Snape was sitting at the Malfoy's dining room table, staring down at the all the silverware beside his plate, wondering what the bloody point of all those forks was.

Ever since they'd lost their house-elf the Malfoys had been reduced to hiring someone to do the housekeeping and the cooking. They'd had the same servant for the past year, a young woman from one of those ancient families that had gone broke several generations prior and was diligently trying to climb back up the ladder, Miss Warrington her name was, one of his Slytherins. He'd caught her sneaking into the dragon enclosure at the Triwizard Tournament her seventh year and he was sure she'd be in Romania by now, studying the beasts.

There was an outbreak of nudging and amused murmurs as Miss Warrington walked into the room, five silver trays hovering in the air in front of her. She lowered them onto the table with a flick of the wand.

The Dark Lord fixed his eyes on her. "More wine, Miss Warrington."

If she felt any discomfort at being watched so closely by the Dark Lord she didn't show it. "Yes my Lord," she said, like one of those Muggle automatons, without any expression at all.

She handed the Dark Lord his glass and he looked into her eyes for the smallest sign of fear, the merest flicker of disapproval or disgust at all those times she'd been forced to put poison into someone's drink and watch them convulse. Snape studied his face but he couldn't tell if he saw anything.

The Dark Lord raised his glass and they all followed suit. "To Minister Thicknesse, and the glorious future we shall build together."

Thicknesse was sitting across from Snape, wearing the blank, sloppy grin of a man how had no idea where the hell he was but was enjoying himself anway. His weakness was as disgusting as his face. Snape had students who could resist the Imperius Curse better than this dung sack.

Like Potter. Snape knew all about his narrow escape, knew he wouldn't be able resist the opportunity to show off and say the Dark Lord's name. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he did it again and Snape would have to swoop in and save his arrogant arse.

"...Severus?"

Snape snapped back to attention. Everyone was looking at him.

"Have you heard the good news?" the Dark Lord went on. "The governors have made their decision. It was unanimous."

A ripple of laughter broke out around the table, because of course it was. Snape leaned back in his chair and smirked at all the idiots sitting around the table as the Dark Lord held up his glass. "To the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School."

Snape took a drink and looked over his glass at Draco. His expression was unsure, as though he didn't know whether to be pleased or not. Lucius and Narcissa seemed calm enough. They'd wanted this for years.

"I am honoured, my Lord," said Snape in a bored voice, as though becoming Headmaster of a prestigious wizarding school were an everyday occurance, because he knew how much it would annoy Bellatrix.

Just as he'd hoped Bellatrix's lips thinned like she'd tasted something bitter. The Carrows spent the entire meal kissing his arse, no doubt hoping for favours once they got to Hogwarts, and Snape supposed they'd do as his deputies, they were loyal enough. He'd been worried the Dark Lord would appoint Yaxley or Bellatrix or someone else who'd go behind his back and do things their own way.

When the pudding had been served-chocolate dragons coated in edible gold that had been transfigured to fly into the room-Snape stood up and took his leave, hoping against hope they'd let him.

He got as far as the doorway before the Dark Lord caught up with him.

"Severus," he said, head cocked slightly to one side as he studied his face. "Headmaster." He smiled in a way that told Snape he was about to fuck with his mind. "I have a reward for you. First floor, east wing, second bedroom to your right. I think you'll find her worthy."

His lips curled and he had that triumphant glint in his eyes like he'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. Snape knew he remembered every second him on his knees, begging him to spare a Mudblood. He wondered if the woman was a reward or a punishment.

He emptied his mind and forced his lips into a smile."Thank you very much indeed, my Lord."

He could leave. He could go back to Spinner's End and just lie and say he'd done it. But he knew the Dark Lord was watching him. He drowned his feelings but they surfaced in his rapid breath and tight chest and pounding head.

Don't think.

Snape stopped at the top of the stairs and listened for the rustle of fabric, the sound of breathing. He couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean the Dark Lord wasn't there. He had ways of making himself inaudible, it was like he could become part of the air.

He probably didn't need to worry so much once he was inside at least, the Dark Lord wouldn't go so far as to come into the room with him. He turned the doorknob and took a deep breath, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him and muttering an Imperturbable Charm, just in case.

A young woman with long dark hair was sitting at the edge of a double bed, smoking. She held the fag way his mother used to, working it anxiously between her fingers. Snape recognized her. She'd been in his N.E.W.T potions class a few years ago, and hadn't done too badly.

The woman took a long drag and looked him up and down, nose wrinkled in disgust. Snape just wanted to get the hell out of there, away from everyone, away from himself, and yet there she was, and he could do anything he wanted to her, and wasn't that what he was supposed to want, wasn't that what it meant to be powerful, to be someone? He couldn't make her want him, but he could make her have him, and in the end it amounted to the same thing.

But he didn't want to. Or was it just that he couldn't bring himself to do it? Or was it both? Was he just as sick and twisted as the rest of them? He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't angry with her. There were echoes of his old tormentors in the way she looked at him, like his presence was offensive.

She raised her fag to her mouth and pursed her lips together.

"You'll get lung cancer," said Snape. Of all the stupid things to say. The woman just stared at him and blew another cloud of smoke in his face.

She flicked the fag to the wood floor and stamped it out with her foot. "Well?" she said, her voice tired, resigned. Let's just get this over with.

He wondered what she was even doing there. Likely she from some destitute Pureblood family trying to claw its way back up, like Miss Warrington.

There wasn't much he could do, the Dark Lord was bound to look into her mind after. One wrong move and his house of cards would collapse and everything he'd gone through would be for nothing.

He undid the top buttons on his robes and stepped towards her, forceful, aggressive, and just as he hoped she shrank back, fingers curled around the duvet.

She'd remember this and her fear was all the Dark Lord would need to see to be satisfied.

Snape raised his wand. "Confundo." The woman's eyes went slack and Snape knelt down in front of her and squinted in concentration.

"You think we've been together," he murmured. "You're afraid of me. You want to leave this place and go abroad. You don't know I told you this."

He turned his arm a bit so his watch face was showing and wondered how long he should wait. How long did these things usually take-twenty minutes, sixty? He settled for fifteen and stood awkwardly by the door, mussing up his hair and unbuttoning his collar. His kept thinking about the woman on the bed and the things he could do to her and it excited him and he hated it. He'd only ever been with two people, two brief, out-of-body encounters he barely remembered. But the longing never really went away, and sometimes when he was alone he'd imagine horrible things, being pushed around and tied up. He wished he could tear off his body like clothing, throw it away and become a phantom.

He forced himself to stop thinking, and when the time had passed he flicked his wand towards the woman on the bed.

"Finite."

She stood up and hurried out the door without another look at him. She'd be alright.

He supposed the Dark Lord would be waiting and he tried to look confident and relaxed as he walked down the stairs, the way the thought the others might look. The Dark Lord was gone but Yaxley was standing at the bottom smirking, he was such a prick.

"She left in a hurry," he said.

Snape's lip curled. "I told her you were looking for her."

Yaxley made a face and opened his mouth to say something but Snape pushed past him towards the door. He'd just reached it when someone screamed. He grabbed his wand and strode towards the sound, the drawing room, he thought.

Three figures were standing by the wall in front of a huge tapestry of satyrs and nymphs embroidered in of gold and silver threads, one of Narcissa's Black family heirlooms. Bellatrix had her wand pointed to Miss Warrington's chest and the Dark Lord was standing in front of her and smiling slightly, his posture tense, controlled.

"Ah, Severus," he said. "You're just in time. It seems we have a traitor in our midst."

Snape glanced at Miss Warrington, who was staring at Bellatrix's wand as though hypnotized.

He kept his expression cool, as though she were merely a curiosity. Which, in a way, she was. He hadn't realized there were others. "Really?"

"Indeed. It seems she has been passing information to the Order."

Now Snape was intrigued. He wished he'd known, he could have done it for her. She was too reckless for her own good.

"Now," said the Dark Lord, his face close to her ear. "I'm not going to ask you again. Where is the message?"

Miss Warrington swallowed hard. Her face was shining with sweat. "I don't-I don't have it."

The Dark Lord nodded to Bellatrix.

"Crucio!"

Miss Warrington fell to the floor in a heap, writhing and screaming.

"Wait," said Snape. Bellatrix lowered her wand and Snape knelt down beside Miss Warrington.

"Give us the message and we'll let you leave here alive."

He didn't know how he did it, how he just flat-out lied to her. They'd get the message either way, but perhaps he could buy her some time, work out a plan. Take her to a back room to finish her off and get her out through a window.

Miss Warrington looked back at him and her face was resolute despite her wide, terrified eyes. "I don't have it."

She wasn't going to crack. The Dark Lord nodded to Bellatrix, but Snape was quicker.

"Shouldn't we interrogate her?"

"There is no need," said the Dark Lord. "She is merely an underling."

He'd made up his mind. There was nothing more he could do.

Snape had his wand halfway up his sleeve. He pointed it at Miss Warrington and spoke the incantation with his mind.

Imperio

The woman's face went slack. Snape glanced at Bellatrix but she didn't seem to have noticed.

You will feel no pain. You are in a forest with dragons where everything is peaceful and nothing can harm you.

Bellatrix raised her wand. "Crucio!"

Her spell had no effect on Miss Warrington. She was completely at peace.

"She's lost her mind," crowed Bellatrix. Snape wondered if she'd let her go. Surely madness was punishment enough?

She considered her a long time and all Snape could do was watch. He couldn't order her not to die.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Miss Warrington slumped to the floor, her eyes closed, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. She hadn't felt a thing.

He scarcely remembered what happened next. The Dark Lord handed him a slip of paper and a vial and he left the manor and spun into the air.

Snape was pacing the Headmaster's office and the old man was staring down at him all pityingly like a father hugging a child after a thrashing, it's for your own good, the hell it was.

"Did something happen Severus?"

"I was at a Death Eater meeting, what do you think?" he snapped.

"A foolish question indeed. Forgive me, my dear Severus."

Why the hell was he being so polite, was he mocking him? Snape stifled the fuck you on the edge of his lips and stopped pacing.

"The Malfoy's servant was an informant for the Order," he said. "They took this from her after they finished her off." He held up the vial and the sheet of parchment. "It appears to be some sort of potion, but I can't read the message. It's written in code."

"Indeed," muttered Dumbledore. "And you think you can break it?"

"Eventually," said Snape. This sort of thing was a specialty of his, he'd deciphered a bit of code in the last war.

"Good, good. Phineas has just informed me that Harry, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are still safe in Grimmauld Place."

Phineas made an impatient noise. "Most unfortunately. They've become insufferable with their mood swings and their teenage arrogance, now they planning to break into the Ministry of all places-"

Snape whipped around. "What?"

Phineas was examining one of his fingernails but Snape had the feeling he was rather enjoying himself. "They think they're going to break into the Ministry of Magic, don't ask me why, I have no idea. Bloody Gryffindors."

"Can't you talk them out of it?"

Phineas looked up from his fingernail and raised an eyebrow. "As though they'd listen to anything I said."

"Idiots," spat Snape.

Phineas made an appreciative noise. "Finally someone agrees with me."

"Don't worry about Harry, Severus," said Dumbledore. "He's faced worse dangers."

Snape opened his mouth to object but Dumbledore held up a hand. "As I've said, don't worry abot Harry. There is a great deal of work to be done. Have you designed a new curriculum? Prepared the timetables? Come up with a budget?"

Snape just stared at him with his mouth open. He had no idea just how much work needed to be done. "I-no."

"Well, then sit down, my dear boy, and let's get started."

Snape spent a week holed up in the Headmaster's office poring over tedious administrative tasks and drawing up timetables, but it felt more like a year.

Allowing Muggle-borns to attend was out of the question, and as much as he disliked children he felt some regret at the thought of all those excited eleven-year-olds about to be turned away. The Dark Lord had insisted that Muggle Studies become compulsory, and the Dark Arts taught, by that idiot Amycus at least, and not Bellatrix, whose hatred of children didn't extend to teaching them the finer points of the Cruciatus Curse.

The puppet government valued education rather more than the previous one had, and the budget had increased. The staff salaries would remain unchanged, including that of a certain elf, and the day before the new term he faced his first and most bizarre task as Headmaster.

Lily used to sneak into the school kitchens but Snape only ever started going there after a few years of teaching. Sometimes he'd meet Minerva and they'd drink hot chocolate and gossip about their students and see who could deliver the most stinging insults towards the other's house. Minerva usually won.

He forced himself not to think about her as the entrance opened and he stepped inside. The elves stepped back, ears drooping like frightened dogs. Timid little beasts.

"I am looking for Dobby."

Every head turned towards the elf, a green-eyed, bat-eared creature dressed in a bizarre array of mismatched clothing. He stepped forward, ears slicked back and eyes burning with anger, and Snape supposed he must have heard everything. The elves didn't miss much.

Or maybe he just remembered him from the first war.

The elf thrust a crooked finger at Snape's chest. "You is a horrible man. You is not ought to be taking Dumbledore's place!"

Indignant murmurs spread though the room. One of the elves raised a meat cleaver in the air.

"There is something I need to discuss-"

"You is leaving now!"

"I need to-"

"Out! Out!"

The elf grabbed Snape by the thumb and twisted it with everything he had.

Snape snatched his hand away. "I'm here to discuss your pay!" he snapped.

The elf's eyes widened. "My...pay?"

"You were receiving one galleon a week, I believe?" The elf nodded. "You will continue to receive it, under one condition. You are not to tell anyone, do you understand?"

The elf looked utterly bewildered, but he didn't protest. "Dobby is not saying a word, sir."

"Good." Snape drew himself up to his full height and stared round at the rest of them. "None of you is to say a word about this, and that's an order."

The elves nodded, as confused as Dobby, and Snape knew his secret was safe. Their magic was strong enough to block any attempt at Legilimency.

He had no idea what made him do it. Maybe he was going senile. Maybe the elves were too useful to ignore. Maybe he was just tired of feeling like a monster.

He swept out of the room and paced around the Headmaster's office, wishing he had a fag or a potion or something to calm his nerves. He'd already had to face reporters from the Daily Prophet aiming their stupid camera at his face and asking for quotes and now some of the staff were due to arrive and he'd be forced to dine with them. Holing up in his office would just make him look weak, and he had to meet with the heads of house after anyway.

He couldn't bring himself to wait for them in the Entrance Hall the way Dumbledore had. He paced the little room off the staff table until quarter to six and walked into the empty Hall. Dumbledore's chair was far too large for him, too strange. He shifted around but he couldn't get comfortable.

Alecto and Amycus arrived a few minutes later, talking and laughing. They stopped in front of the table and Amycus bowed so low his hat fell off. Alecto followed suit.

Snape clenched his teeth and held up a hand in greeting. "Here and here," he said, pointing to their seats, a ways down the table because he couldn't bring himself to let them sit in Minerva's seat, or Sprout's or Flitwick's.

He cracked his knuckles and ran a hand through his hair. Time had all but stopped. He imagined it was just an ordinary year, and Minerva would sit down on one side of him and Sprout on the other and they would talk about their holidays and he'd tell them he'd had a fine time and Minerva would raise her eyebrows and peer over her glasses at him because she knew he was lying and he'd go to her office after and have a drink and he'd tell her how his holiday really went, or some of it anyway...

The door creaked open and Minerva's footsteps thundered through the Great Hall.

"How dare you? How dare you sat where he sat, you fucking traitor?"

She was white-faced and shaking, lips thin and nostrils flaring. A lioness.

"If you and those-those foul sycophants-" she glared at the Carrows, who jeered back at her-"harm a single student, I swear on Dumbledore's grave I will kill you myself, do you understand?"

Snape couldn't answer her. His body was thrumming with things he couldn't name.

"Do you hear me? Answer me, you coward-"

The sting of it sent a surge of anger through him and he welcomed it, used it. He stood up and slammed his hand down on the table.

"Enough!"

The Carrows went silent and Alecto raised her eyebrows, clearly enjoying the display, and Snape regretted that he'd given her the satisfaction. He adjusted his robes and lowered his voice, his expression cool. "I expect more self-control from my staff, Minerva. Threaten me again and you will regret it."

"Let's get one thing straight, Severus. I am here to protect my students. You are not my Headmaster and I am not a member of your staff, do you understand me?"

Snape couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Professors Flitwick and Sprout hurried into the room looking terrified, grabbing onto her arms to restrain her, and Minerva clenched her jaw shut and walked over to the staff table without another look at him. Professor Sprout shot him a look of pure loathing that twisted her warm, open face into something he didn't recognize.

McGonagall should have sat at his right-hand side, as his most senior staff member and Head of Gryffindor House, but she refused. She took a seat a few places down. There may as well have been a continent between them and how was he going to get through this meal?

More staff members filed in, some glaring at him, some refusing to look at him at all. Slughorn spared him a small shocked glance before taking his seat towards the end of the staff table, and Sinistra pursed her lips together, scowling. Hagrid hadn't shown up at all.

Snape didn't know how he got through the meal. His body cut up some food and ate and drank but he didn't know where he was.

He left the table while the rest of them were still eating and made his way through the Entrance Hall to the staff room, where he arranged a few chairs around a small wooden table. He wondered if they'd boycott the meeting in protest but walked in some time later, whispering and muttering amongst themselves.

"Let's get this over with," said Minerva as she sat down. "What foul changes have you and your underlings brought upon Dumbledore's school?"

She was wielding his name like a dagger. Snape clenched and unclenched his fists and shuffled through the stacks of parchment on the table in front of him. He pulled an enchanted quill out his robes to record the minutes and faced the heads of house, keeping his eyes fixed slightly above their heads because he couldn't bring himself to look them in the eye.

"This meeting will now come to order," he said, his voice as cool and commanding as he could make it. "I have a copy of the minutes from the previous meeting." He handed them around. "Do I hear a motion to adopt?"

Minerva shot him down with a sharp 'tchah' and crumpled up the parchment. "We know who's really in charge here, Severus, so dispense with these formalities and stop insulting our intelligence."

Snape scowled but he didn't argue with her, he'd never seen the point of those formal procedures anyway. He drew himself up to his full height and tried to look imposing.

"As you are no doubt aware, there will be some changes to the curriculum and the teaching staff this year-"

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "You don't say?"

Professor Sprout clutched her arm. "Minerva," she whispered, eyes wide with fear, but Minerva looked as resolute as ever.

Snape decided to ignore them. "I've outlined the changes here-" he flicked his wand and sent four pieces of parchment flying to the heads of house-"and I have the timetables drawn up." He gestured to four thick stacks of parchment on the table.

Minerva took one look at her parchment and stood up. "You have those foul Carrows teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle studies? I will not permit it!"

Snape's anger was instinctive and he did nothing to stifle it. He grabbed hold of it, controlled it, channeled it into his narrowed eyes and fierce, soft voice. "You do not have the authority to permit anything. Now sit down."

"I will not! This-" Minerva ripped the parchment in half. "Is-" she ripped it again. "A farce!"

She stared him down, breathing hard, daring him to say anything.

His anger, his hurt, his humiliation was ballooning up inside his chest and threatening to overwhelm him. He clenched his teeth as though he could tamp it down. "Carry on like this and I will have you thrown out of the school."

The threat was an empty one. The school needed her. He wondered if she knew it, because she simply glared at him and swept out of the room, Sprout and Flitwick hurrying along behind her. Slughorn stood up slowly and ambled along after them, playing his hat between his fingers. When he'd reached the door he stopped and turned around, the corners of his mouth drooping under his mustache, like a wax figure left too long in the sun.

"I just don't understand, Severus. Dumbledore...why?"

Snape had no idea how to answer him, but Slughorn didn't seem to expect him to. With a last stricken look he turned and walked away, leaving Snape alone in the empty staff room.

He swept out the door and took the corridors at a fast walk, almost a run, not stopping until he'd reached the headmaster's office.

He strode up to the old man's portrait and scratched it under his fingernails but the canvas wouldn't tear.

Dumbledore had that pitying look on his face again, the incorrigible old fuck. "I'm sorry, Severus-"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Snape. "You scheming bastard-you knew-you had this all planned-"

He grabbed the frame with both hands and pulled it from the wall to break it over his fucking knee, but it wouldn't budge, because of course this damned castle wouldn't let him have even that small satisfaction . He kicked over his chair and threw a silver scale is against the wall and leaned over the desk to catch his breath.

Dumbledore's portrait said nothing and Snape shot it a furtive glance, wondering if the old man was jeering at him, but his expression was serious.

The portrait of Armando Dippet let in a scandalised breath. "Never, in all my time have I seen such a disgraceful display, you call this man Headmaster-"

Snape wheeled around. "SHUT UP!"

"That will do, Armando," said Dumbledore. He looked back at Snape. "I understand how difficult this must be for you Severus-"

"The hell you do!"

He thought Dumbledore would hold up a hand to stop him, make some objection, insist that he did, in fact understand, but he was quiet a long time. "Perhaps you are right."

His admission shocked Snape into-he wasn't sure what, exactly. But his heart stopped pounding and his head wasn't all white-hot flashes of anger and he was drained enough to slump down on the desk chair with his head in his hands, wishing time would just stop. He didn't want to stay awake and he was afraid to go to sleep.

His eyelids were drooping and he rested his arms on the desk and laid his head down, too tired to control his thoughts. He was walking the grounds with Miss Corlett on a peaceful summer morning, watching the butterfly, and her voice was the last thing he heard before he went to sleep.

Snape woke up the next morning to the sun in his eyes and a sore back. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting on his arms, which had become stiff and numb.

The light was tinted orange and he supposed it must be early, about six-thirty or seven in the morning. He draped his traveling cloak over his shoulders and hurried down to the Entrance Hall, praying he wouldn't run into any of the staff.

He didn't understand this sudden urge to go outside. Miss Corlett had taken to walking the grounds in the morning but they were large enough that the chances of running into her were slim, and she was sure to have heard about him by now anyway. Which was just as well, she was rather annoying.

He glanced around for any sign of Hagrid, but he didn't see him. There was a bit of smoke coming out his chimney so he was probably fixing himself breakfast.

He told himself it was just an ordinary school year, he was just taking a break from his lesson plans and waiting for the train to arrive. He'd go to the feast and eat as much food as he could hold and listen to Dumbledore's bizarre speeches.

He walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, past the Whomping Willow, and he was about to turn back towards the castle when he saw Miss Corlett, stooping down to examine a plant or insect. She started at the sound of his footsteps but when she looked up and saw who it was her face relaxed. So she didn't know. Or was she hiding something?

She stood up and the breeze blew her hair across her face, the strands jagged and uneven. He supposed she had to cut it herself, to keep it short. Her skin was flushed from the cold but there were dark circles under her eyes and she didn't seem entirely well, not that he cared.

"Professor Snape-I mean, Headmaster-that's wonderful by the way, congratulations."

She must've heard about it from Lupin or read about it in the Prophet, but why on earth was she congratulating him? He decided not to comment on it.

He glanced down at the bundle in her hand. "Sage?"

"Er-yeah," she said, sounding a bit flustered. "I like to use it fresh and I might not get too many more chances to pick it before the cold sets in."

She tied the bundle of leaves with a piece of twine and tucked it into her robes. "I tried that licorice and ginseng infusion Professor, it worked perfectly. I haven't had a bad batch since."

Snape murmured a distracted reply. He wondered what sorts of things Lupin had been telling her about him, and yet it must'nt have been too terrible, because here she was, having an ordinary conversation with him.

"Do you remember the first time I tried to make it?" said Miss Corlett. "I added too much silver and the potion caught on fire."

"Vividly. I never did get the scorch marks off the desk."

Miss Corlett snorted. He'd forgotten that ridiculous laugh of hers. "And then the end of my braid got singed and I went mental."

She went quiet and played with her hands in a way that told him she was about to say something sincere.

"You really taught me a lot, you know. My employer-Owain Quirk, he's potioneer, have you heard of him?"

He nodded; Quirk was well-respected in potioneering circles, but Snape mainly remembered him for an article he wrote in The Practical Potioneer, about first-aid for potioneers who accidentally poisoned themselves while eating their own ingredients.

"Well, he said that he'd never had an apprentice who knew so much. And it's all thanks to you. I suppose it's no surprise they appointed you headmaster."

Snape was far too clever to be taken in by her flattery. Something was going on here-was she spying on him for the Order? She must've been.

He drew his wand and Miss Corlett jumped back, startled. Ah. So she was afraid of him.

"Let's not have any more pretense, Miss Corlett. Whatever it is you're trying to do here, it's not going to work." He pointed his wand to a nearby stand of trees. "Homenium Revelio." Nothing. They were alone, it seemed.

Miss Corlett glanced towards the trees and put a hand in her pocket, getting ready to draw her wand, likely. "What are you talking about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

Miss Corlett looked completely bewildered, but she wasn't a bad liar, he remembered that about her. "I don't actually."

"Don't lie to me. And don't ask me for more ingredients, I don't have the time to get them for you."

"But I don't have enough money-"

"Then make some potions to sell. You're a potioneer aren't you?"

Miss Corlett looked so stricken he almost wished he hadn't said anything, but he couldn't take the risk. She gave him the smallest nod and threw up her hood, and Snape supposed he wouldn't see her again.

He steadied himself a second, stifled the thought of those ungrateful bastards and their smug self-righteous rage. He brushed his fingers across the letter in his pocket and remembered Lily's face. He was doing this for her, he couldn't fail.

He drew his wand and pointed it to her head before she had a chance to fight back.

"Confundo."

Her face went slack and he stepped closer to her and stared into her eyes, her warm breath blowing on his face.

"An old Slytherin friend told you the Dark Lord's name has been Tabooed and can be used to identify the location of anyone who uses it. I did not tell you this. You must tell the first Order member you see. Finite."

Miss Corlett's eyes turned sharp, wary. "What just happened? Why did you point your wand at me?"

"Nothing happened."

"Look, I know something's going on. I wish you would just tell me."

As if she didn't know. "Enough of this, Miss Corlett. You know exactly what's going on, and I know perfectly well what you're up to. You've been sent here by the Order, you're attempting to spy on me, and it's not going to work."

He fully expected her to break down, confess everything, or strenously deny the whole thing. But instead she was all confused indignation.

"What? Why on earth would I spy on you?"

His frustration had reached its breaking point. He threw up his hands, gesticulating the thoughts he couldn't put words to, a frustrated noise escaping his throat. And then a thought occured to him; perhaps the Order hadn't told her, perhaps they'd put her in danger for their own ends, it seemed like the sort of thing they might do. He wondered how much they'd told her.

"Did you know the Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry?"

Miss Corlett's face was obscured by her hood, but he heard her sharp breath. "Oh my God," she muttered. "So that's why the Prophet has been so ridiculous lately." She was quiet a moment, as though letting it all sink in. "But Hogwarts is safe, isn't it?"

Snape said nothing, but his silence was as good as an admission.

Miss Corlett stared at him from under her hood. "What...no. No. You couldn't have."

"Stay away from here, do you understand me?"

"I don't understand-you said you regretted it-"

"I lied. Now go.'

"You couldn't have-"

"I told you to leave!"

He couldn't see her face, but her rigid posture was all shock and confusion. She stared at him a moment and then turned towards the gates, trudging up the path with her arms crossed over her chest.

Snape went back to his office and tore at his hair.