Snape gazed silently into the fire, offering nothing.
'I don't know what to believe, Severus,' McGonagall whispered. 'You've always been such a mystery. I remember you in your first year, refusing to transfigure the mice because you thought it was cruel. Even now you remain the only one of my students who ever even considered the question. But what you did that day after Sirius had been teasing you about your accent-'
'I remember,' Snape cut her off harshly. 'An event I'll never forget because it changed my life. '
'You scared us all so much,' McGonagall went on softly. 'I've never seen a child perform such a powerful spell. Several of the teachers thought Dumbledore should have expelled you-'
'Were you one of them?' Snape looked up, his eyes cold. 'James believed I was the devil incarnate from that day on, even though I never did anything like that again. My father saw to it that I spoke English like an Englishman and that I never touched anything but English magic again for as long as I was at Hogwarts. But one mistake and I was damned from that moment on, wasn't I? Even now...?'
'Yes Severus,' she replied, her voice hardening. 'And you're going to die for it unless you can give me something to defend you with. I WANT to believe you - I believe IN you. But there are very few who do. And they want to kill you.
'Fudge has seen your Dark Mark - he already has all the proof he needs. But that's not enough for him; he wants to tie you to Frank and Alice's destruction. The only way to exonerate you is to prove that you were spying for us - but if we do that you'll be worse than dead at the hands of You Know Who.
'If we can prove you had nothing to do with that, then there may be a way to save you from execution without exposing you.'
There was silence. McGonagall sank back into the chair, exhausted by her speech. Snape went on staring into the fire; then he spoke.
'You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you? You only heard all this last night, and yet here you are now with all this. I noticed you don't suggest I merely go on the run like Black. With this advance warning, why don't I simply escape?'
McGonagall bit her lip. 'That would be an admission of guilt, leading inevitably to an investigation into why Albus employed a Death Eater at Hogwarts. How long do you think it would it be before your betrayal of the Dark Lord became known? And under those circumstances, it wouldn't just be you, but the whole Order at risk.'
Snape buried his face in his hands, long greasy hair sliding between his fingers. 'So what you're basically saying is, I'm doomed anyway, so I should be noble about it. A choice between facing potential death by myself, or certain death with everyone else?'
McGonagall got stiffly to her feet, steadying herself with the walking stick. 'I'm not going to let you die, Severus,' she said. 'I defended you when you were twelve. I shall defend you now.'
She hobbled towards the door and turned, but Snape remained unmoving by the fire. McGonagall closed the door quietly and went to find Albus Dumbledore.
Snape sat alone in the dark, unaware of the passing of time as long-buried memories surged before his mind's eye like a reel of film. While none of tonight's news had come as a particular surprise, the shock of Frank's death had opened doors long closed in his mind, releasing memories Snape intended to share with no one.
The possibility of his capture and execution by the Ministry of Magic was one which held no fear. Since the Voldemort's return a year earlier, Snape had lived daily with the knowlege that his duplicity might be revealed at any moment, and when that moment came he knew his fate would
be horrible. Ironically, this understanding was the source of his only shield against discovery, because it invoked a terror so complete his mind went blank every time he thought of it. And thus emptied of emotion, Snape's mind became a precision tool of Occlumency which allowed him, not only to hide his thoughts from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but construct entirely spurious ones. It was a dangerous game, and one he played well, but he dared not imagine he could win. The
prospect of a comparatively easy end from the Ministry of Magic was almost comforting.
But now the game was over. The welter of emotions unleashed by the news of Frank's death was more than Snape could control, and the rage alone was overwhelming, leaving him dangerously vulnerable. Facing trial was out of the question.