Year Five: The Broken Fall

But I fear

I have nothing to give

I have so much to lose

Here in this lonely place

Tangled up in our embrace

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall

Fear--Sarah McLachlan

Severus Snape stood before a mirror in his chambers, surveying his appearance. There was a strange nervousness in his stomach, which he dismissed as an absurdity. He smoothed his still-damp hair. His scalp and body felt dry and uncomfortable from the thorough scrubbing he had given himself in preparation for the Yule Ball.

He peered closely at his face. Snape had always known that his looks were distasteful. All of the least appealing features of his parents had been bestowed upon him. His lank hair, thin face, and sallow complexion came from his mother. His hawkish nose, tar-black eyes, and lean, angular body were curses from his father. It had never bothered him to be called "ugly," since he knew it to be true. Therefore, he had never felt the need to care about his appearance. It was perfectly comfortable hiding behind the long, unkempt curtains of black hair and layers of dark clothing. It made him feel invulnerable and fierce. Appealing to anyone had never seemed important. That made it all the more distressing that it should matter now.

For the third time he checked the buttons at his cuffs. His dress robes didn't look much different than his regular robes. They were just cleaner and less worn. There was still a crisp newness to their folds and seams that he couldn't help but enjoy. If it could ever be said that Snape could cut a striking figure, now would be the time. He turned from the mirror to make his way to the entrance hall and oversee the beginning of the evening.

Davindra had agreed to accompany Theodore Nott to the ball, but not without some persuasion. She had come to Snape saying that Nott had asked her, but she was unsure of accepting since she didn't know him and thought his sudden offer peculiar. She admitted with more than an air of disappointment that he wasn't quite who she had in mind. Snape need not even ask to know that the list was probably topped by Draco Malfoy.

"It is barely three days before the ball, Miss Collins," he had told her. "No one fitting your taste has asked you yet. I suggest you take this more than suitable offer. I can vouch for Nott's manners, bloodline, and relative intelligence. You could do much worse."

"I should have gone with George Weasley when he asked me," she had muttered.

"If you could do no better than a half-witted, carnival freak Gryffindor, then you'd be best off to not go at all," he'd retorted.

Davindra accepted Nott's offer but with much less enthusiasm than Snape had seen since the announcement of the ball.

The entrance hall was crowded with people Snape could hardly identify. It seemed that the majority of the students cleaned up nicely, many almost unrecognizable in fact, in their finery. His eyes continued to sweep the hall until he saw someone whose beauty and grace outshone everyone and everything around her. Many other eyes gazed upon her approvingly, though she stood alone, speaking to no one, and looking almost miserable.

Davindra wore a long dress robe of green so dark it almost looked black. An open, plunging neckline exposed an inviting view of satiny, ivory skin. Her hair was drawn into a complicated arrangement held in place with an ornate clasp.

However, her look brightened when Snape approached her. She smiled warmly, and he forgot for a moment that the hall was filled with a noisy crowd.

"Miss Collins," he said softly as he drew close, "you look enchanting." The words had come out before he could stop them, and he quickly recovered by adding an airy, unimpressed look to his face.

But she seemed to know him too well and increased her smile. "You look most dashing also, Professor."

He gave her an unconvinced sneer and returned his gaze to the growing crowd of students.

"Where is Mr. Nott? I hope not backing out of your date."

Davindra began to reply when they both spotted Nott running toward them, his dress robes flapping about him.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I had some trouble getting ready," he panted.

Then he seemed to take in the young woman standing before him. He looked even more impressed than Snape had felt.

"Wow, you really look amazing," he said, still breathless.

Davindra smiled in return but said nothing.

It was time for Snape to leave them on their own, but he couldn't ignore his reluctance. He kept a hard eye on Nott, hoping the boy would recognize it as a reminder of their agreement, but he was still too taken with the beauty of his date to notice anything.

McGonagall called for everyone to go into the Great Hall. Nott offered his arm, and Davindra tentatively took it with a forced smile. Before they got too far, Snape moved close enough to the boy to growl in his ear, "Remember our deal, Nott." Nott gave a nod over his shoulder and continued on.

The Tournament Champions then cued up to make a grand entrance. Snape took a few steps to stand beside McGonagall who gave him an appraising look.

"Why, Severus, you look quite presentable," she said with a touch of a smile.

Snape narrowed his gaze back at the witch. "Minerva, you old flirt."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All during dinner, Snape kept a careful eye in the direction of Davindra and Nott, though it was hard to see well with so many students crowded at each table. They were amongst a group of Slytherins in which Draco Malfoy was seated. He would often sneak an almost wistful look at Davindra when Pansy Parkinson was chattering wildly with someone else. Davindra and Nott spoke some and even laughed a few times, but it was plain that the arrangement was staged and uncomfortable. Davindra obviously wished to be elsewhere, but Nott was thoroughly enough enamored with her to not know what to say or how to act. So he said and did very little.

When the dancing started, they rose with everyone else to take the cursory stroll around the floor. When the more exuberant music began and people paired off to truly let lose and enjoy themselves, Davindra and Nott sat back down.

Though Snape tried to make himself inconspicuous in the Great Hall, Trelawney stumbled upon him, reeking of cooking sherry and flamboyantly commenting that it had been ages since she had danced. Snape made a hasty excuse of needing to do a security check of the courtyard and left.

The courtyard looked as though it had been decorated by a love-sick twelve-year-old girl. Rosebushes, glittering fairies, and bubbling fountains created the perfect place for couples to hide. Snape was in the process of extracting two Hufflepuffs connected at the lips when Karkaroff found him.

"What do you want?" Snape asked irritably.

"I've been wanting to speak with you about something," Karkaroff hissed in a frantic voice. "Your Mark, has it not been changing?"

Snape gave him a careful look. "How do you mean?"

The man went on to explain all the things Snape already knew, though he sounded near hysterics about the possibility of the Dark Lord's return.

"Have you thought what you'll do, Severus?" Karkaroff asked.

"Do when?" Snape replied blandly as he poked a rosebush with his wand.

"When he returns! You cannot tell me you aren't scared."

"Why would I have reason to be afraid?"

Karkaroff gave a nervous laugh. "You? You were the..."

Snape spun around to face Karkaroff squarely. "Now is not the time to talk of these things, Igor," he spoke with warning in his voice. "There is nothing to be afraid of."

The Durmstrang headmaster continued to rant until they were interrupted by Potter and Weasley. Snape was actually glad to see them so he could have a chance to shake Karkaroff.

The rest of the evening was spent prowling the halls and periodically checking on Nott and Davindra, of whom he'd lost track of during one of his rosebush raids. He walked the castle for nearly an hour before he found Davindra alone in the Owlery.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep the surprise and relief out of his voice.

She turned suddenly to him and it was clear, even in the dim light, that she had been crying.

"What happened? What's wrong?" He strode quickly toward her, but she jerked away from him.

"Just stay away from me." Her voice was bitterly cold.

"Was it Nott? What did he do? Tell me!"

"He did nothing but tell me the truth," she spat, giving Snape an eviscerating glare.

'Forget Filch,' Snape seethed inwardly. 'I'll kill him myself.'

Still he played innocent. "What are you talking about?" he asked calmly.

"Theodore told me how you put him up to asking me to the ball and how you said he had to behave himself and show me a good time, or he'd suffer the consequences."

For a moment Snape said nothing but looked at her. Her hair was beginning to come down from its pins, her make-up faded from tears.

"You were the one fretting day in and day out that no one had asked you to the ball." He kept his tone matter of fact.

"But I didn't need you to bribe someone to take me!" she turned and shouted at him. "If no one wanted me, I could at least have gone alone with my head held high. As it is, now everyone will know that you had to pimp out a date for me because I'm too strange and freakish for anyone to want!"

"That's not true," he said quietly.

Large tears spilled down her cheeks which she wiped away angrily with the back of her hand.

"I'm going to be the laughing stock of the entire school. Even Hermione Granger got an honest date with a Quidditch star. I got set up by my Potions teacher!"

"It's not true," he hissed, grabbing her arm so she would look at him and listen. "Though your safety and honor were taken into consideration with this plan, Nott honestly has an interest in you. I noticed it and suggested he ask you. I just included some incentive when he didn't seem to have the courage."

Davindra shoved him hard so that he staggered a few steps back. "You bribed him and blackmailed him!"

"I only tried to give you what you wanted!" Snape shouted back.

"You only wanted to control me!" she screamed. "You couldn't take me yourself so you sent in one of your Slytherin henchman to do your bidding. You spy on me, and watch me, and demand I keep few friends, and no boyfriends, and spend all my time with you."

Her voice then calmed to a hoarse snarl as her glare hardened. "But you won't touch me, you won't come near me. It's like being in prison. I have no freedom, and you and my grandmother plan every move I make and every thing I do. I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of being your puppet!"

Snape watched and listened in stunned silence. He tried to grab her wrist to get her to be still and listen to what he had to say. She didn't understand the danger she could be in. She didn't understand how he was bound to protect her. But the moment he had her slender arm in his grasp, she balled up the fist of her free hand and punched him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"Stay away from me," she growled. "Never touch me again unless you get the guts to do it properly."

While he struggled for a breath, Davindra ran from the Owlery and into the dark night. Shame, dread, anger, and confusion poured over Snape. Quickly he constructed his thoughts. He would give Davindra time to calm down, and then he would convince her that it had all been done with her best interest in mind. She would surely understand reason. But first, he had to find Nott and inflict the most heinous punishment Hogwarts rules would allow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nott insisted that it had been a harmless slip that led to Davindra finding out about their arrangement. He said he only wanted to tell her that he had liked her all along, but in his nervousness he had mentioned Snape's conversation about the ball. She had immediately picked up on the detail and had demanded to know everything. He swore he revealed it all only when she threatened him with an irreversible Bat-Bogey Hex, which he was convinced she could produce. Nott seemed as thoroughly miserable about the matter as Snape, so he let the boy off with cleaning out old flobberworm barrels and a lengthy report on irreversible hexes.

Davindra herself remained scarce during the rest of the holiday. He hardly got glimpses of her during meals, and if she spotted him, she seemed to vanish like smoke. She was truly enraged with him.

When classes resumed, she continued to ignore him, even though he stood in the same dungeon classroom, leaning over her bubbling cauldron, and handing out steadily declining grades. It appeared her animosity toward him was not going to soften so easily.

And yet again, Snape walked into his office to find that someone had tampered with the protective magic he used to safeguard it while he was away. Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody stood in the middle of the room, bold as brass and completely unflustered to be discovered. The one-eyed lunatic then said that Dumbledore had encouraged a search of everyone's office.

Snape heavily doubted it. And his own lack of indignation at the intrusion amazed even him. He had actually been expecting this all year. His certainty that Moody would find nothing out of the ordinary gave Snape a confident feeling of immunity. Also, the knowledge that Dumbledore prized his service above almost anyone at Hogwarts, save Harry Potter, gave bittersweet comfort. Just let Moody try to find fault with him to Dumbledore now.

It was harder to explain how his supply closet had been pilfered once again. Snape wondered why he even bothered with protective magic. He might as well hang an "Open for Business" sign on the front of it for all the traffic it saw. His suspicions turned again to Potter after Snape saw how he conquered the second task of the tournament.

Davindra's grades continued to slip, and her performance in class began to almost make Neville Longbottom look talented. He would have to speak to her. But always after class, she would hurriedly gather her things and leave before he could even announce that he wanted a word with her.

On a restless evening in late February, Snape prowled the halls in hopes of catching her. Eventually, he ended up in the library and happened upon a quiet conversation taking place between Davindra and Draco Malfoy as they sat at a table removed from the other groups of studiers. Stealing behind a row of books, Snape strained his ears to pick up their conversation.

"I felt sorry for Ted," Draco spoke. "Whatever Snape did to him sure made him miserable. Or maybe that was just him nursing a broken heart over you."

Davindra gave her typical unconvinced snort. "I doubt that. He'd never said a word to me, and Snape expects me to believe he's got a crush on me."

"I can vouch for it. Ted doesn't say much, but I've seen him watch you. And when I mention you, he gets all nervous and red in the face."

"Why do you mention me?"

Draco seemed to give a soft chuckle. "Maybe just to see if I can get a rise out of him."

"That's cruel, Draco." But there was amusement in her voice.

"Listen, I'm sorry the ball was a disaster for you. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't have that great of a time either. Pansy and her friends had a flask of dandelion wine they sneaked in." He made a sound of disgust. "She ended up drunk and puking in the bushes."

Davindra laughed out loud. Draco shushed her. Her giggling continued but in a muffled way.

"She's really not that bad most of the time," Draco continued. "She understands a lot of the stuff about me... you know... with my family."

"You mean she's pureblood," Davindra said, no longer laughing.

Draco didn't answer ,and Snape peered through the books only to see the back of the boy's head obscuring the view of Davindra.

"We probably would have had a better time had we gone together," he said finally.

"Yes, well, that's sort of a moot point now, don't you think," Davindra uttered with an edge of bitterness.

"Anytime I even try to get near you anymore, there's Snape giving me the evil eye. What's going on with him?"

There was a sound of indignation before Davindra spoke. "He's been well paid to keep an eye on me by my grandmother."

"Really?" There was a sound of keen interest in Draco's voice. "So that's what all the arranged dating is about. How long has this been going on?"

He was getting too curious, and it was making Snape very nervous. He had to break up this little conversation quickly, but he wasn't sure how without appearing to have been listening in the whole time.

Just as he was about to create a diversion with magic, help arrived in the form of Pansy Parkinson.

"There you are!" she snapped. "We're supposed to doing Herbology homework. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, we're just talking. I lost track of the time, sorry." Draco sounded like a hen-pecked husband already.

"Hi, Petunia," Davindra said brightly.

Snape could see Pansy growing purple with rage and glaring at Davindra who sat calmly smiling.

"It's Pansy, bitch."

"Right," Davindra drawled. "Pansy Bitch, that does ring a bell."

Before a full-blown catfight could ensue, Draco began pulling Pansy away, saying over his shoulder, that he'd talk to Davindra later.

She continued to smirk as she watched the two leave, then went back to the books in front of her with a weary sigh.

Snape counted to twenty before he emerged from the row of books to slide silently beside her table. Her eyes only looked as high as his sleeve, and she knew who it was. Immediately she pulled her open book up to her face.

Clearing his throat before he began, Snape leaned over to see down into her stubborn face.

"Miss Collins, I believe it is time we stopped this nonsense," he spoke very quietly. "Your potion grades are plummeting, and I can only imagine the rest of your work is suffering also."

Still she remained impassive, disregarding his presence only inches from her.

"Professor Flitwick was telling me that you have an interest in becoming a Healer. You do realize that it requires an E in N.E.W.T. level Potions as well as many other classes? You won't even come close if you blow your O.W.L. levels."

Now she dropped her book to glare directly at him. The first time she had acknowledged him in nearly two months.

"So, you're still spying on me."

"I am concerned," Snape said smoothly. "Though you have decided that you are done with me, I still have to answer to your grandmother and my own conscience in regards to your future."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, beginning to gather her books to leave.

Snape grabbed the book in her hand, covering her fingers with his own and forcing her to look into his eyes.

"I regret what happened at the Yule Ball. I wanted to help." He began his second apology for that year with slow deliberate words. "I realize it was an ill-conceived plan. But my intent was never to embarrass or hurt you. You can't honestly understand my position. I know things that you do not. Just let me say that your safety, well-being, and success are my greatest concerns."

"And so now you are hiding things from me also?"

"Trust me that there is nothing of any real interest to tell you. There are just precautions that need to be taken. Many people are taking their safety much more seriously now days. But what you need to be doing is taking your education more seriously."

Davindra dropped the book in her hands, letting it fall to the table with a smack and pulling her fingers out of his grasp. She sat back in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms.

"Miss Collins, you are a very intelligent girl. There is no reason for you to be almost failing my class. I don't know if this is just your way to punish me or if you are truly distressed enough that your concentration is gone. But whatever it is, I'm sure, I could help you, if you will only let me."

Still she sat ridged and angry. Snape was growing tired of groveling.

"Although I don't want to, Miss Collins, I will go to your grandmother about this if you don't cooperate." He spoke more softly but with a dark manner. "What would she say if you miserably failed your O.W.L.s?"

Though she didn't break her stoic pose, she did look at him with resentful eyes, knowing that she was cornered.

"I promise to keep in mind that you loathe me infinitely during this whole process, and if you wish to discontinue our studies next year, then I will help plead your case to Madame Collins. But in the mean time, you are in a dangerous downward spiral. Don't keep making me give you grades that are not indicative of the talent we both know you have."

She now looked at him with resigned fury. Her eyes locked on to his, and she leaned in to speak.

"Alright, I'll let you help me." Her voice was low but bitter and sharp. "But I'm warning you, stay out of my social life and stay out of my head."

She stood up and again gathered her books. "Friday at six alright?" she asked.

"Perfect," he purred with a twitch to his eyebrow.

She left without a backward glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she showed up at his office in a sour, sullen mood and spoke very little. Snape immediately set about with quizzing her over the work they had covered since the beginning of the year. She answered every question correctly without hesitation or enthusiasm. Finally, he set the book aside and looked at her from across his desk.

"Miss Collins, how is it that you can answer any question I pull out of this book, but you fail to be able to write a coherent essay or produce an even passable potion?"

She kept her expression blank as she returned his interrogating gaze.

"You've been doing this just to annoy me." He kept his voice calm and silky despite the anger he felt. "You know you are only hurting yourself. What are you planning on doing, failing your O.W.L.s and destroying your possibilities for the future just to get back at me? That is very childish. I expected better of you, Miss Collins."

Though she didn't speak to defend herself, Snape knew he had bested her. Her pretense was foiled. Finally she couldn't hold his gaze anymore and looked off into the corner, remaining silent.

Snape continued his visual scrutiny and was about to cast himself into her mind to see what she might be thinking at that moment since she would not say. But the command had been barely formed and the edges of her thoughts only faintly visible to him when she shouted, "Stop!"

She sat forward, glaring in hostility. "I told you to stay out of my head," she spoke through a clenched jaw.

Indeed a startling display of Occlumency skills he wasn't aware she possessed. He couldn't help but be impressed. Snape gave a twitch of his eyebrow and a wave of his hand in yielding. Again they were plunged in silence. Davindra sat back in her chair, sinking into the corner, her arms crossed tightly.

A sudden wave of fatigue swept over Snape. It seemed like his battles never ended; they were only added to. As if on cue to remind him of the most pressing of these, his ever-awakening Dark Mark twinged and without thinking, he absent-mindedly scratched his left forearm.

"Davindra, what do you want from me?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped to him. "That's the first time you've called me anything but 'Miss Collins' in three years."

"What do you want?"

More silence, but at least she looked at him, into him even. Her pale eyes appeared to be trying to swallow him up, and he felt breathless and confined, but mesmerized. Reaching up, she slowly pushed a few strands of black hair from her eyes, never breaking their look. It was a familiar habit he had seen many times but which never failed to hypnotize him.

"I want honesty," she said with a breathy quietness.

"And you believe I have been dishonest?" he replied.

"I believe you hide things from me."

"What makes you think I have any obligation to disclose myself to you?"

"Is there anyone here you trust more than me?" She asked this with great seriousness.

Snape was taken aback with the familiar question. He laughed at the absurdity of the idea. But before the sound had died on his lips, it occurred to him that she had made a very astute comment. Everyone and everything around him was divided into areas of black or white, good or bad, with the Dark Lord or with Dumbledore. She was the only person whose only allegiance seemed to be with him. Whoever or whatever he was didn't seem to be an issue. He recalled the examination of her emotions for him and the unwavering faith she seemed to have in him for no other reason than she loved him, right or wrong. It was an extraordinary rarity for him to be at the center of such unbridled devotion.

Still she stared, awaiting his answer.

"What do you want to know?" he asked quietly.

Davindra took a breath and began. "Why did you insist that Nott take me to the ball?"

"To ensure that you didn't associate with the wrong sort."

"And who is the wrong sort?"

"There are many here not worthy of your time or attention and several who could even be considered dangerous."

"Like who?"

"I will not say at this time."

"Is there someone at Hogwarts that you need to protect me from?"

"Perhaps."

"Who?"

"I will not say at this time."

She glared hard at him. He returned cool, impassive eyes normally reserved for the Dark Master himself.

"What has my grandmother paid you this year to tutor me?"

"She's paid me with information."

"What information?"

"I will not say at this time."

"Is that why you do it? For the money or the rewards?"

"No."

"Have you made an Unbreakable Vow?"

"No."

"Why then?"

"It's complicated."

"Is she blackmailing you?"

"No."

"Then WHY?"

"Loyalty."

"To who?"

Snape felt his throat close tightly on any words that he might attempt to say. Who indeed. Where did his loyalties lie? Suddenly he wasn't even sure.

"To those who expect it from me," he finally uttered, not doing as well to hide the bitterness as he had wished.

"I never asked for this, Professor," she said.

"Didn't you? I seem to recall a very eager first-year coming into my office clutching a floxinium dragon seed and bartering like an accomplished broomstick salesman."

"That wasn't my idea."

"You could have fooled me."

"She said we needed you. She told me you were important. She made you sound bigger than life to me."

There was an almost desperate, pleading look in her eyes as she spoke.

"Then we've both been fooled," Snape remarked.

"Haven't we."

They stared at one another across the desk. The only sound was the echoed creaking of the castle around them and their own slow breaths.

"One more question, Professor. Why have you never mentioned what you saw it in my mind last year?"

Snape pulled the heavy mask of calm, impassive apathy down around him.

"I've seen nothing that bore mentioning."

A fleeting look of pain flitted across her eyes before she turned her face from him so he could see no more of her emotions.

"There is no more need to punish me nor yourself, Miss Collins. You will easily pass your O.W.L.s with reasonable effort on your part, if you only wish it to be."

Again they shared a silent moment of penetrating looks before Davindra rose from the chair and left his office without a another word or glance in his direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn't exactly true to say that Davindra warmed to him after their meeting, but an uneasy truce did ensue. At least once a week she would appear at his office and take her place in the corner to quietly study. Occasionally she would ask questions or request that he quiz her, but often she would spend the whole evening in silence. Sometimes Snape would look up from his work to find her staring at him in a sad, uneasy way, which she would end the moment his eyes would find hers.

He should have felt worse for the way he had callously dismissed her most sacred emotions for him, but after allowing her such access to his own with her barrage of questions, he felt justified. Knowing too much would be disastrous for them both.

Often their times together were rather lonely with the pulsating stillness between them. He found himself wishing for the days when she talked too energetically or found frivolous reasons to stand close to him. The distance between them now seemed vast and impossible to breech. Snape had even tried an experiment where he pretended to need something from the shelves directly next to her. He had to squeeze behind her stool and stand with his back nearly pressed against hers. But she didn't respond to his presence, and he soon abandoned the effort, feeling foolish and juvenile.

Karkaroff continued to hound him about the stirring of the Dark Mark and what he should do when the Dark Lord returned. Snape attempted to dodge him when he could and when he couldn't, talk him down from his hysterical ledge. Moody was still Moody, clomping around, eyeing everyone excessively and claiming his rights as an Auror gave him unlimited access to all things and all people. Dumbledore didn't appear to disagree and seemed to spend a great deal of time alone.

Harry Potter had managed two tasks with amazing luck, and now the entire school stood by to support him. However, the press was having a deliciously entertaining field day with him. Rita Skeeter had even attempted an interview with Snape about the Boy Wonder. He would have happily given one, expressing all his unfiltered opinions about the pompous brat, but Dumbledore had forbidden any of the teachers to talk to the press about anything. Rita had attempted a very enthusiastic persuasion at the Three Broomsticks, where she had cornered him. Had he perhaps been more desperate for company, he might have given in. But his desperation hadn't been that great since Azkaban.

As the spring began to bloom around them, Snape noticed that nearly all the couples formed for the Yule Ball had fractured or been remixed in some form. Even Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson appeared to be on an out with each other. More than likely it was because Draco was seen in the company of Davindra on several occasions, much to Snape's discomfort. All he could do was keep a careful eye peeled for them in the halls and on the grounds.

Nothing specifically stood out about their time together. It seemed to be friendly chatting and smiles for the most part. But Snape knew Davindra and her enticements, just as he knew Draco and his weaknesses as well as his strengths. No other letters had arrived from Madame Collins suggesting further reason for worry, but that didn't put Snape's mind at ease. There was still much to be wary of in regards to that budding relationship.

He attempted to ask Davindra about her involvement with Draco, but she shut him out immediately with a reminder that he was to stay out of her personal life. She forced him to do the only thing he knew. The Vision Well that he had resurrected but not intended to use was once again brought into service.

Snape tried his best to keep a visual on her at all times. In the evenings, when not with him, she could usually be found studying for her O.W.L.s. But one night she could be found nowhere. The library and study halls were packed with everyone in fifth year but her. He was told that she wasn't in the Ravenclaw common room and hadn't been seen for some time.

With dread and a hollow pit in his stomach, he went back to his office. Snape leaned down into the shallow Well and felt himself pulled in with a stinging smack. The fog around him swirled, and he waited for it to clear only to be found still in the dark. The room was nearly black except for dim light coming through the outside windows. It was a classroom, one that seemed to be rarely used. His ears suddenly picked up rustling and breathing. Finally his eye adjusted enough to see the entwined form of two people against a table. Davindra had to be one. When the light caught the pale hair of the other, Snape knew it was Draco Malfoy.

His heart beat madly in his chest, and he tried to reach out and pull the two bodies apart, but his arms and hands were useless. He was helpless to watch as their lips pressed together feverishly, Draco's hands clasping Davindra's body against his, her hands twisted in his colorless hair. Breathy moans escaped her as the boy's mouth traveled down her throat and his fingers began to fumble with the buttons of her shirt. Snape thought that surely she would stop him, not allow him to take such forward liberties. But she only thrust her chest forward, giving him easier access. Quickly the shirt was pulled open to expose a pale bra, the binding amulet, and skin that shown like silver in the faint moon and star light.

Draco's hand moved over her breast, cupping and kneading it against his palm. His fingers began to stroke the straps of the bra that shielded her from his touch.

Snape's mind was moving fast despite feeling stunned and horrified at the vision before him. But not as fast as Draco seemed to be going. Snape sent himself back to his chambers, hardly noticing the sting of the return. He was too consumed with rage and disgust to feel anything so corporally base.

As soon as he found his grounding again, he stormed from his room and began a mad flight to the first set of rooms he came to. They could be anywhere. There were countless classrooms. He forced himself to think of what he had noticed of the room and where it could be. Whipping open the first door he came to, he peered inside and found it empty and dark, smelling of dust and disuse. He went on to the next, his wand raised and a flurry of curses on his breath. Nothing was found.

It had been several minutes. How much farther had they gotten? Visions of the horrific dream the dark calming draught had given him were reforming in his mind. Snape could see her legs wrapped around the boy, his hands sliding up them.

With a snarl he stormed on to another hall, one situated close to the stairway to the Ravenclaw Tower. He had a hopeful, anxious feeling about this area. Silently he proceeded, listening with every fiber of his being. The first classroom was empty. The second door, he pressed his ear to. Something rustled, a table leg scooted against the stone floor.

The door flew open at his command, nearly coming off its hinges as it banged inward. Draco and Davindra both jumped as if hit with hexes. His shirt hung open and untucked as he stood in front of Davindra, still on the table, attempting to hide her semi-nakedness while peering over Draco's shoulder at Snape.

He felt as though he could strike them both dead at that moment. Draco started to speak, but Snape shoved his wand in the boy's face to silence him before he began.

"Not a word," he said through clenched teeth. "You embarrass and disgust me. To your room now. And starting tomorrow night, you have detention until the end of the year."

"End of the year!" Draco protested. "Professor, this really isn't... it's not... "

"Unless you would like it to carry over to next term, I suggest you move, Malfoy!" His fury wouldn't hold much longer if the boy did not get out of his sight.

No doubt, Draco was not used to this kind of abuse from a teacher he believed to have in his pocket simply because Snape was friends with his father. But Snape would deal with any arguments from Lucius Malfoy later. Now he simply wanted to be rid of the hormonal brat and deal with the real problem at hand.

The young man started to move, buttoning his shirt, when he stopped and looked at Snape. "You won't tell anyone, will you, Professor? My father, the other students... "

Davindra gave an incredulous look of shock and outrage to the boy who would not meet her eyes.

"A truly chivalrous concern, Malfoy," Snape said with silky venom. "If only you had thought of it before you began this little affair. Now get going. I'll take care of Miss Collins."

Draco walked from the room and disappeared down the hall. Snape turned back to Davindra who stood with her shirt tightly wrapped around her body and a look of embarrassed acrimony. He realized he still had his wand raised in her direction, so then lowered it.

They stood staring at one another. Snape's mind was a chaotic jumble of vengeance, jealousy, and rage he wanted to enactment upon her. He wasn't sure which one would win out, but he would decide in due time.

Without speaking he grabbed her arm and began the march to his office.

"Where are you taking me?" she finally asked when she saw the way was clearly not toward the Ravenclaw tower.

He didn't answer, for he was afraid that when he did finally open his mouth, he might not be able to control what came out. Simple answers were not possible right now.

Soon she could see where they were headed to and gave a slight sound of apprehension and attempted to walk slower. A violent jerk brought her up to pace.

Throwing her inside his office, Snape slammed the door behind them and began a frenetic pace around the room. Davindra sank into the corner, as though wishing to disappear from the situation. With nervous fingers she buttoned her shirt and straightened her clothes.

After several moments, when he felt he could speak, Snape began in a low, deathly calm voice as he stomped around the furniture in an attempt to hide the shaking of his body.

"What exactly was the point of this evening's little tryst? Were you just trying to infuriate me, or are you really that interested in proving yourself an easy piece of ass for Mr. Malfoy's benefit?"

She glared at him from the safety of her corner. "If you're going to give me detention or report me to Professor Dumbledore, can we just get on with it?"

Snape spun about to cast her a vehement stare. "Oh, no, you will have no authority in this. I've allowed you too much control for far too long. It will stop tonight."

He continued his pacing of the room, his mind a whirling mass of confusion laced with frightening impulses.

"How often have you sneaked off to have dark liaisons with Mr. Malfoy or anyone else for that matter?" he asked.

"Since you've been spying on me, you should already know that!" she accused angrily.

"And if you didn't want to be caught, you wouldn't have worn the amulet," he raged back. He realized too late that he had given away his secret. "Besides, it is my right to know what goes on in this school, especially where my students are concerned," he added defiantly.

Davindra pulled the amulet from inside her shirt and looked at it accusingly. "So that's what this gift was all about."

"Oh, stop acting like you haven't wanted me constantly looking at you," he spat. "For years now you've paraded yourself in front of me in every conceivable way in hopes that I would take notice of you."

She scowled bitterly at him. "You're depraved."

She attempted to cross the room and reach the door, but Snape was in front of it, blocking her way before she was half way there.

"That is exactly what you have wanted me to think," he hissed. "You and that psychotic hag of a grandmother have done nothing but try to play me for a fool from the very beginning."

Suddenly the plan seemed very clear. He had been a fool. He had allowed himself to be beguiled by his most base and primal urges. They had administered careful manipulation of his dreams, thoughts, and desires all along. They had plotted to make his life nothing but torment and agony for their own benefit from the moment she stepped foot in his classroom.

"Do you know what hell I have lived through because of you?" he continued to unleash his fury upon her. "Do you want to know what hell is, Miss Collins? Five years of gut wrenching nightmares and hallucinations in which I had become the worst kind of deviant, preying on my own students."

Davindra began to back away from his menacing form. Her wide eyes held him in horrified wonder.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said. "I've never done anything to you."

Snape moved forward still. "Haven't you? What were all those accidental touches and looks? What were the innocent kisses and clutching embraces? Surely you were never that demonstrative with any of your other teachers. No, I think not."

She was now pressed back into the corner, unable to escape his cutting words or his vicious, accusing stare. Honest fear now leaped from her eyes, and her breaths came quick and short.

"Twelve years old and you knew exactly what you were doing climbing onto my bed," he growled lowly.

"I... no... I never... I told you," she stammered, near tears.

Snape's hand closed around her delicate throat, and he found himself squeezing gently until she made a strangled sound and he released his grip. "You've never been an innocent little girl, have you, Davindra?" His voice was now a desolate, evil whisper. "What are you?"

Exhibiting surprising strength, Davindra suddenly drove her knee up into his groin. Snape released her and crumbled to his knees with a gasp of shock and pain. But he was quicker with his wand than she was and had the door locked and secured before she reached it.

She pounded on the heavy wood and pulled on the handle, which didn't budge despite her angry grunts and curses.

Slowly Snape rose, moving tenderly and struggling to get his breathing under control while blocking out the pain. At least her sudden assault on him had brought him back to reality, cleared his head, and given him a moment to truly understand the situation. Despite the sharp pain between his legs, which had begun to ebb to a dull ache, it was suddenly obvious what he should do. A feeling of calm lucidity filled him. Everything was finally so clear.

"How dare you," he said in a quiet rasp. "After all I've done for you, after all these years. After all the promises that have been made to me which never materialized. After all I've endured and sacrificed, this is how you repay me." He moved closer to her as she continued to pull at the door, though her eyes were on him.

"I don't appreciate you giving away for free to Draco Malfoy what I have been indentured for all these years." Still his voice was calm, but icy. "Your grandmother saw fit to prostitute you to me from the very beginning in exchange for my services. You were brandished in front of my face like an illicit bribe kept just out of reach. And you played your part so well. Tempting me at every turn, driving me to madness." His fingers reached out to stroke her cheek. She flinched at his touch.

"I think it's time I collect on the debt."

Her eyes widened at his words, and her mouth opened to protest, but Snape had grabbed her arms and turned her in the direction of his chambers before she could form a reply. He shoved her down the dark, narrow staircase, his wand giving scant light to the murky depths. Though she stumbled, he pushed her on until they were through the door.

When the door closed, Snape commanded every protective spell he could think of to keep all sound in and people out. With his wand he drew the outline of the door and slashed an X through it. Nothing would disturb them now.

Davindra stood shivering in the dark, cold room. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and her eyes flitted about the walls and corners as if looking for an escape route. As he approached, she turned her frightened stare to him.

"Professor, don't do this." Her voice was a sad whisper. "Please, not this way."

Snape shrugged his robe off and tossed it onto a chair. "But isn't this what you've always wanted? You said if I were to ever touch you again, it had to be done properly. Or would you really prefer Draco Malfoy's inexperienced fumblings?" He spoke casually, his heart finally beginning to quicken with the thought of what he was about to do.

"But not like this," she said desperately. "You know how I feel, you've seen. It shouldn't be like this!"

Snape trailed his wand down the long line of buttons on his coat, which fell open at his command. The coat landed in the same spot as his robe.

Davindra continued to back away from him as he approached.

"This is no longer about what you want," he replied. "It is what I want and what you owe me."

With a snap reflex he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, the feel of her warm, quaking body vivid against the thin fabric of his shirt. Taking her face in his hands, he stared deep into those ice-jade eyes he had felt trapped inside of for five years. He knew them so well. She stared back, wide-eyed with fear and fascination.

He could stop, he told himself. But all the gold in Gringotts didn't seem worthy of what he was about to have. If he hated himself tomorrow, so be it. Tonight he would finally know release from his self-sentenced prison.

Snape crushed his lips to hers and roughly forced his tongue into the soft, wet depths. Her protests were muffled, and her struggles were limited against his arms. She tasted soft and sweet, her body felt small against him. And although his technique was forced and brutal, eventually she allowed herself to become pliant in his hands. Then she no longer struggled against him at all and seemed to wilt into his arms. It allowed him to let his hands travel about her body as he tasted her lips, face, and neck. All the years of watching her had made her body a familiar map in his mind. Now there was the sensation of touch to add to all the knowledge he possessed about her beauty.

Somehow they had moved against a wall. Snape pinned her between the cold stone and his own body. Once more, but with weak reluctance, Davindra's hands attempted to push away from him. But his strength and desire overpowered her. Vague whispers of "no" and moans of "don't" came from her between his assaulting kisses, which he ignored and pressed on.

He began pulling at her clothing, not bothering with magic or buttons to free her from them. Satisfying rips and pops sounded as they gave way to expose her satiny, alabaster skin. He raked his fingers over the same spots Draco had dared touch not long before. He wanted to claim her as his own, mark her as his. But what if he were not the first? What if someone else had already taken that honor? Cold dread twisted through Snape's gut at the thought. If it were true, then someone would pay a heavy price for their thievery.

There was a rhythmic moaning that Snape suddenly realized was his own as he ground his insistent erection against Davindra's hip. He could have her right there, against the wall, and be satiated. The desire to rush, take, and satisfy was driving him. But a need to savor and enjoy called to him. This might very well be the only time he would get to experience taking something so pure that he wanted so badly and that was intended for only him. No, he would relish every exquisite second of his conquest.

Taking her wrists in hand, Snape dragged the stumbling girl to his bed. It had not been made since he last slept in it. He only allowed the Hogwarts house-elves in once a month to clean. He preferred his own filth to someone else's rummaging of his possessions.

Pushing her onto the bed, he began a frenzied stripping of the rest of her clothes. Strangely, she didn't fight him, but let her body be limp and agreeable to his directions. The last thing he removed was the binding amulet that hung between her pale, round breasts. Finally, she sat bare on the edge of his bed, her dark curtain of hair falling over her shoulders and into her eyes. Snape could have melted into a puddle from the perfect sight before him. When he reached out to touch her, he noticed a slight tremor in his hand that he wasn't sure emanated from desire or fear. His fingers traveled her body, exploring every hollow, plane, and angular bone, every expanse of supple skin, and the long, lush cascade of hair.

Pushing her back onto the bed, Snape hovered over her form, again drinking in the beauty before him. Falling upon her, he buried his face against her firm breast, his tongue memorizing the shape and taste of her delicate nipple and his fingers tracing the line of her ribs. A strangled whimper came from Davindra when his mouth touched her, but she didn't move.

His hands then traveled down to her hips and the soft, firm flesh of her backside. He thrust himself against her until he thought he would burst at any moment. Instead his fingers moved on to the downy, dark area between her legs. This time she did squirm and writhe away from him. But his strength was at a zenith and could not be challenged. Two fingers found their goal, and she gave out a shaky cry as he penetrated her. Disjointed adjectives swept his mind as he tried to comprehend what he felt. 'Warm. Tight. Damp. Soft.' He wanted to bodily crawl inside. But he intended to do the closest thing.

Fumbling with one hand, Snape freed his weeping, hard shaft from his trousers and pressed it against the spot just abandoned by his fingers. Davindra attempted to wiggle free, but he held her firm. He wanted to look into her eyes as he entered her, see her face as he claimed her.

As he attempted to push inside, she cried out, and he was surprised at the resistance her body gave. A couple more slow, forceful shoves, and he felt the flesh around him give away to accommodate. Her gasps and groans were now accompanied by damp eyes and a bitten lip.

"Oh, indeed I am the first," he breathed raggedly with satisfaction into her ear.

'Slowly, slowly,' he reminded himself. He must savor this precious thing. Looking down into Davindra's face, Snape saw her staring back in watchful wonder and surprise, a single tear sliding back into her hairline. His strokes were measured and purposeful, her breath caught with every one. She kept locked on his gaze. Her lips seemed to move in silent words he could not hear.

Slowly, he became aware of the unexpected sensation of her hand on his back. She had slipped under his shirt and was stroking his skin. Her other hand came up, and her fingers pushed the hair from his face, then pulled him down to her. He was startled and surprised by her sudden participation and not completely sure how he felt about it. But he partook of the offered lips and kissed her hotly until the insistent, building orgasm could no longer be held back.

When he was released, Snape could have sworn the outside world narrowed to a pin-prick in his head and nothing else existed outside of it. Ricocheting waves of pleasure spasmed through him until he felt empty and weak.

As consciousness again settled on him, he found himself still laying on Davindra, his face buried against her neck. The scent of her filled his nostrils and her hair wrapped about him like a silky cocoon. Again he was aware of her hands gently stroking his back. Self-conscious of his body and any vulnerability she might assume he now had, he rolled off to lie beside her and stare into the ceiling of the cold, stone room.

She said nothing and, like him, stared at the ceiling. The only sound was their slowing breaths. Several minutes passed with neither speaking. Snape desired the silence and found himself both wanting her gone and wishing to reach out and pull her to him. His brain seemed to be filled with an annoying buzz, and he found it hard to think clearly.

The bedclothes rustled as Davindra turned on her side to face him, but he refused to look. Her hand touched his shoulder, tentative fingers creeping to caress his collarbone.

"So that's it?" she asked softly.

Snape didn't reply. He wasn't sure he even could.

"It hurt, but I suppose it does get better?" There was a hopeful strain to her voice.

Putting forth every effort to find his own voice, Snape swallowed. "That depends," he managed flippantly.

She moved closer. He could feel the length of her against him. Her chin nestled against his shoulder.

"Was it what you thought it would be?" Her voice was oddly analytical. "I'm not sure that it's exactly like I imagined. It must it take work. Practice. You could teach me." There was a silky warmth to her voice as her hand moved down his chest to wrap around his waist.

"I spend enough time tutoring you, Miss Collins. My schedule is full."

The feel of her lips against his jaw drove any further remarks from his head. When he turned, she kissed him passionately. Her lips parted to seductively invite him in. Her tongue met his and then took him in deeper to suck hungrily. If she had returned his kisses with this kind of fervor in the beginning, he would not have lasted as long as he did.

'Where did she learn to kiss like this?' Snape's thoughts spun as he felt his desire renew. 'Malfoy.' His mind spat out the name and image like a bitter poison. Pushing her away, he sat up on the edge of the bed and began to straighten the clothes he had not bothered to remove during his ravaging of her.

"I'm bleeding," Davindra said with a bit of shock.

Snape glanced back to see a stain of blood on the sheet and smears on her pale thighs.

"Don't worry; it's quite normal," Snape said calmly. "I would have expected no less."

"It only happens the first time, right?" she asked, wiping at her legs with his sheet.

Snape found his wand and waved it over her and the sheet to vanish the tell-tale blood. Then he looked down at himself to see that he too wore the stains of her virginity. For some reason he didn't wish to clean himself, but tucked his now flaccid, damp penis away inside his trousers.

"Get dressed. I have to somehow get you back to the Ravenclaw tower," he said curtly.

He felt her body drape across his back, her hands encircled his waist and her lips brushed his ear.

"Can't I just stay here with you tonight?"

"No!" Snape barked as he shoved her back from him. "Now get dressed."

Snape stood but found his knees were weak and his head light. Davindra stayed wrapped in his bedclothes as he searched around his chambers for the various pieces of their clothing. Several of hers needed repair, and he did the best he could so she would not turn up at her dormitory looking like she had been attacked.

After Snape had thrown every last piece of her clothing at her and again ordered her dressed, Davindra finally obeyed, though with very slow hands.

Once reasonably put together, they made their way to the Ravenclaw tower. The walk was silent and punctuated by Davindra's sidelong glances at Snape, which he would not return. At the portrait Snape, much to Davindra's surprise, asked that Flitwick be awakened. While they waited, Davindra eyed him with enough venom to strike him dead.

"You have a choice, Miss Collins," he said with dim smile. "You can promise me, on your life, that you will never breathe a word of this to anyone, or I can Obliviate you right now. Which will it be?"

She looked at him with stunned fury. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to speak.

"I won't say anything."

"Do you promise? Swear on your life?" he pressed.

"Yes, I swear."

"See that you keep that promise."

Flitwick arrived in his dressing gown and night cap, looking worried and grumpy. Snape informed him that he had found Davindra out after curfew, probably attempting some extra study time before exams.

"Miss Collins, I am quite surprised and shocked at this behavior. Do you know how dangerous it is out at night?" Flitwick snapped. "Off to bed with you now, and in the morning we will be having a long talk about rules and their importance." Nodding to Snape as he turned to lead Davindra into the common room, he added, "Thank you for your prompt action on this, Professor Snape."

"It was my pleasure," Snape said silkily.

Davindra took one last look back to dispense a death glare. Snape couldn't have suppressed his wicked smile if his life had depended on it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape awoke in the morning feeling as though he had drunk an entire bottle of Firewhisky. His aching, naked body was tangled in sheets that still smelled of Davindra. It all came rushing back to him, and he lay back down with a groan of horror.

He placed the heels of his hands against his swollen, tired eyes and said, "Oh, why did you do it, you ruddy, stupid fuck!" to only himself.

For a few more minutes he lay in bed, steeping in remorse and guilt. Why had he allowed things to get that out of control? Why had he allowed himself to sink to the lowest level? He realized that it had all been a matter of time in the making. Eventually he would have snapped, and it would have happened anyway. It had to be that he was just looking for an excuse. Last night he found one. For once he hadn't been concerned with consequences. Which was good and well for enjoying what he had. But now he would have to deal with the backlash. He would have to ensure that this latest dirty little secret of his stayed hidden and, more importantly, wasn't repeated. However, it wasn't only himself he needed worry about. He would have to stay vigilant of her.

Pulling himself out of bed, he finally washed the last traces of her from his body, though he still caught hints of her wafting around him during the day. It was unclear if he would be permanently stained with her scent as a mark of guilt or if it was just manufactured by his own mind.

With O.W.L.s so close, Davindra was kept distracted from her attentions of Snape. Though her looks were long and full of expectation, she didn't dare confront him during class or with anyone around. During breaks and in the evenings, she along with her fellow students were too engrossed in feverish studies to think of anything else.

The third task of the Triwizard Cup loomed ahead also. Dumbledore seemed to be feeling greater concern for this last event than any of the previous. Snape even had to admit that there was an uneasiness in the air. His Dark Mark had been growing increasingly bothersome, as was Karkaroff who seemed near insanity at times. The strange disappearance of Barty Crouch was the final odd twist to the unfolding suspicious events.

Snape watched the proceedings of the O.W.L.s from a distance. Students always emerged looking stunned and exhausted from their hearings. After her Transfiguration exam, Davindra was seen walking the hall like a zombie, murmuring something about her teacup still having ears.

The last task of the Triwizard Cup took place on a clear, beautiful evening outside of the now maze-covered Quidditch pitch. Snape took his place in the stands with other faculty and staff. He had just been thinking how glad he would be when it was all over and the extra people would leave and he could return to Spinner's End for a much need solitary rest.

A strange silence descended over the field after the champions went in. Everyone seemed anxious and nervous. Dumbledore paced and stared at the overgrown hedges as if attempting to look through them. It wasn't long before red sparks signaled one of the champions' defeat. He hoped it was Potter. Then later again, another champion fell. It appeared that Diggory and Potter were fighting it out to the end. Snape had a dreadful feeling that Hero Potter would again come out victorious.

Time ticked on quietly and everyone waited. Suddenly the Dark Mark on Snape's arm burned like a branding iron, causing him to jump up and clutch his sleeve. People around him stared, and he brought every ounce of composure into play as he excused himself and left the stands. Away from prying eyes, he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Mark in darkest black and burning like fire. It was the call. One he hadn't received in thirteen years.

Panic swept through him as he thought of what to do. He looked around to observe that Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. Quietly and calmly he sidled up to the fidgeting Dumbledore and whispered into his ear.

"The Dark Mark has been activated. I've been summoned."

Dumbledore turned to give him a startled but fierce look. "You're certain." His voice was firm.

Snape nodded darkly. "Karkaroff has disappeared. I imagine he has fled in fear."

The Headmaster looked around to see for himself. "We've got to find Harry and Cedric."

Calling Hagrid, McGonagall and several others, he ordered them to find the last two champions in the maze. Several more minutes passed by with an eerie silence now tinged with the electricity of fear.

Snape's Mark burned and writhed in its unanswered call. He felt nervous and fearful in ignoring it. But Dumbledore had not told him to leave. He felt reluctant to do so on his own. Ignoring it would mean his death, but so could answering it.

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and Harry, Cedric, and the Triwizard Cup appeared out of oblivion at their feet. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the crowd ignorantly erupted in cheers. But Dumbledore hurried over and knelt next to the prostrate boys. Cedric wasn't moving and Potter seemed hysterical. Snape caught bits of Potter's strangled words. "He's back, he's back."

It was true. Snape needed no more convincing to believe the worst. And the worst still was yet to be uncovered. "Mad Eye" Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr. under Polyjuice Potion and the primary orchestrator of Potter's entry into the tournament. It was meant to bring the boy to the Dark Lord for the purpose of implanting his withered spirit into a body and destroying the one person who could possibly defeat him. He was now flesh and blood, but still immortal.

The Minister of Magic, Fudge, would not be so easily convinced. He had not heard the story from Crouch's lips. But even if he had, he might still have found reason to disbelieve. As it was, he had Crouch sucked soulless by Dementors before anyone could protest. He would be of no use to anyone anymore. Snape couldn't remember ever seeing McGonagall so livid with rage. And Dumbledore was no happier about it.

Not even the display of Snape's Dark Mark was proof enough for Fudge. He left Hogwarts even more embedded in his delusion that all was still safe and that the faculty of the school had lost their minds.

After the Minister left, Dumbledore began to give his orders.

To Snape he turned and spoke, "You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... If you are prepared."

Snape kept a steady eye and a firm posture, though he felt his insides turn to water. "I am."

He swept from the castle, black cloak and mask in hand. Finding the best spot from which to Apparate, Snape closed his eyes and said a quick prayer to whomever might control the fates from above and cast himself into the heart of darkness.