- Chapter Nine: A Broken Soul -

o.O.o

The air is cold and rain is still falling relentlessly, threatening to bring another great flood to the whole world. But the thunder has quieted, there is no lightning or rumbling in the sky. With the departure of Eames and Allister the wind stopped howling as well. Not even birds dare tweet now, not to enrage their king with their sweet songs. The forest is all but muted like Potter, and Severus wonders if he will be allowed to hear it again one day.

Everything is quiet and grey. There is only the gentle knocking of raindrops on the leaves. There are only the colourless clouds in the sky. The Sun has fled, or has been forced to hide. It seems, so have the inhabitants of the forest.

Yet Severus knows better than to attempt to cross the line. He stays far away and yet close enough, lingering on his memories of the place. How many times has he walked in there in the middle of the night and returned unscathed? Hundred? Probably more. Ine was right in the dream, he has been a friend of this forest and now he is treated like an enemy.

Is he indeed the enemy? – he asks himself, kicking wet leaves on the ground. He knows, he would be more than willing to plunder the forest and look for the innocent nymphs if that would help Potter. He would burn it to ashes if that could save that foolish Gryffindor. But the forest is safe from him now, the nymphs are gone, no one here can help Potter.

Who would take them? The question appears in his mind every minute since he has started his little, solitary walk. Who would be so cruel to kill an innocent forest spirit? Are they trying to gain galleons or is this about something more? He suspects it would be the latter, mostly because Potter was driven here. Someone cursed Potter, knowing he would seek out help here, with Severus.

But how did they know, where Severus lived? How did they know about the nymphs? Only a handful of people knew about Severus's home and even less would be disloyal to him. Who was it then who betrayed not just Severus but the Hero of the Wizarding World as well? What was so important to sacrifice Harry Potter for?

And what did Ine mean when she said, Potter's death will be the trigger?

He looks at the tree on his hand which sways gently in the invisible gust of air, less and less leaves crowning its gnarled branches. There is still plenty, but not even nearly enough for Severus. He wants to see it in full bloom and then wishes he could see the old tree dressed in all green as it would look during a Summer afternoon.

Whoever kills Harry Potter is a doomed man, and they must know that as well. But then why? Why risk it all? Are they so sure about not being found that they dare take such enormous risk?

There are two kinds of people, who would do anything, no matter the risk: the ones who act because they are in love and the ones who are desperate. Could this be about love? Or is it desperation? Or maybe neither…

Or maybe, much like Severus' actions half his life, it is all for someone else. Maybe it is love and desperation. He knew burning down a forest he loved and cherished would be the least he would be willing to do for Potter. Maybe, whoever cursed the man feels the same for someone as well. They are, after all, willing to kill a Hero and be doomed for a lifetime – no sane man would risk that for gold.

Thoughts of Potter lead, ultimately, back to their morning together. Severus shudders as images and feelings surface again, but unlike the rain, this spread warmness all around his body. He does not understand the happening of this weekend at all, much like Potter's thoughts. What is happening between them? How is this even possible? And more importantly, how long will it last? Eventually Potter will return to his own life. Eventually, this will be nothing more than a, perhaps, sweet memory. But when will that moment come? Why is Potter still here waiting for him back in the cottage, making breakfast? Why was he so adamant to utter those word, which mean the life for some, and damnation for others?

"Why are you here?" Severus voices the question that has been on his mind from the very first moment he saw Potter on his property. "What is it that you want? What is it that I can give you?"

He knows an answer would never come which is why he is so surprised when it does come.

"I was waiting for you," says a bodiless female voice from between the trees. "What I want is my son, which is exactly what you can give me. If you hurry, that is."

"Who is it?" Cries Severus, pulling his wand.

"My name is Daere. I believe you have met my son, Neirin."

A woman steps out from the line of trees, brushing rain off her black skin. She appears to be wearing thick, furry boots, but once again Severus realizes those are her own legs. Her ears, much like her son's are rounded and bear like not human, but these are more proportioned than the son's. She is chubby and radiates warmth and strength at the same time.

"Careful," Severus warns the nymph. "Camus does not approve of me. You might get in trouble."

Daere waves nonchalantly. "Camus does not approve of anything since his daughter was kidnapped. The only problem is, with attitude like that, he disregards our best chance at finding them. He seems to be forgetting that Ine, though our beloved princess, is not the only one missing."

There is some almost touchable sadness in her voice and immediately Severus understands that his problem is miniscule compared to these nymphs'. Four parents have lost their children, the very essence of their home, the ones who will help the forest all during the cruel winter that is to come. His anger towards Camus lessens as he imagines the pain a parent might feel at dreadful times like this. Not to mention, Camus is more than that. He is also a king, the life of his people depends on Ine.

"I saw your son," Severus informs her quietly and Daere's eyes go wide. She moves out of the forest. Her steps carry unimaginable strength, the ground trembles beneath her and Severus knows this woman would move a mountain to save her son. "Neirin and the others are still well. They… visited me in my dreams," He explains uncertain. "They asked me to help them, to find them. They gave me this," He shows Daere his new mark.

Strong fingers grasp his wrist and Severus is surprised to see tears fall down the black, round cheeks. "They have chosen you," she states. "Good."

"I do not know what to do." Severus confesses, pulling his hand away.

"I'm here to help you. You can walk freely in the human world, we cannot. We are restricted in our forest. You can be our ears and eyes."

"You know I want to help, but how? It could be anyone." Severus points out.

"There was a woman here, many times. We do not know how she has found us, but she came to the forest many times. She never hurt anyone, it was her not doing anything at all that alerted us in the first place. She was not here to collect ingredients, or to tour the valleys as so many has done before her. She was just coming to the edge of our land and watched us."

"How did she look?" Inquired Severus.

"Sad," she said morosely. "That is all I can say. Most humans look alike to us. But she was magical, of that we are sure."

That is not much, Severus thinks bitterly. "Alright. We will do our best to find your children."

"Thank you," she says with a light nod of her head. "Something for your friend," she adds as she holds out her hand palm up. "It should help him with the pain."

When Severus looks at her suspiciously, she smiles. "Neirin told me what you did. I do not blame you," she assures him kindly. "We all go to desperate measures to save the ones we love. Which is why I ask you to forgive Camus when the moment comes. Ine is the only thing left for him from Asgre. She was our queen, the heart of this forest. She was taken last winter."

"Was it…" Severus cannot bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Wizards, yes," Daere nods gravely. "They came with the Sun and killed her before anyone could even notice their presence…"

"I did not…"

"No, you could not have known, or heard; it happened on the other side or the trees. You might have felt, though."

As Severus thinks about it, he understands what Daere insinuates. "Indeed, it was rather a cruel Winter."

"Indeed," She agrees.

Severus reaches out and takes the small crystal from the nymph's palm. It is an unprocessed stone, most likely straight from the source somewhere deep in the forest, somewhere not even Severus has dared venture yet. Its pitch black colour seems to swallow even that small amount of light that manages to pierce through the clouds. It feels rather light on his palm, much like basalt, but he knows that is not where his gift has come from.

He looks up at the woman, who watches him intrigued and slightly… smug. "I gather you know what to do with that." She asks smiling.

"I gather," Severus answers slowly with a roll of his eyes, "it is not to be drunk."

"Oh no," she laughs boomingly, her sound shaking the leaves on the trees. "When the pain is too great, you can rub this against his skin. It will help. The tourmaline is the utmost protection I can give him. Beyond this, only the children will be able to help him."

Severus does not know what to say. He knows the risks Daere is taking with this chat, he knows Camus' men are probably watching them from somewhere right now. And still all he can utter is a sincere, "Thank you," though he knows it is not nearly enough.

Daere nods her huge head and is about to turn around when Severus speaks again. "Ine told me, that his death will be the trigger. Do you maybe know, what that could mean? Can there be a timed effect on the curse perhaps?"

Daere looks over her shoulder and laughs again thought the sound that comes out of her mouth is not in the least cheerful. "Not all evil is a mastermind, Severus Snape. Some act on impulses, I am afraid. I do not know what Ine has meant by that, but I doubt the curse is more than what it is: a slow mean to kill. However, you, of all people, should know what one murder does to the soul. One who kills once, even if for the good reason, has lesser problem killing again, especially if they believe the cause demands more sacrifice. The first kill, however, is the hardest of them all."

"I understand."

Severus watches as the woman slowly morphs into a bear and stalks away, disappearing between bushes and trees. He sighs deeply, the stone in his hand suddenly much heavier.

o.O.o

After breakfast, Harry is standing in the doorway, looking at the ground all but shy. He does not want to go, but he knows he has to. He does not want to leave Snape here on his own. He does not want to be without Snape. The feeling is so strange; it makes him more confused than his cursed body. Letting go of his fears from the past has been liberating, but he cannot stop wondering if it will hold even after he leaves. What if the moment he is out of the door all this will shatter?

He looks up and heavy black eyes bore into his. "Promise me you will come back when your symptoms worsen." Snape says strictly.

Harry nods but something like fear corners his heart. "Only then?" He scribbles into the air between them. His letters fade quickly, much quicker than usual, as if he is uncertain whether he should have written them or not.

Snape moves closer, looming over Harry, his height all but threatening. He cups Harry's chin in his palm and leans down, his black eyes never leaving the green ones. "Or any moment of any day," he whispers before his soft lips envelope Harry's.

Smiling, Harry kisses back. "I'll come," he whispers into Snape mouth, not sure if he will be understood at all. Then he turns around and apparates away.

His legs barely touch the ground of his own apartment, he turns towards the fireplace and grabs a fistful of Floo Powder. Green fire lights up in the heart of the hearth as he throws the powder in there calling for Ron's home nonverbally. He kneels down and sticks his head through the emerald flames.

He knows if Ron or Hermione are at home, they have already been alerted that someone attempted to come through their Floo. Hence he is not surprised that soon he hears footsteps then two fluffy slippers shuffle into his view. Seconds later, accompanied by a groan Ron is kneeling in front of his fire, face lit up with relief and happiness that he sees his friend.

"Harry!" He greets the other Gryffindor. "Come over. Hermione just finished brewing tea. And we have some news for you."

"So do I," Harry writes in the ashes then scoots through the flames. Spinning for what feels like ages makes his stomach dizzy, then the Floo System spits him out at Ron's apartment.

Ron helps him up then brushes the dust and ash off him, quite motherly, Harry thinks. "So mate, what happened?" He asks, his blue eyes looking over Harry's features searching for any signs of the curse or the nonexistence of it.

Sadly, Harry shakes his head. "It's still in me. Let's sit down and I'll tell you guys everything."

Holding on to Hermione's fine china, which is warm with tea makes it easier to write, yet some things are still hard to put into words.

"I am dying" is one of them. Ron takes the news calmly, though Harry can tell there is a storm in his best friend. Hermione starts crying. It is hard to watch as she buries her face in her palm and sobs. It takes her less than five minutes to collect herself, after which she already has a book about forest Nymphs and other Spirits in her lap that she is paging through while Ron informs Harry about what they had discovered during the weekend.

"We think, we might have figured out who cursed you, but it's really weird, so we're not really sure." Ron starts. "We thought it must have been someone at work, during training, where you got hit by loads of spells. Otherwise, you would have noticed if any spell, especially one this serious knocks into you, right? For this, I'm sorry but I had to tell Kingsley what's going on. I needed special clearance to look into everyone's files. I started with the people we usually train with, then we went through the whole Auror Department. It led nowhere," he sighs disappointed. "But we were sure it has to be someone within the Department, who else could get into our trainings and hit you with a spell. So we kept looking. We were there yesterday afternoon, when we met Jose. Remember him, the old bloke with the long beard that rivals Dumbledore's? He was there cleaning the office. So he comes to me and says, Auror Weasley have you heard from Auror Graham recently? I promised some books to her but I haven't seen her. She said she really needed them and I have them on me, if you could pass them to her, I would be really grateful. We said yes, of course and he went off to start his shift. Hermione immediately looked into the books, you know her," Ron grins and earns an elbow in his ribs. "Luckily for us. Because this was one of the books," he points now at the one Hermione is reading, who holds it up for Harry to see the title clearly.

"Funny isn't it…" Ron remarks sternly, without even the hint of finding anything funny in the situation. "A day after you send us the letter about seeing nymphs and everything at Snape's place, someone at the office is looking for books about the same topic. So we looked into Auror Graham's file once again."

"This is where it gets all weird," Hermione takes over, closing the book and caressing it for a moment with the palm of her hand. "She is one of the top ten Aurors. She finished first in her class. She has always been an ally of Dumbledore and Kingsley. She is very vocal about supporting Muggle protection laws, and the equality of Werewolves and other sentient half-breeds. She fought against Thicknesse when he was in charge, and quit being an Auror during those times, but never quit the fight against Voldemort. She got a medal actually, for fighting off a horde of vicious vampires in the north with only a small group of other wizards. Let's just say, she is one of the good guys."

She puts her hand up the air and summons a piece of paper which she hands over the Harry to look at.

It is a picture Harry presumes about Auror Graham.

"Emily Petra Graham born in Birmingham in 1976, first and only daughter of Petra and William Graham." Hermione introduces the woman on the picture. She is cute, Harry thinks to himself. There is something warm and sincere in the way she smiles at the camera. She looks a lot younger than her age. Her brown hair is tied into a loose ponytail on the back of her head and hangs over her shoulder. She is wearing her Auror uniform and Harry suspects the picture was taken on the day of her initiation. There is a kind of proud happiness all over her face, that makes her a thousand times more beautiful then how she would look during their meetings, where Harry met her almost every week.

"She came in sometimes with her son," Ron says musing. "I remember the kid. He got lost once and wandered into my cubicle. Turned out, he's a Chudley fan; I guess the posters attracted him."

Harry looks at them both, then back at the woman. He wants to say just because someone is interested in forest spirits does not mean they would curse and eventually kill the national hero.

"I know what you want to say," Hermione speaks again before he could. "She is too good. Her background is perfect. She is a kind, gentle person. We discarded her as well. We went to Kingsley to ask about her so we can deliver her the books."

"You won't believe this…" Ron mutters, sighing deep as if he still would not believe it.

"She has not come to work in nearly a month. She asked for personal time at first, then after two weeks sent a letter saying that she can't come in for a while. Given her perfect record they were lenient with her and let her take an indefinite leave. During her last day, she participated in a training session. We know this because we talked to her partner, Auror Nina Tucker, who remembered the day clearly, because of one thing: that was the first day someone managed to knock out Auror Harry Potter with a spell."

"Guess who sent the spell…" Ron grunts shaking his head.

"Emily Graham," Harry mouths looking at the picture once again. Emily looks back at him, her radiant smile unfaltering.

o.O.o

They talk it over and over during the whole afternoon much like when they were children however they do not come closer to the solution just by talking about it. The underlying threat of Harry's death is not forgotten just thrust into the back of their minds as a new mystery has presented itself to the Golden Trio once again.

"I wasn't the target here, Harry writes in the air where all of them can read it. Ine and the others were. But why curse me to get to them?"

"It feels like a cry for help," Hermione tries uncertain. "Maybe she wanted someone to stop her, to pay attention to her actions."

"Why?" Ron asks back not convinced. "She cursed Harry a month ago and kidnapped the nymphs only now. Why did she wait? Why did she curse Harry in the first place? This whole mess makes no sense. What did she achieve with it? Nothing."

Not nothing, Harry thinks to himself. He ended up going to Snape, finally moving over past insults. Thanks to Emily, Harry and Severus are closer now than ever. One day, he will have to thank her for that. Unless she does end up killing him, of course.

Hermione seems deep in her thoughts for a couple of minutes as if thinking through all possible explanations all at once. She looks up morose, her eyes moving slowly between Ron and Harry, however before speaking up again, she opens one of the books Emily was supposed to receive.

Exchanging an eyeroll, Ron and Harry waits patiently. They both know she just needs to check something to make sure her statements are backed up by evidence.

"She did achieve something. Harry went to Snape. The only person probably who knows exactly what that curse was and how to cure it. But that makes no sense. She cursed Harry hoping to go to Snape who could cure him? Right? No sense in there. Unless… You were right Harry, she did not want you dead. You are just… collateral damage." She looks up, apologizing for her wording.

"It says here," she points at the book in her lap, "that nymphs are only magical when they are in their human forms. When in their original form, their fur is fur, their blood is blood, their leaves are just leaves. But when they take their human form, that's when you need to collect whatever ingredient you seek. Healing herbs has been collected from tree nymphs for ages, we even have a National Reserve for them in Ireland. We protect them from Muggles and other dangers and they give us leaves and berries which strive with magical attributes. Animal nymphs, Ine's kind, are not as kind and tender. They do not want to work with wizards. Ingredients from an animal nymph is harder to get than unicorn blood, and therefore modern wizarding medicine has stirred away from using them; we found other substitutes. But still, there are potions that rely on them to work. Snape tried all the alternatives, but a strand of nymph' hair is the only thing that would help you."

"Yes, Hermione, we know this," Ron interrupts. "But that still does not answer why she cursed Harry, of all people."

"Because someone had to go to Snape. Because Snape had to look into the curse. Because Snape is the only person who interacted with the nymphs before all this."

Harry shakes his head but before he can lift his wand, Hermione speaks up again. "Let me finish," she asks. When the other two nods, she goes on. "Severus wouldn't have done this for anyone else. It had to be Harry Potter, otherwise Severus Snape would not have moved a finger. That's why Harry is the one with a curse. Why not Snape? By the time he notices that something isn't alright, it might be too late and he might not be able to finish the cure. That's a risk she's not willing to take, understandably. And why did she have to curse someone in the first place? Because she doesn't know which animals to kidnap. They are not magical unless they show their true form, right. You said Neirin's mom saw a sad woman coming to the forest for many days. She was looking for the nymphs. She saw the animals but didn't know which one was Ine and which just a regular deer. And I bet you a thousand galleons, that all through those weeks, she saw something else as well. A man, roaming the forest untouched, unharmed, never encountering wolves or bears unless that was what he was looking for. She suspected the forest lived in harmony with Snape, wouldn't be the first time, really. As long as you respect the forest, it will help you. Camus would never help her, a stranger, but they might help Severus. Then she cursed you, knowing sooner or later your illness would get to Snape who would help you given your past. And for that, he would need to ask help from the forest. The moment Ine and the others showed themselves to you, she knew exactly which animals to take. And so, she took them. What I don't know, is why didn't she kill them yet."

"Because she's not a killer," Ron says, pointing at the picture of Emily Graham. "It's not that easy you know. Charlie and George were laughing at me for not being able to kill a chicken the other week. All I had to do was to behead it. You fought against Voldemort, they said. Yeah, but I never killed anyone. It's hard to end a life, especially with your own hands. And I guess, if she wants to kill them, a simple spell won't do it. These things are usually done as a ritual. It strengthens the magic, or something."

"My death will be the trigger," Harry writes the sentence in the air, his letters pulsing deep red. "This is what Ine meant. As long as I am alive, she probably won't kill, she is too afraid. Severus was right, once I die, she sinks to a place so dark, killing nymphs won't be a problem for her any longer."

"Her soul will be broken forever. But why? Surely not for money," Hermione breathes, the idea of shattering a soul brings a cold shudder over her body.

She is still holding the book in her lap, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the corner of the pages, until suddenly, her eyes move from the setting sun outside the window and turn to the volume on her legs. "Why don't we just ask her?" She asks simply.

"Ask her what?" Ron snorts. "Oh hello, Auror Graham, could you please tell us why you want our best friend dead? Just curious, is all. Or what?"

"No," Hermione shakes her head all serious. "Jose gave us these books to deliver. We know where she lives. I say, tomorrow morning we do just that. Deliver these books and ask her why she is so interested in Nymph Magic."

o.O.o

On his way back, Harry does not take the Floo, but instead apparates. It is after all quicker and less dizzying, even if just so. When finally at home and alone, he walks to the kitchen to prepare some quick dinner. He is not that hungry, his appetite lost after the conversation with his friends about Emily Graham.

The name brings forth the image of the woman. So happy and positive. Beautiful in her own way, natural and simply good. What has made that pure girl turn into the cruel woman who would turn towards the Dark Arts and curse people, not to mention killing innocent children. A part of him wants to seek her out right away and demand answers the other however is afraid of what they might learn tomorrow.

If the Dark Arts can lure away good people like her what future awaits the wizarding community? After all, she has been fighting against evil all her life and yet in the end, she chose the darker path for some reason? What could the reason be, Harry wonders as he spreads some butter on his toast.

He dips the knife in the raspberry jam and spoons out a good batch, but the preserve never reaches the toast.

As the coughing seizure hits him, he bends over the sink, unable to breathe for a second. The knife clatters loudly as it hits the metal, the toast however falls almost silently. Like blood, the jelly streams slowly down into the pipe. But not all of it; some gets smeared as Harry palms into it, fighting for precious air.

It feels like an hour, but he knows it cannot be more than minutes. When his lungs feel clear again, and the black miasma stops blocking his air passages, he finally opens his mouth again. He does not remember when he collapsed, but he is on his knees and the ground beneath him is covered with that strange darkness Snape collected in his mason jars as well. He does not dare think about how much more of that stuff is still in his system. Instead, he just grabs some paper towels and cleans up the mess he made.

He feels strangely weak as he tosses the damp paper into the bin and almost misses, too. He washes his hands and the cool water feels so good, he decides, he will just take a cold shower.

When he emerges from the bathroom, the seizure feels like a bad memory, or even just a faded nightmare. His muscles are strong again, the cold water revived even his mind.

He does not find his place in his own house. Grimmauld Place feels foreign to him as he walks into his bedroom. He looks around knowing he is missing something. When he realizes what, he breaks into a swift walk and storms down, back into the kitchen. The green flames are barely alive in the fireplace, he is stepping through them.

The Sanctuary smells of bergamot. He is slightly dizzy, however he draws strength from that familiar scent. There is not a single candle lit in the kitchen yet there is some light seeping in from the living room. He can faintly see the green cupboards and the black table; the light just enough so he does not fall over the furniture. He follows the source of brightness out of the kitchen and stops at the white door full of windows.

There are candles lit in the living room, some floating in the air, the others stuck to the table by the streaming wax on their sides. Severus is reading three books at the same time, paging one, then turning to the other, while the third sits patient in his lap. There are pages upon pages all around, most on the table, but some fell on the ground, others were surely tossed there, as they lie all crumpled now.

Through the windows, Harry watches the man, who is still oblivious to his presence as he ruffles through some worn pages in the book in his lap. Then he straightens up a bit, pushing his reading glasses over to his forehead, rubbing his tired eyes. Yawning, he resumes to reading shortly, making notes onto a parchment as he bends over the table.

Harry pushes down the handle and the door opens, squeaking. Snape looks up, but there is no alarm on his feature.

"Potter?" He asks surprised looking at Harry over the brim of his glasses. "What are you doing here?"

He stands, taking the glasses off and Harry does not understand why he is so fascinated with them. He steps inside the living room and walks closer, his steps unhurried. Snape is almost frowning at him for his silence, yet Harry would not pull out his wand. He would not know what to say anyways, so he just keeps on stepping closer. He is not sent away, Snape just rolls his eyes and holds a hand out for him.

"Are you alright?" Snape queries quietly as they sit down. Parchments and books levitate away to give place for Harry, who lies down without any further prompting. He nods as he lies his head in Snape's lap. His smile is reassuring as well. He senses the other man's hesitation, but then gentle fingers slither into his hair, caressing him softly.

"I have some research to do…" Severus says but his left hand is not leaving Harry's head, he does not indicate in any way he wants Harry to leave. So Harry stays and soon he feels his glasses being removed, and a blanket covering him from neck to toe. He only realizes his eyes were closed when he opens them.

He only sees blotches of colours, black and pale white and a twinkle of light as the glass reflects the light of the candles. The smell of bergamot is much stronger here, even though he did not see any cups. Maybe it comes from Snape, he wonders, but in all honestly he does not care. He just enjoys it.

He turns to his side and places a hand onto Snape's leg.

He does not say a word all night. He does not mention the coughs, the blood, the black magic. He leaves Emily Graham alone for now. Because just for a moment, he wants to believe everything is alright. For a single night, he wants to pretend life is normal and so is falling asleep next to the man, he once hated. Just for this night, he forgets about Forest Spirits and Nymphs and thinks about all the things they could do if these would not be his last days, because deep down he knows they are.

Just for tonight, he lets the scent of bergamot lull him into sleep.


To Be Continued...