A/N: Perhaps this could be better named Escape – Chapter 39b. It was always part of the timeline for Escape, as soon as I realised where the storyline was going, this jumped up and demanded to be written. However, when it came to where it fits in the timeline. Which is done on a spreadsheet calendar of 1997 in case you're interested, and yes, it is colour coded - It didn't fit, it felt like another thing to delay what is Escape's chapter 40, so I didn't post it. Instead, I skipped right along until I realised that Chapter 42 mentioned it, if rather obliquely. Rather than do the whole flashback thing, which I'm not sure I could write well enough to do it justice, I'm posting it here, as a companion piece, the missing chapter if you like. Chapter 39b - Minerva's Little Adventure.

Minerva wasn't sure how she had forgotten about it, but she had. She'd put the cup into a jar and locked it away in the strongbox once she was sure her copy would pass inspection.

Severus had taken her copy to the Lestranges, he'd rescued Garrick. Narcissa had written to say he was gone, and Minerva had had a sick, tortured man to heal. Then, as she found her feet doing that, Albus had called a meeting in which she had publicly challenged his authority, and the twins had handed out the communication mirrors.

So perhaps she could be forgiven for it slipping her mind then. But surely, after that, she should have remembered? Except of course after that, Remus had announced he had a way to reach Mr Potter and Miss Granger, and after that, Severus had told her Albus was planning on Severus killing him in cold blood. Then Fred and George had turned themselves into wand sellers under the guidance of Garrick. Who was supposed to be dead, but actually hiding from everyone in her home after she had helped Severus save him from his fate in the Malfoy dungeons. Which of course they were keeping secret from the Order, along with all the information Miss Granger and Mr Potter had imparted hidden in the letter. Up to and including the way into the Chamber of Secrets and also the destruction of the Dark Lord's horcruxes Severus, Remus and herself had undertaken.

So maybe she had a good reason for forgetting, her summers had never been so busy. But regardless, the students started back to school in two days' time, and Minerva didn't want it in the castle with them. She also wanted it to be dealt with before they met up with Mr Potter and Miss Granger.

Minerva gathered her things, putting her dragon hide gloves, the box with the cup, and a jar containing the Basilisk fangs into a bag, and left for the second-floor bathroom. Down in the Chamber, she moved the rock fall out of the way and opened the large door on the other side. The movements she was startled to realise, were becoming routine. Striding forward into the chamber, close to where they had destroyed the Diadem, Minerva settled herself onto her knees and placed her bag down on the floor.

Gloves on, she removed the cup from the jar regarding it sadly. Each of the relics housing a horcrux they had destroyed, had been beyond fixing, and another piece of history was about to suffer the same fate. Placing it on the floor, she turned to pull the jar containing the fangs out.

A hissing noise had her head jerking up, eyes shooting to the corpse of the Basilisk. It lay still, unmoving, rotting slowly away. She strained to hear anything in the silence that echoed around her. Nothing. Nothing but the rasp of her breathing. Breathing she noted that was shallower and quicker than it had been. Shaking her head and throwing off the feeling of being watched she turned back to the jar in her hand unscrewing the lid.

The hissing noise came again.

Minerva twisted again to stare at the dead snake and the space behind it leading to the statue, and whatever cavern it guarded. Her eyes and ears both straining for a clue, mentally cursing that they had never explored to ensure the chamber was empty.

A soft eerie laugh came from in front of her, and she quickly twisted back around, eyes once again searching the gloom. Her wand twitched in her hand, sending up more globes of light to hover above her. A slight movement caught her eye, a glimmer of a reflection from the cup as an orb hanging overhead highlighted something. Something moving. Her gaze dropped to the cup in front of her.

Black. Black swirling, something, was gathering in the bottom of the cup, rising up the sides. Just as she thought it would reach the top and spill over it took a hazy gassy form, swirling outwards and upwards.

Fang jar in hand Minerva scrambled up from her knees to her feet. Nothing like this had happened with the other horcruxes, and she watched in sick fascination as the black swirling cloud formed into a tenuous shape, a human shape. A human shape with a face she had only seen on the front cover of the Daily Prophet. Flat, pale, hairless, and notably missing a nose.

"You." The voice that came from the shape of the Dark Lord was menacing, for all that it lacked in depth and volume, coming as if from a great distance.

Minerva swallowed audibly, fear rising rapidly within her. Part of her realised she was alone, trapped in a chamber no one else could access. No one knew where she was and no one would think to look for her until term started. The other part of her was horrifyingly pointing out that if this wasn't bad enough, the last Horcrux manifestation had all but killed Ginny Weasley.

While it seemed they had been incredibly lucky with the last two, their luck had just run out.

"You think to destroy me?" The voice laughed, strangely breathy and punishingly cruel. The form from which it came shook slightly with scornful mirth. The face was recognisable, that which she had seen in print. His form, however, resembled the ethereal nearly-not-there-ness of a Dementor, as it swirled, coalescing and dissolving about the central mass. "You, the widow? Albus' little pet? How do you think to destroy me?"

"You're just a man, you've been stopped before," Minerva said determinedly, her voice trembling, which she couldn't stop, but hated for the display of how terrified she was feeling.

"I am not just a man," the form of the Dark Lord sneered back. "I am more than a man, more than a wizard. I have learnt things that you can't imagine, that your worst nightmares could only aspire to. You will bow before me, you and all your type. Blood traitors. Muggle lovers. Weak. Pathetic. Snivelling. Unworthy of the magic that flows through you. You think you'll be able to stop me? That a half-blood witch like you could be any match for me? You will bow before me Minerva McGonagall, you will grovel. You will beg, and you will plead for your worthless life." The form had grown until it loomed above her, dimming the light cast by her conjured balls.

"No!" she protested, fear making her voice high and faltering. "No! We won't let you."

"We?" It laughed again, hard and cruel, eyes flashing in the murk. "You think that Severus will help you?" It sounded amused as if she were a small child to be humoured. "You think that he is on your side?" The amused tone flickered out as if it had never been, replaced by hissing malevolence which made all her skin try to crawl away and her knees try to buckle. "He is mine! Mine! You think he would side with you? What have you done to gain the loyalty of Severus Snape? I gave him standing. A career, purpose, meaning. Who do you think tells me the Order's plans? Who do you think stands at my right hand? You think his loyalty is so cheaply bought by kindness? Where was that kindness when he was your student? Where was the understanding then? No, you threw him away, and he came to me." The voice had gained volume, the face of the Dark Lord was writ with scorn, and it was focused solely on her.

"No," Minevra cried, helpless to stop the tears falling down her face or the pain in her chest as her actions were laid before her. "He wouldn't!" Unable in the terrifying face of her accuser to form more of an abuttal than flat out denial.

It approached her, gliding forward, becoming more solid, more real, and she took a hurried few steps back trying to keep the distance between them.

"Poor foolish naïve Minerva, can't even see what is in front of you." It taunted as it moved closer. "You are nothing to anybody. Just a hanger-on, a sad old dried up witch, powerless to do anything. Couldn't keep your favourites safe. Couldn't keep the students safe, and you think you can do anything to stop me?" The form surged towards her, and she stumbled, falling in her haste to get away from the lunging mass.

The shock of the fall jolted her, bruising her tailbone, sending shooting pain through her. She clutched the jar in her hand tightly, looking down to see if she'd spilt the contents. The razor sharp fangs glinted back at her, and she remembered why she was there. Why she was there.

Fumbling, her fear and the clumsy gloves making her shake and her fingers numb, she shook a fang out of the jar and grasped it. A glance upwards confirmed that the swirling morass was watching her while continuing to expand out of the cup. She hazily wondered what it was made of, and if it touched her, what it might feel like. Rolling to her knees, she crawled the few steps she'd made it away from the cup before falling.

It started talking again, mocking her still, bringing forth visions of things that haunted her dreams, things she'd told no one. Ignoring it, set on her course of action, she moved closer to the cup until she reached it. The nebulous Dark Lord watched her, sneering down from its height above her.

"What are you doing?" It asked in derision. "Going to take it to the great Albus Dumbledore and ask him to fix it, pretty please?"

"No, I'm stopping you," she said, sitting up on her haunches, not looking up, wanting to hold her nerve. Grasping onto the tatters of her courage, shoring it up with her stubbornness, she determined that if this were the last thing she did, then she'd make it damn well count. "You're wrong, I can protect the students. Severus is my friend, and you'll never take that." Minerva snatched the cup up causing the swirling shape to ripple. Casting a wandless finite on the end of the fang she poured the venom through the swirling black cloud into the bowl of the cup.

The form of the Dark Lord screamed as the other horcrux had, as the venom bubbled and spat eating into the bowl of the cup. Grim satisfaction surged in her, and she defiantly lifted her face, staring at the rippling twisting mass that had taunted her.

It rushed towards her, its arms reaching for her. She ducked her head against the reaching hands, hastily placing the cup on the ground. Bracing the foot with one hand, she stabbed the fang she still held into the bubbling venom and down into the metal.

The cloud hit her, it was cold and slightly damp as if she walked out into a fine Scottish mizzle. The magical backlash threw her to the floor, her head banging sharply. She cried out in pain, and as the dizziness made her vision swim she called out, then the blackness took her.

The now harmless cup, slagged into a melted mass on a footed stem, complete with fang still buried in it, twinkled in the light of the globes still glowing above the fallen witch. It was into that scene that Folly appeared, called by her Mistress. Folly trembled in distress at the fallen form. Working quickly, she scooped up the strewn belongings, placing them carefully back into their respective jars, then the jars back into the bag. That done she grasped the bag and the hand of her unconscious Mistress and vanished with a pop.

Severus was relaxing. Sat in the conservatory of the Malfoy Manor his surroundings were lush and green. Exotic and domestic foliage with carefully tended flowering specimens covering nearly every surface. The table he was sat at supported a pitcher of refreshing lemonade made by the House Elves. The book in his hand was engaging and interesting. It was a moment he was savouring. No demands on his time, no plots to overthrow. No students, no lessons, no marking. In this perfect moment, he could imagine his life was this faultless serenity.

It was into this perfect moment that Folly appeared at his side. The usually calm and collected elf was in a state of high distress, ears flat to her head, eyes wide and fearful, and hands twisting manically.

"Master Snape must come!" she squeaked, reaching for him.

"Folly? What's the matter?" he placed his marker and closed the book, putting it carefully on the table, looking at the elf in concern.

"Master must come!" the elf insisted again holding out her hand.

"Has your houseguest taken a turn for the worse?" Severus didn't think that was likely unless Garrick had taken a fall, his health was nearly as good as it could be, and in any case, Folly wouldn't come for him.

Folly grasped his hand, and he felt the twisting of elf travel. Severus landed in a room he had never been in before. He recognised Minerva's taste in furnishing before his eyes fell on the figure on the bed, and his heart stilled in his chest.

Minerva was laid out on the bed, her skin grey, her eyes closed and he took a moment to assure himself she was breathing. On unconscious feet, he crossed the room and dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. He reached for her hand and noted it was cool and limp.

"What happened?" Severus demanded, his eyes not leaving her face. He reached for his wand not waiting for Folly's response, casting the few diagnostic spells he knew.

"Folly doesn't know!" the elf wailed. "Folly was called, and Mistress was like this!"

"She was here?" Severus asked.

"No." Folly shook her head, blotting the tears that were falling. "Mistress was in the secret place."

Severus looked at the elf trying to understand what she had meant.

"Under the castle," Folly clarified.

"She was in the Chamber of Secrets?" Severus asked. "What the hell was she doing in there?"

Folly opened the bag she'd put at the end of the bed and handed him the jar containing the melted cup. "This was with the Mistress."

"The horcrux did this to her?" Severus asked aghast. He read the output of the spell diagnosis again, her magical level was dangerously low and falling, her body was in shock, and she was still unconscious. Anything else the horcrux might have done he didn't know enough to see it in the reports and certainly wouldn't know how to treat her. She needed a healer. She needed Poppy.

Decision made he turned to the elf. "Return to my lab at the Malfoy Manor, bring me the potion in the blue jar in the supply cupboard and the nutrient potion in the green jar and the healing potion in the red pot. She needs a proper healer, but she needs to be stable before we move her again."

Folly nodded and vanished, returning with the potions he needed moments later. Sitting on the bed he lifted Minerva's limp form, propping her up against his body. Opening her mouth as gently as he could he carefully tipped the potion in the blue jar into her, massaging her throat to help her swallow. He held her to him, clutching at her, bowing his head. Letting his hair fall forward hiding his face as a sharp pain stabbed into his chest, cracking the shell he had built around his heart.

Minerva was his friend; she was the only person he didn't pretend around. The only person who knew him, and she was dangerously close to not regaining consciousness. He'd lost one friend in a moment of pain and anger, that relationship had never recovered, and Lilly's death meant it never would. He wouldn't lose Minerva. He simply couldn't.

He poured the healing potion into her and sat back against the headboard, dragging her up against his chest. He chaffed her upper arms trying to warm her up, Folly brought a blanket and tucked it around her

"Come on Minerva, come back. You can't leave now, the students will be back in two days, and you think we could find a Transfiguration Professor in that time? Who is going to teach the monsters how to turn matches into needles? Have I ever told you that's one of the most pointless things you could teach children by the way? Needles, how many of them do you think even know what to do with a needle other than sticking it into their classmates' arm? And what do I tell Albus? That you were my practice run, ready for his turn?" His hand crept up to her head and stroked over her hair. The greying strands were so similar to the colour of her animagus form. His heart clutched again at the thought of losing her, and he ruthlessly suppressed the rising panic. She would be fine, the potions would work, she'd regain consciousness, and he could take her to the castle to be seen by Poppy.

He recast the diagnostic spell and let his breath out in a large puff as he saw her magical core was no longer falling at the rate it had been. He reached for the blue bottle again and tipped another dose into her mouth. The potion was his own invention, kept on hand for those times that his own magical core was depleted by brewing marathons for both his masters. He couldn't give her any more than two doses, but the first seemed to have halted the downward spiral the horcrux had caused. He hoped the second would bolster her enough to kick start her recovery. He slipped out from underneath her, laying her carefully back down, securing the blanket around her and sat in the chair opposite the bed. She would need the nutrient potion Garrick had been taking to keep her body fuelled as it tried to replenish her magic. He wasn't skilled enough to guarantee he could fully fix what was wrong with her and without her conscious and able to tell him what had happened he dared not move her again.

He made himself comfortable and called Folly over to him from her place at the foot of the bed. Explaining what he had done, and what he was going to do, the elf nodded relieved that her Mistress was being looked after.

The three hours that it took for to open her eyes were some of the worst he had sat through. He left the diagnostic charm floating over her prone form, worried that he might miss something if he cancelled it.

The fear ate at him, the guilt started making inroads on the worry, and the questions continually circled. Why had she gone alone to destroy the cup? Why had the cup not been destroyed earlier? If he'd thought to ask her he could have gone with her, she wouldn't have been alone, and whatever had happened he might have been able to prevent. What had occurred in the Chamber of Secrets? Would waiting until she regained consciousness be better for her or should he have Folly bring Poppy? How would he explain to Poppy what had happened to her? Or how he had access to her home? Or how and why Garrick was in the guest room, and how and why he knew that.

She'd have to go to the castle, St Mungo's would demand full disclosure. Albus preferred the Order members to see Poppy where possible to reduce the number of questions asked. The term was starting in a mere two days, Minerva would be incensed if he caused her to be out of the castle and in the hospital for the first week of the term.

He felt haggard and drawn, sat slumped in the chair, his head propped on the top of the backrest, legs fully outstretched staring unseeing at the ceiling as he waited. A tea tray provided by Folly complete with sandwiches, sat ignored at his elbow. He was brought snapping back to attention by the rustle of fabric. His eyes jumping to the prone form in the bed to the diagnostic readout hovering above it. The readout showed stable levels of magic, low, but stable. Her hand moved slightly against the covers

He was up and across the room dropping to his knees gently reaching for her hand, scanning her face for any sign of consciousness. "Minerva?" he said softly, his voice hoarse. "Minerva? Come on Minerva come back to me."

"Severus?" The weak answer came on the exhale of her breath.

Severus bowed his head to her hand, letting the relief wash over him. The lump in his throat closing it, making him pause a moment or two to swallow it down before lifting his head again. Her eyes were still closed but flickering as she fought to open them. They cracked open, and he met her gaze.

"You unimaginably foolish witch. What the bloody hell do you think you were doing going down there alone?" His voice was soft for all that the words were harsh.

"The horcrux," she croaked. Folly bustled him aside as she held a glass of water with a straw for Minerva to drink, her eyes watchful of her Mistress.

"Thank you, Folly," Minerva said. "Thank you for coming."

"Folly serves," she said simply before vanishing with a pop.

"You need to be moved to the castle," Severus said. He had taken the moments Folly had attended Minerva to gather himself back under control. His Occlumancy holding everything in check but causing his tone to go flat and cold. "I merely stabilised your magical core. Poppy will need to see to the rest."

Minerva nodded tiredly.

"You are going to give me a full accounting as soon as you are well enough," he said to her. She nodded again, losing the battle to keep her eyes open. Carefully, with a tenderness that belayed the coldness of his voice, he gathered her up into his arms. "You can't take us through the wards in your condition, so this is going to have to be done the long way." She sagged against him, and he held her tighter.

Folly appeared with a soft pop and held out her hand in a demanding manner. "Folly can take you to the castle." With no more warning, she grasped his leg and vanished them both.

Severus staggered slightly on the landing, quickly regaining his balance, taking care not to jostle the witch in his arms. Folly had brought them to Minerva's room in the castle, and he carefully laid her on the bed, before withdrawing his wand and sending his doe sailing out of the window to Poppy. He smoothed the sheets down around her, fussing, she opened her eyes to smile weakly at him.

"Thank you, Severus."

"Hush, you need your strength. Whatever it did to you, it's not fixed yet" he chid her. He settled against the wall by the door, waiting for Poppy to arrive, his stance weary but his eyes alert, watching over her.

Sooner than he expected he heard Poppy come through the door to Minerva's rooms. He'd briefly left Minerva's side to crack it ajar allowing her entry when she arrived.

"Severus? Minerva?"

"In here Poppy," he called back. Poppy came bustling into the room, catching sight of Minerva's form on the bed, her step paused for half a beat, and he heard the intake of breath before she continued forward, approaching Minerva.

"Well?" she snapped at him, turning her head to glare at him over her shoulder. Her wand was already out casting diagnostic charms.

He stiffened at the accusation in her words and posture. Clamping down on any wayward thought, he faced the witch, relaxing against the wall he was leaning on, smiling a coolly calculated smile. "How should I know? Aren't you the professional in the room? I merely sent for you."

"I meant what has happened to her? This isn't exhaustion or stress. It's dark magic, and you Severus Snape, would know more about that than I."

"Is it? Well, I can't say I ever expected Minerva to dabble, but I suppose, one never can be too sure these days. I merely found her and sent for medical assistance."

"Poppy." Minerva's weak voice came from the bed. The Mediwitch picked up Minerva's hand patting it, smiling kindly down at her.

"There there, dear. Don't worry, we'll have you fixed up in no time. You'll be leading the new students in as always."

"Thank you, Poppy."

"Nonsense, it's no trouble." She turned back to Severus. "As you have nothing helpful to add, if you'll excuse us I must see to my patient."

Taking that as the dismissal it clearly was, he glanced over the bed one more time assuring himself that she was being tended to. "If you need anything Poppy, one professional to another, do let me know." He walked out the door and paused just out of sight, gathering himself.

"I do not know how you cope with that man." he heard Poppy complain at Minerva

"Severus is completely reliable," Minerva responded.

"Completely reliable to say something awful," Poppy sniffed.

"The truth is sometimes awful Poppy. I count myself lucky he puts up with me."

Severus walked out of the room before he heard any more. He made it to his chambers, dropping into the chair he summoned his whisky and glass. He'd go back later when Poppy was finished when he wouldn't be accused of hurting her. He'd go back and get her to tell him what had happened, and maybe impart of few of those awful truths in respect to what she'd done.