Escape ↣ Harmione

Chapter Thirteen

The morning of the deadline, Minerva was on tenterhooks, and Severus was snappy. They didn't know when the missing students would return, would it be today? Or would it be tomorrow after the deadline passed? They had hashed it one way then the other, talked it to death only to start again.

The Dark Lord had been interested to know that Potter had yet to be found, but seemed unwilling to make a move. Albus was working himself up to a temper about their continued absence, and given that his cursed hand was weakening his body, this wasn't good for him. Severus suspected that the Dark Lord wanted to see if Potter being missing, would, in fact, kill the old man. Whatever the effect, Potter was certainly the golden boy no longer. It was no longer gallant that he had run off to save Miss Granger from the clutches of the Dark Lord. It was irresponsible, foolhardy and selfish.

Severus watched impassively as the Headmaster muttered and paced. Plotting for the day that Potter stepped over the castle threshold and back under control once again.

When breakfast came and went, with no sign of them, unease flickered in his mind. When lunch and dinner passed the same way, unease stopped flickering and started stirring in his stomach. He stayed in his dungeon as far away from the Headmaster as he could, praying that tomorrow would bring the miscreants back to the castle. Minerva came to his rooms in the evening. Such was her worry she stayed as a cat, kneading his lap, demanding he stroke over her ears and down her back. They sat there whiling the hours away staring at the fire, refusing to think that they might not return.

Breakfast brought more than unease; outright concern was now rolling through the pair as they sat at the table. An owl delivered a letter to Minerva which she accepted with unseeing eyes, as distracted she as was. It flew down the Gryffindor table, and Severus' eyes lazily followed its flight. It cuffed Weasley with a wing before soaring upwards and out the window.

Weasley, startled from his breakfast by the impact of the wing, squinted at the retreating owl then loudly proclaimed. "That was Hedwig!"

Severus jolted to attention, Minerva doing the same next to him, and she glanced down at the rolled parchment she had laid by her plate.

The cursive script was unmistakable, they'd both marked miles and miles of it over the years she'd been a student. He met Minerva's eyes and saw the hope and fear warring in them.

Weasley was up, now loudly demanding of the hall in general where Potter was, as he would never leave his owl behind.

Minerva pocketed the letter and mouthed. "Later." He nodded slightly, thankful that Albus hadn't come to breakfast. She stood and moved towards the Gryffindor table admonishing Weasley for causing a fuss. He subsided under her eye, but the mulish set to his shoulders clearly indicated that the time of excuses had passed. His friends had been gone for a month, and his patience had run out.

Severus stood and swept from the hall, not willing to witness or be dragged into whatever happened next. He would see Minerva later and find out what Miss Granger was about. In the meantime, he had students to teach, a Dark Lord to placate, and a Headmaster to avoid.

She came to his office at the end of the day, handed him the parchment and walked straight to his supply of whisky. That bad then.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

First I must beg your forgiveness although I acknowledge that I am undeserving of such. My actions are my own, and no reflection on you or your position as my Head of House. I must also beg the forgiveness of Professor Snape; I suppose you could argue that I have in effect jilted him, to which I send my apologies. But moreover, I send my deepest regrets that any of my actions may cause harm to come to him in the execution of his duties. Please, would you let him know?