Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all public characters, and the world of Harry Potter. There is no intention to violate copyright.

Pont of View: Draco humbly volunteered to star in this segment.

Merwyn's Horcrux - Part III

Thursday, June 10, 1999 - Day 5

The Headmistress's daftness and her lunacy will cause us to fail. How can she expect a bunch of pranksters and animals to solve this mystery? Professor Snape understood. If my Father were here, he would have the healers from St. Mungo's testing their sanity. "That's it! Draco, I found it!" Granger's shrill screams attracted everyone's attention, and I glanced over her shoulder to see what she discovered.

"Granger, you do realize I am not deaf. At least, I wasn't before you shouted my name. What have you found?" I asked with more interest than what my words would suggest.

"This!" She explained while strumming her finger over the page.

"How very informative," I stated while she puffed at a strand of lose hair. The sensuous act distracted me for a moment, and it disgusted me to realize my interest in a muggle-born. My father would disown me, and I could do no less.

Granger huffed in annoyance, and I wondered how she managed to find the patience for that dunderheaded boyfriend of hers. The text spoke of a ritual for creating a siphoning sphere. It absorbed magic and repelled everything else. "Did it turn Potter into a squib?"

Puzzlement came to the woman's eyes, and frustration soon followed. She slammed her hand on the book and admitted, "We can worry about that later. Merwyn made the sphere large enough to act as another dimension, or a magical black hole."

My eyebrow quirked at her explanation, and I wondered if that was muggle slang for something. "What do you mean by a black hole?"

Stunned eyes stared at me, and I suddenly felt awkward. Did she think me stupid? "Draco, black holes exist in space. They absorb light, energy, and anything else that comes near them."

"Indeed, that does sound like a correct description." She studied me for a second, and I pretended to understand what she said. It needed further study. Was it a muggle fairytale, or did they really exist? "Perhaps, Potter's magical abilities overpowered the sphere. What would happen in that case?" We scanned the page to find our answer, but it mentioned nothing of that possibility.

The muggle born sighed, and placed her arm over the book before turning to me. "Draco, what if it caused an explosion, or an implosion?"

"Potter would die along with Professor Snape." Crabbe or Goyle would ask dumb questions like that, and I did not expect it from her. She rolled her eyes at me, and gave another impatient huff. What did she expect? "We have no time to ponder foolish questions. What is this ritual?"

The woman smirked at me, and flipped through the next few pages until she found the text describing what we needed. "This is very complex," she muttered to herself while she continued to scan the page. "Hagrid and Professor Sprout can get some of the components, but there are illegal ingredients. It angers me to think of Merwyn using unicorn blood."

"My Father has several contacts, Granger. He can get us what we need." The unicorn's blood cost plenty, and I wondered if any of the usual suppliers had what we needed.

The muggle born scrawled a list on a piece of parchment, and created a few duplicates before she called for a house-elf. "Zincky, give these to Hagrid and Professor Sprout. We must do the ritual at midnight, so I need them no later than ten."

The elderly elf vanished, and Granger's quill raced across the page while she made instructions for the ritual. This was no simple charm, and I wondered if she took the complexity into consideration. "Who do you know with the ability to do this ritual?"

The quill stilled in her hand, and she slumped over the book. "Professor Snape…"

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with your choice. You need a practitioner of the Dark Arts, but they work in secret. The favour you wish will destroy them and their family." I sniffed at the air, and thought of the problem. Who would step forward and admit to possessing the needed skill? This was not something we could ask someone to do in secret.

Granger folded her arms and rested her head against them. "How else can Professor Flitwick develop a charm to counteract the sphere? We'll never get Harry back!"

"Leave it to me, Granger." Accusing eyes snapped in my direction, and I ran a hand through my hair.

The feisty woman snorted and shoved the book away from her. "Yes, but can we trust them?"

Brilliant minds were wasted on muggle born students. She lacked the experience needed to understand the workings of the magical world. "Trust is a purchasable commodity, Miss Granger, a lesson you Gryffindors cannot comprehend."

"What?" She gasped and narrowed her gaze on me. "How can you suggest that? Isn't it illegal?"

"Obviously," I stated without hesitation. "Unless, of course, you have a better idea. Please, enlighten me. How do you propose to find someone gifted in practicing an illegal form of magic?"

Granger slammed her head into the book, and sprawled across the table. "It's hopeless, Draco."

"I assure you, Granger, we can manage the situation. Study the ritual, and make notes of everything we need." The leverage gained by this favour would encourage any wizard to do the task.

Granger studied me, as if the past year had not happened. Did I lose her trust? "Draco, if this doesn't work…"

"They will die. Indeed, do you think me oblivious to the seriousness of the situation?" Gryffindors are impossible to work with. How do they ever finish anything?

Granger ran a hand through her hair, and turned her face away. "I apologise Draco, but I still find it difficult to see the dark arts as anything other than evil." That much was obvious. "What if the ministry arrests everyone involved?"

Perhaps, I needed to explain how things worked. "You help Potter succeed. The same applies to me, and my role in the political and social spheres. Together we form a powerful team, and his influence allowed me to make several contacts that we need to secure the proper permissions."

Granger's eyes widened, and she offered a silent nod. I needed to meet with Minister Shacklebolt, and I dreaded that task. He seldom trusted me without Potter, and I suspected he would have several questions that I didn't have time to answer. His political position made the giving of permission an impossibility, but to keep him oblivious would cause us to lose his trust. He needed to deny everything.

Galleons would secure ignorance from lesser officials, and they will make sure the Aurors overlook the matter. My Father exhausted his contacts, and if not for Potter I would have much less political influence. Grandfather scorned him for abusing the fragile alliances established through the effort of several generations. Abraxas misunderstood him and the difficult choices he had to make.

The gargoyle seemed to wait for me, and it moved to the side without my having to give the password. McGonagall's eyes never left the parchment before her, but she waved for me to enter. "Do come in, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you have good news to tell me."

"Indeed, I believe we found the spell Professor Flitwick needs." The parchment lay forgotten, and I became the sole focus of the elderly witch. "Headmistress, it requires a complex dark ritual. We need to convince Minister Shacklebolt to overlook the matter, but he will not listen to me. Will you help me with this task?"

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. It may surprise you that we have already gained his permission to go ahead. The loss of Mr. Potter and Professor Snape would cause chaos for wizarding Britain. He realises that would bring down the ministry, and we must prevent it by any means at our disposal. What do you need, Mr. Malfoy?"

Gryffindors sought permission? What if they did not receive it? What would they do then? The Slytherin method produced better results, but this had potential. "We need a powerful practitioner of the dark arts to cast a ritual. None would ever assist us, because their knowledge would see them and their family destroyed. We need amnesty for the wizard."

The elderly woman sucked in her breath and tapped a finger against the side of her mouth. "Mr. Malfoy, have you any idea of the consequences? England does not need another Dark Lord."

Must I explain everything? Now I knew how Professor Snape felt when he worked as a spy. How did he get these people to understand? "Headmistress, the legality only matters to us. Do we want their help, or not? They will continue to practice the Dark Arts, and having legal consent will make no difference to them."

McGonagall's mouth opened and snapped shut without uttering a sound. She rose from the chair and tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace. "Mr. Malfoy, I assume you wish to join me?" She received a nod in answer, and we proceeded to the Ministry.

Headmistress McGonagall allowed me to explain the situation to the Minister, and he agreed with my request. The man possessed more knowledge of the Dark Arts than he admitted. At least he understood the situation, and we gained the needed amnesty. We returned to Hogwarts, and I floo'd to Malfoy Manor.

Father sat in his chair reading the newspaper. He handed that to a house elf, and folded his hands. "Draco, have you rescued Mr. Potter?" I shook my head in response, and he tilted his. "Why then, do you pay me this visit?"

"Sir, we need your help."

Father's eyebrows rose, and he studied me for a long moment. I hated when he did that, but experience taught me not to interrupt. "What do you wish from me, my son?"

I retrieved the Ministry's permit, and gave it to him. "Father, we need you to do a ritual. In exchange, I have attained amnesty from the ministry. It covers your current knowledge, and permits you to continue practicing dark magic. You do not need to identify yourself."

Father's brows shot into his hairline, and his grin widened. "Draco, your actions please me." My lips parted into a smile, and Father ignored my breech of conduct. "Remove all possible witnesses. Do not tell anyone that I intend to do this ritual."

How did he plan to do that without anyone seeing him? "Sir, I don't understand. Everyone recognizes you." Father's disappointed look caused me to lower my eyes, and he tapped his cane on the marbled floor.

He drew a deep breath, and released it. The disappointment in Father's voice spoke of my inadequacy. "Draco, must I explain everything?" I shook my head in silence, and waited for him to continue. He walked in a wide circle, and clacked his cane with each step.

He paused before me, and I raised my gaze. "Tell them I agreed to find their wizard on the condition that I escort him to the ritual. I alone will know this man's identity. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir. I assume you will hire someone to wear a disguise?"

"Very good, Draco." Father gave me a genuine smile, and I couldn't suppress mine at knowing I pleased him. I offered him a tilt of my head, and floo'd back to Hogwarts with news of having found an able practitioner willing to help us.

Father arranged to meet at nine to discuss the ritual, and he arrived as the clock announced the new hour. An early entrance indicated inferiority, and lateness showed a lack of decorum. "Draco, I trust you made the arrangements."

"Indeed, Father," I said with a respectful tilt of my head. He cast silencio on himself, and we continued the conversation while I led him to the room of requirement. "The others will leave after Granger explains the ritual. She wishes to stay, but I recommend against that."

"The mudblood lacks discretion." My eyes widened at Father's words, and I shook my head to him. He gazed at me, and clucked his tongue. "Draco, do not think me a dundering idiot to say such things around them. Potter's disapproval makes it imperative that I refrain from truthful utterances."

At one time I agreed with him, but now the mudblood issue confused me. He accepted my silent nod, and we entered the room with the others. Minster Shacklebolt stood with McGonagall, and Father greeted him with the respect demanded by custom. Granger became the focus of attention when she started to instruct the disguised actor on what he needed to do.

Father tilted his head to the side in thoughtful contemplation, and asked of McGonagall. "Interesting, is it not, Headmistress. The wizarding world prohibited the gathering of unicorn's blood. Those who do commit a most vile, and evil act. Yet, Hogwarts managed to find a large supply."

It took a tremendous effort to suppress my grin at Father's words, and my gaze landed on the Headmistress. She smirked at him and offered an indignant huff. "Mr. Malfoy, there are no laws prohibiting unicorns from offering their blood. Several volunteered to save Mr. Potter. Hagrid told them what ingredients he needed, and magical creatures from around the world assisted with gathering them."

Father's jaw slackened at the explanation. He recovered within seconds. "Indeed, how fortunate to have such contacts." Father's eyes clouded in thought, and I realized the information intrigued him. What did he have planned? He turned to the disguised actor and asked, "Do you need further instruction?" The man shook his head, and Father motioned with his cane towards the door. "Draco, and I will stay to watch. We will tell you when he completes the ritual."

Granger stepped ahead of the other protestors and said, "We need to stay and see it for ourselves. How can we conduct our research in secret?"

Father inhaled with an exaggerated intake of breath, and stared at the woman. "You do not need to know everything, Miss Granger." He glanced at the ritual scroll and shook his head. "Why would you have this valuable ritual cast in a room you plan to destroy?"

Granger's hands flew to her hips, and she glared at my father in accusation. "You would say that, Mr. Malfoy. It's a vile spell. What purpose could it possibly serve?"

All eyes fell to Father, and I smiled inwardly at the man. How did they not see the possibilities? It surprised me that he would mention anything, but it did give him an opportunity to gain favour with the Minister. "This sphere creates an area that siphons all magic. Imagine its usefulness in Azkhaban. The ministry fights to keep control without using dementors, and they have more guards than prisoners. Many can breech the protective wards."

Minster Shacklebolt motioned for my father to continue, and Lucius offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement. He grinned at the other male and explained. "Wizards rely on their magic, and this will make them helpless. Those who aid escape attempts will also lose their abilities."

The Minister's eyes shone with understanding, but Granger's prejudice against the Dark Arts clouded her thoughts. "That sounds good in theory, but how do you propose to supervise the prisoners? The guards would also lose their magic. Escape becomes easier."

Father clicked his tongue, and rolled his head towards the woman. "Miss Granger, my son speaks of your intellect, but you keep it well hidden." The disguised actors guffaw made my reaction harder to hide, and I forced myself to restrain the amusement I felt at Father's words.

Granger huffed in irritation, and waited for him to continue. "Perhaps, your muggle upbringing caused this lapse. Miss Granger, do you understand the shame of having a squib in your family? Traditional wizarding houses keep their children hidden until their first bout of accidental magic. The others find themselves in muggle orphanages. Do you know why?"

She glowered at his explanation, and it seemed to strengthen him. "Indeed, I thought that would offend you. We detest squibs, because they have no purpose in magical society. Do you know the shame caused by having produced worthless offspring?"

Granger's hands clenched at her sides, and she opened her mouth to scream at my Father. But something changed. Her eyebrows rose in contemplation, and she glanced at Shackelbolt. "Minister, he does make a good point. Squibs can guard Azkhaban. They never relied on magic, and they can focus on physical methods to control the prisoners. That would give them a purpose, and they would offer a valuable service."

My father suppressed the smugness from his grin, but I saw it in his eyes. Shacklebolt glanced at him with approval and mentioned, "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, your idea has merit." He turned to McGonagall and asked, "Headmistress, do you have a proper place to cast this ritual?"

She gave a nod of her head and said, "Follow me, gentlemen. Hogwarts has several cells we have used throughout the centuries." House elves gathered everything we needed for the ritual, and she had Filch lead us to an appropriate room. The squib seemed too pleased by this news, and that frightened me.

Father did a thorough inspection of the cell, and offered a nod of his head in approval. "This will do. Please exit immediately, and he can cast the ritual."

Granger didn't argue this time, and the others turned to follow Filch out of the dungeons. Shacklebolt stayed behind. His gaze never left my Father, and he spoke when the others neared the exit. "They will leave, Mr. Malfoy, but I insist on staying. How do you expect me to give amnesty?"

Blast that insufferable man! "You promised anonymity!" I sneered at him in anger, but the Minister's eyes never left my father.

Thin, long fingers clamped my shoulder, and I quieted at once. My eyes fell to the ground at my father's silent chastisement, and he waited to respond until after the others left the room. The disguised actor cast silencio. The squeeze on my shoulder directed me to look at him. "Draco, I approve of the Minister's presence."

My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to speak. Proper decorum forced me to refrain, and I waited for Father's explanation. "Son, I expect discretion." He did not need my nod, but I gave it to him anyway. "Traditional families hold much of the wealth and power in the wizarding world. The others think they control the ministry."

How could he believe that? I listened while he continued to explain. "They demanded a minister to remove the corruption, and to punish Voldemort's supporters. Minister Shacklebolt holds their same ideals, and he became the central focus of the populace. However, he would never have gained the political influence he now possesses without the traditional houses supporting him."

Did he go mad? "Father, how can you say that? He declared war against the traditional houses, and he imprisoned many. The man is not on our side."

"Indeed, never forget that, Draco." Father stared at me, and I dreaded having disappointed him. "Son, those are the sacrifices we had to make. The pathetic populace would retaliate if they knew their true place. The best situation was a Minister who held no prejudice against the Dark Arts."

My gaze snapped on Shacklebolt at this shocking news. My earlier suspicion proved correct, because he understood more than he let on. The Minister gave my father a predatory grin and spoke in a silky voice. "Magic in itself is not evil, but justice will seek those who use it for such purposes. Mr. Malfoy, you may have permission to practice the art, but I will watch your activities. "

Father sniffed at the air and sneered, "Perhaps, you should avoid making long-term plans, Minister. I cannot imagine you will keep political favor."

Shacklebolt folded his arms and grinned at my Father. "Mr. Malfoy, perhaps it is you who thinks too highly of his place."

"We shall see."

"Indeed, but now we need to focus on this ritual," Shacklebolt continued. "Do you have everything you need, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I do," Father admitted. He gathered the ingredients and set to work. Did he tell the Minister his intentions? How did Shackelbolt know my Father meant to do the deed? The Minister's knowledge did not surprise him, and I had many questions. They would have to wait.

Father's mastery of the Dark Arts made simple work of the task, and he left with the disguised actor after having cast the spell. He did not wish to stay when it took effect.

Another dilemma ...

Professor Flitwick's team managed to create an appropriate charm to fight against the sphere's siphoning abilities, but they ran into a problem. The different groups assembled in the Great Hall to discuss the situation. The little wizard cleared his throat, and glanced at the volunteers. "We can cast the charm on the potion, but the portal presents another problem. It will not allow passage to anything other than a witch, or wizard. Filch could not activate it, and it blocked magical creatures from entering. We cannot cast the charm on the person, because it will deny their passage. Whoever goes after Potter will lose their magic."

Several Gryffindors raised their hand to volunteer, and I snorted at their enthusiasm. It surprised me to realize how many wished to become squibs. McGonagall rose from her chair, and her eyes misted with pride. "Your offers please me, but this duty is mine alone."

Several argued with the elderly woman, but she shook her head. "My age makes me the ideal candidate, but I suspect my animagus will protect me. Identification spells recognize my true form, and they detect our magic despite us no longer having access to it. That alone may protect me from the siphoning effects of the sphere."

The assembled groups broke into shouts and arguments. The mighty Gryffindor's all wished to sacrifice themselves for the noble cause, and their blind enthusiasm jeopardized the rescue. It annoyed me that none of them seemed to realize this. I approached the head table and they quietened enough for me to speak. "Madame Rosmerta may arrive with news of Professor Snape's death. Do you wish to waste his last few minutes with this ridiculous banter?"

The noise and chaos prevented me from saying anything else, but the Gryffindor's gave their reluctant consent to the Headmistress. She needed minimal instruction, and they equipped her cat form with a bottomless pouch. Madame Pomfrey and the house-elves made sure she had rations to feed them for several decades, and Professor Flitwick cast the needed charms. Many had dampened faces when she entered the portal.

Potter's POV - This scene starts with his entry into the portal, and McGonagall will arrive later.

"Neville will laugh wh... bloody bullocks." Was I summoned? Fog surrounded everything, and the dimness made it hard to distinguish anything. Exhaustion overcame me, and I wished for the sleep my body desired. I had to keep awake. My attempt to link with Severus failed, and I couldn't contact Hogwart's castle. My magic felt depleted.

"I'd recognize that annoying voice anywhere," said a familiar sounding man somewhere in the distance. "Has Potter come to rescue me? You of all the blasted people."

Crabbe? "Am I dead?" The misty surroundings made sense. That orb must have killed me.

"Not yet, Potter. You will soon feed my belly if you don't get us out of here," snarled the youth.

Crabbe walked closer, and I raised my wand at him. "I think not, Crabbe."

The obtuse giant roared in delight, and his head flew back with his laughter. "You have no magic, Potter. In this realm, you listen to me."

The magical depletion drained me of my energy. Did the portal have the same effect on Crabbe. Would the near squib even notice the difference? He stepped closer, and I realized he wore the same clothes he had during the fight. Soot covered the youth, and the heat had singed his hair. It had not grown, and the stench of smoke lingered in the air. "How long have you been here?"

The giant sneered at me, and his booted foot kicked into my stomach. "Did you hit your head?" The youth grinned and leaned towards me. He twisted my collar in his meaty fist, and held me firm while his other swung back. I closed my eyes in anticipation, and he laughed. "The Dark Lord wants to kill you himself, but accidents happen."

His fist collided hard against my cheek, and my mouth filled with fluid. He released me when I started to gag, and I leaned to the side. I swiped an arm across my chin, and glared at the youth. "A lot changed since you left, Crabbe. Severus will rescue us, and you will join your father in Azkhaban."

"Severus, do you mean Professor Snape?" Crabbe asked with a hint of curiosity. I nodded my answer, and he guffawed. "Why would Professor Snape want to rescue you?"

It was my turn to stump him. "He helped me kill Voldemort, and then we became close friends." The youth's glare fuelled my delight, and I no longer cared about the beating. "We slew him over a year ago. How did you escape that fire?"

Crabbe curled his lip into a snarl as he sneered, "A year, are you mad? We fought last night. I grabbed a glass ball to throw at you, and then I found myself here."

My eyes widened in horror at the other's revelation. "Time moves slower? One day in here is a year out there?" Crabbe shrugged his shoulders. My mind raced through the possibilities, and I leapt to my feet. "We need to escape, now!"

The youthful giant gloated, "I thought you said Professor Snape would come to your rescue." He grunted in amusement, and folded his arms while he stared at me. "Was that another lie, Potter?"

"No! Crabbe, you don't understand. We have less than an hour to return, or Severus will die. I have to get back to him!" Panic threatened to overcome me at the thought of his danger, but the bond did not affect me like it would him. I had to think.

Crabbe stumbled back and stared at me. "More lies, is that all you have Potter?" The youth was no help, and I tried to ignore him to study the portal. Hermione would know what to do. Walking into it had no effect, and my hand moved through without hindrance.

My experiments seemed hopeless, but I had to continue. The portal flared without warning. A sudden force thrust me backwards, and another stepped through. I recognized the cat at once, and I kneeled before it. "Headmistress, I lost my magic."

The cat nodded at my explanation, and pawed at a parchment strapped to her collar. Crabbe grinned in satisfaction, and slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. He lunged at the animagus and declared, "Dinner has arrived."

McGonagall leapt away from the lumbering giant, and hissed. Her ears pressed against her head, and her back arched while she swiped at him in warning. "Crabbe, stop it! She brought food with her from Hogwarts!" The youth paused in his failed hunting attempt, and he watched while McGonagall nuzzled my hand. He gave us a threatening glare, but I won his silence by tossing food at him.

The parchment spoke of a potion, and it told me how to use it. McGonagall leapt into my arms while I rubbed the substance against the surface of the portal, and an invisible force pulled me closer. Crabbe jumped with more speed than I realized he possessed, and he grabbed my leg as we lurched forward. Bright light blinded me, and I landed on something hard.

Loud cheering erupted at our arrival, and I didn't need my sight to know where we landed. The cat leapt from my arms, and within seconds I heard the proud voice of my former head of house. "Very well done, Mr. Potter."

Agonizing pain and an overwhelming sense of terror surged through the link. "Severus, where is he?"

Madame Pomfrey rubbed at her tear-stained face, and shook her head to McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid we are too late. Rosmerta will heal, but we could not recover Professor Snape." My eyes narrowed on the mediwitch. I sensed him, and I would apparate if I had magic. "There was an explosion, Mr. Potter, in your quarters."

"No, you are wrong! I sense Severus!" Silence met my statement, and I closed my eyes while I attempted to channel the needed magic from him. He became my sole focus, and I realized my efforts lessened his pain. Someone gasped about a glow, but I needed to focus. Several hands grabbed me, and arms wrap around my waist.

I had no time to wonder at their intent while I focussed on our link. Hogwarts shimmered before me, and I found myself among a crowded street in Hogsmead. Severus lay curled into a fetal position, and I recognized the flashes from several cameras. A woman pushed at my chest and commanded, "Move away from this man. His core is about to erupt."

She wore the clothes of a healer, as did the group standing behind her. I recognized the embroidered emblem along her neckline as that of St. Mungo's. "Everyone, back away and let the healers do their work!"

Severus sensed my presence, and he grasped me. Sweat and mud coated the man, but he could not speak through his sobs. Hermione and Draco covered us with their robes, and McGonagall spoke with authority. "Everyone, get back. Harry Potter will handle this."

The voice of the healer broke over the crowd. "Headmistress, I mean you no disrespect. This requires the ability of St. Mungos. Order your people back." McGonagall refused to budge, and the crowd gasped. The entity's magic continued to flow through Severus. Our link channelled it from him into me, but the excess energy had nowhere to go when the orb sent me away.

A glance at the crowd told me all I needed. McGonagall, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Neville stood firm with their wands aimed at the healers. Camera flashes continued without pause, but I had to ignore them. I kneeled on the ground, and Severus curled into me with his head on my chest. I wrapped an arm around him, and magical energy surged into me.

It invigorated me, and my core recharged at a rapid pace. Within seconds it became too much. How could I release it? A burst of energy erupted from us, and it created a sphere which shielded us and pushed everyone back. The excess magic fuelled it. Were the others in danger?

The healers no longer argued with McGonagall, and I hated that everyone focussed their attention on us. Would Severus ever forgive me? The man lay in my arms, and I noticed his breathing return to normal. His fever fell, and I brushed the hair from his forehead. "Severus, can you hear me?"

"Master," he gasped. "Master, you live." With those words, the man relaxed and fell asleep in my arms. The shield gave me control, and I willed it to dissolve. The crowd stood back, and I motioned to McGonagall.

She took a tentative step towards me, and I realized why everyone kept their distance. That had potential, and I decided to use it to my advantage. I waved my friends over, and held out my palms. "Everyone, stay back." The crowd obeyed.

Severus slept while I instructed the others. "Headmistress, I need you and Draco to give a press release." He offered me a dutiful nod, but she seemed reluctant. McGonagall placed her hand on Severus's forehead. His cool skin satisfied whatever concern she had, and she agreed to the task. "Hermione, you and Neville must find Madame Pomfrey. Severus needs the privacy of our quarters, and I don't want him to awaken without Rosmerta. She is a patient at the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey may need your help."

Neville responded with a firm nod. Hermione tucked away her wand and said, "Yes, of course Harry." They glanced at each other, and set off at a rapid pace towards Hogwarts. Neither of them could apparate into the school, but Severus and I did. He woke briefly when I levitated him into the tub, and again when I lifted him from the warm sudsy water. He slept while the charmed rags and brushes scrubbed him.

His moments of consciousness lasted seconds, and I hoped he would think this was nothing more than a dream. I had my doubts. The emotional terror must have exhausted him. I dressed him in his nightshirt, and levitated him into bed.

Madame Pomfrey ushered everyone from our quarters, and we lay Rosmerta next to Severus. She moved him towards the center of the king sized bed, and motioned to the vacated space. "Mr. Potter, I will stay the night to check my patients. Severus needs you near him, does he not?"

I offered the mediwitch a silent nod of my head, and she smiled at me. "Sleep with them, Mr. Potter. I will stay here with you, so do not worry about the potential awkwardness. These are my orders."

Awkward didn't begin to describe the situation, but I understood her intent. What would Rosmerta say? Severus fell asleep in my arms while I helped him through difficult emotions in the past, but none were there to see it. He thinks it a personal weakness, and it took a long time for him to become comfortable with me. How will he feel?

The mediwitch stared at me while she waited for my answer. "None else can know," I repeated. She smiled, and I crawled into bed.