Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

Author's note:  My many thanks to Ozma (if you haven't read her work, you're missing out!).  It is her personification of Argus Filch, which I have borrowed and used here.

----------------------

"What are you doing here Harry?" Avonell asked tersely, giving a reproachful look.

"I … I needed to talk to you," he stammered, still stunned by what he had just seen.

"You shouldn't be in here," she continued, giving the chain a slight tug and dislodging the necklace.  The mirror returned to being just a mirror.

"What is that?" he asked starring past her.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," she answered flatly

"Where were you?"

"I had business away from the school," her answer was curt.  "Now what is it you wanted?"

"My scar hurt," he replied dumbly.

"Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey," she was getting annoyed.

"No," he protested, following her into her office. "It usually means that You-know-who is near."

Avonell stopped and considered this, "then it might be better to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

"But . . ." her couldn't figure out how to continue.  She was right.  If Voldemort was near by, it made better sense to tell the Headmaster.

"How did you get in here?"  The Rune Teacher asked taking a seat behind her desk.

"The door opened when Schön came out," he told her truthfully.

"Hmm, I think I better have a talk with him," she muttered more to herself, then to Harry.

"I was worried," the teen continued, "you weren't at breakfast or lunch."

Avonell looked up at him with a serious expression on her face.

"Harry, where as I appreciate your concern, you needn't worry yourself about me," she said. "It would be a better use of your time to study."

"Speaking of studying," he grabbed hold of the opportunity.  "Can't I start before Wednesday?"

Avonell sighed.  She had walked into that one.

"Not really," she said, her voice sounding tired.  "I'm busy up until then.  In fact I have an appointment in a few minutes."

Harry nodded dejectedly.  "Ok," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry Harry," she replied, "but I do think you should speak to Professor Dumbledore, if you think Voldemort is involved."

Harry nodded again, only somewhat surprised that she had used the name.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Come," Avonell called.

Professor McGonagall opened the door and stepped in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize," she began hesitantly.

"Mr. Potter was just leaving," Avonell said giving the youth an apologetic look.

Harry left with out another word.  After he had gone and the door was closed, McGonagall turned back to Avonell.

"I thought perhaps Severus, was with you," she said.

"No," Avonell answered.

"He hasn't been seen today," McGonagall explained.

"Well, maybe he had a tryst," she suggested.

McGonagall looked a bit shocked at this.

"Well, it could happen," Avonell shrugged.  "Besides, I'm not Severus' keeper.  I've been at St. Mungo's all morning.  You did know I was going."

"How did it go?" McGonagall asked, genuine concern evident in her voice.

"It doesn't look good Minerva," Avonell said sadly.  "There's been so much damage, I just don't know how much I can help."

"But you will continue to work with the Longbottoms?"

Avonell nodded.  "I'll do what I can," she promised.

There was another knock at the door.

"That will be Neville," Avonell told the other woman.

"Will you tell him what you are doing?"

"No," Avonell said getting to her feet, "Dumbledore feels I shouldn't say anything unless I know for sure I can undo the damage.  And at this point, I just don't know."

She opened the door.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said to McGonagall.  She turned to the boy standing outside.

"You … you wanted to see m… me?" Neville stammered.

***

Avonell sat on the front steppes of the castle.  The night was warm and the sky clear.  As the lights from inside the castle faded the stars gleamed brightly.  This was one of her favorite things about Hogwarts.  Away from the light pollution of the large cities, the stars were brilliant, and even the misty cloud of the Milky Way was discernable.

Schön crawled up into her lap and curled up, kneading against her thigh.

"Beautiful night," she sighed, gazing up at the sky.  Schön began to purr.

"I thought I'd find you out here," it was McGonagall.  She appeared at the foot of the steps.

"Good evening, Minerva," Avonell answered dreamily.

McGonagall climbed the steps and sat down next to her friend.

"Any sign of Severus?" Avonell asked.

McGonagall shook her head, "not yet, but he's been gone like this before, when He-who-must-not …" she trailed off.  "Aren't you worried?"

Avonell shrugged.  "Severus is capable of taking care of himself," she said.  "My only concern is that my presences here might foul up Dumbledore's little arrangement."

"Then you don't approve?"  McGonagall asked in a soft voice.

"I don't approve or disapprove, Minerva.  But I've been a double agent myself, and it's a lot to ask of a person, to put their life at risk like this."

"He agreed to it, Malana.  He knew what he was getting himself into."

"It nearly got me killed on more then one occasion," Avonell continued.

McGonagall huffed unbelievingly.

Avonell laughed openly.  "I may be extremely long lived, Minerva, but I am quite capable of dying."

"Still," the other woman sighed, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I have no doubt."

The two women sat in silence for several minutes watching the night sky.

"Do you miss being out there, among the stars?" McGonagall asked breaking the silence.

"I'm always among the stars," Avonell chuckled, "no matter where I go.  It's all a matter of perception.  But I will admit, I've missed being here, on earth within the magical community."

"Good," the Transfiguration teacher said matter-of-factly, "maybe you'll stay longer this time."

Avonell smiled.

"Well, I've got papers to correct," McGonagall told her as she stood.  "Don't stay out too late, tomorrow is a school day," she scolded as if speaking to a student.

"I won't Professor," Avonell answered with a laugh. "Good night Minerva."

"Good night," McGonagall disappeared through the front doors.

Avonell stroked the sleeping cat in her lap, and gazed up at the star filled sky.

After nearly a half an hour Avonell sighed. "I guess we should be going in."

"Mow?" Schön answered sleepily.

"Oh don't complain," she started, but something caught her eye, a dark figure staggering its way across the lawn towards the castle.

As she watched, the figure stumbled and fell onto all fours.  It tried to standup, but collapsed into a heap.

With sudden recognition, Avonell sprang to her feet, dumping Schön onto the steps.

"Yeow!" the cat protested.

"Severus?" Avonell breathed.  She hurried down the steps and across to where the figure laid, face down.  Dropping to her knees she reached out and tried to roll him over.

"No," Snape groaned.

"What happened?" she asked placing a hand on his back.

Snape cried out in pain.  Avonell snatched her hand back, his robes were wet, and in the moon light she saw that the palm of her had was covered in blood.

"My God, Severus," she breathed. "What happened to you?"

"The … Dark …" he gasped.

"We've got to get you inside," she told him, her concern plain in her voice. "Can you stand?"

"Think … so," he answered.  His breathing was labored and speech was difficult.

Helping as best she could, Snape rose painfully to his feet.  He leaned heavily on her and after only a few steps; he sank to his knees again.

"Norru," she whispered and shimmering luminescent orb appeared in the palm of her hand.

Snape cringed at the light and turned his face away from her.  Avonell set the orb to hover a few feet away.  As gently as she could, she placed her hand under his chin and turned his face to her.  She gasped.  His lower lip had been split, his left eye as nearly swollen shut and badly bruised, and from the angle and swelling, his nose had been broken.

Snape closed his one good eye and turned away from her gaze; unable to face the pained expression she wore.

"Voldemort," he began softly, "Malana – he knows – you're here."

"Shhh," she soothed, "don't try to talk." 

She reached out to touch his forehead.

"No," he groaned miserably, pulling away from her touch, "no, I don't want you to see it."

"Severus," she whispered hoarsely withdrawing her hand, "I'm so sorry."

"Not … your … fault," he told her, turning back to face her.

"We've got to get you inside," she pleaded.

He nodded and struggled to his feet.  Supporting him with one hand under his elbow and the other around his upper arm, they moved slowly toward the front steps of the castle, the light orb moving ahead of them to light the way.  They had just reached the top step, when the front doors opened.  Argus Filch, the school's caretaker stood framed in the doorway.

"Great Merlin," he gasped,  "What happened to the Professor?"

"Argus, help me get Severus to the hospital wing," she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"No," Snape begged, "not there."

Filch moved to his other side and taking him in a similar manor as Professor Avonell, they moved Snape inside.

"Ok then, if not the hospital, then my office," Avonell told him

"No," Snape started to protest.

"I'll give you the choice, Poppy or me, but you are going to get medical help," her voice was stern; she was not going to argue with him.

Snape didn't answer.  He was becoming harder to support, growing weaker with each step.  At the top of the stairs to the second floor, he slumped to the floor.

"Let him rest a moment," Avonell told Filch. "Then we'll take him to my office, it's closer."

Filch nodded, his face grave with concern for his friend.

"I know who did this Professor," he said looking up at the Rune Teacher, "the Death Eaters can be very cruel."

After several heat beats, Filch spoke again. "Can't you levitate him the rest of the way?"

Avonell shook her head sadly, "Can't, it would require a wand, and I'm not permitted."

A meow echoed a shot distance down the hallway.  Schön, accompanied by the sleek Mrs. Norris appeared out of the darkness.

"Come on sweetheart," Avonell not paying attention to her choice of words, as she and Filch hauled Snape back to his feet. "Its not much further."

Snape rallied some and the three of them made their way arduously, towards Avonell's office, preceded by the pair of cats, and the eerie light orb.

At last they arrived at Avonell's office.  The door swung open at their approach and as they moved inside, the fireplace springing to life.

"Sit him on the ottoman," Avonell instructed.

Carefully they maneuvered Snape to the ottoman before the fire and sat him down.  He swayed severely, but Avonell caught him and steadied the stricken Potions Master.

"Noru showaah," she whispered and the light orb divided itself into to three, moving to illuminate the room is soft but bright light.

"Argus," she said in a low strained tone, "Help Severus get his shirt off, I'll be back in a moment."

Filch watched as the Professor tripped the secret entrance in the bookcase and disappeared into the room beyond. Then turning to Snape he began removing the wizard's robes, jacket and shirt.

"She means well enough," Filch said, "but can she handle this?"

"She is … a Doctor, Argus," Snape answered in a weak whisper, "I trust her."

When Avonell entered the office again she was carrying tray, on which were three bottles, several rolls of gauze and a number of other first aid supplies.  Filch interposed himself between the two Professors, before she could see the damage that had been wrought on Snape.

"It's bad, Professor," he told her his voice shaking, "They've hurt him worse then I feared."

Avonell looked at Filch intently.  He was visibly shaking and his complexion had grown very pale.  She nodded to him, "I understand," she answered him in a soothing tone.

Filch stepped aside.  Avonell nearly dropped the tray as a wave of nausea swept over her.  Crisscrossing Snape's back were six deep gashes.  Flesh, muscle, and sinew had been slashed by something sharp.  In several places, the bone of ribs and spine lay exposed.

"By the grace of . . ." her words were barely audible. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to compose herself,  "How barbaric."

Filch took the tray from her and carried it over to the small table beside Professor Snape.

"Argus, please, I'll need a basin of clean water.  Slightly warm preferably." Avonell's voice was weak and there was a slight tremor in it.

Filch nodded and hurried from the office.  Avonell watched him go, and then approached Snape.  She placed a gentle hand on one shoulder, but he winced at her touch.  Carefully she began inspecting his injuries.  His face and back were not the only areas tortured, his wrists where raw, obviously his hands had been bound, and a nasty burse on his chest bespoke of broken ribs.  She moved to stand in front of him.

"Severus, why?" she crocked.

"Punishment," he managed to answered not looking up at her, "because – I didn't tell him – you had returned." 

She squatted down and looked up into his battered face.

"But to do this to one of his own?" she reached up to brush the hair from his face.

Snape pulled away, nearly loosing his balance.  She steadied him again.

"I won't seek a rapport," she promised.

He nodded.  Gently she swept the hair from the left side of his face, and tucked behind his ear.  Snape winched in pain.  Avonell rose and move to look at a small wound just behind his left earlobe.

"Where do you want this?"  Filch had retuned with a large basin of water.

"On the floor, next to me," she answered absently.  "Argus, in the top right hand drawer of my desk is a pair of glasses.  Would you get them for me?"

Filch placed the basin next to the Professor, and then went to the desk.  He eyed the open computer with great suspicion, and retrieved the glasses from the drawer, staying as far away from this strange piece of technology as possible.

"What is it?" Filch asked, handing the glasses to Professor Avonell.

She put on the half glassed and waved one of the light orbs closer to illuminate the area in question.

"A small puncture wound." She stated curiously, "Severus, did Voldemort drug you?"

Snape didn't answer.

"This can't be," she murmured.  "It's just not possible!"

"What?" Filch asked moving closer for a better look.

"From the discoloration and condition of the flesh, it appears to be … Kurr, but…" she turned to face the Caretaker, "the plant it is distilled from hasn't existed for several hundred years," she paused.  "And it has never existed on Earth!"

Filched swallowed hard and backed away.  He had known of Avonell's origins, as far back as the first time she had come to Hogwarts.  But he was never comfortable when the subject was brought up.  She was Sevlorian, an ancient race of magically endowed, people from another planet.  There were those who believed that it was the Sevlorian race that had brought magic to Earth thousands of years ago.  He shook off his apprehension, he was more concerned now with the welfare of his friend, Severus Snape.

Avonell had turned back to Snape.  She pressed her fingertips into his carotid artery.

"Severus, listen to me," she started firmly, "you've lost a great deal of blood, and most likely have some internal injures as well.  Your heart rate has already become erratic.  I have to enter into a healing rapport . . ."

"No," he wailed.

"A healing rapport is different," she went on.  "There is no exchange of thought, no intrusion on the mind.  If I don't do this, you – will – die."

Snape shifted unsteadily and looked up into her face, the gravity of his situation was plainly evident in her eyes.

"Please Severus," Filch pleaded moving forward, "Let her do this."

Snape held her gaze for several moments, and then nodded weakly.  Avonell moved to stand behind him.

"Argus, I'll need you to stay here.  I mustn't be disturbed." She stated calmly.

"I understand Professor," he replied, feeling somewhat helpless.

Snape drew a ragged breath, closed his eyes, and waited.  Lightly she pressed the fingertips into his temples.  He exhaled slowly, as he felt her presence move toward him, around him, into him.  He was falling, slowly drifting downwards.  The pain was receding, ebbing away with each breath.  A feeling of such peace and serenity unlike anything he had ever known enfolded it self around him, his cares and worries melted like snow in the hot sun.  He was floating, as if supported by a warm breeze caressing his skin.  He was relaxed and at peace.

Filched sat in one of the chairs as Avonell touched Snape's temples.  He exhaled slowly, as she had moved her hands to his shoulders, easing him back to rest against her.  She supported his weight as his body went limp.  His breathing slowed, as did Avonell's.  The pain left Snape's face to be replaced with an expression of peace.  If he had not been able to hear his breathing, see his chest rise and fall with each breath, Filch would have sworn that Snape had died.  He was only vaguely aware of the clock chiming 11:00.

***

In the sixth year boy's dormitory of Gryffindor tower Harry awoke from a fitful sleep.  He reached for his glasses and sat up.

He had been dreaming of Professor Avonell.  There had been great pain, sadness, regret, but he could remember nothing else.  Why had he been dreaming about her?

He retrieved the letter he had received earlier that day, from the bedside table.  Moving to sit in the window, he opened it and read it yet again.

Dear Harry,

I have just learned that Malana Avonell is at Hogwarts again.  This is good.  Trust her, she will have your safety and welfare at heart.  If anything happens, if any danger arrases, seek her company.  She is a powerful and kind woman.  Learn what ever she offers to teach you. 

I can tell you no more then this, you are important to her, trust her Harry, she will know what to do.

As ever,

Serious.

He still didn't know what it meant.  He had trusted Professor Avonell almost from the moment he had first met her.  But why would he be important to her?  She hadn't been impressed with his scar, his fame or the fact that he was considered a hero.  But Serious' letter said she would have his safety at heart.  Why would a Witch from America care about his welfare?

He folded the letter and returned it to the drawer in the table.  He considered getting out the invisibility cloak and stealing his way down to her office.  But it was late, after 11 o'clock, would she even be there? 

Questions swarming in his head, he returned to bed and tried to sleep.

***

For nearly two hours, Filch had sat awe struck as the injuries on Snape's body had faded and finally disappeared.  He had watched as the Potions Mater's and Rune Teacher's breathing had fallen into unison.  He would not have been surprised to know that their heartbeats had done the same.

Snape blinked, and the world came back into focus.  The astonished, wide-eyed, open-mouthed face of Filch stared back at him.  Snape's brow furrowed, as he tried to make sense of things.  One minute he had been floating, completely at peace, perhaps for the first time in is life, the next he was being stared at as if he had three heads.  Someone's hands rested feather light on his shoulders, warm and trembling ever so slightly.  He was leaning back, resting against that someone, he could feel them breathing, could almost here their hearts beating.

Reality flooded back and he remembered where his was and why he was there.  He sat upright.  Had she done it?  Had Avonell succeeded in healing him?

Gingerly he touched his lip; there was no pain, no split.  His eye, there was no swelling and he could see out of it.  His nose was back to normal.  He held his hands out and saw no rawness around his wrists.

"Sweet Merlin," Filch whispered, "she did it."

"A mirror," he demanded.

"In the bed chamber," Avonell answered softly.

Snape scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the open entrance, not bothering to even look at the woman who had just done the impossible.

Filch rose slowly.  "If I hadn't seen it for my self," he said looking toward the open bookcase, "Couldn't even say thank you."

Avonell sighed.  "It's typical for the first time, there's usually a great deal of disorientation," she told him, "Argus, would you be so kind as to fetch a change of clothing for Professor Snape?"

Filch nodded and took a step toward the door, but stopped and turned to face the Rune Teacher again.

"Thank you Professor Avonell," he said.

She smiled, "Please Argus, I would prefer it if you were a bit less formal.  My first name is Malana, you are welcome to call me by that."

Filch grinned.

Snape had found the hand mirror on the dresser, and now stood with his back to the ornate full-length mirror, holding the smaller one so that he could see his back.  Only the faintest of red makes betrayed where once deep wounds had been.

My God, he thought to himself, She's done it, he glanced at the inside of his left forearm.

"It's still there," Avonell assured him her voice low and soft, "I didn't remove His mark."

He hadn't realized she had entered the room. 

"You've done it," he breathed.  With one final look in the mirror, he razed his eyes to the woman who had brought him back from the threshold of death. "but at what price?"

Avonell looked dreadful.  She leaned against the bedpost for support, her shoulders hunched, her face drawn and sullen.  Her heavily lidded eyes were dull, lacking their usual sparkle, her skin pale and ashen. The front of her dress, smeared with dried blood, his blood.  For the fist time he had ever known, she looked weak and vulnerable.

"Malana, what's wrong?"

She tried to smile, but was to exhausted to do so.

"Nothing," she sighed weekly, "that sleep will not cure."

She tried to move to the side of the bed, but her legs gave way beneath her.  Snape rushed to her, catching her and gently lifting her to lie on the bed.  He leaned over her, gazing down into the placid sleeping face. Tenderly he brushed a lock of hair from her face, not knowing what to do, but wanted to do something. 

Schön jumped onto the bed and began nuzzling her hand.

"Let her be," Snape told the cat, shooing him away.

"What have you done to Miss Malana!" shrieked a small voice.

Snape straightened up with a snap and turned toward the source of the screech, realizing with some embarrassment that he was still bare-chested. In the opening to the office stood the house elf Izzy, her eyes wide her hands covering her mouth.

"He's done nothing," Filch growled pushing past the elf.

"She's just asleep," Snape told the house elf.  "She's not to be disturbed, do you understand?"

Izzy nodded, her bat like ears flapping.  "Izzy will take care of Miss Malana."

Snape shook his head as Filch handed the change of cloths to him.  He took the shirt and swung it on.  "I'm staying with her."

"NO!" Izzy squealed, "Professor Snape will not stay!"

"Do not argue with me," Snape snarled advancing on the elf. Izzy shrank back. "She cannot defend herself.  I suppose you could defend her if the Death Eater come back?"

Izzy shook her head vigorously and retreated back into the office.

"Are you sure?"  Filch asked.

Snape nodded, "it's the least I can do Argus."

Izzy returned pushing the ottoman.

"Then Professor Snape will sleep in the chair," she told him sternly.

***

The morning dawned rosy pink.  Professor Avonell stirred and Schön uncurled himself at her side.  She sat up and looked around.  Snape was still asleep in the chair by the fireplace.  He had turned the chair to face the bed, his feet propped on the ottoman, the blanket draped across one shoulder.

"Has he been here all this time?" she asked Schön in barely a whisper.

The cat responded with a silent meow.

She glanced down at herself, her dress covered in dried blood.  Quietly she slid off the bed and moved to the wardrobe and removed another dress.  Slipping into the bathroom, she cleaned and tidied her self and changed into the fresh dress.  Returning to the room she walked to stand beside the sleeping Snape.

"Severus," she called softly.  He shifted in the chair.  She squatted down by the side of the chair, "Severus, wake up."

He opened his eyes halfway.

"Good morning," she smiled.

Snape smiled and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "You're looking better," he said softly.

Propping her elbow on the chair arm, and her chin on the palm of her hand she met his eyes.

"You know, you should smile more often," she told him, "you have a very alluring smile."

A hint of pink tinged the Potions Master's checks.  Had he just blushed or had it only been the pink of the sunrise reflecting in his face.

"I'm headed for the Great Hall," Avonell said patting him on the arm, "I don't know about you, but I need to eat."  She stood and started for the archway,  "What I'd really like is a good cup of coffee."

Throwing the blanket off of him, Snape scrambled to his feet.

"Malana, thank you," he called after her, "for healing me."

"Hmm," she chuckled turning back to him, "I'd tell you any time, but then you might take me up on it."

Snape looked puzzled by her flippant remark.

"We are fighting on the same side Severus," she sighed,  "I would have hated to loose such a valuable asset."  She turned, not seeing the scowl her gave her.

-----------------------

Note to my readers.  And I know you're out there, I can see the number of hits going up.  Please take a moment and let me know what you think.  Your opinion is important to me. 

Thanks!