In Need

~~**~~

...Severus was interrupted from completing the killing curse on himself by a swift foot kicking the wand out of his hand, sending it flying to the other side of the clearing. “Wait!” shouted Harry, looking aghast at him, his face ashen. “What are you *doing*?”


He was on his feet in an instant and seized Harry by the collar. Snape’s eyes were dangerous and their expression was beyond hatred. He put his face so close to Harry’s that the young man could actually feel Snape’s fevered breath on him, along with the droplets of spittle that flung out like a mad animal’s. Harry recoiled and tried to pull away, but the lean arm held him like an iron bar. With one hand still grasping Harry, Snape stormed off to look for his wand.


“Hold *on*!” shouted Harry, kicking Snape on the shin as hard as he could and wrenching away from his grasp. “Have you gone MAD? For God’s sake, Professor, we *told* you that we were going to get *help*!”


Snape stopped in his tracks at those words and stared in stunned silence at Harry, who was keeping a wary distance and panting as he tried to catch his breath. He felt like every moment that passed and every thing that happened was bringing him steadily closer to losing his mind completely. His heart felt like a piece of wax melting inside of him and nothing made sense.


The next moment, Dumbledore apparated back into the clearing with a reverberating cracking sound, closely followed by four women with long green hair who were dressed in twilight colored robes. Severus stared at them, his breath catching in his throat. He walked rather unsteadily over to Dumbledore, entirely unable to take his eyes off the women who were now kneeling on the ground and pressing their hands onto it. They closed their eyes and appeared to be listening intently for something.


“What...?” Severus finally managed to ask.


“Severus, these are the earth mages I told you we were going to try to find,” said Dumbledore. Observing that no comprehension registered in Severus’ expression, Dumbledore’s own already-worried expression became even more so. “They are here to see if anything can be done for Megan, my boy,” he said, taking Severus by the shoulders and looking at him carefully.


Severus became agitated. “*Done* for Megan? What do you mean?”


The eldest of the four earth mages came over to Severus and looked at him with warmth and sympathy. She introduced herself as Thessaly and spoke with him as the other three continued working at the spot where Megan had sunk. “I will not try to gloss over the gravity of the situation, because based on what Albus described there is a strong chance that she was mortally wounded. But...” she hesitated, appearing to be choosing her words carefully, “the fact that she sank into the earth instead of merely falling onto it when wounded raises a question about her demise.”


“What does falling into the ground have to do with anything?” demanded Severus. “Was that not just part of the magic that wounded her?”


Thessaly looked surprised and said, “No, certainly not. The earth is the source of power for our kind. We are able to intentionally heal ourselves with it, and there have been cases reported of the magic taking over when the mage cannot act for herself. These cases are rare and the documentation for them is so old that we have no way to verify their claims, but their sources have been quite reliable in other circumstances.”


Severus stared at her, and for the second time that day the ground felt like it was reeling under his feet. His mind was racing, trying both to comprehend and also to squelch the desperate lurch of hope that had tried to enter his imagination. He looked once more at Thessaly and the other mages, now really seeing them for the first time. As they knelt on the ground and consulted with each other, tiny birds flitted down out of the trees and lighted on their heads and shoulders, peering down curiously with tiny wet eyes like black glass beads. Even as Thessaly stood there, the ground - scorched by spells and fire - began to sprout small ferns and other forest plants which curled up around her feet.


“Do not speak of such possibilities,” Severus said with a grimace. “I cannot bear it. I will cling to any shred you give me and then die once more when you tell me that there is nothing to hope for after all.”


Thessaly nodded and said, “Very well. I will say no more for the moment. Please excuse me.”


She turned from them and joined the other three mages. After a brief consultation, the one called Marie stood apart from them and sank down into the ground.


“What’s happening?” asked Harry, who was feeling the effects of the day beginning to weigh on him.


“She is going to look at Megan,” said Dumbledore, evaluating Harry’s appearance. “You aren’t looking well, Harry. How do you feel?”


Harry couldn’t even begin to answer that question after all that had happened that day. All he really wanted to do was go somewhere and sleep for about a hundred years. “I’m alright, sir - just tired.”


“Can you wait here for just a little while longer, my boy? I don’t want you to leave alone, but do not wish to leave until I know what the earth mages have said about Megan.”


Harry had seen Dumbledore looking especially old and tired over the years that he had known him, especially during the times that things had been the darkest. He was not surprised, therefore, to see Dumbledore looking that way again after just having been through the war. He noticed a particular sadness now, though, in addition to the tiredness, and was somewhat surprised to not see at least some small indication of relief that Voldemort had been defeated.


“That’s fine,” he said, and leaned against a tree. His scar felt funny, but he didn’t want to bother Dumbledore about it given everything else he still had to deal with. Voldemort was dead, so the scar was no longer cause for alarm.


The earth mage reappeared after a few minutes, gliding up out of the ground like a plant growing in fast-forward. She approached the group and solemnly said, “The wound is still open... but she is alive.”


------------------------------------------------------------------


It was late in the evening - well past the regular visiting hours actually, but no one at St. Mungo’s even considered sending the Weasley family home. Arthur and Molly Weasley sat in a small room in the magical injuries ward watching George’s pale face through the helpless eyes of parents who are watching one of their children in peril and unable to do anything more to help. Fred was in George\'s room with their parents - his eyes were rimmed with red and he stared helplessly at his twin.

~~**~~

Earlier, a griefstruck Arthur had made his way to Molly as quickly as he could through the chaos of the war’s aftermath. He hoped to tell her about Percy’s death before she heard it from a stranger. Her wrenching screams and sobs were muffled against his chest as she gathered up handfuls of his robes in her hands, and all he could do was stand there and hold her. He was flooded with grief and rage at his impotence against the chain of events that had ended with the unthinkable - losing one of his children. Gone forever were any remaining hopes of eventual reconciliation with Percy, and changed forever was the domestic sanctity of his family.


“No!” wailed Molly, feeling as though a part of herself had died along with her son. “No, it can’t be! Oh Arthur...”


And then he lea tha that she had news for him too... While not of the caliber that he’d tod to deliver, it was ominous nonetheless. He felt like an icy hand closed around his throat as she gave him the news that George had been seriously injured, and it strained his sickened heart past what he had previously believed to be its limit.


“The rest?” he demanded anxiously.


“Safe.”


~~**~~


The Weasley siblings gathered in the waiting room in the ward for magical injuries, waiting for updates from their parents or the healers. The spell that had paralyzed George was a strong and complicated one, and the healers working on him were having trouble reversing its effects. He was currently being kept alive by spells that maintained his breathing and circulation for him, and he was unresponsive to anyone around him.


Ginny sat in a large hideously green armchair with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her chin resting on her knees. Bill sat in the matching chair next to her, bent over with his elbows resting on his thighs and his fingers laced behind his head. Ron sat awkwardly off to the side with a helpless and sad expression, distractedly picking up magazines and then putting them down again without having looked at them. Ron and Ginny had seen Hermione earlier, before she was sent home to Hogwarts in Madam Pomfrey’s care with a two-day supply of dreamless sleeping potion.


Charlie, who had been tied up at Hogwarts tending the dragons and waiting for the veterinarian to check them over, hurried into the waiting room and heard the news about Percy and George. He brusquely wiped away the tears that washed trails through the grimy soot that he hadn’t yet had time to wash off his face onto his even grimier sleeve.


“C’mere,” said Bill, sitting up and holding out an arm. Charlie gratefully accepted the brotherly shoulder to cry on - the brawny and fearless man that everyone else saw when they looked at him could find the refuge that his heart needed among these people who knew him best.


Together, the family began the exhausting work of waiting.


--------------------------------------------


Harry got up quietly in the darkness of the infirmary and transfigured his nightshirt into jeans and a sweater. He stepped into his shoes, kissed the soundly sleeping Hermione gently on her forehead, and ducked under his invisibility cloak. He eased the main gate open and sneaked out, looked around to see if anyone had followed him, and then quietly closed it behind himself. He had pretended to fall asleep under the watchful eyes that had been concerned about him, but even for as exhausted as he truly felt, there was no way he was going to end his day without seeing the Weasleys.


He apparated to London, landing outside of St. Mungo’s hospital. He took off his cloak and walked up to the reception desk. “Can you tell me where George Weasley is, please?” he asked.


Without looking up, the receptionist impatiently pointed to the ward directory posted on the wall behind her and continued writing what looked like a letter to a boyfriend. Harry tutted and said with audible annoyance, “Look, you might say that I’ve had rather a day. Can you just please look it up and tell me where he is? It is urgent that I see his family. Now.”


With an irate snap of her chewing gum, the receptionist looked up from her letter with a nasty glare. “Listen, pal,” she drawled, “I don’t know who you think you are coming in here and...” then she recognized him and shut up.


Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.


“You’re not...” she said.


“Afraid so,” he said.


“AAAHHHHHHH!” she screamedI caI can’t believe you’re here in *person*!”


Harry was about three seconds away from beating his head against the guest register in frustration. “Please, could you just...”


Her eyes were bright and excited. “Hold on just a second - my friend has *got* to see you. Is it alright if she takes a picture of us together?” Without waiting for a reply, she zipped off.


Muttering under his breath, Harry climbed over the desk and stepped into the work area. He looked at the thick registry book, unsure how to use it but quite certain that he could figure it out faster than it would take to get an answer from the receptionist. After a few fruitless attempts to open the book, he said “George Weasleyd tad tapped it with his wand. Immediately, the huge tome thumped open and the parchment pages riffled crisply to the entry he wanted. Taking mental note of the floor and room number, Harry hopped back over the desk and found the stairwell.


~~**~~


“Oh, Harry!” said Ginny, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. Ron came over and hugged him from the other side. It was almost too much to believe that the thing they had been waiting for all these years had really come to pass.


They all heard brief accounts of each other’s part in the day, reserving any real discussion for a more stable time. For now, they were grateful to be together but didn\'t really feel like talking. Harry felt an enormous welling up of guilt over George’s condition and longed to be able to see him, but the healers thought it best to limit his visitors until he got stronger. Ginny led Harry to the hideous green armchair that she’d been sitting in and patted it. They squeezed into it next to each other and the waiting started again.


~~**~~


The hands of the clock crept forward through the night and Harry finally gave in to sleep, resting his head against Ginny’s shoulder. The Weasleys dozed on and off as well, and a kindly orderly came through at one point to offer tea to all of them. Finally, Arthur and Molly came out of George’s room with their arm around Fred and roused their children. “Come on, darlings,” said Arthur. “We all need to get some rest.”


Ginny yawned and stretched and gave Harry a gentle nudge. “Come on, Har - we’re going home. You can stay with us at the Burrow and we’ll come back here tomorrow.”


He didn’t budge. “Harry?” Ginnyed aed again, giving him a little shake. “Come on, hon, we’re going.”


Ron stepped over Bill’s legs, feeling alarm rising inside himself. “Is he alright, Ginny? God, I knew we should have made him go back to the infirmary after he had a chance to see us.”


He patted Harry on the cheeks and got no response. Ginny stood up, and with her support removed, Harry slumped over in the chair and his head lolled forward. His hair flopped to the side and revealed that his scar had turned black and bubbly.


“Someone get a healer over here!” cried Ron.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


A/N - To my dear readers - thank you so much for coming this far with me. These last couple of pieces were especially hard to do - I had the war chapter written in August and have been dragging my feet to actually get around to it. I apologize to anyone who thought it was the end of the story - no way would I cut you off without wrapping things up in some way or another.

Many many heartfelt thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or emailed - I so adore all of you! I see the hits for the story racking up, but you are the ones who tell me what I really want to know - \'How is it being received?\' I know it sounds a little cheesy, but it really does make a difference in how motivated I am to keep up with this to know that people look forward to it and care about both its progress and its integrity. So, again, thank you all for your praise and suggestions. You so kick ass.

I promise that everything in the story has been done on purpose and is not due to naivete, but James Joyce I am not and when I read over old chapters, I sometimes cringe at how hamfisted I can be about trying to get my ideas across. The story is actually way better in my head, but I do appreciate that you have liked what I\'ve been able to wring out of it. :-)

**Just to let you know, I will be traveling again next week, this time for work, boo hiss. So there won\'t be an update next weekend like I had hoped, but I will do one as soon as I can after that.

Final A/N note - thanks to Neil Gaiman and his marvelous Sandman series for not only providing me with some totally cool names that I am going to continue to cop, but also for providing a large piece of my inspiration for Severus Snape\'s character.

Maggie - I\'m so sorry!!! I know it was a doozy of a cliffhanger. Thank you so much, as always, for your comments! You have been there through the whole thing and I really can\'t tell you how much I appreciate you.

deblovesdragon - Hey there - please don\'t feel bad about your feelings - different characters are supposed to cause different reactions. Thank you so much for all of your feedback - I always love hearing from you. I know - you\'ll think I\'m a dork for it, but *I* was broken up about what happened and I was the one writing it. (See, I warned you I was a dork.)

Barrie - ::grovels:: I know, I know. Sorry, sweetie - the muses made me do it.

Droxy - You are too cool - sorry for the cliffhanger, and thank you so much for your comments - as always, you totally make my day.

Ellen - Thanks, thanks, and thanks! Welcome to the story and thank you for all that you had to say about it! I\'m really glad that you\'ve enjoyed it and hope that you continue to. When I started this, it was basically to make a story that I would enjoy reading (again, I\'m a dork - see earlier comment for reference), and I am blown away that others have had such strong responses to it. But I still like using conjunctions at the start of sentences. ;-) Tee hee! Seriously though, you are correct about my grammar not being correct sometimes. I do a lot of public speaking where I need to do \'shoot from the hip\' kind of talks and have found in the preparation of my material that (wince) bad grammar actually sounds more natural and appeals to whatever glimmer of aesthetic sense that I have. I write the way that I speak, so it comes out there too. We have got a sprinkling of split infinitives and a dollop of dangling participles, too, if I\'m not mistaken. Having said that, I have never had a more flattering reference to my grammar errors! :-D (And pshaw to you for saying mean things about yourself for offering the critique!)

Mary Beth - Sorry for the cliffhanger, hon - sorry also that it will take a little more time before you have answers, but I promise that they will come and I will keep up with it as quickly as I can.

Heike - Wow, thanks! I\'m so glad that you enjoy the story, and I will update as often as I can. Viele herzlichen Gruesse, und meld\' dich wieder an.

Captain AndersoD. -D. - I just got your second email, which totally blew me away! I normally don\'t include emails in this section, but I just had to thank you for your incredible comments and your support! Readers like you are a writer\'s dream, and you are almost unnervingly perceptive to boot re: my personal interaction w/ the story.