Minerva McGonagall stretched and yawned as she waited for Dumbledore to finish pouring her a cup of tea. She took the steaming mug gratefully and inhaled the scented steam. Dumbledore finished adding sugar to his own mug then gestured, the tea tray disappearing without a sound.

"It's going to be an interesting year," McGonagall said. "I have this feeling. It won't be a quiet one, that's for certain."

"Have you been speaking with Sibyll lately, Minerva?" Dumbledore hid a smile behind his teacup as she glared at him. "Actually, I'm inclined to agree with you. If there's one thing I've found, it's that nothing stays quiet for very long and the longer it does remain so the greater the magnitude of the approaching event. There's been such a lull in the past year that what's coming should be rather exciting, don't you think?"

"If you consider trolls in the castle, the return of a Dark Lord and Weasleys on the premises to be 'exciting,' then yes, I suppose it will," McGonagall snipped. "What a shame that most people don't share your particular idea of fun."

"You must learn to live a little, Minerva," Dumbledore said, unruffled by her sarcasm. "Life cannot always be boring, and since it there isn't anything you can do to prevent it, you may as well take some enjoyment out of its little peculiarities."

"Any other pearls of wisdom you'd care to share?" McGonagall asked dryly, sipping her tea. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he opened his mouth, but they were spared his response by a knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Excuse me, Albus, I hope you're not busy," a tiny voice squeaked. Professor Flitwick entered and shut the door behind him. "If you've just got a moment, I'd like to speak with you."

"Certainly, Filius," Dumbledore said as he stood, his teacup swallowed up by the air. "What is it you need?"

"I think we're having some trouble down in the Charms classroom. It may just be Peeves again, but I'm not sure. Some of the students seem to think the desks are possessed."

"Well, let's go down and have a look, shall we? Excuse me, Minerva."

McGonagall just waved him away. "I'm more than content to wait here," she said. "Take your time. I'm not starved for company." The door closed behind the two.

She had just picked up a book beside Dumbledore's desk and was preparing to read when, not five minutes after Dumbledore and Flitwick departed, someone knocked on the door. "Yes?"

The door opened, revealing a rather haggard Severus Snape. "Where's Dumbledore?" he croaked hoarsely.

"He went with Filius to see about some problem in one of the classrooms. What is it that you need?"

"I need to speak with Dumbledore. Now." Snape lurched and nearly fell into the desk. McGonagall rose swiftly, her hand out to stop him.

"I think you'd better sit down, Severus."

Snape shook his head. "I need to find him. You don't understand, it can't wait."

"You're not well-"

"I'd rather noticed," Snape interrupted harshly. "Where is he?"

"I'm not certain where he went. Why don't you just sit down, Severus, wait for him here? He won't be gone long-" She reached out to steady him.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, jerking back from her hand. Suddenly his wand was out and level with her head. "Don't come near me! I swear to God if you touch me again, if you try to do anything like that to me again I'll kill you!"

"Severus, what are you talking about?" McGonagall felt a trace of fear as she stared down the length of Snape's wand. His eyes were wild, the pupils dilated in what McGonagall could only guess was sheer terror. What frightened her the most, however, was the utter lack of seeing in the Potions Master's eyes. It was as if he were in another room, another world, seeing something other than what was real in which nothing could get through to him.

"Severus, it's me! I'm not trying to hurt you."

Snape laughed, a chilling sound. "Don't lie to me," he snarled. "I'm through with your lies. I know what you've been planning this entire time, but it's too late. It's too late, Emily, you can't get rid of me now. Not if I get rid of you first." He brandished the wand.

"Severus Snape! What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?"

Both Snape and McGonagall spun around as Dumbledore's voice thundered through the room. He stood in the doorway, blue eyes flashing with a dangerous light that few teachers and fewer students had ever seen in the normally jovial Headmaster. Now Dumbledore drew himself up to full height, exuding the presence of a man twice his size and then some. Immediately, Snape froze, his hand still hovering in mid-air.

"You-" Snape's jaw worked, but no words came. He looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall, then to the wand still clenched in his fist. "I-" The mad light slowly faded from his eyes and he blinked slowly, still staring. Suddenly, he dropped the wand a crumpled to his knees there on the floor in the middle of Dumbledore's office.

"Don't go near him, Minerva," Dumbledore said quickly as McGonagall stepped towards the crumpled Potions Master. "I don't want whatever it was that set him off to happen again." He knelt beside Snape. "Talk to me, Severus. What's going on?" Silence. Dumbledore looked up at McGonagall, questions lurking behind his blue eyes.

"He came in here looking for you," she said quietly. "Said he had to find you, it couldn't wait. He wasn't looking at all well and the he stumbled. I reached out to catch him and, well," she gestured at Snape's huddled form. "You know the rest."

Dumbledore nodded grimly. He reached out slowly and placed a tentative hand on Snape's shoulder. He felt the Potions Master shudder at his touch but he did not pull away. "Can you hear me, Severus?" Still nothing. Frowning, Dumbledore rose and mouthed the word Poppy at McGonagall. She nodded and took herself out in search for the Mediwitch. They seemed to be gone a long time, by Dumbledore's account. When she finally did arrive, Pomfrey took one look at Snape and immediately began snapping out orders.
"Albus, call someone to get him down to the Hospital Wing immediately. Minerva, come with me, I'll need your help. Dumbledore! Well, I don't know, get Hagrid if you have to. I told you before not to send him back in, but you didn't listen. Now look at him! Oh, now isn't the time for this, but you and me are going to have to have a long talk about all this nonsense when we're done. Hagrid!" She grabbed the huge man by the sleeve of his moleskin coat as he appeared in the doorway and pointed at Snape. "Don't just stand there dawdling, get him down to the Hospital Wing."

Obviously startled and more than a little confused, Hagrid evidently decided it would be easier just to obey without question and scooped up the limp body of the catatonic Potions Master and headed for the door. McGonagall saw how thin and frail he looked in Hagrid's giant grip and averted her eyes as they all filed behind Hagrid.

Once they arrived at the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey instructed the big man to lay Snape down on one of the beds. She continued to call out orders brusquely as she washed her hands in the sink.

"Minerva, could you hand me that bottle there, the green one? Good, set it down beside that jar of salve. I told you, Albus. I told you. Hagrid, could you be a dear and just nip off outside? The rooms too small and you're just too big. Thanks luv. You!" She pointed to a startled black haired girl who had poked her head timidly around the door. "Get me some water and cold towels. Hurry!"

By this time, Snape had closed his eyes and curled tightly into a ball. Pomfrey glared at Dumbledore. "Out," she ordered. "Too many people. I'll call you when I need you. No, not you, Minerva. I need you here with me. You too, dear." The last was to the dark haired girl who had returned with a basin full of cold water and a stack of clean towels. Pomfrey took one and laid it across Snape's forehead. "Now, Minerva, tell me what happened."

McGonagall never took her eyes off Snape's unmoving form as she recited the events that had happened not half an hour before. When she finished, Pomfrey had gathered up a rather large pile of bottles and jars and lined them all up on a small table beside the bed. "What's wrong with him, Poppy? How could I have set him off like that?"

"Couldn't have been helped," the Mediwitch said crisply as she bustled beside the bed. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, but my guess is he came looking for Dumbledore and got himself caught up in a memory." She looked hard at Minerva. "Did he say anything that struck you as particularly strange?"

"What, other than screaming that I was trying to kill him and he was going to kill me first?" McGonagall asked sardonically.

"Aside from the usual suspects, yes."

"He called me Emily," she remembered suddenly. "He said he was sick of me lying to him, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. And he called me Emily." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the student who Pomfrey had ordered to stay, her hand clapped over her mouth. But there was no time to wonder about that now. "Does any of this make sense to you?"

"Mhm, like I thought. He got himself trapped in a memory so deep he couldn't tell his world from reality." Pomfrey looked up, her eyes dark. "He honestly thought you were trying to kill him."

"But why? What would have brought that- memory- back? And why so strong?"

"That's what I'm not sure about," Pomfrey said grimly as she mixed two bottles into a goblet. "I think that's why he came up to see Dumbledore, though. For advice. Oh, I swear I could kill that man-"

"Let's concentrate on the here and now, if you don't mind," McGonagall said. Snape was no longer curled up in a ball, instead he was limp and startlingly pale, even against the white sheets. "Why this?"

"When Dumbledore startled you both, the memory- disappeared. But it didn't fade away like it was supposed to. The backlash must have hit him hard, as well as the knowledge of what he was doing when he came back to reality." Her lips thinned as she carefully poured the potion into Snape's half-open mouth. "The only way to bring him back is to shock him out of the backlash. If I can just get his mind working again-"

With a huge, sudden gasp, Snape's entire body convulsed. Pomfrey threw herself over his chest, pinning him down to the bed as he shook. A scream so filled with despair that McGonagall almost clapped her hands over her ears filled the room and she saw the girl by the door do the same. She looked at Snape, but it was Pomfrey's face that caught her eye. The Mediwitch's expression was that of pure murder, and McGonagall had little doubt that if anyone crossed her at that moment Voldemort himself wouldn't survive what she would do in her rage.

"Keep him down!" Pomfrey shouted. McGonagall and the girl rushed over to help hold the thrashing Potions Master down on the bed. "Name of Merlin, if this is what he's like when he's cataleptic, I can't even imagine what it must be like for him awake. Hold him!"

Snape's violent seizures peaked suddenly, then ceased altogether. Trembling with reaction, McGonagall released her grip and stood back, breathing hard. The student who had been conscripted by Pomfrey did likewise, her brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. McGonagall gestured the girl over to her side where they both watched the Mediwitch's ministrations.

"Don't want to do it," she muttered as she busied herself amongst her bottles. "But I can't have him going off again like that. It'll buy me some time to think, at least." Her hands flew as she poured various bottles into a large goblet. "Asphodel and wormwood. I hoped I'd never have to use this stuff again." She sighed. "No help for it now." She tipped the contents of the goblet into Snape's mouth and slumped back, her eyes closed. "He won't be waking any time soon."

"Poppy." McGonagall's voice was sharp. "Did I hear you correctly? Asphodel and-?"

"Wormwood." Pomfrey nodded. "What I just gave that man was the Draught of Living Death."

McGonagall looked as if she were going to protest, but she said merely, "Whatever you think is best. Should I go fetch Albus?"

Pomfrey sighed. "Yes, I suppose you had better. Although I'm going to need to have a talk with that man sooner or later." McGonagall swept out and returned with Dumbledore within moments.

"I've got him stable," Pomfrey told him as he gazed upon the limp body. "I gave him the Draught, so he'll be out cold for another two hours or so. He was trapped in a memory, and you managed to shock him out of it."

Dumbledore nodded. "Were you able to find out why?" When Pomfrey shook her head, he nodded again, tapping his foot. "Miss Johnson," he said with a nod to the girl beside the bed who nodded back awkwardly. McGonagall recognized her as the new fifth year student.

"Would you be so kind as to remain here with Professor Snape?" he asked her. "I believe Madam Pomfrey wishes to speak with me in private, and McGonagall had best be getting back to her office in case she is needed."

"Yessir," the girl said, eyeing Snape's prone form. "I'll come get you when he wakes up."

"Good girl. Well, Poppy? Shall we?" Dumbledore gestured to the doorway. Pomfrey glared at him as she passed and he followed her out the door to her private offices. McGonagall glanced at the girl before she left.
"You're certain you'll be alright here alone, Miss Johnson?" she asked. The girl nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of a chair by the wall. McGonagall took one last worried glance at Snape before she too left the room.

When she had come up to the Hospital Wing for a bit of burn salve, Lydia Johnson wasn't expecting to find the entire Hogwarts staff rushing around the crowded room. Well, not exactly all the staff, but it had certainly seemed that way at the time.

She'd burned her finger quite badly during Herbology when she'd accidentally stepped on the tail of a SnapDragon and Professor Sprout had sent her up for some salve. "Chaos" was a good word to describe the scene she found when she set foot in the Hospital Wing. "Complete and utter pandemonium" were a few more.

"Oof!" Lydia dodged around another fleeing student who had gotten caught in the mess only to run smack into something large and solid. "Sorry, Hagrid! What's going on here, anyway?"

Rubeus Hagrid looked down at her, his usually friendly whiskered face troubled and grim. "Snape," he told her. "Had some sorta fit. Pomfrey's seein' t' 'im right now, and she ain't 'appy, I'll tell ya. Best wait afore goin' in t' see 'er."

Lydia frowned. What could be wrong that it was cause for so many people to be crammed into the Hospital Wing? And what could make Hagrid look so- grim? "Is it serious?"

"We don't know yet," Hagrid said. "Pomfrey ain't tellin'." He frowned and shook his head, muttering to himself. "I'm goin' back to me hut, can't do any good 'ere."

Lydia watched him leave, then risked poking her head inside the hospital proper. If she thought the waiting room was chaotic, that was nothing to what was going on inside.

"You!"

Lydia jumped as the Mediwitch Pomfrey pointed and shouted at her. "Get me some water and cold towels. Hurry!"

Something in the Mediwitch's voice told her this was not the time to ask questions. Without a moments hesitation, Lydia turned and rushed to the nearest bathroom where she found a large stack of clean towels and a basin that she could fill with water. When she returned, she almost ran into Headmaster Dumbledore on his way out. Pomfrey beckoned her in and took both items. "Minerva, I need you here with me. You too, dear," she said with a look at Lydia. Not knowing what else to do, she backed off towards the wall and watched.
"What's wrong with him, Poppy? How could I have set him off like that?"

"Couldn't have been helped. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but my guess is he came looking for Dumbledore and got himself caught up in a memory. Did he say anything that struck you as particularly strange?"

"What, other than screaming that I was trying to kill him and he was going to kill me first?"

"Aside from the usual suspects, yes."

"He called me Emily."

Lydia felt a sick twist in the pit of her stomach as McGonagall spoke.

"He said he was sick of me lying to him, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. And he called me Emily."

Emily. Lydia's hands flew up to her mouth. There was a name she hadn't heard in years, and hadn't ever wanted to hear again. Emily, her mother's sister, her aunt. The only one in her family ever to become a Death Eater.

Coincidence, she told herself firmly as Pomfrey and McGonagall continued to talk. There was no last name, it could have been anyone. You don't even know this Snape, other than in class. It's just a coincidence.

Her thoughts were cut off just then as Snape suddenly arched and began thrashing, his body stiff and bent. He howled in a voice so full of unworldly despair that it sent shivers of something unnamable down her spine. She clamped her hands over her ears, but it was futile; the sound cut through her very being. Pomfrey was shouting something, but she couldn't hear what. By the look of things, however, Lydia thought she might be telling them both to help her hold Snape down. She rushed over with McGonagall and grabbed his wrists, trying to pin him to the mattress through sheer body weight. His convulsions increased until Lydia was unsure whether or not she would be able to hold on, but she strained, trying to keep Snape down and avoid getting struck in the face by any of the flailing limbs. Then abruptly the convulsions ceased and he lay still on the bed.

Still as death, Lydia thought absently, her arms still shaking with the effort of holding the man down. He certainly looked dead, laying there limp, his face almost the same color as the sheets he lay on. When she looked closely, Lydia could see the slight rise and fall of his chest but other than that there was no sign of life in the Potions Master.

"-Draught of Living Death," Pomfrey finished.

Lydia looked up. She hadn't been paying attention to what the two teachers were saying, but she had caught that last bit as clearly as if the Mediwitch had shouted it in her ear. No wonder Snape looked as though he were dead- he might as well be for all that his body reacted now.

At some point while Lydia had been lost in thought, McGonagall had gone for Dumbledore. She waited while Pomfrey gave him the diagnosis, uncertain whether to stay and unwilling to leave. Just then, it seemed as if Dumbledore noticed her for the first time. "Miss Johnson."

She nodded, unsure what to say. Luckily for her, Dumbledore continued.

"Would you be so kind as to remain here with Professor Snape?" he asked her. "I believe Madam Pomfrey wishes to speak with me in private, and McGonagall had best be getting back to her office in case she is needed."

"Yessir." She nodded. Given, she didn't really want to be here, but if the Headmaster said so- "I'll come get you when he wakes up."

"Good girl." Dumbledore left, Pomfrey in the lead. That left McGonagall. After making sure the girl was settled, she departed too.

Lydia sat on the edge of a nearby chair, studying the man on the bed. His stillness was almost eerie; she shuddered to think of what he would look like with no air in his lungs, no heart beating in his chest. The only thing that didn't look dead was his face- the sharp features were distorted in a grimace of pain that looked so permanent Lydia could not imagine what he would look like without it.

Suddenly she became frightened of being alone in the room with no one but what amounted to a living corpse. She looked around, but there was no sign of life in the Hospital Wing, save the rapidly rising voices coming from Pomfrey's office. It was early enough in the year that no student had yet had the opportunity to hurt themselves badly enough to have to spend the night. She felt terribly alone. Outside she heard the wind howling and branches scraping across the window panes. The sound sent chills down her spine as she sat, clutching her hands together on her lap.

Eighteen years old and afraid of the wind, she scolded herself. What a load of tosh. Get a hold of yourself.

It helped a little. At least it helped her get a hold of her shaking hands and let her breathe a bit easier. As the wind continued to howl she remembered a small tune her mother used to sing to her when she had been a young child and afraid of the wind. She hummed it now and began to sing softly as the words came back to her.

"V'là l' bon vent, v'là l' joli vent
V'là l' bon vent, ma amour m'appelle,
V'là l' bon vent, v'là l' joli vent-

"V'là l' bon vent, ma amour m'attend."

Lydia nearly shrieked in fear and startlment as a dry, harsh voice rose from the direction of the bed. She looked over at Snape, her heart in her throat.

The Potions Master had risen onto one elbow and was looking at her strangely, having emerged from his potion induced stupor without warning, and at least an hour earlier than Pomfrey had said he would.

"I-"

Snape crooked one long finger at her, beckoning her over to the side of the bed. Mutely, her throat still dry with fear, she rose and walked over.

"Where did you learn that song?" Snape asked her, his voice a dry whisper.

"M-my mother used to s-sing to me when I was young," Lydia told him in a voice no louder than his. "When we lived in France."

Snape nodded, leaning back against the pillows. "What was her name?"

"Juliana. Juliana Johnson." Was it her imagination, or did she see him wince beneath the sheets?

"Julia-" he whispered. Lydia started.

"How did you know we called her that?" she asked, more sharply than she intended. "And why do I always see you looking at me so strangely? Who are you, anyway?" And how the hell did he wake so soon? Her voice rose with every question. Snape chuckled, but there was pain behind his voice.

"So she didn't talk about me. Hmm, well, I suppose it wasn't to be expected. Not something you'd care to brag about, Slytherin and Ravenclaw."

"You- you knew my mother?" Lydia demanded incredulously.

Snape nodded distractedly. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you could say that." He smiled thinly. "We went to school together. I taught her how to brew potions, she taught me what it was to be human." Seeing Lydia's look of confusion, he explained. "She and I were in a...relationship together," he said, bitterness hinting his words. "It was brief. She had to leave rather quickly, it seemed, and it wouldn't have lasted if she had stayed. It was- just a bit of fun, really. We were young and didn't know what we were doing."

"Oh." Lydia wasn't sure what to say. "So you and her were...a couple?"

"Yes, you could say that." Snape eyed her carefully, his black eyes sharp. "You look a lot like her, you know."

For some reason she couldn't understand, Lydia blushed. She glanced away, quickly changing the subject. "How did you-? The Draught, I mean. Pomfrey said you were going to be out for another hour at least."

Snape scowled, then laughed, a harsh, biting sound. "Call it a life lived among potions," was all he said, then laughed again. "Pay me no mind," he told her. "No one else does. Just put it all down to the ravings of a mad lunatic." There was a gleam in his eyes that had not been there before. Lydia doubted it was either tears or mirth that made his black irises shine so. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"P-professor Dumbledore asked me to stay here," she said. "In case you woke up, or started having convulsions again, I guess. He went to talk with Madam Pomfrey." She winced as a particularly loud shriek echoed through the walls. "They've been going at it hammer and tongs. I wonder what they're arguing about, anyway."

"Me." Snape lay back among the pillows, his eyes closed. "Dumbledore- did something Pomfrey didn't approve of. I imagine she's explaining to Dumbledore exactly why he should cease doing it immediately, using my present state as a reason." He smiled thinly, and Lydia shuddered as the voices rose and fell again. "I wonder what the outcome will be."

Once again, there was obviously more going on around here than what met the eye, but Lydia didn't press. Whether it was because she didn't want to be nosy or was too afraid of what she might find out, she didn't know. She didn't want to know.

"NO! Albus, no you can't. I'm telling you, if you want that boy to live until next term, you will not-"

Lydia and Snape both jumped as the door flew open and Pomfrey and Dumbledore barged in. Apparently, the tail end of their argument was still in full swing.

"Poppy, enough!" Dumbledore near-shouted. His voice rose not in anger, Lydia noticed, but simply in order to be heard above the Mediwitch's own shouting. Pomfrey fell silent, rebuked. Dumbledore turned to where Snape lay on the bed, startled but alert. "Awake so soon, Severus?"

Snape grunted and made a barely discernible motion with his left arm. Dumbledore looked hard at the sleeve of his robe as his eyes narrowed, then widened. "I see," was all he said.

"Albus, please, listen to me!" Lydia was surprised to see Madam Pomfrey on the verge of tears. "Please, just let it wait, it can wait! You don't have to tell him now. It's too soon!"

"Severus-" Dumbledore began, ignoring Pomfrey's pleading.

"Albus!" With a dismal wail, Pomfrey buried her face in her hands and fled.

Dumbledore sighed as he watched her go, then turned back to Snape. "Severus-" he began again, but this time it was Snape himself who cut him off with a jerk of his head. Lydia felt two pairs of eyes swivel in her direction and suddenly felt very unwanted.

"I'll go see if Madam Pomfrey's alright," she whispered and ran from the room.