Summoned

Chapter 5: Think Twice

"Used properly, the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence."

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix

July 10, 1995, late afternoon

"You lied to me."

Dumbledore stood in Minerva's doorway and her words had stopped him from moving further into the room. "I- ?"

"I guess I don't have any skill in Legilimency after all. You looked me straight in the eye and lied." She finished unfastening her cape and draped it over the loveseat. "She didn't die in Azkaban."

...The old woman, groveling with pain, twisting in agony, calling his name - and then dead at Severus' hand. Some fragment of a memory from this morning had invaded her mind and she realized who the woman was.

It took a minute before he responded, and she watched his eyes flick back and forth, trying to understand what she had said. "I didn't lie to you, Minerva. I only came across that memory earlier today, with Orestes. Like so much else, it wasn't necessary for you to know."

She forced herself to breathe normally, slowly. "Even though you knew it contradicted what you told me?"

Dumbledore came into the room and sat heavily on her chair. "Severus didn't recognize her, it had been so long since he'd seen her. And after five years in Azkaban, her appearance was quite changed."

"Is that supposed to be some form of justification?" she demanded.

"It was his initiation as a Death Eater. He had no choice but to obey, or he would have been killed." He sighed heavily and stared at the carpet. "Lucius Malfoy was there. He and Voldemort had been torturing the woman for hours: Severus had to watch. Finally, he killed her. And then Voldemort told him who she was." He looked away, into the cold fireplace. "It broke him."

Those were not words she would ever have associated with Severus. She shook her head. "He didn't break. He surrendered."

"For Severus, there's no difference." He sighed and tilted his head. "I can see this is all having far too great an affect on you. I can't work alone on this, but - I may have to wait until Orestes is better to continue."

She said nothing: he was right. It was beginning to make her fear sleep and dread waking up, knowing what she would be doing to Severus each day. She went and sat on the loveseat and stared into the fireplace. "I didn't realize, Albus, that I actually - cared that much." She looked at him. "I never disliked him, though I often disliked the way he acted. But now..."

"You already know too much. More than Severus would have ever wanted you to know."

She smirked. "About Lily Potter, you mean?"

"About everything. His childhood, his parents, James and Lily, Azkaban... Everything." He sounded tired. He bent forward in the chair, took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. "I don't want to send him to St. Mungo's, but - I don't think I'm going to have much choice." He looked up. "They have Healers there skilled in Legilimens. Not as skilled as Orestes, of course, but..."

Minerva considered the choices before her. On the one hand, she would give almost anything to never have to see inside Severus Snape's mind again. But on the other, she felt, in a strange way, committed to seeing this through. She just wasn't sure how many more horrifying surprises she could stand.

And so, maybe she could get that information another way. "You know him better than anyone, Albus. You said you worked with him in Occlumency when he was younger."

"Not that much," he interrupted. "He caught on very fast! And that was when he was still a student. A long time ago, Minerva."

"Still." She took a deep breath. "Are there any other - revelations - you could tell me now before I have to find them out by - wandering through them?"

He shook his head. He didn't even need to consider her question. "All I can say is that we're likely to find more of what we've been finding. His mind must have been highly enjoyable to Voldemort."

"Doesn't he have any happy memories? Surely, no one can get by in life without some happy memory!"

Dumbledore met her eyes for several long seconds, then put his half-moon spectacles back on. "Lily." He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I think he has good memories of her when they were - friends. And, perhaps, some good memories from his summers here. In the dungeons. Finally being left alone, not having to worry about someone beating or humiliating him."

She considered that. Yes, she had sensed flickers of happiness when she saw him and Lily together. She hadn't found, or sensed, memories of his summers at Hogwarts. But she could believe they might have been happy: he still seemed to prefer the dungeons to the rest of the school. Of course, being a Slytherin, he'd gotten used to the dank coldness of the underwater Common Room as a student.

"I confess, Minerva," Dumbledore began a few seconds later, "that I'm torn between wanting you to continue and knowing that, if we get him back, Severus isn't going to be at all pleased by what you've learned. He values his privacy."

"And I'm acting in the role of a Healer," she said. "Whatever I've learned is confidential." And she knew, at that moment, that she would stick this out. "It's not as if I'll ever have occasion to bring up any of this. And I can't imagine that he would simply ask one day, 'By the way, do you happen to know all about my brutal parents?'" She imitated his voice when she said that, and Dumbledore smiled a little.

"Then, if you're willing, we need to continue. - Perhaps Madam Pomfrey could give you some Dreamless Sleep tonight to help."

She hadn't thought of that before, but the idea was appealing. One of the side-effects of this was, in fact, that her own brain seemed to process and re-process everything overnight.

She nodded an acknowledgment to Dumbledore.

"Then we should go back."

* * *

Hagrid hadn't brought a book this time. Madam Pomfrey had indicated that he wouldn't be needed for long. And, as it turned out, she was right. But the hour or so he spent in the ward watching the professor was different this time than the last.

This time, Professor Snape's eyes were open. He was looking around, but when Hagrid greeted him, he didn't seem to have heard. Twice, his gaze took in the oversized groundskeeper, but neither time did he seem to recognize him.

"It's me, Professor, Hagrid. Came ter sit wi' ye until Dumbledore gets back. Needed to give Madam Pomfrey a little break, ye see."

There was no reaction to the words, but Snape's eyes kept wandering around the room, as if searching for something. His head barely moved; his hands clenched the bed sheet as if he were hanging onto it to keep from falling.

"Oh, here!" He pulled something from the pocket of his coat. "I found this fer ye. Knew you'd need it back." He held up Snape's wand. The man stared but couldn't move. "I'll jus' put it right here, Professor," he said, opening the top drawer to the small cabinet next to the bed. "I know yer not feelin' so good righ' now, Professor, but I'm sure ye'll be back to yer old-" he hesitated, about to say "snarly self", then changed his mind. "Yer old self real soon."

He waited, but Snape just kept looking around the room. Then, a minute or so later, he opened his lips, as if he were going to speak. And when he did, he gripped the bedclothes tighter, as if he were in pain again, and he breathed hard, the way he would if he'd been running or something.

"Dum-ble-dore," he gasped. "Gone?"

"Oh, I - I think he'll be back soon, Professor. Did ye wan' ter give me a message for him?"

Severus' eyes shut and pain registered across his face. He began groaning and tossing his head on the pillow, and then, as if the words had been torn out of him against his will, he said, "Do it. Now."

He cried out and his body twisted and contorted and Hagrid reached down and put a hand on the man's arm. He wrenched free and Hagrid could do nothing but just sit there and watch... And then he began to hum, and shortly the man was once more lying still on the bed. And Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief.

He got up when Severus' eyes closed, and went to find Madam Pomfrey. "He's talkin'," he reported when he found her mixing potions in the back room. "He says to tell Dumbledore, 'Do it now.' Does that make any sense, Madam Pomfrey?"

Her eyes opened wide and she nodded. "Yes." She put down a ladle she'd been using to stir something noxious in her largest cauldron, and went to the fireplace in her office. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the miniature cauldron hanging on the hearth, and threw it into the fireplace.

"Headmaster, may I have a word with you? It's about Professor Snape."

* * * * July 10, 1995, late afternoon/ early evening

"Do it now," were apparently the only words Severus said before Albus and Minerva returned to the hospital wing. But Dumbledore had chosen to interpret the words in their most obvious meaning, and he settled in with Minerva minutes after Hagrid's report, and, meeting the black eyes before him, Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"We're going to search for Vo- his attack," he explained. It was half a question, in case Severus had meant something else. "This might not be easy."

He thought he saw a flare of anger in the eyes, as if to remind the Headmaster that 'easy' wasn't a word that could be applied to any of this.

"Can you help us find the memories, Severus?"

His lips parted. But as they moved, as if to form words, he shut his eyes tightly and his body became rigid as he fought against another round of spasms. "Look. Twice."

He had no idea what Severus meant, but anticipated that, once he began, he would figure it out.

"Minerva?" He reached for her hand and she also held up her wand. And together, the word, "Legilimens," broke the bubble of silence around them and Severus began to scream...

...They were in the overly large, cavernous room of the Wizengamot. Dementors on either side of him accompanied him to the chair in the center of the room, where chains magically bound his ankles and wrists to the weathered wood. The old man was watching him: he could feel Dumbledore's ancient gaze on him, almost looking into his soul.

Yes, old man, I know you can look into me if you try. But you won't. You are too trusting, too easy to fool. You must always believe the best of others.

He looked at Dumbledore with disdain. How foolish the old man was! How utterly gullible. He had shown up to defend him, Severus Snape, most valuable servant to Lord Voldemort. He had shown up because Severus had made sure he would, had created a story so compelling that Dumbledore believed he had changed his ways.

What was it someone once said? You couldn't change a leopard's spots?

Dumbledore had always thought he could.

"Severus Snape, you have been brought before this court to face charges related to your actions as a Death Eater in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Minister Crouch began. "How do you plead?"

Idiot! Coward! Afraid to even speak the great wizard's name! He felt a stirring of triumph: it was going to be so very easy to deceive these simpletons. "I plead not guilty."

"You were seen by others," the Minister said calmly, glancing at parchments in front of him, "engaged in various services to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: specifically, you used the Unforgivable Curse, Avada Kedavra, on an old woman..."

"Minister," Dumbledore said sharply, cutting off the rest of the charge and stepping forward to stand next to Severus. "I am here to give testimony on behalf of Severus Snape. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

He struggled to keep his smile from showing: the old man had bought every word of his pathetic story, his plea for Lily Evans' safety, his promise to work for him in return... Oh, yes, the Dark Lord knew that Severus had hoped to be able to spare Lily's life. But, as he had told Voldemort, there were other women, other pureblood women, women whose offspring would rise up one day to carry on Voldemort's mission to purify the wizarding race.

"I do not question the fact that, in his early days, Severus Snape's loyalty to Voldemort -"

At least Dumbledore had the guts to say the name!

" - forced him to carry out deeds which I know he regrets."

"Regret, Headmaster, is not the same as innocence."

"No, it is not." Dumbledore moved a step closer and put his hand on Severus' shoulder. "But I would like to offer testimony that will convince you that Severus - Snape," he added, as if he momentarily forgot that he was in danger of using too familiar a manner of referring to the Death Eater, "returned to our side prior to Voldemort's fall and is no longer loyal to Voldemort's teachings or goals."

Severus could hardly wait to hear Dumbledore's easily exploited trust form the words that would get him out of here and back to what he knew he had to do if Voldemort were ever to regain power...

* * *

Severus stopped screaming. Dumbledore broke the spell and gasped. He sank back against the chair, his eyes staring into Severus' cold, angry ones, his hand shaking. He put his wand on his lap and said, "That isn't how it happened."

Severus was panting, breathing as if he couldn't get any air. His eyes took on a tormented, furious look, and through clenched teeth he hissed, "False. Memories. For him. To find." His body began to jerk, but after only a few seconds, with a great deal of struggle, Severus conquered the convulsions and lay panting on the bed. "Look. Again."

Dubious, Dumbledore took up his wand, glanced at Minerva, who looked pale, and intoned, "Legilimens!"

..."As I mentioned at the start of this trial, Minister, I can personally vouch for Severus Snape's loyalty to us. He is the one who warned us that Voldemort was after the Potters."

"Well, his information didn't do much good, did it?"

"That is not the fault of Severus - Snape." He took a deep breath. "They trusted the wrong person. That person is now in Azkaban. This one," he said, gesturing to the chair where Severus sat, strapped by chains, "should not be. He is both loyal and valuable to our cause."

"I hardly see the use of a spy now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - and I would ask you not to speak his name in this courtroom again! - is, as we know, dead."

"I believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not dead. Weakened, yes. But I firmly believe we have not seen the end of him. And when he does return, Minister, I think you will be very glad that we have Severus Snape working for us."

"I doubt it. - By the way, Snape, just how many people have you killed? And tortured?"

"Isn't there a statute that prevents self-incrimination, Minister?" Dumbledore asked quickly, putting his hand on Severus' shoulder to keep him silent.

The Minister grinned nastily. "I think, Dumbledore, that we will need more than your - judgment - that Snape has reformed."

"Then may I say, Minister, that I am well skilled in Legilimency."

There were murmurs around the room, and several members of the court turned rather eagerly to Severus. "I can assure you, Severus Snape is no longer loyal to Vol- to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He has my complete, total trust."

There was a long silence. It seemed that some of the more curious members were hoping for some juicy details.

"You recognize, Dumbledore," the Minister said, "that it's your head if we hear so much as a whisper that he has returned to his Dark practices?"

"I do."

The Minister looked distinctly unhappy. "And if there is so much as a whisper that his -reform - doesn't 'take', I will be only too happy to bring these charges back and re-try him. Is that clear?"

"It is," said the Headmaster. His fingers gripped Severus' shoulder a little tighter.

Another silence. "Very well. All in favor of conviction?"

Several hands went up, but not the majority.

"Of acquittal?" Many more hands were raised. "This court finds the defendant - acquitted of all charges. He will be returned to Azkaban to collect his clothing and any other personal belongings, and then released forthwith."

"Minister, I would like to accompany Severus - Snape back to Azkaban, as I will be transporting him from there to his home."

The minister looked very unhappy. "Very well." He banged his gavel. "Next case."

"Lucius Malfoy," said a distant voice.

He felt his stomach begin to churn dangerously, but Dumbledore whispered, "Don't worry about him," in his ear.

The chains fell off his arms and dropped from his ankles. Dumbledore waited just long enough to see if Severus could stand on his own, and only when it became apparent that he could not did the older wizard offer him a hand, and then an arm to lean upon as he stumbled back to where the dementors hovered.

"I'll be right there, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice quiet and kind.

It took every ounce of strength to remain upright as the hungry creatures who took him began to feed on his memories. It took even more for him to squelch the sudden panic that rose as he lost sight of his savior.

After ten days with the dementors, he had allowed himself to be comforted by Dumbledore's presence at the trial; he had allowed himself to bask for those long minutes in the knowledge that there was one human being on earth who was willing to stand by him still. And now, even knowing the wizard would be back by his side within hours, Dumbledore's absence caused a quick trembling of fear to course through him, something he hadn't felt since he was a child, something to feed the dementors...

That would never do!

He was taken to the holding cell and from there, he and another guard Disapparated and reappeared at Hellingsport, where he was ferried back to Azkaban. Down the dark hallways, the slimy, algae-covered stone walls, the clack of the guard's shoes on the cobbled floor. His own feet were bare, and the stone was cold and scratchy. He was taken to the end of a hall where a small, standard cell was open. He was shoved inside and a waiting guard tossed his old clothing to him.

His clothing stank. It was what he'd been wearing when he'd gotten to the house in Godric's Hollow; he'd had it on when he'd returned to Hogwarts. And he'd still been wearing it when the Aurors had come to arrest him. Now it had also been sitting in a damp trunk here in the basement for the last ten days. His black robe was covered with plaster dust and drenched with sweat. His jacket and shirt, pants, socks, underwear, everything gave off a foul, decaying odor.

Well, that pretty much matched the state of his soul, he figured, and put them on.

Outside the bars, at the other side of the large room in which the cell sat, he saw Dumbledore talking to another guard who stood behind a counter, handing parchments across it that Dumbledore signed. He heard the Headmaster's voice rise, but couldn't make out the words.

"Ready, Severus?"

He finished buttoning his left sleeve, covering the fading but permanent mark of his servitude to Voldemort, and nodded silently. The guard opened the cell door and he stepped out cautiously. Even though he was technically free, even though Dumbledore was right here, he wasn't going to assume that the guards wouldn't again try some minor physical punishment. They'd managed to make nearly every waking moment for the last ten days slightly more hellish than they would have been with just the dementors; he knew they weren't happy to see him released.

"His wand," Dumbledore demanded.

"He's not allowed to have it until you're off the premises." The guard who'd been talking to Dumbledore earlier reached behind his counter and handed it to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore took the stick, pocketed it, and nodded silently, then put his hand under Severus' elbow and guided him through the hallway and to the right, then down a hundred or so stairs until they reached the front gate.

The ferry was there, waiting: a cold, drizzling rain covered the visible world. Dumbledore put his hand on Severus' shoulder and led him to a seat on the ferry. He swayed, feeling light-headed and nauseous. He felt himself blacking out for a second, saw nothing but the dark interior of his cell, then the cell he had been in years before...

"Severus?" Dumbledore had a tighter grip on his arm. He turned and remembered where he was. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, away from the support of the old wizard and sank onto one of the seats on the small boat.

The trip took an hour and a half, and when he heard Dumbledore saying, "We're here," he woke and realized with horror that he had fallen asleep with his head on the Headmaster's shoulder.

The way a child might...

They disembarked and Dumbledore went to the small Inn at Hellingsport and walked directly to the fireplace in the dining room, half dragging Severus along by the arm.

Floo powder was hanging by the hearth and Dumbledore sifted some into his hand. "I have our brooms waiting for us at the Three Cauldrons."

For a second, just the length of a breath, he realized he could, if he wanted, state any destination in the Network, leave Dumbledore and Hogwarts and the whole world behind, start over somewhere else.

But there really was nowhere else for him now. And as he turned and saw the compassion in Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes, he realized he owed the man an enormous debt for getting him out of Azkaban: a debt he would be paying for the rest of his life, he was sure.

"Three Cauldrons!"

The powder exploded in green sparks and he coughed and found himself stepping out of the fireplace at the bar in Hogsmeade. A few seconds behind him was Dumbledore who made it off the hearth without so much as a glittering of powder on his robes.

"Let's grab some lunch, then, shall we, before we go back?" He gestured - and half supported - Severus to an empty table and beckoned the waitress. "Two butterbeers," he ordered, "and I'll have a steak and kidney pie. Severus?"

And as he spoke the name, heads from around the tavern turned to look at them. It was not unlike the many times he'd been stared at by classmates in the Great Hall, he thought, but he hated it all the same.

"Nothing."

"I know you haven't eaten since -"

"Nothing!" he hissed.

Dumbledore looked back up at the waitress and gave her a swift, dismissive look. Then he turned back. There were now murmurings around the room that hadn't been obvious before, enough for words and phrases to break through the background buzz of conversation. Enough to make them both aware of the fact that they were the focus of attention.

"Ignore them," Dumbledore said, and the two butterbeers arrived. "Drink up!" he said cheerily, and followed his own advice, downing half the mug in one gulp.

Severus sipped at his: the alcohol on an empty stomach - and he couldn't have eaten right then if he'd been threatened with another day of the dementors - was certainly going to hit him hard. He wasn't ready to be at all off guard. There were still too many dangers before he was safely within the confines of Hogwarts.

And then the irony of his thoughts hit him. Safety and Hogwarts, together in his mind. Not something that had been true since he'd graduated.

"A Galleon for your thoughts," the Headmaster finally said, his voice very low so as not to be overheard. His pie had been delivered and he cut through the top pastry to let out the steam.

Severus snickered without humor. "They aren't worth it." He kept his voice barely above a whisper and spoke slowly, carefully.

"A Knut, then. - Talk to me, Severus."

He sipped from his mug. "I have nothing to say."

Dumbledore made a low sound in his throat and began eating. "I think you have a great deal to say; I think you're afraid of saying it."

That got his hackles up. He sharpened his gaze and leaned forward. "When have I ever been afraid to speak my mind?" he demanded, pronouncing each word as sharply as he could.

"Never, until the dementors got hold of it. Ten days is a long time, Severus, much longer than I thought you'd... And it's more than enough time to learn to keep your tongue silent and your thoughts hidden." There was a damnable sparkle in the blue eyes. "I think, though, that you might be wise to wait until we're at the castle before you - share your thoughts." He cocked his head slightly, looking down through his half-moon spectacles, then turning his attention to the pie. "This is really quite delicious," he said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some?"

He glared at the pie with loathing, and didn't bother to answer aloud.

Dumbledore ate quickly, but waited until Severus had drunk his butterbeer before they left. Two brooms, near the fireplace, were waiting for them as the Headmaster said. They took them outside, mounted them, and headed back toward the castle.

Dumbledore's insistence that Snape meet him in his office "as soon as you feel more - at ease," was not to be disobeyed. He felt himself a child again under the cursedly gentle eyes of the Headmaster, whose kindness he had craved. And loathed, for the debt it put him in and for the weakness it showed him about himself.

He showered and found clean clothing in his chambers, noting, when he checked himself in the mirror, that his appearance had taken a turn for the worse in the last two weeks. As if it would matter to anyone.

He found the gargoyle guarding the staircase to the Headmaster's office, gave it the password Dumbledore had given him ("Tea for Two") and took the spiral steps up to the imposing, but familiar, door.

Dumbledore had a roaring, warming fire in his fireplace, had, in fact, prepared tea for two, with biscuits and finger sandwiches, and had changed into less formal robes of pale blue, with wizarding symbols decorating the hem and sleeves.

"Ah, much better, much better," he said by way of greeting. "Make yourself comfortable, Severus."

"Is this to be a lecture, Headmaster?"

The man chuckled. "Hardly. Unless you'd like to give one."

Part of him would have loved to: but that was a part of him still too vulnerable to the pain of Lily's death to be expressed yet. He sat without response. Stiffly. At the edge of the overstuffed chair. Still feeling a bit off and, while not hungry in the least, he considered that eating something, a sandwich, perhaps, might be wise. He would not, however, take the first one.

Dumbledore sat across from him, spread his cloaks and placed his arms on the armrests of his chair. "Now then," he started. "I thought we should discuss your future here."

If the feeling of being once more a child in front of this man had been strong before, now it was nearly overwhelming. How often had Dumbledore opened discussions like this with him in his student days? Certainly, once a year, he remembered, at the beginning of the year. Usually once or twice each summer, when his experimental potions or jinxes turned out to be more destructive than he had counted on. And, of course, several times during the course of each school year as letters from teachers that would have been delivered to his parents were, instead, delivered to the Headmaster.

And now, once again: his future at Hogwarts, which was, in fact, the only future he could see himself having any more.

"I know you want the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," he started conversationally, "but if the Wizengamot found out you were teaching that? No."

He had braced himself for this. It was the discussion he had waited a long time to have: 'I'm sorry, Severus, you can no longer remain at Hogwarts...'

But Dumbledore continued, very calmly, not even bothering to hold his gaze. "I believe you are perfectly suited to continue in the position of Potions master. And I would like you to be Head of Slytherin House as well. It still seems to be a hotbed of recruiting into the Dark Arts, as you know."

Without realizing it, Severus let out a breath he'd been holding. He felt relief pour into his body, drowning the terrible thoughts his imagination had conjured for him.

He wasn't being expelled! He wasn't being turned out. He wasn't being rejected!

"You - want me to continue teaching here?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Dumbledore leaned forward to pour himself a cup of tea, but paused and looked into Severus' eyes very deeply. "Where else would you go?"

An almost overwhelming feeling of gratitude welled up inside him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. And even as the emotion threatened to submerge him, he forced it away, forced all his raw emotions into a hidden place.

"I appreciate your confidence, Headmaster," was all he could finally manage...

The room faded...

They were in one of the dungeon rooms that Severus used for making his potions. But Severus wasn't there - at least, the adult Severus wasn't.

The boy, about fourteen, his face covered with grime and his hair falling haphazardly in his face, was carefully decanting something from a cold cauldron into a cup. The door slammed open and a slightly younger looking Dumbledore stormed in.

"What in the name of Merlin have you been doing here?" Dumbledore roared. "That blast carried all the way to the second floor!" The small room the size of a broom closet outside the Potions classroom was covered with soot and filled with smoke.

"A new potion," Severus answered calmly. He was struggling not to smile, but he was losing that battle. He held out the cup. "Would you like to try some?"

"Sir!" Dumbledore corrected him angrily.

"You don't need to call me 'sir'," the boy responded, a wide grin in place on his face.

The look in Dumbledore's eyes was enough to make much stronger wizards than Severus quake: but the boy just continued looking at him with glee.

"You are in grave danger of losing your position here, Mr. Snape!"

"I know." The boy sighed and put the cup on one of the nearby counters. "Well, where are you going to send me? The orphanage? I won't stay there, you know." He cocked his head. "Maybe I'll go join the Death Eaters since everyone already thinks I am one." He turned then to look at the Headmaster and still, he seemed unfazed. "They all think I killed my father, you know."

Dumbledore's expression changed. It was not quite as stern. "Mr. Snape, what is the nature of that potion?"

The boy chuckled. It was actually almost a giggle. "Euphoria potion."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and returned to his glare. "And how long do you think it will take for the effects to wear off?"

Severus shrugged lazily. "A few hours, I guess. Haven't tried it before, but if I got the ingredients right..."

"I will be back in 'a few hours', then, to discuss this with you when you are capable of having a sober conversation with me. In the meantime, I want this place cleaned up and the rest of that potion Vanished, am I clear?"

"Yes. - Sir."

Dumbledore turned and left the room, and Severus stood there, watching the large, wooden door shut behind him. And then, for a few seconds, his grin wavered and a thought that shouldn't have broken through the potion caught him: what if Dumbledore turned him out? Where would he go, really? Not to the Death Eaters, they wouldn't have him either, not if Avery and Goyle were any indication of what Voldemort wanted.

No, he couldn't let Dumbledore do that. He had nothing if he didn't have this!

He needed to make Dumbledore keep him. He had to convince him that he wouldn't make any more potions like this, he had to promise, he had to -

He would beg if he had to; he'd done it often enough at home, hadn't he?

He just couldn't lose Hogwarts!

He couldn't lose Dumbledore!

... Dumbledore's office. Again.

There was a knock and the Headmaster called the visitor to enter. Severus came in, trying to still the trembling he felt. He was twelve, he was scared, and Dumbledore had sent for him in the middle of dinner.

"Come in, Severus, come in. Close the door behind you." Dumbledore didn't seem angry. But then why else would he have summoned him like this?

"Have a seat, boy. Would you like some Cockroach Clusters? Acid pops?" The man had left his seat behind the desk and was closing on him, his large, imposing form seeming larger with his robes billowing around him. He gestured to two large bowls of candy sitting on the table nearby.

Severus managed to shake his head, but he couldn't stop his stomach churning. Something very bad was going to happen, he just knew it! It was like when Tobias used to wake him up in the middle of the night...

Dumbledore looked at him for a few seconds, then came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, waiting...

"You're not in trouble, Severus, relax. Here, sit down." He gestured to a long bench, an old wooden bench carved as if it had once belonged in a cathedral. "I think we need to discuss a few things."

Okay, he knew what this was about. Professor McGonagall had caught him hexing Potter and Black two days ago, and she'd given him detention and a lecture and an essay to write. And he hadn't turned in his essay! He always figured McGonagall had a broomstick up her arse!

He took a deep breath. "I meant to get the essay finished, sir, but - well, I was studying for my test in Potions, and I didn't want to fail -"

"Severus. This is not about an essay, or an exam. Not exactly." The old wizard pulled a chair up in front of Severus and sat in it, his robes flowing all around him so that it appeared he was sitting on thin air. "Some of your teachers, as you know, have sent notes to your parents this year -"

"I promise, sir, I promise, I won't do it again!"

"Do what, Severus?" the man asked, clearly puzzled. It was time to backtrack.

"Well, whatever - what they said I did."

Dumbledore smiled. "And what did they say you did?"

He felt his face growing hot and he looked away.

"Never mind that right now. The point is, that - well, those letters couldn't be delivered to your parents, could they?"

And now he felt cold. His fingers felt so cold and stiff suddenly, that he wasn't sure they were still part of him. He stared at Dumbledore, and the horrible truth hit him in the chest and he couldn't breathe and then he felt tears sting his eyes and he blinked them back.

"I didn't kill him! I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" He heard his own voice screeching through the room, felt himself trembling from head to foot, just the way he did when he heard Tobias coming, when he smelled the man's foul breath, when...

"I just wanted to stop him, I didn't want to kill him! I only said 'Avada' and then she - I didn't kill him!"

"Oh, my boy, my boy!" Swiftly, Dumbledore was out of his chair, his arms grabbed the boy and pulled him from the bench and encircled him and he struggled to get free but he couldn't.

"I didn't kill him, I swear I didn't do it!" His cries were muffled in the soft, sweet-smelling cloaks of the Headmaster, and he felt the strong arms hold him close.

And it didn't hurt. It didn't even feel that scary after a minute. He was still crying, still pleading to be believed, but after a bit longer he gasped and gulped and hiccupped and Dumbledore let go of the tight hold and held him at arm's length. He looked very sad.

"Who thought you killed him?"

"They did! They came to the house because I used magic. They said they could tell when I used it. And they came to arrest me..."

"Severus, they arrested your mother."

He sniffed and ran his arm across his nose. "They took me first! I had the wand and they took me... He was dead and I'd said that word... I didn't mean to use that word! I didn't! I didn't mean to kill him!"

Dumbledore pulled him close again, and this time he didn't fight it. He felt the gnarled hands stroke his hair, he felt his stomach churn as if he were going to be sick, and he felt something he didn't understand at all, something...

"It's alright, Severus. I know you didn't."

"They - took me - to the cells. They - they -" He stopped. He couldn't tell anyone what they had done there. He couldn't tell Dumbledore. He was too ashamed. He didn't want to think about it.

After a few minutes, when he had stopped shaking, when he stopped hiccupping and his face was dry, Dumbledore let him go again. He was embarrassed and he looked away and wiped his face.

"Severus. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. Do you understand me?" He nodded and Dumbledore handed him something: it was a piece of chocolate. "Here. This is a chocolate frog card. I have my own, you know!"

He took it and began to chew on it. He wasn't sure now what he was going to do, though. Dumbledore had seen him cry! It was going to be all over the school by the time he went to bed.

"Feeling a bit better?" Dumbledore asked, after all the chocolate was gone. He nodded, but that wasn't really the truth. He was still shaking inside.

The Headmaster went back to his seat, watching Severus as he sat back also, and waited.

"We need to figure out what to tell your teachers," Dumbledore said. His voice was soft, not angry at all. Severus couldn't understand that.

"You're not going to tell them that my mom killed my dad?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I think we'll tell them that your father is dead and that your mother is - away for a while. How does that sound?"

"They won't believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because - because -" He couldn't answer that question. He couldn't tell about...

Dumbledore smiled. "Now, the other thing we need to figure out is what to do with you this summer."

He wrinkled his forehead. "What do you mean - what to do with me?"

"What did you do last summer? Did you stay with relatives? Family friends?"

He shook his head and he began to get a sick feeling again: Dumbledore was going to send him back to Azkaban! He just knew it!

"I can go home. Sir," he said, as politely as he could, trying not to sound terrified.

Dumbledore shook his head. "There's no one to take care of you."

"I took care of myself last summer!" he protested.

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment, then said, "How did you manage that? How did you eat?"

"I know how to get food!" He realized he shouldn't have used that tone of voice almost as soon as the words were out. But the Headmaster didn't seem to notice.

"But how did you pay for it?"

He thought fast and glanced at the rug. "I - my dad always left a lot of money lying around. So'd my mom." He didn't look up.

After a moment, Dumbledore said, "Yes, of course." And he knew Dumbledore hadn't believed him. "Well, we can't have that situation again. We need to find somewhere for you -"

"I can stay here," he offered. He looked back at the old wizard's blue eyes. "I promise, I won't get into any trouble, I'll be very good -"

"I'm afraid that won't work, Severus. There'll be no one here to care for you."

"I don't need anyone to care for me!" He caught himself too late. He was half off the bench, he had yelled at the Headmaster, and he knew he was going to be expelled.

But Dumbledore just looked at him, and then said, "We'll discuss this later. We have until the end of the year. Don't concern yourself with it right now, alright?"

He took a hard breath and nodded. His hands were clenched and he sat back down as calmly as he could.

He didn't want anyone to take care of him any more! He didn't want anyone! For anything!

He looked into Dumbledore's eyes, and wondered if he knew he really did want someone...

The room was deathly still when Dumbledore broke the spell. Minerva wasn't sure who looked worse at that moment, the Headmaster or Potions master, neither of whom would meet her, or each others' eyes. She wasn't sure how she herself looked, but if the way she felt were any indication, she assumed that she was as pale as the other two.

Until now, she had gotten impressions of varying intensities, feelings that wavered between strong and weak, images that, if she tried, she was able to put together and, eventually create a kind of sense to it all.

Except, of course, for the memories of Severus in Azkaban, tormented by the dementors. Those had been overwhelming, as clear as a if she'd been there.

And now this.

Severus finally turned to Dumbledore, black eyes shining with anger, with pain. With moisture.

"Now," he forced out between gritted teeth, "Leave. Me. Alone."

Dumbledore's hands were shaking. He met Severus' eyes evenly and shook his head. "He learned nothing. Voldemort learned nothing."

There was a faint movement of Severus' head, like a nod. "Leave. Me. Alone."

Dumbledore's gaze dropped and Minerva followed it. Severus' hands, his fingers white, were clenched into fists so tight that she could see the fingernails cutting the flesh of his palms. Dumbledore looked back up and nodded. Silently, he stood. He pocketed his wand, as did Minerva, following suit.

"I'll talk with you - later," the Headmaster said, and turned and left before Severus could respond.

Minerva watched him for a few seconds longer, but he wouldn't look at her. He ignored her deliberately, turning his head away and shutting his eyes, his hands still fisted.

She left, shooting Poppy a warning glance and shaking her head to warn her off.

She had felt it. All of it. The fear, the sadness, the horrors at Azkaban that he couldn't face. She felt his need, his hunger for Dumbledore's affection, for his protection. She felt the despair each time he was afraid he'd lost it.

He would die, she now knew, before he would betray Dumbledore.