Chapter Seven: An Ill Wind

"I have a definite order now," she murmured through the parchment clutched in her teeth.

Severus glanced over and hid a smile. So many years had passed, but if he ever needed evidence that this was still his Emily, none more definite existed than the manner in which she worked; with papers and books littering the stones at her bare feet, parchments, both rolled and unrolled in her lap and a quill stuck unceremoniously in her tangled hair, it was a wonder she could accomplish anything. Had he ever been forced to work amid chaos such as this, he wouldn't be able to keep his thoughts straight, but it all made perfect sense to Emily, and she was accomplishing much while he played valet: summoning books, taking notes, ordering food, and... of course... guarding the dangerous prisoner.

"It's aiet, tuath, iar, deas, and nyu," she continued, "not very traditional, and not what I would've expected, but I've triple-checked the work."

"That's a fair start," he replied in a tone almost bordering on chipper. Emily shot him a curious glance from the corner of his eye, and tried to hide her own smile... as if he wouldn't notice. "You mentioned that the circle in the garden is likely aiet. We may begin there, then." He shot up from his chair with a grace and energy that belied his age. "Shall we?"

"Anxious to get to work?" she called to his retreating form while hastily pulling on her boots.

"Exceedingly." He was halfway through the door before the last syllable died on his lips.

She had to sprint to catch up and was gasping like a landed fish by the time her steps met his own at the edge of the garden. He smirked nonchalantly as she gave him a thorough scolding for walking so quickly. Hadn't he told her she needed exercise?

The runic circle was carved into the ground amid what had once been the herb garden just outside the greenhouses. It was much smaller than the work in the entrance from whence they'd just come, and looked much less complex. But, any idiot schooled in magic knew that a spell couldn't be judged by its convolution alone. The air and ground here were humming with magic, just as they were in the front hall, and the runes themselves were glowing with a soft, golden light.

"Oh, yes," Emily breathed, still trying to collect herself after dashing across the grounds. "This is definitely aiet, the eastern spire, the element of air." She paced the circle, absently listing the associations of the eastern spire. "Wind, sky, breath..."

"... Tornadoes, hurricanes, capriciousness," Severus continued.

She shot him a glare from the other side of the circle. "I don't recall your being so negative, Severus."

He met her glare with one of his own. "A mile in my moccasins, Miss Grey."

She smirked briefly, understanding the reference. "Touché."

True, she'd been holed up in Azkaban for killing her own brother, but he'd been through his own share of trials and tribulations. Neither of them had the luxury any longer of viewing things with the innocence of youth.

"What do you see?"

"I see several references to wind and sky here," she said, crouching at the outer edge. "There's an astounding amount of elemental energy bound into these runes. Whatever comes out of here will be deadly."

"Can you destroy the circle?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "I can. I'll need a potion from you and a good dagger... And, of course, you'll have to face whatever happens when it's triggered."

"I can defend us. No need to worry. What kind of potion will you need?"

"I considered going about this subtly, but I think I can banish the power itself. I need a potion of pure destruction, something that will wipe this rune off the face of the earth. Can you do that, Professor?" she asked with a wry tilt of her mouth.

He nodded, suddenly studying her very carefully. She had used his title as a gentle ribbing, but it obviously needled her just a bit. Their roles had changed drastically in the last sixteen years, and the fact that it appeared to be having so little effect on her gave him pause. Did she really think that he was foolish enough to believe this charade of contentment? She had far too much ambition to remain unaffected by what had happened to her fortune, her power, her future. If he knew her at all, and he flattered himself he did, she was contemplating making good her attempts at suicide.

But, not yet. She would see this endeavor through first, just to prove that she could, to die having delivered a stinging slap in the face of those who didn't trust her enough to allow her a wand when she was in danger. She would show them all what Emily Grey was made of, then pass from this world before they had a chance to thank her. On the other side of Emily's inherent playful nature lay a vast hoard of black-hearted spite, a trait that he found to be positively endearing.

He glanced at her preoccupied face as they headed back toward the castle. Oh, yes. He knew his Emily all too well, and he would find a way to keep her from carrying out her morbid plans. There had to be something in this world she would find worthy of her continued existence, and before this monstrous chore ended, he would find it.

He would no more accept her death than he would her continued imprisonment. One way or another, Emily was going to be happy.

Both the potion and potions master were ready well before Emily was, and they were back in the garden before she had time to really acclimate to the idea of what she was about to attempt. Standing beside the glyph, she eyed the runes of power etched in and around the elemental runes of air and quailed just a bit. It had been ages since she'd acted as a warrior in any capacity, much less done something as dangerous as destroy a runic circle of this potency. And, she was tired, so tired that her stomach churned at the thought of channeling the energy this would require.

But, what really gnawed at her was that the last time she'd used their combined method of runic magic, she'd ended up covered in her brother's blood, his severed hand still clutched tightly in her own, and she swore she'd never inscribe another rune. Now, here she was, about to break that promise to save a school she loved for the sake of a man she loved even more.

Severus.

Never could she have imagined that it was possible for someone to change so much, yet remain exactly the same. As she looked at him now, contemplating the circle and his charge intermittently, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun began to overtake her. When he glanced back in her direction, he was wearing a smirk under steely eyes. Kneeling at the edge of the circle, she returned the half-smile, wondering exactly what had transpired to so change his attitude toward aggressive combat. When they were only children he had made it a point to know and perfect every curse he could find, but loathed using them. Severus had always preferred more subtle forms of villainy... one of the many reasons he was such a natural at potions.

A sharp glance from the corner of his eye and a miniscule nod was the only warning she received before he stepped through the circle and was suddenly swallowed by a blinding golden light shooting skyward like a malevolent beacon. She cried out once, for a moment overcome by fear for him, but just as quickly, she collected herself and concentrated on the task at hand. Directing her attention to the northern quarter of the circle, she plunged the dagger into the earth at the very edge and began to trace the first rune.

Grimly, she worked, doggedly ignoring the long, low whistle that grew steadily louder as an invisible weight began to settle over her. Whatever power they had released was coming fast. The bottle in her hand shook slightly as she carefully traced the rune with the Draught of Destruction that Severus had brewed, and began chanting the charm which would join the power of the two, channeling them into a force of pure annihilation.

Seconds later, when the rune was activated and pulsed with a greenish-black light, she risked a glance skyward at the approaching unearthly roar and froze, mouth wide with terror. The giant, black funnel was tearing out of the sky, drawn to the circle like iron to a magnet, absorbing the golden glow as it approached, fueling itself with magic. She tried to scream, but the air was suddenly stolen away and a vicious force pressed her to the earth. Raising up on shaking limbs, she crawled to the western quarter to continue her work, hoping that Severus was as capable as he seemed.

The dagger had just begun its twisting path in the earth when she heard the man in question cry out from somewhere within the dying light. Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice, but the panic in his tone did nothing to alleviate her concern. A hasty glance revealed a black silhouette, wand pointed skyward, and the hair stood on the back of her neck as Snape's ward closed around them, effectively sealing them off from the rapidly-approaching tornado.

Severus continued to chant, constantly renewing the ward with every harsh word, and for a moment she knelt like a statue, watching with growing terror as the raging wind screamed out of the sky and collided violently with the ward. The ground shook with the force of the impact, and she watched in horror as Severus collapsed to his knees, the magic around her trembling with the sudden withdrawal of sustenance. A sharp cry was torn from her throat as she covered her head instinctively, certain that they were lost.

To her great surprise, though, the barrier held, and as the tornado expanded and engulfed the area around them, Emily spared one more second to look up, for who else could say that they'd seen the inside of a cyclone and lived to tell the tale? There was no stopping the bubble of wild laughter that suddenly overwhelmed her as she stared up into the swirling, black reminder of the Great Mother's power and wrath.

It was Severus who startled her out of her reverie - the shadow of movement caught out of the corner of her eye as he struggled back to his feet. For one moment more, she watched him as he pulled himself up, his wand again raised defiantly against the storm, and the shouted incantation lost in the deafening roar.

Gods, he was beautiful! The picture of grace and power. He was everything a wizard should strive to be: relentless, fearsome, devastatingly intelligent, and deadly.

With a wistful smile, she returned to her work, finishing the western rune and crawling to the south to repeat her efforts. The cyclone was moving, now, circling the ward as if seeking a way in and ripping up everything in its path as it did so. The magical shield continued to shiver as uprooted trees, enormous edging stones, and pieces of the surrounding greenhouses, broke themselves upon it. But she paid it no heed, confident in her old friend's ability to protect them from the chaotic, swirling mass of debris.

At last, the funnel moved behind them, punctuated by the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood, as she proceeded to the final quarter and began the exhausting work of finishing the destruction of the circle. The other runes had been difficult, but the last one would take the most energy, the final infusion of magic was always the most demanding and the overwhelming exhaustion in her limbs terrified her. For the first time, she wondered whether she'd be able to complete this task or whether her usual overconfidence had led them both to their doom. After all, Snape's ward wouldn't, couldn't hold indefinitely - not battling the ancient, elemental forces of the earth itself. No one could stand against that kind of raw power for long.

It was ironic that the first piece of shrapnel found a chink in their protection just as she'd finished the thought. There was no amusement to be found, though, in the sight of Severus being thrown to the ground as part of a stone planter tore into his shoulder at blinding speed. How he continued to chant was beyond her comprehension. But, judging by the persistence of the ward, he did so, and a violent expletive escaped her lips when, with inhuman fortitude, he actually began to climb to his feet once more.

She shook her head and forced her aching limbs to move faster as the barrier, not an arm's reach from her head was accosted by a pane of glass, which exploded on contact, then a host of vines and small trees, no doubt from the largest greenhouse. The first slice of a sliver of vine across her face was nearly the death of both of them as the potion slipped in her hand. After all, without a wand to inscribe the runes, the potion had to act as the conductor of magic. Without it, the whole enterprise went straight to Hades, and they were left with only a rapidly-failing protection spell. She caught the bottle as it fell, though, at the very edge of the lip, between two fingers now slick with sweat and nearly cried with relief.

Severus was not so fortunate.

She never saw what struck him, so swift was its flight, but it threw him the radius of the circle and slammed him into the barrier which shivered one last time, then vanished. Emily froze in shock as the world seemed to slow to a crawl. The earsplitting roar was suddenly even more deafening, but as she looked back impulsively to see a wooden beam the thickness of a young tree hurtling straight for her head, all she heard was her own scream.

Ellesar Evenstar: Maybe it was an unrelated tangent, but it was damn funny! Your advice, returning to the subject, is always appreciated. You'd be surprised how many little tidbits I've drawn from reviews which have changed the entire face of a story. Just such a small comment made me change my intended ending for the last fanfic I wrote. Speaking of which, Severus' drinking is way tame compared to the way he drank in said last fic. He and Lucius were bloody lushes, and I made frequent reference to it through the OC. Still, if you like, I'll ask him if he thinks he has a problem, and see if he's in denial. Ciao!

Silverfey: Frickin' YAY!!!!! Damn! It's good to have you home! But, I believe I expressed that in my letter, so perhaps I should desist lest you get the impression that I missed you and that you should NEVER leave me again! 'kay. Sorry about that. Anyhoo... Alex does not exist in these stories. In fact, this story takes place right over the time Not For Sale did, right after the close of OOTP. I'm glad that you find Emily to be "commanding," but I must ask, is that good or bad? Inquiring minds and all that. Can't tell you how good that 'Go, you!' looks on the screen! You take my breath away with your compliments.

Sesshomaru's angel: Hi! Welcome! Pull up a chair or a pouf, have a cup of tea and a snack. Talk my ears off. I love it! Thanks for the compliments. It's always inspiring to get a new reviewer, to know that there's someone else out there who thinks my work is decent. I will read your fic just as soon as I can, dear. It's flattering that you would be interested in my opinion of your work.

Lady Jenilyn: Hey! Stop trying to be a bad influence on Severus! Arming a convicted murderer could get him sentenced to life, and though I'm very interested in seeing him in chains, that's not exactly what I had in mind... so cut it out! You will find out why she killed her brother... eventually... Mwuhahahaha!!! Oh, sorry. My bad. I have a condition that makes me do that. Really! Yes. The letter was indeed mean, but damn, it was fun! Admit it, if you thought that you could get away with, you'd have tried to get a rise out of him, too. Not that way! Get that mind of your out of the gutter this instant! So, you like the scene on the back lawn, too? Geez, you guy are pushovers for the smarm! I take it by the numerous references to your feelings on the matter that you do not wish for me to send Emily back to Azkaban. I will take your opinion into consideration of course, but... MWUHAHAHA!!!! Oops! Sorry. There I go again.

Quietude: Thanks for resending your e-mail and for understanding what a ditz I can sometimes be. As for your being away: goodness, I missed you! No more trips for you... ever! Don't you know that my stories should be your first priority? That's your cue to give me a good, hard, sobering slap. I'm thrilled to know that the new story is still holding your interest! And thanks for letting me know how you feel about my telling the story from both points of view. I appreciate that, as it has been a matter of some debate with me. I'm really glad you've come home, Quietude. Now, have a cup of tea and tell me all about your trip.