Chapter 9

"One of the most important decisions you'll ever face in life is choosing whether to walk away or try harder." - Ziad Abdelnour

Over the next week, Severus and Rebecca fell into an easy nightly routine. She made her appearance in the Potions classroom sometime after curfew – around midnight, or soonafter, if she was otherwise occupied. He would stroll in a few minutes later – always after she'd arrived– to her cauldron bubbling and her quill scritching across parchment, adding onto her extensive notes. They would nod their hellos in the other's direction when he passed her on the way to his desk, where an endless pile of assignments remained waiting to be graded. Not once did she question why he didn't just take such a menial task to his private office, and he was glad for it. They would proceed to work, for the next two hours or so, in companionable silence – each lost in their own world. It was as close to bliss as Severus dared hope to achieve.

On Friday night, she at last spoke, shattering the enjoyable quietude with desperate murmurings.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! No… no, don't you dare."

Over a decade of teaching had finely tuned his ears to potential disaster in the classroom. Severus' eyes snapped up and toward her. With a slow hand, he put down the quill he was holding and rose from his seat. The witch wore a murderous expression (that was rather impressive for one so kind and agreeable), her wand cutting through the air above her cauldron as she worked to stabilize the adverse reaction spilling over the sides. His nose detected danger first – the soft and subtle notes of lavender he'd come to associate with her research was gradually being overwhelmed by the scent of sulfur and rancid dragon's blood.

He crept near her, in full Professor Mode, ready to lunge and stop her concoction from exploding all over her and the rest of the room.

"Stay back!" she yelled, putting up a hand as though that would stop his advance.

"Rebecca –"

"I've got it!"

And he was forced to trust her, otherwise he risked breaking her concentration and inadvertently making the situation worse. She muttered spell after spell, incantations flowing from her mouth like song. Severus had to admit it would have been mesmerizing to watch, had her position not been so precarious. He stood but a few meters from her bench, wand poised to vanish her potion the moment it began combusting.

Except… it didn't.

By some miracle, with the addition of some subtle charms and lionfish spines, Rebecca had been able to save her experiment; the scent of sulfur disappeared to be replaced by lavender once again, and she flashed a triumphant, yet shaky grin in his direction.

"Told you I had it," she breathed heavily, putting it on stasis and sinking into a chair.

Severus said nothing, instead coming close enough to peer over the side of her cauldron. The potion was unassuming – white, cloudy, with a viscous nature. Even this close, the lavender wasn't too overwhelming to his keen olfactory sense; he found himself inhaling just the slightest bit. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Rebecca watching, awaiting his critique or advice, or perhaps even praise for saving her own volatile creation. He would give her none of that satisfaction. Although, he was awfully curious…

"What… are you working on back here?"

She flushed. "It's… um, well…"

He sighed with feigned impatience, crossing his arms dramatically. He had to bite back his smirk as she visibly bristled. "If I – and the rest of the school,for that matter – will be at risk due to your… experimentation.. then I, the resident Potions Master, deserve to know what the hell it is you're brewing back here."

Indignant, she stood up so that they were at almost the same height. The scowl she wore couldn't frighten a kitten, and yet, he felt the force of her magic sparking around them. It pressed in on him, ceasing just as it began.

"This research is sanctioned by Erinlẹ's," she said, crossing her arms – mirroring his own stance back at him. Curious little thing.

"I never claimed that it was not," he replied neutrally.

That seemed to make her drop her guard a little. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed before her arms swung to her sides.

"I'm trialing an antidote for Hearteater Virus," she said without looking at him. "A cure."

Severus wished she would look at him.

"That… has already been attempted once before."

"I know."

"The results were… less than savory."

"I know."

He followed her gaze to the potion, milky and still. Her expression was one of contemplation, like she was trying to figure out what went wrong during this trial. She appeared… exhausted. Severus frowned. And she had the audacity to speak ill of his sleeping habits. Perhaps darkened under-eyes were what she was trying to conceal with her glamours – but no. When it was visible in all its shimmering glory, the glamour spell stretched the length of her face, winding down her neck, fanning out across her shoulders, and crawling between the crease in her bosom.

"Do you have a personal stake in these trials?"

Finally, she looked up, kind eyes smiling at him while the muscles around her mouth remained too tired to do the work. Behind those brown eyes – relief that he wasn't calling her foolish for pursuing such a fruitless endeavor. She knew, perhaps better than he, that the fatal illness would never see a working cure in their lifetime just due to the unpredictable nature of the disease. The "cure" Cor Cordis had been an insane endeavor to fix what couldn't be fixed, and anyone who sought anything more than long-term palliative or hospice care was seriously deluding themselves. Rebecca Kakudō did not strike him as delusional in any capacity, so she had to have known someone who succumbed to the gruesome fate.

"Perhaps." She answered his question with an air of mystery, punctuated by despair, that same ghost of a smile playing at her lips.

Much later that night, after he and Rebecca had parted ways, Severus sat in front of the hearth in his private sitting room. He stared into the fire, contemplating the last several hours; he should've been getting to sleep, as he had a long day ahead of him… but he just couldn't shake the irritating fragment of sympathy he'd picked up at the deep sadness in her eyes. A small scowl deepened the lines of his face – he had far too much on his plate to pile on more. And yet… there remained a strong desire to know if the person she'd lost to the Hearteater Virus was her father, or someone else? He wanted to help her in her research, although she certainly didn't need it, and no amount of experimentation would yield a cure. Ever.

Severus sipped his drink pensively, wondering if the wizard he'd seen with her at the Three Broomsticks knew she was carrying around with her a great deal of sorrow. Surely he had to, as they'd seemed quite familiar – and it could account for that strange interaction of theirs he'd witnessed. Still, Severus got the sense that she was going at the worst of it alone.

So? Who gives a damn? he thought to himself mulishly. But, the more he tried to dismiss it, the deeper he was pulled into thinking about her. Rebecca was.. Lily's... opposite in nearly every way. And yet, he still could not recount a time where he'd been so captivated by the presence of another beyond the first time he'd met his late best friend.

Late former best friend.

Thoughts of her were almost unmanageable, even now, nearly fourteen years after her death. That he'd inadvertently played one of the biggest roles in getting her killed was something he'd have to live with for the rest of his pathetic existence. He gulped his drink, stewing in his own shortcomings. There was a reason why he didn't do friendships – his personality was not well-suited for them. He'd done horrible, amoral things – on his own, and in the name of others – and he was likely to do many more. Caring about someone enough to keep them from getting caught in the crossfire was a weakness he couldn't afford as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

He stood abruptly, trying to push his irritating thoughts of Rebecca and Lily aside. Sleep. He needed sleep. Following regular classes tomorrow was the first formal staff meeting of the year, taking place a week before the First Task, as the Triwizard Tournament was set to begin on the 24th. Severus imagined most of the meeting would be the old man blathering on and on about the safety of the students (whom he himself had endangered, again, for the hundredth time).

The giant squid drifted by Severus' window, tentacles trailing in a gentle locomotion. Its bioluminescent organs flashed brightly in the dark waters of the Black Lake. Severus ran an anxious hand through his hair, but drew closer to the window all the same. With each step, he steadied his breathing, and by the time he'd reached the giant squid – which still trailed lazily by his window – he was utterly impassive once again. He put a hand against the glass as the creature spun and slipped even deeper into the inky black, its giant eye making brief contact with the Slytherin Head of House.

"Goodnight, old friend," he murmured, following suit and turning away from the window at a weary pace. He would not dream that night.

The dawn came too soon, and with it, the obligations of the day. Severus dressed in his customary black robes and made his way to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. The routine was painfully familiar: the scraping of chairs against the stone floor, the low hum of morning chatter, the clinking of cutlery. He barely tasted the food on his plate, each bite mechanical and devoid of pleasure. The students were abuzz with excitement, chattering about the upcoming tasks and the foreign guests in their midst.

Later, Severus' prior presumption that the majority of the staff meeting would be Dumbledore talking at them was quickly proven correct, as the headmaster droned on and on about the tournament. He was currently informing his teaching staff that the champions would be pulled out of class in the upcoming week – joy – to do something or other in preparation for these asinine games. The dour Potions Master sat, cross-armed, next to the other House Heads at a circular table in an unused classroom off the Transfiguration Courtyard. The room had been converted into a much larger staff room for their assembly. Sitting adjacent to Minerva, Pomona, Flitwick, and himself were the other professors – Hagrid, Trelawney, and Binns, who was fast asleep. To his right were Moody, Babbling, Burbage, Sinistra, Hooch, and Vector; to Vector's immediate left was Rebecca, which placed her directly across from him somehow. She sat amongst the remainder of faculty, taking up seating near Argus and Pince. Severus was determined to not make eye contact with her at all during this sorry excuse for a meeting. Hell, he wouldn't even look in her direction.

Finally, they were moving on from the topic of the Triwizarding Tournament, but not before Dumbledore enlisted his assistance in brewing a potion for the upcoming task. The floor was then turned over to the Heads of Houses, half of which still had questions about the blasted tournament.

"I'm afraid you'll just wait in anticipation with the rest of your peers, Professor McGonagall," the old man said, some sort of twisted, self-satisfied smile playing at his lips beneath his beard as he addressed concern relating to the possibility of dragons in one of the trials. He had that maddening twinkle in his eye that always had the tendency to turn Severus' stomach.

"Now – how are our Head Boy and Girl handling their duties thus far?" A clear attempt to move the conversation along.

Severus risked a glance at Rebecca, who remained oddly impassive. Neutral. He frowned. Then, with an internal jolt, he remembered he wasn't supposed to be looking at her.

What was it about her that drew his eye to her person?

To his greatest misfortune, the floor was soon opened up to the rest of the teachers and staff. There was the usual whingeing about the students' handwriting – "A grammar course for the first years, at least, please!" – along with customary tangential speeches from both Argus and Hagrid.

Pomona gestured to grab Rebecca's attention, the action not going unnoticed by Severus' sharp eye.

"Is Justin Finch-Fletchley set to be released from the infirmary soon?"

"Tomorrow," the Healer smiled.

"Run-in with a Venomous Tentacula," Pomona clarified to the room, to which a few nodded in understanding. "Hopefully he's learned his lesson and won't go turning his back on them anymore!"

Amid chuckles and titters, Dumbledore spoke, "Ah, yes – Healer Kakudō! Professor Moody and yourself are our newest hires this year. We would like to know how you both are settling in."

It seemed inappropriate now to not look at her.

She'd paled considerably, having been put on the spot out in the open as all eyes were on her. Severus nearly laughed outright at the expression on her face. Moody grunted an answer that he barely heard, so intent was he on watching the little deer in headlights stutter out a reply.

"It – I'm settling in very well, thank you, Headmaster."

"Excellent! And I hear you've got the Hospital Wing running like a 'well-oiled machine' as the Muggles say."

At this, she laughed, some of the tension leaving her body. Severus' eye traveled the subtle lines around her smile down to her shoulders that were once again relaxed. She wore a tawny-colored robe and under it, Muggle clothing. He'd noted her interesting choice of attire from the moment he'd entered the room, trying to decide whether he liked the way her dark denims hugged her feminine curves.

That was when he'd decided it would be wise to divert his attention elsewhere – anywhere at all during the course of this insufferable staff meeting.

"Word travels fast around here," said Rebecca. "Fortunately, I'm used to that. Yes, Headmaster, we are operating quite efficiently. I appreciate you allowing me to implement a new system in the infirmary."

"As long as the students and, perhaps more importantly, their parents" – here, a majority of the room chuckled – "have no complaints, you are welcome to implement as many systems as you please, Healer Kakudō."

Close to three hours later, after everyone felt their matter had been addressed, the first faculty meeting of the school year came to an end. Though the gathering was technically adjourned, people still milled about, enjoying the tea and cakes sent up from the kitchens by the house elves. Severus rose from his seat, seeing a path to the exit and taking it before anyone named Minerva could stop him. As he slipped from the room, his eye caught Rebecca's. They glittered like gold – she appeared thoroughly entertained by Hagrid's antics, huddled next to him with Vector and a few others. During their brief moment of eye contact, she raised a slender hand to wave goodbye. He did not return it.

The rest of the week dragged on. There was a collective holding of breath as everyone from all three schools awaited the First Task. Severus thought he was doing rather well amid all the anxiety and mayhem… up until a scuffle outside of his classroom resulted in painful boils for one of his Slytherins and a jinxed Granger, of all students. He wanted to give Draco a swift knock upside the head for initiating the madness in the first place with the childish Potter Stinks badges; but Granger was Muggleborn, in Potter's inner circle of friends, and many of the students present were the spawn of Death Eaters – he had to play his part, save face, and send her on her way to the Hospital Wing in tears, sporting new teeth that would make a beaver jealous.

He didn't even have time to think about the implications of that before Double Potions was being interrupted and Potter was being whisked away on some unknown assignment by Colin Creevey.

"Get out of my sight!" Severus snapped at the two children, and they scampered off, nearly shoving each other to get out of the dungeons.

By the end of regular classes, around four o'clock or so, Severus was in a deeply sour mood. He hated being left in the dark, and the headmaster wasn't in any way forthcoming about Potter's whereabouts during his lessons. He'd been spoon-fed some tripe about "necessary traditions" before storming off in a huff. He was annoyed, exhausted, and plagued with his usual hunger pains – on his way to search for a library tome when he was yet again accosted by Igor Karkaroff in the corridors. A sharp, irritated sigh was on the edge of Severus' tongue.

"Severus, my friend…"

"Not today, Igor." And we are anything but friends.

"Severus, please – we cannot continue to delay this discussion –"

"There is no discussion to be had, Karkaroff." Extra venom laced his words, as several students were still swarming about, preparing for study hall. And he had absolutely no clue where that lunatic Mad-Eye Moody was lurking this time of day.

For once, Karkaroff seemed to take the hint, and instead pivoted his attention towards a few of his Durmstrang students who were causing a ruckus with Draco nearby. Severus took the opportunity to slither away in the direction of the dungeons, making a sound decision to put off his library needs until later that night while relishing the thought of his godson being chewed out by the Bulgarian headmaster. At the back of his mind – renewed anxiety about the Dark Mark that stained the skin of his forearm beneath his buttoned sleeve. The Mark showed no sign of lightening up, or fading. It seemed… stagnant now. Which wasn't necessarily better or worse, and for that small favor, he was thankful.

"Hey – hey!"

Severus whipped around, a snarl on the tip of his tongue that died at once when he was greeted with burning amber eyes and flapping mediwitch robes. Her magic sparked around her in apparent outrage. What –?

"I SEE NO DIFFERENCE?"

Oh. Right.

She'd caught him in a corridor just off the Entrance Hall, where no students were present. Fortunate because she was quite scary when angry, as short as she was, and Severus found himself taking just the smallest step back. He immediately scolded himself and glared at her to save face.

"Are those really the words you used towards a fifteen year old girl who was jinxed at the start of your lesson?"

"How I choose to discipline my students is none of your concern."

"That wasn't discipline. That was cruelty."

He did not like the way in which she was looking at him – like he'd had so much to prove to her, and just like that, the opportunity was ruined. If only he could tell her how Dumbledore had him playing a part; and then, he forced himself to be brutally honest within his own mind. How much of what he'd said and done to his students was fulfilling the role forced upon him, and how much was his… cruelty.. simply misplaced spite?

Severus could not be so sure anymore, after all these years. The lines had become so blurred, and it's not like he'd ever wanted to begin teaching in the first place. He hated children.

Rebecca saw the calculating measure behind his eyes. He tried to hide the weariness he felt, trapped within this position but found that, despite years of doing so, he did not want to hide. He wanted her to recognize what was going on beyond all pretense.

"You know Hermione Granger did not deserve that treatment."

He bowed his head ever so slightly, willing her to see through the facade. He was oh, so tired of this.

"Granger is an insufferable know-it-all," he snapped without malice. "If she weren't running her mouth, inserting herself in situations where she doesn't belong, she would not have to endure yet another extended stay in the Hospital Wing."

She snorted in disbelief, a sound that made his eye twitch.

"Have some class!"

"I will gain some once you do," he said, snorting back at her to punctuate his point.

"I am not the one traumatizing children for kicks!"

For kicks? "You would know all about doing things for kicks, wouldn't you?" he said, raising his voice hotheadedly. There was another voice, separate from his own and at the forefront of his brain, screaming at him to stop – but, like an imbecile, he blundered on. "Sauntering around the castle with glamours covering half your body to hide – gods forbid – acne or blisters or scars or whatever else. For kicks. Please. Bodily imperfections – blemishes, for Circe's sake – we are all in possession of them – you aren't nearly as special as you believe yourself to be!"

Her face was positively homicidal. Clearly, he'd gone too far, but it was too late. He couldn't take back the words, much as he now wanted to. Her glamours triggered him in ways he was not able to explain; perhaps it was because he could conceal his one glaring imperfection by neither magical nor Muggle means. Glamours made the Mark protest painfully, and makeup simply slid right off. He was stuck with the ugly tattoo for as long as he lived. And it only seemed right to bring up her glamours again when they were taking jabs at each other.

Well, in the moment, it seemed right.

"Are you done?" she asked softly, glaring him down. Without giving him a chance to respond, she continued, "I've reported your mistreatment of Hermione Granger to the headmaster. Although I don't expect it to go further than a reprimand, considering Hermione is refusing to speak up and taking into account your tenure, I just want to make it very clear between you and I – I believe you deserve suspension. Maybe even worse."

And then, straightening her shoulders, seeming to stand taller, Rebecca turned on her heel and marched away. Severus stood, dumbfounded, any snarky reply he could've formed currently escaping his mind along with his exceptional reasoning skills. The audacity… the cheek of this witch to… speak the truth.

Severus released clenched fists he hadn't known were balled. He sighed, a sharp exhale through his nostrils. He felt hollow. His body, rooted to the spot, recalled this emotion, though he couldn't quite place any specific memory. He watched her go, white mediwitch robes trailing angrily in her wake. He wanted to call her back, to explain his position without any deflection, but quickly smothered that feeling – that incessant need to apologize. No friendships. Now, more than ever. Kakudō was a colleague, nothing more, and defending himself to her was unnecessary, especially if he wanted to avoid advancing their relationship beyond mere coworkers.

With that thought, Severus strode quickly away from the scene of his transgressions. This time, he allowed his head to fall a bit, lank hair obscuring his view as it often had when he was a child. He thought to seek out Potter – goad him into giving his professor lip, so that he could take a sizable amount of house points – but the hollow feeling in his chest simply expanded at the thought. And so, he quickened his pace to his chambers.

In the days leading up to the Triwizarding Tournament's First Task, Severus keenly felt R–Kakudō's absence. From the dungeons. He'd grown accustomed to the gentle lavender scent, the bubbling, the constant scritch-scratch of her quill against parchment while he worked through grading all the various assignments on his desk. Truth be told, he was hardly able to keep up with his own personal side projects this year, so he may have been living a little vicariously through the mediwitch and her research. Now, though, he sat alone at his desk well after curfew – the same as he'd done many times in many years since before her arrival. And still, he could not rid himself of the sting. On the third evening she did not return to her research in the Potions classroom, he'd grown frustrated with his own worthless pining – with hoping – and moved his grading back to his private office. Away from the scrutiny of the public eye, just how he liked it.

Severus stared at the essay before him – some third year drivel on the poisonous properties of Shrinking Solution – until the words began muddling and meshing together, and the red ink dried up within the nib of his quill. He refused to admit he missed her – perhaps he missed the passive engagement in her research, or maybe he just missed the multisensory experience of two advanced potioneers working in the same room (even if the "work" of one consisted only of testing brews made by his students).

But he could not, under any circumstance, miss her.

That would mean admitting to himself that he wanted to be more than colleagues. And that veered dangerously into friendship territory. Little else on this earth terrified the man. He sighed and put down his quill, but not before refilling the nib and slashing a crimson D near the top of the hopelessly deplorable essay. Glancing at the slender grandfather clock in the corner of his office – and noticing this would be around the time he and R… Kakudō would often take a brief recess in their activities for tea before getting back at it – Severus finally decided to turn in for the evening. He was annoyed by his own wandering thoughts, made even more annoying by the fact that he was an accomplished Occlumens. It was ironic, really, how his own mind was what tired him out the most. He could hardly ever shut the damn thing off when he wasn't actively Occluding. Like right now, when he was unable to shake the thought of just how… angry her face had been earlier. No, anger wasn't the best word to describe it. Disgust.

Severus realized, in hindsight, Rebecca had been completely disgusted with him and his actions.

He told himself he didn't care – couldn't care – all the way down to his bedchambers. While he pulled on his nightshirt and trousers. As he chugged the All-Nutrition on his bedside table before climbing tiredly into bed. He could not care that she'd reported him to Dumbledore for mistreating a muggleborn student no more than he couldn't care if she was skipping meals in the Great Hall.

Eventually, Severus had to resort to rudimentary meditation exercises to quiet his racing mind. He lay in bed, eyes closed, but sleep (as it oft happened) refused to come. He tossed and turned for what felt like an entire hour.

"Fuck me," he hissed, rising up and throwing the covers back.

RK + SS

She was brewing – of course she was. Severus had come to realize she enjoyed the art of potion-making almost as much as he did. Perhaps even equally so.

He stepped further in the – he quickly scanned the beds up and down the wing – empty infirmary. Even though she did not look up from her cauldron, propped on a little travel workbench beside her desk, he knew she felt his presence. Their magic reached out toward one another tentatively before retreating. He drew nearer, dark eyes dancing over the heavy circles beneath her eyes and the mass of curls piled high atop her head. She squinted, and it registered with Severus that she was counting stirs. He inhaled subtly, hoping to once again breathe in sweet lavender… but lavender was not what he received. Instead, his sensitive nose was assaulted by the pungent scent of cooked dragon horn.

Dreamless Sleep –?

She stopped stirring, at last, turning the fire down under her cauldron before she sat the rod on the tabletop with a sharp SNAP. Finally, she looked at him, glaring, mollified only by his poor state of dress.

"What do you want?"

Ah.

"To apologize."

Kakudō stared at him skeptically. "It's the dead of night. And you're in your bed clothes. Morning seems like a more reasonable time to have this discussion."

It… could not wait until morning. He found, with a knife in his gut, that he actually cared about this annoying little mediwitch and what she thought of him. He could handle her anger – that, he could do. But he could not come to terms with disgust, not after all of those evenings spent in the dungeon classroom. He had the choice to speak now… or, not at all. By morning, all of his nerve will have fled with his good senses.

"I would like – I need to apologize for the hurtful things that I said."

She regarded him with careful eyes now, glare fading just a bit. She picked up her wand and cast a stasis over the draught before coming round the bench so that there was even less space between them.

"Why were you so cruel to Hermione Granger?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I…" That's what was bothering her? He had to admit, it was needlessly hurtful what he'd said to the girl, but it paled in comparison to the vitriol he'd hurled at the mediwitch personally.

"An adolescent muggleborn witch of color is already facing plenty enough adversity as is at this school without having a bully for a professor."

He gulped inaudibly and allowed his shoulders to sag just the tiniest bit. Dumbledore would surely have his head for this.

"You are right.

"I – y-yes. I know I am, thank you."

"As much as I want to, I cannot take those words back. And Miss Granger will probably carry those emotional scars inflicted upon me well into her adulthood." Though not those teeth, thank Merlin. Their matron had done a stellar job with Granger's bucktoothed overbite, shrinking the enlarged, beaver-like teeth until they aligned with the rest. No longer could he refer to her as the Bucktooth Brat of the Golden Trio. Duo. Whatever the hell they were these days.

"She will," Kakudō nodded solemnly. "So you can see why apologizing to me first would rub me the wrong way?"

"I see." He steeled himself. "I, unfortunately, cannot apologize to Miss Granger."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I am… not in a position to do so." Read between my lines, I am begging you!

Kakudō shifted, no doubt aware there was a gross amount of context she was missing. Her brow furrowed, as if trying to work it out.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if I were to apologize to Miss Granger, it would… alter certain perceptions of me. It is something I cannot afford. I can offer her silent praise, continue to acknowledge her academic efforts in my classroom, and give her the grades she deserves… but I cannot, under any condition. Apologize. To. Her."

That was it. That was all he was able to share with her without totally exposing himself, and even this was perhaps too much information. His mind raced, thinking of worst case scenarios, and how he'd respond if Dumbledore demanded an Obliviate. The Order had… disposed of people before, witch and wizard alike – mostly those with malicious intent, who'd gone under the radar of the Ministry. Followers of the Dark Lord that existed on the fringes of society but still knew too much to keep their memories, or their lives. Neither of which was a possibility here, was it? His mantra of No Friendships returned with full force, but it was too late now.

He expected her to rage a little more. And maybe demand that he provide clarity, but she did no such thing. Her eyes shined with fierce intelligence as she absorbed his sincerity. Perhaps she was busy putting two and two together. He desperately hoped so.

"Perceptions?" she repeated in a whisper. Brown eyes darted to his arm (the wrong one, bless her), and she released a shaky breath. She did it. She'd solved one part of this convoluted, multidimensional puzzle. It was dangerous, alluding to his secrets out in the open like this, but it felt equally as dangerous leaving the Hospital Wing without finishing this conversation.

"Professor Dumbledore would be very… displeased if he were to find out I was here tonight," he murmured, nodding in acknowledgment, refusing to break eye contact.

He saw the click in her eyes as she registered the larger implication of that statement. Learning his true allegiance, in spite of the wretched blemish on his arm, caused her mouth to form a small "oh" of… surprise? Her expression changed many times in the span of a few seconds. Before she could ask any damning questions, he held up a hand.

"Say nothing. The walls here have eyes and ears."

She made another face – it seemed he'd be getting the full range tonight – and jutted her hip out, propping it on her desk. She was frustrated. What exactly was frustrating her? Severus wanted to find out, but could not risk asking those same types of questions.

"So… you can't apologize to her. Fine. Let's circle back around to what you said to me."

His jaw twitched a little in irritation. Hadn't he already apologized? Wasn't he here, in his bloody nightclothes, apologizing and explaining his actions – what more did she want from him? He would never fall over himself begging for forgiveness ever again, after how that turned out last time –

"Don't give me that," the mediwitch snapped at his soured look. "You come marching in here well after midnight, days after the incident, to apologize for some very hurtful things you said to me – you're going to do it properly!"

So taken aback was Severus that he muttered an additional "I'm sorry" almost on impulse. Sighing sharply, he swiped one hand down his face. He really was utterly miserable at this. He forged on, before she could scoff in his face. "It was wrong of me to assume the reason for your glamours – not to mention, incredibly poor etiquette. You do not have to explain why you need them because, frankly, it is not anyone's business but your own. I was rude, crass, and belligerent, and I can only hope you'll accept my apology now. Although it would not surprise me if you did not."

The glare on her face had softened entirely as he spoke, though she now seemed hesitant for some reason. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder, but they were still the only people in the Hospital Wing. Great. Even when he was being the most sincere he's ever been, he still couldn't apologize correctly.

"Perhaps I should leave…"

"No, wait!" she cried, grabbing his hand as he turned to go. Severus dared not look in her glowing eyes, and instead gazed at their joined hands before she withdrew hers, taking the warmth with it. He retracted his as well, as though burned.

"You want to know what's hidden beneath my glamours?"

Severus did not hesitate, taking a chance and raising his eyes to meet her own.

"Yes."

Rebecca brandished her wand, shutting the infirmary doors and locking them in. She then pointed the instrument at herself, and at her whispered "Finite" all the glamours melted away like liquid.

The ancient runes upon her body appeared at once, and it seemed she was covered in the little tattoos all over. Runes materialized on her fingers, climbing her wrists and arms, and vanishing under her robes. Most striking were the runes on her face – none of which he'd ever come across in his time of study. They curved around her features in delicate patterns, tracing high cheekbones and stretching the length of her neck. Upon closer inspection, Severus realized that each rune was part of a different set that together told… a story?

His eyes widened further when he finally understood. She'd not inflicted this upon herself… he'd only ever read about witches and wizards like her in passing. Never did he think he'd actually come across someone like her in his lifetime.

"Vītālinare," he whispered.

"Yes." She nodded, almost sadly, studying the runes on the back of her hand. "Among other names."

How many people had she healed? How many visions was she cursed with – each one described in excruciating detail upon her body? Apparently, she'd experienced much death in her relatively short life. There were runes that spoke of… torture. Drowning. Filicide and other horrible, murderous acts.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, Severus' heart spasmed in his chest.

"I will accept your apology," she said softly, "if you promise to never mention my glamours again."

He nodded solemnly, much of the confusion he'd felt towards her falling away to reveal… admiration. Endearment. And a familiarity in one another that transcended this plane – something he thought long lost.

"I swear it."

A/N: Read more about the Hearteater Virus and Cor Cordis over at the Monster Blog of Monsters on Tumblr! Give their blog lots of love if you decide to peruse.

Vītālinare is pronounced wheat - al - in - are - ay, or whatever you're able to say aloud/in your head *shrug*