B o n d

(Victim bonds emotionally with the captor)

Severus actually stayed with me. I know he wasn't in Grimmald place during the holidays in the books – but that house was so big he could easily avoid everyone.

He took me to the Blacks' library, where he read for a bit. I browsed the shelves.

I'd found myself, suddenly, unwilling to finish my Odyssey. It'd marked the passage of time, the time in which I'd stayed in Harry Potter-land. If I finished it, it would mean the day I had to leave would come sooner.

I did not, however, want to stay. I wanted to go home, very badly, but I was deathly scared to go through the Veil. And I felt bad for leaving Severus behind.

I was terribly mixed up and confused. But time has a way of passing, unnoticed until it is too late. The day I had to leave, three days after the discussion, dawned bright and cold. Severus woke me with a finger jabbed in my side.

"Amanda," he said, and I jumped a mile, staring at him with startled, sleepy eyes. I'd forgotten the day. "W'ut?" I mumbled. He scowled.

"Today's the big day," he mocked, and I remembered. I swallowed, staring uneasily at him, and the ridicule in his eyes died down. He sat gently, almost awkwardly, on my bed.

"I'm—" I started uneasily. He touched my shoulder.

"I know," he said quietly. Then, because it was too close for comfort for him, he sneered, "Coward."

I smiled faintly. "Yeah, but I'm a-alive."

His eyes gleamed. "Spoken like a true Slytherin."

I scoffed. "Slytherin? R-Ravenclaw, I'd like to hope. Or maybe Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff," Severus said, but there was no ridicule in his voice. "Loyal," he continued, and, eyes dropping, he played with my blanket. "Kind."

I sat up and smiled at him. I knew better then to thank him. We sat there for a very long time, his eyes never meeting mine.

"Be careful," I said, suddenly. He looked up, questioningly.

"Be careful," I repeated. "I'll – I'll be r-reading after you," I smiled. "Worrying, too."

"I am very unlikely to emerge alive from this war," he told me flatly.

"You're smart," I said quietly. "You'll make it." He just had to, I thought. He couldn't die, he needed his happily-ever-after, although he was unlikely to get it. I hoped he'd get a content-but-I'm-still-mean-ever-after, at least. That was what I really wanted.

He stared at me, long and hard. "You really believe that," he muttered, after a moment. "You really—"

"Unconditionally," I told him firmly. I had total faith in him, and not just faith that he'd live. I believed in him, as corny as that sounds, and I loved him. Not like that, but something different. I understood him, and that takes a kind of love.

He swallowed and looked down. "Thank you," he murmured, and rose. When he reached the door he said harshly, "You have two hours," and left.

I was dressed and packed in moments.

I'd hoped to spend the time with him, but he had errands to run. So I sat in my room, looking around, memorizing it. I stole a silver candle holder, because I am sentimental and because I doubted Black would care. And in my final two hours in the magical world, I finished my Odyssey, feeling that I had to, feeling that it was symbolic.

Odysseus was home and the suitors for his wife were slain, and all was well once more. When McGonagall entered, I thought that it was time that I, too, went home.

I was sad, but I was ready. Severus entered moments later, and we went outside and Apparited.

I was sort of in a daze. I saw nothing but the sunlight when we were outside, and then nothing but that darkness when we were in the ministry. The inside of the building was very dark, which Harry never mentioned, but I was so dazed with the fact that I was going home, with the terror that it might not work and that I might die, that I didn't notice much.

McGonagall snuck us into the Department of Mysteries with little to no trouble. I don't remember how she did it.

The spinning room is very nearly gone from my memory. I remember it spun once, like a turntable, and we walked through the door before us. I remember Severus' hand on my shoulder and I remember walking into the room with the two of them. I remember McGonagall pointing at the veil, and I remember that it fluttered and was dark but for once, something magical was not frightening. Harry never mentioned how the veil radiated comfort and, for me at least, it radiated home.

I remember McGonagall stepped away from me, and told me something, but I do not remember what she said.

The veil had put me in a kind of trance, I think. It called to me, it pulled me. The world faded out, and I stepped away from Severus' hand on my shoulder and towards the gently hypnotizing black cloth.

But the loss of the warmth on my shoulder jarred me for a second, and I turned back.

This part I remember crystal clear.

Severus' face was guarded and almost expressionless. But there was a crack in his mask and I knew that he was just hanging on. His eyes were dark but they were wide, watching me. He was sad, I marveled, he was upset that I was leaving. He really would miss me.

It was a wonderful feeling, to know that someone as seemingly cold as Severus would miss me. I looked at him – he, worrying that I'd get home and not die, sad that I would never return. And I suddenly knew a gift to give him, in return for the vial he gave me.

I'd been wearing two necklaces since Christmas. The vial and my oak leaf. I took a step back to him and unclasped my necklace.

It was, in hindsight, a perfect gift. Oak leafs symbolize strength and endurance, something that Severus would need. At the time, though, I only thought that it was mine, and that he might like a keepsake of me, to remember that I was on his side.

I'd startled him, and his shock shined through for a moment; he looked stricken. He thought I was returning the vial. I smiled, took his hand and put my oak leaf in it, closing his fingers.

"For memory," I told him, looking right into startled brown eyes and not stuttering. "And for hope. You'll make it. You will. And I'll be rooting for you."

I released his hand and stepped back. He opened it, and stared incredulously into his own palm, with my silver leaf in it. Then he closed his fingers and looked into my own eyes.

"For memory," he agreed quietly, and the promise was there.

I smiled at him one last time, remembering, imprinting his face, saying a silent goodbye. Then I turned around, walked into the veil, and did not look back.

"Farewell," he whispered in his soft voice, and that was the last I ever heard from him.

---