Author's note: Okay, now I decided to change what I was going to do so I don't know if I should change the rating or not, because I don't think it's that bad anymore. It's only reference to violence. I'll just leave it…It's not that bad, really. But still later it might be.

Just a few things about for some reviewers…

Phoenix Flight – I don't follow…you said you don't handle violence well, but you didn't want me to write sex either. Hmmm…well, all I can say is that the sooner you start seeing things like Halloween and Child's Play, the sooner you become immune to it. I go and see horror movies with my friends, and now they just laugh at it. They think it's funny when some unsuspecting citizen gets sliced and diced by something or other. And yes, people will always remember the worst of you, because that's what they can use against you. hehehe

MouseBrat – yes, apparently now they're using v for velocity, you're right. I was just going by whatever Einstein wrote. I don't take physics so I really have no idea. I was just using general knowledge, which is a bit old it seems.

As always, I love to hear everything you think about this. If you think I've screwed it up, please tell me, I want to know.

Everything, apart from minor additions here and there, belongs to they who must be deeply respected, JK Rowling and George Bernard Shaw. All thanks to them and my computer.

Chapter 8 - Din of Man

The eyes. The first thing he saw were those mad, red, furiously cruel eyes that drilled through everything. His death eater mask melted and oozed off his face like thick sweat. Eyes began to blink at stare at him from all around, hinting at the figures bearing down upon him, suffocating him.

"Crucio."

It had become a sick lullaby into the most horrifying consciousness he'd ever known. Entirely consumed by pain, bolts of lightning shooting through every muscle and bone, unrelenting, unmerciful pain.

Severus woke with a start, gasping for breath and coated in sweat. Somehow, his body had learned to wake itself from those nightmares before the worst had even begun. Amazing that the mind could do that, he thought, as he pushed himself out of bed and towards the bathroom. He glanced at a grandfather clock, whose face was currently completely shrouded in green mist.

"What time is it?" He grumbled to it.

The mist cleared away to reveal twelve numbers and two hands, the shorter of which was pointing to twelve and the longer of which was pointing to the eleven.

An omen? Could it be a signal to prepare? For him to wake almost exactly in time for Voldemort's regular calling hour seemed impossibly coincidental.

He washed his face in the bathroom, and was picking up a glass to get himself some water when his forearm erupted in pain. He dropped the glass and watched it shatter as he grasped his arm furiously.

The black sign was very clear, very dominating. He would've cut his arm off willingly instead of returning to the Circle, but unfortunately that was not an option. He had to do this, not because he wanted to, not because he thought he would survive, but because he was the only one. There was no one else to do this but him, and he wouldn't really have it any other way, to tell the truth. He began it, he should end it.

He quickly pulled on his Death Eater garb and mask, stole out of the castle and disapparated to the Devil's Inkpots.

The Dark Lord always chose the Devil's Inkpots as a meeting place because it was far from prying international ministry eyes, being safely tucked away in the national reserves of New Zealand. The bubbling geysers spewing sulfur were enough to keep muggles away at night and had no real effect on his legions. Not to mention the Devil's Inkpots themselves.

Apart from having a very effective name, they were very effective if ever prisoners were brought before him. The thick, black tar that glooped and bubbled seemed to bring out the fear in all parties. Voldemort liked that.

Severus apparated to the nearby lake. He watched through the bushes as figures rushed past towards their master, figures he recognized, to his great disgust.

He considered what he would tell Voldemort…that he had found the recipe to the potion, and he would happily make it again for his beloved leader.

Of course, that meant the test of Loyalty, which would probably be given to him immediately. He swallowed and steeled himself against showing any emotion, then remembered the mask, and focused on keeping emotion out of his voice. He strode out of the bushes and joined the line of Death Eaters on their pilgrimage to the Master.

It was not far. The bushes lining the path soon opened up to reveal a number of steaming pits, behind which Voldemort was seated high and proud on a throne made of a tree that had been magically bent and perverted into shape. Severus bowed low and took his place at the end of the circle, beside Malfoy. Their places had been changed after the incident in the cemetery. Nobody knew why, but obeyed nevertheless.

Severus nodded to the figure beside him who nodded and mumbled in return and faced forward, as protocol demanded.

The last few marched in, bowed and took their place, and Voldemort stood to speak.

"My friends," He smiled menacingly, "You've all returned. I must admit to you that I often wonder which of you will run from me next, as you have done little to prove yourselves worthy of my trust. Let's see what you have been able to pull together for me so far. Avery?"

A figure stood forward and proclaimed, "I have been in talks with the Avatars of Darkness and the Warlocks of Night. They have agreed to fight alongside us. This will be a great advantage as they are one hundred-strong between them internationally and devoted to their purpose, so once they have signed the contract, we can consider ourselves well-enforced."

"That is all very well, Avery," Voldemort replied nonchalantly, "But they both have leaders of their own, do they not?"

"Yes," said the man nervously.

"This means I will have to other sources of power to deal with. These leaders must be killed. I leave it in your hands, Avery, to prove your loyalty."

"Thankyou, Master, Thankyou," Avery bowed deeply and returned to his place in the circle.

"Lucius, how have you gone with the Mudblood's parents?"

"Crabbe, Goyle and I successfully transported the Grangers to my home, Master. They are…not aware of their location. We were planning to take the girl on her trip home from Hogwarts in the holidays."

"Good! At least someone can do things as I ask. Your loyalty is clear, Lucius, I do not doubt you."

Oh gods. What was he planning? Probably to lure Harry into a trap. It seemed too blunt for Voldemort's taste…never mind…the fact was that he had Hermione's parents…and was planning to take her too…probably to torture and kill them.

"Thank you, master." Malfoy bowed.

"And you, McNair?"

"The Dementors are ready at any time to join us, Master" the man stood forward, dipping his head, "I have spoken to Pettigrew, and I believe him to be well into the grips of madness. But I have spoken to the Lestranges as well. I fear that if we do not liberate them soon, we will lose their minds too to insanity."

Voldemort clicked his tongue, "I cannot afford to lose such fine servants. We must increase our pace. Severus, what can you offer me in this regard?"

He suddenly felt all eyes turn to him. There had been a lot of pressure on him to get his act together, which he had managed to avoid, but now it was mounted upon him again.

"Master," He began as he stood forward, "I have managed to lay my hands on the potion again. I thought it lost, as you bade me destroy the recipe the last time I made it. But somehow I found an unmarked, untitled copy in the Daniels' family history book. It would be my great honor to brew it for you once more."

There was a cold silence…which seemed to draw out for an unspeakable amount of time. Until he laughed his cold piercing laugh that made Severus wish for the silence.

"Severus, my friend, I don't have to tell you that you are both the most useful to me and the most dangerous. I never know if you're spying on them or if you're spying on us. It is indeed impossible to tell. You know what that means don't you?"

"I do, my lord, and I will do whatever it takes to prove my loyalty."

"Yes, you've said that before," Voldemort waved uninterestedly, "But proving your loyalty to me may also be a way of proving your loyalty to Albus Dumbledore. If you endure my test of loyalty, it may be a way of proving that you are willing to endure that for the sake of the Light."

There was again an uncomfortable silence. Severus made a conscious effort not to move, lest it be seen as a sign of weakness.

"Alright, Severus, You will take the test of Loyalty. But you will also allow me into your mind, so that I can truly see that you are loyal."

Severus' head rushed with thoughts. That meant the Imperius. He'd have to fight it. Probably a number of times…and by that time his body would be very weak. Would he be able to do it? If he could, they were saved….if he couldn't, he was doomed, and so were Deb, Albus, Hermione…

There was nothing he could do.

"As you wish, My Lord."

There was a great rumbling amongst the other Death Eaters. As Severus remembered, they considered it a great spectator sport, to watch a test of Loyalty.

"Silence!" Voldemort ordered angrily, "We must adjourn to an indoor location. Lucius, is your house prepared to play host to this occasion?"

"I am ready, as always, Master," Malfoy swiftly answered, exuding his aristocratic charm.

"Very well, we will all apparate to Malfoy Manor. Perhaps afterwards we can check up on your ...guests."

There were a number of pops and the party had disappeared. Severus was left on his own. He wished there was some way to get in contact with Deb, or Dumbledore…

But he had nothing.

And so, Severus apparated to the entrance of Malfoy Manor, where Malfoy senior was ushering his guests downstairs. Snape joined he line, which led him down familiar marble staircases, and again down rough hewn bluestone steps to the dungeons. Long corridors of cells, the largest of which Malfoy reserved for just such an event, a test of loyalty. He considered for a moment going to look for the Grangers, but he could not. There was far too much attention on him to suggest anything…even say anything.

Malfoy made his way to the head of the line and opened the door with an iron key. It was a large stone hall, with grates on the floor that led through to water below. A massive sort of draining system. There was also a constant dripping sound, which was, no doubt, a result of the dank atmosphere and presence of water.

The torches along the walls ignited suddenly and the room was sent into stark brazen light, as was the apparatus standing ominously in the centre. The Chair, as it had been loosely titled. Which it was, in one sense, but in many others, was definitely not. Yes, someone was supposed to sit in it, but there were many more parts. The main structure, made of steel, was intended to be able to move into any position desired, and then lock, so the subject could not move. This was ensured by the numerous straps that held each limb in place, which were also thin enough to allow access to bare skin, which was Voldemort's main concern.

The circle reformed around the chair, Voldemort standing beside it.

"Severus," He gestured toward it with a nasty grin, "If you please."

The irony wasn't lost, but neither was it enjoyed.

"As you wish," He bowed slightly and progressed towards the chair.

"I suggest you remove the top half of your attire and your footwear…if you wish not to sully them."

Severus clenched his jaw and unbuttoned his death eater robe, thanking whatever god was watching that Voldemort had not requested his mask be removed. Severus was sure it wasn't out of mercy, but rather he still preferred all death eaters remained faceless, no matter how many times their names were used. A name is easily deniable, mistakable, changeable. A face, on the other hand, was not so easy to discount.

He removed his shoes, placed the pile of clothing in a corner and sat down gingerly, trying to concentrate on slowing his breathing, now that his chest was uncovered.

"Vinciro!" Voldemort murmured, his wand now pointed dangerously at Severus' chest

as the straps crept up and bound him hand, foot, chest, arm, leg and head to the chair. He was completely immobile.

"Now, Severus, just in case you do not recall protocol correctly, some of your fellow servants and I shall submit you to various tests of our choice. Whatever we think will test you best. I shall be the first and last to test you, to remind you that I am the beginning and the end of your existence. We will then release you to lick your wounds and hope that you return…for your sake. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Severus attempted to nod, but the straps held him firmly in place.

"We'll start with something simple." He smiled viciously, "Crucio!"

On Tuesday night, Harry and Ron thumped on Hermione's door.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione" Ron shouted, "You've got to come to dinner!"

Hermione clicked her tongue and slammed her book shut.

"Alright, alright," she pulled her robe off the hat stand, "I'm coming."

She threw the door open angrily while Ron was still knocking. He nearly knocked on her face he was so intent on pounding at the door.

"The door's open now, Ron" she giggled, "You don't need to get through my head."

"Sorry," he said quickly, dropping his hand.

"It's alright," she smiled, "let's go."

They trotted down to dinner and took a seat beside Seamus, who was debating with Nearly-Headless Nick about a painting on the sixth floor.

"No, I'm telling you, my boy," Nick shook his head, which wobbled almost completely off his neck, as a result, "It's a regular old horse."

"No," Seamus thumped his fist on the table, "It's Pegasus. What do you think those big white things are? Clouds?"

"Precisely!"

Hermione knew it was neither, but decided not to share. She instead looked to the head table, where Snape was yet to be seen. She instantly looked to Deb, who smiled and winked and turned to Professor Vector.

The plates and bowls suddenly filled with all the normal Hogwarts delights, Shepherds pie, lamb chops, and all the other scrumptious sides, and the hall was filled with the noise and clatter of mealtime in stead of the noisy chatter of adolescence.

It was towards the end of desserts that the doors flung open.

Something tumbled through the doorway and onto the floor in a head of torn black robes…

Oh good gods…Severus...

He was lying on his front, but the tousled black hair in combination with torn black robes made it clear who it was and where he'd come from. If he wasn't dead, he wasn't far from it. Through the tears in his robes she could see scratches, apparently from claws, and teeth marks from very sharp teeth. In the deep silence, Hermione could do nothing but stare…with concern, to her great surprise…

He looked close to death, as close as it was possibly to get. Like he's been thumbing death in the face and disease and damage had come to death's rescue. Blood was smeared across his robes, or what was left of them. His long precise fingers had been torn apart, the nails completely missing, replaced by blood and torn skin. Everything was blood red or bruised purple. It was…horrifying.

Deb was already in action. She sprinted to the door and kneeled down by his side. She turned him over and the full extent of his injury became excruciatingly clear. For a moment Deb just stared, taking all the damage in.

"Saepirio," she muttered, pointing her wand to him, and a web of orange streams of light formed around him.

"Right!" she shouted, rising to her feet again, "Everybody out, now!"

Everyone simply looked at her.

"MOVE!" she screamed angrily, pointing to the door.

The students scrambled out of their seats and hurried out the door. Some tried to get a look at the lump of flesh on the floor but the spell Deb had cast gave something like an electric shock to anyone who came too close to the battered body on the floor. They took the hint after a few had been shocked.

When the students had departed, the teachers hurried down too.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall snapped, "Please, go to your common room, now!"

"No," Deb exclaimed, "I need her help. Come here, Hermione." She scurried near. "Go to my quarters, the password is 'Edelwiess,' open the bottom left door in the wooden cabinet behind my desk. There'll be a large black leather bag inside. Bring it to me, now."

Hermione ran and heard Deb sending teachers off to gather things together. As she ran she chanted in her head: Edelwiess, Wooden Cabinet, Black Bag…Edelwiess, Wooden Cabinet, Black bag.

She was there before she knew where she was going…

Oh god, what was the password? Something about a flower…

"Edelwiess," she pleaded to the door.

It obliged her and opened wide, and Hermione ran in. She ran to the cabinet and looked in practically every door before she remembered it was the bottom left she was looking for. She yanked the door open and heaved out the immense black bag Deb wanted.

"Oh, no," she whimpered, "I can't carry this…Mobiliarbus!"

The bag floated out and she guided it quickly out the door and down the numerous staircases to the Great Hall, where the teachers looked to her earnestly. The orange cage surrounding Severus was now gone, instead he was encircled in fretting teachers and various other objects Hermione could only guess had been brought on Deb's say-so.

He was now bare-chested and his trousers had been torn even more to allow access to the wounds. The ghostly shade of his skin seemed a dangerous sign.

"Alright Poppy," Deb declared as she opened her bag and removed a white ceramic bottle, "pour this into the wounds in his arms and legs."

"What is it?" Madame Pomfrey asked, taking it carefully into her hands.

"It's an antidote for the potions used to cause the infection. Severus made both the potion and the antidote. He gave me the latter in case the former was ever used. Now Minerva," she removed a black ceramic bottle and a cloth, "Take this and wipe it on any small abrasion, bite or skin burn."

McGonagall took the bottle and cloth and began her task.

"Hermione," Deb looked up seriously, "you and I are going to check for damaged internal organs."

There was a general outcry from the teachers.

"Now really, she's just a girl…"

"Leave it to one of us…"

"Don't involve her…"

"Isn't there an easier way?"

"Shut up! If you haven't got anything constructive to say don't say a damn thing because I don't want to hear it! We're doing this my way because there is no other way! Even Poppy has allowed me a free rein here, because no one knows how to do this like me, so you can't possibly have anything to say. Hermione, come down here."

Hermione trembled as she knelt down and looked to Deb for instruction.

"Take these gloves, put them on."

Hermione took the rubber gloves and snapped them on. Deb did the same and cast a sterilization spell, which threw everything in the vicinity into a white light for a moment, then disappeared.

"Alright, Hermione," Deb instructed, "I want you to hold the wound open, so I can check if anything's missing or damaged."

Hermione shakily took two edges of the scrappy wound and pulled gently, half out of concern, half out of fear. The teachers standing over her made her even more nervous. It was like an exam.

"No, no," Deb stopped her, "Don't worry, he's unconscious, you can pull harder…you have to pull harder, otherwise I won't be able to get my hand in. Here, watch me do it."

Deb put her hands on both sides and yanked roughly, exposing a plethora of ruddy bulging flesh.

"See?" Deb asked, "Now put your hands where mine are."

Hermione overtook Deb's hands, pulling very hard and fighting to keep it open. There was a surprising amount of resistance against her hands. She had to put some energy into keeping the wound open.

Hermione barely had time to think about it before Deb shoved one gloved hand directly into the wound, her face set in deep concentration. She twisted and squeezed and fiddled for a little while before explaining.

"Everything seems to be here…nothing missing…except an the appendix…don't know why that's not there, not that it matters…anyway…nothing seems seriously damaged internally…just burnt really…everything's been burnt…as though he's been on fire…but on the inside…another of his potions. Nasty stuff."

"What can you do to fix it?" McGonagall asked worriedly.

"Give him the antidote" Deb shrugged as she slipped her bloody hand out of the wound, "Other than that, we really just need to give him time…these are not simple Quidditch wounds…this is the work of the Darkest of Dark Arts. Hermione, you can let go now."

Hermione sighed and released, allowing the flesh to resume its place.

"How's it going Poppy?" Deb asked.

"Alright, I think," she lifted her head from Severus' arm, "The infections have disappeared, but the burns haven't changed."

"No, I didn't expect them to…How about you, Minerva?"

"The cuts are all but gone…as far as I can see."

"Alright, keep rubbing that stuff on the skin…any free skin… they used a skin-freezing curse, so his skin is probably burning. Hopefully the stuff will put him at ease a little."

Hermione didn't think he looked at ease. His was deathly pale…even more so than normal, and pain seemed written all over his face.

"Hermione," Deb called, "There's a blue frosted glass bottle in my bag. I want you to take it out, along with two patches and a cloth. Douse the patched in the stuff in the bottle, put them over his eyes and tie them down with the cloth. Flitwick, go to Severus' quarters and get his pyjamas…or whatever he wears to bed…I've a feeling he won't appreciate being put in any but his own."

"Err…" Flitwick…looked at the ground.

"What is it?" Deb asked irritably as she took out her wand again.

"It's just that," Flitwick began uncomfortably, "I…I don't think….that is to say…I think he sleeps in the nuddy."

Everyone but the subject of conversation snapped their heads to look at him.

"I really don't want to know how you know that" Deb shook her head, "But he still must have a nightshirt somewhere…just find something. It'll be black."

"It's nothing like that," Flitwick pleaded, "I just walked in on him-"

"Don't tell us!" Deb stopped him, "Just do as you're told!"

He skittered out nervously and everyone stared after him.

"That's just not right," Deb said somberly, then turned to Hermione "Go on, take the bottle."

Hermione recalled herself and took out the tools she needed. She began pouring the clear liquid onto the patches, Deb cast a bone-break-search charm. Whole sections of his body lit up in blue.

"Gee," Deb sounded surprised, "They didn't skip a beat, did they. Arms, legs, pelvis, skull, foot, jaw…everything's got a least a crack. Even the disks in his spine got done."

"It must have been a bone-crushing curse." Dumbledore observed.

"Yes…not pleasant…os repare tota corpus."

The blue light disappeared and some of the bruising seemed to fade. The company of worried teachers seemed to release a united sigh of relief at this.

"Alright," Deb stood up, "Minerva, you can stop now. And I think you can all go to bed too. He'll be alright, he just needs time…and as I recall, you all have classes to take tomorrow, so you'll need your beauty sleep. Off you go…nighty night. Except…Dumbledore, do you think you could bring Fawkes down to the Poppy's office? Severus could use some Phoenix tears."

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore shook his head, "He's in the birth stage. He'll be of no use to you now."

"Damn!" Deb stomped her foot, "Oh, well, off you go then."

She ushered them out of the hall, much to their discontent. They tried to argue with her, but she shut the door, leaving only herself, Hermione and Madame Pomfrey.

"Poppy, go and get a bed ready, we'll close the wounds, draw the bruising down and meet you there. If there's anyone there who doesn't need to be, please don't make them hang around. It would be best if everyone was kept away."

"What about the internal burns?" She asked agitatedly.

"That's work for a potion that we'll administer. Don't worry, leave it to us."

Madame Pomfrey stood up and strode away purposefully, opening the door and checking no one was outside before hurrying away.

Deb moaned, "Gods they are annoying. Tittering like schoolgirls."

"Don't you think they have a right to be worried?" Hermione argued.

"Of course I do," Deb smiled, "But couldn't they worry somewhere else. They should be able to figure out that he'd be alright. The potions and curses they cast on Severus weren't designed to kill. Sure, they were used practically one on top of the other, but wizards' bodies are very durable. Especially one that's been through all this before."

"You've healed him before, haven't you?" Hermione asked, suddenly understanding. Deb nodded. "Every time he's come back like this, he's come back to me. This will be the fourth time. He didn't ever come here because he though it would distress everyone, which it did. But today he had no choice."

"So how can you expect everyone to react as calmly as you did? Even Madame Pomfrey probably hasn't seen wounds like this. She's a school nurse, not an Auror Medi-witch."

"Fighting now will serve no purpose, Hermione. He still isn't out of harm's way."

"You're just backing out, but you're right as well."

"Good," Deb nodded, "Now, you know how to cast an anti-bruising charm, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Alright, well, you'll get a lot of practice on it now. Anything that's even tinged purple or blue or red, chuck on a charm… Don't take any chances."

Hermione began casting spells everywhere…she stopped counting at thirty. Deb, in the meantime, was neatly sealing the gashes, leaving incredibly thin scars for such massive injuries.

It was probably twenty minutes before they'd both finished, but when they had, Hermione noticed, Severus looked…calmer. His face was no longer construed in pain and his color had returned, if only a little.

"Okay," Deb prompted, "Hermione, there's a green frosted glass bottle in the bag. Please to give it me…yes?"

Hermione crawled back to the bag and searched out the next bottle. She gave it to Deb who set it down and nodded to Hermione.

"Right," She said, "We'll need to sit him up straight."

They both took a shoulder and pulled him up. His head lolled back to an uncomfortable level, so Deb supported it to make it sit normally.

"I need you to open his mouth." Deb instructed.

Hermione felt very awkward touching her teacher's face. When she'd put the patches on his eyes she'd done her best not to touch him, but now she had to…

She carefully pulled on his jaw and his mouth opened a tiny crack.

"Oh for gods' sakes, Hermione, he's not made of glass! Open his mouth!"

Hermione steeled herself and pulled harder.

"Much better," Deb smiled, and poured the bottle's contents into his mouth and massaged his throat, which Hermione recognized, was done to encourage swallowing.

"How long does the potion take to work?" Hermione asked, still holding her teacher straight.

"Considering the extent of his injury, probably about twelve hours. Definitely not in time for his lessons. I think we can take him upstairs now. Mobilicorpus."

The body of Hermione's unconscious teacher floated in the air and Deb directed him towards the door.

"You can go to bed if you want, you know." Deb told her.

"No…It's alright…I'll stay."

It was a silent mutual agreement that they'd both stay with him. Neither of them said anything, they just sat down beside his bed and waited…watched. Madame Pomfrey came and told them to go to bed, but Deb insisted they stay, and so they did. She conjured up six Butterbeers to last them through the night, and they both began sucking away at one each. The conversation was sparse, a sort of reassurance that the other party wasn't falling asleep.

"What do you think they did to him?" Hermione asked curiously.

"There are plenty of things they could have done that could escape detection, but what I can see is very obvious. I'm sure they used Crucio, because Voldie just loves it. But otherwise a bone-crushing, skin-freezing and paralysis curses. Infection potions, that burning potion, something Severus called the blood-eye potion, which is what swelled and bloodied his eyes, which you treated. I imagine the huge gash in his stomach was so that someone could just shove their hands in for sheer pain's sake. The only other things that are visible are that somebody, probably not one person, beat him very severely. But I think they must have dumped him in the forbidden forest, so he also got attacked by animals there. Oh, and the fingernails were torn off."

"Why did they do that?" Hermione asked disgustedly.

"Because it's a very effective method of torture. There's no doubt Crucio is the simplest and cleanest way of torturing someone, but there are people, especially in Voldemort's circle, who like actually seeing the pain. Fingertips are very good because the sensory neurons are gathered close together there, so it's very painful."

"It's revolting."

"To a clear thinking mind, yes, it's horrifying. But these are not clear thinkers we're talking about. The people we're talking about are irrational. They see the torture as beautiful."

There was a silence for Hermione to come to terms with this idea, until the question burbled up again.

"How do you…not feel sick looking at him when…"

"When he looks one step away from minced meat?" Deb nodded in understanding as she lifted her bottle to her lips, "I know, it's repulsive. I remember the first time he came to me I was still in medical school. He fell on my doorstep and I had to mix what I had of Muggle and magical medicine to heal him. I could barely look at him let alone fix him. Then the second time I was a little older, just out of medical school. It was still a shock, but I knew what to do. Third time was less of a shock, and now I just get on and do it. Tearing my hair out won't help. Nor will throwing up in his open wounds. Just got to take the boggart by the horns and deal with it."

"You're very brave." Hermione smiled wearily, taking a gulp of her Butterbeer.

"No more than you," Deb retorted, "You were shocked at first, but a soon as I called you, that was it, you started moving. That's something to be proud of, Hermione. Now, I think I want something a little stronger than this. I think the occasion calls for it, don't you?"

Deb pointed her wand at a nearby table and a bottle of Bradley Bunting's Back-burning Bourbon appeared with two glasses.

"Deb, it's a school night!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Oh yes," Deb said sarcastically as she poured, "And an ordinary one at that! Take the damn bourbon, girl. You can nick some pepper-up potion from Madame Pomfrey's stocks if you think you'll get a hangover."

Hermione took the glass nervously and sipped it. She did like it, her father had been giving it to her since she was eight, so it was no shock to her system, but she was genuinely concerned for tomorrow's lessons.

"Don't worry," Deb smiled, "I've a feeling you won't be going to lessons tomorrow."