The ride down the tunnel was as disgusting as ever. Even after a hasty cleaning charm, Heather felt the need to scrub her skin raw. She barely waited for the muted thump signalling her companion's arrival before running deeper into the network of caverns.
She spared a brief moment of déjà vu to her fourth year, with this exact same thing happening. Only this time, she was rushing to save Arthur Weasley and not his daughter.
"We should have brought brooms," she huffed in annoyance.
"If you fancy ending up as the latest stain on these walls, by all means," the man behind her retorted.
"Why, Professor Snape," she began, offended, "are you calling me a bad flier?"
"Do not put words in my mouth, Miss Potter."
Even their back and forth banter was similar. It was almost nostalgic, if it weren't for the distinct atmosphere of doom which tinted both these incidents.
They soon reached the main chamber, whereupon Heather very nearly emptied her stomach on the already-filthy floor. The cloying stench of rotting basilisk was eye-watering and she was quick to throw up a Bubblehead Charm. The clean filtered air was a blessed relief to her senses. For a moment, she was worried about the quality of venom remaining after all these years, but she hoped that the durability of the creature, even in death, would serve them well now.
Professor Snape was quick to get to work, putting on his protective cloak and gloves. Heather stood by, watching him work. Outside of her garden, she had no experience in ingredient gathering. Especially with dangerous materials like basilisk parts. She observed intently as the man pried the maw of the beast open, biceps bulging at the strain. Briefly distracted, she contemplated the strength the man held hidden beneath his restrictive black clothing. Inexplicably, it sent a shiver down her spine, which she attributed to the draughty dungeon.
She returned to attention when Professor Snape turned around, venom sac encased safely in a diamond phial. Painfully aware of the clock ticking, they headed off hastily to begin brewing Arthur Weasley's cure.
They worked around each other seamlessly, familiarity smoothing away any bumps that might have arisen. Between the two of them - one a Potions Master, another a budding one - they made quick progress with the complicated brew. While Professor Snape was clearly the more skilled, Heather was able to keep up admirably.
Nearing the end, when the liquid was simmering quietly, she tapped her teacher lightly on the arm to nudge him away from the cauldron. She took up a diamond stirring rod, looking pointedly at the other wizard for permission. When given the go ahead, she smiled at the show of trust. With an experienced flourish, she drew the runes for swiftness, wholeness and health in rapid succession. The potion glowed brightly before settling.
She had tinkered around with the best combination of runes for this particular potion over the summer, when she had remembered the basilisk carcass lying underneath the school. It was truly serendipitous that she had, now that there was no time to think it over from scratch.
When the basilisk antivenin was finally done, they carefully ladled it all into unbreakable phials. Not a drop of the precious curative was spilt. They each took an equal portion of the phials by unspoken agreement.
Potion in hand, the older man shared triumphant a look with Heather. Both were looking worse for wear, robes askew and filthy from their time in the Chamber of Secrets. Nevertheless, a spark of something passed between their locked gazes. Hours seemed to pass as she lost herself in his dark stare. An urge she couldn't name rose up in her and she found herself taking a step forward.
The moment was broken when Heather recalled the reason for their urgency in the first place. Inexplicably, disappointment reigned in her mind when she left for Grimmauld Place while Professor Snape went to hand the potion to Dumbledore.
The nagging sense of an opportunity lost hung over her head the whole way.
~~~
Just as Heather started to nod off against Hadrian's shoulder, the fireplace flared green. She startled awake, watching blearily as Mrs Weasley stepped through, Dumbledore following a while after. She stifled a yawn guiltily at the dark circles under her friends' eyes. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but all that dashing about must have worn her out.
Through the crack in the curtains, she noted that dawn had broken. She estimated that it had been an hour since the antivenin was completed. Enough time for it to have acted, especially with the runes in play.
Heather scrutinised Mrs Weasley, noting the ease in her shoulders and light in her eyes with immense relief. While she had been reasonably confident about the potion working, she had had no clue whether she and Professor Snape made it in time or not.
The Weasley children in the room swarmed their mother, pelting her with questions. Hadrian and Heather hung back awkwardly, watching the family come together in shared tears and joy at the (relatively) good news. Mrs Weasley wouldn't have that though, clucking her tongue in exasperation and pulling them into the group hug.
She gripped Rian's hand tightly, snuggling deeper into the hug and enjoying the warmth of family.
The mood in the house was markedly higher during breakfast. They would be visiting Mr Weasley at the hospital after this, and that was enough to help Heather stave off sleep. It had been a struggle for them all to wait for opening hours at St Mungo's to start before making their way, but they managed adequately, if not graciously.
Because there were so many of them (Fred, George, Ginny, Hadrian, Heather, Mrs Weasley, Sirius and Remus) they decided to floo there directly rather than risk gaining attention by going out into the muggle world in such a large group.
When they were finally let into the ward room after flying through the hoops that were hospital bureaucracy, Heather and her brother once again stood back to let their friends reunite with their father. Mr Weasley looked rather robust for a man who had been mortally injured only hours before. In a strange twist of fate, she thanked Salazar (how fitting that expression was now) for the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
Heather drifted over to the healer's report at the foot of the bed, perusing it. She paled rapidly at the messily-written notes. Severe haemorrhaging leading to hypovolemic shock, crushed trachea, bilateral renal failure, peripheral tissue necrosis. Yet, Mr Weasley looked mostly well but for the bandage around his neck and a slight bit of paleness! It was a wonder how much magic could heal.
Administering the antivenin had stopped the necrosis from spreading and allowed the wound to clot properly. Before that, the healers had been struggling to prevent Mr Weasley from bleeding out. The venom was apparently a potent anticoagulant as well.
She quickly shut the file, putting it out of view. She hoped none of the others read this. They didn't need to know exactly how close the man had been to death.
~~~
Unfortunately, they couldn't stay at the hospital for long, and they were quickly ushered back to Grimmauld Place. Now that the immediate danger was over, Heather began to wonder about the entire situation. Hadrian had explained to the anxious Weasley children exactly what had happened while waiting for the news. She was perplexed by his words. A vision, he had called it. To her knowledge, Hadrian had shown no signs of being a Seer. If he truly had the gift, visions would have manifested at an early age.
So why had Hadrian dreamt about Mr Weasley being attacked by a snake?
"No, you don't understand. I was the snake," her brother said, pained, "I felt my fangs tearing through his neck, felt the warm blood spilling out. He was prey and I was ecstatic over my successful hunt." He clapped a hand over his mouth, dry-heaving.
She pulled him into her arms, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "Sshh, Rian. You know that's rubbish. Whatever caused you to dream of that snake's perspective during the attack, just remember. You didn't attack Mr Weasley. That wasn't you."
"Yeah, mate. Heck, if it wasn't for you, who knows what could have happened to Dad." Ron looked a tad green at the thought of his father bleeding out on the floor without anyone knowing.
"You saved our Dad, Hadrian. Don't think otherwise," Ginny affirmed, nodding.
Her brother sighed. "Thanks for believing in me. I'll try to do that myself. It was just so real. Much more vivid than the other dreams I had."
Alarmed, Heather leaned back to look into his eyes. "What other dreams?"
"I've been having hazy dreams about the same long corridor Mr Weasley was in. There were lots of shiny orbs. I was looking for something." He shrugged. "Been a couple of weeks now. They come and go. Like I said, those were very foggy. Like looking through frosted glass."
Heather had to revise her earlier thoughts. Those did sound like prophetic visions. Was it possible for a new skill in Seeing to reveal itself post-puberty?
"Err, guys. Bad news," Fred called from other end of the room. He and George were using an Extendable Ear to listen in on the Order meeting going on downstairs. The Order was up to something in the Ministry. What, exactly, they weren't sure. What with the school term starting, they hadn't been able to eavesdrop on the meetings.
"What is it?" Hadrian asked anxiously. "Is it about the attack?"
"Sort of," George hedged.
"Dad was guarding something in the Ministry. Something that Snakeface wants," Fred explained.
"They think you were possessed," George blurted out. Wincing, he muttered, "That could have come out better."
"What my brother means to say," Fred said, rolling his eyes, "is that old Dumbles thinks your scar holds a connection to He-Who-Has-Too-Many-Bloody-Names and his excitement about the attack accidentally gave you that dream."
"Voldemort can see my dreams?!" he all but shrieked.
A short burst of laughter left Ginny's lips. "Why, got something to hide?" she ribbed. "Good dreams of Cedric?"
"No!" Rian protested vehemently, face burning. "It's just creepy, that's all."
"As hilarious as that sounds-"
"-no, that's not what we said."
"Not to say it couldn't be true. Who knows-"
"-what's really happening."
"All Dumbledore said is that-"
"-Snakey was so hyped up he sent you dreams."
"So it's like the other way round? You're seeing You-Know-Who's dreams," Ginny inferred.
"Ugh, I don't know which is worse," Ron muttered.
"What kind of good dreams does Voldemort have?" Hadrian shivered in revulsion, the others giving similar reactions.
"Let's not follow that delightful train of thought," Heather stated firmly, "Anything else happen?"
"They're stationing more people at that place," Fred said.
"Still no clue where it is though," George added, shrugging.
"Just that it's in the Ministry."
"Must be something important, if they want to keep it away from You-Know-Who so bad," Ginny said lowly. Enough to risk their lives to guard it, was what she left unsaid, clearly thinking of her father.
Frowning in thought, Heather said, "I don't think there's much we can do about that secret thing at the moment. I'm more concerned about this so-called connection between Hadrian's scar and Voldemort."
"Figures you'd be," Ron said.
"Heather-harp's right," George said, bopping his brother lightly in the head.
"Yeah. If Hadrian can see into Snakey's head, who's to say the opposite can't happen?" Fred reasoned.
Heather scowled. "I'm not sure the secrecy contract covers this weird mental connection. It can ward off Legilimency and Veritaserum, but I didn't anticipate this. Furthermore, what if there are other consequences to this link?"
"I felt really weird earlier," Hadrian mentioned, "I think it was the connection. When I looked Dumbledore right in the eye, I just felt so angry. Like crazy-rampage angry."
"Sure it wasn't just the sparkly violet robes? I'm pretty sure those should be illegal," Ginny offered.
"Nope, though you're right on that count."
"That's pretty messed up, mate." Ron suddenly shoved his face closer to Hadrian's, squinting. "Feel any different?"
Her brother pushed him away, chuckling. "Nothing, still annoying."
"Hey!"
"I'll start researching again. I shouldn't have stopped last year when you got those visions, but there was just so much other stuff to do."
"Don't you have a lot of stuff right now too?" Hadrian looked at her sternly. "Don't think I can't see those bags under your eyes. You've been working too hard. Maybe we should ask Hermione to assist you with the DA research to give you more free time."
"Well, if Hermione has the time, she can help," Heather said easily. That would just free up more time for her to investigate this weird connection. It wasn't like she was running herself ragged every day. She was just a bit more tired than she was used to.
Who had time to sleep when their brother was sharing headspace with a deranged megalomaniac?
~~~
Mr Weasley was quickly discharged from hospital, good as new after being treated by the antivenin. Hermione eventually joined them at Grimmauld Place and the rest of the school break passed without event.
It was on the last day before they were due back to Hogwarts that Hadrian received some interesting news.
"Potter," a familiar voice barked out. Both Heather and Hadrian looked towards the door. Standing at the entrance to one of the drawing rooms in Grimmauld Place was none other than Professor Snape.
Heather's heart fluttered restlessly at the sight. She hadn't seen him since their last charged encounter, when they finished brewing the antivenin. She hadn't figured out her strange reactions to the man, and she had a feeling she didn't want to.
"Yes Professor Snape?" they both said together. Looking at her brother, she couldn't stifle a smile. FredGeorge would be so proud.
"I was referring to Mr Potter," he snapped impatiently.
She raised an eyebrow at his tone. It seemed he was in a mood today. And not only because he was speaking to her brother. He was truly frustrated by something.
"Would you like me to leave?" she asked, already preparing to get up. Hadrian shot her a panicked look at the thought of being left alone with the intimidating Professor.
Heather could see the man thinking before he scowled. "Sit back down," he commanded. "It would be easier to just tell you both."
The man crossed over to the seat opposite them and sank into it fluidly. "I have been tasked by the Headmaster to teach Mr Potter Occlumency."
Occlumency? Heather let a tiny giggle escape. How ironic.
"Yes, Miss Potter, I am aware of the irony of the situation," Professor Snape stated dryly.
She sat up straight. "I'm still occluding, right? You didn't pick that up from my head?"
He gave her an unimpressed look. Uh oh. "Yes," he sighed in exasperation, "your shields are still adequate. Glad to see my instruction has not been for naught. Also, I believe I have said that the mind is not-"
"-a book to be read, with thoughts as sentences off a page. Yes, I know," she finished cheekily.
"That is not what I said."
"Yes, but I didn't think you would appreciate me quoting the whole conversation back to you, so I paraphrased. I could still do it now, if you like." She really could. She could quote a lot of what he said, she realised. He could be quite poetic, for such a sullen man. Well, brooding and poetry went hand in hand, she supposed.
Her brother shifted uncomfortably on the couch they shared, reminding her that they weren't alone. Professor Snape cleared his throat, closing off his expression.
"The Headmaster believes that any future...episodes can be prevented by Occlumency. Thus, it falls upon me to instruct you on the delicate art. Lessons will be held every Monday and Wednesday, after dinner. Do not be late. I have much better things to do than pander to a misbehaving brat. It is also imperative that these lessons remain confidential. Word cannot get back to the Dark Lord about them."
"Won't anyone get suspicious about me going to the dungeons twice a week?" Hadrian asked.
"Actually," Heather chimed in, "would it be easier if I taught Hadrian? You've already deemed me passable," which to the common person meant 'skilled', "and it would be less risky. Your position wouldn't be jeopardised."
"Your passing knowledge in Occlumency is not enough to instruct someone. Legilimency is also a required skillset," he said imperiously.
"Well, I read more about Legilimency after our lessons. It's much easier to learn than its counterpart. If you're amenable, you could teach me how to do it today. And if we're not done by today, it would be easier for me to sneak into your office for the lessons than Hadrian. I'm sure you have much better things to do than dedicate two evenings a week to teaching him Occlumency when you can just teach me Legilimency for a few days."
There were several reasons she was being this insistent. Firstly, she truly did believe Professor Snape's time was better spent elsewhere. He already had so many commitments on his plate. Secondly, Occlumency had to be taught by someone you trusted. Hadrian tiptoed around the man, even if he knew that he didn't genuinely mean him harm. Thirdly, she kind of did want to learn Legilimency.
The man gave her a considering look, weighing the options in his mind. She knew he would agree to her proposition though, since it was beneficial to him.
Suddenly, he whipped out his wand and pointed it straight at her. "Legilimens," he murmured.
The soft tone in which he incanted the spell in no way matched the battering ram that was his mental attack. Caught off guard, he almost penetrated her regular shields before she shored up her defences. She could feel the persistent probing in her mind, feeling for any weakness to exploit. The spell went on for a long while, testing the limits of her endurance. When she felt the invasion finally recede, she almost relaxed before remembering that she should have her shields up at all times.
It was a good thing she did, because she could feel the tiniest flicker of sensation remaining, prodding lightly and looking for weak spots. It was nothing like the heavy-hitting attack earlier, but she knew it could easily bypass her defences if she faltered even slightly.
Finally, it seemed like Professor Snape had deemed her shields sufficient, for he lowered his wand and the spell. Properly, this time. That had been strenuous. Mental exhaustion was no easier to bear than physical, despite claims to the contrary.
"Very well," Professor Snape pronounced, "Be prepared to learn both types of Legilimentic attack. While not as difficult to grasp as Occlumency, it is by no means a simple spell."
Heather wiped the sweat off her forehead, grinning at the implied praise. Well, sort of. The fact that he was willing to teach her meant he believed she could do it. He wasn't one to waste time on unmanageable ventures.
She turned to her brother to see what he made of that, only to find him glaring intently, wand out at the Professor. He snapped back to his senses, lowering his wand sheepishly. "Sorry, sir," he muttered.
Huh. She guessed it was a sensible reaction to someone abruptly turning their wand against you. It was a good reflex to have, especially with the current situation in Britain. She would have done the same thing, if it were someone else on the other end of that wand.
She hadn't batted an eye when Professor Snape had done it. He had drawn his wand at her and cast a spell and she hadn't even tried to defend herself or dodge. It dawned on her then that she really trusted him unconditionally.
Heather didn't know why that realisation stunned her. She should have known that already. But seeing that play out had been different from thinking about it theoretically.
~~~
The door shut with a solid thud as Hadrian scuttled out of the room. He leaned against the closed door, somehow feeling like he'd just had a close call. He had never felt such an urgent need to leave a room before. It was bizarre. It was Professor Snape who had barged into the room while he and his sister had been working on some DA stuff, and yet Hadrian felt like he was the one intruding.
Bizarre didn't cover it.
He had never seen the man so...not angry before. He doubted he had ever seen the man not angry, period. Heather had repeatedly assured him that the Slytherin Head wasn't as bad as he appeared, but seeing was believing. Well, it would be if he could wrap his mind around it.
"Hadrian? Thought you were in the Blue Room with Heather."
Blinking rapidly, he saw that he had made his way to the adjacent room while stuck in his head. The four youngest Weasley children and Hermione were sprawled in various poses across the room, doing their own things.
Shaking his head, he answered Ginny absently, "Oh, Professor Snape just arrived." His friends all looked up in curiosity, except for the twins, who simply nodded.
"Ahh, that explains it," they both stated.
"Explains what?" He frowned at them in confusion. "Did you two know he was going to come today?"
"Well, not exactly. What we-"
"-meant was that we aren't surprised-"
"-you got booted out of the room."
He rolled his eyes. "I didn't get 'booted out', they just have stuff to do."
"Why was Professor Snape looking for Heather?" Hermione asked.
Plopping himself on an available couch, Hadrian hummed thoughtfully. "That's the thing, though. He was actually supposed to be here for me."
"What d'you mean, mate? What does the old bat want with you? Giving you detention in advance?" Ron said, sniggering.
"No," Hadrian muttered, "he was actually pretty nice today. Well, by his standards. I think he may even have smiled once. Or it was a smirk, at least. And not one of those '50 points from Gryffindor' smirks. And honest-to-Merlin amused smirk."
Ginny got up from her lounging position on the carpet and leaned forward eagerly. "No way! Tell us everything!"
So Hadrian recounted the conversation, adding some commentary about his sister's and the Professor's behaviour. As he did so, he realised how comfortable Heather was with the man. She was usually unfailingly polite, if not cold, to people she wasn't close to. She had only started being comfortable with teasing Sirius and Remus the last summer holidays!
"What is this thing you need to learn? Is it a potion?" Hermione asked in interest.
"Never mind that! Are you sure Heather said all that?" George asked.
"Word for word?" Fred added.
Hadrian nodded, understanding their confusion. "More or less."
"So what? Sounds like how she talks," Ron said offhandedly, going back to his Quidditch Weekly.
Hadrian exchanged looks with the twins. Yes, Heather did talk like that. With them. Her brother and best friends. The others didn't know how Heather behaved when around other people. It was markedly different. She could come across as distant, or even stand-offish.
Heather and Professor Snape didn't talk like student and teacher; they bantered like old friends. It was absolutely bizarre, considering it was Snape, nasty bat of the dungeons, the bane of Gryffindors everywhere. He didn't even know Professor Snape could speak in anything other than condescension and snarls. Yet he had listened to Heather's suggestion about Legilimency, when Hadrian had expected him to reject it out of pure contrariness.
There was an implication somewhere in there, and Hadrian felt like it was an important one.