Divined Intervention

"Thanks for taking me out, you two. I really needed to get out of the castle, I think." Maggie smiled over her mug of butterbeer a little nervously.

Delphine bobbed her head cheerfully, sending a shower of topsoil onto the table and earning her a tired look from Madam Rosmerta. "Of course, dear. You're new in townÂ…new to the continent! It's only hospitable to get you out and about, show you the sights."

"Such as they areÂ… c'mon, DellyÂ…we should get her to a Quidditch matchÂ…where's your sense of adventure?" Elvira elbowed the shorter woman and winked a gold eye at Maggie. "Pint of ale, bag of crisps, a few ruddy good shouts at English National's prig of a SeekerÂ…what say?"

"Really, ViÂ… I hardly think brawling in the stands with a rowdy bunch of frothing fans is what I'd want Maggie to take away from her stay here." Delphine sipped her birch beer, rolling her eyes. Elvira patted her on the back, echoing the roll and shaking her head. Maggie watched them, grinning into her mug. Elvira's hand seemed to linger a few moments longerÂ… nah, couldn't be. "Why not start with Hogsmeade? There's all sorts of things to see around hereÂ… the gardens about town, the sweet shopÂ…"

"And Zonko'sÂ…" Elvira smiled fondly, eyes going distant. "Ah, the fun I used to have as a girl in that shopÂ…"

Delphine gave her a sour look. "You hoodlum. I remember you filling my socks with Frog-Hop Powder in sixth year. Took the groundskeeper, Professor Dumbledore, and two other professors to get me down from that chandelier!"

Maggie choked on her butterbeer as Elvira rubbed her freshly-booted shin and tried to look contrite over a Cheshire grin.

"So," Delphine said with a dark look at Elvira that turned to a rather mischievous grin. "How are your studies coming along?"

Maggie's face dropped, poorly masked by her mug. Delphine patted her arm consolingly. "Sorry, didn't mean to cast a damper on things. You know Vi and I are always happy to help. We went through this too, you know." Her smile was infectious, and Maggie couldnÂ’t help but return it.

"Thanks," she sighed. "It's justÂ… so much. Everything's so different here. Not just the studiesÂ… I mean, they're about as different as you can get, don't get me wrong. ButÂ… everything. I mean, god. I justÂ… Everyone's soÂ…proper here. I feel like a total high-strung goober. I don't even know what half the things we've been served at the school areÂ… bangers and mash, kidney pie, bubble and squeakÂ… y'know? I'm used to burgers and fries, pizzaÂ… American food." She laughed self-consciously, looking across the table wearily, then leaned forward and dropped her voice. "Then there's all the wizard stuff on top of it. I'm a hopeless Muggle."

Elvira twirled the umbrella in her drink. "What do you miss most?" she asked, uncharacteristically sober.

Maggie closed her eyes. "My best friend. And my music." She opened them, sniffling a bit. "I've been so damned lonelyÂ… which you guys are helping immensely," she added with a grin. "But the musicÂ… god, I tried listening to the radio in the teacher's lounge, and don't get me wrongÂ…there are some talented witches and wizards out thereÂ…but I miss my industrial."

"Your what?" Delphine looked at Elvira quizzically. She shrugged back, and both cocked their heads at Maggie.

"It's hard to describe, really. I used to read tarot at a gothic industrial club called Deux Ex Machina. The music isÂ…loud, with a very strong beat." She drummed her knuckles and hummed a bass line. "The industrial stuff sounds like machineryÂ… lots of very harsh noises. It sounds better than I'm making it out to." She raised her hands in a palms-up gesture of futility. "The gothic stuff is smoother, more flowingÂ…good to bellydance to." Elvira perked up, then winced a little, rubbing her ribs. Maggie blushed, trying to pretend not to notice. Ok, maybe they are. She covered the blush by humming a few bars of an old Peter Murphy tune. The witches nodded a little, albeit rather politely. "Wish I could play you some, but my CD player doesn't seem to like Hogwarts much."

"A seedy player?" Delphine looked intrigued. "What kind of seeds does it play?"

Maggie groaned softly. "CDÂ…Compact Disk. They're little shiny disks that hold information on themÂ… kind of like a scroll, butÂ…well, not. It's a Muggle thing, I guess."

"Ah. That'd explain it. Muggle devices won't work on Hogwarts groundsÂ… there's enchantments to stop them."

Maggie looked utterly crestfallen. "Oh."

Elvira flashed Delphine a look that Maggie couldn't quite read, but apparently a decision was made that she never heard. Before she could ask, Elvira chugged down the last of her drink and stood up.

"Come on then, ladies! We have trouble to get into."

**********

"My name is Maggie Carter." The bluejay feather skittered across the parchment, scrawling the words in a stunning midnight-blue imitation of her own handwriting. "And you are my new personal secretaryÂ… rock ON!" And you are my new personal secra It paused, scratched out the misspelling as she glared at it, then continued secretaryÂ…rock ON!!!

"OhÂ…myÂ…godÂ… you two are amazing! Thank you!" Maggie pounced on Delphine and Elvira, giving each an enthusiastic hug. They both blushed a lot. Maggie looked back at the quill and realized it was still writing. With a squeak, she picked it up off the paper and set it on its side, then hugged them each again.

"Our pleasure, Maggie. We will have to do this more often." Elvira leaned in and whispered conspiratorially in Maggie's ear. "Dellie's such a homebody. You'll get her out more." She nudged her in the side, prompting a giggle from Maggie. "So, we're on for flying tomorrow, right?"

Maggie swallowed hard, then feigned enthusiasm. "Sure. Better learn before the kids show up, right?" She grinned hopefully.

Elvira gave her a whack on the shoulder. "Righto. And we only have two weeks."

Maggie blanched. "Two weeks?" No way. No FUCKING way. It was just July!

Delphine smiled and patted her on the arm. "Don't worry, dear. We'll help you get ready." Maggie sank into a chair, murmuring softly to herself. Delphine looked at Elvira and shrugged. "We'll be off then, Maggie. UmmÂ… righto, then."

They headed down the ladder, leaving Maggie to her panicked meditation.

************

"Gaah!" Maggie kicked the book across the floor as she sat up, sending it spinning into the leg of a table. The vase of dried flowers on top tipped over and rolled, making her dive to catch it before it shattered. The rich smell of cloves filled the air. They reminded her of her nights at the Deus Ex Machina, reading tarot and dancing to the pulsing rhythm. She set the vase of flowers on the floor beside her. God, I need music right now. Her eyes strayed forlornly towards her CD player. No Muggle devices. It's not a Muggle deviceÂ…it's the key to my damned soul. My soul will starve without my tunes. Bugger. She snorted. Holy crap, I'm thinking in British.

The moon was huge. Idly, she wondered what time it was back in Rochester, and she immediately regretted the thought. "I miss you, T." A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly soaked up by the cuff of her black robe as it rasped across her face. She gave a quick, reflexive look around for Peeves, then surrendered herself to a good long sob, face plunging into her hands.

"I am so not a witch."

With Transfiguration, Minerva had been helping since she'd gotten her books. She was back to being relaxed around herÂ…well, her own version of relaxed, at least. She was encouraging, and helpful, but her brow furrowed deeper at each lesson. Maggie would get her teapot half-transformed into a turtle, but the wand would clatter to the floor from a numb hand before the spout had really turned into a proper tail.

As for Charms, Filius had been a godsend, and a patient one. Where Transfiguration simply numbed her hand with a slow, steady strain, Charms felt like grabbing onto a frayed electrical cord and shaking hands with it. She'd nearly launched his desk with her first "Wingardium Levios-AUGH!" It was embarrassing enough in itself, but as he was standing on it at the time, she hadn't been able to face him for a day afterwards. With some practice, she could ignore the first jolt, but unfortunately, it seemed that it was only painful when the charm worked. "This is not motivation to succeed," she hissed through gritted teeth as she held a feather suspended in the air for a moment. He nodded sympathetically as she finally sobbed out an expletive and let both feather and wand drop.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was mostly reading, which she did avidly. For her, the subject was like watching several seasons of "The X-Files", "The Outer Limits", and every horror movie she'd ever seen, and she couldn't wait to meet the new professor if only to ask if this stuff was really for real. History of Magic and Magical Theory were also reading-heavy, and the books were engrossing.

HerbologyÂ… was her salvation, really. Delphine was more than a teacher. The two had hit it off immediately, chatting about Muggle Herbology versus wizard Herbology, including herbs with the same name and far different properties. Maggie had nearly had kittens when she saw the mandrakes, noting that they looked NOTHING like the ones she'd seen in the herb shop on Monroe Avenue back home. "Ours don't wiggle!" she'd gasped, eyes saucer-wide. After a few days of fun banter, they were fast friends and chatting about everything. As Elvira was a near-constant presence outside the greenhouses, the three had become very chummy, and the loneliness was a lot more bearable for the past week.

Potions, howeverÂ…

The book was heavy in her lap, like a lump of lead and about as useful to her. "I don't get it! I can cook. I've been making herbal remedies since I was friggin' eighteen! Why can't I get this?" She glared at the book as though it was intentionally being obtuse. Delphine had been some help, guiding her in the herbal aspects of the ingredients and the theory behind the recipes, but somethingÂ…something intangibleÂ…was eluding her.

"Think, Mags. Think outside the cauldron." Her work-robe's sleeve was coarse against her puffy eyes. The discomfort made her ornery. She looked at her cauldron, then at the stains in the carpet that she'd almost managed to scrub out from her last potion adventure. The moon was high in the sky from her classroom window. It lit the tapestry covering the dumbwaiter, and she pondered for a moment, a wicked grin creeping across her face.

"He's got to be asleep by now." A smile crept across her face. "Lab time."

With a soft creak and much rattling of cauldron and components, Maggie began her descent to the dungeon.

*************

"Did you hear something?" The hooded figure turned and glanced down the hall.

Severus followed his gaze, then shook his head. "Probably one of the ghosts. Never mind that. When?"

The figure sneered. "You will know when the Master wishes you to."

Severus glowered. "The Invisibility Draught is perishable. I do not wish to make it too soon." He glanced back down the hall. "I would hate for the plan to go awry because someone popped into sight too soon."

"Leave the planning to those of us who have proven their loyalty completely, Snape. There are still those of us who would love to see you pay for your treachery." Red eyes glittered from beneath the hood. Severus swallowed hard. "The Dark Lord may have seen fit to forgive you... but there are those of us who wonder at his mercy to a traitor."

It was Severus's turn to sneer. "You question the Dark Lord?"

A clawlike hand flew out and grabbed him by the throat. Severus fought the urge to struggle. It was a game they'd played countless times before. He fell to his knees in a gesture of submission, and the hand released its grasp to let him gasp for air on the ground.

"We will meet again in two weeks' time, prodigal. Have your ingredients ready."

He was gone down the hall in a swirl of black cloth.

Severus knelt on the floor, rubbing his throat with more annoyance than discomfort. He looked around, listening intently.

"He's gone, Severus." A voice from the shadows caught his attention, and he turned to where he thought it came from. Dumbledore faded into sight, wiping his brow. "That was closer than I would have wished. He was late."

Severus nodded silently, staring at the floor. "No date. No plan. Are you sureÂ…?"

Dumbledore cut the question off with a wave. "You are in enough danger with what you do. Going in deeperÂ… I cannot abide you risking yourself that much." He looked at Severus intently. "You are far too important. No matter what you may think."

Severus shot him a look, and he backed off, hands raised. "You are more so, Albus. Far more than I. If they plan what I think they doÂ…" His voice lowered, eyes dark. "I have to find out."

Dumbledore strode forward, arms crossed. "I have lived a very long time, Severus. I don't intend to change that anytime soon. Worry about the safety of our students. I will worry about my own." His was a look that abided no argument. Severus nodded and rose, bowing as Dumbledore strode towards the opposite staircase.

*************

Hermione squeaked happily, forgetting all about the English-Latin online dictionary she'd just found.

Hermione huffed at the screen. "Boys! Where have their minds got off toÂ… used to just talk about Quidditch, now it's randy this and thatÂ…" Harry James Potter, you should be ashamed of thinking such a

Before she could hit "Enter", he'd pre-empted her reply.

She rolled her eyes and started to delete her rant, sipping at a soda and laughing. "You know me far too well, Harry."

Hermione choked on her soda, nearly spitting it out on the keyboard, then reentered part of her would-be post.

"Bullshit." She blinked at her own words. "I have been spending too much time around RonÂ…I've got his mouth." She paused a moment, thinking about what she'd just said, and was suddenly grateful that no one was around to see her blush.

LionSeeker: OK, OK, I surrender!

She looked at the keyboard. Defensive? Am I? Her mind wandered a moment. Is he? She banished the thought with a flurry of keystrokes.

Maggie sat in the dark chamber, breathing fast. Her arms were wrapped around her knees tightly, and she was shaking hard enough that she was sure the people down the hall had heard her bones rattling.

She waited until she heard Severus's footsteps fade, then eased her way out. Panic was rising. She was in the dark, alone. The first person she had wanted to tell had just left after some sort of weird conspiracy-sounding talk with the last person she wanted to talk to.

It sounded like something out of a spy film. You're in enough danger with what you do. Maggie snorted softly. What the hell is he doing? Are they being on the level with me? Can I even trust them anymore?

She paced a few steps before another realization struck.

She reignited her wand, too scared to feel anything else. The light seemed a little brighter now, casting disturbing shadows over her cauldron. Shapes moved in the shadowsÂ… large, crawling shapes. That was more than enough motivation to leave the room.

The hallways looked long and twisty, and she proceeded to turn left. Somewhere in the back of her head, she seemed to remember that going left was a good thing in mazes, something about counter-intuition or some rubbish. It was as good a direction as any. She looked into rooms as she passed them. Most seemed deserted and dank. Eerie paintings of grim still-lives, most involving skulls and dead birds, lined the walls, along with suits of armor that watched her through rusted visors.

As she walked, she mulled through her options. Tell Minerva? I don't even know where her room is. Besides, I don't want Dumbledore knowing I heard all that. I have a feeling this is a state secret. She paused. I'm a dumbass witch who knows too much, and is probably very expendable. Dumbledore seems like such a nice guyÂ… but is he? And SeverusÂ… hell, he'd probably relish the opportunity to swallow me whole, from the looks he gives me. She was getting more and more nauseous. Chills that had nothing to do with the damp cold of the dungeon ran up and down her spine. Shit. You're just a trouble magnet. At least nothing's blown up yet.

A glint of metal caught her eye. Polished metal.

Curious despite herself, she stepped into the chamber. A set of shackles sat on the stone floor.

"Heh. Argus's lost toys." Maggie swallowed. "At least, I hope that's why they're hereÂ… might be more about some faculty member's love life than I want to know." She stepped forward and leaned down to test the weight of the chains to see if perhaps she could carry them up to his office. Maybe Argus can help me with all of thisÂ… he doesn't seem to have an agendaÂ…he might know who to talk toÂ…

The shackles closed on her wrists before she could blink. Spectral hands grabbed the center of the chain and hoisted with an all-too-familiar cackle.

"PEEVES!" Maggie roared as the poltergeist hauled the chain over a hook in the wall, leaving her to dangle precariously on tiptoes. Her wand was lying on the ground. Peeves grinned at her maniacally, giggling and holding his sides.

"Looks like Little Muggle Maggie picked a bad place to go walkies!" He tutted at her. "You never know what sort of folk you'll run into down here, you know."

And he flew away in a hail of invectives from his abandoned prey.

"Well, shit."

************

Hermione's hands paused over the keys. A knot formed in her stomach. She'd never outright lied to Harry. But she couldnÂ’t tell him about the MuggleÂ…could she? What can I sayÂ…oh, buggerÂ…

"Not entirely a lie." Mr. Weasley. was one of the principals in the AMA/MoM project to aid Maggie. Still, the knot of guilt sat in her stomach, writhing a little and making her squirm.

She looked at the clock on the screen and rubbed her eyes.

She screamed. She cursed. She wriggled in the bonds, flailing helplessly against the heavy chains and drawing blood from both wrists. Her right arm was already aching from the illumination spell, and the chains were introducing her to new worlds of hurt. "ARGUS! SNAPE! ANYBODY?" Rats scuttled in the shadows, the only sign of life in the immediate vicinity. A cold chill ran through her. What if the mysterious somebody heard her? He sounded the kill-the-interloper typeÂ… or even the ritual sacrifice type, and she was already strung up and ready. At least I'm not a virginÂ…then I'd really be in troubleÂ…

Despair began to set in after her voice started to go hoarse. "No one's going to hear me. No one's going to miss me. And I don't even think anyone goes down here. I am so fucked." She kicked the wall hard enough to bounce herself from her precarious balance, sending another shock of pain up her numbed arms. She cried out feebly, then started sobbing. "I hate this place. And now I'm going to die here."

"You do give up far too easily, you know."

Maggie's voice came up short. She wiped her eyes abruptly on her shoulder, getting a fine coating of dust in them for her troubles.

Severus stood, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway. His robe was rumpled, and his oily hair looked tousled, but he was smirking all the same.

Maggie coughed. "Professor Snape. Seems I can't help but bother you today."

Severus studied her, eyes glittering a little. "Actually, I believe we are well into tomorrow. It's four in the morning. Why are you down here?"

Maggie looked up at her wrists, then over at him. A sarcastic grin took over her face. "Just hanging around. D'ya mindÂ…?"

Her grin was quickly matched. "Oh, no, of courseÂ…not at allÂ…" He straightened and turned to leave. Maggie sputtered, and he turned back.

"What were you doing down here?" His gaze was intense.

She looked at her feet guiltily. "I was going to try and do some Potions work in the lab. Didn't want to bother you during the day."

He strode forward swiftly. His eyes were dark as they stared straight down into hers. He was closer than he had been this afternoon, and she could smell ozone and dried herbs on his robes. She tipped her head back until it rested against the wall. He was about a foot taller than her, and making eye contact while chained to the wall was an uncomfortable prospect at this close a range. She swallowed hard.

"You heard everything, didn't you."

Lie. Lie like a dog in summer. Maggie swallowed again. The chains bit into her wrists hard as she shrank back from him.

"Yeah. I heard everything." Her own eyes grew hard and cold. "What the hell is going on?"

"Things you wouldn't understand." He stepped back to look at her again, eyes roaming over every inch of her. She could feel them, a strange heat rising in her, feeling half-violated, halfÂ…

A low growl started in her throat. She challenged him with her gaze. Fuck you. "Try me."

He looked at her, blanking his face, then cocked his head, looking pointedly at her right wrist.

"What is that scar?" He gestured with his chin. A long, thin scar traced along the length of her forearm, along the vein, shining eerily in the light of Severus's wand.

Maggie went white. She'd forgotten her brace upstairs. Her robe sleeves had slid down to rest in bunches on her shoulders, and she suddenly felt very exposed. "You wouldn't understand," she snarled, enraged that he'd seen it.

He stepped forward again, one hand on his robe sleeve. He slid it up, revealing a rather horrid-looking tattoo.

"A story for a story, Miss Carter. Then, I release you."

"You blackmailing sonofaÂ…" He smirked again, and she momentarily wished she lacked the self-preservation instinct enough to knee him.

"I'll begin. A gesture of goodwill." His dark eyes bore into hers humorlessly. "This mark."

"A gang sign?" Maggie looked at it, then at him. His eyes widened, startled at her assessment. She shrugged, chains jingling softly. "Friend of mine back home had one. He was in a biker gang back in The Day. His skull had a dagger instead of the snake, and said 'Death's Messengers' around it." She looked into his eyes inquisitively. "He got smart and quit. How 'bout you?"

His lip curled. "As did I, Miss Carter. Only thisÂ…gangÂ… the Death EatersÂ… belongs to the most powerful Dark wizard of our time. We killed a lot of people." He didn't release her gaze. "I helped them. I wanted to purge this world of wizards like you." His voice was a hiss. Maggie felt his eyes burning through her head, and blood dripped down her arms as she pulled back involuntarily, head hitting the wall with a thump. "Muggle-born, ignorant of our ways. Ill-bred. Inferior. Mongrels." He swallowed, breaking the gaze for a moment. Was that guilt? "Or so I thought, then."

He paused a moment, looking into her eyes. "My loyalty was tested one day, and a woman died because of it. I had a change of heart. With Albus's encouragement, I used my position within the Death Eaters to find information and aid in bringing them down.

"The Dark Lord has risen in power again, and I have rejoined the fight as I did before. None can know of this. They plot to kill Dumbledore, and I will not let that happen." His eyes were black steel.

Maggie, ghost white, nodded. He's gonna kill me. I'm dead. Fuck.

"Despite your raging incompetence in potion creation," he whispered, "I see something within you. Strength. An ally, perhaps. I thought for sure you'd be Slytherin." She thought he sounded a little wistful at that. "Besides, if you seem for a moment unworthy of this trust, you wouldn't know how to stop me from performing a Memory Charm and wiping it all from your headÂ… and I do mean all."

Maggie swallowed hard. Show no fear. "The womanÂ…who diedÂ…" she began hesitantly.

"Story for story, Miss Carter. The scar." His eyes were intensely black, drawing her in. She remembered how a mouse had frozen in eyes like those, just before he was swallowed whole.

Her eyes locked onto his. "Both my parents died within two weeks of each other. I lost it for a while. I tried to kill myself. Tina caught me at it before I did any real damage and hauled me to the emergency room." Her breathing was tight, eyes glinting dangerously in the light.

There was little reaction in his eyes. He didn't break the gaze. "There's more."

She hissed. "There's more to yours too, I'd wager."

"I'm not chained to a wall. Story for story, Miss Carter. Only fair. Others have been orphaned and lived. Why kill yourself too?"

She closed her eyes, shivering uncontrollably, then resumed her glare. "I knew about it. Both of them." He had the grace to look surprised. Her voice was dead and cold, and rolled on with the slow force of a funeral train. "I couldn't stop my father's. He knew he was dying. He had a heart disease, and they couldn't find a transplant in time. I saw his funeral in my crystal ball, six months in advance." She fought down the tremor in her voice, replacing it with more steel. "When I saw his funeral, I saw something else. My mother, upset, crying, drinking too much after the funeral. Her car. A railing." She gagged slightly, jerking at the cuffs suddenly. The pain brought her back. "I knew she was going to die. And I didn't stop her."

His eyes flinched, and he seemed to want to say something. She continued, eyes unflinching.

"She thought that all of my scrying, all of my divination, was demonically-induced bullshit. So she wouldn't listen to me. Even when I tried to take her keys. I was the only one who saw that she'd been sneaking shots out of her flask all night. Uncle Phil took the keys from me, handed them to her. 'Don't upset her worse, Maggie.'" She gave a short, humorless laugh. "The police called the funeral parlor fifteen minutes later to say she'd gone off a bridge. Died instantly.

"I went home, took my crystal ball, shattered it into as many pieces as I could, and did that with one of them." She jerked her head up, glancing at the thin line on her arm, then back at him.

He looked as though he'd swallowed a bowl of live snakes. She wasn't sure if it was guilt or just revulsion. She wasn't sure if she cared.

"You mentioned to DumbledoreÂ…a distaste for crystal balls."

"That's why, if I had my way, I'd chuck every one of them from the top of my tower. Yeah." Her voice was bitter. "Now I get to teach kids how to use them. Imagine my joy." She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. "So now you have a choice. You can let me down now, or you can piss off and let me finished what I started five years ago."

"Alohomora." The cuffs unlocked abruptly, and she fell forward. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up, deceptively strong for its slimness. His robe was softer than it looked, and smelled like the ozone after a lightning storm and dried herbs. She jerked away from his grasp, falling back against the wall. His lip curled again, and he bowed. "Wouldn't want you giving up yet again, Miss Carter."

She stalked across the floor, bending to pick up her wand. Her fingers brushed it but would not close around it, deadened by their prolonged imprisonment. She could feel the burning as blood surged back into her arms. Her head spun as she leaned forward.

"DammitÂ…" She lost her balance and stumbled to her knees. Blood was caked along her forearms in long rivulets, and still oozed from gashes on her wrists. Severus was beside her in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

"You're observant," she spat.

The room was spinning. She almost had feeling back in her hands, none of it good. Her knees felt like jelly. With effort, she straightened back up, wand gripped tenuously between her fingertips. She spun on her heel to walk out the door, and the room kept going.

Severus had her in his arms again. Ignoring her protests, he slipped her arm around his neck and hoisted her, carrying her down the hall the way she had come. Dignity bowed out in favor of very strong nausea.

***************

"Drink this."

It tasted like blood, and she very nearly spat it out. "This revenge for your robes? What the fuckÂ…"

Severus fixed her with a look. "It's a potion used for the treatment of those attacked by vampires. It should restore you from your blood loss and trauma." He smirked. "That'll be in your third-year text." He sat on the edge of another table, dressed in what appeared to be a sleeping robe of some sort over pajamas. Black velvet robe overÂ…is that black silk? Why am I not at all surprised? Could he get more goth?

"Bite me." She gunned the rest like a shot of some unpleasant liqueur with a practiced gesture, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Add some vodka to this and I know a nightclub that'd love the recipe." She set the glass down on the table next to her. The marble was cold, seeping through the velvet of her robe. Her shoulders were aching, and the cold only made it worse, but at least her head had stopped the endless spinning.

"Potion for potion, Miss Carter." He cocked his head, studying her. "I don't see how you can't fathom first-year spells, but could knock me down with a shot ofÂ… whatever potion you used that evening."

Maggie looked at him a long moment, trying to figure out if he was kidding. His gaze didn't waver. "That wasn't a potion, really. It was Capstun. Pepper spray." She shrugged. "Nothing mystical, just concentrated capsacin from hot peppers, and a propellant. Honest."

He blinked at her, then pondered a moment, letting a short dry laugh slip out. "Pepper juice. HowÂ…quaint."

She glared at him. "Levelled your ass, didn't it?"

He glowered. Instantly, she felt guilty.

"LookÂ… I'm sorry I barfed on your robes, and I'm sorry I maced you. I know I never apologized for that, butÂ… frankly, I thought if I tried, you'd turn me into a newt." She looked down at the marble, tracing a thin white striation with her finger.

"A newt?" He smirked. "Alas, Miss Carter, I only duel with those who are of measurable skill in the arts."

She looked up at the ceiling, anger rising again. He just never quitsÂ… "Hey, my skill is perfectly measurable. It's in the negative right now, but just you waitÂ…" Her head snapped down to face him. "I'm getting there, through hell, high water, and even your sarcasm. So get over it."

His face was unreadable once more, but there was a hint of a smile. As soon as he realized it was there, it was gone. "If you've finished your speech, Miss Carter, I would like to get some rest before breakfast."

Maggie glowered at him for a moment longer, then pushed herself off the table. Her right wrist screamed at her for it, but she stood steadfast when she hit the ground. She bowed. "Thanks for the rescue and the drink. Sweet dreams."

She could feel him watching her until she was down the hall.

"Asshole." She slouched towards the dumbwaiter room in foul spirits, praying silently that sleep would make her forget this night existed.