Thank you, Moonrevel, for beta-ing this story.

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The door to the Transfiguration classroom burst open, revealing a small first year student. His hair was a blond, curly mess hanging in his face.

“Do come in, Mr. Mahoney,” Minerva McGonagall said with an exasperated expression, telling the young boy that she was not amused.

“This is the fifth time you are late since term started, and that was only eight weeks ago.”

She beckoned the still immobile boy by pointing her wand demonstrably to his desk.

“Five points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Mahoney, for being late to class.”

But the boy still refused to move, his blue eyes huge behind the locks of hair.

“Don’t look so shocked, boy; you should be used to the loss of points by now,” the Scottish woman said in a peeved tone.

Young Mr. Mahoney still hadn’t moved from the doorway, and was now visibly shaking, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water.

“Will you please find your seat before I have to deduct more points?”

By now, the whole class was watching their peer with surprise.

Only when the stench of urine filled Minerva’s nostrils did she get worried about the child.

The students closest to him noticed the smell and the puddle of liquid rapidly spreading on the floor and made disgusted noises.

Minerva began to think that something might be seriously wrong and shepherded the small boy into her office after cleaning the boy’s mishap with a wave of her wand.

“Mr. Mahoney. Can you tell me what is wrong?” the usually stern teacher asked the boy.

Tears were beginning to pour from his eyes, and she couldn’t tell whether the boy was crying without making a sound, or if it was a natural reaction to the lack of blinking.

“D-d-d-dead,” he wheezed, staring blankly at the wall, his brain still supplying him with an image inaccessible to his teacher.

“What is dead? Did you see a dead cat?” Minerva questioned with a slightly exasperated yet worried sigh.

“Boy,” the clearly shocked child answered hollowly.

Now Minerva frowned. “Can you show me, Mr. Mahoney?”

Finally, the boy came to life, if only to shake his head in negation.

“Mr. Mahoney, if someone died, you have to show me where. And then I will personally bring you to the Hospital wing,” she tried to soothe the scared child.

Reluctantly, the boy walked out of the classroom.

Once they were in the corridor, he stopped and held out a shaking hand to his teacher.

Whatever little mothering instinct Minerva McGonagall had was now forced to make an appearance, and she took the boy’s hand.

She was leading the child even though she had no idea where they were going, but on a few junctions the boy pulled her hesitantly in a different direction before letting her pull him along again.

Before long, they found themselves in the dungeons in a particularly dark and rather unused corridor.

Then the boy stopped and pointed towards the end of the corridor, refusing to take another step.

“Here, Mr. Mahoney? However did you end up in the Slytherin territory?” Minerva questioned the boy, not expecting an answer.

She let go of the boy’s hand and followed the barely lit corridor. It didn’t actually end but had a staircase at the end.

Minerva stopped with a gasp. There, halfway down the stairs, lay a student. And judging by the barely visible tie, it was a Slytherin student. The size and the blond hair could only belong to one student: Draco Malfoy.

With hasty steps, Minerva flew down the stairs and knelt awkwardly next to the fallen seventh year.

“Mr. Malfoy!” she said, but received no answer. A hesitant touch to the boy’s neck made her lose her balance. The skin was ice-cold.

She leant over the body and saw the glassy, wide open eyes, staring with something akin to shock into nothingness.

xxx

“Mr. Mahoney,” she addressed the frightened boy waiting in the same spot she had left him. “I need to you to help me once more, my child. Please go and fetch Professor Snape. We just passed his office on the way here. Just up the stairs, the third door on the left. Can you do that for me?”

She shook the boy a little and got a jerky move of the angelic-looking head which she accepted as a nod. “Make haste, Mr. Mahoney.”

The boy stumbled away from her, and Minerva magically sealed the corridor so no other unsuspecting student would come upon this grisly sight. Then she entered an old, unused classroom and activated the filthy fireplace.

Using her emergency dash of Floo powder, she stuck her head into the green flames and called for Albus.


xxx


“What do you think happened here, Minerva?” Albus asked his colleague with a heavy frown once he had seen the obviously deceased student.

“I do not know. Mr. Mahoney found the body and stormed into my classroom, utterly shocked. And I thought he had only lost his way, yet again," she lamented.

“Mr. Mahoney? Where is he?” the old wizard asked absentmindedly.

“I sent him to fetch Severus. He should really be back by now.” Then she grimaced. “I told him where to find his rooms. He can’t have been lost yet again, can he?” she half joked.

Poppy interrupted any further musings as she walked towards them. Without a word, she approached the Sytherin still lying on the stairs and waved her wand over him wordlessly.

She shook her head sadly after a while. “Mr. Malfoy is dead. He died of asphyxiation, not from the fall. He died not long ago, ten or twelve hours at the most. You should bring the Aurors in, Albus. This was no accident,” she said with a worried frown.

The other teachers looked equally worried. This was murder. But who wanted to kill Malfoy? Well, many students had the secret wish to pay the nasty boy back what he dished out daily. But no one seemed to actively seek revenge on the talented and dangerous son of a Death Eater.

Then Minerva spoke up. “Where is that boy?”

“Who, Minerva?” asked Poppy.

“Mr. Mahoney. I sent him to fetch Severus. They should have been here by now.”

“I saw Severus’ door was open when I ran down the corridor. I assumed he rushed out to come here.”

Even Albus sighed wearily. “Seal the corridor once more, Minerva. We will call the Aurors. But first, we should find Severus and Mr. Mahoney. The poor child has a horrible penchant for getting lost!”

They left Draco’s body behind to be inspected by Aurors later. They walked in silence, each deep in thought about the dead student they had on their hands and the possible scandal.

Severus Snape’s chamber door was indeed open. That in itself was unusual, to say the least. Severus was known for guarding his privacy ferociously, after all.

“Severus, are you here?” Albus called into the room. But as he received no answer, he stepped into the room, only to find Mr. Mahoney standing by the fireplace, staring at the floor.

As he heard the teachers enter he turned a sickly pale face towards them. Vomit was visible on his chin and his robes. An unintelligible sound reverberated in his throat, before he passed out and crumpled to the floor.

Albus, Minerva and Poppy shot forward to aid the fallen boy and stopped short when they finally noticed what had shocked the boy so deeply.

There, on the hearthrug, hidden by the large sofa, lay two entwined figures. One was clearly the Potions Master, and in his arms he held a bushy-haired female - a student, judging by the clothing.

“Miss Granger?” Minerva croaked, already fearing the worst.

Mr. Mahoney lay forgotten on the floor as the adults rushed forward. Poppy waved her wand over the unmoving couple. And if her movements were more frantic and worried than they had been for Malfoy, no one said a word.

A sudden sob from the nurse had Minerva on her knees, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

Albus stood immobilized, for once clearly out of his depths. “Are they…?” he began, not wanting to say the word.

Poppy’s tear-filled eyes found his, and she nodded.

“But what happened?” he asked.

Poppy smoothed Hermione’s hair back from her face, revealing bloodied and bruised features. Minerva moaned despairingly.

“Miss Granger died from a broken neck. Her visible injuries are consistent with a fall.”

“Say, from a fall down the stairs?” Albus asked, knowing the answer.

Poppy nodded. “And Severus… Severus killed himself,” she croaked, holding up the small vial she found on the floor. “This is a draught designed to kill a person by slowly shutting down their organs. It’s a relatively tame and comfortable way to die,” the nurse mumbled. “I had expected something more dramatic from the boy,” she chuckled weakly before sobbing again.

“Am I right to assume that Miss… Hermione died before him?” Albus asked with a rough voice, showing his distress. Another nod from Poppy was his answer.

Silence descended once more, neither of them commenting on the two dead figures on the floor connected in a loving embrace. Had they been a couple? And how did Draco Malfoy fit in?

“He had been crying,” Minerva said, her voice sounding choked. A gentle finger traced the dried evidence of tears on the cold cheeks of their dead colleague. The water may have dried, but it had left behind salty tracks on the sallow skin.

Quiet sobs wracked her frame, and together the two women cried. Albus didn’t move any closer, knowing he would be blubbering worse than the women if he attempted to step any closer.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop the first tears from falling into his long beard.

“Accio wedding bands,” he called out softly and the woman gasped when two identical rings on silver necklaces, still attached to the entwined couple’s necks, strained towards the Headmaster.

Albus cancelled the spell quickly, not wanting to rip the rings away from their owners.

Now the silver rings sparkled in the waning light of the fire. “How did you know, Albus?” Minerva asked accusingly.

“I didn’t. I merely hoped to find an explanation to their obvious closeness.”

“Married!” Minerva breathed, stroking the man’s black hair. “I had always wished to see…” With a loud, heart-wrenching sob, Minerva got to her feet and stumbled from the room.

Albus let her go, too distraught himself to be giving any comfort. “I will contact the Ministry. They will have to send in some Aurors,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Poppy.

He walked from the room, almost colliding with the doorframe.

Poppy was left with the dead. She was still stroking Hermione’s unruly hair when a small moan made her look up.

“Oh, Mr. Mahoney. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Before picking the poor boy up, she stopped and considered the fire. Something made her relight it, and she smiled weakly as the flames roared and crackled once more, bathing the embracing figures in a comforting light.

Now Poppy could convince herself that the couple in front of the fireplace was enjoying a romantic moment rather than being corpses who would begin to decompose soon.

Finally, she cradled poor Mr. Mahoney in her arms and left the room, leaving the lovers to their rightful peace.