Hobson's Choice

Hobson's Choice: Part 3

He reappeared in the middle of a long and narrow room that was illuminated only by a single flickering candle floating overhead. The dancing light cast dark and sharp shadows on the clusters of tables and their upturned chairs, lending a chill to the otherwise humid air. A lone figure sat by the grimy counter in front of rows of bottles. He was hunched over a mug of firewhisky, his old, gnarled hands cradling the mug protectively. At the pop of Snape's apparition, he did not start, nor turn around to face the newcomer. The only inclination he gave of acknowledging Snape was a low rasp, 'And so the man of the hour arrives. No more games, Snape, and tell me everything.'

'Good to see you again, Aberforth.' Snape sardonically drawled back in reply. He crossed over to the counter, carelessly levitating a turned up chair off the bar top. Twirling it around, he plunked himself down in it, leaned back and threw his long, spindly legs on the bar top counter. Folding his arms, he regarded Aberforth languidly.

The old man still did not look up. Snape noted with a fresh stab of pain that, save his rather more roguish appearance, how much Aberforth resembled Albus. Like Albus, he sported a long white beard that complemented his crinkly face. The customary impish smile on his face was strikingly absent though, as was the twinkle in his eyes.

Still not glancing at Snape, Aberforth pulled out his wand and conjured up another glass of firewhisky and floated it over to Snape. Ignoring the stains on the glass, Snape accepted it without comment and gulped its contents at one go, and set the glass back down onto the countertop, his sinewy fingers impatiently drumming on it.

'Why did you kill Albus?' Aberforth finally looked up at Snape. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry, and his voice shaky with suppressed grief.

Snape shrugged. 'You knew he was dying, right? That standoff with Voldemort had weakened him terribly, and it's only a matter of time before that old codger succumbs to mortality anyway.'

'Yes, but did you have to kill Albus?' Aberforth repeated, this time more heatedly.

'Would you rather anyone else killed him?' Snape shot back unconcernedly, his thin mouth twisting into a mocking smile. He pushed his empty mug towards Aberforth.

Aberforth glowered at him. 'No,' he admitted. With short jerks of his wand, he refilled Snape's mug.

'Well, there you go. I killed him so the others wouldn't have to.' Lifting the mug in thanks, Snape tipped down the contents and drained it.

'Why are you here? Why have you come -' Snape raised one hand, waving away Aberforth's rapid-fire questions.

'Now now,' he said placidly. 'If you calm down a little, Aberforth, and use that alcohol-addled brain of yours, you will know why I am here.'

Aberforth barked with bitter laughter. 'Yes, I know - you want me to help you get back into the good graces of the Order. I am the only one who can help you convince them.'

Snape smirked, 'Right in one.' He leaned back, folded his arms and looked questioningly at Aberforth. 'So?'

There was a brief silence, then, 'I don't trust you Snape!'

'Nobody does now,' was Snape's lazy rejoinder. 'But that doesn't mean you can't and won't help me.'

Aberforth stared at him for a long, hard moment. Then he said tiredly, 'Just tell me why, Snape, why you had to make that unbreakable vow.'

For the first time that night, Snape's nonchalant exterior crumbled slightly. He looked away. 'I had no choice. Narcissa and Bellatrix were testing my loyalty. Voldemort had probably put them to it. Regardless of what he tells me, and regardless of what I told Bellatrix, I don't think he fully trusts me. Besides -'Here, he faltered, and squeezed his eyes shut. He raised a hand and rubbed at his temple.

'Besides what?' Aberforth repeated. He glared at Snape.

Snape withdrew his hand and faced Aberforth. His dark eyes were unreadable as he frostily replied, 'You remember as well as I do that second prophecy Sybil made. What other choice did I have?'

'Tell me, Severus,' Aberforth began carefully, 'Tell me, why did you come back to Dumbledore? I think I know, but if I am to help you, I must hear it directly from you.'

The sudden change of his name did not escape Snape. He gave a long-suffering sigh and held out his empty glass again.