"Don't be stupid, Ron!" exclaimed a voice just outside the staffroom. "He won't kill me. Least, not yet."

"I wouldn't count on that," mumbled another voice.

I smiled a bit as I recognized the voices as those of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They were always fighting, particularly after Harry had become a regular visitor to my office. No, he wasn't in trouble that often; he was merely interested in any new developments with Voldemort.

I rose from my chair and walked over to the door. As I watched, the doorknob began to turn slowly, and I smirked, thinking of a trick Black had used on me when we were students. This seemed the opportune time to try it out on Potter. I reached out and grabbed the doorknob and turned it the rest of the way around, pulling on the door very hard as I did so. The effect was interesting. Harry almost fell through the door, and Weasley wasn't much better off.

"Professor, that wasn't funny!" Harry complained.

"Who said it was?" I shot back, and he grinned.

"Oh, well, I suppose it did look kind of funny, with me almost falling through the door like that." He laughed, and I surprised myself by laughing with him. Of course, a lot of things surprised me these days, not the least of which was my newfound tolerance for Harry and his friends.

I had finally realized what waste of time and energy it was to be mean to Potter, and we were in the same boat, really: both of us had more reason than anyone else to be afraid of Voldemort, but neither of us showed it. Harry truly wasn't afraid of that monster, and I had long since acquired a talent for concealing my own emotions.

"So, have you come for your detention?" I asked severely.

"Detention?" Harry responded, and the innocent look on his face almost made me burst out laughing again. Fortunately for our reputations, I managed to control myself.

"Ah yes, that detention," Harry said, cottoning on. "Yes, I decided it'd be better to get it over with."

"All right then," I said, and, with a last glance at his best friend, he walked into the staffroom. I glared at Weasley.

"He'll be a while. And he'll be in one piece when I'm through with him, naturally," I snapped at Ron. My tolerance for Potter certainly did not mean that I had to deal with his obnoxious friends all the time.

"So, what's the emergency?" I demanded, as I shut the door behind me. Harry just stood there for a moment with a undecisive expression on his face. Finally he glanced up at me, and his eyes met mine. I was the first to look away, yet another thing about Potter that continued to irritate me. Finally he spoke, and it was in a strangely subdued voice.

"What-what do you know about the Longbottoms, Professor?" I just stared at him with answering, not quite sure how much he knew, or how much he needed to.

Because I knew everything. I knew the fate of Neville's parents all too well, and the pity and compassion in Potter's eyes told me he knew as well. There was a long silence. Eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I spoke up.

"What do you think you need to know?" I asked, accenting the 'think'. What he really needed to know, what he could really handle, was probably less than what he would want to know, and I wasn't sure if I should tell him. Or what I could handle, come to that.

Frank Longbottom had been a Ravenclaw, and he'd also been one of the few people who'd judged me for who I was, not simply labeled me as a vicious Slytherin without a second thought. We'd been pretty close friends for a while, but after Hogwarts we didn't seem to talk much. We were both too busy to bother. And then, so soon after the Potters deaths, Frank and his wife had been attacked.

I'd been at the trial. I'd gotten a full report from Dumbledore at the end of Harry's fourth year, and he'd told me that Harry had seen the trial of the Lestranges, Barty Crouch, and another man whose name I couldn't quite remember now. I only thanked my lucky stars that Potter had been too caught up in the trial to start looking around, because if he had, he would've noticed me standing in the doorway of the courtroom.

"Professor?" Harry's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just . . ."

"You knew them too, didn't you?" I sighed heavily.

"Yes. I did. Frank was a friend of mine at one point, in fact. And the attack on him came so close after your mother's death . . ."

"I get it if you don't want to talk about it," he offered, but I shook my head.

"No. Running from this won't make it any better. But I must admit, I'm not looking forward to this."

"You don't have to," he said softly, and it suddenly struck me as amusing that Harry was the one reassuring me.

"It's okay. What do you need to know?" We looked at each other, both of us knowing the reason for the particular wording of my question. Despite the numerous responsibilities Harry'd been given at such a young age, he was still just a kid, and some things even I didn't want to know, much less tell him about. Some of the things I'd seen still haunted me, and I hated to think about what Harry's reaction would be.

"I want to know how Neville took it, when he was old enough to understand."

"He was . . ." My voice trailed off. It had been years ago, but I remembered everything, whether I wanted to or not. Neville was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at Remus Lupin with terrified eyes. Remus had been chosen to deliver the message and explain everything to Neville--he'd always been good with children. I had come too and was standing there in the doorway, as close to crying as I have ever been.

"Earth to Professor Snape," Harry said, a bit impatiently, waving a hand in front of my face.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've tried my hardest not to the think about that, and yet I remember every single detail."

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?" I glanced over at Harry, studying him carefully. The faraway look in his eyes told me more than I wanted to know. Because I knew he was picturing another scene--another time--a world away from us, and doing so with a clarity that both amazed and horrified him.

"Are you okay?" I asked, with a gentleness that surprised both of us.

"Who is, these days?" I didn't know the answer to his question. No one really was. Whether we wanted to be or not, we were all involved in this, and there was no way out. I knew that for a fact. I'd been trying for more years than I cared to remember to run from a past that continued to haunt me. Maybe Barty Crouch was right about something. There were some spots that didn't come off. Ever.

"There's no way out of this one, is there?" Harry didn't respond, and I realized that he couldn't answer. There were a million questions, and no answers. Only time would tell us the answers to our questions, and time was something neither of us had a lot of.

The truth of the matter was that our very lives were no longer ours. We had chosen to make the necessary sacrifice: maybe our freedom, maybe more than that. Heaven only knows how many people had fallen in freeing our world from Voldemort that last time, and this time would be worst than the last. I could feel it.

Voldemort had been thwarted once, and he would not be as easy to subdue this time. Where before the only thing driving him had been his need for power, this time he was out for revenge, and his will was not to denied. I knew that better than anyone alive. My very life was at the mercy of a mad-man, and I couldn't back out now. If I left, what would happen to rest of us? Would our world fall because of my cowardice?

I couldn't let that happen. Frank, Lily, James . . . so many others. I had lost too many people to just back off and let the inevitable occur. This was personal. Voldemort had made his last mistake. He would not ruin any more lives because of me. I refused to obey his will; I would not simply run from this.

"Neville took it like any other child," I said suddenly. "He and you are the only students in this school who know what I used to be. He hates me for it. I don't blame him."

"He doesn't hate you. He's afraid of you."

"Oh yes, he is a bit scared. I made certain of that. I had to. You see, he would just love to see me get cursed into about a million pieces. So it's either scare him so bad he's afraid to open his big mouth, or . . ." I let my voice trail off. Harry'd gotten the idea.

"What made Dumbledore trust you?" Harry asked, a bit hesitantly. "Last year, when I first found out about you being one of Voldemort's, I asked him what made him trust you. He wouldn't answer me."

"I daresay he didn't," I said absentmindedly. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to erase the pictures Harry's question had made me remember, and failing miserably.

"I'd been with Voldemort at least three years when I swapped sides. It wasn't intentional. You see, Voldemort is not an easy master to serve. I opened my big mouth one too many times, and he- well, that's not important. I fled, I couldn't stand it anymore. He'd made me do things I'd never even imagined myself capable of, and I couldn't take it.

"I apparated to my house, to find Albus Dumbledore sitting in my living room. He'd come to talk to me about the aurors: Potter, Black, Lupin, and the rest. He wanted a few potions made as well, and for some strange reason he seemed to trust me. I snapped.

"He was unarmed, that was made me hesitate. He'd never even suspected me. And instead of doing what Voldemort would've wanted me to, I did the one thing he never would've expected. I showed Albus the Dark Mark, and just waited for him to call the aurors. I didn't care. At least in Azkaban I was safe from Voldemort.

"It was then that he suggested I'd be the perfect spy. I'm a pureblood, I'd been one of Voldemort's for quite a while, and I had the will to do it. Even then I knew I was a fool for doing what I do. I knew that if Voldemort ever found out what I was. . . Well, let's just say it wouldn't be pleasant. But I did it.

"I don't think Dumbledore trusted me for a while after that, but my information was reliable, and he really didn't have anything to lose. And after my best friend died, at Voldemort's hands, he never doubted my loyalty. He did, and still does, question my methods, nonetheless. I'm way more ruthless than he is.

"But there you have it. The story of one of the greatest fools in our world."

"It wasn't stupid to renounce Voldemort."

"'Course not. What was stupid was joining the brainless git in the first place," I grumbled. A faint smile flashed across Harry's face, but he quickly sobered, remembering the subject at hand.

"Neville's been panicking lately. He's scared of Voldemort."

"Smart man."

"I know. And somehow I just keep wondering when he'll be powerful enough to try for the school itself. When he'll be powerful enough to rid the world of the last of the Potters."

"Never," I said fiercely. "He'll never lay a finger on you."

"Sirius made the exact same vow last year, and look what happened." I cringed, then hoped Harry hadn't noticed. He was right; if Voldemort decided to go after him, there was very little I could do. But I'd do my best to protect him, and I knew the top priority for the rest of staff was to keep the famous Harry Potter in one piece, as well.

"I'd better go," Harry said, and a ghost of a smile flashed across his face. "Ron'll be thinking you've gone and murdered me." I watched as he left, hating myself for caring so much. I'd despised James Potter for my entire life, and here I was risking my life to protect his son.

But what else could I do? James and Lily had saved my life, and I would not break my word.

"Will you never leave me in peace, James?" I whispered to the silent room. I already knew the answer to my own question, though. Nothing but my own stubbornness held me to my word, and if I wanted to I could just leave; I could just walk away from the world I'd sworn to protect.

But my past would not be easy to leave behind. I had too many secrets, I'd told too many lies to ever completely leave behind the life I knew. I was trapped by my own life, by a past even I couldn't lie my way out of.

And I had found out the hard way that secrets from the past could ruin the future.