With the Halloween feast thankfully finished, I swept down to my office in relief of its cool solitude. The sound of all the children laughing with each other and having an excuse to be light hearted in the midst of a war put a sickening knot in my stomach. I almost forget now why the thought of becoming a Professor at Hogwarts filled me with feelings of superiority and pride. The fact that the Dark Lord had singled me out above all others was momentous in my standing. His most trusted and dedicated servant. Yet the turning of events vanquished it all to dust.

I could feel Albus' infrequent but persistent eyes fix me throughout dinner from down the long oak table where I sat, resolute in silence with occasional sips of wine or tastes of stew. But I refused to consent their obtrusiveness with my acknowledgement. Instead I kept my mind blank and unfeeling. I let the noise of students wash over me; I let my mind sink into oblivion and fall into a cocoon of quiet. But sweeping down through the castle now, it began to build up again as it often did; an infection never quite eradicated by any medicinal efforts.

Upon reaching my office door, I slammed it shut with a bang, as if hoping the expense of my ever suffocating anguish would be vanquished by doing so.

It was not.

The chilly room was sparse of affection but on the other hand was filled with a collection of jars of potions ingredients that I had tried to busy myself with.

I stood in the darkness in a sort of slow burning, crazed turmoil. It was like an inexpressible hunger that could not be satisfied, an endless thrumming in the background of my mind. It would not dissipate with sleep but fill my dreams with myself running futilely towards an unknown destination. I would not be thrown into relief with the tedium of teaching first years or dealing with the various illicit activities of my houses students. I brandished my wand violently at my office door to cast my usual enchantments at its entrance to seal it and strode to sit at my desk. I prodded its tip at the stub of candle wick to relight it.

I sucked in several long, deep, steading breathes through a tight chest and dry throat. It had been this way since understanding that the Dark Lord intended to hunt down the Potters and kill her boy. A pair of dark green eyes swam before my eyes in a tantalising hypnosis. They stared at me in their quiet way, not in reproach but in something softer than resolution. How I yearned to have not spoken of the Prophecy, how it haunted my every waking moment. She had been in hiding for so long now and yet the fear never went from me. If I was the one to come about the death of my dearest, my dearest - how could I ever …

Nonetheless, if they had evaded the Dark Lord thus far, it must be seen as encouraging. Those who displeased him managed to last only a mere week or two at most before being found, at least the most accomplished of his enemies anyway. The bastard Black who was their secret keeper, however much I despised him, seemed unlikely to betray his best friend Potter. Also he himself said he would not harm her when he found them, if she was sensible…

The anguish that had settled itself within me quietened a little at these thoughts. It was unwise to lose control and focus. With my breathing easier I set about marking the homework of my mostly inept class of third years by candlelight. Several hours had passed and I had nearly succumbed to the desire to turn in for the night, when my office was suddenly filled with a startlingly silver phoenix patronus that blinded me for a moment. It opened its beak -

Severus,

If you would consent to coming up to my office immediately, I would be most grateful.

Albus

I left Dumbledores office an immeasurable amount of time later and walked through my own into my room.

I sunk to the cold floor.

I was alive, yet everything was screaming at me that I was dead.