Chapter Twenty Nine - His Red Right Hand (Part 1)

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: I never thought I would say this... but this chapter has a dubcon warning involving Hermione. This fic, which I have affectionately named 'monster,' has demanded this to be done. Feel free to give me your honest opinion.

-I understand that if I updated more often this fic would be easier to read. Some recommended chapter rereads are Seven, Twelve, and Fifteen (Part 2).

-My beta, Melusin, is full of awesome.

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It had taken Ginny a few agonizing, hazy moments to realize that the pained, groaning sounds filling her bedroom had been issuing from her own mouth.

If she could only make it to the bathroom and locate a hangover potion, she'd rid herself of the disorientating pounding against the inside of her skull.

Every inch of her body was sticky with sweat. Disgusted, Ginny made a move to roll over, simultaneously kicking the covers away. Her arm flailed out, socking something warm and yielding.

"Ugh!" a groggy voice moaned.

Ginny froze. Oh. My. God. Cringing, she finally opened her eyes in the hope of identifying the owner of the stomach she had just pounded with her fist. She dreaded the obvious.

She recognized that trail of pubic hair in an instant. In a matter of seconds, an array of reminiscences spotted on some unreachable horizon of her memory. She recalled intentionally drinking carelessly, in search of that moment when dignity and convictions take a back seat to denied pleasures. Ginny remembered Harry's furtive glances from across the room, his table just as littered with discarded bottles as her own.

Then tender words. Apologies. Sooner rather than later, the two had found a bed. Ginny had clutched at his shaking shoulders, soothing Harry while he cried as he took her... tears and promises...

"DAMMIT!"

Shocked into alertness by the sudden scream and jerk of the mattress, Harry shot up in bed.

"Of all the...BLOODY HELL!" Ginny flung back the bedclothes. Putting distance between them seemed essential, more important than shielding her nakedness from his view.

"Don't..."

"Let go of my wrist, Harry," Ginny muttered through clenched teeth. Her back was facing him, but given the plea in his voice, she could easily imagine his distressed expression.

"I don't regret it."

Ginny roughly yanked her hand out of his. "I don't care."

*** *** ***

Severus had been so consumed with his own pleasure that he all but cursed once he'd grasped the obscene extent of Hermione's moaning. His sudden awareness of their combined volume was so startling that he bit the inside of his cheek. Anything else would have alarmed her and probably killed the moment.

Hands clutching either side of her hips, Severus eyed the arching of her back and loathed the idea of demanding Hermione to control herself.

Luckily, the majority of the Black household had been so worn out from the party the previous night that most of them had turned in early this evening. Or, like Hermione and Severus, they'd simply used such reasoning as a convenient excuse.

After two more intense, drawn out movements, Severus released a groan very unlike the previous. This groan heavily echoed his opposition to what he was about to do. He needed to manage this before they got completely carried away...more so than they already were.

Snape leaned forward, pressing his chest against Hermione's spine, and grudgingly removed one hand from her bum to press it against her mouth. Unintentionally sinking deeper... much deeper... he nearly came as her wetness clenched around his cock. Severus tensed, willing the pressure in his bollocks to ebb away.

After a few almost unbearable seconds, Snape exhaled raggedly and pressed his jaw against her sweat drenched hair-line. "You're quite a little... howler... aren't you?"

With his hand clutched over her mouth, Severus wasn't really expecting an answer. The only noise filling his poignant silence was Hermione's attempt to calm her uneven breathing through her nostrils.

Severus slid out of her, and Hermione whimpered into his hand.

"If we were in my chambers, I'd command you to scream louder, but that simply wouldn't do here. If you cannot control your volume... I fear we must stop."

Hermione defiantly muttered against the palm of the hand restraining her. He could practically hear her eyes rolling in their sockets. Exhausted, she made a move to fall onto her stomach, but Severus wasn't having that.

Returning his grip to either side of her arse, he yanked Hermione back onto all fours.

"What was that?"

"I...what?" Hermione panted.

"I noticed your mumbling. Repeat what you just said."

Hermione cringed before glancing at him over her shoulder.

"I didn't...I was talking to myself."

"Say it." Severus voice was stern. The only indication that he wasn't irritated was marked by his shallow, teasing thrusts between her thighs.

Hermione faltered before speaking. "I said, 'Shut... shut up'."

Severus didn't respond right away, clearly expecting her to continue. When Hermione jerked her face to avoid meeting his expectant stare, he chuckled throatily. "I know very well that wasn't all."

His hips moved forward, increasing into a steady rhythm that was escalating her heart rate once more. He stopped suddenly and demanded, "Say it, Hermione."

"Shut up... and f-fuck me... harder." Her voice wasn't anywhere near the exasperation she'd felt when that phrase had slipped out her mouth moments earlier. Severus couldn't see her face or throat, but he could easily imagine them flushed in mortification.

He wasn't having that, either.

Snape surprised Hermione by roughly pushing his body weight upon her, urging her flat against the mattress. Severus pressed his heated chest against her sweat-slicked back, sheathing his length in her wetness. He only needed to faintly touch the inside of her thighs with the backs of his hands for them to part. With one hand clutched tightly against the headboard, Severus' onslaught was merciless.

If he'd wanted her tame and silent, he certainly wasn't going about it the proper way.

Licking the rim of her ear, he asked very quietly, "What do you want me to do?"

"I-I told you..."

"Say it."

"... Harder."

All mortification was gone with that one word. Again, Severus couldn't see her face, but he easily imagined her eyes clenched tight as she squeaked that stimulating command in a high pitched mew.

Right when that sought after tightening in his bollocks returned, Severus reached up to hold a much needed hand against Hermione's mouth.

But then, at the worst possible moment, reality demanded his attention. The groan that escaped his mouth this time comprised a beastly combination of euphoric release and agony. Snape's muscles naturally convulsed, brutally driving his cock past the hilt. Hermione's scream of pain warred with his own.

"Shit," he snarled, cautiously pulling out. Grasping Hermione by the shoulders, Severus quickly flipped her over to face him and brushed her disheveled curls away. Steadying his weight with his right arm, Severus frowned as he studied her face intently. His fingertips smoothed across her forehead and down her temple. Pain subsiding, Hermione returned his steady gaze.

Only a few moments of sanity left before... "I'm being..."

"I know." Hermione attempted to smile weakly, accepting the apology in his eyes that would have been very difficult for him to verbalize. She leaned up to kiss him, and Severus tilted his chin down to mirror her movement...until another wave of fire spread up his left arm.

"Fucking hell!"

Snape flung himself off her so fast that Hermione flinched back with equal abruptness. Whatever concern his expression might have held before was now fully replaced by that apathetic determination, which had become both his savior and his burden at times like these.

Hastily dressing, Snape was disturbingly aware of Hermione's unblinking observation of him. He refused to openly acknowledge it, but her concern was clear, nonetheless.

"Don't be here when I get back," Snape growled over his shoulder. His neck jerked impatiently as if he were irritated that she hadn't already thought to leave.

"What?" Hermione demanded. Glancing at the mask grasped in his hand, she dared to ask, "Where are you going?"

"No idea."

"I doubt that."

"Don't pester me!" From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione sharply turn her face away. He repeated his previous warning. "Don't be stupid. Stay in your room. Do not be here when I return."

"What are you expected to do tonight?" The pitch of Hermione's voice told him she wasn't hearing the warning behind his words.

Severus whirled around, Death Eater robes snapping loudly. With only a few rapid steps, he descended on her. One hand wrenched the bedclothes away while the other yanked her out of bed. "Bloody Gryffindor stubbornness! Don't you listen to a thing Moody says? It's the end of the month, and I have... quotas... to fill."

Hermione moved as he'd instructed, but her expression was still masked in useless concern. He preferred fear. Fear would guarantee she'd listen to him.

"Do as I say, Hermione."

"Please... be careful."

Expelling a snort of disgust, Snape flung himself away and left the room.

*** *** ***

Despite Severus' attempts to frighten her, Hermione did not go back to her room. But in the very least, she'd managed to leave his.

Severus had been gone for hours, and Hermione was making herself sick with anxiety. Snape had always been very good at keeping the occupants of number twelve from noticing his comings and goings. Hermione had only witnessed a handful of his arrivals in this house...never his departures.

This was his life, Hermione told herself. He was a Death Eater...a very good Death Eater, if such a thing existed...so she shouldn't fret over the dozens of possibilities that might prevent his return. Hadn't she witnessed enough of his arrivals from the Dark Lord's summons to find security in his safety?

But each time has been so different. Hermione assumed that his post-summons moods varied depending on the tasks expected of him. She'd seen him listless, cruel, violent... even randy.

With a shake of her head, Hermione willed those thoughts back to the corner of her mind.

"Don't you listen to a thing Moody says? It's the end of the month, and I have... quotas... to fill."

Severus wasn't aware of it, but Hermione knew exactly what his task tonight entailed. The Dark Lord depended on Snape to locate and... exterminate... all Muggles who had relatives in the wizarding world in the hope of eradicating Muggle-born births...and eventually all Muggle-borns altogether.

This can't go on for much longer.

After a useless attempt to study and an over-consumption of tea, Hermione resumed her pointless wanderings of number twelve. She didn't know how many times she had passed by Sirius' bedroom, but the door suddenly caught her attention.

It was ajar. Hermione jerked to a halt as a startling awareness struck her. She couldn't remember ever seeing this door left open.

Walking up to it, Hermione braced herself against the doorframe and called, "Sirius?"

She was surprised to receive no answer. He'd obviously just been here. Parchment and clothing were scattered all over the floor, and every candle was lit. Hermione frowned at the state they were in. Sirius hadn't been maintaining them, and many of the candles were dangerously close to falling onto the various books and paper littering his writing desk.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione rearranged everything into tidiness.

Her quick spell work also revealed a few items that seemed to have been purposefully hidden.

One book in particular caught her attention.

What in the world?

Hermione had had no intention of entering the room before now. Her shock had been so immense that she promptly crossed the messy floor to prove her trepidation false.

No... Hesitantly reaching out, Hermione pulled the heaviest and oldest tome from the stack. In the brief second needed to open it, she'd instantly slammed it shut and pushed the ghastly thing away. That brief second was all the time Hermione had needed to identify its content, and once she had, she couldn't bare the idea of touching it.

Why is this here? Oh, gods... Sirius... is this what you've been hiding?

"What are you doing?" Sirius barked from the doorway.

Hermione jumped with a squeak and whirled around, right arm flinching in the direction of her wand.

Sirius stormed past Hermione, swatting at the items on his desk and forcing the book back under its cover of parchment.

Hermione faltered. "I noticed that your door was open, and I wanted... I wanted to see if you were all right."

"Your concern for me led you to rummage through my belongings?"

"Sirius... I cannot believe... What on earth have you been doing in here?" She hadn't even grasped his insult. Her face still reflected the terror of what she had found in his possession.

Up until that point, it hadn't crossed Sirius' mind that she'd truly understand what the book was.

"GET OUT!" he shrieked.

Hermione did not need to be told twice.

*** *** ***

This is bad...

This is really... really bad.

Hermione had gone though all the logical routes of possible assistance. At least, they seemed logical in the muddled upheaval her mind was enduring. She didn't know exactly what her discovery meant, but she damn well knew she couldn't keep this information to herself.

The moment Hermione had fled Sirius' room and the door had been locked behind her, Hermione had flown through the house. Where was everyone?

Harry's room had been empty. He was the first person who she thought should be aware of Sirius'... personal activities. After pressing her ear against Luna's room, Hermione had detected an abundance of intimate laughter. It sounded like Ron. If Ron was in there that could only mean Ginny wasn't. She had been tempted to knock, but could those two truly help her? There was so much they didn't know to begin with, and Hermione didn't think she had the time to explain the complexities surrounding Sirius' pocket watch.

And Remus and Molly had left to spend the evening elsewhere.

Dumbledore had been another important contact on her list, of course, but after Minerva's admission as to the state of the man's health, Hermione saddened at the idea of burdening him further.

That obviously left the remainder of the Order: Minerva, Tonks, Moody... the list went on. But they all had their own duties and concerns, none of it originating at number twelve. Sirius' welfare was Hermione's mission.

Severus...

Sirius' activities and overall wellbeing was his responsibility, as well. Hermione knew she needed to speak to Snape first.

Resisting the temptation to return to his room the instant his name entered her thoughts, Hermione finally managed to enter her own.

Under normal circumstances, she would have thrived at the idea of having an entire bedroom to herself... but not tonight. Hermione didn't feel the least bit safe.

Sirius was only one floor below her, and it was evident that he was in a beastly mood. Every few seconds, random doors and cupboards slammed in cantankerous fits of rage, vibrating against every window of the house.

Hermione didn't know if her fear of him was rational or not.

Horcruxes... Perched on the foot of her bed, hands folded tensely in her lap, Hermione couldn't stop repeating that one word.

Those were the type of books Sirius had been spending the majority of his time reading? The fact that they'd been hidden could only mean that the tome Hermione had touched was especially precious... or damned. Possibly both.

Horcruxes...

Hermione needed to speak to Severus. Somehow, Hermione knew this was pertinent information for her Potions master.

He might already know what Sirius is intending to do with such... vile knowledge. That would explain Severus' wary cruelty towards him. But even if that were true...which appeared certain the more she thought about it...Severus still needed to know. More importantly, Snape should be aware that Sirius himself was conscious of Hermione's recognition of the book.

Sirius had kept his activities secret for a reason. Now that they were no longer secret...

That last thought had made up Hermione's mind.

Fighting the guilty cringe that was upsetting her stomach, Hermione marched up the stairs to the second landing.

*** *** ***

One step forward... continually followed by two steps back... Severus exhaled sarcastically as he repeated one of his favorite personal criticisms. Such was the life of a well intentioned Death Eater. The existence of such a creature had seemed possible twenty years ago.

But twenty years was a very long time. Albus, you're such a fool.

"WHY?"

The shrill screaming was still ringing in his ears. In just wanting to get his duties over with, Snape hadn't remembered to cast a Silencio before he'd started tonight. Why do all Muggles screech that same blasted question?

"WHY?"

The most trusted spy of the great Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord's most valued Death Eater had never possessed the answers to such questions.

And I was an even bigger fool to believe you...

By the time Severus had reached the top of the stairs at number twelve, he vaguely comprehended that he couldn't remember entering the house, let alone the lengthy Apparition from the remote Muggle neighborhood, he'd been... visiting.

Severus had managed to stagger into his room only hours before dawn. He wouldn't have entered his room so carelessly if he hadn't been craving the harsh drink that awaited him in his personal cabinet.

His blood was hot. Insufferably hot, and it needed to be cooled down. This had been the fiercest trial of will he had ever forced upon himself. Beyond the necessary executions, he hadn't thoughtlessly maimed or ravaged anyone tonight. He ripped his robes off his shoulders. Notwithstanding his own sweat and a bit of blood, Snape didn't feel the necessity to shower.

His bottle of wine sang to him as did the idea of collapsing into the armchair in front of the fire.

Severus should have been... proud... of himself for holding back as he had. But he wasn't. He couldn't appreciate such maudlin satisfaction as long as his Mark still singed and his blood still boiled with his denied instincts.

If Macnair had managed to survive, Snape would have gladly attempted to torture him again at that moment.

Regardless of the fact that Hermione didn't like it, Snape knew his constant doses of near toxic downers were indispensable. Pupils dilated, Severus paused, mid-step, his attention suddenly pulled away from his destination.

This happened to be the night he never made it to the drinks cabinet.

Severus froze by the bed, a ghost of a perverse grin pulling at the edge of his mouth.

Didn't I tell her... demand her to leave?

She never listens to you... a vicious voice in his head replied.

No. She doesn't.

His hand fisted into the bed-curtains.

She enjoys angering you.

Severus' twisted smile faded.

You warned her. You went through great efforts to warn her. Can you even remember the last time you bothered?

His top lip drew back over clenched teeth.

Yes. I did warn her.

Not once during his internal dialogue did Severus look at her face. It didn't feel essential at the moment. But if he had, he would have noticed that Hermione's sleep was a fretful one.

The minute he'd recognize the outline of a body upon his bed, Severus' eyes were immediately drawn to her legs. Shapely, bare legs that led up to tiny knickers and a flesh colored nightgown that was bunched around her waist.

"Stupid girl."

The one insult Snape knew Hermione loathed hissed out of his mouth in a soft caress.

It was his lowered, breathy speech that alerted her to his presence. Her eyes fluttered open, and within seconds, she'd identified the distinctive outline hovering beside the bed.

"Severus!" Hermione flung herself onto her knees, throwing her arms around his neck.

"I told you not to stay," Snape murmured into her ear. He wasn't reprimanding her. Severus seemed on the verge of laughter. His arms quickly closed around her. He held her tighter than necessary, his touch impatient.

"I was... worried..."

"Such a useless emotion." Severus released the harsh clench of her bum, fingertips barely touching her as he slid his hands up the length of her spine. "We have a... problem," he said quietly, "don't we?"

Hermione slowly pulled away. His greasy hair, filthier than usual, shielded his face. Raising her arm to brush it away, Hermione cringed at his rough clasp of her nightgown. By the time she knew to be on the alert, Snape had already ripped the flimsy material while expelling an enthusiastic groan.

Hermione's natural impulses ruled her actions. She clutched at her chest, keeping whatever minimal clothing she could against her.

"A problem that I've made great efforts to avoid," Severus continued, avoiding her attentive gaze and ignoring her tensing against him. He pushed her hands away, reaching for her shoulders and yanking what remained of the nightgown down her arms.

Hermione was certainly frightened but not totally unaware.

"For some reason, you seem to believe your Gryffindor impertinence is endearing..."

"Severus... wait," she whispered carefully, grasping his wrists. Intentionally hooding her lids and parting her mouth, Hermione believed she could reclaim him if only he'd meet her eyes. For one relieved instant, she thought it had worked.

Severus lightly trailed the tips of his fingers across her hand. "I, however, do not," he snarled suddenly, breath hot and violent upon her face. "My words, my warnings... my demands don't seem to mean much to you, do they? Let's find something that will..."

Hermione couldn't perceive the moment it had happened, but the hand she had been delicately holding seconds before now held her by the left ear, fingers clenched into her hair. No sooner than she had comprehended his ominous words, a grotesque groan vibrated in Snape's throat as he shoved her, face down, against the mattress.

"Not like this!" she finally screeched.

One hand held her in place as the other unfastened his trousers. The room was too dark. Hermione knew the body of this man belonged to Severus, but never had the tall, dark outline of a wizard frightened her to this extent.

"And you said, you'd never deny me..." Snape ridiculed.

"Not like this, Severus!" Hermione cried at the top of lungs, clawing anywhere she could steady her grip. Kicking her leg back, she finally managed to injure Severus' knee-cap seconds after he'd ripped her knickers away from her hips. Using his weight as leverage, Hermione kicked harder, flinging her body onto her back and pushing herself against the headboard.

"You're with me," she shrieked at the top of her lungs, as if the increased volume would make him really listen. To finally see. This man was nothing but a shadow.

The dark figure ripped his shirt off his back, chuckling nastily as he lunged upon the bed and managed to gain hold of her ankle.

"Severus... You're with me!"

He yanked hard, dislodging Hermione from her clutch on the headboard, sliding her unwilling body across the mattress. "You're not there anymore... You're with me!"

But Snape was there. He still hadn't met her eye. Only one thing was capturing his focus. Grinning licentiously at her struggling, naked body, Snape pressed his hand upon her mouth and completely fell on top of her, finally managing to spread her thighs.

Not knowing what else to do and not possessing her wand, Hermione wrapped her arms around him and dug all ten fingers into the flesh of his lower back. Crying from the effort, Hermione jerked her hands up the entire length of his spine, nearly retching at the feel of flesh and blood building under her nails.

Snape arched away from her, releasing a horrid sound she'd never heard him expel before. His fingers curled into fists, struggling against his urge to scream further. Eyes clenching, his body folded into himself, finally losing all of its intimidating force.

She held her breath. Edging very, very slowly, Hermione managed to pull herself out from under him.

Snape didn't move to stop her retreat. Curling up even further, Severus lowered his face into the duvet. Bands of blood ribboned down his spine and soaked into the hair at the back of his neck.

Heart pounding in her chest, Hermione uncertainly observed the strange twitching of his muscles and limbs. Realizing he was attempting to lift himself by his unsteady knees, Severus seemed to finally accept the will of his body that demanded him to completely collapse on the bed.

Hermione had been too terrified to run, afraid that she would draw attention to herself. Her very nerves were locked, and she believed Severus could sense this.

Snape's hand gently slid across the mattress. He was muttering unintelligibly, biting into the bedclothes. Right before he blindly reached to lightly place his fingers on her bruised ankle, Hermione caught the faint, garbled words that sounded almost like, "thank you."

She flinched away before his hand managed to curl around her aching flesh.

He sighed, long and deep, his breath cracking when he inhaled. Severus struggled to drag his body across the bed. Finally, finally, he caught her eye before reaching for her frozen body, once again. The distrustful look she gave him stilled his movements. But once again, he dared to place his shaking hands upon her.

Hermione's muscles tensed. Sensing her urge to flee, Severus lowered his face into the bedclothes beside her thigh and groaned, "Gods, don't. Pl...stay. Don't leave. Don't leave..."

Not uttering a word of reassurance or possible revelation as to her emotions, Hermione tentatively placed her hand on the crown of his head.

Severus exhaled sharply at the contact. Burying his face into her thighs, Snape wrapped his arms behind her knees and clutched them against his chest.

They stayed in that same position for who knew how long. As if snapping out of some trance, Hermione finally glanced down and truly took in the sight of the man draped across her lap. She cringed. His blood was everywhere. She could heal his flesh, but his intricate tattoos were forever ruined. Unable to stomach the sight of the open gashes across his back, Hermione carefully reached for her wand on the bed-side table.

"Leave it," Severus said suddenly, his grip tightening.

Hermione cleared her throat before speaking guardedly. "I was only getting it to clean your..."

"I know. Leave it."

*** *** ***

Hours later, Severus woke up filthy and alone.

His stomach roiled. He flung himself over the side of the bed and retched upon the floor. Body convulsing uncontrollably, memories of the last few hours hit him without warning, and the retching began anew.

Gasping great gulps of air, he rolled onto his side, reaching for the nearest piece of cloth to wipe the sick off his mouth. A flesh-colored garment torn to shreds pressed against his face. Recognizing the scent of the ruined nightgown, he hurled it away with a snarl.

The bed was cold and damp with his blood. He must have passed out after... after...

Reverting to the habits of his schooldays, Severus clutched a pillow to his face and screamed.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this...

After... everything... Snape knew he shouldn't have been surprised to wake up and find Hermione had left.

But a part of him had taken it for granted that no matter what happened, she never would.

Severus scrunched his eyes and willed himself to get up. We'll deal with this... later.

He convinced himself as much, anyway.

The Headmaster was expecting him today, and Snape still needed to complete a potion before their meeting.

Shakily rising out of bed, Snape finally managed a shower, all the while refusing to inspect himself in the mirror.

He didn't need to know what his back and shoulders looked like. He didn't want to know. He was just... satisfied... it had ended the way it had. Not until last night had Snape realized he had been denying himself another much needed addiction.

We'll deal with this later. We'll deal with this...

*** *** ***

"Enter," a voice responded weakly to his knock upon the Headmaster's office door.

Severus didn't bother masking his frown as he entered. Routine guided his actions. He concentrated on carefully placing the mug of blue, misty potion in front of the old man.

"It's so good to see you, Severus."

"Is it, now?" Severus always gave the same response. Then Albus began rambling niceties, and Severus was more than willing to block it out of his consciousness. The Potions master rounded Dumbledore's chair to begin their routine examination.

"You're not listening, my boy. I said no more..." Albus sympathetically patted the hand on his shoulder. "I've merely been waiting for you."

Severus had heard such pleading before. With a firm dismissive grunt, he gently moved the wrinkled hand away and pulled open the collar of Dumbledore's flamboyant robes. His breath stopped at the sight he found.

"Impossible," Snape muttered.

"Severus... Sit down. Listen to me."

"It should not have spread this quickly!"

"It's meant to be this way."

Severus pounded his fist upon the desk, nearly knocking over the potion he had just spent so much of his limited energy in making. "Not if you've been taking your doses regularly..." Severus cut himself off. Frustration cleared from his expression as an appalling yet logical thought became clear. This would explain Dumbledore's ever increasing fatigue and his rapid decline in health.

Snape stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the corner of the desk.

"Albus, what have you done?"

The Headmaster sighed in response to the dramatic tone of Severus' voice.

"I'm tired, Severus. I'm tired of fighting the inevitable."

The Potions master didn't have an immediate retort. Squaring his shoulders, Snape moved to face Albus completely. Placing both hands in front of him, he leaned across the surface of the desk and truly took in the sight of the decrepit, frail man. Albus couldn't even hide the fact that sitting up was straining his body.

"You're giving up," Snape accused. "You even reek of death."

"Remember what I told you. We both knew Peverell's curse was imminent. There was no cure, only a means to slow it down."

"Foolish, senile old bat! If that was your wish, why couldn't you have told me? You know what happens when you stop the doses part way through treatment. You know what kind of potion this is!"

"You would have prevented me."

All fight drained from Severus' face as quickly as it paled. "It's come to this." He fell into the chair behind him. "I cannot believe... you've... you've tricked me. You tricked me into killing you myself."

"It was my decision..."

"It was by my hand!" Face grimaced in revulsion, Severus allowed himself to fall forward, face cradled in his hands. It was a true testament to his frayed nerves that he allowed himself to sit in such a vulnerable position. "What the hell is happening?" he muttered to himself.

Everything he touched seemed to spiral out of control. Spiraling to ruin and death.

Dumbledore pretended he hadn't seen or heard this man in his moment of weakness. "When the time comes, Harry is going need your help."

"Damn the boy!"

Albus chuckled weakly. "And when the time comes, I have complete confidence you'll end up on the right side of this war."

"So you've doubted me?" Severus sat up straighter, the sneer forming on the end of his mouth quickly replacing his brief despair.

"Not your loyalties, son. In that, I have depended upon... but you've become a ghost of your former self. I believe you've completely lost sight of our mission."

Severus snorted.

"Forgive me, please," Albus wheezed. "I did not expect to shackle you in service your entire adult life. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I accept my responsibility with the hand life dealt you. If I had known what would be the result of my past negligence towards you..."

"I don't want to hear this."

"...who knows what your life might be like now."

"I've listened to this speech before, old man! I've already given you my forgiveness. My loyalty. What the hell else do you want from me?"

"More forgiveness, I suppose." Albus slumped upon the desk; his breathing slowed to labored gasps.

"Albus? Albus!" Severus flew from the chair. "Dammit, open your eyes!"

But he couldn't.

"Is this what you called me in here for? To watch you die?" Cursing wildly, Severus carefully pulled the Headmaster up from the chair and dragged his thin, limp body to the center of the office. He stretched the wizard upon the floor, hoping it would improve his difficulty in breathing.

"Bloody hell!" Severus spun towards the fireplace and snarled at the green flames. "Mungo's! Headmaster Dumbledore has collapsed."

Within moments, the office and entire seventh floor were in chaos.

Lime-green robed Healers poured in through the Floo. Severus' position beside Headmaster Dumbledore went from diligent monitoring to insignificant bystander as he was continuously shoved to the farthest corner of the office.

What the hell is happening?

He was more than capable of giving them a stubborn fight, but Severus couldn't gather the incentive. He allowed himself to be jostled about, but Snape absolutely refused to leave the office until he knew exactly what they were going to do and to where they were going to move the Headmaster for treatment. Severus remained seated on the floor, hands on his knees, forehead braced against his arms.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this... Damn you, Albus.

*** *** ***

Even near death, the old man still managed to have his way.

In a brief moment of consciousness, Dumbledore had made it very clear that he refused to be moved from the castle. If the Hospital Wing was good enough for his students, it was more than adequate for him.

"Get some sleep, Severus," Minerva muttered to the dark figure sitting beside Dumbledore's bed.

"Fuck off, Minerva."

It was a tribute to their strange friendship that Minerva did not curse in return. Instead, she patted the Potions master on the shoulder before quietly leaving the two men alone.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. Dumbledore had asked for forgiveness...again...and Snape wasn't sure he had any left to give.

He had let go of his vengeful grudge many years ago. He had let go of his vengeful grudge many years go. He had let go of his vengeful grudge many years ago... Snape had been repeating this for the past hour.

I accept my responsibility with the hand life dealt you. If I had known what would be the result of my past negligence towards you...

If only it were that simple, old man.

With those last thoughts on his mind, Severus returned to his obsessive mantra. Nodding off, his sober mind hurled into the past.

Snape cursed his idiocy. He should never have let down his guard, especially around her.

He and Lily had been studying. His thigh burned with awareness as they perched together, unbearably close, upon a dead log by the lake. All week, he'd been alternating between ignoring the tart and relentless teasing, so Severus wasn't surprised when she finally asked for his help with Potions. His last obscure thought wondered what excuse she'd give Potter this time before she sneaked into his dormitory...

Then Black was upon them.

The dog shoved himself between the two, unconcerned that his blow injured Lily as much as Snape. In that quick instant, Black had snatched the Advanced Potion's text right out of Snape's hands.

Lily mindlessly wiped dirt off her face with the back of her hand, all the while screaming for Sirius to back off. The three of them had done this before. Today was merely one of the many instances where Sirius had attempted to steal that blasted book from him. Whether it was from spite or jealousy, all Snape knew was that each time Black had put his greasy paws on his book, he'd always managed to master one of his personal spells.

Wand outstretched, Sirius shoved Lily back to the ground and hovered Snape's text over the water.

Like an idiot seventh year, Severus had let down his guard, his main concern focused on saving his precious book. Snape turned his back on Black, flicking his wand at the text to prevent it from plummeting into the dark waters.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

He should have known better than to turn his back on Black...

Severus' consciousness fell to another place for the briefest of moments, stunned at the spell he'd just heard snarling with the deepest loathing a man could possess. Lily's uncontrolled, petrified screaming forced his mind to center. He was still standing dumbly, overlooking the lake. His movements stupid, Severus turned around.

Mid-spin, Snape's equilibrium completely abandoned him as a stinging pain like he had never felt scorched up his back. The ground seemed to jump out at him, socking him in the knees.

Sirius had used Severus' own Sectumsempra spell against him. Touching the back of his neck, Snape realized where the cold, exposed feeling of his back originated. He didn't know how to describe the sensation under his fingertips. Wet came to mind, wet and... open.

The next thing he knew, the screaming had died off while he struggled against swallowing mud.

He recalled endless fields of black. Severus' mind seemed to be moving a million miles away from his body, aware that the two were no longer connected.

He suddenly heard faint whispering in his ear. Snape raised his hand to swat the irritating presence away. He just wanted to be left alone, to rest a bit. The black had felt natural to him: comforting. Face down in the mud, he sputtered in his attempt to draw breath.

But he could still hear that whispering inside his ear. Inside his head. The voice was tender. Remorse that was not his own flooded him with each forced intake of breath.

A steady breeze blew across the bare skin of his back. His back? Why was his back bare?

A wrinkled hand trailed the length of his open wound.

He was bleeding. He remembered; Sirius had attacked him. And someone was healing his wound, with a benevolent incantation, sorrowful whispers of a prayer that sounded almost like a song.

Was he dead? No, there was too much pain, pain that doubled as his face pulled out of the mud. Severus was floating with no hands holding him. Fighting to regain complete consciousness, his eyes fluttered open and closed in exaggerated movements. The grass moved rapidly beneath his vision, followed by the stone steps of the castle.

Someone was running beside him and crying. Was that Lily? Yes. He'd made her cry enough times to recognize those hiccoughs of grief. She had always been such a clingy shag.

Just as his face passed over a Hospital Wing bed and lowered upon a pillow, Severus blacked out again.

*** *** ***

Someone was breathing next to him. Ten steady breaths then a long sigh. Another ten steady breaths, followed by two sighs. Ten steady breaths and a loosening of their nasal passage.

They needed to die.

"Unless you are incapacitated in another bed," Severus rasped thickly, "I suggest that you breathe in another wing of the castle."

Silence.

The hard breathing had stopped, but the presence was still there. He needed to know who it was. Severus attempted to balance his weight on his forearms, but his sore body fought against him, and he fell back against the bed.

"Try not to move too much," said a concerned voice.

Severus' blood ran cold. The owner of that voice had no right to speak to him in such a way.

Not now. Not anymore.

Severus willed his crusted eyes to open. Dark, fuzzy colors swirled around him before finally connecting to form coherent pictures.

What the FUCK was he doing here?

"Are you lost, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore had the grace to divert his eyes. Severus struggled to name the expression the Headmaster fought to hide. Was that... no... shame?

Snape gritted his teeth.

"Do you remember what... happened out by the lake, Severus?"

Snape struggled to rein in what he truly wanted to spit out while mockingly answering, "I'm certain Black has already given you a very accurate explanation of my attack."

"The only version of events I am interested in at the moment is yours."

Snape's snort was full of cynical disgust. "Why now?" he sneered. His anger grew in relation to the Headmaster's increasing discomfort.

"I have spoken to James this morning... I've come to an understanding of the events... true events, that have taken place between James, Sirius, and yourself."

"I couldn't care less what you know or think, now."

"I've been... wrong in my previous assumptions."

"Why are you still standing here?"

"Please forgive me, son."

Face alit in rage, Snape lunged into the sitting position, only to cry out in agony as the muscles of his back protested.

"Don't! Don't you dare call me that, you old fool. What right do you have to speak to me as though you haven't ignored me for the past six years!"

"I just... I need you to know that I was wrong. I was...am wrong in my treatment of you."

"Bastard."

"Severus, please..."

"Bastard!" Severus had finally managed to sit up. His pale, thin face shadowed by unhealthy hair glowered back at the Headmaster so severely that the old man snapped his mouth shut.

Severus raged, half-speaking through clenched teeth. "Do you honestly think you are making things better? How dare you unload your conscience on me! Does this change anything? Does it take my humiliation back? Offer me dignity? Your very presence mocks me. When I'd sought after...wished...for your assistance, you cast me out of your office. Now when I wish for you to leave, you remain standing before me. Your apologies mean shit!"

Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully. "I mean every word I am saying. You have no idea how sorrowful I am."

"No, no, no," Snape laughed madly. "There you are very wrong, old man. I do believe you... every word you are saying. I can see it in your face. But you have not begun to feel the pain you claim. Now that I know you actually give a damn, I will seek my revenge... on you."

Dumbledore didn't know what else to say. Face filled with shame, the Headmaster slowly left the Hospital Wing while Snape continued taunting morbid promises at his back.

Promises he had kept.

A few months after that particular incident by the lake, as families united in celebration for the arrival of their N.E.W.T results, Severus had enjoyed an opulent summer at Malfoy manor where he'd received the Dark Mark.

Two years later, the Potters were dead.

Snape hissed, his mind hurtling back into consciousness.

Remaining immobile in his seat, eyes rolling back, Severus' forearm burned to scorching black. He held his breath as the pain consumed him, eagerly anticipating the crest.

Just when the ache had reached its peak, Severus exhaled the precise moment it subsided. He didn't remember the movement, but he had grabbed the pillow his neck was perched against, clutching it to his chest.

Pupils dilated and breathing heavily, Severus' fists clenched into its soft center while he stood entranced by the vision of the completely static body of Albus Dumbledore.

Albus fucking Dumbledore.

He'd been this man's puppet for so very long.

But the end was near; he could taste it.

Snape's forearms flexed as the pillow pushed away from his chest.

It would be so...

Severus stepped closer to the old man's hospital bed.

... easy.

---

Author's Notes: Each chapter is getting more and more difficult to write, but dang is it fun. The majority of these scenes and the rest of the chapters to come were written over two years ago. With the new material my muse has been flinging at me, this has been one strange WIP. Thank you, loyal readers, for your much appreciated dedication!

-I'd be lost without my beta, melusin.

-Big thanks to ILoveSnow and Alooshka for their encouragement.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book ii. Line 174.

-Next Up: Total devastation. Voldemort demands a very faithful servant to present him the next Dark Lord.