We were happy throughout the long, cool fall. We settled into a comfortable routine of meals, classes, and nights alternating between his rooms and mine. Hermione and Ron often joined us at the end of the long table for lively discussions. Severus was reluctant at first to join in, perhaps fearing to let go of his habitual defenses. He talked more later, but was always guarded around them in ways that he was not when we were alone; I didn't fault him that, for the aloofness generally masked a deeper desire to listen and observe.
Hermione's baby came in October, a tiny redheaded bundle of laughter and energy that had her father running ragged. The five of us fell into a loose family; I was asked to be little Sara's godmother. Hermione and I became closer; she was the first real girlfriend I had ever had and I found talking with her reminded me much of my relationship with my sister. We were happy, all of us. Perhaps that is why we never noticed the sixth, hovering around the outer edges of our close-knit cabal, watching and aching.
December was a harsh month at Hogwarts. The weeks before the students returned– for they had all opted to spend the holidays with families and friends– were bitingly cold and dreary, long beyond bearing. I spent hours in the library, overpreparing for my classes, or in the laboratory with Severus, or the classrooms with Flitwick. Hermione and I practiced simple Bedouin Charms together, and I taught Ron a form of chess I had learned in Jordan. He lost the first dozen or so games to me, but by the end of the second week of playing, he was cleaning the board with me.
I often noticed Harry, drifting, it seemed, always at the fringes of our lives. He played with Sara sometimes, but tended to spend hours in the practice arena or on the Quidditch pitch. He seldom joined us at meals, preferring to stay at the far end of the table, or, more and more often, to eat in his rooms. He quit coming to meals altogether just before Christmas holidays. Had I not been so content, I might have noticed something wrong before it actually happened.
We were at supper one evening in January; Dumbledore had requested a special dinner to celebrate an ancient Persian lunar holiday I had told him about. The food was sweetly familiar, the spices and rich flavors I remembered so well. The others were fascinated with the food, asking all sorts of questions about the ingredients. Hermione quizzed me on culture and history; they were all astounded when little Sara burst out with her first words. Ron wasn't particularly pleased that her first words were in Arabic, but he seemed much happier when I reassured him that she had actually said "Mama" and "Papa." Severus laid his hand over mine on the table and I leaned back into his shoulder as we watched Ron fuss over the baby and his wife.
I was only peripherally aware of movement from the corner of my eye, a blur of motion across the table from us. I jumped when an object smacked down onto the table in front of Severus. Harry stood, rigid and pale, glaring at Severus. Severus slowly withdrew his hand from mine, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.
"Mr. Potter," he drawled, his voice level and dangerous. "You do not know what you are playing at. Pick that up and return to your seat before this gets out of hand." Harry merely crossed his arms, waiting.
I was confused. "Severus, what is it?" I reached for the object on the table. Severus' hand lashed out, gripping my wrist with surprising force.
"Don't touch it, Anne. Don't pick it up. Leave it there." He narrowed his eyes at Harry, still grasping my wrist. "Think carefully, Potter."
"Are you afraid, Snape?" Harry's voice was different, hoarse and cruel. Hermione pulled me away from Severus's side, circling her arms around my shoulders.
"'Mione, what's going on? I don't understand. What's happening?" I watched, strangely anxious, as Severus slowly picked up the object from the table. It was a leather glove, Gryffindor red. He drew himself upright, then flung the glove back at Harry with a vicious motion. Harry caught the glove before it fell to the floor. A sardonic smile twisted his face as he bowed and strode out of the room. Severus dropped back into his chair, breathing hard.
I tried to pull away from Hermione, to go to him, but Ron leaned his weight on my shoulder. "Leave him be, Anne. Let him think." Ron's cheerful face was set and grim.
"Would you tell me what just happened here?" I could hear the edge in my voice, the slight note of panic. Hermione hugged me tightly.
"You're from a Great Family, and you don't know?" Ron knelt in front of me, holding my hands. "Harry's challenged him, Anne. They're going to duel."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Why, Severus? Why not just let it lie, ignore it?" I was furious with him, yelling across his laboratory.
He was calm as always, his face immobile. "I could not, Anne. It is a point of honor. You should know that."
I wanted to scream. "Oh, damn your honor, Severus. As for what I do and don't know, my family gave up that barbaric custom generations ago. I can't believe you took it up. Besides, you don't even know why he challenged you."
He tilted his head, amused. "I do, and I've been expecting it for some time now. Better to finish it now, before the students return." He crossed the room, pulled me into his embrace. I clung to him.
"Why? Why is he doing this?" I heard his chuckle, deep within his chest.
"He thinks I stole you away, Anne. Actually, I believe he thinks that I seduced you, or gave you some kind of potion, that I have you against your will."
"I can't understand why you're willing to duel him for some silly misplaced jealousy. What if you get hurt?"
"Do not worry, Anne. I doubt very much that either of us will be severely injured. He is angry, and hurt, and he needs to do something to work that out before it eats him alive. I've seen him, watching us, for weeks."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three days later, we all met in a small grove just outside the edge of the Forest. Within the circle of trees was a small stone circle, remnants of some mysterious tribe of centuries past. The grove was largely unused; it was a traditional dueling circle in the years before Voldemort.
Hermione and Ron were both there, having left little Sara with Professor Flitwick, who preferred not to attend. Dumbledore was there; I was only vaguely alarmed to see that Madame Pomphrey and Fawkes accompanied him. The rest of the staff stood around the outside of the circle, a barrier, it seemed, between the world and the combatants.
Harry stood at the far side of the circle, wrapped in dark green robes. He was examining his wand carefully, gauging the dimensions of the circle. I caught his eye once; he was grim, his eyes hard and flat. I shivered at that look, wrapped my grey woolen robes more closely around me. Hermione slipped her arm around my waist, comforting me.
Severus stepped into the circle, a tall figure in jet-black robes. An icy breeze swirled his robes about his ankles, lifted his hair in an inky nimbus. He glanced toward me, once. He strode to the center of the circle. Harry also stepped to the center. Dumbledore placed a hand on each man's shoulder, muttering a few words. They nodded, then turned to face away from each other. Dumbledore returned to the edge of the circle. He counted as they took five paces away from each other.
They spun as one, wands snapping toward each other.
"Expelliarmus!" Trust Severus to try to disarm his opponent first; I knew he didn't want to hurt Harry, just bring this thing to an end as quickly as possible.
Harry was not of a similar mind. He sidestepped the spell, casting his own spell with frightening accuracy. Severus was thrown off his feet, slamming into the frozen ground. I flinched at the sound of the impact; Hermione gripped my hand. Severus levered himself to his feet; Harry's next spell caught him off guard and flung him into one of the tall standing stones. I heard bone crack. His wand dropped from his broken hand.
"Stop." I whispered. Ron restrained my instinctive motion. "Ron, please stop them. He's been disarmed. He can't defend himself."
Ron shook his head. "It's not over until one of them yields, Anne."
I struggled against Hermione's hands as Harry towered over Severus. A spell hissed out of Severus' mouth, but without enough strength to be effective. Harry lowered his wand.
"Cruciatus." Severus' body wrenched in pain, his back snapping into an excruciating arch, face contorted in agony. He was driven to his knees, arms outflung.
"Stop it! Someone, stop them!" I was screaming now, fighting desperately to tear myself away from Hermione. She was sobbing at Ron, begging him to do something.
"Cruciatus." Harry cast the curse again. Severus screamed then, unable to stop the horrible sound from roaring out of his chest. A trickle of blood seeped from his nose. Harry lowered the wand again.
"Cruciatus."
"No!" The sound, unearthly and tremendous, tore from my throat. I shoved Hermione away from me, blind with terror. I chanted at the top of my lungs, Arabic pouring from me in a torrent. I flung a shimmering bubble around Severus, sealing him from any further attacks. I could feel power building in me, feeding on my anger, tearing my veils away, my hair cracking and sparking, a hot, dry wind lifting my robes and blasting across the small clearing. I chanted louder, my voice rising in a chilling ululation, calling on desert spirits from a distant country. The air raged around me, full of sand and lightning.
I advanced on Harry, blinded by anger and the white-hot power surging through my body. I raised one hand, flinging spells toward him so quickly he couldn't duck. He wand was torn from his hand to bury itself in the stone behind him. I flung him away as easily, his body tossed across the clearing like paper. I was shaking with the need to release this energy, my teeth gritted against the onslaught of words that would strike him down. I wanted him to be afraid, to see my face and know that he was seeing his death.
His eyes caught mine, pleading and terrified. The world seemed to stop for a moment. A voice rang out in my head, cutting through the din of magic.
"He is still the person you loved." It was Severus, shouting at me from the golden bubble. I turned my head toward him; he lay on the ground, stretching one hand toward me. "Anne. You have to stop."
The anger drained out of me. I cried out in anguish as the ancient power seared my flesh; it would turn on me now that I could not use it against Harry. I spun away from him, slammed my palms flat against the ground. The ground rippled, surging from the sudden influx of power. The grass scorched and blackened, a circle ten feet across left smoking and dead. The hot wind faltered and died.
I huddled against the ground, shaking and panting, sweat dripping from my nose. Gentle hands lifted me to my feet. I looked into Dumbledore's cool blue eyes.
"That was the best decision for all, Miss Llewellyn. Now, go see to Severus. I will take care of young Mr. Potter."
I stumbled the width of the circle to the spot where he lay. Madame Pomphrey hovered at the edge of the shield I had thrown up, unable to penetrate it. I tore it down, allowing her to rush to his side. I dropped to my knees, gently touching his face. He groaned painfully and opened his eyes.
"Anne? Is he...did you?" I stroked his cheek, smiling tenderly.
"He's alive, Severus. Thanks to you."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Severus was in the infirmary for a week. I sat by his side constantly, leaving only to eat and bathe. My own palms were seared, covered in tiny blisters that broke and wept and required frequent tending. Madame Pomphrey feared that I would be permanently scarred. I argued that one more set of scars would hardly be noticed.
Hermione and Ron came by often, bringing me hot cups of tea and little Sara, who was as much a help to Severus as she was to me. Dumbledore also visited; we had a long discussion of the duel and my actions.
"I didn't mean to interfere, Albus. I just couldn't stand by and let Harry kill him." My voice trembled.
He patted my hand. "I understand completely, Anne. I am, however, most interested in your...capabilities. When, precisely, did you learn to summon that kind of power?"
"I've never done it before. I heard about it from some of the old Bedouin women; they used to talk about a sorcerer who could call the spirit of the desert to do his bidding. I found the spell months ago, in the library. But, Albus, I only read it once. There's no way I could have learned it well enough to use it." He twinkled at me.
"I think you may find, Anne, that your latent talent for Arabic is merely one aspect of a greater talent. I will have to make enquiries, but I have a theory that your power is somehow attached to your time in the desert. And please, if you remember what book you found it in, I should be most interested in reading it."
He left me to puzzle over his words. I was still pondering them, holding Severus' hand as he slept, when someone spoke behind me.
"Anne. May I come in?" Harry. I turned toward him warily, placing myself between him and Severus' bed. He shook his head ruefully.
"I've not come to finish him off, Anne." He dropped into a chair some distance away from us. "I came to apologize, to both of you." I stepped away from Severus' bed, gently disentangling my bandaged fingers from his. I sat down in the chair next to Harry and waited.
He sighed, a bleak sound. His eyes were troubled, glazed with some emotion I couldn't identify. "I am sorry, Anne. I know that it sounds trite, that I could never make up for what I've done. I was hurt, and jealous, and still so much in love with you. I was confused and angry, and I took it out on him. Every time I looked at you, saw you two together, I kept thinking that it could have been us. It should have been us." He dropped his head into his hands.
I studied him. "Maybe it would have been, Harry. If not for the wars, what we did, how we left things. But we have to live now, Harry." I reached out tentatively, stroking his dark hair. "I still care about you. I want you in my life, but I need you as a friend now. I love him, more than I ever thought I would love any person ever again."
Harry grabbed my shoulders, hauling me into a huge hug. We clung together for several minutes; I prayed fervently that things would be better.
We both jumped as a rough voice spoke from the bed. "Mr. Potter. I trust I will not have to challenge you once I get out of this infernal place." Severus pushed himself up on the pillows, wincing as he did so. "I am not convinced that either of us would live through the experience a second time."
I squirmed out of Harry's arms and took Severus' hand. "You would not, not either of you. Next time, I'll just let you kill each other, and I'll run off with Flitwick." Severus glared at me from the bed. "Oh, stop looking stern, Severus. You're going to rupture something. Harry and I were just talking. It was long overdue."
Harry stepped up to the bed. "I came to apologize, sir. I was very foolish, and...I'm sorry."
Snape stared at him for a long time. I began to worry that he wouldn't relent, that he would refuse to accept Harry's apology. He sighed finally.
"Very well, Potter. I expect I'll try to poison you at some later date; let us call it even for the time, shall we?" The two men nodded at each other. I couldn't help smiling.