Severus had never known 12 Grimmauld Place to be so quiet, especially when there were so many people in residence. Even that obnoxious portrait kept her mouth shut, watching him through narrowed eyes as he strode down the hall.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said. "We're so glad you came."
Did the others share that sentiment? Probably not. Most of them did take the time to greet him, though he couldn't help noticing that the mood had changed as soon as he'd entered the room. Obviously, they hadn't forgotten his dislike for Black, which wasn't surprising. He certainly hadn't bothered to hide it the last time he was here.
"Headmaster," he said.
More than a dozen Order members had gathered around the table, sipping drinks or engaging in quiet conversation. He accepted the chair Dumbledore offered, relieved to be seated next to someone as benign as Arthur Weasley.
"Of course," Dumbledore said as he took up residence at the head of the table, "we all know why we're here. Sirius Black was…"
"A dear friend."
"Yes, Remus, though I imagine you'll agree he was much more than that. He fought valiantly for our cause, ultimately giving his life to protect his godson. He'll be…"
"Sorely missed."
"Indeed, Molly. A tragic loss, one that will not be forgotten."
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus focused on the cup of tea he'd been given as the others expressed their sorrows. He couldn't pretend he shared their grief – from his perspective, Black had been an arrogant fool who'd made one bad decision after another, the most recent of which had claimed his life. Granted, he wasn't happy that his former nemesis was dead… but he wasn't sorry about it either.
"Severus, would you like to say a few words?"
He froze, shocked to find himself in such an awkward position. Then again, was it really so surprising? Dumbledore had spent years doing the same thing with Potter, determined to force him to say something positive about the boy. Obnoxious, yes, but at least that had been a private affair. It had never involved a captive audience, subjecting him to what felt like unbearable scrutiny.
Unbearable or not, he maintained his composure. He sipped at his tea, his expression stoic.
"In the future," he said. "We must be extra vigilant. We would not want Black's death to be in vain."
It wasn't what Dumbledore hoped for, obviously, but it seemed to satisfy the others. They murmured in approval, turning their attention to the food as Molly summoned several platters from the kitchen. After that, the subject matter mostly revolved around Order business, a subject Severus found much easier to stomach. He even managed to eat a little, lingering over the meal for as long as possible.
"More pudding?" Molly said.
Shaking his head, he mumbled his thanks as he rose to his feet. By then, more than half the Order members had departed, presenting him with the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He ducked into the sitting room, searching for the box he'd seen in Potter's memories. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.
He stepped back into the hallway, hesitating as he glanced at the staircase. Was the box up there? Quite possibly, though he knew he couldn't risk going upstairs. There were still too many people around, and of course, he'd have no legitimate reason for being up there. He'd just have to wait for a better opportunity, assuming the box was still at Grimmauld Place. If Potter had taken it with him…
"Did you need something, Severus?"
He shook his head, irritated by Lupin's genial expression. Black had been an absolute shit, but at least he hadn't bothered to hide his hostility. That was preferable to the werewolf's excessive politeness, which was as grating as it was insincere.
"Nothing at all," he said smoothly. "I'll just be on my way."
Severus sat up in bed, shielding his eyes against a blinding flash of light. He reached for his wand, only to set it back down as he recognized Dumbledore's Patronus.
"Hogwarts," the phoenix said in a feeble voice. "Please, Severus, come quickly."
Five minutes later, he landed outside the gates, wishing he could've Apparated directly to the castle. He ran all the way to the Headmaster's office, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the gargoyle to move aside.
"Headmaster?"
Dumbledore was slumped over in his chair, barely conscious. He groaned, seemingly incapable of speech as he lifted his right hand a few inches. It was blackened, burned, obviously affected by some horrendous curse… Severus swore under his breath, casting a quick counterspell to bring the worst of the damage under control before he raced to the dungeon. Thankfully, he had the potion he needed, the most powerful antidote to Dark magic in existence. He worked tirelessly, though despite his best efforts, it soon became clear that the curse could not be reversed.
By then, he'd noticed the ring on the desk. It was a peculiar thing, ancient and sinister, the front of it cracked as if someone had removed a small object from its surface. A jewel, perhaps? Severus shook his head, glancing at the sword as he muttered another incantation.
"Why?" he demanded as Dumbledore came back to consciousness. "Why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
Ignoring the flurry of questions, Dumbledore examined his damaged hand. He seemed unnaturally calm, his tone pleasant as he praised Severus for his work.
"How long do you think I have?"
A year to live, and still, he showed no sign of alarm. He simply accepted the news, shrugging it off like he'd just been told it was going to rain tomorrow.
"Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward." Obviously noticing Severus's confusion, he continued, "I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
Severus sat down, infuriated all over again as he glanced at Dumbledore's hand. He didn't bother to comment, however, realizing that particular subject was not up for debate.
"The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed," he said. "This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures."
Dumbledore had already come to that conclusion, of course. He'd also deduced that Severus himself would be expected to finish the job. He knew Voldemort was planning to take control of the school in the near future, extracting a promise from Severus that he'd do everything in his power to protect the students.
As for Draco…
"Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. "You must kill me."
Without question, it was the worst thing anyone had ever asked him to do. Why had he agreed to it?
Because Dumbledore's logic was sound. Even Severus had to admit that, unable to think of a better solution. Dumbledore's days were already numbered. A quick, painless death would obviously be preferable to the agony he'd suffer when the curse began to spread. He wouldn't have to worry about enemies taking control of the school, and yes, Draco would be spared. Murderous intent as opposed to an act of mercy? There was no comparison.
Still, it was a terrible thing to ask. To kill a man he truly respected, one he could almost call a friend? Every fiber of his being rebelled against it, though what choice did he have? He'd already given his word, and besides, his first and most important loyalty would always belong to Lily. She was the reason behind all of this, his vow to protect her son compelling him to proceed with the plan. It didn't matter how distasteful that plan might be, nor how reluctant he was to go through with it. If he had to kill Dumbledore to bring about Voldemort's defeat… well, he supposed there was no alternative.
That only became more apparent following his meeting with Narcissa. Until then, some small part of him had hoped that Dumbledore would find a loophole, sparing him from branding himself as a murderer and traitor. Now? He'd taken the Unbreakable Vow, forced to prove his loyalty beyond all doubt. His course of action had been set… there was nothing to do now but follow it to its bitter conclusion.
Severus didn't return to Grimmauld Place until late August, relieved to discover that the house was empty. Of course, that wasn't likely to last, but…
"Get out of my house, you traitorous Half-blood scum!"
He didn't bother to respond, smirking as he silenced the portrait. He'd wondered why the others let her carry on with her abuse, only to realize that they didn't know any spells that might stop her. Those incantations did involve Dark magic, after all, something they avoided at all costs.
If he'd been more generous, he might've offered a solution. At the very least, he might've acted on their behalf while he was in residence. He was who he was, however, barely able to suppress his amusement as Black's face had turned a mottled shade of red.
"Blood traitor! Worthless filth! You are a stain upon my family's name…"
"SHUT UP!"
Indeed, perhaps there were a few things he'd miss about the miserable old dog.
Gripping his wand, Severus crept upstairs, pausing to Disillusion himself before he opened the closest door. He checked several rooms before he arrived at what could only be Black's bedroom. Who else would have chosen such tacky decor, cheap posters and Gryffindor colors covering the walls? He stumbled over an empty wine bottle, shaking his head as he scanned the shelves.
Where the bloody hell was the box? What was inside it? After nearly six months, he'd become desperate, willing to sacrifice almost anything for even the smallest memento of Lily. Was it wrong, attempting to take something that technically belonged to someone else? Perhaps, though what did it matter? If Potter couldn't even open it…
Honestly, Severus didn't know if he'd be able to open it either. Lily's talent with charms had exceeded his own, especially when it came to complex or rarely used spells. Still, he had as good a chance as anyone, probably better than most. Didn't he deserve an opportunity to try?
Perhaps, though that logic did him little good at the moment. The box was nowhere in sight, rekindling his fear that the boy had taken it somewhere else. He searched several more rooms before he finally gave up, shoulders slumping in defeat as he headed downstairs. But then suddenly, he stopped, one hand resting on the doorknob as he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Accio… Lily's box."
After a moment, he heard a rattling sound from somewhere far above his head, followed by what could only be a house-elf shouting in protest. The box flew down the staircase, nearly knocking him over as it slammed into his chest.
He didn't know where it had come from. Didn't care, really. He tucked it under his arm, his heart pounding with anticipation as he Apparated back to Spinner's End.