Chapter 31 Preview

The following afternoon, a small group of students, mostly Slytherins, and staff members gathered in the cemetery at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The faces of the students were shocked and solemn. The staff members held themselves in stiff dignity. There were to be no long-winded, glowing eulogies, just a sparse memorial service for the caustic Potions professor. The ancient headmaster stood silently, regret etched in the deep lines of his face. A young woman leaned on his arm; tears coursing freely down her cheeks. The deputy headmistress stood at her other side, squeezing the younger woman's hand in the deepest of sympathy. They had inadvertently sent Severus to his death. The very thought of that chilled the older woman to the core.

They deserved so much better out of this world. They deserved to have a life away from Hogwarts, children, a home. And it's our fault they didn't have any of it. McGonagall thought as she wiped at the solitary tear that fell from her own eye. Well not entirely, Peter Pettigrew was responsible for the injury that killed Severus. Callista keeps blaming herself, and she shouldn't. Poppy said there was nothing that could have been done.

Callista released Dumbledore's arm and tried to stand up straight, but she was shaking so badly that her legs threatened to give out on her. She felt as if she was being torn into tiny pieces. Forcing a facade of composure, she looked up and saw six members from the sixth and seventh year N.E.W.T. Potions classes, bearing the green-draped stretcher that carried their professor. The short procession stopped in front of the headmaster, gently lowering their burden. Callista squeezed McGonagall's hand, returning the gesture of consolation. She had strength enough to do this.

Dumbledore stepped forward and began the incantation: "Sileo in pacis, vernula of Lux lucis. Eternus sileo exsisto tribuo unto vos. Vos es licentia ex gravis illae vita. Mai salus quod redemptio exsisto vestri remuneror. Exsisto procul pacis."

The assembled group was silent and respectful, several of them making a gesture of reverence at the end. Dumbledore raised his wand. "Incendio!"

There was a collective intake of breath as the draped figure burst into flames. Callista covered her face with her hands as McGonagall held her close, trying her best to console the younger woman. When the flames died, the remaining ashes swirled into a narrow whirlwind that was drawn into a hollow, gray pillar bearing Severus Snape's name and the dates of his birth and death. The worst was over, and now there was nothing left to do but pick up the pieces and move on.

Draco Malfoy stared in morbid fascination as Professor Hawkins lowered herself to the ground next to the pillar, one hand covering her face and the other tracing the letters of Professor Snape's name with a loving caress. It didn't take much thought to realize that there had been more between the two of them than a shared interest in potions. None of the other teachers were grieving so openly. Well, McGonagall was, but she had been his teacher and colleague. Hawkins, on the other hand, was acting like a distraught widow, and distraught widows often needed to be comforted. There was no telling what she would share once he convinced her that he was also devastated by the loss of Snape. Hawkins was young enough to be worth his while. He remembered his father once, a few years ago back, had spoken of her in glowing terms. Although Draco had to admit that the fact that Snape had more than likely shagged her was very off-putting--what had she seen in that foul, greasy git? But Hawkins could still be a wonderful source of amusement and information – information that would make him more important in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Any information he could coax out of her would give him a chance to prove that he was more than just Lucius Malfoy's spoiled little boy.