Finally, an update. Figures it would come right after "Deathly Hallows" came out. You don't have to tell me how ridiculously long it's been, and I totally and sincerely apologize. Real life got about as real as it could get and zapped me of any creativity whatsoever. It's taken me since February to write this chapter, which I ended up rewriting because I wrote it the first time so I could actually give you an update. But, on the bright side, this is when things finally come together, and in the next few chapters I am going to be writing things that I've been planning on writing in this story for a long time.

On another note: I HAVE NOT READ DEATHLY HALLOWS!!!! Please, PLEASE, do not spoil it for me with reviews like, "Wow, that didn't happen in the book" or "Yeah, Wormtail blah blah blah" or whatever. Just don't even MENTION "Deathly Hallows". I actually want to finish this story without being influenced by the real thing, so I am trying not to read it. Please respect that, and don't be mean or rude by spoiling the last book for me, or I REALLY won't be updating. On with the show...

Chapter Eight

Of Princes and Dark Lords

Two Months Ago

Not an hour after he had sent Draco and Wormtail into the hidden compartment in the kitchen, the mark on Severus Snape's arm burned red hot. Snape sighed. He'd been expecting this. The Dark Lord had made a show in front of the others; now he wanted to speak to him alone. And probably do a lot more than speak, Snape thought, cynically, because one did not go before the Dark Lord without expecting a Crucio or two. Or three. He had grown accustomed to it. The thirteen years that the Dark Lord had been absent hadn't made him what the Muggles called "rusty". He'd served him for almost four years before Lily Potter had foolishly thrown herself in front of her son, thus beginning the Boy Who Lived phenomenons. He knew enough, and had endured enough, to know what was in store for him when Dumbledore had told him to go back to the Dark Lord at the end of Potter's fourth year.

Potter, Snape thought, venomously, as he removed his Death Eater mask from it's hiding place. Stupid, bloody, fucking Potter. How he loathed him. He would never forget the first time Lily and James' son strode through the Entrance Hall doors that first year. Snape could have sworn he was seeing James Potter's ghost. Only his eyes were different... they were green. Emerald green. Green like hers.

Pushing those thoughts aside - because they only made him want to hex someone - he ran through his Occlumency training, centering himself, returning himself to his usual calm demeanor.

It was time.

He reinitiated the barrier spells around his home as well as the kitchen (because with Wormtail around he could never afford to take any chances), placed the mask over his face, and stalked out into the cold, dark night.

Once he was a safe distance away, he took one last calming breath and touched the mark on his arm. Imeadiately, he was whisked away to hell only knew where. If there was one thing that Snape never got used to over the years, it was blind Apparition. He reappeared in a graveyard.

No. Not a graveyard. The graveyard. The one where the Dark Lord had made his reappearance two years ago.

A four-letter word imeadiately popped into his mind, but he had the sense not to utter it allowed, which happened to be a Very Good Thing, as not three feet away stood Voldemort himself.

Snape knelt at once, his knees hitting the hard cold ground, and bent his head low, eyes looking upward, in the formal greeting. "I am here, as you command, My Lord."

Voldemort said nothing and allowed him to stay knelt for some time. A wave of panic almost swept through Snape, but he remained calm, his Occulemency training in place. And he waited.

And waited.

After what felt like an eternity, Voldemort spoke.

"Do you think me a fool, Severus?"

Snape chose his next words very, very carefully. "Only if I had a death wish, My Lord."

"Is that so? Then perhaps you can tell me why you went against my wishes. Because I know that you are no fool, Severus." Voldemort took a few steps closer to the still kneeling Snape. "You know the real reason I set that task for the Malfoy boy."

Snape, of course, knew that all too well. He knew that Draco had been marked for death almost the instant that Narcissa had walked through his door.

"It was to have been Lucius' punishment. Draco was supposed to die," Voldemort hissed.

"And he did," Snape replied.

"He was not supposed to die by your hand."

Snape's mind began to work very quickly. "I had thought you would be pleased, My Lord, and it seemed as though you were earlier."

Voldemort remained silent for a time.

"Rise, Severus," he said finally, and began to walk past him. Snape did so, and fell into step behind the Dark Lord. It seemed at first that they were heading no place in particular, until the silhoutte of a large mansion came into view.

"Draco Malfoy is hardly the only reason I summoned you," Voldemort stated. "Do you wish to know why you are here?"

Snape didn't even bother lying. "Yes, My Lord."

"Although I am... ecstatic... about the demise of that Muggle-loving fool, I am most concerned with the way you handled the boy."

Snape cocked his head to one side. "Potter?"

Voldemort said nothing.

"You merely heard a tale told by half-witted idiots, My Lord."

"It is not wise to make such comments about your brothers in arms, Severus. Although, they do not possess the same cunning as yourself."

"I am blessed with the attributes of your House, My Lord."

"All flattery aside," Voldemort hissed, suddenly, turning to face Snape, "and even though your actions were reported to me by... half-witted idiots... The boy is still alive."

Snape faltered. "My Lord... it was your wish that he be allowed to live, for you to-"

"And unwounded," Voldemort added.

Snape took a breath. "Again, My Lord, it was your wish that he not be touched. Alecto and Amycus also Disapparated before I was through with the boy."

Voldemort said nothing. "Yes. It was my wish that he remained alive. I wonder, however, about your wishes."

Snape raised an eyebrow, even though he knew he couldn't be seen under his mask. "My wishes, My Lord?"

"As I said, you are quite cunning. And as you said, you are blessed with the attributes of my ancestor's house."

"And this... concerns you?"

Snape realized a second too late that that may have been the wrong choice of words. Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Concerned? By you? You flatter yourself to think that your powers are of any worth compared to mine?"

Snape imeadiately dropped to his knees once more. "Forgive me, My Lord. I misspoke."

Unfortunately, his apology came too late, and he felt the Cruciatus tear through his body, attacking his muscles, making him fall to the ground. He bit his lip against the pain, making it bleed. He would not cry out. He would not cry out. He would not cry out...

After what felt like hours, although it was probably only about thirty seconds, the pain ceased, and Snape was left panting at Voldemort's feet.

"Apology accepted. Now get up," the Dark Lord ordered.

Snape steeled himself, and then shakily got to his feet.

"Open your mind to me, Severus. I want to see it. I want to see how you killed him. I want to see the boy," Voldemort hissed.

Snape knew this would be coming and had prepared for it. "As you wish, My Lord." He lowered his defenses ever so slightly, but not enough so that the Dark Lord would perceive it. Snape allowed him to see Dumbledore, old and frail looking, leaning against the wall of the astronomy tower. He let him see Dumbledore plead with Snape, right before he used the Avada Kedavra, killing him and sending him over the edge of the Tower. He let the Dark Lord witness his verbal spar with Potter, and the so-called battle afterward, which left Potter wandless and bloodied. He finished with the attack from the Hippogriff, and then the Dark Lord ended the connection.

"So you did wound him," was all Voldemort said.

Snape nodded. "He called me a coward."

"That must have upset you," Voldemort replied in a bored sort of way.

"You know my feelings toward the boy."

"Ooooh yes," Voldemort nodded. "You hate him almost as much as I do. Sins of the father..."

Snape felt his temper start to rise.

"Sometimes it amuses me, Severus, how much anger and hatred you still carry for a man long dead. Someone I took great pleasure in killing, I'll have you know."

"Have I offered you my thanks, recently, for that?" Snape asked.

Voldemort allowed a small, contemptuous laugh. "His death served both our purposes, my friend." He began walking again, and Snape assumed that he was to follow. They walked in silence for the half hour or so that it took to reach the mansion, which Snape knew from Dumbledore was in fact the Riddle House.

"You recognize it," Voldemort said, suddenly. "I assume Dumbledore told you where it was."

Snape didn't even have to answer.

"It serves its purpose," Voldemort admitted. "It was most helpful in concealing the whereabouts of Wormtail and myself when he brought me back from Albania." He turned back toward Snape, and added, "You have proven your worth." He held out his hand, and in a blaze of fire, a list appeared there. Handing it to Snape, he instructed, "Return to your home, and begin preparing these."

Snape bowed. "It will be done, My Lord."

"I will give you far more... entertaining... tasks soon, Severus."

Snape bowed again. "Thank you, My Lord."

Voldemort waved his hand, signaling to Snape that he should go. With one final bow, Snape Disapparated back to the river in front of the village of Mill houses. It was all he could do not to vomit.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. His suspicions had started last summer when Narcissa Malfoy had unexpectedly shown up on his front door, and had increased when he realized that Bellatrix had been correct in assuming that Snape knew nothing of this plan to use Draco to kill Albus Dumbledore. He had been able to use Legilimency and quick thinking, however, to turn the tide in his favor. But then there had been the Unbreakable Vow. Snape was concerned, at first, that Narcissa had been sent by the Dark Lord all along to force Snape into making a mistake, and into making the Vow and therefore going against the Dark Lord's plan. But, no - more probing into Narcissa's mind showed that she had come there of her own volition. She was out of her mind with grief over Lucius being in Azkaban and concern for her teenage son.

After killing Dumbledore, Snape had thought that whatever suspicions the Dark Lord may have had would have been dismissed. That didn't seem to be the case, however. And giving him menial tasks such as concocting potions as he had done in his very early Death Eater days did nothing to ease his concerns.

Has it all been for nothing? he thought as he walked toward his front door. He threw it open and slammed it shut again. He couldn't start thinking like that. He had to proceed with the plan. Dumbledore was dead. Draco was just as good as dead. And Potter... Potter's life was just beginning.

------------------------

The next month passed without much incident. To someone other than Snape, that would be a good thing.

The night after Dumbledore's death, Snape had sent Wormtail and Draco off to Leavesden with explicit instructions to not Apparate, use the Knight Bus, or use any kind of magic. They were to travel at night, and then owl him - in code - immediately when they arrived at their destination. Wormtail had been instructed to remain there as well, and Snape had told the Dark Lord and any Death Eater who asked that he was dead, and Snape had very much enjoyed doing it. A week later, he had received the owl from Draco's new guardian informing him that they had arrived. Snape's response was short and to the point: Good. No other contact. And so it had remained. The plan was that he would write once a month to make sure all was still well, and Draco was still safe. A few days after the owl was received, however, his wrist where the Vow had bonded him and Narcissa burned slightly, only for a second. And then it stopped. Snape had scowled at it, and then waited to see if it would continue. After a few minutes, he brushed it off as nothing - Draco probably hurt himself by accident somehow - and went back to work. It never happened again.

The Dark Lord had Snape's potions ingredients sent to him, since it was perfectly obvious that Snape couldn't go off to Diagon or Knockturn Alley to get them for himself. Not with every Auror in the country out looking for him. And so, he had remained cooped up in his father's house, brewing all sorts of vile potions for the Dark Lord, and trying to sort out just exactly what the hell he was supposed to do now. The most unpleasant task, which unfortunately was also the first, was to get through to Potter. The boy had never been any good at Occulmency, which had served the Dark Lord in the past, and served Snape now. He had never attempted to penetrate someone's mind through dreams. However, he was fairly confident that he could accomplish it. The first two times, he failed. He managed to see what Potter was dreaming, but could never manipulate and shape those dreams into what he desired. The third time, however, he struck gold. He managed to snag hold of a memory, and using his skills, manipulated that memory, twisted it, into a dream that hopefully Potter would understand. The memory in question was of Potter and Dumbledore in a cave. They were on a little stone island in the middle of a large lake. Potter had been feeding Dumbledore some kind of potion, clearly against his better judgment. Snape recognized the scene almost imeadiately, and unfortunately knew very well the contents of that potion. It wasn't hard for him to place Potter as the observer, and insert himself in Potter's place. Something must have triggered Potter's unconscious mind, however, for he woke up almost imeadiately after. Snape knew that hadn't been enough. He would have to try again later. Subtlety was never one of his strong suits, but he knew better than anyone how stubborn Potter could be. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure this method was even going to work. Knowing Potter, he would probably just think he ate something that didn't agree with him, and it was giving him odd dreams.

July 30th rolled around, and warning bells had started going off in Snape's head. He had completed two potions for the Dark Lord already. Two more were in their final stages. Yet, the Dark Lord had not checked on his progress. Furthermore, he hadn't summoned him, or even informed him of his plans for Potter's upcoming birthday - and he knew that the Dark Lord was planning something. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to kill Potter, especially when he could now do so on the (no longer) sacred ground of the Dursleys'.

To his surprise, the Dark Lord did indeed summon him around eleven o'clock that day. Upon arriving, Snape was told that he was not to be present when he and a few of the other Death Eaters ambushed Potter at midnight.

"I have no doubt that Potter will not be alone," the Dark Lord explained. "The Auror's will be there for his protection. Even they aren't that stupid to let him out alone on the eve of him turning seventeen. No... there will be another time, Severus. I'm sure he'll try to visit his parents. I will need you then."

Severus didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. Not only was he being forced to twiddle his thumbs for Merlin only knew how long, but now he was going to have to go to Godric's Hollow, which was a place that he had intended to never visit again.

This was definitely not working out according to plan.

----------------------

It was a week after Potter's birthday when Snape's mark burned once more. He had been informed by one of the Carrows that Potter had apparently had no Auror escort on Privet Drive, and had only been accompanied by Granger and Weasley. It was all Snape could do to keep the shock - and anger - out of his eyes and voice. Stupid, arrogant boy, he thought, seething.

"He seemed to be very interested in finding you, Severus," Amycus had told him, a greedy look on his face.

"I can only imagine," was Snape's only reply

Amycus then continued his tale, saying that eventually the Order showed up, and Potter, Granger, and Weasley were able to escape. An Order member - Richard Hapkirk, Mafalda Hapkirk's nephew - had been the only casualty. Snape had only met him once, last year. He had been a new recruit of Kingsly Shacklebolt, fresh out of Auror training.

Now, the Dark Lord was calling him again, which meant that Potter was on the move once more - this time to Godric's Hollow, his old home and the burial place of his parents. It was a chilly Sunday afternoon when he Apparated with some twelve other Death Eaters into the Dark Lord's presence. Again, Snape found himself in a graveyard. It was pouring rain; Severus' and the others' robes were already soaked through.

"I sense him," was all that the Dark Lord said. "He's already been to the house. Alecto tells me that it collapsed shortly after he came out of it. His friends are with him again." His red eyes had then turned to Snape. "Is he always this careless?"

Snape - although masked - still rolled his eyes. "Unbelievably, My Lord."

The Dark Lord motioned for them to stand, and then his eyes went to the old gravedigger that was milling about removing the dead flowers from the tombstones. He was blissfully unaware of their presence.

"I think we ought to show him what happens to little boys who don't learn from their mistakes," the Dark Lord hissed.

Snape's stomach clenched.

-----------------------

The gravedigger's death was quick and painless, the only upside to the Avada Kedavra. The Dark Lord then levitated him and strung him along behind like some kind of demented marionette doll as they made their way to Potter, Granger, and Weasley.

"You will speak to him first, Severus," he hissed in Snape's ear. "I want to make him unbalanced. If what you told me is true, his anger and desire for revenge will make him clumsy."

"As you wish, My Lord."

Snape just hoped to whoever was listening that the boy would use some common sense and not try to attack him. He seriously doubted that Potter had listened to a thing Snape had told him during their so-called battle after Dumbledore's death.

They were fast approaching the three teenagers. Potter had just gotten up off the muddy ground - he had been kneeling in front of a statue of an angel - and Weasley and Granger were coming over to him. The Dark Lord nodded to him, and Snape cast the Muffliato charm to mask their approach. They watched as Granger turned the umbrella she had been holding into a twig and toss it on the ground. They were almost on top of them now.

"Come on," Granger was saying, "I think it's just the calm before another storm hits. We should get going. Remus-"

Snape felt the Dark Lord's gaze on him, and knew it was time. Let the game begin, he thought, wryly.

"Well, well, well," he said very calmly, very slowly. "Caught unawares yet again, Potter? Will you never learn?"

Potter visibly stiffened. All three of them still had their backs to Snape and the others. He could see Granger grip Potter's hand, and whisper something to him. Snape couldn't make out what it was. They still hadn't turned around.

"Although, I can't say I'm surprised. You always were rather slow, weren't you, Potter?" Snape continued, eyes narrowing. He knew it would only take a little goading to get Potter riled.

As if on cue, Potter, Granger, and Weasley finally turned to face the threat that had befallen them.

Potter's eyes were filled with hate, although since Snape and the others were still masked, he wasn't quite sure where to direct his glare. "I was wondering when you were going to show yourself," he yelled. "I'm surprised you..."

Potter's smug attitude vanished as he realized just what, exactly, he had gotten himself and his friends into.

"Oh, fuck," Weasley blurted, his freckled face going pale.

Snape had to resist the urge to snort. He could see Potter eyeing the dead gravedigger. Good, he thought, venomously. Take a look, Potter. Take a good look. You'll probably be seeing more.

Not being able to resist, Snape turned to Potter's redheaded companion, and said in the way of greeting: "Mr. Weasley, as eloquent as always. Yes, it seems your heroic best friend has lead you to certain doom once again. Wouldn't you say so, My Lord?"

Beside him, he could hear the Dark Lord laugh softly. "You were quite right, Severus. The boy does have the tendency to be a bit... stupid." With a flick of his wand, the Dark Lord sent the body of the gravedigger flying forward. It landed directly in front of Potter's feet. The Death Eaters around him laughed as Potter stared at the dead body. Snape could see both anger and guilt in Potter's eyes. Still wearing your heart on your sleeve, I see... Snape thought.

"Let go of me, Hermione," he growled, trying to tug himself away from Granger's grip.

Granger shook her head violently, her mass of brown hair whipping around her face. "No. Hang on to me. We need to get away."

"Like hell," Potter snapped at her.

At least Granger has some sense. Part of Snape had hoped she would accompany Potter. She seemed to be his only source of reason. Weasley, for his part, was just standing there staring like a slack-jawed idiot.

As if echoing Snape's thoughts, the Dark Lord said, "I think you've made him angry, Severus. You've been decidedly foolish lately, boy. This is the second time we've faced each other because your Gryffindor idiocy has allowed you to aimlessly wander about. I keep telling you, Harry, that you ought to listen to your Mudblood."

The insult bounced off Granger as if she had her own personal shielding charm.

"You'll find, My Lord, that Potter rarely listens to anyone," Snape sneered.

"Come to visit your parents' graves, I see. Seeking answers amongst the dead? What an ingenious twist of fate that you should die on top of their burial markers." The Dark Lord smiled at the thought.

Upon hearing those words, Snape risked a glance at the statue behind Potter. He could barely make out the engraved names, but could see part of "daughter, wife, sister and friend" that had to be for Lily Potter. He quickly avoided his gaze.

Weasley sprang into action at that point, snarling: "Who said anything about Harry dying?" He and Granger moved in closer to Potter, entrenching him.

Trying to protect him.

Snape knew right away that it was a foolish endeavor.

The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters laughed. "How amusing. Look... look how they move to protect him. Are they your servants now, Harry?"

Snape rolled his eyes. I'm sure he would love that, he thought, and without any sarcasm whatsoever.

"He's baiting you," Granger said to Potter. "Don't listen."

Listen to Granger, Potter.

"I'm not going to lose the two of you. This is my fight," Potter shot back.

Oh, for God's sake!

"No! We're in this together." Granger pulled her wand and pointed it into the crowd. "All of you, stand back!"

Snape was mildly impressed. As for the Dark Lord and the rest of them, they just laughed harder. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do, you filthy Muggle spawn?" the Dark Lord spat at her. "Even you are smart enough to know you cannot possibly defeat me."

Snape could see Weasley shaking his head at Granger, as if advising her to back off.

The Dark Lord began to look at Potter very carefully, as if studying him. "You have to know you cannot hope to win, Harry. Especially against Severus. He's my most trusted servant now, you know. And, of course, you know it was he who alerted me to the prophecy."

Snape's grip on his wand tightened, and Potter's furious glare intensified. So, Snape thought. It's true then. He does know. This was going to make things much harder.

"Should I dispose of him for you, My Lord?" he asked, trying to sound bored with the whole ordeal. Potter, it seemed, had already had enough.

"Enough of this, you fucking coward!" he bellowed. "Where are you? You can't even show your face to me, can you? Pathetic."

Everything suddenly got very, very quiet. It felt like a bucket of ice had been dropped into Snape's stomach. Coward, his mind echoed. Coward coward coward coward...

DON'T call me COWARD!

"You were quite right, Severus," the Dark Lord said, bringing Snape back to the present. "He cares nothing about me. Show yourself."

Snape could feel his Death Eater's mask peeling away, as though melting. He bore his eyes into Potter's. He entertained the notion that if he stared hard enough, he could make the boy burst into flames.

"I thought we discussed you using that word, Potter," he whispered, dangerously.

Potter only grew louder. "I thought you would have realized that I don't care!" He pushed his way past Granger and Weasley. "Are you going to dock points? Give me detention? Five hundred billion points from Gryffindor or something?"

Snape couldn't believe it. Here Potter was, face to face with not only the Dark Lord, but a dozen Death Eaters, and he was still acting like cocky little shit.

"Harry Potter, get back here!" Granger demanded. "How dare you be so stupid-"

"Be quiet, Hermione," Potter yelled, waving her off.

"No, I will not! You are letting your feelings blind you," the girl continued, trying to reason with her friend.

"Listen to Miss Granger, Potter," Snape said. "You do not want to fight me."

Potter's eyes burned with a fury that almost matched Snape's own. "Yes, I do."

Snape had absolutely no doubt that he was dead serious. Unfortunately, if he continued to carry on like this, Snape also had absolutely no doubt that Potter would also be just plain dead. Which was something Snape could not allow... Also unfortunately, he mused, making sure to avoid the Dark Lord's eye.

Potter had his wand out, and reflexively, Snape pulled his out of his robes as well. Beside him, the Dark Lord had started clapping.

"How entertaining! Please continue."

The rest of the Death Eaters started jeering, forming a circle around Potter and Snape. This was going too far. Something needed to be done.

Now.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Snape taunted. "You've learned nothing since our last encounter. I will block you with astounding ease."

"I'm not afraid of you," Potter growled at him.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "Yes. You are."

As he knew it would, this just seemed to infuriate Potter even more. Snape readied his Legilimency skills and sought out the eyes of his target. Potter, thinking it was him, averted his gaze. But the person that Snape was aiming for did not. Granger stared boldly into Snape's face, and he forced an image into her mind.

"...Obduco!" a younger Snape yelled. James Potter flew backward and hit the cupboard behind him, sending tea cups crashing to the floor...

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Potter make a move with his wand, and quickly blocked the Slicing Hex that he had thrown.

"Don't look at him, Hermione!" he heard Potter yell. This made Granger gasp audibly, and raise her own wand.

Dammit to hell! Snape thought angrily. Shut up and get out of the way, you stupid fool! He nonverbally sent a spell at Potter that took the wind right out of him and sent him crashing into the stone angel behind him. Snape allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction as Weasley yelled out Potter's name and went to help him up.

The Death Eaters laughed and applauded. "Something more creative this time, don't you think, Severus?" the Dark Lord encouraged him.

Snape nodded, knowing that he couldn't stall for much longer. Potter was coughing and sputtering, trying to regain his footing. Snape raised his wand as if preparing to hex the hell out of Potter, but again sought out Granger's eyes.

A seventeen-year-old Snape stood in front of James Potter and Sirius Black in the empty Transfiguration classroom.

"I told you," Snape snarled, "bugger OFF!"

He took out his wand, swung his arm in an arc, brought it back down, and yelled, "Obex Obduco!"

James flew backward the entire length of the classroom and crashed into the cupboard behind...

"Leave her alone, you son of a-" Snape heard Potter yell, but he never got to finish as Granger jumped in front of him, and in perfect imitation of Snape's memory, brought her wand arm around in an arc. As it returned level to the ground, she shouted, "Obex Obduco!"

Snape felt like something very large and very heavy was flying toward him, and then the next thing he knew, he, the Dark Lord, and all the Death Eaters were lying face up about ten feet away from their last position. Snape thought he heard a few of them actually crashing into some of the other statues. By the time they had gotten to their feet, Potter, Weasley, and Granger were gone.

Snape lay there immobile for a few more seconds. He was not a fan of Granger by any means. She was annoying and a know-it-all, which was something that he reminded her of any chance he got. He had learned a long time ago that being smart and having your nose in a book only got you more trouble than praise. But, she was far from stupid, and had more common sense than Weasley and Potter put together. Potter listened to her, except when he was being totally and completely irrational. Which, of course, was any time that he was around Snape. A very, very small part of Snape understood that; the boy had seen him kill Dumbledore. If this wasn't the first time Potter refused to see beyond his own prejudices, Snape may have been a little more lenient. As it was, six years of resentment and hostility - on both their parts - would make any kind of interaction with Potter almost impossible at this point.

But Hermione Granger might very well be the key.

The Dark Lord had gotten to his feet, as well as the rest of the Death Eaters. Whether out of temper or boredom - Snape was beginning to not be able to tell - the Dark Lord sent a few of them crashing backward into the statues again.

Walking over to Snape, he ordered, "Up, Severus," before continuing on toward the Potters' graves.

Snape made himself get to his feet, and then followed.

The Dark Lord had his back to him, and was standing in front of the angel statue that looked down upon the ground under which James and Lily Potter were burried.

"Interesting that she used that spell," he said. "I wonder where she learned it."

Coming up beside him, Snape answered, "I cannot hope to guess, My Lord. However, she is very intelligent for a Mudblood." As an afterthought, he added, "And I have already told you that Potter found my book."

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord said. "Your book."

Snape followed his gaze. He was regarding the burial markers in what Snape considered to be a much too interested fashion.

"Return to your home, my friend, and continue working on the potions," the Dark Lord said, suddenly. "I have... work... to do here."

Something about the way he said that made Snape not want to know. He bowed, and said, "As you wish, My Lord."

He took a few steps back from the Potters' graves, and - without a second glance at them - Disapparated back to Spinner's End.

He thought about Granger the entire walk back to his house. If the original plan was unsuccessful, and he had to initiate what the Muggles called "Plan B", he grew more and more confident with each step that Granger may be the only way to make it happen. He had already initiated it by showing her the Obex Obduco, which she mastered within a matter of seconds, although Snape figured that had something to do with the Legilimency. He just hoped that Granger wouldn't be foolish enough to try and tell Potter it had been Snape who had shown it to her to begin with. He wasn't half convinced that she would even be able to understand that he was the one who had sent it to her.

He arrived back at the house, put up his usual wards, and then went down to the basement from the door in the kitchen that lead to his laboratory. He hadn't received his owl from Leavesden, and was beginning to get anxious. Potter had almost gotten himself and his friends killed yet again. And he was still down here making horrid concoctions for the Dark Lord to use on God only knew who. Probably some five-year-old Muggleborn.

The thought sickened him.

Suddenly very angry, he upended the cauldron he was working on and threw it across the room. This was ludicrous. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He should be doing something, dammit. And the fact that he was suddenly becoming sentimental toward hypothetical five-year-old Muggleborns made his skin crawl. He wanted to blame Dumbledore, but found that he couldn't. Not anymore.

He returned the cauldron back to its position on the fire and prepared to Evanesco the spilt potion, which was beginning to eat threw the concrete. Snape didn't have to think about what it would do to a person's insides. He had seen that first hand. And he was making more of it so he could see it again.

And for what? For Potter?

He stared down at the oozing liquid in disgust. It was yellow. It reminded him of lemon drops.

He spent the rest of the night with his head in the toilet.

---------------------

A week later, Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, and Alastor Moody would be standing in the middle of the foyer of Grimmauld Place staring in disbelief at that morning's Daily Prophet. That very same night, Severus Snape would realize everything he had done wrong just a little too late. This realization came in the form of Wormtail.

Snape was just finishing up what he supposed could be called dinner, when he heard a pecking sound coming from the side window. An owl was sitting there, with what appeared to be a newspaper in its mouth. Snape found this very odd; he had cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet before that night on the Astronomy Tower so that the Ministry wouldn't be able to track the owls. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was the Malfoy's owl.

He threw the window open, allowing the owl in and ripped open the newspaper. He read the headline, and nearly dropped it.

"Oh... my... God," he whispered, shocked. "What...? No. No, this... this is not possible."

Azkaban was now in the hands of the Dark Lord.

And Severus knew he was dead.

His mind was a whirl of questions. They hadn't informed him. His mark hadn't even burned. No one had told him anything. They...

They'd been keeping him busy with potions. He'd been played. He'd been horribly and mercilessly played until this moment. And he hadn't even realized it.

There was a knock on the door, and he jumped, the Prophet actually falling to the floor this time. His wards hadn't even gone off. He reached for the handle and realized that his hand was shaking. He was reminded of Draco the night of Dumbledore's death. He threw the door open, wand at the ready, and came face to face with Peter Pettigrew.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"Wormtail? What the hell-?" Snape began, but Wormtail quickly shuffled into the house and locked the door.

"Have you seen it, Severus?" he demanded.

Snape glanced at the fallen Prophet. "Yes," he said, darkly, going over to it. Picking it back up again, he read the headline once more: Dark Lord Takes Control of Azkaban, Wizarding World in Turmoil.

"Why are you here, Wormtail? Why aren't you with Draco?" Snape asked, scanning the article.

He was completely done for. He would have to leave imeadiately. He didn't think he could risk Apparating, but if the Dark Lord suspected him - and it was becoming painfully and frighteningly obvious that he did - he would have to use whatever means necessary to escape. He hated himself. How could he had let this happen? He had promised...

And there was still the matter of the Malfoy's owl. Why had Herpo brought him the Prophet? Could Narcissa have been trying to warn him?

It took him a moment to realize that Wormtail hadn't answered his questions. He was standing very still and being unusually quiet. "Draco, Wormtail! Why aren't you with him?"

"He's safe. I promise. I wouldn't have left him otherwise."

Snape snorted. "Safe? You call this safe?" He shook the Prophet at him and bore his gaze into Wormtail's.

He was blocked.

And the reason that Herpo brought him the Prophet became all too clear.

"You're not Wormtail," Snape said, slowly.

It had already started. The Dark Lord had Azkaban, he knew of Snape's treachery, Draco may very well be in danger or already captured. Everything, in the matter of five minutes, went straight to hell in a handbasket.

The fake Wormtail smiled slyly, before letting out a strangled cry and convulsing. Snape instinctively took a step back. The person on the floor was writhing uncontrollably, contorting and growing. His body elongated and became slimmer. The thinning, brown hair of Peter Pettigrew became longer, fuller, and lighter. Snape was looking at the transformation of someone who had taken Polyjuice Potion. He took a few more steps back and again raised his wand. He knew the person the fake Wormtail was becoming all too well.

The transformation finally stopped. Panting, the figure got to his feet. He took out what Snape thought looked like Wormtail's wand, which suddenly grew and transformed as well into a cane with a serpent's head. The owner of that cane straightened his robes, and swept his long, blond hair out of his face.

"Evening, Severus," Lucius Malfoy greeted him.