It Takes a Miracle

Chapter 4 – Who will take your dreams away, takes your soul another day

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Breakfast on Monday was the only meal that Dumbledore required everyone on staff to attend during the summer holidays. Snape was never a big fan of communal eating, but today he loathed the sheer thought of the obligatory affair. He was extremely irritated, and felt like throwing a couple of good hexes, or at least taking a serious number of House points. However, there was nobody to hex or take points from in the dungeons in July. That was why, sweeping through the dark hallways, he had to content himself with sending a couple of snide remarks to the inhabitants of the paintings he passed by. It did not improve his mood, and frankly he guessed that nothing would.

Last night, after the little unhappy incident, Snape knew that he had a problem. A problem that he could not leave unresolved for another minute. Actually, he was rather angry that he had let it fester for that long instead of nipping it in the bud when the whole madness had started - the moment he came to with the witch lying across his chest. Damn witch.

“Now, now, Severus, you’ve seen where your emotions can take you, try some reasoning instead.” A little voice on the back of his head oozed with sarcasm.

A cold shower seemed to be in order. Stepping into the rain of icy water and letting it run along his shivering body, Snape took a deep breath and began.

First of all, he established the fact that he fully intended to keep private this, how should he call it, temporary insanity. He did not fancy becoming the laughing stock of the next few generations of teachers and students at Hogwarts. He could just imagine the whispers behind his back, “There he goes. That ugly old git. The one who was stalking a beautiful young witch. Imaging the nerve? And she was engaged! He is despicable!” Alright, alright, no need to be vicious here, the point was taken.

Secondly, he tried to figure out why he was loosing control. He knew that he had been starved for human contact, but he was used to the feeling, and a little touch was no excuse for these escapades. What was it about this girl that threw him off balance? He had faced temptations before, had he not? After all he started teaching in his early twenties, when his seventh years were pretty much his contemporaries. And later there were witches from time to time he would find attractive. But knowing he had no hope of having a normal relationship with a woman, he would not let even his imagination run loose. He was always in control. Besides, after all the atrocities he witnessed or participated in while at the Dark Lord’s side his fantasies had a vicious habit of turning into horrifying recollections of the actual events -- rapes, tortures, murders.

Wait a second, that was it. He did not stop himself precisely because he assumed that this little fantasy of his would be crashed by the memory of one of his crimes. But it did not happen. It seemed that for a day he had lost his ghastly memories. That was why he could safely imagine this witch being with him when he was pacing in dungeon’s hallways. That was why he could happily picture them together walking through his mother’s garden, or facing a gathering storm near his family estate. That was why he could accept her plea to touch him... As if he was living in a normal world. As if he was living a normal life. As if he had a future...

Snape shook his head. It has nothing to do with a girl. He was simply getting desperate…

“But never was there a witch who was willingly that close to you, none was willingly in your arms,” interjected a little voice in his head.

“She was unconscious!” Snape screamed almost out loud.

“But never there was a witch who smiled at you like that,” whispered the damn little voice again.

“She was in pain, she could not be responsible for her actions.” Snape hated this little voice and the rubbish it uttered.

“And never was there a witch who smelled so good, vanilla and peach...”

Snape leaned on the shower wall. Fuck...

In about half an hour, Snape finally allowed himself to leave the shower. By that time, he felt more like a human icicle than a human being. His limbs were so stiff that he stumbled over his own foot trying to reach a towel. At least, he had accomplished his goal. No, he had not managed to figure out why he was losing control. After a heated deliberation with the little voice in his head, Snape shut it up concluding that everything, which had transpired in the last day, was only an unfortunate effect of his run-in with an atypical set of circumstances, his overwhelming exhaustion that clouded his mind, and his utter lack of experience with women.

From that point on it was an easy road. He glumly reminded himself (and that damn bloody little voice) that being a spy and a faux Death Eater, he was a marked man; that his expected life-span was negligible, and the continuity of his survival largely depended on his complete and unwavering control over his own mind; and, consequently, he should avoid at all cost any confusing situations, i.e. human contacts, that incorporated anything that could not be calculated, i.e. emotions. The conclusion was obvious and stunning in its simplicity -- all Snape had to do was to forget about the damn witch and to stay the bloody hell away from her.

“And that is what you will do, Severus.” Snape nodded to himself.

“My, you spent all this time in the cold shower for this?” asked the little voice innocently.

“Fuck off!” spat Snape. Frozen and worn out, he took a dose of the Dreamless Sleep Potion and slammed onto the bed without bothering to take the covers off.

He woke up at the crack of dawn. He had a throbbing headache and exceptionally vile mood. By the time he left his rooms to go to the Monday must-be-there bloody breakfast, the headache potion took care of the first problem. However, his irritation seemed to grow with every word he hissed to the wizards and witches in the dungeon’s paintings. When Snape reached the dining room, he had to take a very deep breath and carefully school his face into an expressionless mask.

“Severus, good morning,” he was greeted with Dumbledore’s warm smile from behind the Daily Prophet. “We began to think that you were hiding from us.”

Snape managed a more or less respectful nod to the Headmaster. Then, reluctantly, he jerked his head in the general direction of Messer. Apparition Instructor and Magical Objects Junior Professor (a.k.a. a Rag Clown and an Almost-Silent Sidekick), and Mr. Tresini and his boss Mr. Boomshack (two swindlers, who made the Ministry believe that they were fixing some structural damage of the Hogwarts’ castle).

The three young people at the table were quietly discussing something when Snape walked in. The conversation most probably had to do with the Potions Master, since they stopped talking when they saw him. Mr. Boomshack, a fat middle-aged man with an apologetic smile permanently plastered on his round saggy face, was fully engrossed in consuming a huge three-deck sandwich and was not paying attention to anything else.

Snape sat next to the Headmaster, who returned to his paper. The Potions Master took a cup of coffee, longingly thinking about his rooms in the dungeons, and muttered under his breath, “No, I was not hiding, just trying to keep decent company.”

“Severus, sometimes it’s a good thing to get out for a little while.”

Snape could feel the glare sent his way by Mr. Tresini. He scowled at him and saw Mr. Rag Clown whispering hotly into the young builder’s ear. Snape sneered and took a sip of coffee.

“How come Minerva is spared from the joyous duty of coming here?” he asked Dumbledore, noticing the absence of Professor McGonagall.

“She and Madam Pince had breakfast earlier, and went to Hogsmeade.” The Headmaster sounded cheerful, too cheerful for Snape’s liking. “Madam Pince is taking the train to her vacation home, and Minerva wanted to see her off. And, most probably, do some shopping.”

“The library?”

“It is all yours. Enjoy. And do try to keep it in order. I promised Madam Pince that I personally will put wards to keep you away from her domain.”

Snape snorted into his cup of coffee, and Dumbledore chuckled before continuing, “By the way, there was another woman that mentioned you today.” Snape raised an eyebrow. “Madam Pomfrey is going through her inventory of potions, and found a couple she wanted you to take a look at and see if they have gone bad. Would you please stop by the hospital wing? It is not urgent, so go whenever you have some spare time.”

Snape nodded, forcefully blocking the association: the hospital wing – the damn witch. She was not here, so she was probably still there. But the next moment it was more than an association.

“Professor Snape.” He turned to see Mr. Tresini calling him. He looked at the young wizard coldly and said, “Yes?”

“Would you mind telling me what happened Saturday night?” Mr. Tresini was polite, but the intense dislike towards Snape was evident in his voice, and he sounded demanding. The young wizard put his fork down, and was looking at him expectantly. Everyone else at the table also looked at Snape. Even Mr. Boomshack put down what was left of his sandwich.

The Potions Master’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head slightly, as if considering whether the young builder deserved an answer. He took his time before replying silkily, “What exactly do you want to know?”

“Well, the details. Where did you see Gerry? What did she do? What did she say? What...”

“I am sure that the Headmaster has apprised you of everything that transpired that night,” Snape interrupted him coolly and took a piece of toast. Very carefully he picked up some butter and started smearing it on the toast, letting Mr. Tresini and everybody else know that the conversation was over.

“He did, but I wanted to hear it from you.” The young builder was not giving up. Although he did not sound as demanding as before, he was determined to get his questions answered. “You have to understand, Professor, she is my fiancée, and she is still in the infirmary. It is important for me to know everything.”

“Of course.” Snape put down the piece of toast, and curled his lip. “Where do I start? Ah-ha. A young lady was wandering around an unfamiliar castle all by herself in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, her concerned fiancé was... Pardon me, but where were you, Mr. Tresini?” A nasty sneer flashed on Snape’s thin face, quickly to be replaced by an expression of barely hidden contempt.

A disapproving murmur flew around the table. The young builder’s handsome face turned an unhealthy shade of burgundy, while he was glaring at Snape, who returned his attention to the piece of toast. Still the young builder decided to try again, “It was an accident that Gerry... It does not matter... You don’t know... Look, whatever you think of me should not be reflected on Gerry. She is... She is...” Mr. Tresini was struggling with his words, not sure what he wanted to say or how. “She is very special... I want to make sure that I do everything in my power to...”

“Fascinating,” interrupted Snape indifferently. “But I fail to see how my telling you what happened, as opposed to the Headmaster telling you what happened, will make a slightest difference in Ms. Ardant’s recovery prospects.”

Mr. Tresini leaped to his feet, clenching and unclenching his sizable fists. Another wave of disapproving murmur swept over the table. Dumbledore turned to Snape and said calmly, “Severus, why don’t you tell Valerius what you remember? He is right. I could’ve missed something important.”

Snape threw a critical glance at the Headmaster, but grudgingly complied. He conveyed a story that he and Dumbledore invented for general consumption to keep secret Ms. Ardant’s newly discovered abilities, and Snape’s condition upon return to the castle.

Later, when Dumbledore and Snape were the only ones left in the dining room, the Headmaster said, “I reckon you are too harsh with Mr. Tresini.”

“He is an idiot,” came Snape’s short reply.

“He is worried about a person that is very dear to him.”

“He is a worried idiot,” retorted Snape, and continued angrily, “besides if she is so special why did he let her wander alone? If he is so worried, why did he not look for me yesterday?”

“Severus, really,” the old wizard shook his head, “you do not expect people to think and act logically all the time, do you? And, look, I realize that you have a reputation to uphold, but I think with this boy you went too far.”

“Did I?” sneered Snape. “I shudder to think what happens when Ms. Ardant blabbers anything to him that contradicts our convenient story.”

“Well, that is why I asked Poppy to be on a constant watch,” Dumbledore sighed heavily, “but yes, there is always a risk.”

“Why are these two swindlers here? Nothing would have happened if we did not have this bother. Nothing,” he stressed the last word, and pulled at the page of “The Times” in front of him to turn it so hard, that he practically tore it.

Dumbledore was looking very attentively at his fuming Potions Master, as if considering if the situation warranted a reaction like that.

“Severus, you know, they are here on Ministry orders.” The old wizard sighed. Obviously, he was not happy to have strangers wandering freely around Hogwarts’ castle, either. But at least it meant that the Ministry of Magic had finally accepted the fact that Voldemort was back and people needed protection. “You know, my boy, that our dear old Fudge is trying to cover his ass and show people that he does do something to ward off Voldemort. Keeping our children safe within the walls of the school! Cornelius, Cornelius, when are you going to learn?” Dumbledore shook his head and added, “At least I am not called an old senile oaf anymore.”

Snape arched an eyebrow, and the Headmaster amended, “Not in the major newspaper anyway.”

The rest of his Monday passed quietly. Snape, true to his word to himself, did not think about the witch on the hospital bed, and he did not go anywhere near the infirmary. He busied himself with his research, and took some Dreamless Sleep Potion that night.

After he woke up the next morning feeling rested, his mood leveled, Snape decided that today he was ready to tackle the problem for Madam Pomfrey. He gave himself the morning, just in case, and went to the hospital wing after lunch.

It did not take him long to help Poppy with the potions. However, when Snape was about to leave, the flames in the fireplace burst.

“Poppy,” Dumbledore’s head appeared in the fire, “could you, please, go to the Northern Tower. It seems that Mr. Boomshack had a little bit of a mishap, and Mr. Tresini is not sure if he should move him.”

“Of course, Albus, I’ll go right away. Do you know what happen to him?”

“I reckon it was a lifting accident.” Dumbledore looked at Snape. “Severus, could you keep an eye on Poppy’s patient, while she is gone?”

Snape was definitely not thrilled with the idea, but nodded curtly.

“Thank you.” The Headmaster’s head bobbled in a direction somewhere between Madam Pomfrey and Snape and disappeared.

“Men,” Madam Pomfrey was muttering under her breath, while choosing several potions to take with her, from a long array of vials. “Brave and strong ‘til they feel the first flicker of pain, and then they fall apart.” She looked at Snape, and added with sadness, “Well, not you, my dear, never you.”

Before Snape had a chance to snap, she was gone. For a couple of minutes, he sat in her office, contemplating if he should go and actually “keep an eye” on Ms. Ardant. A noise coming from the infirmary decided for him. He went to investigate, and was just in time to catch the young witch from smashing face down on the floor.


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“You should not have gotten out of bed,” murmured a deep velvety voice somewhere nearby.
Gerry realized that the voice was connected to the hands that had stopped her from falling flat on her face. These same hands were now trying to get her back on the bed, which she left so recklessly moments ago. After a brief consideration, she allowed herself to be arranged into a sitting position. Not that she was able to put up any fight. Her little exercise left her feeling completely worn out, nauseous and lightheaded. She had to close her eyes because the almost instantaneous change in the position of her head – first, down falling, then, up – squashed everything around into one big blur. Fortunately, the hands that were helping her, gentle and strong, seemed to know what to do, and in no time, Gerry was sitting in the bed, propped against the pillows, the lower part of her covered by a blanket. She thought that it might be safe to finally open her eyes. She did and saw a big black spot right in front of her, and a lot of white at the edges.

“Are you alright? Is it comfortable for you?” asked the voice. It sounded very formal but rather...sexy? While Gerry was considering if she should be thinking about the voice as sexy, the said voice persisted, “Miss, do you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you... I think... I am okay...” She was stumbling over every word, her facial muscles not up to full functioning, and the tongue limp in her mouth. She tried again slowly, “Thank you for...catching me... I am so clumsy... But I am fine...”

The effort of delivering the whole speech took too much of her strength, and she could not resist the urge to close her eyes again. She leaned her head back on the pillow. “I am just so tired...”

“That is surprising. Considering that you’ve slept for three days, I’d expect you to feel weak, not tired,” contemplated the voice, and Gerry heard a rustling sound. “Here, drink this.”

One of the hands snaked to the back of her head, and kept it tilted back a little, while the other was probably the hand that was pressing something against her mouth. A vial. A vial with an exceptionally smelly potion. Gerry hesitated for a moment, and then took a sip.

With the first drops of the potion in her throat, Gerry felt as if she was coming alive again. Enriched with the potion, the blood rushed to jump-start every molecule inside her. Instantaneously, the energy began filling up her listless body, and strengthening the weakened muscles. She took another sip, and in a moment she felt like her old self again. “Somebody knows how to brew a good Liven-up Potion,” she thought with a relief. However, this relief did not last, because Gerry suddenly realized what the voice said. She was petrified.

“Oh, Merlin, I slept for three days? I have to go, I need to find someone. Oh, shit!” Her eyes snapped open, but she did not see anything, too concentrated on getting on her feet and away from there. She swung her legs down to one side of the bed, but before she managed to stand up, the now-familiar hands gently, but firmly, pulled her back down. Gerry was furious -- how presumptuous one could get – and lashed out, “You don’t...”

She jerked to get away from the hands and threw a glare at the owner.

“You...” all she managed to utter. Her gaze was instantaneously drawn into the two black burning pools of the wizard’s eyes. It was he. Thanks Merlin.

“Me,” he agreed. For a moment he waited for her to continue, but all Gerry could do was to keep gaping. He started silkily, “I take it that you are feeling better. If you recognize me, could I assume that you remember what happened on Saturday night?”

“You mean, when I first saw you?” she murmured hesitantly.

“Yes. Do you remember what you did?” he interrupted slightly impatiently.

“Well, I enervated you, then we tried to get you standing.” She spoke slowly, still unable to take her eyes off of his. It was hard to breathe, hard to speak, hard to think. It was a little like drowning. Like a drowning in icy-cold water. After all the time they spent together, after everything she went through searching for him, here he was, sitting at a proper distance from her and talking calmly to her. Like there was nothing between them. Like they were perfect strangers. And his beautiful eyes were icy-cold.

Gerry frantically searched her memories for a good explanation to his behavior. Did they fight? Did she offend him? Did they break up?

“And then...” the wizard was pushing her along.

“And then you lost your consciousness, and then...” As confused as she was, Gerry knew she could not confess to what happened next: how she almost broke down and let him die there. It was too appalling. So she jumped straight to the following event, “I performed a Vita Redux, and then...”

“...you passed out,” he finished her sentence.

“And then I...,” she started, but apparently he got out of her what he wished to find out, and waved his hand dismissively.

“You came to for a moment and fell asleep right away afterwards.” The wizard quickly completed her sentence again and continued, “Good, you do remember. Now...”

“Wait.” Gerry was not sure that she heard that right. “I slept since then?”

He nodded curtly, and her mind suddenly went numb. She slept. Was it possible? Was it possible that she dreamt everything that happened after she performed the Vita Redux? Was it possible that she was never actually with this wizard? And nothing happened between them? Could that be so? Oh, Merlin! He wouldn’t lie to her like that, would he? She bit her lip and let out a breath she was holding. Everything was just a dream...

Now his coldness and formality made perfect sense – they were just strangers. Suddenly, she felt so exposed, so vulnerable, that she could not look the wizard in the eye any longer. Did she say anything inappropriate to him? Did she do anything stupid, while thinking that he was her long lost...what?...lover?...friend?

“Miss, could we continue?” the wizard inquired quietly.

No, it was doubtful that he perceived any inappropriateness in her conduct. Even if he did, he was not showing it. With that, Gerry relaxed a bit and allowed herself to take a look around. She was in the infirmary. It appeared to be exactly like the one she saw in her dream -- a long bright room lined with made-up, identical beds. That was a little weird, because she was never here before. Except for in that dream of hers. On the other hand, all infirmaries probably looked alike, didn’t they?

“Miss?”

She nodded distractedly and looked around again. She had no reason to doubt that the wizard was telling the truth, that she indeed slept for three days. And yet, Gerry could not help but think how real her dream appeared to be. So much so, that when she woke up, she could not tell reality from the dream.

Gerry glanced at herself. She was wearing a hospital gown. “How did I get here?”

“I brought you here, when you were unconscious, and the school’s mediwitch has been looking after you since then,” he explained snappily and continued with barely hidden urgency, “Now, Ms. Ardant, I need you to listen to me. There is something very important you need to know.”

While the wizard talked, Gerry took a closer look at him. His raven-black strands of shoulder-length hair were partially covering his thin pale face, a curled lip and an unreadable expression just like the one he often wore when she was with him. “It was a dream,” Gerry sternly reminded herself. Her gaze moved to the wizard’s clothes. His black robes were open, and under the robes there was a jacket – a black tightly fitted garment with high collar, fully covering the wizard’s neck, and long sleeves with buttoned cuffs that ended well below the wrists – which, she realized, was identical to the one he was wearing the last time she saw him. When she was on her knees, and he was sitting in the chair in front of her... “It was only a fucking dream!” she repeated desperately. Oh, Merlin. And his black pants with little black buttons... Same buttons... Oh, Merlin...

“Ms. Ardant, would you please look me in the eye when I am talking to you. It is imperative that you understand what I am about to say.” He was almost whispering now, but his deep voice carried so much power and conviction that Gerry had to adhere to his request, still flushing slightly after her musings, “I am listening.”

“Ms. Ardant, first of all I need to ask you to...refrain from telling anybody what really happened on Saturday night. It is for your own safety, as well as mine. And do not, under any circumstances, I repeat, do not mention Vita Redux to anybody. Anybody!” The wizard stopped for a moment looking at Gerry warily. It seemed that he was considering if she accepted the gravity of the situation. He continued forcefully, like he was assigning a project to a hopelessly inadequate subordinate, “When asked, just say that you went out of the building, because you felt...tired, or nauseas, or sick... Take your pick. You saw me coming to the castle. We exchanged greetings. You felt lightheaded. You do not remember anything after that. You woke up here,” he glanced at the clock, “at around three in the afternoon. Avoid details, and stress the fact that you did not feel well.”

The wizard stopped again, giving Gerry a chance to absorb the information. He was looking at her coldly, his black eyes boring into hers, his lips pursed into a thin line. The same lips, which felt so soft on hers when he brought her to a small cave away from the storm... Gods…

“Stop it, you idiot!” Gerry gave herself a mental shake. He was telling her something important, wasn’t he? Regardless of what she believed, or did not believe to be real, the wizard was trying to warn her about the Vita Redux. And, actually, she remembered how her Nana always told her to keep their lessons a secret.

“I understand,” said Gerry quietly. “We met, I passed out... Nothing else.”

The wizard nodded, and in one smooth move got up, folded his arms over his chest, and swept to the entrance door. He peered out and came back to Gerry’s bed leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Professor Dumbledore will speak to you in further detail about this situation.” He was standing right in front of her, looking down at her over his large hooked nose. Gerry had to lean her head way back to see his face, so tall he was. “He will also arrange for you to meet somebody who will be able to assist you with the...Vita business.”

She nodded slowly. Business. The word, numbing and detached, twirled in Gerry’s mind. It was all business. Still, a heave weight settled in her stomach, as if she had lost something very dear to her. Only…Only she couldn’t loose what she never had. He did not know her. She did not know him. It was just a dream. She bit her lip and, feeling light prickling in her eyes, quickly looked down.

“What is it, Ms. Ardant?”

“I am sorry, it’s just...” She was not brave enough to look at him. “It’s nothing. Thank you for helping me.”

Her vision suddenly fogged, and Gerry thought that she was falling again.

“Ms. Ardant?” She heard him as if from afar.

“I am fine. It is my head, it will not stop spinning,” she could barely whisper, wondering if she was about to pass out.

She sensed rather than saw the wizard quickly sitting next to her, and fishing another vial out of his robes.

“Three days with no food,” he murmured, opening the stopper and bringing the vial to Gerry’s lips. “I should have thought of it. Liven-up Potion has used all the fuel...”

Again his left hand was at the back of Gerry’s head, keeping it tilted back, and his right hand was tipping the vial against her slightly open mouth. And again, as the last time, the potion seemed to improve Gerry’s condition in an instant, but now she was not running anywhere. Instead she was looking straight into the wizard’s black mesmerizing eyes, not fully aware if she was still breathing or not. He was so close, leaning forward to give her the potion. So close that for a split of a second Gerry thought that she saw a flicker of longing in his eyes, and sensed the slight shiver of his fingers on the back of her head. But before she had a chance to comprehend, the wizard was already concentrating on closing the stopper on the vial, and the place where his left hand was a second ago felt abandoned.

“Thank you again. Amazing, I never knew that elderberry could improve the taste without altering the qualities of Profuturus Solution,” she said a bit too cheerfully, trying to catch his eye. He raised an eyebrow without looking at her and said, “You should eat something in about an hour or so.”

She nodded and, without giving it much thought, started hurriedly, “I am sorry that I am so much trouble. Usually, I am able to take care of myself pretty well.” Gerry smiled weakly, but his gaze was locked on his own hands, resting on his knees. She pressed on, “Look, I have to tell you that... Oh, it is so confusing.” She hesitated. “See, when I slept, I had this dream...that seemed very real. And then I woke up and you told me that...it was only a dream. But it was...it was weird... It was about a person who I don’t really know.”

Before she could stop herself, Gerry reached out and lightly touched his arm, “This person was you.”

The wizard visibly wrenched away from her touch. He glared at her and waved his hand to dismiss her confessions, which he obviously did not think much about. “I was the last person you saw before you fell asleep, that is why your subconscious probably used me for...whatever it used me for... Ms. Ardant, would you please make sure that you remember what I told you?” A cold gaze replaced his glare. He practically sneered, “And...thank you for saving my life.”

“Any time.” She could almost kick herself for being so foolish. It was just a dream.

“If we are done...” Gerry nodded slightly, and the wizard waved his wand, taking off what she recognized as a silencing charm around them. He had long graceful fingers, which held the wand as if caressing it...

They both turned their heads towards the entrance when they heard the sound of voices arguing in the hallway. The wizard hastily got up, and couple of moments later, the door of the infirmary burst open to let in a whole procession of people.

The first to enter was Madam Pomfrey, closely followed by a slightly limping Mr. Boomshack and a rather worried looking Mr. Tresini. Behind them was Professor Dumbledore. All four of them stopped in their tracks at the sight of Gerry sitting in her bed.

“You are awake!”

“Oh, Gerry!”

“Thanks Merlin, girl!”

“Ms. Ardant, you’re awake!”

They all cried simultaneously. Right away they were at her side, smiling and cheering, and Valerius was sitting next to her on the bed. Without a pause, he scooped her into a gentle embrace.

“Val, oh, baby,” moaned Gerry softly in her fiancé’s strong arms. She felt that only now she finally woke up. Here he was, the love of her life, her Val, and she spent so much time panting for somebody who she did not even know. How stupid she could get!

“I am sorry, baby, it was all my fault,” Valerius was whispering against her cheek, between the kisses that he was covering her face with. “Do whatever you want to do, whatever makes you happy. I’ll never say a word.”

For the next couple of minutes, Gerry’s face was burred in Valerius’ robes. She looked up only once to see a spot of black moving behind the multicolored robes of two wizards and a witch who were standing around her bed. In a blink of an eye it was gone, and Gerry had to scold herself for getting desperately saddened.

“Poor baby, you had to deal with him again, I am so sorry.” Valerius noticed how she stiffened slightly in his arms.

“Who?”

“Snape. You know, Professor Snape.”

“Oh,” she moaned and heard an entrance door slammed shut.
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A/N A huge thanks to my beta Odddoll