Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, as should be obvious. They belong to a brilliant woman by the name of J. K. Rowling.

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Notes:

E.R.U.S. = Elite Responders for Unhandleable Situations, a team of the highest ranking Aurors in the world put together by the Ministry of Magic to handle the unhandleable. They were accused by the Ministry of treason and muggle-slaughter, though the true culprits were the Death Eaters, and now live as wanted men/women.

Voldemorts age: In this story he would be only a few years senior to Snape, having graduated from Hogwarts just a few years before him. Thought I should let you know just in case any of you are really into the chronology.

Cheers!

Loyal Heart

Ch 4

As If There Ever Might Be

He didn't quite remember the walk back to the dungeons. It was all one long rolling blur of corridor after darkened corridor. The next thing he knew he was at the door of his office.

"Sectumsempra" he murmured under his breath. The door swung aside. Things that hadn't been brought to mind in years had been surfacing his entire walk back, and he knew that as soon as he was alone they would overwhelm him. He hurried inside, slamming the door shut as he passed and immediately beginning to pace.

How many times had he worried for her? How many times had he searched the Daily Prophet, The Wizarding World, even the Quibbler for signs of her? How many obituaries had he scoured praying every second he wouldn't see her name? And how many times had he actually thought…

The papers were never decisive on the matter. One month she was declared dead, the next month someone would report that they had seen her. But slowly, Miss Gelladrin Grimstone's whereabouts became old hat. As the readers interest and reported sightings began to dwindle so did the news of her, and so did hope.

The night Gelladrin escaped was a horrendous failure for both the Ministry and the Dark Lord. Both had taken serious losses in their attempts to kill the members of the E.R.U.S.. Many of the hunted aurors had escaped into hiding, including Ms. Grimstone. Though that was enough to flout the Ministry, there were far fewer barriers in the Dark Lord's search. She had been vital in ruining His plans for some time. And he was determined she die.

She had known Him well. They had played together as children before he had gone to the orphanage. A few years after both had finished school at Hogwarts, the two had become engaged. Not of course, because Tom Riddle could be or was ever in love, but rather because she was beautiful, another symbol of his power, a possession.

She had never known what he truly was. She had been under the impression that he had a job at the ministry, investigating the violence of a new group of miscreants called the Death Eaters and their mysterious leader, Voldemort. Little did she know, little did anyone know at the time that he, Tom Riddle and this madman were one in the same. He wouldn't revealed himself as such for years, waiting for the fear surrounding his title to build, for panic to fester and spread, before he showed himself to the world and stepped into the horrific glory he spent so long creating.

All that time she'd never known. But Severus had. He had known for a year by the time she found out. It burned him to think that he had had to sit there and keep his silence while she believed that that murderer was a good man. It had been for her safety, but disgusted him all the same.

Severus had been one of those assigned to look for her after she disappeared those seven years ago. He had done so willingly, often redirecting the rest of the search party so that he might search the places he thought she might actually be. Once the Dark Lords was satisfied that she would not resurface, the searches stopped. However, if she were ever to be seen again, it was His order that she be killed on sight. And if the Ministry happened to catch up to her before He did, the best she could hope for was a life sentence in Azkaban.

At that point all Severus could do was pray he found her first. Years passed this way. After all that time with no sign of her, he had resorted to living newspaper to newspaper. Now he was not only angry at her but angry at himself. This was madness. These thoughts of the past had to stop. They would do nothing for him now. Severus restlessly wandered his office, looking for anything to take his mind away from her. Finally he focused in on his private collection of potions.

He opened the cabinet and revealed rows of gleaming bottles of every color. He began to move them about, rearrange, dust them off…He never realized how many of them were sleeping potions. He had built up immunity to just about every sleeping potion known to man trying to tame the fears that dwelled in the dark. Those nights where he would be on the border of sleep and swear he heard her say his name. He would sit bolt upright and search the shadows for her, for hope. Of course, neither could be found there.

What a fool. What a fool he had been to hold on so long! To care so much! And for what? Nothing. For seven years, nothing and no one. Then on the day of his promotion, there she was to take it out from under him. He had needed her there in those years past. And to up and vanish like that…But blast it, there he was thinking of her again!

He slammed the cabinet doors and resumed his search for something to distract him. The bookshelf! He moved swiftly to it and began reorganizing. He didn't use magic for this task because alphabetizing by hand took more of his attention. After 'A' through 'C' had been completed he came across a copy of Defensive Magic and It's Darker Developments, one of his favorites. But it was not his. He slowly opened the front cover, knowing already what was scrolled there in graceful cursive.

'Property of Gelladrin Grimstone,' he read silently. 'And so help you if you've stolen it.'

It had been one of her favorites too. She had lent it to him a few weeks before she vanished. He had flipped through it's pages so often. Not just to reread, but to see the beautiful scrolling marks in the margins where she had made notes. He liked her handwriting. It reminded him of how she walked; delicate, gliding, sweeping motions that left a mark on him as if he himself were a page in the book.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn! He thought and tossed the book aside.

It seemed she was everywhere he turned. Severus departed from the shelves of volumes and went to his desk, seating himself hastily and throwing open drawers, more determined than ever to get her off his mind. He cursed himself for having such a well kept desk. He needed something, anything, a distraction in any form. He then remembered the false bottom in the middle drawer on the left hand side. He opened it and rummaged about. Old letters, a few rather deadly ingredients that he couldn't risk being found and a picture torn from a newspaper years ago. A picture of her on the last day anyone knew for certain she was still alive. It had been on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

The day after her escape she had turned up once more at the Ministry with the others of the E.R.U.S. who had survived the night. They had come demanding justice; a proper investigation and a trial to prove their innocence. When the Ministry refused and demanded their surrender, they raised hell inside the Ministry for a good four hour before vanishing one by one. She was one of the last to go. The picture was taken as she ran for the front entrance of the Ministry, two guards in hot pursuit. At the top she turned to face them, a rebellious smile on her face and one last trick in her eyes. She winked once and the two towering wooden doors ripped themselves from the hinges and collapsed inwards. The guards threw themselves out of the way. But when they looked up she was gone, apparated away through the gaping hole E.R.U.S. made in their defenses.

As he stared at the torn page, images from earlier that evening wafted back to him. In his minds eye he could see her waiting in the hall outside of the Headmasters office. He had seen it before. The way the moon glinted off her hair, the way she turned to look at him with those expectant eyes, even where she was standing made the recollection of one particular night spring to life. At the time he had tamped the pain down but now alone it began to consume him.

The night that Lilly died Gelladrin had been standing there waiting for him, just as she had tonight, to hear the news. He had managed to collect himself somewhat before descending to meet her. But those eyes, those glorious crystalline eyes seem to pry the truth from him without him having to utter a single sound. She knew. He hadn't needed to tell her anything. It was then, standing there in silence just as they had tonight, that he lost control. In the midst of that profound quiet, he felt as if the floor had opened up beneath him, as if he would fall forever. Though he was barely aware of it, his knees began to buckle beneath him. For an instant the world was devoid of all substance, of all beings and of everything important. He felt nothing save the motion of air breezing past him as he began to crumble, surely destined to fall for eternity. But then, just before he hit the ground he felt two arms around him, catching him, stopping his descent and lowering him gently the rest of the way to his knees. The floor was still there, he had stopped falling and there was someone. Slowly he became aware of whom. His eyes came to focus on Gelladrins face. He opened his mouth as if to speak. No sound came out but how he pleaded.

'Make it stop! Please, make this not real! Save me from this! Help me!'

No sound, but she heard him. She could see him drowning. He searched her for any signs of dreaming but there were none. All he could find was yet more confirmation that this wreck was reality. She made no sound, but he heard her. It was all over her face.

'I am so sorry.'

With that he broke down, weeping into her shoulder for he couldn't imagine how long. She sat there with him infolded in her arms, silent. She knew that there were no words that could possibly come close to comfort. What was more she had kept that silence. She had never told a soul about that one dark night in the Headmaster's hallway, and they had never spoken of it again.

He had held onto her ever since that night. He knew she was the only thing that had kept him from destruction. Unfortunately he had only come to realize it in her absence. Without her there, no one was. There was no Lily, there was no Gelladrin, there was nothing.

Nothing!

His thoughts were punctuated as he slammed his fists down on his desk, the picture of her crumpling in his iron grip. For a moment, all was still and quiet though an inward storm was roaring. He didn't remember rising from his chair, but he found himself standing, leaning heavily on the wooden table before him. He then became aware that he was panting hard and his heart was pounding. God how he wanted to hate her, and oh how he was trying. But alas, he could not.

Tonight would be sleepless, he knew, and tomorrow a very long day. The students would be arriving, pouring through the castle like water and there would be no peace after that.

As if there had ever been, he thought with a smirk. Slowly he unfurled his hand to reveal her lovely face once more. His eyes grew somber as they fell upon her.

As if there ever might be…