The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 11
Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again it was to find himself staring at the ceiling of his room in Grimmauld Place, dimly lit by a street lamp outside the window. He blinked into the gloom feeling momentarily disorientated. Then he sat up and groped for his glasses, wide awake.
The hall outside his room was bright enough for him to check his watch and see that it was three o'clock in the morning. The house was silent and he wondered which room Snape was in; it seemed somehow unlikely he would still be lying on the kitchen table. He recognised the hall from the last time he had been here; the room he had shared with Ron was a couple of doors down from the one he was in now. He walked quietly towards it, thinking it as good a place as any to start, and knocked gently, not really knowing what he expected to happen. The door fell inwards under his touch and from inside he heard a woman gasp. He jumped back, embarrassed.
'I'm so sorry!' he gasped as Tonks' face appeared at the door. 'I didn't realise you were in there. I was looking for someone else'
Tonks smiled, her look of shock giving way to relief. 'It's OK Harry,' she whispered, 'you just made me jump, that's all. Do you want to come in and see him too?'
Harry nodded, stunned by his success at the first try.
Tonks led the way into a room which was brighter than Harry would have expected a sick room to be; but Snape was clearly in no state to complain. The contrast with the way he had looked in Harry's dream was almost as shocking as the sight of him on the moor had been. He looked clean under the blankets which were drawn up to the middle of his chest, and the smell was gone; but his face looked old, battered and ugly, and the bandages covering his body from waist to neck seemed to accentuate his thinness. Curiously, it was the absence of all the greasy hair which was most unnerving, as if without it he had somehow ceased to be Severus Snape.
'Is he going to die?' Harry asked.
Tonks moved back around the bed to where she had evidently been sitting when Harry had knocked, and took Snape's battered hand in her own. 'Mad-Eye said he'll be alright,' she said in a croaky voice, and wiped away tears. 'Sorry,' she said helplessly.
'It's OK,' said Harry. He gazed for a moment at the bandaged arm lying nearest him, with its ghost lying faint and still at the end of it. It was more difficult to see in the light, but he was interested to note that it too had long fingernails. The one Tonks was clutching had the same short nails hacked almost to the quick that Harry remembered from the Potions lessons; the only difference being that these were no longer stained and yellow. He pondered this for a moment, then went over to sit on the edge of the bed just behind Tonks.
'Why are you crying if he's going to live?' he asked. It seemed strange enough that anyone would cry for Snape at all, but after the bizarre events of the past day and night, Harry felt as if nothing would surprise him ever again. He looked at the unconscious man on the bed and wondered if his soul was lurking somewhere in the back of his head right now, watching them and listening. Was he really dying? Could someone who could do the kind of magic Snape had claimed really die so easily?
Tonks sniffled into a handkerchief, trying to blow her nose one-handed rather than let go of Snape. 'I don't know,' she mumbled. 'I just can't believe he's in this mess. I mean, look at him! What happened to do all this?'
'Why do you care?'
Tonks turned, wide-eyed, to stare at him. 'What do you mean?' she said, sounding shocked.
Harry sighed, momentarily feeling almost too bored to answer. 'Well everyone I know hates his guts,' he replied, 'me included. I've never met anyone who'd actually miss him if he wasn't around any more.'
Tonks' eyes filled with tears again. 'That's a terrible thing to say,' she cried. 'How can you say such a thing?'
Harry rolled his eyes with exasperation. 'Because he treats me like dirt! Ever since he first saw me, he's gone out of his way to make my life miserable! He even tried to get me expelled in the second year! And it's not just me, he's nasty to everyone.' Harry glared at Tonks. 'Anyway, I don't believe he's going to die, whatever he says. People like him don't.'
The spark of temper left Harry feeling depressed and tired, and he stared at his feet, not bothering to see how offended Tonks might be at his words. There was a silence punctuated by Tonks sniffing into her handkerchief; but now there was a decisive tenor to the sound, and the tears had dried up.
'That is a disgraceful thing to say,' she said. 'How can you possibly justify what's happened to him, just because you got told off by him a few times at school? How can you imagine that it's anything like the same thing? Have you any idea how much he risks his life, for all of us? How can you be so spiteful and childish?'
Harry looked up, stunned. Tonks glared back, lower lip trembling with grief and anger.
'For your information, Harry Potter, Professor Snape was the best, most supportive, generous and sensitive teacher I ever had at Hogwarts! And not just me, everyone in his house! It didn't matter what you wanted or needed, he always did his best to help you. I wanted so much to be an Auror, and he helped me get through the exams and wrote a fantastic reference for me. I don't think I'd have been accepted otherwise.'
Harry gazed blankly into space for a moment. 'You were in Slytherin House?'
'Yes,' she said, her voice becoming stronger. 'It isn't a house exclusively for dark wizards, you know. In fact there are probably a few people who might have turned to You Know Who and haven't, thanks to Professor Snape's influence.'
Harry stared at her. 'Oh,' he said. 'Well, that makes everything alright then, doesn't it? I mean, who cares that your cousin, who was locked up for fourteen years without a trial for a crime he didn't commit, just died a month ago? As long as wonderful Professor Snape isn't dead, that makes it quite alright, does it?'
Tonks' face froze. Harry watched with a quiet feeling of satisfaction as an agonised kind of realisation flared in her eyes. There was a long silence in which they regarded each other eye to eye. Then Tonks spoke in a quiet voice.
'Yes, you're right, it does. I don't know the words to use to explain to you why, but yes. As long as Professor Snape lives, I can handle the fact that Sirius didn't.'
For one crystalline moment, Harry's brain seemed to shut down. Then a jumble of emotions crashed violently inside his head, and he swallowed, tears rising fast. He clenched his teeth, jumping up to leave the room; but Tonks moved faster, grabbing him round the waist and holding him tightly in a hug he did not want. He struggled, but Tonks was stronger than she looked, and as she pulled him back they both fell over, sliding against the side of Moody's bed onto the floor. Then suddenly it felt so much easier to give in, and Harry found he was hugging her back, hot tears falling uncontrollably. Tonks held him close as he sobbed, making soothing noises and stroking his hair.
'I don't believe it,' Moody growled, anger burning in his normal eye. 'Frank would have told me if someone like Snape had willingly handed himself over, he knew I'd have given anything to talk to the little wretch.'
'Obviously I cannot speak for Frank, and whatever he ultimately intended is beyond our knowledge now,' said Dumbledore. 'However, I do not believe he had any desire to deceive you, Alastor. We could not have expected or even hoped for the kind of opportunity which suddenly presented itself in the person of Severus Snape, personal assistant and archivist to Octavian Malfoy, and himself a Death Eater. Frank's suggestion that he become a spy for us was irresistible.'
Moody slammed his fist down on the table with a crash which made them all jump. 'HOW DARE YOU take such a decision without me!' he roared. 'You let someone as young and inexperienced as Frank make a decision of that magnitude, without first seeking the advice of his superiors?'
'He took my advice, Alastor,' Dumbledore replied quietly. 'That he discussed his plan with me instead of you is pure accident. I simply happened to choose that evening to visit them, and arrived shortly after Severus.
'It was a dangerous idea, but one which we could not afford to reject. Severus could give us unparalleled access to Voldemort's plans. And of all people, he had precisely the talents necessary to make such a dangerous course of action possible.
'I decided that it would be best for all concerned if the only people who knew of Severus' defection were myself and the Longbottoms. Unfortunately, this meant we had to let the Malfoys go. There was no opportunity for us to discuss this with you; there simply was no time. I am sorry, Alastor.'
The colour had risen nastily in Moody's face, and he trembled with fury. 'No time,' he growled. 'This boy, this dangerous little boy who was practically adopted by Lucius Malfoy, just suddenly has a change of heart and wants to make good? Are you completely mad? If he as our spy could give us unparalleled access to Voldemort, what the hell could that give Voldemort? And you decided there was no time to discuss it?' Now Moody was on his feet, his voice rising to a shout. 'Damn you, what gave you the RIGHT?'
' so it was a bad spell then?' Shacklebolt's voice quietly incised the loaded silence as Moody glared down at Dumbledore.
'Not as such,' McGonagall replied, her voice shaking slightly. Moody was breathing deeply, his hands clenched. Dumbledore said nothing, his face impassive, but he no longer met Moody's angry gaze.
Aberforth, who had made no contribution to the conversation since he arrived, cleared his throat.
'It's been a long day,' he said mildly. 'Why don't we all turn in for the night and discuss this in the morning when we've had a bit of a rest? After all, Snape's not going anywhere, and you must admit, Alastor, apart from some confusion surrounding the particulars of what happened one night fourteen years ago, there's no real reason to suspect that Snape is not one of us is there?'
Moody scowled, then turned and stumped out of the kitchen. Shacklebolt whistled quietly.
'I knew he didn't like Snape, but I didn't realise it was as bad as that,' he said. 'Look much as I would like to, I can't come back tomorrow – ' he glanced at his watch ' – or rather, later today, to hear the rest of this story.' He gazed hopefully at the three wizards on the other side of the table. 'Please won't you tell me what happened?'
McGonagall pursed her lips and looked at Dumbledore. Aberforth grinned. Dumbledore smiled gently and gave another sigh. 'It has been a long day,' he said quietly. 'And I wonder if, just at this moment, the world contains a few too many secrets.'
He looked deep into Shacklebolt's eyes, weighing him up. Shacklebolt met his gaze, willingly laying his mind open to the Headmaster; and as he did so, he perceived a note of pain and sadness buried beneath the gentle smile. 'You do seem to know quite a lot already, Kingsley,' Dumbledore said softly. 'If we were to assuage your terrible curiosity, would we have your word that what we tell you would go no further? No reports to the Ministry, no confidences to colleagues, friends or other members of the Order, however trusted they may be?'
Shacklebolt nodded, his expression grave. 'I give you my word,' he said. 'I need to know. Maybe Malfoy wasn't the only one who knew about Snape and wanted his power? If I know what actually happened, then maybe I'll know what I'm looking for before I find it. After all, someone in the Ministry wants him, don't they? We're assuming it's one of You Know Who's spies; but it could just be that someone else is after him.'
McGonagall nodded more decisively and looked at Dumbledore for affirmation. Dumbledore nodded. 'Very well,' he said. 'Minerva will tell you everything you need to know. Good luck to you both.'
Shacklebolt smiled and got to his feet. McGonagall stood up, giving Dumbledore's shoulder a squeeze as she passed him. Albus and Aberforth watched them leave the kitchen together, sitting in silence until after they heard the front door close.
'Are you alright?' Aberforth enquired quietly.
Albus sighed and looked down at the book on the table. 'I feel very old, Abe,' he said. 'Alastor was right. I did take a significant decision which put three young people in terrible danger. Now one's dead, one's dying, and one will never leave St. Mungo's. Perhaps if I had at least let him know what was going on, there would have been a different outcome.'
'Come now, Albus. You took the only decision you could in the circumstances. It was very clear by that time that the Longbottoms and the Potters were specific targets, and just as clear that we were losing. And we were losing, Albus. We'd got to the point where we hardly trusted each other because we knew we had a traitor, and they were butchering us. Severus was the answer to a prayer. I can't understand why Alastor is so determined to believe the worst of him; if he hadn't been on our side, the end would have been a damn sight sooner, and we'd be mourning a lot more people, assuming we would still be here to mourn.
'We both know that he had nothing to do with what happened. I don't know how come he couldn't do anything to save them, but don't doubt their baby would have been killed if he hadn't got there when he did. Alastor might rage at you because he's upset about Alice and Frank, but a question one might reasonably ask is, why did it take Alastor and his Aurors as long as it did to get there at all?'
Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily. 'We played a dangerous game. We exploited Severus. There is no other word for it. But it is Alice and Frank – and Neville – who have paid for it.'
Aberforth put an arm around his brother's shoulders, empathising with the anguish in the old man's voice. 'What would you have done instead, Albus? Let Severus waste away in Azkaban while the Death Eaters finished annihilating us?'
'Voldemort did not fall because I spared Severus.'
'How do you know that? Maybe he did. Maybe he fell, because Lily spent her formative years in the care of a man who believes that nobody is irredeemable. That even the most misguided and corrupt have something worthwhile in them if they're given a chance to express it. That everyone deserves love and respect, just because they're people, not because they've earned it in some way?
'Because that's what brought down Voldemort. Not magical power, but true, unconditional love. The kind of love that you believe in, Albus. The kind of love that gave Severus his chance to make up for the things he'd done.'
It felt like hours before Harry managed to regain control of his emotions. He felt exhausted, confused and depressed, as if the purgative experience on the moor had never happened. He rested his head on Tonks' shoulder and gazed hopelessly into the middle distance, dimly grateful for the warmth of her body against his.
'Why did Sirius have to die?' he whispered. 'He didn't even have a proper life. It's not fair!'
'I know,' she whispered back, her voice sounding as hoarse and strained as his. 'All those wasted years, no chance of any normal life, knowing one his best friends had been sold out by another. And knowing that everyone thought he had murdered them. He didn't even get the chance to clear his name.' Now the hot tears were coming from above him, soaking through his hair. He tightened his arms around her, suddenly wanting to comfort as deeply as he had previously wanted to hurt.
They held each other in silence as the light in the room was gradually augmented by the dawn outside. Harry felt Tonks shift slightly so she could move her arm, and then the artificial light of the room was extinguished, leaving them in the cold dim light of day break.
'Was Snape really nice to you?' he asked. They shifted into a more comfortable position against the side of Moody's bed, and Tonks put her arm around Harry so he could rest his head on her shoulder again.
'Yes. To everyone. I know, he favoured his own house over everyone else, but he wasn't soft on us or anything. He was just I don't know, he was just there, and the world just felt like a better place because he was in it.
'I don't know how he managed it really, but he always seemed to know everyone, seemed to understand anything that was going wrong for them, and always managed to do something to make life better in some way. Even it was favouring them over people from other houses. I suppose that was a bit unfair, but he made people feel special, when maybe they didn't otherwise.'
An image of Snape decked out in the Slytherin House colours for a Quidditch match flitted past Harry's mind's eye.
'He used to come into the common room at least once a week and see how people were getting on, especially the first years. Lots of homesick people who felt a bit less lonely because the Head of House was taking an interest. It wasn't like he was trying to be cool and everyone's best friend – in some ways he was quite distant. It was more like he made sure you knew he was there and that everything was all right. And that you could go to him any time you wanted to if you needed someone to talk to.'
'Sounds nice,' said Harry distantly. He couldn't remember Professor McGonagall coming into the Gryffindor Common Room on more than a couple of official occasions; but then he couldn't remember a time when he had felt that her presence was lacking.
They sat in silence for a while, then Tonks suddenly spoke. 'Harry,' she said in a thoughtful voice, 'what did you mean when you said you didn't believe he was going to die?'
Then the bedroom door was flung open with a crash that made them both jump.
Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again it was to find himself staring at the ceiling of his room in Grimmauld Place, dimly lit by a street lamp outside the window. He blinked into the gloom feeling momentarily disorientated. Then he sat up and groped for his glasses, wide awake.
The hall outside his room was bright enough for him to check his watch and see that it was three o'clock in the morning. The house was silent and he wondered which room Snape was in; it seemed somehow unlikely he would still be lying on the kitchen table. He recognised the hall from the last time he had been here; the room he had shared with Ron was a couple of doors down from the one he was in now. He walked quietly towards it, thinking it as good a place as any to start, and knocked gently, not really knowing what he expected to happen. The door fell inwards under his touch and from inside he heard a woman gasp. He jumped back, embarrassed.
'I'm so sorry!' he gasped as Tonks' face appeared at the door. 'I didn't realise you were in there. I was looking for someone else'
Tonks smiled, her look of shock giving way to relief. 'It's OK Harry,' she whispered, 'you just made me jump, that's all. Do you want to come in and see him too?'
Harry nodded, stunned by his success at the first try.
Tonks led the way into a room which was brighter than Harry would have expected a sick room to be; but Snape was clearly in no state to complain. The contrast with the way he had looked in Harry's dream was almost as shocking as the sight of him on the moor had been. He looked clean under the blankets which were drawn up to the middle of his chest, and the smell was gone; but his face looked old, battered and ugly, and the bandages covering his body from waist to neck seemed to accentuate his thinness. Curiously, it was the absence of all the greasy hair which was most unnerving, as if without it he had somehow ceased to be Severus Snape.
'Is he going to die?' Harry asked.
Tonks moved back around the bed to where she had evidently been sitting when Harry had knocked, and took Snape's battered hand in her own. 'Mad-Eye said he'll be alright,' she said in a croaky voice, and wiped away tears. 'Sorry,' she said helplessly.
'It's OK,' said Harry. He gazed for a moment at the bandaged arm lying nearest him, with its ghost lying faint and still at the end of it. It was more difficult to see in the light, but he was interested to note that it too had long fingernails. The one Tonks was clutching had the same short nails hacked almost to the quick that Harry remembered from the Potions lessons; the only difference being that these were no longer stained and yellow. He pondered this for a moment, then went over to sit on the edge of the bed just behind Tonks.
'Why are you crying if he's going to live?' he asked. It seemed strange enough that anyone would cry for Snape at all, but after the bizarre events of the past day and night, Harry felt as if nothing would surprise him ever again. He looked at the unconscious man on the bed and wondered if his soul was lurking somewhere in the back of his head right now, watching them and listening. Was he really dying? Could someone who could do the kind of magic Snape had claimed really die so easily?
Tonks sniffled into a handkerchief, trying to blow her nose one-handed rather than let go of Snape. 'I don't know,' she mumbled. 'I just can't believe he's in this mess. I mean, look at him! What happened to do all this?'
'Why do you care?'
Tonks turned, wide-eyed, to stare at him. 'What do you mean?' she said, sounding shocked.
Harry sighed, momentarily feeling almost too bored to answer. 'Well everyone I know hates his guts,' he replied, 'me included. I've never met anyone who'd actually miss him if he wasn't around any more.'
Tonks' eyes filled with tears again. 'That's a terrible thing to say,' she cried. 'How can you say such a thing?'
Harry rolled his eyes with exasperation. 'Because he treats me like dirt! Ever since he first saw me, he's gone out of his way to make my life miserable! He even tried to get me expelled in the second year! And it's not just me, he's nasty to everyone.' Harry glared at Tonks. 'Anyway, I don't believe he's going to die, whatever he says. People like him don't.'
The spark of temper left Harry feeling depressed and tired, and he stared at his feet, not bothering to see how offended Tonks might be at his words. There was a silence punctuated by Tonks sniffing into her handkerchief; but now there was a decisive tenor to the sound, and the tears had dried up.
'That is a disgraceful thing to say,' she said. 'How can you possibly justify what's happened to him, just because you got told off by him a few times at school? How can you imagine that it's anything like the same thing? Have you any idea how much he risks his life, for all of us? How can you be so spiteful and childish?'
Harry looked up, stunned. Tonks glared back, lower lip trembling with grief and anger.
'For your information, Harry Potter, Professor Snape was the best, most supportive, generous and sensitive teacher I ever had at Hogwarts! And not just me, everyone in his house! It didn't matter what you wanted or needed, he always did his best to help you. I wanted so much to be an Auror, and he helped me get through the exams and wrote a fantastic reference for me. I don't think I'd have been accepted otherwise.'
Harry gazed blankly into space for a moment. 'You were in Slytherin House?'
'Yes,' she said, her voice becoming stronger. 'It isn't a house exclusively for dark wizards, you know. In fact there are probably a few people who might have turned to You Know Who and haven't, thanks to Professor Snape's influence.'
Harry stared at her. 'Oh,' he said. 'Well, that makes everything alright then, doesn't it? I mean, who cares that your cousin, who was locked up for fourteen years without a trial for a crime he didn't commit, just died a month ago? As long as wonderful Professor Snape isn't dead, that makes it quite alright, does it?'
Tonks' face froze. Harry watched with a quiet feeling of satisfaction as an agonised kind of realisation flared in her eyes. There was a long silence in which they regarded each other eye to eye. Then Tonks spoke in a quiet voice.
'Yes, you're right, it does. I don't know the words to use to explain to you why, but yes. As long as Professor Snape lives, I can handle the fact that Sirius didn't.'
For one crystalline moment, Harry's brain seemed to shut down. Then a jumble of emotions crashed violently inside his head, and he swallowed, tears rising fast. He clenched his teeth, jumping up to leave the room; but Tonks moved faster, grabbing him round the waist and holding him tightly in a hug he did not want. He struggled, but Tonks was stronger than she looked, and as she pulled him back they both fell over, sliding against the side of Moody's bed onto the floor. Then suddenly it felt so much easier to give in, and Harry found he was hugging her back, hot tears falling uncontrollably. Tonks held him close as he sobbed, making soothing noises and stroking his hair.
'I don't believe it,' Moody growled, anger burning in his normal eye. 'Frank would have told me if someone like Snape had willingly handed himself over, he knew I'd have given anything to talk to the little wretch.'
'Obviously I cannot speak for Frank, and whatever he ultimately intended is beyond our knowledge now,' said Dumbledore. 'However, I do not believe he had any desire to deceive you, Alastor. We could not have expected or even hoped for the kind of opportunity which suddenly presented itself in the person of Severus Snape, personal assistant and archivist to Octavian Malfoy, and himself a Death Eater. Frank's suggestion that he become a spy for us was irresistible.'
Moody slammed his fist down on the table with a crash which made them all jump. 'HOW DARE YOU take such a decision without me!' he roared. 'You let someone as young and inexperienced as Frank make a decision of that magnitude, without first seeking the advice of his superiors?'
'He took my advice, Alastor,' Dumbledore replied quietly. 'That he discussed his plan with me instead of you is pure accident. I simply happened to choose that evening to visit them, and arrived shortly after Severus.
'It was a dangerous idea, but one which we could not afford to reject. Severus could give us unparalleled access to Voldemort's plans. And of all people, he had precisely the talents necessary to make such a dangerous course of action possible.
'I decided that it would be best for all concerned if the only people who knew of Severus' defection were myself and the Longbottoms. Unfortunately, this meant we had to let the Malfoys go. There was no opportunity for us to discuss this with you; there simply was no time. I am sorry, Alastor.'
The colour had risen nastily in Moody's face, and he trembled with fury. 'No time,' he growled. 'This boy, this dangerous little boy who was practically adopted by Lucius Malfoy, just suddenly has a change of heart and wants to make good? Are you completely mad? If he as our spy could give us unparalleled access to Voldemort, what the hell could that give Voldemort? And you decided there was no time to discuss it?' Now Moody was on his feet, his voice rising to a shout. 'Damn you, what gave you the RIGHT?'
' so it was a bad spell then?' Shacklebolt's voice quietly incised the loaded silence as Moody glared down at Dumbledore.
'Not as such,' McGonagall replied, her voice shaking slightly. Moody was breathing deeply, his hands clenched. Dumbledore said nothing, his face impassive, but he no longer met Moody's angry gaze.
Aberforth, who had made no contribution to the conversation since he arrived, cleared his throat.
'It's been a long day,' he said mildly. 'Why don't we all turn in for the night and discuss this in the morning when we've had a bit of a rest? After all, Snape's not going anywhere, and you must admit, Alastor, apart from some confusion surrounding the particulars of what happened one night fourteen years ago, there's no real reason to suspect that Snape is not one of us is there?'
Moody scowled, then turned and stumped out of the kitchen. Shacklebolt whistled quietly.
'I knew he didn't like Snape, but I didn't realise it was as bad as that,' he said. 'Look much as I would like to, I can't come back tomorrow – ' he glanced at his watch ' – or rather, later today, to hear the rest of this story.' He gazed hopefully at the three wizards on the other side of the table. 'Please won't you tell me what happened?'
McGonagall pursed her lips and looked at Dumbledore. Aberforth grinned. Dumbledore smiled gently and gave another sigh. 'It has been a long day,' he said quietly. 'And I wonder if, just at this moment, the world contains a few too many secrets.'
He looked deep into Shacklebolt's eyes, weighing him up. Shacklebolt met his gaze, willingly laying his mind open to the Headmaster; and as he did so, he perceived a note of pain and sadness buried beneath the gentle smile. 'You do seem to know quite a lot already, Kingsley,' Dumbledore said softly. 'If we were to assuage your terrible curiosity, would we have your word that what we tell you would go no further? No reports to the Ministry, no confidences to colleagues, friends or other members of the Order, however trusted they may be?'
Shacklebolt nodded, his expression grave. 'I give you my word,' he said. 'I need to know. Maybe Malfoy wasn't the only one who knew about Snape and wanted his power? If I know what actually happened, then maybe I'll know what I'm looking for before I find it. After all, someone in the Ministry wants him, don't they? We're assuming it's one of You Know Who's spies; but it could just be that someone else is after him.'
McGonagall nodded more decisively and looked at Dumbledore for affirmation. Dumbledore nodded. 'Very well,' he said. 'Minerva will tell you everything you need to know. Good luck to you both.'
Shacklebolt smiled and got to his feet. McGonagall stood up, giving Dumbledore's shoulder a squeeze as she passed him. Albus and Aberforth watched them leave the kitchen together, sitting in silence until after they heard the front door close.
'Are you alright?' Aberforth enquired quietly.
Albus sighed and looked down at the book on the table. 'I feel very old, Abe,' he said. 'Alastor was right. I did take a significant decision which put three young people in terrible danger. Now one's dead, one's dying, and one will never leave St. Mungo's. Perhaps if I had at least let him know what was going on, there would have been a different outcome.'
'Come now, Albus. You took the only decision you could in the circumstances. It was very clear by that time that the Longbottoms and the Potters were specific targets, and just as clear that we were losing. And we were losing, Albus. We'd got to the point where we hardly trusted each other because we knew we had a traitor, and they were butchering us. Severus was the answer to a prayer. I can't understand why Alastor is so determined to believe the worst of him; if he hadn't been on our side, the end would have been a damn sight sooner, and we'd be mourning a lot more people, assuming we would still be here to mourn.
'We both know that he had nothing to do with what happened. I don't know how come he couldn't do anything to save them, but don't doubt their baby would have been killed if he hadn't got there when he did. Alastor might rage at you because he's upset about Alice and Frank, but a question one might reasonably ask is, why did it take Alastor and his Aurors as long as it did to get there at all?'
Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily. 'We played a dangerous game. We exploited Severus. There is no other word for it. But it is Alice and Frank – and Neville – who have paid for it.'
Aberforth put an arm around his brother's shoulders, empathising with the anguish in the old man's voice. 'What would you have done instead, Albus? Let Severus waste away in Azkaban while the Death Eaters finished annihilating us?'
'Voldemort did not fall because I spared Severus.'
'How do you know that? Maybe he did. Maybe he fell, because Lily spent her formative years in the care of a man who believes that nobody is irredeemable. That even the most misguided and corrupt have something worthwhile in them if they're given a chance to express it. That everyone deserves love and respect, just because they're people, not because they've earned it in some way?
'Because that's what brought down Voldemort. Not magical power, but true, unconditional love. The kind of love that you believe in, Albus. The kind of love that gave Severus his chance to make up for the things he'd done.'
It felt like hours before Harry managed to regain control of his emotions. He felt exhausted, confused and depressed, as if the purgative experience on the moor had never happened. He rested his head on Tonks' shoulder and gazed hopelessly into the middle distance, dimly grateful for the warmth of her body against his.
'Why did Sirius have to die?' he whispered. 'He didn't even have a proper life. It's not fair!'
'I know,' she whispered back, her voice sounding as hoarse and strained as his. 'All those wasted years, no chance of any normal life, knowing one his best friends had been sold out by another. And knowing that everyone thought he had murdered them. He didn't even get the chance to clear his name.' Now the hot tears were coming from above him, soaking through his hair. He tightened his arms around her, suddenly wanting to comfort as deeply as he had previously wanted to hurt.
They held each other in silence as the light in the room was gradually augmented by the dawn outside. Harry felt Tonks shift slightly so she could move her arm, and then the artificial light of the room was extinguished, leaving them in the cold dim light of day break.
'Was Snape really nice to you?' he asked. They shifted into a more comfortable position against the side of Moody's bed, and Tonks put her arm around Harry so he could rest his head on her shoulder again.
'Yes. To everyone. I know, he favoured his own house over everyone else, but he wasn't soft on us or anything. He was just I don't know, he was just there, and the world just felt like a better place because he was in it.
'I don't know how he managed it really, but he always seemed to know everyone, seemed to understand anything that was going wrong for them, and always managed to do something to make life better in some way. Even it was favouring them over people from other houses. I suppose that was a bit unfair, but he made people feel special, when maybe they didn't otherwise.'
An image of Snape decked out in the Slytherin House colours for a Quidditch match flitted past Harry's mind's eye.
'He used to come into the common room at least once a week and see how people were getting on, especially the first years. Lots of homesick people who felt a bit less lonely because the Head of House was taking an interest. It wasn't like he was trying to be cool and everyone's best friend – in some ways he was quite distant. It was more like he made sure you knew he was there and that everything was all right. And that you could go to him any time you wanted to if you needed someone to talk to.'
'Sounds nice,' said Harry distantly. He couldn't remember Professor McGonagall coming into the Gryffindor Common Room on more than a couple of official occasions; but then he couldn't remember a time when he had felt that her presence was lacking.
They sat in silence for a while, then Tonks suddenly spoke. 'Harry,' she said in a thoughtful voice, 'what did you mean when you said you didn't believe he was going to die?'
Then the bedroom door was flung open with a crash that made them both jump.
samson, Aredhel Tasartir, Athena Keating-Thomas, Barbara Kennedy, BekaJWP, KniteKat, IntelEwok, fanfiction fanatic, Melwasul, Lilith11, ataraxis, & amyaggie:
Thank you all very very much for your reviews! *hugs* *cuddles* *large boxes of chocolates all round*
Everyone who doesn't want Snape to die: Oh all right then, if you insist. LOL No he isn't going to die, and yes there is a reason for the mess he's in - all very germane to the story I'm telling, and all will be revealed. Eventually ;p (Lilith11: Oh yes! ;p)
Barbara Kennedy: Sorry about the alert thingie - it's because I previously had an "intermission" chapter, before I discovered writing to people on the end of the chapters. How dim am I?! Then I deleted it and reposted the whole thing minus the "intermission" over Christmas when I was feeling creative. Looking forward to reading the rest of your fics, although I'm so obsessed with mine at the mo, I've not read many other people's at all. Hope your creative muse is feeling as energetic as mine these days ;D
I'm especially pleased that people liked the dreamscape - that was more or less the first part of this fic that I wrote, because the idea of what people might say to each other, if they could go somewhere *else*, fascinates me. I sort of imagine it could be rather like internet chatrooms, where you have the mental space for people to interact, but no concept of how they look or who they are in the "real-world" to warp your opinions of them. There will be more.
Crookykanks: Dunno if you're still out there, but I'm giving the unsigned review thing another try. Had another look at my settings and realised my email address isn't actually displayed, so it must have just been coincidence. Hope you're well, wherever you are *hugs*