Twenty Four: Among These Dark Satanic Mills

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.

- William Blake, 1804

Hermione was only dimly aware of Severus grabbing her arm and pulling her down the stairs like a wayward animal. Her head was filled with a buzzing, chattering sound that made her want to run from it and scream at it to go away, but she was afraid if she opened her mouth and started screaming, she might never stop.

She saw Draco's white, pinched face staring at her in dumbfounded horror, as if he'd never truly seen her before. She saw fear in him as well, and a tiny, receding voice within said, That's right, Draco. Be afraid. Show them all what Pureblood breeding means against Mudblood courage...

Severus gave her a hard little shake, and she realised her thoughts were bleeding through to him. "Focus!" he hissed at her, and she allowed him to drag her down the stairs. His grip on her arm was tight, and it should have hurt. Her body felt as if it was encased in a layer of ice. She felt so numb she idly wondered if she'd never feel anything ever again...

Hermione had made sure Professor Flitwick was unharmed, and remained a moment with Luna, but she was so restless even Luna seemed affected by it. As she watched Hermione pace, her usual, placid expression turned to puzzlement, but she didn't say anything.

Just stay here. Severus told you to. I'm supposed to stay here until... Hermione chewed on her nails, a habit she'd broken herself of years ago, but she was gnawing away now as if waiting on her exams.

She called out to Severus, but all she could hear were echoes of words, voices, jumbled in his mind. It was as if he had dropped all Occlusions, and she was hearing the fear that he always so rigidly controlled. The sounds and thoughts had rough corners and razor-sharp edges that cut and scraped against her mind. The idea that something, anything, could affect Severus this badly filled Hermione with panic.

From within Severus' mind, all Hermione could hear was buzzing voices, and they grew in number and volume until she felt engulfed by them. Severus was on transmit, and every thought flying through his head was battering at her mind until she could no longer think straight: ... mentor... gaoler...Hermione... magic rising... Dumbledore's cruelty... lack of regard for Hermione... she stepped between you and Dolohov...my wife... Albus and his Greater Good... to cast an Unforgivable you have to mean it...Hermione... fire... blood... Dumbledore...your mother is dead...this is what you deserve... Regulus Black is dead... Lily is dead... Hermione's parents are dead... my fault, dead, dead, dead... say the words... we had a bargain...say them...mean it... say them... the Marauders... Severus will be the martyr...boys will be boys... Hermione... that brat is just like his father... she healed me... Sirius Black escaped... forgive me... his wife... my wife...

Hermione looked past her husband to Dumbledore, who glanced at her. She heard his voice cut through all of Severus' white noise, injected into her brain with the precision of a needle into a vein: We had a bargain, Madam Snape. Insurance, you will recall. If you truly wish for him to have a chance outside of a life in Azkaban, you'll keep your side of the agreement we made the day you took Severus as your husband... I am begging this of you...

And then Dumbledore sealed his fate. He looked up at Severus, and smiled, and in that smile, Hermione saw him mouth the word: Coward. Hermione looked at her husband, whom she loved more than anyone on earth, and everything she needed was within her and roiling from her wand like water.

The curse burst from her, hard and hot and sweet and almost sexual in its ferocity, and the words flew from her lips like a love song. The moment Albus Dumbledore flew from the tower, dead from the curse she'd shouted into the night sky, was almost as fulfilling as the moment Severus burst through her maidenhead and made her his own. The moment was transcendental; it spun away from her like an orgasm, like a wave of anger and hatred and bitterness and resentment for everything that had ever been said against her or Severus in her hearing. Mudblood, know-it-all, Muggleborn trash, poor, stuck-up, pretentious... greasy bat... bitch... Snivellus... slag ... half-blood... little slut... coward...

It all shimmered away from her like leaves picked up and scattered by the indifferent wind, and the more it spun away from her the less she felt. Her entire being shut down, and a blissful numbness crept into her, starting at her wand hand; soon she was covered in a blanket of nothingness.

Her emotions were rolling away with the last vestiges of the curse, following the dead man as he silently fell like a stone from the tower to the ground, leaving her empty and broken. Dimly, she heard the beautiful voice of the man she loved, the man she'd killed for, whisper, "No, Lass. No." Hermione looked into his eyes, and she saw the horror and revulsion in his face. He hates me, she thought, and fleetingly wondered why she could not care.

And then they were running. Draco was ahead on her right side; she could see the moonlight shining on his gleaming cap of silver-blond hair. Her hand was in Severus' as he ran, ruthlessly pulling her along so fast her feet hardly touched the ground.

They were nearly at Hagrid's hut, sprinting toward the gates and the Apparition point, when a stunner kicked Hermione's feet out from under her and sent her sprawling face first onto the frosty ground. "MURDERER! YOU MURDERING BITCH!"

Breathless and dizzy, covered in mud and rotting leaves, Hermione tried to draw herself onto legs that were shaking and unsteady, as Severus hissed, "Draco! Help Hermione to the Apparition point. I'll take care of Potter."

Hermione turned around and saw Harry racing after them, throwing every spell he could think of, but Severus batted away each one as if it were of no more consequence than a fly.

"Expelliarmus!" Blocked.

"Stupefy!" Blocked again.

"Sectumsem-" Severus blasted the spell away with a retaliating blocking shield so powerful it literally knocked Harry off his feet.

He stood over Harry, rage emanating from every pore. "When will you learn that until you keep that big gob shut you will be blocked and blocked over and over – especially if you're stupid enough to use my own spells against me, Potter!" He was raging, almost mad with fury.

Harry looked up at Severus, comprehending at last. He rasped, "Your spells -"

"I am the Half-Blood Prince, you pathetic little shit!" Severus' loathing for Harry was unfettered, and he unleashed his hatred with sweet abandon. He taunted, "You're so in love with the sound of your own voice you're going to make the Dark Lord feel cheated of a good fight!"

"You BASTARD!" Harry screamed, and raised his wand again, "Cru-"

"NO!" Hermione tore herself out of Draco's grasp. "Harry, leave him alone!"

Harry turned on her and bellowed, "How can you defend him? How can you live with yourself after what you've done?" He turned back to Severus. "You Imperused her, or Confunded her or something! You made her do your dirty work because you were too much of a coward –" He raised his wand again.

"Harry-"

Severus battered Harry down with another blocking spell. "Don't!" Severus shouted, his eyes turning huge and demonic, "don't CALL ME A COWARD!"

"Crucio!" The blond Death Eater's curse sliced through the air and hit Harry squarely in the chest. He fell to the ground, writhing, screaming in pain. Hermione hadn't even noticed the Death Eater following them.

"No! Leave him for the Dark Lord!" Severus' voice thundered into the night. Hermione heard the Death Eater sullenly cancel the curse. Thwarted, the blond turned away, snarling in frustration; he sent a spell Hermione didn't recognise into Hagrid's hut, causing it to burst into flames.

She turned back to Harry just as he slumped to the ground, dazed and howling in pain from the aftereffects of the curse. With a silent spell, his wand skittered out of reach. Hermione could not tell who cast it. She could hear Hagrid bellowing in anger and fear, something about Fang being trapped inside the hut.

Severus stood over Harry, fury and hatred distorting his expression in the hellish fires of Hagrid's hut. "Now, listen to me, Potter, because you're only worth me saying this once. If you so much as raise your wand against my wife again, there won't be enough of you left for the Dark Lord to destroy."

Harry gasped, his face pinched with grief and shock. "Wife? You mean she -"

"She what? Touches me? Fucks me? I'll bet the thought of it just eats you alive, doesn't it, Potter?" Severus' eyes were wild, his voice harsh and rasping. "And she's all mine - do you hear me, James? Mine! Hermione belongs to me!"

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. "Severus!"

Something in her voice - perhaps it was the last vestiges of emotion - was enough to pull him from his blind, unhinged rage. He turned and looked at Hermione as awaking from a nightmare. She shook her head. "This isn't James."

Severus looked at the boy, then closed his eyes. Draco, who did not hear the altercation, ran back to Severus, plucking at his robe. "For fuck's sake, let's go!"

As Severus watched, Hermione ran to Harry, falling to her knees by his side. "Harry, listen to me-"

"Traitor!"

"Listen to me!" she cried, grabbing hold of his hands. He looked up at her in shock and tried to wrestle away from her, but he was too weak, and Hermione grimly held on.

"Why?" He asked, crying openly. "He was helpless! You killed a helpless, suffering old man in cold blood! Why?" He looked past her to Severus' darkened face. "Because of him? Do you actually believe that you love that bastard?"

Loudly, Hermione said, "I have done what I have done of my own free will. I'm doing this on my own. Please, Harry..." She reached down and kissed his cheek, holding his hands.

Harry looked up at her as if he still did not comprehend her. His eyes bored into hers. "You Judas!" he hissed, tears streaming down his face. "I will never forgive you for this! You'll be hunted until the day you die! You and your fucking husband!"

An almighty screech rent the air, and Draco screamed in fright as Buckbeak, the Hippogriff, bore down on him and Severus, slashing at them with his razor-sharp talons.

"Hermione, come now!" She felt Severus' strong arms pulling her to her feet, tearing her hands from Harry's grip, and once again they were dashing toward the School gates, ducking to keep out of the grip of Buckbeak's deadly claws. Behind her, she could hear screaming and cries of grief and pain, and the world seemed to be on fire. Hermione thought she might be sick; she shook her head to clear it. She couldn't show weakness now, not in front of the Death Eaters...

Severus grabbed her arms and the world spun away, and Hermione was torn away from the last hallmark of her innocence forever...

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting to greet them when Severus, Hermione, Draco and the other Death Eaters arrived at Malfoy Manor. Draco had been adamant: they were to return to his home before meeting with the Dark Lord. Once there, the other Death Eaters were quickly dispatched to report to Voldemort. Severus assured them he and Hermione would follow shortly.

All that mattered to Narcissa was Draco. He had flown into the arms of his mother, who welcomed him like a conquering hero. "My beautiful boy!" she said, crying tears of joy, holding him fervently to her breast. She kissed his face over and over, and held onto him as if afraid he'd be torn from her arms at any moment. "At last, it's over!" She looked from Severus to Draco to Hermione. "The deed is done, is it not?"

"It is done," Severus said archly, his voice flat and cold. Hermione stood a little apart from him, swaying. She could clearly hear what was being said, but it simply did not matter to her. Something was wrong with her; she felt decidedly strange. She was in some sort of fugue state, where nothing mattered, nothing was. She tried to summon a feeling, any feeling, but all she could feel was... nothing.

Severus announced, "The Dark Lord will wish to meet with us shortly. Before then, Narcissa, you and I have a small matter to discuss." He fixed his eye on Draco. "A matter of an Unbreakable Vow."

Narcissa, ecstatic that her only child was safe and the Dark Lord's task completed, nodded. "Of course, Severus. I will renounce the vow anytime you like-"

"You will do it now, Narcissa. Hermione, as witness to the making of the vow, you will act as our unbinder." When she did not respond, Severus barked, "Hermione!"

Startled out of her trance-like state by his forceful voice, she nodded dumbly. Taking out her wand, Hermione waited while her husband and Narcissa knelt. When he curtly nodded up at her, Hermione touched the tip of her wand to their joined hands.

Severus began, his sonorous voice rolling through the room. "I, Severus Tobias Granger-Snape, watched over your son Draco as he attempted to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes, according to my vow."

Narcissa nodded. "I, Narcissa Black Malfoy, do acknowledge this and release you from this vow."

A thin, shining flame unloosened itself from their clasped hands, dissipating as it fell away. Severus continued, "I, Severus Tobias Granger-Snape, protected him from harm to the best of my ability, according to my vow." Hermione had a sudden vision of Draco lying in a pool of bloody water in a school toilet.

"I, Narcissa Black Malfoy, do acknowledge this and release you from this vow."

A second, fiery line dropped from their hands, and Severus seemed to breathe a little easier. "And when it proved necessary that Draco was unable to carry out the deed the Dark Lord ordered him to perform, I, Severus Tobias Granger-Snape, ensured that it was done, according to my vow."

"I, Narcissa Black Malfoy, do acknowledge this and release you from this vow."

As the last shining wire fell from their clasped hands, Severus stood. Narcissa, clearly overcome with relief and joy, said, "If there is anything I can do to repay you, Severus, anything you need, please say the word -"

"The word will be said," Severus interrupted smoothly. He looked down at Narcissa with thinly-veiled contempt. "Now go to your son. Dry his tears, pet and soothe him, and remind him, when the night looks as if it will never end, that Hermione Granger-Snape, a Mudblood, had the courage to do his dirty work for him."

Narcissa looked up at Severus in astonishment. "Your wife? What does your wife have to do -"

"She killed Dumbledore."

The three people in the room turned and looked at the pale, gaunt features of Draco Malfoy. He was staring at Hermione with disgust. "She walked up to him and killed him without even batting an eye. Then she kissed Potter." He shook his head. "Gods, you're coldblooded, Granger."

"Enough!" Severus growled, his eyes dark and dangerous. "She was good enough to save your worthless hide, Malfoy! More than once, if you'll recall."

Draco turned on his professor with contempt. "And what about you, Severus?" he sneered, throwing the name down like a gauntlet. "You stood there like a fool while Dumbledore begged you for mercy, and in the end, you didn't have the juice to do it!"

Severus looked from Draco to the shocked, white face of his mother, then sneered in Hermione's direction. "I didn't need to, did I? Not while little Miss Gryffindor does my bidding." He turned to Hermione and grabbed her by the arm. "Come, pet," he drawled, his smooth voice dripping with disdain. "We have a triumph to celebrate. With the Dark Lord."

Hermione managed to keep her feet moving as they walked from the Manor, and once outside the wards, Severus spun her away.

They landed in Spinner's End and entered the house, the silence stretching between them. Hermione looked around dully. She should have found comfort at the grey normality of Severus' boyhood home, but she could feel nothing. She was shaking and having a hard time staying on her feet; she swayed dangerously and would have fallen, had Severus not caught her. Without preamble, he commanded, "Go upstairs to bed. Strip. Get rid of all your clothes."

Propelled by his terse command, Hermione meekly walked toward the stairs. She was only a step away when her legs collapsed under her. She was fine one moment, and then... she lay at the bottom of the stairs, like a toy tossed on the floor by a petulant child. Turning her head, she looked up at the man she'd spent every night with since the summer. It was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. No. It was like looking into Professor Snape's eyes the summer before Black started pawing her in Grimmauld Place. Like a man who didn't know her and didn't care to.

He set his lips in a thin, grim line, as if he suspected her of faking her fall. "Do you need assistance?" His voice was aloof and formal. Hermione mutely nodded. For some reason, she felt completely disengaged from him, as if their minds were no longer linked. Now that she could give it some thought, she realised it had been that way since she killed Dumbledore. She had killed a man. She stumbled upon the thought, like a shoe she'd forgotten and only now had located by tripping over it.

Severus wearily pulled her to her feet and helped her up the stairs, as patiently and impersonally as if they'd only just met. When they reached the landing, he opened the bedroom door for her, and when she leaned against him, he pulled away, flinching.

I've lost him, she thought numbly, trying to process the emotion that should go with it. She felt nothing. Where was the sick, twisted feeling in her gut that should have accompanied the terrible reality of the night's events? I thought I was saving him, but I've killed his love for me along with Dumbledore. Why can't I feel anything?

Severus wordlessly helped her undress; his hands felt as if they belonged to a stranger. He pulled her sodden jumper over her head, and removed her trainers and socks. She handed him her mud-caked jeans and underclothes, and he took the entire bundle and threw them into the disused fireplace and Incendio'd the entire lot. She didn't have the energy to ask why. He waited until she climbed into bed, then he tucked the covers around her as efficiently and impersonally as a Mediwitch. He left the room, and Hermione could hear him moving in the loo across the hall. Moments later, he returned with a small vial.

"Drink this. It's a Calming Draught. I want you to sleep." As she obeyed him, he hissed and clutched at his arm. "Shit!" he muttered under his breath. He glanced up at Hermione, who looked back at him with flat, unfeeling calm. "Did you not feel it?" he rasped, remembering how her blood oath would pain her when he was summoned.

She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "I don't feel anything," she replied tonelessly.

Severus sighed, low and long, not understanding. He swallowed. "I have to go to make a report. The house is heavily warded; don't let anyone in. I'll be back very shortly." He took the empty bottle from her and sat it on the table. "Try to sleep," he added, not unkindly. "We'll talk when I return."

He rose and walked toward the door. He was almost out of the room when Hermione found her voice. "Severus?"

He spun around and looked at her, his eyes flat and unreadable. "Yes?"

It took Hermione three deep breaths before she could make herself say the words, "Do you hate me now?" He paused for a moment, and in that moment Hermione almost felt her emotions stirring to life, like cold fingers of death creeping around her throat. "Do you?" she asked again.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he said quietly, "We'll talk when I return. Please try to sleep, Hermione."

With that, he left the room, and Hermione lay on the bed and stared numbly at the ceiling, her dreams and hopes teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Severus knelt at the feet of the Dark Lord and kissed his robe, trying to summon the threadbare remnants of his energy. The day had been more hellish than any he could remember, and his inner shields felt weak and vulnerable. He prayed to those non-existent gods that the Dark Lord might spare him Legilimency this time; he was sure he would not be able to withstand it.

He needn't have worried. The Dark Lord was almost wild with joy at the news of Dumbledore's demise, and at the hand of Snape's tame little witch, no less. Severus glanced over at the Death Eaters present, including Narcissa and Draco.

Bellatrix was there too, of course, with her own particular brand of psychotic malice. Regarding Severus with undisguised loathing, she sneered mockingly, "Oh, look, Cissy. It's the hero of the hour! And where's Mrs. Hero? Too good for us, now that she's made her bones and stolen Draco's moment of glory?"

Draco looked away, shame etched on his profile. Severus merely stared at her, not trusting his voice. The Dark Lord looked down on Severus with gleaming, jolly malevolence. "Yes, Severus, where is your wife, that I may thank her personally for her dedication and accomplishment?"

Severus rose to his feet, the picture of serene smugness. "My wife, alas, my Lord, was not as sufficiently recovered from the loss of our child as I had originally estimated, and her... activities of the evening have proven too much for her. She was so weak, I reluctantly had to send her to bed. She begged for your indulgence, as do I, and she prays you will forgive her this moment of weakness." He looked over at Bellatrix. "It was, as you may recall, Bella, not the first time she's had to come to Draco's rescue in the not-too-distant past."

Narrow-eyed, Bella spat, "You had him! The Carrows and Draco swore it! You stood there and did nothing, like a coward! Why didn't you just do the old fool yourself, Severus?"

He felt impotent bile rise in his throat. "Don't let's be casting aspersions, Bellatrix! When I arrived, Draco was green around the gills and shaking like an aspen. He couldn't have killed an ant crawling on the floor at that point."

"Yes, I'm rather curious about that," The Dark Lord interjected, clearly enjoying the bickering between Severus and Bellatrix. "Why didn't you simply kill Dumbledore, Severus? You of all people had reason and desire to do so." Bella turned from the Dark Lord and gave Severus a gloating look of defiance.

He must be ecstatic, thought Severus. Normally he reigns her in before now. Severus turned to his Master. Hermione, please forgive me. "Because, my Lord, I had agreed to take control of the situation until my wife arrived. She had begged me for the privilege of killing the Headmaster."

Voldemort looked genuinely intrigued. "Did she? And why was that, Severus?"

Severus deftly fell to his knees. It was a graceful, supplicating gesture that he knew would both surprise and please the Dark Lord, who felt Severus' pride was ever his weakness. "So that you would know the depths of our commitment to you, my Lord. As brilliant and as strong a witch as she is, she wanted you to be in no doubt that I, through her, serve you first, last, and forever."

Severus stole a glance at the Dark Lord as he spoke. Voldemort was happy; happier than Severus could remember. It sickened him to think that he had contributed to this happiness at the expense of a fine woman like Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger-Snape.

The Dark Lord was saying, "I think you can ease your little concubine's worries, Severus. Of course I am in no doubt of your loyalties. After tonight, there could be no doubt. The two of you are the Adam and Eve of my brave new world." He smiled hellishly. "Now that Dumbledore is no longer such a disruptive influence, I am sure that the Ministry will come to understand my new vision of the Utopia that will be the Wizarding world, under my protection. There will be all the time in the world to reward you lovely little murderess."

Severus felt sick, hearing that word used to describe Hermione. The desire to be at her side was suddenly overwhelming. She needed him, desperately, while he stood here, preening and fawning. "Your pleasure is reward enough, my Lord."

Voldemort smiled. "Now the boy is truly alone," he gloated. "Once the Ministry is under our control, we begin the immense task of setting the world to rights. We'll start with Hogwarts, of course. The youth of today are the beacons of tomorrow, and must be taught well."

Severus felt a little worm of acid burrowing into his stomach. "As always, we are committed to bringing your vision to reality, my Lord." Ah gods, Dumbledore. What vile cauldron of shit have you dropped us into?

Voldemort nodded. "Quite. And now, to the events of the evening. I have spoken to Draco at length." He gave Draco a withering glare. "A thrilling tale, even seen through the eyes of a coward."

Severus Apparated several blocks away from Spinner's End. He needed to gather his thoughts, and a walk in the freezing night air eased his aching head. He would feel almost himself by the time he arrived at his house. He mentally corrected himself. Theirs. It was their house; his and Hermione's. Merlin knows, he needed to give her as much of himself now as he could.

He passed through the dank empty streets on the wrong end of this dreary town that had raised him. He glanced toward the long-dead stacks rising from the barren mills that had given this sorry little village its name, and gave them a two-fingered salute. And was Jerusalem builded here, among these dark, Satanic mills? he thought.

The devils were definitely driving tonight; the Ministry was being infiltrated even as he walked home. Azkaban had fallen, and the Dementors had been let loose for a bit of blood sport as a reward for their defection to the Dark Lord. By tomorrow, the suicide rate amongst Muggles would be remarked upon in their news reports.

The Death Eaters incarcerated for the Department of Mysteries debacle were already speeding home; Severus had left the manor before he was forced to witness the touching return of Malfoy Senior to the bosom of his loving family. Narcissa would no doubt plan a welcome home celebration soon; Severus could imagine that would be a revel like no other.

As he briskly walked through the freezing night air, he knew what he must do next, and it troubled him. He should have helped Hermione the moment they arrived at Spinner's End, but of course the Dark Lord would want to hear the tale of Dumbledore's death as soon as possible. You can excuse this anyway you want, but for the first time since this madness started again, you were almost glad to be summoned. It disgusted him that he fled from Hermione, preferring to face the Dark Lord, instead of his own suffering wife's helplessness. Filled with shame, Severus stuffed his hands in his pockets and quickened his pace.

He had sacrificed Hermione on the altar of his ego tonight. He had told the Dark Lord she had killed Dumbledore to show that she would do anything to prove her loyalty to Lord Voldemort – and ....

It's you you're talking about, lad. Your wife will do anything to prove her love to you; to save you from Azkaban, from the Dark Lord. From yourself. And tonight she did. She stepped up and did the deed because you couldn't. You couldn't, because, in the end, Dumbledore didn't want you to. He wanted Hermione to do it; to save your worthless Slytherin skin, because let's face it, your spying is worth less than nothing to the Dark Lord now, with Potter's seventeenth birthday mere months away. It was only a matter of time before The Dark Lord tired of the poison Bella poured in his ear, and you'd just be another casualty of war – a forgotten, unmourned casualty at that.

But Hermione wouldn't let that happen, oh no. She's stepped between you and death more than once, and loves you with a passionate loyalty that makes Bellatrix's devotion to the Dark Lord look like nothing more than a fourth-year Hufflepuff fancy at a school dance. No Bellatrix ranting, no Malfoy posturing; just taking a curse meant for me. Participating in a blood oath to keep me sane. Pledging her heart to me in the shell of her dead parent's home. Killing a man so that I wouldn't be branded a murderer. How many times will she throw herself under the wheels of the Knight Bus before you accept the fact that she believes you're worthy?

A sudden wave of self-loathing descended on Severus. He had been prepared to do commit that final, heinous act, had been preparing since the summer day Albus had called him to his side and informed Severus that it must be done. Then, hours before his death, Dumbledore summoned him to make amends, and forgive him in advance for the potion he, Dumbledore, would be forced to ingest in order to retrieve the bloody Horcrux.

Did Albus merely wish to give his final goodbye that afternoon? Or did he deliberately try to weaken his resolve again with his talk of love and forgiveness, so that Hermione would be forced to step in and do the deed to save her husband's face?

As they all stood on the Tower, Severus heard Dumbledore's taunting, Legilimised thoughts: We had a bargain, Madam Snape. Insurance, you will recall. If you truly wish for him to have a chance outside life in Azkaban, you'll keep your side of the agreement we made the day you took Severus as your husband... I am begging this of you... Dumbledore had not bothered to cover up his directed thoughts to Hermione; he had surely wanted Severus to overhear them. The man did nothing without calculation.

So his precious girl had taken his place, so that Severus could appear to be the master manipulator, the one who made her do it, and the Dark Lord's faith in him would be assured - until the next time he found he had no use for Severus.

And Severus had spent so much time cursing the dead man, he'd left his living, loving wife to deal with the after-effects on her own, with no instruction or explanation. And you, you selfish, stupid git, left her suffering at Spinner's End, with the words, 'do you hate me' hanging between us, like a rancid sinew stretched over a rotting limb, because you were too selfish and upset to offer her one word, one gesture of comfort.

Severus entered their house silently, checking the wards until he was sure no one could find them. He was so exhausted he felt ill. He was positively desperate for a drink, but alcohol was the last thing he needed now. Instead, he made himself go to his library. The walls, lined with his most cherished, beloved books, never failed to soothe him, and even after tonight's indescribable events, he felt a measure of calm steal into his heart. At least here he could think and plan.