, and it was horrendous," I assured her. "So I take it you know a lot about Potions then?"

     "Well, with healing you have to know a fair amount about the subject."

     "Hi!" Harry said as he dragged a hesitant Ron over to where we were sitting. "Mind if we join you?"

    "Oh, hello Harry. No, we don't mind," said Laura, surprised because she had her back to the door. She knew him well already thanks to the numerous injuries Harry had sustained while training his new beaters. It was commonly known by now that Laura preferred to call students by their first names, which I understood seeing as she was primarily healing them. Things had to be stricter in the classroom however, in my opinion. "Who's your friend?" she continued.

    "Ron Weasley, ma'am," Weasley replied, looking a little nervous around me. Harry sat down and motioned for Ron to do the same.

     "Nice to meet you Ron," she said, looking delightfully surprised. "I've heard a fair bit about you, you know. I worked for a while with your brother Bill."

     "What?" Weasley asked, confused.

    Laura looked amused by his expression. "I used to be a Curse-Breaker before I changed over to healing. I only switched over about five years ago."

       I coughed a little into my Butterbeer. I did not expect that one

    "You used to be a Curse-Breaker," Weasley said, asking precisely the question I wanted to, sounding as surprised as I felt. She really didn't look they type for that sort of job. Judge a book by its cover ...

    "I did." She took another sip of her Butterbeer, looking a little amused.  

     "Where were you stationed?" continued Weasley, rather intrigued.

    "I was down in Mexico for a two years and then Egypt for the rest of my career," she replied. "It was a really interesting job, but I missed my family, and Scotland, so I came back and took on something a little different." She paused moment and then added rather reluctantly, "That and I almost died when a tomb collapsed. I'd had a couple close calls before, but that was too close."  

    Weasley winced in sympathy as the door opened and a gust of wind came in.

    "So, I take it you didn't manage to find anything at Zonkos?" I asked Harry, noting that it hadn't been too long since they left and neither had packages. Weasley looked disappointed he couldn't ask more about the tomb collapsing, but Laura looked a little pale upon recalling it so I decided Zonko's was a better topic. She looked relieved at this.

    "It's closed down," Harry said, scandalized. "I can't believe it!"

    "Thank Merlin," I muttered, not sympathetic at all.

     "Well, I knew you would be happy," muttered Harry.

    "There you two are," Hermione said to Harry and Weasley, Draco walking beside her.  Her eyes flicked to Laura, then me. "Um, we were trying to find you two earlier to see if you wanted to come to Honeydukes with us. They've got some new fudge samples you and Ron will love."

     "I don't know, I kind of feel like a Butterbeer," Harry said. Hermione looked at him like she was trying to communicate with him telepathically. Sometimes that girl baffled me.

     "Fudge, mate," Weasley said, sounding wistful. "I love fudge."

    "Oh alright," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "See you later then Dad."

     "Goodbye Miss Baldwin, Professor Snape," Hermione said cheerfully. She had on odd gleam in her eyes, for some reason. I wondered if she was ill, or something.

       Then they were out the door, leaving Laura and I to continue bashing the Potioneer's Journal. Eventually, however, after many impressive insults, we moved on to discuss which subjects we had been best in at school. One of my worst and therefore least favourite classes had been astronomy, whereas Laura absolutely loved it because it worked well with her frequent insomnia. She said that she had thought O.W.L and N.E.W.T exams in that class were actually fun because everyone was tired and she was wide awake. In good humour I asked her if she as mildly insane, enjoying astronomy. In response she told me I couldn't talk because I actually like arithmancy and that was just plain strange, for according to her, despite having to take the class for a number of years she had never grown to like it. Arithmancy was not overly popular, that was for sure, but I for one enjoyed the predictability of the numbers and equations. So much less complicated and confusing than life. Regardless of the little barbs we threw along the way, the conversation was highly enjoyable.

     ***

    Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco joined Laura and I for the walk back once the other students were on their way. We all arrived in a flurry of snow, which had begun to fall thickly once more. Draco and I had to work together to close the entrance hall doors with the wind so forceful. I broke into a coughing fit again afterwards. I was very worried it would last really long, but I was lucky this one didn't.

    "That sounds dreadful," said Laura, cringing. "Do you want me to do a few spells to make sure it isn't anything serious?"

    "Thank you, but I will be fine," I replied politely, slightly short of breath and well aware I was being stared at by everyone present. "I've had a bit of a cold lately. The chill is not good for it."

     Everyone didn't appear to be thinking any deeper, but Hermione looked a little suspicious. Mind you, Hermione was always suspicious about something or another.

      After that we all went to the Great Hall for dinner. All through the meal Minerva was busy asking Laura and I how it went. I wasn't sure why she was so interested, but answered her queries anyway, and even Albus was interested to hear how it was. I was surprised by the number of questions, in fact.

      "It was cold, but nice anyway," was what Laura had to say upon Minerva asking our opinions for how the day had been. "It was quite fun if that's what you're wondering."

     She looked pointedly at me. Albus listened intently.     

     "Yes Minerva, for the thousandth time I actually enjoyed myself," I said, rolling my eyes. "You'd think we'd been set up for a blind date or something," I said jokingly to Laura, who was looking a little annoyed as well at all the questions. I threw an exasperated look in Minerva's direction before taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Suddenly Albus and Minerva smiled so hard I thought they were going to explode.

         I just about sprayed my pumpkin juice across the table and Laura almost inhaled some of her peas. The startled looks on our faces were quite likely identical.

      "Surprise!" Minerva said with a slight giggle, looking over at Albus in glee.

      Damn them.

    I could see Harry staring at me in wonder from the Gryffindor table, his goblet halfway to his mouth, both Laura and I sinking down in our chairs in embarrassment.  He really had no idea.

"You're fidgeting worse than a first year Severus," Albus said to me as I twitched in a chair in his office Sunday evening.

I scowled back and stopped twisting my hands, only to have my foot begin to tap involuntarily. Had it not been for what lay ahead, I would have been thinking of nothing but what he and Minerva had done the previous day, and probably would have avoided Albus at all costs. Laura and I had gone on as though it hadn't happened. It was easier to do that, and quite frankly I didn't need anything more complicated in my life, for at the moment I was in the midst of a great deal of anxiety. The Healer Albus had spoken to was going to come to the school today to see me, rather than have me go to St. Mungo's, as I would have needed a few Aurors to accompany me and I preferred to avoid the hassle. I hated any sort of appointment, and it did not matter what it was for. Of course, I would simply have to put that aside if I wanted to find out what the hell was making me so sick anyway. Yet in many ways I didn't want to know, even if it did just turn out to be something weird and easily fixed. I refused to dwell on what should happen if my worst fear should be the outcome of the tests.

Ten minutes later, I stood as still as possible with my eyebrow raised while Healer Phelps (surprisingly young for someone so accomplished) waved his wand over me in strange patterns. We were in the sitting room of Albus' quarters, which were attached by a staircase that went up to his office.

"You mentioned you have been dizzy?" Phelps asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and staring at me as though I were some creature at the zoo. This was why I hated check-ups. A lot.

"Yes," I said rather shortly. "It has been getting worse. Every time I move it feels like the walls are spinning."

Healer Phelps ticked off my symptoms on his fingers as he said them, "Dizziness, fever-like symptoms, chest pains, difficulty breathing (especially during the night), fainting, and coughing up blood. Am I missing anything?"

I thought for a moment before replying that he was not.

"Have you tried any potions?" he inquired.

"All sorts, but they all have little to no effect," I said rather exasperatedly. "I had thought it was some sort of cold, but Pepper-Up did nothing."

His eyebrows were furrowed, whether in thought or grimness I could not tell.

"I have a pretty good idea," he told me as he read the parchment of data that had been collected with a few diagnostic spells. The ink was only just drying, and he placed the parchment carefully on the table. "You'll need to hold very still now, but breathe normally."

He took out his wand and pointed it at my chest, muttering a very long spell which I paid no attention to, as I was too busy worrying. Healer Phelps swung his wand around and pointed it in front of him, and quite suddenly I could see my ribs and lungs projected onto the wall. It looked quite similar to a muggle x-ray. As I breathed the projection moved, black and white and grey shifting before me.

"Oh Merlin, I was right," muttered Phelps, in awe.

"Sorry, but what were you right about?"

"Do you see the white web-like pattern that is stretched across your lungs?"

"Er, yes." Indeed a strange network of thick intertwined lines was reaching over the lower half of each of my lungs. It gave me a deep, unsettled feeling. "Is that ... bad?"

"Yes."

"What are they?" I asked, feeling my heart rate rise.

"There are only two magical illnesses that do this sort of thing, but the other has a distinctly different pattern inside the lungs," Healer Phelps told me as he waved his wand and the projection disappeared. "What cued me in was when you mentioned you wake up frequently gasping for air, and that you are coughing up blood, both very indicative of this illness, especially in conjunction with fainting spells."

"Would you just tell me what it is?" I asked a little irritably, not caring in the least about his thought process.

"Take a seat," he told me with an attempted air of casualness, waving to an armchair before going to grab a book out of the bag he had brought with him.

He flipped through it until he found the page. It looked like a dictionary, only it appeared to be full of medical conditions.

"I am ninety-nine percent sure of what you have, as you exhibit all the symptoms, and the web in the lungs is entirely unique to the illness," he said as he skimmed a few lines in the book. "It's very rare, and I'm afraid it isn't ... isn't good."

"Go on," I said, even though I had an extreme urge to run out of the room with my fingers in my ears and singing Weasley is our King.

"Lethifold Syndrome, or L.S.," said Phelps with a frown as he adjusted his glasses slightly.

"I have never heard of it," I informed him.

"Most haven't, as it's quite rare. There have only been about thirty reported cases in the last twenty years, all scattered across the globe. Before that the disease hadn't been discovered, and even now we don't know the cause. There have likely been more cases, but if muggle doctors do feel they can make a diagnosis, they generally diagnose it as Tuberculosis, when in fact it isn't that at all."

"So what can be done about it?" I asked hopefully.

I felt my stomach clench when I caught sight of the look on his face.

"Well, you see ..." he said in a very quiet voice, "There is no treatment for it."

"Will it get better on its own?" Please, please say yes ... say yes ...

Healer Phelps looked at me, and then at the book in his lap. "I'm sorry ... nobody has ... you see, the survival rate, it's zero."

"Zero," I said faintly, feeling as though I was not here, but somewhere far away. "So ... so I'll die."

"There's nothing I can do," said Phelps softly. "I'm sorry. Right now the healing community hasn't found anything to treat it with."

I was silent for a moment. But I needed to keep talking, and I wasn't sure why. Perhaps I felt that if I just kept talking, just stayed in this room I could pretend it was all a dream. "Why is it called Lethifold Syndrome?" I asked softly, feeling out of breath; even more so than usual.

"It's named after the magical creature, I'm sure you're familiar with it?"

"Yes."

"Well, they often attack and suffocate their victim in its sleep, and as patients with this illness tend to wake up gasping for air, it was ... fitting."

"It'll be like drowning in air, won't it?" I asked uncertainly, my voice rough, my heart beating.

"That ... that is what the reports say, though I've never met someone who has had it," said Phelps shakily. I could tell he didn't often inform people of their impending death. "The symptoms ... they'll get worse and then ... Do you want to know?"

"No, but tell me." Maybe I didn't want to have to spend all my time wondering how it would happen.

"Your lungs will eventually close up as the illness slowly spreads. The way it takes over is similar to a fungus, though it does not spread through spores, or anything like them. The rest of the symptoms will progress as well, particularly dizziness and fainting spells."

"How long ... how long do I have?"

"The best case scenario, I'd say ... maybe seven months."

We were silent for a very long time, it seemed. I couldn't think.

"You haven't had any relatives that have had this, have you?" Phelps asked suddenly.

"I don't think so," I croaked. "Why?"

"Well, it isn't contagious, but there's been a bit of research pointing to people having a genetic predisposition to it. There have been links with other cases. If one person in a family is diagnosed with it, chances are somewhere along the line another will be."

After another long silence I said hollowly, "I suppose that is it then. Nothing else to discuss."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Healer Phelps, looking blue. "Feel free to contact me at any time, if you have questions or ... or just need to talk about it. Albus will know where to find me." He cleared his throat.

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could do more," said Phelps genuinely. With a weary look he went up the small flight of stairs and through the door to Albus' office to floo back. I heard them talking.

I sat stock still in the armchair, the voices floating down through the crack beneath the door. And then my brain unfroze and the thoughts started pouring in, slow at first, but picking up momentum until it felt as though the room was slowly filling with poison. My stomach churned with each thought.

November ... it's November. Seven months. I might not make it to Harry's seventeenth.

Draco will lose another guardian.

Harry will too.

They'll be alone.

Who will be strong for them?

Draco will have to face the Slytherins without me.

Harry will have to face the Dark Lord without me.

How can I tell them this?

It was like the time that the Dark Lord buried me alive, but this time I knew there was no hope, no emergency portkey to take me far away from this; just a slow, painful death.

I swore I could feel the remaining blood drain from my face as my stomach gave a lurch, my heart beating frantically. I ran for the bathroom as I heard the sound of Phelps flooing out of Albus' office. I fell to my knees on the round purple rug by the toilet and threw up.

Alone. Who will be there for them? Albus will be gone too.

I heaved again, shaking all over.

Haven't we all been through enough already?

My breath came in gasps and I rested my clammy forehead on the cool porcelain. I heard footsteps. I was glad I had managed to close the door. I didn't want Albus to see me like this. I retched again, my eyes stinging. My hair stuck to my face and mouth. I gave a heave, but I had barely eaten all day for my nerves.

"Severus?" called Albus through the door. "Are you alright?"

I heaved once more and ignored him, too lost in the whirlwind of thoughts running through my head.

"Severus?" called Albus again, this time a little more urgently.

I took a shuddering breath. "Seven ... Seven fucking months!" I croaked as loudly as I could before I was overtaken by another wave of nausea.

"I know," was Albus' muttered reply. "I know."

"What am I going to tell them?" I said as I trembled all over and gasped for air. "I didn't think ... I never thought ..." that this would be irreversible.

Silence met my ears, and I retched again. Was this all really happening?

Albus sat outside the door almost the entire time. It was a little bit easier knowing someone was out there. He only left once to get a potion for me to drink. He passed it in, and said it calmed the nerves and would help my stomach. I wouldn't have cared if it was a poison; I still would have taken it. My brain was too muddled, and I was in too much shock. When I finally emerged he stared at me a moment; at my grey skin and wide eyes.

"I want you to stay here tonight," he told me gently, gesturing to the sofa with a pillow and blanket.

"Alright," I muttered in a daze. The calming potion was working, and things grew even fuzzier. I think Albus was worried at how easily I was agreeing.

I collapsed into the soft cushions, aching all over from exhaustion. Albus looked at me for a moment, and then to his crippled hand.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" he said with a weak smile.

I nodded.

Both with one foot in the grave and too many things to do before it all ended.

***

Whatever Albus had given me had me fast asleep for a long time, which was surprising. I awoke in his dimly lit sitting room, completely forgetting what had happened. I propped myself up on my elbows, wondering how I got here. With a moan I remembered and sank back on the pillows. Maybe this is all a dream ... I'm not ill at all. Just tired. I fainted again from exhaustion and that's why I'm in Albus' quarters. That's it. But I knew that wasn't true. I just wished it was. I repeatedly told myself that such a situation couldn't be happening, and that it wasn't. I couldn't convince myself.

After what felt like forever, I glanced at the clock. Good. I still had plenty of time before breakfast. I slowly got up and stretched, pushing all my thoughts away. Well, as best as I could anyway. Then I went up the small spiral staircase that led to Albus' office. He was sitting at his desk, scribbling away with a quill. He looked up after finishing a line.

"Morning Severus," he said quietly. I was glad he hadn't tacked on a ‘good' to that, as I didn't feel this morning was good at all.

I found it hard to speak, so I just nodded.

"Are you teaching today? Or would you like to take the day off. You haven't taken leave in years; I certainly wouldn't mind finding someone else for a few days. I do need to have a chat with Horace anyways."

"I'm not taking any days off if I can help it," I snapped back at him. That and I wasn't willing to let Horace Slughorn back into a place which was now my domain. I never did care for him much.

"Very well then," he replied with a sad smile.

Most people I knew would probably have made me take the day off, considering last night's events. Not Albus though, for what he understood was that sometimes the best thing that can be done for a shaky frame of mind is to resume regular activities. Keeping busy doing normal things. For anybody under circumstances like mine there would be too much empty space to fill on a day when one wasn't working. And Albus had every reason to understand. He had been treading carefully for a while as well.

"I'll be in my office for the better part of the day," Albus told me as I went out the door, "should you wish for someone to talk to."

"Albus ... I think it might be better if very few knew of this," I said, having trouble making my words heard.

"I shall exercise great caution," said Albus. "But you had best tell the boys."

"I know," I said, swallowing thickly. And with a swish of my robes I was out of the door and headed to my quarters to prepare for the day. I suddenly felt I couldn't eat breakfast.

***

All through the day, as I paced the classroom and had students continue to work on their potions, I heard the words of Healer Phelps ringing through my head. It was like my skull was empty but for those horrid phrases. There was one phrase however, that decided to stick even more than the others for some odd reason, though it had nothing to do with my impending doom. He had mentioned something about some families having a higher chance of getting Lethifold Syndrome, and in many cases, if one in the family has had it, somewhere down the line another would eventually. I had very few relatives that I actually heard from (majority of my mother's side disowned her for marrying a muggle) and my mother made sure we didn't associate with my father's side much due to the fact that they were just plain poison. Therefore, I really didn't know. I wasn't sure why I was spending so much time contemplating whether or not I knew someone who had had it. Perhaps it had something to do with the nagging feeling in my gut.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson and the fourth years filed out. I sat at my desk, awaiting the arrival of my third year students. I caught sight of a coffee ring on the worn wood of my desk, and I ran my hand over it for a moment. Along with my action, came a memory.

A black haired women frowned slightly and bent down to examine the surface of a battered looking end table. She looked rather mutinously at a stained ring left on the wood.

"Aww Mum, I wouldn't worry about it," said a dark haired boy of about thirteen. He had come down the rickety stairs carrying a stack of books, which he set down in a cauldron that was resting in a battered trunk with a deep scratch down the side. He closed it, revealing the name ‘Prince' engraved on a tarnished piece of metal upon the lid.

"I know hon," she told him. "I just wish Tobias wouldn't set his drinks down straight onto the wood."

"Most often he's too drunk to care where he sets his bottles," the boy scoffed, an air of bitterness about him.

She looked like she wanted to reprimand him for talking about such things, but was too tired to do so.

The woman straightened up and surveyed her son proudly for a moment.

"Oh my, Severus, I hadn't realized you grew so much this summer," she exclaimed.

"Do you think I'll be taller than Tobias?" asked the boy hopefully, his thin chin rising with pride.

"I think so, but only if you eat your greens," said his mother with a laugh.

Severus looked at her with a grin and said, "I knew there was a catch."

"Well, I should say so," - she shook her head -"look how skinny you are!"

He looked at her as if to say ‘you're doing it again'.

Her eyes were laughing as she said, "Well, you certainly do need to put on some meat here ..." She reached over and tickled his side, catching him by surprise and making him yelp with laughter.

"Muuummm," he said, leaping away, "I'm too old to be tickled!"

"Oh but your arms are too skinny," she said, tickling him again, this time under the arms. She was surprisingly quick. "You're too skinny here ... and here!"

Then she swept him into a hug while he laughed.

"I love you Severus," she whispered into his ear, her breath a little bit short.

"I love you too Mum," he muttered back after a second or two, all laughter gone as they stood in silence in the tiny sitting room.

She pulled away, and held him at arms distance again. "How I get by without you each year, I never do know," she said rather tearfully before glancing at the clock. She reached into her pocket for something to wipe her eyes with.

"Mum, what's that on your handkerchief?" asked Severus, looking puzzled as he stared at the red blotch, standing out starkly on the white embroidered cloth.

"I cut my hand yesterday on the broken latch on the gate," she explained calmly, stowing the handkerchief in her pocket once more.

Severus looked relieved, and then he lifted his trunk.

"Are you ready?" She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"Yes," he told her, looking around the room once more, a melancholy sort of happiness upon his face.

It took me a moment to realize my mouth was open in amazement. I closed it just in time, for some third years had begun to file into the classroom. They paid no attention to me.

I had never considered that Mum lied to me. If she did in fact lie, then that meant she had been sick even then, just before I had left, my third year of Hogwarts ahead of me. She had sent me letters, telling me she wasn't feeling well, but until that cold winter day I never knew how serious it was. Mum died in February in a muggle hospital, a few hours after her letter (sent the muggle way as we did not own an ow,l and unlike me she didn't have access to school owls) informed the headmaster. I had been lucky enough to arrive before she did pass away. The muggle Healers hadn't been able to help her, and they had had no idea what was killing her. I never did find out what illness it was, and was sure that she never knew it either. How could she know it was fatal? They would have been able to do nothing for her at St. Mungo's, even if Tobias had allowed her to go there instead of the muggle hospital. Was this the answer to what I had always wondered in the back of my mind? Deep down I knew it was, for she had been coughing before I left for Hogwarts, and she hadn't been moving around as much, now leading me to believe that she had been experiencing dizzy spells. In some ways I wished it had remained a mystery, because now I knew that they could not be mistaken in what I had. It was what it was, and the Lethifold was coming for me. I just hoped I could outrun it long enough to finish a few things.

It was evening, and dinner was done in the Great Hall. I had known all along what I needed to do, and rather sooner than later. If I was going to be gone soon, I needed to find someone to look after Harry and Draco. It made me feel ill, the thought of leaving them, but some things don't come with a choice, and this situation was one of them. And even then, I hated to ask him, even though he was good to both boys. Harry and Draco admired him greatly, and he'd settled down a lot as of late, especially with being declared innocent. I was just thanking my lucky stars Black hadn't found a different place to live yet, as I doubted he would ever tell me just where that was. So, I found myself standing in the entranceway of Grimmauld Place, and in a grim manner indeed.

"Woah," Black said, shocked by just how pale and tired I looked. "Who died?"

He chortled, but upon seeing the look on my face he stifled his laughter quickly, looking quite guilty instead at making a joke. "The boys are okay, right?"

"Yes, yes, they're alright," I replied.

"Good," he replied, looking relieved. "Are you looking for Molly? I can go get her if you would like. She dropped by to look for some doxy spray to borrow."

"No, actually," I said. "I have something to ask you."

Black looked surprised, extremely surprised.

"Well, what is it?"

I hesitated, not sure how to say what I wanted to. Black interrupted my thought, giving me more time.

"Do you want a drink?" he said abruptly, being oddly courteous. "You look worse than Remus." Ah, and there's the insult. That's Black for you.

"Yes, I would," I said, thinking a little Firewhisky might make this easier. I followed him into the kitchen and I sat down at the table. There were a few small labelled moving boxes stacked in the corner of the kitchen.

Black poured me a glass of Firewhisky and sat down across from me, his own glass in hand.

"Well, go on," Black said.

I took a sip of my drink; it numbed my insides further. Now or never Sev, now or never. "If anything were to happen to me, would you look after Harry and Draco?"

"Absolutely," he said immediately, surprised. He narrowed his eyes. "You aren't planning on doing something stupid, are you?"

"No," I retorted, though my voice sounded dull to me, listless even."You're starting to sound like Molly."

Black just rolled his eyes and took a sip of his Firewhisky.

"I don't see why you're so worried then," Black said. "They only have part of the summer left before they can be on their own, Draco sooner than Harry of course."

"I know, but just say, something did happen," I replied, staring at the amber liquid in the glass. "Would you be one hundred percent willing to take them in?"

"Yeah, I would." Black looked confused. "How great is the chance I'll need to?"

I looked up, and immediately I knew he had determined I was leaving something out, that this was not merely my paranoia getting to me.

"For sure. You would for sure be taking them in," I replied, not even trying now to steer away from the truth. I didn't care if Black knew. He wasn't going to get all teary, hell, maybe he would laugh if he knew what I was dying from. It is easier to tell something tragic to those who don't care about you.

"Why?" Black looked at me accusingly. "You're not going to off yourself, are you?"

"No," I said flatly.

He stared at me in scrutiny for a few moments before asking, "When would they be coming into my care?"

I took a gulp of firewhisky. "Maybe June, early July. Either way, when school is done you will probably be the one coming to get them."

"Why?" he looked suddenly worried.

I drained my glass and then said," I'm dying."

Black spluttered on his own firewhisky. "Of what?"

"Lethifold Syndrome, apparently," I said, a little surprised by his flabbergasted reaction. "I hadn't heard of it up until a while ago; it's rare."

Black paused, and then, sounding hopeful, said, "This isn't some sort of prank, is it?"

But even he knew I had never been one to joke much. I shook my head, and then he poured a bit more whisky into our glasses. For a long time neither of us spoke, until Black hesitantly voiced a question.

"How long?"

"Seven months, at best."

"Seven," he croaked.

I did not answer, but instead focused on the feel of the cool glass in my hand, willing the poison within to take over. Just for a moment. Just long enough to forget.

"I used to say that I wished you were dead," Black said quietly.

"I know," I said, feeling a little too numb to even sound bitter.

"I used to think that I would be happier if you were gone, you know, back when we thought you really were a Death Eater," said Black. "Not anymore. I guess when you get older you start to see just how much death effects everyone, no matter who."

"I used to wish I was dead too," I said, the thought tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop it. Ordinarily we would not have been having such a conversation, but right then both of our tongues were a little loose from the whisky.

"What made you stop wishing it?"

"Part of it was because the Dark Lord came back and I had a purpose, as a spy for the Order again," I said, caring far less than I should that I was sharing this with Black. "But what really made me stop was when Draco and Harry came to live with me. I hadn't realized how little I cared about anything before then."

"I always wished I would die in my sleep, in Azkaban," Black muttered. "I hate that feeling; that you just want to close your eyes and never see again."

"It's strange, how for so long I wished for some reason, some thing, to take me out of the world," I began, "and now that that thing has come, I don't want to go."

"That's life for you," said Black a little bitterly. "I've been looking forward to spending more time with Draco and Harry, now that I'm free. But not like this ... Have you told them?"

I sighed slightly, "No."

"I thought so. You've got to tell them."

"I know." I knew all too well.

"Better do it soon," Black suggested. "It will only get harder."

I ran my hand through my hair and nodded.

We were so lost in heavy thought that we didn't hear Molly coming at first, or see her as she entered the room, the elusive bottle of doxy spray in her hand.

"Severus, what brings you here?" Molly inquired as she took in the empty glasses before us and the bottle of whisky.

The two of us jumped badly, and both Black and I pulled out our wands in an instant and stood in various poses ready to duel.

"It's alright, it's just me," Molly said, holding up her doxy spray. We both sat back down, identical looks of irritation on our faces. I supposed Black would be just as paranoid as I, seeing as he had been on the run for so long.

"Since when have you two gotten together for drinks?" Molly asked, though not rudely. In fact, she sounded pleased.

"I had a favour to ask Black," I said a little sharply. "I shall be going now."

Black nodded his head toward me, and our unspoken agreement hung in the air between us. I walked toward the kitchen door but Molly stood in my way. I was worried she was going to interrogate me.

"Arthur was wondering if you and the boys would like to come for Christmas dinner at the Burrow," Molly said. "You're invited too Sirius, if you wish to come."

"That would be nice," I said, a little taken off guard, but relieved it wasn't any sort of accusation. I covered this up well. "Thank you for the invitation; I'm sure the boys will be pleased. Can I bring anything?"

"I can't think of anything right now," said Molly, "but if I do I'll send you a letter. We'll see you there. Sirius?"

"Remus has already invited me to his place," he said apologetically. "But thank you anyway Molly."

"Alright, but if the two of you want to drop by you are most certainly welcome to come. And thank you for the Doxy spray. The infestation is getting quite bad in the garage." With a smile she went over to the fireplace and disappeared in emerald flames.

Both Black and I looked at each other, sharing the feeling of relief, and then I was off.

I arrived at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, entered the gates, and walked the road from Hogsmeade up to the castle. I removed the disillusionment charm and trudged through the snow, the castle looming in the distance and trees lining the snowy path. Though the air was cold I was still warm from the whisky. I didn't let myself think of anything but each step before me, and so I distracted myself by looking around.

     There is something so beautiful about a frozen landscape. The cold isn't always so bad, and today there was something special about the icicles hanging thickly on the trees. Maybe it was because I knew that this would be my last winter here - however much it hurt to think of - but somehow I noticed more than I usually would. Little birds frolicked in among the branches of the trees, and the footprints of mice adorned the snow around the trunks. I smiled a little as I enjoyed the life around me, and I found myself standing still. The silence pressed in on my ears, but then the quiet was broken when I started to notice the tiny noises amongst the trees. Birds twittered, and the gentle tinkle of icicles rubbing together rang through the air while the breeze made the trees creak ever so slightly. I could feel my heart beating strongly in my chest: the steady rhythm of the symphony of life that I was, the miracle, really. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, but after a little while I turned to the left slightly, sure I had seen something in the wood. My breath was taken away when I saw a doe standing amongst the trees. She stood out starkly against the white of the snow and evergreens. Her dark eyes looked at me so innocently, ears perked up. There was a light dusting of snow on her back from rubbing up against the tree branches. She pawed the snow a little bit. I stared in wonder, and she too stood watching me, looking to be equally interested. We stood for a few seconds; seconds that felt like forever, and then she turned and galloped away, taking one last glance at me before disappearing down a slope, the trees rustling lightly behind her. Silence soon returned, and peacefully I returned to the castle, thinking of nothing but icicles and evergreens, and the doe in the stillness of it all.

   Darkness had fallen over the castle and I quietly crept through the hallways. Even if I would have seen a student out of bed, I wasn't sure if I would have tried to catch them. There was one thing and one thing alone I craved tonight, and it was not justice. Up, up, up I went, spiralling closer to the sky as I climbed the tallest tower in Hogwarts: the Astronomy Tower. I had to go slowly, and rest every once and a while, for my lungs got tighter with each step, but I knew that once I finished the climb and reached the top I would feel better. As I ascended the air grew cooler and fresher until I finally spied the door. The chilly air seeped in from the cracks under the door and I opened it slowly and quietly. The cold intensified, but I had dressed warmly and so I was not bothered too much by this. The stars were shining brightly in the blackness overhead. There was something oddly comforting about those little specks of light in a sea of ebony. Maybe it was because they gave me hope. But most of all it was because here I could be anyone under these stars. I could be myself without fearing someone would discover what was slowly sapping the life from me, or scorn me for the past, for my part in the prophecy. My stomach clenched when I thought of it, for I had still not told Harry of my part in the prophecy. Not wanting to further complicate my life, I pushed this thought away, and allowed myself to become lost in the stars above. And after a little while, as I leaned on the railing and looked up into the beautiful beyond, I let out a breath I had not realized I had been holding these past number of days.

     This was where I talked to Lily. Maybe she couldn't hear me, maybe she could, but either way it felt good to sometimes acknowledge that she had existed, that she was still there in my heart. Tonight I had a lot on my mind, and it burst forth in a rush from my mouth as I poured out my secrets to the universe, to my Lily who at times appeared to have known me far better than I ever did. I told her how Albus had been telling me that I needed to let her go. He said that it had been fifteen years. To me it felt like a minute, and yet a lifetime. I whispered up to her that I was still fearful of my past, that it would again come back to ruin what I had so carefully built. I told her how I was still afraid to tell Draco and Harry about my illness. How much it scared me to know that that life-taking spider web was spinning its way across my lungs. I whispered aloud my fear that Harry was slipping away from me. The past few days he had been very quiet. I hoped he would be able to confide in me.

    "I'm terrified Lily," I whispered once again as I leaned against the railing, the steam from my breath erupting in the cold air. "What will it be like? To die. Will I see you again? I don't know anymore. Even if there is something after this, then why should I be allowed a place in it? Albus says I've more than made up for what I did, that it''s only me still holding up the blame." I exhaled carefully. "I just wish I could stop thinking about it."

       An owl swooped in and out of the trees in the forbidden forest. The cold wind tousled my hair as it ran past.

     "I have to tell him about it," I muttered, thinking of the day I overheard the prophecy. "All I've done is make excuses, and delay and delude myself into thinking I don't need to tell him. Harry will find out one way or another, and I'd prefer it to be from me."

      The chill was starting to creep into my bones, and I could feel my joints aching very slightly from the numerous times I had had the cruciatus cast upon me, but this did not deter me in the least.

     "I miss you still," I said, the kind of longing I had felt for so many years briefly intensifying. I was about to open my mouth to continue talking when I heard footsteps.

     I stood stock still as the sound of the door handle jiggling met my ears. I whirled around, and the person that I saw looked equally surprised to find me up here.

     "Hello," Laura said nervously, biting her lip from where she stood on the little landing outside the door.

     "Hello yourself," I replied slowly.

     "I was just ... taking a walk and -" Laura said, voice overlapping with mine as I tried to explain I had seen a student in the vicinity. We had been slightly awkward around each other since Albus and Minerva's decision to play matchmaker, and had pretty much agreed to ignore the whole incident and go on as normal. But we still couldn't really forget it completely.

     We stopped once we realized we were both trying to say something we were not doing.

     "Were you up here with someone?" Laura asked hesitantly as she lingered in the doorway, looking as though she really thought she should go.  "I heard someone talking. Maybe it was my imagination ..."

     "No," I muttered, the moonlight casting long shadows behind the both of us. I glanced over my shoulder at the starry sky  before returning my gaze to her.

    "Were you talking to yourself?" She didn't sound as though she were accusing me, but was merely curious. She took a few hesitant steps through the doorway so that she was fully in the tower room. "It's alright, I won't judge you," she added.

    "I certainly was not," I scoffed in response to her question, for it was entirely true, in a sense. I wasn't talking to myself, per say. She looked at me, clearly saying with her eyes that she knew there was something more. She was far cleverer than I gave her credit for. 

    "Who were you really talking to then?" she asked, a fascinated light crossing her face, as though I were some sort of puzzle she was trying to put together. She was a Ravenclaw, after all.

    I raised an eyebrow and answered with a question. "Well ... what are you doing up here?"

    "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

     I rolled my eyes in irritation and turned away from her to lean on the railing once more. Hopefully she would just leave. Though in some ways, I did not wish to be alone in the tower again. Sometimes company was alright, and I thought she saw that, as she walked carefully over to where I was standing, dainty hands gracing the railing a few feet from me.

     "I'm a mild insomniac, and when I was a student I used to sneak up here when I couldn't sleep," Laura told me softly, taking a sidelong glance at me, her eyes wide in the moonlight. There were deep shadows under her eyes, the moonlight making the rest of her face pale. "That's part of why I'm up here tonight."

     I didn't say anything, but tucked the information away for later as I marvelled at her determination. Usually when I scowled at someone and turned my back to them people left, but for some reason she didn't. I briefly wondered what the other part was that made her come up here, but quashed the urge to ask.

          I wasn't sure why I was saying it. Maybe it had something to do with the way her wavy brown hair fluttered in the moonlight and her eyes, her eyes stared deep into my soul.

     "I was talking to someone who died a long time ago," I said softly. "And I'm not crazy." I was being defensive again. It was always hard not to be.

     "Well, even if you were crazy I would be too then," she said with a chuckle. There was an almost undetectable bitter edge to it. "I do plenty of talking to people who aren't here anymore."

     I looked at her curiously, but she did not elaborate, and instead seemed lost in the shadows of the moonlight that danced over the cold lake.

    "Do you ever wish you could be a bird?" she asked abruptly, unaware that I was studying her intently.

     "I have never thought about it, to be honest."

    "When I was young I used to dream about flying through the night air and over the ocean, when the moon was out. I always had the strangest longing to follow the reflection of the moon over the water, on and on, as though it would take me to some untouched land." She gave slight sigh, a whimsical look on her face. "I sometimes still dream of it."

I had to admit it was a fanciful thought, just oneself, the ocean air and the glimmer of the water.

       "I think we all want that sometimes," I muttered back, thinking that I would very much love to give up my problems and worries to follow moonbeams and stars.

      Laura continued to stare out at the sky, and I wondered who she had to talk to that was gone. I did, and yet didn't want to ask, for she had been kind enough not to ask who precisely I had been talking to, so I took one last look at the stars and said that I was departing. I wished to stay longer, for a kind of peace had fallen over me, but I knew that Minerva was bound to be her usual self and stop me from drinking too many cups of coffee tomorrow morning. She hated coffee and always nagged so badly it was often worth being horrendously tired. But maybe, just maybe, the part of me that wanted to leave was scared by how much I was comforted by Laura being there.

      "Goodbye then," Laura called to me as I left.

     Her voice echoed in my ears as I slowly descended, down, down, down from the tower and to the dungeons. I stumbled through the secret door into my quarters, coughing forcefully into my handkerchief. I fell, wheezing onto the rug and simply sat there for a few moments. After that I slowly crept into my bed, my tired body sinking into the softness. I didn't let myself think of blood or of Lethifolds, or the darkness I felt I had fallen into. Instead I thought of stars, and towers and moonbeams and the colour of honey. And in spite of it all, I almost smiled.  

       ***

      A few days passed by. I was really not quite sure how many, as everything seemed to have gone by in a haze. I couldn't settle down to a book, and I couldn't even pay attention to marking papers. What I mostly found myself doing today was staring into empty space, and so it was quite a relief when Harry came in and sat down at the table, where I had been trying to mark papers but was instead failing miserably. He looked mildly puzzled about something.

     "Dad?" he asked after our initial hellos.

     "Yes?" My heart started to beat fast. What if he had noticed something was wrong with me? What if he had seen the blood spots on the white cuffs that protruded from my black sleeves? I had done my best to get all of the spots off, but sometimes they were missed.

     "What do you know about women?" Harry said in a rush, sounding anxious.

     I could have laughed with relief. Harry probably fancied someone, but I wouldn't bother him about it. I was sure I would find out soon enough without him telling me.

    Hang on ... what do I know about women? I wondered rather incredulously.

      "Well ..." I said, stalling for a moment and trying to think of something intelligent. "They ... er, cry ... more than men."

    That is all you could come up with Severus? Merlin you're hopeless.

     "Yeah, they do," Harry muttered darkly. "Out of curiosity, er ... is there is any way to ask a girl out without sounding like an idiot?"

      "I suppose so," I replied.

     Harry looked a little elated, and upon his reply pretended to sound nonchalant. "How?"

       "I have no idea." My response was quite automatic.

      "You ... don't?" Harry asked, the look upon his face priceless. It was as though he had expected me to have infinite amounts of experience in this field. Harry was funny sometimes, for, having missed the chance to have a stable guardian as a child, his lack of experience having one made him much more likely to think I was utterly perfect in certain areas. It was a little funny, I must admit. Childlike belief, was what some called it, and how it still shone from Harry on occasion, after all he had been through, was a mystery I didn't think I would ever fully understand.

      "I haven't asked anybody out in my life, actually," I admitted a little dully.

      "Have you at least gone on a date before?" Harry looked at me with a very incredulous expression as he fidgeted in his chair.

     "Well ... Lucius Malfoy set me up a number of times over the years." I scowled a little. "I'm quite sure that trying to find me a woman was his hobby. He ignored the fact that I am not interested in the least in Death Eaters. Some even made Bellatrix Lestrange seem sane."

    Harry stared at me for a moment. He was quite obviously surprised.

     "Trust me, if you were as disliked as I during your school days you wouldn't have had many girlfriends either," I told him patiently. Alright, so maybe it didn't help that I was a hopeless case what with being too busy falling for Lily, but I really wasn't going to tell Harry such a thing. Imagine that conversation ... "By the way Harry, your mother was really attractive and I have always wanted nothing more than to snog her". I likely would need to take him to mind healer after that one.

     "Dad, are you okay?" Harry asked, undoubtedly noticing the glazed expression on my face.

     "Perfectly fine."

     "I'm hopeless," said Harry suddenly, looking blue. "How can I ever be with a nice girl if I don't know the first thing about them?"

     "So, what's Hermione then?" I asked. "You know Hermione, and other girls can't be that different from her. Even if she is much smarter than majority of them."

    "That's right," cried Harry. "Hermione's a girl!"

     I rolled my eyes, recalling Hermione mentioning to me during her visit in the summer that both Harry and Ron had made a similar but brief revelation in their fourth year. I was happy to have lit the lantern again for him to illuminate that fact. "Just go by what you know about her, and I'm sure she'd be happy to answer questions about what girls look for in a man. Mind you, if she finds Draco appealing, maybe not."

     Harry snickered a bit at my joke and then said, "Thanks Dad, you're brilliant!"

     Yes ... yes I am!

     Just then there was a knock on the door to my office, which, thanks to magic, I could hear inside my quarters. I excused myself and went out into my office to answer the door.

     "Hello Hagrid, what can I do for you?" I asked curiously.

     "Yer cat showed up at my hut a while ago," Hagrid told me. "He's got a friend, and I think yeh should see this professor."

      "Is it urgent?" I asked, not really wishing to go anywhere.

       "Well," Hagrid began, looking like it was something I would want to know, so I went inside to get my cloak.

        Harry asked if he could come with me, and I said yes. Hagrid didn't object to this so I decided that Munkastrap couldn't be too worse for wear. Although, Munkastrap, being a magically bred cat, was quite a bit more clever than any muggle breed. Though I had no idea what Hagrid had meant about him having a friend.

      I soon found this out however, when we arrived at Hagrid's hut and stood around the fire. What I saw before me explained where Munk had been going to these days, and why he had looked so smug on each occasion he had actually decided to come visit me.

     A sleek orange tabby was sitting next to him on a blanket of Hagrid's.

     "You rascal," I said in amazement as Munk smugly licked his paws. Yes. And to top it all there was a litter of kittens all lying in a bunch beside the tabby. I was not surprised that Munk had stayed with the Tabby, as magical cats often mated for life.

     "Even Munk has a girl," Harry muttered incredulously. He seemed to be feeling quite sorry for himself. But then again, what with Hermione and Draco together, and Ron Weasley corresponding with a witch he'd met in Ottery St Catchpole that went to another smaller school nearby, I couldn't quite blame him.

     "Rather Munkastrap having a pile of offspring than you though," I said through my teeth.

      Harry nodded very vigorously and Hagrid chortled.

     "She was layin' in the snow outside, so I brought her in and she had her kittens," Hagrid informed me. "Yer cat wanted to come in too, so I let him."

    That could not have been very long ago. I kneeled down to look at the kittens, and the mother hissed. Munk made a weird but comforting yowling noise at her and she calmed down, looking far more relaxed. I could only assume that he had told her that she could trust me. I looked down at the tiny balls of mewling fur. It was a little bit difficult to discern how many, as they were all cuddled together.

     "One, two, three ... four ..." - I paused for a minute - "no, five," I added as a tiny grey one yawned beneath two others.

     "Three girls, two boys," Hagrid proudly announced. "Little, aren' they?"

      There were three orange ones, with varying degrees of white on them. There was a soft grey one with the same white spot on its nose as Munk. The last was as black as Munkatrap was, though lacking his markings. This one had white paws as well, like the mother. In quiet but delighted surprise at this turn of the events, I gently stroked the black one, and it nuzzled my finger blindly. Harry bent down too and examined a chubby little orange one that was curled up in a perfect ball.

    "Thank you Hagrid for informing me," I said. "Do you think the female belongs to anybody?"

    "No, I've seen her wanderin' the grounds for a long time," Hagrid said. "I've asked up at the school and she isn't one of the students' cats. She sometimes comes ter visit me. She trusts me, so I think it migh' be better if the kittens say here ‘til they're grown."

     "I quite agree," I said. "You know far more about animals than I do. Unless you find otherwise, if the mother is a stray, I suppose that once they are big enough I shall see if I can find people to adopt the kittens."

     "Sounds good ter me."

      I was personally a bit surprised that Hagrid had actually taken a liking to the kittens, as they did not sting, spit fire, belch slime or sport tentacles. By the look on Harry's face, he thought the same.

     "Are we going to keep any of them?" Harry asked, now admiring the smallest one, which was the grey. He seemed to have taken a liking to it, and he let its tiny mouth explore the tip of his finger.

    "We'll see," I replied.

    "Hagrid, can I come by tomorrow to see them?"

     Hagrid beamed beneath his beard. "I'd love ter have yeh Harry."

     "Well, thank you Hagrid," I said, suddenly feeling tired. "I shall be going now then."

    "Alright, you can come ter visit them anytime too," he offered.

     I nodded in thanks and gave Munk a good scratch on the back (he seemed to want to stay with his mate for the moment) and departed, Harry following close behind and talking my ear off about a group of ducklings his class had ended up taking care of back when he was in primary school. According to him the teacher trusted him enough to let him play gently with the ducks before school when everyone was outside playing. He liked that.

Tension was high in the halls come Friday, as everybody had something to say about which Quidditch team was to win on Saturday morning. The Slytherins were even more rowdy and I had to break up a shouting match in the entrance hall between a few students from my house and some Gryffindors.

Draco looked lost. Harry felt horrible for him, and had told me this many times. Though it felt like forever ago, it had only been about a week and a half since Draco had been terminated from the team, and I thought that a lot of the tension in the hallways was mostly due to the Slytherins' hope that their new seeker would be alright. Their new seeker did have experience, but they had taken a serious risk in throwing Draco off the team, and that I think was what bothered Draco most. He knew very well he was better, and understood that they must have had a hell of a lot against him if they were risking so much to be shot of him. I had asked him numerous times if he wanted me to do something about it. He had replied no every time and meant it, and I respected his decision. Yet still, I wished there was more I could do.

I noticed immediately (no no surprise on my part) that there was something peculiar about the way Draco was acting. I knew him, and I knew that he had a very slow fuse. He was Slytherin enough to do a lot of damage if he thought through his actions, and I hoped very much he would not do something to make things worse. The look in his eyes that I saw -that quiet feeling of injustice brewing in one's soul - is very dangerous in a Slytherin. Gryffindors do stupid things that are over quick. Ravenclaws in a few cases are intelligent enough to know revenge is not worth it, and if they aren't they do something that is clever and almost unnoticed except by the victims. Hufflepuffs are usually split into two types: the ones that go to authority and with their innocent, seemingly vulnerable nature, guarantee plenty of punishment for the one that wronged them; and the ones that gossip to undermine status. But Slytherins ... you can never know what a Slytherin will do. They are guarded, they are calm and collected on the outside, and then a storm is released with all the intelligence of a Ravenclaw's revenge, the destructiveness of a Hufflepuff's, the scale of a Gryffindor's and a twist uniquely their own. Years of observation had helped me to form these guidelines, and while there certainly were exceptions, they were often quite accurate. Still, with all my years of closely paying attention to the ways of my Slytherins, I had no idea what Draco would do, and quite frankly, I was nervous.

So naturally, when I awoke Saturday morning and went down to the Great Hall, I was even more nervous than Friday. This only escalated as Minerva and I discussed the possible outcomes of the match. The news by now was all over the school, or at least it had gone through the student population, so I was quite sure she knew why Draco had been replaced. I could see it in her eyes, and I knew very well that she was worried too. My suspicions were confirmed.

"This is one of those things that might just be better to let slide," she murmured to me as I spread marmalade on my toast. "I hope Draco sees that. Any action would be foolhardy in this situation."

"I quite agree," I said back, voice low. "I am not quite so worried about what the students can do to him, I worry more about their parents."

Minerva nodded curtly as Laura sat down next to her and poured herself a cup of coffee, no cream or sugar. That only irritated Minerva further.

"I wish you wouldn't drink so much of that horrid stuff," Minerva said, being a strong advocate of tea.

"If you slept as little as me you would drink this much coffee too," Laura scoffed before taking a sip. She sighed, immediately looking much more cheerful.

"Who are you supporting?" I asked her.

"Gryffindor I think," she said apologetically.

"Oh, I'm not offended," I assured her quite sincerely. "I thought I would never say this, but today I would much rather cheer for Gryffindor too."

"Slytherins been giving you a hard time?" she asked, amused.

"You could say that," I muttered, scanning the mass of green that was the Slytherin table.

Draco was nowhere to be seen. There was a gnawing feeling in my gut that I could not escape. The teams stood up, and amongst plenty of cheering they headed out the doors and off to the pitch. Harry glanced back at me as Gryffindor supporters, clad in red and gold, patted him on the back. I inclined my head slightly, as I always did to wish him luck, and even though I knew Draco's absence was bothering him, he smiled slightly. I ignored the fact that Minerva had been watching our silent display and now had the same look on her face as Albus did when he was handed a large bag of sweets. Women.

The walk out to the pitch was uneventful, and all the while I scanned the crowds. Still no Draco. By then I admit I was thinking that he had probably just stayed in bed, providing any of the Slytherins actually let him rather than make him come and suffer through the game.

The cold wind rattled through the stands as a brutal match began. The Gryffindor supporters roared loudly at the Slytherins, who were waving flags and booing. Meanwhile play continued. Ten minutes into the game and I still could not see Draco anywhere. I decided he had most definitely skipped the match.

"Well would you look at that folks!" cried the commentator, Zacharias Smith, into the megaphone. "Quite an interesting display over with the Gryffindors. Isn't that Draco Malfoy?"

I swore extremely colourfully, earning me sharp looks and scathing comments about ‘young professors' from the older staff members in the teachers' portion of the stands.

"Yes, that is definitely Malfoy. I wonder what the Slytherins think of that." The green clad supporters yelled in outrage. "Well, there you have it folks."

I had finally seen what Draco had been planning, and his plan had made play stall to a complete stop. He had showed up late to the game, and quite purposefully I imagined. His plan certainly did not have the trademark of a Slytherin, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw or the strangely biting quality of a Hufflepuff's. No, oh no ... his plan was extremely crazy, and very, very Gryffindor (in more ways than one), and I wondered immediately if he had even been placed in the right house, for his rash insanity astounded me.

Every bit of skin that was showing on Draco was painted gold and red, he was wearing a Gryffindor flag as a cape, and on his head was a tall crown that was flashing bright colours with Weasley painted upon it in bold letters that I could clearly make out across the stands. Harry, far above the crowd stayed hovering in the air on his broom, gaping down below him. Ron Weasley looked thunderstruck from where he was guarding the goalposts. But it was nothing compared to how the Slytherins looked. In their eyes, this was nothing short of treason. I had to sit down because I couldn't breathe amongst the profanities being screamed at Draco. Minerva asked me if I wasn't feeling well, and I asked her if the snitch was gold. She had finally caught sight of Draco, and she too sat down.

"Oh dear," she muttered. "They are going to kill him."

I nodded, watching Draco lead a rowdy chorus of Weasley is our King, the Gryffindors having gotten over the initial shock and now beginning to enjoy the general outrage of the Slytherin supporters.

"Merlin," I muttered breathlessly as he turned around, and standing stock still as he stared straight at the Slytherin captain. It was a very clear sign to all. He then grabbed something from his pocket and threw it down at his feet. The Gryffindor side erupted in smoke, and when it cleared he was gone. I pushed my way through the rows, ignoring the other staff protesting and I leaped down the stairs, faster than I ever thought possible. I arrived at the exit to the stadium and looked across the grounds just in time to see a streak of red and gold sprinting to the castle as though death himself was following close behind.

I leaned against the wooden walls of the pitch, legs wobbling from exertion, cold fear gripping my belly as I coughed violently. I spat crimson into the snow.

"What have you done Draco?" I whispered hoarsely as I watched him run.

Draco looked back as he neared the top of the slope. He faltered for a moment, looking straight at me. Then he looked away and kept running, like he feared me as much as any of the other Sytherins. I felt sicker than I had in a long time, and it was not because of any illness. It is a dangerous thing to show the enemy where your heart lies, and that was just what Draco had done.

I arrived at my quarters after the match, weary, tired. Gryffindor won. But even so, the last glimpse I had caught of Harry before he had gone into the changing rooms was one of worry, not celebration. I sighed as I walked over to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin in my office. He looked extremely haughty. I said the password, but was surprised when the figure in the painting spoke instead.

"You had better have a word with that boy. I only let him in because I couldn't stand the sight of him," spat Salazar, "the little traitor. "

I could feel my temple throb. I drew my wand and pointed it straight at Salazar's painted face, and venomously I retorted, "If you ever call my son a traitor again I will burn you until you are nothing but a pile of ash. Do you understand?"

He nodded, looking as though he wished to say more but thought better of it.

"Now let me in," I growled.

He obliged, and I swept through into my quarters, mentally calming myself so Draco did not think that it was him that I was mad at. I pulled my cloak off and hung it on the peg by the door. I turned to see Draco sitting on my sofa, his face still painted in red and gold, though it was a little bit smeared. He wouldn't look at me. I did not mention this. That was the reason I had let him be for a little while before looking for him. I knew he would not want to talk right after.

"Draco," I said softly.

"I know, I know!" he said loudly, eyes wide as he examined his lap. "It was stupid, but I don't regret it. In fact I enjoyed it. I'm not one of them, I'm not what everyone thinks I am!"

"I'm not angry," I said. This was not the truth; in fact I was terribly angry at how stupid he had been, and how much he was going to be hurt from it. But I knew that I would get much further if I was calm and understanding.

Draco took a deep breath, "I still can't believe they treated me like that." He looked up at me suddenly, eyes wide. "I thought they were my friends. Course this year I found out otherwise ..."

"I know how you feel," I said, and after a heavy pause I continued. "Luckily you still have Harry, and Hermione. And by the looks of it you've won over a few Gryffindors."

Draco nodded. He looked suddenly younger. Terrified sitting on my sofa, and he reminded me of a time a little more than a decade ago.

A small blonde haired boy sat upon a battered sofa, feet dangling. He had his hands in his lap, and a dark haired man was sitting with him, holding his hand. The little boy didn't look much older than five.

"It's dangerous for you to floo over here all on your own," said the dark haired man gently. "I want you to ask Dobby next time to bring you here if things are getting scary."

"Okay Seberus," whispered the little boy, leaning into the man.

"Did you tell them you were going Draco?" asked Severus.

"No," he whispered.

"I think someone should know," said Severus. "Could you call Dobby for me so I can tell him where you are?"

"Okay." Draco looked around a second then called out softly, "Dobby."

There was a loud crack and a house elf appeared in the sitting room.

"What can Dobby do for Master Draco?" asked the elf, big eyes full of worry.

"It was I who wished to speak with you." The elf looked attentive. "When Narcissa and Lucius are looking for Draco," said Severus carefully, "tell them that he is at his godfather's."

"Yes sir," said Dobby in a squeaky voice. He bowed low to the ground, his batty ears flapping.

"You may go now," said Severus.

"Bye bye Dobby," Draco said.

"Goodbye Master Draco," beamed Dobby, wiping tears from his eyes before disappearing with a crack.

"How come Father and Mother yell so much?" the little boy asked the man.

Severus looked uncomfortable, and frowned as though he were trying to decide how to explain it.

"They aren't very happy," was what he settled for.

"Why?"

"Someday you will understand," Severus said. "What you need to know now is that it is not your fault. You are not the reason why they fight." Severus had an urgent look on his face, as though he wanted nothing more than for Draco to know this.

"I'm not?" Draco asked innocently, looking up in surprise at Severus, who upon the little boy's words looked like his heart might break.

"You are never the reason." He awkwardly pulled the little boy onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Draco rested his head on Severus' shoulder and closed his eyes tightly.

"I wish you were my Daddy," Draco whispered. "Father isn't a Daddy. Daddies care."

What few lines there were on Severus' face creased suddenly, and he closed his eyes.

Draco's frame shivered. He fingered the material of the cape he had made as he swept off the Weasley crown. He looked so very alone. I left for a moment and returned with a soapy flannel.

"Here, get the paint off," I told him, handing it to him. He nodded, twisting the flannel in his hands.

"Even if things will be bad, I'm glad I did it," Draco said suddenly, a fire in his eyes. "Somebody had to speak up. I'm not the only one they shun. I just wish things hadn't come to this."

"I think everyone wishes that at some point or another," I muttered.

Then, I went to make a cup of hot chocolate for Draco as he removed the face paint. I took one of my many well used mugs down from the cupboard. It had a long crack down the side. I sighed and pulled my wand from my pocket and gave the mug a tap to fix it. "There," I breathed, and I set it aside for later, and rummaged around for a saucepan to heat the milk in. After a few moments I couldn't help but be a little amused that in such a short space of time I had become an expert at making hot chocolate, after years of making nothing but tea and coffee. It still surprised me just how fast life had changed for me with two boys. And here it was, changing again. My snake bold and as brash as a lion.

I heard a familiar voice saying the password, followed by footsteps through the door that led to my quarters. I reached for another mug, this one for Harry.

"Blimey Draco," I heard Harry mutter to him as the sound of the springs creaking on the sofa met my ears.

"Crazy, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, kind of cool, but crazy," Harry said back. "Well, I guess that will draw a little attention to the injustice the Slytherins have been up to these days."

"Hopefully," muttered Draco. "I'm glad you beat them."

"Yeah, me too. I caught that snitch for you, just so you know. Where's Dad?"

"Thanks ... he's in the kitchen." Draco sounded quite grateful for Harry's statement.

Footsteps drew nearer to the doorway, and I turned to see Harry standing there as I waved my wand at a saucepan on the small stove. Harry's hair was damp from showering, and it dripped onto the shoulders of his robes.

"Is he okay?" Harry whispered to me.

"He will be," was my honest reply. "Just give him time. He's been under a lot of stress lately."

"I can't believe he did that, it was kind of exciting, but still ..."

"I know." Our eyes met and we both knew that things would get much worse before they got better. "I'm surprised you aren't back in Gryffindor tower; surely there is a party going on?"

"I don't feel like it tonight," Harry sighed. "Besides, I'd rather be here. I'm sure this won't be the last Gryffindor victory."

I nodded, and just then I heard a knock on my office door, and went to get it. I was extremely surprised to find Hermione standing out in the corridor sobbing freely.

I beckoned her in, looking this way and that through the corridor. She practically threw herself into my office. Once the door was shut I turned to find her practically melting by the portrait of Salazar, who looked quite disgusted and edged slowly away in his frame.

     "Hermione, what on earth is wrong?"

      I was utterly bewildered. Yes, we were all worried for Draco, but the Slytherins hadn't said anything yet and I really had no idea what could make her so upset. I knew she had been under a lot of stress lately, but I had yet to see her in tears.

"Th-they're taking b-b-bets in the common r-room," she said, trying to keep herself calm.

"About what?" I asked patiently, a sort of foreboding shivering through me.

"Which way the S-Slytherins are g-g-going to m-m-murder Draco!" Her eyes were wide as she breathed in short gasps. "A-And whether or n-not they might j-j-just throw him to Y-You Know Who b-because their parents are D-Death Eaters!"

That's nice. I'll have to have a chat with Minerva.

"Well, I doubt they'll murder him, but come in," I said wearily as she hiccupped, her bushy hair sticking out in places. "Draco and Harry are here too."

     She followed my through the doorway just as I was wondering when I had become the go-to person for consoling people who were having minor or major breakdowns. It wasn't uncommon for Hermione to drop by every so often to say hello, but I had yet her in such a state during the course of the year.

I told her to sit on the sofa with Draco and Harry and then I went to take down yet another mug. I glanced back at the three teenagers sitting on my sofa, and I knew that it was now or never. I had known as soon as she walked through the door. It wasn't a good day. It wasn't good news. But I knew I needed to tell them eventually what was going on with me, and if I did not now I would never get the courage again. I fidgeted as the hot chocolate bubbled in the saucepan. I flicked my wand and it soared up and poured into equal amounts into the mugs. Steam rose up from them and the small kitchen had become sweet with the kind of rich aroma that only hot chocolate can fill a room with. But my heart ached too much for me to take any pleasure in it.

I stared at the door, and had a fleeting wish for this moment to freeze, so that I might never have to go into that room and tell them what was killing me. I had tried to think of all the ways I could say it to them, all the ways I could make it easier. But right then and there, I knew that there never was, or is an easy way to tell your children you are dying. Hermione was around so much I cared for her as much a my own, and so I knew she too needed to know. She had spent many days during the summer out at our house. Those days were so different from how they were now, and the thought of them only made it more difficult. I hated to tell them on a day like this, but I had been making excuses since I had first heard the name Lethifold Syndrome. Each day that had passed I had told myself that it wasn't the day; too many things had happened. Draco had been pushed around again, Harry had had another lesson with Albus and was feeling blue, thinking too deeply, and worrying enough about his future without knowing mine. Then there was Hermione, who was too busy worrying about Harry and Draco. No. I had finally understood that there is no right day to tell the ones you love you are dying. You just have to do it. And today was the day for that. Saturday. They could sleep in. Cry if they needed, without fear of having anyone coming to bother them.

Why did this have to happen to me of all people? Everyone I knew had been through enough already. And now I had to put them through more, but if I didn't say anything, it would be even worse for them when I finally went.

I took a deep breath, and left the kitchen.

A few minutes later Hermione, Harry and Draco were sitting on the sofa, sipping their hot chocolate quietly, and looking at me with slightly puzzled expressions.

"I have something important to tell you three," I said from where I sat on a chair facing the sofa. I spoke before my throat could seize up. "I'm afraid it has little to do with what went on tonight, but with you all here ... and ... well, no time is a good time ... so I might as well tell you now. I need to tell all three of you, Hermione, you are very much a part of this family and have earned the right to know."

"Is something wrong?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, yes there is something wrong," I muttered, trying to meet their widening eyes. "Very wrong."

I was silent for a few moments, for I feared to speak those hateful words. But I had to, for them, for myself, for everyone I held dear. I owed it to them.

"You may have noticed that I haven't been " - I cleared my throat slightly - "entirely well as of late."

Tears started to flow down Hermione's cheeks as she pressed her hand to her mouth. For a moment our eyes met, and I knew she'd guessed it. Perhaps not precisely what illness, but she knew in a sense.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry anxiously.

His question was the worst to hear, for I knew he feared above all else that I would die, and leave him alone again.

"According to a healer, I have something called Lethifold Syndrome," I said as bravely as I could. I didn't sound brave to myself.

"I ... I've never heard of it," Hermione said with a slight sniffle. She looked surprised, but extremely worried at this realization.

"You would not have, it is not common in the least," I continued. Then I waited for someone to ask another question, for how could I even begin to know how to proceed?

"But, you'll get better, won't you?" asked Harry, and both Draco and Hermione were already fighting back tears, but Harry, blessed Harry. He was so full of hope, so full of childlike belief when it came to anything regarding me, that it broke my already torn heart clean in two to say what I needed to.

"No, no son," I said back, voice catching in my throat. I wished to take back the words I said when it hit him, and his face crumpled and he put his head down on his knees and cried.

We were all a mess, and had anyone walked in we wouldn't have cared anyway. I too could not look up, and my feet blurred in my eyes as three different hands tried to hang onto one of mine, all together, all at once. With bowed heads and hands joined we probably would have looked like we were praying, but I knew there was not a hope or a prayer left. It was done and final, zero survival rate. That was the only outcome. My luck had finally run out.

"How long?" whispered Hermione. Time, she was so concrete, she needed to know.

I told her in a whisper, and after I said so each of the hands tightened and the shoulders shook as the circle slowly grew tighter and I forgot whose hand was whose and whose arms were whose.

I didn't want this, I never wanted this. But then again, does anyone?

It seemed like years later when Minerva finally agreed to make an exception, and let Hermione sleep on the sofa in my quarters rather than in Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Draco slept in their room. Minerva didn't know what it was that had gotten them so upset, but I think she had guessed something was wrong, and they needed to feel safe and have me nearby. I told her that if she really needed to know, Albus could tell her, because I certainly was not telling another soul that night. That had been good enough for her, and for once I think she might just have stayed out of my business. She also reminded me that I had another animagus lesson tomorrow afternoon, but if I wasn't up to it or the kids needed me around she could reschedule it. I told her I would be there, and went to bed myself. Not that I could sleep of course. I wondered if I shouldn't just take a dreamless sleep like I had given the kids. The way things had been going I was sure they would cry themselves to sleep, and I couldn't stand how much they looked like they were hurting. It is difficult to stay composed when everyone around you isn't. But, I decided against the dreamless sleep, mainly because it didn't work so well for me anymore, and instead sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly out the frosted window.

Snow was falling, glittering gently among the dark patches of night. To me, right then, it seemed impossible that the world could still go on and do something as normal, as serene, as snow. But somehow, deep down, it comforted me to know that not everything had changed. That some things, could remain blessedly the same. After some time I felt my eyelids growing heavy, and then the snow seemed to fall slower and a warm kind of numbness fell over me. My head fell to the table. I jerked awake briefly, only to have my face almost hit the table again. Once more I jolted back to reality, but this time I caught a fleeting glimpse of someone sitting across from me at the table. My heart hammered. What I had seen was gone, but I knew that smile, and I knew that red hair, and most of all I knew those eyes. It had been Lily. I was wide awake suddenly, trying to decide if I had imagined her, if she had been part of a half dream, or if Lily had really been there. I didn't know, and I went to bed wondering, for I could not be certain of anything. Deep down within me I wondered. I wondered if she had come back to give me that reassuring smile, to tell me to keep walking through this world of glass, even though it seemed to be cracking beneath my feet.

What I would not have given in those days to be able to walk down a hallway without mayhem. As always I could not help but go over in my mind all the things I would gladly have thrown away for such peace when I saw a large crowd of students up ahead. I heard shouting, and wincing from people closest to the commotion.

"Out of my way or it will be detention for the lot of you!" I bellowed menacingly above the uproar. "I don't care where you go, get out of here!"

Students scattered, including numerous Gryffindors and Slytherins. I thought I saw Minerva's hat coming toward the scene from the opposite end of the corridor. As the students cleared I saw the source of the crowd, and immediately I had to fight the urge to curse heavily. The two students clearly hadn't heard me, for they were in the midst of kicking and punching and tussling on the ground, wands forgotten on the sidelines. Knowing words would not get through any teenage boy's thick skull in the midst of a battle such as this, I swept over to where they fought, and dragged Harry off of Goyle, his fists still swinging and trying to do more damage.

"Let ... ME ... GO" he growled as he tried to get to Goyle, who had gotten up and was now being held back by a very angry and surprisingly strong Minerva, who had indeed come to investigate around the same time as I had.

"Harry James Potter," I said dangerously in his ear. I didn't need even need to raise my voice, and suddenly he went pale and his quickly bruising eye and bloody lip stood out even more starkly.

"I can deal with Mr. Goyle," said Minerva to me, knowing full well that I would want to hear Harry's side of the story first.

"Fine, I am sure you will punish him fairly for this," I said dangerously quietly as I gripped the back of Harry's robe, though he was no longer struggling. "I shall consult with you later in regards to the ... other side of the story."

Harry gulped, and Minerva went around the corner with a pale and bloody nosed but mostly unhurt Goyle.

"Come," I said, leading Harry to the hospital wing, where I intended to take him first before I talked to him about the incident. He came quietly, and by the way he hung his head I could tell he felt dreadful. I paid no attention to the way his shoulders shook as he walked obediently beside me. Well, to tell the truth I pretended to pay no attention to this. I was furious, but felt like I too had been beaten and bruised by what had happened. I did not like it when he got himself into trouble.

When we arrived we had to wait a few minutes, for Poppy had gone to tend with Goyle when Minerva called, and Laura had come over from the Library to tend to Harry as Minerva had told her I would likely be bringing him up. It was easier that way, as Laura would otherwise need to come for supplies and then go find Goyle, rather than go directly like Poppy could. I wasn't complaining of this, however.

I sat outside the screen while she patched Harry up. I could hear her talking to him, and was a little glad there was someone to play good cop to my bad cop, that is, in the words of old muggle police dramas Lily and I had occasionally watched on drizzly days over our summers.

"There's no need to be so upset," Laura told him frankly. "You're alright. Calm down; you're making the bruise salve run. Do you want that black eye to last?"

"You don't understand, I don't care about bruises" I heard him whisper, my keen hearing paying off. "He's going to be so mad."

Laura's voice was soft, and low and I had to strain my ears to hear it. "I think worried is more the word."

"Maybe, but that's not going to stop him from being really ... disappointed." I heard a heavy sigh, and I wished I didn't have to say anything about the fight, but I knew I needed to.

"No, but he won't be that way forever," said Laura. "I promise."

"Thanks Miss Baldwin," said Harry gloomily, though gratefully.

"Anytime Harry," she said. "Good luck."

She came out from behind the screen, and I asked her how he was. I followed her over to a cabinet, where she busied herself with putting bruise balms and bottles away.

"He seems alright so far," she informed me, shelving the bottle of dittany. "He has a pretty good bump on the head so I want him to stay here for a little while, possibly the night, just to make sure he isn't feeling any adverse side effects. The effects of a concussion can sometimes be delayed. However, I don't want to give him anything if I don't have to, so it would probably be better just to monitor him for a while. Which means that if you're going to give him a talking to, I'd suggest you do it here. Luckily for you and him, the wing is empty today. I'll be in the office if you need something."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. I was about to retreat, but paused for a moment as she shut the cupboard door. "I have never known Harry to get into fistfights ... I hope this isn't something serious."

"Perhaps he just needs someone to listen to the injustices of a teenager's life," suggested Laura kindly. With her voice quieter, she continued. "Good luck ... I think you could use it too."

I nodded, and she retreated into her office, and I left to go to Harry's bed.

"How are you feeling?" I asked him, figuring I might as well start off with that.

"Fine," he insisted.

"I beg to differ," I told him, sitting down in the chair by the bed. "That was some fight you got into. You had better have a very good reason for getting into a fistfight like that." I looked at him sternly. "What happened? I want the full story now, mind you."

Harry looked at his hands, which had been cleaned of blood. A thin white scar stood out starkly, marking the spot where he had split the skin on Goyle's teeth.

"Well, I was just walking down the corridor," Harry began slowly, then paused to reach up to rub the bump on his head gingerly. "I was walking, and Goyle started throwing insults at me. He's gotten pretty brave as of late, and you know, most of it I could ignore. Then ..." Harry grew paler.

"Continue," I urged him on a little sharply.

"Then he ... he started to insult Draco. He said awful things. That made me pretty mad, but I tried to keep walking, and then he started on you. It was horrible."

"What kinds of things did he say?" I asked, curious.

"He said that you were a coward, that you didn't have the guts like his father," Harry said, swallowing thickly. "He was obviously referring to him being a Death Eater. I think I stopped walking at that point, and then he said that ... t-that he hoped that you would go off and die."

I inwardly cringed. "And then you punched him, didn't you?" I supplied. Harry nodded, but stopped quickly as it appeared to hurt his head.

"You're disappointed, aren't you?" The colour continued to drain from Harry's skin.

"That was an awful thing for him to say, especially given the circumstances," I began, "but you could have hurt yourself very badly by getting into a fight like that. I think that if anyone can be the better man and walk away, it's you. I know it's hard, and I am a hypocrite having started many fistfights in school, but you are not like I was. Given the circumstances I think you know what you did was wrong, and you know you must try not to repeat the mistake. For your punishment ... I would like an essay on ways you could respond differently if confronted with a similar encounter in the future. Do you understand?"

Harry's eyes were slightly unfocused, and he had a strange expression on his face, as though he really didn't hear much of what I had said.

"Harry?"

His eyes widened. "Dad, I'm gon-"

Before I was given a chance to move he threw up spectacularly on the hem of my cloak. My stomach lurched as well, and I vanished the mess with my wand and made Harry lie down. I grimaced down at my cloak. I could not vanish what he had gotten on it as I could run the risk of vanishing the material itself, which irked me. I walked over to Poppy and Laura's office feeling slightly ill. I told her what happened and she too agreed that Harry's bump to the head had caught up to him. She gave me a look of sympathy regarding the cloak, and went to go get some potions.

I returned, and Harry hiccupped slightly and closed his eyes.

"Sorry ‘bout your cloak Dad," he said hoarsely while Laura poured out a measure of dreamless sleep for him. It was kinder to heal head injuries in the patient's sleep.

"You are forgiven," I said calmly, even though I really wished nothing more to take my cloak off and toss it out a window, regardless of the fact that it was horribly cold in the hallways.

Laura handed him the potion and he drank it in two swallows.

As his eyes were closing Harry whispered, "Will you be here when I wake up?" The words were only for my ears, and I whispered back that I would be. He smiled a in a pained sort of way and relaxed into the pillow, fast asleep.

Laura too watched him sleep for a second, and then collected the glass. But before going to return the glass and potion bottle, she paused.

"If you give me your cloak I can send it straight down to be washed," she said to me. "It's no problem, and will save you walking through the halls like that."

"Thanks," I said, undoing the clasp and shrugging it off my shoulders. I handed it to her and she took it carefully. Our hands touched briefly, and my eyes met hers. She looked away as I wondered if she too had felt a shiver run up her spine.

"It's well into evening now, so he'll be out until morning at least," she informed me quickly. "It's my shift tomorrow, so I'll floo you if he wakes any earlier, if you would like of course."

"I would appreciate that," I said. "Thank you again." She nodded, and hurried away.

I sat next to Harry's bed for a while, but when I got up to leave I was taken by a sudden fit of coughing. Laura rushed out of the office, looking alarmed and still holding her quill in her hand from adding to Harry's file. I thought perhaps she may have believed that I had left already.

I recovered, stowing my handkerchief in my pocket, which now contained a few new blood stains.

"That cough is still bothering you, isn't it?" Laura said with concern. "Are you sure you don't want me to do a few spells? I might be able to find you a potion to help with it."

"It's been improving slowly," I said, my insides squirming from the lie. "I'm already taking something for it."

"I hope you feel better soon," she said sincerely. "If there's anything I can help you with, just let me know."

I nodded, wishing she could help me. For a second I thought she saw the pain in my eyes, but in an instant her expression was gone, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined it. We parted ways. I felt slightly uneasy, leaving Harry there in the hospital wing, though I knew that he was in good hands. I have been told this feeling in a parent is common, and for me it seemed to occur more frequently as days went by. I was very thankful for Harry, more than ever now. I was sorry for the fact that things were being made difficult for him, but I knew that in order to help him through it I needed to see what was good amongst the bad, and show him. I hoped that someday he would in fact be able to see these things, for despite all of the pain and suffering, I was thankful for all that I had, after years of taking things for granted. I suppose you only really realize just how much you have been given until you watch the world as you know it slowly slide away. In the silence that pressed in on my senses I walked through the corridors, not for the first time wondering how it was that after all those years with the best reasons to die, I now had the best reasons to live. Then again, doesn't one only see the audience when the shadow of the curtain is falling over the stage?

***

"How is your head?" I asked Harry the next morning as he ate his breakfast. Laura had taken the liberty to ask the house elves for an extra couple slices of toast for me so I could spend more time with Harry. I certainly appreciated it, and so did Harry.

"Better," he replied with spirit. "I feel great actually."

"Good, because after you finish your essay ... I have some frogs that need gutting," I said, straight faced.

The look on Harry's face at the mention of frogs made me break my composure and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yes, you are most certainly back to normal," I said. "I was joking, Harry. The essay is still your only punishment."

"Good," he replied, now rather amused. "Where's Draco?"

"He and Hermione are visiting the kittens down at Hagrid's."

"That's what they say, at least," Harry said with a light laugh before taking another bite of toast. It was his favourite catch phrase lately when on the subject of Hermione and Draco, because he knew it made me cringe, even if I knew very well they were in fact at Hagrid's and not doing anything they shouldn't be. Sometimes that boy's sense of humour could be quite alarming.

"One of these days you'll find your tongue in a jar in my office," I said as menacingly as I could. Harry raised an eyebrow, a move freakishly similar to my usual response to something ridiculous.

Damn.

"I miss the days when I could scare you with that," I remarked almost wistfully.

"See, the problem is that I know you just love the sound of my voice," Harry said, lying back and putting his arms behind his head before flashing an impish grin at me. "You live to hear my stupid comments."

"Something like that." I rolled my eyes, but could not conceal the half smile upon my face. "I daresay you will be well enough to go to classes today?"

"Miss Baldwin says I can," Harry replied cheerfully, picking a toast crumb off his shirt.

"Which reminds me ..." I muttered checking my watch and getting up. "I must be on my way. If you feel ill at all through the day come and tell me, although I have little doubt you're back into fine condition."

"Okay. See you Dad," Harry said, getting out of his bed and pulling on his socks, which he had taken from the pile of clothing Ron Weasley had brought down for him earlier.

"You know where I'll be," I said. "And take it easy.

"I know Dad. You too, okay?"

I promised I would, and left to go get ready for my first class.

I needed something to get my mind off of things. I hadn't had a chance to talk to Draco for a while, and I was a little bit worried about him. He had been blue lately, but then again we were all a little subdued. So, in order to distract myself I decided to go to the library and search through the new potions books that Laura had mentioned to me on the Hogsmeade trip. Somewhere in the back of my mind I also knew that Laura was not working in the hospital wing today and therefore would be helping Madam Pince. Alright, so perhaps I wouldn't have minded a conversation with her. I found her intriguing. Anyone who started out as a Curse-Breaker and ended up a Healer had to be interesting.

It was quiet in the Library, as expected. I wandered over to the potions section almost absent mindedly. There was indeed a few new volumes, and I perused them enthusiastically. My finger dragged along the spines, and no dust came off of them as with so many other rows of books in the library.

Way back in the potions section where I stood was quiet, very quiet, and yet it took some time for me to realize that a slow rumbling noise was taking over this quiet. I felt a gush of wind, and to my horror I saw a huge shadow pass over the shelves. Something was making its way to the front of the library. I could hear girls screaming and the library door banging against the stone wall as it was thrown open. I didn't see what it had been, but my heart raced anyway, though not as quickly as my thoughts.

Merlin, the school is under siege, the Dark Lord has come; that was him flying over. Damn, Hell, Bloody Hell ...

I couldn't see over the tall shelves to find out what it was and so I waved my wand, a row of volumes soaring out from their places and hovering to create a narrow staircase of books for me to go up. I heard screeching noise as I reached the top of the wide bookcase and looked around. I didn't see anything; I didn't see Him.

I turned around, and was immediately met by some sort of monster, which was careening toward me like a freight train. I gave an involuntary yelp as the face of a dragon stared me down, and I took a leap off the tall shelf, cushioning my landing with magic but still stumbling and falling onto my back. I stared in confusion (and a fair amount of relief) as I saw the beast soar over me. With great surprise I realized that it was made of books. A dragon made of books. This had to be some sort of prank, because while magical, the books in the Hogwarts library did not just get together and decide to form a giant beast to scare the daylights out of everyone. I knew a person capable of a prank like this. In fact, I knew two. I groaned, and went to climb back up onto the shelf, a new book staircase before me within seconds of waving my wand. I knew I had to get higher up, for I had no hope of vanquishing the beast from the ground, as it would be only too easy for it to sneak up on me or reign in terror from above. As I set foot on the top of the bookcase, a shadow began to eat up the light, growing nearer as the beast soared overhead. By now the library was almost completely empty. With no other targets in the room, it saw me with eyes of foil embellished books. The teeth clashed together, the spines of the books that formed them creating a strange clapping noise as it circled. It was taunting me, flying closer and closer to where I stood on the shelf. For one wild second I thought I recognized my old potions book in and amongst the volumes, but on second glance it was a later edition with similar tears on the spine. I was caught off guard, and wasn't looking where I should have been.

"Severus, watch out!" yelled a voice from down below as the tail swung forward. A heavy, enormous dictionary lay at the end of it. I hit the wood of the bookcase with a thump and my hands grabbed tightly to the sides of it as I lay belly down. The dust on the wood swirled up as the dictionary swung over my head. I felt my hair ruffle as the fluttering of pages travelled through my ears. Then I sprung up, careful not to fall as the back of the beast shrank and travelled to the other end of the high ceilinged library.

"Thanks Laura!" I shouted over to her as she ran through the main aisle between the shelves, blasting spells at the dragon of books.

The dragon reached the other end if the library and slammed up against the rafters, candelabra claws curling around them and holding it fast. It looked ready to spring.

"Irma is getting the remaining students out!"

"Maybe you should go too," I called back to her just before the dragon gave a loud roar, billows of dust blowing from its nostrils.

She let out an incredulous laugh as the dragon sprung forth and began to rocket through the air once more, pages flapping. "You'll have to try harder than that!"

In seconds she was up on top of the shelves too. The dragon grew closer and I prepared to make my move. With a whistling screech it was upon me, but instead of catching me up in its claws I leaped over to another bookcase, and it flew past. It was unable to turn so sharply and fought to keep its shuddering wings steady as it swung around as quickly as it could. I shot a finite at the dragon in hopes that it would put an end to whatever magic was holding it together. My action had no effect, but Laura shot some sort of blasting spell at the dragon, and it clipped the wing of the beast, making it lose altitude and crash toward a shelf. It landed there for just a moment, the shelf creaking and almost buckling under the weight, and then it pushed off back into the air. As it did so, the dragon was distracted by a pair of students at the end of the library where the door was. Irma was waving her arms and gesturing to the door, but they didn't pay attention as they were arguing too fiercely.

Draco looked up suddenly, and upon seeing the beast coming at them promptly tried to drag Harry toward the door. Harry saw it and clearly swore, raising his wand, but Madam Pince stood in his way, and then pushed both of the boys from the library. I let out a breath of relief. This relief was short lived however, for the dragon, with no target, turned on Laura. I shot another blasting curse at it and hit it in the side. It roared and was knocked off course, just in time. When it had swung back around it came at me instead this time, and now Laura shot a curse at it, hitting it in the wing. I suddenly understood what she was trying to do as it veered off course and hit the ground. It launched itself back up again, though rather unsteadily. Laura hadn't missed earlier; she was trying to ground it so we could fight it better. It was an easy target if we were up on shelves and it was down below with damaged wings. The dragon's wings had steadied once more, and it began to turn around. Laura tried to leap to another shelf to get a better shot at it, but didn't quite make it. I inhaled sharply as she slipped, the great shadow growing ever nearer. She managed to get her stomach on the shelf but her legs were dangling at the end of the case, where there were no ledges to push off of. The dragon rocketed toward her mercilessly.

"Oy!" I yelled brazenly, a sudden onset of courage making my voice louder, "over here you dusty bastard!" I sent a heavy book flying at the beast with magic, and it hit it square in the back of the head. It stopped going forward, and instead hovered for a few moments as it gave a couple of beats of its wings and looked around for the source of the book. I heard a few students scream from where they were watching through the half open door. They promptly shut it when the dragon sent a roar in their direction. I didn't pay much attention to this, for the dragon's gaze had found me. It bellowed and soared around, just as I sent a blast of magic at its left wing. Books went flying as the powerful burst of light connected, and the beast let out a screeching cry and veered left suddenly. It crashed into shelves, sending them flying. I hadn't anticipated that my spell would be that strong, and to my horror the shelves were toppling like dominoes toward the direction Laura was in. I didn't have a chance to raise my wand for the shudders that reverberated through the room, rocking my own shelf.

Laura had only just gotten up on the bookcase across the room when it fell. Books were flying in the air and the dragon lay in a heap upon the floor where the wreckage had begun, a harmless pile of books once more. I was down off the shelf faster than you could say Hogwarts. I sprinted across the library, stumbling over books, the world rushing by. I was coughing and wheezing but I didn't care. All I knew was that I couldn't live with being responsible for another death.

"LAURA!" I shouted between coughs, voice rough and cracking. I located her through magic. A fallen shelf lay across another, and I hastily pushed books aside. There was no way for me to lift the shelf with magic, for that would require all the other shelves to be lifted too and I could not perform a spell that powerful. Instead I pushed away books, and sure enough she was there, in between the shelf and the floor, in the crevice the two shelves had made, rather like a lean-to. She was huddled in a ball and her breathing was coming in gasps. Both our ragged breathing made a strange, unnerving song as I pulled her from under the shelf. She looked unhurt, much to my relief. My lungs were feeling less tight now, and my coughing had started to subside to the occasional small hack. I was glad to be on my knees, for waves of dizziness had begun to wash over me.

"Laura, are you alright?" I asked hesitantly as we sat by the shelves, in amongst the torn pages and scattered books. "Laura, can you hear me?"

She nodded, her breath still coming in gasps. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. Otherwise, she appeared to be alright

I looked at the small space between the book cases and the floor. Something clicked in my mind as I recalled the conversation over drinks in the Three Broomsticks, when Laura had been talking about why she had quit her job as a curse-breaker. "That and I almost died when a tomb collapsed."

"You're claustrophobic, aren't you?" I asked her. She nodded, gasping for air and blinking rapidly.

I sat with my back up against a fallen bookcase, her beside me and sitting up against the piled up bookcases too. I didn't know a whole lot about what I should do, but I remembered that when Lily was really upset or crying she had liked me to hold her hand. So I took Laura's hand, and she squeezed it hard. I sat with her until her breathing slowed. We remained in silence for a while, until she shakily broke it.

"It was so long ago but ... it was ... there was only a split second before everything just ... fell in."

"The tomb?"

"Yes," she muttered, voice trembling. "Some idiot went and took the wrong treasure. It was rigged, and set off a shock-wave that crumpled the supports. A huge rock just missed my head. My wand disappeared too. I was trapped for hours before they got me out. I don't remember much. I don't know ... maybe I'm overreacting but ever since then I just can't stand small spaces." She hiccupped slightly. She seemed to want to justify her fear, to show she wasn't weak.

"That is a good reason if I ever heard one," I said, squeezing her hand. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I didn't want to let go. She squeezed back. Rather hesitantly, I admitted, "I don't care for tight places much myself."

"Have you got a story behind that too?" she asked, seeming to read my mind, or at least the distasteful expression upon my face when I talked of small spaces.

"Yes," I said, grimacing. "It is a bit ... unbelievable."

"Tell my anyway."

"Alright," I replied, looking her in the eyes. I almost forgot what I was going to say for the rich colour, the emotion stirring behind them. Uncertainty, traces of fear, and perhaps a little bit more. But I pushed these thoughts away, and then I recalled my words quickly. I knew I could trust her, so I proceeded. "In case you didn't know, I used to spy on the Dark Lord for the light."

"Aunt Minerva mentioned it, actually," Laura said. "It explained a lot. I asked her why you are as jumpy as I am."

I nodded slightly. "The key word of course is that I was a spy," I replied thoughtfully. "Naturally, the Dark Lord was furious when he finally figured it out last summer, though he really didn't have a hell of a lot of proof anyway, but he was willing to risk it. I ended up buried about twelve feet underground in a sealed coffin, my wand snapped and arms tied behind my back."

Laura shuddered. "How did you breathe?"

"He wanted me alive for the next night, so they could ... have their revenge for my deceit. The Dark Lord charmed it so there was enough air, and only meant it to be a long and painful torture. Mostly torture of the mind, of course." I felt a slight shiver run down my spine as I recalled the terror. The feeling was snuffed quickly, for the calming warmth of Laura's hand had stopped it from grabbing hold as it usually did.

"How did you escape?" asked Laura, a look of pained understanding upon her face.

"Just as they were digging me up I managed to finish cutting the ropes on my hands with a nail sticking through the lid of the coffin. I would have gotten through the ropes earlier, but the exhaustion was almost unbearable. Once I was free I was able to get to my emergency portkey, which bypasses almost all wards. Something of Albus' invention. I ... I am very lucky."

She shook her head, a look on her face that showed of the amazement she felt.

"I think I hear someone coming," I muttered, finding it strange how disappointed my voice sounded. "We should probably go meet them. Are you alright now?"

"Yes," she whispered to me. "Thank you Severus."

"You're welcome."

"Will you swear you won't tell anyone about my claustrophobia?" she asked, imploring me.

"I won't tell anyone," I said to her. "I would appreciate if you did not speak of what I told you as well."

"It's a deal."

For a second we sat there, hands clasped. We smiled hesitantly at each other, and the more she smiled the more I wanted to. The spell was broken with the sound of running steps coming toward us, and it was only then we realized how close we were. Both of us shifted away, and then I stood up, offering a hand to Laura, which she accepted and I helped her to her feet. Harry, Draco and Albus breathed a sigh of relief when they saw us. Albus soon left to discuss the clean-up of the library with Laura and Madam Pince, who had skulked back in and looked ready to kill at the state of the library.

"Let me guess, you two had something to do with this?" I asked Harry and Draco sternly once the three others had departed.

The erupted into apologies and excuses.

"Draco, you speak first," I said, quite used to them talking over each other.

"Well, it was a dare," he said, biting his lip. "Only, it sort of went wrong."

"I never would have guessed," I replied scathingly.

"I dared Draco to turn his copy of A History of Magic into some sort of creature with a spell we found, but ... well ..." Harry said.

"Go on."

"We thought it meant only one book would be turned into something."

"Instead the whole shelf joined it, along with the rest in our book bags," muttered Draco, cringing.

"You could have killed someone," I said sharply, anger coursing through me. I let the words hang in the air for a moment before going on. "It was extremely stupid of you. Now tell me, what did you learn from this?"

"Dares are stupid?" Harry asked meekly.

"Always make sure to read up on a spell thoroughly before testing it?" Draco added.

Harry looked deep in thought. "Er, sometimes it's better to pass on a dare because it can cause more harm than good?"

"All of those are good lessons," I told them. "Well deducted. I merely wish you two would do your thinking before doing something like this, rather than after."

"You did do a thorough job, I'll give you that," Albus said to the boys, having joined us once again after inspecting the damage. "Might I suggest that as punishment they must help clean up the library?"

"I think that is fair," I said coolly. "And, you must return the books to their shelves, in their proper sections."

Both boys looked at their feet.

"Work begins now," I told them, looking to Albus, who nodded in agreement. "You must return every day until the library has been restored to its usual order. You will listen to whatever Madam Pince or Miss Baldwin have to say."

As I watched the boys drag their feet over to Madam Pince, Albus remarked how glad he was that nobody was hurt. I sighed wearily, and muttered that I didn't think that this was helping me get any better. He nodded in agreement. With a farewell, I made my way to the door. Laura was surveying the library from near the entrance, and caught my eye as I was about to exit.

She mouthed a thank you so that Harry wouldn't hear from where he was picking up books nearby. I nodded, consciously trying not to stare too long. I swept out of the door, and immediately I began to feel strangely as though something was missing. The ache in my chest returned, settling in like an unwanted house-guest. I wanted to tell her of it.

I was rather surprised to find Minerva standing outside my door in her tartan dressing gown, looking tired. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that it was about four in the morning.

"Well?" I said impatiently, blinking in the light of the torches in the corridor as she stood before me. I did not take kindly to being woken at such an hour.

"Does Harry have a history of sleepwalking?" she asked abruptly.

"I've never caught him at it, if that's what you mean," I said.

"Hmm."

I scowled heavily. "Are you going to tell my why you need to know now, or are you just going to stand there?"

"I found him sleepwalking through the corridors, obviously," she said scathingly. "I would expect you to put two and two together faster, Severus."

"It's four in the morning Minerva, so obviously my brain is still thinking of my bed." I frowned after a moment, actually comprehending what she had said earlier. "He was sleepwalking?"

"Yes," she said. "Goodness knows whether or not he's wandered about like this before."

"I'll have to ask him if he ever did that at the Dursleys'," I muttered. "Thank you for telling me Minerva."

"You don't suppose that stress is causing this?"

"Stress?"

"Well, Harry's seemed a little bit ... tense lately. Even more so than when Albus started those lessons with him." Minerva was looking at me oddly. "All three of you seem a little bit tense, come to think of it."

I opened my mouth and closed it, not sure what to reply. I felt my legs weaken, but not because of her statement, and more because I was growing steadily dizzier as I stood in the doorway.

Minerva looked at me pointedly.

"Just the general atmosphere, all the attacks. Everything that he knows he must do," I said softly after a moment's thought. "Draco's worried about Harry, as am I. It is difficult not to be."

"Alright then," Minerva told me, though I knew she suspected something more. I thought that she must be waiting for me to tell her, but right then I hadn't the strength. She continued once she saw that I had nothing left to say. "Sorry to bother you at this time, but I had to know. I'm very concerned for him too."

And she left, and I have to say I was very glad she did, for the dizziness continued to grow and my lungs were tight. She must have been greatly worried to come to see me at this time of night. Then again, weren't we all?

As I lay awake in bed, I wondered whether Harry's sudden sleepwalking had anything to do with me being ill. It was a great stress on both of the boys, who had lost their families before, and were in the process of losing part of a new one now.

"Lily, why now?" I moaned before rolling onto my side with a series of gut-wrenching coughs.

***

I was surprised when Draco knocked on the door of my classroom while I was doing a few spells to tidy up the area after morning classes. I had been expecting him to go straight to lunch, as he usually did. And, seeing as I had seen neither him nor Harry (whom I had wanted to talk with about the sleepwalking episode that had occurred the previous night) at breakfast, I had assumed he would be extra hungry. Instead, he looked rather put out as he stood in the doorway of my classroom. I told him he could come in, and he closed the door behind him. Something was wrong, that was for sure. He looked strangely dishevelled. Perhaps it was because he was growing again; much to my amazement when I looked at him I saw that his robes were a few inches above his ankle already. His pale face stood out starkly against the brightly coloured S.P.E.W. badge upon his chest, which seemed larger than any I had seen Hermione sporting. I wondered how she managed to convince him to wear one.

"Aren't you the protester as of late," I commented dryly, acknowledging the badge as I put away a box of ingredients.

"That's not why I'm wearing the badge, Dad," Draco said peevishly. I was caught off guard slightly by him calling me Dad, but he didn't appear to notice he had said it. So I let him go on, noting that I would have to think about that later.

"I'm sorry Draco. Tell me, what is the reason?"

He let out a shuddering breath, looking as though he might just be ready to break down. He unpinned the badge, revealing a Gryffindor crest.

"Why are you wearing Gryffindor robes?" I asked, bewildered. "Did the house elves sew the wrong crest on your new set?"

"They're Harry's," he said grouchily. "I woke up this morning and found all my clothes gone. I don't know what happened to them. They did it just to get to me, I'm sure of it. That and they probably thought I wasn't worthy of Slytherin colours after the Quidditch match. Not that I care!"

"Those little bastards," I said angrily. Draco looked simultaneously shocked and delighted that I had bequeathed such a name upon his tormentors. But the laughter from his eyes was gone quickly.

"Why didn't you come to me this morning?" I continued once I could think coherent thoughts.

"I woke up late," Draco admitted. "I sent a note to Harry to see if I could borrow a set of his robes. Hermione suggested the badge, so I wouldn't get beat up for having the wrong house colours. Mind you, after last Quidditch match I don't think a Gryffindor crest could make matters all that much worse." He smiled painfully. After a second however, he added quite cheerfully, "but I've been made an honorary lion by all of the Gryffindors. They practically love me now! Oh, and one of the first year Slytherins had the guts to stand up for a muggle born the other day too. See, some good did come of it." He swelled with pride.

"Well, at least there's that, then." I had suspected as much, seeing as the Gryffindors (besides Harry and Hermione, of course) had been treating him so well as of late, even going so far as waving him over to their house table at meals. "I will search the Slytherin common rooms now, and then call your dorm mates to a meeting in my office," I said, emphasizing the last few words for effect. "Stealing is not tolerated at Hogwarts, especially if it is as you suspect it to be, and not in fact a student in need doing the taking because they are too afraid to ask for assistance."

"Thanks," muttered Draco.

"You have transfiguration this afternoon, do you not?"

"Yes."

"I'll send Minerva a note if I can locate your things, so you can come down to put on your own robes. And you're welcome - so stop trying to thank me. Now go be a teenager and shovel down some food." He closed his mouth and quit trying to sneak a thank you in between my sentences, and despite everything Draco laughed at my comment, and with a smile he left the room. That boy amazed me sometimes. I wished I could have been that way as a teen, but I let things get to me too much. Draco was strong, stronger than they thought. Harry and I knew that, and I supposed Harry must be stronger than I thought too. We all were, when we needed to be.

Once I found them, I nearly shouted myself hoarse at the culprits who stole Draco's things. It turned out to be the whole lot that shared his dorm, but only Crabbe was too stupid to keep his mouth shut. I suspected they were very angry with him. Needless to say, I was quite glad that I found out who did it, as I really, really enjoyed shouting at them. I shouldn't have enjoyed it that much, but I did. Luckily they had only hidden all his things in various places around the school, and under many threats retrieved them for me. Draco was happy to have his robes back, and the Slytherins seemed temporarily cowed by the detentions and shouting.

I only wished I could solve Harry's sleepwalking problem so easily. I talked to him that evening about it.

"I sometimes would sleepwalk at the Dursleys' when I was little," Harry said to me over a cup of tea. "I used to get into so much trouble for it, because my magic would open the cupboard door and I'd end up walking around the house. I only really did it when I was really tired from being given a lot of work, and Aunt Petunia soon figured out how much was too much to give, until I got a little older."

"How young were you when you last remember doing it?" I asked curiously.

"Er, almost six I think?" Harry replied, stirring a bit more sugar into his tea.

"You haven't since?"

"Not that I know of." He shrugged his shoulders.

I hummed thoughtfully to myself. "Minerva said she thinks it might be stress."

Harry looked at me quizzically, as though asking me if I was talking about his problems to everyone.

"Minerva was the one that led you back to your bed. She tried to wake you, but you were too out of it. She informed me of it late last night. We are the only ones to know, I assure you."

"Oh," Harry said, looking relieved. "She thinks it's stress?"

"Yes, and I think she has a valid point." I sighed softly. I lowered my voice slightly and continued. "Do you think you could be sleepwalking because of what's happening to me?"

"I'm fine Dad, no really, I'm okay," Harry said defensively, though he sounded almost like he was pleading me to believe him.

"You don't have to be alright all the time, you know," I said gently, not wanting him to make the same mistake I had for years. You can only hold something in for so long, and that was a hard lesson for me to learn. "It's okay if you're a bit of a mess. You don't have to be so brave about it."

"If you're so composed why shouldn't I be?" I was given a defiant look. "I'm not scared, or anything, if that's what you mean."

I rubbed my temples. "You're not scared at all?"

"N-No," Harry said, voice trembling a little bit.

"Well, I'm scared," I muttered back to him, forcing myself to be honest with him. We would get nowhere if I was not. "I'm a mess sometimes. You don't have to be put together all the time."

Harry let out a quavering breath and said, "Alright, I'm scared too."

We both sat in silence for a moment or two.

"I think the sleepwalking thing was because of that," Harry admitted to me, voice so quiet it seemed as though he were afraid to break the silence.

"I'm worried you will hurt yourself," I said to him. "I was thinking it might be a good idea to lock your dormitory door at night, so you can't leave. That spiral staircase isn't easy to go down asleep."

"Dad?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"What's going to ... to happen to me and Draco, if ... if you -" Tears filled his eyes, and one escaped into his cold tea. It fell with a soft splash, the sound lost quickly in the dampened silence.

"I asked Black if he would take the both of you," I said quietly. "He says he will."

Harry looked a little comforted, but still a bit of a wreck.

"What do you think the chances are, of you ... you know."

"I don't know," I whispered back, hating the lie but hating the truth more. I feared the truth too much to speak it. "Not good."

"Can I stay here tonight, with you?" Harry asked abruptly. "There aren't any classes tomorrow."

I paused for a moment, and upon seeing his bloodshot eyes, the dark circles showing from beneath his glasses, I said yes.

He tried to smile, and then he laid his head on the table, looking out the little window to a grey, clouded sky. After sending Minerva a note informing her of Harry's whereabouts, I got my book and I sat down on the sofa. In a little while Harry came to join me, just sitting next to me and staring into the red and orange of the fire. Despite his best efforts, he soon fell asleep thanks to the pleasant heat, his head lolling over and eventually coming to a stop on my shoulder as he slumped sideways into me. I let him stay there for a long time, my book closed in my lap as I listened to his soft breathing. He was so big. Where was the little baby I had seen so long ago in the cot at the ruined cottage? Where was the little first year that I did not understand at the time, the boy I saw right through when he had arrived, scared and lost? Where was the little de-aged Harry, four years old, scared and skittish, but with Lily's sweet smile? Where was the skinny lad who had come with me to sign the adoption papers? Oh, that skinny boy was long gone in the physical sense. Harry was no longer a boy, even if he looked so much like one as he slept with his head against my shoulder. The reality was that every day he grew closer to being a man.

I had had to teach him to shave the other day. I made him, because that teen facial hair was horrendous. I smiled a little as I thought of how horrified he had been, having to get rid of it. He was proud of it, every bit as proud of his fuzzy, greasy mockery of a moustache as I had been at that age. But I had made him shave it off, and I was pretty sure everyone, save Harry, was thanking me. I had yet to do this with Draco however, who had little facial hair to speak of, much to his chagrin. I was not surprised, as Lucius had been the same way. He had done everything to speed the process, and still it wasn't until his early twenties that he could grow anything substantial that didn't look like some sort of fuzzy caterpillar died on his face. I recalled once, just to spite him, I had grown an impressive handlebar moustache and goatee, and needless to say he threatened to hex it off until I got rid of it.

Harry snored lightly in my ear, bringing me back to the present. I took his glasses off, which were hanging off his face sideways. I folded them and put them on the end table. I sighed a little, and put my arm around Harry's shoulders. He let out a little puff of breath and relaxed into me. I relished these moments, which came few and far between. However much I hated to admit it, I was a little annoyed I had missed the whole cuddly stage with my boys, as I had pretty much jumped straight to the teen years. Though admittedly, Draco and I had spent a fair amount of time together when he was young, so I didn't miss out on all of that. I sometimes found myself wishing for those limited number of days when Harry and Hermione had been de-aged and we would sit down and read a book. The warmth of their small sides pressed up against mine was comforting ... just to know that someone, however little, was beside me. Not that I'd ever admit this to anyone else. If anything like that got out, knowing my luck, I'd have crying first years coming to my door asking me to read to them because they missed their parents. The thought made me snicker lightly, but reminded me once again why I always made sure that everyone but those closest to me believed I abhorred physical contact. It was just easier.

It wasn't for a long time that I got up. I decided it would be kinder to Harry to just let him sleep on the sofa, and so I nudged his legs up onto the cushions and covered him with a blanket. He must not have slept well as of late, for he barely moved. Although, he did let out another small snore that sounded comically like a thank you. With a slight smile I stretched and made my way to my room to turn in as well.

Time was ticking, and the Christmas holidays were only two weeks away. I was greatly looking forward to them, because I was certain that some rest and relaxation would do me good. The dizzy spells were getting worse, and even as I climbed staircases I felt the world spinning. Unlike me however, Harry had been greatly restored by his weekend stay, and Monday morning he had even arrived at breakfast without the drained look he had been wearing lately. I knew that that wouldn't last for long, what with all that was upon our shoulders, but I was heartened to see him smile freely.

By now of course, breakfast seemed very far away, for it was in fact closer to dinner time. I leaned against the wall briefly and coughed into my handkerchief, looking forward to catching up with Albus. He had been busy as of late, off looking for something he could not tell me of. He had however, said to me that he needed to pay a visit to Horace Slughorn, and that he wished to bring Harry along some time. Apparently he had some sort of request for him, and as Horace was constantly itching to add some famous names to his contact list, Harry would help greatly. I did not know what the request was but Albus assured me that it was not trivial in the least, and that I needed to trust him on that. I continued on my way, legs growing weary and lungs growing tight as I traversed the corridors. I longed to reach Albus' office, and in my eagerness to see someone I could talk openly with, I didn't recognize the growing warnings as I began to fall further from alertness. As though the breath was stolen from me, barely a corridor from Albus' office, I was pulled into darkness. I didn't feel myself hit the floor.

I came to to find Albus looking down at me as I lay on his sofa.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I got trampled by a herd of hippogriffs," I said with a light moan once his far away voice reached my ears and I was able to speak.

He gave me a Pepper-Up and I downed it. It helped minimally.

"You've got to stop doing this Severus," Albus muttered. "Take it easy, don't push yourself."

"I don't usually faint," I said as defiantly as I could, though my whole body felt so tired. "I haven't been working that hard anyway."

"Yes you have," Albus said. "You keep pushing yourself to do what you normally would even though you know you are ill." He paused, and in a few moments added, "I worry about you."

"Albus, it's all I can do to ... to keep ..." I was unable to finish, but he understood me. He nodded his head.

"I know," he whispered back to me. "How are you doing, mentally, that is?" His question was gentle, and I could not help to say exactly what I was thinking with his blue eyes seemingly staring straight through my soul.

"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Everything I'll leave behind, everyone I'll leave behind ..." I closed my eyes briefly.

"Try to think, instead of those you are leaving behind, the ones you are joining."

I croaked, "Do I even belong where the good go?" The uncertainty echoed in my voice, the shadow of that old fear cropping up again. It always did in the end.

"Yes, yes you do."

A soft noise escaped my lips, having risen from deep within my heart, where I felt the real terror of my situation gripping me tightly. "I wish I could be that sure," I managed to say, travelling further toward the breaking point I had balanced in silence upon so finely these past few days.

Both Albus and I were barely able to keep it together, and we both sat there, shaking slightly for a moment or two. I knew then that words would never be enough to say how we felt.

"Just when you are given so much to be thankful for," whispered Albus, a single tear running down into his beard. "You never seem to be given the easy side of things, do you?"

"You don't deserve your lot either," I said, trying hard to keep my voice steady.

"That depends who you talk to," Albus muttered to me. "Besides, my predicament is of my own doing. Yours, is by chance."

"Albus, I'm terrified." It escaped my lips before I could stop it, and before I knew it the both of us were slowly falling to pieces. Neither of us could even feel ashamed of the tears creeping down our pale faces, for there is something about death that humbles a man, and turns him to a child once more, seeking reassurance. Albus and I, like any other somewhere deep down, were boys in the face of death. Just two boys in the clothing and shoes of men, hoping to whatever power that we could run into somebody's arms when we finally left this life.

***

Tuesday evening at dinner I was quite preoccupied, thinking about a lesson I had planned for the next day. I was surprised when Albus stood up to make an announcement. The buzz of the great hall calmed down. Minerva looked strangely devious, of all things.

"This year, we have come to a decision," Albus began, the students' eyes turned to him, "that in such dark times, something should be done to make them less so. Therefore, it has come to consensus among the staff," (Not that I had been informed, of course.) "that on Valentine 's Day this year there shall be a ball. This will give you all plenty of time to prepare what you are wearing and allow you to go home for Christmas as well, unlike a few years previous with the Yule Ball. Like the Yule Ball however, this occasion will be for fourth years and up. The remaining students will instead be able to take part in small celebrations planned to take place in their common rooms on February the fourteenth."

He sat down, and immediately talk erupted. Not only was I irritated I had not been informed, I was far from ecstatic at the news, along with quite a few others of the male population. Even a few more introverted girls looked a little bit dismayed as well. I wondered if Albus would have more to say during the staff meeting that night. Sure enough, he did.

"Teachers are asked to attend, except for those select few that will be patrolling the halls for supervision," Albus said from where he stood in the middle of the oblong arrangement of sofas and squashy chairs. The staff room was often arranged in this way for meetings.

I immediately volunteered for supervision.

"Oh no Severus, you had to miss out during the last ball. Besides, we already have enough supervision." A few of the staff snickered at the look on my face.

"What if I want to patrol the corridors instead?" I hissed. Many of the women chuckled. Hagrid looked at me sympathetically.

"He's just saying that because he can't dance," said Minerva with a laugh.

"I can dance," I growled. "I just don't like to. There's a difference." Though to tell the truth she was fairly correct and it would not be absurd to say that I had less rhythm than my cat.

"Well, prove it then," she said quietly, her voice only reaching my ears from her seat beside me in the staff room.

As soon as the meeting was done I left as quickly as possible, but found that even though I had cut through several corridors via tapestry, someone had caught up to me. It was Laura, and my heart leaped at the sight of her, for she had come out of nowhere, it seemed.

"Sorry about my Aunt, she has a bit of a sharp tongue sometimes," Laura told me apologetically.

"It's not your fault," I said. "That woman just knows how to push my buttons. You would think I'd be used to it by now."

"It's strange, because she treats you kind of like she treats my Uncle Roy. It's a little brother thing, I think."

"Really?" I said, surprised. I had not been aware Minerva had a younger brother. Well, that explains why she can be so damned pedantic.

"I can't believe we have to go to a ball," Laura said quite honestly. "I never liked dancing all that much."

"Neither, not really," I said. Well, I had always wanted to dance with Lily, but had never gotten a chance.

"And the worst part is that I can't get out of it either, saying that kids are sick and need my attention, because Poppy already agreed to look after the hospital wing. And Hell would freeze over before Irma would leave her cave to come to a ball and leave me to dust the library." She snickered a bit.

"Pince dressed up would be terrifying," I muttered, also amused. "She was here while we were at school, remember? Those awful nails she used to have too ..."

"Uug... they were so long!" Laura said, wincing. "She used to tap them on the books as she walked through aisles, remember that?

"Too well," I said with a grimace. "I got thrown out of the library a couple times thanks to James Potter and his gang, and those nails were horrible when they latched themselves onto your neck. Sometimes I think I've had more nightmares about her than the Dark Lord!" The both of us couldn't hold back our laughter. I stopped quickly, confused. I never talked about James Potter, and I never talked about the Dark Lord with anyone save Albus sometimes, and yet those things had come out of my mouth as easily as if I were talking about the weather.

"Well, see you," Laura said with a smile, turning toward a staircase to make her way up to the hospital wing. I said goodbye and continued to walk down to the dungeons. I felt mortified that I had mentioned my nightmares, which I still had frequently.

Mentally banging my head against the wall, I arrived at my quarters to find Harry outside my office. Well, I didn't find him immediately; he pulled off his invisibility cloak and nearly gave me a heart attack.

"You have to hide me for a little while!" he said urgently, voice hushed.

"Why?" I drawled, an eyebrow raised. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything, but ever since Dumbledore announced the ball at dinner girls have been flocking to me." Harry looked at me with wide eyes. "It's bloody terrifying actually."

"Language," I said pointedly, opening my office door with a tap of my wand and entering. Harry stood nervously in the corridor, glancing this way and that as though he expected Pansy Parkinson to come out of nowhere and club him over the head.

"Oh alright Mr. Popular," I said, rolling my eyes as I ushered him into my office and shut the door. "Let me just say that I for one would have sold my soul to have girls following me around when I was your age."

"They only like me now because I'm ‘the Chosen One'," Harry said with a frown. "They sure didn't when I was labelled a nut case." He sighed then added in an undertone, "One of the few girls that isn't sending me freaky love notes would be the one I want to ask."

"Really, and who is this fair maiden?" I asked jokingly, as Harry appeared not to realize that he had let the last part slip.

"Just ... you know, someone." He rubbed the back of his now quite red neck.

"You don't have to tell me," I said with a light chuckle, "I was just giving you a hard time."

"Are you going?" Harry asked curiously. "Or did you already find a good excuse not to?"

"You are observant, I'll give you that," I said, impressed. "I tried to volunteer to patrol corridors but Albus said they didn't need anyone else. I'm quite sure he was just trying to make me go. Might give him a good laugh I suppose."

"Why?"

"I'm a dreadful dancer," I said. "So don't ask me for lessons unless you want to know how to trip over your feet effectively."

Harry laughed at this and said, "Thanks Dad, but I already know how to do that."

"Well good, because it's difficult move to teach." I reached over and ruffled his hair fondly. He batted my hand away, but was amused nonetheless.

We talked for a few more minutes in my office, but it was getting pretty late.

"Well, Mr. Popular," -I looked at my watch - " I would suggest you high tail it back to your common room before curfew."

"Alright," he said rather unenthusiastically. "How the heck do I avoid them though? They're everywhere, girls I mean."

"There are many ways of making girls go away," I said, impersonating Albus' voice for the hell of it. "But the best way, my boy, would be to quit showering. A warning, however ... it will repel more than girls." Unable to keep a straight face any longer I returned to my usual way of speaking and said farewell.

Harry's goodbye was smothered with laughter, and I could hear him trying to stifle the noise under his cloak before I shut the door. I shook my head, chuckling, and pulled a stack of essays toward me.

I got to thinking one night when I could not sleep, about Lily and the prophecy. As I lay awake, tossing and turning and pounding my pillow into a more comfortable shape, I was reminded of just how much Harry needed to know what I had kept a secret for so long, for it concerned him deeply. Indeed, ever since that night up in the tower the thought of what I had done had lingered in the back of my mind, though for some time I had pretended it did not lurk there like a poison. But that poison was drawing nearer to the more vital parts of my existence, and Harry's, so how could I continue to keep such a secret? The time was coming for me to abandon my fear of rejection, and simply tell Harry of that night. It was something I had held close for so long, and yet for all we knew it could be the difference between Harry winning and losing the war. For, what if the Dark Lord sprung my secret on Harry during battle - that I had told him of the prophecy - just to take him off guard so he could fire that dreaded curse, and snuff out the life of the boy I had grown to love? Or even if Harry did find out about it under other circumstances, which he indubitably would, then who would remain to tell him why I did it? Only I could provide the real answers as to why. Not that any explanation could make my actions right of course. But I never wished for him to have to choose between hate and love. And so, whether I liked it or not, I knew that I needed to tell Harry.

      I had put it off; I had tried so hard to pretend it never happened. Oh, but how could I continue that charade, when we all knew Harry needed to know as much information as possible to even have a chance at survival? He knew it not, but the story of my greatest regret was slowly creeping up behind him as the days went on, and war loomed over us. If I did not tell him, from whom would he find out? Now that I knew I was pretty much on the way out the final door, I started to realize that I held a key within my hand. That key could lock one more door that made it possible for the Dark Lord to best Harry, and while I feared that Harry would reject me for what I had done, I valued his survival more than anything. So that was why, as the clock ticked and the moon fell further in the sky while the sun crept up on me, I started to work myself up to tell him, and try to find the words to say what I needed to so badly.

When the alarm rang I got up, determination making the fatigue in my bones leave. As I pulled on my clothes I noted that the weather was nice, that the sun was shining and the snow glistening. I formed a plan in my mind, and these things made me forget the worrisome ache in my lungs, but only because that ache had been replaced with worry.

As I dressed for the day I glanced in the old and cracked mirror standing in the corner of my bedroom, and was shocked at how thin I was. I put my hand over my ribs to see if it wasn't an illusion. It wasn't, and as my fingers counted each rib that was lying beneath a veil of pale skin, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. I pulled on my shirt and robes, and as I continued to examine my frame in the mirror I saw how loose my clothes were on me. They used to be quite form fitting, and now they were certainly not that at all. I had always been fairly light, never heavy, so to have grown even thinner was not good at all. Perhaps that was why I was always chilled as of late, for I had nothing to keep my bones from aching from the cold.

I had seen enough skeletons to last a lifetime, and so I grabbed an old sheet from my closet and threw it over the mirror, and swept out of the room as fast as I could.

***

"Put on that scarf and those mittens, we're going on a walk," I told Harry when he arrived mid-morning, having gotten my note. I already was dressed warmly, and Harry hurried to prepare for the cold too. He looked very curious, for I usually corrected papers on Sundays.

"Is something wrong?" he asked me.

"No, nothing has changed," I assured him as we started out of my quarters and down to the grounds. We opened the front doors of the castle a crack and walked out into the cold, sharp sunshine, the glittering snow making us blink. I had to avert my eyes from the light, for it it was simply too bright for me, what with my eyes being used to the dull dungeon light. We walked a little ways, heading down to the lake in silence.

We stood, looking out over the frozen water for a while. Harry looked as though he had figured out I had something important to say, and he waited in silence for me to begin. I needed to work myself up to telling him about the Prophecy, and so I began with the easier things that would lead into the truth, despite the fact that each little thing reminded me of the shadow on my heart.

"Your mother and I formally met when we were nine," I said casually. Harry immediately perked up. "She was courageous, funny, smart, and the only one I have ever considered to be my best friend."

"What did she like to do? Just everyday stuff, Mum I mean."

"Lily loved reading, and very much enjoyed her classes. Particularly Charms. She also liked to sew, as you probably know from that wonderful dinosaur she made you."

Harry blushed a little, but I paid no attention to that and concentrating on working myself up to the task.

"She was a morning person too, like you. I used to think she was crazy for waking so early." I sighed internally, closing my eyes for a second or two against the harsh sunshine.

"I take it you weren't one?"

"No. I was worse than Draco. If I didn't have anything to do, even up into my late twenties, I would sleep until two in the afternoon, sometimes three." I shook my head at myself, though my mind was elsewhere. "We were like night and day. Yet somehow we were friends."

"I know people like that; never would guess they could be friends if you don't see them together," Harry said, shrugging. He looked to me to continue.

"We did everything together for the longest time," I said wistfully, my heart sinking slightly. "We used to get toast or scones from the Great Hall and eat breakfast out on the grounds, or in an empty classroom just so we could have some peace and quiet without the social demographic of the houses. That started to change at the end of third year. So did a lot of things. We began to drift apart. She got more involved in clubs - ever the social butterfly - and I couldn't bring myself to join anything. Social settings terrified me then, they always seemed to mean exposure and pain for me. I still do not like large gatherings."

Harry did not respond, and I continued, needing to say things as much as my legs felt they needed to keep moving through the frozen landscape. If I stopped I'd never continue, and I knew he needed to know these things ... what led me to do it, what led me to betray her. I couldn't go on putting off the moment when he needed to know. The time for that was long gone, and a day was dawning where the risks of him not knowing couldn't be afforded.

"I started following around some of the older Slytherins shortly before exams in my third year. They included me for the first time, and I was delighted." I ran my hand through my hair, feeling my eyebrows furrow. "It took me a full two years to figure out that they only started being nice to me because they saw that I was the perfect kid to try and recruit as a Death Eater. Broken home, nearly broken spirit, barely any friends. By the time I figured it out, and truly saw what was going on, it was too late."

"Did you ever really want to join?" asked Harry hesitantly. I looked him in the eye.

"I ... I did, until I actually joined, and found out what it was really about. I didn't mind them trying to recruit me, because you see, when they were telling me about it at age fifteen I didn't quite realize the scope of things, and you wouldn't believe the things they left out. They made it sound noble ... like it was my duty, and like it would be a great big family who looked out for each other. I wanted to belong; I wanted safety. Being subject to my Father's empty bottle and drunken fists since he started drinking when I was just a little lad, it was my way of saving myself. I thought that if I had the Dark Lord's mark, I would scare off anyone who tried to pick a fight with me. So foolish." I felt my heart twist, and my guts wrench inside of me. "My father was a muggle anyway; I don't know why I thought it would scare him off.

"Lily didn't like that. Things were always black and white to her, for there was never a reason for her to turn to darkness. But those reasons I had been given many of. Our friendship - everything - fell apart after O.W.L.s, because I'd lashed out at her, and she had had it. She said she figured I was planning to be a Death Eater, and she was right too. She was mad that I wouldn't deny it, or even try to defend myself. I was too afraid to try to explain it to her. What if she didn't understand? What if she thought I was a coward? The others had been sowing seeds of mistrust inside me in regards to her, and they said that she could never understand. After so long I started to let fear get the better of me.

"How could I tell her how scared I was? While there were some things she probably could have understood if I just explained them to her, it is entirely true that at that time there were things Lily didn't understand, and frankly never would. Her family had food to eat every day, and her parents loved each other, her father had a job, her mother did not die and leave her to fend for herself. The only limits on her future were the ones she placed upon herself. Not like it was for kids like me. I couldn't afford the potion equipment to start up a business, and at that time the Ministry was being extremely careful in hiring people, and wouldn't take on anybody who had a background that could lead them to the Dark Lord. The discrimination was getting out of hand. Hushed stories started to crop up, of how people were turned away from jobs because of the Hogwarts house they came from, or because they lived in poor neighbourhoods and ‘high risk areas' where Death Eater activity was frequent. You have to understand that." I pleaded with Harry, my eyes seeking his. "Nobody would have hired a poor kid like me, and there was no way to hide that fact when a good pair of dress robes meant I would have to starve a week for them. That's mostly why I thought I needed to join ..."

"I had no idea it was so bad," Harry replied, eyes wide.

"Well, it was. Lots of times Mum couldn't even afford to send me shampoo at school, or toothpaste," I said bitterly. "And you wonder why they called me a slimy git. Try going to your head of house and telling him that, when he forever surrounds himself with well to do people and luxurious things. You would understand if you could meet Horace Slughorn. A poor boy was the least of his concerns."

We were silent for a moment.

"Can you at least begin to understand why I became a Death Eater? Why I followed around rich kids like Lucius Malfoy? I know I wasn't right, and that, I assure you, I realized as soon as I was bound to the Dark Lord."

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, but sincerely. "I understand. I know a lot about what it's like not to have much, thanks to the Dursleys. I don't think badly of you for it. You changed, that's the most important thing."

"But not quickly enough," I said, my voice sounding like a soft moan in the wind. "I did something horrible Harry, and I hope you can forgive me for it. I ... I should have told you from the start, but like what happened with Lily I was ... afraid I would lose you too."

"What is it?" asked Harry, worried.

I took a deep breath, willing my knees to stay still, and not tremble like they wanted to so badly.

"Remember earlier in the year when Albus told the both of us the prophecy that made the Dark Lord decide to go after your parents?"

"Yeah," said Harry warily.

"Someone overheard part of it ... and told the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord thought it meant Lily, and your family."

"Yeah, Dumbledore said that, what about it?"

I was starting to fall apart, as usual when I recalled that horrible memory, and I could feel my heart racing and my head spinning like it always did when I thought of what I had done. My voice seemed to have stopped working as I looked out over the frozen lake.

"Me, it was me," I croaked, hoping to whatever power that Harry wouldn't just disown me right there and then. "I was such an idiot; spying on Dumbledore was my initiation into His inner circle, and I had no idea who the prophecy meant, I only heard part ..." I was afraid to look at Harry, and so I could only look at the frozen horizon. "You don't have to forgive me if you don't want to; it was a horrible thing to do. I wish I could take it back, I really wish I could. I'd give it all, just to take it back so they could have lived."

He didn't speak, and as I tried to calm my breathing during that long silence, I feared the worse.

"If things have changed too much," I managed to stutter out, "you could live with Black instead, I wouldn't blame you ..."

"You're still an idiot, you know," spat Harry suddenly, sounding offended, and I froze. "I still want to live with you, you stupid bastard!"

The second line made me unfreeze, and my insides began to thaw. He couldn't be that angry then. I hoped.

"Really?"

"Yes."

I sighed with relief.

"That's why you looked like you wanted to faint when Dumbledore was talking about it, and telling us the rest." Harry looked as though something was starting to make sense, as though he was seeing the bigger picture.

I nodded.

"The guilt, it nearly killed me, still threatens to you know," I muttered to him, hoping that honesty would save me.

I heard Harry take a step away from me, along the icy lake shore - I still couldn't look him in the eye - and sounding confused he said, "I need to think, for a while."

I nodded, and so I left him to stand on the bank where he seemed to have frozen, and went up to my quarters to have a much needed drink. I sat there for a long time in a deep state of anxiety and misery, and even though I knew I had done what was right, I had to forcefully remind myself that in telling him I might have furthered Harry's chance of survival. But this did little to improve my spirits, for I knew that I would miss him until the day I died if he rejected me. What felt like an age later, Albus, who with his irritatingly knowing ways had seen us walking through his office window and somehow sensed something was wrong, popped through my floo. I didn't even jump at his appearance, for I continued to stare at the wall in a deeply depressed manner, and was so numb that I couldn't do anything of that sort. I probably wouldn't have cared if the Dark Lord had come through my door.

"He'll hate me, just you watch," I croaked to Albus as he sat down beside me at the table. He dragged my glass away from me, along with the bottle of firewhisky.

"What happened this time?" he asked a little bit tiredly.

"I told Harry about about the prophecy. He's off thinking now ..."

"He's more like Lily than you realize."

"Ah yes, and even she hated me in the end," I said weakly, letting my head fall to the table in despair.

"Stop that," said Albus sharply, grabbing my collar and dragging me upright. "Listen to what I'm saying."

I gave him a withering look and obeyed his command.

"Lily never hated you. It hurt her greatly to stop being your friend, she only pretended to hate you to keep from hurting herself,'' he said.

"And how would you know that?" I said dryly, resting my chin on my fist.

"You would not believe the number of times James - don't give me that look - came to order meetings without her because she was distraught from an article in the paper detailing an incident involving Death Eaters. He said that every time she read one of those articles, and he asked her why she was crying over it, she would say to him that she was afraid you had been there. It baffled him. She refused to let go of that image of the skinny little boy she was once friends with, but very few did know that, and James didn't for the longest time either." He glared at me, and I shrunk away a little bit, the fire behind his eyes both filling me with the desire to back away from him, and sudden hope upon realizing that he cared so much.

"Did Potter really tell you that?" I whispered, not daring to believe it.

"Yes; he had to give me that explanation many times," said Albus with a sigh. "She missed her best friend until the day she died, no matter what she liked to pretend."

I couldn't think of anything to say in response, partially because I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply waited for him to instead.

"She never hated you Severus. If I know Harry at all, he will not either. He just needs a little while to sort through his feelings. It was quite the shock, but he'll come around quicker than you think. You'll see."

I nodded, and he got up, patted my shoulder once and left through the floo, leaving me to my thoughts. It was only once he was gone that I noticed he had left a chocolate frog sitting in front of me. I shook my head. He knew me too well.

***

It was dark out, and I had fallen asleep on the sofa with a book, which I hadn't really read anything from but the same lines over again. I wondered what had woken me, and then I noticed that Harry had come into my quarters, as he knew the password. I mustn't have heard him knocking.

"Sorry I didn't come see you earlier," he said apologetically as I blinked and stretched.

"That's alright," I said to him, even though it had been agony. "You needed time to think."

"It wasn't right, but I don't hate you for it, I can't," Harry blurted as though it had been weighing on his chest as much as my fear that he would hate me had been upon mine. "I'm mad that you were that stupid to do that, but, it's not like you knew who it meant, and you changed ... you changed a lot."

"As soon as I found out he suspected Lily," I said, swallowing thickly. "That was the final straw."

We were silent for a moment, and then Harry said something I didn't quite expect. "You loved her, didn't you?"

I looked at him in shock, and he continued to stare into my eyes, across the dim room, which glowed with the embers of the fire.

"Yes, more than anything," I was able to mutter back. "How did you guess?"

"I don't know, it just fits, the way I've heard you talk about her sometimes, I guess," Harry said, sounding as though he wasn't quite sure how he knew. Harry looked at his watch and frowned. "I should go," he sighed, "It's almost curfew. Night Dad."

He gave me a tentative smile, and I returned it, wishing him goodnight before he quietly went out the door. Relief flooded over me, and while I knew this dark piece of my past would still take time for us to work through, the hardest part was over, for the splinter had been taken from the wound and all that was left was the healing. Things might be a little different for a little while, but in time it would be the same. This I knew, and how, I did not know, but I was brought peace. I hadn't realized how much tension that deep secret had been causing me up until now, but as I drifted into dreams I felt freer than I had in years. I never thought that I would feel truly glad I had told him.

The school was utter chaos, what with it being the last day before Christmas holidays. Harry and Draco had packed up their things and I had packed mine, and tomorrow we would head for the house. The students would be going by train in the morning, leaving us to depart at our own pace. There were a great number of things I had to accomplish before we could leave, and one of them was to go over to Hagrid's to see how Munkastrap was doing. I doubted he would want to leave his mate and litter of kittens, as magical cats actually raised their young as a team rather than the mother being the sole provider. It was something that was considered a product of a higher intelligence, for two providers guaranteed a higher survival rate for the offspring. Either way, I knew that Munk would be hard to drag away, but I at least wanted to say goodbye to him. Although it wasn't as though I never saw him these days, as he still came to visit me in my quarters occasionally via the magically concealed door that had been designed for pets to come and go; it was something of Minerva's invention, created a few years after she began teaching.

It was evening and already a thick layer of darkness was beginning to fall over the grounds. The wind was bitter cold, and the snow swirled around me as I pulled my scarf more tightly around my neck and thrust my gloved hands deep into my cloak pockets. Unfortunately my right hand stayed cold, thanks to a small hole in my pocket, which had come to be thanks to some explosive powder of Draco's which I had confiscated. It had given me quite a start when my pocket spontaneously burst into flame. Despite being a little bit irked over the hole, I payed little attention to it for the amount of snow I was trudging through with some difficulty. It was cold, wet, and quite deep. However, I was still thankful that the snow was not quite as deep as it had been the year Harry and Hermione were de-aged, as that would have been hell and a half to walk through. Still, I was very relieved when I saw the light shining faintly through the thick snow, and I began to walk faster. I was a little dizzy and my lungs were tight again, but this did not worry me as that was pretty much the norm these days.

Hagrid ushered me into his cabin , a flurry of snow blowing in with me. There were two mugs already on the table and waiting to be filled with tea. Thankful I had sent Hagrid a note prior to my visit, I unwound my scarf and thawed by the fire while Hagrid poured the tea. After he had sat down with his own cup of tea he told me all about the kittens, which he quite obviously adored. In the midst of our conversation Munk came over, and with a throaty purr rubbed against my legs. I bent down and gave him a good scratch behind the ears.

"I've missed you, you rascal," I said fondly, and he responded with a long and pleased yowl.

Munkastrap then pranced over to his mate and he curled up next to her, where he lay watching the kittens roll and play clumsily with a piece of yarn that had unravelled from an old sock of Hagrid's.

"Have you decided on a name for the female yet?" I asked.

"Buttercup," said Hagrid. "She's real nice fer a stray. Even Fang likes her."

I reached down slowly to stroke her head, and she closed her eyes, purring. Munkastrap was busy watching one of the kittens wrestle with his paw. He had that characteristic smirk of his upon his face.

"Well, it's official," I said after taking a sip of tea, " my cat's gone soft. That makes two of us."

"You haven' gone that soft Professor," said Hagrid.

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes in mild amusement. I stirred my tea thoughtfully, mind beginning to tread over to deeper water. "If at sixteen, someone told me what made me who I am now ... all the things that have happened ... I probably would have told them to go check themselves into St. Mungo's. "

"A lot happened ter me that I never woulda expected in my life," Hagrid replied, eyes deep and thoughtful. "I wouldn' change any of it, now. Not even the bad stuff."

"Why?" I asked curiously. "Surely there's been some mistake you wish you could ... change?"

"I used to wish, but not any more I don't. I've done some pretty bad things, but all of it I learned from. Even the bad things sometimes bring good."

"I suppose," I muttered, thinking of Lily. After a moment it started to occur to me that if I had never made that mistake with the prophecy I would never have gotten to know Harry so well, and never would have been given the chance at a family. That was a blessing, even if it came about through tragedy. While I knew I would always wish to change that dreadful mistake, I began to see what Hagrid was saying. Shutting some doors can sometimes open others. For, if Lily had never died I might have let myself be seduced by the darkness that always lay within me. I may not have ever opened my eyes enough to see it all for what it truly was.

"Yeh gotta let her go Severus," Hagrid said to me earnestly. "Lily's in a better place now."

"It's not as easy as it sounds," I said sharply, not surprised that he would bring Lily up. "I can't just forget her."

"Forget Lily, or forget what yeh did?"

"Well ... fifth year is hard to forget in a lot of ways ..."

"I'm not talking about what happened in yer fifth year."

His voice was soft, but it cut me like a knife and left me questioning how much he knew of my past. I looked at him, and for a second I knew my emotion showed through, but I quickly covered it with a mask of indifference. Sometimes I wondered if I was less difficult to read than I had always believed; little things like the phrase that Hagrid had just uttered, on occasion, made me question whether or not the Dark Lord's inability to discover my intentions over the years had a bit to do with with him being a dunce when it came to interpreting emotions, rather than being completely attributed to my occlumency and acting abilities.

"How do you ..."

"I don't," Hagrid said honestly. "But it's on your face from time to time, somethin' terrible. You always talk like yeh don't deserve nothin'. It just fits, see?"

I sat stock still, wondering how much Hagrid caught that others didn't. People did not give him enough credit.

"You don't need ter forget her," Hagrid said softly. "Yeh just gotta move on. Let her go."

"I know," I muttered finally.

We finished our tea in comfortable silence. Hagrid knew I was thinking, and he also knew I preferred not to talk unless I had to. I remembered coming to tea every once and a while with Lily, and Hagrid would tell us stories about giant spiders and centaurs and all manner of magical creatures. He was good to me then, and he still was good to me now; one of the few who treated me like I was really something, cared even. I had been too afraid to come to tea all that often as a student though, because the Slytherins didn't approve in the least. Now I wished I had, for Hagrid sometimes had the best advice, despite what others thought of his intelligence. Hagrid may not have had much of an education, but he had life experience - and sometimes, that is the best education one can receive.

I checked the clock on the mantle, and realized I should be going. I thanked Hagrid for the tea, and tried to somehow communicate to him without words the gratitude I felt for his advice. I didn't express such things easily, but I thought that Hagrid understood just how much it meant to me that someone remembered I was still mending a broken heart, even after all these years. It was then that I realized he most certainly knew more than he let on, and why shouldn't he? He had worked on these grounds for years, and seen generations of kids grow into adults and leave, many only to find their way back eventually, like I had.

"Take good care of Munk, will you?" I asked, feeling a little blue that I was leaving my cat behind.

"Yeh know I will," Hagrid said, smiling beneath his beard. I nodded, and walked out into the blistering cold, fingertips warm and face still glowing under my scarf from the heat of the cottage.

It was a long walk back, and a cold one. The snow had thickened, and I felt myself wishing to turn back to the warmth of Hagrid's hut, with the light still shining through the frosted windowpane. I made myself move on, even though my legs were already stiff with cold and my lungs ached. It wasn't until I had gone halfway up the hill that Hagrid's light disappeared completely, and the cold pressed in fully. The lack of oxygen getting into my tight lungs made me dizzy, and the snowy drifts rocked beneath my heavy feet as I dragged them forward, one at a time. There was nothing to do but keep going. I lowered my scarf and coughed red specks onto the snow. I thought wildly of Hansel and Gretel, leaving bread crumbs behind them so they might find their way back. The thought was taken from my head upon a strong gust of wind, which rippled my scarf around my face. Numbness settled in and my breath froze on my scarf, which I had to lower every so often to cough. It was all too familiar to me by now: the fatigue, the spinning, the fear.

I couldn't see the lights of the castle yet, and I continued to climb the steep hill up toward it, heavy feet slipping and sliding in the deep, wet snow. Finally I caught sight of the familiar twinkle, and I sighed in relief, though that sigh was quickly overtaken by a rattling cough. The dizziness grew subtly, until I realized that the distant windowpanes of the castle were spinning like mad fireflies. It occurred to me that I could barely breathe, and that my legs were shaking so badly that I was having great difficulty taking a step. I knew I was in trouble, but I didn't have the strength to think of a way to prevent this. It was then that I crumpled, and the cold drift became what felt to me like a shallow grave, as the snow turned black with the darkness that had gathered in my mind. The last thoughts I had were of the phrase not again, and finally of the parasitic numbness that was engulfing me.

***

An urgent voice was calling me. I knew I needed to wake up, but I didn't want to yet. I knew if I did it would hurt.

"Dad!" said the voice again. "You have to wake up, please!"

I knew that voice. It sounded familiar. Other voices tried to comfort the one who spoke to me, or at least that was what I thought. I felt a warm drop fall onto my face as the voice called out again. I opened my tired eyes, and as soon as they could focus I saw two boys standing over me, both looking terrified and blurry eyed.

"What happened?" I asked, brain feeling slow as once more the vague thought of not again floated through the surface of my mind. I was lying down in a bed, and there was a very thick layer of blankets upon me. My feet and hands, and parts of my face felt like they were burning, and they stung like a thousand needles had pierced them.

"You fainted out in the snow," said Poppy, gently guiding the boys (who were looking relieved but still a little worried) aside so she could examine me. I also saw Hagrid standing nearby, his thick overcoat sitting on a chair and making it appear as though some sort of ratty brown creature had taken up residence.

"How'd I get here?" I said slowly, for it hurt to move my tingling face.

"Hagrid found you lying in the snow," Poppy said. "He brought you up here."

"Yer wand fell outta yer pocket Professor, back at my hut," said Hagrid, gesturing to where it was on the bedside. " I followed yeh, so I could give it back."

I groaned slightly, recalling the hole in my pocket as I tried to move my arms, but Poppy quickly stopped me.

"Don't move," she said sharply. "You've frostbitten your hands and feet, and you had better keep them still until they're thoroughly warmed! Your face luckily has not been affected as greatly; you only froze it a little."

"Good, because we all know the only thing I have going for me is my looks," I said sarcastically.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Draco said with a shaky laugh as Harry tried to wipe his eyes on his sleeve without anyone noticing. I had scared them, that was for sure. Now that they knew what was happening to me, it made things like this so much worse. The incident of someone whom you know to be dying fainting in the snow is enough to inspire terror into any heart. Yet, amidst my sense of guilt for causing the boys such pain, I must admit, deep down I was a little bit elated that Harry was so concerned about me, which showed me that he still cared about me a great deal despite his new knowledge of my involvement in the prophecy. But, still, I hated worrying him so.

"I'm alright," I said to them, and both boys nodded, though all of us heard the unspoken words for now. We all knew the inevitable, we just couldn't speak it. Poppy knew now as well, for Albus had made me put it in my medical file. I hoped I wouldn't end up in the hospital wing while Laura was here, for I had the feeling she would not like the news either, and I didn't want to worry her for some reason. That, and I did not wish to break the fragile connection between us, that is, the delicate friendship we had so carefully created. And yet, despite my fears, a part of me did want to tell her ... wanted to spill my darkest secrets at her feet. I didn't understand it, but there were people who had that effect on me. My mother had been one, then Lily, and sometimes Albus, whom I had grown to trust over the years until the point that I greatly disliked keeping things from him. But really, what was the point in telling Laura anyway? For I now knew that I would not let myself get any closer to her than I already was, for how was that even fair, what with me having one foot out the door? My head felt muddled, and for a second I closed my eyes.

Despite their troublesome nature, the thoughts in my head did not last long for the sheer humility of having landed myself in the hospital wing again. The thought of Hagrid carrying me up here made my face burn more, and I hoped that nobody had seen. I hated it. I hated feeling weak. Most of all I hated when people worried about me, or worst of all ... pitied me. So naturally, anybody who can understand the hatred of such things can understand just as easily why I left as soon as possible, why I lied that I felt better sooner than I really was. I begged Poppy to let me return to my quarters for the night, and in a few hours she gave in. The boys had since departed to go to their beds, and the hospital wing was silent but for the click of Poppy's shoes against the hospital wing floor.

"You're scaring me Severus," she said to me quietly as I gingerly put my shoes on.

"You think this doesn't scare me more?" I hissed, words barely audible as I braved voicing my thoughts aloud.

"I would not be such a fool to think that," Poppy said. "After everything, all you've done ..." - She shook her head in disbelief - "it all comes to this, this deadly battle with so few weapons. I'm sorry Severus, I really am." She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief as I stared at the floor, unable to look at her for the turmoil within me. Merlin, why did they all have to say the same things? Yet every time those same words felt like a knife to the heart. "Have the Healers been able to give you anything that works?

I shook my head. They had sent a few potions, but they had done nothing. They were still at a loss, and after the last ineffective potion they had had to go back to square one.

"You were so young when I first met you," she said once she had quelled her shaking, "you've changed so much, and yet in some ways you haven't at all. I can still see that trembling little boy under it all, the one I met so many years ago. Or do I just imagine such things?"

I didn't say anything, and I forced my face to be expressionless, but Poppy knew the answer anyway. And she was right, for in such a situation one cannot help but feel like they are young again, and caught up in an elaborate game. And any moment the others, the ones loved and lost along the way, will come out from their hiding places too, laughing like it is all a big game, ready to let life continue as it used to be.

Of these things I pondered as I walked slowly and methodically through the corridors to my quarters. I was sure Harry and Draco felt that way too - like too many bad things had happened to them already, and so deep down it felt strangely as though this one would end up being nothing to worry about; something that would blow over like a bitter storm. Oh, but the truth is rarely easy to accept, and life cannot always work out the way we wish. That I knew. Life is complicated, broken and yet somehow beautiful, and the rays of hope - while not always - can easily be extinguished in a harsh breath. That was how life was for me then, and that is how life will be eternally, for all. Yet out of the ashes we rise, and sometimes it is not ourselves who are the ones to do so, but those who come after us. I knew Harry and Draco would move on eventually, but I didn't think I could reconcile the thought of me being gone from their lives. One seldom to never imagines what life would be without them in it: the tangled tapestry of a spider's web without the spinner, leaving new lines to be created, and old lines to be broken. Who will be caught up in it? Who will see the web, in the brightness of a new dawn, a new era, and find themselves inspired though the maker is long gone? Do such things last long enough for that to happen, without history books and paintings and legacies? What was my legacy? What was I here for ... what was I leaving behind?

I fell into bed and was asleep in an instant, my mind not even given a chance to cool down before I was plunged into restless dreams, filled with the eternal questions of who I was, and my purpose.

Harry bounced up and down on his toes excitedly as Albus and I discussed a few things before the boys and I departed for the house for Christmas holidays. Harry was clearly barely restraining himself from saying "Come on Dad, let's go!", but thankfully Draco was distracting him slightly, though he was just as excited by the look on his face.

"Now, I would suggest you check over the wards to make sure they're still alright," Albus reminded me. "They can be funny sometimes, and most wards require a quick run over once every couple of months, as holes can develop if you aren't careful."

"I know Albus," I assured him. "I'll make sure to do that, but I'm sure they'll be fine."

Albus went to respond but Harry couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Can we decorate a tree?" he blurted out excitedly.

Albus' eyes twinkled, and he smiled.

"Yes," I said to him before turning back to Albus. "Was there anything else you wanted to say?"

"I think that's all," he said, eyes twinkling. "I fear if I talk any longer the boys might explode with excitement. Say hello to Molly for me."

"I will. Have a good holiday Albus," I said, and he nodded his head and turned to leave us.

We were distracted by a loud bang and a puff of smoke as Harry's scarf burst into flames. Draco snickering behind him, put something into his pocket. I raised my eyebrow as Harry put his scarf out and rounded on Draco, who shrugged. I merely rolled my eyes and repaired Harry's scarf, and without a word confiscated the familiar explosive powder that Draco claimed he had been given by the Weasley twins.

I had to admit, only a slight bang was less than I had expected for our departure. We walked to the edge of the grounds, as I had decided to apparate the boys to the house. It was much easier to bring our things by apparation than by floo. That and travelling by fireplace floo these days made me feel like I had the stomach flu. Something to do with being dizzy already, I supposed. So, first I apparated to the house with each of the boys' suitcases and left them on the porch. Then I went back for Draco and my own suitcase, and then Harry. I was grateful that Hagrid watched over the boys for the short moments I was not there.

Once we were all at the house, the first thing I thought when I stood on the snowy porch with the boys and fumbled for the key to the house, was that it was bloody cold. The door opened with a throaty creak and Harry and Draco hurried to get in as I made a bee line for the fireplace. I threw in some wood from the box by the hearth and lit it swiftly with my wand. Immediately warmth rushed over the surfaces of the dusty furniture and met our cold faces.

"Why don't we sit in here for a while until the house warms up?" I suggested to the boys, who both nodded, their breath creating fog in the air.

"So, are we going to decorate a tree?" asked Harry excitedly once more.

"Why not," I said, checking my watch. "We can go out and look for one after we have something for lunch. There should be a few good trees by the stream." I had been hoping to arrive earlier, but things had been rather hectic and Albus had called an end of term staff meeting which took up quite a bit of time.

"We don't have any decorations though," Draco said as the heat from the fire continued to creep through the house.

"Some can be done with magic, but I do in fact have some Christmas ornaments," I said after a moment. Both the boys looked surprised. "They were my mother's. I'm pretty sure I have them saved in a box somewhere."

"So, when's lunch?" Draco asked to nobody's surprise.

"I'll start it now. Dobby was kind enough to send some fresh food here, and some soup we can heat up quickly."

"I love that elf," Draco said fondly, rubbing his stomach.

***

"Can we chop it down with an axe?" Harry asked when we stood in front of a small pine tree that we had found a few steps from the frozen creek. "It feels like cheating to use magic."

"I haven't got an axe," I said, laughing slightly. "Magic will have to do, cheating or not."

I told everyone to stand back and waved my wand. With a hollow cracking sound that echoed through the trees, a gouge appeared in the trunk of the tree. I hit it again with the spell and for a moment the tree swayed, its green branches quivering.

"Timber!" shouted Draco noisily as the tree toppled and fell into the snow with a rather unimpressive amount of noise for the quantity Draco had made; it was more of a soft thump.

He and Harry whooped a few times while I tied a rope to the tree trunk.

"There you go boys," I said in amusement, handing them the rope.

They both grabbed a hold of the rope enthusiastically, talking about how they would need to come down to go sliding on the frozen stream. I performed a levitation charm on the tree and the boys guided it home, I myself trailing behind them at my own pace.

"What took you so long Dad?" Harry said as I arrived, puffing, at the house. The boys were sitting on the porch swing, framed behind the icicles and wood that made up the snowy porch. The tree was tied, still floating, to the railing and was making an odd fluttering noise in the breeze.

"You're okay, right?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I just took my time to enjoy the scenery," I said, opening the door wide for the boys to float the tree in. We stood it up and secured it with magic. Harry and Draco were quivering with excitement when I left to go unearth my old Christmas ornaments from the shed, which was an odd combination of a Potions lab and storage area. I went past all the shelves of my potions equipment and over to the set of shelves at the back of the shed. The chilly air nipped at my fingers and toes and stole my breath away as I frantically skimmed over labels.

A wave of dizziness washed over me so I knelt instead, and from there I continued my search. I soon found the box, small and old, the wrinkled cardboard immediately bringing back memories of times long ago when I was young: when things were simpler, and when Tobias' drinking wasn't as much the problem it grew to be. He was different then, before he let fear warp him like so many before him.

A little boy that looked to be about three ran through narrow hall, his dark black hair flying out behind him as he laughed with glee. His mother held out her arms and he leaped into them, and she carried him up the attic stairs. The attic was very nearly empty save a few old boxes and a dusty cot and mobile.

"How many days ‘til Kistmas Mummy?" the little boy asked excitedly as he bounced in her arms.

"Just four more days, Severus," she said, smiling as she lifted a small box with her free arm and went down the stairs once more. She set Severus down and he ran giggling over to the stairs, and slid down them on his bum, his socked feet landing with a soft thump at the bottom of the stairs.

"Daddy, Daddy!" he cried as he ran across the sitting room.

A man was lying on his belly under the tree and fiddling with the Christmas tree stand. He wiggled out from under it, pine needles in his dark hair as he asked, "What?"

"Four days ‘til Kistmas!"

"No, really?" he asked, pretending to be surprised as he knelt on the floor by his son.

"Yeah!" shouted Severus.

"Well, go help your mother take out the decorations then."

The little box that had been set down on the floor was soon opened, and slowly the spindly tree was decorated with colourful baubles.

"Tobias, you wouldn't mind if I did a little tinsel with magic?" asked the mother hesitantly.

"Tinsel!" cried Severus jubilantly as he clapped his hands, though it was clear he hadn't any idea what tinsel was.

"Well ... fine, Eileen, just make it look normal, so the neighbors don't see it through the window and ask questions," Tobias said slowly. "You know what happened to that couple's daughter down the street. If anyone sees any magic in this house ... well ... I don't want to ever have anything like that happen to us."

Eileen nodded grimly but dismissed the thought and smiled as though she couldn't believe her luck. She drew her wand slowly and dragged it through the air, round and round the tree as Severus watched in wonder and Tobias stood by the shut curtains anxiously, hand tightly gripping his glass of eggnog, his fingers white.

I shook my head, and tried to clear my mind of the memory. That had been before Tobias started drinking a lot, before he found the poison that took away all of his worries. I preferred not to remember the Christmas that followed that one. I had never truly been able to forget about it, and that Christmas was the reason many of the decorations I remembered when I was very little never made it into the box I now held in my hands. Sadly it was one of my most vivid holiday memories. I sighed, and then started on my way back to the house. Despite the darkness of the past, I reminded myself that this was a new time, a new era. Christmas was a time of joy now, not sorrow, and most definitely not a reminder of what I had never had. Determined to make this Christmas like the ones I had always wished for, I returned to the sitting room, hands gripping tightly to the old cardboard box that felt ancient in my hands. Some of the decorations in it were older than I was, and I carefully took a scratched tin star in my hands, the one that had always sat atop our tree.

"The star goes last, right?" Harry asked as he looked over my shoulder at the star.

"Usually," I said, feeling my insides clench, knowing that Harry had never gotten to decorate a tree at his aunt and uncle's house. He had not gotten the chance to decorate a tree last year either, having been de-aged, and the only decoration I had ever kept in my quarters was a wreath. That, and the only trees taken from the forbidden forest every year were the twelve to go in the Great Hall, and the four for each of the common rooms, and that was due to the fact that Hogwarts had long ago decided to try to preserve as many trees as possible in the forest. Therefore, it was wreathes and holly for the rest of the castle, unless a tree was procured from somewhere else. Naturally it was no surprise to me that Harry was so excited to finally decorate a Christmas tree.

Draco, who had been fishing around in the box carefully, pulled an ornament out and examined it.

"Aww, Severus' first Christmas!" he crooned. I snatched the little picture frame from his hand, quickly covering the fuzzy black and white photo.

"Come on Dad, I want to see your baby picture," Harry said with a laugh. "Please?"

I sighed and handed it to Harry, who gave another snort and said, "Better make sure McGonagall doesn't see this one."

"And I forbid you to show her or inform her of it in any way," I said quickly as I thought of what Minerva would do. She'd probably make a copy of the picture and put it in the Prophet when I turned forty, along with birthday greetings. The last thing I needed was a bunch of Death Eaters huddling around the picture and having a right good laugh at me. I felt my stomach do a slight flip flop when I remembered that I wasn't supposed to make it to forty. I shoved this thought aside, and focused on the two boys before me.

"He didn't say he would," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Sometimes you are so paranoid."

"Just making sure," I muttered as I watched Harry string the ornament on the thick green branches.

There were a few interesting decorations in the box, but most were baubles with chipped paint, or bells in various colours. None of these were extravagant, though a few were nicer than others, and I recalled all of the ones that had been given to my Father by his parents, which were in fact the nice ones mentioned. The rest were shabby, and there was the occasional home-made one that I had helped my mother make. I even pulled out my mother's old spell and conjured some tinsel onto the tree. Last, but not least, I let Harry put up the star. Draco had agreed that he should do it, even though I knew very well he never got to do it at Malfoy Manor, where the house elves had done the decorating every year by Lucius and Narcissa's orders. But Draco looked happy anyway as he watched. I found it rather amusing too, for Harry grinned like an idiot as he set the star on top, his messy hair looking as spiky as the tree. Draco and I clapped in mock adoration.

"Bravo, bravo," Draco said in a pompous voice.

"Five points from Gryffindor Mr. Potter for putting the star on crooked," I added in my most disapproving voice, ultimately earning a hearty laugh from both of the boys.

The star really wasn't crooked though, and it was a very nice tree. There was no definite theme to it as most of the trees at Hogwarts had from year to year, but nonetheless its haphazard arrangement of ornaments looked nice. Though I had to admit, it did look like it was decorated by a couple of blokes. No feminine touch to be found.

"Hang on, we missed an ornament," Harry said rather curiously, tugging on a ribbon that was at the bottom of the box. A thin frosted glass oval slid out from under one of the bottom flaps of the cardboard, and he lifted it up for us to see.

I felt a sudden hatred rise in my throat, for the last time I had seen that ornament was when I was four, after which it had disappeared. I suspected my mother. I had always thought she had thrown it away, but perhaps she could not bear to part with it, even if its meaning was lost. Just like how he was, in so many ways.

I held out my hand, and Harry gulped and gave it to me, noticing the rather mutinous look on my face. I whipped out my wand, barely noticing that Harry and Draco flinched slightly. I tapped the frosted glass with a bit more force than strictly necessary, and then muttered a spell. I let out a deep breath as the words on the glass melted into a smooth surface once more, forever erasing the words Tobias and Eileen's first Christmas together. Harry edged nearer to look at what I was doing. I waved my wand again, and a flowing script carved itself into the glass.

"Better," I said calmly, feeling quite relieved. "His name does not belong near my mother's."

I hung the reworked ornament on the tree once again, only this time it said:

In Memory of Eileen Prince

May 12th 1939 - December 19th 1973

"Was he that bad?" Draco asked a little shyly.

"He was a piece of work, we'll leave it at that," I muttered, thinking of all the ways in which he should have been there for me. That stopped when he started drinking. Perhaps he tried to distance himself from us, simply out of fear of losing us. But I did not really know at all why he ended up the way he was. I didn't even pretend to understand, because I knew I never would.

"Thanks for not being like him," muttered Harry as he sunk down on the sofa, his words pulling me from my thoughts.

"And yet I see him every time I look in the mirror," I said a little bitterly before I could catch myself. I wished I had not said it.

"But you're not him," Draco said, as he joined me by the fireplace. "I look like Lucius, but I'll never be him."

I was surprised, and it took me a few seconds to reply, and when I did I said, "You're right. Wise words son."

Despite Draco never having known Tobias, I was heartened by his statement. Sometimes I saw a little too much of Tobias' brokenness in me. These days especially. But then again, any bad qualities were bound to remind me of my father, as he had possessed a great many. But Draco was right. After all these years you'd think I would have learned that I wasn't my father through and through, for despite an uncanny physical resemblance, I was Severus, not Tobias; just as Draco was not Lucius. Sometimes it was hard to keep myself from seeing him as I tried to find myself during dark days such as the ones I was going through now. The words Draco had just said marked the first time anyone had thought to tell me I wasn't like my father, and truly meant it, and that made my Christmas holidays already worthwhile.

    I was distracted from my thoughts by something rather amusing. As a reaction to my praise, Draco had swelled with pride, and after a moment he strutted over to the sofa with a rather smug look on his face. I fought to keep a straight face, because he looked precisely like one of the Malfoy peacocks showing off. I didn't mention this of course, for this thought also was driven for my mind, for as my eyes followed Draco I saw that Harry was no longer sitting on the sofa, and instead was standing by the tree. He was staring at the glass ornament with an odd look on his face. I paused for a second, and then, quietly as possible while both boys were not looking I reached down into the box of wood by the fireplace and took out a small piece of kindling. I set it on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, glanced one more time at Harry, whose back was turned, and then transfigured the piece of wood into a small glass disk like one on the tree. It was not as nice as the one my mother had crafted with her magic so many years ago, but it would do. I did the final spell, and then I summoned one of the small wire hooks left over in the box that had held the ornaments, and stuck it through the little hole in the glass.

"Harry," I said softly. He turned around quickly, surprised. I held out the little piece of glass, and curiously, he came over to where I was.

He adjusted his glasses and then read the small writing upon the glass, just like the one now on the tree.

As he read it silently, Harry's lips formed the shape of the words "In loving memory of Lily and James Potter". He looked surprised, but pleased upon reading his father's name too. He swallowed thickly, and I knew by the look on his face he had been thinking of exactly the thing I had guessed. He softly walked over to the tree to hang it gently on the branches of the evergreen. Then, we all stood back once more to admire the tree. Even though the baubles and the star on top were shining, Harry's face was shining far brighter.

Draco winked and covertly reached over to give me a silent high five behind Harry's back; I stifled a laugh. This was shaping up to be a good holiday indeed.

After we decorated the tree I set about giving the house a quick run through to make sure everything was in ship shape while the boys went outside to burn off some energy. Draco had mentioned sliding on the frozen stream, or something along those lines. I didn't mind so long as they were out of my hair for me to do what I needed to. The house was alright, and the only thing I really had to do was dust a few things and pull down all the bedding from the closets and put it on the beds. It had been an extra precaution to avoid mice making nests in things, for it was easier to heavily charm a closet than a whole room and just lay down a few traps here and there in places less easy to protect. Despite the fact that there were not a lot of chores to do, I was very displeased while doing them, mostly because the attic was freezing despite the fact that the fire had been going steadily downstairs for a long time. So, naturally, I was even more grateful than usual for magic as I spelled all of the bedding onto the mattresses of Harry and Draco's beds, for it meant I had to spend less time shivering. The cold made me cough bitterly, my breath condensing in the air until it rose in puffs. I retreated down the attic stairs, feet fumbling with the narrow steps as my vision blurred briefly. My clumsy feet slipped halfway down. Hands scrabbling at the walls, I slid over a few steps, my feet coming out from under me. Luckily I managed to land, perched awkwardly, on a step a little way from the bottom. I took a deep shuddering breath.

"Keep going Severus, you're fine," I whispered to myself after a moment or two.

I pushed myself to my feet with conviction, and I carefully continued on my way down. I eventually made it down to the kitchen to brew a cup of peppermint tea to calm my nerves. I curled up in the armchair by the fire, hands wrapped around the mug as I took a few deep breathes and relaxed into the soft chair, watching the flames dance over the coals. I closed my eyes.

"Severus?" asked a careful voice. I jumped slightly and my eyes snapped open. I immediately saw Molly Weasley's head sitting in the fire.

"Yes?" I asked, straightening myself in my armchair.

"Would the lot of you like to come by for tea?" Molly inquired cheerfully. "I daresay the boys are missing each other already, and I made a new kind of square. It turned out very well. The boys will love it."

"Sure," I said, thinking that the boys would indeed like to go. "What time?"

"Oh, in about an hour and a half, I'd say." She smiled and I nodded. "Arthur and I would love to catch up with you as well."

"Thank you Molly. We will see you later then," I said, and she disappeared with a slight pop and a "You're welcome."

I was grateful for her invitation, as I had been hoping to ask her if any of her children had been bullied before, and if there was anything I could do to make it easier for Draco, or stop it altogether. To tell the truth I found it rather nice that the Weasleys seemed to accept me, and Molly was always interested in what was happening in my life and how it was going with the boys. I felt very lucky, and it had taken me a while to realize she had always been willing to listen, even before all of this. I just hadn't seen it and hadn't allowed myself to get close to anyone. I relaxed back into my armchair, putting my empty mug on the floor beside me, and I soon fell asleep. I was always tired these days.

I was woken rather abruptly by Draco stumbling through the door, his hair dripping wet and sticking to his white cheeks, his lips blue. Harry came in quickly behind, and gave me an innocent look.

"What in Merlin's name did you do?" I asked, immediately alert. I stood up quickly and grabbed the thick blanket that rested across the back of the sofa.

"He was sliding on the ice, and it broke," Harry said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Y-y-yeah," Draco said sluggishly as I pulled off his mittens and his cloak before wrapping him tightly in the blanket and sitting him down in front of the fire.

"That was very foolish!" I scolded, heart hammering painfully with worry. "You didn't think to check the thickness of the ice?"

"N-No. I-it was f-fine until we went d-d-downstream." He said it as though checking the thickness of the ice was the most absurd thing one could possibly do before sliding on it.

"Stay here," I said. "Harry, make him something hot to drink."

Without hesitation I dashed up the stairs and turned on the faucet in the bathtub, waiting for the water to heat up as it ran over my fingers. Then I went back downstairs, shaking my head. Draco's hands were blue at the fingertips. I took them in my own and I rubbed them to get the blood to circulate.

"Must every one of your actions give me heart palpitations?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Draco tried to shrug but instead it came across as some sort of odd spasm, for he was shivering too badly. By the time I had shut off the running water in the bathtub Harry had returned from the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate for Draco. Draco had since warmed up a little, and was no longer quite so pale so I told him to go have a long bath and drink his hot chocolate, and to call me if something was wrong. He didn't protest, and went to do just that. Harry snickered a little at the whole situation, but one look from me and he stifled it, though he couldn't hide the slight twitch of his lips.

After some time I heard the bathtub draining, so I went upstairs and pulled a warm pair of flannel pyjama trousers and a long sleeved shirt from my suitcase, and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Draco?"

"Yes?" he called through the door.

"I had intended to give you these pyjamas on Christmas, but I think you are in greater need of them today," I said, unable to keep from sounding mildly amused.

"Thanks," said Draco gratefully as he reached around the door for them, which he had opened a crack. "Oooh, nice." I heard him say through the door. I had thought he would like them, as, of course, he had grown a ridiculous amount as of late and so all of his pyjamas were way too small. He was probably glad for a pair that fit.

When he finally emerged he settled down on the sofa with a warm blanket. I read my book while Harry and Draco played a game of exploding snap. After a while, I told them of Molly's invitation to tea. Harry was in immediately, though Draco looked reluctant.

"If you want to stay you can," I said. "You should be fine here, if you are alright with being on your own that is. I suspected you would probably want to stay."

"I don't feel like going outside again," Draco muttered, looking at the frosted windowpanes. "I think I'll stay. You two go ahead though, and say hello to everyone for me."

I nodded. "We'll be back in an hour or so then. You know where to find us if you need us."

Draco said goodbye to us and so Harry and I departed, making sure to lock the door behind us.

"You should have seen the look on his face Dad," Harry said, holding back a laugh as we walked to the edge of the wards.

"I'm sure he looked very pleased," I said sarcastically as we stopped just before the edge of the wards and I held out my arm. Harry grabbed it. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, and we stepped through the wards, and then I apparated, dragging us both through blackness until we materialized in front of the Burrow.

Ron Weasley ran out to meet Harry, going on about some crazy thing that Fred and George had made, as usual. They soon disappeared up the long staircase and I joined Molly and Arthur in the kitchen for tea. Arthur could not stay long however, as he had an evening shift with the Order.

It was a pleasant visit. Most of the talk was light, such as what all of the kids were up to these days. Both Arthur and Molly had some advice on bullies, as Percy had been made fun of frequently when he was a child. In short, they said that they really didn't think there was much more I could do besides continue to punish the students for what they were doing and make sure that Draco knew I was supporting him and that none of it was his fault. I appreciated her advice, and filed it away in my mind as we moved on to less pressing matters such as the mayhem of Fred and George. I had to admit it was rather amusing hearing Molly rant on about the twins and their joke shop. She was simultaneously impressed and mortified by it.

"Well, I could tell they were doing well," I said, grimacing, "seeing as strange new pranks are popping up all over the place. Somebody went and used a portable swamp up in Trelawney's tower. She droned on for days about the pranksters clouding her ‘seeing eye'." The last part I thought was pretty funny actually, in all honesty.

"I would not be surprised if Ron had a hand in that; you should have heard him go on about her the summer after his third year," Arthur said. "He was ready to start predicting her death, after all of those nasty predictions about Harry dying."

"As if Harry didn't have enough to worry about that year!" Molly said, looking highly disapproving of it all.

"That's just Sybill's way," I said rolling my eyes. "I am another person she enjoys predicting the cause of death for. Surprisingly, as of late she's been getting closer." I frowned, contemplating her last prediction that I would die of the black plague.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked suspiciously.

I froze. Now you've done it. I had forgotten they didn't know.

"It's a rather long story ..." I stirred my tea, trying both to deter them from asking while looking casual.

"Well, I'll have to wait to hear it then," said Arthur, checking his watch and getting up reluctantly. "Good to see you. Say hello to Draco for me."

"I will. Good luck," I said, wondering where Dumbledore wanted him stationed tonight.

Molly gave him a hug and kiss and as soon as she had waved him off she rounded on me.

"What is the meaning of this?" she hissed so suddenly I almost jumped. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well ..." I said, rather taken aback and feeling like a schoolboy caught skiving off a class. "Trelawney took a wild guess and predicted I was dying of the black plague."

"That's ridiculous. You aren't though, are you?"

"No, not ... really." I hastily took a gulp of my tea at the look on her face. I sighed, frowning. "The truth is, she was more right than she knew, even if she was miles off with the black plague, of all things."

Molly looked at me pointedly, worry etched on her face.

"I ... I'm dying of something else," I said hastily, my hands clasped together under the table to keep her from seeing them shake.

Molly gasped. "What?"

"Something called Lethifold Syndrome," I replied, not meaning to sound so depressed. "I probably won't make it past June, according to the healers."

"Do the boys know?" she asked predictably, sounding dazed.

"Yes, and that wasn't much of a picnic, I'll tell you."

I felt the numbness surround me as it had as of late. Sometimes it can be helpful not to have any emotion running through you; at least that was how depression made me feel often. By now I understood that the questions were always the same, the ones people asked when they found out. It made me grow weary. I was tired of having to tell people, of having people find out. Their looks never changed. Disbelieving, shocked, then despairing. Despite it all Molly was holding together admirably, and quite likely for my sake. I thought perhaps she sensed I'd had this conversation too often as of late. Yet I wished no longer to be at the Burrow; not after this. I checked my watch, surprised to see an hour had passed. I was glad, for that meant it would be easier to make a retreat. I simply did not know how to carry on after speaking of such topics. Talking of one's impeding death is a bit of a conversation killer, or so I had learned from experience.

"That's what you were telling Sirius, that night," she said softly.

I nodded.

"How are the boys taking it?"

"As well as can be expected," I said. "They're pretty shaken about it."

"How are you taking it?"

I laughed bitterly. "It's easier some days. But every time something starts to worsen you start to listen for death knocking on the door. I never expected to die slowly like this. I always thought the Dark Lord would do it. Should have known I wasn't that lucky."

"But you are Severus," Molly replied. "It won't be on his terms, it will be on yours."

I nodded. Perhaps she was right.

"Thank you for the tea Molly," I said. "I should be going."

"You're welcome," she said with a sad smile before glancing out the window into the back garden, where Harry, Ron and Ginny were now having a snowball fight. She sighed softly. "The kids look like they're having too much fun. I'll send Harry back when he's ready, if that's alright with you."

"He can stay. It's good to see him getting his mind off things."

"How have his lessons with Dumbledore been going?" asked Molly curiously as I pulled on my cloak.

"It's hard to know, but I think he's starting to truly understand just how dangerous a game he is fighting, that ... he might have to give what he never wanted to, just to have a chance at victory." I gazed out the window sorrowfully. "It's in his eyes, now and then."

"I wish we could do more." Molly wiped her eyes.

"I wish I could too ... Goodbye. Thank you for tea." I suddenly felt bad for how much of a damper I had put upon the day for Molly. I knew she had enough burdens to deal with already, let alone mine.

"Do take care of yourself," she said.

I promised her that I would as I opened the door. I stepped out and glanced over the hill in the direction of our house, eager to get home. But something made that pull increase exponentially, for what I saw above the snowy hilltop nearly made my heart stop. Molly let out a sharp gasp. Why now, of all times? I frantically thought to myself.

"Call Dumbledore, now!" I yelled as I ran to the edge of the wards to apparate, fear like I had never felt before electrifying my senses. I spun on the spot, but as blackness met my eyes the shining imprint of the dark mark remained in my mind, hovering like a ghost as my breath was sucked away. It was only then that I remembered that upon our return from the school I had not checked up on the wards to make sure they were as strong as they were when I had left them back in the summer. It had completely slipped my mind.

I arrived where the wards should have been and immediately saw the house, its protection gone. The Death Eaters would only have had to find a single, small crack in the enchantments to break them. This thought poisoned me with guilt and fear as the mark hovered sickeningly over the house, adding to the shadows created by the falling sun, which was throwing waves of red over the snow. I heard a crack and someone appeared on the roof, at very top where the two sides began to slope. It was Bellatrix and she had Draco around the middle with one arm, a knife held to his throat with the other. He shot me a look of pure terror, and relief flooded me at the sight of him alive, and then unholy terror once more. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't fire a spell for fear of hitting him, and there was no time to set up anything to stop her from apparating.

Without even time for a breath I tried something downright dangerous. I twisted on the spot and tried to apparate onto the roof as well. I landed with a dull thud and almost lost my balance because of the incline, but against all odds I managed to stay put where I had landed, crouched down. For a moment she was there before me, startled. My cold hands fumbled with my wand, and then she disapparated, taking my son far away from me and leaving nothing but two pairs of footprints on the snowy roof.

"No ... NO!"

A sharp, wheezing cough took a hold of me, the taste of blood filling my mouth as the crimson sunlight flooded my vision. I knew I had to stop coughing, for my position was unstable, but I could not and so the tremors that shook me made my feet shift. I started to slide on the icy roof, and suddenly I was scrabbling for something to hold onto. I slid down, down until I felt my feet go over the edge. Then I was watching the siding of the house go by as I fell through the air, terror coursing through me once more. I came to my senses only a moment before it was too late, and I apparated to the first place I thought of.

I landed in the sitting room, heart still fighting to free itself from my chest, my feet on solid ground once more. But I still felt like I was falling. Everything around me seemed to do so, even things built deep down inside me as I glanced around the room where Draco and I had last spoken. The fire was only coals, the pot of floo powder untouched. The blanket Draco had been curled up under when Harry and I left was on the floor, a ways from the sofa and close to the stairs. The front door was wide open and a few snowflakes drifted along the floor in the wind. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to, but I could see it all; how it happened. And it played inside my head like nightmares did when I awoke in a cold sweat. Draco, who had looked tired when we left, had fallen asleep, finally having gotten warm. The wards fell silently while he was sleeping, and she had been coming through the door when, at last, he  awoke. I walked over to the staircase and looked up, noting the blanket lying at the foot of it. Perhaps it caught on his pyjamas. Draco must have gotten up when he saw Bellatrix coming through the door, and then he ran to the stairs, for his only way would have been up. I took a glance at the marks on the wall by the door. He probably shot a few spells at her. He had defended himself, that was for sure. Halfway up the stairs there were pieces of broken brick. He had conjured up a wall between himself and her. She blasted it apart with her wand, and pursued him. Shaking, I went up the stairs. There was a skid on the wall where the small staircase to the attic was. He had gone up, and Bellatrix shot a spell after him, probably not missing by much. I passed the mark on the wall, and began my way up the attic stairs. The trapdoor was blasted off its hinges, the wood nowhere to be found, scorch marks around the edges. I rose up through it and into the attic, where Harry and Draco slept. It was a mess (more than usual, to be specific). The beds were overturned, and the feathers from the pillows strewn about. I found the remains of the wood trapdoor, and the pieces were half burned, as though the thing had literally been blown apart. Draco and Harry's trunks were off to the side of the trapdoor, parts of them scratched and burnt, though only just. Draco must have put them overtop the trapdoor, and naturally Bellatrix responded spectacularly. I caught sight of Draco's broomstick, on the ground below the round attic window, which had been smashed from the inside. The paint had been scratched off his broomstick at the top of the handle, and the window would have been just the right size for him to squeeze through. Draco had broken the window with the broom, intending to jump out to fly away.

"Clever boy," I muttered. He knew he could not best her in a duel. But his actions had been too late. She had come closer then. I bent down to pick up Draco's wand, which was lying on the floor nearby. I looked at his bed, pushed over and resting on its side, the sheets torn, a hole gouged out in the mattress. He had backed up and used it for cover, having propped it up on its side after he was disarmed. It looked like he had been just in time by the way the skid marks of the spell appeared upon the sheets. She must have cast the mark out the window at that point, for he was cornered and without a wand, and she knew I would come at the sight of the mark. Then she grabbed him, and as I appeared she apparated onto the roof, just to torture me further after seeing me arrive through the window.

I took a deep shuddering breath, and unable to stand anymore, I sunk to my knees, suddenly weak. It was then that I looked up, and saw something on the attic wall I had not seen before. It was a message, burnt into the wood.

The traitor's life for his

HE is waiting

There was an old newspaper clipping stuck to the wall beneath the message, and I did not even need to read it to know what it meant. The picture was enough, and immediately I knew where they took him. I could almost smell the smoke when I looked at the old picture of Malfoy Manor, its wreck smouldering like it had on that night, a year ago, when I pulled Draco out of the flames.

My eyes stayed glued to the message, to the picture, and the next thing I realized was that half the Order of the Phoenix had filed into the attic and was now standing around me, so big compared to how I felt there on the attic floor. But I could not even fully care; all I could do was try to breathe as I examined every inch of that message as though I hoped against all odds it was just another well executed prank of Draco's. But I knew Draco would never do this, and the Dark Lord knew what I would never do. Thus all that was left for me was to speed up the inevitable, and walk to my death. And that, He knew I would do.

Even after Albus returned from resetting the wards and making sure we were alone, it still felt to me like the room was spinning, even though I still sat in the middle of the attic, knees on the ground. I couldn't bring myself to move, and it was only when Alastor Moody came over and literally pulled me to my feet that I stood. Despite the whispers all around coming from the Order, I heard none of them, for it was as though the sound had been turned down. I saw many familiar faces. The members of the Order looked at me as though they weren't sure what to do. If they weren't going to act, then I was. With a strange determination, or perhaps more numbness than anything else, I walked to the trapdoor of the attic.

"Where are you going?" barked Moody. Ordinarily I would have jumped, but I was so out of it that I couldn't even do that.

"Turning myself in," I said sharply. Many in the room looked surprised, as though they would not expect me to trade my life for a boy's. I resented this.

"No, you will not," Moody replied, and I stopped walking. "Do you really think You Know Who is going to honour that?" He pointed to the message burnt into the wall. "Do you really think will let him go if you walk to your death?"

"It is worth a shot. He has no use of Draco; he is merely a bargaining chip," I replied acidly. "Besides, how else will he be rescued? Surely you haven't deluded yourselves into thinking that you can penetrate the Dark Lord's defences?"

"I think we're perfectly capable of a rescue mission," Tonks said, sounding rather riled up. "We aren't deluded, we're being realistic. We have some of the best minds on our team, and Albus on top of those. I think we have a hell of a chance."

There were quite a few agreements muttered throughout the room. Rage boiled up inside me, and I stalked toward her.

"Oh, so you think you know the Dark Lord better than I?" I said, dangerously softly.

Tonks looked like she was biting back a heavy retort, but decided against it and instead said, "I know the Order and its assets well. That's what I know."

"What's left of Malfoy Manor will be damn near impossible to get through," I spat, looking around the room to the sea of faces, adrenaline coursing through my veins and mixing with rage. "This is obviously a plot to get me within his reach, so that The Dark Lord can have his little revenge. Therefore, he will have taken into account that the Order will send a rescue party. He will have made the defences even stronger than usual, for if any of you get through, he knows I won't walk to him. He can't lose the bait, and he has been itching to torture me to death since my escape over the summer."

I could hear hushed murmuring in the room upon the mention of the Dark Lord wanting to torture me to death, and for some reason this made me extremely angry. Perhaps it was because I wasn't used to the concern. Perhaps it was the general disagreement to my underlying statement that I was probably the only one who could save him, given the circumstances.

"It does not matter anyway if I die by his hand," I said loudly, my voice taking on a light touch of insanity as I barely restrained myself from shouting. "Haven't you all heard? Merlin knows enough people mutter behind my back! I'm dying already. So why not? Why can't I go? I would do the same for Harry so I don't give a damn that everyone here thinks I shouldn't do so for Draco. Don't pretend you wouldn't throw me to the Dark Lord for Harry, just because everyone calls him the chosen one!"

I took a heaving breath, and was quite satisfied with the shocked expressions on everybody's faces. Minerva looked ready to cry, and for a second I wished I hadn't said any of that, for she hadn't known of my illness. I flinched badly when Albus put his hand on my shoulder.

"To all of you, we shall meet at Headquarters to discuss this further," Dumbledore said. "I shall be there shortly. Alastor, please begin the plans with all who are willing to help."

There was a general agreement, and people were sweeping out of the room, many trying not to stare at me. Nobody stopped to have a word with me, though I could tell many wanted to, but Albus was clearly giving them a look not to behind me. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and went to the broken window, relishing the bitter air that stung my cheeks like cold water. I fixed my eyes upon the few small, jagged pieces of glass that were still clinging to the edges of the frame.

"Severus ..." said Albus softly.

"I know - it's all my fault because I forgot to check the wards, so you do not have to tell me how much of a failure I am!" I shouted without really meaning to. At that point I had reverted to my old automatic response to pain and sadness. It was easier to yell at others than to cry. I cried very seldom, and like any man I liked to keep it that way.

"Accidents are part of life Severus," replied Albus. "I do not blame you for it. I promise we will do the best we can to rescue him. I know you don't believe we can, but can you please try to have faith in us?"

"How long do I have to give you?" I said, my voice like the broken shards of glass beneath my boots.

"Time enough for us to pull through for you," was his vague reply. "Don't hand yourself in; think of Harry."

"I know," I said with a sigh. "But ... he considers Draco his brother, and if I back away and say that I will not do what I need to bring him back, Harry will understand far less than if I do try to help Draco, because he knows I would do the same for him. If I don't help Draco, then Harry will be left wondering why, or even if I would go the extra mile to save him. It's ... complicated."

"I wouldn't dare pretend it isn't. But please, give us a chance to keep you all together," Albus muttered to me.

"Alright," I said with a sigh.

"Molly says you can stay at the Burrow a little while if you'd like. To stay here would be burdensome after such an event."

I paused for a moment. "I can't be here, not with his bed empty ..."

"Nor would I expect you to stay."

I was silent for a few moments, and then suddenly words were pouring out from my soul as I said, "I wish things could be simple for once. Couldn't the Dark Lord just leave me to die in peace?" Not try to tear my family apart ... Not try to destroy what we had so carefully built, especially as we had only been a family for a little under a year. There was a great divide in my life: the bleak time before Harry and Draco, and after. And while I wished that I did not need to create a divide in Harry and Draco's lives, I knew there would be a before Severus died, and an after. I just hoped I could avoid making that divide greater and more painful by handing myself in, and fulfilling the Dark Lord's plan. But sometimes you cannot have everything, and to save a life by giving mine would be consolation enough for me. What of the boys, however? Could they live with it? If I did not hand myself over could Harry and I live knowing that I might have saved Draco? And even so, how long would I prevail ... how long could I fight this illness? Trading lives is always a dangerous game, and this I knew well as a former Death Eater and a spy. You never do know what you or someone else will live to regret, nor can you see who will be the one to spark that regret in the soul of another. Just which pebble will be the one to shatter the windowpane cannot be known until it connects. I feared that I was throwing boulders.

"Someone needs to go tell Harry," said Albus softly. "Are you up to it?"

I nodded, though I hated to be the bearer of more bad news. Worse still, I would have to inform him of the circumstance; that I may have to leave him sooner. I prayed I would not need to go as I apparated to the Burrow, still numb with disbelief. But something in my heart told me that I would not be so fortunate.

"Draco's been taken by the Dark Lord," I said to Molly as calmly as I could when she ran out into the snow to meet me. I said under my breath when she reached me, "He is asking for me in return."

Molly was unable to speak, and I knew I confirmed what she had been hearing when she brought her hand to her mouth and tears began to slide down her cheeks. I shook my head as she opened her mouth, for no amount of sympathy in the world could make me feel better. She nodded.

"They're all in the kitchen," she whispered. "I haven't said anything to him yet. I didn't want to misinform him. You can take him upstairs to tell him if you wish. Fred and George are living above their shop for now, so if you would like you two can take their room for a while. I cannot believe it ... Albus wouldn't say what happened, he just said you might need to stay here a while. Thank Merlin Draco is still alive ..."

"At least we have that," I said softly, and I then went through the door. I found a happy gathering around the kitchen table. Harry, Ron and Ginny were sitting and drinking hot chocolate. Harry looked up to see me standing in the doorway, and he probably saw past my emotionless expression.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, eyes wide with worry behind his crooked glasses.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Molly says we can discuss it in Fred and George's room. She will inform you two." I nodded toward Ron and Ginny, who looked concerned.

"Alright," Harry said, putting his hot chocolate down and getting up to follow me, shooting his friends looks of worry.

Harry followed me quietly up the stairs, and I motioned him to sit on one of the empty beds as I shut the door and cast muffliato.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Harry asked shakily as I sat down next to him.

"I arrived at the house to find that Draco had been taken by Bellatrix Lestrange," I said as calmly as I could, and quickly, before I could lose the ability to speak. "He is in the hands of the Dark Lord right now. I couldn't ... I couldn't save him."

Harry's eyes filled with shock and he shook his head. "N-No ..."

"It's true," I muttered, deciding just then that I would not tell Harry of the possibility of having to hand myself over. It was too much for the moment, and only if I had to do so would I tell him. "I forgot to make sure the wards were flawless, and the Dark Lord thought to. I arrived a little too late. This - this is all my fault Harry."

"It was an accident, it isn't your fault," Harry said to me, and I could feel him trembling beside me, our sides just touching as we sat on the bed, which had some suspicious burn marks on the frame. It amazed me how forgiving he could be. I was still not that forgiving, and yet somehow a boy who had had so many wrongs done to him, was. "D-dad, what if ..."

"I refuse to ask myself that question," I replied, putting my arm tightly around Harry's shoulders to steady us both. "We must be strong now for Draco. The Order is working on it as we speak."

Harry nodded and looked down at his knees.

I don't know how long we sat like that, but the silence between us spoke of the kind of grief and uncertainty that runs too deep for words. The only thing that kept me from falling apart was sheer shock. When Harry finally looked up he tried to avoid my gaze so I wouldn't see the tears on the lenses of his glasses, but I took his glasses gently in my hand anyway, and dried them on the hem of my robe.

He did not thank me audibly, but his eyes said it all as I handed them back to him.

"Do you think you will be alright for now?" I asked.

"Alright, I guess," Harry replied, even though I knew he was hurting.

"Molly asked us if we would like to stay here for a few days until Draco is rescued," I told him. "Would you like that?"

He looked pensive for a moment. "Y-Yes."

"I thought so." I looked at my watch wearily. "Well, in that case, I suppose I should go get us a few things from the house." I needed to do something, anything to keep moving forward, to feel like I was getting us somewhere. Even if that was not far at all.

"I want to go with you," Harry said suddenly.

"No, I need you to stay here," I said firmly. "There was a fight, and I haven't had a chance to clean up the house yet. It's not easy to look at. The wards have been recalibrated. I will be fine, but I would prefer you didn't see the scene where it happened."

While reluctantly, he acquiesced and said he would stay. I wondered just how well Harry understood why I had told him he needed to stay. A part of me questioned whether or not he completely believed my excuses to keep him here, where I could be sure he was safe. It was what I needed to keep going. I had to know he wasn't going to disappear on me. I thought he might have understood it, and in some ways, wanting to come with me had probably been his way of saying that he didn't want to lose sight of me.

"Can I write Hermione about what happened?" Harry asked as I began to make my retreat.

"Yes. You could ask Molly if you could invite her over for a little while to tell her. She is connected to the floo network now, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said thoughtfully, voice still shaking. "Maybe it would be better to tell her in person. She'll have a lot of questions. She would want to know."

"She would. I will see you soon, alright?"

Harry nodded, and I made to go out the door, but Harry caught up to me before I could go and he threw himself into me and hugged me tightly. I was a little surprised, but I returned the hug.

"Promise you'll come back Dad?" he said, voice muffled as his pressed his face tightly to my shoulder.

"I promise," I said, and he let go to look me in the eye. My heart trembled at his height. He was almost as tall as me. When had that happened? I forced myself to take one last look at him, and then I went downstairs. Outside and to the edge of the wards at the Burrow I walked. Once I was far enough I apparated, the black feeling of suffocation all too familiar.

And when I entered through the front door of the house I didn't look at the Christmas tree, which appeared as though it were caught in a dream, untouched in all of the chaos around me. I didn't look at it as I passed and went up the stairs, for every thought inside me spoke of the fear that Draco too would become just another name etched in glass, resting on the soft green branches of yesterday.

Nobody in the Weasleys' sitting room had the heart to tell me to stop pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Everybody was fidgety due to lack of sleep. Last night had been brutal, and Harry and I had lain wide awake, tossing and turning in Fred and George's room, which we were going to share for a few days. I did have the opportunity to sleep in Percy's old room, but Harry seemed to fear I too would disappear. I thought that he suspected there was one little detail I was not mentioning, and I could not blame him for watching me closely. It was nights like this that I wished the Dark Lord had not cut off the connection of my Dark Mark from his own, for I knew not what he was feeling. Sometimes when he was experiencing an intense emotion, the mark used to tingle slightly so that I knew something was amiss. But it was safer this way. The mark, when it burned black, enabled the branded person to locate the meeting spot, and so it was dangerous for my or any other traitor's mark to remain magically connected. So faded it remained.

"Any news?" I asked immediately when Dumbledore finally returned, ready to give us the report for the day.

"None," he sighed, and my heart fell further into despair. "We have a great number of Order members stationed around Malfoy Manor, and while we are sure they are in there, we have been unable to penetrate their defences."

Molly and Arthur looked grim. There was a large bang as the precarious exploding snap card castle Harry, Ginny and Ron had been working on blew up in Harry's face.

"Oops, sorry," Harry said glumly to the other two as he put his shaking hand down.

"Whatever mate, we'll build a better one," Ron said sportingly.

"On second thought, I think I'd rather go to bed," Harry replied, even though it was only quarter to ten.

Everyone said goodnight, and I tried to communicate with my eyes that everything would be okay. I wasn't sure if he understood, for he continued on his way up the stairs, slowly and methodically conquering each step as though it were a mountain. Well, if he did get my message, he did not acknowledge it.

Later that night when I crept into the room to go to bed myself, the rest of the house quiet, I found Harry lying on his back, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

I did not say anything, for I knew that if he wished to speak, he would. Say something he did, and only once I was lying on my side and examining the moonbeams upon the floor did Harry say in a hushed voice, "I didn't even tell him how great of a brother he is. I never said it in front of him."

I did not say anything in reply, for I knew that it was a feeble statement for me to say that Harry could tell Draco that when he got back. Harry hadn't been expecting a reply, that much was obvious. So I closed my eyes.

I tried to escape from the world, just for a few hours. But peace cannot exist in a soul so filled with worry and fear. That night I had a horrible nightmare, where I arrived seconds too late, only to find Draco lying on the floor at Bellatrix's feet. James Potter had been laughing in the distance, and calling out to me that I deserved it, but then he had turned into Harry, who rushed over to me. I reached out for him, only to find it was nothing but the reflection of Harry in a mirror, and as my hand hit the surface he shattered into a thousand pieces before my eyes. Then I had tried to run to Draco's prone form, but before I could take two steps I was met by Bellatrix's knife as it soared into my chest. So I awoke, wide eyed, coughing, and wheezing in a cold sweat. I had experienced a very real flash of pain, and it felt as though my chest muscles had constricted as they would around a knife. I nearly fell out of bed upon my awakening, as my hands searched for something to steady myself. But I remembered where I was. While I stopped moving quickly, it took me a while to quit coughing. It seemed as though it would never end, and with each spot of blood added to the already stained handkerchief I imagined every way possible that they could be hurting Draco, even though I tried not to think about it. Eventually the coughing stopped, though I could not relax. I swung my feet out of the bed. Ignoring the sudden onset of vertigo, I caught a glimpse of Harry watching me, heavy bags under his eyes. He shut them quickly, and pretended to sleep. It was four-thirty in the morning, and while I was bitterly tired, it was not of the body, but of the heart. So I pulled my clothes toward me and got dressed. Sleep is always the last thing on a mind so full. 

"I am only going downstairs to the kitchen," I called softly to him before leaving the room to go make a cup of tea with plenty of honey to soothe my raw throat. I thought I heard a soft sigh of relief before I closed the door.

The stairs creaked as I slowly went down them, hand gripping the haphazardly attached railing. I passed a few bedrooms, and all of them had the doors closed. I noted with amusement the Holyhead Harpies poster attached to Ginny Weasley's door, along with a home-made plaque bearing her name and painted in the team's colours. Harry had mentioned she was a big fan of the Harpies, and on more than one occasion I wondered if it was she that he was sweet on. I had no doubt that a girl as enthusiastic and skilled at Quidditch as Ginny would be found attractive in Harry's eyes.

I found the kitchen to be empty, and that was what I had hoped for when I was venturing down the stairs. I craved to be alone, for I needed to think. Once it was ready I sipped my tea slowly, wondering how and why my life managed to get more and more complicated as the minutes slid away and the hourglass slowly emptied. I felt as though I had been given a deadline for a project, and I had to have it all in order and ready to be turned in on a due date I had not be told of. How can one have anything prepared for a deadline they do not know? When would my deadline be? When would my stubborn heart finally cease to beat? Would I even get a chance to tell everyone what I needed to tell them? With Draco in the clutches of the Dark Lord and the Order falling short of rescuing him, that deadline was getting closer. I think I knew even then, when I saw those words burnt into the wall; at that moment, deep down, I knew it was inevitable, that it was the only outcome. It was only just a matter of time before I would have to hand myself over. I would humour the Order until tonight, but after the meeting at Grimmauld Place, I kept no promises but the one I made with myself to save either of my sons, no matter the cost. It was something everyone else needed to understand, but I knew that precious little time was to be wasted, and so Harry was the one that I would spend time explaining myself to. I owed him this. He needed to know I wasn't abandoning him, that I had no other choice and that this was the better option, for my days were numbered. He needed to see I would do the very same for him.

***

My mind was made up for me shortly after I walked into the meeting, the sun long fallen outside in the street.  The downcast expressions said it all. Everything passed in a haze, like the nightmare from last night, only I was not waking up from this one. Nobody could meet my eyes, except Black, who for once looked at me in a way that showed he shared my pain. But this was no comfort to me; nothing was. My resilient heart was hammering too hard beneath my rib cage for me to care. I barely listened to Dumbledore announcing who was on guard duty tonight and which Aurors were to be working on breaking the wards. Arthur was the first to leave to take his position. Shortly after, Black shot me one last look as he went to see Lupin off, who was headed to take his post as well, far from the edges of the burned Manor that had once been the home of the boy now imprisoned there. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody filed out of the room. Even the best were not enough, and this I knew, for the Dark Lord's enchantments I had seen firsthand, and even with my information they had still not succeeded. How had it come to this? How had life passed me by so quickly? I felt that in a sense I had barely begun to live.

It was with a pained determination that I returned to the silent Burrow. I walked through the doorway, and crept up the stairs, noting that all the bedrooms were silent once more. It was quarter to twelve. All the doors were closed and nobody could be heard moving about. I was glad to return on my own. I was glad that Arthur was on duty, and that Molly had stayed behind to make sure the kids were alright. I did not wish to speak with them right now. I felt muddled, and as I entered the room that Harry and I were staying in I wondered what he would do without me. As I pondered this I gazed upon him. Harry was asleep, and it seemed as though I had seen more of him this way than awake as of late. I watched his chest rise and fall as his breath softly flowed from within him. Slowly, ever so slowly I crept closer, until I was kneeling at his bedside. I noted with a slight twist of my heart he had his cheek resting up against the ratty old dinosaur Lily had sewn for him when he was a baby. Rexy, he called him, and he still couldn't sleep without him despite the fact that he was sixteen and thought he was practically a grown-up. It was all he had left of his mother, after all. And Harry was all I had left of my beloved Lily. It was at that moment that I wondered if I should just stay - if I should just hope the Order did their job. But then I thought of Draco, and how he should be here too, and my mind was decided. I let out a soft sigh, and I gently put my hand on Harry's shoulder to wake him. He opened his eyes, which were glassy with fatigue.

"Did they bring him back?" Harry whispered to me, more asleep than awake.

"No," I forced myself to say. "I need to go after him. I'm his only chance. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, sitting up as his eyes filled with tears, even though he looked to be trying so hard to keep it together.

"I would do the same for you," I said to him, feeling far away. "I'm not abandoning you. I will be gone soon anyway if I do not go, and the guilt will only make my health go faster. This is the best option. He has more time left than I. Even if I do not go you will be alone eventually."

"I know D-Dad. But I wish you didn't have to." We sat like that for a moment. Harry took in a shuddering breath, and unable to stop himself anymore he fell into my arms, shaking. I held him close to me, and it felt like an eternity as he gripped me tightly. I didn't know who was holding on the hardest; I wasn't sure who wished the most that we would never have to let go of each other.

"I'm sorry son," I said into his ear. "You know I must."

"This is the last time I'll see you, isn't it?" he choked..

There was no point in lying. There was no point in pretending. "Yes," I whispered to him shakily, for in my heart I knew it to be true. "I'll be with you even when I am gone," I said with as much strength as I could muster amidst all the uncertainty.

"Promise you will be?"

"I promise. I'll be there, always."

I hated to make him let go of me, but I knew that if I stayed any longer I would never be able to stop holding him there. If I didn't let go ... if I didn't pull away, Draco would die under the wretched gaze of the Dark Lord. I broke the embrace, but I held Harry's tear-stained face in my hands, and like so many times before it struck me how much he still looked like a boy.

"B-Bye Dad ... I love you," choked Harry, barely able to speak.

I pulled from my robe pocket a phial of dreamless sleep potion, and I pulled Harry tightly into my arms once more, just for a moment, just one last time.

"I love you too," I said, for once my voice not gruff, for there was no sense in acting as though I did not. It would be foolish to act tough in a moment like this, and I knew I would positively hate myself if I did not say it to him now. "Someday I will see you on the other side." And then I made him drink the potion, and he fell limp into my arms and I laid him down on the bed and covered him up, pulling an envelope from my pocket addressed to him, for him to open and read all the words I could not say, so that he could have something to hold onto from me. I had Draco's in my pocket. Then I left the room before I could run back to him, and I made myself walk down that flight of stairs that felt longer than any staircase had in all of my life. There was one last thing to do, and I walked into the kitchen and to the table. To my surprise I saw Molly standing there, crying.

"I won't stop you," she said, eyes red and full of unspoken things that told me she would do the same for her children if it came down to it. She looked to me for confirmation of what I was going to do.

I couldn't say anything, but spoken words would not have been enough. So I pulled a thick envelope from my pocket, upon it an elegant script. I set it on the table with shaking hands, and wearing a look on my face that I knew was breaking her heart I left the room, trying to clear my mind as I went. Behind me, as I walked out into the snow, I could hear her sobbing as she stared at the ink upon the envelope, coldly spelling out The Last Will and Testament of Severus Tobias Snape.

I appeared a ways from Malfoy Manor. I quickly entered the large belt of trees that surrounded it on either side. Through these trees I carefully walked, and after some time I saw Lupin standing guard in the bushes, glancing back and forth. I swore internally, and took a detour to the side. It wouldn't do for him to see me. Slowly I continued. Suddenly I felt the tingling sensation of my foot going through the wards. Much to my surprise it appeared that they had keyed them in for me to enter. I took another step, and was through the wards. When I paused to think about it, it was far easier this way, and much less dangerous for them. Nobody would have to risk their lives to come out and get me, or do any extra spells to allow me passage and possibly a short window of opportunity for the Order. I wished there was a way for me to break the wards from the inside, but I knew there was no way for me to do so, for the Dark Lord's wards I knew to be made so that only he could access them. Many wards were like that; the ones that surrounded my home were only accessible to Dumbledore or myself should they need to be changed. Knowing that it was my only choice, I continued on my journey, mind travelling elsewhere as the trees became fewer.

       Now that I was through the wards and the trees were not so thick I could see Malfoy Manor. The great ruined building loomed overhead like a ghost from another life. I ignored the shiver running down my spine as the moonlight hit the blackened stones and gaping windows. Those empty windows seemed to gaze into my soul, to ask me why I was here tonight. To ask me if I was ready for this. But I shook my head at such thoughts, and closed myself off to what was making my insides ache - the harsh reality that I was not ready to die. I circled around the edges of the property. In time I found the gates, which were open and waiting for me to enter, for with a deactivated Dark Mark I would not be allowed to go through the usual way. I took a deep breath, and as soon as I stepped through the gates they clashed shut behind me. The sharp noise rang out painfully in the silence. I stopped for a second to look back, and I saw Lupin looking in this direction from the bushes, for he had heard the noise, even if he could not see the manor. I forced myself to turn, and with the death knell pounding inside me I made my feet move, each step bringing me closer to Malfoy Manor.

     I pressed my hand up against the pocket that held Draco's letter. I needed to get it to him, but I knew that neither his nor Harry's letter said everything. But how could they? Despite knowing the that putting everything I wished to say in a letter was impossible, I was not comforted in the least. I still felt as though I should have said more ... that some how I could have, and such a feeling only made that death knell ring louder in my ears. I paused for a second, at long last finding it impossible to go on. I had not gotten far from the gate. Was this really the right decision? But it was too late now, and I knew that, but I could not get my stubborn legs to keep going, even though my mind was willing. Or maybe my mind wasn't as willing as I thought, however much I loved Draco. Maybe my mind was just trying to find one last loop hole, one last thing that might save both he and I, so I wouldn't have to leave my sons. But my mind found no such miracle. Instead all I could think of was the past. The ruined manor before me brought back many memories, and made it all the harder to keep going toward it. I could see that parts of it had been reconstructed, though it was by no means in the glory it once had been, and by all rights looked like an empty shell. I took a deep breath, and tried to move my feet again. No response. So far it appeared as if nobody had seen me yet. Perhaps they knew I was here, perhaps they didn't know.

Suddenly I was dragged out of thought, for I heard the light patter of hooves nearby. My heart shuddered as I looked around for the source of the familiar noise. But when I looked there was nothing there. The sound unfroze me, and filled me with a strange sort of courage, and I took another step forward. Closer, closer, closer I went until I was upon the granite step to the charred door. I heard Bellatrix's sharp laugh from inside, and the blackened door opened with an angry squeal, and I was allowed to enter. The smell of the burned rubble, which had been cleared aside for a pathway made me feel sick and set my head spinning. There was no point in fighting back, and I was not tempted to because I had stowed my wand deep into a pocket opposite Draco's letter. I had come to die, not fight.

"Where is Draco," I demanded in a voice that bravely said nothing of the turmoil and fear I felt inside. "I will go no further until he is released."

Bellatrix laughed again and then yelled out for them to bring him. I wondered in what shape he would be, and was therefore surprised when he was led, whole and unharmed (though pale) into the room. I knew there was no sense in an attempted escape, for Death Eaters had already closed in behind, and were watching the only path out. So I whipped the letter from my pocket and shoved it into his hand, knowing I would not be given the chance for a proper goodbye.

"But ..." said Draco to me, hesitating, clearly wanting to speak with me.

"Go," I said to him sharply, even though I hated to do so. I hated the tone of my voice. I hated that some of the fear in my eyes showed when I told him to leave me to die. "Run, run while you still can."

Bellatrix summoned my wand from my pocket, and I did nothing to stop her.

"Take it back to them, and tell them what has become of your great hero!" she spat to her nephew, who remained frozen as she shoved the wand at him.

Shakily he took it. Then, Draco swallowed, and blinking profusely, he bolted, looking back only once before the gate opened and he disappeared from view. I was greatly relieved that they had let him go, and I knew that he would be found by the Order in moments. I was glad he had gone without a fight, for he never could have won. I heard the gates slam shut once more, and I took my eyes from them, and instead looked at those standing in front of me. Someone closed the door behind me, the hinges letting out a throaty creak. And now came the hard part. Ropes shot out of Bellatrix's wand and bound me tightly, and only then did the Dark Lord come into view from behind a scorched pillar. I was kicked from behind quite suddenly by another Death Eater and fell painfully onto my stomach, arms pinned my side with the ropes. My nose smashed against the ground and broke. The sharp pain made me feel sick and dizzy. I was the dragged along the uneven floor, soot gathering on my face with the blood.

"This way Severus," he hissed excitedly, as I was pulled up by the back of my robe then thrown down the stairs into the cellar, which had been newly reinforced and the area around rebuilt. "It is good to see you. I daresay we have all yearned for your presence." There was nothing but ice in his voice, and it made my insides tremble to the very core as the world spun around me and I lay on my back on the cold cellar floor.

I was slammed up against the wall and chained, the ropes removed. I spat blood onto the floor, my nose bleeding and throbbing painfully. But I knew from experience that it would feel practically wonderful in comparison with what was to be thrown my way.

"Shall we start out with something simple?" asked the Dark Lord, not even waiting for an answer before throwing a Cruciatus at me. I twisted in the chains and cried out. I tasted blood.

He stopped relatively quickly, but in my books that was never a good sign.

***

Night time had gone, and the sun rose a deep orange, streaming in from the open cellar door, which they had left that way so the rest of the Death Eaters could hear my cries of pain, which with each different torture had grown more difficult to silence.

I was allowed to take a break now, so that I might survive longer. I just wanted it to end, but I would not plead for death, which was what he wanted. Left in the aftermath, I wished, oh how I wished to just close my eyes and leave the world. I had already forgotten what it was like not to hurt, with all of the injuries I had sustained; my left arm was most certainly broken, I had lost a tooth, my left shoulder was also dislocated. I had tried to shove it back into place myself like I had done once in the past, but this time it didn't work so well; I wasn't as young as I used to be. There were numerous other small cuts and scrapes here and there and a great few internal injuries that I knew were there from the feeling. My eyes were watering with pain, and I could not stop them from spilling over in this rare moment of blessed peace, the tears stinging and mixing with the splattered blood on my face.

I closed my eyes. Dreaming in my foggy state of Lily. But strangely, after a moment or so, I found myself dreaming of Laura more than anyone else. I did not have the strength to destroy the feeling, and was there really any sense in denying it? I had fallen harder for her than I could admit to myself in any other situation than one like this, where I had maybe a day or two to live - however long he allowed it. The Dark Lord could only be satisfied with torture for so long. I gave a rattling cough, and gasped for the sharp pain in my rib. I spat more blood, this time what I had I coughed up. I wondered how everyone back home was reacting to the fact that I had turned myself in. Minerva would be horrified. The look on her face when I had told the Order I was dying already was terrible, and now I imagined it would be worse once she realized what I had done. I wished I could have succeeded in my animagus classes with her, for I could tell she was excited as I to find out what my form was. I felt my heart flutter as I realized something. Wasn't it worth a try? Wasn't it worth a shot? I had been unbelievably close during our last class. What did I have to lose? I closed my eyes, and took as deep a breath as I dared with my rib currently searing.

I concentrated as I had never concentrated before, and I thought I felt the pain slipping away for a moment, but then my concentration was broken and I was still there, slumped up against the cellar wall and chained. It was only a minute until the light dimmed and I could tell he was standing there in the doorway, and slow footsteps walked down to where I was lying.

"Care for another round?" he asked, twirling his wand.

"Give it your best shot you snake-tongued bastard," I spat at him in a rough and gravelly voice, just so he knew he hadn't beaten me yet. So he struck, his snake-like eyes raging with a fire all their own.

***

I had fainted, I was sure of it, for the next thing I knew it was nighttime and I was lying in a foggy haze feeling ten thousand times worse than before. I lay there in the dark of the night for a length of time I could not put my finger on, until I felt more awake. The pain in every other part of my body diminished the one in my stomach. I wished for it to leave, for right now it was almost too much. My heart was hammering erratically with the painful throbbing I felt all over. I hungered for relief, for anything to take my pain away. I closed my eyes and tried to forget the pain, my body. I imagined myself as mist floating through air, the pain separate, no longer part of me. I had been told in the past that a sort of meditation could help one to feel the pain a little less. Indeed, I was relieved for a second when I felt a strange shivering warmth go through me as the pain left, but it was only temporary, for it was there again and I was still lying on the floor. I swore at the strength of the returning pain but was surprised at how raspy my voice sounded. I opened my eyes. Had I slumped down so low that I was now looking at the first layer of stones in the walls of the cellar? I tried to shift to sit up again, and was surprised to find that the shackles that had been on my wrists had fallen off. They appeared to have expanded in size. I went to leap up, but found it difficult. I felt clumsy, but was somehow able to get onto all fours. Crouching, I tried to stand on my legs, but fell back onto all fours, my left arm aching with pain as I tried to put weight on it. I looked down at my hands, and gasped. I had paws. I looked at my feet. Paws too, and worst of all ... I had a tail. A black, thick furry tail with grey at the end. Was I some sort of dog?

Suddenly, I was delighted. My heart hammered, making all of my injuries throb worse but I ignored them, for I had finally succeeded in becoming an animagus. Or I was delusional, but as the seconds passed I started to think I really wasn't, that this was real. For, while trying to forget the pain, without even knowing it, I had been doing a similar technique to the one Minerva had told me to try in animagus classes. Without wasting another minute, unsteadily I began to creep toward the stairs, surprised at how silent I was. Even though aches and pains shot up with every step I continued to move toward the cellar stairs. Slowly I continued, careful not to make any noise as I laboriously crept out of my prison. When I reached the top of the steps and peered cautiously around the corner, I was further delighted to see that the person supposed to be guarding me wasn't paying much attention, and was playing solitaire with a deck of exploding snap cards nearby. Like a shadow I slid from the cellar stairs to behind a stack of charred rubble that had been pushed aside, not yet cleared away like much of the ruins in the manor. I went in this fashion, freezing every time the man paused to glance around the room. Finally, I was mere feet from the tall smashed out window by the closed door, but my clumsy left front paw, which I was avoiding putting weight on gently tapped a heat warped candle holder on the ground among burned pieces of wood. It made a clattering noise, and I found myself frozen to the spot as the Death Eater looked up.

"Shoo!" he said to me, picking up a fragment of stone nearby and throwing it. "Damn animals. I told them we should have gone somewhere with proper walls." I heard him muttering something about fools and their stubborn ideas as I darted out the empty window frame, unable to believe it. I bolted from the house, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I slid easily through the bars of the fence and out into the forested area around it. I left the wards with great speed. It was only when I was in the bushes where I had seen Lupin earlier that the dizziness struck. It hit me like a freight train, I couldn't breathe, and I was suddenly aware of just how far I had ran and how much my body hurt. I wheezed and took a few steps forward, the chill air stinging my open wounds.

It was snowing; the moonlight shone down and the flakes drifted quietly to the earth. I looked up for a second, strangely aware of how serene the surrounding area was in comparison to the fighting forces within my body. My vision soon blurred all of this into a twisted mess of black; grey and white. I took one more step and collapsed into the cold snow, thinking wryly that this would be how it all ended. In my foggy mind I realized that I would have no chance of surviving frostbite in my current state. Not a second time. I lay there for what felt like a lifetime, the quiet snowflakes drifting down onto my thick fur, which seemed to hold little warmth in my sick and injured state. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when I first saw the pair of boots coming toward me, and faintly within my ears heard the crunch of snow as they approached.

"What are you doing here little guy?" asked a male voice I thought I recognized. I puzzled over it for a second. It couldn't have been Lupin, for his shift by now was long over. "That looks like it hurts." I felt a hand - gentle and kind - reach down and stroke my back. I let out a soft wheeze of thanks, for my muscles loosened slightly with the repetitive motion. "My shift is over anyway ... I think you could use some help."

I knew that voice, oh Merlin I knew it, though I could not place it. My eyes rolled back briefly and then forward again, and I saw dark hair as arms reached down and picked me up, wrapping me in the excess material of what felt like a cloak. I could hear the steady beating of the man's heart, and could feel every footstep. I stirred slightly and another quiet whisper escaped my lips, which were caked with blood.

"Shh, I'll find someone to patch you up," he said. "Between you and me, I have a soft spot for animals."

I felt the air press in on me. The man must have apparated. I breathed in sharply. The apparation had intensified the pain in my ribs, and it made me feel sick. The man took another step and suddenly my stomach revolted. I heaved all over his arm, but was surprised that I was not dropped. It was mostly bile anyway; I had not eaten in a long time.

"That is disgusting," remarked the man distastefully. "No matter ... Molly will know a spell for that." As an afterthought the man added, "I hope she doesn't mind me bringing you back, but she is very good with healing animals. Merlin knows that menace of an owl has hurt himself enough to require her to learn that sort of thing." He appeared to be rambling on to himself, or perhaps he really did think I could understand him.

Molly ... I wondered who was carrying me that knew her well enough to take me to her. I felt bad for throwing up on my rescuer, but was delighted to learn that I was being taken back to the Burrow. I wasn't entirely surprised though, as it was generally the place where members of the Order checked in these days, for Grimmauld Place was not as accessible as it used to be. Voldemort had caught wind of the general area of headquarters, so sometimes we found it easier to meet other places, depending on Death Eater activity and the number of our people planning on meeting. Apparation to the steps of Grimmauld Place was risky now, for many days of the year there had been Death Eaters out and about looking for headquarters. Black had been the first to point that out, and therefore suggested that we come through the floo unless absolutely necessary, which meant that larger meetings were difficult to hold on days the Dark Lord had followers sweeping the area. I forgot these thoughts for a while, for I saw the glittering lights of the Burrow ahead, and felt my heart soar. I coughed harshly, this time tasting blood.

"Take it easy little guy," said the voice, and he pulled his cloak tighter around me.

Oh Hell, I remembered who that voice belonged to. Speak of the Devil, I was in the arms of Sirius Black. I felt my stomach twist once more.

"Yuck, did you have to do that again?" said Black, sounding a little green after I thoroughly covered his arm with the rest of the contents of my stomach. The taste burned my mouth.

He knocked on the door of the Burrow, and Ginny opened the door.

"Hello Sirius, what are you - oh the poor thing!" she cried, spying me and putting her hand to her mouth. "Come in, I'm sure Mum will be able to do something for it."

"Thank you Ginny," replied Sirius as Ginny shouted for Molly.

Molly rushed over to us. I could only see blurry shapes for the pain, but she bent down slightly to examine me.

"This one's been through the mill," she said. "A black fox ... how curious. Where did you find it?"

So that's what I am, I thought dazedly.

"Outside Malfoy Manor at the end of my shift," said Black. "I think my dear cousin was torturing it for sport and left it to go off and die. She has a bit of an aversion to anything dog-like. I think that has something to do with my namesake, if you'll pardon me saying so."

Ginny, who was standing nearby said, "They're supposed to be unlucky you know, black foxes. I don't think the poor dear would disagree with that."

No, I would not disagree. Call me ‘dear' again and I'll lean over and bite you.

"Ah yes, I have heard that before. I've never seen one; not many survived the years of over-hunting," I heard Molly say, rather sadly as she bustled about. "Bring it over here Sirius, and settle it on this blanket."

I was set down, in far more gentle a manner than I could ever imagine Black to be capable of.

"You wouldn't know a spell to get this out, would you" asked Black, and I supposed he must be talking about the nice stain I had inflicted upon his robe.

"I'm afraid it will need to be washed to get it out properly," said Molly. "I can do that for you if you would like."

"Yeah, thanks." I saw the fuzzy form of Black shrug off his robe, revealing a white shirt and black trousers. Molly took it sent it to her laundry room with a wave of her wand and then knelt down on the floor next to me.

"Ginny, get me a wet cloth and warm water and some dittany. Bring the bag of herbs I keep in the cupboard."

I coughed violently, which sounded horrid, even to my ears.

"I don't know if he will make it," said Molly as Black sat beside me and stroked one of my paws gently with his finger. Even though he still repulsed me to some degree, once another wave of dizziness fell upon me and made me forget temporarily who was petting me, I had to admit it felt sort of nice.

"He's strong though, you can see it in his eyes," he muttered as Molly waved her wand over me.

"Broken leg, dislocated shoulder, some shattered bones in the snout, fractured rib, numerous cuts, dehydration, missing a tooth ... who did this?"

"I stand by my first assumption. I am quite willing to bet it was Bellatrix, or one of her sick friends."

"Quite likely," Molly said, sounding upset. "Be careful Sirius, this will hurt him and he might bite."

She muttered a spell, and suddenly I heard a pop and my shoulder went back into place. The pain made me want to throw up again, but I moaned quite loudly instead. I stopped quickly, even though it still hurt, for I was surprised at the noise I made, which had come in the form of a long dog-like howl.

"It's okay there fella, I would be howling to high heaven too," muttered Black under his breath. I appreciated his statement, though it hurt like the blazes.

"Alright, now for the bones," Molly told Sirius. "I'll have to set the leg, and the bones in the snout before they can heal so he'll do that at least twice more."

"I'm ready," said Black.

I saw her wand hovering over my leg, but she lowered it.

"What's going on?" I heard Harry ask. It sounded as though he was at the foot of the stairs, and I tried to shift to get a good look at him, but couldn't. He sounded like he had been crying.

"Sirius found an injured fox. We're healing a few of its injuries, so don't be surprised if it is a bit loud."

"Okay."

"How's Draco?" asked Black to Harry.

"Asleep," muttered Harry. "He'll be okay, I think."

"How are you?"

"Surviving," was all that Harry said before retreating up the stairs, which showed how bad he was feeling if he didn't want to spend time with his godfather. I wished to transform back, but knew that it was risky with Molly healing me right now. I would wait. I felt so relieved to know that I had been able to return to them.

I let loose another long howl as Molly set the bone in my leg, but took a deep breath when a warm heat went through it, the bone healed. The same went for my nose, or snout I supposed. Then I tried to stand up, but Black gently pushed me down, which was just as well because I was too dizzy to move anyway.

"Plenty of spirit, that's apparent," Black muttered, holding me down as Molly started to gently wash away the blood in my fur with the warm water and cloth. It felt wonderful, and with only the remaining aches from the cruciatus curse I was able to relax, for my pain in comparison to how it had been was minimal. She applied a little bit of dittany, and I was coaxed into drinking some bitter herbs mixed into a bowl of water.

I felt a hand scratch behind my ear. My tail twitched slightly and I let out a sort of sigh, for it was an extremely nice feeling.

"He sure does act like a dog, for a fox," said Black, amused. " Makes me wonder if it could have been one of Lucius Malfoy's old pets hanging around. He had quite the collection of exotic animals. Doesn't have as strong a scent as a fox would either. Perhaps I'll ask Draco some time."

My ears twitched this way and that as I listened in on the conversation. I wondered if my lack of the usual musk that a fox gives off had something to do with the fact that I was magical, and an animagus. I reminded myself to ask Minerva about it.

"It very well could be a pet left behind after the fire," Molly replied thoughtfully, putting the stopper back in the dittany. "That's just as well that it doesn't have a strong scent; it's too cold to keep him outside."

"I think it would be best if you put up a few spells to keep him in one place until you find out how tame he is," said Black.

"Yes, although we've had all manner of strange animals in this house when it has gotten too cold for them to be outside. I remember once we had to keep a little piglet in here for almost a week, Ginny was ecstatic." Molly chuckled slightly. "I was not happy; it kept rooting around in my potted plants."

I fell asleep soon after, under the watchful gaze of Black and Molly, safe at last in the home of someone who cared for me. I would turn back when I awoke, and then Harry and Draco would not need to fear any longer. But first, I needed strength.

I awoke in the morning, feeling a little better, and so slowly, I sat up. It took me a moment to remember what had happened, but I was fairly content once I did and scratched my ear with my foot. It felt oddly natural. I still ached in various places and I was very dizzy, but overall it was an improvement. My vision had cleared up, and I glanced around the room. I was surprised to see someone watching me from a distance.

"Hello," said Harry looking at me curiously. His eyes were still a little bit red and there were deep shadows under them. But he looked like he was - as he said earlier - surviving.

I was so happy to see him that I smiled so hard I sneezed.

"You're kind of funny you know," he muttered, taking another step closer but still a ways away. "The neighbour's dog used to do that. Aunt Petunia hated him, but I liked him."

Eager at the fact that Harry had noticed me I closed my eyes and tried to transform back now that I felt I had the strength. I did precisely what I did earlier to turn into a fox, and then I opened my eyes, suddenly aware of the fact that I hadn't felt a thing. Naturally one only does recall certain unfortunate details when a rather interesting situation presents itself. At this point I recalled that Minerva had mentioned that oftentimes getting back into your human form is very nearly as difficult to achieve as an animagus form. It is a two way street apparently, and so most of the time an instructor ends up having to use an incantation for the pupil to change back. Generally this happens the first few times until they learn how to change back themselves. Angry, I slouched down. Typical, of course; there was always a catch.

"Are you hungry or something?" wondered Harry aloud as he noticed the fact that my lip was curled up and a few of my teeth were sticking out; a decidedly dog-like expression that irritated me further. On the plus side, when I started thinking about my teeth I realized Molly had regrown the one I lost, much to my delight. I loved magic. But at the moment, now that I thought about Harry's question that had been more or less voiced to himself, I was hungry.

"You wait right here, I'll go see if Mrs. Weasley has something for you." I tried to follow him, but not only was I having trouble getting up, but I bumped into some sort of magical barrier when I finally did get to my feet and tried to follow him. I sat down in disgust. No wonder Harry hadn't come closer. He couldn't.

Molly came into the room a little while after, and Harry went up the stairs once more. I would have followed him if it weren't for the fact that Molly held in her hands a plate with some sort of meat on it. Well, that and the barrier. But, the food looked delicious, and I could feel my ears pricking up in interest as I watched her. She lifted the spell and came closer to me.

"Go on then," said Molly with a slight laugh as I lifted my paws up and down in anticipation. She shook her head at the grin that I was wearing as I sniffed the air around the plate. "You're strangely tame for a fox, you know." She set the plate down before me, and I went right to work. I had to admit, even if it wasn't at all what I was used to, I still adored Molly's cooking. Stomach satisfied, I decided to give turning back into myself another go. But I soon abandoned the endeavour in favour of taking a nap, for the food had made me extremely tired and I had not been making any progress whatsoever regardless of the fact that I was trying my best. I would simply have to rethink my technique, and keep trying.

When I awoke I spent the remaining part of the day trying in vain to transform, but was unable to. Molly had decided later in the day that, as I had yet to wreak any havoc in the small area I had been given, she would remove the spells, seeing as they were a nuisance for anyone trying to go out the back door or get to the little laundry room. Of course, all of this probably had something to do with the fact that I really was not fast at getting anywhere. However, I enjoyed the freedom despite the fact that I wasn't doing so well at walking. It took a long time to work up the strength, but when the clink of dishes being washed died down I dared to hobble my way slowly to the kitchen, still stiff, dizzy, and sore. I was a little annoyed that I had been sleeping while everyone had been down for dinner, and therefore did not get a chance to see everyone. I could hear voices as I entered the kitchen, and as most of the others had been upstairs for the day I was rather hoping for some company.

"Come on, Ron has an owl, why can't I get a cat?" Ginny asked impatiently. "Dad said yes."

"Arthur thought you meant a muggle cat," said Molly wearily. "If we were to get a cat I would prefer it to be magical, because they are smarter, and therefore easier to train and we wouldn't have to worry about it straying out of the wards and giving away the location of the house. It's just too dangerous if someone recognizes it to be ours. We can afford the risk about as much as we can afford a magical cat. They are not cheap dear."

Ginny huffed in disappointment and rested her chin on her fist.

"What about an owl?"

"Owls are every bit as expensive, and before you object - Ron got his as gift from Sirius, remember?"

"I wish my dorm mates didn't let all their owls fly in and out of the dorm. Owls would eat a pygmy puff for sure," she said gloomily, and I wondered just what in the hell a pygmy puff was anyway. "Fred and George would have given me one for free if it weren't for that, you know."

Suddenly I started to cough, which came out as a strange hissing wheeze. Molly and Ginny jumped and looked over at me as I hacked. I could taste blood, and my legs got weak so I lay down on my stomach, the kitchen floor cool to my belly, my legs tangled beneath me.

"Ginny, go fetch me some Weasley's Wort from the garden, will you?"

"It works on animals too?" asked Ginny curiously as she got up.

"Well it did on one of Arabella's cats, do hurry," she said as I continued to wheeze.

Ginny came back soon, holding in her snowy mittens a sort of plant that looked rather like winter-green. Molly took it from her and put it into a pot she was heating water in. In a few minutes she poured the liquid - it sort of looked like tea- into a bowl and cast a cooling charm on it. She set it before me, and knowing she knew what she was doing, I drank it. It tasted like a peculiar blend of mint, licorice and something a little sharper. I lapped it all up under Molly's watchful gaze. I really couldn't get used to drinking like that, but the tea was nice. It soothed my raw throat.

"I have never met a more obedient fox," she said, shaking her head in mild amazement for not the first time that day.

"Can we keep him then?" Ginny piped up immediately, looking hopeful.

"Only until he is well enough to be on his own," said Molly firmly. "I wouldn't dare put him outside, what with that chill he had when he came to us. He can barely get around here where its warm."

It hadn't occurred that some of the muscle cramping could have been due to the fact that I had been chained in a cold cellar for so long. There had been minimal heating charms down there, just to keep me from freezing. Thinking of this, I lay down by the bowl, my lungs feeling slightly better. The tightness seemed to have been partially relived, and my head cleared a little as well, which I was glad for. The difference was not profound, but for the moment it seemed to alleviate a little bit of the pain, and I was grateful for it.

"Well Ginny, seeing as you're yearning to look after something you can be in charge of our little friend," Molly began. "Make sure to give him the tea once in the morning and once in the evening, and make sure he gets adequate meals. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes!" Ginny said excitedly, throwing her arms around Molly in gratitude, who looked amused.

"He needs a name then, if he'll be staying for a little while."

"I'm working on it; it'll be the best name ever," she said. "I wonder where Harry went, he's really good at naming things."

Great, I would end up with a name somewhere along the lines of Rexy. What would it be, foxy? Black Paws? Alright, I had to admit that the name Hedwig at least had dignity, so maybe if I was lucky he'd suggest something along those lines.

I returned to the blanket by the back door and slept for a while, and then simply lay with my eyes closed. I would have searched for Harry or Draco, but was unable to get up the stairs for the dizziness and tremors. Though they were improved a little by the obscure ‘Weasley's Wort', they were still present. I could only assume that it was called that because Molly grew it herself. Debate around the name of the plant aside, when I finally did open my eyes I was delighted to see Draco. He quickly strode to the front door, and opened it. Out into the snow he walked, wearing nothing but his socks, jeans and a thin sweater. The cold wind whipped his hair. I was rather alarmed, and wondered what he was doing. Molly looked up from her knitting, noticing that the door was open. Draco's socked feet had been silent, but the wind as not. She put down her needles and went out into the snow, having pulled on a pair of soft slippers and a warm shawl around her shoulders. She held a folded quilt under her arm. I walked unsteadily to the door and out into the snow too, trying to get to him without falling. It took a while, but I reached him, and I sat down in the snow by his feet.

"What are you doing Draco?" asked Molly softly, draping the quilt around his shoulders and pulling it tightly around him.

It took him a second to answer, for he seemed captivated by the snowy hills. "I thought ... I thought I saw him," he muttered. I tugged at his pant leg with my teeth to say I am here, but he did not notice. My heart ached like my paws did in the snow.

"Come back inside dear," Molly whispered to him, tears in her eyes. He stood for a minute or two more, not even shivering, and then he allowed Molly to bring him back in. I trotted beside him.

She led him to the table, and made him a cup of tea, which she placed in front of him before taking a seat opposite him. I sat nearby, and I saw her place a hand on top of his. He trembled for a moment, and then looked down at his lap, shoulders rising and falling shakily, his tea forgotten beside him. She took his hands, and she held them for as long as he sat like that.

It was only when he had calmed down that she said, "I was there once too. I wish I could do something to make it easier, but I cannot. Someday you will be able to think of him without pain; it takes time, but some day you will. It isn't your fault."

Draco examined the wood of the table, tears silently dripping from his nose. "I know," he whispered, putting his hand on his pocket and fingering the creased envelope which was protruding from it.

      I pawed at his leg. He reached down absent-mindedly and scratched my ears, clearly not realizing that I was not only a fox, but his bloody guardian. I scowled, not wanting that but instead wishing for him to realize I wasn't gone. That I hadn't left him.

I sat, swaying a little dizzily on the spot and looking at the calendar, trying to figure out what day it was. I cocked my head from side to side, wracking my brains until I had determined that it was the twenty-first of December. I let out a breath and went off to try to transform back to myself again. I concentrated until my head spun, and then I stumbled over to lay by the fire. I watched the flames dancing as coughs rattled down my spine, feeling like some sort of pitiful family pet that was on its deathbed. I was distracted from my dark thoughts by the sound of a knock on the door. Molly let the person in, and I soon saw that it was Minerva. My heart leaped in excitement, and I shakily got up and walked over to her.

"Who is this?" she asked Molly as I greeted her excitedly and tried to tell her that it was me. Surely Minerva would recognize an animagus when she saw one.

"A fox that we found the other day," said Molly. "He's quite friendly, and we're trying to restore his health."

"And he hasn't been any trouble being in the house?" Minerva mentioned, and Molly said that I hadn't been, looking baffled. If only they could just put two and two together! It seemed so simple to me I was ready to scream - well, howl. "He's got a lovely coat."

I knew that Molly was used to odd animals needing medical care around here: Owls, pigs, cats, all manner of strange creatures. But surely she would realize that no normal fox would have been as calm in a house as I? Perhaps she just thought I was domesticated, or that I was too sick to do anything that might annoy them. It made me extremely grumpy that I didn't know why she was able to make sense of a fox as tame as a dog.

"Any news of Severus?" said Molly in a hushed tone once Minerva returned her attention to her. I pawed at Minerva's leg frantically. It's me! It's me! No, don't scratch my ears you daft woman!

"None, they have him hidden well," said Minerva. "We're in the midst of planning a rescue, assuming we can get through the wards."

I howled loudly. IT'S ME! IT'S SEVERUS! I wheezed some more, a noise that made Minerva cringe.

"Oh my, what a racket! Are you in pain?" asked Molly sympathetically. She then turned toward the stairs and called, "Ginny!"

"Yes?" came the reply in a moment, followed by footsteps and Ginny running down toward us. She waved at Minerva, who responded with a smile.

"I think it's time for some more Weasley's Wort," she said to Ginny, who rushed off immediately with a "Yes mum!".

"Weasley's Wort?" asked Minerva.

"It's a plant that's been growing in our back garden for quite some time now," said Mrs. Weasley. "We discovered it does wonders for colds and coughs and such. Brilliant, you know. I have never seen it anywhere besides in the back garden. I've been meaning to ask a Herbologist about it since we first found it, but I just never seem to get the time ..."

"How interesting," she told Molly with much curiosity. Her expression changed to one of weariness as she glanced at the clock. "I should be going; I have to go tell my niece how the rescue is going. She's quite upset about the whole thing."

I perked my ears up momentarily. She must mean Laura, I thought eagerly. But my joy was receded when I remembered that I was still stuck as a fox.

"Thank you for dropping by, Minerva," said Molly with a sigh as I pouted by her feet. She shook her head upon looking at me, and Minerva shut the door, giving me the strong desire to howl again.

Just as Molly was going upstairs, Ginny brought me a bowl with some of the Weasley's Wort steeping in water. It was fairly warm, but not hot. Ginny must have added some cool water so I wouldn't burn my tongue. I lapped the liquid up slowly, and found that I liked the tea better warm than the way Molly had given it to me - cold, that is. The warmth of the water and the odd coolness that came from the wort soothed my throat. The steam relaxed my lungs, beginning to clear my head for a short time. Ginny sat and watched me while I drank it.

"I decided on a name for you," she informed me. I paused in drinking, hoping it wouldn't be something stupid.

"Go on," I said, my statement sounding more like a strange throaty growl, though not angry like most growling seems.

"Ash," she said. "Do you like it?"

I thought for a moment, my ears twitching. I told her the name was alright, though this too sounded nothing like the words I had meant to form.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said with a smile, picking up the bowl and taking it away.

Alright, I was impressed; it wasn't something like Mr. Fluffy or something stupid like Blackie. I could live with Ash for the time being.

I got to my feet and walked around a little, surprised to find that my legs didn't shake near as much as before. The Weasley's Wort was doing the trick for the time being, so, to celebrate my semi-sound state, I decided to go upstairs to see if I could find Harry or Draco. Carefully, and not believing my luck that Molly was letting me roam about (though I had to admit there were enough people in the cramped house to make sure I wasn't being a nuisance), I went up the stairs, peering into rooms and hoping to find one of the boys. The journey up the stairs was no easy feat, and it took me a long time despite my legs being a little better. When I finally had gotten up the last flight of stairs I found Ron Weasley's room, and it was open a crack. I bunted it open with my nose and peered in. Ron and Harry were sitting on the floor, Harry's broomstick servicing kit open at their feet. I had made sure to bring it here for him when I brought a few of our things earlier in the week, hoping to keep him occupied. He was clipping a few stray twigs from his Firebolt, though not nearly as enthusiastically as he would usually. I noticed Draco was not in the room, and decided he must be in the shower, as I had heard it running.

"Look Ron, it's that fox," said Harry almost disinterestedly.

Ron however looked intrigued, and set down the polish, wiping his hands on a rag. I was taken aback at how much stronger the smell of the polish was to the nose of a fox.

He clicked his tongue and said, "here boy."

I huffed and sat down.

"He's probably a bit wild you know, not much point," said Harry, though I could tell that he had become mildly interested. I was relieved at this, for the detached way he had been tending to his Firebolt had worried me.

"I dunno, it still looks sick. I don't think it has the energy to mind us so much for the moment, you know?" said Ron. "Do you think it'd like owl treats?"

"Doubt it," Harry said. "I've yet to meet a carnivore that likes birdseed and honey."

"Good point," said Ron sheepishly, blushing. "It just ... it looks so ill ... like it's half-starved or something."

"You can't fatten everything up, Molly," muttered Harry. Ron looked horrified at the thought. I felt my insides glow at Harry's joke. It was a sign of hope for me. But my heart sunk when I realized he found no humour in his own statement.

"What do you think it's doing up here?" asked Harry as Ron spluttered.

"Er ... maybe it's looking for Ginny?"

"It looks a little lonely. Come here fox ... come on," said Harry, beckoning for me to come closer, and I did so gladly. He scratched my ears. After a while the boys went back to working on their broomsticks while I lay on the floor observing. They didn't seem to mind my presence, and so I stayed near Harry as long as I was given the chance to. I followed them downstairs, and feeling weak I lay down on the blanket. I was given my supper while the others ate, and following the meal everyone stayed down in the sitting room for a while, playing chess or exploding snap. Draco sat by the window. Harry too glanced frequently out the window. I tried once more change back. This was unsuccessful. I was surprised when Ginny sat down beside me. She set my little bowl of tea in front of me, and I gratefully lapped it up, already having been looking forward to the slight reprieve from aches and dizziness that it offered. When I was done she stared at me a moment.

"Your coat needs to be groomed," muttered Ginny absent mindedly to herself. "Don't foxes do that themselves?" I glared at her. "What's with you? Waiting for me to brush you or something? Sometimes I wonder if you weren't someone's pet."

I scowled, and she got up and left. She had a point. I gritted my teeth for a moment, and then stuck my tongue out and started with my paws. I did not enjoy fur on my tongue, but I resented looking like an un-groomed wild thing, so I put up with it for the sake of my dignity.

***

I awoke abruptly in the night, though not for the sharp pain that I had felt for such a long time in my lungs, but instead because I heard footsteps. My keen hearing picked up a dragging sound, and I quickly leaped to my feet, surprised at how well the Weasley Wort was working at keeping away my dizziness. I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantle, and it read one-o-clock. I heard the noise again by the stairs, and was surprised to find Harry up. I made a quiet huffing noise so as to alert him of my presence but not scare him. He did not respond, and continued to methodically walk toward the window. He stopped there, swaying a little on the spot. It was then that I trotted over to him, and I looked up, only to realize that he wasn't awake after all. He appeared to be sleepwalking. I grabbed a hold of one of the legs on his pyjama trousers and gently tried to get him to walk up to bed before he hurt himself, as I knew he would not wake easily. He didn't budge however, for I wasn't able to properly guide him by the shoulders. I stood very still for a moment, concentrating on my human form, and how it felt to be Severus, me. Great. Failure again, and I knew what I needed to do, and it would make me feel extremely stupid but for Harry's sake it needed to be done. So, a minute later I was scratching at Molly and Arthur's bedroom door like a silly dog, and wanting strongly to kick myself. It took a moment, but Molly, in her dressing gown, opened the door, and after a moment of looking around glanced down.

She looked rather confused, and surprised I had gotten up the stairs alright. I tugged at the hem of her dressing gown once to get her to follow me, and then started down the stairs. She appeared to get the message, for I could hear her feet descending behind me. I looked back to make sure and paused a second for her to catch up.

"Do you want outside?" she asked.

I scowled, and then ran over to Harry and clicked my paws against the floor, tugging on Harry's pyjama trouser.

"Oh my ... Harry, what are you doing?" she asked him. No response. She walked over, and in a moment she too realized he was sleepwalking.

"Thank you Ash," she said. I was surprised for a second to be called by the name that Ginny had decided upon. I followed closely as she guided him by the shoulders back to his bed, for he was unable to be woken. I wished I could be the one standing and helping him up the stairs, but instead I was stuck as a stupid fox. I wanted a disguise, but not from my own family!

***

Morning came, and Ginny gave me another bowl of the Weasley's Wort tea, and I had to admit I felt extremely energetic, though I was still coughing quite a bit. My injuries were faring much better now, and the dizziness and tremors seemed to have improved. After my breakfast I went outside to do my business (which I resented having to do outside out in the snow behind the bushes, something that mortified me in every way) and on my way back in, I noticed something interesting. For some reason the chicken coop intrigued me, and I found myself slowly inching closer to it. I felt my tail twitch, and ears swivel as I listened to the clucking. Molly was bundled up in her thick cloak, and she opened the coop to put out new pans of water and throw some feed down for them. I noticed she had not latched the little gate, and it was simply resting in a closed position behind her. A fat hen was clucking in the little yard despite the chill, and without really thinking what I was doing I swept through the gate, leaving it open behind me, Molly still turned toward the coop. I leaped at the chicken, and missed, and became suddenly aware of the fact that I found this absolutely hilarious. I didn't intend to catch it, but it was wicked fun to chase the noisy chicken around the yard.

"ASH!" shouted Molly. I froze in my tracks, remembering myself. My ears went down and I watched as she shut the gate where the terrified hen had fled into the coop. She stalked over to me, and only at that moment did I truly understand why each one of the Weasley children was horror-struck upon the threat of letters being sent home, because Molly was bloody terrifying. And that was something considering I had faced the Dark Lord numerous times.

"Leave my hens alone!" she said, lunging at me, lifting me by the scruff of the neck, and holding me up to her level. I was surprised at the gesture and yelped. "That hen had better be laying tomorrow, because if you disrupted her laying I will be extremely unhappy." She glared at me for a second more, and then set me on the ground, and with her marching behind me I slunk into the house. I was mortified she'd caught me doing something as childish as chasing chickens, even if it had been wicked fun indeed. I lay down on the blanket, wheezing from exertion and the general terror that had gripped my heart. Molly looked as though she didn't care in the least that I was hacking fit to die on the blanket. Ginny came to console me, and I found I was liking her more and more.

"Well, I thought it was hilarious," she assured me as she scratched behind my ears. "I wish Harry could have seen it. He could use a laugh. Well, both of them could use a laugh." She sighed, then after a moment added, "Mum couldn't get Harry to get out of bed this morning. He's just lying there. And I don't think Draco can stand to sit still. See? He's pacing by the window again. I think that sort of stuff comes and goes with them." She nodded toward the sitting room where Draco was walking back and forth in front of the window, glancing out it occasionally and hanging his head after seeing nobody. "Ron's at a loss. Do you think I should go talk to Harry?"

I tried to say yes, but it came out as a sort of yip. I was pretty sure Ginny was the girl Harry had his eye on, and I had to say I quite approved of her. Perhaps knowing someone cared would help him perk up for the time being while I tried to fix my furry problem.

"You're right, maybe I should." She looked up the stairs. "See you later Ash. I'll let you know how it goes. Maybe I can cheer him up a little ... I'll tell him how you chased the chickens!"

I sighed slightly and rested my head on my paws.

        Christmas Eve dawned bright and cold, but my insides felt colder. The boys were both in a state of misery, and I was not doing well either, with my inability to change back; it was driving me ever so slowly into a deep state of depression. The boys seemed to be faring no better. I had poked my head into Fred and George's room, which they were both sharing. They had both been in bed much of the day, though Draco, who was always hungry regardless of how he was feeling, went downstairs for food eventually. Harry however, I was worried about. He wouldn't get up, and just stared straight up at the ceiling. I had been unable to stay long with him however, for Molly made sure I came back downstairs, as I had come up to see if she could get him to eat something. She had talked to him gently, but he barely responded. I was surprised that even Ginny was unable to get through to him, for she confessed this to me when she gave me my tea to drink. I had thought Harry might be getting a little better, but that was not the case. In hindsight, I should not have believed this, as depression often does take a little while to fully manifest itself. Everything that was happening worried me greatly, and I felt a gnawing sensation in my stomach every time I thought of what might happen if was never able to turn back.  

      Another dose of Weasley's Wort made me feel much better, physically at least, and so I perked up quite a bit. After another session of trying to turn back to myself with no success, I found that I had the insatiable urge to chew on something, for some odd reason, and so I started on the edge of the ratty blanket I had been lying on. I didn't want to cause too much of a ruckus (especially after the chicken incident), but really could not help myself. Perhaps it was some sort of instinctual thing I had yet to fully understand. It also may have had something to do with me being worried and restless after yet another unsuccessful attempt at changing back, but I could not be sure.  

     "What are you doing?" said Molly wearily, staring down at me. I stopped immediately, though my teeth were saying I shouldn't. "I would say you are feeling better."

     I pulled back my lips and flashed my teeth at her in as cheerful a manner as one can do as a fox. I wanted to show her I was grateful for all of her help.

      "Yes, I'd say you are," she continued, amused. She chattered half to me and half to herself as she continued "Unfortunately, that means you're going to start acting like an animal again. I had better keep you another day or so to make sure you're well enough to face the cold, but you'll be a disaster in the house. Hmm ...... what to do with you? Ah yes, of course."

      Ten minutes later Arthur was herding me into his shed with the help of Molly. I was extremely displeased with this, but didn't growl or bite because I knew that otherwise I wouldn't get to stay at all. The blanket was settled down for me, and Arthur did a spell on the door so they would hear me scratching in the house. They had thought me most clever when they found out I knew how to tell them I wanted to go outside. It pissed me off royally, having to scratch at a door like a dog, but until I had returned to my usual self (which I was starting to lose all hope that I would anytime soon) I had no choice. I huffed when Molly set out a bowl of water for me, and I flopped down onto the blanket ungracefully, for my legs - while better from the Wort - were still shaky and I was tired.

      "There, don't worry, you'll be well in a day or two," she said to me apologetically.

      You don't know the half of it, I thought mutinously as the door to the shed shut behind Molly, locking me in silence.

       It was a boring day for me, and I slept much of it. I gnawed slightly on a bone that Arthur had kindly procured for me, though it did not hold my interest for long.  I was at least happy that the shed was warm. There was a little magical heating device up on the shelf, which I appreciated. Through the little window I could see the snow swirling, and the wind howled and pounded against the thin walls. I sighed in as much of a way a fox can sigh, and I continued to stare out at the cold wall of white.

      I lay, long after Ginny had come to bring me more tea and my supper, pining away for company and to see my boys. I ached to see them, or just to know they were okay. Everything about this was my fault, and my anger and frustration at being stuck as a fox grew and grew, until I wondered if the rushing and roaring of the storm outside wasn't just me hearing what was going on inside of me. It grew later into the night, and after hours of concentrating and trying to hard to change back I just gave up, and I let myself doze.

       While I lay in a daze the storm raged on, and in the shed with the black and white pressing in on me I felt extremely small. As I dozed lightly, I fell into half dreams. I wasn't quite awake, but I wasn't quite asleep either. My mind wandered back to those days when Draco was younger, and used to come visit me when his parents were fighting. My heart ached all the more when before my eyes swam the memories of the time we made "potions" together when he was five. We had gone down to the kitchens in the school and mixed different kinds of juices and fruit pieces in a big bowl to drink. These memories became entwined with those of when Hermione and Harry were de-aged, once again recollections of us sitting and reading together. It was so real to me in my dozy state that I could almost feel warmth from them beside me as they drifted off. I could feel my fingers and toes, slightly cold as they always were, and how they felt as I turned the pages. Warmth filled my insides, and I wondered if it might not be something besides the memories that were causing it.

     Suddenly I was jerked back to reality by a creaking noise the shed gave as the wind battered it. Annoyed that I had been so close to falling asleep, only to have it snatched away from me at the last minute, I put my head back down on my paws. But they weren't paws. They were hands again. I leaped to my feet, surprised when my legs shook badly under me, making me have to grab a workbench covered in muggle plugs that was standing nearby. In a few moments I regained my balance, and was able to walk properly. I didn't think about anything but that door in front of me. I ran forward to it, more energy in me than I had felt in a long time. I drew my bloodstained cloak around me and reached for the cold handle. I couldn't believe my luck, and because of that my hand became frozen upon the knob, my head swimming with thoughts.

     Was it possible I was just dreaming this? That I wanted so badly to be back to my usual self that I had imagined it? I wasn't even sure how I had turned back, though I supposed it had something to do with thinking about the feelings associated with my human form. It was a little bit like when I turned into a fox. Perhaps I had simply been concentrating too hard all of those other times. Maybe my body had to be relaxed for the transformation to occur. These thoughts did nothing but confuse me, so I stopped thinking about that and concentrated on whether or not this was reality. It felt strange to be me again, and seemed every bit as surreal as the moment when I had first become a fox. Perhaps slight disorientation was a part of transformation. I pushed this thought aside while I looked around, trying to ground myself. As the cold crept under the door and chilled my feet in my shoes I felt my sense of reality return. Yes, this was real. It was too cold to be imagined, especially the metal doorknob on my bare hands. I pinched myself for good measure, and I felt pain. Still barely believing what was happening I turned the doorknob and went out into the snow. Immediately a blast of frigid wind met me, threatening to push the door shut on me. I quickly stepped out into the snow, which was wet around my ankles, and made them ache.

     It was a hell of a storm, that was for sure. In the dark of the swirling night I saw a faint light a ways off, shining like a beacon in one of the windows of The Burrow. It danced and moved with every step I took toward it, and though my fingers were getting numb, and my face was freezing cold, I kept moving. With each step I seemed to draw from within me a kind of strength I had seldom felt before. It was like I had a well of fire deep within me, and every so often I could pull the hot flames to the surface, igniting me from the very core and giving me the energy to keep walking through the tumult of the storm. The wind threw itself against me, and rippled my cloak in the places that were not stiff with long dried blood. Yet, amidst all of this, closer the light grew, until I was at the back door of the Burrow. I turned the handle, and thankfully it was unlocked. I stumbled through in a flurry of snow, barely keeping my footing as I was battered by the rushing wind. I forced the door shut behind me and then turned around, and as I did so I heard a gasp. Molly and Arthur were still up, wrapping jumpers and a few other small gifts. I looked at the clock as it struck midnight, and for a few moments we all stood there in dumbstruck silence, the chiming of the clock ringing in our ears. I supposed I probably looked a wreck. My hair was tangled and full of snow, and my cloak and robes, though black, clearly had dark stains where the blood had soaked in while I was being tortured.  My collar was stiff with blood too.

     "Thank heavens!" croaked Molly, hardly able to speak. She rushed forward and hugged me, much to my surprise. Arthur looked apologetically at me when he saw my shocked expression, though he too looked very glad to see me. "The boys will be so relieved ... Harry, I've been so worried about him, he won't get out of bed ..."

      "I know," I said immediately.

      "H-How?" she asked, releasing me and looking up into my eyes in wonder.

      Feeling my face grow hot I told her what happened as quickly as I could, and as briefly as possible so as to avoid prolonging my humiliation.

      "Congratulations," said Arthur unexpectedly. "Becoming an Animagus is no easy feat."

       I nodded, but didn't pay too much attention to his compliment, for I only had thoughts for my boys.

      "You don't suppose ..." I began, though Molly seemed to read my mind.

      "Go wake them right away, they'll want to see you. Go," she said hurriedly. "I don't even care if they make a racket, just don't let them see their presents!" She nodded toward the few jumpers yet to be wrapped. "I made Draco one this year too."

       "I'm sure he'll love it," I said as an afterthought as I rushed to the stairs. I swept up to Fred and George's room easily with little dizziness.  

       When I reached the door I didn't hesitate a second, and I opened it as quietly as possible so as not to alarm them. I closed it softly behind me, and turned to look at the sleeping boys. I didn't know who to go to first, so for a second I stood there, unsure which way to go. Knowing he never really did get a chance to say goodbye to me, I went to Draco first. I rubbed his shoulder with my cold hand and his eyes snapped open. For a second he just stared, looking as though he was afraid to believe it.

      "I'm here, I'm real," I whispered to him, almost unable to believe it myself, and in silence he threw his arms around me.

      "I'm so sorry Dad," he whispered, trying to hold back sobs. "I didn't mean for it all to happen."

     "Dad," I muttered to myself, a little dazedly as he hung onto me tightly.

     He whispered the words to me softly, sounding like he had been waiting to say it to me for a long time. "Lucius was only a father. You're my dad, because dads care."

     "You don't need to explain why," I said to him, and we let go, and simply stared into each others' eyes as though we needed to know the other truly was there.

    "How did you do it?" he asked me, confused. "How did you get out?"

    "I'll wait to explain that once I rouse Mister Coma over there," I said, glancing at Harry, my humour returning to me now that one disaster had been averted.

     "I don't know how he hasn't woken up yet." Draco shook his head, amazed. Then, his expression grew downcast. "Of course, he hasn't really slept since you've been gone."

     "I know," I said sadly, and crept over to Harry's bed and sat down on the edge of it. I had to gently shake him for a little while to get him to wake, for he was in an extremely deep sleep. He opened his eyes, which were a little unfocused. He couldn't quite make out who it was, or perhaps he didn't believe what he was seeing. He groped for his glasses, and I put them into his hand. Harry whipped them on his face, and there really wasn't much sense in that for as soon as he fully realized it was me his eyes filled with tears and he probably couldn't see anyway. He launched himself on me, and my back creaked but I didn't care.

       The only word that was spoken was mine, and it was sorry. Harry just shook his head and hung onto me tighter. I knew he understood why I had left, and now he was just happy I was back. It was a long time before he let go, and then we all sat on one of the beds, our backs against the wall and feet over the side of the mattress, and I told them how it all happened. I told them of my animagus form, and how I couldn't transform back, and how I tried to tell them who I was. We talked late into the night, long past the time that Arthur and Molly had gone to sleep. The boys nearly woke the house when they realized that it had in fact been me chasing Molly's chickens. I had to admit, now it did seem a little funny. It was easier to laugh now. Now that we were together again.

     Late was the hour when we went to sleep. I grabbed a few blankets from the closet and slept on the floor between the two beds. I was glad that we could all be in the same room tonight, and from what I could see Harry and Draco were glad too.

    "Happy Christmas boys," I said as we were drifting off to sleep. They both grinned, and I could tell that they very much agreed with me. Just to be alive with them another day was the best gift I could ever have received.

    ***

        After Christmas dinner the boys packed up the few things they had brought to the Weasleys in preparation for us to finally return home, which was once more as it used to be, even though I hadn't been given the chance to go back and restore it. While I had yet to go return to the house, I already knew of this kind deed. This was all thanks to the Order, and I had received a little note saying that they had pitched in to clean it up and removed all traces of the incident. It did not have names on it, and was simply signed as The Order, and wished the boys and I a happy Christmas. I was touched by the gesture, for only a few years ago nobody in the Order would have done anything like that for me. It cheered me up immensely, knowing we could go home and not have to worry about the reminders of the catastrophe. Of course, at the moment another slower moving catastrophe was on my mind.

     I felt much better than I had in a while, and the coughing was improving and my dizzy spells less frequent. It was most definitely thanks to the Weasley's Wort, which I talked to Molly about. It seemed  to work when I was human as well.

    "Goodness, I'll dig up a plant for you to take home if it helps," she said, waving a soapy frying pan at me as I helped her clear the table after Christmas dinner. "That plant works wonders, and we have far too many of them growing out there."

     "Nothing has helped yet," I said, barely daring to hope. "But this, this has, even though all of my potions have either failed, or had so temporary of an effect they might as well be disregarded. It could become a possible treatment for Lethifold Syndrome; perhaps it can help others if we show one to the research department in St. Mungos ..."

      "If Weasley's Wort can help, I'd be happy to give them a few to grow more with. They do sprout up fairly quickly," she said to me. "Let me know if you find someone willing to study it."

       I told her I would, and then said goodbye. She apparently had one last thing to say.

     "Severus, could you come over here for a second?" she said. I did, wondering why.

      I cried out in surprise when she walloped me on the head with her oven mitt.

      "Hey, what was that for?" I asked indignantly, backing away before she could swing again, even though it hadn't really hurt much.

      "For chasing my chickens!" she replied before giving in to laughter.

       I couldn't think of an answer, and just stood there sheepishly as the boys piled down the stairs and she went out to dig up a plant.

        By the time we had apparated back I had a flower pot with some Weasley's Wort happily residing within. According to Molly it would grow quite fast, and each cup of tea only required a few leaves. I was dying to do some research to see if there was anything like it in the world, but I had the strangest feeling it was quite rare or even unique, for a great many weird and confusing plants sprouted up in the Weasleys' garden. Molly had wondered aloud to me if the appearance of the plant had anything to do with her knocking over a cauldron of some odd potion Fred and George had hiding behind a stack of boards near the broom shed a number of years ago. She said that it wasn't too much longer after that that she noticed the plant, which spread quite quickly and after five years of it growing, it was now all over. Apparently Molly mistook a plant for peppermint when she had a bad cold, and the rest was history. I didn't know for sure, but would not have been surprised if it really was some sort of accidental creation of the twins. Origins of the plant aside, for the moment, it seemed to be helping. But, however well it appeared to be going, I was afraid to hope. In fact, I refused to let my mind entertain the possibility that this might be the cure. I wasn't that lucky. I was a black fox, and they were hunted by all.

      January came and went. I had had to see a healer far too many times for my liking, but it was unavoidable. How else was I supposed to know if the Weasley's Wort had made as much an improvement in my illness as it seemed? There was no doubt in the least however, that it was an extraordinary plant. Already the news of Weasley's Wort was all over the research community, as so far it seemed to be making my illness back off. I felt stronger with each passing week of drinking the tea made from it. With my health, came a spark deep within me. That flickering spark was hope, and to be completely honest, I feared it. I feared to allow myself to believe in the possibility that I was going to live. So I didn't let myself. Harry was very hopeful, though he did not voice it to me. And Draco was like me. He was afraid that hope would be broken at his feet at the last possible moment, but so far that had not happened.  And still, I felt that this could not be ... that there was no way for me to be cured completely. I was not ready to step once more onto the path of life, for I had accepted my fate, and all of the repercussions that came with it. I tried to keep busy, just so I didn't have any time to let my mind wander into topics I preferred to avoid. I tore through the books in my quarters during evenings. Much of the reason for this was that, more than anything else, I was trying to keep my mind off of Laura, and what could have been if death had not been sitting outside my door for these past few months. But I could not stop my thoughts from straying to her. Every time I paused to turn the page she was there.  

      The school was abuzz with talk of the Valentine's Day Ball, which quite frankly sickened me , and made me almost hope I would be too ill to go (almost, mind you), despite Dumbledore insisting that I would have a good time. Unlike the rest of the school, I was waiting in fervent anticipation for something entirely different. Healer Phelps, when I told him of the Weasley's Wort, had told me that my illness appeared weaker. However, he had said that sometimes L.S. tended to back off for a little bit of time before it returned in greater force, though indeed the change I was experiencing was quite significant. He told me to keep taking the wort morning and evening and to return on February sixth for another check-up, and a few tests, because over the course of the month it had seemed to have disappeared completely.  Well, it was February fifth, and it felt as though a bunch of Flitwick's enchanted keys had taken up refuge in my stomach as I anxiously waited for the next day.

       It felt as though forever had come and gone by the time the sixth rolled around, and I met Healer Phelps where we always met: in Albus' quarters. It was difficult to sit still and shut up while he did all sorts of magical scans and he took a blood sample. It didn't hurt of course, but I found it interesting when he tapped the vein in my arm and a tiny little phial filled slowly with my blood. I had to admit it was a bit fascinating, though I still felt I had seen far too much of my blood in the past year for my liking. The rolls of parchment with complex data and figures were all packed away, along with the strange photos of the magical projections of my lungs that he had captured with a special roll of film and some tricky spellwork.

      "Well," he said as I looked at him expectantly, "as with the last time I was here I cannot detect any trace of the illness with what I have here, though your lungs have a little bit of scarring. I agree with you that it's most likely been the wort helping it. However, I cannot be sure it is gone. For, as I have mentioned, Lethifold Sydrome does on occasion go into periods of dormancy like this, and remains unseen until certain things are analyzed in a lab. I can't tell right now, because we'll need to mix your blood with a few potions and further examine your charts."

       "So when will I know?" I asked, trying to not to let him hear the anxiety behind my voice.

      "I'll have the results mailed out to you in about a week, give or take," Healer Phelps assured me as we walked up the staircase into Albus' office. "It will be in your hands as soon as possible. Have a nice day Severus."

      "And you," I said, and he nodded his head toward Dumbledore before throwing some floo powder into the fire and disappearing in emerald flames.

      "So, how is everything?" said Albus expectantly when we were alone at last.

       "He couldn't find any trace of it," I said. "Most of my symptoms disappeared about a month after I started taking the wort, and we increased the dosage a bit for a while before that. Phelps has to do a few tests, and the results should be mailed out to me in a week or so."

       "And how are you feeling?" Albus asked, sounding a bit tired himself.

      "Normal," I said with a sort of relieved laugh. "I feel ... great. But what about you?" I looked upon his blackened hand with concern, and noticed that his sleeve was pulled down as far as possible.

       "Managing," he said softly, though his eyes told me he wasn't doing well at all. "I should last out the year, hopefully."

        "Albus, I'm so sorry ..." I muttered. "I wish ..."

       "What, that you could have done more?"

          I nodded.

       "Severus, from the moment I put on that ring I sealed my fate, and you know that. You bought me as much time as you could." The grateful tone in his voice did not quite disguise the pain far behind it. He was afraid, and I knew it, but only because I saw  the exact thing I had been feeling the past while; that I still felt from time to time when I thought about the future, and reminded myself that I was not out of the danger zone yet.

       "What made you put it on?" I asked for a second time that year.

       "Foolishness," was all he said, and after that I knew that he did not wish to speak of it any more.

        "Thank you Albus, for everything," I said.

       He nodded, and I walked over to the door and opened it.

        "I'm sorry I must leave you," he said quietly, just as I stepped through the door. I paused, and I looked over my shoulder, and could not say a word for my voice seemed to fail. But he understood; he saw that I didn't blame him, though he did see the pain in my eyes that had risen at the thought of him being gone someday.

        I nodded, and then I shut the door quietly behind me and went down the staircase, not even dizzy. The pain in my lungs was gone, but there were little things deep inside me that hurt in a different way. I would be alright in time, if I was indeed well again.

      ***

     On the fourteenth, which was a Friday and also the day of the Ball, classes were let out a bit earlier to give students time to prepare for the evening. I myself didn't have much preparing to do, other than to shower and drag from my closet my dress robes, which perhaps might need to be shrunk just a bit. Though I had started to regain a little bit of weight I was still quite thin, and they were bound to be a little loose on me. Anyway, I had some time to spare, and I had been meaning to pay a visit to Molly. I wanted to tell her that the Weasley's Wort had been helping me greatly. I also wanted to inform her that I had caught wind of something quite interesting the other day when talking with Healer Phelps during my check-up. According to him the research department at St. Mungos found her plant extremely interesting, and because of its value in the medical community was considering paying the Weasleys for more plants, and the right to grow more of them, as they were indeed unique. They had not said how much, but I was hopeful that the research department would go through with it.

       I arrived at the Burrow, and Molly greeted me warmly at the door. She ushered me in and made tea, and we soon were immersed deep in a conversation about the Weasley's Wort. She was extremely glad it was helping, and she even mentioned I looked better. I told her that I would feel one hundred percent only when I knew the results. They were due any day, and the gnawing feeling in my gut that something was going to show up last minute made my insides ache with unspoken fear. What if the illness came back? What if Healer Phelps had missed something? Those were the reasons why I had not allowed myself to hope. Molly listened to the concerns that I shared, and while we did not spend too much time on them I appreciated the fact that she really heard me. She listened, and took it to heart. That was one thing I greatly respected Molly for: she was always able to lend an ear and make you feel like you were properly heard. Despite her great listening skills, the subject was changed fairly quickly to avoid such dark thoughts, and instead we began to talk of other things.

        "Ginny's been mailing me quite often, talking of the Valentine's Day Ball," Molly said in amusement. "She's quite excited."

       I grimaced.

      "You're not I take it?" She chuckled a little bit.

      "No. Albus made sure that all the supervision duties were taken care of behind my back," I said a little bitterly. "Which means I'm destined to look like a fool at some point during the night."

       "Oh I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. "Are you taking anyone?"

      I raised my eyebrow.

      "Alright, alright, it was a silly question," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're not going to leave your hair like that, though, are you?" Her question annoyed me a little.

      "Well, I'll wash it," I said scathingly.

     "No, no," she said, waving her hand to dismiss my comment, "I mean that you could use a haircut. A new look could be good for you."

      "No."

      "Oh come on, I've gotten pretty good, what with practising on seven children."

       I stared at her blankly.

      "You can grow it back with magic if you hate it," Molly muttered, looking a little exasperated. "Trust me, she'll think it looks great."

     "And who is this she?" I asked, knowing exactly who she was talking about.

     "Laura, silly," Molly said with a twinkle in her eye. "She's one of the few members of the faculty around your age. I'm sure you'll want to dance with her at least once. Or talk to somebody who isn't as old as the hills."

     "No. Well ... fine. Do your worst," I drawled, pretending to be extremely displeased but actually only being a little bit so.

     She whipped her wand out of her apron. She then summoned an old sheet, which she draped over my shoulders.

     "Just ... don't cut it too short," I said. "I like it longer."

     "Yes, easier to hide, I know," she said absentmindedly. I spun around, and she looked at me knowingly.

      I scowled and looked forward once more without saying anything, and gritted my teeth as she set to work with her wand. Pieces of my hair fell to the floor and onto my shoulders. It made me rather nervous, and I found it a bit difficult to keep my eyes open as I heard the slicing sound of the cutting charm. But I hoped that it would turn out alright.

     "Trust me, you'll look quite handsome when I'm through with you," she said, noticing my unease.

      Twenty minutes later I drew in a deep breath and she held a small mirror in front of my long nose. I was surprised.

      "Er, it actually ... looks good," I said honestly, breathing a sigh of relief.

     "Yes, I threw some layers into it," she said. "Your hair is actually quite thick you know. I would have liked to have cut it shorter."  

      I told her I was glad she didn't, and then continued to examine my reflection in surprise. The back was a little bit longer than the front, and it flipped up just a little bit at the ends. It actually looked good, and to tell the truth it was a nice change. It was a fair bit shorter too, and at its longest point in the back was about three quarters of the way down my neck. It felt weirdly light.

     "That will catch her eye, I guarantee," said Molly, and I didn't even bother to defend myself. Whatever. Molly was just Molly sometimes. "What are you planning on wearing?."

      "Dress robes ... what else would I wear?"

      "No no, what colour are they?"

     "Black." As if anyone expected me to wear any other colour.

      "Hmm," Molly said thoughtfully. She was looking at me as though I was a hopeless case.

      "What's wrong with black?" I asked a little defensively, taking her expression as an insult.

       "Oh there isn't anything wrong with the colour really ... but you look so depressed in black. It makes your pale skin look paler, and then you look sick. You'll look much healthier in a different colour."

       "I look depressed no matter what I wear," I said, rolling my eyes as she waved her wand to sweep up the hair. "And I'm supposed to be dying, remember? I somehow doubt any other colour is going to make me look too much healthier."

       "Oh I don't know ... it would be a bit funny to see the students' faces if you showed up in a different colour, nothing drastic. Navy, perhaps?"

      Okay, she had a point. It would be hilarious. Not to mention, none of the faculty had seen me wear anything but black. She smirked, knowing she found just the point to throw at me to convince me. She was freakishly good at persuading people. Seven children will do that to you, I suppose, I thought.

      "I only own black dress robes," I pointed out to her.

     "Lucky for you I know a spell to alter the colour. In a family of nine you have to learn to make clothing last and work for all occasions. Why don't you get them and I'll show you?"

      "Do I have a choice?" I said, rather amused actually.

     "Of course not." Her eyes were laughing. I really did want to see the spell done however, as I never did master colour changing spells. They were quite difficult to pull off well, as you had to get the fibres properly dyed throughout. So it was with quite a bit of curiosity that I laid my dress robes over the chair when I returned after flooing back. I had wrapped them in an old cloak of mine to keep any ash from getting on them. I folded it up and put it off to the side.

     "Watch this," she said with enthusiasm. She waved her wand, and I watched as a dark blue blot began at the hem, and then slowly bled into the black and swirled up to the top of the robes. It took a moment or two, and when she was finished with the spell I snatched up the fabric to examine it, my nose nearly touching it as I studied the fibres.

     "This is incredible," I muttered. "How did you learn how to do this so well?"

     "Years of practice," she said, and by the tone of her voice I could tell this was no understatement.

      The colour suited the robes well, and I was debating actually keeping them that way, if only for a night.

      "Trust me, they'll look great. Your hair is so black the light reflects off it a dark blue, and with the navy robes you'll look very sharp."

       "Well, I might as well not let all your work go to waste ..." I muttered, trying to sound reluctant. She just shook her head in exasperation.

       "So, do the boys have dates to the ball?" she asked, clearly giving up on trying to get me one.

       "Well, Draco and Hermione are going together, naturally."

        "Ah yes, that's right," Molly replied. "And Harry?"

        "As for Harry, who knows ... he's got his eye on someone, but I only have theories." I paused for a moment, reflecting on how cautious he had been as of late on the topic of the Valentine's Day Ball. "I suppose I'll see tonight, assuming she said yes."

      "Well let's hope he doesn't fancy that girl Pansy Parkinson," joked Molly. "I've heard a little bit too much from my boys on just how horrid she is."

       "Merlin forbid," I muttered, not finding it quite as funny as Molly. "That would be a scandal and a half." Luckily I believed Harry to have better taste than that.

       "Well, I'd say you should get going if you're going to get ready on time," said Molly, looking at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

      "It's six-o-clock!" I said in disbelief. "I've got two hours."

      "Oh yes, but you'll want to practice your dance moves," she said with amusement.

      "Or lack there-of," I scoffed before walking over to the floo.

       "You can't dance?"

      "Well ... I can a little ... my mother taught me the summer I was thirteen," I said. "I have a long memory. I'll be fine."

      "Are you sure, I can teach you -" she said.

 I was a bit slow getting ready for the ball, simply because in many ways I didn't want it to come, for I was secretly petrified of what others would think. I was very good at convincing the world that I didn't care what people thought of me, but a lot of the time, I wasn't so good at convincing myself. For someone who had dressed and worn his hair the same for as long as I had, it seemed insane to me that I had changed that. Of course, this was not my only reason for being slow. The second one was probably what was holding me back most, actually. And the reason was that I was afraid look in the mirror once I had put on my dress robes. What if I saw not myself, but a near skeleton, like when I had examined my reflection before Christmas? What if I still looked like I was dying? What if the letter came and said I was still dying? But time was running short and the doors opened in the Great Hall in ten minutes. I hated being late. So, taking a deep breath, I ripped off the sheet I had covered my cracked floor mirror with. I forced myself to open my reluctant eyes.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The navy dress robes did look sharp, and while they were a bit loose around the shoulders and chest, they were not near as much so as they would have been a month and a half ago. I did a quick spell to fix that before continuing to examine my reflection. My hair looked good too - different, but I was liking it more and more.

I jumped slightly when an owl tapped the tiny window in my bedroom. I went over to open the window. It creaked loudly as I wondered why the owl would bring me my mail now, and not in the morning like all the other letters that were sent. The owl passed me the letter, and I gave it an owl treat from the little box by the window. It hooted happily, and I stared down at the thick envelope.

My heart hammered, and I had to sit down on the foot of my bed. With shaking fingers I ripped the envelope open. I pushed aside a few charts that had little labels on them saying they were to go into my medical file in Poppy's cabinets, and then I found the piece of thick parchment I was looking for.

Severus,

I have finished analyzing your test results. There was no trace of Lethifold Syndrome in your body, and the tests taken of your magical signature show no trace of it either, as a serious illness would normally present itself in some way deep within it. The Weasley's Wort clearly has invaluable properties, and while I cannot quite ascertain what it was precisely about the plant that caused your illness to retreat, I am proud to say that you are cured. Sometimes, when there are small traces of a serious illness left within someone's magical signature, it may come back. As your magical signature shows no traces of Lethifold Syndrome, I strongly believe that this means you will not experience a relapse.

Congratulations!

Sincerely,

Benjamin Phelps

In shock, the letter fell from my fingertips, but I caught it before it could hit the ground. Cured, cured ... I was cured! I couldn't believe it. What had I done to deserve to be this lucky? I didn't know, but I was unable to keep from grinning as I carefully folded the letter and stowed it deep in my dress robes. I didn't have to fear that I was dying now; I didn't have to distance myself from people; I didn't have to worry about leaving Draco and Harry hurting any more than they already did.

After that letter it seemed positively easy to walk down to the Great Hall, when before it had seemed like I had to go over oceans to do so. I arrived in fairly good time, though the doors had opened already. It looked as though it had only been about five minutes since they did. A few stragglers were coming down the staircase, but the hall was relatively filled. Through the wide open doorway I could see that there were small tables scattered throughout the room, just like there had been during the Yule Ball. As I grew closer to the open doors, I could see that the Great Hall was decked out in burgundy and many different shades of red. I stepped over the threshold, and saw heads turning every way as I walked to the front of the hall, where the long table for the staff was located. I smirked. As I travelled across the Great Hall I caught sight of the table where Harry and Draco were sitting. Harry and Ginny Weasley were sitting together. At the same table sat Draco and Hermione, and Ron, who was with some other girl I did not recall the name of. Harry caught my eye and did a discreet thumbs up and gestured to his hair. I knew what he meant, and with difficulty I held back a chuckle. It was just like Harry to use some form of crazy sign language as a means of complimenting someone.

I walked up to the top table. There was only one empty seat, and I was quite delighted at where it was. I didn't even try to quash my silly thoughts, which suddenly didn't seem so silly. And who said black foxes are unlucky?

The staff looked shocked to see me in something besides black, but most didn't say anything, though quite a few stared unashamedly. Ignoring the looks, I took the seat next to Laura. She looked very beautiful, her brown hair framing her face and cascading over her shoulders. It was quite different from the way she usually wore her hair, as she had to pull it back for her duties as a matron. Of course it looked good then, but this was a nice change from the usual. Her crimson dress robes suited her well, and brought out the pink in her cheeks.

"You got a haircut," she pointed out cheerfully once I had sat down next to her.

"Molly Weasley cornered me when I dropped by earlier," I said.

"I don't find that hard to believe," she said with a laugh that sounded like bells. "I'm going to take a guess and say the blue robes were her doing as well."

"Well deducted," I said with a slight shake of my head, though I was rather amused myself. "If I might say so, you look very nice yourself.

"Thank you Severus," she said with a smile that made me want to melt in my chair. I didn't quite register the fact that Minerva and Albus watching the two of us out of the corners of their eyes.

Not long after my arrival we all got started on our meals. I paid more attention the conversation I was having with Laura than my food, and by the time the shining plates had disappeared I had pretty much forgotten what I had eaten. I was too cheerful to even deny it, for I was going to live. I had a future to look forward to.

The tables slid magically to the side when everyone got up, and all of the people stood along the sides of the hall. The band struck up a slow tune, and Minerva and Albus led the way and were the first on the floor. I watched as Ginny and Harry followed suit, as well as a number of others. The rest of the students slowly trickled onto it as well. I turned to Laura beside me. I was surprised to find that she too had turned her eyes away from the floor. She was looking straight into my eyes. 

"Do you want to dance?" we asked each other in almost perfect unison. She blushed, and I imagine I went a little red as well.

The both of us smiling just a little, I took her hand and we took a place on the dance floor. I really don't think either of us noticed the many stares, which came from students and staff alike.

I was surprised to find that our strides seemed to fit together somehow, and make dancing easier so that it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Despite this, the two of us were still a little clumsy, and Laura was the first to step on my feet. It seemed funny to the both of us, however.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "How are your toes?"

"Oh they'll be fine, besides, I'll pay you back in time, if I'm a betting man." She relaxed at this and instead looked a little amused, and I lifted my arm for her to turn in time to the music. Her hair shone in the light, and the glittering hem of her robe fluttered by her ankles when she turned.

The evening seemed to pass in a blur, the both of us on and off the dance floor. The crescent moon was shining way up in the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, reflecting off the shimmering pieces of burgundy material that were draped through the rafters. We talked of whatever we wanted to talk about, and the conversation flowed easily as the hour grew later, and after a while we simply glanced up at the starry ceiling, thinking. I couldn't help but recall the night on the Astronomy tower, and how the world seemed so different tonight than it had been then.

"They're so beautiful, aren't they, the stars?" whispered Laura after a long silence between us, filled by the music from the band.

"I find I appreciate them more and more," I said pensively, also glancing upward at the starry ceiling.

"Why is that?"

Now, it didn't seem so hard, thinking of just why that was. It didn't seem so complicated. I didn't have to be afraid to hurt her. So I let the words flow from my mouth like I had wanted them to for a long time now, but had never had the courage to do do so. "I wasn't sure how much time left I would have to appreciate things like the stars." I paused for a moment, but continued with the questioning look she gave me. "In November I was told I only had seven months to live," I said slowly. Her eyes widened, and she looked horrified. "Don't worry," I said hastily, shocked by her expression. "I'm fine now. Today I got the news that the illness is gone completely. I'm going to live." I couldn't help but smile at the last part.

"That explains so much," she said in a hushed voice, now looking relieved. "I thought there was something more going on, but I really didn't want to pry ... "

I must admit, I was surprised. I had thought Minerva would have told Laura about my illness as soon as she found out. Then again, perhaps she felt that I would tell her when I was ready. I appreciated that.

"Well, you were right," I muttered. "My cough wasn't a cold, like I told you. I just ... I couldn't find the words to say what it really was."

"What were you sick with, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind. I was told I had Lethifold Syndrome."

"Hmm ... they mentioned it briefly when I took my healing course," she said, clearly thinking hard. She paused a moment before continuing. "But there isn't a cure, is there? I mean, that's what they said. I think. Mind you, that was five years ago that I took the course."

"No, you are correct. There wasn't a cure, but we are pretty sure we just discovered it, growing in Molly Weasley's back garden of all places." I almost laughed with relief at the thought of all. It sounded unbelievable, even to my ears.

"You're kidding," she said, looking bemused.

"No, I'm not," I assured her. Laura's eyes widened once she had determined I was entirely serious. "She calls it Weasley's Wort. It's a bit of a long story how we did find out it worked for Lethifold Syndrome."

"I'd love to hear it some time," she said with interest. And I told her I would tell it someday if she wanted.

I looked at the big enchanted clock that had been placed at the front of the hall for the night. It was a complicated, elegant device of many charms, courtesy of Flitwick. But I did not think of that at the moment, for it was nearing midnight, and things were almost starting to wrap up. Laura looked to the clock as well, noticing where my gaze had wandered to.

"I think this is the last dance," she said as I faltered in saying the same thing.

"Then we haven't any time to waste, do we?" I recovered, holding out my hand for her to take. We smiled hesitantly at each other and then took the floor for the last time.

There were a few people resting their feet along the sidelines, though the floor was still fairly full. But I barely noticed all of that. As Laura and I stepped along to the music I couldn't believe that I had once hated dancing. It wasn't so bad at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. After a while it seemed as though the whole hall had disappeared, and that it was just the two of us, and all the stars up above. I couldn't take my eyes off of hers. It was lucky that by now I didn't even have to think about where my feet where, or where we were in relation to other people. It was like it had become instinct, so much so, that we moved across the floor with a grace I had never known before. It was a long time before either of us seemed to register the fact that we found ourselves growing closer together. I made no move to stop it, and neither did Laura as the song began to come to a close, though I wished for it to go on forever.

That of course, was when I did something crazy. Insane, really. Perhaps it was the fact that I had forgotten we were in the middle of a crowded hall, or maybe it was because all the Cruciatus curses I had taken over the years had destroyed the rational part of my brain in regards to cause and effect. But of all these things, I think the most likely cause for my sudden bravery (or insanity, not sure which) was that I knew I actually had a future, and that a brush so close with death made me realize how fragile life is. Yet in all of the fragility of it, I suddenly saw that sometimes you have to risk things falling apart, risk shattering what you so carefully stand upon. And so, all possible reasons aside, I leaned forward, and I kissed her. To my surprise Laura responded, and like that we remained, and all I knew was the feeling of her arm on my shoulder, and the softness of her hand on my neck, and the warmth of her other hand in mine. We broke apart after what felt like a thousand wonderful days, and only then did we look around and remember where we were.

Laura giggled a little, and I held back the odd urge to laugh; despite the fact that half the hall was staring at us open mouthed, for some unknown reason all I could think was how funny the situation was. The final note from the band shuddered to a halt, and hand in hand we rushed away into the crowd, eyes gleaming and feeling like we stole something. As we did so I saw Harry and Draco staring, dumbstruck, and Hermione looking as though she were about to say ‘‘‘I told you so". Laura and I looked at each other for a second as the hall began to empty for the night and the clock struck midnight. We just about ran into Albus and Minerva, who were standing only a little ways away along the side of the Great Hall. We hesitated for a moment, for Minerva looked quite disgruntled, although she didn't see us. Laura cringed slightly beside me. We looked at each other in worry, and then back at them, just in time to see Minerva drop a galleon into Albus' outstretched palm. Laura and I gaped at them. Then, we both started to walk over to them. I sensed that they were not angry at us in the least, oddly enough.

"Did you two have a wager going?" I inquired disbelievingly, throwing them a look of exasperation similar to the one Laura was giving them. The looks on both of our faces must have been quite funny, now that I think of it.

"Just a friendly bet," said Albus a little smugly, pocketing the galleon.

"I didn't think they would actually kiss with everyone watching," said Minerva scathingly to Albus. Laura and fought to keep our faces straight, though neither of us could stop from going a little red. "I didn't think they were that stupid."

"We've had a wager going for quite some time on how you two would admit your feelings," Albus explained in amusement as though it was the most common place thing in the world. "Minerva thought we would quietly find out that you two had finally confessed how you felt. I made a bet that we would find out in a slightly more obvious way, such as that display of unprofessionalism that took place a few moments ago. It was only a matter of time before you two broke, really."

The both of us cringed, waiting for the lecture and retribution.

"Oh, don't look so worried ... I won, so you're off the hook!" said Albus in good humour, making my eyes widen in surprise. Minerva rolled her eyes and walked away. "It's about time that you two have stopped being in denial. Especially you Severus. Happy Valentine's day."

And then he followed after her, leaving Laura and I standing there in a rather punch-drunk manner.

"He's absolutely batty," said Laura in awestruck respect.

"Quite," I muttered rather happily in return.

"Was it that obvious that we ... you know, fancied each other?"

"Apparently so ..." I muttered, though I was more surprised than irritated. I was personally on top of the world. No, the universe.

A few minutes later I walked Laura back to her quarters, which were located not too far from the hospital wing. We said goodnight, both unable to hold back our surprised but delighted looks at the outcome of the events tonight, and then I walked down to my quarters. Despite my years of navigating corridors without paying any attention at all, I almost took a wrong turn, as I was still engulfed in a bubble of joyful surprise.

      When I finally reached my destination, I found Harry and Draco standing outside my office. I had been expecting to find them somewhere near here, and so I opened the door and we all went in to where we could talk.

"Er, hi Dad," said Harry.

"Hello," I said, feeling a little bit nervous. What would they think of it all? I cared much more of their opinions than Albus and Minerva's.

"It's okay, we're happy for you," said Draco immediately, to my surprise. Then, he pulled a face. "But ... that was a little gross. Could you not ... you know, not do that again in public?"

"So long as you and Hermione don't kiss around me," I said in amusement, relieved they were not upset about it. Draco blushed at my comment.

"But you have a bad habit of showing up when we are," said Draco under his breath. Harry and I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"No promises then," I said before turning to Harry, raising my eyebrow and feeling rather pleased that I finally knew who it was he had been wanting to ask. "So, Ginny Weasley?"

He nodded nervously.

"And here I was worried you fancied Pansy Parkinson," I joked. Harry let out a sigh of relief. It had obviously been weighing on his mind that I wouldn't approve. Funny how we all seemed to be that way, one time or another.

"Anyway, the main thing we came down here to ask you was if you got the letter," Draco said in a hushed voice. I was not surprised, for they had been coming down for the last few evenings to ask me the same question.

"I did," I said, pulling it out of the pocket of my dress robes.

I handed it to them, and they both scanned the letter with fervent eyes. Harry was the first to finish, and it took a moment for him to truly register that I was in fact going to live. When he did Draco had finished as well, and they both whooped and shouted and made a racket to celebrate. I didn't scold them. If there was any good reason out there for making a lot of noise, this was it. When they calmed down a little we all stood quietly in my office, silent looks of relief and gratitude upon our faces.

We were all exhausted, and so I soon made to send them off to their respective common rooms.

"Can I tell you something Dad?" asked Harry, just before he followed Draco out the door.

"Go on," I said.

"I really like Miss Baldwin," he said quietly, smiling.

"Can I tell you something Harry?" I said.

He nodded.

"I really like her too," I whispered back to him.

With a grin he was out the door. I watched as he neared the corridor intersecting the one my office was in, and just before he turned he flashed me one last big smile, his hair sticking up in the back like it always did. The image stuck in my mind as I fell asleep that night, and the last thought that went through my head was that I was the luckiest man in the world.

The end of the year came quickly, but seemed strangely uneventful after all that had happened. There were only a few things that really stood out in my mind, and many of those were Harry and Draco's pranks, which had gradually returned after they had found out my health had rebounded. It was a sign of normalcy, and it made those days seem almost like they used to be. Yet, there were some things I knew would never be the same, and one of them was me. But this was good. Laura had quickly become my confidant, and I hers. We had spent many hours walking the grounds together, having tea, and chasing after Harry and Draco when their pranks happened to coincide with the previous two. We became fast friends, and companions. I now lived to see her face in the morning at breakfast, to see her smile. Those days were the happiest I had had yet, with Laura, Harry, and Draco all in the castle at the same time. But the year was quickly coming to a close, and I knew that it had to bring change for my boys, and myself. For, despite my miracle, Albus had not been given one, and he did not have much time left. I wondered how long it would be until Harry realized it, and sought to begin the mission that Albus had been carefully educating him for. All of these things swirled within my mind, arranging themselves into a complex web as I made my way up to Albus' office the afternoon before the closing feast.

Up the spiral staircase and onto the landing I went, where I politely knocked on the door. I heard him say "come in", and I entered. Albus sat behind his desk, looking somehow smaller than he used to be. Despite the new lines on his face and the now limp arm at his side, he beckoned cheerfully with his good hand for me to sit. A pot of tea awaited us on the table, and a little bowl of sherbet lemons sat on his desk, as always. He smiled at me a moment before speaking, and I let myself relax and enjoy the comfort of his presence.

"You look good, my boy," he said softly upon seeing the healthy tinge of colour my skin had gained, and the slight spark behind my eyes that had been lacking for so many years.

"Well, I feel good, mostly," I said in reply, and we both knew that I meant that I felt fine aside from Albus' declining health, and Harry's looming mission. Of course, neither of us spoke of this.

He smiled, and I lifted the teapot and poured him a cup of tea before pouring my own. He thanked me and dropped a few lumps of sugar in it with a shaky hand.

"How are the boys?"

"Good," I replied. "They would like to send their condolences for the runaway turkey incident; here's their written apology in fact." I put the letter on the desk for Albus to consult later. "They meant for it to stay in Sybil's tower, so that she would find it when she returned from her rare expedition to Hogsmeade for incense. Of course, it found a way out."

"I did get a pretty good laugh out of it, actually, watching you chase it past my office," said Albus, eyes twinkling merrily. "The racket was quite delightful. How are you, after all of that?"

"Stiff," I said, quite displeased about the whole ordeal. "Not that you would ask if you didn't already know."

He chuckled at that.

"Enough about me, how have you been?" I asked.

"Alright, considering."

I had expected that.

"In other news ... have you managed to restore your reputation yet?" asked Albus, amused. "It has been some time ..."

"You'd think the students would just forget about that, it's been at least four months."

"If you wanted to remain scary you should have asked Harry to give Miss Weasley that kitten. Even if she was the kind soul who looked after you while you were at the Burrow."

"Both Harry and Draco were getting their burns mended after they set off those fireworks, remember? And, naturally, Hermione was visiting them too, so I couldn't very well ask her to go up to Gryffindor tower, could I? Besides, Hagrid was out for the day and the kitten would otherwise have been alone. Might as well have found it a home that day."

"Ah yes," he said. "Was that the last of them? I thought you were going to keep one. I daresay Munkastrap probably wouldn't have minded."

"No, he wouldn't have. But, you see, I've decided instead to let the stray female cat Buttercup live with us. Now that I've given her that potion to keep us from ending up with more kittens, that is. Munk is over the moon about it."

"Yes, I am sure he is. That was very kind of you to give that cat to Miss Weasley by the way."

I dismissed it with a wave of my hand. "I overheard Molly saying to Miss Weasley that magical cats were too expensive for her to get one, and I did owe them for helping me to regain my health. Well, them and Black, but I sent him a bottle of firewhisky rather than a cat. Though no doubt he would have had fun traumatizing it." Both Albus and I paused to savour the amusement of such a thought.

"Well, I doubt Molly and Arthur will have near as much trouble affording things now," Albus said, face shining with happiness. "There could not have been a family more deserving.

I nodded in agreement. The research department at St. Mungo's had recently given the Weasley's a fair bit of money for the permission to grow Weasley's Wort, and administer it for treatment of all manner of illnesses, along with royalties for sales of the plants. Molly and Aurthur had been hesitant to take it, but the researchers insisted due to the outstanding properties of the plant. It was unique after all, and so a find like that was incredible. For some time we simply sat there, thinking happily of how much easier it would be for the Weasleys from then on, but after a while, my mind turned to other things.

"What did you and Harry do on that excursion last month?" I asked suddenly, for I had been pondering this for a long time, and just what had caused Albus to be so ill upon their return baffled me. "What happened there?"

"That's for Harry and I to know, and you to find out only when Tom Riddle is long gone."

"I thought you'd say that."

"I only refuse to say because I care about you Severus," he said softly. "You know that."

I nodded.

Albus, clearly trying to steer me toward a less risky subject, said, "What are you planning for this summer?"

"Oh I don't know," I began slowly, "perhaps I'll show Laura that blackberry patch down by the house, and take her berry picking. She's rather outdoorsy. But I'll probably spend as much time with the boys as I can. I somehow doubt Harry will be back next year, and if I'm a betting man Draco will want to go with him." I sighed. "I don't know if I'll be able to refrain from trying to stop them going on that mission you've planned out for him. But then again, how could I stop them from doing it? It's their choice in the end, they'll be of age."

"Take it all one step at a time, remember Severus," said Albus, looking weary.

"It will be very difficult letting them go, that is for sure," I muttered, "and lonely."

"Yes, getting used to their absence will be hard."

"It will be. Thank Merlin I have Laura. She keeps me sane, that is certain. I can't help but wonder how I ever got on without her." I looked down at the worn wood on the desk for a moment, getting lost in my thoughts.

Albus' eyes began to twinkle furiously, and he barely held back a smile. "Is she the one?" he asked curiously.

It took me a moment to reply, not because I was unsure, but I was afraid that if I spoke it aloud she would somehow be snatched away from me like so many other good things in my life. But I had hope. "I think so," I said finally, not looking Albus in the eye because I knew I would be unable to hold back the rather silly smile if I did.

"Make sure she knows how much you appreciate her," advised Albus.

"Oh, I tell her all the time," I assured him, and I was being honest too.

A thin smile played about Albus' face.

"Do you regret it Albus, never marrying?" I asked curiously.

"I have greater things to regret than unfulfilled love," he replied cryptically, and that was all he said.

"I suppose most seem rather dull in comparison to your genius," I said thoughtfully once I saw he was not going to expand upon his statement.

"Brilliance can sometimes be a curse, I must admit." He looked wistfully toward the window, which had been opened to allow the warm summery breeze to float into the office.

I was silent for a while, and the both of us simply stared out at the blue sky.

"I never really did wish to be married, Severus," he said in time, "though years ago I do admit I often wondered what it would be like to be a father. But it has been many years since I felt a longing for that."

"Whatever changed?"

"Well, I have you now, don't I?" he said simply.

I sat stock still in my seat as warmth slowly filled me up. I always knew he was very fond of me, and cared for me deeply. I even suspected that he thought me as a son, but to hear him say it was something different entirely.

Stuttering, I searched for words.

"Oh you need not say anything," he said. "I already know that you care for me."

I closed my mouth, and went a little red. I never was good with words in moments such as this one. He chuckled.

"Have you got everything packed up for the summer?" Albus inquired.

"No, I still have to do that." I let out a quiet sigh of regret, knowing that it was inevitable that I would have to leave the serenity of his office and go sort through my quarters. "Now that you mention it, I suppose I should be going. I have to shrink a few of my cauldrons and get them packed away too."

"Well, thank you for joining me for tea, my boy."

"Thank you for the invite," I said gratefully. "It was nice to catch up. Things have been a little bit busy, what with exams."

Then, as he always did at some point during a visit with me, he asked, "Would you like a Sherbet Lemon, for the way back?"

I thought for a second, and despite the fact that I had never said so before, I replied, "I would, thank you."

His eyes filled with tears as I slowly picked one up out of the bowl, put it in my mouth, and got up and walked to the door. He smiled as I opened it. I inclined my head briefly before softly shutting the door behind me. On the landing I paused for just a second, the bittersweet flavour of the sherbet lemon upon my tongue.

That was the last time Albus and I spoke before he died. It could not have been on a more beautiful day that he had been discovered, lying peacefully upon the sofa in his office, the window open, having passed away in the middle of an afternoon nap. We were first told by Minerva, who had walked through the wards and down the little road to our house, where Harry, Draco and I were sitting out on the porch enjoying the sunshine. And as I suspected, it was not long after that Harry informed me that he, Draco, Hermione, and Ron would not be returning to Hogwarts the next year.

The day they left my heart pounded in fear, as I watched the four figures walking with rucksacks down the road from the house, each of them looking back one last time before they disapparated. Yet, I was not alone in this worry, and Laura told me this silently by taking my rough hand in her soft one. And so at that moment I was reminded that I was not the only one that did not know how this would end, or how it would all turn out, or even if we could all hold together. We didn't know then that everything would be alright, that one day there would be peace in the Wizarding world, and hope once more in a future none of us could imagine right then, for we weren't even sure if those four teenagers would come back. But they would, and they did. They were always meant to, some way or another. We didn't know any of this then, but I assure you there did come a day when we did know, and in the end, that was all that mattered.