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A/N: In which Severus backtracks, fast-forwards, and finally ends the story.

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Chapter 21: Consanguinity

The heat of the flames tickled oddly at him, the acrid smell of soot following him out into the living room that was no longer quite as shabby as before. Severus felt somehow shaken to see the changes now, just now, just when his arm was twinging familiarly and the set expression on Minerva's face was still fresh in his memory. Just when that look of soul-stripping greed in Quirrell's eyes was just as fresh.

He really had no time for this – this faffing about, like his mother would have said. As he moved frantically through his shabby house, thundering carelessly up stairs, Severus wondered if Bella was still awake, then berated himself for doing so. Of all the times to be thinking about her, about skin and sex and –

There she was. Bella was in his bed, her tired-looking frame carelessly covered, a whole, almost delicious-looking leg unscreened. Severus forced his eyes towards his wardrobe and the dusty compartments he hadn't opened – "Ouverte lumino," – in what felt like years.

"Severus?"

It was really more of a mumble, but he heard it anyway. "I can't stay –"

She ignored him, of course, rustling behind him fascinatingly enough that Severus passed over an important jar twice without reading the label. "What are you doing?"

"Place spell," Severus said tersely, snapping up the jar, hoping his mind would cooperate. Else he had no idea how he would be able to reach Albus in this state –

Bella stumbled out of bed, behind him. "At this time of night?"

"Albus is needed at the school," Severus snapped, his hastily suppressed anger surging to the forefront as he continued to add to his slowly growing haul of jars and little bags and vials. "That old – that old goat, falling for that –"

Bella's hand on his neck felt like a brand. "Don't distract me!"

She withdrew abruptly, adjusting that sinful nightgown about her bare shoulders with all the poise of her former station. "Fine."

Severus winced, but he could already hear Bella retreating to the bed, and besides his arms were full – no levitating these ingredients – and he needed to get on, before he lost any more time. He staggered out of his bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen before finally giving up his burden and beginning to frantically sort through everything he'd gotten out. Hairs, fingernail clippings, a sock or two –

The sound of sleepy stumbling footsteps on the stairs almost calmed him. Almost. And then Severus rolled up his sleeves carelessly and made the mistake of looking at his left arm, and though the Mark was nowhere near clear, it made his heart shrivel to see its pink, almost healthy colour, as opposed to the dead white he'd grown used to.

"Severus –"

"I can't explain properly," Severus said firmly, setting aside the sock, which was the only thing he thought might really work. "Not – there isn't time."

"There was time for you to treat me like I'd held a wand to your neck," Bella said pointedly, shifting in the doorway behind him.

Severus isolated the sock on the kitchen table, seizing a bit of hair as he did so. Might as well try to enhance its power. Besides, what was he to say to that?

Bella shifted again, moving into the kitchen. "And apparently, time to sort through socks and such oddities as –"

A strand of hair almost broke in Severus' hands. "The Dark Lord may be in Hogwarts." Now, that was silence – nothing on the silence he'd felt within on the way to the trial, his first and hopefully last trial, but it was close. Severus stopped twining the hair around the sock and paused to examine his efforts – close enough to a rune, perhaps? Perhaps not, but he didn't have time.

When he turned around, Bella was still staring. "Severus –"

"I'm not sure. If I was, I wouldn't be here." Severus found himself pushing past her rudely, after that, because he could almost feel the Mark on his arm, and she couldn't, could she? Oh, her skin was marred there, but it was an empty scar, not even close to the living one that chose to woke and direct his actions, so that he didn't dare interfere with Quirrell just on the off chance that –

"You're not making sense," Bella said, her voice shaking slightly as she followed him out into the living room. "Severus, answer me!"

There's no time, Severus told himself, but his body didn't seem to be paying attention as it swivelled round, as his arms grabbed her, as his lips pressed down desperately onto her opening, questioning ones. His only compromise was to make it as short as he could, and even then –

"Just tell me," Bella insisted.

Even then. "Ward the house," Severus could only bring himself to say. "If I don't contact you in five hours, Antares is in the armoury on the third floor."

"Severus, wait –"

It was probably unnecessarily cruel that he should Apparate away at that precise moment, but Severus had a strong feeling that if he didn't go then, he would stay a little longer than was necessary – perhaps even longer. Perhaps long enough that he lost the will to search out Albus bloody Dumbledore from whatever aerated hole in the air he was travelling through and make the old, happy-go-lucky bastard get back to Hogwarts and fix things.

London wasn't any more of a shock than usual, cool night air biting through Severus' robes and testing his skin with cruel fingers as he stumbled through the room. It took a long moment and a fall to realise where he was. And yet the musty smell of disuse somehow got to him, somehow reminded him of the reek of blood and sweat despite the absolute deadness of the dust that clung everywhere. Blood and sweat were alive, dust was not. And yet, he could almost see Walder at work with that axe, at that table in the corner.

Severus quickly averted his eyes, though the table was still empty, empty of flesh and blood and bone. He didn't have time, time was the issue. And though this place, this house wasn't the best thing he could think of, he knew from painful experience how near it was to the Ministry without being immediately above or close to the wretched buildings of the place, which was convenient. The last thing he wanted to be caught doing by paranoid Aurors on duty was place magic using Albus' filthy old sock, never mind how correct a purpose drove him now.

Never mind that the Dark Lord –

Severus shook the thought fiercely away and began to spell faint blue lines into the floor. He didn't have the time.

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In the end, it was the placement of the thrice-damned sock that took the longest. Severus moved and shifted and peered and cursed under his breath, and sweated, thinking of Minerva against Quirrell and the Dark Lord, and good grief, why on earth was Albus so fucking stupid? Relying on Hagrid's foul monster of a dog; relying on a tarnished old mirror to 'protect' the Stone, against Quirrell, fucking Quirrell, who had evaded them both the whole year long under that goddamned turban and was that placement right?

Good, great, blessed Merlin, it was. It worked – all Severus had to do was – thank god, now he could get going; now he could find Albus. Severus poured magic into the lines and runes on the floor, ignoring the bright shimmer as he chanted slowly, holding on to an image of Albus with the grip of a desperate thing. The sock, placed just off-centre of the third rune series, began to glow, and Severus focused on it as clearly as he could, until the glow somehow began to shine inwards, turn in upon itself, and it was moments before Severus could see the faint flicker of a Thestral in flight across a large expanse of farmland, with someone wrapped in rather shiny robes on top.

Ah, Albus.

Severus, mind fixed on the place, the contours of the land, reached out and grasped the sock, before Apparating. It felt like a knife grinding him down, and he stumbled as he reached his destination, but no Albus, no Thestral in sight, and good lord did he hate this process.

For it was time to follow the trail, which was always draining, and doubly so for following Albus, who, despite his distinctive magical signature, never left quite enough of an impression for even a good placing spell to latch onto. Severus was good at these, and had done this successfully before, but not on a night like this. Not when so much was at stake.

Still – that was all moot, wasn't it?

Severus took a deep breath, and, focusing on the sock, which felt unduly heavy in his hand, Apparated again, this time thinking of a shabby farm he hoped he would be able to catch up to Albus at.

He was wrong, of course, but it didn't stop him trying. Another aching jump onto the roof of a barn shook Severus' system, and it was a few minutes before he felt balanced enough to try again. This time, the place spell took, just outside of a noisy pub. Severus' weary eyes examined the sky as he stumbled out of thin air and into the alley opposite the noisy establishment, and were rewarded with a thick black shadow, right size for a Thestral in flight, and with just a hint of glitter as that cloud revealed the moon –

Yes, it was Albus, unquestionably. Severus followed frantically through short, less tiring Apparations, hoping hard that they would soon hit the countryside, and Albus could just – oh, Merlin, was Albus really landing?

It turned out that he was. And then a horribly familiar feeling of weightlessness washed over Severus, and all he could think was left-right-flick-down-PROTEGO, which was why he wasn't obliterated or maimed in any way by the massive atmospheric blast Albus had just dispelled. As soon as the ringing in his ears subsided, Severus flicked out a silver arrow, urging it on towards Albus so he'd finally realise who the bloody hell was followi –

"Severus?"

Severus' shoulders sagged at the somewhat bewildered shout, and though he took care advancing on the heaving form of the Thestral, he did not waste time in further precaution.

Besides, they'd lost enough time already. Minerva could be – she could be anything, right now.

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It took far too little time to apprise Albus of the situation; he almost seemed to know what was wrong before Severus said anything. The hard expression his face took on on actually hearing of Quirrell's duplicity would have been alarming in any other situation, but just now, it was almost a comfort – Severus knew Albus, and he knew that look, and knew well that it meant some sort of justice. At the same time, Severus felt the bitter tang of shame on his tongue as they rapidly discussed their options – the shame of depending again, needing again. But he brushed it aside – no time –

"We cannot leave Thoros here," Albus said firmly, not seeming to hear Severus' protests about the Thestral. "I'll Apparate him myself."

"But –"

"Severus, go." Gritting his teeth, Severus did, and not a second after his arrival outside the gates of the castle, he began to shiver. The magical displacement that occurred with the Headmaster's arrival was unnervingly vast, heightened by the fact that he was Side-Apparating the wretched Thestral into the bargain. Severus averted his eyes in useless reflex, but still felt the moment that Dumbledore appeared in front of him, accompanied by his steed.

It felt oddly reassuring, as always, to see the lines of strain in Albus' face, and to notice the measured way he dismounted from the Thestral's heaving, skeletal back. When he finally spoke, it was not to Severus. "Go, Thoros – get Hagrid. Tell him what you can."

The Thestral drew in an unnervingly long gasp and, flicking its burning eyes in Severus' direction with a sort of hungry curiosity, stamped its foot and was off as soon as the gate opened before them.

Severus almost started in shock – but there, there was Albus, wand aloft, already striding forward with a determined look on his face.

Steeling himself, Severus followed. They'd not quite gotten to discussing what might happen if the Dark Lord triumphed below, but Severus didn't think Albus wanted to talk, let alone think about such a thing. But what puzzled Severus was that the Headmaster's reticence seemed to stem from confidence instead of fear. Surely he wasn't fool enough to rely on just the Mirror of Erised? Of course, Minerva was there, but how would that stop Quirrell, with the Dark Lord on his side...?

"Albus, we need a plan," Severus began, desperately. "If Minerva fails –"

"I made provisions for that," Albus said firmly, not missing a beat as they strode quickly up the path towards the castle. "She knows what to do."

Severus' right eye twitched. "Provisions?"

"If all went to plan –" Albus began, but Severus could already no longer listen.

"If," he spat, hand reaching automatically for his wand. "If, Headmaster?"

Albus ignored him, blasting open the doors with a flat motion of his wand. Severus pressed down the words, the many words that were begging to be yelled at this man, this – this fool who had gone and replaced the thinking, calculating man he'd known the Headmaster to be when it was needed –

Albus paused, slamming the doors to behind them, and the words briefly receded from Severus' grasp.

"I must go alone, of course," Albus said, simply. Severus did not bother to nod – that had been a given from the beginning. If the Dark Lord– "Go to my office, Severus – find the key to my chambers and go in – the Stone should be in my wardrobe. If it is not –"

But Severus, his mind racing with the new information, could not stop himself from interrupting. "In your wardrobe? But – a displacement spell, or...?"

"Prearranged," Albus said, already beginning to start for the stairs to the dungeons. "Severus, there is no time –"

"And you thought I used place magic to find you to feed my appetite, I suppose," Severus snapped, now making for the stairs. "Please kill him."

Albus' answer was mild, but his eyes were hard. "Of course."

It was a testament to the completely shrivelled hope in Severus' heart that he knew, immediately, that Dumbledore could only mean Quirrell.

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As always, Albus' room was a mess. This time, of course, Severus had no eyes for the gaudy messes of books and beaded slippers piled here and there – all he could focus on was getting to that monstrous old wooden wardrobe near the centre of the room and searching it inside out.

Minutes later, he was cursing Albus under his breath. Five passwords on the binding on the wardrobe doors instead of three. Two suspensions of magic instead of one – folly, folly, because even as Severus broke the strong binding charm that kept the errant Stone sealed to a spot on the hidden side of the smallest door of the wardrobe, he knew that such a protection would not have lasted against the Dark Lord if –

If. Severus stared at the stone in his tired hand. If Minerva was dead, if Albus was dead...no. It did not do to go down those familiar lines of thought. It simply did not. Bella would be so disappointed, too – Severus would hardly be able to fraternise with her if he was busy grovelling before the throne of his new-old master.

Severus closed his eyes, set the Stone back in its place (with a rather more sensible amount of precaution, compared to Albus' wild magical extravagance) and left the cluttered room, but not after also sealing the door with a trace of his own blood. Blood magic had never been very hard for him, and the simple spell Severus used wouldn't waste Albus' time later on when it was time to retrieve the blasted Stone.

Severus continued to mull over the spell he'd used, turning it over in his mind as he shut Albus' door behind him. Rather efficient, really – Albus wouldn't have time to come to him to bleed him to perform the counter-spell, and Albus had always had a way with blood magic too. It wouldn't take him long to break the spell. Of course, it wouldn't take the Dark Lord long either, but Severus…didn't want to think on that. Instead he stretched his fingers, pocketed his wand and began the journey down to the third floor to wait for the victor of the struggle that was no doubt taking place below the school. It was well that he met no one – he could not think what he might have said or done if he had.

But Severus' journey to the third floor occurred in uninterrupted silence, and was, in his opinion, over far too quickly. After the few minutes it took to decide on and place himself at the most prominent staircase on the floor – the one that Albus might like to use if things went well, as well as one that the Dark Lord would be most likely to remember – Severus found himself starting to retreat into a daze. Obviously, the evening's events were beginning to take a toll on him. Place magic, though his forte, was of the sort that inevitably tired the caster, and Severus had performed it non-stop for almost an hour, as well as Apparated back to Hogwarts and re-bound the Stone to Albus' wardrobe after breaking the original binding.

Despite all this, when Severus heard footsteps approaching, he readied his wand and a somewhat weak expression of loyalty at all costs, just in –

But no, that was Albus coming round the corner with Antares and the Gryffindors, chatting to them as if nothing of import had happened. Severus couldn't help but snap at the man as he lowered his wand and put away the detested mask for a little while longer. Albus answered him cordially, praising him, even, but Severus had no energy left for a proper response. It was time for bed, and to Antares' credit, he didn't have to be told to start for the dungeons.

Unfortunately, that meant he felt entitled to question Severus. "Professor -"

Severus stifled a sigh, and devoted himself to cutting Antares' queries short. There was only so much a man could tolerate on such a night, and soon the foolish boy was well on his way to his dorm (to gossip about everything with the Zabini boy, no doubt), and Severus was left to his own devices.

Well. Not just yet.

Somehow, Severus dragged himself to the Floo in his quarters, and, by some vague means, managed to get hold of some Floo Powder, toss it into the merrily roaring fire (as if nothing had happened, nothing at all) and call out the words that had begun to be a sort of personal refrain to him. "Sp- Spinner's End…"

The fire crackled and whooshed maddeningly, but soon, Bella's worried face was in the flames again.

"Oh, Severus!" she cried. "I've been waiting – what happened – I was so worried…" Her voice trailed off as she seemed to look at him, really look at him. "You cannot have been serious about –"

"I was," Severus said firmly, cutting her off. Bella's face paled. "Fortunately –"

"Is Antares –"

"Yes," Severus said impatiently, "yes, he is fine." He tried to continue to tell her what had happened that night – soon becoming last night – but the words seemed to die within his throat. Everything, and she asked –

"You were the one who told me he was locked in the armoury, Severus," Bella said, her tone tinged with hysteria. "The fucking armoury – I had no idea what you meant, what you could mean, and then you just left –!"

"I understand your concern," Severus said viciously, but Bella did not let him finish.

"Oh, really? Really? You show up in the middle of the night, wake me up, bite my head off when I ask what's wrong, and Disapparate to face the Dark Lord with a handful of bloody socks, and you – you dare speak to me about concern?" Bella's voice, which had been rising with each sentence, rose to an actual shout on the last word. Severus bowed his head, trying to conceal the palpable relief that was springing up in him, mingled with shame. He'd thought – "You bastard! You absolute arsehole – if you ever do that to me again –"

"I won't," Severus said quietly, but of course it wasn't enough. Bella fumed for a good ten minutes, half-crying at some points as she berated him soundly for not bothering to fully articulate what had been going on, while sternly demanding details and deducing them herself when he was hesitant to supply them. By the time they'd gotten to his brusque dismissal of her son, she'd calmed down somewhat – had certainly calmed down enough to have looked Severus over at some point – and began to strongly advocate his own departure to bed.

"Right," Severus could only say, rubbing at his tired, slightly aching eyes. "This week won't be too busy, so I'll try to contact you –"

"I meant bed here," Bella said, interrupting impatiently. Ignoring his shock, she continued. "You do have the password to Floo back into Hogwarts tomorrow morning, don't you?"

Severus found himself starting to flush. "Perhaps it is not –"

"And we are both early risers – or, at least we should be. What with tonight's…events, I'll probably have to wake you myself." By then, she was already looking away over her shoulder, and very obviously disregarding Severus' unwilling protests. "See you in a moment, I have to change…"

And she had winked out, and Severus was already stretching for more Floo powder and tiredly beckoning his damp cloak toward him with his wand, because – well. Because.

Severus put the candles and lamps out, and was soon on his way.

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Somehow, the feeling of coming to in Bella's arms made up for how much Severus' thighs and back were aching – he'd done a lot of ducking and hiding the previous night while on the hunt for Albus, most of them skills he hadn't quite put to such extensive use in some time. It felt almost a crime to rise and robe himself and Floo into Hogwarts, especially since Bella was only half-awake, and too busy getting ready for work to give him any sort of proper goodbye.

Still, even without that disappointment, the next few hours were somewhat of a trial, excepting perhaps the sight of Quirrell's inert frame that Severus sought in the Hospital Wing soon after breakfast, his morning class being cancelled. Quirrell's body was laid out roughly on an unused bed – something that made Severus think of the few significant deaths in Hogwart's recent history and wonder whether he'd had the ill luck to be placed in the same bed on which they had been laid.

That aside, Severus soon found himself checking whether Quirrell was really dead, discreetly, just in case. Best to be careful, he thought, voicelessly casting a Revivo, but he knew very well that the wild relief within him upon viewing the spell's failure had nothing to do with caution. He'd spoken to Albus this morning over a late, semi-private breakfast, and Albus had as good as told him that the Dark Lord was still alive somewhere, but Severus could not bring himself to see anything but Quirrell's pale, stiffened form and think that this would somehow be the end of it. He was only able to tear himself away from the dead man's side upon hearing Poppy start her usual fluttering over Minerva's awakening.

"...now don't you move a muscle, Minerva," she was saying, giving Severus no more than the usual stern, cautionary look as he walked up to the foot of Minerva's bed. "Your body is very weak at the moment, and still adjusting to –"

Minerva's eyes, though lidded and tired-looking, seemed to gain focus when she caught sight of Severus. "Poppy? 'S that Sev'rus?"

Poppy pursed her lips, reaching out to shoo Severus away from her patient's side. "Now, Minerva, no talking! Your vocal chords took a lot of strain last night, and it's best not to –"

"Sev'rus? Wher'you goin'?"

"He is leaving you to rest," Poppy snapped irritably, giving Severus a sharp look. "Now, Minerva, sit back – all those potions and poultices won't do any good if you keep shifting them about, you know!"

But Minerva paid Poppy's angry words no attention. She shifted restlessly under the blanket, struggling to get comfortable, and it pained Severus to see how restricted and slow her movements were. "Sev'rus wait…I – I saw –"

"No need for that," Severus said briskly, cutting her off. "How do you feel?"

Minerva paused for a moment, and then laughed hoarsely. Even as Severus noted the rasp that he was now sure underlay everything she said, he tried not to cringe at the bitterness evident in that laugh, and, though he only stiffened and continued to question her, he also noted the way her eyes roved slowly about the room, a clear question in them that was all too familiar. Am I safe? they demanded. Who is here – is this a trick?

It made Severus feel sick, with a mixture of fear and anger he'd often felt during the worst days of the Dark Lord's ascendancy. As Poppy told them both off emphatically and finally managed to hustle him out, he couldn't stop running that slow, deliberate sweep through his mind – that was how Minerva had checked rooms then, when she was on duty. Never really missed anything – had always joked about having the eyesight of a cat. Not with Severus, of course.

It was nearly all Severus could do to stumble down, all the way down, to his dungeons, even with the sheer amount of students that gave way or bolted upon his approach. Once he was within his rooms, he somehow got his hands on a cauldron and headed straight for his personal supply cabinet. Aloe, his mind suggested, unhelpfully, as he remembered the rasp in Minerva's voice, the way her limbs looked and moved as if they'd been stretched somehow.

Severus gritted his teeth, frustration melding tightly to the rage and fear within him. Aloe indeed. Was there aloe for the look in her eyes? For the feeling in his heart?

Reaching for the stirring rod, he didn't even try to answer that. There was, simply put, no point.

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The rest of the term plodded by, irrespective of the way Severus' desire to be home and away from Hogwarts seemed to double each passing day. He snapped at everyone in sight, and barely managed to say a cordial word to Minerva on delivering her tincture of aloe apart from instructions on how to ingest it. She took it without complaint, which added to the helpless anger within Severus – he knew that sort of pain, that sort that forced you to choose between resignation and madness.

Minerva, though, despite Severus' misgivings and Poppy's near-constant irritation at having her orders to stay silent and still disobeyed, was strengthening daily and had already begun to crow about Gryffindor's imminent success as the winners of the House Cup. Apart from their disgustingly smug victory over Ravenclaw in the last match of the season, Albus had further advanced their cause by making a very silly public speech at lunch on the day of the end-of-term feast and giving each of the Gryffindors fifty points each. Of course, he'd also given the same amount to Antares, but obviously as some sort of conciliatory prize. It, however, was a godsend in its own peculiar way, hearing Minerva mutter things about jealous people who couldn't stand to lose just one House Cup when they had won many, and it meant that Severus wasn't nearly as irritated by the loss as he should have been.

In any case, Severus was more than ready to return to Bella and his own bloody bed and no stupid Slytherin students trying to weasel out answers to their questions about the mysterious happenings on That Night. In fact, he was ready enough that he anticipated the beginning of the mad rush that always took place on the morning of the Hogwarts Express' final departure of the term with a relatively sane rush of his own, which became mad once he remembered that he'd forgotten to brew the batch of contraceptive potion that would be needed for the summer holidays.

All night, Severus brewed batches of the fairly complex mixture, which Bella took religiously, and which he didn't feel was quite safe to brew in his own house, considering Antares' presence over the summer. The process was irritating in the usual manner despite Severus' normal precautions, and by the next morning, he was approaching a now quite familiar threshold of arousal and wondering whether it would cloud his judgement on his arrival at Spinner's End.

Correction, on his and Antares' arrival at Spinner's End. Severus rolled his eyes as he began to decant the potion into phials with slightly shaking hands, partly because Antares was the reason he wasn't brewing this slowly in the comfort of his own home and partly because Antares, as Bella had said at the beginning of everything, was the reason he needed to brew it at all. It was the sort of irony that these situations seemed to attract, and by the time he'd finished decanting, Severus discovered a very real need to check his Silencing wards before collapsing with laughter.

Somehow, Severus managed to get a hold of himself well in time to finish his packing, and was consequently in fine form within Slytherin that morning.

"Is that your trunk, Kendall?" Severus demanded, for what seemed like the hundredth time. The nervous third year's eyes widened – ah, still red? Bloody Pucey, smuggling alcohol in again – and she began to stumble towards the ramshackle article, stuttering all the way.

"Well y-y-yes, Profe- "

"Shut up," Severus sighed, directing a long-lasting reinforcing charm in her trunk's direction. "Try to brew your own hangover potion next time, for Merlin's sake. And those eyes better be clear by the time you're on the Express…" He paused, looking around for a moment. The common room was fairly chaotic but not overwhelming, as the older years and smarter students had already clearly labelled their trunks for collection and were on their way up to the Entrance Hall. That made it easy to spot Antares and his cronies chatting excitedly over something near a group of trunks – something that looked remarkably like the list of the first years' exam results.

Severus smirked – he clearly remembered that two of the Slytherins had made it into the top ten overall, something he would relish repeating again to Flitwick, who believed his own house had some sort of moral right to eight places in the top ten. This time, only five Ravenclaws had made it in, having been beaten to the top by that odious Granger girl. And even then, Antares and Draco had captured the sixth and seventh spots, and the rest of the spots went to one of the hapless Ravenclaws and three of the Hufflepuffs, all of whom had done outstandingly in History of Magic which was regarded as a bit of a nothing subject by the Ravenclaws in general.

Of course, that would be poor comfort to Flitwick that the differences in that score had kept some more of his students out of the top ten, but that didn't matter. It would only make mentioning the results that much sweeter, especially since the Ravenclaw second years and fourth years hadn't done all that well in the all-round rankings either –

"Oh! Sorry sir –" His pleasant ruminations were cut short at that moment by someone bumping into him from the back – someone, luckily, that he'd been wanting to speak with, at length. "– didn't see you, so –"

"You'll be lucky if that's the least of your problems this morning, Pucey," Severus snapped. "Where's the other little leech – ah, Warrington, there you are. I hope I don't have to explain why the two of you will be doing double duty in the dungeons at the start of next term –"

Warrington looked horrified, even more so than Pucey, who looked faintly guilty. "But sir, I didn't –"

"Unfortunately, since I have found you in every respect to be like those disgusting Weasley twins – something of which I am deeply ashamed – I have decided to treat the two of you as one. Henceforth, if one of you loses points, the other shall as well, and if one of you is punished…" Severus let his voice trail off, finding from the horror on each boy's face to be of just the severity he desired. "I see that I have made myself clear. Do enjoy your summer." Severus walked away with something of a spring in his step. It was partly the thought of finally succeeding in shocking those two, but even more the thought that he would be enjoying his own summer.

However, when Severus found himself starting to hum tunelessly as he cut through the crowd of students that was spilling out onto the lawn, he put a stop to it. There was no need to become giddy.

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Later on, Severus would find his estimation of that to be in the wrong. The ride to London on the Express was as disgustingly noisy and busy as always happened when riding with the general student body, but what made up for it was the fact that he was on it at all, and even looking forward to the days that stretched in front of him this summer. Severus read, stretched, and amused himself by appearing in places he was not wanted, and so was in a good mood by the time the train pulled into King's Cross, even after being nattered at by Sylvie Sinistra about her oh-so-exciting upcoming summer trip to the island of Hydra. Severus disembarked immediately, and, together with Sylvie, went about imposing some sort of order on the chaos that usually occurred when the Express reached its destination.

Then all was dust and bother and idiot students being unable to spot their idiot parents even after being pointed twice in the right direction. Severus, who was planning to Apparate home to Spinner's End after everything was settled (or at least relatively so), did not look for Bella or Antares. And yet –

"Mum!" Antares' squeal was not particularly loud or particularly different from that of the other students, but somehow Severus' eyes were drawn to the boy anyway. Perhaps because –

"There you are," Bella said, laughing as Antares stumbled over something to get to her. Severus decided to allow himself to be distracted just this once – she looked nothing like herself, as always, especially if you didn't count her bearing, or her mannerisms, or the way she absently scanned the platform as if looking for threats, or even the way she seized hold of Antares as if she never wanted to let him out of her sight again. "Where's your trunk, Antares?"

Severus only just stopped himself from going over to help, and tried not to watch or listen too closely or too obviously as Antares blundered around for his trunk and finally found it. Then it was inevitable that he talk to Bella, because she was leading Antares in this direction, and why had he thought to place himself near the Floo platforms? It could only mean that –

"Ah! Professor Snape, is it?" Bella looked perfectly composed, saying that. It almost hurt, if he didn't look into her eyes and see the small mischief and more substantial worry in them.

"Of course," he said rudely, because anyone listening would –

"Delighted to meet you," Bella said, seizing hold of his entirely too willing hands and pumping it up and down. "I don't know if you remember me – I'm Antares' mother."

"I see," Severus said, and it did hurt, to have to extract his hand from hers and sneer at her. "Your son did quite well this year."

"That's the first I'm hearing of it, Antares," Bella said, giving the fidgeting boy a stern look. "Oh – sometimes I think he never boasts half as much as he should."

"We'll try to cure him of that, Mrs. Black," Severus said, his tone coldly polite. "If you'll excuse me –"

"Of course," Bella said, her look of embarrassment interestingly realistic. "Come on, dear."

It was nearly all Severus could do not to follow them, and his thankless task of continuing to organise those students that were left on the platform seemed even worse after that. But, not ten minutes after Bella and Antares had finally gained the use of one of the Floos (he hadn't been able to not look for that) Severus' hand began to tingle. He checked it surreptitiously as soon as he could, and chided himself for his beating heart and excited anticipation.

Home safe. When on earth are you coming?

Severus sighed, and, after a quick good-bye to Sylvie and a rapid check for his miniaturised luggage in his pockets, Apparated home.

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The living room was messy, overflowing with giggling mannequins and fabric, and Antares was nowhere to be seen. Which was why Severus headed straight for Bella's busy form and – "Severus…!" – coerced her into a kiss.

"I really hope you won't be this unwise all summer," Bella said tartly, but she was blushing encouragingly, and her arms seemed loathe to let him go. "We'll speak tonight, of course, but –"

"But what?" Severus whispered, a little distracted by her half-hearted struggle to be free of his embrace. "Surely we can –"

"It won't be possible," Bella said, dashing his hopes. "We can't count on him being distracted every night –"

Severus smirked. "You were planning on having me every night? How flattering."

"Shut up," Bella muttered darkly, but he could tell she didn't mean it, as she followed it up with a quick kiss. "Now let go – Antares'll be down in a minute."

Reluctantly, Severus did so. It did not help his hopes that Antares was down in the requisite minute, chattering incessantly and commandeering his mother at once so they could make dinner together 'like we used to'. Bella smiled, being easily convinced, and was away with nary a look over her shoulder in the direction of Severus' crestfallen face. Sighing, he began to make his way upstairs to stow away his trunk – he certainly couldn't neglect that just because he was annoyed at the situation, especially since temporarily shrunken objects had a nasty habit of returning to their full size at odd times if the caster of the spell was irritated enough, as he was.

Severus' mood didn't improve as he entered his room and began the process of resizing and unpacking his trunk, surrounded as he was by reminders of Bella's inhabitancy. The bed was long since cold, and everything was relatively neat, but the room smelled like her, and that was more than enough to set Severus' mind to fashioning plans to get them together without Antares noticing. He only felt a little ashamed of himself when he played with the idea of drugging the odious boy instead of dismissing it outright, and soon abandoned the unsatisfying process of levitating things into his wardrobe in favour of tramping down to the kitchen to turn up something to eat.

Though unexpected, it was incredibly heartening to meet Bella heaving up the stairs with an already sleepy Antares in tow. "I'm surprised myself," she murmured, in reply to Severus' inquisitive look. "I think it was the train journey."

"Make sure you lock his door," Severus couldn't resist saying as he opened it for her to stagger through. Bella merely rolled her eyes, opting instead to shake Antares into some small alertness so he could undress himself. " Ill be in the kitchen, if you need me. Or should I say when?"

"Oh, begone," Bella replied crossly, and Severus took it to heart. The kitchen was surprisingly clean – Bella's influence, perhaps? In any case, it made it easy for Severus to discover a pot of something mashed and horrid-looking, but fairly delicious. He'd just settled in to eat a plate of the odd-looking meal when Bella appeared once more.

"Don't tell me what this is, please," Severus said, as she opened her mouth to say something. "I think I'm hungry enough that I don't care."

Bella shrugged, sliding into a seat opposite him. "Your fault," she said practically. "If you'd been down here while we were making it…"

"I suppose I should have been," Severus replied, his tone careful. Bella gave him an oddly piercing look, then sighed – what was that about? "If you really wanted me to be down here –"

"For dinner?" she interrupted. "That's not – well…not what I wanted to talk about."

"Don't you think it would be better to talk this over in bed?" Severus asked, his tone direct. It was surprisingly hard to keep from blushing as he did so, but the small, crafty smile on Bella's face was more than worth the effort.

"I'd rather not tempt myself any further, thank you," she said shortly, directing that smile down at the table. "But really, Severus, you never finished telling me what happened that night." With those words, the tension between them increased, changing to something darker. "I know…I know you don't want to think about it, but –"

"It isn't exactly that," Severus said quietly, but he knew it was. And from the look Bella gave him, she did too. "Quirrell is dead."

"Yes." But…? she seemed to add, with a look.

Severus set down his cutlery, wondering how on earth his fingers remained steady. "The Dark Lord…escaped." Bella said nothing. She didn't need to – the look on her face was enough.

"So – so he is still –"

"Alive? Barely, but –"

"But still alive, as you said," Bella said impatiently, her fingers picking violently at the table. "You should just have said that, instead of –"

"But it's important," Severus insisted. "He –"

"It's only important that we know how to kill him," Bella snapped. "I didn't know he could – didn't know how, even, how he could survive something like that."

"Join the club," Severus sneered. "Do you think I knew? Even Albus only guessed, and half-heartedly, at that."

Bella bit her lip. "Wh-where is he? Now, I mean…?"

"Certainly no longer on the British Isles," Severus said wearily, scratching at his neck. "If so, Albus would be able to hunt him down. I'd probably be by his side."

Bella drew in a sharp breath. "You'd risk that?" When Severus made no answer, she dragged a shaking hand through her hair. "Why?" From the dread in her eyes, she already knew, but it bore saying anyway.

"Being on the spot would be…expected."

"By both of them?" she said slowly, her tone filled with horror. "But – that's monstrous."

It was hard to say the next few words, but Severus managed it. "Bella, I was – I am a spy. A traitor. Is that not monstrous in itself?" She seemed to deflate at that, and, abandoning her nervous tics entirely, she stretched out and claimed his hand, which Severus abruptly realised was shaking, again. "You know he will find a way to return. When that happens –"

"If," Bella insisted, squeezing his hand. It was useless, really, but it made Severus feel that much better.

"If that happens," he continued, "you and Antares will need a safer place to live."

"I'm no fool, Severus, I know that," Bella whispered. "I – I'll start looking." Then Severus abandoned his seat and crossed to hers, because she had begun to cry, silently, almost angrily. It was some time before she spoke again, and when she did, her voice was toneless and bleak. "Will – Dumbledore will need help."

Severus nodded. "I think he'll angle for yours when the time comes, but I'm not sure –"

"He'll have it," she said quietly, and Severus knew not to bother trying to dissuade her then. "I'm sorry we can't –"

"It's fine," Severus said tiredly, rising to his feet. Bella echoed his action slowly and slipped an arm about his waist, then gave him a hard, uncompromising kiss that made his body begin to protest that it was not fine at all. "We – I should go."

But Bella was not yet ready to let him go. "Tomorrow night," she whispered into his neck. "I'll manage it, I swear."

I can wait till tomorrow. "Till then, then." Another kiss ensued, and then they began the journey upstairs, separating slowly as they neared Antares room. It ended with a farewell kiss in front of Severus' door – and how it rankled that they could not go in together – and then Bella was tiptoeing into the room she ostensibly shared with Antares, leaving Severus to a cold bed and warm room that smelt too much like her for real rest to be on the cards for him tonight.

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A/N: Never thought I'd bloody FINISH this, I'll tell you that. I was starting to dread looking at the file at all – the words just weren't coming, and I felt bad. Somehow, after a healthy infusion of doing other stuff, I got ready to write this weekend, and it's all just coming back. I think I'll try to start some notes for the next story (I'm doing separate stories for each year, you see) after finishing off this one, you know – try and hold on to the inspiration as long as I can…but till then, onward, onward to the Intermission, and goodbye for now. Oh, and apologies for the weird divider - somehow, the usual one isn't working in the editor today.

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