It felt as though angry wasps were buzzing in her head, chasing away all coherent thoughts from her mind. An icy numbness was gradually creeping into the blood that coursed through her veins, and all Lauren could do was stare shell-shocked at the Headmaster, who was regarding her with an almost pitiable look.

Her mother – the word felt foreign, referring to this woman that she didn't even know by such a title – had inadvertently done the very thing she had been trying to protect Lauren from. She had conveniently delivered her daughter right to Voldemort's doorstep, gift wrapped in a neatly tied bow and all.

The cruel irony was not lost and Lauren, and she rubbed at the spot between her brows where a massive headache was forming, threatening to pound right out of her skull. How was she supposed to react to this news? How was she supposed to process such information? And the bigger question was, what was she going to do. Lauren had no idea.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose, her nostrils flaring as she slowly exhaled. But breathing exercises would not help her now. The truth was she didn't want to deal with this. She didn't want to face this daunting reality. What she really wanted to do was run as far and as fast as she could and never look back. But she didn't have that luxury. How does one run away from something like this?

"I need a fucking drink," Lauren uttered, dropping her hand to her lap.

"Getting drunk will not solve your problems, Miss Ward."

Lauren levelled Dumbledore with a condescending look that clearly stated she did not appreciate his words of wisdom right now.

"I'd rather get drunk now and face my problems later," she snapped peevishly.

She stood abruptly and stalked towards the window that overlooked the manor grounds beyond. The scene below reflected nothing but a frigid, barren landscape clutched in the icy grips of Winter. Naked silhouette of trees, their skeletal limbs exposed to the cold, stood like decaying carcasses on the snow dusted grounds – a reflection of her inner emotions.

Lauren stood there for the longest while, her thoughts a jumbled and tangled mess.

"How did she do it?" she finally asked.

When Dumbledore did not immediately reply, Lauren turned around to face him, finding him deep in contemplative thought.

It took every ounce of willpower not to scream at him for an answer as she elaborated, "How the hell did Bethany manage to not only transdimensionally transport me from this world to another, but also pull off the time jump? I know magic is powerful and all, and some crazy shit can be done with it, but this...this is just impossible."

"I do not know," came his simple reply, and Lauren could discern the truth in his words. It made her want to scream in pure frustration. She needed answers and she needed them now!

Dumbledore shifted in the armchair, his voice a low rumble as he continued, "There is magic that not even I can comprehend, Miss Ward."

"But you must have some idea of how she did it?"

Dumbledore hesitated and Lauren knew she was right.

"You know something, don't you?"

"I do no know for certain -."

But you've guessed. And usually your guesses are right."

Dumbledore met her gaze and they stared at each other for a few moments, the older wizard contemplating whether to reveal his theory to her or not.

"If I had to wager a guess, I would say that Bethany used Runic magic," he finally declared.

Lauren frowned, not understanding. She had been studying Ancient Runes for a short few months now, and nothing she had learned thus far even hinted that the Runes of Ancient times were this powerful and were capable of doing what he was suggesting.

"You're saying this was made possible by runes?" She failed to mask the disbelief in her voice.

"When Bernie etched that rune on your hand earlier on, he used one that was able to detect whether you were a Muggle-born, a pure-blood, or a half-blood. Under normal circumstances it would have also given a detailed description of your family tree. The rune Bernie used was but a minor one, its magical properties considered trifling and minuscule, though very useful." Dumbledore paused for effect. "Imagine what a more powerful rune used by more powerful witch or wizard could do..."

Lauren stilled, the meaning of his words becoming clear, and suddenly she couldn't help but feel small and insignificant, nothing but a small speck in the grand spectrum of things in this world.

Dumbledore continued, either not noticing the alarming way Lauren had paled, or way choosing to ignore it. "Magic is like time; it flows and ebbs in a continuous stream. Some information gets lost along the way as it progresses forward, being replaced by what others perceive as more important and useful spells. It doesn't mean, however, that the knowledge of the old magic never existed, nor doesn't continue to exist. It is still there, hidden deep in the past and mostly forgotten by the present." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "Runes are not to be disregarded just because others consider them inferior to the more regular spells used nowadays. Runes are immensely powerful and have been around since the beginning of time. They hold a vast fountain of knowledge – ancient and powerful magic whose properties have long since been forgotten or lost over the generations of years." Dumbledore let out a wispy sigh before continuing. "I have no doubt that Bethany called upon such power to transport you to that other world."

"Was she powerful enough to do so?"

Dumbledore shook his head without hesitation. "No. Not even I would be able to do such a thing, and I consider myself quite skilled," he stated modestly.

Lauren leaned back against the ledge of the window, crossing her arms over her chest as her frown became more pronounced. "Who then?"

"I don't know."

Lauren gave a disbelieving snort. "I find that hard to believe."

Dumbledore, used to her rudeness, simply explained, "I've been mulling over this conundrum for quite some time, and anyone who may have been powerful enough to perform such a feat is long since dead, and those with the knowledge are simply not strong enough."

Lauren growled in frustration. "Goddammit, Dumbledore! You're supposed to know everything!"

A small crooked smile graced his lips at her outburst. "I wish that were true, Miss Ward."

Lauren sighed, knowing that he really didn't have the answer to her question, and shifted her stance so that she was now staring back out the window once more. The minutes ticked by, and she finally voiced another question; a question that had been nagging at her since this revelation. "Don't you think that it's coincidental that I was returned to this world just before Voldemort is to return to power?"

"The one thing I have learned in life is that there are no such things as coincidences."

"Yes, I am starting to believe that as well," she muttered, her ire mounting that she was not getting a clear answer from him. She finally turned around to face him, leaning her back against the windowsill as she gripped the ledge on either side of her, and decided to ask another question instead. "Do you think there's any truth to the prophecy?"

"Yes."

Lauren hung her head in defeat. "I was afraid you were going to say that," she grumbled. "Couldn't you tell me sweet little lies."

"I don't think you would appreciate me lying to you, Miss Ward."

"Hasn't stopped you in the past," she retorted. Even though Dumbledore was being forthright with her right now, Lauren sensed that he did not quite trust her. Had never quite trusted her, and had chosen to keep a lot of information from her in the past because of that mistrust. And now she knew the reason was because of whose blood ran in her veins.

Oh, he had stated that she was an innocent child in all of this, and was not to blame for the actions of her parents, but it's hard not be be prejudice when faced with the child of the person you once loved and hated. Just ask Severus Snape every time he looked at Potter.

There was also no doubt in her mind, though, that Dumbledore was the good guy, but Lauren knew in the end she was just a pawn to him. She was under no delusion that he wouldn't hesitate to manipulate her if he thought it would benefit the end cause. She trusted him about as much as he trusted her.

She met his gaze and noted that he was watching her with scrutiny, though he made no remark to her taunt.

"So back to my previous question...don't you think it's coincidental that I was returned to this world just before Voldemort is to return to power?"

Dumbledore, sensing that she would not let up, finally stated, "I think, Miss Ward, that your death has something to do with it."

Lauren blinked. "What?"

"If you had not died..."

"Murdered" she cut corrected dryly.

Dumbledore had the grace to look uncomfortable and finally gave a single nod of his head. "Yes. If you had not been murdered, I suspect that you would have remained in that other world and lived out your existence there as a Muggle. Your death, I think, was the catalyst that returned you here."

"Back where I belong?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Dumbledore was wise enough not to answer her rhetorical question.

"Well lucky for me that Deacon killed me then," she finally ground out, glancing away in disgust. She huffed, her frown deepening. "It still doesn't explain, though, how I was classified as a Muggle when I was returned to this world? It even said so in the school book. And we cannot forget that I was Petrified by the Basilisk..." she trailed off, not really knowing what she was asking.

"This is just a theory," Dumbledore supplied after a few seconds had passed and she did not continue with her rant, "but I would have to surmise that Bethany used a spell to suppress your magic when she sent you away, trying to disguise you as a Muggle. When you were returned back to the world of magic, the spell was lifted and your powers were slowly returned to you over the course of time. You were by all accounts a Muggle when you first came here, with no magical abilities."

Lauren cocked her head to the side, her anger blindsided by her curiosity. "Is it even possible to suppress someone's magic?"

"It can be done, yes."

Silence fell between them like an iron curtain, Lauren trying to process everything she had just learned. She could feel her pounding headache increasing in intensity, but knew they were nowhere near done with this conversation. There was so much more that they needed to tackle.

"Did my fa..." Lauren flinched and instantly corrected herself as she lifted her gaze. "Did Grindelwald know? Did he know what Bethany had done?"

There was a prolonged pause from the wizard sitting across from her as he studied her. Finally he answered. "I believe he eventually did find out the truth, whether Bethany told him or whether he found out from another source I do not know. What I do know is that the Acolyte that overheard the conversation between Bethany and I managed to get word back to Gellert, and six months later - with the help of Abernathy Gellert – he staged a grand escape and fled to Paris, which is where Bethany was rumoured to have been living at the time."

Dread curled in the pit of her stomach. "Did he find her?"

"No. Bethany had received word of his escape and immediately returned to England to join our side in the war. If he had found her and learned of what she had done to you, he would have killed her, this much I am certain of."

"He must have at least searched for me. I doubt a person like Gellert would give up so easily on acquiring a weapon that he could use to win the war." Lauren, the jaded person that she was, harboured no delusions that her father held any paternal feelings towards her.

"He did. For a few months he caused quite a bit of destruction trying to find Bethany and, by extension, you. She must have finally have sent him a message telling him what she had done, for it was around this time that he suddenly changed tactics and decided to focus his attention once more on Credence Barebone. From the accounts that reached my ears, Gellert did seem more cruel and harsh in his actions. I think learning that his daughter had been sent away to a place far beyond his reach unhinged him." Dumbledore paused, his thoughts faraway as he recalled a certain memory. "In our final battle I saw this firsthand. He was not the man I once knew."

Lauren stared at him, noting the undercurrent of hurt in his words. "You make it sound as though he somehow cared for me."

Dumbledore eyed her. "You must have not been shown a lot of love in your life if you instantly dismiss the idea that your real parents might have loved you or, at the very least, cared for you."

Anger flared up within Lauren. How dare he try to spin a story that her real parents had in fact loved her. "No, I suffered a childhood of abuse thanks to my mother's actions!" she spat out. "And I have the scars to prove it!"

Dumbledore grimaced at her words. "Bethany was trying to protect you, Miss Ward."

"By placing me with abusive parents?"

"I don't think she had any control over that -."

Lauren scoffed. Her hands curled to fists by her sides as her hot anger enveloped her, unwilling to be reasoned with. "Try to at least imagine how I feel by learning that my mother sent me away at a few hours old and placed me with two people that would inflict unimaginable abuse on me, an innocent and defenceless child! Now imagine having a father who is no better than Voldemort himself and his only concern is to get his hands on me so that he can use me as the ultimate weapon." Lauren's chest was heaving as her anger overrode all common sense. "Please excuse me if I find it hard to believe that my real parents actually loved me, as you so naively out it," she sneered.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes and Lauren had to turn away. She hated crying. It did no good, she had learned this very early on in life. No one had come to comfort and protect her when she was curled up in a ball sobbing each night. Absolutely no one.

Silence followed in the wake of her outburst. Finally when Dumbledore spoke, his tone was soft and tinged with remorse. "You mother did love you, Lauren. So much so that she made the ultimate sacrifice and gave you up to try and protect you. She thought she was doing the right thing. She thought she was doing what was best for you, even though it would tear her apart. You didn't see the change in her afterwards. Bethany was but a shell of her former self when she joined us. She was never the same and I don't think she ever forgave herself for sending you away." Dumbledore paused before continuing. "I also don't think she had any control over where you were sent, or with whom, otherwise she would never have done it."

A lone tear trickled down Lauren's cheek. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But she just could not fathom how a mother could send her child away into the unknown, with really no guarantee of their safety or happiness.

As though reading her thoughts, Dumbledore stated softly, "A parent, when desperate, will do almost anything to protect their child. Do not judge your mother, Miss Ward."

Lauren wrapped her arms protectively around herself, suddenly feeling chilled. She drew in a shuddering breath, another tear following the other, which she angrily swiped away. She didn't want to talk about this, especially not to Dumbledore.

She abruptly turned her back on him. She tried to rein in her emotions, tried to compose herself, but everything she had just learned was threatening to rip her apart inside out. "It still doesn't make it easier..."

"It's not an easy truth to hear," he said kindly, and she briefly wondered how he could extend to her this kindness knowing who she was. Who her father was. She was the child of the man he once loved. She was a constant reminder of his heartache.

The minutes ticked by punctuated by heavy silence left in the wake of this revelation.

"What do I do?" she finally asked, her voice sound very small. Lauren was out of her depth and she was turning to the only person in this room who could help her.

"For now, nothing."

Lauren slowly turning around to face him, sure she had not heard him correctly.

Dumbledore rose from his armchair and came to stand in front of her, those sharp blue eyes peering down at her from behind his half-moon spectacles as he placed a grandfatherly hand upon her shoulder. "This needs to be kept a secret, Miss Ward. If Voldemort should ever find out about you, and especially your bond and the prophecy involving Severus..." He trailed off. He didn't need to elaborate how bad it would be for both her and Snape.

"So...you don't even want me to tell Severus?"

He shook his head. "Especially not Severus."

Lauren couldn't believe that he wanted her to keep this from Snape. She shrugged abruptly from his grasp. "He has every right to know! This concerns him just as much as me!" she shouted.

"Think about it, Miss Ward," Dumbledore stated patiently. "Severus is going to play the very dangerous and very important role as spy for the Order when war is upon us. He is going to be in close contact with Voldemort on a regular basis. Voldemort is an exceptional Legilimens, and could easily find out about the prophecy should he ever delve into Severus' mind, which I know he has done in the past to extract information from him." Lauren's eyes widened at this revelation. "No, it would be safer for all of us if Professor Snape did not know."

"So you want me to lie to him to keep him safe?" she asked sarcastically.

Dumbledore stared down at her, seeing plainly the incredulous look as well as the anger simmering on her features. Lauren could not believe he was asking such a thing of her.

"To keep everyone safe, you're going to have to, Miss Ward."

He hadn't said it in so much words, but Lauren knew he was referring to Tracey and Draco. Their lives would be in considerable danger by their association with her alone. Voldemort had already used Tracey once before with that whole episode with Quirrell, and it had worked. Lauren had no doubt in her mind that he would not hesitate to use her again, and anyone he thought Lauren cared about to get his hands on her. By any means possible.

Lauren shook her head. "Snape is an accomplished Occlumens. He'll be able to hide this from Voldemort."

"Are you willing to take the risk?"

"You can't keep manipulating people, Dumbledore," she growled. "You can't keep hiding the truth from them! Just look at Harry. He should be told the truth, yet you're going to keep playing games with him!" She flung her arm wide for emphasis.

"Yet you, Miss Ward, a thirty-four year old woman, can barely handle the truth of what you have just learned about yourself. How do you expect a thirteen year old boy to cope with the knowledge that he is going to have to sacrifice himself in the end? That he is going to have to die? Do you really think he is capable of handling the truth right now?"

Lauren screamed in frustration. "You manipulative bastard! We are not your fucking pawns. This is not a game -"

"I am well aware of that, Miss Ward," he stated calmly. "This is most certainly not a game. This is a matter of life and death. More so for some than others. We each have a role to play in this upcoming war, and some will be placed in more danger than others. Especially Severus. Do you really want your foolishness to be the death of all those you care about?"

Her stomach churned and she glanced away, knowing her arguments were becoming weaker, and his becoming more convincing.

"It would be better if Severus never learns the truth," Dumbledore stated more kindly. "Let him focus on his task as a spy instead." He stared down intently at her, though he made no move to touch her again. "Do not place this burden on him, Miss Ward. Do not place him in any more danger than necessary." His tone was imploring.

Lauren swallowed thickly. She did not like the idea of keeping the truth of the prophecy from Severus. But should Voldemort somehow extract that information from his mind, he would do anything to get his hands on the both of them and use their combined power to win the war. And Lauren knew that she would give in and do what he ordered, especially if he threatened to harm those she cared about . Maybe Dumbledore was right. This needed to be kept secret at all cost.

And it wasn't as there was anyone she could really turn to for help with this...

It was right there and then that Lauren realized that she had been masterfully manipulated by the old man, who had used used her love for her friends as a weapon to win this argument. Granted, he had phrased it in a such a way, that she couldn't help but see 'reason' and agree with him. Lauren had been outplayed and she knew she had no choice but to go along with it.

She gave a mute nod of her head.

"I know this is not ideal, but it is for the best," he finished, sensing that he had won.

Lauren remained silent, her anger threatening to explode at any moment.

"I think you should leave," she finally said through ground teeth.

There was a pause. "Do you wish to return to Miss Davis's home?"

"No. Make some excuse for me," she muttered.

"Very well," Dumbledore finally replied, sensing that she was barely holding on the her contained anger. He made his way to the fireplace and soon disappeared in a flash of green.

Lauren closed her eyes, the surge of emotions threatening to explode.

Slowly she opened her eyes and her gaze swept over the room, her temper sudden and hot. Lauren had no knowledge of withdrawing her wand from her sleeve, clutching the smooth wood tightly in her fist. All she was aware of was the powerful magic building up within her, thrumming through her veins with increasing temp, screaming at her to channel and release that all-consuming fury.

She slowly raised her wand, her gaze hard yet unseeing, and then let loose the screams that had been building up inside of her. The magic coursed through her body like a crashing wave, ripped up through her arm and then through her wand. Suddenly the armchair in front of her exploded spectacularly, blasting wood, fabric and stuffing all across the room.

She stared at the destruction she had just caused, and then it was as though something inside her snapped. There was no containing her fury, her anger, her frustration. She fully embraced her magic and the destruction it offered, letting her pitted fury consume her entirely.

Spells and hexes were being fired in rapid succession, and nothing in the room remaining untouched, soon resembling something out of a war zone with smoke and debris scattered everywhere. And still it wasn't enough. She wanted to destroy everything in her path.

And so she did.

Lauren become completely immersed in her rain of destruction, time having little to no bearing to her. All she knew that it wasn't enough. There would never be enough destruction to numb the pain she was feeling inside.

Finally the haze of her fury lifted and Lauren blinked in confusion as she found herself standing in front of a door she had never seen before.

I've never seen this door before...This thought managed to penetrate into her consciousness, and Lauren shook her head, suddenly thinking clearer.

The answer came to her, as though someone was standing beside her and was whispering it in her ear: because it was hidden from you until the time was right.

Lauren's brows furrowed and after a brief moment of hesitation she lifted her hand and turned the doorknob, slowly swinging the door open. Gingerly she stepped inside the room, pausing just beyond the threshold. It was a normal looking bedroom, with a large four poster bed station to one side of the room. A thick white comforter was draped over the bed, the white etched with bright yellow tulips. Matching drapes framed the various windows, and Lauren could imagine in the Summer time bright rays of sun filtering through those windows, cocooning the room in golden warmth.

There was a large fireplace framed by a white mantle set into one part of the wall, and a grand bookcase stuffed with tomes, along with a old fashioned writing desk, were positioned on the other side of the room. A sunflower yellow rug carpeted the floor, the shag material wispy and luxurious looking, offering cushioning softness when one walked upon it.

A subtle scent of lavender that permeated the air, even though there was no sign of any flowers to be seen in this room.

Lauren stepped further into the room, her wand now held loosely in her hand as she studied her surroundings.

Who's room is this?

Lauren noted the door near the bed and made her way to it, turning the handle and letting it swing open. She blinked at the sight of rows upon rows of Victorian style dresses hanging in the walk-in closet, each garment richly designed and tailored to luxurious perfection and high quality.

Her gaze then landed on a black dress with white collar and ruffles at the sleeve and suddenly she was thrown back into the memory of when Bethany had met up with Dumbledore, wearing this exact same outfit.

This is my mother's room.

Lauren hastily backed away and edged around the bed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to escape this room. The room that had belonged to the mother that had abandoned her. A mother who had left her alone and defenceless in the hands of callous abusers.

Then something caught her attention and Lauren stilled. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as her gaze landed on an old fashioned cradle positioned beside the bed, and had been blocked from her view when she had initially entered the room.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord and Lauren slowly edged towards the cradle, pausing in front of it. It was lined with white padding and sheets, an opulent fuzzy soft white blanket folded neatly within. An old fashioned silver rattle had been placed upon the diminutive pillow; a cradle that had never been used and a rattle that had never been used. A lump formed in Lauren's throat as she suddenly realized that this had been her crib and her rattle.

Her gaze slowly flittered over to the bed, a slight indent in the pillow, foretelling that this had been where Bethany had slept. She noted with sudden clarity that the crib had been placed quite close, almost protectively near Bethany's side of the bed.

After all these years she never got rid of the crib...

A sudden movement caught her attention and her gaze landed on a framed black-and-white moving picture that was resting upon the nightstand. Lauren edged closer to get a better view and then froze.

It was a picture of Bethany proudly holding a baby bundled securely in her arms. She was staring down at her newborn daughter, her features alight with an inner joy, a radiance that seemed to burn from within. Bethany glanced up at Lauren and her eyes shimmered with something else. There was an undercurrent of sorrow in that look, and Lauren realized the Bethany, in that picture, knew she was soon going to have to give up her daughter and send her away.

Tears pricked her eyes and Lauren hastily glanced away, her gaze sweeping over the room and coming to rest once more on the crib and rattle. For some reason that rattle seemed to have some symbolic meaning.

Bethany bought that rattle for me. She wanted to keep me...

A lump formed in her throat.

She did love me...

Her knees gave out as exhaustion overcame her, and Lauren sank to the floor, hugging her knees tightly against her chest as a heartbroken sob punctuated the room. Then the tears started flowing freely and she hung her head, resting her forehead against her knees as she gave herself over to her heartbreak. The violent, almost soul crushing sobs overtook her as she started drowning in the sorrow and pain of a life long lost to her – a life she could never get back, nor would never truly know.

And that was the truly heartbreaking truth – she would never know what life with her true mother would have been like, for that opportunity had been lost to the both of them.

Lauren cried herself to sleep on that cold hard floor that night, the outside world barred from the private emotion that she gave herself over to.

A silent black form swooped through the night air, coming to perch on the windowsill. Artemis gazed through the thick glass of the window at the crying girl for a few moments before he launched off, disappearing into the night with a concerned caw.

Lauren awoke, her eyes puffy and her body aching from having slept on the floor all night.

She stiffly pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed tiredly at her face, the events from the previous day flooding her mind.

How much more of this can I take? she wondered morosely.

Then she was suddenly distinctly aware of what had woken her, a nudge at her consciousness, seeking to be let in. She stilled when she recognized the mental signature as belonging to Severus Snape.

I don't know if I can deal with him right now.

The mental nudging became more incessant and Lauren knew he would not let up. He would continue badgering her until she granted him entrance. She sighed, knowing she had no choice, and allowed him in as she pushed herself achingly to her feet.

She numbly made her way to the door and, after glancing back at the room one last time, she closed it behind her, knowing it would be a very long time before she set foot in there again and face the haunted memories of the past.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Lauren made her way dejectedly to the top of the staircase, pausing when she caught sight if Severus Snape standing down below in the middle of the destruction she had caused. He lifted his gaze up towards her and arched a questioning brow, though he made no other remark.

Lauren closed her eyes and steeled herself before opening her eyes and making her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Ignoring him, she stepped over rubble and debris without a word uttered to him. Snape eyed her and then followed wordlessly behind her.

She paused in the doorway, noting that everything had been destroyed, a fine dusting of snow that had blown in through the destroyed window layering the floor.

Snape came to stand beside her and glanced down at her with questioning look, though he did not voice any of the questions that were on the tip of his tongue. Instead he stepped further into the kitchen and set about repairing all the damage she had caused, his brows furrowed in deep concentration, his attention absolute. Lauren watched with detachment as items lifted into the air and whirled around in a lazy funnel before fixing and repairing themselves, like Lego pieces slotting together before being placed in their rightful spots.

Snape lowered his wand and angled his lean body swathed in his usual black robes so that he was now wordlessly looking back at her. Lauren ignored him and made her way to the kettle, proceeding to fill it up with water.

"Tea?" she asked, a raspiness to her tone.

"Please."

Lauren proceeded to prepare a cup of tea for them both, keeping her gaze focused on the task at hand and her back turned to him as she tried to ignore him. But she could feel his eyes on her the whole time, watching her with intensity.

Finally she turned around and headed to the table he was seated at, placing his steaming cup of tea in front of him.

Snape waited until she was seated opposite him before he asked, "What happened?"

"I destroyed the house," she murmured, raising her mug to her lips.

"Obviously," he drawled in his deep tone. "The question is why?"

"I was angry," she hedged with a shrug, taking a sip of the tea, the hot liquid doing little to dispel the icy numbness that had settled deep within her.

"Miss Ward," he warned, growing impatient.

Lauren settled her cup on the table and curled her hands protectively around it. "I can't tell you."

There was a pause as Snape, ever shrewd and observant, stated, "Did Dumbledore told you not to tell me?" Snape had known that she had gone to the Ministry with Dumbledore, and would have put two and two together.

"Yes," she whispered, feeling utterly defeated at how helpless she felt right now.

Snape leaned back fluidly in his chair, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table as he observed her. "Is there anything that happened yesterday that you can tell me?"

Lauren shook her head and then, before she could stop it, a fat tear fell from her eye, trickling down her cheek in a crystalline rivulet. She swiped it away, but another followed in its wake.

Snape watched the tears, his concern growing at the sight.

Lauren tried to compose herself, tried to pretend that everything was alright, but it was all too much.

Then it was as though the dam wall that had been holding back all her hurt, pain and secrets finally broke, and everything that had happened – from the time she had arrived here, to her past and then to what she had learned yesterday – was now too much for her to bear and she couldn't hold it back any longer. She covered her face with her hands as she sobbed.

"I can't tell you...Voldemort will find out...be bad...Dumbledore says...you can't know...I don't know what to do..."

"Miss Ward!"

His sharp command startled Lauren into silence and she dropped her hands to her lap, snapping her mouth shut, but she could not still the free flowing tears.

Snape's frown deepened, his usual mask of indifference having fallen away to show just how unnerved he was at the sight of her cracking.

He silently reached into his pocket and withdrew a white handkerchief, holding it out for her. Lauren took it and mopped at her face, but her tears just would not halt.

"So let me get this straight. You found out something yesterday? Something quite bad by the looks of it."

Lauren gave a nod of her head.

"And Dumbledore has instructed you to not reveal any of this to me?"

Another nod.

Snape remained silent as he processed this and then slowly lifted his cup to his lips, taking a small sip of his tea. He carefully placed his mug back down on the table, his brows furrowed as he became immersed in deep thought.

"Is there a specific reason why he doesn't want you to tell me anything?"

"He...he thinks that if I tell you what I know, Voldemort might somehow get this information from you using Legilimens, and then he will use us to win the war. Then we're all fucked."

"You're referring to our potential bond."

Lauren faltered. She had forgotten just how clever and observant Snape really way. It wouldn't have taken him long to figure things out. Knowing she could not deny it, gave a single nod of her head.

Snape eyed her, his gaze hardening as he made his next statement. "And this is what Dumbledore thinks? That I cannot be trusted with this information, or that I am not capable of hiding it from the Dark Lord?"

Lauren averted her gaze from the hurt she could see plainly on his features.

"Tell me, Miss Ward, with your knowledge of what happens in the future, did I ever let slip any information to the Dark Lord whilst I was a spy?"

Lauren stilled. Snape had managed to keep very important information secret from Voldemort. It was testament to his skill as an Occlumens as well as his ability to act as a spy. Snape did not reveal anything unless he wanted it to be known.

"No," she finally replied, drawing out the word.

Snape stared down his nose at her and finally remarked, "It's obvious that you are not coping. I want you to tell me everything what happened yesterday."

"But -."

"Do you trust me, Miss Ward?"

Lauren stared at Snape. Trust him she did. Without a doubt. But could she really place this burden on his already burdened shoulders? As she looked into the depths of those inky black eyes, she could discern what he was offering: his help. It was a small stepping stone, but Snape was starting to change his mind about helping her.

"Yes," she whispered.

If Snape seemed pleased by her statement he made no show of it, his features a carefully unreadable mask. "Then you can trust that I can keep this secret."

Lauren debated with herself. Could she or more importantly, should she tell him everything. She had been outraged when Dumbledore had told her to keep this from Snape, even though the prophecy had as much to do with him as it did her. But she also knew the risk involved by revealing this truth to him.

But she was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, and she knew she could not carry this burden by herself any longer. She needed to trust that Snape knew what he was doing and could help her.

Lauren drew in a deep breath and then recounted everything back to him, from Bethany and Gellert Grindelwald being her real parents, to the prophecy that had been foretold, to Dumbledore's warning that she keep this to herself. The more she talked the more the building tension that had been squeezing tightly in her chest loosened. She hadn't realized just how badly she had needed someone to talk to.

Snape listened to everything with unnerving silence, his features an impenetrable mask. His eyes, though, became harder when she got to Dumbledore's part.

The silence stretched between them when she had finished, the frown between his brows deep and foretelling that he was processing what she had just told him. But it was the fury pitted in his dark fathomless eyes that scared her. If he were snarling and shouting and ranting, she could have handled that. But his silence was testament as to how very, very angry he was.

Severus Snape was beyond livid.

He slowly rose to his feet and Lauren was well aware of the brewing tension that was projecting from the Potion Master as he turned his back on her. It was practically pummelling against her like buffering waves.

"Severus?" she asked, her voice timid.

At the sound of her voice Snape spun around and Lauren leaned back in her chair at the uncaged fury distorting his pale features.

"I want you to start repairing your house, Miss Ward, and under no circumstances are you to reveal that you have told me anything. Understood?"

Lauren nodded hastily.

"Good. I'll see you in a few days."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a page from your book, Miss Ward, and go and blow up a few things in my house. Then, when I have calmed down and can think rationally, I'll come back and see you. I think it's high time we sort out this mess."

With that curt statement, he exited the room in a billow of black, leaving behind a rather stunned Lauren.