There're still people around. Just a few. And food. The smell of burnt fat urges me forward. "Why me, Headmaster?"
"Because you are someone I trust."
"I know that."
"The Fidelius Charm is highly complicated, Severus. It is a burden to both, the hidden person and the Secret Keeper. I felt that you were one of the last remaining people who had the strength to do this. But it is your choice, of course."
"If you think it wise, Headmaster, I shall of course not decline."
"This is a matter of tremendous importance, Severus. We might have to rely merely on your strength of mind at some point of the war. If you do not want to do this I will more than understand."
"Don't worry, Headmaster, I won't let you down."
At the stall in front of me some blokes play cards and drink beer. My head hurts. I dare not come nearer. One of them sees me and produces a friendly smile. Says something I cannot understand. He must have seen me before.
"Beer?", the barman offers. I nod and he gives me some. Of course, they are aware that I won't be able to pay for it. Or are they? The drink is nice and comforting. They offer me another one. And a third. I droll into a deep, lukewarm sleep, which seems to last for at least twenty hours. I have weird dreams.
One of them makes me believe I am Harry Potter, strolling along the endless corridors of a castle, which I clearly recognize as the Dark Lord's residence. I am afraid, but nevertheless determined. And then I can see myself. Severus Snape. I am screaming. The Dark Lord tortures me. But I am Harry Potter, so I can't feel it. Where have I seen this before? They are bringing a woman in emerald green robes... it is painful. More painful than the curse. I cry, cry, cry...
"Hey, man! I close now. You have to pay the three beers."
Someone pokes my arm. The castle vanishes. "What?"
"You have to pay. I want to go home!"
"But I don't have... you invited me, didn't you?"
He gives me a severe look.
"I don't have any money," I tell him. "I thought you..."
"You mean you can't pay?" He curses. In German. This gives me back my full memory.
"Listen," I say, "I'd give you something in return. Only that I don't possess anything."
The man nods slowly. Hasn't understood a word I was saying. He is obviously about to explode. Must have had a bad day. I try to get up and find that my damp cloak has turned into a massive block of ice. I am trembling of cold, my skin has taken the colour of mouldy milk and I cannot feel any part of my body except my head. When he freaks out and beats me up I don't even notice the pain. All I notice is that I am slowly, but steadily freezing. He still kicks me when I have long stopped defending myself, shouting things like, "Bloody foreigners", "Scheißjob" and "Scheißkälte".
I am lying in the snow once more, dirty all over and convinced that, this time, I will die.
"You cannot die, Severus," Dumbledore interrupts a most satisfying dream involving Harry Potter and a school cane. "We are nearly there."
"You said I have failed you," I whisper.
"I thought you had," he replies, "but I was mistaken. Minerva told me the truth."
"B-but Minerva is... she is dead, isn't she?"
"Why, of course she is," the headmaster says thoughtfully. "I must have forgotten."
I awake with a start. There is a fire in front of me. Using all my strength I try to open my eyes again, only to see Lucius Malfoy sitting in front of the closed beer stall, smiling in a way I cannot define as good or bad.
"Severus," he says. "How are you?"
"Cold," I mean to reply, but my voice fails me.
Lucius gives a derisive snort, gets up and comes closer. "I have come to tell you that the war is over, Severus. Dumbledore is defeated." I stare at him in disbelief.
"You are lying!"
"You know I am serious about these things," he replies. "You know that, don't you, Severus?" My hands are trembling and I try to get up.
"What... what have you come for?"
"I am here on the Dark Lord's service," Lucius says calmly. "He wants to know if you still want your second chance!"
"What?"
"You heard me correctly." A contemptuous smile appears at his sallow face. "He wants you back. Personally, I would have killed you long before, but he seems to have his reasons."
"He wants me to rejoin his side?"
"Indeed, he does."
"Ridiculous! He'd never suggest something like that. I turned my back on him!"
"Ah, but you also made up for it," Lucius replies as calmly as ever. "If it hadn't been for your honest wish to give away Dumbledore's hiding place, none of us would have been able to find him, eventually."
I gasp. "My what?"
He smirks. Not intentionally, obviously, but something about this seems so funny not even Lucius Malfoy is able to keep up his indifferent expression. "Surely you knew that your mere intent to betray him was more than enough for our master to get all the information he needed?"
Another memory floats into my mind: I am sitting on the floor, holding Minerva. The Dark Lord has just released her from the curse.
"Yes - anything! I'll say anything!" He smiles. Outstretches his hand. His arm. Grabs me. Grabs inside me. And then it is over. It has lasted barely a second, and yet - how could I have failed to realise what it had meant?
"He took it from me," I whisper. "Right before he killed her." Lucius raises an eyebrow.
"Fascinating, isn't it? How simply those spells can be tricked? But our master is a genius, of course. We all knew that."
I try to get up. To my great surprise I succeed. All limbs aching I stand in front of Lucius, my former tutor and best friend and stare right into his face.
"Tell your master I'd rather die than rejoin him!"
"He won't be pleased. Seems that for once I was right about you and he was not. I'll deliver your message with pleasure." He smirks. Turns, but stops as a thought strikes him. "Oh, and..." he turns again, "...he asked me to bring a little souvenir in case you declined. Do you mind? It's all soggy anyway."
And with a wave of his wand he takes my cloak, which leaves me half-naked and trembling of cold. I stumble once more so that I am kneeling before him now. "You - you can't..."
"I told the Dark Lord that freezing was a far too merciful death for a traitor like you," he says now with unconcealed disgust in his voice. "Do you want to know what he replied to that? He said, 'You'll understand, Lucius, as soon as you see his despicable remains sitting in the snow, shivering of cold.' And guess what? He was right." And he vanishes.
Hours pass. Have I been sleeping? Dying and resurrecting? I can feel some parts of my body again, but there is no difference between the beaten and the frozen limbs. Moving is painful. Let's just stay here and die. Ha! As if I had the choice. I feel a tiny treat of the old sarcasm return. But it does not last very long. It is too cold. I crouch down a sheltered corner, quivering... sobbing. Luckily, at this time of night no one comes down this street anymore. I feel that being seen in this condition would be worse than just freezing on a Muggle doorstep. And then I hear whistling. I freeze. (Except that I am nearly frozen, anyway.) How on earth can that be? Someone is coming down the street. At this time of night? I cannot believe my luck.
A figure appears. "Hi there!" Can it be...
"What are you doing here?"
"Coming to get you."
"You mean..." Only now I recognize him. It is not Harry.
"Do you want to stay here forever?" he asks. "It is much warmer where I come from, you know. And you've got someone to talk to. Minerva has been asking for you all evening."
I nod. Suddenly, I feel I can go anywhere. With or without my cloak. But I am wearing it again. I feel neither cold nor pain and I have no difficulties getting up, leaving behind a more or less pitiful half-naked figure in the snow. But I don't care.
"Where did you say we are going?"
He doesn't reply. Instead, he extends his hand and to my own great surprise I take it without hesitating. There's another feeling I do not seem to possess anymore, though it is not a physical one. Can angels hate?