37 –The Time Has Come

The Head of Research at John Radcliffe Hospital sullenly sat on the opposite side of the modern white and chrome boardroom table. Three hospital administrators sat to his right, in sturdy chrome chairs, flipping through the stack of papers in front of them. I waited patiently for them to speak. This had not been an easy decision but one that was ready to be made. My time was up.

In the ten years that I had been involved with the hospital, both as a doctoral candidate and then as a granted researcher, I had succeeded on many levels. New doors had been opened in the study of intracellular transmission systems, not only in their connection to cancer but to other disorders and illnesses as well. Several new treatments had been produced and patented for the handling of chemotherapy side effects, and two highly successful and recorded treatments had been created for the management, and to some degree cure, of two forms of lymph node cancer. There would always be research to be done. It was a field and a disease that seemed to keep growing, but I felt that I had achieved my goal, and then some, and it was time to move on. I had presented the hospital with a proposal, that they were now reviewing, that offered my services as consultant should they need it.

The hospital director closed his folder and sat back in the sculpted chair, staring thoughtfully at the documents before him. The others followed suit.

"I must say, I'm sorry to see you go. Your accomplishments here have been significant," he began, looking up. "But, I believe I understand how you feel. The demands on your time must be extraordinary. You do intend to continue research." This was both a statement and a question.

"Yes," I replied quietly. "I've begun several projects but one that requires more immediate attention. I feel I have gone as far as I can with the lymph node research. The team is more than capable of handling it on their own, and you have some excellent new members who have wonderful ideas."

All of those at the table nodded in agreement. They knew I was right.

"It was very generous of you to offer to stay as a consultant," the Head of Research voiced. "Does this mean that you will be remaining in England?"

I smiled sadly. "I will be between England and Italy but can be reached without difficulty at the address attached to the folder."

There was a consensual nod.

"Gentlemen, if all is said and done, I'll take my leave. It was both an honour and a pleasure to work with you. Have a very happy holiday season." I stood and reached my hand in parting to the men as they came around the table to shake my hand and wish me luck.

"Will you still be guest lecturing at Oxford?" the director asked cordially.

My smile broadened. "I think I've become a fixture there. I'm scheduled for two series in the New Year. They're short, but on a subject that I've lectured many times."

The Society's Manor House was bedecked in its usual holiday splendour with evergreen bows and holly berries, silver and gold ribbons and garland. Frosted orbs lit the well-trampled path from the Apparition Garden to the house, and the open doors welcomed guests with carolling house elves.

Pinky had been at the Manor all afternoon helping prepare for the evening, and as I climbed the wide flagstone steps, she greeted me at the top with a wide grin, a cheery sprig of greenery pinned to the front of her apron.

"Mistress is beautiful," she breathed and then leaned closer. "But, Master is not arrived yet," she continued comically out of the corner of her mouth.

"Thank you, Pinky," I whispered with a grin as I entered the foyer and slid the cloak from my shoulders. I had honoured Severus' request and dug the royal blue robe from the recesses of my wardrobe. It had been many years since I had worn it, and it needed to be magically adjusted. Oh, how the body changes as we get older. The sapphire necklace sat perfectly on the line that he had drawn, nestling comfortably between my breasts.

Greeting Chairwizard Castwell and Master Whitherling at the reception room door, I enquired about the Master's wife and new child.

He beamed proudly and nodded. "Fine. The boy is growing like a Skwert in spring. Poor child has a cold so Maris stayed home tonight." Eyeing my attire, he continued, "You look lovely this evening, dear. Are you expecting anyone special?" He shot a smirk to Chairwizard Castwell.

I grinned mischievously, flirtatiously batting my eyes that reflected the blue of the dress. "Maybe."

"I seem to recall last year's…incident…with the mistletoe." The Chairwizard smiled roguishly. "Andrew says that you and Snape have a history, something about during his apprenticeship in Italy?"

"Really? Is that what you heard?" I answered giving Master Whitherling a playful "evil eye". "That was a long time ago."

"And, the dance? You two do move well together," Master Whitherling added with a nudge in my direction.

"Oh, now, the dance was entirely your fault." I shook a finger humorously at my old colleague.

"How so?" His brow creased innocently.

"You set the precedent. You dared him to dance with me one year, and now, he feels that it's an annual event." I threw my hands to the air in mock defeat.

Master Whitherling laughed. "Fine, I'll take the blame. At least, he doesn't bark at you."

"No, he just snarls. You'll save me a dance though, won't you?" I invited.

"Of course," he agreed as I moved into the bright lights of the hall.

The evening passed slowly, but the music and camaraderie was wonderful. I danced with a variety of wizards, including, of course, the one that always seemed to seek me out, but at least the leering had stopped, and he stayed off my feet this year. As he was about to request a second dance, Merlin be praised, a saving voice resounded behind me, and my present partner backed away with a smirk.

"I believe this dance is mine." The baritone purr was like melted chocolate to my ears, and I was hard set not to grin openly at hearing it. It was getting late, and I was beginning to lose hope.

Turning to greet my husband, I curtseyed as the music began and reached my arms to the waltzing stance. His face was set in a softened scowl, eyes narrowed as if dancing with me was a chore, but he moved with the grace of an eagle on the breeze: strong and confident, allowing the currents of the music to flow through his limbs.

"I do like that necklace," he whispered as we moved around the floor, the edges of his lips curving up almost imperceptibly.

"How long can you stay?" I asked as we came together after a turn.

"Not long. Malfoy is having a gathering tonight. My attendance is required."

I lowered my head in an understanding half nod.

As we stopped, his fingers slid down my arms and grasped my hands for a split second. A flicker of puzzlement, then recognition crossed his face. "I never noticed before, you still wear the ring." His eyes shone brightly belying his stony expression.

Severus had given me an onyx and silver ring for Valentine's while I was working on my doctorate. He had promised that, one day, I would wear a ring on the proper finger, but for now, this one never left the little finger of my left hand. I smiled sweetly at my husband before he noticed the watchful eyes of the crowd. Inhaling sharply and bowing curtly, he turned abruptly and strode to the refreshment table. I smiled again and shook my head as I turned toward the cooler entrance hall.

"What? Not waiting for the mistletoe this year? Don't blame you," a Mistress teased as I passed.

I glanced quickly over my shoulder to spy Severus downing a glass of champagne, all but ignoring the aging Master who had decided to impart some ancient wisdom upon him. I could almost feel his teeth grind with impatience as the old man spoke.

We didn't get to dance again, and Severus left before the mistletoe made its appearance. I made a quick exit not long after that and headed for the comfort of my small apartment.

We had communicated briefly through the evening, Severus explaining that he was required to attend the Yule Ball on Christmas day but hinted that I was to keep an eye on the Ministry post. I informed him that Mr. Crouch had not been in the office for most of December. His assistant, Percy Weasley, had taken over in his absence. This information concerned Severus, and we wondered what had happened. Beyond that, there was little else that could be done, except wait and play our roles.

December's chill turned into January's blustery cold. Severus allowed me to shadow him to Malfoy's New Year's party only to proceed to a private "party" of our own at the Cumberland safe house in the wee hours of the early New Year.

The first week back for classes saw me at Oxford prepping the final-year Masters students with a comparative series on the functions of MRI and CAT scans in the study of brain disorders.

For the balance of January and into February, I was back in Italy, touching base with the studies being led there. Both the British and Italian Ministries were being co-operative in sharing results and everything was running smoothly. This had been the happiest and most comfortable I had been in years. I had missed Pineto, and the peaceful sound of the sea against the shore was soothing to my fraying nerves.

Finally, in early March, I received an owl from Albus, the first communication I had had from him since November. An older, brown speckled, barn owl landed heavily on my narrow windowsill of the London flat and pecked politely on the glass. Opening the window, the bird flew in gracefully and skidded to a halt on the kitchen table, dropping his missive beside my breakfast plate before helping himself to a bite of toast.

"Cheeky, aren't you?" I tilted my head at the brazen bird.

He spun his head, in the odd way that owls do, to examine me with age-old eyes.

I recognized the seal on the parchment and broke it as I unfolded the brittle paper.

Something has come up.

Usual place.

One-thirty today.

AD

"Never a dull moment", I thought aloud while thanking the bird and escorting it to the window. I had work today and was on a roll with the new potion that the team was working on. I wondered how was I going to explain having to leave early.

The rain pummelled the overgrown backyard of the safe house, and my shoes were soaked by the time I opened the heavy, back door. Shaking the water from my cloak, I hung it on the hook, kicked off the sodden shoes, and gave them and my feet a quick drying spell before venturing further.

Albus appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a midnight blue robe with grey trim, mirroring his solemn mood. His crooked fingers toyed with his long, silver beard as he stood waiting for me to finish drying off.

"Tea has been prepared," he said gravely as he turned to sidle back to the sitting room, expecting me to follow.

"This must be serious," I began, obeying the silent command. "You usually give me more notice." I padded behind him half expecting my socks to still leave wet imprints on the wooden floor.

"I'm afraid Severus would be angry if he knew, but you need to be aware." He gently lowered himself into one of the large armchairs. "And, you must not divulge this conversation to him. He is focusing on another situation at the moment, and I'd rather he not be distracted." His order was gentle but firm.

A secret from Severus? "What is it?" I quietly demanded.

"Sirius is back. He is staying near Hogsmeade to help keep an eye on Harry." Albus watched my expression closely.

I inhaled deeply, slowly, and steadied my voice. "I agree. Severus must not know. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

"No. I felt you needed to know that he was close and on our side." I nodded as he paused to change the subject. "Has there been any word about Mr. Crouch?"

My brow creased, and I had to ask what had been bothering me. "Why have you asked me to keep an eye on this? It's nowhere near my field, and I know that you have others at the Ministry besides me?"

Albus gave a half nod. "Yes, but it's always good to have many pots on the fire, that way you can compare results."

I nodded in understanding, and continued, "He's still absent, but I've done some investigating. Did you know that since taking his present position, he hasn't taken a sick day? Others have noticed and have taken interest, and the notes that he's been sending to Percy Weasley are now under investigation." Albus' eyebrows rose questioningly. "You didn't hear this from Arthur?"

"I'm afraid young Mr. Weasley has become estranged from his family, choosing work over blood." He shook his head sorrowfully.

"The rumour is that he has finally cracked under the pressures of his job and life. Didn't he used to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement during the first war? Wasn't his son tried as a Death Eater? Crouch is an ambitious man. He must have lost a great deal with that. Maybe everything finally caught up with him?"

"Maybe, but I don't see it. Bartemius Crouch is an exceptionally strong individual. You see, he sentenced his own son to Azkaban." I shook my head at the prospect. "I was at the trial. Difficult thing to see. A man begging for his life only to have his father reject him. The boy died a year later." Albus stared at his entwined fingers regretfully. "No, I believe there is more. I believe that the disappearances of Bertha Jorkins, Bartemius Crouch Senior, and a Muggle named Frank Bryce are somehow connected." He paused for a moment, drifting slightly. "Daniella," he said thoughtfully. "I have a hunch and need your services. I need you to go to a small town in Northern England, Little Hangleton. Feel it out."

"And, what do you expect I'll find? Frank Bryce, whoever he is?"

"Possibly, but I doubt it." He shook his head slowly. "Little Hangleton is Tom Riddle's home. Mr. Bryce was the Riddle's groundskeeper."

"You think Riddle, Voldemort, went home?" I questioned in astonishment. "Of course, I'll go." I was eager to find out where this adversary was. I was tired of being one step behind.

Albus nodded his head with satisfaction. He knew that he could count on me.