At dawn, when Omegas suddenly rose from the armchair and declared, "Well, I'm off," Severus jumped. He was so used to spending sleepless nights alone, in silence, lost in his thoughts, that in the middle of the night he had completely forgotten that he was sharing that habit with her.
He watched her leave and sat there for a while. He thought about the day he had just spent, the information he had received and the information he would receive in a few hours. He thought about Voldemort, then about Nagini. He thought of the last time he had seen them both and shuddered.
He felt it again. He tried to push it away, because he didn't want to listen to it. Because the last time it had disappeared it had hurt too much. But instead of a muffled voice, the feeling became a scream, and filled every corner of his tired mind. He really did not want to die. He had no intention of dying.
In the last twenty-four hours, he had felt more alive than he had in years; even watching Death Eaters being tortured hadn't hurt him as much as it had in the past. He blamed Omegas' spell. That bloody spell had made him feel too good. How annoying, how frustrating. He had to ask her to teach it to him.
He rose from the armchair and left his quarters for his office: he would rather wait there.
As he passed through the wooden door, he immediately glanced at the clock behind the desk. Eight o'clock. He decided to get to work, if only to kill time.
The supply cupboard was almost full: it had taken much less time than expected, thanks to the help. There could never be too much Anaesthetic Potion, though. Even in less tragic times at Hogwarts, there had been one accident after another, and he was sure Madam Pomfrey would be pleased to find the supplies a little more plentiful than usual. He took his cauldron and set to work.
He worked for what seemed like hours before turning to look at the clock. Eight thirty. He was surprised, as he was generally quite good at keeping track of time. He worked again for what he felt was at least three hours; he turned again. A quarter past nine. What on earth was happening?
After another twenty minutes, which he felt was at least an hour and a half, Severus finally understood. It was another emotion that had been dormant in him for years, a long forgotten feeling: Impatience. The desire to live the moment after the present. That useless, irritating feeling of time slowing down just when you want it to speed up.
He cursed, put away his cauldron and left the office. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he couldn't stay still.
He walked down the corridor to the other end of the dungeons and looked at the door in front of him: the new hospital wing. Yes... even though most of the magical wounds had healed, there was always something to do in there. It was because of the urgent need to find something to occupy his time that he decided to enter it, of course. It had nothing to do with the fact that he knew Omegas would most likely be there.
He flung open the doors and stepped into the room. It was almost completely empty, the occupants of the few remaining beds fast asleep. At the far end of the room, behind the large wooden table, was someone Severus did not want to see: Tonks. An irritated grimace formed on his face. He turned and was on his way out the door when the conversation between the two women convinced him to stop.
"You won't actually do it, will you?" asked Tonks. She sounded horrified.
Severus turned, eyes narrowing, and took cautious steps towards them.
"Sweet Salazar, Tonks," sighed Omegas. "You're making this much bigger than it is."
"Bigger than—I'm not!"
Omegas huffed.
Severus took a few more steps in their direction. As he got closer, he noticed an old looking mirror propped up behind the table. Omegas' reflection saw him and greeted him with a nod.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
She turned—only then did he notice that she had her wand pointed at her head.
"Changing," she replied softly.
Merlin, she was ridiculous. Even in that situation, she couldn't answer without acting mysterious. Severus rolled his eyes and turned back to Tonks; she held her fingers to her mouth as though she were about to witness an execution.
"Om, this isn't necessary. It really isn't," she insisted.
"It is," Omegas countered. "Trust me. And my name is Omegas, by the way. Not 'Om'."
"Aw, but it's cute!"
Omegas pointed her wand at her and waved it in front of her nose.
"I'll start calling you Nymphadora," she said threateningly.
Tonks opened her mouth to retort, but closed it immediately.
Omegas turned back to the mirror and repositioned her wand atop her head. "Let's get this over with."
She waved her wand and a yellowish spark shot from the tip. There was a violent rip; then at least three-quarters of her hair fell to the ground.
Severus was taken aback. He was sure it wouldn't have affected him in any other circumstance, but to see that huge mass of black curls, which had almost reached her legs a moment before, lying on the floor was impressive.
She looked at herself in the mirror for a few more moments, adjusting what was left of her hair. The curls now reached just above her shoulders and seemed to defy gravity with remarkable audacity. It looked, Severus thought, like a large black cloud hovering ominously around her round face.
"Done," she announced.
She turned to her friend, who had covered her eyes with her hands, peering at the scene through a tiny gap between two fingers.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Omegas muttered. "It's just hair!"
Tonks seemed deeply offended. "How can you say that?"
"That's literally what it is!" she retorted.
She waved her wand and the shapeless mass of black curls on the floor disappeared.
"It'll take years to grow back..." Tonks murmured, staring at the now empty spot on the floor.
"Yeah," confirmed Omegas, taking another look at her reflection. "You know what? I don't think I'm going to let it. I like it."
Tonks' mouth fell open. She seemed to be trying to say something, but couldn't find the words.
Omegas turned to Severus and made the mirror disappear with another lazy wave of her wand.
"Is it time?" she asked.
Severus turned to the large clock, which now read five to ten. He shook his head.
She huffed, sat down on the edge of the table and crossed her arms. "Time never passes when you want it to, does it?"
He gave a weak nod and a bitter grimace.
"What is that you're waiting for exactly?" Tonks asked.
Omegas flashed one of her trademark mysterious smiles. Severus hadn't seen one for a while: there was little left for her to be mysterious about with him. The only thing was...
He paused for a moment to think about the night he had tried to read her mind. He hadn't thought about it since.
"Well, we'd better get some breakfast then. Remus is waiting for us," said Tonks cheerfully. She walked past the table and turned to look at him. "You coming?"
Severus stood frozen. He blinked a few times more than necessary; then he glanced at Omegas, who seemed to be holding back a laugh.
The prospect of having breakfast with Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin was, there was no other word for it, nauseating. Yet he couldn't say no. He read the same sincere spontaneity in Tonks' face that he'd seen in Omegas' weeks before, and he didn't know how to respond except with a quiet nod.
Thus, for the first time in seventeen years, Severus Snape went to the Great Hall to eat breakfast in company. Not the forced company of the High Table, where he would sit stiffly and talk just enough to appear cordial. He went to breakfast as one does with friends.
It wasn't particularly pleasant: as usual, Tonks didn't stop talking for a moment, and Omegas remained silent, listening. In fact, it didn't even seem like she was listening, Severus thought, more like she was lost in her own world and used Tonks' incessant chatter as background noise. He and Lupin didn't exchange a word, which didn't bother him at all. By the time the four of them had finished eating, it was nearly eleven, and he and Omegas left the other two to go to his office.
"They're late," Omegas noted, pointing at the clock.
It read eleven and three minutes.
Three minutes wasn't enough to be considered 'late'; or at least that's what dozens of people he'd accused of it in his life had told him. It seemed that under five minutes, for some even ten, lateness couldn't be reprimanded. However, Severus, who had never been late in his thirty-eight years of life, had never liked it.
"Indeed," he agreed.
She shook her head. "Mr Malfoy didn't strike me as the type."
Hearing her call Draco 'Mr Malfoy' had a certain effect on him. Mr Malfoy was someone else to him, someone he would rather not think about. He looked at her, but she continued to stare at the clock.
"I have one question."
"Just one? I have quite a few," she replied, tapping her fingers on the desk.
"Not for Potter," he clarified. "For you."
She turned and met his gaze with a newfound smile.
"Oh," she murmured. "Go on then."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you call him 'Mr Malfoy'?"
Omegas lost her smile, lowered her head and blushed.
Severus had never seen her blush like that. Not while she had been naked on the damp ground of The Forbidden Forest; not while he examined dozens of whitish scars on her abdomen; not even while she discussed spells she had invented to provoke physical pleasure in the target. He watched, intrigued, and waited.
"I don't know how to do it," she mumbled.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"I don't know how to do it," she repeated, raising her voice.
He frowned. "How to do what?"
"How to… understand when to address someone formally or not. I just don't get it. How do you do it?"
Severus stared at her in surprise. She reminded him of a first year girl confessing that she didn't understand the order in which to add ingredients to her cauldron. For some reason, instead of wanting to shout at her for being stupid, he felt the urge to smile. Of course, he suppressed it.
"You can call him Draco," he said softly.
"Oh…" she replied. "Can I?"
He nodded.
"All right, then."
They kept holding each other's gaze until the door behind them opened.
Draco entered tentatively and with the air of someone who hasn't slept a wink. He closed the door behind him and approached them slowly.
"Where's Potter?" asked Severus.
"On his way," he replied.
He bowed his head and stared down at the desk. He seemed worried.
Severus and Omegas exchanged slightly puzzled glances.
"What is it?" he asked.
Draco hesitated. He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable, as he fumbled with an empty vial on the table.
Severus snatched it from his hand. "What's going on?" he pressed.
"Well…" the boy replied tentatively. "I was wondering, sir, if it would be possible... I... well..."
Severus thought he saw him blush. He rolled his eyes and approached him with measured steps.
"Speak," he commanded.
"I was wondering, sir, if you could avoid telling Potter that I told you about the Room of Requirement," he said in one breath.
Severus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but he refused to meet his gaze.
"And why is that?"
"Because… because…"
Severus didn't need that answer; he knew. Draco didn't want Harry to know that he had betrayed his trust. He was growing attached to him. Before he could voice his disgust at the thought, someone knocked at the door.
"Come in," he said coldly.
Harry entered and gave each of those present a cordial nod.
"Good morning, sir. Ma'am."
"Sir down, Potter," Severus said quietly. "You too," he added, nodding at Draco.
The boys sat down in the chairs the Professor had placed in front of his desk since eight that morning. Severus and Omegas sat behind the table and looked at each other for a moment; she gave him an eloquent look that meant 'You speak'. He nodded and turned back to them.
"So…" he began.
He met Harry's green eyes, then glanced at Draco, who kept his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the desk.
He considered. It was practically impossible to explain to Harry how he had come by the information without revealing who had helped him. He couldn't tell him he'd been to the Room of Requirement, he couldn't tell him he'd interrogated Selwyn, especially as he was sure he wouldn't approve of his methods and he didn't want to waste time arguing with him. So he got straight to the point.
"We know about the Horcruxes," he declared.
Harry stiffened in his seat, eyes wide.
"And we know about the Deathly Hallows," Severus added.
The boy glanced around frantically. His eyes fell on Omegas, who, Severus knew without bothering to look at her, was surely giving him one of her cryptic smiles. Then he looked at Draco, who had no idea what Horcruxes or Deathly Hallows were, but who was playing along with such arrogant confidence that Severus thought he'd probably believed him too. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but only an indistinct murmur came out. He began to sweat.
Severus savoured every moment of that reaction, every tiny detail, to the point where it became a challenge not to burst out laughing.
"I… how?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Severus didn't bother to hide a mocking grin. "That's not important," he said sleekly. "What matters is that we know. We know about Nagini and we also know where Voldemort is likely to hide her."
Harry got up abruptly. "Where?"
Severus stared at him in the eye and lost his grin. "Sit down, Potter," he ordered.
He used such a dangerously oily tone that he almost frightened himself.
The boy stared back at him, then cautiously sat down again.
"You owe me some explanations," he prompted.
Harry looked around. He seemed to be looking for help; surely he was hoping to see Granger's or Weasley's eyes appear out of nowhere. But there were only his, those of the boy he had hated for the last seven years, and those of a woman he knew absolutely nothing about.
He sighed. "Well, if someone had to find out, I'm glad it was you."
The words surprised Severus, but he was careful not to show it.
"I destroyed them. All of them," explained the boy. "Well, almost all of them. It's just the snake left… once the snake is dead, Voldemort can die. Do you remember the book in the beaded bag?"
The Professor nodded.
"Well, I needed it to understand if he could create more. I searched the library, but I think that is the only copy."
"And?" Severus asked impatiently.
"And, I don't think he did," Harry replied.
He got up and paced restlessly.
"According to the book, creating more than one Horcrux is risky, and he has already created seven, if we count the one in me. Ever since he came back, I mean, since he did that thing at the Triwizard Tournament, he's not exactly human, is he? I don't think he's got a real soul to split anymore. At least that's what Hermione says."
Severus was stunned into silence. Seven? Seven Horcruxes? He turned to look at Omegas, certain the news would astonish her. She showed no reaction at all, only the faintest hint of an unreadable smile. Taking his look as a silent permission to act, she approached the boy.
"How did you destroy them?" she asked.
"Oh, I…"
He looked at the Professor, as though asking for permission to reply. He gave him a cold look and nodded firmly.
"Well, there aren't many things that can destroy them," he explained. "Basilisk Venom works, I used that, and then I used the Sword of Gryffindor. I used it to kill it years ago, and it has been impregnated with its venom ever since, and you know... it only absorbs what makes it stronger."
Understanding quickly dawned on Severus' face. At last the picture was clear. Finally, everything Dumbledore had asked him to do over time, without giving him any further information, all the times he had had to obey without asking questions, had taken on a meaning. A sense. But why had Dumbledore kept it from him? Perhaps he didn't trust him completely. Perhaps he had doubts. Severus grew irritated. He had had reservations. After all he—
"You killed a Basilisk?"
Omegas interrupted his train of thought. She asked the question with just a hint of anger.
"I… yes, ma'am. I did."
"Why would you do such a thing?" she demanded.
"Because…" Harry replied, looking for help in the Professor's eyes. He found none. "Because it tried to kill me."
"Of course it tried to kill you, it was a Basilisk," she snarled. "What did you expect it to do? But you could have found another solution. Do you have any idea what a magnificent creature you—"
"No, ma'am, I have no idea. I was a little too busy trying not to die," he snapped.
Omegas seemed outraged. She opened her mouth to reply; Severus was sure she was going to shout at him, but she didn't. She regained her composure and looked away haughtily.
"Of course," she muttered contemptuously.
There was a tense pause.
"The Deathly Hallows?" asked Severus.
Harry met his eyes again. "Right, those…" he said. "I've decided not to gather them, sir. I'm not sure it's a good idea."
The Professor studied him through narrowed eyes. "Well, that's a shame, Potter, because it seems Voldemort thinks otherwise."
"I know," he replied. "But he has no way of doing it."
Severus caught a hint of proud insolence in those green eyes.
"Would you like to explain, Potter?" he asked sardonically.
"Well, he can't get to the Stone, because to want to find it to collect the Hallows is to want to use it. He has the Wand, but he can't use it fully, not while you're alive. And the Cloak... he'll never have that," he said, now decidedly brazen.
Severus was suddenly reminded of how deeply he hated that impertinent tone and look. He opened his mouth to retort sourly, but a realisation stopped him.
"You…" he murmured. "It's your Cloak, isn't it?"
The smile on the boy's face widened. He nodded. "It was my father's."
Severus felt a strong urge to vomit.
"Is it true you're alive because of the Stone?" Omegas asked, not a trace of her old politeness.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
She narrowed her eyes and frowned. She walked around the desk, stood in front of him, and studied him as if he were some sort of bizarre dark artefact.
"That's not possible," she declared.
Harry turned to the Professor for help again, but he looked at him with a raised eyebrow and lips curled in a sceptical sneer.
"I…" he murmured tentatively. "Might I know where the snake is now, sir?"
Omegas moved away from him and sat down on the edge of the table, her arms crossed. She seemed genuinely, deeply irritated by the boy. The emotion Severus had managed to keep at bay for the better part of a day was finally returning: empathy. Only this time the reason behind it was so profoundly different from the last that it almost pleased him.
He turned back to Harry. "The Death Eaters take turns guarding the Department of Mysteries. The snake is probably there."
The boy looked at him and nodded firmly. "Thank you."
He turned around and walked to the door.
"Where do you think you're going, Potter?"
Harry turned back. "Sir?"
Severus approached him with measured strides. He looked him in the eye and pointed to the chair behind him.
"Sit down," he commanded icily.
The boy held his dangerous look, then took a breath and returned to his chair. Severus made his way to the desk and sat down in front of him.
"If we are to reach the Department of Mysteries, we must have a plan that allows us to get out alive. Uninjured, even."
Harry furrowed his brow. "We?"
"Yes, Potter, we," he said categorically.
The boy seemed to ponder for a moment, then shook his head vigorously.
"No. This is something I must do alone."
Severus felt compelled to slap him. He decided to express it through a murderous glare instead.
Before he could reply, however, the woman beside him burst into a joyless laugh that made them all turn to her; even he, as used as he was to hear her giggle in the most inappropriate moments, was taken aback.
"Dumbledore put the idea in your head, didn't he?" she asked.
Harry gave her a miserably failed attempt at a blank look.
"Of course it was him," she sneered. "That's what he always did. He had a tendency to make everything personal. 'This is something only you can do'," she mocked. "'This is between you and him'. Ridiculous, bloody old bastard."
Harry stood up once more, but this time Severus intercepted him.
"Sit down, Potter!" he snapped furiously.
"Only I can kill Voldemort!" he blurted out. "There is a prophecy. It was said—"
"Then you will be the one to kill him," she shot back. "It doesn't mean you have to do everything else on your own because Dumbledore told you to!"
"Dumbledore said—"
"Dumbledore is dead!" she shouted.
Harry fell silent. He paled, swallowed and stared into her violet eyes.
"He's dead," she added softly. "And you are a seventeen year old boy. You shouldn't have personal affairs with dark wizards fifty years older than you. It's tragic enough that you have to. You don't have to do it alone. You should be protected."
He kept his quiet. He seemed both at the verge of shouting at her, or burst into tears. He bowed his head, clenched his fists and took a deep breath.
When he raised it again, it was with a new determined glint in his eyes. He looked at them in turn.
"What do we do?"
Omegas smiled. She turned, nodded to Severus and returned behind the desk. It took a moment for him to find his words.
"We gather the Order. We will explain the situation. We do things properly, this time."
Harry nodded firmly. "We need to speak with Professor McGonagall."
"I'll do it," replied Severus. "You wait for instructions. Remember, you are not to leave the castle without my permission."
He nodded again, now with a mixture of reluctance and resolution.
"You may go," the Professor said.
Harry started for the door, but stopped in the middle of the room. He lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the floor, his fists still clenched. He glanced over his shoulder.
"Thank you," he whispered.
None of them spoke. Omegas gave him a weak nod, and he left the room.
"Well, uh…" Draco murmured after a moment. "That was something."
Severus and Omegas looked at him blankly.
"I… I should go," he added.
Severus had the impression that he wanted to run after Harry. He did not hide a hint of disgust in the grimace he gave him as he dismissed him.
The room fell silent. Omegas had reached the corner at the back of the room and seemed determined to squeeze herself into the smallest space possible. Severus had seen her do it, not long before. It seemed to be her way to express pain. The reason was not a mystery, he thought; both the Deathly Hallows, so dear to her father, and Dumbledore had been named during that conversation. He did not know the details of their relationship, but it seemed to have been troubled. 'Very complex', as she had so eloquently put it.
He tried to imagine how she must feel. Only after a few minutes did he realise what he was doing: he was feeding the empathy. He stopped immediately and turned away. He needed to find a way to spend some time away from her, for her presence was not doing him any good.
As if reading his mind and keen to be as inappropriate as ever, Omegas walked briskly towards him and stood in front of him. She gave him one of her weak smiles.
"What can I do?" she asked quietly.
Her request was clear. She didn't want to be useful, she needed something to do to stop thinking. Severus understood her, and it annoyed him greatly.
He swept his gaze over her face and noticed that the bags under her eyes were more pronounced than usual. This, combined with her new bizarre haircut, gave her a somewhat sombre look.
"You look terrible," he said curtly.
She chuckled. "Flatterer."
He gave her a glare, but it came out a little less fierce than usual. Then he had an idea.
He reached for a shelf behind his desk, one of the lower ones, and took out a small dark glass bottle. He turned to Omegas and threw it at her.
She caught it, uncorked it, sniffed it and frowned.
"This is your Sleeping Draught," she stated.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Have you run out?"
"I obviously haven't," he replied, pointing at the bottle. "It's there."
"I can see that," she said confusedly. "But do you need me to make more?"
"No."
"Then what—"
"I need you to take it and get some sleep."
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
"You haven't slept for at least forty-eight hours," he hastened to add. "You're no use to me if you're tired enough to make mistakes."
"I don't make mistakes," she retorted.
Severus gave her a sardonic look, that she met unabashedly and with a smug grin. What made it particularly annoying was that he had no grounds to refute her statement.
"I can't sleep all day," she noted. "I have to finish the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin by the end of the week, and they might call me for shield duty. It's been a while."
"I'll do it," he said flatly.
At that, Omegas' jaw dropped. She blinked several times and looked at him as though she was looking at a stranger.
"I don't like it when you're kind, you know that? It wasn't pleasant last time. You're not planning on poisoning me again, are you?"
He gave her a cold stare.
She studied him for another moment. "Alright," she relented.
She picked up her bag and handed it to him.
"The Wolfsbane Potion is in it. You just need to think about it and Accio it. There are at least three full cauldrons: if you accidentally pull out the one with the fuchsia liquid, feel free to study it, but for Merlin's sake," she said with some gravity, "don't drink it."
He took the bag out of her hands. Omegas took the fake Galleon from her dress pocket and placed it on the desk in front of him.
"Well… good night, then."
"Good night," he replied, already turned around.
He waited for the door to close behind his back.
Solitude. Peace. Severus closed his eyes, doing nothing but enjoying it for a moment. When he opened them again, his gaze fell on the object resting on his desk.
He had never seen that bag anywhere but at Omegas' side. She never left it unattended except in his quarters, when she knew the door would be locked and Severus would be with her. When she had it with her, it never left her shoulder; not even when he had seen her fight had she ever taken it off. She hadn't taken it off when she got on the broom, the day he met her, and she held on to it as she fell. She took it with her when she showered and even slept next to it.
The reason was obvious: she was practically a nomad, and the bag was enchanted to hold everything she needed. Inside were her cauldrons, her potions, her books, her wand, her clothes, everything she owned. He was almost certain that she somehow managed to fit her big wooden table in there when it wasn't in the hospital wing. It was the closest thing to a home she had, and now it was there, in front of him, unattended. It had been a great show of trust to leave it with him. But then again, Severus thought, she probably didn't have much else to hide from him at this point.
His mind wandered back to that night again, to the memory he had witnessed, and in an instant it was there again. Curiosity. Uncontrolled, untamed, his thoughts shifted to something else.
He saw her twirl a long silver thread in the air and place it between the pages of a small black leather bound book.
"My whole life," he heard her say.
He saw her close the book and put it back inside that very bag. Then, an idea.
He stared at the bag for a long time, so long that when he became alert again he realised that lunchtime was approaching and if he wanted to speak to Professor McGonagall in private, he would have to do it quickly before she went down to the Great Hall and was surrounded by prying ears. He grabbed the bag and locked it in a cupboard behind him. He locked the cupboard and then locked his office door, not quite sure if he was trying to keep the bag safe from potential strangers or from himself.
The conversation with Professor McGonagall was rather brief, mainly because Severus thought it best to discuss the details of the situation directly at the meeting. It was scheduled for the following day, as the shifts for the shield had already been set for that day, and many members of the Order would need to be on duty. There weren't many people capable of producing a decent Patronus.
Severus hated that duty. To let the silver doe be seen by that many eyes made him deeply uncomfortable. He knew it was necessary—it had been his idea— but he loathed it all the same. He hoped with all his might that it wouldn't be his or Omegas' turn that day, since he had offered to cover for her. He wondered if she hated the burden as much as he did, and lingered on the thought for a long time as he ate lunch alone in his office. Why should she? It must be the bloody empathy again.
Then he thought back to when he had asked her to talk about her Patronus.
"Really? My Patronus? That's the question you think is more important than my father's name?" she had asked.
She had been comfortable enough to reveal his father's name, he noted. Yet not a word about the hedgehog.
Why did he care? It wasn't important. It was just a Patronus, it probably didn't mean anything. Just because his Patronus had a meaning didn't mean it had to be the same for her. It was just a Patronus.
He looked at the cupboard behind him and his fingers began to tap on the desk. He looked at the clock: he had only started eating ten minutes earlier. Suddenly, he realised it: he was feeling them all at once. Empathy, curiosity, and stupid, bloody impatience.
He stood up with a muttered curse and reached the cupboard. He opened it, took out the bag and slammed it on the desk with all the bile he was feeling towards it. He pointed his wand at it. He was going to do it. He had to do it. He was about to do it…
But he didn't do it. He took out Omegas' cauldron and began to work on the Wolfsbane Potion.
He worked for an afternoon that seemed endless; the hands of the clock behind his neck ticking louder and slower every passing second. His eyes shifted from the cauldron to the bag so many times that by mid afternoon he simply stopped paying attention to the potion. He could brew the Wolfsbane Potion with his eyes closed anyway.
Neither galleons heated up, and he was relieved. At around eight in the evening, which might as well have been three in the morning all things considered, Severus slung the bag over his shoulder and left the office, more determined than ever to reach the Great Hall and, hoping to find Omegas awake and feasting, return that bag for good.
But when he crossed the threshold of the hall, she wasn't there. Instead, there was Tonks, sitting at the High Table next to Lupin. She saw him enter and smiled at him. For a moment he feared she was inviting him to dine with them. He turned on his heel and disappeared through the door. He wasn't hungry.
He decided to return to his quarters; he didn't know if he'd find her there, but he could at least take that bloody bag off his shoulder and place it on the armchair for her to find when she returned.
"Asphodel."
Click. Omegas was there. She was still asleep, curled up on an armchair she hadn't even bothered to transfigure. Severus shook his head, sat down opposite her, placed the bag on the table and summoned a glass. He raised it to his lips, and his eyes fell on the bottle of Sleeping Draught beside the bag. Quite a bit seemed to be missing. He leaned over to reach it and placed it between his eyes and the lamp to his right.
His brain did it automatically. He had far too much experience with Sleeping Draughts not to do the maths in less than two seconds: Omegas would sleep at least until the next day. She knew exactly how much to take, so she must have done it on purpose. It was the way she chose not to think.
Think about what? Her father? The Deathly Hallows?
He turned to watch the bag on the table again. He looked away with a grimace of deep disgust and downed the entire contents of his glass.
Severus drank three more glasses, filled to the brim. The first, he told himself, would help him not to think about it, but it had the opposite effect. The second, he knew deep down, he drank it to find the courage to do what he was about to do. And the third, he drank it because he didn't like what he was about to do at all, and at least in the morning he would have a terrible headache to punish himself.
He pointed his wand at the bag, and this time he did it. He thought of the book. The book immediately jumped out and landed in his hands. It surprised him; he thought he would at least have to search for it, find a password or overcome some other kind of protection.
Then he recalled the words Omegas had said in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
"Why hide something if you think no one will ever look for it?"
Of course; she was alone. Why would she bother to hide it? No one but him knew of its existence. The thought thrilled against his better judgement. He held something in his hands that no one else in the world, except its creator, would ever hold. He hated himself for thinking it and decided to drink a fourth glass. When he had finished, he lowered his head and finally looked at the object of so many ruminations.
The book was small but heavy. It was bound in black leather with long silver threads sticking out like bookmarks. The cover was smooth, except for three words carved into it.
Omegas Sylith Grindelwald
Severus took a deep breath, gave one last glance at the sleeping woman and opened the book.