Title: Journey

Disclaimer: Everything that's part of the Harry Potter world belongs to J. K. Rowling, especially the excerpts from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

Pairing: SS/RL, implied one-sided SS/LP, implied one-sided RL/NT

Author Notes: Most chapters are going to be this long ^^. So, Part One starts here, we're setting off and Shakespeare's just brilliant. Perfect, really. Did you know that most of his sonnets were written for/about a man? I can still cite the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet and I so liked Much Ado About Nothing!

I liked this chapter for Albus. Thanks already for your comments :D!

Part One - Departure

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 43

First Step

"The Dark Lord, as you doubtless figured, has chosen to believe me. Or at least he considers believing me."

"Very well done, Severus, I couldn't be more grateful."

"Anytime, Headmaster."

"Severus, I know that it will be very hard for you, but I must impress on you that it is most essential that Voldemort trusts you. What I mean to say is, no matter what sacrifice has to be made, you will have to make it. For the gr– … it is for the best."

"I will do my best to fulfil my task, Headmaster."

"I know … I know, Severus, thank you."

"Not at … it was nothing."

It was quiet. Morning had just broken and yet he was wide awake. He could not leave without coming here one more time. It was the last day of term and tomorrow he would be going back to Spinner's End where all he had was the fear of another searing in his arm. But right now, looking around this room was calming. Everything was silent as if he had gone deaf.

The coffee table was still the same. There were the brown rings that were tea stains that had been there last year when he had been here for, what he had believed, the last time. There was the slightly turned leg from when it had been thrown over by a falling body. It was still standing in the same old spot. And it was still standing in the same old living room, in which he had celebrated Christmas for the first time.

Severus stood transfixed. The last memory that clung to his mind was standing right here, after the werewolf had departed, considering those empty rooms, those lonely tea stains on the table, telling of a pair of cups, a pair of men. And now that the quarters had been cleared out, it was as though not a minute had passed since his last visit. Some fog of the werewolf's presence hung in these rooms. And Severus couldn't resist it.

His body was still aching from the tense fear he had been in. But no matter how troubled he was feeling, how stressed he was, there was a pain inside him that pushed everything else into the background.

It was that same pain. Deep, deep down inside his chest. He rubbed his eyes. It wasn't likely to go away again. Severus had come to terms with that fact. A whole year. Not a word. It was his own fault. He missed his voice. His hair. His hands and lips. Now more than ever. He could have written a letter. But he was scared. And timid. And disappointed. And ashamed. Hurt most of all. Still. He couldn't get over it. Nor over the other feeling.

Love.

Wicked feeling. How could he have put it into words? He couldn't even write a letter. Those words were too heavy for paper to carry them. It was impossible to write them down. But maybe he was mistaken. Maybe three simple words, tied together, would have been enough.

He was angry. Angry that Moody – no, not Moody, Crouch. Not that it changed the amount of his anger it just raised the amount of his disgust – angry that Crouch had lived here, contaminated this sacred place with his filthy presence. He had been angry all year. Still thinking that it was Moody. Just as bad. He should have been angry at himself.

Severus sat down on the sofa and looked out of the window. He felt as if he were neglecting his duty. His mind was not where it was supposed to be. It didn't seem important to think about the next time he'd face the Dark Lord when he could be thinking about a werewolf that was miles away and upon whom he would perhaps never lay eyes again. Yes, what was more important than bathing in misery? He deserved to pity himself a little. There was nothing in his life now that would give him reason to be satisfied with it. Somehow it felt good just being miserable for a while. He could be strong again later, when people were around him. Now he just wanted to be miserable and weak.

All year he had wanted to talk to the man who should be sitting next to him right now. Talk about the Dark Mark growing clearer by the day, telling of the Dark Lord's return, just like Dumbledore had predicted. Scaring him. About Karkaroff, the coward, making him sick with his panicked whining. Severus was not like him, he would never run away! And Moody – Crouch – Moody, oh, whatever – ever since the maniac had come to Hogwarts, waking bad memories, treating him like a criminal, sneaking around his office. And Potter, getting more impertinent by the day. And Dumbledore, letting it all happen. And about how he knew what he had to do but didn't know how to do it, or if he could do it. About his fear.

But he had not been there and Severus wouldn't talk to anyone else. Wouldn't find him, either. Instead he had kept it all to himself. He would never show Albus the pathetic feelings he had had all this time. Even though he thought Albus knew anyway. But his pride forbade him to display this weakness openly.

Albus knew too much about him already. Severus hated the way he manipulated him with his knowledge. It wasn't fair. He did that to everyone. There was nothing Severus could do about it, though. He had been granted Albus's trust even though he had never deserved it, he endured and accepted everything Albus did. Even the sneaking up on him without making a sound.

"Can I help you, Headmaster?" Severus mumbled in a slightly irritated voice.

Albus chuckled behind Severus's back. "I was just wondering if you are alright, Severus."

Alright. No, he wasn't. "Of course, I am alright," drawled Severus with a vague wave of his hand. "Just fine."

Albus walked into sight and looked out of the window. "Then why are you here?"

Severus considered the empty fireplace and sighed. "I have no idea …" he muttered.

"Of course you do," replied Albus and though he stayed for a long while, Severus still felt alone.

"I recommend some enjoyment," added Albus after a long pause.

Severus stared at his hands. Enjoyment? What was that again? Didn't that have something to do with the one who had left him? If that was true, he didn't want anything to do with that enjoyment thing! But that wasn't right. You chased him away.

"I don't know what that would be," mumbled Severus and folded his hands to fill the emptiness in them.

"You could develop a new potion …" Albus suggested.

And there was that question again: did Severus enjoy potion-making? Did he forget that he liked it because he was denied something else by Albus? Did he become ungrateful? Didn't he cherish what he had? Another thing that reminded him of …

"I don't want to brew …" said Severus and felt desperate. What was it worth his brewing? He would have to brew for the Dark side now.

Albus sighed. "Maybe you'll take a long walk through –"

But Severus shook his head. All that didn't help. No part of his life was pleasant now. Everything was messed up. Everything was broken. Why was he even here? Yes, why wasn't he –

"Why don't you do what you'd like to do then?"

Severus looked at him. Albus was frowning, his inquisitive eyes roaming Severus's face. When Albus turned to leave he stopped at Severus's elbow and said, "I will let you know when you can join us in the Order. I still need to find a place where we can meet."

Severus looked up at him in bewilderment. "What Order?" he asked stupidly for he could not quite believe it.

Albus smiled at him from under his beard. "The Order of the Phoenix, my boy, have you already forgotten what that is?"

Severus scowled and crossed his arms. "Last time I wasn't good enough for your Order …" he muttered petulantly and he felt that he had every right to be petulant.

Albus chuckled and put his hand on Severus's shoulder. "Last time you still had to prove yourself. And Lord Voldemort wasn't aware of our connection. Now he'll expect you to spy on me, and I will give you opportunity to do so … besides," Albus added and smiled, "you belong to us now, you have earned your rightful place among us. I want the others to know what you're doing for us."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't know whether to be grateful or angry. "You seem to have given it some thought … I'm flattered."

"It is all part of the plan, Severus … all this is part of it, I just don't yet know the exact end of it," said Albus thoughtfully. Then he gave Severus a nod and left. Walked away. He just walked away, leaving Severus to his emptiness.

It was already dinnertime when Severus shuffled down the marble stairs to the end-of-term feast. He knew that Albus would talk about Diggory's death and who had caused it. He would have liked to continue down into the dungeons but he scraped up what was left of his discipline and steered left into the Great Hall, straightening his back with an effort.

Black drapes had been hung behind the High Table and Severus felt as if they were looming over him reproachfully when he sat down in his usual chair. Right then Severus knew what he wanted. But he had stopped using his name. And now it seemed there was nothing he liked anymore. When he met McGonagall's eyes she averted hers far too quickly. Severus regretted his role in this play. He wished it could have stayed a secret. Now that everyone knew he had that horrible Mark on his arm, there was mistrust in their eyes. Brace yourself for what's to come. It won't be easy. No one will help you.

No one.

He felt Moody's – the real Moody's – blue eye on him and he hated it. Nothing he could do – now and in the future – would change that mistrust in everyone's eyes. Even McGonagall shot him curious sidelong glances. He always wondered what she thought of him. He thought that she respected him, maybe even liked him a little. What was she thinking now?

When Severus's eyes roamed the Great Hall they lingered on Harry Potter who was looking back at him. It was unbelievable that he had escaped the Dark Lord. Another time luck had won over power. And arrogance. Severus wondered if Potter was scared. If he behaved correctly he had no reason to be. Severus would see to his safety. And if Severus would, the whole wizarding world would. But as foolish as he knew Potter to be, the boy would probably do something silly again and get himself into trouble. It was exasperating. All efforts that were made for him were in vain.

Severus rubbed his arm. It was prickling again. And though it probably didn't mean anything, it made him nervous. He looked away from Potter for he couldn't bear his eyes on him anymore. He had probably figured out by now what Severus was doing. After all he had seen the Dark Mark. Severus hated it all. He felt naked. Displayed on a stage. And what means exactly were justified by the end?

When Albus got up to give the speech Severus had been dreading he stared at his hands rather stubbornly. McGonagall poured him some wine, though Severus would have appreciated some of her strongest Scotch.

"The end of another year."

A heavy pause followed and Severus swallowed. Even he felt miserable. Of course he did. But then again that was no great change, he felt miserable all the time. Now, though, there was a weight on his shoulders that pressed him down on the table. Albus's grave voice didn't help either.

"There is so much I would like to say to you all tonight but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Severus reacted a little later than the other teachers when McGonagall actually nudged him out of his trance. He stood, took his goblet, raised it and said "Cedric Diggory"; his voice was lost in the chorus and he wasn't even sure that his voice had worked at all. Then he nipped on his wine and it was dry and bitter and it made his throat feel like a desert. When everyone sat back down, Severus caught a glimpse of several weeping Hufflepuffs and for once he comprehended their tears.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities which distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know how it came about. Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Here we go, thought Severus and couldn't suppress a shudder. Sometimes Albus lacked subtlety. On purpose. But those were children sitting before him. Terrified children. If Severus couldn't stand this how could they? He rubbed his left arm again and hid it under the table. The whispers in the Hall died away and there was absolute silence. Severus didn't like silence. It reminded him.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that the attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Albus had a certain liking of trouble. He always did the right thing. But in the end, those who didn't want to believe would only believe when the Dark Lord was finally face to face with them. And then it would be too late. Draco and his friends were talking quietly. Severus wanted to beat some sense into them. Instead he would have to pretend to approve of them and their fathers. He clasped his hands. He wondered what else was coming that would make him feel even worse. He wondered when McGonagall would stop looking at him like a worried mother. He wondered if that was what she felt for him and if he'd like that.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Severus looked up and found the boy's face in the crowd. Potter looked as uncomfortable as Severus felt. The two of them were the only ones who knew the fright one felt in the Dark Lord's presence. Albus could never comprehend it. He was never scared of anything. He faced the Dark Lord as an equal. And those who were scared of the name couldn't even imagine how much more terrified one felt face to face with him who had killed for less than nothing. There was a difference, though, between Potter and him. Severus didn't run from the Dark Lord, he came to him of his own free will. It was ironic that both had equal success in surviving.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this I honour him."

As Dumbledore turned to Potter and raised his goblet Severus followed suit with almost everyone else in the Hall and got up, raising his goblet and uttering Potter's name more as a symbol than really out of respect for the boy. Many of his Slytherins stayed in their seats and made him feel ashamed of them, for McGonagall shot him a reproachful look. He couldn't help it though. It was all he could do to get up himself. As everyone sat down again, Severus wondered whether anyone would ever talk about him that way. Whether anyone would know that those things could be said of him at all. Would anyone ever raise their glass to him and utter his name in respect and gratefulness and – yes – honour? In the end, would anyone remember him and the fact that he was on the right side? Would anyone believe it? Or even care? One person would, Severus knew. And probably that was enough.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened – of Lord Voldemort's return – such ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here, at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again – in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.

"Lord Voldemort's gift of spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief – and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken – that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you, in this Hall, have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Waste of breath, Severus thought when he walked down to his rooms, loosening his collar. Enemies would stay enemies, strangers would stay strangers and those who could choose the easy way would do so. Maybe not all of them. Surely there were still some Gryffindors out there who were noble enough to choose the right way. The rest would act as if there was nothing they could do. Severus had never felt more like a Gryffindor than now.

Severus pushed open the door to his living room with his shoulder and let his outer robe slide to the floor, leaving it there to be picked up by the house elves. He was feeling more miserable than ever. Tomorrow he would have to go back to Spinner's End, which he never liked to do but now he liked it even less. His arm tingled unpleasantly and for a moment Severus feared it would turn into a burning. When it ceased he sighed in relief and scowled into the room. He needed to pull himself together, he needed to be ready at all times. Else he would be dead in no time.

No great loss. Good riddance in fact.

Severus went to the window and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Everything was cold. What was warmth again? What was pleasure again? He pitied himself some more before going to bed and rolling up into a ball to sleep.

He could feel his heart pounding violently in his chest. He could even hear it. It was giving him a headache. His lips moved automatically. His voice sounded so controlled. He could hardly believe it was himself speaking. He had never been so scared in his life.

„If it is really true what you have been telling me, Severus, you will be allowed to rejoin our circle. In a better position than I left you in. Lord Voldemort is generous, you will have the chance to prove yourself. To prove your loyalty."

The cold voice was echoing in his head. His heart was still pounding violently. He was so scared he could hardly breathe. And yet the words from that lipless mouth let him drop his guard for a split second, their eyes met, a secret thought slipped from behind a curtain, his heart nearly choked him. The Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it into Severus's face.

"Even so … I think a warning is in order."

With a yell Severus shot up in bed, panting. His heart was threatening to splinter his ribs. The moon's light illuminated the empty room, filtered by the curtains in front of the window. Everything was quiet. There was just Severus's breath. It was eerie.

Nightmare? said a mocking voice in his imagination.

"I wish," Severus whispered and looked to his left where there was no one to be looked at. The bed was cold. Desolate. He was still sleeping on the right side. The hand he had unconsciously reached out to his left had no one to touch. He pulled it back, for the sight hurt him, and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't let go.

Severus rubbed his stinging arm. Maybe just a glimpse. Only a short look at him. That would be alright, wouldn't it? Even though he had no idea where to find him. This bed was not a place he wanted to be in right now. He couldn't be here. And while he was awake he could … yeah, just take a glimpse. A glimpse wouldn't hurt.

The stairs were in his way, he would rather have run flat out to the iron wrought gates of the grounds but he couldn't take more than three steps at once without the risk of falling and breaking his skull. Not a very dignified death for a wizard. His fast steps echoed off the walls and it sounded like more than one person running through the Entrance Hall, it rather sounded like four or five people following him. He didn't turn around. There was no time to lose. For he didn't know where to go.

He stumbled through the gates out into the darkness and down the stone steps hurrying over the moist grass towards Hogsmeade. By the time he reached the iron gates he was panting and had to catch his breath before opening them.

"Where are you going, Severus?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned round with a glare. "Out!" he snapped and crossed his arms. Albus raised his eyebrows and considered him with concern on his face.

"A call?" asked he quietly.

Severus was bewildered for a moment before he realised what that was supposed to mean. He hesitated. "Something like that, yes," he muttered, looking anywhere but at Albus. After all, it was no one's business where he was going in the dead of night. He wasn't going to just disappear. All he wanted was … Albus was suddenly smiling and Severus didn't like it at all.

"I see … I'm sure you'll find your way," said he and his eyes twinkled. "Take care."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him when he opened the gates to let him out. He didn't like the way Albus knew everything. It reminded him of … of course … of whom else? He stepped out of the magical field that guarded the grounds and turned on the spot without looking back, concentrating hard on where he wanted to go. When next his feet touched the ground it was mossy and soft. He was standing in the middle of a forest where the light of the moon just reached him. Was this where he lived? Severus couldn't see a house all round him, but then again it was probably protected. He would have to walk a bit to reach it. His home. A place that made Severus's imagination run wild. What did it look like? What did it feel like to be there? He would never be allowed to enter, right? He didn't have the words to ask for it. Now, that he wanted it most.

Severus decided to just walk deeper into the forest and was thankful for the soft ground that muffled his steps. The further he walked the stronger was his feeling that he was going into the right direction. When he reached the magical barrier that was supposed to work as an alert against intruders, he took out his wand and made a hole into it that he could slip through without being detected. He knew the other's magical signature so well that it was no problem to see through the structure of the spell. It was pleasantly familiar.

He continued on and only a few steps later he could see it standing in the middle of a clearing. The little house in the woods resembled its owner greatly. Though the garden was neat and well-cared for, with all kinds of vegetables, herbs and flowers in its patches, the house itself was showing strain and old age. The paint was coming off at places, peeling from the stone walls and the door, several tiles missing from the roof, the curtains that were drawn behind the stained glass of the windows moth-eaten; all in all it was a shabby old house, and yet there was a certain grace about it, the way it stood there, surrounded by trees in the half-darkness of the last minutes of night, as if it were holding itself straight backed to show the beholder that the outside didn't matter, that it made a nice home. And Severus was sure it did. Knowing who lived in it. Visible behind one of the windows on the first floor. Severus's breath hitched.

Remus.

There was a golden glimmer there, around his silhouette. Severus could just discern his tired features from this distance. It was calming to see him. He was sitting on the window sill, reading. He looked troubled. There was no doubt that Black had told him everything about the Dark Lord's return. But luckily Black was nowhere to be seen. It was only Remus. And though his name hurt Severus, his sight was soothing. For a moment, Severus thought about knocking on the door. Asking if he could come in. Smell him, feel him, touch him, kiss him.

But he had no right. The only thing he dared do was stand in the shadows just outside his garden fence and look at him. Dawn was breaking. Severus had not slept well in days. His hand was clutched tightly around his forearm. He jumped when the shadows of the surrounding trees lengthened. For a second he thought it was his master, looming over him. He shuddered. Alive. You're alive. You did it. Again.

And now he was here. Looking up at the unreachable object of his desires. He had found this place quite automatically. His great longing had guided him here. The longing he had felt ever since that fateful day. He couldn't help it. And when Remus ran one of his delicate hands through his soft golden-grey hair and Severus could swear that the scent of it was in his nose, and the well known shiver ran through his body, he knew why. There was nothing in this insignificant world that mattered. Right now, there was only that man up there behind the glass, looking so exhausted and distraught as Severus felt. And it was wonderfully distracting.

Remus yawned and closed the book in his lap, rubbed his eyes and for a moment looked as though he was fighting a crying fit. His face screwed up as if in pain, he laid his head back against the wall and heaved an enormous sigh. He made to fling his book from him but seemed to think better of it and just dropped it out of sight. Then he directed his gleaming eyes out of the window, looking thoughtful and somewhat desperate, sorrowful. What might it be that he was thinking about? Severus loved to imagine, loved to watch him, it was easier than being himself, thinking himself. Was Remus worrying about Potter? About the Dark Lord? Or perhaps…

For a second, their eyes met in the twilight and Severus knew that Remus had noticed him for his brows knitted and his forehead creased. He made to retreat into the darkness of the trees but then Remus was distracted, possibly by a voice in the room, and looked behind him. Next moment Black walked into view and laid his hand on Remus's shoulder, talking to him. There was a furious fire raging in Severus's stomach very suddenly. He walked slowly backwards and out of Remus's sight, for when Remus looked back at the place where he had been, his eyes roamed the grass, the trees, the darkness. When finding nothing, he rose and let himself be pulled away by the arm, following Black. The light was extinguished and Severus slumped against the tree behind which he was hiding and cursed Black so viciously that he was sure that in a second a bolt of lightning would strike through the roof of Remus's house and kill the bastard right there. Oh, cruel dreams, treacherous hope. Severus just managed to pull himself together enough to convince himself that Black had not led Remus to bed. At least not in the sense that would mean that he would die of strangulation by Severus's bare hands.

A last hopeful glance at the old tattered house assured him, that no one was stirring within and staring at the windows didn't make sense anymore. Nonetheless Severus stood gazing at the house that resembled its inhabitant so much for how long he didn't know before Disapparating to Hogsmeade.

A fire was already crackling in the sitting room when Severus entered it in the morning, suitcase packed, ready to depart. Albus was sitting in an armchair, waiting for him with folded hands and absent eyes. Severus cleared his throat in irritation and Albus looked up, startled and apparently unaware that it was highly impolite to intrude into others' private rooms unasked. He smiled at Severus who dropped his suitcase carelessly to the floor and turned away to pick up the two sets of chess pieces that still held a grudge against him.

"What is it, Headmaster?" Severus asked over the squeaking screams of the pieces whom he thought to be impertinent and insensitive to think that he was less disappointed than them or that they missed Remus more than he did. Nobody possibly could.

"Well, Severus, I wanted to talk to you about the further proceedings," replied Albus and – by the sound of it – summoned a tea kettle to pour them both a cup of hot water. "Where do you have the tea, my boy?"

Severus straightened up and scowled. Somehow his mood had become worse rather than better by his nocturnal visit. Probably because he had seen and not just imagined that there was somebody else now who kept Remus company. Whereas he, Severus, was still alone. He looked round at Albus who was still smiling patiently. Alone was definitely a matter of definition. Severus walked to the cupboard where he kept his tea and put some of it into the cups. Albus gave him a nod and indicated him to sit down.

"I hope your night was pleasant," said Albus casually and nipped on his tea. Severus glared at him but made no answer so Albus continued, "Anyway, the Order has been largely reassembled – or rather those who are left of it have agreed to rejoin it." He paused with a sad smile. "I have asked them to try and find new members, and Alastor has already agreed to talk to his former colleagues at the Ministry. I believe we have good chances of forming an adequate group."

"I don't," said Severus honestly. Albus gave him a look but didn't comment.

"So while I'm looking for a place to meet at, the others will look for new members and you," he looked into Severus's eyes and continued, "will go home and wait."

"Excuse me?" said Severus in indignation, "What do you mean 'go home and wait'?"

"I will contact you as soon as everything is ready. But until that moment I want you to stay put and wait."

"Wait for what? For the chance to prove myself? Why am I kept in the dark? You probably don't trust me after all!" snapped Severus and knew it wasn't true. But he felt left out, and angry. He feared Albus knew that he didn't trust himself with his task.

Albus gave him a serious look over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Of course I trust you, Severus. You know I do. But until safety measures have been taken and nothing can go wrong anymore, I don't want to risk our plans to be exposed. I know you are struggling, Severus, you still need time to readjust. And that isn't anything you need to be ashamed of," he added when Severus huffed audibly. "But nothing may go wrong, now, Severus, you know how important that is. You of all people should understand that I cannot share everything with you. But when the time comes, you know you will be the one I'll rely on."

Severus leaned back and looked at the ceiling, embarrassed and feeling rather unworthy. He wasn't the right one for all this. "I am tired of waiting," he muttered.

"I know Severus. But we must be patient."

There was silence between them for a while and they listened to the birds outside. Then Severus looked round at Albus and rubbed his arm as he had done so many times during the last year. "Is the right way always the best way, Headmaster?" he asked and since he knew what Albus's answer would be he didn't wait for it, "I mean, Potter's great nobility cost another boy his life. This time it wasn't even Potter's own stupid heroism, it was his Gryffindor character that you value so much. Had he been egoistic, Diggory would still be alive. And – as far as you have told me – if Potter hadn't let Pettigrew go that … that night a year ago," said Severus and paused for a moment for the memory was clear and painful in his mind, "if he had let Black and … if he had let them kill the murderer of his parents, the Dark Lord would have had to wait much longer for his return. We would have had more time to prepare. What use is it to be noble and good if it only causes you pain?"

Albus looked at him with a small smile and Severus scowled at him. He was feeling like a student again. He didn't like to be patronised. "I think your argument is a little one-sided, you tend to look at the negative sides only," said Albus and leaned towards him. "Just imagine, Severus, how many people could have been saved in the past and could be saved in the future, if all of us acted as nobly as Harry does. Of course, you never know the result, and had Harry known what was waiting for him, he would have gone alone, leaving Cedric in safety, which would have been noble as well," he continued and after a slight pause he added quietly, "Just imagine, Severus, if you had acted nobly a year ago, what the result could have been."

Severus found that last comment rather cruel and unnecessary. But Albus had made his point. And there was no arguing, for it was true.

"Oh, and, Severus," said Albus when he got up to leave, "I might need you for something else, when the time comes … as you know, Voldemort and Harry are connected. It might become necessary for Harry to learn Occlumency."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. "Meaning?" he asked slowly.

Albus smiled. "Meaning that I don't know a better Occlumens than you."

Then it dawned on Severus. "No!" he said and sprang to his feet. "Absolutely not! Teach him yourself if you must, but I won't!"

"Maybe it won't even be necessary … but if it will, I need you to do it. I cannot give Voldemort the opportunity to use this connection while Harry is alone with me. That would be foolish. And you are the only one who can help Harry to learn to close his mind to Voldemort's."

Severus knew that it wasn't a request. There was no way to get out of it. Another reason to feel miserable. His life was getting better by the day, wasn't it?

"Have a good journey home, Severus," said Albus and left Severus glaring after him. After a few minutes he sighed and accepted his fate. He picked up his suitcase and resisted the urge to rub his arm. The tingling was becoming warmer and warmer.