Severus Snape and the Last Year

Level 3.1: Back From Siberia

He was late. Severus Snape had never been late returning from a holiday before. He wanted to kill Karkaroff, really kill him. The elaborate ruse they had concocted to fake his death had been the cause for this delay. If it had not been for the saving grace of Monday mornings being his planning period he would have seriously considered Apparating back to Siberia and finishing the job properly.

He tried to tell himself there had been no harm done. He had not missed any classes. His lessons plans had been set over a month ago. He would have felt a much greater relief returning to Hogwarts, if it had not been for the owl Dumbledore had sent him with its short and annoyingly vague message.

Don't be surprised if you run into an old friend in the halls.

He was not sure what that meant, but it could not be anything good. All of his old friends were Death Eaters, and the thought of running into any of them in the hall hardly brightened his day.

Not that his day needed brightening. The sun was sufficiently over powering already. Despite rumors to the contrary, Severus did like fair weather, but direct sunlight was something he always shied from. He strode past the courtyard, trying to stay inside the meager shadow of the walkway.

He thought he heard his name called, "Severus!", but he knew the voice and knew it was only a memory. He refused to break stride even when he saw the apparition flying towards him, though his muscles became sluggish of their own accord. It had been a long time since he'd actually seen her. He had beaten the memories down, so they were usually no more than an echo of faint laughter in the corridor. These days it took a few drinks and a deep melancholy before he would see her, and he was angry at the moment, far from melancholy.

Before he could contemplate his damaged psyche further, the weight slammed into him, a real weight. Arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing. At least they felt like arms, solid, soft. It felt like a girl's body pressed against him, looked like a mass of silver hair, but it wasn't possible. Not possible it was her anyway. Maybe he was having some kind of attack. His mind had finally snapped past the point of repair. His arms were frozen above this solid apparition, afraid to touch it, lest it fade away or prove his madness.

The smell of her finally reached his nostrils, and he regained the ability to move, though this was not something of which he had any conscious awareness. His arms dropped and found solid shoulders. He pushed the apparition back to study it's face. He sometimes still saw her face on strangers, but the mirage was quick to fade with a second look. Not this time. Her face beamed at him, unchanging, unchanged. And again he knew it was impossible. It had been twenty years. She would have changed. She could not have the same face from his memories.

"You're Professor Snape! Oh, I could kill Draco! He should have told me! Severus! I'm back! I'm really back!" It was her voice. Her odd accent created by too many years futilely attempting to adopt a French one. Her effervescent smile. Her not quite graceful body language. The same uniform. He had pushed her back. Why? He put his hand on her shoulder again, reassuring himself that she was indeed solid. He wasn't letting her go again, never again. If this was insanity, he was determined to let it swallow him.

If it was real...his mind was not ready to accept that possibility.

Suddenly he was afraid. She seemed to have poured out of the sunlight, and he was afraid the sun would take her back again. His arm stretched protectively around her shoulders. He swept her inside, away from the sun. Safe. Somewhere safe, inside the castle walls. She came with him willingly, matching his pace without question, though he could feel the uncertainty in her shoulders.

"Severus, are you all right?" Her voice. It was her voice.

He stopped his flight, turned to face her again. His hand refused to leave her, but it traveled to hold her face. It had been a sunny day when she had vanished. He had not searched the sun. The other hand joined it, gently testing the shape of the face to see if his fingers could confirm what his eyes were telling him. "Persephone?"

Her cherub face beamed at him. Silver eyes shining. "Yes! S'me." Her hands covered his, small soft fingers on his long knobby ones. His hand tested her springy, silver hair, her smooth, cream neck, the Slytherin crest on her robes. She had vanished somewhere between the common room and the lake, on a Saturday in May, sometime between three and four in the afternoon. He had stayed in the common room waiting for her to return. She had said she would be back soon, and he had said he would wait.

His voice caught, his throat tight and raw. She laughed, her warm, silver laugh. "How?" His hands were trembling. His fingers had tangled themselves deep in her purl hair. He tried to extricate them without pulling, but he could not bear to release her.

"Draco found me." She took his hands in hers and spread his arms to look at him. Severus didn't understand how he could feel so warm and cold at the same time. Draco?

This was cruel. This was cruel beyond measure.

"You have to tell me all about yourself," her voice wrapped around his heart like a vice. "Severus, I want to hear everything."

He was aware now that they were in a hallway, exposed to anyone who might pass down this corridor. "My office," he suggested, feeling the threat of tears for the first time in well over a decade. But Severus Snape did not cry.

He wanted her to be real, but how could she be? Persephone had been missing for twenty-one years. If by some miracle she was still alive, she would have shown some signs of age, some sign of long captivity. Perhaps one of Voldemort's agents had found an old hair and used polyjuice to....but polyjuice didn't work that way. Could they have modified the formula? Or an elaborate set of transfigurations spells, but why make her look so young? It seemed sloppy. Perhaps more psychologically disconcerting...did they hope to confuse him enough to gain some information they thought he possessed? But even that seemed sloppy. The only person he knew that sloppy, cruel, and clever was Bella...and Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. Besides, there was Dumbledore's message...his head hurt with possibilities and problems.

"Severus?" the girl asked as they stopped before his office door. He had no memory of the walk there, but he opened the door and gestured her inside. Whatever this was, it was better if the students did not witness. "Aren't you going to ask me why I haven't aged?"

The door closed behind them, and he rested his arm against it to keep himself upright. Trim silver eyebrows raised. The excitement in her voice had mellowed with his mood. She had always been able to catch his moods. "Why?" he croaked.

She laughed and grabbed his hand again. "Come sit down before you fall over!" She pulled him to the small wrought iron backed bench against the wall, and he let himself be lead. "Oh, poor Severus, I've given you a shock. I didn't think anything could shock you." Her small, soft hand stroked his cheek. "My poor Severus."

He captured her hands with his own and moved his head slightly. She understood and sat down on the bench beside him. He stared down at those small, delicate hands. His own looked so old and overgrown beside them. The creases of his knuckles had grown deep. They did not belong together, but he could not let her go. If she started stroking his face again, he was going to crumble.

Her hands shifted to rest gently on his lower one, but she made no effort to remove them. She gave him the silence he needed to regain some composure. He realized his fingers were resting on her lap, but there were few other options. As it was he could only feel the fabric of her robe with the back of his fingers; the warmth of her hand on his palm was far more distracting. At least she had done him the courtesy of shifting her hips away. This brought her knees closer, but they were lost in the fabric of her school robes.

Her bright smile had faded. Her expression was quieter. That was like before too. She never smiled as much with him as she did other people. He had asked her about it once, afraid his presence depressed her somehow. Oh, no. I just feel like I can be quiet with you. It's nice, peaceful.

Lucius had left school by then. It had been the first time he had seriously thought about asking her...first time he thought she might.

His thumb stroked the back of hers, and he caught her smile softly. No one could copy all this could they? No one could duplicate her so perfectly. Maybe it was possible, but..."How?"

"I was enchanted into a painting," she said. The giddiness had gone from her voice. She spoke calmly now, and it made her sound older, like a woman rather than a girl. It always had. "I don't think it was intended for keeping wizards, just preserve objects from the ravages of time, but it was an effective prison. They kept the painting in an attic. Maybe they had planned to let me out at some point, but I think they forgot about me."

"I didn't forget."

The soft smile stole back over her face, and she looked at him curiously. "Did you look for me?"

"Did I-?" he spoke indignantly, before he remembered she had no way to know. "Of course, I looked for you. I kept looking when everyone else-" He swallowed down the surge of emotion. "They tried to tell me you were dead. You would have to be dead by now, but I-I couldn't accept that."

Her smile grew broader. Her smile, as sweet as the first time he had seen it. He risked raising his hand to stroke her cheek. She continued to smile. Her hands waited patiently for his to return.

"Who was it?"

She looked down, her smile gone as suddenly as it had come. "I can't tell you that."

He tried to speak gently, but there was a harsh edge of fear in his voice. "Persephone, please, they can't hurt you anymore."

"No, they can't," she agreed sadly and tried fixing on a false smile. "So you see it doesn't really matter."

"DOESN'T MATTER!?!" He hadn't meant to roar so loudly, but it had growled out from the depths of his gut. Her hands flinched inside his, trying to pull away for the first time.

Her voice took on a pleading tone. "Severus, please! What would you do to them if I told you?!"

He did not need to answer her with words. He knew his eyes spoke of the death and pain he would like to inflict on the perpetrator. She knew the sort of dark magic he had studied and the depths of his creativity.

She tried to set her jaw firmly but her lip trembled. "Draco said I probably would have been killed if-if I hadn't...if I wasn't in that painting. He told me--"

Snape closed his eyes. Draco again. Lucius had told him his son would be offered the mark soon. He did not need to hear what the boy had to tell her. Shame was already creeping over him. He had dreaded being the one to impart the news of her family's death, but it seemed that grim task had fallen to the young Malfoy.

He spoke more calmly now, despite the rising dread. "I am sorry, Persephone. Deeply sorry about your family. But their tragedy doesn't make your kidnapper a hero. Justice-"

"Justice...is a fancy word for revenge."

Lucius had said that, long ago. She was quoting him. She was protecting her kidnapper, and Severus could not understand why unless...He searched her face hoping for some clue. Draco was too young to be a suspect, but his involvement indicated a Death Eater, one more than others. How many Death Eaters would have risked the Dark Lord's ire by sheltering a Potter?

"Did Lucius-?"

"Please don't ask me. Please, Severus, I gave my word."

The pain that shot through his chest was physical. Lucius had commiserated with him over the loss of Persephone. He had been the only one who understood, who had not told him to give up on the search. Lucius had even offered him leads, and when those had run dry... The pain in his chest tightened over the depth of the betrayal, how deeply the lies must have run, but Severus refused to cry out. He bit his tongue instead. He tried to cling to some hope that he was misreading the evidence. He knew how tightly Persephone held onto a promise. Maybe she would deny any name he offered.

"Bellatrix?"

Persephone's concerned look gave way to annoyance. "That's not fair. You can't just rattle off names to get to it by elimination. You have to let it go. I promised."

His chest eased a bit. "Who did you promise?" She only glared at him in response, and the expression was so out of place on her features, he almost laughed. Almost.

He squeezed her hand gently, trying to reassure her that he was letting the matter drop. "How did Draco find you?"

"He found the painting in an attic," she told him, apparently deciding this question was safe enough to answer. "They'd put a silencing spell on me years ago, but I think it must have faded off at some point. There was just no one to talk to."

As far as Severus knew, Draco had not left the Malfoy Manor all summer, which indicated that particular attic, but he could be wrong. Draco knew how to use floo powder as well as anyone. Severus had been told to stay clear of the manor and only guessed at its connection to the caverns he had entered through a cave deep in the forest. He had also been in Russia for the past two weeks, sorting out that mess with Karkaroff. Yes, there were any number of places Draco could have found her, but the possibility...the probability...

"He said you'd never married...?" Persephone's eyebrows asked the question.

"No, I didn't," Severus answered, distracted by this new thread of conversation. He knew she was asking to distract him, but he suddenly wanted to be married. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her back to his room, his bed, and kiss every inch of her. His throat was dry but for different reasons now. "There was no one."

Her lip twitched as though to smile, but she quickly swallowed it down. "You were focused on your career?"

"Yes." He held himself stiffly, clung to her hands a little more tightly, but refused to move in any other way. She might not want what he wanted after all. He certainly was not going to chase her off by forcing himself on her, not in any capacity. "There are allowances for married faculty, but it's discouraged."

"Oh," she said. Was that disappointment in her eyes? Was he imagining it? "Why?"

"The job requires occupation of the apartments in the Hogwarts castle, to provide supervision at all times, to limit the number of times the gates must be opened. It's awkward for the students, not to mention the spouse, and concerning to the parents to have an adult in residence who does not have an established position at the school."

"Oh....what would you do if you wanted to marry someone?"

"Retire, if Dumbledore would let me."

"Why would he stop you?"

"It's complicated." Severus glanced down at his own arm, at the Dark Mark concealed by his sleeve, at his hands and their deep creases. They did not belong with her delicate, smooth ones. He must look so old to her now. She would hate the tattoo. She would hate the Death Eaters. "Did Draco bring you to Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Persephone answered. "He tried to take me to Harry first, but we missed him. So he brought me here instead. Dumbledore said I could go back to school again. I might as well." She looked up at him with sudden delight. Her mouth fell open and words tumbled out as if she had discovered the greatest joke in history. "Severus! You're going to be my teacher!! Isn't that hysterical?! What do you teach?"

"Potions," he murmured, trying to recover from the gut punch some invisible hand had delivered. Her teacher? That was a joke. Albus Dumbledore was an absolute bastard at times. Severus loved the man, but he was an absolute bastard.

Persephone had stood in her excitement at the concept and seemed to almost be dancing on her toes. "Of course, you were always brilliant at potions! I bet you're an excellent teacher! Twenty times better than Slughorn! Oh, if he's gone, who's the head of Slytherin House now?"

"I am," he said with a sardonic smile.

"Oh, you really have been focusing on your career. Severus, that's amazing." She was laughing with every word. "This is fantastic! I'll get to see you all the time! I thought I was going to be all alone, but...." She bit her lip and stopped bouncing. She was still holding his hands, one in each now, and swung them in a playful way. "You have no idea how happy I am you're here."

Wonderful man, Dumbledore, brilliant really, when things were put that way. Severus found her smile infectious. What had made him so impatient? He had waited over twenty years with no sign of hope. What was two more with her under his protection? Two years of seeing her everyday. Even if she didn't want to marry him, he had two years with her. He had her back.

He did kiss her hand then, though he kept it brief and gentlemanly. She smiled softly and made no indication it was inappropriate. "You'll have to call me, Professor Snape."

She snickered. "All right, Professor." He had never enjoyed the title more. "Professor Snape. Can I come to your office anytime?"

"Of course."

"Are you going to take care of me?"

"As your head of house."

"So I can come to you with any problem?"

"Any problem."

"And if I'm naughty....?"

"You're never naughty," he said, and despite her attempt at a mischievous expression, they both knew that was true. She had never been a rule breaker. He had been fairly by the book as well except when it came to her brother, which unfortunately it had and often. "Though oddly you seemed to get me in trouble a lot."

"James did that. You can't blame me for it."

"As you wish."

"I wanted to go the dance with you, Severus. I really did." Her apology sounded so genuine, as if she really felt it was her fault for breaking their engagement.

"It's all right," he said. It was not the right time to make a profession of adoration. "How long have you been out of that painting?"

"About a week, I think. Maybe less."

He gave her hands another gentle squeeze. It was not the right time, but he had two years.

****************

"Don't be surprised if you run into an old friend in the halls?"

Dumbledore had the good grace to look sheepish behind his half-moon spectacles. "I'm sorry, Severus. I couldn't risk sending anything more specific in an owl. Too easily intercepted. I had hoped you would stop by my office first on your return. Besides, it must not have been a bad sort of surprise, you're smiling."

Severus Snape was smiling, and he was hungry. They had skipped lunch. Persephone had not left his office until he realized his second years would soon be arriving, and run off to Charms class. He had managed to make it through his second years and a double helping of fifth years, though he had not been nearly as intimidating as he liked. She had returned to his office to squeeze in a quick hug and two more hours of exclamations and left again for dinner. He had spent ten minutes sitting behind his desk, trying to beat the smile down, but it wouldn't go away. At length, he gave up and went to dinner anyway. "Of course, I'm smiling. She's alive."

Dumbledore smiled as well. The whole of his long white beard twitched with it. "I thought you might be a little disappointed she hadn't aged, but maybe it's better this way. Twenty years is a lot to..."

That helped dim Severus's smile a bit. "She's alive," he repeated. "I'm not going to be picky about it." He attacked his glazed pork chop with a knife.

"Wise man," Dumbledore said, with a sigh of relief.

Snape looked down from the high table to find Persephone. She was surrounded by such a crowd that it was difficult to make her out. "You won't keep her a secret very long."

The Headmaster made a non-committal noise. "I'm sure the students will write home and some of their parents will remember her. But they don't have all the clues we do. I've gotten some of the Order members to spread the rumor that our current Persephone is the name sake of the last one. Her parents deliberately copied the Silver Child charm and were so delighted by their success that they named her after the missing Potter girl....who would of course be in her late thirties now."

"Clever," Severus admitted. It might not convince everyone, but it was a more plausible explanation than the painting. "She told me she had told Ms. Parkinson that she was from Canada."

Dumbledore winced. "I should have worked with her more deliberately on a plausible back story, but that will have to do. Perhaps we can find some other way to support the illusion. Too much to do, too quickly. Do you know I've had to take up teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts myself this year? It's become that difficult to find a teacher."

"I would have done it," Severus said quietly, trying not to betray his annoyance.

"You think it would be that much easier for me to find a decent Potions Master?"

"You could have pulled Slughorn out of retirement."

Dumbledore grimaced. "I tried that last year and see what it got us?"

"If you'd let me try..."

"Severus, no." Dumbledore took a bite of his dinner, and they were silent while he chewed. He spoke again in an even lower voice. "I know you think you can break the curse, but that's not my only concern." He left his other concern unvoiced, though he had said it before over the years. He viewed Severus's fascination with the Dark Arts as an addiction, and he would no sooner pass a cocktail to a recovering alcoholic. They had had a row over it, when Severus covered for Lupin. It was only one day! Do you think me so sapheaded I'd fall back on old habits over a third year lesson?

Severus, you assigned them an essay on werewolves. I think that rather unkind given the circumstances.

Someone had to give them a warning.

"I'm not some desperate, weak-willed teenager anymore," he snapped.

"No," Dumbledore agreed. "You're not. Remember that."

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated that he understood the rebuke, a double rebuke. His eyes found Persephone again. She smiled up at him, before another student distracted her. There was another group of students crowded around Draco Malfoy, though he did not seem to be enjoying the attention as much. Severus remembered the first time he had seen Draco, too, a tiny pale infant in Narcissa's arms. It had not been an easy birth for her. Lucius had lifted the child for his inspection, smirking with pride and relief. Severus had been afraid to hold him, but he had let the tiny hand curl around his finger.

"Did Draco take the mark?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore admitted.

"You didn't check?"

"I thought the boy had had enough for one day," Dumbledore replied, his voice low. "Besides I know the mark does not necessarily mean devotion to Lord Voldemort. You taught me that." Severus scowled, and Dumbledore continued. "You should have seen them when they arrived, dressed as Muggles, nervous as mokes, and looking rather worse for the wear."

"Muggles?"

"Young Malfoy in blue jeans and a t-shirt if you'd believe it. His face was scratched rather badly, and Poppy said her legs were just as scraped. They flew into the school yard on a broom. I had received letters from the Ministry, apparently the trace on Persephone is still active. Which means as far as the magic measures are concerned, she's still sixteen. I also received a letter from Narcissa Malfoy looking for her son. They arrived so closely, I found it unlikely they were unrelated. I thought it improbable but not impossible they would return to Hogwarts. Minerva and I were keeping watch for them, and I dropped the wards long enough for the broom to pass."

"Surely Poppy could have-"

"Perhaps, but it seemed unwise to make him feel cornered. And I'd rather Poppy not be the one to make such a discovery. Besides I had her busy confirming the identity of Miss P."

"You should have given her a false name."

Dumbledore waved aside this objection and picked up his goblet. "Persephone is a terrible actor, and it would be too easy for the teachers to make a slip. Also I'm curious to see if rumors of her appearance will draw a reaction from certain parties."

Severus's scowl deepened. He did not like her being used that way, but again he understood and hated it. If she would not tell them the name of her kidnapper, Dumbledore did need some way to investigate.

"How did Potter react?"

"That remains to be seen."

"You didn't tell him?"

"Persephone asked for a chance to speak to him alone. I think it's important she tell him but hardly urgent."

"It might be better if she didn't." His mind had prepared tactical reasons for this, but Severus knew it was selfish. He wanted to keep her to himself.

"I think Harry would like to know. Besides, she and Harry will need to work out the issues about the Potters' inheritance."

"How so?"

"Well...after thirteen years, she was declared legally dead, which means everything went to Harry. We got some extra socks for her, but I'm sure there'll be other expenses. Books..."

"I'll get them," Severus said quickly. Albus gave him a sideways glance, and Severus continued in a more measured tone. "I think it's a bit much to expect Mr. Potter to start providing for family members he never knew he had, particularly given all the other pressures on him at present. We should give them a little time to get acquainted without added complications."

"Very thoughtful of you, Severus," the headmaster said dryly.

Severus shrugged. He had twenty years of missed birthdays and Christmases to make up.

"As you like," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure you're only thinking of Harry."

Severus resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He glanced briefly at Potter who was nestled obliviously between Weasley and Granger. Draco's crowd was dispersing which seemed to grow Persephone's cloud of admirers. Despite the crowd, she caught his eye again and threw him a smile.

****************

He dreamed that night about the first time he had seen her, in the library, through the book stacks. The butterflies flew off the book page, grew, and multiplied. They filled the halls, spilled into his office, and circled him. The whirlwind of wings kissed his robes and tugged at his hair. Blue light spilled over him and the creases in his hands smoothed.

****************

He awoke to his dark bed sheets and deep creases in his fingers. Severus sighed, dressed, and headed up to the Great Hall. He found Persephone having breakfast with the ghosts and found he preferred this crowd to the one from the previous evening. She at least was not a dream. He managed to send off an owl order for her school books and two sets of black robes.

He was too distracted to muster up the normal dramatics he liked giving first years on their first day, and instead set in straight to the lesson. It was a solid day of classes. He caught a glimpse of Persephone at lunch, but he had to wait until the fifth years had cleared out of the potions lab before he could retreat to his office. She was waiting for him beside the door. He checked the hall to make sure it was clear before beckoning her in.

"How are your classes?" he asked as he closed the door.

"I only had Transfiguration today," Persephone said as she took her seat from yesterday on the bench. "So I did a little homework and took a walk. I've decided I'm going to learn everyone's name this year. I'm trying to figure out how many parents I know." She chuckled. He had remained standing, hands formally clasped behind his back, so she patted the bench beside her. "It's so weird. Everything's the same, but everyone's different. Professor McGonagall looks so much older, and Flitwick's gone from grey to white..."

Severus paused in his slow walk towards the bench. "I'm surprised you recognized me," he said trying to make light of his own aging.

"You're not that different," Persephone said and patted the bench again. "Besides I spent a lot of time trying to imagine you." He sat down beside her, and her left hand quickly found his right. The smile was creeping back already. "You kept me sane, you know. Imagining you....how we would be."

"Hope reality isn't too disappointing," he said dryly, as he laid his left hand over their intertwined fingers.

"I was hoping to be rescued in time for the dance," she admitted. His fingers tensed with guilt, but her delicate hand came to stroke reassurance. "It's not your fault. At least, I'm alive. Did you go to the dance? Could you tell me about it?"

Severus shook his head. "There was no point."

"You could have asked someone else," she suggested.

"It took me two years to work up the courage to ask you. I didn't have the luxury of that much time."

"Two years?" she repeated, and he realized he had said too much.

There was no help for it now. "I lacked a degree of social grace," he said, hoping she would let that non-answer pass.

A wane smile tugged at her lips. "Sometimes I imagined what our kids would look like," she said. "I would have these long elaborate fantasies about all the things that could have happened. Going to the dance, leaving school, getting a house....getting married. I had these little dream babies, and I guess I could have really been lost in my head for years, but then...I'd sort of wake up and realize they weren't real. My babies were gone."

His elation at getting some confirmation of mutual attraction was buried under this revelation of her sadness. He had wondered what her captivity had been like but was unsure how to approach the subject. He took his turn to comfort her hand. "This is real."

She smiled sad gratitude. The shimmer of unshed tears collected, but she blinked them away. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up again."

He held her hands more firmly. "You're not allowed. I've woken up too many mornings after a dream where I found you. I doubt my daydreams were as elaborate, but I did think about how things would be if you had never been taken. It was never easy coming out of them."

Her sad smile stretched tight. "What if we're both mad?"

He had missed this most. These moments of perfect, quiet empathy between them that no one else seemed capable of comprehending. She had been his friend first. His best friend, long before she had been his fantasy. "You could argue the entirety of life is an exercise in madness."

She laughed at that, an easy laugh. "Just don't go anywhere, ok?"

****************

On Wednesday morning Professors Sinistra and Trelawny were giggling over a magazine when Severus arrived at breakfast. Persephone was standing at the Gryffindor table, presumably telling Harry that she needed to have a more private chat. Minerva waved him over to sit beside her. Something about the woman still reduced him to student, even though they had been colleagues for longer. He did his best not to let her see that but suspected some part of her still saw him as a student as well.

This morning she was smiling at him with the similar sort of repressed joy he himself had been feeling. Her students were her children. To get one of them back from the dead was a victory for her too. She gave his arm a quick pat as he took the chair beside hers. He had thought at first she wanted to speak to him, but she merely flicked her eyes to Persephone who was walking back to the Slytherin table and gave him a sly smile. He returned her smile with a smug one of his own. There was no need for words between them. They had their girl back.

Severus did his best not to watch her. He knew how quickly that would be misinterpreted. Hogwarts was legendary for its gossip.

He could risk the occasional glance at the Slytherin table. Persephone was seated with the seventh years now, three Death Eater children. He was not thrilled by that. Minerva finished her breakfast and slipped out. He attacked his eggs, trying to assure himself that Gregory and Vincent were not clever enough to be a real danger and Pansy Parkinson far too vapid. Clever but vapid.

He heard the sound of breaking glass, but a quick glance told him it had not occurred at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy soon took the seat across from Persephone, and he found this more concerning. He was fond of Draco, but the boy looked too much like Lucius. Malfoy passed his silver girl a letter that Severus could see caused her some concern. Snape realized he was staring and forced himself to look away until the mail came. He had received the books and robes he ordered yesterday and attached a note before sending them along with a school owl this morning.

He was rewarded with a bright smile and a laugh as Persephone opened his gifts, though he noticed that Malfoy had taken his note. It annoyed him, but at least he had been wise enough to use their old school habit of signing initials. Pansy and Daphne had the note now. Severus watched to see if the Slytherin girls made the connection, but no one looked his way. Persephone took her prizes away. The two seventh year girls followed her, and Severus hoped she would rub off on them.

The morning passed easily enough. He took tea in his office instead of going to lunch. He needed a clear head to face his seventh year class.

He watched them shuffle in after the bell. Part of him always dreaded this set of students. They drudged up too many potent memories. But the memories seemed more pleasant today. These ghosts from his past had dissolved into teenagers, full of potential rather than condemnation.

He had too much energy to sit still, so he paced, knowing it would help draw the students' attention. "Let's see if you're taking your lessons seriously this year."

"Mr. Longbottom?" he had never been close to Alice, but he had respected her. She had been an extremely competent woman, and only recently had her son shown any glimmer of her potential. "What do you get when you add dragons blood to a mixture of powdered Graphorn horn and amber gris?"

He had been not unpleasantly shocked when the boy pulled an 'O' on his O.W.L, but this seemed to have been a freak incident, which unfortunately left him to wonder if cheating had been involved. Though successfully cheating on an O.W.L. potions exam required a level of cleverness that should secure someone a spot in his Advanced class. "I don't know, sir."

Severus bit back a sigh. "How unsurprising. Potter, same question."

"A Patafacere Potion. It's used to detect several otherwise untraceable poisons."

Severus stopped pacing and turned his black eyes on Harry. It had unsettled him the first time he had seen Harry in his classroom, such a perfect copy of James with Lily's eyes, and that Granger girl right beside him, bushy hair, round cheeks and so eager. He did not know now why she had reminded him so strongly of Persephone. The physical resemblance had been faint at best. Perhaps it had been the presence of young Malfoy eyeing her with a curious smirk, so much like Lucius.

He had snapped at her more than was fair. He was aware of that, but he had needed to distance himself from the temptation. He had been alone too long and knew it would be bad for both of them to form any attachment to this clever, brilliantly clever, and eager to please girl-child. Thankfully her face had thinned and the resemblance had faded with maturity. Her bossiness had begun to genuinely annoy him, but even that seemed unfair of him now.

His treatment of Harry had been unfair too. There had been moments when he had realized it, but Potter had the bad habit of finding some new way to torment him just as he was willing to make amends. Still looking at the boy's face now, he saw the faint resemblance to Persephone. She would not like how he treated her nephew. And if he had his way, his nephew too. That was a strange thought. All things considered, it was best to extend an olive branch, and Harry had given him an opportunity. "It seems Mr. Potter has actually read his text this year. Five points for Gryffindor."

The clear surprise on Harry's face was amusing to see. "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry stammered. It was clear to Severus that Persephone had not yet revealed her secret to him, and he took a perverse pleasure in being the only one to know.

Well, not quite the only one. Draco Malfoy was studying him intently. If Persephone's return had been an attempt to unhinge him, Draco would need to report back. Severus had hoped Draco would stay after class to clear up the matter, but the boy slipped away with the other students. Severus let him.

****************

Dumbledore was wrong about the nature of his addiction. The Dark Arts had always fascinated him, but he could live without them, suffered no withdrawal from their absence. No, his addiction was waiting for him outside his office, with a coy smile on her pink lips. Like an addict, he made another guilty check of the hall before hiding his addiction inside the privacy of his office.

She threw her arms around him again, another chaste hug, this time in gratitude for her new books and robes. It was like taking a hit of some exotic potion. He only showed his euphoria with a smile, but the smile seemed to extend through the core of his being.

"You're the best best-friend ever," she chirped and lead him to their bench. He had used it in the past for the rare overflow when he had to discipline multiple students at once, but now it was a shrine, the most sacred place in the world.

Her fingers wove with his, and she beamed almost literally. Her perfect skin glowed.

She was not beautiful in the traditional sense. He knew that and was glad of it. Pleasant, sweet, charming were the labels most often applied. He had heard a few boys call her cute, but never with the sort of lust or longing girls like Narcissa had inspired. He felt her beauty was a secret only he had discovered, hidden behind her unusual coloring and square features. Lucius had loved her too, but he had never wanted her, not the way Severus had. The way he did.

"I'm already behind on my reading, but I can catch up now," she continued, oblivious to his longing. "It was really sweet of you. I'll pay you back somehow."

"This is payment enough," he said, lifting their intertwined fingers a few inches before letting them drop again. "I just want to see you happy."

A pretty pink graced her cheeks, while her eyes examined his office. It was lined with books as well. Her smile was slipping already, but he knew this was a sign of peace rather than unhappiness. Her smiles were like sunshine; her more somber expressions allowed him to approach.

"I looked for you." He had told her this already, but he wanted her to know how much he had looked for her. "When they couldn't find you, I didn't go home that summer. I stayed in Hogsmeade. I interviewed everyone. When I came up dry, I tried Knockturn Alley. You weren't the only one who disappeared. There were whispers, and I followed every one. But I...I couldn't find you. Lucius insisted I go back for my last year at Hogwarts. Said he'd send word if anything..."

Persephone placed her freehand over his, again bringing her knees in so they touched his. Silver irises watched him with rapt attention.

"There was no one left. I threw myself into my studies and kept an eye on the news. After seventh year ended, I searched the forest."

"Severus-"

"I didn't know where else to look. Best I could work out, you had been on the grounds when you went missing. They searched the forest first, but no one searched it like I did. Hagrid rescued me, pulled me out at one point, but I went back. I had to see--" The tremble in his voice betrayed him.

"Severus." She lifted a hand to touch his cheek in a silent thank you.

The confession spilled from him, unbidden, but he did nothing to stop it. He wanted to tell her, even though he dreaded her reaction. "Persephone, I did things I'm not proud of. I joined people. I joined a group. I didn't know where else to look, and Lucius--" his voice caught.

She waited. Her thumb lightly caressed his cheekbone. He wanted to savor the touch, but he needed to get this over with.

"He brought me to Lord Voldemort. He assured me that they hadn't taken you, that the Death Eaters could help me look. I believed him--I wanted to believe him. I was desperate. I took the mark. I took his mark. I just wanted to find you. I just--I forgot about Harry. I forgot you told me--"

"Shh, Severus, it's all right," she said. Her hand traveled up to stroke his hair. She had been the only person to ever say she liked his hair. "I know you did it for me. It's okay. I understand."

Persephone's hands dropped away from his face and slid down his left arm. "I want to see it," she said staring down at his forearm.

Severus swallowed. He did not want to show her that. He did not like to show anyone. It was the ugliest part of him, and he preferred to keep it hidden. But he could not refuse her. She had the right to see, to know everything that he had become. Grim faced, he presented his forearm, pulled back the sleeve of his robe, and unfastened the buttons at his wrist. Persephone took his hand in hers and together they pulled back his shirt sleeve. She held his fingers with hers, so he could not pull away. With the other hand, her face also grim, her fingers traced the mark.

Severus closed his eyes, forcing himself to endure and not pull away. It was torture. The most delicious, fantastic torture. Her touch choked out all thought, but the feelings and memories attached to her and the mark threatened to overwhelm him. She ended by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "It's my fault."

He pulled his sleeve back into place. "It's not your fault." The sadness in her eyes was heavy, and he hated the fact he had put it there.

She hugged his forearm, resting her cheek on his hand as though that part of him needed extra consolation.

They were quiet for a long time afterwards.