Trapped

Epilogue

"I have an announcement to make." Professor Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Great Hall, and it sounded more cheerful than anybody had heard him speak for many weeks. "Professor Snape is now on the best way to recover from the severe injuries inflicted upon him by Voldemort and his minions." A shudder ran through the assembled students at the mention of the dreaded name. Although the headmaster had never officially explained what had happened to their Potions master, they had heard plenty of rumors. So it was indeed true that the sinister Professor was not a Dark wizard and follower of You-Know-Who as many had suspected, but had helped fight the monster. Apparently, he had paid for it. "I am pleased to tell you that he will, most probably, start teaching again after the Easter holidays," continued the headmaster. "I expect you to give him the warm welcome a loyal fighter on the side of the Light deserves."

Dumbledore sat down again, ignoring the excited mumbling and chattering of his charges. Severus had always found some sort of morbid delight in the rumors that had grown up around his person over the years, the most persistent being that he was a vampire. Therefore, it wouldn't be he who stopped the gossiping. Everything that might cheer up the recuperating young wizard was more than welcome. Severus had been staying at Headquarters for quite a while now, together with Remus Lupin, so he wouldn't have to worry about curious students watching their feared Potions master making his first feeble steps on the long road to recovery. Most of his memories had come back by now, good ones as well as bad ones, and unfortunately, the latter were the more abundant, especially in the nightmares that frequently haunted him. Dumbledore was glad that Remus and Severus seemed to get along much better than he had anticipated, though this might be no more than an indicator of the fact that the Slytherin wasn't entirely back to his old sarcastic self yet, and this was rather worrying. On the other hand, without James and Sirius around, there might even be a chance for the two former school mates to eventually become friends after all, who knew? To distract the man from his troublesome memories, they had set up a nice little Potions lab in one of the ancient cellar rooms reminiscent of a dungeon. Knowing the Black family, it probably had served exactly that purpose. He couldn't brew for long stretches of time yet, since his knees would start aching and another migraine would be almost inevitable if he overexerted himself. Therefore, complicated potions like the Wolfsbane were still out of the question. However, with the help of some handy charms Filius Flitwick had taught him, and the devoted service of one house elf by the name of Winky, he managed remarkably well so far. Well enough to resume teaching in a couple of weeks, hopefully. Contrary to what most students probably might think, Severus was quite good with house elves, at least as long as they didn't talk too much or tried to mollycoddle him. This was common knowledge among the Hogwarts house elves, and they usually respected the Potions master's idiosyncrasies. Little Winky was absolutely adoring in her miniature white lab suit and gloves - her special work equipment, not clothes, oh no! - and she was learning quickly how to skillfully cut up and prepare ingredients, clean the glassware, knives, and cauldrons, and keep the stores in order. She was so busy and proud of being the Potions master's personal house elf that she had completely given up on butterbeer, another positive effect of the arrangement. Ironically, Severus was otherwise pretty much in the same situation as one Sirius Black had been the previous year, locked up at Headquarters and unable to do much for the Order except for giving advice, and he didn't take it much better than the Animagus. Patience had never been one of Severus's prominent character traits, except when dealing with complex potions, and Dumbledore knew the man would give his life for being able to storm at the Death Eaters this very instant and take revenge. On the other hand, the Slytherin was more reasonable and cunning than the late Gryffindor, at least when not in a senseless rage, and therefore would grudgingly content himself with waiting and silently working for the perfect chance to finally destroy Voldemort and his Death Eaters. This was how snakes were hunting, and the thought would certainly keep him going. At least for a while.

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The classroom door opened with the characteristic bang, and in came the Potions master, black robes billowing behind him. He looked gaunt and pale even for his standards and his stride was missing its usual vigor, however, the withering death-glare the Professor shot at Neville Longbottom when he tipped his flask of diluted Bundimun secretion, was unmistakably the old Snape. Curiously enough, Neville didn't cringe but smiled apologetically at his Professor while wiping up the spilled fluid that slowly ate through the workbench. The boy was much too happy these days to let a mere glare get to him. After fifteen years at St. Mungo's closed ward and to the surprise of everyone, including the healers, most of all Dr. Hippocampus, his parents were finally recovering. A gigantic Acromantula had done the trick for his father, and his mother had been shocked out of insanity by a genuine but well fed Vampire. It had taken some time for them to come to terms with the fact that their little baby boy was a young man already and that they had missed out on fifteen years of their lives. However, they would be allowed to leave St Mungo's soon, and then they would finally be a normal family again. His smile deepened at the warm memory of his mother suddenly recalling his name. No, a little rebuke from his teacher couldn't quench his new happiness. After all, in some way, his parents wouldn't be recovering if it hadn't been for Snape.

One rather pleasant change for the students was that Snape didn't constantly hover over the brewing teenagers, breathing down their necks like a scary overlarge bat, spouting criticism and insults, but stayed in his chair or stood leaning to the edge of his desk during most of the double lesson. In the latter position, he looked rather awkward since he didn't seem to know what to do with his right hand, as he couldn't cross his arms in front of his chest anymore .... Nevertheless, nothing, not the tiniest error or briefest inattention, escaped his scrutinizing gaze.

When Snape deduced ten points from Gryffindor because Harry had added the dragon's blood to his Power-Cleaning solution before the powdered Saponaria, causing an explosion of sticky green goo that bubbled up and released a stench that ominously reminded of troll dung, Harry glared angrily back. However, he quickly lowered his gaze again and began cleaning up the mess. Hermione was right, he probably should pay more attention, or his lack of it might cause a dangerous accident one day. As it was Snape's responsibility to ensure safety in his classroom, it was probably no wonder he was rather strict about things and didn't tolerate sloppiness, though, in Harry's opinion, he overdid it quite a bit. And that he deduced more points from Gryffindor than from any other house continued to rile Harry. After almost six Snape-free months, however, Gryffindor had accumulated so many House points already that it was almost impossible to not win the House Cup this year. The Quidditch Cup was undoubtedly theirs, too, with him as Seeker and Ron as Keeper ....

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger," Snape suddenly announced after the students had handed in their potion samples for grading, "before you leave, there is something for you in the store room, second shelve on the left. Mr. Malfoy, would you please follow me to my office?"

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"Pinch me, Hermione, I believe I'm dreaming. Those are not presents, are they?" asked Ron incredulously. His entire view of life seemed to shatter at the sight of the gift boxes wrapped in green and silver wrappings.

"No, Ron. This is quite real." His friend smiled, reached for the envelope with Ron's name on it and held it out for him. "This one even looks as if it were for you." Of course, his was the smallest gift, if it was a gift at all and not a simple thank-you card. Although, he hadn't even expected that much from the Potions master. When he opened the envelope and peeked inside, his eyes grew wide despite his initial disappointment. "Wow, tickets for the Chudley Cannon match next weekend, two of them, and prime seats at that!" The note attached to the tickets informed that a Portkey would be arranged for him and a certain Miss Greenleaf to take them to the stadium and back again. A certain Miss Greenleaf? How could the greasy git possibly know about Silene? He hadn't known himself until quite recently. Did the slimy Slytherin, now that he couldn't spy on Voldemort anymore, use his double agent skills on his students? Glorious prospects, indeed. There was a card, as well, green with a silver Slytherin crest and no more than two words on it, 'Thank you', plus the initials S.S. - So, Snape knew how to spell the words after all, thought Ron, though he doubted that the surly Professor was capable of actually saying them. He'd surely rather bite off his tongue than utter them in the presence of any student, especially if the student was a Gryffindor. Not that he was exactly keen on having a private talk with the Potions teacher, and the thought of having to shake hands with the greasy git gave him the creeps. No, better a short and painless card. Probably, it hadn't even been that painless for Snape to write down those two words thinking of whom he owed his life to. Moreover, the fact that he had Neville Longbottom's blood cursing through his veins now must surely be beyond painful for the Head of Slytherin. Ron chuckled and turned to his friend. "What did you get, 'Mione? A Potions book?"

"A brand new one, 'Complex Potions for Masters'; it's not even on sale yet! And there's a dedication: 'For a most promising student, Perseus Evans.' That's the author! It even has the Wolfsbane recipe ..."

"Oh, stop it, 'Mione. Get your nose out of that book and open that other little box, it's for you, too." Hermione tore her eyes off her new possession with an effort and began to unwrap the little parcel.

"Another bracelet for Crookshanks! And Snape put a tracing spell on it. That's nice." She could even use both bracelets together; combined, the filigreed silver one with emeralds from Draco and the enchanted black one would be rather stunning. If not for his ginger color, Crooks would look like a Slytherin mascot with those .... Softly chuckling at the thought, Hermione turned around and looked at Neville's gift. It was by far the largest one. Neville was smiling as he read the note that went with the shining cauldron. "It's a Cauldron-Never-Burn, a recent invention by some American. A real hit in the States. There must be quite a few wizards there who have the same problem I have, even without having Snape breathing down their neck, making them jumpy! It starts sounding an alarm as soon as the contents in the cauldron near boiling point. Potions lessons should be a lot safer now." Neville grinned widely.

"Looks as if Snape found the right thing for everybody. Wonder what's in Ginny's box? A little booklet or something?"

"Let's go give it to her, Ron. She'll be in the Great Hall having lunch. I'm rather hungry, too."

"Guess what I am, 'Mione? Could eat an entire horse .... And I have to tell Silene about the tickets!"

For the first time in six years, the three Gryffindors left the Potions classroom chuckling and chatting instead of fuming with anger and frustration or, in Neville's case, scared out of their mind.

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"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sat down in the indicated armchair in front of the large fireplace in Snape's office, opposite from his teacher. This certainly was very unusual since students always had to take the rather uncomfortable chair in front of the desk, if they were allowed to sit down at all.

"Sir, I want to apologize for what ..."

"No, Mr. Malfoy, you don't need to apologize for anything," interrupted Snape sharply. "It wasn't your fault. I'm the one to blame since it was I who invented that blasted potion in the first place. You aren't responsible for what happened. You are only responsible for what you did afterwards, and that you can be proud of." A short moment of silence ensued that gave Draco the chance to let Snape's words sink in before his Head of House spoke again.

"I assume you are taking the Mark as soon as you turn seventeen?" Trust Snape to not beat around the bush .... Draco nodded. "The headmaster told me what happened, and what you are planning. You are aware of how difficult this will be, and of the extreme danger? Mortal danger?" Draco nodded again. He had seen with his own eyes how badly Voldemort reacted to treachery. He only needed to look at his teacher, at the black cloak that hid what he knew wasn't there anymore. The thought alone made him shudder. However, his resolve stood firm. He would take the Dark Mark and spy on his future master, so his kids, if he ever were to have any, could grow up without the threat of darkness looming over them. Who knew, perhaps he would even marry a certain 'mudblood', which he couldn't possibly do as long as Voldemort was around. His lips curled up in a grim smile at the thought.

"I see I won't be able to talk you out of this." Snape sighed resignedly. "The Order dearly needs a spy now that I am unable to function in that capacity." His onyx eyes darkened and he fell silent for a moment. "However, this is no children's game," he finally continued. "You need to be prepared as well as possible. Learn how to occlude your mind against external penetration, for instance, is imperative. And you better be good at it, or you won't stand a chance against a master legilimens as the Dark Lord. Nevertheless, I dare say you'll surely master this obscure branch of magic far better than a certain Gryffindor celebrity. You aren't a Slytherin for nothing, Mr. Malfoy. Of course, you must not be seen to associate with a known traitor to the so-called Cause outside classes as not to arouse suspicion. I'll give you the password to the secret passage that leads from the Slytherin common room to my private quarters. Feel free to use it whenever you want." He smiled reassuringly at the blond Slytherin. Although his Slytherins were not nearly as scared of him as the students of the other Houses the thought of actually entering the den of the Head snake must make the boy nervous. He would have been scared out of his wit if his former Head of House had invited him to his private quarters. However, that was an entirely different story ... "As you will surely hear soon enough, I gave those Gryffindor saviors of mine some presents. You, however, I want to offer my sincere thanks and my friendship. My door will always be open for you, Draco."

"Thank you, sir," the future spy finally managed to stutter.

"Draco, are you quite sure nobody suspects anything? There've been rumors about you and a certain Gryffindor know-it-all. Then there was this owl to your father, and people surely observed you frequenting the hospital wing during my stay."

"Oh, that's no problem, sir. That was only to spy on you." A sly smile graced his lips. "Hermione ... Ms Granger is nothing but a means to get closer to Wonderboy Potter - officially. My mother took the blame for the owl. She's going to stay in Switzerland in hiding until the war is over." Snape nodded thoughtfully. He was probably the only one who had known for years that Narcissa had stayed with Lucius and kept up the facade of a perfectly functioning pureblood family only for the sake of her son. It was only logical that she would protect Draco, even if it meant for her to live in exile and apart from her son for years. At least, she was away from Lucius now.

"You know that your father and I were once friends?" Snape asked softly. "Or rather, I thought we were." He looked to the floor, almost sounding sad for a moment. Then he locked his gaze with Draco's again. "I didn't realize it was farce until I found myself up to my eyes in a swamp of lies, blood, death and pain. Dumbledore gave me a second chance. I'm glad you took your first one." The smile Snape gave him was so sincere and full of affection and pride; it made Draco's heart skip a beat. He had never seen his acerbic Potions teacher smile like this. Nor, in fact, his father. The friendship of this man was worth all the trouble and danger he had gotten himself into; it was the most precious gift he had ever received, except probably for Hermione. He would make sure to not disappoint the Professor, not ever.

"Professor, you are all right, aren't you?" Draco asked with sudden concern.

"Don't worry, Draco. As long as I have my wand arm to fight with ..." It was Snape's turn to smile grimly, and Draco was more than glad he was on the same side now. He wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the Professor's wrath, no, Merlin forbid. Finally, Snape rose. "You better go get yourself some lunch or you'll be late for Transfiguration. You don't want McGonagall to deduct House points, do you? And I need some rest before I can face another batch of dunderheads ...." He accompanied Draco to the door. "Take care, Draco."

"You too, Professor." Smiling back at his Head of house, Draco left for the Great Hall.

The End