Chapter 35

XXXV.

Snape's flat declaration caused an outburst of noise from the tiers of witnesses. A lot of it consisted of denials, some of it threats, and much of it was expressed in terms of disgust and even vulgarity. Hermione eyed her husband in dismay. That was a bit more of a confession than she'd thought he would make, even accounting for the effect of so much Truth Serum upon his tongue.

Priscilla Philliston banged her gavel several times, before the rest of the watching wizards and witches quieted again. "...Explain your last comment, Mr. Snape."

"It is simple enough, even the Wizengamot should be able to understand," he retorted. "Of those remaining awake and unbound at the moment of final confrontation, only the Dark Lord and I had ever killed anyone. It takes a distinct amount of unpleasant internal fortitude to kill for the first time. After that, it does get easier, albeit not by much. I also had other motivations. The stupid, scarred prat was attempting to kill himself by impaling himself on the Gryffindor sword, a very messy way to die. I was already preparing to cast the Killing Curse upon him, when he tried to impale himself."

"--See?" Harry demanded. "He wanted to kill me!"

"One would think that, blood-bound as you are to my wife, Potter, some of her genetic intelligence would have rubbed off onto you in the last half-year!" Severus sneered, his face slack but his emotions cutting through his words. "I had the existence of Albus in his portrait to help me realize that Muggle CPR was capable of reviving someone struck down with the Killing Curse--a most ironic cure for a wizarding ailment! If I had let you stick that damned sword into your gullet, my wife--your sister--would've gone into a decline of grief! And I remind you, I owed your father my miserable life! Killing you would've brought the weight of that obligation crashing down on my shoulders, killing me in turn!"

"But, if you'd dropped dead," Harry pointed out almost viciously, with the kind of edge in his voice that said he wouldn't have minded that at all, "then you wouldn't have been able to...save me."

Hermione bit her lip against the urge to cry out. Her stupid, idiotic brother was finally on the verge of knocking sense into himself, since nothing she or anyone else had said to him seemed to be making any lasting headway. Clenching her hands into fists in her lap, she listened as Severus replied.

"My hope was that, with Jane and Ronald having studied that CPR pamphlet mere hours before, and with Jane being thoroughly Muggle-born, one of the two would've thought to try the technique upon you!"

"--Hold on," Philliston interrupted. "I'm missing something, here. You said that Mr. Potter was trying to impale himself on the sword?"

"Yes," Severus sneered, his lip curling briefly, though the rest of his face was lax from the Veritaserum. "Apparently it is far more noble to be a self-sacrificing martyr to a cause, when one knows one has to die, than to allow someone else to assist in their requisite suicide!"

"So then how did Harry Potter really die?" Priscilla asked, bewilderment colouring her voice.

"Lord Voldemort objected to my reason for stopping Potter from slaying himself in such a stupidly messy way. He attempted to cast the Killing Curse on my wife, and I Summoned Potter into the path of the Curse to block it from reaching her. I think the indirectness of his death is the reason why the life-debt did not backlash onto me at that point, but I wasn't about to let Jane die--again, a proverbial case of two birds with one stone, because Potter had to die to kill our nemesis.

"When Potter dropped dead, I met my wife over his body, and had her confirm his death via her soul-scanning spell, then instructed her to cast it upon the Dark Lord, who had finally succumbed to the wound Potter had given him. We both witnessed the aura of his soul extinguishing. When it was gone, fulfilling the Prophecy, I commenced CPR upon young Potter. Jane, realizing what I was about, assisted me with the resuscitation half of our efforts as I performed the pulmonary part. That was when the Aurors and the members of the Order of the Phoenix started to arrive."

"He forgot to mention that he'd Stupefied Ron to keep him from interfering," Hermione added. "Severus, Draco and I were therefore the only three direct witnesses to Voldemort's death. Everyone else had been Stupefied."

"How convenient," Scrimgeour scoffed. "Two Death Eaters and a school girl, the only witnesses to the Dark Lord's death!"

"Hellooo, Truth Serum, here!" Hermione retorted, slashing her hand in her husband's direction.

"You haven't taken any!"

"She's exempt, you petrified piece of shite-up-your-arse." More than one person choked at the insult, and the Minister bristled, his face reddening with apoplexy. But Severus Snape wasn't through. "Women who are in their second or later trimesters cannot be administered Veritaserum, without endangering the life and development of their child. She is also correct. She, Draco Malfoy, and I were the only ones awake at the time of the arsehole's most fortunate demise."

"If you want proof that the Dark Lord's reign is at an end, just look at Harry's scar," Hermione interjected, standing and pointing at her brother. "It's always been red in the past, as if it were newly-made, even though it's been sixteen years. But now it's white, faded." She crossed to the chain-bound chair and unbuttoned the black sleeve and white shirt, pushing it up to bare his forearm. "Look at the Dark Mark on Severus' arm--or any of the others who bore it! Nothing but old, pale lines, rather than the burning black of before!

"And before you open your mouth again and insert your foot, Minister, I ask you, where were you when most of the battles of this war were being fought?" Turning, she looked at the others filling the chamber. "Where were you? What were you, and you, and you doing to contribute to Voldemort's downfall? Before you choke on your toes again, I will point out that, aside from the Aurors, only the Order of the Phoenix ever did anything useful towards the war-effort!

"You can sit there on your sanctimonious arses all day long, if you like, but we did something. And because we were willing to do that something, this war is now over! In fact, when it came down to the crunch, the only people who were there at the end were Harry, Ronald, Severus, Draco, and me. Against over sixty Death Eaters, plus Voldemort himself...even though we'd told the Order and the Aurors where and when they needed to be. I'm glad they arrived, but they could've arrived a bit sooner, rather than bickered over the source of their information until they were blue in the face!"

"You expected us to trust a man we'd thought had murdered Albus in cold blood!" a voice called out from the upper tiers. From the rasp of it, Hermione recognized Mad-Eye Moody.

"No, I expected you to trust Ron, Minerva, and me! And that's another thing that Severus Snape did," Hermione continued, looking up at the judges' bench. "He was Voldemort's Secret Keeper. We wouldn't even have been able to get to the snake-faced git without Severus' cooperation! Full cooperation," she repeated, emphasizing that point. "Why would he cooperate, unless he was firmly on our side? He had everything under his control, if he had really been a Death Eater at heart!"

"And yet he joined their ranks, didn't he? Mr. Snape, explain why you joined the Death Eaters," Priscilla ordered him.

"--And why you chose to spy for Albus," Iantha added quickly.

"I joined because I was bullied and tormented by everyone but a select few among the Slytherins, when I went to Hogwarts. Those few befriended me once they realized how smart I was; they wanted to capitalize on my intelligence, and I was grateful enough, I believed their rhetoric about the superiority of the wizarding world, and wizards versus Muggles. My own father was a Muggle who thought he could hack being the husband of a witch...but he couldn't. They constantly got into fights, he distanced himself from me, and then he cheated on her, and she retaliated by cheating on him. So my home life was equally miserable. And my mother, never all that affectionate, was a near-stranger to me once I started attending school.

"When she was made the Defence Mistress, I though my mother and I could get to know each other, but she pushed me away, saying it wasn't proper, that she didn't dare show favouritism," Severus recited. His tone was cold, calm save for a trace of lingering bitterness. "So when I was offered a chance to belong, to join a group that was going to overturn the bullying of others and seize power, I took the chance."

"When was that?" Kenneth St. James enquired.

"January 9th. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but I slipped away with my friends, Apparated to a meeting, and took the Mark."

"Why did you agree to spy?" Madam Marchbanks repeated.

"Because my mother was murdered by Death Eaters. I came to suspect that her lover at the time was a Death Eater, but never knew who it was until recently; I now have reason to suspect Antonin Dolohov. She must have uncovered something about his allegiance, and he most likely killed her to keep her from telling tales.

"But at the time, all I knew was that my mother had been brutally raped, tortured and murdered, and that the Dark Mark flew over my family home...and that the Dark Lord had promised our families would be set up as nobles, above the touch of the rabble comprising the rest of the wizarding world. Having my illusions shattered so brutally, coupled with Albus' frank discussions of what was really happening at the hands of the Death Eaters, made me change sides.

"The price he demanded for the sin of having taken the Dark Mark and then spied upon him at the school was that I should then spy for him."

"Is that all you did, between joining and turning spy?" Marchbanks quizzed him. "Just spied on Dumbledore's movements?"

"Spied, and bullied a few Gryffindors and such, though mostly in secret and I was doing that anyway. But I imagined what I could do to them when Slytherins came to power."

"You didn't have to pick on them, you know!" Harry's voice called out harshly. "And don't say it was because of that trick Sirius pulled on you, with the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack!"

"It wasn't just that, you lumbering, anesthetized brainstem. You saw the memory yourself, when you invaded my Pensieve, and raped my privacy! But you missed the part where your beloved father ripped off my undershorts, baring my genitals for all to see. If that wasn't enough, he was in the middle of shouting a Shrinking Hex when Professor Murphy showed up, stopping him and setting me free. James Potter ruined my chances at having a social life with that humiliation, until my seventh year! Plus that little trick his friend pulled on me, luring me unwittingly into a werewolf's lair. He and Black were always egging each other on! And yet I was the one who ended up owing him a bloody life-debt, for it!"

The silence that followed his growled accusations was an uncomfortable one. Albus spoke, filling the void after a dozen seconds. "...Madam Philliston, could you please tell me exactly what charges Severus is facing? I'm afraid I wasn't here for that part."

Priscilla Philliston cleared her throat, accepting the list that her Assistant Deputy sorted out and handed to her. "...The killing of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Conspiracy to commit said murder. Conspiracy to admit Death Eaters onto the grounds of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic. Evading arrest on two counts. Casting the Unforgivable Killing Curse. Casting the Unforgivable Cruciatus Curse. And direct complicity in the death of Harry James Potter."

"Well, we've established that yes, he did kill me, but it was willingly engaged at my own insistence. And as there are no laws against assisted suicide in the wizarding world, the first two charges will have to be dropped, along with the Killing Curse charge. As for conspiring to admit Death Eaters onto the School grounds...I knew about it beforehand, though not the timing of it. I had some plans laid in place to alert the Order to come to the School's rescue--which they did--but will admit that we were caught off guard as to the abrupt timing of it.

"And I accept full culpability in Severus casting the Unforgivable Cruciatus Curse. I authorized him--and indeed, ordered him, under the auspices of the Fides Oath--to do whatever it took to appear to remain a loyal Death Eater, up to and including the Unforgivables, if he found himself in a position where it was necessary. This same order of whatever-it-took included evading arrest, if things ever came publicly to a head between his guise as my Potions Master, and his disguise as a Death Eater. So again, I am responsible for coercing Severus Snape into committing the actions that he undertook.

"And lastly, we have heard testimony--Prophecy-backed testimony," he emphasized, "that Harry Potter was carrying a piece of Tom Riddle's soul. In order for Riddle to be vanquished and Lord Voldemort to be no more, that piece of soul had to be destroyed. I wish to re-emphasize on his behalf that Severus immediately began the resuscitation of young Mr. Potter-Granger the moment Voldemort was truly and finally dead...and you have heard his testimony that it was already his wish beforehand to revive Harry, despite the hatred he still holds for Harry's father and his father's friends.

"It is a common practice among Healers to stop the heartbeat of the patient for about a minute, essentially killing them, when treating them for an exposure to the poisonous sap of the Venemous Pitcher-plant of the upper slopes of the Hoh Rainforest, over in America. Yet they are not charged with murder for doing so. Because their intent is to shut down the damage incurred by the sap, which reacts to moving blood in the patient, scour it from the body, and then they restart their patients' heart.

"Alas, those particular Healing techniques do not work in the face of the magical residue left in the wake of the Killing Curse," Albus demurred. "But the principle was sound enough for Poppy and I to consider it a worthwhile risk, once Severus came to the two of us with his dilemma from two summers ago. And since it worked with me, Severus was willing to risk it with young Harry.

"Now, all of these charges have been addressed, and negated. As soon as you acknowledge this fact, I will gladly remand myself into the court to stand trial for my own culpability," the former Headmaster finished calmly. "For it was I who orchestrated all of these crimes, and it is therefore I, and I alone, whom am responsible for the consequences thereof."

"...Not just yet, I'm afraid," Philliston countered somberly. "Those were just the major charges. Other questions have arisen which now need answering. Such as the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy. If he was on 'our' side, by the end, why hasn't he turned himself in, just yet?"

Severus snorted. "When are you going to free Terrence Willard? Or Manfred Pattenkins? Alisha Stout? They may have been Slytherins, but they were no more a Death Eater than Albus! And I know. I know all of the Death Eaters! I can even tell you which ones were under the Imperius Curse for real, and which ones were only faking it, both in this war and in the previous go-round!"

That caused a stir. One loud enough that Priscilla banged her gavel. "--Why didn't you tell us this before, when you were last brought before the Wizengamot?"

The hint of rolling eyes in his tone was palatable, though his actual eyelids remained shut. "We just finished telling you that I was under magically bound orders to do nothing beyond what Albus bid me to do or say. I only told the Wizengamot as much as he commanded that I should, and no more."

"But, you were tested under Veritaserum, last time! How is that possible?"

"For one, the Unspeakable Vow is capable of acting as a very specific form of antidote. For another, I didn't know all of the Death Eaters' identities, the first time around! It was only after I killed Albus that I was raised to right-hand-man in status. Stuck as I was in Riddle Manor, having to attend the Dark Lord as well as keep out of sight as a wanted man and as the Dark Lord's Secret Keeper, I had plenty of opportunity to see everyone who came and went for most of the last year-plus."

"Recite that list of known Death Eaters, please."

Hermione twisted her hands together in her lap. If any of those people were here in the courtroom... Sigurd, she thought very strongly as she touched her thumb to the band of scaled gold girding her flesh, protect Severus! At the expense of my own life, if need be! She thought her ring felt a little warmer than usual, but didn't see any visible changes in its appearance. But before Severus could speak, a witch stood up from her seat on the third tier, interrupting him.

"--I'll 'out' myself, thank you very much! I'm Sarah Jennings, Unspeakable, and I was under the Imperius Curse. I'm...I'm the one who cast those hexes on Percy Weasley."

"Is this true, Mr. Snape?" Priscilla asked him.

"Yes, she was a Death Eater, and yes, she was under the Imperius Curse," Severus agreed.

"...I was under the Imperius Curse, too!" That came from another witch, a veiled, pale-skinned brunette who looked vaguely familiar to Hermione.

Severus snorted. "No, you were not, Cissy!"

"I--I beg your pardon? I'm Mary Pilsington-Gentry!" the witch quickly protested.

"You're Narcissa Black. I'd know your voice anywhere! The only thing you regretted was embroiling your precious son in the Dark Lord's schemes. Even so, you didn't go to the Aurors, or to Dumbledore for help. You came to me. A fellow Death Eater. You didn't want the scheme to kill Albus stopped. You just wanted your son to not get caught!"

"Severus--please!" she called out as two of the bailiffs converged on her seat in the fifth tier ringing the courtroom.

"You choose your bed long ago, Narcissa," he dismissed coldly. "Satin sheets, embroidered with the Malfoy crest!"

The bailiffs grabbed her arms. One of them waved his wand over her body, scanning her for glamours. Something at her throat glowed, and he unclasped a necklace with a carved stone pendant. Colour drained out of her hair and back into her skin, returning her to a lightly tanned, golden-haired witch. It was a variation, Hermione realized, of the same pendant-glamour that Severus had used in his Russel-disguise.

"Severus!"

His face twisted slightly, and if he'd had full control of his muscles, Hermione suspected it would've been a rictus of rage, maybe even grief, as he shouted, "Lie in it until you rot! "

Marchbanks picked up the gavel, banging it sharply on the bench as the bailiffs carried the struggling witch out of the courtroom.

"Back to the list of Death Eaters, if you please--and this time, Mr. Snape, indicate if you knew whether they were under the Imperius Curse, or were coerced by other means, such as blackmail or bribery, or if they were willing followers or even full believers in the Dark Lord's party-line--and go slowly, so the court scribes can keep up." Her gaze, framed by wrinkled skin, was still hard enough to pin the whole room. "And if you're a Death Eater in disguise, or a former one, whether willing or not, if you surrender peacefully at this time, the Wizengamot will grant you some leniency when considering the weight and length of your crimes.

"You will all be tested under Veritaserum. There'll be no mob-driven railroading while I'm a member of this bench!" Another bang of the gavel, and she looked pointedly at the defendant. "Well, Mr. Snape? Begin your list!"

Hermione discreetly conjured a pitcher of water and a glass. Pouring herself some, she sipped at the liquid, waiting. When Severus' voice faltered after the twentieth Death Eater, she approached him, shushing his protests and feeding him some of the liquid. One of the bailiffs shifted forward to stop her, but a hard look from her brown eyes stopped him. She moistened Severus' mouth twice more during his recital, glad the bailiff had backed down.

One by one, as Severus spoke, roughly a dozen former Death Eaters rose when they were named, and allowed themselves to be taken into custody. Hermione memorized who they were. She was still just as incensed over Stan Shunpike's unlawful imprisonment as her blood-brother. Though she'd given up trying to free house-elves--most of whom didn't want to be free, she had been forced to acknowledge--she had not given up on campaigning for better treatment of them. Fair trials for everyone was now also on her List Of Causes To Champion.

Only one person resisted arrest. Dolores Umbridge. In fact, she attempted to Apparate out of the chamber, then tried to craft herself a Portkey even as the purple-clad witches on either side of her grabbed for her wand, stopping her. Hermione nearly bit through her lip, stifling the urge to shout, "Yesss! " as the plump toad-woman was stripped of her Wizengamot status, spell-bound hand and foot, and levitated out of the room like a pink-sweatered blimp. For a moment, Hermione wondered if the sight before them was anything like Harry had seen when he'd accidentally inflated his Aunt Marge with a bit of uncontrolled--but highly deserved--magic.

"...And Bellis Morgan, who attempted to join the Death Eaters on the night of the Dark Lord's demise, and whom was responsible for the attack on my in-laws, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I think he was joining with enthusiasm, originally--Antonin knows how to pick out the sadistic psychotics from the usual sort of lowlifes. But after his punishment for threatening my position as their son-in-law--which would've called my position as a disguised spy among the Order into question--I don't think he was quite as willing as before. But he still was willing, and he acted on his own impulse when he chose the Grangers as his would-be victims."

A voice spoke up from the lowest tier. It belonged to Harry, who had folded his arms across his chest as he perched on his stack of books and papers. But he wasn't glaring at Snape. Instead, he was glaring at the Wizengamot, and at Minister Scrimgeour. "...Is that all of the Death Eaters, Snape? Not just the ones that you could identify?"

"That was all of them, from the time I first joined all the way through to now. Those that are still alive and on the loose or in Ministry captivity," Severus confirmed. "Once I became Voldemort's right-hand man, and was living most of my time in his stronghold, I was able to see and learn the names of everyone who was accounted a Death Eater."

"Then you would be able to say for certain if someone was not a Death Eater?"

"There is the faintest, slightest chance that someone could be one without my knowing it...but I even knew who most of the spies among the Ministry were, though Voldemort was careful about keeping those secret."

"So then you could say with near-absolute certainty that Stan Shunpike, former conductor for the Knight Bus...is not a Death Eater?"

"Stan Shunpike is not a Death Eater. He is instead a home-educated yokel with far fewer brain-cells than an unholy mating of Neville Longbottom, Vincent Goyle, and a Hufflepuff-bred Squib. Had he even applied to be a Death Eater, he would have most likely been killed for the insult of it. As were Hildegard Johnston and Boris Dubnjachek, both of whom had a few more neurons to share than that idiotic conductor."

"...Perhaps the Ministry, now that it has been enlightened," Hermione stated carefully, letting the edge in her tone cut through the murmurs rustling around the room, "should release poor Mr. Shunpike...and pay him remunerations for the damage to his reputation, his employment, and the loss of his wages, his friends and family, and access to his home."

Scrimgeour started to protest, but Harry cut him off just as sharply as his blood-sister. "--I think that's more than fair, considering that Stan's civil rights have been violated for nearly two years--don't even bother!" Harry disparaged, wrinkling his nose at the lion-haired wizard, who was sputtering. "You said the wizarding community needed to feel as if the Ministry was doing something about all those Death Eater attacks, but all you did was lock up at least one innocent man--and Merlin alone knows how many others! And you were given the knowledge of who was doing something, and what they were doing, about the war.

"If you hadn't had your head wedged up your politically-cushioned arse, we could've ended all of this a lot sooner!"

"Language, Mr. Potter-Granger," Priscilla chided him firmly.

"Sorry, Madam," Harry apologized. For a moment, his gaze met Hermione's. Then his cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, avoiding her eyes.

Hermione turned back to her husband and gave him a last sip of water, then offered some to Albus. She had to hold the cup for him; Veritaserum had rendered his muscles too lax to hold anything safely, though at least he was free to help guide the cup to his lips. Retreating to her seat, she settled and waited for the next phase of the trial.

St. James cleared his throat. "How many people have you killed in your lifetime, Mr. Snape? Not including the deaths of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter-Granger."

"Seven."

A ripple ran around the room. Hermione cleared her throat of the tightness that had seized it. "Describe why you did each one, and its circumstance."

"Two were attacks on fellow Death Eaters; I had the opportunity to stab them in the back while their guard was down, and arranged matters to look as if they'd been caught in a wizarding duel. The other five were brutal mercy killings of Death Eater victims."

"--'Brutal' mercy killings?" Marchbanks questioned.

"I used hexes to brutalize the bodies, mostly after the killing blow. I would also dissect the bodies of other victims and take away pieces, claiming they were needed for Dark Potions."

That roused consternation from the witnesses in the room. Priscilla's grey eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. "Why ever would you do such a reprehensible thing?"

"To disguise myself among the others. I didn't care for rape, preferred not to kill, but had to make myself into just as much of a monster as the rest of them. Carving up cadavers and making off with the pieces was the least heinous crime I could think, yet one of the most gruesome."

"What did you do with the...er...remains you had harvested?" the Healer from the beginning of the trial asked, the one who had asked about the Eiterubrenner Salve.

"I cremated them, for the most part, as soon as I could guarantee I was alone and unobserved. Unfortunately, twice I had to use...bits...in actual Dark Potions. One of which was a bit of blood preserved from when Potter was kidnapped at the end of his fourth year. That potion caused his life-force to sustain the Dark Lord's, at the end. At the time, I didn't know what the potion was for, and wasn't in a position to hesitate over making it, let alone refuse."

"And did you enjoy it?" Harry asked him. Hermione could've smacked him for being so hard on her husband, but she clung to her faith in Severus' better nature.

"Not particularly. Most of the time I was trying not to vomit on my victims. But I did pretend otherwise. I was under orders to 'fit in', whether I wanted to or not."

The three judges behind the bench swayed together for a whispered conversation, then Philliston cleared her throat. "Where is Draco Malfoy?"

"In a Secret Kept location," Severus revealed flatly.

"Who is the Secret Keeper for that location?"

"Draco Malfoy." A huffing sound that could've been a sardonic laugh escaped him. "So you'll not be able to drag him off to your dungeons to have his rights violated like you did everyone else, up until now."

"Up until now, Severus," Albus emphasized. "But now that they have heard the truth, they will exonerate you for all that you've done, and set you free. And now that the truth is in the hands of the whole wizarding world, you'll be hailed as one of the greatest heroes of this war--"

"Bullshite! " The vulgarity all but exploded from Severus Snape's lips. It was loud and harsh enough that Hermione wasn't the only person who jumped in their seat. "They're not going to exonerate me! They're going to revile and crucify me! Pretend all you want, Albus; it won't matter what you think of me! It only matters what the mindless mob of social opinion thinks! In these people's eyes, I am a man who joined the Death Eaters, and committed numerous crimes among their band! I have tortured and killed, and even desecrated the dead!

"Yes, I even had the gall to do this while teaching their precious children, while they went about their precious, self-centered lives, picking their nostrils and pretending that they're so much better than me because they didn't have the guts to do shite about this war. Oh, protect me! I'm helpless! ...even though they're all big prats with wands and magic to defend themselves," he sneered, his facial muscle twitching in the effort to match the scorn and loathing in his voice. "And now they sit there on their sanctimonious arses around me, looking down their self-righteous noses at me, judging me! They didn't do what I did--they didn't have the bollocks to do what I did! And yet they think they're superior to me..."

His head lolled, his eyes cracking open with a struggle. Dark irises stared blearily into the stands. He aimed his gaze towards the Minister of Magic, and curled his lip with some effort.

"But these arse-wipes don't want to hear that. They want to pretend that they're good and kind, fair and just." If words were venom, his were poison shaped like lemon-sherberts, sour-sweet, hard and brittle, yet crumbling under pressure. "If they can imprison some poor, witless sod and rape him of his legal rights for nearly two bloody years just because of a rumor, how much more of a prize am I, the genuine article?

"Who cares that I was under spell-enforced orders?" he disparaged. If he'd been free, Hermione suspected he would've slashed his hand through the air in emphasis. "It wasn't the Imperius Curse! I didn't have to do it! I could've picked my nose like the rest of this hypocritical lot, and whinged about how scared I was, rather than being braver than a fucking Gryffindor for actually doing something about our predicament!"

She flinched at the vehemence in his words, but at least she knew she could take comfort in having played a major role in bringing the war with Voldemort to a close. More than three-quarters of the room were neither Order members nor Aurors. And the Order Members, at least, were perfectly ordinary wizards and witches, just like the rest of the room...only they'd had the courage to do something about their predicament. The rest hadn't, and deserved to hear whatever her understandably bitter husband had to say. If not quite in the way he was saying it.

"I could've wanked myself in my superiority at being morally normal, rather than clinging more fiercely than a Hufflepuff in my loyalty to a man that none of these sheep in wizards' robes are fit to look upon, and following his vision of how to win the war they all cowered from! And I could've wiped my arse with The Daily Prophet and its Ministry-spun lies, like nearly everyone else in this chamber, rather than thinking for myself like a Ravenclaw, and using those same wits to stay alive in a position so perilous, one wrong look would've gotten me killed, time and again over the last two decades!

"But no," he sneered, lolling his head the other way, his eyes rolled halfway up under their heavy, drugged lids. "I'm a Slytherin. I had the ambition to try and haul myself out of the misery and suffering that everyone else heaped upon me...and for one childhood mistake, I am to be vilified, and sneered at, and spat upon by a mob of idiotic ingrates who think they've earned the right to be morally superior to me!"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice snapped, cutting through the younger wizard's diatribe. "If you would just give them a chance--"

"--Like the chance they gave me the last time I was here?" he scoffed. Severus twisted his head as well as his face, glaring at his former colleague. "I gave them my testimony, at your order; I gave them names, and places, and thought that I'd get recognition for my efforts, and acknowledgement for the danger I was in! Every time that snake-faced bastard punished me with Cruciatus, every time he cut me and burned me and then healed me, only to cut me and burn me again for my failings, I clung to the thought of the way people would treat me, once they knew what I'd done! That I'd be respected for my sacrifices, and given the place of honor my sufferings should have earned.

"But what did they do to me socially, Albus?" he demanded, twisting against his bonds. "Tell everyone what they did to me! Remind them of what they are!"

Under the effects of Veritaserum, Albus was forced to respond with too much candor. "They reviled you. They pushed you away, they looked down upon you, and if I hadn't been able to guarantee you a position at Hogwarts, I knew they were going to blacklist you from a respectable career."

"Exactly! " The exclamation rang off the rafters, far overhead. "I found the last of my illusions shattering with that little revelation. I knew that if I continued to spy for you, I'd only suffer even worse at their prejudiced, hypocritical hands! But you know what? I'm ready for them. I've known all along that if I survived the war, and Voldemort lost, I'd be tossed to the wolves and torn to pieces for the amusement of the wizarding world. That I would have suffered untold years more of being a social pariah for doing the right thing, simply because it was the wrong thing in their eyes, and god alone knew what I'd have to suffer when Voldemort returned. And yet I went back."

His words were like watching a proverbial train-wreck. No one protested and no one moved as the truth, the unvarnished truth spilled from Severus Snape's lips. Hermione tasted something salty-metallic, and realized she'd bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood. That wasn't what made her eyes prickle with tears, though.

"...You're only wasting your breath, Albus. They don't have the capacity to forgive me for what I've done. It doesn't matter that I have paid literally in blood and tears to protect them, time and again. They can only see me with short-sighted, narrow-minded vision." His eyes closed again, his features slackening, dropping the struggle to show his hatred with his face as well as his voice. This time, though, it was from an exhaustion that matched his tone. "I am Severus Snape, Bastard Traitor, and the murderer of Albus fucking Dumbledore. I deserve to die...and frankly, I'm rather tired of living, so if you'd just get on with it, I'd thank you for it.

"Bring on the Dementors. I'm sure they'll behave themselves for you, once they've supped away my soul."

Silence followed his words. The kind with a terrible, shame-riddled, guilt-laden weight to it. One voice broke that silence. An unexpected voice. Hermione twisted her head, peering up at Ron as he stood.

"...Is that it? That's your big speech? 'I've labored and suffered, and all I've got to look forward to now is an ugly death, so bring it on'?" Ron demanded, incredulity colouring his words. "What about your wife? Doesn't she mean anything to you?"

Hermione held her breath as that dark head lolled her way. She wasn't the only one waiting for his answer; she could all but feel the weight of Harry's glower behind her back. Felt the quivering of Dicto-Quills waiting for his answer. His dark gaze met hers, dull from the drug in his veins, his face pale and sheened with sweat, slightly mottled.

"She is my goddess. The last good thing in my life... I would give her everything...the moon, the stars, the sun...the world itself, if I could...but these self-centered bastards don't give a damn about what I want. No one else does, save for Jane and Albus."

"Severus..." Hermione murmured, staring at him, mind numb from her swirling emotions. Grief at his self-loathing, elation at his feelings for her, embarrassment that her husband, such a private man, was stripping himself so awfully bare under the effects of the Veritaserum in his veins.

His eyelids dipped, then struggled upward again, his face growing visibly blotchy. Greenish, even. "Promise me...promise you won't take off my ring. I don't want you unprotected...I don't want..."

"He's going into Serum Shock!"

Hermione jerked at the exclamation; it came from Horace Slughorn, her former Potions professor. She peered at her husband, whose face was indeed mottling with greenish spots. Slughorn rapped out a name, a summoning command, and a house-elf clad in a Hogwarts tea-towel appeared in the witness stands. He ordered it to fetch the antidote, but Hermione couldn't really process the words. Veritaserum Shock was serious. If the blotches progressed from green to blue, Severus' brain would be increasingly at risk for damage; if the spots on his face turned purple, indelible harm could result. And the larger the dose, the faster the colour-change occurred.

A large bulk hustled past her, pulling her out of her seat by sheer force of anxiety. Thankfully, the house-elf cracked into existence next to the balding instructor mere seconds after he reached Severus' side, handing over a tiny bottle no bigger than the one in her pocket. Prying at the younger wizard's eyelids, Slughorn checked his condition, then uncorked the bottle.

"Open his mouth," Slughorn instructed her.

Hermione hurried to comply, tipping back her husband's head. Fingers on his jaw coaxed his mouth open. A careful tip of the vial, and five drops fell into his mouth. Slughorn righted the bottle and waited. Hermione tried not fret, but those greenish spots seemed to be turning ever so slightly teal...but they started to fade, and she sighed in relief.

Slughorn eyed the younger wizard. "If he hadn't overdosed in the first minute of being poisoned, he shouldn't have overdosed now." Frowning, he slid his gaze down to the nearly-dry spot on Snape's frock-coat. "Of course...the potion soaked through his clothes, after he spit it out! It's a skin-contact potion, as well as an ingestible one. It just works fastest when placed on the tongue. Use your wand, Miss Gr...Madam Snape," the portly wizard corrected himself with a flush, "and Scourgify his robes, will you?"

Grateful for the antidote he had summoned, Hermione did as she was bid, drawing her wand and cleansing Severus' chest.

"Mrs. Snape...how did you get in here with that wand unchecked?" Priscilla Philliston asked her as Slughorn checked Severus' pupils again.

"Portkey. I only Vowed Severus would come here wandless. I never swore that I would." Hermione held Severus' mouth open again as Slughorn administered two more drops. "And it has been rather handy in helping you keep control of this courtroom, so kindly keep any hypocrisies on the subject to yourself."

Strangely, that made Severus smile. His eyes were mere slits, but he smiled at her as the last faint tinge of green vanished from his skin. "That's my Jane... Claws like a lioness..."

It was a rather Russel-ish smile, yet not in the same sense as the easy charm he'd adopted when wearing that persona. It was...warmer than that. His gaze slipped down her cheek to her mouth, and a slight frown pinched his brow.

"You hurt yourself..."

"Two more drops, I think," Slughorn asserted, and Hermione coaxed his mouth open. Severus wrinkled his nose, smacking his lips a little at the taste. He rolled his head away from both of them.

"...No more. If they cannot handle the truth, I'll not be the only one suffering for it."

Hermione felt relief at the snark in his retort, even as she felt grief for his predicament. Lifting her gaze to the bench, she found herself staring at a now huddled Wizengamot, conversing with each other with sibilant yet unintelligible whispers. She wanted to demand that they set him free, that they give him a verdict of forgiven-and-forgotten...that they give him what he had earned, even if it fell far short of what he deserved.

But Severus' words were true. The wizarding world had reviled him once before, and his crimes at the time had been forgivably few. Even with Albus Dumbledore alive--at least for a few days more--it was unlikely they'd exonerate him for the other crimes he'd confessed to while under the potion's influence. She didn't think they'd give him a Dementor's Kiss, nor a lifetime in Azkaban...but a few years in wizarding prison, with or without the Dementors' presence to drain the happiness from his life, wasn't palatable, either.

The whisperings slowly ceased as witches and wizards ceased talking and eyed the trio at the bench expectantly. Madam Philliston drew her wand, flicked it, and a shimmering curtain of magic wrapped itself around the Wizengamot tiers. It was some sort of Silencing Sphere, for the steel-haired woman's lips moved, asking something, yet no sound reached across the barrier. A few of the purple-robed set eyed each other. Philliston asked something else, and one or two hands lifted, but only hesitantly. They lowered just as hesitantly, and their owners shook their heads. A third question, and a forest of wand-hands rose into the air.

Dialogue ensued. Unfortunately, there was enough of a shimmer in the curtain to obscure the lips of the Wizengamot members. A whisper close at hand distracted Hermione from the silent, secretive drama unfolding on the other side of that coruscating wall.

"...I want you to promise me you will not remove my ring. Promise me that, Jane," Severus beseeched her under his breath. His black gaze caught and held hers when she looked down at him. "Whatever happens, keep that ring on your finger. So long as you're the mother of my child, and bearing my ring, Sigurd will continue to protect you."

"Severus--"

"Promise me," he repeated, his tone quiet but fierce.

"I promise," Hermione returned, meeting his eyes steadily. She wanted him to know she meant it, that it wasn't a coercion. Cupping his cheek with her left hand, letting the metal rest against his flesh, she emphasized her vow. "I will never take it off. Nor let anyone else remove it. Not until after I'm dead."

Head twisting, he pressed his face into her palm. "Don't ever die..."

The curtain fell.

Reluctant to leave him, Hermione straightened, letting her fingers slide from his skin. For a moment, he looked lost without her touch, bereft even, then his face tightened slightly, hardening back into its usual stony mask. There was a sluggishness about his features that said he was still firmly under the thumb of Veritaserum, but at least he was more alert and responsive, now.

Standing next to the right arm of Severus' chair, Hermione faced them with her shoulders back and her chin level. Her husband might be chained in place, awaiting the fate of a wizarding war-criminal, but she'd face them down with dignity and pride. Hand dropping to his shoulder, she resisted a flinch as Madam Philliston cracked her gavel against its wooden platform.

"This chapter of the International Confederacy of Witches and Wizards, being the Wizengamot of Great Britain, and being a duly authorized body of judicial law...hereby grants Severus Selenius Snape a full and unconditional pardon for all of his past crimes. With a quorum of more than 45 wizards and witches of the standing body of the Wizengamot, it has been decided to further extend this full and unconditional pardon to any international crimes he may have committed in his past. This decision will be lodged and filed with the ICWW within twenty-four hours, and all charges will be dropped and stricken from his records."

"--What? You can't do that! I object!" the Minister of Magic protested, shoving to his feet.

"Sit down, Rufus," Priscilla dismissed.

He didn't sit. Instead, his face reddened with rage. "That man is a criminal, and has made a mockery of everything the Ministry stands for!"

"I said, sit down!" she snapped. "Or I will hold you in contempt of court!"

Scrimgeour looked down his nose at her. "This trial is over, Madam! You have no jurisdiction over me!"

Philliston leaned his way, bracing her forearm against the bench. "This trial isn't over until it is closed, and it has not been closed. Rufus Scrimgeour, I find you in contempt of this court, and remand you into custody until a suitable recompense can be decided and settled--and you do not have the authority to countermand my orders!

"The Law is the Law, and I am sick and tired of you and your predecessors conveniently circumnavigating it!" she snapped. "--In fact, I'm going to order you held in judicial custody pending a full investigation of all of the laws you have encouraged to be broken or overlooked during your tenure as Minister! Given your Deputy is probably just as culpable as you are, I'm ordering his arrest and retention until these matters have been investigated on his behalf, too!"

Iantha Marchbanks peered at her fellow judge. "There's a slight problem with that, Priscilla. That leaves no one in charge of the country."

"--I'll take over the role!"

"Sit down, Cornelius--you'll be investigated, too," Priscilla warned him dryly. "Very well; the Deputy Minister's arrest shall wait until the matter of Scrimgeour's own culpability in willfully ignoring the due process of law has been settled. However, if he tampers with evidence on his or his superior's behalf, it will go all the harder for both of them. Professor Slughorn, we'll need more Truth Serum, if you have it--and I'd like you to administer the doses yourself when you can, so we don't have another incident like this one," she stated, tipping her head towards Severus.

"I'd be happy to oblige, Madam, provided my teaching schedule permits it," Slughorn agreed, nodding his head. Hermione dug into her pocket, extracting the vial of Veritaserum she had confiscated earlier. The rotund, balding wizard smiled at her in thanks, tucking the bottle into his robes.

"I'll make sure your schedule permits it," Minerva McGonagall's voice called out, as the witches and wizards around her started chattering about the unexpected end of Severus Snape's criminal trial.

Dumbledore's voice cut through the noise. "Madam--if I may have a moment of the court's time to address a legal matter?"

Philliston arched a brow, but Marchbanks beat her to it. "Go ahead, young man. What did you want?"

"Given that I am about to expire in just a few days, I would like to finalize the remaining few matters of my estate," Albus stated. That silenced the room. As soon as full quiet fell, he continued. "My personal effects, clothes, wand, gadgets, and assorted doo-dads have already been distributed among my family and friends. But there is the matter of my properties, accounts, stocks, and so forth that have been held in trust for me during my absence from the wizarding world. I would like to dictate their disposition, as a sort of verbal Last Will and Testament. With all of you as my witnesses."

"I'm a bit disturbed after hearing the testimony and your claim of full responsibility for all the acts of your followers," St. James stated. "But...you may proceed."

"Good. I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, being of sound mind and under the influence only of Veritaserum, hereby name Severus and Hermione Snape as joint-heirs to all of my remaining properties, all all of my stocks both Muggle and wizarding, and my various bank accounts, currently held in trust for me by officials of Gringotts. And I wish to state for the record that I am proud of Severus, and his efforts." A pause, then he added politely, "...Thank you."

Astonishment held the crowd silent for a few seconds, before they erupted in noise. Hermione had no idea what sort of inheritance that was, but she knew she would've traded it all for Albus to have lived out the rest of a normal wizarding lifespan. As it was, there was just one more thing to do. Hermione cleared her throat. She did it again, loudly, but the sound was lost in the hubbub. "--Madam Philliston?"

"Yes, Mrs. Snape?"

"Are you going to let my husband go?"

"What?--Oh!" A flick of her wand, and the chains rattled free of Severus' arms and legs. "Terribly sorry about that. If you came here by Portkey...then you'd better get out of here by Portkey, too, if you can. I suspect it'll be a bit of a crush, in a few moments--thus ends the case of the Law vs. Severus Snape!"

Her gavel cracked down on its wooden plate. Considering Severus' state, versus the crowd of people eyeing the two Snapes down on the floor, Hermione agreed. She started to haul Severus out of his chair, but someone interfered. It was her brother. He stopped in front of her husband, his fists balled at her side, his mouth compressed in a tight little line. Severus subsided in his seat, rubbing at his wrists.

Hermione tried to run interference between the two. Now was not the time for a confrontation. "Harry--"

"I have some questions I want answered, before he goes anywhere! He's still under the effects of the Veritaserum, right, Professor?"

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, yes. He'll be under the influence for up to twenty-four hours. I'd say about eighteen to twenty. But he's no longer in danger from a toxic level of truth."

"Good. Snape!" he ordered, facing the older wizard in the chair. "Why did you really marry Hermione?"

"--Harry, this isn't the place or time!" Hermione hissed at him. Of course, her husband answered him anyway.

"Because the circumstances of her donning my ring necessitated it, and because it made things more convenient for us to communicate, because it established a greater level of trust between us, and because I loved her, you hypocritical git."

Harry flushed, his gaze slipping to his blood-sister's, but he firmed his expression and asked the next of the questions burning on his mind. "...Do you still want to kill me?"

"No," Severus snorted, looking at him from under heavy lids. "Knock some sense into you, yes. Kill you, no."

"Do you... Are you going to keep hating me because of what my father did?"

"No. You're a prat all on your own, but I've given up hating you for your father's crimes against me. It wouldn't be prudent, considering I'm stuck with you as an in-law."

That seemed to make Harry flounder for a moment. "Then...then why do you keep calling me names?"

Lax though many of his muscles were, Severus still managed to roll his eyes at Harry. "Because you're a colossal, hypocritical idiot who doesn't think before he speaks, who leaps before he looks, and whom applies double-standards left and right."

Harry's face all but burned, it was so red in reaction to that. His fists clenched, but he didn't strike or anything. Instead, he glanced again at Hermione before stating, "But...you were nice to me as Russel. Was all of that a lie?"

"No. You were actually being tolerable for most of the time."

The younger wizard's shoulders slumped, a bewildered look in his eye. "...Do you hate me, then?"

"I hate your wasted potential, I loathe your attitude problems, and I despise your carelessness. You are an irritant, in your bouts of thoughtlessness," Severus informed him. "Unfortunately, I have been forced to see other sides of you in my Russel guise that make me feel pity and compassion for you. I don't entirely like you, but I don't entirely hate you...though I can almost admire your Slytherin-like interrogation of me while I'm unable to guard my tongue."

Harry chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then blurted out, "...I don't want to be your enemy anymore!"

"Good."

"Then...you'll behave?" he asked his former nemesis.

"Only if you will--and I remind you that if we war with each other, she gets caught in the crossfire."

"--I want a word with you before you go, Severus!" Pushing her way past the bailiffs guarding the bottom of the steps, Minerva strode up to them, her formal navy robes fluttering around her. "Now that you're exonerated for your crimes, I was wondering what your plans for the future were. In specific...would you ever be able to come back and teach at Hogwarts? Potions, Defence...whichever you'd like."

Severus lifted his eyes to hers. "You want me to teach, again? Go back to a school where the students remember me as the killer of their beloved Headmaster?"

"Well...you should probably take a little break, first. Let the word of your heroism and suffering spread out a bit. And give the older ones a chance to graduate and move on to other things--how about a sabbatical?" she offered him, patting his arm. "You never took one, you know, and you're due one every seven years, which means you're due two of them. You'll have to take this year off without pay, of course, but how about you take the next two years off with pay, and then come back to work for me? At least, consider it," she added with a hopeful look.

"I doubt he'll go back," Harry scoffed under his breath. "He never liked teaching."

"Shows what you know, Harry," Severus retorted. "I liked teaching more than I disliked it. I mostly disliked idiots who picked their noses before handling potions ingredients, contaminating their draughts, and who didn't know the differences between commonly used homonyms in their poorly written essays. But I liked educating my students. When they bothered to learn.

"But I don't know what I'm going to do, Minerva. As soon as this damned potion wears off, I'm going to want to hex anything that moves, excepting only my wife. And if all of you don't mind, I would like Jane and I to find a Secret-Kept place far away from the lot of you, so that I never have to answer another question truthfully ever again!"

"...And on that note," Hermione murmured, hauling him to his feet again, this time successfully, "we go! Sigurd, take us home."

"--Wait! Wait, I need an interview!"

The last thing Hermione saw as the golden dragonette materialized, intertwined around her and her husband's arms, was a very frustrated Rita Skeeter trying to push her way past the burly wizard bailiffs guarding the ground floor.

She smiled as Sigurd whisked them away.