The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 35: See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me

The thunderstorm had lightened considerably by the time Aeryn and Harry emerged from the entrance to the underground harbor. As they squished across the soggy lawn, there was a sudden whirring sound and three figures on broomsticks zipped through the rain overhead. But neither Harry nor Aeryn paid them more than a disinterested glance as they made their way up the steps and pushed open the heavy oaken entrance doors.

"You!"

Peeves the Poltergeist's angry shriek echoed in the empty hallway as Aeryn and Harry stumbled through the door, their wet robes slapping about their feet. The ghost floated menacingly towards them, blocking their path. "You--Blake--how dare--you're a--"

With an emotionless face, Aeryn grabbed Harry by the arm and walked forward through the poltergeist, shuddering only slightly as his shadow-cold essence washed over her.

"Leave us alone, Peeves," she muttered.

"HEY, WAIT, YOU!" howled the poltergeist furiously. He drifted along after them, his confusion and anger apparent in his voice. "COME BACK HERE!" But Aeryn pointedly ignored his cries, and did not turn back as she and Harry started up the marble staircase.

"Um--" Harry mumbled suddenly. "Aeryn--"

Aeryn stepped onto the landing of the first floor and looked over her shoulder at Harry. The boy's face was unusually pinched, and his bottle-green eyes were startlingly bright in his thin face. His black hair clung in wet straggles to his forehead, masking his lightning scar. He hesitantly motioned towards the arm she was grasping. "Can you--kinda let go a bit--"

Aeryn's eyes followed his finger and noticed, to her complete surprise, that her knuckles had turned white and the muscles from her wrist to her elbow were aching from holding Harry so tightly. She quickly peeled her fingers from his wrist, a slight pang of guilt wracking her as Harry's face immediately relaxed.

"Thanks," he murmured, chafing his fingers across his reddened skin.

--Too bad it wasn't your throat, you rotten little bastard--

The thought slashed through her brain out of nowhere, laced with such poisonous hate that Aeryn choked, turning her face away from her friend and rushing forward blindly along the hallway.

She had touched the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for only a few seconds--mere instants--but that touch had absorbed not only his magic and his memories, but also part of his being, as if he and she were now one in the same skin, watching the events through the same eyes, but with two very different viewpoints, as if he was sort of a warped spiritual double--

"No," Aeryn hissed furiously. She forced her mind away from the stolen memories, from the lingering presence of Lockhart. "I already killed you."

She felt more than saw Harry's barely concealed flinch. "Aeryn? What's wrong?" the boy asked after a wary moment. But Aeryn blindly shook her head and pulled away from her friend, unable to look at him.

Her eyes wandered to the torches lining the smooth stone walls. The flickering shadows were frighteningly deep, and she shuddered, remembering the intoxicating rush as his being flowed into her, darkly repulsive and yet so desirable at the same time. She clenched her hands into fists as she hurried down the winding twists of the passageways.

"I won't let you best me this second time," she vowed in a whisper.

She and Harry turned the corner to the infirmary wing. Far down the hall, a clump of small figures was huddled outside the door, milling nervously about and talking to each other in hushed voices. Aeryn's pulse thudded suddenly in the base of her throat, and she gathered her wet skirt in her hand and started to jog forward, fear rising like a flood within her.

"HARRY! AERYN!"

Ron detached himself from the clump and sprinted towards the hallway towards them, his face pale beneath his freckles. Aeryn skidded to a halt as the red-haired boy stopped in front of her, his brown eyes darting between her and Harry. "Harry--you're okay--" He looked as if he was about to say more, but was silenced as another figure, brown-haired and clad in a dressing gown, pushed forcibly past him and threw herself onto Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around him and babbling with relief.

"Harry--I just woke up--Ron told me everything--I was so worried--"

"Hermione," Aeryn murmured through frozen lips. Her eyes wandered back down the hallway at the knot of people hovering outside the infirmary door. Colin, Penelope, Justin, Nearly Headless Nick--all looking none the worse for their Petrifaction, save for the intense worry twisting their features. She watched disinterestedly as Colin saw her, started slightly, and then began whispering furiously to Justin.

"Aeryn--"

Aeryn turned her gaze back to Ron. He put a hand on her arm, his eyes studying her face intently. "Are you okay?" he asked in a low, anxious voice. "What happened to you? Where's Lockhart?"

Aeryn regarded her young friend for a long moment before shaking her head slightly. "He's dead," she said quietly.

Hermione gave a strangled gasp and pulled away from Harry, her eyes wide as she regarded Aeryn. There was a muffled clatter of feet against stone as the four other un-Petrified people hesitantly began to make their way down the hallway towards them. Ron's gaze traveled across Aeryn's face, and an odd flicker crossed his features.

"Lockhart's dead?" Hermione choked.

Ron slowly reached up to touch Aeryn's cheek. The flicker crossed his face again, and as he brought his fingers away from her skin, Aeryn saw they were stained crimson.

"What's happening with Professor Snape?" she asked, and was surprised to hear her voice trembling.

The boy tore his gaze away from his bloodstained fingers. "I don't know--" He looked from Aeryn to Harry, and then back to Aeryn again and gulped. "I did what you told me to do, and I called Professor McGonagall--they got him up here, but we weren't allowed in there--" He gestured towards the door, desperation settling across his freckled face. "I told them what had happened to him, you know, what Lockhart did to him--"

Aeryn silently walked past her friend towards the closed infirmary doors, barely noticing how the clump of un-Petrified students shrank suddenly away from her as she passed. She grasped the doorknob and gave it a firm push, but it was tightly shut. Her brow furrowed as she shouldered her full weight against the door, to no avail. Ron was fast on her heels, continuing his tale: "The Ministry of Magic got here about fifteen minutes ago--they went out to see if they could find Lockhart to try and stop him--"

Aeryn rattled the door fiercely in its frame.

"Aeryn--" Ron's voice dropped and he stepped close to her. "I didn't tell them anything about your--powers--or anything about--you know--you and Snape--I didn't think I needed to--"

"Okay, Ron," she said, more sharply than she had intended. The boy's words cut off as if she had slapped him. Aeryn clenched her jaw and put a hand to her forehead. She must stay in control. She must not....

After a second, she trusted her composure enough to turn and look at the boy. He regarded her warily, as if he expected her to spring upon him at any second, and a sad smile twitched the edges of her lips. She quickly reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and looked back down the hallway towards Harry and Hermione.

"You guys stay out here," she said firmly.

They nodded wordlessly, an apprehensive fear tightening their features. With a deep breath, Aeryn turned back to the door and put her hand on the doorknob. She quested quickly into the door--the lock tripped with a sharp click--and she turned the knob and flung the door open.

Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall looked up sharply from the medicines table as Aeryn burst into the room. Madam Pomfrey halted in mid-bustle, staring wildly at the girl. And in the corner of the room, at the head of the bed, she noticed with a slight shock Headmaster Dumbledore, his normally twinkling eyes somber. But Aeryn passed only a cursory glance over the professors as her gaze latched, horrified, onto the figure lying in the bed.

Snape was barely recognizable. His black hair was plastered to his head with sweat and straggled limply on the pillows. From his forehead to his cheekbones, his skin was the pale, dead color of a fish's underbelly, but below that his face was covered in congealing blackish blood. The bed sheets on which he lay were stained more red than white and as she stared at him, paralyzed with shock, she noticed a wet, oozing driblet escaping from his open mouth.

--That's what you get for messing with Magical Me, old chap--

The gleeful whisper surfaced in her mind for an instant and evaporated just as quickly, leaving an overwhelming sickness echoing through her veins.

An anguished groan rasped suddenly from the Potions master's throat, and the teachers sprung from their petrification.

"No students!" cried Madam Pomfrey frantically, grabbing a small bottle from the medicine table and uncorking it with a sharp yank. "Get her out of here!"

Aeryn took a step towards the bed, but Professor McGonagall was immediately in her path, her eyes wild behind their square-rimmed glasses. "You can't be in here," she said severely, seizing Aeryn's arm. "We'll--"

"How is he?" Aeryn interrupted, trying unsuccessfully to pull away from McGonagall's grasp.

"You have to leave now, Miss Blake," the deputy headmistress exclaimed, tightening her grip. She glanced down at the girl's face and her brow furrowed slightly. "Are you all right?" she asked in a lower voice, beginning to pull Aeryn towards the door. "Is Mr. Potter all right?"

Aeryn braced her feet against the infirmary floor. "We're okay," she said sharply, pulling against Professor McGonagall's hand. She glanced over her shoulder towards the bed, towards the clump of hovering professors. "Professor Snape--I know what's wrong with him--"

"He'll be fine--" The deputy headmistress's voice was brisk as she yanked Aeryn's arm and steered her towards the door. "We've got it under control--"

But as her fingers brushed the doorknob, the infirmary door was suddenly flung open. Both McGonagall and Aeryn halted in their tracks at the sight of three wet and bedraggled figures. Two tall men dressed all in black and clutching broomsticks stepped into the infirmary, but it was the gray-haired figure between them that caught Aeryn's eye. He, too, clutched a broomstick, and his odd mixture of clothes--a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots--served only to accentuate the anxious expression on his face.

He looked pointedly at McGonagall.

"Lockhart is dead," he said.

Another agony-riddled groan split the air behind Aeryn, and she twisted around in the deputy headmistress' grasp in time to see Madam Pomfrey hurry to the head of the bed, her wand writhing in her fingers. "He's hemorrhaging--"

"How?" Professor McGonagall asked weakly.

Over by Snape, Professor Flitwick leapt to his feet, clutching his wand tightly.

"Decapitated," one of the wizards said, and Aeryn looked back over at him to see him swallow, looking slightly ill. "We found him on the lake, along with this." Before the deputy headmistress' eyes he hefted a glittering sword, which Aeryn recognized belatedly as the one she had forgotten after her battle.

There was a rustle of cloth beside her, and Headmaster Dumbledore was suddenly at Aeryn's side. He somberly stretched out a hand to take the sword. His blue eyes flickered from the jeweled hilt, to the wizards, and then finally turned to rest on Aeryn.

"Mr. Potter?" he murmured, handing the sword back to the tall wizard.

"Harry's okay," she replied quickly. "Headmaster Dumbledore--"

"And you?"

"Yes, I'm fine--"

"Albus!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked suddenly behind them, and Dumbledore spun quickly on his heel, hurrying over to Snape's side.

"Minerva," he called over his shoulder. "Please see Miss Blake out."

A strangled, choking sound came from the Potions master.

"No!" Aeryn yelled desperately, trying to fling herself towards the bed. She pulled vainly at McGonagall's hand, her mind racing. "Listen to me, I can help, I know what's happened--"

"You're Aeryn Blake?" The gray-haired wizard grabbed her other arm, and Aeryn suddenly found herself being pulled forcefully from the room. "Thank goodness you're all right--we were looking for you out there--I'm Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic--come with us, we need to ask you some questions about Gilderoy Lockhart--"

"Let me go," she cried, throwing her weight backwards.

"I can stop the hemorrhaging after it's started," she heard Madam Pomfrey mutter. "But I don't know what's causing it--I can't--"

Aeryn latched her hand around the doorframe as both Fudge and McGonagall bodily tried to heave her from the room. "Please--Professor McGonagall--"

"Move over, Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly. "What are his symptoms?"

Madam Pomfrey began nervously ticking off the symptoms, her voice shaking. "Internal hemorrhaging--bleeding from bodily orifices--loss of muscle control--"

--Swollen, purple tongue, inability to swallow, and swelling of throat to constrict breathing -- The knowledge flooded into her mind with amazing clarity, and Aeryn's eyes flew open in understanding.

"It's a variation of the Seventh Seal Curse!" she screamed, cutting off Madam Pomfrey in mid-word.

The hands reining her in froze, and for half an instant, there was a shocked silence.

"What?" the school nurse choked finally.

"Eblaris charbonia instead of eblaris anthraxa." The answer fell from her lips instantly, and she saw clearly in her mind's eye the words...as they spilled across the blank page of the diary, gleaming wetly...You realize that a slight change of words in the Seventh Seal Curse would drastically change the makeup of the spell and greatly prolong the misery of the receiver--but, of course, a great wizard such as yourself would already realize that--

Her eyes flew to the broken Snape, and a frisson of sympathetic pain shivered down her spine in response.

"She could be right," Madam Pomfrey muttered, understanding beginning to creep into her eyes. "I think she's right--yes--"

"How do you know that--" began Cornelius Fudge, but the Potions master spasmed in the bed and gave a loud gurgle, and the room again erupted into chaos.

Professor McGonagall let go of Aeryn's arm and hurriedly drew her wand. "Get her out of here!" she snapped over her shoulder to Fudge as she dashed to the bedside. "Albus--is the Seventh Seal Curse even curable--"

Dumbledore placed his fingers against Snape's forehead, his eyes crinkling in concentration. "Since it's a variant and not the real curse--in theory, yes--but only if we catch it in time--"

Two pairs of strong hands latched again around Aeryn's arms. A snarl flew from her throat and Aeryn fought against them, struggling like a wild animal as they attempted to pull her from the room. Her flailing hands grabbed hold of a bed frame and she clung to it like a life preserver.

"Have you tried using Reconstruction Potion?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out his wand.

"Yes!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed tearfully. "But it's not working--it's like something is blocking me--"

There was a piercing screech as the bed frame scooted across the floor towards the door. "Come on, Miss Blake!" snarled one of the Ministry wizards, and as Aeryn's grip did not slacken, they instead wrapped their arms around her waist and lifted her from the ground, tearing her away forcefully.

Professor Sprout looked up wildly from a beaker full of green, burbling liquid. "But that should work--"

Aeryn shrieked and spread her arms wide, latching onto the doorframe as the wizards unsuccessfully tried to pull her through.

"Something must be counteracting it--" muttered Professor Flitwick.

--Of course there is, you idiots, but there's no way I'd tell you--

"He's been taking a combination of powdered asphodel and nightshade!" Aeryn screamed immediately before she had a chance to stop herself.

Professor Sprout whipped her head around and stared at her. "What?"

"With toad's blood and henbane," Aeryn continued. Her muscles quivered as she clung to the doorframe. "That might be what's counteracting the Reconstruction Potion."

"Put her down," Dumbledore said sharply to the Ministry wizards, and Aeryn was immediately released.

Madam Pomfrey straightened. "How long has he been taking it?" she demanded.

Aeryn swallowed and stepped back into the room, her heart thudding at the knowing glint that had crept into the headmaster's eyes. "He stopped taking it in March, but the effects might still be lingering in his bloodstream."

Professor Sprout's brow furrowed, and she got to her feet, hurrying over to the medicine table. "That could be it," she muttered half to herself as she uncorked several bottles and began to pour the contents into an empty beaker. "But--why--"

A wary look had crept over McGonagall's face. "How do you know all this?" she asked, her eyes piercing as she studied Aeryn.

Aeryn hesitated for only a second.

"From the beginning of school until Christmas, Snape has been under the influence of a poison called the Berserker's Mead," she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm.

Fudge's face twisted in puzzlement. "The what?"

"Oh, dear God..." Professor Sprout whispered.

It was amazing, Aeryn thought detachedly, how easily the words fell from her lips. "Since Christmas, he has been taking the antidote. Which I have been preparing for him."

Professor McGonagall sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "How--"

"The Berserker's Mead was being prepared and administered by Gilderoy Lockhart." A hysterical, humorless giggle escaped her lips, and Aeryn pressed her palms flat to her sides to hide their trembling. She kept her eyes trained on the body in the blood-soaked bed, not trusting herself to look anyone in the face. "Who was behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, whom Snape and I were preparing to expose." The words caught in her throat, and she had to pause slightly before continuing. "Who cast the Seventh Spell Curse on Snape, who tried to kidnap one of my best friends, and whom I just killed."

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, as her words sunk in, the room exploded in chaos.

"He what?" exclaimed Fudge.

"Lockhart?" gasped Professor Flitwick.

Professor Sprout's face was white. "But the Berserker's Mead is--"

McGonagall's eyes flashed as a horrified, suspicious look darkened her features. "Why were you--"

Aeryn looked pleadingly towards Dumbledore. The headmaster's bearded face was impassive as he regarded her through his half-moon glasses. Aeryn swallowed and gathered her courage about her. "Headmaster, please--let me help." She stretched a hand towards him, the desperation in her voice almost tangible. "I will explain everything later, I promise, but let me help."

Dumbledore did not move.

"Please," Aeryn whispered, unable to keep the quaver from her voice. "Had it not been for Professor Snape, I would be the one lying on that bed right now." She drew a deep, struggling breath. "Please. I owe him that much."

The headmaster still did not move, and a paralyzing hopelessness lanced through Aeryn's body. But then, his blue eyes flickered with a fraction of their usual warmth, and he inclined his head with the slightest movement.

"Wait a second!" Fudge sputtered as Aeryn gave Dumbledore a grateful look and hurried over to Madam Pomfrey's side. "How--how does she know what--"

"Later, Cornelius," Dumbledore murmured, but an underlying iron edged his words, and the Minister of Magic fell silent.

Aeryn bent over the medicine table, her fingers hovering over the half-filled beaker and the unstoppered ingredients. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and she bent her nose to the beaker, giving a cautious sniff. After a second, she straightened. "Madam," she said, picking up the beaker and holding it out to the school nurse. "If we add some wormwood to the Restoration Potion, it might help stop the hemorrhaging."

Madam Pomfrey took the beaker from Aeryn, a skeptical look on her face. "But that would cancel out the effects of the phoenix tears in the potion."

She hadn't thought of that. Aeryn bit her lip, racking her collective memories for an answer. "True," she said slowly. "But even if it does, it should neutralize the effects of the asphodel and nightshade in his system, which would allow the phoenix feathers to work."

"You may be right," Madam Pomfrey said after a moment. Without another word, she whisked into the back room, carrying the beaker in one hand.

A pained hiss erupted from Snape, and Aeryn quickly pushed past Professors Sprout and Flitwick to his side. The Potions master's face was twisted in agony, and for the first time Aeryn was able to see clearly what the spell had done. The hot smell of iron was redolent about him, and the sheets were so soaked with blood that Aeryn could see clots forming on the fabric. She saw with horror that a fresh gout of blood was oozing slowly from his mouth, nose, and ears. He gurgled and moved his head slightly, cracking open his eyes, and it took all of Aeryn's willpower not to recoil as she watched trickles of red trace down his cheeks like tears. With suddenly clumsy hands, she pulled her wand from her sleeve and waved it above him. "Placare," she whispered, and Snape slumped back against the crimson-stained sheets.

"Here." Madam Pomfrey reappeared next to Aeryn, holding the bubbling beaker beneath her nose. "See if this works."

Aeryn carefully took the beaker and leaned over the Potions master. He was barely breathing, but the sound rasped from his throat as if being dragged across meat hooks. She reached jerkily for his face, but her fingers stopped short from his blood-slicked chin. There was blood everywhere--he was only just breathing, how was she supposed to get him to drink this--he made a gurgling noise, and she pulled back her hand with a small squeak.

"Madam--" she said weakly. "Help--"

"Let me," Madam Pomfrey said briskly at her shoulder. Aeryn stepped back and handed the beaker to the school nurse, who quickly grasped Snape's jaw and began pouring the mixture down his throat. The Potions master writhed beneath her touch, the movement nearly making Madam Pomfrey drop the beaker.

"Hold his arms!" the school nurse barked. Aeryn quickly scooted around her and pinned Snape's arms to the bed. Her pulse was thudding in the base of her throat as Madam Pomfrey doggedly forced open his mouth again and poured in the rest of the potion.

As the last drop disappeared down his throat, Aeryn stepped back, regarding him warily. The trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth slowed until Aeryn was certain that it had stopped. A relieved smile lit her face, and she turned to beam at the school nurse. "There. At least now, that's--"

A high-pitched, agonized cry split through her words, and Aeryn whirled around to see Snape writhing against the bed sheets, blood streaming from his nose twice as quickly.

"No!" she shrieked, grabbing for her wand, but Madam Pomfrey was quicker. The school nurse muttered a spell, and the Potions master relaxed against the bed with a groan.

Professor Sprout got to her feet. She tapped her wand against her open palm, and two small brown bottles appeared. "Aeryn, are there powdered dragon scales in either the Berserker's Mead or the antidote?"

Aeryn quickly racked her brain, spinning her mind through Lockhart's tangled memories. But there were so many--and so muddled, all running together, like the different colored dyes of a new shirt bleeding into one another--

"I don't know--" she murmured, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "I'm not--I can't remember what's in the Berserker's Mead--"

"Yes, Daisy, there are," Dumbledore interrupted gently.

Sprout dumped one of the bottles into a beaker filled with clear liquid, which began to bubble and steam. "And that--no, that counteracts--" she muttered beneath her breath.

"Albus," exclaimed Professor Flitwick, "since the Seventh Seal Curse itself is a variation of the Four Horsemen Plague--would apocolypsa retourna work?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No--by using charbonia--"

Aeryn stared helplessly at the bloodied bed. Snape's fingers were clenching and unclenching spasmodically against the sheets.

"Move over, Miss Blake," Madam Pomfrey said, not unkindly, and Aeryn wordlessly moved back a step, watching helplessly as the other professors huddled around the bed, talking to each other in low voices and every so often casting a spell over the Potions master.

She turned blindly away and put her hands to her face. Her cheeks were cold, and the faintest sheen of rain still clung to her skin. Aeryn exhaled and closed her eyes, turning her mind inward and concentrating. Lockhart's stolen memories were knotted like string in the recesses of her brain, and it was only by sheer willpower that she could even begin to untangle them. She bit her lip, skittering among the submerged visions as if she was playing mental hopscotch, shuddering only slightly as a foreign emotion would zip across her consciousness or a particularly brutal memory--

"This might work," came Professor Flitwick's voice suddenly, jerking Aeryn from her mental study. She turned around as the little professor tossed a heavy book to the floor and raised his wand. "Detachus," he murmured, slicing the wand in a diagonal above Snape's face, and a shower of lime-green sparks shot from the tip of his wand. The sparks hovered for a second over the Potions master's face, then sunk into his skin with tiny bursts of light. The Charms professor dropped his arms and motioned to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout.

"Now, quickly!" he cried.

Confusion and puzzlement were written plainly across the women's faces, but Madam Pomfrey rushed forward, her wand ready, and as she murmured a cure, Professor Sprout cracked open Snape's mouth and dribbled a few drops from a beaker into his mouth.

Aeryn took a hesitant step back towards the bed as everyone leaned forward, watching Snape intently. Several tense heartbeats passed.

"I think it worked," Professor McGonagall whispered. "Look--the blood flow is stopping--I think it worked--"

The breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding exploded painfully from Aeryn's lungs. She wearily sunk into a chair. As her heartbeat returned to a normal rate, she realized how horribly her body was aching. Lockhart had been able to land a few solid punches back on the lake. She put a hand to her side, wincing as pain shot through her abdomen in response.

"Well, if you're certain the excitement's over, perhaps I can get some answers," Cornelius Fudge said in a loud voice. He stood up, brushed a hand down his drying pinstriped suit, and walked over to where Aeryn was sitting. "Miss Blake, if you'll follow me, I have a few questions that I'd like to ask--"

An inhuman sound erupted in the room, and Aeryn was instantly back on her feet, her gaze hurtling back towards the bed. No--it couldn't be--

"Hemorrhaging--" Madam Pomfrey gasped, leaping forward with her wand.

"Inconceivable--" Flitwick mumbled.

"Even worse--" McGonagall hissed, drawing back as Sprout pushed past her with the beaker in hand.

"No," Aeryn whispered in horror. She watched as the professors bustled around the bed, their faces pinched, and she suddenly felt very, very cold. There was a faint buzzing in her ears, on the very edge of her vision, and somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, she heard the barely audible echoes of--laughter--

Professor Sprout cursed loudly and leaped back as Snape's wracking cough sprayed blood across her robe. "What did you cast on him?" she snapped to Flitwick, running a hand down her cheek.

The little Charms professor's jaw was clenched as he spun his wand forcefully between his fingers. "The curse works like a tumor, Daisy--it attaches itself to the afflicted and feeds off him," he said curtly. "I thought--if we used an Unbinding Spell to loosen it, that maybe I could cure it, but it just--reattached itself to him--"

He fixed his eyes on Snape, and Aeryn saw his shoulders sag wearily. "It's a part of him now," he murmured, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

Aeryn could not move--could not even feel. She watched dumbly as Madam Pomfrey straightened slowly from the bedside, running a hand through her hair as her patient hissed and slumped back, once again, against the bed sheets. The school nurse closed her eyes and sighed, a drained sound that seemed as if it came from the very soles of her shoes.

"It isn't working, Albus." Madam Pomfrey's voice was flat and dull. "Is there nothing else we can do?"

All sparkle had fled from Dumbledore's blue eyes. His lips tightened into a small line, and he shook his head, very slowly. "No." The word was filled with so much hopelessness that Aeryn felt as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. The headmaster stretched out a hand and laid it carefully against the Potions master's paper-white forehead. Dumbledore's fingers slowly twined in the wet strands of Snape's black hair, the gesture heartbreakingly gentle. "We were too late. Within minutes, the hemorrhaging will reach his heart and...."

His voice trailed away before he could complete the thought, but it was unnecessary. Professor Sprout sank into a chair, her face ashen as she stared at Snape, her lips moving soundlessly. Professor McGonagall made an indistinct noise in the back of her throat and turned away, putting a hand to her mouth. Professor Flitwick stumbled back a step, his eyes brimming, and Madam Pomfrey hid her face in her hands, not quite able to hide the sob that escaped from her lips.

Slowly, with leaden feet, Aeryn made her way back to the bedside. Snape's chest barely moved as he struggled to draw breath, and through the mask of congealing blood on his face, his features were unrecognizable. A queer pain lanced through Aeryn's heart and she gently placed a hand on Snape's cheek. The blood was sticky and cool beneath her fingertips.

"No," she whispered, but it was a no of broken submission. She screwed her eyes shut. They had been too late...if she hadn't stopped to speak to Ron...if only she had killed Lockhart sooner...if she hadn't been so weak, if she had come straight back afterwards...if only Aeryn had never prepared the antidote...if Snape had never taken the Mead...

--if he hadn't taken the Mead--

--"The curse works like a tumor--it attaches itself to the afflicted--it's a part of him now"--

Her eyes flew open as a wild--inconceivable--idea flew suddenly into her brain. For a moment she did not move, but as the idea grew, she looked down at Snape's twitching form and a sudden surge of warmth flooded through her. It could work--perhaps--this variation, like a tumor, growing swiftly within him--if she could detach it from him and remove it--

--remove it--

"Headmaster Dumbledore." Her voice was choked and echoed hollowly in the still air of the infirmary. She cast her gaze frantically towards him. The headmaster was seated at the head of the bed, his hands folded as if in prayer, and he looked up slowly at the sound of his name. Aeryn swallowed, the words darting about in her head like bees in a glass jar. "If I had this curse--" careful, careful, don't be too hasty, speak clearly "--could I be cured?"

Dumbledore tilted his head quizzically.

"Could you cure me?" Aeryn repeated, her voice a bit stronger. "Because I haven't taken the Mead or the antidote?"

Headmaster Dumbledore gave a half-hearted shrug. "Perhaps," he murmured after a moment.

That mixture of hopelessness and frustration on his worn face, usually so sure and strong, rattled Aeryn more than she could have expected. She roughly cleared her throat and gazed levelly at him. "How certain are you?"

"What difference does it make?" Professor McGonagall asked, her voice thick. Aeryn turned her head and saw the deputy headmistress pluck a handkerchief from the air and blow her nose loudly.

Aeryn's jaw clenched. "Please," she asked quietly, turning back to Dumbledore. "Just answer my question."

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heaved a long, tired sigh. "Sixty--seventy-five percent certain." He spread his hands out before him in a bleak gesture. "But it could as well be one hundred percent for all it matters, Miss Blake...you don't have it..."

Aeryn looked swiftly back down at Snape's face. A spasm of pain tightened his features, and all of a sudden Aeryn felt the memory of his hands clamping onto her shoulders, spinning her around--the look on his face as the spell had smacked into him--the gurgle as he slid to her feet, his body wracked with shudders--

--Sev, you bastard--that curse was intended for Aeryn--

Her lips tightened decisively.

"It's worth a shot," she muttered.

She reached down, gathered her wet skirts in her fists, and determinedly crawled up onto the bed, the blood-sodden mattress squishing beneath her weight as she straddled the Potions master's chest. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, but she did not allow herself to muse on it as she hooked her fingers in the collar of his robe. "Madam, I'm going to need your help." She cast her mind towards the medicines table, and the beaker half-filled with Restoration Potion rose in response and floated over to the school nurse. "When I start, I need you to pour this down his throat."

Aeryn tore the gore-soaked fabric open with a savage yank, exposing Snape's blood-smeared chest.

Madam Pomfrey gazed in confusion at the floating beaker. "Miss Blake, what--"

"Look," Aeryn snapped, pinning the school nurse with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "If he dies, it won't be because we didn't try everything." She swiftly began rolling up her sleeves to her elbows. "He's gonna die otherwise, so you might as well help me out."

The school nurse looked as if she wanted to protest, but instead, she grabbed the bobbing potion and took a hesitant step towards the bed.

Aeryn positioned her hands over Snape's chest and turned to the Charms professor. "Professor Flitwick, will you cast the Unbinding Spell again?"

Professor Flitwick stared disbelievingly at her. "What good--"

"JUST DO IT!" Aeryn screamed.

For an instant, the little professor lapsed into a stunned silence, but he lifted his wand and pointed it towards Snape. "Well, it can't harm anything," he said finally, stepping to the head of the bed. "Detachus," he murmured, and lime-green sparks showered across the Potions master's face.

Aeryn's hands hovered above Snape's bare skin as she intently watched the sparks begin to settle upon his face. "Make sure that no one touches me," she muttered.

As the sparks sunk into the Potions master's skin with tiny bursts of light, Aeryn leaned forward and clamped her hands onto his slick chest.

It was as if she had shoved her hands into a vat of acid. Searing--blistering--blinding agony lightninged up through her arms, into her body--her mouth opened, but she couldn't even scream, could not even move--beneath her fingers, she felt the Potions master spasm, and it took all her energy to keep her hands pinned to him, to continue to draw--the spell, she felt it within him, black and parasitic and pulsating, and Aeryn tore at it, tears running down her cheeks as it rose within her like a flood of boiling water--

--but even as she clung to it, it writhed against her--within her--away from her--and as Aeryn gritted her teeth, questing towards it, she felt its dark tentacles stretch back towards the moribund Snape, the thin arms questing back into the recesses of his body--

"Again!" Aeryn screamed in an inhuman voice. The pain--a burning, twisting agony spread through her stomach, and she choked--pulling together her draining energy, she cried, "Cast the spell again!"

She barely heard the frantic rustle of the other professors, and even less the sudden, frantic cry of "Detachus!" from Professor Flitwick, but she felt automatically the jerk of the spell as it ripped away from Snape. She urgently pulled at it, and a high-pitched whimper erupted from her lips as the tendrils wrapped into her, eating into her system like blight upon leaves. It turned in her grip, and stretched back for the Potions master.

"Again!"

The spell was torn from him again, but as it writhed to escape from Aeryn's grasp, it seemed to grow sluggish, and the tentacles did not seem quite as long, or their grip quite as forceful. With halting movements, it reached back for Snape.

"Again!"

The spell shuddered suddenly and recoiled, as if yanked back by an invisible hand. Aeryn drew together all her remaining strength and pulled--agony like a thousand heated pokers buffeted her skin, and she wailed, her throat tearing with the cry--it felt as if her very cells themselves were being ripped apart, but still she clung to him, drawing the spell to her and forcing it into her--the tentacles shriveling like paper in a flame--curling away from Snape, grasping futilely back towards him--

With a small tremor, the spell slithered into her like water down a drain.

Aeryn jerked her hands away from the Potions master. Her throat constricted--she could barely draw breath into her lungs--a wet slick coated her face, and her muscles began to quiver uncontrollably, and pain--the pain--her brain was on fire--her blood filled with white-hot needles--

She somehow found the strength to wrench open her eyes and cast her gaze about her. Her vision was distorted--oddly reddish, and she blinked hard--the motion was so difficult--a wavering face floated into view before her--

"M...Madam," Aeryn croaked finally. Her voice sounded distant and strained ...she made a sluggish motion with her hand, or tried to, towards the bed. "Blood...hea...heal..."

The face disappeared from her vision, and Aeryn swayed, throbs of pain wracking her body. Something warm was running down her face--she coughed, and choked as a hot, sticky liquid filled her mouth--there was a dull, roaring noise like the ocean in her ears, and she dragged her eyes up, and saw four distorted figures, like creatures from a funhouse, or a warped fairytale, starting towards her--but their movements were slow, as if they were moving through water--

Aeryn tried to speak, to say something--but her voice twisted within her and she gurgled--her eyes rolled back in her head--and as she slipped off the bed, falling to the floor, a black, suffocating emptiness overtook her.

~*~*~*~*~*~