Chapter 35

Severus awoke the next morning as the grey strands of dawn began to thread their way through the narrow castle windows set high in the walls of his bedchamber. Turning to face the source of the unexpected warmth next to him, the witch that had arrived like a thief in the night and stolen his heart and sanity, he looked upon the visitor who had fucked him senseless, and then snuggled up next to him like a small child needing comfort.

She was already awake, her face still flushed with the heat of deep slumber, eyes only recently opened. No doubt him moving and turning had awakened her.

"What time is it?" she murmured, pushing a clump of messy curls away from her face.

"I should imagine it is not yet six," he replied, glancing at the small amount of light outside.

Granger edged a hand across the mattress towards him, stroking the sparse black hair on his naked chest, her small fingertips tracing around a particularly vicious-looking scar; an unpleasant souvenir from one of the Dark Lord's many punishment sessions.

"Is there time for more?"

Was she serious? There was no possible way that the girl was compelled, and yet she was seeking him out. She was too tempting, too comforting, too close to his heart for him ever to reject her.

"What do you desire of me?" he asked, knowing that his black eyes were boring into hers.

"More."

She shuffled her body across the bed, closing the gap between them and pressing her nakedness along the full length of his front. Catching him around the head with her hand, she stole his mouth again, as she had done last night. He was a happy victim, however, and allowed her to peck searching little kisses upon his lips, raking her fingers through his hair in her inexperienced attempts to entice him.

However, there would never be any need for her to employ such tactics, since his desire for her was ever-present, and it was less than a minute before he opened his mouth to receive her, pushing back on her tongue with his own, returning her attentions by tumbling her over on to her back and running a rough hand down the side of her smooth body. Merlin, he loved the very feel of her, he could touch and stroke her soft skin endlessly.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over her and continued to plunder her mouth from above, swiping his tongue around hers with increasing speed, enjoying the small squeaks of pleasure that were escaping from her. His other hand touched her everywhere as he kissed her sweet lips – stroking, squeezing, massaging, and at length he pushed her thighs apart, feeling the intensity of her kissing increase as he spread her labia and began to play with her most sensitive parts.

Dipping two fingers inside her, he drew out some of her wetness and spread it around her clitoris, starting a slow circle around the bud, which began to swell under his touch. As he allowed the delicate nub to slide between his fingers; dropping it, before picking it up again immediately, she moaned into his mouth, and he drew back a fraction from their open-mouthed kiss.

"Tell me you like my touch, Granger," he begged, sounding far too needy for his own liking.

"I love how you touch me," she sighed in reply, licking along his lower lip.

He groaned loudly, his actions completely unguarded. He was lost to this girl.

Lost.

"Do you need me to fuck you, after you come?" he asked, not ceasing the movements of his fingers.

"Yes, Severus," she replied, without him needing to remind her not to call him Sir. "Yes, I want you to make love to me after, please."

Her choice of words were not lost on him.

"Then I suggest that we seek your climax sooner rather than later," he advised, crudely bumping his erection against her thigh, "since I have a pressing issue that I require your assistance with."

She smiled, amused by his attempt at humour, and it was beautiful. He wasn't sure a witch had granted him with such an accepting, desiring smile ever in his life. He dropped his head to her breast, opening his mouth and fixing his lips around her firm tit, licking around her nipple before suckling the hardening peak into his mouth, gratified to hear a sharp intake of breath that indicated her pleasure as he sped up the movements of his fingers that were working on her sex.

Severus took hold of her clitoris and began to masturbate the nub in earnest, keeping up a relentless movement of twisting, stroking and circling, feeling her hips rise, thrusting upwards as she became more and more aroused. Her cries became more desperate, more frustrated, and he nipped the skin of her breast, stimulating her further.

"You are ready to come now, aren't you?" he teased, bouncing her hard little clit on a single finger.

"Yes … shit, yes, I am … please."

Severus chuckled, and spun her clit between his thumb and forefinger with no surcease, giving her no choice but to throw herself over the edge of her orgasm, her hot juices spurting from her as she came, her stomach contracting hard with the effort. He gazed down at her, writhing underneath the touch of his hand, her abundant hair surrounding her head like the corona of a debauched angel as her face and chest flush with the red bloom of her climax.

Fucking hell, he wanted her.

"Oh, good girl," he praised. "That was exceptional, and I enjoyed watching you."

"Please make love to me now," she begged. "I need you so much."

Not needing the direction, he clambered atop her, wriggling his hips into place between her thighs, nudging her legs wider to admit him as he did so. Guiding his cock to her still-pulsing entrance, he crammed himself inside her with one hard thrust, pushing her up the bed with its sheer force.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, her hands instantly flying to his back and gripping his skin, hard.

"That was the intention, yes," he drawled, beginning to immediately pump his hips and create friction between their conjoined genitals.

"I love to fuck you, Sir," she said, quietly, looking him directly in the eye as he moved atop her.

Severus was so shocked to hear her bold and direct statement that he forgot to reprimand her for the use of his school title. At that moment, it mattered not who they were to one another, it mattered only that they were an adult witch and wizard, joined together in a dance as old as time. He slid his arms under her back and hooked his hands firmly over her shoulders, pulling her down so he could piston into her so thoroughly that she would never forget him, wherever her life took her.

"I would fuck you every day for the rest of my life, Granger, should you so desire it."

Her small hands gripped his flanks, sliding down to grasp his hips, forcing him inside her faster, harder, and deeper, seemingly more enthused after his unguarded declaration. He pounded against her, balls slapping against her arse, until his orgasm came exploding from the end of his cock, bathing her insides and causing the most outstanding pulses along the full length of his penis. And the tip, fucking hell, the tip was so sensitive he almost passed out from the pleasure.

Severus forced himself to pull out of her, and lay back panting, covered in their combined fluids, and also the dried remains of last night's endeavours.

There was only one way to proceed. He summoned his wand to his fingertips, and cast it towards the bathroom, setting the many taps on the huge sunken bath to flowing, and the smells of bathing herbs began to furl through the open door, carried along on the wafts of steam from the cascading water.

"We need to wash, little witch. Can you I tempt you to join me?"

-xxx-

Snape held her hand as she walked down the two stone steps into the bath, in a strangely gentlemanly manner, as if he were walking her into a grand ball, not both of them naked and getting into a bath to wash off the fluids and scents of a night of sex.

Hermione sank into the heavenly bathtub, easily big enough for four people, that reminded her so much of a miniature-sized version of the enormous prefects' bath. Whatever herbal concoction that Snape had added to the water smelt amazing, and she could feel it working on her sore muscles the second she stepped in. She dipped straight under the water, soaking her hair; this was so much better than the archaic old bathroom at Grimmauld Place.

Sitting back in the bath, bubbles and steam around her shoulders, her wet hair now flattened to her head and hanging down her back, the ends floating on the surface of the water, she watched as Snape stepped down into the water. He did as she had done and dunked his whole body under, including his head, pushing his wet hair back as he surfaced. She'd never seen so much of his face, he always kept it partly hidden behind a lank curtain of hair. Here in the water, there was nowhere to hide, and she regarded him with interest.

His aquiline features were enhanced by the water, his black hair and eyebrows so stark against his pale, white face, and his ears stuck out ever-so slightly, which she found rather attractive. He rinsed his face, and returned her gaze. For a while, neither spoke.

"We can make love, but a shared bath has appeared to render us awkward and at a loss for conversation," he observed, smirking wryly.

Hermione propelled herself through the water towards him. This would not be awkward, she was determined, and was gratified as he scooped her up in his arms and held her close to his chest, simply resting his cheek on the top of her head. The gesture was nothing to do with the compulsion, it was not sexual, just wonderfully comforting. The steam from the water rose around them, as if enveloping them in a warm, misty shroud. He began to stroke the slippery skin on her back, scooping warm water over her shoulders so she did not get cold.

"This is nice," she murmured.

"I was under the impression, Miss Granger, that you did not do nice?" he teased, reminding of her words about kissing Charlie.

"In this instance I think that nice is acceptable."

She raised her hand to his chest, rubbing the soapy water into the sparse black hair as she continued to lean against him, before being struck with an idea.

"Would you allow me to wash your hair?"

"If it would please you to do so, then by all means, go ahead."

Snape summoned a bottle of shampoo that he must brewed himself, for the bottle was unmarked, and smelled amazing when she opened it. Hermione twisted herself so that she was kneeling on the floor of the bath between his legs, facing him. She indicated that she should dip his head fully into the water again to saturate his hair, and then, pouring a generous blob of the creamy shampoo into her palm, she began to massage it into his scalp, taking her time and paying particular attention to those places that she suspected he probably neglected; those areas where grease would build up – along the hairline on his forehead, behind his ears, and at the nape of his neck.

Focused on her task, she was surprised to suddenly hear his frustrated moan.

"Fucking hell, Granger, how can I be expected to sit like a good man and have my hair washed when your naked tits are jiggling in my face, just begging me to suck upon them?"

"If it would please you to do so, then by all means, go ahead," she teased, mocking him.

He took her at her word, and she immediately felt his seeking mouth upon her breast, suckling it deep into his mouth and flickering his tongue across the nipple. She attempted to carry on her work with his hair, but it was difficult, especially when he began fondling the other one with his hand, rolling her nipple between his fingers. His other hand took hold of one of her bum cheeks.

Holding her hands still on his head, she enjoyed the sensations, all feelings heightened by the warm, delicious-smelling water around them. Oddest of all was the fact she was washing Professor Snape's hair, naked in his private bathroom, in a position of great intimacy with a wizard she had always found terrifying, and it was wasn't odd at all. It felt … right. It felt real.

"Beautiful girl," he mumbled, swapping his mouth to the other breast and applying equal attention.

"Rinse," she instructed, pushing him lightly back, and enjoying the look of mock-disappointment upon his face.

Doing as he was bidden, Snape dipped his head under the water, and she reached forwards to ensure that all the shampoo was rinsed from his scalp before setting a tap to run clear and indicating that he should have one final rinse under there. He had just reached for the bottle of shampoo to return the favour when the call of the Floo sounded, he obviously had it set up so that he could hear his fire calls throughout his private quarters.

Looking grave, he handed her the bottle, and rose from the bath, summoning the dark green bathrobe that she had once used and wrapping himself in it. As an afterthought, he duplicated it using a neat little charm, and hung the second robe on the door hook, indicating that this was for her use.

"Stay here, finish your bath. I shall go and find out who my caller is. Do not enter my office, no matter what you may hear."

He walked out of the bathroom door and into his bedchamber, sending a rough drying charm through his hair to prevent it dripping. It looked cleaner already. Hermione heard him go through the second door, the one that led to his office. She luxuriated in the bath for a while longer, for it was so big she could actually scull around a little on the surface of the water. Then it was time to attack her hair, and she washed it thoroughly, using both shampoo and conditioner, lest her curls turn into the frizzy mass that they were prone to if not washed and conditioned properly.

Pulling the plug on the bath and stepping out, she took the conjured bath robe and wrapped it around her, tying the waist sash double and wrapping her hair in a towel. Padding through the bedroom, she located her wand and turned both Gryffindor red from their Slytherin green, just for amusement's sake.

Then she headed to the door that led to the office and pressed her ear to it, her innate need to know everything no match for politeness. She could clearly hear the distinctive voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and from the proximity it seemed like he had come through into the office. Dare she join them?

Of course she dared, she was a bloody Gryffindor. If Professor Snape was happy to receive visitors in his bathrobe, then she was too. And she wasn't ashamed to have spent the night with him, either. She was about to push open the door when she remembered his honest words from the night before.

If you decided you could not honour your promises … my heart, Hermione, I would not survive it.

He was quite right. Now was not the time to be declaring lifetime intentions, and she had no right to declare their relationship before Kingsley, without his consent, when their status wasn't even clear to themselves. Champing down on her urge to find out what the conversation was about, she tiptoed lightly to the bed and lay down, wrapping the top quilt around her legs, closing her eyes, and waited.

She hated waiting.

-xxx-

Hermione must have dozed off, as she opened her eyes with a start as the mattress dipped beside her, and Professor Snape sat down on the bed, one eyebrow arched in disapproval.

"My bathrobe appears to have been vomited on by the house of Gryffindor," he grumbled.

She couldn't help smiling at him.

"You don't like it? I thought it was a vast improvement."

"Merlin save me from bloody lions."

"I think you like us, secretly."

"You may be correct. I have time for some of you, anyway," Snape agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Now, I have slightly more pressing news, I presume you heard that Shacklebolt was my visitor?"

Hermione nodded.

"Let me firstly congratulate you on your restraint in not joining us, I am not sure what my explanation would have been for having you in my chambers, undressed, at this hour of the morning."

"It was difficult," she admitted, and he shot her an amused glare.

"This is what has been discussed thus far. The most positive news is that Shacklebolt has been successful in securing the post of department head for Magical Law Enforcement since Yaxley's … enforced retirement. This is a tremendous coup for the Order, having a member in such a high-ranking position, and he now has to work hard to enable the Ministry to destroy itself, from the inside out."

"But, how can Kingsley do that?"

"There are many workers within the Ministry who are still loyal to the Light, however deeply they must hide it. There are far more who desire peace and tolerance, than those who uphold the Dark Lord's ideals. Unfortunately, whilst Death Eaters, pureblood supremacists and followers of the Dark are lower in number, they are loud, and they are mighty. They feed on the fears of others, and are too keen to resort to methods of war – to intimidate, to oppress and to assume command.

Shacklebolt's job is to identify and recruit … the others. Those normal witches and wizards who desire only a peaceful world in which to raise their families, a tolerant society; where magical beings of all bloods are equal, and where due respect is shown to Muggles and to the International Statute of Secrecy, and the abuse of the non-magical is abhorrent. If they are there, and we are certain they are, he will find them.

Once the numbers are great enough, and their bravery procured, a coup can be staged from the inside, married up with anything else we have planned, not least, the taking and complete destruction of the broken Horcruxes kept at Gringotts, and an assassination of the Dark Lord himself, for at present, he is fully mortal."

"Wow."

"Indeed. However, this is not the only news that Shacklebolt came to impart, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"The Auror Office has been forced to work alongside the Snatchers in rounding up all the werewolves, under the culling legislation put in force by Umbridge. Now, when it comes to heinous creatures such as Fenrir Greyback, I should say that the law has worked very well indeed. However, we both know that there are a great many lycanthropes who were afflicted through no fault of their own, and simply seek to live a peaceful life, managing their devastating condition the best they can."

"And?" Hermione asked, impatiently, desperate for Snape to get to the point, as she was beginning to feel a cold dread in the very pit of her stomach.

"Shacklebolt's first task as department Head, was to invade the home of Andromeda Tonks, in order to search for the Lupin baby, who is proven to have half-lycanthropic blood."

"No!"

Her hands flew to her mouth in shock. What could they want with Teddy? He was just a baby, no threat to anyone.

"It was a poorly-veiled attempt to discover the whereabouts of the child's father. It is believed that Madam Tonks is concealing Remus Lupin, as well as caring for the infant of her deceased daughter. The purpose of the raid was to search the house from top to bottom, looking for any sign of Lupin, who was first on the list of werewolves to cull, and yet despite many being captured, he still eludes them. Obviously, we know why that is, but the Ministry do not."

"So, what happened? Did Kingsley manage to halt the raid?"

Snape shook his head, and her eyes widened in alarm.

"I have no doubt that this was a test of Shacklebolt's loyalties by Dolores Umbridge. As loathsome as she may be, she is not a stupid woman. Any reticence on his part to follow her orders would cast doubt on not only his ability to run the department, but also on his political loyalties. He had no choice but to go ahead with the raid. Of course, they found no trace of Lupin or his son, and Shacklebolt managed to prevent the torture of Madam Tonks to disclose their whereabouts by administering her with Veritaserum, so she could prove, under its influence, that she did not know where her son-in-law and grandson were hiding."

"That's something, at least. Did anything else happen, though?"

His already serious face took on a grim expression.

"Shacklebolt could not prevent it."

"What?"

"Madam Tonks has been taken into Ministry custody. No, not Azkaban, but the holding cells below the Auror department. The Death Eaters among the Aurors are not convinced she knows nothing, they believe Lupin may be returning to her regularly for food and shelter, and therefore her removal was justified. They … they also burned her house to the ground, to destroy any magically-concealed hiding places that may have been inside that they did not discover. Their reasoning was that if Lupin was concealed inside, he would have been killed by the fire."

Tears sprang to her ears. Oh, Remus. Oh, poor Andromeda.

"Does Andromeda know that her house was destroyed?"

"That I do not know. But … Lupin must be told of this, and quickly, before he hears it from other sources, such as the vile and salacious Daily Prophet."

"I know," she nodded, sadly. "I'll do it. I'll go and do it now, he will be up and feeding Teddy by this time."

"Good girl," he said, quietly, reaching for her hand, and she took the offered comfort, his large hand warm around hers. "I am confident that you will find the right words, Granger. Your clothes are on that chair, over there, I am afraid they are mixed with mine, for I cast a rather hasty banishing spell when Shacklebolt came through the fireplace."

Hermione gave him a small smile, and he lifted his other hand to cup her face, before threading his fingers in her half-dry hair and stroking the back of her head. Slowly, very slowly, he leaned forwards, and touched his lips to hers in the ghost of a kiss that said more than any words could. It was tentative and beautiful.

"I will go now," she whispered, their lips still close.

He nodded, but said nothing more, releasing her with what seemed like great reluctance.

-xxx-

Orla remained in the kitchen with Remus after Hermione had left the room. Hermione had returned through the Floo as they'd been having breakfast, which was confusing since Orla had presumed that she'd been upstairs in her room, asleep. Remus did not seem surprised by Hermione's arrival, however, in the early morning and definitely wearing the same floral dress she'd had on yesterday. Where had she been, Shell Cottage? That was the only other Secret-Kept place that Orla knew of where it would be safe for Hermione to go.

It had not seemed the moment to ask, though, since Hermione urgently bade them both to be seated as she imparted the news about Andromeda Tonks, the raid on her home and the reasons for it, that Madam Tonks was now in Ministry custody and her house set alight, burned to the ground in an attempt to discover Remus or his son.

The wizard with whom they shared the house sat ashen-faced, disbelieving of the news, not moving even when Hermione closed the heavy door behind her and they heard her ascending the stairs.

Orla relieved him of Teddy, since he looked shocked enough to drop the baby, and he allowed her to take the infant, and also the bottle from his fingers that he'd been feeding him with. Teddy had fallen asleep on the bottle, so she placed him gently in the kitchen cradle and covered him with a light blanket, placing the half-drunk bottle on the table top and stepping cautiously towards Lupin.

She put a hand on his shoulder, and he did not shrug her off. That was a start. There were no words she could say to comfort him, so she did not even try. All she could offer was her proximity, her reassurance that he and Teddy were not alone. Orla felt his shoulder begin to shake under her hand. How long had it been since this man had cried? How long had he been strong, uncomplaining? How long without comfort?

He was grieving the greatest loss a wizard could suffer, that of his wife and the mother of his child, struggling to raise a tiny baby alone whilst living under the constant threat of a discovery that meant a death sentence for both himself and the child.

Orla slid her arm across his back, meaning to embrace his shoulders, but instead he pulled her roughly off her feet and into his lap, burying his head in her chest, weeping openly. Taken aback by the speed of his movement, she slipped both her arms around him and held him tightly, for he was clearly desperate for touch. It broke her heart into a thousand pieces. She rested her cheek on the top of his head, determined that whatever physical comfort she could offer, she would provide.

Remus cried for a long time, and Orla continued to hold him.

As his body began to still and his breaths became more regular, she summoned a handkerchief and slipped it into his hand, rubbing slow circles of reassurance on his back.

"I am so sorry, Orla," he said, at last, looking up at her and finally meeting her eyes. "Andromeda … she did not deserve this. And there is nothing I can do, absolutely nothing."

His face was red and puffy, his eyes bloodshot from the force of his tears. He looked utterly bereft.

"You have not one thing to be sorry for. We live together, and I am here for you, whenever you need me."

Remus shook his head in feeble protest, blowing his nose hard on the handkerchief and scrubbing at his eyes and cheeks with it, wiping a hand through his short sandy moustache and beard.

"I don't know what to say," he began. "You provide me with a comfort that I am intensely grateful for. You take exceptional care of Teddy, and I trust you implicitly with him. You are worth your weight in gold, Orla Roach."

"Orla Malfoy, remember?" she said, regretfully.

"You'll always be Roach the Hufflepuff to me," he replied, quietly, with a sad attempt at a smile.

"Say now, I thought you didn't remember me from school?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to, Professor Lupin. We all know the third-year Gryffindors were more important than the Puffs."

He looked sheepish, but yet she had managed to coax a smile from him, and it seemed that he suddenly realised she was sitting sideways on his lap, and he gently edged her to her feet with yet more apologies for his behaviour.

"Oh, stop. It's fine. Just keep your lap available for when I need a hug, ok?"

"Consider it yours."

"That's good to know. I might need it later, you've remembered I'm seeing my … father again this afternoon? That's enough to piss anyone off."

"I did remember. Is Charlie going with you again?"

"Not this time. I need to do this alone, and I think he might have caused more problems than he solved, last time. He's quite … combative."

"I'm surprised Charlie didn't cut Lucius Malfoy down where he stood, after what happened to his entire family."

Orla blushed, embarrassed at her lack of consideration.

"I didn't … I didn't mean …"

He held up his hands.

"It's fine, I know that. I think you are probably right to go alone. Malfoy will ensure no harm comes to you, he will protect his own."

"He didn't protect Draco too well, did he?"

Now it was Lupin's turn to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry."

"Let's stop apologising to one another," she concluded. "We're on the same side."

"I'll drink to that," he replied, toasting her with Teddy's half-drunk bottle of milk.

"Magical baby formula? That's all you," she grimaced, turning up her nose at the thought of drinking the incredibly sweet powdered milk mix. "Now, I'm going to get showered and dressed. You're ok?"

"As I'll ever be. You go."

She left the room, leaving what looked like a defeated man wearing a tattered old red dressing gown and brown pyjamas sitting staring at the surface of the kitchen table. Her heart broke for him, again.

-xxx-

Severus was at his desk in the headmasters' office, working on actual school administration that had to be completed at the end of each school year, whether the wizarding world was in the grip of war, or not. He had only just reached the end of the first-years, collating their individual lesson reports, signing his approval on each one and deputising a number of elves to the Owlery to deliver the thick scrolls to each child's parents. And he still had the second through seventh years to go.

A short break from the academic tedium would have proved welcome, but the sharp burn of his left forearm that indicated a summons from Voldemort was certainly not the distraction he'd been hoping for.

Fuck.

Pulling his hated Death Eater robes around his shoulders, Snape touched the end of his wand to the Dark Mark, landing not unsurprisingly in the drawing room of the Riddle House.

He was the only one there. This did not bode well.

"Severusss."

"My Lord," he greeted, dropping to one knee and kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes.

"Rise, Severus, for I have a question."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"The Mudblood Granger. She lives."

"I do not know, My Lord."

"That was not my question, Severus. I know that she lives, for the Ministry archives of births and deaths magically record everything, as you know. My question is, how does she live? Under the compulsion curse, she should have been driven to madness by now, and either died or taken her own life. How can it be that the Mudblood slut is still alive?"

"I do not know, My Lord. She is magically powerful, and her residence is Secret-Kept. She must have concealed herself there, and I cannot fathom how she has borne the curse," he lied.

Voldemort stepped towards him, his bare, scaly feet scraping on the rough carpet with a scratchy noise that put Snape's teeth on edge.

"You have not been relieving her?"

"I have not, My Lord," he replied, Occluding hard as he felt the Dark Lord invade his mind, searching for the lie.

Voldemort would find nothing. Severus knew that his skill at Occlumency was unsurpassed, it was what had kept him alive all these years. He'd have been dead years ago, had the Dark Lord even found the slightest hint of his true allegiance with Dumbledore.

"You speak the truth, Severus," he pronounced, at length, pulling out of his mind with a disgusting slither.

"Thank you, My Lord."

"I must find the girl. I want to know how she has been able to divert my curse. There is no way she could suffer this long and still be alive. You saw yourself, right here in my cellar, how … quickly the curse turns nasty, should it not be satisfied."

I certainly did, you psychopathic bastard, he thought, but merely nodded once in agreement.

"Hmmm. Severus, I require you to go to Gringotts for me. Here are the details of my vault, and my magical authorisation to enter it. You are to allow no one inside, not even the goblin who takes you there – he must wait outside the door. Inside my vault you will find a number of objects. All have curses placed upon them, only one of which I will now release. You will find a book, in actuality an old diary that bears my childhood name embossed on the cover. Bring this diary to me, for I require you to assist me in a complicated piece of magic. Go now."

He waved his hand airily at Severus, in dismissal.

So, he was to go and collect the broken shell of the first Horcrux, and return here to assist the Dark Lord in reanimating it, he presumed.

It seemed like the game had begun.

Voldemort would not win, this time. Severus would ensure that the Dark Lord lost, else he would die trying.