Darkness and Light 03: If We Survive

Chapter Six: Sad Friends

The sky was darkening over Hogsmeade, and the streets lay empty and silent beneath their dusting of snow. Even without an invisibility cloak to protect her, Maud's Apparation in the alley beside the Three Broomsticks would probably have gone unnoticed. Still, she did not take so much as a step before she had put a Concealment Charm on her boot-soles, and tested them carefully to make sure they would leave no footprints.

It was a long, cold, nerve-wracking walk out of the village, past the railway station and around the lake. An icy wind whistled around her, its chill fingers tugging her cloak aside, slipping even between the layers of her robes. The road was stony and uneven, and more than once her feet nearly slipped out from under her, making her grip convulsively at the two small bottles fastened to her belt. Maud was shivering with apprehension as much as cold by the time she reached the gates of Hogwarts -- and found them shut.

Not only that, they were locked. The wrought-iron lattice with its elegant tangle of ornamentation might have been a single piece of metal barring her path: there seemed to be no visible latch on the gates, or even a seam between them. And there could be no question of going around, either -- the towering stone columns on either side, with their matching statuettes of winged boars, were just as daunting an obstacle.

Maud stepped back, thinking hard. The flasks of Exploding Extract she carried would almost certainly be enough to blow the gates open. But that would be unsubtle, to say the least; and she might yet need those bottles for her own protection. She could, of course, levitate herself, and float over the gates; or make herself insubstantial, and walk through them; or shrink herself, and crawl under them. But could it really be that easy? She might just end up setting off an alarm, or walking into some kind of trap.

On the other hand, her uncle knew as much about Hogwarts as anyone, and he had never said that getting to the castle would be impossible -- only that it might be dangerous. Besides, where Hogwarts was concerned, Maud was neither a stranger nor an enemy: she'd been a student here herself only a few months ago, and her intentions were entirely beneficent. Surely that must count for something?

Well, there was only one way to find out. Maud stretched out her hand, and touched the gates.

For one awful moment, nothing happened. Then, softly and silently as an exhaled breath, the gates parted down the middle and swung open. The road lay bare before her, a deep-rutted track glittering with frost. Maud squared her shoulders, pulled the invisibility cloak closer about her, and began trudging up the hill to Hogwarts.

* * *

By the time she reached the school's front entrance, Maud's teeth were chattering. Her legs trembled with exertion after the steep twenty-minute climb, and her headache had returned in full force. For the first time she found herself thinking, What am I doing here? It was a mad risk she had taken in coming to Hogwarts, and Snape might very well be angry when he saw her -- after all, if she were discovered, it could seriously endanger them both.

The school's front doors -- two massive slabs of iron-bound oak -- stood before her. For a moment she looked up at them wearily, struggling with the temptation to turn back. But then she remembered that Dumbledore was dead, and nothing would ever be the same again; that one harsh and devastating fact had brought her here, and it drove her forward now. She drew a deep breath, tugged one of the doors open a crack, and slipped in.

The castle was cool and quiet, the corridors dimly lit. There appeared to be no one about, which made sense; the evening meal would be over by now, and the students dispatched to their common rooms for the night. Maud made her way soundlessly across the Entrance Hall and down the staircase toward the dungeons. She was halfway along the corridor, one flickering shadow in a host of shadows, when --

"-- good thing someone has a sense of perspective around here," came a voice unexpectedly from ahead of her. Maud jumped and flattened herself against the wall just in time to see Draco Malfoy sweep around the corner, with Crabbe and Goyle shambling in his wake.

Draco had grown since she'd last seen him, and the sharp, clean lines of his face were more pronounced; his hair shone silver in the torchlight, and his pale eyes were narrowed, making him seem more like a man than a boy. The sneering tone in his voice, however, had not altered a whit. "So Dumbledore's gone. So what? Good riddance, I say. You won't see me shedding any tears over him. If you ask me, the Dark Lord did us all a favour: it's high time we had a change of leadership in this place."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded in unison.

"Of course, McGonagall's just as useless. Did you see her blubbering into her handkerchief when Snape told us what had happened?" His lip curled. "Pathetic. And when the Gryffindors all started whimpering and snivelling along with her.... No wonder Snape looked like he wanted to throw up on the lot of them. I know I nearly did."

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, turned to face the blank wall. "Hand of Glory," he said in a bored voice, and the entrance to the Slytherin common room yawned open. Stepping through, his cronies following close behind him, he resumed his monologue: "Now Snape would make a decent Headmaster -- but then, I've been saying that all along..."

The door shut, cutting off his words and leaving the corridor empty once more. Maud let her breath out, straightened up and continued walking, with Draco's disdainful words still echoing in her mind: Snape looked like he wanted to throw up...

When she paused to look into the Potions classroom, the door to Snape's office was ajar, throwing a wan light into the darkness beyond. Quietly she made her way up the aisle between the desks, put her eye to the crack of the door, and looked in.

Severus sat at his desk, leaning back in the chair with one long leg thrown over the other. A quill twirled slowly between his fingers, and a half-finished page lay in front of him, but he paid them no attention. His other hand rested on his knee, loosely cupping some small object, but he was not looking at that, either. He was gazing into the fire.

In the half-light his eyes were dark hollows, and the corners of his mouth pulled downward; every now and then he passed a hand over his forehead as though it pained him, and she saw him swallow convulsively. His hair hung lank about his shoulders, and the unhealthy pallor of his skin was more pronounced than ever. Maud ached to go to him, but she held herself back, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place. She would simply have to wait until he retired to a more private location.

For several minutes Snape sat motionless, staring at the flames. Then he drew a long, deliberate breath, and his fingers tightened around the object he held. His mouth twisted, and he pushed himself out of his chair in one fluid, impatient movement, heading for the door -- and Maud.

She barely had time to jump out of the way before he flung the door open and stalked out into the darkness, his black robes whirling around him. Maud waited until he was a good ten feet ahead of her; then she drew the invisibility cloak closer about her and followed, moving as quietly as she could.

His whole body stiff with tension, Snape strode down the hall to another door, which he unlocked with a curtly muttered word and a tap of his wand. It swung open, and he walked through. Maud counted three heartbeats, to give him a chance to get clear of the doorway; then she abandoned stealth for speed, and darted in after him.

The door shut behind them, and the latch clicked home. Maud glanced around at the firelit, sparely furnished room beyond, and recognised it immediately: Snape's bedchamber. She had been here only once before, and that was nearly a year ago, but it did not seem to have changed an iota since.

She had barely enough time to finish the thought before Snape whipped around, eyes blazing, and made a sudden snatch at the air in front of her face. Instinctively she jerked away from him, overbalanced, and nearly fell, her boots scraping against the stone as she fought to regain her footing. Snape's jaw clenched, a vein on his temple throbbing to the surface; he glared at the place where Maud had been standing, and a single word hissed from his throat:

Maud caught her breath, and choked. As Snape stalked forward, features contorted with fury, she backed away, scarcely knowing where she was going. Her hip knocked against a small table -- it began to topple -- she whirled instinctively to catch it -- and in that instant Severus seized her.

His hands locked around her wrists, his grip relentless, unbreakable; the face that leaned close to hers was twisted with anger beneath a glimmering sheen of sweat. He spat, "I warned you to leave me alone, boy. But you never, ever listen to me -- always so damnably sure of yourself -- and to come spying on me with that bloody invisibility cloak, tonight, of all nights -- "

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle; she tried to free her hands, but he was too strong for her. His dark, unfocused gaze narrowed, and his grip loosened a little, but still he did not let go.

"Not even Black would have had the gall to do what you've just done, Potter," he said in a tight voice. "What -- will -- it -- take --" He shook her for emphasis -- "to stop you sticking your nose into my private business? What do I have to do to make you afraid of me?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper: "Because you should be afraid, boy. Especially tonight."

His eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke, cold and unfathomable and black as sin, and looking into them Maud was indeed afraid -- but not for herself. Because in their depths she saw the jagged edges of his pain, his misery, and it pierced her to the heart. In that moment she found her voice, gasped out:

His jaw went slack with astonishment, and he dropped her wrists. Hastily Maud lifted her hands to the catch at her throat, fumbled it open, and let the invisibility cloak slide to the floor at her feet.

Severus took -- or rather staggered -- a step back, his face drained of colour. He stared at her for a long moment, mingled shock and anger and fear and yearning naked in his gaze; then he squeezed his eyes shut and his face hardened again. "Get out," he said. "Don't look at me, don't touch me, just go. Now."

She had expected to find his emotions raw; but the desperation in his voice was unlike anything she had heard before. Still, now that she was facing him at last, she found a strange calmness come over her. "Not this time," she said quietly. "You need me."

He dropped his hands, clenched them at his sides. "What I need," he said with sudden savagery, "is to be left alone. You should never have come here."

But he did not look at her as he spoke, and the tremor in his voice belied his words. Maud watched him a moment in silence; then she walked over and picked up the small object that had fallen from his hand when he made his first attempt to catch her.

It was Athena.

Gently she set the little owl on the mantelpiece, then stooped to stir the fire and hook a cauldron over the blaze. While Severus stood rigid and unmoving, staring into the darkness, she began adding ingredients: chamomile, a hint of valerian, powdered moth wings, hops, cobwebs, the tiniest amount of wild lettuce...

She stirred the brew slowly until it began to simmer and give off curls of steam. Then she drew Snape's high-backed armchair closer to the fire, and pulled up another chair beside it. Returning to the cauldron, she filled two cups with the relaxing tea and set them on the mantelpiece to cool a little. Finally she walked back to Snape, who had not moved the whole time, and said, "Come and sit down."

He closed his eyes. "Maud--"

"Don't argue. Just come."

A sigh escaped him, and his shoulders slumped. Maud went back to the fireplace to get the tea, and when she turned around again Snape was sitting in the armchair, staring bleakly at the flames. She handed him a mug, then sat down beside him and took a sip of her concoction. It was not exactly pleasant, but it was drinkable, and she could feel the tension in her muscles ease a little as its warmth coursed through her.

For some time they sat there, side by side, not speaking or even looking at each other. Then Severus said in a low voice:

"I owe you an apology."

She stirred, and blinked. "It's all right."

"No, it is not. I hurt you."

"Only a little. I'm fine now." She hesitated. "I... gather you had a bit of a problem with Harry today."

His lean hands tightened around the cup he held. "You could say that, yes."

Maud said nothing, waiting him out. When he broke the silence again, his voice was rough: "He holds me responsible for Dumbledore's death. And I have neither the power nor the inclination to persuade him otherwise. If the Dark Lord's most hated enemy is convinced..."

"You think he really believes that?"

He gave a short laugh. "I don't have to think anything. He said it to my face. And why not? I showed no grief when I came back and told the others what I had seen. I was cold, I was pitiless, I snapped at the students who wept and shouted down the ones who raged at me. I even allowed myself to show a flash of exultation in a seemingly unguarded moment." His mouth twisted into a self-loathing sneer. "Every inch the Death Eater -- it was perhaps my greatest performance."

Maud looked down at her cup. "I see."

"Mercy, and sympathy, I left to Minerva. She is Head of Hogwarts now." He paused, his face grey and suddenly old, added, "For the time being," and tossed back the last of his tea as though trying to drink himself into oblivion.

"Time being?"

"A short time being, if the Dark Lord has anything to do with it. I am now in the unenviable position of having to simultaneously support Minerva and subtly undermine her authority at every turn, without tipping my hand to either side." He raised his empty cup to her in a cynical mockery of a toast. "At last, a real challenge. Rejoice with me."

"Does she know... what you may have to do?"

He shook his head. "She knows me for a spy in the Dark Lord's camp, but more than that Dumbledore never told her. The plans we made, our hopes and fears for the future of Hogwarts, were known only to him... and me."

"Then..." Maud hesitated. "She could fire you, if she doubted your loyalties."

"She will not. That, too, we anticipated. I have allowed myself to show somewhat more humanity in Professor McGonagall's presence than I ever have to the students; she sees me as strict and at times excessively demanding of my pupils, but she also trusts that Dumbledore was not deceived in hiring me. I am Deputy Headmaster now."

"Draco thinks you should be Headmaster."

"So does his father -- which is more to the point." He looked down at his cup. "Lucius Malfoy may have been exposed as a Death Eater, but he still wields considerable influence over the Board of Governors. If Minerva proves too much of an obstacle to the Dark Lord's ambitions for Hogwarts, she will, I have no doubt, find herself shunted aside. But with me here to intercede, that will be the worst that happens to her." He gave a wan flicker of a smile. "And so the chess match continues. Even in death, Dumbledore played like a master."

He still had not told her how Dumbledore died, or why; but Maud knew better than to ask. Instead she rose to her feet, said, "More tea?" and held out her hand for his cup. Silently he gave it to her, and she refilled it along with her own, then returned and sat down again with one leg folded beneath her.

"Muriel Groggins has been taken into custody," she said.

Snape looked surprised. "What for?"

"Conspiracy with a Death Eater and attempted murder of a Ministry of Magic representative." Maud paused, took a sip of her tea, and went on calmly, "She tried to have me Kissed by a Dementor at the League Cup semi-final today."

"What?" Now his attention was entirely on her, and for the moment his own troubles were forgotten. "You were there? But you don't -- Quidditch isn't --"

You're cute when you're incoherent, teased Imogen's voice in her mind, with disturbing irreverence. Maud quashed the thought, saying simply, "She made sure that I'd be there," and went on to relate the whole story.

When she had finished, Snape was quiet for a moment. At last he said, "I never met Godfrey Bigelow, either as a student or as a Death Eater. And even had I known him, I would not have guessed he was Muriel's cousin." His face hardened. "But I will know him now."

"Wait, I forgot one more thing." Maud swallowed her tea. "Imogen's got a new joke you might appreciate -- Why did the Death Eaters strike at the League Cup semi-final?"

"For the sake of the joke, I'll pretend I don't know. Why?"

"Because," said Maud, "Lucius Malfoy had a bet on the final."

Snape winced.

"Sorry."

"No," he said flatly. "It's just that -- absurd as it may sound, that answer holds more than a grain of truth." He grimaced. "Do you know what I loathe most about my fellow Death Eaters? It isn't the depth of the evil, it's the incredible pettiness of it. The only one capable of seeing things from a greater perspective is the Dark Lord himself -- and he is completely mad."

"Do you think so?"

"If I had any doubt, what I saw today would have settled it. The look on his face when he --" He stopped, drew a sharp breath, and his eyes squeezed shut; for a moment Maud saw something glitter in the darkness of his lashes.

She put her cup down carefully on the floor and reached over to lay a hand on his arm. "It's all right," she said. "You don't have to."

Severus bowed his head. She could feel the tension in him, the muscles pulled tight as wire; he was fighting his grief with every ounce of strength and will he possessed. Two cups of relaxing brew should have taken the edge off the stress he was feeling, but it could not break down his rigid self-control. And yet he needed so very much to let go... Maud moved her hand gently up and down his arm; he gave a little sigh, barely audible, and then she realised what she could do.

"Come," she said, tugging his arm. "Come and sit in this chair, instead."

"Why?"

"You're tense. I'm going to give you a massage." She stood up, turned the chair around so that the back was to the fire. "Here."

Reluctantly, his expression suspicious but his eyes glinting with guarded fascination, he rose, walked over and sat as she instructed him, straddling the chair with his arms folded across the back. Maud plucked a loose thread from her sleeve, transfigured it into a cord, and used it to tie his hair aside, baring his neck to her ministrations; then she flexed her fingers, laid her hands firmly on his shoulders, and set to work.

Ideally he should be lying down, of course; and it would be a good deal easier if he took off his robes. But she had no doubt that he would have refused had she suggested either, so she determined to do the best she could under the circumstances. Her fingers traced circles along the cords of his neck, softly at first, then harder, probing. At first she could feel his resistance, but as she continued to knead, working the muscles, the tension began to melt out of him, and his head slumped forward.

A few minutes of this, and her hands ached from the unaccustomed effort; but when she craned her neck to look at Severus's face, his slack and almost blissful expression rewarded her. She gentled her touch, her palms gliding outward across his shoulders, down his arms, and back up again. "Better?" she said.

He blinked, and opened drowsy eyes to look at her. "What did you put in that tea?" he murmured.

"Just the usual."

"Odd. That doesn't usually work for me."

Maud untied his hair, then passed her wand lightly over it, leaving it clean. "It must be the soothing effect of my presence."

He gave her a weary smile. "My asphodel," he said.

Asphodel was the key-word he had given her with which to encode her letters, and which, when he spoke it, would temporarily deactivate the Anagrammatica Charm so he could read them. She stooped and kissed the nape of his neck.

"You're welcome," she said.

Severus rested his chin on his crossed wrists, his gaze abstracted. Then he said, in a low voice devoid of emotion, "There was nothing left."

Maud walked slowly around the chair and knelt on the hearthstones in front of him, so that he had to look into her face, and not at the crackling flames. "Nothing left of what?" she said.

"After the Enemy left Hogwarts, I went out and looked at the place where Dumbledore had been standing when he died." He closed his eyes. "There was a scorched mark on the grass -- that was all. Even his rings were gone, and his glasses. If I hadn't seen it myself -- if I hadn't been watching when the Dark Lord -- blasted him --"

A single tear threaded out from under the corner of one eyelid, sliding down the angle of his cheekbone. Maud reached up and took his face between her hands.

"You never wanted to lose him," she said in a soft voice. "And I know you would have saved him if you could. Don't torture yourself. You have a right to grieve."

"In all my life," he whispered harshly, "only two people have ever loved me. And now one of them is dead."

Maud closed her eyes.

"I thought I was prepared -- we had even talked about it, he and I -- but deep down I never really believed --" She heard him swallow. "As soon as I learned of the Dark Lord's plan, I went to Dumbledore and told him everything I knew. I warned him -- pleaded with him -- begged him to let me take Polyjuice and go in his place --"

He broke off, pushing himself away from her, and the chair toppled to the floor with a crack. Maud looked up, startled, just in time to see Snape take two staggering steps across the floor, sway, and crumple to his knees.

She scrambled to her feet and half-threw herself at him, her arms encircling his shoulders, pulling him against her. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his hands gripped her waist fiercely, and as his shoulders heaved she felt his tears trickling over her skin.

"He loved you," she whispered, stroking his hair, rocking with him. "He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to live."

"I have no right to live." The words came thickly, punctuated by shuddering gasps. "I never did. But he wouldn't let me die. And now I have to do what he asked of me -- to look after Hogwarts -- Minerva -- Harry --"

In his wisdom Dumbledore had perceived the one thing that would keep Severus Snape from giving in to suicidal despair: his absolute, unyielding sense of duty. Not even Maud's love, by itself, could have pulled him out of the abyss; it would have been all too easy for Severus to convince himself that her grief at his loss would be temporary, and that in the end she would be happier without him. But now that Dumbledore -- with his dying breath, as it were -- had placed the future of Hogwarts into Snape's hands, he had no choice but to go on living.

And that, thought Maud, was only one aspect of the late Headmaster's plans. What other revelations lay in store?

She held Severus tightly, wordlessly, until his breathing lost its ragged quality and he was quiet again. At last he spoke, his voice hollow against her shoulder: "I never told him how much he meant to me. If there is anything good in me, anything worthy of your love, I owe it to him. Without Dumbledore I would be nothing. Less than nothing. I would have been dead years ago."

"I believe you."

"I never told you -- I was loath to admit it even to myself -- but part of my reason for detesting Potter was jealousy." He gave a shaky, cynical laugh. "As though Dumbledore's heart were too small to hold more than one person at a time. Didn't I tell you Death Eaters were petty?"

"You're not a Death Eater."

"No, of course not. I just look like one, act like one, talk like one, and have the Dark Mark permanently branded on my arm." His tone was acid, but she knew that his venom was directed at himself, not at her. "Can the Death Eater change his skin, or the Nundu his spots? I see no way out of myself, Maud. Especially now."

"I know who you are," she said softly. "Dumbledore knew, too. He believed in you. He trusted you. And in a way he brought us together, you and me -- would he have done that if he didn't believe you had a future? He knew that one day you would prove, not only to my uncle but to the rest of the wizarding world, that you were a better man than they ever dreamed." She kissed his temple, adding in a still lower voice, "And you will."

Slowly Severus lifted his head and sat back to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed and weary, but dry. In a husky voice he said, with deliberate emphasis, "The truth, Maud, all of it..."

She smiled, swallowing back her own tears. "I love you."

He leaned forward so that their foreheads met, and Maud closed her eyes. His hands gathered up the long fall of her hair, letting it slide between his fingers; then he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his mouth to hers.

They kissed gently at first, then with growing passion, and Maud felt her skin shiver, her blood begin to pound. She ought to go, she thought. She had done what she came for, it was late, it wasn't safe to stay any longer --

"Maud," he breathed, his lips drifting down to her throat, his hands splayed against the arch of her spine. "You were right. I do need you tonight, after all..."

Oh, don't do this to me, she wailed silently, even as her head tilted back and her breathing quickened, I don't have enough strength for us both...

But even as she finished the thought, she found herself pushing away from him, panting a little with effort and thwarted desire. "I'm sorry," she said. "We can't do this. You know we can't."

His eyes opened, transfixing her with the black fire of his gaze. "Can't?" he said, and pulled her back against him in one swift, powerful movement. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Severus --"

"I warned you," he murmured throatily, his mouth against her ear, hands gliding over her shoulders and down her arms, "I told you to go. You wouldn't listen. Don't tell me you had no idea that this might happen. You knew better than that from the moment you first touched me tonight..."

"You don't understand," she said faintly. Then, in a frantic rush -- his fingers had found the clasp of her robes, and she seized them before they could wander any further -- "We can't, really can't, please stop, this is not right, it's not what either of us wants, not like this, not really --"

Snape exhaled and drew back. "Remind me," he said.

"No doubt. No hesitation. Honestly. Freely. Completely." Her eyes searched his, pleading. "Do you really think that's going to happen tonight?"

His face was unreadable. "Go on."

"And besides --" She gave him a little, nervous smile. "That bed of yours does not look comfortable -- and I don't even own a half-share."

For a moment Snape's expression became closed, and she was afraid he would argue with her; but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and she realised that she had won. "Good point." He rubbed his head as though trying to clear it, then added with a touch of irony, "I'm glad one of us has some sense."

She had no idea what to say to that, so she simply held out her hand to him; he took it, and raised it to his lips.

"Until the next time," he said.

"Yes," said Maud with forced calmness, "until then." Wincing at the ache in her limbs she rose and turned away, walking over to pick up the invisibility cloak where it lay in a silver puddle on the floor. "Shall I give your regards to my uncle?"

"He knows you're here?"

"He lent me the cloak." Carefully she draped it around her shoulders, arranging it to make sure it fell straight to the floor on all sides, and clasped it at her throat.

"Ah, yes, of course." His eyes lingered on her face, apparently untroubled by her half-visibility. "And you told him you were returning tonight, no doubt; how very... foresighted of you."

"Are you disappointed in me?" she said, a little wistfully.

"Disappointed?" His brows shot up. "Not the word I would choose, no. Frustrated would be more accurate -- but for that I have to accept at least some of the blame. It is, admittedly, humiliating to realise that a mere two cups of relaxant tea and a back-rub could wreak such havoc on my self-control, but so be it." He walked forward and gently raised the hood about her face, as her uncle had done.

"Good night, then," he said. "Allow me to see you -- or rather, not see you -- to the door."

* * *

When Maud arrived back at her uncle's, weary, cold, and aching from head to toe, all the lights were out. Woodenly she cast the seventeen temporary counter-charms necessary to get through the house's magical defences, unlocked the front door with a few more whispered words and taps of her wand, and let herself in.

With cautious steps she moved down the hall and into the parlour, pulling off the invisibility cloak and folding it over her arm as she went. Alastor Moody was slumped in his armchair, his good leg stretched toward the dying embers of the fire. An empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky lay beside the chair, and a glass dangled limply from his hand.

She stood motionless a moment, feeling sorrow welling up within her, pushing its way past her lungs and into her throat; not for Severus or even her uncle, but her own grief, too long denied. Slowly she laid the cloak down atop the Auror trunk, blinking back the tears that burned her eyes, telling herself not to be foolish, she had no time for this, there was work to be done and life must go on... and then her legs folded under her and she sank to her knees on the carpet and wept, silently and wretchedly, until she could weep no more.