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Darkness and Light 2: Personal Risks by RJ_Anderson [Reviews - 4]

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Darkness and Light 2: Personal Risks
by R. J. Anderson

Chapter Four: Without Rest

"I don't know why she came to me instead of you," said George. "I was just heading for the Portrait Hole when she dropped out of nowhere and landed at my feet. When I picked her up, she was already dead..."

Maud bowed her head over her cupped hands, holding Athena's tiny, lifeless body against her heart. The signs had all been there, she thought miserably. Why hadn't she seen them?

"...and I knew I had to find you, tell you. There's a map of Hogwarts -- Harry's got it now -- that can show you where anybody is..." An awkward pause. "So I came."

Her throat was still too tight to let her speak. She nodded.

"Do you think... did someone do this to her?"

Maud shook her head. Athena was no longer young, and between the shock of being caught in Muriel's hex and the unaccustomed effort of flying in the cold and rain, her heart had simply given out. She must have known she was dying, to have gone to George. Finding him had been Athena's parting gift to her mistress, a final act of loyalty and love.

Slowly Maud drew her wand, held it suspended over the little owl's body. "Petrificus corpus," she whispered, and the soft feathers stiffened into stone. Now nothing could harm Athena, and she would be safe here until Maud could return and give her a proper burial. Carefully, though gentleness was no longer necessary, Maud stooped and laid her down between the gargoyle's paws. Then, blinking back her tears, she turned to George.

"Help me," she said hoarsely. "Please. Athena knew -- I've got to get to the Owlery."

For a moment George hesitated, and she feared he was about to argue with her, or at least ask awkward questions. But then she heard his shoes scuff against the stone as he moved toward her, and his arm slipped around her shoulders.

"All right," he said. "Let's go."

Gratefully she clung to him as he led her down the corridor away from Dumbledore's office. His arm felt surprisingly strong, hard with muscle and not at all like Snape's leaner, wiry frame. She supposed it must be from all that Quidditch -- George and Fred were Beaters, if she remembered correctly, which meant a lot of heavy hitting. Or at least it had done, until Umbridge banned them from the game.

Which reminded her... she might as well tell him now. Anything to get her mind off what had just happened, or what she was about to do. "A couple of days ago," she said quietly as he guided her up a set of creaking wooden stairs, "you asked me why I don't come out to any Quidditch matches."

"What?" said George, clearly nonplussed. "Oh, that -- it's nothing. Forget it."

"No, I owe you an explanation." In fact it was the least of what she owed him, especially after this: but it was a start. "I did try to watch Quidditch once or twice, when I was young. But Athena could never figure out where to look. She kept following the wrong players, or getting distracted by a Bludger when someone else was catching the Snitch. And of course there was no way to explain the game to her. The whole thing was just an exercise in frustration for both of us. So I gave up."

"Daft git," said George in a disgusted tone, clearly meaning himself. "I should have thought of that my-- "

The word trailed off in a hiss: he jerked her behind him, into a narrow embrasure. For one wild second Maud wondered what was going on; then she heard voices coming down the corridor toward them. She held her breath as they came nearer:

"I've told you, Minerva, it's not our place to interfere." It was Professor Flitwick. "If Dumbledore wants to address the issue, no doubt he will--"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," said McGonagall's voice crisply, "has quite enough on his mind these days. As do we all, without this sort of nonsense going on. When Severus returns--"

"You're going to tell him?" Flitwick sounded alarmed. "Do you really think it wise?"

"Of course I do. He's the one who'll have to deal with it, after all..."

They turned the corner, and Maud could feel the taut muscles in George's back relax as the professors' voices faded into silence.

"All right," he whispered to her. "Coast clear." Looping his arm around her waist, he pulled her out of the alcove and they hurried on.

"What were they talking about, do you think?" asked Maud, although she had a sinking suspicion that she already knew.

"Dunno. Some Slytherin or other, probably--" George stopped. "You're not the one in trouble, are you? Am I assisting in a felony?"

"No," said Maud. At least, she added to herself, not yet.

"Pity," said George. Then, in a hopeful tone, "Do you think we could commit one anyway?"

He was teasing her, she knew, trying to lighten her mood. No doubt he thought the best thing would be to take her mind off Athena, give her something to laugh about; and ordinarily, he would have been right. But he didn't know about Snape, lying alone in the forest, ragged and bleeding and no doubt frozen half to death--

"Hey," said George. He crooked a finger under her chin, lifted her face up. "Don't look like that, Maud. We're almost there. Everything's going to be OK."

It was an obvious cue, and any ordinary young woman, especially one as desperately in need of comfort as Maud was right now, would have closed her eyes and let herself be kissed. George was funny and charming and surprisingly considerate, and there was no reason in the world for Maud to turn her face away...

She turned her face away. "Thank you," she said softly.

George took it in stride, as she had known he would. "Distressed damsels our speciality," he said in a jaunty tone, and she heard the creak of old hinges as he pushed open another door.

That it was the door to the Owlery became immediately plain, as the stale reek of bird droppings assaulted Maud's nostrils. She coughed and rubbed her face against her sleeve as George led her into the cold and draughty room.

"Now what?" asked George.

"I need an owl," she said. "The smallest you can find, but one that looks fairly calm."

"All right." He let go of her shoulders, and she heard him shuffling about the room, occasionally making disgusted noises as his foot hit a slippery spot. "Flipping 'eck, it's freezing up here."

Maud hugged herself, shivering, and waited until he came stumbling back to her. "Found one," he said. "I'm not sure if it's calm or comatose, but here it is." With gentle fingers he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then set the owl down on her shoulder. Its talons gripped her, bigger than Athena's and no doubt sharper as well; but the bird sat its new perch lightly, and she felt no pain.

Now, she thought, for the moment of truth. She had never tried this before with an untrained bird: in the absence of the special magical preparations that had made Athena a successful seeing-eye owl, the linking spell might work poorly, or erratically, or not at all. Maud raised her wand, swung it in a circle around her head, and said in a clear voice, "Iungo."

A few awful seconds passed in darkness. It's not working, thought Maud frantically, and then, but it has to. It has to.

Light glimmered at the edges of her vision, then began to spread, like the dawning of a ghostly sun. The image that painted itself across her mind, little by little, was dark and indistinct -- a round tower room lined with shadowy perches -- and seemed strangely dislocated, as though she were looking at the world from an unfamiliar angle.

The new owl must be taller, she realised. This would take some getting used to. And the link between them was primitive at best: when she turned to look at George, she could barely make out his features. She could only hope that her vision would become more acute with time.

"It worked," she said, putting her hand into George's and squeezing it gratefully. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Are you going to be OK?" he asked, his brows knitted in concern. "You're white as an ashwinder. For a minute there I thought you were going to faint."

"I'm all right. Just... thank you." She hesitated, then leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. "I won't forget this."

George grinned, his teeth a white flash in the half-light. "No worries. Neither will I."

Maud turned to go then, but he caught her arm. "Wait a minute," he said. "Where are you going?"

Part of her longed desperately to tell him, to enlist his help. To venture out alone, half blind, into the darkness, searching for a man who was at least seriously injured and perhaps -- no, don't think it -- dead, knowing that even once she found him it would be a long and painful journey back to Hogwarts, was almost unbearable.

But if her suspicions were right, and Snape's injuries were the result of covert activity, he would not want anyone to know that he had been hurt. And showing up to rescue Snape with George Weasley in tow would betray her alliance with both men -- not only to each other, but possibly to the rest of Hogwarts as well. She could just imagine Snape trying to explain that one to Voldemort.

Despairing, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, George. I can't tell you. But there's not another moment to lose -- please -- just let me go." When his grip failed to loosen she added frantically, "Some day, soon, I swear I'll do my best to repay your kindness to me. But not now. Not-- NOW!"

With all her strength she wrenched free of his grasp, flung herself through the door (alarmed, the owl flapped its wings and hooted a protest) and clattered down the stairs, her black robes flying behind her. "Accio cloak," she panted as she ran. "Accio muffler. Accio gloves."

What Maud's dorm-mates might think when her trunk flew open and her possessions began zooming out of the room, she tried not to imagine. But it would hardly do Snape any good if they both froze to death.

George must have finally got the picture, because he didn't seem to be following her. Maud slowed down as she neared the front doors of Hogwarts, relieved to see the garments she had Summoned gliding toward her. She caught the cloak in mid-air, swirled it around her shoulders, and flung the green-and-silver Slytherin muffler about her throat. Then she shoved the doors open and stepped out into the cold.

* * *

"That's enough!"

Alastor Moody's voice cracked through the room like thunder, taking Maud by surprise. She barely had time to look up at him before he seized her arm in a bear-like grip and wrenched her to her feet.

"Uncle--?"

"Don't argue with me, girl! I'm sick of your lies." Inexorably he propelled her toward the door, his wooden leg thumping like a magistrate's gavel. "You might be able to get around Dumbledore, but don't think for one instant that you can fool me!"

Belatedly realising the part he intended her to play, Maud began to struggle against his grasp. "You can't do this!" she gasped. "My parents--"

"--would shudder in their graves," Mad-Eye raged theatrically, "if they knew what a poisonous little serpent their daughter had become! Don't talk to me about responsibility, girl. You've come of age now; I'm done with you. And good riddance!"

He shoved her out on the step, so hard that she staggered and nearly fell. She could see the next-door neighbour's curtains twitching as her uncle continued to shout in a voice loud enough to be heard the full length of the street:

"Get out! OUT! And so help me, if you ever try to come back--!"

Then the door slammed, and she was alone.

* * *

The moon had finally battled free of the clouds, and the icy rain was slowing. The grass crunched beneath Maud's feet as she ran across the grounds and down the long slope toward the Forbidden Forest.

For all she knew, Umbridge or one of her spies might be watching from the windows of Hogwarts: but she had no time to spare on concealment. Already her preparations had taken too long, and Snape might even now be breathing his last. The thought made her stomach clench, and she redoubled her pace.

She slowed down as she neared Hagrid's hut. Firelight glowed warmly through the windows, and the owner's huge, hairy silhouette was visible inside. Did she dare to involve Hagrid? Though she had only met the half-giant a couple of times, she had sensed that in his own way he was a friend to Snape: at times he even appeared to regard him with a sort of proprietary affection, as though Snape were some fabulous monster. But on the other hand, although Hagrid seemed kind-hearted, he was not renowned for discretion...

Maud wrapped the cloak more tightly about her shoulders and hurried on.

The moment she set foot in the forest she wished she hadn't. The trees loomed above her, their black, bony arms intertwined so closely that they blocked all but a few dim rays of moonlight. Maud had taken only a few steps before she stumbled and twisted her ankle, nearly falling headlong before she could grab an overhanging branch to right herself. This was madness, she thought frantically. The forest was too dark, the visual link was too weak -- she'd never find Snape at this rate.

She limped forward a few more feet before the extent of her own stupidity became clear. Disgusted with herself for not thinking of it before, she wrestled her wand free of her robes, held it up and said, "Lumos."

Radiance burst from the wand, a shimmering silver light that lit up the path in front of her. She caught a glimpse of startled yellow eyes as some small creature bounded out of her way and vanished among the trees; above, a rook flapped and croaked before settling back onto its perch.

There were unicorns in this wood, and centaurs; but there were also a good many creatures more savage, and the forest was not forbidden without reason. Still, when Athena had made her first flying survey of the place, Maud had seen nothing to fear. Perhaps most of the creatures were hibernating, or at least curled up somewhere warm. After all, only a singularly determined monster -- or a singularly desperate young woman -- would be out on a night like this.

She had a rough idea of the direction in which Snape could be found: but in her flight through the forest Athena had paid little regard to paths, and it was difficult for Maud to anticipate where a given trail might lead. Twice she started down a promising-looking route, only to have it curve off in an unexpected direction and force her into retreat. At last, frustrated nearly to the point of tears, she stopped, turned, and looked back the way she had come, thinking she might have to go back and find Hagrid after all.

Unless...

Maud laid her wand on her open palm and said, "Praemonstro Severus Snape!"

The wand spun around in a circle and came to rest pointing away from the path -- into the thickest part of the brush. For a moment Maud hesitated: then, with a sigh, she hiked up her robes and began trudging through the undergrowth.

"Reducto!" she said, swinging the wand in front of her like a machete, and kicking the blackened remnants of the bushes out of her way. "Reducto! Reducto!"

Even with the help of magic it was no easy task to cut a new trail, and by the time Maud reached her destination, she was exhausted. She blasted aside the final obstacle -- a nasty-looking patch of thorns -- and was just stepping into the clearing when her weary feet betrayed her. She caught her toe on a root, tripped, and landed ignominiously on her hands and knees.

"Twenty... points from... Slytherin," said a weak but audible voice from the ground next to her. "I am... extremely disappointed... in you... Miss Moody."

Maud nearly collapsed with relief. She crawled over to him, took his limp, cold hand in both of hers, and asked shakily, "Is that for going into the forest, being out after curfew, or defacing the Hogwarts grounds?"

She could barely make out Snape's features in the dark, but he appeared to be considering. At last he said, "You're right... fifty."

His pulse felt erratic beneath her fingers, and his skin was icy cold. As she wrapped her arms and her cloak around him, he shivered uncontrollably, and no wonder: he was soaked to the skin. "I'm a fool," she said furiously. "I should have brought Hagrid--"

"No," said Snape through chattering teeth. "No Hagrid."

Maud looked down at him anxiously. Snape might be thin, but he was heavier than she was, especially with those sodden robes: there was no way she could lift him off the ground. Apparating was out of the question. There was a stretcher and warm blankets in the Hogwarts infirmary, but she wasn't up to Summoning them from such a distance. If it were only a case of transporting Snape, she could cast a simple mobilicorpus; but he needed her close, to keep him warm. So...

"Levo," she whispered, and felt his body lighten. Gently she began to pull him up to his feet.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quite gentle enough. Snape convulsed against her and retched, a horrible dry sound that told her it wasn't the first time he had done so. Then his muscles went slack as he lost consciousness.

That was it, thought Maud. Forget being careful: what she needed now was speed. Dragging Snape along with her, she struggled back toward the trail.

The next half-hour was like something from a nightmare, only she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a dream this bad. It seemed to take forever to get anywhere, and Snape went in and out of consciousness every few minutes, which never failed to terrify her. Each time his head slumped, she was sure that he was dead. After all, if she were damp and shivering in spite of her cloak, and if the mere effort of finding him had worn her out, how much worse must he feel?

Once or twice some shadowy beast crossed their path, turning to regard them with luminous eyes, and Maud went rigid with fear. But in the end, the creatures only skulked away.

She almost wept with relief when at last the path turned, the trees parted, and she glimpsed the glowing windows of the groundskeeper's hut. She longed to rush up to the door and hammer it down, then collapse gratefully on Hagrid's welcome mat: but Snape had already put paid to that idea. On the other hand, if she tried to drag Snape all the way up to Hogwarts and through the halls to his chamber, they were sure to be intercepted en route, which would be even worse. There seemed to be only one solution. If she could get Hagrid out of the cottage for a couple of minutes, just long enough to use his fireplace...

Snape's head drooped against her shoulder; she could hear his shallow breathing in her ear. If she didn't get him warm soon, he'd go into shock. Maud gathered the last of her magical strength, pointed her wand at the sky, and cried "Draco praestigium!"

As a bit of illusion-casting it was impressive: a silvery-green dragon unfurled itself from her wand, spread its wings, and gave a melodious roar. From her hiding place by the woodpile, Maud saw Hagrid's huge shadow blotting out the firelight as he leapt to his feet.

"I'm comin', sweetheart! Don' go -- wait fer me!"

An instant later he lumbered out the door, looking wildly around in all directions for a sign of his precious dragon. Maud flicked her wand, and the illusory Welsh Green let out a thin spout of flame, circled the cottage, then flapped away toward the forest. Enraptured, Hagrid followed it.

Maud waited until the half-giant had vanished among the trees, and the crashing sounds of his progress through the brush could no longer be heard. Then, still clutching Snape in an awkward embrace, she struggled up the pathway to the hut.

No sooner had she pushed the door open, however, when Hagrid's massive boarhound leaped up with a bark. Maud gripped Snape convulsively, appalled by the realisation that they must both reek of blood; but after one initial fearsome growl, the dog merely sniffed them both up and down before sitting back on his haunches.

Snape must have been here before, Maud thought with relief as she dragged her mentor across the threshold. Either that, or the dog had an unusual degree of discernment when it came to telling friend from foe. In any case, the boarhound seemed satisfied: even when she was forced to shove him aside with her foot, he offered no resistance.

Hagrid had built an enormous fire, which filled the whole cottage with warmth. As she neared the blaze, Maud felt her numb fingers and toes beginning to ache. That, and weariness, made her clumsy: she tripped over the hearthrug before she could catch herself, and dumped Snape unceremoniously on the floor.

But even then her mentor did not flinch, only rolled onto his back and lay there unmoving. His hair was a matted tangle of ice and blood, his skin the colour of bone. Only the shallow rise and fall of his chest reassured her that he was still alive.

He was so cold, she thought anxiously. More than anything she wanted to grab a pile of blankets and lie down beside him until he woke. But they couldn't stay here: Hagrid would be back at any moment. She rose from her crouched position and ran her hands along the mantelpiece.

It did not take her long to find the jar of Floo powder, although the lid was dusty and it appeared to be little used. With Umbridge watching the fires, this was a risk; but Maud could see no alternative. Besides, the Ministry was surely more worried about people using the Floo network for illicit communications outside Hogwarts than for simple travel within it?

Taking a handful of the glittering dust, Maud tossed it into the fire. Then, as the flames turned emerald and leaped up with a roar, she bent and slung Snape's limp arm around her shoulders.

"Professor Snape's bedchamber at Hogwarts," she said, as clearly as she could, and stepped forward.

There was a momentary rush of heat, followed by the familiar dark tunnel of Floo travel. A line of grates whipped past her at dizzying speed, then came a sudden bump and she fell forward, out of a strange cold hearth into an equally unfamiliar room.

Beside her, Snape shifted and muttered something unintelligible. "It's all right," she whispered. "You're home now. I'm here. It's all right."

Snape's chamber was an austere sort of place: meticulously neat, well furnished and certainly adequate for the purpose, but by no means attractive or welcoming. Still, the bed looked comfortable enough. With a last effort Maud heaved him onto it, and arranged the pillows and blankets around him as best she could.

There was a wash-stand by the window, and the water in the jug smelled fresh. With a soft word and a tap of her wand she warmed it, then carried the pitcher to the bedside and began, carefully, to wash the filth from Snape's face and hair. It did not take her long to find the source of the blood that had so alarmed her: an inch-long gash in his scalp, just behind the right temple. It was less deep than she had feared, however, and the worst of the bleeding had stopped.

Gingerly she pulled back the blankets that covered Snape, looking for more injuries. His robes were stained in several places, but at present there was no way to tell whether the dark patches were blood or dirt or just damp. Well, she told herself, he wouldn't be wearing these clothes again anyway. Steeling her nerve, she took hold of his robes at the throat and ripped them open.

An instant later her wrist was seized in a grip like cold iron, and a voice said, faint and husky with pain but nonetheless quite distinct, "I think not."

She jumped, heat rushing into her face. "You're wounded--"

"Bruises. A cracked rib." He drew a shuddering breath, grimaced and let it go. "Or two. No more."

"But your robes-- the blood--"

"Not nearly as bad as it looks." He raised a hand to his temple, winced as his fingers brushed raw flesh. "But this--"

She frowned and bent closer, trying to see whether his pupils were uneven, but it was hard to tell in this light. His eyes were half-lidded, glittering black; they watched her without expression. "Do you remember how you injured your head?" she asked.

"Not... at the moment."

Maud sat back on her heels. "You've been going in and out of consciousness, and when I tried to move you the first time, you were sick." Snape shifted his shoulders as though about to rise: she put a hand on his chest to hold him down. His skin felt clammy beneath her palm. "Don't move."

He blinked at her. His pupils were uneven, she saw that now. And he seemed bemused, which was another bad sign. Under ordinary conditions Snape had wits like a dagger and a tongue no less sharp, but now it took him several seconds to reply. "Miss Moody," he said. "Were you ever a child?"

"Ask my uncle."

Snape appeared to consider this. "I will," he said. "Next time. If there is one. Not that it's likely."

This would be a terse and cryptic speech from most patients, but for Snape it came dangerously close to babbling. Maud laid a hand on his forehead. "Rest," she said. "Don't talk. I'm going to brew you something for your concussion; I'll be right here if you need me."

A half-smile flickered across his mouth. "Miss Groggins would have something to say about this."

"Miss Groggins," said Maud with more than usual acidity, "can go hang herself."

Snape did not reply. She gave him a sharp look, but his eyes were still open, so she rose and went to the fireplace. The house-elves had left an ample stack of wood: she had only to point her wand and murmur "Incendio."

Strong black tea as a base, she thought as she gazed into the growing flames, with a drop of runespoor egg-yolk if she could get it. Valerian to ward off shock, but not too much. Prodigiosa for headache, ginseng for alertness, and boneset for those ribs. Then some comfrey paste to put on his cuts and scratches...

As she had expected, most of the ingredients she wanted were in Snape's cupboards, and it was not hard to compensate for the others. Glancing back at intervals to make sure that her patient was still awake, she finished brewing the tea and carried it over to him.

"Can you sit up?" she asked.

Snape said nothing, so she put a hand on his arm. He was still shivering, and no wonder: even with the blankets and a good roaring fire, those damp rags he was wearing weren't doing him any good. For a moment Maud debated arguing with him: then with sudden decisiveness she set the tea down on the night-table, turned her back, and cast three spells over her shoulder in rapid succession. Snape made an outraged noise, but when she dared to turn around again, he was lying flat on his back with the blankets around his shoulders, and the tattered remnants of his robes were draped over the wash-stand.

"Stop grousing," she told him severely. "What did you think I was going to do, ravish you?"

Something of the old spark came back into Snape's eyes. With an effort he turned toward her and raised himself on one elbow, reaching out to take the cup she offered. "If that remark was meant to be humiliating," he said, sipping at the hot tea, "you'll need to try harder."

Maud dabbed comfrey on his temple, making him wince -- or perhaps it was just the taste of the tea. "I can't think why I might want to humiliate you," she said. "Heaven knows you've never done such a thing to me... or lied to me, or manipulated me..."

"I have never lied to you." His voice was still hoarse, but there was a fierceness in it that surprised her. "And if I have at times omitted the truth, I have always given you the means to discover it for yourself."

"Such as sending me down to the library to learn the Hebrew alphabet?" Maud whisked the blankets down to his waist and began smearing comfrey on a long scrape running down his side. "I appreciated that."

"Maud," he began, and then stopped. In an altered tone he asked, "Where is Athena?"

Her fingers stopped moving. She swallowed, feeling the resurgence of a grief too long denied. "She's dead."

"Then..." He narrowed his eyes, as though trying to bring her into focus. "How can you see?"

"You mean you didn't notice the..." she started to say, and then it hit her.

There was no owl on her shoulder, had not been for a long time. It had not even been with her when she put on her cloak to go out. It must have flown back to the Owlery when she ran out the door, leaving George too thunderstruck to chase after her. And she had been too caught up in rescuing Snape to notice.

"I can see," she whispered, scarcely believing it, and then suddenly her tangled emotions were too much for her and she began to cry, huge gasping sobs shaking her whole body, her newly discovered vision swimming into a blur as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

To be continued...

Darkness and Light 2: Personal Risks by RJ_Anderson [Reviews - 4]

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