The Last Sanguimagus

Severus descended the stairs in a whirl of black robes, still thoroughly annoyed at the idea of Silas Marten joining the Order. As the gargoyle finally made its last turn he impatiently pushed forward and nearly flattened Sarah, who was attempting to enter.

"Excuse me," she said, walking slowly past him to the stairs. The gargoyle swung shut behind her, and he paused. There was something different about her.

Her eyes. She had looked at him for only a moment, but it had been long enough. As a Potions master he had a keenly developed sense of colour, and though the difference was quite subtle, he could still see it.

The Strengthening Solution. Her addiction was progressing.

What to do? He could barge in and confront her in front of the Headmaster. Then again, Dumbledore probably already knew. Or he could wait for her. No doubt she was verifying his story at that very moment. Not that he blamed her; it was a rather suspicious situation, and it did look quite convincingly that he was still a loyal Death Eater, though his allegiance should have been obvious to her the moment he took her to the castle instead of back to the Dark Lord.

He did not have to wait for long. She emerged from the staircase looking tired.

"I would like to speak with you," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Very well," she said, waiting.

"In private," he added.

"Ah." She paused for a moment. "Perhaps tomorrow--"

"Now." He fixed her with a harsh look.

If there was any emotion on her face at all, it was mild puzzlement. "Why?"

"Because," he said, trying to hold his temper in check, "there are things to discuss."

"If you insist."

"I do," he said, turning and walking off, suppressing the urge to look over his shoulder to be certain that she was following. He waited in the Entrance Hall as she navigated both flights of stairs, and, turning, began down the stairs to the dungeons.

He heard her behind him, her steps faltering and pained.

He went into his office and closed the door after she entered, gesturing towards a chair. "I would prefer to stand," she said.

He sat down behind his desk. "I will get straight to the point. Your eyes have changed colour." She looked around, presumably for a mirror. "You won't be able to tell...suffice it to say that it is very subtle, but it is there." He sneered at her. "So now you really are addicted to that blasted potion. Still think you can handle it on your own? When the Ministry is alerted to this, you'll be out for certain."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, she was as implacable as ever. "I am not addicted," she said.

"You are close enough that there is little difference," he said coldly. "It will be obvious soon enough. Give me the last of that solution. I will destroy it for you."

"No," she said. "There is very little left...I need it."

"To make the withdrawal more bearable."

"Yes."

"Tell me," he said menacingly, "why you would take such a dangerous, habit-forming potion in the first place? You must have a very good reason to risk your sanity and your health. I can't believe that you would throw them away lightly."

She looked as if she was weighing options in her head. Carefully she sat down in the chair, wincing. "Why should I tell you?" she asked him.

"If information about your condition was leaked to the Daily Prophet...or to the Ministry...it would be a disaster. I can't allow you to bring further harm to Hogwarts or the Headmaster. They are already investigating us. Both of us." He looked at her closely, noting the barest tremor in her left hand. "For Merlin's sake, stop being so damnably stubborn. You know what would happen if Silas found out about your potion habit. And I've been seen interacting with you so often that he would drag me into it as well...he would probably accuse me of being your supplier."

She looked at him warily. "Has he...threatened you?"

"Yes," he said. It could not hurt to be truthful, though most likely Silas's amateurish efforts would end with his induction into the Order. "I have known...another in a similar situation. I can help."

She seemed to consider it for a moment. "I'm not certain why you want to help me," she said.

He stared at her in disbelief. "You still don't trust me?"

She looked at him evenly. "It is a matter of survival. I rely upon myself. If I can't get myself out of a situation..."

"What?" he said irritably. "What is this nonsense?" He leaned forward. "You've already taken advantage of the Headmaster's offer of sanctuary. Obviously you can't rely entirely upon yourself."

She looked away. "What is it you want in return?" she said quietly.

"In return?" he asked, surprised. "You can't be serious. If I help you I can possibly avoid further suspicion...not to mention that the withdrawal symptoms are unpleasant and I would rather not have to explain to the students why their professor is lying on the floor vomiting black bile."

"Yes, there is that," she said thoughtfully.

"Where did you pick up this little habit?" he asked, wondering if she would answer.

"It is a necessity when..." She looked at him and frowned slightly. "Since you know what I am, I suppose it won't make much of a difference." She paused, as if composing her thoughts. "A Sanguimagus uses blood. I had to create something recently that required a moderate amount, and I only had myself as a source. It was enough of a loss that I couldn't hope to function afterwards. Hence the Strengthening Solution."

"Why didn't you just take a Blood-Replenishing Potion?" he asked, confused.

"Of course you would say that, with an entire lab full of ingredients, and the ability to brew whatever you want, when you want."

"I'm quite certain Poppy has a supply on hand as well."

"Yes, and I can imagine that conversation. You need what? Because you're doing what?" She looked even more tired. "There is no logical reason to request that particular potion. She might have even guessed that I'm a blood witch."

"Poppy is a Mediwitch, and can be trusted with things of a...confidential nature," he said, thinking of the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Perhaps," she said simply. "Within reason...but for this, I would rather not take the chance. That is why I did not stay long in her Infirmary...if she had seen the wounds on my back...if she had guessed..."

"So you purchased the solution in Poland," he said, thinking. "Before the Dark Lord caught up with you, trying to find the Painstone." He paused. "Your Polish brewer did not have Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

She seemed uncomfortable. "He did," she said quietly.

"Then why..."

"I could not afford it." The faintest blush of shame appeared on her face, but was gone quickly.

"Ah. You bought Strengthening Solution instead, then, as it is more economical."

"It's complicated," she said quietly. "I have no income, so I was forced..."

"No income?" he frowned. "You have no money?"

"Perhaps a few Knuts at this time," she said quietly. "It is quite understandable, after all, as I have no occupation."

"Your family worked in the Ministry..." he mused. "Your father, I recall...surely you receive some stipend?"

"I don't wish to discuss this further," she said, and there was an edge to her voice that surprised him.

"So your potion-brewing friend gave you the solution," he said. "Rather kind-hearted of him."

"I never said that he gave it to me," she said, her tone tightly controlled.

"Ah," he said. "I see." He paused, wondering what she had offered the brewer. "As I said before, I have seen another struggle with the same addiction...I have a potion which will help allay some of the worst symptoms."

She stood slowly. "Thank you."

He stood as well and retrieved a small vial, coming around the desk to hand it to her. "Three drops twice daily," he said, placing it in her hand. "No more, or you'll develop some nasty side effects."

She took the bottle and placed it in one of her pockets. Looking up into his eyes, she nodded. The pale green that he had come to know had gained a yellowish tint that would be apparent to no one but himself. He needed to do everything in his power to keep it that way. If Fudge found out that Dumbledore had hired an addict, it would be all over the Daily Prophet. "Good day," she murmured as she slowly made her way out of his office. He wondered what blood magic she had been working.

He stood there for some time after she left, lost in thought.

***