A/N: this fic will be edited, promise. It's just that I am keen to get to action. (And I know Pomphrey is spelled Pomfrey, it's something subliminal. Bear with me.)

And life marched on, with all its lessons, accidents, breaks, disappearances, meals, funerals, Governors' meetings, teacher conferences, Ministry inspections, and Horcruxes.

(Because it was unconceivable that the Dark Lord hadn't made some in his years of advancing the Dark Arts. It would have been akin to preparing to a practical demonstration to him, and Snape had to admit, rising out of a cauldron bubbling with some arcane brew had more flair than his own customary 'Instructions are on the board.')

('I know how to destroy them. I know how to not destroy them, which is equally important. I just need to know what to look for!'

'There's Nagini… I'm sorry, my boy. I would have told you…'

'But you have, haven't you.')

He couldn't help noticing that his jokes had become rather flat, but at least he never told them to any living soul.

Actually, there were few jokes being told at all – people were too used to walking on eggshells. He needed to boost morale before they gave up and surrendered.

(Not that Dumbledore's Army would ever do that, but they were an isolated minority, and his concerns encompassed all students and almost all professors.)

What could he do? What would Albus do?

A joyride to the Philosopher's Stone? A Triwizard Tournament? A Defense Teacher from Hell?

…on the other hand, perhaps Albus had taken it too far and spoiled the population by both variety and intensity of his distractions.

What to do, what to do. When you haven't the foggiest idea what to do, make a list of it.

1. The Dark Lord and his servants. Somehow overthrow, have a court of justice (no loose ends this time) and bury in an unmarked grave.

2. Potter. Find a way to not slaughter.

3. Hogwarts. Find another D. A. D. A. Professor for next year (ask Beaubaton?)

4. Longbottom. Import Augusta and scare out, man and toad.

5. Firenze. Invent a cure.

(… oh right, when Dumbledore's approach fails you, turn to Dippet – he hadn't done too badly, considering.)

Cheered by Ogden, Snape allowed himself to take a look at his immediate to-dos.

He had to have an army and a plan, obviously. Two plans – of victory and of retreat.

Recruiting boys and girls was out of the question; therefore he had to talk to matured, trustworthy, trained in combat wizards and witches. And the Order of the Phoenix considered him a traitor.

(Now there's a conundrum, as Lucius said when Narcissa made him sign their wedding invitations.) Although the Order, too, had lost a lot of members recently. And those who remained…

There were the Weasleys, an organization in themselves. Clearly more of the Retreating and (Constantly) Regrouping type. He could have Minerva contact them to overlook the exodus of students, when the Dark Lord moved to capture his keep.

Perhaps he should rely more on the younger generation who hadn't been dear friends with Albus. Bill and Fleur? He should look into it…

There were the Lupins. It was morally wrong to involve them, except, maybe, Andromeda Tonks.

There was Aberforth, a unique man with a chicken's heart and an elephant's willpower. How to conscript him, Snape had no idea. He certainly needed the Right Circumstances touch.

And the Headmaster suffered from acute lack of Right Circumstances.

(As sixteen-year-old Filius Flitwick had put it, Good news, why don't you love me back. It was a hit (according to Albus) and the only poem he actually finished (according to Filius), mostly because it consisted of only one line (according to himself).)

There were… who else? Aurors, who could – who undoubtedly had been – put under Imperius since before Pius was elected? Not funny. Potter and Co? They had their own task. Did he have to do everything single-handedly?

Damnation. Even the Flamels were gone.

There were Hogwarts Professors, with whom he had spent the better part of the last seventeen years or more. And House Elves, who had never had a cause to hurt anybody for any cause, and he knew this wasn't a barrier lightly overstepped. They would kill for him, but what was the price?

He wanted to shield them all, but there was no choice – somebody had to fight.

Of course, Pomona, Sybil, Poppy, Argus, Aurora and the centaur would have to be evacuated. The Dark Lord would not pity anyone. But each of the Death Eaters had studied seven years in this very school – they might know the place worse than those who'd lived here for decades, but they would lead in werewolves, Snatchers, Dementors.

Giants, too.

He had to have a tactical advantage.

Maybe he could change the architecture, or set gates and gargoyles asking for specific passwords at intervals throughout the first two stories… but that would confuse the long-time residents as well… and he wouldn't have the time – he'd have to send the students away… oh how he wanted to send everything away… he had to think…

'Severus. Severus!'

'What?' he asked without raising his head.

'Somebody set off alarms in Hogsmeade.'