Chapter 11

June 17, 1996

She hurtled through the halls, searching, searching, following the sounds of battle—curses thrown, Bellatrix's laughter, Lucius' drawling voice, other people's cries of pain—

"…race is run," she heard Lucius say. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy…"

So someone—Potter, most likely—had the prophecy—

"Let—let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" Potter retorted, desperation seeping from his tone. Yes, it was Harry bloody Potter alright.

Laughter was the Death Eaters' response.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," snapped Lucius. "You see, there are ten of us, and only one of you…or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you to count?"

"He's dot alone!" came a boy's shout, though his words were hampered by a broken nose. "He's still god be!"

Civia burst through the doors finally, into the Death Chamber. "And me!" she cried, as she watched a masked Death Eater grabbed the Longbottom boy.

Several of the Death Eaters' face curled in hatred at the sight of her, knowing what she was being "forced" to do for her cover.

"Little Civy!" cackled Bellatrix. "So good to see you too! And little baby Longbottom! What a treat for us. I've met your parents, boy!"

"I DOE YOU HAB!" Neville Longbottom roared.

And Civia took the distraction to fire Stunners at Bellatrix, who deflected it quickly, and Lucius, who ducked away.

Before she knew it, there were spells flying everywhere as she ducked and wove with grace around them, firing off her own in the process.

It wasn't long before the doors burst open once more and Mood, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley rushed in, firing their own spells and only adding to the melee.

She found herself dueling Bellatrix with Tonks, dodging Cruciatus after Cruciatus, deflecting Killing Curse after Killing Curse.

"Tonks, help the boys!" she cried, shoving the Auror away towards Harry and Neville, who were being accosted by Lucius.

She heard Remus and Tonks shouting to Harry, something about the other students.

Somehow, above the noise of the fighting, she heard the sound of glass shattering, as a pearly figure arose from dust, and she knew the prophecy was lost.

Civia heard a shout, "DUBBLEDORE!" and turned to see Albus in the doorway, rushing in.

The room seemed to fall into silence at his appearance, and the Potions Mistress abruptly realized that she and Bellatrix were the only ones left dueling.

"Look out, Civy!" cried a voice, and she was shoved to the floor, just as a curse flew over her head.

Sirius took up the duel with Bellatix, just as a curse hit him in the chest, and he lost his balance, falling gracefully backwards…through the Veil.

"NO!" she screamed, just as Harry began screaming, fighting Remus, who was holding him back from the Veil.

She shot to her feet, throwing curse after furious curse towards Bellatrix, who fought back viciously.

He couldn't be gone—he couldn't—he wasn't—

But he was.

Sirius was dead.

She knew it in her heart of hearts, that her dear friend was dead. She'd worked in the Department of Mysteries, she knew about that Veil.

She knew what passing through it meant.

Bellatrix let out a victorious cackle, surely taunting her about the loss of her friend, but Civia did not hear a word the witch said.

A curse flew her way, one she could not block—and her world went black.


She woke up in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey hovering nearby.

"Poppy?" she slurred, becoming conscious of the pain radiating throughout her chest and abdomen in slow waves. "What…happ'n'd?"

The mediwitch sighed as she came to her patient's bedside.

"You were in the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries, I believe, and interrupted a battle between Death Eaters and several students, according to Albus," Poppy replied calmly. "Bellatrix Lestrange cursed you and you passed out. I don't suppose you remember the incantation she used?"

Her memory was foggy at best. "I don't…know. No, sorry, I don't. Everything was…blurred. I don't—Sirius. Sirius fell through the Veil and died…"

Were she a lesser spy, tears would prickle at the corners of her eyes. As it is, she was deathly calm and reserved.

The mediwitch sighed again. "Well, whatever you were cursed with, so was Miss Granger. Though it appears that whoever cursed her did so nonverbally, thereby saving her some pain and misfortune. You on the other hand, Civia. Well. You've been out for a week, and Severus has been brewing potion after potion for you."

Ah.

"I'll have to thank him," she murmured absently.

Didn't she always?


December 1998

Christmas passed slowly and awkwardly for Civia.

Usually, Christmas was a break, a respite for Severus and herself. Even the Dark Lord seemed to have wanted some peace for himself during the wartime holidays.

Lucius apparently would have no such compunctions.

And so their usual routine Christmas was disrupted—though Civia would hardly use the word—by Narcissa's presence in their chambers.

Minerva had been notified about the witch's presence and had given her permission for Narcissa to stay as long as necessary.

Come Christmas morning, Civia found herself in the sitting room with Severus, Narcissa, and Draco.

It was only a bit awkward at first, really, and that was because of Civia.

Severus had been a friend to the Malfoys for years, really, and was Draco's godfather. He was a dear and trusted friend to Narcissa.

Civia, on the other hand, felt like an outsider in her own home. She did not belong with this little makeshift family that they had created.

She was not a friend of Narcissa's, not really. Despite that Narcissa had entrusted her with Draco's safety during the boy's sixth year, they were not close. She'd barely spoken to the witch during the wars, too preoccupied with her husband, and afterwards had been a mess. Narcissa had known for many years that Lucius had been sleeping with Civia frequently during the wars, and while she had understood that "what Lucius wants, Lucius gets" (as she once phrased it to Civia), it did not make for the foundation of a steady friendship.

Still, she did her best to ensure they felt welcome in their little home in Hogwarts. She had purchased a cashmere scarf for Narcissa, and a new, somewhat uncommon Potions book for Draco, as it was the boy's favorite subject.

They in turn had given her a new, elegantly made glass stirring rod for her potions.

Their guests were at ease with Severus, so she did her best to allow the three time together, making for plenty of time in the lab or wandering the grounds.

There were times that she wondered. Watching them, watching Severus and Narcissa interact, she wondered…

But it was none of her business, Civia decided, and firmly chose to stop wondering.

It didn't really work.


"I just don't understand it, Minerva," she said to the Headmistress on Boxing Day.

"What don't you understand?" the older witch asked, sitting in a tartan armchair in front of the fireplace in her office.

Civia sighed. "You know as well as I that Lily Evans—Lily Potter—was his reason for changing loyalties in the war. He was—is?—in love with her, even after she died. I know this. I've known it for so long, but…"

"But?"

"But…there are times I wonder if that love has faded, if he's moved on," she murmurs. "Then this happens."

Minerva leaned forward, concerned. "What happened?"

Civia explained about Severus and Narcissa, how close they seemed.

Once she finished her tale, Minerva laughed. "Oh my dear, you don't honestly think there's something going on between them, do you?"

"I—maybe," she mumbled.

"Then ask him."


"Severus?"

He didn't even look up from his book. "Hmm?"

"May I ask you something…personal?"

This time, his eyes flew up to meet hers, confused by her hesitation; she had never hesitated to ask him questions before. "Yes?"

"Are you and Narcissa—involved?" she eventually sighed. "Or, rather, do you want to be involved with Narcissa?"

He snorted at the ridiculous thought. "What brings this inquiry on?"

"You've just been awfully close lately."

"She is one of my oldest, most sincere friends," he explained calmly. "She's like an older sister to me. That aside, she's still in love with Lucius."

Ah.

Civia hadn't been sure if Narcissa really loved Lucius, and had erred on the side of doubt; she had assumed incorrectly then.

But if Narcissa really had loved Lucius, then that explained the witch's hurt and pain at this, well, betrayal.

It would take time to get over such a thing. Which meant that Narcissa was in no position to even begin thinking of a new relationship.

"Ah," she murmured. "But that doesn't answer my second question."

"I repeat," Severus replied patiently, "She's like an older sister to me. Very dear, very close—but platonic. I couldn't imagine seeing her in that light."

"Oh."

Well then.

"Does that answer your questions?"

She nodded. "Yes. Forget I asked, and forgive me for my prying."

"Already forgiven and forgotten," the Defense professor nodded.