Will you be surprised if I tell you that this chapter was vastly improved by JOdel's corrections and suggestions? Of course not.

The wasted years, the wasted youth,

The pretty lies, the ugly truth

(Marina and the Diamonds, Teen Idle)

Ron's reaction, when freed from experiencing first hand the joys of Snape being reunited with Voldemort, was to rush to the bathroom and empty his stomach into the toilet.

When his heaves stopped and he tried to straighten up, he found that his back and all his limbs were stiff and hurt like hell. It took him some time to be able to simply stand up and he painfully made his way back to the sitting room, dragging himself to the sofa with Harry's help when he caught sight of his friend's trembling frame clutching at the furniture.

He was considering asking for Hermione, when Snape fished a vial out of his pocket, measured two stoppers worth in a little water and handed it silently to him.

It tasted so bitter, Ron thought for an alarming second or two that he was going to throw up again, right on the Professor's shoes, but it passed and he started shivering uncontrollably from a feeling of intense cold. He was grateful for the blankets Snape had piled up on the edge of the sofa before the session without telling them why. As soon as he felt that he was finally getting a little warmer, the sensation abruptly turned to an almost unbearable heat and he could not get rid himself of all his wraps and top clothes soon enough, as he was now pouring with sweat.

He did not know it, but he had also turned from an almost deathly pallor to a bright beetroot red. This time, Harry drew his wand to send a Patronus to Hermione but Snape stopped him with a brief gesture and handed Ron one of the terry towels that he had Summoned at the same time as the blankets. It was the only thing that comforted Harry, that Snape knew what to expect.

After several minutes, the sweat stopped, too and, to his considerable surprise, Ron felt not only much better but also totally relaxed.

"Wow! What did you put in that?" he asked, totally mystified. "I'm sure George would love a milder version for the shop!" He took the vial back in his hand to read the label, but it only bore a cryptic 'n° 5'.

Snape smirked. "Just some basic ingredients, since those are all that I am restricted to. Still efficient enough, I think?"

"Yes." Ron exhaled loudly and stretched contentedly, like a cat. "A little drastic, but I won't complain, I have hardly felt better in a long time. Thanks!"

He reached for the jug of cold water Snape had recommended 'for beginners' rather than the hot tea he really longed for or anything stronger.

"What went wrong?" Harry asked, still worrying. It was his fault if Ron had been so eager to try Occlumency with Snape.

"Nothing," Snape assured. "Some people will share not only emotional but some physical transference as well. Auror Weasley is more sensitive to mental encounters than most, it seems."

Ron cried in dismay, "Do you mean that I am like Dawlish with the Confundus? That Yaxley or anyone can break into my mind?"

Snape shook his head. "No, you're one of the few lucky people – or unlucky depending upon one's point of view – who can detect, with very little training, any kind of mental intrusion as soon as it happens." With a quizzical smile, he added, "At least, that is how it worked for me." And waited for the light to strike.

Ron blinked several time before asking, "Are you telling me that I can become as good an Occlumens as you are?" The tone was doubtful, but there was more than just a hint of hope in it, too.

Snape snickered. "Dream, Weasley. Dream..."

Ron turned instantly crestfallen.

"Unless you would be willing to transfer to the Unspeakables?" the older wizard taunted, but the young Auror made a disgusted face and shook his head.

"Then I very much doubt you will ever get as many opportunities to practice as I had between Dumbeldore and Voldemort." Snape's lips twisted in an unpleasant smile. "But I wouldn't wish that kind of training on my worst enemy."

"I guess not," shuddered Ron, remembering Snape's memories.

Snape rose from his seat and went to lean against the mantel, a familiar gesture that gave him the same feeling of control as when he lectured his classes. It enabled him to stand and distance himself while the others looked up to him, and to effectively cut off any kind of commiseration or sentimentality. "I want you to tell me why I chose those particular memories."

It was Ron, again, who answered. The thought that he could actually be gifted in Occlumency was boosting his self-assurance. "To prove that, even at our most helpless, we can always find a way to turn the situation in our favour?"

"Good. And how can you do this?"

"You have to understand your foe better than they understand you."

Snape nodded in approval and, ever the teacher, turned to Harry for the next question.

"What was the difference between the memory with Yaxley and the memory with Voldemort?"

Harry blinked owlishly for a second, as he always did when suddenly challenged. "You did not try to change Voldemort's thoughts, like Yaxley tried to do with you."

"I used the same kind of mental projection as Yaxley," Snape objected. "What was the difference?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "You could feel Yaxley coming a mile off, with his ridiculous ideas."

"And yet, people have ridiculous ideas or seemingly blinding revelations all the time, without being under influence. Just because something ludicrous comes to mind doesn't mean a Legilimens is on the prowl to get you."

"You were expecting Yaxley's attack."

Snape looked heavenward. "Of course, I was," he said sarcastically. "I expected Voldemort's, too, in case you didn't notice."

This made Ron laugh into his sleeve.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "All right, that was pretty lame… But really, I don't see much difference between them. They both acted like brutes and went straight to what they wanted. It was no surprise with Voldemort, but Corban Yaxley was supposed to care about you."

"I'm not surprised," Ron cut in. "Remember the stats Proudfoot showed us? There have been more complaints and enquiries about mental manipulation in the family and private sphere than in business over the last fifteen years."

"Because it is much easier to manipulate people who trust you," Snape commented cynically. "Still, a lot of people have used that as an excuse, along with real or supposed attempts at Imperio when accused of collaborating with the Death Eaters."

"Yeah, like bloody Lucius Malfoy!" Ron blurted. He had always heard his father scoff when speaking of Malfoy, who could corrupt the whole Wizengamot whenever he wanted to… But as soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered that he was not home amongst other like-minded Weasleys and found himself pinned under one of Snape's furious glares.

"In Lucius's shoes you would have been glad to find any excuse to escape Azkaban and the 'special' care of Mad-Eye Moody."

Ron stood up, indignant. "Don't say anything against Moody! He at least fought on the right side!"

Snape stepped up until they were almost nose to nose. The fact that Ron was almost a head taller, much healthier, with broad athletic shoulders did not make the Professor look any less threatening.

"Oh! But we are indebted to him," Snape whispered dangerously, "Since he was also the means of Lucius's exoneration."

Ron blinked, confused.

Harry, who had meant to interpose between the two wizards, waited with a sinking feeling. Thanks to Kingsley Shacklebolt, he knew more than he wished, and than Ron had ever heard, about the darker days of the Aurory.

Snape's aggressive bark surprised them both, even if he was still looking fixedly at Ron. "A medical expert can detect it if someone fakes the after-effects of Imperio, right?"

Ron, who had taken two steps to the side while trying not to look like he was backing down, nodded crisply.

"No less than three St Mungo's Healers certified, after examining Lucius in 1982, that he had been Imperioed and Crucioed several times." Snape paused, looking daggers at both Aurors. "You know as well as I do that Lucius was not Imperioed into becoming a Death Eater. I can also attest that he was never in a situation, during the first war, to bring unto himself Voldemort's or any of his Death Eaters's wrath." He let it sink, before asking, almost suavely, to a troubled Ron, "So when and how do you think he was subjected to Unforgivables?"

The youngest Weasley faltered out, "Are you implying that Moody-"

"I am implying nothing. I claim it." Snape turned round unexpectedly, and went back to the mantel, idly taking the clock in his hands and examining it as if it particularly offended him.

Ron exhaled loudly and sat back down, his knees trembling at the revelation. He caught Harry's eyes. His friend made a face at his mute question and nodded unhappily.

Aggrieved, the redhead grabbed a cushion and held it in his lap, as some kind of protection. He stared at his shoes, unable to face Snape and cursing his own gullibility.

Of course, he had heard rumours, but the official position of the Aurory about the treatment of opponents and suspects under Barty Crouch's rule was a firm and constant denial of anything other than "regrettable but isolated incidents".

He had been willing to believe it, because he did not want to think that people he knew or admired could have been part of it. For God's sake, Harry's father, Sirius, and Neville's parents had been Aurors! And many people he liked very much, like Tonks and Kingsley, and the other Aurors in the Order... If some unknown and unnamed colleagues had ever blundered, they certainly had excuses when dealing with evil, murderous Death Eaters.

But he had just watched Head Auror Scrimgeour himself supervising Snape's torture session. It was distressing enough, coming from the top, but they had never trusted nor even liked the ambitious wizard, and he had not been an Order member.

Moody on the other hand… He had de facto become the new head of the Order of the Phoenix after Dumbledore's death. The idea that he was… That he could… It didn't bear thinking of!

Unbidden, another memory surfaced. Snape repeating, back when he was still trying to convince Harry that he was not worth their efforts to save him, that they should desist or his trial would dig up unexpected dirt and that a lot of people would be hurt by the rippling effects, themselves included.

Well, they'd certainly got there.

How naive he had been when he had cockily supported Harry, certainly not for Snape's sake at the time, but to show him that they were up to anything, including having him cleared.

Snape setting the clock back with a little too much force made him jump. "Moody never deigned interrogate me himself when I was arrested, probably in order to be able to tell Dumbledore that his hands were clean where I was concerned," he said sharply, "But he transferred all of the attention he was unable to pay me to Lucius… With Scrimgeour's benediction!"

It was clear his anger was not solely directed at Alastor Moody or Rufus Scrimgeour. The glint in his eyes looked suspiciously like guilt.

Ron felt guilty himself that he had once again forgotten how close Snape was to Lucius Malfoy and made light of his feelings when he railed the blond wizard.

Circumspectly, he began, "Look, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"

Snape cut him off coldly. "Water under the bridge, Weasley. We have more pressing matters to consider. We were speaking of Corban Yaxley's strategy. Potter, how would you analyse it?"

"He acted according to what he thought you were," Harry said, almost standing at attention and careful not to say anything wrong. "Not on what you actually are."

"He's clever but blinded by prejudice and pride," Ron added, just as anxious as Harry to take Snape's mind – and his own – from the darker days of the Ministry.

The Professor nodded approvingly. "I wanted you to see that, even when he finally decided to follow his supposed feelings for me, he could only try to control and dominate. You saw how he always needed to be right, even at the cost of contradicting me in front of Voldemort."

"I don't wish the Cruciatus on anyone," Ron said with disgust, "But I couldn't help hoping Voldemort would bring him down a peg or two."

Snape snickered viciously. "It happened."

"Good."

"But remember that his tactic was very effective," Snape insisted. "Of course, at the Ministry he dealt with a lot of people who were pretty shallow or single-minded about their careers. They were easy prey and, somehow, spoilt him. He had a hard time figuring out that it is much more difficult with people who have strong convictions or personalities and he generally lost patience."

He made a derisive gesture. "That's Corban for you. To go straight to what he wants you to feel or believe and turn violent if it doesn't work." He snorted. "Just consider; he worked with Pius Thicknesse for months before he was ordered to make a move. He could have taken the time to discuss policies with Pius, try to befriend him… Sound him out… Find subtle ways to influence him when the time was right, but no! When he saw that he got nowhere with his usual tactic, he just decided to Imperio him."

"Still, it was no mean feat."

"But what a waste of time and magical energy! If the Ministry had not fallen so soon after, Corban could never have been able to carry it off in the long run."

The last words were said in a disgusted tone attesting that Snape was still unable to understand how anyone could be so brilliant and so thick at the same time – but then, it was a good description of most high ranking Death Eaters and of their Lord, wasn't it?

"It's a chance for us, isn't it?" Ron asked.

"Undoubtedly." Snape pointed derisively at the Pensieve. "After all, dealing with a ruthless Legilimens is very much like the poorer sort of sexual relationship, and requires more good timing and cleverness than actual skills."

Harry, who had been innocently sipping water, sprayed it all over his clothes in shock. "What? I didn't see or feel anything of the sort!" he protested, heat colouring his cheeks.

Ron coughed, not faring much better. "Neither did I."

Snape's lips drew back in a snarl. "What are you," he snapped, "Aurors or blushing teens who take everything literally? What did your Occlumency instructors teach you?!"

Harry caught Ron's eye. They shared the same dubious grimace and shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

Snape's upper lip curled unpleasantly. "On reflection, don't tell me. Considering how they failed with you," he told Harry before turning and pointing his chin at Ron, "And didn't spot your potential, I prefer not to know. Once again, it falls to me to spell things out to you."

He took a few sips of his forgotten glass of whiskey, with little pleasure the way he grimaced, but it may also have been at the thought of the Ministry's ineptitude.

"It's no secret that Voldemort despised women and considered them both weaker and naturally inferior," he said, looking intently from Harry to Ron. "Even Bellatrix Lestrange, who was possibly the only person who ever aroused any feelings in him, could rarely hope that he would value her wishes and opinions."

He paused, prompting them with his chin to tell if they were following him. They nodded sheepishly.

Harry said tentatively, "Dumbledore showed me his first meeting with Tom at the orphanage. He was convinced his mother could not have been a witch since she died and left him alone there. That might explain it."

"Possibly, but in spite of all his fine words, he also despised the rest of the world in general, magical or not, including his so-called 'beloved' Death Eaters."

He made another pause and glared until they nodded again.

"Everything had to be an act of domination or a demonstration of power with him. I don't think you missed that part in both memories?"

"He was clearly enjoying the brutality," agreed Ron with the same grimace of repulsion as Harry.

"Not so much the violence as the domination. Hence the reference to sex. Like many men, he considered that a male is made to dominate and a female to be dominated." Once again, he searched their face for proof of their (blushing) understanding before going on. "What did I do to gain his trust back?"

"Errr…" The young wizards traded helpless looks, unable to remember anything in the way Snape acted that looked even remotely sexy to them, either with Voldemort or with Yaxley.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and let loose another exasperated sigh, before straightening up in a familiar teaching stance. "Do you think that I acted differently with each of them?"

"No," Ron said emphatically.

"You let them both believe they had won," Harry added.

Snape immediately pointed at Harry, "So, try again and define Yaxley's style of Legilimency."

"He… Err… He tried to make you see him as someone sweet and likeable."

"But was he actually 'sweet'?"

Harry made a face. "He used suggestion instead of torture, but I don't see much difference from Voldemort."

"Because there wasn't," Snape confirmed. "Corban is an aggressor. He is able to influence people because he generally catches them unawares. He is clever enough, or lucky enough, to guess the weakness, the prejudice that makes most people tick. It doesn't work with people who are too complex for him to understand. Since I only allowed him to see what I wanted him to see, he did not know me as he thought he did. That's the reason why there was always something off about his suggestions and you could spot them easily."

"Yeah..." Ron said pensively. "But do you think we'll be up to detecting his attacks?"

"You will if you pay attention. He will hit when you are tired or overexcited, because your feelings will be easier to read on your face and because you are more likely to have preconceived ideas coming to your mind. Idle and angry thoughts can be quickly twisted into something unreasonable. Beware of them."

"Constant vigilance!" blurted Ron.

He reddened when he realised it may not be a good idea to quote Mad-Eye Moody so soon after Snape's revelations, but the man approved heartily. "Exactly!"

"Still, I'm relieved we'll be able to use a little liquid luck, because I think I'll need all the help I can get."

Harry, who had felt left out with Ron so surprisingly taken up with mind magic, perked up at the mention of Felix Felicis, even if they would have to take turns drinking it to avoid the rapid addiction and turn-about effects.

"Our one true piece of luck," Snape told them sternly, with the disdain of one who had always counted on his own wits rather than on magical recipes, "Is that Corban Yaxley doesn't seem to have changed a bit, as proved by his Christmas present. The whole scheme is probably more to score points against me than any serious attempt to regain power."

"Kingsley is positive that, in the long run, it can only be a last-ditch struggle," Harry added. "Even the most hardened supporters of Pureblood supremacy are relieved to be rid of the Death Eaters."

"Relieved to be rid of Voldemort, I can believe," Snape countered cynically. "But the network and influence of the Brotherhood reached very far and touched a lot of families. Family loyalty must never be underestimated."

"Yes, but helping a fugitive Death Eater is taking a really big risk. The families of Death Eaters know they are under watch."

"Under watch..." Snape's voice trailed cynically. "Yes, I heard wand Traces have been liberally and very democratically bestowed by the Ministry."

"For just that kind of emergency," Harry said rather defiantly.

"I am familiar with the concept," the older wizard sneered. "'You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.' What I am afraid of, is the Ministry's propensity to break eggs without making anything."

Harry grinned a painful grin, that told just what Snape thought. The wand Traces had not lead to much so far, although Seamus was still discreetly investigating the order to put one on Rita Skeeter.

"Many influential people are still trying to restore their good name and would be wary of helping even family members," Ron said pensively, his fingers slipping over the coffee table as he spoke, an unconscious gesture he generally made when considering strategies on the chess board. "Yaxley cannot move overtly, even if he has a little band of Death Eaters to help. The need for caution means that there must be many loose ends in their planning."

"But desperate people will do desperate things," Snape warned, always distrustful of optimism. "As will fanatics, and any runaway Death Eater will be both. If Corban's goal is merely to get his revenge on me, it should not be that difficult to achieve."

"At least, we know that if we suddenly have weird ideas or impulses, we must check around," Harry said, with more outward confidence than he really felt, but he was decided not to give Severus any reason to worry that there were flaws in the security, or to doubt that they would go to any length to see him vindicated. "The tricky part," he conceded, "Is that we will have our hands full with the public and all the media. I don't mind using everything we have, and Felix is a decided advantage."

Ron wrinkled his brow. "I understand that, when we spot Yaxley's manipulations, we must play along and lure him into believing he has succeeded, but what if he worms his way in our mind while we're busy and we notice it too late? If he controls us?"

Harry stopped to breathe. Ron had just said aloud what he had been thinking.

Snape leaned forward, piercing each one in turn with his stern gaze. "Short of the Imperius, that he could not use very long, you will do what I did with Voldemort. This is why I showed you the other memory."

"Errr…"

"What do you mean, exactly?"

Snape briefly closed his eyes and pursed his lips in a thin line just as they expected, in the familiar gesture he used in class and which meant "Give me strength with these dunderheads !", but they could not help it. It was much too different from what they had done with their Ministry instructors.

"If you face a sadist who wants to break your mind and manages to overpower or surprise you, you choose the moment to break." It sounded more like a command than a piece of advice.

"Pretend to put up a fight," he went on, getting warmed up, "Because they will expect it. Present them with big but flawed defences. It will make them feel powerful and more clever than you are. Drag things out if you can, because it will be more plausible and then… Break!" he ordered, thumping his fist on the armrest for good measure. "Break with as much drama as possible. Give them what they seek," he insisted even more harshly. "Act like you cannot resist anymore… Like a woman faking an orgasm... They will not question their victory if it doesn't look easy."

Harry paled. "Women can do that?" he breathed, horrified.

Snape covered his eyes with a hand even as he growled in frustration. "Is that the only thing that grabs your attention?!"

Harry went from pale to crimson, as surely as if he had been fed some n°5 potion. "Of course not, but… Can they really… You know?" he asked, clearly upset.

Snape noted that Weasley looked like he was very interested with the answer, too, even if he tried not to be so obvious.

Snape sighed inwardly. He had no time to deal with that now, even if he had done it often enough when he was Head of House.

"Yes," he answered with a pitying look. "They can do that. When you're clumsy or selfish in bed, or because they are too tired, or not in the mood and want it to end quickly… It doesn't mean that they don't love you, but the idea is to make you feel good to get rid of you as soon as possible," he explained kindly before instantly returning to the matter at hand with a warning glare that said not to tax his patience again. "And that's what you do with a Legilimens who will act like a rapist, hence the analogy. Present them with enough resistance to be credible, lure them into believing they control the situation and then, allow them to see just what you want them to see."

"But how can you tell that she's faking-"

"That's a discussion for another time, Potter!" Snape snapped, more harshly than he had meant. (Lucius's words when he persuaded him to give 'The Talk' to Draco came to his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. "You'll see it's much more difficult when it is your own child.")

(Bloody hell! He was not Harry's father.)

He was grateful to see Ronald put a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him from making a fool of himself.

"Harry," Ron whispered through clenched teeth, "Later."

Unfortunately, Harry did not seem willing to listen to either of them, after such a life-changing revelation, but kept opening and closing his mouth, just as unable to voice his fear as to let go.

Ron added savagely, before realising what he was saying, "Just ask Ginny!"

Harry cringed and practically shrunk before their eyes.

Ron shuddered, wishing that he could Obliviate himself and stop wondering about his little sister's possible use of unfair feminine wiles and about her sex life with his best friend.

Snape was muttering under his breath.

Ron could make out a few furious words, 'Kingsley', 'piece of my mind', 'recruiting kids' and 'the facts of life!'

He was rather upset by Snape's apparent estimation of their maturity. He did not dare protest, though, because he was not so sure, after another surreptitious glance at Harry who had closed up like a clam and seemed to be in a sad world of his own, that the Professor was wrong where his friend was concerned.

Snape was going on, as if he had not been interrupted, but his narrowed eyes watched them closely to make sure they were actually listening. "It is like most skills," he insisted, modulating his voice in ways, he knew from experience, would catch a wandering mind. "It comes very easily to some gifted individuals, who will excel easily, but most people can perform decently if they only deign to apply themselves. Except they usually don't, out of ignorance and laziness." The ex-spy pursed his lips in clear disapproval before conceding, "If you were hopeless, I would not waste my time trying to teach you."

"And we do thank you, sir," Ron hastened to say, to placate him. At the same time, he was giving Harry a dig in the ribs to prod him into saying something.

Harry vaguely nodded and it fell to Ron to ask, "What about you? You're under Healer's order not to Occlude. Will you be able to protect yourself properly, if Yaxley is at the Ministry?"

This had at least the effect of making Harry pull himself together and make him worry about Snape once again, and not about his own insecurities and fear that he could never be enough for Ginny.

(Not that he really believed it, of course, because they loved each other, but… But.)

"Brush against my mind and the defences raise up instantly, in sheer reflex," Snape admitted. "All Constanz asks is for me not to Occlude pre-emptively. Beyond that..." He made a fatalistic gesture. "Any more question?"

Harry forced himself to answer. "None that I can think about, right now."

"Same here," answered Ron. "But I'm sure I'll have some later."

"Take the time to think it over, that's all I ask. Just remember that the day after tomorrow, I won't be able to help you anymore." With these words, Snape sat down, or rather let himself fall, into his armchair. The magical drain and worry were finally catching up.

Both Aurors made unhappy faces. Hermione had been very vocal about not allowing Snape to over-tire himself but he managed every time to bluff them into believing he was all right when he chose to.

The wizard himself pulled out the same vial of potion he had administered to Ron, measured the content of one stopper in a glass of water. He drank it, wrapped himself in one of the blankets and closed his eyes. As the Aurors stood and tip-toed to the kitchen to give him privacy, Snape's voice stopped them.

"Healer Granger already knows most of this through her work with Constanz," he said in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "There is no need to burden her with-" He bit his lip, possibly because of the shivers. "I forbid you to tell her anything, beyond my giving you tricks to deal with Corban Yaxley."

They hastened to say they would keep everything between them, not only because Snape wanted it, but because they did not want to remind Hermione in any way of her own physical ordeals by mentioning his.

While they were helping themselves in the kitchen, careful not to speak about anything but food and Quidditch – the safest topics, Moppy and Fuzzy popped in together in front of Snape, obviously upset.

"The portrait of Headmaster Black woke up, and Headmistress Derwent is with him," Moppy explained nervously. "He's ordered Moppy to call Master at once, but-" She turned to her mate, who was fidgeting beside her.

"The Headmistress is telling Fuzzy not now!" he cried.

"And Headmaster Black is shouting to Moppy that Master must be told about that sorry mess immediately."

"But the Headmistress is telling No! No! to Fuzzy and stomping her foot, and they is quarrelling."

"We is not knowing what to do," they concluded together, their unusual relapse into Elven English vernacular proving the extent of their distress.

"What have they done now?" Snape groused, even as he was towelling his neck and chest to get rid of the sweat and making his way to the bathroom for a change of clothes. "Moppy, tell them I am busy and will go up in a few minutes, but don't waste time listening to their rubbish."

§§§

Minerva gave up all pretence of amiability. She discarded her teacup and braced her hands on her armrests, leaning forward with threatening intent. Confined within his frame, Dumbledore's eyes followed each move carefully, but he otherwise remained stoic.

"You know as well as I do that you were nothing but a manipulative, moral coward, who made others fight his battles whenever possible."

His usual cheerfulness much toned down, Dumbledore managed a self-deprecating smile. "I see that between you and Hermione Granger, I have little chance to keep a shred of my self-esteem today."

She scoffed. "Don't worry. I am sure that by tomorrow you will have convinced yourself once again that you only acted for the greater good and have nothing to feel guilty about."

"I would not go that far, even if you write me down as a hypocrite."

"Hypocrite? No." She snickered unpleasantly. "A self-deceiver, more like. You've always been very skilful when it comes to bending your own ethics and finding perfectly good reasons why it doesn't compromise your integrity."

"I will admit some cowardice when it comes to facing my own feelings," he said softly, with a cheering smile, as if he was speaking to sooth a wild, unpredictable animal – but his eyes bore into her, as shrewd as ever. "Particularly with Severus… This is all about Severus, isn't it? You step up to defend him as fervently as ever."

"Someone needs to do it."

"Healer Granger told me the same thing." He paused infinitesimally as if to gauge her reaction – there was none – before going on with a widening smile, "He doesn't lack supporters, it seems. Not that I am surprised."

Her eyes hardened as she took in the return to his congenial persona. "No thanks to you. I have followed you and obeyed you in all things, even in the face of my own misgivings, because I believed that you knew what you were doing… Even where Harry was concerned, may the Lord forgive me for that."

"I know."

She snorted. "What do you know?"

"That you had great misgivings about leaving him with his relatives," he sighed, "And that you never called me Albus again afterwards."

"I didn't think that you would ever notice," she said with all the bitterness of accumulated rancour. "You were a great leader, Dumbledore, but a heart of stone."

"It was the best solution, Minerva."

"Excuse me for believing that there must be better solutions than abandoning children to their fate with people who do not care for them, cross your fingers and hope for the best," she said tartly. "Riddle, Severus, Harry… Do you still believe that what they endured was worth the result?"

"Do not put Tom Riddle's deviancy and fascination for the Dark at my feet, please. I may be responsible for not seeing through him sooner, although I don't think he would have had much of a chance of becoming Voldemort if we had not first dealt with Grindelwald."

"I maintain there must have been something that could have been done to help," she said with chilling disapprobation. "I never could trust you fully about the morality of what you asked Severus to do and I was proved right more often than I wished to be, but I wanted to believe that you saw the whole picture. I let you both fool me into believing he was a murderer… And I know that was all your doing, so not a word about Severus's responsibility!" she said, swaying her wand in a careless, rather alarming way, considering the little sparks randomly spurting from the tip.

"I would not dare," Dumbledore said, pretty cool for someone who watched her moves as if he was readying to duck any time. "It was indeed all my doing, but it was crucial that nobody could suspect he was not what he pretended to be."

She crossed her arms and glared. "Not to me, Dumbledore."

"What can you mean, Minerva?" he asked affably.

"That you can't hoax me anymore into believing that tripe about absolute secrecy… You made it needlessly hard for him and this time, I will know the reason why!"

"I already told you several times," he said patiently. "I discussed it with Severus, who is the party concerned. He accepted my arguments and agreed to do what I asked him. You may not accept our reasons, but it does not concern you."

"Yes! It does! I loved him! How could you do that to us?"

"But this is touching, Minerva. After all the times you told him it was not love, have you changed your mind?"

"Who told you that?!" she breathed, troubled that he would know about the way she always pretended that things were not as serious as they were with Severus, because she could not believe it was going to last. There was only one person she had discussed it with, and it was...

"Severus," he said without looking her in the face, as he was apparently very busy, once again, selecting a sherbet lemon. "I remember very well that it was somewhat of a mantra with him in the end. That what little misguided 'affection' you might still feel for him was bound to quickly die down and that, at least, he would not carry the added burden of leaving anyone behind who would regret him, apart from his house elf."

Minerva trembled with fury and grief and the knuckles on her wand hand whitened and curled even tighter, but he still conveniently did not see it, as he finally helped himself to one of his sweets.

He doesn't even have the decency to try another tactic, she thought before exploding, "He was attempting to convince himself, and I am absolutely sure that it was only because you nagged and nagged until he consented. Playing him like that! You are absolutely contemptible! I may still decide to sharpen my claws on you."

He sucked his sweet once or twice with furrowed eyebrows, as if he was disappointed with the taste. "Minerva, we already had this discussion. Countless times."

"And you never told me half of what you've just told Hermione Granger!" she shouted before lashing her wand wordlessly. "You have worn my patience out!"

His portrait began to pitch dangerously from side to side, propelling the Headmaster out of his seat and head first against the frame. He managed to clung to a painted bookshelf as the frame acted like a ship dancing on top of high waves.

"Minerva!" he called out, when the bookshelf threatened to topple on him.

Another wand move and the frame stopped moving, although it was now hanging sideways.

"Oooh!" lamented Dumbledore. With grim satisfaction, Minerva watched him go down on all fours to pick up his scattered sweets and put them back in their box. He blew several times over the surface, in an attempt to clean them and picked another one.

"The last weeks before your death," she said in a low but clear, accusing voice, "You spent nearly all your time clapped up in your office, seeing practically no one except Harry and Severus."

He could not decently avoid to looking at her anymore. He did not smile this time.

Her voice rose, as she listed all her grievances. "You foisted all the running of the school onto me. Which was hardly new, of course, but never for so long and with so little help or information. That just demonstrates how little you trusted me, or the rest of the Order with anything beyond the mundane. Harry was permanently on edge, distracted, aggressive…" she went on. "I had been hopeful at first, when you told me that he would have special sessions with you, that you were at last trying to mentor and help him, but he came back each time even more single-minded and disinterested in his classes, and ready to drop everything at your command! The only thing he can be grateful for, when you died, is that it at least spared him failing most of his exams." She glared so ferociously when he opened his mouth to answer that he deemed more prudent not to say anything.

He could not help seeing that she was tougher than Hermione Granger, although he had no doubt the young healer would soon grow to be just as formidable.

"As if that was not cruel enough, you made him watch Severus kill you!" Her eyes flooded with tears but she went on with the same icy determination, "And Severus… He carried on as usual in public, but behind closed doors… Oh! He would not tell me what was going on, of course… But he seldom ate or slept anymore. I was worrying myself sick about him, and about Harry… And YOU DID NOT CARE!" she shouted, before inclining her head and breathing hard to try to calm down.

"Things were hard on everyone," Dumbledore said softly, in an apologetic tone of voice. "Time was slipping through my fingers. Too much to do, too little time. There was no room to coddle anyone."

"Coddle? CODDLE?! YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A WIZARD!" she shouted. "You were grooming a teenager for martyrdom, for God's sake! And killing any hope in Severus! You destroyed him as surely and much more painfully than he killed you! When I think that I grieved for you!" She screamed, "I GRIEVED FOR YOU! AND YOU DIDN'T DESERVE IT!"

Alarming growling noises came from her throat and her hands lashed out in front of her, as if her Animagus was trying to take over as the Headmaster's portrait clucked several times soothingly, "There, there, Minerva!"

When she could speak again, she snarled, "Don't 'Minerva' me!".

So, he just sat there, stiff as a board, but his eyes… His eyes!

After what seemed an interminable silence, he said in a low, beseeching voice, "We were losing the war. You know we were."

They gazed at each other without a word, because she unfortunately had to admit he was right on the facts, if not on the method.

He made the mistake of letting his jaw slightly relax and realised at once his error. Her face clouded over as she instantly was reminded how often he had played her until she relented.

"When Harry told me you were dead," she said with awful calm, taking turns in the room, "And that it was Severus who killed you, I was stunned but immediately thought that it was grief and his dislike of Severus speaking… That there had to be a mistake or a logical explanation. At first, I thought that your corpse was a fake, some elaborate ruse between you two. Poppy assured me that it could not be. So, I began to wait. I waited for Severus or an envoy of yours to tell me what was truly happening, to give me a letter… A sign… Something to understand and know how to go on. I waited, and waited and when nothing came, I waited again, this time for your portrait to wake up."

She chuckled bitterly at her own naivety. "I should have wondered when you so conveniently woke up as soon as Severus took possession of this office. You never made a move to visit, so I came to believe that he even kept you prisoner in your frame. By then, I hated him for what he had done to you and to everything we believed in. For your sake," she persisted almost hysterically, "I hated him. Him!"

"Minerva," Dumbledore said in a pained voice, "You did not hate him. You hated what he did and what he pretended to represent, but you did not hate him."

"You're wrong, Dumbledore. I did hate him. Have you never heard? I tried to kill him."

"Minerva… Why do you do this to yourself?" he said softly.

"I tried to kill him," she repeated louder, pinning him with eyes so full of burning hurt, the unflappable wizard felt the need to look down.

"I don't think I will ever be able to forgive you for that," she added.

"I daresay I deserve it, even if you are probably as angry with yourself as you are with me. I am truly sorry, Minerva," he said, but she huffed and turned her back to him, before remembering that she was the Head now and he no more than a painting.

Dumbledore went on, "You know, if you are honest with yourself that, had Severus shared the truth with you, you would have been his weak point."

"I would also have been the comfort and the support he desperately needed," she insisted.

"He could not afford to have you on his side," he countered firmly. "He could not afford to tell anyone who was not as good an Occlumens as he is, and you know as well as I do that you're certainly not one. It is very much to your credit, but you are not even capable of lying properly. With the Carrows roaming all over the school and spying on everything Severus did, sooner or later, you would have been the death of him, literally!"

"We were together for years," she reminded him. "Nobody knew, apart you, and you only found out because you took to monitoring the Floos in the few months before Harry Potter attended Hogwarts. We could have kept it a secret!"

He shook his head with regret. "I am very much afraid that quite a lot of people knew, Minerva."

"Who?" she asked, unconvinced.

"The portrait of Maximus Malfoy in Severus's chambers discussed the two of you with Abraxas and Phineas. In all fairness, I must say that they kept it between themselves until I discovered the truth of the matter, but after that, Abraxas thought it did not matter if he told the great Lilian. Phineas told Dilys, and between these two, I don't think there is a single portrait at Hogwarts who failed to hear about it. You should be grateful that I forbade them all to spread the news to any living person or to any other portrait outside the school. There was also the Bloody Baron and Nearly-Headless Nick, that you yourselves let in on your secret so that they could summon either of you when you were in the other's chambers."

"Portraits and ghosts, who are bound to obey the Headmaster."

"Argus Filch," countered Dumbledore.

"Argus?" she asked, quite dismayed. "He knew?"

"Argus drew his own conclusions after meeting you a little too often in deserted corridors. Besides, portraits and ghosts treat him as one of them. He's up to most of the secrets of this school. He found you two a little scandalous, but you know he has a soft spot for Severus..."

"Yes," she said bitterly, "Fellow feelings between people who know what it is to be bullied and despised."

Dumbledore closed his mouth rather abruptly – he did not want to go that road with Minerva if he could avoid it, particularly when he was consigned in this frame and she was still mad enough to hex it.

He cleared his throat before going on, almost apologetically, "There is also Hagrid."

"Hagrid!" This time, she clutched her chest in belated fright. Hagrid-I-Should-Not-Have-Told-You-That. Oh! Lord!

"Yes," he said, nodding several times as her rounded eyes betrayed her dismay. "I fear you were not as discreet as you thought when you walked to the Forbidden Forest to be alone together... You can be thankful that our Rubeus is such a sentimental fellow and would cut his own tongue before betraying a pair of lovers and causing them grief."

He diplomatically spent even more time than usual fiddling with his box of sweets. "So, I am very much afraid there was no other choice than to let you believe the worst of Severus. He hesitated for a long time, but was the first to recognise that he could not have you risk his mission and everything we sacrificed for…"

Minerva interrupted. "I understand it may not have seemed to you the wisest choice, but I am still convinced we all would have fared better with a little more hope to cling to. Besides, I was entitled to know, and to choose, even if it meant Obliviating me afterwards. It would have been more respectful and humane than what you made us suffer."

"And how can you be so sure that you have not been Obliviated?" Dumbledore asked.

"What?"

"Yes, how would you know, since you cannot remember?"

"I..." she hesitated briefly, before taking a deep breath and saying firmly, "You did not."

"No?"

"No."

The Headmaster chuckled. "Indeed, we did not. You are right."

"There is no occasion for you to be so cheerful," she said sharply, making his smile fade. "Knowing Severus, when Hermione Granger shows him the blood vial and portrait order, he will immediately understand that you wanted to keep him under your thumb. He has always been your greatest temptation."

"What temptation do you speak about?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

She smiled – an unpleasant, predatory smile. "Why, the temptation of Pygmalion, of course."

"This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" Her expression hardened. "We both know parents who are very possessive and want to control their children's life. They need to mould them according to their own wishes and expectations. You say you care, but certainly not for his own sake."

"I had Severus best interest at heart."

"I didn't know that becoming a portrait came with such a bad case of selective memory," she said coldly. "I have certainly never seen you accept Severus for what he is. When he was our student, you treated him with, at best, total indifference and more often than not with a suspicion bordering on hostility. There has always been something in Severus that made you treat him differently."

Dumbledore only gave her a disappointed look, which in her experience proved she had hit home. "You, on the other hand, always took an inordinate interest in him."

"Because you did nothing but pretend that things were all right or that everything was his fault."

"Now! Minerva! I never said that."

"You said it with your actions."

He sighed. "I regret that that was the impression I may have created."

She smiled sourly. "When you first recruited him, that did not go so well either, in spite of all your smiles and assurances that he was the perfect choice… When I remember you had the nerve to foist the task of bringing him up to scratch onto Filius, Pomona, and me! It was so obvious that he was not teaching material and much too young. I can't say I liked him very much, at the time," she said wistfully, before adding honestly, "He was so curt, you had to drag every bit of information out of him, and he was quite pretentious at times."

"Are you sure he has changed?" Dumbledore asked with an amused smile.

He surprised a cackle out of her. "You're right… But don't think you can change the subject… Because it's what made me realise that things were not as they appeared to be."

"Because he was curt and closed-mouthed?"

"Because you always overlooked his insolence and the way he overtly defied you. You have never let anyone else get away with one tenth of that kind of provocation, and certainly not him when he was a student."

"Minerva," the old wizard chuckled with fond indulgence, "You have not had yet the opportunity to hire a former student. I guarantee you will find that the relationship will be entirely different."

"When he was arrested," she went on as if she had not heard, "You abandoned everything to besiege the Ministry in his favour."

"I hope you did not think me so callous that I would not speak up for someone who risked his life for us," he said, looking and sounding quite offended.

"But you never lifted a finger for Sirius Black, and yet, he used to be a favourite of yours."

"Do not compare, please," he said curtly. "We all thought Sirius had betrayed the Potters, and everything, until he escaped from Azkaban to find Peter Pettigrew, pointed clearly to his being a remorseless killer. Besides, I don't understand why you seem to call me to task for saving Severus, when it was the right thing to do."

"It was the right thing to do, but I have seldom seen you so vehement or to involve yourself so actively and personally."

"I should resent that, Minerva. Must I really remind you that I actually died to save the Wizarding world?"

"I know that you spared no sacrifice for great causes and principles, yes, but not for flesh and blood people. You even had Barty Crouch's head on a plate for the torture at the Ministry, just for Severus's sake."

"If I did, why should I be ashamed?" he asked, with the usual enigmatic little smile playing on his lips that exasperated her so much. "You did not take it any better when you saw how they treated him," he reminded her.

"I am certainly not blaming you, I just say that I knew then that you had a change of heart about Severus."

The little smile did not falter. In that instant, she wanted nothing so much than wipe it out.

"Since the end of the war," she informed him in a sharp voice, "I've tried to understand how you could plan so coldly and thoroughly to ask him to sacrifice everything, without offering him even one small grain of hope… And now I learn that you have been plotting all along to have his portrait painted without him even knowing it."

"If you heard my discussion with Hermione Granger, you know that I meant it as a compensation."

"Not to me, Dumbledore. The instant I saw that blood vial, I knew that you meant to keep Severus at your beck and call beyond the grave." She leaned forward. "Waiting until Harry Potter was dead, indeed!" She snorted. "What you were waiting for was for the time when all those who fought in the war would be dead, too," she added bitterly. "You would have had his portrait painted when nobody remembered anything about Severus, except that he had been a traitor and a murderer. Without any memory, he would have been forced to rely on you for everything. How happy you would have been!"

Dumbledore looked a little sideways, like a wise old owl. "Aren't you forgetting something, Minerva?"

"What?"

"He would have remembered you, too."

"Oh!" she cried, throwing up her arms. "You… You zany! Ah! Yes, I would have been soooo welcoming and helpful… After living decades believing the worst of him!"

"You have such a loving heart," he informed her, disarmingly sincere. "And you always had a soft spot for Severus, even when he was our student – a not very engaging student, I might add, which just proves my point. I am sure that, in the end, you would have been happy to be reunited with him and maybe resume..."

"Incredible!" She cut in the raptures, levelling her arms before letting them fall dramatically and shaking her head in disbelief. "The greatest wizard of our time, and not a grain of common sense or understanding for the feelings of others!" She turned very serious and asked, "It never occurred to you that I would meet someone else, enter another relationship and have no wish to 'resume things' as you say?"

Dumbledore blinked. "At your age?"

"What about my age?" she asked, lifting her chin.

"Nothing, Minerva!" he hastened to say. "Nothing. I just remember you telling me that you were too old to marry again."

"Fifteen years ago," she said defiantly, "When I was just widowed and still traumatized! I've had ample time, and opportunity, to change my mind."

"Of course," he approved, as heartily as he could.

"But can you imagine the effect on Severus?" she breathed, her skin crawling at the thought. "To wake up as a portrait, learn that he has been dead and hated by the entire wizarding world for decades and for things he can't even remember, and to find out, on top of everything, that I, who, from his point of view, he has just left at the school, have hated him, too, all that time… And replaced him!"

Dumbledore flushed with embarrassment. "I confess you have me at a loss there, but I hope that, by that time, I would have thought of something. There are always solutions."

She noticed, with little satisfaction, that he had as good as confessed that she was right. She sighed, "I hope you don't have another hair-brained plan up your sleeve, like re-uniting him with Lily Evans with some other hidden vial of her blood?"

It was her turn to blink, at Dumbledore's brief recoil in disgust, that he immediately hid behind a polite smile. "I have no hidden vial left," he said. "And I would certainly not promote a relationship based on obsession."

"You encouraged it very well when it suited you."

"I had no need to feed any obsession of Severus's," he countered, all dignity again. "He did it easily enough all by himself, even as a teenager."

She shrugged. "He was a rather passionate youth, and you should have nurtured it towards the right path. Instead..." She pinched her lips. "You know my opinion. I still cannot understand why you always refused to exert yourself in his favour back then."

A bitter snort from above made her start. She was surprised to find Phineas Black watching them with a cynical sneer etched on his lips. "What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. "I ordered everyone away!"

Black stuck his nose in the air. "You cannot know how glad I am that I did not turn up to watch something untoward yet again. I had probably left before you gave the order and you should remember this for another time," he explained. "And may I remind you that I was not the only one?"

He looked around, spotting several fellow portraits whose twitching lips proved that they were faking sleep but were having a great time listening.

"Never mind," Minerva sighed. "What have you done with Dilys?"

"Left her apologizing to Severus."

"I see," Dumbledore said, a knowing look on his face. "I was sure Hermione Granger had managed to piece together the truth about you and Severus, and I wondered how, but if she had Dilys Agripina's help..."

"Do not presume to shed blame on Dilys," Black instantly objected. "At least, she means well. You cannot say the same."

Dumbledore straightened. "You may not like me but you must recognise that I did not betray Severus as you always claimed." He took a sweet and put it in his mouth with a pout.

"Not this time, that's true," Black drawled. "But when he was a student, it was another matter."

Minerva interposed eagerly, "What do you know, Phineas?"

"I know a lot of things about our… How did you call him? Ah! Yes, 'the greatest wizard of our time'," he declaimed insultingly.

Minerva tapped her foot impatiently. "Stop beating about the bush! If you really know something, just say it."

"Do you remember rumors of a certain incident, back at the beginning of Severus's sixth year, mere weeks after the end of your sabbatical?"

Dumbledore made a strangled, coughing sound. "Such a long time," he began but Minerva cut him. "Yes! I always suspected something very fishy, but," she pointed at Dumbledore, "He told me not to worry, as usual. Poppy was quite incensed, too, because Severus was obviously traumatized, but we never could get a word out of him, or out of anyone for that matter."

"Severus would have been hard pressed to tell you anything," Black sneered. "Our great, so ethical and righteous Headmaster here had extracted a Vow of Silence from him, while he was still in shock."

"WHAT?!" roared Minerva, turning to Dumbledore again.

"It was for the best, Minerva," he hastened to say, almost imploringly. "Poor Remus Lupin was but another victim. He would have been driven away from the school, cast away with the likes of Greyback. I just took on myself to-"

"To ignore a murder attempt to cover your own faults. Nothing much… Just letting a werewolf attend school clandestinely or support bullies," interrupted Black, with awfully restrained anger. "After all, the victim was just a Slytherin, and the perpetrator one of your precious Gryffindors!"

"Sirius!" Minerva exclaimed. She had always suspected he had done something awful. Dumbledore had heaped all possible punishments over his head at the time, short of sending him down, in spite of his usual spiel about the need to encourage at least one of the Blacks against aligning with Voldemort.

"Indeed. My little-lamented great-great-grandson found it funny at the time to trick Severus into meeting the future Professor Lupin in werewolf form."

"Merlin!" She suddenly understood Snape's almost irrational dislike of Remus Lupin and why he persisted in rejecting the poor man's attempts to apologize and befriend him.

"As you say. When James Potter heard, he at least had the sense to realise the possible consequences. It certainly would not have been pretty. A hidden werewolf, clandestinely accepted at Hogwarts... A band of illegal Animagi who would of course be interrogated by the Ministry since he was their friend… The high probability that a weak boy like Peter Pettigrew would break at one time or another and confess everything… Not to speak of the blot on our great wizard's reputation."

"It was damage control!" Dumbledore interrupted angrily. "They were all underage, too young to have their lives destroyed by thoughtfulness. I admit I miscalculated the level of pressure it put on young Severus but I meant well."

"You tricked a boy in emotional shock into believing he owed a life debt to his bully and you call that 'miscalculating?!" Phineas Black was trembling with fury, for all the years he had been compelled to keep Dumbledore's secrets.

"How do you know that, Phineas?" Minerva asked. She did not doubt the cunning wizard, but there was no portrait in the secure part of the Infirmary that he could have visited, precisely for confidentiality.

"The Bloody Baron," he said with a smug glance at Dumbledore who stiffened even more. "Since Dumbledore would do nothing for the Slytherins and Slughorn took his duties as a joke, we tried to keep an eye on our students, Severus in particular. And were we right to do so!"

Minerva stared icily at Dumbeldore. "How could you?!"

He licked his lips and said, quite lamely in Phineas's opinion, "At the time, I really thought it was for the best."

It did not take long for Minerva to blow up. "For the best? Poppy was so worried, she wanted to send Severus to Constanz. No wonder you refused! Your friend would have spotted at once that he was coerced into silence, when the only thing that could have helped him was to speak of what happened!"

Only too happy to add fuel to the Headmistress's ire, Black said in a tone full of hidden meaning, "As if it was not awful enough, he shamelessly rewarded James Potter with the Head Boy position that he clearly did not deserve for supposed bravery in saving another student."

Dumbledore did not dignify this with an answer, but Minerva frowned unhappily before confessing, "At the time, I was much too happy that it was one of my Gryffindors to question it, even if I admit I was a little surprised. James was popular, but he was certainly not Head Boy material."

"But our dear colleague here knew very well what he was doing, even if it is not the place of a Headmaster to throw students together and play matchmaker." Black snickered unpleasantly. "Why! I cannot remember another time when a Headmaster assigned so many things to do together to the Head Boy and Head Girl."

Minerva sat bolt upright. "That's it! That's the missing piece. It was all about Lily! It's always been about Lily!"

"James and Lily were very happy together," Dumbledore said, underplaying it. "If I was somehow the means to make them realise they were a very good match, it is more a reason to rejoice than anything."

"I'm pretty sure you did not give a damn if they were happy," Black said contemptuously. "As long as Lily Evans and Severus Snape were not together anymore!"

Minerva looked from one portrait to the other. "A lot of people did not accept their closeness, but I never realised you were one of them, Dumbledore."

The wizard began to protest but she warned him sternly. "I've had enough. I understand now that your always reminding Severus of his role in Lily's death was a way to make him pay. Now, you will tell me what exactly he had to pay for, or I swear I will banish you from this frame and from the school. And don't tell me it is because he was a Slytherin, because, unlike Phineas here, I never thought you were that prejudiced."

"Humph!" Black snorted.

Professor McGonagall ignored him, being much too busy tapping her hand on the arm of her seat to show that she had indeed reached the limits of her patience.

Phineas Black wisely decided that his role was finished and closed his eyes. He knew that Minerva, having found the right track, would not be satisfied before she extracted the pound of flesh he judged necessary to avenge Severus.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped. "It was not because he was a Slytherin," he said wistfully. "And I never condoned bullying but… Some children are bound to be victimized. Whatever our efforts, there is something in them that just calls up the mean or sadistic streak in their mates. You cannot deny that, most unfortunately, Severus was one of them."

Minerva sighed, which was her way to admit that he was right. In his first years, Severus was not only poor, scrawny, without any physical grace or redeeming social features, he also stubbornly clung to his scandalous friendship with a muggleborn from the rival house, which irked both his House mates and hers.

"I really believed we had things relatively under control because his results were surprisingly brilliant," Dumbledore went on.

"It certainly suited you to pretend that." The Headmistress frowned at Phineas Black for the interruption – unless it was for saying first what she thought but it would take more than that to fluster the former Chief Warlock.

"Once Poppy took things into her hands, his health also improved significantly," he said. "He grew into his adult size in a matter of months. It was so unexpected, it was quite unsettling."

It must have been, because Dumbeldore suddenly looked disturbingly flustered.

"Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, scandalised. "Don't tell me that you… You noticed him."

His face contorted in disgust and outrage. "Certainly not in the way you are suggesting, Minerva! Never! A student?!"

"But you noticed something that disturbed you," she insisted. "Enough to look the other way when he needed help. I had to enlist Nearly-Headless Nick's help to discover what the Marauders did to him, when you must have known all along with all the portraits." *

Phineas Black could not help adding his helpful mite. "Without the crown of martyrdom, I do not think you would find many former students who remember James Potter with fondness. You were certainly the only one who always played down their nastiness and the emotional impact of their 'boyish pranks' as you called them."

Minerva glared at Black for interrupting again. He obligingly closed his eyes again.

"So, Dumbledore," she declared. "We have established that you went to some length to throw James Potter and Lily Evans together and to crush Severus's hopes. What was it to you, that Severus and Lily would be together?"

The old wizard looked away before finally confessing, "He was corrupting her."

"What!" she said, unable to make sense of what she heard.

"You were her Head of House, and you did not notice! You may gloat about Horace's neglecting his duties but you did just the same."

She spluttered in outrage, "How can you say that?!"

"Because, when I told you to keep an eye on them, you just laughed and said they were too young for anything serious… But as soon as they came back from the spring vacation, I saw it. It was repugnant, but had I intervened, her reputation would have been tarnished beyond repair, because the prejudice would have been against the muggleborn… And she such a brilliant witch!"

"You saw what?"

"That he could not keep his hands from her, and they were barely fourteen! He would have ruined both their lives and dragged her back to that filthy muggle place they came from. The muggles have lots of studies about such neighbourhoods and what it does to the young people there. Teenaged pregnancies… Aborted education… Wasted potential…" His face contorted in disgust. "He may have been a half-blood, but he lived with them and like them. He was one of the worst sort of muggles!"

As she blinked several times, trying to make sense of what Dumbeldore said, Phineas Black spoke, as if it explained everything. "He means the sort of muggles who attacked his sister."

"Ariana, she breathed.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to get rid of a hideous vision. "They were crass, ignorant boys, only eager to destroy all that made her a marvellous, luminous, innocent little girl!"

"I see." She wanted to sneer but it was much too sad. "The type of muggles your friend Grindelwald wanted to control and, at the time, you listened because you wanted revenge for an event that destroyed your family."

Not surprisingly, he did not answer.

"So, you had no qualms about making Severus your personal scapegoat to compensate for your own wrecked youth, because he reminded you of the boys who attacked your sister, 'the worst sort of muggles' as you put it."

He tried to explain, but clearly half-heartedly. "When he came to Hogwarts, if you remember properly, there was nothing even remotely likeable about him. Lily Evans on the other hand…" He blinked as if dazzled. "She shone. She was so pure… So eager to learn about magic… And Severus wanted to keep her back with him. He would have dragged her with him on a path of self-destruction, for the sake of the basest passions."

"Lily reminded you of Ariana."

"Not physically, but I know that Ariana would have grown to be just like her. I simply could not stand and watch Lily Evans waste her life." He shuddered. "You have never seen that place where they came from."

Minerva could not believe her ears. "So, instead of trying to save the both of them from that place, you sacrificed Severus." He winced at the comment. "Just like you sacrificed Lily's baby, when it suited your plans to abandon him with that same worst sort of muggles. Well done," she said with sarcasm. "Very well done. You can be proud of yourself."

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a considerable time.

"I might have been able to forgive you, in time," Minerva finally said, "But I see you're incorrigible! I can't even pity you for being so stupid and so blind."

She marched to the portrait, and even if it was held much higher than her, she switched her wand even as she spit on it. It landed right on Dumbledore's face.

He could not feel it, of course, but he remained frozen, unable to believe what she had done.

"Zimpsy!" she called.

Her personal elf appeared, all smiles. "What can Zimpsy do for the Headmistress?"

Minerva pointed at Dumbledore's portrait and the elf cried, "Oh! Zimpsy will have the Headmaster's portrait cleaned at once!"

"No, Zimpsy!" Minerva ordered. "I called you to forbid you and all Hogwarts elves to clean this before I expressly tell you to do it."

The elf bowed, unable to refuse the Headmistress but wringing her hands in distress as she glanced at Dumbledore's portrait with its long run-out of already drying spit.

Such untidiness at Hogwarts!

"And no punishing yourself for what he brought on himself either," Minerva added, more kindly.

"Ooooh!" the elf whimpered before hiding her face in her hands, nodding frantically to her mistress before Disapparating.

Professor McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore, an icy glint in her eyes. "I may let them clean it when Severus is acquitted. You can pray that he is, and meditate in the meantime about what he had to suffer on your orders. After all" she said pointing at the spit, "You made me go out with him to stop just that kind of thing."

The door slammed shut behind her.

TBC