February 15, 1975 - Hogwarts

Severus slammed the lab door behind him, smirking as the loud noise echoed around the dungeons. He didn't know why he'd gotten the idea to do it, but there was a certain satisfaction in letting out his annoyance that way.

Now, however, he had to focus on his potion; especially if he wanted to be finished before curfew. Slughorn had claimed it to be advanced, but scanning quickly through the ingredients and brewing process, Severus found it to be no more difficult than the potions he liked to brew on a regular basis. Certainly, it was easier than the strength potion he was currently working to improve.

Deftly, he gathered the necessary ingredients from the storage room, laying them out neatly on his table. There was no other preparation required, thankfully, and Severus quickly began the first step of the brew.

He soon lost himself in the work, enjoying the smooth rhythm of stirring, cutting, and adjusting the flames. Unbeknownst to him, a small smile slowly worked itself onto his face, morphing into a full-out grin when, two hours later, the potion was finished perfectly.

He sighed in satisfaction, decanting the brilliant blue liquid into individual vials. His hands were cramped slightly from holding the stirring rod, but he was glad that his adjustment to the amount of murtlap had cut the cooling time in half. He'd have to write it down in his textbook, although Merlin knew if he'd be able to find the space amongst his notes.

Quickly cleaning his workspace, Severus made the long, upward trek to the hospital wing. Before he'd left the dungeons, he'd placed silencing spells on his boots, and his robe. This hour, just before curfew, was prime snake-hunting time, and he usually endeavored to stay in his common room once it got dark. He couldn't bail on Madam Pomfrey, however, so he walked quietly, and cautiously, on the lookout for any assailants.

There were none, fortunately, and he sighed quietly in relief as he came to the infirmary doors. He was just about to step through when he heard two voices coming from inside, and quickly decided not to interfere.

Backing away slightly, Severus leaned towards the door, straining to make out the voices. He recognized one as the mediwitch immediately, but the second was harder to distinguish.

"...didn't want to alarm the girl; I truly don't think she's aware. But this magic – Minnie, I haven't seen anything like it."

Severus furrowed his brows, fairly certain he knew the second voice to be Professor McGonagall, now.

"Do you have any idea where it's from?"

Pomfrey took a second to reply. "A cursed object, I would presume, although a dark spell is also a possibility. The magic is slowly feeding off of her mind, and I worry that there will be effects to it that I don't know how to fix."

Severus strained to hear McGonagall's reply as their voices lowered.

"...heal her?"

"...a way to identify the dark magic….separate her from the source, or... counterspell to it. But I'm not qualified enough to do any of it."

"...send her to Saint Mungo's then?"

"Ideally."

Severus heard McGonagall sigh tiredly, and the rustling of clothes. "It's a shame; she was almost finished with her month of the Mandrake leaf... I'll go tell Albus, then, he'll need to sign off the paperwork."

"Thanks, Minnie," Pomfrey replied softly.

Severus heard footsteps heading towards him, and realized that if he didn't move quickly he'd be caught eavesdropping. So, before McGonagall could get any closer to the door, he knocked loudly, surely startling the witches inside.

"Come in," Pomfrey called, and he pushed open the door. McGonagall nodded briefly to him, and left the room, while the matron smiled gently to him when she noticed the potion in his hands.

"Thank you, Severus, sweetheart," she said, taking the vials from him. She pointed towards an occupied bed in the back of the Wing, and smiled. "I'll tell Miss Nazyalensky it's from you."

Severus froze, his eyes shooting immediately to the figure underneath the covers. Why on earth would Cassiopeia need an Anti-Concussion potion? he thought worriedly, before firmly squashing the thought. He didn't care. If she was hurt, then she deserved it for hurting him.

"No need, Madame Pomfrey," he answered coldly.

•••

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!