(A/N: We rejoin Snape after a long, long night. His head, still bleeding, is the last thing on his mind. Please read and enjoy! And let me know what you think! That's the best part of writing! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)

In the Head of the Snake

Chapter 11: Last Choice

A third thing occurred to Snape as he entered through gates of Hogwarts, the winged boars topping the gates grinning madly at him. How did Dumbledore know? That he and Ginny had kissed. He stumbled over his thoughts. No. How did Dumbledore know that Ginny had kissed him. That was more like it.

But his thoughts wondered on past the kiss to a more pressing matter; why hadn't the Dark Lord been able to see Ginny in his head? He hadn't been trying to hide the girl – trying to hide something from that mad man was the equivalent of suicide – and he had been thinking about her the whole time...in terms of the logistics of Legilimens, it didn't make any sense.

Unless the girl had done something to him? Maybe she had intensified his ability? Or maybe it was her ability that had intensified.

Either way, here was another piece of the puzzle. He wished he had his notebook with him. Over the days it had become more and more difficult to discern one thought from another on a page as he added more and more scribbles to each page, linking the facts together into a large spiderweb of ideas, theories, and, hopefully, eventually, the truth.

He had entered the entrance way, the large double staircase leading up towards the first floor lit by sparkling fairy lights (literally fairies holding little lights, their bums stuck to the staircase, their high voices twittering to each other in bursts of gossip.) Filch, it appeared had still not managed to remove the little critters since Valentine's Day. Snape cringed inwardly as he remembered, once again, Ginny's kiss.

He thought it was his imagination – obviously too much thinking about someone would make you see them everywhere – but he could have sworn he heard Ginny's voice.

"Professor?"

There it was again. But that was definitely a voice. Ginny was definitely here. His eyes travelled up the staircase, and there, sitting about a third up the way, was Ginny Weasley.

"It's the middle of the night!" Snape said angrily, striding up to Ginny who had not risen from her seat.

"Actually, it's the beginning of the morning," Ginny saw Snape growl, "Sir."

"Think you're real funny, don't you, Miss Weasley?"

"I do try to improve my skills of communication, Professor Snape, whenever I get the chance."

"Five points from Gryffindore," Snape snapped. He was miffed. No, he was really really peeved!

Ginny stared hard at him.

"I apologise, Sir, for my outbreak," she said through grit teeth.

"Why are you out of bed outside of hours?" demanded Snape.

"I would have gone straight to bed, as instructed by a really nice person, but I got a note instructing me to come here and wait for an apparent really nasty person."

"I'm sorry I'm a 'really nasty person,' but it's not as if I didn't warn you! It's not as if I have any sort of choice for the type of person I am!" Snape had snapped. He couldn't stand this-this-this girl! Who was she to speak to him like that? Who was she in the larger scheme of things? What contribution to the fight was she making?

"You're bleeding."

"If you had any idea about what I do, about what I have been made to do! You would not sleep for weeks!"

"I said, you're bleeding."

"I risk my neck for you people! I put my life on hold for the better good!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, SEVERUS – YOU'RE BLOODY WELL BLEEDING!" Ginny's voice rang out in the air. The fairies lining the staircase all stopped chatting to stare at the two people on the staircase; the only two people awake in the castle.

Severus also stopped his ranting. He had lost control. His hair fell wildly around his face. His eyes sparkled with his energy. Persperation fell down the back of his neck. Oh, wait. That wasn't sweat.

" – blood falling all the way down your back," he brought his attention back to Ginny who had now stood and was peering around him to see where the blood originated. "You need to go to Madame Pomfrey."

"I can heal myself, thank you Miss Weasley."

"Right, Sir," Ginny nodded her head but couldn't help rolling her eyes. "So you're going to heal yourself when you can't even see where you're injured?"

"I have my ways," said Snape, although he sounded a little reluctant.

"Maybe, Professor," Ginny said tentatively, "maybe I can help?"

Snape looked at her long and hard. When it came to healing, a fourth year student would be his last choice, but when it came down to it, she was right; in all honesty it would be difficult to fix the gaping wound in the back of his head without messing it up a bit. And he didn't want to go to Madame Pomfrey – she would just tell Dumbledore and the man had more things to worry about than him. Not for the first time, Snape found himself thinking about the book that Dumbledore had referred to.

"Professor?" Ginny's query brought Snape back to the present. Maybe his head had given off too much blood.

"You can help," Snape said with a sigh, but immediately regretted the breathe – his vision swung before him and he took an involuntary step upwards as his body fell forwards.

Forwards onto Ginny.

She swung his momentum around and he landed on his rear end, as if he had been planning on sitting down the whole time. Ginny was slightly out of breath from hauling the professor around, but she had a glimmer of a smile on her face.

"Something funny, Miss Weasley?"

"We tend to do a lot of falling over each other, Sir," Ginny giggled but couldn't hold it in; she started to laugh. Snape stared at her, awed at her ability to see the lighter side of the situation, and also because he couldn't bring himself to do anything more – once again he could feel that pressing power of hers. Although this time, he didn't want it to stop. It was the most soothing thing to his ears; the laughter of a girl. More importantly, the laughter of a girl with him, instead of laughing at him.

Ginny must have caught the look that Snape was giving her because she quickly stifled her giggles.

"Sorry about that, Professor," she was still smiling. "Now, where would you like me to take you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own," Snape attempted to stand up, but he wobbled precariously and found himself instead held up by the sure shoulder of the girl next to him.

"Yes, Sir, I'm certain you're absolutely capable of walking on your own. Just not at this precise moment, am I right?" Ginny asked, as if she were making a general enquiry in class. "So, off to the dungeons then?"

Snape merely grunted; he couldn't get the energy to do any more than that. His head was swimming slightly and his vision was more than a little blurred. He allowed the girl to take most of his weight and to lead him back down the stairs and then into the long passageway that lead to his office in the dungeons. He had his official room there. She could set him up there if she wanted. Looks like his secret room was going to do without him tonight.

In his office, Ginny placed him carefully on his chair and looked at him calculating.

"Sir, are you ok?"

"If I was ok I wouldn't need the help from a teenager, now would I?" Snape drawled – not because he wanted to sound rude, but because his tongue felt like it had no energy to move.

"This teenager is more than willing and capable to do a little bit of healing," sniped Ginny, her arms crossed over her chest in a very motherly fashion. Snape recognised the movement from something that Molly Weasley would do.

"Then get on with it!" Snape tried to sound like his usual brisk self, but once again his words were slightly slurred. He took a few deep breaths and then instructed the girl. "Revival potion – green – in my top drawer. Blood replacement potion – obviously red – right next to it. Scar-repellent cream in the back room cupboard. Marked clearly. Essence of Dittany will be best – rather not have you waving your wand about unnecessarily."

Ginny ran around the room, collecting all that Snape instructed her to and then stood behind the man, her tongue grit between her teeth, as she sifted the oily hair to one side.

"So, er," she began as she cleaned the wound on the back of Snape's head, "do you mind me asking, Sir, why, er, is your hair, er..."

"Always oily?" finished Snape with a grunt when she trailed off.

"Well...I mean...yeah."

Snape's lip curled upwards.

"I take plenty of showers if that's what you're asking," he winced as Ginny swabbed directly at the wound. "I've always had oily hair. Made worse by this dungeon full of fumes from inexperienced potion-makers."

"I may have a remedy for you?" Ginny said tentatively. "It's a shampoo that specialises in slippery skulls. There's a whole range as well from the on-the-go Wizard to the Pamper-me-Perfect Witch."

"Ginevra," Snape drawled. "I have never had much time for 'pampering' myself. Who do I need to look good for in any case?"

Ginny huffed, both at the use of her proper name as well as at the professor's response.

"Yourself of course!" she dabbed a little too hard and Snape let out a hiss of pain. Ginny threw the cotton swab onto the table and picked up the dittany. Two drops later, a smell of burning skin, and the wound had bubbled to the surface and moulded itself closed, turning into a long pink scar.

"I mean I dunno why you keep doing this to yourself. Just 'cause you've done bad things doesn't mean that you're a bad person." Ginny picked up the scar-repellant cream and smeared it over her finger before carefully applying it to the scar. "And think about it – if you ever want forgiveness for your actions, then the first thing you're gonna have to do is forgive yourself!"

Snape turned suddenly, grabbing Ginny's hand. He pulled her close. His face was inches from hers. His eyes glittered with an emotion that Ginny could not place. His teeth ground together, crushing words closed before he could mutter them.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Ginny whispered. "If you want to help me, if you want me to trust you..."

Black looked hard into brown. Snape could feel himself falling. His eyes flitted. His eyelashes drooped. His head slumped forwards and his body went limp.

Ginny was caught unawares, but playing on the quidditch team hadn't been for null; she grasped the professor before he fell off his chair completely and pushed him back into the chair.

Panting slightly, Ginny let go of the man carefully, making sure that he didn't fall. Her eyes were wide in surprise. The man had fainted! She reasoned it must have been the blood loss. She scowled as she looked at the two undrunk potions on the table; revival and blood replacement. He must have known that he would faint, otherwise why the revival potion?

She looked the professor up and down. She didn't care what he said; she would make him take better care of himself if she had to. She took a hesitant step towards the lying man. He had a slight frown covering his forehead and she gently smoothed it out. Her hand lingered on his face.

One more time.

Just one more time.

That was all that she wanted; to feel the nothingness one more time. The more time went by, the less Ginny could control the urges within her. Urges that she didn't understand. She knew that she liked Harry Potter. She had liked him ever since her first year and even more since. But this was becoming ridiculous! Her mind was plagued with memories of the boy that she was certain she didn't know about. She had, at first, thought that they were merely ideas that her fantasizing brain had imagined up, but after reading that article in the Quibbler, Ginny knew now that those things that she had been seeing weren't just thought up scenarios. Those were actual memories. Of a graveyard with death eaters and Harry Potter tied to a gravestone. Those were images of the actual past. But she didn't understand how those memories came to lie within her head. And she definitely didn't like how they played with her heart.

Slowly, afraid to stir the man, Ginny lowered her head. Snape's lips were warm. His breathing shallow. His skin rough. And Ginny loved it. She loved the feel of her hands on his face. The tingle in her stomach as her lips brushed her unconscious companion. She stayed there for a few seconds, waiting. And waiting. For the nothingness. The emptiness. The absolute bliss of her own mind.

But it didn't come.

Ginny forced her lips harder onto Snapes. Again, she felt nothing. She had no feeling of pressure rising. No relief.

Startled by this reaction, as well as her own actions, Ginny hastily stepped away. Had Snape changed? Did he no longer have that same power that he had had the first time? Had Ginny stolen away that power?

Stumbling backwards in horror, Ginny tripped over a chair. The noise echoed through the room. As if afraid of the very noise that she was making, Ginny sprinted towards the door and tore through the corridors of Hogwarts, heading away from everyone. Away from everything. All that she wanted to do was remove her awful presence from those that she could hurt.

Away from Ron and Hermione and Michael and Luna. Away from Harry. Away from Snape.

This was her last choice.

No. This was her only choice.

(A/N: And presto! The next chapter revealed! Eagerly awaiting your thoughts and ideas and replies and anything else you can think of! Thank you to the brilliant people who have already reviewed - your following is what gets me to write! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)