These characters aren't mine, sadly, and I make no profit from Harry Potter. I cry out to the stars, "If only, if only."

Chapter 1: Worries

Harry Potter stared at the ceiling from his bed. This was shaping up to be another sleepless night. He was too worried about when Voldemort would attack. Every minute of every day seemed like it would be a perfect opportunity for Harry's enemies to kill him, even though being with the Dursleys was supposed to provide safety.

Voldemort wasn't his only worry. Lately he had noticed that whenever he said anything, he appeared to inflict his feelings on whoever was in the room with him. He had owled both Ron and Hermione concerning this, but neither knew what it meant. Hermione had suggested that Harry mention it to Dumbledore.

A crash of thunder brought Harry back to reality. He walked over to the window, opening it for Hedwig, who was sure to want in soon. As he scanned the backyard, he noticed a particular spot in the garden that irked him. There was something...wrong about it. Certain it was Voldemort, he reached for his wand. But in his haste, he knocked it off the bedside table and it rolled under his bed. He dove after it, grabbed it, and then sprang back up at the window.

"Harry! What do you think you're doing?" Ron asked from a flying car (parked outside the window), bewildered by being at Harry's wandpoint. Harry's eyes flicked to the garden, but the sense of peculiarity had vanished. He lowered his wand, convincing himself it was just his imagination. "We need to get your things and head for Grimmauld's Place immediately. Urgent business, Dumbledore said."

It wasn't long before Harry and Ron were standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld's Place. A whispered conversation was being held in the hallway, so the two crept up to the door leading to the corridor and listened in.

"The meeting is of the utmost importance, Severus," Dumbledore was saying.

"You know very well I cannot leave her at this point," Snape replied.

"I'm afraid you must."

"Very well," Snape responded, as though attending the meeting was the last thing he wanted to do. "If anything happens to her..."

The door flung open, knocking both boys to the floor as Snape came through. His eyes fell on them, and he glared as though he knew they had been eavesdropping and they had uncovered the most important secret he had to hide.

"Hello," Dumbledore said, having followed Snape. "I assume you arrived just now?"

"Y-yes sir," Harry stammered, a bit intimidated by Snape's glowering eyes and more than slightly afraid that Dumbledore would know he was lying.

"Good, good. Miss Granger is waiting upstairs..."

"Come on, Ron. Let's go say "hello" to her," Harry said quickly, eager for an escape. On the way up the stairs, Harry inquired about the Weasleys' new flying car.

"We got it just last month," Ron was saying. "We"-

"Do you hear that?" Harry interrupted. There was someone crying in one of the rooms, the sobs very muffled but nonetheless obvious. They found the door to the room the cries came from and opened it.

Sitting on a bed was a young woman with electric blue hair. She looked up when they opened the door, but they didn't get to see her eyes. The door slammed shut in their faces.

Snape stood there, his hand on the doorknob (he was the one who had shut the door) and a murderous look covering his face. Neither could think of a word to say, when Hermione came upon them. Giving a quick greeting to Snape, she dragged the boys down the hallway and into a room.

"Are you insane?" she questioned them. "Opening the door to Snape' private room! What were you two thinking?"

"He has a private room here?" Ron asked.

"He requested it from Dumbledore the day before yesterday."

"Hermione, we heard someone crying in there," Harry defended himself. "The poor girl"-

"I know. Yesterday she was screaming in pain," Hermione whispered. "Snape doesn't want anyone to see her though. He wouldn't let anyone in to help her."

"Do you reckon it's his wife?" Ron asked.

Harry shuddered at the thought. "It's possible," Harry said. "After all, the look he gave us...that's the least of my worries."

"Yes, it sounds like inflicting emotions on people is going to be quite a problem," Hermione said. "You really ought to talk to Dumbledore about it."

"I'd be more concerned about our N.E.W.T.'s," Ron mumbled.