The Secret Life

The Secret Life

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability--"

"Incarc--" Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

"Fight back!" Harry screamed at him. "Fight back, you cowardly--"

"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?"

"Stupe--"

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!"

****

A closed mind. The barriers were so strong, so seasoned, that he barely had to tend to them anymore. They had become such habit--so much a part of his being--that there were times he forgot why they were there, and what they hid--his most sacred memories. His secret life.

In rare moments of distraction, or exhaustion, he would catch glimpses of the memories slipping through small cracks in the barrier. He would see the shimmer of blond hair being tossed in the sunlight; or the glint of pale blue eyes looking up at him. The wizened, grey-bearded face smiling at him from behind half-moon glasses. He would catch these escaping memories, and hastily stuff them away behind the barriers. Then he would meticulously patch the cracks from which they had escaped.

He could not permit himself to dwell on those memories. He could not risk that they would be seen. He could never let his Master know him for who he really was.

Occlumency. The secret life. It was all that he had left. It was all that he would ever have.

He only let his barriers down a few times each year. He would wait for a long, dark night. A night of solitude. A night of safety. And once he had found such a night, he would reach for the carefully crafted barriers within his mind, and pull them gently apart. He would lie back, and let the memories of his secret life flow over him like a slow-moving stream. He would watch them as they swirled and eddied in his mind. He would remember....

A small, pale boy, with stringy black hair, tattered old trousers and a crumpled black shirt sat alone in the train compartment. He had arrived early--one of the very first students to board. Anything to escape his father for a few minutes more.

Before long he began to hear other students boarding the train. He saw them, in groups of two, and of three, and of four, walking past the door to his compartment, staring derisively at him.

The train must be filling up by now--but still he sat alone.

At last, another student stopped outside his compartment, instead of walking past. She was alone. Pale, like him, but blond, long blond hair, falling down her back, almost to her waist. She looked at him with light blue eyes, as clear as the summer sky.

"May I sit here?" she asked. How could he refuse a face like that? He was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

The hour he was sorted into Slytherin house was one of the happiest hours of his young life. It was the house of the greatest wizards throughout history. The house of wealth, and power: the house of the pure-bloods. And, it was the house that she had been sorted into just moments earlier. But how could there have ever been any doubt where she belonged--a daughter of the House of Black, one of the most venerable and noble families in all England? Not like him. Not like the half-blood. But still, the pure blood from his mother must have run strong, for he was Slytherin too.

Before the year was out, she had become his closest and truest friend. When older children teased or taunted the scrawny little boy, it was she who defended him. And when he was lonely, it was she who kept him company.

One day, as they sat together in the Slytherin common room, she looked up from her parchment with those light blue eyes, and whispered to him, "Do you see that boy? The one by the fire?"

He looked over his shoulder to see a tall, handsome seventh-year boy with hair almost as blond as hers. "Malfoy?" he asked.

She nodded, and then whispered, "My parents have hopes for him. They have already opened negotiations with his family."

"Negotiations for what?" he asked, puzzled.

"For marriage, silly," she replied.

"Marriage to whom?"

"To me of course."

++++

"I'm worried about you, Severus," said Dumbledore.

The young man looked at the old wizard in astonishment. "I don't understand, Headmaster. I am receiving top marks in all of my classes. I have not received a detention, or even a reprimand, from any of the Professors in more than a year. What have I done wrong?" he asked.

Dumbledore sighed, and shook his head. "You've done nothing wrong, Severus. Not yet."

"Then why ...?" Severus was deeply confused.

"It is your fixation on the Dark Arts, Severus," answered Dumbledore.

"In times like these we must be prepared to defend ourselves, Headmaster ..." stammered Severus.

"In times like these, such an obsession could attract the wrong kind of attention, Severus," said Dumbledore sternly. Then, more kindly, he added, "Professor Slughorn is not the only person in this school who has noticed your talent, Severus. I, too, believe that you are one of the most promising students we have seen in many years. I would hate to see that promise, that talent, turned to Dark uses."

Severus sat silently for a few moments, his thoughts spinning wildly in his head, before answering, "You suspect me of supporting the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not believe you are one of his followers, Severus. But I do believe that your proclivity for Dark Magic could easily lead you down a path of temptation: a path that would end with the branding of a Dark Mark into your flesh. I am truly worried about you, Severus. I would not wish that end for you."

Severus sat trembling in his chair. He couldn't speak. His thoughts were flying like lightening bolts through his brain.

"Your studies of the Dark Arts will not help you gain what you desire, Severus. Your father will always be a Muggle. Nothing you can do will change that," said the old man kindly.

"How did you ...?"

"I know about the unhappiness of your life at home. I know how you blame that unhappiness on Muggles, and how you despise your own Muggle heritage. The Dark Arts will not erase that unhappiness. They will not help you gain the kind of acceptance and respect among the pure-blooded families that you lacked in your own childhood home. And, most importantly, your knowledge of the Dark Arts will not change her parents' minds," said Dumbledore.

Severus could hardly breathe. "Legilimency," he hissed. "That's how you know these things. That's the only way you could know."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I do not usually resort to using that particular skill on my students. But as I said, Severus--I am worried about you."

++++

Contrasting memories of his school years bubbled swiftly to the surface of his mind, vying for his attention. One moment he would see Dumbledore's face the way it had looked during their first meeting in his office, so long ago. And then, he would once again overhear an older student asking her why she hung around the oily little rat. She had answered simply, "Because he is my friend."

Happier memories would rise to the surface--like the memories of their many walks; side by side, around the school grounds--long, sunlit walks day after day, week after week, and year after year. She had been his constant fountain of sympathy and strength. Then he watched in frustration the memories of the times when, all too often, she was called upon to comfort him after yet another day of torment at the hands of Potter and his gang.

Then another memory--a stronger memory, swirled its way to the surface....

She grabbed him by the arm, and forced him to look her in the eye. "What was that spell you used on Potter?" she asked. "I've never seen anything like it before--it was almost as if you had slashed him with a blade!"

"That was exactly how I intended it," he growled. "It worked perfectly--just as I had envisioned."

She caught her breath. "It was one of your inventions?" she asked in a whisper.

He nodded with a smug grin. "Once Potter and his gang appropriated Levicorpus for themselves, I felt it was time to create something more potent--something they wouldn't dare turn against me."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're starting to frighten me, Severus. The things you can do. It's like all you care about anymore is proving that you have more power than anyone else in our year."

He shook his head quickly. "No, Cissy," he employed the pet name that they used only in their most private moments. "It's not like that. Not really. I do care about power--I won't deny it. Especially if it's power over posturing bullies like Potter and Black. But I don't just care about power for power's sake, Cissy. And power is certainly not all I want. It's not the only reason I work as hard as I do."

"Then what are the other reasons?" she asked.

"Respect," he answered decisively. "You remember how the pure-bloods in our house used to tease and torment me because of my Muggle father? But they've stopped, haven't they? Do you know why?" She didn't answer, so he continued. "Respect, they stopped because they respect my talent--my power--my skill. They see now that I'm better than them--that I'm the best. They know that someday, I'll be someone special. I'll be someone to be reckoned with. And they know that they haven't the talent to do anything but mold away in their decaying ancestral homes, clinging desperately to the last of the family gold, while I rise far above their highest dreams. They see that someday being my friend might earn them special favors. So they respect me. They look up to me. You have no idea what that means to someone from a family like mine."

"I still don't see how tampering with Dark Magic will win you respect. I don't think the boys in our house stopped teasing you because they respect you. I think they stopped because they're afraid of you," she said.

Her words stung a little, but he ignored the pain. "Fear is respect," he stated flatly.

She didn't answer him. He thought she looked a little sad.

++++

"I was offered the apprenticeship with Pervis, Headmaster!" Severus announced excitedly.

"Excellent, Severus! Excellent," replied Dumbledore. "Donovan Pervis is the finest and most talented Apothecary in all of England. There could be no better place to start an illustrious career than at his side."

"I owe it all to you, Headmaster," said Severus humbly. "I would never have gotten the position without the recommendation you wrote for me. Thank you."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "My letter was only the icing on the cake, my dear boy," he said. "Your qualifications for the position were phenomenal. You would certainly have obtained it even without my recommendation."

Severus shook his head. "I'm not so sure about that, Headmaster."

"Do not doubt yourself, Severus. Your worth is far greater than you ever allow yourself to believe," said Dumbledore. "So when do you start? This July?"

Severus shook his head. "Not until the beginning of August, Sir."

Dumbledore looked quietly at the boy for a moment, before speaking. "First, you are going to try again?" he asked softly.

"I have to. I must."

++++

His approach to their relationship was the same as his approach to potion making--slow, and deliberate, with extreme attention to detail. He waited to kiss her for the first time until close to the end of their sixth year. He led her out onto the grounds, to their secret place behind the greenhouses. He kissed her softly and tenderly at first. Then harder, with growing passion. When they finally parted, they were both trembling with the strength of the new feelings surging through their bodies.

But she looked sad. "What's wrong?" he asked her softly, brushing her long hair back from her pale face.

"I want this, Severus. I really do. But it can't be. We can't be together," her voice shook as she spoke.

"Why not?" he asked, though he already knew what she would answer.

"Because my betrothal will be formalized in less than two months. I am not free."

"You are free for nearly two months. That gives us nearly two months to change your parents' minds," he said with a smile.

She was breathing fast, with fear and excitement flashing across her face. "You're serious, aren't you?" she whispered.

"I am always serious. You should know that by now," he replied, running his fingers along her smooth cheek. "I love you, Narcissa. I have loved you from first moment I saw you. I will always love you, and I will not give you up without a fight."

She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "What do we need to do, Severus?"

"Let me visit your parents. Let me show them what I have accomplished. When they see my talent--my inventions--they will have to be impressed. They will see how much more promise I have than that mediocre poseur, Malfoy." He sneered at his rival's name.

"But they will want to know about your family. What will we tell them?"

"We will tell them that I am a Prince--a noble house if ever there was one."

"But your father--"

"If they ask too many questions, we will tell them that my father is a muggle-born wizard. But the key is to emphasize my heritage as a Prince. I am half a Prince--the Half-Blood Prince." He laughed at his conceit. "But my talent will make up for any deficiencies in my blood. It will have too."

She clung more tightly to him, but did not answer.

The happiness of that moment flowed away from him. In its place rose the memories of her sneering parents. Of their condescension. Their disdain. He winced as the pain flowed through him again....

That August she signed the betrothal contract binding her to Lucius Malfoy. He had failed. He had lost her. His talent had not been enough.

For the first month of their seventh year at Hogwarts, he avoided her. He couldn't bear to see her face--the reminder of all he had lost. The reminder of what he had not been strong enough to hold onto. So he withdrew into himself, and re-immersed himself in his studies of the Dark Arts. Only their mysterious allure was enough to help him ignore, for a least a few minutes at a time, the dull ache in his chest.

One night in early October he was alone in an abandoned classroom pouring over a crumbling spell book, when she found him. She opened the door, and stood still, looking at him for a full minute before she stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.

For several minutes, they didn't speak. They only stared silently into each other's eyes. It was the first time they had been alone together since the betrothal. She walked to him, and knelt on the floor before him, taking his hands in hers, staring up at him with those light blue eyes that still filled all of his dreams.

"I miss you, Severus," she said simply.

"It doesn't matter how we feel," he said with a dead voice. "As you once said yourself, you are not free."

"I don't love him, Severus. I don't know if I ever will," her voice was full of regret.

He didn't trust himself to speak.

"I love you, Severus."

They would take any free moments they could find to sneak away together--out onto the grounds in fine weather and to empty classrooms on cold days. They couldn't be together in the open--the gossip of their relationship would be sent home to the parents of their prying classmates, and the parents would spread the news to her parents. And to Malfoy.

Some days they would spend all of their stolen moments talking--pouring out their hearts and minds to one another. Other days, they would simply hold each other in peaceful silence, treasuring the warmth of their closeness. Severus did his best to keep his passions in check--he knew his raw emotional drives frightened her. But it was difficult not to act on his feelings.

The day before the Christmas break, he let his passions get the best of him. They were hidden in an empty classroom down a rarely used corridor, and had locked the door behind them. She didn't resist him when he slid her robes from her shoulders. She didn't stop him when he unbuttoned her blouse to caress the soft flesh beneath. But when he reached to unbutton her skirt, she pulled away from him.

"I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry Severus--I can't do this."

"I love you, Cissy. You love me. Please--let us share this. Please."

"I can't, it's not right--"

"Why is it not right for two people who love each other to share this together? Why is that not right?"

"Because he'll know," she cried. "On our wedding night, he'll know!"

He drew back from her in shock. "You don't still intend to marry that man?"

She sank into a chair, sobbing into her hands. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Narcissa! Look at me," he said, pulling her chin up with his hand. "Tell me the truth, Cissy."

Her lip trembled, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I received an owl from my parents yesterday," she said. "They know, Severus. We weren't careful enough. Somehow, they found out. They're not letting me come back to school after the break. They said a wife doesn't really need her NEWT's, anyway. The wedding is still set for the middle of July. I am to spend the first half of the year polishing my manners and preparing for my new role as a wife under my mother's tutelage. Today, I was supposed to say goodbye."

"You're not coming back?" he asked in shock, sinking into the chair beside her.

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Severus," she whispered.

"No," he said fiercely. "No! It doesn't have to be like this!"

"How else can it be?"

He jumped to his feet, and pulled her forcefully up to stand beside him, holding her close. "Come away with me," he whispered urgently. "When we go to the Hogsmeade train station, we'll slip away from the crowd, and hide in the village until the train is gone. Then we'll Apparate away from Hogsmeade together. We can go to Ireland, or to France, and be married before they have time to find us."

She caught her breath sharply. "You're asking me to elope with you?"

"Yes!" he cried, "I no longer care if we have your parents' permission. All I want is to be with you, no matter what the consequences are."

She stood quietly for a time, trembling in his arms. Finally, she spoke, "I can't come with you, Severus. I just can't do it. I'm sorry."

"But why?" he snarled.

She pulled away from him, and turned her back to him. "It broke their hearts when Andromeda eloped with that mudblood. I couldn't do that to them. I owe it to my family to keep the bloodlines pure--it's my duty. I've known my fate since I was a little girl. It was wrong of me to ever let myself feel something for you. I'm sorry."

He watched in silence as she buttoned her blouse, put her robes back on, and left. He didn't see her again for more than seven months.

She woke with a start as he clasped his hand over her mouth to stifle her cry of alarm. "Shhh," he whispered, removing his hand.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "I wondered if you'd come," she whispered, sitting up in her bed.

"And I have. I couldn't stay away," he replied. "You know why I've come."

She nodded, "You've come to ask me one more time. To ask me to run away with you."

His eyes bored into her face. It was so hard to hold himself back, seeing her again like this. "Has your answer changed?" he asked, his desperate hope evident in his voice.

A single tear slid down her cheek. "No, it hasn't."

He choked back a cry of rage and frustration, than stood trembling, and downcast. "I will always love you--I promise you that," he said.

"I know," she answered.

Without another word, he backed away from her, staring into her eyes until he reached the open window. He silently slid back out her window, and into the night.

Two weeks later, she was married. The morning after the wedding, he received an owl bearing an unsigned note--but he instantly recognized her slanting script. "He would have killed us both," the note read. "I know him well enough by now to know that he would have found us, and he would have killed us both. I love you too much to put your life at risk. Please forgive me. Goodbye."

++++

"Good evening, Severus," said Dumbledore. "If I recall, our interview is not scheduled until tomorrow night. Did you forget?"

Severus shuffled his feet, staring at his old Headmaster, and the shawl-covered frizzy-haired woman with large thick glasses who sat beside him. The words of the prophesy that Severus had just overheard were still spinning through his head--he had to warn his Master, immediately. But first he had to get past Dumbledore.

"No. No, Sir. I didn't forget," he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at the menacing barman who had prevented him from hearing the entirety of the prophesy. "I just ... I just came up the stairs the wrong way," he said lamely. "And I thought this was someone else's room, and was surprised to hear your voice in it. That's all."

He knew that a Legilimens as expert as Dumbledore would see right through his story, but what else was he to say? The truth?

To his surprise, Dumbledore's face softened, and the old man said, "It's quite all right, my boy. We all make mistakes from time to time. But mistakes can always be forgiven--if forgiveness is sought willingly."

Severus stared in wonder at the old wizard. Was he really saying ...? No, he couldn't be.

"Thank you, Headmaster," he mumbled.

"I'll see you at our interview tomorrow, Severus."

Severus could only nod. He allowed the barman to lead him away without a fight.

++++

He winced as the memories fought for attention, pouring out from behind his barriers like a waterfall breaking through a dam. They came faster, and harder, and he struggled to make sense of them. He struggled to remind himself why he had done all that he had done. And why he had promised to do what he must do....

It wasn't hard to earn a place in Lucius Malfoy's social circle. An arranged introduction at the Club they both belonged to, a few glib sycophantic phrases, and he was soon being invited to card games and dinners with Lucius and all of his pure-blooded friends. They never once questioned his right to belong in their company. Before long, he was Lucius' new favorite.

Several weeks had passed before he was invited to Malfoy Manor. The gang went to enjoy Lucius' fine new wizard-billiards table. Snape had been there for nearly an hour before he saw her. She looked thin, and worn. Her hair was bound up tightly on her head--not long and loose like he remembered it. She brought in a tray of drinks for her husband and his guests. When she saw Severus, she nearly dropped the tray. Lucius stalked over to her.

"Please learn to control your clumsiness in front of our guests!" he berated her, taking the tray, and setting it on a side table.

Severus could see the shadow of old bruises under her eye, and on her jaw. He clenched his teeth tightly, striving to keep his emotions under control--it wouldn't be prudent to kill his host in front of so many witnesses.

A short time later, the gang retired to the smoking room for cigars. Snape volunteered to return to the billiard room to collect the brandy that had been forgotten there. She was waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a frightened voice.

"I came to see you, of course," he answered. "Once I determined that the only way I could see you again was to befriend your pig of a husband, that's exactly what I did."

"You don't belong here," she said flatly. "You don't belong with them. You're better than them."

"I'm well aware of it," he smiled. "But life calls for certain sacrifices."

"You have to be careful--he's very jealous. He won't tolerate it if he sees you seeking me out too often."

"He won't notice. I have ways of controlling him."

She was silent for a few more minutes. "I'm glad to see you," she finally said, "but you need to be careful. He has ... powerful friends. Friends that you would do best to avoid."

"You're referring, I assume, to his membership in the Death Eaters?" Snape said, raising one eyebrow. "Yes, I know of his service to the Dark Lord. It doesn't frighten me."

"It should," she whispered back.

He forcefully slowed the memories of the next few months to a sluggish eddy. He remembered every detail--the glances across crowded rooms. Handshakes that lasted a bit too long. Occasional stolen conversations while everyone else was occupied. He never had a chance to see her alone for long. He sank once more into the depths of his past....

Unexpectedly, Snape had discovered his time with his new friends had rewards beyond his occasional meetings with Narcissa. In Malfoy's gang, Snape had finally found pure-bloods who appreciated his talents. They were impressed, and at times a little awed by his mastery of Dark Magic.

It was less than three months after Snape's first encounter with Malfoy when Lucius approached him at the Club, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "The Dark Lord has heard of your skills. He is very impressed. He would like to meet you."

Snape smiled. "When?"

Two weeks later, he was attending a party with the entire usual crowd. He took a moment to step out on the veranda for some fresh air. As had happened so often before, she followed him.

But instead of her usual soft smile, her face looked grim. "Show it to me!" she hissed.

"What?" he feigned ignorance.

"You know what."

He looked her in the eye for a moment longer, and then pulled up the sleeve on his left arm. The Mark still ached raw and red in his flesh.

She stared at it--expressionless. "You didn't have to," she whispered.

"Yes I did," he replied.

"Why?"

"For respect."

++++

"It's too much, Headmaster. Too much," said Severus. "It's one thing to be fighting grown wizards--but children? Babies? I just can't do it anymore. It's too much."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you told your Master of the prophecy in the first place. He would never have turned to baby-killing if it weren't for you, Severus," replied Dumbledore.

"You think I don't know that? You think that thought doesn't plague me every waking minute?" retorted Severus.

"Why are you here, Severus?"

He sat in silence, looking at that once-kindly face behind its half-moon spectacles. "You were right to be worried about me, Headmaster. I've made so many mistakes."

"But why are you here, Severus?"

"I want to help you--I want to make amends for what I've done. I want out of this whole sorry business altogether. I ..."

"This is all very good, Severus. But you still haven't really answered my question. Why are you here?"

A dry sob rose in Severus' throat. The man could see things in his mind that he couldn't even see himself. "I'm here..." he began."I'm here because I want you to forgive me."

He sobbed again, and buried his face in his hands.

++++

Taking his vow as a Death Eater had not changed Snape's life much. Being low down in the Death Eater hierarchy, he was rarely called upon by his Master. He would go to the occasional meetings and do his share of the bowing and groveling--a humiliating if necessary piece of business--and occasionally be asked to collect a piece or two of information. And he would brew potions. He had been elevated to the rank of Master Apothecary just after joining the Death Eaters, and they had made good use of his skills. Hardly a day went by when part of his time in the shop wasn't spent brewing up something at his Master's request. Mainly it was healing potions, or draughts intended to give vitality or extend life. But sometimes it was poison.

That night he returned home from a rendezvous with two other Death Eaters at which he had passed along a vial of a very potent poison. He tried very hard not to think about who might ingest it.

He had just poured himself a glass of wine when he heard a knock at the door of his house--the house his father had left him when he died. It was probably a Muggle salesman. But he decided to answer anyway.

It was her.

She was looking thinner and more worn than before. Without a sound, she slipped past him into the house. He closed the door, and asked her to sit down.

"Why did you risk coming here?" he asked.

"Lucius is gone tonight. He's gone lots of nights lately," she answered. She looked frightened, and hurt.

"What's wrong? How can I help you?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't know if anyone can help me anymore," she answered with a haunted look.

"What is it, Cissy? Please--tell me."

She looked into his eyes. Her face was full of pain. "I'm pregnant," she said. "I hate him. I hate him--and I'm pregnant with his child." She began to cry. "I don't know who I am anymore, Severus. I don't know who I am, and now I'm going to have a child with a man I hate. I don't know what to do!" She was sobbing now, rocking back and forth. He had never seen her like this before. It frightened him.

He moved to sit next to her, and pulled her close to his chest. She lay there, sobbing into his shoulder, for a very long time. At last, she stopped. "I don't know if I can do this, Severus. I feel so alone," she whispered.

"You never have to be alone as long as I love you," he said. "And I will love you forever--or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't," she said, looking up into his eyes with longing.

He reached forward and pulled out the pins that bound her hair to her head one by one. Once her hair fell long and loose again, he ran his hands through it as he had done so often in the past. Then, he took her back into his arms. And soon after, he took her into his bed.

The affair lasted for more than a year. And it was the happiest year of his life. His tasks for the Death Eaters continued to be insignificant, but he didn't mind. It left him with extra free time for Narcissa--and with fewer crimes to weigh on his conscience. Lucius was gone on the Dark Lord's business several nights every week, and every time he was, Narcissa could be found in Snape's house.

Snape was very amused by the fact that one night he would be in his friend's house playing billiards, and the very next night his friend's wife would be in his house playing something much more serious. Snape felt it was fitting punishment for Lucius' mistreatment of his wife that he should be cuckolded by his friend.

Nothing was more amazing to Snape, or brought him more happiness, than to watch the progress of her pregnancy. He felt a joy like nothing he had ever experienced before the first time he felt the child move, his hand pressed against her skin. He watched in wonder as her abdomen tightened and expanded. He personally brewed all the finest remedies for morning sickness and heartburn, and all the potions intended to grant health and strength to both mother and child. There were times when it was very easy to pretend that it was his child. At times he actually believed it.

The baby was born on a blustery day in early February. Snape wasn't able to see it until, after three weeks, Lucius threw a celebratory party for all his friends to come and admire the newest heir of the illustrious Malfoy name--his son, Draco. Snape watched her from across the room throughout the party. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. And the child looked strong, and large, and healthy.

Late in the evening Snape finally caught a moment to speak to her alone, as she held the sleeping infant in her arms.

"He's beautiful," he told her.

"He's the best thing I've ever done," she replied.

"I think he's going to have your nose."

She looked up at him for a moment, with sorrow in her eyes, and then looked back down at the child. "He should have been yours, Severus. Refusing to go away with you was the biggest mistake of my life. He should have been yours."

"In my heart, he is mine. And always will be."

Their visits from that time forward were often filled with nothing but talk--but to Snape's astonishment, those evenings of conversation did more to deepen his love for her than all of their passionate encounters had. And frequently, she would bring Draco with her.

Snape marveled at the joy he felt every time he saw the child. The boy would be bigger, and stronger, and more alert each and every time he saw him. Snape would smile with wonder as he held Draco, and saw him smile and laugh for the first time. He beamed with pride as little Draco learned to pick up his rattle, and to sit unsupported.

All the black deeds that he was called upon to witness and abet in his service to the Dark Lord were washed from his mind each time he held the smiling infant in his arms.

++++

"Why do you want to protect Potter's child? Didn't you always hate him?" asked Dumbledore.

"My feelings about Potter have not changed. But the boy didn't choose his parents. No child has that privilege. No more did he choose to be born at the end of July. Or to be the potential object of a prophesy. He is an innocent. And he deserves a chance to live," Severus replied.

"Let me tell you something important, Severus. The one power that Voldemort has never been able to understand or control is the power of love. It was love that broke your oath of loyalty to Voldemort, wasn't it? When you learned to love a child, you found that you could not bear the thought of harming someone else's child--no matter what your Master said."

"As always, you are right. I could not help but wonder, what if Draco had been the object of the prophesy? Would the Dark Lord have acted any differently? And I know that he would not. He would have as readily killed the child of a faithful servant as he would the child of an enemy," admitted Severus.

Dumbledore smiled at him--the way he had once smiled so warmly at the student across his desk. "I'm proud of you, Severus--coming to me like this took a great deal of courage, and an even greater portion of humility. I am very, very proud. Nevertheless, I am afraid that I have something to ask of you--something exceedingly dangerous. But it may be the only way to save the lives of these children."

"You want me to go back," whispered Snape. "I can't. He'll pull the traitorous thoughts right out of my mind. He'll kill me--he may even take out his fury on Cissy and Draco. You can't ask this of me, Headmaster."

"I can. And I do. You have the strength within you to fight him, Severus. That strength simply needs to be trained, and channeled."

"How?"

"Occlumency, Severus. This very night, I will begin instructing you in the art of Occlumency."

"Will it be enough?"

"It will be. It must be. I believe in you, Severus."

++++

The warmth and joy of the streaming memories began to fade, only to be replaced by cold and pain. He clenched his jaw, and prepared himself to remember even the darkest hours--only his blackest moments would give him the strength to do what he had been asked....

It was the first time Snape had ever been called to a meeting alone with the Dark Lord. He was kneeling, bowed low, trembling in the dim audience chamber before his Master.

"What is your bidding, my Lord?" he asked, his eyes still on the floor before him.

"I have need of a spy in Hogwarts, Severus. I understand you were always on rather good terms with Dumbledore during your days as a student?" came the high, cold voice.

"Yes, my Lord. The Headmaster took a liking to me."

"Excellent. Dumbledore is seeking a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I want you to apply for the post."

Snape caught his breath. He had not expected anything like this. "But ... my Lord ... I was just made a Junior Partner at my work. It would seem suspicious for me to aband--"

"Crucio!"

Snape's excuse was cut short by the sudden feeling of intense and blinding pain that overcame him. He fell on his face, writhing, and screaming. It felt as if every blood vessel in his body was about to burst. He was on fire.

And then it was over, as swiftly as it had begun. Snape gasped for air, trembling and shaking all over.

"You think I am not aware of your traitorous desires, Severus? You think I don't know how you begrudge me the acts of deference and respect that are my due? You think I don't know how you consider yourself better than your fellow servants? You think I don't know how you care more about your dalliance with your friend's wife than you do about giving loyal service to your rightful Master?"

Snape quailed with fear as one by one the Dark Lord named each of his deepest secrets. "Forgive me, Master," he cried. "Forgive me for my disloyalty!"

"Go, and do my bidding, Severus. If you succeed in infiltrating Hogwarts, I may forgive you. But if you fail--you will be punished."

Snape had thought his pain had been intense at his last meeting with the Dark Lord--but at his next meeting, he learned the true meaning of the word "suffering." His own screams echoed in his ears as if they came from a stranger's mouth. He longed for the pain to end. He longed for death. But it would not stop.

He had failed his Master. Dumbledore had denied him the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape had hoped that his news of the prophesy would spare him some of the punishment that awaited him, but when the Dark Lord learned that he had been caught eavesdropping, and that he had not heard the entirety of the prophesy, his anger and wrath had flared far beyond anything Snape had ever seen before.

The torture had gone on for hours. And it was made even worse by the fact that it was public; the entire membership of the Death Eaters had been called to witness his punishment--his humiliation. He was being made an example.

Every time he lost consciousness, he would be revived, and the torture would begin anew. He longed for the Dark Lord to put his pain to an end by killing him.

Finally, as the dawn approached, his Master ended the torture. Snape lay shaking in the dust, blood trickling from his nose and his mouth and the corners of his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You have all seen, this night, the price of failure," came the cold hard voice. "I am granting the sniveling worm his life--this time. He knows what will happen if he fails me again. As do you all."

The only thing that gave Snape any hope for comfort from his pain and humiliation was the thought that soon, he would once again be in the arms of his love. But she did not come. Night after night he waited for her, and still she did not come. He did not dare go by Malfoy Manor--Lucius had been shunning him since the night of his punishment. But he worried. He wondered if his punishment had been extended to include her as well.

Finally, nearly two weeks after his night of humiliation, a strange woman entered the Apothecary shop, and asked to see him. Though he had never seen her before in his life, he knew immediately who she must be. She looked so much like her younger sister; it was as if an older version of his Narcissa had appeared to stand before him. She was Andromeda, the blood-traitor sister of his lover. "This is for you," she said softly, handing him a folded parchment.

He opened it with trembling hands, to read: "Lucius knows I have been unfaithful. He doesn't know it was you--I have refused to tell him. You must never try to see me again, or he will learn the truth, and he will kill you. Farewell, my love."

He sank, trembling, into a chair, a feeling of weakness and sickness spreading through his being.

"He almost killed her," said Andromeda. "She was in St. Mungo's for more than a week."

Snape barely restrained tears from forming in his eyes. His whole world--his whole life--was falling apart all around him. "Please," he whispered, looking up at Andromeda. "Please, I have to see her again. You have to help me."

"You know I can't do that," she said.

"Please!" he pleaded, grasping her hand. "Please! I love her. Please!"

Andromeda stared at him coldly for a moment, before answering. "We've been watching Draco for her while this blows over. Lucius is bringing her over to visit tomorrow afternoon, at two o'clock. If you come over at one o'clock, we will hide you in our cellar until Lucius leaves. Then, you can speak to her. But if she wants you to leave, I expect you to go without a fight."

He nodded eagerly. "Thank you! Thank you!"

Draco had grown so much since last he saw him. His heart lifted to see the boy's smile again. But he was only allowed a few moments with him before Andromeda rushed him to the cellar, and placed a few spells of concealment over him. It seemed an eternity that he waited, cramped and cold in that small cellar. At last, Andromeda came to get him. "Lucius will not be back for two hours," she said in that soft voice of hers. "She is waiting for you."

Narcissa sat alone in the kitchen, staring out the window at the small garden beyond. She looked paler and thinner than he had ever seen her before--he almost thought he could see the light shining right through her, as if she were a ghost.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly.

"You know why I'm here, Cissy. I'm here because I love you. I am here to ask you one more time to go away with me. We can leave today--this afternoon. We can take Draco with us. We'll go to America, or China, or India, or wherever we have to go to escape him," he said breathlessly.

"It isn't Lucius you should worry about escaping," she said with a dead voice.

"Cissy...?" he began.

"You threw away our last chance at escape when your foolish pride drove you to accept that Mark on your arm. You know that as well as I do," she retorted.

Snape's mouth felt dry. He could think of nothing to say.

Narcissa spoke again. "The Dark Lord will not see our flight as lovers eloping--he will only see one of his servants deserting him. And he has no tolerance for desertion. Wherever we go, he will find us, and he will kill us. This is the end, Severus. There is nothing left for us."

"I was a fool to think that I would earn respect by serving the Dark Lord," he said softly. "You were right, Cissy. Fear and respect aren't the same thing. I've never made a bigger mistake in my life."

"Some mistakes cannot be unmade," she answered. "You have to let me go, Severus. You can never see me again."

"What about Draco?" he asked, growing desperate.

"He will come back to live with me and his father. You can't see him anymore."

"No! I have to...!"

"It wouldn't be safe. I won't put my son in danger for you."

"But he is my son too!" Snape cried.

"No! He isn't, Severus--and he never will be, no matter how much you wish for it," she answered coldly.

Even the Dark Lord's torture had not hurt him the way her words did. In growing desperation, he asked, "What if the Dark Lord falls from power? What if he is killed? What of us then?"

"Even if the Dark Lord died tomorrow, I still would not leave with you," she said. "You did not see what Lucius did to me--you don't know what he's capable of. I will not put Draco at risk of growing up motherless. I won't do that to him. I wish things could be different, Severus, but they are not. There's nothing we can do. I'm sorry."

He choked, holding back his tears. "So am I, Cissy. So am I."

He could once again feel the prick of tears in his eyes as the memories flowed over him. He could feel the pain as fresh as if it were yesterday. But yesterday would never come again. The stream of memories continued to flow, and more pain flowed with it....

Severus sat crouched in the bushes on the far side of the wide lawn, hidden by the protection of a disillusionment charm. He was waiting, as he had so many times in the recent past, to catch a glimpse of them when she brought him out to play. Draco was more than a year old now, and he had recently learned to walk. Nothing lifted Snape's heart like seeing the boy toddle awkwardly across the wide expanse of green.

Today, he was in luck. He had been concealed for less than an hour when Narcissa and her son emerged from the house. She sat on the lawn, and sent a stream of multi-colored bubbles shooting out of her wand. Draco squealed with delight, and began chasing the bubbles around the lawn, moving as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him. He laughed in delight every time he caught up with a bubble, and popped it with his hand.

Severus sat watching for a long time. Usually, watching the boy play would cheer his aching heart--but not today. Today, all he could think of was the two other small boys who were loved as much by their parents as Draco was loved by him. The two little boys whose lives hung by a thread. The two little boys whom the Death Eaters were drawing closer to finding every single day.

And as he sat, watching Draco play, Snape knew what he needed to do. He would go to see Dumbledore. It was the only way.

++++

"I had to make the Unbreakable Vow, Headmaster. I had no choice--Bellatrix would have gone running straight to the Dark Lord with accusations of disloyalty if I had not."

Dumbledore gave a slight sigh, and looked down at his blackened, shriveled hand. Severus cringed at the sight of it--he had done all in his power to restore the hand, to no avail. And still, Dumbledore refused to tell him how he had sustained the injury. He looked tired. And old. Severus was worried about him.

He wished he could ease the old wizard's burdens, but instead he only added to them with the news of Draco's mission, and of the Vow that he had so recently made. Severus wished with all his heart that Dumbledore would confide in him, and allow him to help.

The Headmaster looked back up into Severus' eyes, and said, "You still can't be honest with yourself, can you Severus? You didn't make the Vow because of Bellatrix. You made it because you wanted to. Because you still love them, and you wanted to help them."

Snape looked at his mentor in astonishment. Dumbledore gave him a kindly smile, and said, "I do not always need Legilimency to see what is in someone's heart, Severus. Sometimes, friendship is enough."

++++

Snape's naturally secretive nature had prepared him well for learning the art of Occlumency. In a matter of only a few short days with Dumbledore he had become truly adept at the art, and by the time he returned to face his Master his barriers had become strong. His betrayal had not been detected. And his services as a spy had been enough to protect the Longbottoms. But not the Potters.

The Dark Lord's fall was so sudden and so unexpected that the Death Eaters were left in a state of dizzy panic. It was with a sense of the deepest relief that Snape accepted Dumbledore's offer for shelter, and took up the post of Potions Master at Hogwarts. His journey into darkness was over. He hoped that somehow, with the Headmaster's help, he could find a way to go on living.

He sighed, the memories swirling faster and faster around him as they grew more recent. These memories were not hidden so deep as the others, and the wounds they had caused still felt fresh....

As time passed, he found that though he no longer needed to shelter his mind from the Dark Lord, his Occlumency skills were still of utmost value. The barriers that he had learned to construct not only sheltered his secret life from others, but also from himself. He found that it was the only way he could bear the pain of what he had lost. And the pain of what he was still forced to endure.

Dumbledore had made one last request of him, in his role as a spy. He had asked that Snape keep up his ties of friendship with the Death Eaters that had gone free, so that he could be alert to any possible attempts to find and revive their Master. Dumbledore taught him the art of Legilimency, so that he could peer inside the minds of those he was forced to call his friends.

He did as Dumbledore asked. But it forced him, again and again, to face Narcissa without ever betraying what they once had--what they had lost. Only by forcing all memories of her and her son back behind the barriers in his mind could he face her and Lucius with any equanimity. The barriers of Occlumeny allowed him to see her, and even speak with her, with the same cool distance that he felt for his other friends' wives. He could act as if she meant nothing to him.

One summer day, nearly ten years after the Dark Lord's fall, Snape sat in the front room of his father's old house, where he still spent every summer. He was reading through a stack of foreign potion-related periodicals, trying to stay abreast of any new developments being made abroad. He was not expecting any visitors, and was surprised when he heard a knock on his door.

He rose, and answered, expecting to find a lost or confused Muggle. Instead, he found her.

He stood frozen in shock. He didn't know what to say, or even what to think. The barriers in his mind began to crack and crumble, allowing the old memories of the dozens of times she had visited him at this house to flood his mind.

"Severus," she said nervously. "May I come in?"

He nodded, and stepped aside to allow her to enter. He managed to regain his powers of speech, and said, "Please, sit down."

She stepped inside, and sat on the sofa. The same sofa where, so many years earlier, she had first told him of her pregnancy. He stood nervously, looking at her. "Do you ... Do you want anything to drink?" he stammered.

She shook her head. "No. Thank you."

After standing for a minute more, he finally went and sat in an armchair across the room from her.

They sat like that, in silence, for close to five minutes--just staring at each other. Living in their memories. She was the one to break the silence. "You--must be wondering why I'm here," she said.

"I confess I am," he answered carefully.

"I wanted to talk to you about Draco," she said.

"Is he all right? Is something wrong?" Snape asked worriedly.

"He's fine Severus. He's just ..." she broke off, as if unsure what to say. She tried again. "He'll be starting at Hogwarts this September, you know. You'll be his teacher."

"I know," he said in a tone just above a whisper. He had thought of little else since February, when Draco had turned eleven.

"I'm worried about him, Severus," she said. "He is so like his father. Too much like his father. I'm afraid ... I don't ... I don't want him to be the same kind of man as his father. I don't want my son to make his father's mistakes."

He nodded for her to continue. "Severus," she said hesitantly, "I want to ask for your help."

"What can I do for you, Narcissa?"

She looked him in the eye, with a deep sadness on her face. "Will you look after my son? Will you be his friend--his mentor? I want you to help him be a better man than his father. Will you help me with that, Severus?"

He wanted to cross the room and take her in his arms. He wanted to comfort her, and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to do anything he could to ease the pain and sorrow in her eyes. But he held himself back, saying only, "I will do whatever I can, Narcissa. I will do my best to help him--I promise."

He could see tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you, Severus. Thank you. I was afraid ..." she stopped suddenly.

"What were you afraid of?"

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. "You've been so cold to me, the past few years. It's like we're strangers. I was afraid that you'd grown to hate me--and to hate my son."

Snape could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He stood, walked to the sofa, and sat beside her, taking her hand in his. "I once promised you that I would always love you--and your son," he said softly. "I have never broken that promise."

The tears streamed freely down her face, and she turned away from him to stare at the floor. They sat like that for several minutes, holding hands as she cried in silence. Finally, she stood, and made for the door. "I have to go now," she said, "before Lucius misses me."

"Cissy," he said, gripping her hand more tightly, "you don't have to go."

She continued to look away from him. "Yes, I do," she said. "I may not love my husband--but I belong with him. Sometimes, that is more important than love. Thank you, Severus. And good-bye." And with that, she left him alone once more.

Everytime Draco looked at him; he could see her looking back. They had the same face--her narrow, pale face. But he had his father's eyes: cold, and gray.

He kept his promise, and did all he could to look after the boy. He watched with pride as Draco quickly established himself as a powerful force within Slytherin house. And he watched with anger and frustration as Draco became the target of hatred and ridicule from Potter and his friends, just as Snape himself had once been hated and ridiculed by a Potter.

He did his best to teach Draco to feel pride in himself without having to draw upon his family name to impress people around him--but there was too much of his father in him. And too often, Draco would fall back on his father's prominence to secure his place in society at Hogwarts. Lucius' mark on Draco's character ran deep, but there were times when Snape could also see Narcissa's influence shining through, and that sign of her led him to love the boy as he once had. To love the boy as his own.

++++

"I think the time has come, Severus, to tell you how I received my injury." Dumbledore sat behind his desk, staring bemusedly at his withered hand.

Severus sat across from him. His old friend and protector was looking more worn and haggard than he had ever seen him. That year Dumbledore had been absent from the school far longer than he had been present. Severus was growing increasingly worried about him.

"Severus," the Headmaster continued. "In all your studies, have you ever read anything of the ancient Dark Magic of Horcruxes?"

"I have read of them--yes. But not much. More than a century ago the various wizarding governments banded together to purge all records of them," replied Severus.

"The secrets of the Horcrux have been rediscovered," said Dumbledore softly.

"Is that how he survived?" Severus asked in amazement. "All these years, is that how he survived?"

Dumbledore nodded, and began to speak. He told Severus all that he knew and all that he suspected, of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He spoke for a very long time.

"Potter is the only one you have told?"

"Yes--and I granted him permission to tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger."

"But no one in the Order?"

"The more that know, the higher the likelihood that our knowledge will be discovered. And if it is, Voldemort will reclaim his Horcruxes, and we will never have another chance to destroy them."

"You say there are six of them?" Severus asked again.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "And one of those six has been destroyed."

"The one that cost you your hand," said Severus.

"Yes. They are well hidden Severus. And well protected." Dumbledore looked Severus in the eyes. "I am not sure if I will succeed." He sounded broken, and afraid. Severus had never heard Dumbledore sound that way before. "If I fail, Severus--you will be the only one that can carry on."

"How can I succeed, where you have failed? My skills cannot rival yours."

"Perhaps not all of your skills, Severus. But there are certain skills at which you are as adept as any wizard I have ever encountered, myself included," said Dumbledore gravely.

"Which skills are those?" asked Severus.

"Occlumency. And Legilimency."

Severus looked at his mentor in disbelief. "You cannot honestly expect me to extract the location of the Horcruxes from the very depths of the Dark Lord's mind?" he asked.

"I do."

"You ask the impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, Severus. If you have the will. And I believe you do," said Dumbledore. "In all your meetings with him, have you never tried to use your powers against him?"

Severus was quiet for a moment. "I have," he admitted. "With little result. I see brief images--or flashes of sounds, or feelings. Nothing more than that. His control over his mind is phenomenal."

"More phenomenal than yours, Severus?"

Severus looked away. "I do not know," he said.

"You are, at this time, his most trusted servant, are you not?" asked Dumbledore.

Severus nodded, "I am."

"Have you noticed any lessening of his mental defenses around you lately?"

"Yes, but not enough."

"I believe I know a way to cause him to trust you more than he has ever trusted another human being. And from that trust, will come his weakness. His trust will make him vulnerable to your invasion upon his mind," said Dumbledore.

"How will I do this?"

Dumbledore sighed, and looked down at his hand again. "I have asked so much of you over the years, Severus. I have asked you for so many sacrifices. And always you have done as I have asked without hesitation. But this task will require all of your strength: and all of your courage."

"What is it, Albus?" Severus asked softly.

"You will do for him the one thing that none of his servants has ever come close to accomplishing. The one thing that even he has failed to achieve," said Dumbledore.

"What?"

"You will kill his greatest enemy. You will kill me, Severus."

Severus stared at his friend, aghast. "No!" he whispered. "You cannot ask this of me."

"I hope that I will not have too. I believe I have found the location of another of the Horcruxes. I feel confident that I will soon discover the others, as well. There is a good chance that I will yet succeed in my task. But if it becomes apparent to me that I will fail--if there is no other way--"

Severus felt himself trembling. He could not look Dumbledore in the eye. He knew that what Dumbledore said was true. There would be no greater way to win the Dark Lord's trust, than through Dumbledore's death. Already, his gentle probing of the Dark Lord's mind had begun to yield greater results. He knew that once he had proven himself with Dumbledore's murder, the twisted and black mind of his Enemy would be more open to him than it had ever been to anyone else. Perhaps even the secrets of the Horcruxes would be laid open to him.

And, his act would spare Draco the weight of his dreadful task. Severus cringed when that thought passed over his mind. How could he sacrifice his dearest friend for the boy he loved as a son? But how could he do otherwise without risking the lives of both Draco and Narcissa?

"I know how difficult what I am asking of you will be, Severus," said Dumbledore. "You are the only one who has the strength for such a task. You are the only one with the courage. I hope the day will never come when I must ask you to do this dark deed--but if it does, I need your promise that you will act without hesitation."

Severus nodded slowly. "I will do as you ask. I promise you."

A look of sad relief spread over the old man's face. "Thank you, Severus."

"When the time comes to act, how will I know?" Severus asked in a cracking voice.

"You will know. I will open my mind to you, and you will know."

"Is there no other way?" Severus asked.

"If you can think of a better way to get inside Voldemort's mind, my dear boy, I would be glad for you to share it with me," said Dumbledore with his familiar gentle smile.

"You know..." said Severus, "You know that you have been dearer to me than a father."

"And I," said Dumbledore, "am as proud of you as any father ever could be of his son."

++++

He sat alone in his dark office, the stream of his memories slowing to a trickle, and swirling around him. He had immersed himself in the flow of his secret life, reliving the joy, and the pain, and the sorrow. He knew this night may be his last chance to ever dwell on the truth of his past. His secret life would soon be forced back into the dark cave where it had lain hidden and still behind the thick dam he had built in front of it. It was time to let go of his reverie of memory, and push the barriers forcefully back into place.

He was worried about Draco. He had tried again and again to get through to the boy, to no avail. Draco had his father's pride--ever unwilling to ask for help, even from his old mentor. And he could see the boy was growing desperate. He was afraid of what he would try next. His probes of the boy's mind had yielded only vague images of a cabinet, and a hidden room. He knew he could learn more, if he forced his way past Draco's weak defenses, but he was hesitant to alienate the boy any more than he already had. And part of him was afraid to stumble across the boy's true feelings about his old Potion's Master. He was afraid to know what Draco really thought of him. But he had to find a way to help him--he just didn't know how.

Without warning, his office door flew open--it was Filius Flitwick. "Death Eaters!" he panted. "Severus, you must come at once! There are Death Eaters in the castle! You have to help ..."

Flitwick fell silent as Severus' stunning spell hit him. He knew what he had to do. He darted out of the office, and nearly tripped over the Lovegood girl. Granger was with her. Potter must have set them to spy on him, curse the suspicious child! He had to get rid of them. "Professor Flitwick has collapsed in my office--I need you to look after him while I get Madam Pomfrey," he said. The two girls blinked in confusion, then nodded and turned to his office while he hastened away from them. The lie had come so easily--a lifetime of practice had prepared him for any lie he needed to tell this night.

The other members of the Order let him pass without a second glance. They saw him as nothing more than reinforcements. He hoped desperately that they would be right. But as he emerged onto the top of the Astronomy Tower, he knew that his hopes were in vain.

Dumbledore stood slumped against the far wall. He looked pale, and weak. Severus had never seen him looking older, or more vulnerable. Dumbledore held no wand.

Draco stood facing the Headmaster, pointing his wand with a trembling hand. He looked terrified.

Four other Death Eaters stood nearby, egging Draco on.

It took only a second for Severus to take in all these details. And only a second more for fear to pierce him--Don't ask it of me! he silently pled.

The pitiful Amycus spoke, "We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able--"

But Dumbledore's pleading voice cut of the Death Eater mid-sentence. "Severus..." he said softly. Severus had never heard him plead with anyone. It was the signal. Legilimens! He thought silently, stretching his mind out to his friend.

He could almost hear the answer, as if Dumbledore had spoken the words aloud, "It is time, Severus. I have failed."

Severus stared at his oldest, truest friend. At that moment, he hated himself for what he was about to do. And he hated every choice that had led him to this moment.

"Severus ... please ..." said Dumbledore quietly, while his mind spoke silently, "I forgive you."

Severus raised his wand, and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of his wand, and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. He watched, unblinking, as the truest friend he had ever had was blasted into the air, to fall limply over the battlements and out of sight.

Severus clenched his heart and steeled his mind. There was no time to mourn--nor would their ever be. He had kept his promises. All of them.

He turned to Draco. "Out of here, quickly," he said, grabbing the boy by the scruff of the neck and forcing him through the door. He had to escape. He had to get Draco out of here.

The safety of his years at Hogwarts had ended. It was time to face his Master. It was time to see whether or not his greatest sacrifice would have any meaning, or if it would be just another memory to hide behind his barriers forevermore.

****

"Kill me then," panted Harry. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--"

"DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"