A/N: Thanks all for your reviews.  It's great inspiration!  I also just wanted to let everyone know that starting this chapter (and for the sake of my sanity), Heather's going to refer to McGonagall and Snape as her mother and father much more.  When she speaks of Lily and James, she'll call them Mum and Dad.

Oh, and this chapter is short because I really wanna put something up and I'm too lazy to write out the whole sordid scene of what happens with the potion and with Harry & Heather.  Next chapter will be up soon.  (I hope.)

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Heather Hidden

Chapter Eight

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            Severus gently laid the young boy down on the blue-velvet couch situated in the middle of the living room of his dungeons, while Heather made for the bathroom.  She grabbed the nearest object resembling a bowl, filled it with lukewarm water, and returned to the room.

            She was unsurprised to see that her father had disappeared into his lab, Minerva taking up the space beside her brother.  Quietly the two women worked, knowing that at any moment the low-grade fever could explode and cause his body to overheat.

            A string of curses fluttered to the duo, followed by, "Get him in a bath.  Keep him as cool as possible." The man was ripping on his outer robes, "I have to go to Diagon.  I'll be back in a few minutes." Powder was thrown into the fireplace and the destination shouted.

            "I'll start the water." The elder shifted and half-ran into the bathroom.

            But a quiet poke at the Adiuvo caused the nearly-nineteen year old to moan – the fever had risen.  Her lungs felt like they were being pressed together and hopelessly knotted, "Hurry." She managed to strangle out, hearing the transfiguration professor speed up the amount of water entering the huge square tub.

            The room filled with the sound of the water, and all the boy could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, So tired…

            Don't go to sleep yet, Love.  Once you drink the potion, then you can sleep as long as you desire. She calmly instructed.

            Both children were only half-aware when McGonagall returned to the room, and delicately took Harry into her arms.  As she slid him fully clothed into the bath water, her mind registered that a levitating charm would probably been a better idea.

            "No.  He needs the touch more than he needs the cold air." The redhead informed, entering the bathroom.

            "There should be some towels around here somewhere.  Hold his head." The head of Gryffindor shuffled around the room.

            With all the grace of a newborn giraffe, Heather slid into the water, before pulling the scarred boy into her lap.

            Cold.

            I know. She began to brush her fingers through his damp locks.

            McGonagall returned to the tub side, several black and silver towels in her hands, as well as a dry set of clothes.  She knelt down, "Harry, love, you have to stay awake for just a bit longer."

            The sound of a door being slammed was heard in the background, allowing the two more-lucid people to realize that Severus had returned.

            Heather looked down at the fifteen-year old.  His eyes were occasionally slipping close then popping open, so she gently began to speak, "Harry, would you like to hear about Mum and Dad's wedding?"

            Wedding?  You were there?

            "I was.  Remember I was born while they were still in school.  They weren't sure they were going to stay together so they didn't get married until Mum found out she was two months pregnant with you."

            Oh.

            "No, you know what?  I'm going to tell you about when you were a baby." She sniffed and sighed, "You were a very sweet baby.  Beyond the fact that you got mad at us sometimes, but Mum could always calm you and make you laugh.  You loved when she rocked you, sang to you."

            Pretty music.

            "It was pretty music." She began to rock him, desperate to keep him awake.  Her skin was relaying the message to her brain that he was getting warmer.  Calmly, she reached one hand down and worked at the buttons, stopping when he struggled to get away from her.

            No.  Nononono…

            "It's me, Harry." He ignored her words, so she pressed into his mind, It's me.  I promise that it's just me, little brother.  You're so warm.  I only want to get your shirt off so the sweat gets away from your skin.

            Slowly, the young man released his tensed muscles and allowed his sister to take the garment from his body.  Another reassurance, and his pants followed, leaving him clothed solely in his boxers.

            "MINERVA!" The shout came from clear across the quarters, deep inside the Potion Master's lab.

            She did not need to be called twice.  The teenage redhead couldn't say a word; the elder woman was gone well before either child could comprehend that they were alone in the room.

            Sorry.

            That's two.  You did not cause this, Love.  I know of no one who can make themselves ill on command.

            But I didn't tell you.

            Yes.  Well, I am the judge of the apologies, am I not?  And I say that you have done nothing wrong.

            He contentedly laid his head on her shoulder, "I'm hot."

            "I know." She cupped some water into her hand, raising it to his sweat-slicked and overheated skin, "Once Papa finishes the potion, you'll feel much better." The water slipped through her fingers, down his neck, back, and returned to the bath.

            "Feels good."

            She smiled grimly and kissed his hair, placing her hand back into the water.  The cycle continued – water in hand, water running over him, water being cooled by the dungeons so he would cool off – multiple times, until a teary-eyed Transfigurations Professor re-entered the room.

            "Mom?" Heather was scared.  It was blunt and it was the truth.  The elder woman rarely looked the way she did at that moment.  Some thing was very wrong.

            "Heather, help me get him dressed." The voice was barely a whisper.

            "Not until you tell me why you look so upset." Her eyes narrowed, 'I'll force the truth out of her if I have to.'

            Swiftly, another joined the trio, pulling the sopping boy from the clear liquid.  Snape wrapped a towel around him, took the offered clothes McGonagall help up, and disappeared back into the living room.

            The teen didn't even step out from the tub, "If it is going to affect him badly, we'll find another way."

            "You know there isn't another way."

            "Mom, what is it?" Her temper was fading fast.

            The professor stared at her adopted daughter for a moment, taking in the sight of the eighteen-year old, damp from head-to-toe and getting angry.  "Heather, the Adiuvo…it might…" Words were escaping the elder, "This potion is his only hope, and when he takes it, the effects might disintegrate the bond."

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            Heather rushed into the workroom; water dripping into the crevices between the stones, which made up the floor.  She passed unfilled vials and simmering cauldrons, shelves and shelves of ingredients.  The very back of the almost-hallway like laboratory were the tomes of books from Severus' private collection.

            The Adiuvo was an ancient bond from unsettled times when the loss of one child could often have been prevented.  Its origins were a bit clouded, but every piece of knowledge on it had been collected and charmed, so it could not be lost to the ages.

            "Bonds of the YouthTelepathy in Witches and WizardsHonestusHostis…" her fingers tripped over the volumes, settling on one at the very end of the last shelf, "Adiuvo: Blood and Love."

            The speed at which she flipped through the pages was practically manic.  Then, on the last page, lay her greatest fear.

            The potion, Draught of Coactus, can adversely affect Adiuvo.  Often the side effects are minimal damage that corrects over time.  However, some instances have occurred where the bond has been too destroyed to restore itself.  It will fester almost like wound, until the elder, and thus the better-trained sibling, is unable to maintain a difference in the two minds.  When the minds meld into one, neither will be able to decipher one from the other.

            With their minds as one, but their bodies separate, they will slowly lose their sanity.  Inside of three months, one will die by their own hand.  The other, now being left alone with mismatched emotions and memories, will go insane.  Their body will begin shutting down shortly afterward and die.

            The girl dropped the book to the floor, dazed, then followed it in tears.

            'This isn't happening.  Why is this bloody happening?!' Her mind screeched, her eyes trained on her hands.  Her nails were digging helplessly into her flesh.  Little pools of blood were forming and old feelings were surfacing.

            "Heather!"

            The redhead's gaze shifted, worried dark pools of vision stared back, "I can't stop.  Help me."

            He lifted her hands to pry her fists open.  This was not the first time he had needed to do so, and it wrenched the raven-haired man's heart, "We've sent emergency owls out to the specialists from the Order, to St. Mungos, and to several others." Her fingers relaxed, "Heather, I will not let anything happen to you or to Harry.  I promise you that."

            "No.  He will die if he doesn't get that…"

            "He could die even if he does get the potion."

            Heather? Harry's voice was weak.

            "What if I'm there?  There has to be literature on the other cases that you or Mom have read.  Maybe the ones who experienced the minor damage were with their brother or sister when they got the Draught."

            "I think it was mentioned once or twice, but it's still risky."

            She broke out completely from her daze, and grasped his face in her hands, "Papa, I don't want to lose him too.  If we lose our minds, then at least we'll lose them together.  I've lived far too long with his dry jokes, his laughter, in my head to give it up now."

            "You're sure?" He searched her emerald eyes for anything telling him she was scared or doubtful.  There was none.

            "I can't live without him." She whispered, "And I cannot believe that he can live without me talking to him when he needs me most."

            Stiffly, the man rose and pulled her up with him, "Sips are reversible.  And that is what I will give him.  The first sign that either you or he are in distress I'll give him the antidote."

            "Don't let him die."

            "I won't."

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*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com