Thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews! They were heart lifting -- especially after such a long time offline. : )

xxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Thirty Six
xxxxxxxxxx

Staring at the door to his dungeon office, Severus could not remember the last time he had felt this much shock, despite the all too many surprises that had come his way lately. Time, and his life as deatheater and spy, had made sure he'd seen pretty much both the best and the worst -- mostly the worst -- the magical world had to offer. The seemingly sudden change in that state of affairs left him reeling, something, he really didn't like . . . to put it mildly.

He snorted, deriding his own mental understatements; thoughts he would have humiliated any student -- including Slytherins -- for making out-loud. At least he'd kept the thoughts just that; thoughts. Shaking his head and rising slowly from behind the heavy wooden desk he sat behind, Severus tried to sort through all he'd just discovered, simply trying to make it make sense.

Draco Malfoy had, apparently, accepted a half-blood into his precious pureblood family . . . or would, as soon as Granger's child was born. Severus never thought he'd live to see that day. In fact, he never thought the world would see that day. Narrowing his eyes, now glaring at the door one Miss Hermione Granger had just left through, he was not certain at all which was more shocking; Draco's actions, or Hermione's.

To all appearances, completely forgetting, perhaps even forgiving, the last 6 years, Hermione was giving her child to Draco Malfoy. It boggled the mind. For someone who held grudges with the best of them, Severus could not understand how she could do it. He knew damn well that Hermione hated the child that grew inside her on one level. He'd also seen that despite her best efforts to the contrary, she also cared very much what happened to that child. She may not want it in her life -- not the Severus blamed her even the tiniest bit for that -- but she did want to personally make sure the child was well cared for. Otherwise she would have simply asked someone -- even if that someone was him -- to handle it, and then left them to their own devices. Instead, she'd been down to his office, at least once a week since she'd asked for his help, for the sole purpose of discovering his progress.

So why Draco? Had the spoiled prat -- he cared about his godson as much as he was capable of caring for anyone, but that didn't mean he held any delusions as to the state of said godson's character -- actually changed this year and he had missed it? How could he miss something that big? Sure, he'd noticed the boy was quieter, less prone to taunting others, and was even getting along with Weasley. Severus shuddered as he recalled one particular scene he'd walked in on. He could have lived forever without seeing the two of them kiss.

He shook his head. To the king of grudgeholders, it made no sense, none what-so-ever. The problem was, he'd asked her how she could forget. Her answer hadn't made any sense either, and beyond that, had inexplicably hurt. He headed for the still open door, mere seconds having passed when her words came at him again.

I had to. For my own sanity, I had to. I don't want to end up--

He huffed out another breath of pure annoyance. What had she meant by that?

You bloody well know, exactly, what she meant by that!

The problem was, he did know. That's what hurt; though, it shouldn't. As a professor, he shouldn't care that she thought him petty, and apparently completely without merit. She didn't want to end up like him. She may as well have said it, for all the difference her withholding the words had done. The words may not have been said, but they'd been heard nonetheless.

"Quite the spitfire, isn't she?" Albus asked, appearing suddenly in the doorway.

Severus jumped, startled, and bit back the curse that nearly sprang to his tongue.

"Don't do that, Albus!" he snapped, whipping back around and striding toward his desk.

"My apologies," Albus replied easily. "It was not my intention to startle you so."

It never is, Severus thought sarcastically, but didn't bother saying it out loud.

"As for Miss Granger, she is a cheeky, impertinent, insufferable brat!" he snapped, wishing he still truly thought that. It would make everything so much easier.

Albus chuckled. "Perhaps," he admitted freely, then, eyes dancing, he continued. "She quite reminds me of someone else of my acquaintance, someone who went to school here, oh, about 20 years ago."

Why that--! He couldn't possibly! "There's no resemblance, whatsoever!" Severus snapped, shuddering at how much they, indeed, had in common, things no one should have in common.

"Of course not."

Severus glared. "Don't be patronizing, Albus. It doesn't suit you," he snapped.

"I've been watching her, lately," Albus continued, seemingly ignoring Severus' complaint, and apparently changing the subject entirely. Severus knew better than to believe he was that lucky, however.

"Really?" Severus prompted 'obediently'. And that is a new situation, how? he wondered sarcastically, giving up on any harsh words actually sticking to the wily headmaster.

"Yes, Pamona was of the opinion she was beginning to fancy young Malfoy."

"Preposterous!" Severus snapped, bristling, drawn into the conversation despite himself. The thought of Miss Granger with his godson was . . . loathsome! "Mr. Malfoy's resemblance to, and relationship with, the man who brutally raped her, aside, Miss Granger has far too much intelligence to ever evince interest is someone as intrinsically shallow -- changing or not -- as Draco Malfoy!"

"So glad you realize that," Albus replied lightly, his knowing smile widening just the slightest.

Severus' eyes narrowed. He couldn't bloody believe it! He had just figured out the treacherous waters he was navigating less than a month ago, and the bloody headmaster already knew? Suspected? Bloody hell! He paled. Just how bloody obvious had he been? Did anyone else suspect? Had he been making an absolute idiot out of himself for weeks?

"Amazing, isn't it?" the headmaster asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"What?" Severus asked, stumped -- not an unusual occurrence when in conversation with the blasted wizard -- but this time he had absolutely no clue what the curve the headmaster had thrown him meant.

"The power of words, Severus, to hurt . . . to heal."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Words are simply words, Albus," he replied drily, though inside he was calling himself six kinds of hypocrite, considering he had just been mulling over how much a student's words had hurt. 'Simply words', indeed.

"Just so, Severus," Albus replied obscurely, rising. "Good Day," he added cheerfully, and, with a final nod, headed back for the door.

Severus sighed in relief that the strange and confusing interview was over, and that he was not going to be called onto the carpet for his inappropriate, but unvocalized . . . feelings. He would simply have to control better in the future, make sure he wasn't giving off any clues. Merlin forbid that Miss Granger ever figure it out! Even as his horror overtook him at that last unpalatable, potentially humiliating thought, he realized that his sense of relief was premature. Albus had stopped in the open doorway.

"Severus?"

"What?" he snapped impatiently, more than ready for the headmaster to leave him to his peace. Well, perhaps, horrified contemplation might be closer to reality, but just about anything was better than trying to decipher Albus-speak right now.

"Avada Kedavra are just words," Albus said softly, without turning around, "and they have the power to kill." He paused. "Just a thought," he added blithely as he disappeared into the hall.

Severus openly stared at the space where the headmaster had just been standing, a kind of numbness sneaking in on him. Much as he wanted to refuse to admit it, the headmaster's allegory had hit home. It was several minutes later when he shook himself free of his self-induced paralysis. "Now, what the bloody hell was that about?" he demanded angrily.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that Albus Bloody Dumbledore was subtly encouraging him. He frowned deeply, snorting in derision of the ridiculous thought. Right, and next week the man would give 100 points to Slytherin, 'just because'. He shook his head. He had to be misreading the situation entirely. Obviously, Albus' reputation for near omniscience was getting in the way. There was no way the headmaster knew of his emerging feelings. The conversation that had just taken place would have been far different, otherwise. In fact, he was pretty sure there would have been the distinct possibility of his needing to pack if the headmaster even suspected, let alone knew.

It would all pass, he told himself, rising slowly. As soon as the chit left school, he would be left to nurse his wounds and move on. It had happened before -- though not with a student -- and he was reasonably sure he would live long enough for it to happen again. In the meantime, he would simply keep a better guard on his reactions.

And, of course, you won't miss her friendship at all.

A wave of sadness swept over him as he silently acknowledged that, yes, he would miss the growing friendship between him and the-- he snorted softly at himself --insufferable know-it-all. It was, he knew, a small price to pay to avoid the greater hurt, should he cling to any kind of hope that his . . . affection might actually be returned. He shuddered at the thought of trying to maintain a friendship -- something he was not good at in the best of circumstances -- while nursing, or conversely trying to hide, unrequited feelings. It simply didn't bear thinking about.

Shaking himself out of the funk he'd suddenly sunk into, Severus strode for the door. There were children to seek out, and house points to take. That always made him feel better.

xxx

Having deducted house points from three houses, assigned two detentions, and feeling far more at peace with himself, Severus approached the library. He was about to pass Madam Pince's domain without invading, but three, softly spoken, but very familiar voices stopped him cold. It wasn't that long ago, less than a year, in fact, that hearing those three voices together meant trouble -- big trouble -- and it simply wasn't in him to pass by without checking. He still expected hexes to start flying between those three.

He stepped silently into the library, assessing the situation instantly, and what he saw angered him instantly. Young Malfoy was in the middle of casting a spell. Weasley was, oddly enough, looking timidly hopeful, and Potter was looking afraid. He had to look twice at the latter. The only other time he'd seen Potter visibly scared was when he was facing the Dark Lord, or when one of his friends was seriously hurt.

"What is going on here!" he demanded forcefully, not caring that they were in a library. Quiet be damned when it looked as though one of his Slytherins was in cahoots with a Gryffindor against another Gryffindor. All three boys jumped, satisfying Severus immensely. Draco's spell, whatever it had been, looked to have failed with his interruption, which was all to the good, as far as he could see.

Weasley was the first to break under his hardened glare. He started babbling.

"Harry thought he was crazy at first, but it turns out he might not be, and Draco knew some spells to check if it was real. Course, they didn't tell me at first."

Of course, Severus thought drily, blinking at the incomprehensible babble coming from the nervous Gryffindor.

"The first one failed, but you just interrupted the second, so I don't know if it would have worked. I know it looks--"

"Weasley!" he said sharply, wanting to cut off the inane babble. It worked. "Could someone, coherently, tell me what just happened?"

Ron opened his mouth again, but Severus cut him off.

"Not you."

Glaring, but cowed, Weasley slumped, not saying a word.

Potter spoke up.

Oh, joy.

"It's my fault, Professor," he said quietly.

Well, that is a first, Severus thought in shock, a Gryffindor claiming responsibility. "That doesn't tell me what happened," he said sharply.

Potter slowly began explaining, and surprisingly, Severus didn't feel the need to cut him off. In fact, what he was saying was rather fascinating.

"Potter, why did you fail to mention this . . . phenomenon when you came to me regarding your . . . other visions?"

"Because, at first," Potter replied, ducking his head, "I thought I was just imagining it. Wishful thinking, you know?"

He did know, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"I didn't want anyone to think I'd gone stark raving nutters," he admitted quietly. "I figured that if I kept telling myself it wasn't real, I would eventually believe it and it would stop."

"Go on," encouraged sternly. Potter's tendency not to trust adults had to stop somewhere. One of these days it really was going to get him killed -- Dark Lord or no Dark Lord. "Just when did your opinion change?"

Taking a deep breath before speaking, Potter glanced at the other two students before turning his head to look directly at him. "Christmas break."

"Go . On," Severus insisted. "What made you change your mind?"

Potter mumbled something.

"Excuse me, but I thought you said, 'Draco did'."

"He did," Draco said, finally stepping forward.

Before Severus could respond, however, a terrified scream rent the air, freezing all four of them in place.

"HARRY! Help me!"

Breath held, all four Hogwart's residents turned slowly in place, trying to locate the source of the heart wrenching cry.

"Malfoy?"

"Ginny?" Hermione breathed, once again startling everyone physically present. No one had heard her enter the library.

"Help me, please!"

TBC
Kiristeen
Feedback: It's the ink that prints the words. : )
Kiristeen at yahoo dot com