A/N: Wow...50 chapters. Never thought this would be anywhere near this long, and there's still plenty to go!

A lot happening in this chapter, so hopefully you won't be disappointed. Except I can already predict a number of you will be mad at me yet again.

I do have one question, though, if anyone would be willing to give their opinion: How do you feel about the Ginny/Dean sub-story? Originally, I had planned on it being more true to canon, but after writing it, I'm starting to think Dean really got a bit of the shaft (not as much as Severus, but still!). So now I'm torn, especially since it's not super relevant to the overall plot and it could go either way.

Looking forward to your reviews!


Bound to Him

Chapter 50

"Professor Snape?" she mumbled, scrambling to her feet and jogging after him down the staircase. "Why? What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Burrow?"

"I don't have time!" Harry barked, shaking off her hand when she grabbed his shoulder. "Dumbledore needs him, but he didn't answer his Floo, so I'm supposed to check the library!"

"The library's closed, Harry!" she shouted. "Professor Snape isn't there!"

"How do you know?" he snapped.

"Because I was just there!" Hermione stopped abruptly as she realized why Dumbledore sent him to the library. Because I was there and I can find him.

Stubbornly refusing to take her word for it, the boy sprinted down the hall until he reached the locked doors. Kicking them in frustration, he ran his hands through his hair and tried to catch his breath.

"Why didn't he just send a Patronus?" she questioned as she waited for a reply to her mental one. "Or use Fawkes?"

"Because he can't!" he cried angrily, pushing past her. "And the stupid bird just died again!"

'Yes?'

'Dumbledore sent Harry to find you. Where are you?'

'My private storeroom. Why has he sent Potter?'

"The first-floor storeroom!" she yelled, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him down the staircase. 'I don't know. He says he doesn't have time to explain. Something's wrong.'

The boy glanced at her in confusion. "Why would he be there now?"

"B-b-because it's the full moon tonight," she stammered, "he could have been collecting ingredients."

'In the middle of winter? Only an idiot would believe—'

'Just shut up and meet us on the East Stairwell!' she interrupted mentally as Harry gave a hurried nod to her reasoning.

A short moment later, the tall wizard appeared on the landing below them. "Well, well… to what do we owe the pleasure of the Boy Wonder's return –"

"Professor Dumbledore needs you!" Harry blurted out, his momentum causing Hermione to stumble into the railing. "He's been cursed or something, and says you're the only one who can help."

Although Snape's gaze had unconsciously drifted to the witch when she lost her balance, it suddenly snapped back to the boy as he made the last statement. "Where?"

"His office."

Without a further word, the spy spun on his heel and sprinted a short way down the corridor until he stormed into the nearest room with Floo access – McGonagall's empty office. Following closely behind him, the two Gryffindors managed to jump through the green flames just before the connection ended. A grunt escaped Harry's lips as he wound up face first in the dimly lit office with Hermione and her bookbag landing on top of him. When they finally succeeded in untangling themselves and standing up, the witch gasped at the sight of the Headmaster slumped across the seat of his desk chair with his charred-looking right hand draped across his waist.

"Albus?" Snape queried calmly as he swept across the room and around the end of the massive desk. Ignoring the panicked thoughts pouring in through his connection with the girl, he reached for the wrinkled left hand that hung limply over the armrest. As he wrapped two fingers about the wrist to ascertain that there was still a pulse, the Headmaster's eyes snapped open as though he had been roused from a light snooze.

"Severus, my dear boy," Dumbledore smiled oddly, "I'm afraid I've done something rather foolish."

"Have you?" he mocked with a frown as he knelt beside the chair. "I hadn't noticed."

The elder man grinned and patted his cheek. "How sweet of you to say."

Raising one eyebrow in surprise, the dark-haired wizard began waving his wand about in a diagnostic manner.

"Oh, hello again Harry; Miss Granger," Albus mumbled lightly as he peeked over the man's shoulder. "Lovely to see you this evening, but I think I must bid you good night."

The pair of worried students shared a glance and then looked back at him in confusion.

"Sir?" Harry ventured, stepping forward.

"Are they still here, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered loudly. "Or am I beginning to hallucinate?"

Snape sighed at the temporary break in his concentration and, without surrendering his hold on the Headmaster's injured limb, glanced over his shoulder. "Potter, Granger – the Headmaster would prefer it if you returned to your dormitory."

"No," the boy argued forcefully. "I want to stay."

"Harry," Hermione stated, reaching for his arm only to have it snatched out of her grasp.

Glaring, her friend shook his head. "Leave if you want, Hermione, but I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying until I know he's alright."

"Oh, I'm quite alright, Harry," the Headmaster claimed. "Run along now, and off to bed with you! Sleep is a wondrous thing!"

"But –"

"Miss Granger, please!" Severus snapped, cutting off the young wizard's protest. 'There isn't time for this!'

Nodding in response, the witch finally succeeded in seizing her friend's elbow and pulled him towards the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and opened a connection into the Gryffindor Common Room. "Harry, come on."

As soon as the pair disappeared into the flames, the Potions Master silenced his connection with the girl and returned his attention to his employer.

"Good boy," the old wizard smiled before his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.

"The fuck you do," Snape snarled, shaking the man's shoulder. "You don't get to kick off when you've sent the only witnesses away and I'm here alone, you cockhead."

"Five points from Slytherin…for language, Mr. Snape," he mumbled a moment later without opening his eyes. "I think… Horace would appreciate not losing the Cup another year, so don't…let me… catch you…cursing again."

Frowning, the younger professor grabbed hold of his chin and smacked his cheek. "Knock it off, you twerp. Dobby!"

A sharp pop sounded beside him, but before the elf could begin his normal greetings, Severus began barking his orders.

"Listen carefully, because there is no time for you to bollocks this up –"

"Mr. Snape! Did I not just –"

"Oh, shut up!" he hissed, turning back to the quivering house-elf as the Headmaster demanded the retraction of another ten emeralds from the Slytherin hourglass. "I need you to bring me three flasks of Wit-Sharpening Potion, two Strengthening Solutions – the turquoise variety, not the yellow, unless you wish to kill him – two Invigoration Draughts, a Fever-Reducer, and the entire stock of the Angelaureus Elixir. I also need one of the copper goblets from the shelf in Poppy's office, and a canister of the Burning Bitterroot Balm. Be quick about it, and be prepared to fetch more if it is required."

Understanding the need for urgency, Dobby disappeared without any of his usual gestures or assurances. As he waited, Severus glanced up at the bedraggled, whining phoenix and sighed. "You picked a particularly fine time to molt, didn't you?"

"Don't taunt… the bird…Severus," Albus mumbled softly. "He may… just…end up…"

As the wizard's words trailed off into an unintelligible slur, the elf reappeared with his arms full of the requested items. "Dobby was not wasting time with a basket, Master Snape, sir."

Snape grunted in response and hurriedly began uncorking all of the flasks of the golden-hued Angelaureus Elixir and pouring their contents into the copper goblet. Wincing at the limited amount of the potion, he snatched up one of the grey Invigoration Draughts and reached up to pry open the elder's mouth.

"He isn't being dead, is he?"

The wizard flicked his gaze to the side long enough to see Dobby watching curiously, bending over with his hands on his knobby knees like a small child. As he magically coaxed the brew down Albus's throat, the professor shook his head. "You would know it if he were. The castle would immediately go into mourning."

"Not quite yet time for that," Dumbledore coughed, his eyes fluttering open momentarily as the potion began to have an effect.

So as not to risk any of the Angelaureus being spilled, the Potions Master knew that the man needed to be more aware of his surroundings. As gracefully as possible, he convinced the semi-delusional man to consume an assortment of the more standard brews. When it appeared the Headmaster had regained a measure of lucidity, he helped raise the goblet to the wizard's lips and gently began pouring it into his mouth. After half of it had been imbibed, he set down the cup and began mumbling restriction incantations as he swept his wand through intricate patterns.

"Thank you, Severus," Albus muttered weakly.

The younger wizard sighed as he set down his wand and lifted the goblet once more. "Not yet. You're still on your way out."

The Headmaster gave one chuckle, assisting in his second dosing by leaning forward to meet the rim of the chalice. When he had ingested the remainder of the sweet elixir, he sank back against his chair and took a slow breath. "We're all on our way out, aren't we? It's simply a matter of how efficiently we find the exit."

"How philosophical of you," Severus mumbled before beginning another round of charms and chants to repair as much of the curse damage as was possible.

"Well, I've always wanted my last words to leave the audience stunned," he replied pleasantly, closing his eyes and wincing every so often at the sensations of healing.

A few minutes later, the spy exhaled lengthily and sank back onto his haunches. He rubbed his forehead in exhaustion before reaching for the container of salve. As he applied it to the three blackened fingers he had not been able to repair, he lifted his eyes to scrutinize the man's countenance. "How are you feeling now? Have you at least returned to the present decade?"

An odd expression flickered across Dumbledore's face as he opened his eyes and met the other man's gaze. "My apologies for travelling through time. But I do believe I may live a bit longer now, if you agree."

Snape snorted wearily and nodded his head.

"Though, I think 'how long' is a question you may be more qualified to answer."

The dark-haired man paused as he wiped his hands on his robes and then let out a sigh. He shrugged his shoulders lightly and glanced up at him. "Maybe a year? It was an extraordinarily powerful dark magic you've encountered. It's a wonder you're still alive, and to contain its effects is the most I can hope to do. I have restricted the curse to your right hand for the time being, but –"

"It will spread," Dumbledore nodded in acceptance, "and kill me."

"In a most painful and humiliating manner," the professor growled, pushing to his feet and stalking the length of his desk. "If I had been here sooner, there might have been more I could do."

"It was fortunate, then, that Miss Granger was capable of locating you –"

"A house-elf would have been faster!" he snarled as he slapped his hand against the desk, causing Dobby to squeak and dart beneath one of the armchairs. "Instead of sending Potter scurrying down six flights of stairs! He should have been capable of sending a Patronus even if you weren't – he's been showing it off for years!"

"I understand that you're upset, Severus," the Headmaster stated calmly, "and I am sorry for that. I recognize that I was not thinking clearly –"

"Oh, that is more than evident!" Snape interrupted bitterly, running his hand through his hair. "Just what the devil were you doing with the brat that you encountered such an affliction?"

Dumbledore sighed as he pulled himself into a more upright position. "Harry and I… have been attempting to…develop an understanding of Riddle's mind by delving into his background. This evening we paid a visit to Little Hangleton and explored the ruins of the Gaunt family home in the hopes of finding something relevant to our studies. It was there that I happened upon a most intriguing ring, which, upon putting on, I discovered carried the curse."

The spy stared at him with a mixed expression of incredulity and repulsion for several seconds before shaking his head. "Why? Why would you have ever put it on? Surely you must have considered it might have been cursed – you were in the Dark Lord's house for fuck's sake! Why would you have even gone near it?"

"I admit that I was a fool," he sighed, ducking his head. "You above all people should understand the ease with which someone might be tempted by dark magic, Severus."

Refusing to be shamed into submission, the Slytherin leaned forward and placed both hands on the desk. "And what if Potter had touched it? He doesn't possess the same abilities that you do. He would have been dead in an instant – just as that curse was designed to accomplish. What were you bloody thinking, pulling the boy out of the Weasleys' protection and dragging him around through the Dark Lord's ancestral grounds? Are you trying to get the boy killed?"

"Severus, be reasonable."

"Reasonable? Reasonable!" he shouted. "I'm not the one risking the fate of the entire Wizarding World on a piece of shiny jewelry!"

"Enough!" Albus roared, standing up from his chair and grabbing hold of his desk to keep himself steady. His voice dropped several levels, faltering slightly. "That is enough."

Hands shaking with unresolved anger, Snape bit back on the urge to continue yelling. "And what of the ring? Is it still out there, waiting to lure other feeble-minded –"

"It has been destroyed," the Headmaster interrupted. "I am deeply grateful to you for your delaying my demise, Severus, but I think I have had my fill of conversation tonight. Before I bid you good night as well, however, I must ask that you keep this to yourself. For his own sake, Harry cannot know that I am anything but slightly disfigured, and I will do everything that I can in the limited time I have left. Now, I think it is time for us both to get some rest."

"Dobby," the professor hissed.

"Yes, Master Snape, sir?" the elf squeaked brightly as he stepped forward from behind the chair.

"See to it that he makes it to his bed without falling down the stairs and breaking his neck."

As the large-eyed creature boisterously agreed to the task, Dumbledore donned a small smile. "Good night, Severus."

With a forced dip of his head, the man spun on his heel and stalked over to the fireplace, quickly disappearing into the flames.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

"Let go of me!" Harry snapped, yanking out of her grasp as soon as they spun out into the Gryffindor Common Room. He glared at the fireplace, knowing that the Floo only functioned as an entrance when a staff member was not present, and then rounded on his friend. "Why did you do that? Because Snape told you? Afraid he'd put you in detention again? Take away your precious points?"

Hermione took a step back as she stared at his snarling face in shock. "No… because Dumbledore asked us to leave –"

"But he needed help!" he shouted.

"Which is why he sent you to get Professor Snape," she stated slowly, eying his behavior with caution. "He's going to do everything he can to help Dumbledore."

"Sure he will," the boy growled. "And Voldemort's going to send flowers to the fucking funeral."

"Harry –" she started as he shoved past her toward the staircase into the boys' dormitory. Letting her bookbag fall to the ground, she trailed after him. "Harry, wait! Please talk to me. Please, this isn't like you!"

As though he did not hear her protests, the boy continued mounting the staircase and then threw open the door to the room housing the sixth years. He punched one of the posts of his bed before sinking onto his mattress. His expression of anger then gradually faded into one of pale sadness, and he curled up into a ball.

"Harry?" Hermione attempted, slowly approaching the bed. "Are you alright?"

When he did not answer and simply continued staring at the wall, she frowned and paused at the side of his bed.

"Harry, please talk to me," she whispered.

"There's nothing to talk about."

The witch narrowed her brow and perched on the edge of the mattress. "What about what happened?"

The boy inched away from her and tightened his arms around his waist. "I can't talk about that."

"But –"

"I agreed not to ask you about your secrets," he muttered. "The decent thing you could do is to do the same."

Blowing out an irritated breath, the witch slouched slightly and glanced about the room. When her gaze was drawn by the blur of movement coming from his nightstand, she bit her lip hesitantly and reached for the framed photograph of his parents dancing in front of a stone fountain. The James Potter that appeared in the picture seemed so different than the image that had developed in her head after discovering how he had treated Severus during their schooling. The smiling man did not seem capable of such cruelty, but, then again, she had seen firsthand two very different sides to both Sirius Black and Severus Snape.

And Harry, too, for that matter. Hermione glanced concernedly at the rigidly silent boy lying beside her before returning her attention to the photograph and its other occupant. There was no denying that Lily Potter – or was she still Evans here? – was beautiful as she laughed and smiled at the camera. Her green eyes were even more striking than Harry's as they were not hidden behind eyeglasses or unruly, dark hair. Instead, they were highlighted by her hair – so deep a shade of red that it could almost be considered auburn – which hung past her shoulders and twirled about her face when the pair spun.

With a deep sigh, the girl fingered the end of her own frizzy hair. The only time she had managed to tame it into something remotely elegant had been for the Yule Ball two years prior, and she knew it would probably take an entire vat of Sleekeazy's to attempt the naturally smooth waves that Lily had worn in other pictures. The sleek, straight locks the redhead had adopted in this particular image were entirely out of the question, and the only way Hermione's hair would glide through the air like that would be in the midst of gale force winds.

Abandoning all hope on the hair front, she shifted her inspection to the deceased witch's other physical attributes. Lily appeared to be tall, though it was hard to tell from the single photograph with only James Potter for reference. Though Harry is relatively shorter than the rest of the boys, so perhaps it isn't too out of line to suppose that his parents were not any taller? Maybe she wasn't any taller than I am…

Not quite believing the thought, Hermione noted that while the other woman was nearly as slender as herself, she was noticeably shapelier and had more feminine features. And though they were both of a similarly pale complexion, Lily did not appear to be afflicted with an annoying smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, nor did she have intensely dark eyebrows that only served to accentuate an angular jawline and cheek bones.

After setting the framed photograph back where it sat on the bedside table, the girl glumly stared down at her hands. It was no wonder that Severus had cared for her so strongly. In addition to her beauty, both Remus and Sirius had claimed that Lily had been kind, intelligent, and talented.

And if she had been his only true friend to top it all off… She closed her eyes in a grimace as she recalled the happy look that had been on Snape's face when he spoke of their friendship. It's not fair. What could I possibly have done to deserve –

"Hermione."

The witch startled slightly as she snapped out of her thoughts and then glanced at her friend. "What?"

"Why are you still here?"

She wrapped her arms about her torso, unnerved by the coldness of his tone. "I was just –"

"Go away."

"But –"

"GET OUT!" the boy screamed, pushing onto his elbows so that he could face her.

Eyes widened, Hermione jerked to her feet and stared at his dark expression in fear. And then in the blink of an eye, it disappeared once again into sorrowed exhaustion, and Harry slumped back against the mattress.

"Please, just go away," he muttered.

Nodding hesitantly, she made her way to the door, glancing back at him uncertainly before exiting the room. As she descended the staircase, she blew out a panicked breath and placed her hands against her forehead. She had seen Harry get angry before, and he had seemed to momentarily lose control of himself a few times, but it had never been like that. She had never been frightened by him, but the look that had been in his eyes had caused her stomach to twist and her hair to stand on end.

It's almost as if he were… possessed. The witch shuddered as she stepped into the empty Common Room and ran her hands along her arms. She was just about to send Severus a mental patronus to ask if it was even remotely plausible when she remembered why everything had blown up in the first place. Dumbledore was injured, possibly even dying, and Snape was busy trying to save him. If she were to interrupt him, and he became distracted, he really could kill the Headmaster and ruin everything.

Resolving herself not to contact him and risk that actually happening, she sank onto one of the sofas and pulled her knees up against her chest. Shame flooded her system as she realized that while all of this was happening, she was pettily comparing herself to a dead woman. It had been something, though, that had been weighing on her mind during the past few days, and when she had seen the picture, it had all come back to her.

When she had been in the Owlery, sending off a reply to Ginny, she had started thinking about how Dean acted around her friend. He had been a bit dense at times, undoubtedly, but whenever he had understood Ginny's suggestive hints – or had them spelled out for him – he had practically tripped over himself while dragging her off to someplace private. And Ron never seemed to need to be asked – or to have privacy, for that matter – for Lavender barely had to touch him for him to be all over her.

With Snape, however, it had been like pulling teeth. Twice now Hermione had had to coax him into intimacy, and even then it had seemed like he was humoring her. She understood that he had issues with seeing her as a student – it was not exactly easy forgetting that he was her professor – but she had thought they had worked through some of that. She had done everything she could think of to dissuade appearing as a student when in private – minus her one slip-up earlier that week – and yet he was still so resistant to the idea of being with her. It was not as though she were expecting him to behave like a randy teenaged boy around her, but it would be nice to know that he bore some attraction for her. Though after having actually examined Lily's appearance, the girl found herself a bit less hopeful in that regard.

Blowing out a deep breath, she shook her head and ran her hands over her face. Honestly, Hermione – this isn't the time for self-pity. There are more important things to be concerned about!

As the witch stood from her seat, she smoothed her hands down the front of her jeans and then sent her bag up to her room with a quick swish of her wand. Taking in a steadying breath, she moved once again to the stairs into the boys' dormitory and made her way up to check on Harry. When she noted with relief that the boy had fallen asleep and looked much more like his normal self, she slowly descended back to the Common Room and stared at the fire for several minutes.

It was incredibly late, but Hermione knew she would never be able to sleep until she had a better idea of what was happening. With a soft sigh, she continued on to the exit, deciding she would be less anxious while waiting elsewhere.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

The Floo connection had barely closed before the first silent hex left the tip of Snape's wand. As his sofa exploded into pieces, he kicked the end table, sending a pile of half-graded essays scattering across the floor. With a growl, he grabbed hold of the nearest glass object – a lamp that sat atop a small shelf – and hurled it into the fireplace. A glass tumbler soon joined it, followed quickly by the bottle of firewhiskey.

Realizing belatedly that he had just destroyed his entire personal supply of booze, Severus let out a heated sigh and sagged against the mantel, holding his forehead in his hands. He took in several deep breaths in order to reign in his temper until he recognized the sound of his portrait door opening. Spinning around with his wand extended, he faltered slightly at seeing Hermione jump in response.

As the door closed behind her, the witch's eyes quickly raked over the damage to his quarters. Her face was pale and her expression hesitant when she finally met his gaze.

"Hermione," he started, lowering his wand and straightening into a less defensive stance.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here," she murmured, glancing once more at the pile of rubble where the leather sofa had been, "but I don't really know where I should be."

"With Potter, perhaps?"

The girl sighed and folded her arms to her chest. "He, erm… asked to be left alone. Besides, he's sleeping now."

"As should you be," he replied gruffly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hermione frowned, wisely opting not to return the sentiment. Instead, she watched silently for several seconds, piecing together the obvious signs of his anger into the only logical conclusion she could come to. Swallowing heavily, she dropped her voice to practically a whisper. "He's dying, isn't he? Dumbledore is dying."

Without warning, Severus punched the end of the mantelpiece before returning to his earlier position.

Taking that as a confirmation of her fears, she wiped at the corners of her eyes and pulled out her wand. After she silently restored the couch to its former state, she stowed her wand away and cautiously crept towards the wizard. Tentatively, she touched a hand to his back, and when he responded with nothing more than a slight flinch, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades. After a lengthy moment, she turned her head so that her cheek rested against his spine and then slipped her arms around his torso.

Eventually the man withdrew from her grasp and stepped away from the fireplace. Scowling at the sight of his repaired sofa, he crossed his arms. "I was going to fix it myself."

"Oh," she shrugged, uncertain as to what else should be said. Noticing the papers strewn across his floor, she made to take out her wand once more when he gave a gravelly shout.

"No!" With a few flicks of his own wand, he gathered up the essays and banished the pile back to the desk in his office.

The girl stared at him oddly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't going to look at them if that's what you're worried about."

Shaking his head, Snape sank onto the sofa and rubbed his face with his hands. "It was my mess. I don't need you cleaning up after me."

"Okay…" she stated slowly, confusion evident in her tone. Since the boys only complained when she asked them to tidy up, she could not quite fathom as to why he was upset with her for doing it now. It wasn't as if I thought he was incapable of doing it himself. I just thought I could help.

When a tense silence fell upon the room, Hermione slowly descended onto the cushion beside him. Pulling her feet up, she leaned her side against the back of the sofa so that she sat perpendicular to the wizard. After chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, she wrapped her arms around her waist. "Severus… what happened?"

At her question, he grimaced and turned his head to stare at the wall opposite her. A minute ticked by while he grappled with himself, torn between Dumbledore's request for privacy and her earlier request for honesty. Finally, he decided that she had already pieced together the worst of it and might as well hear the rest. "The Headmaster has asked that I not speak of this with anyone, so I must ask the same of you. It is critical that the Dark Lord does not learn of his sudden frailty."

"So he's dying, but no one is to know?" she murmured in disbelief. "But Harry…the Order…they need to be prepared! They can't just –"

The wizard held up a hand, effectively interrupting her protest. "There have always been measures in place within the Order to continue on in the event of Dumbledore's death. An army that cannot reorganize after the loss of its leader is not an effective force. And rest assured the Headmaster will be doing everything he can to prepare Potter in the coming months."

"But how many months are there?" she argued with a scowl on her face. "Harry isn't ready! There's no possible way he will be ready to face Volde—

"Granger, I will not ask you again to not use that name."

"Fine," she snapped, amending her previous statement. "Harry cannot possibly be ready to face the Dark Lord in the matter of a few months. And you know that's when the Dark Lord will be likely to strike – when Dumbledore is gone, and the Order is at its weakest."

Snape pinched his eyes shut and dipped his head. "I have realized this, yes. But he will strike sooner if he suspects that Dumbledore has been significantly weakened, and at this point in time, you and I are the only ones capable of protecting that information."

Her anger deflating at the reality of the situation, the witch sagged slightly and pressed her face against the back of the sofa. "How…how did this happen?"

Letting out a mournful sigh, the man leaned forward and focused his unwavering stare at the fire while he softly recounted the night's events. When he had finished, he glanced over his shoulder to meet her glittering gaze.

"Why?" Hermione hissed. "Why would he take Harry there?"

He shook his head. "As I told you before, there are things the Headmaster does not yet trust in me enough to disclose. I suspect there must be something – some relic or trinket or knowledge – of the Dark Lord's that he seeks to find."

Falling silent, the girl picked at a spot on her jeans for a moment before finally deciding to voice her concerns. "The curse on the ring…could that have affected Harry as well?"

"Had he touched the ring, he would more than likely be presently deceased," he muttered as he eyed her speculatively. "Why?"

"When I took him back to the dormitory, he was just so… angry," she mumbled quietly. "I've never seen him like that before. He looked… the way he glared at me…it was almost evil. I don't know how to explain it, but it scared me."

Severus frowned and sat upright, scratching the side of his temple. "Dark magic taints the soul, and it is has been written for centuries that emotions and thoughts are extensions of one's soul. It is possible that Potter was temporarily affected simply by the proximity to the dark magic of the curse. If so, it would explain why he was incapable of producing a Patronus at the time."

"But he'll be alright?" she asked, re-folding her arms. "It won't continue affecting him?"

He shook his head and stood from the couch. "Removing him from the presence of the magic should have caused the effect to gradually diminish, and a night's worth of sleep should be enough to return him to his standard level of teenage angst."

"Should?" she repeated, an anxious look on her face. "So there's a possibility that something else happened? Is there some way to check?"

Snape let out a shuddering sigh and stared at the ceiling. As he muttered curses under his breath, he strode over to the fireplace and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder before spinning into the Gryffindor Common Room. Silently disillusioning himself, the wizard quickly made his way into the boys' dormitory and nudged open the door to the sixth years' room. A smug look appeared on his face upon seeing the Boy Wonder sleeping in a rather unattractive position.

Creeping into the room, he began casting the same curse-detecting charms he had used on the Headmaster earlier that night. When each of them returned the same negative results, he turned to leave, but paused when he heard a soft whimper. He waited for a handful of seconds until it occurred again and then spun back to face the boy.

Stepping up to the side of his bed, he quickly recast the spells in case he had missed anything, and when they were again negative, he frowned. The boy was paler than usual, with dark circles evident beneath his lashes. Perspiration was beading up along his forehead, and when his eyelids fluttered open briefly, Severus could see that there were tears forming.

The physical appearance, obvious affliction of nightmares, Hermione's description of his emotional behavior –it all pointed to the influence of dark magic, yet he could find no evidence of the curse affecting him. Momentarily considering the possibility that Potter was somehow witnessing the Dark Lord's mind again, the Slytherin reached one invisible hand out toward the boy's forehead and brushed aside enough hair to reveal the infamous scar.

"No."

The wizard froze as the syllable escaped the boy's mouth. When it was obvious that he was still asleep, the spy yanked his hand back and crossed his arms to his chest. The scar appeared no different than usual, but then again, he did not know if it ever changed when he was in close contact with the Dark Lord. Potter had always complained about it itching, but it was unclear as to whether the signs of inflammation he had spotted previously were a result of the connection itself or due to the boy constantly rubbing at it.

But then again, Snape contemplated, if the effect was merely a result of proximity to dark magic, it wouldn't necessarily register as the curse, would it?

With that thought in mind, he leaned against the nightstand, searching his memory for a spell that would reveal any slight traces of dark magic without alerting the boy to its use. When he decided on one that was likely to have minimal effects, he whispered the incantation under his breath and watched as a faint distortion of the moonlight occurred immediately above the lightning-shaped scar.

Well, that's entirely to be expected, he sighed, cancelling the spell when the young wizard suddenly moaned and grabbed at his head in his sleep. Content that there was nothing sinister – outside of the ordinary, or course – plaguing the Gryffindor, Severus pushed away from the bedside table, instinctively reaching behind him when he heard something wobble. Glancing behind him, he grimaced at the realization that he was holding onto a picture of Lily dancing with James Potter.

Guilt twisted his stomach as he watched the pair twirl about in the autumn leaves. Though he had never seen the photograph before, he surmised it must have been taken sometime during the month of their wedding. Lily was wearing her mother's jacket, which she had not done prior to Mrs. Evans's death the previous spring. He remembered seeing her in it for the first time at the cemetery as she stood with her family, either oblivious to or ignoring his presence at the very back of the crowd. Potter, of course, had spotted him almost immediately, and spent a majority of the time pointedly glaring in his direction and arrogantly slipping his arm about his fiancée's waist. Had it not been for the fact that the toerag had been on display to everyone who had cared about Mrs. Evans, Snape had no doubt the man would have worn a smirk worthy of any Malfoy.

Gritting his teeth, he noted that James appeared just as pompous as ever in the photograph – even with what looks like a dead ferret on his face. His disgust lessened, however, upon looking back at Lily. Though he hated to admit it, he could see that she had been genuinely happy then.

Until he had tried to prove himself to the Dark Lord, at least.

With a scowl, he set the frame back down and took in a low breath. He was just about to leave when the boy sobbed audibly in his sleep as he tossed over.

"Stop… Mum! ... No, please…"

As the rest of the words jumbled together into an unintelligible mumbling, Severus ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Raising his wand once more, he whispered the Requietem pacis spell and waited until the blue wave engulfed Harry in tranquil slumber before he quickly stole from the room.

A moment later, he removed the Disillusionment charm as he stepped through the Floo into his own sitting room. As he brushed off his sleeve, he caught sight of Hermione staring at him expectantly from the sofa. Clearing his throat, he straightened to his full height. "There are no overt signs of any external influence, and he should rest peacefully for the remainder of the night."

The girl gave a relieved sigh and nodded. She wiped at her face and then dropped her feet back to the floor. "Severus? I know that I probably shouldn't, but can I stay here tonight? Remus isn't likely to leave his rooms tomorrow, but I promise I will leave first thing in the morning."

Snape swallowed slowly and then gave a nod. He was not quite prepared to admit it, but he had had neither the desire nor the intention of sending her back to her dormitory. He also held no protest when she rose from the sofa and followed him into his bedroom. And when he merely removed his teaching robes and boots before collapsing onto the mattress, she kicked off her shoes and crawled under the covers beside him.

"Severus?" she whispered after several minutes of silence. When she received a grunt in response, she turned onto her side and watched the profile of his face in the moonlight. "What's going to happen?"

Continuing to stare up at the ceiling, he sighed and shook his head lightly. "Albus will make the most of the time he has left, I am certain. If he maintains his sensibility, he will appoint Minerva as his successor as Head of the Order as well as Headmistress. She will continue running things – undoubtedly with better consistency than he is currently – and everyone will do what we can to ensure that Harry is prepared to defeat the Dark Lord."

That he used the boy's first name did not escape her, and she took it as another measure of the severity of their situation. Blinking back tears, she slid a few inches closer to him and curled up against his arm. After a while, she slipped her hand into his and closed her eyes.

Before she finally lost her battle with unconsciousness, she was vaguely aware of fingers closing around her hand.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

If there was one thing Minerva McGonagall was not, it was a fool. And she utterly detested being treated as such. Tossing a disapproving look in the direction of her employer, she stabbed her supper with more force than was necessary.

It had not escaped her notice that Harry Potter had returned to the castle two and a half days ahead of schedule, or that Albus appeared as though he had sat for some time with his hand in the fire. Severus looked as though he had not slept a wink the night before, and Hermione was exceptionally quiet as she currently poked at her food from across the table. And for some inexplicable reason, the Slytherin hourglass had lost a noticeable amount of emeralds though none of the students of that House were currently in residence.

Yet, when she had attempted to question him on what had occurred the night before, the Headmaster had simply smiled and told her that, though there had been a slight hiccough, it had been resolved so there was nothing over which she should be concerned.

As if, she snorted disdainfully and glared at her fork.

"Minerva," Snape warned softly.

Glancing at the man seated beside her, she raised her eyebrow in silent question.

"Let it be," he murmured, reaching for his water goblet.

The witch frowned and huffed quietly. "I find it hard to let it do anything if I don't know what it is."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly as he set down his glass. "It is not yet the time for you to know."

"And you would be the authority on that why exactly?" she hissed, snapping her gaze to his face.

"Authority?" he sneered while adjusting the napkin on his lap. "Hardly. Merely an unfortunate pawn on the master's board."

Blowing out a long breath, McGonagall rubbed her forehead. "You're much more valuable than a pawn, Severus."

"Perhaps to you."

She shook her head in exasperation and then fixed him with a steady gaze. "You would inform me if you thought I should be aware of something, wouldn't you?"

He cleared his throat and looked away for a short moment before nodding.

"Is that a promise I can hold you to?" she pressed.

Tossing his napkin onto the table, Snape rose from his chair. "If I believe your assistance is warranted, you will know. Until then, however, let it be. There isn't currently anything you can do to improve the situation."

"That isn't exactly preferable, but if it is my only option…" She sighed and then inclined back in her seat. "Get some sleep, Severus. I suspect tomorrow will be a rather trying day for you."

His eyes locked onto hers in sudden suspicion. "And why would that be, pray tell?"

The Gryffindor Head smirked as she tilted her head. "Did you by chance forget the start-of-term staff meeting?"

"Ugh, fuck me," he snarled, storming away from the table.

When he threw open the doors to the Great Hall and disappeared from sight, the witch chuckled under her breath. She had an inkling that the entire staff would rather regret having scheduled the meeting on the man's birthday again.

Speaking of which… Minerva looked up and, seeing that Hermione was still despondently picking at her slice of roast, leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor?" the girl replied, startling slightly as she was pulled from her internal musings.

"Would you happen to have a moment free after supper?"

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Severus let out a heated sigh when he heard the sounds of the end table being knocked into and books toppling onto the floor. Tossing the hand towel onto the edge of the sink, he stepped into the doorway between his bedroom and sitting room and glared. "Would you knock that the fuck off?"

The ginger cat paused with his mouth full of colorful feathers and blinked at him. With a twitch of his tail, he dropped the fake bird at the wizard's feet and then pranced over to the armchair to begin cleaning himself.

After frowning at the cat toy for a few seconds, the man moved to the end of the sofa and began setting the small table back to rights. When he noticed that the feline had found something else to bat around the room, he rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have nowhere else to be?"

Crookshanks ignored him as he sent his new toy sailing under the bookshelf and then bounded after it.

Snape watched as the cat shoved his paw underneath the shelf in an attempt to fish it back out. He briefly considered getting it out himself, but immediately shook his head. The half-kneazle had been bothering him the entire morning, and he had no inclination to enable him for the afternoon as well.

Perhaps he'll lose interest and toddle off. He groaned a moment later when the feline managed to free whatever it was he was mangling and went skittering across the room again. The Slytherin had suspected some hours before that Minerva had managed to charge the nuisance with the task of driving him from his rooms, so he had naturally resisted. He had avoided breakfast and lunch in the Great Hall, refused to answer the Floo, and ignored any knocks on the doors to his quarters and office.

Unfortunately, he could not skive off the staff meeting without drawing more unwanted attention than he normally received on his birthday. Shaking his head, the wizard straightened his robes and then made his way to his portrait door. He knew better than to Floo in blindly to the staffroom should Minerva have violated her agreement not to plan a staff surprise party, and by the same token, he knew better than to be the last arrival lest they conspire to sing en masse. If he made it into the room before everyone else, he could glare them individually into silence and remove any temptation.

As he opened his door, he carefully checked the area at the base of his staircase. When he was confident that there was no ambush planned, he quickly climbed the stairs and performed the same cautious scrutiny of the corridor. He continued on in this manner throughout the castle until he paused on the staircase between the third and second floors.

Hermione was leaning against one of the windows, looking out onto the grounds. As if sensing his presence, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"Granger," he stated, narrowing his eyes as he slowly descended a few steps nearer her. "Is there a particular reason you're loitering here?"

The witch blushed lightly as he approached. "Waiting for Harry. He's supposed to meet me in the library to do homework."

"By that, you mean 'have you do his homework for him'."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Not this time."

"See to it that he does his own work henceforth," he sneered, moving away from her. "Though, I shall not hold my breath."

"Probably for the best," she smirked. "You never know when you might have to blow out candles."

Snape came to an abrupt stop and snapped his gaze to her. "What?"

The girl giggled and pulled herself onto the window sill. "Happy Birthday, Severus."

With a grumbled word of gratitude, he hurried down the rest of the stairs until he reached the ground floor. The man slowed his gait as he approached the staff room door, and peered inside before storming into the room.

"Well, don't we appear paranoid today," McGonagall quipped from her seat, earning herself a chuckle from Pomona who had been chatting with the Deputy Headmistress. "Any particular reason?"

He fixed her with a trying look as he chose a seat that allowed him to face either the door or the Floo.

"Merlin, you must be nearly forty by now," Sprout smiled. "You certainly look the part."

"And you, madam, must be nearly extinct by now," he returned, casting a glare at the Floo when Flitwick appeared and holding it until the diminutive wizard took his seat.

Minerva shook her head in amusement as she watched him repeat the process with Remus and Aurora when they stepped through the door. "Have you decided you need a change of vantage now that you're a year older?"

"Don't be absurd," he snarled, crossing his arms. "I am no more than three weeks older than I was during the last meeting – though I do not doubt I will feel as though a decade has passed before he sees fit to release us."

"And no sudden clarity of thought or insight has struck you since last we met?" she teased.

Pomona giggled at the exchange. "It is 'older and wiser,' is it not?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Then the two of you ought to be walking encyclopedias."

"Perhaps we are," the Gryffindor Head laughed, leaning forward over one of the empty chairs between them. "I do happen to recall, for instance, that Septima generally frequents that seat to your right."

His expression darkened, and he immediately pushed out of the spot. Stalking over to her, he yanked out the chair beside her.

"Oh, don't pout, Severus," she chuckled, patting his hand. "We won't sing."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxX

After verifying that the ginger-furred beast had not destroyed anything further, Snape dropped into his armchair and closed his eyes. He had survived the torturous session with the staff and had even deigned to joining the other Heads of House for supper in the Great Hall. Reaching down for his bottle of firewhiskey and finding nothing but a book, he groaned upon remembering that he had set fire to it two nights before.

Resolving himself to make it through the night without sending the house-elf on a booze run, he rubbed a hand over his face. Eventually, he decided he might as well retire early and get as much rest as he could before the next evening's onslaught of students.

He had just risen from his chair when a knock sounded on his door. Sighing, he crossed the room and pulled it open to reveal his former classmate.

"Lupin."

The Gryffindor smiled lightly. "Good evening, Severus. Are you busy?"

He blew out a quick breath and shook his head, unsure if he was just too tired or too self-loathing to lie. Stepping out of the way, he allowed the other man to enter and mentally instructed Hermione to keep busy elsewhere if she had been planning another impromptu visit.

"How was your day?" Remus asked awkwardly as he took a seat upon the sofa.

Snape raised one eyebrow and leaned against the mantel. "I've had worse."

The disheveled wizard grimaced. "I apologize for not remembering that it was your birthday."

"Were you concerned that I had offed myself at not receiving a card from you?"

Lupin gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head. "Not exactly, no. Lately, I've been thinking about the conversation we had before Christmas –"

"And you've come to reminisce about our childhood," he interrupted with a roll of his eyes. "How quaint."

Ignoring the taunt, the seated man scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "I just wanted to tell you again that I truly am sorry for the way we treated you. I know that it probably doesn't mean very much to you now, but I felt like I needed to say it again."

"Well," Severus stated, glancing at the floor. "Now that you've accomplished that, what else did you want?"

"I don't want anything from you, except maybe to ask if we could perhaps start afresh," he replied quietly. When the other wizard did not immediately respond, Remus rubbed his hands together slowly and sighed. "I greatly appreciate everything you've done for me, and for Harry, and for… well, I thought perhaps we could put the past aside and move on."

The Potions Master drummed his fingers against his forearm and stared at his guest in disbelief. "You just expect –"

"Oh, Professor Snape! Marvelous evening, isn't it?" a boisterous voice called as the transparent figure of Nearly-Headless Nick floated through the wall. "A bit chilly for a birthday, I must admit, but lovely all the same."

Severus glared at the interruption. "What is it you need?"

"Well, I hate to be a bother, but I'm afraid Madam Minerva is in need of your assistance," the ghost responded. "It seems that mangy poltergeist was rather enjoying himself in the sixth floor boys' lavatory. The Baron is currently hot on his trail, but our lovely Deputy Headmistress is bit overwhelmed by the damage. She regrets having to bother you on your birthday, of course –"

"Of course."

"—but a majority of the staff have set off for the village for their own bout of last-minute merriment."

"I suddenly regret turning down the invitation," he grumbled, rubbing his forehead. I haven't had enough torment today without having to fix toilets?

"I reckon so!" Nick smiled before tipping his head. "I'll just pop off and let the fair damsel know that you are on your way to aid her."

As the apparition floated through the ceiling, Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. After he tossed it into the grate and stated his destination, he sent a glare over his shoulder. "I trust you'll see yourself out."

When Remus nodded and stood from the sofa, the dark-haired wizard stepped through the fireplace into the abnormally large and currently unused office of a former Defense Professor. He swore under his breath as he stormed down the corridor in the direction of the restroom, dreading the mess he was sure to find. Peeves was nothing but thorough when it came to clogging toilets and overflowing sinks. He was somewhat relieved, though, to note that there was no water running down the hallway. Hopefully, Minerva had caught it in time to prevent any severe flooding.

Barreling through the door, he stopped in his tracks as he could see that the restroom was as pristine as it had ever been. Minus, of course, the dozens of multi-colored candles floating above the row of sinks and the smirking witch leaning against a stone column.

"Tut, tut, Severus," McGonagall smiled. "What happened to your keen ability to detect conspiracy around every corner?"

"Forgive me," he muttered, glancing at the candles. "One does not generally expect to have their birthday party hosted next to the urinals. You, madam, have broken your promise –"

"On the contrary," she argued, stepping forward but keeping her arms behind her back. "I only agreed that I would not throw a surprise party with any of the staff or students present. Nothing restricted me from planning a private celebration. Now, you have thirty-seven candles to blow out before you earn your treat."

The wizard rolled his eyes and let out a huff of air.

"Well, that's not very effective, is it?"

Fixing her with a glare, he withdrew his wand. With a snap of his wrist, a gust of wind pushed across the space, extinguishing all of the candles and rippling her hair simultaneously.

"Cheat," she chided, producing a bottle of scotch in one hand and a sizeable cupcake in the other.

"Nothing restricted me from doing it all at once," he pointed out, reaching for the treat and eying it bemusedly. Plucking the decoration from the top of the chocolate frosting, he held it up between them. "What is this?"

Minerva shrugged as she uncapped the bottle. "It's more valuable than a pawn."

Severus snorted as he glanced down at the black marble chess piece in his hand. "A knight?"

"You move in ways no one else can," she commented, neatly pouring the scotch into two glasses sitting on the edge of a sink.

"You are disgusting," he groaned, perching on one of the stone benches surrounding the center column. When she took a seat next to him and set his drink on the bench, he attempted to hand the knight back to her.

The witch shook her head. "Keep it."

"You're breaking up a set," he reported.

McGonagall took a sip and then sighed casually. "It's from the board my father used to keep in his study. I doubt I'll find the time to sit down to a match any time soon. Besides, I know you'll take good care of it."

Grunting softly, the man wiped the bit of icing off of it and pocketed the piece.

"I would have invited Hermione," she commented a moment later, "but with Mr. Potter so soon returned, I figured it was best to keep her in his line of sight. One never knows when he might glance at that map of his. It may not display staff quarters, but the restrooms are undoubtedly well-documented."

"Indeed," he mumbled, breaking off a piece of his cupcake. "So you were the one who informed her."

"About your birthday?" she clarified. "Of course."

When he had finished chewing, he leaned against the column. "And you said something to that ruddy cat of hers, too, didn't you?"

She smirked into her glass and nodded. "I thought perhaps you would be less suspecting at night if you had spent all day wrapped up in foiling my plans."

"I wouldn't have fallen for it if you had sent anyone else but one of the ghosts," Snape protested.

"Of course not."

He shook his head and slowly chewed another piece of chocolate cake. "And did you send the wolf to grovel at my door?"

"What? Remus?" the woman asked.

"I take it not, then," he murmured, picking up his glass. "Apparently, he wants to use his penchant for digging to bury the proverbial hatchet."

"Well, that's something, isn't it?"

He closed his eyes as he swallowed a sip of alcohol. He then let out a long breath and narrowed his eyes. "I doubt it will last. He's always been easily influenced by others' opinions."

"Oh, I don't know," McGonagall remarked, staring at the wall ahead of them. "He appears to be capable of developing his own thoughts."

The wizard shrugged and began picking at his half-eaten treat once again. "Appearances can be deceiving."

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. She was about to speak when the sound of the door slamming open suddenly reverberated around the room and jolted them both out of their seats.

Severus barely had a half a second to withdraw his wand before a heavy weight plowed into his midsection and the back of his head cracked against the edge of the stone bench.

"YOU GREASY, MOTHERFUCKING SON-OF-A-BITCH!"