Disclaimer: Are we really going to do this again? You know the drill. I
don't own, I wish I did, I make no money.
Note: Incredibly special thanks to Tdei who helped he get past my writers block and worked on a few parts I was having trouble with. Tdei, you are a lifesaver. You are my hero. Thank you so very much!
Dyed crimson from the furtive flames of the nearby fire, the chubby white gold bee shimmered prettily as it hung from a strand of moonlight with its iridescent wings that fluttered soundlessly against its wearer's pale skin.
Minerva McGonagall stared at it blankly. She felt like she had been brained with a wardrobe. A very large, heavy wardrobe. After half a minute, she slowly flickered her eyes to the charm's wearer's face. Her hazelnut eyes darted back to the charm.
Oh yes, she recognized it. How could she not? She saw it every year in her Pensive on February fifth.
A slow buzzing pieced the numbness in her brain as frustrated anger flooded her nerves. Her mouth twisted into a thin line as her eyes burned with rage. How dare he! Her fingers shook as she forced herself not to tear the necklace from Severus' throat. The charm slowly sagged from sight as she painfully unknotted her fingers from the glinting silver chain and clasped her hands together in her lap.
The Dumbledore charm belonged to only one Severus. Albus' Severus, not Severus Snape, the ex-Death-Eater, the Slytherin, the Severus who lived. She sat rigidly in her chair. How dare he... McGonagall was unsure whom she was addressing. Targetless, her fury surged hopelessly, seeping into her consciousness, and burning with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
Dumbledore, if it was he who gave the charm to Severus. How could he think his son can be replaced?! Voldermort, if it was he who gave Severus the charm. If it was Voldermort, Snape was a traitor. It was some sort of elaborate scheme designed to take advantage of the Headmaster's memories. Memories were only where the charm should exist. It infuriated her to see it here, especially here, in Severus Snape's possession.
Pretending that Severus Dumbledore never existed betrayed his memory, but this! Minerva tasted bile in the back of her throat.
This was desecration.
Hurt curled its spiteful claws into her abdomen.
Snape wasn't their Severus; he could never be their Severus. He could never take his place. The only thing the two even had in common was a name! Severus.
"Severus," she hissed. She glared down at Snape who, still asleep, failed to reply. Same age. Same physical type. Same name. Her lips curled into a sneer. What a coincidence. Very cute game someone was orchestrating. Well she, for one, was not going to play anymore.
She twirled her wand with the ease of a dangerously trained expert between her fingers. It was all too perfect. A look-a-like with slightly altered features for the Headmaster to become fond of. It was impossible for anyone to have found such a perfect match of the correct age; it had to be a concealment charm.
It was time to find out who Severus Snape really was. She was going to get to the bottom of all this once and for all. She was physically sick of it. Sick and revolted of playing these cloak-and-dagger games. And then, Voldermort would pay for his fun. Even if she had to hunt him down herself and strangle him with her bare hands.
"Finite Incantatem." She sat back and waited for the telltale signs of a spell being removed. To her deep annoyance, nothing happened. Something should have happened. "Finitum Terminus." Same result. She threw down her wand in disgust. This was not just a coincidence. Let others think that. She would not be foolish enough to believe that, ever again. Snape was not who he claimed to be; she would stake her life on it.
"Who are you?" she spat at Snape. She leaned forward, rubbing her temples to relieve her headache. The only sounds in the room were from the crackling fire and Snape's soft, steady breathing.
Then it came to her like a bolt of lightening. Some spells needed specific counter charms; Transfiguration spells in particular. She just had to figure out the right combination of words.
Well, either that or she could try casting a generic counter spell with a force bordering on physically damaging. She wasn't ready to resort to that just yet. The Headmaster would have her head if she caused Snape any harm and didn't have a reasonable explanation and proof to back herself up.
Ten minutes later, she still hadn't any luck. She growled low under her breath. Either the person who had performed the original spell had put in place an immensely complex counter charm, or a numbingly simple one. "Why don't you just tell me!" she yelled at Snape. He twitched in his asleep but did not wake. McGonagall scrubbed her eyes in fatigue.
"Why don't you try Finite Nox Incantatem?" McGonagall jumped, startled, and whipped around to see the Headmaster watching her, his arms folded across his chest. She hadn't heard him come in.
She was about to apologize for making so much noise when she noticed there was something different about him. Not physically though. It was in his stance. He was completely focused; the insanity-induced laughter and play were gone. Even the mystical, soft feel that surrounded him was gone. Instead he was controlled and concentrated, radiating intensity. She realized, as shock bled into the mélange of emotions she was feeling, that she hadn't seem him like this since his son died.
She shook off her confusion; here was idiot of the village, taken in by the 'lost lamb' act Snape had perfected.
"Finite Nox Incantatem?" she repeated in an acidly sardonic tone. She didn't know what he was up to, suggesting a counter charm. Could it possibly be that he knew that Snape wasn't who he claimed to be? In Merlin's name, what was going on?! Why keep up the facade then?
Dumbledore simply nodded, unperturbed by her insurgent tone. "Yes," he replied. McGonagall scoffed in disgust and turned back to Snape. She could care less right now what effect the spell the Headmaster recommended would bring. She just wanted to get away from the both of them. Away from them and the lies that they surrounded themselves in. Dumbledore's lies were to himself about Snape. Snape's lies were to everyone about who he was.
Fine, counter curse and then leave.
"Finite Nox Incantatem." It was just another counter curse, but something did happen this time that had never happened with any of the others. She stood frozen to the floor in shock and horror as she watched Snape's hair lighten and then relax into a light curl. Wrong. Oh gods had she been wrong.
Snape sighed in his sleep and turned over onto his side, causing the charm around his neck to nestle like a single brilliant star against the dark blue sheets. McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore and then back to Snape. There was that wardrobe again. She swallowed hard. Her mind was in a whirl while things began to fall into place. The one situation she had never entertained. "Is, is he-?"
Dumbledore nodded and moved away from the wall to stand next to Snape's bed, like some sort of strange sort of protector, standing watch over his fallen angel. "He is my son, Minerva."
McGonagall shook her head. This couldn't be happening. She had to be dreaming. 'Come one Minerva, wake up.' But she didn't wake up. A spell had been lifted off of Snape, it just didn't have the outcome she had anticipated. He was a different person, just not the person she expected him to be.
"You," she finally hissed, narrowing her eyes at the Headmaster, "You lied to me." Dumbledore looked at her and nodded solemnly. He was not going to even bother to deny it or try to give it some other name. He had done exactly what he had believed necessary.
"I lied to everyone, Minerva. You were no exception." The calm in his tome infuriated McGonagall. Anger rose quickly again. But this time, she had a target.
"How could you do this to us! I cared about him; we all cared about him! I was, I never want to feel what I did when I heard he was dead. But you didn't even have the decency to tell us that he was alive?!" McGonagall looked at the Headmaster, expecting an apology or at least some regret, but Dumbledore's eyes were unrelenting.
"Do want to know what really happened?" he said, his voice low, which forced her to pay attention in spite of herself and her wrath, both of which didn't want to hear his excuses or how he was going to try and justify everything.
Dumbledore didn't wait for her agreement and began without her consent. "Yes, there were two Death Eater there that night. They did kill Tammi. They did cast the Killing Curse at Severus. They missed," he said flatly. "I put a memory charm on him, altered him appearance, and left him at an orphanage. An orphanage, Minerva."
McGonagall flinched. Was that where Snape had grown up? She had never known. He was a Slytherin and therefor hadn't been her responsibility. But even later, she had never bothered to get to know him enough to him to find out.
Dumbledore pushed a satiny curl of hair out of Snape's face. "I left my baby alone with no memory to be raised by others because I couldn't protect him. I only removed the memory charm this past December." McGonagall swallowed, she had no idea all of this had been going on. And she prided herself on understanding and reading people. 'Stupid!' she berated herself 'How blind can you get?'
"You could have given him to a trusted friend," she protested, looking for any way Dumbledore could have avoided sending his son to an orphanage. Severus didn't deserve the life he had led. Dumbledore smiled at her suggestion, but shook his head. "Everyone had to believe he was dead or he would be in danger."
McGonagall bristled again. Everyone. Those who loved him and cared for him included. Only Dumbledore knew the truth. Only he got to enjoy the time he spent with Severus Snape.
"Well. That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard. We all wanted to watch him grow up, and you deprived us of that." McGonagall was about to propel herself into another fit when Dumbledore glared at her. She immediately shut up. Something instinctively told her that she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.
"I believe," he snapped, briefly making McGonagall contemplate how very much he was like Snape when he was angry (and let people know it). Or was it the other way around now? "That the staff got to watch Severus during his school years? Remember him? He was the Slytherin they all shunned." McGonagall blushed as a wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. He was right; they had Severus with them for his seven years of school. And they had ignored him, or worse, hated him.
"What about his mother?" she said lamely, looking for anyone who should have had a right to know the truth. Dumbledore actually laughed at that.
"What about his mother?" he asked without looking up as he straightened the dark colored blankets on Snape's bed.
"She didn't know the truth either?" McGonagall asked tentatively. Dumbledore looked amused.
"Do you remember the terms of our separation?" he said instead. McGonagall managed to look properly embarrassed. "It said," Dumbledore continued, "That she did not want any custody or visitation rights to Severus. Sabra had her job with the Ministry and didn't have time to look out for a two- year-old child. I was granted complete custody of Severus and told her that if she ever wanted to see her son, she was more than welcome. In the two years before his 'death' she never visited him or made any effort to contact him." McGonagall lowered her eyes and looked away. Dumbledore finished tending to Snape and then sat in the other chair.
They said nothing to each other as they watched Snape sleep. This was because McGonagall had wrapped herself in her thoughts, trying to come to terms with what she had learned. Dumbledore was giving her the time she needed.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, looking up and meeting her friend's eyes. She felt bad. Not angry or sick anymore, just sad and ashamed of how she had acted towards Snape for over two decades. She sent him a small, sad smile, knowing that she had a lot to make up for. "It's just, overwhelming."
"Not to mention embarrassing," a tired, yet still effectively sarcastic voice added. McGonagall's attention snapped back to Snape. He rolled over, being careful of his healing injuries, and with a tremble of dark lashes, his eyes swept slowly open. Dumbledore leaned over Snape, checking how he was feeling, and smoothing back dark auburn hair with unmatched gentleness.
Minerva didn't breathe. It was as if the air in her lungs had solidified into ice. Motionless, she gazed, transfixed, at the waking man as if he were the most unbelievable thing she had ever seen. Time held for an endless second as he stirred and turned his head slightly toward her.
Blue eyes. Pale sapphires that shone like a thousand fireflies in twilight and shimmered like starlight in the depths of an unknown sea. They were Dumbledore's depthless and mysterious eyes. They were Severus' eyes.
It was Severus. Minerva could not-- and would not-- doubt it. Emotions streamed through her like a cool waterfall. Among them, haunting guilt for her behavior, muted excitement for a reunion she'd thought she'd never have, detached shock at the twist of fate, but strongest was the pure, buoyant joy that welled from her heart and brightened her soul.
Severus was alive.
Minerva inhaled; she had almost forgotten she needed to breathe.
Dumbledore helped Snape sit up and lean back against the pillows and was about to hand him the goblet of water when McGonagall, no longer able to contain herself with any sense of dignity, launched herself at her young colleague, catching him in a tight embrace.
Snape squirmed in her tight hold, embarrassed and uncomfortable. When it didn't appear that she was going to let go anytime soon, he looked desperately at his father for help. Dumbledore grinned at him, amused even when Snape began to glare at him, but did move forward to remove McGonagall's hands.
"Minerva," he scolded playfully, "You're embarrassing Severus." McGonagall sat back and folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from touching him, but she sill watched him with the intensity of a prowling cat. But as she watched him take the offered water from the Headmaster, she began to cry. Alarmed, Snape looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.
"What wrong with her?" he asked. McGonagall made an effort to wipe away the tears.
"I'm so sorry," she managed, dabbing at her eyes with her Gryffindor red handkerchief, "I have treated you so badly." Snape blushed and shrugged, as though he couldn't believe that all the fuss she was making was about him.
"Forget it," he said, looking down at his hands, "I didn't make it easy on anyone. I don't blame you, for anything." McGonagall shook her head. No matter what Snape might say, it didn't excuse how she and the staff had treated him during his school days. And how they treated him even now.
"And to think," she said with a half sobbing laugh, "If Albus didn't have a meeting, I still would be oblivious"
Snape's face fell immediately at her words and he wrapped his arms around his chest as if cold. He ducked his head down, causing soft curls to tumble across his face, obscuring McGonagall's view of his face. She looked nervously at Dumbledore. Did she say something wrong?
"Minerva," Dumbledore said kindly, "Would you go to the kitchens and get something for Severus to eat?" McGonagall nodded, painfully aware of Snape's change of mood. "Take your time, you can see him later," Dumbledore added, without looking up. He didn't say another word until the witch had closed the door.
"Severus, two men from the Ministry were here to see me earlier. An alarm went off at Edmund Gabrales' home." Snape nodded and traced the pattern woven into his bedspread.
"He was a friend of yours," Snape said softly, looking up briefly. "I think I vaguely remember him." Dumbledore nodded and Snape sighed in defeat. There was only one thing left for him to do. If the Ministry had already come by, the Headmaster had to know that Gabrales was dead by the hand of Death Eaters. Now Dumbledore needed to know how and why it had happened.
"They added me to the team at the last minute. I didn't even know there was a mission until Magnus Teivel, Teivel-he was one of Voldermort's first supporters, told me to follow him. We apparated to the Gabrales' home. He was downstairs, working. Teivel told the rest of us to secure the premises. He stayed alone with Gabrales to question him. I don't know why he did that; it's not usual protocol. I tripped the alarm on the front door as soon as I was able. Teivel called for us to abort the mission and," Snape faltered and Dumbledore took his hand in silent support. Snape clung to it and took a deep breath.
"And Teivel killed him just before we left. When we got back, Teivel had to report to Voldermort that the mission had failed. Apparently, Teivel failed to get a certain piece of information from Gabrales. So Voldermort killed him." Snape shivered and Dumbledore moved closer to put his arm over his son's shoulders. Snape leaned against him, reassured by his warmth.
"The rest of the team faired similarly to me. Whatever Voldermort was looking for, he is mowing down anyone who gets in his way." Dumbledore shook his head and gently ran his hand up and down Snape's back in smooth, comforting strokes. Something big was happening-- but Tom was erasing all the clues.
"Do you have any idea what he could be after?" Dumbledore finally said aloud. Snape shrugged and burrowed closer to him, letting his mind clear, to just enjoy the fact that he had gotten through another meeting alive and that his father was here to take care of him.
"No. But it worries me."
***
The snow was still falling lightly when Harry and his two friends crossed the Hogwarts grounds wrapped warmly in their winter cloaks. It was cold out, but a pleasant kind of cold, with a freshness that makes one loathe to be inside until they have rolled and played in the snow like a carefree puppy.
The snow crunched underneath their feet and the snowflakes danced in their hair like silly fairies. Harry laughed as Hermione managed to trip Ron and send him sprawling face-first into the snow. He wanted to stay outside in the cool, clean snow and air and let the doubts in his mind rest, but he couldn't.
Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione who nodded. Beside her, Ron looked grave but determined. Sighing, Harry knocked on the door. "Hagrid? Are you there? We want to talk to you."
Next: Dream Team and Hagrid talk and the plot thickens.
Author's Note: Thank you again Tdei!
Note: Incredibly special thanks to Tdei who helped he get past my writers block and worked on a few parts I was having trouble with. Tdei, you are a lifesaver. You are my hero. Thank you so very much!
Dyed crimson from the furtive flames of the nearby fire, the chubby white gold bee shimmered prettily as it hung from a strand of moonlight with its iridescent wings that fluttered soundlessly against its wearer's pale skin.
Minerva McGonagall stared at it blankly. She felt like she had been brained with a wardrobe. A very large, heavy wardrobe. After half a minute, she slowly flickered her eyes to the charm's wearer's face. Her hazelnut eyes darted back to the charm.
Oh yes, she recognized it. How could she not? She saw it every year in her Pensive on February fifth.
A slow buzzing pieced the numbness in her brain as frustrated anger flooded her nerves. Her mouth twisted into a thin line as her eyes burned with rage. How dare he! Her fingers shook as she forced herself not to tear the necklace from Severus' throat. The charm slowly sagged from sight as she painfully unknotted her fingers from the glinting silver chain and clasped her hands together in her lap.
The Dumbledore charm belonged to only one Severus. Albus' Severus, not Severus Snape, the ex-Death-Eater, the Slytherin, the Severus who lived. She sat rigidly in her chair. How dare he... McGonagall was unsure whom she was addressing. Targetless, her fury surged hopelessly, seeping into her consciousness, and burning with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
Dumbledore, if it was he who gave the charm to Severus. How could he think his son can be replaced?! Voldermort, if it was he who gave Severus the charm. If it was Voldermort, Snape was a traitor. It was some sort of elaborate scheme designed to take advantage of the Headmaster's memories. Memories were only where the charm should exist. It infuriated her to see it here, especially here, in Severus Snape's possession.
Pretending that Severus Dumbledore never existed betrayed his memory, but this! Minerva tasted bile in the back of her throat.
This was desecration.
Hurt curled its spiteful claws into her abdomen.
Snape wasn't their Severus; he could never be their Severus. He could never take his place. The only thing the two even had in common was a name! Severus.
"Severus," she hissed. She glared down at Snape who, still asleep, failed to reply. Same age. Same physical type. Same name. Her lips curled into a sneer. What a coincidence. Very cute game someone was orchestrating. Well she, for one, was not going to play anymore.
She twirled her wand with the ease of a dangerously trained expert between her fingers. It was all too perfect. A look-a-like with slightly altered features for the Headmaster to become fond of. It was impossible for anyone to have found such a perfect match of the correct age; it had to be a concealment charm.
It was time to find out who Severus Snape really was. She was going to get to the bottom of all this once and for all. She was physically sick of it. Sick and revolted of playing these cloak-and-dagger games. And then, Voldermort would pay for his fun. Even if she had to hunt him down herself and strangle him with her bare hands.
"Finite Incantatem." She sat back and waited for the telltale signs of a spell being removed. To her deep annoyance, nothing happened. Something should have happened. "Finitum Terminus." Same result. She threw down her wand in disgust. This was not just a coincidence. Let others think that. She would not be foolish enough to believe that, ever again. Snape was not who he claimed to be; she would stake her life on it.
"Who are you?" she spat at Snape. She leaned forward, rubbing her temples to relieve her headache. The only sounds in the room were from the crackling fire and Snape's soft, steady breathing.
Then it came to her like a bolt of lightening. Some spells needed specific counter charms; Transfiguration spells in particular. She just had to figure out the right combination of words.
Well, either that or she could try casting a generic counter spell with a force bordering on physically damaging. She wasn't ready to resort to that just yet. The Headmaster would have her head if she caused Snape any harm and didn't have a reasonable explanation and proof to back herself up.
Ten minutes later, she still hadn't any luck. She growled low under her breath. Either the person who had performed the original spell had put in place an immensely complex counter charm, or a numbingly simple one. "Why don't you just tell me!" she yelled at Snape. He twitched in his asleep but did not wake. McGonagall scrubbed her eyes in fatigue.
"Why don't you try Finite Nox Incantatem?" McGonagall jumped, startled, and whipped around to see the Headmaster watching her, his arms folded across his chest. She hadn't heard him come in.
She was about to apologize for making so much noise when she noticed there was something different about him. Not physically though. It was in his stance. He was completely focused; the insanity-induced laughter and play were gone. Even the mystical, soft feel that surrounded him was gone. Instead he was controlled and concentrated, radiating intensity. She realized, as shock bled into the mélange of emotions she was feeling, that she hadn't seem him like this since his son died.
She shook off her confusion; here was idiot of the village, taken in by the 'lost lamb' act Snape had perfected.
"Finite Nox Incantatem?" she repeated in an acidly sardonic tone. She didn't know what he was up to, suggesting a counter charm. Could it possibly be that he knew that Snape wasn't who he claimed to be? In Merlin's name, what was going on?! Why keep up the facade then?
Dumbledore simply nodded, unperturbed by her insurgent tone. "Yes," he replied. McGonagall scoffed in disgust and turned back to Snape. She could care less right now what effect the spell the Headmaster recommended would bring. She just wanted to get away from the both of them. Away from them and the lies that they surrounded themselves in. Dumbledore's lies were to himself about Snape. Snape's lies were to everyone about who he was.
Fine, counter curse and then leave.
"Finite Nox Incantatem." It was just another counter curse, but something did happen this time that had never happened with any of the others. She stood frozen to the floor in shock and horror as she watched Snape's hair lighten and then relax into a light curl. Wrong. Oh gods had she been wrong.
Snape sighed in his sleep and turned over onto his side, causing the charm around his neck to nestle like a single brilliant star against the dark blue sheets. McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore and then back to Snape. There was that wardrobe again. She swallowed hard. Her mind was in a whirl while things began to fall into place. The one situation she had never entertained. "Is, is he-?"
Dumbledore nodded and moved away from the wall to stand next to Snape's bed, like some sort of strange sort of protector, standing watch over his fallen angel. "He is my son, Minerva."
McGonagall shook her head. This couldn't be happening. She had to be dreaming. 'Come one Minerva, wake up.' But she didn't wake up. A spell had been lifted off of Snape, it just didn't have the outcome she had anticipated. He was a different person, just not the person she expected him to be.
"You," she finally hissed, narrowing her eyes at the Headmaster, "You lied to me." Dumbledore looked at her and nodded solemnly. He was not going to even bother to deny it or try to give it some other name. He had done exactly what he had believed necessary.
"I lied to everyone, Minerva. You were no exception." The calm in his tome infuriated McGonagall. Anger rose quickly again. But this time, she had a target.
"How could you do this to us! I cared about him; we all cared about him! I was, I never want to feel what I did when I heard he was dead. But you didn't even have the decency to tell us that he was alive?!" McGonagall looked at the Headmaster, expecting an apology or at least some regret, but Dumbledore's eyes were unrelenting.
"Do want to know what really happened?" he said, his voice low, which forced her to pay attention in spite of herself and her wrath, both of which didn't want to hear his excuses or how he was going to try and justify everything.
Dumbledore didn't wait for her agreement and began without her consent. "Yes, there were two Death Eater there that night. They did kill Tammi. They did cast the Killing Curse at Severus. They missed," he said flatly. "I put a memory charm on him, altered him appearance, and left him at an orphanage. An orphanage, Minerva."
McGonagall flinched. Was that where Snape had grown up? She had never known. He was a Slytherin and therefor hadn't been her responsibility. But even later, she had never bothered to get to know him enough to him to find out.
Dumbledore pushed a satiny curl of hair out of Snape's face. "I left my baby alone with no memory to be raised by others because I couldn't protect him. I only removed the memory charm this past December." McGonagall swallowed, she had no idea all of this had been going on. And she prided herself on understanding and reading people. 'Stupid!' she berated herself 'How blind can you get?'
"You could have given him to a trusted friend," she protested, looking for any way Dumbledore could have avoided sending his son to an orphanage. Severus didn't deserve the life he had led. Dumbledore smiled at her suggestion, but shook his head. "Everyone had to believe he was dead or he would be in danger."
McGonagall bristled again. Everyone. Those who loved him and cared for him included. Only Dumbledore knew the truth. Only he got to enjoy the time he spent with Severus Snape.
"Well. That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard. We all wanted to watch him grow up, and you deprived us of that." McGonagall was about to propel herself into another fit when Dumbledore glared at her. She immediately shut up. Something instinctively told her that she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.
"I believe," he snapped, briefly making McGonagall contemplate how very much he was like Snape when he was angry (and let people know it). Or was it the other way around now? "That the staff got to watch Severus during his school years? Remember him? He was the Slytherin they all shunned." McGonagall blushed as a wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. He was right; they had Severus with them for his seven years of school. And they had ignored him, or worse, hated him.
"What about his mother?" she said lamely, looking for anyone who should have had a right to know the truth. Dumbledore actually laughed at that.
"What about his mother?" he asked without looking up as he straightened the dark colored blankets on Snape's bed.
"She didn't know the truth either?" McGonagall asked tentatively. Dumbledore looked amused.
"Do you remember the terms of our separation?" he said instead. McGonagall managed to look properly embarrassed. "It said," Dumbledore continued, "That she did not want any custody or visitation rights to Severus. Sabra had her job with the Ministry and didn't have time to look out for a two- year-old child. I was granted complete custody of Severus and told her that if she ever wanted to see her son, she was more than welcome. In the two years before his 'death' she never visited him or made any effort to contact him." McGonagall lowered her eyes and looked away. Dumbledore finished tending to Snape and then sat in the other chair.
They said nothing to each other as they watched Snape sleep. This was because McGonagall had wrapped herself in her thoughts, trying to come to terms with what she had learned. Dumbledore was giving her the time she needed.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, looking up and meeting her friend's eyes. She felt bad. Not angry or sick anymore, just sad and ashamed of how she had acted towards Snape for over two decades. She sent him a small, sad smile, knowing that she had a lot to make up for. "It's just, overwhelming."
"Not to mention embarrassing," a tired, yet still effectively sarcastic voice added. McGonagall's attention snapped back to Snape. He rolled over, being careful of his healing injuries, and with a tremble of dark lashes, his eyes swept slowly open. Dumbledore leaned over Snape, checking how he was feeling, and smoothing back dark auburn hair with unmatched gentleness.
Minerva didn't breathe. It was as if the air in her lungs had solidified into ice. Motionless, she gazed, transfixed, at the waking man as if he were the most unbelievable thing she had ever seen. Time held for an endless second as he stirred and turned his head slightly toward her.
Blue eyes. Pale sapphires that shone like a thousand fireflies in twilight and shimmered like starlight in the depths of an unknown sea. They were Dumbledore's depthless and mysterious eyes. They were Severus' eyes.
It was Severus. Minerva could not-- and would not-- doubt it. Emotions streamed through her like a cool waterfall. Among them, haunting guilt for her behavior, muted excitement for a reunion she'd thought she'd never have, detached shock at the twist of fate, but strongest was the pure, buoyant joy that welled from her heart and brightened her soul.
Severus was alive.
Minerva inhaled; she had almost forgotten she needed to breathe.
Dumbledore helped Snape sit up and lean back against the pillows and was about to hand him the goblet of water when McGonagall, no longer able to contain herself with any sense of dignity, launched herself at her young colleague, catching him in a tight embrace.
Snape squirmed in her tight hold, embarrassed and uncomfortable. When it didn't appear that she was going to let go anytime soon, he looked desperately at his father for help. Dumbledore grinned at him, amused even when Snape began to glare at him, but did move forward to remove McGonagall's hands.
"Minerva," he scolded playfully, "You're embarrassing Severus." McGonagall sat back and folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from touching him, but she sill watched him with the intensity of a prowling cat. But as she watched him take the offered water from the Headmaster, she began to cry. Alarmed, Snape looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.
"What wrong with her?" he asked. McGonagall made an effort to wipe away the tears.
"I'm so sorry," she managed, dabbing at her eyes with her Gryffindor red handkerchief, "I have treated you so badly." Snape blushed and shrugged, as though he couldn't believe that all the fuss she was making was about him.
"Forget it," he said, looking down at his hands, "I didn't make it easy on anyone. I don't blame you, for anything." McGonagall shook her head. No matter what Snape might say, it didn't excuse how she and the staff had treated him during his school days. And how they treated him even now.
"And to think," she said with a half sobbing laugh, "If Albus didn't have a meeting, I still would be oblivious"
Snape's face fell immediately at her words and he wrapped his arms around his chest as if cold. He ducked his head down, causing soft curls to tumble across his face, obscuring McGonagall's view of his face. She looked nervously at Dumbledore. Did she say something wrong?
"Minerva," Dumbledore said kindly, "Would you go to the kitchens and get something for Severus to eat?" McGonagall nodded, painfully aware of Snape's change of mood. "Take your time, you can see him later," Dumbledore added, without looking up. He didn't say another word until the witch had closed the door.
"Severus, two men from the Ministry were here to see me earlier. An alarm went off at Edmund Gabrales' home." Snape nodded and traced the pattern woven into his bedspread.
"He was a friend of yours," Snape said softly, looking up briefly. "I think I vaguely remember him." Dumbledore nodded and Snape sighed in defeat. There was only one thing left for him to do. If the Ministry had already come by, the Headmaster had to know that Gabrales was dead by the hand of Death Eaters. Now Dumbledore needed to know how and why it had happened.
"They added me to the team at the last minute. I didn't even know there was a mission until Magnus Teivel, Teivel-he was one of Voldermort's first supporters, told me to follow him. We apparated to the Gabrales' home. He was downstairs, working. Teivel told the rest of us to secure the premises. He stayed alone with Gabrales to question him. I don't know why he did that; it's not usual protocol. I tripped the alarm on the front door as soon as I was able. Teivel called for us to abort the mission and," Snape faltered and Dumbledore took his hand in silent support. Snape clung to it and took a deep breath.
"And Teivel killed him just before we left. When we got back, Teivel had to report to Voldermort that the mission had failed. Apparently, Teivel failed to get a certain piece of information from Gabrales. So Voldermort killed him." Snape shivered and Dumbledore moved closer to put his arm over his son's shoulders. Snape leaned against him, reassured by his warmth.
"The rest of the team faired similarly to me. Whatever Voldermort was looking for, he is mowing down anyone who gets in his way." Dumbledore shook his head and gently ran his hand up and down Snape's back in smooth, comforting strokes. Something big was happening-- but Tom was erasing all the clues.
"Do you have any idea what he could be after?" Dumbledore finally said aloud. Snape shrugged and burrowed closer to him, letting his mind clear, to just enjoy the fact that he had gotten through another meeting alive and that his father was here to take care of him.
"No. But it worries me."
***
The snow was still falling lightly when Harry and his two friends crossed the Hogwarts grounds wrapped warmly in their winter cloaks. It was cold out, but a pleasant kind of cold, with a freshness that makes one loathe to be inside until they have rolled and played in the snow like a carefree puppy.
The snow crunched underneath their feet and the snowflakes danced in their hair like silly fairies. Harry laughed as Hermione managed to trip Ron and send him sprawling face-first into the snow. He wanted to stay outside in the cool, clean snow and air and let the doubts in his mind rest, but he couldn't.
Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione who nodded. Beside her, Ron looked grave but determined. Sighing, Harry knocked on the door. "Hagrid? Are you there? We want to talk to you."
Next: Dream Team and Hagrid talk and the plot thickens.
Author's Note: Thank you again Tdei!