In Need

~~**~~

The Weasleys were gathered around the table at the Burrow with the intention of having a family discussion, but no one was talking. Fred still looked as though he was in a trance. Ron sat next to him, his boyish looks hardened over the last few days into grim protectiveness. Ginny stared at the pattern on the tablecloth and idly tapped her teeth with her fingertip, one ear at the window for an owl with news of Harry. Charlie was at Hogwarts filling in for Hagrid during his recovery, and Bill was at work scouting treasure, desperate for some distraction.


Arthur rested his elbow on the table and held his forehead in his hand. His eyes were closed and he was trying to think about whether or not to accept the position as Minister of Magic. His diplomacy skills, honesty, interest in muggle affairs, and affinity for magical creatures were the reasons he had been asked, but he doubted his qualifications nonetheless. His magic was competent enough, but he was fully aware that it didn’t approach the likes of Albus Dumbledore. His acceptance as head of the Ministry would keep it in place as a largely political role and his honest nature struggled with the ethics of it. At the same time, if Fudge was resigning and the Ministry was about to face internal overhaul, Arthur could think of no one qualified to replace him and restore the position to its old level of magical guidance who would actually be willing to do it.


Molly got up to make some tea and tried not to look at the grandfather clock in the corner. It had a hand for each member of their family, indicating their whereabouts and if they were in need of assistance. Two of the hands on the clock had sunk out of sight when their owners had died. One of the other hands had caused her to fret over the last few years, and it was the case again tonight. Bill was good at what he did, she knew, but the reality of his work as a treasure hunter meant his placing himself in some pretty tight spots at times and she was angry with him for going today. Despite wanting to avoid it, she glanced at the clock anyway and was somewhat consoled to see that his hand still pointed strongly to “At Work.”


All of the Weasleys present jumped at the loud knock at the door. Arthur opened it to find Harry standing there in the doorway, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and his broomstick in his hand. He managed to ask, “Can I stay here with you for awhile?” before they nearly squashed him with tearful hugs.


While he had planned to visit them upon his release from St. Mungo’s, the wish to stay with him had been inspired by the reporters who lay in wait for him at Hogwarts and who seemed to appear out of nowhere to ask him questions. He packed a few things and headed for the Burrow. Although it was dark outside, he knew the way perfectly well by now and flew high and fast to reach them there. Despite the memorial service the next morning, they talked long into the night, none of them wanting to leave the warmth of their companionship.


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The day of remembrance dawned chilly and cloudy. The sky threatened to break into a cold late-winter rain at any moment, and the still-bare branches of the trees shuddered in dark silhouette against the iron-gray sky when the harder gusts of the cold breeze skidded across the lake. There were too many coming to fit into the usual places of gathering, so chairs were set up on the lakeside at Hogwarts. The gentle rise of the bank went back quite far and allowed for arranging the seats in a natural curve that faced the simple dais in front at the water’s edge.


For several days after the battle was over, there had been celebration like the wizarding world had not seen in ages. For as reluctant as everyone had been three years ago to admit that the dreaded Voldemort had really come back into power, they finally had come around to accepting it as fact. The horror and dread that came with that acceptance were matched only by their grateful relief upon learning that he was finally dead once and for all.


While most of the wizarding world had been swept up in ongoing celebration, all prepared to honor the day that had been set aside for solemnity - even those most distant and uninvolved realized that there had been a cost for the defeat. The festive jewel-toned cloaks and robes were put away in exchange for black ones, and hats decked out in feathers, flowers, and baubles were put away in exchange for plain hats. Wool and heavy silk crepe were laid out and donned, and the magical community made their way to the gathering.


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A speck appeared in the sky, far off but rapidly approaching. As it got closer, it became apparent that the object was quite large, and those who saw it could soon make out the outline of a coach drawn by enormous horses. By the time it was over Hogwarts and circling to land, it was plain to see that the coach was actually as large as a small house. As the hooves of the gigantic horses touched the ground and ran forward, the coachmen drew them to a gentle halt and the footman jumped down from his seat and opened the door, pulling down the step for the passengers to exit. An enormous foot in a feminine black shoe was soon followed by the rest of Madame Olympe Maxime of Beauxbatons. She, like the rest of the guests, was dressed in black, and her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek twist.


Her face showed little of how anxious she was to be there and find the object of her intentions, but her voice was strained as she turned back to the open door of the coach and said in French, “Come, Fleur. We must not dawdle.”


Fleur Delacour stepped down to the ground a moment later. She was as lovely as ever and ran a quick hand over her shimmering hair, frowning as the wind pulled at it. “My apologies Madame,” she said, looking through a folder of neatly arranged parchments and walking quickly to keep up with the long strides of Madame Maxime. “I’ll make any further arrangements that you will need and inform you of them at dinner. Why don’t you go visit your friend now? There is still nearly an hour before the service will begin.”


“Yes, thank you, Fleur.” The headmistress of Beauxbatons walked quickly toward the gamekeeper’s cottage, thinking no further of what her schedule for the next several days would hold. Taking Fleur on as her personal assistant had proved to be a good decision - the young woman, once one of the top students at Beauxbatons now handled her new position capably.


~~**~~


More began to arrive. Witches, wizards, and an assortment of magical creatures gathered at the lakeside. House elves crept forward in twos and threes, bundled in rags against the cold. From the forest came a small band of centaurs who walked solemnly to the edge of the seating and stood wordlessly, peacefully standing by Firenze. From the water, music began - the merfolk of the lake sang in haunting voices that were amplified on the water’s surface and reverberated off the surrounding hills, filling the air with ethereal sound. The music was strong and polyphonic, with fluid harmonies of various themes weaving one into another, leaving listeners with the feeling that they were hearing something noble, sorrowful, and triumphant all at the same time.


For his final public duty as Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was present to hand out the awards. The address was to be given by Albus Dumbledore, but at the moment he was busy showing two muggles to their seats up front and introducing them to certain people along the way. Alison Waters, who thought upon meeting Hagrid that she had seen everything, leaned against John and squeezed his hand (who happened to be equally astounded) as Firenze approached them.


“Are you the parents of Megan?” he asked them, looking down at them with his intense blue eyes.


“Yes,” said Alison, wishing desperately that she knew the proper way to greet someone like him. She had seen pictures of such creatures in storybooks, but had no idea that they really existed, and was nearly choking with awe that she was standing here with one in the flesh. “Do you know her?” If she had been there under happier circumstances, she would have been torn between taking in as much in as she could of the magical world, and pausing in her exploration to ask Kelly about why she had kept so much of this world a secret. Alison Waters realized in that moment that her daughter had probably filtered information on purpose and had been trying in her own way to protect her and John, trying to fit into their world even for as different as she actually was. She had done a good job of keeping up appearances and fitting in, but Alison vowed that if - no, when - Kelly got better, she would make a determined effort to get to know her as Megan - the Megan of this world.


Firenze was also struggling with how to speak to them. Since most wizards typically found the language of centaurs to be cryptic or archaic, he doubted that a muggle would expect or want an accurate answer as much as they would want a brief one. He nodded at Alison’s question and said, “We are friends, and I know that she is missed by many. We all wish for her recovery.” It was no small thing for Firenze to have been present that day. Lacking the ability to apparate himself, on the day of the battle he had been whisked away by the wizard assigned to transport him before he had a chance to learn anything. The humans had just wanted to get the battle scene cleared up as quickly as possible once Voldemort was killed, so Firenze had been returned to Hogwarts with the belief that Megan was dead and with the belief that it was partly his fault for not catching her to prevent her action.


Besides the sense of loss for his friend, he also had felt betrayed. It was extremely taboo for a centaur to carry a human, but he had done it for her as he had done it one other time for Harry. Both had come at a cost, and he vowed that night to have nothing more to do with humans and their callow foolishness. By the time Dumbledore came to him, he had nearly kicked apart his grotto and was determined to return to the forest where he belonged even if it meant his death, for he could stand to be among these creatures no more. After hearing Dumbledore’s news and tactful diplomacy, Firenze’s palomino sides stopped heaving, his hooves stopped scuffing restlessly, and his wild face calmed to its usual expression. He agreed to stay and proceeded to restore what needed to be repaired.


Dumbledore sat in the front row with the Waters’, wondering where Severus was. Everyone else who needed to be there already was and it was nearly time to begin the service. Dumbledore finally saw him in the distance, coming into the grounds through the front gates. Noting the crowd, Severus approached them in no particular hurry.


Everyone fell silent as Dumbledore walked forward to the dais. He seemed older than usual today, and his eyes were flat and dull. He looked over the sea of people and magical creatures that had gathered and began, “Today we have come together to thank those who fought against Voldemort and aided in his defeat, and to say goodbye to those whose lives were cut short in that pursuit.”


John Waters looked at the kindly looking red-haired woman a few chairs down who turned to her husband and began to cry in his arms. The row of red-haired young people next to them (and the one brown-haired one with the odd mark on his head) displayed various expressions from stoic to tearful. All around them, others were reacting much the same, and John Waters could not help but experience a wave of fear for his own daughter, hoping with all of his will that he would not need to let her go just yet. He felt deeply for the parents around him who were saying goodbye today, and dreaded being in their shoes.


“While they will live in our hearts and memories forever, we will miss them dearly in this lifetime. We begin the work of living our lives without them, and will face the many ways that their lives touched our own. They are our sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, friends, and colleagues, and each in his or her own way has touched us in ways that have made us who we are.” It was all Severus could do to remain in his chair and listen to the rest. Each word was like a nail scraping over his raw insides. He had visited the site that morning where she remained in the ground, with the intent of securing the wards to prevent anyone visiting the memorial whose construction had already begun from entering her area and altering anything that could interfere with the earth’s tedious work of healing her. Once satisfied with their security, though, a feeling of futility and hopelessness washed over him. Waiting in the face of such uncertainty was wearing heavily upon him, especially when her condition did not seem to have changed significantly.


The names of those who died in Voldemort’s defeat were read. As each one was named, a glowing luminescenbblebble that flickered inside pulled itself out from the chest of each who had been family to the deceased. In the many cases where there were several bubbles for one person, they swirled together and congealed into a single one to represent the one person. As the luminescent globes floated out to the lake, they left trails of light behind them. They lighted gently on the water’s surface and floated there, flickering brightly on the cold gray water. Fred watched George’s light pull itself out from him and leave and wanted nothing more than to push it back inside of himself. He knew that it was symbolic, but the thing that it represented was still impossible to him. He felt Percy’s bubble leave him as well, but it was nothing like that of his twin’s.


A moment later, he understood the sympathetic look that Ron’s classmate Parvati had given him and his resentment of it softened as he watched her own twin’s fire pulling itself away from her. He looked sadly at her, and recognized the empty helpless look as she watched Padma’s bubble float gently toward the lake. As the list of names was finished, the haunting melody returned, this time more gently. Those gathered waited, each in his or her own way, while the song was sung. Those more removed enjoyed it and felt glad about having come to pay their respects on such an important occasion. Those for whom a part of themselves lay burning on the water in front of them began to feel the reality of their parting.


As the song ended, Dumbledore returned to his place next to Alison and John Waters and Cornelius Fudge stood up to speak. “All those who had a part in this have honored our community with their bravery and integrity. It is never easy,” and here his voice caught, “to do the right thing in the face of adversity and disbelief. We as a magical community owe this resistance our gratitude and our thanks. Whatcan offeoffer in the way of honorifics cannot match the risk and sacrifice they took upon themselves, but we offer them as symbols to them of our thanks and symbols to ourselves of how important it is to face truth, no matter how unwelcome.


Because of the magnitude of this resistance and the importance of their achievement, the Ministry of Magic has created a class of recognition that throughout history, all who receive it will point back to this occasion and this group of colleagues as its origin. Your bravery will be looked up to as example by the generations who follow you, and will set an example for cooperation among magical beings of varying heritages.” At this, the centaurs nodded appreciatively. “The new honorific is named the Order of the Phoenix. May all who receive it, both in person and posthumously, be recognized as protectors of truth and foes of those who would bring harm to our community.”


Another list of names was read, and a medal was given for each who had fought in the resistance, both humans and magical creatures alike. The medals hung on wide ribbons and were made of a heavy goldish metal that was warm to the touch and seemed to glow as if lit internally. Each was cast in the shape of a phoenix with its wings spread. As each person was called, either they or someone representing them came forward to receive their medal. Some said a few words, and others took it in silence. When Megan’s name was read, most expected Severus Snape to accept it for her and some expected the muggles next to him that they expected were her parents to accept it for her. No one expected what actually happened - Albus Dumbledore walked slowly to the dais and took the medal from a perplexed Cornelius Fudge.


Stunned silence followed his words, “I accept this for Megan Waters - that is, Megan Dumbledore Medgrae Waters - as her nearest living blood relative. Her parents, Morphend And Astrid Medgrae died at Voldemort’s hand many years ago, and she fought valiantly for their sake as much as for all of ours.”


Stopping himself from staring blankly at Dumbledore, Fudge continued with the list and presentations. Once all who had been part of the battle had been recognized, he awarded medals of St. Mungo the Healer to all who had served in triage and as healers to the wounded. The medals were platinum stars hung on wide blue ribbons with symbols for healing potions on each point of the star.


Finally, there was one more award with only three recipients. Fudge said, “Many have lost their lives over the years of this struggle, but thanks to the tireless efforts and self-sacrifice of one that we shall name, many lives were spared which might otherwise have been lost. Facing daily risk for nearly two decades to collect first-hand information from Voldemort and secretly bring it to those banded against him in resistance, Severus Snape has been of invaluable service to the magical community. During this time he was also a leading member of those designing and carrying out the protection of Harry Potter. Additionally, it is thanks to his research efforts that the Order was able to collectively and preemptively face Voldemort instead of waiting for him to find and face us in his own time. For this exceptional and dedicated service, I call you forward and present you with the Order of Merlin, first class.” Those who had not known of Snape’s part in the resistance watched in disbelief as he reluctantly stepped forward and somberly allowed the medal to be placed around his neck. Applause broke out as the realization sunk in, and he scowled and returned to his chair. He removed the medal and handed it to Alison Waters who was already holding his and Megan’s phoenixes.


Fudge continued, “Without the leadership and integrity of Albus Dumbledore, our community would have faced damage and discord on a level of which few of us can conceive. His magical skill has maintained the security of Hogwarts, the borders of our magical communities, and the protection of mixed homes that some in our world share with nonmagical folk. As the eye who watches over much and the heart that falters at no challenge, today Albus Dumbledore becomes the first person in history to receive a second medal of the Order of Merlin, first class.” Applause thundered as Dumbledore stepped forward to accept.


“Finally,” said Fudge, “We honor Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Son of beloved members of our community, he is the only person to have ever survived the killing curse. As a boy with no knowledge of his significance to us, he re-entered the wizarding world and proved himself capable of standing in his own right and stepping forward to fulfill the prophecy set upon him so long ago. He struck the blows that weakened and then killed Voldemort, and has rid our community from him forever. At the same time, he has set an example for all that tenacity, courage, and friendship go a long way in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. We honor him today with the Order of Merlin, first class.”


Harry stepped forward to receive it, feeling more conspicuous than ever. He tried to catch the eye of both Hermione and Ron who, in his opinion, ought to be up there with him receiving it together, and somehow convey that thought to them wordlessly. People leapt to their feet and applauded as the medal was hung around his neck, and the house elves wrung their hankies and bobbed and curtsied as he passed them. “Er... thank you. Thank you all,” he stammered. “This is not just mine - it belongs to my friends who have been with me the whole way.” It was hard to hear him over the racket, but those who needed to hear it were glad that he had said it.


With that, the service was over, and everyone began to file out, some stopping in clusters to talk or embrace.


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Later that day, Alison Waters - following directions she had coaxed from Dumbledore - somewhat nervously made her way through the enchanted castle down to Severus’ quarters in the dungeons. She wanted a fenutenutes alone with him, and was relieved to find him relatively easily. He watched her uneasy movements and waited for he spe speak, but instead she handed him a large book. “I want you to have this, my dear,” she said. “I was going to give it to you both for your wedding, but I think it may be better for you to have now.”


Stung by the seeming hopelessness of her words, Severus barely glanced at it before handing it back to her. “Keep it until then,” he said gruffly. “That day has not come yet.”


“Take it, Severus,” said Alison gently. “I have a different gift in mind for your wedding now - I’m not giving up on her or your wedding,” she added with tears pricking her eyes, “I just think that this will be something you might want to have in the meantime.”


He took the album from her hand and looked at it guardedly. It was thick, heavy, and bound in smooth dark brown leather. Gilt embossing on the cover said ‘Megan’ in curly script. Swallowing hard, he opened the book to the middle and found the pages filled with magical pictures of her. In some of them she was smiling and waving, and in others, she was looking away from the camera, candidly absorbed in thought or activity. Staring at the face he had missed so terribly, he traced over her cheekbone with his fingertip as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How...?” he whispered, not looking up.


“Albus gave us a camera that could take this kind of picture when Megan came to live with us,” Alison answered, sitting down at his side and looking at the photos with him. “Here,” she said, turning to the end of the book, “I want you to see these...”


Severus was amazed by what she showed him - the last few pages were filled with pictures of he and Megan. They had clearly been taken when they met her parents in London for their first outing together and in Connecticut for the Christmas holiday, but he had not noticed being photographed at the time. He watched himself take her face in his hands and lean toward her to kiss her on the mouth, and a fresh ache tore through him. He quietly closed the album and looked at it for a moment before turning back to Alison. “Thank you,” he said, in barely a whisper. “I will look at the rest alone, but...” he paused, and the grief was palpable to her as he looked at her, “I am grateful. I could not think of a kinder gesture.”


She embraced him and they left to find John. A coach waited at the end of the drive to carry them to the landing for the Hogwarts Express which would take them to London. They were staying there for the next several days before returning to the States, and had reluctantly agreed with Dumbledore’s advice to not stay indefinitely waiting for Megan to recover.


As the coach drawn by the ghostly winged creatures rolled out of sight, Severus returned to his quarters and pored over the rest of the pictures in the album. Since she had fallen, one of the things that plagued him the most was experiencing the moments when he, try as he might, had difficulty remembering exactly what she looked like. While he knew that it was not an unusual thing to happen upon losing someone, it was disconcerting nonetheless. The photos relieved him in that sense, reassuring his weary mind that his memories of her were accurate and would remain in place. At the same time, seeing her in the pictures - especially the ones of them together - refreshed the palpable emptiness. As he looked, it occurro hio him that he would have given anything to be able to be next to her, even if it was only for an hour...


...which placed an idea in his mind.


Shortly thereafter, he glided silently through the corridors to his laboratory. His jaw was set in determination as he looked over his shoulder and unwarded his office which had been closed since before the battle. He impatiently pulled the side cabinet open to find what he had come for. Taking the object into his hand and carefully concealing it in his robe, he hurried back to his quarters. His heart raced and he felt in part as though he might be about to try something utterly devious, but a combination of grief and longing won out and he continued. He could not decide whether it would be a desperate act of a rational man or a step toward madness, but ultimately concluded that he didn’t really care either way.


He closed the door to his quarters behind himself and warded it, then warded his fireplace against receiving anyone via the floo network. His face expressionless, he took the pensieve out of his robe and placed it on the table. He put his wand against his temple and carefully pulled a silvery strand out, dropping it smoothly into the swirling silver liquid. That done, he gave a brief flick of his wand and was undressed in an instant. He picked up the pensieve, placed it on the end of his bed, lay down next to it, and looked in...


He felt himself falling through nothingness...


...and then landed on his bed next to Megan, who was lying on her stomach and reading a book. He moved closer to her and stared ardently, but she didn’t notice him there. A moment later he watched himself enter the room, a dusting of snow covering his heavy winter cape and traces of snow remaining on his boots despite having kicked most of it off at the castle entrance. Megan looked up with a quick smile and finger-wave of greeting before returning to her book.


As his eyes traveled over her, he saw that she was dressed in the gauzy pink nightgown she’d worn on the first night they made love, which had since been a favorite of his for her to wear. Just seeing it stirred his memory - and other things - and he idly wondered whether she was really not aware of its effect on him or if she was simply being coy. Without a word and without taking off his over-garments, he turned an armchair around so it faced the bed and sat down. With a wave of his hand, the lights went out and the only illumination came from the fireplace behind him. His face was now hidden in shadows and he leaned back in his chair and looked at her.


“Um... what’re you doing?” she asked, holding her place in the book with a finger, since it was now too dark to read. “I was just getting to the good part!”


She could not see his slow smile. “Give me five minutes of your time, and if you still want to read your book I will let you do so without complaint.”


“Tsk. Severus - you are so weird sometimes. Don’t tell me this is the pink nightgown thing again...”


“Sit up,” whispered the actual Severus, next to her on the bed.


“Sit up,” echoed his memory-self from the chair.


“Why?”


“I want to look at you... I want to watch you.”


She smirked, finally humoring him, and put her book on the night table. Slowly, she sat up on her knees, facing him in his chair. She could see little more than a silhouette of him, and hanks of hair had fallen forward onto his face, further obscuring it from her view. She waited as he looked at her, letting his quiet presence settle around her. “Aren’t you going to come over here?” she finally asked.


“No. I’m going to watch you from here, and you are going to do what I say,” he said quietly.


She shivered at his words even though the room was perfectly warm. She had told him later that evening that she never ceased to be amazed at the ways he could draw her into his sensuality and at the level of sensuality he managed to draw out in her that she had never realized was there. He hadn’t done a thing to her except speak, but her heart had already sped up slightly and Severus, lying next to her, watched her nipples harden through the sheer fabric.


Next to her on the bed, Severus watched Megan as his memory-self guided her. She teasingly removed her nightgown, inching it slowly up over her skin. As the commands became more sensual, Severus felt himself responding to her. His erection grew and he took it in his hand as Megan, still kneeling with her legs parted, was now nude and caressing her own skin. At his memory’s instruction, she held her breasts and played with them, running her fingertips over her already-hard nipples. Severus stroked himself, the tip of his hardness touching her leg.


The voice of his memory-self became like a hand caressing her along with her own hands. She gasped as he spoke now, his voice as calm and quiet, but with an undertone of growing intensity. He guided her hands all over her body, making her touch herself in all of the places that she was now pleading with him to touch.


He had her kneel facing away from him, with her chest against the bed and her hand busy between her legs. She spread her legs further apart and rubbed in circles on her clit. She spread herself open for him to see when he asked her to, and as the real Severus rubbed faster on his straining hardness, he heard his memory-self’s voice catch almost imperceptibly as Megan slid her fingers into herself and moved them in and out. Her wetness was now audible as she fingered herself, and from the chair, his memory-self told her to lie down on her back. She did, putting her feet flat on the bed and opening herself up before him. With one hand, she resumed fingering herself, curving them to catch the sweet spot inside, and with her other hand, she rubbed circles on her clit.


Although she had been keeping her orgasm on the edge, trying to build it up as much as possible before allowing it to happen, at his urging Megan squeezed her eyes shut and cried out sharply, her head pushed back against the pillows, her belly convulsing with spasms, and her hips pushing up against her hand. Next to her, the actual Severus reached his own climax and came in sticky spurts into his hand. By now, his memory-self was approaching the bed, having already removed his clothing - he crawled up the bed toward Megan and, sensing him, she reached her arms out toward him pulling him to her in a kiss.


Severus felt the memory ending and was wrenched back out of it with a nauseating lurch. Feeling suddenly and overwhelmingly miserable upon finding himself alone in his bed with her side of it cold, he set the pensieve aside on the night table. It had been a diversion, but it had not done what he had hoped, which was to ease the pain of separation. With the fresh reminder of her in his mind, his loneliness redoubled. Shivering, he pulled the heavy covers over himself and stared at the ceiling with wide eyes which, to his surprise, filled with tears. Although it had been so long at this point that he had no memory of the last time he had wept, he began to do so now. He buried his face in a pillow as his sobs shook him, wrenching their way out of his need. He eventually drifted into a restless sleep, his face wet and streaked and his throat aching.

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A/N - Thanks to all of you who are reading & who are reviewing. This took longer to get out than I had originally planned, and this was not as edited as I would have liked it to be. But it was this or nothing else for a few more weeks, so hopefully the basic sentiment and ideas can come through anyway. Between house guests (gotta love living in a tourist town) and finals, I\'m not going to have time over the next couple of weeks for this, but I promise to keep up with it as I can. Pray that summer comes quickly - not for the story, for me! :-)

I so appreciate all of you, and thank you for followalonalong with me. Please drop a line and let me know what you think.

Estrilda - Hi! Thanks so much for your comments - I\'m so glad you like Viktor! :-) Personally, I imagine him to be a sort of younger Snapelike character but who has had a different life and turned out with a different personality. Yes, there will definitely be more VK/HG.

Debbie - Hey there - I know, it will be a bit weird to bring someone back from something like that. They\'ve determined that she\'s not really dead though, so hopefully I\'ll be able to pull it off if she gets better. I\'ll be interested in hearing what you think when the time comes. Glad you liked the lemons! It seemed like the right time for some with them.

Maggie - You are so sweet - thanks for your funny little notes about this, even in your own story! I\'m so glad that you liked the Severus stuff - I love writing him more than all of the others. Thank you for all of your support. :-)

Mary Beth - Thanks! Glad you liked the lemons. ;-) Yes, I think that their passion was inspired by her needing to feemethmething else besides the sadness - you picked that up well.

Droxy - This one was for you, sweetie! Hope that it fit with what you hoped for overall. Thanks for checking in so faithfully - I always appreciate what you have to say. I know, I hate what our Potions Master is going through, and promise that there will be more about it.

Samantha - Thanks, and welcome to the story! I really appreciate your comments a lot, and hope that you continue to enjoy the story. I\'m glad you like the OC. I\'m drawn to the sort of Electra-Lara Croft- Yuna sort of character and it tends to show up in this OC.

Darsina - Hey there - as always, thank you for your wonderful insights. Yes, there is going to really be some stuff for the Weasleys to deal with I think, and thank you also for your kind words about my own experience. I have been to far too many funerals lately, and part of this section was inspired by my own feeling of a piece of my soul leaving when I say goodbye. They remain in me, but a piece of me goes, if that makes any sense. Also, about Snape\'s reaction to Harry\'s danger - I know, that wasn\'t very gallant of him. I think that Dumbledore saw through his reaction though and waited patiently for him to come around rather than taking it seriously - you were right on target with your interpretation of that one. If you are reading this, I appreciate your selecting this as a study break. (Long-distance high five.) I am feeling terribly guilty and will retreat into my own studies for a few more weeks now, but summer break is on the horizon. :-)