Chapter 15 – The End, But Not Really

With a stray thought, he turned the shower off and dried them both.

"What is it, are you all right?" Snape was still screaming, curled on the shower floor, so he wasn't even sure he heard him. Not that it mattered much—he was very clearly not all right. Cameron was frantic; Snape was obviously in excruciating pain, and he had no idea why.

He saw red trickling toward the drain and followed it back to Snape's arm. He was scratching and tearing at the Dark Mark. What in the name of the Founders was going on?

Snape's screams tapered off just long enough for him to whimper, "Bind me," so Cameron wasted no time Petrifying him. He agreed that it was the only way to keep him from clawing all the skin off his arm. Plus, this way he wouldn't be able to scream his throat raw any more than he already had.

Cameron cleaned the blood from his arm and levitated him to the bed. After a few minutes, he relaxed the hex to give Snape control of his facial muscles so he could see if things were any better.

"Are you all right?"

"Hurts," Snape whispered.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to do to make it stop," he said, looking around the room like a solution might step forward and present itself. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"Close. Not this bad."

"When?"

"Ten years."

Ten years ago? Ten years ago, Harry's parents had been killed. Ten years ago, the Evil Git had fallen.

Of course. Why hadn't he considered this before? How could he be so stupid?

He watched the tension go out of Snape's body and breathed a sigh of relief. Releasing the full body bind entirely, he chanced a look at his left arm and his suspicions were as good as confirmed.

"It's gone," Snape whispered in awe. "I—I never…" His breath hitched and Cameron looked up at him to see tears streaming down his face. He crawled up the bed next to Snape and pulled his trembling body against him.

"You all right?"

"Perfect."

"And this isn't like before, when it faded?"

Snape shook his head. "I can't feel it at all. It's gone. It's gone," he repeated, and Cameron wondered which of them he was trying to convince.

"We should get you to the hospital wing." He preempted the inevitable protest, adding, "Besides, we need to find out what happened."

Snape sighed and wiped a hand across his face. "I suppose you're right. Let's get dressed, then."

They made their way to the infirmary slowly, Snape limping more heavily than usual and clutching Cameron's arm the whole way. Cameron didn't think he was even aware of it, so he tried not to draw attention to the fact and embarrass his normally reserved lover.

As they walked, he tried to piece together what must have happened.

He had never been sure when Nagini was made into a Horcrux—no one had, as far as he knew. If he and Snape were right in assuming His Evilness was well and truly dead, then it must have been after he fled Quirrell's dying body. That would mean all the extant Horcruxes had been destroyed, so when Harry had touched Quirrell's skin and the love from Lily's sacrifice killed him, his parasitic companion had died, too.

He felt like an absolute idiot for never considering this possibility before, but regardless of how much sense it made and how obvious it seemed at that point, it still felt too good to be true.

"When you talk to the Headmaster, make sure to find out if Potter saw any type of spirit or mist leaving Quirrell's body."

"Leaving Quirrell? What do you mean?" he asked, his voice still hoarse from before.

"The Dark Lord's been possessing him all year, and he died tonight trying to steal the stone. The first time this happened, the Horcruxes were still intact, so his spirit survived. This time, I think they were all destroyed beforehand."

"You think?"

"I'm not really sure when the last one was created. But with what happened to your Mark, it must have been later. I think he's really gone."

"We'll know soon enough."

As soon as they walked into the hospital wing, Cameron knew he was right. There was Harry, flanked by Hermione and Ron, perched on the edge of a bed and perfectly conscious, if a little shaken. There had been no evil spirit to swoop through his body and leave him sleeping it off for three days.

That was it. It was done.

XXX

"I still can't believe the prophecy was true."

"Does it really matter?"

Most of the fuss had died down in the weeks since 'the confrontation' (as the media referred to it), and Cameron was more than ready to forget all about it.

"I suppose not. I just never put much stock in divination. I was the one who told the Dark Lord about the prophecy—I couldn't believe it would matter. But it was the reason he targeted the Potters. It was my fault they died."

"I know you reported it, but that doesn't make what he did your fault. Think of it this way—if he'd never gone after them, he wouldn't have fallen ten years ago and Lily's sacrifice would never have happened so Potter could kill him for good."

"That doesn't make what I did right."

"No, but it doesn't make the Dark Lord's actions your responsibility either."

Snape nodded and they spent a few minutes nursing their tea in easy silence.

"So did everything turn out the way you were hoping?"

"Much better, actually," he answered. In fact, he couldn't believe how well everything had worked out. "Last time, he acquired a new body and gathered his Death Eaters again. He was active for several years and caused quite a lot of pain and suffering. This time, we're able to avoid all that. He won't be breaking any criminals out of Azakaban or murdering innocent children or taking over Hogwarts. And hopefully the Potter boy will be able to pass his school years without psychopaths trying to kill him at every turn."

"He summoned the Death Eaters again, you said?" Snape asked, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Did I…?"

Cameron nodded. "You went back to spying. It was very hard on you, and I can't express how thankful I am you don't have to do that this time." He tried not to think about Dumbledore's death and what that would have done to the man he loved.

"Yes. It is certainly a welcome turn."

"Don't dwell on it. It's over now."

XXX

All the talk about the prophecy got him thinking about the other one Trelawney had made, the one about Pettigrew. There was now no reason not to see justice done, if he could just figure out how to go about it without drawing attention to himself.

As an added bonus, if he could exonerate Sirius and get him out of Azkaban, he probably wouldn't need to worry about Snape holding his own against a werewolf with no Wolfsbane.

At the time, he had been livid with Snape for outing Remus, but looking back he could sort of understand it. What kind of responsible adult failed to take his potion in a school full of innocent children? No amount of long-lost friends escaped from prison could make that acceptable behavior. As things stood, he was the only one who could prevent it.

So, the next time they met, he asked Snape, "Do you know about Peter Pettigrew's animagus form?"

"Something small and furry, I think. Why are you asking about him, of all people?"

"Because he isn't dead."

"What? How do you know?"

Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Right," Snape said sheepishly.

"Quite so. If I tell you that he's masquerading as Ron Weasley's pet rat, could you contrive to recognize him and hold him long enough for the aurors to take him into custody?"

"I'm sure I could come up with something. Why is it so important?"

"Trust me, it'll save you and everyone else and a lot of pain and grief." Snape probably wouldn't be too happy about inadvertently getting Sirius Black cleared of all charges and released, but at least he wouldn't be forced to interact with him via the Order this time.

By October, Sirius had been escorted from Azkaban and was in possession of everything the Ministry had confiscated and then some. Harry went to the Dursleys' one more time to retrieve his belongings and moved into 12 Grimmauld Place.

XXX

"The man is a bumbling idiot!"

"Are we talking about Lockhart again?"

"I told you about what happened with his ill-conceived little dueling club, didn't I?"

Cameron remembered it well. "No, what happened?"

"He made a complete fool of himself. Not that he had to try very hard, mind."

"I'm sure. Did he do something in particular?"

"Other than try to use a made-up spell to get rid of Draco's snake, enabling it to very nearly bite some unwitting Hufflepuff? I had to clean up his mess, of course."

"So, I take it the Hufflepuff kid is all right?"

Snape huffed. "Of course. I reversed the spell as quickly as I could, after Lockhart's idiocy dropped it right in front of him."

So Harry really wasn't a Parselmouth. There was no way Snape wouldn't have mentioned it if the boy had suddenly started talking to the snake. He'd been fairly certain of it already, but it was good to have confirmation.

"The worst part is now that the Dark Lord is dead, the position is no longer cursed. Unless the Headmaster finds someone better and fires him, he could be here indefinitely!"

That was a rather disturbing thought. He couldn't believe he'd completely forgotten about the curse. He thought about Remus maybe getting the job next year, but he didn't really think he'd apply. From what he could discern from gossip and the Prophet, he hardly left Sirius' side. If he hadn't married Tonks last time, Cameron would be seriously wondering about those two.

"Why don't you apply?" he asked Snape, remembering the rumor that he'd always wanted the job. "You'd be a fair sight better than the last two, that's for certain."

"Of course I would. But it would take more incentive than that for me to give up Potions." Apparently, it had just been a rumor, after all. "Why don't you apply for the position?"

"What, me?"

"You are a Master of Defense with no steady employment, are you not?"

"Well, when you put it like that… You wouldn't mind working with me? I wouldn't…get under your skin?"

"Of course not," Snape answered, then looked away. "Would such proximity be a problem for you?" he asked quietly.

Cameron couldn't believe he was nervous about that. "No, I think that'd be the best part," he answered honestly. "I suppose I'd better write to Dumbledore soon, then."

Snape nodded. "But not now." He stood and held out a hand. "Come to bed."

"Yes, it's getting late." Not that he really intended on sleeping all that soon.

XXX

He collapsed onto the couch in an exhausted heap. "Why didn't you tell me how annoying the little buggers are?" By far, the weirdest part was having his younger self in class, but he wasn't about to say it out loud. It helped that Harry was living with Sirius and having completely different experiences than Cameron remembered.

"I'm certain I mentioned it on more than one occasion."

Well, that was true. "Apparently you didn't put quite enough emphasis on the fact."

"It's hardly my fault if you didn't believe me."

"Hmph. I still say it's your fault. You were the one who first mentioned me applying for the job, you know."

Snape chuckled. "If you insist. Why don't you come to bed and let me make it up to you?"

Maybe he wasn't that exhausted, after all.

"Come on. You can punish me for it by fucking me. Hard."

"I'm not convinced you'd see that as punishment," he said as they passed into the bedroom.

Snape shrugged and gave him a smile—that's how he always though of it when Snape smiled at him; a gift. "Perhaps not. Either way, it'll make you feel better."

Cameron pulled him into a heated kiss. "Don't worry, you don't need to convince me."