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.
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Professor Avonell awoke with a start. It took her several terrifying seconds to remember where she was. Sitting up she looked around the dark shadowy room. The fire had nearly died out and the heavy curtains at the windows had been drawn shut against the outside world. She could just make out a figure stretched out in the chair by the hearth.
"Severus?" she called softly, throwing the blanket off herself.
"No, it me," McGonagall answered as she yawned and stretched. She waved her wand and the fire sprang back to life. "How are you feeling?"
Avonell threw her legs over the side of the bed, trying to get her thoughts back into order.
"A bit stiff and sore, but otherwise ok," she sighed. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Only a couple of hours. Poppy wants you in the hospital wind as soon as possible. Are you able to walk?" her friend told her sympathetically.
Avonell shook her head, "not until I get some answers, Minerva," her tone told the McGonagall, there would be no argument on this.
"Very well," McGonagall replied giving in without a fight.
Avonell sat still for several seconds watching her friend, trying to assess the likelihood of getting a straight answer. The fire light cast shifting shadows over McGonagall's features, making her look far older then she was. Her eyes glistening with reflected light studied her with deep sympathy and concern.
"Where's Severus?" Avonell asked bluntly.
"Dumbledore sent him back to his own rooms," answered McGonagall, just as bluntly.
Good, Avonell thought, she wasn't going to have to wheedle the truth out of her.
"And Harry?"
"In the hospital wing."
There was a long silence, as Avonell considered what she had to say next. It wasn't going to be easy. She wasn't even sure how much McGonagall knew of what had happened, that Harry had been witness to the stream of memories that had flashed through her mind in those first few moments of consciousness. But it had to be known, and trying to be subtle about it wasn't going to help.
"Harry managed to establish a rapport. I don't know how he managed to do it, but he did and he knows, most if all of it," said Avonell in a trembling voice.
McGonagall sighed heavily.
"He's had a memory charm placed on him. He remembers none of what he saw in your mind," Dumbledore said from the shadows of the office.
Avonell jumped, turning towards the open entryway, trying to see into the gloom of the room beyond.
"No!" she snapped, "that won't work. Memory Charms won't give us more then a month or two at the most. And I will not have more of that barbaric spell cast on him! It does too much damage!"
"I have faith in the skill of the caster," Dumbledore said stepping into the room, his pale blue eyes fixed on her.
"Harry is only second generation, Albus. He'll break through that block in time. And each exposure to me risks his breaking through even more quickly. We have no choice, we must allow him the memory, or . . ." she paused for effect, hopping to impress upon him the necessity of what she was about to propose. "Or you allow me to enter into rapport with him and I will ward the memory."
Dumbledore shook his head, "and have you set a trigger for the memory to return later? I think not, Malana." He regarded her thoughtfully.
Avonell slid from the bed and walked unsteadily around the foot too face the Headmaster, meeting his eyes. She wasn't about to back down on this one. She had seen first hand the kind of damage repeated Memory Charms could do, and knew the amount of time and healing that it would require to correct that damage. She tried a different approach.
"He came by the truth honestly, please don't deny him this," she pleaded softly. "He's my grandson."
"But to allow him that truth, then we would have to allow him everything else he gleaned from you, and I can't have that, Malana," Dumbledore countered her calmly. "Do you truly think he is ready to deal with what has been done to you?"
This was not going to be an easy argument to win. Avonell looked back towards McGonagall, hopping for some sign of support. "Can any of us deal with that?" she asked quietly.
"We'll have to," McGonagall replied getting to her feet. "Why don't we go see Poppy?"
"That can wait," retorted Avonell turning back to Dumbledore, disappointed that her friend hadn't said more in her defense. "Albus, please, consider the damage that will be done, if a second Memory Charm has to be used."
"Madam Pomfrey wants to see you as soon as possible," Dumbledore soothed. "You may be pregnant . . ."
"Of course I'm pregnant," she cut him off sharply, becoming angry at his reluctance to see things her way. "Don't change the subject!"
"You know that for a fact?" Dumbledore asked raising an eyebrow.
"Albus, I'm a mid grade healer," answered Avonell, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Do you think I don't know what goes on in my own body?"
"All the more reason to see Poppy at once," he countered her.
Avonell snatched her robe off the end of the bed and swung it on. Maybe if she gave into this request, she'd have a better chance of getting him to see reason, and allow Harry the memory of his brief rapport with her.
"Only if you agree to at least consider what I'm saying about Harry," she said giving the belt of her bathrobe an extra tug.
"I will take it under advisement," he promised.
"Somehow, I think I just lost that argument," Avonell muttered to McGonagall as she allowed herself to be lead from her rooms.
***
Avonell sat awkwardly on a bed at the far end of the Hospital ward, as the medi-witch examined her. Harry lay asleep on a bed at the opposite end of the ward. He had been agitated after the charm had been cast and he had come round again, and had been given a sleeping draft. He was now peacefully oblivious to the goings on in the rest of the Hospital. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"Don't extend your senses," Dumbledore warned firmly, "I will not have you disturbing Harry at this time."
Avonell glared up at him. "It wasn't Harry I was trying to sense," she mumbled.
"It's definite," Madam Pomfrey said heavily, straightening up and looking down at Avonell with a mixture of disappointment and concern, "you are pregnant."
"I could have told you that," Avonell huffed indignantly, shifting slightly so that she could see down the row of beds more clearly.
"Poppy, can it be safely aborted?" asked Dumbledore soberly.
Pomfrey looked up at him and opened her mouth, but never got the chance to answer his question.
"NO!" shouted Avonell indignantly, turning back to them.
"I cannot allow Voldemort an heir," Dumbledore said more firmly.
"It doesn't matter who the father is," Avonell challenged, rising to her feet. Although quite a bit shorter then the Headmaster, she still had a commanding presence. "He's still my child, and I will not allow you to kill her!"
"Keep your voice down," the Headmaster warned his anger showing itself in both his voice and his eyes.
"If you abort this pregnancy," she spat through gritted teeth, though she kept her voice low. "Then you have not only killed me, but Severus as well."
Dumbledore stared blankly back at her.
"Voldemort charged Severus with making sure this pregnancy goes full term. If this child dies . . ." her voice cracked slightly as she spoke.
"I see your point," said the older Wizard thoughtfully looking at her through his half moon spectacles, "but you must understand the danger in doing so."
"I understand better then you think," sighed Avonell sinking back down onto the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. "Besides, so long as Voldemort believes I'm carrying his heir, I may be safe."
"How do you figure that?" Dumbledore inquired.
"If Voldemort believes that she's his child, I think he'll leave me alone," she explained softly, "I don't think he'll jeopardize this child's safety. After all, didn't he send me back to what is possibly the safest place in the whole of the Wizarding world at this time?"
"Yes," Dumbledore continued sitting down beside her. "But we can make him believe the child is still growing within you, even if we terminate the pregnancy now."
"No, Albus, please," she whined. "He's my child too. She deserves to live as much as any child."
"But the sooner it's done the easier it will be on you," Pomfrey finally spoke up.
Avonell looked up into the face of the Healer, not able to accept that she was agreeing with Dumbledore.
"Not you too, Poppy," Avonell cried, tears welling up in her eyes, "for Merlin's sake, you're a healer. How can you agree with this?"
Pomfrey looked back at her sympathetically.
"All right," Dumbledore sighed. "I can see how much this is upsetting you. We don't need to make a decision today. But we will need to come to terms with this very soon."
"Agreed," Avonell breathed wiping a tear from her cheek. Grateful for any additional time she could get out of him.
"We'll talk again tomorrow," Dumbledore said getting back to his feet. "Poppy will take good care of you in the meantime."
After Dumbledore had left, Madam Pomfrey pulled up a chair and sat down studying her, with compassion. Avonell hunched slightly in defeat, her mind racing with a thousand ideas and plans to keep Dumbledore from succeeding. Her eyes unfocused and she drew a long deep breath, willing the fatigue she was feeling to dissipate.
"As long as the Headmaster permits your pregnancy to continue," Madam Pomfrey started slowly, making Avonell return to the present. "I'll want to see you at least once a week."
"Poppy, this isn't the first time I've been pregnant," Avonell reminded her, pulling herself up into a more dignified posture.
"I understand, but I'd still feel better if I saw you once a week until I'm sure everything's ok."
Avonell nodded resigning herself to the Healer's wishes. She meant well enough, there was really no need to be upset with her.
"Now lie back and get some rest," the medi-witch told her sternly, before she stood and started towards her other patient.
Avonell flopped back into the bed, regretting that McGonagall had left so quickly after she had delivered her to the Hospital Wing. She needed someone to talk to. Someone she could confide in without the fear of divulging forbidden information. Why hadn't she guessed what Voldemort had had in mind, why hadn't she simply faked having been given the Kurr? And what of Severus? Where was he, why wasn't he here, or at least expressing some concern over her condition? He had not returned after following Harry from her rooms. She closed her eyes and sighed. Had she allowed herself to be sucked into some sort of conspiracy? No, she decided, it hadn't been that. She had spent too much time in intimate contact with Snape over the last few days, she would have known if he had not been totally honest with her.
She put her arm over her eyes and tried not to over think things. She was tired and still in some physical pain. She forced herself to calm her thoughts and turn inward, to the life now growing in her womb. How was she going to make them see the truth? There were so many secrets, so many half-truths.
***
Harry was confused. He remembered arriving back at Professor Avonell's office, with Ron and Hermione the previous evening, but nothing else until he had woken up in the Hospital wing. Dumbledore had explained how he had passed out and had been found on the floor in her office. But he had insisted that wasn't the truth, that something had happened, if he could only remember what it had been. He was sure it had been important that it was something he needed to remember.
He remembered Madam Pomfrey forcing the sleeping draft down his throat, telling him he needed to clam down and rest. And in the end Harry had stopped fighting and let himself drop off to sleep.
Now, fully awake, he looked down to the far end of the ward where the curtains had been drawn another bed. Sitting up and retrieving his glasses from the bedside table he wondered who it was. Slowly it came back to him. He Ron, and Hermione had been on their way back to the Entrance Hall and had been talking about what they had witnessed in Professor Avonell's bedchamber. He remembered Hermione telling them she believed the Professor had been raped. And of Snape's rage at finding . . . finding what? He shook his head, everything was out of order, he knew that, but he couldn't seem to get things back into their proper place.
"Good, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said as she emerged from behind the hangings at the far end. She strode purposefully toward him. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, "Who's in the end bed?"
Madam Pomfrey glanced back over her shoulder, "no one you need to be concerned with," she told him, hopping that he would not be able to tell she wasn't being completely truthful with him.
Harry looked intently at her. "It's Professor Avonell, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Pomfrey, remembering that she had been told not to offer information, but also not to lie to the boy. "But she's resting and I don't want you disturbing her."
Thankfully, Harry seemed satisfied with this.
"If you're feeling better, you may leave," she informed him, "but if you feel the slightest bit lightheaded, I want to know right away."
Harry nodded, getting out of the bed. He changed back into his robs quickly and left without another word. Once he was out the door of the Hospital wing, Ron and Hermione, anxiously hovering in the hallway, met him.
"They wouldn't let us in to see you," Ron explained in hushed tones.
"Is Professor Avonell in there?" Hermione asked nervously. "What happened to you?"
"Not here," whispered Harry drawing his friends back down the corridor. "Let's get back to Gryffindor Tower first."
The hurried back to the common room as fast as they dared, not wanting to be noticed by anyone who might stop them. In the common room they huddled together in a corner, talking in hushed voices. Ron and Hermione filling him in on what they knew and within a few minutes, Harry had all the events back in their proper order.
"So where did you go?" Ron asked impatiently.
"I went back to Avonell's office," he told them. "But I can't remember anything after that." He was frustrated, something was lurking just beyond his memory, trying to reveal its self, but he just couldn't seem to draw it out. "I know it was important, I really felt like it was urgent that I get back to her office. That there was something I needed to do . . . I just can't quite remember what it was." He flopped back in his chair and starred at the ceiling.
"Maybe it will come back to you latter," soothed Hermione. "Sometimes when I stop trying to remember something, it comes back all on its own."
Harry rubbed his eyes. Hermione was right, if he could just occupy his mind with something else, it might all come back to him. Resigning himself to the situation he remembered about the homework he and Ron still needed to do before class tomorrow. It didn't take much persuasion to convince Hermione to drop the subject and let them get to their homework.
***
No sooner than Madam Pomfrey had released her from the Hospital that evening, Professor Avonell had hurried back to her rooms, convinced that she would find Professor Snape waiting for her. When she found he wasn't there, she had changed and headed for his office. She arrived at the door to Snape's office slightly out of breath. Pausing for a moment to catch her breath before knocking. As she raised her hand to rap on the door there was a loud crash from inside, making her jump slightly. Taking a deep steadying breath she knocked.
"I told you I don't want to be disturbed!" Snape's muffled voice bellowed from the other side of the massive wooden door.
Checking that there was no one around to hear her she called back to him. "Severus, it's me. Please, let me in."
There was a moment's silence before the door was flung open. He regarded her rather coldly, his face pale and covered in a thin film of sweat. He stood with one hand on the door as if ready to slam it shut in a moments notice.
"What are you doing out of the Hospital?" demanded Snape as if addressing a disrobement student.
"I was released," she informed him pushing past him and entering the office.
The place was in complete disarray. A caldron lay on the hearth where it had been thrown its contents sill oozing across the floor, thick and sickly green. Crumbled parchment lay strewn across the desk and floor. Empty or spilled bottles of potion ingredients where scattered on the desk and worktable. The air was heavy with a rancid acrid smell. Snape too looked worse for the ware. He had splatters of something over the arms and down the front of his robes, and was still holding the remnants of a shattered glass stirring rod. The shelves looked as if they had been ransacked. Books had been pulled down and abandoned in chairs, on the desk and even one or two on the floor. This was not the cluttered but highly organized office of the Hogwarts Potions Master she was use to.
"What have you been doing in here?" she asked in a small voice as she took all of this in quickly.
"Nothing," Snape muttered with annoyance as the door closed with a resounding snap. He began absently shuffling the parchments and straightening the mess on his desk. "Why are you here?"
"I need to talk to you," she said simply, watching him as he gathered a stack of parchment, and walking to the fireplace, tossed them onto the flames.
He stood there watching as the papers curdled and burnt, as the embers were carried up the chimney by the hot currents of the fire. Even after the last of them had crumbled into ash, he remained motionless, his back to her his hands clasped behind his back.
"How can you stand to look at me?" Snape's voice was a low rumble making it hard for her to understand. "How can you tolerate being in the same room with me?"
She started towards him carefully stepping over a puddle of some dead and pickled thing on the floor. Snape moved suddenly away from her as if he thought she would strike out at him. Avonell stopped and looked at him, then around the office once more. He bent down and retrieved one of the discarded books from the floor and replaced it on a nearby shelf, still not looking at her.
"Why aren't you shouting at me? Why aren't you enraged?" Continued Snape after a long pause.
"I am not angry with you," she whispered in response, realization dawning in her. He blamed himself for what had happened to her, or at least felt responsible for not preventing it. "Severus, please . . . I don't hold you responsible . . . "
"He – raped – you!" bellowed Snape, his deep baritone voice reverberating off the stone walls, "he – put – his – mark – on – you! And I didn't stop him."
"You couldn't stop him," she corrected him gently. "Don't you understand that the way he did it, was more important to him, then what he did?"
Snape didn't answer.
"There are spells and enchantments far more reliable then the course of action Voldemort chose. But he chose the most brutal, sadistic, humiliating action possible. It wasn't just about securing an heir, it was about power, control, and pain," she let the room fall into silence before continuing. "Don't you see his purpose was to break me, and you? Voldemort meant for you to witness the act, to drive a wedge between you and I.
"You didn't hear the conversation in that bedroom before Voldemort arrived. Malfoy had told him he believed you had fallen in love with me, that you would try and protect me at any cost to yourself. Narsicca had overheard her husband bragging about what he had done, and was telling the old Seer about it."
She made another attempt to get closer to him, but he moved away from her advances quickly. She stopped where she was and studied him. He was no longer making futile attempts to straighten the office, he just stood there with his back to her. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He wouldn't even look at her.
"I'll leave," she said heavily, turning and picking her way back across the room to the door. And just as her hand touched the knob on the heavy wooden door to the hallway, Snape spoke again.
"Then its true, you're . . . pregnant?" he asked in barely a whisper.
She turned back to face him, considering her answer. He still had his back to her although he had turned his head slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes.
"Yes," she answered him slowly.
Snape shook his head, turning his eyes away from her again.
"But it's not what you think," added Avonell softly.
Snape turned to face her for the first time since she had entered his office.
"Malana, I sorry I allowed this to happen," he told her, his voice trembling slightly.
"I didn't come here for an apology, Severus. I don't need – want – your pity or remorse," she told him, her own words shaking as she uttered them.
"Then why did you come to me?" he asked hoarsely. "What is it you want from me?"
"To under stand and believe what I'm about to tell you," she replied letting go of the doorknob and taking one shaky step towards him. "It's – not – Voldemort's – child," she spoke these last four words as deliberately as possible forcing herself to remain calm. "Voldemort's Seer was a fool. She didn't understand how I am different."
"Then," he stared back at her disbelievingly, "who's?"
She smiled back at him, stiffening a laugh. He wasn't a stupid man; he just needed to hear it from her, she thought to herself.
"Yours," she breathed.
"But how can you be sure?"
"Severus, I'm not human, it works differently for me. I can't conceive on just one encounter," she explained, taking another tentative step towards him. "There must be a second encounter between 4 and 24 hours after the first. That's why I was ill the next morning. I know its not Voldemort's child, because I was already pregnant."
Snape walked unsteadily to a chair and sank down into it, looking away from her again.
"Why . . . why hadn't you told me?"
"Because," she started, moving to stand before him, "because, I was afraid."
He turned his dark eyes back to her, "afraid of what?" he breathed.
"Of . . ." she drew a sharp trembling breath. Confessions like this weren't easy for her, but she owed him the truth. "Of loosing you. Afraid of something going wrong, afraid of . . ." she sighed, "just afraid."
"I should have refused to take you to . . . if I had just not giving you . . ." he chocked looking away once more.
Avonell squatted down, instinctively putting her hands on his knees to steady her self. She gazed up into his pale drawn face trying to calm her own feelings of regret and fear.
"Should of's and if only's do nothing more the torment us. They can't change the past," she said evenly searching his face something. But she wasn't sure what she wanted to find there. "We have to forgive ourselves and move forward."
"I – don't know that – I can," he whispered weakly. Gone was the steely detached exterior. Gone were the sneers and sarcasm, what now sat before her confused man, full of regret and pain.
Lightly, she pushed off of him, allowing herself to sit back on the cold stone floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. The lingering fumes in the room burned at her eyes. Her throat constricted slightly, making her words sound chocked and hoarse.
"I know," she replied with difficulty, "I find myself thinking, can he ever see me as his lover again? Will we ever be able to touch each other again, and not think of this? And I'm scared, I am so completely terrified."
She bowed her head, resting her forehead on her knees, fighting back the tears and the pain. She was supposed to be the professional, but damn it, she was involved this time, it had happened to her as well. There was a soft scraping sound as the chair was pushed backwards. Then gentle warmth beside her, as Snape lowered himself to the floor. Hesitantly he put his arms around her and drew her to him. She didn't resist.
"I love you. I have always and will always love you," he whispered, some of the strength returning to his voice. He had stopped trembling and he held her more securely.
She rested her had on his shoulder, it didn't matter how trite that sounded, nor even if it was true. It only matter to her that he held her, and that for the first time since she had come to him, she felt calmer, her fear had begun to wane a little.
"I love you too," she whispered back, knowing that it was a cliché, but unable to think of anything else to say. He had always been reluctant to enter into rapport, or she would have sought one now. But she resisted the urge and eased her arms around him, permitting herself to take comfort in his embrace.
***
"Your intentions a very noble, Severus," Dumbledore said evenly, "but its just not possible."
Professor Snape stood before the Headmaster's desk. The older Wizard gazed up at him over his half moon glasses, his pale blue eyes studying the younger man intently. Snape stared back just as intently, trying to convey his determination. In the moment's silence the myriad of delicate instruments around the office filled the air with their soft whirring and clicking sounds. For the last half an hour, he had been trying to persuade Dumbledore to agree to his marrying Avonell and he was beginning to get angry at the other man's reluctance.
"Sir, if you won't do this for me, I'll find someone who will," said Snape sternly not allowing his composure to slip under the scrutiny the Headmaster was giving him. "Even if I have to go into the Muggle world to do it!"
This last statement had been unexpected. To the best of his knowledge, Severus Snape had never ventured into the Muggle world. The fact that he was willing to do so now, spoke volumes about his determination.
"Have you given this any thought?" Dumbledore inquired, still calmly watching Snape. "Do you realize the consequences of this?"
"Yes, I have," he answered evenly. Wondering how may more times he was going to repeat himself.
"And Malana, she has agreed to this?"
"Yes," he was getting tired of this, and was on the verge of giving up. But that would mean that Dumbledore had won, and he wasn't ready to concede the battle, yet.
"You are determined to go through with this?" Dumbledore asked again, still maintaining eye contact.
"What more do you want me to say?" Snape said tersely, "I've already explained my reasons."
"Would you run through those again?" Requested Dumbledore sitting back in his chair continuing to watch Snape of any sign of his true intentions.
"It legitimizes the pregnancy," Snape began shortly. He was beginning to understand why Avonell paced when agitated; it bled off some of the frustration. But he resisted it and stood his ground. "The Ministry will be less likely to force her into exile if she married. It will be awkward for the school to have an unwed mother on its staff," he paused for a heart beat. "It might give the Dark Lord a sense of security and keep him off our backs," he glared at Dumbledore. He had already gone into much more detail, but didn't see the use of doing that again.
"I have already spoken to Madam Pomfrey about aborting . . ." Dumbledore sighed.
"No!" snapped Snape, "that would not be wise Headmaster. That will only make the Dark Lord angry. Even Malana recognizes that!"
"In all of your explanations, I haven't heard the most important one, Severus," the Headmaster replied softly, as he steepled his fingers in front of him.
Snape raised an eyebrow at the older Wizard, "Sir?" he questioned.
"Do you love her?" asked Dumbledore sitting forward again his pale eyes seeming to boar directly into the younger man's sole.
"I . . . I . . ." for just a moment Snape's steely demeanor slipped. Caught off guard, he found it hard to answer this question. He was not comfortable letting others know that he was capable of such emotions. Regaining his composure he answered resolutely, "Yes, I do."
Dumbledore sighed deeply, closing his eyes for the first time since Snape had begun his argument. Dumbledore allow the ensuing quite to envelop him. He had meant for the two of them to settle their differences, maybe even to come to like each other, but he now wondered if that had been wise. Things had certainly taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. Or had they? What would a union between these two produce? Maybe, just maybe he had intended things to go this far. He looked back at the Potions Master.
"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore spoke in a soft weary voice. "Give me an hour, and I'll see what I can do."
Snape allowed him self to relax, and breathed a very small sigh of relief. He hadn't had to play his last card, the fact that the child Avonell carried was his. If Dumbledore was unaware that they had had an affair, then so much the better, as far as he was concerned
"I'll meet you in Professor Avonell's office," Dumbledore continue, his face reflecting his apprehension. "There are special wards on her rooms, it will be safer there."
"Thank you, Sir," Snape said inclining his head slightly, glade to have finally reached the end of this discussion. He was determined to go through with his plans, with or without Dumbledore's blessing. And where as he hadn't actually gotten the Headmaster's blessing, at least he had gotten his concession.
