Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nope. Nodda.

A/N: This was originally started for the Espionage challenge. But, when I wiped out my computer I forgot to save all my links! So I can't find the web page that had all the requirements for the challenge. If anyone knows where I can find it, please tell me. Though I might not continue it with all the requirements, seeing as how I just kept writing the story even though I couldn't find that page…

Chapter One: The Calm Before The Storm

A cold, cruel wind whipped mercilessly over the astronomy tower, it's howling wretched and sorrowful. Not unlike the lone figure standing there, starring silently at the stars. The man's long, black robes and long, black hair thrashed violently in the wind, but he seemed to take no notice of this nuisance. He didn't mind the wind. In fact, he welcomed it. Welcomed the bitter cold. Perhaps it would numb him, he thought. Numb his very soul.

The face of this man, was not the face of a man who had led a happy, easy life. No, this was the face of a man who had led a life of pain, betrayal, sorrow, and failure. This was the face of a man who had lost everything that he loved, everything that he was, and only had the bitter, cold thoughts in his head, and the bitter, cold wind to comfort him.

Few who know this man, know of his past. Though everyone can sense the darkness there. They can see it in the hardness of his jaw, the curl of his lip, his ever-present air of hatred. But no one, save one or two, can see the regret in his eyes. The very eyes that now stared unseeingly at the heavens, absorbing the twinkling light of the stars rather than reflecting them.

Severus Snape was lost in the twisting labyrinth of his own mind. Traveling through the maze of memories and emotions, searching for one thing: the strength to do what soon must be done. Finally, he drew himself out of his thoughts and focused on the white mask that was held loosely in his hand. There was a time when he was proud to wear that mask, a time when life, seemed to have a meaning. But now he realized, his life had been dead: even more so than now.

His life had depended upon the hatred, the violence. Depended upon the rush before the kill, the planning, the evil, to block out the guilt and self-loathing that threatened to engulf him. It wasn't really like he had believed in the cause they worked for. He didn't really want Voldemort in power, didn't believe that the "filthy mud-bloods" should be destroyed. He simply had wanted revenge, and power. Lord Voldemort gave him both those things.

Now, he felt no lust for power. No need for revenge. All he did in life now, was for repentance. It was for repentance that he now waited for the Dark Lord's call. Waiting for the mark that was forever burned in his mind, to burn on his forearm.

It had taken him almost three years, but finally, he was back in Voldemort's inner circle. Tonight, he would be welcomed with open arms by his old "friends." He would be honored as one who had proven himself time and time again. Once, this would have sent a wave pride through him; but now, he merely felt nauseous.

Severus dragged his eyes away from the horrid mask and looked once again at the stars. His thoughts wavered from the past, to the present, to the future. Ever since the incident at the ministry more than a year ago, Voldemort had remained silent. No random muggle killings, or kidnaps. No attacks on the ministry or on Hogwarts. It would seem like he was doing nothing, but no; he was slowly, quietly gaining power, making plans. Unlike in the past, where the Dark Mark, loomed in the sky, permanently striking fear in everyone's hearts. He was smarter now, and even more dangerous. Severus knew he had a plan, and perhaps tonight, he would find out just what that plan was.

Severus did not flinch when he felt the burning on his arm, nor did he look at it. He knew the mark was black. It was time. He cast one more look at the grounds below him, and at the stars. The wind had stopped a few minutes ago, but he knew this false peace would not last. It was merely a calm before the real storm.

Putting the mask in his pocket, and at the same time pulling out his wand, he turned to march down the stairs.

Harry Potter watched the storm outside from his seat by the window. It was late, but he knew that if he tried to lie down, sleep would not come to him. So, he watched the violent swaying of the trees on the Hogwarts school grounds.

At age seventeen, Harry Potter had changed much from the skinny, scraggly boy he once was. Oh, he was still skinny and his hair, though now much longer, was still uncontrollable. But, if you look closely, you would see that he was no longer a boy.

His shoulders, though they showed no sign of the burden, held the weight of the hopes of an entire world. His vivid green eyes held a hardness not usual in people his age. He had seen too much at the age of seventeen. He was no boy. His youth had been stripped from him. His dreams had been replaced by the almost fatalism that had woven itself in his life. Yet he had accepted this fate with fierce determination.

Harry looked around his dormitory. Much had changed in his life, and in many others. His glance moved over his sleeping classmate's beds—with their curtains pulled around them, and faint breathing being heard—to the two empty beds. One, his that was barely used—compliments of the nightmares that plagued him. The other had been Seamus'. After Lord Voldemort's return became known, Seamus' mother had pulled him out of school, thinking he would be safer. Harry knew she was wrong. Hogwarts was the safest place there was.

Harry's gaze returned to the window, and looked over the grounds he knew so well. Another thing changed in his life: Hogwarts. Though it usually gave him a feeling of peace, of feeling of home, he was no more at peace here than at the Dursley's It felt odd, really, being at Hogwarts. The students tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, that no one was worried. But, though laughs echoed down the hallways, they were hollow, not quite true. And though, you can see smiles on people's faces, there was always that worry, that fear there.

Yet, nothing had happened. Harry's brow furrowed in frustration. What was going on? For the past two years they have heard nothing of Voldemort. Nothing. Zip. It was eerie. There was an uneasiness everywhere. Everyone felt it. Everyone knew that their false security someday would crash around them. And would they be ready for the storm that followed?

When the sky began to lighten, Harry slowly got up and walked to his bed, finally feeling he that he would be able to sleep. It was like this every night. He was awake till almost dawn, where he would crawl into bed and get a few hours asleep. But it seemed as if those few hours were all he needed lately. He took off his glasses and placed them on his bedside table. He turned his face to the window, watching the sky slowly lighten. He fell asleep like that, not even bothering to close the hangings around his bed.