Okay, okay, I really did it this time. The one time I really think I'm not gonna do a sequel and I do one. This is the sequel to `Eight Seconds', and like that
one, it's from Snape POV. It's short, you've been warned. P.S. when things as in single quotations '', that's what Snape's thinking.
"So, you return to us," Voldemort hissed.
'He will not hurt me, I'm too valuable to lose,' I thought to myself. It wasn't working though. The thought of what would happen if Voldemort knew I was a traitor stood out too vividly in my mind.
It had been two hours since Potter had returned from another near escape from Voldemort, this time caused by the Triwizard Tournament and Barty Crouch. I had left when I was certain that Harry would be all right.
'Why am I worried about him? Heck, I don't even like him,' I grumbled to myself. But, whether I liked it or not, I had taken the burden of securing Harry's safety on myself, and I would do what I felt was necessary to protect him from Voldemort. I briefly considered the meeting the teachers had had soon after Potter had returned.
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Madam Pomprey were good teachers, and were also very concerned about Potter's safety, but I still didn't think any of them truly understood the dangers of Voldmort's wrath. For that matter, I often felt that Dumbledore was too trusting, too ready to look for the good in people to really understand Voldemort. Sure, he'd fought Voldemort several times, but I still got the impression that he wanted to think- no, to hope, that Voldemort wasn't purely evil. In fact, the only one who could possibly understand the Dark Lord better than I did was Harry Potter himself.
Potter was noble, almost to a fault, and a very powerful wizard in his own right, but he held none of the hope and optimism that made Dumbledore such an easy target for people like me. Harry honestly understood Voldemort for what he was, and I dared to hope that once he had grown up he could banish Voldemort once and for all. And if he did, I would never have to do this, never have to put my life on the line in his place.
'Careful,' I scolded myself. 'You can't just start blaming Potter for this, you took this on yourself.' That was true, and yet I couldn't help hating Harry for the admiration he got from everyone who knew him, for that sense of power and leadership he had about him.
But the one thing I hated about him beyond all else was his lack of fear. He did not fear the Dark Lord's powers. Voldemort had tried to kill him numerous times, but Potter had yet to learn fear. And there were no excuses: Harry knew the cruelty, the viciousness of the Dark Lord as well as I did.
"Severus?" Voldemort prompted. I glanced over at him, and I was terrified. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Voldemort was impressive even without his followers, and now, in his own castle, with his followers all around him, he was a terrifying picture.
'And yet Potter faced him, alone and unarmed, and did not fear him.' The thought came unbidden to my mind, and I hated Harry for making me feel like this, like I had to be what he had grown up being.
"Yes, my Lord?" I said, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I believe that you are not faithful to our cause," Voldemort said carelessly, and I almost passed out then and there. But somehow I managed to keep my composure.
"I believe you speak of Igor Karkaroff," I said coolly. "The fool wanted me to cover for him at the Triwizard Tournament. He has fled, but I suppose you already knew that."
"You're correct in assuming I already knew about Karkaroff's treason. But don't change the subject. I woukld like to hear your excuses."
"Dumbledore has grown to trust me more and more since your disappearance. But to come when you summoned us might have compromised my position. Potter was still not back, and to much of the magical world regard him as a hero, it might not have looked good for me to disappear so soon after him."
"Perhaps. And since you are so important to our cause, I will accept your excuse. But do not fail me again."
"Yes, my Lord."
"You may leave." I apparated away, and never have I been so glad to get away. I apparated straight to the Forbidden Forest, since you cannot apparate into Hogwarts itself. I went back up to the castle, knowing that Dumbledore would be very relieved to find me still in one piece.
"He believed you?" were the first words out of his mouth. Albus had been waiting at the door, and he closed it behind him, to prevent anyone from hearing. It was late, and all students and teachers should be in bed by now, but I could think of a particular trio of students who were not above sneaking out of bed and roaming the halls after hours.
"No, I'm a ghost," I said sarcastically, and immediately felt guilty. It wasn't his fault; he didn't make me go back to Voldemort.
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I'm just so stressed out right now. He's gotten touchy, and if I wasn't so important to him, I don't know what would've happened."
"All's well that ends well," he said brightly. "I should've known you'd be tired." He grinned micheviously. "Of course, I might want to warn a certain fourth year student that you're likely to be feeling vicious during classes tomorrow." I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, I'm going to be too worried to be mean."
"Uh-huh. I think not."
"Maybe so. But can you blame me?"
"Not really. I wouldn't be doing what you're doing, that's for sure."
"'Course not. Nobody in their right mind would. Voldemort isn't an easy person to please."
"I think Harry knows," he said abruptly.
"You told him?" It wasn't an accusation, just a question.
"Moi?"
"Yes, you. Every time you say you think something, I turns out to be true, and the only way I can think of for Potter to know for sure is if you told him."
"I wouldn't be sure about that. Harry's quite smart, and he undoubtedly could have figured it out on his own."
"Could, huh? So you did tell him."
"Yes, I told him, but that's not important. He would've known anyway. He should know, I think."
"I don't," I snarled. "Voldemort doesn't ask questions. If he even thinks you're lying to him, that's it, you're history."
"Harry wouldn't do that. He doesn't like you much, Severus, and I can't say I blame him, the way you treat him, but he's not a traitor."
"Maybe not. I don't like Potter, but I don't think he would deliberately tell anyone what he knows."
"The exact reason I told him what you were."
"You're not getting it. I don't think Potter would deliberately say anything to put me in danger, but he trusts his friends, and if any of them were working for Voldemort..." I always tried not to think about that possibility, but I knew it could happen. Look at the Potters.
"Well, there's nothing we can do now, Severus. He knows, and that's it."
"I suppose," I said wearily, and, without another word, I headed upstairs to bed. It was stupid to worry, I tried to convince myself. Potter knew. So what. And despite my objections, I didn't think Harry was likely to tell anyone, even Weasley or Granger.
I didn't like Potter, but he did deserve to know. Deserve to know what I had been. I had taken it upon myself to protect Potter, no one had made me do it; no one had even suggested that I go back to being a spy for Potter's sake.
But I had made a promise to Lily and James that night, and I would not break it for the world. And nothing else mattered.
one, it's from Snape POV. It's short, you've been warned. P.S. when things as in single quotations '', that's what Snape's thinking.
"So, you return to us," Voldemort hissed.
'He will not hurt me, I'm too valuable to lose,' I thought to myself. It wasn't working though. The thought of what would happen if Voldemort knew I was a traitor stood out too vividly in my mind.
It had been two hours since Potter had returned from another near escape from Voldemort, this time caused by the Triwizard Tournament and Barty Crouch. I had left when I was certain that Harry would be all right.
'Why am I worried about him? Heck, I don't even like him,' I grumbled to myself. But, whether I liked it or not, I had taken the burden of securing Harry's safety on myself, and I would do what I felt was necessary to protect him from Voldemort. I briefly considered the meeting the teachers had had soon after Potter had returned.
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Madam Pomprey were good teachers, and were also very concerned about Potter's safety, but I still didn't think any of them truly understood the dangers of Voldmort's wrath. For that matter, I often felt that Dumbledore was too trusting, too ready to look for the good in people to really understand Voldemort. Sure, he'd fought Voldemort several times, but I still got the impression that he wanted to think- no, to hope, that Voldemort wasn't purely evil. In fact, the only one who could possibly understand the Dark Lord better than I did was Harry Potter himself.
Potter was noble, almost to a fault, and a very powerful wizard in his own right, but he held none of the hope and optimism that made Dumbledore such an easy target for people like me. Harry honestly understood Voldemort for what he was, and I dared to hope that once he had grown up he could banish Voldemort once and for all. And if he did, I would never have to do this, never have to put my life on the line in his place.
'Careful,' I scolded myself. 'You can't just start blaming Potter for this, you took this on yourself.' That was true, and yet I couldn't help hating Harry for the admiration he got from everyone who knew him, for that sense of power and leadership he had about him.
But the one thing I hated about him beyond all else was his lack of fear. He did not fear the Dark Lord's powers. Voldemort had tried to kill him numerous times, but Potter had yet to learn fear. And there were no excuses: Harry knew the cruelty, the viciousness of the Dark Lord as well as I did.
"Severus?" Voldemort prompted. I glanced over at him, and I was terrified. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Voldemort was impressive even without his followers, and now, in his own castle, with his followers all around him, he was a terrifying picture.
'And yet Potter faced him, alone and unarmed, and did not fear him.' The thought came unbidden to my mind, and I hated Harry for making me feel like this, like I had to be what he had grown up being.
"Yes, my Lord?" I said, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I believe that you are not faithful to our cause," Voldemort said carelessly, and I almost passed out then and there. But somehow I managed to keep my composure.
"I believe you speak of Igor Karkaroff," I said coolly. "The fool wanted me to cover for him at the Triwizard Tournament. He has fled, but I suppose you already knew that."
"You're correct in assuming I already knew about Karkaroff's treason. But don't change the subject. I woukld like to hear your excuses."
"Dumbledore has grown to trust me more and more since your disappearance. But to come when you summoned us might have compromised my position. Potter was still not back, and to much of the magical world regard him as a hero, it might not have looked good for me to disappear so soon after him."
"Perhaps. And since you are so important to our cause, I will accept your excuse. But do not fail me again."
"Yes, my Lord."
"You may leave." I apparated away, and never have I been so glad to get away. I apparated straight to the Forbidden Forest, since you cannot apparate into Hogwarts itself. I went back up to the castle, knowing that Dumbledore would be very relieved to find me still in one piece.
"He believed you?" were the first words out of his mouth. Albus had been waiting at the door, and he closed it behind him, to prevent anyone from hearing. It was late, and all students and teachers should be in bed by now, but I could think of a particular trio of students who were not above sneaking out of bed and roaming the halls after hours.
"No, I'm a ghost," I said sarcastically, and immediately felt guilty. It wasn't his fault; he didn't make me go back to Voldemort.
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I'm just so stressed out right now. He's gotten touchy, and if I wasn't so important to him, I don't know what would've happened."
"All's well that ends well," he said brightly. "I should've known you'd be tired." He grinned micheviously. "Of course, I might want to warn a certain fourth year student that you're likely to be feeling vicious during classes tomorrow." I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, I'm going to be too worried to be mean."
"Uh-huh. I think not."
"Maybe so. But can you blame me?"
"Not really. I wouldn't be doing what you're doing, that's for sure."
"'Course not. Nobody in their right mind would. Voldemort isn't an easy person to please."
"I think Harry knows," he said abruptly.
"You told him?" It wasn't an accusation, just a question.
"Moi?"
"Yes, you. Every time you say you think something, I turns out to be true, and the only way I can think of for Potter to know for sure is if you told him."
"I wouldn't be sure about that. Harry's quite smart, and he undoubtedly could have figured it out on his own."
"Could, huh? So you did tell him."
"Yes, I told him, but that's not important. He would've known anyway. He should know, I think."
"I don't," I snarled. "Voldemort doesn't ask questions. If he even thinks you're lying to him, that's it, you're history."
"Harry wouldn't do that. He doesn't like you much, Severus, and I can't say I blame him, the way you treat him, but he's not a traitor."
"Maybe not. I don't like Potter, but I don't think he would deliberately tell anyone what he knows."
"The exact reason I told him what you were."
"You're not getting it. I don't think Potter would deliberately say anything to put me in danger, but he trusts his friends, and if any of them were working for Voldemort..." I always tried not to think about that possibility, but I knew it could happen. Look at the Potters.
"Well, there's nothing we can do now, Severus. He knows, and that's it."
"I suppose," I said wearily, and, without another word, I headed upstairs to bed. It was stupid to worry, I tried to convince myself. Potter knew. So what. And despite my objections, I didn't think Harry was likely to tell anyone, even Weasley or Granger.
I didn't like Potter, but he did deserve to know. Deserve to know what I had been. I had taken it upon myself to protect Potter, no one had made me do it; no one had even suggested that I go back to being a spy for Potter's sake.
But I had made a promise to Lily and James that night, and I would not break it for the world. And nothing else mattered.