The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 25: Apocrypha

Aeryn climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower with a heavy heart, so deep in thought that she put her foot halfway through the invisible stair before she hopped backward with a sharp curse. "Fruitcake," she said as she reached the Fat Lady, who obligingly swung away from the portal. Aeryn ducked her head quickly as she entered the common room and hurried towards the stairs to the dormitory, her hands clenching into fists at her side as she prayed fervently that they would not--

"Oof!"

She rammed suddenly into a thin figure in her path, and she hastily drew back. A very startled and white-faced Harry Potter stood before her, holding up a hand to halt her progress. Aeryn blindly turned her face away and pushed past him, but he grabbed her wrist. "Aeryn, wait--"

"Let me go," she muttered between clenched teeth, jerking her arm free from his grasp and dragging herself forward. If she could make it to the entrance--

"What have you done to Professor Snape?" came a voice from a different direction.

The pale, quavering voice stopped Aeryn short. She turned slowly. Ron was seated at a table in the middle of the common room, his face pinched and his eyes wide as he stared at her. Aeryn watched him swallow hard and rise to his feet, his shoulders set. "What did you do to him?" he asked again.

Aeryn's eyes hardened. With heavy, deliberate steps, she walked towards her red-haired friend, watching as he strove valiantly not to flinch as she stopped before him. She drew the knife from her pocket, her eyes never leaving Ron's, and coldly tossed it across the table towards him. Ron drew back from it like it was a poisonous snake, and that gesture bit more deeply into Aeryn's heart than she would have imagined.

"Don't worry," Aeryn said, her voice unnaturally calm. "Your precious Potions master is unharmed."

Ron lifted his chin bravely. "Why--why didn't you ever tell us that you were a m-m..." He stumbled over the word, as if the effort of speaking it was too loathsome for him.

Aeryn closed her eyes to keep her pain from showing. "What difference would it have made?"

"You lied to us."

"I never gave you any reason to question my magical ability," Aeryn hissed, her hands clenching to fists at her side. She did not want to continue this conversation. With tightened lips, she whirled on her heel and started back for the dormitory entrance.

Ron called after her, his voice suddenly strong. "Have you been the one causing the attacks?"

Aeryn threw her head back and strained breath through her teeth that was achingly reminiscent of a sob. "No," she spat and hurried up the stairs, the painful pressure of her unshed tears building behind her eyes.

"Aeryn!"

Half-blinded, Aeryn whirled around to see Harry close on her heels. "What?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

The young boy awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose. For a moment, he looked at a loss for words. He shoved a hand through his unruly hair. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked finally. "I mean--Professor Snape--"

"What good would it have done?" Aeryn asked quietly.

Harry's eyes were very bright behind his black-rimmed glasses. "But--"

"You would have gone straight to Dumbledore if I'd told you anything," she said, cutting him off sharply with a wave of her hand. "And I couldn't let that happen, not if I valued my safety."

"But Snape--"

"But Snape nothing, Harry, don't you understand?" She could feel the beginnings of a breakdown wavering at the edge of her sanity, and she shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Besides, whatever there was going on between us, it's over now." Ignoring her friend's sudden sputter of protest, Aeryn hurried back up the rest of the stairs and into the second-year dormitory.

She was able to shut the door and throw herself on her bed before an incapacitating wave of tears burst over her.

* * *

Aeryn slammed the pillow over her ears and screwed her eyes shut, as if those simple acts would block out the imagined moans of agony ringing in her head. She gritted her teeth and forcefully decided that she would sleep, now, and lay very still. For a moment, it seemed as if it would work, but after several breathless heartbeats she swore, sitting up and throwing the covers off.

She looked around the second-year dormitory, painfully empty now that Hermione was in the hospital wing. Her lips tightened and she slapped a hand to her forehead.

She had sworn she would not do this. She was tired, deserved a good night's sleep after the events of today, and she didn't care how much the Potions master was suffering right now, he deserved to suffer, the bastard, after all he'd done to her--

By day, I can almost handle it

....

"No," Aeryn growled furiously, crossing her arms and flopping backwards onto her pillow. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She was going to get some sleep; she was not going to let him win this one....

But, like a bystander unable to tear her eyes away from the fatal wreck before her, Aeryn's mind slipped through the passageways of Hogwarts down to the Slytherin chambers, towards the Potions master's bedroom....

A blinding surge of white-hot agony met her questing mind and Aeryn gave a muffled squeak, pulling herself from the serpentine passageways as if she had been burned.

...but at night...

No, she would not...not give in...no matter how much he was suffering...he deserved it...he did, even if he wasn't totally responsible for his actions....

...it's worst at night...

Aeryn passed a hand wearily over her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, she swung her feet onto the cold floor, feeling around on the stone for her slippers. It was a simple thing to sneak from the nearly deserted Gryffindor Tower into the abandoned hallways. Grumbling slightly to herself, Aeryn kept her eyes and her mind alert in case a stray ghost--namely, Peeves the Poltergeist, who seemed to be trying to make up for all the time she had lain in the infirmary, free from his malicious meddling--decided to pop up and surprise her.

She muttered the password at the entrance to the Slytherin chambers and slipped into the empty common room. The large grandfather clock in the corner of the room suddenly rang the hour, startling her. With only the whisper of her feet to reveal her presence, she swept down a hallway to the Potion master's chambers, pushing open the heavy oaken door without bothering to knock.

The ever-present fire in Snape's elaborately carved fireplace had burned down to guttering coals, and the candelabras and globes of light were flickering, as if the effort to stay lit was too difficult. Aeryn blinked, straining to see in the half-lit room.

"Who is it?" rasped a shattered, unrecognizable voice from one of the couches.

Aeryn strained a breath between her teeth. The Potions master's voice sounded as if it had been smashed with a hammer and then rubbed with eighty-grit sandpaper. "It's me, as you damn well know." Her voice was low and unnaturally even.

"Ah. Miss Blake." Snape made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a chuckle, but was torn apart by a rusty, wracking cough. "I did wonder...when I could expect the pleasure of your company...I must say, though...this is sooner than I expected." His silhouette was a black splotch backlit by the smoldering remains of the fire. "Have you come to give me your answer?"

Aeryn took a step towards the couch, slowly feeling out before her with her mind. Even now, careful as she was not to quest into the Potions master's mind, she could feel the waves of pain wafting from him. She hugged her arms around herself, shivering slightly. The stone walls of Snape's chambers had leached the heat from the dying fire. "Turn on the lights," she said.

With eyes that were gradually adjusting to the blackness, Aeryn watched Snape raise a hand and weakly snap his fingers. "If the answer is no, I sincerely hope you've brought your knife with you," the Potions master said as the candelabras feebly sputtered, then struggled until a frail glow lit the room.

Snape was lying on one of the brocade couches before the fire. His black hair was slick and gleamed greasily as the light struck it. His robe was soaked with sweat and clung to his thin body. As she watched with slightly widened eyes, he winced, his colorless cheeks flushing a dark red.

"Do your best...to kill me quickly," the broken form muttered, his words catching in his throat. "I'm not in the mood...for a long, messy affair."

"Just--just--" Aeryn blinked, and suddenly, she felt the smoldering beginnings of rage welling in her throat. She swallowed hard and glared at him. How dare he--even in his weakened state--order her around--

"Shut up and--and don't talk," she snarled, whirling on her heel and stalking into his bedroom. Her heels bit into the thick green carpet as she marched to the bookshelf, trying her best to ignore his bed at the opposite end of the room. Gathering her anger about herself like a comfortable blanket, Aeryn ran her fingers along the leather-bound spines, every so often tearing a book from the shelf and then tossing it to the floor after a cursory glance.

"Miss Blake?" His voice was muffled by the distance.

She pulled out a thin, moldering volume. Thick gold letters were flaking across the front: Potare Apocrypha.

"What are you doing?"

She stomped back into the sitting room, holding the volume before her. "Is this the book?"

He stared up at her bewilderedly, his eyes hazed with fever. "What?"

"The book, the spellbook, the place where it says how to make this damned antidote!" Aeryn thrust it violently beneath his nose, watching with grim satisfaction as he recoiled slightly. "Is this it?"

The Potions master gazed, startled, at the cover of the book, then up at her. After a long moment, he licked his chapped lips and cleared his throat. "You're going--" he coughed "--to help me, then?"

Aeryn sighed and tossed the book onto an empty couch. "I'm only doing it so I can get a good night's sleep," she said, flouncing over to the coffee table before the fire. "Don't flatter yourself." She knelt and swept the table clear with her arm, cursing her weak conscience the entire time.

At least

I have a conscience...

She heard him struggle to sit up. The winded sound of his breathing cut piercingly into her ears. "The antidote--isn't in--any of my books," he gasped. "But I--can tell you--how to make it--"

She had figured as much. "Do you think I can do it?"

A sound like glass breaking issued from his throat. "I certainly hope so."

So did she. Aeryn shrugged, her expression harsh. "Where are the ingredients?"

"Over there--in the other room." Aeryn looked over her shoulder in time to see him fall off the couch. With a grimace, he clawed his way to a standing position and grabbed hold of the couch arm to steady himself. "I'll go get them."

Aeryn stood up quickly. "No, I'll go get them. You--" she pointed a finger at his hooked nose "--are going to sit there and coach me through the entire process." She shoved him back down onto the couch and hurried off into the other room.

* * *

Two hours later, Aeryn wearily closed her eyes and massaged the crick in the back of her neck. What little patience she had started with was now worn as thin as the rug she knelt upon. She stirred the bubbling cauldron sitting on the coffee table, her third attempt at making the antidote. It was easily the most difficult thing she had ever prepared. If only she had the damned thing written out...but it was challenging enough for Snape to get the names and measurements of the ingredients out of his mouth. After the first failed attempt, Aeryn had scribbled down a few of the trickier measurements on a scrap of paper. Unless Snape helped her with the timing, though, her attempts at making the antidote were worthless.

She glanced over at the empty couch where Snape had been sitting a moment prior. The Potions master was unable to stay in the presence of the antidote for more than five minutes at a time before he bolted to the bathroom, retching. The first few times, Aeryn had secretly been pleased and slightly amused, but after he had run away twice before she added the last teaspoonful of nightshade and the potion spoiled because he wasn't there to tell her when to put in the henbane, she had been ready to plunk the cauldron on top of his greasy black hair and go back to Gryffindor Tower.

She took one last glance at the mixture and tiredly blew out the flame at the bottom of the cauldron. This time around, she had made Snape stand next to her while she waited, her full spoon hovering above the cauldron, to add the final components. He had barely been able to get the words "Now, Miss Blake," from between his teeth before he dashed from the room, but it had been enough. The antidote had been completed--all that remained to be seen was if it worked.

She ladled a large dollop of the potion into a tumbler. The steaming liquid looked like it was supposed to--the consistency of gravy and the color of congealed blood. She sniffed it cautiously, then wrinkled her nose. It smelled worse than the Polyjuice Potion had tasted.

"Is it finished?"

Aeryn turned. Snape was leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, his face as colorless as egg whites as he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. He winced slightly, then hobbled back to the couch. His eyes glanced over the tumbler she held. "Is it finished?" he repeated, sitting down on the cushions.

Aeryn held the warm glass out to him. "Are you going to throw it all back up?"

He gave her a half-melted glare as he stretched out a hand to take the antidote. His long fingers locked around hers as he grasped the glass, but Aeryn valiantly suppressed her shudder.

Snape held the tumbler before his eyes for a long moment. Aeryn rocked back on her heels and watched him curiously as a very visible struggle creased his features. He cautiously raised the glass to his lips, then hesitated and pulled it away. Aeryn was just about to ask him if he needed her to force it down his throat when the muscles of his shoulders bunched in resolve. Determinedly, he pinched his nose and gulped the antidote down in four large swallows, his face crinkling like he was drinking boiling water.

The last swallow of antidote slipped down his throat, and Snape made a gagging noise, setting the tumbler down quite suddenly on the table and bringing his hands to his mouth. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Aeryn thought he was going to pass out. Then, he exhaled slowly and let his body slump back against the cushions. His hands fell to his sides and Aeryn watched as the tense lines in the Potions master's face smoothed in a mixture of relief and relaxation.

"Did it work?" she asked.

Snape drew a deep, slow breath. "We'll find out." He coughed, but the sound rattled less in his throat than usual. "The most powerful effects should start in about ten minutes."

"Ah." Aeryn nodded knowingly. "Like Tylenol."

Snape raised his head and looked questioningly at her.

Aeryn sighed. "Never mind." She yawned, stretched, and got to her feet, wincing as her knotted muscles protested at the sudden movement. Her eyes fell on the sweat-soaked face of the Potions master, and she shook her head in disgust. "Well, while you're waiting for that antidote to work, go clean yourself up," she said, picking up an empty bottle. "You look like hell."

Snape's eyes immediately narrowed at her order, but Aeryn very pointedly turned her back on him and began picking up the aftermath of her antidote preparation. She did not look back over her shoulder until she heard the wet rustle of his robes as he crawled from the couch and tottered off to his bedroom. Then, and only then, did a huge shudder wrack her body as Aeryn dropped her head into her hands.

Breathe...just breathe...

It took her a long time before she was able to lift her face again and stretch out a hand to finish clearing away the overturned and emptied ingredients. As she wiped up a smear of toad's blood, she levitated the cooling cauldron and poured the remaining antidote into a row of waiting tumblers. She filled five glasses with the gloppy mixture and covered them with squares of cheesecloth as she dropped the dirty utensils into the cauldron. The glasses and remaining ingredients floated into the other room, where they settled on respective shelves.

And all he has to do is drink the antidote,

Aeryn thought, chipping at a splotch of dried spider bile with her thumbnail. Weariness hung from her shoulders like a lead cape. Just drink it, and he'll be fine, back to normal. Her thumbnail broke suddenly, and Aeryn put it to her mouth with a yelp, a painful lump forming in her throat. But I... She curled her thumb into her palm, trying very hard not to cry. She picked up a damp cloth and angrily swiped it across the tabletop.

The sound of footsteps caused her to look up. Snape emerged from his bedroom dressed in simple black pants and a white shirt, rubbing his face with a towel. He slipped the towel around his neck and ran a hand through his wet hair--a hand that did not tremble. A natural sallow tinge had returned to the Potions master's cheeks, and he turned and looked at her with coal-black eyes that had not--quite--lost their unnatural luster, but had nonetheless regained their horribly piercing intensity....

The Potions master stopped in the middle of the room. "Miss Blake?" He stared at her, a very odd look on his face.

Pain was shooting up her arm. Aeryn looked idly down and saw that her fingers had turned as white as the rag she gripped. With more effort than she would have expected, she uncurled her hand and slowly rose to her feet. "You...you look well," she choked, hugging her arms around herself.

Snape, after a moment's hesitation, walked back to the couch. "That was a very difficult potion you prepared, Miss Blake." He settled himself on the cushions and threaded his fingers together. "Well done."

Aeryn jerked her chin over her shoulder. "There's five more doses in the other room."

Snape nodded. "Good." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two long fingers. "That will last me through tomorrow."

"What?"

Aeryn's eyes snapped open wide. She couldn't have heard him correctly. "How often do you have to take this?"

The Potion master shrugged. "Every four hours."

Aeryn pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the hysterical giggle welling in her throat. "Then I'm making a double batch tomorrow."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Miss Blake." Snape waved a hand and a glass of water appeared on the table next to him. He lifted it to his lips and drained the liquid. "The potion spoils after thirty hours."

Aeryn pressed her hands against her forehead. "I have to make this every day for you?" she groaned. "For how long?"

The Potions master set the glass back on the table. "As long as it takes...two months, maybe three."

"Three months?"

Snape had the good grace to remain silent.

"Fine." Aeryn sighed and placed her hands on her hips. She trained her eyes on the hollow of Snape's throat, not trusting herself to keep her composure if she looked at his face. "Like I said...you look well. Lockhart's going to know something's up the second he looks at you." She swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat grow larger with every passing breath. "You're going to have to pretend to take the Berserker's Mead so he's not suspicious when you're not stumbling around like a dying swan."

For some reason, those words were terribly difficult to get out of her mouth.

The ends of his hair were beginning to dry. It was surprisingly soft-looking.

He nodded. "That was my idea as well."

"Just don't really take it," Aeryn said softly. His shirt was very white, and looked as if it was made out of linen. "Or I'll kill you."

A heavy silence dropped between them.

It was funny, Aeryn mused, that when a person usually said those words, they were punctuated with a wry grin, a wink, or a slight chuckle. But she had no intention of making light of her threat.

Her muscles trembled with exhaustion.

Snape uncrossed his legs and started to stand. "Miss Blake--"

"Good night, Professor Snape," she said suddenly. Without another word, she marched across the room and hurried out of his chambers, hoping that he couldn't see the trembling of her jaw as she clenched her teeth together, trying to keep from crying.