Author's note: This story is drawing to a close, I'm afraid. Only three chapters left, four at the most. In advance, I would like to thank all of you who have stuck with me through the years, and have taken the time to leave feedback. Although stressful at times, this has been a fun experience and I know I shall miss it. And now...

Chapter: 42

Runaway Train

The soft click of the lock on her trunk confirmed the end of her time at Hogwarts. Claira had packed away her life in less than thirty minutes, and as she sat on her bed staring about her empty chamber she realized that she had not achieved much. What did she own but a few clothes, a handful of personal products, and the two gifts Severus had given her when their relationship was just a thing of seduction? She could not bring herself to abandon them. Regardless of how she felt towards Severus now, those gifts held fond memories that were precious to her heart.

Suitcase in hand, trunk floating freely behind her, Claira paused at the door and gave the room one last sweep with her eyes. The chamber gave no hint that anyone had either lived in or departed from it. She had left no impression on the space that was given to her.

The school was quiet as she walked alone through the winding corridors and staircases. She had not taken the time to appreciate the subtle beauty of the aged castle, and now her eyes soaked in every detail, her brain grasping desperately to remember it all.

She had not passed a single soul on her way to the entrance hall. It was midday and Hogwarts was in full function as a place of learning. The students and teachers were in their classrooms, the headmaster in his office, and Severus Snape was in his dungeons playing his role as potions professor. Her eyes darted to the dungeon door as she passed by. How many times had she entered through it on her way to see Severus? Not all memories there were pleasant ones, but there were moments of such passion the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen, and may never see again.

Claira's eyes reddened with sadness, but she had no more tears left to cry. She turned away from the door and walked out of the castle.

She hugged her coat tighter around her body as she stepped out onto the grounds. The path leading to Hogsmeade was covered with snow, and the cold, wet journey to the village was the one memory she did not hope to take with her.

When she arrived at the train station she found the gates locked and a sign above the ticket counter that read, "Snow storm. Train delayed. Next departure 10:00 pm."

Claira's shoulders slumped. She had hoped to make a clean, quiet getaway. What was she to do now for six hours? There was no going back to Hogwarts, she decided. No one noticed her leave, and she planned to keep it that way. Dumbledore knew of course, but as for the others she did not have the heart to explain.

She had no other choice but to stay in Hogsmeade. Following the narrow path leading back to the village, Claira wandered past the little shops and peered through their windows. Her luggage prevented her from going inside, so she walked the cobbled roads until her feet became sore. She settled at the Three Broomsticks with a copy of the Daily Prophet she had purchased from a street vendor. The pub was warm and comfortable, and she was able to relax at one of the back tables with her trunk and suitcase tucked underneath.

She then ordered a butterbeer and, after perusing the articles and reading nothing but watered down news written by the Ministry of Magic to calm the public's fear of the Dark Lord's return to power, she turned to the crossword puzzle section. The barmaid lent her a quill and she dove in with little else to occupy her time.

But her thoughts soon strayed to Severus.

How could he have expected her to agree to his offer? To be a kept woman in a nearby cottage, while he spent his evenings with another woman whom he married because of the pureness of her blood? And would there be a child from it? It only proved that he cared more about wealth and power than he did for her. She could never live that way, nor could she stay at the castle. Even after he had gone she would see him in the eyes of his students, walking the corridors, living all around her like a ghost haunting her dreams, and she would love him still.

It had to be now, she told herself. Otherwise, he would tempt her. He knew how to draw her in with his eyes, his voice. He knew how to touch and kiss her, and how to trick her heart into giving in.

She wondered how he would react when he found out she had gone. Would he be angry? Hurt? Besot with grief? She shook her head. Would he even care? She had seen his black eyes gleaming at her earlier from the front cover of Witch Weekly. It appeared his picture had been taken the day he received the Order of Merlin, for he was wearing the same set of dress robes he wore at the party. She could not bring herself to buy the magazine. She did not want to read about how he was now the month's crème del a crème of single witches looking for a wealthy bachelor to leech on.

He now had his pick of women. Why would he chase after a simple muggleborn who was, as he put it, more trouble than she's worth? His words tore at her heart as she tried to force her mind back on the puzzle and away from the pain.

Just then, Claira heard a familiar voice cackling from somewhere nearby. She spotted Teresa sitting at a corner table across from a large, impressive man partially dressed in shadow. He held his finger to his lips to quiet her, and they began to whisper with their heads close together. It did not look like a romantic conversation was being had.

The man suddenly spotted Claira staring at them, and he glared at her. Teresa turned her head just as Claira lifted the Daily Prophet to hide her face. Teresa Silverstone was the last person she wanted to deal with, especially after the nightmare that happened at the party. She closed her eyes and prayed that Teresa hadn't recognized her or the luggage beneath her table.

When she finally worked up enough courage to peek over the paper, Claira discovered Teresa had gone, and so had the strange man. She sighed with relief.

Soon her mug was empty, and the pub had become loud and crowded with people. So she took to roaming the village once again, where she could be alone with her thoughts. It was dark out, and snow was falling. Claira walked to the edge of the village and decided then to wait at the platform, which might provide some shelter.

She handed her ticket to the attendant and sought refuge on a bench beneath a low overhang. She had two more hours before the train arrived, and so she bundled up inside her coat and closed her eyes, and waited for the train to come and take her away. From London she would take a portkey back home to her family in the States.

Severus would then become a distant memory, a thought in the back of her mind…

She did not know how long she had slept, but she had been awoken by the sound of a faint whistle blowing. Gathering her luggage, she stood and stepped onto the platform. She saw smoke rise over the hilltop, and her heart began to beat rapidly. But it felt hollow, as if a piece of it had been left behind at the castle.

The train came into view, and then became blurred by a stream of warm tears. Part of her had been waiting for Severus to come and stop her from leaving. A part of her still wanted a fairy tale ending. She searched the platform and spotted a couple standing further down from her, wrapped in each other's arms, but that was all. No sweeping black robes. No dreamy male voice in her ear pleading for her to stay. No one was coming for her.

CRACK!

Claira spun around and spotted a tall dark figure staring at her from the shadows. Her heart leapt into her throat. Severus, she thought. But then…

CRACK!

Another dark figure stood beside him.

CRACK!

And a third man appeared, shrouded in black robes.

The hanging lamplight lit their masked faces as they approached her. She could hear their heavy, muffled breathing as they towered over her, surrounding her.

"Claira Bell, is it?" one of them asked in a deep, menacing voice.

Claira was frozen with terror. Only her eyes moved as they darted from one gruesome mask to the next. Fierce eyes stared back at her, cold, hungry.

They took her silence as confirmation of her identity. Two of them grabbed each of her arms and pulled her away from the platform. The other took hold of her luggage and followed. Before she could speak, before she could scream, her body was thrust into a violent spinning darkness. She could feel long, sharp fingernails digging into her skin as they apparated her to a place she had only ever seen in nightmares.


Severus sat alone in his study, scratching the tip of his quill across stretches of parchment as he graded essays. His eyes drifted to his hourglass and back again, wondering if there was a chance Claira would come to him with her answer that night. It had been three days since he had made the proposal, but he was confident she would agree once she had thought it through. What woman wouldn't want the world handed to her on a silver platter? So what if they had to live apart? He would lay with her in the evenings and some nights, and until he had to marry they could enjoy each other as often as she liked.

The plan was perfect.

And yet, there was a small part of him that worried she might not agree. What then? He had not thought that far ahead. She had always forgiven him. Perhaps he was taking her for granted? He knew he was taking her for granted, but he had planned to set things right once they were away from Hogwarts.

Beside him, crammed inside his desk drawer, were letters sent by owl from numerous women seeking his attention. Many of them he had met at the party; the others were from women who subscribed to Witch Weekly. He had not responded to any of their inquiries. He planned to burn the letters after he was finished with the essays, along with the copy of Witch Weekly he had purchased for his amusement. Was that not proof of his commitment to Claira? He had decided during their time apart that she was the only woman he wanted, and he was determined to have her back.

He heard the handle turn on his study door.

Straightening his posture, he looked up. Only two people had ever dared to enter his warded chambers without knocking, and they were Albus and Claira. His stare was eager, hopeful, but then faded as the intruder let go of the handle and began to pound on the door.

His gaze lowered back down to his work.

"Enter."

The door then burst opened.

"Now you've done it!" came a shrill voice. "I knew this would happen. I warned her and now - it's all your fault!"

Severus coated the tip of his quill with ink and continued scribbling. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about, Poppy. Either lower your voice and control yourself, or kindly take your leave. As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment."

"Gone!" she squawked, flailing her arms. "Claira is gone!"

Every muscle is Severus's body froze still. "What do you mean, gone?"

He was then struck in the face by a roll of parchment she had thrust at him. He opened it and read what appeared to be a resignation letter. His eyes tore from the parchment to glare at Madam Pomfrey. "What is this nonsense?"

"I told her to stay away from you," she continued, ignoring him. "And now you've run her off. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing. Oh, but I know it was you – "

"Do shut up, woman," he snapped.

Springing from his chair, he stalked past her to the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded. "I told you she was – "

But he had already shut the door behind him. He did not believe – would not believe that Claira had gone. She had no reason to leave Hogwarts. She had no reason to leave him. There had to be some mistake, Severus thought as he left the dungeons and scaled the staircases. Why would she do such a thing? Where would she go?

He turned the handle on her door, but it was locked. What happened to the protective wards he had put up? The ones that only allowed him access? He stood back from the door and raised his wand, and blasted the lock apart.

The room was cold and dark.

"Lumos," he growled.

He did not notice any immediate changes. But his hopes began to fall as he flung open her dresser drawers and found them empty. He then went to her wardrobe. It had been emptied of clothing as well. Her trunk was also missing, he realized, as he gazed about the chamber. His heart began to race. Confusion, anger, and panic quickly overtook him. What was she thinking? He leaned his arm against her wardrobe for support, and rested his forehead on his fist.

He had just received her answer.

His other fist punched the side of the wardrobe, and his knuckles began to throb with pain.

A few minutes later he was standing in front of the headmaster's office, pounding on the door much like Poppy had done to his study. The door swung opened, and Severus charged inside, teeth bared.

"Where has she gone?" he snarled.

Dumbledore gazed up at him from behind his desk. "That, I'm afraid, I cannot say."

Severus slapped his hand down upon the desk, knocking over a small whizzing device. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because," Dumbledore said calmly, "I gave my word that I would not. Please, sit down."

Severus glared at him, and then sat down. But then stood up. "How could you let her leave, Albus? She clearly was not in her right mind."

Severus then began to pace.

Dumbledore folded his hands together, and peered at him from above his half moon spectacles. "It is not in my power to hold anyone here, Severus. If one of my staff wishes to leave, they have the freedom to do so."

He waved his hand and the chair swung out for Severus to sit down once again. Severus kicked it out of the way, causing it to topple over.

"You could have made her see reason," he spat. "You could have talked her out of it."

Albus sighed. "Do you think I did not try?"

Severus shook his head. "Obviously not well enough."

Dumbledore's expression tightened. "Be careful, Severus. I may be willing to listen to your concerns over the girl, but I will not tolerate your rudeness."

He rose from his chair and walked over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"What is this really about?" he asked gently.

Severus placed his hands on the edge of the desk and bowed his head. "I don't understand her, Albus." His voice lowered to an almost whisper. "I offered her everything a woman should want; a home, security, a life of comfort… but she has refused me."

"I see," Albus said softly. "Perhaps then you have overlooked the things she truly wanted. Not all things desirable can be bought."

Severus shook his head. "I had not planned for her, Albus. I was content with my decision to work for the Ministry of Magic. I've worked nearly seventeen years to reach this point of success. And now, I have everything I ever wanted."

"Yes, you have created quite a name for yourself." Albus turned to look at him, his eyes bright and piercing. "You have reached beyond redemption and contributed something truly wonderful to the world. If there was ever a question about your worth, I believe you have proven it. But tell me this; do you feel any more satisfied for it? Can you honestly say that you are happy?"

Severus gave him a dismissive snort. "I don't understand."

His voice was warm and sincere. "I'm asking you, Severus, if you are happy."

They stared at each other in silence, and then Severus slowly shook his head, and closed his eyes. "What am I to do now?"

"I have always found in such circumstances as these, when your way forward is not always clear, it is best then to listen to your heart." He turned back to the window and peered out into the night. "I cannot make your decisions for you, but I can tell you that most of the country had severe bad weather overnight."

Severus cocked his eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Indeed, the transport situation is in chaos. Road and rail services are running with heavy delays, and in some areas are at a complete standstill." He looked down his crooked nose towards the town of Hogsmeade. "Why even the Hogwarts Express was unable to operate today."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Ah yes, there it is now," Dumbledore mused. "It is about to depart from the looks of it. If anyone had wanted to catch it they had better hurry – "

But Severus had already left the headmaster's office in a flurry of robes.

At first his strides were cool and collected, but as he reached the double doors leading onto the grounds of Hogwarts, and heard the train's departure whistle blow, he broke into a full run towards the path leading to Hogsmeade. The moment his feet stepped outside of the boundaries of the castle's protective wards, and without stopping, he withdrew his wand and apparated to the train station.

The gates were locked. Severus could see the train just on the other side, and as it began to roll forward he leapt over the gates, ignoring the shouts from the guard at the ticket booth, and ran onto the platform. The wind whipped through his robes as he made an attempt to grab onto one of the compartment door handles, but the train was moving too fast and he stumbled backwards.

He cursed at the train, but all he could do was watch as it rode out into the night. At least if Claira had seen him through one of the windows, she would have known he had come after her. But no, he did not see her face in any of them as they passed.

He had missed her by mere seconds.

Even as the train had vanished over the hilltop, Severus stood there staring into the darkness after it. The guard approached him with his wand drawn; he was just a slight man, and a head shorter than Severus. And after taking one look at Severus's wild expression, the man turned around and dashed back to his ticket booth.

Severus sat down on one of the benches, and rubbed his face with his cold hands. The night felt surreal. He had never heard such silence. It was stale. Empty. And for the first time in years, he felt alone.

How could she demand so much of him, he thought. Her requests were such that he would have had to give up everything. His inheritance, his work, his entire way of living was impossible to uphold by her standards. Was the love of one woman truly worth all that? A feeling that could end as quickly as it had began? And was he to forfeit all for a thing of uncertainty?

"I have always found in such circumstances as these, when your way forward is not always clear, it is best then to listen to your heart."

Severus closed his eyes and listened. He heard the slight rustle of a newspaper sweeping by in the wind. He heard the wind itself, whistling to the night. And he heard a voice…

It told him to find Claira. No matter what the cost. Despite all sacrifices he must look for her and bring her back to Hogwarts.

He opened his eyes and stood, and walked back to the castle. His future was now as dark and unknown as the sky above him. His thoughts and feelings were so new, so foreign, and he wondered what would come of it all. Was this something close to what love felt like? To care about Claira so deeply that he was willing to turn the world upside down just to make her happy?

One thing was for certain; in order to keep her, he had to first get her back.