Twenty Two: How To Out-Slytherin A Slytherin

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

When it feels like the cold winter wind in the springtime, you'll know it's me.

Much later, Severus and Hermione fell into a deep, short sleep, bodies pressed together like clay fetishes, joined and damp, instilled with magic only death could pull apart; holding onto one another, as if this was the only way they would survive the night.

It dismayed Hermione that Severus was silent; even his thoughts were closed to her. It felt strange, after all these months, to not be able to sense him. It was as if he'd withdrawn into a shell which she was unable to penetrate. It was not that he didn't want her company - she tried to move away from him and he only shook his head and pulled her closer. His eyes looked haunted and immeasurably sad, like large, ink-black pools impenetrable even to her.

In the end, she gave in to him and allowed him to hold her almost painfully close. She relaxed in his vice-like grip, and he, in turn, gradually loosened his clutching hands, and they relaxed from clinging to one another, to holding one another, to comforting one another. Finally, he slid down her body until he was pillowed at her breast, and when she stroked his tangled hair and softly ghosted her fingers over his back, he released his punishing hold.

It occurred to her that, beneath the surface of the brilliant, courageous, loyal man she'd married still lurked the frightened, lost boy who could see the possibility of losing everything dear to him yet again. Hermione imagined how he must have been as a young child, full of innocence and hope, coming to Hogwarts and hoping for a better life away from the squalour of Spinner's End, only to have his heart and his burgeoning self-confidence dashed to pieces over and over against the unyielding stone walls of the castle.

It was in the early morning hours before he was ready to speak of the incident. "I had to see to Draco first. I didn't want to."

Hermione smiled in his hair. "Draco was the one in danger. I've never seen someone lose so much blood so fast."

"I have," Severus replied, his voice soft and full of tenderness, and Hermione felt his long fingers tracing the curse-scar that Dolohov had given her in the Department of Mysteries. "Any other student," he said tightly, his anger and fear returning, "Any other student, and they'd be on the train home. Not Potter," he concluded, spitting the name like it was the foulest of epithets.

Hermione sighed and kissed his damp head. "I know, I know. I really read him the riot act last night." She scowled to herself. "That bloody book - "

Confused, Severus raised up on his elbow and looked down at his wife. "What book?"

Hermione made a dismissive gesture. "Harry found this decrepit old book in Potions at the beginning of the year, and he's been getting perfect grades in Potions ever since. He refuses to let me even touch it."

She stopped and looked at Severus carefully. He was frowning, but there was a dawning realization and consternation in his eyes. "Severus, is this book important?" When he didn't reply, she added, "Is this something I should pursue with Harry?"

Severus grimaced. Now he remembered where he'd seen the writing in Potter's mind. His old Potions text. He had not thought about that book in ages – in fact, he hadn't even bothered to look for it for years now. He felt another surge of anger. Of all people to have his book – Potter!

"Hermione, did he ever tell you who previously owned the book?"

"No, he won't let anyone near it. He's worse than Ginny was about Tom Riddle's diary." She looked at her husband carefully. The pieces fell into place so quickly and so obviously that, for a moment, Hermione felt as thick as a first year. "Was it your book, Severus?" Dawning horror showed clearly on her face. That was why he was so upset about the spell! "You created that spell – what was it? S-Sectumsempra?"

Severus was still for a moment, then nodded. He rose from the soft pillow of Hermione's breast and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands, and Hermione stroked his back placatingly. She could feel him becoming more agitated by the second. Any moment now-

"I was so bloody tired of Potter and Black bullying me!" He closed his eyes to master his emotions. "I put so much hate and dark power into creating that spell, and it worked perfectly. Too bloody perfect." He sighed, the irony in his voice unmistakable. His face became a mask of shame. "I can count on one hand the number of times I've used it, when I've been desperate enough to cast it. It was the closest I could come to an Unforgivable and stay out of Azkaban."

He turned to her, his lovely dark eyes tired and haunted. His face was pinched and white in the dim candlelight. "And Potter almost kills my wife with it! I tell you, Lass, I saw you on that floor and my heart almost stopped beating." He lay back and looked at the ceiling, giving voice to a desolate sigh.

"I knew right then I would be lost if anything happened to you. Duty, honour, promises – they all seem completely pointless. It matters not whether it's The Dark Lord or the Headmaster," he fumed. "Both have twisted me to their own end, and they twist a little harder each time it suits or amuses them. It never stops, does it? Between Lily, the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore, and that bloody Potter, it never stops."

Hermione could hear the exhaustion in his voice. Quietly she rose and sat beside him. She took his hand in hers and kissed it gently. He closed his eyes again, his face contorting in a grimace of pain. "How long can I be bent this way, until I break?"

With his agonised words, he pulled her hard into his arms, encircling her as if to protect himself from the world. She covered his torso in kisses, and stroked his pale chest in an attempt to soothe him. Fiercely, she vowed, "Somehow we will survive this. We have to. I will not let you lose hope." She closed her eyes. "I can't let you lose hope. Or I will, too."

Severus closed his eyes and allowed her hands to ease him, but they could not pacify his warring heart. He wanted to hope, but he was too realistic to believe it would do much good. Never had he felt so close to happiness; never had he felt so close to losing it. Potter – the father and the son. Always trying to take away what belonged to him. One had succeeded; the other would not, if it was the last act Severus performed on this earth. Harry Potter would not take Hermione Granger away from him. He would not save the boy only to lose his world!

Hermione was saying, "I think Draco will open up to me; he was so close when Harry showed up."

Severus grunted skeptically. "Mr. Potter has detention with me for the rest of the term." Let's see how long that famous arrogance lasts when Quidditch season ends and Gryffindor is in last place.

Hermione smiled against his skin. "I know. He told me. He also told me he thinks you and Draco are planning something together." She skimmed her fingers over his soft skin. "I have tried to tell him to be patient, but Harry is stubborn."

The end of November heralded cold, biting rains and chilly weather which made the frigid halls of the school feel like tunnels of ice. Snow began to fall on the first of December, and Hermione felt the harsh weather bearing down on her like depression. With every passing day, they expected something to happen; after several days of silence, it did.

Severus received the summons three days after the incident between Harry and Draco. It happened during Saturday evening's meal; both he and Hermione dropped their forks almost at the same time and winced. It's the Dark Lord. I am being summoned, Hermione heard within her mind. She calmly retrieved her fork and tried to ignore her burning hand.

May the gods bring you back unharmed, Severus. She watched covertly as he calmly dabbed his mouth with his linen napkin, leaned forward and whispered a few words into the Headmaster's ear, and left via the door behind the Head Table. Dumbledore turned back to his meal, and Hermione followed suit, but her food had lost its appeal.

As he walked to the Apparation point, he saw a large blond man, obviously waiting for him. His Death Eater robe looked new, and the man sneered at him with the arrogance that only seemed to come from the privilege of pure blood. Severus had seen it many times; it never failed to make him want to hex it right off their smug faces. In their eyes, he would always be beneath them, no matter how high he rose in the ranks of the Dark Lord's minions.

The newly-indoctrinated Death Eater took his arm. "I'm to take you to our Lord, Snape." He sounded so full of his own self-importance Severus was tempted to take him down a peg or two; just to show the blond cunt exactly how dirty a half-blood Manc piece of trash could fight.

Instead, Severus favoured the escort with a flat, sullen stare, and a shrug that was as insolent as a slap in the face. The blond dropped his eyes from Severus' steady gaze, and they turned together, Apparating to a location he'd never seen before.

It was a large, sprawling manse somewhere in what appeared to be Wales. Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting in the ante-chamber of the receiving room where Lord Voldemort now held court. The manor house, Bellatrix explained, had belonged to a certain Pureblood who had not fully appreciated the Dark Lord's vision of the new Wizarding world, and had, as a consequence, parted from this life rather abruptly. Having no surviving relatives (how hellishly Bellatrix tittered when she said that!), the estate passed rather conveniently into the hands of Dark Lord for his pleasure.

She and Narcissa had been charged with preparing the house for the Dark Lord to take up residency, and according to Bellatrix he had only just arrived himself. No other Death Eaters were present, as yet. Severus snorted inwardly. The vile creature hadn't summoned Severus so much for information as to show off his newly acquired home.

The rooms were gloomy, a little threadbare, and cold. This is the great manner in which the Dark Lord accustoms himself, thought Severus. Even to his less-than-aristocratic eye, the place was little more than a stately pile, gently but persistently falling into disrepair and ruin. It seemed to Severus to represent all the Dark Lord stood for. Ashes and bones, faded glory and genteel shabbiness. And this was Wizarding Britain's future! It was welcome to it.

When this is over, I'll take Hermione to someplace warm and sunny. We'll loll together on silk cushions, and she will feed me grapes and dates, and I will shower her with rose petals, and make love to her under a canopy of stars. We will be decadent and mysterious, and no one will know us, my love, no one will find us...

Severus approached the Dark Lord with the same calm bearing as he had many times before, and knelt at Voldemort's feet, kissing his robe. He kept his head bowed, expecting displeasure and hoping to avoid the Dark Lord's Legilimency for as long as possible.

"Rise, my dear Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, and stroked Severus' cheek as he stood. "So good of you to come, considering the distressing news I have learned of earlier this week."

Glancing around, Severus could see Bellatrix and Narcissa standing in the shadows. He bowed his head. "Yes, My Lord." What should I mention first? Draco or Hermione? In the end, he let the Dark Lord decide.

"And how is your lovely lady wife, Severus? Has she recovered from her ordeal? Is she pining for your child, lost to Harry Potter?"

Severus looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord, and allowed him entrance into his mind. Years of practice had taught Severus how to suppress his emotion and revulsion at this mental molestation. Training with Hermione had reinforced his mental shields, and allowed him to enclose his weariness and frustration at Dumbledore and Draco, and above all, contain his towering fear. He buried it deep within, where no one could find it. At this moment, Severus himself was no longer aware of it.

The hardest part was the effort needed to select only what he wished the Dark Lord to see, but now, after all this time, it was automatic; almost like muscle memory. He pushed everything away, and narrowed the tunnel in his mind down to the moment in the toilets, running in and seeing his wife bleeding over Draco's inert form.

He next offered the vision of the blood-soaked bed, and Hermione crying, I have to face him, pretend to be his friend, knowing he did this to me! Severus, he killed our child! I'll never forgive him! And the Dark Lord - He will be displeased with us!

The sickening pull away from the Dark Lord's invasion of his mind disoriented Severus for a second, and he dropped his gaze, lacing his expression with anger and grief.

"Such a pity, Severus. I am displeased," the Dark Lord said, his voice low and dangerous. "I am displeased that Draco allowed himself to be goaded into such a petty little duel. As his Head of House, Severus, it is your duty to teach the boy better self-control, especially where Potter is concerned. I had expected better leadership from his mentor and godfather." Severus nodded, and bowed his head, waiting for the Cruciatus to tear into his system. Hermione...

Fortunately, Bellatrix, no doubt fearful that her family honour was at stake, unwittingly saved Severus from being punished by mumbling something under her breath. Lord Voldemort turned to her, momentarily distracted by her insolence. "An opinion should always be shared with the room, dear Bellatrix. What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Unafraid, Bellatrix sneered. "If he were my son I'd punish him for being stupid enough to get hexed by Potter! Next to Draco, Potter's nothing! A weakling, a coward -"

"An imperfect weapon can still wreak havoc in the wrong hands, dear sister," replied Narcissa coolly. "And if that hand is Dumbledore – "

"Soon he will no longer be a problem, Cissy!" In her zeal, Bellatrix turned from her sister and faced the Dark Lord fearlessly. "Soon, My Lord, I will give you Dumbledore's head on a golden platter!"

Narcissa spun on her sister, and for the first time since Severus arrived, he could see tension and emotion in her face. Her pale eyes narrowed as she spat at Bella, "You will give it? It is my son who will do it!"

The Dark Lord fixed his blood-red eyes on Bellatrix. Peevishly, he retorted, "Draco has a task to do. It is a man's task; a wizard's task. It is a task he cannot perform if he continues to act like a child and do childish things. Narcissa?"

"Yes, My Lord?" Narcissa's voice was a cool as her sister's was fevered, and Severus noted that she looked serene and noble, as if her world wasn't crashing down around her. He felt a grudging admiration for the woman whose husband languished in Azkaban and whose son had almost been killed by his arch enemy. She looked as if those things had passed over her without leaving a trace of their anxiety on her flesh. Severus wondered how she'd been sleeping at night.

"My dear Narcissa, it would not please me for our plans to be set back yet again. Your son will be reminded that his task is almost upon him; I will not tolerate another outburst of this kind, an outburst that almost ruined everything! It cost the life of Severus' unborn child. A child," The Dark Lord paused and touched Severus' shoulder. "I had a purpose for."

Bellatrix was undaunted. "Other children, My Lord! Other, better made, Pureblood children will bow to you! An army of Pureblood children, lifting their hands to you!" She was standing beside Narcissa, eyes blazing, a mad high priestess ready to sacrifice innocents to the alter of her Dark Lord.

She glanced at Severus with withering contempt. "What could a child of a half-breed and a Mudblood give you, My Lord, which a Pureblood like Draco could not give, with greater strength and courage?"

Severus felt a sick wave of loathing that matched, perhaps even surpassed his disgust for the Dark Lord. In a voice laced with scorn, he growled, "May I remind you, Bellatrix, that this 'Mudblood' saved your precious nephew's life three days ago. Do you hold his life so cheap that you cannot appreciate her sacrifice?"

Severus turned back to the Dark Lord. He steamrolled along before it occurred to anyone that Potter wouldn't have picked a fight with Draco had he not followed Hermione into the toilets.

"Had she not stepped between them, I cannot say that Draco would have survived Potter's hex. Even before thinking of my child, she thought of protecting Draco so that his purpose would be fulfilled." Severus felt faintly nauseous. Calm yourself, fool! You have to not feel, not care – for the sake of your wife!

Narcissa smiled as she caught his eye. "I owe both you and your wife my gratitude, Severus. I have instructed Draco to convey to Mrs. Snape my thanks, and my condolence as well."

"Ah yes. The niceties must be adhered to, must they not, Severus? After all, we are not savages here." The Dark Lord sat back in his throne, looking strangely petulant.

Severus bowed at the Dark Lord, then turned and nodded to Narcissa. "I'm sure Mrs. Snape will cherish the sentiments." He turned smoothly back to the throne. "My Lord, if I may," he began, casting the full battery of his liquid eyes on the Dark Lord, "I can tell you that with this incident, Potter grows more and more isolated with each passing day. My wife has abandoned him, the blood traitor Weasley has found distraction in the arms of a young Pureblood witch, and has no time for him, either. Potter is alone now, and will remain so."

"And Dumbledore? Does Albus make time for young Mr. Potter?"

Severus shook his head slightly. "The Headmaster is so busy trying to bring a sense of normality to Hogwarts that he scarce pays attention to what is happening." That was so close to truth that Severus didn't have to lie. So wrapped up in his own search for Horcruxes and his growing dementia, Dumbledore was deteriorating daily. When Severus had informed him of the incident in the toilets, he had shrugged and sent Severus on his way with a caution to 'be ready.'

The Dark Lord made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "No matter, no matter. Albus is getting old. He will soon be of little consequence. But contrary to dear Bella's notions," he cast a baleful eye over to the dark woman, "Dumbledore is not a wizard one discounts easily. The sooner Draco steps up to his responsibilities, the sooner this waste of time and effort will be over."

Bellatrix fell to her knees before her Master. "He will not fail you, My Lord, I swear it! We have a wonderful Christmas surprise for you – please believe me!"

Voldemort watched his lieutenant carefully, then turned away. Severus smirked as Bella's face fell, and he could see her old jealousy flare back into life as the Dark Lord turned his attention to Severus again. "You must take care of your wife," he hissed, his smile hellish. "I have important plans for you in the near future, Severus, and her presence will be... a comfort to you."

"As always, you do me too much honour, My Lord," Severus had whispered, bowing low, wondering at the back of his mind what new horrors awaited him. "She is all the more committed to Potter's demise because of what he did to Draco... and her unborn child." Severus had no need for pretence. His loathing was all too clear. "It will be my pleasure to see him receive what he so richly deserves at your hand, My Lord." He bowed again and calmly took his leave; his bowels cramped with relief, as they always did when he removed himself from the Dark Lord's presence.

As he reached the foyer, he heard a tentative, "Severus?"

Turning around, he saw Narcissa walking toward him, closing the door to the audience room behind her. "Thank you for – for taking care of Draco. He told me what happened, and how Mrs. Snape tried to protect him." A cloud passed over her calm expression for a moment. "I am sorry about your wife. Truly."

For a moment, Severus saw the unflappable demeanor crack, and the fear in Narcissa's eyes was almost as overwhelming as his own. She shook her head. "To lose one's child; I cannot imagine how she must be -" She stopped abruptly at the sound of her sister's approaching footsteps, and arranged her features into their characteristic cool lines.

"One less half-blood in the world, so what? They breed like rats anyway," Bellatrix Lestrange taunted sullenly, as she came abreast of her sister. She regarded Severus with a lecherous sneer. "So what's it like, Sev, fucking a Mudblood, eh?" She pointedly gave his crotch a lewd little glance. "Does it squeal like a little pig in the mud when you stick it in?"

"Bella!" Narcissa's admonishing tone only made her sister laugh harder.

Severus forced his face into a mask of boredom. "A gentleman never kisses and tells, Bellatrix."

He turned to leave and forced himself not to react to her heckling. "A gentleman might not, but what do you do, Severus? What do you do?" Her laughter sounded like the scurrying of rats along the floor, and grated on Severus' already overwrought nerves.

If it is the last thing I do, Bella, he thought, as he strode purposefully toward the Apparition point, I'm going to dance on your grave – with my Hermione.

He found her dozing in his chair when he entered his chambers. The moment he stepped into the door, she was awake and running toward him. Hermione flung her arms around her husband, and covered his mouth with fierce kisses that tasted of cherry tart and tea and relief. "It's alright, Lass," he said, soothingly, twining her wild hair in his hands, so damn grateful to see her he felt unsteady on his feet. "I'm here now."

She dragged him into his bed chamber, pulling frantically at his clothing, until she had undressed him enough to fall on her knees before him. As she pushed his shirt away, he felt the unbearable tension that had roiled in his chest loosen, and the relief of returning to Hermione gave rise to a rush of arousal that matched her own, and he was suddenly impatiently, needfully ready for her.

In some part of his mind, the Death Eater part, he welcomed this sweet feeling of power, and smiled at the anticipation of his wife's talented lips and mouth on his cock. His hard member sprang from his trousers, and she looked up at him with such fire in her amber eyes he felt dizzy. She mewled in frustration while she worked to free his blazing erection from the tangle of his clothing, and then he was hot and hard in her small, soft hand. She kissed the tip of his cock reverently, relief and love and passion plainly written in her hungry expression. By then they were both panting with desire.

"Oh, fuck. Put your mouth on me, girl," he hissed, his pleading tone sounding angry and eager. With a helpless little whimper, she desperately engulfed his cock in her mouth, and he felt a dark, warped passion flood his mind and his groin and tear a feral growl from his throat. It was a bitter, twisted sort of lust that only she could assuage. He needed to feed it to her as surely as he fed her his cock, pulling her close, unmindful of his hands gripping at her hair, heedless of any discomfort he might cause.

He closed his eyes and felt her moaning in her throat, her passion vibrating around his throbbing member, coiling the delicious tension within, until it no longer felt as if he were trapped in some nightmare of his own design. Her mouth was hot and wet and tight, like her little pink cunt; when she slid two strong, slender fingers into his rectum and swirled her velvety tongue over the head of his straining prick, he almost swooned. A guttural sound roared from his lips, and he rocked against her with increasing power and lust; slipping the lead of his self-control until he was fucking her mouth with abandon, grunting with each thrust.

"Ah, gods, witch... suck it hard... oh, don't stop... so c-close..." he moaned, feeling a crippling, melting, molten wave of pleasure wash over him. His nipples were drawn tight and aching; he could feel them scratching against his shirt. Pinned as he was between Hermione's voracious, wondrous mouth and her pumping fingers, Severus felt his balls sizzle with that welcoming, blessed fire. His impending climax raced into his aching cock and burst from him like an explosion, and he howled as his orgasm shattered his senses. His magic blasted from his core in a palpable wave, sputtering out candles and scattering papers onto the floor.

He held her head to his cock as it spurted his relief into her waiting, eager mouth. "Take it, drink it," he demanded brokenly, his voice hoarse and demonic with lust. "Drink it all down," he growled, feeling the darkness drain from him with each pulse, filling him with light and relief and reason again.

Trembling, he glanced down at his wife as she slowly pulled away from his spent and blameless cock, panting, licking her rosy, swollen lips. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her with all the gratitude he was capable of feeling.

Draco had virtually ceased to be visible in the week following the attack. Every time Hermione tried to catch him alone, he seemed to vanish into thin air. She was tempted to ask Harry if she could borrow the Marauder's Map, but in the end, she couldn't think of a plausible excuse that wouldn't wind up with Harry standing over her shoulder while she looked for Draco.

Hermione was also frustrated that Harry had still not told Dumbledore about the Potions textbook. To make matters worse, Harry had apparently hidden it, so Hermione could do nothing about it either. Nothing was going according to plan, and Severus seemed more tense and less certain with every passing day. More than once Hermione had awakened during the night to find him sitting in his chair, brooding, or looking through research they'd already combed through twice before.

Dumbledore grew less lucid as the days progressed. One evening after dinner, at their request, he met with her and Severus. Their pleas for him to talk to Harry about the true nature of the Horcruxes fell on deaf ears. Each time they listed another reason Harry should be made aware of what was facing him, The Headmaster waved them away almost indifferently. "Harry will have the tools he requires when the need arises," he said, placidly, fishing around in a candy dish for a particular cockroach cluster.

"But sir," Hermione began, "perhaps if I spoke to him – "

"If you say one word to Harry, Madam Snape, I will be forced to reveal your marriage and have you expelled from the school."

She and Severus gasped and looked at one another. "For what?" Severus marveled.

Dumbledore studied his blackened hand. "Oh, I'm sure I could find some precedence of rule violation."

It was all Hermione could do not to stamp her foot in irritation. "Why are you doing this, Headmaster? Harry is in grave danger! He needs to know!"

"Severus," Dumbledore brushed past Hermione as if she were not in the room, "now is the time to discuss the future of the school. Once the deed is done, Hogwarts will need a new Headmaster."

Severus stared at the old man in disbelief. Forcing his anger in check, he drawled, "I see. So would you like for me to kill Minerva before or after I send you to your death?"

"You will have to protect the children. You must be Headmaster."

Severus threw back his head and laughed. Hermione looked at him warily. This was the last reaction she expected. She had anticipated anger, but for some reason, his wild laughter frightened her. "Of course, Albus!" he jeered. "And what next? Will Hermione and I perform human sacrifices to the gods each Friday? Teach sex education the Monty Python way?"

The laughter in his voice took on an edge of malice. "Oh, and while we're at it, do we put Minerva in a cattery while I take over? Because that's what it will take to keep her from cursing me into powder!"

"Minerva is completely capable of running this school, that is true," Albus replied pleasantly. "In peacetime, I would not hesitate to name her Headmistress. But she will not be able to control things when Tom takes over. And he will, Severus," the Headmaster added, fixing the younger wizard with a steely gaze. "You know as well as I that when I fall, the Ministry will fall, and the school will be overrun by Death Eaters. Muggleborns will be persecuted, and the students here will retaliate. It will become a Children's Crusade, and lives will be lost. As long as Tom believes you to belong to him, you will be able to protect the children. If you become Headmaster."

"Until when, Albus? Until the Aurors come in and ship what's left of me off to Azkaban? Until the students mutiny and hang me from the ceiling as the Great Bat of the Dungeons?" Severus felt outside himself with sick, hopeless fury. "Am I preserving this school for the Dark Lord's vision of Hogwarts, or yours? Exactly how am I supposed to protect the Muggleborns? How am I supposed to keep a revolt from happening? I'll be remembered as the Headmaster who turned the school into a slaughterhouse!"

He felt a howling rage in him which roared like a fever in his head, and he cried, "Isn't it enough that I will be vilified as your murderer, but you want me to be remembered as the most hated Headmaster in history?" Tears spilled unnoticed from his eyes. "You ask too much, old man!" He turned from Dumbledore and Hermione, because he could not bear for her to see him weep in frustration. "You're crushing me under your demands!"

"You must do it, Severus. You are the only one who can truly protect the students," Dumbledore said calmly. His mild, almost vacant expression never changed. "In the end, they will know the truth."

"After I'm dead, you mean!" Severus shook with anguish. "Give me one good reason to do this, Albus, and spare me your bullshit about –"

"Duty."

"Bollocks to duty!" Severus spat, a fleck of foam at the corner of his mouth. He looked slightly deranged. "This isn't duty, Albus! This is martyrdom, and I've already told you I won't - "

"Remember Regulus Black, Severus?"

Severus grew still. The raging storm that had blown through him dropped as if he'd arrived in the eye of the hurricane. He closed his eyes. In a quiet, sorrowful voice, he said, "May your soul be damned to all eternity for that, Albus. You cannot lay that at my door as an excuse. First Lily, then Hermione, then Reg–"

"He took the Mark with you. He was your best friend, your fellow Death Eater -"

"Enough!" The two wizards turned toward the young woman they'd all but forgotten. Hermione was pale and shaking as she turned on Dumbledore. "Headmaster, you don't know what you are asking of Severus. He's going to be on the run for his life if he – he –"

"When, Madam Snape. When he helps me to the other side," Dumbledore said, as if speaking of Severus helping him cross a busy intersection. "I know this, but so did Severus when he made his vow. The Greater Good – "

"Fuck your Greater Good!" she shouted. Severus reached for her, but in her anger, she shook his arm off hers. She turned on the Headmaster, her face contorted with anger. "You just keep pushing, don't you? You're not satisfied until you've broken him in every way you can break him, and you console yourself it's for your Greater Good!"

She advanced on him, her eyes narrowing. "We had a deal, Headmaster. I would help him try to determine what Draco's plans were, and help Harry, and you would be satisfied. He would make sure Draco's precious soul was safe. Fine.

"Now you want him to come back to Hogwarts, and turn it into a concentration camp under his command! Don't you see? When Harry wins, all Severus will be remembered for is this, and killing you! He will be put under Azkaban!" She burst into angry tears, furious with herself that she was showing such weakness. "Why won't you give Severus a chance to have a future? Perhaps he might survive the scandal of the school, but that and killing you?"

She was in Severus' arms and he was trying to reassure her, but she refused to be comforted. "This is some sort of vengeance, Severus! Why is he doing this to us?" She sobbed wildly, holding on to her husband. "It's not fair," she cried, over and over, knowing how childish she sounded and helpless to stop it. "It's not fair."

"My dear, life is often unfair," Dumbledore began, and Severus turned on the old man.

"Enough, Albus! Spare us your fucking platitudes. Leave us some dignity." Severus turned to Hermione and led her to the Fireplace. "Come, Lass, you've worked yourself into a right state. There's nothing left for us here."

As they approached the fireplace, Severus turned to Dumbledore. "You know, old man, if part of your plan was to make me hate you enough to cast the Killing Curse, it's working too bloody well."

Opening lyrics: Moments Retraced – Christopher Branch