The students were mercifully quiet, as they made their slow way to the hospital wing.  Severus leaned heavily on the levitating stretcher, confident in Miss Lloyd’s spell.  She was in his seventh year potions seminar, with ambitions to be a healer and therefore, was actually a useful pair of hands in this little party.  He was very grateful that Miss Lloyd was such a competent girl, for a Gryffindor.

He wanted to sleep for a week, but naturally no such thing was possible for some hours, yet.  The headmaster would have to send an owl to Saint Mungo’s to request a healer.  Miss Weasley would not be able to be moved for several days, at least.

This was not the first near-suicide in his tenure at Hogwarts, but it was rare to have such an obvious one in Gryffindor.  They tended to be a little cagier about their self destructive tendencies.  Dares and foolish risks were their more usual maneuvers.  Then, if they failed, it was all merely a joke.

A Peace Draught was complicated, for a second year.  He wondered how she’d learned to make it.  It was a fourth year potion and the child must have ingested about a gallon of it, to have stopped her heart. That, or she had found, and followed, the instructions to reduce it, under the light of a full moon.  The full moon had risen a few hours ago tonight. There would have been time.  

The instructions for that variation weren’t available, except to seventh years.  The process wasn’t difficult, nor the knowledge restricted, but it would have required some digging to find;  the variation was generally only used for those who required it for specific circumstances.

Severus knew that this had been no mere gesture. The child had meant it.  Whatever pain she was suffering, she was serious that she wanted it to end. Miss Weasley had gone about it with all the determination of a Hufflepuff, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw and the deviousness of a Slytherin.  


Dumbledore had conjured a stretcher for Minerva; she was already asleep on it.  He had offered to conjure one for Severus, but his expression must have been answer enough for the headmaster.  Poppy had similarly glared daggers at Dumbledore, before requesting loudly that a house elf bring herself and Severus a Pepper Up potion from the hospital wing.

It was a good thing she had.  It hadn’t occurred to Severus, at all (a testament to his weariness) and he would not have made it without one.

“Make some good, strong coffee, perhaps Turkish, and bring some food, as well.  Severus likes scones.  I’d like some meat pies,” Poppy said to the house elf, before it popped off, “And chocolate, some sandwiches, and...Oh, just bring up a whole tray. Enough for all of us. We’ll be starving. You know what we like.”

It had taken a few more moments for Miss Lloyd to help he and Poppy maneuver Miss Weasley’s stretcher out of the portrait hole. Severus was looking forward to a cup of that coffee.

“Why would she do something like that?” one of the Weasley brothers asked in a whisper, finally.

“I don’t know.” sighed Dumbledore,  he was walking alongside Minerva’s stretcher, behind Severus, Poppy and Miss Lloyd who had Miss Weasley’s, “I would like to talk to all of you, before Miss Weasley wakes up, Perhaps we can find some clue.”

“Do you think You-Know-Who could be still possessing her?” one of the other boys asked.  Severus was too tired to keep track.

“No, Mr Weasley,” replied the headmaster, gently, “Although, I do believe that very likely has something to do with it.”

“She will be all right, though?” Granger asked, her voice sounded incongruously cool and serene

“Thanks to your quick thinking, Miss Granger, and Miss Lloyd’s, yes.”  Dumbledore said, “Where did you learn that particular Muggle technique?”

“Mum and Dad made me take a Red Cross class, last summer.” Granger replied, quietly, “I thought it was stupid at the time.  How many wizards have heart attacks? But, Mum said I had to.”

“And Miss Lloyd?”

“I’m Muggleborn too, Professor, remember?” the blond girl replied, “I took it when I started minding my niece.  My sister wouldn’t let me, until I took child and infant CPR and the rest.  She’s really fussy.” Lloyd said shyly.

“Hm.  I suppose points to Gryffindor are in order, then,” twinkled the headmaster, even given the grimness of the situation.

“I’d say bloody special award, for not allowing another fucking ghost to be added to this bloody, fucking school.” muttered Severus.  Poppy and Miss Lloyd glanced at him.  Poppy in amusement, Lloyd in shock.

Had he said that out loud? Merlin, he must be tired.  He’d be sounding like his father coming off a shift, in a minute.  Resolutely, he decided to keep his mouth shut, until he had a strong cup of coffee in him and at least another Pepper Up.

Pomona came bustling down the corridor with Potter in tow.  It appeared the boy had some presence of mind.

“Severus!  Poppy!  Mr. Potter told me Miss Weasley was hurt?” She took in the two stretchers and the whole cavalcade of them.

“We had to use Tribuo Vita, Pomona” Poppy said, softly,  “Minerva’s knackered.  Severus and I aren’t far behind.”

Pomona’s eyes widened, “Right then.  The three of you, into bed.” she ordered, matter of factly,  “I’ll look after the patient.  I’ve already owled St Mungo’s; from what Mr. Potter told me, we’ll need a couple of their healers.” Pomona took Poppy’s arm and gestured to Lloyd to bring Miss Weasley’s stretcher along.  The four Weasley boys followed it.  

Severus let go of the stretcher and realized that was, perhaps, not a wise idea.  He felt his legs tremble, so he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.  

Someone grabbed his elbow, steadying him, guiding him into a chair that someone must have conjured. Small hands.  Severus cracked his eyes open, realizing the hands belonged to Potter.  Damn him.

“Are you all right?” the boy asked, sounding concerned.

“Fine.” grunted Severus.  The headmaster must have conjured the chair.  It was his signature squashy armchair sort of thing.  

There was no urgency for Severus to get into the hospital wing.  They would do well enough on their own for a few minutes.  He closed his eyes again, waiting for the weakness to pass.

A small noise let him know that Potter was still there.

Why was the damned boy still standing there?  Couldn’t he go offer comfort or support or whatever to the other Weasleys?

“What, Potter?” Severus growled, leaning his head back.

“Can I get you something?” Potter asked, softly.

“Some of that coffee Madam Pomfrey ordered.  With a lot of sugar.  Five or six teaspoons, at least.” Severus replied, without opening his eyes.  If he gave the brat something to do, he wouldn’t stand there, staring at him.

It seemed merely a second before the unmistakable smell of coffee, redolent with the smell of cinnamon and cardamon, roused Severus from his almost-doze.  He opened his eyes with an effort.

“Sir?” Potter held out an absolutely enormous cup of coffee, “Professor Sprout said it already had sugar in it and it didn’t need milk.  Professor Dumbledore wants to know if you need him to come and fetch you.”

“Absolutely not.” Severus tried to snarl, but it was only an irritable mutter.  He took the mug of coffee in both hands, gulping it down, even though it was hot enough to burn his tongue.  Inwardly he nodded approval.  It was thick Turkish stuff, boiled with the sugar in it.  Hot as hell, black as the devil, sweet as a stolen kiss.

A moment passed, Severus closed his eyes again, cradled the mug with the thick dregs in the bottom in his lap, waiting for the caffeine and sugar to hit his brain.  He didn’t like to use any stronger stimulants, they could damage him, in this state.

The spell normally required three people, so they were fortunate that Minerva had known enough about the spell to assist.  It would have been a risk, to do it with just two of them.  Severus didn’t know if he would have wanted Poppy to take the risk.  She wasn’t as old as Minerva, true, but she also wasn’t either as young or (in all honesty) as powerful as Severus.  What Poppy lacked in pure power, she made up for in knowledge and technique.  They couldn’t afford to lose her, or her skills.  People depended on Poppy.

It wouldn’t have killed Severus, if he’s done it alone (in all probability).  It most likely wouldn’t have even badly damaged him, but Dumbledore would have needed to find a replacement Potions Master for the rest of the term.

And a replacement guardian for Potter, he suddenly realized.  

Dammit.  He was too tired to think about that, right now.  It was very comfortable to just drift off, with his head leaning back on the chair.

“Er, Professor? You’re going to tip that.” A distant voice told him.  He felt the mug plucked out of his hands.

He didn’t understand why Lily was referring to him as “professor”.  At least, it sounded like Lily’s voice.  Maybe.  Had to be, because now she’d thrown a blanket over him.  His dad must have chucked him out of the house again.  He hoped Mrs. Evans wasn’t going to be angry when she found him, kipping in her living room.  He drifted further off into a comfortable blackness.

Severus heard the sound of a floo and started a little.  He shook his head and opened his eyes properly. How long had he been dozing?

The boy had found a chair and was sitting there, staring at his own cup of something.

“How long have I slept?” Severus demanded, harshly,

“About half an hour.” replied Potter, looking up with fear haunted eyes, “I think the healers are here.

Severus staggered to his feet. Potter was there at his elbow and if Severus hadn’t been so truly weak and off balance he would have shouted at the boy.  As it was, he grudgingly put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Right.”

He staggered into the hospital wing, with the boy half supporting him.  He scowled at the headmaster’s raised eyebrows, daring him to comment.  Potter led him to the first chair and Severus sat down (collapsed, really).

Poppy and Minerva were sound asleep, on two of the beds.  The Weasley boys were gathered, at the near end with Granger and Lloyd.  The Headmaster appeared to be getting ready to question them with them.

“Where is Miss Weasley?” asked Severus.  He didn’t bother to keep his voice down.  Nothing would wake either Poppy or Minerva for some hours, if they’d gotten properly to sleep.

Dumbledore pointed to the end of the hospital wing where a curtained-off area hid the activity of what appeared to be several healers, “They just arrived by flu from St. Mungos.” he said, “They were wondering if, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley get here, if you might be able to get some idea from Ginny why she would do something like this?”

“She hasn’t recovered enough to speak yet?” asked Severus, heavily.  Then he knew the answer, before the headmaster shook his head, “Oh, of course.” he said, almost to himself.

An overdose of Peace would leave the child paralyzed, for several days, even her breathing would need to be induced magically. Any of the antidotes for Peace would kill her, now.  One could only wait for it to wear off, by itself.  The Tribuo Vita would keep her heart alive until the potion wore off, but she was in for a frightening few days.  

Severus said, bitterly, “I’ll need more of that coffee, then.”

Potter jumped up, like a bloody house elf, before Severus was even done speaking.

Dumbledore turned to the children, “Do any of you know why Ginny might do such a thing, as this?”

As one, the children all shook their heads in a muddled, bemused sort of way.

“She’s been really down, all term, but it’s not like that hasn’t been going around.” one of the twins said.

The other one nodded, “Mum told us to keep an eye on her.  She seemed to cheer up the last couple of days, though.”

“Well, I haven’t noticed anything.” said the oldest one, Percy Weasley, “She’s actually been very interested in her studies this year.  Much moreso than last.  She’s been very interested in improving her potion marks.  I’ve been helping her.”

Considering that Miss Weasley had spent a great deal of last year being possessed by some fragment of the Dark Lord, it was no wonder she had not been interested in her studies.

Potter came back with Severus’ coffee and some variety of baked good.  He put both into Severus hands and then took his seat between Granger and the youngest Weasley boy.

“Do you know who she was close to?” asked Dumbledore gently, “Anyone at all, who we should ask?”

Granger said in a very soft, overly composed voice, “I’ve been thinking about it Professor, I can’t think of anyone Ginny was close to, other than us and Neville.  Last year was such a wreck for her, you see.  The only person I ever saw her with, was Neville.”  she paused,  Severus noted her eyes were a little unfocused, “You know, she told me that I had to go to the teachers, about Harry.  If I didn’t, the same thing would happen to Harry that happened to Neville and I’d be making the same mistake she had.”

Severus brain lurched, “Granger?  Come here.” he said, firmly.

The girl rose, like an automaton.  Her face was completely smooth, free of worry, fear or anxiety.

She stood in front of him.  Fortunately, he was tall enough that he could do this without having to stand.  He lit his wand, shining the light in her eyes, noting with some apprehension, that her pupils only reacted sluggishly.

Severus remembered that Granger had been breathing for the girl, without any protection, into the girl’s mouth.  It was not unusual for a victim to vomit, during CPR.  God only knew, what ingesting a partially digested, potentially lethal potion would do.

Severus gulped down the coffee he still held in one hand.  “Fuck.” he grated, earning shocked looks from all of them, except Granger, who just looked at him with detached interest.

Why had he fallen asleep?  Poppy was out of it too.  No one else realized.  But, didn’t they see it?  Lloyd’s eyes were red and she was shaking with reaction.  The boys were sitting or standing around, trying to pretend that they weren’t on the verge of weeping, as well.

Thirteen year old girls, who had just given a classmate CPR, should not be this composed.

There were several antidotes to “Peace”.  But it wasn’t going to be pretty when he gave one to her.  Not after this evening.

Dammit.

“Dumbledore” snapped Severus, “Miss Granger needs attention.  Get one of those healers in here.”

“Professor Dumbledore?”  Granger asked in a small voice, “I was wondering, could my mum come to visit?”

Severus started nodding, “Headmaster, if she’s asking for her mum right now, I suggest you send someone to apparate down there and retrieve Dr. Granger.”

That would actually be ideal, if they could get Granger’s mother here, for the inevitable hysteria.  Severus waved his wand, doing a few diagnostic spells.  The child seemed stable enough.  He could turn her over to one of the healers, in good conscience.

Dumbledore nodded sharply, turned and called for one of the healers.  A woman in green robes came hurrying over.

“Severus says Miss Granger needs attention.” said Dumbldore.

“While helping revive Miss Weasley, she ingested some of the potion.” said Severus.

“Oh, my.  How much?”  The healer drew out her wand and began running diagnostic spells while the boys began muttering to each other in alarm.  Miss Lloyd was now actually crying on one of the twin’s shoulders.

“Not a dangerous amount, but I believe it should be counteracted.” said Severus, “Otherwise she might be weeks sleeping it off.  And the longer we leave it, the worse it will be, when she comes off of it.”

The healer nodded, “I see what you mean.” she said reading the numbers the diagnostic charm was returning,  “The child made a damned strong concoction.”

“I suggest you wait until Granger’s parents arrive, however.” Severus suggested.

The healer looked around and nodded, resigned.  She took Granger by the shoulders, “You just come along with me, dear.” she said.

“Thank you, Severus.” breathed Dumbledore, “I hesitate to ask more of you...”

“But you will.” Severus snarled.  He summoned a quill from a nearby table and transfigured it into a cane for balance.  If he was going to need a walking stick for any length of time, he was going to have to get himself a properly ominous looking one, he thought, distractedly.  Lucius’ snake topped one was rather nice.

At least it prevented Potter from jumping up and trying to help him, this time.

Severus was aware that the headmaster would probably prefer to do this himself.   Unfortunately, since it involved potions, he might not understand what he was seeing.  It was one thing to Legilimens a mind, another to interpret the impressions.  If they happened to look at how Miss Weasly made the potion, for instance, if Miss Weasley used an ingredient unfamiliar to Dumbledore it would be difficult for him to know if Miss Weasley had properly identified the thing.

Dumbledore also had no medical training.  It was an entire specialized class that some healers took (those that had a talent and interest in Legilimency) on the medical uses of the art.  A weakened or shocked mind could destroyed, by a mind as powerful as Dumbledore’s, if he made a mistake.

Then there was the advanced Occlumency that Severus had taken.  Only a few healers or Aurors took that course of study.  It allowed one to enter the mind of the mad or the dying without being caught up in it.  Severus actually had no idea if Dumbledore had that skill.  It was rare.  As rare as Animagi.

Severus hobbled around the screen, nodding at Pomona and the other healer.  Pomona drew him up a chair at the bedside.  He sat down in it gratefully, placing his stick upright between them and putting both hands on top of it.

Pomona and the Healer stepped back to the head of the bed, where Miss Weasley couldn’t see them, but they could see her and witness the questioning.

Miss Weasley’s color was much better and her eyes were open to slits.  The spell that was breathing for her glowed blue around her mouth and nose.  A few different monitoring spells were registering her blood pressure, magical activity, and such, on the parchment on the bedside table.

“Well, Miss Weasley,” Severus said, coolly, as though he were there to discuss an inadequate potions essay, “You seem to have caused quite a bit of turmoil tonight, with your actions.  I wonder if, perhaps, that was your plan?”  

He kept his voice carefully neutral, not wanting to frighten her, but he did not soften it, too much, either.  Nothing would frighten the child so much as too great a change in his manner.  So, he spoke to her as he would speak to one of his Slytherin first years that he had caught weeping in the dormitories, late at night.

Her eyes widened as she grunted.

He held up his hand quickly, “You’ll find you can’t speak.  There is a spell that is supporting your breathing.  The muscles of your respiration will not work for another day or two.”

Tears started to slip slowly down the girl’s cheeks.  Severus knew she wouldn’t be able to lift a hand to wipe them, so he took out a handkerchief did it for her.

Unable to cringe or turn her face away, her pupils constricted in fear.  
Severus sighed and pushed what had to be an itchy piece of hair out of her face.

“The paralysis is temporary, I assure you.”  If this had been an accidental poisoning, Severus would have told her how lucky she’d been that Granger and Lloyd had known what to do.

“Now, so we that have some method of communication, I would like you to blink once for ‘yes’  and twice for ‘no’.  Do you understand?”

Ones slow eye blink.

Severus nodded, “Miss Weasley, we would rather like to know how this happened.  Since you will not be able to talk, I am going to enter your mind.   It is a spell that might cause you some discomfort.  There will be more, if you fight me.  Do you understand?”

Two rapid eye blinks.  Two more rapid eye blinks. Two more rapid eye blinks.   

The child’s face went very white.  The ink in the automatically recording quill marked her blood pressure in red, rather than black, to show a sudden, ominous change.

“Professor Snape!” The healer said, sharply.

“Please, calm yourself.” Severus said,  quietly to the girl, “I take it you do understand, but you wish to withhold consent?”

One eye blink.  

Severus sat for a few minutes, not saying anything until the recording quill’s ink turned to black.  He sighed, “Please don’t mistake this for a request, Miss Weasley,” he said very softly, when he spoke again.  Her eyes had closed, but he knew she hadn’t fallen asleep.

Her eyes opened, but before she could work herself into a state, he went on, keeping his voice level and soothing, “Your parents will be here, soon.  We aren’t sure whether they should be allowed to see you, or not.  We don’t know if any of your brothers, Miss Granger or Mr. Potter should be allowed to see you.  Or frankly, whether we should send you to the locked ward at St Mungo’s.”

Pomona came forward, “Ginny, Professor Snape’s done this before, you know.  It’s uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt.”

A long pause as the girl’s eyes moved from Pomona’s face to Severus’ and back. Finally, one tired eye blink.

Pomona moved back, out of the way.

Severus leaned forward to place his hand on one of Miss Weasley’s, feeling that she probably needed the reassurance.  

He looked into her eyes, “Legilimens”

The girl’s mind was a morass of pain and guilt, but thankfully, it was not the disjointed nonsense of delusion.

“What kind of idiot falls for that?” she was crying on someone’s shoulder, “I hurt people!  I nearly killed people!”

They were sitting in the darkness of an unused classroom.  She and a boy.  It was hard to see who.

“Ginny.  It’s okay, nobody blames you.” that was Longbottom’s voice.

“But, they should! They DO! How can normal people even stand to be around me?”

“Look, Ginny, everyone’s got...stuff...they can’t talk about.”

The scene changed, She and Longbottom were walking around the lake.

“...can’t ever get the wand stuff right.  Think this wand doesn’t like me.  Anyway, my hand shakes.  I don’t know why.” Longbottom was saying, with a shrug.

“I can help you.” she said, “If I do, do you think we can make it?”

“It’s all botanical.  Yeah.  I’m really good with botanicals.  It’d be better than Dreamless Sleep.  If you take Dreamless too often, you go crazy.  Peace just calms you down.”

“Oh god, Neville, that’d be great.  I can’t sleep and I keep seeing,” the child shuddered “Him.  Around every corner.  I don’t know what to do.  It’s like I can feel him, with his hands on me.  I think I’m losing my mind.”

“No.  You just have bad dreams.  Sometimes, I even have them in the daytime, too.  It happens.”

Another jump.

Diagon Alley, a summers day, a chance encounter, “Mum! Can I go get some ice cream with Neville?”

Molly Weasley smiled fondly at her daughter, “Go on, then, love, I’ll find you there, when I get done shopping.”

“Oh, Merlin, Neville!  What happened?” she gasped.  

Neville sat down stiffly, not sitting back against the chair, a black bruise visible on his wrist, “Gran’s been gone for the summer.” he said by way of explanation.

She stood up, “I have to tell Mum.  She’ll do something about it”

Neville reached out and grabbed Ginny’s hand, “No. Ginny, don’t.  It’d kill Gran.  Look, school starts in three days, right?  It’s fine.  Don’t worry.”

About a dozen boys showing up, effectively ended that conversation.

The next image was Neville, lying pale and cold with Lupin crouched over him.

Then, there were no more coherent scenes, just a whirl of self loathing and anger and pain.  Always destined to trust the wrong people, to make the wrong choices.  The knowledge that she was responsible for her best friend’s death.  Knowing that she was unfit for decent human company.  She replied to her mother’s worried owls with artificial cheer, not wanting the poor woman to realize she’d spawned such a tainted, corrupt creature.

She had ruminated constantly, after Neville’s death, on the Dark Lord.  The Dark Lord had whispered terrible things into the girl’s mind.  Things that would have surprised no one, if they had only stopped to think of it.  Things that would not even normally be out of place, in such a mind, but magnified and twisted.

She tried to scrub the creeping sensation of the memory of the Dark Lord’s touch from her flesh, then she tried to cut it away.  Nothing worked. The pain didn’t stop. The pain would never stop.

Severus’ carefully wrought Occlumency shields slipped.  For a moment, he was no longer Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master.  For one endless second he was merely Sev, who had utterly failed to protect his best friend, and had nothing in the world left to live for.

His eyes slipped away and the spell fell.  Reality reasserted itself.  Tears and snot were mixing on his face and he wiped his face with digust, blowing his nose before turning back to Miss Weasley.  

The healer and Pomona had tactfully found something to do, behind the head of the bed, that seemed to occupy them, without taking them out of sight or earshot.

Miss Weasley’s face was also a mess.  Severus very carefully wiped her up, “I’m very sorry for your loss.” he said, in a low voice.  He reached down and pushed back the arm of her robe.  He turned the arm over.  There were little sideways cuts, running all up and down the arm.  All in different stages of healing.  Some as recent as yesterday.

He shook his head, sighed.  He’d seen this sort of thing before.  They were very superficial. He gave his wand a quick wave, summoning one of Poppy’s ever-present dittany salves to his hand.  Without a word, he dabbed it all over the cuts and lay the arm back on the bed.

Miss Weasley’s eyes looked very confused.  He indulged himself in a tired smirk, “Are there others?”

Two slow blinks

Good, he didn’t fancy playing twenty questions.

The unmistakable odor of bodily fluids filled the room.  Miss Weasley’s eyes dilated, then constricted, in horror, as she realized that the odor was from her.

Severus raised an eyebrow, “If your respiratory muscles are not working,” he said, recovering his dry tone, “You can hardly expect other muscles to work.” he softened again, as she reddened, with shame,

“Professor Sprout?” called Severus, not moving from his chair, realizing the girl didn’t know where Pomona and the healer were, “Miss Weasley, and I could do with some help.”

Pomona looked up sharply, as did the healer.  Pomona bustled over, and then gave an understanding, “Ah.” She levitated the child off the bed.

Severus muttered a cleaning spell, doing clothes, sheets and blankets at once, wishing that shit was the worst thing he’d had to clean up tonight.

Pomona laid her gently back down on the now clean, dry sheets, “Not to worry.  In a minute,” she told Miss Weasley, “The healer will do some spells, so that doesn’t happen again, all right?”

One slow blink.

“Miss Weasley?” Severus asked.  He waited for her to focus on him, “Would you like to see your mother?”

One blink. Open, pleading eyes, with huge pupils and tears.  More snot, which Severus leaned forward to wipe.

“I’ll go see if she’s here yet, shall I?” leaning heavily on his stick Severus stood.

The healer followed him out, “So, it would be all right for the girl to see her mother?” she asked, anxiously.

“I believe it would be beneficial, in fact” replied Severus.  “It appears the child was distraught over the Longbottom death.  The boy was her best friend, you see.”

“Ah, and the young are always dramatic.  I imagine she had no idea how lethal her cry for help could be. Or how upsetting people would find it.” she said, her manner turning a trifle patronizing,  “Thank you.  I’ll see to finding her mother.”

“Be kind to her.” Cautioned Severus, suddenly wary of how  wizards regarded attempted suicides.  He wasn’t going to have a paralyzed girl subjected to some healer’s misplaced disdain.  Damned 19th Century morals. “It was a Draught of Peace, not a restricted potion.  Don’t jump to conclusions.  She was trying to assuage her grief, not join the boy.”

“So, you believe it was accidental?.” the healer asked, doubtfully. 

“It’s a complex potion.” shrugged Severus, “I have her in my second year, she’s an average student.”

“Oh, of course.” Suddenly all sympathy again, damn her.

He headed to the nearest bed, collapsing onto it.  Dumbledore could wait till the bloody morning, to get his report.