ELEVEN

She hardly saw him on Tuesdays, and it was a lucky thing. She didn't quite know what to do with herself around him. Not after that.

He'd held onto her, and then he'd turned and left. "Fled" was probably the best word for it. Hermione had looked at the fire for a while, striving for composure, and then returned to Gryffindor Tower. Ron had been snogging Lavender in the common room, which had the side benefit of Lavender not being in the bathroom when Hermione went through her nightly ritual. Parvati was around, but seemed to be trying to scry for the future using a glass of water and moonlight.

She had trouble focusing, though. All through the following day, Tuesday's, lessons, she'd been distracted. She'd tried to turn her Ancient Runes homework in when she was in Arithmancy. Professor Vector had taken her aside after class to ask if she was alright and swap for the correct homework.

"I'm fine, Professor. Sorry. I don't know where my head is today!"

They'd laughed, and Hermione had hurried off to her next class. She'd known perfectly well where her head was, though. It was across the castle in the Defense classroom with her Defense professor.

Hermione couldn't have told anybody what was for dinner as she was eating it, nor could she have explained what she'd done in the library for the rest of the evening. She'd wanted to march up to Dumbledore's office and give him an earful about taking advantage of youthful bravery and idealism, but she knew better.

Near midnight, she threw her blankets off and yanked on her dressing gown. She hadn't been able to sleep, and since she couldn't sleep she might as well do something useful. On bare feet (which was a stupid idea, since the floors were cold stone), Hermione hurried through the corridors and slipped into the Room of Requirement. The castle wouldn't give her the lab, though. She went out and in three times, but each time it just gave her the room with the armchairs, the fireplace, the spindly table with the pitcher of water.

"Bloody stubborn castle," Hermione muttered, slamming the door behind her. All satisfaction was lost in the slam, however, because the door didn't make a sound. She scowled and took a seat in her usual chair, folding her legs up under her and staring into the fire. The pitcher of water transformed into a steaming pot of tea, almost like an apology.

She was on her third cup when he joined her. She wondered how long he'd been there. He stood just inside the door. Staring.

"What's the matter?" she asked, setting aside her tea and going to him. He looked awful. He was in shirtsleeves, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his hair pulled back into a knot at the top of his head. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept at all the night before.

"What's the matter?" he repeated, snorting, almost rolling his eyes. He tried to run a hand through his hair, but it snagged on the knot. Exasperated, he'd rolled up his sleeves instead.

He was fidgeting. It was a bad sign.

"Professor, what's the matter?" she asked, pouring him a cup of tea and holding it out. After a long moment standing there beside the door like he wasn't sure if he was going to stay or go, he sat down in his usual chair. She had to grab his hand and put the teacup into it, jarring him into focus. "Tell me what happened. Are you hurt? Professor Snape."

"Fuck," he said, looking down into his tea. "Don't call me that."

"I never called you a fuck," she said flippantly, retaking her seat with her legs folded up under her. She sipped her own tea, watching him over the top of her glass. He snorted at her quip, which was lucky because she'd half expected him to go back to staring around the room lost in his own thoughts.

"No. You're right," he said. "You called me a rude bloody bastard, and an arrogant bum-fucking high-handed big-headed tit-wanker."

"I did," she said, blushing. He smirked.

"Rude, yes. Bastard, technically no. Arrogant, sometimes. Bum-fucking, no. High-handed, usually. Big-headed, same as arrogant. Tit-wanker, also no."

She smiled at him, nervous. She didn't know what to make of his mood.

"You also called me 'professor,' and that is the most accurate of all. And I never want you to call me that again. Or 'sir.' I hate it when you call me 'sir.'"

He looked away from her, staring into the depth of the fire. Hermione froze. She had no idea what to say, what to do. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her bloody ribcage and her hands had gone cold despite the teacup between them.

They were quiet for a long time. The fire crackled. Her tea went cold.

He hadn't finished his tea, but he set it aside and sat forward. He put his head down, his elbows on his knees, his hands on the back of his head. He looked… defeated.

She acted on impulse. Before she could question it, she sat on the arm of his chair. She put the back of her hand against the back of his neck, and he let out a shuddering breath and went still. She stroked the back of his neck; there were fine hairs that hadn't made it into his bun. He let out a shuddering sigh at the contact.

"I've never done this," he said, speaking to his knees. He pressed his palms to his eyes. She didn't stop stroking her fingers along the back of his neck, gently, hoping the touch was soothing. "I promised myself I never would. One thing nobody could ask of me."

"Nobody could ask you to do what?"

"Touch a student in my care."

"You haven't touched me."

"But I want to." He looked up at her and her fingers went still against his neck. Her heart raced.

His eyes were brown, so dark she'd always assumed they were black. They were sort of beautiful.

"I'm going to."

Hermione kept her hand still on the back of his neck and leaned into him to kiss his forehead. She'd thought, for a moment, to kiss his lips, but he looked so… She didn't have a word for the look on his face.

The hand that wasn't on his neck rose and traced the lines of his face almost of its own volition. He had a good face. Eyebrows, cheekbones, nose, jaw. All strong, angular. She'd noticed at some point over the summer that she found him handsome, but she'd been doing a very good job of ignoring it.

He was absolutely still while her fingers traced across his cheeks, around the curve of an ear.

"I can wait as long as you need me to," she said, putting her forehead against his and closing her eyes. "It won't be so long before I'm not your student anymore, and then—"

His hand on her cheek stopped her. Her eyes flew open and she stared down at him, so very close.

"I want to show you something," he said. She blinked and began to pull away, but he held her close. "No, look in."

"Alright," she said, repositioning herself more stably on the arm of his chair and touching his cheek again. "Legilimens."

"Narcissa!" Severus said, opening the front door at Spinner's End so that the hall light illuminated Mrs. Malfoy and the hooded woman with her. Mrs. Malfoy was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness, her long blonde hair streaming around her like a drowning victim. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Severus," Mrs. Malfoy said in a strangled whisper. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."

"But of course."

Severus stood back to let her into the house and the other followed without invitation.

"Snape," the one in the hood said curtly.

"Bellatrix," he replied, and a chill went up Hermione's spine even from outside the memory. Severus just smiled at her, though, almost mocking. He closed the door with a snap behind the sisters.

The sitting room at Spinner's End was tiny. The walls were completely covered in books, most of them bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in the pool of dim light cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling.

Severus gestured Mrs. Malfoy to the sofa, and Bellatrix moved to stand behind her sister. They both took off their cloaks, and they were an interesting study of differences—one dark, one fair.

"So, what can I do for you?" Severus asked, settling in the armchair.

"We—we are alone, aren't we?" Mrs. Malfoy asked quietly.

"Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the books behind him and, with a bang, a hidden door flew open to reveal a narrow staircase upon which Peter Pettigrew stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests."

"Narcissa!" Wormtail said in a squeaky voice. He crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. Hermione had never seen him in proper light before, and it didn't do him any favors. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. "And Bellatrix! How charming—"

"Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," Severus said. "And then he will return to his bedroom."

Wormtail winced like Severus had thrown something at him. It made Hermione strangely pleased to see it. She wondered if he'd ever actually thrown anything at the rat; she had to resist the urge to trace the idea back for a different memory.

"I am not your servant!" Wormtail squeaked, avoiding Severus's eyes.

"Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me."

"To assist, yes—but not to make you drinks and—and clean your house!"

"I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments. This can be easily arranged I shall speak to the Dark Lord—"

"I can speak to him myself if I want to!"

"Of course you can." Severus sneered. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Wormtail hesitated, then brought the wine. Severus poured, and they toasted the Dark Lord.

"Severus," Mrs. Malfoy said, "I'm sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me—"

Severus held up his hand, then pointed his wand again at the concealed staircase door. There was a loud bang and a squeal followed by the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs.

"My apologies," he said. "He has lately taken to listening at doors. I don't know what he means by it… You were saying, Narcissa?"

"Severus," Mrs. Malfoy said after taking a great shuddering breath, "I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but—"

"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" snarled Bellatrix. "Particularly in present company!"

"'Present company?' And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?"

"That I don't trust you, Snape, as you very well know!"

Mrs. Malfoy made a sound that was almost a sob. Severus set down his glass and sat back, smiling at Belatrix's frown.

"Narcissa, I think we out to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix. Why is it that you do not trust me?"

"A hundred reasons!" she cried, striding out from behind the sofa to slam her glass on the table. "Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempts to find him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Sorcerer's Stone? Why did you not return at once when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why, Snape, is Harry Potter still alive when you have had him at your mercy for five years?"

The woman looked utterly unhinged, but Severus just smiled.

"Before I answer you—oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer. You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?"

Bellatrix hesitated.

"I know he believes you, but…"

"You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?"

Bellatrix finally looked properly uncomfortable. Severus picked up his drink again and sipped, leisurely.

"You ask where I was when the Dark Lord fell. I was where he had ordered me to be, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, because he wished me to spy upon Albus Dumbledore. You know, I presume, that it was on the Dark Lord's orders that I took up the post?"

Bellatrix nodded, then opened her mouth to say something but Severus continued first.

"You ask why I did not attempt to find him when he vanished. For the same reason that Avery, Yaxley, the Carrows, Greyback, Lucius, and many others did not attempt to find him. I believed him finished. I am not proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is… If he had not forgiven we who lost faith at that time, he would have very few followers left."

"He'd have me! I, who spent many years in Azkaban for him!"

"Yes, indeed, most admirable," he said, bored. "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine—"

"Gesture!" Bellatrix shrieked. "While I endured the dementors, you remained at Hogwarts, comfortably playing Dumbledore's pet!"

"Not quite. He wouldn't give me the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah, bring about a relapse… tempt me into my old ways."

"This was your sacrifice for the Dark Lord, not to teach your favorite subject? Why did you stay there all that time, Snape? Still spying on Dumbledore for a master you believed dead?"

"Hardly, although the Dark Lord is pleased that I never deserted my post: I had sixteen years of information on Dumbledore to give him when he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present than endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is…"

"But you stayed—"

"Yes, Bellatrix, I stayed," he snapped. "I had a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban. They were rounding up the Death Eaters, you know. Dumbledore's protection kept me out of jail; it was most convenient and I used it. I repeat: The Dark Lord does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see why you do.

"I think you next wanted to know," he said, louder since Bellatrix looked like she wanted to interrupt, "why I stood between the Dark Lord and the Sorcerer's Stone. That is easily answered. He did not know whether he could trust me. He thought, like you, that I had turned from faithful Death Eater to Dumbledore's stooge. He was in a pitiable condition, very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre wizard. He did not dare reveal himself to a former ally if that ally might turn him over to Dumbledore or the Ministry. I deeply regret that he did not trust me. He would have returned to power three years sooner. As it was, I saw only greedy and unworthy Quirrell attempting to steal the stone and, I admit, I did all I could to thwart him."

"But you didn't return when he came back, you didn't fly back to him at once when you felt the Dark Mark burn—"

"Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on Dumbledore's orders."

"On Dumbledore's—?"

"Think!" Severus snapped. "Think! By waiting two hours, just two hours, I ensured that I could remain at Hogwarts as a spy! By allowing Dumbledore to think that I was only returning to the Dark Lord's side because I was ordered to, I have been able to pass information on Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix ever since! Consider, Bellatrix: The Dark Mark had been growing stronger for months. I knew he must be about to return, all the Death Eaters knew! I had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do, to play my next move, to escape like Karkaroff, didn't I?

"The Dark Lord's initial displeasure at my lateness vanished entirely, I assure you, when I explained that I remained faithful, although Dumbledore thought I was his man. Yes, the Dark Lord thought that I had left him forever, but he was wrong."

"But what use have you been? What useful information have we had from you?"

"My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord. If he chooses not to share it with you—"

"He shares everything with me! He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful—"

"Does he? Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?"

"That was not my fault! The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious—if Lucius hadn't—"

"Don't you dare—don't you dare blame my husband!" Mrs. Malfoy interceded, her voice low and deadly.

"There is no point apportioning blame," Severus interrupted. "What is done, is done."

"But not by you!" Bellatrix cried, furious. "No, you were once again absent while the rest of us ran dangers, were you not, Snape?"

"My orders were to remain behind. Perhaps you disagree with the Dark Lord, perhaps you think that Dumbledore would not have noticed if I had joined forces with the Death Eaters to fight the Order of the Phoenix? And—forgive me—you speak of dangers… you were facing six teenagers, were you not?"

"They were joined, as you very well know, by half the Order before long," Bellatrix snarled. "And, while we are on the subject of the Order, you still claim you cannot reveal the whereabouts of their headquarters, don't you?"

"I am not the Secret-Keeper; I cannot speak the name of the place. You understand how the enchantment works, I think? The Dark Lord is satisfied with the information I have passed him on the Order. It led, as perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture and murder of Emmeline Vance, and it certainly helped dispose of Sirius Black, though I give you full credit for finishing him off."

He inclined his head to her, but her expression didn't soften.

"You are avoiding my last question, Snape. Harry Potter. you could have killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it. Why?"

"Have you discussed this matter with the Dark Lord?"

"He… lately, we… I am asking you, Snape!"

"If I had murdered Harry Potter, the Dark Lord could not have used his blood to regenerate, making him invincible—"

"You claim you foresaw his use of the boy!"

"I do not claim it; I had no idea of his plans; I have already confessed that I thought the Dark Lord dead. I am merely trying to explain why the Dark Lord is not sorry that Potter survived, at least until a year ago…"

"But why did you keep him alive?"

"Have you not understood me? It was only Dumbledore's protection that was keeping me out of Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering his favorite student might have turned him against me? But there was more to it than that. I should remind you that when Potter first arrived at Hogwarts there were still many stories circulating about him, rumors that he himself was a great Dark wizard, which was how he survived the Dark Lord's attack. Indeed, many of the Dark Lord's old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all inclined to murder him the moment he set foot in the castle.

"Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that he had no extraordinary talent at all. He has fought his way out of a number of tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented friends. He is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied as was his father before him. I have done my utmost to have him thrown out of Hogwarts, where I believe he scarcely belongs, but kill him, or allow him to be killed in front of me? I would have been a fool to risk it with Dumbledore close at hand."

"And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you? He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?"

"I have played my part well. And you overlook Dumbledore's greatest weakness: He has to believe the best of people. I spun him a tale of deepest remorse when I joined his staff, fresh from my Death Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms—though, as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than he could help. Dumbledore has been a great wizard—oh, yes he has." He pinned Bellatrix with a look when she made a scathing noise. "The Dark Lord acknowledges it. I am pleased to say, however, that Dumbledore is growing old. The duel with the Dark Lord last month shook him. He has since sustained a serious injury because his reactions are slower than they once were. But through all these years, he has never stopped trusting Severus Snape, and therein lies my greatest value to the Dark Lord." Bellatrix looked mutinous but remained silent. Severus turned to Mrs. Malfoy. "Now… you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?"

"Yes, Severus." Her look of despair could've won acting awards. "I—I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and…" She closed her eyes and two large tears seeped from beneath her eyelids. "The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it. He wishes none to know of the plan. It is.. very secret. But—"

"If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak," Severus said. "The Dark Lord's word is law."

"There!" Bellatrix said, triumphant. She looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house. "Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!"

Severus walked to the window and looked down on the deserted street. He turned back, frowning.

"It so happens that I know of the plan," he said in a low voice. "I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord."

"I thought you must know about it!" Mrs. Malfoy said, breathing more freely. "He trusts you so, Severus…"

"You know about the plan?" Bellatrix said, the look of satisfaction quickly replaced by outrage. "You know?"

"Certainly," Severus said. "But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all."

"Severus," she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. "My son… my only son…"

"Draco should be proud," Bellatrix said, indifferent. "The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: he isn't shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited for the prospect—"

Mrs. Malfoy began crying in earnest, her eyes on Severus.

"That's because he is sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why, Severus? Why my son? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance for Lucius's mistake, I know it!"

Severus looked out the window again. He looked, in a word, uncomfortable.

"That's why he's chosen Draco, isn't it?" Mrs. Malfoy pressed. "To punish Lucius?"

"If Draco succeeds," Severus said, still looking away, "he will be honored above all others."

"But he won't succeed! How can he, when the Dark Lord, himself—?"

Bellatrix gasped, and Mrs. Malfoy pressed her lips together.

"I only meant… that nobody has yet succeeded… Severus… please… You are, you have always been, Draco's favorite teacher… You are Lucius's old friend… I beg you… You are the Dark Lord's favorite, his most trusted advisor… Will you speak to him, persuade him—?"

"The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it," Severus said flatly. "I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got himself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed."

"Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge! He does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!"

Severus said nothing. He stood by the window. Mrs. Malfoy stood and staggered to him, grabbing the front of his robes. Her tears were falling onto his chest as she spoke.

"You could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. You would succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond all of us—"

Severus grabbed her wrists and moved her away from him. He looked down at her and spoke slowly. "He intends me to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as a spy."

"In other words, it doesn't matter to him if Draco is killed!"

"The Dark Lord is very angry," Severus said quietly. "He failed to hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive easily."

Mrs. Malfoy fell at his feet, moaning on the floor. "My son… my only son…"

"You should be proud!" Bellatrix hissed. "If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!"

Mrs. Malfoy screamed and clutched at her hair. Severus stooped and lifted her up by a strong grip on her arms, steering her back to the sofa. He poured her another glass of wine and put it in her hand.

"Narcissa, that's enough. Drink this. Listen to me." She managed to slosh wine down herself. "It might be possible… for me to help Draco."

She sat up, paper-white, eyes huge. "Severus—oh, Severus—you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?"

"I can try."

Mrs. Malfoy flung herself down to kneel at his feet. She grabbed his hand and kissed it.

"If you are there to protect him… Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"The Unbreakable Vow?"

His face had gone utterly blank. Hermione knew he must've been Occluding from the way the color sort of dimmed in the memory.

Bellatrix cackled.

"Aren't you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he'll try, I'm sure… The usual empty words, the usual slithering out of action… oh, on the Dark Lord's orders, of course!"

"Certainly, Narcissa," Severus said without looking at Bellatrix. "I shall make the Unbreakable Vow. Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Severus knelt opposite Mrs. Malfoy and they grasped right hands.

"You will need your wand, Bellatrix," Severus said coldly. She drew it, still looking astonished. "And you will need to move a little closer."

Scowling, Bellatrix stepped forward so that she stood over them, and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands.

"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"I will."

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire. The memory itself seemed to glow red-orange around the edges.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will."

A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain. All the blues and greens sort of faded from the memory.

"And, should it prove necessary… if it seems Draco will fail…" whispered Mrs. Malfoy, "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

There was a moment's silence. Severus had twitched when Mrs. Malfoy began her last term of the Vow, but Mrs. Malfoy hadn't noticed. Bellatrix's eyes were wide.

"I will."

Their faces glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake. The memory went entirely red, then white, and then returned to normal.

Hermione slipped clumsily out of his mind, dropping onto a memory from Severus's school days on her way out. The first time he'd met the Black sisters, they'd been having a fight. He'd been eleven years old; they'd been in the common room bickering about something or other. They'd been a little bit terrifying, screeching at each other.

"I wish you hadn't done that," she said, closing her eyes again.

"You'd rather not know?"

"I wish you hadn't made the Vow!" she snapped, sitting back to glare at him.

"It was the best way."

"You walk a very fine line," she said through clenched teeth.

"I'm good at it."

"Because you've been doing it since you were fifteen," she said, bitter. He almost smiled at her.

"I'd like to kiss you."

"Okay."

He laughed. "I wasn't asking permission; it was an admission of guilt."

"Severus Snape," she said, waiting until he looked at her before she continued, "you are allowed to touch me wherever you please and kiss me whenever you like."

"Don't tempt me."

She returned to her own chair, folding her legs under her again. "It's just something you should know."

"You are a student. My student."

"I know." She rubbed her forehead, finally beginning to feel tired.

"Is that all you're going to say, then?" he asked after a moment. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"What else is there to say?"

"About the Vow."

"I can't think what else to say about that, either. Not at the moment. I'm furious you did it and I'm trying not to think about it because you'll probably end up dead. I don't know if I'm angrier with you about it, or the headmaster!" She felt like throwing something—preferably throwing something at him—but there was nothing to hand except the tea, and that would be a mess. "God damn it, Severus!"

"There are… plans. We really did know what was coming. The headmaster has taken steps."

"You mean he has other spies to fall back on."

"There are other spies, I'm sure, but that's not what I meant. I meant that there is a plan for carrying on once he is dead."

"What?"

"Albus Dumbledore is dying," he said, looking away from her to pour himself a fresh cup of tea. He didn't continue until he'd sat back in his chair again with the cup to warm his hands. "His hand, his whole arm now, is slowly killing him. He has months left, maybe a year."

"And the Vow?"

"It ends with Dumbledore's death. Draco was tasked with killing him."

"At least Harry's not entirely crazy."

"Your friend is putting himself in danger. Again." Severus shot her a glare, but the weight of it was spoiled by the soft glow of the fire on his cheekbones and the steaming teacup in his hands. "Draco is scared."

"Of course he is. He doesn't want to do it."

"He wants to want to do it, and that is what scares him. He knows it isn't the right thing."

"So you're going to do it for him."

"Unless the curse does it first."

"And meanwhile Harry is in the way and he might end up collateral damage."

"And if Draco accidentally kills him, the Dark Lord will kill Draco, which will, in turn, kill me."

"So stop Harry up. I can do that."

"Don't. Dumbledore needs him in full form."

"What for?"

"That's a secret that I know that you already know." He smirked, then used his classroom voice, saying, " You're fishing, Miss Granger. Feeling me out."

She smiled at him and was immediately annoyed with him for making her smile.

"The headmaster has already made Harry the good soldier he made you. Maybe he'd even done it the moment he stepped on the train."

"Oh, he surely did." Severus crossed one leg over the other at the knee and stared down into his tea. "The boy's whole life, from the moment his parents died, was an introduction to the game. Sending him to live with those people, then sending the gentle giant to rescue him."

"That gentle giant has rescued me just the same. Don't—"

"I am not disparaging Hagrid; he's a good man."

"Alright then."

"Harry Potter has been raised to this game deliberately where I fell into it. And now here you are, too. Playing into the hand."

"Playing the hand I've been dealt, more like."

"No. The Weasleys are playing the hand they were dealt. Purebloods by chance, good people by upbringing. They're doing the right thing for the right reason, and they're keeping their children out of it while they can."

"But my parents aren't able to keep me out of it."

"Your parents are only in it because you are in it."

"Thanks." She frowned.

"It is what it is. I'm not blaming you."

"I am to blame."

"My father knows about magic because I exist. He hates my mother because magic exists. Thus I am to blame for the catastrophe that was my childhood, the dissolution of their marriage, my father's jail time, my mother's disfigurement, and my own presence on the shore of the lake the Christmas Dumbledore recruited me."

"That's ridiculous. You didn't choose to be born to them, or to be a wizard! You didn't make your father react the way he did."

"And you didn't choose to be born to your parents, or to be a witch. You didn't make the Dark Lord hate."

"Thank you."

She got herself another cup of tea.

A/N: This chapter is the first of the repostings!