The Last Sanguimagus

There was an itch, and Sarah began to emerge from the black void, consciousness returning to her slowly. The itch turned into a flash of pain as she tried to move her hand to alleviate it. She could not seem to open her eyes. They were dry and they hurt.

For a few moments more she lay still, feeling each breath fill her lungs. Her left hand ached too much to move, so she rubbed her eyes with her right, and when she opened them, she was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Not Das Herrenhaus. Where?

Images began to resurface, and she understood, then, that she was at Hogwarts. Her throat burned; her tongue felt too large for her mouth. She wanted to sit up. She felt nauseated; her left hand itched and throbbed.

She became aware of a rhythmic noise, and turned to find its source.

Severus.

She tried to say his name, but it resulted in more pain. Coughing painfully, she rolled onto her side, waiting for the spasms to subside. It was difficult to swallow, as her throat was completely raw.

She reached out with one hand and touched his shoulder. There was no response. She shook him a little. He murmured and moved slightly, and she worried that he looked so pale. He was still wearing the bloodstained remains of his robes.

She sat up shakily and had to close her eyes against the sudden lurching spin of the room.

When it had settled she stood up determinedly and went to the fireplace. An untended fire lingered there. She reached in her pocket for her wand, and found it empty.

No knife. No wand. She grabbed the foot of the bed for support. Things steadied after a few deep breaths, and she took his wand out of his pocket and approached the fireplace again. "Incendio," she said.

The flames barely reacted. She frowned. "Incendio!"

A flicker, and the flames were marginally higher. Throwing in a handful of Floo powder awkwardly, she stepped into the fireplace, saying, as best as she could, "Infirmary!" The whirling force caught her and dragged her, spinning her round, and she was nearly sick. When it stopped she fell right out onto the stone floor of the hospital wing.

She could not stop coughing, and she tried to bring herself up to her hands and knees, but her left hand was slick with blood and she slipped, falling to the floor again.

There was a gasp from somewhere in the room, and footsteps, and quite suddenly she was looking into Poppy's astonished face. "You're alive," said Poppy.

Severus. Sarah wanted to say his name. "Thebeweth..." she said, and winced.

"Let me get you to a bed." Poppy drew her wand and Sarah felt herself floating across the infirmary.

"Theb..." She tried again, but began to cough.

"Stop trying to talk," said Poppy. "Let me see your tongue." Sarah obediently opened her mouth. "How did you manage to scorch it so badly?" She uncorked a vial and poured it into a goblet. "Drink this."

It tasted like freezing rain, and it stung, but within moments the swelling was gone. "Severus," she said emphatically. "I couldn't wake him."

"I examined him last night," said Poppy, picking up Sarah's left hand and inspecting it. "He was in rather good shape, considering what he must have gone through. I was just planning on checking on him when you fell through the grate." She opened another vial and poured a few drops into Sarah's palm. Sarah bit back a yelp as the burning increased. "Once I've seen to you, I'll Floo to his room." She applied another potion. It felt as if her fingers were turning to icicles. "The damage is extensive." She frowned, looking closely. "I will heal what I can, but there is no doubt that there will be some scarring."

"Thank you," managed Sarah. She was feeling rather dizzy and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Drink this," said Poppy, placing another goblet in her right hand.

The taste was quite familiar. It was a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Sarah opened her eyes and looked at Poppy, who looked away. "Thank you," repeated Sarah.

Poppy nodded. "I'll check on Severus, now."

"I'll go with you," said Sarah, sitting up.

"You should rest."

"I feel fine now. I'd like to be certain he is all right before I return to my own room."

Poppy looked as if she wanted to argue further, but said nothing, and stepped to the fireplace. Sarah followed.

Severus hadn't moved. He was still splayed awkwardly on the bed. Poppy leaned over him, wand in hand.

Sarah noticed that the door to his office was open, and there was an odd scent emanating from it. She stepped into the room. It appeared as it usually did, except a large cabinet next to his desk that had always been shut before was open, and it was a bit of a mess inside, and there was a Pensieve on the desk, radiating ghostly light.

Then she looked through the next open door into his classroom.

The floor around his worktable was covered with some sort of vile black ooze. Desks and chairs on one side of the room were overturned. Cauldrons were on the floor, and broken glass and potion ingredients were scattered everywhere. There was a faint scent of rain overpowered by a burnt smell.

She stood for a moment, confused. Who had destroyed his lab? What had happened?

One cauldron was on the worktable, turned on its side.

He had brought her to the castle. Apparently he had made a potion as well, a potion that had burned her tongue, and her throat, and somehow restored her magic to her.

He had saved her life.

She turned away from the wreckage and went back into his room. His robes were on the floor, and Poppy was pulling a blanket up to his chest. He looked better, clean, relaxed in sleep, and she felt relieved.

"He'll be fine," said Poppy reassuringly. "He'll sleep most of the day. I'll check on him occasionally. I'll speak to the Headmaster about getting someone to watch his classes."

"His classroom is destroyed," said Sarah.

Poppy gave her a strange look and walked out to see for herself. Sarah could not take her eyes off Severus's peaceful expression. She had saved him. He had saved her. They were both still alive.

"There's no way anyone can teach a class in there today," said Poppy briskly. "I've sealed the doors. The fumes are too dangerous right now."

"I have no classes today," said Sarah. "My classroom is empty. I'll go to the Headmaster and arrange to teach the classes."

Poppy gave her an appraising look. "Very well," she said finally. "Just be certain to get plenty of rest tonight. Try to sit through the classes. I'll have Dobby bring you your meals." She left through the fireplace.

Sarah stood for a long moment, watching him breathe, wondering why he had done what he had done. She put his wand on the table next to the bed.

She left the dungeons, pausing in the entrance hall. It was nearly dawn. Soon light would be flooding the Great Hall and students would be rushing in for breakfast.

She owed her thanks to Severus for seeing another day. Another vow was broken, and she wondered what the consequences would be. She began to walk up the marble staircase, on her way to the Headmaster's office.

***

Harry noticed that there were two conspicuously empty seats at the Head Table as he sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"They're not here," said Ron in an ominous tone.

Hermione looked as if she had been crying. Her eyes were red. "She can't have died. She can't."

Neville looked at them oddly. "Er...I'm certain she's fine," said Harry.

"Who?" asked Neville.

"Professor Tanner," said Ron, filling his goblet with pumpkin juice.

"Professor Tanner?" asked Neville. "She's died?" He looked shocked.

"I don't know," said Harry. "I don't think so." He felt a little queasy. What if she had died? She had looked terrible last night. He couldn't stop thinking of the stretcher following Snape.

"I'm certain Snape helped her," said Hermione, but she didn't sound certain at all.

Ron's attention was focused across the room at the Slytherin table.

"If Madam Pomfrey couldn't help her, how could Snape?" asked Harry.

"I just..." She looked as if she was going to burst into tears again.

"They're fighting again," said Ron.

Harry turned to look. Malfoy was standing up, and seemed to be extremely agitated. His face was flushed and he was listening to Nott, whose back was to Harry.

"What's Nott saying?" said Ron.

"How dare you!" shouted Malfoy suddenly. It echoed in the Great Hall, and everyone stopped to stare at him. "After all he's done! When my father hears about this--"

Nott looked as if he were laughing.

Malfoy suddenly seemed to notice that everyone was watching him. He stood still for a moment, his face ugly and flushed, and then turned and left angrily.

"They stayed," said Ron in disbelief.

"Who?" asked Neville.

"Crabbe and Goyle," marvelled Harry. Owls began to swoop and soar through the hall, dropping packages and letters, and the Malfoys' eagle owl appeared and swiftly flew off in the direction that Malfoy had gone.

Harry looked up at the Head Table, where the teachers were talking to each other in their usual manner. Dumbledore saw Harry, and gave him a smile and a small nod. The tension began to ease.

"I think she's okay," said Harry. Ron still watched the Slytherin table intently, and made a noncommittal noise.

"Do you really think so?" asked Hermione.

Dumbledore stood and the hall became hushed again. "I would like to announce that Professor Snape has taken ill, and as a result all Potions classes scheduled for today will be meeting in Professor Tanner's classroom. I am certain that you will join the faculty in wishing him a speedy recovery." He sat down again, and McGonagall smiled reassuringly.

Some of the older Slytherins frowned.

"She's teaching class today, she must be all right," said Hermione, looking relieved.

***

Sarah finally gave up on transporting chairs from one of the abandoned classrooms and pulled all of the cushions out of the storage closet instead. Her classes had markedly fewer students in them, and she didn't have enough desks or chairs to accommodate all of Severus's students.

The first years filed in obediently, looking nervous. "Please take a seat," she said. "I don't have enough chairs so some of you will have to sit on the cushions."

Once they had all settled in, she closed the door. "Your assignment is to work quietly, rewriting the essays you were supposed to hand in today," she said levelly. "I am certain that you will be properly appreciative of the second chance to polish work"--the Ravenclaws looked ecstatic--"and you'll work quietly until the bell." She sat down.

The students began to rummage in their book bags and pull out parchment and quills. It seemed very surreal to Sarah. Only last night she had stood next to the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

Only last night she'd used the last nail.

Her recurring dreams were now a reality. She had nothing left, no hidden weapons, no last resort. In fact, at this moment she didn't even have a wand, or her knife. For all she knew they were still in the Forbidden Forest.

She had always been afraid of a trap, and she could feel it pressing down on her. She had been uncertain about coming to Hogwarts, and now she wondered if she had made the wrong choice. Only two months had passed, and already she had used all three nails, crossed paths with--with Lucius, and faced the Dark Lord twice.

Yet it had healed her. Severus had healed her. She had regained her mobility. No longer was she constrained by the use of Strengthening Solution or changing bandages. He had freed her from his cursed potion.

And now he had kept her alive. She wondered at his skills. To brew something so amazing...

One of the students had fallen asleep at her desk. Sarah decided not to wake her. Doubtless the Ravenclaw had been studying all weekend.

The stack of essays to mark was exactly where she had left it, and it was strange to think of how close she had come to never seeing it again. She realised that she had begun to think of this room as her room, this desk as her desk, these students as her students, and she felt a bit of pain when she thought that she might not have returned. It surprised her.

She picked up the first essay and began to read. It was odd to be marking essays with a quill and ink, but with no wand, but with her own abilities seemingly at low ebb, she was forced to make do. Her handwriting had not improved much, but she could make a recognisable mark, and she worked quietly.

Time passed swiftly, and the next class filed in. Sixth years, Gryffindors and Slytherins. A smaller class than the first. Advanced Potions. The students sat down at their desks, and she recognised a few from her own Talismans classes.

Draco Malfoy entered the classroom, and their eyes locked. Anger was plainly visible in the teen's face, and she was taken aback for a moment.

News certainly travelled quickly. She wondered who had survived the manticore's attack last night, and what story the wounded had used to receive treatment at St. Mungo's.

There would be some sort of retribution, of that she was grimly certain. If not for the Summoning of the manticore and Severus's rescue, then for the death of Macnair. Her stomach made a funny twist as she unwillingly remembered his face, the look in his glassy eyes, the rush of pain. "Is there something wrong?" she asked Malfoy quietly, challenging him, returning his gaze.

He grimaced and turned away, sitting down with the other Slytherins, who weren't much friendlier. She wondered how many of their fathers she had injured, and what it would mean in the future.

Potter, Granger, and Weasley entered, and they sat down, all three of them watching her closely.

She stood up and closed the door. "You will use this class time to rewrite the essays that were due today," she said, taking her seat again.

It occurred to her suddenly that she had no wand, no knife, and in front of her there was a group of almost-grown teens, nearly half of whom had family she'd attacked just the night before. A small stab of worry dug at her and she felt very vulnerable sitting there.

Nott's expression contained the faintest suggestion of a smirk before he pulled out his parchment and quill.

***

Severus dreamed.

Face down in the dirt, his only view is of boots. Black boots. Lucius's dark green boots are the only exception.

The pain of the Cruciatus Curse renders him dumb. He can barely draw in a breath. His sleeve has fallen up and bunches at the elbow.

"Should this traitor wear the mark?" comes a cold voice. "I don't think he deserves it. I don't think he should have that honour."

He struggles to sit up, but cannot.

Another voice. "My Lord, he mocks you with it." Rookwood. "Let me remove it."

"It is my Mark, Rookwood," says the Dark Lord. "I will remove it myself."

Pain begins in his arm, spiraling, building, until he is screaming...

He opened his eyes, gasping, sitting up quickly.

Hogwarts. His room at Hogwarts. He closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them. Still Hogwarts.

"Merlin," he whispered, and put his face in his hands, the relief overwhelming. A few minutes passed. He could not believe he was home.

Slowly he dropped his hands from his face, and took a deep breath, looking around at the familiar setting. Taking his wand in hand, he Summoned a robe from the wardrobe. There was no sign of the old one; the house-elves must have disposed of it. He went to pull it on over his head, and stopped, staring at his left forearm.

It was gone. The Dark Mark was gone. He could not look away for a long moment. When the Dark Lord had disappeared the first time, he could still feel it, just below the skin, an occasional tingle, the barest flash from time to time. But now it was completely removed.

He would never have to hide it again. It would never signal another horrible meeting.

He finished putting on his robes and flexed his arm experimentally. Something nagged him in the back of his mind. Something left undone. Something important. Then he remembered.

The bed was empty.

Sarah was gone.

He could only vaguely remember giving her a potion, the noise of thunder...he charged into his office. The Pensieve was exactly as he had left it, but his private storage cupboard was open, and it was a mess.

The door to his classroom was sealed shut. "Finite Incantatem!" he said, and opened the door.

He froze in shock.

A foul black paste covered most of the floor next to his desk. Cauldrons were strewn haphazardly on the floor, dented. Chairs and desks were scattered everywhere on one side of the classroom.

He looked in horror at broken glass and priceless ingredients, all ruined. Hundreds of Galleons' worth of supplies littered the floor. He clutched at the doorframe for support. His worktable was pitted and cracked down the middle.

It was several minutes before he was able to form a complete thought.

Someone had cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door, and taken Sarah, though he did not know whether it was in health or in death. He felt terribly short of breath, unbalanced, frightened.

He stepped out into the cool corridor that led to the entrance hall. Emerging from the top of the steps, he could see that it was dark out. The Great Hall's doors stood open, and it was deserted. Turning down the hallway that led to the first floor classrooms, he went to the door to her office, and opened it.

She sat on the couch with her back to the door, with the Headmaster sitting in a large comfortable chair next to her that he had no doubt conjured. Smiling, he stood up when he saw Severus. "Welcome home," he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Severus couldn't react. It was all too surreal. She was alive, his lab was destroyed, his espionage was done, and he had no purpose now.

"Headmaster," he said, his voice strangely hoarse.

"I have some pressing concerns at the moment," said the Headmaster, still smiling. "Perhaps after you're done speaking with Sarah you'll join me for a cup of tea in my office?"

"Certainly, Headmaster," he replied quietly.

"Good evening, Sarah, Severus." He left, closing the door lightly behind him.

"Severus..." she said uncertainly. He took a few more steps into the room. She had turned to look at him. She looked exhausted, dark smudges under her pale eyes, her left hand held close, ink smudges on the fingers of her right hand.

"Why?" He came closer, looking directly into her eyes.

"I assume you are referring to last night," she said.

"Of course I'm referring to last night," he said, softly, angrily.

"I wanted to help," she said hesitatingly. "I couldn't...it didn't seem right to abandon you there, to die."

"It was none of your business."

"No, it was not," she agreed.

"You had no right." His anger was building. He was trapped, trapped here at Hogwarts, and nearly every Slytherin would hate him now. It was only a matter of time before Lucius--before Severus would face difficulties from the Board of Governors.

"I did what I thought I should I do."

"Did you consider anything at all before you so foolishly left the castle?" he said softly. "No, of course not. You went boldly into the dark on a fool's errand. You brought yourself--and the Painstone--right to the Dark Lord himself on a silver platter."

"Yet here I am," she said. Anger was beginning to show on her face. "And here you are."

"Only through the most astonishing luck possible," he sneered. "Had it gone wrong, we would still be there, and you would be subjecting me to the tender mercies of your Painstone under Lucius's Imperius Curse."

"Very well then," she said coolly. "I'm sorry I rescued you. Next time I'll leave you for the Dark Lord to pound further into mincemeat."

"This is no game," he said angrily. He could feel heat rising to his face.

"Are you angry because I was nearly captured by the Dark Lord, or because I interrupted your plans for martyrdom?" she said furiously. "This is ludicrous. I had a choice. I decided to take a chance and help you."

"I didn't need your help," he seethed.

"Yes, how silly of me. You were lying on the ground unconscious, just waiting for the chance to strike." She rubbed her eyes with her right hand, looking drained. The palm of her left hand was bandaged.

"You have no idea what he is capable of," he said quietly, staring at the bandage. He paused. "What happened to your hand?"

She looked at him and he could sense shame suddenly in her eyes. "I killed Macnair," she said curtly.

Severus sat down in the chair, feeling as if all of the air had been sucked out of his lungs. When he finally was able to speak again, he asked, "How?"

"The Painstone." She looked down at her hand, suddenly tense.

"You killed him with the Painstone," he said.

She only nodded, closing her eyes.

He studied her face, noting how tightly her jaw was clenched. He felt sick inside, knowing that she had killed to save him. "You should never have gone."

She opened her eyes, looking tired and wan. "I made my decision. I did what I had to do. You are still here. I am still here. The time for should have or should not have is past, and unless you conveniently have a Time Turner in your pocket, there isn't much more to be done about it."

"This will have far-reaching repercussions," he said flatly. "You can't think it's all over. You've killed a man. With a Dark Artefact, no less. The Death Eaters will come after you."

"Yes."

"How you even found us--them, is beyond me."

"A blood locator spell," she said, flexing her bandaged hand slightly.

He remembered then. "It felt as if a moth touched my shoulder at one point," he mused. "That, I assume, was the spell?"

"Yes," she said. "It's still there, actually, though it's rather faint at this point..." She stood up and approached him, laying her hand on his shoulder. A moment or two passed, and suddenly his skin felt chilled when she took her hand away. The faintest smudge of blood appeared on her palm. She showed him. "Thestral blood. I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough power."

"You killed a thestral?" he asked, stunned.

"It isn't difficult," she said, reaching automatically for her wand and stopping halfway. She sighed and sat back down, holding her hand so that it wouldn't smear blood on her robes.

"Where's your wand?" he asked, puzzled.

"In the Forbidden Forest somewhere," she said. "You must not have picked it up when you brought me to the castle. My knife is there, too. I'll ask Flitwick if he can Summon them for me tomorrow morning."

He stood up immediately. "I'll retrieve them for you." She looked at him hesitantly. "I'm perfectly capable of casting a charm," he said, bristling as he left, walking through the front doors.

A storm was brewing. He could feel the wind rising. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Accio Sarah's Wand!" he said. For a few moments he held the spell, and the wand came whistling through the air. "Accio Sarah's Knife!" he said. "Impedimenta!" The knife stopped in midair and he took it.

He heard the sound of massive footsteps, and realised that Hagrid was approaching. "Good evening, Hagrid," he said.

Tears were streaming down Hagrid's face, and he pulled an enormous handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. It was deafening.

"What is the matter?" asked Severus.

"Someone's...someone's killed Undarum!" wailed Hagrid. "I'm just goin' to tell Dumbledore...jus' awful..."

Hagrid had found the thestral that Sarah had killed. Severus nodded and held open the door for him, and Hagrid made his way towards the marble staircase.

Re-entering Sarah's office, Severus handed her the wand and knife. She took them from him with obvious relief and put them both in her pocket. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said.

"Thank you for the potion, as well," she said. "I owe you my life."

He did not want to thank her for saving his life, because then it would seem as if he condoned what she had done. "Yes, well, I must be going to the Headmaster's office."

She nodded, and he left, feeling offbalance.