Downsides to a Conscience

by Ranowa Hikura

Or, how Severus Snape ended up rooting around Ginny's head to try and save her life. Really- having a conscience was so pesky at times. AU during CoS, long oneshot, onesided Snape/Lily.

Damn you, Snape. This is the most complex character I've ever written... was not anticipating such a struggle when I got inspired by a Potter Puppet Pals video! I don't even know if I've written him correctly or not. Not to mention Snape wouldn't let this rest until it was an obscene length, I had played up half the cliches in the book, and I even had dragged Lily into it. Damn it. Well, at least I was glad these books are available free online for my research efforts! ...until this morphed slowly into something that wasn't even based off any real research at all...

Anyway. To any of those who remember me from my first HP fic years ago, I am sorry. I really sucked back then. If you don't remember, I urge you, don't go looking on my profile for my first HP fic. Judge me off of this... not that. Since inevitably my muse wanted to be in a Snape sort of mood, rather than a conducive one- well, this happened. I'm not sure why. She seems to love getting inspired by the start of classes after a summer of lying dormant... this is not the first time this has happened... well, I do hope you enjoy! I certainly put a lot of effort into it. Again... damn you, Snape...

---

It was with a distinct sense of discontent that Severus realized Ginny Weasley had the best potion in the class.

The students were all both understandably and unforgivably distracted. Two had accidentally set themselves on fire just this week, and another bumbling seventh year who he couldn't, for the life of him, understand why he hadn't yet dropped potions had managed to vaporize a sleeping draught by misreading boomslang skin as boomerwart claws. The child had barely escaped with his head, and most likely wouldn't have if Severus hadn't managed to contain the disaster before it had knocked him out, too. Three students were still in the hospital wing.

So, if seventh years were distracted to the point of debacle, he could grudgingly give the first years a bit of slack. They weren't focused even on the best of days, and their potions were more like poisonous slop even when they were trying hard- with the Chamber of Secrets now open and mudblood-slaughtering beasts apparently running amok, he was just lucky there hadn't been more explosions.

But the potion in Ginny Weasley's cauldron was actually... acceptable.

If he wanted to be nitpicky, and yes, he did, because she was a Gryffindor and a detestable Weasley at that, it was acceptable and nothing more. The color wasn't dark enough; she had stirred it for too long, and he could see hints of still undissolved ingredients poking up throughout the mixture suggesting she hadn't prepared them properly, and he knew if he took this hangover cure himself, all it would give him was a headache.

But compared to the misshapen lumps, steaming rainbow vapors, and slowly solidifying charcoal he'd passed in his walk around the room, Ginny Weasley was the only one who had a future in potions that didn't involve detention.

This would've been less disturbing if throughout the year she hadn't already shown a proclivity for accidentally mixing poisons, setting fires, and blushing furiously at least once every class when she realized she had once again used the wrong ingredient and had been forced to ask him for more. She'd shown a startling talent for surpassing even her youngest brother at turning a simple Pepperup potion into a hissing, boiling poison that had managed to scorch the table- to see that she had managed to finally follow directions for once and make what she was supposed to be making was surprising indeed.

"Interesting," he drawled aloud, and the twitchy little first years at the table all jumped, as if his soft voice was the hiss of the basilisk. "Miss Weasley, you seem to have actually mixed a concoction that does not spell injury for whatever unfortunate soul wanders upon it. I would congratulate you, but not spelling injury and fulfilling its intended purpose are still quite far apart from each other on the spectrum."

It was more to provoke a reaction than to lash out at a student who had, one way or another, annoyed him, because he was intrigued. And distracted or no, this girl was jumpy like a mouse. Being spoken directly to by a teacher, whether it was a compliment, chastisement, or even an insult, had never failed to make her cheeks go as red as her hair. She'd now look down into her lap and mumble or squeak something and he'd have to resist- or not resist- the urge to compare her to a mouse out loud.

Ginny Weasley did not blush, however. She did not flinch, she did not look away, and she did not hide. Instead, she simply sat there. His comment had gotten a few token laughs out of the Slytherins, and those, too, did not make her blush. She just sat there.

He was just beginning to wonder if he'd caused some kind of mental breakdown- oh, would Albus love to hear that one- when the girl raised her head to meet his gaze, looked him right in the eye, and smiled.

"Thank you, Professor Snape, sir. I'll try to do better next time."

His heart stopped.

The Slytherins' quiet laughter vanished like someone had choked them. The other timid Gryffindors at her table all whipped around to stare at Ginny, their mouths hanging open in shock, like a simple response was more than noteworthy; it was positively heroic.

And Severus, for his part, stared right back- entirely frozen and absolutely shocked.

Her eyes...

They screamed power at him, throbbing, black, raw power. Two deep wells of endless strength that seethed like boiling pools, bright brown gleaming so brightly with the force of her own magic that that was enough to hold him down. He staggered, the gaze itself stealing every breath from his lungs and snapping up any strength there was left in his body like a ravenous snake. Just two single eyes with the power to pin him down and rake his very soul-

This sweeping sensation of an emotion that had his heart racing and left his blood cold, it left him short of breath and stunned, suddenly open and exposed like he'd been ripped apart for the entire world to see- true, heartstopping fear

Not in twelve years, not since overdrawn hoods and alabaster masks and a piercing gaze that brought those of weaker will to their knees, and his left arm burned and a simple look was all it took-

A reflex if there ever was one, tentative fingers found and clung to the cliff top of sanity and safety. Ginny's eyes burned bright into his own and he stared back without comprehension, without even thought. A harried rush of whispers trickled around his ears, hissing around him, hissing Occlumency, Occlumency, Occlumency and he responded, without even realizing how or what he'd done until he could breathe again, and think, and was not yet paralyzed by fear, and suddenly he realized that he was just standing there in the middle of his classroom, being stared down by an eleven year old girl, and that the oppressive, sheer weight of her magic was enough to crush him.

Ginny Weasley smiled innocently up at him.

Not in twelve years...

Slowly, and visibly shaken, Severus somehow managed to force his mouth to quirk up in a habitual sneer. He couldn't feel his legs, and the fact that he managed to turn away without falling amazed him.

Eye contact broken- and thus, went her devastating hold.

It was like a rush of color and sound, sensation all flooding back, and suddenly he was standing back on his own two feet again in his own dungeon. It was cold here, and dim, the air heavy with the scent of noxious fumes, and damp, too, and abruptly Severus descended from the mental cage Voldemort had constructed and hit the ground again with a bone-bruising burst of reality.

That may have been Ginny Weasley's face-

but that was the Dark Lord's eyes.

Lord Voldemort was sitting right behind him.

Severus reached uneasily to touch the Dark Mark still branded into his left arm. It burned subtly, a faint thrill of foreign energy beating underneath his skin, excited, and he let his fingers trail away down his dark sleeve with a furthering sense of unease.

Just as with Quirrell... I can still feel it, as if he is close- but it is never as strong as it once was.

And that burst of Legilimency- that was merely a taste of what the Dark Lord could do with only his mind. He had felt the full force of it before, a deadly, prying interrogation that sought to rip apart every childhood secret and every hidden thought he had ever possessed. It felt like searing, red hot claws sinking down deep into his consciousness.

What the Dark Lord was capable of- and what had happened just now-

It did not run as deep. It had searched for no specific memory or recollection... no, instead it was simply there, reading the present mind and seeing what it held. If Severus hadn't faced that very gaze before- if hadn't spent so long waiting for the moment when the Dark Lord would pry into his mind and this time find what he was looking for, so on edge even the slightest probe into his head set off alarm bells and struck like an invasion- he would not have even noticed it.

That realization was troubling indeed, and he returned slowly to his desk, keeping his gaze down lest it find another trap lying in wait, cloaked as innocent, smiling brown eyes.

It was possible that the Dark Lord had possessed Ginny. Not through the same methods as with Quirrell, because Quirrell had remained dominant then- the Dark Lord merely a passive force that had slowly poisoned every thought, twisting every intention, and blending every difference until there had been no difference. This was not that.

Advanced Legilimency... Severus frowned. It was theoretically possible that he had forced his way into Ginny's head so deeply that he had gained complete control. He would not put that past the Dark Lord.

At the height of his power, that would've been possible- but now? When he was but a phantom? He shook his head slowly at himself. Even Voldemort's power had its limits.

But then how is he doing it?

This could not be the Dark Lord- his mind refused to grasp that, refused to accept that just ten feet away from was Voldemort himself. His heart beat quicker, thrumming weak and uneasy fueled by what he could not even deny was terror.

This was Voldemort.

And no coincidence, surely, had found the Dark Lord in his classroom.

The incongruity of it, the sheer impossibility- it struck him hard, and he shook his head, fighting the urge to deny that the Dark Loud had appeared before him specifically through anything other than sheer coincidence. Denial was a dangerous dance, one that could very easily end in death if he took a single wrong step.

But given that Voldemort is sitting just ten feet away from me- that is already a very probable finish.

Severus touched his left arm uneasily again. The skin prickled there, and, unbidden, his eyes leaped up to watch her again.

Ginny was back at hard work on her potion, her head down, dark red hair hanging between the two of them like a curtain. Normally he would've snapped at her to tie it back, because the habit made him waspish indeed- children setting their own heads on fire did get old. But self preservation was a far more important instinct than barking at first years now.

Right now, she was just that- another one of the idiot first years working questionably hard on a potion, her head down and her hands busy with ingredients.

She certainly looked like no dark lord he knew.

But looks were quite deceiving indeed, and when even the sight of her left him with a dry mouth and fingers shaking even as they reached for his wand, he knew this was not something he could face alone.

Not again.

---

Just what he was supposed to do, with the Weasley girl or with Voldemort himself, Severus wasn't very sure. She didn't seem very intent on causing mayhem right at the moment, so escorting the first years up to Astronomy without action seemed both perfectly plausible and the safest way to go. There was little he could, with the girl planted firmly in a crowd of children. Surely he was Voldemort's target- what had happened when their eyes had met could have been no accident. Getting as far away from the Dark Lord as possible was his only goal.

And if that was not the truth- if, somehow, the Dark Lord wasn't aware of what had happened the moment their eyes had locked- if had not been intentional- if it was truly possible that the Dark Lord had slipped into Ginny's mind without him filtering anywhere into the equation... if Voldemort or whatever it was that was in her head thought he has still unknown, then he couldn't afford to not take that advantage.

It was ironic, he thought wryly, that even the thought of confronting the Dark Lord once again had suddenly left him petrified.

He hardly knew why, either. Terrible sentimentalists, those Gryffindors had their fool hearted bravery, to the point of stupidity and self sacrifice, even, while he had his own unique brand of simply not caring. He'd reconciled himself with the fact that he was going to die the day he'd turned spy against Voldemort. That profession had a terribly short life expectancy.

Then Voldemort was suddenly gone, and he was still alive, but Lily...

Again- not caring was a very simple alternative. It was easier, too.

So why the thought of facing whatever lay hidden in Ginny's head was this truly frightening, he had no idea. Because he could not deny it. He had not felt such a petty emotion as fear in years, and this, fear of what could only be for himself, in even longer. But the shakiness in his hands... the slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a knot yanked tighter and tighter until he was nauseous and could not breathe- and he just couldn't stop shaking-

There was no mistaking it. This was fear.

It disgusted him, but even as he tried to cast it off, all he could see in his mind's eye was the Dark Lord pacing on his tail. Patient, at complete ease- and very, vey deadly.

Needless to say, he led his class up through the corridors in complete silence.

Severus had just swept onto the third floor, so close to the final destination that he had just allowed to begin himself to believe he was home free, when a very sweet, even sickeningly so, frighteningly innocent voice spoke up from behind.

"Professor? I need to use the loo."

A vein throbbed in his forehead, and if that girl hadn't been one Ginny Weasley, he would've seriously considered hexing her so she wet herself on the spot.

He still considered it, just not for as long as he would have otherwise.

It seemed that his best chance was indeed nonexistent. Voldemort was either here for him in the first place, or the Dark Lord was aware that he had not gone unnoticed. There would be no escaping silently to find help elsewhere.

If he knows my true allegiances... somehow, if he has found out...

If that was truly what had happened, then the killing curse would be a swift and merciful end. The Dark Lord was anything but, however. Severus swallowed dryly, his throat suddenly rough like sandpaper.

The sudden hush of silence in the few whispers that had been going on behind him said the rest of the class expected some type of venomous or sadistic response to the request, and he was going to have to force himself to deliver. Maintain normalcy, if at all possible- until he could no longer.

Severus, taking in a deep breath, slowly turned around to behold a straight line of very anxious, very takenaback faces from the huddles of Gryffindors- and very takenaback, very eager faces from his Slytherins.

And there, right at the head, that empty, smiling face, and those two dark, terrible, waiting eyes.

He'd been ready for it this time, but so had she, and just as he reached in to rip apart the layers hiding what lay behind her mind an iron wall slammed down before his fingertips, leaving him grasping at nothing.

Her smile widened.

I could tear my way in by force... if I so desired to be devastatingly obvious...

The other classes milled around him, busy and bustling, somehow none louder than the terrible silence and emptiness behind the dark witch's expectant gaze.

He had only met two people who could defend against Legilimency so quickly; so absolutely.

And unless Albus Dumbeldore had taken to possessing students-

There was no mistaking it.

This was Voldemort.

"Professor?"

It seemed he had much less time than he had thought.

"Yes, yes, very well," he snapped, and the trembling students all jumped like it was the crack of a whip. He glanced about the hallway when the hush of frightened whispers was broken by a loud, boisterous, and grandstanding man dressed like a vomit-inducing rainbow who swept around the corner, gesturing like the lunatic he was and decrying the threats that had him escorting his classes through the corridors. "Lockhart!" he called brusquely, swallowing back every instinct that told him to not involve the idiot even if necessary. Surely it would be simpler to just send the others on their way...

But it was too late, and Lockhart had stopped in mid self-gratifying lecture to turn and face him, still beaming. "Oh! Severus! What a pleasure-"

"Can you take the rest of my class upstairs for me? I have a certain... business to take care of with Miss Weasley." Unbidden again, his eyes flicked darkly in his adversary's direction. They locked with Ginny's again, this time his own Occlumency shield already very firmly in place, and they met each other's gazes both without flinching. Her own wicked version of a smile was born again, bright, as if accepting the challenge.

Oh, she knew he knew, all right.

Apparently, Lockhart failed to notice a thing.

"Oh, ho ho! In a spot of anxiety, aren't you there, Severus? I bet you were glad to run into me! Not to worry, not to worry. I'll protect your students for you. You won't need to handle the monster."

His fingers twitched towards his wand, and he spent a very brief, but very pleasurable moment imagining Lockhart facing off against a basilisk.

"Come now, class! Don't be scared; no heir of Slytherin stands a chance against me..."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny's mouth twitch. Her fingers spasmed, it looked like, just moved only a little.

Lockhart tripped in a spectacular display of flailing arms, flying books, and blood, when his nose smashed up against the flagstones. More of the students who hadn't already seemed apprehensive looked back at him and Ginny longingly, and it was clear that they would much rather have him as their escort than the idiot currently nursing a very sore face.

If only they knew how much safer they are with him.

"Come on," he muttered, turning away, though not before ensuring to preserve the memory of Lockhart being sent flying. That was one for the pensieve.

If he lived long enough to use it.

Ginny led the way into the dilapidated bathroom that had led him to avoid this entire corridor when he was a student. The ghost that haunted it was always wailing and sobbing veritable floods... it would be deserted aside from the dead, and that, he suspected, was the Dark Lord's intention. Dramatic flair may have been his style, but perhaps not if it involved trying to fight a hallway full of teachers and students right under Dumbledore's nose. No- the deserted area would provide the perfect location for murder.

The word sent another chill down his spine, and Severus instantly regretted thinking it.

An image flashed before his eyes, a darkly constructed picture of himself, spreadeagled and very much dead on the bathroom floor- and Ginny standing over him.

Ginny, tiny, innocuous Ginny Weasley in every respect- but then, there was her eyes. Two bright, scarlet orbs that glowed crimson in the darkness, as bright red as the deep pool of his own blood that had replaced the water on the floor.

He cursed his own dark imagination.

His real adversary, a far less foolishly cliche picture of a dark lord, walked slowly and steadily in front of him, her wand, hanging loosely in her hand, fingers deceptively at ease around it. She herself appeared entirely, horribly calm, her footsteps echoing as she moved at a leisurely pace. Water drip dropped around them from leaky faucets, and there was a belated sniffle from Mrytle, as if resenting their intrusion.

The slim, tiny redhead stood silently before the sink, her back to him. He saw her pale reflection in the mirror; her eyes were hooded, downcast; bangs hanging over them to obscure just enough that neither one of them could delve into the mind. The fiery red of her hair turned her ashen complexion almost sickly, a chalky sort of pale, and her white lips were flat and expressionless.

His fingers slowly found his own wand.

"Pretenses are so inconvenient, Professor. Let us revert to the truth," she said softly. "It is much simpler."

Severus's throat was dry. It took him a second to find his voice, and his wand suddenly did not feel like all that good of a defense. One uneasy step carried him backwards. "...Quite."

The corners of Ginny's mouth lifted into a very slight smile.

"Prote-"

"Expulso!"

Like a snake, she struck.

His shield expanded with such a concussive force he himself was blown back off his feet. Severus landed, gasping, and barely ducked his head in time from the sudden shattering of glass and the flying shards of stone broken by his spell, a violent spray of water arcing out from the already cracked sink and dousing them both in ice. But his shield met Ginny's curse in mid air and the two collided with a blast that left her spell inert as the girl spun- and she was no longer the Ginny Weasley that he knew.

Her features were suddenly twisted and alive, transformed in a split second from dull blank to murderous, the smile from before only growing wider and brighter to beam with excitement. Long hair curled around her like fire, twisted strands of orange that trailed behind almost in slow motion, still spinning even when she'd stopped and at last settling into place long after that. It was hot and red around eyes that were suddenly bright and gleaming with a truly wicked glee.

Her wand was now raised high, above her head and pointed right at him in a gesture that was entirely raw, unrestrained power.

The timid first year who still held her wand like it was about to explode, stared at her own feet, and spent more time blushing than thinking, had vanished entirely.

The sparks from her curse hissed in mid air, crackling on the edges of his shield as if trying to worm their way in. They were all that moved.

Like a light, they fizzled out. Red and yellow snapped out into nothing, bright sparks that hovered, suspended in the air, drifting slowly to the floor like a feather on the wind, touched the puddles below and vanished. And in their wake, the two of them stood- the Dark Lord, for, truly, that was all he could see, still and deadly, coiled tension and power hidden and still like a serpent's. His smirk grew.

Achingly slow, Voledmort's feet started to move, the Dark Lord slipping into an easy circle that traced right around him. Severus followed his lead, and if his own feet were numb and his legs were shaking, badly, he ignored it.

They circled each other silently. Their pace was agonizingly slow, set by Voldemort himself, and Severus merely followed. The heartstopping fear was back, and it left every shallow breath he took trapped in his throat.

He was about to fight Voldemort.

And fear, the blasted, pesky thing, was not letting him forget it.

"Apparently, Hogwarts has upped their standards in the past fifty years," she murmured at last. Her eyes never left his own. Another piece of the ceiling cracked, and she continued in her circle, not breaking stride or steady speed without even once looking towards it. The thing split, cracking and metal joints groaning, and it fell so close it rustled her hair. Her smile twitched just a little broader. "Legilimency... and I'd only just started to learn Occulmency. You even blocked my spell before I'd cast it. Impressive."

Her voice- so much the same, but also so very different. Now it was a confident snarl conveyed in a young girl's still developing tones, threatening and intimidation sprinkled in amongst a voice that still cracked and squeaked. Careful and elegant, but so supremely confident.

There was no serpentine hiss at the end of those words, no flick of a forked tongue- but he recognized it all the same.

"Do we know each other? Is that how you predicted what I'd do?"

Severus blocked any hint of surprise from appearing on his face, but it was a near thing.

The Dark Lord did not know who he was?

But, that would mean...

He moved along their set path, left his expression perfectly calm and unreadable, but his mind was racing. Either this was the Dark Lord, but his memory was not intact, this was not the Dark Lord, but there instead existed another dark wizard so powerful the strength of his mere gaze was enough to root him to the spot, or nothing he had experienced, here or earlier in his classroom, was reality.

Option two was most improbable, not to mention the most terrifying. He scratched it off the mental list.

Voldemort's smile dimmed slightly, as if he was put off by the continued silence. He looked decidedly like a put out school girl, and, somehow, this was even more frightening. "Of course, you may not even know yourself. You seem young... I doubt you would recognize me as I am now."

An errant curse, almost like an absentminded afterthought, snaked through the tip of Ginny's wand. It hung there for a moment, suspended in mid air, a bright, glittering little thing, glowing a very faint green. It floated there, gentle and at ease, looking almost like a firefly.

Then it shot towards him like a bullet out of a gun.

The collision was earsplitting, and the hole it left in the wall to his left was a big as a cannonball. It and his robes both smoked.

The Dark Lord continued to look bored.

His mouth even drier than before, Severus tightened slick fingers around his wand and stayed back, on edge. He had barely managed to deflect it- but Voldemort wasn't even trying. Just distracted little afterthoughts that transformed into malicious curses with every flick of his wand.

Voldemort was just playing with him.

"You don't even attack me when provoked?" The Dark Lord sniffed contemptuously. "You must know me. Wizards are so easily prone to aggression these days. But fear, now- that is a powerful motivator." Another spell crawled out the end of Ginny's wand. This one, a bright orange ball that spun so fast it was a blur to the naked eye, wasted no time, and it burst to life along the floor, slithering along a violent trail of crackling flames that erupted from nothing and grew like a monster, like the water was oil and Voldemort's spell was the spark that would ignite. Severus followed it with his own spell without flinching, holding his ground as the wall flared in front of him with an oppressive heat and dragging a trail of water after the fiery path, returning the flames to dust just as quick as they had been born.

The curse ended swiftly with a mere flick of the other's wand, his eyes never leaving Severus's. Whatever lurked behind them now lay hidden and seething, a poisonous mix of rage and skill that he would not delve into again.

"Really, now... this is such a boring duel. I was hoping for more of a fight." The mouth twitched up into another slight grin. "But if even the name Voldemort is enough to stun the people of this time into fear and inaction-!" He laughed quietly, short little chuckles that lacked true mirth or joy. His smile stretched wider, although perhaps this time, he was baring his teeth, because there was nothing pleasant about it. "That does please me..."

The wealth of information in just those few sentences... Severus blocked another curse, and then another after that, two jets of black magic tossed towards him with such ease it was eerie. This was Voldemort, but not the one that had returned to this school only last year. This Voldemort knew nothing of him, and spoke of his own accomplishments and name like they were owned by another.

He gasped silently, his heart pounding.

If this Dark Lord was not the Dark Lord- but another one, from the a different time-

This Voldemort is a memory.

Everything clicked into place.

Fifty years ago, the Chamber's opening- that had been Voldemort. Voldemort was the Heir. And now it was the same. Something he'd left behind, probably here at Hogwarts- Ginny must've found it, that was how it had latched onto her- he had opened the Chamber through her again. There weren't two heirs. It had been, and was still, him.

This was Voldemort as he had been fifty years ago.

Even that knowledge did not loosen the fist that was squeezing tight around his lungs, cutting off every breath short, and the terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that was very definitely fear was still not receding.

Mrytle soared over their heads, wailing about disturbed privacy, and Voledmort's eyes gleamed again. They trailed after the ghost for a second, watching her with some sort of sense of accomplishment, and his smile grew. "I killed her, you know," he said quietly. "The mudblood ghost. I killed her. She was one of my first." A strange, innocent reverence. Voldemort's eyes were bright with a memory, and the smile grew distant, as if he was reliving the joy of that very moment. "...Or," he paused, and his smile grew slightly, "is that already common knowledge today?"

Severus watched the disturbing light behind his eyes shine a little brighter, and he stepped slowly in their predesigned path. "It is not," he answered, just as delicately. "But I knew of it."

Voldemort's expression brightened subtly. "Ah, so you do know me!"

"...We were once acquainted, yes. But you died many years ago." And my loyalty ended even before that.

"Death? No... death would be absolute." Voldemort shook his head slightly, then started to grin. He ducked his head, shoulders suddenly shaking, and long red hair swished out again to obscure the pale, young face. A shaky breath later, and then a startled laugh broke forth, a sudden chuckle that was high-pitched with mirth. "Death?!" His shoulders trembled again, shaking with the force of laughter. "Death... ah, I assure you, I have no intentions of letting something so petty and mundane as death intervene in things. Death, indeed... that is something the weak-willed insects that populate this school have to worry about. Not I. Lord Voldemort... a thing like death?!"

Voldemort flung his arms out, mouth open wide in unrestrained laughter. He stood open before Severus with eyes that gleamed bright as a burning fire and the wicked laughter rose even louder until his entire frame was shaking with the force of it.

"You believe that the Dark Lord Voldemort can die? That I am as mortal a creature as the likes of you?! Ha! Ah ha, ha, ha! Mortality is for fools! I would bring you and this school down to its knees by the mere memory of me, but you, you and the precious Harry Potter, and Dumbledore, you all still do not see?! I am the Dark Lord! You can not kill me!"

A fired spell, and then another after it, two half hearted attempts to attack through the Voldemort's own glorified distraction; they were tossed aside like nothing more than bothersome insects.

His shaking steps carried him back just a little farther.

"Fear!" Voldemort cried, in pure ecstasy. "That's right! Fear me! You fear me! As you should, of course, as you should...!" The dark wizard advanced a step, then another, and he wordless waved in his hand in more of a graceful flick than a spell- but the sheer force of it was astounding. Severus's feet lifted right off the ground and he was carried back to slam right into the wall, flattened back with such strength the hard smack of the back of his head on the wall left him dizzy and unable to even see, but the Dark Lord's footsteps rang loudly in his head as the man stalked further ahead- metallic smacks echoing in the blur and hissing cries of victory coming at him from all sides until Voldemort was everywhere.

"You are nothing here. Even as a memory am I still victorious... and through this girl I am no mere memory. Soon I will be even more, and then who will stop me?" A contemptuous chuckle that echoed jarringly in the sickening blur. "Dumbledore? He was too weak to stop me fifty years ago! Time only softens the soul that is too weak to seek another vessel. This Chamber- Salazar's basilisk- it is only the beginning of what I can do... and you, my friend, have the great fortune of being here to witness it. Perhaps even you will be the snake's first true victim in fifty years!"

His vision cleared just enough for the black that was Voldemort's wand to twist even closer, the force pinning him back against the wall pushing even harder, so thick now his chest could not even rise to breathe. Voldemort let out another low chuckle and Severus tried to gasp but not even a trickle of air got through, and the Dark Lord took another step forward, wand rising until the hot tip rested in the hollow of his throat.

"Oh, but you- you're the Slytherin head, right... Ginny positively hates you, you see. Talked about you all the time. Oh, Snape was so mean to Harry today, he gave him detention!" Voldemort's voice turned sour and mocking, and the wand jabbed him uncomfortably hard again. "I hate him so much! Harry didn't do anything him but the git's just awful to Harry!"

Another gasping breath that wasn't a breath at all-

No air at all, he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think-

I CAN'T BREATHE!

"Harry, Harry, Harry... it was always that Potter boy with her! As if he were something special!"

Voldemort spat the last word out like it was a poison and Severus wheezed, weak and terrified. He head was spinning and his heart was beating so fast it might just leap out of his chest but every gasp he took wasn't getting him any air at all.

Darkness grew, a black cloud encroaching in from all sides. It sucked him down into a venomous sea of nothing- and there was still no air...

"Special, indeed..." The pressure on his throat vanished, and whatever the Dark Lord said next was lost in a haze of relief.

The blood pounded back into his head and limbs, and pure, sweet air filled his throat and his burning lungs so great that it hurt. He gasped in another breath, then another after that, wheezing in great sucks of air as his chest heaved and his vision spun, twirling back from a dying mass of non distinct shapes and greys back into the light again. His head pounded and his heart hammered in his chest, but he could breathe again, wonderful, precious air, and for a moment, not even the Dark Lord's presence eclipsed that fact.

"...boy, as if he accomplished anything himself... but they won't even say my name for fear of it..." Voldemort was muttering, wet footsteps the sound of one that was pacing back and forth. Severus blinked blearily; the bottom of swishing black robes wavered into view. "But he will die with my basilisk, yes- let us see what the wizarding world's hero does against that!"

Severus gasped again, limbs trembling with the rush of dizzying physical relief that still prevailed now with every breath that was not choked off. His head dropped as much was allowed, sagging against his chest with arms still forcibly flung out and pinned to the wall with even more force than if the Dark Lord had driven nails through his palms. The oppressive weight holding him down had not receded enough for him to truly get in even one deep breath; every time his chest tried to rise it was cut short.

Reduced to weak, shallow gasps, Severus slowly raised his eyes to look through the fringe of his hair at Voldemort again.

The Dark Lord turned in his pacings again, then stopped on a dime. Long, pale fingers stroked almost lovingly over the grip of the wand, thumb moving up and down in a careful caress, and the tip twitched towards him as if aching to set off another curse. "But you," Voldemort muttered quietly, "you..." He abruptly spun, robes and red hair flaring out in a fast expanding swirl, impossibly dark eyes rising to meet his again. "What faith your world puts in Harry Potter... I do not see him come here to save you! To honestly believe a mere child could be the death of me- but where is your world's savior now?!"

"I can promise you that I am no worshiper of that insolent Potter boy."

Voldemort fell into a shocked silence- cut off, mid rant.

Severus forged on- each sentence was a fight, every word ragged, breath failing him so often he kept having to stop to gasp for air. But the fraying thread that was his self control had snapped.

"He was no savior of mine. The boy is loathsome and arrogant, and his survival was through mere chance." His voice crawled into a sneer, Severus unable to help habitual hatred from slipping in now. "You are right, My Lord, if he were here now, you would have already killed him. He is incompetent with all but the very most basic of spells. That boy is lucky and nothing more."

Voldemort's smile returned. He looked up at him in interest now, and the pressure on his chest eased up a little more. "Ah... so you are different, then. You sound like a true Slytherin at last. If that is as such- then, perhaps you would appreciate more than pretty speeches. The Chamber... that is what I came here to do, after all- you just intervened. Tell me, Professor- how have you liked my work thus far?" Voldemort gave another soft laugh. The dark wizard turned again with a black swirl of his robes, motions fast and erratic. He glided away from him to face the sink once again, the same sink that had been nearly blasted apart by the initial strikes and reached out an affectionate hand, fine fingers curling slightly to rub along the faucet. "Five years, it took me to find this place... another fifty for me to return. Five years to find what centuries of the others could not. I think that is a victory still. But, there are always more mudbloods to be slaughtered- and blood traitors, too, like this girl herself. My work is far from finished. What would you say to a front row seat for the return of the monster of Salazar Slytherin?"

Voldemort's eyes found his in the mirror, honestly curious and inquisitive, and Severus swallowed. He didn't answer, fingers twitching helplessly for his wand, and the Dark Lord frowned.

"What- no eagerness? I admit, it is a dangerous sport to spectate. But it is truly glorious to see! Just one single look, and then-!" Voldemort sighed again in ecstasy.

Talking in silences was a deadly art, but when any wrong word could spell death, it was often the safest, and one Severus had perfected long ago. He held still and quiet, not that he had much choice in the matter, watching with growing apprehension as Voldemort turned back around to face him- his dark eyes now wide.

"Still, nothing? No..." Voldemort's smile vanished, and the light, easy grip on his wand suddenly tightened. The pressure pinning him back against the wall suddenly returned, the once slackening force oppressive and heavy as iron once again. It knocked the wind out of him and tossed his head back against the wall with a resounding metallic smack!, and again his vision blurred and his head rang with the sound of the Dark Lord stalking forward like a predatory snake, slithering towards its helpless prey.

"No- you are not one of those people, are you? The ones that actually think the mudbloods are worthy?!"

Again- there were no words. Severus wasn't even able to talk if he had wanted to.

But a defiant glare was answer enough, for Voldemort.

"You would defend the mudbloods of this school? A noble Slytherin... protecting them?"

First he was incredulous; first he was disbelieving, but it only took the space of a second for that to spiral away and be taken over by the Dark Lord's rage. His mouth twitched into a vicious snarl, dark brown eyes narrowing to thin silts reminiscent of the snake he would become, absolutely no effort given to disguise his revulsion and anger. "You would protect them! You are no different than any of the others, weak and spreading your arms to welcome all deformities and ruined monsters and creatures in to taint what we have created. What's next, giants? Werewolves? I am the next Salazar Slytherin! I am his heir! From the noblest and purest bloodline I descended, of the greatest wizard that has ever lived before me, but you would have me stand side by side as an equal with vermin. No- no! My basilisk for them- but you, I will kill myself. You who stands in the way of Salazar Slytherin's noble work- what affection is it that you hold for those worthless blood traitors and accidents that wormed their way into magic?! I see no waver in your resolve- would you even die to protect them?!"

Something in him broke.

That was all it took- one single question to slice clean through the tight thread that held him back in terror, and whatever masks he had picked up over the years- spy, the One Who Hates Harry Potter, the still Death Eater that was not to be trusted, all those bloody masks and the one that he held now that still whispered in his ear that he must not fight, because that would declare his true loyalties once and for all and thus ended his worth to the Light as a spy-

They all shattered.

One single question to suck up every last drop of fear there was.

In it's place was only fury, and it swept through him until he felt nothing else but the venomous urge to kill.

He had been asked that question once before.

It had been just as serious as it was now. The very real, very menacing threat of death waiting at the tailend of the wrong response, and there was no inclination then or now to give the answer that Voldemort wanted. Death as a threat or not- that did not change his answer.

Even the smallest of breaths an impossibility, his throat unable to produce anything more than a ragged croak, Severus still mouthed the answer. He formed the words slowly and deliberately, and then without hesitation he ripped down the shield that had kept the Dark Lord from seeing his mind and repeated them there.

Yes. I would die.

He saw Voldemort's red hair, and Lily's green eyes.

Yes.

That answer was an open defiance of Voldemort himself- and the Dark Lord took great offense at that indeed.

The magical hand squeezing around his throat tightened. The force was so vicious now even the slightest rise of chest was blocked and every breath of air was long gone. Voldemort still pressed harder and harder still, teeth bared into a terrible snarl and his entire form shaking with unconfined, seething, absolute rage as he tried to force Severus to give the answer he wanted.

Yes. I would die for her.

For the first time in twelve years, Severus found himself face to face with Lily's murderer- and realized there was absolutely nothing holding him back.

His own fury exploded.

Severus let out a scream, the anger coursing hot inside him until it could be held back no longer and Voldemort's bonds were nothing but a petty restriction to be flung aside like wet paper. The curse on him shattered with the force of the attack and his shield expanded again with power he had never held before, colliding against the Dark Lord with such strength he could hear his skull crack on the wall.

Severus drew himself up to his full height, rising from old defeat and gripping his wand with a steady hand. The fear was completely gone, and he looked on at the Dark Lord without even a hint of uncertainty, their positions suddenly and gloriously reversed. The pale girl stared back at him, eyes wide and disbelieving before they transformed back into a look that was truly boiling rage. Her lips pulled back to show bared teeth in an enraged denial, and she swept around and stood back up in a motion as fast as light, ready to fight again- but it didn't matter.

Dark Lord of fifty years ago or if this was Voldemort risen again right here and now- neither one left him trapped with fear.

He had nothing left to fear. He had already faced worse than death, and death was all Voldemort could do to him.

All that was left was fury.

"You killed her," he whispered. "You killed her."

And this time-

"You..."

-I-

"...killed her!"

will kill you!

"Sectumsempra!"

A swift block, a returned curse that rocketed over his shoulder so close it grazed his neck.

"Incendere!"

Another step forward.

"Expulso!"

Advancing on further, and the Dark Lord, on the retreat-

"Confringo!"

True fear glimmered in those eyes now, and he relished it, eating it up hungrily and forcing the Dark Lord further back.

You will die as she did-

but first you will know the pain I felt!

"CRUCIO!"

Voldemort hit the ground screaming.

Severus advanced another step, driving his wand forward. The power throbbing through is arm felt good, wonderful, and he drove the curse through even harder, sending it down to perforate through Voldemort's every last cell.

SUFFER!

The girl's body writhed terribly, wracked with one violent tremor after another, and Severus let his mouth contort into a poisonous grin. This felt good. Truly, honestly good. He stepped forward still, pouring every last bit of himself that there was into that one curse.

KNOW WHAT IT IS TO SUFFER!

The Dark Lord's back arched, spine curving beyond his control, mouth still open wide but no air remained to scream. Severus slashed viciously down through the air, relishing in the feel of the absolute control that coursed down through his wand arm, the power of the spell so close to being too much- but not yet.

The curse threatened to overwhelm him entirely but he relished in the danger. He moved another step forward, more and more of the magic flowing down through his arm and swelling inside of him until he shook with power, and Voldemort writhed in agony.

"Does it hurt?!" he cried. "Does it hurt, My Lord?!"

Screaming. Nothing but more and more screaming.

Severus grinned.

Voldemort twisted in miserable agony, head flung back against the floor, skin stretched over gaunt cheekbones with his mouth opened wide in a silent, long suffering scream. Severus slashed down viciously again, slicing the air with his wand like it was a sword, and the Dark Lord let out an earsplitting, bloodcurdling cry.

For Lily...

The tremors turned Voldemort onto his side, the tiny figure twitching into a miserable ball in the puddles on the floor. Another wicked twist of his wand garnered him croaked whimper, a desperate sort of wailing that both was unimaginable perfection and managed to do nothing but further incense him.

No torture could be enough. No matter how long he dragged out this curse or how intense he made the pain, it would never be enough.

Even if he stood here for the next twelve years and tortured Voldemort into madness without pause, it would mean nothing. It would not even match the pain that it had been to see Lily dead on the floor.

Justice? Revenge? The first was a wholly ridiculous idea to begin with. The second was simply impossible.

There was nothing he could do but stand here and torture Voldemort until oblivion.

Senselessly, purposelessly, and thoughtlessly.

There was another low, plaintive cry, the sound one of exhaustion and defeat, and Severus looked down after it to stare at his victim again.

He couldn't even see the face. The body lay limp and trembling on its side, mess of red hair all there was to distinguish her from any other, but instead of lying tame it was a tangled mess, a good portion of it floating in one of the dirty puddles that laced the floor. Every pained breath was laced with a whimper, the sound feminine and weak; not that of a Dark Lord but just a young girl.

He blinked, and suddenly, Ginny Weasley was sprawled in front of him, caught in the throes of torture- and Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

"EXPULSO!"

This time, the sharp collision of his head with the stone wall didn't hurt at all. No pain could eclipse the excruciating ache that lived deep in his chest, so deep, he almost wished to tear himself open, just to pull it out.

That one moment of weakness and failing will was all the Dark Lord had needed to break his control. A single second after full minutes of the Cruciatus Curse, and the tables had turned once again- but the crushing fear from earlier did not return.

The anger stayed, so much of it that he shook from head to toe and felt like nothing more than a vessel for unspeakable rage.

Was there nothing he could do?!

He stood right across from Lily's murderer- and he could do nothing but stare at him. What justice? What revenge? He could do nothing!

Slowly, the redhaired girl crumpled in a heap began to rise once more.

Voldemort was back again- no Ginny Weasley, just Voldemort, a dark slavemaster simply in the guise of a young girl with red hair. Curled up in the dirtied puddles like a broken defeat, but his eyes glinted with power, and on his face there was no trace of pain.

"Weak willed, you are... everyone in this school, weak willed..." Voldemort whispered, and he rose, first shakily to his knees, wand directed at him, and then he swept back up to his feet looking as if nothing had even happened at all. "Unworthy to cast those three curses- the power it gives, you could not possibly understand..."

Severus scowled at himself. Weak was right... a decade past and the Cruciatus Curse would've given him no pause, but now, he faltered simply because it didn't look like Voldemort? Weak indeed. Weak and pathetic.

Voldemort started to smile. One slow, easy smile that sat underneath two pools of unfathomable darkness. "But- you did mean it, in the beginning. You must really hate me, somewhere in there-"

Then, with the look of a man who had suddenly been hit by an epiphany, the Dark Lord froze. He stared back at Severus, eyes wide with the realization- and then suddenly, he let out a short, startled, burst of laughter.

Voldemort was laughing.

"No- don't tell me!" The Dark Lord managed, and his smile beamed even brighter, this time with true mirth. "That anger- that was for her- that was for your filthy mudblood! You hate me because of her!"

More laughter. Simple, grating, horrific laughter.

Severus could hardly breathe but for the rage.

"That's it! This is why you hate me! Ah, ha ha ha ha... I killed her- and you hate me for it!"

Voldemort sounded impossibly too gleeful.

Another curse rose to his lips, and this time, it was no Cruciatus.

He felt his wand grow hot in restrained power, and this time, no image of Ginny came to the Dark Lord's rescue.

"Kill me! If you can bring yourself to- kill me, then! If you hate me so much- I want to see you try and kill me!"

You wish to tempt me, My Lord...? When I am already on death's edge- you tempt me further still?

THEN I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT I CAN DO!

"Avada-"

"SEVERUS!"

Everything stopped.

The terrible darkness that was the killing curse that had been growing in his wand arm, throbbing with hate and begging to be released suddenly vanished without a trace, and Severus was left standing alone and pointing a wand at a laughing Voldemort with no will left to kill him.

"Severus," Lily's voice breathed in his ear again, "don't. Please."

But there was no Lily.

"Severus, that's not Voldemort... Please. Don't kill her."

But if he just closed his eyes...

"Please, Severus."

He could almost see her.

So close, so real, simply standing by his side as if she had never died at all. But he envisioned her weeping, the perfect figure that glowed in his mind crying unabashedly, the forest green of her eyes obscured by tears. She looked mournfully at his wand and his hand started to shake.

"Don't kill her, Severus. Please. I thought you changed... I thought you changed for me..."

Lily stepped closer to him, wet eyes back on his own now. He gasped, and it hurt.

Lily's warm fingers found his own, soft and warm and so very real. They squeezed tight.

There was no impression from a wedding ring, and that hurt in ways he had never imagined.

"Severus..."

His eyes snapped open, and Lily vanished.

There was no warm hand in his. Instead his left hand was fisted in on itself, unbearably cold and extraordinarily empty. Lily was not by his side; there was not one at all.

Just him, a laughing Voldemort, and his own shaking wand.

Just the bitter whispers of his own conscience, then.

As Lily.

Because even I know that she could stop me more than anything or anyone else could.

And some subconscious part of him, some tiny, removed part that still saw this girl as Ginny Weasley, had thrown her up to put her and her voice into his mind because that was the only thing that would've made him stop.

Severus felt sick, and when he blinked, his eyes burned. It took him a second to realize they were wet.

"What is this? Tears, now?! You are too weak willed!" Voldemort crowed, victorious.

But all Severus could see was Ginny, just an innocent child that he was being asked to senselessly murder.

One more death would end nothing and bring no peace. Not even peace of mind or heart to him.

"Can you not even do this for her? Or did you not love her enough?!"

Severus blinked again; another wet tear slipped out and burned against his cheek. Even if he had wanted to answer, he could not say even a single word.

Voldemort laughed again, and he raised his wand once more, a deceptively simple gesture. "You are too weak willed... you fools and your foolish love... it gives you nothing! Nothing! And now you will die for it!"

Voldemort slashed his wand through the air like a sword, and with a bright flash, the motion sliced straight through his robes and down through to his stomach. The blow was thin and precise, and the mark had been drawn so fast that until the dark blood had begun to seep through onto his black cloak, there was no pain- but the Dark Lord wasn't stopping to let him admire his handiwork.

"Incendere! Levicorpus! Imbriferum Tectum! Caedo! Expulso! Caedo! Incendere!"

Severus ducked and weaved on autopilot, watching from what felt like a great distance as shots of light and concussive blasts echoed throughout the room and he blocked everything he could and dodged what he could not. It was maelstrom of heavy debris and dangerous curses mixed together to become a storm of chaos, a delicate waltz for him between jets of light and chunks of metal where every light step he took was precise and every move he made was perfectly crafted as a response to Voldemort's. He drifted without comprehension, twisting between fired curses and drawing out shields to hunker behind but never once finding it in him to attack the Dark Lord back.

"Incendere-

"Aguamenti-"

There is no point to this...

The hopeless spell, the response that was more because it was scripted of him and less because he truly desired to fight back, it was just another seed to the rage that encapsulated Ginny. There was a scream of fury, another cry of Caedo that managed to penetrate both the metal fixture that was his shield and his outer robes but not his skin, and he took flight again, running for another defense while he racked his mind for some spell- any spell- strong enough to hold the Dark Lord that wouldn't hurt Ginny.

Blasted morals...

I am going to get myself killed because I can't bring myself to hurt this stupid Weasley girl!

"Crucio!"

This time, it was the Dark Lord's curse.

The scream was on the edge; more like a furious instinct than an intentional curse, an enraged paroxysm, and it showed, when the spell brought him to his knees but there was no dizzying attack of excruciating agony. It hurt, but he could still think through the pain- this was a weak-willed Unforgiveable if he'd ever seen one.

The Dark Lord- weak willed?

No...

It was Ginny!

She wasn't gone yet- she had to be still aware somehow- and she was fighting Voldemort's control.

It explained why Voldemort hadn't used Avada Kedavra- he couldn't. He couldn't use the killing curse as long as Ginny was still alive.

For Weasley to be able to dull his power this much- incredible!

There was an enraged scream of Crucio! again, and when Severus raised his head, the Dark Lord was suddenly no longer focused on him- his eyes had gone blank, features tense and torn, wand still held aloft to keep the curse going but not an ounce of concentration was going towards it.

Ginny was fighting back- and she was putting up one hell of a struggle.

Voldemort was caught up in a battle of wills with the fighting little girl inside him- and that meant he was turning a blind eye to the external fight.

Now was his chance.

"Quattor Compesco!"

Ginny's ankles were suddenly engulfed with a thick vine that grew right out of the stone floor, the thing twisted like a rope so tightly and forcefully around them that she lost her footing, and if he heard a crack that was her ankle breaking as her body fought to stay upright, he didn't feel the least bit guilty whatsoever. The girl fell back and the same vines grew out of the floor again to grab her by the wrists, tying her down to the floor with a vicious yank without room for her to move. The Dark Lord could've incinerated those bonds in an instant- but the Dark Lord's attention was currently elsewhere.

"I'll kill you," he hissed, but not at Severus, "I'll kill you, girl! You dare defy me, you dare to resist me... I will kill you... I will crush your soul from inside here and I will take this body, you, you-"

A muttered disarming spell sent Ginny's wand flying before Voldemort could force his way ill will through it again, and Severus opened his mouth again, another spell on his lips- then swore quietly.

He knew more than one spell that would force Voldemort out of Ginny's head. Assuming possession by a memory worked the same way as through a real person, he could force the Dark Lord out of there in seconds.

But, damn it, that was Dark Magic, and Dark Magic was bad because it would probably kill Ginny in the process.

If Voldemort didn't succeed in killing her himself.

...Damn conscience.

Lily's parting curse, as it was...

Once again, Severus stood, panting, over the prone and helpless form of his enemy- and he could see only Ginny Weasley.

His world refused to correct itself and see the dark wizard behind her mind.

Severus, frustrated, trapped, and utterly helpless, was left with only one option.

He closed his eyes.

Not Lily herself, not even her voice was there in the darkness this time- only himself and his own twisted thoughts.

Do you not know right from wrong, his own voice taunted, or do you honestly require a ghost to tell you when and when to kill?

Severus, feeling slightly sick, opened his eyes.

Ginny, still lost within herself, gave another low, plaintive sort of wail.

She was very definitely dead if he did nothing.

She was very definitely dead if he tried to leave and seek help now. Ginny Weasley would not last that long against the Dark Lord himself.

She was almost certainly dead if he used magic to force Voldemort out of her head. Such a violent expulsion of a fighting soul... it was almost impossible that she would survive it.

Ginny's only chance was to win on her own.

That, of course, he thought sourly, was truly impossible.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, carefully fingering his wand.

Ginny may not have been able to win on her own- but Voldemort had said it himself. He was not yet the master of Legilimency he would become. What he possessed in terms of raw power, he still lacked in skill.

Skill that I have.

He could help Ginny.

...Of course, now that he had realized that- he simply did not have a choice.

Severus stood silently for a moment, simply looking down at the shaking body curled up by his feet once again.

He cursed the conscience that said he could not stand idly by and let her die.

Severus dropped to his knees, held the red head still on the bathroom floor, and purposefully forced himself into her mind.

Chaos. Utter chaos.

This was no swirl of memories or emotions where a delicate hand could reach out and pick one for his choosing. This was a battle and felt like it.

Ginny was screaming and wailing somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, cornered there by a victorious and dark teen that had uncontested rein over the rest of her, his young, still inexperienced hands crafting her to his terrible will. A drift of silver past caught him and pulled him along back towards Ginny, and another soon followed it, and both of them made him feel shame, and embarrassment, and then he was shaking with anger at those infernal Weasley twins-

-"Mom, I really didn't do it, it was Fred and George! They did it! Moooooom!"

"Ginny, they weren't in the house; stop lying! You're grounded for two weeks!"

From behind their mother, snickering, the twins both winked at her-

"Take your memories and die!"

More silvery trickles of a past he didn't remember swept past him, and Severus yanked himself back to the current time. Care had to be taken in someone else's mind, lest he become lost in memories he didn't belong in.

Recentering himself, Severus watched warily as moving pictures of a redhaired family floated past, and the stream both thickened and began to part naturally around him. It flowed on past, down towards its target like water rushing down a hill.

Voldemort was trying to bury Ginny- crush her with the weight of her own miserable memories.

Severus reached out with his probe, grasping on to the tail end of one of the memories and letting it carry him back towards the other spirit here in this mind. The despairing screams got louder, but the mind no less tumultuous and chaotic; bursts of ice and cold, terrible power here, flashes of fire and hot, uncontrolled raging there there, Ginny thrashing and fighting on one end, the Dark Lord holding everything controlled in his fist on the other.

He fought back with what he could, hurtling memories back away from Ginny's direction, but this was not his fight. He couldn't save someone else's mind.

"Weasley!" he called hopelessly, infusing his voice into her tumultuous mind, but only Voldemort heard him, and Voldemort laughed.

"Ginny!" he tried, because if he wanted to reach her, he would have to try something other than her last name as awkward as it felt on his tongue, but Voldemort was still the only one to hear him.

The memory carried him on a bit farther before swirling to a screeching halt. It'd found what Voldemort had sent it to, and it haunted her now, circling over its prey with a malicious intent so powerful it nearly shocked him. Severus dropped away from it, wading carefully through a sea of redheaded faces now peppered with Potter's, taking care to not get lost among them again. The spell was weakening the longer he spent here, the Dark Lord's power stretching it and threatening to severe it completely.

If it gets cut off...

If he wasn't able to find his way back-

There was another wail, this one louder than before, and Severus both resolutely tightened his hold on the tenuous thread keeping him in himself and turned forward once again.

He'd found Ginny.

The fact that she was even physically manifested in her own mind was a bad sign. How far away was she already? How many times had the Dark Lord taken control to weaken her own soul's connection with herself?

Ginny, appearing as how she saw herself, huddled down in the darkness, hovering in the midst of a silvery swirl of memories that only she could see and hear. Her head was buried in her knees, a tight, miserable cocoon, and even as she batted away the memories Voldemort sent soaring towards her to bury her alive, it was with a weak and shaking fist. She didn't look like she was fighting anymore, she looked like she had given up.

Her hair wasn't as dark as in real life- it was a more embarrassing hue of orange, and it looked more like someone had dumped a can of the brightest paint over her head than like fire, like Lily-

No, do not go down that path-

She was shorter, even huddled up, shorter, and uglier, with a nose and ears that were too big, and her Hogwarts robes were truly tatters. Secondhanded they might have been, now they appeared more like she'd just picked them up out of the trash. She wasn't as thin as she was in real life, either- not that he paid much attention to the students, but he was reasonably certain the timid first year had a problem with not eating enough, and the shaking girl beneath him looked like she ate once too often.

Well, the girl had a terrible self image, but given that she was the youngest and only girl in a family of what, eight? and eleven years old, he supposed it could have been worse.

She was still fighting back against Voldemort, and he had to give her credit for that. She had no idea what she was doing but even as she sobbed in despair she hurtled back every memory he threw her way back at him. She fought and thrashed against imagined bonds and howled for him to let her go, and Severus closed his eyes, thinking.

Ginny was fighting hard- but Voldemort would win. His will, even in a memory, was far stronger than hers. And he existed in her mind in a strictly support fashion. He could not actually fight for her. He could not expel Voldemort from someone else's head. That wasn't how it worked.

Support was... not something he did. Not out of any principle, or strange moral proclivity- he simply didn't know how to give it. He fought alone. Not as someone else's support.

"Stop it! Let me go!"

Juvenile, naive, and desperate- the shout somehow brought him to open his eyes again, and look down at the witch. Still a bright orange flame in the dark pall that was her very own memories- but she would very soon be lost there if he did not think of something.

"Stupid girl! Stand aside! Stand ASIDE!"

The words gripped his heart in a vice, and Severus almost choked on his own air.

Not again...

I wasn't able to stop that from happening... Lily died, and now this girl is going to as well-

I can not stop him-!

Voldemort's assault on Ginny's mind roared, pressing against the trembling witch whose struggles had become weak and feeble, a mouse's squeaks against a tidal wave. He felt himself being pulled back along the thread of magic to his own body, self preservation instincts kicking in as Voldemort forced him out, about to swallow Ginny whole.

Even as a memory... the Dark Loud would still take what he wanted... and he would watch, because that was what he did, he watched, powerless and a pawn to both grandmasters...

Ginny screamed out again.

It was nothing like Lily.

And Lily's voice was again absent from his mind, even as the thread that connected him with himself slowly began to suck him along back out to safety.

He was going to fail again. Voldemort was going to kill someone, again, someone that he had tried to protect.

He was sucked out faster now, memories and Ginny herself vanishing as he was yanked back out to safety faster and faster and faster-

Again, the voice in his head was not Lily's, but his own.

Lily is dead. If you wait for her to tell you how or when to do something, you will be waiting for forever.

But if you sit here and watch as Voldemort kills her, and you do nothing to stop it, you are letting Lily die over and again every time.

He caught himself on the very edge of Ginny's mind.

If he truly sat back and did nothing- watched countless times again and again as the Dark Lord lifted his murderous wand once more-

Then what worth, really, was the conscience that Lily's death had cursed him with?

Slowly, he began to force his way through Ginny's mind again.

Saving Ginny- saving anyone- would not bring Lily back. It would do no such foolish thing like give her death meaning, or any of the other ridiculous and trite sayings he had so often heard when cavorting with the side of Light. False promises at best, and worthless gifts at worst.

But if he did not even try, it would be wasting the second chance that Albus had given him that he still did not think he had deserved.

If he did not even try, then it would be not Ginny or anyone else's death, but Lily's again, a thousand times over.

This time, he fought his way through her mind without hesitation, and when he at last reached the fighting witch again, he did not even pause to think.

"Ginny."

Voldemort's vicious onslaught continued, relentless and ad infinitum. But Ginny froze, trembling, raising tear-streaked cheeks as if she could see him, as if she expected to see the speaker just floating above her, and he resisted the urge for another ethereal eye roll. Not that she could see him if he had done it.

"W-who... Who-?"

This time he really did roll his eyes.

"Ginny," he said again, and without the weight of her utter hopelessness to feed off, Voldemort's onslaught slowed, and the Dark Lord's fury mounted.

The redhead stared in the nothingness in disbelief. She opened her mouth without words several times, as if she simply didn't want to say it aloud, like that would shatter the illusion, then rubbed at her wet cheeks and gasped, "Professor S-Snape? Is that... is that you?"

"Yes. No time for explanations, Miss Weasley. Quickly- you must act; you don't have long. The Dark Lord is trying to force all that you are into something small enough that he can deal with. You must not let him. This is your mind; everything he is moving is yours to control."

The girl blinked up at him, a little stupidly, he thought, and he was just about to put it in even simpler terms when the blood suddenly drained from her imagined face, and she started gasping again, and then she turned a very peculiar shade of green, and he found himself staring as the girl almost passed out in her own head.

"T-T-The... D-Dark... You-Know-Who?! I'm fighting Y-Y-Y-You-Know-Who?!"

...Perhaps, in retrospect, it hadn't been the best of ideas to mention that.

"I told you, there's no time," he snapped, pressing on and hoping to instill some form of sense into her. "Listen closely this time. He's fighting you with your own weapons. Use them yourself."

She blinked dumbly again, though this time, she still looked quite faint, and utterly terrified. He sighed.

Dammed conscience. Dark Magic would've had Voldemort out of her in minutes, without him trying to talk a frightened first year through advanced Occlumency and Legillimency...

"He's trying to crush you back here with your own memories, your soul, your personality. Throw them back at him!"

She still stared blankly for a few seconds, her lower lip trembling, then at last managed a weak but defensive, "I am!" and he sighed. At least she wasn't just a fearful mess.

"No, you're not- you're physically taking what he throws your way and you're throwing it back to him. No, no," he snapped, feeling as if he was now trying to teach the mentally challenged. "These are your own memories. He's taking what he finds and using it- you can use any of them at will. Try." Try, just once, you silly girl, because I am fast running out of options...

"Just think of something, some memory, anything, and use it to force him back!" he ordered when the frightened redhead still huddled there motionless and frozen. How much simpler could he make it? "And do stop shaking. You're a Gryffindor, aren't you? I thought you were supposed to be brave."

The poorly disguised attempt to insult her back onto her feet did its job, because Ginny was either far too scared or not quite bright enough to recognize it for what it was. A defiant glint to her eye now, she glared at her knees, then slowly drew herself up to her full, still diminutive height. Her knees were shaking, her features were drawn and bloodless, but her eyes were determined, and when she started calling her own memories up and truly fighting back, it wasn't timid, nor was it desperate.

It may have begun as a last stand, but that, too, quickly dissolved into something that was more of the impossible nature:

Ginny Weasley was fighting the Dark Lord. And she was winning.

Every advantage lay on her side, and this was truly no Dark Lord, not yet; a possessive memory against a real human being should've stood no contest to someone who knew what they were doing. But Ginny Weasely didn't, and she'd lost to him- but now she was taking her own self back.

Bit by bit- step by metaphorical step-

She was going to live.

This time, when the threads of his spell called him back, he let them carry him away. This kind of spell was not something that could last for forever, and he'd expended too much energy into the link as was. It could still break.

And as he spun through a whirlwind of chaos that was quickly turning to light over dark, soaring faster and faster back into his own self, he realized this was finally the first time he had tried to save a life from the Dark Lord- and succeeded.

Then he scowled at himself. That was awfully melodramatic of him- awful and melodramatic.

He blamed this accursed conscience.

---

Severus hit reality to- and he wasn't entirely surprised but certainly was weary of it- more utter chaos.

The site of his duel with a pseudo Dark Lord had become overrun with staff, and the absence of Dumbledore was felt especially keenly here at the complete lack of order. The other teachers had only just reached them at last, Minerva and Filius both standing in the doorway, wands out but currently just standing there in some strange kind of shock. And the way he was being stared it was entirely aggravating- even, he realized belatedly, if he had just been found lying on top of and staring deeply into the eyes of an eleven year old girl that was currently both unconscious and tied up.

Coughing, Severus withdrew from the still shaking student, blinking several times to adjust his eyes to the light. Then he flinched.

Lockhart was there as well- already kneeling behind him, hidden from his view until now. His destructive wand was out, and the panicked sort of look on his face said that he had already been there for some time- and he had already done his best to fulfill his terrifying definition of help.

...Fuck.

His moving was the force that broke the dam, though, and suddenly Minerva and Filius spilled into the room to rush right for him and Ginny and Lockhart unfroze from the shocked statue Severus had regained consciousness to.

"Oh my goodness-"

"Severus, what happened he-"

"It was the Heir! The Heir possessed Severus to attack poor Miss Weasley! Ah, should've seen it coming, should've known, so dreadfully sorry, really, Severus, I should've seen this coming and-"

"Quiesce."

Neither Minerva or Filius looked the slightest bit surprised when Severus, with one exhausted flick of his wand, sent the thundering idiot to the ground already caught up in a very deep, very long, sleep. Filius did a decent impression of looking morally outraged for a moment; Minerva didn't even go that far.

Severus had zero patience left. Lockhart was lucky he had only put him to sleep.

All the attention turned back to Ginny Weasley, still bound and unconscious to the floor. He flicked his wand in her direction. "There should be something on her..." he muttered weakly, far too tired to help their search himself. The room was spinning, and he shut his eyes. "She was being possessed- an old spell- a ring, or..." His head spun now, even with his eyes shut, and Severus heaved a heavy breath, lying back down on the damp floor. The cold felt good. Like an anchor of some sort, an anomaly that could ground him in the present. Why wasn't he thinking straight? "A ring, or..."

"Severus?"

"Dear Merlin- Minerva, he's bleeding!"

"Severus!"

He gestured vaguely away from himself, fending off the hands he knew were coming. "Find the- whatever is on her," he insisted. The Weasley girl would still need all the help they could give her. "It still has a hold on her. Something commonplace... she's probably carried it everywhere for a while..."

Why was his head still spinning...

He heard Minerva mutter something, he wasn't sure what, it all just sounded rushed and faded to him. There was an odd rustling sound, and he felt like his orientation was being changed, and he scowled again, resisting whatever it was that he couldn't control. Something wasn't right, he knew that, but just what that something was felt far out of his reach...

More of Minerva's muttering. He risked opening his eyes again, and when the ceiling was still a blur, he kept watching it this time, somehow hoping it would stop moving or at least slow down. A glance to the side was both nauseating and illuminating, a fuzzy green spot he could presume was Minerva leaning over a smaller red and black one that had to be Ginny. A memory- Voldemort would've possessed something convenient, something that would've allowed him to communicate with whatever hapless wanderer that found him- a ring wouldn't do because a disembodied voice in someone's head spoke too plainly of Dark Magic, not even the Weasley girl could've mistaken it.

A mirror... teenage girls always carried those around, he'd confiscated enough in his classes...

or-

a book? No shortage of those in a school...

"A mirror or a book," he rasped, then coughed again. Curses... why am I like this? Why can't I think properly?!

"Severus, you are bleeding. Stop moving. What Dark Magic this is, Merlin himself wouldn't know..."

A disgruntled squeak, so that was Filius. He shook off the tiny hand irritably. He'd bled worse.

There was suddenly an uproar of rushed voices, and it took him a second longer than he cared to admit that the noise must've finally drawn others attention. More teachers, he hoped, although if he had his way even Minerva and Filius would leave, it was far too noisy as was-

"You greasy git! What'd you do to my sister?! I'm gonna kill you!"

Ah. More Weasleys.

Perfect.

Then, something happened which he would never again admit that it had occurred, would never happen again, and that he would've sworn every day before this would've never happened in the first place:

Severus Snape fainted.

---

This time around, consciousness was a significantly less muddled affair. He could already tell he could think without his thoughts going in circles, and his head was stopped spinning. The cold tiles his back and head met said it certainly couldn't have been a long gap from the waking world, unless they thought it kind to simply leave him unconscious on the bathroom floor.

No shouting Weasleys, either, and with shouting Weasleys undoubtedly had come an equally furious but less loud Potter. Hmph. Sleep was preferable indeed.

Though he didn't make a habit of falling asleep in the middle of a conversation, or when lying on the floor, and now that he didn't feel like he was about to pass out, it was time to find out what had really happened.

Minerva was still kneeling over Ginny, though Filius was gone, and the redhead looked no more conscious than when he had last seen her. Wincing, Severus tried to reach for his wand- then froze.

He couldn't feel his arm.

Panic did not suit him, but the sudden loss of feeling in one his limbs came very close to sending him straight over the edge.

Fortunately- or, perhaps, unfortunately- the moment Severus had managed to tilt his head in the right direction to see what had happened, he knew it was nothing the Dark Lord had done. The upside of that: Voldemort would've used Dark Magic, and the effects of Dark Magic were oft irreparable.

The downside:

Dumbledore was going to have to go hunting for another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Because Lockhart is dead.

The bones in his right arm were gone.

It looked like some kind of fleshy, fat slug. Very disgusting, very unusable- and very much a cause for ire indeed.

He gritted his teeth in fury. It was conceivable he had broken the arm in the fight. Merlin only knew how many times he'd hit the floor or flying debris had hit him. But had Lockhart really been foolish enough to try and heal someone with that ridiculous spell of his again?!

Absolutely furious, Severus managed to fumble for his wand with his other hand, and when his fingers found the cold, damp wood, he clasped it tightly and sat up in one swift motion.

He probably shouldn't have, when the action made him realize just how deeply Voldemort's curses had cut him, and just how hard he must've hid his head, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Better in pain and aware than half asleep and open to attack.

"Any change yet with Miss Weasley?" he grunted, shifting when the deep wound in his chest flared and trying not to gasp. His right arm flopped like a worthless slug.

Yes, Lockhart was very lucky indeed he had only been put to sleep.

Minerva didn't seem very surprised at his question, or the fact that he was awake. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her mouth still pulled down into an anxious frown, but her concern wasn't directed at him, and a moment later she turned back to Ginny. "She's still unconscious. We found- a book, in her pocket... the name on it- it's- You-Know-Who's. Severus... but he can't have possibly been the one..."

"Fifty years ago, and again, as a memory," he muttered grimly. Perfectly cryptic, he thought, pleased with himself, then moved his gaze uneasily around the ruined bathroom. Filius stood by the door, by the looks of it magically holding off the bustling hoard of students outside. A collection of very orange heads was fighting at the front, trying to get through the charm, and he sighed again. Yes... that was something he wanted to have to fight through...

"You'd best stay put," Minerva said sharply, her gaze returning to him in a stern glare when he tried to get to his feet. "We had to summon a blood replenishing potion to keep you conscious. Miss Weasley- er... You-Know-Who cut you deeply."

"I should hope it was him; otherwise it'd mean we'd been teaching curses that kill to first years." He could already imagine the massacre.

Severus rubbed his sore chest with the heel of his hand, wincing when it came away wet and sticky, and risked looking down to behold the damage.

Well, his robes were good and ruined. The blood wasn't too noticeable, it dried well on black, but the leaked water around him was dyed quite firmly pink and it had no doubt stained his back as well. There were numerous tears and one particularly vicious slash had come perilously close to his heart. Another benefit of black, though- scorch marks, which were everywhere, weren't as gruesome as they could've been. His right sleeve was burned away entirely though, and one look at the boneless thing had him resisting the urge to hex Gilderoy Lockhart straight out of the castle.

They didn't teach that spell to first years, either.

He glared at the teacher who was still currently slumped face down on the floor. No one had bothered to move him.

"So- about your arm- I wasn't sure what happened there. Did Gilderoy manage to get the upper hand on you there, Severus?"

He whipped his head up to stare at Minerva, who was looking back at him, this time, the corners of her mouth fighting not to turn upwards. Her gaze went pointedly to his arm, and then her attempts not to grin were lost.

She was bloody laughing at him.

"Shut up," he muttered darkly.

---

By the time some form of order had been restored, it was quite late indeed. Classes had been unofficially canceled for the rest of the day, because of either teachers being otherwise occupied or students not having the slightest intention of going to learn about the history of magic when it was playing out right before their eyes. Filius had been forced to keep up his charm forcing students away the whole haphazard journey to the hospital wing- though Severus had only gone with because he doubted his ability to fight his way through the thick throng of students without causing them serious bodily injury.

More of the pesky problems of a thorny conscience.

And, thus, he could entirely blame this problematic conscience for being the reason he was currently sitting on a curtained off bed in the hospital wing, batting off more blood replenishing potions and burn ointments of which he was perfectly capable of making himself and nursing a positively disgusting bottle of Skele-gro, instead of licking his own wounds in his own dungeon.

Minerva's insistence- that he be looked at.

As if he'd never walked away from a duel before.

He scowled again. What it was with those Gryffindors and their insistence to always help people, and especially when their help was unwanted, he would never know.

Glancing down at the boneless lump that was his arm again, then the empty bottle of Skele-gro, and Severus decided he had had enough of this. People was not something he wanted to deal with on his best days, and today, the thought turned his already foul mood murderous. He needed to think, away from pestering and hovering others. He was more tired than anything else, at any rate, and would sleep far better in his own quarters than here. Grabbing his wand (Minerva should've known better than to leave him with it), Severus swept the thin privacy curtain aside and rose.

The Weasleys were all huddled around another bed at the end of the room, Potter's unruly black locks sticking out from the orange mass somewhere near the head of it. Minerva and Poppy were caught up in a whispered, anxious conversation, and their eyes kept going down to Ginny and Severus nodded, pleased. So, then, they wouldn't mind if he just slipped out...

Dignity and demeanor back, Severus strode silently and confidently towards the door. He put an extra bit of effort into looking particularly foul, arranging that same look that always sent first years running, and trying to look especially livid and murderous- because heaven help any student who dared give him a second look.

He grabbed the knob and turned it- ah, just one more step and blissful freedom-

And he ran smack dab into Molly and Arthur Weasley and Dumbledore himself.

...Damn it all.

The mother was sobbing just as hard as Ginny had been, a wholly unwell mess. Unfortunately, that was the only detail he'd could catch before her wet, red eyes locked with his, and then, she threw herself at him.

More sobbing, into his already ruined robes. All he could see was a bundle of red hair, the woman significantly shorter than him, and he stared down at her, unsure if he should be shocked or repulsed as her arms tightened around him in what might possibly have been a very grateful, very tearful, misconceived hug.

One look at Albus's twinkling, joyful gaze proved his suspicions right. He was being hugged.

Then, just as sincerely and earnestly as his wife, Arthur grabbed his right hand and started shaking it vigorously, and he was so distraught himself he didn't realize he was tossing a fleshy nothing around. "Thank you, sir," he gasped, "our daughter- you- our daughter... Professor Dumbledore told us everything... you saved her... thank you!"

Albus was positively beaming by this point. Severus, shaken, manhandled, and very much uncomfortable, stood awkwardly and waited for it to end. Scowling heavily wasn't appearing to dissuade either of the Weasleys, and bodily pushing them away took a bit more strength than he had at the moment.

But at last it ended, and very abruptly at that, when the two seemed to suddenly remember their daughter in the next room at the same moment. Arthur let go of his not-hand just as Molly pulled away from him and the two near sprinted for the door, leaving Severus almost- so very close- to being alone and home free.

Ah, but no such luck.

Albus was looking quite pleased with the way things had turned out, he noted with displeasure, and when there was that disgustingly gleeful look in his eye, there was no end in sight. "Sir..." he began plaintively, but something in him told him it was hopeless.

"Now, now, Severus, don't run off yet. We haven't yet heard what really transpired... the Weasleys do deserve to know. Come back in- join the celebrations!"

He failed to see how explaining dark magic to a large collection of the orange-haired and loud-mouthed, particularly when a good number of that family had and would likely to continue to hate him, constituted a celebration.

"The diary?" he muttered to the headmaster under his breath as they both slipped back silently into the room, and Albus's bright eyes dimmed, just a little.

"Being taken care of as we speak."

At least there was that, then.

He still felt hot around his midsection where the mother had hugged him ferociously, and he suspected his right arm, if he could feel it, would be the same. Swallowing uncomfortably, he rearranged his features until what was hopefully something acceptable for the occasion as he joined Albus at the back of the thick ring of Weasleys, going for his usual mask of apathy.

Dark Lord, vanquished once again, even if this time it was only a memory of him. Everyone here, apparently, seemed perfectly content to forget that this had actually done anything at all- the real Voldemort was still out there. In effect, all that had been accomplished today was then getting rid of one of Voldemort's old toys.

Hardly an occasion to feel especially good about their fight.

His mind lingered on what was left to be done still, and what little that had been achieved at the end of last year, and their initial victory twelve years ago. The Light's victory that time had meant very little to him, not a victory at all, and he shook his head slowly, keeping unpleasant memories at bay. It seemed like some wicked sort of irony, that another mere child had escaped from the Dark Lord's touch, but so many others who could fight for themselves lay dead. That fight did not seem worth much. Severus had never been able to stand behind such a melodramatic cause like for the future; the future was not now, and the future would never be now, for him. That distant, abstract concept... he doubted he would ever live to see it.

It was a pitiful war effort indeed, if all he could manage to fight for was those who could not protect themselves.

Lily...

That was what she did, in the end.

Even if she had stood aside- but no; that simply wasn't something she ever would've done. Not for her own child. Not for anyone, even.

He had never thought himself similar to her, and in fact, he knew he was not- but, somehow, today- history had repeated itself.

Outcomes drastically different, even reasoning dissimilar; Lily for love, and him for some reason he still could not put into words, perhaps just that he no longer had the stomach to watch the death of an innocent, greater good or no, and there had been none here-

But still, somehow very much the same...

Lily would be glad, I think.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.