Snape looked up over the top of his book, just for a second so they boy wouldn't know. He didn't know why he kept doing it. He was in the middle of a mystery, a good one, and Potter was elbow deep in cards and boxes, not much chance of him doing anything stupid.
He'd been keeping him later and later and he didn't know why. Maybe because there was some strange comfort in their routine. In their shared hatred. In the way time just dragged on and on, as though he'd stopped the inexorable march towards their own deaths, or at least slowed it down awhile.
He finished the book and shifted in his seat, but he'd been sitting there so long he was sore. No matter what position he sat in he couldn't get comfortable, and Potter kept glancing out the window. He supposed it was time to quit.
"That is all for today," said Snape. "You may go."
Potter muttered something under his breath and shoved the cards into the box. Snape pretended not to hear him. He slipped his book into his pocket and watched him walk away. That bloody image kept surfacing in his mind, the boy being chased up a tree while his own relatives stood underneath and laughed at him. He pushed it away.
But he couldn't forget that the boy was being lead to his own slaughter.
Snape put his book away and went up to dinner but he was so deep in his thoughts he ran straight into Minerva.
"Do watch where you're going, Severus," she said. She looked him over. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," said Snape.
Minerva gave him a wry smile. "Detention with Potter getting you down? I swear, Severus, if you make his detentions any longer you may as well have him move in there."
Snape had a most unpleasant vision of Potter in his pyjamas, asking if he had any spare pillows.
"Well, perhaps a game of cards would cheer you up?" said Minerva. "We're meeting in the staff room after dinner."
"I suppose I could."
And so after he'd finished his dinner and stopped a few troublemakers from setting of Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Entrance Hall, he walked into the staff room and sat down between Sprout and Flitwick.
He ate some crisps and drank Hagrid's dandelion wine and won a few rounds , but he couldn't stop the feeling that they had already left him.
Snape murmured the password to the Slytherin common room and walked inside. The atmosphere was much more strained than he liked to see. The Slytherins kept up their show of unity to the rest of the school, but a good quarter of them were firmly against the Death Eaters, a few of them even Muggle-born. They'd taken to sitting together, walking together in packs, away from the likes of Parkinson and Zabini and Nott, who were sitting in the best places by the fire.
Snape knew before he even entered the common room that Draco wouldn't be there.
He cleared his throat to get their attention and the room fell silent.
"Has anyone seen Mr. Malfoy?"
Parkinson and Zabini locked eyes and Nott looked nervously about the room.
"I haven't seen him sir," said Zabini.
"What about Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle?"
"I saw them at dinner," said Miss Parkinson. "But I haven't seen them since."
Because they were with Draco, of course.
"Very well," said Snape. "If you see him let me know immediately." He stared at them a moment, then left the room.
Snape had been tailing Draco long enough to know where he was going. That room, the one he'd snuck off to with Mulciber and Avery and Regulus all those years ago, the one where he'd found the mirror his third year teaching.
He took the stairs almost at a run, even though he knew there wasn't much chance of getting in there. He'd been trying for months without any success.
The back of his neck prickled. There was something different about this night, he could feel it.
He heard the brisk clack of boots along the stones and he turned to see Tonks striding down the corridor, her face tired, serious, resolute.
"What are you doing here?" said Snape, getting straight to the point.
Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Always the friendly one, aren't you? Professor Dumbledore sent for me."
Snape reached for his wand on instinct, the way he might reach up to scratch his nose. "What's going on?"
"Nothing serious. He just wanted extra security. Said he'd be away from the school awhile."
Snape let go of his wand and swept down the corridor.
"Toffee eclairs," he muttered, and the stone gargoyle stood aside. He took the moving steps at a run, not stopping til he'd reached Dumbledore's office.
There was no sound but the gentle whirring and huffing of his instruments. The desk chair was empty. He'd missed him. Shit.
Fawkes was on his perch, picking at his wing feathers. He was rough and sickly-looking, jagged red feathers sticking up at odd angles. Almost burning day. Snape ran a finger along the top of his head and found it a lot softer than he'd expected.
"How do you put up with him?" he murmured, stroking his face. Fawkes nipped at his finger.
"I suppose the old schemer knows what he's doing."
Sweet Merlin, he was talking to a bird. Dumbledore's eccentricity must've been rubbing off on him after all those years. He gave Fawkes' head one last tap and walked away.
Just as he left the office Fawkes let out a soft, musical cry.
Snape rummaged through the drawer until he found the vial. Colourless, nearly odourless. Just a little bit bitter.
Just like falling asleep. It's just like falling asleep.
He slipped it into his pocket and waited. He opened a book but couldn't read it.
He didn't know how much time passed. Hours maybe, his fire was getting low. Snape stood up to stoke it when his mark burned black.
He slammed his book shut and stood up just as the door to his office burst open.
"Death Eaters!" shouted Flitwick. "In the castle-seventh floor-"
Snape wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew if Flitwick got in the way he'd be killed. He drew in a deep breath.
You're just keeping him safe.
"Stupefy!"
Flitwick fell to the floor.
Just like falling asleep.
He ran out the door into Miss Lovegood and Miss Granger. That arrogant, reckless girl. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. He had to keep them safe, out of the way.
"Flitwick's collapsed," he said. "Take care of him while I go see what's happening."
Snape pelted up stairs and through the corridors. The room on the seventh floor, that's where they'd come in, he knew it. He didn't stop until he got there.
There were flashes of light and shouted curses, but no Dumbledore. Snape kept running.
He followed the trail of damage to a solid stone wall that blocked the entrance to the Astronomy tower. Tonks was slamming herself against the entrance, trying to get through. She raised her wand.
"Reducto. REDUCTO!"
Snape pushed past her.
He thought something would happen, that a cold draught of air might blow across him as though he'd passed through a portal into another life. But there was nothing to mark his passage through. The stairs were so still, so ordinary.
He heard rough voices, and then he knew. The old man wasn't alone.
He would have to use a killing curse.
Don't make me do it.
There was a low rasping growl that could only be Greyback. Fucking hell. The beast was going to rip his throat.
Snape closed his eyes. One last second of peace. Why couldn't everything just stop? If he had a time-turner or something...
But he didn't. He ran up the stairs.
He saw them. Greyback, Yaxley, the Carrows. Rowle. He welcomed the anger that filled him, the hatred. He needed it.
The boy was standing in front of Dumbledore, lowering his wand. So he would be spared. Snape didn't know what he felt.
"Severus."
The old man was slumped against the wall, his hat covered in silver stars and sitting crookedly on his head. His glasses were falling down his nose and Snape could see his eyes, wide and afraid. A bit of spit glistened at the side of his mouth.
He had no business looking so human. Let those blue eyes be cool, calculating, rational. It's all right my dear boy, everything is going to plan, why don't you just get on with it already?
"Severus...please..."
And Dumbledore was drinking hot chocolate and Dumbledore was singing to himself and Dumbledore was asking him to take his life.
Snape raised his wand.
He needed to feel it. But he didn't.
He looked into the old man's face. You scheming bastard, why are you making me do this?
But it wasn't strong enough. He looked into Dumbledore's eyes and he could've sworn he saw his own face looking back at him.
His own twisted, wretched face.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Dumbledore's eyes widened like a surprised child. Then he fell.
Just like falling asleep.
Only it wasn't. He fell and fell and fell.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter should be up in a week or two.
