A Merciless Affection

Chapter 12: In This Labyrinth, Where Night Is Blind

The Knight Bus let her off in Hogsmeade at dawn. She didn't have the energy to drag her trunk up the hill just yet, lightened or not, so she left it in a corner of The Three Broomsticks with a promise to Madam Rosmerta that it would be gone by suppertime. It was icily cold outside, and by the time she had reached Hogwarts, she was thinking longingly of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. But as she stomped the snow off her boots on the stones that had the mopping charm, Professor McGonagall emerged from the shadows.

"Miss Darkglass?" Her Head of House wore a grim expression. Not a good sign. "Ah, it is you. Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office immediately."

Sarah's heart raced as Professor McGonagall led her up and spoke the password to let them in. The fact that McGonagall had clearly been waiting for her arrival...that the headmaster had been waiting for her...it did not bode well at all.

"Ah, Sarah Darkglass," said Professor Dumbledore, as McGonagall excused herself. "Please sit down. You look as if you could do with a peppermint." He handed her one, and she felt obliged to pop it in her mouth. "Nothing seems quite so terrible after a peppermint."

Sarah let the mint roll around on her tongue, concentrating on the flavor, wondering if the candy might be laced with some type of calming potion. But the mint was strong enough to mask anything else, if it was there. Last time he had offered lemon drops.

"Now," Professor Dumbledore began, "I understand that you've had some type of quarrel with your guardian."

"With my aunt." How did he know that? What did he know?

The headmaster took out a small scroll and handed it to her. "I received this from Portia Plattus at five o'clock this morning."

Sarah unrolled the parchment, dreading what it might say.

Albus, it began, in her aunt's spidery hand, punctuated here and there by sharp, heavy underlining. My niece is no longer welcome in my home, and she should not be expected to return here during the Easter holidays or at the end of the year. Perhaps her other relatives will take her in, but I will not concern myself with arranging for it. Since she is of age, she can arrange matters to suit herself. (signed) Portia Plattus.

P.S. In future, please keep better control over your staff.

Sarah gulped down the shards of peppermint she had crushed between her teeth. It was not as bad as she had expected, although the postscript would surely raise questions.

"You are, of course," said Dumbledore, "always welcome to remain at Hogwarts during the holidays. I am sorry that this has happened, after everything else."

Sarah, who had scarcely dared to look at the headmaster, raised her head. Did he remember? What did he remember? His eyes were an astonishingly brilliant blue, more so than she remembered, and gentler than she felt she deserved, especially after the past twelve hours.

Dumbledore went on, "Your aunt was very vague about the nature of your quarrel, but the implication that someone on the staff has contributed to it concerns me. Are you aware to whom she's referring?"

"No," Sarah answered, perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean..." She would have to fabricate something plausible before the headmaster could come anywhere near the truth. And yet it was suddenly very hard to lie, even knowing that she had to. But no, it was not entirely a lie. "She's unhappy with a decision that I made, and she's convinced that one of my professors must have had an influence on me."

"And is that the case?" Dumbledore asked. For a moment, there was something in his glance, something knowing. As if he knew everything. As if he were asking her quite a different question. Such as, Who tempted whom?

"No," Sarah said, knowing this at least to be true. "I made my own choice."

Professor Dumbledore looked at her silently for a long minute, his hands folded over his lengthy beard.

"I am really very concerned about you, Sarah. Who, besides your aunt, do you have to go to?"

Sarah grimaced. "My father's sister married a Nott. I suppose her family are the only other relatives I have."

"You don't wish to go to them," Dumbledore queried perceptively.

"No, I don't," Sarah admitted. "I...I planned to get an apprenticeship anyway, at the end of the year. I'll manage somehow."

His eyes took on that shrewd look again.

"If you are in some kind of trouble, Sarah, I want you to know that you are always free to speak to me about it."

"I'm alright, really I am." And what will happen when I have to sit here later on this year and explain that I'm going to have a baby? It wasn't likely that Madam Pomfrey would fail to take a thing like that to Professor McGonagall, or that Professor McGonagall would keep something so serious from the headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded to himself for a moment, then got up and went to the door. Sarah readied herself to stand up, expecting to be dismissed. Instead he opened it a crack and said, "Professors?"

When Professor McGonagall entered the office, Sarah began to feel slightly concerned. What more did her Head of House have to do with this, if her conversation with the headmaster was over? But when Professor Snape came in behind McGonagall, Sarah knew that her problems were only just beginning. She looked to Professor Dumbledore in alarm, wondering why he would go through such a charade. There was a somewhat sad smile on the old man's face.

"Well, Severus, she refuses to implicate you," he said. "You may find that encouraging."

McGonagall snorted faintly.

He had told. He had told Dumbledore everything.

Everything? Dear God.

Was she about to be expelled? Was that why Dumbledore had been so concerned whether she had someplace to go? Was there no way out of this?

Just lie. There's nothing left to lose.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," she said, cursing the unsteadiness of her voice. "Why would I blame Professor Snape for my aunt's throwing me out?" She shot the man a quick look of pure venom. Yes, you know that it was your fault. Happy? But his infuriating expression of quiet satisfaction did not change.

Dumbledore shook his head. "When I received your aunt's letter this morning, since you had not yet returned, I decided to contact the one person on the staff to whom your aunt was most likely to take offense."

"Professor Snape," Sarah murmured.

"Yes. And I'm afraid that Professor Snape was able to make it only too clear exactly what had happened." The sad smile had changed to the hint of a frown. "I do understand why you would not want to confess the details of the situation to me. But this is a very serious matter indeed."

What kind of lies has he told to protect himself? To see to it that I'm expelled and he isn't sacked? No wonder he looks so smug.

"I'm not sure," she said, "that you know the whole truth, Professor Dumbledore."

With an expansive gesture, Dumbledore said, "I am certainly willing to listen to whatever you have to say."

Sarah took a deep breath. As she tried to formulate a response, she realized that there was nothing she could say that would protect her. She could try to deny that there had ever been any relationship between them. But if the note itself was not incriminating enough, her aunt would undoubtedly back up the fact that Snape had come to see Sarah. And even if it were not for that, she was hard-pressed to think of any motivation she could accuse Snape of having for fabricating the whole tale. He was known for being unfair, but never this unfair.

And then, of course, there was the fact that she, at least, had promised never to say anything to anyone. It would be like him to have secretly set up a curse that would react to the broken confidence.

Sarah let her eyes drop to her lap. "I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore. I made a promise to keep silent about this, and even now, I'm not sure what I can say." She looked at Snape, and said, as nastily as he might have himself, "I suppose this is your idea of torture?"

That at least wiped the smug look off his face. "Hardly," he said snidely. "You never wish to see that."

It was almost too tempting to say something, anything, promise or not, curse or not, so long as it made sure he fell right along with her. But she had no idea what lies he had told, and therefore no idea how to attack them, and she was not about to embarrass herself further by broadly discussing the intimate details of their relationship in front of Professor McGonagall (whose mouth was a thin, angry line), let alone Professor Dumbledore.

Sarah turned back to the headmaster. "What...what is going to happen now?" What actually happens when you get expelled?

"Well, you have put us in something of a quandary."

"To say the least," interjected McGonagall. "If Portia Plattus takes this to the Ministry now, Albus.... Even if she does nothing more than complain to her friends, you know how gossip spreads...."

Dumbledore raised a hand to interrupt her. "She will be far too ashamed of her niece's conduct to gossip about it. I know Portia Plattus well enough to know her prejudices. And despite that jab at me in her letter, I suspect that she puts the real blame for the situation entirely on her niece. Am I right, Sarah?" Appallingly, the headmaster's eyes twinkled.

Sarah was too amazed to reply.

"It has not been adequately resolved to my satisfaction," Professor McGonagall said, "just who is to blame."

Could it possibly be...? Was McGonagall defending her?

Dumbledore glanced over at Snape before he replied. "So far as I am aware, such relationships usually require mutual consent. Unless you are suggesting otherwise, Minerva? Sarah?" Dumbledore turned to her for confirmation, and this time she found her voice. Barely.

"It was..." Sarah's head was going round and round in perplexity. If Dumbledore didn't think that she, alone, had acted wrongly.... But clearly Snape was not being sacked.... "What did you tell them?" she finally demanded of the Potions master.

"I told him everything," Snape replied evenly.

"The truth?" Sarah insisted.

"As difficult as you undoubtedly find that to believe, yes." He did not break down in the staring contest she had challenged him to. If anything, it was Sarah who found it difficult not to look away.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore guided the conversation back on track, giving Sarah an excuse to change her focus, "I have no reason to believe that it is at all helpful at this point to assign additional blame to one or the other."

McGonagall glared at Snape as if she would be quite happy to accuse the head of Slytherin of taking advantage one of her Gryffindors. "What about the fact that Professor Snape is a teacher at this school?" she asked pointedly.

Dumbledore did look uncomfortable at that. "Minerva, in the fourteen years that he has been on the staff, have you ever known Professor Snape to engage in anything resembling an inappropriate relationship with a student before now?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Not to my knowledge, no," she admitted.

"And have you ever had any trouble with Sarah in the past?"

"Sarah Darkglass has always been very well-behaved. We've never had any difficulty with her. Which is why this comes as such a shock." Sarah shrank in her chair. McGonagall's disappointment in her was palpable.

"In fact," McGonagall went on, "my original intention was to suggest that we should inquire further into this very irregular incident. Their relationship seems to have begun shortly after Halloween. It's possible that they may have encountered some sort of spell that night...."

"I assure you," Snape interrupted, "that is the first thing I thought of."

McGonagall looked irritated. "All the same, I think we should make sure."

Dumbledore nodded quietly. "I hope neither of you have any objection to that?"

Sarah shook her head.

"If it will make you feel better, Professor McGonagall," Snape offered snidely.

It seemed doubtful, from her expression, that anything would make McGonagall feel better, but she wasted no time throwing a spell-detecting charm. She took several minutes analyzing the results before she finally shook her head.

"Nothing. At least nothing that would explain this. Although there is something a little odd about Miss Darkglass--a sort of...layer of protection. Not exactly a spell, but..."

"A residue," Snape said. "Of hundreds, maybe thousands of charms Sarah's mother cast on her during at least the first nine years of her life. And there is your explanation, if you require one."

"I don't understand." McGonagall's eyebrows drew up.

"You pride yourself on knowing all of your students. What do you remember about Sarah Darkglass? Or should I say, what did you remember before you looked in your files this morning?"

McGonagall opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was obviously kerflummoxed. As if suddenly realizing how she looked, she shut her mouth. Finally she said, "When a student has never given me any difficulties...."

"I suppose you don't recall her first month here?" Snape challenged.

"Of course that was a difficult situation. And so unexpected. Julia Plattus was always such a meek little thing. Although Malcolm Darkglass was a terrible rake. For it to end so very badly...."

"So, you remember two students who left Hogwarts over twenty years ago, two students who weren't even in your House? And yet you have difficulty remembering any details about their Gryffindor daughter, whom you have taught for the past seven years? A girl whose first year here began with her mother's suicide. Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?"

"What are you suggesting?" McGonagall's voice was quavering, and she looked at Sarah as if to confirm to herself that the girl actually existed.

"It is obvious to me that the residue left by the charms has made Sarah...not exactly unnoticeable. That would have been discovered before now. But it deflects some amount of attention from her. Makes her difficult to remember."

"That's...that's terrible."

"Is it, Minerva?" Dumbledore said. "Although I will admit that Sarah may not have been given as much continuing consideration as her situation required. And for that I am sorry, Sarah."

Sarah grimaced. She did not like to be reminded of what had happened to her mother. What if people had kept reminding her?

Dumbledore went on. "You know the watch that I keep on children of known or suspected Death Eaters. And I had intended to keep an especially careful eye on Sarah, for other reasons of course, after her mother's death. I discovered this morning that, despite my best intentions, I have not done so. Undoubtedly Severus is correct in his assessment. But whatever attention she has been deprived of, this residual spell has also apparently kept her from any particular notice by Malcolm's old associates. And that is something for which to be grateful."

"Then how," said McGonagall, recovering, to Snape, "did she come to your attention?"

But it was the headmaster who answered first. "It seems," he said thoughtfully, "that the danger they experienced together has somehow exempted him from the effects of the residual spell. To suddenly find Miss Darkglass noticeable must have had a significant impact. Perhaps on both of them. There may have been more to it than that, but how much is due to her mother's efforts to protect her we may never be able determine. People do sometimes fall in love without magic you know, Minerva."

Fall in love? No, never that. Sarah glanced uneasily at Snape, but his attention was on Dumbledore and his eyes were unreadable. The headmaster was probably too old, and undoubtedly too good, to envision other motivations than love.

McGonagall still looked unhappy. "It would just be easier to accept if I knew they'd had no choice in the matter. The rules about relationships between teachers and students are very strict, and with good reason."

"What do you expect me to do, Minerva?" The headmaster sounded almost...tired. Then again, if he had been awakened at five o'clock this morning.... "I agree with you: under ordinary circumstances, I would have let Severus go immediately, a point that I made quite clear to him earlier. But these are not ordinary circumstances. His position within Voldemort's ranks is always precarious. If he were to be sacked, his value--as Voldemort's spy inside Hogwarts--diminishes dramatically. Voldemort seldom tolerates failure in his servants, and the least terrible penalty would be a swift death. Can we risk that?

"Also, remember the scrutiny we are under at present. To dismiss a teacher now, for any reason, would be seized upon instantly as evidence of my incompetence for having hired him in the first place. And undoubtedly the Ministry would attempt to fill the empty position with their own candidate. No," he shook his head, "this matter must be handled very carefully indeed.

"And for that, I am afraid, much depends upon Sarah." He fixed her with his blue, blue eyes.

Sarah was stunned. She had just learned more of significance about Snape in two minutes than she had in the past two months. She had tried to tell herself that his Death Eater days must be behind him. If that were possible for anyone who had been caught in that web. And if not, it didn't matter did, it? Because she didn't love him. But now... A spy for You-Know-Who? And yet Dumbledore knows it.... She had a bad moment of wondering if everyone had gone over to the dark. But she couldn't believe that. If Dumbledore yielded, there was no hope at all. There was obviously a larger and more complicated game being played.

Dumbledore seemed to be aware that her attention was wandering, and he waited until it came back before he went on. "You have been very discreet thus far. If the circumstances were appropriate, I would say commendably discreet. You must continue to be so."

He turned to Snape. "You have the special license?"

Snape drew a folded square of parchment from an inner pocket and handed it to the headmaster, who scanned it carefully.

"Ah, good. The signature as well. I was concerned about that. Any evidence of my knowledge of this would be hazardous. I assume your contacts will be able to slip this into the Ministry's files just as quietly?"

Snape nodded.

"So, there's just the ceremony left."

Unable to view the writing on the paper from where she was sitting, Sarah stood up and peered over the headmaster's elbow. She was almost certain of the contents even before she saw them. The parchment was headed by the fancy scrollwork that proclaimed it to have been issued by the Ministry of Magic. She saw her own name, neatly entered by some clerkish hand, along with another name that featured still more of those copperplate S's. At the bottom of the page was a scrawl of a signature that she could not make out, beside a shimmering red stamp that read NOT YET FORMALIZED.

"You meant it," she whispered, although in the silence it sounded very loud.

"I meant it," Snape said, just short of a snap.

Sarah sank back down into the chair, wishing she had one of the Weasley twins' fainting pills. Swooning seemed the appropriate response, but her body was too strong and sensible to cooperate with any ephemeral sense of the fitness of things.

"Are you sure this is really wise?" McGonagall asked. Sarah had doubted, up to now, how much her Head of House had been told. But the lack of surprise at the document in Dumbledore's hands hinted that there had indeed been some discussion between the three of them before Sarah arrived.

"Under the circumstances, and considering Miss Darkglass's condition, I hardly see that I can do otherwise." Sarah winced. So Professor Dumbledore knew about that, too. Snape had not held back on any humiliating detail. "Since I cannot safely dismiss either of them, and since I would prefer not to have an illicit affair continue as an illicit affair within these walls, something must be done. Also, it may be easier to maintain the necessary discretion with our cooperation than without it."

Dumbledore refolded the paper and put it away in his robes. "It would be best, I think, if no one else knows that Miss Darkglass has returned to school before term time. No one else saw her arrive? Good. Minerva, please see to it that her things are sent to Professor Snape's chambers. She can remain hidden there until the rest of the students return. Once she is back in her dormitory, other arrangements will be made. Madam Pomfrey will also need to be informed of the situation, under strictest confidence of course. I believe she has the means of keeping certain things hidden from the other students."

McGonagall nodded in acquiescence, although she was still frowning.

"Please remember," Dumbledore added, "that this situation, however undesirable, is not without its benefits."

"I do not like the risks to yet another of my students," McGonagall answered bluntly. Something else, Sarah realized, that must have been discussed in her absence.

The impulse to run had been growing all the time that she listened to Dumbledore making unwanted arrangements for her future. Now she slid forward to the edge of her chair. "Risks?"

They all turned to her, all with different expressions, all equally difficult to read. McGonagall seemed a bit distraught, under her bristle of displeasure. Professor Dumbledore wore that sad smile again. And Snape...Snape was hardest to read of all. If she didn't know better, she would think he was distraught as well. But since that was impossible, he must simply be angry, although at what, she couldn't tell. It was a change from his mood thus far.

Dumbledore spoke quietly. "While your relationship must remain a secret at Hogwarts, it need not necessarily remain one from Lord Voldemort." It always startled her when the headmaster spoke You-Know-Who's name aloud, and now it turned her marrow to ice. "It can only be pleasing to him that Severus has been able to seduce a student, undetected, under my very nose. And not just any student, but the daughter of Malcolm Darkglass, who died for the cause. Voldemort appreciates martyrdom to the extent that it indicates loyalty to him. The last member of the Darkglass line would be welcomed by him."

"I would never..." Sarah began to protest.

"Headmaster," Snape interrupted, his voice taut, "I would prefer to tell her the rest myself."

"Very well," Dumbledore allowed. "Now, I expect that Sarah would not care to be married standing in her damp traveling clothes. Or without even having had breakfast. Can you take care of her, Minerva?"

"Yes, I will." The firmness of the answer was not very promising, from Sarah's perspective.

"I believe Professor Umbridge has returned to her home, at least for this week, so it will be safe to use the internal Floo system. If you can return by, say, eleven o'clock?"

"Eleven o'clock, then. Come along, Miss Darkglass," Professor McGonagall said. She urged Sarah toward the fireplace.

Sarah took up a handful of Floo powder. She felt trapped. Could she escape from the castle this way? Or not? And where would she go, if she did? She shot Snape a last glance, willing those dark, uneasy eyes to recognize her anger, wondering if she also wanted him to see the despair. It was his fault, all of it.

Then she threw the powder down. "Professor McGonagall's office!"