The Dream of One Night

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Severus

I knew the moment Avrille and I parted at the carriage I would not sleep at all even if I tried. Therefore, I was determined to work all night to catch up on my marking and try to drive the incredibly rash act I had almost committed from my mind. Of course, I knew that was not going to be easy, and thoughts of Avrille so tormented me I found it impossible to concentrate on anything. This included the pathetically simple pain-relieving draught I had been trying to brew to dispel the pounding headache threatening to incapacitate me. I finally stopped for a moment after the second botched attempt burned a hole in one of my better cauldrons. I sat at my desk and stared at the mountain of reports that still needed filling out before the last official day of term, which was only two days away. But my mind would not let me think of anything but Avrille and how she had received my foolish advances willingly, without any of the protest or indignation I had expected a split second before actually going for it.

I just hadn't been able to control myself; she had looked so vulnerable and sorrowful. I couldn't help but want to ease her suffering, comfort her. Of course, throwing myself at her probably wasn't the best course of action, I realised painfully now. But those damned shots of firewhisky before she arrived at the tavern had made me overly self-confident, and I had started to interpret signs from her to mean something slightly different than before. Of course, I was roaring drunk and probably just seeing what I wanted to believe... but maybe not. After all, she hadn't pulled away from me when I tried to kiss her...

I shook my befuddled head, still pounding like the inside of the great Hogwarts bell-tower, which had just sounded midnight. Gathering my wits, I attempted the relieving potion once more and completed it with perfection. A cupful of that instantly set my head right, and I sat back down at my desk to tackle the tottering stack of mid-term essays from my O.W.L. students. Reading and correcting had the therapeutic result I had hoped for, and after a while I was able to push Avrille to a corner of my mind and concentrate on work.

I worked through the night to finish the essays, but at last, at seven o'clock in the morning, I was done and set my quill down. Of course, I then realised how irresponsible I had been staying up like that when I had to teach in the morning, so I headed back to my rooms for a nap before my class with the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors started at eleven. I would be sorry to miss Avrille at breakfast, but it was probably wise to rest up before trying to embark upon that issue.

The first years' lesson passed uneventfully; fortunately, that class held no troublesome students like those who seemed to permeate the upper ranks, namely Longbottom, Potter, and the three youngest Weasley brothers. I did notice, however, that Ginny Weasley was absent once again, and I made a mental note to stop by the hospital wing later and ask Madam Pomfrey about her. She had been looking increasingly withdrawn over the past few weeks. She was a decent student, so it warranted my attention.

The class had been so quiet, I realised later, because of the thinness of the Gryffindor side. Along with Miss Weasley and the few students out with flu, Colin Creevy was missing, still petrified in the hospital wing. I knew Avrille worried about him greatly and had visited him more than once, even though she knew it was completely pointless given his frozen state.

Since the class had managed to brew their Forgetfulness Potions so well, I released them a couple minutes early to the frigid air outside the steaming classroom. After straightening and tidying up manually, which I admit was an attempt to stall leaving the dungeons themselves, I walked briskly up the dungeon stairs, determined to speak with Avrille over lunch.

The hallways were oddly deserted for it being break time, but I continued on to the Great Hall nevertheless. When I entered through the staff door in the back, I saw only Pythagora and Pomona present for the teachers and only a handful of students were seated beneath us, all wearing confused expressions as to the lack of food.

I walked quickly over to my fellow professors and asked, "What's going on?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Pythagora said with a shrug, looking as puzzled as me.

"My Herbology classes were cancelled due to the snow," Pomona added. "I've just been checking on the mandrakes once more."

I was about to leave and find Minerva when she herself hurried into the hall, clutching her wand so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Oh, Professors," she gasped, placing her free hand over her heart. "There has been another attack. Please follow me to the staffroom. The headmaster wishes to address us all there." Then she turned to the small clusters of students around the hall and ordered them all back to their dormitories where lunch would be brought to them and to stay there until further notice.

Pomona, Pythagora, and I all dashed back through the corridors after Minerva to the staffroom. Upon entering I saw it was completely filled with all the staff members who had been missing from the hall, including three of the four House ghosts (the Grey Lady, the Fat Friar, and the Bloody Baron) as well as Argus Filch. Filch was dabbing his eyes with an old stained handkerchief, seemingly reminded once more of the attack on his cat, Mrs Norris. Everyone was muttering amongst themselves, except Avrille, who was sitting alone in the back looking very small and frightened. I moved to stand near her but dared not offer any comfort in such a crowded atmosphere. Minerva refused to give any more information, citing the desire to wait for Dumbledore himself. The air was very tense. Only a few teachers seemed to the identity and condition of the victim, and they remained in silent contemplation. I looked to Filius, but he just shook his head and buried his face in his hands. Avrille was staring straight ahead at nothing. When I was sure no one was looking, I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at me and smiled, making me feel light-headed. Just then Dumbledore blew into the room, his voluminous robes billowing around him. I quickly dropped my hand from Avrille's shoulder.

"Please be seated," Dumbledore said with a great sigh. Having no place else near, I sat next to Avrille on the old divan and waited for Dumbledore to speak. He Conjured up a comfortable looking armchair and slowly sank into it.

"As you have undoubtedly heard, there has been another attack this afternoon." Dumbledore paused, looked at Pomona, then announced, "Justin Finch-Fletchley." Pomona cried aloud and covered her mouth with her hand. Finch-Fletchley belonged to her House as a Hufflepuff.

Pomona's loud exclamation had covered a much softer one from Avrille beside me so that no one but I heard it. I looked aside at her and to my alarm saw her face had blanched as white as the snow on the outside windowpanes. I had never seen anyone pale as quickly or severely before. Even her lips had gone grey and deep shadows rimmed her eyelids. I discreetly placed my hand over hers, and she looked to me in absolute terror. She was trembling slightly yet gripped my hand with surprising force. However, no one else noticed since all eyes were fixed solidly on Dumbledore. He continued while Lavinia comforted Pomona who was now silently sobbing.

"Fortunately, Justin was only petrified, along with Sir Nicholas who was found floating near him. As Sir Nicholas is already a ghost, he is in no peril that I can see. He has been moved to an empty classroom, and Justin has been taken to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey is tending to him." The three ghosts present were shaking their heads and murmuring together. Pomona looked very relieved to hear Justin was alive and began fanning her face trying to dry her tears.

"Where did the attack take place?" I asked, after releasing Avrille's hand with effort. Her grip was like a vice.

"Just outside my Transfiguration room," Minerva answered solemnly. She looked suddenly to Dumbledore for what seemed to be permission for something, and he nodded slightly to her. "Peeves found Harry Potter kneeling beside Finch-Fletchley and sounded the alarm."

I couldn't keep myself from scoffing. "And so, once again, Potter is at the scene of an attack before anyone else! I can't be the only one who finds that highly suspicious." Indeed, a few professors muttered agreement, but Dumbledore fixed me solidly with his clear blue eyes.

"I have talked to Mr Potter, and I do not believe he is in any way involved with these attacks. Furthermore, Hagrid informed me that he had spoken to Harry moments before the attack occurred and could not have committed it in such a short time. I believe them both."

"But last night during the duelling match, everyone saw Potter speaking Parseltongue to the Conjured snake that just happened to be heading straight at Finch-Fletchley," I argued.

"I believe them both," Dumbledore repeated. This silenced all extraneous muttering and, I hated to admit, forced me to put the matter to rest in my mind as well. However, I knew something strange connected Potter to these attacks. He confirmed these feelings even more so last night when he suddenly spoke Parseltongue without ever informing the school of being party to that very singular gift. I just didn't know what the connection was.

"What shall we do with the students?" Minerva asked to break the tension hanging heavily in the air.

Dumbledore sighed once more and rested his chin on steepled fingers. "If this attack follows the pattern of the previous two, the students should be in no danger for the present time. I suspect that today's events will convince more students than before to return home for the holiday, which will benefit us all. The Heads of Houses," he said, looking in turn to Minerva, Pomona, Filius, and myself, "shall go to their House common rooms once this meeting is finished and explain the situation to their students. I would recommend posting a new sign-up list for students who wish to leave the castle for Christmas."

Dumbledore paused for a moment with his bright eyes focused on the faded Oriental rug in front of him. "For those of you who are remaining here for holiday, all I can ask for is a heightened diligence. Anything curious or out of the ordinary is to be reported to me immediately. Unless we are able to determine the perpetrator of these attacks, I will be forced to close the school indefinitely." At these words several professors shook their heads in displeasure, and Avrille sought out my hand once more. Dumbledore stood and Vanished his chair. "That will be all," he said in a grave voice. "Heads, please see to your Houses."

The teachers filed out silently through the staffroom doors, the ghosts simply sailing through the panelled walls. I rose and followed Avrille to leave the staffroom, but she stopped suddenly and nodded for me to continue on. I exited through the door but remained just outside so I could speak with her. When she failed to emerge after a minute, I looked through the crack of the ajar door and saw Avrille standing by the fireplace with tears streaming down her cheeks. Pain contorted her fair face as she struggled to take shallow, shuddering breaths. Unable to stand there just watching, I knocked quietly on the door and stepped back into the staffroom.

Avrille started at the sound. She turned to face the wall while furiously wiping her eyes clear with shaking hands. I walked up to her, torn between whether or not it would be better to leave her alone with her grief. I guessed Avrille thought I had left and had the feeling my reappearance had embarrassed her.

"Are you all right?" I asked Avrille quietly as she stood trembling in front of me. She nodded but her eyes were looking down at the hardwood floor, unfixed and unblinking.

"I have to go address my House," I said stupidly. Avrille's gaze suddenly shot up to mine with such pleading and anguish I could not breathe.

"Can I stay with you?" she begged and grabbed my arm. Although I was flattered by her sudden desire to be with me, I could not enjoy it given her intensely troubled state. I suspected something besides worry for one of the students was behind her agitation.

"Of course," I said as gently as I could. "Why don't you come wait in my office while I speak to my students. Then we can talk if you want." This seemed good enough for her, so she accompanied me down to the dungeons, leaning on me slightly as she walked as though she could not stand up on her own. I left her reluctantly in my office, lighting a good blaze and assuring her I would lock the door.

My heart heavy and my mind spinning, I set off down the twisting dungeon passageways to the Slytherin common room. A cold draught blustered through the corridors, and I pulled my robes more tightly around myself. After descending the two winding staircases, I stopped in front of the section of wall I knew so well. I murmured, "pure-blood," the current Slytherin password, with more than a little bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. Although I had to admit I used to agree with the basic teachings of Salazar Slytherin, keeping magical instruction within pure-blood families, I could never condone attacking any innocent person, be them pure-blood, Muggle, or Muggle-born.

The common room was packed with students of all years huddled in groups and sharing rumours of the latest attack. I noticed a distinctly different feeling in the air than I'm sure was being felt in the other three House common rooms at that moment. It was almost gleeful. Draco Malfoy was sitting like a prince on a throne in the tall-backed, ebony armchair by the fire. I remembered that used to be a favourite spot of mine to do homework. However, I was never popular like Malfoy, who was currently surrounded by all of his fellow second years and telling some sort of story that was drawing excited screeches of glee from the girls present, especially Miss Parkinson.

Of course I knew Lucius was bringing his only son up to be a true heir of Slytherin House. It aggravated me beyond explanation to be teaching Lucius' son at a time when everyone knew the Dark Lord was trying to find a way to come back to life. These past two years, I had been forced to tread lightly around Draco, betraying nothing inappropriate that could lead Lucius to believe his former Death-Eater companion had been secretly aiding Dumbledore during those vital months before the Dark Lord's downfall. If any of the Death-Eaters ever found out I was a traitor...

The room hushed significantly when I entered, and Malfoy's harem scattered. I waited for complete silence as over fifty pairs of shining eyes turned towards me, thirsting for information.

"As you have undoubtedly already heard," I began once I had the full attention of every student, "there has been another attack this afternoon. Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff and Sir Nicholas have both been petrified." I paused as an undercurrent of excited twitters hummed through the room. Realising I wouldn't continue until their chattering had ceased, the students quickly quieted themselves once more. "Since no one yet has any clues as to the nature of these attacks, Headmaster Dumbledore is encouraging any student who is able to return home for Christmas-"

"What, with entertainment like this to be had?!" Draco called out. Most of the Slytherins sniggered.

"That will do, Mr Malfoy," I said in a warning tone, and Draco contented himself with a pleased smirk. "I will be posting another sign-up sheet on my office door for any student who wishes to return on the Hogwarts Express Wednesday. Until then, students are encouraged to avoid any unnecessary wandering of the corridors until further notice. And, of course, if any student has any information that could shed light on these attacks, he or she is expected to convey it to a teacher immediately." A flood of smiles was the only response I received from these words, which was basically what I had expected. The thought of a Slytherin student hindering the work of "Slytherin's Heir" was absolutely ludicrous, and the students knew that as well as I. Still, I felt it my duty to say something.

"Classes have been cancelled for the remainder of the day," I concluded, "and you are to remain in the dormitory until dinner to avoid getting in the way of staff who are conducting searches." With that, I turned promptly from the room, slightly sickened at the mind-set of a quarter of the students at Hogwarts. However, I pushed those thoughts to the far corners of my mind and turned instead to worry for Avrille. I hurried as quickly as I could back to my office, setting the torches flickering with the speed of my passing. I stopped outside my door for a moment to compose myself then thrust my wand at the handle. The locked clicked open, and the door swung ajar to reveal Avrille huddled next to the fire just as I had left her. She looked up with a weak smile as I entered, her face tear-stained.

"I'm sorry," she said as she sat up a little straighter in the chair, "I must be inconveniencing you with the school being in such a state."

I looked down at her with disbelief. I had imagined my actions last night would have given her a hint as to my feelings towards her and been an assurance that I would rather be nowhere but here. I moved a desk chair near her and sat down.

"Of course not," I said reassuringly. "Can I get anything for you? A glass of water or some wine, perhaps?"

Avrille shook her head, making her hair spill down over her shoulders. "No, really, I'm fine. It's happened before, and it will probably happen again. It's just been so long... I was unprepared." Avrille stared down at her hands, leaving me puzzled by her mysterious statement.

"Do you mean the attacks? They are obviously upsetting, there's nothing to be ashamed about," I said, leaning forward in my chair.

"No, it's not just the attacks." She fidgeted a little and seemed uncomfortable. "I've never told anyone this... You'll probably think me strange." Avrille paused again, as though debating whether or not to continue. Finally, she said quietly, "When I was younger, I would often have dreams of events that would later come to pass."

"Well, that's not very strange at all," I said. "Does your family have any Seers in it?"

"No, that's why it's strange," Avrille replied. "Absolutely no one in my family has ever exhibited any ability of foresight whatsoever. I thought perhaps I had grown out of it... It's been years since I saw anything... But, I can't deny what I dreamt last night was a vision... and... I'm scared." She bowed her head making her hair rush forward like tumbling satin.

I sat back in my chair for a moment. If Avrille believed herself to have had some sort of vision last night relating to the attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley, it would certainly explain why she had broken down when she had heard about it. "What exactly did you dream?" I asked.

Avrille did not look up, but her voice came from behind her hair, "I dreamt I saw Justin Finch-Fletchley with a snake around his neck. He said something to me... And then he fell over petrified, just like how he was found this afternoon."

"But perhaps that's just a coincidence. After all, everyone saw the Conjured snake go after Finch-Fletchley at the duelling club last night. Maybe you were just thinking of that when you fell asleep and, with the use of hindsight, you're now interpreting the dream as referring to today's attack," I suggested.

Avrille shook her head fiercely and looked up at me with eyes that burned with their desperation. "But that's impossible since I didn't see that duelling match, remember? I was in Hogsmeade the whole night before I met you at the Three Broomsticks. I didn't even know about any Conjured snake until you mentioned it to Professor Dumbledore just now."

"Of course," I muttered and passed a hand over my eyes. I had forgotten Avrille had not been at the duelling club, which was a shame since I imagine she would have enjoyed seeing me send Lockhart flying across the room...

Avrille rose with a noise of frustration and started pacing in front of the fire with her hands covering her mouth and nose. I stood and took her gently by the shoulders, looking down at her.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," I said, "and if you do possess some form of the Sight, then you should be proud, not frightened of it. Perhaps someday you could use it for good-"

"Some good it did Justin!" she cried out. I felt a burst of energy pass through me, and the fire flared suddenly. I took an involuntary step back. Hot tears of anguish streamed down Avrille's face. Her shoulders were shaking as I took them once more. Avrille spun and broke my hold. She started to pace again while raking and twisting her fingers through her hair. "I could have done something!" she shouted hysterically. "I could have warned him! I had the vision, but I didn't do anything about it! Justin could have been fine and in class right now! It's all my fault!"

Four glass jars over the fireplace shattered. Ignoring the mess, I closed the space between us in two strides and took her in my arms. Avrille sobbed violently against my chest and bore into my shoulders with her fingernails.

"It was not your doing," I said emphatically into her hair. "There is only one person at fault, and that is whoever is committing these attacks. How were you to know your dream last night was a vision? You said yourself you hadn't had one in years."

Avrille shook her head and wrapped her arms around my neck. By now my pulse was racing, and I was questioning what I had gotten myself into. However, I kept holding her as she cried, guiltily savouring the warm press of her body against mine and wondering if she would have done this to anyone who tried to comfort her. After a few minutes, Avrille grew quiet but remained holding me tightly.

A quick rap sounded at the door. Avrille virtually jumped backwards, almost upsetting the chair behind her. Feeling rather as though we had been caught in an improper situation, I motioned for Avrille to stand back near the fireplace so she wouldn't be seen. I opened the door to reveal Minerva, looking just as harried as before.

"Severus, I'm glad I found you," she said. She was holding a roll of parchment in her hand which she unfurled as she continued, "The headmaster wishes for staff members to patrol the corridors these next few nights as a safety precaution. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking Christmas Eve. You don't have any plans, I presume?" Minerva eyed me inquisitively, knowing full well I never did anything on Christmas.

I cleared my throat. "No, that will be fine."

"Then if you could take the dungeons through the second floor from ten o'clock to half past two in the morning..." Minerva pulled a quill from her sleeve and jotted down a few notes before remarking, "Have you seen Mistress Asphodel? I checked her office, but she wasn't there."

"I believe she returned to her rooms to rest," I lied. "It appears this afternoon has upset her." Well, at least that part was true.

"Poor girl. If you happen to speak with her, will you ask if she would be willing to take a patrol shift? We really need all the help that's available."

"Yes, of course." With a curt nod, Minerva turned and hurried away. I closed the door, staring for a moment at the iron latch, listening to Minerva's clacking steps fade into the distance.

Turning back to Avrille, I said, "I'll speak to the headmaster about that. I'm sure he will excuse you."

Avrille's expression clouded, her eyebrows knitted together. "Why would you do that? I'm ready to help. I need to do something."

"I know you feel like you have to compensate for your vision, but I just don't think patrolling the castle at night would be the safest thing for you." I felt a twinge of guilt bringing up her magical problems, something I always tried to avoid so she never felt inferior to the rest of us. And perhaps deliberately counselling against the deputy-headmistress' instructions, wholly motivated by personal feelings instead of the students' best interests, was completely over-stepping my authority, but I did not care. There was no chance I was going to allow Avrille to be in any more danger than absolutely necessary.

Avrille's face darkened as I said this. For a moment I thought her eruptive anger would return, but then her shoulders and head sagged as though burdened by some insurmountable weight.

"I'm just completely useless, then, aren't I?" Avrille sank back into the armchair and stared vacantly into the fire. I can't even describe the intense yearning I felt to hold her again, but I knew that the time when that action could hold any semblance of comradely concern had past.

Instead, I moved to lean against my desk and offered, pathetically, "I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore can find some other way for you to contribute to the safety of the students." Avrille gave me a patronizing eyebrow raise then stood to leave. I couldn't let that be the last thing I said to her after she had trusted me with her confidence. I just couldn't let her leave like that because...

I loved her.

As soon as the thought flashed through my mind, I knew it was true. Despite my hardest efforts to keep a professional distance and protect myself, it had all been a lost cause. I loved Avrille more desperately than I had ever loved anyone in my entire life.

As she walked by me to open the door, I reached out and touched her hand.

"Perhaps it's not my business, but I sense there is something else behind all of this, something that is hurting you deeply." Avrille didn't say anything, her eyes focused on her right hand clasping the door latch. Her fingers that touched mine were trembling slightly. When she did not reply after a few moments, I dropped my hand to break our connection. "I just want you to know that..." I love you. Just say it. Say it. I love you. I can't endure seeing you suffer like this. "...if there's anything I can do to help you..."

"I really will be all right. I think I will go rest for a while, though." Avrille opened the door.

"If you feel like you need to talk more, please don't hesitate. My door will always be open for you, day or night."

"Thank you," she replied with a small smile and left.

I sat at my desk, feeling utterly wretched.

No, Avrille. I'm the one who is useless. Useless for being unable to ease your suffering.