Darkness and Light 02: Personal Risks

Maud must have cried herself to sleep, because when she opened her eyes again the fire had burned low and a cloudless moon was shining through the window. Someone had drawn a blanket over her, and her cheek and her hands were pressed against something warm that rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm; it took her a moment of disoriented blinking before she realised that it was Snape.

Maud jerked upright, horrified by the thought that she must have been leaning on his chest for hours and he had said nothing -- had he slipped into a coma while she slept? But one look at his face reassured her. His eyes were still half-lidded, but they glittered with renewed intelligence, and as she moved they flicked to her without hesitation.

"The fractured ribs are on the left side," he said, as though he had read her thoughts. "Otherwise I would have objected. Loudly and profanely, in fact."

The skin beneath her palms was warm now, smooth and velvety. He smelled of comfrey, instead of blood, and the scrapes and cuts across his chest looked less angry. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Alive. Conscious. Both of which are a distinct improvement, and for which you have my gratitude." He paused, a strange glint in his eyes. "Although you ought to be aware that I was not joking about taking points from Slytherin."

"I know."

One dark eyebrow lifted. "No protests? No arguments?"

"No." She let her hands slide from his chest, pulled the blanket back up around his shoulders and sat back. "I broke Hogwarts rules, after all. I didn't do it lightly, but I did it nonetheless. And by now a lot of people must know I was out of the castle after hours -- if you didn't take those points away, somebody else would. So..." She gave a little shrug. "I'll just have to deal with the consequences."

"Consequences that affect you personally are one thing: consequences that affect your House are another." He narrowed his eyes. "Your fellow Slytherins will not soon forgive you for this."

It was not a pleasant thought, but even so Maud had to smile. "Would they rather I had saved their place in the house standings by leaving you to die?"

"They won't know about that."

"No," she agreed, gazing into the fire. Then, more softly, "No, they won't. But I will."

There was a long pause. Then he said, with sudden and uncharacteristic urgency, "Maud."

His voice was like honey and thunder. Startled, she looked back at him, and the intensity of his gaze took her breath away.

"What I want to know is," she said shakily before he could speak, "who loses when you break the rules?"

He accepted the interruption with a wry smile. "Touché, Miss Moody. The answer, of course, is Professor Dumbledore. Which is precisely why I don't intend to do it."

"I see," said Maud. Her throat was dry. "And that explains the incident with the feather, does it?"

He reached out, drawing a strand of hair away from her face. "That was... questionable, I admit. But it was not done without reason."

She knew, or at least thought she knew, what he meant. "If your intention was to ensure that I'd be thinking about you and waiting anxiously for your return," she said, "making me stir that potion of yours every five hours would have been more than enough. And speaking of which, I hope it wasn't anything dangerous, because I think it must have overflowed by now."

"By now," said Snape, "it will have turned into glue. Never mind the potion." His fingers drifted down to her cheek. "What is this?"

Maud had almost forgotten about the bruise. "I... had an encounter with Muriel. I..."

"You're frightened." He drew back his hand. "What have you done?"

That was it. Her self-control snapped, and the words came tumbling out. "What have you done, is more to the point! Muriel taunted me with another of her rubbishy stories about us, but this time it sounded as though she actually knew something. I thought she must have spied on us making the Dissolving Solution, that she had seen... what you did. And by the time I realised I'd been wrong, I'd already betrayed myself -- you. She threatened to report you to Umbridge, and I had to -- I used -- I know it's not really considered wrong, but I hate it--"

"You cast Obliviate on her." His voice was flat.

She nodded miserably.

"Did your uncle tell you how I feel about that spell? He would know."

"Yes." Now that she had started confessing, it was hard to stop. "He believed... he feared... that my dislike of it came from you."

Snape threw back his head and laughed. "The suspicious old dog! No wonder he was so furious."

"It's not funny," Maud protested. "Do you have any idea--" She stopped. "Furious? When?"

"When I talked to him a few hours ago," said Snape, and leaned back against the pillows.

For a moment Maud simply stared at him. Then she said, "Don't tell me he did this to you." Alastor Moody had always been kind to his niece, but in general he was not renowned for tolerance. If Snape had caught him at the wrong time, approached him in the wrong way--

"Not all of it, no. He did manage to get in a few solid hits before I was able to reason with him: but then, he had some provocation."

He paused, obviously savouring the moment, and Maud resisted the urge to strangle him. Instead, she picked up the mug from the bedside table and walked back to the cauldron to refill it. "What kind of provocation?" she asked, selecting jars and bottles from his shelf and adding more ingredients to the tea. He could use another dose by now, and hopefully it would keep him alert enough to finish telling the story. The whole story.

Snape waited until she had handed him the cup and resumed her seat by his bedside before replying. "Provocation enough. While he was out at the pub, I left a bit of rubbish just inside his front gate, which he naturally picked up on his return."

"You Portkeyed my uncle?" She was simultaneously awed and aghast. Unregistered Portkeys were not only dangerous and difficult to create -- if Snape had that skill he had probably learned it from Voldemort -- but the Ministry would have the wand of any wizard who was caught making one. And although Alastor Moody kept his house guarded by a formidable array of magical foe-detectors and protective charms, Snape's scheme would have taken him entirely by surprise: for none of Mad-Eye's precautions could warn him against someone acting without malicious intent.

He shrugged, as though it were of no particular significance. "I needed a word in private. And since his suspicions about my character and loyalties were such that he would never willingly meet with me alone, I could see no alternative. Of course, no sooner had he arrived at the location -- a comfortably remote field -- than he jumped to the conclusion that I'd been sent to kill him, and acted accordingly. Your uncle fights like the very devil, by the way."

"I know," said Maud, with a certain grim satisfaction.

"We spent some time lighting up the countryside, while he cast aspersions on my intelligence, my ancestry, and my personal habits. However, eventually it dawned on him that I was not returning fire. It took some time for him to calm down, but at last he agreed to stop hurling jinxes about and listen to what I had to say."

"Which was?"

Snape frowned down at the tea he'd been drinking, as though something about it perplexed him. "Several things," he said at last. "For one, I gave him some information about current Death Eater plans and activities that I knew would interest him, and which he could confirm using his own sources. Your uncle may have retired in name, but he clearly has no intention of sitting on the sidelines." For a moment, he sounded almost appreciative. Then his voice resumed its old sardonic tone and he went on, "I expect him to go out one day in a blaze of peg-legged glory, no doubt taking several blocks' worth of architecture with him.

"At any rate, I then appealed to his vanity by asking him to help me put on a little show for the benefit of my fellow Death Eaters, some of whom did not seem wholly convinced of my allegiance to the Dark Lord. I suggested, obliquely, that you would be safer if my loyalties were not in question, and after expressing his opinion of me in even more colourful and inventive language, he agreed.

"We discussed a few other matters, and seemed to be making progress, when who should appear but Parnaby, one of the Death Eaters I'd been talking about. He'd been following me on the sly ever since I ran into him in Knockturn Alley that morning, no doubt hoping I'd do something traitorous so he could report me. Unfortunately, he chose just that time to decide that I really was on the Dark Lord's side after all, commended me for my cleverness in capturing the notorious Mad-Eye Moody, and begged me for the honour of killing him."

Maud's hands flew to her mouth.

"I was just about to explain that I thought the Dark Lord would enjoy having that pleasure for himself, but your uncle pre-empted me by blasting us both with a particularly inconvenient hex and limping off. Parnaby recovered before I did: he gave chase, and the two of them were going at it hammer and tongs when I was forced to intervene."

He paused then, his gaze darkening. "Of course, after that Parnaby didn't take long to realise whose side I was on. And knowing he was outnumbered, he fought with everything he had, desperate to take at least one of us with him. He... almost succeeded."

"Your head..." Maud's voice was a whisper. "He did that?"

Snape gave a short laugh. "He lobbed a rock at me while I was trying to dodge one of his hexes. Not very sophisticated, but certainly effective." He raised a hand toward his temple, as though to touch the wound; then seemed to think better of it and let it drop. "I should have remembered he'd been a Chaser when he was at Hogwarts, but I was... somewhat distracted at the time."

"So in the end..." She cleared her throat. "Parnaby was captured?"

"Oh, no." His face was grim. "Killed."

Maud's fingers curled into her palm. Part of her wanted to ask who had done the killing; but the rest decided that she didn't really want to know.

Snape continued in a brisker tone, "I knew that the Dark Lord would send someone to investigate, and neither your uncle nor I wished to be there when that happened. We both Apparated away in haste, he to his home and I to the far edge of the forest, which was as close as I could get to Hogwarts without being seen..." He shrugged. "The rest you know."

Maud shook her head. "You're lucky you didn't splinch yourself, on top of everything else. How long were you crawling around the forest before I found you?"

"I don't know." For the first time he seemed uncertain, and he glanced down at his cup again. "It can't have been that long or I would have died of exposure, but it seemed like hours before Athena came with your message... which was, of course, very comforting. 'Where are you?' Not exactly sentimental, but at least it gave me something to think about while I was conscious."

She flushed. "I had to write something. I needed a note for Athena to carry so I could see where you were."

His brows lifted. "You used your visual link with her to spy out my location? That was inventive. I wonder why no one's thought of doing that before?"

"I'm sure someone has, but it only works for short distances. And in most cases it probably wouldn't work at all." She paused, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Athena had been like a part of me for thirteen years. The bond we had was... special."

"I know." For once there was no mockery in his tone.

"She was old, and she wasn't used to much exercise. I should have known her heart would be weak." Maud bowed her head, struggling against a fresh surge of grief. "I should have known."

Snape's hand covered hers, gripped it. "You have no cause to blame yourself. If it were not for me--" Then he stopped, and said in a peculiar voice, "What did you put in this tea?"

She was taken aback. "What?"

"You put a Jobberknoll feather in my tea." He sounded stunned.

With an effort she kept her expression calm, sat back in the chair. "I can't imagine why you would think such a thing."

He flung the mug away from him with a curse: it shattered against the wall. Then, as she stared at him, he started to laugh: a weary, mirthless laughter that went on and on until he collapsed against the pillows, exhausted. "All right, Miss Moody," he gasped. "You have me at your mercy. What do you want to know?"

Wild thoughts chased each other through her head, and for a moment the sheer number of possibilities was overwhelming. But the first question that came out of Maud's mouth was, perversely, one she had almost forgotten until now:

"Why do you hate Harry Potter?"

For a moment Snape was very quiet, and she wondered if he would answer at all. Then he said, slowly, "Hate is not the word that I would choose. I find the boy's behaviour infuriating, his parentage loathsome and his attitude contemptible, but that is nothing compared to my opinion of -- others." On the last word his eyes became suddenly fierce, and she wondered who he could be thinking of: then he went on, "I will say this, however.

"During the first war against the Dark Lord, wizards and witches fought and bled and died; they lost homes, loved ones, health and sanity; they performed incredible acts of heroism and self-sacrifice. But in the annals of wizarding history, who receives the credit for the Dark Lord's defeat? Harry bloody Potter." For a moment his voice lost its smoothness, and she heard a rougher, less cultured cadence underneath: then he seemed to remember himself, and went on as before.

"An infant in arms has no right to be called a hero. Potter knew nothing, did nothing. He simply happened to be present when the Dark Lord made a fatal miscalculation. And yet he is petted and praised, even by the very children of those who suffered most, as though he had accomplished something great. That is something I cannot accept."

"But--" Maud was dismayed. "That isn't Harry's fault. Why punish him for it?"

"It was never my intention to punish Potter for the accident of his birth. I did, however, test him to see what he was made of -- which leads me to my second reason." He took a deep breath, grimaced at the pain in his ribs. "Like his late father, Potter shows a dangerous tendency to behave as though he is invincible, invulnerable, and somehow above the rules that bind lesser mortals. And that kind of foolishness I will not tolerate." The muscles of his jaw hardened. "Potter may consider himself ill-used, but if he knew it, I am doing him a favour. His father James was so popular, so much admired for his cleverness and his charm and his skill at Quidditch, so surrounded and supported by loyal friends--" his voice drawled sarcastically on the penultimate word-- "that he never realised how vulnerable, how fallible, he truly was. And in the end, that misplaced confidence killed him."

"So you're trying to save Harry's life?" She tried to keep the scepticism from her voice, but it crept in nonetheless. "It doesn't seem like a very good way to do it. The harder you come down on him, the more unreasonable he thinks you are."

"Perhaps. But he will not learn by being coddled and praised, either -- even if I could muster the hypocrisy to do it. And his anger against me, however juvenile, may yet drive him to excellence. Such things... have been known to happen."

She decided to let this pass, and changed the subject. "All right, then, why are you so harsh with students who break the rules? I know that as a teacher you have to uphold discipline to some extent, but--"

"Lawlessness begins when you start to believe that the only laws that bind you are the ones which you find convenient. It is a small step from that to becoming a law unto yourself." He looked at her levelly. "Have you seen anarchy? I have. At first it seems liberating, but eventually it becomes tedious, and you long for the return of order. But having rejected the rule of conscience, the only law that can hold you is the law of brute force. That was what the Dark Lord represented. Represents."

Maud was silent, weighing his words. At last she said, "But if I hadn't broken Hogwarts rules tonight, what would have happened to you?"

"What you did was not lawless, Maud. You simply set aside a lesser law for a greater one. The important thing was that in the end, the law you chose to follow was not one of your own invention, nor did you do it for your own convenience. Unfortunately--" His mouth twitched. "Not every student understands that distinction. Which is why the rules of Hogwarts must be upheld, and every infraction punished accordingly."

Maud could think of numerous exceptions Snape had made to that principle, particularly where Quidditch or certain well-connected Slytherins were involved, but she nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore may be merciful if he chooses," said Snape. "I am not accustomed to showing mercy... any more than I am to receiving it."

The roughness in his voice made her look up, concerned. He looked exhausted, she realised: there were black shadows under his eyes, and the lines around his mouth had deepened. More than anything, he needed to rest, and here she was making him defend his life's philosophy.

"Go to sleep," she said, putting a hand on his forehead. "You haven't lost consciousness for at least three hours now; the danger should be past. I'll be here if you need me."

"Oh, come now, Miss Moody." He gave a faint, mocking smile. "You must have more questions than that. You had better ask them now: you won't have a chance like this again."

"Won't I?" She rose from her seat, went to pick up the shattered fragments of the mug he had thrown. "I don't think it'll be that hard. All I need to do is catch you in a confessional mood, and let you pretend I've put a Jobberknoll feather in your tea."

Snape raised himself up on his elbows. "You mean you lied about--"

"To borrow a phrase, I have never lied to you. I merely followed your example, as any good apprentice ought to do, and refrained from explaining the truth."

For another moment he stared at her in disbelief: then he fell back against the pillows and laughed, the first genuine, spontaneous laughter she had heard from him all night. She watched in fascination as he chuckled -- an unexpectedly warm, throaty sound from a man so naturally reserved -- and the harsh planes of his face relaxed, making him look much younger. It was almost, she thought, like looking at the Snape that might have been, or might yet be one day, in a world without Voldemort.

"Maud," he said when he could speak, "Come here. Please."

It was the first time she could ever remember hearing Snape saying please to anyone. She put down the pieces of pottery and walked back to the bedside.

"Tell me," he said. The smile faded, and his eyes held hers, level and unblinking. "The truth, all of it: do you love me?"

Her heart flipped over like an hourglass, and time stopped. Do you love me? It was a question she had never expected him to ask, not in so many words. Nor had she ever imagined she would have to tell him the answer. And yet, in that moment, all the tangled thoughts and emotions of the past week seemed to unknot themselves, and her response came without further need for thought:

"You are not in the least loveable," she said, returning his gaze with a steadiness she did not feel. "You are sarcastic and high-handed and maddeningly indirect; you leave your hair greasy and your teeth yellow for reasons I cannot fathom; you appear to have no life outside of Hogwarts and no one seems to trust you but Dumbledore; you blinded me when I was four and might have inadvertently bewitched me as well, a possibility which has caused me some serious consternation... and yes, I love you. Not because you made me love you -- I know that now, even if my uncle doesn't -- or because I wanted to love you. But because I choose to love you, and because I know that you need me to love you, whether you are prepared to admit it or not."

She finished the last sentence in a rush, and stood waiting for the axe to fall. He could send her away now, if he chose: and given what he had said about rules, he probably would. Last night he had tested her with a griffin feather, and she had failed; tonight he had put his life in her hands, and she had refused to take it. If what he wanted from her was a cold façade and a ruthless expedience that matched his own, he would have to look elsewhere: Maud knew what she was, now, and she was not an extension of Snape. Nor would she ever be.

Snape nodded, as though it were what he had expected. "Thank you," he said. "And now, I will ask you to do something for me."

Maud took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Will you step aside, so I can speak to the Headmaster?"

For a moment Maud stared at him, unable to believe her ears. Then, very slowly, she turned around.

Dumbledore was standing behind her, his hands folded into the sleeves of his starry robe. His eyes looked weary behind his half-moon spectacles, and his mouth was grave. "It is very late, Miss Moody," he said. "Or perhaps I should say, very early. I trust you have an explanation?"