Chapter Thirteen: And the west moon

Note: AU. Not DH-compliant.

Chapter Thirteen: And the west moon

4 April 1998

Severus approached the gargoyle. He had a meeting with Hermione followed by one with the Headmistress and other Heads of House to discuss the next Hogsmeade weekend and whether the precautions they were taking were sufficient. Severus did not believe that any precautions were sufficient and believed that all future Hogsmeade weekends should be cancelled. Minerva, however, was convinced that with sufficient precautions, the weekends could proceed as they had for the previous five months. Since the anniversary of the Headmaster's death two weeks before, however, he had become convinced that Voldemort was moving more of his followers into Hogmeade. Whenever he had gone into the village recently, he had seen more people whom he recognised as Death Eaters. Of course, even though it was an open secret among the staff that he was a Death Eater and likely a spy for the Order, he could not mention that observation, nor most of his other concerns, but Minerva knew them well. She believed that as long as Voldemort believed that Severus was making progress on weakening the wards without her awareness of it, he would not overplay his hand and make any attacks in Hogsmeade. In principle, Severus agreed with her, but he still hoped that she had reconsidered since they had last spoken.

He entered the Headmistress's Office to find that there was another wizard there, one dressed in a long brown and green cloak and what appeared to be Graphornhide boots. The wizard turned from his contemplation of the view out the window, and Severus saw a broad-shouldered young man with curly chestnut hair, a short beard, and hazel eyes, wearing an embossed tunic that matched his boots and, peculiarly, a tartan kilt rather than robes. The wizard's lip curled in distaste as soon as he saw Snape.

"May I help you?" Severus asked coolly.

The wizard snorted and turned back to his contemplation of the view.

"Excuse me..."

"Never."

"Pardon?" Severus said, taken aback.

The wizard turned. "You don't recognise me, do you?"

Severus looked at him and shook his head, shrugging one shoulder. "Should I?"

"Yes, you should. You did what you could to ruin my life, so you should know me. But since the last time you saw me, I was only a second-year, I don't suppose you would. You probably didn't even give a thought to me."

"I..." The pin at the other wizard's throat caught Severus's eye, and he blinked. He remembered a witch who had worn that pin, a brooch depicting a raven and a snake. He swallowed and retained his composure. "You are Minerva's nephew."

"Not bad for a Slytherin. I find most of them not very bright. Devote too much of their brain to scheming and nastiness. I used to think differently about them, but I have since decided that my mother was what they call the proof of the rule, being an exceptional witch in every way."

"You are waiting for your aunt?" Severus said, trying to avoid confrontation and redirect the conversation away from uncomfortable topics.

"No. My brother. More like a father, in some ways. Because, as you know, my father was killed by Death Eaters. And then my mother was taken from me. And then, as if that weren't already bad enough, I lost all of my friends and everything that meant home."

"What? I thought . . . Crouch said your mother lived."

"You didn't even know until he told you?" Anger was evident in his voice. "You never asked, never were curious? I know you couldn't have cared, but that you weren't even curious!" The young wizard took a step toward Snape. "They say you've changed, but how could such a . . . a thing as you ever change?"

Severus took a step back, hitting the wall behind him. This wizard was clearly not like his quiet brother at all. He now vaguely remembered a young, long-haired McGonagall wizard, some relative of his Transfiguration teacher, but he had never paid much attention to him, and he hadn't noticed that when he began teaching, there were no McGonagall students at the school. There had been a few other McGonagalls at Hogwarts when he was a student, including a witch in his own House, but they had been older than he, and he had had nothing to do with any of them. He hadn't had much to do with anyone, really. Perhaps this McGonagall was right. He hadn't changed.

"And you are still here. After he disappeared, I thought that I could return to Hogwarts. Surely Uncle Albus wouldn't keep you here where you weren't needed or wanted. You didn't care about Hogwarts. I did. I loved it. I even dreamed that since I'd only been away for a matter of months, I could return to playing Quidditch. I had been the Beater on my team for less than a year when I had to leave to live with Robert. But Uncle Albus kept you on and Mum wouldn't let me return to a school that had hired a Death Eater. As surely as she was in exile, so was I. And I still am, I suppose, always. Because of you." As McGonagall spoke, he stepped closer to Snape, disgust written in his features. "I know," the wizard said softly but harshly, "I know what you did, and I do not forgive easily. I will never excuse you, Snape. Never. If it were up to me, I would kill you where you stand, put you out of your miserable existence."

Snape's wand had barely entered his hand when it was torn from him with a nonverbal Expelliarmus, flying across the room and clattering to the floor. McGonagall had a wand in his right hand, something else in his left, and now he was on him, one booted foot crushing Snape's left one, his breath hot in his face.

"I thought you were the big, bad Slytherin, the Death Eater a devil would love," McGonagall said in a low voice. "You were the feckin' Defence instructor last year, for Merlin's sake! You . . . are . . . pathetic, Snape!"

He stepped down harder on Snape's arch, causing Severus to grimace. "Could it be that you have changed? Developed a conscience, have we? That slow you down?" He thrust his wand into a loop at the side of his sporran, at the same time bringing his left hand up to Snape's throat. Severus heard a snick. He recognised the sound and swallowed.

"You really don't want..." Severus began.

"Don't you tell me what I want," McGonagall growled. "You couldn't imagine what I want."

Snape felt cold metal against his cheek. He kept himself from flinching or closing his eyes. "I don't want..."

"And I don't bloody care what you want!" McGonagall's hard hazel eyes drilled into his. "Feel bad now? Developed a conscience somewhere? Aren't going to defend yourself?"

"We are in the Headmistress's Office," Severus said smoothly, as if that explained all.

"Sacrosanct to you, is it? Not to me, Snape, not to me."

"Gareth." Robert's voice came from the stairs at the back of the office. "Gareth, step back, put that away."

"Why? Afraid I might maim your pet Death Eater? Perhaps slice off his wand arm?"

Severus felt the blade move lower and there was a slight whisper as the razor-sharp knife cut through the right arm of his teaching robe.

"This has tasted blood before, Snape. It might like yours." But Gareth stepped back, pressed a hidden button on the handle of the flick knife and then retracted the blade. "But I'm a Ravenclaw, not a headstrong Gryffindor. I won't injure the Order's pet Death Eater. I'm not that much of a fool," Gareth said, staring at Robert, who had come down into the office and now stood beside the other two wizards.

"I am sorry, Gareth," Robert said quietly. "I should have come down sooner."

Gareth shrugged and walked over to one of the armchairs and settled into it, his legs stretched out before him and crossed casually at the ankle.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Gareth pulled out his wand, swished it quickly, and Snape's wand flew across the room, Severus catching it neatly.

"Professor Snape, I must apologise. I did not know you would be here this early," Robert said regretfully. "Had I been aware . . . I would have been here to greet you."

"I have another meeting, Professor," Severus replied.

"Ah. I see." Robert hesitated. "I believe she may already have arrived, unless someone was leaving when one of you came through the gargoyle."

Severus shook his head. Robert glanced over at Gareth, who was now looking as relaxed as if he were on holiday.

"Other than Flitwick, whom I met on my way into the castle, this one is the only person I've seen since I got here," the younger wizard said, gesturing toward Snape.

Severus seemed to wince and he looked toward the library door. It was ajar. His brain seemed to buzz. She must have heard everything. Gods . . .

"Would you like me to speak with her, Severus?" Crouch asked gently. "I could explain..."

"No. There is no need." Severus looked over at Gareth, who was twirling his closed flick blade in one hand.

Gareth looked up. "Don't worry, Snape. I won't stab you in the back." He smirked.

Snape nodded slightly. "Professor Crouch, Mr McGonagall." With as much dignity and flair as he could muster, Severus turned and strode toward the library, ignoring the ache in his left foot.

When he entered the library, Hermione was sitting at the far end of the table, apparently engrossed in a book. Severus closed the door behind him and Hermione looked up. She smiled brightly at him.

"You needn't pretend you didn't hear all that, Hermione," Severus said quietly. "You may be a better actress than most Gryffindors, but I know you must have heard."

Hermione flushed and looked down at her book. "I'm sorry, Professor."

Severus came over and pulled out the chair opposite her.

After an awkward silence, Hermione asked, "What did he mean, about his mother and being in exile, the both of them?"

"You know that I joined the Dark Lord when I was very young," Severus said. "It is no excuse, but my reasons . . . were not the usual ones for a Death Eater, if there is such a thing. Nonetheless, I was a Death Eater. I had a great deal of anger in me, and other emotions that I did not understand and did not want. Being a Death Eater allowed me an outlet for that anger. I soon learned that it didn't decrease my anger at all, it only increased my disgust with myself. You know what happened to Potter's parents and to Longbottom's, and you know of many other atrocities committed by Death Eaters then and now." Severus swallowed. "I was a Death Eater, Hermione, with all that it meant." He shook his head slightly, then said, "You must see that you have developed, or believe you have developed, an attachment to someone with a very unsavoury past, to put it mildly."

"I know that, but what did he mean?" Hermione replied, persistent in her course.

"I was involved in an attack on his mother," he said, admitting it aloud for the first time since confessing all to Dumbledore more than fifteen years before. "She . . . she was not a young witch at the time. She must have had her son when she was quite old indeed. That is why I didn't immediately realise who this wizard was." Severus took a breath. "The other three Death Eaters were down. She fought like a demon, but there were Anti-Disapparition wards, and she couldn't escape unless she could flee on foot. I chased her. I caught her. I thought I'd have a bit of . . . a bit of fun with her before I killed her. Hermione, I cut off her wand arm. She was my teacher here at Hogwarts, a fellow Slytherin, and a thoroughly decent witch who had never done me any harm, and I thought it would be funny to cut off her wand arm, so I did."

Hermione blanched and stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had just said. "But she's alive," she whispered finally.

"Yes. She is alive. I was too much a coward to kill her. She picked up her wand, taking it from her own dead right hand, ready to continue, not giving up, and I just . . . I felt sick. I dropped the wards and she Disapparated. As far as I knew until recently, she might have died of her wound. It was at least as likely that she had died, or perhaps more so."

"You weren't a coward!" Hermione exclaimed. "You had regret and you let her go because you knew it was wrong to kill her."

Severus shook his head. "I was disgusted with myself, sickened, but it was no virtue to have let her go."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, then she asked, "She was your teacher?"

"Yes, she was. She was the Arithmancy instructor until she retired and Vector was hired," Severus replied. "All of us were her students. And she never did anyone any harm. She was a friend of Dumbledore and supposedly a Muggle-lover. Those were her crimes. After she was . . . After I maimed her, she apparently went into exile, then she removed her son from Hogwarts when she learned that I would be teaching here." Severus let out a long breath. "I saw a pin that McGonagall was wearing. I'd only seen it once before, on her, that night."

"What was her name?" Hermione asked softly.

"Professor Gertrude Gamp."

"But the Gamps are purebloods, I thought. One of Sirius's relatives was a Gamp, and her name wasn't blasted off the family tree."

Severus shrugged. "I don't think the Dark Lord really cares about blood. That's the nasty little secret. He will kill anyone he doesn't like and Mark anyone whom he can use. No Death Eater ever advertises that they are half-blood, of course...nor especially if they are Muggle-born, though there are only a very few of them. Once someone has taken the Mark, it's considered bad form to say anything about their ancestry, so there are a lot of people who believe the pureblood myth. That Professor Gamp was a pureblood meant nothing; that she was a friend of Dumbledore outweighed anything else. Look at how the Weasleys are viewed. Blood-traitors, they call them, and Muggle-lovers."

"I see," Hermione said.

Severus said nothing. Hermione ran her finger over the spine of the book.

"I learned more about Horcruxes and about brother wands. I have a theory about Harry, but I think we should discuss it another day. Tomorrow, perhaps."

Severus nodded. "There will be a meeting in the Headmistress's Office in fifteen minutes. We haven't time now. Tomorrow after dinner."

Hermione stood and picked up her book bag, leaving the other book on the table. "I will see you tomorrow evening, then." She came around the end of the table. She stopped and impulsively reached out and squeezed his arm. "You are very brave, Professor Snape. It must have been terribly hard to have done those things and then to leave, knowing what he would do to you if he found out and knowing what everyone in the Order would think of you. What you did was horrific, but you left. You did change. He couldn't know it, but you have changed. No one will ever know how hard that was for you, and it gives me hope."

An hour and a half later, Severus stood to leave with the other Heads of House, the meeting having gone well, from his perspective, but Minerva said, "Professor Snape, stay a moment, please."

He sat again. When the others had left, Minerva came around the desk and took the chair beside him.

"Robbie told me what happened, and I spoke with Gareth as well. I am very sorry, Severus," she said. "I would like to thank you for your restraint. I understand that Gareth was deliberately provocative."

Severus shrugged slightly. "He is your nephew, your brother's son, and he has good reason for his anger." He paused then looked Minerva in the eye. "I have been thinking about what happened, about what I did to her. I don't know whether it was the worst thing I did then, other than betray Lily, but it was certainly one of the worst things. I drove it out of my mind for years, never even acknowledging it. After meeting Crouch . . . he has been a daily reminder. He has his mother's eyes. And I was constantly forced to remember that, remember what I did. I can honestly say that I don't really understand why I did what I did. The reasons I gave myself at the time were disingenuous, to say the least. And it isn't as simple as saying that I am a nasty bastard. Or that I was an even nastier bastard then. All I do know, what I am certain of, is that I could not do that now, certainly not as I did then. But that doesn't change the fact that I did what I did. I did that and other things that would disgust and horrify any decent human being." He closed his eyes and sighed.

Minerva reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You did. And they were horrific. When Gertrude told me that it had been you, it made me even more sick, sad, and angry than I had been when I first heard about the attack. I had never believed that you could be capable of such utter, wanton, sadistic evil. It was one of the hardest things to forgive you for. Even more difficult than to forgive your betrayal of the Potters, since that had been unintentional on your part, the end result, anyway."

"I did other things, too, things that were dreadful. Things that were evil," Severus said in a low voice. "I cannot even tell you of them."

Minerva sighed, then she said, "You are the sum of all you have done, Severus. You still can do more good. You have done a lot of good already, and you have suffered in order to do it. It has not been easy for you. And when this is all over, you will need to learn to live with it all, the bad and the good."

Severus snorted. "You persist in believing I will survive."

"I hope you will. We will do all we can to avoid your death. It may not be sufficient, and it would be foolish to be unprepared for that, but I still hope you will live." Minerva smiled slightly. "You may live and I might not. We do not know. We cannot control everything. We can only do our best."

Severus just shook his head.

"Now, take off your left boot. I want to see your foot." When Severus glared at her, Minerva drew her wand. "I could do it for you. Or I could call Poppy."

Severus glared some more, but he crossed his left ankle over his knee and grimaced as he tugged on the boot.

"It's swollen," Minerva said. "Let me charm it off."

Severus put his hands on the arms of the chair and nodded. Minerva waved her wand and Severus's short black boot disappeared from his foot and settled neatly beside his chair, then she did the same with his sock. Minerva pulled a tin of salve from the pocket of her robe.

Leaning forward to look at his bruised foot, she said, "I don't think anything is broken. I think a Detumescens, a Solatus, and some of this salve should fix you up." Minerva cast the spells to reduce the swelling and soothe the discomfort, then she handed the potion tin to Severus. "I think you should apply this before putting your sock and boot back on."

As Snape returned to the dungeons, he cleared his mind. He could not afford to think about McGonagall, but it seemed he could not stop himself. At least he might be able to create some distance between his thoughts and his feelings about it all. It had been difficult to keep himself from lashing out at the younger wizard, but between his surprise at the man's existence and his awareness that he was McGonagall's nephew, Severus had managed. It also seemed to him that he had already caused the other wizard sufficient pain.

He could never completely repay all he had done. The pardon that Albus had won for him had exonerated him for all of his crimes based upon his service to the Order, but Severus was very well aware that Albus had not completely revealed the extent of those crimes. At the time, he had not wanted to admit to them all, though Albus had forced him to tell him everything before he would hire him to teach. Now, Severus felt that even though he probably would not have been pardoned had the Wizengamot and the Ministry known the grisly details of his misdeeds, it might have been better if he had made a public admission. He did not think that it would have helped him at the time, but perhaps if he had done that, by now he would have learned to live with it better. Or he'd be mad from having been imprisoned on Azkaban for years.

Severus entered his quarters and lowered himself into his favourite wingback chair, the cushions worn to cradle him perfectly. He Summoned an ottoman and put his feet up, then he closed his eyes. The worst part of the entire confrontation was the fact that Hermione had overheard it all. Gareth McGonagall's anger and his taunts were nothing compared with the expression on Hermione's face when he confessed to her that he had thought it would be amusing to cut off Gamp's arm, and so he did. Hermione had a ruthless streak of her own, but she would never do anything cruel merely for the sake of cruelty or amusement, and she certainly wouldn't do anything of that sort to someone who had not brought it upon themselves. Hermione probably wouldn't do something like that...cut off someone's wand arm...even if provoked unless she had no other option. There was a level of cruelty in that which went beyond self-defence. And it hadn't been self-defence in his case; the witch had been defending herself against him.

Severus didn't know what was wrong with Hermione. She seemed willfully blind to his nature. She claimed to know that he was a nasty bastard, yet even now that she knew what he was capable of, or what he had been capable of at one time, she persisted in believing in him, caring about him. She had clearly been appalled by his confession, but she seemed to have forgiven him almost immediately. Severus simply didn't comprehend how she could do that. He disgusted himself.

Gareth McGonagall's reaction was far easier for him to understand. Anger, disgust, hatred . . . he had deserved every word of censure that had crossed the younger wizard's lips, save, perhaps, for his criticism of his defensive abilities. He had not wanted a violent confrontation with McGonagall, and he had had the sense that the younger wizard, despite his words and actions, was looking for a reaction from him and had never intended to do him any physical harm. Still, he was not unhappy that Crouch had entered when he had, though he wished that it had been Minerva. He did not like being grateful to the shadow.

Severus sneered at himself. Grateful to a wizard whose very presence he resented. His life was filled with ironies. Crouch had sounded more than politely apologetic; he seemed genuinely sorry that he had not been there earlier to diffuse the situation before it escalated as it had. He had even expressed concern for Severus and had offered to speak with Hermione for him. The apothecary was an even greater enigma than he had been when he first met him over a year before.

Whereas Crouch was an irritating enigma, Hermione merely puzzled him. She was not stupid or lacking imagination. She must be able to comprehend what he had done. What Severus could not understand was why she continued to have any respect for him, and even affection, and he certainly could not understand how she could find any cause for hope in anything he had done.

There was someone at his door. Severus grimaced and stood. He had always declined to have a portrait at his door, preferring to rely upon his own wards and not wanting any connection at all to the castle's portrait network. He could ignore his caller, but if there was trouble in Slytherin, he needed to know, and if it was a member of staff, they would persist.

He stood back from the door and flicked his wand. When he saw who was outside his door, Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Come to accost me in my own rooms?" he asked. "I may not exercise as much patience."

"I am on my way out."

"The great doors are two levels above this one," Severus said.

"May I enter?"

Severus nodded, but he left the door open behind the wizard.

Gareth wandered about the room. "Ugly little room. Not at all like when Slughorn was Head of House. He used to have these . . . soirees. Overstuffed popinjay."

"You don't mince words, do you?"

"Never, Snape." Gareth had managed to position himself in the dead centre of the room, seeming to dominate the space, but Severus didn't allow that to disturb him.

Severus shut the door, then he stood and waited, not inviting the other wizard to tell him the purpose of his visit, but waiting until the silence between them grew and compelled his unwelcome visitor to speak.

Gareth seemed amused. He sauntered over to Severus's favourite chair. He looked at it and the ottoman as though they were the most interesting things he had ever laid eyes upon, then he turned and scanned the titles of the books that Severus kept on the shelves in his sitting room. Their innocuous contents caused the young wizard to smirk. He stepped back into the centre of the room, unbuckled his sporran, and pulled out a short, dark pipe and a small bag of tobacco. Severus twitched. Gareth grinned. He filled the bowl, tamped the tobacco down lightly, then flicked a finger and lit it. As the younger wizard puffed at the pipe, the scent of a rich tobacco filled the room. Severus clenched his jaw. As Gareth smoked, he stood there looking as relaxed as if he were lounging in his own bed.

Finally, Severus said, "You didn't come here to smoke your pipe."

"I didn't? News to me, especially as that is what I am doing." Gareth walked over to the fireplace and knocked out the tobacco then cast a few charms on the pipe before returning it to his sporran. He turned and faced Severus. "I ought not have spoken to you the way I did in Aunt Minerva's office. You were her guest and her Deputy. You should be able to enter her office without being accosted." His cheek twitched. "I ought to have waited."

Severus nodded, acknowledging the statement.

"Nonetheless, what I said was true, but I will not repeat it, especially not here in your own rooms." The young wizard suddenly seemed much older as he drew in a deep breath and let it out. "And I want to let you know . . . I will not forgive you, I simply cannot, but as a member of the Order, you do have my promise of assistance if ever you need it. And not only will I never stab you in the back, but I will stop anyone whom I see trying to." Gareth swallowed. "I can't do any better than that. I am not the man my aunt and my mother wish me to be, but I can still do the best I am capable of, and that much I can manage."

Severus looked away from McGonagall for the first time since the younger man had entered his sitting room. "You have good reason for your feelings and I would not dissuade you from them. You have shamed me twice in one day, and I do not blame you for that, either." He turned his head and his eyes met Gareth's. "If doing so would make your mother whole, I would give up both my arms."

"Yes, well, it wouldn't, so it's an easy enough thing to say," Gareth said softly.

"Your brother once wondered whether it was cruelty or kindness that caused . . . that caused me to drop the wards. It was neither. It was sheer disgust at myself and what I had done. That disgust has only grown with the years. Disgust, regret, shame, guilt . . . I do not forgive myself, so I do not see why you should even think to forgive me."

"Do you care? Do you care whether I forgive you?"

Severus shrugged one shoulder. "Until today, I did not know who you are. I . . . I do not expect or deserve your forgiveness, and the forgiveness of any others always amazes me. I do not understand it."

Gareth nodded. "Because you do not forgive. I have learned that much myself. It is hard to understand forgiveness when you can't forgive. I have forgiven much, but there are some things . . . some things that I simply cannot. I hated Uncle Albus for years. When he kept you here at Hogwarts, it was easy to hate him. I knew him, I had loved and trusted him, and it seemed that he had betrayed both my mother and me. My mother didn't feel that way, but I couldn't help myself, particularly once I verified what no one had told me but which I had come to suspect: that you were not just any Death Eater, you were the Death Eater who had done that to her. Eventually, I understood what Uncle Albus did and why, and then later, I forgave him. I loved him, you see. Even when I was burning with rage and hatred, I loved him, and that is why it hurt so much. Yet that is also how I forgave him." Gareth looked closely at Severus. "You have never forgiven a single hurt in your life, I imagine. Every little offense eats at you until it's replaced by another offense. I don't know the cure for you, and personally, if you go through the rest of your life feeling utterly miserable, I won't shed a tear for you. Perhaps if you found someone who would shed that tear for you and your misery, you might be able to claw your way out, maybe even forgive yourself. I doubt it, though. You will probably die with that misery in your heart."

With not another word, not even a good-bye, McGonagall crossed the room, exited the suite, and closed the door quietly. The scent of his tobacco lingered behind.