~Anne, One Month Later~

I stood at the window across the corridor from his room, gazing out at the silent grounds. The October moon was huge and white, floating above the expanse of woods below me like a great sailing ship. I pressed my forehead to the window, hoping that the cool glass would relieve the dull ache in my head.

I had suffered from these headaches ever since the end of the war; during the first few months, I spent hours in bed, immobilized by a pain so intense that any motion or sound made me violently ill. This particular headache had been building all day; it had started that morning over breakfast and escalated steadily into a rotten ache by lunchtime. It was only exacerbated by an argument that erupted during my Muggle Studies class; young Mr. McBaine and his friends counted it as a point of honor to make my time with them a trial, and today they had picked a fight with several of the less aggressive Ravenclaws. It was a stupid disagreement, one that I could normally handle with little difficulty, but I had eventually dismissed the class because the pain in my head threatened to overwhelm me. I canceled my remaining two classes and huddled in my room, willing the pain to stop.

By nightfall, I was half crazy with the pain. Bright flashes of light ribboned across my vision followed by a creeping brownness that slowly obscured my sight. Terrified that I was going blind, I fled my stuffy, overheated room, pacing through the chilly corridors, keeping one hand on the wall to find my way. I was in tears by the time I reached his rooms. I pounded feebly on the door. No answer.

I leaned against the glass and let burning tears pour down my face. I couldn't collect my thoughts, couldn't form coherent sentences in my head. The room spun, slowly and sickeningly, around me. I gripped the windowsill for support. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I felt my stomach roll and lurch. I fought the urge to vomit, desperately afraid of being sick on the floor of the hallway. My vision continued to darken, the hall around me so dim that I couldn't make out the doorway immediately opposite me. Still sobbing dryly, I sank down onto the floor and wrapped my wool djellabah around me for warmth and comfort. I buried my head in my hands, pressing desperately at my skull.

It seemed that hours passed, although it may have been only minutes or even seconds. The faintest breeze crept in around the windowpane, breathing icy fingers down my neck. I tried to concentrate on the sensation, to focus my thoughts on something other than the writhing nausea in the pit of my stomach. I imagined movement around and before me, phantom sounds, voices that may have been passing students or just my own hallucinations.

A dark shape loomed out of the brown haze, a blur of black with no identifying features. I twitched away from the shadow, whimpering, regretting the sudden movement even as I did, pressed the back of one hand to my mouth to repress my need to gag.

I whispered, "It's not real. It's not real."

The figure grew, moving closer toward me. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it away.

"Professor Llewellyn?" The familiar, silky voice, coming as it did out of the darkness, fell on me like cold water. I stretched my hand out, tears dripping down my cheek.

"Anne? What's happened? Can you hear me? What's wrong?"

I felt fingers, cool and thin, gently touching my face, turning my head from side to side. "Anne, if you can hear me, try to tell me what happened."

I grasped at one of the hands, clinging to him in terror. "Severus. Oh, thank God. I thought I was imagining it." A sharp intake of breath.

"Anne, how long have you been here?"

"I don't know. Severus, I can't see, it hurts so much, please, please do something. I can't see you..." I babbled at him hysterically. He touched my eyes; I heard him mutter beneath his breath.

"Lumos." I cringed, expecting a painful flood of light. Nothing. A few bright specks danced before my eyes. I felt the tears well up again.

"You can't see the light at all? Can you look at me? Don't try to see me, just look toward me." I obediently turned my face toward his voice; he turned my head gently and touched around my eyelids.

"Professor Snape?" A student's voice, somewhat familiar. "Is Professor Llewellyn ill?"

"Mr. Walker. Go to the infirmary and fetch Madame Pomphrey. Tell her who sent you, and impress upon her that her assistance is needed immediately. Then find Professor Granger and ask her to locate the Headmaster." A long pause. "Well, don't just stand there, boy. Go. Now." I heard the clatter of school shoes retreating down the hall.

"Anne, do you think that you are able to stand? I can take you in, you could lie down until Madame Pomphrey comes.."

I shook my head, only a fraction of an inch. "I'll be sick."

He patted my shoulder, a sure indication that there were other students within sight, and took my good hand in his cool grip. I imagined that he was sitting back on his heels, an odd habit that reminded me of the Turkish men I had seen on street corners in Ankara. He spoke briefly to a voice that I recognized as belonging to a Slytherin prefect, Amanda Jacobsen; he reassured her that I was merely a bit ill, no need to worry. I envied the quiet calm in his voice. I felt like screaming.

"Madame Pomphrey is coming. You'll be taken care of." He started to rise but I gripped his hand more tightly.

"Please. Don't go. I'm scared, Severus. Don't leave me." I felt him kneel again, squeezing my hand. I heard Madame Pomphrey making her way through what sounded like a crowd of students.

"Professor Snape? What seems to be the problem?" Her voice was crisp, controlled. Severus turned toward her slightly, never releasing my hand.

"I am not precisely sure, Madame Pomphrey. All of you, return to your dormitories. Professor Llewellyn will be fine. Thank you all for your concern."

A pause. "Prefects, if you would please corral your houses and return to the dormitories." I heard feet moving away, prefects calling the names of their houses. The corridor stilled.

"We should move her out of the corridor, Severus. It's drafty, and she can't be comfortable. Anne, dear, can you walk on your own?" I shook my head, another tiny movement.

"No matter, Poppy. I am not yet so feeble that I cannot assist her cross the hall." Severus stood, then, in a single fluid motion, lifted me off the floor into his arms. My stomach lurched unpleasantly and I choked slightly.

"If you would be so kind, Professor, please try to refrain from emptying your stomach until I have put you down." I smiled slightly, grateful for the distraction.

I heard the heavy oak door swing open; Severus stiffened slightly. "Headmaster. Thank you for coming." Dumbledore must have Apparated directly into Severus' rooms. I caught a whiff of lemon as we entered the room. Severus took three or four strides, and then laid me down on a soft surface that I assumed must be his bed. I closed my eyes, reveling in the deep pillow.

Madame Pomphrey bustled about me, touching my face, asking dozens of questions about the pain, the darkness, the nausea. Her voice sounded more and more tense the longer we spoke. I swung insanely between moments of perfect clarity and absolute hysteria, weeping and shaking. I stopped twice to vomit into a basin that Severus procured from his laboratory. Finally, she sighed.

"I'm just not sure. It's not anything I've ever encountered before." She sounded weary, defeated.

Severus snapped at her from the bedside. "What do you mean, you're not sure? Surely you can find out? Poppy, she can't see. There has to be a reason."

"I know what it is." Hermione's voice, warm and assured. "Pardon my Apparating, Severus. I came as quickly as I could." The bed dipped slightly as she sat down.

"Miss Granger." Dumbledore's voice, strong but muffled– he must have a lemon drop. "You said you know what ails Miss Llewellyn?"

"Yes. My mother has the same problems. Luckily, it's not dangerous. It's actually fairly common among Muggle women."

"What is it?" Severus was frustrated, his voice strained. "Can it be cured?"

"She has migraines. They can't be cured, but they can be controlled and prevented. It's easier to stop them if you take a painkiller early on. Once it gets this bad, though...my mother used to take a sleeping pill and go to bed. The headache would be gone the next day."

She patted my hand gently. "It's really not as sinister as it seems, Anne. We just have to figure out how to keep them from getting this bad."

Madame Pomphrey spoke first. "Hermione, dear. Would you be willing to look into the treatment of these...migraines? See what Muggles do, and what we can do for Anne?" I was sure Hermione must have nodded.

"In the meantime, I have just finished preparing a Sleeping draught for my classes tomorrow. I will make a portion for her." I heard Severus rustle out of the room.

Hermione took my hand. "Anne dearest, do you want us to take you to your own rooms? Would you be more comfortable there?" I heard the unasked question beneath her words: don't you want us to get you away from Snape? I pressed her fingers.

"No, 'Mione. If it doesn't bother Severus, I'd rather not risk throwing up just now."

"I would much prefer that you remain where you are and not muck up my carpets. Professor Granger, let me reassure you that no harm will come to Professor Llewellyn if she chooses to remain here. She is, after all, the second Head of Slytherin. I would not risk her safety, if for no other reason than that."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The others finally left. My head was still throbbing, and the noise of their conversation had nearly driven me to weeping again. I sighed deeply as the door thudded closed.

"Your friends are still most protective of you." I heard the tone of amusement in his voice. He sat back down on the bed, slipped an arm around my shoulders and helped me sit enough to drink from the glass he pressed to my lips. The potion was bitter, like chewing aspirin, and I grimaced.

"Don't stop drinking. You must take it all." He insisted until I drank the whole glass. He lowered me back onto the bed, and sat with me as I drifted off into a blessedly painless sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I woke at some point that night, feeling hazy and disconnected. My mouth was terribly dry and my throat was scratchy as sand. I sat up in the big bed, gathering the counterpane around my waist. My vision had improved a bit; I could make out the outlines of furniture against the walls.

Desperately thirsty, I slipped out of the bed and padded to the door. I pushed slightly, surprised when the door swung open easily. The next room was a sitting room, comfortable but somewhat sparsely decorated. There was a fire, just beginning to die down. I saw the outline of Severus' head, nodding in a large chair to the left of the fireplace. I padded over to the chair. He was sitting with a large book in his lap; he had obviously been reading for some time, as the cold cup of tea by his chair attested.

I hovered on tiptoe, unwilling to disturb him. He looked incredibly tired, his face drawn with fatigue. I edged around the chair, moving slowly as a dizzy spell made the room tilt underneath my feet. I clutched the edge of the chair trying not to make any noise. Severus started, saw me clinging to the back of the chair, and flowed out of the seat like black smoke.

"Anne. Do you need something?" He took my arm, helping me to the sofa. I swallowed, feeling my throat click and catch.

"Something to drink? My throat is so dry..." My throat clicked and clenched shut as I tried to swallow.

He nodded, poured a cup of tea from the kettle by the fire. He added sugar and a bit of milk– the way I always took my tea– and handed the cup to me. I drank for ages, it seemed, before setting the cup down on the low table before the sofa. Severus knelt on the carpet in front of me.

"How is your head? Did the sleep help you?" He studied my eyes, noting my reactions and the effect of the lights on my pupils. I nodded.

"I feel...hung over."

"That's normal. You would feel better if you had slept through the night. You've only had about four hours of sleep."

He touched my face again, the cool fingers soothing my hot skin. I sighed slightly, enjoying the cool pressure. The probing fingers stopped abruptly. I opened my eyes. He was staring at me either in surprise or shock; I couldn't tell. I searched his face for a clue to his thoughts. He continued to just look at me, still holding my head between his chilly hands.

"Severus? What is it?" I was beginning to worry; he had an odd expression on his face, one that I couldn't place.

"Nothing. Your vision is not quite normal?" He resumed his examination.

"No, not yet. I can see you, as long as I'm fairly close to you. The rest of the room is like looking through a fog."

I let him turn my head to the side so that the light from the fire shone into my eyes. "My head is a little better, though."

"Mmm. You were dizzy, just then." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. It happens after the headaches."

He released my head and rose to sit on the sofa beside me. He was surprisingly elegant, his slim arm draped across the back of the sofa, one ankle propped on his knee. I curled my legs beneath me and leaned my head on the back of the sofa. His brow creased slightly.

"Are you still tired? Perhaps you should go lie down again."

I was oddly touched by his concern. I touched his fingers lightly.

"No, I'm alright. I'll sit up for a while." I paused, remembering the exhaustion on his face earlier.

"Severus, why don't you go to bed? I can sit, and I don't mind sleeping on the sofa if I get tired."

He shook his head emphatically. "Tomorrow is a weekend. I am sometimes accustomed to late evenings. I don't mind sitting with you."

He sipped at his cup, frowned at the contents, and dumped the cup into the fire. I watched him pour himself another cup of tea and settle back onto the sofa.

"Now. Tell me about these headaches of yours. When did you first start having them?"

I sighed. The man had an unrelentingly inquisitive mind; presented with a problem, he would poke and pry at it until he solved it.

"They started right after I was injured. The Healers in Greece thought I had a head injury."

I stopped at his puzzled look. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. My colleagues Apparated me as far away as they could. They were afraid that the Death Eaters would track us down, so they thought it expedient to remove me from the country."

I paused to sip my tea. "I don't know if you know any, but Greek Healers are incredibly gifted. They saved my eye, and as much of my hand as they could."

He took my hand, examining it closely. I allowed him to trace the network of scars; no one at school, other than Harry, had looked at it so closely. Then he turned my head to study my eye closely.

 "They did an impressive job. Unless I'm mistaken, those scars look like you actually lost that eye."

I nodded. "I did. There was a piece of glass that penetrated my eye. Like I said, they're amazing, but then the headaches started. They didn't know what to do, either. They were worried that a fragment had caused a head injury, that I might have a clot or something. They pretty much kept a deathwatch for the first three weeks, thinking that something would rupture at any moment. When nothing happened, they sent me home to Gram."

He nodded slowly. "I assume nothing changed, once you were home."

"No. Well, yes. They weren't as frequent, but they were always terrible. I used to beat my head against the wall. Gram was terrified that I would actually crack my own skull."

I smiled ruefully. "I haven't had one since I came here. I was hoping they wouldn't come back."

He pondered for a while, staring into his cup. "Anne. Has it occurred to you that your headaches might be related to other things?"

I was bewildered. "What do you mean?"

He set his cup down, shifting on the sofa. "Is it possible that your headaches happen when you are under strain?"

I started to reply; he waved his hand irritably. "No, no, let me finish. You were under an immense amount of pressure after the wars, were you not? You have often told me that people would stare at you wherever you went– that cannot be easy, especially among Muggles. And, convinced as you were that your mission had failed, one could easily imagine that you might make yourself ill."

I nodded slowly. "I can see that. But, Severus, I've not been under pressure here. I love my work, people have been so wonderful to me–"

"And you have to see Potter every day, at meals, between classes, in the corridors." His words shocked me into silence. He brushed my shoulder with his fingertips.

"Anne. I do not intend to upset you further. But it has not escaped my notice that these encounters trouble you. Of course, you are also teaching your first classes, which is quite stressful, as I remember."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Was it so obvious, the maelstrom of emotions that I felt every time I saw Harry?  I thought that I had been able to hide my feelings, to cover the enormous anger and betrayal I still felt. I turned away from Severus, covering my mouth with one hand, trying to press back a sudden nausea.

He leaned anxiously toward me, placing one hand on my arm. "Anne. I'm so sorry. Please. I did not intend to hurt you."

His face was creased with anxiety, his dark eyes troubled. I couldn't look at him. Waves of embarrassment washed over me–how obvious had I been, that even Severus had noticed? I felt a single, shameful tear roll down my cheek. I wanted to flee the room, to hide from his prying gaze and his questions. How many other people had seen what he had seen and pitied me because I was so obviously bereaved? I pushed myself off the sofa, blindly stumbling to the door, plucking at the handle.

He was beside me in an instant, surging off the sofa in a storm of inky robes. He slammed the door shut with the flat of his palm, grabbing my upper arm with the other hand. He gripped my arm as I tried to struggle away from him, propelling me back into the room. He thrust me into his chair by the fire, trapping me there with one hand on each arm of the chair. I ducked my head away from him; he seized my chin in one hand and gently twisted my face to look at him.

"You cannot run from the difficulties in your life forever. I would think the state of your health would be ample evidence of that." His eyes were flashing, deep pools of anger. He shook my chin, firmly but gently.

"Is it not enough for you, that you suffer every time you see him? Must you ruin yourself, your health, to prove that you still hurt? Anne, your pain is more than obvious to everyone around you. You do not need to convince us of your misery by driving yourself into an early grave." His voice rose to a near shout, the words ringing in the small room.

I tried again to wrench my face from his hand. "I am not mourning him, Severus. They're only headaches. There's nothing wrong with me that a little rest and a good medicine can't help."

He stared at me, outrage written plainly on his face. "Nothing wrong? Do not try to lie to me, Anne. I have seen you, hiding, changing your routes to and from class. You're not eating enough, you are not sleeping– I would be willing to bet you're having those nightmares again. Do you think I never noticed when you were a student?"

Stunned into silence, I could only gape at him. I never imagined that he knew what I went through, that first term. His face softened somewhat, his eyes studying me closely.

"I do not watch over only Slytherin students, Anne. I never have. Albus informed me of your difficulties in Toronto. I made it my business, after...the one incident...to be aware of your whereabouts, to know any time that your friends may not be as close as your enemies. It was the least I could do, having failed to divert Titus Malfoy."

He turned away from me then, his back ramrod straight, the fire throwing a nimbus around his dark form. "You know I kept track of you, during the wars. Actually, I kept up with many of your fellow students, but I was particularly intrigued by your choice of employment. Your grandmother obliged your former professor, sent word of you whenever she could. And I do still know a few people high up in the Ministry who did not need to know why I was so interested in your activities."

"Why?" His interest in my life should have been disturbing; oddly, I was more comforted by the thought of him watching over me during those years.

"You were a brilliant student. You were much more talented than any other student in your year. You took my class seriously when others did not; you seemed to want to learn what I taught. More than that-- after that first term, you never backed down from me. You argued, you contradicted, you defended yourself. That impressed me."

I couldn't help smiling. "It certainly impressed the others. They used to wonder why you never poisoned me just to shut me up."

I shook my head, remembering Ron's incredulity whenever I managed to survive another encounter with our Potions master.

Severus turned back to me, smiling slightly. "The thought did cross my mind on one or two rather memorable occasions. I suppose it would have been easy to concoct something you couldn't produce an antidote for. However, I was generally more preoccupied with Mr. Longbottom and his tendency to strew destruction wherever he went."

"Well. Thank goodness for that, then. I should have thanked Neville for sparing my life, poor boy." I sat in silence for a while.

"Severus?" He inclined his head toward me, acknowledging his name.

"Why did you never write me? If you knew where I was, and what I was doing, you must have known when it was safe to write. Why didn't you? I would have welcomed your letters."

He fidgeted slightly, rubbing his jaw. He gazed around the room, then looked directly at me.

"I never wrote because I did not know if you would answer."

I chuckled, but gently. "Severus, you continue to baffle me. Of course I would have answered. I would have been grateful to hear from you."

I reached out, took his icy hand in my own. He startled slightly, but I refused to let go.

"I thought of you, sometimes. Lying in our tents, in the desert. The stars go on for leagues, the sand was almost like water. I used to lie there at night and wish I was back here, hemmed in by green hills and mountains. I almost lost my mind, those first few months; I'd never been under such wide skies before. I'd lie there and pretend I was back in class. I'd go over and over the formulas you taught us, hearing you correcting me whenever I got one wrong."

He was staring at me, that same strange look on his face. Impulsively, I pressed his hand to my face, his cool fingers soothing my suddenly burning face. I glanced up at him as his fingers curled around my jaw. He knelt, still touching my face. His eyes bored into me, dark, wide, and incredulous. I leaned forward, letting my hair swing against his shoulder, and placed my lips carefully against his. He grew very still, his breathing shallow and quick. Slowly, his mouth softened under mine, his hand crept up into my hair, cradling the back of my head. His lips moved against mine, a firm, tender pressure. His tongue touched my lower lip delicately, tasting me. I wrapped my hand in his robe, pulling him closer to me as the kiss deepened. I sighed into his mouth.

He broke away from me at the sound. His motion was so abrupt that he sat down upon the floor quite hard. He stared at me again, confused and startled.

 "Anne. Please. Forgive me. I did not mean to be so forward." He touched his lips with a trembling hand.

I pulled back into myself, wrapping my robe around me. "I should apologize, Severus. I was forward, not you. It was inappropriate of me, I know."

I rose, gathering my robes around me. "I should go. Obviously, I need more sleep, in my own bed."

I slipped out the door before he could stop me again.