A/N: So I've had this idea for a Severus Snape/OC fanfiction for so long that I've finally decided to write it. This is going to be a long fic, that covers the events of the Goblet of Fire through to Deathly Hallows. I've tried to keep Severus' character as canon as possible, and this story is going to be a slow burn. I really don't think there's enough SS/OC's fics here on the site, so this is my attempt to fill the gap by writing what I would love to read.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please make sure to follow/favourite, and let me know your thoughts by reviewing. Thank you so much for reading!

Prologue:

Violetta tapped her finger against the seat, her fingertips gripping the leather. The resulting sound was a soft tap — unremarkable to those around her, but a certain way to retain her cool composure. She held her expression, her lips a pin-straight line as she looked over the court room. She was intimately aware of every muscle in her face, careful not to reveal a single emotion.

The man sitting on her right scoffed in disgust, whilst the sound of creaking metal clanged through the air. He wore a mask of anger, his lips pulled downwards, surrounded by a greying beard. His heated disgust rippled from him in waves, giving away everything in a single expression. She'd always pitied people who lacked control.

On her left, sat her husband. His dark hair was swept back from his face, his green eyes calculating, locked on the prisoner in front of him. Though his body was relaxed, his hand resting beside hers, his expression held rigid. The control he exerted was clear. Though the disgust could be read from his expression, it also held a cool indifference.

Violetta knew it was all apart of his act. He'd always been so composed in public, so afraid to reveal anything he didn't want others to know. Like her, he relied heavily on his reputation — fuelled by the power his pure-blood lineage provided him with.

She continued her examination of the room, unsurprised by the number of angered and grim expressions from the males seated around her. Only few females joined their presence, one being Rita Skeeter, who delighted in sinking her teeth into any new, tantalising information.

Igor Karkaroff clung to the front of the metal cage, his eyes wild, his hair askew and damp with grease. He appeared different to how he had in the papers only a few weeks previous. The dementors were already leaving their marks on him. She felt the urge to shiver, but quickly forced it away, retaining her mask.

"Igor Karkaroff, you have been brought from Azkaban at your own request to present evidence to this council," Barty Crouch acknowledged the Death Eater with a hard tone, his expression made of steal. Violetta had never seen him without that expression in the few years she'd known him. "Should your evidence prove consequential, the council may be prepared to order your immediate release. But at the time you remain in the eyes of the ministry a convicted Death Eater."

The name sent a shiver rolling down her spine that she repelled with urgency. She loathed every part of the name. A hidden part of her feared it. But not for much longer. The Dark Lord was gone and soon his followers would be too. Stories claimed that it was a mere boy who defeated him, but Violetta was disbelieving. The true story would never be known, at least not by her.

She didn't dare look to her husband next to her. She hoped he hadn't seen the break in her mask — the brief glimmer of fear. He had always scolded her for such things, claiming she was far safer the stronger she appeared. He had worked tirelessly to protect her through the war and now, he claimed, she had nothing to fear.

"Do you accept these terms?" Barty Crouch asked grimly.

"I do," said Igor, his voice shaking.

"What evidence do you wish to present?"

Igor leaned against the metal railings, sweat beading down his forehead, his breaths heavy, filled with exertion.

Violetta didn't dare consider the horrors he'd seen in Azkaban.

"Names, sir. There was a…Rosier," He began, clinging to the metal railing. "Evan Rosier."

An old man shuffled through some papers, before Crouch announced, "Rosier is dead."

"Dead?" Igor's eyes widened. "No…"

Mumbles echoed round the room. Violetta turned to her husband, who's eyes met hers. A silent conversation passed between them and she could've sworn his hand touched hers ever-so-slightly.

He'd never shown affection to her in public. He'd always been careful not to. That had been saved for the privacy of their own home, where they'd shared many intimate nights. Though she loathed to admit it, he knew parts of her even she couldn't possibly know. And she secretly prided in the fact that she knew him beneath his calculating exterior — knew him more than anyone else possibly could.

"If that is all the witness has to offer…"

"No! No!" Igor begged, clinging harder. "There was Rockwood! He was a spy…"

Though she was shocked to hear a name she recognised, her blank expression held.

"Augustus Rockwood?" Crouch's voice quietened in questioning, his frown deepening beneath his squared black hat. "Of the Department of Mysteries?"

Violetta hadn't known Rockwood well, only seen him in passing whilst working in the Ministry. But she knew he was highly regarded amongst the Ministry elites.

"Yes! Yes! The same," Igor exclaimed. "He passed information to you-know-who from inside the ministry itself!"

Crouch paused, analysing Igor with an expression of disscontempt. He'd always hated spies — always been so strict in his code of conduct inside and outside the ministry. Even on her wedding day.

"Very well," He said. "The council will deliberate. In the meantime you will be returned to Azkaban."

"No!" Igor's shriek filled the room, his voice raw with dehydration. "Wait! Please, please, I have more! Snape… Severus Snape."

Violetta remembered Severus Snape from her time at Hogwarts. Though she had been years younger than him, she remembered his black hair, slick with grease, his hooked nose and his hunched exterior. She'd watched as James Potter and her brother teased him and how he'd grown closer to those in her house whom shared a love for the dark arts.

He'd always hated her. Always glared at her as she spied him hidden in the Slytherin common room, hunched over a Potion's book. Always loathed that Professor Slughorn had given her, a mere first year, more praise than he'd likely ever received. She knew he'd associated her with her brother — likely wanted to torment her, to get revenge on Sirius. But he'd never acted against her. Violetta hadn't known whether it had been out of fear or kindness. No matter, she'd always scolded Sirius for teasing him.

She was more than happy, however, to see him gone by her fifth year.

It didn't surprise her that he'd been a follower of the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore rose abruptly from his seat. "As the Council is very much aware, I have given evidence on this matter. Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, but prior to Lord Voldermort's downfall he turned spy for us, at great personal risk.."

His defence of Snape did surprise her. She looked briefly to Crouch, who held up his hand to his temple, as if he'd heard this speech from Dumbledore far too many times.

"No! It's a lie!" Igor shrieked, rattling the cage like a wild animal.

Violetta glared at him, pressing her lips together. She felt her husbands hand close in on hers, imploring her to retain control.

"Severus Snape is no more a Death Eater than I am!" Dumbledore exclaimed over Igor's cries.

There were murmurs around the room, all in support of Dumbledore.

"He is still faithful to the Dark Lord!" Igor's cries persisted.

"Silence!" Crouch called, slamming a gold cylinder against the table. "Unless the witness possesses any genuine name of consequence, this session is now concluded!"

Silence fell. And Igor smirked, his eyes bright, filled with a vicious malevolence.

"Oh, no, no, no." He shook his head.

Violetta knew that look. Stubbornness. Adamance. He did not want to go back to Azkaban. Violetta knew she would be the same, in his position.

He breathed heavily. "I have heard about one more."

There were murmurs around the room again. Even Dumbledore appeared curious.

"What's that?" Barty Crouch snapped.

"A name."

"Yes?" He demanded.

"I know for a fact this person took part in the capture, and by means of the Cruciatus curse, torture of the Auror Frank Longbottom and his wife!" Igor snarled.

Her husband tensed next to her, his body rigid stone.

She turned to him with a deep frown. Her blood ran cold.

He stared ahead, anger seeping into his expression, his lip curling as he glared at Igor. His expression masked with cool fury.

"A name!" Crouch demanded. "Give me the retched name!"

"Barty Crouch!"

Gasps echoed around the room, turning their attention to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Violetta froze. Her eyes stuck on her husband next to her, who rose from his seat, his fists curled at his sides. She felt like ice. Cold, rigid ice.

He didn't even look at her. Only glared at the prisoner, his body shaking.

"Junior," Igor spat.

All eyes turned to them. Violetta couldn't move. She stared. Harder, harder. Hoping it not to be true. Her chest hurt. Ice sweeping through her body over and over.

Her husband launched forward, darting towards the door.

Violetta's eyes followed him. Cries of outrage echoed around the room. Someone knocked into her side.

Alistair Moody rose from his seat, flourishing his wand. A zap of magic darted through the air, launching her husband into the stack of papers.

Violetta continued to stare, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. Her hands shook, yet her body remained still.

A group of wizards seized him from the floor and dragged him towards the door. Her husband thrashed in their arms, his face burning with cold fury.

He'd betrayed her. Her husband had betrayed her.

"I didn't do it, Father!"

Violetta heard the lie in his voice. She heard his fear. He'd been caught.

Anger began to build at the pit of her stomach, fire burning in her veins. She felt her wand pulsate at her side, eager to be used.

He'd betrayed her. He'd worked for the very man he'd claimed to be protecting her from.

He'd worked for the man who'd vowed to capture her, brutalise her, and use her until she was broken.

She didn't want to believe it. Her heart tore at the thought of it.

She sat there, watching the scene play out ahead, like she was viewing it behind glass. But then the eyes began to turn towards her. Some filled with sympathy, others with suspicion. She felt their hot glares. The scraping of Rita Skeeter's pen echoed through the room, her eyes locked on her.

She needed to leave. But she couldn't move. She stared down at her hand, at the place where her husband's warm touch had comforted her not long ago. Her wedding ring glistened in the yellow light.

He'd betrayed her.

~ In Time ~

"Mrs Crouch—"

She pressed her lips together, loathing the sound of her own name. She wanted to snap. Scream. Cry. That name was no longer hers. And she especially did not want to her it from her father-in-laws lips.

"We have a few questions for you," Barty said, his expression grim. "As it stands, you are being accused of colluding with your husband—"

Your son. She wanted to spit.

"—and, by association, the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom under the cruciatus curse. You trial will be held on the—"

"Association?" She interrupted, her voice strangely calm. A strange coldness had engulfed her body. She almost felt like laughing. "Surely, Mr Crouch, if I am being accused of association, then you and your wife should be under trial too. After all, you are his direct family."

Barty's stern face fell, before anger pulled at his features. The unnamed man next to him looked down at the table.

Silence fell for a moment, before Barty continued, ignoring her statement.

"—Your trial shall be held on November 19th and a jury shall investigate the evidence held against you—"

"Evidence?" She raised her eyebrows. "And what that might that be? Correct me if I am wrong, but I am sure that a marriage certificate is not sufficient evidence in a trial. Do you have evidence that I was there that night? Do you have any shred of evidence that I colluded with Barty, other than my marriage to him?"

"You are accused—" His face turned red, his hands clenching at his sides.

"Then I am accusing you!" She crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. Her lips pulled into a thin line.

"Miss Black!" He shouted, rising from his seat. His arms shook at his sides. "You have two brothers who are convicted death eaters, your family are under investigation for usage of dark magic. Your family are evidence enough to accuse you! Barty may have been working on his own accord, but he was certainly working with you, influenced by you, corrupted by your clever words!"

Barty crouch had always thought less of her. He'd never trusted her, or thought of her as family, even when she'd married his son. His son had loved her and he'd scorned in their face. Yet despite everything, he still held a high opinion of his son. Still blamed this whole ordeal on her.

He was going mad.

"I will find sufficient evidence against you, by any means—" He pulled out his wand and aimed it at her, his face clouded with rage.

The man beside him, young and naive, looked away, safe from Barty's wrath.

"Do it," She spat. Standing from her chair, she looked him in the eye, her face hard, her body cold.

Barty's hand twitched—

The door slammed open.

"Am I interrupting?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Violetta turned to him with a deep, mistrustful frown. Barty looked like a deer caught in headlights.

The room flooded with light and Dumbledore trailed forwards, his hands clasped in front of him. His deep purple wizard robes billowed around his feet, his half moon spectacles perched at the tip of his nose. He looked between her and Barty, his eyes almost gleaming. Behind him, shadowed by darkness, stood a familiar figure, dressed in black.

Violetta couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Severus Snape. He was taller now and slightly broader. Though his face hadn't changed much. Shoulder length, glistening black hair curled around his sharp face, his dark eyes trailing lazily across the room. He barely even glanced at her. He looked bored, as if Dumbledore had dragged him there.

"What are you doing here, Dumbledore?" Barty snapped.

Violetta knew he hated Dumbledore. After all, Dumbledore was the one whom many praised for the downfall of the Dark Lord, and the capture of many of his death eaters. He'd also been the one who'd prevented Severus Snape's conviction. Barty had always loathed those he deemed guilty from running free. He'd never believed in redemption — nor mercy.

"I'm sure I am mistaken, but there are rumours flying around that Miss Black here is being accused by the ministry of working with Lord Voldemort, after the conviction of her husband." Dumbledore's face pulled into a soft frown. "But, as it happens, I have evidence to prove the contrary and I'm sure that nobody wishes to sentence an innocent woman."

Barty's face began to turn red once more. "Indeed, you do?" He said tightly. His lips were so thinly pressed they almost disappeared into his skin. "Well, your evidence can wait, Dumbledore, until her trial on November—"

"You surely don't wish to pursue a full trial, when I have brought my evidence here? It would be foolish to waste such precious time, when it could be spent pursuing those still at large." Dumbledore spoke so calmly. So assuredly. If he hadn't been on her side, she was sure it would irritate her.

"Fine," Crouch huffed. "Your evidence?"

"Severus," Albus gestured to the dark figure behind him, nodding his head once.

Severus Snape stepped forward, his dark cloak bristling behind him. His expression held a cool indifference, his hands clasped behind his back. If Barty hadn't been riled before, he certainly was now. His mood only appeared to darken as he looked upon the former death eater — the only one who'd escaped his punishment.

"Whilst I was never aware of young Mr Crouch's allegiance to the Dark Lord…I was in the Dark Lord's presence many a time where he expressed his desire to recruit Miss Black."

Severus' use of her maiden name surprised her, but her expression remained tightly blank.

"I know he tasked Regulus Black, her brother, with recruiting her not so long before his death. I suspect that young Mr Crouch took over this task."

Her blood ran cold at the mention of her brother. The brother she'd loved so dearly in her youth. She'd never gotten to say goodbye to him.

"And what did he wish to recruit her for? What dark magic does she possess that you-know-who did not already have within his ranks—"

Dumbledore caught her eye then. He knew — he'd always known, even during her time at Hogwarts. It was he, in fact, who'd explained it to her all those years ago. After that dreadful accident.

Voldermort had known too. It was why he'd wanted her so badly.

Violetta forced her expression blank, relaxing her body. She resisted the urge to watch Severus, as she waited. Waited for him to reveal her secret, to out her to the wizarding world. Her heart pounded, her fingers curling ever so slightly—

"Though I do not profess to knowing Miss Black well, in the time I have known her she has shown no remarkable talent—"

Violetta held back an indignant scoff, instead folding her arms across her chest.

"—in any sort of magic that would make her an exceptional candidate for the Dark Lords ranks. He always suggested new names of those he believed would join him. They were usually members of pure-blood families who were known to be part of Slytherin house in their time at Hogwarts. Though I suspect he desired her for…other reasons."

Violetta's blood ran cold at the thought of the Dark Lord desiring her. She was sure he wasn't even capable of such human habits — she doubted he'd ever desired a women in his existence. But maybe to Crouch it was believable. After all, some death eaters had been known for violating women.

"There, you see Barty. Miss Black is a victim, not a perpetrator," Dumbledore said, nodding his head in thanks to Snape.

Crouch remained silent, looking between Dumbledore and Snape. Before his dark eyes turned to her. They were like daggers piercing through her skin. Nobody had ever looked so angry at her before — as if wishing to inflict pain on her.

She knew he blamed her for everything. But how could he be so blinded? He'd always underestimated Barty, always seen him as a young, innocent boy. How wrong he'd been. He had never truly known his son — now he was paying for it. Yet he refused to believe it.

"I'm sure Severus would be willing to provide more visual evidence, if you are unconvinced?" Dumbledore suggested.

Barty's jaw clenched. "No. Miss Black—" He emphasised her name, emphasising the removal of her from his family. "—you can leave."

Then Barty stormed from the room, the young ministry worker scurrying behind him. Dumbledore calmly stepped out of the way for them both.

"Thank you for your hospitality," she snapped sarcastically, her voice following them out the door.

Silence fell in the room. She looked between Dumbledore and Snape, her lips pursed. She didn't wish to speak to either of them. In fact, she desired nothing more than to just go home. It had been a rather taxing day, to say the least.

Without a word, she grabbed her cloak from the chair and strode forward, brushing past them both. Snape appeared to tense as she passed, but Dumbledore remained as calm as ever.

Her short heels clicked against the metal floor of the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic. She was headed towards the elevator, when a voice stopped her.

"Would it be possible to have a word, Miss Black?" Dumbledore asked gently.

She spun on her heel, releasing a sigh of exasperation. "If I must, then make it quick."

Snape rolled his eyes.

She caught it mid-motion and a smirk pulled at her lips. "Good to see that you've got a new master now that your old one's dead."

Snape's eyes darkened, his lip curled. "You should be grateful — there was a cell waiting for you in Azakaban. I hear it was in-between your brother and husband. I'm sure the dementors would have relished that family reunion," he said cooly.

"Make sure to give them my best when you join them," she hissed sharply.

"Severus." Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing them both.

Snape looked vicious but he held his tongue. His fingers curled around his cloak and he pulled it towards him, as if shielding himself. To Violetta he looked like an overgrown bat curling its wings together.

She was beginning to regret ever feeling sympathy for him.

"Miss Black, I wanted to remind you that my previous offer still stands, should you ever need it," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.

Violetta remembered her meeting with him many months ago. She'd hidden it from Barty and her mother — she hadn't wanted to reveal how afraid she was. But even then she'd refused Dumbledore's help. She was even less likely to take it now.

"The Dark Lord is gone."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "But there may come a time when our world is in danger once more. Should that time come, I want you to remember our meeting."

"Is that all?" Violetta asked after a moment, her eyebrows raised.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. Whilst Snape sneered next to him.

With a false smile to them both, she spun on her heel and stormed towards the elevator. She desired nothing more than to escape the ministry as soon as she could. The excitement at being in and working for the ministry was long gone — it had always been a young and foolish reaction anyway. She doubted she'd ever want to step foot in the building again.

The elevator doors shut. Her eyes fixed on a single spot on the wall.

All she could feel was the ice in her veins. Barty's betrayal still lingered within her. As it would for many years to come…