The Match and the Spark

15. Broken Pieces

When Hermione woke up, she was momentarily disorientated, having forgotten why she should be sleeping in her parents' spare bedroom. Then she recalled events of the previous night. She reached for her wand and cast a dim Lumos, glancing warily around the room. She half expected it to be empty, but Snape was still there, in the armchair, and apparently sleeping.

She extinguished her wand and laid her head back on the pillow. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after that rather awkward discussion with him, she'd needed a moment or two in which to think, and clearly she'd been more disposed to sleeping than thinking. What thinking she had done had mostly been about him. Often, she found herself inwardly marvelling over the things she dared say to him. She'd never have dreamed of speaking to him in such forthright terms, but there was just something about him that managed to rile her up at times. And he'd frightened her with talk of… She didn't even want to think it.

No one had ever spoken to her like that before—she'd never known anyone in the state of mind he was. How could she know if she was saying the right things? She could only say what she felt. She had to wonder if she was the only person he had said such things to in recent times, and it was a responsibility that she was not sure she was equal to. She would not blab all that he had said to another, but in the long run, was that for the best?

He was clearly very troubled by guilt, and she hoped that one day he could learn to live with it, because she knew he would likely never forget it.

It was nearing six o'clock in the morning and Hermione decided she should sneak out and perform her ablutions, before her parents rose to get ready for work. Sneaking behind her parents' back was not an ideal situation. They knew she was working hard to help Ron, but she was unsure how they would react to her brush with a firearm-wielding detective. Actually, she knew exactly how they would react, and that was why she moved silently about the upstairs landing in the dark.

As she brushed her teeth in the bathroom, her thoughts returned to the events of yesterday, wondering what on earth they would do about Oakshott. How long had Selwyn had Oakshott under his command? Had he been part of the faking of Selwyn's death? And would Selwyn really expect them to back off after yesterday's performance? She was fairly sure he would not expect them to be easily cowed. Nevertheless, it was still a warning to be heeded, and they would have to modify their next movements in accordance with it.

Once dressed, Hermione returned quietly to the bedroom, but Snape was awake when she entered. She found it hard to look at him. Instead, she smiled awkwardly and then set about tidying the evidence of their presence away.

'How is your arm?' she asked, when she had plucked up enough courage.

'Fine,' he grunted. 'But it will be even better when I get home.'

'Yes… of course.' When she did chance a look at him, he looked grim, and preoccupied. 'You know, I would understand if you would rather not be a part of this anymore. I mean, you could have been badly hurt yesterday…'

But he doesn't care about living. The thought echoed around her head almost sickeningly loud. Was this why he had agreed to help her, after all, because he actually had a death wish? She hoped she was merely exaggerating things in her mind, but still, it would remain stubbornly in the back of her mind.

He didn't say anything, just gave her a look that indicated he had no truck with any of her words. She'd rather thought he wouldn't, and she wondered once again to the extent that he might have a personal wish for vengeance against Selwyn.

'Very well,' she said. 'What would you like to do next?'

'Home,' he said. 'You may come if you wish as I suppose we must discuss what next.'

Finding no reason to argue with that plan, Hermione Apparated them from her house to the outside of his. The street was dark and empty as they stood on the doorstep. He opened the door and lit a few candles in the living room. Not for the first time, she noticed the electricity switch on the wall and wondered why he did not use it.

'I will return momentarily; touch anything and I'll know about it.'

Her mouth fell open indignantly, but he'd disappeared up the stairs before she could say anything. Determined not to give him any reason for accusing her of anything, she kept her hands and eyes mostly to herself. She did conjure her Patronus to take a message to Grimmauld Place. Merlin only knew what Harry and Ginny must be thinking at her disappearing act, but she did not tell them yet of her suppositions. The last thing she wanted was to give false hope, when potentially there might not be any.

She was idly staring at her hands, awaiting his return, when a sharp knock on the front door startled her. She snapped her head towards the sound, holding her wand tightly, while getting to her feet and edging towards the door Snape had disappeared through. The front door knocked again.

Snape himself soon came flying down the stairs, his wand pointed at the door.

'Who on earth would it be at this time?' she whispered.

'Snape,' a voiced hissed through the door, 'I know you're back. It's Thomas, Inspector Oakshott's sergeant, I need to speak with you urgently.'

Hermione looked at Snape in surprise. Was it to be about Oakshott?

'Listen,' Snape said in low voice, turning to her. 'As soon as I open the door I will Stun him. You shall levitate his body inside.'

Hermione nodded and followed behind him to the door. Thomas barely had time to register the opening of the door before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the doorstep. Hermione lifted the body into the air with her wand and quickly manoeuvred him inside, while Snape shut the door swiftly.

She placed Thomas onto the mat in front of the fireplace and knelt down to check him for spells, most especially, signs of Imperio, but there were none. Snape also got to his knees, but instead, he began rifling through Thomas's pockets. He took out a wallet and handed it her. The warrant card inside indicated that he was Sergeant George Thomas of the London Metropolitan Police, but Hermione had to wonder again at the legitimacy of such a claim, especially when Snape removed a gun from Thomas's person.

She watched him look it over and comment, 'That'll do nicely,' under his breath, before shrinking down the weapon and Banishing it to some unknown location.

'Should you—' she began to say, but he swiftly spoke over her.

'Let's wake our friend up.' He seemed oddly animated at the intrusion they had received.

She joined him by getting to her feet, and he aimed an Ennervate at the Muggle on his carpet. Thomas jerked blearily awake and looked around frantically. 'What the hell?' he exclaimed loudly, struggling to his feet.

'Sit down, Sergeant; I'm afraid our treatment of you may have resulted in a bump to the head.' Snape smiled.

Hermione also retreated to a chair, feeling that it was unlikely she would be needed in the ensuing interrogation Snape so obviously planned to give. Thomas looked deeply unsettled, as if already regretting his decision to come here, but he did sit down.

Snape stood, staring down his nose at him. 'You said you knew I was back—how?' he demanded quietly.

'Oh,' said Thomas, 'no reason, just the light was on, or candles, rather…'

Snape shook his head. 'No, that will not do. Have you been watching my comings and goings?'

Thomas shot to his feet. 'Now, look, Snape—'

'I will ask you again, Thomas. Have you been watching my comings and goings?'

Hermione, meanwhile, was having unpleasant flashbacks to Potions lessons at Hogwarts. How often had she sat in his classroom, hardly daring to even breathe as he prowled about looking for someone to hiss at? Had he been wearing his robes of old, the picture before her would have been nearly complete.

Thomas's small, 'Yes,' surprised her, however, and she sat up, hardly knowing how Snape would react.

'I see, I see.' Snape rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and paced up and down for a moment. 'I, ah, don't know if you've noticed,' he continued, with a clipped laugh, 'but I am not someone who can take to such a thing kindly.' His wand flashed into his hand and he jabbed it into Thomas's chest. 'You see?' he snarled.

'Now, see here, Snape…' Thomas hurriedly reached inside his coat, but paused when he evidently did not find what he was looking for.

'Oh, are you looking for your gun? Sorry… Had to get rid of it.'

Hermione noticed that, to his credit, the detective drew himself up, even at the realisation that he was at the disadvantage. She did not think Snape would hurt him, but she was unsure as to whether she should say something and intervene.

'I am not always a reasonable man, Thomas, which, if you've done your homework correctly, you will probably already know. So, when I say sit down and tell me exactly how you've been watching me, I mean it.'

Thomas nodded minutely, and Snape removed his wand. Hermione rather thought their visitor almost collapsed into his chair, but he did not prevaricate.

'Across the road, number twenty-five,' said he.

Hermione looked at Snape in surprise. Was that the curtain-twitcher she had spotted before?

'We've been watching as many of the Death Eaters, or their families in most cases, as we can. We were watching you because we were not entirely convinced of your motives. As one of the few Death Eaters to escape punishment, we wanted to be certain you would not lead us to those we were hunting.'

Snape looked fairly furious and Hermione feared for a moment that he would not master himself, but he clenched his fist and visibly breathed deeply.

'We've not infiltrated your house—not bugged it, and so on…'

Hermione noticed a flash of confusion spark across Snape's face momentarily, but he clearly caught the gist of Thomas's meaning through the mention of the concept of infiltration.

'Are you really from the police, or something more?' Snape asked suddenly.

'The police, of course—'

Hermione decided to speak up. 'Do you think we really believe that the Muggle police are sent to deal with issues of magic? It would have to be nothing less than top-secret. You carry guns; you seemingly have undertaken a huge surveillance operation; you know too much about matters of the Wizarding world…'

Thomas's expression was neutral. 'If you choose to doubt me, then that is your prerogative. If I were from the secret service, I am hardly likely to admit it, am I?'

'Admit it? No…'

There was a quality to Snape's voice that made Hermione look at him. Was he considering forcing the information from him? She was not endeared to that course of action, but when he caught her glance, he shook his head negatively. She was relieved; while they would like to understand more of the participation of the Muggles, forcing one to reveal secrets and then Obliviating them could get them into huge trouble, and that was without even considering the ethics of it.

'Well, what have you come to say?'

'It's about Inspector Oakshott—he's gone missing.'

'Oh, we know,' said Snape conversationally. 'He took a chunk out of me only yesterday, in fact.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'He fired a gun at me,' stated Snape slowly and crisply.

'I don't understand… Why would he do such a thing? Where is he?'

Hermione had to wonder at this point whether Thomas was aware that Selwyn was alive. If he wasn't, it might be in their interest not to apprise him of such matters. Snape appeared to feel the same, for he did not answer Thomas's questions directly.

'Tell us first how he came to be missing.'

Thomas looked between the two of them speculatively. 'Look, I'll tell you something that isn't widely known. Oakshott knows a good deal about your… world. He's… Do you call them Squibs?'

Hermione was not unduly shocked. They'd considered the possibility before, but had never had concrete reason to suppose Oakshott was a Squib.

Thomas continued. 'He was very set on making sure any witch or wizard who had brought a crime against us… Muggles… was caught. Anyway, after Selwyn was killed, he said he wanted to go to Selwyn's home and tie up a few loose ends. I went to contact the Aurors about what had happened with Selwyn, but when I returned to pick up Oakshott from the house, he wasn't there, and he hasn't been heard from, or seen since. But you say you've seen him—where?'

'Things have become rather dangerous,' began Hermione diplomatically. 'There is magic involved here, and with respect, I think you should leave it in our hands.'

'Miss Granger is right—there is nothing you can do at this time.'

Thomas surveyed them critically. 'Magic? What has been done to him?'

'Nothing that cannot be undone.'

The detective looked unconvinced, but eventually relented. 'Very well, I understand. In any case, it is more than what your Aurors were willing to give. They said it was nothing to do with them. I will give you a number to contact me on—'

'Can't we just pop across the road?' asked Hermione sardonically.

'Ah, no… I will put a halt to any more surveillance of your house, Snape.'

'I do not fully trust that you will, but there you go. I have my own ways and means.'

Thomas paused uncomfortably. 'Indeed,' he murmured quietly, giving them his card and standing to leave. After he'd gone, they both sat in silence for some time. Hermione was thinking how important it was that they track down Selwyn and his now sidekick Oakshott as soon as possible. Would they have remained at Thistledown cottage? Maybe, but more likely not.

Their best chance had been yesterday, but she did not regret that they had run from it. They had not expected to be… ambushed, in any way, and they truly had placed themselves at a disadvantage.

'What did you make of that?' she asked eventually when the silence had elongated beyond what was comfortable.

'Tell me, Miss Granger, how do you feel about Muggle interference in the workings of the Wizarding world? You grew up in the Muggle world, but you've now spent as much time in the Wizarding world—do you fear that the lines between the two are increasingly blurry as time goes on?'

She was rather surprised by his question, and she had to think for a moment. 'If you'd asked me whether I fear co-operation, then I would say no. But you said interference… I… Isn't fear rather too strong a word, though?'

'Is it?' He raised an eyebrow. 'In the first place, the concept that there be two separate worlds is flawed. Yes, we have separate cultures and values and politics, but we all live in the same place—the same country. I live in a predominantly Muggle area—does that mean I live in the Muggle world?'

'Not necessarily.'

He nodded. 'Quite; but the point is, these so-called worlds are interchangeable. I may not pay tax to the Muggle state, but I live amongst Muggles. I might go to the Muggle shop on the corner. I could have walked into a Muggle hospital last night and had my arm treated with barely no questions asked. I could go on…'

'I'm not sure I see the point you're driving at, though.'

'Miss Granger, do you not think that someone, someday, will have the idea that there should only be one world? How easy would it be for the Wizarding world to be subsumed by the Muggle state? In some ways it may even make sense; in others, maybe not…'

Hermione felt her eyes widen. 'That is surely a bit extreme?'

He shrugged. 'It seems to me the Ministry has already entrusted certain matters to the Muggles. Dependency is a dangerous thing. Would you fear that?'

'Well… yes. I would like to think it would work in theory, but, in practice, I highly doubt it.'

'Do not misunderstand me, I am not convinced the scenario I have suggested would ever come to pass, but just the potential is dangerous in itself—'

'Of course it is—in so many ways.'

'You see, we have Oakshott, who we now know to be a Squib, and who is working, let us assume, high up in the Muggle government. As much as I dislike the man, the situation he is in now is very serious.'

'You're right—if Selwyn kills him, it will certainly ruffle the feathers of the Muggles… But surely this is a bigger responsibility than we can bear?'

'Says the girl who took on the responsibility to help defeat the worst megalomaniac there's ever been?' he asked dryly.

Hermione unexpectedly flushed. She was not someone prone to modesty, but she felt oddly embarrassed now.

He took pity on her. 'You're right, though—it is not our responsibility to manage relations between Muggle and Magical peoples. But we know what is going on, Miss Granger, and that is our responsibility. Do we inform the Ministry of all that we know? Or do we carry on and come what may?'

'I…' She clasped her hands together and sighed. 'I don't know.'

He was right to bring up the point. They could have continued outside of the Ministry when it was only Selwyn, but now there was another involved. They knew what was happening, and surely they owed it to Oakshott to ensure that all effort was made to save him from Selwyn's clutches. It would mean revealing to the Ministry that they knew Selwyn had faked his death, and Hermione knew deep down that they would not believe them.

'Look, it's simple—we'll have to tell someone. Even if it means the Aurors wading in with their size nines and buggering up any chance we have of getting at Selwyn, it's the right thing to do.' She looked at her watch. 'Kinglsey should be at the Ministry now, and he's the only one likely to give me the time of day. I will go straight away—the sooner the better.'

'Very well,' he said with an air of distraction she realised she was becoming used to associating with him.

She would not ask him to come with her; she knew he would rather avoid the Ministry at all costs, but they needed to do something. In fact, she was rather ashamed that she hadn't thought to raise the alarm last night. But she would do it now, and that would have to be enough.

Only an hour later and Hermione was ready to tear her hair out. Kingsley had listened sympathetically at first, but she had seen his expression darken when she had begun talking of Muggle detectives and faked deaths. It was hard not to blame him, considering she was sitting there with hardly a shred of evidence to back-up her story. But to his credit, when she had explained it for the umpteenth time, he finally began to look like he would at least consider her version of events. After all, they had very real evidence that Snape had been shot at by Oakshott, and that was surely worth investigating in itself.

Kinglsey left her to speak to the Head of the Aurors, but when he returned to his office, his face told the story. They refused to believe Selwyn was not dead. The story about Arthur Selwyn was 'flights of fancy.'

'For what it's worth, Hermione, I believe what you are telling me is possible…'

But they had no proof.

'Send some Aurors to Thistledown cottage, then, won't you? Just to check,' she urged. 'Oakshott was there, and he was definitely under the influence of Imperio.'

He told her he was to be dispatched to go himself, but with the instruction to only search for sign of Oakshott. Hermione appreciated that much at least. It was a difficult situation to judge, she knew. For her own part, she was rather relieved there would not be a large Ministry presence to frighten Selwyn into retreating out of sight, and yet, there was Oakshott to consider. How would the Muggles react to finding out that the Aurors had more or less willingly just left one of their agents to the mercy of one of the most dangerous men in the country?

It could turn out to be a much bigger mess than it already was.

She returned to Spinner's End and relayed her experience to Snape. 'I don't know whether I could have done more. I am actually quite worried about Oakshott now. I know he has not been particularly nice to us, but he does not deserve to be in the clutches of a ruthless man like Selwyn.'

Snape did not indicate any surprise that she had not got on entirely well at the Ministry, but he muttered something about 'having done all they could.' She had not been gone for very long, but his mood seemed to have deteriorated further in the intervening time.

In fact, in hindsight, what followed turned out to be one of the most surprising exchanges she'd had with him so far, and admittedly, that was rather saying something.

He had received a package during her absence, and he jerked his head towards where it sat on a table. Hermione approached it tentatively, wondering if it was to be something unpleasant, but reaching inside the envelope, she found only two small phials. Picking up the accompanying note, she discovered it was from Professor McGonagall.

They were phials of Invisibility potion. The Headmistress wrote that she had commissioned Professor Slughorn to complete the brew they had started themselves, feeling that if they'd needed it before, they might need it again. Hermione clutched the phials and looked at Snape carefully. What was his problem? She found herself smiling widely, indescribably grateful to the Headmistress and her Potions master. 'This is wonderful! What foresight she has! When I have chance, I will visit Hogwarts. I feel rather guilty for the way we left the castle last time, without even telling anyone we were going.'

His eyebrows were drawn into a frown and he looked irritable. Feeling slightly impatient, she steered the conversation back to the topic at hand.

'We can get into the Selwyn home or Thistledown undetected now… It's just what we need.' She rubbed her hands together almost eagerly.

'It will be useful, indeed,' he said, markedly unenthused.

'I want to use it to get into Selwyn's house in Cumbria. I think having a look around his mother's bedroom might prove useful. We need any sign that points to Arthur Selwyn surviving—'

'Miss Granger,' he interrupted swiftly, 'you will not be using it—I will.'

She blinked. 'I'm sorry? There's enough for more than one dose.'

'It is too dangerous. We do not know who else Selwyn might have recruited to aim pot-shots at unwanted visitors, and may I remind you that invisibility does not equate invincibility? It is decided.'

'Hang on, it is certainly not decided. I don't care how dangerous it is, I want to do this.'

'We cannot both take the potion at the same time, the logistics of which are too fraught with pitfalls to contemplate.'

'Fine—you can wait outside.' If she hadn't been deadly serious, the look on his face might have caused her to laugh out loud. Clearly, Severus Snape was not accustomed to waiting outside.

'You can wait outside.'

'I have been in danger before, you know. I would like to know just what it is that makes you think you are more equipped to deal with difficult situations? Is it because you are a man? Do you think I am less capable—that I can't possibly cope—because I am female? Or maybe it's because I am younger? Do you think I am a clueless child? I'll have you know—'

'All right, all right!' He looked at her with annoyed eyes. 'Merlin, call off your dogs! I was merely making a suggestion, not searching for a pointless debate on the struggles of feminism!'

Hermione inwardly softened. Truth be told, she was rather more concerned with his own desire to run into danger, and after what he'd said last night about death, she was quite convinced it was a desire. She'd much prefer to believe he was a part-time chauvinist.

'Look, I'll do Cumbria, and then you can do Thistledown. That's fair.'

The expression on his face suggested he begged to differ, but Hermione knew she would not be swayed. 'You said yourself it is impractical for us both to be invisible at the same time. I know a charm we can use to communicate if either of us falls into trouble.'

She was thinking of the Protean charm she had used during the time of Dumbledore's Army. She was about to elaborate, when she saw that his expression was one of evident distaste. He looked purposefully away from her, as if even just the sight of her was somehow offensive to him.

'What?' she enquired involuntarily, much surprised. What could she have possible done wrong now?

'Nothing,' he muttered, but his voice was cross.

She stared at him with wide eyes, piqued by his manner. 'No, clearly you have a problem.'

'Do not presume to know what I am thinking; I have no problem.'

Once upon a time, the hostile look he was giving her would have caused to her retreat, but she knew now that she did not have to back down. Even if it did seem foolish to risk his wrath, which appeared to be simmering away ominously under the surface. 'I do not need to presume anything,' she ventured. 'It is written all over your face.'

She felt the tension close around her as he only stared, and disliking that he was making her feel both uncomfortable and slightly defensive, she spoke hurriedly. 'I fail to see what there is for you to take offence at. You know I am trying to help Ron and that I am prepared to do anything within my power to achieve it. Even Oakshott we must help now. I want to get into Selwyn's house—I want to find him. No amount of danger is going to dissuade me from doing what I feel is best. I have to continue with this myself. You've had no problem with this before, I—'

He flew to his feet with a low groan of frustration. 'You!' he said swiftly. 'It is you who is my problem!'

Hermione watched, suddenly aghast, as he paced before her, alternately gesturing and throwing her hard glares as he spoke. 'I cannot stand to hear another word about Weasley, about Selwyn, about what he deserves, or about what is right. That is the worst of it! I cannot take another moment of your never-ending righteousness!' He roughly shoved a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. 'Your irrepressible nobility I find debilitating… and sickening, and it makes me feel—'

He cut himself off abruptly with a loud angry breath, his movements also ceasing. He faced the fireplace and Hermione stared at the back of him, hardly daring to breathe. She could barely grasp what he'd just thrown at her, but what she did gather, she deemed unfair. It was unfair of him to turn on her so quickly, and over what, exactly? Her principles?

He rubbed a hand viciously over his mouth and then threw himself into his chair. The hand then went to his eyes, which were closed defiantly.

Hermione forced herself to swallow against the dryness of her throat and speak. 'Is that… Is that how you really see me?'

She'd no idea that he viewed her in such a light. And, in some way, she supposed from anyone else it would be a compliment that they believed her to be a person who tried to be, for a lack of a better word, good. After all, just what was wrong with being a… good person? But he'd made it sound like the worst thing in the world.

Not a word he would say, nor any sign of acknowledgement would he give. He simply sat there, slowly rubbing his brow as if nursing a particularly bad headache.

'I think you are being unfair,' she said quietly. 'I have never set myself as anything other than what I am. I don't profess myself to be perfect. I have faults, just like anyone. I am by turns, impatient, forthright, and bossy, and numerous other things, I don't doubt, but I am sorry if my having a… sense of decency, and a set of morals to which I like to adhere to is abhorrent to you. I had not considered I was being unbearably pious in any way.'

It was true. She was not someone who preached about codes of behaviour—who expected everyone to follow her own example! And righteous? She'd never considered herself to be any more honourable than the next person.

It was partly anger that made her add her next words. 'Indeed, I rather thought I was only behaving as any person would—as any good friend would.'

He stilled, but she did not wait around to see if he would deign to reply, knowing that it was probably best that she leave. She snatched up the phials of potion and walked quietly out of the house. She was halfway down the street before she allowed herself to pause and think. What on earth had just happened? She turned and looked back to the house with a feeling of incalculable disappointment.

Afraid that he might come after her, she hurried around the corner, out of sight. Inwardly, she laughed at herself. He would not be coming after her. She sucked in a steadying breath of air and fumbled with tying her scarf around her neck. What had disposed him to be in such an awful mood? He had seemed fine this morning.

Was it true? Was it really her that set his blood to boil, and now he was not able to take it any more? And all over something so unbelievable as her character? Or was it something else that had conspired to upset him?

She knew she would not be able to fathom it. She accepted she'd probably annoyed him very much with her views, especially in those moments when he had spoken frankly about his own and she had disagreed with them. She knew he had particular ideas about himself, about his character, and was that where the conflict lay?

Regardless, she had not known she could ignite such disgust.

In hindsight, she should have expected something of the sort. That she was inadequate when it came to deciphering the nuances of his personality was not a surprise. He had said she did not understand him and he was right. Never was a truer word spoken, she realised. She'd tried, certainly, and thought she'd got it right, but it was obvious now how wide of the mark she'd been. She'd been mistaken to ever attempt to fathom what should drive a man who had led such a life—a life so very different to her own.

She'd not make the same mistake again, she knew that much.

Gathering her wits about her, Hermione Disapparated. From the cover of a copse of trees, she looked up at the large seat of the Selwyn family. In the context of what had just happened, she knew her decision to come here was impulsive. She leant against a tree trunk and closed her eyes. Here was the irony that, after all that had happened, she was now back where she had started—alone on her quest.

It would be stupid of her not to inform someone of her whereabouts. She was fairly sure the house would be empty, but she'd been through enough in her lifetime to know taking chances did not always pay off. Snape knew of her plans, but she did not want him any more involved than he wanted to be, and right now, it seemed he wanted to be involved not at all.

She would send a Patronus message to Harry. He would not react well to it, she knew, but it was all she could do. She could not afford to waste time where finding Selwyn was concerned.

Hermione watched her Patronus scamper away, and then she tugged out the stopper in the phial she held. She had estimated she had about an hour before the potion would fail—ample time, she was sure. Well, it would have to be.

Snape's voice echoed darkly around her mind as she drank the potion, and she wished suddenly that the last hour had not happened. She wished she could understand his sudden rage at her. She wished she could know what it all meant.

But however confused she was, she had to forget it. Closing her mind to her doubts, she set off up to the house. She'd come too far—come too close to Selwyn to abandon it all now. She needed to remember that none of this was about herself, or Professor Snape, or anyone else—it was about Ron.

Everything else could be dealt with in its own time.