The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 24: The Monster You Were Intended To Be

You're a mutant...you're a mutant...

The words echoed in Aeryn's ears as she stalked down the damp steps to Snape's office. Their faces...the way her friends had looked at her...but she pushed those thoughts away, her slate-blue eyes hardening with every step. Within minutes, she had reached the sturdy oak door of his office. She drew Ron's knife from her pocket and flicked it open with sure fingers.

The door creaked open under her touch. Snape's office had the same warmth and aesthetic appeal as his classroom. No pickled animals bobbed along the walls, but crusts of slime patched the stone. A moldering tapestry showing Saint George slaying the dragon graced one wall, but scarcely added to the decor. The Potions master was crumpled over the top of his sparse desk. His head lifted as Aeryn entered the room, and his feverish gaze brightened slightly.

"Miss Blake." He ran a hand absently across his face, as if he were wiping cobwebs away from his gaze. "I realize that my request—"

Aeryn crossed the room in three quick steps and buried her fingers in his greasy black hair. "How—dare—you—" she snarled, yanking his head backwards and pressing the knife blade to his exposed throat. His hair between her fingers was slick with sweat. "I told you," she spat. "I told you—if you so much as looked at me—"

Snape was very still beneath her grasp. "Miss Blake—"

Aeryn dug the edge of the knife into the skin, cutting off his words. "Whatever happened to Aeryn?" she hissed mockingly, watching as his long fingers curled slightly against his armrests. "Come on, now—I thought we had dismissed all those pretentious niceties long ago."

Snape's breathing was raspy, as if he were struggling to draw air into his lungs. "I won't pretend...that your actions aren't justified," he murmured quietly after a moment. A heavy bead of sweat trailed down his cheek.

"You're damn right," Aeryn murmured back, "and I'll swear that all the way to Dumbledore himself, even under the influence of Veritaserum." She brought her lips close to the Potion master's ear. "That was a fabulous trick, by the way, lying under the influence...care to teach me?"

"I can explain that—"

"Really?" Aeryn purred, yanking back on his hair until he winced. "Go ahead, if you like—it'll spare your pathetic life for a few moments."

Snape drew another consumptive breath. Aeryn wrinkled her nose. The Potions Master stank of old sweat, and his skin was hot beneath her fingertips. "What time is it?" he muttered suddenly.

Aeryn blinked, startled, but kept the knife firmly pressed to his throat. "Why?" she asked warily.

Snape coughed slightly. "Because I need to know," he said weakly. "It's an innocuous enough request, I think."

Aeryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she made sure her hands were fast in his hair and she glanced down at her wrist. "It's about six—"

Snape's hands shot up and grabbed her wrists. Before Aeryn could react, he leaned forward and pitched her over his head. Her shoulder blades smacked onto his desktop, knocking most of the wind from her lungs. He tore the knife from her hand and Aeryn slithered to the floor, gasping, but she pulled herself to her feet, whirling to face him as she reared back to strike with her telepathic powers—

And the Potions master leaned across the desk and thrust the knife, handle towards her, under her nose.

Aeryn froze.

"He'll be here any second now," Snape said in a low voice, his coal-black eyes burning feverishly into hers. "Take the knife and hide, somehow, where you can see." He motioned his head towards the crumbling tapestry. "If you stand behind that, you can cast an illusion over it so it appears flat, and look through the holes in the fabric."

Aeryn gaped at him, dumb with shock. The knife was trembling in the Potion master's hand, and it looked as if he was struggling to remain standing. She took a cautious step backwards. "Tell me what's going on," she said flatly.

Snape drew a breath as if to say something, but a barking cough wracked his body. He doubled over, coughing violently, and the knife clattered from his hand to the floor. Shuddering, he dropped back into his chair. "Miss Blake—" he gasped between coughs. "I will answer—all of your questions—later—"

"Why?" Aeryn asked stubbornly. "Give me one good reason why I should do what you—"

A loud knock resounded on the oak door, splintering through her words.

"That's him," Snape muttered. "Hide yourself, now."

Aeryn snorted. "Ashamed to be seen with me, is that it, Professor?"

The person outside the door knocked again, louder.

Snape heaved himself to his feet and glared at her. "Do it, Miss Blake," he hissed, and for a moment, she could see the feral fire blazing behind his eyes, and he was once again the Potions master who had stood above her with a bloodied mouth, his wand leveled and ready to cast the final and worst Forbidden Curse....

The knife flew from the floor into Aeryn's hand, and she ducked behind the tapestry without another word, throwing an illusion of flatness over the threadbare fabric as she peered out through a hole. Snape slumped back into his chair, his face horribly pale.

"Enter," he croaked.

The sturdy oak door opened with a heavy creak, and a familiar figure swept into the room, his cerulean robes swirling about his feet. His periwinkle-blue eyes glittered as he saw the crumpled Snape sprawled across the desk, and his handsome face split in a cold grin.

"Hello, Severus," purred Gilderoy Lockhart, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "May I be permitted to say that you look like Death himself this evening."

He strode to the Potions master's side and threw a comradely arm across the other man's shoulders. "Black is a ghastly color on you, old chap. You should consider wearing saffron, or even a nice rust."

Snape recoiled from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's touch.

Lockhart clucked his tongue sadly. "Come now, that's no way to treat someone who's only inquiring after your health." He seated himself on the corner of Snape's desk. "After all I haven't seen you in...how long?" He crossed his arms and looked intently at the Potions master. "Oh, yes." A malicious grin twitched his lips. "Since that little affair two weeks ago in your Potions class."

Snape brushed a trembling hand across his face. In the low light of the office, Aeryn could see that his fingertips came away glistening with sweat. With a shudder, the Potions master wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward, his black hair falling before his face like a curtain.

Lockhart picked up a domed paperweight from the desk and tossed it between his hands. "Even on your best day, you're hardly what I'd call handsome, but you look worlds better now than you did then. Your head was pretty well stove in..." With the smallest of shoves, Lockhart sent the paperweight skidding across the desktop. When he spoke again, his voice was teasing. "I'm quite surprised that Aeryn's affections didn't finish you off."

Snape gurgled, and his fingers spasmed tightly around his arms. Through the tapestry, Aeryn could see his entire body quiver.

"I will say, Sev old chap, it was truly brilliant of you to take Veritaserum after the little lioness was fished from the lake," Lockhart said calmly as the Potions master rocked back and forth in his chair. "Cast all suspicion away from you nicely—couldn't have done it better, myself."

Snape lifted his head. A look of immense pain was etched across his features. "I should have waited to take it," he croaked.

Lockhart nodded calmly. "Yes, but then you'd be out of a job now, wouldn't you?"

"So would you," Snape muttered quietly, but Aeryn heard him clearly.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher threw back his head and laughed. "You can't be serious," he exclaimed, getting to his feet. "I've done nothing wrong."

Snape's breathing was labored. "You gave me—"

"I gave you nothing but a sample of my world-class butterbeer," Lockhart corrected him sharply, and there were ice crystals in his voice. His handsome face was devoid of its usual toothy grin, and that sight was terrifying in the flickering light of the dungeon. "How was I to know you would react so violently to the spices?"

"I can prove it—"

Lockhart spread his arms wide, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Your word against mine, Sev," he sneered. With a rustle of his cerulean robes, he swooped to Snape's side like a diving hawk. "Who's the Ministry going to believe?" he murmured in the Potions master's ear. "A former Death Eater-cum-student molester, or an award-winning wizard and writer?"

The Potions master was panting now, and his thin cheeks had turned gray. "Once I tell Dumbledore about this—"

"Oh, it won't matter, Sev," Lockhart purred. He hooked Snape's chin with one manicured finger and turned the other man's face towards him. "Not even if they pour Truth Serum down my throat. As you've so aptly shown with your Veritaserum trick, the truth can be skewed in many different ways." He chuckled. "And, although I'm not the world's most powerful wizard, my books prove that I'm a master at skewing the truth to work for me."

Snape tore his face away from Lockhart's grasp. "Dumbledore will give me another chance." His voice sounded as if it had been dipped in acid.

Lockhart shrugged. "Oh, I don't doubt that, you being a Head of House and all." He stood, clasping his hand behind his back. The flickering half-light of the office illuminated the features of the two professors, and Aeryn was idly struck by the picture they presented: the dark, brooding Potions master shuddering in his chair, the very image of a tortured, twisted denizen of the underworld; and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor standing like a sentinel over him, handsome as a guardian angel.

The guardian angel smiled, a gesture so cold that it could have graced the lips of Lucifer. "I do doubt," Lockhart murmured, "that Dumbledore will be so lenient on your pet Miss Blake once her dirty little secret's out."

Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat.

"He won't care that she's a mutant," choked Snape between clenched teeth. "Dumbledore's a bleeding heart for any poor soul—"

"Yes, the Headmaster is," said Lockhart, "but what do you think the parents of the students will say? The mutant scare isn't something the wizarding community takes lightly nowadays."

Snape half-rose from his chair, his face twisted in loathing and fury, but his limbs bucked beneath him and with a pained cry he tumbled back down, the breath hissing from his throat in short, agonized gasps.

"Once the owls start flying in and angry parents begin threatening to remove their children from Hogwarts, Dumbledore will have no choice but to throw your Aeryn into the street," Lockhart said, raising his voice slightly over Snape's whimpers. "Straight into the waiting arms of the Ministry, who will be quite interested to see how she fits into Hogwarts' recent string of attacks."

Sweat was pouring down the Potion master's colorless cheeks. "You wouldn't dare—"

"Just try me, Sev," Lockhart hissed. A hard, satisfied look crossed his face. "If I fall, I'm taking you and her with me."

A snarl twitched the pain-riddled face of the Potions master. "Leave Miss Blake out of this," he choked. He crackled open his streaming eyes and glared balefully at Lockhart. "Haven't you done enough to her already?"

Lockhart grinned malevolently. "Oh, no, Sev." He bent down until his lips were almost touching the Potions master's ear. "You're the one who's done her. Enough. Already."

Snape growled and lunged at him, but Lockhart danced back, laughing cruelly. "I don't blame you for being attracted to her, Sev," he jeered. "She's pretty enough—although you've probably never looked at her face, not with a body like hers." He growled lasciviously and outlined an hourglass in the air with his hands. "Those bouncing breasts...and those hips..." He groaned mockingly, putting a hand to his heart.

Snape did not speak, but the muscles in his jaw clenched visibly.

Lockhart sat down on the corner of Snape's desk, a sympathetic expression written across his handsome features. "Tell me the truth, Sev. You've secretly enjoyed these past few months, haven't you?" He sighed and put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "A young, curvy thing like her, so tempting and so utterly unable to reject your advances...." He chuckled throatily. "Bet you're getting hard right now, just thinking about it—thrusting between those thighs, driving yourself deep into her...."

The Potions master moaned and buried his face in his hands.

"How about we make a deal, Sev?" Lockhart asked, picking at one manicured fingernail. "You tell me I want to hear, and I might just give you the antidote." He peered out of the corner of his eye at the other man, whose muscles were twitching as if he was being given electric shocks. "Just tell me the truth. Deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you?"

Snape slowly raised his head from his hands. For a brief moment, his frighteningly brilliant gaze rested on the tapestry where Aeryn was hidden, and something akin to grief wafted across his tortured features. "Yes," he whispered finally, closing his eyes.

Lockhart's periwinkle-blue eyes glittered. "Very good," he cooed, turning around to face the Potions master. "Enjoyed it a lot, did you?"

Snape blindly turned his face away.

Lockhart leaned over and tapped his shoulder. "Answer me, Sev."

"Yes!" Snape spat brokenly, his muscles seizing up as pain twisted his features. He gritted his teeth and buried his hands in his hair. "Yes, goddamnit...every horrible...second."

Lockhart impassively watched the other man writhe. "Hmm." The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor tapped a finger against his pursed lips. "If you enjoyed it so much," he said slowly, "then you really can't want the antidote." He got to his feet.

Snape's streaming eyes followed him. "No—"

Lockhart reached into one voluminous sleeve and pulled out a small crystal bottle. The half-light of the dungeon illuminated the clear liquid within as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor waved the bottle before Snape. "You will, however, want this."

Snape glared at Lockhart with pure loathing. "Get out of my office."

Lockhart uncorked the bottle and waved it under Snape's nostrils. "Oh, come now. Just a sip."

Snape pushed Lockhart's hand away. "No," he snarled.

For a moment, the two men stared at each other, unmoving. Then, Lockhart's lip twitched, and he recorked the bottle. "You can't ignore me forever, Sev," he said, putting the bottle back in his sleeve. "Your withdrawal symptoms get worse every day...such a shame you've forgotten how to make the antidote." He sneered and spread his arms in a mock-helpless gesture. "And you can't very well get anyone to make it for you, not unless you want them to find out what you've done."

"What you've done," Snape whispered.

Lockhart clucked his tongue disapprovingly and wagged a finger at him. "I've merely been the provider, Sev." He grinned evilly. "You're the one that's done everything."

Snape's fingers turned white as he pressed them against the top of his desk. "Get...out...of...my...office."

"I'll be back in a few days, Sev," Lockhart said breezily, walking over to the door and pushing it open. He paused on the threshold and turned back to look at Snape, a nasty glint in his eye. "If you can survive that long, that is." He swept out of the door in a swirl of cerulean, his mocking laugh echoing in the still air of the room as the heavy oak door slammed shut.

The room was silent save for the Potions master's labored breathing.

Aeryn banished the illusion covering the tapestry and slipped out from behind the disintegrating fabric. Snape was leaning over his desk, his head in his hands. He looked up as Aeryn rustled towards him, the pocketknife open in her hand and her face impassive.

"Miss Blake," he began.

With one, sharp move, Aeryn dropped the knife on the desk. "Talk," she growled.

Snape's fingers were trembling as he folded them beneath his chin. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked in a low, halting voice.

"Why don't you start by telling me what the hell's going on between you and Lockhart," Aeryn snapped, slamming her palms on the top of the desk and leaning forward to glare into his feverish eyes.

Snape coughed weakly and blotted a sleeve across his wet forehead. "Have you ever heard of a poison called Berserker's Mead?"

Aeryn shook her head. Snape leaned back in his chair. "I'm not surprised—actually, very few people alive today have ever heard of it," he said. "Do you understand, at least, the historical significance of the name?"

Aeryn shrugged, unable to see what he was getting at. "Berserkers were ancient Norse warriors who went into a kill-or-be-killed rage whenever fighting, is that right?" She vaguely remembered something about berserkers from her eighth-grade English class.

"Close enough." He winced and put a hand to his chest, breathing heavily. "The poison was named such because Elahim the Destroyer used to give it to his troops before battle, rendering them without sense of right and wrong." He shuddered, and paused in his speech. Aeryn waited patiently as he drew several long, ragged breaths.

"It unlocks those aspects of our psyche that are the most basic, the most animal." His coal-black gaze sought Aeryn's face, and the tiniest shade of grief was embedded in its depths. "Like violence...and lust."

Aeryn's jaw tightened.

Snape looked away from her. "The introductory phase of the poison is longer than most—one to two months until it truly begins to control your actions—but the longer you take it, the more it affects you." He ran a hand through his sweat-streaked hair. "Unlike most drugs, Berserker's Mead leaves the user in full control of his capabilities...and totally conscious of every decision he makes."

He fell silent. Aeryn drummed her fingers against the top of the desk, feeling the smoldering beginnings of rage welling in her throat. "Go on," she muttered.

The Potions master's shoulders tensed as a spasm wracked his body. His hands tightened around his arms, and he groaned slightly, rocking forward in his chair. "Lockhart has been steadily feeding me...the poison...ever since the beginning of the school year," he gasped between clenched teeth. "I didn't realize it until...a week into November, after I had...." His voice cut off into a moan.

Aeryn thought back to the first time she had seen the Potions master stumble to the front of his classroom, his face smeared with sweat and breathing like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper. "The day in Potions when you had to dismiss class because you were too ill?"

Snape nodded curtly, the muscles in his jaw working. "I wasn't certain...what was wrong with me...until Lockhart came to my office later that day, very much in the same fashion as he did tonight." The Potions master drew a deep, shuddering breath. "He told me...that he'd been poisoning me—" Snape winced "—and that he would continue supplying it to me for as long as I would continue to take it."

The sight of him, standing tall and well at the Quidditch match flashed across Aeryn's mind's eye, and bile rose in her throat. "And you continued taking it," she said sourly.

"You don't understand, Miss Blake," Snape said between clenched teeth. "The poison...is also called the Berserker's Mead...for the effects that withdrawal has on your body." A wry smile twitched his tortured lips, and he chuckled bitterly. "Before an antidote was discovered, users of Berserker's Mead had one of two options...continue taking the poison until their increasingly violent actions destroyed them...or kill themselves to end the pain that withdrawal caused."

One of two options.

"But the antidote has been discovered," Aeryn said harshly. "And you still took it."

Snape swallowed, his brilliant eyes turning to her. "It wasn't—"

"Even after you found out Lockhart had been poisoning you," Aeryn spat, "you resumed taking it!" She leaned across the desk and grabbed the front of his robes, dragging him forward until his face was inches from hers.

"And—you—enjoyed—it—" The beginnings of tears threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. "I heard you—you told him—every second, you enjoyed it..."

His eyes were tortured. "I had...no choice—"

"And you knew that Dumbledore wouldn't care that I was a mutant," she whispered, her voice quavering. "Yet you threatened me—forced me to sleep with you, and you were bluffing—"

"Miss Blake—"

"You bastard," she sobbed, pushing him away from her. She turned away blindly and stumbled for the door, hot tears oozing down her cheeks. Lockhart's snide voice echoed maddeningly in her ears...deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you...and Snape's whispered yes, without remorse, without shame—

"Miss Blake, I can't make the antidote!"

Aeryn stopped, her hand curled around the doorknob. The scrape of the chair against the stone floor warned her that Snape was getting to his feet, and she strained a quivering breath through her teeth. She would not listen, there was nothing more he could explain....

"Lockhart cast a spell on me once I found out I was being poisoned," said the Potions master. "I had no choice, I thought...that even if I continued to take Berserker's Mead, I had strong enough willpower, that I could fight it...."

"I heard him say that you'd forgotten how to make it," Aeryn said in a low voice that shook with tears. "So look it up in the damn library. Leave me alone."

"You don't understand." His footsteps echoed unevenly on the floor as he walked towards her. "I am physically unable to make the antidote. The spell Lockhart placed on me..." He coughed weakly. "It's almost like I'm a werewolf, trying to make Wolfsbane Potion for myself. I can't do it. Earlier this week, I tried making the antidote, but...the stench of the ingredients alone made me so ill, I...I couldn't continue...I had to stop...."

"Then buy it from somewhere!" she growled.

"No one sells it, Miss Blake." His warm presence was at her back. "Not even in Knockturn Alley, and believe me, I looked."

Aeryn tilted her head up, choking back hysterical sobs. If he touched her...laid one finger on her...she wouldn't be able to handle it, she would lose control....

"I need you to help me." Snape's voice was low and pleading.

The breath wheezed from Aeryn's throat in high-pitched gasps as tears dripped down her face onto her robe, burning her skin. She pulled her hand away from the doorknob and wiped it furiously across her streaming eyes. "Give me one good reason," she panted, "why I shouldn't go straight to Dumbledore and let him know about all this."

A hesitant hand fell on her shoulder. "You heard what Lockhart said."

Aeryn tore herself away from his touch as if it was a red-hot poker. "I don't care anymore!" She flung herself towards the door, weeping uncontrollably. "Let me get kicked out of Hogwarts, it doesn't matter—"

His hands clamped upon her shoulders, reining her back. Aeryn cried out and threw herself forward, but was unable to pull away, and it was suddenly too much. She gave a despairing moan and crumpled to the floor, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders trembled with sobs.

A faint rustle whispered in the air. "Miss Blake." Snape slowly knelt on the floor next to her. "You don't understand—Lockhart is ruthless. If he even suspects that you're trying to expose him, all of Hogwarts will know that you're a mutant within a matter of hours."

Aeryn shook her head wordlessly, her fingers wet with her tears.

"And Dumbledore won't mind, that's true—but the uproar at the school, especially with the recent attacks—the Ministry will have you in Azkaban before you can blink."

His fingertip lightly grazed Aeryn's cheek, and with a hoarse cry, she recoiled from his touch. Shuddering, she lifted her face from her hands. The Potions master still knelt beside her, his coal-black eyes haunted in his slick face.

"Or—Lockhart will kill you," he said softly.

Aeryn swallowed hard. With a loud sniff, she dragged her sleeve angrily across her eyes, wiping away the clotted tears and mucus from her face. She sucked in several deep breaths, fighting to bring herself back under control. This was not happening to her. Everything she thought she knew about her situation had calmly and quietly been turned topsy-turvy.

"Help me, Miss Blake," Snape whispered.

She laughed slightly, a bitter sound, and pushed her fingers through her hair. "Tell me why the Veritaserum didn't work."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I don't—"

Aeryn shook her head violently. "You told Lockhart that you should have waited to take it," she whispered. Her eyes met his. "Tell me why."

A bitter smile crept across the lips of the Potions master. "You're very strong for a woman, Miss Blake," he whispered dryly. "When you left me that afternoon, I was..." He paused and chuckled. "Honestly, I don't remember much other than the pain. I found the strength, somehow, to Summon a bottle of a very powerful Bone-Mending potion...."

He closed his eyes. "The potion...is supposed to be diluted, one part to ten equal parts water, but...I drank it straight." His fingers trailed across the narrow grooves in his cheek. "My bones immediately started to mend, but I...I was in a heavily drugged state. I dragged myself to my chambers and I cleaned myself up as best I could." A cough wracked his body, and his eyes crinkled in pain. "My mind...was in a fog, and everything seemed surreal...for some reason, I eventually thought to go back to the classroom, and...Dumbledore and your friends were waiting for me."

Aeryn glared wordlessly at him.

Snape's lips tightened. "You had just been fished from the lake, and when Dumbledore asked me what had happened during class..." He put a hand to his forehead and laughed sadly. "I wish I could say that my own stellar sense of morality had returned to me at that point in time, but the truth is, I...I was so drugged that I barely understood what was going on." He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. "Somehow I got it through my head that you were badly hurt, and I...I asked Dumbledore to let me take Veritaserum, because he already wanted to know what had happened during class, and I thought, maybe...it could help."

"That doesn't make sense," said Aeryn.

"It made sense to me at the time!" Snape growled, his coal-black eyes regaining a bit of their normal iciness.

"And so you and the rest of the Heads went into Dumbledore's office, where you took Veritaserum," Aeryn continued for him. She lifted her chin. "What happened?"

Snape shrugged tersely. "They asked me about my actions during class, and—everything was fuzzy, but I told them what I could remember—I said I had been disciplining Potter and that you attacked me. I merely acted in self-defense." He ran a hand across his face. "And then I said that you had only acted like a hysterical female, and that I had no intention of punishing you, especially in the condition you were in."

Aeryn stared at him, shocked beyond belief. "What?" she gasped finally. A telltale buzzing was ringing on the very edge of her hearing. Impossible...unbelievable... "I thought—" it was suddenly very hard for her to speak "—I thought Veritaserum—you're only supposed to be able to tell the truth!"

Snape spread his hands helplessly in front of him. "It was the truth, Miss Blake!" He leaned forward, his black eyes sparking desperately. "That was what I believed to be the truth at the time...apparently the Berserker's Mead still had a hold on me...."

Aeryn made a noise in the back of her throat and put a hand to her face. Quivers of hysteria were running up and down the muscles of her back. She kept telling herself that this wasn't happening to her, that she would wake up and this would all be a horrible dream...but the drying tears on her cheeks and Snape's labored breathing echoing heavily in the still room belied her convictions. After a long, quiet moment, she lifted her head and fixed her slate-blue eyes on his face.

"Quid pro quo,

Miss Blake," the Potions master whispered. "Help me, and I will help you."

Aeryn's lip curled slightly.

"I can find a way to get to Lockhart and expose what he's done, but only if I can get my strength back." The Potions master stretched a trembling hand out to her. "Help me get through the withdrawal, and I swear, we will find a way to end this nightmare without sacrificing you to the Ministry."

Aeryn's eyes narrowed. She sniffed and drew herself to her feet, keeping her face impassive as she stared down at the Potions master. "And without sacrificing you?" she asked coldly.

Their gazes locked. After a long, tense moment, Snape heaved himself to his feet, stumbling slightly in the process. Aeryn watched him coolly, not moving a muscle to assist him. Snape backed up a step and leaned against his desk, his chest heaving beneath his black robe.

"Once I am certain that you are safe," he said slowly, "I will go to Dumbledore and tell him what has happened."

Aeryn's chin lifted. "Everything?"

The Potions master nodded. "Everything."

Aeryn fell silent, watching him warily. The Potions master stumbled around his desk, clutching at the wooden surface like an old man trying to walk without the aid of his cane. With a small groan, he fell into his chair and leaned back, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. His black robe was wet, sticking to his thin body. Suddenly he spasmed in the chair, and he clutched his stomach, doubling over until his forehead hit the top of his desk. Aeryn remained motionless by the door, her skin crawling as the Potions master's breath hissed from his throat like steam from a teapot. Then Snape gave a strangled cry, and flopped back in his seat, his greasy hair matted against his sweat-streaked face.

For the very first time, a thread of pity worked its way through Aeryn's heart.

"Why is Lockhart doing this?" she asked softly.

Snape shut his eyes and gulped several large breaths. "I don't know," he whispered.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob. "I'm surprised he hasn't told the Headmaster what you've done."

A wheeze barked from Snape's chest, and it was a moment before Aeryn realized that he was laughing. "That's hardly his style, Miss Blake," he chuckled, picking a limp strand of hair from his face. "Read Marcus Aurelius: ‘Of each particular thing, ask what is it in itself—what is its nature?'"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aeryn snapped.

Snape shook his head wearily. "Lockhart would rather stand by and watch me destroy myself," he said, letting his hand fall to his side. "That way, his hands are clean."

Aeryn looked at the Potions master for a long, hard moment. His heavy breathing echoed in the still chamber. Very slowly, she turned the doorknob, but did not open the door. She wasn't sure if she believed him—if she wanted to believe him—but his sallow cheeks had gone gray, and as his jaw tightened in pain, she couldn't think of one reason to disbelieve what she had just heard.

Deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you?

"What are the withdrawal symptoms like?" she heard herself saying in a quiet, detached voice.

He slowly wiped a trickle of sweat away from his face with the back of his hand. For a moment, he struggled to breathe. Then he cracked open his eyes and his hot gaze fell on Aeryn. "At the very least, it's like...needles pulsing through my veins." A shudder twisted his body, and his lips tightened. "And then, at its worst..." His breaths became more labored. "...my blood is on fire, and it as if someone...is thrusting a sword into my stomach and twisting...."

He blindly brushed his fingertips before his eyes as if he were trying to clear them. "By day, I can almost handle it, but at night...." His voice dropped. "It's worst at night...."

Yes...every horrible second....

Aeryn's jaw clenched.

"Then I'll give you my answer in the morning," she said coldly, and stalked out of the office without looking back.