Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations belong to J.K. Rowling and her team of publishers, including Bloomsbury and Scholastic. I don't make a penny out of this. The plot's mine, and so are one or two other things *Grins* so if you want to archive, please e-mail me.

Author's Notes: I feel I should warn you there will be only two more chapters after this one. My muse, Ceri and I are plotting out a possible sequel, but I want to wait until OotP comes out before I say anything definite. Thanks, as ever, to my dedicated betas Ria and Big Momma. This chapter is dedicated to…Not sure actually. I think I'll dedicate to the innocent Iraqis whose homes are being bombed at this moment. Just take a moment to be thankful you know you've got a roof over your head, and it's going to stay there. I like to wax political sometimes! Please R&R.

***

The Verdict

'Bang!'

The now-familiar sound echoed through the already-silent courtroom. The witches and wizards in attendance had sat in a kind of tense silence for the last ten minutes, with only the occasional cough or nervous whisper to break the quiet. Harry, who had come back in twenty minutes early, had spent his time studiously avoiding Snape's gaze and trying to think of the worst possible thing that could happen. So far he had come up with Snape being given two life sentences, yelling across the court that he had absolutely no feelings for Harry and finishing with Draco Malfoy breaking from his nurse's care, simply to stand and laugh at Harry's misfortune. These were not comforting thoughts.

"Would the spokes person of the jury please step forward?" Fictus said.

A middle-aged witch in scarlet robes stood from the front bench and walked into the centre of the amphitheatre. She smiled nervously at Harry (making Harry wonder if he knew her from somewhere, or she was just smiling at him for no good reason), and turned to face Minister Fictus.

"Has the jury reached a decision?" he asked.

She nodded slightly. "Yes."

"Is this decision unanimous?"

"It is."

Fictus cleared his throat. "To the charge of being a Death Eater at the time of Voldemort's demise, how do you find the defendant?"

There was a pause.

"Not guilty."

Harry blew out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. His eyes flicked to Snape, who appeared to be doing the same thing. One down…

"And to the charge of using an Unforgivable curse against a fellow wizard, how do you find the defendant?"

Another pause. This one seemed, to Harry, to last longer. His gaze shifted focus from the jury's spokeswoman to Snape.

"Guilty."

Harry couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He could just watch as Snape's eyes closed and his face fell into a frown of foreboding. Had the background not faded into white noise in his mind, he would have been grateful to the gasps and comments of surprise. Were his eyes to concentrate elsewhere in the room, he would have seen Ron's satisfied smirk. But they weren't.

Harry breathed again, and looked at the floor. He had failed.

"Are you agreed on a suitable punishment?" Fictus asked, once the court had quietened down.

"We have decided that, as the act was in partial self-defence and partially for a greater good, the sentence will be greatly reduced from the normal life-time period. We feel that a sentence of two months in Azkaban is suitable for these particular circumstances."

Fictus nodded. "Agreed." The spokeswoman smiled almost apologetically at Harry before walking briskly back to her seat. Harry didn't notice. "Will the defendant please rise?"

Snape stood slowly, the gold chains on the chair lengthening to accommodate the movement.

"Professor Severus Aquilla Snape – I, Harold Fictus, Minister of Magical Law Enforcement, do hereby sentence you to two months imprisonment in the legal holding institution of Azkaban. That is the final word of this court." He raised his wand again, and it emitted a Bang of finality.

Harry pressed his head up against the bars. He hated this separation, but it couldn't be helped. Once a criminal had been convicted, another magical person would not be allowed to be within a holding cell with them. Maybe at Azkaban, but not at a place as easily broken out of as a holding cell.

Snape's hand rested on the bar to the right of Harry's face, his head lowered.

They were silent for a long time, before Harry spoke, "I've failed you. I'm so sorry, I've failed you." He felt frighteningly close to tears, and so gripped the bars even tighter to take his mind off the lump in his throat.

Snape's head shot up at this. "No." His frown was heavy, deepening the lines of his face and making him seem older. His hand shifted from the bar to Harry's cheek, gently brushing his fingers over the soft skin. Harry's eyes met his with some trepidation. "No, you haven't failed me, Potter. No where near."

"But…But you have to go to prison, and it's my fault."

Snape made a half-hearted attempt to smile through his frown. "Balderdash. If you hadn't stepped forward, I would be sent to Azkaban for a lot longer than two months."

"I should have done better. I should have…called more witnesses or something-"

"Harry."

The sharp use of his first name made Harry stop. Snape took a step closer to the bars and placed a hand on each side of Harry's face, forcing the younger man to look directly into his eyes.

"There was nothing you could have done. This was the absolute minimum sentence I could have received. Had my own parents been deciding parties on the jury, I would not have done better. I will not allow you to wallow in self-pity for my sake. I'm not worth it."

Harry smiled, and placed his hands over Snape's. "I think you are."

Snape smirked. "And you have always been an excellent judge of character. If I may draw your attention to your former best friend…"

"Alright, I get the point. I still think you're worth it."

Severus rested his forehead against Harry's. "And why might that be, Mr Potter?"

Harry just smiled, and tilted his head to the right as Snape did the same. Their lips met somewhere in the middle and moulded together, fitting perfectly. They paused there for a moment. Harry's eyes fluttered open and closed, and he smiled against the other's lips. He felt Snape do the same before they each pressed closer and kissed softly, each tentative, each wondering the other's reactions. Neither made a move to deepen the kiss, and when they stopped it was only to open their eyes and gaze at the other.

"We will discuss this at a later date, I think." Snape growled softly against the other's lips.

"I think that could be wise," replied Harry. His breath was coming rapidly, and he knew he must be grinning like an imbecile.

Snape looked rather amused himself. "By that I meant you should leave, Harry, and let me get on with my sentence in peace."

Harry's smile fell, and he stepped quickly away from the bars. "Of-of course. Sorry." He turned to leave.

"Potter?"

Harry paused, waiting for a witty parting remark.

"Come here."

Harry turned to look at Snape again. "Why?"

Snape allowed himself a smirk that he had previously reserved for making Lucius horny when he was angry. "Because I'm not going to see you for two months and want something to remember you by."

Harry smiled softly. Snape's head had not moved from the bars, and Harry now stroked the back of his hand down the older man's face – an action he had dreamt of performing for the last four years. The didn't so much end, as melt into Harry drawing himself forwards into another series of short, hot kisses.

"Will that do?" Harry asked.

Snape sighed melodramatically. "I suppose it will have to."

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

"I will survive."

Harry's smile fell into a guilty grimace. "I really should go."

"Yes, you should."

Harry's gaze fell to the floor. "Will you think of me?"

"Of course I will, you idiot."

The sharp retort made Harry smile. "I'll be there when they let you out." He brushed his lips against Snape's once more, before backing away. "See you in two months."

Snape just nodded, a faint smile mixing with a look of foreboding.

***

Harry removed three bottles of beer from the fridge and returned to the main sitting room. He handed two of them to Hermione and Bill.

"Cheers," he said, raising his bottle and touching it to the other two before tipping it to his lips.

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively. "You're not too upset, are you? I mean, this isn't a very clever way to get rid of us so you can drink yourself into a stupor and wake up in a puddle of your own vomit, is it?"

"No, Hermione. This is a celebration of the fact that Severus doesn't have to spend his next fifty birthdays with Dementors." He grimaced. "But thank you for the imagery."

Hermione gave a small smile and tipped the bottle to her own lips. "Well, that's alright then, I suppose. So long as you're not desperately unhappy." She wrinkled her nose at the taste of the beer, and flicked her wand at the bottle to turn it into butterbeer.

"Was Professor Snape alright?" Bill asked.

Harry nodded. "He was surprisingly optimistic." Harry smiled into his bottle as he took another swig.

Hermione smiled brightly. "He'll be back in time for the second half of Autumn term! That should make him happy."

Bill and Harry stared at her, each shaking their heads slowly. "How quickly she forgets," Bill remarked.

"Hermione, whatever gave you the impression that Snape enjoys teaching?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked slightly indignant. "Well, he might not like teaching, but he likes Hogwarts, doesn't he?"

The boys gave each other a glance that said, 'clueless – completely clueless', and went back to their drinks.

It was not long before both Hermione and Bill agreed that it had been a long day, and they ought to leave Harry to himself. Once they had gone, however, he did not move from his position in the squishy leather armchair. He stared thoughtfully at his half-full bottle of beer, swirling the contents slowly and watching the froth appear and disappear. It was not often that Harry had contemplative moments – but this was one of those rare occasions. He sat and simply pondered what on earth could possess a clever man with a good heart to join a cult of dark wizards.

This question was simply answered in two words. Love. Ambition. Harry suspected that Lucius was already mixed up with the Death Eaters when they first met, and had some hand in persuading Snape into following his lead. Furthermore, Voldemort had a clever way with words. He could easily persuade someone who had been abused and ignored, as Snape had, that his route would lead to power over those who had wronged him.

But then, what led Snape to leave? This was a much harder question for Harry to answer.

It took Harry a whole five minutes before he remembered that there was a way he could find out. He stood quickly and, taking his bottle of beer with him, walked into the bedroom. He flopped on the lumpy double bed and pulled the worn leather diary from the bedside table. His eyes watched the dates more carefully as he flicked through the diary this time, watching out for a date that might show him what he wanted to see.

The pages stopped, almost of their own accord, at the 24th July 1979. Harry shrugged in mild acceptance, and took his wand from his sleeve. He pointed it to the page. "Revello!"

As usual, the diary's energy coursed through his blood system for a moment, searching for the genes that tied him to Snape. Once the diary was satisfied, sketched black lines began to trickle over the page, forming figures and objects. They eventually formed two men, one seated and looking sullen, his long hair partially covering his face; the other, standing in long, flowing robes with his hands folded in front of him, with a familiar benign smile gracing his lips. Harry recognised both figures almost immediately as Severus and Professor Dumbledore. As the black lines were slowly filled with colour, he also recognised the room they were in as the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

The figures in the book began to move, and Harry watched and listened silently…

"So, you leave us at last, Severus."

Snape raised his head slightly. "As do the rest of my year group."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, and his face held an expression that implied that wasn't what he had meant at all. "Yes. Yes, so they do. And what are your plans?"

"I-I have been offered a placement by Lucius Malfoy's father. He has some private business, which requires a skilled potions master. He thinks I would be suitable."

"And do you think you are suitable for this, Severus?" Dumbledore looked directly at the boy over his half-moon spectacles.

Snape swallowed a lump in his throat. "I think…that I should at least give this avenue a chance. I think it suits me."

"I do not." Dumbledore's face was suddenly very serious, as he sat in the seat on the other side of his desk.

Snape's eyes fell to his lap, where his hands twisted together. "It is a great opportunity. Mr Malfoy is a very powerful man, and I am well suited to potions…"

"I was not referring to your job as a potions master."

Snape looked up from beneath long eyelashes. His voice lowered, as though he was afraid someone else might be watching. "You know? I mean, about…" His hand brushed his left arm subconsciously. Dumbledore just nodded. "But how?"

"That is not important. What is, is that I do not think you have thoroughly thought this decision through."

Snape straightened slightly. "I can make my own decisions, Professor. This route will buy me power, and everything else I have always wanted."

"But at what cost, dear boy?"

Snape made no reply, but stared steadfastly at a point over the headmaster's shoulder. "May I please leave now, Professor?"

"Dumbledore sighed heavily and, removing his spectacles, rubbed his eyes. "Yes. Go and do whatever you feel you must do."

Snape rose and walked briskly towards the door.

"Only, Severus?" Snape paused but did not turn. "Remember that you are always safe and welcome at Hogwarts. We will never turn you away."

Snape inclined his head slightly, and left.

***

The lines and colours faded, until the page was left blank. Harry remained silent, but began to flick through the pages again, hoping that the diary would once again let its judgement be known.

Harry got a feeling at a particular page. He skimmed the date, January 2nd 1980, and placed his wand tip to the page. "Revello!"

Harry supposed that the diary must have warmed up, or something, because the lines sketched themselves a lot quicker this time. The scene was very similar – Professors Snape and Dumbledore sat in the head master's office. Only this time Snape sat in an old pair of jeans and an old sweater. He leant forwards on the desk, with his chin resting on his hands, looking devastated.

Dumbledore placed a hot mug of warm chocolate in front of the other man, and sat in the seat opposite him. "Drink this, Severus," he said. "It will settle you nerves."

Snape glanced at the mug, and blew away the steam absently. "Thank you," he croaked.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape looked scared for a moment, before his face relaxed into its usual mask of cold contempt. "What is there to tell? I signed up for a group that kills and tortures people. I was an idiot. Now I should be punished."

Dumbledore sighed, holding back on the temptation to say 'I told you so'. He sensed there was more coming.

"I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. That man was standing there, and his children and his wife were watching me. Lucius handed me my wand and told me to do it. I couldn't…I just couldn't do what they wanted…I don't want to kill people, or watch them get raped or tortured…I just wanted to be with Lucius…"

Dumbledore had moved to Snape's side without him noticing, and now wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder as he dropped into the other seat. "It's alright, Severus."

"No it's not. Now they know I don't want to be one of them, and they will come after me and kill me."

"Not while you are within Hogwarts grounds. I will not allow that to happen." Dumbledore's voice was kind, but firm.

Snape turned his face to look at his former teacher. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you taking me back? Don't you think I could be a spy, or planning an ambush or something?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I am taking you back because I don't think you ever truly wanted to go. I am taking you back, because every one of us makes a bad decision at some point in our lives – and I think this was yours. I do not think you are plotting against me because I know you, Severus, and I know what you are and are not capable of. You are not capable of being disloyal to someone you respect."

Snape smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"The real question is, where do we go from here?"

Snape nodded. "I can't leave the school. Their spies are everywhere. I would be found within an hour."

"There is no question of you leaving Hogwarts. You will be acting apprentice to Professor LeStrange – who between you and I, will be leaving my employment at the end of the academic year. You will then take over her position."

"But what about the Death Eaters?" Snape asked.

"That will have to be thought about more closely." Dumbledore smiled briefly. "Severus, do you think it would be possible to return to them, or just to Lucius – even to owl him? Let him know that you are not capable of killing and torture, but that you have set up a very interesting position at Hogwarts that would allow you inside information."

Snape nodded. "You mean, you want me to…To relay information on their movements to you?"

"I realise it is a large favour to ask, but your contribution to the cause would be invaluable. Could you do this for me?"

Snape sighed heavily. "I could, but I must request one thing from you: you may ask me about the Dark Lord, you may ask me about the Death Eaters. I must request, however, that you not ask me about Lucius Malfoy."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "The information that you give me will be purely voluntary. If you choose to omit certain tid-bits of information, there is nothing I can do to stop you."

Snape gave a very small smile, and extended his hand. "You have a deal, Professor."

Dumbledore took the hand, smiling. "Albus, please. You are part of my staff now, Severus. Not my student."

***

Harry closed the diary, and smiled softly. "So that's how it happened." He replaced the book back on his bedside table, and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

His mind eventually drifted to the kiss. The kiss. He smiled softly, closing his eyes and remembering the feel of Severus' lips against his.

It was not long before Harry had fallen asleep, and dreamt of tall, raven-haired men in faded jeans with soft lips.

***

AN: You've read, now go review. And please, no flames for putting Snape in prison. It couldn't be helped. Just be thankful I let them have a quick snog first!