Chapter Eight: Belladonna Bloom

She wrapped the woolen blanket more closely about herself, forcing another glance at Dumbledore's sad, lined face. His eyes danced in the firelight, twinkling in a way heavier and duller than she'd ever seen.

He'd listened without a single movement save summoning the blanket to her shivering body. When she'd finished, teeth chattering, on the verge of frantic suffocation, he'd merely nodded, sent for McGonagall, and stared, silent, into the fire.

Somehow, seeing him like that made the despair sink deeper beneath her skin than the chill of her sodden robes.

"Headmaster—" she said, biting her bottom lip and attempting to keep her voice smooth over the crackling fire. "Don't you think—we need to do something?"

"Of course, Miss Lee. I've sent Professor McGonagall to round up the other teachers and send an urgent owl to the Ministry."

She swallowed. "Have you looked over the papers?" She knew very well that he had not but could think of no gentler way of urging him to do so.

He shook his head and continued gazing into the fire, blue eyes battling with the orange of licking flames.

Lili stood, blanket still wrapped about herself, and crossed the room to his desk. She picked up the papers and began reading them aloud, trying to detach herself from the words.

"Elizabeth Lee's division, 150 strong. 10 Death Eater loyals. 20 Dementors. 10 giants (5 paid mercenary).  4 Langanores. 12 Black Orcs. 17 Shadow-eaters—"

The door creaked open behind her, and a pale haggard face peered in.

"Albus?"

"Come in Remus," Dumbledore sighed, turning from the fireplace and making for his desk. He took the papers from Lili's hands and began reading for himself.

Lupin entered, Professor Sprout close behind. Then Flitwick, looking most disconcerted, and behind him Madame Hooch glowered, fierce as usual.

Lili's eyes scanned the entering professors closely, watching. Binns, Sinistra, Hagrid…where was he?

Professor Trelawney was the last to enter, hair wrapped in an elaborate purple and red turban, slender-fingered hand on her temples, rubbing as if easing a horrible pain. "Oh! I knew something was bound to happen tonight! I've been seeing signs in my tea leaves for weeks…"

Professor McGonagall returned just in time to hear this and shut the office door with a rather loud thwack.

"Yes, Sibyll, indeed something has happened," Dumbledore said, replacing the papers and threading his fingers loosely over frowning lips. "Something very—serious."

Lili glanced around only once more, trying desperately to find him. But it was difficult to see past Professor Sprout's robust figure, and Dumbledore's words quickly diverted her thoughts.

He'd begun by explaining her situation, and she sank low into the chair, hoping not to draw much attention as he recounted the events of two years previous. Occasionally, she felt a gaze slide over her, but mostly, the teachers concentrated on the Headmaster, seeming to sense what was coming…

Once he had stopped speaking of her, Lili ventured a look around the room, trying to gauge the professor's reactions. McGonagall looked grim; no doubt Dumbledore had already revealed to her the full severity of the situation-- she certainly looked it. Sprout seemed on the verge of tears, and one of Professor Flitwick's tiny hands patted her on the shoulder as he listened, intent. Hooch's hawkish eyes flashed while Lupin's seemed dull and sad. Everyone else merely watched, quiet and stunned, seemingly unable to believe their ears. She herself was only just now coming to terms with the idea that, in a few hours, this castle would be a battleground…

"So, as you no doubt agree," Dumbledore said, his voice rasping as he finished his explanation by leaning slightly on his desk, "this is a grave situation indeed. Professor McGonagall has sent an owl to the Ministry requesting every Auror they can spare." He paused, letting his heavy, dull gaze filter across each of the teachers' faces. "But, of course, they may not be able to receive the owl and mobilize in time for—the first wave of attack."

Yes, he'd seen enough of those papers, Lili thought, pushing away a drop of sweat beading on her forehead. She glanced up in time to see the professors' expressions darken even further. First wave. No, this was no rag-tag bunch of Death Eaters; it was an army. A formidable army. She wiped again at her sweating brow, releasing the woolen blanket from its close, hot embrace.

"Headmaster," Lupin intoned after a humid pause. "I think, given the fact that reinforcements might not arrive in time for the—initial attack, we should consider utilizing some of the prefects and seventh years in our defense. On a voluntary basis of course."

The air burned like smoke in her mouth, and she noticed several professors hold their breaths, equally stifled at this suggestion.

Sprout let out a withered cry. "They're children, Albus. We can't ask them to fight, to battle like soldiers risking their lives—"

"Professor." Her voice, after years of practice, managed to ring with a composure she knew she didn't possess. "If you'll excuse me for saying so, those children won't have any lives left if Hogwarts gets taken. And I don't think some twenty professors are going to be able to stop an army as large and well-organized as—" She stopped. No need to say the name. No need to let them know how desperate things really are…

She sank back into the chair, reminded of the heavy pressing in her heart.

"Miss Lee is right," Dumbledore said, standing straighter and attempting a consoling twinkle in Sprout's direction. "It's a deplorable situation, but I can see no other options. The Dark Lord's army is strong, and while there are many special forces protecting Hogwarts, I cannot guarantee that the Dark Lord has not learned of them during his time on the premises some years ago. I can also not guarantee that he has not learned ways to counter them…"

"Yes. I understand. I just wish—"

Dumbledore offered her a heavy smile. "We all do, my dear. We all do." His voice faded into a distant silence, and Lili could tell from the many glazed expressions and loose frowns that the teachers had become lost momentarily in their own thoughts—their own visualizations of what was to come…

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat slightly, stepping forward as if urging the conversation on. "I will vouch for the Gryffindor prefects and seventh years willingness, but—" She hesitated, eyes flitting askance before continuing. "Well, can all the houses be…counted on…to remain—" She stopped, but her point was clear enough.

Though weary, Lili nevertheless felt herself bristling. There had been, of late, quite a few cases of older Slytherins confessing to attempts at joining the Dark Lord. The case that week had been highly publicized, and now, more than ever, Slytherins had fallen prey to skeptical eyes and whispered rumors. She was sure McGonagall wasn't the only one harboring fears of being betrayed by Salazaar's house in battle.

Fists clenching, Lili stood and began to respond.

It was not her voice, however, that answered, and, hearing the deep, threatening silk, her own words choked dry in her throat.

"If, Minerva, you are referring to Slytherin and its loyalties, you might care to note that, if it weren't for a certain Slytherin here, we wouldn't even know what was coming..."

Professor Sprout stepped back slightly, revealing the gaunt, black-robed form leaning against the far wall, flanked by the comparatively radiant red of Fawkes. His long, slender fingers were entwined in the bird's bright feathers, the circles usually dull gray under his eyes now seemed a deeply entrenched brown.

"Yes, Severus is quite right," Dumbledore said, stepping over towards Lili and laying a warm hand on her shoulder. "Miss Lee has brought us this information at great personal cost. We owe her and Slytherin house a good deal of gratitude and respect." His eyes twinkled down at her in the way that had always made her feel safe. Even now, she marveled, she saw in those eyes a strength and a hope that forced her hands to stop trembling.

Dumbledore gave her another quick smile before releasing her and returning to the professors. "Now is not the time for mistrust or house rivalries. We must gather together and immediately. Madame Hooch, I'll need to you to begin rounding up all the prefects and seventh years willing to fight. Professor Lupin, I hope you'll give them a bit of training, if you can, and then help Filius set up some wards on the castle walls. And remember, they'll have some experts with them, so make them difficult to break. Poppy—"

Lili watched as Dumbledore called on each of the staff members, sending them off bustling in preparation. They all agreed—brief nod, wide eyes—and hurried out.

"Severus."

Snape stood straighter, pulling his fingers from the phoenix delicately. His eyes only brushed her before falling on Dumbledore.

"Severus, I'm sure you'll have all those potions the Ministry's been asking you for. Gather those and distribute them. Find whatever you might have prepared or anything in your personal stores that might be of some use."

Snape nodded but, hesitating a moment, kept his eyes on the Headmaster.

"Is something wrong, Severus?"

His face remained flat, and he took a deep breath before answering, low. "I was wondering if Miss Lee might assist me. We might be able to get a little last minute brewing done, and I'm sure she—"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said, waving his gnarled hand as if refusing to hear further justification. "Miss Lee?"

Lili nodded and crossed the room in several hurried strides. He stood far taller than her, eyes staring down over his hooked nose.

The Dark Lord's hissing voice rattled through her ears, a rumbling memory.

Severus. Snape.

Unconsciously, her hand balled, the metal on her ring finger cool against her palm.

What could she say? Had he guessed? She swallowed, trying to find the words to tell him. You're doomed, Severus. The Dark Lord is looking for you, he'll find you, and—

But he gave her no time. He turned, robes rushing up around him like a storm cloud, and plunged down the stairs out of sight, footfalls heavy and frantic as thunder.

Hesitating, Lili turned to glance one last time at the Headmaster, but he was not paying attention. Slumped over his desk, he was examining the papers once more, gnarled hand cradling his forehead.

"Albus?"

It was the voice of Sibyl Trelawney, who sat, quite forgotten.

The Headmaster looked up.

"Albus, what can I do?" Her normally shrill and airy voice, seemed to echo, all at once, with the quiet strength of a prophet's.

He nodded grimly. "Consult your crystal, Sibyl. Keep me advised."

Tears again stinging her eyes, Lili turned and threw herself towards the stairs, towards the dungeons, refusing even a second to feel the teeth of reality that pressed, nipping, at her heels.

************************

She crawled backwards out of the dusty cabinet, coughing but vial in hand.

"What is it?"

It took her a moment to stifle the cough, brushing some more dust from her robes. "Another exploding elixir."

"What's that make?"

She looked down the tables, counting silently. "Uh, it looks like thirty-one exploding elixirs, sixteen fog formulas, thirty-seven acid throwers, forty-five petrification serums, six Alleviolixirs, and, uh, three blasting brews."

Snape said nothing, merely looking up from his crouched position at the opposite cabinet and tabulating distractedly.

He had spoken of nothing but potions since they'd burst into the dungeons. Part of her was glad to be distracted for a time. Another part, however, wanted to talk to him about—what was coming…

Snape stood and floated across the room, opening a high cabinet and digging through it intently.

"There should be more exploding elixirs somewhere…"

She turned and moved on to the next cabinet, digging through several batches marked as the third years' attempts at shrinking potions, searching for anything that might prove useful.

"I assume he knows about me."

The words caught her off guard, slicing through the dungeon air.

"Yes."

"Have you considered why he made you one of the four captains?"

She hadn't expected this question, and crawled out of the cabinet slightly, looking up at him. "N-no. Why? What are you—thinking?"

He allowed his dark eyes to flicker down at her before returning to his search. "It just seems odd that he would have chosen you, a servant of two years, when there were still several who'd served him long before…"

Her hand reached back to the cold stones of the dungeon floor for support. Her heart lurched, and she could hear in his voice something very serious. "What are you saying? Do you think he—" She paused, sure to steel her voice. "He knows about me as well?"

The clattering of dusty vials stopped, and Snape turned, abandoning the cabinet altogether. Shadows littered his face. "I think he suspected. Tonight was a test."

No longer trusting her own strength, Lili sat back against the cabinets, bringing her shivering hands to her head. Fear gripped her heart, but it gave her little time to dwell on it, another chilling thought running hard upon.

"So—then mightn't it be a trick? He tells me we're attacking Hogwarts and then, when all the Aurors get here, he hits the Ministry?"

Snape leaned against one of the tables weakly looking suddenly very tired. "No, I've no doubt the attack is genuine. A ruse of that sort wouldn't be his style: it smacks of cowardice, and he wants the final showdown. He hasn't amassed that army for nothing."

Her heart was beating so loudly she could barely make out Snape's low voice over the slow rumble in her ears.

"And besides, everything he wants is here." Snape's hands abandoned the vials, and he met Lili's eyes, wrapping his dark gaze around her heart. "Me, you, Dumbledore—" He paused. "But he did use you to get all the Aurors in one place. And I have no doubt that group will include—"

"Potter." She was barely able to whisper the name.

Snape nodded grimly.

Of course. It was so clear to her now. Her mind filled with the glances of Malfoy, of Macnair, the Dark Lord. They'd all known.

Happy Birthday, Missss Lee, she heard him hissing in her ear. She felt his hot breath on her face. He'd known…

"But how…how could he have known…"

Snape shrugged, glancing at her uneasily, then looking away. "Who knows? Maybe Junia—"

"No, if it'd been Junia, Draco never would have been allowed to tell me about the name they'd gotten from her," she interrupted, mind whirring. "He'd never even have been sent to me. No, it had to have happened sometime after that."

"And before the night of Draco's wedding, when he suspected something—between us—"

Lili nodded. She had seen Snape only one time between Draco's visit to her apartment and that night at Malfoy Manor.

The Café.

Her mind hit on Olivia, but she quickly dismissed the idea. That girl was barely able to walk and chew gum at the same time: the life of a double agent wouldn't have suited her.

"Then it must have been some passer-by around the café that night," she sighed, trying to remember any face she'd seen. "A fluke. A stroke of—"

She fell off, all her veins frozen, blood turned to ice.

Snape turned his eyes to her, brow furling. "What? What is it?"

"Olivia's boyfriend," she muttered, remembering his spectacled face, his mole-like eyes and his odd surprise at seeing Lili and Snape there. "It had to have been him. Voldemort kept mentioning a contact within the Ministry, one that had been very helpful…"

Snape's lips drew back in disgust. "DEMA," he spat, letting his flashing eyes drift over the vials on the table.

"He must have seen us there together, and, knowing about you, told the Dark Lord of our suspicious meeting." She sighed, and moved her massaging hands down the knots of her neck. "And, no doubt, because I swore her to secrecy, Olivia told him that we were romantically involved. Oh, for Merlin's sake, trust her to find the only spy at the Ministry…"

Snape snorted, obviously unsure of what to say.

Her whole body was soaked in weakness, heavy and resigned. Suddenly the visions in her mind were of her body atop Snape's corpse, beaten, mutilated dying slow…

It's only a matter of hours now, Lili. Soon, it will all be over in a blaze of curses and pain and the cracking of bones, the bursting of veins…

She was too numb, too tired, to register any of the emotions she knew must be burning somewhere in the back of her mind. She pushed herself up from the ground, pushing the thoughts away.

As she learned. As he taught you.

Snape's eyes accidentally grazed hers, and the two looked away, trying to find something—anything--to busy themselves once more.

"I swear there are more exploding elixirs than we have here." Despite his attempts to keep his voice level, it quavered slightly.

"I haven't checked your office stores yet. I'll look."

She was half way in his office, fingers wrapped through the handles of his personal cabinets, before he could object.

Opening them, she saw why.

On the top shelf, glowing dully, a small clear vial filled with dark purple liquid seemed almost to hum, standing out from the strange concoctions sitting innocent around it. She pulled it down carefully, noting the black diamond capping it, glittering stern in the torchlight. 

It was warm to the touch, and even through the glass of the vial, she could smell it, the thick scent of spice and flowers and--something else. Something entrancing…

Snape stood frozen in the doorway, looking at her as she cradled the bottle in her palm.

Lili's heart ached, the vial seeming so hot she was afraid the flesh of her hands might begin to sizzle.

He said nothing, refusing to look away.

"Belladonna Bloom." She could barely whisper.

She swallowed, her throat dry, tight. Her mind had not even needed a moment to understand the potion's meaning.

Her knees creaked with the threat of giving way, and she leaned against the cabinet in some attempt to remain standing.

Pictures and text from Complex Concoctions fed through her mind as if on a reel of film.

Belladonna Bloom. Invented by Julius Caelius approx 58 C.E., the formula, while very difficult to make is one of the greatest breakthrough poison potions in existence. The potion sedates the drinker, taking hold of every vital organ and shutting it off, individually. The dulled drinker feels nothing but a euphoria before, slowly, the potion shuts down brain functioning, and the drinker dies. Because of its painless nature, this potion has been traditionally used not only as a poison but as a means of suicide

She met his eyes.

"Lili—"

"This." It was a hoarse whisper, but enough to silence him. "This was your plan?"

He stepped back, looking somehow mortally wounded.

"I—"

"Your plan was to kill yourself?" Her muscles stiffened, her voice boomed, and Snape's thin form threatened to be toppled.

"I—"

"You were just going to come in here, drink this, and then the next morning I'd get an owl from Dumbledore— And you thought you'd just die, noble, tragic—" She squeezed the burning bottle in her palm, feeding on the hot pain.

Snape didn't attempt to speak again.

"And you'd leave me here, alone!" She felt close to breaking, her skin taut, ready to rip open at the seams. "How could you even think—how could you—" She tried desperately to regain some bit of composure, but her heart, in defiance of all the tricks and demands of her mind, wailed out.

It turned in the tight, aching sinews of her chest, realizing.

"That letter you sent me," she whispered, gaping at him. "It was…it was a suicide note. You were giving me this to have after you—" She raised her trembling hand, and the ring sparkled obscenely at her.

The words of the letter came back, in a rush. I appreciate your keeping this—and indeed, all the things you have done for me.

She closed her eyes, but images still snaked through her mind, biting at her heart. He was lying on the floor of his office, limp. Who would have found him? Probably Filch. Or one of his students. Or maybe—if she'd come just a second later from the Manor—maybe she'd have found him there, lying across those gray stones, dark eyes open but unseeing, pale skin cold and tinted purple from the potion…

"Lili, I had no choice." His voice, flat, seemed to strike her hard. "They knew about me. And if they'd taken me, they'd have forced me to talk, to tell them things."

She couldn't even look at him, trying to hide in the darkness of her veiling lids, trying to ignore the burning in her throat that begged her to release the sobs and curses and tears...

"I would have told them your name."

The breath she took seemed to burn all the way through her body.

"I couldn't figure out another way. I didn't want them to find out about you, and then—" He swallowed, and stretched himself to his full height, feigning the composure of the Potions Master. "I had nightmares. I saw you tortured, mutilated. My life was over. It should have been over long ago. But you didn't have to die yet and—" He paused and shifted his long robes about his arms. "Sometimes one must make sacrifices in order to protect people one—cares about—"

Her swollen heart twisted again. Each word hit her: a knife and a caress.

Snape stiffened, meeting her eyes awkwardly.

Shaking, aching, she threw the vial to the floor, and the explosion of glass screeched through the air, smoke rising as purple liquid sizzled into the flagstone.

She stood for a moment, watching the purple drain and fizzle over the tiny, diamond shards of glass. Thoughts tumbled in her head, emotions jostled in her heart, demanding attention.

The images of Snape lying across the floor, still, halted in her mind, and his words hit closer to her heart.

She stomped on the glass violently, grinding it to dust beneath her feet.

Sometimes one must make sacrifices in order to protect people—

The remaining words formed a noose around her heart, squeezing it mercilessly.

One cares about.

She met Snape's eyes once more, and he watched her, sad and distant.

Without another word, she dashed from the office, and, grabbing several vials in her arms, left Snape in the dungeons, staring down at the broken shards, alone.

Outside the rain had stopped, but thunder rolled loud on the horizon.