A huge thank you to the following who reviewed the last chapter: stubs1101, szaboalexandra1991, Guest reader, Sk97, Weird1, pineapple-pancake, Cat2k10, A5mia, d'elfe, and CygnusRift. You guys are just so wonderful.

Here is the next chapter - I hope you enjoy it :)

September gave way to October akin to the ever-subtle progression of the changing seasons; unnoticed by most until it was suddenly upon them in the blink of an eye.

The only way to pass the time and keep her mind off matters, Lauren found, was to throw herself into schoolwork, and she even made a considerable effort during class and with her homework. Otherwise, her inner turmoil threatened to tear a gash through her very psyche.

But, when alone at night while she lay in bed, the sounds of the waters of the Black Lake sloshing gently against the dorm windows, Lauren felt as though she were suffocating.

It's been over a month and still no news…

Her despair was threatening to crash down upon her like a crushing wave.

And throughout, one thought stuck out clear in her mind.

Snape was not very optimistic with the hope that she would ever return to her world, or strongly suspected that she would not be able to do so. Lauren did not want to believe him, to even consider it a possibility, but a small logical part of her thought that he might be right, especially since she had heard nothing back for the all-knowing Dumbledore. And she was fast starting to lose hope, as feeble as it had been.

And then there was the frosty wall that had descended between Lauren and Snape since their last encounter.

They were making a concerted effort to keep their distance from each other; the Potion Master determinedly choosing to pretend that Lauren did not exist, which suited her just fine. She was still spitting mad that he had given her the useless advice that she should just accept her new life here and deal with it. It was easy for him to say – he was not the one having to redo school all over again and learn something foreign like wielding magic, which did not come naturally to Lauren. That's what made his statement so callous. He hadn't an inkling of what she was going through. Therefore, her fury towards him fueled her into ignoring him with equal measure, if not more so.

During Potion lessons Snape very rarely approached her station, if at all, and when he did so it was usually to check on Tracey's potion. Not once did he glance Lauren's way. And not once did she deign to acknowledge his presence, treating him as though he were some irritating shadow that she unfortunately had to deal with a few times a week.

And though they tried to pretend each other's existence was nonexistent, there was no denying the tension brewing between like a thunderous storm cloud unfurling ominously over the horizon. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

She knew their actions were childish and something was going to have to give soon, but both were too damn stubborn and headstrong for their own good to attempt to smooth things over between them.

If Lauren wanted to admit to herself - which she did not - she didn't particularly enjoy this animosity that had been established between them like an iron curtain. If anything, it was eating away at her. But she would not yield on this. She would not accept that she was stuck here. She was determined to return to her old life at all cost, even though the hope of doing so looked slim to none as the days turned into weeks.

Dumbledore was the only one who would be able to yield some answers and, thus far, it seemed that he was just as determined to avoid her as much as Severus. He was a hard man to find, she was fast learning, especially when he did not want to be found.

She had attempted to seek him out in his office one day, but found her way blocked by the unmoving stone gargoyle, who refused to budge even when she used the password she had heard Dumbledore use the last time she was here. She had then tried a variation of passwords of the candy that she knew existed in this world, but none had worked. Or maybe the gargoyle had been commanded not to grant her entrance under any circumstances. She wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to have done just that.

Her persistent attempts had been interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall.

"What do you think you are doing, Miss Ward?" the formidable witch demanded in her stern voice.

Lauren startled and whirled around to come face to face with the towering Professor, who was peering down at her from over her spectacles.

"I just wanted a word with the Headmaster, Professor," she replied sullenly, having recovered from her fright.

McGonagall studied her critically, almost as though she were expecting deception from the girl. "The Headmaster is rather busy right now. Might I suggest that you head back to your dorm and maybe work on your Transfiguration homework."

That was a blatant hint if ever she heard one. Lauren was struggling with Transfiguration. In fact, she was struggling with all her classes that required her to do spell work or magic which, admittedly, meant almost all of them. For some reason, she could not master her magic. Well, Snape had given her the explanation as to why that was, but she was still stubbornly refusing to accept it. She was very much in denial. Lauren was still rebelling against the idea of wielding magic and being here in a world where she did not belong.

"But I need to speak to him," she protested. "It's urgent."

"It usually always is," McGonagall muttered. "Now go on and don't let me catch you here again."

Taking one look at her teacher, Lauren knew that there was no challenging this particular woman. McGonagall would not back down.

Shooting McGonagall a dark scowl, Lauren stormed away. She had not tried since then to seek out Dumbledore, knowing that it would be a lost cause until he was ready to have an audience with her.

Her frustration with Dumbledore and lack of answers, as well as the building tension between her and Snape was causing many restless nights for Lauren.

She would often wake up in the early hours of the morning after having tossed and turned all night, her dreams predominantly that of a shadowy figure looming over her, its arm raised and ready to…strike? Lauren didn't know what the intentions of this mystery figure was, but the way her heart pounded when she awoke with a start led her to believe that it was nothing good.

On those nights she would crawl out of bed and stare out her window at the swishing murky waters beyond, trying to calm her erratic thoughts; dark and morose thoughts that did nothing for her plummeting spirits.

Tonight was no different, though the shadowy figure in her dream had started to come more into focus, but still remained frustratingly indistinguishable. Lauren awoke with a gasp, drenched in clammy, cold sweat, certain that the identity of the person in her dreams had come very close to being revealed.

Lauren calmed her breathing and frowned to herself as she stared up at the canopy of her bed. The dream had not felt like a dream at all, but rather a memory. Though, a memory of what she could not recall, but she knew that the answer as to how she had arrived in the world of Harry Potter lay within that memory.

Deciding she would not be able to get back to sleep again, Lauren staggered out of bed and headed to the bathroom to shower.

By the time she had washed away the remnants of her dream and had dressed in her school uniform, the others were beginning to stir. Tracey was the first up, her eyes narrowing when she noticed that Lauren was not only up before her but was also fully dressed and her school bag packed.

"This is the third time this week you've gotten up early," she remarked as she climbed out of bed, her sleek bob barely mussed up. Lauren envied hair like that.

Lauren chose not to point out that it had actually been more than three times. She had woken up early practically every day of the week for the past month. Lauren had simply chosen to remain in bed until Tracey and the others arose.

"Is everything okay?"

Lauren shrugged, not really in the mood for conversation. "Yup. Everything's peachy," she mumbled tiredly, too fatigued to offer up her usual morning dose of sarcasm.

Tracey eyed her, contemplating whether it would be a good idea to push Lauren for a truthful answer. Finally, deciding that it was indeed not wise to do so, she proceeded to get ready in silence.

They made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Lauren dragging her heels and barely managing to muster up any energy to greet the other Slytherins already seated at the table. Tracey kept shooting her concerned glances throughout breakfast, but Lauren resolutely ignored her as she listlessly pushed her food around her plate with her fork.

As breakfast progressed, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end as Lauren sensed someone watching her. And she could wager a good guess as to who that someone was. But she refused to glance up at the teacher's table where Severus Snape was covertly watching her from behind the inky black curtain of his hair.

His features were set in hard, grim lines as he studied her, noting that as the month had progressed, a change had overcome her. And not a good change by the looks it. Dark circles ringed around her midnight blue eyes, hinting that she had not been sleeping well. Then there was also the lack of appetite. Lauren spent most of breakfast, lunch and dinner pushing her food around her plate, only taking a few small bites in between. Her naturally ivory skin was now pallid and unhealthy looking, and her already petite frame was starting to show signs of gauntness.

Snape frowned, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a small sip of the bitter liquid. He was not pleased with his observations.

Suddenly Lauren's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto his. She scowled darkly at him before standing abruptly and striding from the Great Hall, her long waves flouncing down her back. Tracey looked bewildered and, after a moment's hesitation, followed after her friend.

Snape's frown deepened, his irritation now morphing into deep concern. Lauren looked very much on the verge of breaking.

Snape cast his dark gaze over to the Headmaster, who was animatedly engaged in a conversation with Flitwick. He was going to have to have a word with Dumbledore before the day was through.

It had not gone unnoticed by Severus that Dumbledore was very much avoiding Miss Ward. Whether it was because he didn't have an answer, or didn't want to give her the answer, Snape could not yet tell. As with everything, Dumbledore kept his secrets and intentions well guarded, revealing them only when he thought it necessary.

But the time had now come to step in. Lauren couldn't carry on like this. Either they sent her back to her world, or they needed to find another way to help her, regardless of whether she wanted that help or not.

Snape let out a soft sigh. Knowing Lauren, aiding her was not going to be easy. She was about as prickly as what he was, and she would resist at every turn. Unless something drastic happened.

As he peered at the Headmaster, Snape suddenly realized that this was exactly what Dumbledore was waiting for. He was waiting for something to happen. But what? Snape didn't have the answer, but he was going to demand it when he sought out Dumbledore at the end of the day.

Rising to his feet, Severus strode from the Hall in a billow of black and headed down to the dungeon, Lauren's predicament weighing heavy on his already burdened shoulders.

~oOo~

The Slytherins' last lesson for the day was History of Magic. It had fast become apparent to Lauren that the books had not been exaggerating about Professor Binns. His ghostly form droned on and on, his monotonous lectures often putting half the class to sleep within the first ten minutes. His lessons were neither interesting nor riveting and did little to captivate the students' attention.

Lauren usually applied the tactic of zoning Binns out and instead took notes from her textbook throughout the lesson. It normally worked and she was able to stay awake during class and retain some information needed for the essays required for homework.

But this method wasn't working today. Lauren was dead tired, the past month's lack of sleep finally catching up to her, and she just could not concentrate. She stared back at the silvery ghost with glazed eyes, her focus slipping with each ticking second.

She caught herself nodding off repeatedly and earnestly tried her best to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. Finally giving up the fight, Lauren rested her head upon her crossed arms on the desk. It wasn't long before sleep pulled her under like an enchanting siren's call.

Lauren finished off the last of the wine, letting the now empty bottle drop to the floor with a thud. The alcohol was doing wonders to make her forget Deacon. The tension had long since ebbed from her body, leaving her feeling more content and relaxed than she had felt in a long time. She rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes in alcohol-induced bliss, passing out in a matter of seconds.

Something prickled along the recesses of her subconscious, alerting her to the fact that something was seriously wrong. She groaned, struggling to wake up, but her eyelids felt like they were made of lead.

The floorboard creaked not too far from where she was, and she suddenly knew that she was not alone.

Her heart started to beat erratically in her chest as she struggled to blink open her eyes. Her vision was blurred, though she could definitely discern that someone standing in front of her. She blinked again and this time the figure came into hazy focus.

Deacon.

The very blood in her veins froze to ice as he raised his hand over his head, his weapon of choice now revealed – a baseball bat. His features were contorted into an ugly rage-filled mask and his pale blue eyes were now dark orb of murderous hate and intent. And his intentions were very clear: he was going to kill her.

Terror unlike she had ever felt before flooded her and Lauren opened her mouth to scream. But her scream was cut off mid-breath as Deacon swung the bat down, catching Lauren across the side of her head.

White starbursts clouded her vision as Lauren was sent reeling to the floor, pain cleaving her head in two. Her mind was screaming at her to get up and try and escape, but it was as though her body was paralyzed, unable to move or fight back.

An odd whimpering sound made its way to her ringing ears and Lauren realized with a start that she was the one making that noise.

Black combat boots entered her field of vision and this time she did try to struggle up to her hands and knees, desperately trying to push past the agony and escape.

Then the blows rained down upon her, each one more excruciating than the last, and Lauren collapsed once more to the floor, unable to fight back.

She tried to scream, knowing with certainty that tonight she was going to die at the hands of this monster, but her screams would not sound.

Another blow landed viciously upon the back of her skull with a sickening crack. Lauren watched the pool of crimson blood ooze across the floor, dimly aware that everything was going black.

"LAUREN!"

Lauren's eyes shot open. She was lying on the stone floor of the classroom drenched in sweat, her chair toppled over nearby on the floor. Her throat was dry and parched, almost as though she had been shrieking at the top of her lungs. And judging by the frightened expressions on each of the students faces, that's exactly what she had been doing.

Tracey was gripping her upper arms, apparently having tried to shake her awake from the nightmare.

No, Lauren corrected herself. That was no nightmare – that was a memory.

Bile rose to her throat as she recalled the feel of each agonizing blow.

I died.

Lauren scrambled to her feet and dashed from the classroom, racing blindly down the corridor at breakneck speed.

I was murdered.

She rounded the corner and flew down the staircase.

I'm dead.

Down another flight of stairs, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she raced along a deserted corridor.

I'm dead, her mind screamed over and over again, the words echoing with a dreadful finality.

Lauren entered a room at random and somehow managed to close the door behind her before she fell to her hands and knees, retching violently.

Once the contents of her stomach were emptied, Lauren sat back on her heels, crossing her arms tightly across her middle as she rocked back and forth. She felt numb and cold at the same time, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

Deacon killed me.

The silence of the room was broken by her anguished cry, the bare stone walls the only witness to her breakdown. Lauren bowed her head and sobbed uncontrollably as the reality of what had happened hit her. Her heart felt like it had split into a million shards, each piece stabbing her to the very core with crippling torment.

She rocked back and forth as she wept alone in that room.

After some time, Lauren lifted her tear stained face, her bleary gaze coming to rest upon a gilded framed mirror.

The Mirror of Erised.

Instead of seeing what she truly desired, all Lauren witnessed was her own pitiful reflection staring back at her. In that precise moment she realized that all she had desired before was to return back to her world. But that was not possible now. There was no way she could return now.

Lauren hung her head as fresh waves of body-wracking sobs consumed her.

Suddenly she was being drawn against a solid chest, strong arms and layers of black material enveloping her in a protective cocoon. The familiar scent of herbs and old parchment penetrated her consciousness, letting her know that it was Severus Snape who was holding her. Lauren wept bitterly in his arms, fisting her hands into the material of his robes as she clung to him in desperation.

Snape held her as he crouched on the hard, cold stone floor, his embrace hardly being described as comforting. But Lauren felt oddly safe in his arms as she cried herself out. Not once did he try to pull away, nor did he murmur any nonsensical words of platitude. He simply held her.

Lauren finally pulled back, feeling spent of all emotions and energy. A flutter of white appeared in her vision and she numbly accepted the handkerchief, mopping away the traces of her tears.

"What happened, Lauren?" Severus enquired softly.

Lauren slowly lifted her gaze, her tear-filled eyes meeting his own dark ones.

"I died." Crystalline tears trickled from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. "Deacon murdered me…back in my world."

A slight frown creased his brows as Severus regarded her. More tears spilled from her eyes and suddenly Snape pulled her back against him with crushing intensity, his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her against him, letting her cry.

Finally, when her cries had subsided, Snape pulled away and reached into the pocket of his robes, producing a vial of potion.

"A Calming Draught," Severus explained, his voice calm and precise.

He unstoppered the vial and handed it to Lauren. She took it with a trembling hand and raised it to her lips, swallowing down the liquid in one gulp. Snape pocketed the now empty vial before rising to his feet and helping Lauren up.

"Do you think you can manage the walk back to my office?" he asked, his grip still firmly on her upper arm as he peered down at her.

Lauren gave a small nod, her eyes puffy and her pale cheeks blotchy. She was exhausted and all she wanted to do was go to sleep. All she wanted to do was forget.

Severus regarded her for a moment and then guided her with uncharacteristic gentleness towards the door.

When the echoing treads of their footsteps had faded away, Quirrell stepped out of a shadowy nook he had been hiding in and cancelled the Disillusionment Charm he had cast upon himself.

"She…she died," Quirrell stammered, frowning deeply. "But she is alive! How is that even possible?

The voice that responded in Quirrell's head sounded distinctly excited.

I need her! Within her body lies the key to cheating death…

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