Maura stood in the cavernous space of the entrance hall, holding her breath, her senses alert for Professor Snape's presence. She was already reconsidering her impulsive decision to follow him. He had more than likely returned to his quarters for the evening and even if by chance she did find him, what would she say to him? Her time could be better spent preparing for the next day, not trailing after a person who obviously wanted to be left alone.

She walked farther into the hall and as the sounds of mingled laughter and conversation receded, a sudden, weary oath caught her attention. Maura glanced towards her left and caught a glimpse of the edge of Professor Snape's black robes. It didn't appear he had noticed her and she approached as near to him as she dared, trying to walk soundlessly, grateful that she was wearing her soft-soled flats and not her boots.

He was standing at the entrance of a dimly-lit corridor with his head bowed, supporting himself against the wall with one hand, his back turned toward her. He hadn't even been able to walk across the expanse of the entrance hall without requiring a rest, and Maura reached around to unsheathe her diagnostic wand, concern and curiosity overriding her professional ethics. She began to trace a diagnostic pattern in the air, but just as the information began to appear, he made a sudden movement and she shrank back. When she dared look over again, he had disappeared into the corridor. After only a moment's hesitation, she followed.

Her path was illuminated with only a few feebly flickering torches, and she paused outside the faint fall of light, listening intently to his slow, measured footsteps echoing directly ahead of her. As long as he was moving away from her, she was in no danger of being discovered and could try to obtain another reading. She traced the same pattern as before,watching the text and numbers beginning to flow outward from the tip of her wand.

She frowned, flicking her wand to the right to end the reading. She wasn't quite close enough to get an accurate diagnosis, but the elevated temperature and upper respiratory symptoms certainly suggested that he had succumbed to the same flu that had swept through the castle lately. She was concentrating intently as she took another reading, unaware that the footsteps had stopped abruptly until Professor Snape appeared in front of her, his face uplit in the flare of wand light.

Maura shrieked and fell backwards against the dank stone wall, clutching her chest with one hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When at last her heart slowed and she was able to speak again, she lowered her wand and fixed him with an indignant glare.

"What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"I could ask the same of you," he said, his dark eyes malevolent as he shifted his attention to the diagnostic information still shimmering in the air between them. "Certainly you're aware you just violated one of the sacred tenets you swore to uphold as a Healer?" He considered her for a moment. "Or have you also abandoned those along with your formal title, Madam Riley?"

Anger flared within Maura but her retort died on her lips as she studied his face. In the harsh light, the signs of encroaching illness were obvious and he wasn't one she cared to tangle with when he was feeling well, let alone when he was ill and in a foul mood. Perhaps aware of her scrutiny, he lowered his wand, his face becoming shadowed and unreadable once again.

"Well?" he said. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Maura shook her head. She couldn't defend her actions. It was unconscionable what she had done, examining him without permission, but she was unable to stop herself. Something about the man still drew her in, exerted a pull almost beyond her ability to resist, just as it had all those years ago, but she certainly wasn't going to admit it to him.

"I'm sorry," Maura said, pushing herself away from the wall.

"You have no business here, Madam Riley. You should return to the feast before you're missed."

"I'd rather not," she said, surprising herself. "Not until I'm sure you're okay."

He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, an exasperated sigh escaping him. Maura steeled herself for the verbal excoriation she was certain was to follow, but to her surprise, he spoke quietly.

"If that's why you followed me, you've wasted your time," he said. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"Forgive me for saying so, but the reading I just took indicates otherwise."

"The reading you took without my consent," he reminded her, managing to sound imperious even though he was sniffling slightly and his voice was growing hoarse from speech.

"Admittedly," she said. "And I do apologize, but it doesn't change the results."

He narrowed his eyes and then turned abruptly and stalked down the corridor, his indignation obvious to Maura, even from the back.

"You are ill, whether you care to admit it or not," she said, dogging his steps as he continued walking without acknowledging her.

Maura raised her voice to call after him as he entered a chamber at the end of the corridor. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you? It's only the flu..." He closed the door resoundingly in her face before she could complete her sentence.

Maura stood flabbergasted for a moment and then stepped closer to the door, hesitating with her hand on the latch. The rational side of her mind was telling her to leave him alone; she would only be making an awkward situation worse by continuing to force the issue. She knew she had already crossed a line by following him and obtaining an unauthorized reading, but he also seemed to be the stoic type, completely in denial; the type who would refuse to seek care until it was too late. A dose of Pepperup and a good night's sleep would likely put him to rights, but she suspected he would have to be coerced before he would agree to either.

She wrenched the door open, staring into the dark, dank room. There was no fire in the grate, and the faint light spilling in from the corridor only allowed her to make out vague shapes in the gloom. As her eyes adjusted, Maura finally spotted him sitting on a bench, his arms resting on his legs, hands clasped loosely, head bowed and nearly touching his knees, his posture suggesting he was utterly worn down. As she entered, he turned his head towards her and straightened, crossing his arms and tightening his cloak about himself, not quite able to hide the shudder that shook him suddenly.

"You again?" he asked, his voice flat. "Surely you have other matters with which to concern yourself?"

He stood abruptly and Maura suddenly lost her nerve. Was he going to throw her out?

"Any number of horrors could befall the castle without a Healer present to thwart the attacker," he said in a low, dangerous tone as he closed the distance between them. "And that is why you're here, isn't it, Madam Riley?"

And although Maura recognized this tactic, knew it was the the attempt of an intensely private and proud individual to deflect attention from himself with a personal attack, hoping to anger her enough so that she would leave him in peace, his eyes, oddly familiar and unsettling, seemed to bore into hers and she felt her knees turn watery. She edged away from the door, circling away from him, trying to remain on the opposite side of the long, narrow table dividing the room.

"I don't know why I'm here," she said, the truth pulled from her almost against her will. Panic begin to rise up in her chest. If it were happening again, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had followed him willingly down a deserted corridor into a seldom-used staff room and no one would think to look for her here until it was much too late.

Her mind was screaming at her to run, to seek escape somehow, and she took an involuntary step backwards, falling heavily against the table. She became entangled in one of the chairs and collapsed into a heap.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gathering her courage, determined to do what she hadn't been able to last time...resist; fight back while standing on her feet, not cowering on the floor. She scrabbled for her wand, freeing it from where it was trapped underneath her leg, but as her fingers closed over it and she steeled herself to look up at him, she was surprised to see Professor Snape at eye level with her.

"Have you hurt yourself?" he asked. His expression was impatient, but his voice was soft with an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"N-no, I don't think so," she said.

He held out a hand to her and Maura scrambled ungracefully to her feet, trying to avoid looking at him, embarrassed by her overreaction. He hadn't posed a threat to her and there had been no malicious intent behind his harsh words. As Maura opened her mouth to apologize, he wavered suddenly and was forced to grab her by the arms to steady himself. His head was lowered near hers and she could feel the heat emanating from him, could see the pallor of his face and the dark shadows under his eyes. Maura was back on familiar territory now, her previous fear gone, replaced by concern for him, and she took him by the arm.

"You need to sit down," she said firmly, using the same persuasive tone that had served her so well with recalcitrant patients at St. Mungo's. He allowed himself to be guided to a chair near the fireplace and sank heavily into it, folding forward and dropping his head into his hands. Maura felt completely drained herself. The initial rush of adrenaline had passed, leaving her weak and shaky. She pointed her wand toward the grate but found she needed both hands to steady her grip before she could set the logs alight.

"Professor Snape?" she asked hesitantly, noting that he hadn't moved for several minutes.

"Haven't you left yet?" came the tired reply.

"I have Pepperup with me," she said. "If you'd like any."

He glanced up at this and gave her an incredulous look before dropping his head again. Maura watched as a shudder ran through him and she was seized with a sudden and irrational desire to tuck him into a warm bed.

"Some tea might take the chill off," she offered.

When he said nothing, she blew out an exasperated sigh.

“Isn’t there anything at all I can do for you?” she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as helpless as she felt.

"Yes. You can go away."

He was huddled at the edge of the chair and despite the warmth of the fire, was now shivering outright. For all his air of invulnerability, at the moment he looked as miserable and bereft as any of the first-years she had cared for over the past week. Before she even realized what she was doing, she extended her hand and brushed back a strand of hair that was straggling across his face.

He glared at her and she froze, her hand still outstretched. Right. Emphatically not a suffering little first-year.

“Madam Riley?"

They both turned, startled by the sudden voice coming from the doorway.

"I'm not interrupting anything, I trust?”

Dumbledore had entered the room and was staring at the two of them with eyebrows raised. Maura was acutely aware of how the scene must appear to him and she jerked her hand away, her face burning with embarrassment.

"Not at all, Headmaster," she said, trying for a tone of casual indifference, but falling short.

“I must admit," Dumbledore said, walking towards them slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'm quite surprised to see you here. Has someone taken ill?"

Maura glanced at Professor Snape and he shook his head slightly. She heeded the silent appeal that she say nothing and forced an unconcerned smile before she turned back to the Headmaster.

"No sir," she said. "I was, uh, relaying a message." It sounded weak and unconvincing even to her own ears but Dumbledore let it pass unchallenged.

"Then would you please excuse us? Professor Snape and I have some rather urgent business to discuss. I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

"Yes, of course," Maura said, stooping to retrieve her bag from where it had fallen earlier. Professor Snape was watching her impassively from his chair and she smiled at him in an apologetic manner. She hoped for his sake their meeting would be a brief one; his need for rest was so obvious to her it was nearly palpable.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her as she passed, but stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned to him and he murmured, “Would you be so kind as to ask Madam Pomfrey to meet me in my office an hour from now?” Maura nodded her assent and hurried out, eager to leave the humiliating encounter behind her.

When she reached the entrance hall again, she sank down onto a bench in a secluded alcove near the stairs leading to the dungeons. She pressed her head against the bracingly cold stone wall, cringing as she took stock of her evening's activities. In the span of less than thirty minutes, she had accosted Professor Snape in the staff room, annoyed him thoroughly, fallen on her arse in front of him and taken unwanted liberties with his hair.

Maura covered her face with her hands, unsure if the thought was going to provoke laughter or tears, but laughter won out and as much as she tried to control it, she couldn't seem to stop giggling, even when a particularly unladylike snort escaped her. It seemed all the pent-up stress from the last few weeks was bubbling out and she knew if she didn't get control of herself soon, she would start weeping, could feel it close to the surface, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robes.

She would wait, that's all. She would wait until they finished talking, take the Headmaster aside and explain what had happened. Then she would attempt to apologize to Professor Snape and hope he didn't hex her into the next week for what she had done, for the difficult and embarrassing position she had put him in. It was her own fault, she knew. He was a grown man now, and if they had little in common during their school years, they had even less in common now. It was time to leave the past where it belonged.

The few stragglers leaving the feast took no notice of Maura as she sat waiting. When at last the tumult cleared and the hall was empty and silent again, she heard footsteps approaching and the echo of murmured conversation. Maura leaped to her feet. She hadn't considered the possibility that they would leave the chamber together and she had absolutely no desire to face the both of them at the same time. After a moment's hesitation, she descended a few steps on the nearby staircase, realizing her error almost at once. Professor Snape's private quarters were still in the dungeons and in a few moments he would be using those very stairs to return to his room. She would have no choice but to make her way back to the Infirmary through the dank and forbidding maze of corridors below, a prospect that made Maura feel claustrophobic.

But instead of parting near the staircase, the pair continued walking towards the main doors, stopping near the suits of armor flanking the entrance. Maura stopped in her descent, surprised to see that Professor Snape was now wearing a heavy traveling cloak over his robes.

With his left hand, Dumbledore reached out and grasped the younger man's shoulder tightly.

"Severus, are you certain you have to leave tonight?”

“You know I have no choice." His voice sounded weary but resigned.

“Then at least allow me to accompany you to the gates.”

"No," he said with finality. "You shouldn’t be out in this weather...not in your condition.”

"Nor should you, dear boy."

He pulled up the hood of his traveling cloak and stood silently for a moment until a thought seemed to strike him.

“You have a replacement for my lessons tomorrow if necessary?”

“Yes.”

“And someone will look in on my Slytherins while I'm gone?”

“Of course. Please don’t concern yourself with these trifling details, Severus. Concentrate on returning safely to us.”

“Goodnight Headmaster,” he said, stepping outside.

“You’ll see Poppy when you return?” Dumbledore called after him.

Maura moved to the top of the steps, all of her protective instincts coming to the fore, trying to understand what she had just heard. What was the Headmaster thinking, sending him out, tonight of all nights, when he obviously wasn’t well? What could possibly be so urgent?

As if he had read her mind, Dumbledore turned towards Maura. His expression as he looked at her was neither angry nor accusing, but sorrowful, and without quite knowing why, Maura made her way to stand beside him at the entrance doors.

“Can't someone else go with him?” she asked. “Can I?”

“You’re needed here,” Dumbledore said mildly as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

"You do know he's ill?" she said, unable to keep an accusatory tone from her voice.

"Professor Snape doesn't leave tonight at my request," he said. "And it is fortunate he will be in such excellent hands when he returns."

She remembered then what Dumbledore had said as he left. Concentrate on returning safely to us.

"Headmaster?" she asked hesitantly, mindful that she was likely prying into matters that weren't her affair. "Is Professor Snape in danger?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly and did not answer her question. "You won't forget to give Poppy my message?"

Maura nodded. Even as the Headmaster turned to leave, she couldn't take her eyes from the solitary figure slowly trudging from the castle. She stood watching until she could no longer see him through the driving rain.