Chapter Four
SS
"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to?" Snape asked fervently. He could scarcely believe what the Albus Dumbledore was asking of him. It was impossible. Incredible. Inconceivable. Severus would much sooner kill himself than the Headmaster. How could he ask him of this?
The selfish part of Severus wanted the curse to kill Dumbledore, slowly and painfully. The old bastard deserved it for asking him yet again to destroy his soul.
He said as much, to which the Headmaster replied that he would know if it would tear his soul apart to ease an old man's suffering.
Puh. What about Severus' own suffering? Who would then put him out of his misery?
Well, that question hardly needed asking. He had enough enemies (and the wrong kind of friends) so as to never have to worry about people not wanting him dead.
And what did he mean, when the Dark Lord starts fearing for the life of Nagini? Yet again, Albus was keeping him in the dark. Not only him, but he was also keeping Harry Potter in the dark as well. Not that Severus cared for the boy's feelings, but he was the hope for the wizarding world, it would make sense to share what he knew. Severus did not approve of the Headmaster's methods. Whatever Albus was hiding from the boy, he knew it was for the wrong reasons. Potter was 17 after all, past the age of mollycoddling, surely. Ignorance may be bliss, but there were larger concerns to be consider. Happiness didn't figure in to most things. If Albus was trying to spare Potter from painful knowledge Severus could imagine it benefited only Potter, but even that gift would turn into a curse in the end.
Albus was just too soft-hearted, that was all. Severus would have gladly enlightened the boy himself, except that Dumbledore hadn't told him either. He doubted it was for the same reason though. He didn't think Dumbledore ever tried to spare him any trouble or pain. Perhaps he was still doing his penance for having become a Death Eater in the first place. No, instead he was sent back every time, back to the Dark Lord. He was forced to witness the most horrific scenes and participate in the most abominable acts. How many people did he have to let die? When would it all finally stop? He wanted everything to stop. He wanted to be able to stop. Forever.
Yes, he'd gladly take a day, an afternoon, hell, even an hour in which he could simply stop working, stop worrying, stop thinking. He found no pleasure in anything these days, not in good books, not in sumptuous food. Every minute of his life he spent preoccupied with the damned war, and trying to constantly shift his masks effectively, trying to order his mind so that the next time Voldemort looked inside it, he'd see nothing and yet everything he wanted; arranging lies as truths and truths as lies. It took up all his time and Severus felt as old as Dumbledore looked. It took all of his effort to maintain the facade. He'd spent so long playing a part he wasn't sure who he truly was anymore.
The only calming thought was of Lily, but he couldn't think of her without pain so he often didn't. Not unless he was very desperate or feeling very weak.
Severus left the Headmaster's office, an ache in his jaw from having clenched it so tightly.
O
If he had any room in his soul to find humour in anything, it would have been laughable that he still had to teach on top of all his other duties. Marking essays and giving lectures and making sure that the first years and Longbottom didn't blow themselves up. Severus was convinced that the O.W.L examiner had been entirely too lax, if Longbottom could make an O in the exam, forcing the boy into his classroom for another two years. As if he didn't have enough nuisances already.
He stalked through his classroom, watching his students attempting to brew. He huffed right passed Granger, not being able to find any faults. And it was like his father always insisted, if you can't say anything mean, don't say anything at all.
While she wasn't twitchy around him anymore, she was still cautious, respectful, and kept her distance. Or at least she pretended to. He knew (suspected rather) that she had broken into his stores again, filching half a dozen of his best specimens of hellebore. The cheek. First she makes him waste an entire day minding her in his own office, and to repay him, she nicked his finest ingredients.
He planned to confront her when he found the time. Severus could admit that had it been Potter, he probably would have found the time immediately, but since it was Granger, he let it slide. For the moment... He really wanted to find out what she was brewing before he did confront her, that way he could swoop in and completely demoralise her in one go. She was making this difficult, however, because she was deliberately denying him the chance of using Legilimency on her. She learnt her lesson in his office the other day. Cursed girl always was too quick a study.
He would have to resort to utterly un-Slytherin tactics and force a confrontation to startle her into letting down whatever Occlumency shields she'd been practicing.
When class was over he quickly told them their homework, and added casually that he was taking 50 points from Gryffindor. Potter and Weasley turned and glared at him.
"What for? We haven't done anything!"
"I'm sure Miss Granger could tell you," he replied silkily.
Granger, in typical Gryffindor fashion, blanched visibly, broadcasting her guilt to all the world. Her two companions looked at her curiously and she frantically waved them away, trying to shoo them from the room. "We'll talk in the common room," she told them.
Once the room had cleared Granger came demurely up to his desk. Gryffindors didn't do 'meek' very well. He was beginning to wish she'd go back to her old self.
"Sir?"
"You know why you are here, I suppose?" he told her.
"I'd prefer you tell me," she insisted.
Severus fought off the urge to snort. This was her way of saying that there were a number of things she could be in trouble for, and she didn't know for which she was being punished.
"Very well." He'd play her game, simply because the less time they wasted dancing around the issue, the better. "What do you think would be the proper penalty for breaking into my personal stores and stealing ingredients?"
Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she finally looked up at him. He'd made her forget that she was aiming not to make eye contact. Now he'd subtly search her mind.
"How do you know it was me?" she asked, part defensively, part curiously.
"Deduction," he said silkily. "Honestly, if you wanted to remain anonymous you shouldn't have left gold to pay for it, Granger. Only a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff would reimburse someone for something they stole, but a Hufflepuff wouldn't dare pilfer from me in the first place. Having narrowed it down thus far, Ms. Granger, how many of your housemates do you imagine would need rare ingredients, let alone have the Charms capability of breaking through my wards and the knowledge of potions to take the five best specimens of hellebore in my stores?"
As he spoke these words he searched her mind. Unfortunately his lecture was bringing up only the memories of her in the act of stealing. So he tried another prod in a different direction.
"We both already know you are doing a bit of an extracurricular brewing project, do we not?" he goaded.
And then... he saw.
'Merciful Merlin," he thought disbelievingly. Horcruxes. That's what Dumbledore had been hiding from him, that's what those little field trips with Potter were about. That's what Hermione Granger's mind had betrayed to him. Horcruxes. Plural. Severus was taken so thoroughly aback that he didn't know how to react, so he resorted to the default cruelty.
"Get out, Granger. Detention. And if you dare to enter my stores again, it will be for the rest of your life."
It wasn't at all his best threat but he was entirely distracted. Granger lingered there nervously for a moment, looking as if she wanted to ask something but he didn't have the patience for her anymore.
"OUT!" he bellowed.
She fled.
Damn Dumbledore for not having told him! Horcruxes. Of course. Did the Headmaster not think that would have been useful to know? Damn the man! Did the mad wizard plan on telling him before he died? Or rather, before he forced Severus to kill him? Somehow Severus doubted it, and it filled him with fresh fury and yes, fear.
He paced back and forth in his office, debating whether to confront the Headmaster, or keep this new information to himself.
0
Severus had been surly for the rest of the day, taking out his frustration with the Headmaster and the war on his next classes. He didn't attend supper in the Great Hall either. He hadn't sorted out his mind well enough to be face-to-face with Albus.
A knock at his door tore his mind away from his mental debate. The interruption was unwelcome and made him snarl.
"What?" he asked, flinging open the door.
It was Granger. He wanted to shout at her some more, but it did not do to shoot the messenger. It wasn't her fault Albus was lying to him and concealing things from him. In fact, if it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't know about it at all. And one this was certain though. If this potion she was working on involved horcruxes, he wanted to be involved. Something of that importance was first on his agenda.
"You didn't specify the time or place of the detention, sir. I thought it best to ask clarification to avoid a misunderstanding," she said. Her speech was stilted and pretentious. He recognised that as a defence mechanism. Severus used it too. It kept a firm, impersonal barrier between oneself and one's interlocutor.
For the sake of knowledge, he'd have to try to contain his temper. He wanted as much information out of this girl as she possessed. Seeing as this was Hermione 'the Know-it-All' Granger, that probably meant a lot. For the first time, he didn't begrudge her for it. The more she knew, the more in turn he would know. He had to play nice.
Quickly looking out into the hall to make sure there were no passers-by (also known as witnesses), he invited her into his office.
"Sit down, Miss Granger," he said civilly, indicating the seat across from him.
She did so, putting aside all pretence. Good. She knew why she was really here. That would make things easier.
HG
His lack of usual venom disconcerted her and Hermione felt wrong footed. Uneasy. On guard. Mostly, she simply felt inescapable doom moving steadily toward her. He'd cornered her. This was the end. She told herself not to panic. There was always a way out. She'd managed in Umbridge's office in fifth year, hadn't she? But then again, that was a Ministry toady and this was Severus Snape. One of the most brilliant wizards of the day. There would be no way she could pull the wool over the eyes of a master double agent. It was his job to see through things.
"I have been trying, Miss Granger," he began, "for several weeks now to determine just what it could be that you are trying to brew."
Her jaw clenched in resolution not to speak.
"You will tell me, Miss Granger," he insisted.
She shook her head. "I can't."
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I could threaten you with expulsion, or even arrest, Miss Granger. And you and I both know that if you do not tell me now willingly, I shall simply be forced to take the information from your mind directly, anyway. Before they come to cart you away to Azkaban..."
His scowl darkened even more.
It wasn't as if she could lie to a Master Legilimens. To her frustration, she found that she was almost at the point of tears. She knew he was right. And he was the Order's spy. There were worse people she could confess to. "Because I think... I'm afraid..." She was crying now but she pressed on despite it. It came out in one long tumbled, jumbled string of almost incomprehensible words. "Because I'm terrified that Harry might be one of Voldemort's Horcruxes and I don't want him to have to die!" There. She said it. She was shaking from trying to suppress the sobs, but tears and snot dribbled down her face. She cried for Harry, cried for the wizarding world, and selfishly for herself, because she knew now she'd be forced to leave Hogwarts, leave her friends and most likely spend the next who knew how long in Azkaban for being caught experimenting with dangerous, dark and illegal magicks. She conjured a tissue and wiped her face, desperately trying to get a hold of herself.
Snape said nothing, did nothing. He just watched her with a cold, calculating look.
She managed to pull herself together. "Please don't send me to Azkaban, sir. The Ministry can't know what I'm working on. It would ruin Harry's chances of finding and destroying them! If You-Know-Who knew what we were doing..." A hiccough halted her speech, and she found that she didn't have the wherewithal to continue.
"Why did you not come to me before? I am the Order's Potions Master," he pointed out with a calmness and rationality that surprised her. Yes, why hadn't she? Because they were used to doing things on their own. Because they weren't supposed to tell anyone about it. Because it was illegal.
While those were all true, she knew the real answer as to why she hadn't asked help from anybody. Fear.
"Because, sir, I assumed you had more important things to do with your time," she hedged.
"You think a potion such as this wouldn't interest me?"
"But I don't even know if it will work! It's only in the experimental stages. How could I trouble you with something that will most likely amount to nothing."
He simply arched an eyebrow. Discomfited by the continued silence, she felt compelled to keep talking. "I didn't want anyone to know about a failure. You'd only mock me," she admitted. She had spent so long trying to get the Potion Master's approval. She'd struggled so hard in his class to prove that she wasn't just another dunderhead. She wanted to show him that she really was an intelligent and capable potion brewer, why would she offer him this unfinished, unsuccessful project and give him more ammunition to hurl at her?
"A failure? Miss Granger, I begin to question your knowledge of potion making."
"Sir?"
"I assure you, Miss Granger, I know 58 ways not to make a delectation draught."
"What's a delectation draught?" she asked, embarrassed at having to admit her ignorance in front of the perspicacious potions master, but having no choice.
"A brew I created myself. Not getting it right the first time does not mean failure, Ms. Granger. It's a step toward success. So come," he said, opening his arm and indicating the door to his lab. "Let us take that first step."
Was he honestly suggesting what she thought he was? She would be brewing with him? A disturbing and exhilarating thought. She'd have a genuine Potion Master helping her with her project. The things he could contribute, the knowledge she could glean from merely watching him! Hermione tried to curtail the sudden need to squeal with glee, as she knew it would displease the dour professor.
This had gone so much better than she had ever imagined. She'd expected months of detentions at best, years of prison at worst. But this. Oh, this was nothing less than a godsend. With the professor's help and discretion, they might be able to save Harry.
The moment they were in his lab, she began searching through her bag. She always kept her notes with her, for fear they'd be discovered by someone else when she wasn't there. Still, she kept it safe-guarded at all times. No one could read them but her. To everyone else, it would appear as History of Magic notes from September. She smoothed the parchment out on the tabletop and tapped it with her wand and muttered, "Severus Snape," under her breath so that her professor too, could read it.
She handed them over to him apprehensively but excited to see what he would think, wondering what contributions he might make, what suggestions he could provide. She'd taken careful notes of everything she'd used, how she'd gone about it, and the results of her trials. He spent the next half hour reading, and the next hour and a half after that discussing her notes and reworking her base. He also suggested a change in cauldron size. Although it was a relatively small amount of potion, a larger cauldron would distribute the heat more evenly along the bottom. She had agreed, and admitted that the only reason she hadn't already done that was because she didn't have a larger cauldron to hand, or the space in which to work with one.
"Now you do," he said simply, but didn't elaborate. She didn't feel like admitting that she'd been using the girls' toilet on the second floor to do her brewing again. She wasn't certain he knew about the polyjuice in her second year, but in case he did, she felt it best not to remind him.
Now she had a real lab to work in. It was almost dizzying to contemplate. He was offering his labs to her. It was her inner teacher's pet's dream come true. Part of her felt fulfilled. Accomplished. As if she'd finally done something worth his regard. Of course, that hadn't been why she'd started this project. She'd wanted to save Harry. This was just a delightful bonus. The notice and acknowledgement of Professor Snape, the use of his labs, and the benefit of his tutelage. He was even slightly less caustic than usual. He listened to her ideas without snide comments, only gave reasonable points why her ideas may or may not work.
Yes, it was a good thing indeed he'd forced her to tell him.
O
It was past eleven o'clock before he'd told her to get back to Gryffindor tower, and that they'd continue this later. She wanted to ask when, but didn't want to seem overeager. She felt that if she hadn't spent the entire day with him earlier, she wouldn't have been able to so easily handle being in his presence for so long. Luckily, it seemed that fate had stepped in and given her some practice in handling him.
"Sorry about stealing from your stores, sir," she apologised as she was leaving his office.
He glared at her, as if that had been an incredibly gauche thing to say, so she left with no further comment.
As she made her way back to her dormitory she tried to think of something to tell the boys when they asked what Professor Snape made her do in detention. Perhaps slicing rat spleens and pickling newt eyes... That at least would explain why her hands smelled of ingredients. She wondered if the boys would even notice that anyway.
SS
The boy was a Horcrux. No wonder the Headmaster hadn't told him about any of this. Had he been given more time to think, he would doubtlessly had come to the same conclusion as Granger had. The Potter boy was a Horcrux, and Dumbledore had spent the last decade and a half using Lily's memory to keep her son alive as motivation to do what he wanted of him. Now, it turned out Albus was just using the boy, leading him blindly like a lamb to the slaughter.
He most certainly wouldn't tell the Headmaster he knew. Granger hadn't told Potter about (of which Severus approved) so Dumbledore wouldn't find out Severus had learned of it second-hand.
Severus could get his information through Granger about Albus and Potter about any Horcrux developments. He'd have to keep that connection open, no matter what. Meaning he couldn't terrorise her, scare her away. He thought he'd done a decent job that evening. Encouraging her where needed to make her want to return to him. He was a spy through and through. Manipulation was just part of the trade.
And now he could circumvent the Headmaster's machinations. If Granger's potion was successful, Potter wouldn't have to die like his mother, a sacrifice, and Lily's son would continue to be safe. Severus' debt might finally be repaid and he might attain peace at last.
If this war didn't claim his life. Which it might.
The thought, oddly, didn't bother him.
Death, too, would be peace.