A Merciless Affection

Obligatory Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. Fan-fiction is all in fun. Besides, it wouldn't be worth it to sue me--I don't have any money.

A/N: Sorry about the long delays lately. All my good intentions have come to naught. On the other hand, I am more or less "caught up" on this story, even if I'm writing at a slower pace than before. So I thank you all for your patience!

I'd also like to give special thanks to my reviewers. Your input makes sticking with this story through thick and thin a lot easier and more enjoyable for me. And extra thanks to Cecelle and Lady Whitehart for their willing and helpful beta-ing. (Congrats to Lady Whitehart on getting Honorable Mention in the Sycophant-Hex Death Day Festival for her story "Meant to Be...Enemies?"!)

It's time for a little change of pace, after all these chapters of stress, strain and theory. I hope you enjoy. :~)

Chapter 48: Try to Forgive

Sarah would have been happy to stay indefinitely in the Potions master's quarters. But apart from the fact that, at some point in the night, Severus would be summoned to meet with the Dark Lord, there was also the problem that at least one person (contrary to Dumbledore's assertion) would be very curious about where she was.

Angelina.

The girl had come down after her last night. Based on where they had encountered Angelina, she had probably gone first to the hospital wing and, not finding Sarah there, had proceeded to search for her further downstairs. If she had been so discombobulated by the news that her formerly half-ignored dorm mate was pregnant that she would risk breaking curfew to find out more, it was going to be almost impossible to avoid her for very long.

As much as Sarah had come to prefer the refuge of the hospital wing, it was the perfect place for Angelina to corner her and demand more information before she had worked out a reasonable story. Only the constant presence of other people would prevent the girl from questioning her on the spot. And the only place that afforded the company she needed in order to avoid that was Gryffindor Tower.

Sarah went up to the hospital wing shortly before dinner, not entirely sure that Madam Pomfrey would concede to her moving back into her dorm room. But when she came through the double doors, it was clear that the medi-witch had enough other patients to worry about. The six beds at the far end of the ward were occupied. Five of them were students. Sarah thought she recognized Potter's friends, Ron Weasley--who was heavily bandaged--and Hermione Granger. The other boy must be Neville Longbottom. There were two other girls as well, one with red hair (wasn't there a Weasley sister in Gryffindor?) and the other with long, pale hair. All of them seemed to be asleep or unconscious.

And in the sixth bed lay Dolores Umbridge.

Sarah flinched when she saw the woman, fearful of being subjected to another tirade or even blamed for what had happened. But Madam Pomfrey was leaning over to check on their erstwhile headmistress, and the response she was getting showed that Umbridge was in no frame of mind to berate anybody. When the medi-witch called her by name, the dumpy form on the bed made only vague groaning noises. Pomfrey reached out to pluck something from the woman hair, but at the touch, Umbridge's arms began flailing about. This did not, however, seem to revive her, and when Pomfrey drew back, she lapsed into the same incoherence as before.

All the same, Sarah waited patiently for Madam Pomfrey to finish, coughing softly so that she would notice her.

"What's the matter?" The medi-witch bustled over to her, her face set in a determined frown, as if she expected nothing but more disasters.

"I'm fine," Sarah assured. "I was just...thinking about moving back up to the dormitory for the rest of the year. It seems a bit...crowded here." She let her eyes go pointedly past the other woman toward the densely occupied end of the ward.

"I suppose I no longer really have any good excuse for keeping you here, with exams over. Goodness knows you look well enough now. But I expect you to take care of yourself properly and come back if you feel at all ill." When Sarah gave her promise, Pomfrey added, "You can send my...equipment...back by owl when you're finished with it."

Sarah took her leave of the hospital wing and its matron, with a whispered word of thanks that felt more earnest than she expected it to. Carrying her few accumulated possessions in a bundle, she made her way (slowly) up to Gryffindor Tower, praying she didn't run into Angelina alone anywhere along the way.

* * *

As it turned out, she managed to elude a private conversation with her dorm mate well into Saturday afternoon. Although Angelina gave her several meaningful and questioning glances, both at meals and in their room, Sarah managed to engineer her own comings and goings to ensure that the two of them were never alone. She even pretended to be asleep late that night (not that she could sleep, for worry) when the other girl called to her in a whisper.

Severus looked reasonably pleased with himself at breakfast on Saturday, and Sarah assumed that his interview with the Dark Lord had gone well. But she was desperately anxious to hear the details. It was frustrating that she dared not go down to his room until everyone else was soundly asleep...if then.

What could she tell Angelina?

After lunch, Sarah went out onto the grounds, sitting and soaking up the warm afternoon sunshine, trying to work it out. She was having a difficult time trying to find some reasonable excuse that would have taken her via Portkey (she could not assume that Angelina hadn't heard the pop) to Gryffindor Tower, but back downstairs on foot...not to the infirmary, but in the direction of the dungeons.

A set of footsteps scuffing through the grass approached and did not pass by. Sarah looked up. Her time for thinking was over.

"Want company?" Angelina asked, a little uncertainly. Sarah had tried not to be obvious in avoiding her, but she must have noticed.

"Of course." Forcing a grin, Sarah patted the ground next to her, and Angelina folded herself down onto it.

"It's hard to believe that we're really finished," Sarah said wistfully; she wanted to try to set the direction and tone of this conversation herself. "Did you say you were going to work for your mum?"

"Yeah. Unless I miraculously get an owl from the Holyhead Harpies."

Honestly unable to evaluate Angelina's Quidditch skills, Sarah could only say, "I guess we can hope? I mean, you were captain."

Angelina shrugged. "The evaluators were here a lot earlier in the spring. And I haven't heard a thing. I won't mind working with my mum. There's worse things than making charms." She paused for a long moment, her expression hesitant. "What about you? Or are you going to try to tell me I was imaging things the other night?"

That would be the most convenient thing. But she had as much as admitted her condition to Angelina that night. And even if she hadn't, she did not think Angelina would believe her.

"No, you weren't imagining things."

Angelina was studying her apparently flat stomach. "How are you hiding it?"

"Magical girdle." If they had been closer for longer, she might have shown it off.

"Wicked. But does Pomfrey know? How can she not?"

"Of course she knows. I couldn't keep that from her, all these weeks in the infirmary."

"Did she tell on you?"

Good question. Come on, Sarah, what's the answer?

"Well, she sort of had to. But she and McGonagall agreed that this close to the end of the year, it wasn't worth expelling me. And she'd hardly want to tell Umbridge anyway."

"Do you think she'll tell Dumbledore, now he's back?"

Sarah shook her head. "I hope not."

"But what about you? What are you going to do? You said you'd broken up and..."

"We made up."

"But his family? Your aunt? I....well, I suppose you won't tell me now who he is?" Angelina frowned sheepishly.

"He'd never forgive me," Sarah said, shaking her head. "Anyway, his family does seem to be getting over it. My aunt is another matter. But at least his family is going to help us now. It really will be all right." Please, let it be all right.

"I hope so." Angelina looked dubious. "I just don't understand why you'd let this happen, Sarah. With your families and all. And he'll still be at Hogwarts for...a year? two? Gads, I hope you're not robbing the cradle any worse than that."

"I didn't exactly do this on purpose, Angelina! I didn't know how to prevent it--"

"Really?" Angelina was surprised. "You should have asked me!"

"I didn't know there was anything to ask about! I grew up with a maiden aunt, remember?"

"But you know Potions..."

"I know. But by the time I realized it.... I know it was foolish, but I just couldn't...well, do away with it." Sarah grimaced genuinely.

"And your boyfriend's okay with becoming a father when he's still at school?"

"He didn't exactly have a choice, did he?" Except for Imperius and Obliviation. "He accepted the idea. Pureblood families are always worried about getting heirs."

"And so his family really has accepted you?" Angelina still looked doubtful.

"Well, despite the fact that I'm a Gryffindor myself, I am one of the last members of a very old Dark Wizarding family. And since I'm carrying their family's heir, they can hardly kick up too much of a fuss."

"You're going to live with them?" The other girl was appalled.

"Well, no. I got a Potions apprenticeship. They're just going to take care of the baby until..." think fast, Sarah, "until we can be properly married."

"So he isn't marrying you yet?" The disapproval was obvious.

"Well...we'll be married this summer, but obviously we can't live together yet, you know?"

"And they're letting you do an apprenticeship? I didn't think pureblood families allowed things like that."

"I sort of...insisted." This was getting further and further from the truth, and it made Sarah uncomfortable. The safest lie was always the one that was nearly true. "I didn't want to live with them until he--my boyfriend--is there to protect me."

"But you're trusting them with your baby?"

Sarah sighed in frustration. "Angelina, I know this situation. I know what I need to do, okay?"

Angelina grimaced. "I hope so, Sarah." Then she asked the question Sarah had hoped she would not: "Where's the apprenticeship?"

Tired of lies--and worried that Angelina might discover this one all too easily--Sarah admitted, "Here at Hogwarts, actually."

"Really? Even though McGonagall knows...I mean, she'd still recommend you?"

Damn, she had forgotten that little twist! Her brains were turning to mush...not a good thing in her current situation.

"Well, she didn't know when I applied. And it's not really for her to say, as it's a Potions apprenticeship. And as well as I'm sure I did on my Potions N.E.W.T., I could get an apprenticeship anywhere. But this way I get to stay at Hogwarts, so we don't have to be, well, you know, separated."

"So you're still going to risk being caught? An apprentice with a student?" Angelina was incredulous.

"I won't get caught. I haven't been caught."

"What about Snape the other night?"

"He only caught me in the halls, not doing anything else."

"I'm surprised he didn't cancel your apprenticeship then and there. In fact, I'm surprised he's taking on an apprentice at all."

"No more surprised than me," Sarah said.

Angelina's face had taken on a thoughtful expression, and now she leaned her chin on her hand. "You know, for a minute there the other night, I almost got the impression that you had snuck down to meet Snape. Which is the most awful idea." She grinned in mock disgust.

Sarah leaned on her own hand. "Yes, Angelina, that is a really awful idea." One you should not have in any way, shape or form.

A little too much earnestness must have leaked into Sarah's voice, in spite of her attempt to keep her tone light. Or else, even without that trigger, something had finally clicked in Angelina's brain. Because Angelina's eyes widened and her grin faded.

"You hadn't, had you?" But the note of panic and the growing comprehension in the girl's eyes made it plain that she would not be fooled by further lies, no matter how comforting. "My God, Sarah, it's Snape you've been meeting?"

Sarah put a finger to her lips, glancing around in dismay. Fortunately, no one was near them. Fortunately, too, Angelina took the hint.

"How could you...the things you told me..." Her voice was lower, but there was a hint of hurt in it.

"I could hardly tell you the truth, could I?" Sarah protested.

"But...Snape?" Her posture had stiffened, and there was real disgust on her face. "How could you even let that greasy git touch you?" An even more awful thought seemed to occur to her. "Was it to get the apprenticeship?"

"No! How could you even think I'd do that?"

"I don't know." The girl frowned. "I'm beginning to wonder if I even know you at all."

Now it was Sarah's turn to feel hurt.

"I've never made any comments about the boys you've gone with, Angelina."

"Boys, Sarah. Not...you know Snape could get sacked for messing with a student?"

"You promised me you wouldn't tell!"

Angelina lowered her head into her arms, which were wrapped around her knees. "Okay," she said after a moment. "I promised. But I don't understand, Sarah." She raised her head just enough to fix Sarah with a puzzled gaze. "It isn't just that he's old, or a teacher. He's...Snape. You know: mean, hateful, spiteful?"

"I do know. But...I'm not sure I can even begin to explain." Sarah sighed.

"Did he, well, hex you or give you a potion or something?"

"He saved my life, alright? On Halloween night, during the Potions field trip. I can't tell you any more about that, because I promised the Headmaster I wouldn't. But he saved my life."

"And that's how he demanded you repay him?" Angelina was aghast.

"No! Look, Angelina, there's more to..." No, a simple exaggeration of the truth would be better than trying to convince the other girl of the Potions master's hidden qualities...even if she could think of any. She grimaced. "My mother did some kind of magic to me when I was little. And when he saved my life, it triggered it. We had to fall in love with each other."

From the expression on Angelina's face, she seemed both unconvinced that Severus Snape was capable of falling in love with anyone, spell-compelled or not, and appalled that Sarah had fallen prey to such a spell. "You couldn't get someone to break the spell?" she asked. "Or did the spell keep you from wanting to? Are you still under it?"

"No, I'm not. And it wasn't that simple of a spell," Sarah said. "Even if it were, who could we have gone to? As you said, he would be sacked."

"Even though it was a spell?"

"By the time we figured out it was a spell, we didn't...well, we didn't want to stop."

Angelina wrinkled her forehead. "That must have been some spell, Sarah. I mean, don't tell me you really enjoyed...."

Sarah was out of patience. "Okay, I'll tell you the truth, Angelina. The spell didn't make us do anything. It just made us notice each other. And yes, I did enjoy it. A man doesn't have to be handsome or nice or...or anything to be worth knowing or...or being with."

This muddled but earnest defense seemed to have more impact on Angelina that any of the sensible half-truths Sarah had given her so far. The girl sighed, frowning in reluctant acceptance.

"You're sure about the spell?"

"Yes!"

"I'm half-tempted to drag you back to Madam Pomfrey to make sure. I know I promised." Angelina held up her hand. "I'm just worried that someday you'll come to your senses and think 'Oh, no! What have I done?'"

"I've already been through that stage." Sarah couldn't keep an ironic smile from twisting at her lips. "What I really need you to do is never tell a soul. I mean it, Angelina," she said, when girl looked as if she wanted to equivocate. "It isn't just me and Snape who would get into trouble. Can you imagine what the Ministry would do to Professor Dumbledore?" Sarah privately imagined that, after Thursday night, that danger was probably past. But Angelina might not realize that, and it might help her keep her mouth shut this time.

"Okay, I see what you mean," Angelina said. "But that would be the wildest piece of gossip ever."

"Angelina! I thought I could trust you!"

"Alright, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about before. I've already promised. I'll promise again if you want. I won't tell a soul." The girl crossed her heart.

Sarah let out a tense sigh, and the two girls sat looking ruefully at each other for a long minute.

"Um..." Angelina raised her eyebrows. "So...was anything you told me true?"

"In a sense." Sarah winced in guilt. "Although it's really my family who is most upset."

"They know?"

"Yes, but they have good reason not to tell anyone. Don't ask what--you wouldn't want to know, I promise."

"Has he got family?" Angelina's incredulity was blatant...and understandable. Sarah would never have imagined....

"Yes, and they're nicer than you'd imagine." She was not, however, about to give out any details: the fewer people who knew that Severus Snape had grown up in Knockturn Alley, the better.

"Are you going to stay with them for the summer, then? Or stay here? Well, no..." Angelina corrected herself. "I guess you couldn't do that. Or.... Who do Pomfrey and McGonagall think the father is?"

Sarah hated to tell Angelina any more lies, but this one was necessary. "A Muggle boy named Michael who lives in my aunt's village. And yes, he's taking me to stay with his family for the summer."

Angelina shook her head. "That is still just so...weird to contemplate." The girl's eyes strayed to Sarah's innocent-looking stomach. "When will you, you know, have it?"

"In August."

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

Angelina shook her head, lowering it back into her arms. "Honestly, this weirds me out more than I can say."

"Maybe it's better if you just don't think about it."

The girl huffed softly. "You're so right. I think I'd better just imagine you with the Muggle boy."

"It isn't like you and I will see each other again after this week," Sarah pointed out. "Except by accident in Diagon Alley."

"That's really awful to think of, isn't it? After all these years in school together, taking it for granted, and now we have to make special efforts just to--"

"Miss Darkglass?"

Sarah froze at the sound of the voice behind her. Neither of them had heard him come up. She truly hoped he hadn't been standing there very long. Not that she would have been able to keep the gist of this conversation from him, but she would have preferred to skim over the details. She turned her head slowly, expecting him to be furious.

"Yes, Professor?"

His expression was one of those puzzles--not precisely angry, more concerned, and yet upset as well.

"The headmaster wishes to see you in his office," he said curtly.

Sarah could not help glancing at Angelina, wondering what the girl must be thinking. The look Angelina shot back asked a multitude of questions: are you finally caught? or is this an excuse for (oh, horrors) a tryst? how can he? right in front of me? how can you? what if...?

"As entertaining as I'm sure your conversation is," his tone was acid, "your attendance is required at once."

"Yes, sir." Sarah scrambled awkwardly to her feet. "Later, Angelina?"

Angelina's eyes remained wide, and her answer was the shortest of nods.

* * *

Sarah knew better than to ask Severus anything as they crossed the grounds, although she was fairly bursting with anxiety over what he might have heard. Having to wait--possibly for hours--before he exploded at her was far more nerve-wracking than if he had been able to shout at her immediately. And surely she would have to warn Professor Dumbledore that Angelina had guessed the truth. Would it be necessary to Obliviate the girl? She didn't think, somehow, that Dumbledore would do that to anyone, if there were any way to avoid it.

What could Dumbledore need to speak to her about? Threads of panic ran through her, wondering if last night's interview with the Dark Lord had gone less well than she had thought. But a surreptitious study of Severus's expression and posture didn't suggest that sort of bad news. Had the headmaster decided firmly to give him the Dark Arts position? But why bring her in to discuss it again?

Her thoughts bouncing like rubber balls, she followed in the Potions master's wake, only vaguely aware of occasional pitying glances from other students. And all the while, Severus led her along with a muteness that was curious even for him, saying nothing to her, even when they reached the entrance to the headmaster's office. Was this taciturnity simply because he was angry with her? Was he afraid of losing his temper where anyone might see or hear something they shouldn't?

"Ah, Severus...and Sarah," Dumbledore greeted them. He looked less weary and frail than he had yesterday morning, but his expression was grave. "Please, Sarah, sit down."

She sank into the chair, her puzzlement growing when Severus took up a station behind her rather than sitting himself. More curiously still, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Headmaster," Severus said, "You should know that Angelina Johnson has become aware of our...connection. Or so I must suppose," he added sourly.

"She guessed it for herself," Sarah admitted.

Professor Dumbledore studied her over the tops of his half moon spectacles. "I will speak to Miss Johnson. Do your other dorm mates suspect anything?"

"No." Sarah shook her head firmly.

"Then leave the matter to me." He aimed this comment more particularly at Severus. But his attention returned quickly to Sarah.

"I am always sorry when I must call a student into my office to report unhappy news. And I regret it all the more, since this is not the first time I have done so with you." The headmaster's voice and expression conveyed real sorrow, and Sarah found herself thinking involuntarily of another day, more than six years ago...icy cold crept through her, even before the headmaster went on. "This morning I learned that your aunt, Portia Plattus, was found dead in her home yesterday afternoon."

Sarah felt as if she had been struck unawares by a Stupefy spell. Aunt Portia. Dead.

"What happened?" she asked numbly. Aunt Portia was never ill. Did my defection affect her so badly...?

"It would appear," Dumbledore said carefully, "that she was murdered."

"Why would anyone...?" Sarah stiffened. "Did the Dark Lord...?"

"Not to my knowledge," Severus said.

"Then who...?" Even I never wished her dead...

"That remains unknown," Dumbledore said. "The Auror who investigated the incident believes that Death Eaters may have been involved, although no Dark Mark was left over the house. That would not be surprising, however, since up to now they have been attempting to keep their activities secret, rather than flaunting them. And certainly the spell used to kill her was Avada Kedavra."

Sarah leaned her forehead on her hand, her mind awhirl with horrible thoughts. "Was she...did they torture her?" She felt Severus' hand tighten on her shoulder.

"Most likely not, from what I understand."

Sarah breathed out a strangled sigh.

"However, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have been unable to determine why she would have been a target. Her body was found by a friend who had come to visit her. A Mrs. Catharine Catchlove. Do you know her?"

Sarah nodded. Another older woman, an old school friend of her aunt's, who came to tea with some regularity.

"She insists that Miss Plattus had no known enemies. And while your aunt's disapproval of your recent behavior would not make her a friend to any Death Eaters, there is also no obvious reason why she would be the target of an attack. Unless you know something we do not?" Dumbledore asked. "When was the last time you were in contact with her?"

"Months ago." Sarah shook her head. They would never have a chance to make things up now. Aunt Portia had died hating her. Or at least thinking she was impossibly foolish. I hurt her, and now I can never make it up....

"And you know of no reason why anyone would kill her?"

The word 'no' was on the tip of Sarah's tongue when a realization struck her, like a neglected potion blowing up in her face.

"Oh, no," she whispered. Tears came to her eyes, white hot. "Dear God, no!"

"What is it, Sarah?" Dumbledore's query was gentle but firm. But she could hardly hear him for her own sobbing.

"It's my fault! Oh, no." She covered her face with her hands. It was unbearable that anyone should see her. She was a horrible person. Horrible!

"How could it be your fault?" Severus asked impatiently. But then, suddenly, he said, "Nott. Damn it!"

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

But it was Sarah who answered, the words gasped out between sobs. "I told...Uncle Franklin...about the...the money.... I made him...promise...to give me a...a thousand Galleons."

"And clearly," Severus finished rancorously, "he decided there was a solution that did not require him to loosen his own purse strings."

"Money was involved?"

"Portia Plattus, in an attempt to control--or at least punish--her niece's behavior, cut off her allowance."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Yes, I recall now that a sum of money was part of the agreement that Sarah was forced to make with Franklin Nott and Bellatrix Lestrange. And you believe that your uncle, in an attempt to avoid making that payment, murdered your aunt?"

"I didn't have to ask for the money," Sarah said, still in tears. "I just...I didn't want to be a...a burden. If I hadn't...." Dear God, no!

"Sarah," Dumbledore urged gently, "there was no possible way you could have guessed that your uncle would take such an action."

Sarah shook her head frantically. "I should have known. I should have realized."

"You had not seen the man since you were nine years old," Severus interrupted.

"Indeed," Dumbledore went on, "you were in a very difficult position. Kidnapped and threatened, no one could expect you to consider every possible outcome."

"Yes, they could!" she denied. "Severus would! It's my job to consider every possible outcome. And I didn't...." She lapsed back into sobs.

This time, the headmaster remained silent.

"Sarah..." Severus began.

"No, Severus. Let her cry it out."

With a small, impatient noise, he made to draw his hand away from her shoulder. But she caught it and held it, pressing it to her damp cheek.

It was not very long before the chill of grief and the sharpness of guilt gave way to the fires of anger. Uncle Franklin will pay for this! It was with a jolt that she remembered Franklin Nott was already in Azkaban.

Sarah sniffed back the last of her tears and lifted her eyes to Professor Dumbledore. "How can I make sure my uncle is held responsible?"

"I will report this information to my contacts in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Dumbledore said. "It may be necessary for you to make a statement."

Sarah nodded.

"We need to consider carefully what it is safe for her to say," Severus pointed out.

"Yes, of course. I hope the investigation will be able to proceed without that. However," Dumbledore added, "there will be a great deal of legal business to conduct, with respect to Sarah's inheritance. If you will permit, Sarah, I shall make arrangements for these matters to be taken care of quietly and with as little fuss as possible."

Sarah nodded again, hardly able to consider what might be involved.

"If you feel the need for more time to collect yourself before you go back among your fellow students, you are welcome to remain in my office. I cannot, however, promise to entertain you." Dumbledore's eyes, though expressing real regret, twinkled faintly. "I have been too long absent, and I have a great deal to catch up on."

"Perhaps some tea?" Severus suggested, more to Dumbledore than to her.

"Yes, of course."

In a few minutes, Sarah was settled in a squishy chair in front of the fireplace, with a cup in her hand. The warm liquid sliding down her throat at intervals was the only thing that seemed real. The headmaster was reading through a tall stack of papers on his desk. She half-expected Severus to excuse himself, but he was leaning against the mantle, staring into the low flames with a grim expression.

"You don't have to stay with me," Sarah said quietly, predicting his impatience. "I know you have exams to grade."

"I wasn't thinking of examinations."

"I'm quite alright now. Or I will be in a minute," she added, as he turned and saw through her words.

"Will you?"

Sarah took a deep breath and looked away. "How do you bear it?" She would not have asked such a bitter question, but the very little he was pressing her seemed suddenly too much. "Knowing you're responsible for someone's death?"

She heard the faint scratching of the headmaster's quill pause for an instant and then go on.

"You hardly intended--" Severus said sharply.

"I know. I just--" She looked up.

His eyes were blazing.

"Don't assume that you have ever experienced--"

"Please," she begged, "don't speak harshly to me. Not now." Tears rose to the surface again. "I'm sorry. I know you've done worse things, but...."

He turned back to the mantel abruptly. But in a moment she saw his shoulders drop ever so slightly.

"It is more difficult to bear," he whispered. "When you do harm you never intended."

A/N: Up next--finally leaving Hogwarts. Didn't think we'd ever get there, did you? ;~)