54. First Victim

It was not quite a dream, though I knew I was asleep.

I was in the corner of Andromeda's sitting room, shafts of moonlight coming through the wooden dowels of Teddy's crib. I wanted to stand over it, to see his face, but I was unable to move anything but my eyes. The clock in the kitchen ticked softly.

Soon another sound reached my ears. Footsteps on the stairs. Andromeda came into view, wearing a long nightgown, her hands at her sides. She looked sleepless. She entered the room to check on Teddy, and then went to the kitchen. A moment later the light turned on, and I heard the sound of the kettle being quietly set on the stove, the flame clicking to life.

I watched from my dark corner until Andromeda entered the sitting room again. She sat on the couch facing Teddy's crib and the empty fireplace, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Then she rested her chin on her hand, and turned her head to look out the glass door which led into the back garden.

Her face changed. She stood up. I could not see from my angle what she had seen, but whatever it was, it was drawing her to the door. She stood with her face close to the glass, her breath fogging against it. She shook her head and turned her face away, closing her eyes. Then she looked again. Without a backward glance at Teddy, she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

She went out. A cold night breeze blew in. Teddy murmured in his sleep.

I woke up breathing hoarsely in the deep blue darkness of the room. It had not been a nightmare, but there was something about the dream which was wrong.

This was my first night in over a month without the dreamless sleep potion before bed. I had completely forgotten about it. But some part of me was glad I had not taken it. I was certain that this was not a simple dream. It was a warning.

As I processed this I began to gasp, finding it difficult to breathe, pushing myself up to sitting. The images from the dream lingered, floating, in my mind. There was a distinct aching in my head.

Severus shifted in the darkness beside me, and turned to light the lamp. "Shh–" he said, seeing my hand clutching my throat, my wide eyes. He moved to hold me, and pulled me against his chest. "Shh. You're awake."

He held and stroked me as I coughed, struggling, grasping him. When I could finally breathe freely I moved out of his embrace, out of the bed, and began to find my clothes on the floor, pulling them on urgently. "I have to go–"

"It was a dream," Severus said, still trying to calm me.

"No," I insisted, my tone suddenly sharp. "I don't think it was… No, it was real. I have to go. Andromeda…"

Something in my voice made Severus stand from the bed as well. "I'm coming with you," he said, as he also gathered his clothes.

I nodded, in no state to protest, and we both finished dressing in a flash, following old instincts still intact from the war.

"My arm–" I said. And Severus's hand closed around my elbow.

We landed in the middle of the street outside of Andromeda's house. The light in the kitchen window was on–just as it had been in the dream.

"Are you mad?" Severus snapped. But I was not listening. I was already running up to the front door. I unlocked it with my wand and rushed inside. The kettle was whistling sharply from the kitchen, and Teddy was standing up in his crib, crying.

I touched his head for a moment before going to the open glass door. I ran into the back garden, whose gate was open to the meadow which stretched to the woods. The beacon of the nearly full moon hung over the scene, casting sharp black shadows on the grass.

"Andromeda!" I called.

"Quiet!" Severus insisted, standing just behind me. A dog in one of the nearby houses had begun to bark.

"She went to the woods," I said.

The moonlight was more than enough to light our way as we ran across the meadow. A breeze whispered through the trees. "Lumos," I said, once we were under the darkness of the branches. I slowed my steps, looking every which way for a sign of Andromeda. I called her name again. Severus went further off to look as well. A minute had passed when my wandlight caught something pale on the ground. I hurried towards it, and there she was, lying on the ground in her nightgown.

"She's here!" I shouted, and I heard Severus's running footsteps as he followed the sound of my voice.

Her eyes were wide open, but she was unresponsive. She looked much like the victims of the basilisk in my third year, but her body was not stiff. She seemed to be sleeping with her eyes open. And rather than an expression of shock, her face wore a look of grief and betrayal. I was certain at that moment that what she had seen through the glass door–what had drawn her to the woods–was one of the beings.

Severus reached us and knelt down at once, hovering his wand over Andromeda. "She's comatose," he said. "Go to the child."

I made a strangled sound of shock, unable to believe that I'd forgotten so completely about Teddy. My body hesitated for only a moment before I turned and ran back through the woods, across the meadow, and into the house. Teddy was crying more urgently now. The water in the kettle had evaporated, and there was no more painful whistling.

I picked him up at once, and held him against my upper body. "I'm so sorry," I told him, swaying slightly and hushing him until he had calmed a bit. I went into the kitchen to turn off the stove and the light. Then I returned to the sitting room, watching the edge of the woods urgently. Soon Severus appeared, carrying Andromeda in his arms.

I stepped back as he entered the house and laid her body down on the couch. He had closed her eyes, but her chest was still rising and falling.

"I need you to tell me everything you saw," Severus demanded. There was a taut, strained look on his face. I was sure my own face was the same. It was the look of hypervigilance–the look of war.

Holding Teddy's head away from the sight of his grandmother, I told Severus the contents of my dream. "It was one of them that she saw," I said, though I could see he'd already pieced it together.

"We need to leave here now," he said. "Is the fireplace connected to the floo network?"

"Yes," I said. Though I'd never used it, I knew it was. "Accio Floo powder," I called into the house. There was a faint clunk from upstairs, probably a drawer opening, and soon a small wooden box flew down the stairs and into my hand.

"You two first," Severus instructed. I took a small handful of the powder, still holding Teddy tightly. He had begun to howl, picking up on the tension in our voices. "I'll follow with her."

"Do you know what–"

"Not now," he said, and there was that old sharpness in his tone which I knew not to disobey. "Incendio," he intoned, and flames sprang to life in the fireplace.

I was suddenly worried about taking Teddy. "Is it safe for–"

"Yes. Go."

I tossed my handful of powder into the flames, which roared green, and stepped in. "The Three Broomsticks!" I shouted, and was swept away.

Madam Rosmerta was alerted immediately to our arrival by the sound of Teddy's crying. She came down the stairs in a long dressing gown with her wand lit, and gasped at the sight of Severus carrying Andromeda.

"What's–? Is she–?"

"I am going to set her down and I need you to keep her head up," Severus said, his voice dominating the situation. Carefully he placed Andromeda into one of the many chairs and did not let go until Madam Rosmerta had her hand behind Andromeda's head, supporting it.

Severus swept past me towards the entrance, conjuring his light blue doe as he walked. "I require two thestrals immediately, at the Three Broomsticks." I was certain the patronus was headed to Hagrid, and Severus seemed to expect the response to be prompt, for he opened the front door and stepped out into the cobbled high street. I hushed Teddy, watching Severus, until, just half a minute later, he seemed to see something in the sky, and returned inside.

He lifted Andromeda in his arms again, and I followed him outside, Teddy crying in my ear. Two thestrals landed in the high street, and Severus quickly lifted Andromeda onto the larger one's back before mounting himself. "Follow," he said brusquely to me, and then set off at a gallop down the street.

"What on earth happened!" Madam Rosmerta pleaded.

"No time–" I said. "I don't know. Can you–"

She held Teddy while I pulled myself up onto the thestral's back, with not nearly as much grace as Severus had done, and then she passed the child into my arms. Her face was anxious under the moonlight. "I'll send word once all is well," I promised, and held fast to the thestral as it began to move.

Panic reared up in my chest as the thestral sped up, and I urgently clutched Teddy, afraid that he would fall. But I soon saw that there was no reason to worry. The thestral ran as smoothly as it would fly, and seemed to know where I needed to go without any prompting. It ran so fast that by the time we'd crossed the viaduct bridge and come to a stop in the courtyard, Hagrid was only just arriving. Severus's thestral stood alone, drinking from the fountain. I figured he and Andromeda had already reached the hospital wing.

"What's goin' on?" Hagrid called as he approached. He offered me his massive hand and I took it as I carefully got down. Teddy was still crying from the shock and confusion of the night.

"Andromeda Tonks–" I said. "In the woods. She'll be alright. Severus has her."

But I realised as I spoke that I wasn't sure whether she would be alright. In fact, it was unlikely.

Leaving Hagrid with the thestrals, I quickly went inside and climbed the stairs, holding Teddy tightly. I heard raised voices as I finally entered the hospital wing corridor, and stepped into the main room to find that Minerva and Sybill had already woken and hurried to see what was wrong. Andromeda was lying on one of the cots, and Severus was bent over her. Poppy was standing nervously at his side. Minerva's face was as pale as I had ever seen it.

"I need silence!" Severus said, his voice between a snarl and a shout. He turned his head sharply to me, and I realised that Teddy was still crying, only adding to the chaos of Poppy and Sybill's questions.

I quickly exited the room again, carrying the distraction away, and sat down on the stairs, rocking Teddy slowly. "Shh… Shh…" I said, and began to softly sing one of the songs he loved. "Doe, a deer, a female deer… Ray, a drop of golden sun…"

A sense of chaos flooded me as I realised that Teddy would be my responsibility until Andromeda woke. Since Severus–one of the most formidable wizards living–had been unable to wake her at once, I wasn't certain how long she would sleep. My mind refused to let in the other possibility–that to wake her was impossible. Who knew the effects of coming into close contact with one of the beings? No-one else had ever been successfully lured by one of them. Andromeda had been unable to resist the pull without someone else there to hold her back–as both Remus and Severus had done for me. She was the first victim.

Teddy quieted with the sound of my singing, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to incur Severus's anger. But he did not fully calm until my own heartbeat eventually slowed.

Minerva and Sybill emerged from the hospital wing. "Poppy is staying with them," Minerva informed me. "Severus is searching her mind."

Sybill had a familiar look in her eyes, almost fanatical. She looked even more willowy than usual in her bizarrely patterned dressing gown, her hair frizzy from sleep. "It was a vision, dear!" she exclaimed, nodding her head as she approached me, eyes bulging behind her bulky glasses.

I looked at Minerva for support, expecting her to roll her eyes, but to my surprise she looked quite open to Trelawney's theory. "Severus told us you dreamed it," Minerva said.

"Yes, but–"

"Then it was. It was a vision!" Trelawney had always said that I was a seer when I'd been in school. It had been embarrassing, and my classmates had thought–as had I–that she simply favoured me for some unknown reason. I seemed to get top marks on all of my work for her class, with very little effort.

For the first time, though, I wasn't so sure that she was wrong.

After the parent tour, Sybill had told me my inner eye was clouded. Perhaps she had observed something deeper than the fact that I was staring into space. The dreamless sleep had been keeping me from tapping into my usual wealth of dreams–but I had needed it to keep the nightmares about Remus at bay. My mind reeled as I wondered whether those nightmares had held similar weight to the one I'd had tonight… But that was impossible. I'd mostly dreamed of Remus dying, and knew for certain that he was still alive.

I shook my head. "Perhaps. But it was only this once. Dreams seemingly prophetic can surely result from heightened empathy."

"But it was not prophetic, Miss Weasley." The speaker was Minerva, to my surprise. "You dreamed it as it happened."

"Well… yes."

Trelawney bit her lip in extreme excitement, and wrung her hands gently.

"It only happened because I hadn't taken my dreamless sleep," I said.

Sybill looked very alarmed. "Oh, dear, not that! You mustn't take that!"

"Miss Weasley, why don't I take the child so your arms can have a rest."

"No, thank you," I answered Minerva. Teddy was all I had to hold onto right now–even if she was correct about the tiredness of my arms. He seemed to be growing heavier, and was also drifting in and out of sleep.

The three of us waited in the corridor, Sybill asking various confirming questions about the nature of my vision, until Severus was finished and Poppy brought us back into the hospital wing.

Severus was standing at the black window near Andromeda's cot, looking troubled. I could tell from his posture alone that something was frustrating him. "What did you find, Severus?" Minerva asked.

"It was indeed one of the creatures," he said. "It took the shape of her daughter and led her into the woods. But I cannot see past a certain point. Her memory becomes hazy. I believe her very proximity to the creature made her mind incapable of recording what took place. I was able to access her hearing, but could not see what she saw. And if her eyesight was tampered with, there is nothing I can do to alter the state of the memory."

I listened as closely as I could, but kept looking down at Andromeda's sleeping body, and found it difficult to concentrate on Severus's explanation. I felt myself tearing up. I had come to see Andromeda as a second mother, and to see her this way was disturbing and distressing. I didn't understand these beings. It wasn't fair to lure people to danger wearing the faces of their dead loved ones. It wasn't fair.

"I tried to plant a message in her mind," Severus continued. "But the usual methods were ineffective, and I could find no sign of her consciousness."

"Will she wake up?" I heard myself ask, my voice distant.

Severus did not look at me. "That is unclear."

"What is clear," Minerva said, "Is that we did not take these creatures seriously enough before. I must notify the Ministry that harm has been done."

"That would be wise," Severus agreed. "People must be warned."

But the voices were only growing fainter. I realised that the aching in my head had not completely left me alone since I'd woken from the dream, and now it had blossomed quite suddenly into a full-fledged headache. I had the instinct to set Teddy down, and placed him carefully on one of the cots before sinking to my knees and pressing my head against the edge.

"Wilma," came Severus's voice.

"I'm fine," I groaned, though I certainly was not.

"Her head's aching!" Sybill exclaimed. "Dear, it is your head, isn't it?"

Minerva quickly hushed her. I groaned, and Severus seemed to understand the confirmation in the sound. This was awful. I'd never had a headache quite like this one, and was quite certain–though I couldn't yet fully believe it–that Sybill was correct. It was a result of the dream.

Severus placed his hand on my back and through it I felt the vibration of his voice. "She needs Numbing Potion and Draught of Peace."

Of course, I thought. I felt silly for not thinking of a remedy. In moments of crisis I often felt I was meant to suffer through it, and forgot that I was a witch. An old habit ingrained from my childhood.

"I'll get it," I said, and began to stand up. But the slightest movement triggered a flare of bright white light, which filled my head and intensified the pain. I cried out and returned to the floor. A wave of nausea surged up inside of me. "I'm going… sick…" I managed, under a whisper.

Severus silently summoned something. I felt embarrassed, chills breaking out over my body as I sensed everyone watching me. I breathed slowly, allowing the feeling of Severus's hand on the back of my neck to calm me. I was relieved when the nausea passed. I would not have to vomit.

"This is a certain sign of a seer," Sybill whispered loudly.

"Please, Sybill, be silent or remove yourself," Severus said shortly.

"Don't," I moaned. It was more of a plea for silence than a reproof of Severus's tone.

Poppy and Severus silently helped me to climb up into the cot, moving Teddy so that I could lie down. Minerva transfigured another cot into a crib, and from Teddy's quietness I knew he had fallen into a deep sleep. I weakly pulled a cool sheet over my head, needing the darkness, and held my throbbing head in my hands.

There were a number of minutes of silence, which would have been total if not for the very soft footsteps which sometimes sounded against the flagstones. There was no room for thoughts, only for the pain. Soon I sensed the return of Severus's presence. He placed his hand on my back through the sheet, and I knew he had brought what I needed. Keeping my hand over my closed eyes, I let him pull away the sheet, and sat up just enough to swallow the two vials he passed into my hand.

They helped instantly.

I opened my eyes warily, blinking, and then exhaled in relief. The pain was all gone. I pushed myself up and leaned into Severus, who was knelt at my bedside, wrapping my arms around him in an embrace of gratitude.

He was a bit stiff, not responding as he would have done in private–and I realised with some embarrassment that I had briefly forgotten the presence of the others. There was silence among them, and they seemed to find the display of affection strange. I couldn't blame them–I'd have responded the same way to a woman embracing Severus Snape, if I had not been that woman myself. They averted their eyes and I drew away.

I looked at Teddy, who was indeed fast asleep, and then at Andromeda who appeared just the same, but whose state I knew was quite different.

"Is there nothing you can do?" I whispered to Severus, recalling the news which had first made me aware of the intensity of the headache.

"Not as of yet," he said. "But I will stay with her, and continue to try."

"Thank you," I said. I was thanking him not only for this promise, but also for believing me when I'd first woken up, for the way he'd responded to the situation. Andromeda and Teddy were part of my family, and for him to treat them with such care meant the world to me.

"We should send word," I said. "To Hagrid and Madam Rosmerta, so they know we're alright."

"I will attend to it. You should attempt to sleep."

I nodded. "I'll try. I need to go wash my face, and then I'll come back."

"Alright."

I left the hospital wing and went to the nearest teachers' bathroom to cool my face with water. I also let my wrists rest under the cool stream of water, the temperature deepening the effect of the Draught of Peace Severus had brought to me. Though I was no longer as anxious as before, the potion did not prevent my thoughts from drifting towards Remus.

I had been strict about the patronuses I sent to him, limiting myself to one each month, around the full moon. I decided that tonight's events made it necessary to send this month's patronus at once.

My strongest happy memory remained the day before Christmas, when the two of us had been together with Teddy in Diagon Alley. My raven flapped into existence and perched on the tap of the sink in front of me.

"Hello," I addressed it, for a moment forgetting that I was really speaking to Remus. "You need to know that Andromeda was taken by one of those creatures we saw, back in the beginning. She's sleeping, somehow, and we don't know whether she'll wake up. But Teddy is safe."

I felt my skin tightening over my knuckles as I gripped the edges of the sink. "I am more afraid for you than ever," I said. "I want you to come back, if you can. Or at least send me some word. Anything, just…"

There was a pause, in which I deeply heard the emptiness of the bathroom. I saw the outline of my reflection through the blue light of the raven, and it struck me: the terrible pain of this one-sided conversation. I realised that I had to strain to recall the sound of his voice. I could hear elements of it, but never the whole of it; never perfectly. I hung my head and started to cry.

"Why won't you come back?" I demanded through my tears. I pressed my cold wet hand to the back of my mouth. "Go," I said to the raven. "Go." And with a blink of its eye it disappeared.

My tears of sadness turned to tears of shame. Why was I still waiting for him? Pining, as Severus had cruelly but accurately put it on the night I'd found the wolves?

I could ask these questions of myself, but it didn't change the reality that I was unable to let go of my feelings for Remus. My patronus still relied upon one of the happiest moments of our relationship, and that meant something.

I tried to put the whole matter out of my mind by telling myself that Severus likely relied on a memory of Lily to conjure his own patronus.

But Lily could not show up out of the blue. Could not threaten everything Severus and I had worked for with an unforeseen return. She did not have that power. Remus did.

It should have been easy to accept that I still loved him. To accept that my heart could hold two living men within it at once. But the thought alone felt like a betrayal of Severus.

With desperate handfuls of water I cleared away my tears, the evidence of my thoughts, and did not look again into the mirror.

The faintest light was entering the sky, and I knew I would not sleep.

NOTE

The song Wilma sings to Teddy is "Do-Re-Mi" from The Sound of Music. Lyric credit to Oscar Hammerstein.