CHAPTER 49

My heart weighs heavily in my chest as I make my way back to the Slytherin Dungeon, an almost overwhelming temptation telling me to return to Snape's office and ensure McGonagall can help him. Will he be all right now? Since when do I care so much about his wellbeing? He's with McGonagall, I tell myself, so of course he's fine now. I take a deep breath and enter the common room. Daphne is upon me immediately, pulling me toward the sofas where the rest of my friends sit. "Where have you been?" she asks me, positioning herself in such a way that I would have to push past her to get off the sofa and escape.

"What do you—"

"Charlotte," Christopher says sternly, watching me with an intense gaze.

"Fine. I was having private lessons with Snape."

"Through lunch and dinner?" Astoria asks. "Why would he keep you that long?"

I frown. "Was it really that long? Merlin, no wonder I'm starving. Daphne, do you have any more sweets?"

"My stash is only for people who don't lie to their friends," she says with a snarky smile. "And currently you aren't on that list, are you?"

"I promise you, if I could have come back and given up on the lessons, I would have, but he wouldn't let me quit."

"What kind of lessons are they?"

I sigh, the thought of Snape's blood on my clothes bringing a deep ache into my chest and threatening to make me cry. He could have died. When did he start meaning so much to me that the mere thought of his death makes me want to lie down and cry? What if he's not all right? What if something happens to him because you were foolish enough not to go get help when he so obviously needed it? What if he dies and it's all your fault? What if you lose him because you kept quiet when you should have found help? I won't be able to live with myself if he doesn't pull out of this. No, he simply has to be all right. I push down my fearful thoughts and look around the room to see how close others—not my friends—are sitting and whether they might be able to hear me. Then I look back at my friends and lower my voice to something just hardly over a whisper, "Occlumency."

"What's that?" Ella asks.

I clear my throat. "It's a way to control your mind, to keep people from seeing thoughts you don't want them to see. Professor Snape is very skilled at it, and he's teaching me."

Daphne watches me closely, but it's Jacob who asks, "Why? Why do you need to learn something like that?"

I lean heavily back against the sofa and lock my fingers together, unwilling to look at any of them. "I can't really get into it."

"And that's what your private lessons have been this whole time?" Christopher asks.

"Yeah. But I don't want to talk about it anymore; it was difficult and upsetting, and it's emotionally taxing and draining, and I'm not doing well right now. Can we move on? What've you all been up to today?"

Whether because of the small crack in my voice or the tears blurring my vision—he will be fine, he will not die—they do not question me anymore. They humor me and begin telling me all about their days, and despite being so incredibly grateful to all of them, I can't listen to a single word they say. My mind keeps drifting back to the Liquid Luck and Snape's blood on the floor and splattered against me and his sickly appearance and his weakness from the potion and his delusions. He could have died. He could have killed me.

He could've died. He could've died.

I almost lost him. I almost lost him.

The selfish part of me regrets Vanishing the potion because I'm sure, given enough time, Snape would've been able to correct the modifications to make it useful. And now, he can't. Because I wasted it. I Vanished it, and now I'm out of time. I have four months—four months—until Voldemort takes me captive. That potion takes at least six months to brew. There's literally nothing I can do to get away from him. I've ruined my one chance to get away from Voldemort. I'm going to be a slave, and it's all my fault.

I'm such an idiot.

And besides ruining my own life, I've most likely ruined whatever strained, strange friendship I have with Snape. He'll hate you forever now. Will he actually forgive me for what I've done? Or will he resent me for destroying a potion that he'd been brewing for four months, a potion he needed so desperately that he took it without testing how the modifications were working, if they were working? He was so desperate for some good luck that the took the risk and almost died. How could he ever forgive me for just . . . wasting all his hard work like that?

I sit in silence for the next few hours while my friends talk and play games and do homework. The potion is gone. My freedom is gone. My future is gone. And it's all because I'm irrational and I'm stupid and I Vanished the one chance I had at escaping my terrible fate.

Now Snape sits in his office—maybe McGonagall got him to the hospital wing, maybe she didn't—and he's in some sort of trouble and possibly getting worse because I didn't go to the hospital wing, I didn't alert any of the other professors. If he dies, it's your fault. It's going to be all your fault if something happens to him. What will you tell the Dark Lord? How will you explain that you let Severus Snape die? I let him die.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. If Snape dies, I honestly have no idea what I'd do. I need him. And what's more surprising is that I would miss him terribly. I cannot imagine what it'd be like at Hogwarts without him. Who else would fill the role in my life that he's taken over? A begrudging friend, a mentor, a guide through dealing with Death Eaters. No one can fill his shoes. He has quite literally become the single most important person in my life. Yes, I have friends and Fred and my mum now, but Snape? He's irreplaceable. I could make more friends, date someone else, have a mother figure like Mrs. Stoico or McGonagall. But a mentor, someone who knows everything about me and who is helping me brace for my duty to the Dark Lord and who has been in a similar position with the Death Eaters and the Order? There's no one else in this world who could ever step into my life in the same capacity. Snape has to live. I need him to live.

At long last, the first-years grow tired and whisper their goodnights to the rest of us, and I'm that much closer to being able to sneak back out of the common room and go check on Snape again. Half an hour after the first-years have gone to bed, Grant says goodnight as well and disappears up the stairs to his dormitory. Still, I have not moved from this spot on the sofa.

Daphne taps my leg. "Are you all right?" she says quietly.

I shrug. "I'm just—I don't know. Not really."

"It's getting late," Astoria says, "should we go to sleep?"

"I'm not very tired."

Daphne narrows her eyes at me, the look on her face betraying her disbelief in my words. "Occlumency—a skill used to keep people out of your mind—doesn't wear you out?"

I glance at her but keep my face stoic even though tears pool in my eyes. "It's really hard to explain. I don't want to get into this right now, if that's all right with you."

"Yeah, that's fine," she says, but the tone in her voice implies otherwise. She's too curious to let this go so easily. "But I'm exhausted, so I'm going upstairs. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I guess."

Astoria says goodnight to me as well, and the two of them head up the stairs together.

I continue sitting there, thinking about my horrible life decisions for another few minutes before I stand with a groan and leave the common room. My feet almost don't want to carry me back to Snape's office, but I force them to, the need to see if he's alive propelling me forward. It's my fault no one was able to help him earlier, so I have to help him now. I push open his office door and peek my head in. "Professor?" I whisper.

He's nowhere to be found, but I enter anyways. "Professor?" I whisper again, working my way around the room. "Professor?"

Snape still doesn't answer me, and I feel my heart sink in my chest. Is he all right?

My eyes trail over to the cauldron, and I walk over to it. Even though I know there's no potion left, I stick my hand into the cauldron and grope around hopefully, finding nothing. Though that is entirely expected, it's still disappointing. If only I didn't know how to Vanish things, I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

I hang my head and let myself grieve my own foolishness for a moment. I can't believe I did this. A powerful guilt pulling at my heart, I make my way to the chair I normally occupy when I'm here in Snape's office. I wave my wand to summon up a bottle of ink, a quill, and some parchment. I start writing, trying to get this off my chest.

Zoe,

I did something so stupid. Snape was making Liquid Luck and he tried to modify it to brew faster and he took it without testing and he was vomiting blood and I got frustrated with him after a fight we had and I Vanished the potion. I could have gotten out of this whole thing had I just—had I just stolen some for myself. I can't even really breathe right now, I'm so stupid.

And I didn't go get help for Snape because he told me not to and I don't know if he's doing okay now or not and I can't find him and it kills me that something might be wrong with him.

And I can't tell anyone here at Hogwarts any of this.

I'm suffocating. My time is running so short. And I've just destroyed my one chance of escape.

I'm so scared.

Charlotte

I take this brief time to write Fred a letter as well, but I don't mention anything that I've just old Zoe. I mainly ask him how Ron is doing and apologize that I wasn't able to see him while he was here at the castle. I'm sure he understands—he's always been so understanding then why don't you tell him your duty—but I wish things could have worked out differently, nonetheless. I would have much preferred spending time with Fred and his family in the hospital wing rather than getting vomited on by Severus Snape. I would have preferred to do just about anything rather than get vomited on by anyone.

I fold up the letters and lean back in the chair. I know I should return to the dormitory and go to sleep, but I don't want to. What if Snape loses it again in the night? What if something else happens? What if he needs help again but no one is around?

Regrettably, I find the idea of leaving his office right now completely impossible. I can't fathom just—just leaving. I need to make sure he's fine even though I know he'll never answer me. Either because he's asleep or because he's still livid. Whatever his reason for not answering me, I don't want to leave his office. I feel slightly better about the situation when in here.

"Dobby?" I whisper. The little elf appears with a loud crack! "Could you bring me some dinner? Enough for two people?"

He disappears again, and I watch the air where he had just been, unable to pull my eyes away from the space. A few minutes later he reappears with a large tray of food. "Thank you so much."

He smiles at me and disappears once more. I push aside some of the stuff on Snape's desk and place the tray there. I slide my chair closer to his desk and begin eating, finally allowing myself to feel the hunger that's been gnawing at me since I brought McGonagall back in here to help Snape.

I don't taste much of it, my mind so full of worry for Snape, and when I've finally had my fill of food, I remove my used bowls and plates and utensils from the tray and put them aside. Then I gather up the tray and walk to the bookshelf that I once saw Snape emerge from and knock on it. "Professor Snape?" I call. "I know you're not speaking with me, but I—I got you some food? Well, Dobby got you some food. I'm just—I'm going to leave it here. I don't know whether Professor McGonagall made you eat earlier or whether you would've even listened to her had she told you to eat."

I move everything aside and place the tray on the shelf, doing my best not to knock over any of the potions or potion ingredients. That's the last thing I need right now—another reason for Snape to be upset with me. I watch the tray for a moment, unsure whether I should leave, then finally force myself out of his office and back to the common room.

Daphne is sitting by the fire when I arrive, and the sight of her brings me to a sudden halt. When did she come back down here? Did she purposefully go upstairs with Astoria so that she could come back down here and talk to me alone? "It's not private lessons, is it?" she asks me, looking up at me. She motions for me to take a seat beside her, and though I don't really know why, I do. "Do you even have private lessons with him?"

"Yes. He's actually taught me a great deal about Occlumency. We've been working on it for months, and Dumbledore himself tested me on my birthday."

"Why?"

"So I could join the group who fights against Voldemort," I say. "But I had to learn Occlumency because I'm around Voldemort because of reasons I can't explain to you." I raise my eyebrows at her. "Or am I really a spy for the Death Eaters? No one will ever know."

"Charlotte."

"Yeah?"

She smiles at me, then nudges my shoulder. "Come on, you did not have Occlumency lessons all day today." I watch her, unwilling to give any kind of reaction. She'll never guess, of course, what actually happened today, and I don't want to talk about it with anyone. McGonagall was the only person I was comfortable confiding in, and even that was probably a mistake because Snape will surely hold it over me that I told her after he specifically told me not to tell anyone. "So, what's really going on?" she asks.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." I keep my face as still as possible. "You can tell me, Charlotte. I can keep a secret. You should know that by now."

"But it isn't my secret to tell. Snape needed help with something. So I helped him. That's really all there is to it."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Help with something? He needed you to—help with something? Is it something that could get him fired?"

"What?"

Daphne glances around the room to make sure that there are no other students, then leans really close to me and whispers, "Are you—are the two of you—are you—well, shagging or any other—?"

I choke on my breath at the realization of what she's asking me, heat rising up my neck and across my face. "Absolutely not."

She narrows her eyes again. "There's no judgment here—well, maybe some judgment because of who it is—but—"

"Merlin, it's nothing like that," I interrupt her, uncomfortable with where this conversation has gone. My mind briefly flashes to when I kissed him and when I thought his legs were incredibly attractive, and my heart rate increases in fear that she can somehow see those memories, though that is impossible. "He was—Merlin, he was injured. You can ask McGonagall. I took her to see him—to check on him."

"And just now?" she asks. "Why did you go back? That's where you were, right? You went to his office?"

I exhale. "Yes, I went to his office, and I called Dobby the house-elf for a meal, and I ate it and left some behind for Snape because I don't know if he's eaten or anything. And right now, he's super weak, so he needs to eat."

"Did he? Eat, I mean."

"I called to him, but he wouldn't come out of his private quarters, so I left the tray there by the entrance."

"How—how did you know where the entrance was?"

"It's not like that," I say, slightly exasperated that she's still hinting at something sexual between me and Snape. Embarrassment courses through me. "I showed up early to one of our lessons, and I saw him come out of it. I have never been inside his quarters, Daphne."

"Well, you don't have to go into his quarters to sleep—"

"Daphne. No. Just no."

She leans back in her chair. "Eventually you're going to have to explain all of this to me, you know. I'm curious as to how you managed to get Snape to be so nice to you."

I pull my legs under myself. "After some rather rocky starts and a lot of arguments, I started being nice to him." I swallow. "Did you have any idea how few people actually show him genuine kindness? I don't think it's many of them."

"He doesn't offer many chances to be nice to him."

"That's probably true. He's very difficult to deal with at times. I think he prides himself on being so."

"Yeah, it seems that way. I'm just glad he's kinder to the Slytherins than he is to the other Houses."

"In the course of my Occlumency lessons, I retaliated, and the spell rebounded. I've seen some of his memories, and his life has never been easy or happy." She frowns, looking suddenly sympathetic. "He and I have had similar experiences, and I think that's also part of why he's so nice to me. He feels bad for me."

She nods but doesn't pry for more information. We both remain silent for a few moments before she says, "I'm exhausted."

Then she pushes to her feet, and I find myself following her lead. We walk up to the sixth-year girls' dormitory. We don't talk as we climb into our beds and close our curtains around ourselves. I slide my arm behind my head and just kind of stare at the ceiling. I'm not tired—I'm not even remotely tired. My long nap in Snape's office has kind of killed any need to sleep, and my anxiety over his well-being has killed any desire to sleep.

Has he vomited up more blood? Does he need more Blood-Replenishing Potion? Would he have told McGonagall to get him some, or would he have had too much pride to ask for that sort of help since he was in a slightly better state of mind at the time?

Does he need help?

An image of Snape lying in a pool of his own blood-vomit flies into my mind, and try as I might to expel it, nothing can shake it. He could be dying right now because I didn't seek out Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore. He could be hurt, and it's my fault. After everything he's done for me—after he let me stay in his house and after he taught me Occlumency and nonverbal duels—I don't think I could ever forgive myself for letting something like this happen to him. My throat grows thick, and tears blur my vision. What if Snape is dying right now, and there's no one around to help him?

My heart rate picks up, pounding against my ribcage, and my breathing starts to become panicked. He could be dying right now.

I don't know how long I lie there, images of Snape's dead body flooding my mind, before I finally give up and roll out of my bed. I cast the Disillusionment Charm over myself and start back toward Snape's office. No one is in the common room, so no one sees the common room door open and close without anyone leaving or coming in.

I calm slightly when I reach his office and push open the door, but it doesn't last long because—for obvious reasons—he's not there. He's still in his private quarters, no doubt. Or the hospital wing.

No, no, he wouldn't go there. He wouldn't have let McGonagall take him there.

My eyes find the bookshelf, but the tray of food is gone. Did he hear me earlier?

I sit back down in front of his desk and scribble out a short note to Snape, basically just asking if he's all right. I don't know why it matters so much to me.

Yes, I do. I absolutely know. He means so much to me, and if he dies because I was stupid, I won't be able to live with myself. I place the short note on his chair. For a moment I debate just staying in his office—just sleeping in that chair right there until he emerges in the morning or whenever—but I can't do that. I just know I can't—he wouldn't like it.

So, I take one last look at the bookshelf, almost praying that he'll step out of his private quarters for whatever reason. But he doesn't, giving me no choice but to leave his office and return to the dormitory.

I crawl back into my bed and put my arm back beneath my head, my eyes still watching the ceiling.

The food was gone. That must be a good sign, right? I mean, who would have removed the food if not him. That means he must be relatively fine.

At least, that's what I hope. I'm sure he heard me calling through the door to his private quarters and decided that he was hungry.

Does that mean I'm forgiven?

Of course not. Don't be stupid, Charlotte. You know it'll take more than a meal to earn forgiveness for what you've done.

Both from yourself and from Snape.

I close my eyes finally, and at some point later, after an undeterminable amount of time during which Snape's death repeatedly dances through my mind, I drift into something resembling sleep.

The sounds of the other girls in the dormitory moving around and getting ready for the day wake me, but I don't get out of the bed to get ready like the rest of them. Instead, I just continue lying there. Yesterday's ordeal has left a mark on me, so I won't be going to class today.

A short while later, the curtains around my bed move aside to reveal the smiling face of Daphne Greengrass peeking around the bedpost. "Good morning, Charlotte. Will you be going to class today?" I grimace at her. "Not even breakfast then?" I shake my head. "Would you like me to sneak you some food up here? Because I will. You know I will."

"That would actually be kind of nice, yeah," I say. "But don't struggle with—smuggle back something easy, you know."

"Will do," she says with a wink.

The curtains fall back into place as she disappears. I roll onto my side. Perhaps I should get ready and go to class—at least that way I'll know whether Snape is fine.

Just ask Daphne when she returns.

I smile at the thought.

I'm sure Snape is more than fine. After everything he's gone through with the Dark Lord, one bad potion isn't going to kill him.