Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Author's note: This story is AU, as are all my stories. A pure exercise in maudlin, somewhat adequately written sentimental tripe. So, enjoy, if you will... I believe that gentleness is one of the results of healing, and therefore I do not find it difficult to imagine a gentle Professor Snape. I do not personally consider such a quality to be out of character for him (though some may disagree if they wish); I view it as the natural outcome of growth, pruning and fruitfulness.

Darkest before dawn

by

Logospilgrim

Snape set a goblet before Dumbledore, who slowly drank the golden liquid it contained and shuddered.

"Thank you, Severus."

The Potions Master gave a curt nod. "I shall return tomorrow with the next dose. I need to brew more potion this evening." He pressed his mouth against his sleeve and coughed a few times.

"You look pale," Dumbledore said, frowning slightly. "Have your dealings with Voldemort been more demanding than usual?"

"Not any more than usual, no. If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I-"

Dumbledore lifted his good hand. "Do stay a moment. Sit down."

Snape hesitated, evidently torn between a prompt, unceremonious exit and obedience. His mouth tightened for a second and he sighed harshly.

"What do you wish to discuss, Headmaster? Your impending execution at my hands? Or perhaps you'd like us to go over the details of Potter's imminent death again, without really telling me anything?" His diatribe was interrupted by another bout of coughing.

"Severus... Please."

Bitterness flashed across the thin man's features and he let himself fall into one of the armchairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. "It's useless to argue with you," he said almost inaudibly.

"I think, lad, that you have been hiding something from me," Dumbledore said.

The Potions Master snorted. "As if such a thing were even feasible."

"How long have you been feeling unwell?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Snape said. His eyes locked with Dumbledore's. "I am..." He faltered and clenched his jaw. "I am as fine as a murderer and a traitor could be."

"You are neither."

"Damn you!" Snape said, hitting the desk with his fist and rising from his seat. "Spouting orders and niceties about what's easy and hard -you've certainly shied away from pain, haven't you, and crushed me with the burden no one else can carry!"

"I wouldn't have asked you what I did unless I had known that your soul would be preserved from harm. You have spoken the truth... No one but you possesses the strength to grant my terrible request. Only you love me enough to give me peace. "

Snape blinked and was still. Then his face contorted; he turned away and strode towards the window, stumbling once. "Damn you," he said in a breath, his fingers raking the glass. "I can't do it. I can't..." His body shook as he was racked with yet more coughing.

Dumbledore walked up to Snape and put his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. Snape lowered his head. "I'm not as strong as you believe I am," Snape said. "Not anymore. Not, it seems... for much longer."

"You are ill," Dumbledore finally said.

"Yes."

"When did you contract this illness?"

"Soon after I began brewing the potion that counteracts the curse."

"You have known for a while, then."

Snape nodded. He glanced at Dumbledore, his expression blank. A filament of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. "I am just as capable of deceit as you are, Headmaster, when I think I'm doing what's right."

"Severus," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "You're far more transparent than you realize."

Snape lowered his head again.

"Come, sit down," Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the comfortable chairs next to the fireplace.

Snape followed him silently. He coughed, leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I take it the disease has attacked your lungs?" Dumbledore asked without preamble.

"That's correct," Snape answered. "All the symptoms point to a degenerative condition. I have unearthed no diagnosis due to the unique nature of the potion. Every day I grow weaker. However, I'm confident that I shall be able to fulfill..." He paused. "Most of your commands before the end."

"I trust you have tried to find a cure."

"Duty required I do so," Snape said, smirking. "I have been unsuccessful."

"In that case, you must stop brewing the potion."

"Out of the question. You will die otherwise, and Potter needs you if he is to accomplish his task, whatever it is. I must brew the potion to give you as much time as possible."

Dumbledore chuckled. "My dear Severus, it appears you are determined to die prior to my own demise, and I am equally determined to imitate you. But Harry needs us both for the time being."

"Well, then... We must endeavor to hang on for as long as we can. Nevertheless, I shall see to it that you outlive me, Headmaster."

"For now, let's have some tea, lad. Since neither of us are long for this world, I think we should rest as often as circumstances allow." He warmed the teapot with a tap of his wand and poured tea in the cups. "Especially you."

"I won't do it. I don't care what I promised. Don't you know that you're the closest thing I have to a father?" Snape said, his voice roughened by weariness and emotion. "Within weeks, or less, I won't be able to at any rate. Soon I'll be too sick to brew anything, let alone release you. Hurry and help Potter finish what it is you want him to do. Soon it'll be too late."

"You'll release me eventually, Severus." Dumbledore handed him a teacup. "Who else but you can brew the potion that keeps me alive? You will deliver me, but in a manner that will be less distressing for you." He patted Snape's arm. "I am glad of it. I know I asked a great deal."

"We must protect Draco somehow," Snape said, rubbing his forehead. "I doubt he can do what the Dark Lord demanded of him, but in any event we cannot permit it. We must save him."

"Your illness will simplify matters."

"What do you mean?" Snape said, bemused.

"I believe, Severus, that we should not conceal the truth. Once you are confined to bed, I'll reveal your condition to everyone. I daresay by then rumors will already have begun to circulate. It will be easier for you to discover what Draco is up to if he no longer views you as a threat."

"Yes... Of course." Snape suddenly started coughing again, and this time he retrieved a handkerchief from his robes. A few moments later, he sank back against the chair, and the white linen clutched in his hand was spotted with blood.

Dumbledore got up and brought Snape's teacup to the pale man's lips. "Drink a little," he said, encouraging Snape to swallow.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Snape whispered.

"Oh, lad... This is my fault."

Snape shook his head. "Trust me, Headmaster... You have asked much, it's true. But you have given me much in return. You are releasing me from this life. Our debts are repaid."