The sparse light from the candle chandeliers cast the great hall of Malfoy Manor in shades of grey. The room was cold, making the Death Eaters shiver despite their heavy cloaks. On the dark marble floor, Nagini slithered in an out between their feet, making thick coils and sinuous curves with her scaly body. Severus did his best to keep her in his field of vision, but it was difficult to concentrate.
The punishment meant for Lucius had fallen on his son, and Severus stood by impassively as his student suffered under the cruciatus curse for the first time in his still short life. All he could do as he worked to conceal his revulsion in the place of honour beside the Dark Lord's right hand was to hope that the lad would not have to experience this ever again.
But the pain he felt for Draco was numbed by that which festered in his veins after his deed of earlier that night. Dumbledore was dead and he had cast the curse.
Had he done the right thing? He did not know. Could there have been another way? He would never learn. All he knew was that he had made himself a killer yet again. Surely, Potter would not understand. Would he even want to understand?
The loss of his mentor was a hollow ache inside his chest. The last time he felt this lonely, he had been kneeling atop a windy hill, absorbing the Headmaster's disgust of him and making it his own. They had not prepared for this. Did they have any hope at all of overthrowing the Dark Lord alone?
The cold never seemed to bother him. The snake-like man looked down on Draco, who laid crumpled on the ground.
"No more," said the Dark Lord forcefully, toing the boy so that he rolled over, facing up. "No more shall one of my own defy me. Let this be a warning to all of you."
He pointed a pale finger at the assembled circle, ignoring Draco's pitiful moans. "The next one of you to be caught acting against my order or will, be it intentionally or not, is going to suffer a death so torturous, you will regret the very day you were born. I will tear you to pieces so thoroughly that not even your mothers will recognise your maimed souls in the afterlife. I will rip you apart." He twirled his wand in his long fingers, looking at them each in turn. "Let there be no mistake, I am very much able to."
"But…" His voice softened as he made a wide gesture with his arms. "This is also a time for celebration."
Severus supressed a wince when the Dark Lord turned around to put long-nailed fingers on his shoulder in a mockery of what used to be Dumbledore's gesture of comfort. The hand felt cold even through his clothes, and his stomach rebelled against the approval in the pale blue eyes.
"Severus," the Dark Lord said. "You have done well. I am of a mind to reward you."
Severus remained in place as the Lord passed behind his back with silent, barefoot treads. He allowed the unpredictable man to slip out of his field of view, and turned his head only slightly towards the other side to catch the movement with his peripheral vision.
"Is there something you desire?"
He occluded his deepest wishes before they could form into coherent thoughts. Surely, the Dark Lord expected him to claim the role of Headmaster, but doing so would make it a grim task to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. The students were on their own. He could not protect them. Not when he was bound to Potter, and to his promise.
"I wish to quit," he said, allowing some of the motivations he had held in his younger days to seep through his armour. "I am well and done with Hogwarts, my Lord."
The Dark Lord chuckled quietly. "Yes… your ambitions always were scholarly rather than administrative." He stroked his chin. "So, you want to dedicate your time to potions, is that right?"
Severus bowed. "If it pleases you."
The Dark Lord's kindness was sometimes worse than his anger. And it was in times like these, when a glimmer shone through of the man who had taken him under his wing despite his half-blood status, that Severus' spying duties were at their most difficult.
Hiding feelings born out of fear was easy. It was something he had done his entire life, making him grasp the concepts of mind protection remarkably quickly, and without much tutoring. But when the Dark Lord smiled and granted his request by ordering him to produce a long list of heinous brews, it was the feelings of queasy relief and morbid gratitude that were the most difficult to occlude.
Later, he would remember little from the following days, when he delivered a traumatised Draco to Narcissa, and took up residence in his childhood home in Spinner's End.
On his own, and haunted by memories of Dumbledore, he spent long days and longer nights in the sole company of his whiskey. When he slept, he had nightmares. When he didn't, he dreamt of the ocean. Of the southerly breeze, and of the gulls, and of a boat with white sails…
But what finally made him shake off his misery was the continuing absence of Potter.
When Draco, Bella, Fenrir and he had run from Hogwarts, he had counted himself lucky for not running into the boy. He knew that he had a lot of clearing up to do. It was unlikely that Dumbledore would have had the time to forewarn Potter, and now, after a week had gone by without sight or sound from him, Severus was getting worried.
He had waited too long. He urgently needed to locate the boy. To explain himself. But as the days went by without a single word or owl, his fear increased that Potter might not want the same thing.
When the summer holidays had started, he put a heavy coat on to brace against the downpour of rain, and went out of his house. It was a great risk, but he knew no safer way to get in touch. He walked to the old, overgrown park by the river with an uncomfortable sense of trepidation. Then, he apparated to Surrey.
In Severus' hometown, you would find broken windowpanes and peeling paint on the houses, and even though the factory had closed down decades ago, there was still the unmistakeable layer of dust and smog on every surface; impossible to get rid of, even in the face of an above-average strength scourgify. The river poured muddy water over the carved banks, still littered with many years' worth of rubbish.
Privet Drive was completely different from that. The score or so of detached brick houses were all remarkably similar. Neat and tidy, with sharply cut, low hedges in front of them, and freshly-mowed lawns behind those. In every driveway stood an expensive, clean automobile.
He walked up the front steps of number four and rang the bell of the Dursley residence. The beefy, moustached brute who answered the door cast him one glance and promptly slammed the door in his face.
Severus grunted and rang again. When the door opened several persistent attempts later, it was Petunia.
Adulthood and her general thinness had worked to pronounce her horsey look, but he could still see the Evans traits in her. They were present in the high cheekbones she had inherited from her mother, along with the gentle waves in her hair, and in the fine-boned, dexterous hands of Mr. Evans. But her eyes, though the colour was slightly off, were of the exact same shape as those of Mrs. Evans. Severus swallowed against a lump in his throat.
Lily had also had those eyes.
"Severus Snape…" She squinted slightly, nose crinkling. "Is that you?"
He hadn't heard that voice in so long, it seemed like it belonged to another life. Lily's big sister looked over her shoulder towards the living room, where he could hear faint noises from the telly. Then she turned a watchful eye out onto the street, and grasped hold of his sleeve.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed. "The sheer nerve of you people… I'm not inviting you for tea!"
Severus allowed himself to be pulled inside the hall, out of the neighbour's view. "I don't want any," he said, frowning as he looked around the neatly cleaned room. A picture of a big-boned boy hung on the wall, obviously taken by a professional photographer. There were other photographs as well, but none of them of Potter.
"I'm only here for the boy," he told her, watching with bewilderment as her expression turned into one of wide-eyed fear. She gasped.
"What do you want with my Dudley?" she cried. "He's done nothing to you!"
Severus blinked. "Not your boy, you shrew," he growled. "Lily's."
Petunia's mouth thinned. "Well," she said, straightening. "Then I suggest you leave at once. Because he certainly isn't here."
She stilled for a moment, studying him with a critical eye.
"It's been a while," she said. "You weren't at Dad's funeral... I know why you weren't at the wedding." She smiled maliciously. "But that's not why…" She looked up at his face. "Lily mentioned you turned evil or something?"
A tight knot twisted behind Severus' sternum and he felt his expression turn sour. "Where is he then?" he bit out. "The boy? He lives here, doesn't he?"
Petunia shrugged nonchalantly. "He usually comes here around this time. Never showed up this year though."
"And you never thought to look for him?" He jerked his hand out towards her in a gesture of slight incredulity.
"Why should we?" She snorted through her nose. "He's with your lot, obviously. Always left after a few weeks anyway. You should know. You're the ones who take him away, after all."
Severus shook his head, dripping rainwater on the unblemished carpet. Petunia's nostrils flared.
"I take it you two didn't get along," said Severus. "I got the impression from the boy that he isn't too happy here."
"Accusing me now, are you?" There was a flash of anger in Petunia's eyes. "Well, then you don't know what he's like," she said. "The way he sasses us. The constant insolence. The… freakishness-"
"He can't help being magical," interrupted Severus, feeling for some unfathomable reason a need to stand up for Potter. "It isn't fair that you punish him for something that isn't his fault."
"Fair?" Petunia hissed. "Don't you come here lecturing me about what's fair." She leaned back, somehow managing to look down on him. "Nothing's ever fair," she continued. "All that matters is taking care of one's own. And that… freak should not have been my responsibility."
He had never understood her when they were children, but there was a pain in Petunia's pale green eyes that Severus-the-adult recognised all too well. He had seen it before, in his own father. But he himself was also intimately familiar with that venomous emotion. Suddenly, he found that he couldn't summon up the anger to contradict her.
"He's just like all of you. Thinks he's better than the rest of us, when really…" Petunia trailed off, but her breath had gone ragged.
"I'd better go," Severus murmured. The conversation made him feel ill at ease, and now he just wanted to get away from it, tactfulness be damned. "I'm going to apparate from here, it'll be quicker."
"The sooner the better." Petunia hugged her elbows and stepped back. "And there's no reason for us to ever see each other again, so goodbye."
"No," he said, taking her in for a final time. "I suppose we won't. Goodbye, Petunia."
He disapparated with a crack, landing close to the playground at the place where he had first met the Evans sisters.
Regretting his rash decision to visit Surrey, he made his way home. Things seemed to be spiralling out of control, and Potter –the foolish boy- was now without the blood protection that his relatives provided him. It was unfortunate, and Severus felt urgently the need to strengthen his own protection of him.
But Potter was probably with the Weasleys now, and going there after him was out of the question. After killing Dumbledore, they were bound to regard him as a traitor, and the small chance he had of explaining himself would diminish greatly in the commotion that would ensue if he were to show up at the Burrow uninvited. What was left of his tattered pride would surely not survive.
If the boy chose, he could easily have summoned him, Severus rationalised. All it took was for the desire to form, and it would compel him to apparate to Potter's side. But as it had not happened yet, chances were that the boy was unaware of this possibility. Either that, or he was so upset he didn't want to…
Severus would just have to wait it out. But with his release from teaching came the opportunity to make some preparations, and his first duty would be to perfect the antidote to Nagini's poison.
…
It wasn't until a few days before Harry's seventeenth birthday, that they finally got some time to sit down and talk. More than a month had gone by since they left school, and the poor Mrs. Weasley, sensing that something big was going on, had showered the three friends with countless chores and small tasks to keep them occupied and away from trouble. There had been very few opportunities to make a plan, and Harry's anxiety grew with every day that passed by in idleness.
He had much to worry about, and his nights had been restless, fraught with dreams about Horcruxes, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Snape.
Rage coiled in his stomach as he thought about what had transpired. He was angry with Voldemort, and he was furious with Snape, but most of all, he was angry with himself.
They had all warned him. Even Hermione had suggested he order Snape not to betray them. But stupid as he was he had not listened, and had instead fallen into the Slytherin's trap and had been lulled into believing that Snape had been good all along. For a time, he had started to trust Snape, enjoy his company even, and it made the betrayal so much worse.
Well, he knew better now. And he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
"Have you found out anything more about this R.A.B., Hermione?" Ron asked as they settled by the well-used table in the Burrow's warm, cluttered kitchen. Everyone else were outside, doing last-minute gardening in preparation for the wedding.
"No," replied Hermione. "But I thought we might ask Remus about it. They'll be here for the wedding, him and Tonks. What do you think, Harry?"
"I can't stand waiting like this anymore," said Harry darkly. "I think it's about time we go and find Snape."
"But he's a traitor," said Ron. "He'll just curse us and bring us all to Voldemort."
Harry shook his head. "Not if we manage to corner him when he's alone. He won't be able to take out all three of us. And we have to stop him as soon as possible. He has probably tattled to Voldemort about the Horcruxes already. Who knows what more harm he could cause if we let him run free."
"You're right, Harry," Hermione said. "And we might be able to find out something useful from him. It shouldn't be too difficult to find his house. It's on a street called Spinner's End. That's in Cokeworth."
Ron's eyes widened. "How do you know?"
"I checked the phone book. When I was with my…." Hermione's voice shook slightly. No doubt, she was thinking about her obliviated parents.
Ron took her hand comfortingly. "It'll be alright, Hermione," he said. "What's a phone book?"
"It's a catalogue over people's addresses and telephone numbers, silly." She smiled as she blinked away a few tears.
"He's actually listed?" asked Harry.
"Apparently, he is." Hermione wiped at her eyes. "You told us he grew up muggle, remember? I figured he had to stick with some of the old habits."
Harry grinned. "You're brilliant, Hermione. I don't know what we'd do without you."
"I'm still unsure if it's a good idea," she said. "Trying to catch him, that is. If only there was a way to know for sure if the bond is still in effect."
"Seems obvious it isn't," Ron said. "Something definitely went wrong with that slavery spell. He would never have dared to kill Dumbledore if Harry had that kind of power over him."
"I don't know how he could do that at all," said Hermione quietly. "I don't understand it. I thought they were close somehow…"
"I guess that's what he wanted Dumbledore to believe," Harry said. "Snape has a special talent for lying and deceit. Just remember what he did to my parents."
"Yes." Hermione bit her lip. "And he did lie about that, didn't he? Or, at least he concealed it from you..."
"Which is just as bad," said Ron. "But if the bond isn't working, how are we supposed to corner him?"
"Can you feel him somehow, Harry," asked Hermione cautiously. "I mean the bond between you?"
"No, I…" Harry frowned, suddenly remembering the time when Snape had taught him to sense the wards at Hogwarts. "Actually…" He closed his eyes, recalling the feeling of Snape's magical energy. "Actually, I do kind of feel something…"
"Can you tell where he is?" Hermione shifted forward in her chair.
"No…" Harry thought for a moment before looking up at her. "But I know he's alive. Whatever went wrong with that bond, when I concentrate it feels as though it's still there…"
"That's creepy, mate." Ron seemed disturbed. "Do you suppose he can sense you as well?"
"I certainly hope not," answered Harry, casting his eyes nervously at the door. "But if he could, why hasn't he shown up to capture us?"
"I dunno." Ron scratched his head. "But if we're going after him we need a way to make sure he obeys you."
"If he's still enslaved," said Hermione, "Harry should only have to order him, and he'll be forced to listen."
"He sure as hell didn't before though," interjected Ron.
"Well, no," Hermione replied. "The book said that the slave masters would allow the bond to inflict pain if a slave was disobedient though…" She trailed off uncomfortably.
Ron looked at Harry. "How do you do that?"
"I've no idea," he said. "I guess we'll just have to make it up as we go. The worst part will be to catch him alone anyway. If we manage that, I'm sure we can overtake him somehow."
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I suppose three against one are poor odds, even for a teacher. Maybe we should try to surprise him in the night? If he still lives at that address, there's more of a chance he'll be at home."
"And alone," said Harry. "We can always go back here, if it's obvious that the slavery spell is broken."
"I don't think we should come here," said Ron. "What if he follows us?"
"You're right," Harry thought for a moment. "We could always escape to Grimmauld Place though. There's no one there now. The Order stopped using it."
"Are you sure that's safe?" said Hermione. "Snape knows about it."
"Well, we don't have a lot of other options, do we?" Harry rubbed his hands over his face. "Besides, we need somewhere to imprison him until we can give him to the Aurors."
They fell into an uneasy silence. Through the window, Harry could see Fred and George, who were amusing Ginny with something that looked like a gnome-tossing contest.
"So when do we go?" asked Hermione after some time.
"Tonight," said Harry. "We'll do it tonight. If we don't, we're not going to do it at all."
And so, when silence fell over the Burrow, they snuck down the creaky stairs and out into the garden. Everyone else were asleep, and the moon cast a pale, yellow light on the crooked house.
The boys took hold of Hermione's hands, and they disappeared with a crack into the silent night.
They appeared in a narrow alley, facing an immense, ominous chimney some distance away. The only sound was from the whispers of the reeds in the dark water of the river. The streetlamps were broken, casting the three friends in shadows. Silently, Hermione pointed to house on their left.
"He lives here?"
Ron seemed unsettled as they took in the dilapidated brick house. The curtains were shut, and the dark windows were gloomy and unseeing in the darkness.
"This is his registered address," said Hermione. "Hurry up. We shouldn't be seen."
"Be careful though, it might be a sham," whispered Harry.
"We won't know unless we check." Bravely, Hermione reached out for the corroded brass knocker. "Be ready to disapparate immediately," she whispered. "If something goes wrong, we'll meet at Headquarters."
Harry gripped his wand with the might of his pent-up anger and pain. Whomever came out of that house, he was ready to give them a piece of his mind.
At last, the door opened, revealing a familiar greasy-haired, hooked-nosed man.
Harry aimed his wand directly at Snape's heart.
"You…"
