From the total darkness of dreamless sleep, Minerva McGonagall awoke and blinked at the blinding light above what was obviously one of the hospial wing's steel mattresses. No part of her body felt especially unusual, except that she could not move a single muscle. Then again, ever since Madame Pomfrey had taken on the position oas the Hogwarts nurse such was not too unusual for the waking patient. Minerva felt her thoughts spin and had the distinct impression of someone pulling her hair - until realising that this was indeed the case.
'You may let go now, Mr. Snape,' said a vaguely familiar voice from somewhere above her.
'I believe that if the bond gets andy thicker, it will have to be considered in your final exams.'
The pulling stopped.
A bond... a magical bond... what had happened?
With difficulty Minerva tried to revive the memory of what had happened before the flash. A room came into her mind, and people she knew.
'Try to concentrate on what is happening around you,' she heard the same, very familiar voice again, and then suddenly knew whom it belonged to. 'I shall explain to you what happened, but you need to be patient and you'll need to be fully awake for that.'
'Ach,' Minerva heard herself say. 'Ma body...' and then nothing for some time.
'It is back,' replied the headmaster calmly, putting one hand carefully onto her shoulder. 'All of it. We have been lucky.'
Minerva opened her eyes fully and took in the scene before her. Apart from a few hospital wing beds, potion shelves, and Albus Dumbledore, there was not much in the room that caught her attention, except for one, tiny detail...
'Mr. Snape!'
'P-Professor McGonagall,' said the boy, obviously in need of an intelligent reply. He had taken a few steps away from her bed now and was side-glancing at the huge windows on the other side of the room, not knowing what to do or to say. Minerva frowned. Gathered herself, wanting to make a proper impression, despite her state.
'What are you doing here, Mr. Snape?'
Snape blushed.
'Tell her,' said the headmaster quietly. 'You might as well get over with it.'
Snape nodded, still red. With some surprise Minerva noted his hands vanishing under his arms, close to his armpits and his gaze going back to the floor.
'I...' He fell silent again.
Minerva noticed the headmaster's gaze and felt her eyebrows pull into an involuntary frown. 'Albus...?'
'Mr. Snape will explain the matter to you in full detail,' said the headmaster quickly. 'I, unfortunately, do not seem to have much time left for conversation, as I am expected at the Ministry in about thirty minutes time.'
'Just a moment,' said Minerva, puzzled. 'You do not mean to say that you will not even stay until a ken the details?'
'As I say,' said the headmaster, now smiling, 'Mr. Snape has a marvellous gift for making things understandable. He will merely need someone to listen.'
And with this, he vanished.
Minerva stared at the spot from which he had disappeared, certain that she had simply blinked once too often and thus missed him using the glass door at the end of the corridor. You could not apparate or disapparate inside Hogwarts walls, after all.
Then, slowly, her gaze turned back towards Snape, who had remained at exactly the same spot as before, now biting his lip.
'Well?' said Minerva, finding his behaviour quite inappropriate for the given situation, realising how desperate of information she was becoming. 'What are you not telling me?'
Snape hesitated. Then spoke, very quietly, as shyly as she was used to from his occasional attempts to contribute to her lessons.
'I... it was me who... I mean...I didn't mean for you to drink it... but... it was me who did the potion that... that did this to you.'
There was a short silence, in which Minerva desperately tried to suppress an instant reaction. Very quietly, after making sure that Snape had fallen silent again she nodded, gravely, pulling her self half upright in her bed.
'Mr. Snape,' she said quietly, 'do you mean to say you intended to poison the headmaster?'
'No!' The boy looked up, his face displaying a sensation of deep horror. 'I wouldn't... I couldn't!'
'Then whom did you intend to poison?' said Minerva, as quietly as before.
'R-Rod,' said Snape awkwardly. 'But I don't now,' he added quickly. 'Dumbledore's been talking to me 'bout it.
He sounded almost defiant. Minerva needed some time to realise whom he was talking about. 'Professor Robertson?' she said eventually with some surprise. 'Why?'
'P-personal matter,' said Snape quickly. Minerva was not pleased.
'Tell me,' she ordered. 'Everything.'
Snape did.
'The headmaster is right,' said the deputy headmistress eventually, after Snape had made possibly the longest speech of his life. 'Maybe I have not been listening closely enough to what you had to say.'
Snape blushed and said nothing.
'I'll ask two things of you as recompense,' continued Minerva. 'Because that is what Professor Dumbledore intended, wasn't it?'
Snape nodded, still red.
'I want you to promise that you will actually try and listen to what I am talking about in our lessons till the end of the year,' said Minerva firmly. 'And I would like to offer you remedial Transfiguration lessons to help you keep up with your work next term. Possibly longer. Depending on how much you wish to achieve.'
She smiled. As calmly as she could. If he agreed now, she had him.
'But...' said the boy, 'no! I do believe I... can do without extra lessons.'
Was he actually defiant? Minerva could hardly believe it.
'You do need someone to help you hand in your work on time,' she said sternly. 'But more importantly, you clearly need someone to assist you finding a direction in life. I want to help you, Mr. Snape. And,' she made what she hoped to be a meaningful break, 'I need an excuse not to have to report this to your parents. I believe it would be of interest to you if I did not send an owl to your father explaining what happened this term?'
Snape went pale and nodded. Even quicker than Minerva had expected. A worried frown appeared at her forehead and she had difficulty nodding.
'Meaning?'
Snape blushed again. 'I accept,' he said, appearing as timid as ever, his head still low. He seemed to be waiting.
'Well, that will be all,' said Minerva calmly. 'You should go back to lessons.'
Snape looked up again, surprised, as it seemed. 'That's all?'
Minerva nodded. 'Of course.'
Snape remained motionless for a while, then, very suddenly, he produced a smile Minerva had rarely seen on his face. 'And you are really not going to... write home?'
'No,' said Minerva quietly. The boy's expression was one of disturbing relief.
'Thank you,' he whispered, causing Minerva to frown again.
'Mr. Snape,' she said, careful not to affect the almost stereotypical Snape pride. 'Is there anything... you wish to tell me? About your father, maybe?'
Snape frowned at her, now puzzled. 'No, Professor,' he stammered. 'Should... should there be?'
Minerva hesitated, then shook her head. It buzzed.
'Go back to your class,' she said again, slightly confused. 'And remember your promise. 'I shall be up again by dinner if you have any questions left.
Snape nodded, obediently, and vanished. Minerva stared after him for some more time, wondering about many things she had never before noticed. It was, perhaps, time someone took charge of this boy's education.
The next day started with more than one surprise.
'Wands away, please,' said Professor McGonagall when the small group of Transfiguration second-years had settled down, expectantly wielding their wands before them, as usual, with no consideration of the consequences. Severus gave her a slightly relieved look. Better some theory than another embarrassing demonstration on how he had not opened his Transfiguration textbook in months.
'No, Miss Black, you will not need your textbook,' said the Transfiguration Professor now. 'But I would like you to take notes. Mr. Nott, I know you cannot wait for another chance to use your wand, but do put it away now.' She made a pause, letting her gaze wander over the class of Gryffindors and Slytherins, all slightly startled that she would not even try to cram the past term's contents into a single lesson to give them some last-minute preparation for the exam. And the exam they would have to do, unfortunately, she had informed them only minutes ago.
'Mr. Potter,' said the Professor calmly, re-arranging her robes while speaking. 'Please name the most annoying situation you can think of.' She looked up. Pointedly.
Severus turned his head to glance at the group of Gryffindor boys, who were all assembled in the first row. He was as surprised as the rest of the class, but would not have dreamed of allowing his face to display it like theirs did.
'The what?' said Potter after a short while, and quickly: 'Annoying situations? Uhm... there's many of them, I guess. Losing at Quidditch is pretty bad.'
'The most annoying one, please,' said McGonagall, ignoring all sounds from the lines of the Slytherins.
'Unbelievable, isn't it?' whispered Timothy Nott into Severus's ear who nodded.
'Just typical of a Gryffindor.'
Others, apparently, had other things to discuss.
'...something in her speech,' Severus heard. And: '...even more posh than usual... Bloody Kelvinside...'
Tim raised his hand.
'I find it rather annoying having to have lessons with students from less intelligent houses,' he said, grinning. 'Does that count?'
Several people giggled. McGonagall remained unimpressed.
'The most annoying one, Mr. Nott,' she said sternly. 'How hard can it be?'
'The most annoying situation of all is when you're trying to achieve something and it just won't work, however hard you try,' came a voice from the ranks of the Gryffindors. A few heads turned.
'Well done, Mr. Lupin,' said McGonagall, as annoyingly calm as before. 'That sounds more like it. Anyone else?'
Severus hesitated, then raised his hand. Slowly. McGonagall acknowledged it at an instant. 'Yes. Mr. Snape?'
'Teachers being unfair,' said Severus quietly. 'Grown-ups in general. If you cannot rely on a teacher... nothing's certain.'
There was a short silence.
'Yes,' said McGonagall eventually. 'That is very true. Especially if the grown-up is someone you ought to or would like to trust.' She smiled vaguely. 'And how, Mr. Snape, would you deal with such a situation?'
Severus frowned, gave her a nervous look, then shrugged.
'Getting away,' he mumbled, not wanting to say which thought had first crossed his mind. 'Ignore them.'
'Possibly,' said Professor McGonagall matter-of-factly. 'Though you might find that hard at times. Any other suggestions? Anyone?'
'Blast them,' said Black, 'stupid Slytherin gits.' A few Gryffindors laughed.
'Unimpressive,' replied McGonagall coldly, not even turning to him, but keeping her eyes fixed on Severus's every movement, who did his best not to shift in his seat. 'Mr. Black, you can be a blasted fool, if you excuse my openness.'
Black stared. 'I wasn't being serious!' he scowled. 'And here's me thinking -'
'A desirable circumstance,' McGonagall cut him off. 'You rarely ever think before replying, however, Mr. Black, and I doubt you'll resort to thinking if facing a situation that actually annoys you.'
'That's not true!' Black stormed, almost rising from his seat, but quickly gathering himself again as he realised that he was making her point. 'Sorry,' he added quickly, causing Professor McGonagall to give him a brief smile.
'What would you do, Mr. Black,' she said slowly, pointedly, 'if I told you to get up and kill Mr. Snape right now?'
Black shut his mouth. And so did everyone else. There was a shocked silence in which Severus suddenly realised that this conversation - this lesson was about him. And him alone. No one moved for some time before Black suddenly stirred and got up - at a snail's pace.
'What... are you playing at?' he said slowly, pointedly. 'What are you implying?' His voice was no more than a hiss, but clearly perceptible throughout the classroom. Everyone else was staring at him and Professor McGonagall, who had not risen from her place in front of the blackboard, piercing the young pureblood with a look that told everything and nothing.
'I am asking you a simple question,' she said, still sounding unaffected. 'It is hypothetical, of course. What do you imagine you would do?'
'Decline, of course,' said Black slowly, still standing, both hands flatly on the desk in front of him while throwing her a highly calculating look. 'One doesn't kill people just like that.'
'A textbook answer,' said McGonagall, flashing him a short smile. 'And now some consideration, please. You are in a deserted corridor. Just the two of you. No one will see you, no one will have any proof. You know that there are spells, which do not leave a trace of who cast them. Assume you know one of these spells.'
'I'd still not do it!' Black burst out, suddenly looking slightly green around the nose. 'Seriously, how thick would I have to be?'
'No one will know, Mr. Black,' said McGonagall intently. 'You are all alone. It is quite easy...'
'DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY YES?' Black burst out, making several people around him jump with surprise. 'DO YOU EXPECT ME TO? BECAUSE TELL YOU WHAT - I WON'T!' Severus watched the Gryffindor's face twitch in an effort to contain his anger. Thoughts were racing in his mind and he suddenly realised that his lip was bleeding. For some reason he had the feeling that his reply, in this situation, would have been a different one. A cold shiver went down his spine. And another one, as McGonagall raised her hand slightly. Her expression had assumed instant seriousness and her eyebrows were pulled together into one, black line.
'No, Mr. Black,' she said quietly. 'I do not want you to agree. I was going to open your eyes,' she looked around, 'all yours, in fact, as to what kinds of decisions might await you once you are capable of doing real Transfiguration - and, indeed, anything you might learn at Hogwarts. I would like you to see what kind of situation we are not unlikely to encounter, being what we are. Learning magic should not entail spells and incantations only. You need to consider what you do with your powers and where to set your priorities.'
'With great power comes great responsibility,' mumbled one of the Slytherins in the back row and some people sniggered. Severus, however, was too busy watching McGonagall, his mind still racing. What on earth was she talking about? Who had ever heard of magic having anything to do with priorities? He side-glanced at Tim, how had started doodling with his quill. Then his gaze went back to Professor McGonagall. She was looking at him, her eyebrows raised.
'Mr. Snape,' she said matter-of-factly. 'You do remember most simple kitchen spells from your first year I trust?'
Severus felt his face flush as a dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly directed at him. 'Yeah,' he said nervously. 'Of... of course.'
Professor McGonagall nodded. She raised and took a few steps towards Black and the other Gryffindors.
'Get up, Mr. Snape,' she said calmly. 'Take out your wand and set Mr. Black on fire.'
Before anyone had the time to do anything but gape, once again, at their apparently deluded Transfiguration teacher, Black had whipped out his wand and was pointing it straight at Severus, whose eyes darted from him back to Professor McGonagall.
'Wand out!' said the latter sharply, easily disarming Black with one hand while holding her wand in the other. 'Now!
Before he could think about the matter, Severus felt his hand fling into the pockets of his robes, obtaining the handle of his slender, black wand. Not without satisfaction, he pointed it straight between Black's eyes, took a deep breath, and - fired.
