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.