Minerva McGonnagall was used to all kinds of things: She was used to students blowing things up, she was used to students injure themselves in the strangest of manners, she was used to the other professors of Hogwarts handing out strict punishments, unfair punishments, or the strangest punishments that could exist (Lockhart giving out detentions where students had to answer his fanmail was still a very present memory). What she wasn't used to was seeing the Headmaster sprint from the front gates in a very healthy jog. Finally the boy has started to take some care of himself, she smiled. But then, she bent forward in her window, because she noticed he was carrying a strange ball of clothes. And hair. Why was there long honey-coloured hair on the bundle of clothes? And then, the realization hit her: There was a human being in his arms. But why would Snape be carrying someone to Hogwarts in the middle of the night? Minerva frowned and stood up from her desk. She quickly went into the Entrance Hall to take a better look, and she quickly joined Snape on his way to the Headmaster's Tower.
"What is the meaning of this, Headmaster, who is this woman–"
"Not now, Minerva." He answered curtly. "Fetch Poppy. Now."
The elder witch frowned: "Severus, I don't understand–"
"There's no need for you to understand." He barked at her, and just then, she noticed his hands were shaking. She gave him a slight nod and rushed to the infirmary; after all, she was used to emergency incidents happening at the school all the time, her body moved almost on its own.
There won't be a school year with a bit of peace of quiet for an old witch like me, apparently.
A few short minutes later, she and Poppy walked through the stony gargoyle, and the main office door.
"In the bedroom." Albus directed her quietly, great sadness in his sky-blue eyes.
Poppy and Minerva exchanged puzzled looks and hastily, albeit a bit uncertainly, followed up the stairs into the Headmaster's bedroom.
It turned out Severus hadn't ever used the bedroom: The furniture remained unturned from the time Minerva was last there, after Albus' death, and there were no personal things to be seen on the polished surfaces of the tables and shelves. The current Headmaster was kneeling by the bed, in which lay this strange woman, her skin ashen and her cheeks hollow.
"Severus, what's going on–" Poppy began, clearly very disturbed.
"Who is this?!" Minerva asked sternly and pushed her glasses a wee bit up again.
Poppy clicked her tongue in disapproval: She quickly understood why she was summoned and began to wave her wand frantically to and fro to assess the woman's condition: "Why did you let her get so, so bad, Severus?!"
"Wasn't my doing." He growled angrily. "I– found her like this."
"Am I to understand you are bringing here some– victims– of the practices of you and your lot?" Minerva hissed at him. "I've put up with your nonsense long enough, Snape, but this is a school–"
"Do you have any idea who this is?!" He hissed at the elderly witch so viciously that Poppy shot him another disapproving look as she tended to her new patient: "This is Helena Viola Elsemere."
Minerva gasped in shock: "The– The Elsemere?!"
"Yes." Snape's growl was so low now it was nearly wolf-like. "Lady Elsemere of Alladale. Need I say more, or would you rather have me let her die out there?"
"No– Of course not." Minerva pushed up her glasses. "But why– who–"
"Enough questions." He stopped her immediately. "Poppy?"
The mediwitch gave him a sorrowful look: "She probably won't last the night, Severus."
"What– is that all you can tell me?!" He snapped at her. "Then do something–"
"The damage is too grave, there's no remedy fast enough to tether her to life–"
"Unicorn blood." He blurted. "Can't you give her unicorn blood?"
"You know too well what happens to those who drink unicorn blood." Poppy snapped at him, stepping by the bedside to examine the patient some more.
"Let me through, please, make way…" There was a commotion at one of the paintings on the walls. Severus hadn't paid it any attention, however, a man's agitated voice made him turn around and gawk at the portrait.
"What have you done to my daughter, you treacherous villain?!" A pair of cold blue eyes was digging daggers into his very soul.
"Lord Elsemere…" Snape gasped. He couldn't believe the stately gentleman on the painting was really Helena's father. But the resemblance was unmistakeable. The same eyes, the same straight back, chin high posture. His hair was fair, more on the blond side, he had a meticulously trimmed moustache and was painted in a regal, blue tailored coat with two rows of buttons, two gilded shoulder boards, a red cordon, a sword and a pair of black trousers with white trouser stripes. He looked more like a nineteenth-century general than a wizard who died only a few months ago. He looked very, very strict, like the kind of man you wouldn't dare say no to.
"I'll ask you again, son, and you better think twice about your answer." The pair of blue eyes glared sharply. "What have you done to my daughter?!"
Dumbledore joined Lord Elsemere in the portrait frame: "There's no need to get ahead of yourself, Eogwyn." He patted the wizard's shoulder gently.
"It has been done." Snape's voice was hollow. "What you most feared. It has been done."
"No!" Lord Elsemere gasped and clutched at his chest. "That monster– That monster has–"
"Yes." Dumbledore confirmed gravely to the astonished Poppy and Minerva. "Lord Voldemort has abducted this poor woman from her home in Alladale, forced her into slavery and a marriage Bond, and, last but not least, has raped her multiple times. Is it correct?" Dumbledore turned to Snape who nodded slowly. Minerva gasped and Poppy frowned, performing her diagnostic charms anew.
"A- a true Bond?!" Minerva gasped.
"But everyone knows that the creation of the Bond cannot be forced–" Lord Elsemere exclaimed. Severus frowned at him. Apparently, all the Elsemeres were exceptionally well versed in all magical lore, a fact which they presumed to be true for every other wizard on the planet.
"My request still stands." Snape said to Poppy. "Bring me the one vial of unicorn blood I know you store."
"But the ingestion of unicorn blood results in a cursed life–"
"Poppy, I would like to remind you that the unicorn blood was procured from an already dead unicorn Hagrid found in the forest six years ago–" Said Dumbledore.
"That still doesn't guarantee anything–"
"You are the Potions Master here, why don't you mix a few drops of unicorn blood with dragon's blood to balance out the life saving properties of the unicorn blood with the purifying essence of the dragon blood?" Lord Elsemere demanded sharply, his stare unrelenting, his expression fierce. Severus suddenly felt very foolish: Both Helena and her father had a tendency to shame others for not knowing facts which they considered elementary.
"I'll fetch the vials, as well as other potions." Said the mediwitch and disappeared.
"Am I to understand that this woman is You-Know-Who's wife, and you let her inside the castle walls without a second thought?!" Minerva said.
Without a word, Severus lifted Helena's left hand and showed everyone the ouroboros that coiled around the witch's left ring-finger.
"Ah, I see. He branded her as his own…" Dumbledore mused. Lord Elsemere shot him a disgusted look.
"Minerva, you surely understand the poor woman had no choice in the matter. Would you knowingly deny her the help Hogwarts can offer just for being another victim of the Dark Lord?" Severus said quietly.
"You still haven't explained how he was able to blackmail her into this – or am I to understand that my own daughter willingly became the Dark Lady?" Lord Elsemere spoke so harshly that, strangely enough, Severus felt like hanging his head low in guilt and mumble: 'Yes, sir. No, sir.' – but of course, he didn't do that. It's just a painting, he reminded himself.
"The Dark Lord threatened to kill… me." Severus said after a long pause. Minerva gave him an incredulous look, Lord Elsemere looked even more angry than before, and Dumbledore's eyes gleamed strangely.
"So, you really want me to believe that just because a filthy old traitor like yourself should lose his miserable life, my daughter sacrificed her own safety and well-being?!" Lord Elsemere thundered, and Severus suddenly lost every desire to defend himself. Secretly, away from everyone's sight, he took Helena's barely-warm hand into his own. Hanging his head low, so that his black hair obscured his face from everyone, he muttered: "I don't care what you think."
"Eogwyn." Dumbledore's voice was soothing, he probably put his painted hand on the wizard's shoulder again reassuringly.
"I have brought the two kinds of blood." Breathed Poppy as she bent over to steel herself, handing Minerva the two vials. The other elder witch held the vials in her hand, unsure whether to hand them to Severus or not.
"Minerva." Said Dumbledore. The word was both a plea and a command.
"If she dies," Lord Elsemere's look shot daggers. "Her blood is on your hands."
Carefully, very very carefully, Severus measured a few drops of the unicorn blood, mixing them with equal amount of dragon blood. Then he gently tipped Helena's head backwards and poured the liquid into her mouth, rubbing her neck gently to make her swallow. There was barely a gulp of liquid there, but she still merely choked on it, so unused was her body to having to swallow again. He laid her head gently back on the pillow. Her complexion seemed slightly better already.
"Poppy, stay with her overnight." Snape commanded in low voice. "Minerva, you two, out." The Deputy Headmistress shot him an angry glare, but followed him into the Headmaster's office.
As long as the elder witch was out of earshot, no sooner had Snape finished casting his Muffliato than the angry words he was holding inside flew out of him: "Her blood on my hands, Elsemere? Wasn't it you who came up with the brilliant plan?!"
"On Albus' advice, of course!" Elsemere defended himself, his well-groomed moustache bristling angrily. "But my brilliant plan didn't count with the fact that there would be some whippersnapper like you to weed nonsense into her pretty head, of course–"
"So let me get this straight: You sent her–" Severus growl was so low it was now merely a whisper. "You sent her into the Dark Lord's arms, knowing fully what would happen to her, you sent her there defenceless and alone, and yet, somehow, this is my fault?! How much of a hypocrite can you be, Elsemere, to accuse me of foul play, when you had years, years, to give her off to some snobbish traipsy husband where she could be happy ever after?! No, instead you told her to wait like a good girl until the Dark Lord would pick her up, and to cripple herself forever, nevertheless."
"This is an insult!" Roared Elsemere, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"Severus." Dumbledore's single word sentence was now a warning.
"Tell me why you didn't teach her to fight him instead, Elsemere: Because you are a coward, that's why." Snapped Snape and the painted nobleman disappeared from the pictureframe he had been sharing with Dumbledore.
"You shouldn't have said that, Severus." Dumbledore said bitterly after a while. "Eogwyn was a good man. He really tried to do all he could to–"
"Let me guess why: for the greater good, isn't it, Albus?" Snape growled. "An innocent woman was to suffer only because she would help Potter at the end. She had no value for you, other than that. That's why you convinced Eogwyn to come up with the plan."
"You are mistaken, Severus." Said Dumbledore even more bitterly.
"Doesn't matter now." Snape said in low voice. "All of it doesn't matter if she dies tonight."
"Do I assume correctly it was Draco who found her?" Dumbledore said after a while.
"The idiot said he tried to bring her food, but clearly, he didn't take the precautions to ensure she was really eating, and she was… She was too broken to eat. To live."
"Why didn't he send you word–"
"And how, Dumbledore? How?!" Snape's voice was empty. A tiny voice in his head kept repeating: It's your fault, your fault, your fault. You should've seen it coming. You should have been checking on her. You should've set her free. You should've let him kill you. She did this because of you. She sacrificed her safety for the miserable life of a filthy old traitor like you…
He wandlessly summonned a full bottle of Firewhiskey from the cabinet, determined to drown this voice in liquor, to deny the raw truth that had been gnawing on his insides. Because he knew it was true. Because he had suspected it for a long time: he had feelings for her, a silly crush, but he knew he could never have her and she would hate him should she know.
-oOo-
Dutifully, Poppy had kept her watch over the unconscious girl. When the morning rays broke through the closed curtains, she excused herself tiredly, saying there were still patients in the infirmary she had to tend to. Snape let her go, not getting a wink of sleep himself. Part of him desperately wanted to check on the woman, hold her, kiss her, take care of her. Another half of him, the one that felt ashamed and disgusted with himself, tried to postpone the visit as long as possible: he couldn't bear looking at her. At what she'd done to herself. Because of him.
"Go." Albus said softly. So the Potions Master got up from the Headmaster's chair and walked up into the oval bedroom.
Helena was still pale, still unconscious, but she looked calmer, and more peaceful: It seemed as if she were sleeping. He sat beside her, took her hand into his and a curtain of black hair obscured his face again. He didn't care if Elsemere was still around, and he didn't care if he could see him or not – the only person who mattered to him was her.
He didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? The only thing he knew was that some time later, she stirred. And then moaned softly. He jerked upright from his slumber and watched her face anxiously, hastily withdrawing his hand back. He assumed she might not want him touch her hand right then.
-oOo-
"Where– Where–" My first words were an incoherent mumble.
"You're at Hogwarts." Severus said softly. "Don't worry. Nothing can happen to you here."
"Where's my cloud? I want my cloud back." I whimpered and turned my head slowly to look at him in confusion. He chuckled softly.
"Probably something you were dreaming about. I'll be back with some potions, you have to rest."
My eyes suddenly filled with tears: "Don't– Don't–"
"I won't leave you, I promise." He whispered gently and resisted the urge to put a stray strand of the brown hair gently behind my ear.
"Don't send me back! Don't send me back!" My whimpers became strangled sobs now, and I clutched at the covers, as if they somehow stood a chance at keeping me away from Voldemort forever.
"I won't send you back. Ever." He growled softly, a new wave of anger and nausea hit him just at the thought what would happen if he did. "I don't care if he kills me for this, I won't. Send you. Back." The last words were so low that they resembled wild snarls of an animal. I shuddered slightly.
"Now rest." He added, more gently, and rose to leave.
My thin, pale hand clutched at the hem of his ruffled coat: "Please. Stay."
And of course he would stay.
"Severus, you can't resist him, you must remain Tom's faithful servant–" Dumbledore's hastily uttered plans seemed now like a distant memory, as if they didn't concern him anymore.
"I won't resist him." Said the wizard tiredly and rubbed the root of his nose with exasperation. "I'll delay him as much as I can. Hopefully, Potter will already be done with whichever business you've assigned to him. My only hope at this moment is Granger."
"The Mudblood said they were in the Forest of Dean." Phineas chimed in with his recent news. "And that Weasley traitor has left the group. Don't ask me why because I don't understand."
Severus didn't even have the strength to snarl at the portrait for his use of vocabulary. He just simply nodded and steepled his fingers.
"Any idea how I get the sword to the Forest of Dean, Dumbledore?"
The truth was, whenever Severus tried to carry the sword of Gryffindor beyond the office perimeter, the blasted thing disappeared back behind Dumbledore's portrait.
"We can still work on that." Dumbledore tried to reassure him. "And on how you give it to Harry, that is."
-oOo-
The only purpose of his days now seemed to be Helena. As her health improved, she was able to speak to him for longer and longer, to sit up in the bed, to have a bit of warm chicken soup to eat. As the colour slowly returned to her cheeks, he found himself foolishly, inexplicably happy.
"So this is Hogwarts." I said one day with my mouth full with mashed potatoes. "A bit shabby, actually."
"You're literally in the most luxurious room of the whole castle." He grumbled. I can't believe this woman.
"Kidding." I grinned at him. "I love it. It's beautiful. Will you show me more?"
"Oh, by the way," Severus remembered something. "Bossing people around seems to be a family trait. Your father says hello."
"Oh God, what did he say?" I gasped, somehow unsettled. "I totally forgot he has his painting here in the gallery."
"Of course, such a small detail to forget, that one has a picture of their pops in the gallery filled with the most important wizards of all times, naturally." He snorted loudly and as he watched her burst out in laughter, his heart filled with joy.
"Basically, besides accusing me first of murdering you, then of at least seducing you onto a stray path, he was a real good sport most of the time." He said sarcasstically. My laughter rang in his ears again.
"Hold on, I need to go to the bathroom." I said, and carefully slid my thin legs down to the side of the bed.
"Let me help–" He blurted, and before he could stop himself, he instinctively reached for my arm to help me walk.
Then, different things happened at once: Helena shrieked, and a powerful jolt of raw magic ran through his body like a warning jab of an electric fence. He stopped in midair, his dark eyes wide with confusion, before he could register the look of absolute terror in these light blue eyes. He quickly withdrew his hand away.
"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "I didn't mean to– I didn't know–"
"It's alright." I mumbled, wiping away the tears that involuntarily sprang into my eyes. "Just– Just don't touch me. Anytime soon. Stay away from me."
He backed down a few steps: "Helena, I didn't–"
"I know it's not your fault. It's my fault. I'm broken–"
"It's not your fault, Helena." He said firmly. "Don't you blame yourself for what happened one bit."
"That's the problem." I turned towards him. "I do blame myself. Every second of every minute of every day. If I wasn't who I was, he wouldn't have chosen me. He wouldn't have done this to me."
"You're wrong." Snape said sharply. "He has done this to you because he's who he is. Not you. He has chosen this, not you. Don't blame yourself one bit, Helena."
But I was already on my way towards the bathroom, my hands shaking slightly. I willed them to calm down, but they wouldn't. Oh, how mad I was at myself for being so weak, for driving away the only person who wanted to help me, but I couldn't help it. It wasn't me. Something, buried deep down inside me, had the power over my hand, my brain. Something made me scream and blast him with magic when he touched my arm. And I didn't know what it was.
-oOo-
"Lady Elsemere." This old woman called Minerva was really anxious to meet me. She didn't really know what to do with herself.
"Please, do have a seat." I motioned towards the vanity, myself still seated in the bed, propped up on several pillows.
"You don't have to live here, Lady Elsemere. I'd be more than happy to help you move into a different, more comfortable room for the remainder of your stay." She offered kind-heartedly.
"This room is comfortable enough for me." I answered. "But thank you."
"You do realize–" She hesitated, fidgeting, not knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say. "You do realize that the Headmaster is the only one with unlimited access to this room–"
"Severus was asked to take charge of me." I answered.
"You can't possibly think about staying under his– charge!" Minerva exclaimed, horrified. "I could arrange for someone from the Order to pick you up here, and hide you–"
"I don't wish for people to hide me." I answered coldly and lifted my left hand for her to see. "I'm already branded."
"We can help you–"
"I don't need your help, meddling witch." I snapped at her. "Now, if that's everything you wanted to talk to me about?"
A polite, but firm request to leave. She frowned at me, got up, and silently walked out of the door. I hugged my knees and my eyes rimmed up with tears. I was trapped. I knew I was trapped, but I didn't want anyone to take me away from Severus. He was all I had. I wanted to be near him, with him, yet I feared his touch – and I hated myself for it.
"Helena." A gentle, deep voice from somewhere at the door. "Do you want to help me brew?"
"But I don't know how." I sobbed once, and wiped my eyes with a laced handkerchief. "I'll ruin your potions."
"You won't ruin anything." He said softly, and gave me a kind smile. "And if you do, I'll make you scrub the cauldron afterwards. Rumour has it you are excellently skilled at housework."
I threw my slipper at him, but he'd already closed the door with a rumbling chuckle. "Bastard."
-oOo-
Once I was fully dressed in a light pink gown, I walked into the Headmaster's office for the first time.
"Albus." I gave a slight nod towards the painting. Snape was lounging lazily in his chair, his curious eyes darting between me and the wall.
"Helena. Good to see you restored to your health." The former Headmaster smiled softly and gave a slight bow. "I have someone here who would very much like to see you."
"Helena." My father stepped into the frame, and a genuine smile lit up his stern features.
"Da." I returned the smile. "Glad to see you here."
"I'm so, so very sorry to you, my dearest child." Lord Elsemere's features darkened with genuine sorrow. "Believe me, if I had known how cruel he would be, I would have never–" His voice broke and he hid his face in his hands.
"It's okay, Da." I whispered and placed the tips of my too-big hand gently on the canvas. "I know."
"You must fight, Helena. You must fight, and never surrender–"
"I will, Da." I whispered and followed Snape into a secret passageway, and onto the steep spiral staircase leading to the dungeons.
"This is my old office." Severus extended his hand as we entered a dimly lit dungeon room. "If you were ever… uncomfortable here, you just touch this stone and can walk right back up to the Grand Office from where we just came."
"Thank you." I said softly. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Let's see how it goes. I'm not afraid of you." I gave him a soft smile. His hand twitched, but it seemed that he thought better of it immediately and it stayed by his side where it had been.
"You can watch me first and then I can tell you what to do?" He offered as a cauldron and several vials with ingredients appeared on the desk.
"Sounds great." I grinned and made myself comfortable in his chair which I pulled to face the table. And very soon, I was mesmerised by the fumes of the potion, which I suspected I've always smelled on him, but have never found the connection. And by the smooth and elegant movement of his hands as he chopped and ground, squished and stirred. And soon enough, I found myself asking questions.
"What is that?"
"Flubberworm mucus."
"What is it good for?"
"A Burning Bitterrot Balm."
I paused. "Why not add Belladonna, too?"
"You mean the poison." He was mocking me, making fun of me now.
"In small quantities it has healing properties."
"This potion doesn't need any Belladonna."
"But the crushed leaves would really help with the inflammation."
I watched him fumble in the adjacent storage and from the murmur under his breath, I could make out tidbits of words like "blasted family of show-offs" and "order around".
"Fine. Your turn, Know-It-All." He muttered. "Throw in the chopped bitterroot, then stir ten times to the right."
I did as I asked and with the tip of my tongue stuck out, I stirred carefully, counting.
"Now add a few Belladonna petals." He passed them into my hand. His fingers involuntarily brushed against mine, but I wasn't paying any attention to that, I was too immersed in what I was doing. "And stir ten times to the left."
"It's not in the instructions, you've just made that up." I accused him.
"Potion-making is all about balance." He instructed me. "When you add something out of the ordinary, you need to restore the balance back so that everything is in harmony."
"This sounds almost poetic. Won't it explode into my face?"
"You would deserve it for bossing me around like this." He grumbled good-naturedly.
I wasn't stupid. Many times, when I ventured into the corridors to peep at the magnificent castle, I frequently overheard the students talking in hushed, fearful voices about the feared Potions Master, now the Headmaster. So I believed he wouldn't let just anyone boss him around. A couple of butterflies fluttered in my stomach, but I was resolved not to pay them any attention.