Chapter 10: To Decapitate a Snake

"Your Slytherins have been making quite the stand for themselves haven't they? All this talk of House-unity. Why it brings a tear to my old Gryffindor eyes."

Snape raised a thin eyebrow as he looked up from the swirling bowl of silver to meet the eyes of a smiling Dumbledore. "Do not insult me by comparing Slytherins to Gryffindors."

The old headmaster huffed lightly. "Why heavens no. Gryffindors have never been so cohesive. If anything the harmonious House had always been the trait of Hufflepuffs."

Snape scowled, taking that comment rightfully as an insult.

"Still…" A frown touched the headmaster's bushy brows. "I cannot help but worry."

"Slytherin has always been a House that stood apart from the others." Snape grumbled, hoping the old man would drop the issue.

Dumbledore regarded him, blue eyes peering piercingly over his half-moon glasses. "Until recently, Slytherin had also been a House that stood apart from itself."

Snape scowled and did not reply. The fear of being made to hand over once more the little niche of comfort he had made for himself. To his immense relief, the headmaster finally turned his attention back to his Pensieve.

Their Thursday sessions had taken a far more relaxed tone. Dumbledore had long since finished with his memories of the second war, ending with the final moments of Snape's life. The younger man wondered if the headmaster was affected, staring into the eyes of that seventeen year old boy who was destined to die at the man's own askance.

Perhaps that assessment was unfair. This Dumbledore at the very least had not yet laid those orders, the guilt should not yet be his to bear. Why should he, for actions he had not yet committed?

It was exactly the opposite situation to Snape's own.

The once-Professor stared distantly into the bowl of silver the headmaster had poured over. The image of the silver hand floated to the surface, something Snape recalled seeing fixed upon an older and dishevelled Peter Pettigrew. These objects had become Dumbledore's new focus, extracting knowledge and spells that do not yet exist in this time.

They had been conducting this exercise since the week before, and as the old headmaster had pointed out cheerfully, "It really is convenient that you had been a man of the scholarly persuasion." Indeed, as a professor, Snape had exposure to all manner of spells that would come though the various faculties of this school. That had been the original intent of the exercise, to go through the yet-uninvented spells that Snape had seen and slowly dissect their mechanisms between their two genius-levelled spell-crafting minds. However towards the end of their last session they had hit a snag, by which the Headmaster had found himself unwilling to move on from.

Dumbledore had been fixated upon the complex spells Snape had come about during the dark times of his life. The magical substitute hand the pathetic Pettigrew had sported, as well as the gift of unaided flight. Two spells that did not exist in this time, or indeed in his last life either, for they were spells created by the Dark Lord. Sharing for the betterment of the world was not a point upon his manifesto.

Snape had been personally the gifted the power of unaided flight, but as with all spells the Dark Lord created it was not without a catch. The problem with this spell was though Snape could cast it with relatively little effort, he did not understand its mechanisms. There was no words of incantation, nor complex channelling, or spell juggling. It was a simple application of spell power and intent. It was as if the Dark Lord had laid an enchantment upon him like he would an object. Afterwards, the power had appeared to him suddenly as if it had always come naturally.

This was what was consistent between the known spells the Dark Lord's creation. They had been crafted in a form that made it impossible to learn without his consent, and once learnt it was made impossible to pass on to another. These two miraculous examples of that madman's great power, two spells that could have shaped the world immeasurably, kept out of the world's reach through a complex spell weaving that even Snape could not truly understand.

"Are you able to still fly?" Dumbledore had asked him the week before, and without knowing whether it would work Snape had stood and channelled. He had not yet had cause or privacy to work through the extent of his abilities, but without practice he instinctively knew it would still come to him. The magic responded as if no time or change touched its course, and without any difficulty he lifted from the ground to the delight of the headmaster.

"It's like an enchantment you say?" The headmaster inquired as he watched his younger counterpart float back into his seat.

With a grimace Snape had shook his head. "I cannot say for certain."

And it was with that uncertain direction those two spells had become the priority of Dumbledore's curiosity, the other spells they had planned to explore lay untouched within Snape's mind. The younger man tried not to sigh as he wondered what use was his presence today. Apart from some simple exchanges of current affairs, most of today's session had been spent with Dumbledore's head in the bowl.

It was another ten minutes before the headmaster finally came up for breath again, no closer to solving either of his puzzles by the furrow between his bushy brows.

"I have Transfigurations tomorrow you know." Snape muttered scathingly.

Dumbledore blinked and met his eyes with an expression of muted amusement. "My apologies Severus. I do find myself carried away sometimes." Almost reluctantly, he gathered up the memories in the bowl and bottled them up. "Unless you have any more to add, I do believe this might be a query best left for my private pursuits."

"Nothing to add." Snape replied dryly. He's long since given up on untangling the maddened webs of the Dark Lord's brilliant mind. It had once been one of his personal pursuits to understand the power of flight he had been gifted, but as brilliant as his own mind had been it proved to be a fruitless endeavour. Without even an incantation he could not begin to understand how the basics of the spell worked.

"Hmm. Shame." With a flourishing gesture of his unwanded hand, Dumbledore sent the vial of memories into its storage. "Well, as you say, you have classes to attend tomorrow and we have already burnt much of our evening fuel. What say we find one last article to muse upon?"

Snape leant forward ready to oblige, ready to do something, anything to dull the boredom of inactivity. He felt the probing approach of Dumbledore's Legilimency, and with some effort he parted the veil of his own mind, allowing the headmaster in. No spell knowledge pushed into the forefront of his mind this time, instead a list of potioneering developments rolled by. Knowledge he had known intimately, and partially pioneered.

But slowly as the potions ticked by, the browsing stopped, focusing on one brew in particular.

"You have a masterfully complete knowledge of this potion despite its complexity." Dumbledore complimented. Snape was not fooled by a second by that mask of flattery.

"I know what you wish to ask but my answer is no. I will not brew it for that werewolf." With a forceful pull of his mind, Snape closed the Wolfsbane potion away.

A frown touched Dumbledore's bushy brows. "But Severus, if it is able to do what your memory tells me it does it would improve the boy's life immeasurably."

"Then mores the pity for him that he's a blasted Marauder."

The furrow softened upon the old man's brows. "You would have him suffer for the wrongs of his friends?"

"I would. And more." Silence fell between them. Snape scowled, feeling judging eyes fall upon him from a man whose judgement he refused to bear.

"Severus." Dumbledore tried again, this time voice gentle and coaxing. "I do not pretend to understand the depth of your animosity. But if you do this you would be helping more than just Lupin."

"Good thing Damocles Belby is working on it as we speak. He is the true inventor of this potion and I will not be stealing credit from the man."

Dumbledore nodded once in agreement. "I admire your noble refusal to claim credit for other people's work, however perhaps such measures are unwarranted. I have the personal pleasure of knowing Damocles and happen to know that he would have developed the potion for personal reasons, not for personal gain. He would be the first to agree with me when I say the benefits of the potion's early emergence into the world outweigh the benefits of one man's claim to fame."

Snape unkindly sneered. "For the greater good?"

The silence that fell between them was sudden and heavy. No outward darkening of expression touched Dumbledore's calm aspect but Snape could sense the old man's immediate change of mood. This was the first time speaking with this new Dumbledore that Snape had felt he might have overstepped his bounds.

The silence eventually parted. "Have you seen them then? My memories?"

Snape dipped his head in acknowledgement, unwilling to meet the headmaster's eyes. "Yes." With a quick glimpse up he saw the weariness upon Dumbledore's wizened face.

"Then you must have many questions."

Many questions, many judgemental thoughts, many bleak conclusions. But none of them would pass his lips. "Your past is your business. Who am I to judge?"

A small smile touched the headmaster's lips but the weariness never left his face. "You know Severus, I have been thinking on that matter. What possessed me to give you those memories?"

A grimace touched the younger man's lips. "If you cannot understand your own mind what hope is there for us mere mortals?"

After another spell of silence Dumbledore, waved his hand and summoned a vial of memories from storage, this one stored in a decoratively gilded bottle. "Memories from myself. Part of the collection you gifted me upon our first encounter." Slowly he emptied the Pensieve, sending those memories away in a plain glass vial as he set about pouring out the crystal bottle with a gentle tap.

Memories sprung forth upon the surface, memories Snape knew like the wounds carved upon his very soul. His own haunted face stared up at him, howling in fury and misery. In his mind he heard the words as if spoken aloud by that silent memory.

"I though… you were going… to keep her… safe…"

Snape flinched. "What is this?" He snarled.

"As I said, my memories." The weariness disappeared from Dumbledore's face, replaced by an almost calm. "Memories I had given to myself in regards to you. Memories I imagine, that were designed to make me trust you."

"Well did it work?" Snape hissed, his every fibre of being rebelling of the sight of facing his own raw grief. "Do you trust me?"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "Well, ask yourself. Do you trust me?"

Snape frowned. Albus Dumbledore was his one and only ally in this life. If he could not trust the great wizard, then who else did he have? But even as he thought that, his memories rebelled, reminding him of how his trust was most cruelly exploited once before. Memories of a vow to protect a boy left behind by his own foolish actions, a vow that was cruelly twisted into a blade against the enemy. A vow left broken, for the greater good.

Had the purpose of those memories been to convince Snape empathetically that this was a man he could place his trust in once again, then it had failed. But it had not been trust that drove the twice-burned spy back to Dumbledore's side. It had been duty. Not to the headmaster, but to his vow.

"Understand, this is my conundrum." The headmaster continued once his young counterpart did not reply. "It had not been me that had witnessed your reform. It had not been me that consoled you as you lamented your mis-decisions. It had not been me that trusted your convictions as you walked the darkened path at my request. No. It had been a man that I would become, or might become depending on my decisions now. Foresight is both a blessing and a curse."

The old man's piercing blue eyes fixed upon Snape's. The haze of Occlumency swept across his dark eyes but he felt no probing push of Legilimency. "It is the unfortunate truth Severus, that though I do not doubt those memories are from myself, I doubt the intent on which I had gifted them to us. After all surely I would have realised I had given you no reason to trust me, and knowing me, no reason to trust my own judgement."

The memory played across Snape's mind. The one of a young boy, staring with adoring blue eyes up at one of the darkest wizards of history.

"This is why I believe I had given us both those memories as security." A grimness settled upon those same blue eyes, no longer touched with such foolish notions. "So that neither one of us could betray the other without facing the possibility of dire consequences wrought."

A chill pierced Snape's heart. "Why would you… Have I not been loyal? Have I not obeyed your every command? Even sacrificed the boy on your orders! Against my very vow!"

The headmaster tipped his head in a weary relent. "And yet. Those decisions you made upon your turn had been done so without ever facing the object of your regret."

Snape froze, his heart burning cold with fear and anger. "Don't you dare put her to harm."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it." Dumbledore replied lightly then lapsed into silence. Snape glowered threateningly at the headmaster, shaken by the implications of his words, not at all finding himself able to settle his disquiet despite the assurances he had been given.

Unexpectedly, the headmaster broke his own silence with a question. "Do you still love her?"

Of all the idiotic questions Snape had been asked in either of his lifetimes, that one would rank highly. "I've never stopped."

If Dumbledore sensed the bristle in the younger man's voice, he gave no indication. "If I may, what are you doing to deal with that fact? As I understand it you and Miss Evans are not on… shall we say, conversational terms."

Snape almost choked with indignation. "I do not need you to pry!"

"I apologise if I overstep my bounds, but I feel your relationship with her may be of vital importance to your life. It has certainly been so to your last. I need to know how she would affect your conduct and your conviction."

With a dark scowl the younger man replied. "You need not fear. I am keeping to her wishes and staying away from her. I will not be embroiling myself in any foolish attempts to right what has passed. They are mistakes I cannot take back. You need not doubt my utility."

"It is not your utility I doubt." The old man shook his head. "I fear your conviction if such a choice comes to pass between her and our victory."

"There will be no such choice!" Snape hissed, maddened by the mere suggestion. "You will keep her safe! That is the condition of my loyalty! I will accept nothing less!"

The headmaster stared at him once more with those piercing blue eyes. Judging. Snape scowled back defiantly, refusing to bow to this.

In an almost unsettlingly even tone, Dumbledore spoke. "I had loved once. It was someone I knew who would never love me back." He shook his head. "My love lead me foolishly close to the darkness."

"You almost became Dumbledore, the Dark Lord of the Greater Good." Snape sneered, not feeling at all charitable with his empathy.

"I prefer the Sparkling Lord of the Greater Good." The headmaster quipped lightly, not at all rising to the remark.

Snape grimaced, dangerously close to being amused. "Do you have to be such a stereotype?"

The headmaster smiled, unable to contain his amusement as well. "I think the point I was making was, your love for Lily lead you in the exact opposite direction. It pulled you from the darkness when you had been all but lost." Snape bowed his head, solemn in his agreement. "However I ask you, should you find a way to bridge the divide between you, where would you lead her?" Snape looked up at him sharply, brows pinching together. "Do you believe yourself truly free of darkness?"

"That too will not happen." Snape muttered with a resigned shake of the head. "Our friendship is dust. Severed by my ill-thought words. It would never see reformation."

A strange look touched Dumbledore's smile. "Perhaps you should think upon the consequences of your current actions beyond the intended results."

Snape bristled protectively. They were back on the topic he did not wish to re-tread. The matters with his Slytherin was of his own. "Slytherin needs this." He growled. "I cannot see how my affairs with my Housemates concern you. Unless… You have rescinded your decision to exclude me as a spy." His heart clutched at the fear invoked by such a thought.

"Why not at all, Severus. Please by all means carry on with what you intend to do." The headmaster smiled a kindly smile. "There are children that need your help. The war can wait."

December came marching through the halls of Hogwarts. Along with the month came the frigid howling winds that would bring with it heavy snowfall. The weather, however, had been in fluctuation since the closing days of autumn. As such, the transition into the actual winter months came to Lily by such surprise. It had not been until McGonagall came around in Transfigurations with a list for the student Christmas Break stay-overs had Lily been reminded of her duties this season.

On the way to hand in her homework, she threw a glance at the sheet, noting with some warm reminiscence that it was always the first years that had their names on it the moment the list came out. The castle was a new and wonderful place back then, she remembered not wanting to miss a second of it. And back then she had a person to share the wonder with too. Their first Christmas may have been the last time she had seen him truly happy, tucked away from the judging eyes of those that would revolt at the idea of a Gryffindor and Slytherin consorting. But that had been back when times were simple, when the differences between their paths did not seem insurmountable. Back before the cruel realities of the world torn them asunder.

That memory had always intruded on this time of the year, the tinge of sadness that accompanied it turning bitter in her heart. First year was the only Christmas she had spent at Hogwarts, leaving Severus to endure the Break in solitude. She had to shake off that guilt that accompanied her every winter thereafter. With her eyes cast down to the textbook upon her desk, Lily commanded herself to not look up towards him. That guilt should have no place in her heart ever again.

As class end ticked around, Lily shoved her books into her bag, ready to rush off to find her monthly prefectural duties sheet. Her eagerness to jump straight in was stoked by her desperation to escape the gloomy thoughts this season always brought. Her escape however was not quick enough.

"Ms Evans. A word if you please."

Beckoned over by McGonagall, Lily leapt to comply. She approached the stern professor's desk and awaited her attention quietly. "I ask now of your plans for the holidays. Am I correct in assuming you will be joining your family again this year?"

"Yes ma'am." Lily answered. She had planned to return home as she had every break since second year, a pattern that even the professor had seemed to notice.

"Then I believe keeping order on the Hogwarts Express may come down to you, Ms Evans." McGonagall told her with an almost undetectable sigh. "Professor Flitwick had informed me of Ms Tills' decision to sign on to stay for the break. Though it is part of the Head Girls' duty to keep order on the train, am I correct in feeling the responsibility might be completely within your scope of handling?"

"Yes ma'am." Lily answered without hesitation, adding once again to her list of responsibilities without any closure in sight.

"Very well then." McGonagall regarded her with an approving nod. "I shall inform Professor Flitwick immediately that Ms Tills can relax over the break. She need not Apparate from London and back, and believe me, she will appreciate the rest this affords her."

"Oh I know she will." The Gryffindor prefect said earnestly. "I can barely keep on top of my responsibilities. I can't imagine what it'd be like to be Head Girl on top of a seventh year workload."

"Oh please do imagine, Ms Evans." McGonagall suggested with a knowing smile. "Because I should think you'd be a top candidate for that position next year."

Lily went rigid. "Yes Ma'am!" She squeaked. With a brisk nod, McGonagall dismissed her and she left with her delight and apprehension mixed with sobering caution divided in equal parts. She did not wish for it all to spill out before the stern but approving teacher. Nothing could spoil her mood after receiving her hard earned accolades. Nothing!

And almost as soon as she thought those thoughts, she knew the universe would punish her for her hubris.

A loud cry rang out as a scuffle broke out between a small Gryffindor and an equally small Slytherin.

"T'was a bump of the shoulder! That's all!" Shouted the Gryffindor, backing away from the sudden cluster of Slytherins that approached him menacingly. Immediately, Lily knew this was not to have a peaceful resolution, as the sixth years were passing through this hallway. And with them, the Marauders.

"Ohhoh? We going are we?" James stepped up beside the young Gryffindor, wand held out menacingly, a vicious smile upon his face. He walked with a swagger in his step, the swagger that became all the more prominent owing to his recent Quidditch victory against the Slytherins. In that instant, his friends materialised by his side, the four Marauders stood head and shoulders taller than any of the other students involved. Lily's heart dropped. When those four got involved, things tend to not de-escalate.

The Slytherins wisely began backing away. Even in a larger group they did not wish to provoke older students, especially not the likes of the Marauders. James, however, was not letting them retire with grace.

With a casual flick of his wand and the incantation of Locomotor Mortis, he tripped the young trouble starting Slytherin with a leg-locker curse, causing him to flop ungracefully upon his rear. "Now, now. We haven't settled matters yet."

The bound boy's peers appeared hesitant, wands held still aloft. They didn't stand a chance against the Marauders, but it appeared for the sake of one of their own they might just be willing to try.

Lily was almost thankful when they did not have to.

The floored boy's legs sprang open and he scrambled quickly to his feet, out of the way of a glowering Snape that strode into the clash. A sliver of fear touched Lily's heart as she witnessed with what ease the furious boy had dispelled the curse. That same unease was reflected off the Marauders, who did not back down despite being faced with a suddenly changed scenario. The sixth year Slytherins that now accompanied Snape wherever he went approached, wands drawn. Favour was no longer on Gryffindor's side.

Lily prepared to step in, dreading this with the knowledge that she really couldn't do anything to stop it getting big, complex and messy.

However, just as suddenly, the scenario changed again. Snape who looked ready to kick it off held out a hand in a placating gesture to his advancing accomplices. With a firm hand, he guided the young Slytherin by his shoulder, away from the hostilities around them. The boy followed silently and willingly as the older boy directed him back into his throng of housemates.

It occurred to Lily suddenly that the number of green uniforms within the corridor had increased. It was as if every Slytherin from every year group had dropped what they were doing to approach, all watching Snape as if awaiting some sort of signal.

A signal that never came.

Without a backwards glance the skinny boy swept down the corridor, his year-mates in tow. It was as if a spell had broken, the greens melted away, leaving confusion and fear upon the faces of all who witnessed.

Lily saw that look in James' eye. A dark look that spoke of his vicious streak. Her heart dropped. Whatever he had planned might have just escalated in scope. In her mind came scenarios, each more horrible than the next, yet all very much in line with what she knew the Marauders were capable of.

That little voice of conscience screamed at her to stop them, but then that firm conviction of hers spoke, reminding her what a threat a united Slytherin presented.

It would all be for the greater good…

A strange state had befallen Snape, not that of peace, but something akin to order. Almost a week had passed since his cowing of those blasted Marauders, almost a week of caution and tense corridor walks. He had been sure they would not let go of such a challenge, a fight was within the realm of certainties. A fight that would have Snape come out with the moral high ground, for he would not act first while impressionable eyes were upon him.

The Slytherins that he had imposed his new order upon took to it with an almost suspicious lack of resistance. He remembered even as a professor he had to whittle away at a few of the more reluctant hardliners. But not this time, something had changed.

As he passed members of his House, they would greet him as they would when he had been their Head of House, a familiar scenario, yet jarring in this new context. For he had never commanded any form of respect as a student.

It was perhaps this success that lulled him into abstraction. That dulled his alertness when he was on the most dangerous leg of his journey through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

The path from the Alchemy classroom.

It was noon on a Thursday, Alchemy had passed with mixed results. Snape was still unable to utilise both hands for transmutation, a detrimental flaw for an alchemist, but something that Flamel still insisted did not yet paint him as too forgone to be taught.

It was with a head full of his alchemical conundrum he descended the Grand Staircase, lulled by the false sense of security offered by the crowds that swarmed the path. Any tension he might have had upon the seventh floor lessened at the sight of the first flash of green.

As he reached the flight of stairs binding together the third and fourth floors, the ancient staircase creaked beneath him, informing him of the sentient structure's intention to move. He paused his step, bracing for the jolt that came with the shift.

That should have been a moment no danger could reach him, with the only path behind him diverted away and a clear path before him, there should have been nothing to fear.

He felt it before he heard it, that tingle that rose the hairs on the back of his neck. The feeling that upon the otherwise unremarkable magical staircase, he was not alone.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Came the muttered incantation, spell fire flung seemingly from thin air. Snape jumped back in alarm and felt his entire body lock in a body-bind curse. Losing his balance, Snape came crashing down the rest of the way, rolling to a stop on the third floor landing.

Laughter and gasps rang out about him. Staring upwards helplessly, Snape struggled against the spell, panic rising. Finite Incantatum! He screamed over and over again in his mind, willing his wild grasp on wandless magic to obey. Of spells within his wandless scope, counter spells was the only ones he developed a comfortable grasp of in his lifetime. To do so wordlessly too, however, was beyond his abilities.

His stomach clenched as footsteps approached. He bared his clenched teeth, unable to unstick his jaw.

"Well, well. Lookie what we got here. You comfortable there Snivillus?" Came that infuriating voice from above his head. With a casual saunter, James Potter stepped out above him, sinister overtones touching his smile. "Good shot, mate."

Seeming to appear from nowhere, Black was suddenly looming above him too, on his arm draped that blasted cloak of Invisibility. Snape cursed his own inattention. He should have remembered that dratted piece of calamitous artefact. He should have heeded his own instincts! He had not been alone when that stair shifted, when he paused to brace. He had not been alone the entire trek down.

It had been an ambush, and one that he had walked all too foolishly into. It was not the first time he had been made a fool of by a school child allied with the element of surprise.

He felt his locked head turn as the rubber welt of a shoe nudge not-so-gently against his cheekbone. "God he's ugly from any angle isn't he?" Black's sneering voice mocked down at him, eliciting a shrill chuckle that could only have belonged to Pettigrew. The entire set of Marauders must be in on this attack. That werewolf would no doubt be off somewhere hiding his face, pretending his prefectural duties required him off re-mediating elsewhere.

Black's boot retreated and Snape's head was allowed to lull back to rest. Above him he saw that arrogant Potter, turn to address the no doubt gathering crowd. "You see this Snakes? You admire this pathetic excuse for a human being?"

Eyes wide Snape's heart raced, the slow sickening realisation dawning of what the Marauders were planning within their twisted minds. The memory of that incident by the lake blared forth warningly. The humiliation of the day destroyed his entire life, scarred him to his very core.

Black stared down at him, his handsome face contorted in a vicious wolf-like smile, anticipation tensed upon his shoulders. His wand casually twirled between his fingers, ready to cast when given the word. Snape struggled wordlessly against those bonds, realising the futility of his predicament. With great effort he calmed his turbulent mind, that screaming fear that roiled against what was coming. He only had one chance if he means to save himself from humiliation, to save what he had built for his Slytherins.

With a hateful glare Snape cast his black eyes upwards, challenging the vicious boy to meet his eyes directly. Unable to resist, those mocking grey ones slipped down and locked onto his. With a great push Snape channelled every forceful scrap of magic into that antagonising boy's mind. Those grey eyes widened with surprise as Snape's Legilimency stabbed painfully into Black's thoughts, unravelling the boy's grasp of magic and physically stumbling him with confusion.

Snape felt the curse weaken as he forced his jaws apart. "Finite Incantatum!" He roared, shattering the spell that netted about him.

With a swift push, Snape rolled onto his knees, scrambling upright, wand in hand. Before he could find his feet however, a black shoe of fine leather drove hard into his gut, the pain driving him to his knees. He curled down, gasping through his winding and pain. A firm tug took his wand from his weakened grasp.

"Sorry James." Black's sheepish mutter sounded overhead. "Almost lost the slippery shit." Another swift kick came to his side, Snape gritted his teeth, forcing down the yelp of pain, willing his gasping breath to settle.

"His skinny weak arse wasn't going to get away from my Quidditch reflexes. No harm done, my dear Sirius." Came that smarmy arrogant voice.

Snape stilled his wheeze, willing himself to uncurl and pull himself upright on his knees. Both Black and Potter diverted their gaze wisely, they were not such fools as to fall for the same trick twice. A wand rested gently against his throat, Black's wand. Snape glared hatefully upwards, taking in that sneering Black and that casually vicious Potter. With a flick of his messy hair, that brute of a Quidditch Captain drew out his wand, in boy's other hand was grasped Snape's own.

Potter and Black were both fit and physically capable young men, conditioned by their love of sports and roughhousing. Though unbound, Snape did not move, he would stand no chance in a fight without his wand.

He felt a drop of sweat roll its way down the back of his neck. At the mercy of the Marauders yet again. Alone. Yet again.

"Expelliarmus!" Came an unexpected cry. Black's wand flung out of his grasp and clattered across the floor. A young Slytherin boy darted forth, snatching it up, staring defiantly at the hulking Gryffindor that towered above him.

Potter turned minutely, surprised by this manifestation of un-Slytherin behaviour. His moment's distraction was the best Snape could hope for.

He lunged at the larger boy, shoving him backwards into that gormless Pettigrew, stumbling the larger boy over his smaller friend. In that moment of imbalance, Snape prised his wand from Potter's grasp and with a triumphant snarl, he sent both boys flying with a flick of his wrist. Surprise felled greater wizards than himself, and so too would surprise bring low stronger men than Potter.

With a roar, Black lunged at him, wand back in hand. Without even turning to look, Snape flicked a stunner over his shoulder and beast of a boy fell over with a thundering thump.

Potter scrambled quickly to his feet, his own wand still within his grasp. Before he could level it with his opponent, it sailed from his hand, leaving him unarmed against the advancing smaller Slytherin.

"What a delightful turn of the tables." Snape sneered, his wand tip not wavering from the centre of his enemy's chest. Cries of alarm sounded from the crowds surrounding, the very same crowds that had jeered at Snape's misfortune. The throngs of young Slytherins watched on with wide eager eyes, some bracing the brave boy upright, the boy that took a beating to give Snape his chance.

Their eager impressionable eyes watching what he would do.

Pettigrew had found his feet, but started with wide eyed fear when his mind caught up with the situation. Snape's eyes narrowed as Potter backed away slowly, shielding his battered and whimpering friend. Unarmed.

Snape's hand itched upon the handle of his ebony wood wand, his mind seducing him with the thoughts of the damage he could wreck upon his most hated enemy. Pay back for those years of vicious assaults, of cruel humiliation. That boy would crumple like nothing in the face of Snape's wealth of power and experience.

But those watching eyes stopped him. Those young impressionable eyes, those Slytherins he was trying break of their darkness. His eyes flickering out to them, meeting those eager stares, meeting fearful stares. Meeting those green eyes, staring from on high. Eyes that he would never wish to see hatred within.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Snape lowered his wand. His thundering heart settled beneath his bruised and battered ribs. "Get out of my sight." He spat.

Potter's hazel eyes widened as he watched, not at all believing the smaller boy's intent of mercy. "What are you playing at?" He snarled, swatting at the olive branch extended.

Snape glared hatefully. "Being the better man."

"Ha! What?" The tall boy's derisive laughter never reached his eyes. "You? The better man? If you really believe that then you must be more deluded than I thought." His white teeth bared in a snarl, a hateful fury glaring from behind the thick panes of his glasses. "Nobody would ever think big of you, Death Eater scum! You and your evil snakes don't fool anyone!"

Snape's jagged breathing ceased, his eyelids shuttered. His heart thudded loudly in his breast, muscle tensed. In his mind's eye he saw those wide impressionable eyes, those staring judgemental ones. So many gathered in this spot, their attentions captured. It was this moment his voice would reach furthest it would ever be possible to reach. To finally shake off this pretence.

As a child it always took him courage to speak his heart aloud, but as an adult he had courage enough for this.

"I will not be a Death Eater!"

Gasps elicited from those around him before being swallowed by the sudden silence. The Stairwell fell deathly quiet. Sceptical disbelief shone from Potter's eyes, but he did not speak, he simply stared. Waiting.

Snape took deep breath, feeling an almost calm settle upon him. "I tell all who stand here today! I , under no uncertain terms, will not become a Death Eater! That is not the fated path of the House of Slytherin!" He paused, turning his eyes from the disbelieving Potter and sweeping across the silent Slytherin youths who stood beside him, meeting the eyes of the one who assisted him when he needed help the most. "And if there is any Slytherin still willing to follow me, know that our road will not take that direction."

He turned away, his back to his shocked opponent, fearing no assaults. Not at this moment. His eyes swept up and met then the wide greys of Rosier, standing frozen upon the lower staircase. With him were Avery and Mulciber, an assortment of shaken Death Eaters to be, staring at him with indiscernible eyes.

Snape met their eyes briefly, without hesitation, without guilt. If it was betrayal they felt, they would not get any condolences from him. He strode past them, not interested in exchanging words at this moment.

The crowds parted before him, a silent confusion radiating from Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike. The Gryffindors stared in disbelief, but no words of contrary parted from any of their lips. The Slytherins however, just stared.

A/N: Woohoo! Finally the deception is up! I wonder how this would change Snape's relationship dynamics? One might say the real story starts now :D

A thank you to my first Beta reader Caleo Ignacium for your work on this chapter.

Edit: Thank you to the unknown reviewer who picked up my mistake. No matter the care I take I still cannot stop errors from occurring, so kudos to the eagle eyed reader.

Next Update: Friday 30th June 2017 AEDT.

Chapter 11: The Path Once Closed

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not seek to profit in any way, shape or form from this fan work.