A/N:  Oh, wait, I forgot to write another loathing note to Severus last chapter.  So here goes: Severus!  Stop being stupid!

A/N: So how exactly does he feel about Harry…?

Chapter Eight: 1995

"I loved you, you know," he says.  Pacing.  He turns, quickly.  "And you abandoned me."  He points accusingly.  "You abandoned me."

* * *

Why was a cat sneaking down among the carriages?  Now that is an interesting question there.  Why is a cat sneaking down to snoop among the Hogwarts carriages?  She sniffs around them, examines their doors, as if trying to find out how to get in.  She finds no way.  She stalks off, miffed, to sit in a patch of grass next to them—well out of their path for this evening—and begins to wash her tail unconcernedly. 

Why was a man sneaking down among the carriages?  Now that is an interesting question too.  Here he is, looking around feverishly, calling a name here and there, nearly frantic.  What is the usually-dignified potions master doing?

Don't ask the cat.  She has already hidden.

* * *

It was all Peeves' fault, really.  Peeves had locked the door, forcing them to Apparate inside instead.  Which demonstrated quite clearly to them that the magic was back on at Hogwarts once again.  Which meant Minerva had to travel with the carriages down to the Hogsmeade station.  Which was something Severus could not allow.  So really, it was all Peeves' fault.

Peeves had nothing to do with it, but he had been the one to prod them on to their discovery, so he was a useful target.  Severus' mind needed targets—it sought them out.  His mind just worked this way, and he knew it worked this way, and he accepted it.  Therefore Peeves was the one to blame. But Minerva had still sneaked out on the sly this evening, so he still had to go out after her.  Which meant Peeves would be getting even more grief from him later this evening. 

The problem with the route from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was that it passed through the main school gates and through a benign—but thick-brushed—section of the Forbidden Forest.  Minerva would have to walk past this to get down to the station.  Or just ride past it—either could lead to a disaster.  For Severus did not trust this new turning-on of the magic.  It was a hoax, a fake confidence-booster designed to catch them unawares with some tragedy. 

Professor Dumbledore thought so, too.  So did Minerva.  So she'd gone out in it to face possible mortal peril, knowing full well how Severus viewed the matter.  Severus ran among the carriages, looking frantically.  But no one was there.

* * *

After Severus had finally left, Minerva jumped down from the top of the carriage she'd been hiding on.  He should have known he'd never be able to find her.  Cats were adept hiders. 

Unfortunately, they weren't quite as adept at opening carriage doors.  After a few more minutes went by without Severus returning, Minerva transformed back to her human form and tried all the doors, one by one.  Locked.  Rowena only knew how the students opened the doors in Hogsmeade.

Adriana, on the other hand, would be quite proud of her.

If she were here.

Knowing Severus might come back at any time, Minerva transformed herself into the tabby again and hunkered down to wait.  She'd have to follow the carriages on foot, and her cat body was in far better shape than her human body, which unfortunately had not seen much more exercise than the occasional walk to Hogsmeade in many years.  All there was to do now was…wait.  She sat down in a nice little grass-patch and began to bathe again.

The sun was already down, and Minerva had moved from her tail up to her front legs.  She couldn't escape, whenever she was a cat, the ironies of having two different sets of instincts:  as a human, bathing like a cat would have disgusted her, but now it was just natural.

Now much longer could it be?  She paused at the end of one tongue-stroke, looking up to the sky and seeing the first few stars peeping out.  The ceiling of the Great Hall would be magnificent tonight—it was a new moon and only the faint pinpoints would shine in the darkness.

Long shafts of cheery firelight already projected from the castle windows across the lawn.  Any time now, the carriages would have to move out.  Any time now.  They'd have to be late already, wouldn't they?

C-R-R-EAK.

Minerva's triangular ears shot up.  A single cricket that had been chirping off to her right (exactly three meters, between the leaves of a dandelion, her cat brain had discovered earlier) stopped.  Sudden silence fell.

C-R-R-EAK.

A single carriage lurched forward a few feet, then rolled back.  Minerva stood up and stretched, knowing she'd need to be on the move soon—

All of a sudden the horseless carriages rocketed forward—fast!  They were halfway to the school gates before Minerva could take a single step.  Minerva bounded forward as fast as she could.  The cat was fast—but would it tire?  Minerva estimated the road to Hogsmeade at two kilometers.  There was only on way to find out.

Minerva left the iron gates behind and sprinted in the carriages' wake.  The open lawns shone with muted starlight to her cats' eyes.  The carriages disappeared around a bend in the road ahead, and Minerva kicked up her pace.  She had to get to Hogsmeade before the students boarded.

A sudden breeze rustled the grass in the field around her.

Minerva had a cat's eyes.  She had a cat's ears.  She had a cat's nose—she'd sense anything that was hidden around her.

The woods enveloped her now.  Trees more tame in this section of the Forest allowed the growth of weeds and high brush on the forest floor.  She couldn't see beyond it.  She continued on, beginning to feel frantic.  She was slowing down, she was slowing down, she must catch up!

A sudden rodent-like squeaking brought her pause, and her cat's instincts had her searching the woods to her right.

What are you doing? She scolded herself, and pushed on at an even faster run.

It was ten minutes before she cleared the Forbidden Forest, its trees creaking and moving across the sky like spidery arms above her.  A new wind had picked up from the west, and her sensitive nose detected the scent of coming rain.

There it was: Hogsmeade Station lay ahead of her in a haze of golden light.  Nearly exhausted, she sprinted forward anew. 

The older students had already begun to mill around the horseless carriages, which were waiting patiently.  Breathing a sigh in relief (or as much of a sigh in relief as a winded cat can breathe), Minerva walked into the area of light.

Now to find Harry.  Or Ron, or Hermione: the three came as a unit.  As it turned out, she didn't have long to wait.  After only a few seconds of searching, Minerva heard a rather low, throaty meow and turned to see a bow-legged tabby cat rushing toward her.  She tensed—but the other cat came up and touched its nose to hers—and started purring.  It was obviously a friendly greeting, but Minerva was a bit nonplussed, especially when the other cat flopped down on the ground right next to her as if to rest.  Shaking off the surprise, she was about to leave in search of Harry Potter again when she heard a girl's voice:

"Crookshanks!  Did you find a new friend?"  It was the voice of Hermione Granger—though Minerva had never heard it quite that sugar-sweet before.  The cat (Crookshanks apparently) stood and arced his back in pleasure as Hermione knelt to pet him.  She reached out to scratch Minerva behind the ears—

--then pulled back quickly with a small gasp.

"Professor McGonagall!"

Minerva had demonstrated her Animagus abilities for Hermione's year.

Ron and Harry, looking a little annoyed, appeared behind Hermione after a few seconds.  Ron gave a snort.

"Hermione, you'll have every cat in Scotland following you around soon.  Just whatever you do, don't feed it."

Hermione looked at Minerva helplessly and said, "Ron—this is Professor McGonagall."

That shut Ron up.  Harry apparently recognized her feline form too, by the look on his face, probably from the distinct spectacle-like markings around her eyes.  It was probably time to—

C-R-R-EAK. 

Oh, yes, she knew that sound.

A few carriages began to move forward, but slowly.  Ron and Harry sprinted for an empty one, leaving Hermione to scoop up her cat and follow them, with a hesitant glance back at Minerva.  Minerva sped past her to Harry's and Ron's carriage and leapt inside.

By the time the carriage had started moving slowly forward—the door still open—all three humans and two cats were settled in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all seemed jumpy to the sharing a car with a teacher—they kept shooting little uncertain glances at each other and at her.

"Wait!  Wait for me!"

Both Minerva's and Crookshanks' ears perked up at the sound.  Ron leaned outside the carriage and pulled in something that seemed quite heavy—and turned out to be Ginny Weasley, face flushed from running.  The momentum of Ron's hauling threw her into a seat next to Harry, whom she looked up at and blushed a deeper scarlet.  She was still breathing heavily from exertion.

Ron pulled the door closed.

"That's it—no more room," he said.  "I think five'll do."

"Five?" Ginny said, frowning and looking around at the three other children.

Minerva stretched luxuriously on the jarring carriage floor, nearly losing her balance.

"Oh," Ginny said, eyes wide.  She'd seen Minerva in her Animagus form as well.  There was no further conversation.  Minerva counted off the minutes in her head: now they had reached the woods, now they were through, in the meadows in front of the school gates.  The carriages were, of course, traveling much more slowly back up to the castle than they had on their breakneck dash down to the station.  There was student safety to consider.

Harry cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat (away from Ginny).  Hermione glanced over at them, then turned her gaze out the carriage window.  The wind had picked up and now whistled around chinks in the door of the carriage.  Ron shivered a bit and looked around, finally sticking Harry with a "what's going on?" look.  Harry looked self-consciously down at Minerva, then gave a small shrug in reply.  He looked out the carriage window at the meadows.  The moonless starlight cast weak, insubstantial shadows like watered-down milk across the faces of all the children, which seemed to belie the stifling mood of the carriage.

Well, she'd been right about one thing, Minerva reflected wryly.  It was a good thing Severus hadn't had this job, or the four Gryffindor students might have died of the tension. 

Wait.  That wasn't funny.

But it was also fortunate that she'd come, because Severus would have taken up much more room than the carriage could afford, and Ginny, if not Harry, would definitely be sitting on the floor.  Minerva could be a cat and leave enough room for everyone to be comfortable.  Physically.

After far too many minutes of tense listening, Minerva felt the carriage slow underneath her.  The light on Harry's face now was a golden yellow, giving him a far more natural complexion that the washed-out starlight.  Minerva knew they were underneath the castle.  With a lurch, the carriage stopped completely.  Hermione sprang up and opened the door, then held back to let Minerva go through first.  Which she did, but not without competition from Crookshanks.

As soon as she was outside the carriage, Minerva transformed back to human.  Standing (and straightening her rather crumpled hat), she turned to face the four students who had just filed out of the car.

And who looked less than anticipatory.

"Thank you for sharing your car," she said, trying a gracious smile.  Until she remembered that Professor Minerva McGonagall didn't give out gracious smiles.  Ron looked edgewise at Harry, but had the sense not to raise his eyebrows (too far).  Harry shifted uncomfortably and—Minerva nearly gasped—raised a hand to rub at his scar.  Ginny just looked up at her.  With big, brown eyes that reminded Minerva suddenly and unpleasantly of where this young girl had been three years ago…

Minerva cleared her throat.  "Well, hurry up!  You don't want to be late for the Sorting ceremony.  Off you go!"  She watched as they walked up the stairs to the great front doors.  For a second she remained standing beside the carriage.  Was there any need to hurry it?  She didn't care what Severus thought about what she'd done: it had been necessary, it had been for the safety of the students.  It would be nice to avoid a scene, though…except that she was in charge of the Sorting, which would be starting momentarily.  And about which she had totally forgotten. 

It's hard to say whether anything quite matches a person trying to sprint up a flight of stairs and retain their dignity for hilarity.  Minerva certainly hoped so.

She found in the Entrance Hall a large group of very frightened-looking first-years.  Very frightened-looking, in fact, or at least more so than normal.  Catching her breath (and trying again to straighten that hat), Minerva tried to look enough like a teacher to address the group in an authoritative voice.

"Welcome to Hogwarts.  My—name is Professor McGonagall, I am also the Deputy—Headmis—" she broke off finally, seeing their confused expressions.  "Have you—have you already been told about—the Sorting?"  They nodded.  Minerva paused.  "Who—is in charge of it?"

No answer, but several of them looked at her as if they might possibly be being interviewed by an unstable escapee of some type instead of a teacher.

Well, she probably looked the part.  Minerva tried to quell her annoyance.

"Well, speak up.  I actually need to know—I've only just arrived—"

The doors to the Great Hall opened loudly behind her and Minerva turned to see Severus striding out, a very unpleasant expression on his face.  His eyes were fixed beadily upon her.

Damn it.

"Professor Snape," she said, hoping to keep any arguments out of earshot of large groups of students.  "Are they ready for the first-years?"

Severus nodded wordlessly and thrust a large parchment roll of names at her.  Upon taking it, her fingers brushed against his.  Severus quite suddenly clamped his hand over hers—behind the parchment roll.  For a long second he looked into her eyes with an expression that communicated more than any rebuke, argument, or angry tirade could have.

Minerva broke the handclasp and turned to lead the first-years into the Great Hall.  Severus whirled about and marched in ahead of them, robes blowing in the breeze of his passage.  Minerva followed him with her eyes until he gained the High Table and sat down.  Then she was focused on the list of names.  She gave the usual introduction to the Sorting, placed the Hat on its stool, and stepped back for it to sing. 

For a second, nothing happened.  The entire assembly, and the first-years in particular, leaned forward eagerly.  A small rip appeared in the Hat just above the brim and quickly widened into a mouth.  The Hat began to sing:

            "Another year, another batch!

            Your faces are all new.

            No looks of fear, my little ones,

            But where shall I Sort you?

            Shall I give you to Rowena,

            That witch of silver and blue?

            A lust for learning, cleverness:

            Inquiring minds are all her hue.

            Or in the house of Helga,

            With the golden banner o'erhead splayed?

            Not one of hers has forsaken a friend

            Nor ever from his duty strayed.

            Or could be for old Salazar

            You're of a mind and nature keen:

            A cunning one of aspirations

            Under the billowing banner green.

            Or is Godric your true wizard,

            Were you for courage in danger bred?

            If so, watch out, you'll find aplenty

            Of both in the house of gold and bloodred.

            Now step right up, now put me on!

            There's no need for you to fear.

            I'll Sort you once, I'll Sort you right,

            All you must do is come right here!"

(Loud applause ensued.)

Despite the Hat's reassurances, the first-years looked less than convinced that there was nothing to fear, and Minerva secretly shared their feelings.  She didn't think she'd ever heard quite this morbid a Sorting song.  No matter.  One by one the crowd of first-years dwindled, until finally, her job finished, Minerva Banished the Hat and stool to Albus' office and took her place at the High Table—between Albus and Severus.  Albus greeted her with a grateful smile; Severus said nothing and Minerva tried to not look at him (without being too surreptitious about it).

The Great Hall was beginning to feel right again, full of chatter and movement and warm bodies.  Minerva caught the optimistic upswing in mood at the High Table, but tried to distance herself from it.  Though the cheery, bright candlelight reflected off happy faces all around her, she needed only to look at a certain student at her house's table to sober herself up.  Or come to think of it, she could look beside her.  On the power of internal suggestion, Minerva turned slightly to look at Severus on her right.  He gave her a look of practiced anger and barely-hidden reproach.  There wasn't much to do to that but to give a polite, unaffected smile and turn back forward.  And find something else to look at, quick.

Her eye settled on Harry's group, who had situated themselves in the middle of long Gryffindor Table.  Right now they were all, even little Ginny, leaned forward with heads together discussing something.  She didn't need Ron's glance up towards her at the High Table, and the subsequent dispersal of the committee to regular eating, to know what they were talking about.  Harry took one more look, aimed more toward Severus, a thoughtful expression on his face.  Even from where she was, Minerva could see his face darken before he finally turned back to his plate.

Hearing a gentle sloshing sound, Minerva glanced over and saw Severus swirling his wine-glass again, something he'd never done in front of students before.

Albus leaned over toward Minerva and Severus now. 

"It looks like another rivalrous year—I counted nine new Gryffindors and nine Slytherins," he said.

Minerva gave a polite smile and nod, trying not to let it show that she had been too distracted to keep count. 

"Something tells me, Headmaster," said Severus wryly, "that our houses don't need an equal number of new members to be rivalrous." 

Albus chuckled.  "No, I'd say not, Severus.  Do try the mutton chops, they are excellent this evening."  He turned to Professor Sprout on his left and began talking about this year's new Hufflepuffs. 

The low roar of conversation rose steadily as the evening progressed, with more people finishing their meals.  The Gryffindor Investigatory Committee all had their heads together again and were discussing something earnestly.  Minerva watched with faint amusement as Ginny jumped into the conversation, making large gestures with her hands.  She had come a long way in three years…

A faint sloshing was still coming from her right, though it didn't look like any of the students had noticed.  Minerva glanced over at Severus again and caught him looking at her.  For a moment it looked like he would turn away, but then he leaned forward slightly (the sloshing ended). 

"Did you encounter…any difficulties?" Severus asked her.  Mienrva was confused for a moment.  Then she remembered.

"No.  Other than the fact that all the carriage doors were locked," she added flippantly.  His eyes didn't widen, but they somehow became more piercing.

"So—on foot to Hogsmeade."

"Yes."

"A lone woman, walking—"

"A lone witch."  She didn't have to justify herself to Severus; the man was thirty years her junior.  "And a cat, for that matter: better running speed."

Severus said nothing, but turned back quickly to his drink, a slightly sick expression on his face.  Minerva had a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

--good god, he really was thirty years her junior.  She counted the years.  Thirty-one to be exact.

Minerva wasn't conscious of the void of conversation to her left until Albus cleared his throat softly and gave her a significant glance.  He made a faint eyebrow-gesture toward the student tables, which had begun to clear out in small clusters. 

"I have been trying to keep a close eye on Harry Potter all night," he told her, and she began to search the Gryffindor table.  "He's left."  Minerva looked up at him.

"He probably left early to get to his common room before the first-years arrived," Severus said in a low voice.  "There is no need to fear just yet."

Minerva's eyes swept the Gryffindor table once more—yes, Harry had gone.  Hermione remained, and Ron, and Ginny.  The young girl was giggling into her napkin at something or other. 

"All the same, we must know.  Minerva."  Minerva nodded, trying not to widen her eyes.  First name again.  "Minerva, go up to the Gryffindor Common Room and see if you can find him."

She slipped out of her seat and out a side door in the Hall near the High Table.  Outside the Great Hall, the feeling of rightness hadn't spread yet: everything was in place, the air had a fresh, light feel of cleanliness, and everything was muffled.  Her feet as they struck the ground were made of some heavy cloth.  The echoes of her footsteps did not ring true on the stone walls.  She hastened to the staircase, which was filled with a more substantial torchlight than the corridors.  Up five flights, down the hall to the left; a hurried one-word exchange with the Fat Lady, and she was climbing awkwardly through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Mr. Potter?" she called to the un-echoing, plush walls.  "Mr. Potter?  Come along now, you're needed…"

There was no sound in response.

"Mr. Potter?"  Minerva began walking up the stairs at the far end of the room towards the fifth-year boys' dormitory. 

"Harry?" she called out to the empty four-posters.  "Harry?"

She shook her head and began down the stairs again.  He might have gone to the library—though the thought of a Gryffindor boy in the library when there was no homework to be done was a bit ludicrous. 

He wasn't in the library either. 

"Harry!" one last call before she returned to the Great Hall empty-handed.  It was met with silence.

Minerva didn't bother with the side entrance on her return, blowing in the main doors and up the aisle between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.  So it was obvious to her from her first step in the room that Dumbledore had left the High Table.  Severus remained, along with most of the teaching staff.  She walked up to stand across the table from him.

"Severus, he's not in the common room.  I checked the library too. I don't know where else to look—and where's Dumbledore?"

Severus to his credit was calm.  "Dumbledore received an urgent call, which he is taking in his office.  He doesn't want to be disturbed."  He gave her a very meaningful look, and she had the feeling that it had something to do with Fudge.  Then his eyes shifted and took on a wry look.  "And really, Professor—you looked in the library for young Potter?"

Minerva was too worried to appreciate any humor at the moment. 

Sometimes things happen because they are meant to happen; they are part of an intricate and grand plan for the universe called fate.  Sometimes things happen because they are made to happen, because some active member of the universe sets elements in motion to serve its own devices. 

And sometimes things just happen, with no apparent reason or explanation.  It's hard to say which reason for happening each event has behind it, until the event is sufficiently removed in time to be viewed with a more critical and distant eye.  But in any event, events do happen all the time, and they can only be recorded for posterity to reason out.

A single candle in the Great Hall, suspended for years by some spell long-uttered by some person long-forgotten, fell from its position in mid-air to splatter on the Slytherin table with a sizzle of hot wax.

After the candle fell—which Minerva saw happen out of the corner of her eye—she froze.  Severus froze as well, looking into her eyes.  A few isolated shrieks of surprise—mostly from the Slytherin girls—were quickly muffled, and a hesitant laughter filled the Great Hall.  A candle to fall?  Such a thing had never happened.

--it probably hadn't, and to trust such a thing to random chance—

"It was a candle," she hissed to Severus under her breath.  "There's no reason—if anything—he wouldn't spend such time to dislodge a candle." 

"Of course not," said Severus, visibly shaken.  "But this is an even larger coincidence than that of today ending a long blackout."  So he was still pursuing this?

"We have to remain calm," Minerva said.  "But we also need to look into the possibility that—well—something is happening here."

"Until the blackouts," said Severus softly.  "I would have said nothing could happen here.  Not with Dumbledore around." 

Minerva could have shared a similar story, but now was time for action.  And action without Professor Dumbledore, too.

"Severus, do you think Harry could be in real danger?"

His lip curled slightly.  "Yes—it's a possibility."

"So do I."  She paused.  "We know he's after Harry.  Harry."

"Minerva, I think we must—"

Minerva was already clanging a spoon against her wine glass for attention—rather more forcefully than usual.  Within a few seconds the roar of conversation had died out as every student in the room turned his or her eyes on the Deputy Headmistress standing in front of the High Table.  Minerva paused to collect herself.

"First of all, welcome back to a new school year.  It is always good to see old—and new—faces at the start of each September."  She tried to not take an unusually deep breath.  "Well, this has been a wonderful feast"—one of the Weasley twins, Fred or George, waved a spoon in the air in agreement—"and I'm sure you are all in need of a good night's sleep to prepare yourselves for the start of classes tomorrow.  Prefects, if you would lead your house's first-years to their common rooms."  She paused to take a breath and continued, "Remember—first classes at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.  Come to breakfast for your time tables." 

The crowd of students began standing up and milling about the house tables.  Hermione (who of course had been made a prefect) jumped up to lead a small group of first-years to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The empty Gryff Common Room.

Minerva turned back around to Severus and wasn't surprised to see anger in his eyes.

"Be reassured," she said quickly, "that I have not taken leave of my senses.  We're about to have watching eyes in every corner of the school—wherever Harry's gotten to, there'll be company nearby.  And large groups of older students together will be safe, while the first-years are in the charge of their prefects."  She looked at him again.

Still no change.

"That," he pronounced slowly and deliberately, "was one of the most foolhardy and reckless things I have ever seen done at this school."

"We must ensure Potter's safety—"

"At the expense of the safety of the other students?" Severus came to his feet angrily.  "There are more in danger here than that—"

"I wonder if you could keep your personal feelings for that boy in check for just one damn minute!" Minerva said heatedly, causing not a few faculty and nearby-student head-turns.  She lowered her voice.  "Listen: Harry is the target, if anyone.  He's the one in danger—if anyone."

"And just what do you propose we do now?"

"We look for him."

"With the corridors this busy?  You'll be lucky if he turns up by midnight."

"He'll be more likely to come back to the common room now, seeing that everyone has left their dinner and congregated—"

"Didn't he leave to be alone?"

Most of the rest of the faculty had left the table by now, and most of the students had crowded around the large doors. 

"Why do you leave someone?"

Minerva looked at him sharply. "What did you say?"

"I said, why do you leave large groups?"  Minerva relaxed.

"You leave them," Severus continued, "because you have tired of their company.  You leave them to be al—"

"I can see we're accomplishing nothing by arguing here," Minerva said brusquely.  "I think the best course of action right now would be to go search for him."  She eyed Severus beadily.  "Shall we split up?"

He moved around the table to meet her next to the Gryffindor table.  They began walking—very briskly—toward the doors. 

"I'll take the dungeons and lower floors," Severus offered in an undertone once they'd reached the throng of students.

"I'll start in the castle proper and move to the towers," she said.  They headed out into the corridor.

The halls roared with life now as Minerva hurried through the crowd.  The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs were heading upstairs, so Minerva had plenty of company for most of her search.  Charms classroom: no.  TF classroom: no luck.  On a sudden inspiration Minerva ran to Madame Hooch's quidditch office, but Harry wasn't there, either.  By now she was level with the base of Gryffindor Tower.  It was possible that he'd gone back to bed…

Minerva walked down the hall past her private rooms and ran headlong into Severus, who had been marching up the dark hallway in the opposite direction.

"Severus!"

"Minerva—any luck?"

"No—I thought he might be—"

"—in the common room."  He paused for a moment.  "I came here to report about the same."

She nodded briskly and turned down the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait.  Severus followed on her heels.

"Fuoco dolce," she snapped at the pink-berobed woman, who sniffed and let them through. 

"So this is the top-secret location," Severus said in her ear, somehow finding time for humor.  She might have been proud of him if it weren't for the circumstances.  As it was Minerva came close to actually rolling her eyes, and would have, save for all the students milling around. 

Who had definitely noticed their head of house enter the room looking like something the cat had dragged in, with the head of Slytherin house close on her heels.  Minerva drew herself up, looked over the heads of those students who were shorter than her.  There.  Just in the center of the room: Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, sitting in a small cluster of armchairs.  Still talking with an air of great secrecy, heads together. 

"Professor?  Can I…do you need…?" 

Minerva looked up to see a seventh-year prefect with a hesitant expression on his face.

"No, McGowan.  Thank you."  She pressed through the crowd toward the Investigatory Council, Severus right behind her.  A virtual wave of silence followed the potions master along his path of travel, high spirits dampened by his sour face—or else by sour memories.  As if sensing their approach, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny looked up, eyes registering surprise at seeing Minerva—and Snape. 

"Professors?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger.  I wonder if you would have any information"—she looked around and lowered her voice—"on the whereabouts of Mr. Potter?"

Hermione's eyes widened.  "No."

"He left the Great Hall after dinner, said he was coming up to bed," Ron offered.  He shrugged. "But he's not here."

Severus made an impatient noise behind her.  "Would you have any idea of where he might have gone?"

Hermione looked apprehensive. "Have—have you checked the library?"

"Yes."

"Madame—Madame Hooch's office?"

Slight sneer.  "Yes."

"What we're saying, Miss Granger," Minerva cut in, "is that we really have no idea where he is.  And we need to find—"

"Is he in danger?" Ron asked.

"You'd do well not to interrupt, Mr. Weasley—"

"I said, is he in danger," Ron interrupted Severus.  His eyes narrowed.  "It's not against the rules or anything to be out this early—"

"Is he alright?" Ginny asked, eyes wide.

"To all our knowledge," said Minerva. 

"I don't know where else he'd be," said Hermione, white-faced.  "You've checked Hagrid's house?"

"Hagrid himself assured me on that point," said Severus. 

"I'm sorry," said Hermione.  "We don't know."

Ginny shivered and sat back further in her armchair, her large brown eyes shadowed over.  Ron looked angry—his response to the helplessness of the situation, Minerva supposed.

"Thank you," said Minerva.  She turned to leave, sweeping past Severus and out the portrait hole.  He followed. 

"Alright—now what do we do?" he asked. 

"We—I suppose we search the upper floors of the castle," said Minerva.  They set off, but together this time.  Thirty minutes of searching all the important places—classrooms, offices—yielded nothing.  The halls had all cleared out by this time, and were dark and silent once more.  Minerva was almost glad Albus had sacked the security trolls after a few weeks; running into a troll in the dead of night was about the last thing Minerva wanted to deal with right now.  The isolated classroom clocks ticked ever closer to curfew time, and still no Potter. 

"Do you know what Potter did the first time he saw me?" Severus asked suddenly.

Minerva started. "Well—no."

"It was his first beginning-of-term feast.  He was sitting at the Gryffindor table.  He looked up at me—he didn't know who I was at the time, of course, but as soon as he saw me, he sort of flinched.  And then he felt his scar, like he'd had a sudden pain."  Minerva looked up in moderate surprise.

"I trust you saw him looking at me tonight," Severus continued in the same tone, and Minerva thought uncomfortably about Harry rubbing his scar outside the carriage…

"He looked at me, and it was with the same sort of expression he had that first night.  Sort of curious, but this time he just sort of shadowed over—and then he turned around."

Minerva had seen this, in fact.

"Did you look back at him?  Make any gestures?"

He tsked. "Of course not, Minerva.  I made sure to be studying a spot on the Ravenclaw table at the time."

Minerva frowned. "He's bound to look at you differently now," she offered lamely after a few seconds.

"After what?" Severus asked suspiciously, looking at her with a frown.

"After—well, all of last year.  And after he knows you were a—"

Severus stopped short. "He knows—what?" 

"Severus: he's known since the middle of last spring."  Albus had pulled her aside quietly after the Pensieve incident.

"So why is he looking at me strangely now?"

"Why did he look at you strangely his first year?" she countered, annoyed. "There's no way of knowing.  Now I suggest we keep looking for him before the night gets any later."

Severus made another tsking sound, but followed her dutifully. 

There weren't many places on the top levels of the castle to attract a fifteen year old wizard, and Minerva frankly didn't know where to begin.  The night could hardly have grown darker, dark as it was to begin with, but it seemed the torchlight had been muted here, the torches placed further apart…something.

"Potter—" Severus called out, startling her, and she reached over to clamp a hand on his mouth.

"Let me do any calling," she said, with a severe look at his startled eyes.  "We don't want him running away."

"It's nearly curfew time to begin with," Severus grumbled—softly—as he stepped away from her hand.

"There's a distinct possibility he's got his Invisibility Cloak with him, and we don't want him to just disappear on us, do we?" she glared at him and continued walking.

"Perhaps we should walk arms-out to sweep the hallway for him?" Severus asked with not just a dash of sarcasm.

They were working their way to the last unscoured hallway on this floor, and Minerva was wearing out her last nerve.

"You know what?" she rounded on Severus, who drew up short in surprise.  "You know what?  Maybe we should.  Maybe we should sweep the hallway.  Maybe we should give him a detention.  Maybe we should expel him!  You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He gave no verbal response, so she continued on, eyes narrowed, spitting the words out.

"You know what else? Maybe I shouldn't have released dinner!  Maybe I shouldn't have gone to Hogsmeade!  Maybe I should be glad for your company here, glad I have someone to keep me in line!  Maybe I should be grateful to you!  Maybe!  But also, maybe you shouldn't have—"

Slightest pause.

"Maybe I shouldn't have what?" he asked in a voice, so soft, so politely curious, she might almost have believed it if she hadn't known him.

"Maybe…"

"Take your pick," he said, wryly humorous in a way that almost reached his eyes.

Maybe you shouldn't have joined Voldemort.

"Maybe…you shouldn't have called out for Harry," she finished in a whisper.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," he echoed, just as soft.

"Maybe you shouldn't have snapped at Ron."

"Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Maybe…" she trailed off, whisper fading to silence.  He seemed to understand the meaningless, noiseless statement, nodding imperceptibly as he had to the others.

Maybe…it occurred to her that he could have his own list to add to hers. 

"Maybe," he began, so soft she had to strain to hear him, "maybe we…"
Yes?

"…should continue searching, instead of standing here in philosophical discussion," he concluded.

"You're probably right," Minerva said in a normal voice, causing Severus to jump.  She turned swiftly, leaving him to follow in her wake.

"Um…Professor?"  A small, hesitant but undeniably teenage-male voice said from the shadows to her right.  Minerva jumped, then righted herself to face the shadow.

"Mr. Potter!  What—do you realize how long we've been looking for you?"

He stepped out of the doorway, shoulders squared in such a way that she could tell he was trying very hard not to square them and coming up unsuccessful.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall.  I didn't realize how late it was.  It isn't curfew time," he pointed out hopefully.

Severus moved up behind her, and she made a small hand movement.  A "stay quiet" movement.  Minerva was lost for a moment on what to tell him, and came up with the best thing off the top of her head.  A teacher's natural question.

"What are you doing in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office at nine o' clock at night?"

He shifted his weight, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well, I…I heard, you know, a rumor.  On the Hogwarts Express," he added helpfully.  "Someone said Professor Lupin had come back this year."

Minerva sighed, and nodded.  She saw him brighten, and quickly said,

"Unfortunately, you heard wrong, Mr. Potter, and our new Defense teacher is currently in his chambers resting."  She paused.  "I'm sorry" seemed a very clichéd and, in any event, inadequate response. 

"Oh."  Harry's face fell.

Severus had said nothing, and it was probably best to keep things that way.

"In any event," Minerva said, becoming more businesslike, "it's high time you were off to Gryffindor Tower to bed yourself.  It is almost curfew time, remember."  He nodded, and followed them out of the shadows of the doorway and down the hall, a slightly dejected look on his face.

Now the question came of what to tell him.  And when. 

"Mr. Potter…" she trailed off when she noticed Severus make a quick shake of his head.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Potter…if you would come to my office immediately after breakfast tomorrow?  You aren't in trouble," she added quickly, seeing his alarmed expression.  "There are simply some things I would like to discuss with you."

Severus looked satisfied, or at least until his lip curled up in a mocking smile. 

Self-mocking, she hoped.

But it didn't matter.  He was thirty years her junior, of course.

They dropped Harry off at the Fat Lady's corridor and loitered around the end of the hallway to see him safely through.  When Harry was asked the password, he drew an obvious blank, and Minerva called it out to him.

"Fuoco dolce."

He turned around and gave them a scrutinizing look, but then climbed through the portrait hole and disappeared without a backward glance. 

"That," Severus said in an offhand manner, "could have gone worse."

"Don't remind me," Minerva groaned, holding her forehead in her hand.  "I suppose we'd better go see if Albus is free yet…"

"I suppose so," said Severus. 

She gave him a scrutinizing look, and they continued down the hallway to the grand staircase. 

* * *