Beyond Enduring

by DarkNesse2016

In the immediate aftermath of the war with Voldemort, Harry is able to revive Snape, but for what future? Perhaps a new colleauge can help the despondent Potions Master see more than a little promise in the years ahead. Or perhaps he will remain solitary and standoffish, ruining his own chance for happiness.

24. Chapter 24: New Year

Happy New Year, readers. It's been difficult to find time to keep writing. It's been a difficult time. Trying to keep looking forward. Writing helps, but only so much. I hope this brings you some enjoyment. I hope you find the time to offer a review or comment. I have more written to follow this, I just need to sew the seams together and make sure everything matches up. There's a lot going on at Hogwarts, too. Dark times. Enjoy and let me know what you think. DN

The full onslaught of winter arrived in January. Winds from the north drove snow up past the windows of the ground floor and darkened even more so the dungeons, blotting out what little light might trickle down through high windows. The upper floors enjoyed more light from the reflections off the unbroken drifts, blinding when it was sunny, though that was rare. Heavy clouds obscured the skies more often than not, making already-short days seem even shorter.

Quidditch matches were nearly cancelled, but Madame Hooch persisted, despite all of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Beaters needing treatment for frostbite. Madame Pomfrey made it her business to be on hand at every match and even some practices to administer treatment as quickly as possible, though stores of Boronitride paste were beginning to run low. Given the mineral nature of the thermal paste and the Potions Mistress's skills with mineral-based formulae, Poppy decided to ask Dr. Hunter to make the next batch. Professor Snape seemed unusually busy these days already, rarely coming out from his labs except to teach since the beginning of the year.

The time off had been good for the students, offering yet another chance to further discover their new normal following the horrors of the previous years. Families had taken great joy in their reunions with loved ones, feeling more acutely than ever the value of love, kinship, and friendship bonds. Now back at school, students were ready to get back to the pleasant rhythms of meals, classes, homework, and friends. The end of school days was still far enough off to be comfortably ignored for the time being by the 7th and 8th years, but the deadlines for university application scrolls were coming soon, including teacher recommendations. Those could not be ignored.

Harry had found himself enjoying the holidays more than he had predicted. Despite the full house at the Burrow, with everyone there, he had managed to have a few days of quiet when Ron and Hermione had gone out on walks together and Ginny was arguing with George about the national Quidditch teams. Fred's absence was gaping hole for everyone, but Mrs. Weasley's joy at having her family together again, and having that joy extended to himself, made Harry grateful that his godfather had been categorical about his coming here. Though it was difficult to wrap his brain around the notion, Snape may have been right about going to the Burrow for the holidays. Though the Weasleys welcomed him as their son, they seemed to sense the healing value of his having time on his own. Had he been at school, he would have had no one to spend time with when he was ready for that, not to mention the guilt and the need to explain to disappointed friends. Persistent friends who never gave up on things.

And Ginny. Snape was probably right about Ginny, too, which surprised him even more. Strange to get what might be good advice on relationships from someone so demonstrably bad at them. Maybe his relationship with Ginny wouldn't last forever, maybe she would get tired of him and figure out that Neville really was the better man. Or perhaps Cormac McLaggen. Terry Boot. Michael Corner. The list really could get quite long. But for now, he was taken in by her kindness and strength and her understanding about being alone sometimes. Perhaps her never having had a moment's peace her entire life made her sympathetic to those who could use a break from the chaos. He tried to give her all the space she needed, as well, leaving her be and not teasing about how much time she, Hermione, Luna and the other girls spent in their dorms away from the common room.

Hunter returned from London several days in advance of the start of classes, on a similar schedule as the rest of the staff. She planned to fill her days with grading, writing up student reports, and preparing for the spring term ahead. This helped her avoid thinking too much about Severus, at least until the evenings when she set aside her work and went up to dinner. She knew he had returned, as indicated by flickering light under the door to his lab, but she never saw him out and about.

She'd been hopeful in accepting Parse's invitation to spend the holiday in London at first, supposing it would be a much-needed diversion to stave off her loneliness. And indeed, at first, it was. Her room at the Copper Cauldron Inn had been warm and welcoming, with a lovely view of Diagon Alley and all the shop windows, decorated with magical toys, glittering clothes, sweets and chocolates, and sparkling jewels, all accompanied by a different recreation of a winter snowstorm. The witches and wizards in the street were dressed in holiday robes trimmed in pine cones, holly leaves, feathers, and fur, some of which was still living and enjoying the views as much as the wearers. The children, including so many too young for Hogwarts, squealed and pointed to the toys they wanted most. A training broom; boomerang balls; dollies that changed outfits with a wave of a junior wand (some assembly required); dollhouses outfitted with crystal balls, cauldrons, and magical gardens; stuffed dragons that spit real fire; models of hippogriffs; and books about famous witch and wizard adventures. Watching the happy families made her ache to join them. She suddenly began to feel old, that the years were passing her by. Her future was empty, yet again. She didn't see anyone she knew, and remained at the window until the shops began to close and everyone went home.

Parse had been an altogether too-attentive host, having a dinner or drinks planned for each of the five nights she was there, always with someone important, many of whom she'd met previously. The Minister for Justice Bruna Fresenius and her family, the Minister for Magical Sport and Games, Deputy Minister for Education Alexander (who glared at her and Parse in stony silence the entire meal), or the Deputy Assistant to the Minister of Magic Percy somebody, who told stories about the challenges of international magical cooperation in exhausting detail for nearly two hours. Parse had dropped hints to the Deputy Assistant that she might be a useful addition to the Department of Potions and Poisons, despite her never having expressed an iota of interest in a ministry job. She smiled broadly and asked a few follow-up questions, once it occurred to her that at the end of the year, she might need a job, any job, and she would be unwise to burn any bridges at this point. The effort required to appear reasonably cheerful and interested was exhausting and not at all what she had hoped for over the holiday break.

It was the time after the dinners and receptions made her most uncomfortable. Winder invariably offered to walk her back to the inn, casting aside her protestations that she was fine to get back on her own. Then he seemed unwilling to let her go upstairs to her room, waving for drinks in the tavern in the lobby before she could depart. Although she made it clear she was tired and ready to end the evening, he would order a second round. Finally, courteous or not, she excused herself and all but fled up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room. After waving her wand and bringing up the blaze in the fireplace, she'd collapse in the overstuffed armchair. But once decompressed, the loneliness and uncertainty of her future overcame her. She'd spend the remainder of her waking time rethinking what had happened, lamenting the present, and foreboding the times to come.

Once she got back to the school, what would things be like? It was an acrimonious break, not simply an agreement to step away. Accusations and betrayal that still stung. It wouldn't be like before their evening in the forest, with cordial professionalism. It would surely be cold and stiff. She could handle that for the most part, needing little guidance for her daily teaching. What advice she needed, she could easily get from McGonagall or the other staff members. She tended not to get involved in detailed school issues, knowing that her time was short.

But their research collaboration, what would become of that? Their fall work was finished, the papers written and sent. Perhaps there would be notices of acceptance upon her return. With that work fully finished, would he care to continue their collaboration, or would she be working on her own?

Now the thought of digging through endless arrays of potions with minor variations left her cold. All she could picture was getting out of those dungeons as much as possible, not spending more time there. And what was the point, anyway? Suddenly, the prospect of more research and testing seemed absurd. The students would probably be relieved to get their time back, especially once N.E.W.T.s started to get closer after the spring holiday in April. Yes, it was probably better for everyone if she set aside research for this term. Four publications were sufficient. Who was going to read them, anyway?

Now back at Hogwarts, she was glad that she'd already put together her lesson plan for the spring term at the beginning of the year. Getting through grading the exams was more than enough for her; writing up the reports for McGonagall, exhausting. Once she'd finished, the Friday before the resumption of classes, she began to consider having the former research volunteers help with some of her teaching. The younger students were doing well and it would be good experience for her researchers, she reasoned.

Ginny cast a furtive glance at the staff table in late February as she chewed contemplatively on her pork chop. Neville, sitting next to her, shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

"What are you staring at, Ginny?" he whispered out of the side of his mouth. "It's getting a bit obvious, if you're trying to be subtle." He kept his voice low, but couldn't keep the curiosity out of it.

Ginny returned her attention to the plate in front of her, taking a forkful of cauliflower before responding. "I was just trying to think of the last time I saw Professor Snape outside the classroom. He rarely misses a chance to glare at people."

Neville looked thoughtful, then concerned. "You're right. McGonagall makes all the school announcements now. He hasn't growled at us about N.E.W.T.s even once since we got back, though her lectures about how important they are is motivating enough." He took another bite of noodles, then continued. "But with her, it seems less likely that she'd use you to test a batch of poison if you made the school look bad by reaching 'less than your full potential.'"

Harry grinned at Neville's growling impression of Snape issuing one of his characteristic threats about doing poorly on exams and mulled over the thought of his lack of forcefulness silently as he took another bite of pork. Despite what challenges holding two positions had meant, Snape had always been both a dedicated teacher and Headmaster. Dumbledore as Headmaster had given up teaching and being a Head of House, but Snape retained both, though he now split teaching potions with Dr. Hunter. That must have been a difficult concession for him to have made, Harry realized. And with the recovery of the school after the war, there must be plenty going on that required his attention. Maybe he had, in fact, bitten off more than even he could chew, Harry thought. His research had ceased and Legilimency and Occlumency lessons had not resumed in the new year. And now McGonagall, also a Head of House and teacher, was taking on more as Deputy Headmistress.

Once back at the Gryffindor common room, they gathered around the fireplace, one of the few cozy places in the tower. Ron pulled Harry aside before they sat down, his brow furrowed.

"I think she's mad at me, but I can't figure out why. I got her flowers AND chocolate frogs for Valentine's day without even needing to be reminded. Even wrapped 'em. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten the first one, but she laughed at the time. And she's seemed fine until tonight. I can't figure it out. Any ideas, Harry? Ginny say anything to you?" He looked more anxious than Harry could recall at any time this year, even when he was struggling to balance his work cataloguing the new books in the library with Madame Pince (still) and studying for end-of-term exams.

Harry stole a furtive glance at Hermione, then turned back to Ron and shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't think it's you, Ron. It's something else. Let's just ask." Ron looked appalled at this idea, and followed Harry, being careful to stand behind him in case Hermione was ready to draw her wand.

Harry approached slowly but deliberately, seating himself on the sofa beside her. "Something wrong, Hermione? You seem really quiet tonight." Ron quivered slightly, still standing, a bit behind Harry, which amused him. Hermione was a skilled witch, but Ron had faced down the Dark Lord and fought bravely in the war. Habits of thinking are difficult to break, he reasoned.

Hermione remained sitting, looking intently into the fire, her elbows on her knees, hands clasped. Then she turned. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I'm really worried about Professor Snape."

Harry turned to look at Ron, whose eyebrows were raised.

She frowned and looked back to the fire as though expecting some response from it. "I knew you'd both think I'm being strange."

"No," protested Harry, leaning in next to her. "Tell me what you're thinking."

She kept her eyes on the fire, but spoke volumes with her hands. "Look at what's happened since he and Dr. Hunter had their falling out before Christmas. He spent the holiday here at Hogwarts alone and has barely been seen out of the dungeons since. In class, I'd swear he's spent so much time down there, he's even paler than he was before." She began to count points out on her fingers. "He doesn't seem to care about teaching much. He doesn't lecture or berate anyone who fouls up in class and he hasn't given a single detention since Janiss's and it's been six weeks since the beginning of term. He has McGonagall do all the Headmaster duties. Has he done even one thing more than the bare minimum this term?"

Harry shifted on the sofa and nodded contemplatively. Everything she noted was true. He'd pestered them more about N.E.W.T.s in six days in December, and he hadn't mentioned them at all in six weeks since the new year.

Ron considered mentioning how pleased he was not to be constantly harangued, but at the last second, thought the better of it, closed his open mouth, and remained in silent agreement.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville wandered in and joined the group, pulling up well-worn chairs, concern on their faces reflecting the seriousness of the mood there.

"What's up?" Ginny asked.

"Hermione's worried about Snape," Ron noted, finding himself now brave enough to sit on Hermione's other side, given the larger group that was forming.

Luna nodded with no sense of surprise. "Me, too," she said. "It's like he doesn't care anymore. No matter what you might say about his teaching style, at least he seemed to care about us doing well. Whether it was for our betterment or his maintaining a reputation as an effective teacher, that wasn't always clear, but at least he pushed us."

Ginny leaned forward. "Yeah, and we haven't even had a lesson in Occlumency and Legilimency since last term. I'm not buying his claim that there's not a N.E.W.T. for that and it leaves us more time to study for the other N.E.W.T.s. Since when has he cared if we had too much homework?"

Ron grimaced. "Blimey, I'd almost forgotten about that. Ten lessons last term just gave us a taste."

Luna added "That was starting to be my favorite class. What a cool skill."

They all sighed collectively, remembering how interesting and challenging the lessons had been, a true departure from the other subjects which had become somewhat routine over the years.

After a few moments with the only sound being the crackle of the flames in the fireplace, Neville spoke. "When someone stops caring about things that they used to spend all their time doing and withdraws from everyone else, those are warning signs."

"Warning signs of what?" Ron asked.

Harry knew before Neville replied what he was going to say, and not due to using Legilimency.

"Suicide." Everyone in the group drew in a breath, but no one disagreed.

Harry tried hard to balance a tone that expressed both support for Hermione's and Neville's observations paired with a confidence in the Headmaster. "I see what you're saying, but why would someone who's brave enough to take on the Dark Lord as a double agent for years and who survived to tell the tale decide to end it because a love affair went bad?" Once those words left his mouth, it occurred to Harry how deeply a love affair gone bad really could, and did, affect someone like Severus Snape.

"And it wasn't even all that long," Ron added.

Luna spoke up. "When people get depressed, even a temporary setback can seem monumental."

Ginny nodded. "And who knows what else is going on? We think it's just Dr. Hunter, but maybe there's more that we don't know about. We don't know why they broke up. It might be something bigger than just the two of them."

Harry remained silent, thinking of what he knew of Snape and his love for his mother, how far he went for that love. He had protected him as a penance for his role in Lilly's death, but now that job was complete. If he had felt even a portion of that devotion for Morgan Hunter, who knew what he might be contemplating now, released from his former obligations.

"He hasn't signed off my college letters of recommendation," Harry noted.

"Honestly, Harry, is that your only concern?" Hermione berated him.

"No," Harry replied quickly, his hands up in protest. "He's committed to being my godfather, we are bound. One of the most important reasons was for someone to be able to vouch for me at college. McGonagall may be a replacement for him as Headmaster, but he can't just bail on his godson."

Luna spoke up. "Rumors have started about him and Professor Sinistra, as well. They were seen walking together down in the dungeons last week. Sinistra never goes down there. She doesn't even like coming down to the Great Hall for meals. Perhaps he's moved on to another romance and the two of them are spending time together."

At this, Ron's jaw dropped open. "Well, it kind of makes sense," Ginny noted. "She's got a similar personality, and she likes being awake at night."

Hermione waved away that notion. "I heard that rumor, but I don't believe that's what's going on. I think he's considering her for Head of Slytherin House. She's the only other Slytherin on the staff, now that Slughorn's retired."

"Head of House? But Snape loves being lord over that house. He refused to give it up, despite being Headmaster."

Hermione looked even more troubled. "I know," she said slowly. "That's why I'm so worried. I think he's looking for someone to fill every role that he plays now. McGonagall as Headmaster, Sinistra as Head of Slytherin, Hunter as the Potions Professor."

Now Neville spoke up. "I heard he and the Deputy Minister of Magical Education might have something going on."

Even Luna seemed surprised, if not by the substance, but by the fact of a rumor she hadn't already heard. Neville continued. "She's here almost weekly, either with Minister Winder or without him. I've seen them casting rather unprofessional looks at one another in the Entrance Hall as the two were leaving. Even the Minister noticed and seemed quite bothered by it. I wonder what goes on during the visits when Winder's not here?"

Ron let out a low whistle, while other eyes were wide, picturing the powerful Deputy Alexander with the Headmaster. Luna spoke first. "That seems like a dangerous combination."

"In what way?" asked Harry, thinking of any number of ways a relationship between Hypatia Alexander and Severus Snape might be dangerous.

Now it was Luna's turn to count on her fingers. "They are both very temperamental and a fight between them could not only damage themselves, but also anyone and anything nearby. She was one of the best Beaters Slytherin ever had, and they've always had good Beaters. Her picture is still on the wall from her school days. She might be trying to get more information out of him for the Ministry. If that were so and Professor Snape found out, who knows what he would do. He probably knows lots of ways to poison people without it being obvious. And if they really are in a relationship and Minister Winder doesn't like it, he could make things hard for Professor Snape. He visits to keep an eye on him for the Ministry as it is. He could simply report that things aren't going well and get Professor Snape sacked. And the Ministry could decide to get more involved with Hogwarts, and we all know how that's turned out in the past."

Everyone responded with silent staring, concern on every face.

"I wonder who he's got in mind as my godfather?" Harry wondered.

Ginny looked up, the color draining from her face. "Son of a bludger, Hermione. Bill was here last week. He wouldn't say why, but I bet that's it. Snape was looking for a new godfather for Harry."

Harry felt a tightening in his stomach. The dinner they'd just enjoyed felt like it was about to reappear.

Minerva McGonagall had an unpleasant duty to address and she was not happy about it. And when the Deputy Headmistress was unhappy, it wasn't subtle. The Advanced Transfiguration students received a stern lecture about their performance and the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, which did not seem favorable at this time. The younger students, although accustomed to her strict style, were more intimidated than usual when she lost patience with Amarantha Caritas, who still couldn't turn her inkpot into a pincushion. Instead, it became half of a sparrow. Ordinarily, she might have admired this hint of a talent at transfiguration, but not today. It may have been partly because the half-bird flapped its ink-covered wings all over the Deputy Headmistress' favorite green velvet robe. When the professor drew her wand, half the class, including Amarantha, dove under their desks in fright, followed by McGonagall transforming the unhappy creature back into an (intact) inkpot before waving away the mess. The students cautiously came back out from behind their desks as she glared at them.

The students were more pleased than anxious when she dismissed them 10 minutes before the usual end of class, thus preventing any further wrath. They all scattered out in the halls, hemmed in by the frigid rain outside. They all backed up against walls as the Deputy Headmistress quickly strode out of class, snapping the door shut with a bang and click with a wave of her wand, then marched without breaking her pace down the hall. Only when she turned the corner and headed down the stairs did anyone feel free to peel themselves off the walls and take a breath again. Most then scurried off to their common rooms to relax. The Professor had been too distracted to assign homework.

Morgan Hunter felt nearly unable to get out of bed. Despite the lengthening days, the sun didn't seem to melt her mood. Despite every intention to restart the next day with new resolve, she hadn't managed to get anything done. She executed her lesson plans robotically, but hadn't done any grading. Now that the parchments and samples were nearly taking over her office, the difficulty in taking on the now monumental task of working her way through them seemed less and less appealing. So she simply spent a lot less time there and more time in her personal quarters.

This choice of location served its purpose well, for she was able to avoid the sight of the piles of uncompleted work, avoid student interruptions, and avoid her fellow staff, none of whom had been bold enough to approach her here.

It was the end of another uninspired round of potions for the 3rd years. She nearly assigned an essay on the uses of powdered eel bone, but then decided she didn't want to think about grading it and closed her mouth. As the students cleaned up and brought the samples of their Bleeding Tonic to her desk, she noticed the figure of Minerva McGonagall hovering at the back of the class. Hunter did not acknowledge her, but continued to collect and store the flasks of bluish liquid. McGonagall waited until the students cleared the lab, closed the door with a swish of her wand, then turned to her.

"Professor Hunter, I know it is difficult to adjust to a new job and that Hogwarts, having been the scene of a recent war, is not always an easy place to be," she said without preamble in her usual direct style.

Hunter merely nodded, not bothering to stand or meet the gaze of the Deputy Headmistress. She prepared for the coming list of criticisms (ungraded homework, lax brewing supervision, missing meals, avoiding staff meetings, the list could go on for quite some time). The criticism would then be followed by an impossible list of required steps to take to prevent her being sacked. When she did not meet those requirements, it would be an easy task to let her go, having given her the chance to redeem herself. She closed her eyes in anticipation of caustic words from the strict professor, as though not seeing her might make the situation less painful or the outcome less inevitable.

The excoriation never came. Professor McGonagall sat down on the small stool opposite the teacher's desk and conjured up a tray with two steaming cups of tea, a full pot, a pitcher of cream, and a jar of honey. Without asking if she wanted one, she handed a cup to Hunter, who wordlessly accepted it, but did not drink.

"It isn't poisoned, I assure you," McGonagall said, with an attempt at humor. Hunter gave a wan smile. The warmth of the cup only served as a reminder to her of how cold her fingers were, how cold the classroom was, how cold Hogwarts was. She abhorred the cold.

McGonagall took a sip of the steaming liquid and continued. "I've read some things in the papers, my dear. I know you've had some hard times and not just here. I've lost love, too, myself. Twice, in fact."

Hunter was surprised at her soft tone, not at all the admonishment she'd expected. But what could McGonagall know about what she was feeling? What she'd been through? What she'd lost before and what she was losing now?

McGonagall didn't need a reply to continue on. Now she looked away from Hunter, her eyes focused on some distant place far behind her. "My first love I met just after I graduated from Hogwarts, a lovely man from my village in Scotland. He was my true love, but we could never marry. He was a Muggle and I couldn't hold my magic in for the rest of my life, even for him. Dougal." She put down her cup in the saucer in her lap and looked wistfully into the shadows. "I still remember the moment he proposed to me, on the fields of his father's farm. The sun was shining and there were birds migrating. The field had been recently tilled. I was so in love, and I still am. But I had to say no. That was hard enough, but the worst part was I couldn't tell him why."

Hunter, though moved by her words, still did not respond.

McGonagall made to take another sip of tea, but then set her cup down again. "When my mother married my father, a Muggle, she decided to honor the International Statute of Secrecy and never told my father what she was. Once she realized I was a witch, too, she showed me her magic, but she lived for years deeply unhappy that she couldn't use her gifts. I couldn't live that way, so I resolved to never marry if I couldn't be with Dougal and be my full self. I kept that resolution for many years." Now she took a sip of tea, more to pause between thoughts than out of thirst. Hunter's cup had run out of heat. McGonagall uttered a slight spell and the cup rewarmed instantly, the warmth beginning to bring comfort to Hunter's hands. "I went to work for many years at the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There, I met another who helped me through my grief. We worked together for a long time and he eventually persuaded me to marry him. But only after he asked me for several years. We had three years of happiness before he died." She took a sip of tea, the warm liquid steaming in the chill of the dungeon classroom. "I was a total wreck. I thought I couldn't go on. I decided, instead, to devote myself to teaching. I left the Ministry of Magic and came to Hogwarts."

Here, she put the cup on Hunter's desk and reached for her hand. "Not a day goes by that I don't think of Dougal or Elphinstone and wish things had turned out some other way. But I also look at my time here, and I'm proud of my life and what I've done."

Hunter took some time to grasp all that had been said. Had someone told her that Minerva McGonagall would be sharing details of her personal life with her that afternoon, she would surely had laughed them out of the room. And yet, that was the reality.

"Professor…" she began, feeling an obligation to reply in some way, but having no idea what to say, either in reply or about her own situation.

McGonagall waved away her attempt to speak. "Please, call me Minerva, Morgan. We are only two witches here and I am speaking not as your colleague, but as a friend." She squeezed Morgan's hand, worry and concern written on her face. "I've worked with Severus for a long time, but still I know very little about him. He's been a very private and solitary man for many years, out of both necessity and nature. He's deeply wary of the motivations of others, demanding to those around him, and has a long habit of being caustic and keeping others at a distance. But he is also highly intelligent, complex, and intensely loyal. Whatever there may have been between you, I'm sure it wasn't easy. And what may yet come won't be easy, either. But even I could see that he meant something to you, and that you meant something to him." Hunter made a feeble attempt to protest, but McGonagall waved her unspoken words away. "You both tried to be discreet, but when he started to take some trouble to his appearance, stopped giving so many detentions, everyone took notice. Your choice to spend far more time than was needed to work together on your publications was noticed."

Hunter would ordinarily have blushed at having her personal feelings so plainly discussed, but she seemed to lack the emotional range to react in any meaningful way. She sat back in her chair and looked towards door to the classroom, wishing she could simply walk out.

McGonagall, too, seemed to have reached a point after which her words were more carefully chosen, more slowly spoken. "And now that you're having problems, it's clearly affecting both of you."

Hunter managed to mutter "I'm sorry," but McGonagall sighed. "I'm not here to discipline you, Morgan. I'd like to offer some advice, witch to witch, from someone who has been where you are now. You need to think this over, decide if you are ready to give it all up, or give him one more chance. Can you live the rest of your life knowing you might lose what you want so much? What have you got to lose? What's the worst that could happen?"

What was the worst? A dozen scenarios presented themselves immediately. He might hex her. He'd drawn his wand on her before. She knew he was only trying to make a point about what she might believe about his being a Death Eater, that he'd only launched a mild spell, but what more was he capable of? It gave her no pleasure to recall his surprise when she'd so easily cast off the binding. Surely he could do worse. He was a skilled duelist, she'd heard. She also had heard rumblings among the students that he had fought McGonagall herself, but Hunter hadn't the guts to ask about that.

He might poison her, give her boils or a rash.

But then she imagined the true worst outcome. He might simply sneer at her and turn away, utterly uninterested. And that thought chilled her even more than the dark and dampness here in the dungeons.

McGonagall stood and waved away the tea. "Please think about what I've said, Morgan. You are very well-regarded here at Hogwarts. You are a strong and powerful witch, stronger even than you think you are." She gave her an encouraging glance and exited with a soft swish of velvet robes, leaving Hunter alone, in some combination of stunned and confused. She waved her wand to re-seal the door and prevent any further intrusion on her solitude.