A/N: To those of my kind readers who might wonder: the first two chapters of this fic are modified (i.e. "book 7-fitted") versions of the ones that already have been posted 2005 for my fic "Killer in me". For various reasons I decided to reduce "Killer in me" back to its original one-shot version and start a new fic instead. This fic obviously contains SPOILERS for book 7, so if you haven't read the book yet and don't wish to be spoilt, please stop reading NOW.
Summary: From the "Flight of the Prince" to "The Prince's Tale": now we know it all. Or do we? The final book from Severus Snape's point of view. And since Mrs Rowling gave us only a handful of hints and side notes about Snape's final year, this fic is basically an assortment of loads of "gap-fillers". The beginning is somewhat hurt/comfort-ish, but later chapters will be general drama with slight angst.
Rating: T for Troll
Warnings: some blood and violence (about the same amount as in the book, so it will not be too graphic) and possible awkward language, since English is not my first language. My apologies! ;-)
Disclaimer: see my profile page
Enjoy! And I would, of course, be delighted if you grant me a tiny review. :-)
Of Trust and Fate
Chapter 1: Spinner's End
"What are you waiting for, boy?" he snarled, breathing heavily. "Open that door!"
Like stung from a wasp Draco made a startled jump at the sudden outburst. Apart from panting and occasional low cursing Snape hadn't uttered another sound on their way from the Apparition spot to the end of the street in that run-down industrial area. For a couple of moments Snape almost hysterically tried to clutch his trembling wand steadily to lift the protecting charm from the lock of the door. Finally the wand dropped to the ground from his injured hands, which had been slashed open by the hippogriff's sharp claws. Biting his lower lip he leaned against the wall beside the entrance, blood seeping from a deep gash on his forehead into his eyes. He blinked and wiped away the mixture of blood and sweat with the sleeve of his robes, knowing that he couldn't even think of summoning the strength to turn the doorknob.
Draco awoke from the trance he had seemingly been in after realising their current location.
"Is this where you live?" he asked incredulously while opening the wooden door. Obviously his mother had never told him about Snape's whereabouts when he wasn't at Hogwarts. Maybe she wanted to keep up a kind of façade for her son's sake on this close friend of the family.
Snape didn't answer. Instead he curtly tilted his head, indicating the boy to enter. "Get in," he hissed.
After both had entered the house and Draco had closed the door, Snape limped over to one of the shabby armchairs at the fireplace and gingerly sat down, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Draco, however, remained standing in the middle of the small room, a shadow of disbelief over his face.
"If this is really your…" he said reluctantly, "…your home, wouldn't this be exactly the place they would search for us first?"
Snape examined the wounds on his hands and then looked up. "No," he answered. "Apart from some of the Dark Lord's followers no one knows of this place – except…" He pressed his lips together as his stomach clenched uncomfortably. "Never mind about that now, it's none of your business." He felt sick.
"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, suddenly looking uneasy. "Thank you for saving my life."
"There is no more 'Professor', Draco. And it is not like I had a lot more options to choose from, is it?" the man answered wearily, again looking down to his hands. "Wretched creature!"
"Is there anything I can do to help? Is there any potion…" The young man examined the dust-covered bookshelves.
"No. This is no potions storeroom, as you might already have noticed," Snape answered. "There is a disinfecting liquid in the bathroom cupboard, though," he added, turning his head to a door to the left and Draco obeyed his unspoken request without further delay.
While he heard the boy rummaging in the adjacent room, Snape leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes. He felt nausea rise again. He had murdered – again. Killed Dumbledore, killed his future. Anger rose within him. How could he! How could Dumbledore demand such a thing from him, knowing that this action not only would kill him but also Snape's only chance to prove his honest efforts for the Order! Any my soul, Dumbledore, mine? His question still rang in his ears, now more accusingly than ever. And what was more, it now seemed all in vain. Potter, Lily's son, the boy to whose protection he had devoted his whole life would have to die in the end. And now Dumbledore was gone and with him the only one to testify. There was no one left to know the truth now, except for him, the apparent murderer of his mentor. Blast!
"Prof… sir?"
Snape's eyes snapped open. Draco stood in front of him, a bottle in his one hand while conjuring some bandages out of midair with a flick of his wand. He drew a stool closer and sat down by the man's side.
"Put your hands out, please," said the boy quietly while he soaked a piece of gauze. His hands trembled so heavily that the bottle slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.
"S…sorry," he mumbled as he bent down to pick it up.
"Calm down, Draco," said Snape. He tried to sound reassuring, despite his own apprehension. It was hardly surprising that the boy was under shock but he could not allow him to panic.
Draco gulped and nodded, his chin still quivering slightly. "I'm not sure, but I guess this is going to burn a bit," he said tentatively.
"Just go ahead," Snape snapped and Draco started to carefully dab the wounds with the damp cloth.
And what now? Where should he go? There had never been an opt-out scenario on this, Snape thought, ignoring the pain. Dumbledore had coaxed him into that fatal plan without caring about the aftermath. Back to the Dark Lord? To join the celebrations? He wanted to throw up.
"You look sick," he heard Draco's concerned voice as the young man turned to clean the gashes on his former professor's face. "Don't flinch!" he added, as Snape involuntarily let out a hiss of pain when the liquid made contact with the open wound.
"And now?" Draco asked after he had finished covering the injuries with bandages. He stood up again. "What are we going to do now?" he repeated.
Honestly, I don't know. "I assume your mother will know what happened by now," Snape answered. "We will wait for her here to pick you up for your audience with the Lord."
"And you?"
"Me? I'm going to have a drink now."
Supporting himself on his elbows he rose and went over to the mantelpiece to fetch a bottle and a glass. A bandaged and trembling hand awkwardly tilted the bottle to pour the golden-brown liquid.
"To the future," Snape said, raising his glass and then draining it. To the future…
°°
Betas: lucidity for the original one-shot and sympathex for the edited version. Thank you very much!
Should you prefer to read this story at livejournal, please have a look at my fanfiction-journal under the username of "salzgurke".