The Name in Red: Beyond the Gate

(*REMINDER*: This story is a sequel to my story, The Name in Red. If you have not read The Name in Red yet, please read it first. It can be found at http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600011898)

Hello everyone! Sorry to make you wait so long for Chapter 2. Writing is always difficult when there is school to worry about. I hope you accept my offer of a lemony treat for making you wait so long. Enjoy!


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The Name in Red: Beyond the Gate.

Chapter 2: Revelations.
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A few days after her birthday party, Sarah was seated on the floor in front of the fireplace in the home on Spinner’s End. After the storm front of a few days ago had passed through, bringing torrential rains, temperatures had plummeted to unseasonably cool levels. This had merited the lighting of the fireplace. Sarah, who still seemed to have a liking for the novelty of the fireplaces that were everywhere in the Wizarding world and somewhat neglected in the Muggle world, was pleased at this turn of events. Besides, it had given her a much more suitable place to sit and brood about what had been bothering her. Now, she sat before the fireplace, quietly staring into the slowly dying flames. She was hugging her knees tightly to her chest. The hour was getting quite late, and the fire was beginning to burn itself out. This was causing the room around her to steadily darken, but she barely noticed. She was lost in her thoughts.

Snape, who was seated near her on the threadbare sofa, lowered the latest issue of The Practical Potioneer in order to study her. The girl had barely spoken a word to him following her birthday gathering three days ago in Godric’s Hollow. She had been like this ever since finally voicing aloud that thing which they had both been growing suspicious of for quite some time: the fact that they seemed to have stopped aging ever since she had fused half of her soul into him. Initially when the girl had started to sulk, he had been relatively unconcerned; she had always been prone to fits of brooding every now and again. Even far prior to her admittance of the strange symptom of their bond, he had been sure that these brooding sessions were a product of her slowly dawning suspicion of it. Even so, she would quickly break out of them, probably choosing to try and not think about it. Ever since admitting it aloud, however, the issue seemed to have consumed her, and she had retreated entirely.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes on her back as she sat facing away from him. He could tangibly feel her inner sadness and turmoil churning within himself; this was another symptom of their bond that they had come to discover in the past few years. As well as being able to somehow sense each other’s presence, they were able to sense each other’s emotional states with a large degree of accuracy. These symptoms, however, were two of the more benign ones. The others, as they had discovered in time, had been far stranger.

Once, while Snape had been teaching his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Sarah had laid down for a nap in a completely different part of the castle. She had fallen asleep in the dungeons, only to find herself reawaken inside Snape’s conscious mind, looking out through his eyes and seeing everything as if she were inside him. Snape had immediately become aware of her presence within him, resulting in quite a disturbed class of students when he immediately bolted out of the room and sprinted down to the dungeons to see if she was alright. As soon as he had burst into their quarters, he felt her presence disappear from within him and sensed it once more again without him, and he found the girl sitting up in bed, staring straight at him, and looking stricken.

Following this event, as they had indeed found themselves in a situation possibly unique in the entire history of magic, they felt obligated to explore its limits. Documenting their exploration, in time, and in tandem with advanced studies in Occlumency and Legilimency, they had learned to use this apparent connection in order to enter each other’s consciousness at will. In some ways, it seemed, the connection they shared was eerily similar to the connection Harry had once shared with Voldemort when a piece of Voldemort’s soul had resided within him. Aside from this ability, they shared dreams at times. Also, when one was awake and the other asleep, the sleeper would sometimes enter the waking consciousness of the other involuntarily, as had initially happened. They found these connections profoundly strange, and went out of their way to prevent them from happening.

Snape sighed as he stared at the girl’s back, with her long, dark brown hair cascading down. The most serious consequence of their bond they had been aware of immediately following the girl’s action; the fact that while one of them was alive, the other could not die. They had known, right away, no less, that they were, in a mild sense, immortal

Snape grimaced slightly as he thought this; he always did his utmost to avoid saying or thinking that word for lack of a better one. While it was apparently true that they could not die as long as one of them lived, he had no idea what would happen if both of them were to somehow die simultaneously, nor did he want to find out. This was one aspect of their bond that they did not care to risk testing the limits of.

But why was the girl suddenly in so much anguish over the issue, when they had already known about it for quite some time? Perhaps the fact that they had ceased physically aging had compounded it for her, and made the gravity of the situation finally hit home. Perhaps, before, she had never fully appreciated just what it had meant. It was true that they had no idea that they would stop aging in this way, but Snape did not see why the girl should be taking it so badly. After all, wasn’t living without aging preferable in their circumstance?

Just as Snape had opened his mouth to speak, the girl cut him off. She could, after all, sense his inner troubles about her swirling, and feel his eyes boring into her back.

“We can’t live forever, Severus,” she said, and her voice sounded hollow. The dying firelight was dancing in her dark brown eyes as she stared into the grate.

Snape straightened up slightly, carefully contemplating what to say next. He could sense the strength of her conviction, but could not help himself in disagreeing with her. He weighed his words carefully before attempting to speak again.

“Why not?” he ventured tentatively, his eyes taking in the contours of the girl’s body which he knew so well; he vividly remembered standing in the Headmaster’s tower, beneath the gaze of Dumbledore’s portrait, thinking that he would be glad to have an eternity in which to look at her. He could never look at her enough. “Immortality is something which has been coveted and sought by man since time immemorial, and many great and powerful wizards and witches have perished in pursuit of it… It is what the Dark Lord, and countless others, were after, isn’t it? Even if we achieved it inadvertently, why should we want to cast it aside?” Several moments of silence followed.

Sarah felt a twinge of something strange deep inside of her, and she winced slightly, narrowing her eyes. Why should they want to have anything in common with Voldemort, and all those other witches and wizards throughout history who had probably sought a way to live forever at the expense of so many innocent lives?

Snape realized his mistake immediately, his eyes widening slightly as they rested on the girl’s form.

“I only meant--,” he began, but he fell silent when the girl shifted around to face him, sitting cross-legged before the dying fire.

“I know what you meant,” Sarah sighed, looking up into his deep, black eyes. She knew that, for the most part, his wish to live forever was born from his intense love for her, and his desire to be with her always. “But we can’t. We just can’t.”

Snape remained silent, meeting her steely gaze. If the girl was so intent that they should not be able to live forever with each other, he desired nothing more than an explanation of why she felt this way.

“What are we supposed to do,” Sarah began, “Just sit here, never aging, and watch our friends grow old and die without us?” This thought made her breath catch in her throat, and she swallowed hard as hotness stung the corners of her eyes. She looked down at the carpet. “And what if… what if…,”

Snape’s eyes widened even further as he suddenly sensed a great sadness within the girl. He leaned forward on the sofa, his hands gripping the edges of the cushions so tightly that his knuckles shone white in the dimly lit room. When the girl looked back up at him, there were tears swimming in her eyes.

“What if we want to have children someday?” the girl choked out, staring into Snape’s eyes imploringly, “What are we supposed to do, then? The same as with our friends? Watch them grow old and die while we live on and on, forever?”

Snape took a sharp intake of breath as he felt a great sinking within him. He leaned back slightly, looking thoroughly nonplussed. He hadn’t though of this before; so far, his ever-persistent present state of bliss with the girl had been enough to drive all other thoughts out of his mind. This, coupled with his notice that they had stopped aging, had caused him to never think of a future that might involve that sort of thing. It was such a foreign idea to him. He, Severus Snape, a father?

As this thought pierced him, he shook his head jerkily as if he were trying to bat away a fly. Through his many tumultuous life experiences, and the excruciatingly painful loss of the first woman with whom he could ever have contemplated having such a future, he had never envisioned it for himself. Settling down and having a family was something meant for better men than he, men who had not given in to the seduction of the Dark side and become a part of the very instrument of power that had torn so many families asunder. As far as he was concerned, he did not deserve such a thing. His eyes were wide, but they no longer saw the room around him and the girl sitting before him; instead, countless images of bygone murders, the deaths of innocents, that he had aided and abetted were flashing before him.

“Stop it,” the girl said loudly, pulling him back into reality. She had sensed his mind spinning out of control.

His eyes came into focus again, and he looked at her sadly. Even if he had never before contemplated the situation from such an angle, he could not help but think that the girl was right. He saw that, eventually, the pain of losing those around them whom they, dare he think it, loved, would outweigh the happiness of living an eternal life together. He had never before imagined the burden one would have to bear, living eternally in the wake of death, unable to let go of life.

“People aren’t meant to live forever,” the girl whispered as she could sense Snape’s dawning revelation. “Those that want to… they’re… they’re not human, are they?” She finished with a shudder, thinking of Voldemort and the countless atrocities he had committed in his pursuit to safeguard himself from mortal death.

“You are right,” Snape admitted with a sigh. Unfortunately, this admittance was just as fraught with problems that seemed unsolvable as was the realization that they were no longer aging. He met the girl’s eyes and held her gaze unwaveringly, and unspoken questions lingered in the air between them. So what? What now?

Sarah closed her eyes and shifted herself back around to face the fire, hugging her knees to her chest again. She stared into its depths as her mind continued to race, full of those thoughts which had been plaguing her for the past few days since she had openly admitted that they were no longer aging. She was not dwelling only on their immortality, however. She had been pondering what, if anything, could be done about it.

Just as Snape was about to speak up again and ask her what exactly she was thinking (it bothered him to no end that he could sense her feelings so easily but be unable to go the extra step and read her thoughts), there came a soft rapping on the living room window. Both their heads turned simultaneously in its direction. There, through the open curtains and the glare of the room’s dim light on the window’s glass, they could see a handsome barn owl standing on the sill outside. His feathers were mostly white, but his face was ringed with brown, and his chest flecked with brown spots. When the owl had seen that the room’s occupants had become aware of his presence, he extended his flexible neck forward, poking his beak into the glass with a soft click. Then, with an air of slight impatience, he tilted his head comically to the side so that his eyes were stacked vertically as he peered in at them.

“It’s Tyto,” Sarah said at last, standing up with effort. She then made her way over to the window. Quickly unlatching the window, she opened it, and before she could even greet the bird, he had burst into the room with a loud flapping of feathers and a clattering of talons as he landed on the wooden coffee table before the sofa. There, he strode up and down the table’s glossy surface, his head tilted upward importantly, and a letter held tightly in his beak.

Snape watched the bird with an expression of annoyed incredulity, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes; he knew that such a display would probably earn him an angry talon or two. Harry Potter’s owl was too like its master, he thought to himself; arrogant to a fault.

“Well?” Snape asked the bird, leaning forward and extending his right hand. As soon as his fingertips neared the envelope, the bird stopped in his pacing, closed his eyes, and haughtily turned his head away. Apparently the letter was addressed to Sarah, and he would not be caught letting someone else intercept it.

As Sarah approached the coffee table, the owl peeked at Snape out of a slit in one eye, almost as if he was relishing in Snape’s apparent frustration at his behavior. She laughed softly.

“No need to be like that, Tyto,” she said, smiling as she approached him. When she was close, his large black eyes opened wide, and he extended his neck toward her, holding out the letter. She gently took the letter from his beak, observing that the envelope read Sarah in a neat, familiar script. “Next time, if a letter is addressed to me, you can let Severus take it, too,” Sarah said, patting the bird softly on the top of his head. The owl waggled his tail feathers rapidly back and forth a few times and then nipped one of her fingers in an affectionate sort of way. “Thank you,” Sarah said, smiling down at him.

The owl blinked at her in recognition. Then, for good measure, before taking flight to leave, he craned his head backward toward Snape and glared at him through narrowed eyes. How dare he try to take a letter not specifically addressed to him. When Snape gave a soft, derisive snort, the owl spread his magnificent wings and batted them powerfully, soaring gracefully back out through the still-open window. Sarah followed after him, shutting the window and re-latching it. Then, she turned her attention to the letter in her hands. Snape looked up at her expectantly.

“It’s from Hermione,” Sarah said, having recognized Hermione’s meticulously neat script. She slipped a finger beneath the envelope’s sealing to coax it open, seating herself before the dying fire in order to see it in a better light.

“Why must she always borrow Harry’s owl?” Snape asked, staring toward the window which the arrogant owl had just departed from. He thoroughly disliked the bird’s visits. Tyto had bitten him on more than one occasion. Based on the owl’s behavior toward him, he could not help but be suspicious that it had been told something of his past treatment toward its master; perhaps, indeed, by its master. Snape exhaled sharply through his nose, tearing his gaze away from the window and looking down at where the girl sat.

“I think Ron keeps Pigwidgeon pretty occupied doing business for he and George,” Sarah said, tugging a small piece of parchment out of its envelope. “They’re getting mail-order business from places you wouldn’t imagine. They’ll need a whole fleet of owls soon.” Then, she fell silent as her eyes scanned quickly back and forth over the letter. It was a pretty brief one. When she was finished, she looked up at Snape and extended the letter toward him. He instantly swiped it out of her hand and passed it under his gaze, impatient to see what the smug little bird had been so eager to keep from him.

“She wants us to come by for lunch again tomorrow,” Sarah explained as Snape’s eyes raked across the parchment.

When he was finished reading it for himself, he set it down on the table before him and turned back to the girl. His expression clearly communicated his disfavor for these visits. Something about being surrounded by Ministry personnel in the midst of the Ministry’s cafeteria made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. He seriously wondered how the girl could feel any less awkward about the situation, as she herself had once been solely responsible for reducing several parts of the Minstry’s internal infrastructure to smoking rubble, not to mention injuring several Ministry security guards.

“Please?” the girl asked softly, looking up at Snape with those dark brown eyes to which he was so vulnerable.

Snape gave a resigned sigh as he looked down at her. He had never been very good at refusing to grant her wishes. If she wanted to go, they would go. He smirked slightly and extended one of his hands toward where she sat. With a small smile, the girl took his hand, allowing herself to be lifted onto the sofa beside him. Then, his arm curled snugly around her form in an embrace which caused a warm, contented feeling to emanate from somewhere deep inside him. He closed his eyes momentarily, savoring it.

Feeling the exact same thing, Sarah’s head came to rest on his shoulder, and she too closed her eyes, enjoying their closeness. She had spent the past few days being quite troubled and aloof, and she had so far not been able to bring herself into any situation of intimacy with him. Now, however, as she sat there in his protective embrace, she realized what a mistake that had been. Being further apart from him only caused the sensations of uncertainty, doubt, and fear to swirl even more intensely inside of her. Being close to him seemed to calm her inner turmoil. She breathed slowly and deeply, taking in the scent that she had found so comforting and alluring when she had first met him. With her hand still entwined in his, she spread her fingers apart and began to run her fingertips over his palm idly as she leaned against him.

“You never said yes,” she whispered, looking down at their hands.

“Don’t be facetious,” he replied, tightening his grip so that he once again captured her hand in his. Then, using his grip on her hand as well as the arm which was wrapped around her, he shunted her around so that she came to rest on his lap, facing him. “You know very well that I would never deny you what you want, no matter how irksome,” he said, a slight tone of sarcasm apparent in his voice. It was habit to make himself sound somewhat annoyed whenever he was subject to giving in to her whims, if only to doctor her into feeling somewhat guilty in order to receive some reciprocity. Letting go of her hand, he began slowly tracing her jaw line with his fingertips, looking at her through half-closed eyes.

“I rather dislike this new habit of yours, keeping yourself shut away alone,” he continued, watching as the girl closed her eyes at his touch and began to shudder. “It feels as if I haven’t touched you in ages,” he said, smirking in a satisfied manner as the girl tilted her head back, allowing him to caress her exposed neck. Her long, straight hair dipped even further down her back.

“I know,” Sarah said with a soft sigh. Even though she could already feel herself succumbing to his touch, she could not quite relinquish the cold, empty feeling of dread which had settled inside her following her birthday party. Still, the sensation of being so close to him filled her with such a strong warmth that she was able to ignore it for the moment.

Sensing the apprehension which remained inside of her, and unsure of what else exactly to do for the girl in order to cheer her up, Snape’s hand found its way underneath her chin. He held her steady as he straightened up, craning his neck forward towards her, and giving her a soft, tentative kiss on the lips. When the girl closed her eyes and gave deep sigh, he took encouragement and leaned into her harder, deepening the kiss and seeking out her tongue with intense fervor. Before the girl knew what had happened, she found herself utterly encased in Snape’s embrace, being kissed deeply by him while his hands sought out any erogenous part of her body that they could possibly find. He was still like a drug to her; being so close to him and breathing in his irresistible scent, she was utterly helpless as he began to ravish her like a starved man. Soon, her outer robes had been pushed over her shoulders and slid down her arms, and Snape was tugging at her shirt. He bore his teeth as he found the neck of her Muggle t-shirt. He still rather disliked her taste for wearing Muggle clothing underneath her robes. He lamented the fact that he could not simply tear it off of her without ruining it utterly. Still, it was nothing that could not be fixed with a simple mending spell; this was the thought that ran through his mind as he tugged quite hard on her shirt, tearing it down the middle and exposing her torso to his hungry eyes and hands.

Sarah moaned softly as her shirt was torn, and her hands found their way into his hair. In an instant, one of his hands was at her back. Next, her bra came off of her cleanly and was tossed aside by him. With a heavy sigh of his own, Snape leaned forward and captured one of her breasts with his mouth, his tongue caressing her skin artfully while his hands worked to slip the rest of her torn shirt off of her body. When she was completely topless, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, hugging her close to him as he found her neck. Breathing heavily onto it, he dug his fingertips gently into her skin and ran them down her spine, causing her to arch herself into him and tilt her head upward. Taking advantage of this, Snape turned and tilted her downward, setting her down to rest on the sofa’s cushions and raising himself up above her on his arms.

He paused momentarily as he gazed down at her. Her cheeks were prettily flushed, and her eyes were wide and full of heat. He watched, breathing heavily, as her eyes began scanning his neckline, where his robes were, as always, tightly buttoned up. Bringing up one of her hands, the girl slowly began to unbutton her way down from his neck to the front of his robes.

“Wait,” he sighed heavily. With difficulty, he tore himself from the girl and rose to stand beside the sofa.

She did not protest, however, as she watched him disappear up the stairs flanked by bookcases. She lay there alone for a few moments, watching the dancing shadow on the ceiling cast by the chandelier as the fire continued to burn lower and lower. The many shadows in the room were steadily growing longer and darker. She was trying her best to push away the negative thoughts that were creeping into her again in Snape’s absence; luckily, only seconds later, the liberal creaking of the stairs heralded his return.

She raised herself up on her elbows, watching as Snape approached her, his hand outstretched; in his palm lay a small, deep blue flask, glinting dully in the dying firelight. Sitting up, she took it from him and uncorked it. Before she raised the flask to her lips, she was distracted by Snape’s movement, and her eyes swept over him. His fingers were dancing down the front of his robes, unbuttoning them with practiced skill, and soon he was repeating the motions on his white collared undershirt.

When he shed his layers, the way in which the girl’s eyes were lingering on his exposed flesh did not go unnoticed by him. His hands then slowly moved to the waist of his trousers, but instead of undoing them, he took a deep breath and then cleared his throat loudly. The girl started slightly and her eyes met his.

“Well?” he asked, indicating the flask she was holding, which was hovering only inches from her lips.

The girl looked slightly confused as she turned her attention to the object she held. She looked momentarily surprised, as if she had forgotten she was holding it.

“Oh, right,” she said softly, tilting her head back as she downed the contents of the flask in one. She did not even grimace as she swallowed it. Once, long ago, the taste of contraceptive potion had been highly unpleasant to her, but she had slowly gotten used to it over the years.

When the flask was empty, she looked down at it, thinking; just how much of this potion had she drank in the past few years? At times, with Snape’s libido and insatiable desire for her, she imaged that it might be enough to fill a bathtub. She smirked.

“Quite a lot, I’m afraid,” he drawled, watching her.

Pulled from her thoughts, Sarah looked up at him, and her smirk had transformed into a sly smile.

“How do you do that?” she asked, setting the empty flask down on the coffee table beside her.

“It’s rather easy, really,” he said, drinking in her alluringly topless form with his eyes.

Sarah blushed even deeper; she could never help doing so when he was looking at her in that way. Her eyes flitted down to his trousers and the large, unmistakable bulge they were concealing. She felt a small rush of adrenaline shoot through her body as she began to anticipate it. Snape had been right; it had been far too long since he had touched her.

Without a moment’s further hesitation, Snape moved forward and brought himself onto the sofa. Then, he began pushing the girl back down into the cushions with his body so that he was firmly on top of her. The feel of their bare skin pressed together was enough to elicit an almost inaudible gasp from him. The girl’s hands found their way onto his back, and he captured her mouth in deep, passionate kiss as she began to caress his skin with her fingertips. When she bit one of his lips softly, he rewarded her by pushing his hips firmly into her so that she could feel him.

As they continued to kiss and caress each other, the room became filled with their heated moans and gasps as they gave themselves over to pleasure, allowing themselves to be consumed by it. This was another symptom of their bond; their uncanny access to each other’s deepest feelings had intensified their lovemaking. Their bodies communicated with each other in a way that others only dream of. Soon, without knowing quite how they had gotten there, both of them were completely divested, and Snape had plunged himself into her depths.

The girl’s fingernails raked his back and her legs tightened around him as he pushed into her again and again. He lavished her neck with the attention of his teeth and tongue, all the while caressing her breasts. They were completely lost in each other as they were brought to the heights of ecstasy. They each cried out, holding each other tightly, as his warmth spread inside her while she pulsed around him again and again. Then, the only sounds that could be heard were their panting breaths, the faint ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, and the small crackling of the fire which had been reduced to smoldering embers.

They lay like that for some time, holding each other closely while their passion died down. Then, Snape’s eyes wandered up to the clock on the mantelpiece. He could not quite tell what time it was exactly, but he could tell from the position of the clock’s hands that it was quite late.

“Come,” he said softly, raising himself up off of the girl and standing beside the sofa where he held out his hand to her. The girl, very relaxed, was looking as if she were just about ready to fall asleep. “If we are going to go for lunch tomorrow, we had best retire.”

With a yawn and a stretch, Sarah took Snape’s hand and allowed him to pull her up off of the sofa. As they made their way to their bed, Sarah was trying desperately to push away a sinking feeling; her dreams, of late, had been remarkably dark and troubled. She was sure that Snape could sense it, but luckily, he had so far not inadvertently visited any of her dreams. She hoped that tonight would not be any different.


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The following day, just before noon, Sarah and Snape were walking along a sunny London sidewalk. It was uncharacteristically warm and humid out here, and both of them looked supremely odd to the Muggle Londoners that they passed. Sarah, who refused to wear anything shorter than blue jeans, was currently sporting a pair of dark green cargo pants and looking a little uncouth. Her wand was poking out of one of the cargo pockets on her right leg. She was wearing a t-shirt, at least, but since they were currently headed to just about the most magically concentrated location in all of Britain, she could not justify leaving her long black outer robes out of the equation. She was wearing them open, at least, giving a clear view of the Muggle clothing underneath, and her feet could breathe in the sturdy, open sandals strapped to her feet.

Snape, however, was dressed head-to-toe in his usual black, his robes billowing behind him as they marched along. He squinted irritatedly up that the glaring sun; the sooner they were indoors, the better. He was growing quite hot and uncomfortable in his robes, not to mention all of the strange looks he and the girl were attracting from passersby. He let out an annoyed sigh as they passed small group of goggling Muggles.

“You could have worn something cooler,” Sarah said as they turned another corner, and a tall, red, stereotypical London telephone booth came into view. “And, you know, less weird.” She stifled a small chuckle.

“You’re one to talk,” he said, his eyes darting over to the girl at his side; she didn’t exactly look cool and breezy in her outfit, either, let alone normal. He then shielded his face from the sun with his hand. He did ever so hate the sun, and his extremely pale complexion communicated just this much to anyone who looked at him.

As they drew up to the telephone booth, Snape stepped forward and pulled open the door. The girl stepped inside before him, and he pulled the door shut as he stepped in behind her, grateful to be in the merciful cover of shade. He was also grateful that they were about to go underground, where the sun couldn’t bother him any longer. When he heard the ticking of numbers being punched on the telephone pad, he watched as the girl dialed 62442.

“Name and reason for visit?” spoke a clear, female voice from inside the telephone both.

“Severus Snape and Sarah Garrend, here to visit Mister Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger of the Auror Department and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, respectively,” said Snape.

A moment later, two small badges came sliding out of the telephone’s change slot, which said Severus Snape, Visitor and Sarah Garrend, Visitor. Sarah took them and pinned hers to the open chest of her robes, and handed Snape’s over to him.

Then, the voice spoke again.

“Please present your wands for identification at the far end of the Atrium, and have a pleasant day.”

When the voice finished speaking, the telephone booth quaked abruptly as it began to move downward, and Sarah watched as London disappeared above them as they sank beneath the ground. When the booth came to a halt, Snape pushed the door open and pressed his back firmly against its side, quite keen to let the girl step out before him. He stiffened, taking a deep breath as the hustle and bustle of the Atrium beyond filled his ears. He really hated coming here.

Sarah stepped out past Snape and made her way into the middle of the Atrium’s main hall. In spite of Snape’s displeasure for their visits here, she always found the Ministry of Magic fascinating and stimulating. On either side of here were two thick crowds of traffic; witches and wizards from all over the Wizarding world were popping in and out of the Floo network fireplaces on either side of the hall, and a steady stream of people were walking two and fro. A short distance away, a young wizard with a scruffy beard was hocking today’s issue of The Daily Prophet, while important-looking witches and wizards, finely dressed, strode past. It was an ever-increasing positive sign that not all of the people in the crowd were human. Here and there a goblin could be seen, deep in conversation about financial matters.

When she heard the door of the telephone booth slam shut behind her, she glimpsed back and saw Snape moving to stand next to her. Then, they fell into stride beside each other, headed down to the other end of the Atrium. There, the small desk that visitors were required to present their wants at was located. Both Sarah and Snape began to scan eagerly in its direction, but not in anticipation of having to present their wands. Soon enough, Sarah caught sight of their quarry and her face split into a wide smile as she began to walk even faster. Snape’s expression remained inscrutable as he trod along behind her.

There, beside the visitor’s desk, stood Harry and Hermione. When they caught sight of Sarah and Snape in the crowd, they both raised their hands in greeting; Hermione waved her hand enthusiastically, while Harry’s remained still. When Sarah and Snape approached the desk, the grumpy-looking, uniformed wizard seated there eyed them expectantly. They were wearing visitor’s tags on the fronts of their robes. Just as he was about to speak up and request that they present their wands, however, he was cut off by a young man standing somewhere off to his left.

“It’s alright, Gus,” said the young man, flashing a placating smile. He then casually (or what seemed like casually, to him) tossed his hair aside; when the grumpy-looking wizard caught sight of what lay underneath his untidy bangs, his eyes widened, and he adopted an apologetic expression. “They’re with me.”

“Oh, oh, of course, Mr. Potter, sir, of course,” said the grumpy-looking wizard, raising his hands in apology as the long-haired visitor, as well as her tall, dark escort came to stand next to Harry Potter and his friend. “I meant no offense. Go ahead,” he said, waving them off.

With a smile, Harry tipped his head toward the wizard before turning away from the visitor’s desk and striding off toward the end of the Atrium with Sarah and Snape. Hermione followed after them, blushing slightly and looking somewhat sheepish as she glanced back several times toward the visitor’s desk.

“Quit doing that,” said Harry, his bright green eyes coming to rest firmly on Hermione before he looked toward his other friends. “They’ll think we’re up to something.”

“Oooh, I’m sorry,” Hermione whined, steadying herself and looking forward with resolve, making it plain that she was not going to glance back again. “I just hate it when you use your clout like that,” she explained, wringing her hands nervously.

“Yeah, so do I,” Harry admitted with a sigh. He always hated playing the ‘Boy Who Lived’ card, especially at the Ministry. “But Sarah and Snape hate having to hand their wands over for inspection even more, don’t they?”

“Quite,” Snape affirmed, a sour look on his face as he navigated the crowd with the other three.

After a few moments, the four of them reached a somewhat less crowded end of the Atrium, and it was here that they all paused to hug, shake hands, and greet each other.

“Glad you could make it,” said Harry as he broke his firm handshake with Snape, whose ill-disguised sneer made it plain that he was only here because Sarah wished to be. Harry suppressed a smirk; he recalled how, in the days following Voldemort’s downfall, the man had undergone a quite necessarily public redemption in order to clear his name. Ever since, it was obvious that he very much disliked appearing in large crowds of people. On top of that, their more recent exploits made it even more uncomfortable for him appear within the Ministry of Magic itself.

“Hungry, I hope?” Hermione asked, gesturing excitedly behind her to a large pair of double doors. Above them, there was a large crest emblazoned with the words Ministry Cafeteria.

Sarah nodded vigorously. She always loved coming to eat here, where she could get a wide sampling of all the strange yet delicious foods of the Wizarding world. The cafeteria at the Ministry of Magic was known for being impeccably good. After Snape gave a curt nod, all four of them made their way over to the doors, where Harry held one open, allowing them inside.

As it was the lunch hour, the cafeteria was quite busy. Dozens of witches and wizards from various departments were sitting about, enjoying their lunches, or else having been too swamped by paperwork to cease their duties in order to take a meal. Here and there, a witch or wizard sat alone at a table, their quills scribbling furiously on parchment as they struggled to shovel food into their mouths with their free hand. Above their heads, violet paper airplanes were soaring about of their own accord, eager to find their addressees in the midst of the lunch crowd.

All four of them approached the long lunch counter and got in line, trays in hand, preparing to approach the dizzying array of food which lay ahead of them. They waited patiently for the long line to advance. As they did, Hermione was bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet, looking excited fit to burst. Snape was pretending to ignore this, content to stare off to the side. Sarah, however, who was standing next to Hermione, could not help but notice.

“What is it, Hermione?” she asked, stepping forward as the lunch line advanced another few paces.

Instantly, Hermione exploded with an excited shriek. Harry ducked his head down into his shoulders and winced, almost as if he were expecting her to hit him.

“They’re being paid now, isn’t that wonderful?!” she shouted, gesturing to the long lunch counter in front of them. Behind the counter, dozens of house-elves were bustling about. Some of them were standing on tall stools in order to dispense food to the occupants of the lunch line, and others were carrying stacks of clean or dirty lunch trays, taking them to and from the kitchens. Still others bore heavily laden trays of food up to the counter, replacing those things which the cafeteria’s patrons had a particular taste for that day. All of them were dressed identically in neat-looking uniforms composed of crisply pressed tea towels embroidered with gold letters that read MoM.

Sarah was somewhat awestruck at Hermione’s sudden glee.

“That’s—that’s brilliant, Hermione!” she managed, watching as Hermione beamed at the working house-elves.

Harry chuckled as he stepped ahead several paces while the line advanced and began to load up his tray with as much scrumptious food as he possibly could.

“I’m surprised you kept it bottled up that long,” he said, helping himself to some pudding.

All four of them continued to march along the counter as the line advanced, choosing whatever they wished to eat. When they reached the end, Harry told the tiny house-elf manning the till to charge it to their departments.

“It’s not much at all, a pittance, really,” said Hermione, a clear tone of remorse in her voice as if she were personally responsible for the meager wages of the house-elves, “But it’s loads better than the alternative. They’re still not happy about it, though.”

Snape was making a point to look thoroughly disinterested, but Sarah nodded in agreement. Harry, meanwhile, chuckled again.

“Rest assured that spew is still alive and well within the Ministry!” he said, motioning ahead of them to an empty four-top table. “Just don’t tell them it was you who did it or they’ll stop giving us food.”

“It’s not spew, it’s S.P.E.W.!” shouted Hermione above the cafeteria’s din, sounding irate, “How many times do I have to tell that to you and Ron?”

“At least a few more times, I think,” said Harry with a smile, setting down his lunch tray on the table as they were all seated around it. He watched, still smiling, as Snape insisted upon pulling Sarah’s chair out for her before he was seated himself.

Snape then began to eat his lunch in silence, while Sarah continued to gaze about the cafeteria with blatant interest. She really loved coming here, and it had been far too long since her last visit.

“Anyhow, we’re sorry we haven’t been seeing much of you two lately,” Harry said, tucking in to his own meal, “We’ve been swamped.”

“I understand,” Sarah said, twirling her fork in her food as she thought to herself. She was imagining what it would be like to have a demanding and busy career.

She had somewhat of a job herself; during the school year when Snape was teaching, she had gradually become what some Muggles might call a TA, a teaching assistant. While Snape taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, she would aid in his classroom preparations and demonstrations to the class, and even take charge of the class if he were for some reason unable to teach. She wasn’t officially on the Hogwart’s payroll, but Snape always made sure that she was compensated quite well for her work, in more ways than money alone. During the summer months, however, when Snape was not teaching, she would grow somewhat listless. All of her friends had busy careers, after all; but she still could not imagine what sort of career she might ever seek in the Wizarding world outside of being Snape’s informal assistant. As far she was concerned, due to her limited time as a witch compared to all of her peers, she was highly underqualified for just about everything.

“It’s been crazy,” said Hermione, “But that’s because it’s a wonderful time for the Wizarding world. Everything is still changing, hopefully for the better, if I have anything to do with it.”

“If you have anything to do with it, I’m sure things will turn out great,” Sarah said, smiling. “How about this, you make all the laws, and Harry can round up all the evildoers. Then everything will be great!”

“I can’t deny the logic in that arrangement,” Harry said, laughing as he raised his fork to his mouth.

For a short while longer, Harry, Hermione, and Sarah all shared in catching up even further than they had been able to a few days previously. Snape, meanwhile, remained somewhat silent, as was characteristic of his behavior whilst in public. Then, all of them were interrupted quite suddenly when a small violet paper airplane performed a nosedive above them, impaling itself in Hermione’s mane of bushy brown hair.

“Oh!” she said, plucking the memo from her head and unfolding it on the table. "Just what I needed today,” she said giving a sigh as she furled it up and stuck it into one of her robe pockets. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be getting back to work quite soon,” she said, making to stand up from the table.

Harry shook back the sleeve of his robes and glanced at the starry golden watch on his wrist. He nodded with a grim look on his face, and then began to stand as well.

“Me too, I’m afraid,” he said, looking sadly at Sarah and Snape, regretting that he did not have more time at the present moment to spend in their company. “At least we got to spend a bit of time together. I’m also glad we were all able to get together for your birthday the other night,” he said sincerely with a nod.

When Harry mentioned her birthday, it was as if something instantly snapped inside Sarah; she shot up from her chair, causing it to scrape loudly on the floor behind her. She stood, somewhat rigid, and grasping the edges of the table with either hand. Snape dropped his eating utensils and stood instantly, observing the girl cautiously. Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione flinched, and then looked at Sarah with expressions of deepest concern; Hermione particularly so.

Harry had opened his mouth to speak and ask Sarah just what was wrong, but he was cut off by her.

“Right,” she said. Her voice sounded slightly strange. “About that…,” she said softly, glancing up, her eyes darting between Harry and Hermione. She now looked somewhat frightened. “You can’t leave yet. I need to talk to you. In private,” she said, her eyes continuing to dart between the two of them hopefully. Snape looked on, utterly confused.

“In private?” Hermione asked, slightly flustered, “At this time of the day, in the middle of the Ministry, we’ll--,”

“No,” Harry said, cutting her off. “We can talk in private. Come on,” he said, nodding to Sarah and a bewildered Snape.

Without speaking, Harry led the way back out of the Ministry’s cafeteria and into the Atrium’s main hall. The crowd had died down slightly as the lunch hour had worn on, but it was still quite crowded. Even so, he led them determinedly through the Atrium up to the place where several golden grilles stood, and many witches and wizards were waiting for lifts to take them to different levels of the Ministry’s complex. Luckily, he found a lift where nobody was waiting. Stepping up to it, he punched the lift button and waited. Hermione, Sarah, and Snape all waited beside him.

When the lift arrived, all four of them piled inside quickly, and Harry slammed a button so quickly that none of the others had seen just exactly which one it was. Before any other witches and wizards could invade their privacy, the lift’s golden grilles clanged shut, and the lift sprang into motion. Hermione, Sarah, and Snape could not exactly tell where they were going, as the lift was going up at times, down at times, and side-to-side at others. Soon, however, it screeched to a halt, and the golden grilles slid open before them.

“Department of Mysteries,” spoke a clear female voice.

All parties aside from Harry looked thoroughly surprised, but they could not deny his logic when they stepped out of the lift. The black-stoned, arched, glossy hallway leading in the Department of Mysteries was completely deserted. Its silence felt extremely welcoming after the noise and bustle of the cafeteria and the Atrium. When the lift’s golden grilles clanged shut again, all eyes were upon Sarah.

The girl took several paces down the hall and turned to face all of them. She stood in the center of the hallway, her fists clenched and shaking slightly as she stared resolutely down at the glossy black stone beneath her feet.

“What is it, Sarah?” Harry asked, watching her with concern. For several silent moments, Sarah did not speak. Harry, confused, glanced to Hermione, who was standing at his side. For some reason, Hermione looked as if she were on the verge of tears. Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but was silenced by a nearly imperceptible shaking of Hermione’s head.

Snape remained quite still as he watched the girl, and from somewhere within himself, he could feel a swooping, sinking sensation. Immediately, he realized what she was about to do, and he shot forward, an arm outstretched with the intention of stopping her, but it was too late; the girl, too, had sensed his inner feelings, and spoke before he could interrupt her.

“There’s something wrong with us,” Sarah spoke, her voice oddly deep. It echoed slightly in the empty hall around them.

Snape fell motionless, straightening himself up and crossing his arms tightly as he continued to watch the girl. He was wishing that the girl would have first decided to confide in him the fact that she was planning to reveal the strange symptom of the bond to their friends. Still, he was able to quell any anger he might have felt. He set his jaw and remained silent; it was, after all, only a mere matter of time until everyone would realize it for themselves.

Harry, meanwhile, continued to look quite confused. Hermione still looked as if she were about to cry.

“What--?” Harry spluttered, looking from Sarah, to Hermione, to Snape and back again. Apparently, everyone else was keen on something to which he was clueless. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

Sarah finally raised her head, and her eyes were glistening as tears welled up in them. She did not meet Harry’s eyes, however; she looked straight at Hermione.

“You’ve sensed it, haven’t you?” Sarah asked, staring straight at Hermione. Her fists were still clenched and shaking slightly. “I saw the way you were looking at me the other night. I know you sense it, I know you do,” Sarah said. Then, she suddenly looked as if she were simultaneously angry and disgusted.

Harry, whose jaw was agape, turned to look at Hermione.

Hermione gave a tiny nod. Her entire body appeared rigid. She had noticed something strange, but so far, she had mostly been pushing it to the back of her mind and trying to dismiss it as silliness. Now, however, it appeared as if Sarah were about to openly admit it.

“I did, I--,” Hermione said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “I started noticing it recently. I had hoped it wasn’t true,” she said.

When Sarah remained silent for a few more seconds, Harry continued glancing about at everyone, mouth agape. He watched as Sarah seemed to be chewing on the words that she wished to speak. Then, he fixed himself with a steely look and began to glance around again, but not as he had been before; he was now scanning their surroundings.

Though the corridor leading into the Department of Mysteries was deserted save for them, Harry was suddenly trying to push away the feeling that someone was watching or listening. He steadied himself with a deep breath and then looked back to Sarah. He was probably just imagining things. This was the Department of Mysteries after all. It was probably supposed to feel mysterious, too.

Sarah, at last, looked to Snape and met his eyes. She searched them for any sign of disapproval at what she was about to confide in Harry and Hermione, but she found none. Though she could sense a great deal of trepidation within him, he gave no outward signs that he meant to stop her. He stared back complacently.

Satisfied, Sarah turned back to Harry and Hermione. She looked much calmer now, but her hands still remained clenched at her sides.

“We’re not aging anymore,” she spoke quietly. Instantly, her eyes began scanning back and forth between Harry and Hermione, intent on their reactions. Snape had turned toward them, his eyes moving identically.

Hermione’s reaction was underwhelming, as none of this truly came as any surprise to her. She had begun to suspect the emergence of this strange phenomenon sometime within the last year. It had been underscored for her during Sarah’s birthday party, with the innocent comment Mrs. Weasley had made about Sarah’s youthful appearance. Sarah’s reaction to the comment had been all too telling. Now that Sarah had finally admitted it aloud, she merely nodded her head once, looking somber.

Harry, meanwhile, looked far more surprised. His mouth was hanging open once again, and he rapidly glanced between Sarah and Snape, shaking his head slightly.

“What are you talking about? You can’t have--,” he began, and then looked to Hermione, expecting to find her in a similar state of bewilderment and incredulity. Instead, she looked quite serious and gave another small nod, an attempt to clarify the truth of the matter. “—stopped aging,” he finished weakly, looking back to Sarah.

He was trying his best not to believe it, but the more he gazed upon Sarah, the more suspicious he became. Memories of the past few years were rapidly soaring past his mind’s eye, especially occasions on which he, Sarah, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had all been together. Perhaps, in just the same way that had never noticed himself and Ron growing into men, and Ginny and Hermione transforming into women, he had not noticed that Sarah’s appearance hadn’t changed at all. He straightened up considerably, and with a small gasp, realized that he was looking upon the same Sarah he first met when they had been eighteen years old.

Then he turned to Snape, who was staring back at him steadily, his arms crossed and a somewhat sour expression on his face. This characteristic appearance and mannerism was all that Harry needed to instantly realize that the same was true about him, too; Snape, who was much older than Sarah, should be beginning to show his age much more readily than she should have been, yet the man did not bare any signs to imply that he had aged a day since the moment he had woken up on the floor of the Forbidden Forest with half of Sarah’s soul fused into his body.

Then, for an instant, Harry’s eyes flickered up above Snape; for a split second, he could have sworn that he saw someone at the end of the hall, very near to the door which led into the heart of the Department of Mysteries. When he saw no one, he looked back to his friends, and he let out a deep sigh, as if his dawning acceptance of the truth had stolen the breath from his lungs.

“Why are you telling this to us now?” Harry asked, looking between Sarah and Snape. His attention caught when Snape ceased staring him down and turned to look at Sarah; apparently, Snape was equally unaware of why Sarah had suddenly decided to divulge this information, and he was eager to find out.

Sarah took a deep breath and was about to speak when Harry suddenly silenced her. He had just felt another unnerving twinge of suspicion that somebody was watching them and listening to their every word.

“Wait,” he said, raising his palm, his eyes scanning their surroundings again. When he was sure that Sarah was not going to further explain her decision, he spoke again. “I think we should go somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation. Sometime soon,” he said, looking to Hermione, who looked over at him and gave a curt nod in reply. “Beside, that’s quite enough for Hermione and I to digest in one day, don’t you think?”

Sarah sighed and gave a nod of agreement. Snape, meanwhile, was looking utterly irritated. He was quite keen on finding out exactly why Sarah had decided to reveal their strange circumstance.

“We’ll go,” said Sarah, and her hands unfurled at her sides. Suddenly, she had lost the verve which had driven her resolve to tell Harry and Hermione what was going on; she sounded utterly defeated, and she hung her head. “You two are probably overdue for getting back to work, anyway. Feel free to tell Ron and Ginny,” she said, and without looking up from the glossy tiled floor at her feet, pushed past her friends and made her way toward the golden grilles of the lift.

As if it were reflex, Snape sprang after her, shadowing her footsteps. He could also feel the guilt and trepidation swirling within her.

Sarah pushed the lift button, and the single, clear tone of a bell echoed throughout the empty corridor as the grilles slid open. Without looking back, she stepped inside, and she could sense Snape’s presence closely beside her.

“Sarah,” Harry spoke loudly, watching as she retreated into the lift.

Sarah consented to look up at him and saw that Hermione was watching her intently as well, looks of deepest concern painted across their faces.

“We’ll see you soon,” Harry said, and he tried to infuse every last ounce of sincerity he possessed into his voice. At his side, Hermione nodded vigorously several times, her mane of bushy brown hair bouncing. Then, Harry’s bright green eyes pleadingly scanned Sarah’s face as well as Snape’s.

Sarah only stared back sadly, and Snape appeared to possess equal parts of seriousness and confusion, as if he did not quite know what to say.

Then, just as the lift’s golden grilles were sliding closed, Sarah met Harry’s eyes directly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and before Harry had a chance to reply, the grilles clanged shut, and the lift sprang into motion, whisking them back up to the Atrium from where they could depart the Ministry.

Sarah closed her eyes and looked away from the spot where Harry and Hermione had just disappeared from view, guilt welling up in her so intensely that it formed a sizeable lump in her throat. As far as she was concerned, she had already put her friends, especially Harry, through quite enough trials and tribulations for her sake. Now, however, she had just burdened them with the frightening news that she and Snape had ceased aging.

As the lift dragged she and Snape back toward the Atrium, she could not help but dread what new sorts of perils she was about to drag them into.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was some time later when Hermione finally got to her feet again. After Sarah and Snape’s sudden departure, she and Harry had remained in the deserted Department of Mysteries corridor for quite a while, mostly in silence, attempting to digest the reality of what they had just heard. A short while ago, Harry had finally left her company in order to return to work. She had stayed, however, sitting slumped against the wall of the corridor, very near to the lift, her brain buzzing away in an attempt to process the situation. Very unlike herself, she did not feel extremely pressed at the moment to return to work. She believed that she now had far more serious things to worry about than re-negotiating age-old sanctions against the importations of sphinxes or assessing recent reports on Europe’s dragon population.

She stood, straightening her clothes and attempting to tame her hair a bit by combing her fingers through it. She knew she would have to try and get back to her work, albeit distractedly.

Approaching the lift, she pressed the button to call it into service, but jumped backward with a squeak when, to her surprise, the bell clanged and the golden grilles slid apart instantly; Harry had left with the lift after waiting for it to return following Sarah and Snape’s departure, but she had not heard it return to this level, nor had anyone come out of its doors. As far as she knew, it shouldn’t be there.

Despite this, the grilles had slid open, revealing a tall figure whose appearance shocked her even more thoroughly than the mysterious presence of the lift.

A tall man stood before her, strangely clad in flowing white robes, which were an oddity in comparison to other colors usually worn by most of the Wizarding community, whether casually or for business. He looked a tiny bit gaunt, and his features were finely chiseled, with high, sharp cheekbones. He bore the look of a man who had not had a haircut in a significant amount of time; his golden-blonde hair fell in loose and untidy tendrils slightly past shoulder length, and a couple of thin strands hung down in front of his face. Along his jaw was a short angular beard, identical in color to his hair.

Hermione’s breath was caught in her throat, and she stood paralyzed, staring up into his amber eyes. As he stared back down at her, she could not fight away the small shiver that ran down her spine; for some reason, his eyes held a cold, dead look.

“Pardon me,” he said, and his voice was unusually deep. He casually extended one of his arms to the side so that it would block the lift’s doors closing again. “I seem to have startled you. I apologize,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed at last, stammering slightly, “No, no, I—I just--- it’s alright.”

“Miss Granger, is it?” he asked, carefully stepping around the girl, all the while maintaining eye contact with her. “Of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?”

For some reason, Hermione found that she could not look away from him. He was now framed in the center of the dark, empty corridor which stretched onward behind him, leading toward the ever-mysterious door into the unknown.

“Y- yes,” Hermione replied with a few quick nods.

“I witnessed you dining today in the company of the famous Harry Potter and a couple of other individuals, guests,” he said, his deep voice remaining quite even. Somehow, it sounded quite devoid of emotion or feeling. While something like this might constitute casual cordial conversation for other people, he sounded more as if he were reciting an arithmancy formula.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, still gazing steadily into Hermione’s eyes.

Hermione nodded quickly several more times.

“A former professor of ours,” she supplied, her voice a little shaky, “And his--,” she hesitated for a moment, “--assistant.”

“I see,” he stated. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said, indicating the empty lift behind her. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger.” Then, after raising a single palm as a gesture of recognition, he turned and swept off down the corridor, his white robes flowing behind him. When he reached the door which led into the Department of Mysteries, it opened for him of its own accord, and when he disappeared within, it shut itself with an ominously echoing slam.

Hermione continued staring down the corridor for a few moments until the clang of the lift grilles sliding shut again pulled her back into reality. Shaking her head rapidly as if she were trying to get water out of her ears, she hit the lift button, and the grilles slid open again. She stepped inside and pressed a button without really watching what she was doing.

Had that been who she thought it was? If so, she had just met someone who was little more than a myth inside the Ministry of Magic. As it was rumored, that man rarely venture outside of his Department, let alone outside of the Ministry itself. Few people working at the Ministry had ever even seen him, let alone talked to him.

Had she really just met the Head of the Department of Mysteries?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Meanwhile, a short distance away on a busy London street, Sarah and Snape were walking closely side-by-side. Sarah had not spoken a word to him since they had left their friends down in the Ministry, and Snape, despite his eagerness to perform an inquisition, had remained silent thus far.

By taking a few side streets, the midday crowds of Muggle Londoners around them dissipated, and they soon found themselves in a very small and familiar alleyway. Even though the sun was shining brightly on this summer’s day, the alley remained unnaturally dark, casting deep shadows and securely cloaking those who entered it. From here it was safest to Apparate and Disapparate.

Snape held out his arm for the girl, as was customary, but she did not immediately lock her arm in his. She paused, looking at him.

“I know you want to know why I decided to tell them,” she said. It was impossible for her to ignore the way he had been acting since she had told Harry and Hermione, let alone for her to not sense the fear and concern inside him.

She took a deep breath. Through the shadows of the alleyway, she looked up into his eyes.

“We need their help,” she explained, finally locking her arm in his.

He was compelled to ask why, but bit his tongue.

With a sigh, she looked away from him. For a moment, he expected her to say no more, and he began pulling them both into the nothingness of Apparition.

Just before they disappeared, however, he heard her voice, quite loudly and quite clearly.

“I want to find a way to get your soul back.”


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A/N: I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2! As you can see, it ended up being quite longer than Chapter 1, but I hope you all found this favorable. I also hope you enjoyed the lemon!

Please leave a review if you would be so kind. Remember, if you would like me to add you to an update list for this story so that I will send you e-mail notifications when I add a new chapter, please e-mail me at Raug397@yahoo.com or leave your e-mail address in a review.

ALSO, if you were on my e-mail update list for the original The Name in Red and you are reading this, let me know if you would like to continue receiving update notifications. I sent out a notification to everyone for Chapter 1 in order to let everyone know I was starting a sequel, but I don't want to keep spamming everybody when I update if you do not want to receive updates anymore. Henceforth, I will only be sending e-mail notifications to people who specifically tell me they would like to be on (or stay on) the update list.

Thank you so much for reading. Stay tuned =)