Thanks for the reviews, they made me write the following chapter really fast :)
Chapter Five: Denial
It took a fortnight to get the permission for another visit to Azkaban. This time it was early summer and decidedly warmer than before, but the sight of the grey fortress sent shivers down Alexandra's spine nevertheless. Again she was led into the visitor's room and asked to wait. Some minutes later the guard entered with the prisoner. Alexandra watched him being chained to the chair and noticed that he looked ill. He had lost weight, his left eye was black and swollen.
"What do you want now? Another article?" he spat at her for a greeting. His voice was hoarse and he ended his words with a dry cough.
Alexandra put her elbows on the table and leaned closer to him.
"No, Mr Snape, no article this time. I just wanted to provide you with a bit of extra time in a warm and dry room."
She smiled at him and he answered the smile wryly.
"Did you give this to the authorities as a reason for your visit?" he asked ironically.
"No, I told them I wanted to write your biography."
He let out a short laugh. "And they believed it?"
"They did. After all you are still quite famous."
They looked at each other for a while without speaking. Then Alexandra mustered enough courage to bring up the real topic.
"I've spoken to Albus Dumbledore. You're innocent."
He shook his head.
"I'm not innocent, Ms Moody," he said wearily.
Then – as if he had just realized what she had said - his good eye narrowed.
"How did you speak to Dumbledore?" he demanded in an angry whisper, leaning forward as far as the chains would allow him.
Alexandra felt her cheeks become hot.
"I – I did some investigation on your case, I wanted to find out more about you, so I wrote to people who knew you and I visited Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was kind enough to provide me with some information and to show me your things, those the ministry has left behind. I found a mirror…"
"And pinched it! I would have thought you to have some more respect for other people's possessions, Ms Moody."
He shook his head in mock accusation. Another coughing fit shook him.
"I think it wanted to be taken", Alexandra remarked quietly. "Albus Dumbledore wanted to contact a person who was interested in your fate and that happened to be me. I have no idea how the mirror works and why it was among your belongings…"
"We used it as a means of quick and secret contact. The Aurors must have overlooked it, otherwise they would have confiscated it as well."
He breathed hard and his features twisted into an angry scowl.
"The old fool simply can't stop meddling. Even from the fucking grave he thinks he must direct people's lives. Destroy that blasted mirror, Ms Moody, smash it to smithereens!"
His face was drawn as if in unbearable pain. Alexandra just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Then she decided to ignore his outbreak..
"Anyway, Dumbledore told me everything…"
"So what?"
He was slumped back into the chair, watching her wearily.
"I intend to get you out of here", she said.
He snorted. "How? On the evidence of a spirit in a mirror? Don't be daft, Ms Moody."
"I think Dumbledore knows a way", Alexandra answered thoughtfully, "but he said you had to be willing."
"Exactly, and I'm not."
"Why? You're innocent. And don't tell me you like it here."
He sighed in exasperation.
"I'm not innocent, Ms Moody, oh no! I did a lot of things the description of which would curdle your blood. I deserve punishment."
"You didn't murder Dumbledore and as for the rest of your crimes – are five years in prison not enough?"
"Not enough to erase the guilt inside me."
He glared at her, then added harshly, "Don't waste your energy and your time on a worthless case, Ms Moody. Leave me alone."
Alexandra stared at him open-mouthed. It was unbelievable how this man was clinging to his misery.
"Have you run out of arguments?" he asked silkily. "Then you'd better go."
She glared at him with clenched teeth. There was a faint expression of triumph and amusement on his face, which was oddly in contrast with his black eye and which made her tremble with helpless fury. Stubborn man! Stupid, arrogant bastard!
She forced herself to breath deeply, to stay calm.
"You won't get rid of me so easily, Mr Snape, be assured of that. I'm leaving, but I'll return."
She signalled to the guard behind the glass partition. Snape bowed his head gracefully and smirked. Then the door opened, the guards made the chains drop and he was led away.
"So what did he say?" The old face in the mirror was full of concern.
"He said 'no'." Alexandra cried out, glad to be able to give full vent to her anger and frustration. "This miserable, stupid, obstinate, stubborn, arrogant bastard absolutely refuses to co-operate. He says he's guilty and deserves punishment."
Dumbledore smiled affectionately.
"Exactly as I suspected."
Alexandra snorted. This was ridiculous!
"But how can we help him if he doesn't want to be helped?"
"It is a question of perseverance," the old wizard said softly. "You must visit him again and again, and perhaps – one day – he will acquiesce."
"Perhaps one day!" Alexandra shook her head in frustration.
"He's not well, I don't think we have much time. Azkaban is not exactly a holiday resort, you know. Anyway, what will we do if he gives his consent?"
Dumbledore's eyes had lost their twinkle. He sighed.
"As soon as he agrees, a letter will appear on the desk of the Minister of Magic, explaining the whole situation. Simultaneously copies of this letter will go to the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless."
"Why can't these letters appear earlier?"
"I wanted to make sure that Severus was not in any way involved in a Death Eater meeting or one of their activities at the time the letter would be made public, I wanted him to be safe, to keep his cover."
Alexandra sighed, "And if he doesn't agree?"
"Then the letter will appear after his death," Dumbledore said sadly. "His name will be cleared posthumously."
Wonderful! Alexandra thought, this would do him a lot of good. She let out a sharp breath of annoyance.
"And there isn't anything you can do about it? Change the arrangement somehow? I mean, if you are able to talk to me although you are dead, it must be possible to…"
"No, Ms Moody, I'm afraid I can't. Even my powers are limited. I still have the use of magic that has been set up before my demise, but unfortunately I'm not able to create new magic or do alterations, I'm sorry."
The image shrugged.
"So it all depends on me, the Squib and on my powers of persuasion. Great! Fine! Absolutely ingenious, Mr Dumbledore!"
The old wizard's face was sad and drawn.
"Tell me if I'm asking too much of you."
"Asking too much! You are the famous Albus Dumbledore, allegedly the mightiest wizard of our century, you are responsible for sending an innocent man to Azkaban and now you haven't got any idea how to get him out again. All you can think of is contacting me, who couldn't get any magic out of a wand if her life depended on it. What kind of solution do you expect from me? I'm a Squib, for God's sake!"
"You are the woman who cares for Severus," the mirror corrected her patiently.
She stopped dead and frowned at the old man.
"What do you mean by that? 'The woman who cares'? I'm not in love with him!" she cried out angrily.
The image of Dumbledore smiled. "I didn't say so, did I?"
She looked at the old face sceptically.
"I'm not in love with him," she repeated, "but I care for him as a fellow human being. He has been treated unfairly and that's why I want to help him, do you understand that?"
She breathed hard.
"But I still don't know how."
The face was all benevolence when the old wizard replied, "Yes, of course, Ms Moody, I understand you perfectly well. And I'm sure you'll find a way."
It was late afternoon, the sun was still hot in the inner yard of Azkaban. Severus Snape was on his knees, selecting stones for paving the yard, putting one next to the other in neat half circles, knocking them in place with a hammer. He cast glances at the guards every now and then, because if a prisoner was too slow with his work, they would be there with their cudgels and whips. His knees and his back hurt, he had a headache and felt dizzy. They had to work from morning till evening without eating or drinking, without a protection against the blazing sun.
He closed his eyes and attempted a deep breath, which resulted in another cough. The dizziness remained. He was reaching for the next stone, when blackness overcame him and he fell. He woke to the biting of the whips on his flesh. Desperately he struggled to get up, but failed miserably and collapsed again.
"Stop it!" A rough voice commanded. "Look at him, he's ill. Probably sunstroke."
Cold water was poured over his head, a cup was held to his lips and he drank greedily. Then he was unlocked from the chain that bound six prisoners together, strong hands grabbed him and dragged him into the shadow of the wall.
"His hand is bleeding, he cut himself", someone said and a dirty rag was wrapped around his hand and he was left alone. The stones against his back were rough and warm. His mouth was still parched, his sight was blurred and the harsh voices of the guards sounded far away. He closed his eyes. The face of Alexandra Moody appeared, looking at him with concern and pity. He didn't want pity, he told the face to go away, but it remained.
"You're innocent", the face said over and over again. "You're innocent!"
She wanted to work for his release. What a silly idea! Who would listen to her? There was no evidence of the agreement between Dumbledore and himself, otherwise it would have been found long ago. And he didn't want to be released. What for? What should he do? Nobody would want to have anything to do with him, the Death Eater, who had done terrible things. He didn't want to take up the struggle that was called life once again. Enough was enough. And for him it would be over soon…
"No", he whispered, "no, I'm not innocent. I deserve punishment. I'm not innocent!"
"You've got a point there, Snape. "Someone laughed and kicked him. "Get up!"
He opened his eyes. A guard was standing next to him.
"Your shift is over, get up!" the man repeated, raising his whip.
Quickly Snape scrambled to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. Then he slowly joined the queue of tired men shuffling towards the door leading into the building.
Thanks to J.K.Rowling for inventing the wonderful characters.