Disclaimer: I do not own the English language (Webster?). Harry Potter also does not belong to me, otherwise I would be very rich (JK Rowling!). The song "Halo" is also not my property (Oleander). So what in this fic *do* I own, might you ask? Not much.

Author's Note: You know that point during the school year, usually very close to summer when your brain sort of shuts down to anything that isn't fun, and you no longer give a fuck as to what your grade might be (as long as you don't fail) and consequently, you write fanfic all night instead of studying for your two most difficult finals the next morning? That's me, right now. Hooray for fanfiction! Down with finals!!

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*And it's always little things*

*That to the surface breaks*

Another useless beaker shattered against the stone wall of the dungeon. Severus was panting by now, sweat rolling in large beads off of his face to soak into his wool robes. If he had to bow to that fucking bitch one more time...

"Severus." Minerva's voice was sad and even. "Calm yourself." Snape snarled at her, his anger already deflating. He glanced at her, took in the stark lines around her mouth and nose now that she was no longer pretending, the sagging line of her shoulders, and wordlessly opened his arms. She came to him, hands against his chest as he cradled her. She began to cry.

"Shhhh. Minerva, it's not your fault. There's nothing else you could have done." he looked down at her. "What was it this time?" his voice was soft and gentle, inviting confidence.

"Just some poor Muggles. Then we retired to the Play Room." Severus repressed the shudder elicted by the mention of dreaded room.

*The comfort in the pain*

*The fear behind the smile*

___________________________

Severus was lying on a bed, face down, as the red-hot tip of a wand was drawn across his back in lazy patterns. He bit into the bedcovers to avoid crying out as his flesh sizzled. A feminine giggle rang out as a whimper escaped him, and he clamped his jaw even more fiercely around the eiderdown.

"It's so much fun to break the strong ones, don't you think, my dear Minerva?" the Transfiguration Professor's voice in reply was thick with Scottish accent and lust.

"Oh indeed. You're such an artist, Narcissa. It's a pity we have to heal these up." a gentle finger meandered across the burns and Severus took comfort in the pain of the friendly touch. He could hear the smile in her voice, saccharinely sweet as she gazed at Narcissa. Not a trace of Professor McGonagall's fear and disgust shone through her perfect mask of disguise.

____________________________

*Lose along the way*

*The things we leave behind*

Minerva was still softly crying as Severus eased back into the present. His own position within the Death Eaters was minor. Voldemort, in recognizing the inherit ability of many of his followers' wives to manipulate and scheme and offering them the power, had subsequently doomed the male Death Eaters to be grunts and playtoys of the women. Like spotted hyenas, the women controlled everything. He had to admit, they were good. Better than ninety-nine percent of the men (excepting himself, of course), they were powerful and just as cruel as the men had been. Voldemort was rising to new heights of power as a result of their cunning.

Severus was a minor spy, inserted for the main purpose of a failed attempt to rouse the men into a rebellion, inciting violence within the ranks of the Death Eaters. Unfortunately, the men were kept drunken and happy with captured Muggles, or were too cowed by the forceful females they now suffered under both at meetings and at home, to even contemplate regaining their former power. Only a few, Malfoy, LeStrange and Parkinson mostly, retained enough pride and brains to resent the power their women held over them.

*Along the precipice*

*Are things we should not hide*

*And I'm the first in line*

Thus, Minerva had volunteered for the position of spy in the higher ranks. The Order of the Phoenix had accepted without blinking an eye, but Severus knew they had no idea of how it drained Minerva to pretend to be so evil. She was a Gryffindor to the core, and maintained her persona only by virtue of her acting talent, polished in the many plays she had performed in her younger years, before she settled down as a Professor. Voldemort, as grandiose and narcissistic as he had become, was immediately taken in by her offer to spy for him and her apparently virtue (she was a Gryffindor, afterall), and of course her willingness to shamelessly flatter him. He would tolerate no words against his right hand woman.

*There's an ache around my heart*

*Dragging me down*

*Beneath the waves in silence I fall*

"Is there anything you aren't telling me, Minerva?" he probed.

"This weekend, Narcissa has organized a "women's retreat". Voldemort has asked me to attend to spy on her. He's suspicious of her loyalties." the Scotswoman snorted briefly. "It will be an entire weekend of *endless* fun, both with the Muggles she's sent Lucius out to find, and with many of the men." her sarcasm was belied by the tears on her face. Severus hugged her more tightly.

"Minerva, you are one of the strongest people I know. You can do this, I swear to you. You can do this. For your students. For your neice. For your future grandneices and nephews." She straightened, swiping the tears off of her wide face with the sleeve of her robe, and Severus released her.

"Thank you Severus."

"For what?" he was puzzled.

*There's a halo above my head*

*Spinning me round*

*Cuz I don't know if I'm alive or dead*

*There's a dagger in my head*

*Bleeding my dry*

"For reminding of the things I'm fighting for." she ironed out her face, adopting the cheerful-yet-stern expression of Professor McGonagall. She looked younger and more innocent, somehow, though most of that innocence had been banished at her initiation. She patted him on the arm. "Thank you. I don't know if I could do this without you." she left before Severus became embaressed. From the next room, a muffled curse rang out.

"Severus?" a tousled black head stuck itself around the door.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Who were you talking to?" the boy, dressed only in his boxers, wandered out of the bedroom to sit next to the fire at Severus's feet.

"Minerva. She was informing me of the detention of one of the Slytherin first years."

"Oh." Harry was quiet, and Severus began to worry that his lover suspected the lie. Then he laughed inwardly. He was becoming paranoid.

Severus stared into the fire, allowing Harry to lean back against his legs, and thought about nothing in particular for the rest of the day.

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Thank you for reading! Reviews, suggestions, comments, even flames are welcome.

Should I continue? I think there is more to be said, but then again it could stand alone. Please let me know what you think! (translation: Don't make me pull out my thumbscrews!!)

!SpiderGoat!