Disgruntled, Mette and Severus descended the spiral staircase. When they were in the corridor, Mette said, "I guess that's that. They will never find out who put those patches on us, or why."
"It makes sense that it was someone from the Ministry," Severus said.
"Really? Why?"
"There was this man, Axton, who came here a few times to confirm my identity and see whether I could be allowed to carry a wand. He seemed rather suspicious of me. Seemed to think I came back on purpose, using dark magic."
"It can't be him, I never even met him. How would he have attached the patches?"
"There are ways. He could have used the Imperius Curse and gotten a House Elf to do it."
"Ugh." Mette shuddered. "I'm glad the patches are gone now! I hope they can trace them back to him!"
"It's just a theory. It might not have been him."
After a pause, Mette asked, "What were you thinking of that caused your fit?"
"I wondered whether I was responsible for all those people who died." Saying it out loud brought back the feeling of being suffocated. He swallowed.
"Hm," Mette said, "I get it. But I don't think you are. There was this prophecy, right? Dumbledore explained it to you, I saw it in the Pensieve. It said that there would be a boy with the power to kill You-Know-Who; but You-Know-Who would have to mark the boy as his equal. You only told You-Know-Who about the first part of the prophecy, about the existence of a boy. If you hadn't done this, he wouldn't have gone and actually marked Harry Potter as his equal. And then, no one would have had the power to stop him. Right?"
"You can't know what would have happened if I hadn't told him."
"That's true. But even without you, You-Know-Who would still have been there and still started a war and still killed a lot of people."
"Maybe..."
Mette stopped walking. "I understand that you are beating yourself up about what you did. But you cannot change the past." She said this softly, but firmly. She took his hand. "You can only learn to live with it. That's why you're seeing Xanimus every day."
There was an impenetrable barrier in his head that wouldn't let her words reach the right place. He thought that he had dealt with his guilt, but every time he made is peace with it, got to the bottom of it, it ripped wide open and revealed another layer. "I don't think I can ever really forgive what I did. And I wouldn't expect anyone else to, either. I understand what those reporters are getting at. How could people not hate me? How do you not hate me?" The spiral was tightening.
"I don't hate you because I see your remorse, and I see the person you could be. You can use your talents for Good as well. Just give yourself a little time and keep practicing to let go of the past. You'll get there."
He sighed and rubbed his face. "How did you know that you could stop my fit?"
Mette shook her head a little, slowly saying, "It was just an impulse."
"Thank you for acting on it."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Commemoration Day had arrived. Only thirty-six hours to go until the Feast of Life. Whenever he thought about dancing with Mette and the surprise he had prepared for her, he was filled with happy excitement. But when he thought about all the people that would be there, and how they might react to him, his happiness was replaced by crushing nervousness. But he would face them. He was ready.
He was about to enter the Great Hall for breakfast when a forbidding-looking Minerva hurried towards him and said. "My office, now."
"Again? But—" he gestured in the direction of the Great Hall.
"Mette can wait."
He jogged along after Minerva, through the castle and up the spiral staircase. Puzzled, he sat down at her desk. She handed him the Daily Prophet. His heart sank.
CONFIRMED – SNAPE WANTED POTTER DEAD UNTIL HIS LAST MOMENT
Today, we commemorate the brave witches and wizards who have fallen in defence of peace and freedom; not only during the battle of Hogwarts, but during both wars.
However, our grief and contemplation are disturbed by the presence of one in our midst who tried to turn the battle in the enemy's favour.
The Daily Prophet has it on good authority that Severus Snape, risen from the dead under most suspicious circumstances, begged his master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to let him deliver Harry Potter for slaughter until mere moments before Snape himself died. This shows, more than anything else, how deeply invested Snape was in the cause of his Dark Master.
Not enough that Snape returned - he currently lives at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among our children, tainting the memories of those who have died there. He is even rumoured to be attending the Feast of Life held at Hogwarts tomorrow.
We hereby call upon all our readers to boycott the Feast, should Snape indeed attend. We will no longer stand for a murderer and Death Eater to walk among us.
For more information and background, see p.3
When he looked up, Minerva asked, "Is this true? You asked You-Know-Who to allow you to bring him Harry Potter?"
"Yes." Why did she seem so angry? "You knew this, didn't you?"
"I most certainly did not! This changes everything! Why did you do that?"
"Because Potter was a Horcrux. He needed to die at the Dark Lord's hand. I was trying to make sure that everything would go as Dumbledore had planned."
"Potter was..."
"Did he not tell you?"
"No. He all but disappeared after the battle. Only his closest friends know everything that happened on that day."
"Should we call another press conference? I can ask Claire to attend," Severus offered.
"No, Severus. This situation is too grave to be fixed by someone bullying the reporters into silence. And I am sure that they are sending much more seasoned people this time; people too clever even for Claire. I'm afraid you need to leave the school. I will try to contact Potter to set the situation right, but it will take a while, if I can find him at all. It goes without saying that you must not attend the Feast."
At that moment, Mette burst through the office door.
"Severus!" she gasped, waving the newspaper. "We need to explain!"
Minerva did not look like she appreciated the intrusion. "It's not as simple as that, Mette! You cannot help right now, please leave my office. Severus, I will do what I can, but you need to get away from Hogwarts. I will set up my fireplace to let you travel to the Hog's Head. Lay low there until I have sorted this out. This really is the last thing I needed right before we are overrun with visitors tomorrow!"
"It's not his fault! They got it all wrong!" Mette said angrily.
"I am taking care of it." Minerva's tone made it clear that the conversation was over. She pointed Mette to the door.
"I'm going with him," she insisted.
"By all means!"
Minerva waved her wand at her fireplace, then thrust a jar of Floo powder at the two. They stepped into the flames.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Should we send Claire a note?" Mette asked after Ab had shown them to a room. The same room, in fact, that Severus had occupied on his first day back among the living.
"Minerva doesn't think Claire will be able to defuse this situation. We need a first-hand account from Harry Potter, and he is apparently all but impossible to track down."
Mette groaned and leaned against the desk. "Not that it matters now, but I bought a gown for the ball. I was really looking forward to it," she said tonelessly.
"Me too." He kissed her forehead and hugged her. "I have brushed up on my dancing skills."
She chuckled, still sounding a little sad, and murmured, "I knew you couldn't possibly remember much about dancing."
He gently pulled her away from the desk and started swaying her from side to side, then laid one hand on her waist and, with the other, took her hand. They waltzed a few steps around the tiny room.
"I was hoping to do this tomorrow, when the band plays the tune from that Cinderella film," Severus said quietly, his heart beating fast.
"Why would they play it? Although, if that would have happened, it would have been too romantic to be decent." Mette laughed quietly.
"I sent them the score. They said they'd play it."
Mette stopped moving and stared at him. "You didn't."
"I did."
"Sev— Severus!" She laughed and flung her arms around him.
"Do call me Sev."
It didn't matter anymore that they wouldn't be able to go to the ball. It didn't even matter that Britain's wizards were probably assembling a lynch mob to hunt him down right now.
He murmured into her hair, "Do you have the gloves with you?"
She made a frustrated little noise, then broke the hug to look at him. "I don't have them on me, I didn't think we'd have to leave so quickly. But I'll get them, they're in my office. I can sneak in." She took a step back and slightly held her arms out to her sides. "You know some camouflage spell, right? Cast it on me."
"Let's wait until dark. Remember, you'll just be like a human chameleon. People will still see you when you move."
"Right," she sighed. "Let's prepare by reading this then, shall we?" She reached over his shoulder towards the bookshelf. The book she had retrieved turned out to be the romance novel with the scantily-clad couple on the spine.
They spent the rest of their day talking, leafing through some of the other books and taking turns reciting the most raunchy and ridiculous passages from the romance novel.
Finally, dusk fell. Mette wanted to leave the moment the sun touched the horizon, but Severus held her back. Only when he felt it was dark enough did he cast the camouflage spell on her. She left the room, trying her best to remain inconspicuous, especially since she was buzzing with excitement.
To pass the time, he picked up the romance novel and reread one of the passages, feeling simultaneously curious and stupid. There were some helpful hints in there. He just hoped the author hadn't taken too much liberty with describing some of the things the characters did with each other. Before he knew it, he was searching for the next scene.
After a while, he looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Half an hour had passed. Mette should be back any minute. He replaced the book on the shelf and sat on the chair. He got up and leaned against the desk. Should he lie down on the bed? No, that was too much. Maybe he could sit on the bed. He took out his wand and considered casting Muffliato on the walls and the door. He'd do that after Mette came back. Which should have happened by now. Maybe she had mislaid the gloves? No, she valued them too much. Or was she preparing in any way, like taking a shower? Should he take a bath? Surely, she would have told him if she had planned on doing that.
Where was she?
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