Ch 1

"But it's no use now," thought poor Alice, "to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!"

-Lewis Carroll

Out of the ashes of war, a hero emerges.

That hero is not Severus Snape. His deeds did not allow him to be the hero

He could feel the dark robe brushing against his skin. He couldn't wait to tear it off. Its appearance wasn't much different from his usual attire but the energy was all wrong. Just putting it on left a bad taste in his mouth. It felt like poison. His pocket was heavy with the weight of his mask. The mask itself was light and yet its presence made him drag his feet and he felt like he was sinking into the floor.

The air smelled damp and musty. It was such a stark contrast and relief from the smell of coppery blood he was surrounded by earlier. The night was silent and even though his feet didn't make a sound as walked through the cobbled stone floor, every footstep echoed in his mind. It was one step further away from the darkness and cruelty he has been subjected to. It was his own fault, really. He didn't know that when he became a death eater at seventeen that it would entail all of this. But he should have. He made a mistake and now he was paying for it.

His mouth was dry. He had a glass of water on his desk waiting for him. But he knew if he tried to drink it, he would just throw it up. He had just witnessed a coworker of ten years murdered in front of him and he had to stomach it while in the presence of the Dark Lord. But he couldn't do it here. Not in the same halls she walked. The same halls he now had to walk.

Severus stalked through the courtyard after making his way from the gates. He had just returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord and his inner circle of Death Eaters.

Charity's death had been a new development. Certainly not much of a development in the grand scheme of the war. But it was a personal one. He and Charity Burbage weren't exactly friends. But they were coworkers and it was hard not to converse with her when he sat next to her at many of the staff meetings. It was a shame that she had to die, especially in the way she had gone out. It was even bitter to have to listen to her beg him for help. All it did was remind him how he couldn't save her. No one could save her. Not in the end. Death was a mercy compared to what the other death eaters would have done to her. The thought alone made his mouth fill up with bile. He could really go for a drink right about now. Something a lot stronger than firewhiskey. Not a healthy response but certainly an effective method of removing those memories from the forefront of his mind. But he didn't want to feel the disapproving stare of his old friend, Dumbledore.

He really needed a vacation.

He rarely ever left Britain, and when he did, it was only to collect potion ingredients or to talk with other potion masters. He hasn't had any time in recent years to conduct his own research or perform his own experiments, as he had loved to do when he was younger. Though he did enjoy going to the city he detested crowds. People made him uncomfortable. He found himself continuously looking over his shoulder. He wished he could drop everything and run away. To escape from his problems, responsibilities and promises. To not be chained by the mark on his arm. He often thought about backpacking across the Faroe Islands, or even the eastern coast of the United States. To stand on the edge of a cliff and watch as the waves came crashing against the rock. To look out across the water and see into oblivion. While most of colleagues were able to travel during school vacations, Severus' situation was quite different from theirs. Sometimes dreams don't come true.

He used to dream that he would be a famous potions master. Creating and developing incredible cures for various diseases and ailments. Reversing some of the most dangerous spell work the world has ever seen. Even researching the dark arts further than he did when he was a student. He had dreamed he would travel the world. Give lectures on different brewing techniques and the proper ways to prepare ingredients. Perhaps he would even find a companion along the way whom he could share a life with. That had always been the vaguest part of his dream. He had never wanted a family, and he believed loved to be fickle. So it was never a priority or a necessity. The closest he would ever get to the field of education would be as an author of a textbook to help fund his retirement. Or perhaps give guest lectures as favors to those who didn't have the skill to be anything other than teachers.

Instead, he has been stuck as a teacher for the last sixteen years. Even though he only taught ten months of the year, it was exhausting and draining. During the school year, he was surrounded by loud children who allowed chaos to reign throughout the halls. Who didn't listen and didn't attempt to add anything to their empty heads. Ironically, it was the students, not his fellow Death Eaters, who were the source of his constant headache. Throughout the ten months, he was busy teaching and then grading thousands of essays. He has to prep all of the ingredients and clean up all of the potions after class is finished without magic. There are at least two detentions he has to oversee each week. Then he has his duties as head of Slytherin house. He has to be available at a moment's notice in case of any problems. That includes the middle of the night. He has to conduct house meetings and has office hours. Then there are the career meetings for fifth and seventh years. On top of all of that, he has to attend several staff meetings that take at least two hours each month. He is lucky if he even gets 6 hours of sleep each night. During the summer he is busy brewing potions for the infirmary as well as fulfilling contracts with St. Mungos. He has to attend weekly staff meetings, as well as meet with the board of education to discuss the curriculum. He couldn't recall the last time he did something for himself. He is exhausted mentally. He has no clue how long he can continue living like this. He could barely function as is.

He felt as though he could collapse any minute. With every step, the impact shot up through his body. He currently has pain in between his eyes. But no amount of rubbing could alleviate it. He wished he could take a pain relief potion. Unfortunately, those potions had long since stopped helping him. When he saw a familiar form out of the corner of his eye, he knew his headache wasn't going to end any time soon.

Great. As if this evening couldn't get worse

"Minerva," He greeted softly and quietly. Despite classes not beginning for a month, he knew that Minerva was preparing for the upcoming changes this school will face now that it was under different leadership. His leadership. Of course, she would be wandering the halls despite it being long past midnight. He had hoped to avoid any conversation. But as the tabby cat trailed behind him in the shadows while he turned down two corridors it was obvious she was keeping her eyes on him.

She shifted into her human form. Her green robes looked almost as dark as his in the low lighting. She gave him a hesitant and reproachful look. Even though now she had to submit to his authority as headmaster, there in those eyes held a glint of strength. Defiance. The Scottish woman could become quite enraged when she was angry. Something he had experienced much over the years. The two of them had a love-hate relationship. They were always friends but they both enjoyed pushing each other's buttons. Especially when it came to Quidditch. And they both knew how to do it effectively.

"Headmaster," she replied with disrespect dripping off her tongue. "Out for a late-night stroll, I see", she commented, knowing quite well where he was returning from. The memory was too fresh for her to bring it up. He would have to tell her the news of what transpired. She would be devastated. Charity was a dear friend of hers. Minerva taught her and was even the one who encouraged her to become a teacher here.

"I could say the same about you." This wasn't the first time she followed him, and he knew why she did it.. Wondering and questioning his motives and every action. Though this is the first time they confronted one another.

"I suggest you assemble the staff for a meeting tomorrow. I would like to go over some new changes that will commence once the school year has started." He continued to walk away before he abruptly stopped as a thought occurred to him. He didn't bother to turn around. He couldn't bear to look her in the eye. It may just be the tipping stone in his already fragile state. "I also suggest that you pass along the message that if any staff member refuses to appear, the consequences will be severe." The strictness in his voice came naturally. He always made it a point while teaching to ensure that everyone would remember his severity when considering their next set of actions. And with the arrival of two new teachers this evening, forgiveness was something no one would bother to seek. There would be no room for second chances. Just pain and death.

When Dumbledore had offered him a second chance at life, he couldn't have refused. He never expected it to be so hard or last for so long. Though he knew it wouldn't be easy. He thought that by becoming a spy he could redeem himself of his past sins. Instead, he has fallen so far down the rabbit hole the light has long since gone out. He was subjected to always walking a thin line. Between the life of Professor Snape and the Death Eater. The line has always been blurred. He has long forgotten who Severus Snape was or who he should be. Right now he was the Death Eater.

And everything was going according to plan. He does exactly as he is told to. He always followed his instruction to a tee. Even when he so desperately wished he didn't. He wished that he could break the unbreakable vow Dumbledore placed on him a long time ago that prevented him from ever intervening in death eater raids or interrogation. He wished he was allowed to save even just one. One of the lives he had seen so cruelly and casually snuffed out. Instead he was subjected to watch others be tortured, raped, and killed. But Dumbledore insisted he plays the long game. Only watch and observe and report back. To come and go as he pleases and yet always remain hidden in the shadows. The information he provided was useful and did save lives in the long run and the bigger picture. But when he was left with Charity's screams and pleas for mercy echoing through his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if any of it was worth it.

Dumbledore seemed to think so. And right now it was all Severus could hold on to.

He always complained about Dumbledore's inability to keep his nose out of other people's business.

And his incisive lemon drop consumption. His ability to always speak in riddles drove Severus up the wall. His wardrobe made his eyes burn. His tuneless whistle as he wandered and paced set his teeth on edge and made him want to slam his head against a wall. He had this horrible habit of piling a hundred things for Severus to do. But Severus missed him.

He had kept him busy and accountable. He was never left too long alone with his thoughts, which was always a dangerous thing. He was forced to socialize but now without Dumbledore haranguing him, he referred back to his isolated and reclusive self. Dumbledore was the only person to give him a second chance and to believe that he could do some good in the world. He encouraged his experiments even though they were published under various aliases. It would not do him any good in the long run if people knew he was creating cures instead of posions. He was the only person who thought that he deserved to be happy. He strived to make sure he didn't drown in his guilt. Growing up Severus didn't have much of a father figure. But Albus was the closest he ever had to a family. And Hogwarts just doesn't feel the same without him.

He thought he would have more time. But nothing lasts forever and no matter how long someone runs from their past, it catches up to them. He may have had a few years of peace in between the wars. He could pretend he wasn't a death eater or a monster or a murder. But it didn't change the fact that was who he was. The thought still lingered in the back of his mind. One day he would have to take up the mantle and become the man he was disgusted by. He knew that it was a necessary evil. Someone needed to be a spy and infiltrate the death eaters. There had been others who willingly joined. But all of them were killed either by the Dark Lord's hand or by their own. They couldn't stomach what was required of them. He was the only man who willingly joined the ranks, then turned to the other side. And despite being on the side of good, he still had to do horrible things.

Ever since he killed Dumbledore he had been alone. He turned his back on the world and the world turned its back on him. Rightly so. Hogwarts had been his home for as long as he can remember. Though not often a pleasant one. The place was now his prison. The halls of Hogwarts were empty and cold and unwelcoming. Not even light could brighten up this place. No window opened could stop the feeling of suffocation he often felt.

I am the architect of my own destruction, Severus thought wryly as he stalked along the corridor.

He brought this upon himself. He has no one to blame for his misery except for himself. And maybe that was the saddest part. Perhaps he could have been happy if only he thought he deserved it. But now it was too late.

As he walked past a collection of portraits, he could hear the whispers of the dead call out and taunt him. Traitor. Murderer. He doesn't deserve to be the headmaster. Killer. Monster. Death eater scum. He never responded to the nameless faces. There was no point. Everything they said was true. And he couldn't justify his actions to them.

As he walked past the last portrait in the ark hallway as his wand illuminated the path. Though he knew the direction by heart. He heard the snide commentary of Phineas Black. However, as head of Slytherin house, he needed to be in contact with some of the portraits who would be able to quickly relay if there were problems with students from anywhere in the school. "Well if it isn't the prodigal son returning," Phineas sneered.

"I'm not in the mood," Severus said, quickly shining his light into the portraits' eyes. Temporarily blinding him without breaking his stride. He never quite cared for the late Headmaster.

It was better than the alternative. He would probably be long dead either by the Dark Lord's hand for defecting or by his own. Or had gone mad and insane from being imprisoned in Azkaban. Left to relieve his most horrible memories as the dementors suck all of the light out of him only for him to succumb to the darkness. People can't kill themselves in Azkaban. There were spells and wards preventing self inflicted injuries. If it was allowed, everyone in Azkaban would already be dead by now.

Any mental and physical pain was a result of his own making. He dug his grave now he must lie in it.

In the end, as long as the Dark Lord is defeated then what happens to him doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Though he desperately wished things were easier.

Like right now. He should have time to rebuild his mental shields, possibly have a drink of something that would make him forget about this night. Lock himself in his office and hide away from the world and consequences. Instead, he was forced to subject himself to conversation and the presence of Hermione Granger.

It was bad enough that he had to watch unimaginable horrors in the moment but then he had to relive it all over again by telling Miss Granger everything he had seen, heard, and experienced.

The job had belonged to Dumbledore. To be his handler and make the decision on which information is important, useful and credible. Then to pass it along to the rest of the Order. To look for patterns and outlier behavior. Anticipate future attacks and develop strategies to prevent possible attacks. That job now fell onto the shoulders of Hermione Granger.

He never wanted her to be his handler. He was prepared to do this on his own. He didn't want anyone else involved.

He was the one to blame for the whole arrangement. Dumbledore was egging him on and was persistent that he needed help from a member of the Order. Snape himself had sarcastically suggested Miss Granger, knowing that since she wasn't a member of the Order. Not an active member though she often stayed with them. And she was going to be too busy babysitting Potter so Dumbledore would never allow it. He was the fool in the end.

And now he was stuck with Miss Granger. The only person in the world to know that he killed Dumbledore in order to fulfill an unbreakable vow he made him agree to. That Dumbledore was already dying. And that in order to spare an innocent boy, he took matters in his own hand to affirm his position as the Dark Lord's loyal left-hand man. The only person who knows everything was an illusion. While the world and the Dark Lord believe him to be a loyal servant and death eater. And the order believes him to be a traitor. Hermione Granger knew the full story. He wasn't as cruel as the monster he was perceived to be.

Perhaps it was better if he was. He was infinitely and utterly alone. All that he once had and held onto was torn away from. And all he had left in their place was Miss Granger who paled in comparison.

In a way, he felt sorry for her. She understood what prejudices muggleborns faced in the wizarding world. And she had an idea after the Battle of Mysteries what war looked like. But she had no idea what she was signing up for as his handler. And now she had the weight of his words to slowly crush her hope. With all that he had told her and would eventually say. Well, it wouldn't be much of a surprise for the day to come when they both know the chance of them winning is low. But in the end, she is the one who would have to fake a smile and say everything is going to be alright.

He didn't have to. Thank Merlin, he rarely smiled. He wouldn't know how to muster up the strength to fake one.

As he came to the end of the corridor, he muttered one word to a dark and gloomy gargoyle blocking his way. "Dumbledore." It grumpily moved to the side and allowed him entrance. Thankfully the circular staircase moved on its own, and he could conserve some of his energy.

Home Sweet Home. He thought bitterly.

The large circular room was filled with windows, but no light seemed to shine through. The headmaster's office was once full. Despite the lack of color in the room, it was always bright. Though that probably had something to do with Dumbledore's influence. Or perhaps his choice of wardrobe.

And now it was a barren wasteland. The bookshelves were still present but less full and more muted in their topics. But everything else was gone. No perch for Fawkes. No side tables carrying lemon drops. No trinkets. No life or personality. This office didn't look like it belonged to the headmaster, more like the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom at the end of the year after the professor vacated. The portraits of the former headmasters remained on the walls. All were asleep, except for one.

"Severus, how was…." Dumbledore's portrait began to ask before he was abruptly cut off.

"Not now!" He sneered. He was not in the mood for an interrogation. Breathe.

He moved around to his desk. Despite his exhausted state, he didn't sit down in his chair. He knew that if he did sit, he wouldn't get back up.

He held onto the desk with his head hanging low. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his own reflection of a frame in front of him. Even in the distorted image, he could see his strongly black hair, his hooked nose and his dark eyes. He had a feeling that if he stared at them long enough, he would end up drowning. He lowered his eyes so he wouldn't have to stare at his reflection. Instead, he saw the way his hands gripped the table. His veins were vibrant against his pale skin. Breathe. Just Breathe

A single gold galleon was sitting in a secret compartment in his desk. Miss Granger gave it to him shortly before he killed Dumbledore as a means of communication. He would use it to send her a message when he had new information. From his understanding, she carried hers with her at all times. He was supposed to summon her as soon as he returned to Hogwarts. But he needed a moment to collect himself before grabbing it. Before seeing her.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

I would like to thank my beta's demonbarber14 and RaventheNightOwl.

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