Disclaimer: Characters and the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.

1.5 Millimeters of Existence

Chapter Nine: A Stone Wall Is Not the Way Out, Professor

Little sleep, a skipped breakfast, a miniscule dose of pepper-up from a disapproving Madam Pomfrey together with Sangre's know-it-all chatter that was sprinkled with unaccountable weirdness (for instance, weeping silently once in Transfiguration when Potter told all his idiot friends about his new cleansweep) made Severus feel not a little spiteful when his efforts to deface/improve upon the school-owned textbook were frustrated by Sangre who was so violently macerating the beetle eyes that their work station would register a 5 on the Richter scale. He could just make out grumbling under her breath, too, along the lines of "slimy git," not something he was likely to let pass.

Therefore, he snatched the mortar from her, pretended to find fault with her impeccable work, and lied. He told her she would have to start all over with the beetle eyes and showed her a "technique," humbug in actuality that would keep her pounding away for another fifteen minutes. And, although he saw suspicion bloom in her large brown eyes when he demonstrated the "correct way to massage the beetle eyes," she did as he said. Heady indeed, especially when he stood close enough to see her pulse skitter.

He made a show of disposing her powdered beetle eyes, but he could not find it in him to actually throw away the fine powder, so he discreetly pocketed it for his personal stores. He doubted it would be missed by Slughorn.

Meanwhile, Severus stirred the simmering potion widdershins every so often, and as so often did happen in Potions, he reflected. Mainly, he contemplated the Drink of Despair he was brewing with Lucius. He had retrieved an essential ingredient last night, the heart of a wizard driven to death by despair from the millennium-old gravesite of Baron Geoffrey Brocknek, but this ingredient retrieval operations was hardly comparable to the times he foraged in the Forbidden Forest for borage root or blue thistle. Not for the first time, he questioned who Lucius was acting as intermediary for. He felt an uneasy apprehension growing around this riddle, especially after last night. He understood the Drink of Despair required some grisly ingredients, but he didn't expect his sense of logic to be overturned as easily as it had been last night. He was revolted. It was a churning, chilling sensation in the pit of his stomach that the pepper-up potion couldn't mask.

A long glass tube suddenly slid in front of his vision, distorting the rising vapors. The sounds of his classmates chattering and milling around swam back into focus.

With one hand on her hip and a mutinous thrust of her chin, Sangre said, "You bottle while I put everything away."

He plucked the tube from her fingers and dipped the ladle into his copper cauldron. Sangre started to hastily knot the dried myrtle stems to replace in the cupboard. Without removing his gaze from his task, Severus commented, "The stems you selected are even in color and length." Each stem had a tinge of green to indicate it had been recently dried.

Sangre finished bundling them together and then began scooping the rolling beetle eyes into a basin. In a cheery singsongy voice, she said as if quoting a wise saying, "A potion is only as potent as its component parts."

Eyeing the transference from ladle to tube, Severus said, "Spare me a lesson off the muggle cooking station."

Sangre slammed the jar of beetle eyes down. A little too forcefully, she flicked her wand at their workstation, and Severus could have sworn some of the splinters of wood got wiped away with the minor spills and odd beetle eye in the wake of her scourgify.

Gritting her teeth, she said with forced calm, "The hellebore and the myrtle plants have an interesting feature in common. It's not only their strength that diminishes as they age. Rather than having a benevolent effect on the user the aged plant can wreak havoc. Should the quantity imbibed be high enough, it could even result in death."

In his cramped spidery scrawl, Severus wrote their names, date, and time on a bit of parchment and cast a sticking charm to it. As he adhered the label to their potion sample, he drawled, "Potions Mistress's Compendium of Do's and Don'ts by Marilla Ferverre. Given, you're a step above the walking disaster Pettigrew, but not far above. Tell me something new."

He could sense Sangre's glower, but she continued in the same calm tone. "If I found an old myrtle stem in my possession, I wouldn't let it have the chance to cause its harm. I'd separate it from the rest and dispose of it."

"I am not one to let my ingredients spoil." He let the implication that she would sit for a moment. "But, if I came across an old, volatile ingredient, particularly hellebore, I'd do more than simply set it aside."

"And tell me, what would you do?" she asked, waiting with much of the ingredients bundled in her arms.

"Cast incendio."

"And if it was on the cusp of becoming harmful?" she asked, poised to go to the storage room.

He sensed she was yet again alluding to something else that wasn't the ostensible topic of their conversation. First, after Defense Against the Dark Arts, when she started on a discussion about identifying marks on dark arts users, and now, about getting rid of an ingredient before it turned fatally harmful. She obviously had an answer in mind before she approached him with questions and veiled remarks; she was, as he observed before, well-read. He'd be lying to himself if he said she was not intelligent. Therefore, he would dissect this, this mystery of her, since she was so clearly dissecting him. Everyone in Gryffindor seemed to accept her story, that she was a trauma survivor of a random attack against half-bloods, but he had a suspicion there was something more.

Severus answered, "It would be put to use immediately."

"The trick is finding a purpose for it in time," Sangre responded thoughtfully. She went to return the unused ingredients.

Severus shrugged, unconvinced she was not bonkers after all, questioning whether or not he would not be merely digging where nothing but empty riddles and baseless suspicions were to be found. He deposited their potion to the rack in front at the same time as Mulciber stopped at their workstation to address Sangre who had quickly returned to scribble final notes. He put his hand on their table to lean on. "For once," he said, not bothering to keep the volume of his voice confidential, "I am envious of Snape. He found himself a useful little worker."

Without looking up from her notes, Sangre said, "Go bother someone who cares what you think."

To Severus's mild surprise, Mulciber left. Only the memory of his toothy smile remained. Then, he saw Sangre peek up to glare daggers at Mulciber's back. She was obviously more affected than she cared to let on to Mulciber anyway.

Walking from Potions to Transfiguration, Severus trailed not too far behind Sangre in conversation with her fellow Gryffindor Lupin. Severus had been jealously guarding the fruits of much of his research on the potion that would, in short, inspire a burst of courage. He thought of his mum who stayed with his dad through all the times he came home drunk, jobless, and with fists flying. Severus secretly wished, even now past childhood, that his mum could have been in Gryffindor where the brave of heart were said to reside. Then, she would have been brave enough to leave behind their house of suffering. For her, he was inventing this potion. So, sharing his ideas and research, despite how illogical it was, felt all the same like opening his private life up to a hostile stranger.

Outside of class, he divulged almost nothing useful despite Sangre's constant nagging. He mainly nitpicked and criticized her, enough so that Sangre grew tired of his company each time. Today, she had latched onto Lupin after another unsuccessful attempt to pick his mind. The pair were engrossed in a discussion about the increasing violence against the part-human communities, citing a recent attack on a half-giantess reported in the Daily Prophet.

Lupin hitched his satchel further up his shoulder while Sangre paused for a breath before starting the rant anew. "To think, if only she had just disapparated a moment sooner! But who is to say? The terror of it is that whoever was responsible might have been waiting for the perfect moment when her guard was down to attack. It seems she might have been a target the instant she started advertising robes wearable for all body types, goblin and giant."

Lupin sighed heavily. "It's better for certain groups of people to keep a low profile these days."

"But why should they?" she demanded. "For how long must things continue on like this? To be afraid and fettered in because who you are gives leave to the bigots of this world to harass you without fear of consequence or retaliation is utterly and absolutely hateful. It is unjust."

Lupin looked at the floor, carefully choosing his words. "The future would look bleak. That is, if I were on some Ministry list of non-human creatures or just, um, dangerous beings." He gulped and said, "A safe place, a place to belong, it doesn't exist sometimes. Even their family...is not there for them. Staying quiet seems like the only option for survival, you know?"

Severus watched Sangre reach out to place a hand on Lupin's shoulder. Lupin turned his head to make eye contact with her for the first time and smiled bashfully. "But you're right. It isn't fair at all for those groups. You've only been a Gryffindor for a few weeks and already I get the sense you're the bravest of all of us. Where do you get it?"

In a rare moment of levity for Sangre, who seemed either enraged or sad most of the time, she laughed. "How is all this talking brave? I'm simply expressing what anyone with a moral compass would say."

Lupin suddenly tensed. "Oh, um, you know, because er…." He took a deep breath. "That is to say, your… own history?"

Sangre turned to face Lupin. Her profile betrayed a momentary confusion and a deep-seated fear as if the winds of the apocalypse were at her heels.

A few languid paces behind them, Severus sneered at Lupin's awkward hedging. To say what he means for once would likely induce a fainting spell in the werewolf, he thought to himself, lines of displeasure on his face deepening as the memory of the promise Dumbledore forced him to make on threat of expulsion floated up. Severus would keep Lupin's monthly transformations into a werewolf secret, but he would never forgive him. For nearly infecting him with lycanthropy was unintended, but for the diligent way the headmaster protected Lupin with one measly expense—denying Severus justice—was a grudge that festered. Lupin had done him no favors at every run in with his gang, yet Severus kept his mouth shut.

Lupin grimaced, apparently just made aware he had caught himself up in a sticky faux pas. He said, "You know, because your name…um, your parents…or just one parent? Or, um—"

Strangely, Sangre's look of confusion and fear cleared away as realization as Lupin's intended meaning dawned on her, about the rumors going around about her supposed vampiric heritage.

Lupin's eyes squinched up in his acute distress. He rushed out, "But if you don't want me to mention it, that is fine, obviously."

Suddenly, Severus was knocked sideways. Within a split second, he had his hand on his wand instantly. It turned out to be Black.

Black ignored him, walking right up to Sangre and Lupin whose ears were bright red. He looped his right arm around Lupin and the left around Sangre. "Care to share what has got poor Remus blushing and tongue-tied?"

Shrinking Pettigrew and Potter seemed to materialize beside him. Potter stood there with an easy smile as if having never taunted him or ridiculed and humiliated him. He stood there as if their standing side by side without wands at each other's throats were completely ordinary. Nonchalantly, he said, "Sorry, Sniv. Sirius doesn't pay attention to where he's walking sometimes. He'd barge right into Professor McGonagall, too."

"Don't send your lapdog Black to do your dirty work for you, Potter. You're the same cretin you always have been. If I know it, Evans is definitely going to figure it out eventually." Severus kept his hand on his wand in his pocket.

Black turned his head to look at Severus, his arms still draped around Lupin and Sangre. "Huh, I thought she figured that out about you a long time ago—you know, the long-established fact that you're nothing but a sniveling creep. There's nothing like a nasty curse and the nasty people who use them to get off on, eh?"

Severus looked at Black's arm around Sangre. She looked back and forth between them as if ready to jump in if wands came out. Like an angel of providence, he scowled, recalling how she had presumed to rescue him on her first day. Then, a devious idea formed. He said, "Some of us are less inclined towards childish pranks and hallway scuffles. Instead, we crave knowledge and the power it bestows."

Severus closed the distance between himself and Sangre. Potter's petty gang was obviously bristling at his implied insult, but Severus knew that Lily must be somewhere nearby, to approach at any moment. Potter would do anything to keep this show of an uneasy peace for her sake.

Severus kept his gaze on Sangre's, effectively excluding the other Gryffindors. "About our project, Sangre," Severus let himself pause, a calculated reminder to Black that she chose so-called 'Snivellus' over him. "We should discuss how we're going to proceed with the research."

Sangre lifted her face to his and furrowed her eyebrows, thoughtful like a person contemplating a scene in a painting. For a moment, Severus wasn't sure if he had read Sangre correctly, that she would do anything to get more information from him. In that brief interval, he wondered if she would snub him, burrow into Black's overbearing embrace. Severus clenched his fist, about to say something cutting before she could, when Sangre gently lifted Black's arm from around her shoulders. She said to him and the other Gryffindors, "Let's catch up at dinner."

Black didn't mask his look of surprise, but quickly released Sangre.

Severus's eyes gleamed in the rare moment of triumph, walking side by side with Sangre. He hadn't felt this way since Lily had rejected Potter's invitation to Slug Club, publicly announcing she preferred his company over Potter's. That had been a long time ago, though, back in fourth year.

Soon enough, however, he was brought back down to earth when Sangre said, "I can tell you work through the night every so often, last night for instance."

Severus stifled a groan.

Sangre continued, "I am so pleased to see that you have come to your senses and are now ready to share your work."

As if that were his primary intention all along, Severus mumbled agreement.

She then said, "But don't think for a moment I didn't notice the dick swinging. So primitive, but if that's what it takes for you to let me be an actual partner in your project, so be it. When are we to meet in the library?"

Severus didn't stifle his groan again. "I must have had a temporary lapse in judgment."

Sangre stopped and faced him. Firmly, she said, "Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn would demand more of your time than I would if they heard you were uncooperative and intentionally impeding me from participating with your kind and generous guidance in the final research project."

Severus grumpily acceded. They strolled to Transfiguration, arranging times to meet.

After Transfiguration, in which Sangre once again proved she had read a textbook cover to cover, Severus felt the Pepper-Up potion begin to wear off. He returned to his dormitory in need of rest. Mulciber and Avery could usually be found in the common room playing exploding snap or wizard's chess with a few other Slytherins, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Severus stripped off his robes and slipped between the sheets still rumpled from his tumble out of bed that morning. It had been such a long day already, that the instant his head hit the pillow, he slept.

Dark gray roseates of blood blossomed in his vision when he opened his eyes an interminable amount of time later. Fuzzy-headed from sleep, he first took in the chainmail of the apparition, and then the eerie ghostly echoes of clinking chains. Finally, the morose face of the Bloody Baron swam before his eyes. Gravely silent, the luminous Slytherin ghost floated above him. Severus pressed himself up to seated. "I never thought I'd have to say this, but a fetish for dead men has never been a thing of mine."

The Bloody Baron frowned more expressively and pointed to indicate there was someone just beyond the hangings of his four-poster bed. Listening more closely, Severus began to register soft whimpers. He slid his hand underneath the pillow, got his wand, and pointed it where the Bloody Baron was pointing his gnarled finger. Then, he dashed the hangings open.

On the ground, from under his bed, the tread of someone's shoe stuck out. Severus shot out of bed, knelt down, and lifted the bed skirt to find large brown eyes filled with fear and desperation staring out at him.

Shocked, Severus asked, "Sangre? What the bloody hell are you doing there?" When she continued to whimper behind sealed lips, Severus saw she had a full body bind curse put on her. He reached in and pulled the dead weight of her body out so that he had free range of movement to cast the counter curse. He decided it was wiser to refuse any involvement in whatever plot was being cooked up for his partner, especially since it appeared they had attempted to frame him. He looked up to question the Bloody Baron, useless as an interrogation of the reticent ghost might prove to be, but he had already drifted away.

Without further delay, Severus released Sangre from the curse.

She quickly got to her feet and cried, "I need to leave. Somehow, somehow I have to get back. I don't belong here."

He raised his eyebrows at his normally collected partner's hysterical outburst. He hoped that staying calm would get her to stop her ridiculous wailing. "Hold on a minute. I'll walk you out."

He swiped his shirt and school robes from the floor and slipped them on while Sangre paced back and forth muttering to herself. Then, he pointed his wand at Sangre at which point the witch threw herself against the wall in fright.

"Relax. This is for a disillusionment charm," he explained. He quickly cast the spell at the petrified witch so that all would see a wavy mass like an emanation of heat if anyone paid attention, which he wagered they wouldn't.

Sangre insisted again, "I don't belong here. I need to get out. There's no way out. I have to get back."

Annoyed, Severus ran his hand through his hair. "Apparently, I, too, need to repeat myself. I am escorting you out of here now. Just be quiet and do what I say."

Instantly, Sangre stopped muttering and whimpering.

"Good. Stay close to me. The Disillusionment charm should hold as far as the exit."

Severus preferred to keep her presence under wraps. There was an unwritten rule forbidding someone from another House into their common room. The Slytherins might feel their mystique slightly tarnished by an outsider's presence. The professors wouldn't dock points, but his classmates would make their displeasure known, excluding him from conversations, spreading false rumors, and making each day until graduation that much more of a nightmare. Each house thrived on secrecy, but none so much as the Slytherin House.

When Sangre sidled up next to him remaining silent, Severus sensed something was off, but he brushed it off. They proceeded out the door and down the stairs to the common room where a few lower classmen milled around in front of the fire or seated on couches, playing exploding snap to while away the time.

They were almost at the exit in the stone wall when Narcissa Black called out. "Severus! There you are!"

Severus refrained from knocking his hand against the stone wall. He felt Sangre draw to a stop noiselessly behind him. He whispered to Sangre, "Don't dare say a word."

Then, he turned to face Narcissa who approached him smiling but then quickly grew concerned. She said, "Why that thunderous expression, Severus? Isn't everything well?"

Severus schooled his expression. "Forgive me, Narcissa. I've got to attend to some minor, unpleasant tasks before I can go to the Great Hall for dinner."

Narcissa grinned. She said slyly, "I heard that you've been thrown in with that know-it-all half-breed, Sangre."

Severus hmmed, wondering how he could cut this short without offending Lucius's fiancée.

"I also heard that she'll sit in the library from dawn to dusk on a Saturday, no interest in anything but dusty old books and answering the professors' questions. So dreadfully dull."

Severus shrugged vaguely, "Yes, isn't it? which reminds me that I can't be late. Excuse me."

Before he could turn to exit, Narcissa said, her voice tinged very slightly with desperation, "I didn't get my letter this morning from… our mutual friend."

Severus said simply, "I couldn't say why." When Narcissa held his gaze, demanding a better answer, Severus added, "Except to venture that men need sleep."

Narcissa's delicate face retained its icy composure, but he saw her left hand ball into a tight little fist.

"Pass on to our mutual friend next time you see him that he would do well to remember I am of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. I will not be ignored."

Severus inclined his head and left, just in the nick of time. The stones interlocked to form a wall again while Sangre coalesced into sight.

Severus grabbed Sangre by the arm and herded her away from the Slytherin dormitories. Before they could get far, however, Severus heard voices up ahead. He swung himself and Sangre into a nook and waited. Severus breathed heavily and tried to put his finger once again on what was off about Sangre who stood so absolutely still and quiet in his arms. Mulciber and Avery then came into view.

Severus bit back an expletive.

Avery looked cautiously around. He said, "If anyone finds out—"

Mulciber cut him off. "When everyone finds out, we won't be the ones facing down the Wizengamot."

"Who would think that's what the spell did? What could he be doing with such a spell?"

Mulciber cocked his head, pretending to think. "Clone sex?"

"All that crying would put me off, personally."

"What matters is that the instant Snape gets expelled and sent to Azkaban, it is very likely one of us will take his place doing the things that matter, not sitting around taking tests for jobs we are already guaranteed."

Avery's shoulders hunched up to his ears. "I wouldn't have done this at all if…if…"

Mulciber jabbed him with his elbow. "Quiet." He tapped out the password with his wand.

Severus glared at Mulciber's back as he and Avery were swallowed up in stone. He leaned his head against the dungeon wall and banged it quickly once.

So, he was holding Sangre's anxious clone. With her body against his in their hiding place, it was clear to him now that the clone exhibited no normal biological functions. Breathing, for one, or a heartbeat. Obviously, the dimwits had done a miserable job with the Doppelganger spell. He banged his head against the wall again.

Looked down at the frizzy head of hair burrowed in his chest, he commanded, "Speak."

She cried out, "I have to get back. I don't belong here. Get me back. Please, Professor. Get me back."

Severus groaned. He would have to kill her.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I pushed this out as fast as I could once I started writing again. I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is in the works. See my profile for updates. Stay healthy and safe, dear Readers.