A Weakness Unforgiven

The letters blurred in front of her, black and white dissolving into a sea of different shades of grey. Hermione sighed as she leaned back in the oak chair and pressed the heels of her hands against her burning eyes. It was late afternoon, and she had been in the library for hours revising for her Astronomy OWLs that evening.

When she let her hands sink again and looked around, a knowing smile touched her lips. Next to her, Ron had fallen asleep, his head pillowed on his arms. Carefully, she removed the green leaflet on a career as a dragon tamer he was still holding from his hand before her gaze travelled to Harry. He was sitting two places opposite to her. An open notebook, quills and a sea of Astronomy notes lay in front of him on the table, but his eyes lingered absently on the library window. He had appeared quiet and withdrawn during the Easter break, and his condition hadn't changed since. Thus, with only the Astronomy and History of Magic exams still to pass and the worst of their OWLs already over, Hermione became more and more worried that Harry wasn't simply suffering from the exam stress they all had experienced.

Her gaze lingered still on her friend's face as Harry momentarily flinched in pain and only seconds later, with a seemingly unconscious gesture, rubbed his forehead. Ghost-like fingers ran cold down her spine. This was the fourth time she had noticed him doing it today. The previous day, when for the first time she had realised how often his scar appeared to hurt, she had started to count. This wasn't supposed to happen. The Occlumency was supposed to shield him from You-Know-Who's emotions, but obviously it didn't, despite all his reassurances to the contrary. Hermione bit her bottom lip. He couldn't go on like that.

Harry was endangering himself and everyone else belonging to the Order if his thoughts were an open book to You-Know-Who. She needed to persuade him to ask Professor Snape to resume his Occlumency lessons. Even Sirius had told him to do so. But Harry? Harry hadn't. He probably never would. Hermione's brow furrowed at the thought. She didn't care how advanced Professor Snape thought him to be in order to practice Occlumency on his own. He wasn't, and if Harry continued to refuse to talk to Professor Snape, she would do it herself.

... talk to Professor Snape. She slumped forward and rested her elbows on the table, burying her head in her hands. She hadn't come face to face with her professor since her discovery in the library; she had been eternally grateful for that. Ever since she had found the photo of him and Lily, she felt as if she had beheaded a Hydra. While she may had found the answer for which she had so desperately searched, her mind spun now with new questions: questions she had no answers for and that twisted her heart in unknown ways. She had spent sleepless hours alone wondering if she needed to tell Harry about Professor Snape's love for his mum.

It had been one thing to keep the information from Harry while it was still a mere suspicion on her heart, but now, now that she knew, wasn't she obliged to tell him? However, every morning during breakfast, the look into her friend's tense face had let her decide otherwise.

There were so many missing pieces to this puzzle. What had Professor Snape and Harry's mum been to each other? Friends. That much was obvious... but lovers? And if they had been lovers, for how long and what would it change now? In the last five years, Hermione had seen Harry draw so much strength and comfort from his parents' memory, so much that it even shaped his Patronus. In some way they had been with him in the fight against Quirrell, and they had been with him in the graveyard last year when he faced You-Know-Who; Hermione was certain that they would be with him in the next inescapable confrontation with the dark wizard.

No, she would never have the heart to cast the slightest shadow over this memory by telling Harry about a love that, unrequited or not, was buried deep in the past, a love she should never have disturbed. But she had. She had opened this Pandora's Box, and now all those new questions haunted her like a punishment. Yet, among all those questions, there was one that settled with an undeniable heaviness on her breast from time to time.

How, in the name of all that was sacred, was it ever possible that Professor Snape joined You-Know-Who if he had loved Lily, had loved a Muggle-born witch with all his heart? Hermione had no answer, no explanation to solve this paradox and keep it from tightening her chest whenever her eyes met the Potions master's face. And every time, the bitter angle of his mouth only reminded her how the smile he had given Lily had changed his features – had changed him.

Hermione sighed and lifted her head again. A moment later, Harry turned his head and caught her gaze, yawning. "How about dinner? I don't think I can read another line without something to eat. You?"

"Starving, actually." She cast him a wry smile as she gestured towards Ron's sleeping form. "I guess we should wake him, then."

"Yeah, we better do," said Harry, grinning, as he collected the notes in front of him. "He would never forgive us if we allow him to miss dinner."

Hermione placed her right hand gently on Ron's shoulder. However, the light squeeze she gave him wasn't enough to wake her sleeping friend. It was merely rewarded with a deep growl of protest. Hermione smiled and leaned forward, bringing her lips close to Ron's ear.

Gentle words to finally rouse him from his slumber had already formed on her lips when the nutmeg-like scent of Ron's hair teased her senses. Her heart plummeted painfully, a feeling that was all too familiar by now. She swallowed, but no sound would come from her dry mouth. A moment later, she felt Ron stir beneath her hand and withdrew it silently, waiting for him to wake up on his own.

Several minutes later, the trio entered the Great Hall, where the sight of an abandoned seat next to the toad-faced Headmistress tightened Hermione's chest with a different kind of pain.

Snape didn't spare a second glance at the delicate female hand that placed the glass of Firewhisky on the antique table in front of him and bided his time until the waitress retreated. Only when the fireside lounge was finally deserted did he look up and meet the grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. Even in the warm light of flaring flames, they preserved an icy expression.

"So, why I am truly here, Lucius?" Snape asked. "Obviously, you haven't asked me to come all the way from Hogwarts on such short notice to merely share a drink with an old friend."

Malfoy's owl, with a request to meet him at his wizarding society tonight, had reached him only hours ago, something that happened only when it was truly important. However, instead of answering Snape's question, the blond wizard seized his glass of Firewhisky and emptied it with a single gulp.

Placing the goblet on the table again, he leaned back in the armchair. "Our Lord paid me a late visit last night, Severus. He is confident he has found the solution to acquiring the prophecy."

Snape cast Malfoy an unimpressed look over the rim of his glass as he sipped at the liquor, ignoring the sudden flicker of foreboding in his chest. Several equally devastating scenarios could result from this development; and he decided that he would prefer not to be confronted with either one of them while he waited for Malfoy to continue his report. Time passed, yet the blond wizard remained silent, his gaze lingering on the flaring flames in the fireplace.

Eventually, Snape said, "This is excellent news, Lucius, but I don't see why they require my presence tonight. Certainly, our Lord wishes to introduce us to his new plan himself the next time he summons us."

"Certainly, Severus, and there will be a summoning very soon. However –" Malfoy turned to face him, "the Dark Lord wants you not to answer his next call. He has decided that, in the unlikely case that the plan should fail, he does not wish to compromise your important position at Hogwarts as well."

This time, it was Snape who emptied his glass with a single gulp.

"Well," he drawled, turning the empty crystal goblet between his palms, "one would be believe our Lord still doesn't trust me." It was more of a statement than a question, but Malfoy took it on nevertheless.

"At least not completely, my friend, and –" his delicate mouth twitched with obvious distaste, "our dear Bellatrix does her utmost that it remains this way."

Snape leaned back in the armchair and crossed his arms in front of his chest, thankful that the gesture hid the slight trembling of his hands. "I wish I could say I am surprised."

"She is actually convinced you gave Dumbledore the information that the Dark Lord pursues the prophecy," said Malfoy, waving a hand dismissively.

Snape snorted. "As if that wasn't easy for the old fool to deduce after the incident with the Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries."

"Exactly my notion. What was his name again, ah yes, Bode. Well, that was unfortunate, and poor Avery has still to recover."

"Anyway," Malfoy went on as he reached for the empty goblets and refilled them, "I am confident I have discovered the considerable reason why our Lord is, well, a little edgy about your loyalty, Severus."

"A considerable reason, Lucius?" Snape asked, sneering. "You mean beside me staying for over sixteen years at Hogwarts after the Dark Lord's fall and not appearing at his side immediately when he called me and it was incontrovertible that his Lordship had returned?"

However, the blond wizard simply placed a goblet brimful with liquor in front of him and insisted when Snape made a declining gesture, "Drink it. You'll need it."

Eventually, Snape took the crystal and raised it in a mock toast. Yet even the burning liquid in his throat couldn't keep the cold breath of fear that seized his chest away.

"It seems," Malfoy went on when Snape placed the goblet down again, "his Lordship is concerned that he knows too little about your desires, my friend – or as we should better call them, your weaknesses, Severus." Malfoy made a prominent pause and straightened himself in the chair before he added with a cold smile, "Well, apart from that unfortunate aberration for a certain witch of regrettable parentage you once harboured. Imagine my surprise, Severus, when his Lordship shared this piece of information with me before inquiring as to your recent taste in witches."

A simple statement, made almost casually; however, the words crushed what Snape thought to be left of his heart with the merciless strength of an iron claw. Suddenly, he felt cold. And tired. And lost. And it would be forever because he had lost her. Lost Lily. Forever.

And the Dark Lord remembered, remembered it all too well; his follower's weakness was unforgiven.

"What did you tell him, Lucius?" Snape asked, not able to keep the waver from his voice.

"Relax, Severus, I told him truthfully that, at least to my knowledge, you never wasted yourself on another Mudblood again. Actually, I don't care whom you desire or –" Malfoy's mouth twitched once more with distaste, "love – as long as you keep your hands of my wife."

"And it remains better this way, friend." Snape cast the blond wizard a lethal look before he inquired, "Did your answer satisfy his Lordship?"

"For the moment it would appear so, but that doesn't solve your problem, Severus," Malfoy stated arrogantly. "Therefore, where was I? Ah yes, your weaknesses. Look at Greyback, or better, look at me. Severus, we are both perfect examples of how easy it is to rule a man if you know how to grant him his illicit desires or threaten his loved ones. And the Dark Lord has cultivated his abilities in both of those illustrious categories," the blond wizard carried on while he sipped at his liquor. "And now, tell me, friend, what weaknesses have you revealed to the Dark Lord since his return? Weaknesses he could use to ensure your obedience?"

Snape remained silent. Once, he wouldn't just have traded his life and loyalty for the one woman he loved. He would have sold his soul to keep her safe. Thus, the Dark Lord had been blind to the power he had held in his cold claws, and Snape had vowed he would never allow the mad man to have a second chance at acquiring it.

Malfoy gave him a cold smile. "None, obviously, which is fortunate, very fortunate for you, my friend. However, you will soon need to give him something, something of value, if you want to console his doubts."

"I don't see why –" Snape tried to disagree, but Malfoy cut him off, a grave look on his face.

"Think, Severus, this time the Dark Lord may have been placated by my word, but what about the next time? He has already begun his search for your vulnerable spots, and you surely don't want him to think of other ways to test your loyalty in the meantime. An innocent Muggle family is always easily found. Or how about one of your Mudblood students?"

Snape swallowed imperceptibly. Malfoy was right. From time to time, the Dark Lord relished in playing with his followers, testing their loyalties. He had witnessed such revels before, and the victims, innocent Muggles mostly, could only hope for the mercy of a quick, painless death.

So far, he had been fortunate enough not to be subjected to providing such proof of loyalty. However, if the Dark Lord had begun to question his obedience, it was predictable that his luck would wear out soon. He had always braced himself for whenever the moment would come; he had even tried to discuss it with Dumbledore. Yet the old man had merely told him that there was no such thing as victory without sacrifice.

However, he had never thought... never prepared himself for the unholy possibility that the Dark Lord could test him with one of his own students.

A Muggle-born student. For a moment, Snape closed his eyes, fighting the sudden wave of nausea that rose, with every heartbeat, higher in his throat. Malfoy's suggestion had summoned the image of one particular Muggle-born student to the forefront of his mind; her hazel eyes were wide with terror while she stood in the middle of a circle of dark, hooded figures, who all waited for him to....

He swallowed. Once. Twice. Only decades of practised self-control kept him from leaping forward and demanding with his wand at the other wizard's throat to know if the Dark Lord had already mentioned such a plan.

Miss Granger would be the most logical choice, given her closeness to Potter... given his own past. And it would all be his fault.

My fault alone.

Snape leaned slowly back in his chair. "About the students... Did he tell you –"

"No, but I heard Rodolphus suggest something similar," Malfoy admitted gravely. "However, as long as the Dark Lord isn't acting openly, I don't think he will risk such bold acts."

...but soon he will, Snape thought. It was all just a matter of time. The Order had to take preventive measures immediately. He had to take preventive measures, had to find a way to keep the girl safe. Somehow.

"Why are you telling me all this, Lucius?" Snape asked suspiciously; however, the part of his mind that was still capable of rational deductions already suspected why the blond wizard risked giving him this warning. It was a Slytherin worthy gamble. If Malfoy were successful in obtaining the prophecy, he would easily be forgiven should his master learn about their conversation. If he failed him, he had given Snape the means to rise in the Dark Lord's trust. A position from where it was far easier to protect Naricssa and Draco....

"Why?" The blond wizard laughed. "Severus, surely you can't blame an old friend for trying to ensure his Lordship holds you in highest regards?" Malfoy elaborated, his voice still laced with amusement. Only the solemn look in the grey eyes that pierced Snape conveyed the true meaning behind his words.

"It would seem I cannot."

Malfoy gave him an arrogant smile while he placed a small, cream-coloured card on the table and slid it with two elegant fingers towards the Potions master. Snape picked it up and graced first the card and then the blond wizard with an askance look. The small item contained nothing but an address at the better end of Knockturn Alley in Malfoy's handwriting.

"Ask for Ivy. She owns the establishment. Well, that's not quite true. At the moment, I still own it, at least until she pays me that small credit back," Malfoy explained, obviously quite pleased with himself. "She will make sure that your visit will not go unnoticed. In fact, if someone would ask her, you have been a frequent visitor with a certain desire for, let's say, fair-haired witches from Europe, Half-blood at the least, certainly. The Dark Lord will have no doubts about your newfound taste for worthier women anymore, my friend."

Snape forced a knowing smirk to curl his lips. Malfoy had truly taken all possible precautions. A lifetime ago, during the apprenticeship the Dark Lord had arranged for him with Alexis Canterbury, the leading Potions Master in the field of the Dark Arts in wizarding Britain, he had tried for uncounted nights to erase the memory of Lily. He had tried to forget how she had stood – vibrant with life and happiness – in this foolish white Muggle dress next to Potter by succumbing to these kinds of false kisses. They had been futile attempts. In the morning, each of them had tasted as bitter as the bile on his tongue right now.

"Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, Lucius." Snape rose from the armchair, slipping the unimposing item into the pocket of his frockcoat. "However, as much as I enjoyed your company, I have to leave for Hogwarts again."

"Yes, certainly. I would never try to keep you away if the Headmistress requires your presence, my friend," said Malfoy with feigned amusement, rising as well.

Both men regarded each other for a long moment until Snape extended his hand, and Malfoy grasped it, sealing once more their unspoken alliance.

The night was warm and close when Snape stepped out into the street. He heaved several breaths, trying to squelch the nausea that was finally on the verge of overwhelming him. However, a few steps along the abandoned side street somewhere in London, he eventually lost the fight. The moment he pushed his hands into the pockets of his frockcoat, his fingers closed around Malfoy's card and, suddenly, all its implications seeped sickeningly like a poison beneath his skin.

With a few swift strides, he moved into the shadows of a house wall and emptied his stomach of the scarce content. He remained there for several minutes, leaning against the masonry with his head rested on his forearm while he waited for the burning in his raw throat to subside. He knew he needed to follow Lucius' advice and pay Ivy a visit. It was inevitable and needed to be done all too soon if he wanted to erase the Dark Lord's doubts. It was only a new stage of his private hell, one he would gladly take if it meant sparing more innocents lives... if it meant keeping the girl safe.

Yet, not tonight. Snape turned from the wall and drew his wand. Tonight, it was pivotal that he inform Dumbledore and the rest of the Order of the Dark Lord's plan to make another attempt to pursue the prophecy.

A second later, he Apparated in front of Grimmauld Place.

Snape stepped quietly through the front door of Headquarters, careful not to wake the portrait of Mrs Black, only to realise that someone else had already accomplished this task. In the hallway, the screaming of the old hag mixed with a multitude of angry voices could be heard from the other end of the hallway. Snape listened in for a moment. Nearly all the Order members had to be present. Silently, he approached the living room and leaned loosely against doorframe. Inside, assembled around the large wooden table, Black, Lupin, Tonks, Molly and Arthur were still lost in their heated discussion and oblivious to his arrival. A sneer curled his mouth. He would bet a month's worth of Galleons it was once again something concerning the insolent boy that had blown away the usual, unbearable harmony like a house of cards.

"I will not agree to this, Sirius!" Molly rose from her chair, her hands nervously collecting the dishes from the table.

"This is not for you to decide, Molly. Let Harry and his friends make the choice themselves."

Snape's lips thinned. Once again the universe revolved around the precious Potter.

"Sirius is right, Molly. They have a right to," the werewolf agreed.

"Molly, you must admit that –" But whatever her husband had wanted to say was lost in the sound of the clattering china that was set forcefully on the table.

"No, Arthur, I must not. This is insanity. They are still children. I won't allow that they join the Order before graduation."

"Children?" Snape scoffed, alerting the others to his presence. "You are fooling yourself, Molly."

Five pairs of eyes turned to him, but it was Black who spoke first. "Snape, what an unpleasant surprise."

"Sirius!" Molly and Lupin scolded in unison, before Molly continued. "Severus, I can't understand how you can support this. Harry, Ron, Hermione, they aren't even of age."

"However, they aren't children any more either. They have hardly ever been children since they boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time: Potter by fate, and your son and Miss Granger by association," Snape stated, his mind adding an unspoken 'Unfortunately' to his last words.

"Severus has a point here, Molly," said Lupin. "Those three have faced more dangers in the last years than most of us. They have earned the right to decide if they want to be part of the Order, even if they aren't of age yet."

"Hear, hear." Black rose from his chair and leaned with his hands forward on the table. "One wouldn't assume such wisdom in this greasy head of yours, Snivellus. Especially not after you so freehandedly decided to stop Harry's Occlumency lessons. But that fit well into your master's plans, didn't it, Snivellus?"

Imperceptibly, Snape's fingers closed on his wand, ready to counter any attack Black might launch at him, when a large, restraining hand was placed briefly on his shoulder.

"I trust Severus, Sirius, as should you," said Dumbledore as he stepped into the doorway. A moment later, the old man turned towards Snape and met his gaze with piercing blue eyes. "Severus, I'd like to have a word in private. I hear Tom will soon summon his followers again."

Dumbledore clasped his wrinkled hands behind his back and turned towards the library window when Snape had finally finished his report on the meeting with the older Malfoy. "This is not good, Severus, not good at all. We have to double the nightly patrol for the Department of Mysteries, and I would ask you to Apparate Harry to Grimmauld Place when the term ends next week. From there, I will take him to his aunt's house myself."

Snape's lips curled. "You think he will order Lucius to abduct the boy while he is on the train?"

"Unfortunately, I do." Dumbledore moved from the window and began to pace through the library, stroking his beard. "Tom will by now have come to realise that only he and Harry are able to retrieve the prophecy. However, this time he wants to know its full content before he risks revealing himself. Therefore, the only possibility is to have Harry remove it for him from the Hall of Prophecies. Yet, Harry is out of reach for him as long as he remains at Hogwarts or at Privet Drive. However, during that small window while he is on the Hogwarts Express, Harry lacks that sort of strong protection. It's the sole opportunity for Tom to act."

Snape rose from the armchair he had so far occupied and searched the old man's gaze. "If you think that's the Dark Lord's plan, Albus, than Potter's friends shouldn't be on the Hogwarts Express, either. The Dark Lord is well aware of their importance to Potter by now, and Lucius will have to present him something when he returns. If he cannot deliver the boy, why not avoid the Dark Lord's anger and deliver him the perfect bait to lure Potter out of safety?"

He was sure that if Malfoy were presented with a choice, he would never take the Weasley boy, a pure-blood, before the Dark Lord. And for the second time that evening, an image of the girl surrounded by Death Eaters relentlessly filled his mind. Snape shuddered.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore stepped up behind the armchair and placed his age-worn hands on the velvet backrest. "I agree, Severus. When Harry and his friends leave next week, I'll arrange for Remus and Alastor to meet you and our trio at the Apparation point at the side gate. After all, you cannot Disapparate the three of them all by yourself to Grimmauld Place."

Snape nodded, his rigid stance not giving away the strange mix of satisfaction and relief he felt knowing that Dumbledore would go along with his suggestion. Potter would team up with the werewolf anyway, and he had obtained the opportunity make sure the girl came home safely.

"It's settled then," Dumbledore declared cheerfully and walked around the armchair, next to the one Snape had occupied earlier, before he added like an afterthought, "And as for Lucius' advise, I think he is right; you should name for Tom something you supposedly desire, Severus. Becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts, for example, not that the castle wouldn't already recognise you as my rightful representative if it were necessary. You know that, don't you, Severus?"

"Albus –"

"I am serious. It is a perfect opportunity to ensure the students' safety should Tom set his sights on Hogwarts some day," explained Dumbledore enthusiastically. He straightened his blue, sparkling robes and sat down, gesturing for Snape to do the same.

For a moment, the spy hesitated, scowling at the furniture, before he eventually took his seat. It was never a good sign when the old man invited him for a talk like this. Usually, he ended up with his soul raw and his innermost secrets pulled out into the open; right now, he had a very good idea what the older wizard wanted to talk about.

"Now, tell me what happened with Harry. I know you wouldn't cancel his lesson without something that had forced you to do so, Severus."

Snape scowled, his gaze fixing on some point far away. There was no lie, no excuse he could tell, to placate the old man. He had gone against the Headmaster's direct order. He had allowed that Potter's mind remain vulnerable to the Dark Lord. He knew that, yet there had been no other choice. Drawing a deep breath, he turned and met Dumbledore's gaze.

"Those eyes... her eyes," Snape faltered, shaking his head. "Those lessons bring about emotions – they were grinding up my Occlumency shields, Albus. If I resume Potter's training, and would the Dark Lord decide, in all his wisdom, to summon me during one of the boy's lessons, my shields would be far too weak to protect my mind and my true alliance for two seconds."

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand." And for the first time, Snape hoped he truly did, that for once the old man trusted him enough. "Still, I would have wished you had consulted me first, Severus. I will complete Harry's training myself, once he is back in Little Whinging. With the progress you and he made, it should be safe for us all now," the elderly wizard carried on. "As long as Harry and Tom have such a large territorial distance between them, Tom won't be able to take control of Harry's mind. Otherwise he would already have done –"

"Headmaster, headmaster!" Phineas Nigellus' voice called from the portrait frame on the other side of the library.

Dumbledore and Snape turned around immediately and approached the portrait. "What is it, Phineas?" the older wizard asked. "Has something happened?"

"It's Minerva, Headmaster. Several portraits in the Entrance Hall saw her being carried to the Hospital Wing. She was unconscious, Albus!"

Snape shared a quick, understanding glance with Dumbledore before he stormed out of the library.

It was going to be a long night.

Author's note: I apologise for the long, long delay. If RL had allowed it, I would have updated earlier, but it hasn't been possible. But I can assure that there will be regular updates from now on.

I owe a heartfelt thank you to potionsmistress23 who rearranged my commas and so much more.