The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 27: Absolution

At last the winter holidays ended, and with them the silence that had lain deep as the snow on the grounds. The students, flush from the warmth of Christmas and the safety of home and family, swooped upon Hogwarts buzzing with excitement for the new term. There was a flurry of rumor about Hermione's disappearance, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey placed curtains around Hermione's bed.

Aeryn was not spared so easily. Since she had not been released from the hospital wing until the last day of the previous term, many of the students had not seen her. Whispers left a hissing wake as she passed anyone from Slytherin, and the curious glances filled the Gryffindor common room. Aeryn, however, shrugged the rumors away like annoying bees, focusing her mind on more important things--for example, Potions class.

The tension in the air was palpable as Aeryn marched into the Potions dungeon, her head held high and her jaw set. Every eye in the place was instantly fixed on her, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Even Draco Malfoy fell silent and regarded her with solemn eyes as she marched across the room to her seat.

She could feel Snape's hot gaze drilling into her, and the collective pressure of the students as they waited breathlessly for the inevitable confrontation.

But there was no confrontation. As the bell rang, Snape calmly began pacing up and down the rows of desks, his voice level as he lectured about the restorative properties of feverfew and hedgehog quills. The students took down notes in awkward scribbles, and lingered half-hopefully by the door when the bell rang again, signaling the end of class. Their half-hopes were not to be granted, for Aeryn stalked past the Potions master without even a glance.

Eventually, as the weeks stretched on, the class settled into normality.

* * *

Aeryn hesitantly tapped the red-haired boy's shoulder. "Ron?"

Ron slowly set down his book and turned in his seat to look at her. Aeryn tried to keep her face normal, so he couldn't tell that her heart was pounding in her chest like a bass drum. His pale face was stoic beneath his freckles, but even though she couldn't read his emotions, Aeryn knew that even he wouldn't make a scene in the middle of the crowded Gryffindor common room. After a long, tense moment, she eased herself into a chair next to him, hoping that the beads of sweat forming on her brow weren't too obvious.

"How's it going?" she asked after a moment.

Ron looked away from her and down at his closed book. "Fine." His voice was dull and flat.

Aeryn unconsciously clasped and unclasped her hands before her on the desk, idly playing with her fingers and wincing slightly with the occasional pop of her knuckles. "Good." She had barely spoken with the boy since the confrontation in the hospital wing before the end of the holiday. He, Harry, and Aeryn still went everywhere together--a semblance of normality was necessary, especially in the tight-knit community of Gryffindor House--but neither he nor Aeryn carried on conversation or glanced at each other. Aeryn could very well imagine how hard it must be for Harry, or for Hermione when they visited her nightly in the hospital wing.

She cleared her throat nervously. "Um..." She motioned to the book. "What are you reading?"

"Book about the Chudley Cannons," Ron grunted, his eyes flitting about the dark wood of the table.

"Oh, Quidditch." Aeryn nodded. The book was bound in orange leather, and she could see a picture of figures zipping about on brooms tossing the Quaffle to each other, and every once in a while, a player falling off his broom. "I don't know any of the teams yet. Are the...Cannons good?"

Ron shrugged.

The air between them was redolent with tension. After an awkward, silent moment, Aeryn leaned across the table and placed her hand next to Ron's. "Look, Ron," she began, keeping her voice low so the other students at nearby tables wouldn't overhear, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before about--"

Ron's chair jerked backwards with a clatter, cutting off Aeryn's words as cleanly as a knife blade. She bit her lip as he scooped his book into his arms and silently cursed herself. If only she could....

The red-haired boy paused at Aeryn's shoulder. There was a flicker of orange in the candelabra light, and a heavy weight dropped into her lap.

"You can read it if you like," Ron muttered, and quickly disappeared before Aeryn could gather her wits to speak.

Aeryn's cold fingers gently caressed the orange binding of the book, and a faint smile twitched her lips as she got to her feet.

It was, at least, a beginning.

* * *

The labyrinthine hallways of the Hogwarts underground were uncommonly deserted, even for a school night, but Aeryn kept her mind alert as she wove her way from the Slytherin dungeon. It would not do to encounter a stray student or wandering ghost, not at this hour of the night, and certainly not so near the Slytherins. If she were somewhere on the main hallway she could possibly explain--a sudden scurry caught Aeryn's attention and she shrank back against the wall, but it was only a mouse looking for scraps in the hallways.

It was nearly the end of January, although the weeks had seemed interminable to Aeryn. With the students back at Hogwarts, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to slip from Gryffindor Tower into the Slytherin dungeon without being noticed. After a two-week headache from trying to remain invisible, Aeryn decided to make Snape's antidote at any opportunity when she could be unnoticed. She was very late to several classes for a few days before she was able to eke out a routine. Mealtimes were always a useful opportunity, as well as nights when huge events were scheduled. This particular day, Aeryn had not found a break to prepare the antidote until very late in the evening when the common rooms were deserted. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

She turned a corner and collided sharply with a brilliant fuchsia robe.

The figure turned and flashed a brilliant toothy grin at her. "Miss Blake!" exclaimed Gilderoy Lockhart, his forget-me-not-blue eyes twinkling. "Good heavens, look at the hour--shouldn't you be back in your dorm?" With a sharp tsk, he wagged a mock-stern finger at her. "Naughty girl--sneaking out after hours! But don't worry, my dear, I won't take any points away from your House." He winked in a comradely fashion.

Aeryn took a quick step back, hoping that the look on her face was suitably benign. "Um--" She forced a grin onto her face and shrugged. Ever since she had discovered the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's role in Snape's illness, she had not spoken with the handsome man one-on-one. Aeryn could feel her heart pounding frantically inside her ribcage, but she could not let it show--must not give the game away. "Thanks, Professor. If you'll excuse me, I should get back to Gryffindor Tower--"

Lockhart nodded his assent. "Certainly, certainly--it is a school night, after all--" He took a step back.

"Thanks," Aeryn murmured.

"But you really shouldn't be wandering the hallways alone," he exclaimed brightly and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, reining her back with a jerk. With a swift movement, he neatly tucked her stiff arm into the crook of his elbow. "Why, just last week, I discovered a small clutch of ghouls playing kick-the-can over in an abandoned hallway on the second floor," he said, beginning to stroll down the hallway with Aeryn in tow. "I, of course, dispersed of them quite quickly, but I can only imagine the trouble they would have given to a person of lesser talent. No, Miss Blake, in light of recent developments, I really must insist that you allow me to escort you back to your dormitory."

Aeryn wondered fleetingly what the professor had been doing in an abandoned hallway as she fought the urge to tear herself from his touch. Every fiber of her being crawled at his presence, but if she were to let her displeasure show, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would instantly realize that something was afoot--after all, the cowed, beaten Aeryn she was supposed to play would have no reason to suspect Lockhart's involvement in the Snape saga.

"All right," she said after a moment, swallowing the lump of disgust rising in her throat and letting a small smile twitch her lips. "Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," Lockhart said breezily as they walked down the deserted corridor. "Tell me, how are you enjoying your second term?"

"Just fine, thank you." She was trying to walk in such a way that only her hand was touching him. It was a very awkward way to walk, but Aeryn knew that if even the slightest fold of his robe brushed her skin, she would scream.

"And classes?" Lockhart did not seem to notice her discomfort as they turned a corner. "Of course, not all lessons can be as fabulously enjoyable as mine--speaking of which, what did you think about this afternoon's lesson? I think Mr. Potter did a highly suitable job of pretending to be a blight-eaten horde of zombies--granted, he's still got a ways to go before he's as consummate an actor as me, but still, he's passable."

"Mmm." Aeryn bit her lip, looking with extreme interest at the tapestries padding the walls. The palm of her hand was beginning to sweat against the fabric of Lockhart's robe. She coughed politely and halted, trying to slip her hand from his elbow to cover her mouth.

His hand clamped down suddenly upon hers.

"As passable an actor as Professor Snape, I would imagine," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor said quietly, the bantering tone gone from his voice.

Aeryn's heart gave a great leap in her chest. Her eyes slowly traveled up to Lockhart's face and found his handsome features, usually so cheerful and comfortingly benign, suddenly expressionless. A horrified, sickly smile twitched her lips. "Wha...what?" she choked, hoping that her interpretation of his meaning was horribly wrong.

"Of course, I wouldn't be in the position to judge his abilities," Lockhart murmured, his voice low and cold as he raked Aeryn's body with his eyes. "Acting or otherwise."

She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"I would expect a wiry old chap like him to have a lot of pent-up frustration...in more ways than one."

His eyes were unreadable as he said the words. Aeryn licked her parched lips. "I..." She stumbled back a step, but his grip on her did not slacken. All of a sudden, it was very difficult to breathe. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"How has Potions been, Miss Blake?" The coldest of smiles twitched Lockhart's lips. "I don't mean your regularly scheduled classes--though I'm sure they're quite stimulating in a different sense--I mean your one-on-one study sessions." His eyes glittered. "At night. In his chambers."

With a sharp yank, Aeryn tore her hand from his grasp and stepped backwards, every muscle in her body instantly alert. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor grinned again with a smile that could freeze the Sahara as he took a slow step towards her.

"You know, Miss Blake," he purred, "as grand as it is being Magical Me, there are moments when I ache to be that foul black-haired Potions master."

His hands lightninged towards her. Aeryn threw herself to the side and frantically dashed towards the staircase, but Lockhart's fingers wrapped around her wrist as she shot past him. Before she could tear herself away, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor swung her with all his might and sent her crashing into the wall. As the breath wheezed from her lungs, Lockhart grabbed Aeryn's jaw and firmly smashed the back of her head against the stoneiHisswung her with all h.

Bursts of light exploded before her eyes and Aeryn groaned, slumping back against the wall. Unconsciousness claimed her for a moment; then, she became dimly aware of a hand fumbling at her bodice. She cracked open her eyes to see the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's face bare inches from hers.

"Let me go," she snarled weakly over the waves of pain roiling in her skull.

In answer, her shoulder blades were slammed back even harder against the wall. "Oh, but you don't say that to him, now do you?" Lockhart hissed. "And all because he knows that you're a mutant." A cold chuckle rasped in his throat as her eyes grew wide. "Don't be surprised, little sparrow--he's told me all about you."

Get away. Now.

Aeryn thrashed sideways, but was rewarded with a stinging backhand across her face that left her gasping. Her head--if only--she tried to reach out with her mutant powers, but she was unable to concentrate with the agony throbbing through her skull--

"Such a wonderful power a little knowledge can bring, don't you think?" His hand groped for her left breast and squeezed it hard.

"Stop--"

"I've given you plenty of opportunities to run to me for help," he spat through gritted teeth. A huge gargoyle leered from the corner of the hallway and Lockhart threw Aeryn at its feet with a bestial growl.

"Opening my office to you--"

There was a sharp riiiip as he hooked a hand in her skirt and savagely tore it sideways.

"Dropping hints--"

Aeryn sat up weakly with muscles that had suddenly gone limp.

"Didn't think of coming to me, did you?" There was no beauty in the face that loomed over her. Lockhart's cheeks were flushed a dark red, and his blue eyes glittered like knife blades in the flickering torchlight. Aeryn struggled to rise to her feet, tried to aim a well-placed kick into his crotch, but he swooped down on her and pinned her arms to her sides.

"What's the matter, songbird?" he snarled.

The stone gargoyle's features were cold and expressionless in the torchlight.

My head...

"Tell me, pretty wren," hissed Gilderoy Lockhart. His blond hair caught the torchlight and silhouetted his face in a frame of yellow fire.

The pain...

"Was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor not good enough for you?"

"No--"

Lockhart reached beneath Aeryn's torn skirt and yanked her panties down.

"Stop--"

He drove his foot between Aeryn's legs, forcing her thighs open.

"Please--"

He stepped between her legs and knelt, pulling the hem of his robe up to his waist as he pressed her back against the gargoyle with his other hand. Aeryn writhed against him, trying to push him away, to break herself free, but her movements were sluggish, hindered by the blinding pain echoing behind her eyes, and he was so heavy--

A black splotch hurtled from the shadows of the half-lit corridor, and a hand suddenly grabbed Lockhart's shoulder. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor leapt to his feet and spun around, his features twisted in rage, and the black-robed figure behind him smashed a fist into his handsome jaw before he could breathe a word. Lockhart tumbled to the floor with a pained cry, clutching his face in his hands.

Professor Snape's head whipped around and he looked at Aeryn. Anger and shame heated her cheeks as she hurriedly wrapped her arms around herself to keep him from seeing what Lockhart had done, but his coal-black gaze instantly saw everything. His nostrils flared as a horrible rage tightened the muscles of his face. After a long moment, he slowly turned back to the fallen Lockhart.

Aeryn's breath came in short little gasps as she crawled to her feet, clumsily gathering her torn garments around her. Her head was light, as if the slightest touch would send it bouncing from her shoulders, and she leaned against the stone sentinel, trying to control the trembling in her muscles. Snape did not turn to look at her, but took a small step backwards until he was directly in front of her, shielding her from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Lockhart's fuchsia robes rustled as he crawled to his feet, whimpering slightly. Aeryn peered around Snape's shoulder, her eyes wide and slightly glazed with pain. Lockhart gingerly put a finger in his mouth and wiggled a few teeth. He pulled his hand away reddened with blood, choked, and turned his head to glare blisteringly at Snape.

"Lockhart." Snape spat the name from his throat like a curse.

With what appeared to be a great effort, Lockhart drew himself up into a standing position. "Severus." His glittering blue eyes darted from the Potions master's face, to Aeryn, and then back again. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his lips. "What are you doing here?"

Aeryn could see Snape's muscles tighten beneath his black robe as he struggled, obviously trying not to lash out at the other professor. "I think the question should be what you are doing here, Gilderoy," he said in a voice knotted with rage.

A myriad of warring emotions crossed the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's features, and Aeryn held her breath. But a slow, evil smile split his face, showing reddened teeth as he cautiously touched his jaw. "What's the matter, old chap?" he asked quietly. The words were slightly slurred. "A little jealous, are we?"

"I'm not a jealous man, Gilderoy." Snape's clenched fists were white. "I just don't like other people touching my things."

Lockhart laughed, the blood from his mouth glistening in the light with his movement. Shaking his head disbelievingly, he spread his hands. "But can you blame me, Sev?" He gestured towards Aeryn, his eyes hardening in satisfaction at her flinch. "I mean, look at her!"

He stepped forward, but Snape's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his robe.

"You can look all you want, Gilderoy," Snape snarled, "but she's mine."

The Potions master blocked Aeryn from seeing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face, but she saw his body go very still. For a very long moment, there was a heavy silence. "Oh, Severus," Lockhart murmured finally. "Be a sport." A throaty chuckle echoed from his throat, and he slowly reached up a hand to loosen Snape's grasp on his robe. "Haven't you ever heard of sharing?"

Snape's shoulders hunched. "I don't share my things," he growled. He shoved Lockhart away from him and moved back to Aeryn's side, keeping his eyes trained on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Sev, how selfish of you," Lockhart pouted, tossing his blond head. His periwinkle-blue eyes latched on Aeryn and a perfectly slimy look crossed his face. "Come on, it might be fun..." His fuchsia robe fluttered as he sauntered towards her. "We could go back to your chambers...have a drink...perhaps a nice little late-night ménage á trois..." His grin grew wider at Aeryn's horrified look. "They say three's company," he purred.

With a swift motion, he lunged for her, but Snape was quicker. He grabbed Aeryn's waist and pulled her to him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Three may be company, but it's also a crowd," he muttered. Aeryn could feel the tautness of his muscles through his robe. "No, Gilderoy. She's all mine."

Lockhart stiffened as if he had been slapped. His jaw clenched as he leveled his gaze at Snape. "I gave her to you," he spat in a low, cold voice, "and I can just as easily take her away."

Snape wrapped his arms securely around Aeryn. "Try it," the Potions master snarled, "and I'll break your neck."

The pure hatred in their eyes nearly blistered the air as the two professors' gazes locked. The silence was suffocating, and Aeryn willed herself not to shudder, not to even move as her teachers stared at each other, each one silently willing the other to give quarter.

Long, overpowering moments passed. Then, finally, the glass-hard features of Gilderoy Lockhart relaxed slightly, and he heaved a short, explosive sigh. He smiled, a rueful, angry gesture, and flung his hands helplessly in the air. "Well, if you're quite sure," he said, the lightness of his tone not quite hiding the underlying steel of his words.

Snape's fingers tightened across Aeryn's back.

Lockhart tossed his blond locks, his handsome face once again benign and cheerful. He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand down his robe, smoothing out the imperceptible wrinkles. "Have fun, Sev. I'll just have to settle for my imagination and my right hand." One periwinkle-blue eye shuttered in a lewd wink, and, with a flurry of fuchsia robes, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sauntered down the hallway, humming to himself as he faded out of sight in the flickering torchlight.

Aeryn's knees buckled and she slumped against the Potions master. Something warm and sticky was running down the back of her neck...her head...the pain...Snape tried to steady her as she collapsed; then, as she attempted unsuccessfully to regain her footing, Snape scooped her from the ground and started off down the hallway. Aeryn instinctively curled up in his arms, resting her pounding head against his chest.

"Where are you taking me?" It was impossible to keep the quaver from her voice.

"Someplace safe," the Potions master said in a low voice. He hurried with her down the darkened corridors to the Slytherin dungeons, barely pausing long enough to hiss the password before he rushed into the common room. Aeryn kept her eyes screwed firmly shut until they reached Snape's private chambers. Save for her throbbing head, her entire body felt numb, as if she had been given a heavy dose of Novocaine.

As carefully as if she had been made of glass, the Potions master laid Aeryn down on a couch before the fireplace. She shakily sat up, folding her legs beneath her and hugging herself tightly. She could still feel Lockhart's hands burning into her body. Aeryn chewed her lip, trying to fight back the growing lump in her throat, and barely noticed when Snape sat next to her on the couch.

"Miss Blake. Look at me."

Aeryn kept her eyes firmly fixed on the brocade of the couch. Like the rest of Snape's décor, the fabric was of dark, rich colors that drank the firelight. The terror that had locked her muscles was beginning to melt, leaving her trembling.

He slowly reached a hand for her face, and Aeryn instinctively flinched back before he could touch her.

"Miss Blake, you're bleeding." His voice was unnaturally low and even. "Let me help you."

She did not pull away when he reached for her a second time. Snape very gently cupped her face between his hands and drew her head against his chest. Aeryn closed her eyes, letting the cool silk of his robe soothe her skin. His long fingers delicately grazed the throbbing place at the back of her head, moving even more softly when she winced. He murmured several words that Aeryn could not understand, pressing his fingertips at the base of her skull, and a cool numbness spread from his fingers to blanket the pulsing ache.

"It's a wonder he didn't kill you," the Potions master whispered, as if to himself, but Aeryn heard him clearly.

The pain had completely leached from her head. She drew away from him, gingerly putting a hand to the back of her skull. Her hair was sticky with blood, but she felt nothing, not even when she pressed firmly against the place where she had hit the wall. Being very careful not to look at the Potions master, she probed out cautiously with her mutant powers. An open book on the coffee table slammed shut in response, and she silently breathed a sigh of relief.

A goblet of water appeared suddenly beneath her nose. "Here. Drink this."

Aeryn took the goblet from him and sipped from it, then nearly spit out a mouthful of water as Snape suddenly ran a hand through her hair.

"Relax," he said, resting his other hand on her shoulder at her startled jump. "I'm only cleaning the blood away."

Aeryn closed her eyes and buried her nose in the goblet, hoping against hope that he couldn't feel her shaking. It was very difficult to drink water from hands that were trembling like poplar leaves. Several moments later, Aeryn's hair and the back of her neck were slightly damp, but clean, when Snape banished a bloodstained cloth into thin air. She drew a deep breath and wordlessly placed the empty goblet on the coffeetable.

Snape rose to his feet and walked over to the fireplace, resting a hand on the mantel. A black blotch backlit by the blaze, he did not turn to look at her. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled by the snapping of the flames. "As soon as you're ready, I'll escort you back to Gryffindor Tower."

An image of the evilly grinning Lockhart, lurking behind the myriad corners of the passageways, flew Technicolor into the cinema of her mind. He was out there, in the hallways, beyond the walls of the dungeons. An unconscious whimper escaped from Aeryn's throat. "No." The word was rusty as an oiled gate. She gulped a huge breath, feeling her cheeks flush as the pounding of her heart accelerated. "I--I can't, I--"

The soft rustle of his robes interrupted her as he turned away from the mantel. "Miss Blake, I will make sure nothing happens to you." Backlit as he was by the flames, she could not see his features, but his voice was surprisingly gentle. "I promise."

Aeryn shook her head violently. "No." Her shoulders twitched at the memory of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor slamming her against the wall, whispering into her ear, reaching beneath her skirt..."Don't make me go," she choked.

Snape started forward. "Miss Blake--"

Aeryn blindly turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut. If he made her walk out of these rooms--even stand up from the couch--she knew she would lose it. There was no way she could make it to Gryffindor Tower. "Please," she whispered. I ache to be that foul black-haired Potions master, Gilderoy Lockhart leered in her mind, and Aeryn whimpered, clamping hands on the sides of her face as if the pressure could wring the memories from her brain. "I can't--go out there."

The light pooled in Snape's hawkish features, accentuating the concern edging his coal-black eyes. "Miss Blake, I can't allow you to stay here."

"Please

," Aeryn sobbed. She was hyperventilating now, her body shaking uncontrollably. There was no way she could leave the room--not if it had suddenly burst into flame, filled with poisonous smoke, or even if the Dark Lord himself was suddenly standing before her. She raised her tear-rimmed eyes to the professor's face. "I...no...please no..."

Snape's lips tightened. Aeryn hiccupped. The Potions master's features creased with a visible struggle, and Aeryn held her breath for a long moment, waiting to see what he would say. Then Snape sighed, a harsh, explosive sound, and roughly rose to his feet. "Fine," he muttered, yanking his wand from his belt. "I'll call up McGonagall."

Aeryn's eyes followed him warily. "Why?"

Snape glared down at her. "Because when my Slytherins see you creeping from my chambers tomorrow morning, I don't want her getting the wrong impression," he snapped, his words taking on the clipped quality he reserved for chastising Neville Longbottom in Potions. "If I am to be dismissed from my job for sleeping with a student, I would prefer the charge not to be for the one night that I am innocent of blame." He paused, and a cold, self-deprecating smile twisted his lips. "The irony would be almost too much."

He swept into the opposite room, and Aeryn slumped back against the pillows of the couch, utterly drained. The sharp click of heels against the stone floor alerted her a few minutes later, and she raised her head to watch Snape stalk back into the sitting room, his jaw set as he carried a white parlus globe in his right palm. He stopped before Aeryn and shoved his hand beneath her nose, his coal-black eyes glittering.

"She wants to speak with you," he said tersely.

Aeryn eyed the glowing globe cautiously.

"Just do it." Snape's voice was tight. Then, in a lower voice: "Don't let her see your torn clothes, or she'll be down here before you can say ‘untraceable poisons.'"

Blood was pounding in Aeryn's throat. She swallowed hard and focused her gaze into the parlus bubble. "Professor McGonagall?" She was unable to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Miss Blake." The deputy headmistress' clipped voice was tinny and irritated. "Professor Snape tells me that you fell ill this evening while helping him with a Potions experiment. Why were you performing experiments this late in the evening?"

"Uh..." Aeryn's lips were as dry as parchment. She roughly cleared her throat, feeling her stomach lurch within her. "I didn't expect it would take this long, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes, minimized by the globe of light, were still able to glare Aeryn down. "He also says that you wish to remain in his rooms for the evening." Her face hardened. "I cannot approve of this."

Don't panic.

"I--I don't feel well, Professor," Aeryn murmured. That at least was the truth. She smiled weakly, hoping that her teeth wouldn't chatter. "I think it's best if I stay where I am and...get a good night's rest."

"If you're feeling that poorly, Miss Blake," snapped the deputy headmistress, "you should spend the night in the infirmary, not in a teacher's chambers. It is not acceptable."

Aeryn's stomach flip-flopped. The last thing she needed was a thorough once-over by Madam Pomfrey's all-seeing eyes. "I don't need the infirmary, Professor. I just don't think I can make it up to Gryffindor Tower." At the moment, she wasn't even sure if she could rise from the couch. "I'll be fine in the morning. Honest."

McGonagall's lips firmed in a line of displeasure. Aeryn could almost see her chance fading away before her eyes, and she desperately grasped for the only lifeline she could think of. "Professor, nothing is going to happen between--"

"All right, Miss Blake," Professor McGonagall cried, and Aeryn quickly swallowed the rest of her phrase. The deputy headmistress sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead. "Let me speak with Professor Snape," she said finally.

Snape took the globe and whirled away into the opposite room with a swirl of black robes. His raised voice, muted slightly by the distance, rang through the walls with interspersed pauses while the deputy headmistress, no doubt, had her say. Several minutes later, the Potions master returned to the sitting room, grumbling to himself.

"What did she say?" Aeryn asked cautiously, bracing herself for his answer.

Snape pushed a long hand through his black hair, frustration etching his angular features. "She explained to me how much I was jeopardizing my teaching position with these shenanigans, and told me a number of times that she did not approve of the situation." He turned his back on Aeryn and paced to the fireplace, his shoulders set. "After I explained to her that we would sleep in separate rooms and I had no intention of taking advantage of you, she said she would not force you to come back to Gryffindor Tower."

Sweet, sweet relief flooded through Aeryn's body.

"I told her rather forcefully that if I intended anything immoral," Snape said, laughing bitterly, "I wouldn't be asking her permission for you to spend the night."

Her body relaxed against the cushions of the couch. For the evening at least, she was safe. Whatever happened to her in the morning...she could handle it, she could take it, even the disbelieving stares of her classmates or the hard, disapproving glare of Professor McGonagall. For one night, she could allow herself to drop the façade that everything was fine. Right now, that stress would have been unbearable.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A deep silence fell, broken only by the soft snapping of the fire.

The rustle of robes echoed in the air as, after a long moment, Snape turned and walked towards her. "That couch is sure to be uncomfortable." He leaned down and held out his hand. "I'll help you to the bedroom."

"No!"

The word exploded from Aeryn's throat as she recoiled away from the Potions master, her eyes widening in horror.

Snape pulled back. He opened his mouth as if to make a reply, but then his coal-black eyes caught on her terrified face. His features softened slightly. "I see," he said quietly.

Aeryn looked away from him.

"Very well, then." He stepped away from her. "Will you be comfortable enough out here? There's a comforter across the back of your couch, and a few throw pillows next to you."

Aeryn nodded. "Yes, thank you." She was suddenly very cold, and she shivered.

"Can I bring you anything?" His voice was light.

She shook her head. "No."

There was a brief silence, and Aeryn glanced into the fireplace, watching the intoxicating dance of the flames. She was brought out of her reverie as the Potions master cleared his throat sharply, his heels clicking on the stone floor as he walked towards his bedroom. "Then good night, Miss Blake."

Her eyes followed him. "Professor Snape?"

Snape paused his hand resting on the threshold of his bedroom. He turned and glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Aeryn swallowed, lacing her fingers across a throw pillow. Perhaps she should not ask...but no, she had to know. "What...what were you doing..." Her voice was weak even to her own ears, but she drew a deep breath and forced the words out of her throat. "Why were you in the hallway? Tonight?"

His features were impossible to see through the shadows flickering in the room. When the Potions master finally spoke, his voice was oddly smooth. "You were screaming inside my head," he said simply, and without another word, he disappeared through the darkened doorway of his bedroom.

* * *

There was water everywhere, above, below, beside her...Aeryn flailed her arms desperately, feeling the oxygen burning away to nothingness in her lungs, trying to claw her way to the surface, but it was so dark, and she couldn't tell if her feeble attempts were drawing her to the surface or pulling her to the bottom

....

A brilliant white light flashed before her eyes, to the side of her, and Aeryn kicked frantically towards it. The water suddenly turned murky around her, black as India ink, and as she paused, confused, the brilliant light coalesced before her into a grinning Gilderoy Lockhart.

A silent stream of bubbles poured from Aeryn's lips as she screamed, flailing backwards in the water. Lockhart reached forward and grabbed her, and suddenly she was back at home, her parents' home in Michigan. She struggled. She was seated on a chair, and her hands and legs were bound. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher giggled manically before her.

"Too bad you never finished reading my memoirs," he said, raising his wand. Aeryn strained against the ropes, but they held fast. She turned her head to the side, looking for a way to escape, and her eyes grazed across a familiar figure.

"Daddy," she pleaded. "Help me."

Her father, holding her mother by the hand, walked over to Lockhart's side. Roger Blake turned sad eyes on his daughter and shook his head.

"It's too late, Aeryn," he murmured.

Fiona's face was sober. "This is no time to shirk your responsibility, darling," she said.

Aeryn opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off as Lockhart raised his arms and cried

"Avada Kedavra!" A sickly green light shot from the end of his wand and enveloped Aeryn's parents, who dropped to the ground as if felled by an ax.

Aeryn shrieked, and the professor turned, but this time it was Snape who glared her down.

"Quid pro quo, Miss Blake," he hissed, and with one powerful move, he dashed Aeryn from the chair and flung her across the room.

Her shoulders struck the wall, and the stones crumbled away against the impact, and suddenly Aeryn was falling, falling through a blackness deeper than the night sky, and her limbs flailed uselessly as she dropped through the pit, the light above her growing dimmer and dimmer, and a high-pitched, evil laughter echoed above her, and suddenly she was grabbed by unseen hands and shaken back and forth, rattling her until it felt that her teeth would come loose, and an urgent voice was calling her name, Miss Blake, Miss Blake, wake up--

"Miss Blake!"

Someone had her by the shoulders and was firmly shaking her. Aeryn's eyes flew open. For one terrifying moment, she thought she was still hurtling down the dark pit, and she cried out, sitting up and tearing herself away from the figure. A cold sweat poured down her back, making her robe cling to her body, and she shuddered, bringing her hands to her face.

The figure before her snapped his fingers, and the room lit with a soft glow. Professor Snape, clad in a long gray nightshirt and looking slightly tousled, slowly sat down on the arm of the couch. His eyes were underlined with black half-circles. As her mind began to emerge from the haze of the nightmare, Aeryn belatedly remembered where she was.

"You were screaming." The Potions master's voice was hollow.

Aeryn drew a deep, shaky breath. She ran a hand absently down her robe, and her fingers snagged in the torn fabric. She looked down, slightly surprised to feel the loose threads beneath her fingertips, and the memory of the hallway encounter came whirling back to her with a blinding force. Her stomach lurched.

"Are you all right?"

She swallowed, feeling bile rise in her throat. The sweat on her body was beginning to dry, and she shivered. She did not want him here. The memory of Lockhart and the remnants of the nightmare were too close, too real, and she did not want him to see her fear. She opened her mouth to say that she was fine, that she was all right, and that he could go back to his room and leave her alone...

"Miss Blake?"

But even in the half-lit room, the flickering shadows were so dark...

"No," she whispered, staring into the smoldering embers of the fireplace. "No, I'm not all right."

She waited for him to reply, but the Potions master said nothing.

"I always think that I'm okay, that no matter what happens to me I can handle it," Aeryn said finally, her voice soft. A bitter smile twitched her lips, and she brought her knees up under her chin. The room was so cold. "Because I'm strong."

Snape did not speak. Aeryn squeezed her eyes shut. There was a hard lump growing in the base of her throat, and she swallowed, as if the motion would dissolve it.

...the brilliant light coalesced before her into a grinning Gilderoy Lockhart...

She shuddered. "But then, just when I think I'm fine, when I've got everything under control...something happens..."

...Quid pro quo, Miss Blake, he hissed, and with one powerful move, he dashed Aeryn from the chair and flung her across the room....

The lump in her throat grew larger. "Something that jars me, brings my guard down..."

...Tell me, pretty wren, was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor not good enough for you....

Her breath rattled in her throat. "And then...it all floods over me ...and I'm back..." She clenched her teeth together, feeling the painful beginnings of tears gather in the corner of her eyes. "I'm back in your bedroom, and..."

...No more subterfuge, Miss Blake. I am tired of my advances being ignored....

"And you..." She choked on unshed tears. "I can still feel your hands on my skin...in..."

...Seventy points...for Gryffindor

....

She gave a soft whimper and buried her head in her hands, trying to shut out the overwhelming flood of memories.

Snape hesitantly laid a hand on Aeryn's back. "Miss Blake--"

Aeryn flinched away from his touch. "Please don't," she whispered brokenly.

A long, heavy silence fell. Aeryn buried her face in her knees and tried to calm her breathing. In, out, in, out...her hands tightened around her legs. She had let her guard down, something she had sworn she would not do in front of him. The silence around her suddenly caused her cheeks to flare. She bit her lip furiously.

"Miss Blake."

Aeryn slowly raised her head and looked at the Potions master. His lean, sallow face was expressionless in the soft light of the room, but his coal-black eyes were filled with a caustic bitterness. He shrugged, a gesture that looked almost as if it was an afterthought, and the tiniest flicker twitched the edge of his lip. There was pity in his eyes, cold, stark pity like that of a detached observer, and suddenly Aeryn felt the tremors in her hand and the sweat drying on her back, and she was filled with fury.

Snape's eyes glistened in the light. "If I could," he said, his voice so low and quiet that it was almost a whisper, "if it was in my power to go back--I would--"

"You would what?" she interrupted fiercely. Anger filled her every fiber; anger at him, anger at Lockhart, and most of all, anger at herself for being weak and helpless before him. "What, Professor?" She hissed the words through clenched teeth. "You--would--what?"

At her words, the Potions master gave an almost-imperceptible flinch. He leaned forward across the couch. From the drawn look that spread across his face, he must have realized immediately that he had said the wrong thing. "Miss Blake--"

Aeryn snorted and waved her hand sharply, cutting him off. "Oh, no. You don't have to tell me. I already know." She grimaced. "You've already given your answer on that subject, and oh so very eloquent it was."

Confusion flickered across Snape's features. "I don't--"

"I heard you," she snapped, hysteria beginning to edge her voice. "I heard you, I heard you, I was standing right there, and you told Lockhart how much you enjoyed it!" She could see him sitting in his office, his face pale as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher taunted him that cold, Christmas evening, the scene as vivid as if it was happening that very moment. "Every second, you said, without even caring that I was standing there, listening to every word you said."

Snape's face grew rigid.

"Don't you dare pretend that you care about the hell you put me through," she snarled softly. "If you had the chance, you'd do it all over again."

A faint color stained his sallow cheeks. "That's not true," he protested.

"Oh, yeah?" She clenched her fists tightly, glaring furiously at him. Her pulse pounded furiously in her ears like a drum. "Prove it to me, Professor! Tell me what you really meant when you said that deep down you enjoyed it!" She leaned forward, her slate-blue gaze blistering into his face. "Give me one good reason," she growled bitterly, "why I should believe anything you've ever said to me."

Their gazes locked. Aeryn's heart hammered loudly in her chest, but she refused to lower her glare. She had to know. A visible struggle crossed Snape's face as he stared at her, and Aeryn could almost see the myriad thoughts threading through his brain. Then, almost instantaneously, his features smoothed as if stroked by an invisible hand, leaving only his coal-black eyes smoldering. He rose to his feet slowly and he fixed a glare at her down his hooked nose that would have sent the most hardened seventh year into a trembling fit.

"All right, Miss Blake." His voice was clipped and cold. "Since you have asked, I will tell you the truth. I was not entirely honest with you regarding the effects that the Berserker's Mead has on a person." His lips twitched, and he swallowed before continuing. "As I told you before, it brings to light the most basic emotions of our psyche, but I neglected to mention..." He paused, and his jaw clenched tightly. "...that...."

Aeryn leaned forward slightly.

"The emotions are..." Snape coughed awkwardly and closed his eyes for a half-second. "Ones that...are already in the forefront of the person's mind," he said hurriedly, pushing a hand through his oily black hair.

For a brief moment, Aeryn had no idea what he was saying. Then, as the meaning of his words hit her, her eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling a sickening ache spread through her stomach.

Snape's cheeks flushed. "I'm only human, Miss Blake!" He looked defiantly into her face. "And even though I'm nearly twice your age, I'm not blind!" He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his gaze sliding to the Oriental carpet. "You're just...you..." His voice trailed away.

Somewhere, in the very back of Aeryn's mind, a crazy little voice was warbling...hey, wait, I got a new complaint...No, of course, he couldn't mean it, he couldn't. "You mean you were..." She almost choked on the words "...attracted to me?"

"It was nothing quite as poetic as that," the Potions master snapped immediately, his voice regaining a fraction of its normal iciness. "It's merely one of those millennia-old instincts that we, as civilized folk, would prefer to believe we've bred from us." His shoulders straightened, and he drew a deep breath. "But that's what it boils down to--breeding." He lifted his hands and outlined a rough hourglass figure in the air. "With your--for lack of a better term--voluptuous figure, you're a textbook Mother Earth incarnate, the ageless icon that symbolizes fertility and reproduction."

He shrugged, his words becoming smoother and more detached, as if he was merely delivering a lecture to his class. "Before I took the Mead, it was never more than a passing, barely conscious thought--the same thought, I'm certain, that passes through every man's subconscious when he looks at you, though he is unaware of it."

Aeryn sat up on the couch, her back ramrod-straight and her eyes glittering at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Am I supposed to be flattered by this?" she whispered.

"Don't be daft," Snape retorted harshly. "It's that ancient survival-of-the-species instinct." He rolled his eyes in frustration and turned his back on her. "It was your pheromones. Or something." He waved a hand absently in the air.

Aeryn opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She felt as if she had just swallowed a cannonball. Her throat was tight, and the only breath that came from her lungs was short and strained. A stinging, burning sensation ran up and down her skin, as if a thousand fire ants had suddenly attacked her. Snape had clasped his hands behind his back and was standing as still as a sentinel. His bare legs emerging from the bottom of his nightshirt, juxtaposed with his sober, solemn mien, were so incongruous that a bubble of hysterical laughter caught in the base of Aeryn's throat.

"Pheromones?" she gasped finally. It was hard to breathe past the lump in her throat. "You explain...your actions...because of pheromones?" And then she began to laugh, a strained laugh that filled the silent room like the sound of a heart breaking.

"I was right," she whispered.

"About what?" He did not turn to look at her.

She shook her head, trying to toss away the welling pain gathering behind her eyes. "You have no heart."

His shoulders jerked as if he had just been smacked. His head turned slightly, his profile illuminated by the half-light. "You can't expect me to--"

"It was my pheromones." She spat the word out as if it had been a rotten piece of meat. "My voluptuous figure." Her fists knotted in the torn fabric of her skirt. "The survival-of-the-species instinct," she gasped, the words splintering in her throat.

"That's not what I meant," he said quickly.

Aeryn giggled and put a trembling hand to her mouth. "So," she said in a high-pitched voice, "when I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I can feel the memory of your hands burning into my skin, I can console myself because, after all, it was my pheromones that made you act that way."

He whirled around on his heel. "I--"

"No, don't bother!" Aeryn cried, flinging her hands up in front of her. "I understand perfectly." She drew a quivering breath. "It was all my fault, me and my fertility-icon figure."

Snape took a step forward. "No, you--"

"Honestly, Professor, you've explained it so clearly that I can hardly believe I ever blamed you for your actions," Aeryn said. The shudders wracking her body were so violent that she was swaying against the couch, but she forced herself to remain in control, to keep glaring at him. "Small matter that I can't even accept the smallest of compliments on my appearance without shuddering in disgust."

"Miss Blake--"

"That even the most innocent of glances makes me want to vomit." She wanted to go on, to singe him with her wit, to hurt him so deeply that he could never look at her again without flinching--but the muscles of her jaw bunched, and a sob caught in her throat, and Aeryn had to stop and grab hold of the control that was slipping from her with each passing second.

The Potions master walked towards her. His face was unreadable, and his coal-black eyes were expressionless. But Aeryn could no longer look at him. She fixed her eyes on the Oriental carpet, not even glancing towards him when he lowered his body onto the arm of the couch.

"Had I known this would upset you so," he said finally, in a dead voice, "I wouldn't have spoken of it."

Aeryn sniffed. "Did you imagine I would react in any other way?" she asked softly.

The semblance of a laugh emerged from Snape's mouth. "I thought perhaps that you would be a little more understanding."

Aeryn recoiled as if a bullet had hit her. Her head jerked up and she stared balefully at the Potions master. "Understanding?" she hissed.

"I--"

Fury boiled within her. "How dare you preach to me about being understanding!" she shrieked, leaping to her feet. Fire lit her slate-blue eyes as she drew herself to her full height. "Do you understand, Professor, what you've done to me?"

Snape held up a hand. "Miss Blake, listen--"

With a shriek, Aeryn slapped his hand away. "No! You listen!" she cried, pointing a finger under his hooked nose. His words had opened a conduit in her soul, and now everything, every horrible event of the past six months came surging back to her.

"Do you know," she snarled, "that whenever anyone looks at me with even a hint of admiration in their eyes, all I want to do is run to my room and hide? Or you probably haven't noticed, since you've been dealing with your own personal pain--which, may I remind you, is hardly personal anymore, since I've been the one taking care of you as if you were a helpless child!"

Her breathing became ragged as it hooked in her throat. Snape made a movement as if to rise from the couch.

"I bet you don't even care that I was a virgin that first night, did you?"

The Potions master froze as if Petrified.

Aeryn flung out her arms mockingly. "Yes, Professor! Congratulations! You are the first man to have known the pleasures of my voluptuous figure!" Her voice was trembling. "Does that make you proud to know that your instincts successfully plundered me of that one smidgeon of innocence that remained in me?"

Snape's lips moved without sound.

Her vision blurred, but she continued on doggedly. "You have--the audacity--to tell me that it was your subconscious desire that caused you to treat me as you did, and that you can't be blamed, because it's your instincts!

"Reasoning everything away with your instincts can't take back why all I want to do is tear my hair out and smear mud on my face, so no one will ever look at me again, so I can be ugly, so maybe I can spare myself ever having to face someone like you again!"

She drew a shuddering breath, and was horrified as a sob escaped her lips. "And I shouldn't have to," she whispered, feeling a hot tear escape from the corner of her eye. "I shouldn't."

The Potions master's expressionless façade had crumbled, revealing a pity and horror so raw that it nearly took Aeryn's breath away. Snape rose to his feet, and, as Aeryn paused, her fists curled and her teeth clenched, he slowly spread his arms in a helpless gesture.

"I didn't mean it," he whispered.

The words were like kerosene on a fire.

"How could you?"

Aeryn screamed, and she launched herself at him, striking his body with her fists, pummeling him as hard as she could, trying to beat him to the ground until no more than a bloody splotch remained, not caring if he retaliated, let him try, she would destroy him...but the Potions master stood still, his body rocking slightly as the hysterical girl pounded him, calling him every foul thing imaginable. And then suddenly Aeryn's gaze glazed over and her sure fists buckled under the impact of her punches, and with a heartwrenching sob she crumpled against Snape's chest, her fists knotting in his nightshirt, and she began to weep uncontrollably, her small body quaking with the force of her sobs.

Then, gently, the Potions master's arms slipped around her, and Aeryn's legs buckled beneath her. Snape sat down on the couch and Aeryn collapsed in his embrace as he held her close, his long fingers stroking her hair as she buried her face in his shoulder, letting the tiring waves of emotion sweep over her.

And there, in the arms of the Potions master, Aeryn cried herself to sleep.