She had so much to consider. No time to consider any of it. Sitting alone in the Great Hall, Sarah stared at her wand and more importantly, the fingers curled around them. It was only a matter of time before the chaos was unleashed upon the school.

Snape as Headmaster was what caused her to question her values, working both in her favor and against her. On one hand, her dominant right hand, she was as safe as her bloodlines were pure. On the other, her weak left hand, she couldn't watch the public torture of people like Neville Longbottom, who clearly didn't deserve it.

In less than an hour, she was guessing, she would need to be willing to die for whichever allegiance she felt was worth it. There could be no hiding. There could be no avoidance.

Her mouth felt too dry.

Then she heard the uproar in the hall. All of the students in the building were shepherded into the Great Hall by prefects and teachers. They filled in the tables and McGonagall stood before the crowd of students in their pajamas. She herself was wearing a nightcap, though her robes were the same bottle green ones she always wore.

"Now, I want silence," she called out sternly, not even needing to raise her voice for silence. Despite the confusion, everyone was waiting to hear what was happening. "We need to evacuate the school. This will be headed by Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Filch, but prefects, I want you all keeping your houses in the closest semblance of order as you are able to. Students who are at least 17 may stay and fight."

Sarah buried her face into her hands. Sixteen, but still fighting. She wished to join the younger kids on the train. She wished it was still the time she had nothing to fear but passing her finals and few worries apart from avoiding booger flavor Bertie Bott's.

Students were filing out, first Slytherins from the table at the far right. No students remained behind, taking into account all of the ones who were already Death Eaters were elsewhere in the building and Sarah was sitting among the Hufflepuffs. Of the other houses, scattered numbers of students remained. Colin Creevey was underage. Why was he here? She always found him very annoying, but in the sense of a cousin younger than herself. She knew protecting him was no option and McGonagall was occupied on the far side of the room with some fourth years who tried to pass for 17.

By the time everyone was out, the room erupted in jittery and filler-like chatter that felt like a silent movie to Sarah.

All she saw was a fire before her eyes, tendrils of warmth curling around her body. She lay on the wooden floor, enjoying the contrast between that which lay before her and what was behind her. She stretched and relaxed her muscles, eyes half open. "Do you plan on sleeping on the floor?" Snape asked dryly. "There is another bed, you know, if the idea of sharing a place of sleep with a gentlemen so appalls you," he said, tight smile in his voice, though not his face.

"I'm just comfortable here. I find it pretty sweet that it always feels cold inside, despite the weather being bad enough to cook a living creature who lays in the sun for too long."

This time, he smiled a little and sat on the floor beside her. He leaned against an armchair, stroking her hair. "Do I look like a cat to you?" Sarah teased.

"If you did, I would be worried about this attraction to you I'm feeling at the moment," he answered, intending it as a joke but without any indication of whimsy. She rolled over smiling at him, sliding into a sitting position, her back against the same chair his was. Sarah leaned against him, eyes alert.

Her finger spiralled around the button on his shirtsleeve, the same motion of the spinners his home was named after. His other arm was around her like a vise, though somehow it felt right that way because she didn't want to fall away from him by chance.

Someone shook her out of her memory, someone telling her the battle was going to start. Dashing from the Great Hall, she began searching in hopes of finding Severus. She knew the placement of each line on the silver mask, the exact shape of the mask itself.

"Oh! Sarah!" she heard Molly cry from the end of the hall. Sarah walk toward her, not expecting to be pulled into a hug. Arthur stood grimly behind her. "You are far too young; why didn't you catch the train? Well, no matter, I suppose. You should stay in the Room of Requirement with Ginny," she held Sarah at her arm's length, staring into her eyes in a severe way. She would behave like a mother bear, fiercely protecting those she cared for. The concern in her eyes made Sarah feel a dull ache of guilt trying to bore itself out of her brain.

"I can't, Mrs. Weasley," she whispered.

"I'll have none of that. Wait with Ginny," she said, turning Sarah toward the wall to wait for a heavy iron door to form. She urged Sarah into the door, leaving her alone with a pair of frustrated eyes.

"Hi, Sarah."

Sarah waved, too annoyed to respond kindly. It bought her time but not enough. Sitting, she and Ginny heard a number of curses and explosions before her mind rolled her back to summer.

Sometimes, Severus would disappear from Spinner's End to do things for the Dark Lord. She saw him conjured the mask over his face from dust and vanish. Days later, he would reappear with nothing but waffled conversation. He gave no explanation but that he was needed, even once when he returned with a tumid eye. She frittered her time alone by writing letters and doing her summer homework. When he was gone, she felt so very alone that she could barely sleep. She worried sometimes that a Lethifold might wander into the house, even if they didn't inhabit areas as cool as this. The summer heat felt close enough to tropics to her, so why might a shadowy monster not think the same? She feared that her Patronus wouldn't be strong enough to repel one because she couldn't practice.

On occasion, chains of darkly masked links would show up on his doorstep, demanding entrance. Sometimes, Sarah sat quietly in the room with them. More often, he hid her away, not wanting others to know precisely how much time they spent together. Any relationship could be used to harm them, particularly one so dangerously interwound.

The last evening back before start of term, the fritinancy outside seemed to blare more prominently inside the cool building than the sunlight had earlier on. She lay quietly, waiting for sleep.

"He's making me headmaster," Snape said dully, as if reporting the score of a sports team.

That was another catalyst.