The Uneven Orbit

by LadyofToward

Its 1993, SS and Charity Burbage are unlikely collaborators on a project to defend Hogwarts from the prying eyes of the MoM. Try as they might to keep cool heads, Snape and Muggle-born Charity fall in love but their fate is doomed by her past and his future. In a desperate effort to save them, Snape takes drastic action. - Set against PoA, SS POV, Canon respectful, complete.

26. The Moth

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE MOTH

On New Year's Day, Charity, her parents and her daughter flew back to London, arriving at two in the afternoon. Jason met them in the Arrivals hall at Heathrow, and gave Charity a censorious look when Holly babbled to him about the Faerie Call. Even though it was decent of him to come to the airport to pick up their daughter, especially on New Year's Day, Charity realized she was hurrying everyone. She had already told her parents she wouldn't be returning home with them for a final night, which had been the original plan, and they grumbled a bit but she thought in some ways it suited them to go home to a quiet house after the holiday.

"Come on then," she urged brightly. "The car's on a meter, let's all get home."

When, at long last, everyone was in transit, and she was alone at the airport, Charity's heart started to thud, her nerves thrummed in anticipation. She carried her bags in a sea of people, walking past shops and gates and flashing signs not seeing any of them, wondering if she could disapparate from here to Hogwarts safely. She could do it from Diagon Alley…surely only a few miles difference…

She could almost hear him calling her, almost feel a physical tug on her heart.

As she exited the terminal it was drizzling, but there didn't seem to be anywhere secluded enough to attempt a sudden disappearance. Cameras were everywhere as well, she noticed. She walked for an hour in the cold, gentle rain towards the more industrial end of the airport, where trucks and baggage vehicles travelled, their drivers casting glances at her. When she happened upon a narrow access lane with a barricade, she slipped down it, unseen, and then went around another corner. Her heart sped up. She looked up and around, searching for cameras, but saw none. It would have to do, she couldn't wait any longer. She visualized the gates of Hogwarts, then with determination and deliberation, both easy for her to muster, she disapparated with the familiar lurch.

The rain was falling as snow in the highlands of Scotland. She arrived outside the Entrance Gates in a foot or more of it. The winged boars carried a deep frosting on their backs. She glanced about her quickly, never having splinched before and uncertain of how to recognize it if she had, but she seemed in one piece.

She saw something in the corner of her eye. Looking back towards the train station, she saw the ominously drifting black shadow-like forms of Dementors. She didn't think they were yet aware of her, but panic fluttered in her chest.

Of course the gates were locked and she held the iron railings as she shouted at the top of her voice for Hagrid.

But it was not Hagrid that she saw walking through the drifts of snow towards her. She recognized his frame, his walk, instantly, even with the hood of his black cloak drawn up.

"Severus! SEVERUS!"

He broke into a run, and had drawn his wand to unlock the gates from yards away. She pulled free the padlock, and leaving her bag behind pushed open the gates and ran towards him.

Their embrace was a joyous collision. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her free of the ground, whereupon she wrapped her legs around him also and pushed back his hood and kissed him hard.

"My love, Charity," he muttered when she allowed him air. "Ah, thank Merlin you're here."

When she was on the ground he said, "Is this your only coat? Here," he took her within the folds of his fur-lined cloak and kissed her thoroughly once more. "Never leave me again."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I went away. Oh my god I missed you so much."

Snape used his wand to cast a levitation spell and lifted her bags from outside the gate to where they were standing.

"How did you know I was here?" Charity said, staring at him incredulously. "I'm a day earlier than planned. I wanted to surprise you."

He picked up her bags in one hand, and still holding her close within the cloak with the other, they began the trudge back up the hill to the castle entrance. "I had a sense of it," he replied. "It's felt as though we've been connected since you went. I had a feeling for your movements. When I asked Dumbledore about it, he said it was the Bewitchers Ribbon."

"The Ribbon?" she echoed, knowing what he meant, knowing that tugging sensation, that strange way, in the most unexpected moments, her mind would fill with desperate, sapping longing for him.

"I took the ribbon from your hair. You might remember it encircled us? That was the Ribbon enchanting us with the bond. So long as the ribbon remains intact, so does the bond. Apparently your commitments away tested the bond because it was so new, it's not supposed to be put under that kind of stress for a few months at least."

"Oh," said Charity. "Does a wizard usually remove the ribbon under more…formal circumstances? I mean, is it like part of a marriage ceremony or something?"

Snape gave her a little squeeze. "I expect so, but these are old traditions. My love, I don't think I needed the ribbon to feel what I did, I think I would have missed you to the point of desperation anyway."

They were greeted halfway up the hill by Fang, who barked in a welcoming way, soon followed by Hagrid, who gave Charity a bellowing hello, then stopped at the sight of her. "You look like a drowned rat! Wha' happened?"

"Oh, nothing, I got caught in the rain."

"You mus' be frozen? Stop in by the fire, 'ave a whisky!"

"No," said Severus shortly. "No, I can warm her up myself thank you Hagrid. Dumbledore gave me the spell for the gate lock, but it is still open at present."

"Righto, thanks Severus, welcome back miss Charity."

"I'm so sorry about the news of Buckbeak, Hagrid."

He dropped his eyes sorrowfully for a moment, then offered a brave smile. "Severus passed on what you said…and thank you, I'll keep askin' Merlin for a miracle."

Snape and Charity continued their journey and before long were entering the front door into the Entrance Hall. Something flooded into Charity's heart to be here, something warm and wonderful and familiar.

"Quick," said Severus, barely stopping. "I don't want anybody seeing, no interruptions. To my quarters, quickly."

They hurried across the Hall, to the stairs to the dungeons and straight down, along the dungeon corridor to Snape's rooms, which he unlocked with a breathless muttering, and Charity barely had time to enter before he was upon her.

He shoved her up against the back of the door and pressed himself hard against her, his lips locked on to hers and his hands frenetically undoing the buttons on her coat. She was startled at first and simply stood there being accosted, before she came to and shoved him back.

"What are you doing?!"

"What?" he said dazedly. "What are you doing?"

"You can't…I've just walked in…"

"I know. Thanks to Merlin, alone at last."

She smiled at the crossed wires. "Severus, my darling, I'm cold, I'm wet, my feet are frozen. Can I have a bath and some Restoration Remedy do you think?"

"A bath?! But that will take hours!"

"I will emerge warm and limpid and glowing and all ready for you."

He frowned heavily, opened his mouth and shut it again and stormed off to his bathroom to run the hot water. While she rummaged through her bags for the bubble bath she'd bought him, he prepared a vial of Restoration Remedy and two tumblers of whisky. As soon as the bath was half full, she pinned up her hair and climbed in the scalding water, lathering the soap all over her luxuriantly, and he knocked on the bathroom door before entering with her whisky and R&R. His eyes were dark and oddly glittery as he watched her soaking, then abruptly left and she could hear him banging around in the other rooms. When she felt thoroughly rejuvenated, she emerged wearing nothing but one of his towels. He was in his armchair by the fire, down to shirt and trousers, scanning the paper which he folded and put aside at her arrival. He appraised her openly, then stood and crossed the floor between them in two strides. With a single yank, he pulled off the towel, then scooped her up and carried her directly to his bedroom.

---

The students were returning for second term on the Express on the evening of the second, ready for school to recommence in earnest on Tuesday the third. A start of term feast had been planned in the Hall for their arrival and teachers were expected to attend in full academic attire, as well as be prepared for lessons to commence on schedule for nine am the following day.

Snape had a late order of supplies delivered which needed sorting and stocking, and the inventory updated, and Charity was nowhere near organized, with her bags still unpacked and her curriculum disrupted, so reluctantly the pair agreed the following morning to go their separate ways.

Snape was much placated, however. Knowing she was only metres away rather than miles was far more tolerable as far as his rather vulnerable attachment bond was concerned. He also quite enjoyed the task of stocking up on new supplies. The store of ingredients largely dictated the practical's he would be planning in his double-potions classes, and also what new or experimental potions would be in the offing.

They worked all day, attended the dinner in the evening, then Snape was obliged to settle the Slytherins back in to their dorms as, post-Christmas, there was always a lot of catching up and sharing between the students making them late for lights-out. A Quidditch match was also scheduled for Slytherin and Ravenclaw on Saturday, and so urgent arrangements for practice were being made. "You'll be coming, won't you sir?" said Marcus Flint.

"Certainly," replied Snape, thinking Charity would probably support Ravenclaw. "Make sure you secure the pitch with Madam Hooch first thing tomorrow. And get Malfoy to practice hard. We need this win. Potter's got himself a Firebolt and Malfoy will be up against him next match with Gryffindor."

Flint's eyebrows shot up. "A Firebolt? Who gave him that, sir?"

"As yet unknown. It's presently being assessed for jinxes and hexes but I expect Professor McGonagall will want him to have it back before play. But listen to me – it is a Gryffindor trait to resort to equipment in lieu of resourcefulness. A Firebolt might be quick, but it's only a tool – Malfoy needs to concentrate on wit and cunning, not brooms, to beat Potter. If you're half as much Slytherins as you say you are, you'll have Potter flying as fast as his Firebolt can carry him in the opposite direction of the snitch."

"Straight into a tree if we can arrange it, sir," grinned Flint, enjoying this chat with his Head immensely.

"Well I didn't hear that. But Slytherin have had a tough first term and a win over Ravenclaw will have us heading in the right direction again. We'll worry about Gryffindor when we've got this one in the bag."

"Right, sir. First practice tomorrow after school."

It was late by the time Snape left the Slytherin Common Room. He hesitated in the Dungeon corridor, then picked up his pace again and went directly past his office to his quarters and let himself in. He'd hardly seen Charity all day, and in spite of his compulsion to see her and hold her, he assumed she'd be resting after her long day and broken night, he would be kinder to let her alone. His last thoughts, before falling asleep, were of her.

---

The first school week of 1994 was pleasantly uneventful. At dinner mid-week, Lupin told Snape that Harry had shown exceptional promise in his Patronus coaching. "How are you teaching him?" Snape asked, as it was unusual for a student to grasp this particular spell.

"Using the Boggart," Lupin explained. "His Boggart is a Dementor. He's already managed to create an effective shield."

"Corporeal?"

"No. Not as yet. Won't be far off I don't think. We're meeting once a week."

Snape raised a grudging brow and looked at where Potter was sitting. "Who sent him the Firebolt do you suppose?"

Lupin wiped his moustache with a napkin and shrugged. "Wasn't me, I can tell you that much. Down to the bones of my arse thanks to the Ministry."

"Does Potter have any theories? A wealthy fan perhaps? A rich relative he's unaware of?"

"Well if he's got a rich relative they'd be better off coming forward than sending him presents."

Snape paused to pour himself tea. "What about a rich godparent?"

Lupin coughed and took a draught of pumpkin juice. "Are you suggesting Sirius Black walked into Quality Quidditch Supplies and bought a Firebolt? After, presumably, going into Gringotts to withdraw some money? Then went to a post office to arrange an owl and send it?"

"No. Maybe he went in and bought a Firebolt as a dog."

Lupin scoffed and looked at Snape as if he were quite mad, but Snape was smiling too. "Which is, of course, a preposterous idea. But is it so preposterous for Black to ask an old friend to help him? While he's on holiday in London?"

Lupin was frowning now and had paused from eating. "What are you implying? That I'm in touch with Black?"

"You did make all kinds of promises."

"And even if I were, which I'm not, but even if I were, why on earth would Black want to buy Potter the world's most expensive broom? Your theory is that he's trying to kill him."

"Bait, Lupin. He's baiting him. He knows Potter's old broom got destroyed, he's gone straight to the tastiest lure he can find."

"How would it work if he can't claim credit for it? What's the point if it's all anonymous?"

"Well that's the art of seduction, don't you think? Let the boy get enamored with the gift first, let him feel obligated, let him slowly draw his own conclusions. But this will be in your master plan, Lupin, you tell me."

Lupin huffed and physically pushed away from the table a little. "You just can't let it go, can you?"

"Get ahold of yourself, it's just a few questions," replied Snape mildly. "Or maybe they'll find a hex on it and everybody's suspicions will be confirmed anyway."

---

The following day was bright and mild. When classes were finished, Snape hurried the students out of his classroom and locked up, then swept up Slughorn's Stairs, across the Hall to the marble steps up the first floor and along the corridor to the Muggle Studies classroom. Charity was in there, tidying up, and smiled warmly upon seeing him. "Oh hello you."

Snape stopped to look around, surprised. "Where are your posters?"

"I took them all down yesterday," she said. "A conciliatory gesture for Dumbledore the Disapproving."

Snape narrowed his eyes at her, skeptical. "I thought he was just Displeased."

"No, he disapproves. He thinks my classroom is far too Muggle-ish for Muggle Studies."

A snort of laughter and Snape shook his head. "Just give him time."

"Not sure I have that. He told me that Sir Byron has organized a meeting at the Ministry next week about the curriculum. First item of business for the Board, he tells me. Not that I'm invited."

"This is good news?" inquired Snape cautiously, walking up the aisle between the rows of desks towards her.

As she bundled up the days' assignments, she replied "Worrying news. It depends how hard Sir Byron pushes it. I really don't need Dumbledore venting his frustrations on me." She turned then and beamed at Snape. "By the way, thank you for fixing my microscope – it's working perfectly!"

"Ah. Good. The, uh, typewriter, I'm afraid, isn't in such good shape."

She laughed at his disquieted expression. "Really? It's kind of hard to break a typewriter."

"You must come to view it as a noble sacrifice in the pursuit of discovery."

"Well I haven't been down to the archive in some time, so I'll have a look next time I'm there."

She hefted the assignments into her arms and Snape hastened forward to take them off her. "It's just homework for marking," she said. "Thank you. I was taking them to my office."

"And after that?"

"Well, uh, if you've got a suggestion…?"

"I thought a walk? Slytherin are practicing this afternoon and I was going to go to the pitch and watch."

Together they went to her office and deposited the homework on her desk. She said, "But Slytherin are playing Ravenclaw aren't they? How would it look if I were there at Slytherin practice?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well fine. So long as you don't expect me to clap or cheer. And what about Dumbledore? We were supposed to keep things low key."

"That gossip has been and gone. We are yesterday's news. As far as the teenagers are concerned, we are an old married couple and I'm sure they'd prefer not to think on it too closely."

Charity laughed aloud, easily visualizing a group of fourteen year old's feeling vomity at the idea of them together. "Alright, you've talked me into it."

She collected her coat and Snape fetched his cloak and they stepped out into the late afternoon winter sunshine, causing snow to melt and the icicles to drip.

As they walked towards the Quidditch pitch, they chatted harmlessly about their week so far: Snape informed her of the alarming invoice he'd received for the fresh stock and how he hadn't broken the news to Dumbledore yet. She showed him her new analogue watch that she'd unpacked from her bags. He told her about his chat with Lupin and she was astounded at the theory of Sirius Black sending a Firebolt. She told him that Sinistra had broken up with her boyfriend after a huge fight at the staff party when Lupin had chatted Sinistra up. It was exceedingly pleasant and relaxed.

The Slytherin team were already up in the air when they arrived. They took seats in the Slytherin box and waved at Flint and Bole as they swooped past with incredible ease and proficiency. The bludgers were beaten back and forth and Flint hollered instructions to the other players while Malfoy could be seen at height practicing turning and stopping maneuvers.

"Severus," said Charity after a few minutes of watching the sport. "This weekend. I know we must stay for the match, but afterwards – well one of us will be celebrating, won't we? Not just whichever team wins, but it's your birthday on Sunday. Remember I said we should get away? What do you think?"

He took up her hand and squeezed it, smiling at her. "I think it is a fine idea."

"What would you say to staying at my place in Bedford? It's countryside, practically. And it's been a few weeks since I was there so I should just check in on things."

"I can't think of anything I'd like better."

She smiled broadly at him. "Really? As simple as that?"

"Would the Muggle in you prefer it if we complicated things a little?"

She laughed. "I suppose I must be living my life in expectation of problems at the moment. No. Let's keep it deliriously simple. Bring a toothbrush and a change of clothes."

"Will we be going out?"

"Perhaps for some dinner?"

"Then it is all arranged."

---

The match on Saturday started at eleven am. Under a dry but cloudy sky, the stands were full, all Houses except Slytherin supporting Ravenclaw. The Slytherin supporters held their own, however: chanting, whistling, stomping, waving banners and flying emerald green serpent flags. They honestly didn't need the support of anyone else, they were so strong in their own self-conviction. Snape was wearing his green and silver robes for the occasion, sitting amongst the students, deafened and uncomfortable but genuinely needing this win for his House after months of debilitating knocks and slips. He didn't know for sure if the graffitist was sitting in the stands with him, he just had a strong feeling that the offensive, personal slurs came from a disgruntled Slytherin, probably a Fetherington cohort, and maybe Bass knew more about it than he was letting on. But right now, he needed them all to unite and feel some of that emerald kick in their veins, remember the pride of being the oldest, strongest, most successful House at Hogwarts.

Once the teams had cruised on and taken position to rousing cheers, Madam Hooch released the balls and blew her whistle. The snitch zipped left, right, then whizzed away out of sight, hotly pursued by Malfoy, who lost it and cornered sharply against a stand.

It was an intense game right from the start. The Slytherins took an early lead when the quaffle was thrown and immediately taken by Montague, who narrowly avoided a careening bludger from Inglebee and a collision with Burrow as a result. The quaffle went through the third hoop cleanly within minutes of play, and Roger Davies gave his keeper a mouthful.

Penalty points were given to Ravenclaw when Peregrine Derrick beat the bludger upwards from below directly at Stretton's broom, almost knocking him off, then Warrington took advantage of a distraction to get another quaffle past Page.

Bole was so busy keeping a bludger away from Marcus Flint, who was marking Roger Davies, that Stretton intercepted a quaffle played by Montague and zoomed down the other end of the pitch directly through Warrington and Derrick to score, Bletchley having picked the wrong hoop to defend. It was agreed this was the best play of the match.

Snape saw Malfoy cruising at height, scanning, and Cho Chang preferring to cover more of the middle ground. Find the damn snitch, Snape transmitted mentally, even though that was obviously was Malfoy was doing, but was he doing it enough? The sunlight through a thick blanket of cloud was hard and bright and the snitch would be largely invisible against it. Did that height give him an advantage? He suspected Cho Change was using whatever shadow was available from the stands to provide visible contrast.

Clever Ravenclaw played well, that was undeniable. The chasers were their strength, which they had invested in over and above their seeker, intending to accumulate short, sharp points knowing that Bletchley was probably too heavy as Keeper to keep momentum over a sustained attack. Roger Davies shadowed Flint closely, Slytherin's best chaser, to steal the quaffle, and the Ravenclaw beaters focused more on clearing a pathway for the chasers than trying to hit their opponents.

It took two hours for Ravenclaw to accrue 165 points, with thirteen goals and 35 penalty points. Slytherin had scored two goals, 15 penalty points and the pressure was building on Malfoy as the remaining team started to tire.

Behind him Snape heard a Slytherin roar "Use your fuckin' eyes, Malfoy!" and the snitch zipped past the stand a second later. Snape jumped up and gave an earful to the fourth year who had somehow forgotten he was seated directly behind the Head.

Flint left play suddenly to fly up to where Malfoy was cruising. There was a conversation, Malfoy looking defensive. Then Flint suddenly pointed and gesticulated and Malfoy swung about, closely watched by Cho Chang. Malfoy clocked the Snitch whizzing up and over the Hufflepuff stands, all but camouflaged amongst the yellow, and he took off after it so quickly he was lifted out of his seat on the broom. Cho Chang bolted after him, but she herself had not sighted the snitch.

All eyes were on Malfoy. He crouched low on his broom, becoming as streamlined as possible. The snitch flitted at a right angle from the Hufflepuff stands directly across the pitch, low to the ground, and players hurtled out of the way as Malfoy shot after it. The sharp right angle had caught Chang late, and she lost meters of distance still frantically trying to lock on to the little golden ball. The Slytherins began a chant "MAL-FOY, MAL-FOY" and spectators practically fell over the guards trying to point him in the right direction as the snitch struck left and up. It was almost possible to hear Malfoy's Nimbus 2001 screech on the tangent, swoop under and up, and then he was mere inches away from the snitch.

Randolph Burrow, in the meantime, got another quaffle past the diverted Bletchley, but nobody was watching when a few seconds later, upside down, Malfoy closed his hand over the snitch. Right-side up again, grin visible to all, he held it high above his head and did a victory whirl.

Snape was up and clapping while serpents all around him whooped and yelled and stomped in their stands. He hadn't realized his heart had been in his mouth for that last sequence of play, and his relief was palpable when Hooch blew her whistle and called time. Slytherin had won, 185 to 175.

The players all landed on the pitch and shook hands. Slytherins loved beating Gryffindor, but their favourite team to play was Ravenclaw, appreciating a better deployment of strategy and tactic. While Slytherin had literally scooped the win, everyone agreed that Ravenclaw had played brilliantly, and Gryffindor were going to have their work cut out.

All the students and teachers made their way back up the hill, chatting excitedly, faces ruddy and breath pluming in the cold. McGonagall and Flitwick both shook Snape's hand, now that the season had just become a close call, and Snape said that Ravenclaw had been the better players. Alone again, he looked around for Charity, and eventually spied her, in blue and bronze, with a striped scarf around her neck, smiling and laughing with a group of Ravenclaw students.

She spotted him waiting for her and she separated herself, then walked towards him with an enormous grin. "That was fantastic," she said. "You did not deserve to win."

"I know. But they're the rules."

"In fairness, Malfoy was all over that snitch. Did you see that upside down thing he did?"

"Once somebody else had pointed the snitch out for him. But he's quick on a broom, all told. I wonder whether Lucius will be investing in a Firebolt when he hears about Potter."

Keeping a respectable distance in the middle of the swarm of students, Charity couldn't, however, keep a gleam out of her eyes. "When will you be ready to apparate?"

"Let me congratulate the team, then I am ready to go," he told her, the corners of his mouth lifting in return.

The Slytherin Common Room was in very high spirits when he entered, multiple bottles of Butterbeer having been obtained from somewhere and shared about generously. Still dressed in Quidditch uniform, Snape was easily able to make out his team members in the centre of the throng, and hollered at the celebrating teenagers to clear out the way and let him through. He gave Flint a thorough handshake and congratulated him, Malfoy as well, and then somebody, possibly inspired by their Head of House in green, shoved a Butterbeer in his hand and shouted "Speech!"

Snape wasn't a lover of butterbeer, finding it unpleasantly sweet for his taste, much like pumpkin juice, but this wasn't the time to get precious. He took position with is back to the fireplace so that the large stone serpent above the mantelpiece was visible and raised his bottle and said clearly above the now-silent crowd: "To Slytherin!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Thanks to our boys in green and silver we have literally snatched back a chance at House victory. Congratulations to the team."

"THE TEAM!"

"There will be time enough to dissect play and analyse our strengths and weaknesses. But right now is not that time. Celebrate! You played hard and you played to win. I was proud of you out there, and I'm proud to be Head of this House. Long live the Serpent!"

"HURRAH!"

Snape took a long swig of his beer, joined by the House members and the celebrations kicked off again. It was his cue to leave.

Careful not to draw attention to himself leaving the room, he slipped away and then hurried down the corridor to his rooms where he collected his black leather hold all which he usually used for trips home to Cokeworth. He locked all his rooms securely, then departed for the Hogwarts Gates, which was the meeting point with Charity.

Halfway down the hill he heard her calling behind him. He turned and waited while she caught up, noticing she'd changed out of her Ravenclaw colours into Muggle slimline jeans, hooded cable knit sweater and leather boots. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, and she finished the relaxed look with a mischievous grin and a suede, patched backpack. "Look at us sneaking away like lovesick teens," she said, immediately giving Snape a cuddle. "Quick, before we're intercepted!"

Not needing any further encouragement, they half-ran to the gate and Snape, who still had the lock code from Dumbledore, opened it with his wand on approach.

He scanned once for Dementors and not seeing any, they stepped outside, then he re-locked the gate behind them. There was a bark, and Fang ran out of the trees near the gate, skidded to a halt on seeing them and barked the alarm.

"Hagrid will be on his way," said Snape. "I take it I'm sidealong?"

Charity nodded, smiled and raised her arm and they linked together, then picking her studio apartment's back door as the destination, they disapparated with a crack, just in time for Hagrid to hear as he came tromping through the snow for his hound.

A red bus was drawing to a stop at an intersection alongside Charity's corner street as the pair materialized on the paved back step of her Shakespeare Road, Bedford apartment. A passenger on the bus saw them, blinked, leaned back to stare speechless as the bus pulled away again, otherwise Charity and Snape were alone and both sound.

"These are my digs," she said, as Snape looked around. "Welcome."

"Thank you."

"Have you been to Bedford before?"

"No."

"Well it's lovely here. I chose here because it's not too far from…Jason, and Holly, in Royston. Anyway, come in."

She unlocked the door using keys she had to fish out from the bottom of her backpack, while Snape stood impatiently fingering his wand. They entered into a clean but slightly airless hallway, that was also as cold as outside. "Heating," she said to no one in particular. "I'll turn it on."

"Shall I make a fire?" offered Snape, feeling rather awkward, and not uncomfortable per se, but uncertain.

"Hah, no fireplace Severus, this is a modern Muggle home. There's a gas fire in the living room you can turn on if you want. I'll check the hot water cylinder."

Charity spent several minutes wandering around the apartment dealing with the issues of heat, water, light and ventilation. She chit-chatted away as she worked, explaining that her visits were so intermittent that the place had to be re-started every time she came back. Snape's place at Spinners End was similar, except there was no electricity and he didn't bother with it during winter so heating hadn't really been a problem.

She had a pile of mail on the hallway floor that Snape gathered for her and deposited on the wooden dining table, on his way through to the living room. It was an older, renovated residence, and many of the original character features were in evidence throughout - cornices and ceiling roses, pressed metal, toggle switches and window levers, there were elegant scrubbed oak floorboards in the kitchen and dining areas which he liked immensely, and deep window seats she used as bookshelves. There was a spartan feeling however, which didn't ring true with the person he'd come to know. She liked her creature comforts, she imbued sentimentality into objects and liked them around her, she may have been a scientist, but she also derived great pleasure in beauty and art. This seemed to be missing from her apartment. It was clearly a transient place, unsettled.

He found the gas heater and after a few minutes, figured out how to turn it on. The flickering flames behind the glass screen seemed very paltry compared to a real fire, in his opinion, and it took a good while before he could detect any warmth coming from it. A clock in the kitchen informed him it was close to half past two, and he realized that as well as cold, he was hungry.

There was a fridge in the kitchen, humming. While he knew exactly what it was, it was still novel. The fridge in his Cokeworth house hadn't operated since his parents had died, and there were none at Hogwarts, so he opened it and stared inside. But for a block of butter, some sauces and a jar of pickles, it was empty. The freezer was even more impressive, having accumulated a thick crust of dire-smelling ice. He amused himself briefly with the automatic light in the fridge, and then Charity walked in.

"Oh – are you after something to eat?"

"I don't think you have anything."

"No. We'll have to go out."

He waited.

"You don't seem very relaxed," Charity observed, looking at him standing in head to toe black under the fluorescent light and white paint of her kitchen. He looked as if he'd stepped out of a time tunnel.

"I'm…fine. What would you like me to do?"

He was more than just anachronistic. He was starkly other-worldly, but like a creature that's washed up on the beach, out of their element, he couldn't do here what he was made to do. She felt as though she might have disempowered him, bringing him here, whereas she felt more in control.

She reached out and took his hand. "I'd like you to come with me."

She led him out of the hard lighting of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms and bathroom. She spent more time in these rooms when she was here, and had softened the master bedroom with a warm-toned coverlet, rugs on the floor, heavy drapes, cushions and pillows. There were photos of Holly in frames on the bedside tables, books and pictures and lamps with printed shades and a television set opposite the bed.

She stood him beside the bed and removed his cloak, which she draped over a chair, undid the buttons at his collar and loosened his tie, then wrapped her arms casually around his neck and reached up for a leisurely kiss. He responded as if starved, emitting a throaty groan before picking her up and throwing her on the bed. "Look," she said, with a wicked smile. "Queen size!"

She was lying with her head resting on Snape's bare chest explaining how the remote control worked as he, propped against the pillows, scanned the TV channels. He paused at the news. "That's Major, the Muggle PM," he commented and she agreed. "About as effective as Fudge." Flicking through some more he came across a commercial for a cleaning product. The lady in the commercial had a wand which she waved to make her benchtops sparkly clean. Snape snorted. "That seems to be the most imaginative use for a wand Muggles have come up with." Charity chuckled with him. Some more flicking and he struck a movie channel showing The Exorcist. "Dark Arts," he remarked presently, after watching it a bit. "I know the curse she's under. He thinks she's possessed, but it's a curse. She's crossed somebody."

"So the Muggles who made this movie, who won't believe in magic, have accurately recreated the effects of a real curse?"

"I don't know why Muggles don't believe in magic. They obviously see it sometimes."

She idly ran her fingers through his fine chest hair, listening to his voice rumbling up from somewhere very deep. Her eye caught her watch, which compelled her to check the time. "Oh my god, it's quarter to six. We should go out and eat. Aren't you hungry?" She took the remote off him and turned off the unfriendly sounding movie.

"I've been hungry for several hours, but you very capably distracted me."

She smiled at him. "I have something for you Severus. It's a birthday present, okay? Wait here."

Throwing on her sweater and knickers, she went to her wardrobe and withdraw a parcel wrapped in plain gold paper, which she brought over to him. "Many happy returns!"

Snape accepted it almost reverentially. It brought to mind the presents his mother would get him on the 9th January, an extremely inconvenient date for a birthday so soon after Christmas when his parents seemed to view him as inconvenient anyway. But his mother had tried. Clearly only remembering at the last minute, she would often get him a box of chocolates from the corner store, or ask the neighbor if her kids had any hand-me-downs or wrap one of her old textbooks from Hogwarts. This was how he had acquired a book on potions which had commenced him on a lifelong journey. The best thing about the potions textbook was that it had felt almost new, and he had few things of his own. She had apparently taken a spartan interest in potions at school and never explored any part of the book that hadn't been used during instruction. But Snape had read every single page numerous times before he'd stepped foot in Hogwarts. He begged her for a wand, for a cauldron, believing that even if he couldn't get actual boomslang skin, he could catch an adder and maybe that would work just as well. He would gather the ingredients himself, many of the potions were Celtic in origin and available locally even if these days it would take a bit of work to get them. Irene saw that he was determined, but fretted about Toby, what he would do if he came home and found the boy brewing in the kitchen over the gas stove. "Just wait till you're older, sweetheart," said Irene. "We'll go to Diagon Alley. We'll get you a wand of your own. Just be patient."

"Open it!" said Charity, not discerning the reason for his pause. "It's not super significant or anything, but you should open it now."

So Snape undid the giftwrap and revealed two fine merino jumpers, with high collars, in charcoal and midnight blue. He'd never owned anything similar before. He didn't speak.

"When you're with me doing Muggle time, you can wear these out and about and nobody will pay you any attention," Charity explained. "If you wear your coat, I think it will attract attention. The Muggles will think you're off a period film set or something."

When he still didn't speak, she hurried on. "I got colours I thought you'd like. And the collars are like your coat. So it won't feel that different wearing them."

He reached up and gently kissed her on the lips. "Thank you. I shall wear one tonight."

"Come and have a shower with me," she said. "then we can go."

When Charity came down the stairs with her backpack, Snape was waiting for her in the living room standing by the gas fire, as was his habit, even though the effect wasn't the same. He looked, however, stunning in his new sweater and she stared for a long time before he realized she was there. "You look great!" she announced and he turned, frowning, smoothing down the wool.

"It feels very different…"

"I know. It'll take some getting used to, but you look…fantastic. It makes you taller!"

"Is the fit..?"

"Fit's perfectly. And wool will get roomier. Just don't give it to the elves to launder! Give them to me when they need cleaning and I'll bring them back here. Where did you get your coats from anyway?"

"Madam Malkin."

"Ah. So that's how she knew you." She checked her watch. "I know a place that serves oysters. What do you think?"

His face relaxed a little and he smiled. "Lead the way."

"I've just got one little favour. Can you give me five minutes to make a phone call – I want to say goodnight to Holly."

"Of course."

Charity put down her bag and went to the wall-hung phone in the hallway. Jason answered.

"Hi Jason, it's Charity. I'm calling from my apartment. I just wanted two minutes with Holly."

"How come you're at your apartment? I thought you said you wouldn't be back from the school so soon after term started."

"It's just an overnighter."

"But you know I needed someone to take Holly tonight, I had to rearrange all my plans. You could've helped me out."

"I'm with someone, okay! This had been planned for weeks."

"Oh I see. One of them, I'm guessing. We'll maybe you should put him on the phone and he can explain what the fuck I should do with your daughter!" yelled Jason bitterly.

"What are you talking about?"

"That bloody fairy thing you got her. She took it outside the other night and started it and we had bloody insects for miles all over the garden."

Charity almost dropped the phone. She was speechless for a moment and Snape watched closely. "She..she started the Faerie Call?"

"Yes! Took it outside in the middle of the lawn and next thing, bloody moths or fireflies or something all over…"

"How did she start it?"

"She said she used her wand, you know the plastic one, but she must've found out how to turn it on. I never got a proper look at it, because it got confiscated by your lot."

Her Holly. The evidence at last, the clue. Not uncontrolled, like her immature magic had been, but deliberate and by design. She imagined her little girl, on her knees in the grass at twilight with her pink plastic toy wand, tapping the Call. She had channeled the magic from her genes, directed it to achieve an end. How?

She dragged her attention back to the phonecall, to the words Jason was saying. "Confiscated? What happened?"

"Some blokes turned up at the front door saying they were from the Ministry and wanted to investigate an incident. I thought they were from the government, but there was no car, nothing. They had just appeared. As if by magic. I put two and two together. They asked a lot of questions about Holly and then confiscated the fairy thing. I told them that you were a teacher at the school – what's it called? Hog? Cow something?"

"Hogwarts," she said impatiently. That was quick of the Department of Magical Accidents. Holly would have recognized the fairies, but Jason was either to determined to think they were insects, or he'd been charmed by the Reversal Squad was hard to tell. She wondered if any of the neighbours had seen.

"They'll probably want to talk to you. In the meantime, your bloody daughter decides she's a witch."

"She's our daughter, Jason. And yes, I'd say she probably is a witch because there is no on-button for the Faerie Call!" Charity's eyes caught Snape's. "She used magic and that's why the Ministry showed up."

He sighed heavily into the phone. She remembered his words at Christmas, insisting that Holly was normal. It would explain why he didn't seem too surprised now – she had a growing suspicion that Holly had been showing signs of magic for some time.

"Well I'm pretty much stuck here with this and you know I'm not good with it Charity. I can't handle her by myself if she's up to this kind of caper. You're going to have to move back to Bedford and start helping me with her. It's not fair to leave her with me like this when she's turning into one of your lot."

He meant move back to Bedford permanently. He wanted to change the custody arrangements.

"Besides," he added, in a more conciliatory tone. "I think it's time we talked. It's not right, raising her like this. We were good over Christmas, weren't we? We got along. And how happy was she, having us together again like a family?"

"We're not a family, not like that, not anymore," said Charity quietly, and she shifted slightly away from Snape, who suddenly looked hard at the floor.

"Families come in all sorts of ways, these days. And she's seven now – if she doesn't have a sibling soon the gap will be too far apart."

Charity could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Are you seriously proposing this? I'm not a brood mare. Holly has never asked for a sibling, anyway!"

"We'll talk about this later," said Jason, his bitter tone resumed. "But I'm getting in touch with my lawyers, Charity, I want to revisit the custody agreement. You've been at that school for, what, three years now? I've had her ninety-percent of the time. It's not fair on her or me. You need to ditch that job and get something closer to home."

There was a plunging sensation inside her. Charity had dimly wondered how long this would last, she knew this day would come but she'd blocked it, locked it away in her head. Jason had fought tooth and nail for custody and she'd relented then because teaching in Scotland had become a possibility. Now she was showing signs of magic, he couldn't shove Holly aside fast enough.

"She'll go to Hogwarts when she's eleven. It's only four years away! I can't lose my job there, she'll have to move and live with me in Scotland."

"No. You're not taking her to Scotland."

Anger flared, a flight or fight reaction to Jason's typical pig-headed unreasonableness. Then she noticed Snape had taken a seat on the sofa, arms resting on his knees and head bowed.

"You're right. We'll talk about this later," she hissed into the phone. "Now put Holly on."

Jason swore under his breath but fetched her daughter and Charity chatted briefly with her, scolding her lightly for using the Faerie Call, but amazed at Holly's recount of the dozens of fairies that had apparently been drawn from garden sheds and alley ways. With kisses down the phone she ended the call and hung up, then tentatively joined Snape on the sofa. She put her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You probably heard what happened."

"I heard enough. So, you are the mother of a young witch."

"I can't believe it. I never saw any sign. Then all of sudden she's doing this."

"She activated the Call on purpose. That means she's already conscious of her abilities."

"Perhaps. I mean, she was just copying me, she has a toy wand, and it's possible she inadvertently channeled some magic. But it certainly wasn't uncontrolled."

Snape nodded. "Then I can understand why your ex wants you to be more present for your daughter. My father was the same, almost afraid to be left alone with me. You don't want her being raised as if she has something wrong with her, something she needs to hide or be ashamed of."

He lifted his own arm and drew her into a comforting embrace, but his expression was reserved and solemn. She kissed him lightly. "Let's go for dinner," she said. "I could use a glass of wine."

Charity ushered him out, desperate to lift the mood while they had such precious time together. They walked to a nearby Italian bistro and shared a bottle of red over pasta and talking hard. After that, she took him to a wine bar where they shared oysters and she joined him in a scotch and at last he began to thaw, sitting side by side on a soft, deep leather sofa near the window, watching people outside and cars drive past, the Saturday night Muggles making spirited conversation at their tables while a piano tinkled in the background. In their secluded corner she snuggled into him and he murmured, "The last time I used my wand was to unlock the gates at Hogwarts. How long ago is that? At least nine hours. It would be years and years since I've gone that long without using it."

"Now you know why I keep forgetting mine."

"But it's so tiring being a Muggle. Having to open everything and get up to fetch things and turn things on."

"No elves, either. When we get back to my place, the bed will be all unmade, just as we left it."

"Well that's not necessarily the end of the world. After all, I was intending to mess it up again."

Charity looked up to smile at him but found him flinching instead, as if in pain. "What's the matter?"

He stretched forth his left arm. His teeth were gritted. Then he took a big gulp of his whisky. "Dark Mark," he muttered, shutting his eyes, waiting for the pain to ebb. A few moments later he exhaled deeply. "That was a test. Short but sharp."

"He's out there isn't he," she said grimly. "He's going to call for you. How will you know when it's time to go?"

He didn't want to answer, he didn't want to think about it, not tonight. Not ever. They had just spent dinner making plans, about getting a place in Scotland together close to Hogwarts, putting Holly in a local school and going home in the evenings, together, like a family. She could live with them during term, then in the holidays see her father, grandparents and Snape would have Charity to himself again, in their cottage with a garden in Scotland somewhere. Somehow they would convince her ex, somehow he would learn to live with his child, he would do it all for Charity because it was the only future he wanted. Her eyes had shone as they discussed it, buoyed by the ever-present hope that rose in him like a spring, that made him so resilient and he had thought to himself that he never wanted to be anywhere where he couldn't see her eyes.

They were like soldiers battling across the Somme, under constant fire, getting hit and falling, then getting up again, putting forward foot after foot until hit again, and thinking that there was a line out there somewhere they could cross, if they could just cross that line they would be safe, left alone to be together, which was all they wanted, and if they could just get up again and go a few more feet, maybe that would get them to the line. How many hits, though? How many hits could they take?

Charity could see that Snape had retreated again and she sat quietly next to him, not letting go of his hand. After a while he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "When we get back to Hogwarts," he said, "I am going to teach you to cast a Patronus. I want you to be able to reach me at all times."

---

The week back at work passed largely without incident, through to the middle of January, the sky commonly a glaring white and cold winds constantly threatening more snow. The fall that had been on the ground had now melted and when it re-froze overnight, turned into extremely dangerous, slippery ice that required constant vigilance when walking on stone outside. Madam Pomfrey was kept busy attending to a multitude of bumps and bruises.

The final audit report was posted to Hogwarts and enclosed with it the Certificate to showed the school had met standard. This was framed and hung in Dumbledore's office. The accompanying letter stated that they would be due for re-audit in two years or so, so Charity made a point of spending several hours in the archive carefully packing, labelling and storing all the results of the first audit so that it would be easy to refer to the next time.

She felt slightly nostalgic being in the archive. It was redolent of simpler, easier times, of her blossoming affection for Snape, of being busy and having a project. She discovered the typewriter which no longer worked, several dead mice which Snape had left where he'd blasted them, the chair she had sat in when he invaded her mind, charred logs in the fireplace from the last time it had been lit. A sudden upsurge of conviction that her time was running out crashed through her chest and made her head swim; somehow she knew this would be the last time she would visit this archive…this quiet, serene refuge where she and her elf had invisibly toiled away for months documenting Hogwarts history. Nobody had visited her. Upstairs, aboveground, adventures on a grand scale had rolled out, and yet down here she had been undisturbed, like a mole, until that day she had opened the door to Severus Snape.

A sob escaped her and she put her hand to her mouth to stifle it. Would her future be different now, if she hadn't? Had he somehow brought about her imminent demise? She thought that, like Lily, yes, somehow, perhaps not directly, not intentionally, but somehow, her fate had been tripped by him, the day he stepped through the door and looked at her, pointed out the cobwebs in her hair. She had noticed him long before he entered the archive of course, it was hard not to, so tall, dark and imposing. In staff meetings he was always so serious and commanding, she'd been a bit in awe of him. But when he came into the archive, he had seemed so much more approachable, and being in awe of someone, and liking them as well, was a heady combination. Perhaps she had fallen for him as early as that meeting, or perhaps a person's life was like a train, tied to tracks of destiny, and that she had been born to love him, she had just been waiting until that moment when her train travelled down that section of track.

It didn't matter now. She was on this journey and there was no going back, but she clutched like a drowning woman at the plans they'd made at dinner, the perfect little life they'd described to each other, these would keep her afloat, they would carry her to safety, she would live to walk through the front door of that cottage with her daughter and her true love, and they would die old together, it had to happen because she wanted it so much.

But trembling legs made her sit on the armchair, and look around for the last time at her archive, the bittersweetness of it making her heart ache.

---

Snape took her for her first Patronus lesson down near Hagrid's hut. School had finished for the day, the Gryffindor Quidditch team were practicing, and she had agreed to accompany him more to be with him than anything, since they'd barely seen each other the whole week. But even though she was delighted to be with him, even outside on this steely, January eve with the denuded Forest looking raw and primal, he was nonetheless in teacher mode, and so brooked no foolishness, was impatient with poor effort, and had no tolerance for her pleas to start easier. "You are an accomplished witch, Charity, there is no reason why you shouldn't be able to do this!" he barked at her when her wand, feeling rather shocked and bewildered she sensed, produced a whisper of nothing.

"It's hard!" she argued, but took position again. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

"Don't just shout it out," frowned Snape. "What are you conveying through your wand? What are you instructing it? Have you told it what you want?"

"Yes!" she sniped back, but the Patronus that followed was willowy and transparent.

"Well that's just going to feed them," said Snape, referring to Dementors which was their opponent of choice. "Watch!"

He did a demonstration, his shield Patronus expanding into the space before them, shimmering, almost pulsing with energy. "This will keep them back, this is what you need."

She waited for him to put his wand away again then said, "I thought you said you wanted us to be able to communicate. How is this doing that?"

It was a fair question and he knew it. "You've heard of a corporeal Patronus. It is an image, a…a manifestation of your true self. The magic you dispense to produce a shield Patronus is the same magic you need to produce a corporeal Patronus. Your image, your animal, whatever it is, won't reveal itself until you have learned how to concentrate, how to channel that particular magic stream. It's an ancient magic, but if I could put it in words – it's as if the magic extracts from you the essence of who you are in animal form – it's the stuff that's in your genes, Charity. Let your scientist put down the logic and just…believe…"

"Now listen," he said, more gently but no less persistently. "We're going to get this shield Patronus working, and the more you feel it, the more you'll know what to feel. Does that make sense?"

"What's your Patronus?" she asked abruptly. "If you sent your Patronus to me, what would it be?"

He straightened and his face went suddenly blank. "A doe."

"A doe?" she repeated, frowning. "Like a deer?"

"A female fallow deer, I believe. A female red deer is a hind." He was matter of fact. Blunt.

She shook her head, confused. "But I thought you said your Patronus is like..like your essence. How is a female deer the essence of you?"

"Are you ready to try again?"

"Can I see it?"

"You're wasting time, my love. We are against the clock."

"I want to see it. Explain it to me."

"Are you going to push this!" he suddenly shouted. "We have to be back in the school in half an hour!"

She was stunned and shocked for a second, then she threw him a furious glare and started marching up the hill towards the castle. "I don't have to put up with that!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Sorry. I'm sorry! Charity!"

She couldn't resist when he said her name, and paused, but kept her back to him.

"I will show you," he said, and something in his voice told her he was doing this in spite of himself, perhaps better judgement, and she turned.

When he saw she was watching, he took his wand, swirled it and non-verbally produced his doe, which sprang from his wand and capered a moment before him on the frozen grass. Then it stood still and awaited instruction. Charity watched. Snape spoke to the doe and it twitched its ears, pawed at the ground then scampered a bit before trotting up to her. It was silvery, smoke like, a silhouette more than a replica. When it was close to Charity, she heard in Snape's quiet voice, "You are my reason for being." Then the doe turned and sprang away, evaporating into air.

The doe had been beautiful, undoubtedly, but if she hadn't heard the words in his own voice she doubted she would have ever attributed the doe to him. She came back down the hill to where he stood. "That doe is not yours."

"You saw it come from my very wand."

"I did. But that's not you."

"You expected a bat?" he asked drily.

"No! Fuck you Severus – I hate that you don't give me any credit. Don't give me platitudes and then assume I don't know anything. I know you. I know you. That doe is not the essence of you. Whose is it?"

"What do you mean 'whose is it'? It's mine."

"I'm not buying it! It doesn't add up. You were telling me the truth when you said a corporeal Patronus is the essence of your true self, your spirit in animal form, that I believe. Then you were resistant when I asked to see yours, you were hiding something. And then you produce the doe. Which is patently not your animal spirit, or the essence of you at all. Tell me the truth!"

He hesitated, then she said, "I think I know."

"What?"

"What was Lily's Patronus before she died?"

His resultant expression answered her question. He slowly shut his eyes and turned his head.

"It's hers! That doe is Lily's! Isn't it?! Answer me Severus!"

"I didn't choose it!" he replied hotly, still unable to look at her.

"So how does that happen? You end up with the Patronus of someone else? Oh my god, this is like finding your husband has left everything in his will to his first wife!"

"You wanted the truth. I can no more pick my Patronus than the colour of my eyes. It became the doe when she died, I don't…I can't…"

"But don't you see!" Charity said, hot tears springing to her eyes despite herself. "She's here! She's still…she's still…"

"I love you, Charity!"

She shrugged, opened her mouth but the tears were balled up in her throat. "In a way," she uttered eventually, and walked away up the hill, leaving him there on the edge of the trees.

---

She and Snape didn't speak for two more days. She did, however, speak to Lupin, after seeing a murderous looking Snape leave the Hall after his Slytherins one breakfast, she got up for her seat and re-located to the one he'd vacated, to the surprised look of Lupin, who almost choked up his coffee.

"Coffee, what a great idea," she said. "May I?" and indicated to his coffee pot.

"By all means. You can order them you know, from the kitchen."

"It's not why I'm here," she acknowledged with a small smile as she poured herself one in Snape's empty tea cup. "I want to ask you something."

Lupin was undisguisedly curious. He frowned hard and said, "What can I possibly help you with?"

"Promise you won't tell Severus?"

"Nope!" declared a high and mighty Lupin. "You know Severus and I share absolutely everything."

"Alright, then it's this. You seem to know all about Patronuses. Severus is teaching me so I can produce a corporeal one. So I asked him to show me his. And guess what his Patronus is."

"Ah," said Lupin, and took a small sip of his coffee. His expression had changed from polite enquiry to guarded realization. "His is a doe. Doesn't seem to fit, does it?"

"No it doesn't! But it's not his. I don't know what his own Patronus is, but guess where the doe comes from."

"Lily," he replied after a subdued moment.

"Yes! How did you figure that out?"

He paused, started to speak then abruptly closed his mouth.

"I know he loved her, Remus, that's not news. I want to know why he got her Patronus."

Lupin issued a resigned sigh. "I should start by saying there is no single controlling force or logic over Patronuses. But there are some very loose, general patterns. That is all. So all I can really tell you is based on probability, a very flimsy understanding at best."

"I'll take that."

"James' Patronus was a stag. Very big, very imposing, James all over really. When he and Lily fell in love and married, hers became a doe, the female version in the relationship. It's a pattern we see with Patronus's everywhere. A love bond exhibits itself through the Patronus as an animal pair. When one partner dies, the other takes the Patronus, but since James died as well as Lily, well…"

"But…I know Severus loved Lily, but she…I didn't think she…"

Lupin could see the anguish on Charity's face, trying to understand, trying to apply Muggle logic and reason to the problem. He felt for her. "Don't try to figure it out, Charity, it's not even something Wizards truly understand. And in fairness to Severus, he didn't have any say in the matter."

"Does it mean that she loved him all along?"

Lupin half considered this, half dismissed it outright. "No. No I don't think so. She loved James, of that I'm sure."

"Do Patronuses know something about ourselves that maybe even we don't?"

He looked at her levelly for a long moment, her eyes knowing the truth even if she didn't want to hear it. But he owed her that. "That is possibly true."

---

Her scientist was driven to find the truth of the matter. She practiced her Patronus charm for hours when she was alone, in her classroom, in her quarters, but most often out in the grounds, thinking Snape must have chosen that place for a purpose. She preferred the edge of the forest, but sometimes down by the lake, and sometimes behind the stands of the Quidditch pitch when no one was using it.

Between herself and her wand, they started to figure it out. Her wand was unused to this kind of demand, and at first played dumb. It had a lifetime of being unused followed by household magic – this kind of thing wasn't in its poplar and unicorn makeup.

But she persevered, and more, she had a burning curiosity to find out what her own Patronus was, whether it in any way reflected Snape because in some way she needed to claim him back, she felt the doe had kicked out the chair beneath her feet, that it knew something she didn't, that the message it had delivered to her was a horrible, putrid lie – even if they didn't know it yet.

Somewhere in her was a Patronus of her own, and it would tell her, she knew, it would give her an answer.

In the evenings, ducking away, she would find a deserted spot and practice. Her shield Patronus grew steadily stronger, and with repetition she discovered, that like riding a bike, once she had synchronized with her wand, progress was one-way. In the Forbidden Forest one evening, her protective shield was strong enough to light the way through the trees for yards, and she sent startled birds out of their roosts and rabbits bolting for their burrows. She was tempted to try it out on a real Dementor and actually went down to the Hogwarts gate, thinking she could try it out from the safety of her own side of the gate if one came drifting past, but though she waited half an hour, none did.

Then one evening, when she was practicing near the Forest, she bumped into Hagrid gathering firewood. "Hello there Professor," he said cheerily, his arms laden with kindling. "Out by yerself?"

Fang came loping up and nosed her, his tail wagging lazily.

"Hello Hagrid. Yes, I'm quite alone. But I wanted it that way. I'm practicing."

"Practicing being alone?"

"No, no – practicing some magic. I have as much to learn as some of the students here."

Hagrid shrugged philosophically. "Well no one ever stops learning, Professor. What are ye practicing then?"

"Charity, Hagrid, you know that. And I'm trying to learn the Patronus. Can you do it?"

He looked as if she'd asked him if he could fly. "No! No, I can't do no Patronus. Tha's for proper wizards like. Do you know that Dumbledore 'as the most magnificent Patronus I ever seen. Bet you can't guess wha' it is."

She thought for a moment then answered, "A phoenix?"

"How'd you know that?!" he responded in amazement.

"Lucky guess."

"Professor McGonagall. Do you know hers?"

"No. I don't. Tell me."

"A cat! She's an animagus."

"So is Professor Lupin's a wolf?"

"I don't know. I 'and't thought of that."

She laughed out loud at his thoughtful expression. "And what would yours be, Hagrid, if you had one?"

"I don't know, no-one knows. But I think I would like a dragon."

"Are you confusing Patronus's with pets?"

"Maybe if you really wan' something enough. So what d'you think yours'll be then?"

She sighed and shrugged. "I honestly don't know. That's why I'm trying to produce one."

"Are you 'opin' it'll tell yeh summat? 'Bout who you are?"

She smiled at his down-home wisdom. "I guess so. I think that might be right."

"Well then, good luck. And if you get one, tell me what it is." He waved at her, then called up Fang and turned in the direction of his hut.

She'd lost the last of the dusk light and it was getting cold. Something heavy settled in her heart, a desolate conviction that she would never be good enough, in fact, she could count the ways. Not a good enough scientist, good enough teacher, good enough wife, good enough mother, not good enough to replace Lily in Snape's heart and not good enough to even produce a Patronus. She was average at everything and special at nothing.

She looked up and saw stars, the first of them, only dim but it was nice to see something other than cloud up there. She imagined the light from the stars travelling forever through time, just to humour her eyes for this moment, the light that would continue travelling for thousands of years, to vanish to nothing, unseen, unwitnessed, unnoticed. So much of existence went that way, perished without note. Blades of grass, tiny creatures, things at the bottom of the ocean – they formed, they lived and then they went. They had their moment under the sun and seemed grateful for that alone.

As she made slow steps towards the castle entrance, she felt her wand in her hand vibrate a little, as if in encouragement, and she said in her mind to her wand, let's make a Patronus, and then she closed her eyes and let herself flow through her fingertips, her whole self, like starlight streaming through space, claiming her time on the earth.

Non-verbals were her strength. She didn't speak to her wand, she let it connect to her and she felt it receive her message and give a tremor, and then almost of its own volition it performed its own spin, and when she opened her eyes, she had produced a Patronus.

The glowing white, translucent form before her in the dusk was more wisp than structure, but it had a movement that she focused on because it was so recognizable – the Patronus had wings and the wings were flapping, and the creature flew about her haphazardly as if flight were new and a strenuous activity. Her first thought was that it might be a bat, and that was her slightly odd connection to Snape, but no, the wings were not bat-like at all. Then she thought – it's a butterfly! which was unexpected, because she didn't know insects could be Patronuses, then she thought, of course! A fairy? And she had convinced herself the ethereal, misty form was a fairy even though she puzzled over why that was her essence in spirit form - perhaps because there had been so many in her life lately. She studied the Patronus as it flapped a while longer, deeply dissatisfied with her own assessment the whole time because it wasn't ringing true to her, fairies did not fly like that, and it came to rest on the trunk of a dark tree. It raised and lowered its wings once more, and then was still, the wings flat against the bark, and then she was able to see, completely and perfectly, that it was a moth.

Her heart jumped with joy. She had loved moths as a child, and would often sneak outside after bedtime during summer to watch them gather around the porch light, or feed on the night-blooming flowers. If they found their way inside the house, she would gently scoop them up in cupped hands and resist the instinct to drop her moth as its little feet and wings tickled her skin, then release them into the hedges along the side of the house, where, she had felt, they would prefer the dark and safety. Her friends at school, naturally, were inclined to butterflies, their extravagantly coloured wings adorned jewellery, t-shirts, pencil-cases, but Charity pledged allegiance to their dowdier cousins, liking their evolutionary choice to exploit the night, for that was her preference too, their quiet, understated beauty, their softness and fragility.

As she grew older and studied more, she learned that moths in warmer, foreign climes could grow large and rather spectacular, and when she saw the displays in the natural history museum she marveled and the incredible variety, the extent to which these mysterious and overlooked creatures had reinvented themselves and steadily capitalized on incongruous niches for survival. She interpreted and respected that as a kind of intelligence.

So she was somewhat ashamed at herself that it had taken her so long to recognize that her Patronus was a moth. A fairy? What had she been thinking? Here was her old friend of the night, awaiting her instruction. She paused to examine the Patronus a little closer because she saw some detail in the shape of the wings, now it was lying flat and still. She committed the shape to memory, vowing to look it up, as she knew that in this variant would be more secrets to unlock.

Then she decided to try it. Send a message to Severus Snape, she told her Patronus, transferring a mental image of him. The message is: I've done it.

And to her astonishment, the Moth flapped its wings and took to the air again, circled her once and then flew off in the direction of the castle. Charity had to forcibly stop herself clapping her hands in delight, but she couldn't prevent an enormous grin of self-satisfaction and the pleasure of having found a new friend.

---

Later, after dinner, Snape caught her at the door of the Great Hall as she was leaving, which didn't entirely surprise her and she gave him an expectant smile. "May I walk with you?" he asked.

She had been heading to the library, and he fell into step. "Of course. I haven't seen much of you these past days. You must be busy."

He ignored this, as they both knew it had been her that had been making herself scarce. "The moth is yours?" he enquired, but it wasn't really a question.

"So she found you! It was my first attempt."

"Yes, it found me. I was greatly surprised, firstly by a Moth Patronus, which I've never heard of before, and that it was yours. You must have been practicing."

"It wasn't easy, Severus. I've been spending hours outside. I was starting to give up."

"Then I applaud your perseverance. It's a rare accomplishment. Your witchcraft abilities may run deeper than you know."

Coming from Snape, she took this as a huge compliment. "Thank you. I'm actually just on my way to the library because I want to look up what kind of moth it is. I know a bit about them and I recognize that the shape of her wing is significant. I just can't remember exactly what kind it is."

"I'll join you," he decided.

They were quiet for a while in the library, both searching the shelves for the right section for the information she sought. The library was heavily biased to subjects either taught at the school or that had direct application to wizardry, and so regular books about wildlife were few. However she found a book about the Patronus Charm, entitled "The Patronus: ancient pathways to your spirit protector" and Snape found a generic Butterflies and Moths of the British Isles.

They took a seat at a table with a spare gas lamp, and the students at the other end of the table suddenly found excuses to pack up their studies and move away, which was fine with Snape and Charity.

The first thing she did was flick through all the pictures of moths. While there were a good number of colour plates in the book, the author also informed them that over two-thousand species of moths alone had been recorded in the Kingdom. "I don't think it's in here," she said, her mind scanning back to her early years, her trip to the Museum. "I think it's a big moth, and I think it's from somewhere like South America or Asia."

Snape raised a brow but took the book back to the shelf and returned with another, titled: A Collectors Guide to Butterflies and Moths. Charity was impressed. Maybe she had underestimated Madam Pince's bibliotheca.

This was a slightly less scientific journal, but it did have a large representation of colourful pictures and photographs and it didn't take long before she kept coming back to a very large moth, as large as grown man's open hand, with extensions on the forewing and a thickset body, but short antennae. While the colour photo showed an attractive pattern on the russet coloured wings, her Patronus had been a slivery white and so that provided no clue.

"An Atlas moth," Charity muttered to Snape when she was satisfied she'd pinpointed the correct one. "It comes from Asia. Why would that be my moth?"

Snape examined the picture and read the description. "This might explain it. It's also known as the snakehead moth – look at the wings."

Of course. When she looked again at the picture, the image of a snake's head in each of the forewing extensions was incredibly clear. The snake had a black eye, mouth and even appeared to have scales – it was remarkable, a miracle of natural selection. "A defense mechanism, do you think?"

"Almost certainly. Clever little thing."

"So there is the connection to you, Severus. And also my prophesy, it would seem. Snakes and I are intertwined, apparently. Will snakes be my undoing or be my savior, do you suppose?"

She looked up and met his dark eyes, which were troubled and unable to answer. He said softly, "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, my love."

She squeezed his hand. "I know, Severus. It's what you do."

She read a bit further. "There's something else," and her throat constricted. "Obviously it goes through metamorphosis, a plain caterpillar emerges as this beautiful moth, but then it only lives a short while, two weeks at best. It doesn't even have mouthparts because it doesn't eat."

"You're reading a bit much into this, Charity," said Snape, sensing a catastrophic interpretation. "After all, you have mouthparts."

She laughed in spite of herself and thumped him. He smiled, then added thoughtfully, "I'd prefer to think of it as a creature that navigates by the moon. That it's attracted to light. To some, the terms light and truth are interchangeable. Your Patronus says you are a seeker of truth."

She liked that.

She wiped away a tear with the heel of her palm, and then – prying eyes be damned – she pulled Snape's head to her so that she could kiss him. "If I'm a moth, are you my flame?" she whispered.

"Not a candle, a star," he replied, in a voice so deep it was almost unintelligible, and he kissed her back.

"Merlins' beard!" came a loud exclamation, and Madam Pince came stomping up to them. "Are you aware that you're in the library?! I've a good mind to report you both! Out! If you're going to carry on like that, out!"

Unable to suppress a giggle, Charity rose obediently and handed the book on Patronuses to Madam Pince. "I'd like to borrow this please."

Students all around the library were goggling at the fracas, some snickering at two teachers getting caught red-handed, even funnier that it was the Potions Master.

"You can borrow this when you've learned some respect, young lady. Out!"

As they left the library, Snape paused in his stride to take her hand. "Come to mine, tonight. It's Friday. I want to…spend some time with you."

She cocked her head at him. "I've missed you too. But…I've been wrong footed all week by the Lily thing. That's one of the reasons I wanted to read that book, I want to understand why your Patronus is a doe. Is it because you still love her? Is it because she loved you?"

Four seasons crossed his face; first and foremost was frustration, but also despair, irritation and resignation. Several times he started to speak but changed his mind. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and let them hang. "Is there any point? Any point in telling you?"

"Definitely. If you're not in love with her anymore."

"She's long dead, Charity..."

"That's not a no."

"Do you differentiate between being in love with someone, and just, sort of loving them?"

She thought, yes she did. She understood that difference. "You have a love for her. Different from the one you have for me."

He nodded. "I will never stop having a love for Lily, because…because she deserved it. I was the one who let her down. She might have taken her friendship from me, but I…I don't just stop."

Charity frowned, considered this. "Do you think, perhaps, that the doe is representative of your love for Lily, in a sense, but is in fact a projection of your loyalty? When she died, it sought a home in the one who had guarded her most fiercely, who had been as loyal to her as her own husband?"

He raised his brows reflectively. "It's all possible, my love. The Patronus is an enigmatic thing."

"What was your Patronus before the doe?"

At this his face relaxed and his mouth twitched at the corners. "Only briefly. It was a fox. I liked him."

She grinned at this. She could totally imagine it. "Yes, that makes perfect sense."

"Moths, deer, foxes – we've had quite the menagerie. Now, come to my room."

"Alright, Reynard."

---

Over the weekend, Snape and Charity walked the grounds a few times testing her Patronus. Moths and deer were exchanged with messages, some romantic, some silly, all frivolous given the purpose of a Patronus. But, Snape argued, it was worth it for the practice, and also for her wand to become familiar with the command, almost like a kind of muscle memory.

Every time the doe presented to Charity, she would have a twinge. She tried to reason it away, tried to be logical, but she couldn't help it. Jealousy was there. Why did she not feature in his Patronus? What was this hold Lily had on him? She privately wished he'd have his fox back but she didn't speak of it, in fact resolved never to raise the subject of Lily again.

By Sunday evening, after two nights spent in Snape's quarters, she was ready for her own bed. Stress and fatigue were setting in, and he was the same. The phone call with Jason the previous weekend felt like a guillotine above her neck. She worried about Holly and their future. The panicky sensation that an hourglass was eating at her time would not go away. She was anxious about Dumbledore's meeting with the Governors. She fretted about the students, their opinions of her, the gossip, the graffiti.

And Snape: he had his own hourglass, stamped on his wrist. If his Dark Mark had called again he didn't tell her, but sometimes being with him was like sharing space with a snarling, pacing, caged cat. It was often a mystery what was going on in his head, his moods could be unexpected, disconnected. As often as he flared up, he shut down – she could see the moment doors were closed and shutters drawn, his eyes would go suddenly blank. It was harrowing.

As she crawled between the cool sheets of her single bed in her quarters, luxuriating in her cheesy flannel pyjamas and socks, she was conscious of a tectonic shift occurring again, of climate change in her relationship with Snape, that brief as their relationship was, it had never had time to simply exist on an even keel. Their love was a mere fledgling, exposed at the top of a tree that was being buffeted in a storm – it had to endure so much.

For the next few days she focused on her classes, using lesson plans recommended in the teacher edition of the subject text, but they were dull and meaningless. The author, it transpired after she made subtle inquiries, came from a longstanding wizarding family that could be traced back to Godric's Hollow, a fact on which she automatically assumed some sort of connection to the Dumbledore's. What personal experience the author had of living as, or amongst, Muggles, was tenuous. Written in the seventies, the text was now also seriously dated as far as Muggle technology, science and economics were concerned – half the countries on the world map had changed. Rather sardonically she stepped her students through the learning goals, careful to keep her attitude neutral, but it was difficult when they asked when they could use Lego again, or where the cool posters had gone, or how did Muggle engineering survive earthquakes (the '94 Los Angeles earthquake was a contemporaneous subject since the Magical Congress departments in California had suffered some damage and the Ministry of Magic were sending reinforcements).

---

Although it was uninspired, it was a few days of respite from the tumult that had marked her life more recently, and so it was a surprise to her when, on Wednesday afternoon, first period after lunch, she was in her office filing student reports from the previous year, when she heard Dumbledore hailing her through the Floo.

"Charity? Are you there?"

"Yes Headmaster. What can I do for you?" she responded immediately, this being highly irregular.

"You can come to my office, please. Now, if convenient."

"Of course. I'm on my way."

"The Gargoyle will be expecting you."

Once he was gone, she stood in her office and took deep breaths, willing her pulse to slow. This would be the first time back in Dumbledore's office since the nightmare meeting, from which she'd never truly recovered. Her anxiety levels had soared at the very prospect of going back there.

She put on her robe just for a sense of security, checked her reflection quickly then left her office, locking it behind her. She remembered her dance with Dumbledore at the staff party - he'd been perfectly pleasant – solicitous even – and had given every appearance of a person wanting to reinstate good terms. She focused on this as she made her way to the Headmaster's tower.

When she entered the office, she found Dumbledore sitting in his armchair opposite a visitor, also seated, the remnants of tea-things on a small table beside them.

The visitor, who was a striking looking but older woman, perhaps in her fifties, had white and grey streaked hair pulled back in a tight knot, and wore an austere, dark grey suit with a mandarin collar and a coat-of-arms emblazoned on the left breast. She stood up when Charity stepped into the room, and gave a concerned smile. Charity felt as if she'd seen her somewhere before.

"Ah Charity, thanks for coming so quickly," said Dumbledore, also standing. "You may remember this lady – her name is Candace Peacock. She's with the Ministry, in Law Enforcement. You've apparently met before?"

At the name, Charity immediately recognized the features of the woman who was now extending her hand. She shook it automatically. "Candace on the broom," she said, remembering the guardian-angel like witch who had just as mysteriously exited her life as she'd entered it in the park that afternoon.

"You remember..." The woman seemed pleased.

"Yes. I remember. But it was – how many? Twenty-odd years ago?"

"Twenty-five."

"I was eight, maybe nine?'

"That's right," said Candace, smiling in a more relaxed way now. "I'm so glad you've come to Hogwarts. You have great abilities and for a long time we thought you were gone to the Muggles forever."

Dumbledore conjured a third chair and motioned for everyone to sit again. He poured fresh tea and handed them around. "Charity," he said, while he was busy, "for many of us it seems our past is never truly in the past. Do you remember much about why Candace made your acquaintance as a child?"

"A little. You were worried about Dr Ditton's experiments. I didn't know about the Ministry then, but I do now and I've understood a lot more recently about why you were there."

"I'm not an Aura anymore," said Candace. "I head up the office for Improper Use of Magic. But when this case came up again, I asked to be appointed. You see, I've just been explaining to Professor Dumbledore -,"

"Albus, please."

" – Albus, that Dr Ditton has been to your parent's house. He's looking for you."

Dumbledore and Candace both watched as Charity processed this news. She felt prickles up her spine, alarm bells sounded in her head. "Why?" was all she could think to ask.

"We don't know exactly. But we're connecting his reappearance with the incident at your ex-husband's house recently, your daughter…"

"The Faerie Call…"

"My staff attended that incident, Charity. Your ex-husband told my officers that you worked here and we've connected all the dots. Somehow Dr Ditton found out too. He knows that Holly is your daughter, but he's gone back to the last place he knew you were – your parents' house."

"How did you know he went there? I haven't heard from Mum or Dad about it -,"

"I've been to see them. The Aura office placed a protective ward around your house when you were young that could detect if Ditton approached the house. We'd forgotten about it, but he triggered the alarm. When I realized where it was, I took the case. I told your parents I was coming to see you today. I've told them you'll be safe."

"Holly?!" said Charity, eyes suddenly wide. "Does he know where Holly is?"

"No. At least not from your parents. They didn't reveal anything. But I wouldn't leave it too long, Charity, we don't know what he wants."

"Can – can you put that ward over my husband's – sorry, my ex-husband's house?"

"Not without your ex-husband's consent. Can you talk to him? Explain what's happening?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "What does this Dr Ditton want with you, Charity?"

She had a flood of memories of the time in his laboratory, the questions, strapping down her arms for electrical conduction tests. Then she raised her brows matter-of-factly. "Simple. He wanted to find out if I could do magic. He didn't call it that of course. He described it as being gifted, having unique abilities. He wanted to crack the genetic code, but they didn't have the tools then; he combined laboratory testing with field study, quantitative and qualitative – a mixed research approach. He had the theory, he just had to prove it…but the proof is locked up in DNA and he couldn't get it then…"

"So if he can prove that magic exists and is genetic -," began Dumbledore, but Candace cut smoothly across him.

"Not an original theory, Albus, other scientists have attempted it. We have shut them down, and we shut Ditton down too, in the late 60's. But we couldn't find all his research. The others were already considered…experimental…by the scientific community and a quick Confundus curse or Obliviation were enough for them to be ostracized by the Muggles themselves. They dwindle to nothing. But Ditton already had tenure at the University, they have a history of pharmaceutical research there and the Sixties were open to all manner of groundbreaking theory. He survived our efforts, it would seem."

"Can't we just shut him down again?" Dumbledore asked.

"My team are already on it. He's got smart though. The Human Genome Project in the US has just announced its five year plan – I think he wants in on it. He wants a seat at that table and he wants to prove his theory. A blood sample from Holly may be enough evidence to get him an interview, certainly enough to write a scholarly article on the subject and get peer-reviewed."

"The Human Genome Project is a decade away from a full map though…" said Charity.

"It's the credibility he needs," responded Candace. "The time. The funding. He's approaching retirement now, he's got nothing to lose anymore."

Charity frowned, remembering Dr Ditton and his umbrella. "He didn't strike me as the type to break the law though."

"Not Muggle law, maybe. I don't think he'd give a damn about the wizarding community if he found out about it. He'd crack it open like an ants nest. In the name of science, of course."

Candace's expression was grim, and a chill went through Charity, feeling somehow responsible. "We didn't know. My mother just wanted help for me…"

Candace shook her head and her features softened. "I spoke to your mother. She was great, she just wants you safe. She didn't do anything wrong and neither did you. I just wish the Ministry had found out about you sooner."

Dumbledore leaned forward and took Charity's hand, which he patted soothingly. "Ms Peacock and I were discussing what action to take before you could join us. We think you need to make your daughter your priority right now. Go with Candace to your daughter's home and talk to your ex-husband so the ward can be placed over his house. Or, you can relocate Holly to your parents."

Charity blinked and looked at Candace. "Now? But -,"

"Now is probably best. I came by Floo, but if we leave together we can apparate."

"It's OK, Charity, I will take care of your classes and so on," said Dumbledore.

"Can I talk to Severus?"

Dumbledore hesitated a second, then smiled and said, "Naturally. I'll call him by Floo and ask him to meet you at your rooms. You can fill him in while you gather your things. Then call me back here when you're ready to go."

Candace looked questioning at the mention of Severus, but Charity decided to let Dumbledore do the explaining. Feeling shaky, alarmed, she excused herself and left the Headmaster's office with as much professionalism as she could muster, having concluded that his office and herself were just a terrible mix.

A few minutes after letting herself into her room, Snape showed up at her door. She opened it and immediately he said, "What's happened?"

She led him inside, shut the door and then flung herself in his arms. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "It's alright, it's alright, tell me what's happened."

"Remember I told you about the Aura called Candace? When I was a kid?"

"Yes…at the dinner - ?"

"She's here. I have to go with her. Dr Ditton is looking for me. Looking for Holly."

Snape looked utterly confused. She pulled away from him and opened her wardrobe, blindly pulling items out and throwing them on the bed. He followed her around while she worked. "Dr Ditton? That scientist at the University? That man?"

"Yes. Him. He's back, like my own little Voldemort."

Snape's arm twitched at the name and his eyes narrowed but he didn't refer to it. "Back how? What do you mean? Why is he looking for you?"

Charity explained it all to him, her voice catching occasionally. "Jason will freak out. This is not good."

"But what can this Dr Ditton do? Kidnap you? Surely he doesn't pose that great a threat?"

"I don't think so either, but the Law Enforcement office is taking it seriously and Candace Peacock has asked for the assignment specifically. My mum and dad will be wondering what the hell is going on. Dumbledore says I'm to go with her today, now."

"Well yes, he's right, Holly's welfare is paramount. How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe a few days?"

Snape stood straight at this information, and swore under his breath. Then without warning, he slammed his fist against the wall, making her pictures rattle. "Why? Why is there always something? Why must this always be so bloody hard?"

She stopped what she was doing to give him her full attention. "I know. I feel that too."

He swore again and ran his hand over his face. Then, with his eyes closed, took a deep, meditative breath. "Tell me everything I need to know about Dr Ditton. Where is he? Where does he work? Where has he been. What does he know about you?"

Charity briefed him while she packed, telling him everything she remembered, everything Candace had just told her. Snape listened without interruption.

"Keep in touch with me," he finally said when she had finished and stood zipping up her backpack before him. He touched her cheek.

"I'll send my moth. I'll tell you what's happening."

"Where's your wand?" Snape asked. She had it inside her robe and took it out to show him.

"For Papus's sake, don't lose it."

"I don't want to go," she said to him, blinking back tears again. "I'm worried about Holly, but I don't want to do this. I don't want to leave you again."

"A few days. That's all. For peace of mind."

She felt oddly empty inside, as if systems had short-circuited after an overload. Instructions ran in her head: do this…now do this…but she was detached from it all, not present in the moment. The only sensation that was getting through was the touch of Severus's fingers.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her eyes. "I'll come with you now."

Charity's fire wasn't lit, so she didn't bother using Floo powder, instead she and Snape walked together to Gargoyle Corridor and along the way asked a portrait to deliver the message to the Headmasters Portraits that they were coming.

They waited at the Gargoyle on third floor and presently Dumbledore and Candace emerged, dressed in winter cloaks and coats. "Hello Severus," said Dumbledore, and introduced him. "All ready to go, Charity?"

She nodded and forced a smile.

"Then let us go to the gates. I will see you both off."

Rather somberly, all four walked down the icy hill to the Entrance Gates. The further away they got from the castle, the worse Charity felt. It was like the Green Mile. She reached out for Snape's hand and he gripped it tightly.

Snape checked for Dementors at the gate but it was clear so Dumbledore unlocked it and Candace stepped outside after shaking Dumbledore's hand. When she came to shake Snape's hand he said, "Who will be watching her?"

"I will," she replied, looking at him steadily. "At all times. I did when she was young, and I'll do it again now."

"She can produce a corporeal Patronus. If she needs me I want her to send one."

"She'll be safe, Professor Snape."

Dumbledore turned to Charity in surprise. "You can produce a Patronus?"

She nodded, a weak smile. "A moth."

"I'm not surprised at all," said Candace. "There's a lot of magic in this girl. Say goodbye for now, Charity."

Although her heart felt like exploding, she could only give Snape a demure hug in front of the others. She couldn't look him in the face.

Candace linked arms with Charity and said, "Make the destination somewhere at a discreet distance from the house. If Holly is at school, we'll walk from there."

And then the two witches disapparated with a crack, and Snape stood looking where they had been for a few moments, then Dumbledore closed and locked the gates.