Breaking the Chains

Mercabilis

Severus blinked, running a quick edit in his mind of all the tings he wanted to say. Still not releasing her chin he settled for "Pardon me?" as nothing else really seemed to do.

Hermione for her part, looked into his eyes with an almost pleading expression, and seemed unable to repeat herself.

Having reached an impasse, Severus too wary of the surroundings and her response to ask any of the questions racing through his mind, and Hermione rendered incapable of speech by fear of what his silence meant, neither spoke for a moment.

After a pause that seemed to stretch to eternity, Severus released her chin and said, in a flat measured tone, "We should continue this discussion in my office."

Again, Hermione was struck with the fear that he was going to desert her, or force her secret into the open, by the strange formality of his tone, a formality she had thought long since abandoned when they were in private.

In the time it had taken her to process these thoughts, Severus (was it her imagination or was he turning back into Professor Snape before her eyes) had risen and began moving towards the exit. Banishing the book she had been reading back to its rightful place on the shelf, she rose to follow him, subconsciously falling in step a few paces behind him, like a student being led to his office for punishment.

Once they were clear of the library and the watchful glare of Madame Pince, he fell back a few paces to walk by her side, carefully masked concern visible on his face as he looked down at her. But Hermione, who was studying her feet, did not notice this. Severus sighed inwardly, and settled for steering her around the obstacles she did not see by light touches of her elbow, than trying to pull her out of the depression into which she seemed to have sunk. That needed a setting more private that the corridors, so he settled for increasing his pace, and hurrying her along with him as well.

When they finally reached his classroom he had sorted his thoughts into a plan of attack, and led her through to his office. But when he sat down his desk and gestured for her to take the seat on the other side, the numb look on her face morphed into an expression of pain.

She sat immediately and dropped her head, once again folding her hands in her lap and studying them. She evidently assumed that she was now banned from his rooms.

"Hermione, look at me. Please."

It wasn't quite his teaching voice, but the command was there nevertheless. After a moment and the please, she complied, obviously fighting back tears.

"Hermione, listen to me carefully. I have invested too much time and effort in getting you to like me, to push you away now. Not to mention that seeing you, being near you, is the highlight of my day." At this he paused and a smile of delight lit up her face. So he continued.

"You know that's the truth. (A nod.) But Madame Pince will have heard every word said in the library - generally one of her more useful skills - but in this case meaning that we will be receiving a visit from the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey in fairly short order. Were they to find us in my rooms, Minerva and Poppy at least would jump to the wrong conclusions. Hence our being here."

"Why not the headmaster, I mean, why won't he draw the wrong conclusions?"

"I informed him of events - giving no names of course. I suspect he had drawn his own inferences from Potter's changing behaviour, but we have not discussed the matter further. He saw no reason to inform anyone else as he felt your wishes should be respected, and because you seemed content to talk it out with me."

It seemed relief was becoming the predominant emotion in Hermione's mind as she listened to the barrage of information.

"I don't want to insult you by asking this, but am I correct in assuming that Potter is the father? (Another nod.) Then I have to ask how this happened. You told me . . ."

Seeing her open her mouth, Severus swiftly ceded control of the conversation.

"My period started on the Friday after, which was why I said I didn't need a potion."

Snape nodded, recalling he had offered to obtain some supplies of Morning-After potion for her. The potion itself took a week to brew - far too long for their purposes - so he would have had to appropriate some from the infirmary, under Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye. When Hermione had told him it was unnecessary, he had gladly dropped the point, to avoid the inevitable complications including Madame Pomfrey in the loop would cause.

"But in that book I was reading it said that if you get pregnant two or three days before you period then sometimes it's too late too stop menstruation, but you remain pregnant. Especially if you don't want to be pregnant. So I didn't think anymore about it, until I started feeling sick every morning, that I got worried. So I did a verificum charm on myself, and it's true. But I still can't believe it."

At which point she seemed to run out of steam, and lapsed back into silence. Snape took charge again, aware of the time restraints on him.

"So I presume you want this to be known to those who must know as a result of an . . . indiscretion . . . on your part and a lack of due care, rather than the truth. (Again a nod) And to leave the father undisclosed in the guise of protecting his identity (A smaller nod) Very well."

"They'll think it's yours won't they?" concern threaded through her voice.

"More than likely, yes. But Dumbledore knows the truth, so will resist pressure to fire me, and protest my innocence for me. It's not as if he's lacking in practise at either."

This raised a smile out of Hermione, at least.

Severus looked up as there was a knock on the door. "Ah, the show begins," he muttered in a mock-serious tone.

Then louder in a voice totally devoid of emotion: "Enter."

Hermione stood respectfully as the predicted three teachers did just that.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the seclusion of a deserted classroom in the North Tower, Harry Potter was preparing. To be more precise, Harry Potter's body was preparing - his mind was in free-fall, suppressed beneath Voldemort's. Under his control, Potter was running through a barrage of curses that normally even the most dedicated Dark-Arts practitioners took several years to master. It seemed that an unusual aptitude for the Dark Arts was another 'talent' transferred, or more accurately copied to Harry, that fateful night at Godric's Hollow.

The pile of rats that had dies some hideous way was slowly growing, and the squawking contents of the cage were trying desperately to escape, as slowly but surely every last one was removed and killed. These practises were becoming increasingly more useful than Snape's Dark-Arts lessons - even now he had begun teaching properly, for fear of reprisals.

This was partly because of Potter's growing skill, and partly because Voldemort was fine-tuning his control over the boy. He could now make him perform any task by projection the entirety of his astral self into Potter's body. It felt rather nice to leave the engineered shell he had created and inhabited out of necessity in favour of the young flesh and blood of a seventeen-year-old boy. A famous one at that; girls had a habit of falling willingly at his feet given the slightest signal - and it was a long time since Voldemort had had a willing partner.

The only drawback was that Potter's body had to learn to perform the task that Voldemort's mind requested of it. The psychic connection between the two did not yet guarantee that 'mind over matter' would prevail, and Voldemort had learnt not to expect this newly-acquired body to perform especially complex tasks on the first time of asking.

Hence this practise.

And so, Voldemort in Potter's body continued his variations on the ways to kill rats (instead of people) and the flows of maniacal delight and raw power that would normally have alerted Snape to his presence, went undetected, so close was his concentration on the situation infolding in his office.

* * *

Many floors down, Albus Dumbledore was motioning for Hermione to seat herself once again. She was relieved to see he had a definite twinkle in his eye, as he said;

"My dear, thanks to Madame Pince's excellent ears, I have been informed that there is something of a . . . situation here. I'm sure you and Professor Snape are well on the way to working something out -"

Hermione noticed at this Dumbledore caught Severus's eye and was rewarded with an almost imperceptible nod, and continued;

"- but if I could ask you to indulge an old man, would you start at the beginning once again?"

Hermione nodded her head and drew a breath in, taking advantage of the distraction caused as Dumbledore began to conjure up three more chairs, light the fire, and settle himself, for all the world as if she were about to launch into and entertaining tale. A glance at Severus confirmed that was exactly what she should do, though the grim set of his face told her he expected it to be anything but entertaining.

"Well." It seemed like a safe opening, "I don't suppose you need any details on how I got pregnant . . . so all we were talking about was how I was going to finish my schooling, and we were waiting for you anyway."

There - she had done it. Passed the whole deal of as inconsequential. Now all that remained was to see if the two women bought it, and if Dumbledore was going to let her get away with it.

In fact, the casual way she trotted it out produced and explosion from the other two women present. Madame Pomfrey edged in with,

"Knowing the father's name is not a detail!" just before Professor McGonagall exclaimed,

"You can't possibly be thinking of keeping it?!"

Seeing Hermione regarding both of the women in shock, Dumbledore neatly filled the silence.

"As to the matter of the father, I believe in assuming that I already know the young man's identity?"

Both Severus and Hermione answered in tandem, both with a simple yes.

The headmaster turned to Severus and asked,

"Is it the individual we spoke of recently?"

Severus affirmed this with a nod.

"I see." Turning back from facing Severus to face Hermione again: "The choice as to whether you carry this pregnancy to term is entirely yours. How far along are you?"

"About nine weeks."

Dumbledore nodded.

"So . . . that puts your due date some time in June - a little close to the NEWTs, as I'm sure you already noticed. Well then, that leaves us the option of you taking your exams early or late. Late would probably mean repeating your final year and graduating with the current sixth year - sleepless nights are not conductive to study.

"Early should be possible some time in April - I have no doubt that you could be ready for then with a little extra work, should you chose that option. Minerva?"

"Yes I suppose that could be organised."

"Good, good. Severus?"

"Miss Granger's potions ability has been up to standard since her fifth year." The gruff tone did little to disguise the softening of his face when he saw Hermione smile.

"Excellent. Now my dear, we shall stop talking about you and leave you to your discussion with Professor Snape. I'd like you to come to my office when you've made a decision. The password is 'raspberry ripple'."

With which words he stood to leave, nodded to Severus, and departed, leaving Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey no choice but to follow him, and Hermione and Severus alone again.

As she left, Professor McGonagall turned and said,

"Miss Granger, should you need anyone . . . else . . . to talk to, you know where to find me."

Her tone was conciliatory, but her face looked if anything, disapproving.

She obviously remembered the start of the unusual Snape/Granger association had been about nine weeks ago, and this twinned with Dumbledore's question to Snape over the father's identity, had given her the impression she was leaving the two parents alone to discuss the future of their child.

In a way she was right. Severus knew that Hermione would need support over the coming months that she could not expect to get from the father. And no doubt that should he allow it, Hermione would look to him to fill the void. Now that he thought of it, the prospect was not unpleasant, but for the time being he held his peace.

This was Hermione's decision to make, and so it was up to her to make the first move. He waited while she studied some detail of the fireplace, hoping she knew how proud he was of her. The strength she had just shown was more that he had expected so soon - especially when he knew she was nowhere near as calm as she appeared on the surface.

"I can't just get rid of it. I can't. Whatever happened, it's not the baby's fault."

Severus merely nodded, careful to keep his face totally neutral.

"This is about you as well, not just your baby. Are you sure that's what you want? I'm not trying to sway you either way, but I want to make sure you've considered everything. Minerva's and Poppy's reactions are the kind you're most likely to encounter. They both think that I am the father, and that this will ruin your life."

Again the hurt eyes stared into his.

"Is this about you keeping your job?" A level tone of voice, but anger and tears battling inside of her to be let out first.

Realising his mistake, Severus moved swiftly round the desk and positioned himself so that he was kneeling at the corner of her chair, looking up at her face.

"No, Hermione, it's not. Please believe me when I say that I want only what's best for you.

"To the wizarding world I am a Death-Eater who lied to save his own skin, cleverly fooling Dumbledore and the Ministry. Or worse yet I'm one of his pet projects, like Lupin, that he takes on to prove what a great man he is, seeing through the exterior to the true potential within.

"I'm hated or pitied. I don't care if the world proclaims me a bastard who has taken advantage of a naïve student and forced her to have his child.

"But I care about it if you are going to be concerned by it. Because while they're all saying it about me, they'll be talking about you. The brush they use to paint my name blacker than it already is will be used to paint you the victim; to be pitied, protected, shielded, but damaged in some way.

"Whatever you decide, I will support you, I swear, all I need to know is that you've made an informed choice. I'll even marry you, if you could bear it; Merlin knows I love you -"

Hermione gasped, and looked at him, as he knelt there, his mouth slightly agape in shock at what had just slipped out of his mouth. That's where letting go of your emotions and talking from the heart lands you, Severus, he thought.

Ever so slowly, Hermione seemed to thaw, and moved her hands to cup his upturned face, stroking one prominent cheekbone with her thumb.

"Do you?" she asked in a bare whisper.

"Yes. I love you." He managed to croak out. He lifted himself up so that their faces were almost level, and Hermione knew that if she leaned forward, he would kiss her.

A good part of her wanted to do just that, to embrace him and tell him how much she needed him and loved him, how much it would mean to her if she was no longer alone. But the other part of her, that made her take her wand into the shower (despite the sparks it caused) was screaming that one kiss, just one kiss, was the reason she was here at all, not laughing with her friends on a trip to Hogsmeade.

In her indecision she sat frozen once more, until she felt Severus taking her hands in his and removing them from his face, kissing the back of her right hand and then placing it in her lap. He repeated the gesture with her left hand, this time pressing the palm to his lips and kissing gently, and then on down her fingers, before carefully moving her hand to join the other in her lap. Finally he stood and moved away, leaving Hermione with a tingling sensation spreading up her arms, and a sudden feeling of loss.

Repositioning himself behind the desk he considered her for a moment, then;

"It's okay, I understand, really."

A pause, where he seemed to be battling some inner demons, before he opened his mouth again,

"Just tell me, is it me, or men in general?"

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek unnoticed. Unnoticed by Hermione, at least. "If I could . . . if I wasn't so . . . I mean . . . it would be you, Severus, if it was anyone. But I can't, not yet."

His face was carefully neutral again, but she knew him well enough to see the hurt that was lurking behind his eyes.

"I do trust you, you know."

At this he smirked slightly, but she continued anyway, to tell him the intimate details of the attack that she had never been able to share with anyone else.

Not because she wanted to prove herself, but because she wanted to. Because she finally felt that she could, and that doing so would release some of the hurt trapped within her.

* * *

After Hermione finished, not on waking alone in the tower, but on encountering him in the corridor during her frantic bid for escape, Severus held a moment's silence, mainly out of respect for the trust that she had just placed in him. Eventually he felt the need to drag the conversation back to the present day.

"There's nothing else I can say except that you're one of the bravest people I've ever met.

"But that doesn't change the fact that you have a hugely important decision to make. At the risk of seeming insensitive, it is one you need to make alone. And soon. Discretion has never been one of Madame Pince's virtues - after all she is by profession a distributor of information. Fairly soon the staff will know, and if we are to contain this knowledge to them, the headmaster must have answers for them, to cut down idle speculation.

"I'm sorry but that's the way it is."

"Do I smell again?" Half-joking, half covering up a much deeper wound and fear of rejection.

"No, your scent is wonderful. And you misunderstand me - I'm not sending you away - just telling you to rely on your own intuition in making this decision. You can do that wherever you feel comfortable."

Being her teacher right now seemed less complicated than trying to be her friend, or maybe more, for the moment.

"Can I go and sort through some more of your boxes? It helps me think."

"Certainly, although I think that all that's left is old clothes and books - there's probably enough space to transfigure in bed, if you're feeling creative."

He stopped, correctly interpreting the reason for the closed, tight look that had come over Hermione's face.

"No - Merlin, no - I didn't mean for anything like that. I just thought that if you will insist on calling it the bedroom, it should have a bed now there's room for one. I apologise. That was tactless."

She gave him a slight nod, relaxing.

"Anyway, go on, you know all the passwords by now. I'll stay here (he indicated a stack of papers) I have all this marking to complete . . ." He sighed somewhat theatrically, then shrugged.

For her part Hermione nodded again - words still seemed to be mostly deserting her and in so doing, turning her into a nodding dog - and unlocked his rooms. Although her faith in his restraint and respect for her was not the issue, she was secretly glad she was entering alone.

Severus, for his part turned to the pile of papers, and began to scrawl copious insults on them in red ink; but it was a task he was not destined to finish.

Before too long had passed, the Dark Mark on his left arm burnt black.

* * *

Of this, though, Hermione remained blissfully ignorant as she sorted through boxes with half her mind and fretted over the possible roads that lay ahead of her. Although she felt in her heart that she wanted this child, her baby, she was having trouble making her head follow her heart. Intellectually it seemed much safer to abort the pregnancy and finish her schooling and head towards a normal life.

But no, there was no chance of a normal life. Her outlook on the world had changed irrevocably and she had altered with it. She would never again inhabit that safe, cosseted ignorance the majority of the world seemed to enjoy, where bad things only happened to other people. She had lost her innocence in every sense of the world since that night.

Not to mention that she was ready to begin developing a working plan to destroy Voldemort and his power - for good this time. In a matter of months she was likely to be one half of the duo that killed Voldemort, or dead in the effort.

'Normal' seemed to be the one option she no longer had. And getting rid of her child would not change that fact.

So that was one decision done with - and she certainly was not going to graduate a year late, when she had the chance to take her NEWTs, and be away from Hogwarts and the intense scrutiny she would find there when her baby was born.

Not to mention that having to repeat a year was one of her worse fears.

Now she was just left with the more serious issue of what to do about - or how to include in her life - Severus. She had always imagined that it would be up to her to make the first move; that the issues of his professorship, her unwillingness with regard to intimacy, and his twin beliefs that he could never deserve her and that no-one could ever love him, would form a barrier to large for him to overcome.

Yet he had. He had confessed his love for her, and offered to marry her, should she find the burden of raising and illegitimate child too great. That in itself would have told her that he loved her, had he said nothing else. But it was still nice to hear it said out loud. It was a very strange situation.

Though - when she considered it - it was not all that strange. They had both been very physical in their contact with eachother; Hermione had soothed Severus as best as she could, given as much of herself to him as he needed. She had cradled his body against hers on more than one occasion, safe in the knowledge that he was too aching and battered to turn the situation into something it was not. And on these instances she had taken solace in knowing that he needed her. On her part, Hermione had been willing to let him embrace her when she was in need of his support, or hold her when she cried, and was grateful that he did that for her.

Besides that, he must know she loved him - he must be able to feel the emotions coming off her every time she saw him. So maybe there was not as much of a barrier between them as she let herself believe. More than that she had realised how much he needed her, even when he wasn't injured. The real wounds were from a lifetime of exclusion, and her acceptance was a lifeline to him.

Yet none of this meant that she had to allow the child to be written of as his - her parents had brought her up to be liberal-minded enough to know that being a single mother was not a sin. And she was still not sure that Severus wanted to live - or was just marking time as best he could until he could escape from life. Somehow, a gut feeling perhaps, she felt that the answer lay somewhere in the remaining boxes, so she continued to sort.

As he had said, it was mainly old clothes and test books from his Hogwarts days (rather out of date in the twenty years since he had been a student), but tucked away in a hideous brown jumper that had seen better days, she found a small package wrapped in paper. Untying the string allowed the paper to come loose revealing a velvet-covered box, and the paper to be a letter written on old parchment.

Being the kind on person that generally read instructions provided before experimenting wildly, Hermione picked up the letter.

Dear Severus, Grandson [the letter read]

I am aware that your father, Lucas, had forbidden all contact with you, but somehow I doubt that you will expose my indiscretion. I have watched my son estrange both his children in his relentless pursuit of everything he thinks he should have, rather than paying attention to what he already has.

Once could be considered unfortunate, but twice makes it definitely his fault. Well, as much his fault as yours. I know you are not without blame in this matter.

When your father disowned you he tried to stop the allowance you received from your grandfather - unsuccessfully, due in no small amount to my insistence that it belonged to you, and had nothing to do with him. Of course, I know and approve of what you do with the money.

That is what convinces me that whatever your past mistakes, they were mistakes and not an expression of your true character. You are still my flesh and blood, and what you have done since realising the error of your ways, makes me proud of that fact.

Severus, I am growing old, and will not be able to leave you anything in my will. In fact I am leaving it all to a friend, Mrs Stzyer, with strict instructions that you will always be shown hospitality there. If I leave it to my son, he will only want more, and this way the next heir in line may reap some benefit.

Yet there is one thing I would like to pass on to you - the Snape family wedding rings. Traditionally they would be passed on to the next in line to replace their existing rings, but I think you will make better use of them, and they will help you reclaim what is rightfully yours, when the time comes. Besides, it is too long since they have actually been used to wed a couple, as I believe they should.

I am sure you already know the legend - but I will set it down here for the record. The two rings are platinum and enchanted anaqua. The two metals are woven together in Celtic designs of eternity. The anaqua appears silver when not worn, but changes colour when worn.

What the colour means is open to the interpretation of the wearer - if it has any true meaning at all. You should place the ring on your finger and declare you name and paternal lineage for four generations (when you have finished reading, grandson) and the anaqua will take its colour, and the ring will be bound to you until death.

Your bride should hold the other ring in her left hand and recite her name and four generations of her maternal lineage, sometime before marriage. The anaqua will glow its colour, but that will not become permanent until you place it on her finger, and exchange vows, in a wedding ceremony.

Just a final note, if the woman's love is not true, the ring will not glow. I assume it was invented to root out the gold-diggers! In my opinion, the closer the colour match, the better. I was red, your grandfather was grey, and I don't need to remind you how we were.

Anyway, these ramblings have made me tired, so I will send you all my love and blessings.

Yours Always,

Morgana Snape

Hermione held the ring box in her hands looking at it for a while, fighting a war in her head. On the one hand it was not her place to interfere in what was not hers, and reading the letter had been an intrusion. All the while she had be organising his possessions she had merely been ordering, sorting, studying and listening to what he wanted to tell her. Opening the ring box would be crossing a line, abusing the trust he had place in her, and that was something she couldn't bear to loose.

On the other hand she had what amounted to a marriage proposal, and this way she would know.

It was always best to know. She opened the lid.

The larger of the two rings looked to have a mother of pear metal interwoven with the platinum. On closer examination the anaqua was much more solid that the shell-like texture of nacre, but it was a diaphanous white that glinted with other colours in the light. The most prominent was a deep maroon that made her think of many things, none of them bad.

Timidly, Hermione took the smaller of the two rings between her thumb and forefinger, and removed it from the case. Placing it in her left hand, she curled her fingers around it and took a deep breath.

Exhaling, she stated, "My name is Hermione Granger, daughter of Kathryn Granger, daughter of Elizabeth Coulson, daughter of Victoria Lawson, daughter of Anabella Mulgrew."

A bright scarlet light glowed through her fingers. However when she tentatively opened her fist the anaqua was glowing white, though close to the colour was not entirely pure as it was flecked with scarlet and gold - her house colours.

The ring was telling her what she should do - for if she had followed her head she would have allows the sorting hat to put her in Ravenclaw, where she would have been properly appreciated, but her heart had led her to Gryffindor. And the ring saw she was a true Gryffindor after all - and saying to follow her heart once again.

Slowly a plan began to form in her mind, ruthless enough for any Slytherin to be proud of, as she returned the ring to its casing and repackaged it in paper. She returned the package to the folds of the jumper and resealed the whole cardboard box, because there was still one last detail to check before she put her plan into action.

Having arrived upon a decision, she was once again galvanised in to action, following a pattern of behaviour that had begun long ago, but had really set in in the past months. Exiting into Severus's office she found it empty, the marking half-completed, and the fire burning low in the grate.

Concluding that he must not have wanted to wait, of pressure her should she emerge without a decision, Hermione headed up towards the headmaster's office as requested, feeling more cheerful than she had in several days.

* * *

Severus Snape however was feeling worse that he had done in months.

He had been summoned to a Dark Revel. Since Voldemort's change of strategy, Snape had not been included in any of these gatherings. Yet tonight it appeared he was not to be spared. The theme for the evening seemed to be brown-haired virgins, suffering violently in their final hours.

Beneath the surface however, the theme was definitely 'Ways to Make Severus Snape Suffer'. After his long reprieve, being forced to participate in this kind of depravity seemed even more vile than he recalled, which was most likely the point.

And every single one of them reminded him of Hermione, the young woman to whom he had so recently professed his love, and then been forced to abandon when he should have been able to wait. That the event was a reminder of Voldemort's power over him was a given.

Still, he reflected, it was probably for the best. Standing here, surrounded by what were his own kind, he saw how wrong it was to take advantage of her misfortune as he had tried to. To trap her into a commitment at this early age, to halt the rise of a bright young star by association with him, just because she made him feel less vulnerable and alone, was nothing short of cruelty. In the long run she would resent him for doing it, and he didn't need to subject either of them to the anguish that would cause. But now, there was nothing to do but wait and hope she had the sense to see it for herself. The only way he could make the situation worse was to retract his offer.

"Snape." The curt tone snapped him out of his reverie, and he turned away from the leering mass to follow Lucius Malfoy out of the room. Through a series of passages and doorways, Severus was conducted to Voldemort himself, once again lounging on his ornate throne.

"Ah, Severus, at last. I trust dragging yourself from the entertainment was not too hard."

"Not at all, my Lord."

"Yes, yes, it always was work before pleasure with you."

Voldemort paused, obviously not expecting anyone to fill the silence.

"So," he continues, "I heard an interesting fact today. That mudblood Potter . . . consorts with . . . is pregnant. Is this correct?"

"Yes my Lord." Privately he pleaded with Hermione for her forgiveness.

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed. I have a special . . . interest . . . in the brat. I've always wanted an heir. You will bring it to me when it is born, Severus."

"Yes, my Lord. But it may be difficult."

"Difficult?" Voldemort's voice had become dangerously calm. "I do not want to hear of difficulties. How difficult is it to stage an attack in which the whore dies and the brat finds it way to me? Or is the problem your conscience? Well, answer."

"Not at all, my Lord. I apologise."

"Good, you may go. I expect you to continue Potter's lesson. You have been doing well . . . of late."

Severus turned and headed for the door, marvelling that he had escaped unscathed. It must be a first.

Severus turned, his stomach tight with apprehension.

"Crucio."

For a moment the world exploded in blinding flashes of light, then the pain set in. After what seemed like hours, everything went dark.

When he awoke he had been dumped unceremoniously in front of the Hogwart's gates. And better yet, it was raining.