The Harpsichordist

The pull from above was stronger than ever, and Luke was no longer able to ignore it.

Come.

"Wendy," said Luke, putting his arms on her shoulders and holding her out in front of him, "I don't think I have long."

Wendy sniffed and wiped her eyes. "What happened?" she said thickly. Her hands reached out to take both of his.

"I was hit with a Killing Curse while in Azkaban with Tonks," Luke said.

She nodded. "Yes, Tonks told us."

"She fought her way free, and when she brought my body along, I had to follow. I'm not sure why."

"Huh. And then?"

"Then, when I first got here, I discovered I wasn't a ghost. Sir Nicholas couldn't see me or hear me -- I don't know why."

Wendy pulled back and looked curiously at him. "But why didn't you die?"

"I dunno. I'm a Muggle."

"But you're a musician," she ventured. "Albus --" Her voice broke, "-- said that there was magic in the music... maybe there's magic in musicians, too?"

"Maybe. I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"I guess not," Wendy said, shrugging. "But -- just now? What happened? How did you send the dementors away?"

Luke told her, speaking first of watching the concert and seeing the blue shimmery stuff; then he told her of his growing dread as the Death Eaters approached. And then he told her how he had watched, helplessly, as Rigel was hit with the Killing Curse.

"And then it was as though all the blue stuff suddenly... activated," he said. "When Rigel was hit, these beams of blue light shot out of him and connected with the walls of the castle, and then the shimmery stuff became even brighter.

"And when the Death Eaters started shooting curses at people, the blue stuff would form this barrier around them, and the curse...well, it didn't miss," he said slowly, trying to be accurate, "but it -- it dissipated. Only part of the curse actually hit them."

"So that's why there aren't so many casualties," said Wendy thoughtfully, looking around the hall at the crowd. "I would have thought -- Wizards with wands up against Muggles..." A small shudder passed through her.

"I guess," Luke replied.

"And the dementors?" she prompted. "I only saw the effect they had -- Severus told me they were there."

Luke ignored the intimacy in her tone and continued, "I could see them, these big black holes in space. When I went into the entrance hall to find out more, Voldemort somehow knew I was there."

"I know," Wendy said. "I heard him talking to you."

"I saw you on the balcony next to Severus," said Luke.

Between them floated the question, "And what were you doing with him?", but they both ignored it.

Luke went on, "And then, when Voldemort killed Albus, I was so angry that I swooped through him, like a ghost -- that's one of the few things I could do, you know --"

Wendy's mouth fell open. "That was you!" she exclaimed. "It was you, in the practice rooms, in the corridors, when I thought I felt you -- when I was practicing, you were talking to me! You really were there, I wasn't imagining it!"

Luke was filled with immense happiness to know that. "Yes," he said with a little laugh. "Yeah, that was me."

"But go on!"

"Right -- I swooped through Voldemort, and then -- and this has never happened before -- I was inside his head."

Wendy opened her mouth in horror. "You were inside his head?"

"Yeah. Seriously twisted. I tried to distract him while he duelled with Harry, but it didn't really work so well. Then, he sort of...exorcised me as he tried to kill Harry, and I was sent out through his wand. Next thing I knew, I was inside Harry's head, but it wasn't quite his head, it was his heart."

Wendy made a skeptical noise.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "But that's what it was. There were all these emotions around me, all this hope."

"Severus told me that the only way to fight off dementors is with a Patronus, this kind of shield made from good feelings."

Luke nodded. "Yeah. And so when Harry made his Patronus, I was part of it."

"And then you were in the air, visible, and you had us sing."

He nodded again. "And you know the rest, mostly. Did you see any of the blue stuff?"

Wendy shook her head. "No. All I could see was you waving your arms in the air, and the dementors backing off from people. It was incredible," she added.

"I was wafting the blue stuff towards the dementors, that's what that was," he explained.

There was a moment of silence during which the noises from the hall intruded on their little bubble. Luke felt the tug from above again -- it was getting stronger. Not yet, he pleaded. Please, just a little longer.

Just a little.

"I don't have much more time," Luke said. "I need to take care of Rigel."

Wendy looked at him in confusion. Luke himself was startled -- he hadn't known he was going to say that until the words came out of his mouth.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand. Together they made their way towards Rigel, who was now laid out on a cloak on several chairs that had been scavenged from the mess. He was surrounded by Minerva and Filius, who were looking grave.

As Luke threaded his way through the crowd, people began to notice him, turning and gaping, pointing, whispering to each other. Then, after he'd been walking for a few steps, someone began to clap.

The applause spread through the crowd in a huge wave, and soon everyone was standing with their arms in the air, clapping, cheering, whistling. Luke glanced back at Wendy and saw that she was grinning hugely, but with tears on her face. He'd dreamed of such applause, but he'd always thought it would follow a kickass performance, not a battle.

She leaned in and shouted in his ear, her voice breaking, "You're a hero."

Luke gave her a smile and ploughed on through the crowd.

When he reached Minerva and Filius, they were both grinning; Minerva's face was almost unrecognizable through the tears and wide smile, and Flitwick was dancing up and down.

"Merlin," said Minerva, dabbing at her eyes with a very dirty handkerchief. Her hair had fallen out of its usual tight bun and was waving around her face like so many black worms.

"Amazing," squeaked Filius, who had a black eye and a strip of robe wrapped around his right arm. "You'll have to tell me everything you noticed -- this is completely new magic, a new area of research. We'll have to tell Albus --" He broke off, his enthusiasm fizzling.

Minerva blew her nose and brought her expression slightly under control. "Are you here for good, Luke?"

"No, I'm not," he said, and Minerva nodded silently. Luke went on, "I need to see Rigel."

With slightly puzzled expressions, the two professors moved out of the way so that Luke could stand right over Rigel.

The boy's body, which he had not seen clearly from across the hall, still glowed faintly blue. The beams that had connected him to the castle were gone. Luke put a hand to Rigel's forehead, but pulled it away after a second. "Ouch!" He waved his hand to cool it. "It's hot!"

Minerva looked at him sharply. "He has a fever. Poppy saw him a moment ago and thought it was just shock. Clearly, though --"

Luke was shaking his head. "It's not just shock. Can't you see the glow?"

"What glow?" asked Filius and Minerva at once.

"He's glowing blue, can't you see it?"

"No."

The crowd behind them began whispering.

"What does he mean?" "I don't see anything... " "Who is he, anyway?" "That music teacher that was killed, remember?" "I thought he was a Muggle!" "So did I!"

"Luke," said Wendy, "look at your hands!"

Luke looked. The tips of his fingers were no longer gold, but blue.

"You can see the blue?"

"Yes! What is it?"

"I don't know." Luke turned his hands over, examining them. He pressed his fingertips together, and then had to pull them apart rather forcefully, because they stuck together like magnets. "I wonder..."

He moved around so that he was standing over Rigel's head, then slowly moved his fingers towards the boy's forehead. About half an inch from the skin, he felt a jolt as his fingers clamped of their own volition against Rigel's forehead.

The first thing he noticed was that Rigel's forehead felt like fire -- it hurt, but through the pain he felt a connection building somewhere around his navel.

"Something's happening," he said, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"What?" asked Filius.

"I'm not sure, it --" His surroundings gave an almighty jerk.

The last thing Luke heard was Wendy's exclamation of "Oh!" before everything went black.

Rigel saw only darkness. Just darkness, inky, shadowy, murky darkness. He heard his heartbeat in the distance, but it gave him no sense of time. Was it slow or fast? How quickly was he thinking? He couldn't tell.

But it didn't matter -- nor did it matter that he had no idea how he had gotten wherever he was. He was content to drift through the blackness, existing peacefully in solitude.

Then there appeared in the distance -- or was it distance? -- a faint glow, a pulsating redness that was out of sync with the heartbeat. He watched placidly as the glow became stronger and brighter, turning from a point like a faulty wand to a flickering light that made gently curving shapes on the blackness.

Then he heard a name. "Rigel?"

Who was Rigel?

"Rigel? It's Luke. Come back. Come on, you can do it."

Rigel...Rigel... Oh, right, that was his name. People said that, and he thought of himself. Rigel, clean up your room! That was his mother's voice -- his foster-mother's voice. His mother was not who had raised him. His mother was a trained killer kept locked in the Hogwarts dungeons, but he had set her free, simply by being himself...

Rigel's identity -- his past, his present, his dreams, hopes and wishes -- everything that was Rigel crashed into him all at once and he gasped.

"That's it, Rigel. Come on. Let go of it."

Let go of what?

"You're holding onto all the excess power from the fight --"

Right. Lucius Malfoy had sent an Avada Kedavra at him, and Rigel had then fallen into the blackness.

"-- and you need to let go of it. I'll take it."

But why wasn't he dead? There was no countercurse for Avada Kedavra, everyone knew that. Harry Potter was the only person ever to have survived the curse, and even then no one knew how, and some people wondered if You-Know-Who had actually tried to use the Killing Curse. No one had been there except Harry and You-Know-Who, so how could they be so certain --?

"Come on, Rigel, it's okay. Just let go of it."

Rigel then became aware of an immense weight on his chest -- he had a chest, he had lungs. He had a body. Oh! A body, and a body that hurt. Legs, arms, head, neck. Eyes. He had eyes, and they were shut very tightly against the brightness outside. That was why everything was black and red, because when you closed your eyes against bright light, you saw red.

Rigel shut his eyes tighter and tried to burrow back into the darkness. He didn't want to face the outside world, not if there had been a huge fight after he'd been killed. Dumbledore had told him that it was okay -- Dumbledore had looked at him and shaken his head, and he'd known that the right thing to do would be to follow his beliefs. Had people died? If they had, then it would be his fault, Rigel's fault...

"He's reluctant." That was Luke's voice. Professor Luke, who had been kidnapped by Death Eaters with Professor Tonks, and then Tonks had brought Luke's body back and Professor Wendy had sent it off to a university for what the Muggles called "science."

"Rigel, come on." The voice was now a little irritated, and Rigel, intent on finding the blackness again, suddenly found his way blocked by an image of Luke.

"Hi," said Luke. "It's okay -- you can let go of it."

Rigel looked down at his hands -- how had he got hands, inside his body? The outside had disappeared again, and he was just an image of himself -- and in his hands was a ball of blue fire, about ten inches across. It was warm, ever so warm.

"I'll keep it, thanks," Rigel replied.

"Don't you want to wake up?"

"Not if people have died."

"A few people have died, yes," Luke looked sad. "But not everyone who was hit with a curse. You, for one. You're not dead."

"Aren't I?"

"No -- that's what I'm doing here."

"Oh. Aren't you dead? I thought you died."

"I did -- but not really -- I'm not sure. But I'm here." Luke shrugged. Then he gestured to Rigel's hands. "Come on, let go of it."

Rigel thought. On the one hand, he had this precious ball of fire, and peace and quiet. No guilt. On the other hand, the outside world was waiting for him. His parents -- his real parents, not the freaks who had donated sperm and egg -- were waiting for him. They were in the crowd, weren't they?

"Are my parents alive?" Rigel asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know -- I never met them."

"Are you a ghost, then?"

"Not really, no. I was a spirit of sorts, and then during the fight I became Harry's Patronus."

"There were dementors?"

"Yes, there were dementors."

"Did anyone get Kissed?"

"No. No one got Kissed."

"But people died."

"Yes, from getting trampled and crushed. Not from magic."

"Why not?"

"You, I think."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You activated the magic. Come on, Rigel, come outside and everyone will explain it to you."

Rigel weighed the two sides, thinking hard. He liked peace and quiet, and for all he knew, if he stayed here long enough, he'd just drift off into oblvion. But there were people out there, and --

"Okay."

Luke smiled at him. "Then you need to let go of that." He pointed to the ball in Rigel's hands.

Rigel tried to open his hands and let it fall out, but it stuck to his hands.

"I think it's stuck," he said. "Here, you take it." And he held out his hands towards Luke.

Luke, he now saw, was completely golden, except for the tips of his fingers, which were blue.

"Go on, take it." He gestured with the ball, and as he pushed it away from himself, he felt it come free from his hands --

-- and then he could open his eyes, and he was looking up into Professor McGonagall's face.

"Rigel!" she exclaimed thickly. "I can't tell you how happy we are to see you."

---

Luke reeled as the ball of blue fire flew from Rigel's hands into his own. He was thrown free of the boy's forehead, and staggered backwards into the hall, clutching at nothing -- there was no ball, there was no fire.

"Rigel!" exclaimed Minerva, looking down into Rigel's face. "I can't tell you how happy we are to see you."

"Hello," said Rigel hoarsely. He tried to sit up, but Minerva pushed him back down.

"You just wait until Poppy gets here, young man." Minerva turned to Luke. "What did you do?"

"I think," said Luke, "that I just took all the excess magic from him."

"What do you mean?"

It was Filius who answered. "The music!" he exclaimed excitedly. "All the music in the hall created a magical field, didn't it, Luke? And because Albus wasn't inside the hall, he wasn't... well."

Luke nodded, aware more than ever of the pull above. And there was a new sensation, as though the fire that he had absorbed was eating him away from the inside. It wasn't painful, but it gnawed at him and he wanted it to stop.

"I'm guessing that when Rigel was hit with the Killing Curse that he absorbed it instead of having it act upon him, which caused a chain reaction in the magical field --"

Luke let Filius blabber on, turning to Wendy, who was staring at him.

"It's time, isn't it?" she asked. She wasn't crying.

He nodded, and the two of them pulled to the side, slightly out of the spotlight. The crowd had turned their attention back to themselves; Luke could hear whispers, too, of, "Dumbledore's dead!" "He's dead?" "Yes! That's what she said--" "But he was the only one You-Know-Who ever feared... What'll happen now?"

"It's getting impossible for me to hold on," Luke said.

"I wish you could stay," Wendy said helplessly.

"So do I," he said.

"I wish --" she began, sounding extremely nervous, "I wish I had the courage to -- to come with you."

"Don't say that!" he said sharply. "You've got to keep going, you've just got to. You've got a whole life ahead of you -- you're only twenty-five. Please, please promise me that won't -- that you'll go on living."

"I will, of course I will. I'm -- I'm too afraid, that's what hurts, I just -- I wish I could be with you," she pleaded desperately.

"You can't." The blunt words fell out of his mouth and hung in the air between them.

Wendy flinched and closed her eyes briefly. "I know." She opened her eyes and shook her head. "But that doesn't stop me wanting."

Luke looked at her face, at her beautiful face that was covered in grime and filth, and at her pretty clothes all torn. She had several scratches on her face and a set of bruises beginning around her neck from where Lucius had tried to strangle her earlier. Luke reached out a hand and touched them.

"You're bruising," he commented.

She winced slightly at the touch, and brought her hand up to cover his. "I'll be fine."

They stared at each other, Luke's hand resting against her jawline, the skin smooth under his hands, despite the dirt. Wendy leaned into the touch, not breaking eye contact. Her mouth was open slightly, and he could see her two front teeth through the lips.

Luke brought his face closer to hers; her eyes relaxed their wide-eyed gaze and she smiled slightly, recognizing the gesture. He leaned steadily towards her, then pressed his lips against hers.

He thought he might die with pleasure at the sensation of lips upon lips. Wendy whimpered and pressed her body into his; Luke was abruptly filled with intense desire.

"I wish we had time to have sex one last time," he said into her lips.

She giggled slightly.

"What?"

"Your breath smells," she said, looking up at him with open-eyed mischief.

He snorted. "Even in death, I can't clean my teeth enough for you, can I?"

She shook her head, the smile turning upside down even as she laughed. "Oh, God, I don't want to let you go!"

All throughout their conversation, the pull from above had been growing steadily more intense, and now it was almost unbearable.

Now. Come.

"Wendy," Luke said. "Wendy, I can't stay any longer. I love you, always remember that. I love you, I always will, as long as I can -- I don't know what's going to happen now -- and if you're happy with Severus, well, then --"

He had to say it, he had to.

Your time is up. Come.

It was so painful to stay, but he had to tell her, so she could move on. He couldn't leave without letting her go. That wouldn't be fair.

"As long as he makes you happy. That's all that's important. Be happy."

Come.

"Luke --" she began, eyes wide, face full of conflicting hope and despair.

And then he felt his body explode into a million tiny parts. Just as Wendy cried, "I love you," his awareness collapsed, expanded to embrace the entire world, and then Luke knew no more.

As long as he makes you happy.

As Luke's body splintered into a fine golden mist, Wendy closed her eyes against the pain.

Around the hall, people were talking, marvelling at the recovery of Rigel, crying over Albus' death, asking each other questions, helping each other; house-elves were appearing with cracks and pops, bearing trays of juice and crackers. The professors were deep in discussion, figuring out how to manage the rest of the evening. Wendy didn't care about any of it. All she heard was As long as he makes you happy.

And here came Severus. She couldn't face him, she couldn't -- and then he was in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"That is the stupidest thing you have ever said," she said calmly, and turned away from him. She needed to help the other professors.

Severus grabbed her by the arm. "Let go of me!" she demanded.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" She gazed at him in disbelief. "Luke has just -- died, for the second time, I might add, and you ask me --" The sobbing had started again. She was so sick of crying, so sick of being sad and alone.

"Wendy," he said, awkwardly and gently, giving her a little shake, "Wendy, I'm still here for you."

Wendy breathed very hard for a moment, then said raggedly, "I need time, I need space." She looked over to the other teachers. "We should help," she said firmly. Removing her arm from Severus' grip, she walked over to the other teachers.

Minerva had taken charge.

"... will need to find Fudge, wherever he's gotten to, and tell him about Albus," she was saying. "I don't suppose any of you have seen him?"

There were murmurs of negation and shaken heads.

"Well, then," Minerva went on briskly, "we'll manage without him. Hogwarts is not the Ministry, after all. Now, we'll also need to set up Portkeys back. Filius, can you and some seventh-years manage that? I don't think anyone wants to walk home."

As Wendy approached the group, Minerva caught her eye. While Filius was responding, Minerva sent Wendy a questioning look. Wendy shrugged. Minerva then jerked her head sideways, asking if Wendy wanted to speak or have any announcement made. Wendy shook her head vehemently, and Minerva nodded understandingly.

"Right, then," she continued. "Filius, you're in charge of the Portkeys. Qui, do we have a -- a count?" Her voice shook just the slightest.

Quivisianthe Sprout nodded. "Seventeen students," she said. "four Gryffindor, two Ravenclaw, five Hufflepuff, and six from Slytherin. The families know," she added.

"Can you draft a statement for the Prophet?"

"Of course."

"I think the thing to do, then, is to send the parents home, along with the students who wish to go now. The elves can send along luggage as needed. Those students who wish to stay - we cannot accommodate parents; if we allow anyone to stay, they'll all want to -- the students may stay in their own dormitories; we should arrange for sleeping bags if they want to sleep in the Common Rooms. Perhaps Hufflepuff might open up its Common Room for the rest?"

Quivisianthe nodded again. "I'll get some food set up."

"Thank you," said Minerva. "Then in the morning we'll see about repairs, and perhaps find an explanation for what happened."

"I'd like an explanation tonight."

Wendy jumped. Severus had spoken from right behind her, and even worse, everyone had turned to look at him, which meant that she was right in their line of sight. She remained facing the group, as if not looking at him would make his words go away.

Severus then put his hands on her shoulders. Wendy fought the urge reach up to push him off. She didn't want to make a scene, so she let his hands stay there and tried not to notice that everyone's eyes were flickering from Severus' face to hers to his hands.

"Severus, you can't ask her to --" began Minerva.

"What did happen?" asked Calcula Vector, staring at Wendy's face intently. "Apologies for tactlessness, but I thought Luke had died?"

All of Wendy's energy and stamina suddenly left her. "So had I," she said listlessly. She was too tired to cry. "Please, I don't want to do this tonight."

Scene be damned, she thought as Calcula opened her mouth to protest. Wendy pushed Severus' hands off her shoulders. "I'm going to bed," she said. "I'm sorry if I seem rude or unhelpful, but I can't stay here."

She wheeled around, pushed past Severus, and walked through the Great Hall, leaving behind the whispering group of teachers, Severus' startled expression, and the crowd. As she reached the doors, she heard Minerva speaking to the crowd:

"Your attention, please! All guests need to return to their homes; we have a team here to assist with Portkey production -- your children may accompany you if they..."

Wendy walked through the crowd, past the bound Death Eaters, and over the rubble of the doors. But when she passed into the entrance hall, she found her feet level with Albus Dumbledore's body. Kneeling next to him was Harry Potter, head in hands, rocking back and forth.

She could just sneak past him; he wouldn't notice her. Wendy hesitated, then spoke uncomfortably.

"Hey."

Harry looked around and up. "Oh -- hi," he said. His face was wet. He unselfconsciously wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Wendy paused a little awkwardly. "Was he like a father to you?" she asked.

Harry looked at her, tilting his head to one side slightly, to all appearances trying to figure out if she was serious.

"Not really, no," he finally said. "I hated him last year for never looking me in the eye."

"That could get annoying."

"Yeah. He thought Voldemort would try to possess me."

"And did he?"

"In a way, yeah."

"But you're sad that he's gone."

"Yeah. We depended on him, you know?" Harry finally got to his feet, giving the corpse one last look before conjuring a sheet to cover it. "All of us fighting against Voldemort -- we needed him to keep us together. It's going to be harder to fight without him."

"Mm-hm," said Wendy, nodding.

"What happened to Luke?" Harry asked, walking past her to peer into the Great Hall. "Where is he?"

"He -- he went back."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked back at her, startled.

"He wasn't really dead in the first place," Wendy explained tiredly, "and then when Voldemort killed Albus, he -- Luke, I mean -- managed to get inside his head and --" She broke off, taking a deep breath.

"It's okay," Harry said, waving a hand. "You don't have to tell me now; you're probably dead tired."

"I am," agreed Wendy. "I want to take a bath and go to bed."

"Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?" Harry blushed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, that must sound --"

Wendy laughed, surprising herself. "No, it's okay. I know what you mean. I think I'll have Winky keep me company."

"Oh," said Harry, his face still a little pink. "Okay then. Goodnight."

He vanished into the Great Hall, most likely in search of his friends, and Wendy made her way slowly up the marble staircase.

Looking around at the bright whiteness, she noticed here and there drops of blood. Probably from me running earlier, she realized. When I ran from the hall, and ran into Severus further along the corridor...

Her focus narrowed so that all she could see were the red droplets against the white marble. The top of the stairway seemed light-years away. Each step took her an age to climb: her legs were heavy, her body tired, and all she wanted to do was sink into Luke's arms and cry for missing him.

The top of the stairs slowly got closer. He was really gone now. He was really, truly gone now. There were no more miracles to come. He wouldn't come back. (Six more steps to climb.)

She had run these steps not an hour ago, run from her first murder. She'd killed a man. She'd killed a man, a human being with a wife and a son. A person who'd tried to kill her before, too, but he was still just a man. (Five steps left.)

What about all those people who had died? Seventeen students were dead. Out of three hundred students, seventeen had died. For a massacre, that was a small death toll, but it was more people dead, more children, more parents who had to accept those horrible words, My child (four steps) is dead. Her boyfriend was dead. He was really truly dead. He would not suddenly appear at the top of the steps, smiling, ready to kiss her and take her to bed (three left).

She was so horny, and it felt totally wrong to be having those feelings when Luke -- her breath caught -- was dead and she should be mourning but all she wanted to do was get laid and she knew Severus would do anything for her but she wanted Luke, not Severus (two more) but Severus was there for her, he would do anything for her, he loved her (one more step to go, just one) but if she went to Severus, would she ever go home again? But she had no home...

"Wendy!"

And there he was again. Wendy sagged, hanging onto the banister for support. If she let go she would fall.

She could let go. She could fall down the steps, she could fall for Severus, she could fall into the gathering blackness.

There were footsteps up the stairs behind her. She needed to run away, escape from him, because if she spoke she would cry, and she was tired of crying, she was so tired (just one more step!) but her feet wouldn't move, and the footsteps got louder and louder, and then Severus was right behind her.

"Here, let me help you."

"I don't want your help," she tried to say, but the words didn't come out.

Severus hooked one arm under her shoulders, then reached around and put his other arm under her knees. Next thing she knew, she was being carried along the corridors, the paintings making comments that didn't reach her brain.

"Let me down," she mumbled.

"I'm not going to leave you alone. You shouldn't be alone."

"I don't need you," she protested, and pushed weakly against his chest. But she couldn't get free, and she didn't have the energy to struggle.

In a few minutes, they were inside her rooms; soon they were in her bedroom, and then Severus was laying her out on the double bed.

"Shall I start you a bath?"

"Go away," she moaned.

"No," he said stubbornly. "Should I start the bath?"

"No. Go away."

Severus sat down on the bed next to her knees and placed a hand on them.

She flinched. "Please don't touch me."

He didn't remove his hand. "Look," he said, very serious. "I know you've just lost Luke -- again -- and I know this is difficult. Please, let me be here for you. It's the least I can do."

Wendy didn't want to face the world, but it was intruding on her nonetheless. Wouldn't it just be easier to accept his offer of company? To give in, to let him take care of her? He wasn't Luke, but she'd never get Luke again...

And now Severus was reaching for the waistband of her pants, to help her undress.

"Please," he said. "Please let me do this for you." He leaned over, his face very close to hers, and made eye contact. "I love you," he whispered.

He was right there, waiting to catch her -- all she had to do was fall.

She closed her eyes and nodded.