i wish i was clever enough to have thought of an anti-litigation charm. however, as is, i suppose you'll have to settle for some light whining, and a plea against. love to j.l. matthews, monkeys and bananas, oneturnouttatune, j, and michelle!

The Winged Serpents

Chapter Fifteen: Forgiving Explanations

***

Raven and Severus sat, openmouthed, staring at the spot where Dumbledore was sipping tea. For all that had happened, he could have been there to discuss plans for a murder-mystery dinner party. Although, Raven felt sure that if Dumbledore and Snape really knew what had happened, there just might be a murder, and it would be no mystery to any of the parties involved. Silently, she cursed herself for allowing things to progress so far, but was brought up short when Dumbledore spoke.

"Now, Raven, if you wouldn't mind telling me exactly what happened this evening?" His customary twinkle was still in place, surprisingly enough, although his tone was somber. Immediately, Raven knew that it would be useless to lie. He already knew, he just wanted clarification. Figures, she thought unhappily, that I would be the one who has to explain it all.

After clearing her throat a tad longer than necessary, she launched into it. Starting with the conversation that she and Dove had had with Draco, she worked her way through the process and plan, described the letter from Lucius in detail, and even managed to remember what cologne she had smelled on Malfoy upon arriving at his Manor. She described everything to the best of her ability and left nothing out, until she got to Avery.

"He was just sitting there. And then he looked up at me...and he looked so empty, so evil. He said, 'You're late,' and then..." She stopped, trying to process the information for herself before speaking, unwilling to get any of it wrong. She looked up at Dumbledore softly, trying to determine if this is really what he wanted to know...but the weary understanding in his face was all she needed to continue. She spoke roughly, haltingly, and refused to look at Snape's astonished features.

"He took my wand. One simple spell, and it was gone. I hadn't expected it, so I wasn't ready at all. Then...I don't even know half of the hexes and curses he threw at me. I recognized a few, the Bone-Cruncher Curse, the Slashing Spell, and the like. Oh, and Cruciatus, lots of that." She muttered it as an afterthought, even going so far as to add a bit of self-deprecating sarcasm in her voice, trying to distract the two men from what she'd actually said. But from the intake of breath, she knew it was useless. Luckily, neither of them spoke. "Anyway, after about an hour or so, maybe two...he just got bored, I guess. Never laid a finger on me either, now that I think of it. He started to cast the Killing Curse on me..." Another, sharper, intake of breath, so she continued on quickly. "But just as he got out the first half, the window exploded." Her eyes glazed over a bit as she tried to recall the details. "Somebody came flying in through the window on a broom, robes and cloak flying everywhere, hood up so I couldn't see who they were, and they just picked me up. Avery was so stunned, he didn't even move. Just watched as we flew back out the window. We flew so fast...I tried to figure out who the person was...anyway, I passed out eventually. Next thing I know, I'm cold and wet and nothing makes sense. Then I was here."

Dumbledore looked sorrowful, and Snape only looked stricken. Raven sat in the silence, relishing it, afraid that someone might speak and remind her that what she'd just said was real, had actually happened. But as she stared at the two men before her, she realized she couldn't handle the silence any longer. The weight of her assumptions was making it desperately hard for her to breathe. She felt the sudden urge to atone for sins, to repent, to confess. Anything to take away the guilt that was swallowing her alive.

"I'm sorry, Professors. I know we should have... Well, I'm not sure what we should have done. But, granted, that probably wasn't it."

"You're damn right that wasn't it! What were you thinking?! How could you two go- What were you thinking?! You were nearly killed! Of all the stupid, thoughtless, inconsiderate-"

"Severus." At Dumbledore's quiet word, Snape shut up. He was seething, red with fury, his very eyes blazed, burning into Raven's heart. She wanted to cry, to sob, to whimper and shake with sadness. But instead, she kept her face blank, staring at the red-hot anger that embodied her professor. Dumbledore turned to Raven and spoke, softly, but with a strength that compelled her to answer. "Raven. I understand why you did this. But was there no other way?"

She shook her head, dejected. "No, sir. There was no other way."

He nodded briefly and returned to his tea, a thoughtful expression dancing across his face.

"Insolent girl. Foolish, stupid, insolent girl. Of all the..." Snape began to mutter quietly again. He didn't seem to be talking to Raven anymore, only speaking for the sake of getting it all out. But suddenly, Raven was tired of it. What right does he have to judge me? she thought angrily. Like he's never done anything wrong in his life. Like his life isn't full of mistakes too. At least I was doing it to help someone!

"That! Is! Enough!" she bellowed. Snape froze, stunned at the intensity in her voice and words, and clearly taken aback at having been addressed in such a manner. "I am sick of this! Why are you being so gods-damn judgmental?!" Her breath came out heavily, her chest heaving. She waited, her eyebrows raised, looking for an answer. Any answer.

"You were going to sleep with him!" Hmm...not the answer she'd been expecting.

"That's what we do!"

"What are you talking about?!" Now he just seemed confused. Then, pieces began to click together in Raven's head. The comment about their mother, the slight hints of misunderstanding, What do you mean, you'll "always be whores"?

She looked to the Headmaster for confirmation. When she saw the quiet reproach on his face, she knew. It fit. "Oh gods. He doesn't know."

Snape looked back and forth between Raven and Albus. It occurred to him that Raven obviously thought he'd known something he simply did not know. It also occurred to him that he might not want to know what it was. But, for the sake of furthering his understanding, he asked anyway. "What is it? What don't I know? Albus?"

Albus simply looked at Raven, his eyes softening, the twinkle returning. "I did not see any reason to inform him, no."

"Oh gods." She looked from Albus to Snape and back again, a sick feeling entering her stomach. "I suppose we ought to tell him then."

"I suppose it would be best, my dear. But I'm afraid I have business elsewhere. So I'll leave you two to it then."

"WHAT? You mean, I have to tell him myself?!" Now the twinkle was definitely back, brighter then ever. Raven felt momentarily, in light of the circumstances, that she hated that twinkle. That twinkle was going to leave and make her explain to Snape about...everything. Bad twinkle.

"It is only your story to tell. You can make him understand." With a flick of his wrist, the Headmaster summoned a bit more tea for the two of them, and then turned towards the door. "I suggest that you take care of it as soon as possible. After that you should return to your room. I wouldn't mention it, as tomorrow is Saturday. But with your sleeping patterns, Miss Thomas... Well, it might not be in your best interest for the other students to see you exiting Professor Snape's private rooms just after lunch tomorrow. They might get...a funny impression."

"Hey, I don't sleep that late," she muttered. But he was already gone.

She turned to Snape, sitting expectantly, and sighed. Looking down, a sharp pang struck her in the stomach, and she suddenly felt a strange feeling. Something she hadn't felt for years, but which had hit Dove just hours before as well. Humiliation. Regret. Shame.

Sighing heavily, and wiping her hair from her face, she began. She kept her face impassive, but could not raise her eyes to meet his face, afraid of what she might see. Rejection, pity, rage, apathy, disgust. She'd seen it all before, and she had never really been bothered by it. But somehow she knew that if she saw any such thing on his face now, on the face of her Potions Professor, she would do very well to curl up and die.

When she'd finished, nearly an hour later, she cursed herself for not having the courage to look at him. She strained to hear him breathing, moving, shifting in his seat. Anything at all. Even if it was in anger, as long as she knew he had heard her clearly. She started to hear him clear his throat then, and settled herself in, preparing for the onslaught that was sure to come.

"I suppose we all make mistakes."

"Sir?" Raven looked up immediately, her eyes searching his face. Surely, I heard him wrong. But the exhausted understanding she saw written across his face blew her away.

"I said, I suppose we all make mistakes." He tightened his grip on the arms of the chair, and Raven was once more afraid of what he would say. "Raven, I have something I should tell you. It occurs to me that I cannot be angry with you for holding back the worst aspects of your past, when I have done just the same. It would be hypocritical of me now not to give you the same consideration you have just shown me." All of the air left Raven's lungs. Consideration? What's he talking about?

"Aren't you angry with me?"

"Angry? No. I was angry before, but not with you, though I must have given that impression. I was angry with the circumstances, the choices the Fates have made for you. I was angry for you, not with you. It is unfair that you should ever have been forced into such a situation. Believe me, I know." When she heard the pain in his voice, she understood, she knew what he was going to say. And it hurt her, in a way, that it hurt him to speak of it to her.

"Sir, you don't have to say anything."

"Yes, I do."

"No, really. You don't understand, I-"

"Please, Raven." At the sound of her own name on his lips, she stopped. She couldn't help but obey. She nodded her head and sat silently.

"Raven, when I was younger, I made some mistakes. I continue to make them to this day. I became confused, and in my search for understanding, I cursed myself forever. My life will never be whole again. Like you and Dove, I lost my father at an early age. My mother as well. I lived with uncles and aunts for years, until they could finally send me off here, to Hogwarts. A desperation to prove myself and ingrain myself into the lives of others led me to Slytherin, and I became immersed in the intrigue and drama of it all. I was accepted for my cunning and intelligence. When I was offered the chance to be a part of something greater, to be right there in the middle of everything, someone to be depended on and looked up to, I jumped at it. It wasn't until months later that I fully understood what I had gotten myself into."

Snape stopped, pausing to catch his breath and regain his confidence. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but it felt right. It dawned on him that he was probably just desperate to tell someone his dirty little secret, that he probably just couldn't bear the burden of it alone any longer. But in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't so. He closed his eyes and pulled up his sleeve, revealing to Raven the scar on his soul. Nobody had ever seen it before except other Death Eaters and Dumbledore himself. He was reluctant to know how she would react, but he felt she should know.

His eyes were still shut tight when he realized he hadn't heard any sharp breaths, any cursing or screaming, any telling thumps from a stunned body hitting the floor. In frustration, he snapped his eyes open and stared at the sight before him. A seventeen-year-old witch gazing at his arm without the slightest hint of fear, anger, or hatred. Any of these things he was sure he could have handled. But her complete lack of response was beyond his comprehension.

"Raven I was...am a Death Eater." He spoke as if to a small child, trying to point out to her the significance of his words, his gesture. She only shrugged.

"No, you aren't. You were, but not anymore. Now you're a spy. There's a difference." Snape's eyes bulged at her directness. Any other man would have spluttered and whined his "don't-you-get-it"s.

"Perhaps you aren't hearing me. I used to brew potions for Voldemort, potions used to torture innocent people. I used to be one of them." He emphasized each word separately, as if it would help her to understand.

"Yeah, and we used to fuck guys for money. Big deal. We're different people now. Well, you are anyway. Apparently, we just aren't getting money anymore." She snorted at her own mad sense of humor and looked at him.

Snape made no movement, no sound. Logic failed him. Who is this girl...no, this woman who just side-steps my past? She can't possibly understand the indignity, the humiliation, the anger, the hatred... then he paused. And it dawned on him that she could understand, albeit not precisely as he did. Raven watched the confusion dancing across his face and decided to make something clear.

"Uhm...'Fess, surely you know by now that I have seen the Dark Mark all along." He had eased slightly at the informal address, but he bristled right back up when she mentioned the Dark Mark again. "Sir, I can see your soul...it never occurred to you that something like this might have left its mark anywhere other than on your arm? I saw it the first day I met you. Of course, I didn't understand exactly what it was at the time, but it was there. And when I did find out...well, I admit I was a bit shocked. But I wasn't angry with you, or disappointed in you, or anything of the sort. It isn't my place, in all of my own sinful glory, to judge anyone else. Besides, you aren't that man anymore, and I know that for a fact, because I can see it on you. It could be that when you first got that mark, it meant something to you, but it would have showed. It would have burned brightly all across your Fabric. It-It's faded over the years. I can barely even see it now. It's like...if you got a nasty cut on your arm, it would look really horrible and very obvious at first. But it would start to heal and fade. And yes, there would always be a little remnant of it on you, but you'd have to really look to see it. And then it would only be a mark of healing rather than the wound it had begun as. See?"

And with that last word, she pulled the fabric slightly away from her neck, down and down, until finally the skin just above her breasts was showing. At first, Snape saw nothing. But she traced around her skin lightly with her fingers, and as he followed them, he noticed slight markings he'd been unaware of before. Small scars and marks began to appear all over. Severus saw them on her arms, her neck, her shoulders, even her face. They were everywhere. Jagged, thin, brutal-looking, marks of every sort. But they were barely there. He had to strain to find them. The only way he could make them out was the slightly shiny note they seemed to give off in the firelight. And he felt himself slowly easing into her simple acceptance.

"But I thought that your sister healed you."

"Of course she did, as best she could. But remember, she can only heal innocent wounds. I earned these." She smiled mischievously, and Snape found his own lips turning up slightly at the sides. Slightly.

"But you hide them beneath your clothes. Because you're ashamed of them." He was digging now, ruthlessly trying to reassure himself that she was right. Hoping beyond anything that she would have a good answer. Wishing he could just let it sink into him instead of fighting it off and pretending he believed it couldn't happen.

"Oh no, not usually. But Malfoy probably wouldn't have appreciated damaged goods. So I was a bit more careful tonight than usual. Strategic Placement of Silky Garments...works wonders. Draws attention away from certain places, and directly towards others. Quite flattering, really." Snape's eyebrows lifted slightly. She was right. He was sure he must have seen one or two marks before, they'd just never registered. He'd always written them off to her hasty hallway duels. So everything she said was true. It fit, it worked.

A moment of complete silence whispered between the two, pausing briefly to pass shadows of understanding. Neither spoke and neither wanted to. They both reveled in the acceptance of one another.

A moment later, the mood was broken. Dove shifted in her sleep, snoring loudly and turning about. She finally rested with her head lying sideways on the pillow and her legs half off the bed. The blankets were wrapped around her tightly, and her nightgown gave off a soft hue. She began to mumble something aloud, and both Raven and Snape got up to move towards her, straining to hear her speak.

"Those things get up to nine feet long," she mumbled near-incoherently, "So if we were standing nine feet apart, that's how long it would be..."

Severus and Raven looked at each other for a moment, strange looks painted across their faces, and Raven mouthed "what the fuck?" to her Potions professor as he stared on in disbelief. Whether at the situation, or Dove's mumblings, or Raven's easy use of profanity in his presence, he didn't know. But a second later, Raven was rolling on the floor laughing, and Snape was struggling to regain his composure. Raven delighted in the sounds of Snape's laughter, and he in hers, but neither mentioned it.

Finally, they both collected themselves, and Raven shoved Dove awake. With one arm around each other, the two girls sleepily thanked their professor and staggered up to their room. Falling into bed, they fell asleep to the delightful visions of Snape's bedroom and its sole occupant.

***

Saturday morning, the girls were still sleeping. Saturday afternoon...still sleeping. Saturday evening...still sleeping. Finally, just before dinner, Drew was rampaging into their room, shouting at the top of his lungs, belting out lyrics from no less than three different Broadway musicals. Dove flinched in her sleep and turned over, burying herself into the bed. But he pounced immediately and pulled off the covers, leaving her shivering and brassed off. Next was Raven, who managed to kick him once as she fell off the bed, yelling almighty curses in the names of any god who sprang to mind. Drew only grinned and chuckled.

Disgruntled, the girls fumbled into some clothes and followed him into the common room. He murmured a quick cleaning spell and then a de-wrinkling charm for the both of them as they entered, and they both sighed their "thank-you"s.

"Don't mention it," he remarked, pulling them along towards the hallways. "I love disturbing your beauty sleep. Favorite pastime of mine."

"Ha. Ha," muttered Dove with little mirth. Raven smiled ferally at her sister's exhausted sarcasm, and allowed his attempted conversation.

"So where were you two last night?" he queried. Dove shut her eyes and tried to think a quick excuse through to Raven, but she'd already been blocked off. She opened her eyes in annoyance and shot a glare at the dark-haired girl, who was already spitting out an answer.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Having sex, and lots of it." Raven dosed the phrase with a good bit of sarcasm and watched for his reaction. He only smiled and shook his head, apparently oblivious to her tricks.

"Aw, sex again?" he mumbled in mock annoyance. "Jesus." Raven's eyes brightened, and she shot forward with some mutterings of complete nonsense, to the amusement of her companions.

"That's it! His name was Jesus! Because I went in there and I was like 'Christ!' and he's like 'What?' Thank the gods you cleared that up for us, me and Dove have been trying to remember the guy's name all night!" Raven spouted, dripping with humor and affection. Dove rolled her eyes, sighing in relief at Drew's easy overlook.

"Dove and I," he corrected and lightly thumped her on the arm. The three of them marched into the Great Hall and sat at the Hufflepuff table across from their friends. Chris and Kello were muttering about a third year Hufflepuff named Luba, and Alex was just sitting silently, listening to their strange conversation. He looked up as the three Slyths sat down, his expression somewhat clouded, but immediately brightened again at the idea of rational conversation.

"Please talk to me about something logical, rational, real. This whole Luba Thing is killing me," he pleaded.

"Well, we were just discussing the sexual tendencies of Jesus Christ, care to give us your take on the subject?" Drew remarked. Alex's face darkened in annoyance. Unfortunately for him, Chris had heard the last bit and immediately zoned in for some Crazy Talk.

"Jesus? Jesus the Duck? I thought he was in Mexico?" he said loudly. Dove rolled her eyes at the reference. Their second year, they had been Transfiguring ducks into picture frames, only Chris' frame had come out all wrong, looking more like a crucifix than anything else. He'd joked about it being a sign that the duck was blessed, and had christened the feathered saint Jesus the Duck. Such things happened with Chris Tofer.

"Now why would Jesus the Duck be in Mexico?" Raven egged on.

"All perfect things go to Mexico," Chris said, shrugging his shoulders with a look that declared Raven's obvious ignorance of religious protocol.

Drew and Raven laughed heartily, while Alex and Dove only looked on with half-bemused faces. Finally, Dove changed the subject. "So what were you talking about before we got here? Some Looby Thing?"

"Luba," Kello corrected. "She's a Hufflepuff Chris ran into about a week ago. She's really quiet and pretty, and Chris thinks it's hilarious, so he started sending her notes. But when she didn't respond, he decided to respond for her and sent himself a few notes 'from Luba'. He reads them out loud when she's around. She gets all red in the face, it's cute. Poor Luba." Kello smiled affectionately as she talked, pointing to a small brown-haired girl a few seats down from them.

"Anyway, Luba just wrote another note, but I don't think I was meant to find it," Chris said in a very loud voice, "Want to hear what it says?" Three Slytherins and one Ravenclaw, as well as a number of Hufflepuffs who'd obviously heard of the little joke, all shook their heads enthusiastically. Chris snatched up a small scrap of parchment that had been lying in front of him, obviously written in his own deranged scrawl, and began to read it out loud in his version of Luba's cute, girly voice.

"My name is Luba and I love Chris Tofer. He is so hot. I'm just too scared to tell him about my burning love for him. Love, Luba (Can't spell my last name.)" When he'd finished, Luba was suitably red-faced, but smiling at the affectionate attention, and everyone was laughing good-naturedly. Chris got up and walked the note over, "returning" it to her, before sitting down again. The group had only just begun to settle down when Headmaster Dumbledore stood to make his announcements. He made a startlingly amusing reference to "love notes at supper", which sent the Hufflepuff table into hysterics, and finally waved his hands spectacularly to summon the food up.

The crew settled down for food, talking about the next two Quidditch games. Dove and Raven would be playing Beaters to Alex's Keeper this week, and then Chris would go up against Alex the week after. Egotism blossomed and joked about itself for the rest of the meal, Jesus the Duck was left in Mexico, and Luba was grateful to eat in quiet.

***

"Do they know what happened? Have they mentioned anything?"

"Not to me, no. But give them time, they'll spill."

"I still can't believe they let themselves do something like that. And with-"

"Just leave it alone. You act like this and you'll know why they didn't say anything before."

"Unbelievable."

"Look, if worse comes to worst, they'll think it was you who saved them. It makes the most sense."

"What about you?"

"Forget about me."

"You know I can't do that."

"Yeah, I know."

A pause infiltrated the secretive conversation. A sly look crept onto both of their faces. Finally, the silence was broken, with a bit more purr in the voice this time.

"So."

"So."

"It seems we're all by ourselves. Nobody else around. Totally secluded. Completely alone."

"Indeed it does. Any ideas what we might do together?"

"I'm getting one."

***

That week, Slytherin had gone up against Ravenclaw on the Quidditch pitch, a fairly decent game, but too close for comfort. In the end, Slytherin barely pulled ahead. Alex was not very happy. He wandered around, scowling and grumbling under his breath, so the twins decided against inviting him to their victory party. With sly smiles, they sauntered into the common room amidst cheers and happy yells. The team was bombarded with offers of pumpkin juice and butterbeer, while chocolate frogs, spiced cakes, sugar quills and more littered the tables. The entire house of Slytherin went crazy for victories.

But down in the dungeons, Severus Snape was not celebrating their minor glory. He was standing by the fireplace in his office, holding the silk-encased knife in his slender hands, debating whether or not to go along with Lucius' little game. He stood there for hours, and that was how the girls found him. They came bearing a few bottles of butterbeer and some leftover snack-cakes. It had occurred to them that Snape did not often engage himself in such frivolous activities, and they felt it was about time he did. At the least, they would try to engage him in some sort of conversation entirely unrelated to school.

Dragging themselves away from the mirth of their common room, they had wandered down towards the dungeons. When they'd found the classroom empty, they had faltered slightly. If he wasn't in his office, they'd be at somewhat of a loss. That would mean that he was either out scouring the castle for lawless Gryffindors, or he was in his rooms. They didn't really have a problem with either, except that they were too lazy to go scouring the castle after him, and they didn't know how to get into his rooms. Mumbling to whatever deity presided over such circumstances, they knocked on his office door.

They were grateful, then, to see light streaming out from underneath. No answer came, but it made no difference to the girls. Deep down, they were really quite rude. Without bothering to announce themselves any further, they simply walked inside. When they saw Snape standing by the fireplace, they made themselves comfortable in the chairs before his desk, popped open a couple of butterbeers, and launched into a tangent. They studiously ignored the shocked reservation and pointed glares he threw at them in sequence.

They jabbered on and about, laughing merrily, as he straightened himself out. He gripped the knife around the silk-harnessed handle and walked towards his desk. He calmly walked around the other side, facing them, and placed his empty palm on the table. The other, he raised above his head, his eyes still on the girls, daring them to notice his actions. When no such acknowledgement came, he sighed. And then brought his upraised arm down at his desk, slamming the knife into the thick, hardy wood. The knife plunged easily in, sinking down until desk met hilt. At this, the girls finally looked up, eyes wide open in disbelief.

"If you don't mind," he growled, "What are you two doing in my office?"

Both girls immediately brightened, shoving bottles and cakes onto his desk, towards him, and murmuring about the party they'd left.

"...Anyways, we thought we'd save you some. How about it?" Dove finished. Snape stared at them both, bewildered. Before, only Dumbledore had ever bumbled on speaking so easily, so carefree, shoving sweets at him regardless of his demeanor. It was strangely unsettling to see these two start to pick up on such habits. But, unbearably aware that they would probably completely disregard any answers to the negative (after all, Albus did it all the time), he sighed and sat down.

"Alright then." Both girls bounced in their seats merrily and fought over what he should have first, finally managing to hand him a beverage and a Kitty Snack that actually meowed.

"Aren't you going to fix that, 'Fess?" Raven asked easily, crumbs stumbling from her mouth. Dove elbowed her in the stomach and gestured for her to wipe her face.

Snape blinked momentarily, fighting to keep the confusion from his face. Fix what? Then his eyes fixed on the blade stuck into his desk. Oh, yes. That. He reached forward and pulled the knife out swiftly, setting it on the edge of the desk, careful to keep the silk folded over it. To his surprise, Dove pulled out her wand, pointed it at the table, and muttered "Reparo." He smiled lightly and shook his head.

"It won't work. The cuts that knife makes cannot be repaired," he explained. Dove and Raven both looked at him with curiosity, but neither tried to speak around their mouthfuls of food. Both stared without reservation at the seemingly unmoved mark in the desk. Chewing quickly and swallowing haphazardly a minute later, they both blurted out a few random thoughts.

"Can't be repaired? What kind of knife is it? Can I see it? Where'd you get it? What's it for?" and so on. Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance, but said nothing. When the girls refused to remove their eyes from him, however, he gave in slightly and sighed.

"The knife is one of three. Each has two edges. One edge can cut through anything tangible. The other can cut through one element of the intangible." He continued on a bit, describing in detail the subtle knife, as much as he could recall, and even gave them a bit of history about the humble knife and the beginnings of the time-turner. But when they questioned him about the futile knife, which he bore, he paused. He didn't know why, but he couldn't seem to find the words to explain it to them.

"It doesn't concern you," was all he said.

"Doesn't it though?" replied Dove quietly.

At this, he started slightly. Then, he relaxed. "I suppose it does, at that. Lucius Malfoy has offered to relinquish one of you to me in exchange for this knife."

Dove and Raven both looked up at him, astonished. In a moment, Raven had recovered her wits, and pressed on to lighten the mood.

"Give up one of us for that? What exactly can it do anyway?" She smiled lightly and Dove giggled absently. Snape only sneered lightly at them both and looked down.

"Well, you don't have to, you know. We aren't your responsibility. I mean, we are, but...well, this is our own situation." Snape glanced up as Dove spoke, surprised at the easy conviction in her voice.

"No. It is my responsibility. You are my responsibility. And I must do what I can. I will give him the knife, but..." He paused. Until that moment, he'd been unsure of what to do. But Dove's simple acceptance of her own dire situation had pushed him over the edge. He had to get one of them out of Malfoy's clutches, regardless of the consequences. He could always get the knife back later. But...

"But you don't know which one of us to trade, right?" Raven asked casually. She shrugged at Snape's raised eyebrow, and snorted lightly. "No worries, leave that to us." The two girls looked at each other, their eyes scathing with intensity, and suddenly Severus realized what was happening. "I thought to her." The words rang in his head and his eyes grew suddenly wide.

"You're telepaths."

"Pardon?" Dove had been distracted from their little staring match and blinked at her professor.

"You two...you're telepaths."

"Well...not really, no. We can't read any minds but each other's. So, not telepathy, really. Just a...quirk." Snape's lips turned up slightly at Dove's explanation, but he said nothing else. "Well, anyway, I think we've decided that I should go. He seemed to like me best anyway. Shall I just drop off the knife then?"

Once again, Snape was stunned by the casual attitude the two seemed to take. It was only through years of careful precision of reaction that he kept his face blank. For a moment, he considered that perhaps it wasn't bravery at all, but a lack of understanding. Perhaps they don't realize the exact extent of the danger they're in. But it didn't seem the case to him. They've just put up with so much then...they're jaded. He sighed, emotions weighing down upon him, but he pushed them away into the furthest recesses of his mind, and forced himself to focus again.

"Yes, perhaps that would be best," he conceded. There was less of a chance that Malfoy would harm his new "acquisition" with his newer "toy". Severus didn't particularly fancy his chances in a room with Malfoy in possession of a knife with the ability to cut through anything.

"Right then, where's the floo powder? Might as well get it over with." Dove raised her eyebrows in parody of Snape's own expression, causing him to sneer.

Raven raised her head to Dove, as if in protest, but said nothing. By the look on her face, Snape assumed that she'd prefer to be the one going herself, if only to keep her sister out of danger. But she kept to herself as Snape murmured a few incantations, lighting a fire and summoning a small tin. He opened the tin to reveal the familiar greenish powder, as Dove reached for the knife in front of him.

"You won't be able to enter the manor directly, as he's long had it disconnected from the network. But you can get as close as the Gleaming Goblet. It's a small pub in Dowerylock, just a couple of miles away. I assume you can manage the rest of the way yourself?"

Dove nodded slightly, toying with the silk around the knife. Poking out just above the silk was a hint of the carved handle. Gazing at it, she thought she recognized wings. Curious, she peeled the silk away softly to see the rest of the picture. Before Snape had time to notice and warn her against it, she had wrapped her hand around the bare carved wood, to turn it over in her hands. But as soon as the thin layer of silk was gone, she froze. Her hand began to tingle with sensation, and she became suddenly dizzy with visions. Strange shadows flitted before her, and still she could not move.

Misreading her sister's anxiety, and eager to take the burden herself, Raven jumped up and walked over to her sister. "Oh, really, Dove. If you're going to be so daft about it...I'll do it myself!" Grabbing the knife from her sister's clenched fist, and reaching for some powder from the tin that her now-stunned professor held out, she threw some into the fireplace and enunciated "The Gleaming Goblet!" Stepping through before they could protest, she concentrated on forming her wings as she flew through the grate. As soon as she landed in the dusty pub, she raced out the front door and took off towards the large manor in the distance.

Back in Professor Snape's office, Dove had finally recovered herself, and was staring at her hands. Burnt into her right palm, the hand she'd held the knife with, was a large circle with lines threading out from it: a figure of the sun. In her left hand was the silk, which meant that Raven was holding the knife bare-handed as well. Yet she didn't seem to have been affected as Dove had. Still staring, Dove walked towards Snape, who was sitting, slightly bewildered, and glaring at the fireplace. When they'd finally sorted out exactly what had happened, they both spoke.

 "Bloody hell."

***