~Anne~

His voice rippled against my ear, a rich stream of words and warm breath. I couldn't seem to regain control of my breathing, my chest felt tight and sandy, my head throbbed...I was acutely aware of his hands on my arms, the pressure of his chest against my back.

I gasped. I felt like I was drowning. I shook my head against his chest. "I'm not sick."

He sighed impatiently. "No, Professor. I suppose this is some sort of odd Turkish custom, nearly fainting in hallways." He turned me to face him, still gripping my arms. He studied my face calmly. "You need rest and Healing."

I shook my head again, pushing at his hands. "No. I don't need to go to the infirmary. I'll be fine, Severus. It's just a little cough– it's probably the weather." I tried to walk away from him, but the corridor reeled and rocked beneath my feet. He caught me again, this time lifting me into his arms in a single efficient motion.

"I disagree, Professor. Classes start in a few days; that should be sufficient time to get you back in good health."

He strode down the corridor. My head felt like a lead ball at the end of my neck. I peered around us, confused.

"Severus." He ignored me.

"Severus, you're going the wrong way. My rooms are back that way." I tried to point; it was easier to let my arm dangle.

"I am aware of the location of your rooms, Professor. I need access to my office to create the proper potions. Therefore, I am taking you to my rooms."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She dreams, deep and terrible memories, blasted by sand and an unforgiving wind. She is alone in the desert in a raging storm, the wind ripping at her robes and driving sand into every opening. Her hair is torn from the veils, wrapping around her head, blinding her. A dark shadow rises out of the solid wall of sand, reaching for her. She lunges toward the figure, knife in hand and is seized by a hundred taloned hands. She fights against them, slashing out with her knife. The sand is hot, pouring into her mouth and nose, smothering her, crushing her chest with its weight. She tries to scream as the hands drag her backwards into the dunes...

Snape stood over the woman on his bed, watching her dream. He stared into a silver bowl, eyes scanning the image within; he could see her dream as clearly as she could. He watched her fight against the grasping hands, her form on his bed wrestling with entangling sheets. He set the bowl down as Madame Pomphrey hustled into the room, carrying a tray of bottles and vials.

"I do wish you would let me move her, Severus. She seems to be worsening." The small woman laid a hand against Anne's forehead.

 "She's eaten up with fever. She needs constant care."

Snape waved dismissively. "I assure you, Madame Pomphrey, she is in good hands. She will not die." She glanced at him furtively, studying his face with keen eyes.

"Well then. I'll just leave these things here. They may be useful to you." She set the tray down on a bedside table and scurried out of the room. He rummaged through the items on the tray, more to keep his hands busy than from any real desire to examine its contents. He started, dropping the tray with a great clatter as a scream echoed from the bed behind him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~Anne~

I leapt away from the hands clutching at my hair and robes. As a scream tore out of my throat, I sat upright among a tangle of bedclothes. Where was I? I stared frantically around the room, trying to find the things that had grabbed me.

"Professor Llewellyn." A deep voice flowed over me; a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

"Anne."

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, looking discomfited and extremely worried. I gasped for breath, fighting the oppressive liquid weight inside my chest. "What time is it?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "I am not sure. It's Friday."

I shook my head. "That can't be right. It's Tuesday. The students just arrived..." I trailed away at the look on his face.

"I assure you, it is Friday. You have slept– or something like it– for three days. Do you remember? You collapsed outside the common room."

I struggled with my memory, only vaguely recalling that night. "Why do I feel so...awful?"

"It seems that you have managed to contract a particularly nasty strain of the flu." He leaned over to the table, pouring an orange liquid into a tall glass. He handed me the glass, helped me to sit up enough to drink it. I winced slightly as the acidic liquid trickled down my throat.

"Unfortunately, quite a few of the students, as well as several professors, have fallen ill. Apparently, the disease is running rampant outside Hogwarts also. Fortunately, Madame Pomphrey seems to have the illness well under control." He took the glass from me, setting it carefully back on the table.

"You will most likely spend another week in bed."

"But classes, Severus. They start on Monday– I have to teach–"

He cut me off. "Have no concerns, Anne. Albus has postponed the start of classes until all of the faculty have recovered." He pushed me back against the pillows.

I reached for the glass again; he shifted it into my hand. As I raised the glass to my lips, I was suddenly aware that I was not wearing the same clothing I had on the night of the Sorting ceremony. My hand twitched up to my head; my veil was also gone. My hair had been twisted into a single long braid that lay over my shoulder. I fiddled with the prickly end, hiding my blush. Surely, he hadn't.... I raised my eyes, caught his glance. He looked away, then back again.

"Miss Granger brought your clothing. She felt that you would be more comfortable in a lighter garment." He seemed embarrassed. I touched his arm with my good hand.

"Please, let her know I appreciate it. Day clothes aren't the most practical sleeping garments." I sipped at the juice. He fidgeted slightly, plucking lightly at the counterpane. He raised his head abruptly, looking me directly in the eyes. His gaze was penetrating; I felt as if he was taking me apart layer by layer. He started to speak, thought better of it, looked away.

Intrigued, I touched his arm again. "What is it, Severus? Is there something you want to say to me?"

He looked at me again; his eyes were black and still. "There is. I must ask you about your dreams. I confess, I...eavesdropped on several of them. They...confused me."

I flinched when he mentioned the dreams. "I'm sorry, Severus. I would never have wished you to see them."

He started to speak; I believed to offer an apology. "I'm not offended. Please don't misunderstand me. I would not have chosen to burden you with such things."

His voice, when it came again, was softer than I had ever thought possible. "Tell me about them. Tell me about the dream you just had."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I wondered where you were during the wars. Gram told me you stayed at Hogwarts, during my last visit home before I left for Turkey. That's why I sent you that first message. I didn't know if you would, or could, respond, but I needed to talk to someone I knew." She shifted on the bed, seeking a more comfortable position. Snape helped her adjust a pillow.

"I didn't go to Turkey straight away. The Ministry sent me to the Gobi, to live with a tribe of Bedouin nomads–wizards and witches on our side– for about nine months to pick up the mannerisms and some rather specialized witchcraft. Incidentally," she sidetracked, "that's where I met Nejat. She belonged to the leader's daughter.

"Anyway, I had been with the tribe for about two months. We were migrating further into the desert to reach an out-of-the-way oasis. We were attacked. Someone must have intercepted one of the message hawks somehow. They knew where we were, and they knew I was with the tribe."

She shuddered and drew the counterpane up around her chin. "It was after nightfall, just starting to get cold. The men were out hunting, and we were putting the children to bed, drinking coffee, all those little things you do when you think it's an ordinary day.

"The attack literally came out of nowhere. One moment everything was quiet; the next moment, the camp was full of these...things...they started killing, anything that moved– women, children, horses. I pulled my wand and tried to fight back, but I was mobbed by a group of them. The last thing I remembered was being dragged into a sand dune, feeling the sand pouring down on top of me, cutting off the light..." her voice trailed away, her face tight and drawn. Snape stood and walked to the fireplace. He returned with a steaming pot of tea and two cups; he poured both and handed one to her. She drank deeply, relishing the heat.

"What were they?" He asked, although he had a good idea.

"They were something called afreet. Folklore calls them demons, but what they are really are a flying creature that lives in the desert. They're very quick, very intelligent, and vicious."

He nodded. "A favorite pet of the Dark." She glanced at him, startled at first. "I became acquainted with them during the first war. Not an animal I would wish to meet unprepared."

He noticed a definite tremble in her hands. She was shaking now, barely able to hold her cup. He snatched at the cup as hot liquid spilled over the lip onto the sheets. He set both cups down on he table as she began to sob, then, after a momentary hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. She seemed to shrink; no, she really was that small. He marveled at her thinness, the wiry muscles that flexed in her shoulders and arms, the brittle sharpness of her joints. Her coppery hair brushed his chin, another dizzying wave of scent. She gripped his robe with her good hand, the injured hand cradled against her stomach. In a daze, he cupped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face; he stared into her pale eyes for a long moment, then pressed his lips to hers.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~Anne~

I confess I was not expecting the kiss. As startling as the act was, Severus' eyes startled me more; they were anxious and fearful, yet flamed with longing. His lips were hard, at first, hungry and demanding. I flinched back from the pressure, my jaw aching from the illness.

He misunderstood the motion. He shot to his feet, drawing his robes around himself. His face was aghast, paler than normal. "I do apologize, Professor Llewellyn. Please, forgive my impertinence."

I cut him off, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of his robe. I tugged him back onto the bed and pushed myself into a sitting position.

"Severus." I tried to make my voice as calm and quiet as I could. "Severus. What was that?"

He wouldn't look at me. "I am not precisely sure. I was overly tired, perhaps, or distracted by memories of my own experience with the afreet. I did not intend to compromise you in any way."

I chuckled to myself; he eyed me warily. "That's funny. I must be getting dense in my old age. I could have sworn that was a sincere kiss."

I shook my head, teasing him. "I thought I had become a fairly accurate judge of a man's intentions, and I would have bet that was not a sympathetic kiss. I'm slipping– that's a shame, because-"

He made an impatient noise in his throat and rose from the bed.

"Please excuse me, Professor. I think perhaps it is time for me to retire."

He slid out of the room silently, leaving me to my own thoughts.