Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.
This story is dedicated to scatteredlogic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.
Chapter Thirty Nine: NeedfulSnape and Dumbledore walked side by side through the maze of hallways within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore moved with a serene countenance and a purposeful step. While the Potions master matched him stride for stride, he was obviously far more nervous and ill at ease. The scowl on his face would have peeled the paint from the walls if he could have harnessed its power and directed it at one particular spot, but instead his head turned constantly, his wary eyes always seeking to pierce the shroud of his surroundings, to see what lurked beneath.
"I shouldn't be here," he stated flatly for the seventh time as they reached the head of the flight of stairs that would take them down to Minerva's cell.
Dumbledore sighed and turned to answer for the fifth time. Twice, he'd merely rolled his eyes. "Don't you want to see Minerva?" he asked.
Snape glanced away and his frown deepened. "Of course, I want to see her. That isn't the point."
"Then what is the point, Severus?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
With snapping eyes, Snape turned back to the Headmaster and hissed in a low insistent tone of voice, "I have job to do, and in case it somehow escaped your notice, I'm not finished doing it yet. As much as I appreciate you wanting to give me a chance to visit with Minerva, I'd be doing her a much greater service by remaining back at Hogwarts and continuing to search the library's collection. Besides, you know as well as I do that being seen to support her wouldn't be particularly good for my image. An image that I cultivate for your benefit, I might add."
"We've had this argument before. You're a trusted member of my staff. No one can doubt that you are doing as I wish you to do when you accompany me. There's no reason for anyone else to have a moment's doubt as to exactly why you're present, especially if you continue to let everyone within earshot know exactly how little you wish to be here." His eyes twinkled. "And so far, my boy, you've been doing an excellent job of that."
Snape's lips tightened, and he frowned more deeply.
The twinkle faded from Dumbledore's eyes, and he turned and put a hand on the handrail to begin his descent into the dungeon level of the Ministry. "I'm trying to think about Minerva. She needs to see you even if you do not believe you feel the same. How would you feel if things went against her tomorrow and you'd given up your last chance to spend some time with her? Wouldn't you regret that? Whether you wish to admit it to me or not, I think you need to see her, too."
"If I don't find that spell, things will go against her, Albus. Isn't that more important than standing around in a cell feeling awkward?" Snape stated bluntly.
Dumbledore paused as they reached the end of the staircase and turned back to Snape, looking earnestly into his eyes. "We most likely will not be here very long, but if you feel that it is too much time to give then I will no longer argue." He gestured at the long dimly lit hallway. "Minerva is waiting down there for us to visit. I know that your presence would mean a lot to her. However, if you don't feel that you can stay, I won't hold you here. Do you want to leave?"
Snape's eyes followed the Headmaster's hand. His mind screamed at him that every moment spent away from the library was a waste of precious time… and yet. His throat tightened at the thought of her sitting just a few feet away from him down here in this maze of stone. Could he simply walk away and give up what might be his last chance to see her…to touch her?
"No. We're here now. Let's just get it over with," he growled.
With a nod, Dumbledore turned and led the way down the corridor, passing from one pool of flickering light to the next. After a couple of turns, they came to the only occupied cell on the floor with its two large guards standing intimidatingly to either side.
After showing the guards the papers that they'd obtained from the proper authorities up in the more comfortable levels of power, one of them nodded and turned to unlock the door. Before he could open it though, Dumbledore placed a hand on Snape's arm and said, "Oh…I forgot. I need to see Amelia Bones about something important concerning the trial tomorrow. Why don't you go on in to see Minerva alone, Severus? I'll join you shortly." He turned to the guard with the key in his hand. "That's all right, isn't it?"
The guard shrugged. "You both have permission to visit with the prisoner. It doesn't matter to us if you see her together or separately."
"No, I didn't think that it would," murmured the Headmaster. Then he squeezed Snape's arm lightly, stated that he wouldn't be long, and turned around to head back up the corridor the way they'd come.
Snape watched him go for a moment with a glint of admiration in his eye. No doubt he had that planned from the beginning. The man's deviousness never ceased to surprise him. He really should have been a Slytherin. Then Snape turned back to the guards who let him into Minerva's cell without another word.
As the door closed behind him, he looked around the small cell and found the woman he was seeking asleep on the small cot in front of him. She looked much the way she'd looked through the window of the scrying pool. Fragile and wounded. And he found, now that he was here, he didn't even know how to approach her. The emotions that churned around inside him as he stared down at her defied understanding. He wanted to go over to her, to wake her and take her into his arms; at the same time, he wanted to turn and flee the cell, to seek out those who had inflicted such pain on her and subject them to the most dire retribution that he could devise. No matter what the ultimate outcome of this drama would be, those responsible for this outrage would pay and pay dearly. He promised himself that. Beginning with that bastard, Ian Standish.
Before he could decide just what he should do, Minerva's eyes opened, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position and simply stared at him. She blinked determinedly and raised a slender hand to adjust her glasses as if she thought they must be showing her lies.
"Severus? Is that really you?" she asked in a voice that was thin and fragile as dry parchment.
His heart clenched at her tone, but he simply nodded and stood where he was. "Yes."
Her hand fell back to join its mate in her lap, and slowly, she began to twist them together. All she really wanted to do was jump to her feet and throw herself into his arms, but she couldn't make herself move. He was just standing there. Looking at her. Obviously uncomfortable. Apparently, he didn't feel the same way. He was already distancing himself from her. She should've known it would be this way. He didn't love her as she loved him, after all.
She bowed her head to hide a sudden rush of moisture to her eyes. Her throat felt tight as she forced out words in a whisper. "Where's Albus? Didn't he come with you?"
"Yes, he did."
She closed her eyes to better listen to that lovely deep voice. As it flowed across her mind like silk against her skin, a touch of dry amusement began to color the low tones. "He suddenly had an urgent need to see Amelia Bones as soon as we reached the cell door. I think it was his not so subtle way of making sure that we had some time alone together. Albus is more observant, and we were, perhaps, not as careful, as we thought."
Surprised by his words, she raised her eyes to his once more and caught an answering need in their depths.
"Minerva…" he whispered longingly as he slowly opened his arms, and she wasted no more time in getting up from her cot and moving into them as fast as she could.
He gasped sharply as she came into his embrace, clinging fiercely to him, squeezing him tightly and burrowing into what meager comfort he could offer. Hesitantly, he brought up one hand to stroke her hair lightly before burying his face in it and simply holding her tightly against him. Albus had been right. He had needed this…badly.
Time stood still as she grasped at him, memorized him, imprinted him more firmly on her soul. Desperately, she devoured whatever sensations she could find to indulge in. Breathing him in deeply, enjoying the familiar smell of him, that peculiar mixture of old parchment and mysterious potion ingredients that somehow came together in her mind to mean no one else but him. Her sore cheek rubbed gently against the stiff wool of his frock coat, enjoying its familiar feeling, beneath which she could hear the somber beating of his heart.
Finally, she raised her head a fraction and sighed. "I've missed you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I know you probably don't want to hear that."
She could feel his head shake slightly against her hair, and his arms tightened perceptibly around her body, pulling her as close as he could get her. "No, don't be sorry. I've missed you, too," he admitted.
His quiet words warmed her thoroughly, and she raised her face and looked up into his eyes. She hated to see how worn and tired he looked. Suddenly, she realized with a pang of sorrow that her imprisonment had hurt him, too, and a fresh spasm of guilt washed through her. She'd made so many mistakes, but the biggest was that she hadn't trusted him when she should have. With a soft sigh, she admitted, "You were right, you know. I should have listened to you. I should have confided in Albus."
A wry smile forced itself onto his serious face. "Of course, I was right. Haven't you learned by now that I usually am? I trust you'll listen to me next time."
He felt her body shiver sharply against his. "There won't be a next time, I'm afraid," she whispered softly. "This is goodbye, Severus. As much as I'd prefer to be back at Hogwarts, teaching my classes, grading papers and exams, arguing over the Quidditch standings…and making love to you. I think we both know that I'm unlikely to get that chance."
The resignation in her voice dismayed him deeply, though he strove not to let it show how much.
"If someone had told me that Minerva McGonagall had given up the fight, I never would have believed them had I not heard it with my own ears. I thought you Gryffindors were always at your best when the odds were against you. I never thought you'd be a quitter, Minerva."
She sighed and shook her head, running a caressing hand across the surface of his frock coat, feeling the play of muscles beneath the heavy material, touching the buttons delicately with fingers that yearned to undo them just one more time. "I'm not quitting. I'll sit in that courtroom tomorrow and listen to the evidence against me. I'll keep my chin in the air and put up whatever meager defense I can, but it won't be enough. There's no point in denying the truth. Every scrap of evidence points to my guilt. There's not anything to base a defense on. Fighting against the inevitable just seems so senseless at this point. I can't see you bothering to fight a hopeless battle."
He shrugged and stroked her hair once more. "Perhaps not, but then I'm not a Gryffindor. Tilting at windmills has never been my style."
"Maybe I'm not really a Gryffindor either. I certainly don't feel particularly brave at the moment."
She looked up at him again. "My life is over, I'm afraid, but yours still has many years to go. Don't be seen to be supporting me tomorrow. In fact, don't even come to court." Her eyes prickled once more and her voice became slightly raspy with emotion. "I don't want to see you there. I'd like to remember you like this; here, where I can touch you…"
A helpless look came into her eyes and her voice faltered and died. Having no answer to give her, he gave in to what he truly wanted to do, and lowered his head to hers and kissed her. With a sob, she pulled him more closely against her and kissed him back as fervently and as passionately as she was able.
There were no more words. What they really needed each other to know was more effectively communicated in silence anyway.
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Dumbledore moved slowly down the main corridor on Level Two, heading for Amelia Bones' office. There wasn't any rush. After all, his main purpose had been to give Minerva and Severus some much needed time alone together. Though neither of the two of them would admit it to him, it was clear as crystal that somehow, as unlikely as it seemed, they'd fallen in love. He just hoped that they'd find the courage to admit it to each other, and that somehow he and Severus and Irma could find a way to save Minerva's life so that the two of them could enjoy many more years together.
As he turned the final corner before the entrance to the Offices of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, he came face to face with the last person he either expected or wanted to see, Ian Standish.
Dumbledore stopped and waited for the slightly harried looking man to come up and face him.
Standish raised his eyebrows in surprise at this unexpected encounter, but placing a carefully sympathetic smile on his face, he decided to try to make the most of it.
"Good evening, Albus. I wasn't expecting to run into you here. Though I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. How are you holding up? Are you ready for the trial tomorrow?"
"Ian. This is a surprise. Have you been to see Amelia?"
Standish nodded. "Yes. She had a few questions for me concerning my testimony for tomorrow. You know, I'm really very sorry about all this. I'm still dreadfully shocked by what I discovered in that pensive. I never would have believed such a thing of Minerva if I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes. I certainly had no idea that anything of the sort had happened under my roof all those years ago."
"So you never suspected foul play when Henry Grant turned up missing?" Dumbledore watched him closely.
"No. Certainly not, or I would have reported my suspicions to the authorities at the time. Grant was a bit of a drifter. Frankly, it didn't surprise me to find that he'd simply disappeared into the night. Servants come and go. Surely, you understand that. House-elves with their oath of binding are a much more reliable workforce, but they aren't particularly good with horses. Nothing beats human servants in that regard."
Dumbledore nodded. "Did Minerva know Henry Grant well?"
"I don't believe so. He rarely left the stable yard. Certainly, he never came into the house, and Minerva wasn't fond of the horses, so she rarely went to the stables. Riding wasn't a hobby she indulged in. She'd much rather ride a broom than a horse. I'd have said she didn't even know the man. Obviously, I'd have been wrong." Standish shrugged casually.
"Well, that remains to be seen, I think. Minerva says that you told her that Henry Grant stole money from you. Is that true?"
Standish looked surprised. "Not to my knowledge. I wonder why she'd say that? Perhaps she's getting a bit desperate to escape her fate now that the trial is getting so close. I wish I could help her, I really do, but I won't lie for her."
Casually, Standish changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, I should tell you that I've got my report to the Board of Governors almost done. It's very favorable to you and your tenure as Headmaster. You've done a brilliant job with the old school, Albus. The Board should be well pleased to simply let you get on with the running of it…if they see it, of course."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "If?"
Standish smiled a calculating smile. "Did I say if? I, of course, meant when. I am very much afraid that I won't have the time to get it to them until after the trial is over though. I'm sure you understand."
"Oh, yes. I'm sure that I do, Ian."
Standish's smile broadened. "Good. Well, I won't keep you, Albus. Good luck tomorrow. I do hope you can manage to save poor Minerva's life. She always meant a great deal to me, and I'd hate to think of her coming to such a sad end. It would be a terrible shame."
"Yes, it would," Dumbledore agreed.
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A shaken Irma Pince made her way back to the library from a dinner that she didn't eat. She hadn't taken a meal in the Great Hall for several days, not since she'd been devoting so much of her time to searching the collection for that elusive switching spell that Severus was so sure would save Minerva.
With the Potions master gone to visit with the incarcerated witch at the Ministry, Irma had decided that she might just nip down and get a little something more substantial to eat than she'd had lately. She thought that the extra boost a decent meal would give her, would help with her flagging energy level. She was sorry that she'd gone, though.
When she'd entered the hall, she'd come across Poppy and Filius huddled together over an article in the Daily Prophet concerning Minerva's upcoming trial. With somber faces and lowered tones, they'd insisted that she read it for herself.
From their expressions alone, she could tell that whatever the article said, it wasn't good for Minerva. She almost refused. The Daily Prophet seemed to get things wrong so often over the last few years; just look at all the lies and misinformation that they'd printed about Harry Potter, for goodness sake, but Flitwick had pointed out, rightly no doubt, that most of that had been simply a matter of Fudge exerting pressure on the media to spin their stories his way. With Fudge no longer in control of the Ministry, the Daily Prophet was likely to be more trustworthy than it had been in a long time.
So against her better judgment, she'd read the article and lost her appetite, probably forever.
If Minerva was found guilty of this horrible crime, they were going to execute her! Immediately! If the trial went against her, her dear friend could be dead within a few days. There'd been pictures of a gallows on which they were going to hang her, and an interview with a Mr. Pitt, who now ran Azkaban, talking about how they were all prepared at the prison to carry out the sentence of the court if she was found guilty. As if it had all been decided already.
Irma had fled from the hall without another word. Now she understood why Severus was so upset. He already knew the danger Minerva was in if they didn't find this spell soon enough. And now that she knew the truth, she knew that she couldn't afford to waste even another minute doing anything except searching every book she could find. Though there weren't all that many of them left.
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Snape shoved open the door to the library and hurried inside. As much as he'd needed to spend some time with Minerva, seeing her, touching her again, simply brought home how important it was that he not fail in his task here. He had to find that damned spell, and he had to do it now. Her life depended on him. There was no doubt about that. Albus had no case without it.
Perhaps Pince had managed to find something while he'd been gone. He certainly hoped so. They were almost out of time.
Heading for the secluded table at the back of the large room where they'd been working non-stop for the last few days, he rounded the corner of a bookshelf and stopped dead in his tracks.
The table that they'd been using to hold the books they'd been searching, which had still been piled high when he'd left, was now virtually empty. Only two volumes remained and Irma was in the act of picking them up and returning them to the shelves as he watched.
"What are you doing?" he exclaimed sharply.
Irma looked up to see him standing there and hurriedly lifted a hand to brush a stray tear from her cheek.
"Severus. I wondered when you'd get back," she said softly.
He stalked over to the empty table and glared at her. "Why are you putting the books away?"
She shrugged helplessly. "We've been through all of them. These last few had no spells in them at all, and a couple of them were simply later editions of volumes we'd already searched. I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid we've gone through all the likely tomes in the library's entire collection. The spell we need just isn't here."
All the blood drained from his complexion leaving it as white as one of the castle ghosts.
"That can't be true," he whispered painfully.
"I'm sorry," Irma murmured helplessly. "I wish it wasn't true…but it is."
They stared at each other in horror. What would they do now?
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Next Chapter: Irma remembers something important. (I have been having difficulty using the preview/edit function. I apologize for any formatting errors that I've been unable to correct.)
