Chapter One

Severus Snape scowled deeply. It would have almost been better if the Wizengamot had sentenced him to the Dementor's Kiss. At least then he would have been blissfully unaware of all the horrendous things that were now put upon him.

A week in Azkaban had been enough for the man. It had temporarily aged him, leaving dark circles under his eyes. After that week, they brought him back to England for more trials.

That was when all this nonsense was decided.

During the trials over the death of Albus Dumbledore, he had been intensively examined, and he had never ceased to tell the truth about that night on the Astronomy Tower. He shivered at the memory of his time in the wizard prison, which further encouraged him to give them the whole story. They had all been dreadfully shocked at the conspiracy between himself and Dumbledore, which Harry Potter had defended, though grudgingly. Potter was still chafing at Dumbledore's death and unending trust in Snape.

The fact that Severus had lived after the snakebite had been a bit of a downer for the Boy- Who- Was- Arrogant, and it was now becoming a bit of a depressing memory for Snape himself. Actually, the story of his survival was one of pure luck. He had had the forethought to prepare an antidote to Nagini's venom, in case that she accidentally bit someone, or the Dark Lord decided he wanted to kill someone Snape did not want killed. Funnily enough, it turned out that Snape was that someone. After Potter had disappeared to sift through Severus's memories and Ron had run off to look after his diminished family, Granger actually had the bright idea to search his seemingly dead body, for what he had no idea; it was then that she found his little pouch of vials. Fortunately she had paid attention in his third year Potions class and recognised the colour and scent of snake venom antidote. He would have almost been proud, if it weren't for the unauthorised robe search.

Anyway, he lived, though the scars from that vile snake's teeth remained, and he had a bit of a limp from where his circulation had begun to cease and would not return to his left foot. It had all led up to this; he was sitting between two Aurors, listening to his sentence. And what an awful sentence to receive.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you are hereby sentenced to permanent house arrest, during which you will serve as Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Minerva McGonagall will serve as your warden, and you are subject to her jurisdiction. Your wand will be confiscated and disposed of to prevent future malignant behaviour. The case is hereafter closed." The banging of that gavel might have been the Killing Curse from the way Severus jerked.

He had never, never expected this outcome. Maybe life in Azkaban, maybe even death, but not a permanent position as Potions master. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky, but in that moment, he did not feel lucky. A strict, overbearing woman was going to be holding him prisoner in the dungeons of a castle for the rest of his life.

After the trial his wand was broken. The distinct snap had shocked him. His guards then escorted him outside of the Ministry, and Apparated with him to Hogsmeade. The ride in the carriages led by those terrifying horses seemed longer than usual, possibly because it was spent lodged between two broad-shouldered, distinctly masculine men. He felt like half a man, mostly due to their wands, carefully gripped in large hands, (which would have been funny on any other day, to any other person) and their size, contrasting so sharply with his bony, stoop-shouldered frame. He considered this one of the lowest points in his life, though there had been many, many low points. After thinking about his past misfortunes and those yet to come for the entire ride, he arrived in a surly, sardonic mood (which was not unusual, just particularly potent).

"Severus," Minerva said as he stepped out of the carriage. "You will be returning to your old quarters as soon as the Aurors are finished with the defences. You will come to my office, meanwhile. We have a few things to discuss."

Snape followed silently. He took note that her behind had gotten wider, but said nothing, saving the titbit for a time when he was really frustrated with her. As they walked, he swore he would not say a word unless it was directly required of him. That was the most he could hope to do to control his life at this point.

Minerva settled into the chair behind the Headmaster's desk as Snape took notice of the changes. The curtains were now tartan, which was not a huge surprise. There were fewer tiny instruments, more books. Dumbledore solemnly watched the happenings in the office from a gilded frame. Snape squirmed guiltily beneath his even, twinkling gaze.

"There are a few rules you will obey: some are mine, some the Ministry's. All are to be given obeisance. Do you understand?"

He rolled his eyes in response.

"I will not have you acting like an ill-humoured teenager, Severus! How old are you now? Thirty-seven? You will answer me with respect."

"Of course I understand," he answered. "Ma'am," he added upon seeing her disapproving look. He had promised himself this wasn't going to happen, hadn't he? He was following her orders like some kind of puppy.

"I have taken the liberty of writing these rules down. Here is your copy. I expect it to be on your person at all times. If I find that it is not, I will not hesitate to remedy the situation. You have been appointed your own guard at all times, both to protect you and keep you in line during classes. We don't want students throwing spells at you, no matter how much amusement this might provide." Snape gaped. "Now, you know we are short-handed, which was the sole reason for your punishment, but—"

The entrance of Harry Potter, the Golden Boy himself, blessedly interrupted her. He entered the room impertinently, as he did all else. "Professor, the Aurors are done."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. I will see that the spells are kept active."

I bet you will, Severus thought bitterly. Potter left the room and Minerva stood.

"Severus, we need your help, but not your cooperation. Whether or not you like it, you are here to stay, so I suggest you start liking it. After all, there is a library for your research, free food, comfortable and private housing. Considering the other alternatives, Hogwarts is a little piece of heaven." With that, she walked out, leading him along with an invisible tether.

A man followed them to the dungeons, one of the same who had escorted him to the school. He was broad-shouldered with sandy, feathery hair and glinting blue eyes. Severus convinced himself that the feeling of loathing was not from jealousy, but from the fact that he would be followed about by this cretin for the rest of his foreseeable life.

Upon reaching the dungeons, Snape discovered his quarters, decorated in their usual Spartan manner. Bookshelves, bed, small roll-top desk, filing cabinet, and a table placed in the nook of the room to serve as a dining area. It was late, so Minerva left him to go to her own rooms. The guard hunkered down on his dinette that had been converted to a cot. He peered at the room curiously.

Everything seemed to be the same, so he changed into his pyjamas and crawled into the modest bed. Tomorrow might be hell, but tonight he would sleep without the gloomy, rotten presence of Dementors.

- - - -

Severus woke with a jolt due to water being poured directly onto his face. The water stopped for a moment and he saw Minerva McGonagall standing imperiously over him.

"Professor, this is most unprofessional. Where is your list?" she demanded tersely. He wiped off some of the water running down his face in rivulets, then reached to his bedside table.

"What is it, exactly, that is unprofessional, madam: my sleeping or your waking me up?"

She glowered at him, then opened up the parchment, which he had folded. Holding out the list to his tired eyes, she stabbed at number four with one bony finger. He read it.

" 'You will retire at ten in the evening and rise by seven in the morning on all days excluding weekends and holidays,' " he quoted snidely.

"It is now nearly eight, Professor. Your first class is arriving in ten minutes. I suggest you get ready quickly." What she did not add, but he was certain she wished to, was, 'Have fun getting ready the Muggle way.' "

The shower would have simply been too much effort, so he washed his face, for whatever good it would do, and then changed into his characteristically dark robes. Unfortunately, his hair was wet from Minerva's dousing, but what could he do? He was completely without a wand. He left his quarters tentatively, surprised that he could simply walk out. This discovery required experimentation. This experimentation did not last long, however, as he found that if he strayed in the slightest from the path to the Potions classroom, he received a nasty shock and was scooted two feet in the right direction by some invisible force. It was a rather humiliating occurrence that he vowed would never happen again.

The students were lined up by the classroom door. He had the sudden urge to run as quickly as he could back to his rooms and hide for the rest of his life. But then he remembered that he most likely physically could not, and even if he could, Minerva would quickly make it so that he couldn't. In his mind he could conjure horrific scenes of awkward questions and cocky students with wands throwing spells at his helpless, wandless head.

The person who taught before him had been thrown out of his position for, quite simply, doing inappropriate things with inappropriate people in inappropriate places. Severus had even heard that he and a fifth year were caught in McGonagall's office, doing who knows (or wants to know) what. It made Severus almost seem like a good teacher. But then, he had always known that teaching was not his calling. It did help fill the old coffers and kept him from going hungry, but he hated children of all ages, so teaching them, disciplining them, and eating with them, had perhaps not been the best move on his part. But what was there to do about that? When he had come to Dumbledore, he had been desperate, and teaching had seemed like a haven at the time.

He didn't like to think about Dumbledore, though, so he rushed forward and growled at the students in front of the door to enter the classroom. It had been a while since he had taught in the dungeons, so when he entered the room, he was shocked. It was almost worse than the time that Umbridge woman had invaded the D.A.D.A. office.

On the walls gaudy, medieval tapestries hung, covered in depictions of goblin duels, famous wizards, and gory battles. For some reason beyond Severus's fathoming, curtains of burgundy velvet covered a few areas. There were no bloody windows! Why were there curtains? He sidled up to the curtains and attempted to rip them off, but it was to no avail. They had been magically reinforced. He did discover that behind the curtains, murals of the outside world had been painted, complete with cute little bunnies hopping across rich green grass and butterflies fluttering through a brilliantly blue sky. He snarled in disgust.

"Why don't you take them down with your wand, Professor?" some impertinent young boy asked after watching Severus struggle with the velvet curtains for a few minutes.

Snape turned angrily on him.

"Name, year, and house, boy," he snarled, a few water droplets flying through the air from his damp hair.

"Edward Fitzhugh, fourth year, Ravenclaw."

"And I thought Ravenclaws were smarter than that. Fifteen points from Ravenclaw."

There were a few groans, but he turned his eyes to the rest of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and they stopped. His guard took a step out the door for a moment, and then returned before Snape even really missed him. "Good. Take your seats. We will begin with page fifty-seven—"

"But sir! We're only on page—"

"I could not possibly care less, Mr. Fitzhugh."

Suddenly, the door banged open and an irate Minerva walked into the room.

"Severus, might I see you outside for a moment?"

He was, of course, obliged to obey, but it was nice of her to ask. Not.

"Is there something wrong, Headmistress?" he asked innocently when the door was shut.

"Did you even bother to read the list I gave you, Severus? If you have not, I suggest you do, and quickly. Every time you break one of my rules, Clarence tells me and I am compelled to come down here."

"Who is Clarence?"

"The guard. That is beside the point. This time I was in the middle of a very important meeting with Mr. Potter. Before that, I was in the middle of my morning tea. I do not like to be disturbed during my morning cup, Professor." She glared at him a moment. "Now… Read the list. I want to watch you read it."

"My guard is spying on me?"

Minerva looked at him, so Severus pulled the list from his pocket. It was slightly damp

and wrinkled from picking it up with his wet hands and folding it repeatedly.

The words were neatly printed in either green or black ink. At the top it stated that those stated in green were rules reinforced by magic, and those in black were simply rules to be obeyed of his own accord. Three of them were black. The other ten were green.

Thankfully it was not a long list, but it was a restrictive one.

1. You will remain in your quarters unless teaching, eating meals, or attending designated occasions, at which times you will report to the classroom, Great Hall, or designated area with all punctuality. Absence at the appropriate times will be justly punished. Visits to the library are permitted between five and nine o'clock.

2. You will only be allowed out of your rooms at times other than class and meals if accompanied by Headmistress McGonagall or one appointed by her to accompany you to the designated area.

3. Extensive fraternisation with students shall not be allowed.

4. You will retire at ten in the evening and rise by seven in the morning on all days, excluding weekends and holidays.

5. You will not be permitted to deduct points from the four Houses. If there is a complaint worthy of deduction, you shall present it in written form before the headmistress for her perusal.

6. All classes will be taught in a civil manner, without bias or ill temper.

7. You shall not be allowed to touch another witch or wizard's wand.

9. Visitors are permitted, but only at times between curfew, meals, and classes.

10. The headmistress must approve any and all visitors.

11. You will be required to attend all school functions, such as, but not limited to, Quidditch games, feasts, and seasonal parties and/or celebrations.

12. You will be required to form twenty hours per month of service to the school. The headmistress will decide the activities in which you will be spending these hours.

13. All rules and regulations set forth by Headmistress McGonagall will be obeyed with promptitude and respect.

14. Transgressions are punishable by whatever means the headmistress sees fit.

He sighed, even more disturbed than he was upon first being told he would be teaching once again.

"You honestly expect me to obey these rules? Like some first year?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He glanced at the rules again. Especially number fourteen. "Well, so sorry, ma'am, I will get on the right path once again, ma'am, and you just say the word and I'll bend over for my whipping, with all due respect, ma'am."

"Don't be snide with me, Severus. Just remember that you are magically bound to this school, and at any moment I could be watching you. One more transgression and I shall be forced to think up proper punishment, Professor."

"Oh, Merlin help me," Severus muttered as McGonagall's wide behind bounced away to talk to Harry Potter. Urgh.

Upon entering his classroom, he found it in complete disorder. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was chaos, an aversion that had saved his life many times. At this moment, a wand would have been invaluable, but as he had none, he used his natural talents.

"Stop!" he boomed, his voice reaching such an impressive volume that it caused the students to stop their chatter and idle throwing of items across the room immediately. Since his magical power was now significantly diminished, he would have to use pure intimidation. He didn't mind. Not one bit.

"The next time I leave a room and return to find you in such a state," he said in a low, quiet voice, the change making some students lean forward in an effort to hear. "I will personally ensure that Caretaker Filch hangs you from your thumbs, just as he has always longed to do. And then, I will report you to the headmistress for further punishment. Every single one of you, if necessary."

The room was silent. They would soon rediscover Severus Snape's form of teaching. He limped to the front of the room.

"Why do I see no open books? Page fifty-seven."

The newly obedient students flipped through their books as he went to the chalkboard and began manually writing out instructions. He could see how teaching would become tedious without the use of a wand.

- - - -

It had been an exhausting day, full of dense Hufflepuffs, snide Gryffindors, know-it-all Ravenclaws, and disappointingly slow Slytherins. He was ready to slip between his soft, warm sheets, courtesy of house elves, and fall into a potion-induced dreamless sleep. This was not meant to be, however, as the moment he turned to go to his quarters, he felt the sudden pull of that invisible force. He tumbled onto his back, the hem of his robes flying up as his head crashed through the air. He pondered his luck when he saw no one nearby other than the astoundingly silent Clarence. Apparently, however, the force in the halls was not going to let him go anywhere but the Great Hall. He gave his tired eyes a rub, and then walked slowly to the crowded, loud room. Some of the students he had taught that day got silent, but otherwise, no one stared too terribly.

"Professor Snape, Clarence! So good of you to join us. I don't believe you've met some of our newer teachers." Minerva offered up their names. "There's Professor Angelina Douglas, who teaches Transfiguration. She's a brilliant girl, went to a school in Italy, you know. And then there's Madam Topia, the new nurse. And where is our new Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Flitwick?" Minerva slyly asked, a smile broadening on her face.

"I do believe she's a bit ill, Headmistress. She went to the hospital wing and has been confined by the dear Madame Topia," the tiny, greying Charms professor answered, throwing a look the way of the new school nurse that made Snape feel a bit sick. He stored away Flitwick's crush for a later time.

"Of course you can leave, Professor. Did you eat all of your vegetables?" Minerva mocked when Severus asked to leave later. He had put up with as much of Hagrid's semi-drunken ravings as much as he could. How he loathed that beast.

"I will not answer that question," he responded. She merely laughed and waved him off.

Lying in his bed, freshly showered and donned in warm woollen pyjamas, Severus had nothing to do but think. He was too tired to sleep, too tired to get up and do something, and he was certainly in no mood to talk to the painfully silent guard.

He thought of the students he had been forced to unwillingly choke down all day, without even the dignity of taking away their points. Every single one of them reminded him of Harry Potter, that stupid Auror, the supposed saviour of the wizard race. Pah. That boy had very little to do with the saving of the world. While he was off with his little friends, searching aimlessly all over England, Severus had been here, at Hogwarts, uncovering the mysteries of Voldemort and Dumbledore, trying to solve the endless puzzle. And then what happened? In the throes of death he yielded his most precious memories to that twat, revealing his greatest, most beloved secret in a single moment.

Those were all the memories of Lily. In his mind there was a special collection of those memories, stolen moments with the only woman he had ever loved, from the perfect to the painful, and he would never forget. So much beauty and perfection in one person. He wondered if she had been human at all, or perhaps just an angel or vision sent to this world to break his cold heart. Silly girl. Threw away her beautiful life for the love of a selfish, delusional little boy, and now in a place beyond him, leaving only her tantalising memories, memories of her words, her scent, her brilliant green eyes, her pert, freckled nose, the perfect copper hair that swayed around her and reflected light to make a halo. He had loved her. Oh, how he had loved her! It ached to think of it, but he couldn't stop, didn't want to.

He remembered all the times he had looked at another woman and found himself comparing her to Lily Evans, always finding her wanting. Often they had beauty, but no intelligence, or they lacked the spark that seemed to light Lily's eyes when she was interested or excited or happy…. Actually, that spark was in her eyes almost all the time. But not that once, when that evil word had slipped off of his tongue and estranged her forever.

How he had loathed himself after that. His hatred for himself in conjunction with his hatred for the world sent him spiralling downward, into the bone-thin, wretched arms of the Dark Side, his single tie to the light being that red-headed woman. It burned when she invited him to her wedding. It had hurt him so much that he had hidden from everyone who knew him for an entire week. That week had been spent in Muggle bars, salty water making his drinks taste terrible. And then, she was gone. The only place she remained was in his mind, that steel trap no one could enter without his permission. She had been the soft core in his frozen heart, and now he was stone.

The tortured professor dozed off, and never would he admit that as he fell into slumber, a drop slid from his eye to the pillow.