a/n oops so the three weeks was a loottt longer than three weeks. but here is another chapter! im also about halfway through the next chapter so there'll be another one most likely soon-ish (i mean i said that last time and here we are, but i think this time it'll actually be soon!) anyway, love you all, hope you enjoy!

As she sat in her chair at the end of the Great Hall, Lynn came to the uncomfortable realisation of just how hard and wooden her seat was. Under much more usual circumstances, it would not have bothered her so, but everything that had transpired the night before seemed to amplify the stiffness of it, despite the ache potions she had downed not long ago. Lynn stared at the copious amount breakfast foods that lined the table, and felt bile rise in her throat at the thought of having to eat any of it. This morning it might be best if she did not eat anything. After all, perhaps she did not deserve it, Voldemort had certainly punished her so. Lynn was more than content to leave her plate empty, but felt the uncomfortable tickle of someone else's eyes on her. She looked up the table, and saw McGonagall's eyes firmly planted on her, with a quite unreadable look on her face. Lynn flicked her own eyes back down to the empty plate in front of her, and the nauseating amount of food that sat unceremoniously on dishes.

Forcing air into the furthest corners of her lungs, she grabbed a piece of toast from the stack in front of her, and the butter, then slathered one with the other. As much as she did not want to eat, she knew that she could not show any form of weakness in front of McGonagall, not in general, and definitely not now, after the poor state she last saw her in. There was no room for excessive interference from an Order member, when already it was hard enough to gain information for Voldemort.

Lynn pushed her mind to any other topic except the piece toast she was biting off, desperately trying to ignore the urge to throw it up on her plate right then and there. She thought about her classes, the homework she had to mark for her third years, and the detention she was supposed to oversee that evening involving a mouthy fifth year. A much too long thirty seconds later, the toast had disappeared from her plate, and she quickly gulped some water from her cup to make sure it stayed that way. Soon after, it was almost time for her first class, and she along with the rest of the students and faculty, left the Great Hall.

The rest of the day seemed to go without any troubles, aside from Lynn's painful joints. That was until her last class of the day. It was fourth-year Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's, a lesson that didn't include much of her own interference; they were in the middle of a project in pairs, and Lynn was extremely grateful she had agreed to let them work on it in the days lesson, another lesson full of standing and talking might have taken the rest out of her. She sat behind her desk most of the time, marking work and lesson planning. Halfway through, she got up and walked around the classroom, listening in on each of the pairs, just making sure they were all doing their work and were on task.

One of the pairs, Dawson and Kirkby, both Ravenclaws (and very distracted Ravenclaws at that) were most definitely not discussing Arithmancy, and once Lynn heard the word 'Death Eater', she listened closer.

"-I don't know though, they all seem pretty terrifying," said Kirkby, biting his thumb nail.

"Yeah," replied Dawson, "Well I know who I'm most afraid of. Beside You-Know-Who himself obviously."

"Who?" Kirkby's eyes widened in interest, and he leaned a bit closer.

"Antonin Dolohov. He got out of Azkaban in the mass break out. Have you seen his wanted posters? He's scary as hell," Dawson said, his voice a whisper.

Dolohov. The word rung in her ears, and his face appeared clear as day in her head. And then so did Lestrange, Rosier, and Rockwood's. She saw the tree, and the branch, the night sky. She felt their arms pinning hers to the ground, roughly and violently, and smelt their sickly body odour, their breath and the way they held their bodies and faces much too close. She felt the pain of tree roots sticking into her back, of her head being hit against the trunk, their nails digging into her skin, her legs being moved out of the way so they could-

"Professor!"

Kirkby and Dawson were looking at her in concern, and she looked around to see the rest of the class staring also. Lynn's hand was gripping the back of Kirkby's chair so hard it was hurting. Her breath was loud and fast in her ears, and so was her heartbeat. She slowly released the chair from her grip, and went to move her hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. As she did she felt her cheeks wet, and with intense humiliation realised she was crying.

"Are you alright, Professor?" asked Dawson, creases on his forehead.

It took her a second to realise she was being spoken to. "Uh- yes, I'm- I'm fine. If you'll excuse me, I need a minute. Continue with your work." Quickly, and without thinking about anything other than her need to get out of there, away from the eyes of people, Lynn all but ran from the room and found her feet routing her to the nearest staff bathroom.

Once the door shut behind her, she sighed heavily, and felt the nausea from breakfast increase tenfold, except this time there was actually substance in her stomach, and that substance demanded to be expelled. Noisily, she threw open a stall door, and practically fell to her knees in front of the toilet. Everything she had eaten today, which admittedly was not all that much, came back out through her mouth. Her stomach muscles convulsed painfully, and even after it was most definitely empty, they continued. She was so preoccupied by throwing up everything she had in her that she didn't hear the bathroom door open, or the click of footsteps on the tiles approach her feeble form. It was only when Severus spoke that she realised he was standing almost directly behind her.

"I wasn't aware abandoning your students in the middle of a lesson was an acceptable teaching practice," he said, his emotionless drawl making her want to hit him if she wasn't very dependent on the porcelain bowl she was hugging.

Attempting to swallow down the nausea, she said, "What do you want, Severus?"

"I walked past your classroom to see it unoccupied and in chaos, all of them talking about you and Death Eaters. If you're going to continue to put yourself in situations where students will figure out your alliances with the Dark Lord, we are going to have a problem. Rioting students is the last thing we need, news about the Carrows is already spreading quickly." While he talked, he continued to stay put, staring down at her from his stoic standing position, not even bothering to attempt to help. "We can't have distractions from the Dark Lord's missions."

"I-," she started, then gagged into the toilet. After swallowing thickly she tried again. "I would never purposefully distract from his wishes, but as you can see this is not quite voluntary."

It seemed that until that moment, Severus had not properly taken in her appearance and position. He scanned her up and down, then cocked his head to the side and reached for something in his pocket. It was a vial, some kind of potion.

"Here," he said, "Take this. It's anti-nausea and should help you get back to containing your students."

Lynn took the vial from his extended arm, and drank it. She muttered a thank you, and almost immediately started to feel the effects. Standing up slowly, she straightened out her robes and was thankful that it seemed no vomit got on her clothes or in her hair. Severus started to leave, but then paused at the door.

"Is this," he gestured to her still slightly dishevelled appearance. "Something I need be concerned about?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

He seemed satisfied with this answer and left the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. Lynn turned to the bathroom mirror, and saw an exhausted and dishevelled woman staring back at her. She walked over to the sink, and braced herself on it, staring at her own face. Her cheeks looked hollower, her pallor was much paler than usual, and the bags under her eyes were very prominent. She leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting her eyes. They too, looked slightly unfamiliar in shape, and she could swear one of her eyes had flecks of... blue.

"Shit," she swore, and fumbled to get her wand out of her pocket.

In all the mess of that evening and her exhaustion today, she'd let her glamour slip. Now, if that happened, it would end in disaster.