My apologies again for the length of this chapter. We've come down to the climax of the story as far as Antonin Dolohov is concerned, and I had thought of splitting this chapter up into 2 segments but neither had the impact I wanted to give. Thanks for bearing with me.
DAHLIA breathed a shuddering sigh as she rolled her neck to crack it once out of the stuffy air of Wes Walker's tumbledown shack. Out of the corner of her gaze, she swore she saw Severus relax as he followed her outside. She felt his gaze on her as he trailed behind her, seemingly hellbent on not letting her out of his sight.
She sighed, frustrated, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked in a dry and flat voice that made her cringe. Severus did not answer her at first.
His only words to her were, "I should."
"Then go, go back inside, you don't need to follow me out here like I'm a child. I'm more than capable of handling myself, trust me, I'm not a girl that's to be trifled with, despite you having to save me a couple of times," she heard herself bark in a curt voice, speaking to Severus Snape as though the man were a child of twelve instead of an adult of thirty-seven. "Let yourself heal, Sev."
"Tch," he scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust at the idea, though she did not see as her back was turned. "And leave you out here in the Forest by yourself? Not a chance, Hawthorne, knowing you, you'd trip over your damn foot or burn the whole Forest down if I wasn't here to keep an eye on you," he growled. She could almost see him smile out of pity, though there was none of the spite that dripped from his tone, not since the early days of their partnership. She only wished he wanted the same thing she did.
She went on, ignoring his question.
"It's enough that I now know what made Peter, well….him." Her words were cold. "If I'd known earlier, I wouldn't have trusted him." She sighed heavily and turned to face Severus, her eyes austere, face unsmiling.
His steps grew halting as he lost himself in the thought of her. Instantly, Dahlia's previously hardened expression softened, her anger towards learning what Peter Pettigrew had done replaced with worry and concern for Severus. Her worried gaze found the man's unusually soft and heavy dark eyes.
"We should sit," she offered. "Are you tiring?" she asked quietly, worried that perhaps taking a walk this late at night was a misguided idea, and it was bad enough that Severus had taken it upon himself to follow her and was taxing his body too much.
Severus could have walked across Hell itself with her if that's what it took to keep the witch by his side but found in his mind he wanted more time to linger.
"For a bit," he grunted, turning his face to the side, closer to Dahlia's.
Dahlia reddened with a shy blush that almost made Severus smile, thinking he found it irresistible. She lowered her eyes, searching for a spot in the forest clearing they found themselves in that would give him comfort among the branches and the scrub. As she inspected the woodland path ahead, her eyes were drawn to what appeared to be a shaft of moonlight breaking through the thick canopy in the distance.
It seemed to call to her, for some reason. Dahlia decided to trust it.
"There, can you make it there?" she asked, pointing towards the clearing with a finger.
Severus took Dahlia's arm, willing to follow the Healer anywhere she wanted to go. "Lead the way, Hawthorne, you're my Healer, you know what's best for me," he accepted with a pained grunt with just a twinge of sarcasm, his heart racing wildly at the sensation of her touch.
Together, they navigated the trail to where the moonlight brightened the dark woods.
Severus watched the white light warm the witch's face as they approached the area. He let out a pained groan as she braced him on top of a pile of fallen timber, the rough wood of the tree scratching into the fabric of his new black woolen tunic that Dahlia had cleaned for him while Norah had been applying a poultice. The rough wood of the bark scratched into his back and was a welcome respite from the throbbing pain at his ribcage.
It was Dahlia who broke the awkward silence that now existed between them.
"A-are we just…going to sit here?" She began and realized a fraction of a second too late that her question sounded too much like a proposition. She colored and tried again. "I—I mean…surely there is something we could talk about," she stammered, trying to correct herself.
He flushed. "Thank you," Severus barked in a hoarse voice, solemn after a moment as he thought over his words. It was all he could utter at the moment. "That is twice now you've saved my life, Dahlia." He brought his eyes to hers and held their soft brown depths within his gaze.
Dahlia looked at him, stunned by his choice of words. "You—you took a blade that was meant for me. I was the one Dolohov wanted, not you," she reminded him. "You stepped in front of him right as he conjured that stupid knife." She shivered with the memory. "It's you who saved me, and I can't…thank you enough."
Severus shook his head, trying to send her words away, remembering how narrowly Dahlia had escaped death at the hands of Antonin, again.
"There was nothing else to have been done," he growled lowly, taking her hand. "I would do so again and consider myself one of the luckiest wizards in the world," he told her, earnestly, not a hint of jest or sarcasm could be traced in his black eyes.
Dahlia was silent for a moment, tears starting to well at the edges of her eyes. She finally spoke, her voice choked with fear.
"I thought…that I'd lost you," she sobbed. She turned towards Severus as if just the thought of it would steal the man away from her now.
Severus lowered her head and rested his brow against the witch's temple.
"I'd fight the Dark Lord himself if that's what it took for me to stay by your side, Hawthorne," he swore to her, gathering his Healer in his arms. He held her almost painfully tight until he felt Dahlia's terror loosen its vice grip on her heart as he heard her sigh, the sound of a half-choked sob escaping its way past her throat as she did so.
"I heard what you said," he smiled, watching a beam of moonlight catching a lock of her hair.
Dahlia pulled back from him, questioning Severus with her eyes.
"What I said?" she asked, quietly and confused, the furrow of confusion between her brows deepening.
Severus nodded, an odd little half-smile playing on his lips as he reached up a lock of auburn hair that he noticed affectionately he was letting her hair grow a little longer to past her shoulders, back behind the shell of her ear.
His smile widened, and his eyes softened.
"I heard you. You said you loved me," he stared at her, his black eyes threatening to bore a hole right through her, and it was all the witch could do was stare back, not to squirm underneath the intensity of the wizard's stare.
"Oh, that," Dahlia teased. Her expression feigned innocence at the importance of her confession. "Well, ah, in the heat of the moment, you were injured…" The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back a grin.
A frustrated groan rose from his throat.
"Are you thinking of taking back your words, Hawthorne? Don't even think of lying to me," he growled, though his eyes burned with a mischief Dahlia wished to see more of in him. "You told me that you loved me," he declared.
Dahlia eyed him for a moment with raised eyebrows and then couldn't keep up her façade of humor.
Gently, she brought her hand up to caress the man's cheek. She stared deep into the fathomless pits of black that were his eyes, soft loving tears forming in the depths of hers.
"I did, of course, I love you, Sev, how—how couldn't I?" she answered, moving her other hand to hold his jaw. "You're not who I thought you were, what the public is portraying you as," she whispered, her voice choking with emotion. "And I'm glad, Severus."
Severus smoothed a stray lock of hair back from Dahlia's face and stared at the tears that were suddenly brimming in the witch's brown eyes, trying to make sense of them.
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, quietly and confused, resisting the uncomfortable itch to dip into the witch's mind, to read her thoughts and discern the truth for himself, wishing to take away her pain and selflessly absorb it if he could.
Dahlia sniffed and reached up a finger and flicked away the last of a stinging tear that left her sore and red-rimmed eyes.
"I want you to promise me something," she begged in a warbling note, a full thought more than she could push past her tongue that felt heavy and thick in her mouth. "Swear it," she growled.
"Promise you what?" he asked slowly, wishing to take the worry from her mind.
She swallowed down past a lump in her throat and breathed out a shuddering breath.
"That we'll visit my grandfather, if he's still alive, on my mother's side. He was the only person in my family that ever gave a shit about me. He tried to take me away from my father at a young age, but Father nearly killed him for it. He was smart enough to stay away after that and cut off contact, never speaking to me," she quietly explained, the bitterness seeping to the surface of her voice. "I want you to tell him of the good I've done in the world." She closed her eyes against the dread in her heart for a long moment. As she opened them to regard Severus again, the sadness in her eyes ripped him apart. "I—I broke the Statute of Secrecy, Severus, when I burnt my father's house down, remember?" she reminded him sardonically, her voice filled with guilt. "That's punishable by a couple of years in Azkaban, though considering how much my father hated Umbridge, the old toad, she's sure to make my life a living hell for what he did. She's sure to have me executed after all this," Dahlia murmured, her voice turning small and terrified as her hands shook within Snape's grasp.
Severus caught his breath, unwilling to entertain the dire scenario his Healer described. He shook his head vehemently, dismissing her words as if he alone held the power to decide her fate.
"You will tell him yourself when we see him," he promised her. "You wanted the memory gone," he tried to justify the choice she'd made. "There was nothing else that you could have done. It was old, condemned, it would have had to come down anyways. The way I see it, foolish though it was, and ill-thought-out, you were simply ahead of the Ministry." He tried to give Dahlia hope. He grasped her fingers to his lips as she moved to touch tenderly his face. "The Ministry of Magic would not order your arrest over this, this is trivial. Yes, you broke the law. The most they could do is likely fine you, and even then it wouldn't be much," he tried to reassure her, reminded that Kingsley Shacklebolt was the one who held the position of Minister now, and perhaps now that there was an intelligent and competent wizard in the seat these days, changes would be instituted. "Hear me now," he murmured in a lowly voice, his entire body practically shaking with anger and the solemnity of his vow to her. "No one, not Minister Shacklebolt, is taking my Healer away from me. I will never allow anyone else to threaten you, not Antonin Dolohov when we find him, not the dead Inferi, not Hagrid's damned three-headed bloody dog that's somewhere in the Forest, not an Acromantula, and especially not that hag of a witch Dolores Umbridge," Severus hissed. "Do you understand?"
She studied Severus, wanting to believe him. "What if they're waiting for us when we get back up to the castle?" She shuddered at the thought. Her face fell even further at the idea.
"They won't be," he assured her, though even he doubted his words. Lupin had told him the Aurors had been informed of his idea.
There was every chance the Auror Department knew the two of them were tracking down Antonin.
Racking his brain for something else to change the subject to put her mind at ease, an idea came to him, a topic of conversation he had been hoping to broach with her soon enough. He supposed there was no time like the present, though in the middle of the Forbidden Forest was not exactly how he'd have planned this.
Awkwardly clearing his throat, the gesture was enough to get Dahlia to lift her gaze to his.
"With your…home burnt down, you'll be needing a place to stay once the school term ends for the year," he rose a brow at her, hoping that Dahlia would catch onto his meaning. When she didn't and remained silent, he fought the urge to roll his eyes and pressed on. "Stay with me," he urged, doing his best to quell the note of desperation in his quiet tone. "Live with me."
He watched her in wide-eyed wonder for her answer. He heard Dahlia's breaths hitch in her throat.
"I….you…you would want that?" she asked, incredulous, something like a laugh catching in her throat. "But…you hate me," she weakly joked, her smile looking strained.
"As you hate me, Hawthorne," Severus was half-smiling, his memories drifting to the intimate moment in the dark confines of his office before they had been so rudely interrupted by Peeves. A shadow of anger flitted across his face at thoughts of the ornery poltergeist, but he shoved thoughts of Peeves aside, not wanting to dwell on the memory that McGonagall was sure to give them both seven shades of holy hell for when they returned up to the castle with Peter Pettigrew in tow. "But…perhaps…it wouldn't be so bad to pretend that you and I could love each other. It would make tolerating your company at Hogwarts more bearable," he teased, though the wizard's black eyes were serious, not a hint of jest could be traced in the man's eyes' depths.
Dahlia laughed and lifted her hands to his warm cheeks. "I—yes, of course. I—I'd love that. I'd love to move in with you, Severus."
Slowly, she damped her warm lips on his and kissed him tenderly, and Severus was more than eager to welcome her kiss.
He ran his hands through her red tresses and held her behind the neck before pressing his weight on her further until they lay on the ground she closed her eyes as he buried his face in the junction of her neck and she lost herself to the sensation of loving him...
ONCE they made it back to Wes's home, it didn't take long for Severus to fall asleep, his body taxed from their short walk in the Forest. Dahlia did not sleep. Though the witch wanted consciously to give Severus the space the man needed, something pulled her to him. The need to hold him. Almost involuntarily, her arm wound around Severus as he slept. His hair tickled her nose as she breathed in his scent.
It should have annoyed her, but didn't, though she would be the first to admit she thought he would look better with his hair shorter. Making a mental note to broach the subject with him at some point, she thought about how, as she held him, Dahlia wondered if Severus truly knew just how much he had her under his spell. She had attempted to maintain a professional distance, but he had thoroughly slain her like a wild dragon.
What was even crazier, Dahlia thought, was she reveled in being slain, she enjoyed the notion of being under Severus Snape's spell. She was grateful she lost the battle to maintain distance.
Of course, she was terrified at the notion of whatever would lay ahead of them, with Dolohov still out in the world, still targeting them, but this—him—was still what she wanted. What was the damned bloody use in living with the fear of loss, if she had stayed away, then she'd have lost Severus Snape every day, inch by inch, little by little? A slow and horrible, insidious type of pain, loss was.
Dahlia, frustrated, sighed, and stretched, stretching her aching arms and legs, which honestly needed no stretching at all, as she looked tiredly out into the night sky out the lone window in Wes Walker's home.
She furrowed her brows as a low sound reached her eardrums.
What…? She frowned as she heard a creak coming from outside, to their right, near the door. She bolted to her feet, her hand on the handle of her wand when she got to the door.
Suddenly, her ears were burning, and her stomach was in knots, heart pounding in her throat painfully. She swallowed and it felt to her like she was swallowing knives.
Calm down. It's a bloody Forest, for god's sake. Merlin only knows what sort of creatures are out there. It makes goddamn noises, Hawthorne, she told herself and let out a shaky breath.
Despite her mind screaming at her not to do this, to turn around and wake Severus or Wes, even Peter if she was of a mind to, she twisted the doorknob and slipped outside. For good measure, wishing to let Severus get as much rest as she possibly could, she threw up a nonverbal Muffliato spell around Wes's home.
It meant no one would hear her if she ran into trouble, but if it was a way to ensure Severus's safety, then so bloody be it. She froze when she heard the sound of a twig cracking underfoot.
A surge of adrenaline flooded through her veins, thinking she could not recall a time when she had been more scared in her entire adult life and it was a feeling Dahlia could not have explained, no matter how hard she tried.
"Goddamn it," she swore through gritted teeth as she could hear the heavy thudding of the wizard's boots.
She knew that sound, the way Antonin Dolohov walked. Thoughts of what the wizard might do to her when he finally caught her went swimming through her reeling mind. Would he just kill her? Would her assault her and then kill her? Kill her and then violate her? She shuddered at the thought.
No matter which course of action, she didn't want to find out.
"How the hell did you find us…?" she swore, wide-eyed and terrified as her gaze landed on him as he stood on the opposite side of the clearing, his shoulders broad and strong, heaving slightly as he breathed heavily, and his head cocked to the side. It was truly one of the most frightening scenes Dahlia had seen in several years, excluding the carnage of the Battle of Hogwarts.
And as she saw the familiar glinting metal of the Lestrange's knife, the very same weapon he had stabbed Severus's ribcage with, in combination with his looming, intimidating body in his black woolen robes, glinting eyes, and the metal skull mask that all the Death Eaters had worn clutched in his hand that he let drop to the ground by his boots, she knew she had to try to fight like hell to protect him.
If she didn't, she would be dead anyway, and then the man would slit Severus's throat in his sleep and likely do the same to Norah, Wes, and Peter, and that, she knew she couldn't allow.
She inhaled a very, very deep breath, glanced up towards the sky to say a silent prayer to whoever was up there looking out for her, and then sent the first Stunning Spell his way, throwing herself at the man on the balls of her feet, grateful she was still wearing her boots and she'd not thought to change her clothes.
Dolohov did the same, but a half-second after her, and she violently skidded to a halt to her left to avoid a nonverbal Sectumsempra Hex, she felt the man's gloved fingers glancing off her shirt.
She swore under her breath and then screamed in agony as she heard a small sound and she spun lightning fast on her heels, brandishing her wand with the intent to kill, but it was too late. She heard the ripping of her shirt, the splitting of flesh and rupture of bones—her own.
Oh, great, she thought sarcastically, her one last lucid thought. Now we match, she mused, and almost managed a weak laugh as she thought of Severus's wound. Her wand fell from her fingers and her eyes traveled upwards from Antonin Dolohov's blank face, his eyes showing nothing but apathy, and down to her hands that groped at the Lestrange's thick carving knife that was now buried in her leg. It wouldn't be long until the pain would scatter once the worst of her shock subsided. Dahlia coughed in between breaths. A warm fluid started to rise in her throat, bile, choking back the only word she wanted to ask Dolohov. Why? Why?
"Why…" Dahlia finally managed, almost a whisper between clenched teeth. She felt tears come to her eyes as the strength in her legs left her and she fell to her knees, and then her stomach on the ground.
Dahlia groped for her wand with shaking fingers, but the wizard was already looming over. She screeched at the top of her lungs and kicked out with her unwounded leg. The heel of her black boot landed squarely in between Dolohov's legs and the wizard fell to his knees, hands between his knees, shoulders hunched, a steady stream of expletives ripped from his lips.
She had heard of people being able to do truly amazing things in times of great strife or the adrenaline that was able to propel you forward to keep going when you otherwise thought yourself incapable of carrying on, but she had never truly understood what the human body and mind were capable of until that moment.
Reaching forward, she ripped at the knife embedded in her leg, screams still leaving her mouth as the blade slowly grated against the bone and slid it from her leg. If she weren't so bloody high on adrenaline right about now, Dahlia might have mused just how difficult the task of pulling a blade from a body was.
But this seemed lodged, stuck, permanent. But the knife finally wrenched free, and she dropped it. She pushed herself to her feet with her hands, tears in her eyes, and tried to hold her wand steady and level as her hand shook. To her horror and furious rage, Dolohov's lips curved upward into a warped and twisted smile.
"You're tougher than you look, Dahlia," Dolohov taunted in his rough, grating voice. "Must have been hard for you to watch me kill your lover," he taunted mockingly as he growled through gritted teeth. "Maybe you should try me instead, sweetheart. A sniveling snake-like Snape couldn't possibly satisfy a woman like you, Hawthorne, am I right? He just slithers back into his hole like the coward that he is. I could protect you. Provide for you, in the way that both your father and Severus failed to do, and for that, I apologize, but if you want yourself to have a bright future, then you will come with me, witch, of your own volition, and quiet."
She could tell by the anticipation gleaming in his eyes that a pause in her answer was nothing he could have hoped for. He could surely sense the revolt and hatred that Dahlia was nursing against him, only natural, considering she had forced his hand in hurting her to subdue her, but it was the only way to get Hans's daughter to listen to any semblance of reason. If she wanted to prove that she wasn't at all stupid, then she better embrace his offer now.
"Are you…listening to yourself?" Dahlia's breath trembled as she gasped heavy breaths, the surge of adrenaline coursing through her and temporarily numbing the pain in her leg. "You—you propose to me after hurting me? So much…talk of…respect. You could…defeat a fire-breathing dragon…and I would never marry you, Dolohov. Not in this life…or the next," she growled. She felt him tense, and she stiffened, waiting.
Dolohov offered a small laugh. "That bastard inside has you good, doesn't he?" he said.
Dahlia's anger flared up and the words were ripped from her lips before she could stop herself. "I'd rather have a man like Severus than his traitor of a friend who plunged a dagger into his ribs and my leg."
Dahlia felt herself shudder with angst and pain, feeling as small as a thirteen-year-old back home receiving news of her grandmother's death before Father lashed out at her in his grief. How Antonin Dolohov's eyes darkened turned cold and made Dahlia's chest dent. Finally, she heard in him the sinister side of the Dolohov family ancestry that he'd inherited, the Death Eater she knew him to be.
"You leave me no choice then," he growled.
Dolohov reached for his belt and retrieved the same knife that he had stabbed Severus with.
Her eyes widened in fear and anger as she saw the size of it up close and personal like this, and she took a little step back but still, she raised her wand in her trembling hands. He shifted his wand from one hand to the other before settling on his right hand, the ambidextrous wizard that he was.
Dahlia wondered if she might be able to get him to circle with her, and when he was temporarily caught off guard by his over-confidence, she could move. She could escape into the Forest and lead him away from Severus and the others, but she had no idea if she could outrun. She couldn't put any weight on her leg. It would give out immediately and it was then that the pain returned full force, like a violent slap across the face.
"I'll kill you," she spat out, whisper hissing the words through gritted teeth, her voice trembling, and his smile widened but it was cold and smug. He took a step towards her, waiting for her to make the first move, and her arms trembled. She didn't know how much longer she could stand, how long her adrenaline could win out, but Dahlia knew she couldn't approach him. She needed Antonin to make the first move, or she was most certainly done for. "Come on," she said through gritted teeth and sent a Stunning Spell towards him that he easily side-stepped out of the way, smiling at her. "Come on then, if you want me, bastard. Come get me."
Dolohov merely smirked and tilted his head, his dark eyes glittering, almost turning black.
"Come on, then, whatever you're going to do, be a man, Dolohov, don't be a coward," she snarled in anger and the wizard's smile dropped off so abruptly that it made her stomach turn.
Slowly, Antonin took a step towards her, and she took a staggering step backward. She groaned in pain as she shifted her weight to her hurt leg, but she did not let her eyes leave him.
Dahlia had no idea if she should keep goading him, hoping the wizard would make a mistake in his anger, or try to backtrack and head inside and immediately wake Severus and the others like she ought to have done in the first place the moment that she heard the noise outside, cursing herself for her stupidity.
If she did fail, she did not want it to be worse for her than it had to be. Play it safe or all in, Hawthorne, she said to herself, trying to give herself some courage. You need to make up your mind, and fast, or he's going to kill you.
Dahlia did not know if goading to him would make Antonin angry enough to lose concentration or give him, even more, focus but trying to supplicate him seemed as big of a risk, with a bigger toll on her pride, and on her life.
He might still violate her and kill her, even if she apologized and begged for her life and the lives of Severus, Norah, Wes, and Peter, who were still safely nestled in the house and had no idea of the knowledge of her plight just outside. She wished she would have woken them up.
"Big strong man, huh? Scared of a woman," she taunted as Dolohov stood there in front of her, looming, very nearly snarling at her, his muscles beneath his robes trembling in rage. His robes fit him not tightly but snugly and she could see the wizard had a nicer layer of muscle underneath. It was no question in her mind that Antonin Dolohov could easily overpower her. She would just need to get a good, fast, and deadly jab at him before the man had a chance to get at her. "Is that why you wear the mask? You're just a coward? Or is your mug so goddamned ugly you can't bear to look at yourself in the mirror at home, huh?" Dahlia shouted.
A cry of rage was ripped from his lips as he lunged at her, and she sent the Cruciatus Curse his way, but she couldn't tell if it made contact as they stumbled onto the hard, barren earth. The weight of him crushed her and an agonizing, white-hot, flaring pain shot through her shin.
It had not been so deep, but the bone had been compromised and she screamed. His gloved hand went to cover over her mouth, but it closed over her nose as well, cutting off any hope that she might have of obtaining oxygen for her quickly burning lungs. Tears left her eyes as she wallowed in her massive failure.
Dolohov's knee forced its way between her legs, and she wailed on him with her wrists, but it did absolutely no good. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she attempted to shove him off of her, and her leg suddenly hurt more than she could comprehend. Dahlia continued to hit Antonin as she felt his knee rub between her hips. She had a horrifying moment of realization as she felt him press himself against her that because she told him he wasn't a man, he was going to show her that he was a man. But he made no move to fumble with the waistbands of her black jeans or her shirt. Instead, the wizard's hand remained closed over her face, smothering her, and her brain began to turn foggy as her lungs continued to burn. She was sure she was going to die now.
This was bloody it. She had failed Severus, but at least Dolohov wouldn't assault her, not alive anyway, which she supposed was a comforting thought. She only wished she knew for sure that Severus would be safe from harm. She wondered if some good would have come from waking up the others inside Wes's house before venturing outside to investigate the noise on her own. But what good could she have done?
She had needed to get help and she'd failed, and now, she and the others were dead. The last thing she felt before black spots began to creep at the edges of her vision was an unending, unbearable shame.
Though before her vision could flee her completely, she felt Antonin's weight lifted off of her temporarily, and her eyes went wide as she scrambled backward and screamed with as much force as her burning lungs could muster.
Her eyes went wide as a spider, easily the largest she had ever seen, thrust its pincer that was easily the length of her leg, deep into Dolohov's chest. Dahlia's blood turned sour. The details began etching on the witch's mind—the wizard's screams turning to guttural, blood-filled, choking rattles in his throat, the pincers of the spider buried deep in Antonin Dolohov's chest, and already, it was beginning to weave his body around its silk, to store his body which was rapidly draining of color as the light left his eyes as the spider's venom began to flow through his bloodstream, stopping the beating of his heart, to feed later. And she would be next if she didn't move.
Despite death itself staring at her with beady eyes, Dahlia could not manage to tear her gaze away at what the spider was making of Antonin, her and Severus's attacker, and would-be- murderer if he had been given the chance to finish what he started, now staring back vacantly at her with bloodied and lifeless eyes.
More blood splattered and stained the tree roots close to them and Dahlia heard with both horror and a sickening sense of immense satisfaction the way that Dolohov's last breath left his lips.
A ringing began to screech on her ears and her heart was almost bursting against her ribs. Oh, Merlin, she was bloody feeling it. A drop of rage and fear now fevering and spreading as she had never felt before.
Her breaths were half-mad, falling out of control. A strange itch ruptured on her jaws and had begun wringing in her mouth as the spider finally took notice of her once Dolohov was fully bound in its cocoon of smooth silk.
Her consciousness began to ebb and fade at the sound of the spider scuffling towards her, and even in the dull embrace of blackness, a dull pain began to fester from her midsection, and the last thought she had before the darkness took her, was how reckless this idea had been, how she wished things could have been different...
The last thing she felt before her world went black was an unbearable, hot shame.
SEVERUS could not remember ending up here, waking and finding Dahlia, not by his side, nor did he remember Peter Pettigrew's body thudding against the wall as his shaking fingers wound their way tight around his neck.
"Where is she, Wormtail? Tell me what you know. I detect when you lie to me so don't. I'll know if you're lying to me, Wormtail..." His cold black eyes glinted with what seemed insurmountable stress.
Through his sniveling as Peter attempted to plead for mercy and maintain his innocence, the shorter, stouter man could see in Snape his most desperate stance and his fear grew thick. Nor could Severus remember Wormtail attempting to sputter out an answer, Norah and Wes waking at hearing the commotion, and the next, both werewolves' hands were around his waist and shoulders, pulling him away from the wretched disgusting rat.
"Severus, sir—" Norah began in a shaking voice, trying to calm him, but in his panic, he spoke at the same time as the blonde.
"She's missing—Dahlia's missing, I don't know where she's got off to now, but I know the rat has something to do with this—"
Though before Norah could attempt to say anything that would supplicate the Potions Master of Hogwarts and prevent him from killing Pettigrew in a blind rage, a scream pierced its way from close by outside.
Everyone froze for a second as they all came to the same conclusion.
That was Dahlia's voice and it sounded as though the witch were in danger.
"Dahlia," Wes breathed in a shaking voice, his yellow irises flashing dangerously. "Come on!"
Wes Walker bounded forward on his heels, ignoring Severus's look of disgust as the blond werewolf made a grab for Severus's hand and barreled towards the front door. The moment the werewolf opened the front door of his home and stepped out into the cold night air, with Severus, Norah, and Wormtail right behind Wes Walker on his heels, Severus's heart leaped up into his throat as his eyes could make out the figure of a baby Acromantula that was easily the size of a washtub stalking Dahlia, hissing at his Healer threateningly.
His mind refused to believe what he was seeing. His body seemed to move in slow motion as the spider lifted its pincers and sank them into her stomach. Severus's mind raced with dread as he brandished his wand, sending the last and worst of the Unforgiveable Curses the creature's way. With a loud, horrible shriek, the spider shuddered and fell, landing in a crumpled heap next to Dahlia's motionless form. His mind raced with dread as he ran to her. How could this have happened? Why hadn't he heard her get up and leave his side? Why had it not been him instead? He would bargain with Merlin Himself if he could, or the Muggles' God, whichever one of them existed, to make it him that was kneeling bloodied and poisoned with Acromantula venom on the ground instead of her.
It was as he felt if every inch of the pincer as it ripped through Dahlia's body and had begun to poison her.
If it had been his bloodstream that was infected by the poison that burned your insides and paralyzed your limbs, it surely would have been far less torture than seeing the creature drive it through the woman that he knew himself to be in love with. Falling to his knees, he cradled the witch's limp form in his arms.
Her eyes were open, though Severus doubted that she could see anything. He did not think he could stomach the fear and bewilderment in her eyes as she stared numbly up at him.
He held her tight in his arms, her brown eyes beginning to swim as if she was struggling to focus on his face. Severus felt panic seize his heartstrings and he grew more desperate.
"Stay with me, Hawthorne, you'll be alright," he told her quietly as he pressed his forehead to hers.
For one brief moment, Dahlia saw Severus through the haze beginning to take over her vision. She raised her hand to touch his face. Her fingers lingered on his cheek and then fell limply to her side, leaving streaks of crimson blood down Severus's angular jaw. Her head fell back against the crook of his left arm, and her eyelids fluttered closed, slowly.
"No!" Severus roared, his body shaking with pure force as if he could will his Healer to be healed.
Wes's wolfish hearing perked up at the sound of Severus's agonized cries over the wind rustling the leaves of the canopy of trees. He turned to see the Potions Master hunched over Dahlia's fallen body. His yellow eyes grew wide with alarm. He remembered both times the pain of losing witches that he had loved before coming to his sense and taking his best friend Norah for his mate following his accidental attack against her.
He had thought she'd not want to see him again following the incident, but if anything, it brought them closer. But before her, he had lost women he loved, and now, despite his general misgivings of Severus Snape, even he would not wish on the man the pain of grieving the one who held his heart.
Behind him, he heard Norah and the rat gasp in shock, but he did not turn around to acknowledge his mate or the rat, instead running to where Severus cradled Dahlia, dropping to his knees alongside the man, fearing that her precious life was already lost.
Wes yelled Snape's name urgently. Three times, he called for him, and still, Severus Snape did not answer him, his heart and soul adrift in mourning, thinking the witch to be dead. But it was at that moment that Dahlia inhaled sharply, her unconscious body taking over and trying to find the breath that was alluding to her. She was still alive, still fighting.
Feeling Dahlia's chest rising through her shirt, and hearing the sharp gurgle in her throat, Severus came to himself a bit. It wasn't over. He laid Dahlia gingerly on the ground, and reached for his wand, though before he could utter the incantation to allow some of the blood she had lost to flow back into her body, Wes halted his movements, resting a hand on his arm and preventing him from acting.
"No, don't! We need to get her back up to the castle to the Hospital Wing! The other Matron Healer is there, she can care for her there, or—or we should take her to St. Mungo's!" Wes shouted.
Severus did not look up, gathering Dahlia in his arms as he stood. Wes took the lead, shooting a dark look at Norah as they passed. His mate took the hint, waving her wand and conjuring a length of iron wrought manacles to burst forth from the tip of her wand and snake their way around Peter Pettigrew's wrists, ensuring that the wizard could not escape, as she confiscated the man's wand that was tucked away in the pocket of his pinstripe suit. Before Wes could start down the woodland path that would lead them back towards the castle, Severus heard a voice that he did not recognize, a wizard's deep baritone voice.
"Severus Snape and Dahlia Hawthorne, I would venture to guess, you've caused my team no small amount of trouble," an elegant, even voice rang out from somewhere behind the group. All four of them turned towards the voice in time to see an un-amused Auror standing on top of a slightly elevated bit of land. The man had dark disheveled hair and piercing blue eyes. The Ministry employee was looking somewhat angry and surrounded by four other colleagues, all of them with their wands drawn. Though his coworkers behind him did not aim their wands at the group, they did keep their wands in their hands, likely only as a reminder.
"My name is Auror Ridge Evergreen, Professor Snape," the wizard in the center spoke as his eyes widened as his gaze rested on Dahlia's bloodied, fading form in Severus's arms and then flicked downward to linger on Antonin Dolohov's body staring lifelessly up at the darkened sky. "Auror Tonks-Lupin informed us of your intentions to go after Death Eater Antonin Dolohov on your own and asked we follow you. It took some time to track you down. She's asked us to bring you back, as she feared for your well-being, and it appears that Mrs. Lupin was correct in that regard. It would seem you need the Head Matron's capabilities, yes?"
Severus scowled but nodded his head.
The Auror needed no further encouragement and brandished his wand. "Allow my colleagues and I to escort you back up to the castle. Do not worry about Mr. Dolohov, his body will be dealt with accordingly, and as for Mr. Pettigrew, Miss Jameson, and Mr. Walker, you may leave him in the custody of Auror Runcorn," he barked in a hoarse voice as one of his colleagues behind him stepped towards the blonde werewolf and took the iron-length of chains from Wes's mate and began to lead Peter away, turning a deaf ear to the stout wizard's shrieks of protests and terrified chirping sounds that rang through the thick of the Forbidden Forest.
The group of Aurors did not speak as Auror Evergreen led the way, wielding his wand at the ready to fend off any who would impede their path back up to the castle. The sight of the towering parapets of Hogwarts seemed a welcome sight and seemed to take an eternity to reach.
Severus blew out a relieved breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding as Auror Evergreen led the way swiftly inside the castle. Tonks and Lupin were waiting by the double doors of the castle, their faces pale, and expressions collectively shocked to see Severus Snape's Healer in such a grave state, but Severus could not even summon enough strength on his throat to manage a greeting, his sole focus remained on ensuring his Healer got the medical attention that she desperately needed.
Auror Evergreen's strides were swift and strong, as Severus followed close behind with Dahlia limp in her arms. She'd not stirred once. Severus's eyes frantically searched the Hospital Wing until he found the capable geniuses that he desperately sought.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Severus bellowed hoarsely, urgency in his tone.
Madam Pomfrey looked up, startled upon hearing Severus Snape's voice, expecting to see the Potions Master himself wounded yet again. The expression on the young wizard's face was direr than if he were the one who had been poisoned. Then, the Head Matron of the Hospital Wing for another two and a half weeks lingered on the poisoned and bloodied form of Dahlia Hawthorne in Severus's arms.
"Merlin's Beard, Professor, that's Dahlia Hawthorne!" she cried worriedly, barely stopping her momentum as she motioned them towards the nearest waiting hospital bed.
"She was bitten by an Acromantula, mum," Wes piped up from behind Severus as the Potions Master carefully laid his healer onto the bed.
"The poison has already begun to spread through her system," Severus added urgently.
Madam Pomfrey could see the worry and fear on the man's hardened and lined face.
It was obvious that Dahlia Hawthorne was more to Severus Snape than just the man's Healer and future coworker once she officially retired in another week. Madame Pomfrey swallowed a lump in her throat as she began to examine the wound. She pressed around the outside of the puncture and peered closely with practiced eyes at the edges.
She darted towards a shelf and scuttled back over to Dahlia's side, carrying a dark bottle and a rag, wasting no time in pouring some clear liquid onto the cloth, and held it for a few seconds over Dahlia's mouth and nose. Her body shuddered violently once, as if in great pain, but she relaxed after a few seconds and fell back against the cot and seemed to be merely sleeping peacefully.
The Head Matron finished her inspection of Dahlia's medical needs, moved around the bed to face the witch's lover and her friends, and clamped Severus on the shoulder, giving the appendage a firm but reassuring squeeze. "By bringing her back to me so quickly, you may have just saved her life," she said approvingly.
Severus exhaled and appeared relieved for a moment, then he lifted his gaze and looked towards Poppy Pomfrey pleadingly.
"Save her life. Please." He implored in a soft voice that was barely above a whisper. Poppy could not even speak.
It was clear to her without Peeves spreading his slanderous gossip about the castle to any of the staff or other ghosts who would listen that their Potions Master was very much in love with this witch.
All Madam Pomfrey could do was nod her head and pray she would be able to pull the younger witch through this.
There was no time to lose. Madam Pomfrey turned from them, waved her wand, and grabbed the necessary instruments which had suddenly magically appeared at her elbow on a small rolling steel side table, and began to expertly cut an incision between Dahlia's ribs.
Severus gritted his teeth and steeled himself, planning to remain right by the woman's side throughout the surgery that would hopefully save her life.
But within moments, he, Wes Walker, Norah Jameson, Tonks, and Lupin were both nudged out of the way by Headmistress McGonagall and others who were hurrying to comply with Madam Pomfrey's demands as she called for aid.
Suddenly, there was barely room for them to stand flush against the wall. Severus could barely see Dahlia through the crowd of staff that was now gathered around her bedside.
"Please, dear," Headmistress McGonagall requested. "You will need to wait outside."
Severus bristled and frowned a silent warning at Minerva, though Remus was the one to move forward and grab his arm, beginning to summon a little of his repressed wolfish strength within himself to pull him from the Hospital Wing to allow them to work on her. Severus fought the werewolf the whole way.
"I need to stay with her!" he snarled, turning the worst of his wrath onto Remus Lupin.
Understanding his colleague's hostility, Remus did his best to calm Severus. "You need to allow them to work," Remus answered softly.
"I need her to know I'm here," Severus growled, his face twisting and contorting in pain.
"She knows." Lupin tried to comfort him.
Severus opened his mouth to protest, but it was Madam Pomfrey who angrily cut him off.
"I don't think the witch would want you to see her like this, Professor," she retorted sharply in a crisp and professional voice, her narrowed eyes piercing a hole in his chest. "And I haven't the time to argue with you. Out." She pointed angrily towards the door. "Right now. You may visit with her afterward."
A sickening cold wave of fear washed over him at her words. He did not think he could leave. Not like this. What if something happened? What if he was not by her side when she needed him? If this was to be the last time he would lay eyes on her, absolutely not. He could not leave, and damned Pomfrey to hell for attempting to try to make him, because he—
"Severus!" Remus had only been sharp with him once and Severus was jolted out of his thoughts as he numbly turned to look at him. "There is nothing you can do for Dahlia at this point. What we can all do is go outside and allow Madam Pomfrey to heal her, Snape."
His gaze flicked from the werewolf and then back to the Head Matron, before finally resting on Dahlia's limp and seemingly lifeless form on the bed. The indecision was eating at him. Severus very nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a delicate hand rest itself on his left shoulder. He barely turned to the side to eye Tonks out of the corner of his peripherals.
"Please, Severus." The witch nervously toyed with a lock of her bright bubblegum pink hair that he had secretly always found outlandish and offensive, a desperate cry for attention, though her voice was soft and subdued. "I—I understand what you're going through right now, I think we all do. Truly. But the best thing you can do for Dahlia if you love her is to leave this room right now and let them heal her."
With no way of watching over Dahlia and no one upon which to unleash his mounting anger, Severus turned away from Lupin and Tonks and let loose his fury on the battered castle wall. Clenching his fist and letting out a long and furious blood-yell, he slammed his knuckles over and over against the unmoving stones. His skin shredded against the rough masonry, but he felt no pain.
His mind was so focused on Dahlia and her ordeal.
The injury of his now likely broken knuckles was nothing compared to what she was going through now. When there was no more air left in his lungs to scream and no effort left in his muscles, he collapsed against the wall, exhausted, and afraid.
Slowly, Wes approached Severus. "She's in good hands, Professor," the werewolf nervously encouraged. "If anyone can see Dahlia through this, the Head Matron will."
Severus gritted his teeth and angrily turned to leave without acknowledging the young werewolf's words, but before anyone in the room could stop him, he strode towards the bed. He leaned over and whispered into the shell of her ear, low enough so that only she could hear him, he hoped, "I will be here when you wake."
Then he straightened his gait and slowly drew out of the Hospital Wing, wrenching violently away from Lupin when the man tried to take his arm and guide him out. Before Lupin closed the door behind him, he cast one final backward glance at Dahlia's bedside.
For a moment, time seemed to come to a halt. Nothing existed but his Healer and nothing else mattered. And yet it was time, he realized with a jolt, that she had to fight against. Alone. As the door clicked into place, Severus felt paralyzed, frozen in place.
His eardrums were filled with a horrible, fatigued ringing, leaving Lupin and Tonks's last words to him inaudible, that they recognized he needed time alone and Tonks was heading down the corridor to a deserted classroom where Auror Evergreen was holding Peter.
He nodded but heard none of it and did not see Lupin and Tonks head down the hallway.
The moment he was alone, he allowed the strength in his legs to dissipate, he slid down to the floor, using the wall as a brace for his back, utterly exhausted. As he sat there, numb, he wondered how it had all bloody come to this.
How it wasn't fair that another woman was likely apt to be ripped away from him. Dahlia did not deserve this. She should not have had to feel such pain on his behalf. The witch deserved a lifetime of peace and comfort after her hellish upbringing.
He did not know how long he sat in silence as the world carried on around him. Word came to him from Tonks half an hour after she left him alone in the corridor outside the Hospital Wing that Peter Pettigrew was being taken to a holding cell at the Ministry of Magic to be detained pending a trial, and that Dolores Umbridge had, as suspected she would have, gotten wind of the notification of Dahlia's violation against the Statute of Secrecy and was expected to be paying her a visit within the next day or two.
Severus nodded numbly as his mind processed the witch's news as Lupin's wife once more left him alone, sensing the wizard was not in the mood for conversation. He ran his hand over his drawn and worried face. He raised his red-rimmed and cracked eyes to the ceiling.
He had stopped imagining a future without Hawthorne by his side weeks ago and cringed to think of the dark chasm he was likely to spiral down into if something happened to her tonight to cause her to slip away from him. As the thought left his mind, Madam Pomfrey walked slowly through the doorway, and out into the cold, darkened corridor to find him. The Head Matron of the Hospital Wing was deliberate in her motions, and her tired, pale face showed the exhaustion that Poppy Pomfrey would not allow herself to feel for several hours.
Severus rose, unsteady on his feet and groping the wall for support. He was almost afraid to interpret Poppy's expression.
"Dahlia. How is she?" he asked, with fear shadowing his hopes and did not bother to quell back the note of concern in his quiet tone.
Madam Pomfrey looked at her, her eyes heavy. Taking a deep breath, the older witch delivered her news.
"She made it through the surgery," she reported, a wary smile finding her cheeks as she watched the man in front of her practically dissolving in relief. Severus looked as though he was of half a mind to embrace her for her efforts in saving his Healer's life but refrained himself. Poppy smiled, happy that she could bring good news. However, she was still cautious of declaring her replacement fully mended. "She is not out of the woods yet, dear," Madame Pomfrey tempered Severus's relief and happiness. "She has not yet awakened and there is still a risk of infection," she warned, her expression as grim as a grave. "Her injuries were very serious. Acromantula venom is no small feat to extract, Severus, as I'm sure you know. Her injuries will scar, of that, I cannot lie to you, and they are not pretty, but she will heal. She will take time to heal, and it is my highest recommendation that you do not allow her to be delved too much into anxiety while she recovers. I trust, however, that you will see to it as will I that she will receive the utmost best of care," she said warmly, smiling as Severus nodded. She blew out a deep breath and continued. "I understand that the Senior Undersecretary to Mr. Shacklebolt intends on visiting the young woman. Might I suggest Umbridge's arrival be delayed for a few days, Severus?" she asked, no semblance of warmth in her tone as an ugly look flitted across the Head Matron's eyes at the mention of Umbridge.
Severus's teeth gnashed together angrily at the thought of Umbridge tormenting Dahlia. He would not allow the woman anywhere near his Healer, not while she was recovering.
"I need to see her," Severus implored, his worry returning. He was relieved when the Head Matron nodded in understanding and motioned for Severus to enter inside the room.
Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Follow me, sir." She nodded and led Severus into the room.
She led Severus to a private alcove near the back of the Hospital Wing, close to her office. A large blanket had been hung from the low ceiling to allow separation from the rest of the beds, though thankfully, the Wing was not occupied as the students were not back yet.
The older witch held the curtain back and allowed Severus to enter first. Dahlia lay unconscious and motionless on a hard, uncomfortable-looking cot, covered with a grey blanket, her pale skin faded and ashen from loss of blood. Her breathing was weak and shallow. The witch appeared the perfect candidate for an Inferi corpse as she appeared more dead than alive. Severus perched himself on the edge of the mattress and clung to her hand.
He fought to retain his composure in front of the Head Matron, though as he raised his eyes to her face, his fingers tracing over the familiar lines of her cheeks, it was hard for him to as his mind filled with the memories of their time together they had shared, and visions of the life that he still hoped to enjoy with her.
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey stood at the foot of the low bed, giving the Potions Master the time that Severus needed.
Finally, he spoke, his voice a broken-sounding rasp. "When will she wake up?"
Madam Pomfrey awkwardly cleared her throat and wrung her hands together nervously.
"Well, dear, that's difficult to say. I've given her a Calming Draught and a Sleeping Draught, so I would expect her to be out for a while yet, and when she does wake, she will be calm enough."
"Her body has been through a great ordeal," she said slowly. "She has to heal. That will take time, dear, and…" She paused, hesitantly so.
"And?" Severus growled, turning slightly in the Head Matron's direction, yet not willing to tear his gaze from Dahlia's unresponsive form. He feared the reason Pomfrey hadn't finished.
Madam Pomfrey sighed and continued, clasping her hands in front of her middle.
"Well, Professor Snape, sir, there is always a chance of infection…" She cringed as the thought left her mouth. She sounded so cold and impersonal. She glanced sideways at Minerva for her help.
"She's strong, Severus," Professor McGonagall continued. She moved closer to Dahlia's bedside and rested her hand supportively on Severus's shoulder. "She has a reason to fight. You," she pointed out in a warbling voice as she reminded her teacher. "She's not going to give up."
Severus nodded slightly and returned his attentions to Dahlia. Madam Pomfrey and Headmistress McGonagall sensed that Severus wanted time alone with the witch he cared for and left the man to his own devices.
The older women were halfway down the hall heading towards the kitchens with the intentions of bringing their Potions Master a plate of food, not liking how peaky and sallow the man's complexion had become, that they did not notice the cloaked figure disappearing in through the doors of the Hospital Wing…