As Severus crossed the threshold of the new hospital wing with Draco at his side, several cold looks fell on both of their faces. He returned them all, one by one, grimly. Then his eyes lingered on the opposite side of the room.
The large wooden table he had seen in the Shrieking Shack was placed in a corner; the same myriad of bottles, vials and containers neatly arranged on it. In the centre stood a black cauldron, slightly smaller than the standard size, and behind the table, with curls ruffled by the hot fumes of a boiling potion, stood Omegas.
Severus turned to Draco. He had lowered his head, seemingly unable to meet the wary stares directed at him.
"Follow me," he commanded.
With the boy close behind him, he made his way towards the mysterious woman.
She, the Professor thought, could have no prejudice against Draco. She had only recognised him when he had revealed that he was a teacher at Hogwarts; a sign that, if she had indeed attended the school, she had done so before he became a professor and only knew him by reputation. And yet… there was that strange reaction she had when he confirmed he was Severus Snape. And her age; she seemed too young to have attended the school before he started teaching, and even if she had, they would have known each other as housemates when he was a student. It was impossible for her to have finished school before he started.
Partly driven by a new, intrusive wave of curiosity, partly determined to ensure that Draco would meet at least one pair of eyes that did not scrutinise him with suspicion, he reached Omegas and stopped in front of her table.
"This is Draco," he announced.
She did not raise her head. She continued to work on what Severus, after leaning over the cauldron to sniff its contents, recognised as half-brewed Skele-Gro.
He cleared his throat to signal his presence, but she did not seem to notice. The Professor and the boy exchanged a perplexed glance.
Draco approached the table and waved his hands in front of the woman's face. She started up, and at first seemed deeply irritated. She looked at them in turn; her face partly relaxed when she met Severus' gaze. She took her wand, pointed it at herself and whispered, "Finite."
"Good evening," she said softly.
"Good evening," Severus replied, somewhat puzzled.
"Isolation Charm," she replied to a question that had not yet been asked. "The chatter distracted me."
She cast a furtive, annoyed glance around the crowded room and added a Fanged Geranium to her cauldron.
"This is Draco," he repeated, gesturing to the boy.
He held out his hand and the woman shook it with a half-smile.
"Omegas. Pleased to meet you."
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, glancing at the various ingredients on the table.
"Making myself useful while I'm here," she replied.
Severus frowned. "Are you planning to leave?"
She looked at him with one of her inscrutable smiles. "As soon as I can."
"I thought you were here to fight," he remarked.
"I am here to fight," she nodded.
"Then—"
"On my own terms," she added.
The two locked eyes in a severe stare.
Meanwhile, Draco had picked up what was undoubtedly a human bone. He brought it to his face and examined it with a curious air. He sniffed it, pulled a disgusted face, then placed it back on the table a few inches to the right of where he had picked it up. As he did so, Omegas' hand shot towards the object and returned it to the exact position it had been in before the boy had moved it.
Severus and Draco exchanged a puzzled look. They blinked a few times too many, before returning to watch the woman at work. She moved swiftly and with quiet nonchalance.
"Excuse me, but who exactly are you?" Draco asked after a moment.
"Omegas," she replied.
"Omegas what?" he retorted.
She looked up at him. She gave him a cryptic smirk and returned to her work.
"Just Omegas."
Draco narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but the slamming of doors and a series of footsteps behind him forced him to turn towards the entrance.
A small crowd entered, led by Professor McGonagall. She paused in the middle of the room; behind her were Harry, Ron and Hermione, all three wearing identical expressions of anguish. Further back were Lupin and Tonks, holding hands—Severus' lips curled automatically into an irritated grimace at the sight of them. Then there was Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid and at least four Weasleys, plus another half dozen people Severus did not bother to identify.
Professor McGonagall waited until all eyes in the room were on her before speaking.
"All original members of the Order of the Phoenix who are able to reach the Great Hall, please do so as soon as possible," she said loudly. "The Order is assembling."
There was a general stir, accompanied by widespread murmuring. Harry caught the Professor's attention and whispered something to her.
"And the members of Dumbledore's Army," she hastened to add.
Another small group of people began walking towards the exit.
Severus turned to Draco. "You come with me," he commanded.
The boy nodded, though with obvious reluctance.
Then the Professor turned to Omegas, who showed no sign of willing to stop preparing her potion.
"Aren't you coming?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
She looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm not."
"Aren't you a member of the Order?"
She gave the matter a thought. "You… could say I am," she replied. "But I never attend the meetings."
Severus gave her one of his best scornful looks. "Ah, I see," he muttered, wrinkling his nose. "Something as trivial as a meeting is not worth your precious time, is it?"
She looked up at him and for a brief moment seemed deeply offended. She glanced at Draco, who was now looking elsewhere with great discomfort and pretending not to exist.
She raised her head with an obvious note of disdain.
"Very well," she grumbled.
She walked around the table and headed for the other side of the room, her chin so high that she seemed to be trying to touch the ceiling with the tip of her nose.
Severus had expected some sort of hostile reaction, but not to such an extent. He stood and watched her for a while before nodding to Draco and heading off himself.
By the time they reached the Great Hall, the members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army were all seated around the High Table. Omegas stood aside, waiting for Draco and Severus to take their seats at one end of the table before walking straight to the other end and sitting next to Tonks.
Once they were seated, Professor McGonagall took her place at the head of the table and raised her arms to signal silence.
"Welcome," she began.
Severus had the impression that she was trying to hide a hint of nervousness with an air of authority. As a result, her tone sounded, if possible, even more stiff than usual.
"As you may have guessed, we are here to assess the situation and decide on our next steps."
She paused for a few seconds, scanning the room as if waiting for someone to object.
No one spoke.
"Although the Death Eaters have temporarily withdrawn, we must not mistake this retreat for surrender. We are still at war."
A few heads nodded grimly.
"Now, Mr Potter here," she continued, gesturing towards the boy, "has some instructions to give us."
She nodded at him, and Harry, clearly uncomfortable, stood up to mutter a tentative, "Right. Yes, well…" before trailing off.
He took a moment to gather himself and tried again.
"Our goal is to find Voldemort's snake. I can't explain exactly why…" he hastened to clarify, as a few lips parted to investigate. "But this is what we must do."
"Why can't you explain?" asked Bill Weasley, somewhat annoyed.
"Because these are the instructions Dumbledore left me before he died," he replied.
Bill did not argue.
"How do we find it?" asked Neville Longbottom.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know."
"The Death Eater you captured didn't tell you anything?" asked George Weasley.
Harry's eyes darted quickly to Severus, who returned the look with a piercing stare.
"He told us something," he replied evasively, "But he doesn't know where it is. He knows that Voldemort is hiding, and that he's hiding the snake."
"Well, then," said a dreamy voice from across the table, "it's a bit like he's defeated, isn't it? He can't do anything if he's forced to stay hidden."
It was Luna Lovegood, a sixth year Ravenclaw.
Harry shook his head. "No. He still controls the Ministry, and we think he's looking for a way to gain even more power."
"How?" asked Tonks.
Harry shook his head again. "I can't tell you."
A displeased murmur rose from the table. Professor McGonagall stood and gestured for silence again.
"We will follow Potter's instructions," she said firmly.
The whispering stopped.
"We will divide into groups. We'll need someone who the Death Eaters can't identify as a member of the Resistance to procure supplies for us. This includes food, bandages and potion ingredients. We're practically out of everything, by the way," she added, looking at Severus.
He nodded gravely.
"We can ask our parents," Cho Chang said. "Not all of them are in the castle, but many are still willing to help."
"Good," Professor McGonagall replied. "We also need someone to keep us informed of the situation at the Ministry of Magic." She shifted her gaze to Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt a few seats away. "Do you think that's possible?"
"Not directly," Kingsley's deep voice replied. "But I do have some contacts."
"What do we do in the meantime? Go home?" asked Seamus Finnigan.
Professor McGonagall looked at him, then her gaze swept over each of those seated around the table with increasing gravity.
"Everyone here has fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters. That means that by leaving the castle, every single person at this table runs the risk of being identified as a member of the Resistance, and thus being arrested or more likely killed," she stated.
She was met by a sudden, paralysed silence and a series of increasingly dreadful glances.
"Fortunately, there is plenty of room for everyone here," she hastened to add.
"What if they attack the school again?" retorted Justin Finch-Fletchley.
"That is not possible. We are protected by an impenetrable Defence Charm," Professor McGonagall reassured him. "In addition, a Fidelius Charm will be placed on the castle so that no one can enter or leave without the Order's permission."
At that, Severus' gaze went to Omegas. She was staring at some undefined point in front of her with such a horrified expression on her face that Tonks came over to ask if she was all right. She barely raised her head and nodded unconvincingly. The other put a hand on her arm and smiled encouragingly, but all it did was make Omegas go even paler and lower her head again.
"Who will be the Secret Keeper?" asked Lupin.
Professor McGonagall looked at him, then turned to Harry. The boy stood up and pointed at Severus without the slightest hesitation.
"Professor Snape."
Everyone's eyes snapped to him. Yet another murmur spread across the table as Severus, trying to maintain a neutral expression, met Harry's determined gaze and nodded slowly.
"Why him?" asked Ginny Weasley, a hint of disgust in her voice.
"Because I trust him," Harry replied curtly.
Ginny gave him a confused and slightly irritated look.
"On that note," Professor McGonagall intervened, "no demonstrations of distrust towards any member of the Order will be tolerated," she said sternly. "It is vital that we stand together. Rely on each other. That includes the newcomers."
She nodded to Draco, who, surprised and a little embarrassed, glanced around the room. Then she turned to Omegas, who seemed increasingly determined to keep her eyes on the table. She didn't seem to notice that everyone's eyes were on her at first, but then, awakened by the sudden silence, she raised her head and looked around with barely concealed discomfort.
"Hey, it's you!" a boy in the middle of the table suddenly exclaimed. "You're the one who moved me when the ceiling collapsed on me! If it wasn't for you, I'd have more than a broken arm!"
Fred Weasley lifted a bandaged arm and gave her a friendly nod, while Mrs Weasley gasped and turned to the woman looking as if she wanted to kiss her.
Omegas looked at them one by one. Instead of responding, she turned to Severus and gave him a look of disgust, which he was quick to interpret as a 'This is all your fault'.
An atmosphere of obvious embarrassment settled over the room, which only dissipated when Professor McGonagall spread her arms across the table again.
"Very well. I trust you will find your usefulness in the castle without further instruction. Make yourself available to Potter. If Potter asks you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. Is that clear?" she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Several heads nodded, most of them decisively, others with quiet reluctance.
"Good," she said finally.
She shot each of them one last stern look, then quickly dismissed them.
Severus waited for the crowd to leave the Great Hall, determined to walk to his office alone and in silence. He watched Lupin and Tonks pass and made sure to turn the other way as they did. Then his eyes followed Harry and Ginny, who seemed to be in deep conversation. Before they crossed the door, the girl turned to him and gave him a look that made it clear what the subject of their discussion was.
Finally, his eyes fell on a small group of people, all with the same bright red hair, talking to a woman with raven curls. The Weasleys had surrounded Omegas. She stood there, frozen in place and clearly uncomfortable. Severus suppressed a smirk.
"Sir?" Draco called.
He turned.
"Can I go back to my dormitory?" the boy asked. "I… need to sleep."
"Of course," he nodded.
Draco got up and walked quickly across the hall and out the door.
Severus lingered for a few seconds, then stood and walked towards the Weasleys. He coughed to signal his presence and everyone turned to look at him. He gave them a few impassive glances and spoke directly to the woman.
"You are capable of brewing decent potions."
Omegas arched an eyebrow and sucked her teeth, as if to emphasise how much of an understatement that was.
"The school's supplies have run out, and the castle is full of mediocre potion-makers," he remarked. He shot a cold glance at Ron, who lowered his gaze. "I think it would be wise to divide the work. Unless you have something better to do."
She looked at him, then at the group of people around her. Her eyes suddenly sparked with excitement.
"I don't."
She quickly dismissed the Weasley family, who bade her a friendly goodbye.
The two of them left the Great Hall. As they did so, Omegas walked so fast that it was hard to keep up with her. They returned to the dungeons and she went straight to her table.
"Thank you," she said tentatively.
Severus nodded. "What exactly happened in there?"
She bowed her head slightly. "I… I'm not good at dealing with…" She hesitated and swallowed audibly.
"Attention?" he deadpanned.
"People," she muttered.
Severus felt the urge to smile—now that was an understatement, he thought—but he suppressed it.
"So… shall we divide the work?" she asked.
Severus studied her face. Omegas had two large, throbbing bags under her eyes, her side was bandaged, and she had a large dressing on her head.
"Tomorrow," he replied.
She frowned, confused and a little disappointed. "Why?"
"Because you need to sleep or you'll never recover."
"Recover from what?" she asked. She didn't sound ironic in the slightest.
He looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow. She suddenly seemed to remember that she had almost died twice in one day.
"Right," she mumbled vaguely. "But McGonagall said—"
"I know what she said," he cut her off. "I trust the school won't collapse if it runs out of potions for one more night."
Omegas seemed about to argue, but met his stern gaze and eventually fell silent. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and an unnatural silence fell between them.
"Well… good night then?" she said uncertainly.
Severus studied her a moment longer. "Good night," he replied.
He turned and walked briskly out of the room.
'Good night' was definitely not the most appropriate thing to say given the circumstances: it was afternoon. As he walked through the dungeons to his office, he noticed that the school seemed to have emptied. Not a fly buzzed about the corridors; no annoying child casting spells on a classmate to annoy them, no indistinct chatter echoing through the castle walls. Even Peeves seemed to have abandoned his mission of using every spare moment to wreak havoc. The school was a ghost of what it had been. If circumstances hadn't been so dramatic, Severus thought, he might have enjoyed the peace.
He entered his office, determined to get to work immediately, but he couldn't. He sat down at his desk and remained silent, motionless, for hours.
He risked never sitting in that chair again, he thought, and every time he had to perform a new action, his brain formulated the same thought. He risked never having to tidy his desk again. He risked never looking at the hundreds of slimy ingredients stored in jars in his cupboards. All afternoon he could do nothing but list all the things he had risked never doing again.
As he made his way to the new hospital wing, now disillusioned with the idea that he would get anything done that day, if only to assess how scarce the potion supplies were, the same realisation that had overwhelmed him that morning hit him like a punch in the stomach. He did not want to die.
The lights were out and the large clock across the room showed midnight. Dozens of injured people were resting, their chests rising and falling under the white sheets. Severus' eyes lingered for a moment on Colin Creevey's bed. The boy was covered up to his head, his chest still, in contrast to the regular breathing of those around him. He was gone.
He turned away quickly, determined not to dwell on the subject of life and death. He had had enough for one day. He made his way to a large cabinet, which he recognised as the one from the small hospital wing a few floors up.
When McGonagall had said "short of everything", she hadn't been exaggerating: the cupboard was practically empty. All the supplies of Anaesthetic Potions, Anti-Bleeding Potions, Skele-Gro, Tonics, Regenerative Potions, Calming Potions and even Sleeping Potions were gone. It would take him months to restock the cupboard.
The faint sound of sheets being torn and a mattress creaking made him turn around. Omegas was awake and had rolled over in bed, her violet eyes glinting in the darkness.
Severus pretended not to notice her. Instead, he approached a bed not far from hers, where a boy lay with a large wound on his left shoulder, mumbling in his sleep. The professor observed him: he had an unmistakable Sectumsempra wound. On the bedside table beside him was a three-quarters empty bottle of Sleeping Draught. He uncorked it, took a spoon and began to feed the injured boy, hoping to stop his painful moans.
Meanwhile, behind him, Omegas continued to toss and turn in her bed, more frequently now, until Severus heard her tear off the sheets and sit on the edge of the mattress with a huff of impatience.
"What are you doing?" he asked, not turning around.
"I was thinking of going to the kitchens," he replied softly. "I'm starving."
Severus turned and corked the bottle. The boy had stopped groaning and fallen into a deep sleep. He lingered on the woman's bandaged side.
Unlike the boy, whose shoulder had only been grazed, Omegas had taken the full brunt of the curse. Yet there she was, cheerfully talking about a midnight snack. He took a few determined steps towards her.
"You can't do that," he said firmly.
She frowned. "Why not?"
"You have a rather serious curse wound. You shouldn't move," he noted.
There was not a hint of worry in his tone. Only quiet reproach and maybe a note of curiosity.
Omegas smiled and looked down at her bandage. "Your concern for my wellbeing is touching, really, but I think I will go and find something to eat anyway."
With that, she placed her hands on the mattress and began to rise.
Severus, his lips curled in an irritated sneer, grabbed his wand and flicked it. The lace of the sheets tightened around Omegas' wrists and ankles, forcing her back onto the bed.
For a moment she looked disoriented. Then a very different smile from her usual flashed across her face. It was a dark grin, somewhat disturbing. She remained silent for a few seconds, motionless, staring at the tight grip of the white fabric around her wrists.
"You're all so obsessed with the comfort of your soldiers," she breathed, her voice suddenly devoid of any emotion. "Half of them make themselves useful if you didn't force them to lie here."
Severus widened his eyes. "These are not soldiers," he spat. "They are students. Many of them have only just come of age. They are not cannon fodder."
The words escaped him in an uncontrollable snarl. He looked around, relieved to see that no one but the woman had heard him.
She suddenly lost her sinister grin and returned to one of her unreadable smiles.
"I see," she whispered.
Severus flicked his wand again and the lace released her wrists.
"You're planning to get out of this bed as soon as you see me disappearing down the corridor, aren't you?" he asked after a moment of bitter silence.
She chuckled softly. "You're quite clever, you know that?"
He shot her a look meant to intimidate, but it seemed to have no effect.
"Good," he said after a long pause. "Then lift your gown."
She raised her eyebrows, surprised and slightly amused. "Excuse me?"
"Your wound needs cleansing and more Dittany," he said firmly. "If you're going to walk around the castle, you'd better do it without risking infection."
There were two reasons that drove him to say those words: the first was that the persistent lack of pain on the woman's face, and the fact that she seemed to have almost forgotten that she was injured, was becoming a mystery that he was increasingly eager to solve. The second, which he tried his best to banish to a dark corner of his mind, was the awareness that it was ultimately his fault that Omegas had been struck by the curse.
She narrowed her eyes and seemed to be studying his face. Then, without a word, she lay on her side and lifted her dress, revealing the now blood-soaked bandage. Severus approached her and began to remove it carefully.
The wound underneath was even worse than he had expected: he had to force himself not to shiver. He took a bottle of Dittany from the bedside table and uncorked it.
"This will hurt."
He poured a few drops of the liquid onto the wound. She made no sound.
"Why don't you use your Phoenix Tears?" he asked as the Dittany seeped into the bloodied folds of her skin and began to smoke.
"No," she replied quietly. "Those are for more serious wounds."
He frowned. "This wound is serious."
"Not serious enough," she stated.
Severus continued to pour the liquid along Omegas' side until it soaked every inch of her wound, which took a surprisingly long time.
"You know, there's one thing I don't understand," he said, grabbing some gauze from the bedside table.
"Hm?" she replied, as if waking from a dream.
"The curse that struck you."
"Yes, I had never seen it before I came here either," she interrupted. "The Death Eaters use it, one of them must have invented it. It's quite good!"
Severus smirked. "No, that's not it."
"Hm?" she repeated.
"I invented the spell," he said nonchalantly.
She turned and looked him in the eye, as he finished the bandage.
"It's not a simple spell to hit a target or knock them out," he explained, barely concealing a hint of immodesty. "Its purpose is to inflict pain. It's designed so that the wounds it causes burn from within. So that every gust of wind, every contact with clothing, every slight movement of the injured part makes you scream in pain."
She stared at him. A strange, eerie light shone in her violet eyes.
"There is a counter spell, of course," he added. "But it works on humans, and you… well, you weren't human when you were struck."
Omegas was silent for a moment, clearly invested in the conversation.
"So?" she asked eventually.
"So…" he murmured. "Why aren't you screaming?"
A peculiar expression appeared on her face. She was obviously intrigued, but at the same time there was a hint of resentment. She bit her lip, seemed to consider not answering the question, and then gave him a vaguely fierce look, but still tinged with a note of her old cunning. Finally, Omegas grabbed the hem of her dress and, instead of lowering it, pulled it up over her ribs.
A multitude of scars, some small and almost invisible, others much larger and milky white, stood out along her abdomen. She rolled over onto her other side, then lay face down on the mattress. Her back was also covered in whitish marks.
Severus' lips parted automatically as he took in the sight. "How—"
"Some I got in battle, but not many," she breathed. "Most of them are my father's work."
His eyes shot to hers in astonishment. Suddenly, the reason for her reluctance to give her full name became clearer. Omegas returned his gaze with stoic impassivity, not a hint of pain, physically or otherwise, to be found in those violet eyes.
"Delightful man, my father. He believed in discipline, and I… well, I was rather undisciplined." She chuckled. "I learned to deal with pain."
For a moment, Severus' mind lost the ability to choose which words to say.
"He… tortured you," he whispered, with far more sympathy than he had intended.
She furrowed her brow and tilted her head slightly. "Yes."
There was a long pause.
"Where is he now?" he asked, regaining his impassivity.
"Dead," she replied with a smile.
"Good."
Severus turned his back on her and walked towards the end of the room. When he reached the door, he stopped and glanced at her from above his shoulder.
"Try not to move for a couple of hours," he commanded, "and when you get up in a few minutes, don't make any sudden movements."
She stifled a laugh and nodded.
As Severus reached the corridor that would lead to his quarters, he heard Omegas creeping down the corridor leading to the kitchens.