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Chapter 32. Blasted prophecies

When the Headmaster of Hogwarts appeared in the backdoor of his office, wearing a ruby nightgown with gracile golden phoenixes embroidered into the hem and around the collar, with his beard plaited into delicate braids, he definitely looked annoyed. It was about an hour before dawn, and Severus Snape was neither in the mood nor within his abilities to ascertain if this annoyance was due to the early hour or his earlier visit with the Headmaster's brother. However, he didn't have any energy to waste finding that out at the moment, which Dumbledore must have seen on his face.

"Severus, what happened?" – the old voice sounded careful and a tad anxious. "You look as if demons chased you to my doorstep!"

"If so, it must be because Hell has just been unleashed, sir."

"Why, Severus, this is very dramatic, even from you" – Dumbledore walked into the room and gestured his spy to take the seat he usually occupied across the Headmaster's desk. "What makes you speak so?" – he added when Snape's expression didn't change a jot after his jibe.

"Probably that I'm coming from Azkaban, sir. More precisely from the revel," – he added, clearing his throat, "celebrating the Dark Lord's success freeing his most devoted servants and letting all the Dementors loose. They won't return to the Ministry's employ, as you foretold. As if there isn't enough bad news for the day before he took action."

The Headmaster jerked his head up, questioning his last words on his last words, and Severus only then reflected on his thoughtless remark.

"I apologize, sir. I must be quite tired to digress so. The Dark Lord mobilized the full potential of the second circle tonight for the first time in fifteen years. The prisoners I recognized, Rodolphus, Mulciber, Gibbons, Bellatrix, Yaxley, Travers, Jugson, Rowle, and there were a handful of others I couldn't see in the dust, all escaped. The ceiling collapsed, sir" – he added to attempt making sense in his report. "Just like the whole southern wing. Most regained their wands, too. It might be of some interest that the merman, Salis, you sent me earlier to talk to, also escaped. I'm unsure if many survived who stayed in that wing of the prison, but the Dark Lord freed all the Dementors into his service, without a doubt."

Dumbledore somberly nodded, digesting the news. "What other issue did you mention?"

Severus somehow refrained from pulling a shoulder. It seemed a waste of breath after all these hours among the Death Eaters and listening through the brightest plans and encouraging sentiments the Dark Lord shared in his celebratory words….

"Potter attended his first Occlumency lesson, sir. Albeit he does indeed have a minor potential to deflect intrusion, the Dark Lord's presence is clearly detectable in his mind. He–"

"Are you completely sure about your assessment? Are you objective enough when it comes to Harry or to your acquaintances?"

There was something hurtfully suspicious in the old voice that made Severus' nerves jump back on edge. "How long were you delayed at that revel, Severus? An hour or a few?"

"Sir, I–"

"As much as I enjoy and treasure your story-telling skills, I have to admit I also value my own time, and I received Kingsley's owl just before I retired for the day. Shortly after midnight," – the Headmaster added the last sentence with uncommon harshness.

Snape's eyes narrowed on the golden stitches that drawn out the silhouette of that damn bird, and he already stood to leave.

"My apologies, sir. I will return your Pensieve with my memories about the events for you to examine at your leisure, of course. I wish you an easy–"

"Severus!" – Dumbledore's thundering voice stopped Snape just before he opened the door to leave, and as he turned to face the Headmaster, he was reminded of the reason behind his fame.

Albus Dumbledore didn't look like the jovial grandpa he liked to pose as for his students at school. Instead, he was the all-powerful and demanding force Snape actually knew him to be, and this time he seemed inclined to showcase that force. Even with more self-confidence than what Severus had possessed about sixteen years ago, it was an unsettling view.

"How very …comfortable for you" – the Headmaster approached slowly, with his voice now as low as normally, but his eyes still cold as ice – "to offer my own Pensieve for me. I wonder if there's a reason…."

It took a moment for Severus' tired mind to work out his meaning. However, when it did, it combined all he could gather: Potter and his threatening presence, his criticizing Dumbledore's approach, his visit at Aberforth, and the revel – all might question his true alliance, which a Pensieve-memory without his added emotions couldn't solve. So he ordered his magic back, to pull the memory into the forefront of his mind:

"See for yourself then, sir!" – he said and loosened his Occlumency to provide entry for the Headmaster's curious mind. He didn't hesitate a second.

Dumbledore watched through the offered memory about the attack on Azkaban, even showing his close cooperation with Lucius and his short flare of joy seeing Mulciber alive. The next moment, Severus felt the Headmaster's will pulling onto the edge of his awareness, instilling Aberforth's name as a calling to examine even more than he was ready to offer.

Severus produced what he asked for with a sharp smack of reluctance, only muting his own thoughts about the situation. He showed the whole conversation as he saw it. Then he proceeded to show Potter and the Occlumency class, with the strong intention of making the Headmaster aware of the danger, to show the pull of an entity that didn't belong. In vain, for Dumbledore only turned back to the memory about Aberforth, asking why, which was in no way possible to show without telling about – NO!

Mobilizing his now ever-present and very much untamed magic, just like his over-trained skills as an Occlumens, Snape pushed Albus Dumbledore's fumbling curiosity out of his mind with an excessive force that made the old wizard stumble back on his feet.

"Have I ever questioned your reasons, sir? Have I ever asked you why? Why you didn't succeed in saving them when I presented you with all the knowledge I could gather? Why you trained a mediocre child as if he was the saviour of the world? Why, as a matter of fact, do you act as if the Prophecy mattered more than a heap of haphazardly thrown together words, giving it force just like the Dark Lord does? Have I ever, just for once, questioned your reasons?" – with every question, he regained some control over his sudden anger, still doing his best to avoid any thought of Héloïse or Sage. He wasn't about to discuss either of them, nor the issue of dark magic, which he knew would make him lose his temper for good.

"Might I remind you, it has never been my integrity to come into question" – Dumbledore replied with the same cold suspicion in his blue eyes?

"Of course not, sir, who would dare?" – Severus let it slip while his fragile patience wore off completely. "It is obvious that I am the bad egg here. I researched magic rarely used, I made questionable friends, I was the one of us who tried to right out what went wrong in his family, I was the only one to ever try using magic for political gain, WAS I NOT?!"

Despite Snape's voice steadily rose in volume until one might have perceived as if he was shouting at the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore seemed to calm down.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Severus?"

With a short sigh, as if he just huffed out the air, Snape seemed to gather his better sense.

"Yes, sir, I believe there is. Namely, that you have no basis for judging me. You could never present me with a reason for self-reproach more severe than what I have already known. I bet you know what it feels like," – he added. "But instead of offering a helping hand to rebuild the life I have wasted, you volunteered to destroy the rest. Do you want to know my reasons, sir? As soon I would tell as you told me, who did the same for you."

The heavy silence in the room became awkward when the Headmaster comfortably sat down by his desk, and a sardonic smile appeared at the edge of his lips.

"And now, you all found me out, and, no doubt, you believe you know me. You unravelled my sin, so you imagine yourself in possession of the Holy Truth, don't you?" – Snape tried to cut in to deny his claims, but the Headmaster shook his head. "No, Severus, you've been clear enough. For what is a man if not the times when his judgment failed him? What are we all, but the worst of us? No matter if someone made a flicker of redemption a work of his life! Do you want me to bond with you over our sinful errors? Do you imagine you know how the loss of the closest friend to evil might mean?"

"Sir, I–"

"No, Severus," – the Headmaster shook his head again. "I will not pretend with you. I have never done that. I might have ruined my life at one point, but I have never sold my friends. Have you forgotten that? Or have you finally found what enables you to deny our cooperation? Are you looking for an escape from the confines of your own making?"

"No, sir,"- Snape answered somberly.

"Is it not? Then what is it to you? A breach of loyalty? My debt is not, and has never been for you. Maybe Alastor's daughter wasn't such a good choice to help us out after your ill-conceived attempt to maintain your cover, she–"

"She?" – Snape stared at the Headmaster with open disbelief. "You are the one to abandon her to her fate, just like I believe I would be had I proved myself less than useful for–"

"How long has it been the centre of your thoughts, Severus? How long has your loyalty been shifting to count another's needs before Lily's son's?"

Severus could not account for the hurt Dumbledore's words inflicted, but he dared not to examine his feelings or to move an inch of his shields, occluding Beauxbaton's definite presence in his mind. No. Dumbledore might be the one with the power to destroy him, he might be offering the one way for redemption, but he didn't make his choice for either of those.

With confidence, coming from his well-thought-out plans and resolve, Severus swung his wand in a circle and called for his Patronus. The silver doe escaped from the edge of the dark wood and ran her elegant route across the office before she disappeared into thin air.

"I know who I am, sir" – he added, seeing the amazed expression on the Headmaster's face.

"After all these years?" – Dumbledore stared at him, humbled by emotion.

"Always."

When he finally retreated to his quarters in the dungeons, Severus only then dared to loosen his occlumency. He let his magic roam the rooms while he looked for some peace of mind.

He gambled.

The magic evoking a Patronus was not fully researched, but the best he knew, it reflected on someone's truest qualities and the one those rooted in. And his qualities were defined by his promises and his intention to fulfill them. No matter with what purpose. Yes, Sage took him to Héloïse, and the witches gave him the memory of their library and garden, more, everything it all truly meant - but it was unreachable. Yet, anyway. Only the promises stayed.

Lily planted the seed to at least try and esteem himself, now Héloïse and Sage's sacred trust nourished the seedling. Whether he loved Lily or another, she gave him the fundamental quality to at least try. And however Dumbledore wanted to twist it, he did try for the better.

Severus wondered shortly if his Patronus would change in the off chance he survived this war. A strangely timid voice somewhere deep within his mind began to hope it would. But it wasn't the time for daydreams and vain hopes. Only an hour before breakfast, and he was tired as a dog. A wide-eye potion, a pepper-up potion, and shameless amount of coffee he required in his storage rooms for all the recesses from an astonished Chubby, and he was ready to begin the day.

Unfortunately, it all had to begin with the consequences and a croaking toad. The Great Hall was abuzz with cries of horror and disbelief as soon as the morning owls delivered the Daily Prophet. All tables discussed the startling news except for the students of Slytherin.

With hidden alarm, Severus observed his snakes' silence and mute understanding. They all knew the Dark Lord was back, no matter what the Ministry tried to promote. Thus none seemed surprised by him gathering forces. The wordless celebration on some faces, Jugson's poorly hidden grin learning his father was free at last… Their moments of joy were improper and dangerous, but also undeniable. Severus turned his head not to call onto them more attention than was absolutely necessary and regretted he couldn't discuss neither truth nor morality with them.

The Dark Lord freed his followers and the world became a more dangerous and more insane place. But these prisoners were also people. Fathers and uncles, wizards and witches, who had suffered for a long time. Not without reason, of course, but still just people, which no one could deny after glancing at young Jugson, now seeming even younger than his age, silently celebrating his father's freedom after thirteen years in the prison of hell.

And yet young Jugson's only sin was his love for a father he never knew. Would he support him still if he knew him? A rush of regret ran through Severus for not being in position to discuss the reality with his students. Especially not with those who would have needed his experience the most. Head of House indeed…!

He closed his eyes and forced calm and detachment before his glance trailed along the Head Table. No other seemed to give the Slytherin students any mind. Pomona was busy reading. Flitwick had just finished the editorial and now looked around, desperately trying to find someone to discuss it with. Sage sat next to him, but she had only begun to read. Severus's gaze lingered on her face a few seconds longer. She studied the pictures on the Prophet's first page as if she wanted to commit them all into memory. He suddenly was glad she didn't look up to meet his eyes.

Dumbledore was already sinking into deep conversation with McGonagall, vexing the Pink Toad to no end – it would have been amusing had he not felt so much on edge. As Severus reached for a copy of the Prophet to post himself on the latest news, he saw Minerva looking down at her House's table. The Gryffindors kept watching her and Dumbledore, but Potter seemed to spare a good long look for him… it was neither the time nor the place. Severus focused his attention on the paper instead, ready to be adequately surprised.

Finally, Flitwick couldn't contain his astonishment any longer and called above two heads to ask Sinistra about the article. "Horrible news, don't you agree, Aurora?"

The Professor of Astronomy felt cornered enough to choke on her tea, and with a spare glance at Umbridge, she passed on the question to one sitting closest. "Certainly. Sage, what do you think?"

"Why, me? Oh, horrible, of course!" – she glanced around and quickly found the Toad's marked attention on them all. "However, I cannot help admiring this Sirius Black, who singlehandedly brought down a whole prison island, hundreds of Dementors and who knows what, just to free his companions! Must be an exceptional gangster!"

Severus didn't recognize the moment when his last bite of toast stopped between his molars, only roused when he had to avoid choking. He was busy with his tea when Sage spoke up again: "Upon my word, he must be even more powerful than your previous Dark Lord! Filius, what is your opinion?"

"My…? Well, he was certainly not my dark–"

"Are you suggesting then the article is mistaken? Or are you daring to fault the Ministry?" – Umbridge quickly interrupted.

Sage's short, forced chuckle warned Severus to put the cup back on the saucer. He hadn't heard this pretentious sound since their first night at Grimmauld. "Oh, none of those! I am merely confused… Last time I've read, he was some famous rock star!"

Severus re-thought that sentiment about the teacup and decided it was still better to hide his forming grin.

Flitwick squeaked his apprehension: "The Quibbler should not be considered as a press product! No sensible witch or wizard should dirty a hand touching it."

"Oh, my…" – Sage seemed genuinely surprised – "are you telling me it is even worse reputed than the Witch Weekly?"

"The Witch Weekly is a highly reputable magazine," – the Pink was quick to point out. "I myself have given it a long and detailed interview about my work and plans just the last week."

"Oh, so I thought," – Sage delivered the silent punch for the intense glee of Aurora on her side and earning a strict glance from Minerva.

Flitwick grabbed onto the conversation: "Regardless of our sad state of journalism, this news is the worst I've read so far. I must think," –

"Oh, yes, Filius, I believe you should!" – Aurora interjected warningly with a measured smile towards the Toad.

"Talking about journalism," – Sage went on to avoid a sudden silence – "what does it say about the Prophet? Filling a whole page with pictures, no background… I would find a thorough analysis extremely useful!" – she chatted on senseless about rock bands and prisons until Flitwick showed himself sufficiently calmed, understanding Aurora's warning.

"That must be only because, as a foreigner, you have difficulties fully understanding our politics, dear," – Umbridge suggested with the sweetest condescension. "For all informed readers, it is plainly stated that the Ministry is master of the situation, and the general public should only refrain from interfering with our highly trained Aurors."

Let her win! - Severus couldn't help pleading in his mind, but all in vain, the witch's eyes glinted with a rare demonic light.

"Thank you, Dolores, for explaining. See, if I had to lack your precious guidance I might have believed to Le point de vue de la Sorcière, which suggested your Ministry might be in great trouble, and advised against travelling into a country with hundreds of Dementors roaming free of supervision, and without any means to even track them!"

Umbridge straightened in her chair – not that it changed much – and fixed her unforgiving glance on Professor Moody. "You should not read the foreign gutter press" – she graciously advised. "You cannot have any reason to do so, living here, after all."

Sage made a face of thoughtful consideration before she shook her head. "You must be exactly as right as ever, Dolores," – she forced a smile – "I just cannot resist!"

"You should!" – Umbridge insisted. "Whatever use do you have of those, really?"

Sage leaned closer with a theatrical whisper: "Nécrologies" – she intimated with a small shrug of pleasure – "Don't you find them… fascinating?"

Severus stuffed all the rest of his toast into his mouth to occupy his facial muscles while he kept his gaze stubbornly on the sugar-basin, despite the Toad seemed, for the moment, silenced. He made his escape as soon as he could.

And this same witch had the nerve to once call him shameless! - with re-occurring thoughts about her, the day wasn't as tedious as he imagined it would be. Some of his better mood somehow survived even the abysmal classes, in spite of feeling guilty whenever he recalled the witch's barbs at the breakfast table. The guilt was enough to avoid the Great Hall but totally insufficient to get her out of his mind.

At least not until he entered the Slytherin Common Room in the evening before his Tuesday patrol on the corridors. The students were in awe about the news, their careful nature being the only boundary to contain their enthusiasm. Those who wanted to join could hardly hold back now, and those who didn't, had never been more silent. The children belonging to the first circle occupied the best places around the hearth and by the tables with utter complacency. And there was nothing he could say. Nothing at all.

The frustration took Severus through the Halls and corridors that night. His only comforting thought was to stick to his plan and end this madness as soon as he could. Before all these boys and girls could make the same mistakes he made. Two hours passed with strolling through different corridors and passes, without more happening than sending a timid second-year back to Hufflepuff and taking some gratifying points from Gryffindor – all justified, Jordan could have had more sense than to let himself be caught in his sixth year!

Severus peeked out the window on the third floor and saw the lights were on in hothouse no. 2. Sprout would never disappoint. – he thought then. Flitwick must be having his rant to his heart's content already. Then he remembered who else might be there. Not that it mattered – he readily lied to himself to keep his calm.

Led by pure and strictly general curiosity, Severus hid behind a corner close to the Entrance Hall and counted all who left for the gathering. He markedly did not notice that Beauxbaton wore a nondescript winter cloak, not Hogwarts black, not Beauxbaton blue. And he definitely did not linger out on the drafty corridors, struggling against all his wishes to finally fall asleep just to see her return.

Something already foretold in his mind, she wouldn't even attend to Pomona's club. And the thought was disturbing. It made him feel even more powerless. All those emotions mixed up with the frustration he carried since he left Slytherin's Common Room… and he returned to his quarters with renewed resolve.

Severus packed his trunk with some Muggle clothes, books, a potion- and first aid kit from that shelf, a Muggle tent, and a purse full of foreign money. The next he needed was a time and a place, but he left those for the morning. It was a risky attempt even with a fresh mind.

His gaze slid over that purse in the open trunk, and he tried to picture himself as a kid with such a fortune… it wasn't something he could easily imagine. And here, the result of years of monotonously working and never actually spending for anything even remotely resembling a life, he had three times as much as that. It wasn't even a question if to invest it or not, but the emotion surrounding this money almost threw him off balance.

His father would have never spent this amount of money on him. Even the thought was absurd. He would have never had it in the first place; he would have drunk it sooner than to get it together, but still… Tobias died before he ever had to pay for anything about him. And now Severus prepared to spend one-third of his savings on his father's dream – how ridiculous it even sounded!

Severus flopped down onto the edge of his bed and lamented for a second the true insanity of life. He would have given all and everything as a child to ever have money like he had now – yet now he didn't even spend it. As an adolescent boy, he would have sooner rebelled against his father than to accommodate his wishes – and look at him now, spending on him more than the old fart probably had ever seen put together!

No, not on him! This whole attempt was not about Tobias at all.

However, the thought he was spending this for Sage, probably the richest pure-blood witch he had ever encountered, was also ridiculous. An old, wicked voice whispered to his ear he should run with it instead. What was there for him in such a witch, anyway? He could have also wished for the Moon; his pathetic savings wouldn't buy that either!

Severus kicked the trunk's lid closed with a thud and leaned back on his bed. The next he knew was Chubby balancing around him with a tray of coffee, some toasts and an invitation to the Malfoys carried by an early owl.

A breakfast without Beauxbaton, endless row of classes, lunch within four seats of a very tired witch he wished to adore and didn't dare to look at, another set of inane classes, and Severus returned to his bedroom. He called Chubby to produce the parchment he had entrusted in his care and to help if something went awry, lightened the trunk of its weight with a quick charm to hold it, and he pulled his additional calculations from his pocket. The exact place and time.

He hated to Apparate into the unknown. He could envision it, of course, he had seen pictures, photographs from multiple angles, even a painting – a Muggle one. He had read various descriptions, it still was a gamble, and he even had to focus on the time. Discipline! – he told himself. Focus!

"Locumtotum vocatur"

The house-elf was beside himself when for a second his form wavered, then he grabbed after the edge of his bed, not to lose balance completely.

"Master didn't take long, Master succeeds?" – Chubby squeaked, trying to assist him and looking for the trunk which wasn't there.

"I told you, you wouldn't perceive the time," –he chided the elf. "Now, give me something to eat. Anything will do."

Chubby popped away, and Severus knew if he laid down, he would fall asleep before he closed his eyes. So as not to miss his session with the brat he strolled into his living room. The elf returned with cold meats and fruit. Severus didn't hesitate to dive in.

"Chubby can help whatever Master needs. Chubby can make food for Master to take. Chubby can–"

"It is all right, elf. It's only the beginning. I was surprised, I have to admit, but things will work out sooner or later. One thing is true, Chubby; the scenery is beautiful."

"Master needs food and wash, not scenery," – the elf gestured on his dirty hands and dusty robe, and Severus finally had a short laugh, the first in weeks. Or was it more?

Retrospectively, Potter's performance wasn't worth the effort to cut his snacks short and tidy his appearance. The brat had never practised a moment! Severus chose to be livid to avoid despair, but that didn't help at all, either. Truth be told, he was clueless about how to make the wonder-boy cooperate. He tried to frighten him but doubted Potter understood. He tried to praise him, but that didn't even seem to get to him. Building on his sense of duty or diligence were aborted ideas in his experience, to begin with, and they simply just had no time for this debility!

Severus walked up to the Great Hall with a secret wish to see the witch, his newfound compass in the madness, but she wasn't even there. If he wasn't so hungry, he might have turned in the doorway. As it was, he struggled through dinner before returning to the piled-up essays and his all-time duty to correct and mark them without a hope to get rid of his frustration. Then a knock sounded on his door, his wards fell silently, locks broke open, and the witch entered, closing the door hastily behind her.

A massive rush of adrenalin, and maybe also something else, chased away his weariness as he jerked his head.

"Beauxbaton," – he uttered as a greeting.

The witch wore the same nondescript cloak he saw the previous night. Severus had to wonder if she was coming or going. Then a mischievous smile spread over her lips, and she took his breath away.

"So – No explosion this time?"

"The thought is tempting," – Severus gestured over the third years' essays – "I'm afraid you have to settle for my being surprised."

"As I intended" – the witch admitted cheerfully. "I won't disturb you for long. Only came to congratulate you – or whatever is the common approach in such occasions."

"On what occasions?" – Severus eyed the approaching witch with some agitation, especially when she saw fit to sit at the edge of his desk, shedding her travelling cloak along the way.

"Why, you acquired your elf, of course! I'm not familiar with the protocol in such cases, but I felt at least congratulations were in order." – She picked up an essay to see the title, grimaced, and let it fall back on the pile. "I'm coming from Albus, who severely reproached me for diverting your attention, whatever that might mean. He also suggested that I shouldn't try to approach you, so the only thing that felt right was to come straight down to visit."

Severus couldn't help but felt entertained and honoured at the same time. This was, again, standing up for him, for them, if that was anything to even consider, in a way. He leaned back on his chair, taking in her presence; the flow of her blue skirts over his desk and touching his legs straightened underneath it, her expression of challenge and confidence mixed with a hint of a question in her eyes and badly hidden weariness.

"He does have his own view about our friendship," – he risked the word and felt gratified seeing her pleasure.

"Certainly he has. By the way, how on earth could you extract anything from Aberforth? I tried in vain at least half a dozen times!"

"I seem to recall he mentioned that," – Severus teased her with an amused smile. It began to disturb him how much he was glad to see her, while he had no idea about her real reasons to seek him out. "Where have you been, Beauxbaton?"

Her eyes darkened with a suddenly implied shield to occlude

"Courting new friends and old enemies, so to speak. Nothing of great importance."

She stood up, and Severus followed her without a thought. He invited her to sit by his coffee table with a gesture. It was easier to maintain some calm with the additional space between them. His brain at least was quicker to work.

"You met them," – it sounded like an accusation no matter if he intended it or not.

"Yes."

Severus took a long breath to talk some sense into her. The fugitive Death Eaters were not the crowd he wished her to associate with! So what got into Lucius to risk the Dark Lord's golden eggs laying goose for such a mob? – But she cut him off before he could utter a single word.

"You shouldn't worry about me! I promise. Most of these beasts are only as bad as those I have already known. Mulciber praises you behind your back; you might be interested. He is the least horrible of them, although I don't fancy seeing him again soon. And I wouldn't force an acquaintance with Bellatrix… seriously, that witch is odd!" – she grimaced with feeling, alarming Severus way more than she probably thought she would.

"Did she hurt you?"

"I gave her no reason," – she plastered a smile on her face. "Now, will you stop worrying?"

"No."

This time her smile was genuine. "I would rather hear whatever has happened to you. You disappeared after Christmas; I couldn't find you. And now you look ready to faint from exhaustion. Is this about the Potter-boy? Or maybe your "outing" with the gang?"

He couldn't tell her about Azkaban even if he was allowed to. Severus rubbed his cheeks with both palms and tried to look as sane and confident as he possibly could.

"I'm all right…." – he tried to assure her, but all his pretense failed when his breath cut short upon her squeezing his hand.

"Sure," – she commented with just a pinch of sarcasm. "So, what's going on with you?"

After short consideration, the only part of the struggles he could share was his thoughts about Potter and their imminent failure. So he did just that. Severus enlisted all his doubts and most of his fears, even the way the brat triggered the worst of him with his reluctance to learn and constant disrespect.

"You were right; he doesn't even hear me. Or if he does, he refuses to listen. He hasn't even grabbed the basics of the concept! He has no subtlety at all or anything that even resembling a structure in his mind! Not a room, not a box, nothing to digest or store memories, facts, or emotions, just constant swirling of thoughts, or I'm yet to get to the deep mess! Unfathomable!"

"Headache?" – the witch tactfully asked when Severus rubbed his face again.

"The least of my problem, but yes, constantly. Especially after having a dive into this utter chaos."

Sage leaned closer, and her eyes lost the disturbing shade of her shields. "Can I relieve it?" – she offered so openly, so matter-of-factly, Severus wanted to hug her or to yell.

Oh, Merlin, it was tempting! So tempting, he unconsciously licked his lips and snarled in frustration when he finally said no. The witch had no way to know what she truly offered – he told himself, standing and walking about his room. If he sank into her mind with his emotions and heightened senses, if he looked into her eyes now long enough to even try… Guilt.Freaking, ever-present guilt, for he should be a better master of himself. He shouldn't come so close to losing control. He had a plan! Discipline! - the command was so forceful he had to check if he uttered the word aloud.

He didn't. The witch patiently waited in her armchair, only raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you trust me so much?" – Severus finally asked.

"You damn well know why," – the witch's smile seemed sad beyond words. "But if that's not enough for you, I give you another reason: Potter has no way to know his luck. I had you in my mind, Severus, not once. There's no other with such a gentle touch, with such circumspection and reverence like you show when using Legilimency. You adore the human mind, and thus you're triggered by the shortcomings a child's mind inescapably manifests. It's not his fault but of those who brought him up thus far. I have complete trust in you because I know you… friend," – she added with the same sad smile lingering about her lips.

What could he have possibly replied? That she was wrong? That he never adored a mind; he adored her? And then? Where would it lead them?

"I'll try again," – he finally concluded.

"I know you will," – the witch smiled encouragingly and reached deep into her pocket. "And now the secret purpose of this visit," – she produced a polished black box and put it on the coffee table. "Happy birthday, Severus!"

"What?"

"9th January," – she peeked at her watch – "well, almost. The register said it was–"

"It is my birthday; I just didn't remember–" – Severus stared at her blankly for seconds. "I completely forgot."

Sage chuckled, and it was relieving. Usually, a witch laughing at him was annoying enough, now a blessing to knock him back to his senses. He wasn't one to get birthday presents and cakes. Why did she bother? It was puzzling… mind-blowing!

"All the better," – the witch presumed – "come and open it!"

He did as he was urged, without spoiling the moment with thinking. The box held two phials in emerald-colour velvet, one red like blood and the other almost translucent with shimmering yellow and green light.

"This one is Arthur Weasley's blood sample, the one that still contained Nagini's venom," – the witch pointed out the red one – "sorry, but the extracted venom was out of reach. And this," – she pointed on the other phial – "is the antidote, Medi-wizard Smethwyck developed to heal him. It's a small dose, I know, but maybe if you find time to research and extract the venom from the sample yourself–"

Her voice died into a surprised gasp when Severus shortened the distance between them with a sudden leap and grabbed her hands not to hug her.

"How?!"- he demanded, searching her eyes in true amazement.

"I have my ways," – she smiled, but it only pushed Severus to his limits, and despite himself, he shook both hands he held.

"Witch, you won't get away with something like that, not this time! Where did you get these?"

"In St. Mungo's, of course. Molly was eloquent about their struggles, it gave me an idea, and I spent my free time making friends with Smethwyck. He wasn't easy to break, but with long conversations and some assistance to get a comfortable village home for his mother… Do you like it at all?" – she asked, suddenly discouraged.

Severus had to laugh at her expression. "Like?" – he repeated with disbelief and absentmindedly kissed the hands he held. "Witch, you have no idea!"

"Do I have any idea about you should have an antidote against that abhorrent snake's venom at your disposal?" – Sage laughed with him and caressed his cheeks. "Believe me, I have."

Somehow there were no more boundaries between them, hands holding, careful kisses on digits and palms, a caressing touch, then another, and Severus felt his head light and empty. The scents of the witch's skin and hair filling his nostrils like they used to in the attic so long ago… It wasn't even possible to tell which one of them initiated them moving towards each other. His hands just slipped up on Sage's arms, stroking, squeezing, feeling her completely–

Until she hissed with pain. "Have a care!" – she whispered, and the moment broke.

Being more than ready to give the witch his undivided attention, Severus' gaze slid along the arms he held and saw the angry red rashes about her robe's collar. Sage tried to hide them behind her hair. He lifted her locks for closer inspection. The lines of red rashes ran both ways on her right arm and on her back under her clothes. They looked like marks of a whiplash, not too deep on her neck or shoulders, but who knew what else she was hiding.

"Who did this?"

Sage pulled away visibly uncomfortable and way too hesitant for Severus' liking.

"I will not tell you," – she silently said. "Please don't!" – she pleaded when Severus's eyes narrowed in anger. "It's not as bad as it might seem. And you don't know the one who cast it…. It didn't even happen here, and it wasn't really meant for me, so just forget it, will you? I kind of stepped into it… like catching an errant spell, an accident," – she finished in as light a tone as she possibly could.

"Accident," – Severus repeated. His glance slid onto the box containing the magnificent phials she got for him on his birthday, and his feelings were so much at odds with each other he could only shake his head. Here was the reminder why he should stay away, a reminder of the war. "Do you have dittany?"

Sage shook her head, and he silently walked over to his study door, out to his storages and retrieved a well-rounded bottle of the ointment he trusted the most. It was not a long walk, only enough for his gloom to return with the headache and the guilt.

Severus pressed the bottle into the witch's hand, not trusting himself enough to talk.

"I– I wasn't supposed to be there," – Sage carefully mentioned. "Actually, I wasn't even there– because nobody saw me. Do you understand this?"

He understood more by hurt and anger than what she let on, but when he replied, Severus' voice was calmer than he expected it would be. "I understand that you had no accidents, and I haven't seen you tonight if I'm not completely wrong."

Sage stared into his eyes long enough to make it hard to maintain the farce of coldness. "I'm sorry," – she said as a goodbye and slipped out of his rooms while Severus stood motionless, staring at the latch long after she was gone. He tried to remember if he had sent the witch away or was it a work of circumstance.

The blush that flamed on her face would haunt his night - he knew that. And the phials, even the thought! He remembered how her last present had floored him, and now, when she did something truly amazing… because this was exactly what he missed and needed, he knew it was… Still, now he felt a strange pang of disharmony. A bad aftertaste. Because this shouldn't have happened.

He shouldn't have lost his mind, for however short a moment, and she shouldn't have had walked into an errant curse. If someone, Severus knew: there were no such things as errant curses, and if one was whiplashed, that was anything but an accident. But he accepted her lies. And loathed them.

It was really the last thing to do, but the temptation to nose out something about her escapades at the Malfoys was too great to resist, and Severus found himself waiting for Sunday. With his regular visits to his safe place, building it up and preparing it to his liking, with the endless flow of essays to mark, and of course the classes, the week flew away like the blink of an eye.

Unlike the awkwardness at the Malfoy table. The event could have been less tedious had Narcissa not decided to invite Mulciber and Avery with the Lestranges. Bellatrix's presence could poison a Black Mamba without her uttering a word. Sadly, she wasn't considerate enough to offer such a happy occurrence. Instead, she ordered her sister around, whined about her experiences in Azkaban and waxed eloquent about the majesty of the Dark Lord, leaving the others only a chance to nod or raise a glass in agreement.

Rodolphus didn't seem to mind her ramblings. He never had. Severus had a hunch about him being selectively deaf was the main sustaining quality that kept their marriage together throughout the years – and the long absence of any marital duties while among the Dementors, of course. Rodolphus and Mulciber were happy to indulge in whatever the house could offer. They ate and drank and ignored the disturbing noise of a cackling witch. Severus wished he could do just the same.

As soon as it wasn't considered rude, Lucius made his escape, leaving the ungrateful duty of listening to Bella to his wife, situating Rodolphus and Mulciber safely in the billiard room with some booze, and thoughtfully rescuing Avery and Severus to join him in his study. There the silence was blissful for long moments they all treasured before Avery felt the need to converse, and sadly his subject of choice also felt dreadful.

"So Snape, I remembered our little pranks the other night!" – he began with false cheer. "Iris reported to the Dark Lord. I wonder how you didn't work out a way to get us to the Order."

Severus played with his wineglass and peeked at Lucius to ascertain what this would lead up to, but his friend didn't want to help him this time.

"Fidelius is tricky, shall I remind you" – he pulled his lips with distaste as he replied. "I tried to jump Black out of his hole. It's not my fault if he's a pathetic coward."

Avery snickered. "Oh, yes, as we have all heard it! Iris was quite entertaining when she told the Dark Lord how you almost sliced the git to pieces around Christmas."

"Was she really?" – Snape turned his head toward Lucius just to make sure his standing was beyond reproach.

"Oh, this time she was, indeed," – Malfoy nodded. "Her cousin must be a shitty Occlumens. You should maybe try to probe her mind yourself someday!"

"I'm sure it would be great fun under Dumbledore's nose," – Severus was not happy about the suggestion.

"That might not pose a problem for too long," – Lucius suggested with a smile. "Her days at Hogwarts are numbered. Not that she had any particular use there, it's time to move her."

Severus swallowed hard. "Is it already? I thought she had a contract for the school year. How do you plan to cover up for her absence?" – he asked on the lightest tone, masking his nervousness by sipping from his wine.

"I had you in mind for that task, my friend," – said Malfoy. "You're our stronghold there, aren't you? With that puppet of Fudge, I doubt it would prove hard to find her a way out."

"Yeah," – Avery chimed in. "Just give the hag reason, and she would be free of all obligations."

"Do you want me to get Moody's daughter fired?" – Severus contemplated. "Perchance our lord has already another position for her in mind?"

"I certainly hope he would approve of it, but actually, my friend, this congenial idea was mine." Lucius smiled without a hint of modesty, as it was his way when plotting, and Severus was grateful for his magic to reinforce his occlumency.

"Tell me about it!" – he invited the inevitable bragging.

Lucius was only too happy to oblige. "You see, we were working on the Ministry relentlessly in these past months, but the details… The last step is always the most complicated," – he sighed. "After the fiasco before Christmas, we couldn't have another slip, so I've decided to curse Arthur Weasley as soon as he resumes his position. Aside from the Unspeakables, he is the most knowledgeable about the lower levels. Avery's working on that Department, by the way. He expects some good news in the coming month, however…" – Lucius straightened his legs and walked around in his study with a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat at its worst.

"We've gathered a lot in France. For the Dark Lord's benefit, course," – he added quickly.

"Of course," – Severus obediently agreed, and Avery laughed.

"The Roux put their hands on the Rasical townhouse in Paris and the Coquinne ancestral home by Nancy. I'm waiting for reports now about breaking the infamous liar of Polla Poultron. The witch has much more use in gathering resources than spying after you. You are beyond reproach, after all."

Severus forced a tight smile.

"Can you imagine all the richness and gifts of those spell books and artifacts these blood-traitors hoarded together along the centuries?" – Lucius was in a rare state of awe, which Severus found increasingly disturbing. Especially because, as a matter of fact, he could. "I'm tempted to put down even ten percent of their worth and buy that bloody prophecy with the under levels of the Ministry just to make my lord happy. But Severus, we might not have to go that length!"

"I've been to Nancy this week," – Lucius carried on. "The wealth of the Coquinne curia is ridiculous–"

"Don't you think giving up on all that might influence the witch's alliance?"

"I have no doubt about her. She is blinded by her faith in the cause… just like we all are, of course…" – Lucius glanced at Avery before he continued – "Iris has no objection until she's sufficiently entertained. Finally, Nott convinced them to turn in their precious Aunt. I admit I cannot wait to see her spell books."

"Oh, and Nott is also over the moon," – Avery assured.

"With reason," – Lucius nodded. "Our first transfer from the Rasical house has already arrived. Would you like to take a look?"

Severus was only too eager to do so, hoping to understand the game and find a way to step in if he could. Avery didn't want to miss this chance either.

They gathered around a bureau and surveyed various tomes and jewelry contained within, in preserving boxes. All pieces screamed cursed even before having a closer look. Severus levelled a questioning eye on Lucius, but he seemed too far taken to understand his look.

"Can you find this one out?" – he held a box out for Severus to examine, with an exquisite carcanet lying on blue velvet pads.

Severus was reluctant to touch it, but Lucius took it from its container and thrust it into his hands.

"I wouldn't suggest wearing it, though," – he explained. "At least not before someone breaks the curse. Would you like to have a try, or will you just tell me about its use?"

Seeing the strange glitter in the bastard's greedy eyes, Severus suspected Malfoy already knew the answer for his second question. He focused on the necklace in his hands and had a long look into the stone crafted between mother-of-pearls on a pendant. It shone with the rays of the sun, invitingly, while his magic recoiled from the heavy curse embedded into the socket. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the shinning stone though, there was something more to this jewel than beauty and death.

"Seershmuck," – Lucius breathed reverently.

Severus paled more than normal. "Are those still existing?"

"This one does," – Lucius announced. "Can you imagine our lord's joy when presented with this rarity? Of course, he would lift that curse with a whim; Sage told us her ancestors applied such protections by default."

While Lucius showed off the other precious antiques, Severus gave in to the temptation to caress the surface of the shiny stone. As soon as his fingers shadowed what seemed to be a sunray emitted from the jewel, a faint form of a woman stood beside him in the room.

A quick glance at the others, but they seemed unbothered by the additional presence. Lucius was giving a lecture to Avery about everything expensive and rare… Severus lifted one more finger and shadowed another ray. The phantom's contours seemed to solidify. One more finger, and her skin was less translucent. This witch looked familiar, although he couldn't tell why.

The phantom knocked her head to the side and examined him patiently, with a glance disturbingly similar to Sage's. The next moment an unknown power touched his mind.

Sustaining his occlumency caused immense pain, but finally, Severus recognized the phantom as Mira Rasical. He pushed a memory at the forefront of his mind to prove his intentions, hoping to escape the curse – he showed his memories about meeting Héloïse, and his most recent exchange with Sage, when he held her hands before things went awry. The pain stopped, and the phantom wavered for a second.

"You are the dark knight" – she whispered – "I always hoped you were real, even when she believed you a childish dream!"

Severus glanced toward Avery and Malfoy, still deep in conversation, and didn't dare to reply.

"They cannot see me, but they see you," – Mira nodded. "Are you prepared to protect her?"

Severus risked a hesitant nod. He was ready to protect whom he thought Mira meant but had he any means to do so?

"You must not!" – The phantom demanded. "Since she enclosed me in here, I'm in contact with the seer. Listen!" – Her voice became so monotone it was hard to discern her meaning:

"– you need to teach a boy unwilling because he is in deadly danger – you have to kill your true enemy four more times to conquer him – you have to win a battle and lose your war –"

"Have you managed to lift that curse?" – Lucius turned back, watching with open curiosity his friend's fingers playing above the gem.

Severus persisted and didn't move a muscle. Let Malfoy go to the deepest hell, let him take him too if he must, but he wouldn't miss the end of a prophecy again. Not a chance!

"–the only way to save love is to make love save you –" – the Phantom's voice returned to what it initially sounded, and she resembled Mira Rasical even more, whom Severus only saw once in her cousin's mind. "Tell her I'm sorry! Tell her what you are for her she must be waiting! The next one who touches this gemstone will die a thousand deaths, beware it not being you, dark knight! Take courage, when you lose your last hope, your prize is nearby."

With those last words, the phantom dissipated with a hiss and a sharp blow of air that pushed Severus' fingers away from the pendant.

"It is beyond me," – he was quick to replace the carcanet into its container; he even closed the lid on the box. "I'm afraid I started another curse, defending the gemstone. No one should risk touching," – he warned Malfoy, knowing his penchant to finger his favourite acquisitions. Severus waited for Lucius to put the box away and only talked after hearing him mumbling about the Dark Lord breaking any curse. "You undertake unusual risk. There is no assurance throughout history for a seer's conserved essence to cooperate. Not even–"

"I know, I know, but we are talking about the Dark Lord and his excessive abilities. If there is a seer, he would have the power to contact her," – Malfoy argued.

"Would you risk so much?" – Severus couldn't help asking. "To contact the seer, even if it exists, would penetrate any mind that might try it. You know the legends, the curses, the failures– It's no coincidence these artifacts are extinct!"

"I need something to offer," – Malfoy hissed and turned away.

Avery couldn't hear him, only Severus's worries, and laughed them off with a vain attempt to ridicule Bella and general blindness. Severus wandered about the room, wishing for a moment of freedom to think.

Yet another Prophecy. Yet another threat he had to hear against a witch he treasured. And the warning that he had to lose the war…. Their Marks igniting at the same time was almost a welcome occurrence. At least it pulled him out of his darkest fantasies. Severus saw Malfoy gathering up the box with the pendant before they all Apparated to Little Hangleton to face their lord together.