These Deep Solitudes

Chapter Five - Solarus Tormente

"We don't know each other's secrets quite so well as we flatter ourselves we do. We don't always know our own secrets as well as we might."

-- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

The next morning Rain spent an inordinate amount of time fussing in front of her mirror. Her first day as a teacher. Oh, this was a mistake. She was a writer. A biographer. Of dead people--not children. What did one do with children? She took a deep breath and smoothed out her deep blue robes. Her hands shook. Stop that, she told them sternly. There's nothing to be nervous about. You like children. Besides, after dealing with the clan, a lot of Hogwarts students will be easy.

With Dumbledore's sanction, Rain had decided to begin each class with fifteen minutes of recent history, specifically of the last fifty years, Voldemort's rise and fall and the second rising. At least her day began with ickle firsties.

She snickered and bit her lips against the slightly hysterical laughter that threatened. I'm too young to do this--well, not too young, perhaps, but too irreverent, obviously. This is ridiculous.

Ah, but you were too young and irreverent to be Lady McGonagall, too. Look how that turned out.

She gulped. "Exactly. An alcoholic clan leader who insisted on spinsterhood. Lord knows how many of them shut up only because they were afraid I've gone mad!"

"Of course you're not, dear," her mirror said.

The next moment her door said in admiring tones, "This one's scary; your cousin, is she?" and opened to reveal Minerva.

"Charming butler you have," she remarked dryly. "All right, to breakfast with you."

"Oh, but I--"

"Out!" she barked, and Rain, grabbing her satchel, jumped to obey. Minerva marched behind her all the way to the great hall. "I had a feeling you'd be green with nerves. Move along, Rain. You'll be fine. The blue suits you, by the way. Good choice. He'll like it. Now just remember, in this place, you aren't Lady McGonagall, you're a professor. People here know much less of you than the clan does. This is your true home. You can relax here."

Rain was so touched by the depth of Minerva's knowledge of her fears that she almost missed the sly remark. She widened her eyes, but her cousin guided her serenely to the head table and watched to be certain Rain ate some tea and toast.

~*~

The first years had been such a relief, Rain thought after her first lesson, even if they were Slytherins. Her next group was fourth year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. She wondered briefly if Dumbledore had decided As the students filed in and took their seats, she leaned against the front of her desk.

"Good morning," she said. "This year we will be covering the Goblin Rebellions and the history of Magical Being Races. At the beginning of each class, however, we will begin with some recent history in Wizarding Britain. Right then. Can anyone tell me who Tom Marvolo Riddle was?"

As she had expected, no hands went up. She waited a moment longer, smiling. "All right, who can tell me who Rubeus Hagrid is?" Every hand shot up. As she nodded at a blonde Hufflepuff girl, Rain was thankful that she finally knew the complete story of the Chamber of Secrets. Knowing who Voldemort was and from where he had come would hopefully bring them one step closer to his final defeat.

She began telling the story of the Chamber's first opening, leaving off before explaining who had done it or telling them that Tom Riddle had become Lord Voldemort. That she would save for next time.

~*~

Remus was surprised, when he dismissed his Gryffindor fifth years, to hear someone calling Harry's name. The boy hadn't even made it completely out the door when a red-haired girl grabbed his arm--Ginny Weasley.

"Harry, have you heard about Professor Rain?" she asked in a voice that sounded close to tears.

Harry hissed at her and jerked his head none-too-subtly in Remus' direction. Well, he could take a hint. Biting back a smile, he snapped his briefcase shut. "Don't miss lunch," he said mildly, slipping between them on his way out of the room. As he had anticipated, Harry pulled Ginny into the now-empty classroom. Shamelessly, Remus crept back to listen, knowing Harry would have done the same.

"Harry, my friend Jessie told me she was talking about the Chamber of Secrets! She was telling them about Tom!" Yes, there were definitely tears in her voice. Remus blinked. Rain was talking about the Chamber of Secrets? Surely she had cleared it with Dumbledore.

"Well, people should learn about Voldemort, Gin," Harry said awkwardly.

"But--but, Harry," she wailed, "she'll tell them about me!"

There was a quiet thumping sound. "Come on, Gin, buck up. She won't tell anyone. You know what Dumbledore said. Look, it wasn't your fault." He sounded more awkward by the moment. "Come on, then. What else did your friend say about her?"

Ginny sniffled loudly and sighed. "Oh, that she's fantastic. Loads better than old Binns. She makes it really interesting, Jessie said. Like you were there while it happened."

"I don't have her until Thursday," Harry said. "When do you see her?"

Ginny sniffled again. "Tomorrow," she said dolefully.

"Look, go talk to her tonight," Harry said. There was a silence, then he laughed. "All right, do you want me to go and talk to her?"

"Oh, Harry, would you?"

"Of course," he said. "I've got a free period after lunch; I'll go and find her now, and eat later."

"Oh, Harry, you're the best."

He laughed again. "I'll tell you later what she says."

Remus hastened away from the door and made his way towards the Great Hall. Harry caught him up before he reached it.

"Professor Lupin, do you know where I could find Professor Rain?"

"Lunch?" Remus suggested, but his gentle sarcasm was lost on Harry.

The boy's green eyes were thoughtful. "Sir, Hermione says you were friends, back in school, you and Professor Rain, I mean."

"Yes."

"Sir, I've heard that she's teaching about Voldemort." A couple of nearby students shushed them angrily, but Harry ignored them.

Remus considered his words carefully, trying to decide what would allay Ginny's fears. "Headmaster Dumbledore has asked all the teachers here to align the students against the Dark Lord, and prepare them for the war." Harry blinked and Remus wondered if he had been too frank. But no, this was Harry, after all; one way or another, he would have discovered things. "I am certain Rain will not give out information that would damage innocent people."

Harry opened his mouth, hesitated, and nodded. "Thanks, Professor. Erm, could I maybe bring some friends up for tea, sometime?"

Surprised and gratified, Remus smiled. "Of course, Harry."

"Thanks! See you later, Professor!"

Remus smiled and followed him into the Great Hall. The unpleasant sight of Snape, hovering over Rain's chair, greeted him. Jealousy welled up in him but he squashed it ruthlessly. Rain and Severus had been friends before. Why shouldn't she renew that friendship? Lord knew, it would make relations in the Order a little easier, with her to smooth things between the Marauders and the Slytherin. He sighed and went up to sit by Poppy Pomfrey, who greeted him cheerfully.

Several minutes later, Snape swept his robes around him and strode away. He didn't look angry or sour as he usually did, though. To Remus he seemed almost...sad.

~*~

The Dark Mark was burning with the heat of a thousand suns. Severus imagined the skin of his arm blistering, splitting, oozing sticky pustulant fluids. It took all his willpower not to clutch at it convulsively. He scowled at a pair of second years, but their flustered retreat gave him no satisfaction. He almost wished the Mark truly burned the skin; at least then there were potions and unguents that would provide relief.

Five hours he would have to endure until he could walk into Hogsmeade and Apparate to the Dark Lord. Five hours, and double potions with the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins--of all classes, it had to be the one where Snape must be doubly vigilant before the twin perils of Potter and Malfoy. And Katraina was still scoffing at his warnings.

Growling a curse under his breath, he turned a corner and went down a dank, narrow staircase towards the Potions Dungeon. Part of him wished to God that Katraina had never returned to Hogwarts. Most of him wished it. She would get herself killed if she didn't demonstrate a bit more caution than she had so far. And life was more endurable if she were absent, instead of present daily in body as well as spirit, adding so many hues and shades to a world he had seen in black and white. She only complicated his life by being so friendly, by stirring the past--it was far too late to drag out the past now, he thought sourly.

But one small, selfish part of him couldn't help feeling that perhaps, if Heaven had seen fit to return Katraina to Hogwarts, to remind Severus of all that he had held and lost, perhaps he had in some small measure been forgiven for the evil he had done.

Traitor was what Severus had named that part of him.

Before his fourth year, when a smart and sassy third year Ravenclaw had been nervy enough to stand up under his barrage of sarcasm, Severus hadn't understood the concept of friendship. There was no room for friendship in Slytherin House. Loyalty, yes, alliance, yes, but friendship--that was a death knell. But then a silly Ravenclaw, skinny as a rail and knock-kneed, had put her hands on her hips and, in front of the entire Slytherin table, told him to sod off.

He'd hexed her, and his head of house happened to hear. Detention for hexing a younger student--and the Transfiguration Teacher's cousin, for pity's sake! And worse, the swotty little Ravenclaw seemed to think Severus was her bundle now.

"Snape, Professor Morraine told me my Shrinking Solution needs work."

"What do I care?" he said rudely, pushing past her.

"Because you're good at Potions," she replied. One of the other Slytherin fourth years tittered. Snape had seen them all through more than one Potions exam.

"Go away, brat," he snarled.

"I know how much you hate to see a potion all cocked up," she said, and he could hear the triumph in her voice. But she was right. He stopped walking.

"Did you put the rat spleen in before or after the leech juice?" he snapped.

"Before."

He sighed. Damn Ravenclaws, anyway. Always too smart for their own good. "Well, how much leech juice did you use?"

"A jigger."

"Daft bird," he sneered. "A dash more than suffices. You're lucky you weren't poisoned." And though he snarled and glared, he could feel her satisfied gaze on his back as he stalked away from her.

Stop. STOP. This was pointless. Why think of the past? There was too much darkness in it.

He had tried to warn her just now at lunch, but in the Great Hall, with Dumbledore in view, she hadn't taken his warning seriously. Damn Ravenclaws anyway. Always thought they knew it all, without listening to those who knew better.

The Dark Mark burned on his arm, and Snape twisted his mouth into a bitter smile. Five hours to go, and there were Gryffindors to torture.

~*~

When Ginny Weasley's form came in for their first History of Magic lesson, Rain kept a careful eye on the redheaded girl. Though Ginny looked pale during the recounting of Tom Marvolo Riddle's tenure as Head Boy, she put her chin up at Rain's encouraging look; after class she stopped to thank Rain for speaking with Harry.

"He was rather concerned for you, Ginny," Rain said, smiling. "It was very nice of him to speak on your behalf."

"I asked him to," Ginny confessed. "I was--well, I was afraid to talk to you, in case you might--" She broke off, looking at the floor.

"Blame you?" Rain finished, and the girl looked up again, surprised. Rain smiled. "No. We all too often manage to get caught up in events that are too big for us, and we don't always see the ripples of those events spreading out around us. When I was a student here, I had a friend--well, I had quite a crush on him, actually. And after we left Hogwarts, he became an Auror to fight against Voldemort. I had--other responsibilities that prevented my following him." She paused, wondering how best to convey Sirius' plight without making it glaringly obvious whom she meant. With a sigh, she leaned against her desk and considered her shoes. "He--he was very good at what he did. The Dark Lord wanted him nearly as much as he wanted Harry's parents. Those of us who were associated with any of them were also in danger."

She looked up and met Ginny's eyes. The Gryffindor girl seemed bewildered, but she was listening closely to what Rain said. "So--several of our friends went into hiding. My friend--the one I admired, you know--he was the only one who knew how to find some of them. Understand, Ginny, that these were very frightening times. The danger we faced then was all too present, and very real. The very mention of Voldemort's name, even now, to people who are too young to remember him, is frightening. The fear his hatred inspired--" She broke off, eyes darkening.

"I can't even imagine it," Ginny said in a low voice. "I only knew him when he was sixteen. He was so evil then...how much worse he must have become..."

"Exactly," Rain said, ducking her head to catch the girl's eye. "You do understand. We had all sacrificed in some way to our cause, some more than others. One night--the same night Lily and James Potter were murdered--I learnt that several of my friends had also been killed, that Voldemort's people had found them somehow, and of course, my dearest friend looked squarely to blame."

"He betrayed them all?" Ginny asked.

Rain closed her eyes briefly. "It looked that way." She looked at Ginny again. "For many years I had no contact with this friend. I didn't know how he was, and I only cared because he had hurt me so badly."

"You had loved him," Ginny offered.

Rain nodded. "I had loved him. And for many years, I thought that our other friends--friends who had been true, friends who had been kind and wise and understanding, but with whom I had lost contact--I thought they believed I had conspired with this man to betray them."

"Oh, but surely--" Ginny began, but Rain held up a hand.

"Surely it wasn't my fault? But I was the one who wanted to know him best; shouldn't I have known he was a traitor? Had I overlooked clues that I would have seen, had I not been so besotted with him? Had I been remiss in my duties?"

"Professor Rain--" She held up her hand again.

"I lived like that, believing I was to blame, for a very long time, Ginny. When I learnt that he had not betrayed us, that someone else had, I would have gone on blaming myself for the whole sorry mess, had not my dear friend come to me himself. He gave me a lecture like the one I'm giving you now." Rain gave Ginny a lopsided grin. "We are only responsible for our own actions, Ginny. I could not be responsible for what the true betrayer did. Nor can you be responsible for what Tom did through you. When you began losing control to him, when you began opening the Chamber for him, you ceased to act of your own volition, and became Voldemort's puppet. The moment he gained control of your unwilling body, those actions became his actions, not yours. The moment he gained control, your culpability ceased."

She put her hand on Ginny's slender shoulder. "From what I understand, you fought him. You tried to rid yourself of the diary, am I right? And the very day of your final abduction, you attempted to warn Harry. Those were actions motivated by love for your friends. And that, Ginny, is the highest motive of all. That is capable of saving a life, and saving the world."

Ginny's brown eyes were full of tears, but she took a deep breath and bit her lip, and the tears did not fall. After a moment she gave Rain a smile that was at once painfully brilliant and beautifully brittle. "Thank you, Professor," she said, and turned to go.

Rain let her. She thought, she prayed, that she had got through to her. As Ginny reached the door, she turned back. "Professor Rain? I'm glad he forgave you."

~*~

Saturday evening found Rain sitting in her window seat, looking out at the grounds. She was meant to be marking homework from her seventh years, but the peaceful feeling that had overtaken her after dinner made work seem out of place. The lingering summer weather gave the early evening a languid feel. The sunset on the Forbidden Forest reminded her of a softer light that silvered the trees at night, over which she had kept vigil each month beginning her fifth year.

She and Remus had had their first row at Christmas her fifth year. All their other friends had plans for the holiday, and she had invited Remus home to Heatherhall so he wouldn't have to spend it alone. His visit had not begun well.

"You probably should've told me about your father," Remus said, his voice deceptively mild. He'd been polite, even slightly deferential, to the Head of Clan McGonagall, but as soon as they were left alone in the library, he'd turned on Rain.

"Told you?" she retorted. "Why? What does it matter?" It did, of course. Gryffindors and Slytherins as a rule didn't get along, though Esme was an exception. Then again, Esme was an exception to every rule.

"Because--well, because," he said. She wondered if everyone would find out, if--horrors--he would tell Sirius.

"My mother was a Gryffindor," she protested. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"You're still part Slytherin," he said stubbornly.

"Going to drop me, then? Afraid to be friends with someone who has Slytherin blood?" Her voice was sharper than she had intended, and to her horror she felt tears well up in her eyes. Lord, he couldn't drop her; he was the only person she'd ever met who really understood her. You just couldn't lose a friend like that.

She stared at him. She felt as if he'd struck her, and the tears welling in her eyes spilled over. Immediately he looked down, his cheeks darkening; he knew he'd hurt her.

"You hid it from me for years," he said, sounding more defensive than angry now.

Her heart was beating very quickly. Suddenly her temper flared and she had half a second's warning that she was about to say something she would regret. "Oh, I'm secretive?" she said. "That's a bit of the pot and the kettle, isn't it, Moony?"

Her words had more of an effect than she'd expected. He went very white and stared at her, speechless in his turn. She ignored the tight pain in her chest and waited in smug silence. She knew the tables had just turned.

"You--you--"

"Yes, I know. I've known for ages. Not that you trusted me enough to tell me."

"But how--"

"Lily and I worked it out last term. James let slip to her that Sirius is an animagus, and pretty soon we figured out James and Peter were, too. Naturally we started wondering why they'd all have become animagi but you wouldn't. Then we had that Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, and I realized you were gone every full moon." He goggled at her, and she threw her hands up impatiently. "Bloody hell, Remus, there's a reason the hat put me in Ravenclaw!"

"Well, but my secret was important," he protested, rallying somewhat.

"So's mine!" she exclaimed. "D'you any idea how disappointed my Dad was?"

"You don't turn into a bloody great monster every month!" he protested.

She thought about that. "Yes, I do, actually." She fought to keep a straight face, but had a feeling her eyes would give her away.

Their eyes met, and after a long moment, Remus chuckled, his cheeks pink. "Oh. Oh, well. Hm. I suppose you do, at that."

She kept her eyes on his. "Remus, I'm sorry I kept it a secret. But can you imagine how Sirius would react, if he knew? Or Peter?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Sirius would be...very angry. And Peter would flinch every time you glanced his way."

She winced. It was an echo of her thoughts, but it hurt to hear it said aloud. "And it's odd for me," she said, trying in vain to steady her voice, "to look at the full moon, thinking it's pretty, knowing you're in torment."

His eyes clouded. "Perhaps we'll keep our secrets," he suggested.

She felt awful at the next thing, but she ought to tell him. "Er," she said in a small voice, "Severus knows." At his blank stare, she babbled on, "He is a Slytherin, after all, and I think our families have been friends for a long time--well, our parents were at Hogwarts together, you know, and so he was bound to know, even if I hadn't told him." Miserably she stopped speaking, wishing he would say something.

He startled her by laughing. "How bizarre. I really should have figured it out sooner, I expect. That settles it, then. We must protect our secrets. I can't imagine how people would react. Lord, if Snape found out about me! You must promise never to tell him."

She put her right hand over her heart. "I swear," she said fervently, and he grinned at her.

"And I swear not to point out to anyone that you come from a long line of Slytherins."

Her mother was a Gryffindor, but she saw no reason to point it out again. "Happy Christmas, Moony."

"And the same to you, Rainy Day," he responded.

Arcanus flew into her room, interrupting her reflection on the past. He looked disgruntled--well, more so than usual, at least. A moment later he was followed by a large tawny owl, which swooped in, dropped a small package, and left.

"That wasn't anyone I recognize," she remarked to Arcanus as she took the package off her bed. She looked it over curiously before opening it. It was wrapped in brown paper, with gaps at the corners, and secured with Sellotape. Odd--a Muggle product used on a wizarding package. The direction, in a hand she didn't recognize, was written very ill: Lady McGonagall, Ravenclaw, Hogwarts. Only her solicitor would have directed a letter here to Lady McGonagall.

She sighed. There wasn't really much to learn from the outside of the package. At least it wasn't red, so it couldn't be an overgrown howler. She put her fingernail under the tape and tugged.

Three minutes later she was cursing the sender, the inventor of Sellotape, and Muggles in general. The damned stuff never gave up. "Oh, sod it," she murmured, exasperated, and reached for her wand. "Alohamora!"

It was a mistake. The tape flew off the package, the paper sizzled and curled away, and suddenly the sun was inside her bedroom, blazing with unnatural intensity. Rain shrieked and covered her face with her arms, holding her hands out to ward off the light.

In her shock she had dropped her wand. She felt her hands burning and the skin cracking as she dropped to her knees. She lowered one hand, feeling along the carpet for the wand. When her fingers closed over it, she shouted "Nox!" at the top of her lungs. Nothing. Tears ran freely from her eyes.

"Finite incantatem!" The sun shone on.

Sobbing, she tried to shelter her face. Her panicked mind was scrambling for something, anything, to end this torture. Something wet ran from her fingers down her wrist, then sizzled dry again. Then, a cool, shadowy flicker of remembrance. She gasped, "Tenebrae avernum!"

The light vanished. Rain opened her eyes on white blankness. She blinked but could tell the difference only because the searing pain changed from a dry sort of pain to a scrapy sort of pain. She took a step forward and stumbled against her bed. Reeling with her arms outstretched, she found the nearest post and gripped it, a sob catching in her throat. Her other hand touched something that rattled--the remains of her package. She grabbed it and pushed herself back upright.

"Arcanus?" she whispered.

He hooted softly and a moment later feathers kissed her cheek, setting off a minor explosion of pain, and the owl settled noiselessly on her shoulder.

"Arcanus, take me to Remus, please." Her voice quivered as she spoke. She tried to think of a charm to relieve her pain, but her mind was too filled with the white hot pulses of agony.

The owl hooted and flew away. Rain pulled her cloak over her head as Arcanus hooted again. She made it to the door without hitting more than two things; the door opened with a creak, murmuring, "Best see Madam Pomfrey about that, midear."

Arcanus went ahead of her, hooting every few seconds so she could follow him. She was stumbling, and her toes caught on imagined variations in the floor, but she dug her fingernails into her palms and swallowed the groans that rose in her throat; she might not be a Gryffindor, but she could bloody well be brave. At one point she thought she heard something near--someone breathing, or light footsteps passing--but they never spoke and she ignored them.

This was what came of ignoring the warnings, this was what she got for not listening to Severus. She should have learned by now that Severus' insights were not to be taken lightly; he knew her too well, both her character and her situation, and his remarks were only motivated by his regard for her. When he had approached her at lunch and said he hoped she was keeping up her guard, she had dismissed it as an idle concern. He had been angry, of course, and now she knew he had been right to be angry. What a hard lesson to learn!

Sunlight, of all things. There couldn't be many wizards, even dark wizards, who knew Solarus Tormente. Most people had forgotten the lamia even existed, except in myths. Of those who remembered, few realized lamia and vampires were separate races. The lamia were actually closer relatives of the veela than they were of vampires. Still, sunlight could hurt them, even those who--like Rain--had only a trace of lamia heritage.

She bit back a sob. She hadn't yet told Remus. She had put it off again and again in the past weeks, and now it was too late to cushion the news.

After what seemed eons, Arcanus hooted very close to her ear and settled onto her shoulder again. Rain reached out in front of her and her questing fingers touched wood. She knocked, then leaned gratefully against the frame, shuddering to keep from falling apart.

Hinges squeaked faintly and then, blessedly, she heard Remus' voice. "Arcanus?" A pause. "Rain?"

She sobbed once, then held her breath to keep from shaming herself. His hands clasped her shoulders as Arcanus made a noise of indignation and left her. He tried to draw her into his room, but she resisted. "Remus, I need to get to Madam Pomfrey."

Thank God he didn't question her any further, but led her back into the hallway, keeping an arm around her shoulders. She raised a hand--the less painful one--to secure her hood.

"I got a--a cursed letter," she said to the tense silence at her side.

He cursed violently. Privately she agreed. Had it only been last week when she had laughed and told Snape she would be safe? "Do you have any clue who sent it?" His voice was tight.

"They used Muggle tape. But they sent it with an owl." She bit her lip as she stumbled over a step, wincing as her teeth went through the tender skin.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice sounding odd. "You need to lift your feet when you go up steps, dear. Do you need me to carry you?"

He was trying to make her laugh, she thought. Another sob welled up in her throat. She obediently picked up her feet, swallowing a couple times before she spoke. When she did, her voice quavered anyway. "Well, I can't--exactly--see anything, Remus. Everything's rather blank."

He stopped moving, presumably to peer at her; she made a frustrated noise. "Please, please, get me to the hospital wing!"

"Of course." His voice seemed muffled, but then he cleared his throat. "Do you remember the time Lily hexed James with Occula Oscuris? He'd been trying to sneak a look at her in the Prefect's Bathroom. She was furious."

She forced a laugh. "Do you remember the look on Peter's face, when James tripped over him in the common room that night?"

"Sirius never did let him forget that," Remus said.

"Thank you, Remus." His arm about her tightened briefly.

"Almost there," he said.

They walked the last several steps in silence. Rain bit her lip again, and tasted blood. She shivered slightly, but her own blood didn't affect her, after all. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, cooling it only slightly.

~*~

Madame Pomfrey made Remus wait outside while she examined Rain. Going by her horrified exclamations, Rain was almost grateful she couldn't see herself. Finally she felt Poppy's cool breath on her face as she examined Rain's eyes, gripping her head with firm but gentle hands and turning her this way and that.

"Blink for me, dear. Mm. Blink again. Good. Now turn your eyes over to the left...and to the right...Look up. Hmm."

Rain tapped her fingers together in her lap. Her heart was beating very fast, and she was feeling decidedly queasy.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Well, my dear, I don't know what to say. That was a powerful curse. Not too many know Solarus Tormente these days. You did recognize it, didn't you, dear?"

Rain nodded silently. Now Poppy knew, too. She hoped she wasn't offended that Snape was helping her--but then, the Sangrapura Potion was a very difficult one to brew.

"Right. Well, there are treatments for sunburn which I shall try on the less severe burns. Hopefully they'll at least alleviate your pain for a time. I'll need something stronger for most of your face and hands, though."

"What about my eyes?" Rain said quickly.

"Well, dear..." Madam Pomfrey paused, and Rain died at least a dozen deaths before she heard, "They are very badly hurt, I'm afraid. I'd prefer not to say without consulting a second opinion, however. Don't give up hope! I'm just not certain about the best way to treat them."

As she spoke she was busily applying a cool salve to Rain's burns. Slowly, some of the agony faded, and Rain began to calm.

"I have sent for Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said, "and I think until then we will devise a shade for your eyes..." She tied what felt like cotton gauze around Rains forehead. "Does that hurt too badly? Does it make any change in what you can see?"

Rain shook her head.

Poppy sighed again. "Shall I admit young Mr Lupin? He's been looking quite anxious."

"Please," Rain said, though all she wanted was blissful unconsciousness. She took a deep breath to steady herself, listening to his footsteps cross the infirmary to her side.

"Rain--" He broke off and muttered an oath. "What the bloody hell happened? You said it was a cursed letter!"

"It was," she said, feeling miserable.

"Pull the other one," he said. "No letter curse is powerful enough to do that."

She turned her face away from the sound of the voice. "Solarus Tormente is." Her voice sounded small, even to her.

"Sol--" He broke off. There followed a long, nasty silence. A minute later he uttered a sharp laugh that was harsh with anger. "Solarus Tormente. That shouldn't work on humans, Rain. Should have deduced this about you, should I? Should have realized your acquaintances have a habit of dying on you? That what happened to your mother? Funny how I never noticed any puncture marks on your friends, lamia." His voice had lost the beautiful Remus mildness. He sounded more like Severus than anyone.

"Yes, it came from my mother's line," she said quietly. "It's not as though I asked for it."

More mirthless laughter. How she wished she could see his face! This conversation wasn't at all as she'd intended it to be. "Right. I expect you'll be telling me next that Minerva is a vampire, too."

"I'm not a vampire!" Rain exclaimed, horrified.

"Semantics," he said dismissively.

"No, it isn't," she retorted, angry. "You should know that, Mr Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor! Vampires are made. Lamia are born. Lamia may choose to be mortal."

There was a stubborn silence. Except for the sound of his breath, quick and angry, she would have thought he had left. She shifted impatiently and he gave a wordless growl. "And this is another thing you saw fit to keep from your best friend, is it?" he asked bitterly. "I should have realized from the first lie that I was better off without you. Should have remembered how Ravenclaws love to employ sophism to get 'round the truth."

"Remus, I haven't been lying to you all our lives about this," she said, and despised the pleading she heard in her voice. "I didn't know before. I just--in the past weeks, there hasn't been a time--"

"You expect me to believe this isn't something you were hiding? To believe that you didn't lie about this?" She had only heard bitterness this strong in his voice after they heard about Lily and James--and Sirius. She felt more tears slip down her cheeks and hated him for making her cry like this.

"You don't just say, 'Right, I forgot to mention, I'm part lamia, so be careful or I'll rip your veins out with my teeth!'" she snapped.

"Perhaps it would have been better that way!" he said tightly. "Perhaps you might have found time while we were on the train, or staying in Diagon Alley."

"Perhaps I could have told you as soon as I found out!" she shot back. "Oh, wait, I forgot: you were nowhere around. You'd already pulled a runner and deserted me!"

She heard his sharp intake of breath. Then she heard his footsteps leave her side, and the door at the far end of the infirmary crashed against the wall. She bent her head and let the tears flow freely, ignoring how they hurt her eyes. Damn her temper! Rainstorm indeed. Why did she always say exactly the words she knew would hurt?

Quick, light footsteps approached her. "My goodness, is this a hospital or a war zone?" Madam Pomfrey sounded more than a bit put out.

Rain shrugged. "Remus got a bit upset."

Fortunately for her, the door opened again before she was forced to explain. Dumbledore's soothing voice met her ears. "I understand you've had a postal dispute, Rain."

She sighed, fighting the urge to giggle hysterically. "Headmaster, I'm so glad you're here."

"May I remove the bandaging, Poppy?" he asked.

"Of course, Headmaster."

Rain felt a gentle tugging, then she heard Dumbledore take a long, slow breath. "I see," he murmured, and Rain felt the insane desire to respond, Well, I don't. "I will have to speak with Severus, but I believe we can have you ready to teach again soon."

"Severus?" she said involuntarily.

"He is--not here at the moment," Dumbledore said, his voice guarded. "I believe he will be able to brew a potion to bathe your eyes.

"I hope he doesn't get as angry as Professor Lupin did," Madam Pomfrey remarked.

"I am quite certain that he shall," Dumbledore replied. "However, he tends to guard himself very carefully. I shall have a word with Remus, Poppy." He sighed, and Rain realized with a start that he really was an old man. "Rain," he said, and he sounded very sad, "have you considered who could have done this?"

She shook her head slowly. "Only that it must be someone comfortable with the Muggle world. The package was secured with Sellotape."

"May I see it?"

Rain wondered where it was. "I think I dropped it here somewhere," she said, and was rewarded by the sound of crinkling paper.

"Did you recognize the handwriting on the note?"

"Note?"

"The one that says, 'You should not have returned to Hogwarts, Creature of Darkness.'" He sounded troubled. "Rain, who knew of your...condition?"

"Well, Minerva, of course. Severus, since he's brewing the potions. You, sir. Did Madam Pomfrey know?"

"Since Severus was treating you, I saw no reason to tell her. What about your family?"

"What's left of it?" she said with unaccustomed bitterness. Oh, how she missed Esme and her father at times like these. "None of my father's other relatives have ever known, that I am aware of. Father wasn't ashamed of her--you know how much he loved her, sir; it wasn't easy for either of them. Gryffindor and Slytherin matches never are. He just didn't want her to have to defend herself from more attacks. No one would understand. But she couldn't have been a Gryffindor if lamia blood made her evil, could she?"

"My dear, you know that I do not believe that our blood determines who or what we are."

She nodded. "Even when mother--well, you might as well know the truth, sir. My mother was staked. The house defenses caught the woman who did it. Mother hadn't been well, anyway, though. Father had it put about that she died of a blood disease."

"I suppose it was an apt description," Dumbledore murmured. She could hear a smile in his voice.

"Yes, sir. I believe Father kept everything well hidden. Esme found out about the lamia ancestry right away, of course; she was the clan heir. But I didn't learn of any of this until after Esme's death. It was--she had Mother's journal. She'd read it, and made notes of her own in the pages. I found them locked in her trunk; it's enchanted so that only the clan head can open it." Rain lowered her head. "I couldn't bring myself to read it for a long time."

"And Remus didn't know?"

She shook her head.

"Ah. That explains Poppy's remark about his temper."

"He thought I'd hidden it from him deliberately."

"I see."

Just then Rain heard the door slam open again. "Madam Pomfrey? Oh! Hello, Headmaster."

"Miss Granger. Ronald seems to be in bad shape."

"Well, he would go practice in the dark, wouldn't he?" Rain was amused by the bossy tone in Hermione's voice. "I told him he wouldn't see the bludgers until they hit him, but he had to learn the hard way."

Rain couldn't help it; she sniggered. She bit her lips together, remembering how adolescent boys hated to be laughed at, thinking again that she really was too irreverent to be a teacher.

Apparently Dumbledore was not blocking the view of Rain from the door. Hermione gasped. "Professor Rain, are you all right?"

She opened her mouth, not sure how to answer, but Dumbledore said smoothly, "There was a minor accident with a potion. We are awaiting Professor Snape."

"Oh, I didn't know you're good at Potions, too, Professor."

Rain found her voice. "I'm not. Hence the explosion." Oh dear. She sounded as dry as Minerva--well, Min had been more of an influence on her than her own mother.

Hermione giggled. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, Hermione."

Madam Pomfrey came back then, and had a hurried conversation with Hermione, Ron, and Harry--who had been silent until then--and ejected the two uninjured parties. She could be heard ordering Ron to drink a potion and lie still. Soon after, Dumbledore took his leave of Rain, promising she would be informed when Severus returned. Rain fidgeted in her bed, unable to get comfortable and unable to do anything to relieve her boredom.

She wondered where Severus was. Dumbledore's reticence about his absence would seem to indicate that he was off being a spy. She worried about him; she knew his work was vital to their cause, and knew he would bitterly resent her being worried, but she had an idea that Voldemort would reserve a special torment for those who betrayed him. She sighed.

"Er, Professor?" said an awkward male voice.

"Ron?" she guessed.

"Yes, ma'am. Erm, I wonder if--" He paused. Keep talking, she willed, push off this blankness for a space.

"Go on," she prompted, when the silence lengthened.

"Well, erm...I wondered if...do you like Quidditch?"

She grinned suddenly, ignoring the pain of it. "Of course! My team's the Cannons. You've no idea how awful I look in their colours!"

"Not you, ma'am!" he exclaimed, his awkwardness forgotten. "'Course, Hermione says redheads do look hideous in orange--not that it matters. Did you see the last match against Puddlemere United? What a massacre!"

"I thought the Daily Prophet write-up didn't do it justice," she said. "From my seats, Puddlemere looked like they had to work for their goals. It was just because their seeker was showing off that it looked like such an easy victory."

"You were there?" He sounded awed. "That's brilliant!"

"I have season passes," she explained. "One of the luxuries I allow myself."

"Wish I could afford them," he said. "Only I'm saving up for a better broom."

"Yes, I thought Hermione had mentioned that you play. What position?"

"Keeper. I'm not very good yet, though. My broom's too old, for one thing."

"I'm sure you play well," she said. "How many seasons have you played?"

"This is my first. Oliver Wood just left school, only there wasn't a Quidditch season here last year, because of the Triwizard Tournament."

"The Oliver Wood who was picked up by Puddlemere United?"

"Same one," Ron confirmed. "I knew him. He was a bit of a maniac, if you ask me. Nearly got Harry killed a time or two. He's a bloody brilliant keeper. But Angelina's an easier captain, Fred and George say. 'Course, Fred's dating her, so I reckon he might be biased."

Rain laughed. "I was hopeless at Quidditch myself," she offered. "I can tell a Wronski Feint from a Hawkshead Attack Formation, but I couldn't do either one to save my life. Probably kill myself just in the attempt."

Ron laughed. "Hermione calls it a 'Wonky Feint,'" he said. "But she likes Quidditch well enough. She's a lot like you, though."

The door opened again and Rain held her breath, hoping it was Severus. Instead, Ron spoke rudely.

"What are you doing here?"

"Temper, temper, Weasley," said a drawling voice. "I might ask you the same thing. Can your parents really afford to have you in hospital with Quidditch injuries? I would've thought they'd need another able-heh-bodied worker."

Ron made a choked noise which sounded like barely-suppressed rage. Rain pressed her lips together. "What do you need, Draco?" she asked calmly.

There was a strange silence. Then she heard hesitant footsteps approaching her. "You look hideous, Professor." His voice sounded strange--languid as ever, yet as if some reaction were being concealed.

Rain forced a small smile. "Thank you, Draco. Are you hurt? Why are you here?"

"My father--I came to see--" He broke off, and she felt uncertainty radiating off of him. "None of your business!" he snarled, and his footsteps stalked away. A moment later the door slammed.

"Wow! I wish I knew how you do that!" Ron exclaimed. "It drives him barking mad!"

Rain sighed. She was suddenly exhausted. Summoned by the slamming door, Madam Pomfrey bustled back into the room.

"All right, dear," she said to Ron. "Take it slowly on your way back to Gryffindor Tower, and mind you watch more closely for Bludgers next time."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said. "Professor Rain, I hope you feel better soon!" With that, he clattered out of the infirmary.

Soft footsteps approached Rain's bed. "The headmaster suggested I give you a tisane to help you sleep," Madam Pomfrey said. "Severus may not be back tonight."

Rain nodded and felt her fingers being curled around a heavy ceramic mug. She held it gently to her lips and tasted chamomile and peppermint, mixed with blood from her cracked lips. Her last waking thought was a hope she and Remus could forgive each other.

~*~

Lies. How many lies? Remus paced the bounds of his office, fuming. He had trusted her, had given her something so precious it frightened him, and she had trampled it underfoot like so much offal! He jumped when a knock sounded at his door. Standing still and listening, he hoped that whomever it was would just--

The knock came again. Remus growled under his breath and strode to answer it.

Albus Dumbledore stood before him, in a brocade dressing gown with matching slippers and cap. Remus turned away wordlessly and walked back into the room, leaving the door open. Grow up, he told himself. This isn't his fault.

The hell it isn't. Albus had to have known about the lamia. He folded his arms over his chest and waited, back to the door.

"Is it fair of you to condemn her as a monster, Remus?" the headmaster asked softly. It wasn't the question Remus had been expecting. He half turned.

"What?" Dumbledore said nothing. Remus scowled down at his desk. "That isn't it at all. I didn't say she was a monster! Look at me," he added bitterly. "I'm not the person to call anyone a monster."

"Indeed."

"She kept it from me, Albus. How can I trust her when all my life she's been keeping secrets from me?"

"How did Rain learn of your lycanthropy?"

Ouch. "She and Lily worked it out. But we were just children! I would have told her! I--"

"When?" Albus interrupted. "When she had seen all other chances for a family pass her by, would you then have told her of your self-imposed vow of loneliness?"

"That's not fair," Remus found himself protesting. He blushed. He sounded thirty years younger than he actually was.

To his surprise, Albus chuckled. 'Thank goodness the world is run by Remus Lupin. He is going to make it a fair place to live."

Remus bit his lip. He deserved that. "She lied to me once about the Slytherins in her family," he said half-heartedly.

"And I will say again, as I said to her earlier this evening, as I said to her mother before her, and as I seem to remember saying on more than one occasion to a certain young werewolf I know: Our blood does not determine who or what we are." Albus put a hand on Remus' shoulder. "She learned of her lamia ancestry after you had gone your separate ways. She would have told you, given time. You should not hold it against her."

Remus turned away, clenching his teeth. "I thought we had moved past not trusting one another," he said stubbornly. "I thought we were--I thought she--" He broke off and laughed hollowly. "I thought foolishly."

Dumbledore was silent as Remus paced to the wall. When he swung around to pace back, he saw that the headmaster had settled himself into a chair, his hands folded complacently, a somber expression on his face. Irrationally, it fanned Remus' anger. He scowled again.

"Headmaster, you can't expect me to greet this sort of news with jubilation," he said, wishing, oddly, that he sounded more like Severus Snape and less like a sulky Draco Malfoy. He was skilled at angst; it was caustic he had trouble with.

Dumbledore met his gaze, reproach patent in his crystalline eyes. Suddenly it seemed far too much effort to stay angry, and Remus sat down, feeling rather sorry for himself. "She didn't make any effort to find me," he said, thinking back to those long lonely years. "I wanted to go to her. I knew I had to protect her, but I wanted to go to her. I wanted her to look for me." He sighed. "I think I even wanted her to find me, and sod the consequences." The headmaster still said nothing, and Remus put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "More the fool I, I would have let her throw everything away, if she'd come looking for me." He huffed bitterly. "Except, of course, that she didn't."

Dumbledore sighed. "Please do not ask me to feel sorry for you," he said, his tone less amiable than usual. "You did not have to leave her, Remus. You were not the only reason she was in danger, and you certainly were not the only protection she had."

Stung, Remus opened his mouth to retort, but Dumbledore shook his head. His blue eyes smiled at him. "Look deeper, Remus. I believe you are angry because tonight you feared you might lose her."

Remus stared at him. After a moment he shut his mouth; he knew there was something he should say, but he couldn't for the life of him think what it might be. He blinked.

Dumbledore began to laugh. "Remus, your face is a study. Come now, you must see you are behaving rather foolishly." He sobered slightly, though his blue eyes still held a telltale twinkle. "Life is hard. Pain comes to everyone. And there are some things that must be, in order for others to come about. Your suffering, and Rain's, has made you both stronger people. It has given you both resolve. Do not be so eager to give up what is at last coming within your grasp again."

Remus felt shame welling up around the confusion. He had a right to be angry, yes--someone had tried to kill Rain!--but the headmaster was right; he should never have taken it out on Rain. So she had missed opportunities to tell him; he'd passed by a few of those while he debated about telling her he was a werewolf. And besides, she was right. He had left her once. How was she to know he wouldn't do it again? Good lord, after the way he'd treated her, he practically deserved to be lied to!

"No, Remus."

"No?" He looked up. Dumbledore was smiling at him.

"I won't let you do that spiral into guilt, either. If you continue to believe yourself unworthy of love, you will begin to act unworthily. You are man enough to own up to your mistakes, and she is woman enough to forgive you." His hand gripped Remus' shoulder more tightly. "Right now, you must help me protect her. To Severus will fall the task of learning who did this."

~*~

Severus wanted nothing more than sleep when he returned to Hogwarts from Kent. His head ached and he was heartsick at the night's work.

Lagrimas, a little wizarding village in Kent, was home to a famous magical researcher by the name of Prasanna Patil--no relation, that he knew of, to his students Padma and Parvati. Prasanna and her Muggle husband had not been home when the Death Eaters converged on their home. The Death Eaters, at Voldemort's command, had ensured they would not have a home to which to return.

At least there had been no killing this time. He had been afraid one or both of them would be home. So far he hadn't been ordered to kill anyone with his own wand--this time around--but even standing by and watching as others did the work, left him disgusted and longing for a shower.

But how could your soul have a shower?

He shivered involuntarily as he entered the castle and directed his steps to his dungeon quarters. A good portion of his disgust was aimed at himself; only fifteen years earlier he had stood by and approved what the Death Eaters had done, making havoc of those who opposed Voldemort, entering every house, dragging off men and women, committing them to torture. Yes, there was still much to atone for, and even the work he did for Dumbledore could not erase the stain of those sins--not when his hands were tied and he was forced to look on in impotence while undeserving people were brutally tortured and killed.

When he reached the slight solace of his rooms, he had a terse message from Dumbledore: Rain is in the infirmary. Come quickly.

He cursed and left his rooms, taking long strides towards the hospital wing. The Potions Master had been summoned; did that mean her treatments had failed somehow? Impossible. But what else could it be?

To his surprise, Draco Malfoy was lingering in the passage outside the Slytherin dungeon. Severus flashed him a withering glare. "Go to bed, Malfoy," he snapped. The boy shot him a look that in any other child might have been hurt, and withdrew into the dungeon. Snape wished there were someone less important about so he could really lash out--someone like Crabbe or Bulstrode, who had no potentially redeeming qualities.

When he reached the hospital wing, there was a single lamp burning just inside the door. He imagined it had been left for him; the message from Dumbledore was apparently several hours old by now. He moved stealthily along the row of empty beds until he found the one sheltering Rain. He would have passed her, had he not recognized the dark pool of curls around her head. White gauze, which was wrapped around her eyes, shone faintly in the flickering light. Above and below the gauze, her skin was raw and blistered, leaving him no illusions about the condition of her eyes. One hand, resting on the pillow by her head, was swathed in bandages up to the elbow.

Severus thought of Draco Malfoy lingering in the shadows, and decided he would have a little chat with him later. He unclenched his teeth carefully. In the meantime, there was Rain.

He didn't want to wake her, but he needed to examine her eyes. A potion of regeneration would require salamander blood; since this was obviously burn-related, tears of phoenix would also be necessary. Considering Rain's condition, he had a feeling someone had been feeling clever and used the Solarus Tormente curse. He cursed himself for confirming Lucius' suspicions on that matter.

Severus stood for several moments and watched her sleep. There had been few intimate moments such as this in his life. She looked so tired, even asleep. The lines around her mouth were faint, but he could see them. He wondered what her life had been like as Lady of Clan McGonagall. He could have kept in contact with her after school, of course, even though they had taken different paths; their families had been connected since her father and his had been at Hogwarts together. He knew of her struggles with the lamia bloodlust and alcohol, and he wondered if her life could somehow have been as much a hell as his.

Pressing his lips together, he put out a hand to grasp her shoulder, firmly yet gently. She awoke with a swift intake of breath, then took several even quicker breaths, inspired by what he knew to be fear.

"Katraina," he said, catching her questing hand in one of his. "You are in the infirmary."

She sat up. "Remus?" she said, her voice small.

Severus felt his face twist in a grimace. "Not exactly," he said, trying unsuccessfully to not sound bitter. "Though doubtless you wish I were."

"No. No, Severus, I'm glad you're here." She sounded it, too, damn her. Why did she have to be so sincere in her friendliness towards him?

"Are you in much pain?" he asked, his voice harsher than he had intended.

"Well, yes. I rather wish my head would fall off."

He felt himself oddly moved by pity. It was an unusual sensation. "I will help you," he said, and was rewarded by a smile that made her lip crack and dribble blood down her chin. He caught his breath, extended his finger to wipe away the blood.

At the contact she flinched, but quickly moved to let him touch her. As he caught the droplet of blood and ran his finger gently up to her lip, he was very conscious of their physical proximity. His breath shuddered into his lungs. Rain, Rain, who always had tenderness for him--he wished he had the courage to place his lips where his finger was.

Then she hissed slightly in pain, and the spell was broken. He scowled and clenched his teeth. "This is unforgivable," he snarled. She opened her mouth, but he said, "I have to look at your eyes."

She closed her mouth and nodded, leaning forward. He reached behind her head and unfastened the gauze. When he saw her swollen eyelids and loden-coloured eyes, reddened, blistered, and staring blankly, he felt his own eyes smart in sympathy. He clenched his teeth and said nothing until Rain said his name in a small, frightened voice.

"It's going to be alright, Katraina," he said with a rough sort of tenderness. "I can have a potion ready by tomorrow evening. Poppy usually allows me the use of her cauldron here."

"Then you'll stay and keep me company?" she asked, her voice aching with eagerness. She reached out a hand in entreaty.

Damn her. "I'm no fit company for a lady tonight," he said.

"Then it's lucky you only have to be fit company for a friend. Start your potion and then tell me what's troubling you."

You are among those troubles. But he sighed and nodded. "Yes," he said. "I'll be back." He touched her hand, pushing it gently away from him, and walked away.

~*~

A/N: Right. Again, I'm sorry for the horribly long delay. Real Life took on a nightmarish busy-ness, and I also became re-inspired on my original novel. I hope this chapter is long enough to partly make up for some of the delay. I hope the next chapter isn't as long in coming, but I can make no promises.