Divined Intervention

Chapter Thirteen: Requiem for the Luckless

Severus sat up, surveying the room dully. Broken bottles of herbs and components lay all around him. Something sharp had made its way into his leg. He could feel it there, gnawing into his flesh, but he didn't particularly care. It hurt less than his head.

He could still smell her in the air, on his skin. He wanted a hot shower, hot enough to boil her presence away from him, to purify his mind and his body. He could taste her on his lips, sweet and spicy and animal. It was torture. Worse.

He kicked a vial as he stood and began brushing shards of glass and bits of refuse off his robe. His sleeves cast a small shower of something glittery as he did, and he stopped to look at it as it fell.

"Odd."

Cold practicality and curiosity drove her out of his mind for a moment. He knelt, looking at the spilled vials for some clue as what the glittering substance could be. Nothing. He gripped the edge of the table and stood again, then froze. His fingertips glittered even brighter. The tabletop was coated in swirled patches of glitter.

It would be my luck if she were some great overgrown American fairy, now wouldn't it... He smirked a moment, then grew serious.

"Lumos." His wand lit the table more brightly. The surface shimmered in patches. His fingers traced over it. He could still feel her warmth there, fading beneath his fingertips. His palm rested on the table, as though trying to keep the warmth within the marble. A soft growl of irritation built in his throat.

"Lumos Lunare." The light at the end of his wand changed and became more silvery. The glittery patches on the table glowed an eerie shade of blue.

"Moonstone. Damn it all." Severus groaned softly. "What did you do, Maggie?"

***********

"I...think I'd better head upstairs. But I want to hear everything tomorrow!" Harry looked at his friends, then headed upstairs with a look of frustration.

Hermione watched him go. "Of all the nights to be bound to Malfoy...feh." She looked back at Ron. "OK, you don't have to worry about him hearing anymore. Give. What happened?" She sat on the edge of her seat, gripping the cushion with an eager expression on her face.

"Nothing!" It came out faster, higher than he'd wanted it to. "Nothing. I went down there, Snape was there, the closet door was open, I snuck in, he was working on something that took up a lot of room, so I had to stay down there for a while." Ron gave an expansive gesture. "That's it!"

Hermione looked unconvinced. "What was he working on? A potion?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah, a potion."

"I still think you're not telling me everything." Hermione set her hands on her hips and looked at him sternly.

Ron felt himself getting warm again.

"Hermione, just drop it, ok?"

"I won't just drop it!" She stood, face flushed. "Ronald Weasley, did it ever occur to you that what he was doing might be important to the Order?" Her eyes were intense, potent, like dark chocolate, drawing him in, making him want to taste the potency as she stepped closer.

What the...? His hand began to rise of its own accord, reaching for her. No.

"Yeah, and if it is, we might cock things up if we mess with it!" Ron stood up, towering over her, forcing the thought away. Suddenly, she looked a lot smaller. More delicate. Softer.

Soft enough to touch...

Ron swallowed hard and stepped back, tripping over a footstool.

Hermione squeaked and ran over to him. "Are you all right?" Her hand caught his, her thumb caressing his palm gently. Concern flooded her eyes, and she knelt beside him. Her other hand ran over his hair, smoothing it. "Ron..." Her voice was a whisper as she leaned over. Ron scuttled backwards from her until his back was pinned against the side of a chair.

"Hermione...maybe we'd better go to bed. I mean, I'd better go to bed. I mean... I'll stash the ingredients in Harry's footlocker, under the cloak." His voice squeaked slightly, panic driving out the naughty thoughts.

Hermione sat there staring at him. "What's wrong?"

Ron's face glowed red as he looked at one of the tapestries on the wall, memorizing the pattern through hazy eyes. "We really shouldn't argue right now. Really. Really really."

Hermione looked away, matching his red and raising it. "Oh!" She loosened the neck of her robe a little with a finger, fanning herself. "Right. Umm...see you tomorrow morning, then."

She stood up, obviously waiting for him to do the same.

"You...go on ahead, Hermione. I need a moment."

Hermione looked at him quizzically a moment, then blushed again. With a stifled giggle, she headed for the staircase to the girls' dorms. Ron watched her go, then stuffed the folded cloak over his face to muffle the cry of frustrated anguish he'd been stifling.

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

The pillows were soft against her face, but not nearly smothering her enough. She wanted them to. Maybe if she stopped breathing, she wouldn't be able to feel it.

She could still feel his hands on her body. She could see his eyes before her, dark and powerful and filled with fierce desire. She could feel... A shiver ran down her spine. It radiated through her body like lightning, in all the right wrong ways, and she groaned and rolled over, forcing the pillows over her head.

DAMMIT! You're coworkers. And he doesn't even like you. He just had some... animal male response to you. That's it. End of story. A bitter taste rose in her mouth. Same as always.

Her hair was wet, soaking the sheets beneath her. An hour in the shower, and she could still smell him. Ten minutes with the toothbrush working the enamel from her teeth, and she could still taste him. Tears began to mingle with the dampness.

"What did you do, Maggie?" She groaned into her pillow. "What did you do?"

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

"Have you seen Professor Vector, Professor Dumbledore?" Estelle's voice was laden with concern.

"No, not since yesterday at dinner."

Estelle blanched, and Severus began eavesdropping in earnest. The smile faded from Dumbledore's face.

"Perhaps she decided to sleep in?" he offered.

Estelle shook her head. "I checked her rooms and her classroom. I couldn't find her. We usually walk in together." She swallowed hard, tears welling. "When last I saw her... I...she..." She looked around to make sure no one was listening. Elvira and Delphine were chatting animatedly about the Quidditch pairings of the year and the unfortunate delay in games this year due to the...unpleasantness. Severus was buttering a piece of toast and accepting a copy of The Daily Prophet from a darkly-feathered horned owl. She dropped her voice to a tearful whisper. "She said she was going to take care of the new Hogwarts ghost once and for all. I don't know what happened then. She just ran off."

Dumbledore nodded. "If she doesn't turn up for her classes today, we'll look for her." He patted her hand paternally. "She's a big girl, Estelle. I'm sure she's fine."

Severus glanced over at him. You always were the diplomat, Albus. Something in the old man's blue eyes told him that they'd be searching the castle before the day was out.

"Morning, all!" The sudden chipper greeting prompted a small scream from Estelle. Tabitha clapped a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Something happen that I should be aware of, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's smile looked as though it had never faded. "Nothing at all, Professor Vector. All is apparently quite well. Though, it does appear we need to speak at some point in the very near future. Perhaps after lunch?"

Tabitha's fingers dug into Estelle's shoulder hard. "Of course, Headmaster."

"Excellent. I look forward to it. Madame Carter, good morning!" Dumbledore turned his attention to Maggie, and Tabitha slipped off to her seat.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." Maggie smiled back, hoping it wasn't as forced-looking as she knew it was. She collapsed into her seat next to Minerva and drew her mug of coffee close. It was still warm, and she thanked that last shard of luck with all her heart.

Minerva studied her friend for a moment. "Maggie, dear, you look as though you didn't sleep a wink! Are you well? Perhaps Poppy..." Concern radiated from the older woman.

Maggie set her mug down. "No!" She cleared her throat. "I mean, no, I'm fine, just a restless night. Stress...you know, studies, teaching, dungbombs, all that sort of thing. I'll be fine. Really. No worries here." She grinned brightly.

Minerva looked unconvinced, but finished her tea. "If you are sure, Maggie... you know where to find me if you need to talk." A motherly hand rested on Maggie's arm for a moment. "I must go prepare for today's lesson. I'll see you at lunch."

Delphine and Elvira watched Minerva's departure, then leaned in. Elvira grinned wickedly. "Restless night, eh?" The glower Maggie favored her with only doubled their mirth. "Oh Merlin! Who is he? Did you slip out to the Broomsticks and not bring us?"

Maggie's eyes went wide. "Huh?" She nearly fumbled her coffee cup in confusion, one hand flying to her neck in an old self-conscious gesture. If that bastard left a hickey I'm gonna...

Elvira grinned smugly at Delphine. "Told you. I can always tell." Delphine tittered and set down her teacup, then tipped it over as she leaned in closer. "So, give, details, come on."

Maggie winced and looked along the table, praying hard that no one could hear them. Fortunately, everyone on the other end of the table seemed engrossed in a heated discussion of the latest tax on pickled slugs. Unfortunately, Severus chose that moment to glance her way. Their eyes met, and she looked away quickly, swallowing hard. He echoed the motion, glancing down at the Daily Prophet to catch up with the tax discussion.

"Guys, chill, willya?" She groaned and leaned her head in her hands. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"That bad, huh?" Mirth changed to concern, and Delphine left her chair to sit in Minerva's. "Or...are you all right? He didn't...someone didn't hurt you...or anything? Is it your wrist? Your studies?" She glanced down the table. "Pickled slug taxes?"

Maggie smiled faintly, chuckling despite herself at the last. "No. I'm all right. I just don't...want to talk about it. OK?"

Elvira and Delphine shared a worried look. "All right. Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." Both sat back in their chairs, glancing away.

Maggie rested a hand on each witch's shoulder and smiled warmly. "It's ok. Thanks for worrying about me, but there's nothing to worry about. I'm a tough b...witch. I can take it." Her smile almost convinced herself.

"Yeah, well..." Elvira leaned closer. "If yeh change yer mind, we'll beat bloody hell out of whoever he is. Sic Hagrid on him or something." Maggie choked on a mouthful of coffee and smacked the grinning witch playfully on the arm, resulting in much giggling at their end of the table.

---

Severus gazed down at them, shaking his head slowly. She wouldn't tell them, would she? Dear Merlin, why not just tell Rita Skeeter and be done with it?

"I know. Disgusting display, and in front of the student body no less." Tabitha's snide voice intruded on his thoughts, and he cut her off with a glare.

"Indeed. They should only have your bearing and professionalism, Professor Vector." He rose and left the table. The confused look on her face almost cheered him.

But, Tabitha's weren't the only eyes on his back.

He could feel her watching. A strange uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, and he doubled his stride.

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

"Professor Snape looks even more dreadful than usual today. Probably had Slytherins writhing on the floor all night thanks to that dratted potion." Hermione snorted delicately as she buttered her toast. Ron scowled slightly and focused on his porridge. "What's the matter, Ron? Did I say something...?"

A soft hooting cut her off. The mail owls began filling the hall, and, as had become uncomfortable custom, a hush fell over the Great Hall.

Despite his best efforts, Ron held his breath until Errol tumbled headlong into his porridge with a splash. The letter in his talons was in his mother's hand. He released the breath with a smile and plucked the letter and his copy of the Daily Prophet from the breathless bird. Harry remained tense, glancing around the room with concerned eyes. When no one cried out at any of the tables, he finally relaxed and went back to his plate.

No deaths in the families today.

Ron looked up from his porridge as a wan figure ambled up towards the faculty table. Madame Carter walked slowly, looking deep in thought about something unpleasant as she went. He could guess what, and he shook with rage hard enough to have to set down his spoon.

She looks awful. That bastard. I could kill him right now. Ron watched as Professor Carter took her seat, crumpling in on herself like an abandoned rag doll. All she's been through already, and now that slimy toad of a cad is...did...augh, I don't even want to think about what he did...

"...paying any attention whatsoever to what I'm saying?" Hermione nudged his arm, snapping his attention back.

"Huh?" He sighed. "Sorry. Missed that last."

Hermione glared. "I figured as much. What I said was, we should meet in the library after classes today to finish discussing what we couldn't last night." He couldn't be sure, but he thought he detected a blush spreading across her face. An uncomfortable feeling washed over his stomach, and he set his fork down on his plate.

"Oh. All right."

Harry sighed. "I've got Quidditch practice this afternoon... so do you, Ron. With the Slytherin match coming up on us, we've got to be in tip-top shape. Focused. Right, Ron?" He waved a hand in front of his friend's eyes.

"Huh? Oh, right Harry."

Hermione sighed. "Tonight, then. I'll wait for you there." She smiled. "It'll be good to give us a little extra time for the potion to wear off."

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

"Last evening you read about defensive wards, correct?" All eyes were rapt upon Professor Dumbledore as he sat, hands folded, behind his desk. "Good. Then perhaps someone would be so kind as to tell me the easiest way to break one?" A few hands popped up, and as usual, Hermione's was the fastest and highest.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Now, Hermione, we must let the rest of the class show their brilliance as well." She blushed and let her hand drop. "Say, perhaps Harry?"

Harry started, then thought on it for a moment. "Umm... from within the ward?"

"Well done. Five for Gryffindor. From within the ward, one can burst it in a variety of ways. Can anyone share an idea of how?" Dumbledore's eyes scanned the class and lit on a willing target. "Mister Malfoy?"

Draco sat up, his voice full of false modesty. "One method is to pressure the ward with enough magic to blow it outward."

Dumbledore nodded absently and rose from his seat, walking around the desk to perch on the front of it. "True, true. But this is a dangerous method for the wizard attempting it." Draco looked taken aback and, Harry thought, a mite worried. "In the process of building up such strong energies, the wizard could crush himself with them as easily as he could cause the needed explosion, should the barrier prove stronger than the magic raised. Five points to Slytherin, regardless."

Crabbe's hand started to rise, then dropped immediately. Dumbledore looked at him a moment, shrugged, then continued. Harry's eyes remained on the Slytherins. Crabbe was rubbing his shin beneath the table, looking downcast. Draco looked flushed. What are they up to now? He turned his attention back to class.

Dumbledore looked grim. "Very good, Lavender. Finding the ward's originator and incapacitating or, in the case of the strongest wards, slaying him. Or, finding the source of the wards themselves and destroying them, as in the case of warded buildings or estates. They can be craftily hidden, though. It is a difficult business, over all, and I hope that none of you are ever faced with the task."

The old man's face turned unreadable for a moment. Harry thought his eyes may have flitted back to Crabbe and Draco, but it was swift and subtle as Dumbledore always was. "As always, there are Dark Magic methods... the use of imps and demons to seek out wards, the sacrifice of innocents to raise power, and other foul means." For a moment, Harry thought Dumbledore looked very tired. He always did when he was teaching this class. "So be cautious who you let into your wards, should you be forced to maintain them someday."

But, it was fleeting. Dumbledore rose, smiled, and flipped his book shut behind him. "Well done, class. Tomorrow, personal protective symbols. Study hard." A mischievous smile flitted across his lips. "There may be a test."

The class groaned as one and filed out.

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

"Ron, look out!" Harry yelled as the bludger careened towards his friend. Belatedly, Ron glanced over, in time to catch the flying sphere in the midsection. He tumbled off the broom with a yelp, and Harry turned his broom into a dive. Four feet from the ground, Harry caught a fistful of Ron's uniform. It was just enough to halt him, and the force hauled Harry off his broom. Both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Above them, they heard the rest of the team gliding down and hollering "All right, Ron? All right, Harry?"

Harry grunted and sat up. "All right, you lot! Keep practicing. We'll be right up!" A chorus of chuckles, and the rest returned to bludger dodging. "Ron, what is with you today?"

Ron growled as he sat up, rubbing his stomach. "I'm fine, I tell you. Really."

Harry looked unconvinced. Then, a flash of inspiration. "Oh...NO WAY! You...and Hermione...oh, bugger, I shouldn't have left the two of you alone..."

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Ron yelped, a mix of outrage and embarrassment raising his voice a notch. "We didn´t ever! Nothing...I mean, cor, Harry..."

Harry was on the ground laughing. "Good heavens, Ron, no need to get all irate about it!" He sat up suddenly. "Unless you're protesting so much because..."

Ron was reduced to a wordless stammering glare. Harry's voice went quiet. "Come off it, Ron. I know you've been mad about her since third year. Maybe second." Ron growled unconvincingly, arms crossed, eyes on the rest of the team. "Okay, dropping it now. Let's get back up there." Harry hopped back on his broomstick and pointed it upwards.

Before he could go, Ron caught his arm. "Harry..."

"What?"

"Thanks." He looked at the ground. "Nothing happened, but...thanks."

Harry grinned broadly. "Better luck next time!" he quipped, then soared up into the air quickly.

"Why you...!" Ron roared and chased after him.

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

"Oi, Maggie. How'd your day fare? Better, I hope?" Elvira slid Maggie's chair back with her foot as she ascended the stairs to the faculty table. The younger woman smiled wanly. "Oh dear, what happened?"

Maggie slumped into her seat. "The usual. Professor fills cauldron, professor attempts to light fire in hearth with her wand, professor's wrist makes her flinch hard enough to light the candles on the mantlepiece and crack five teapots with a gout of flame..." She groaned, resting her forehead on her left hand. "I'm amazed the kids show up at all. I'm obviously incompetent." She glanced over at Elvira. "Worst part: that was the first years. A little eleven-year-old girl lit the hearth for me."

"Oh, Maggie..." Elvira patted her on the back, trying to console her. "It can't be bad as all that. We all have our off days. Did I ever tell you about the afternoon I let Neville Longbottom break his wrist? Boy just went flying off like a rocket...boom! Into a wall. I was mortified... he'd caught me so off-guard, I didn't even think to use my wand!"

Maggie snorted softly. "At least you could have..."

"That's it." Elvira shook her shoulders gently. "You. Need. To. Lighten. Up!"

Maggie giggled in spite of herself.

"Better. You, me, Delphine, and Hagrid are going out tonight." She grinned. "Nothing like getting properly pissed mid-week to cheer one up a bit!"

Maggie smiled. "Thanks for the thought, Vi, but... I got no sleep last night. I think I'll just listen to some music, punch a few pillows, wrap some dragon's blood around it and get a good night's sleep."

"Right then." Elvira gave her a worried smile. "If you change your mind though...don't hesitate..."

"I know. Thanks." Maggie looked at the dinner trays. "Now, what on earth is this?"

"Bubble and squeak."

"I bet it does."

The two laughed and dug in.

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

"How'd practice go?" Hermione looked up from a thick tome at Ron as he shuffled into their favorite corner of the library. "Where's Harry?"

"He's helping to pack up the bludgers. He wanted me to let you know he'd be late." He took a seat across from her, wincing as he did so.

Hermione sat up. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing... minor bludger accident...no bother."

She came around the table, poking him gently. "You're hurt."

"OW! Am not. I'm fine, really." He batted her hand away gently.

"You should go see Madame Pomfrey!"

"I'm FINE!"

"You could have internal..."

"HERMIONE!" Ron growled in exasperation. "It's a sport. Bruises happen!"

"I'm only worried about you... you needn't shout!" She crossed her arms, looking piqued. And beautiful. When her eyes flash like that... Ron gasped. No, not this again!

Hermione dropped to her knees beside him. "What? What's the matter? All right, you're going if I have to drag you..." She caught his arms tightly, tugging at him to stand.

Without thinking, he caught her shoulders, pulling her back down to his level. "Hermione, stop. Please. I'm fine." His voice was soft and low. She blinked, eyes trapped in his gaze.

"I....I just worry...about you." Her grip on his arms loosened, but her hands didn't move from them.

"I know." One hand moved to her hair, gently caressing it. Her eyes closed, a small worried smile tugging at her lips. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her towards him gently. His eyes closed, and he leaned closer to her.

"Ron..."

"Mmm?"

She stood bolt upright, knocking him back into his seat. "Oh! Umm... Uhhh..." It wasn't like Hermione to be speechless, but she looked more flustered and confused than he'd ever seen her.

Bollocks. Bloody buggering blue HELL! Ron felt his face burning red. "Hermione, I'm sorry...I..."

"No... no... must be the potion... I...I'd better..." She didn´t finish the sentence. She just backed away, then ran out the door, ignoring a sharp admonishment from Madam Pince.

Ron started to his feet. "Hermione...wait...I..." She was gone. He crumpled into his seat, defeated.

"Damn."

"Damn what?" Harry walked up. "And where was Hermione rushing off to? She didn´t even say hello to me."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't. Finally, he sighed. "I think the potions are still working. Think of something dreadful to do to Malfoy."

Harry gave him a confused look, then closed his eyes. "Okay, tomorrow in the dining hall, I'll walk up behind him and pull his underpants over his head. Just for fun." He opened his eyes again. "Aside from a pleasant mental image, nothing. Why do you...ask?...oh...OH!" He sat down across from Ron. "What happened?"

Ron's head thwacked against the table.

"Don'wanna'talkaboutit."

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

"Home again, home again..." Maggie began as she stepped into her room.

In the center of her bed, a pile of folded clothing sat.

The clothes she wore beneath her robes last night.

"That's it." Weariness warred with defeat and anger in her voice, and she began to strip off her robes.

---

The moon rose high, casting slivers of silvery light over the high stone wall. A lone figure, luminescent, stood swaying with the wind, and she leaned down in curious delight to examine the gift left for her eyes only.

"What is this?"

Her finger brushed the glowing-white scroll, and it floated up and unrolled itself before her.

The scroll rerolled itself and vanished. She closed her eyes and sighed softly.

The music rose, and she began to move.

---

Sir Nicholas did a little dance, catching Peeves' hands as he did. "She read it! She's dancing! She must be dancing with joy!" He released Peeves, who was for once too surprised and confused to do anything rude. "She's noticed me. Oh happy night!"

The Baron and the Grey Lady looked at each other, then at him, then floated away down the tower stairs.

Sir Nicholas darted past them. "I must begin preparations at once! Make way!"

Peeves snorted. "Probably just wants to toss..."

The Baron glared, and he fell silent reluctantly.

"Have a private dance. With himself." Peeves finished triumphantly, then began to compose little ditties about it as he cackled his way down the stairs.

---

She mustn't see me. His back pressed fast against the wall, black robes hiding him deeper in the shadows.

As she began, his breath caught.

Nevertheless, he edged forward for a better view.

---

She paced a slow circle on the windswept stone wall, shimmering dust flying from her hair, eyes closed, swaying.

---

Her hips began to sway, a raptured expression of concentration and...sorrow?...mingled on her face. He caught himself leaning out of the shadows once more, drawn in.

The dance began in earnest. Her body writhed, spinning, stretching, driving out the pain in powerful gesture. Hands gripped the wall, heedless of pain. Blue dust flew in silver-blue gouts and wisps.

Spin, lean against the wall

Step forward. Push...sliding? Sliding...something slippery beneath her feet...can't stop...

A loose section of stone in the wall...

Sliding...stone tumbling down...then nothing.

Too scared to scream.

Falling.

End Chapter Thirteen

(For a special bit of irony: As I wrote Sir Nicholas' lovely sonnet, the cheap notebook I was writing in covered my pants thoroughly with glitter. Talk about getting into one's work...)