Unravelling

Disclaimer: Jo owns them; I make them do naughty things.

A/N: Thanks to Nishles for discussing naughtiness and to Sun for your encouragement.

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Severus Snape was no man’s fool, and although only a few days had passed, he was sure that eventually his contact with the Headmistress of Hogwarts would be discovered. He hoped that Minerva would be able to put his information to use and that a proper defense strategy could be worked out in time. Although he had very little in common with most of the members of the Order, and he knew that most of them had merely tolerated his presence under Dumbledore’s explicit orders, he still grudgingly appreciated their bravery and dedication to their cause. He acknowledged that he would never be seen as an equal in their eyes, but he didn’t wish to be regarded as anyone’s equal. In fact, he’d rather not be regarded at all.

He wondered how long it would be before the entire ball of twine was unraveled, leaving only a tangled mess of confusion. He sat on the small wooden desk in the shabby room above the Hog’s Head and pondered the implications of his double life. To be sure, he could feel that the end was swiftly approaching, and not for the first time, he wondered at the outcome. He pressed his fingers to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would somehow bring any form of relief, but relief was elusive tonight. He abandoned that pursuit and began to clear his mind, as he placed his thoughts into the many small and carefully contained compartments within his mind.

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Harry’s rage was palpable as he approached the Hog’s Head under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak. In the semi-darkness, the sound of his Apparating had been masked by the screaming of a train as it hurtled through Hogsmeade Station without stopping. He managed to slip through the door unheeded, and as he ascended the filthy stairs one at a time, he slowly and deliberately withdrew his wand from the folds of his robes. Tonight he would have vengeance. Tonight, retribution would be swift.

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Snape’s practiced Occlumency process had become routine, and on most nights he accomplished it quickly and efficiently. Tonight, however, he lingered over certain memories and images, the ones that caused him greatest pain. He knew that these were particularly powerful in the hands of the wrong people, and he examined them carefully, turning them over in his mind before he enclosed them in his mental boxes and sealed the lids. All save one.

He paid careful attention to a particular memory from his youth, the day that James Potter had hung him upside down with his underpants exposed. To this day, Snape could still feel the wind blowing against his thin white legs as that bastard Potter had toyed with him. The humiliation had stung him then, the feelings of embarrassment and helplessness were overpowering, and later he raged, cursing that his vulnerability had been so cleverly and ruthlessly exploited by his tormentor.

His ire rose as he recalled the taunts of the other students and the barking laughter of Sirius Black as he had urged Potter on. He relived the moment over and over again, not knowing why he was torturing himself this way, but he had been locked in this hovel of a room for much too long and needed something, some release, even if it were merely anger.

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Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and shrunk it with a tap of his wand before he stowed it in his back pocket. He stood outside the door for a moment as he tried to compose himself. He knew only too well that Snape was a most gifted Legilimens, and he had never been able to keep the man out of his head. He recalled again their failed Occlumency lessons in his fifth year, the lessons that Dumbledore himself had instructed. Even now, the memory of Dumbledore’s kindly face as he stood upon the Astronomy Tower that fateful night swam before Harry’s eyes and tore at his heart, as he felt the anger rise inside him like a swirling tide of hatred. In his eyes, Severus Snape was the reason why his mentor was dead, and here he stood, poised on the edge of being able to avenge that death. He did not fool himself into thinking that it would be easy, but he knew that it must be done.

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Snape paused from his musings for a moment and raised his head. He listened carefully and cocked his head to the side as his skin prickled and he sensed... something. Something dangerous, yet strangely familiar. He searched his mind for a connection when...

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Harry fought the urge to kick open the door and create an unnecessary scene. He knew that Snape would have wards up on all the windows and doors, so he concentrated all his anger and rage into a single thought and focused it on the tip of his wand. He released the sum of all his energy with a single exhalation and cast the Reducto Spell. The force of the spell blasted the door open, and he swung into action as he prepared to destroy his enemy.

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Snape turned as the door burst open, and the rush of wind scattered the books and pieces of parchment from the top of the desk. His reflexes as quick as a cat’s, he pulled out his wand, but with a glance he was able to discern the identity of his most unwelcome visitor. As the dust settled around him he saw a single body, male, his wand arm outstretched and pointed directly at Snape’s chest. Snape could feel the hate as it pulsed from his attacker and noted the fierce gleam in his flashing green eyes -- unmistakably Harry Potter.

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Harry stood in the doorframe and regarded the enemy, his wand pointed unwaveringly at Snape's thin chest as he considered his opportunity. Severus Snape -- alone in a dark hole of a room in a cesspool of a tavern on the edge of town. He would kill him in this very room, and he doubted that anyone would find the traitor’s body for many days, a fitting end for a murderous bastard. He stepped into the room, and the force of his anger swept before him, but his wand never wavered as he almost felt pleasure that Snape’s death was mere moments away...

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Snape was both furious at this intrusion and alarmed at the possible implications. Surely nobody in the Order would have let slip the nature of his position there, but for him to be seen in the vicinity of the Potter boy would be most unfortunate for all sides.

‘Finally come to kill me, Potter? Come to avenge your precious Dumbledore’s death? Even your father would have had better sense than that.'

He rose to his full height as he walked around the corner of the desk. He leaned against the firm wood, and although he spoke lazily, he kept a firm grip on both his anger and the wand in his hand. The boy’s rage was unmistakable, and Snape acknowledged that he was more than likely to do something extremely foolish.

Just like his father ...

TBC

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