"Sit."

The hand on Severus' shoulder pushed him down none-too-gently onto a wooden chair in the centre of the grey-tiled, bare-walled room.

There was a sturdy desk up front, heavy metal legs with a thick wooden plate. The Aurors, Williamson, he had learned, the man, and Proudfoot, the young woman, took seats beside it. They crossed their feet, almost in unison. All guards of Azkaban were human these days. Shacklebolt had dismissed the Dementors during the ethical reform that followed the end of the war well over a decade ago.

He watched their serious expressions. Both of them kept their wands out, indicating that he was under high-security surveillance. The place was heavily warded, with anti-apparation jinxes and wards in addition to the Auror watchers who were armed with batons and wands. His wand had been taken somewhere else. He never learned what they had done to it, but could only hope it was not snapped it in half already.

Proudfoot watched him with a hostile frown on her face, apparently waiting for something or someone. She had never once taken her eyes off him, even as she had thrown a bundle of clothes into his arms -a grey prison uniform made of coarse, itchy wool- and told him to disrobe upon arrival.

He broke eye contact, supressing a sigh. Her mind seemed already made up and he was not surprised. This was the Ministry of Magic he was dealing with, after all. They were unlikely to believe in an old criminal like him.

Being back in Azkaban was a harsh reality-check. He had been aware of the danger for years, of course, but had not cared so much about it until quite recently. The anxiety churning in his stomach had not so much to do with the situation, as with the need to explain himself to Hermione.

He felt shame colour his cheeks when he thought of Edward Lupin.

The only chance he would ever have of a family of his own now lay in ruins. He knew how much Hermione hated everything related to mind-magic. This was just as it had been with Lily. Years before, he had vowed for it never to happen again. Sworn it to himself, simply because he knew he couldn't take it. That his tattered old heart would not survive another time. But apparently, his ability to keep promises had failed him because he had recognised the sting at once, when that sharp arrow pierced his heart as second time. He had been lost from the moment that Rose caught up with him in the Dungeon hall.

The metal door behind him ground on its hinges as it opened and he turned his head to see a tall, bald man in red robes. He greeted Williamson and Proudfoot with a curt nod and dumped a heavy paper folder down onto the desk.

"I am Auror McFadgen," the bald one said without looking at Severus. He open the thick pile of sheets onto the first page. "Do you know why you are here?"

"No." Severus met Proudfoot's narrowed eyes and locked his arms in front of his chest. He was in dire need of a cunning plan. If he wanted to see Rose again and give Hermione the apology she deserved, he had to get out, and quickly, if only for a short time…

McFadgen picked up the sheet to hold in front of his face in the dim light. "Severus Snape," he said, "you stand accused of the illegal possession of angel's trumpet, a substance that has been banned in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland since the wizarding war of 1995 to 1998. This is a preliminary interrogation."

He looked up briefly as though to gauge Severus' reaction and Severus looked away. Without the Dementors, the place was less secure for those capable of wandless magic. It had grown dark out. He could barely gleam the churning, icy sea through a knothole in the concrete wall and he wondered if they were aware that he had mastered unsupported flight.

"You are also accused of fraud," said McFadgen, "seeing as you have abused the leniency bestowed on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to buy and import school material outside of the control of the Improper Use of Magic Office, and for your own personal goals, whichever they may be. Do you understand these charges?"

Severus barely deigned a nod, making all three Aurors frown. Proudfoot stood, wand and baton in hand. "Do you understand?" repeated McFadgen.

"I do."

"The last registered use of this toxin was by Tom Marvolo Riddle," continued McFadgen, "formerly known as Lord Voldemort, who killed sixty-three muggle women, children, and men by poisoning the drinking water in the village of Little Hangleton, Yorkshire in October of 1997 with Angel's Trumpet Draught."

Severus strengthened his occlumency shields to a degree he hadn't achieved for many years. His temples throbbed. He was all too well aware of this fact.

The Aurors were watching him closely. "We take note of the testimony of one Harry James Potter as of 1998," said McFadgen, "claiming that that your allegiance during this war lay with deceased Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore."

There was a rustle of movement and he met the hard gaze of Proudfoot as she shook her head slowly, disbelievingly.

McFadgen raised his head slightly. "However," he continued, a little louder, "based on the timing of your infraction, close to the release of former Death Eaters from imprisonment, and on your service as the former Potions Master of aforementioned Riddle, we suspect that your intentions are malevolent, aimed specifically towards the muggle population." He lowered the document. "Is there anything you would like to say to us?"

"No," hissed Severus through his teeth, fighting to keep his expression impassive. He was too exposed, too naked, with their eyes fixed on him. Sitting here was worse than undressing in front of Proudfoot, almost intolerable. He felt as threatened as he had under the Dark Lord's probing gaze. An open explanation contested all his life's experience.

"You may choose not to speak," said McFadgen sternly, "however, I want you to realise that the consequences of lying are as severe as were you under oath. These are not children's games. I'll ask again. What do you have to say in your defence?"

Severus' hands clenched in his lap. "What proof have you?"

Proudfoot approached his chair. The baton in her hand swung a little with the movement. He was sure it was intentional.

"We have all the proof we need," she said. "Your home at Hogwats was searched this very afternoon by Williamson here." She nodded her head towards the Auror with the grey ponytail. "I suppose I don't have to tell you what he found?"

Severus met her gaze squarely.

"I don't know how you managed to deceive Auror Potter like you did," Proudfoot said, leaning closer, "but I want you to know that I'm aware that you have played him. Death Eater."

Severus scowled. "You know nothing about me."

"I don't?" She smiled sweetly. "I know you made that potion in Little Hangleton. I know you tortured students at Hogwarts during the war. I know you have a history of childhood abuse, it's all in there." She pointed at McFadgen's pile of paper. "I even know what befell your muggle father." She circled his chair and Severus had to crane his neck to keep her in his field of vision.

"He killed him for you," she whispered, suddenly close by his ear. "As a gift. You hate muggles, you always have." She kicked his chair, sending a jolt up his spine, and it grated against the floor with an unpleasant sound.

"I know what you're trying to do," said Severus coldly, "you can't frighten me."

"Can't I?"

Proudfoot grasped his hair unkindly, forcing his head back so that his throat felt horribly exposed. He gave her a murderous glare in return. He didn't need her to flaunt the naked blade of her power to understand his position.

"Perhaps you just need some time in the company of your brethren," she said. "How do you think they will receive you now that you've escaped punishment for so many years? You're a traitor to them, did you know? Perhaps I should put you in Greyback's cell so that you can catch up on the old days, hm? Perhaps you'd rather explain to him what you have done?"

Williamson had been sitting quietly until then, but just as Proudfoot yanked Severus' head back a second time, he stood to his feet and crossed the room to take hold of her hand. "Wait," he said and she released his hair.

Severus watched her retreat to the other side of the room.

"We only want your cooperation," said Williamson gently. "Now, Severus, your lovely female colleague with the generous hair, don't you think she'll be disappointed to learn what you have done?"

Of course she was. Severus scoffed.

"It isn't yet too late." Williamson went back to his chair and sat. "You can make amends. Cooperate with us. Tell us what you know, it's simple. If you do, we might be able to negotiate, to work something out. You do not want to spend the rest of your life in here, I'm sure."

The rest of his life would be much shorter a time than Williamson thought. Severus cleared his throat. "I need to see Potter," he said hoarsely.

They watched him in silence. For a long moment, the only sound was from the restless North Sea.

"You need to see Potter." McFadgen sighed. "On record, that won't look very good. Is this all you have to say for yourself?"

Severus clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Very well." McFadgen closed the file with a thump and a cloud of dust. He motioned to Proudfoot.

"Put him with the other ones."

She nodded and pushed off from the wall. Wand out, she guided him out of the room and through a heavy barred gate that led into a narrow concrete corridor and to a set of stairs.

A menacing chill permeated from the dark and grimy corners, as though the Dementors' presence still lingered there. Being back reminded Severus not so much of his last trial, when he had been ill and weak, and barely alive after Nagini had nearly killed him.

He had been detached then, not really caring whether he lived or died, and he had surrendered his fate to Potter, who negotiated the pardon that had left him standing alone on the street of Cokeworth the day after, without direction or purpose. Luckily, Filius had taken pity on him, allowing him to return to Hogwarts to do the only thing he had ever known how to do.

But this time was different. This time, it was much more like the first time he had been here, for the informal interrogation that followed Karakoff's testimony in '81. He hadn't cared much about himself then either, but back then, he'd had a promise to uphold and a debt to pay. A reason to carry on.

This time, he had a reason to live.

Proudfoot lead the way up a stair that seemed to go on forever. She had chained his hands behind his back after sealing the gate that separated the interrogation area from the prison and no longer seemed concerned that he would try to escape. She was probably right. The peep-holes in the wall were too narrow to get through and the only way out was through the main entrance. It was an impermeable fortress.

There were narrow landings every so often, with small openings leading off to the hallways that contained the inmates' cells. After what seemed like an eternity, Severus stopped on one to catch his breath.

Proudfoot turned and stared down on him with a displeased frown. He was gratified to notice the sheen of sweat on her brow.

"What is it?"

Severus leaned his shoulder against the cold stone wall. He ran a hand over his mouth, feeling old and washed-out.

"Are you putting me with Fenrir?" he heard himself mutter.

Proudfoot blinked, as though the question surprised her just as much as it had him. "You afraid?" She chuckled softly. "I would if I were allowed, believe me."

He looked up at her. "But you're not?"

"No." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, wand sticking up at one side. "He'd tear you apart."

He sighed. "You truly believe I side with them then?" He watched her smooth skin and white teeth. "You're what? Twenty? Twenty-five? I must have taught you in school. Maybe even after the war. Surely you don't think…?"

"I was never in your class." Proudfoot tilted her head and gave him a haughty look. "But I was in second grade when you were headmaster."

"Oh…" He lowered his gaze.

"That's right." She turned her back on him. "I know your ways. I'm not surprised you don't remember me. You're a right bastard."

He wanted to tell her he was ashamed of what had happened that year, to explain that he had been handed an impossible situation, that the war had been hard on everyone. But the words were stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat.

"I don't remember them all," he whispered to the back of her feet. "The students. There must have been nearly a thousand…"

"Come along then," said Proudfoot over her shoulder. "My shift ends at nine."

When they finally reached the top floor, she stepped back and allowed him to enter first.

The corridor was narrow and lit by a single torch at the furthest end. Steel-bar gates separated the cells from the hall and Severus could hear muted shuffling from inside the closest one. Proudfoot pushed her wand into his lower back, urging him forward. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Steeling himself, he looked straight ahead to avoid meeting the gaze of any of the old Death Eaters. It worked out well until Porudfoot stopped him with a yank to his prison shirt. "We're here."

She smiled wickedly. Across from the cell she had indicated, Rodolphus Lestrange looked him square in the eye.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't our old friend…"

Severus ignored him, but upon opening the gate to his cell, Proudfoot bumped into him so that he stumbled towards the opposite wall. Rodolphus got hold his upper arm in an iron grasp.

"Forgive me for not keeping up with the news," he said, his face too close for comfort, "but I was quite certain you were dead."

Severus tried to wrench free, but Rodolphus was prepared. He managed to get a hold on Severus' hair as well. "Hey, Rab," he called, "Walden! Look who's here!"

Proudfoot slammed her baton into the bars on Rodolphus' gate, drowning out snickers from the other cells. "Behave now," she said. "Or you're never getting out of here if I can help it."

Rodolphus released him abruptly, but continued to watch them predatorily. Proudfoot shoved Severus inside the cell and released his hands.

"The loo is over there," she said, pointing to a dirty hole in the ground. "You get porridge thrice a day. Enjoy your stay."

She slammed the door shut with a heavy clank and left. Her footsteps echoed through the corridors as she disappeared down the stairs.

Severus tried to push open his gate, but predictably, it did not budge. Rodolphus laughed. "How unfair," he cackled. "How undeserving."

Severus watched him calmly. "At least I know where I went wrong," he said. "It seems you haven't changed at all."

Rodolphus snarled. "You betrayed the Dark Lord," he said coldly. "The guards have told us everything about you."

"The Dark Lord was a manic, raging psychopath," said Severus. He felt no immediate fear for the emaciated wraith on the other side of the bars. "You and your sorry wife were not much better. Changing sides is the finest decision of my life."

Rodolphus spat, hitting Severus' shirt form across the corridor. "When I get my hands on you," he said, eyes gleaming in the torchlight, "I'm going to kill you. Filthy traitor."

Severus wiped at his clothes. "I'd like to see you try."

"You'll regret what you did in the end." Rodolphus grinned through his dirty, lank hair. "Mark my words."

They watched each other for a moment before he picked a small piece of rock out of his pocked and started to bang it onto the steel bars. The sound echoed through the halls.

Severus turned his back on him as some of the other inmates joined in on the clamour. He retreated to the furthest shadow of his room, where he would not be visible to the others, and sat on the frayed and stained mattress that lay on the ground. He put his head in his hands.

Alone and isolated, the contrast to what he'd come close to having with Hermione became overwhelming. He thought about Rose's frightened little face and could not imagine anything in the world that had ever been so dear to him.

He felt guilty, and also sorry for himself, for being such a worthless piece of shite.

He would never be a good father to anyone; it had always been a lost cause. Lucky for Rose, she already had sane and functional family aplenty. Her real father was well adjusted and successful. She would not need him.

He wondered if he would ever get to see Hermione again. Would they even let him see Potter?

He had no idea how much time he could last in here, but chances were the wait wouldn't be all that long.

The kitchen floo at the Burrow flashed green and Hermione tumbled out in a cloud of ash. She put Rose down onto the floor and looked around.

"Molly?"

There was a noise from the lounge and Arthur's head popped in through the door.

"Oh, Hermione." He put a muggle screwdriver onto the kitchen table and went to pick up Rose. "Hello, dear." He grinned. "Isn't it a little late in the evening for you to be awake?"

"There's been a situation," said Hermione, fighting for calm. "I was hoping she could stay the night?"

"Of course." He watched her closely. "What's the matter? Is everyone all right?"

"Yes we're…" She rubbed a hand over her face. "No. No, it's not all right. Not at all."

"Tell me." Arthur guided her into a chair with a firm hand on her arm and put Rose on his lap. Hermione struggled to control her breathing.

"Where's Molly?"

"Molly is over at the Fawcetts, but she'll be back before eleven."

Hermione nodded. "I can't wait that long. Will you be all right putting her to bed?"

"Certainly. But Hermione, you have to tell me what's wrong." He frowned. "You seem distraught."

"I don't want to go to bed," said Rose in a small voice. Her tiny hands made fists around Arthur's coat. "Mum, are you leaving?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm going back to Hogwarts," she said, sharing a look with Arthur. "Someone made a terrible mistake and Severus has been arrested."

"Arrested?" Arthur's kind eyes widened. "Why?"

"He's been brewing some sort of potion," she croaked, "using illicit ingredients. And now they think he's associating with the Death Eaters."

"But that's absurd." Arthur watched her disbelievingly and she felt a wave of relief.

"I know! It is absurd, but now they've taken him to Azkaban and I have this terrible feeling…" She trailed off, watching Rose as she buried her face in Arthur's chest.

The day had been hard enough on the girl as it was. Hermione chuckled weakly. "You know what he's like," she continued, a little quieter. "He isn't going to just roll over and come clean. They'll frame him and throw away the key if I don't do something."

"Mum?" Rose peeked at her with one eye.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"Why did Sev'rus do that thing to Teddy?"

Hermione's heart sank. "I- I don't know, honey," she whispered. "I think that perhaps he was afraid…"

Rose watched her for a long moment. "Do you remember that time in Hogsmeade?" she asked quietly. "You know, when the boys at day school threw snowballs at us?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione gently. "Why would you think of that?

"They weren't aiming after me."

"Well…that's good, isn't it?" Hermione frowned. "How do you know?"

Rose hid her face again and Hermione's gut clenched.

"They teased me about it the day after," murmured Rose. "They said that Sev'rus is a bad wizard and that someone had told them to keep away from him." She sniffled. "I thought it was they who were mean…"

"Oh, no…" Hermione leaned in to brush a lock of hair from the side of her face. "Things aren't always that simple, Rose." She sighed. "People do strange things sometimes. And Severus, well, he was terribly stressed today."

Rose wiped at her nose. "Why?"

"I don't know everything yet." Hermione looked back up at Arthur. "But I'm going to find out." She stood. "Will you be all right with Grandma and Grandpa, Rose? I'll come for you tomorrow."

It was clear that Rose wasn't all right with that, but Arthur picked her up and held her while Hermione kissed her goodbye. Then, hardening her heart, she took powder from a bowl on the mantle and stepped into the floo.

"Severus Snape's rooms, Hogwarts."

A number of fireplaces flashed by in a dizzying whirl, and then she was back from where they had come.

But she was not alone, as she had expected.

"You…"

Cavan turned from where he had been standing by Severus' bookshelf. He didn't seem surprised to see her.

"Yes, me."

Hermione bristled. She pulled her wand out and took a step closer to him. "Why?"

He blinked, as though in honest confusion.

"I'm inclined to ask the same," he said sharply. "Hermione, you've been covering for him." He threw his arms wide. "In fact, I struggle to see a reason why I shouldn't report you as well."

"What- Me?" She almost laughed in disbelief. "I was the one who mentioned the bookkeeping record to you in the first place! You don't understand anything, do you?"

Cavan scoffed. "I daresay I understand quite a lot," he said. "Don't you know what the Dark Mark signifies?"

Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. If she couldn't convince Cavan, she certainly couldn't convince the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Cavan," she said evenly. "Of course I know. I fought in the war with Harry and I have the scars and an Order of Merlin to prove it."

"I'm aware," said Cavan, spreading his hands, "but you're impeachable in this case, aren't you?" He watched her closely. "You love him, I know you do."

She stared in open-mothed surprise. No one -not even herself- had yet put into words what it was she was feeling.

"I…"

"It isn't a crime," said Cavan mildly, "but it muddles your thinking. He knew all along that we were searching for the culprit. Don't you think he would have come forward if his intentions weren't malign?"

"No, actually." Hermione took a deep breath. "He wouldn't."

"He wouldn't'?" Cavan snorted. "And why, exactly, is that?"

"He doesn't trust us, that's why." Hermione gestured to the room around them. "Don't you see? He was a double agent for Dumbledore, that's why he has that mark. He's always kept his secrets close to his chest, you can't expect him to break that life-long habit."

"A double agent?" He frowned. "The court knows this?"

"Yes." Hermione looked around the room impatiently. "Not everyone is convinced, I'll admit. He was also Voldemort's potion-maker and he played his part well. But he gifted Harry some of his memories when he thought he was going to die from Nagini's bite. Harry hated Severus before, but those memories, they made him change his mind completely. Even Voldemort knew the truth in the end."

"He was bitten by Voldemort's snake? Is that what those scars are?" Cavan rubbed a hand over his brow. "Nevertheless, how can you be so certain?"

"Because I know him." Hermione huffed. "And because I'm going to find proof, right here and now." She made a movement with her wand. "Don't you dare get in my way, Cavan, because I won't be gentle if you do."

She turned her back on him resolutely and walked over to the kitchen cabinets. She started with the bottom drawers, going through Severus' collection of tea and biscuits, his sparse cutlery, the stirring rods and ladles, and the stacks of clean cauldrons he kept in his cupboard.

After some time, she felt a presence by her side.

"They've been pretty thorough." Cavan bent down to look beneath the small sink. "Don't you think he'd keep incriminating evidence in his bedroom rather than here?"

"No." Hermione straightened to look through the upper cupboards, which mostly seemed to contain cups and saucers. "This is where he brews." She glanced at him sideways. "Can you check for invisibility charms?"

"Yes." Cavan flicked his wand. "The Aurors would know how to do that just as well as I do though." There was a clatter of metal from down in his cupboard. "There's nothing here," he said. "What are we looking for?"

"Everything potion-related." Hermione turned to the small shelf behind her back, where Severus kept an assortment of ingredients. They appeared common enough on a first glance. "Vials," she murmured, "flagons, anything that seems experimental."

There were several flasks of a substance that wasn't labelled on the shelf and she opened one to sniff it. It smelled like a regular Pepper-Up.

"These are just clean cauldrons," said Cavan. He straightened from beneath the sink. "I'll go through the bedroom. If he has anything dangerous in here, I'm sure he'd keep it somewhere Rose can't accidentally find it."

"You're probably right." Hermione sighed. She felt a pang of disappointment along with a creeping desperation. "I was so sure…"

"The Aurors are very skilled at this," said Cavan. "They would have taken all the evidence they could find. Don't you think it's better that he explains himself directly to them? I trust they'll see reason if he tells them what he's done. Keeping forbidden ingredients for benign experiments warrants a fine, of course, but it hardly justifies imprisonment..."

"Wait a moment." Hermione turned on her heel. "You said those were clean?"

She bent down to the cupboard beneath the sink, which Cavan had just vacated.

"Yes…" He frowned. "I think so, they-"

"No." Hermione extracted a pile of cauldrons. "The clean ones are in that drawer. These ones are used."

Cavan joined her on the floor. "You're right." He picked up a battered half-pint pewter. "Looks like he brewed Pepper-Up." He frowned. "A lot of it…"

"This isn't Pepper-Up." Hermione pointed at the barely-visible crust on the rim. "See that? The shimmer is from unicorn hairs."

"Okay..." Cavan scratched his head. "So he's tweaked it. I'm not surprised, he seems critical of the established recipes."

"Wait." Hermione jumped to her feet and extracted one of the vials from the shelf behind them. She poured some of it into the used cauldron.

"Isn't Pepper-Up supposed to be orange?" asked Cavan uncertainly. "It seems a shade too red…"

"Like a Blood-Replenisher." Hermione met his eyes. "Do you think it's an antidote?"

"Against what poison?" Cavan shook his head. "Angel's trumpet? But why would he put Pepper-Up in there?"

"Poison." Hermione's lips went numb. "Nagini..."

Was this what he had wanted to say to her? She had suspected, but the realisation was like a rough, physical blow. The last thing she had done was to yell at him, and to accuse and scold him. And now he was all alone in Azkaban with no more potion to help him.

He needed her now more than ever.

"Wait, Hermione!" Cavan grasped her arm as she attempted to jump to her feet. "Explain!"

"Angel's trumpet is a nerve agent," she said quickly, pointing at the rust-coloured substance. "Don't you see? This is an antidote against Nagini's poison. It counters nerve damage and blood poisoning. The Pepper-Up is just a disguise."

Cavan watched her intently. "So then he did use it for himself?"

Hermione couldn't help it. "I told you so," she said scathingly. "Severus would never-"

Cavan broke her off. "I realise that now," he said. "But what do we do? If he has already explained himself to the Aurors, and if they haven't released him, it probably means he needs a witness. Someone with the skills of a potioneer or a healer, like you. Shouldn't we contact the Ministry?"

"No."

"What?" asked Cavan sharply, but Hermione took no heed. She was already on her way to the floo, sprinting the short distance.

"Harry..."