Severus stormed into the drawing room, using all his energy and concentration to look as intimidating as humanly possible, and he felt slightly rewarded when the doors banged apart and the two women sitting on the sofa jumped. He felt a pang of distress that Autumn was going to see him like this, but he hadn't the luxury of time to worry about that as his long stride carried him swiftly across the room until he came to a halt, uncomfortable close to Willow, his robes settling as he crouched at her knees. He stared into her eyes, focusing his most intense and intimidating gaze onto her, the one that made students shudder and adults back down.

"I want to know," he began in a low, dangerous tone, "exactly how you knew about the attack. I want to know every detail, and if you tell me that it is like breathing, so help me, I will show you how difficult breathing can be." His face was only inches from hers, their noses very nearly touching. He didn't blink. He braced his hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of her head, trapping her and also keeping himself from shaking.

She looked at him, wide-eyed, for a moment. For a long moment, and then shook her head. "I really don't know," she insisted. "It's like..."

He placed a finger over her lips. "If you tell me it's like breathing," he began repeating, but she shook her head.

"I wasn't going to," she said softly. "I was going to tell you it's like flipping through the television channels, only there are a lot of them and it's hard to remember where something that looked interesting was."

Severus' eyes cut quickly to the gathering off to one side, and settled on Tonks. She shrugged. "IF that's what it's like, I don't think she has any control over it. Kind of like flipping through the pages of a book and barely glimpsing a picture."

Willow nodded quickly. "Yes, exactly. A very large book."

Severus pursed his lips and turned his attention back to the red-haired woman in front of him. "Are they images?" he asked. "Words? Thoughts?"

"Awareness," she answered after a moment's consideration. "I know these things as surely as I know if it's daylight or dark, I don't have to think about it, it doesn't require thought or words or images."

He sighed. This wasn't going well at all. "Autumn said you told her I was going to ask her to dinner. What made you think that?"

Willow shrugged. "You were eating with her," she offered. "In a restaurant. And you were at her flat. So I thought you were going to pick her up for dinner. I guess not?"

"Obviously." His stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn't eaten yet at all, and the loud growl made Willow grin.

"Then maybe you should ask her to dinner."

"DAMN IT, WILLOW, THIS IS NOT A GAME!" He leaned into her as he shouted, and she shrank back a bit, placing a hand on his chest as though it would keep him from coming any closer.

"I know," she replied calmly. "It was very dangerous, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he hissed, "it is very dangerous. And do you know something, Willow? They were looking for you. I want to know why you were a target for the Death Eaters. Not Autumn. You." His voice lowered steadily until it was barely even a whisper, a marked contrast from the shouting a moment ago.

A flicker of something crossed her emerald eyes, and for the first time, Severus thought perhaps she was beginning to understand.

"Will you please sit over there?" Willow asked, pointing, and Severus glanced in the direction she was indicating. "You're making me uncomfortable."

For a moment he stared at her. "I'm making you uncomfortable," he repeated, pointedly ignoring the snicker that had to belong to Tonks. He straightened slowly, towering over her, and she craned her head upward, closing one eye.

"Yes," she replied. "I'd appreciate it if I didn't have to peer up so far, or go cross-eyed to look at you."

He gave her his best 'detention-in-my-office-tomorrow' stare, but it didn't seem to impress her in the slightest, and, after a moment, he pointed his wand to the chair she'd pointed at, and it moved towards him. He sat abruptly, his knees touching hers. He wouldn't have sat at all, except that he didn't know how long he would be able to remain standing. And it would do little for his ability to intimidate if he suddenly collapsed in her lap. "Talk," he ordered in a low, cold voice, taking great pains to ignore the look on Autumn's face. Not a look of fear, but one of... disapproval, perhaps. Someone who didn't agree with his methods.

"I don't know," she repeated, drawing her feet up and tucking them under her, thereby removing his last trace of contact with her. "I don't know why I would be a target for anyone, or anything. I just... stop that."

Severus had held her gaze for a long moment, filtering into her mind, sifting through layers of memories, thoughts and images. He was looking for something out of the ordinary; a memory of something odd happening when she was angry, when she was frightened. For a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts or Durmstrang or Beauxbatons or... anywhere really. Anything at all to indicate that she was a witch. He was sure she was. He was positive she was, or the Death Eaters would not be after her, that simple. And if he needed proof, it was in the way she closed off her mind to him suddenly and he found images of his own past rippling to the forefront of his mind.

His first instinct, of course, was to shut her out, but he was, after all, a highly skilled Occlumens. He could shove her aside, which he was tempted to do on principle, or he could take her for a ride through horrors that he had seen, horrors that he had committed in the name of the Dark Lord. He was fifteen, and being quizzed by Lucius Malfoy about what he would do when he graduated Hogwarts. He was seventeen, and he was attending his first meeting, no cloak or mask to hide behind as the first Cruciatus curse hit him. He was eighteen, attending his first meeting as a fully fledged and pledged Death Eater, a corpse at his feet. He was twenty, and sitting in front of Dumbledore, chained to a chair that was more comfortable than he deserved, telling the Headmaster all he knew. He was twenty-one, and hearing the news that the Dark Lord had been defeated, but not before making a final attack and killing James and Lily Potter.

It was two years ago, and the Dark Mark on his arm was burning, a summons to Voldemort's side since his return. It was a few hours later, and he was on the ground, writhing from the pain of Cruciatus administered again and again as a test to his loyalty—no one, not even Dumbledore, knew how close he had come to giving in after and sobbing his confession into the Dark Lord's robes, but he let Willow see that. He was sitting in his office when the news came about Sirius Black's death, and he'd drunk himself into a stupor that night, guilt consuming him. Not guilt because Black was dead, but guilt because he had no guilt that Black was dead, and he should have felt a pang of it, even if he had done everything in his power to prevent it. And he had. There was nothing more he could have done. Had it been Dumbledore in jeopardy, there was nothing more that Severus could have done that night. Not one damn thing more. And yet, he was the only one who could have possibly done more.

Willow tried to look away, but Severus reached out and took her face between his fingers, not so gentle as he might have been had he not been showing her what evil he was, what evil she faced. He was standing in the field with the other Death Eaters tonight, the Cruciatus curse hitting him full blast for being late. He was in Autumn's flat, facing others whom he knew Willow couldn't help but recognize as people in the room right then. He was standing, his wand drawn and pointed at Lupin, the other wizard aiming his wand defensively at him. He hurled the curse that brought down Remus, the friend he had introduced to Willow in Autumn's flat. There were tears on Willow's cheeks and he finally released her from his own mind.

"I want to know how you know," he repeated softly. "I want to know everything you know. Beginning with how you knew where to find me."

Willow shook her head. "I don't know," she insisted. "I went for a walk, and I was ambling down the street and... and I saw her," Willow gestured at Tonks, "and I knew she was a friend of yours and would lead me to you and it seemed terribly important to find you... but I didn't know why. I never know why. And if I try to work out why, I only talk myself out of following my instincts, and my instincts are almost always right. I don't always make the right assumptions, but the essence is there. You didn't ask Autumn to dinner, but you arrived at her flat at eight, didn't you? And you and she... neither of you have eaten yet, have you? And..."

"Do you know because you..." he paused and made a slight face at the phrase he was about to use, "because you read other people's minds?"

"No," she said simply, shaking her head. "I am an empath, but that only tells me the present. Sometimes glimpses of the past, of memories that aren't mine. That isn't where the future comes from though."

Severus stood abruptly, and instantly regretted it. He grasped the back of the chair to steady himself, his eyes closed, and then moved to the fireplace, his mind whirring, punctuated now and again by a spasm of pain. She had to be a witch of some sort. It was the only logical explanation. But, she was not lying. He was sure of it. If she was a witch, she didn't know it, and had no training, which negated the possibility that it was anything she did consciously to arrive at these conclusions. Which put it back to where he'd started, really. It's like breathing.

He felt a hand on his back and turned, finding Autumn there, drawing her arms around him. "Are you ill?" she asked softly, reaching a hand up to his face. "You're shivering. Do you have a fever?"

"I'm fine," he replied, almost mechanically, looking at Willow who had stood and was now looking at the chess board still set up from his and Ron's game that was closing in on two weeks old.

"Maybe... maybe Willow's right. Maybe you need to eat something?"

Severus laughed humorlessly. He was certain that he needed to eat something. He was not certain he could keep anything down at the moment. "I'm fine," he repeated. "I haven't the time for foolishness just now, Autumn. Forgive my rudeness." He kissed her cheek and cast one last glance at Willow, then looked at Moody. "The kitchens?" he suggested meaningfully, and Moody nodded, pointing at the door.

Shacklebolt, Tonks and Bill Weasley headed out into the corridor, and Bill poked his head into the lounge. "Mum, dad, we're headed to the kitchen," he told them.

Severus came up behind him. "Lupin too," he ordered.

"Remus has been injured..."

"Goddamnit, Molly, he isn't dying. Come on, Lupin." Severus pushed past Molly and slid an arm under Remus' back, helping him up. "You're going to have to help me a little," he hissed, "I'm in no better condition than you are."

Remus nodded and tried to stand, but looked as though he would fall. Bill appeared and slid a much stronger, more capable arm around Lupin's back. "I've got him, Severus. You worry about yourself."

"But he's in no condition to..."

"Mum!"

"Molly!"

"For fuck's sake." Severus leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, waiting as another tremor passed, and then took a steadying breath. "I'm not asking anyone to run a bloody marathon," he told her as calmly as he could. "I'm asking the Order to gather in the kitchen for as brief a meeting as we can manage because there are two Muggle women in the Drawing Room, and we will have to make some sort of decision about them before anyone can go to bed. And, I don't know about anyone else in this place, but I, for one, am desperately ready to go to bed. So will you please make your way to the fucking kitchen so we can commence this fucking meeting so everyone can be about their fucking business?"

Bill looked at him with an expression that fell somewhere between amused, horrified and impressed. "Feeling fucking better?" he asked.

Severus snorted.

Molly gasped. "William Weasley! I may not have much control over the language other people use but..."

"Gah." Severus threw up his hands and managed to stalk away, despite his general lack of energy and strength.

He had no more than settled at the table when Molly came in, her eyes narrowed into a dark scowl, followed by Lupin, half-carried between Bill and Arthur. McGonagall was stepping out of the fireplace, dusting off her robes, and Dumbledore was walking towards the table. A teacup was placed in front of him, and Severus looked up in surprise at the gnarled hands that had been holding it.

"Are you all right, boy?" Moody asked in a low voice, sitting beside Severus for a moment. Severus cast a look around, but most of the room's occupants were fussing over Lupin.

"Fine," he snapped.

"How many curses did you take tonight?" It was almost a conversational question, and Severus considered telling the ex-Auror to mind his own damn business. He didn't have the energy to make it sound convincing, though.

"Five," he murmured, sinking his head into his hands.

"And you gave your last bottle of remedy to Lupin."

"I had two bottles," Severus replied shortly. "I took one, and gave one to him."

"You could have used two."

"I could have used three," Severus replied honestly. "But one was enough to clear my head. Lupin was taking it worse."

"He isn't used to them like you are."

"I am aware of that."

There was a brief pause, and then Moody patted his back. "You're a good man, Snape," he said softly. "Hard to believe it of anyone who is a Death Eater, but you are almost enough to make a sour old man believe that people can change."

Severus snorted softly.

"I'll tell the others to quit fussing over Lupin and give you some credit, if you want."

Severus lifted his head, horrified. "You most certainly will not," he hissed. "What good would that do? Nothing would be changed. He is still in more pain than he ever thought possible and..."

"And maybe everyone else would realize that you're not the villain they're trying to pretend you are. You know they blame you."

"I don't give a rat's ass," Snape hissed. "And if you want to do something, convince them to commence the meeting. The only thing in the world I want right now is to crawl into bed."

"Drink that tea," Moody ordered, standing again. Severus eyed the teacup suspiciously. "It isn't poison, and I doubt there's a poison in the world that could make you feel worse than you already do."

Severus snorted softly, but thought Moody might just be right. He picked up the teacup and sniffed cautiously, then took a small sip. He could neither taste nor smell anything out of the ordinary, but he knew enough about potions and poisons to be aware that just because he couldn't smell or taste it did not mean it wasn't there.

"You know, the sooner we get this meeting started, the sooner you can all carry Lupin up to bed and fuss him into sleeping," Moody commented dryly, and Lupin had a look on his face that was as grateful as Severus felt. He probably wasn't terribly thrilled at the attention, come to think of it, especially since the potion Severus had given him would have alleviated most of the pain by now. He was probably just exhausted and weak by now.

"What developments since Minerva and I left?" Dumbledore asked, and Arthur shook his head.

"Very few. Severus returned, gave a potion to Remus, spoke with Willow, and now we're here."

A very abbreviated account of the events, but close enough for Severus at the moment. He concentrated on not putting his head on the table. "Willow doesn't know how she knew," he sighed. "She doesn't know how she knew where to find me, or how she knew that I needed to go to Autumn, and I don't think she knew that Autumn was in danger when she told me that, and I truly doubt she realized that she was the target."

"Willow was the target?" Remus asked, his voice shaky but strong.

Severus nodded.

"Why?"

"Damned if I know."

"Is she a witch?" This came from Shacklebolt, echoing the question that had been ricocheting about in Severus' head for a week.

"I don't think so," he replied after a brief pause. "But I don't suppose I can say for sure."

"She is not a witch," Dumbledore said softly. "According to the definitions set by the Ministry. She hasn't the power necessary to be considered a witch, and she was not strong enough to be granted admission into any of the schools."

Severus frowned slightly. Had Dumbledore just said she was or she wasn't?

"I don't understand," Tonks said, giving voice to Severus' own confusion.

"There are standards, my dear. Standards for admission, just as there are standards for graduation. Willow did not meet these standards, and therefore was not extended an invitation to any of the schools. She did not even meet Hogwarts' standards, and Hogwarts has the lowest admission standards of any of the schools in Europe."

Severus mulled that over in his head for a minute. "Then she isn't really a Muggle?"

"Oh, she is quite a Muggle, my boy. Muggle is as much a culture and way of life as it is a reference to non-magical people. She is a part of the Muggle world, through and through."

"But she does have magical abilities." His head was beginning to swim, a sure indication that he needed to find his bed soon. This should not have been such a difficult concept to wrap his mind around.

"She has negligible abilities. She is most likely capable of parlor tricks," Dumbledore replied, almost offhandedly. "I would not be surprised to find that she can bend spoons with her mind, or make a book levitate. She likely has the abilities required to brew a simple potion, had she access to the ingredients and the inclination to do so. With a great deal of training, she might eventually become as competent as some of our Second Year students, but she would certainly never be able to pass even one OWL. Her abilities are simply not that pronounced. It is easier for her to pass in a world where she is abnormally gifted, rather than to suffer in our world, where she would be at a constant disadvantage."

Severus massaged the bridge of his nose, nodding.

"Then why does You-Know-Who have any interest in her at all?" Arthur asked what some of the Muggle-born might have called the $64,000 question.

All eyes turned to Severus, who shook his head. "I already told you I don't know," he replied shortly.

"Willow has a rare gift, one unassociated with magic. She has the ability to glimpse the future from time to time, as you have all seen tonight. It is an unpredictable ability, certainly, and one which many might doubt is a true skill, and one for which I can offer no proof of existence. She also, as I believe Severus and Remus are aware, dabbles in what the Muggles call magic, which is, from time to time, quite potent, if accidental. Combined with her unexceptional magical abilities and her quite exceptional non-magic abilities, she is, in her own way, quite a thorn in Voldemort's side at times. I believe that she has managed to place wards on several of the places he has intended to enter."

"Are those the wards no one in the ministry can figure out who placed?" Tonks asked, wide-eyed. Severus had no idea what she was talking about.

"A number of them have come at her hands, I believe. As I said, it seems largely coincidental that she is able to do it at all, and I've watched her a number of times. Buried in ritual and superstition, and with more words than any twelve incantations should use, and quite artistically choreographed, if I may say so. But effective, despite all her babbling and sprinkling of salt and 'blessed water'."

Severus wasn't the only one shaking his head.

"So," Shacklebolt began slowly. "You're telling us that this woman is a Muggle with magical powers but who wasn't strong enough to be accepted into a school of witchcraft and she dabbles in the nonsense that Muggles call magic, and somewhat successfully because she is, on a level, magical, and in her inadvertent dabbling, she now and then manages to do something useful, and thus is a threat to You-Know-Who?"

"I wouldn't say she is a threat. More like a nuisance. But yes, I think you have the idea."

"Well," Severus said sardonically, "that explains everything and nothing. What are we going to do about those two? Autumn's flat was destroyed, and Willow is obviously in danger."

"Is there any reason they couldn't stay here?" Remus asked. Severus was glad it wasn't he who'd asked the question, though that was exactly what was on his mind. "They would obviously have to be told a few things..."

Severus snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Just a few?" he asked, shaking his head.

"What do you think, Severus? You know them both better than any of the rest of us." Dumbledore was looking over the top of his spectacles in Severus' direction, and Severus shook his head firmly.

"I am too attached to both of them to make such a decision," he said simply. "I would almost beg you all to allow them to stay here where they will be safe. Which is why I am going to stay out of this conversation. We need to decide what is best for the Order."