This is the sixth part to my Snape series. It's a bit out of character, but it had to happen eventually, and this was the best way to do it (no, I'm not telling you what happens, you'll have to read it and find out!). You HAVE to read 'Eight Seconds' to understand some of the stuff in this one, and I would recommend rereading the ES if you don't remember all that happened. If you don't like it, don't blame me. This was written at one o'clock in the morning, alright?!
"Potter, can't you do anything right?" I demanded, exasperated.
"I don't know what I did, honest," he protested. I scowled as I looked at his potion. It was supposed to be blue. It was orange.
Of course, you couldn't really blame him for that. The threat of attack from Voldemort was growing, and frankly, Harry didn't have time to study, what with taking extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons from Dumbledore.
"Detention, Potter," I sighed, mentally reviewing all the unpleasant things I could make him do. Draco Malfoy snickered, and I glanced over at him. His father was influencing him more and more, and I despaired for his future. If Lucius told him to, Draco would join Voldemort, and once that happened there was no going back.
Well, that was not exactly true. I was the living example of that impossibility. But I knew all too well that even if Draco figured out what I had realized too late, his father wouldn't hesitate to turn him in. I knew it for a fact. Lucius had been a friend of mine for years before we'd joined Voldemort, and he'd never been the same afterward.
Where Voldemort's cruelty and vicious nature had finally convinced me to return to Dumbledore's side, Lucius had stayed true to his master, and now I barely recognized Lucius as the kind-hearted fourth year who'd rescued me from a pair of Gryffindor third years during my first year at Hogwarts.
"Professor?" said a very timid voice behind me, effectively snapping me out of my reverie.
"What is it, Ms. Granger?"
"My potion's finished, Professor." I checked out the potion quickly, and then the bell rang, not a moment too soon. I collapsed into my chair and considered what I was going to do.
Voldemort was getting suspicious, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he figured out what I was. And yet I couldn't leave. If I left, I would never have to stand before him and look into those red eyes and lie to him, knowing that every time I did I was risking death. But if I left, if I left and then something happened to Harry..... I tried not to think about that, but I couldn't help it. I never could.
* * *
"Professor Snape, I'm here for my detention," Harry sighed. It had been a few hours since I'd assigned that particular detention, but still I couldn't stop wondering what Voldemort would do if he knew I was a spy. No one had ever done it before, and I honestly had no idea what he'd do. Nor was I sure I wanted to know.
I set Potter to work and then went back to my desk and started grading papers. I couldn't keep my mind on my task, however, and after a few minutes I gave up and simply sat watching Potter as he worked. He finished finally and sat down in one of desks, obviously tired out.
"If you hate me so much, why do you keep trying to save my life?" he asked bluntly after a moment. The question surprised me, and I just sat there staring at him, wondering where he'd gotten the courage to ask me that.
"Go on, answer the question," he prompted. "I know everyone says that you hate me just because of my father, but that can't be the real reason."
"It's not," I said flatly. "I didn't like your father, that was true, but I didn't hate him that much."
"Then what's the other reason? You know, the one that all the teachers know and don't want to tell me." I sighed, trying to find a way out of answering him. I wasn't sure why the staff wouldn't tell him, or what they thought they were trying to hide, but I certainly knew the answer to his question, and it was surprising in its simplicity.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked, stalling for time.
"Because I have to know."
"And?"
"And nothing, Professor. I'm just curious."
"What if I said that that 'curiosity' was about to get you in more trouble than you've ever been in in your life?"
"Why won't you tell me?" he demanded, and I could hear a certain urgency in his voice.
"What do you want me to say?" I whispered, and for a moment my black eyes met his green ones. In that moment, I knew why Voldemort's hatred for him went beyond simple necessity. Because he was right, and I knew it. He deserved to know, and I was the only one who could tell him.
"I want the truth," he said simply.
"You don't need to know the truth."
"Who are you to decide that?" Ordinarily if he had used that tone of voice with me he'd be in detention for the next week, but this time was different. This time was different because he was right, and I hated that. There was only one other person in the world who could make me feel like this, and that was Harry's complete opposite. Voldemort.
"I swore to your mother, Potter, that I would protect you, and I will do my best to keep my vow," I said. I hadn't even realized I was about to say it, and I briefly wondered why I could risk my life by lying to Voldemort, and I couldn't lie to a fifteen-year-old boy.
"But you hated my parents," he said after a moment. "Why would you try to protect me, for their sake?"
"Because your parents saved my life, Potter. They didn't know it, but they did." And I told him everything. About the night his parents died, about my secret vow to protect him, and about my fears for his safety. He was silent for a long time after I finished.
"So that's why you tried so hard to protect me when I was first year. And last year, you were one of the ones who protected me from Barty Crouch." I smiled ruefully.
"Yes. That's right. And when you disappeared during the final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was almost panicky as Albus. Almost."
"And you were rather nice for a bit after the Tournament," he added. I laughed.
"What else could I do, especially after McGonagall threatened me with death if I so much as yelled at you for at least a week?"
"You broke your word, I oughta tell," he said shrewdly.
"Do it and die."
"I'd rather not, really. I have enough with Voldemort after my head."
"Yeah, you do," I agreed. "But I still hate you, Potter."
"And the feeling's mutual," he shot back. I rolled my eyes again.
"Get out," I ordered, and he went, trotting upstairs to Gryffindor tower. Or at least I hoped he was going up to Gryffindor tower.
I sat there for a few minutes, wondering why I'd done what I had. The things I'd said could put my life -and Harry's- in danger. But he deserved to know, I supposed. And he wasn't such a fool as to talk about what I'd said with anyone he didn't trust completely.
I had to trust somebody. The Potters had trusted the enemy, and look how that had turned out.
But sometimes the enemy is the only one who understands.
"Potter, can't you do anything right?" I demanded, exasperated.
"I don't know what I did, honest," he protested. I scowled as I looked at his potion. It was supposed to be blue. It was orange.
Of course, you couldn't really blame him for that. The threat of attack from Voldemort was growing, and frankly, Harry didn't have time to study, what with taking extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons from Dumbledore.
"Detention, Potter," I sighed, mentally reviewing all the unpleasant things I could make him do. Draco Malfoy snickered, and I glanced over at him. His father was influencing him more and more, and I despaired for his future. If Lucius told him to, Draco would join Voldemort, and once that happened there was no going back.
Well, that was not exactly true. I was the living example of that impossibility. But I knew all too well that even if Draco figured out what I had realized too late, his father wouldn't hesitate to turn him in. I knew it for a fact. Lucius had been a friend of mine for years before we'd joined Voldemort, and he'd never been the same afterward.
Where Voldemort's cruelty and vicious nature had finally convinced me to return to Dumbledore's side, Lucius had stayed true to his master, and now I barely recognized Lucius as the kind-hearted fourth year who'd rescued me from a pair of Gryffindor third years during my first year at Hogwarts.
"Professor?" said a very timid voice behind me, effectively snapping me out of my reverie.
"What is it, Ms. Granger?"
"My potion's finished, Professor." I checked out the potion quickly, and then the bell rang, not a moment too soon. I collapsed into my chair and considered what I was going to do.
Voldemort was getting suspicious, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he figured out what I was. And yet I couldn't leave. If I left, I would never have to stand before him and look into those red eyes and lie to him, knowing that every time I did I was risking death. But if I left, if I left and then something happened to Harry..... I tried not to think about that, but I couldn't help it. I never could.
* * *
"Professor Snape, I'm here for my detention," Harry sighed. It had been a few hours since I'd assigned that particular detention, but still I couldn't stop wondering what Voldemort would do if he knew I was a spy. No one had ever done it before, and I honestly had no idea what he'd do. Nor was I sure I wanted to know.
I set Potter to work and then went back to my desk and started grading papers. I couldn't keep my mind on my task, however, and after a few minutes I gave up and simply sat watching Potter as he worked. He finished finally and sat down in one of desks, obviously tired out.
"If you hate me so much, why do you keep trying to save my life?" he asked bluntly after a moment. The question surprised me, and I just sat there staring at him, wondering where he'd gotten the courage to ask me that.
"Go on, answer the question," he prompted. "I know everyone says that you hate me just because of my father, but that can't be the real reason."
"It's not," I said flatly. "I didn't like your father, that was true, but I didn't hate him that much."
"Then what's the other reason? You know, the one that all the teachers know and don't want to tell me." I sighed, trying to find a way out of answering him. I wasn't sure why the staff wouldn't tell him, or what they thought they were trying to hide, but I certainly knew the answer to his question, and it was surprising in its simplicity.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked, stalling for time.
"Because I have to know."
"And?"
"And nothing, Professor. I'm just curious."
"What if I said that that 'curiosity' was about to get you in more trouble than you've ever been in in your life?"
"Why won't you tell me?" he demanded, and I could hear a certain urgency in his voice.
"What do you want me to say?" I whispered, and for a moment my black eyes met his green ones. In that moment, I knew why Voldemort's hatred for him went beyond simple necessity. Because he was right, and I knew it. He deserved to know, and I was the only one who could tell him.
"I want the truth," he said simply.
"You don't need to know the truth."
"Who are you to decide that?" Ordinarily if he had used that tone of voice with me he'd be in detention for the next week, but this time was different. This time was different because he was right, and I hated that. There was only one other person in the world who could make me feel like this, and that was Harry's complete opposite. Voldemort.
"I swore to your mother, Potter, that I would protect you, and I will do my best to keep my vow," I said. I hadn't even realized I was about to say it, and I briefly wondered why I could risk my life by lying to Voldemort, and I couldn't lie to a fifteen-year-old boy.
"But you hated my parents," he said after a moment. "Why would you try to protect me, for their sake?"
"Because your parents saved my life, Potter. They didn't know it, but they did." And I told him everything. About the night his parents died, about my secret vow to protect him, and about my fears for his safety. He was silent for a long time after I finished.
"So that's why you tried so hard to protect me when I was first year. And last year, you were one of the ones who protected me from Barty Crouch." I smiled ruefully.
"Yes. That's right. And when you disappeared during the final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was almost panicky as Albus. Almost."
"And you were rather nice for a bit after the Tournament," he added. I laughed.
"What else could I do, especially after McGonagall threatened me with death if I so much as yelled at you for at least a week?"
"You broke your word, I oughta tell," he said shrewdly.
"Do it and die."
"I'd rather not, really. I have enough with Voldemort after my head."
"Yeah, you do," I agreed. "But I still hate you, Potter."
"And the feeling's mutual," he shot back. I rolled my eyes again.
"Get out," I ordered, and he went, trotting upstairs to Gryffindor tower. Or at least I hoped he was going up to Gryffindor tower.
I sat there for a few minutes, wondering why I'd done what I had. The things I'd said could put my life -and Harry's- in danger. But he deserved to know, I supposed. And he wasn't such a fool as to talk about what I'd said with anyone he didn't trust completely.
I had to trust somebody. The Potters had trusted the enemy, and look how that had turned out.
But sometimes the enemy is the only one who understands.