Another World

Ginny awakened sometime later. The first thing that she realized was that she had an awful crick in her neck from sleeping on the rug. The second realization was that there was a pair of arms encircling her waist and someone’s knees were tucked securely beneath her own. Her heart began beating wildly until she remembered falling asleep next to Remus in his werewolf form. He had changed back when the moon had set. Ginny relaxed. Part of her wanted to remove his arms, hopefully without waking him, and get up so that she could stretch and rub her aching neck, but mostly she just wanted to stay there, warm and safe while he continued to sleep.

But it was not to be. Only a few minutes later she felt Remus stir behind her. He slowly removed his arms from her waist and sat up. She sighed and rolled onto her back and looked up at him. He was blushing slightly as he adjusted the collar of his trademark shabby robes.

“Good morning, Ginny. I trust you slept well,” he said.

“Quite well, thank you,” she said, rubbing her sore neck and yawning.

“Yes, you look much better this morning, less pale. Very good.”

“And you look more like yourself,” she commented with a half smile.

He chuckled good-naturedly and replied, “Why thank you, Ginny, what a nice thing to say.” Few people could make him smile about his condition, about being a werewolf, but Ginny seemed to be able to make him smile about almost anything.

Her eyes drifted from his smiling, but still vaguely pink face to the door of the bedroom as she remembered the night before. Remus noted her gaze and offered her a hand up as he stood.

“We should check on them,” said Ginny, becoming more serious.

“Hermione told me what happened last night. The two of you were quite brave,” commented Remus.

“No, Severus was brave. I don’t think Hermione and I would have risked going out there, at least not without all of us going. He didn’t hesitate. He knew what he wanted and did what he had to get it.”

“The books?” questioned Remus, acknowledging that the Slytherin mind set occasionally came in handy.

“Yes. I piled them over there,” she said, pointing toward the door.

“I will take a look at them after we check on Severus and Hermione,” he said, glancing over the couch at the stack of books.

Hermione was still sitting on the bed and watching Severus sleep when they walked into the bedroom, which was doubling as something of a hospital room too. She had been sitting there for sometime, contemplating many things, including their situation, Snape’s condition, and that peculiar fluttering in her stomach that she had once associated only with the late Viktor Krum.

Ginny walked around to the other side of the bed and looked at Severus rather approvingly. He remained pale, but not deathly so. He merely appeared to be somewhat ill, which was an incredible improvement from the previous evening. At first Ginny had been convinced that Severus was going to die. Even when Hermione had sent her away, she had been unsure whether he would make it or not.

Remus laid a hand on Hermione’s shoulder as he also took a good look at Severus. His wolf-eyes had not been mistaken the night before. The injuries were grave. The scent of the blood had been like a very powerful presence. Even controlled by the Wolfsbane potion, it had toyed with his senses, and for that he could not help but to feel a little bit guilty. But this morning the wounds were closed, and the ferric scent of blood was almost absent from the air.

“Hermione, have you ever considered becoming a mediwitch?” Remus asked her.

“Actually, no, not before last night,” she said.

“Well, perhaps you should,” he chuckled. “Severus looks much improved this morning.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said Severus, opening his eyes.

The look of utter surprise and astonishment on Remus’s face was well worth interrupting his nap. Severus smirked slightly, obviously still too weak to manage a full on sneer. He struggled into a sitting position, earning a mild glare from Hermione, who moved to slip a pillow behind his back.

“And what are you all doing in here? Shouldn’t someone be working on an escape plan or something?” he groused, suddenly aware that they were all looking at him with concerned facial expressions, or, in Hermione’s case, a smile. It was somewhat embarrassing.

Remus chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Severus, we’re in here because you’re hurt and we are concerned about you. And, yes, we should be working on getting out here, but we will most certainly need your help to do that.”

“In that case bring some of my books in here, would you?” he asked.

Hermione hid her widening smile behind her hand as Ginny dashed into the parlor to obey his request.

“Are you sure you are quite up to it, old fellow?” asked Remus.

“We’re the same age! I insist that you not call me ‘old’ nor ‘fellow’ for that matter,” said Snape with almost forced grumpiness.

“All right,” Remus chuckled.

“Really, Severus, he does have a point. You are hurt, and you should be resting,” said Hermione diplomatically.

“Reading in bed shouldn’t prove too strenuous,” Severus replied. “If only taking house points weren’t so absurd in this situation,” he muttered just loud enough for them to hear.

Ginny returned with the books and placed them on the stand by the bed. Severus reached for one and winced.

“Here,” said Hermione, passing the book to him.

“That one is for Remus. I want the one on the bottom of the stack,” he said, touching his chest gingerly.

“Of course you do,” said Hermione, getting the book for him. “And I suppose you want me to find some robes while I’m at it,” she said with a smirk, one that Severus recognized all too well. She had borrowed it off of him.

“I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you,” he said, seeming to flush slightly pink when Ginny happened to giggle.

“Severus, I’m sure you dream of inconveniencing Gryffindors every night, but believe me when I say that you are no trouble at all right now,” said Hermione, slipping from the bed and walking over to the wardrobe in the corner.

“Come, Ginny, I do believe I could use some help with this,” said Remus with a smile as he hefted the book that Severus had recommended that he take.

Ginny was practically skipping as she followed him out, closing the door as she left the bedroom.

“Ugh! That poor girl has an unhealthy fascination with Remus!” said Snape distastefully.

“Ginny. Ginny is her name. And she might fancy him a bit,” Hermione corrected.

“Well, whatever you call it, I find it most disturbing.”

“Lots of girls fancy or have have fancied Professor Lupin.”

“What for? They all know that he becomes a dangerous ...”

“Three nights a month. But the rest of the time he is a gentle, amiable man with friendly eyes and a very sweet smile.”

“You have a ... a thing for him too?” asked Snape as she opened the wardrobe and sifted through its contents. She was almost certain that he sounded jealous.

“I do not! I prefer my men a little ... a little more, you know ...”

“No, I’m sure I don’t.”

“I like darker men.”

“Well, he is a Dark Creature, you know,” Severus pointed out.

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” she said, removing a set of robes from the wardrobe. “How about this?”

“They’re purple.”

“They could pass for black.”

“No.”

“You’re impossible. Dark green then?”

“Fair enough.”

She brought the robes over to the bed and held them up to get an idea of the size. The Slytherin head of house circa 1945 was probably a little over two meters tall and perhaps a bit broader about the shoulders than Severus. The name ‘Krohn’ had been stitched inside the collar of the robe. They would be a bit large for Severus, but they would fit well enough for a few days’ wear. Hermione shivered at the thought of being trapped there any longer than that.

Severus pushed the blankets aside and glanced down at his blood spotted pants, frowning. It wasn’t as though he never spilled anything on his clothes or that he was so terribly concerned about stains. It simply was unpleasant to see so much of one’s own blood on any garment. He had survived torture by what could surely be considered a master torturer, but the Cruciatus curse had seldom involved bleeding.

He was lost in thought until he felt Hermione lift his arm and guide it into a sleeve. She pulled the garment around him and lifted his left arm to do the same. He jerked his arm from her hand and held it to his chest. For a moment she thought she had somehow hurt him. Then she saw the vague and ugly outline of the Dark Mark.

“Severus, don’t be so silly,” she sighed, taking his arm again and forcing it quickly into the sleeve.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked blankly as she began buttoning his robes.

“Dressing you? Because you are injured and you need my help. Certainly not for any thanks.”

“No, I know the logical reason why you’re doing this. I want to know ... what motivates you.”

“It could be called kindness or compassion perhaps,” she said a little color creeping into her cheeks.

“Yes, that’s it exactly. Why are you being kind to me? I’ve never treated you very well.”

“Oh ... well, it’s simple. You have tried, though not very successfully, to treat the three of us in a civil fashion since we’ve been in here. I am returning the courtesy, I suppose.”

Severus caught her hands clumsily as she straightened the collar of the forest green robes, and asked, “Is that the only reason?” His ebony eyes were strangely searching.

Hermione had the sudden impulse to tell him that it wasn’t. She wanted to tell him that she had an unhealthy fascination with him and see the look on his face. Of course, she knew she couldn’t, just couldn’t tell Professor Snape that, no matter what realm of existence they were trapped in. Whether in heaven or hell, he would never ... could never possibly share similar feelings. His jealousy of Remus Lupin was one thing. His feelings toward her, she was certain, were another entirely.

“Yes,” she answered, blinking rapidly and looking away. It was the most difficult lie she had ever told.

Fortunately, he didn’t quite believe her. He simply released her hands and nodded.

“Thank you, Hermione.”



Albus Dumbledore had found the answer. It was about an hour before breakfast, but he had finally located the information he needed. The sound of hurried steps caused him to raise his eyes from the book. Minerva McGonagall looked as though she had dressed in quite a rush.

“I’m here, Albus. What have you discovered?” she questioned.

“Your hair net, Minerva,” he coughed quietly.

She quickly removed the offending article and stuffed it into a pocket.

“Well?”

“The Founders created a set of six mirrors to serve as emergency exits for humans caught in the demon’s prison. They were placed strategically throughout the castle as gateways between worlds. Humans cannot enter through them. Demons cannot exit. They can only be activated by incantation. I have the spell here,” Dumbledore told her. “The only real trouble is getting it to them.”

“And you have a plan?” asked McGonagall.

“Of course. First we locate the mirrors. We will be able to see into the other world even if we cannot enter it,” said Dumbledore.

“But, Albus, there must be hundreds of mirrors in the castle! It might take days!” she said.

“We will recruit some assistance. Mister Potter and Weasley have been especially upset since the disappearance of their friends. And the rest of the staff will search with us. I am certain that we can cover much of the castle in a relatively short amount of time.”

“Of course. How are the mirrors activated?”

“Two sharp taps with a wand in the center. Very simple, you see.”

“Quite. Finding them will be the only problem.”

“Indeed. Begin assembling the searchers and give them their instructions. Leave no mirror untapped,” said Dumbledore.

Minerva nodded that she understood. Then she took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height.

“I don’t regret kissing you one bit, Albus Dumbledore. If you weren’t such an old coot, I might do it again,” she told him.

“I was old then too, you know,” he said with some amusement. He had certainly gotten Minerva’s goat.

“At least you didn't look it back in those days,” she retorted, turning on her heel and leaving the office.

Yes, that was going to disturb Minerva quite profoundly and for sometime.

Harry and Ron were seated in a secluded corner of the common room with very depressed looks on their faces. It wasn’t long before breakfast would be served. The house elves were bring it up. Classes had been canceled and students were strongly encouraged to remain in their dormitories. Most of the other students looked a bit subdued as well. Two of their house mates were missing as well as one of their dearest professors. Not even the fact that Snape was missing too could cheer them up. Harry glanced at the Marauder’s Map, which they had taken to studying as a means of watching the searches and looking for any sign of the missing themselves, and noted that Professor McGonagall was approaching the tower.

“Mischief ... managed,” Harry sighed, clearing the map and putting it away.

“Think she will have any news?” questioned Ron, who looked even more miserable than Harry.

His mother and father had come to the school the night before. He had only seen his mother that upset once or twice in his life. And he had never seen his father break down before. The times were trying. The war was on. The Ministry was in shambles. And then his daughter goes missing again. Percy had taken them home after a brief visit with Ron. He had been substantially less shaken up, but that was Percy. It was worse than the last time Ginny was missing, worse than the end of his second year by far.

“Potter, Weasley, come with me, if you please,” said Professor McGonagall sternly. “And see that you have your wands,” she added.

“Yes, professor,” they answered, excitement and interest in their voices for the first time in days.

“I trust you will both behave responsibly, as your friends’ lives may depend on it. The headmaster has asked me to recruit you both to help the staff make another search of the castle.”

“You can count on us,” said Ron.

“I hope so, Mister Weasley,” said McGonagall.

Within minutes of being given instructions, Harry and Ron found themselves walking through the castle in search of mirrors. They didn’t entirely understand what Professor McGonagall had told them, but they endeavored to follow her instructions to the letter. Their friends, as well as a man Harry considered a reluctant ally at the very best, were stuck in a very scary place that could only be reached through six special mirrors, so they would find those mirrors. Simple as that.

“Damn!” Ron swore as he finished tapping the twentieth mirror with no result. He could still see his reflection and nothing more.

“Sorry, dear,” said the looking glass.

“Come on. We need to pick up the pace,” said Harry.

“Then why don’t we split up?”

“McGonagall wanted us together to avoid overlooking hidden mirrors and stuff.”

“No, she wanted you to keep an eye on me, make sure I don’t do it wrong somehow,” said Ron rather bitterly. “All because I’m not a star student.”

“How many other students are helping with this search? Just prefects, right?” asked Harry very coolly and logically, something he had picked up from Hermione over the years.

“You’re insufferable, Harry,” sighed Ron as they stepped into another unused office.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Harry walked over to a dusty mirror and rubbed its surface clear with his sleeve. He was quite hopeful as the mirror seemed to be very old.

“What if we can’t find them?”

“Someone else will,” said Harry stubbornly.

“Find what?” asked the mirror.

“Oh, a couple of special mirrors,” Harry answered it absently before giving it a couple of sharp taps with his wand.

“You’re looking for the special mirrors then,” it accused moodily. “A plain, ordinary looking glass isn’t good enough for you, is it?”

“Er, not at the moment. Do you know where they are? The ones the Founders enchanted?” asked Harry.

“Well, at least one of them was broken ages ago. They wanted me to replace it. But the old magic had been forgotten. I can’t see the demon world for you, if that’s what you’re after,” said the looking glass. “I can only see the foundation of the groundskeeper’s hut,” it added irritably. “Dank and dirty and ...”

“But you don’t know where the others are?” interrupted Harry.

“Not exactly ... But I heard once ... long ago ... that Salazar Slytherin liked to watch them,” said the looking glass.

“There weren’t any mirrors in the Chamber of Secrets, were there, Harry?”

“Not that I remember.”

“What about the Slytherin dormitories?”

“I’m sure the prefects checked there.”

“What about Snape’s office and rooms?”

“Brilliant! I bet almost no one would dare go in there without Snape’s permission,” said Harry. As they ran for the door, Harry called over his shoulder to the mirror, “Thanks!”



Ginny and Remus sat on the couch by the fire, flipping through the book that Severus had insisted that Remus take and searching it for any information, any clue that might help them. It wasn’t a potions' book. It was merely a magical history text from the time of the Founders. Actually it was a reprint, but Snape had considered it important enough to risk his life for. And he did not take such risks out of idle fancy.

Even as he read and skimmed through the text, Remus was aware, keenly aware, of Virginia Weasley watching him out of the corner of her eye as she read through the book with him. Her long red hair cascaded over one shoulder, catching the light of the fire and the dancing shadows. She was the loveliest distraction he had ever had keep him from concentrating fully upon his work, at least since the days of a certain green-eyed redhead, who had tormented him during his school days before she discovered a certain dark-hared Quidditch player. Remus suppressed a sigh. What was it with him and girls with locks of bright auburn?

And Ginny was very much aware of him too, though she struggled terribly to keep her mind on the book and finding a solution to their predicament. She could feel his warm breath, a strong contrast to the cool dungeon air, as he leaned over to examine a particular paragraph more closely. She moved closer to him, sliding the large book that they held between them closer as well. He nodded his thanks silently and appeared to continue reading.

She had liked Remus for a very long time, since her second year in fact, but then he had gone away, and she thought that she would never see him again. Then he had returned! But now she was older, wiser, and more grown-up. The fact that her brother and his friends liked to treat her like a little girl couldn’t change that. Nothing could. She had grown up fast because of the war and other things. Some of her professors, McGonagall for instance, had recognized this, but she wasn’t certain that Remus had. And that was very unfortunate, in her opinion.

Of course, she realized, Remus was quite a bit older and her professor, but there had always been rumors about students and teachers. They said that Professor Sinistra had lost a lover during the first attack Voldemort had made upon the castle. He had been a seventh year Ravenclaw and a few weeks shy of eighteen. Someone had said that Sinistra was going to marry him after graduation, but that was a bit far-fetched, although it was a very romantic notion. Professor Sinistra had not been quite the same since. And when Ginny was in her first year there had been handsome and popular Professor Lockhart. She had heard a number of sixth year students exchanging more than just the usual gossip about him in quiet corners. And it was common knowledge that Madam Hooch’s spouse was a good ten to fifteen years her junior. How had that happened unless she had married a student or more likely a former student? There were many ways, of course, but that was the going theory.

But all of this was presuming that Remus was even interested in her. Ginny had seen precious little evidence to suggest that she was anything more than one of his favorite students and that possibly because she was Harry’s friend and Ron’s sister, except perhaps for that morning and that was not particularly good evidence.

Remus could tell by the expression on Ginny’s face, and her face always seemed very expressive to him, that she was thinking about more than the book in front of them. She looked sad. She wasn’t afraid or pale anymore. She simply looked dispirited and a little down. Remus closed the book and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Homesick, Ginny?” he guessed.

She laughed softly as she looked up into his eyes and answered, “No, not really. It’s hard to be homesick in a place that looks exactly like home, or at least Hogwarts. I always think of the school as my home away from home, but then they do say that home is where the heart is.”

“Then you must miss your brother and Harry,”

“A bit,” she admitted. “But I don’t mind the company here either.”

“You don’t?”

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Remus. I mean, I would be enjoying it a lot more if circumstances were a little less desperate.”

Remus leaned closer to her and said, “I know, Ginny.”

“But I want to make the best of it,” she said, looking into his golden brown eyes.

The impulse to kiss him was sudden, and it was undoubtedly brought on by their close proximity and perhaps even the very desperation of which she had spoken. One minute she was staring into his eyes. The next, their lips were touching, and she closed her eyes, savoring the softness and tenderness with which he returned the kiss. Then he suddenly stopped and pulled away.

Remus didn’t know what had come over him. It was still early in the day to blame the wolfish part of his nature. Why had he kissed her? No, wait. Had she just kissed him? Remus was a little confused as he pulled away from her, breaking the blissful contact and feeling hungry for more at the same time. He could see disappointment as she opened her eyes, painful disappointment and confusion.

“Remus, professor, I’m so sorry ... I didn’t mean to ...”

“No, it’s fine,” he told her, touching her lips with his fingertips. He didn’t want to hear her apologize. Far from it. “I’m glad you did it actually,” he said with a slightly sheepish smile.

“You are?”

“It isn’t every day that a beautiful young woman gives me a kiss.”

Ginny giggled and said, “Maybe it should be.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. That was a rather bold statement coming from her.

It was also something that Lupin had seldom heard, even when he was her age. He had been a shy youth with few friends. There were the Marauders and Lily Evans, of course, but few girls had been interested in the thin and frail young man with the piercing, yet doubtful eyes. Then when he reached adulthood, Remus had found few of his peers, and very few women, who could deal with his condition, with lycanthropy. It had been too hard for them to accept, although at least a couple of them had tried and failed. Even after the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, everyone wanted to keep their distance. And now here was this lovely young woman who had known of his condition for a long time and had even seen and accepted him in werewolf form telling him that he deserved to be kissed, and all of the comfort and affection that that implied. It was like a dream come true.

This time it was Remus who kissed Ginny.

Meanwhile, in the other room where an extremely bright Gryffindor and a dutiful Slytherin were still poring over aged tomes of magic, Severus shuddered involuntarily. Hermione glanced up from her book with worry written plainly upon her features. She tried to say something both questioning and comforting to Severus, who grimaced and waved her away. Not one to give up very easily, she felt his forehead and grasped his wrist to take his pulse.

“I’m perfectly all right. It’s the wards, you silly girl!” he told her, shooing her away before bellowing, “Lupin! Whatever you’re doing in there, stop it this instant!” For a moment Severus could have sworn that he heard the inexplicable sound of Ginny Weasley giggling rather loudly.

“The wards?” Hermione questioned, wincing at the sound of Severus yelling very loudly and nearly in her ear.

“Yes. Do you want me to describe the sensation? Would that make you happy?”

“Yes and no,” she replied coolly, taking the book from his lap and marking his place in it.

“Imagine that you can sense through the walls, the floors, and the ceiling and behind them you sense demons, perhaps the entire hoard. They have their claws and ears pressed against these boundaries, straining desperately to hear something, concentrating all of their will of this endeavor. My skin prickles as they listen, like phantom claws tickling and prodding every inch of me. It is not painful in the traditional sense of the word, but it is quite uncomfortable,” Severus explained to her.

“Can I do anything?” Hermione questioned.

Severus glanced toward the bath and suggested, “You can allow me to leave this bed.”

“Can you manage it?”

“I believe so.”

“Very well.”

Severus slid from the bed and stood rather unsteadily on his feet for a moment before taking a step forward. Hermione moved very quickly to catch him before his knees and buckled and he fell. He tried steady himself against her with a look in his eyes that she could only identify as shame. Hermione held him until he managed to gain his feet again.

“Let me help you. I swear, Severus, that I don’t want to embarrass you. I just want to help you,” she told him with a quietly pleading tone in her voice.

“That’s all you’ve wanted since we came here,” he observed, putting an arm across her shoulders. A firm and guiding arm encircled his waist.

“It isn’t a crime, you know,” she told him, stepping forward as he did, moving slowly and patiently.

“I suppose not.”

“For a moment there I thought you were going to say that it should be,” she chuckled.

As they reached the door to bath, Severus removed his arm and grasped the door frame, using it to support him. The few steps from the bed had felt like a mile. The only good thing about it was that the prickling had lessened when she touched him. He had had something else to concentrate on perhaps.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly before retreating into the room and closing the door.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. It was so difficult for him to say those two words. She could hardly blame him. It wasn’t easy for anyone to admit they needed help and surely a thousand times more difficult than that for a Slytherin to be grateful for it. She didn’t want him to be grateful. She only wanted him to be all right, even if that meant that he was his usual ill-tempered self. She was quite used to that. Although the man with washed hair and a less sharp tongue was rather refreshing, not to mention appealing.

She found herself blushing again. Was it really so difficult to accept these feelings? She had to wonder.

“Of course, if he knew, he would only make fun, regardless of how he felt himself, and once we’re out of here, I would never hear the end of it, and I plan to teach at Hogwarts someday. He would make my life utterly wretched. I know it,” she told herself, half realizing that she was lying, or at least exaggerating. Severus was so complicated, such a complex person, that it was difficult to judge what he would do.

As Hermione pondered these thoughts, she walked over to the looking glass on the wall adjacent to the door to the bath, intending to check her hair and see if it really looked as bad as she imagined.

When she looked into the ancient looking glass, her jaw dropped. Hermione couldn’t believe what she was seeing!

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