Never Let Go

Professor Severus Snape was awoken at a quarter to two in the morning, by the sounds of someone knocking at his door. He instinctively threw on his robes, tying it tightly across his waist as he ran towards the door. He feared that something horrible had happened. That Dumbledore’s condition had worsened, so when he saw a panic stricken Emilia standing at his door, he felt a wave of relief shoot through him, as well as a wave of annoyance. The youth was most likely there to report harassment, to say that one of the girls in the dorms had enchanted her bed or hexed her when she’d walked in. He readied himself to tell her that whatever was afflicting her could wait until morning, that she would do well to never disturb at those hours again, but before he could even part his lips, she spoke.

“P-p-professor,” she stuttered. “I-I need to see the Headmaster. Can you please take me? I really, r-really need to see him. It’s an emergency.”

“Miss Renner, I am certain that you deem the incessant teasing of your fellow classmates a dire emergency, but know this, it is nothing worth trifling the headmaster for at these hours, nor is it worth waking your Head of House.”

“It’s not about that.” She nearly yelled. “I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t be here if it was about that. I’ve been dealing with that shit on my own.” Fear struck her when she realized she’d cursed at him, but she couldn’t stop talking, she had to get her words out. “I-it’s about him. I found something out about him and I need to talk to him. I need to talk to him right now! A-and you’re gonna take me! You have to take me, please.”

“What is it that you know?” he asked, his annoyance drastically decreasing, while his curiosity took hold of him. “Miss Renner,” he said, after a prolonged silence. “What do you know?”

Emilia shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“I am afraid that if you wish for me to wake the Headmaster at this hour, then you will have to divulge that information.” Snape declared. “Is that understood?”

“I can’t tell you,” she repeated, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes in frustration. “I have to tell Professor Dumbledore f-first and then, if he wants, he can tell you, but I'm not telling you first. I'm not! So just take me. Yeah?” she asked. “Just take me or else I’ll make a big ass scene. I’ll start tipping over the suits of armor that are around his office. I’ll do it! I will! And if you don’t want to get in trouble for not controlling your students, t-then you should just take me.”

“Are you threatening me?” his eyes narrowed in contempt.

“It’s a shitty ass threat, but yeah, I am.”

Snape stared at her in silent contemplation, his eyes studying her face. He knew she was intimidated by him, he could see it in her look. She looked as if she would’ve preferred to have been anywhere else, anywhere at all, so long as she wasn’t in his presence, but yet there she stood. Her head held high as visible tears began to fall from her face. Something was wrong. There was no denying that, and although he would’ve preferred to have given her detention and sent her on her way back to the dungeons, he knew that he couldn’t. Whatever she was hiding was important. He could feel it.

“If I take you to the Headmaster’s office and find out that you have wasted his time, you will have detention for the duration of this term and the next. Is that clear, Miss Renner?”

“It is, Sir.”

“Very well then,” he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, not bothering to change into his usual outfit or bothering to put on his dress shoes. At the present, loafers and pajamas would do.

In silence, she followed him to the Headmaster’s office, trying her best to string a sentence together in her head. She didn’t know how she was going to tell him that Draco was trying to kill him. She didn’t know how she would convince him not to punish Draco for it, but to try to convince Draco that he should turn his back on Voldemort. She didn’t know how she’d do any of it, and the closer they drew to his office, the more frustrated she became. She’d always dreamt of going on adventures, of being brave like her parents had been during the war, but now that it was her turn, now that she was in the thick of it, she didn’t how she felt about it. She didn’t know if she was cut out for it. She was stumbling over her words like a coward, crying in annoyance. Those weren’t things that brave people did. That wasn’t the behavior a member of the Order should have.

“Wait here.” Snape ordered when they reached the large gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the office. “Not a step, understood?”

Emilia nodded.

Snape cast one last stern look at her, making it clear with his gaze that if she were to disobey him, there would be hell to pay. Once he felt his point had been made, he turned to walk towards the portrait of former Headmaster, Armando Dippet. The elderly man in the portrait was startled by Snape’s presence. There were never any visitors at those hours, everyone was meant to be asleep. And as soon as he processed exactly who it was standing there, he knew that something had to have been wrong.

“Professor Snape, might I inquire as to the nature of your visit?” he asked. “It is very late to wake up the Headmaster without just cause.”

“That it is, though I am afraid that I am not well aware of what the actual cause may be. I am here on behalf of a student in my house that has fiercely demanded to see the Headmaster. Apparently, there is something of the upmost importance that she must relay, and she will not speak of it to anyone other than the Headmaster.”

“Have you not thought it possible that she may be exaggerating the –”

“Miss Renner is not exaggerating.” Snape interjected. “The students in my house know better than to trifle with myself or with the Headmaster. Now if you would be so kind as to alert the Headmaster of our presence and inform him that we wish an audience with him.”

“I will inform him, though I do not know if he will see you at this hour.”

With that, Armando Dippet vanished from his frame and traveled to the frame in the Headmaster’s chamber. Dumbledore was fast asleep when Armando appeared in the painting, his heavy snores filled the room, alerting the older wizard that he was in deep sleep. Armando wondered whether or not he should actually wake Dumbledore. Snape hadn’t given him any information. He’d just said that a student wanted to see the Headmaster, and for all he knew, the student would ramble on about the nonsense students tend to think is important. Armando mulled it over for a bit, but eventually, he decided it would be best to inform the Headmaster that he had a visitor.

“Headmaster,” he called to him. “Headmaster, you have visitors.”

Dumbledore was not immediately roused from his slumber. Instead he rolled over onto his belly and buried his wrinkled face deep into the pillow. That happened, a few more times before he finally processed that someone was indeed calling him. His eyes slowly opened and peered out into the dimly lit chamber; he reached over for his wand and uttered an incantation which caused light to appear in the room.

“Dippet?” he said slowly. “What is the matter?”

“You have visitors, Sir.”

“Visitors?” he repeated. “At this hour?” he sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. “And who might those visitors be?”

“Professor Snape and a Miss Renner,” replied Armando. “Though they did not state the purpose of their visit, they simply declared that it was imperative that they have a private audience with you. Should I tell them to return at a more reasonable hour?”

“What? No, no, heavens no. Tell them to enter. Severus knows the password so it’ll be no trouble at all.” Dumbledore through his legs over the edge of the bed and slipped his feat into his loafers. “Tell them I’ll be down directly. Just have to find my robes.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dippet bowed his head and then disappeared back to his rightful portrait. “Professor, the Headmaster will see you both.”

Snape bowed his head in thanks and then turned to Emilia. “Miss Renner, come here.”

As she walked over to him, he muttered the password that would gain them entry to the office. The gargoyle, satisfied with the password, moved out of the way, allowing the pair to climb up the circular staircase. It didn’t matter how many times she’d been there before, she was still in awe of its grandeur, of the simple beauty of the layout. She walked behind Snape, hoping that now something would come to her mind. She needed to be eloquent in her delivery or at the very least, to not sound like an overdramatic teenager.

By the time they reached the main floor of the office, Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, dressed in a magenta robe. It was obvious that he would have rather been in his warm bed. His blue eyes showed that he was in desperate need of sleep, of the peace that only came about during his dreamless slumber.

“Severus, Miss Renner.” He greeted them. “May I ask why this audience was requested?”

“I believe Miss Renner is the only one capable of answering that question.” Snape replied.

“Well then, Miss Renner, what brought you here at this hour?” he asked kindly.

“I . . . I think you should sit down for this.” Emilia managed to say. “It’s not the s-sort of thing that people should be standing up for.”

Dumbledore decided to humor her and took a seat. “I am seated.”

“Good, good,” she muttered to herself. “Okay, here it goes . . . I lied, it’s not gonna go. I don’t how to make it go. I don’t know how to tell you this. I-I'm trying to figure out how to say it, but my minds gone crazy and it just doesn’t want to cooperate. Damn it. Okay, sorry, alright . . . I'm composed. I can do this. I can do this, I can. I know I can.”

“Emilia, perhaps you should take a seat as well.” Dumbledore motioned to the leather chair directly in front of his desk. “It is quite comfortable, I assure you.”

“I should. You’re right.” Emilia sat down and folded her hands on her lap. “I-I found something out tonight. It’s s-something that involves you.”

“Me?”

She nodded.

“And what exactly did you find out, Emilia? Do not be afraid to tell me, I assure you, I do not believe in harming the messenger.” He hoped that a joke would ease her nerves, but instead he saw her grow even tenser.

“Miss Renner, do not waste the Headmaster’s time.” Snape spoke from beside her.

“Severus, my friend, let us not rush her. She will tell us when she is ready and able.”

“I don’t want to waste your time. I really don’t . . . it’s just hard because I’ve got so much going through my head and I want to tell you but I'm afraid of what you’re gonna say, but I have to tell you! I have to!” she felt the tears returning.

“Don’t cry, Emilia, there is no need to.” Dumbledore reassured.

“But there is,” she argued, her hands began to grab at the fabric of her pants. “Professor, I followed Draco Malfoy today.”

“You did?” he leant forwards in his chair.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I f-followed him to this room and he didn’t know I was there. I borrowed Harry’s cloak so Draco didn’t know I was there. And I sat there for hours and I heard him . . . I heard him saying things. Shit. Shit. Shit. Sorry, I curse when I'm nervous.” Her breathing grew more ragged as she grew closer to making her point. “And while I sat there, I heard him say that he had to . . . that Voldemort had charged him with . . . w-with killing you.”

Dumbledore leant back in his chair, his eyes firmly fixed on her distraught face.

“He doesn’t want to do it. Really, he doesn’t. He spent like an hour just going on about how he couldn’t do it, about how it wasn’t right, but then he went on about how Voldemort told him that he’d kill his parents and him if he didn’t do it. So he’s freaking out. He’s really freaking out and I don’t know. I-I didn’t know what do so. So I came here to tell you what was going on because it’s about you. This all about you . . . and I hope you’re not mad that I woke you up, but I just had to tell you. I had to.”

“Emilia,” he said her name soothingly, much like her Nan would. “I am not upset at you for divulging this sensitive information to me. I am, shall we say, intrigued that you were able to find this out on your own.”

“It wasn’t on my own, not really. Harry let me borrow his cloak.”

“Yes, but you were the one that ventured after the young Mr. Malfoy and uncovered that unsettling bit of information.” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Have you told Harry about this? Or Ron, perhaps?” he inquired.

“No, Sir, I came right over. Well, I waited for Draco to be inside the dungeons for awhile and then I started knocking on Professor Snape’s door.”

“Very well, very well,” he murmured to himself. “I believe that information as sensitive as this can not, under any circumstance be relayed or discussed to anyone outside the three of us. Is that clear?”

She nodded. “This is your business, Sir. I’ll tell Harry that I didn’t find out anything about Malfoy and just leave it at that.”

“I am afraid that you can not simply leave it as that, Emilia. Harry may not know of what we are discussing or of Draco is plotting, but you, I am afraid I must ask that you continue to keep tabs on Draco. It would be an invaluable service to myself and to the Order.”

“Then I’ll do it, Sir. I,” she paused before continuing, “I want to be of use to the Order. Nan said I'm crazy for wanting to join, but I feel it’s where I belong. And I know you probably think I don’t deserve to because I couldn’t tell you what I knew right away, but I promise I’ll work on that. I’ll be better at communicating what’s going on and . . . and I want to help. Please just let me be in the Order. I’ll be of age on Christmas Day.”

“I know, Emilia.”

“You know my birthday?” she shot him a puzzled look. “Do you know all the student’s birthdays?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “I am afraid that out of the entire student body, I only know the birthdays of two pupils. One of them, you know is yourself. The other is Harry Potter’s. Both important dates in their, own right,” he added, softly.

“Harry’s is important, but mine is . . . well, I guess it’s important. It’s Christmas, but no one outside my family ever remembers it as my birthday.”

“I remember it as your birthday.” Dumbledore declared. “And I believe, Professor Snape remembers it as well. Isn’t that right, Severus?”

“It is, Sir.” Snape replied.

Emilia glanced back to her head of house, confused as to why the grown men would know her birthday. There was nothing special about her. She wasn’t Harry or anyone famous. She was just a Renner. Yes, her family had money, but she hadn’t established a name for herself. So why did they know? Why were they talking like there was something they knew that she didn’t?

“I'm sorry, but I'm really confused right now. I don’t get why you both know my birthday as my birthday and not Christmas. I don’t get it.” Emilia said. “I'm not anyone special. Well, my Nan says I'm special, but to the world at large, I'm not.”

“I am afraid that I will have to disagree with you on that, Emilia.” Dumbledore leant forwards in his seat. “And I believe it is time you be informed of a certain prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” she scrunched her nose in confusion. “I already know the prophecy about Harry, he’s told me it a few times.”

“No, my dear, this prophecy, although relating to Harry as well, is your prophecy,” the look on her face told him that her mind wasn’t processing the information quickly. “This is your prophecy, Emilia, yours alone.”