Cassie trudged out to Greenhouse Seven, beyond exhaustion. For weeks now, it seemed every time she tried to rest, visions of red eyes and black ooze filled her mind, making her heart race until she got up to find something to occupy her thoughts. Maybe it was for the best. With all the time she'd been spending in the Come-and-Go room with Draco, she'd been slipping behind in her studies, one class at a time.

The greenhouse was pleasantly warm this afternoon without being oppressive. The westward windows were shaded by the dancing leaves of the Venemous Tentacula plants, now grown so large that one had to be constantly on guard for the twitching vines. Cassie hauled her set of Sopophorous seedlings down from a shelf, placed them on a worktable, and went in search of the jar of mooncalf dung. The communal jar was once again mostly empty when she found it. Wonderful. She'd have to use the rest of it on her seedlings, and then tromp out to Greenhouse Six to refill it for the next person.

She set the disgusting jar next to her project and began to unscrew the lid. The smell was so awful that she immediately replaced it. As she flipped through her copy of Practical Herbology, a wave of frustration went through her. The charts in the book all assumed you knew what you were doing already. This was her second try at starting these seedlings, and she had no idea what she'd done wrong the first time. Why did they have to grow these plants anyway? She was never going to become a potions master. When she was out of school and in the real world, she would pay the extra coins to buy the harvested pods if she needed them, rather than go through the drudgery of tending the plants herself.

It struck her that there was a higher than zero chance she was not going to live long enough to graduate from school. She sat down hard on the bench, blinking back tears. She was so busy feeling sorry for herself, that she didn't notice anyone entering the greenhouse, until he was towering over her. Neville Longbottom had grown over the summer, and it suited him. She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve and reached for the dung jar again.

"Cassie, are you okay?" Neville asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "Why do you ask?"

He clearly didn't believe her, and he stared at her for so long she could see him trying to work out the reason for her fib. Gryffindors were so obvious about their thoughts. It was one of the constants of the universe, like fish and chips on Fridays and the rotation of the stars through the sky.

"Wait," he said at last. "Don't open that jar yet."

Neville disappeared into the rows of plants, and Cassie stared after him, perplexed. When he returned, he was carrying a little box.

"What's that?" she asked as he opened it.

"Nose plugs," he replied, handing her a pair of small, bright pink cylinders covered with tiny holes. "If you put them in your nostrils, you won't have to smell the mooncalf dung. It stinks worse than the boys' loo after a Quidditch match."

She took them dubiously, wrinkling her nose as she put them in place. They were uncomfortable, and if Neville's appearance was anything to go by, they looked ridiculous. But when she opened the jar, she was blissfully unaware of the dung's foul stench.

"They really work," she said, giggling at the pinched sound of her voice.

"I told you they would," he replied. "Can I help you change the fertilizer? I noticed in class that you were spreading it on a little thick. Too much and you'll smother the seedlings."

"You were watching me in class?" Cassie asked, unsure what to think of the fact that he'd noticed her at all.

He dropped his eyes from hers to the plants. "I wasn't—that is—it's a mistake a lot of people make. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you."

Cassie had never been sure what to make of Neville. His constant failure in potions class used to annoy her. But she'd never found the jokes her housemates told about him funny either. Last year, when they'd been part of Dumbledore's Army together, she'd developed an appreciation for his quiet tenacity. Something had changed about him this year too. He had a sort of self-possession now that he'd been lacking before. And nobody could deny his aptitude for making plants grow.

"You aren't bothering me," she said to his retreating back. "Would you mind helping me with this? I don't want to ruin another set of seedlings and have to start over again."

He turned to her, the brilliance of his smile undermined by the silly pink nose plugs. "Sure, Cassie. Let me get my gloves."

"Peeves isn't so bad, once you get to know him," Neville was saying as he finished tucking the last of the fertilizer around Cassie's seedlings.

"And you know him?" Cassie asked with a smile. The idea of Neville chatting with Peeves was too much.

"Yeah. I try to read to him once a week. There's a little place up off the Astronomy Tower where I used to…I mean, it's a good place to get away from everyone. I love the Gryffindors, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it gets a little loud in the tower."

"I bet it does. What sorts of stories does Peeves like?"

"Mostly he just likes to be read to at all. He likes the dirty parts of the Canterbury Tales. Anything with jokes or ghosts. If there are jokes and ghosts, he likes those best. We finished The Turn of the Screw the other day."

"I like that one. What did Peeves think of it?"

"Mixed. He thought it was spooky enough, but he didn't like that it was ambiguous as to whether the ghosts were real or all in the governess's head."

Neville's hands had grown, like the rest of him. They were no longer pudgy and short, but long-fingered and strong. When he was working in the dirt, he moved them with a confidence that Cassie wasn't used to seeing from him. It was soothing, watching him work. Her hands started to sweat. She wiped them on her robes as she forced herself to look away from the hypnotic movement.

"Do you really read to Peeves?" she asked.

"I sure do." He finished patting down her seedlings and eyed the dung jar critically. "By my guess, there are at least two more projects' worth of fertilizer here. According to Professor Sprout's rule, that means we don't have to refill the jar before dinner."

Cassie nodded shyly. "It's a good thing for me you decided to come out here. But you didn't get to work on your own project."

Neville suddenly became very interested in screwing the lid back on the dung jar. "I only came out to water my String Flowers. They do better if they're misted twice a day. Do you mind—that is—I was wondering if—"

When he wasn't looking at her, it was easier to be bold. "I can wait for you. Maybe you could tell me more about Peeves on the way back to the castle. If you—if you want to."

There was that smile again. "I'll be quick," he said, scurrying off into the rows of plants towards the back, where the more advanced projects were kept.

A strange lightness came over Cassie as she cleaned up her workbench and scrubbed the dirt from her hands. In her years at Hogwarts, she'd done an excellent job of staying in the background. But she'd managed that by being somewhat…forgettable was the best word for it. People talked to her if she was there and they had no one else better to speak to. No one ever sought her out unless they needed something from her. Play the piano for dance lessons, Cassie. Help me with my DADA essay, Cassie. Fix this Vanishing Cabinet with me, Cassie.

As she dried her hands, she tried to temper her feelings. It wouldn't do to give Neville an inkling of how much his attention today had affected her. It didn't mean anything. He was a nice boy. He probably would have helped anyone who'd been in the greenhouse struggling.

He didn't keep her waiting long. Soon they were strolling back over the grounds together. A flock of Whistledown Birds swooped overhead, calling and chattering to each other in their melodious voices. The lawn was a blur of green and purple heather, shooting up wild and fragrant. For a moment, the Vanishing Cabinet and Greyback's teeth seemed leagues away.

"How did you start reading to Peeves in the first place?" Cassie asked as she walked around a fairy ring of bright red mushrooms.

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?" Neville replied as he skirted the ring.

"If you put it that way, I have to hear it."

"Well, it started back in fourth year. I was having a terrible time in potions. Between classes I'd study until I knew the material backwards and forwards. But in class, Professor Snape made me so nervous I couldn't remember a thing." He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I'm sorry. He's your Head of House. I don't mean to speak ill of him."

"It's fine. I know he can be intimidating." Or frightening. Or terrifying. "The most important thing is to try to stay calm around him. If he can tell you're nervous, it makes him angry."

"That's exactly what Mairi used to say about him."

As they passed the lake, a squid tentacle broke the surface. A wave of water, still frigid from the winter, rushed towards them. Before Cassie could dodge, Neville had his hands around her waist, and was lifting her clean out of the way. Startled, she stared up at him until his cheeks turned red.

"Who—who's Mairi?" she asked, flustered by the moment.

Neville set her back on the ground and quickly removed his hands from her waist. "She's a ghost. She used to be up in that room off the Astronomy Tower."

More ghosts? "Used to? What happened to her?"

They continued on towards the castle, both of their faces flushed.

"She moved on. But before she did, she helped me pass potions. And she helped me get over my fear of Professor Snape."

"I didn't know there were ghosts that helpful here."

"She was one of a kind. There was one time—"

A buzzing throng of students was blocking the great door. As Cassie and Neville started to squeeze around the crowd, Freya Flint and Morgana Mulciber broke away, eager to share the latest bad news.

"Cassie! Did you hear?" Freya said excitedly. "Draco's been killed!"

"What?" Cassie's Herbology text slipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor.

"It's not true," Morgana Mulciber said as she elbowed her friend aside. "He was almost killed. And you'll never guess by who."

Cassie would have shaken Morgana if she'd thought it would get the information out of her faster. "If I can't guess, please just tell me."

"It was Gryffindor's favorite golden boy—Harry Potter!" squealed Freya. "Can you believe it?"

This time, Cassie actually did put her hands on Morgana's shoulders. "Where is he?"

"Harry?" Morgana asked.

"No, Draco," Cassie said, exasperated.

"In the hospital wing. Professor Snape caught them right when it happened and took him up there. Pansy got the whole story from Millicent who had it from—"

Cassie didn't wait to hear anymore. She let go of Morgana and dashed up the marble staircase. At the turning on the third floor, she lost her balance, skidding around the corner and crashing into the painting of the Ardent Shepherd. The little white sheep bleated at her as they scattered.

"Watch where you're going!" the shepherd boy shouted, shaking his crook at her.

"Sorry," Cassie called as she scrambled to her feet.

The double doors came in sight at the end of the hall. Cassie hardly slowed her pace as she reached them, barreling through them so quickly that the double-headed Caduceus carved into them hissed at her in protest. She nearly barreled into the house elf on the other side of the door. The squeak of her shoes skidding to a halt on the tiled floor, breaking the ominous quiet of the room.

"Does Miss have an injury?" the elf asked.

"I—no. I'm fine," Cassie replied between pants. "I came to check on another student. Draco Malfoy. I think he was brought up not very long ago."

"Is Miss related to Mr Malfoy?"

Cassie clasped her hands together. "No, I'm not. But we're working on a—a project together. I w—wanted to s—see if he was alright. Please may I see him?"

The elf tilted her head, studying Cassie with stern, but not unkind eyes. "Mugwort will go ask Madam. We will see what she says. Wait here, please."

"Thank you."

As the elf went in search of Madam Pomfrey, Cassie tried to make as little noise as possible. She held perfectly still, except for the soundless clasping and unclasping of her hands. This was only the second time she'd ever been in the Hospital Wing. Being a naturally cautious person, she'd avoided many of the injuries that her more audacious classmates had experienced. Even the yearly round of colds and sneezles had never brought her here, since Professor Snape kept the common room stocked with Pepper Up Potion and other remedies.

Madam Pomfrey appeared through the rows of curtained beds, her white apron and bonnet imposing on her sturdy frame. She peered at Cassie over her glasses, who had to make a strong effort not to shrink before her.

"Mugwort tells me you've come to visit a patient?" Madam Pomfrey said.

"Yes, ma'am," Cassie replied. "Draco Malfoy, please."

Madam Pomfrey gave a dismissive huff. "Mr Malfoy needs his rest, not a crowd of gawkers. I'm sure you understand."

Cassie had no intention of leaving without seeing Draco. It was time for the bigger spells.

"Please, ma'am. We're very good friends." She pinched the palm of her hand as she spoke, until tears formed in her eyes. "They were saying he was killed. I just—I just need to see he's okay."

She punctuated the word okay with a sob. Madam Pomfrey's stern expression wavered as Cassie wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve.

"Oh, very well," Madam Pomfrey said, pressing a starched handkerchief into Cassie's hands. "Five minutes, no longer. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"He's in the second row, last bed by the window."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Cassie dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief and darted up the row before Madam Pomfrey could change her mind. Cassie used to hate crying so easily. But then she'd learned that a few well-timed tears could be extremely useful in the right circumstances.

She found Draco in the last bed, surrounded by oppressively white privacy screens. Draco was lying on his back on the narrow bed, staring up at the ceiling. The dull red slashes marring his features stood out violently on his pale face.

"You're alive," Cassie breathed when she saw him.

"Too bad," he replied without looking at her.

She sat down on the bed next to him, but was careful not to touch him. "I'm glad that you're alive, anyway."

"Who cares what you think? I'd be better off if Potter'd finished the job for once."

A direct argument seemed useless, so she tried the more circuitous route. "I don't recognize this spell damage."

"I don't know what the tosser did. I couldn't block it. Thought I was done for. There was blood everywhere. If Professor Snape hadn't come in when he did—"

"But he did come in. That's the important thing."

"Is it? I'm not so sure."

A despairing Draco was not going to be of any use to either of them. "It won't always be like this. The wheel will turn. Our fortunes will change."

He scoffed. "Brilliant. It'll be even worse."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I need you to help me finish fixing the Cabinet. I'll take care of it best I can while you're recovering. But I can't do it all by myself."

His eyes darted to hers, and she was relieved to see a spark of annoyance in them. Any reaction was better than none.

"I help you? I thought you were helping me. And unwillingly too."

"I could have done without the melodramatics to draw me in. But I would have helped you, even without Greyback or—or anyone else. You only had to ask."

Draco turned his eyes back to the ceiling, the hint of a smile playing on his thin lips. "You're a strange girl, Cassie."

She could deal with strange. "I have to go now, before Madam Pomfrey throws me out. But I'll come back in the morning. Maybe I could read to you for a while before class."

"Do what you want. It's not like I can go anywhere."

"Goodnight. I hope you feel better soon."

He nodded curtly, and she retreated from his bedside. Madam Pomfrey met her as she came up the aisle. It only took a little wheedling to gain permission to return in the morning. As Cassie stepped out of the Hospital Wing into the hallway, the tension in her neck began to relax. At least, it did until she heard Professor Snape's soft voice.

"Miss Borgin, what are you doing here?" Professor Snape rarely spoke above a murmur. He rarely needed to.

"I w—wanted to check on Draco. I was w—worried," she replied, her hands already shaking.

"I see. I trust this setback will not affect the outcome of your…project."

Her eyes were firmly on the floor. Looking at Professor Snape had made her nervous before. Now it seemed impossible.

"I don't think Draco would want me to talk about it, sir."

"What was that?" His voice had a snarl in it, even as quiet as it was. "Look at me when you speak to me."

This was not going well. She dragged her eyes upwards, and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. "I said, I don't think Draco would want me to talk about it, sir."

"Need I remind you whom—"

"Cassie!" Neville's shout echoed through the hallway as he strode towards them; his cheeks flushed, his jaw set with grim determination.

Professor Snape was livid. "Five points from Gryffindor for shouting like a savage, Longbottom. And detention tomorrow evening unless you have a good reason for being here."

Neville's charge to her rescue was undercut by his tripping over his own feet as he reached them. He nearly stumbled into Professor Snape. The horror with which they recoiled from having to touch each other would have been comical, if Cassie hadn't been so frightened.

"I'm s—sorry, sir," Neville said when he had his feet securely back under him. "I've was looking for Cassie."

A muscle in Professor Snape's jaw started twitching.

"And you appear to have found her. Do continue," Professor Snape said.

"I—that is—" Neville took a deep, bracing breath. "Cassie and I are partners for the next Astronomy Project. We were planning to work on it tonight. That is, unless you're too upset after what—after what happened."

"No! I mean, yes, I am upset. I mean—" Cassie fumbled for words, thrown off balance by Neville's unexpected lie.

"Enough," Professor Snape interrupted. "Get out of my sight. Both of you."

Neither of them needed to be told twice. They whirled around, and hurried away from the malevolent professor. Cassie had to trot to keep up with Neville's much longer legs. They didn't slow down until they had rounded several corners, and were safely on the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower.

"We aren't really working on a project together, are we?" Cassie asked.

"No. But we'd probably better study together now, at least until the fifth years come up for class. In case Professor Snape comes to check," Neville replied. His cheeks were still red, and he looked less certain than when he'd been facing down the professor.

Cassie darted up the next two stairs, then turned to face Neville eye to eye. "Neville Longbottom, did you just lie to a professor?"

He tugged his fingers through his hair again. "I…maybe I did. We don't have to go up if you don't want to. I just thought…well you dropped your book earlier, and you missed dinner, and when I found you it looked like Professor Snape was…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

His explanation trailed off. He shoved her Herbology textbook into her hands, along with one of the tin pails the house elves sent up to the Great Hall for takeaway dinners. Before she could respond, he was heading back down the stairs, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You brought me dinner," she said stupidly.

He paused on the stairs, but didn't turn back to her. "I thought you might be hungry."

She should let him go. She was tangled up in enough messes already. Adding another person to the mix would only get them hurt.

But as Cassie stared down at him, she found she was more selfish than she'd thought.

"You were right," she said. "And I'd be happy to study with you. Maybe you could…tell me more about Mairi."

He gave her another of his brilliant smiles as he turned back to her. "Thanks, Cassie."

Don't thank me yet. "I should be thanking you, Neville. This is the third nice thing you've done for me today."

His eyes dropped to his shoes as they started to climb the stairs together. "I—I—someone should do nice things for you."

The butterflies in her stomach must be there because she was hungry. There was no other reasonable explanation for them.

"In that case, there is one more thing you could do for me," she said shyly.

"What's that?" he asked, surely more eagerly than he should have.

"Do you think you could stop running away every time you fancy you're bothering me?"

"I wasn't running away," he objected.

"Walking away. Walking away quickly."

"Deal. But only if you promise to tell me if I ever am bothering you."

"Deal."

They climbed the rest of the way in comfortable silence. The view from the Astronomy Tower was clear and wonderful when they reached it. They could see the blue curve of the sea blending with the pink of the sky at where the two met at the horizon. Neville was quiet and awkward at first, but it only took a little coaxing to get him to tell Mairi's tale while Cassie ate her dinner of shepherd's pie, asparagus, and strawberry tarts.

By the time they fetched their star charts from the pigeon holes on the classroom wall, she thought she might be on the way to making an actual friend.

Fancy that.

The trip from the dungeon to the Headmaster's office was longer today than it had ever been. Draco—and thanks to that that damned Unbreakable Vow, Severus—had been close enough to death that afternoon that Severus swore he could feel the chill of the world beyond the Veil. He was getting to old for this kind of nonsense.

As he approached the office door, he heard Minerva's voice filtering through it. It was too muffled to make out the exact words, though the tone of them made her fury clear. Good. She should be upset.

The door swung open for him before he could knock. Albus was sitting in his chair, his eyes half closed as he listened to Minerva's ranting. He gripped the arm of the chair with his uninjured hand so tightly that his knuckles were white. Severus marveled that Minerva was so dense she did not notice how much pain Albus was concealing.

"It's not enough," Minerva was saying. Her glasses had slipped down to the end of her nose, and she angrily pushed them back into place. "Potter must learn—"

"I appreciate your concern, Minerva," Albus said, his voice thin, but firm. "I have every confidence that Severus will impress upon Harry the severity of his crime. We do not need to break the boy over an honest mistake."

Honest mistake indeed. "Perhaps you give me too much credit," Severus said. "Perhaps Potter does require a heavier hand."

Minerva nodded emphatically. "You see? Potter might have killed Malfoy."

"He very nearly did," Severus said.

"I have made my decision," Albus said. "Malfoy will make a full recovery. To my understanding, Harry's attack was not unprovoked. The timing and the content of the detentions will ensure the punishment has the desired effect. And I daresay Harry will not soon forget the near fatal consequences of his thoughtlessness."

"Surely—" Minerva began.

"I said, I have made my decision." Albus's tone was cold and tight with pain.

Minerva's eyes narrowed, then widened. Perhaps she'd finally noticed what was directly in front of her face.

"I understand," she said, more calmly. "Severus, I leave this in your hands. Albus…try to get some rest, will you?"

"I believe I will do exactly that when Severus and I are finished. Good night, Minerva," Albus said.

Minerva nodded brusquely, then left them, closing the door behind her quietly. Severus did not bother to sit down. Instead, he went to the shelf next to Albus's desk to retrieve a rack of potions. Albus was rolling up the sleeve of his robe to expose his blackened skin as Severus set the potions on his desk. The black burn of the curse reached halfway up Albus's withered bicep. It would not be long before it reached his heart, stopping it completely.

"Harry learns best when his education is put to him in personal, practical terms, I think," Albus said mildly.

Severus unrolled a clean bandage and began dousing it with the contents of one of the vials. "Potter can hardly be expected to learn anything from this incident. He has too much of his father in him. It is in his nature to be cruel."

"I refuse to argue with you about the boy's character any longer. You will see what you wish to see."

"You might have come to this realization sooner. It would have saved us many hours of bickering."

Albus ignored Severus, as he often did. "However, I do insist that you understand how to reach Harry."

Severus began winding the bandage around Albus's arm. Albus hissed and flinched as the potion burned into his skin.

"I should think that is a lost cause at this point," Severus said.

Albus's eyes flew open, piercing Severus's with their brilliance. "No. You must find a way to speak to him so that he listens. I fear it will be quite some time yet until Harry is ready to face our dear Tom. Much will have happened between now and then. It is imperative that, when the time comes, Harry knows what is expected of him. You will have to convince him to believe you. To trust you."

Severus's blood ran cold. He had less desire to inform Potter of his doom than he did to be the author of Albus's. "Then you'd best entrust someone else with the task of telling him."

"I cannot. You are the only one I can trust with this matter."

The mixture of bitterness, rage, and sorrow this statement evoked choked Severus. He stared into Albus's fierce eyes until he was forced to look away. Albus had been playing this game since long before Severus was born. It was no wonder he'd already won.

"I will do what I can," Severus muttered.

"I know that you will."

Severus finished applying the treatment in silence. His thoughts ran riot, fighting against every unbearable task he'd been set, dredging up every horrible event that had led him here.

He took a shuddering breath, pushing all of it away. "When the potion has been fully absorbed, you will feel stronger. It is a mirage. Every spell you cast will bring you closer to an end you will not feel coming until it is too late."

"Wouldn't that be a blessing for you." Albus collapsed against his high-backed chair, one hand over his eyes.

Severus tied off the bandage around Albus' wrist. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief, then threw it into the roaring fire. Even on this warm spring evening, he knew Albus was freezing. The old man's body was shutting down, inching inexorably towards death.

"I would not be sorry to avoid the task of killing you," Severus said as he watched the cloth crumble to ash.

"You've made your objections painfully clear. If I were a less patient man, I would say I was tired of hearing them. Instead, I suffer in silence."

Severus's lips curled in a mocking smile. "Your silence speaks volumes."

"There will come a time very soon when I will require Harry's assistance. You may be called upon to release him from detention if there is a conflict."

"Of course. Exception after exception for the golden Harry Potter."

"This pettiness hardly suits a man of your age."

On another day, Severus might have continued their battle of wills. But looking at Albus's frail form, he did not have the heart to continue. He pulled a vial of golden liquid from a pocket, and handed it to Albus.

"No more than one of these in a twenty-four hour period, unless you wish to stop your heart prematurely," he warned.

Albus drank it down eagerly, sighing as the magic began to flow through his veins. "You have more brewing?"

For a man who had never taken the Healer's vow of doing no harm, Severus felt uncomfortably burdened by the knowledge of what this "treatment" was doing to his patient. "Yes."

"Excellent. I will need whatever strength can be mustered for me until the last possible moment. There is still much to be done."

Severus's fingers twitched, itching to snatch up the rack of potions and hurl it to the floor, destroying the lot. He had to pace away from the desk in order to resist. When he came to a stop in front of the ever moving dials in the Headmaster's scrying dish, he lashed out at it. The silvery arms of the largest dial cut into the back of his hand as he struck it. It spun to the floor with a satisfying crash. Severus clutched his hand into a fist, panting as his heart raced in useless fury.

"If you would tell me what these things are that need doing, it wouldn't be necessary to push you to the edge of oblivion," he growled, his back to Albus.

Albus chuckled. "After Minerva informed me on no uncertain terms that you were not to be given any more impossible tasks? I would not think of it."

"Don't!" Severus whirled back to him. "Don't you dare."

The smile fell away from Albus' face. His eyes, once so full of humor and mischief, were dull and haunted. "You may not believe this, but I am aware of the terrible weight of all I have asked you to do. Especially now."

"You're right. I don't believe you."

"I like Miranda very well. I believe she has been good for you. It pains me to know you will lose her."

The change of topic threw Severus momentarily off guard. "I have no intention of losing her."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "I see. Then you have broken your word to me. You have told her our plans."

One would think that Severus would be immune to Albus's disappointment by now. "Of course I haven't told her. I would not endanger either our purpose, or her, with that knowledge."

Albus gave him one of those awful smiles—the one that carried the weight of the world in it. "I am relieved to hear that. However, surely you realize what will happen when you end my life and take your place as Tom's lieutenant. Miranda's morality may be flexible, but I doubt it is as flexible as all that."

Severus's heart beat with a cold fury, but his voice was steady. "Do not concern yourself with Miranda. She is my problem to deal with."

"Severus—"

"Good night, Albus. Get some rest."

He swept out of the office, unwilling to listen to another word. Down the winding stairs he went, through the castle, through the front doors, out into the night. He did not slow his steps, even when he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as though his body might outrun his thoughts in the way his mind had failed to do. The forest was his old friend, and he did not fear its dangers. He needed its darkness to sooth him.

For a long time, Severus had believed that he would die in the course of fulfilling his mission. Worn down with the pains of life, he'd even welcomed the idea. It had seemed proper—poetic even. The perfect ending to an otherwise futile existence.

Now he was closer to death than he'd ever been. He could feel the cords of the Unbreakable Vow drawing tighter with every passing day. But he no longer wanted to die. He wanted to believe—he needed to believe—that there could be a life on the other side of this madness.

And when he reached it, he wanted Miranda to be there with him.

End Note:

You can read all about Neville and Mairi in my stories Mairi's Ghost, and Infelix Ego