The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 36: Sound And Silence

A soft light flickered behind her closed eyelids.

Aeryn stirred slightly, feeling her muscles protest at the sudden movement, and she winced, giving a small grunt. After a moment, she cracked open her heavy eyelids. Her vision was blurred, as if looking through rain-smeared glass, and she blinked hard as a blotchy shape floated into her vision.

"Welcome back, dear," came a gentle voice.

Aeryn scrubbed a fist into her eye and looked back up at the shape. The light congealed slowly into sharp lines and colors, and she recognized the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey hovering over her. The school nurse's face was lined with fatigue, but a brilliant, reassuring smile creased her features as Aeryn looked bewilderedly around her. She was lying in a bed in the hospital wing and--she gazed at it in disbelief--the bedside table beside her was piled high with flowers, candy, and other assorted gifts.

And the bed beside her was empty.

Aeryn's eyes jumped back up to Madam Pomfrey's face. Her body felt as if it had been roughly torn apart at the joints and then stapled haphazardly back together. Aeryn cleared her throat, trying to form words.

"Did...it work?" she croaked finally.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes. He's all right."

The whisper of a thankful sigh slipped from between Aeryn's lips and she relaxed against the pillows.

Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and ran it briskly over Aeryn's body. "Within half an hour, he bounced right back to normal," she said, and a wry grin twitched the corner of her mouth. "That man has the resiliency of a rubber ball."

Aeryn gave a weak chuckle. "Tell me about it," she murmured. She closed her eyes thankfully. The gamble had worked, and he was alive--and so was she. A sweet relief warmed her body.

"You, on the other hand...." Aeryn opened her eyes to see Madam Pomfrey gazing intently at her, her face now a mixture of barely checked worry and lingering sadness. "We were afraid we had lost you for good. Fortunately, we were mistaken." She smiled, but the gesture did nothing to soften the seriousness in her eyes.

Aeryn shrugged slightly, unable to think of anything to say. The school nurse leaned forward, pulling the sheet up more securely around Aeryn's chin.

"I won't even pretend to know what you did," she murmured, giving Aeryn's pillow a brisk fluff. She paused and looked up, and her eyes met Aeryn's. "But whatever it was, it saved him."

Aeryn blinked hard, feeling all of a sudden a painful lump forming in the base of her throat. It was impossible to speak for a moment.

"I'm sorry...I yelled at you," she said finally, and was surprised to hear an unusual thickness in her words.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "No need to apologize," she said softly.

Aeryn turned her head and looked over at the bedside table, more to look away from the school nurse than because of any interest in the gifts she had received. However, she couldn't help but be astounded by the sheer number of items piled high next to her. There appeared to be about twenty bunches of flowers, of which the smallest was a half-dozen sunflowers and the largest nearly twelve dozen red roses. Among the petals and leaves were scattered a large assortment of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and other candies in such enormous quantities that Aeryn felt the beginnings of a stomachache just looking at them. She slowly brushed a finger against the velvety petal of a tiger lily, making the bright flower bob merrily.

"Are you feeling well enough to receive some visitors?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Aeryn glanced back over at the school nurse in shock. She must have heard wrong--Madam Pomfrey never asked a patient whether she wanted to receive visitors. She was usually too busy clucking at the visitors to leave so the patient could get some rest. But the school nurse motioned with her head towards the closed infirmary door. "You've got several very worried friends who've been waiting outside since eight o'clock this morning."

Feeling as if she had just landed in the Twilight Zone, Aeryn nodded her agreement. The school nurse bustled away in a swirl of white robes, and Aeryn turned her gaze back to the flowers. There were just so many of them....

Hesitant footfalls echoed on the stone floor of the infirmary, and Aeryn looked over to see Madam Pomfrey ushering in three very familiar figures. Suddenly, the pain and weariness lancing through her muscles were forgotten.

"Guys," she murmured, stretching out a hand towards them.

Her three friends stepped forward. She could see the signs of weariness etched beneath their eyes, but their faces were luminous with relief as they saw her. Aeryn shifted slightly on the bed as they sat down on the mattress next to her.

"Hey, Aeryn," Harry said softly.

Ron grinned at her wordlessly.

"Hermione." Aeryn glanced over at the brown-haired girl, still standing at the side of the bed and regarding Aeryn with wide eyes. "Where've you been? You've missed out on all the excitement."

Without a word, Hermione threw her arms around Aeryn and hugged her so tightly that her small body quivered with the effort. The lump in Aeryn's throat grew even more painful, and she wrapped her arms around Hermione, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered into her friend's hair.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked as the two girls finally pulled away.

Aeryn shrugged, relaxing back against the pillows. "I've been better." Her eyes latched on to each of her friends' faces in turn, regarding them almost hungrily. "But I'll live."

Ron looked over at the packed bedside table. "Whoa."

Aeryn flopped a hand in his direction. "Take some of it," she said. "Please. I'm getting sick just looking at it."

Very shortly, all four of them were sprawled across the covers of Aeryn's bed, gnawing on assorted candies. Ron, as per usual, had taken the liberty of opening almost all of the Chocolate Frogs to see the cards, and Aeryn sincerely hoped they would be able to clean up the mess before Madam Pomfrey walked back into the room and had a heart attack. She merely picked at a few licorice sticks, but the dark red color made her stomach queasy, and she hastily shoved them into the pile of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.

"So how'd you cure Snape?" Ron asked a little while later through a mouthful of chocolate.

Aeryn looked at him, startled. "How'd you know about that?"

Harry and Hermione fixed him with glares that could cut steel, and he guiltily ducked his head over his candy.

"It's all around the school," Hermione said apologetically. "I mean...you know how it is here at Hogwarts...once someone finds out about something, everyone else finds out too...." Her voice trailed off, but not before Aeryn caught the underlying tension lacing Hermione's words.

"Oh, really?" Aeryn asked matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow. "So is the fact that I'm a mutant and slept with Professor Snape also common knowledge now?"

Ron choked on his candy, Hermione's eyes widened, and Harry flinched, confirming Aeryn's suspicions. She heaved a tired sigh and closed her eyes momentarily.

A heavy silence fell.

"Aeryn--" began Ron hesitantly.

"I've never told you what my real mutation is, have I?" Aeryn interrupted in mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, she stretched out her hands before her friends' faces. "Sometimes, when I touch people, I can absorb parts of them--their thoughts, their talents..." She wiggled her fingers slightly. "With the help of the other professors, I was able to absorb the spell on Snape. And then--I guess--they cured me."

Hermione twisted a strand of bushy brown hair between her fingers. "How'd you know that...." Her voice faltered slightly, and she swallowed. "That you could be cured?" she finished finally.

Aeryn sighed. "I didn't," she confessed. "But...." She tried to continue, to find the words, but the words would just not come.

How could she explain to them what she had felt as she watched the Potions master collapse at her feet in a pool of blood, taking the spell that had been intended for her? How could she even begin to explain the guilt, or even the sonorous, lingering echoes of Lockhart's gleeful laugh resonating in her memory?

She could no more have left Snape in that bed to die then she could have sat back and watched Lockhart carry Harry away, not when she had known there was a chance--however slim--to save him. A smile warmed her lips, a sad, frustrated smile, and she sighed quietly, shaking her head. For, try as she might to explain it, all words dried in her throat and left her silent.

Then, suddenly, there was a warm touch on Aeryn's skin as Hermione reached forward and laid her hand atop hers. In the same breath, Ron stretched his hand out and laced his fingers through Aeryn's. Harry did not move, but understanding was clear in his bottle-green eyes.

Aeryn had to fight back the sudden surge of tears that threatened to choke her.

The rest of their visit passed quickly as they talked of simple matters: classes, end-of-the-year preparations--"Oh yeah, just so you know, McGonagall canceled exams," Ron told her, ignoring the sudden look of fury that crossed Hermione's face--and other assorted benign topics.

Inevitably, Madam Pomfrey finally bustled in, clucking about Aeryn needing to get some rest, and shooed the three Gryffindors from the room. Aeryn waved goodbye to her friends and settled back against the pillows, yawning. Recovery, she thought wearily as she closed her eyes, was almost more exhausting than everything she had done to land herself in the hospital wing.

There was a slight noise beside her, and Aeryn cracked open one eye to see Harry standing next to the bed, looking down at her with concern.

"Hey, Harry," she exclaimed softly. She glanced back towards the infirmary door, but Ron and Hermione had disappeared, as had Madam Pomfrey. "What is it?"

Harry sat down slowly beside her on the bed. Aeryn did not like the look in his eyes, but she wisely remained silent, waiting for him to speak first. She watched as the boy nervously flicked his fingertips together and looked down.

"You did that with Lockhart, too," Harry finally murmured. His voice was so low that Aeryn had to lean forward to hear him. "Absorbed his powers."

Aeryn sighed. "Yes." She wondered just how much of that exchange Harry had seen, locked unmoving in the stern of the boat. If she could only explain....

"His magic?" She could hear his anxiety tightening his words.

She put a hand to her forehead and felt a submerged presence within her twist in response. Ah yes, she had his magic, but....

"Among other things," she said after a careful moment of consideration.

At last Harry lifted his head, and his eyes were bright. A brilliant, warm smile lit his face. "So now you're really a witch," he said, a happy relief tingeing his words. "You can finally do magic."

Funny...she had always wanted magic, had always longed for it, but now that it was at her fingertips she almost wished it were gone...but Aeryn only smiled at her friend, not wishing to spoil the happiness she saw on his face by her gloomy musings.

"Guess so," she agreed. Then a wry expression twisted her lips, and she leaned towards him, dropping her voice confidingly. "Although I'm afraid if you asked me anything other than the odd variant curse or a Memory Charm, I might not be able to perform it."

Harry laughed. Then, before Aeryn could say anything further, the boy leaned across the bed and wrapped his arms around her in a huge bear hug.

Aeryn closed her eyes and held him to her. His body was light and warm against hers. She gently stroked his jet-black hair, resting her chin against the top of his head.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered to him. "You know that, right?"

His arms tightened further about her in response. "Love you too," he murmured into her shoulder.

They held each other until Madam Pomfrey swept back into the room. "Come now," she said firmly to Harry, taking his arm in a businesslike manner. "Miss Blake needs to get her rest. You can see her again tomorrow."

Aeryn waved at her friend as he disappeared from the infirmary wing, unable to trust her voice to say goodbye for fear of bursting into tears.

* * *

"Hello, Aeryn."

A gentle voice slowly pulled Aeryn from her cozy reverie. She stretched languidly and opened her eyes to see who had interrupted her slumber. A pair of golden half-moon glasses glinted softly in the light of the infirmary, behind which smiled a pair of warm blue eyes.

Instantly, Aeryn was wide awake.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she exclaimed, sitting up straight in the bed.

There was so much she had to say--so much she had to tell him--but as she opened her mouth to begin, nothing came out.

Dumbledore lowered himself into a chair next to the bed. "When you are feeling better," he said quietly, "Cornelius Fudge wishes to speak to you about Professor Lockhart's death. Just a few questions." He smiled at her, his white-bearded face gentle. "Mr. Potter's testimony earlier today clearly showed that your actions were in self-defense."

It took Aeryn a few seconds for her to realize what the headmaster had said. She merely stared at him without speaking, turning his words over in her mind.

This was what you wanted, a little corner of her mind whispered fiercely. Expose Lockhart, that was the first step, then you can finally begin to recover....

But even that knowledge did nothing to loosen the knot of silence in her throat. After a second, Aeryn nodded wordlessly. Her eyes skittered away from Dumbledore's face to rest against the cool white tile of the infirmary floor.

A curtain of silence fell thickly around them.

"Aeryn."

Aeryn did not look back up.

"Why did you not tell me what Professor Snape was doing to you?"

His words slammed into her stomach like a sledgehammer. A hot rush of blood flew into her cheeks, and her hands knotted spasmodically in the bed sheets. Anger and shame flooded through her veins, and Aeryn bit her lip hard, hearing her breath catch jaggedly in her throat.

No. No. Not like this. Not when she was so weak, so unprepared for it all. She could not do it. Not now.

But the headmaster's words hung hollowly in the infirmary air, hovering like menacing specters, and try as she might, Aeryn could not ignore them.

She bowed her head.

"I couldn't." Her voice was flat and lifeless even to her own ears. She drew a deep breath, the action sending echoes of despair through her veins. "I'm a mutant, headmaster." The smallest of tremors broke suddenly into her voice, and Aeryn winced, screwing her eyes tightly shut as if the movement could force the quivers away. "I never could do magic. Never." Her breath was coming fast and shallow in her chest now, and the words spilled from her lips in one last rush. "I've been pretending all this time, and then--he would have told you that I was a mutant--and then even when he wouldn't have, I couldn't, because Lockhart--he would have--and even then I couldn't--"

Her throat constricted, cutting her off in mid-sentence. The pressure of unshed tears behind her eyes was almost overbearing. Aeryn whimpered and put a hand to her face.

The silence filling the room was stifling.

"Oh, Aeryn," Dumbledore breathed. "Oh, my dear."

Something in his voice caused Aeryn to freeze. Very slowly, she lifted her face from her hand. What met her eyes nearly stopped the breath in her throat. Headmaster Dumbledore was gazing at her with such an open look of misery on his strong features that it nearly made Aeryn sick to look at him. But though tinged greatly with sympathy, sympathy and overwhelming pity--for that she could understand--his misery was also colored with unconcealed...crushing...guilt....

And a shocking revelation illuminated the darkest recesses of her consciousness.

"You...you knew," she whispered, more certain of this than she had ever been of anything in her life. "You knew that I'm a mutant."

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heaved a forlorn sigh that sounded as if it came from the very bottom of his soul. "Yes."

The breath wheezed from Aeryn's lungs as if she had just been punched in the chest.

Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his crooked nose. She could see him visibly struggle to form the words, could feel his remorse wafting from him as if it were a strong perfume. "But I could not be one hundred percent certain unless I asked you directly...and I could not do that, if I wanted to protect you."

Aeryn swallowed with a throat that had gone as dry as the Sahara. "Protect me?" she croaked.

Dumbledore's blue eyes caught hers, and sincere heartbreak filled his gaze. "You of all people know full well the suspicion held towards mutants," he said in a low voice. "If I did not know for certain that you were a mutant, I could protect you from those who would hunt you, even if I was under the influence of Veritaserum."

He spread his hands in a hopeless, sorrowful gesture. "So I suspected from afar...and prayed that my suspicions were wrong."

Aeryn was stunned beyond feeling. Somewhere, in the very back of her mind, she was screaming in rage, in anger, in denial--no, this can't be happening, he wasn't supposed to know--but all she could do was gaze with a wide-eyed disbelief into Dumbledore's face. He had wanted to protect her--he had been acting in the only way he could have--after everything I have sacrificed, you come here and tell me that it was all for naught--

But no matter how she railed, no matter how much she cried to the heavens that it wasn't true...it was.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She finally found the will, somehow, to form the question. "When the Ministry--" it was surprising to hear that, even though her words were as disjointed as her thoughts, her voice did not tremble. "When they came to test--you didn't--"

Dumbledore slowly rubbed his forehead with his long fingers. "I could not, without them discovering you," he said quietly. "When it comes to this--my hands are tied--so much is changing in this world and even I cannot...."

Of course, Aeryn thought distantly as his voice trailed away.

She should be furious.

She had every right to slap him across the face and begin weeping uncontrollably.

She had at least earned that right, with everything she had been through.

But she did not. She merely settled back against her pillows, watching impassively as Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wearily covered his eyes with one hand and sighed again, the same despairing sound as the wind blowing through leafless branches.

"Headmaster," she said.

Dumbledore looked back up at her, his melancholy apparent in his face.

Her hands were cold and she realized that her feet had fallen asleep.

"Why did you allow me into Hogwarts?" she asked.
He gazed at her for a long, long moment. Then, to her surprise, the smallest of smiles lifted his lips. "Because you do have magic, Aeryn," he murmured.

Aeryn shook her head. "No, I don't," she corrected him quietly.

--not entirely true anymore, songbird, but the old goon doesn't have to know that, now does he?--

With the gentlest of gestures, Dumbledore leaned forward and rested his fingers against Aeryn's forehead. Aeryn closed her eyes momentarily. His touch was warm and soft against her skin, as soothing as balm on a wound.

"It's all in there," he whispered. "Locked away in your mind. That is the only difference, you realize, between wizards and Muggles. For Muggles have the ability to do magic--oh, yes they do, if they only knew it--but it is only the mind of a wizard that has evolved to unlock that secret door in our subconscious."

His fingers gently stroked her skin. "That is why you are so special, my dear. You are a telepath--with the ability to see into the mind, to probe, to find that which is hidden and bring it to light. I had hoped that in time, that your wonderful, terrible power would give you the ability to unlock your magic and allow you into this world to which you truly belong."

Aeryn stared at Dumbledore. For a moment, his words rested momentarily in the air, and then the meaning lit her brain with startling clarity. "That--" She put a hand to her forehead, covering his fingers. "That can be done?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. He leaned back, his hand sliding away from her face as he regarded her calmly. "I know because there was once a boy--a powerful wizard in his own right who was also blessed with the gift of telepathy." He sighed and looked briefly away from her as if searching the walls of Hogwarts themselves for the memories. Then he shrugged, and turned his blue gaze back to her. "That combination was more than we ever could have imagined." He stretched out his hand and laid it atop of hers, lying cold against the top of her covers.

"I'm afraid," he murmured, "that you have already met him, down in the Chamber of Secrets."

A small, forlorn, and knowing smile twitched Aeryn's mouth.

After a long moment, Dumbledore gently patted her hand and stood up. The purple silk of his robes rustled in the still air. "I believe there is someone waiting outside who wishes to speak to you," he said, and without another word walked over to the infirmary entrance.

He carefully pulled open the heavy oak door and a familiar black-robed figure stepped in.

Aeryn's heart stopped in her chest.

The coal-black gaze of Professor Severus Snape found Aeryn instantly. For a moment he was still as if turned into stone, staring at her as if she had appeared out of thin air. Then a slow, brilliant smile lit his sallow features.

"Miss Blake," he whispered.

Aeryn nodded, her eyes locked upon him. "Professor," she murmured.

There was a soft click as Dumbledore exited the infirmary, closing the door behind him.

The Potions master walked over to Aeryn's bedside and sat down in the chair that Dumbledore had just occupied. Lines of stress creased his features, and the hollow shadows of fatigue rimmed his eyes. After a moment, he stretched out a hand and gently captured Aeryn's wrist.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his long fingers spidering across her skin and pressing firmly above her artery. A pocket watch suddenly appeared in his free hand and he looked down at it, a serious expression on his features.

"Okay." Aeryn could feel the slow throb of her blood as it pulsed between his fingers. His fingers were cool, and she fidgeted slightly.

"How are you?" she asked after a moment.

"Well." He shrugged slightly, his eyes fixed upon the face of the watch. "Any lingering effects?"

"No," Aeryn said.

She bit her lip and looked away from him. A long, uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the gentle ticking of his watch and the slow, rhythmic sound of her breathing. She drummed the fingers of her free hand unconsciously against the bed sheets, feeling very warm all of a sudden.

"You took the spell for me," she whispered, the words coming out before she could stop them. "Thank you." If you hadn't I wouldn't have been able to save Harry and then Lockhart would have gotten away and then...there was so much she wanted to say, to explain, but though her mind flowed with a hundred different thoughts, her tongue was frozen solid as a block of ice.

"That certainly wasn't one of the most intelligent things I've done in my life," the Potions master said, and in his voice was a dry, reassuring amusement that Aeryn had not heard from him in a long, long time. She smiled.

His fingers tightened slightly against her wrist.

"But you are welcome," he murmured.

Aeryn bit her lip.

"Potter has already recounted your confrontation with Lockhart to the Headmaster and the Ministry," Snape said after another long moment.

Aeryn nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He chuckled. "Remembering a certain winter afternoon in Potions class, I can't honestly say that I'm surprised."

Aeryn gave a small laugh, and finally found the nerve to dart a glance back up at the Potions master's face. His gaze was trained somewhere towards the floor, his profile clearly outlined in the sunlight from the infirmary window.

The pocket watch had vanished from his hand, but he still held her wrist.

Aeryn looked down at his hand. He had nice hands, she decided. A pianist's hands, or a surgeon's hands--suited for delicate work, intricate work that required a steady grip and a sure eye. They looked as if he took care of them. He would have made a very successful living in the Muggle world, although perhaps in his youth the other children would have teased him for being so careful about his hands, not wanting to play sports or do anything to endanger their flexibility.

She wondered why she suddenly felt so warm.

"He almost got away with it," she said softly.

Aeryn saw his head turn towards her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. She did not know what she had expected to see there, but it was certainly not the calm puzzlement that she read in his eyes. For an instant, she completely forgot what she had been speaking about.

"Lockhart." She had to finally force the word from her mouth. "If he hadn't bragged about it to you...you know, the whole Mead thing...he could have gotten away with it." She shifted uncomfortably on the bed and her eyes slipped away from him. "Away with everything," she finished lamely.

"He could have." Snape's voice was calm and even. "Fortunately, that wasn't his style."

Aeryn made an agreeing noise in the back of her throat. Yes...now that he was gone, she could almost appreciate the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's flamboyancy. Had he been different--for example, like Professor Snape--neither of them would have been able to figure out what was going on until it was too late, for he would have been too clever, too calculating--

--as clever and calculating as his seduction, pretty bird, move in nice and slow and then--

Aeryn hissed loudly and clamped her hands to the sides of her head, trying to wring out the sudden, cutting, poisonous whisper that drifted through her mind like a fleeting curl of smoke. "Stop it," she growled between clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the visions that leapt into her mind's eye. "Stop it, stop it, stop it."

Snape drew away from her as if she had stung him. "I didn't--"

"No!" The word exploded from her throat. With great effort, Aeryn dropped her hands and looked at the Potions master. "It's...not you." His features were tight, and she swallowed hard, feeling the remnants of Lockhart's consciousness melt untraceably back into the recesses of her mind. "It's just that...my crazy little acts of heroism have had an unforeseen side-effect."

The expression on his face did not change, but Aeryn could feel the waves of disbelief roiling from him.

"Did Harry say what I did to Lockhart before I killed him?" she asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Absorbing his powers?"

"Yes." Odd, eight months ago I would have fought tooth and nail to keep anyone from finding out about my secret, and here I am volunteering information. "But I also absorbed...part of him. His mind. God, he's annoying." She laughed slightly, but the sound was oddly tinny in her ears. "Funny, that didn't happen the first time."

"The first time?"

Aeryn's heart twisted. She was about to say never mind, that it wasn't anything, it was just a random thought that had no bearing whatsoever on reality. But instead she sighed, looking down at her hands lying against the bed.

It was a little late at this point in time to be keeping secrets.

"When I was fifteen, I absorbed the abilities of two powerful mutants who had killed my parents," she said softly. Her fingers twisted distractedly into the blanket covering her legs. The material twisted into little spirals as she twirled her fingers round and round, and she felt slight pricks of pain as the blood was squeezed from the fingertip. "I wasn't born with telepathy or telekinesis. But that's how I got them."

Her words trailed away into a stunned silence.

"Oh," said Snape after a moment. He sounded as if he had something stuck in his throat.

Aeryn nodded wordlessly, still not daring to look up.

The Potions master coughed, an uncomfortable sound that tore roughly through the still air of the infirmary. "So, is that how you cured me?"

"I just absorbed the spell," Aeryn murmured. She captured a fold of the blanket between her fingers and began to pull at it, noticing how the material stretched until the small holes of the knit were impossible to see through. "I didn't get any of your mind."

"Thank God." The underlying humor lacing his words was enough to pull Aeryn's head up, and she watched as a self-depreciating smile twitched his lips. "I would not wish the dark recesses of my mind on my worst enemy."

An answering smile drifted unbidden across Aeryn's face, and she gave a small laugh. "It still wasn't much fun," she confided to him.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I believe it."

Their gazes locked, and they sat there, the silence pressing about them like a heavy cloak. Aeryn tucked her lip between her teeth, feeling blood begin to warm her cheeks. She wanted to tell him--now that this nightmare was over, that Lockhart was gone--now that there were no more obstacles to climb over to find redemption--perhaps now healing could begin, that events could be resolved--

"Thank you," Snape whispered suddenly.

The thoughts spinning in her head suddenly whirled and spiraled to a sudden halt, and Aeryn froze. It was a moment before she completely understood what he had just said, and it was a moment more before she could formulate words.

"You're welcome," she murmured, unable to think of anything else to say.

The Potions master leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, his shoulders straightening as if he was comfortably settling to deliver a lecture. "So," he exclaimed, clasping his hands around his knee. "That bastard's inside your head now. Not a very fitting reward for your heroic deeds."

She shrugged, feeling oddly light-headed. "It could be worse."

"Could it?" The skepticism lining his voice was tangible.

Aeryn made a face. "I guess it's worth it. After all, I cured you, didn't I?"

But the Potions master did not speak, and silence again descended upon the room. Aeryn sighed and looked out the window. The sun reflected in golden sparkles from the waters of the lake, and the trees were swaying in a gentle breeze.

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me that the Ministry wanted to ask me some questions about Lockhart's death--probably so I can be cleared of all charges." She raised her eyebrows, twisting her lips into a wry smirk. "That should make for a cheerful conversation. 'Hello, Miss Blake, so did you really mean to chop off Gilderoy's head or was it just an accident?'" She chuckled. "I can just see the look on Cornelius Fudge's face right now."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snape flinch suddenly. Had she been speaking to anyone else, Aeryn would have ignored the reaction as a slight twitch, a random uncontrollable movement of the muscles. But this was Snape. She looked over at him in time to see an expression that she was beginning to know very well indeed waft across his features, only to be wiped away the instant he felt her eyes upon him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Snape quickly turned his face away from her. "Nothing."

Aeryn frowned. An odd tension underlay his words, and any time he said nothing in that manner, it really meant something of immense importance. "No," she protested, sitting up in the bed. "What did I say?"

He folded his arms across his chest and did not speak.

Her eyes narrowed searchingly, turning her previous words over in her mind. "Something about Cornelius Fudge."

His lips tightened into a thin line.

The glimmer of a memory began to seep into the forefront of Aeryn's consciousness. She tilted her head. "He doesn't like you for some reason, does he?" she asked slowly.

The Potions master gave a sharp sniff. "That's stating it mildly."

His voice was filled with such festering pain that Aeryn nearly flinched as it hit her ears. Somewhere deep within her a little voice began firmly telling her to stop, stop, back up the train, she was digging too deep, she had no right to be asking these types of questions, that it wouldn't make any difference--

"Why?" her voice asked before she could stop herself.

The whole of Snape's body tightened as if an Arctic wind had just burst into his face. Then, slowly, his head swiveled around and he looked her full in the face. His features were blank, as smooth as if an invisible hand had been stroked across them, but his coal-black eyes were smoldering with a mixture of anger and agony. He drew a deep, long breath and stared calmly at her.

"Because," he said in a low, dead voice. "I killed his wife."

Aeryn felt her cheeks cool as the blood suddenly drained from them. She gaped at the Potions master disbelievingly--no, he couldn't have meant--she had to have heard him incorrectly--but he merely looked at her with his calm, level gaze, and she felt the beginnings of panic settle in her throat.

"Oh," she choked.

Snape stared at her for another long moment, and for an instant she thought she would shrink into herself beneath the emptiness in his black eyes. Then his shoulders drooped infinitesimally and he looked away. "Your friends--"

Frantically, Aeryn leaned forward and grabbed his hand, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

If he left it at that--if he went on without explanation, she would never again have the chance to ask him, of that she was certain--there was more to it than what he was saying, she knew it, she could see the dead agony behind his eyes, and he couldn't have--he wouldn't have--

"No," she pleaded.

Misery twisted the Potions master's features. She clung to his hand, silently willing him to turn, look at her, see the desperation in her eyes--she had to know--if he didn't tell her, then she would believe forevermore--

"Miss Blake," he muttered between clenched teeth, and she could hear the echoes of denial in his voice, his desire to refuse--and the pain, the bone-chilling ache that leaches into one's soul and does not fade over time, but only becomes stronger and heavier as the years wear on....

Her eyes did not waver from him.

"Please," Aeryn whispered.

With a savage motion, Snape yanked his hand away from her touch, his features hardening into stone. Aeryn's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. She had pressed him too far. She silently cursed herself, looking down at the blanket covering her legs. If only she could....

"I once had a sister," the Potions master murmured suddenly.

Startled, Aeryn looked back towards him. His face was still hard, but eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall somewhere over her left shoulder, softened slightly by the sudden glaze of memory. "She was fifteen years older than me, and I loved her with all my heart, in that silly, worshipful way that younger siblings do."

Very slowly, Aeryn leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands as she kept her gaze fixed on him.

Snape rubbed his fingers across his forehead as if he were massaging away the onset of a headache. "After Ariadne--my sister--graduated from Hogwarts, she continued with her studies and eventually became an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. It was there she met Cornelius Fudge, and after several years they married." The smallest of smiles flickered once at his lips. "I remember going to the wedding and being very uncomfortable in my new robe that my mother had bought me, which is an unbearable torture when you are ten."

Aeryn gave a little grin.

"The years passed. I attended Hogwarts, and in my third year my parents died. I was already discontent with school--for numerous reasons--and this event only served to draw me further into my shell." Snape closed his eyes momentarily. "I was sent to live with Ariadne. But I was difficult, to say the least, which did not serve to raise her husband's opinion of me. We never got along, which--I am certain--was a constant strain on her. Immediately following my graduation from Hogwarts I moved out, vowing to have nothing more to do with Cornelius Fudge."

Aeryn could see the muscles of Snape's shoulders bunch through the fabric of his robe. She willed herself not to move as the Potions master heaved a long sigh, putting one hand to the side of his face.

"I became...involved with Voldemort's league shortly afterwards." His jaw tightened. "I lost contact with Ariadne for several years--save for the occasional package or letter at Christmas. I'm certain--I could tell--that the distance between us disturbed her. Greatly." He coughed awkwardly. "But by that point in time, I...."

His voice cracked, and for a moment he did not speak, but his face was suddenly haggard and weary. Aeryn did not press him to finish his sentence. When he began speaking again, his words were strangely choked.

"One day several of us were chosen for a mission. Voldemort's power was rising and he wanted us to...send a message. We were often told to do this, by then it was no longer...difficult...for us." He licked his lips, and his eyes were suddenly haunted. "But this time it was different, this time he wanted to send a message a bit more powerful, a bit more personal. To the Minister of Magic."

Snape made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. "I did not know that he meant the new Minister of Magic that had just been inducted that day, did not know that...he meant my brother-in-law."

Aeryn was silent as he drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I went with four others to Fudge's house, and...Ariadne was there. Alone." She could hear him fighting for control, and her heart knifed sideways at his tortured face. "We wore masks...she did not know that I was there...I had not seen her for nearly four years, I had not expected...."

He laughed brokenly. "We had been instructed that we were fighting for the right side, that those against us were wrong and...evil..." His eyes screwed shut as if someone had just stuck a sword into his stomach. "But...this was my sister...."

Aeryn put a hand to her mouth.

"She was strong. She fought back, but she was outnumbered, there were four of them...." A sound resembling a sob escaped his lips. "They killed her...and I...I did nothing--nothing--as they tortured and...."

His voice trailed away and he turned his face blindly away from her, shielding his features with his hands.

Aeryn did not speak, but her throat was tight.

"That was the beginning of the end." His voice was muffled. "Shortly afterwards I left Voldemort's legion."

His robes rustled as he sat back up straight with what appeared to be a great effort. He pulled his hands away from his face and gazed at her. He looked as if he had aged ten years, and wet shadows rimmed his coal-black eyes.

"Fudge doesn't know that I was there that night." His words were broken. "That I killed Ariadne with my silence, just as much as if I had pointed my wand at her. But he knows that Death Eaters killed his wife, and that I was once a Death Eater." His lips twitched. "And so he hates me, and will always hate me, until the day I die."

He heaved a sigh and turned his head to look out the infirmary window, his jaw setting in the faintest echo of his professorial control. Aeryn's breath was shallow in her lungs, and there was a queer pain spearing through her chest, as if someone had bound it tightly with iron bands.

"I had bought that robe for her birthday," Snape whispered. "I never got the chance...."

But his features suddenly crumpled and a pained, inhuman noise escaped him. His shoulders gave a little shudder, and the Potions master covered his eyes with one trembling hand. A stunned silence dropped like a curtain between them, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Aeryn reached forward and laid her hand softly on Snape's cheek.

She could feel his jaw muscles clench and unclench as he fought for control. As gently as if touching a butterfly wing, she stroked her fingers along his cheek, feeling the rough texture of unshaven stubble, the coolness of his skin.

The Potions master drew a deep, shuddering breath and reached up to gently capture Aeryn's hand. For a second, they sat there unmoving. Then, Snape swiftly drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

Before Aeryn could react, he gave a sad smile and placed her hand carefully onto the bed sheets. Without a word, he rose to his feet and exited the room in a swirl of black robes.

* * *

The next day Aeryn pulled her robe over her head, giving a slight wince as the unused muscles stretched protestingly. After several long days in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had finally decided that Aeryn was well enough to get out of bed. Aeryn smoothed the material of the bodice with one hand, wondering for the first time why she had purchased so many unusable robes from Madam Malkin's that day in Diagon Alley. Certainly, her white muslin robe was pretty, and would be cool to wear on this hot day--but she would stand out like a sore thumb in the sea of standard-issue black student robes.

"A shame all my normal school robes have been destroyed over the course of the year," she muttered to her reflection in the infirmary mirror, tucking her short brown hair neatly behind her ears. Ah well, she had been through worse crises. She quickly stuck her tongue out at her reflection, doing her best to ignore the heavy black circles shadowing her eye sockets, and sat back down on the bed. Aeryn reached beneath the bed, searching for her sandals.

Cornelius Fudge had already visited her that morning. "Nothing spectacular, Miss Blake," he had said in a very businesslike manner, sitting down in the chair next to her bed and pulling a thick sheet of parchment from thin air. "There are just a few key details the Ministry wishes to clear up regarding Gilderoy Lockhart's death."

Aeryn finally found her shoes and slipped her feet into them. She had answered the questions as quickly and precisely as she had been able to do so. It had been surprising, she mused as she stood up, shifting her weight from foot to foot, that--for perhaps the first time since that evening on the lake--the presence of Lockhart had not arisen in her mind to comment or critique.

Perhaps that meant he was finally fading away into oblivion.

Aeryn shrugged and straightened the sleeves of her robe. Nothing spectacular, nothing special--Fudge had left as quickly as he had come, leaving Aeryn feeling more than a little relieved and less than totally reassured.

All she thought about while she had spoken with him was Ariadne Snape.

Aeryn tossed her head and gave a little shake. She still felt weak--a temporary setback, Madam Pomfrey had told her, it would be gone within the next few days as long as she remembered to take the medicine she had been given--but other than that, better than she had felt for a long, long time.

There was a rustle of robes, and Aeryn looked up to see Madam Pomfrey bustling towards her.

"Aeryn, dear," the school nurse said, holding out something towards her. "This just came for you."

Curiously, Aeryn reached out and took the object. It was a small silver box, no larger than a deck of cards, and wrapped lengthwise with a dark blue ribbon of silk. Aeryn turned it carefully over in her hands. The box was so intricately crafted that she could see no line, no seam where lid met bottom met side. It looked as if it had been carved from a single block of pewter, with no way to open it.

Aeryn cradled the box in her palms, raising it before her eyes. "How'm I supposed to open this?" she asked in puzzlement.

As the words escaped her lips, the box gave a sudden shudder, and Aeryn blinked in surprise as the ribbon untied as if by an invisible hand and slithered away. A small seam fissured across the center of the top, and the silver lid folded open, revealing a layer of white cotton and a piece of parchment.

Aeryn's brow furrowed. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bed, placing the box carefully on her lap. Very gently, she lifted the parchment from the box and unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar handwriting.

Miss Blake-

Your presence has the aggravating habit of always unraveling my carefully planned words. Really, it is difficult enough to deal with in Potions class, but when I actually have something important to say, it is downright maddening. Hence this package, which I had hoped to present to you in person. Since you are a reasonably intelligent young woman--even though a Gryffindor--I hope you will understand and excuse the lack of cultural niceties in this letter and not be offended as I commence to speak freely.
Had I been you, I would have let me die on that hospital bed, choking on my own blood. I could not think of a more fitting punishment for the way I have treated you over the past year.
Yet you saved me--even risked your own life to do so. Just as you had saved me, months before, on that cold Christmas night.
I will not ask you why you did such a thing, for there are some things that cannot be expressed by mere words. But I do know that your generosity (for lack of a better word) stems from deep within you, and is as natural to your nature as breathing, as being, and its beauty stuns me.
You may remember the gift in this box. I offered it once to you in the heat of subterfuge and lust. I offer it now to you without strings, without expectations--a shabby embodiment of my heartfelt thanks and gratitude, I realize, but it will have to suffice.
I would have left me to die. But you did not. And for that--once more--I thank you.

Yours,
Severus Snape

Aeryn swallowed hard and folded the note with suddenly clumsy fingers.

"Well, dear?" Madam Pomfrey appeared at her shoulder, looking curiously into the depths of the small box. "Let's have a look, what have you got?"

Aeryn reached into the box, slipping her fingers beneath the layer of cotton. Her skin grazed something cool, and she hooked her fingertips into a coil of something that slid through her touch like a stream of water.

She lifted her hand and the light of the infirmary sparkled off a delicately wrought silver chain as it slithered slowly from the box.

"Oh, my heavens." The school nurse drew an admiring breath.

The beautiful pendant swung free from the wrappings, spinning merrily as the thumbnail-sized blue jewel glinted in the light, cradled in its filigreed setting.

Aeryn's throat constricted. Slowly, as if she was moving through water, she rose to her feet, barely hearing the awed coos of Madam Pomfrey. The girl walked towards the infirmary mirror, the weight of the necklace surprisingly heavy in her hands.

Madam Pomfrey's reflection was suddenly beside her in the mirror. "It's absolutely breathtaking," she gushed as Aeryn jerkily lifted her hands to clasp the necklace about her throat. "Is that a real sapphire?"

The clasp fastened as easily as if she had done it a hundred times before. Her fingertips trailed slowly along the length of the chain, coming to rest upon the cool smoothness of the jewel. In the reflection of the mirror her skin and robe were unnaturally white, and against that setting the gem glistened like a live thing, magnified by the nearly-matching color of Aeryn's eyes.

"Who sent you such a gift, dearie?" the school nurse asked.

A thousand differing emotions danced in Aeryn's blood, and she was instantly aware of every small detail around her--the tiny draft wafting from one corner of the infirmary--the slight crack at the very right-hand edge of the mirror--the small thread trailing from the hem of her white muslin sleeve--the fading chill of the silver against her skin--but through it all, through every sudden memory that zipped through her, she felt...with a reassuring, comfortable realization...warmth.

And she smiled.

"A friend," Aeryn answered quietly, letting her hands slide to her sides. Her reflection gazed calmly back at her in the mirror, and, for the first time, she saw the beginnings of peace reflected in the depths of her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

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