Good evening, readers. I think you will enjoy this much-anticipated chapter. PLEASE re-read chapters 33, 34, and 35 if you read them before August 29th (today), as I needed to make some changes and additions so that things still make sense and I'm not leaving out any of the students who though they deserved some notice. They get testy when they think they are being insufficiently noticed.

There is more to come. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, please review. If not, PM me. :-)

Cheers, DN

Snape gritted his teeth as two owls descended upon him at the staff table before he'd even had a bite of breakfast the following Monday. He'd been very clear that his mail should be discreetly delivered to the Headmaster's office and not to the Great Hall so as not to make a spectacle of his post. His levels of tolerance had improved somewhat recently, as he continued to practice what he hoped was a more fatherly approach to the school as a whole, though his patience had hardly reached that of an ordinary wizard. On an empty stomach, his tolerance was markedly lower.

The first owl, a lovely speckled snowy white owl, delivered a small scroll, sealed with a red bit of wax and smelling a bit like some kind of spice, addressed to "Hogwarts' Potions Instructor." He snapped off the wax and read the parchment.

"Morgan, my dearest,

I was delighted to see you again at my most recent visit there. I enjoyed our conversation during your visit to the Ministry over the winter holiday a great deal, as you know. Our not being able to find an agreeable time for another of your lectures here has been vexing me to no end, as I have told a number of my higher-placed colleagues that you'd come. They can be very helpful to your future, as could I.

Word of your recent incident has reached me, to my great distress, but I am told you are now well on your way to recovery. I'll come to Hogwarts to visit you, as soon as you are on your feet again. In the meantime, Hypatia and I will begin an investigation into negligence on the part of the Headmaster connected with this most unfortunate event. Justice for you will be served. Once this mess has blown over, I hope you'll find a few moments for a meal and some conversation about your future plans. The Ministry has great need for someone of your considerable talent that I'd love to discuss with you. I'll be eagerly awaiting your reply by this owl.

Yours, Parse."

Parse Winder, that lousy creep. The Department of Magical Education was launching an investigation, was it? And he'd come see Morgan as soon as she was recovered. Winder had made the intended recipient intentionally vague, knowing how likely it would be that he would read it, making sure that he would know that he was in pursuit of Morgan, to arouse his jealousy. The white owl was clearly expecting to deliver a response, but first he took the other scroll from the large powerful brown owl (clearly an official Ministry owl)

He unrolled the second much larger scroll and read it.

"To: Headmaster Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

From: Paracelsus Winder, Minister of Magical Education

Professor Snape: Pursuant to reports of unlicensed Scorpion Venom being present at the school, as well as said Venom being unsecured in the presence of minors, and following on reports of inappropriate relationship with a student (Miss Janiss Ames), the Department of Magical Education will shortly be launching an investigation into these matters. I and my deputy will initiate the investigation at our regularly-scheduled visit to the school. When the key witness, Dr. Morgan Hunter, is recovered from her life-threatening injuries resulting from this unsecured substance, she will be compelled offer a preliminary statement. An advocate is not necessary, as the truth shall no doubt be sufficient material from which to assess whether there is any need to investigate further or file an indictment."

The scroll went on quite a good deal further, with lots of therefores and hences formally summarizing the intent of the Minister. So Parse Winder and Hypatia Alexander were to visit this week, before Hunter, the key witness, was even available to speak. He wrote a short note, sealed it with his wand, and sent the white owl off. He stifled a grin and pocketed both parchments and, leaving his breakfast untouched, then strode out of the Great Hall. Students looked at each other in anxiety, wondering if the Headmaster's stern mood bode poorly for their upcoming O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams.

Walking past the long house tables, he heard a small voice call for him from the Gryffindor table. "Good morning, Professor Snape!" He muttered a return greeting and continued on his way, then sensed a small person had stood up and followed him. He stopped and turned suddenly, causing a small witch with a book satchel almost as heavy as herself to collide headlong into him. Despite the gasps from nearby students and the hush that fell on those nearby, waiting with anticipation to hear in what way Snape would humiliate this little pest, she looked up at him and said "Are you going to Potions class now?" He did not respond. "Sir?"

His expression chilly, he said "Yes, obviously, Miss Oglethorpe. It is Monday after breakfast. Where else would I be going? Is there something you need?"

She grinned. "Oh no," she said. "I'll just walk with you."

Snape looked shocked for a moment, then troubled, then confused, then resigned. "Alright then, you may accompany me, if you choose to." He turned to resume course, then felt the intrusion of a small hand in his. His first impulse was to shake off her hand and lecture her on the proper distance between a teacher and a student. The phrase he'd had in his head so often the past week, What would Morgan do?, answered itself. He allowed his hand to be held. As they strode out of the hall, he attempted not to notice when she turned over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Ron Weasley, who looked on in disbelief as his friends snickered. The evidence that some bet had been lost brought another smirk to the tall man's face as he slowed his pace to allow Miss Oglethorpe's smaller stride to keep up with his.

Morgan awoke in darkness, not sure where she was. Was she dreaming or in the afterlife? Was she Ethinian's captive? Had her taken her back to Sedona? The warmth of the desert sun surrounded her, deep into her bones. Listening, she heard mostly silence. Was she now deaf? Not wanting to make any noise lest that alert her possible guard, she now inhaled slowly through her nose, keeping her breathing as controlled as if she were still sleeping. She smelled oil and soot, freshly cleaned linens, dampness, and medicinal herbs. Her skin and her nose were in conflict. Where was she? Cautiously, without moving her head, she opened one eye slightly and looked around as much as she could without moving. The light where she lay was low, from a lantern on a table beside her bed. There were no others that she could see, so she slowly opened one eye fully. There was the now-familiar four-quartered school crest of Hogwarts on the wall. She was still at the school, in the infirmary. She hadn't been captured by Ethinian. She repressed her instinct to sigh with her relief. She'd lived somehow, even though that amount of scorpion venom should have killed a giant. Ethinian hadn't been taking any chances; he'd used the venom full strength. He probably didn't even know how valuable it was. If he had, he would have used it diluted, then sold the rest after she was dead. A little was nearly as good as a lot with scorpion venom.

Severus.

Visions of her last visit to the dungeon crashed in. She felt again her determination and hope rising. Followed closely by the excursion to the Malfoy's and the Binding that had taken away all her hope with Severus. The duel in the alley in Hogsmeade, the way he'd fallen, Sybil running to his aid when she herself was completely incapacitated, his head resting lovingly in her lap, her panic at his injuries. She'd lost control of her emotions, allowed herself to be vulnerable, allowed her shock and despair at Severus' wedding to blind her to the danger she knew she faced.

She'd stopped traveling and speaking, knowing that Ethinian would not hesitate to use any opportunity to attack her. Yet that day, she ignored every rational precaution in her pursuit...of what? Had she simply wanted to wallow in her own loss? What difference did it make if he didn't want her because he was to be married or simply because he didn't? The end result was the same.

Had he survived? She berated herself silently, clenching her teeth. Her foolishness had put the wizard she loved in possibly fatal danger and she had not protected him. Like when Phillipus died. She'd always been protective of him in ways he never even knew about, knowing how ruthless Ethinian was. Had she gone with him that night, as she should have, it would have been a simple matter of Levicorpus. Had she controlled herself more, she would have remained safe within the walls of the school grounds. Both she and Severus would be fine. Sybil would have her wedding day unspoiled.

She was back where she'd started, she thought angrily. What if she'd arrived in the dungeon sooner? If she'd told him how she felt without knowing his plans? Would it have changed anything? Speculation was useless. What was done was done; she would honor the Bond, her friendship with Sibyl and Severus.

Death, she had once wished for it. But at the moment it seemed imminent, as she felt it gathering around her, she'd wanted life more than anything. She struggled to remember what she'd pictured for herself, what was it that she was losing in death, now cheated? Mentally, this was an empty space filled with nothing. Work, yes. Teaching, probably, but only for a few more months. She'd written letters to her friends in Sedona, but never sent them. She had made no efforts to secure her next position. Probably not wise. She'd only had enough stamina to teach and eat, and neither of them well.

Once she was out of the infirmary, she would leave Hogwarts, return to Sedona, then decide. In the worst-case scenario, she could establish a private practice as a Potioneer, though she might need to register with the Council's Department of Apothecaries, Alchemists, and Potions-Makers. She pictured herself making simple, pitiful commercial potions, some talentless clerk, probably a squib, ringing them up, then closing up shop and heading home. To what? Cats?

Teaching was likely out, but maybe something in the Council, in the Formulations Division. Then she'd be a bureaucrat. Probably a higher-level bureaucrat, given her publications and history, but a bureaucrat nonetheless. This line of imagining wasn't helping.

After a flash of herself peddling crystals, minerals, and herbs to Muggle tourists in a dusty shop in the desert, she shuddered and returned her attention to the present. She might never get out of here. Her life itself was a miracle, the rest of her recovery uncertain. She might have been lying here for any amount of time. She began to try to sense the rest of her body, to see if she could move. Something was covering her body, something soft, warm, radiant, a fine vibration across her skin. The sensation covered her back, neck, shoulders, and arms, but stopped at her waist. Her legs seemed absent, any attempt to wiggle toes or bend knees useless. They each seemed to weigh 500 pounds. What of her arms, her hands? As she prepared to wiggle her fingers, she noticed that one hand felt different from the other. The left, extending beyond the sleeve of the garment, felt the soft cotton of the bed sheets. The right felt warmer, with some different texture, vibration but of a different sort from the robe. The vibration from the garment was fast, so much so it was more like a buzzing, each individual vibration impossible to make out. This was a much slower vibration, stronger and deeper. She opened her eyes once again, only slightly, then pulled her eyes as much to the right as possible without moving. It took her some time to make out a dark figure sleeping in an armchair next to her bed, one hand resting on its belly, the other holding hers gently. Long legs extended, head resting back, a large nose pointing upward from a head of dark hair.

Severus.

The warmth from his hand and the soft sounds of his snoring told her all she needed to know. He was alive and apparently not overly damaged.

What in the name of all the was Magical was he doing here, in the middle of the night? He should be in the care of his wife, not here, holding the hand of another witch. He'd rejected her, she remembered with disgust. He'd cast a Binding spell on her. She recalled with smugness his poorly-hidden surprise at how easily she'd cast them off. He hadn't spoken to her in months outside the professionally-required staff interactions. Now this? He was nothing but contradiction to her. By turns kind to her and cruel, committed and distrustful. To students, loyal, caring, bullying, sarcastic. A reputation for skill and ferocity, but defeated by Ethinian in Hogsmeade. Supposedly a former Death Eater, but a war hero to many for defeating the Death Eaters and their leader. Which was the real Severus Snape? And what did it matter to her?

She chose not to try to speak, nor to withdraw her hand, so as not to awaken him. Instead, she simply observed, for how long, she didn't know. She had never had the opportunity to simply look at him, had never seen him asleep. He seemed thinner and paler than she remembered, even in the low light. His long fingers stretched white across the black fabric of his jacket, the others wrapped around her palm.

On the table behind him, a cluster of parchment notes, many including children's drawings, mostly of potions equipment, cauldrons, burning fires, vials, and jars. It was too dim to read the messages, but the sentiment was clear. Her young students knew she was in the hospital and missed her. Perhaps they were worried for her, too. What was happening in her classes?

Behind them, a colossal shower of asters in every color possible, with more on tables further away.

Asters. They always reminded her of Phillipus and did so now.

A small vial of some kind of Potion, swirling iridescence. Who knew what it did.

Her wand, out of her reach, on the table. Severus Snape between her and her wand. She didn't care for that arrangement. She would need to retrieve it as soon as no one else was around.

She began to take inventory of her senses. She had the taste of rust and spinach in her mouth. It was not pleasant, but it did mean she could taste. Now scent. She smelled the fabric of her garment, warm and sunny; the aromatic scent of the potions lab on Severus, combined with a shadow of hyssop. She focused now on hearing. The tiny sounds of the wick in the lantern, the slow breaths of Severus sleeping.

Was she a captive here? How long had she been unconscious? Why was Severus watching over her instead of staying with Sybil? Did she require constant supervision? She reminded herself that he'd cast a Binding spell on her before, rejected her, believed she'd lied to him. He was as untrustworthy as they came and she'd been a fool to think him otherwise, to believe she'd found another wizard like Phillipus. He was a "former" Death Eater and she'd seen how fierce he could be if provoked, though why Ethinian was able to defeat him, she still didn't understand.

Thinking back, she realized that she hadn't attempted to leave the castle since she returned from the winter holidays. She had chosen not to travel to lecture, but what if she had? Would her requests have been denied? And that winter holiday... Was Winder overly attentive because he wanted to be so, or because he was asked to supervise her by Snape? Had there been someone watching her at the inn, even after Winder had finally left for the evening? With all the crowds on the street, she might never have noticed. She'd been able to leave at her will to go to Malfoy Manor, but was that because Snape was gone at the time? He's wily and manipulative, don't forget that. You've seen yourself how he handled Janiss and Ethinian, Parse and Hypatia. It's like a game to him. Who knows what he's been up to. Best escape this place as quickly and as quietly as you can, she told herself. You are likely still in danger and he said himself that Death Eaters can be possessive. Escape before he even knows you are awake. Get your wand and go. She vowed to take the opportunity as soon as she was sure she was strong enough and not supervised. For now, stay still until you are sure of your strength. Ethinian may still be somewhere outside the castle, so even if you escape the school, he may be waiting in the village. Be on your guard.

After two days had passed, she found she was never alone. Always, there was someone watching her, someone guarding her. Madame Pomfrey, student apprentices, a House Elf, and overnight, Snape. How could she truly test her strength with someone always there? Every part of her felt well enough. She'd regained all feeling in her legs and feet now, but she could never move to test them or any other body part, only tense up her muscles in the darkness. She was also nearly mad with hunger. She would need to reveal her recovery soon, whether or not it was ideal. Snape kept asking about her condition, no doubt concerned for her capability to escape. She would need to get her wand.

That night, when she was certain Snape was fully asleep, she opened her eyes and tested her arms and legs for the first time. The exercise she'd been doing in the dark had worked; they moved just fine now. She heard the sound of small feet coming closer. A house elf emerged out of the darkness not long after and let out a squeak, noting that Hunter's eyes were open and she was stirring. The squeak in turn woke up Snape, who quickly withdrew his hand, allowing hers to drop to the bedside.

"What is it, Will?" he asked, snapping to full consciousness.

"Dr. Hunter's eyes were open, sir, and her arm was moving! I think she may be waking up. I'll go get Madam Pomfrey," the excited house elf said, already half-way down the ward.

Snape half-stood, scooted the armchair closer to the bedside and took Hunter's hand once more, looking into her eyes. "Can you feel me holding your hand, Morgan?" he said quietly.

She wanted to yank her hand away, but felt it best not to give evidence of her revulsion. He should think she was weak and vulnerable. Perhaps then he would lower his guard at some point and give her an opportunity to get her wand. She managed to nod slightly as though it were difficult.

A look of relief spread over his face. "Can you speak?" She let only a gurgle come out. He put a finger to her lips to stop her further attempts, as Madam Pomfrey swept in, a vial of orange potion in her hand and a Will, the house elf, following with a tray of food. She quickly apprised the situation, as her patient's eyes and face now followed her movements as she moved from the near to the far side of the bed.

"This is antidote, Dr. Hunter. Can you swallow?" the healer asked without preamble.

Antidote, to what? Scorpion venom? There was no such thing and they would know that she knew it. What could this Potion be? To resist would be to give away the secret of her strength. Hunter nodded and opened her mouth slightly as Poppy pulled out the cork and began to pour the orange potion in. This was where the rust and spinach flavor came from, but it was now mixed with the tastes of witch hazel, willow, and something floral. It was repulsive, difficult to swallow. There was no antidote, but she'd survived. Perhaps this Potion was what had effected her survival; she drank it thirstily. Will handed her a goblet of pumpkin juice (Merlin's beard, she was sick of this vile stuff) which she also drank quickly, followed by some water.

As the Potion went down, she closed her eyes to focus on the sensation as it entered her stomach and began to flow into her blood. Her heart began to beat more forcefully. She felt greater strength flowing across her body, warming her from within as the garment on her warmed her from without. She began to move her arms and twitch her feet, as though she were just regaining their use. She squeezed Snape's hand and was surprised by the look on his face, some mixture of relief and possibly joy. It was fleeting, so she wasn't sure. Perhaps a trick of the dimness still surrounding them.

Pomfrey asked "Is it getting better?" and Hunter nodded. "Good! Let's give it time to work fully. I'll come back in an hour for a more complete exam. I'll see if she needs another dose then, perhaps at midday." She dismissed the house elf and then turned to Snape. "I assume I can rely on you to monitor Dr. Hunter, Severus? Send for me if there is anything other than improvement. I'll be back later."

She walked out, leaving the two of them alone in the lamplight.

"Morgan," Snape said, still holding her hand, his feeling cool and clammy. "Can you speak at all now?"

She tried, but her vocal cords were not functioning well. She'd had no chance to test them until now. "Severus," she said, her voice cracking in a way she thought seemed particularly weak. She let a tear slide down her face.

Snape reacted with alarm that she felt was an affectation. "Morgan, are you hurting? I have plenty of Pain Potions."

She shook her head no.

"How can I help you? Is the recovery painful?"

Yes, it was incredibly painful, agony really, to sit here in the darkness, holding the hand of her former love, his having been recently married to another. Plotting her escape from a wizard she once believed she could trust and who now seemed menacing. She shook her head no. He looked relieved.

She needed information. She spoke again with effort in her voice, her eyes locked with his. "How long have I been here, Severus?"

"A week and a half. It is Wednesday night now, actually Thursday morning."

She sighed. She had been unconscious for nearly a week, awake (and starving) for three days. She eyed the food on the tray. "I'm so hungry, Severus," she said.

"Of course, let me help you." He helped her sit up, while she eyed her wand over his shoulder and made sure she didn't betray her strength. Once, she was sitting up, he rested the tray on her lap. Again, she tried not to betray how strong she was, but it was difficult to stop herself from bolting down every morsel in 30 seconds. The food was warm and delicious, a cream of white asparagus soup and roasted pork loin with warm French bread and Scottish butter. He stayed close and watched her eat. As she did, Snape filled her in on the events of that day, her being carried back to the school, Madame Pomfrey caring for her, the students' concerns.

"Did Ethinian escape?" she asked in between swallows of the restoring soup.

Here, Severus allowed a sardonic smile to cross his lips that brought her mind to how frightening he had been, preparing for battle with Ethinian in the alley. "Yes. Initially. He was found only two hours later, dead."

She regarded him carefully, looking for signs of regret or remorse in him, and saw none. This worried her further, his having no apparent concern for the death of another, until she noticed that she, too, had no sadness or surprise at this news. "Who killed him?" She wanted to know who to thank later, as well as who to be wary of.

"I believe you did, Morgan."

At this, she turned her head towards him questioningly.

"It would seem your drooling on him was quite effective. He'd tried to wipe it away, but used his bare hand, which only spread it further. There was enough venom still in your mouth to kill him." She turned away, not wanting to show him how pleased she was, how smug. She was ashamed of herself for taking pleasure in having killed him, but this was paired with an uncomfortable amount of pride. Taking pleasure in killing was wrong, wasn't it, even though he was attempting to kill her? It would be a simple matter to demonstrate self-defense were she to be tried in court on the matter, but still, she'd killed another person and was not as horrified at herself as she thought she should be. He was gone, never to bother her again. He'd brought it on himself, mostly. He had no idea how dangerous scorpion venom was and hadn't known to wash it off immediately with urine of some kind.

Her thoughts turned to Janiss, wondering what she was feeling. Poor girl, all she'd been through too much at such a young age.

"Janiss?" she asked.

"She was informed of his death the following day. Her presence was required to identify him. Professor Flitwick, her Head of House, delivered the news and accompanied her to the morgue. She seems to have taken it well, but a next of kin for her has yet to be identified."

Silence descended. They both knew who her closest kin was.

Now Hunter uttered the question that she'd wanted to know the answer to the most. "How am I alive if a skin exposure to my drool could kill a wizard at least twice my size?"

A shadow of some kind of emotion passed over Snape's face. "You were given an antidote."

"Antidote? There's no such thing. Where did it come from?"

Snape looked away and placed her hand on the blanket.

She repeated herself, more accusingly this time. "Where did it come from? Scorpion venom is fatal, and I got a lot."

Snape looked down, leaning over his elbows now resting on his knees. He seemed uncomfortable, like he was hiding something from her. She wasn't surprised. Think of all his hidden from you before. He winced, putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Morgan, when I thought you would die, I…." He didn't finish the sentence.

He was resisting her, when she needed him to feel at ease. "You should go, Severus. Get your rest." She lay back as though exhausted herself. "You'll be teaching, and Sybil will miss you."

Snape was shaking his head in disagreement, until the last. "What does Professor Trelawney have to do with anything?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "I have stepped in to teach your classes, but my advanced students are also helping. Trelawney has no qualifications in Potions. I'll stay."

She was going to need to work harder. She protested yet again. "Go. Please. I won't have Sybil angry with me, she's a good friend."

"I ask you again," he said, more testily than before. "Why do you mention Professor Trelawney? She's fine, wasn't hit with a curse or hex."

"Can you please take the tray, Seveurs? I think I'd like to rest again," she said sweetly.

He stood, gathered the tray and took it to the table next to the adjacent bed.

Hunter saw her opportunity, with Snape no longer impeding her access to her wand. She sprang out of bed, grabbed her wand and turned.