Neville's Gift

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR.

A/N: My eternal thanks to Ariadne. The countdown to the final battle has begun.

Severus took long, sweeping strides through the halls, his legs taking him to the Potions classroom by pure memory. Clenching his hands into fists, he fixed his eyes on the floor, watching as the texture changed from smooth to the more rough-hewn stone of the dungeons.

What he had done to Lucius was much more than any ordinary interrogation. After all, Veritaserum would have achieved the same result. But he couldn't resist the urge, and what he had done had cost him dearly. Cold. Broken. How close he had come to simply not backing away from the crumbling edge. Control had always been within his grasp. He had mastered it, even in the most dire circumstances – but this – this was dangerously close.

Replaying it through his mind, it was, in his opinion, the performance of a lifetime. Through it all, a small, removed portion of himself had watched to see what the outcome would be, and, if the plan was successful, he wondered if he would survive to see it carried to completion.

Lucius believed everything in the end, but then – Severus knew him to be nearly insane.

Some strange part of him believed what he'd been saying as well. Amazing what lies could do – distorting truth beyond recognition. A secret code in his mind kept it all in place, leaving the calculated exterior in place. For a disturbing moment in time, his mind had slipped into that darkness, believing, forgetting the code, reminding him that he held the power.

The power to rule over both sides however he wished, even if that meant sending them all out there – rushing blindly into a war that neither side could win, exacting revenge for what both sides had taken from him.

Hermione had brought so much to his life, but as Severus stalked the halls, he knew he was not the redeemed soul she might believe him to be.

Severus barely slowed his pace as he raised his arms, forcefully slammed his fists on the classroom doors, and sent them crashing into the inside walls. When he lifted his head, the sound echoing through the classroom brought him out of his thoughts.

He stopped, met with the vision of Neville Longbottom, who was twisted around in his seat, startled almost out of his skin and clutching a potted plant to his chest.

Severus descended the stairs, swiftly shifting his mindset from near murder to dealing with someone who surely thought him to be pure evil incarnate.

As Severus observed Longbottom's reaction to his presence, one thing struck him. While other students had a healthy fear of him, none had ever approached Longbottom's dizzying level of terror. Over the years, Severus had almost gleefully unnerved Longbottom to the point of utter failure, yet Longbottom still attended his class. Severus surely had to respect him for tenacity, a trait he himself had found useful over time. One arguing point that he would not, for fear of his life, broach with Hermione was the fact that she helped Longbottom excessively. The world, in Severus' opinion, was not a place full of compassionate people who were willing to cover up inadequacies and save those unable to perform under pressure.

Severus decided to see what could be done to remedy the situation with Longbottom – considering he wanted something from him. In the situation with Lucius, that meant a near-death experience, whereas in Longbottom's, it meant he was in for quite a shock.

Mr. Longbottom was about to learn he had more to offer than his Herbology talent.

Severus leaned against his desk and crossed his arms.

"Do you fear me, Mr. Longbottom?"

Stunned, Neville looked as if a private conversation with Snape was certainly his worst nightmare come to light. "Well I..."

"The question only demands a simple yes or no answer," Severus said impatiently, attempting to keep his voice as even as possible. It was like speaking to a startled animal.

"Yes, then... I guess so, sir," Neville stammered, still clutching the potted plant and running his fingers nervously over the texture of the clay.

Severus nodded. "There is a distinct difference between fear and respect. I only expect the latter from you from this point forward. Is that clear?"

Neville looked at him in disbelief, but said with more confidence, "Yes, sir."

Severus clasped his hands behind him and thought for a moment before asking, "Mr. Longbottom, do you know why I have singled you out in class over the years? It is my experience that some students need a harder push than others to reach their full potential. That being said, that method has seemed to have had the opposite effect on you."

Neville only looked at Severus as if he was going to be ill.

Severus scowled slightly. "I heard of your performance in the Department of Mysteries battle. That, in the end, it was yourself and Potter left standing?"

Neville nodded slowly, nervously rubbing his fingers over a leaf.

"Impressive," Severus said thoughtfully and approached where Neville sat, ignoring how his eyes grew wider with every step. "That brings me to the reason why we are here."

Neville pulled the pot closer to himself.

Severus stopped and scowled slightly before continuing, "We are not going to brew healing potions – yet."

At this Neville looked truly nervous. It seemed like he would be more comfortable if Snape would simply shout at him rather than speaking in such a civilized manner.

Severus appeared uncomfortable and arranged his words carefully. "I am aware of your talents. I have spoken enough in this room and now it will be used to allow me to gain some knowledge."

Severus then did something shocking.

Taking a seat at one of the student's desks, Severus motioned towards the plants that Neville had brought. "Tell me about them. I know you have been researching quite extensively and am interested in your findings."

Neville was stunned and clutched the pot so tightly to his chest it threatened to break. He stared in disbelief at Snape's sitting at a table like a student, calmly looking at him, expecting a lesson.

Slowly, after Severus made no move to berate him, Neville gathered his pots and samples, moved towards the front of the room and began to share.

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"What are you wearing to the dinner tomorrow night, Hermione?" Ginny asked while keeping an eye on Fred and George who were crouched low over the wizard's chessboard, laughing as the dragons swirled angrily, snapping at their hands as they passed by.

"Dinner?" Hermione asked with a blank look.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course, everyone knows but you, since you spent half the day locked up with 'Sevikins'."

Hermione snorted. "I dare you to call him that."

"No thanks, that's your job," Ginny retorted with a smirk. "McGonagall is planning an engagement dinner for you two tomorrow night. Dancing, too."

"Now? Seems like a strange time since we're in the middle of a war, don't you think?" Hermione said doubtfully, glancing around the Hall. Her hopes of a serious planning session were in danger as she watched Fred tying something to the furious chess pieces and nodding to George before taking notes. Both had mischievous grins on their faces and snorted with laughter as they worked.

She sat up straighter before elbowing Ron. "What are they doing?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't know... having their bloody fun as usual. Been outside all day setting traps all over the grounds, most likely." He looked doubtfully towards the window where the sky indicated a beautiful summer day, warning, "I wouldn't walk out there if I were you."

"Well, what are you going to wear?" Tonks asked. She rustled Hermione's bushy hair, turned to Ginny, and declared, "Definitely put it up."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well at least you know how to dance. You can dance with Neville. He's gotten quite good," Ginny offered with a hopeful expression.

Hermione looked concerned. "Why wouldn't I dance with Severus?"

Tonks and Ginny both laughed out loud at once. Even Harry snorted, which he hurriedly tried to convert to an innocent cough. When they saw that Hermione was serious, they forcefully stifled their gales to small giggles.

"Snape? Dance? It'd be a miracle of physics," Harry said with a smirk which he quickly lost when Hermione fixed him with a glare.

"He could learn," Hermione argued, daring him to laugh once more.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Ginny said, "I'm sure he could, but it's tomorrow night. I hardly think he could learn that fast."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true," Hermione said distractedly as the miniature screams of the dragons and the twins' laughter echoed through the Hall.

To everyone's interested observation, Severus and Neville entered the Great Hall together.

"Think it'll rain again tonight, Severus?" Hermione asked casually as Severus passed by. When he missed a step and stopped, she innocently gazed out the nearest window.

Severus looked with her at the same startling blue sky.

"Yes, I believe so." He then shifted his gaze to her and stated seriously, "Quite hard."

Hermione's eyes widened, and Severus raised an eyebrow, as if claiming a point in a match.

"Are you two mad?" Ron said, pointing towards the window. The brightness of the afternoon sun required everyone to squint.

"Ron, if Severus says it will rain tonight, then it will," Hermione said in a light tone.

Severus twitched a smirk in response, nodded slightly to her, and continued on his way.

When he assumed Severus was out of earshot, Ron snorted. "I'd like to see that."

Ginny, who until then had restrained herself to only a strained smile, giggled and tightly held her hand over her mouth. Tonks, however, was doubled over and nearly out of breath. They leaned on each other, gasped at nearly the same time, and wiped tears from their eyes.

At Hermione's glare, Ron argued, "What? It's not like he can force it to rain quite hard."

As the girls burst into gales of uncontrolled laughter, Harry looked clueless and made a motion as if they were mental. Ginny was nearly falling off the bench while clutching onto Tonks' arm. They both clumsily rose and staggered in hysterics towards the door, their laughter echoing behind them.

Hermione regarded the both of them with an irritated expression. Her eyes then shifted past Ron.

Ron looked completely befuddled by the thought that Snape controlled the weather. "Yeah, sure... thinks he runs the bloody world," he muttered a little too loudly to the table.

When Ron sat up again, he caught sight of Harry's face – and of the fact that his eyes were fixed on something behind him.

"He's right behind me, isn't he?" Ron said with one eye squeezed closed and his mouth screwed up as if he tasted something foul.

"Very observant, Mr. Weasley," a cold voice said from behind him. "While I may not run the bloody world, I do run this small event commonly referred to as a war. Care to survive?"

Ron turned around in his seat and forced his eyes to travel up to meet Severus' glare.

"Weasley, Longbottom and Potter," Severus announced, "all of you will meet me here tomorrow morning after breakfast for dueling practice. Hermione, please retrieve Miss Weasley and go with Molly to study healing with Poppy. Please remind Miss Tonks that she is expected to patrol the castle and then relieve Moody when she has completed her bout of hysterics about the predictability of the weather."

Turning to Neville, Severus said, "Mr. Longbottom, we shall take up our work later on tonight. I shall see you then."

"Why not Malfoy?" Ron muttered, looking over where Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table, untying what appeared to be the Daily Prophet from an owl's leg.

Harry glared at Ron, then shook his head as if he suddenly didn't know him.

Severus turned, slammed his fist on the table and drew to within inches of Ron's face.

"Because, Weasley," Severus spat, "Malfoy is a better duelist than even some of the best full-grown witches and wizards of our time. That's why. And you should be more worried about your own skin."

Ron stared at the table, ignoring how everyone had grown silent around him.

"And for that little outburst, you shall have a private lesson – with me."

Severus stood up and looked at Hermione, pausing for a moment before indicating she should talk to Draco. He then shot another glare at Ron, daring him to look back up at him, before turning to join the others.

A thought occurred to Hermione as she watched Neville take a seat next to Harry. It was the first time she had ever seen Neville not react with some form of terror at the mere sight of Severus, let alone appear anything but deathly pale at the prospect of spending even more time with him alone.

Something had clearly changed between them – something significant.

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"Interesting," Minerva said after listening to Severus quietly explain how he had persuaded Lucius not only that he was still faithful, but that he would open Hogwarts for them to attack at a prescribed time. They stood in the back of the crowd of Order members, assembled around one of the tables in the back of the Great Hall.

Severus clasped his hands behind his back and watched as the twins made grand gestures and pointed enthusiastically at a map of the grounds.

"That's all? 'Interesting'?"

"I trust you," she said carefully, reinforcing her words with a significant nod. "I imagine that Mr. Malfoy voluntarily chose to believe you?"

His brows came together at the complete chaos on the twins' map, his imagination painting scenarios that no one would want in the middle of a battle.

"Not exactly."

Minerva pursed her lips, preferring not to ponder what his preferred method of persuasion was, knowing only that he was not in possession of Veritaserum. "If you are sure?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Have we a better option?"

With a deep sigh, Minerva said, "You'll need to tell Draco."

He glanced over to where Draco was sitting, and nodded. "Yes – after."

Minerva turned her gaze towards Severus, meaning to offer an argument for telling Draco before, but then thought better of it.

"Agreed."

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"Draco," Hermione said softly, sitting down across from him. She glanced back towards the others while twisting to bring her legs under the table.

He stared at his copy of The Daily Prophet, refusing to look at her.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"I don't want anything, Malfoy," she said, hoping to draw him into a sparring match – anything.

His face twisted in an expression of pure revulsion as he spat, "Don't call me that."

Hermione sat up, startled at his reaction to his name.

She slowly leaned forward again and said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Draco."

Shrugging, he turned a page. Before he could resume reading, Kitty serenely walked onto the paper and lay down. When Draco lifted his hand to shoo the cat away, Kitty looked directly into Draco's eyes and hissed.

Scowling at the cat, Draco irritably threw his hand towards the Gryffindor table. "Go back to them. You don't belong over here; can't you see that?"

"House membership doesn't matter anymore. Not here – not now. We need to work together," Hermione said, raising her voice as Draco angrily got up from the table and started to leave.

Draco stopped, leaned over the table, and unceremoniously shoved Kitty off of the paper. Folding it roughly, he held it up and snarled, "This – this is my mother's so-called death notice."

Hermione could only sit in stunned silence, watching the rage in his eyes as he gripped the paper in his fist.

Tilting his head, Draco pointed over at Harry, saying bitterly, "I'm not here to protect your dear Potter, or even to fight Voldemort..."

Draco shook the paper as if he had a score to settle with it, then threw it down on the table. Kitty sat, looking affronted, but with a strangely sympathetic expression.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but quickly recoiled when Draco pointed up to what she assumed to be the Room of Requirement, leaned in and said viciously, "I will kill him. I just have to. THAT is why I am here."

Hermione watched Draco stalk out of the Great Hall, then took the paper and stared at the article.

An outdated picture of Narcissa was there, announcing her death. Not murder. Death. As if Narcissa would simply die for no apparent reason.

In a true tragedy of irony, it stated that she left behind a son.

And a husband.

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"Wake up, Lucius!" Severus ordered loudly and without warning, called, "Lumos!"

Lucius groaned and shut his eyes painfully as bright light flooded the room.

"Pity. Please accept my sincere apologies for the darkness, old friend. It seems the old Auror was negligent in recasting the light spell for you," Severus said apologetically, enjoying the fact that Lucius still could not open his eyes to the light.

Severus approached the cell and gripped the bars, moving his hands in degrees along the metal.

In a strangely cold voice, he asked, "Enjoy the darkness, Lucius? You can widen your eyes as much a physically possible and still see nothing. After a number of hours, as you can imagine, it no longer matters if they're open or not. After days – well – after days, you begin wondering if the only things you'll ever see are your dreams."

Lucius had managed to open one eye and regarded Severus with both fear and exhaustion.

"Or nightmares."

Nodding to himself, Severus opened the cell door and asked with mock concern, "Certainly there are no hard feelings about earlier? You must know it is crucial that my work here be successful and that nothing can get in the way of that. Even you."

"Of course," Lucius agreed, trying to hide the look of disgust on his face.

"Look at me," Severus said softly. It was a tone that could be taken either as compassionate or as the last thing someone hears before being murdered.

Reluctantly, Lucius raised his head and met Severus' eyes. He flinched back in the chair as Severus raised his wand.

"Do not doubt me, Lucius. If you do, I shall ensure that your execution is performed in the most vile way possible. Regardless of my loyalties, I have my own agenda, and your mockery of me is unforgivable. Are we clear?"

When Lucius nodded in agreement, Severus brought his wand down swiftly and the magical bonds were released. Lucius almost fell forward out of the chair before painfully bringing his arms forward. He sat hunched over, gritting his teeth and rubbing his aching limbs before regarding Severus through his stringy, blood-stained hair.

"I'd allow you to clean up; however, I can't be observed coddling the prisoner, can I?" Severus said with a smirk before turning and walking towards the door. He removed Lucius' cloak and wand from a cleverly concealed compartment in the wall. Clearly, Moody enjoyed efficient prison construction.

"If anyone sees us," Severus said warningly, touching his wand to Lucius' chest, "you will run and I will be forced to either recapture, or, depending on the witness, kill you to avoid suspicion."

Lucius paused as he put on his cloak, studying Severus' face.

Scowling, Severus roughly took hold of Lucius' hood, threw it over his head and taunted, "It is, therefore, in your best interest to avoid being seen – yes?"

Holding up Lucius' wand, Severus added, "You shall regain this if we are successful."

Once outside in the hallway, Severus led Lucius towards a passage that would take them down to the ground floor. As they approached the corner, Severus suddenly halted and jerked Lucius back against the wall. He could hear the sound of hooves on the stone floor, scraping and settling down. Quickly, he shoved Lucius behind a statue and ventured out to peer around the corner. Buckbeak was chained to a nearby wall, with a neat pile of ferrets and vermin at his feet. He raised his head swiftly and regarded Severus with piercing orange eyes.

Severus returned to Lucius and motioned for him to move towards the main staircase, hoping that they wouldn't be seen. If they could just reach the passageway one floor below, they could make their way down easily.

While on the stairs, Severus glanced down to see the other staircases thankfully empty. Once inside the passageway, they emerged from a doorway in the dungeons.

"This way," Severus hissed and roughly shoved Lucius ahead of him. He intended to take him through the entryway he used whenever called by Voldemort which emerged near the greenhouses. With a strange reminder of his mortality, he remembered that reaching this entryway had almost been his last thought as he laid dying on the Hogwarts grounds not so long ago.

As they turned the final corner, Severus was startled to see Remus towards the end of the hallway, obviously out on patrol.

Severus quickly thrust Lucius' wand into his hand, pointed back towards the Entrance Hall and hissed, "Go!"

Waiting a moment, Severus watched Lucius awkwardly willing his legs to cooperate after having been restrained for so long, then loudly yelled, "Lupin! He's running for it!"

Hearing Lupin running up behind him, Severus gave chase, throwing an impressive array of spells after Lucius, blasting various portraits off the walls and instantly converting a small statue into dust. Remus ran up next to Severus, casting his own spells as Lucius disappeared around the corner towards the Entrance Hall.

Arriving at the doors, Lucius slid to a stop, throwing a panicked look behind him. Severus angled his path in front of Remus and nodded to Lucius as he disappeared out the front doors.

Severus and Remus ran out into the cool night, watching a cloaked figure stiffly running towards the castle gates. After the sound of Lucius' Apparation was heard, Severus and Remus stopped and stood in silence while catching their breath.

Once they had sufficiently recovered, Remus laughed and, with a hand on Severus' shoulder, said with a smile, "Quite a team."

Severus nodded and responded with a restrained grin, "Yes. Quite."

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Hermione had been up for an hour, watching a small rectangle of sunlight form, then brighten. It made its way across the room, patiently traveling over furniture on its journey towards the bed. When it crested over the edge of the mattress, just above where Severus' hair splayed across the pillow, Hermione paid close attention to how the light tinged his hair blue. She idly arranged the strands in sections, spacing them apart against the white of the linen, feeling the warmth where the sun reached.

"Severus, you do know there is a dinner for us tonight?"

"I am aware of that fact, yes," he mumbled and, without opening his eyes, swept his arm behind him, closing the drapes before the sun had a chance to fully invade the room. Only a small strip of sunlight remained, stubbornly insisting that it was, indeed, morning.

Severus decided that Dumbledore's insistence that he move to the rooms was certainly a back-handed punishment of sorts, considering how incessantly bright they were.

Hermione leaned against him from behind and placed her hand over his heart. She remained that way for a while with her chin on his shoulder. "There will be dancing, too."

"Yes, I am aware of that as well," he muttered, and settled in to fall asleep again.

"Unless I'm missing something, you do not dance. It simply doesn't fit the 'bat of the dungeons' persona."

Severus turned and lay on his back, knowing he had no hope of any more sleep.

"How do you know I don't have a whole other life? Maybe I'm secretly wealthy and well-bred. It's possible I was privileged and learned fancy things like dancing."

"Oh, really?" she said with a grin, knowing he was teasing her.

A genuine smile graced his face, and even with the horrid mess of hair obscuring his eyes, she could tell he was truly happy in that moment.

"It's quite possible," he argued.

Nodding as if in thought, she countered, "So, then there is a Snape Manor? Complete with a huge staff and gobs of Galleons? Will I be the Lady of the house?"

She caught him rolling his eyes, so she clasped her hands together and said wistfully, "Oh, I think I shall make the drapes red!"

Severus openly laughed. "Now you're getting ahead of yourself."

"See? I knew it," she said with a triumphant smile.

"Of course, the drapes must remain blue as they go well with the stunning sea view in the master bedroom."

Hermione laughed. "Now you're teasing."

"Fine, I shall allow you to change the ones in the drawing room," he said with a wave of his hand. "I never cared for those anyway."

"You're terrible, you know that."

He shrugged. "That is the prevailing opinion."

"You've managed to thoroughly avoid my question," she said, reaching up to pull her hair back.

He glanced at the ceiling for a moment before asking, "Which was? I've forgotten."

Frustrated, but loving every minute of it, Hermione sighed and asked, "Can you or can't you?"

"Ah," he said, then yawned. "I believe I am capable of performing, yes."

Hermione gasped. "I'm talking about dancing – not that."

Feigning shock, he held his hand to his heart. "I was speaking of dancing as well. Really, Hermione, I'm honestly surprised at how easily your mind travels down that path."

Before she could speak again, Severus leaned over and kissed her gently, touching softly and then moving a fraction before joining again. He caressed her face and gently brushed her hair away. Each kiss became a slow study in just how sensuous the slightest touch could be. Every time he withdrew, she experienced that same feeling of loss before the touch returned in the form of a kiss or fingers tracing the angle of her ear.

Hermione lost track of how long they kissed like that, realizing only later that the sun had moved across the floor enough to be noticeable. She kept her eyes closed to ignore the voice telling her that they were going to miss breakfast.

After a while, he broke the kiss and murmured, "You may dream of the stunning manor with ocean views and Galleons, or you may have only me, keeping in mind I am terribly unpleasant, have developed an annoying habit of sleeping late, and am currently unemployed. Oh, and that my only home is currently occupied by a wizard whose only focus is killing one of your best friends."

Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.

Before she could respond, he added apologetically, "There's no sea view – and the drapes are not red."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't care what you don't have. I only need you."

"Ah, I see. Excellent choice. Let's show ourselves at breakfast before they send another search party," he said, taking her hand.

Hermione knew full well that he had avoided her question, but decided to let it go.

Sparring with him was by far more entertaining than simple conversation, and it was something that, in her mind, would never grow old.