Alright, now I really mean it when I say we're entering the final stretch (five more chapters and an epilogue as things currently stand). In my previous outline, the whole story was supposed to be finished four chapters ago. And yet, here I am with a 264-page Word file. It's crazy-go-nuts.
As always, please read and review! Let's see if we can't break 100 reviews this time round!
By the time late morning rolled around, Snape was starting to worry. When Samantha hadn't come to talk to him about the detention the previous evening, he wrote it off. If something truly gruesome had occurred, he was sure that Alecto would have been the first to march triumphantly into his office and relish in relating the entirety of the scene in agonizing detail. As he had heard nothing from the lunatic woman, he concluded that perhaps Samantha had been tired and had simply forgotten. But he had thought that she'd seek him out sooner rather than later the following day.
And it was thus that Snape found himself making his way down from his tower to Samantha's first floor quarters. Stopping at her door, he knocked and waited for an answer. Receiving none after a few moments, he knocked again.
"Professor Rhodes?" He called, starting to worry, though making sure to observe formalities should there be any lurking students in the corridors who might hear him. Surely she was awake by now, it was nearly noon.
Still nothing. Snape put his hand on the doorknob and turned. It opened without protest. No wards prevented his entrance. Either Samantha had forgotten to put them up the previous night or perhaps it was another one of those headmaster perks. He hoped it wasn't one that went into effect in the event of an emergency.
Walking into the room, Snape saw that there was a roaring fire going and a steaming cup of tea on a side table. He made his way further into the room and, upon rounding the couch, saw Samantha curled up in the corner, staring vacantly at the fire. Her arm was propped up on the arm of the couch, her head leaning against her hand. Her other hand was resting in her lap, a string of beads was wound tightly around her balled up fist.
"Samantha," he said quietly.
"Severus," she whispered in reply, though she made no move to face him. "You can sit."
Snape chose to sit near the middle of the couch. Not so close that he was touching her, but enough to, he thought, be a comforting presence should she need it. Snape looked down at her hand again. She was clutching the beads so tightly that her fingers had gone white.
Samantha looked at him then and followed his gaze to the hand in her lap. She raised her hand to eye level, her grip loosening slightly to allow the string of beads to slide from her hand. They swung back and forth; the gold cross that dangled at the end reflected the firelight.
"It's a rosary," she said by way of explanation.
Snape showed no sign of comprehension. Samantha shook her head and shrugged, as if to say that it was inconsequential.
"For praying," she said simply. "Something I haven't done in longer than I care to think about. Unfortunately, it doesn't appear to be working at the moment."
"What happened?"
Samantha sighed.
"I'm surprised Professor Carrow didn't come cackling to you about it the moment I dismissed Creevey," said Samantha. "I am quite sure she and her evil bastard of a brother had a good laugh over it, though."
"Over what?" Snape asked, his voice dropping in his anxiety.
"She tortured me until I did the same to the boy."
"What?" He hissed.
"When Creevey and I arrived, she told me to cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. When I refused, she said that she would do it to us both if I didn't. I refused again and so she made good on her word. I told her to stop when she was finished with me. I knew that if she had a go on him, she'd kill him, so I – I did it. I cast an Unforgivable. The Cruciatus Curse. On a thirteen-year-old boy. A child."
Samantha went quiet, her grip on the beads was back to white-knuckle. Snape watched her, looking for any kind of reaction, but there was nothing other than the circular indentations on her hand from the beads to give any hint as to her state of mind. Snape suspected she was in shock. He had been too the first time he'd cast that particular curse. But he couldn't compare them. At the time, he'd wanted to do it, or at least wanted to prove to his peers that he could muster up the power to do it. Samantha certainly had a temper, but torture was simply not in her vocabulary.
"And then what?" Snape asked, breaking the silence.
She just looked at him, her eyes completely blank.
"And then nothing," she said. "I dismissed him, asked her if she was happy, and left. I came back here, drank a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, and passed out on the couch vaguely hoping I'd never wake up."
"Come here," Snape whispered.
Samantha moved over the couch. When she came within reach, Snape pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly about her. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and breathed deeply.
In the back of his mind, Snape marveled at the very idea that all he need do is open his arms and she willingly fell into them. Any sexual feelings on the matter aside, that she still trusted him, even after all that he'd done, was more than he could hope for or even comprehend. It was, truly, the only thing getting him through his days.
"I can't do that again, Severus," said Samantha finally after a long silence broken only by the crackling of the fire.
"I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don't," Snape assured her as he stroked her hair. "Needless to say, the Dark Lord will hear about her actions."
Samantha shuddered.
"And he'll do the same to her, I expect?"
"He will likely make me do it," Snape said truthfully. "It would not be the first time."
"What?" Samantha asked, lifting her head to look him in the eye. "Severus, if he's going to make you do it, I don't want you to tell him."
"He will find out and if I am not the one to tell him, I'll be on the other end of the wand," he explained. "And, as I said, it wouldn't be the first time. Who do you think punished Greyback and Dolohov for attacking you?"
Samantha's mouth dropped open. Snape winced, instantly regretting his words.
"Severus!" Samantha just short of shrieked. "Why am I only now hearing about this?"
"It wasn't important," he answered.
"The hell it isn't. And I don't want you forced into it again on my account."
"It is unavoidable, Samantha," said Snape with a sigh. "I must tell him. Given our relationship and the fact that I am the headmaster, I am positive that he will tell me to do it."
Samantha grumbled unintelligibly, but soon quieted and laid her head back on his shoulder.
"Severus," she said quietly after a moment of silence.
Snape hummed in response.
"I need something to give to Minerva."
He took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out before speaking.
"The Muggleborn Commission is not as innocuous as it seems," he stated.
"I was unaware that anyone thought it was innocuous. What's changed?"
"Let's just say that the Snatchers are going to look like a street gang in a matter of weeks," he explained. "There are going to be systematic raids of the homes of Muggleborns. Even the children. Sympathizers will also, in all likelihood, be included in their list."
"So it won't just be adult witches and wizards anymore, will it?"
Snape shook his head.
"It will be Muggle homes in Muggle neighborhoods," said Samantha quietly, the worry creeping into her voice. "And they aren't going to use a simple Obliviate when they're done, are they?"
"No," he answered. "They won't. There will be no need when they're done."
"Severus, they're not – they can't. They can't kill them all, can they?"
"They will start with torture. It won't be long before it escalates, though. It is only a matter of time."
"And this will happen…?" Samantha asked, wondering how the Order could go about warning every Muggleborn in the country that their families are in danger.
"Within the next three or four weeks," Snape answered. "Tell them to use Potterwatch. It will be the fastest way to tell those who need to hear it."
Samantha pursed her lips in thought before taking a breath to speak.
"Kingsley does not entirely trust me. Minerva said that he wanted to question me under Veritaserum," Samantha said with a roll of her eyes.
"And?"
"I explained to her what we discussed. She seemed resigned to the fact that it would be nearly impossible to accomplish."
Snape nodded absently.
"We dodged a bullet, Severus," said Samantha in a serious tone. "I don't even want to think about what might have happened if I'd had to go through with an interrogation."
"On the bright side," said Snape sarcastically, "the reality is far less distasteful than the lie we're giving them."
"I just don't understand why they can't know. They kept your cover for years, why should it be any different now?"
Snape scrubbed a hand over his face before answering. He was simply exhausted.
"You aren't even supposed to know," he said bitterly. "It is on Dumbledore's orders. It is a moot point now anyway. None of them would think to trust me as you have."
"Yes, well, I used Veritaserum, didn't I?" Samantha asked sardonically. "That's a rather foolproof way to get the truth."
"I cannot," said Snape with finality. "Times have changed, the stakes are higher. Anyone who knows my true loyalties now is in more danger than they ever were before. In any case, I don't believe any of them are capable of acting as though they hate me as they do right now without knowing the truth. They may have kept my cover before, but I, as far as the Dark Lord was concerned, also had a cover to keep with them."
"Then why did you tell me?"
"Selfishness," he answered flatly. "I never wanted to put you in danger, but I selfishly wanted your trust back."
"Well, you have it. Now," said Samantha, wrapping her arms around his neck, "how about I pay you back for that little piece of intelligence?"
Nearly an hour later, both Snape and Samantha concluded that a good old-fashioned snog did wonders for one's mood.
That was, however, until Minerva McGonagall flooed unannounced into her room only to see Snape laying on top of Samantha the moment she stepped out of the fireplace.
Both Snape's and Samantha's heads turned as one to face the silently horrified woman. Snape could see her indignation building. Not more than a year ago, he would have taken pleasure in baiting her until she boiled over. Now, however, that contentious camaraderie was gone for good. He thus wisely decided to refrain from giving her any more reason to let loose the stream of invective he was sure she was struggling to restrain.
Without a word, Snape pushed himself up from his position on top of Samantha, pulling her up along with him. Once righted, he straightened his jacket and cast an imperious glance at McGonagall before turning back to Samantha.
"Professor," he said with a dip of his head.
"Headmaster," Samantha responded.
Snape looked once more at McGonagall before turning on his heel and marching out of the room.
"Samantha!" McGonagall said breathlessly, her tone edging on the accusatory.
"You could have warned me!" Samantha nearly shouted, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "What is so important that you had to floo in here without so much as a by-your-leave?"
"Severus is about to find out," she answered. "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood have just been caught trying to steal Gryffindor's sword right out of his office."
"What?" Samantha asked, shouting properly now. "Who caught them?"
"Filch."
"And? What's to happen now?" Samantha asked, smoothing down her clothes and hair.
"I came here to ask if you could find that out," said McGonagall, agitation and anxiety clear in her voice. "Filch went straight to Amycus and now he's got them locked up in his office."
"And what am I supposed to do about it?"
McGonagall looked pointedly at the couch. Samantha followed her line of sight and, upon realizing what the woman was implying, squeezed her eyes shut and let out a harsh breath.
"I'll do what I can," Samantha said flatly. "You said they are in Amycus' office?"
McGonagall nodded.
"Alright, I'll go. I will let you know if I can find out anything."
Samantha rushed toward the door, McGonagall on her heels, and grabbed her robes before closing the door behind her. The two women parted ways, McGonagall to the Gryffindor common room and Samantha to the Dark Arts classroom.
She didn't get far before Snape came bursting out of the room, holding Longbottom by the collar with the remaining two in tow, each being manhandled by a Carrow.
"I don't understand why I can't handle this," Amycus was saying, sounding rather disappointed.
"Because I said so," Snape answered pitilessly. "It was my office and I shall discipline them as I see fit."
"Headmaster?" Samantha asked as Snape approached.
Snape stopped when he saw her. He looked back at the Carrows.
"Alecto, Amycus, we are finished here," he said in clear dismissal.
The siblings stared at him, gaping. Snape raised an eyebrow, as if to dare them to contradict him.
"Escort these two to my office," Snape instructed Samantha, flicking his head toward Luna and Ginny.
Knowing that she had to keep in character, Samantha set her face and approached the pair.
"Ladies," she sneered at them before grasping the backs of their necks rather more roughly than necessary. The two winced and Samantha did so inwardly along with them.
She steered them along behind Snape, all three women working to keep up with his long strides.
The gargoyle guarding Snape's office leapt aside when Snape growled at it as he approached. He roughly shoved Neville up the stairs, nearly causing him to fly headlong into the door at the top of the staircase.
With an agitated swish of his wand, Snape conjured a third chair in front of his desk. He practically threw Neville into it as Samantha roughly pushed the girls into the two remaining chairs. She moved to stand beside Snape's desk, her arms crossed.
"Do you realize the trouble you are in, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape snarled at the boy as he gripped the arms of his chair, their faces mere inches apart.
To his credit, Neville didn't flinch, but there was definitely fear in his eyes.
"You broke into my office and tried to steal from me," he continued in a low, dangerous voice.
Snape straightened suddenly and touched his chin with his pointer finger.
"What shall we do with you three?" He asked softly, his eyes glittering with malevolence.
Samantha had to marvel at his ability to terrorize.
"Professor? What do you think?" Snape asked, turning back to her.
She was able to catch herself from gaping at him. Instead, she plastered a smirk on her face and shrugged.
"Detentions are, of course, in order," she answered.
The shiver that ran through the assembled students was immediate. They had, obviously, already heard about Creevey's detention. That also meant, however, that they would have also heard about her own experience. It would certainly explain the rather odd look Ginny Weasley was giving her.
"Indeed," he said. "You three will spend every evening next week serving detention."
Samantha had to fight the urge to ask him to reconsider. They would never survive a week under Carrow's wand.
"You will serve those detentions," he continued, "with Hagrid."
Samantha was both relieved and shocked at how lightly they were getting off. How would Snape explain this one away? She would certainly need an answer for McGonagall.
"You aren't as bad as they say you are," said Luna dreamily.
Her fellow students gaped at her in horror. Samantha fought the urge to laugh while Snape simply glared sourly at the girl.
"I assure you that I am, Miss Lovegood," said Snape with frightening certainty. "You will all return to your common rooms immediately, no detours."
The trio stood and just short of stampeded toward the door. She suspected they were trying to get out before Snape regained his senses and decided to inflict either of the Carrows on them.
The moment the door closed, Samantha turned to face Snape. He shook his head.
"In there," he said, pointing to the door to his private rooms.
Before they could make their escape, a familiar aged voice made his presence in his portrait known.
"Severus," Dumbledore said in warning.
Snape stopped and sighed before turning to face the man himself.
"Albus," he answered simply.
Samantha stood looking between the two, unsure of what to do. It was clear that Dumbledore had become quite aware of Snape's duplicity.
"I think you both have some explaining to do," said Dumbledore, eyeing both Snape and Samantha.
"Sir, if I may, Severus only confirmed the doubts I already had regarding his actions," Samantha explained, trying to shift some of the blame onto herself.
"I think he did more than that," he said sternly. "You two have made plans of your own, haven't you?"
"I told you that I needed a way to get information to the Order, Albus. She is able to do that and has done that," said Snape, sounding rather defiant.
Before Dumbledore could respond, someone started pounding on Snape's office door. Snape crossed the room in three long strides and wrenched the door open.
"What?" He growled.
"Those little bastards have done it again!" Amycus shouted.
Snape's face was thunderous as he followed Carrow down the staircase, Samantha right behind him. Carrow led them to the Entrance Hall, where a large crowd of students had gathered, all gaping at the entrance to the Great Hall.
Carrow roughly shoved students aside as he and Snape made their way closer to the doors. There, above the doors, "Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting!" was emblazoned in three-foot high lettering. Samantha, who had brought up the rear, sighed and clapped a hand to her forehead.
Snape whirled around to face the students. He scanned their faces, clearly trying to find the culprits who, unsurprisingly, were not among the crowd.
"The students who did this," said Snape, pointing toward the graffiti, "will be found and they will be made an example of. In the meantime, all students are forbidden from forming or attending meetings of any student organizations unless I myself have approved it. The consequences of violating this rule will be…dire. Now, return to your common rooms. Immediately."
As the students dispersed, Carrow began making his case.
"We all know it was the Longbottom boy who did this. The Dark Lord told me to discipline the little blighters, so I don't see why I can't have a go at him."
"We don't know that," said Snape silkily. "If we should find that he did, by all means, have a 'go' at him. Until that time, he shall serve the detentions I have seen fit to assign."
"You're not givin' 'em to me and Alecto?" He asked, sounding distinctly disappointed.
"They will be accompanying Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest."
Carrow took a breath to argue, but Snape cut him off.
"I assure you, the task will be punishment enough. The creatures living there are not so benign as the oaf seems to think."
Snape hated having to insult Hagrid. Bright though the man may not be, his loyalty, once given, was steadfast. He had been one of the few to treat Snape with respect, perhaps based on a shared sense of exclusion from the wizarding world, alongside Dumbledore's evident trust in him. Whatever the reason, he had been grateful for it and treating him as nothing more than the subhuman Voldemort and his followers thought he was left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Why don't you just have her do it?" Carrow asked, nodding toward Samantha. "Alecto told me she could use a little practice. Said she doesn't quite have the stomach for it yet. Unless you don't want your little plaything getting her hands dirty."
"Why you –"
"Enough," Snape hissed, stopping Samantha before she could get started. "I have made my decision and, in case you have forgotten, I am the headmaster and you will abide by it. You may recall that I do have the stomach for discipline, Amycus."
Carrow took a step back from Snape, looking chastened and just a little nervous. He was, after all, picking a fight with the man who killed Albus Dumbledore.
"And speaking of Alecto," Snape continued, "go inform your sister that I wish to have a word with her after dinner regarding last night's activities."
Nodding sharply, Carrow took his leave. And not a moment too soon, as Samantha was near her breaking point.
"Not here," said Snape in a low voice.
Snape led Samantha down to the dungeons and into the lab. He wisely cast a strong Muffliato the moment he closed the door.
"If that bastard is going to speak to me like that, I will develop the stomach for torture!" Samantha shouted, her voice getting louder as she spoke.
"No you won't," said Snape quietly. "You're not like us."
Samantha whirled around to face Snape, concern etched into her features.
"You mean 'them,' don't you?"
Snape shook his head.
"You felt the power when you cast Crucio," he said. "And it made you sick, made you feel guilty, didn't it?"
"Yes," Samantha answered carefully.
"And you would feel like that regardless of who was on the other end of your wand," said Snape. It was not a question. "That surge of power, for me, is a thrill."
"I felt it too," she said in little more than a whisper. "The guilt was there after, but not while I was doing it."
Snape looked at Samantha with an intensity that made her uneasy.
"I never want to do it again because I don't want to know where that road leads," she continued.
Snape spread his arms wide.
"Take a good look," he said with a sneer.
Samantha approached Snape and placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down onto one of the stools.
"You are not that man, Severus," Samantha told him. "You aren't like them. They have no conscience, they feel no guilt for what they've done."
"And yet I do it all the same."
"Because you must," she amended.
"For the greater good? All manner of sins have been explained away under that banner."
Samantha ran her fingers through his hair, her hand coming to rest at the back of his head. She rubbed her thumb across his cheek as she tilted his head up to face her, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"These are extraordinary circumstances. We are all forced to do things we would rather not do," she said pointedly as a reminder of what she'd had to do the previous night. "You are not the man who took the Mark all those years ago. Your desire for redemption is so great…"
Samantha trailed off and a far away look crossed her face. She gave him a small smile.
"You would be a great Catholic," she said with a soft chuckle. "All that guilt, feelings of worthlessness, an unquenchable desire for redemption; yes, you'd fit right in."
Snape cocked his head in confusion.
"Why did you look so peaceful when we went on Christmas? And every time you'd gone, when you got back –"
Samantha shook her head.
"Hard as it is to understand, peace and guilt don't have to be mutually exclusive."
"Really?" Snape asked sarcastically.
"Yes, really," she said, playfully shoving him. "Any guilt I've ever had has made me feel like I'm on the right track, that my moral compass is in working order, that I'm going in the right direction. There is, I think, a certain amount of peace in that."
"Perhaps my 'moral compass' is working, but you have nowhere near as far to travel as I do."
"Oh, Severus," said Samantha with a sigh. "What ever am I going to do with you?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer her.
"Perhaps, while are down here, we should get some work done," he suggested. "Some healing potions may not be amiss."
Samantha's expression became serious once more and she nodded before beginning to gather equipment and ingredients.
By the time dinner rolled around, they had made healing pastes for bruises and burns and started the base for the Blood-Replenishing Potion.
Just as Snape moved to open the door to the lab, Samantha placed a hand on his to stop him from turning the knob. When he turned to look at her, the question clear on his face, she smiled and placed a hand on his cheek to draw his face to hers. She kissed him sweetly before pulling back to allow him to open the door.
As they walked side-by-side to the Great Hall, Snape thought he could get used to spending afternoons like this. If they survived this and, of course, won this war, he liked to think that Samantha wouldn't mind obliging him. He knew absolutely at that moment that he could think of nothing better than spending the rest of his days with the woman at his side. The thought nearly stopped him in his tracks. He was sure it was a feeling that had been lurking somewhere in his subconscious, but it had never been so clear as it was in that moment. It carried with it the kind of absoluteness to which he was not often privy.
These thoughts of future happiness swiftly fled from his mind the moment they stepped into the Great Hall. He had still not grown used to the hundreds of faces sneering at him with unbridled hatred in their eyes. On top of that, Alecto Carrow was glaring the proverbial daggers at him from her seat at the head table.
Ah yes, he would be forced to speak with her after dinner. Snape suddenly felt his appetite leave him. He could well imagine the rant she would unleash on him the moment his office door closed.
Upon further inspection of the table's occupants, he noticed a conspicuously empty seat directly next to his. He quickly saw that McGonagall had left her usual chair vacant and had, instead, opted for Samantha's. He was fairly certain that the rearrangement was due in large part to the day's events. Casting a sidelong glance at Samantha as they made their way up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, he saw that she too had noticed the change. There was a look of consternation on her face, but it was soon replaced with a neutral mask. Good girl.
As they took their seats, there were a few curious glances from the students, most of whom were Slytherins. They were typically the only students who would take note of such things as seating arrangements, given that many of them had grown up in households in which the location of one's chair with regards to the head of the table carried deep meaning. After all, they were the most preoccupied with hierarchies. That Samantha was now seated directly next to the headmaster spoke volumes to them. Even if neither of them had any idea that she was about to be awarded such a place of honor until that very moment.
Samantha sat stiffly beside Snape's chair, trying to avoid McGonagall's eyes, all the while knowing that she would have to speak with the woman sooner rather than later to pass on her latest intelligence, as well as inform her of the fate of her students.
Rather than rounding the table to sit, Snape strode to the front of the dais to address the students.
"Silence," Snape's voice boomed over the chattering students. "As some of you are already aware, I have decided to ban the formation or continued existence of any student organizations that I have not personally approved."
The groan that surged forth was quickly quelled by Snape's sweeping glare.
"Any students caught breaking this rule will face a highly unpleasant punishment."
With that, Snape turned on his heel and made his way to the head chair between Samantha and Amycus.
After his announcement, dinner was a subdued affair, though it was obvious from the tone of the students' conversations that they were discussing the injustice of it all. Which it undoubtedly was, but, in the end, it was for their protection. The more ways Snape could find to keep them out of trouble meant less opportunity for the Carrows to get their hands on them. Perhaps, once this was all over, they would see his actions for what they were. Though he sincerely doubted any of them would get over their dislike any time soon, no matter his intentions.
Before Samantha could get away, McGonagall leaned over to engage her in conversation.
"I had a most interesting conversation with Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley," she said without preamble.
"Did you?" Samantha murmured in response.
"It seems Severus has given them detentions with Hagrid, of all people."
Her tone suggested she didn't entirely believe the story she'd been told.
"He did."
McGonagall's eyebrows shot up at Samantha's confirmation.
"Did you say anything?"
Samantha shook her head.
"Then why did he do it?"
"Contrary to what you may believe, Minerva, I am not privy to the inner workings of Severus Snape's mind," said Samantha curtly. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so annoyed by McGonagall's questions.
The woman shrank back a little at Samantha's sharp tone.
"Well, given the position I found you in this–"
"I am not discussing this here," she hissed in a harsh whisper.
McGonagall clearly took affront to Samantha's attitude, but gave up any attempt to continue the conversation.
The moment the students began to filter out of the hall, Samantha saw Snape stand and beckon for Alecto to follow him. The children parted like the Red Sea as Snape made his way down the center aisle toward the doors, Alecto in his wake.
Snape had seen the look on Samantha's face as McGonagall spoke to her. He had an idea what the topic at hand was and her terse tone of voice, though he could not make out any specific words, was a clear indication of what Samantha thought of whatever it was McGonagall was saying.
As he thought about this, as well as the woman following on his heels, he regretted having brought Samantha into this mess. She had been tortured by Alecto and was treated with suspicion and, he was sure, a touch of revulsion by McGonagall. The look on her face when she'd caught them that morning was all he needed to see to know what the woman thought of their relationship. He wondered what she would think if she knew the truth.
Upon reaching his office, he strode through the door leaving Alecto to follow behind him. He would have normally allowed a woman to enter before he did, but he felt no need to observe such niceties with Alecto Carrow.
"Sit," he commanded.
She glared at him, but did as he said.
"What did you think you were doing last night?" He asked in a deceptively soft voice.
"She needs to learn her place!" Carrow cried defiantly.
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"And that is your role? The Dark Lord gave you the task of disciplining the students, but he did not grant you permission to break in my staff."
"She's different," she replied petulantly.
"Is she?" Snape asked sarcastically.
"She's one of us, ain't she," Alecto explained. "Amycus told me about you and her–"
"Precisely. She and I," Snape cut in. "I believe any reprimand she may need would thus be within my purview. She is mine to manage."
This wasn't the argument he'd been prepared to make, but it would, he decided, hold up reasonably well with both the Carrows and Voldemort.
"Now, is this something I need to bring to the Dark Lord?" Snape asked.
Alecto shook her head.
"Good. If you don't mind," he continued, "I have work to do."
Snape sat down at his desk and picked up a quill. Alecto rightly took this as a dismissal and shuffled out of the office.
"Severus," came Dumbledore's voice from behind him.
Snape turned to look over his shoulder at the portrait hung behind his chair.
"I believe you now have the explanation you wanted earlier," said Snape curtly. "I will not discuss this further."
He threw the quill down on the desk, stood abruptly, and walked across the room to the entrance to his private quarters. Once inside, he slammed the door shut behind him and slid down the wood toward the cool stone floor. His legs were sprawled out in front of him and his hands rested in his lap.
After a moment, he reached up to unbutton his jacket and untie the cravat that seemed more constricting than ever. He snorted mirthlessly at the metaphor.
"Story of my life," Snape muttered bitterly to himself.
He pulled the silken material from around his neck and allowed his hand to fall bonelessly back to his lap. Snape leaned more fully on the door, his head making a soft thud as it fell back. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths.
Snape wasn't sure that he could handle many more days like this one. He hoped against hope, something he didn't often allow himself to do, that his universal dressing down would keep at least some of the students and his staff in line. It was probably asking for too much, and he knew he still had to answer to Dumbledore eventually, but all he wanted for now was to make it through Christmas with no catastrophes.
As he stared up at the ceiling, Snape let his mind drift. He recalled the previous Christmas; it seemed so long ago now. He supposed it meant that this would be something of an anniversary for he and Samantha, but he doubted she paid any more attention to such things than he did. Not that he'd ever had call to do so. Still, the idea of anniversaries was pleasant to think about. Snape drifted off to sleep, still sprawled on the floor and half leaning on the door, wondering if they would have any more.
