Thank you for reading! I don't own any of Harry Potter! Please let me know if you enjoy! Updates every Saturday!
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Mae continued her woeful weeping while Severus's black eyes flickered over his dangerous student.
As the uneasy tension stifled the air, Professor Snape silently vowed to choose his next words very carefully.
At last, he drawled, "Perhaps this is a conversation best shared with your parents, Miss Riddle. If you'll come with me, we can speak with the Headmaster and he'll send for-"
"-No!" Mae interrupted in a lamentful shriek as she lifted her reddened eyes to meet her professor's gaze, "They….They can't find out! My….My father….He….He can be an angry man….at times."
Severus's frown became more pronounced as he contemplated whether he should believe Mae or not, her thoughts still hidden even to his great Occlumency skills.
"He…….He may not be able to control his temper if he…..if he does find out." She sniffed.
"...And your mother?" Severus suggested, "At the very least, allow me to take you to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey could suggest what should be best done next……in a situation like this." He finished with the slightest hint of nervousness in his low voice.
Mae wiped away another set of wet, hot tears before she sighed and cleared her throat, "Forgive me, Professor Snape, I suppose I've overestimated your intuition."
Severus narrowed his dark eyes as he asked, "...I beg your pardon, Miss Riddle?"
"I've come to see you, sir, because I felt as if…..with your vast knowledge of potions….You would be….exactly the person who could offer me a…..remedy……in a situation like this, as you put it."
Mae couldn't help but be surprised when all perceived sympathy instantly flooded from his expression as an angry scowl manifested on his features.
"If that is what you seek, Miss Riddle, then I'm afraid I can offer you no help whatsoever. Should you reconsider and choose the headmaster or Madam Pomfrey, I will gladly assist." He snapped.
Mae grit her teeth as she stood from her seat.
Severus held his usual, unreadable look on his face as he nodded, "Should you acquiesce, be warned...The law restricts what may and may not be done without parental permission in regards to assisting an underage witch or wizard. Your parents will be contacted, Miss Riddle, before treatments of any kind will be administered, unless your life is in immediate danger."
"I've given you the opportunity to help me." Mae sneered at her teacher, "And this is how you respond?"
Severus narrowed his black eyes.
"Do not believe for a moment, Professor Snape, that I cannot deepen the wounds from which you already suffer." She snapped in a hateful hiss.
Severus himself couldn't resist the violent shudder that ran down his spine as Mae whirled around and rushed out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her as quickly as she had arrived.
His teeth chattered in his mouth against the unnatural, bitter cold that crept through his chambers despite the warm evening.
As Mae stomped off to take the One-Eyed Witch Passage in the middle of the night, Severus closed his eyes and sighed.
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It was simple enough.
Mae easily used her affected arm's dark fingernails to pick the lock on Honeydukes' door.
Under the light of the yellow moon, she slipped out of the vacant shop and hurriedly made her way over to Knockturn Alley, which bustled with activity at the late hour.
Her emerald eyes scanned each building's door as she hurried down the street in a frantic search, too eager to mind where she was going as she bumped into one passerby after another.
She halted once she finally noticed a sign that captured her attention.
Hope in Despair: Solutions for Weary Souls
Her fair face lit up in a bright smile as she pushed through the passing throngs of people and entered the small, dilapidated shop.
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Fifteen minutes later, Mae found herself seated at a large, black table in a large, black room, across from an ancient witch who seemed more dead than alive.
The witch's gnarled, shaking hands slowly pushed a vial of bright, green, viscous liquid towards Mae, who thoughtfully had kept her face covered with the hood of her robe.
"One drop will do it, deary." The old woman's raspy voice crackled from her throat, "A single drop…….and your problem will vanish into the night wind."
"A single drop." Mae nodded before she added with a sob, "Oh, you have no idea how grateful I am!"
"Death is not a gift given freely." The old woman frowned, "We have yet to discuss payment."
"What payment?" Mae snapped.
The woman gestured towards the vial, "I'm afraid every solution comes with a price, deary, live as long as I have and you'll learn that well enough!"
"Alright." Mae said as she cleared her throat and forced herself to stay calm, "I haven't any money with me. I'll be able to get some if you can give me a day or two."
"Money is worthless to me." The witch replied as a sound between a squeak and a gasp left her throat, "...I'd rather have a bit of your youth."
"A bit of my…..what?" Mae frowned.
"Just a bit, deary." The old witch smiled, "A little of you will let me live in-"
"-Fine." Mae interrupted, "How is it done?"
"Your hand." The witch smiled, letting her broken, rotted teeth gleam in the sliver of moonlight that streamed in through the room's only window.
Mae frowned as she laid her unaffected arm down on the table, palm up, knuckles touching the wood.
"Your other hand." The witch nodded, "It's always the other one."
Mae sighed as she switched her arms.
"What's that glove for, deary?" The witch smiled as she bent over Mae's affected arm like a dog waiting to eat a bone.
"I have a……unique…..issue." Mae frowned, "It's always been this way, but I'm not looking for any help with that."
Curious, the witch reached out, pushed Mae's sleeve up, and dared to peel her thick, black glove away.
Mae blinked as she watched the old woman gaze at her rotting limb.
The old witch narrowed her eyes at the black streaks that covered Mae's veins and traveled towards her shoulder like creeping vines.
A scowl crossed Mae's face as the woman leaned down and breathed in the foul scent that rose from that decomposing filth before she released her customer, sat back, and sighed.
"...The payment?" Mae asked.
"Already received." The old witch replied with a toothy grin.
Mae's jaw dropped in curious awe as she watched the hideous hag transform right in front of her into a beautiful, young woman who could have easily won any contest that measured physical attractiveness.
From her long, blonde hair to her bright blue eyes, the old witch was unrecognizable as she giggled at Mae, "My, my, my dear! How exquisite! You're welcome back anytime! I don't think I've ever encountered someone so deliciously corrupted by the Dark Arts as you!"
As Mae walked out of the shop, still pondering what she had seen, she glanced down at her gloved arm as she tucked the vial into her pocket.
The idea intrigued her.
What other uses could she find for her affected arm?
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Mark frowned as he stared down at the letter he had received from his brother a few minutes prior.
His eyes narrowed as he read over the lines one more time.
Mark,
She knows. I think she does anyway, she's been really weird, too sweet, too many smiles. Brother, this is important! I'm counting on you! Protect Mum, stay beside her, at least until I can get home. Please…….This is our last hope.
Can't wait to see you at Christmas,
James T. Riddle
"What's the matter, love?" Harriet's voice interrupted Mark's careful brooding.
"Oh, nothing, Mum!" He said as he quickly hid his fears behind a bright smile.
His happy expression inspired a similar one on Harriet's face as she bent down and pulled her little boy in for a tight hug.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, he'll be home soon." Harriet whispered as she kissed Mark's head.
"I know…..He asked me to look after you until he comes back." Mark nodded as Harriet released him, "Which I will, of course, you can depend on me!"
Harriet chuckled as she rustled his hair lovingly, "That's very sweet, love. For now, let's just focus on breakfast, eh? Your father should be down soon."
Neither Harriet nor Mark realized that Tom had watched the entire scene from the doorway.
Instead of his usual hateful sneer, he studied his youngest son closely.
Despite Mark's many disappointing shortcomings, he couldn't help but admire his dedication to protect Harriet.
Nausea turned Tom's stomach as he realized that for the first time, he saw a glimmer of himself in his little boy.
