Poles Apart

by Slytherin99

Snape survived, but in a coma. Headmistress McGonagall arranges for a Russian professor to take over teaching potions, but she has some secrets of her own...and that's only the beginning of the story. Post DH, mostly compliant, perhaps AU, with several OCs. Rated M for safety. Chapter 6-10 revised 1/30/15.

2. Chapter 1 to 5

~Chapter 1~

October 31, 1979, 40 miles southeast of Moscow~

The sun had set nearly three hours ago, but the light from burning houses turned the skies as red as if it were just sundown. Black smoke rose lazily toward the treetops before being whisked off by the bitter wind.

"You have the locket?"

"I do, my lord." The Death Eater said, bowing low before his master as he offered the box.

"Excellent." Voldemort hissed, accepting it and tucking it into his robes, then surveying the others. "Leave young Malfoy and Snape to clean up the survivors, if there are any. We return now."

"As you direct, my lord."

With a swirl of black smoke, the Dark Lord was gone, along with several of the other Death Eaters. Rupert Brodey turned to the two young men with a disapproving scowl.

"You two heard our lord." He said coldly. "Clean up this mess. Don't get caught by the Aurors while you're doing it."

"But sir, the revels-"

Brodey turned to glare at Lucius Malfoy, who swallowed nervously, involuntarily taking a step back.

"You are still too young to attend." He said in a cold voice, sniffing dismissively. "Fresh out of Hogwarts, the two of you, and barely able to raise enough whiskers to shave. You will do as you're told."

"Yes, sir." Lucius sighed, glancing at Severus with a frown.

With a curt nod, Brodey was gone in a swirl of smoke.

With a dramatic sigh, Lucius rolled his eyes at Severus.

"What a git. I'm off to Moscow, Sev." He smirked. "Have a date in an hour."

"Lucius, we need to check for survivors." Snape pointed out, gesturing toward the smoking ruins of the mansion with his wand. "We have our orders-"

"Orders be damned." Malfoy sighed. "I'm going to be late for my date if I stay. Be a good sport and cover for me, would you?"

With a grudging sigh, Severus nodded.

"Good man." Lucius said, clapping him on the shoulder. "There's nothing here you can't handle. Perhaps a few werewolves, but you have experience taking care of those, don't you?"

Severus flinched visibly at that mention of werewolves, gritting his teeth at the memory of his experiences with them so far.

With a crack, Lucius apparated away, leaving his friend and cohort alone in the dark woods. The snow was nearly knee deep by now in places, driven as it was by the howling winds that cut through the thin black robes Severus wore like a knife despite the warming charms he'd cast.

He would have stood up his date in a heartbeat if he'd been invited to the revel tonight, thought Severus bitterly, kicking at a bit of snow with his dragonhide boot. Always pushing things off on me. Some friend Malfoy is.

With a disgusted sigh, he began to trudge through the snow toward the smoking ruins of the nearest house. Pulling his cowl of his robe up to give some protection against the weather, he renewed his warming charms, hoping he would be able to apparate home soon. Winters in Russia weren't pleasant in the city, let alone this desolate country area. The ancient trees that towered above him didn't do much to break the icy winds, despite their immense size.

He heard them coming before they saw him, as the two werewolves were so intent on reaching their prey that they didn't notice Severus until they were nearly past him. Two quick unforgivables, dispensed in rapid-fire fashion, two dead werewolves, slowly turning human again as they stared sightlessly at nothing. Silently he walked past the two corpses, brooding on the turn his life had taken.

Two more black marks on my soul, he thought, looking over at the remains of the house. How many orphans and widows did I just create? How many more lives will I take now that I've started down this dark path?

An old wizard, crawling through the snow, another unforgivable ending a life. Severus gritted his teeth, moving on toward the next house, putting the man's feeble cries from his mind.

It was a kindness, he told himself. With no legs and half his face gone, he wouldn't have lasted long anyway, not in this bitter cold.

The tall young man closed his eyes, sighing in dejection as he leaned against one of the huge trees, dark hair falling over his face as he hung his head.

Don't kid yourself; yet another sin to bear. There will be no forgiveness for me, no redemption. The die is cast, there's no turning back now.

A noise drew his attention, and he moved toward another house, his black robes billowing out behind him as he slogged through the snow. It wasn't a familiar one, being larger and more ornately furnished than the poor hovels he'd destroyed with Lucius. The other Death Eaters had brushed them aside, choosing the ripest plums for themselves, as a bit of looting was actually approved of by the Dark Lord. No, this was more of an estate, with the remains of a beautiful old mansion still smoking in places. Jumping lightly through the frame of a shattered window, he spotted a single werewolf clawing frantically at a door, fairly slobbering and whimpering with excitement.

"Avada Kedavra!" Severus said, pointing his wand at the werewolf. The jet of green light struck it square in the back, and it collapsed against the door.

"Let's see what you were so hungry for." He murmured to the corpse, shoving it aside with his boot. Taking hold of the doorknob, he twisted it and pulled the door open, wand at the ready.

Crouching in the closet, among the hanging clothing, was a little girl of perhaps six years of age, clutching a teddy bear, her gray eyes widening in terror as she stared up at him. Trembling in fright, her eyes darted to his, then to each side, then back to his, her mouth gasping for air as she looked for a way to escape. Her clothes were filthy rags, though it was obvious that they were once of good quality. Auburn hair, matted and dirty, mostly held back from her face by a scarlet ribbon. Wrapped around her was a dirty, but relatively intact blanket, decorated with a coat of arms that meant nothing to the young Death Eater; a black double headed eagle.

For a moment, young Severus Snape was transfixed, his black eyes held fast by the girl's gray ones. They were standing close enough that their breath mingled in the cold air, forming a cloud between them. His orders forgotten, he stood there numbly.

I…have to kill her, he thought, though his hand failed to raise his wand. My orders are to kill all survivors.

But who would know?

For years afterwards, he tried and failed to understand why he did what he did next.

Hesitantly, he put his wand away and knelt, holding his hand out to her.

"You're…" He coughed, his voice failing him at first, forcing him to clear his throat.

"You're safe now." He said, his voice still unsteady. "The werewolves are gone now."

The girl hesitated for a long moment, frowning, then slowly, a step at a time, warily moved toward him.

What am I doing? He thought, watching her come closer. I was ordered to execute survivors.

Her tiny hand finally touched his, icy cold fingers wrapping around his warmer, larger digits. Despite her fear, she looked up at him and offered a hesitant, shy smile, even though she still was still shivering-with fear or cold, who could tell.

I have to get her out of here. He thought, and then shook his head as if to clear the idea away. This is madness; I can't take care of her. No one must know that I spared her.

But where could I take her? Who could protect her?

I'm barely 19 years old; I can't raise a child by myself. Not as a Death Eater, not on my meager inheritance, in a dingy hovel in Spinner's End. What kind of life would it be for her?

I don't know anything about children.

Think. Think, Severus!

Where can I go? Where could I take her?

Considering his options carefully, after a few agonizing minutes, he finally had an idea.

The Razins, he thought with a sigh of relief. They live only a few kilometers from here. Stenka owes me a favor or two, given what happened with his son.

I'll take her there, and no one will know.

Nobody needs to know the truth.

Only me; she's far too young to tell anyone of my disobedience of the Dark Lord's orders. Once she's with the Razins, I'll never see her again, and she'll be safe.

He swallowed nervously, then took his outer cloak off and carefully wrapped her in its warmth.

"Tell me, dear," Severus asked, "did your parents ever side-along apparate with you?"

Confusion warred with anxiety on her face, and she shrank back from him, cowering in the closet after yanking her hand free from his. Her expression finally settled on something more resembling stubborn resolve, her jaw set firmly as she glared up at him, her grey eyes dark with suspicion.

Idiot, he silently rebuked himself. What on earth gave you the idea that she understands English?

For a moment, he thought, struggling to think of the words, trying to phrase what he needed to say in his mind. While he had studied Russian, his command of that language left much to be desired. He looked at her, smiled-not too much, as he didn't want to show his crooked teeth that had been a constant source of embarrassment to him, and spoke carefully.

"Um…Ваши родители никогда…у вас с ними бок о вдоль привидение? Куда-то, что он чувствовал, что…um…вы были вытесняют?"

Mutely she nodded, a shadow of sadness moving across her face to darken her eyes further.

"Мама…" The tiny girl whispered, pointing with an unsteady finger toward a lump covered by another blanket. He glanced over at it, spotting another corpse nearby, likewise covered with a dirty sheet.

She did this, he thought uneasily. She covered them…after they were killed.

Severus swallowed nervously, unwilling to lift the blanket and look at what lay beneath; his sensitive nose had already told him enough. He picked her up and set her on his hip, surprised not only at how light she was, but also that she put her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. Such close intimate contact made him uneasy, as he had never had much of it, not since he was a child himself. He lifted his cloak off her face and spoke gently to her.

"Я собираюсь аппарировать с вами, принять вас в надежном месте. Будет ли это хорошо?"

Her gray eyes not leaving his face, she nodded again. He covered her up as best as he could against the bitter winds, and walked away from the smoking ruins of the mansion.

With a crack and a swirl of black smoke, they both disappeared.

oOo

November 1, 1990, Durmstang Institute~

"What did you get, Inga?"

"Herpo the Foul." Said the blonde girl, her lip curled in disgust. "Do you want it? I've got, like six of them."

"No way!" The short brunette laughed. "Maybe if you have a Merlin, I might consider it."

"Shh. Somebody's coming." The third girl, a skinny blond with short hair hissed urgently.

"Oh, it's just Princess Romanov, Nadia." Inga sneered. "I'm not scared of her, just because she's a prefect."

"Shh! She hexed Igor Pushkin last week." Nadia whispered as she nervously watched the third-year student approach them, seemingly paying no mind to them as they stood near the wall.

"Good evening, Prefect Romanov." The short brunette said, smirking nervously as she came nearer.

"Oh, good evening, Prefect Romanov." Inga said boldly, smiling. "On your way back from the library?"

As if noticing them for the first time, Anastasiya Romanov turned her cold grey eyes on the three first years, the light from the torches in the hallway reflecting off of the gleaming silver prefect's badge that she wore on the collar of her robes. She shifted her book bag, laden as it was indeed with books from the library, and coolly regarded the younger students.

"It is almost time for dinner." She said, fixing each of them in turn with a steely glare. "Should you not be on your way to the Great Hall, rather than loitering, gossiping in the hallway?"

"We were just trading some Chocolate Frog cards, Prefect." Inga said, with a smile. "We're not doing anything wrong. We were about to head to the Great Hall now."

"Chocolate Frog cards?" Ana said, her lip curling into a disdainful sneer.

"Yes!" Inga said, holding her stack of cards up with an impudent smirk. "I have a nearly complete collection. Would you like to have some to get started?"

Ana glared at Inga for a moment, and then plucked the deck of cards from the first-year's hand.

"I'll be confiscating these." She said dryly, her grey eyes sparkling with mirth. "You may pick them up tomorrow from your head of house. Now, I suggest you all get yourselves to the Great Hall, and stop loitering in the hallways, or I will be taking points also. Now, off with you."

With a bitter glare, Inga stomped down the hallway, followed closely by her two friends, who were quite glad that their decks hadn't been confiscated.

Tucking the cards into a pocket of her robes, Ana made her way to her room in Vablatsky tower. Pushing the door open after unwarding it, she gently set her book bag near her writing desk, then took the confiscated deck of cards from her pocket and tossed it on the desk. As her aim was a bit off, the deck bounced off the edge of the desk, falling to the floor and snapping the rubber band that held them together. Cards went everywhere on her rug.

With a muttered oath, Ana knelt and began picking up the cards. She didn't have much time to be at the Great Hall for dinner, and really didn't need this aggravation today. Quickly she knelt and picked them up, stacking them in her hand. Picking up one of the cards, she happened to glance at it. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat as she froze, staring at the wizard depicted upon it.

It's him. She thought, staring at the card fixedly. It's definitely him. Merlin, what happened to him?

A soft hoot from her owl, Ivan, startled her from her daze. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she was shocked to see that she only had fifteen minutes to get to the Great Hall for dinner.

Carefully, she placed his card on her desk, and then quickly picked up the other cards, getting a new rubber band and securing them. Unbuttoning her robe, she picked up the card from her desk, tucking it into the pocket of her blouse, and then carefully buttoned her robe back up. Picking up the deck, she slipped it into a pocket in her robes, and headed to the Great Hall.

oOo

"100 Galleons." Inga said coldly, glaring over at her, her blue eyes burning with hatred.

"Too much." Ana said, a thin smile playing around her lips. "But I'm in a generous mood today. I'll give you five, and not one knut more. Five Galleons, and your deck back. Plus I don't write you up for loitering. You could lose thirty points for your house, if you're not careful here."

"You took my deck!" The blonde first-year hissed bitterly, trembling in her chair.

"I certainly did." The older student smirked. "Thus-quite literally-I hold all the cards."

"Bitch." Inga mumbled resentfully, her bottom lip quivering.

"It's a win-win situation for you." Prefect Romanov grinned wolfishly, sensing victory. "You get your deck back, your head of house knows nothing about your little breach of rules, and you get enough to buy enough Chocolate Frogs to make yourself and your friends sick as dogs. I'd call that a good deal."

"That's the only one I've ever seen!" Inga protested, begging now. "If you want to take one, take another one, but I may never find another one of him."

"No. This one is mine."

"Five Galleons? And my deck back?" The blonde sighed, defeated.

Ana slid the deck across the table, along with a leather bag that clinked slightly when it hit the table.

"Thank you." Inga murmured irritably, picking up the bag and the Chocolate Frog cards.

"Thank you, Inga." Ana smiled sweetly, knowing full well she was just fanning the flames.

Inga stomped off angrily, her deck and the bag of Galleons clutched tight in her hands.

Ana lay in her bed long after midnight, propped up on her pillows, a candle floating nearby for illumination as she stared at the card. Every five minutes, she turned the card over to reset it after the wizard left, scowling at her. Her grey eyes studied every feature of the man, his black hair, the hooked nose, and the black eyes.

That's him. The man who saved me, I'm sure of it. He's older now, but so am I.

Now, I have a name to go with the face.

But where is he?

Why does he look so miserable?

Why did he abandon me?

oOo

May 5, 1998~

Hagrid was feeling quite nervous, shifting from one foot to another as he anxiously scanned the crowds disembarking from the Hogwarts Express. The Headmistress had sent him to the station in Hogsmeade to collect a professor from Beauxbatons who'd agreed to teach potions on short notice, filling in for the ailing Professor Slughorn who had suffered a mild heart attack shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Not that it was a problem, picking up someone at the station; he did it on a regular basis, mostly picking up students. But there was so much to rebuild after the defeat of You-know-who. The Battle of Hogwarts had left its namesake in bad shape. He really felt that he should be there helping, not running an errand to Hogsmeade. True, they had the help of the castle, being the sentient building that it was, and there was no problem levitating things, but you couldn't beat good old fashioned muscles. And he had them to spare.

I sure wish Filch would have been given this task, the half-giant thought grumpily. He sighed, knowing full well in his heart that his agitation wasn't due to worrying about rebuilding the castle.

No, Hagrid was uneasy because of the fearsome reputation of the person he was meeting, and having Filch constantly needling him about her for the past couple of days had not helped. Just this morning, the old squib had snickered at him as they passed in the hallway, as Hagrid was on his way to the Headmistress' office to beg one more time to be excused from this particular duty.

"I heard that she hexed the groundskeeper at Beauxbatons." Filch cackled derisively as the half-giant made his way toward the Headmistress' office. "Turned him into a toad after he made her angry. Fancy eating bugs, Hagrid?"

With a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh, Hagrid spoke the password and lumbered up the steps. He pushed open the door and walked into the office, mulling over how he would phrase his latest appeal.

"The answer is still no, Hagrid." Minerva McGonagall said from where she sat behind her desk, not even bothering to look over at him. Lips pursed in concentration, she leaned over several piles of parchments, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she scanned the latest list of new students for the fall term.

"Headmistress," He protested, "Can't you send someone else this time? Maybe Filch? He's looking kind of pale. He could really do with some fresh air, and-"

"Hagrid, as you well know, Filch is needed here, to supervise the house elves with the interior repairs and remodeling." Minerva had replied, handing him a list of building materials that she also wanted him to arrange to have delivered. "After all, he knows the castle better than anyone else. Professor Romanov was very kind to agree to fill in for Professor Slughorn for the remaining two weeks, and to stay over until fall if need be. Now go, and you be on your best behavior. Don't do anything to make her angry."

With a quiet sigh, Hagrid shuffled from the office, defeated.

I'll be sure not to make her angry, he thought. Don't fancy being a toad.

So here he was, shifting nervously from one foot to another, on Platform 9 ¾. Waiting. Hagrid didn't like waiting, especially on the platform where he stood out so badly among the smaller humans milling around. He'd long ago arranged for the building materials to be sent to the school, and purchased some more Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent to replenish his stock-the slugs seemed to be especially bad already this year. He feared that his pumpkins might not do so well this year, if he couldn't get them under control, not to mention the hazard of losing a student or two.

"You must be Hagrid." Said someone from behind him, in strongly accented, but excellent English.

He turned around. She was tall, nearly 5'7", and very slender, almost looking underfed. Steel gray eyes regarded him coolly from over high cheekbones in a delicate pale face, framed by chestnut colored hair that was pulled back into a neat French braid that stretched down her back to her hips. She wore a red dress, a black sash with a silver mounted dagger tucked into it, and-most unusual, given the pleasant weather-long sleeves with black leather gloves. A stylish hat sat atop her head, cocked at a jaunty angle to shade her eyes from the sun. On her left hand perched a huge eagle owl, whose amber eyes regarded Hagrid suspiciously, his sharp talons digging into the gloved hand as he gave a low hoot of unease.

"I am Professor Romanov." She said, walking toward him.

Hagrid wiped his sweating palms on his robes nervously, and bowed, feeling a bit relieved when she smiled and nodded.

"Yes, that'd be me, ma'am. Welcome to Hogsmeade, an' Hogwarts. Now, I can take yer bags an' yer owl-"

"My owl," The woman said quietly, the only indication that she was irritated being a slight thickening of her accent and a flash like steel in her eyes, "stays with me. Ivan does not like being handled by anyone other than myself."

Hagrid paled, involuntarily bowing. This is exactly the kind of thing that the Headmistress had warned him about.

"For Merlin's sake, Hagrid, be diplomatic!" Headmistress McGonagall had said before he left her office. "Don't do or say anything to make her angry!"

Hagrid sighed inwardly, hoping he could smooth things over.

"Of course, ma'am, my sincerest apologies." He said quickly. "It's just that I'm the Gamekeeper, and most all folks that come in prefer that I take their birds to the owlry-"

"Hagrid. I am not 'most folks'. Ivan goes wherever I go."

He swallowed nervously.

"Of course not, Professor. Er…I meant no offense, was what I was trying to say. Now, your bags…"

"Right there." She said.

With one long, elegant finger, she indicated a black leather suitcase on the platform near her. Cautiously, he picked it up and walked to the waiting carriage as the woman followed him, her owl swiveling its head to take in his new surroundings as she walked. Hagrid offered her a hand, and she took it, gracefully jumping up into the carriage and settling herself on the seat.

oOo

Minerva looked up when the knock sounded at her door, and sighed. So much to do, she mused. So much to be done before the Fall term begins.

"Come in." She said, setting her quill down and wearily rubbing her eyes.

Hagrid opened the door and stepped aside to allow Professor Romanov to enter.

"Minerva." She smiled, crossing the room to the Headmistress, sending her owl to perch on the windowsill.

"Ana, how have you been?" Minerva smiled, hugging the younger woman carefully.

"As well as I could be." Ana replied, hugging the older witch. "But never mind that. There is so much damage…I'm so sorry to see the castle like this. It is terrible! So much damage."

"Well, it was worse. We've been very busy rebuilding, and the castle does a great deal of it, of course. Hopefully, we should be able to finish most of the repairs by the time fall term begins."

"Of course…" Ana said, pausing for a moment. "Minerva…"

"Yes?"

"Professor Snape…how long will he be unable to teach?" She asked, her face an unreadable mask.

"I…I'm not certain, Ana." Minerva said softly. "As I told you in my letter, he's in a coma, in the Hospital wing. He…well, his wounds were rather severe. He was bitten by Voldemort's familiar, Nagini, right near the carotid artery, and that could have easily been fatal, even without the venom. It's ironic, but the venom may have helped keep him alive until help could arrive by slowing down his body functions."

"I see." The younger witch said, and then frowned. "So he was able to make it back to the Hospital wing before he collapsed?"

"Oh, no, Poppy said from all appearances, he was brought in and left there." Minerva explained patiently. "She was out on the grounds tending the wounded. When she came in to get more supplies and potions, Severus was on a bed, already bandaged up. Whoever brought him in had the presence of mind to administer a bezoar, as well as blood-replenishment and pain potions."

Ana frowned, her brow creased in thought.

"But…who might have brought him to the Hospital wing?" She asked. "Surely someone noticed them bringing him back to the castle."

"I have no idea, nor does Poppy. It's lucky for Severus that someone did, that's for sure."

"Indeed." Ana said briskly, getting up from her chair and holding out her hand for Ivan to fly to.

"I'll be off now." She said, smiling at the Headmistress. "I still have to unpack, and go prepare to teach on Monday. I'd like to visit Professor Snape, also, if that's allowed."

"Well, I don't think he'll be much company right now."

"That's probably for the best." Ana smiled thinly. "He and I didn't part ways on amicable terms, the last time we spoke."

"Oh?"

"No. But it's nothing to worry about. It's been years ago, really nothing to it. Just a minor disagreement between peers."

Minerva frowned, studying the young woman as she left the office. There was something wrong here, something she just couldn't put her finger on.

oOo

"So, Harry," Ron said as they walked toward the dungeons, "Who's going to finish up teaching Potions? Old Sluggy like to keeled over after the Battle of Hogwarts, too much excitement for the old ticker, I guess. Snape's dead, or close to it-"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Ron!" Hermione snapped crossly, thumping Ron in the head with her Potions book. "He's not dead, he's in a coma. He may yet recover."

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed, rubbing his head. "Merlin, that's a scary thought, Snape rising from the dead like some kind of zombie. Harry, do you reckon Snape will wake up? Rise from the dead?"

Harry shook his head and sighed.

"I have no idea, Ron." He said, leading the way into the Potions classroom. He nodded to some of the students as he made his way to his usual seat. Ron sat down next to him, with Hermione on the other side, rolling her eyes heavenwards in disgust as Ron did an imitation of what he imagined a zombie Snape might act like.

At five minutes till the hour, exactly, the door to the potions classroom burst open with a bang. In a swirl of bright scarlet robes, trimmed in gold silk, a tall woman walked briskly to the front of the classroom. Midway to the podium, she spoke, never breaking stride.

"Pertica." The eagle owl on her shoulder took off, gracefully flying off to perch on a rafter near the back of the classroom.

"Wicked." Ron Weasley breathed, just a bit louder than a whisper, his eyes locked on the owl.

The woman went to the board, and with a subtle gesture of her hand, set a piece of chalk to writing on the board rapidly.

"I am Professor Romanov." She said bluntly, her cool gray eyes studying each face in turn. "You will address me only as 'Professor Romanov', or 'Professor'. I will be filling in for Professor Slughorn for the remainder of the term. As this is Advanced Potions class, I will expect…advanced work. You will be making a simple potion today; Blood-Replenishment potion. I will be judging your work on the finer points, so do not expect this to be an easy assignment. I expect that half of you will fail. You have five minutes to gather your ingredients and begin; after the five minutes are up, you have exactly twenty-eight minutes to produce an acceptable sample of Blood-Replenishment potion. Do you know why you only have twenty-eight minutes? Anyone? Miss Granger?"

Hermione stood up, clearing her throat dramatically and smoothing down her robes.

"The minimum time needed," she said confidently, "is due to the rate at which it is possible to blend the powdered iron with the essence of bloodroot. Alderoy Stimpkins proposed in 1934 that it might be possible to make Blood-Replenishment potion in less than twenty-eight minutes if it were possible to raise the solution temperature by three degrees Fahrenheit, but at that temperature, when the iron is added it may react with the dandelion leaves, causing an unstable solution. Later, in 1935, Berringer postulated that-"

"Thank you, Miss Granger, that will be enough." Ana said, making a mental note to be more careful about calling on Granger in the future. "To give the condensed version, do not allow your solutions to get any hotter than 180º Fahrenheit, for the sake of safety."

For a moment, there was not a sound in the classroom, except for the magicked chalk busily writing out the required ingredients.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Snapped Professor Romanov. "Begin!"

Students, panicked, overturned stools and beakers rushing to get their ingredients. Ana Romanov sighed to herself, praying to the gods for patience.

THESE are seventh-year students? She thought in dismay. Merlin, how did Severus keep his sanity?

Eventually, with little incident, the class drew to its end. While they had a rocky start, Ana was quite impressed with the work of several students; indeed, all of them made a passable potion. She assigned an essay of twenty-four inches worth of parchment, in which she expected only their own thoughts regarding the absorption of the iron oxide in the solution. As the students made their way toward the door, she looked up from her desk, where she was marking the vials for further analysis.

"Mr. Potter?" Ana called out, just as Harry picked up his bag of books to follow Ron and Hermione out. "I need you to stay after, please."

Frowning, Harry put his book bag down with a sigh.

"Close the door, please." She said, after the last student left. "Then come over here."

Harry closed the door, and then walked over to where the new Potions professor sat at Snape's old desk.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" He asked, a bit irritated with being kept after class.

"No." Ana said, looking at the young man intently, studying his face as if she were memorizing it. Harry began to feel rather uncomfortable, wondering if he'd been too defiant.

"Um…Professor…" He said, fearful that he'd overstepped.

"So you're her son." She said softly, her eyes steady on his. "Lily Evans, the woman who married James Potter."

Harry blushed, completely caught off guard.

"Yes, ma'am." He blustered, irritation giving way to anger. "What of it? My mum's a long time dead, and I'd really rather not talk about her, if you don't mind."

Professor Romanov blinked, as if coming out of a trance.

"I understand." She said gently, conjuring a stool beside her desk. "Sit down, please."

Harry reluctantly sat down, his green eyes looking over at the new Potions Mistress.

"I tell you this in confidence, understand?" Ana said, leaning forward in her chair. "Few here know this, but I am also an orphan. I lost my parents to the Dark Lord when I was six years old."

"So you know how I feel?"

"Somewhat." She shrugged. "Our experiences are different, because you were so young when you lost your parents, and I knew mine quite well by the time they were taken from me. Both of us have suffered in our own unique way."

Harry nodded mutely.

She watched him for a long time, studying his face.

"Professor…" Harry said hesitantly, "Did you…did you know my mum and dad?"

"No, Harry." Ana answered truthfully. "I was too young to know them. I never met them."

"I see." He replied, sounding a bit disappointed.

"That will be all, Mr. Potter." She said gently. "We can always talk later, if you wish. I don't want to keep you from your friends. Dismissed."

As the door closed behind him, she leaned back in her chair, idly smoothing the feathers of her quill.

So that's her son. Lily Evans, the woman who chose another, yet kept his love even after she died.

It's so unfair, she thought bitterly.

oOo

It was dark again. They always came at night. The child huddled in a blanket in the ruins of the house, watching the fat snowflakes drift silently to the ground. At least the snow was pretty.

Mummy wasn't breathing any more. She had made that funny rattle noise and just stopped. She had covered her up with a blanket to keep her warm, just like she did with daddy. Or what was left of daddy.

She could hear them. These were at least real wolves, not like the ones that walked on their hind legs like people. She huddled in the basement, under the stairs in the little closet there. She could hear the steps on the stairs, getting closer now, the heavy sniffing around the door. Then, as her eyes grew wide with terror, the doorknob rattled, then slowly began to turn-

Ana sat up in bed with a terrified gasp, sweat making her nightgown stick to her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as she trembled in her bed. Her throat felt raw, as if she had screamed too much. Shuddering, she struggled to catch her breath, clutching the covers tightly to herself.

Ivan swiveled his head, looking at her curiously from his perch near the window, and then turned back to the rat that he was dining on. With shaky hands, she retrieved a bottle of vodka from the icebox and poured a water glass half full, and took a sip. She went to an armchair and sat down with her glass, drawing her legs up under herself as she shivered despite the warmth from her fireplace.

Halloween, 1979. She mused bitterly, wiping tears from her eyes. The night my life turned to shit; the night the Death Eaters took away everything away from me.

She took another sip of vodka, noting with relief that her hands were a bit steadier. Her room faced the East, and through the window she could see the barest traces of dawn. Draining the glass, she placed it on the table beside her chair for the house elves to take care of later, and stood up.

No more sleep for me tonight. She sighed wearily, walking into the bathroom to draw a bath.

Another busy day for me, one more day closer to…what?

oOo

She stood in the infirmary, in a room that was situated well away from prying eyes. It was quiet there; no students, no professors, and no other visitors. For a long time, she just watched him breathe, his chest rising and falling with clocklike regularity.

You probably wouldn't remember me. Ana thought, blinking back a tear. I wouldn't dare hope for anything of the sort.

But I remember you. Oh, how I remember you! It has been eighteen years since you drove away those werewolves and rescued me; then found me a safe place to live. I remember everything. I owe you my life.

You were my hero, then my secret crush…then, the man I hated most in the world. I wanted you dead for what happened to my parents, to the Razins, to all of the children I couldn't save at Beauxbatons whose screams haunt my dreams most every night. For years, I fantasized about putting a wand to your throat and ending your life, of taking revenge on behalf of all of the victims. Had Headmistress McGonagall known this, she would have never even have considered owling me to fill in for Professor Slughorn.

I could kill you right now, with the greatest of ease. I wouldn't even need my wand.

I hated you so much.

I loved you so much.

The two emotions, two sides of the same coin, warring within me even now as I stand here, struggling for control.

You saved me, and then abandoned me. You scorned me, and then seduced me.

It would be so easy, she thought, her right hand falling to lightly grip the handle of the silver dagger in her belt. One thrust with eight inches of finely honed Tula steel, no more Severus Snape. I know exactly where the heart is. I've done it before, felt the heart of a many a Death Eater tear itself apart on this very dagger.

Slowly, her trembling hand released the handle of the dagger, her nerveless fingers falling away from it.

But…I can't do it.

I love you too much, though you don't want me. You wouldn't want me, even now. Especially, not now. Not after…

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts from her mind with a shudder, turning to gaze out the window at the lake in the distance.

I mustn't think about that. Ever.

It took her several minutes to calm herself down to the point that she could even look at him again.

Ana watched him breathe, his chest rising and falling regularly.

I know what you did, Severus. You fooled us all, right up to the final battle. You were a double agent. You lied to everyone, over and over, even to me, even to the Dark Lord. You clung to one thing, to what your purpose was as a double agent, even until death. At great personal risk, you kept up the charade to the last, knowing that you would become one of the most despised wizards in history, vilified by both sides following an ugly war.

All of this just to protect one child, until he was strong enough to defeat Voldemort.

Her child, she thought to herself, with a bitter twinge of jealousy.

You deserve to be hailed as a hero, for you sacrificed everything, and with no hope of a reward…save perhaps death and an end to your suffering.

But fate denied you even that slight mercy.

And now you are reduced to this, an empty husk, half dead in a hospital room. She thought bitterly, quickly wiping away the tears that welled in her eyes. Imprisoned in your own body.

It's so unfair. She thought, wiping at the tears that flowed freely now.

I won't cry. I haven't cried since my first year at Durmstang.

Yes, you have. She rebuked herself harshly. You know very well that you've cried many times since Durmstang, and before.

You cried many, many times.

You cried yourself to sleep many a night alone in your bed, in the orphanage. You were so strong and brave during the day, helping to take care of the other children, yet so weak and pathetic at night when it came to facing your own terrors.

So fierce and competitive you were at Durmstang, driven to excel with a passion that was like a madness. Never letting on that you were weak, lest you be taken advantage of. Cruel and ruthless by day, by night behind the door of your room you wept as you hugged your pillow, homesick for your stepmother and stepfather comforting you when your nightmares became too much to bear.

You wept freely, raging at the fates, when your stepmother suffered her stroke, lingering for six weeks, then slipping away. But only behind your closed door in your bedroom after casting a silencio charm, for your devastated stepfather needed your strength to lean on after he lost the love of his life. So you were strong for him, even though you didn't feel strong enough.

You cried when you found out Severus was a Death Eater, the right hand of the Dark Lord. You slipped out of the bed you had shared with him, when you saw the dark mark on his forearm. Slinking away like a coward, refusing to face the truth.

You prayed to all the gods that you wouldn't have face him in a duel, to kill him.

You wept shamelessly after you awakened in a hospital bed, after you were injured during the Death Eater attack on Beauxbatons. In a blind rage, you destroyed every mirror in your hospital room, smashing them with your fist, tears mixing freely with the blood from your mangled hand. You've avoided mirrors ever since, lest you cry again over what you lost that night at the dormitories.

When you heard the rumors that Severus was dead, killed by that cursed familiar of the Dark Lord, you went to the remains of your family estate, overgrown as it was by the forest. Over the course of several hours, you destroyed tree after tree, blasting them to splinters until the rage was spent and you were lying on the ground, sobbing like a child, exhausted from the amount of magical energy you'd expended in the process of making trees that were hundreds of years old into kindling wood.

Sitting on the floor of your sitting room, you wept in your apartment when you got the owl from Headmistress McGonagall, when you found out that he wasn't really dead, as you'd heard…but in a coma, barely clinging to life. Tears of relief, of joy, of hope.

Hope.

Dare I hope for anything? She wondered. Dare I wish for anything more than what I already have?

She shook her head, sighing in dismay.

Both of us are lucky to even be breathing today, with what we've gone through. Against all odds, we have survived, mostly intact.

She looked at the tall man, lying so still in the bed, the only sign of life being the regular rise and fall of his chest. Bandages on both hands, most of his left arm, and his neck.

This isn't fair, she thought bitterly. You deserve so much better than this.

Her eyes watered to the point where she could barely see. She reached into her pocket for her hanky.

"Excuse me, ma'am…this area of the Hospital wing is off limits-"

Ana turned to see the Medi-witch standing in the doorway, frowning at her. Recovering quickly, she turned away while she wiped her tears away, quickly applying a wandless glamour to hide the puffiness around her eyes. Then she drew herself up to her full height, turning back to the Medi-witch.

"I am Professor Romanov." She said crisply, "I will be teaching Potions classes until either Professor Snape or Professor Slughorn recovers."

"Oh! Well, I…I'm Poppy. Mediwitch Poppy Pomphrey, but everyone just calls me Poppy." Poppy said, taken by surprise. "I don't know what you expected to find, Professor Romanov. He's…still unresponsive."

"I can see that." Ana pointed out bluntly. "I only wished to see him; I promise you I will not disturb him. After all, I am a Potions Mistress, and there might be something I can do to help with his recovery. Examining the patient is critical to formulate a potion to treat an aliment."

"Oh…of course, Professor Romanov." Poppy said, composing herself. "You're welcome to come visit him anytime, so long as we aren't bathing him, of course. I…read to him, potions journals, The Daily Prophet, things like that. I read in a Muggle medical journal recently-"

"-that reading to coma patients may be beneficial for them. I've read the same article, I think."

"Yes, well…" Poppy said, "If you'll excuse me, I must get back to work. Feel free to stay as long as you like, Professor."

"Thank you…Poppy." She smiled, watching the older woman leave. Listening to her footsteps fade as she moved down the hallway. Finally, only when she was sure that she was alone with Severus, she moved close to the bed where he lay, leaning over him.

"Вернись ко мне в ближайшее время." Ana whispered softly, as she leaned down to his ear, and then gently kissed his pale cheek. "We have so much to talk about, darling."

As she made her way out of the Hospital Wing, she paused at the doorway of Poppy's office. The Medi-witch was marking some charts, so Ana politely knocked on the door frame to get her attention.

"Since tomorrow is Saturday, and my preparations for next week are nearly finished, I thought I might read to him. That might be helpful to you also, yes?" She said. "Is eight o' clock too early?"

"No, eight is fine, Professor." Poppy said cheerfully. "You might bring some of his books from his study; I keep meaning to get some, but I stay so busy up here…"

"I understand. I have better access to his study, since I am teaching his classes…perhaps there is something that he was reading before…"

Ana paused a moment, a long forgotten memory coming to the surface of her consciousness, momentarily distracting her.

I'd forgotten about the bookmark, she thought uneasily. I wonder…

"Professor? Are you alright?"

"Oh…excuse me. I was just..." Ana said quickly, blushing at her lapse. "I was just thinking that perhaps he had a book on his desk in his study, something that he was reading and failed to finish. I'll look in his quarters this afternoon after classes."

"Oh." Poppy said, and then nodded. "That certainly might help. Sort of picking up where he may have left off reading."

"Well, I will see you tomorrow, then." Ana said, and then left.

oOo

The next morning, at five minutes till eight, Ana walked into the hospital wing, a tote bag loaded with several books and periodicals slung on her shoulder. Seeing no sign of Poppy, she went to Severus' room and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Called Poppy from inside.

Pushing the door open, Ana went in, nodding to the Medi-Witch.

"Good morning, Poppy." She said as she approached the bed.

"Good morning, Professor." Poppy smiled, smoothing the blanket covering Severus. She had him bathed, dressed in a clean gown, and propped up a bit in the bed on a few pillows.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Ana said. "I looked over his desk and his bedside table, and picked up a few books, as well as brought along any periodicals that came in his post."

Ana set the tote bag on the bedside table with a clunk and a sigh, rubbing her aching shoulder with her right hand. Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she took hold of the potion vial there, then, thinking better of it, left the vial where it was.

Better to save it for later, if the pain gets worse, she sighed inwardly. Best to keep trying to build up my tolerance to it, so it will remain effective.

"So, have you known Severus a long time?" Asked the older woman, picking up one of the books to look at it.

"Um…yes…and no."

Poppy's eyebrows went up, and she looked at Ana with curiosity.

"Well, I'm sure there's a story there." She said, closing the book and setting it down with the others.

Ana was silent, her eyes narrowing a bit in warning. Poppy carefully put the book back.

"Um, I suppose it will wait." Poppy said nervously, moving toward the door. "I brought in a chair for you, and of course all you have to do is call for a house elf if you need anything."

"Thank you."

Poppy walked out, closing the door behind her.

Ana sat down in the chair between the window and the bed with a sigh, then looked at him. For a very long time, she simply sat in the chair next to the bed with one of the books from his study in her lap, just watching him breathe.

Finally, she let out a long sigh, rubbing her eyes.

"I suppose you wonder where I've been all these years." She began, speaking softly. "After the last time I saw you, I thought it best that we not see each other again. I…. I tried to stay away. I really did, Severus…though it was difficult at times."

"In September of 1996, when you came to Beauxbatons to teach the seminar on how to blend beetle eyes with essence of dragon bile safely…oh, how I wanted to attend! But I took a leave of absence for the week, and went to Salzburg instead."

And three weeks later, she thought with a shudder, I was fighting for my life in the hospital. How our fortunes can change in an instant.

Mustn't think about that.

Closing her eyes, she struggled to calm herself down, using occlumency to force the memories back into her subconscious. After a long moment, she finally opened her eyes. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, she finally was able to continue.

"I wouldn't be here now…" Ana said, "except for Headmistress McGonagall owling me, asking me to take over the potions classes…while…you…"

She quickly retrieved her hanky, dabbing at her eyes, fighting to keep her composure.

I will not cry, she scolded herself, screwing her eyes shut again, willing the tears away.

I must not cry.

Don't cry.

It was several more minutes before she could calm herself down, holding the hanky to her eyes as if she could stopper up the tear ducts that threatened to betray her.

"I…I just don't understand this, any of it." Ana continued, her hands twisting her hanky into a tight little rope. "None of it makes any sense at all. Why did you do this? Did you want to die? Could you find nothing, no reason to live?"

Was she so much more important than me? She caught herself thinking, and then quickly drove the thoughts from her mind. No thinking about that. That is the path to madness. You know you can't compete with her.

You never could.

She sat there for a long moment, just listening to him breathe.

Ana let out a sigh of frustration, rubbing her temples, then picked up a magazine.

"I'm going to read to you now. We'll start with the latest issue of Potions Monthly, then go on to the book that you had on your nightstand in your bedroom, Medicinal Herbs of Inner Mongolia. It does look interesting; I leafed through it for a few pages."

She fingered the bookmark in the book thoughtfully.

"I see that you are still using the bookmark I gave you for Christmas in 1994, the one that I made for you…with the dried rose petals. I…"

She swiped at her eyes with the hanky, dabbing futilely at the tears that seemed to flow freely now, streaming down her cheeks. She gave in, allowing herself to cry, glad that she'd warded the door and cast a silenceo charm after the nosy Medi-witch had left. After some twenty minutes or so, she finally felt able to go on.

"That…" She whispered, her voice wavering just a bit, "that is how I knew what you were reading now. You…you still are using it…after all these years. You…"

Holding her hanky tightly to her eyes, she gave in, sobbing brokenly. It was several minutes before she was able to fully regain her composure. When she was finally able to put away her hanky, she looked over at him again.

"If you are angry that I am here when you awaken, this will still be worth it." Ana said, "You frighten your students, but I've never been afraid of you. I will read to you, and I will talk to you, and one day, you will wake up."

And what then? She thought uneasily, putting away her hanky. What happens then?

I haven't the slightest idea.

Opening the latest issue of Potions Monthly, she then began to read aloud.

oOo

Monday was, by anyone's standards, not a good day. By lunchtime, Professor Romanov had given out twelve detentions with Filch, three that she would personally supervise, and had taken nearly 200 points from all four houses. Now, she sat at the staff table glowering at the students over a cup of strong coffee as the braver ones sneaked wary glances at the terrifying new Potions Professor.

"Hello, Professor," The Headmistress said, sitting down next to her. "I hear you've had your hands full today."

"Indeed. Such lack of discipline!" Ana growled. "These…hooligans think that I am going to let them get away with anything! The nerve some of these children have! And just who are these Weasleys, the ones who make these…wait, I have some right here that I confiscated…"

Digging in the pocket of her robes, she pulled out a box.

"Weasley's Wizardings Wheezes Wildfire Whiz-Bangs," She read from the box, tossing onto the table in disgust. "An utterly dangerous item for students to have in their possession! What…moron came up with these? In my third period class today, Mr. Randall set the drapes in my classroom on fire!"

Minerva struggled to hide a smirk, choosing to remain silent. Ana looked at her suspiciously, and then over at the Gryffindor table, then back at the Headmistress.

"Ronald Weasley is behind this, is he not?"

"Oh, no, Ana." Minerva chuckled. "Those fireworks were made by his brothers, George and...his late brother Fred. They had a business in Hogsmeade, which George still operates."

"And you still allow him to be in this school?" Snapped Ana. "These are dangerous! I'd better keep a close eye on him."

"He's not nearly the problem his brothers were," Minerva replied, still smiling. "In fact, most of the Weasleys are no problem, never were. For example, Ginerva Weasley there, the boys' sister, she's never been in trouble. A model student."

"If you say so."

"Ana, I actually wanted to discuss something else with you." The Headmistress said, "I'm somewhat concerned about you."

"Me? What are you talking about?" Ana replied warily.

"Yes, you." Minerva said dryly. "You haven't been here for a whole week, and you look nearly exhausted."

"I'm fine. Just…the move, the new students, and…well, I haven't been sleeping well lately. That's all. It will pass, I assure you."

"I've heard that you've been spending a lot of time reading." Minerva said quietly, carefully watching her. "Up in the hospital wing."

Дерьмо, Ana thought, her heart sinking. She knows.

"I certainly don't mind if you help Poppy and the hospital staff by reading to Severus," She said, eyeing Ana speculatively, "But don't allow it to interfere with your rest, or with your teaching. The most important thing is that you don't work yourself to death doing too much, dear."

"I take it that you already know." The younger witch sighed in resignation.

"About your collapse last fall, during class?" Minerva said, leaning toward her. "Madame Maxime told me all about it, before I owled you about filling in for the rest of the term. She was quite concerned about your health-"

"I'm fine." Ana snapped, secretly pleased that this had nothing to do with Severus.

"I was just tired…and my iron in my blood, it was low…" She said nonchalantly. "Truly, it was nothing. More of a nuisance than anything, really. I feel fine."

"Then there was the war." Minerva said, calling to a house elf for tea.

"I'd really rather not discuss that." Ana snapped, blushing deeply and rising from her chair. Minerva gently caught her sleeve, preventing her escape.

"As Headmistress, I really must insist." The Headmistress said.

Ana sighed, sitting back down and taking a sip of her coffee. Stalling for time, she glanced at the clock.

"I'm well aware that your preparatory period is right after lunch, Professor." Minerva said dryly, her eyes locked to Ana's. "We have plenty of time to talk before your next class. You were badly injured yourself, were you not?"

"Yes." Ana said quietly, admitting defeat. "I assure you, it will not affect my ability to do my job, Headmistress."

"It won't?" Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"No, it will not." Ana replied firmly. "I am not a cripple."

"I'm not concerned about your arm," Minerva said gently. "I'm more worried about-"

"I'm fine." Ana snapped, her eyes flashing defiantly. "When there is evidence that I cannot effectively perform my duties, we can discuss it then. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

With that, she stood up and walked away. Ivan flew from his perch to light on her shoulder as she went through the doorway to the hall. Ana tried to ignore the unsteadiness in her legs, forcing herself to project a confidence that she wasn't feeling at the moment. Checking her left sleeve self-consciously, she headed to the dungeons, hoping to regain her composure before facing her next class.

ooOoo

Author's notes:

"Ваши родители никогда у вас с ними бок о вдоль привидение? Куда-то, что он чувствовал, что вы были вытесняют?" – Did your parents ever take you with them in side-along apparition? Going somewhere that it felt like you were being squeezed?

"Я собираюсь аппарировать с вами, принять вас в надежном месте. Будет ли это хорошо?"- I'm going to apparate with you, take you somewhere safe. Will that be alright?

"Вернись ко мне в ближайшее время." Translates as "come back to me soon."

"дерьмо" is "shit."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

~Chapter 2~

December 19, 1994~

"Professor Snape?"

He turned, frowning. He'd come out to the gardens to escape the crowded ballroom at Beaxbatons following his brief lecture as a guest at the Potions Society Convention. Dumbledore had insisted on his attending, and then he'd been furious to find out that the old cad had signed him up to do a talk on wolfsbane and the potion he'd developed for Lupin.

And now, it would seem, here was yet another empty-headed twit of a groupie.

"Yes?" He sneered, hoping to scare the girl off.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Said the young woman, coming closer.

Just a bit taller than average, short auburn hair, steel-gray eyes that were steady on his. He struggled to place her in his memory, to remember where he might have seen her before.

Hellfire! He fumed. Just another student, no doubt entranced by the lecture I just gave and desperate to impress me with what she thinks she knows about potion making. Graduate student's robes for Beauxbatons, I can tell that from the scarlet and gold. Excellent English, well-polished, but just a trace of an accent…not French, not German…more likely East of Germany…Russian or Ukrainian, perhaps…

"Professor?" The student said hesitantly, her gray eyes dark with concern.

Where do I know those eyes from? Severus thought, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He felt a headache coming on; what he wanted most was a headache potion and firewhiskey, preferably both. Not tedious conversation with some glassy-eyed admirer. With a sigh, he glared down at the young woman.

"I have no idea who you are, or where we have met." He snarled nastily. "Now just go away. Go clubbing or whatever it is you vapid little twits do when you're putting off your studies."

He felt a bit guilty when he saw her flinch at the barb, her cheeks reddening as she averted her eyes. Between the strain of playing the part of double agent, teaching classes, and now this insufferable lecture series that Dumbledore had talked him into, he felt as if he would snap at any moment.

For a moment, her mouth worked silently, tears brimming up in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Nicely done, Severus! He thought sourly, putting a hand in the pocket of his robes to find his hanky. You've made her cry, you mean old bat. Twenty points to Slytherin.

But the next thing he knew, she had composed herself, a mask falling over her face, the tears vanishing. For a moment, she pursed her lips, reminding him much of Minerva McGonagall when she was in one of her thoughtful moods.

"It's no big deal, just that I owe you my life, sir." The girl said, then turned and walked away.

She stopped; hesitating for a moment, then walked back to him, took his hand and pressed something into it. Her hands were warm on his.

"This is something that I made for you, several years ago." The young woman said softly. "Keep it, throw it away, I don't care. I know you don't remember me."

He stood there stunned, watching her walk away, and then she stopped again. She didn't look at him, didn't turn around, and made no move to walk back to where he was. Uneasily, he allowed his wand to slide down to his hand from its concealed sheath in the sleeve of his robes.

"I know what you are." She said, the words drifting back to send a chill of dread through him. Then she simply walked away, leaving him frozen where he stood. He watched her until she was well out of sight, her footsteps fading away as she went back to the ballroom.

After a long moment, he numbly looked down at his hand, opening it.

A simple bookmark that a child might have made; two sheets of plastic laminated around dried rose petals.

ooOoo

May 10, 1998~

Ana stared sullenly out the window, sipping some tea. Honey, with a bit of lemon juice, as Poppy had prescribed for her, assuring her that it would help her voice. She pursed her lips, annoyed. She'd been forbidden to read to Severus, at least for now, though Poppy still allowed her to sit with him.

At least I can read to myself, she sighed. Otherwise, I'd be bored out of my mind. But then, he never was much for conversation anyway.

A knock at the door drew her attention, leading her to close her book and look up. The Headmistress came in, walking over to her chair next to Severus' bed.

"Come by to make sure I was behaving?" Ana whispered hoarsely, her voice scratchy and painful, despite the tea and healing potions.

"Oh, I wasn't that worried." Minerva said, smiling as she conjured a chair to sit on. "It sounds as if your body is doing a fine job of making sure you follow healer's orders. I actually came by to see how Severus was doing. Any change?"

Ana shrugged, gesturing toward him.

"The same." She whispered glumly. "No change."

Minerva sat quietly, just watching her. After only a few minutes, Ana began to chafe under the gaze of the Headmistress.

"Is there something you needed?" She said, struggling to get the words out.

"No, nothing really." Minerva said, rising and vanishing her chair. "Will you be able to teach on Monday? If you don't use your voice all weekend?"

Ana chose to just nod her head, sighing in frustration.

"Don't worry, there's only about a week left in the term. Then, you'll have all summer to read to him, won't you."

Ana glared at Minerva, and then nodded again.

"Well, I'll leave you alone with him." Said the Headmistress, then left.

oOo

Monday arrived, and while her voice wasn't much better, she taught anyway. She just elected not to talk much, using her magicked chalk to write assignments on the board, and her frosty glare to discourage talking in her classrooms. It was, after all, the last week of classes.

"Write a three foot essay on possible interactions of Murtlap essence, to be turned in at the end of class. Revise and review on your own. Final exam is Wednesday at 2 p.m." The chalk scratched out on the board, as she fed Ivan a mouse, cooing to him gently and stroking his magnificent plumage.

"Bloody 'ell." Ron Weasley whispered to Harry, "I'd almost prefer Snape to this ice queen. She's a right bitch-OUCH!"

His red hair on one side was covered with chalk dust, a souvenir of a deftly thrown piece of chalk. Another piece of chalk appeared in her hand, then leapt to the board to begin writing rapidly.

See me after class: (1) Ronald Weasley. Twenty points from Gryffindor. The chalk kept writing, adding additional spots for more detentions and deductions of points, making the threat clear: Professor Romanov would be quite generous with punishment today. She silently pointed at her own eyes, then at Ron, emphasizing that she was not to be trifled with today.

Ron dropped his head to the table with a low groan. Harry glanced at him, and then bent over his essay, scribbling furiously. Hermione shot him an unsympathetic glare, and then turned back to her essay. In her opinion, Ron should be spending his energies on finishing his.

"Time is up." Professor Romanov announced quietly at the end of the class period, her voice still hoarse.

With a collective groan, the students turned in their parchments. Ron worked on his until nearly all were turned in, then rushed up to put it on the podium before gathering his things and slipping into the flow of students headed toward the door.

A door which slammed shut, the locks clicking into their mortises, before the first student reached it. Hermione gave Ron a glare.

"You have to stay after, Ron. Your name's on the board." She huffed. "Nobody can leave until you go back to your seat."

With a sigh, Ron walked to a seat near the front of the room and sat down with a dejected sigh. The door opened, and the other students, along with his two friends, filed out.

"'Ice Queen', Mr. Weasley?" Rasped Professor Romanov, walking over to the desk he sat at to loom over him. "'Bitch'? Do you make it a normal habit to personally insult your professors? Perhaps I should owl your mother."

Ron swallowed uneasily, shifting in his seat, his eyes widening as he contemplated how his mum would react to an owl from a professor.

"I…I'm very sorry, Professor." He said quickly, "It won't happen again, I swear-"

"200 lines. 'I will not talk in class.'" She whispered, cursing inwardly as her voice slipped closer to completely failing her. "Your best penmanship. Begin."

ooOoo

She was in the bell tower at Beauxbatons, her heart hammering in her chest as she scrambled up the stairs. Green fire flashed outside the windows, jets of deadly spells cast by Death Eaters. Suddenly, the whole top of the bell tower blew away in an explosion of centuries-old stone and mortar, obscuring the stairs completely as shards of stone whistled past her. She was knocked off her feet, pain shooting through her knees.

Coughing, she got up, checked to make sure her wand was still in her hand, and blindly picked her way through the rubble, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her robe to keep from breathing in the fine dust. Someone was screaming in the distance; abruptly the screams ceased. She nearly slipped in a pool of congealing blood near a battered corpse in Death Eater robes; the body so mutilated it was impossible to tell whether it was male or female.

"Help me!" Someone just ahead shouted, obscured by the choking dust. She knelt on the stone, cautiously moving forward on hands and knees, cutting her palms on the sharp stone fragments as she felt blindly for the source of the voice.

"Where are you?" She cried, coughing.

"Down here! Hurry!" A wizard, a familiar male voice…

Feeling her way blindly along the floor, she finally found a hand clinging to the stone and grasped it, the man gripping her hand tightly. The dust cleared enough that she could see the man clinging to her left arm, her right hand tucking her wand away and gripping the base of what had been a pillar supporting the bell tower cupola.

Her left arm felt wrong. It was as if she had no strength in her grasp. She could feel the man's hand slowly sliding through her grasp, bit by bit, as she bit her lip, struggling to hold onto him.

As he slipped from her grasp his face turned upward to her, an agonized expression there.

It was Severus, falling in slow motion toward the ground 100 meters below-

With a terrified gasp she jerked awake, gasping for breath, clutching the bedclothes to her chest in fright. Trembling uncontrollably, she glanced around her bedroom, struggling to calm her racing heart, breathing heavily. The bed was a mess, the sheets pulled free from the foot, the duvet on the floor, and the pillows nowhere to be seen.

Ivan hooted at her reproachfully from his perch, miffed at her for disturbing him.

That dream again. She shuddered, sliding from the bed and conjuring a water glass. She reached for the icebox door, and hesitated. I have to teach tomorrow. No vodka tonight.

She filled the glass with water from her wand instead, and drank deeply, shivering in the chilly room. Moving another log onto the dying coals, she used her wand to stoke the fire until it was blazing merrily in the stone fireplace.

Checking her alarm clock, she saw that it was still some three hours before she needed to get up, at the earliest. With a groan, she flopped back on the bed.

I should have known this was going to happen. I should have brewed some Dreamless Sleep potion. Just a few drops, not even a full dose…perhaps I can get some from Poppy tomorrow, just enough to make it to the end of the term…

Three more days. She sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes. Three more days, and the school year is over, the children will be gone.

That gives me all day to devote to reading to him, to talking to him.

Will Severus be awake by then? Will I still be here for fall?

Will he ever awaken? She thought, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks.

What would I say to him if he did?

What could I say, after the way I treated him?

So many questions, so few answers…and I'm running out of time.

oOo

After tossing and turning fitfully for an hour, she managed to sleep perhaps another half hour, at most. With a sigh of resignation, she bathed and dressed, figuring that she could wander down to the library to do research, or look for fairy rings in the gardens, or whatever there was she could do for the hour or so she'd have to wait for breakfast. Then she'd have to struggle with not falling asleep in her coffee.

One foot in front of the other, she reminded herself when she stumbled. Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this. Can't be any worse than finals week at Durmstang. But then, nothing could be that bad.

"Good mornin', Professer Romanov. Up mighty early, aren't you? That's the way a professor oughta be, by cracky."

She turned, looking at the man behind her in the hallway with bleary eyes. A tall man, stooped with age, with long, stringy hair, with a large cat cradled in his arms.

"Ah…good morning." She said softly, her voice still scratchy. "Mr. Filtch, is it not?"

"Aye, Professer." He rasped, stroking his cat, Mrs. Norris. "Checking for students out of bed? Haven't caught any myself, not one tonight."

"I…I could not sleep." Ana admitted, already feeling weary with the conversation.

"Pity, that." Filch said, genuine sympathy in his voice. "I often have that problem meself. What with my arthritis and my bad knees, and all, it's a wonder I get any sleep at all. A real shame that Professer Snape is laid up in hospital, it is. He could probably brew ye somthin' that would help you out. I know he sure knows a lot-"

"Mr. Filch." She said, "How long have you known Professor Snape?"

"Many years, Professer. A very long time. I knew him from a wee lad, just come to Hogwarts."

"If you aren't busy, come with me." Ana said, fully awake now, her mind hatching a plan. "I might be able to find you something to help with your aches and pains, if you can answer some questions for me. I just need to figure out what Sev-Professor Snape was brewing for you."

"That would be wonderful, Professer." Filch said, following her down the hallway.

oOo

"That's all. After I answered her questions, she gave me the same potions that Professer Snape allus gave me, and this salve for my knees an' hips, that's new to me. Already put some on, an' by golly it sure does the trick-"

"Thank you, Argus." Minerva said, not really wanting to hear all the gory details.

"She's very kind, she is," Filch went on, "I asked a few questions of my own, I did."

He gave the Headmistress a sly glance.

"Do tell." She said.

Filch smiled, rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Well, she called him by his given name, two or three times. Tried to cover it up, quick like. Headmistress, there's a lot more to this than we know, I wager."

"Oh, nonsense, Argus." Minerva said, signaling for a house elf to bring coffee and a light breakfast. "They are faculty members, working together. It's certainly not unheard of for staff to call each other by their given names, rather than by title and family name. You're imagining things."

"Not with her, Headmistress. When I came across her in the hall this mornin', she was looking like a half drowned cat, jus' wandering the halls half asleep. When I mentioned Professer Snape, she perked right up."

Minerva frowned.

"An' there's more to it," Filch continued, leaning forward in his chair. "She started in to askin' questions, fishin' for information on Snape. Very sly, that she is. She's a clever one."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing much, nothin' that any member of the staff wouldn't know." Filch grinned. "I like to keep on Snape's good side, so I would never talk about things that are personal, lest he hex me good. She got a bit cross with me, in fact."

"What kind of questions was she asking?"

"Personal stuff, Headmistress. Things such as, 'was he seeing anyone, that you know of', and the like. She's interested in him, I wager. She sounded like a love-struck first-year, to me."

"I see." Minerva said, sipping her coffee. "Very interesting. Keep me posted, Mr. Filch."

"Will do, Headmistress." Filch replied, collected Mrs. Norris and left, humming to himself.

oOo

Final exams had begun, and Ana was thankful for that. It meant silence and some sense of order in her classroom, for the most part. Even the 'Golden Trio' (What a ridiculous name! she thought to herself) were quiet and intent on taking their exam, quills quietly scratching away on their parchments. She spent most of her time sipping coffee to keep her eyes open or stalking quietly as a panther through the Potions classroom, watching for any signs of unacceptable behavior. The only detention she'd given so far today was to Goyle, who had the nerve to throw a spit-wad at her when she had her back turned to the class. She'd caught it easily with her left hand, warned by Ivan, who missed nothing.

"Detention, Mr. Goyle." Ana said coldly, fixing him with icy eyes. "Three nights, with Filch, with fifty points taken from Slytherin."

The students gaped at her, some even looking at Goyle with sympathy.

"Need I remind the rest of you that this is your final Exam in Advanced Potions?" She hissed, grey eyes cold as ice. "I am quite willing to dispense more detentions, if necessary."

Quills began frantically scratching away.

Satisfied that order had been restored, she waved her wand at her cup, refilling it with coffee and renewing the warming charm on the cup. Frowning, she then turned her mind back to her conversation with Filch this morning.

Or rather, the non-conversation, she thought irritably. Such an unpleasant man. All of my finest tact and subtlety, and not enough information on Severus to fill a thimble. He only told me things that I already knew. Useless.

She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee, casting a wary glance around the room.

What will I do when he wakes up? Ana thought miserably, keeping her face a mask, occluding her thoughts completely. Mentally she ticked off her fears, one by one.

He'll be angry that I'm even here, no doubt about that.

He'll be furious that Minerva asked me to teach his classes in his absence.

What if he decides not to stay?

Does he even hear me when I read to him? What if it's driving him away, deeper into the coma?

We know so little about such things. Am I really doing any good?

He's an extremely proficient occlumens. What if…what if he picks up my thoughts of him?

She blushed red as a beet, quickly turning away from the students as her composure wavered, pretending to be looking for something on the bookshelf behind her.

Does he…hear me when I talk to him? She wondered, dropping a book in her nervousness. Oh gods…did he know that I…

"Professor Romanov?"

She turned around, the mask snapping back into place, the Occlumency shields back up. Miss Granger sat looking at her curiously.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" She snapped irritably. "What is it now?"

"Um…I'm finished with my exam. I…are you alright, Professor?" Granger said, her voice sincere in her concern. "You were mumbling-"

In response, the chalk leapt to the board and scratched, "(2) Hermione Granger. 20 points from Gryffindor."

"Professor, that is completely unfair! I-"

In a flash, the eraser swiped away the '20' and the chalk wrote, "40"

Hermoine started to say something else, but the cold eyes of Professor Romanov stopped her.

"Shall we make it sixty, Miss Granger?"

"No, Professor." Hermione sighed petulantly, scowling when she caught Malfoy smirking at her.

oOo

"That's the last one, Professor." Hermione sighed wearily, putting up the freshly scoured cauldron. Her arms were aching something fierce. Thirty cauldrons, scoured to a mirror shine inside and out, without magic. "Anything else you want me to do for my detention?"

"No, Miss Granger." Professor Romanov said, toying with her quill as she studied a paper she was grading. "That will be all…"

"Well, I'm already ahead on my revising, so I guess I'll go study some more-"

"One moment, Miss Granger," Ana said, looking up at her. "I am curious about your opinion on something related to one of my…side projects."

"Sure, Professor."

For a moment, Professor Romanov just sat there, idly tapping a black-gloved finger on her desk, as if deep in thought. Hermione braced herself, mentally going over every potion they had covered in the Advanced Potions class following the end of the war, eager to please. A chance to win back some points, she hoped.

"What is your opinion of Professor Snape?"Ana finally said, her cool gray eyes locked to Hermione's.

It was several minutes until Hermione could even think of a response, standing there before the Potions professor with her mouth agape. She felt as if her brain were stuffed with cotton.

"I…I…um-"

"Rest assured," Ana said quietly, trying to conserve what little voice she had left, "I am curious about how his students feel about him. You seem very observant, so I decided to ask your opinion."

Hermione felt completely flustered, for one of the few times in her life, but regained her mental balance quickly.

"I'll answer your question," she said, biting her lip, "if you'll answer one of mine first."

Ana struggled to conceal a smirk of admiration, leaning back in her chair.

I could really come to like this girl, she thought smugly. She is very much a lion, a Gryffindor lion.

"Alright." Ana said, "I agree. What is your question?"

"I've never seen you in anything other than long sleeves, and you always wear gloves. Why?"

Suddenly, Ana found herself on the defensive, panic rising in her abruptly, her cheeks flushing scarlet. Before she could stop herself, she had stood up, taking Hermione by her school tie and backing her up against the wall. Hermione was gasping for breath, her eyes bulging in terror when Ana finally came to her senses, releasing her. Hermione slid to the floor, her fingers struggling to loosen her tie as she gulped in air, trembling in fear. Ana stood over her student, shaking in rage as she fought to calm herself down.

I shouldn't have done that. Ana reproached herself. I…my temper…I must not lose control like that, not with a student.

"I…" Ana said softly, "I am sorry for that…I agreed to your terms. I…must answer your question. It is only fair. I'm sorry for what I did."

She offered her hand to Hermione, who hesitantly took it, allowing Ana to help her up.

"What I tell you must never leave this room." Ana said, warily eyeing her student.

"Agreed." Hermione nodded, straightening her clothes, still a bit nervous.

"I was injured during the war." Ana began, tugging her left sleeve back into place, a minor adjustment. "I…Some students at Beauxbatons were trapped in a dormitory by Death Eaters…they set the dormitory on fire. With Fiendfyre. I tried to save them, but…"

"So…you were burned?"

"Yes." Ana replied softly. "Rather…badly. It took me nearly eight months to…recover."

No need for a student to know everything, Ana thought to herself.

"So…that's why I wear the long sleeves and gloves. To cover up…my scars."

"I see…" Hermione said thoughtfully. "I'm sorry that I asked, Professor. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's alright. You are curious by nature. I am sorry I got angry with you." Ana said sincerely. "I…well, as you can see, it's still quite difficult for me to talk about. When it happened…well, I thought my career was over with. It took a long time for me to go back to the classroom, to face students again."

"Professor, I understand. What did you want to know about Professor Snape?"

"Well, I've been reading to him in the afternoons. According to Poppy, that can stimulate a comatose patient; perhaps help them to…wake up."

"That's why you lost your voice, right?"

"Yes." Ana admitted, sitting back down at her desk. "I suppose I overdid it. But that's beside the point. What do you think of Snape?"

"Well, he's always been an irritable git, impossible to please." Hermione said, ticking off her points on her fingers. "A terror in the classroom, demanding perfection, a strict disciplinarian. Even most of his house are afraid of him, I think."

Ana smiled at her description.

"Sounds like him." She admitted frankly, smiling.

"Absolutely brilliant as a Potions teacher." Hermione went on. "He's not my favorite teacher, but I have to admit he is one of the best instructors here. He knows just about everything, about every subject. Yet he's very modest about it."

"I see."

"I have to say this, too. He deserves far more credit than he got for what he did in the war. If it wouldn't have been for him, and what he did, many of us wouldn't have survived. The Dark Lord might have won, even. He's a hero."

"Yes," Ana said quietly. "I agree. Miss Granger, that will be all. Fifty points to Gryffindor, and my heartfelt apologies for my losing my temper."

When the door closed behind the bushy haired student, Ana went back to grading essays, and tried not to think about Severus.

I will be more professional. She sighed to herself. I will not let myself give in to obsession.

Ivan softly hooted, swiveling his head to look at her over his shoulder, his amber eyes mocking her.

She picked up a bit of cloth and carefully wiped the ink off her quill, slow, careful movements that were somehow soothing to her raw nerves.

The last time I saw him, in Brussels at the Potions Society Convention last year; we made eye contact, but didn't even speak to each other. He simply turned and walked the other way. I could have followed him, made him talk to me, but I didn't.

I should have, she thought with a twinge of guilt.

He looked terrible, so tired and careworn. Knowing what I know now, I would give anything to have that moment back, to have another chance.

A perfect opportunity to talk, yet neither of us were willing to cover even a short distance to have a conversation. He was only a few feet away from me, but he may as well have been on another continent.

What will I do when he wakes up?

She laid her quill down with a heavy sigh, leaning over the papers on her desk.

If he wakes up, she chided herself, a single tear rolling down her cheek to fall with a quiet splat on the parchment before her.

IF he wakes up.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

~Chapter 3~

July 20, 1998~

"Mincing the valerian root with the silver knife tends to introduce cross-contamination into the delicate alkyd compounds so essential…"

Ana shook her head in disbelief, giving an impolite snort of disgust.

"Can you believe the nerve of this Slyzanany fellow! Incredible!" She said to Severus, her voice dripping with contempt. "Everyone knows that Markham proved that old wives' tale incorrect in 1929!"

Glancing over at him again, she sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes.

"Well, everyone except Slyznany, I suppose. What can you expect from a third-class hack like him? They probably published his article just to let him make a fool of himself. I'm going to mark this; I think I may have to send them an owl about this moron and his theories."

His chest moved, up and down, breathing at the normal twelve to fourteen breaths a minute. She'd counted them herself, timing them with her grandfather's old Muggle pocket watch. Only two weeks ago, Poppy had approved of her reading to him again, pronouncing her voice healed. But she had sternly warned Ana to take frequent breaks, and drink plenty of fluids, and above all, get more rest. And eat more. Always, Poppy insisting that she eat more, like some nosy bashbuka.

Ana sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes again. So much scrutiny, she could hardly bear it. She'd told Poppy she wasn't that hungry lately, and what if she was a bit thin? Years of dance training and gymnastics, as well as the fencing and horseback riding at Durmstang, had pared most nonessential weight from her body. She was strong and limber, still very much the athlete she had been as a student. What were a few kilos lost, to her, while he lay there, wasting away completely?

But there was no change in his condition, no improvement. Ana had long ago given up on her resolution to not cry, at least when she was alone with Severus. She habitually cast a silencing charm, supposedly to make sure not to disturb the other patients with her reading to him. It was a wise decision. One evening, late in the evening two weeks ago, she had finally lost control.

She shuddered at the memory.

ooOoo

"…gossander root, when dried and pulverized to a fine powder the consistency of ash, has the following properties in an elixir of tansy leaves and distilled water-"

Abruptly, she found herself on her feet, shaking with rage.

"Damn you, wake up, Severus! Wake up!" Ana shrieked at him, the July issue of Potions Monthly forgotten on the floor. She leapt up on the bed to straddle his chest, taking a double handful of the front of his hospital gown, pulling him just off the pillow for just a moment before having to let him back down on the pillows.

"Severus! Wake up!" She shouted, tears abruptly streaming down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Slowly, her hands unknotted themselves from his gown, a fierce cramp in her right hand. Little dark spots appeared on his gown as her tears fell upon it.

"Severus…oh, please…I'm begging you…I…need you…" Ana sobbed, slumping forward to collapse on his chest, her slim body racked with her grief. Lapsing into her mother tongue, as she often did under stress, she buried her face in his chest and wept in despair.

"пожалуйста, пожалуйста проснуться, дорогая ... вернись ко мне ... Я прошу тебя..."

Eventually, the Russian was replaced by her weeping, noisy, heartrending sobs at first, tapering off to quieter sniffles. For a long time, the silence in the room was only punctuated by the sound of their breathing, or the occasional sob or later, hiccups from Ana as she lay atop him, feeling completely drained emotionally. Trembling slightly, she came to her senses, slowly realizing that her skirt had ridden up and now her bare thighs were against the thin sheet that covered him.

Ох боги. She thought, a surge of warmth sweeping through her, I'm sitting astraddle Snape as if he's a horse…and that's his…

Blushing fiercely, she quickly got off the bed and straightened up her skirts, nearly stumbling, feeling a bit too warm all of a sudden. Her knees felt weak. She unsteadily sat down in the chair, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse and retrieving the copy of Potions Monthly she'd thrown on the floor, using it to fan herself.

I mustn't do that again. Ever.

I'm glad the silencing charm was up. Merlin only knows what Poppy or the medical staff would have done had they heard my little outburst.

Or seen me sitting astride him, my skirt hiked up, with only a thin panel of silk, a sheet, and a cotton gown between us…

She shook her head, fighting to maintain some semblance of self-control and dignity. Closing her eyes, she breathed, concentrating on centering, on her Occlumency exercises. Breathe in, breathe out. Find your centre. Breathe in, breathe out.

After several minutes, she was finally calmed down, at least to the point where she could think again. She went to the loo and washed her face, and drank some water, then returned to her chair beside him. Picking up the Potions Monthly with a shaky hand, she found where she'd left off, and with difficulty, began to read again.

"If…if the gossander root is added to the mixture…before adding the beetle eyes, caution should be exercised when stirring to be precise and smooth with the glass rod or…the root will not properly be dissolved into the mixture, creating a hazardous, lumpy brew that could react explosively to the addition of beetle eyes. At the same time, if the mixture is stirred for too long…"

ooOoo

"I've been behaving myself well since then, Severus." She whispered to the silent figure on the bed. "Haven't I?"

Well, as well as I can, especially around him. She thought, and then blushed. Her dreams had taken some rather perverse turns lately.

You're not some old maid, you know. She chided herself. You're an adult witch with needs, and desires, and…

STOP IT. She scolded herself. Not here, not now, not any time. That kind of thinking is totally inappropriate here. I'm here to read to him, that's all. To stimulate his mind, to bring him out of this cursed state…

Is that all you want to stimulate? You know you want him. How many nights have you awakened, roiling with lust, dreaming of that night in France? a voice in her mind said. Remember how those long slender fingers felt on your bare skin, caressing you?

You still crave his touch, don't you?

She dropped the magazine, covering her cheeks in her hands like a shy schoolgirl, her face nearly as red as her scarlet blouse.

Oh, gods. I have to get control of myself here. This is Professor Snape, not some boy. And I'm a professor, a professional, not some love-mad schoolgirl-

She swallowed nervously, retrieving the magazine and turning the pages until she'd found where she'd left off reading.

I feel like I'm going mad. Day after day, reading to him, talking to him, with no response at all-

She dropped the magazine, slumping forward in the chair to bury her face in her hands with a long, shuddering sigh.

I really don't know how much more of this I can take.

ooOoo

A week later, things turned for the worse.

It was a lovely day, and Ana was looking forward to opening some of the windows that morning when she went to the Hospital Wing to read to Severus. She had bathed and dressed, and was brushing out her hair, when there was a knock at her door. With an annoyed groan, she went to the door and opened it, to find Poppy on the other side.

"Good morning, Professor Romanov-" The Medi-witch said, "Oh, my…what beautiful hair you have! And so long, too! Why, it's down past your waist!"

"Good morning, Poppy." She replied politely, struggling to conceal her irritation, "Won't you come in? I was just getting dressed, and needed to put my hair up before I went to breakfast-"

"Oh, I can't stay long, Ana. I need to run some errands, and I'll be away for a week or two."

"I see…" Realization slowly dawned on her that Poppy ran the hospital wing mostly by herself during the summer, allowing her help to take a holiday.

"But Poppy," Ana said with a frown, half dreading what the response might be, "Who will take care of…your patients?"

"Patients? What patients? I have only the one right now; Professor Snape." Poppy chuckled. "That's why I'm here to see you. You have had healer training, correct?"

Ana felt her heart sink.

Oh, no, she thought uneasily. Surely she doesn't expect me to-

"You've been taking such good care of Severus, I figured that you could handle his daily care for just a week, right? " Poppy went on, pulling a scrap of parchment out of her pocket. "Bath and toilet in the morning first thing, change the sheets and blankets, and so on. It's pretty easy. Read to him, talk to him, and let me know if there is any change in his condition."

Numbly, she felt Poppy press the parchment into her hand.

"Poppy…" She said, feeling the beginnings of panic, "Surely this isn't a good idea. Can't you get someone else…I mean, it's been a long time since my healer course that I took, and it was just the one, nothing more than basic first aid-"

"Not on such short notice, Ana. Unfortunately, the rest of my staff has gone off on summer holiday." The Medi-witch said, patting her on the arm reassuringly. "It's just for a week. I'll be back before you know it, don't you worry. Just floo me if you have any problems."

She watched, horrified, as Poppy swept out the door, closing it behind her.

This is like my worst dream come true, Ana thought, staring at the closed door as she clutched the parchment in her hand. Truly, the gods are mocking me…

ooOoo

"Minerva, are you sure this is wise?"

The Headmistress turned from the window to look at Poppy, now seated in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"Given what I've seen so far, I don't think she would do him any harm…and she may be doing him a lot of good." Minerva said dryly. "He'll be fine, Poppy. She'll take good care of him."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Said the Medi-witch, leaning forward. "I'm worried about my patient. She's had some healer training, but she's not certified. What if she-"

"Poppy, you have house elves to help her with him. They will let me know if anything happens."

Of course, they only report to me, Minerva thought. Good thing, what with that little 'indiscretion' of Ana's a few weeks ago. I'm glad I was able to talk the house elves into not reporting that to Poppy, otherwise she wouldn't take a holiday at all.

But then, that only served to confirm my suspicions of Professor Romanov. She was just a bit too eager to come here to teach Potions. At first, I was certain that she was hoping to secure the position of Potions professor on a permanent basis…but given what I've learned from Filch…and how much time she's spent with him, reading to him…

No, Minerva thought confidently, there's more to Professor Romanov's concern than just normal concern for a fellow human being, or even a friend.

Is she in love with him? I think that's more likely than not. She's an attractive young witch, very intelligent, and an excellent teacher. He would find her attractive, assuming he ever got over Lily Evans.

What happened between them?

Turning her attention back to the Medi-witch, she took off her reading glasses and set them down on her desk.

"Poppy, there is no change in his condition?" She asked.

"None, Minerva." Poppy said, shaking her head sadly. "He just…exists. We feed him a high protein liquid diet, but he's still losing weight, still losing muscle mass."

The Headmistress rubbed her temples with her fingers, sighing.

"Go take your holiday, Poppy." She said, "Enjoy it; I'll be here, and I'll keep an eye on things. Nothing will happen to Severus, I'll make sure of that."

"I certainly hope not, Minerva." Poppy said, rising to go. "He's suffered enough as it is."

ooOoo

The Hospital wing seemed eerily quiet. Ana stood in the doorway of Severus' room, a cart with cleaning supplies, fresh linens, and a clean gown behind her. She'd decided to eat breakfast later; the way her tummy felt, she didn't think she could eat anything just yet.

Best to get it over with, she mused. You can do this. You've seen boys and men naked before. They all look alike, right?

For some reason, her feet were unwilling to cooperate this morning. No matter what, she couldn't seem to go in the room.

For Merlin's sake, she chided herself, stop acting like some blushing virgin! You have a job to do!

Steeling herself, she took a step, then another. Forcing herself to approach the bed, she felt lightheaded, as if she might faint.

Just get it over with.

She took out the parchment to re-read her instructions.

"Avoid using scourgify, use warm water and mild antibacterial soap instead. Patient seems to experience discomfort when levitated."

She sighed, sticking the parchment back in her pocket.

Just imagine you're back in the orphanage, helping take care of the younger kids. Or when you babysat for the neighbors' children when you were young. You've bathed plenty of little boys. It's easy. Ana told herself, not feeling very encouraged at all.

Picking up the flannel and dipping it in the basin of warm water; she rubbed some soap on the flannel, and then picked up the sheets. Then proceeded to do what she was trying not to do; she looked under the sheet at him.

That's not a boy under there, she thought, blushing and dropping the sheet. Forcing herself to look up, she slid her hands blindly under the sheet, pushing aside the hospital gown.

I'll start at the feet, work my way up, skip…those parts, and then do his chest. Then, by the time I finish with his chest and back…I should be calm enough to tackle his…um, personal areas.

That should work, she told herself firmly. Just try not to look at him any more than necessary.

She was still quite flushed in the face by the time she reached his hips and veered around to his abdomen. To keep her mind busy, she chose to construct a mental list of what sins she committed, in this life or any past ones, to deserve such a punishment. Ana was quite certain by now that the gods were having a good laugh at her predicament, and she wasn't so sure that Poppy didn't saddle her with it on purpose.

Slowly, she worked her way up his chest, washing, rinsing, and drying as she went. The wandless drying charm didn't seem to bother him, but she used it sparingly anyway. By now, she had to pause to take a break every few minutes, just so she could fan herself and try to calm down. She hadn't counted on how much just touching him would bother her, or the effects it might have on her physiologically.

All I have left to do is wash his hair…and his um…personal areas…Ana thought, putting down the flannel and walking to the loo, where she splashed cold water on her face, trying to ignore the burning knot of desire in her belly that wouldn't go away. Oh, Merlin…how am I going to get through today, let alone a whole week of this?

You still want him, nagged the little voice in the back of her mind. He was your first, and that made him special, didn't it? You want to be with him again, to feel his touch, those slender fingers on your body, his-

"Rubbish." Ana muttered angrily, drying her face. Steeling herself, she went back to his bedside.

Alright, hair first, she thought briskly.

She went back to his bed and slid her hand under his head, lifting it up and setting it on a towel. Wetting his hair with the flannel, she deftly worked lather up with the shampoo, working it through his black hair, massaging his scalp gently. Then she froze.

He had moved.

Not much, just a slight shift of his head, with a contented sigh to accompany it.

Ana found herself unable to move, her hands cradling his wet hair and his head gently. She watched his eyes intently, but they did not open. Fear and longing warred within her; there was nothing she wanted more at that point in time than for him to open his eyes, yet the prospect terrified her.

What would I say to him?

She swallowed nervously and continued to wash his hair, carefully rinsing and drying it. He made no further movements, seemingly content to just lay there. After she finished, she went to the bathroom and got a drink of water, leaning against the sink.

You're stalling again. She chided herself, soaping up the flannel again, preparing herself mentally to wash the last part, the areas she had been dreading.

What will I do if he wakes up? Ana thought, blushing deeply. Say, Good morning, Severus, I'm washing your privates, don't mind me?

If he wakes up, I'll just die from embarrassment, I think. I really will. I'll just find a crack in the floor tile and crawl down in it to hide.

Taking a deep breath and casting her eyes toward the ceiling to murmur a silent prayer to bolster her courage, she lifted the sheet and reached under it with the flannel. With no small effort, she rolled him on his side to do his backside first, still putting off the other areas. When she finished, she swallowed nervously, then reached between his legs to begin washing him there. After that, sliding her hand up, she gritted her teeth and looked up toward the ceiling again, closing her eyes as her hand made contact with his…

She yanked her hand away as if she'd been burned.

Oh, gods. I…I just can't. Dropping the flannel on the cart in the basin, she went back to the loo. She washed her face with cold water, twice, then conjured a glass and filled it, drinking it down as she leaned weakly against the wall. Vanishing the glass, she rubbed her eyes.

You've seen him before, touched him before, sneered a little voice in her head, cruelly mocking her. You liked it then, so why are you pretending to be so shy now? Hypocrite.

You know you want him.

"Shut up." Ana hissed, pressing her hands to the sides of her head and closing her eyes. After a few minutes, she washed her face with cold water once again. When she finally felt that she had recovered some measure of self-control, she went back to finish the job.

Compared to the bed bath, it took her virtually no time at all to change the linens on the bed and his hospital gown. She changed his gown with him under the sheet, her eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling.

Coward, she scolded herself.

She collected her supplies and the cart, and wheeled it back to its storage area, disposing of the dirty linens in the laundry chute. Then she headed straight to the nearest floo, at the front of the hospital wing, her black boots clicking on the stone floor.

ooOoo

The worst part of her conversation with Poppy that afternoon was when the Medi-witch asked why she didn't just simply summon the house elves to help her with bathing Snape and changing his linens. Stunned, Ana just sat there in front of the floo, blinking stupidly.

I should have thought of that, she scolded herself. I knew that, it was on the list...I'm such a moron.

"You know, dear, the house elves take care of his catheter and bedpan around the clock so he doesn't soil himself." Poppy had said. "You'll hurt yourself trying to move him around all by yourself, dear. Don't be foolish."

I am so stupid, Ana thought, rubbing her forehead. She almost completely forgot to mention what else had happened.

"Oh, Poppy…while I was washing his hair, he moved a bit."

"Really? That's good, but don't get too excited. He may be coming out of the comatose state, but don't get your hopes up, just wait and see what happens. You can't rush this kind of thing."

"I…I know." She sighed. "I just thought it might be a good sign."

"Ana, these things take time. Right now, Severus' body is healing, but there's no way to tell how long the process will take." The older woman said gently, smiling at her through the green flames. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up too much, only to have them dashed. Do I need to come back to help you?"

"Um, no, no!" Ana said, just a bit too quickly.

Smooth, Professor Romanov, she thought.

"I…I think I can handle this," Ana said, "especially after you reminded me to get the house elves to help. I just forgot, I suppose."

"Yes, they do a good job with him, keeping his private parts clean and dry." Poppy chuckled. "It's much like taking care of an infant, isn't it?"

Ana cringed, ashamed to remember her angry outburst when she manhandled Severus in his bed. I could have really hurt him, thanks to my emotions…and I forget how strong my arm is.

"Ana? Are you still there?"

"Um, yes, I'm still here, Poppy."

"Don't work yourself too hard, dear. Let the house elves help you, they don't mind at all. They respect Severus quite a bit, you know."

"Alright." She replied, with a deep sigh. "I think I'm going to get a book and read to him a bit, before it's time for lunch. I'll floo you if anything else comes up. Thank you, Poppy."

"Goodbye, dear."

The flames shifted from green to their more normal colors, and she sighed again, rubbing her eyes wearily.

I thought I was able to handle this…but I'm starting to wonder.

ooOoo

Author's notes:

My youngest son studies Russian; I actually don't know it that well myself. Fascinating language, though. Translation errors are my own, probably magnified by Gxxgle Translate. Hey, Tolkien made up a language, but I'm not that talented. ;-)

"пожалуйста, пожалуйста проснуться, дорогая ... вернись ко мне ... Я прошу тебя..." translates as, "please, please wake up, darling…come back to me, I'm begging you…"

"Ох боги." – Oh gods.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

~Chapter 4~

"Ana?"

She sat up on the cot that she'd transfigured from the chair, rubbing sleep from her eyes in the late afternoon light. Tucking away some stray hair that had escaped her braid, she turned to the doorway.

"Oh…good morning, Headmistress." She said, blushing a bit.

Minerva walked in, transfiguring a flannel on the bedside table into a comfy armchair and sitting down.

"You look dreadful, Ana." She said gently, eyes full of warmth. "When was the last time you really slept well? That cot can't be all that comfortable."

"We just had a bad night last night, and an awful morning." Ana replied, stifling a yawn. "He…I think he may be getting closer to waking up. At least I hope so. He's definitely not getting any easier to take care of."

Frowning, Minerva leaned forward, taking Ana by the chin and turning her head. A small abrasion marred the younger woman's pale cheek, the fair skin already showing signs of what would undoubtedly be a fine bruise.

"What happened?" She asked, releasing Ana's chin.

"I…I was cleaning his neck this morning, getting ready to change the dressing on the bite." Ana said, unconsciously reaching up to touch her injury. "He struck out at me, as if he were trying to fight me off. Just screamed and started fighting. It was an accident, I just happened to be in the way, he was just flailing around blindly."

"But he never woke?"

"No…he never opened his eyes." Ana said miserably. She didn't mention anything else.

No need for the Headmistress to know any of that, she thought, turning away so Minerva didn't see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

ooOoo

She laid on the floor for a long moment, stunned, her hand to her left cheek where he'd struck her. The ringing in her ear had dimmed somewhat, but she still felt a bit dizzy.

He was still now, the sheets a tangle around his upper body, pillows on the floor.

Ana cautiously got up, steadying herself on the bedside table. Picking up the flannel and the soap, she set them back on the cart and vanished the water on the floor from the overturned basin. Rubbing her hip where she'd struck the cart when she fell-that's going to leave a good bruise, she thought-she carefully approached the bed.

He lay on his left side, his back to her, trembling violently with tears streaming down his cheeks. Warily, she went around to the other side of the bed, clean flannel in hand. She'd been cleaning his neck around the nearly healed bites from the Dark Lord's snake when it had happened, so suddenly she had no chance to protect herself. With a scream, he'd flailed his arms, hitting her in the left cheekbone, knocking her down.

Ana cautiously reached out with her good hand, the one with no glove on it, and gently, carefully touched his forehead, running her fingers along the crease in his forehead.

"Shush, it's alright. You're safe, darling." She said softly, caressing his forehead, watching the worry lines fade away as he relaxed. "Ты в безопасности, я не сделаю тебе больно, дорогая."

Slowly, the tension in his body melted away, and Ana felt she could relax a bit. He allowed her to finish washing him, and to change his gown and linens. Exhausted, she perched on the edge of the bed. She rubbed her temples, trying to get some relief from the headache that was coming on, causing a pounding in her head that was nearly unbearable.

It must be all the stress, she thought. I didn't use to get headaches like this.

I wish you would just wake up, Severus, she thought sadly, watching him breathe. It doesn't even matter if you get angry that I'm here, that you would want me to leave.

I just want you to be back with us again.

Because this is worse than seeing you dead, a thousand times worse.

I would do anything to have you back again, she thought miserably, a tear rolling down her cheek.

She took his hand, limp but warm in hers, biting her lip.

I shouldn't do this, she thought, then sighed. Who's going to catch me?

She pulled out her wand, quietly closing the door and warding it, and then laid her wand on the bedside table. Moving Severus' left arm away from his body just a bit, she climbed onto the bed and lay down beside him, nestling into the side of his chest, her ear to his heart. Her eyes filled with tears as she lay there, just listening to his heartbeat, just feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Just for a little bit, Severus," she whispered sadly, "So I can pretend that you are mine…and I am yours."

Because soon, all too soon, you will awaken, she thought, closing her eyes. And then, this will all be over, and I will return to Beauxbatons…and try to forget you, once again.

ooOoo

"Ana?"

She sat up, startled, stray hair everywhere from where it had somehow escaped her braid during the night. She'd fallen asleep sitting next to Severus' bed, her head pillowed on her arms, her fingers intertwined with his. She let go of his hand, a guilty blush on her cheeks.

Poppy was standing at the foot of Severus' bed, looking down at her with concern.

"Merlin, what happened to your cheek?" The Medi-witch asked, leaning over to take a better look. Today, the bruise was quite lovely-a mix of purple, blue, and green, about thirty millimeters across and contrasting sharply against her fair skin. Ana had rubbed some dittany on it the night before, and that had helped a bit, but the damage was done.

"I…well…I was cleaning his neck and…he hit me. I think he thought the snake was after him again, perhaps."

"Did he wake up?" Poppy asked, excitement shining in her eyes.

"No." Ana said glumly.

"But that's excellent!" The Medi-witch said brightly. "He could be getting closer to waking up!"

"Poppy, is…is there any way to tell if he's going to wake up soon?"

"Not really, dear. The brain is funny about injuries, even with magic we can't really predict what will happen with it."

Ana rubbed her eyes, and then stretched.

"Well, does this mean that I'm off duty as a healer?" She said hopefully. "It would be nice to sleep in my own bed tonight, have a long soak in a hot bath maybe."

"Did he say anything when he hit you?" Poppy asked, taking her wand out and running a few diagnostic spells on Severus.

"Nothing intelligible." Ana replied, leaning against the windowsill to watch the Medi-witch check her patient. "Just some sort of yell, nothing I could understand…a primal vocalization."

"Hmm. Well, he's fine, so you are free to go."

"I…I'll be up later to read to him..." Ana said hesitantly, picking up her books to put in her bag. "If that's alright."

"Oh, of course, dear." Poppy smiled. "Severus probably looks forward to it!"

Ana smiled, in a kind of formal way that didn't reflect how she felt, then left the room.

I don't want to leave him, she thought as she slowly walked toward her rooms.

What will I do when he wakes up? That's the big question, the one I can't come up with an answer for.

But it will have to be answered, and soon.

ooOoo

It's so dark here. I can hardly see, he thought.

Where am I?

Nagini had come back, he knew that. He'd driven the hateful snake away, though, without being bitten this time.

His surroundings put him to mind of Hogwarts, though Hogwarts had never been this dark and dreary. Gray stone underfoot, with towers that were mostly rubble. Mist obscured distant mountains, with little wind to carry it away. Turning his head, he saw a figure approaching, shimmering in the mists.

As the figure slowly drew closer, he could see that it was a woman. She was dressed in a simple peasant skirt and blouse, barefoot on the gray stone, with fair skin and dark hair.

Now, she was speaking to him, caressing his face.

"Ты в безопасности, я не сделаю тебе больно, дорогая." She said softly, her touch gentle and kind.

Russian? Who? Where was he?

The scene around him blurred, though the woman was still there, dressed in a sheer white robe.

They were standing in a clearing, with huge trees towering overhead all around them. It was snowing, big fat fluffy flakes of it, snowflakes glistening in her hair as she smiled at him. She slid her arms around him, hugging him close to her as she murmured quiet endearments into his chest. He tensed, unsure of this. This is madness, he thought, women don't just hug me. Not even Lily.

"I am not Lily," she said, raising gray eyes to look at him. "I am your future."

"Who are you? What is this place?" He asked, glancing around them again.

"You are trapped in your mind, suffering from Nagini's venom."

"Then, you must be a hallucination." He said sharply.

"If I were a hallucination," She laughed, "could I do this?"

She stroked his face gently, raising her lips to his. They were soft, and tasted of honey and cinnamon.

He relaxed, allowing himself to drift away, his arms closing around her.

When she broke the kiss, smiling shyly at him, he sighed.

"I still think you are a hallucination." He whispered.

"Then I will kiss you some more. But I caution you, our time together is short. Soon, you will have to go back to where you came from, to your life."

"But I won't see you again." He said anxiously, reluctant to see her go.

"You will." She smiled. "You just have to find me. Now, rest. Heal."

He relaxed, drifting back into the void.

ooOoo

After spending most of the afternoon reading to Severus, with only a short break for dinner, Ana went back to her rooms. She felt rather out of place spending time there, after having spent nearly a week in the hospital wing with him.

But even her time reading to him was coming to an end, for the most part. If he didn't wake up in the next few weeks, she would be fully involved in teaching classes when fall term began.

Even if he does wake up soon, he won't be able to teach yet, not until he's strong enough to get around, to lecture, she realized. No matter what, I'm trapped here, until he can teach. I'll have to avoid him as best I can, until then.

Because I surely cannot face him again…not now.

Not after what happened to me…

She shuddered at the memory, dropping her bag on the desk and heading to the bathroom after locking and warding her door.

Turning on the taps for her tub, she cast a warming charm to hold the temperature exactly where she preferred it, and then began to undress. Dropping her skirt and the maroon top in the clothes hamper for the laundry, along with her bra and panties, she happened to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she walked to the tub. She turned the water off, and then turned back to the mirror, looking at her reflection again. For a long moment, she just stood silently, looking at herself, fists tightly clenched.

Looking at her reflection in the glass.

At the bruise on her face, all purple and green today, with hints of blue.

At the circles under her eyes.

At the terrible, ugly scars that covered half of her right arm and nearly the entire left side of her body, from her shoulder to her slender calf…at her left arm.

And just like that, suddenly she was back at Beauxbatons, in the bell tower, the acrid smell of Fiendfyre sharp in her nostrils, hearing the students screaming in the dormitory as the Death Eaters burned them alive. Blasting the heavy stones again and again with Bombarda Maxima, draining her magic frantically as she fought to get the doors open. Grabbing the burning wood of the door with her bare hands, the smell of her hands cooking in the flames as she strained to pull the wreckage of the door away, the awful pain of the Fiendfyre as it ate through her robes to sear her flesh. Realizing that now her screams were added to the cries of the dying students and faculty trapped inside the dormitory. The acrid smell of her hair burning. The pitiful hand, burned beyond recognition, reaching for her as the student died.

I failed her, she thought bitterly. I couldn't save her; I couldn't save any of them. I killed sixty-three Death Eaters that day, but I couldn't save a single child in that dormitory. I-

Ana swayed for a moment, the room seeming to spin around her, her left hand instinctively grasping at the edge of the sink to catch herself as her knees gave way. Nausea swept through her, sending her stumbling toward the loo, falling to her knees before it as she retched violently. When her stomach had emptied itself, she flushed, sliding to the floor, shivering against the cool stone as she wept.

He wouldn't want me, if he saw what I look like now. No man on earth would want me. I'm ugly, a hideous monster. A failure.

I shouldn't have left him to fend for himself in Porto-Pollo. I rejected him, driving him away, into the arms of a woman long dead. I could have saved him.

Lily could not; she chose another, yet Severus still wanted her.

Would he have chosen me over her, given the choice?

It doesn't matter, does it? I took that choice away from him, abandoned him when he needed me.

How could I even dare to think that I have any claim to him?

He would never want me. I was ugly and hateful to him.

And now, I'm ugly.

She wept, freely and openly, hugging herself next to the loo, lying there naked and shivering on the cold stone floor.

When she could cry no more, she slipped on her dressing gown and went to the icebox, retrieving a bottle of vodka and a water glass. Returning to the bathroom, she conjured a small table, putting it next to the tub, placing the glass on it and filling it with the clear liquor. Setting the bottle down, she dropped her robe and climbed into the steamy water of the tub.

Tomorrow is Saturday, she thought, retrieving her glass and taking a drink. Сегодня я буду пить, пока я не забыл.

Poppy will have to find someone else to read to him. I'm finished; I can't do it any longer. I just can't take it any more of this. Tomorrow, I'm packing my bag and handing in my resignation.

And then I will buy a portkey for the farthest point of the earth from Hogwarts, where I will never be found.

Because in the end, I'm just a coward.

I don't deserve him.

ooOoo

Minerva was in her office the next morning, sipping her tea while she listened to the house elf's report.

"So, Tilly," She said, setting down her cup, "Professor Romanov finished cleaning up Professor Snape, and then changed his gown and linens?"

"Yes, Headmistress," Tilly said, nodding her head, twisting the hem of her white flannel that she wore. "Then Professor Romanov, she got into the bed with Professor Snape. She lay down with him, put her head on his chest, and cried. She cried for a long time, she did."

"Tilly, in your opinion, was there any improper behavior on the part of Professor Romanov?"

"No, Headmistress." The house elf said, shaking her head. "Professor Romanov, she cares about Professor Snape very much, she never do anything wrong. She cries, she wishes he would wake up. But she is afraid he will send her away. Give her clothes."

The house elf shuddered visibly at this last part.

So, Minerva thought, Professor Romanov shared Severus' hospital bed for a while, hmm? How interesting.

Suddenly her floo flared to life with green flames, Poppy's head appearing in them.

"Minerva! Are you there?" She shouted urgently.

With a pop, Tilly vanished.

"Yes, Poppy, I'm here." The Headmistress replied, setting her quill down and crossing her office to the fireplace. "What on earth is going on? Is Severus awake?"

"I wish that was what it was! It…it's Professor Romanov, Headmistress. You'd better come down to the Hospital wing right away."

Minerva took a handful of floo powder, tossing it into the fireplace.

"Hospital wing." She said, stepping into the flames.

Poppy was waiting on her, wringing her hands nervously. A house elf that Minerva didn't recognize sat on the floor, wailing and banging her head against the stones.

"Stop it!" Minerva snapped, kneeling down to grab the house elf by to stop her from abusing herself. "Who are you, and who do you serve?"

"Myrtle, Headmistress." The house elf sniffled. "I was supposed to serve the nice Potions Mistress, I was. But I failed, I failed! Myrtle is a bad, bad, terrible elf! Myrtle allowed the nice Professor to hurt herself! Myrtle was too busy to check on her, Myrtle should have not listened to her when she said she wanted to be alone! Myrtle will iron her ears! Myrtle will slam her fingers in the doors of the Great Hall! Myrtle will-"

"Enough, already!" Minerva thundered, eyes flashing. The house elf stumbled backward, fleeing to hide under Poppy's desk.

"Poppy, take me to her, now." The Headmistress said. "What happened?"

"The house elf was in her rooms to pick up her laundry, she found her in the tub." Poppy said, pushing open a door. "I don't think she was under the water that long, she seems to be alright, but she'd been drinking. She's not awake yet."

"Drinking? What, firewhiskey?"

"Vodka." Poppy said grimly. "The bottle the house elf found in the bathroom with her was nearly empty. It'll be a thousand wonders if she doesn't have alcohol poisoning, as petite as she is. When I got her down here, she was blue, had aspirated some water. Lord knows, she was about shriveled up like a prune, she'd been in the tub so long."

Ana lay unmoving, nearly as pale and lifeless as Severus, on the bed, only her face and right arm showing above the blankets that covered her. Her hair was gathered into a loose ponytail, curled up beside her. Her lips were still a bit blue, but her chest was rising and falling regularly, the only movement on the bed.

"You foolish girl." Minerva said softly, shaking her head in dismay. "You foolish, foolish girl. What have you done to yourself?"

ooOoo

Author's notes:

Ты в безопасности, я не сделаю тебе больно, дорогая. – "You're safe, I won't hurt you, darling."

Сегодня я буду пить, пока я не забыл. – "Tonight, I will drink until I forget."

I'm a huge nerd when it comes to words, and collect them enthusiastically. So, here is the word that captured my attention today, when I began writing this chapter:

induratize

(v.) to make one's own heart hardened or resistant to someone's pleas or advances, or to the idea of love. Pronunciation: in-'dur-a-tīz

For some reason, that word has a lot of significance to me personally. Odd that I don't believe in the idea of love, but write so much about it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

~Chapter 5~

"It's time for you to leave me."

"I murdered Dumbledore. I can't go back there."

"You ended his suffering, maintained your deception of the Dark Lord so that he could be defeated. Set the stage, laid a trap for him, all to buy time for Harry Potter to become strong enough to defeat him. Right to the end, Voldemort never doubted your loyalty, and it led to his downfall."

"Who would trust me now? Severus said, deeply ashamed. By staying true to one master, I betrayed another…yet I killed the master I was loyal to."

Silence.

"They'll put me in Azkaban. They'll break my wand. I'll never brew potions, never do magic again."

"You must go back, Severus. Our time is up."

"Don't leave me!"

She turned to go, her form blurring before his eyes. Desperately, he reached out to catch her shimmering dress, grasping it in his hand. He pulled on it, but it simply dissipated in his fingers.

She was gone.

In her place was a door, in a decrepit ruin of an old mansion.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the knob, and then paused.

He could hear something from within.

"Help me…please…"

He opened the door, squinting his eyes against the brilliant light.

ooOoo

A gray stone ceiling and walls, with white drapes. From the light coming in the window, he could tell that the sun was just barely up. He felt as if he had gravel under his eyelids, and the bit of light coming in through the curtains hurt his eyes.

He wiggled his toes experimentally. Difficult, but certainly doable. His body felt stiff, heavy and rather awkward, with his neck feeling especially stiff.

Glancing to either side, as his eyes adapted to the light and were able to focus better, he saw a bedside table, a window. In the distance, the Whomping Willow.

I'm alive. Severus thought. Unless heaven or hell resembles the hospital wing at Hogwarts. I think it would probably be either hell, or perhaps purgatory. But not heaven.

He began to hunt for the call bell, and when he finally found it, he rang it. Several times, over and over again, with just a bit of malicious pleasure. He'd never been a very pleasant patient during his past confinements to the Hospital Wing, and he had no intentions of behaving any differently now.

ooOoo

Poppy was enjoying a bit of morning tea and a pleasant chat with Minerva in the Great Hall while the house elves cleared the breakfast dishes, the faint clinks and rustling echoing in the empty hall. Picking up her cup of tea, she cradled the cup in both hands, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of it on her hands. She had just taken a sip when she felt and heard the tiny device in her pocket start to buzz.

"Oh, dear." She frowned, setting her cup down on its saucer and digging in her pocket.

"What is it, Poppy?"

"Oh, it's my staff calling me," She said, holding the buzzing device up and switching it off. "I got this for them to inform me when they need me in the infirmary…and Ana was fine earlier, still resting…"

Her eyes went wide as she realized what her assistant had most likely summoned her for, glancing at the Headmistress with widening eyes.

"Severus." Both women said, almost as one, and flew from the Great Hall.

ooOoo

As they approached his room, they could easily hear him arguing with the Assistant Healer, long before they reached the doorway.

"I will NOT be pawed at, thank you." He hissed.

Poppy and Minerva walked into the room to find Severus struggling to get up from the bed, with the young Healer trying to prevent it, with only marginal success. He was sitting upright in the bed, glowering balefully at the young witch. When she glanced behind her and saw Poppy, her expression lost a bit of its panic and gained some relief, though she was still quite upset.

"Severus." Poppy said calmly, "What do you think you are doing? You've been in a coma for nearly three months!"

"I'm getting out of here, Poppy." He growled, swinging his legs out of the bed, preparing to stand up.

"Sir, please!" Said the young Healer, veering toward a full panic now. "You really shouldn't get up—"

He scowled at her, a cruel glare that forced her to retreat, trembling visibly.

"Severus, I must advise you against getting up." Poppy said.

"Poppy, as much as I enjoy being a guest in your fine establishment, I really would prefer to sleep in my own bed-"Severus said, pushing down with his hands and standing up, swaying just slightly as he stood before them.

"See? Fit as a fiddle." He smirked, taking a step toward the door. "It would seem that I no longer have need of your services."

Mustering what dignity he could in the flimsy hospital gown, he started toward the door.

Minerva and the young Healer winced as he fell flat on his face with a most profane oath.

"Nice ass." Poppy smirked.

The young healer blushed and fled the room.

Severus rolled over on his side; tugging his gown closed at the back to preserve what dignity he had remaining. He gingerly examined his nose with his fingers, to see if he had broken it. Again.

While it was bleeding, it wasn't broken. One thing I don't need to worry about, he thought.

"I tried to warn you, Severus." Poppy said, smiling and taking her wand out. "But as usual, you are too stubborn to listen to me. I'd say you're well on the road to recovery."

She levitated him to the bed, ignoring the baleful glare he gave her as he struggled to keep his backside covered with the thin gown. Minerva chuckled.

"Do you mind?" Severus hissed balefully at her. "Go to London if you want to see such."

"It will probably be more than a week before you can try to escape again." Poppy said, covering him up with the sheets as he sulked. "Severus, you just woke up from a coma. I'll need to run some tests to make sure you're alright, and then we'll need to do some physical therapy to get your legs back up to their normal strength."

"Yes, yes, I know." He hissed irritably.

"I mean it, Severus." Poppy lectured him. "You stay in your bed, or I'll body-bind you."

He glowered at the Medi-Witch, but said nothing else.

Minerva carefully kept silent, struggling to keep a straight face.

Once Poppy had situated Severus, Minerva cleared her throat.

"Poppy, how is…your other patient?" She asked cautiously. "You know, our 'guest.' "

Poppy looked surprised for a moment, but recovered quickly when Minerva winked at her, turning so Severus didn't see it.

"Oh…she's fine." Poppy said warily, frowning. "Um…not awake yet, but doing well enough."

"That's good." The Headmistress said, sitting down in the chair by Severus' bed. She picked up one of the books from the stack that sat on the bedside table.

"Hmm…Begley's Treatise on Elixirs of the Andes," She murmured, idly leafing through it. She paid no mind to Poppy mouthing 'What the hell are you doing?', or to Severus, whose face first registered shock, then quickly shifted to anger.

"What…are you doing with my book?" He hissed, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized that a good dozen of some of his most precious books were sitting on his bedside table, along with several issues of Potions Monthly and The Daily Prophet.

"What…who brought all of these books up here?!" He shouted, giving Poppy cause for alarm. He had turned quite red by this time, his fists clenched in rage.

"We've been reading to you." Minerva said calmly, closing the book and placing it carefully on the stack. "Poppy read in a Muggle medical journal that reading to comatose patients can be quite helpful-"

"Yes, yes, I know." Severus snapped disdainfully. "I read the article in the New England Journal of Medicine, two years ago. Rubbish. A tenuous theory built on a shaky hypothesis and supported by the most insubstantial research. Muggles will believe anything."

Poppy sighed audibly, as much for the fact that Severus seemed to be calming down as anything. Taking out her wand again, she ran it over his body, mainly over his head, to assess his condition. When she was satisfied, she put her wand away, crossing her arms.

"Severus, we read to you, talked to you, every day." She said, quite exasperated by now with him. "If it helped, good. Don't be so cross about it, your books were in good hands."

He glared at her, then Minerva.

"Well, I can read perfectly well on my own now." He hissed. "I don't need your help."

Poppy sighed and left the room, nodding goodbye to Minerva as she went.

A long moment passed, with Severus glaring steadily at the Headmistress.

"Don't you have something else to do?" He said acidly. "Headmistress duties of some sort?"

"We need to talk, Severus." Minerva said quietly.

"About what?"

"Do you want your position as Potions Professor back?"

Snape's jaw sagged, his eyes growing wide.

Over the next two hours, with Poppy's assistance, Minerva filled him in on what had happened while he was comatose.

The defeat of the Death Eaters and the death of the Dark Lord.

Those who were gone. She was surprised that he seemed rather shaken when she told him that Remus Lupin was dead; for a few moments, he actually wept.

How he had been cleared in absentia of all criminal charges by the Wizengamot.

That the Ministry had unanimously voted to award him an Order of Merlin, First Class, for, "Heroism and Selfless Sacrifice that saved millions of innocent lives."

"That seems a bit exaggerated." He said shyly, profoundly embarrassed. "Millions? Rubbish."

"Severus," Minerva said, taking his hand, "Potentially, what you did saved countless lives. The Dark Lord would have slaughtered Muggles, anyone who dared oppose him had he won. You of all people know how bad it could have been, had Voldemort prevailed."

He looked uncomfortably at her holding his hand, and she released it with a sigh.

"Is…the other patient you asked Poppy about…is she a victim of the war also?" He asked softly.

"In a way, yes." Minerva replied, nodding her head. "She is."

ooOoo

"Ahem."

Ana froze where she was, nearly to the door of the Hospital wing and freedom, awkwardly clutching the hospital gown closed behind her with one hand in an attempt to preserve her modesty.

"And just where do you think you are headed, young lady?" Poppy said, walking up behind her to drape a bathrobe around her.

"I…I…" Ana stammered, panic setting in.

He's awake, she thought uneasily. I heard him talking, clear as a bell. I have to get out of here; I have to get back to France. He'll be furious when he finds out that I'm here.

"I know what happened." Poppy said, taking her firmly by the arm to escort her back to her room. "You were just out for a stroll, and were just now on your way back to your bed. Problem is, I haven't examined you and cleared you to get out of bed, young lady. Severus is awake, isn't that marvelous? Did you want to go by and see him before I take you back to your room?"

Ana's face turned deathly pale.

"NO!" She blurted out. "I-I-I mean, I don't know if that's such a good idea…if he just woke up, I'm sure that he's very weak. He needs to rest."

"By all means, bring her in, Poppy." Minerva said, stepping out of Severus' room. "I'm sure Severus would like to personally thank the person who spent so many hours reading and talking to him."

Ana suddenly felt as if she were going to be physically sick, her stomach rolling with nausea.

"Poppy…please…I…I don't feel well…" She said urgently, her voice not much more than a whisper. "Can…can I go back to my room instead? Please?"

Minerva walked over to her, placing her hand on Ana's shoulder gently.

"Are you sure you don't want to see him, dear?" The Headmistress asked, her voice soft, her eyes warm.

"I…I'm afraid." She replied, visibly cringing. "Please don't…don't make me go see him…"

"Then, let's go back to your room, dear." Minerva sighed, taking her arm.

It was quite a sight, a young woman being helped down the hallway by two women who were more than twice her age.

ooOoo

Severus lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. With his excellent hearing, he'd heard every word spoken in the hallway just outside his door.

Anastaysia Romanov. So that was who the mystery patient was.

What the hell is she doing HERE? He thought, frowning.

After a while, Minerva walked back into his room, coming over to sit again in the chair next to his bed.

"Why is SHE here, Minerva?" Severus asked, glaring at the Headmistress.

"Who, Severus?"

"Don't play the dullard with me, Headmistress. Ana Romanov."

Minerva sighed heavily, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I needed a Potions Professor to finish out the term, Severus. Mine was indisposed."

"Really. I wasn't aware of that." He smirked.

"Severus, she's one of the brightest and youngest witches to earn the title of Potions Mistress-"

"Really? So you let her come here, seeking to take my job? Your back up plan, had I not awakened?"

"Oh, you stubborn fool!" Minerva snapped in exasperation. "I can see that you are recovering quickly! Professor Romanov already has a job, at Beauxbatons as an assistant professor! I had to seek her out, she never applied for the temporary position that I advertised in The Prophet. She was the only competent person that I could find that didn't want to take your job away from you!"

"Kirov would have been the best choice."

"Kirov is dead. Ramsey is still petrified. Xiao, Miller, Woodsworth, all missing since the end of the war, no sign of them." Minerva sighed. "Shall I go on? Shackleford, Higgins, Moriyama, they are all dead. Then, there's Elizabeth Moore. Alive, but she won't be making potions any time soon, not without hands. And-"

"Enough, already." He conceded, frowning. "You've made your point."

"The ministry appointed me Headmistress of this school, Severus, after…after you left." She said, rubbing her temples. "Complete with all of the headaches that go with the job."

Severus lay in the bed silently.

"Severus, I need to tell you something." She said, leaning forward, looking him hard in the eyes. "It was Ana who read to you, talked to you. Every day, day after day, for these past three months. At one point, she nearly lost her voice and I had to make her stop, so I read to you for five days."

"What rubbish." He sneered, glancing away as he crossed his arms. "I can't believe you buy into that Muggle claptrap. Sentimental rubbish."

"When the school year ended, she was up here most of the day, from just after breakfast until nearly midnight most nights. I suspect that she spent more than a few nights up here, just sitting with you.

"You awakened because she stopped." Minerva went on. "She…she fell ill a few days ago. The house elves found her unconscious and brought her to the Hospital wing."

"Nonsense." He said irritably. "If she stopped reading to me when she lost her voice, and all she had to do was stop reading to me for me to wake up, it should have happened then."

"I think that you woke up because there is a connection between you two. It was broken when she was unable to read to you the last few days."

"Rubbish."

"When she lost her voice, you didn't wake up, because at some level, you still felt her presence. While she couldn't talk, she was up and about, and she did come by to see you, even though she wasn't allowed to talk to you.

"Besides, she didn't lose her voice completely. I just told her not to read to you."

"I fail to see how any of this is related to my waking up." Severus sneered.

Minerva sighed.

"Well, obviously, you are much better and healing rapidly." She said coolly, rising to leave. "You're just as much an insufferable ass as you normally are."

With that, the Headmistress turned on her heel and left the room.

ooOoo

She met Poppy in the hallway, escorting an older wizard, a large toolbox floating along the hall behind him.

"Ah, Minerva!" Poppy exclaimed, "I have someone for you to meet! Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, may I present Sir Harold G. Petto. He's here to see Professor Romanov."

"I'm pleased to meet you, sir." Minerva smiled warmly. "I'm glad you are here; your reputation precedes you. I understand that you did the original work?"

"Yes, yes." Sir Petto, said warmly, his blue eyes twinkling. "One of my finest accomplishments, if I do say so myself. I've made improvement since then, of course, all of which I will add to this one."

"You do have it, yes?" He said to Poppy, a bit of anxiety in his voice.

"Yes," Poppy nodded, "It's in her room, on a table set up by the window sill. I figured that would give you good light to make the repairs, as well as make refitting it convenient when you're finished."

"Splendid, splendid." He smiled, "Well, let's go see my favorite patient, shall we?"

Minerva fell in alongside them as they made their way to Ana's room. She was propped up in bed with a book, reading, when the three of them came in. She smiled, until she saw Sir Petto. Dropping the book, she tugged the sheet up to her chin, trembling visibly.

"Ana, my dear," He said gently, "There is no reason to be afraid. I-"

"I-I-I broke it…" She stammered, bursting into tears. "I'm…I'm sorry…"

The old wizard crossed the room to gather her into his arms, shushing her like a child.

"Now, now…shhh." Sir Petto said, patting her gently on the back as she sobbed, burying her face in his old flannel robes. "There, there…sweetheart, it's alright now. Everything's going to be fine."

"I…I got your robes all dirty…" She sniffed, wiping at a long string of mucus she had left there.

"No worries, my dear." He chuckled, hugging her close. "You know these are my working robes, the ones I wear in the shop. They've seen far worse, far worse indeed. You know that, dear."

Slowly, she calmed down and relaxed, clinging to the old wizard's robes, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Ana whispered to him, her fingers worrying at a loose thread in his robes, "I…I didn't intend to submerge it. I guess I shorted something out…"

"Well, don't worry, darling." He smiled at her affectionately. "Let's take a look at your shoulder, and then we'll fix your arm. I made it; I can fix it, right?"

With Poppy's assistance, he rolled up the left sleeve of her hospital gown, exposing her shoulder. Pale skin marred by a metallic, rounded plate with a socket for her artificial arm. Picking up a Muggle multi-meter, he began testing the contacts in her shoulder.

ooOoo

Author's notes:

I expect that I may get some hate mail over this turn of the story, but that's the breaks. I wanted to write an OC who is very strong, but weak at the same time. We'll see where this goes in the next chapter, shall we?