The Last Sanguimagus

Back in the cold sanctuary of her office, Sarah examined the vial Severus had given to her. It was small, containing amber-coloured fluid, and there was spidery writing on a yellowed label that she couldn't quite understand. It seemed to be in some sort of personal shorthand. She remembered that he'd said three drops, twice daily, so she didn't really need to know what was written there, but she did find it interesting that he had his own private code.

Severus. She set the vial down on her desk. He was a confusion of emotions to her. He seemed cold and distant, cruelly sarcastic...yet had helped her now on more than one occasion. It had been a relief to hear Dumbledore's assurances that he was truly a double agent.

The indecipherable label piqued her curiosity, as did its maker. It was as if he was two people at once. The image of Severus had burned in her memories for sixteen years with his cold, sneering face, and his impervious black eyes. He was a strange foil to the Severus she knew now, who moved with such authority, who seemed to have become someone new.

Of course, he had to feel the same dichotomy about her. She had seen the flicker of guilt that occasionally moved in his eyes. It was just as difficult for him to be near her; probably more so, because his emotions were not being tamped down by using a Painstone.

But how much of this was real? He could be playing both sides, just waiting for the last battle to side with the victor. She sighed. Trust was not the easiest thing for her now, but she could at least try. He had certainly made the first move. Bringing her back to the castle instead of to the Dark Lord at great personal risk was a hazardous thing to do. He had brewed an antidote to his awful poison...and now this vial. All of this could be explained logically, but she thought that there might be something else there, some genuine thought of repentance on his part, though she was still a bit skeptical.

Opening the bottle, she took three drops, a step towards trust.

***

The library seemed empty and odd without Hermione.

Harry sighed as he turned pages, trying to find another use for Ashwinder eggs. The words were not cooperating. Somehow it just didn't seem that vital at the moment.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. Somewhere Voldemort was planning another attack, deciding just how and when to try to kill him or his friends. Yet again Hermione had been hurt trying to help him, and he felt guilty.

He fingered the amulet that Professor Tanner had made for him. It was slightly warm. He had been very careful to not take it off as instructed. He'd had no unsettling dreams, no irrational moments of extreme anger, no visions. Occasionally he felt some surge of emotion, but otherwise, Voldemort was a blank wall to him, implacable and distant. The attack yesterday was a shock, and he felt unsettled.

Ron looked at him. "Something wrong?"

"No," said Harry quickly. "Just wondering if Hermione will be missing any classes tomorrow."

"I hope not. You know how she gets." Ron grimaced. "Plus then we'd have to take notes."

Harry thought for a moment. "I wonder...Do you think that hex they used on Hermione was blood magic?"

Ron shook his head. "Pomfrey said it was a Dark Curse...a spell that poisons the blood."

"True." He absently flipped another page. "I wonder if that would affect a Sanguimagus."

Ron snorted. "It would affect anybody with blood, I'd say." He scribbled another line of his essay, an intense look of concentration on his face.

Harry couldn't stop thinking about it. The hex had almost killed Hermione. Madam Pomfrey had apparently stayed up all night leaching the poison out of Hermione's system.

He was relieved that Professor Tanner had returned, but he wondered how she had gotten away. Maybe her blood magic had protected her. Maybe Voldemort had really bad aim last night. Maybe she ran away really fast.

He picked up his quill and went back to his Ashwinder egg essay.

***

Severus was tired. He sat down at his desk and looked at the mound of essays that still needed to be marked. He opened the red ink and took quill in hand, poised over some hapless first year's monstrously misspelled work.

Normally it gave him a grim sense of pride to neatly dissect each incompetent statement, but his mind was simply not focused on the task at hand. There were so many things to worry about that he found himself continually distracted. It was only his own stubbornness that forced him to progress through the stack until he had finished just about half of it.

Leaning back, he dropped his quill on his desk, flexing his hand to work out the cramps. Looking at the time, he realised that dinner was very nearly about to begin.

Spelling off the last vestiges of red ink, he strode off towards the Great Hall. Most of the students were already seated and eating dinner. The staff table was half full, and he noticed that the Headmaster and Minerva had not arrived yet. Aurora also wasn't there, and he nodded civilly at Pomona as he sat down. Looking out automatically towards the Slytherin table, he noticed that Draco looked uncharacteristically subdued. Nott was talking to Pansy. Ah...jealousy. He nearly smirked. Draco's eyes suddenly connected with his own, and he was surprised at the amount of emotion the young man was feeling. Then again, if Pansy's affections truly had been transferred to Nott...and if Nott was asserting himself somehow within the Slytherins...Draco's response certainly would be predictable.

He wished that he had more time as of late to check up on his House, but his current situation precluded it. He looked past Draco to see Sarah entering the hall.

The puzzle of Strengthening Solution was solved now, and he could not help but fret. He hoped fervently that she had taken the potion he gave her. He cut into his steak with a frown. He couldn't even be certain that the remedy he had given would help, considering that she'd been taking a stronger version of the Strengthening Solution, fortified with Re'em blood.

Re'em blood.

Something about that made him think. He began to construct a new version of the antidote to the Lingering Wounds Potion in his head. He rearranged the ingredients...added a drop of Re'em blood...made subtle changes to the timing...

It clicked into place. He suddenly understood what had been going wrong all this time--why it had not been stable. Throwing his napkin on his plate, he stood up and strode out of the hall towards his classroom.

***