47: The Choices of Master Fawkes

Harry pawed frantically through the ashes for the baby bird, terrified that this time, he would not find one. Fawkes had obviously endured terrible pain as a sacrifice to spare Snape just as Tura had only hours earlier, and the repetition of that pattern filled him with an irrational fear that Fawkes, too, might be lost to him forever. When he finally discovered the damp chick, Harry wept in relief as he tucked him snug and safe in his breast pocket.

An unmeasured period of time later, Snape quietly commented, "He will require feeding shortly."

Harry whirled angrily to face his former professor. "Shut up! I KNOW how to take care of him!" Wand in hand, he was panting for breath in his sudden fury, but he still couldn't bear to hex Snape. Even if he somehow fooled Tura, Fawkes would have seen through any deception. Harry knew it. If Fawkes was willing to suffer so terribly to save that greasy git, there must be a good reason.

Snape, meanwhile, gave him an automatic glare that Harry had seen many times at Hogwarts; it meant something like "Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me." Out here, however, it seemed halfhearted, missing its haughty edge. As Harry stared back at him, Snape seemed to lose all composure, the sneer fading rapidly into exhaustion and defeat, the arrogance falling away to reveal hopelessness and misery beneath. "I imagine you do," Snape finally said without a trace of sarcasm.

"You imagine... What's that supposed to mean?" Harry's voice shook.

Snape stared at him with a strange, distant expression. "Must I explain? You see, we never told you about this, never asked you to Bond with Fawkes--and that is precisely why you did it. If you'd been invited or even begged, you would have refused, because that's just the sort of willful, contrary person you are, Potter. Which is why Albus let you think it up on your own--and voila', it was done."

Now it wasn't so hard to imagine hexing him. "Enough doublespeak. Fawkes suffered to help you, and now you're going to answer to me."

Snape let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping further. "It may take a while to explain."

Harry said nothing, but leaned back and cracked his knuckles expectantly.

"It was I who first suspected you were a Legilimagus, you know," began Snape. "Back in your fifth year, when you not only managed to Occlude me, but to follow me out of your mind and into my own. Both Albus and the Dark Lord could perform wandless Legilimency after years of study and practice, but Tura was the only sorcerer who could penetrate my mind. Until you, too, managed it."

What this had to do with Bonding to Fawkes was unclear, and Harry was far too frazzled for games. "Make your point, Snape."

"Patience, boy!" he barked angrily. "Meaningful answers take time, which, for a change, we have in abundance. Fawkes will sleep for several hours before he must be fed. But if you're in such a hurry, Potter, by all means, come into me and see it for yourself." He stared into Harry's eyes as though daring him to use Legilimency.

For a moment, Harry wondered what sort of trap Snape was attempting to set and nearly backed away. But that was pure folly. Snape had no hope of beating him at Legilimency, any more than Harry could best Snape at Potions. This was his magic, his realm; Harry had nothing to fear and he knew it. Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly as he recognized Harry's confidence, but he held his gaze.

Harry nodded. All right, he projected into Snape's mind. Show me. All of it. But if you try anything, any deception at all, I'll kill you.

Snape's eyes widened further, and he swallowed hard, but he still held steady. "Then follow my lead," he said.

"Once again, I have a challenge for you."

As Snape slumped into the chair in resignation, Dumbledore gazed at him kindly and continued. "Tom is manipulating Harry's dreams. I don't know his purpose, but I can't imagine it's benign. I don't want it to continue, Severus. I'd like you to teach him Occlumency."

The office disappeared as Snape put his hand over his eyes. I know this already, Harry thought impatiently. The memory dissipated for an instant and Snape barked, "Be still!" before the vision resumed.

"Albus... Don't ask this of me," groaned Snape, but to Harry's surprise, he was not begging off out of loathing for Harry, but something entirely different that Harry couldn't quite place. Dumbledore entwined his fingers and leaned onto his desk, but did not speak.

Snape dropped his head forward, shaking it. "I can't do it. I'd have to expose his secrets, his inner world. I don't WANT to know anything about him! Besides, if the Dark Lord learns I have that knowledge, he will not let up until he takes it from me!"

"I understand."

"Then teach him yourself! Or send him to Tura! If anyone can manage Potter, it's she."

"I fear Miss Ondossi must join this saga at some point, but not yet," said Dumbledore gently. "I know it frightens you to relate to Harry so intimately... but I am quite certain that I cannot bear it." Dumbledore slumped in his chair with a sorrowful expression, his voice soft and quiet. "He's become the son I never had, you know. I never imagined such a thing would happen, but there it is. More proof that love is the strongest magic of all, I suppose."

Snape regarded him silently, then asked in a raspy voice, "And what makes you think I can do better?"

Dumbledore smiled wanly and leaned forward onto his elbows. "Well, you've certainly had plenty of practice. And you've always been a much better Occlumens than I."

Snape was not flattered. He knew quite well that he was a better Occlumens, but there were more pressing matters at stake. "No, no, this is ridiculous," Snape insisted. "I had to learn Legilimency before I could successfully Occlude. You know full well I can't let him inside my mind!"

Far from being deterred, Dumbledore looked positively cheery at that comment. "I understand completely, and I've already anticipated your need to teach him some Legilimency. I have something to help you keep your most dangerous secrets--a secret of my own." He opened the cabinet and brought the Penseive to his desk.

Snape's feet hit the floor hard. "A Pensieve? Are you insane? These are banned for a reason--"

"I know precisely why they are banned," Dumbledore interrupted, "but you do not. All the others failed to work, because though they were modeled from this one, they did not have its power. Look closely." Dumbledore waved his wand in a complex motion over the basin. As he did so, the stone became misty, transparent, then finally disappeared, revealing a beautiful silver bowl encased within.

Snape's heart was suddenly racing. He leaned closer, gazing in reverence at the runes carved around the rim. They were elegant and flowing, more like music than words. Harry recognized the script immediately; it was the language in the Red Book. "Can this be... did it belong to The Lady?" Snape whispered. A bit of breath condensed on the surface of the metal; Snape pulled away, aghast.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Galadriel's mirror. Don't worry, you won't harm it. Touch it, Severus, it will set your heart afire with hope. Go ahead!"

Snape glanced at him dubiously, then returned to the bowl. "Never! I wouldn't think of it. Its value is greater than Hogwarts Castle and everything in it. Priceless!"

"Indeed it is. Yet worth nothing if not put to good use. You undoubtedly see why the reproductions of this Pensieve lacked the power of the original."

Snape nodded, still gazing awestruck at the bowl. He finally stretched out a tentative fingertip, brushing it ever so lightly along the rim. Just the memory of that brief contact brought Harry a moment of pure ecstasy. Throwing his head back and arms wide, he broke off from Snape's mind and felt as though the entire universe had funneled through him as he stood upon the event horizon. He glimpsed two trees, silver and gold, their interwoven branches glowing with an impossible light. When the vision ended, Harry dove back into Snape's mind without even making eye contact.

When Snape finally spoke again, his voice was filled with gratitude and humility. "I am beyond honored, Albus. I think I'd do anything for the privilege of borrowing this... but what if it's not enough?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as their corners crinkled up, despite the fact that he was sighing. "It may not be, you're quite right. Young Harry does have a way of circumventing barriers. You'll have to use your discretion. Although I don't like Tom playing some unknown game with him, it is imperative that the key elements of my plan be kept between us. I trust you to know your limitations. Teach him, cautiously, and if the risks become too great, then stop. That's all I ask."

Snape gave the silver bowl a final loving gaze, then looked up at Dumbledore, who waved his wand to restore the stone veneer. "I will do my best, but whether it'll be sufficient..."

Dumbledore warmly took Snape's hand in both of his. "That is a question I ask myself regularly. I fear we'll both learn the answers much too soon."

Snape Occluded him and Harry permitted it, leaning back against the stone wall, not quite sure what to say. He stared at Snape quizzically, who asked, "That was the first memory I routinely placed in the Pensieve. Do you wish to go on to the second?"

"Is it about this plan?"

"Yes," said Snape. "Now that the plan is completed, there's no further need for secrets."

Harry replied by fixing Snape with his gaze.

Murky daylight barely revealed Dumbledore's back. Harry recognized the deep interior of the Forbidden Forest. Snape was disentangling himself from some prickly bramble which he did not bother to identify. He was deeply concerned that the headmaster had insisted they could not speak in his office; whatever he had to say, he would not even permit the portraits to hear it. Though Snape's heart was racing, his fingers were cold and pale.

Dumbledore halted suddenly and turned to face him, an infuriatingly lighthearted smile on his face. "Heavens above, is that a Scottish Primrose?" He stooped to examine the tiny purple flower and beamed. "I've never seen one this far south. A good omen, perhaps. I don't think I've ever come to this particular spot before."

Snape nodded anxiously, scanning the area for Merlin-only-knew what menacing creatures might be lurking. "Nor I, and I'd prefer to leave it as soon as possible. Can we get this discussion over with!"

"All right, Severus. I've brought you here to ask you... to kill me."

Harry ripped himself from Snape's mind in a fury. "Liar!" he shouted. "Never! You made that up!"

Snape gripped Harry's arms firmly. "Say what you want, Potter, but that memory is genuine. I couldn't believe it myself at the time. Do you want to see it or not?"

Harry glowered over the rims of his glasses. "I'm not sure. I think I want to slit your throat instead." He meant it, too; he was already fingering the handle of Voldemort's dagger sticking out of his boot.

Snape narrowed his eyes, then closed them, tipping back his head as far as it would go in an act of both surrender and defiance. The sight infuriated Harry even further, but he was forced to admit that he wanted to see the memory. He seized the front of Snape's hair and yanked his head forward again, gliding into his mind the second their eyes met.

"...to kill me."

Snape couldn't answer; he was speechless with shock and horror. He wondered if his ears had played some sort of trick on him. Waving his hands in the air, he backed away, shaking his head frantically. "What... what... Are you under the Imperius?" He reached quickly for his wand, but Dumbledore raised both hands abruptly, gesturing for him to stop.

"Steady on, Severus. I don't mean right this minute, here beside this lovely flower," he said with an impish grin. Snape dropped his hands to his sides, but continued to stare wide-eyed at Dumbledore.

"I've been studying this diary business," said Dumbledore. What diary? Tom Riddle's? thought Harry.

"Yes," Snape replied aloud, then they were back in his memory and Dumbledore continued. "It concerns me greatly that Harry was unable to destroy it alone. It very nearly succeeded in killing him."

I've always had help from Ron and Hermione-- Harry began, but Snape curtly asserted, "Be still!" Harry reluctantly returned his attention to the memory.

Snape nodded. "The Basilisk would have had Potter if not for Fawkes."

"Quite. But had I been present in Hogwarts at the time, Fawkes may not have done the same. You know he always looks out for my safety. But unless I am drastically mistaken, Harry will ultimately need his protection. He must face even more dangerous opponents than the Basilisk."

Snape felt an uncomfortable understanding beginning to bud. "Then you must explain it to Fawkes! Convince him to confer his protection upon the child!"

"You know it's not that simple," Dumbledore chided gently. "Fawkes Bound himself to me. His loyalty lies with me until I die. And we are nearing dangerous times; he will only grow more and more protective of me as the threat deepens. I cannot ask him to choose Harry over myself, any more than I could ask him to grow gills and become a fish."

Snape's voice was a ragged whisper. "You want to free Fawkes from his Bond. So you ask me... to murder." The two men faced one another silently for a long time. "You understand that I left his service so I need never kill again?"

Dumbledore averted his eyes. "You know I understand. This is not murder. My life will be given willingly to put an end to Voldemort's reign. I only need you to help me... carry out the mechanisms of that process."

"But why me?" Snape shouted, making Dumbledore jump in surprise. "There are dozens of Death Eaters in London right now who would love the opportunity. Let one of them do it, what difference would it make? Fawkes will be freed either way!"

"Oh, that's undoubtedly true," said Dumbledore in a soothing tone. "But I'm afraid I can't trust one of them to perform the deed at the time and place of my choosing. Besides, Tom will hold the one who ends my life in great esteem. I can think of no better way to guarantee that you will be at Voldemort's side when Harry faces him in the final hour... and an unexpected ally could make all the difference."

Dumbledore drew closer, placing his hands on Snape's shoulders. Snape was trembling violently, hyperventilating, panicking. Dumbledore's hands were warm and strong, a father's reassuring grip upon a terrifed child. Snape coughed once, twice, then allowed a sob to escape his throat. He threw his arms around the headmaster and pulled him close.

"Don't ask this, Albus. You... you're my friend. I didn't have the stomach to cut down total strangers! How can I..." Snape couldn't bring himself to say it.

Dumbledore stroked his back with one arm, cradling him with the other. "Because you'll know it's my wish. Because it's for the greater good." He gently withdrew from Snape's grasp, but held onto his hands firmly. "Because we both know if Harry does not stop Tom Riddle, no one will."

Snape stepped back, feeling lightheaded and growing very nauseated. "I don't... I can't... This is too much."

Dumbledore continued to hold his hands. "I have indeed asked a terrible thing of you. But I know no one else that can make such a vow and keep it hidden from Tom. Take your time, Severus. Let yourself adjust to the idea, and if you can accept it, give me your answer then. Harry's not even thirteen years old; the crisis won't peak for years yet. This needn't be rushed."

Dumbledore released Snape's clammy hands, to produce a few wrapped packets from a pocket of his robes. "Chocolate frog?" he asked warmly.

As the memory dissolved, Harry stared slackjawed at Snape, who said quietly, "In my whole life, Potter, I have won the love of two people. Both are dead. One by my own hand." His face screwed up with the effort of holding back tears.

"And one by mine," croaked Harry. Snape's face contorted briefly with despair, but he forced it back to neutrality.

"Both to stop that monster!" he blurted furiously, slamming his fist down on the cold earth. He stared, wild-eyed at Harry, panting, then it was as though he were crumpling inside, losing more of his angry resolve with every breath, until all that was left was sorrow. He buried his face in his hands, shaking with sobs, though he made no sound.

Harry slumped back onto the ground, reeling from information overload. The pieces were all there, he could even grasp it, yet he was dazed by the magnitude of it. He rolled it over and over in his mind, only dimly aware that Snape was present at all.

Hours could have passed, or minutes; Harry neither knew nor cared how much time had elapsed. He had found a sticking point in the story. Focusing at last on the current time and space, he quietly asked Snape, "What did you mean?"

Snape, who had long since exhausted his limited capacity for tears, answered, "By what?"

"When you said, 'What makes you think I can do better'."

Snape cocked his head slightly. "I said that?"

"When Dumbledore told you that I was... like the son he never had. That he couldn't bear to teach me Legilimency. You said, 'What makes you think I can do better?' Why?"

Snape stared pointedly at the ground. "I think the simplest way to answer that," he finally said, "is to show you more of the third memory. Rather fitting, I suppose." He looked up. "It is of a more personal nature, it has nothing to do with plans and promises."

Harry's face softened and he gazed only at the surface of Snape's eyes. "May I?" he asked respectfully.

Snape set his jaw and nodded.

For the first few seconds, Harry was completely disoriented. There was the lake at Hogwarts, but it seemed more like a reflection in a mirror. He also seemed to be in some sort of strange dark hole; he could not see his feet and there was grass tickling his cheek. But then he realized he was looking out at a forest of legs, ankles, shoes; he was hanging upside down, and to his horror, his robes were dangling around his head, exposing the rest of him for all those people to view.

His father's voice: "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"

Raucous laughter. The drawstrings of his underwear twitched against his belly. Murderous rage, cut with burning humiliation. Then the steady voice of Remus Lupin. "Prongs, come on. If I let you do it, I'll be in trouble. Give it a rest."

Harry felt Snape's relief as the suspension spell broke and he landed in a disheveled heap with all his clothes on. Though he still despised Lupin, a tiny glimmer of respect formed deep in his heart, not because the prefect had stopped the assault, but because he had done it without suggesting that James Potter show him mercy, or worse, pity. Snape stood up carefully, yanking his robes into position, but to Harry's surprise, he didn't give a thought to seizing his wand and casting a retributive hex at Potter. The only thing on his mind was Lily Evans.

Snape was on Platform 9 3/4, cringing in embarassment as his mother attempted to arrange his hair neatly. He couldn't wait to get on the train, to escape that nightmarish house for the first time in his life. There were so many other children, more than he had ever seen in one place before. There was a pretty girl, a redhead, just a few steps away. She seemed genuinely sad to say goodbye to her parents. He watched her in fascination; the concept utterly baffled him.

She was in his Potions class at the next desk, preparing Shrinking Solution. He happened to look her way as she was adding daisy roots to her cauldron, and he noticed that she was doing something strange. The instructions had called for them to be chopped as evenly as possible and added all at once. She had separated them into little piles, however, which she was adding one by one. He set down his own knife and roots, and leaned over for a closer look.

"Do you mind?" she said shortly.

"I'm just curious. Why'd you separate them like that?"

She flattened her lips a bit, then looked at him with a sort of odd consternation. "I, uh, don't know, really. It just seemed to make sense. I mean, no matter how carefully you chop them, they're going to be different sizes. The width of the root varies; if the pieces are all the same length, some will have a larger radius... It's just not clear in the book exactly what they mean by 'same size.' I mean, short of peeling them and cutting them into perfect cubes, you just can't get them exactly the same in every dimension..." She stopped, putting her hand over her mouth abashedly, as though she'd used a vulgar word.

Snape didn't even notice; he was peering closely at the little heaps, nodding. "Of course, of course. So you've separated them by, what? Weight, it appears. And you're adding the heaviest first?" He looked up at her, finding to his great surprise that she was staring at him in what seemed like wonder. He frowned and turned around quickly, but there was nothing unusual going on behind him. Once again, he was baffled. "What?" he said abruptly, expecting to become the butt of some prank.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just... most people tease me about this. That I... notice things like that," she said, again hiding her mouth behind her hand.

He furrowed his brow. "I notice things too." She cleared her throat awkwardly, and though there were no lines to read between, he got the message anyway. "Though I doubt my classmates despise me on the sole basis of what I notice," he said coolly, and returned to his desk.

He suspected she was feigning friendliness out of guilt or pity when she spoke to him again in their next Potions class, politely asking his opinion on crushing seeds versus simply cracking them open. He meant only to give her a cursory answer, but found himself caught up in a lengthy discussion. And so it was in the next class, and the next. He decided it was rather enjoyable to have a colleague that took their studies seriously, unlike the childish morons that comprised the rest of their class.

Snape wasn't allowed to be in the Slytherin common room at this hour, but he hadn't trusted himself to make it through the night without murdering his idiot roommates. He was far from the hearth and had deliberately turned the couch away from the fire in order to avoid discovery, so he woke up frequently from the chill. But this time, there were people talking; the firelight dancing on the wall above him was emerald green. He recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy, an intimidating 7th year student. Snape didn't dare sit up lest the leather couch creak, but he could lift his head to peek over the armrest with one eye, the other pressed hard into the back cushion. Several older students were speaking to someone through the fire, then began, one by one, to step into the flames and vanish. Holding his breath, Snape heard one say, "Knockturn Alley," and later, another. After the last one stepped over the hearth, Snape vaulted the couch and raced to the fire. Not knowing how much Floo Powder they had used, he dared to wait but a few seconds before jumping into the flames to follow them.

He had no sooner set foot in the destined hearth when he was jostled by another wizard trying to come through. The students had already vanished among the darkness and crowds. Climbing out, he noticed that most of the people around him were wearing either masks or hoods; he felt uncomfortably exposed, pulling up his collar as far as it would go.

Following the throng, he heard mutters of "the Dark Lord" and a thrill coursed through his body. People had spoken of Lord Voldemort around the Slytherin common room, but who knew what was fact versus speculation? He was eager to learn a few things firsthand, and began poking his head over people's shoulders, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man.

A hand suddenly clamped painfully on his arm. Snape realized with horror that in his haste to reach the Floo, he had left his wand on the couch. "Little mice who leave their cage at night should know better than to mingle with cats," whispered a malevolant voice. Lucius Malfoy looked down at him coldly, digging his fingertips painfully into his skin.

Snape glared, jerking his whole torso in an unsuccessful attempt to wrest himself from the older student's grasp. "What do you care, Malfoy?" he sneered. "I have as much a right to sneak out as you."

Malfoy released him with a condescending smile. "At the moment, perhaps. But after tonight, the gulf between my 'rights' and yours will be wider than you can imagine."

Snape licked his lips. "Are you going to pledge yourself to him? Tonight?" Malfoy didn't answer, but he raised his head higher. Snape was too awestruck to speak for a moment, then breathed, "I want to serve, too."

"Oh, you'll serve all right, if you hang around much longer--they'll serve your blood for the first toast. Get back to Hogwarts, little idiot, and come speak to me in a week. Now!"

Snape felt a brilliant new confidence from that day forth. He had a goal, a secret; it didn't matter what childish nonsense was perpetrated against him now, because his day would come very, very soon.

Bolstered with new confidence, he began to initiate conversations with Lily in class, and came to appreciate her insight during tricky procedures. Between the two of them, they found ways to improve nearly every recipie in their textbooks every year, though Professor Slughorn only seemed to notice Lily's work. Snape resented that, and didn't understand it until during their 5th year, when he began to notice Lily too.

It was rather a dilemma, actually, because he was deeply indoctrinated with the Death Eaters by then, and Lucius had even told Lord Voldemort about his uncommon talent as a potionmaker. There was no chance of backing out of the service he'd practically promised the Dark Lord, even if he was inclined to try. Instead, Snape daydreamed that he and Lily would offer themselves together as a team. Surely the Dark Lord would accept her skill, even though she was Muggleborn.

But there was simply no way to discuss the concept with Lily. Dumbledore would be livid if he learned that students were meeting with Death Eaters right under his very nose. The only place Snape dared speak about the Dark Lord was in the Slytherin common room, and no Gryffindor would ever set foot in there.

Snape dropped into an upside-down heap, disheveled but still clothed. Potter would pay for that, but not today. O.W.L.s were nearly finished, summer holidays were just around the corner, and, having followed Lily Evans out into the blinding sunlight, he was determined to finish what he started. He pushed through the crowd milling about like so many sheep and saw that she was already halfway around the castle. Once she got inside, she was sure to disappear. He ran after her, shouting "Lily!" when she reached the stone stairs.

She spun around, her face contorting when she saw who had called. "Oh, it's Lily now, is it?" she said in a surprisingly quiet voice, though there was no mistaking the rage behind it. "I thought it was 'filthy little Mudblood,' or has something changed again in the last two minutes?" She was shaking, her hands on her hips, with her wand clutched in the right.

Snape stopped short. That was a natural phrase in his daily crowd. It had slipped out so automatically he hadn't even noticed. He felt a strange twanging sensation everywhere at once, like plunging into cold water. Snape had insulted people viciously as long as he could remember, but this was the first time in his life that he cared that his words had inflicted pain. He stood agape, utterly at a loss for words, until she rolled her eyes and started to spin away.

"Lily." His voice was so deep and contrite, it startled him, but not nearly as much as the next words that escaped his lips. "I'm so sorry."

She stopped in mid-turn, staring vaguely toward Hogsmeade. "Sorry. Oh, that's good. That makes it all better. I've been your only friend for five years and you call me a--"

"Please don't say it!" he cried, and he ran the last few feet between them, reaching for her, then froze again. It was as if his body was acting on autopilot, with his head merely floating along for the ride. He didn't like it. Yet when he seized the controls, he realized he had no idea what to do, what to say. She was staring at him now, still simmering with anger, but at least she was there...

She was right there. He could smell her hair. There were always vapors in the Potions classroom that overwhelmed the nose, but out here in the fresh air, every breath he took was rich with her and it was making his mouth water.

"Lily," he said, "you are so... important to me, I can't even tell you how ashamed I am. You saw what was happening. I was beside myself! I said anything that would hurt him--"

"You hurt me, Severus."

"I know." His stomach fell somewhere down below the Earth's mantle. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes any second. Crying either preceeded or followed violence in his limited experience; he had no idea what his proper reaction ought to be. Then there was no more time to think about it, there were the tears, gliding down her cheek. This was a disaster. All he'd wanted to do was ask if he could visit her over the summer!

Once again, with the mind frantically distracted, his hand went off on its own and caught a teardrop with a fingertip, then brought it up to his lip.

She drew a tiny, rapid breath, and there was something new in her eyes, curiosity, or uncertainty, something questioning, hopeful. Snape leaned forward, retracing the path his hand had just taken, bringing his mouth to her cheek. Her eyes blazed before they fell shut, his lips dragging over her skin as she turned her head to meet him--

Harry Occluded so abruptly that he and Snape both jumped as though the ground had suddenly dropped three inches.

"If I ever feel your hands under her clothes, I'll kill you," said Harry in a dull voice, palming the hilt of the dagger again.

Snape scoffed in disgust. "Oh, you're a fine one to talk, Potter, having seduced and then slaughtered the woman I loved. I believe you've more than avenged yourself for my awkward teenage snogging with Lily Evans."

Harry's head bowed in contrition; the greasy git had a valid point. "It wasn't like that," he finally said heavily. "I loved her. Last night... well, neither of us knew if we'd live another day. No, she knew she wouldn't; she had every intention to die by my wand."

Snape held up his hands to silence Harry, his face contorted with pain again, but when the grief subsided, he nodded with a faint smirk. "I see. My Tura. Always in the moment, that one."

They sat musing in silence for a little while. Harry finally asked, "So what finally happened that summer?"

"Do you want to see it?"

Harry shuddered. "I'll pass. Just tell me the abridged version. Leave out the snogging."

"I did ask to visit her. She gave me permission." Snape's eyes unfocused. "I practically lived there, actually. Her parents tolerated me, but her sister, Petunia... Heavens above, Potter, I don't know how you lived with that wretched creature. Petty, jealous, utterly spineless, and determined to make everyone suffer just as she imagined she did. She brought home some smarmy bloke to prove a neurotic point about being as attractive or popular as Lily, I didn't quite follow it. I only met him the one time, but I could never forget him--a more pathetic, foppish git than Percy Weasley! Simply ghastly; Herman or Irving or something..."

"Vernon," said Harry glumly.

"Indeed! How did... oh." Snape made a face like he'd bitten unexpectedly into a bar of soap and then discovered a dead rat inside. "At any rate, I obviously wanted Lily to join the Death Eaters with me. She was a typical Gryffindor, but I thought she would respond to reason and logic. I truly believed it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord assumed control, and if she only understood how powerful he really was, she'd choose to join him, rather than die. So I endeavored to convince her.

"I taught her all manner of Dark spells, thinking that if she saw the many ways they could be employed, she might accept them as a useful tool for her magical arsenal. My grandparents studied the Dark Arts at Kemet, in Cairo, and had trained me since I was very small. I knew many Dark incantations that were useful and practical."

Harry's eyes bulged out and once again he fingered the handle of the dagger. "You tricked her into performing Dark magic without knowing it?"

"Oh, get off your high thestral, Potter!" Snape spat. "Not all Dark magic is evil, just as not all the approved spells are benign. Plenty of jinxes and hexes might as well be classified as Dark. Well, there are many Dark charms and potions that have nothing to do with controlling or harming others. Most spells were classified during the Great Wizard Compendia in the ninth century, and more often than not those decisions were based on ignorance or politics. Which you should have learned in History of Magic, if it weren't for that fool Binns and his obsession with the Goblin Wars." Snape shook his head with a look of pure contempt.

"But as I was saying," he continued, "I taught Lily all the spells I knew that were of a polite nature, telling her that I learned them from my grandparents. Being Muggleborn, she knew she'd missed out on many aspects of wizard culture, so she was naturally curious about 'family spells' being passed down through generations.

"We reached a crossroads, naturally, when I ran out of inocuous charms to share with her. Being young and foolish, I didn't give her any time to test and enjoy her new magic. I stepped right up to inform her that these were, in fact, Dark Arts, and wouldn't she like to continue to learn?" He winced with shame. "I spent many, many hours reliving that conversation, Potter. It taught me a great deal about the rules of persuasion. For when your mother realized what I was really driving at, she threw me out--bodily--from the house, and from her life.

"I can't describe how much I missed her in Potions. My life has always been broken down into discrete compartments. What happened in each world stayed there, you see--it had no effect on another persona. But Lily wasn't like that at all. I was stunned to find she had no intention to continue our work... or our friendship. I may have even been in love with her--I certainly thought so at the time, but looking back, it was all twisted up in lonliness and rebellion." He paused, wrinkling his nose.

"At any rate, Lil was determined to be a Model Citizen, to show all of Hogwarts how to stand up to the Death Eaters. She used the very spells I'd taught her that summer to encourage people to think up defenses. She left the Slug Club because of its ties to Slytherin House, which meant she spent nearly all her time with her Gryffindor cronies."

Snaped stared at the ground for some time before resuming. "I suppose I rather drove her into James Potter's arms. He was quite clear on his stance regarding Dark Arts and Death Eaters. They must have had some lively conversations in Gryffindor Tower. When I saw the two of them together, that last year..." Snape's fists clenched briefly. "I wanted to crush James Potter the day I met him. When he humiliated me after the O.W.L.s, down by the lake, I vowed to do it. But then that idiot Black set me up to be devoured by a werewolf, and suddenly I owed James Potter my life."

Harry bristled at the insult to Sirius, but he had recognized long before that his godfather, on that night, had been acting like a complete idiot.

"I think the Dark Lord enjoyed the irony," Snape continued. "I longed to kill Potter, but I was bound by a life-debt. V-Voldemort had no love for Potter, of course, but he, erm, appreciated twists of fate such as that. He sent me to spy on Dumbledore, and I took him the prophecy, not knowing what in particular it meant. I soon discovered that it was just the weapon I'd been waiting for. After you were born in the seventh month, killing Potter became a top priority for him. The father and the son. He wanted to take the Longbottoms first, the boy was a pureblood and presumably more dangerous, but I helped convince him to start with Potter."

"You mean with me," said Harry.

Snape gave him a pleading look. "You were nothing but a mewling little heap of smelly diapers at that time. I'd never even seen you. I couldn't bear to look upon the child of Lily and another man..." Snape paused, turning his head.

"When James Potter was gone," he finally continued, "I was sure Lily would come to her senses. I thought if she saw it firsthand, his power--she'd resign herself to service." Snape stopped, suddenly looking like a very old man.

"When Voldemort killed her," said Harry slowly, "that was when you renounced him?"

Snape nodded.

"My mother's death set you free," said Harry.

Snape cocked his head. "I suppose so, in some way. There were other issues, with which I won't bore you. But I learned I had a heart the day it was broken, and the guilt, Potter--" Snape's body curled as though a knife had been thrust in his chest "--that I had directed him to her..."

Snape's obvious grief tugged at Harry's heart. "It wasn't just you, you know," he said softly. "My mum and dad had enemies on all sides--just for being who they were, and for being my parents. You know Pettigrew betrayed them, helping Voldemort get past the Fidelius Charm. But so did Umbridge. She drove him to Godric's Hollow that night, so he wouldn't trip any wards with magic."

Snape's eyes bulged. "Dolores Umbridge?" Harry nodded. "That cow!"

Snape clearly wanted to inquire further, but Harry waved dismissively. "She's been dealt with. Trust me. I want to hear the rest of your story."

Snape gritted his teeth, but continued. "Very well. There's little left to tell, of course. When I heard what had transpired in Godric's Hollow, I threw myself at Dumbledore's mercy. Despite everything I'd done, Albus took me in. He protected me from the other Death Eaters and from the Wizengamot. To this day I don't know why he didn't denounce me on the spot, but he chose to forgive instead."

Snape sat back, and Harry felt another pang of empathy. "I suppose he never told you he was there that night," he said tentatively.

"What?!" Snape wasn't feigning innocence. Harry had never seen him so horrified.

"It's true," Harry sighed. "He was right there in my bedroom when it all happened. He was on the alert that night, but didn't know what would happen, or where. So he was checking in on several places. By the time he got around to Godric's Hollow, my dad had already been murdered. He had to let Voldemort mark me like the Prophecy said, so he had to stand and watch as my mother was killed."

Snape went deathly white, then lurched a few feet to the side and vomited.

A few minutes later, he crawled back and flopped on his side to face Harry. "That certainly adds a new perspective on events," he said weakly, then fell silent for a while.

"In that light, I suppose Albus was practically an accomplice, and had little choice but to forgive me," he finally commented. "At the time, however, I was awed, humbled, that anyone could be so generous. Only then did I understand the true nature of power. Voldemort's authority had impressed me greatly, but compared to Dumbledore's, it was but a house of cards. His hold on the Death Eaters was precarious, maintained only by constant threats. People gave themselves to Dumbledore willingly, without oath or ceremony, and stayed with him for life. Where Riddle required the Imperius curse, Albus needed only to wink."

Harry nodded. One didn't need to be branded with a Mark to join the Order of the Phoenix.

"Anyway, with time, my grief began to dull. Albus taught me that I could atone for what I'd done, and of course, Tura came along. I started to feel that I had a place in the world, that I was worthy to... remain alive." Snape paused.

"Then one year I was watching the new students arriving as I'd always done, and saw James Potter walking down the Great Hall just as he had 20 years before--with Lily's eyes, filled with wonder, right in the middle of his face." He sighed, interlocking his fingers and regarding them dully. "That gave me quite a turn. It's rather humbling when your most shameful secret walks right up and makes himself at home where everyone can see him.

"You were a constant reminder to me, Mr. Potter, that I had betrayed a dear woman out of selfishness and spite. I was playing a very dangerous role at that time, mingling with Death Eaters and spying for Albus. They expected me to despise you just as they did. So it was straightforward, really, to simply show the contempt I felt whenever I saw you. No one suspected it was not necessarily meant for you, but for my own despicable choices."

He sat up straight to look Harry in the eye, his tone taking on the cold fluidity to which Harry had long grown accustomed. "So, in answer to your original query, I don't remember asking Albus why he thought I could do better. You may not believe it, Potter, but despite all appearances, I have never hated you. I hated the reminder of what I had done. I hated your youth and your innocence, for you needed to discard both of those before you could rid us of the Dark Lord. But even Albus didn't understand that, even though you were James Potter's son, I never hated you. Because you were also Lily's, and for that reason alone I..." His breath hitched in his throat, but the unspoken words blared in his thoughts like a neon sign. Lily's son, whom I have no choice but to love.

Without even looking up, Harry charged into Snape's mind with all the power he could muster. If this was all some gigantic fraud, he was going to find out now. Harry ruthlessly forced open the compartments in Snape's mind where secrets lay hidden, not caring whether they were completely unrelated; wispy threads of terrors and shames, from childhood, from his years under Voldemort. The individual memories were no more than a blur, but their cumulative import came to him cleanly, reliably. It was just as it had been the night he Bonded to Fawkes, except this was but a single lifetime--it took only a matter of minutes for him to understand it all.

Snape lay curled on the ground, deathly white and wide-eyed. Harry felt that numbing calm descend on him, as it always did when he ransacked an unsuspecting mind. He rose to his feet, and extended his hand.

"Get up, Severus. Let's go home."

* * * * * * * * *

Bear in mind that these last chapters were written long before DH came out. JK Rowling and I clearly were thinking along the same lines as to Snape's motives, but I wasn't too crazy about her implementation. I hope you enjoy my slightly less obsessed Snape.