NOTES: I've gone back and fixed some formatting. I've kind of been more careful about posting to AO3, and just slopping the chapters up here, but for those of you reading it here...I dunno, maybe you'd like to know where the breaks are?
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Felt the loneliness seeping in
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Severus felt like he'd been headmaster for decades. Every day, it seemed like he had more gray hair-it would be quite impossible for him to be a vain man, of course, but he still begrudged every single white hair that appeared in the mirror. And the deepening wrinkles between his eyes did not make him look more distinguished. He looked...old.
He was thirty-seven years old. He'd been headmaster for not quite three months. And still, the Dark Lord sent Nagini to do his bidding.
After those idiot students had broken into his office, he'd made a big show of transferring a copy of the sword to Bellatrix's vault in Gringotts. (He'd been careful to insult the goblins there; it wouldn't do for them to reveal the fake.) He hoped this would prevent further break-ins, and also had a vague hope that somehow Potter would hear about it.
Although, how Potter would hear about it, he wasn't sure.
But one evening in late November when Severus was going over paperwork at his desk, Phineas Nigellus Black gave a startled cry. The portraits around him jumped; Louisa Collingsworth (1832-1844) fell out of her chair. "What is it?" Hartley Oldham (1717-1734) asked.
"Someone's calling me from my other portrait!" Phineas replied.
Severus looked up in alarm. "Go," he said. Phineas did, and Severus waited. He purposely did not check the time.
He did start counting, slowly, in his head. He got to seventy-three when Albus said, "It has to be Harry."
Of course it had to be Harry. Severus didn't need to be told that any more than Albus needed to say it. He ignored the dead man and continued counting at seventy-four.
At two hundred six, Phineas returned with a blindfold painted across his eyes. "Get this blasted thing off me!" he yelled. Hartley Oldham reached over to help him, while Severus suppressed wild laughter.
It appeared that Miss Granger was still in charge of her wits.
When Phineas could once again see, he said, "It was Potter! Potter and his two friends-I could never remember their names-that boy he shared a room with in Grimmauld Place and that mudblood who was always with them!"
"Do not use that word!" Severus erupted.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry!" Phineas replied, still breathless. But he settled back as if he were finished with his narrative.
"Well?" Severus asked. "Where are they?"
"Oh, they wouldn't tell me."
Severus growled. He didn't know why he ever thought anything would be easy. "Why did they call you?"
"They'd heard, Headmaster! They'd heard about the sword of Gryffindor!"
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing important-but they didn't ask anything important, either."
"What did they ask?"
"They asked who removed the sword the last time. They asked how their friends had been punished. They asked if you cleaned the sword, Headmaster!" The portrait scowled as if he'd never heard anything so stupid in his life. "And then they asked me to bring Professor Dumbledore to talk to them!"
"And there were no clues as to their whereabouts-no windows you could see out of?"
"I couldn't see, Headmaster, due to the blindfold." Phineas was usually fairly respectful towards Severus, but evidently even he had his limits.
But at least Potter was still alive. So at least Severus would still get the privilege of telling him he had to die.
And so the holding pattern continued. His former colleagues avoided him; his current colleagues treated him like...like he was their mate, and the students continued to be little shits. Except for Draco Malfoy, who was oddly subdued. Draco should have actively tormented Severus, whether out of jealousy for murdering Dumbledore, or out of shame because Severus had witnessed his failure. But instead, Draco passively tormented Severus by doing nothing. Severus wondered how the boy coped with the Dark Lord using his home as a base-with the Dark Lord's iron will wrapped around the throats of his family.
This must have gone on for another two decades, at least, until term was almost over. In early December, he decided to cancel Christmas at Hogwarts.
It was only fitting, really. Severus could think of no good reason to allow students to stay at the castle, not even those with a fucking Dark Lord staying in their home.
Besides, Draco would want to see his parents.
When Severus told the Heads of House his plans to close Hogwarts for Christmas, Professor McGonagall stiffened and seemed ready to make a comment, but Professor Flitwick spoke first. "I'm fairly certain that none of my students had planned to stay over the holiday, Headmaster."
But Professor McGonagall could not be deterred. "Severus, we've discussed this in the past-some children simply come from homes that are unacceptable, and I will not send them-"
Severus cut her off with a growl, but Professor Sprout jumped in before he could speak: "Minerva, I'm sure we can find suitable arrangements for all our students."
"But Pomona, I refuse-"
"Minerva," the other woman said, and put a hand on her arm. "We'll discuss it."
Good. Perhaps she could explain to Professor McGonagall the definition of "unacceptable" and all the reasons Hogwarts qualified as such. Professor McGonagall probably already knew; she probably just wanted to fight. A part of Severus even welcomed it.
It was another reason they'd gotten along so well Before.
But even this plan to save the students from harm backfired. On the evening that the students left Hogwarts, Amycus cheerfully informed him that Luna Lovegood would not be returning.
"Jes' got word that some of ours escorted her off the train," he said.
Severus wanted to ask why, but didn't think he should broadcast his ignorance. Instead he said, "That's one fewer to worry about, then." He hoped it was just one fewer-who knew how the other students reacted to the abduction of one of their own.
"That, too," Amycus snorted, "but I think they're hoping to keep old Xeno in line."
Severus ended the conversation quickly. He'd not been reading The Quibbler, but resolved to keep an eye out for back issues.
By the time Severus was quite alone in the castle, Phineas Nigellus Black had been called to his other portrait three more times, but was able to report even less than he had the first time. "I know I've said it before, Headmaster-but in this case it is particularly true: I do not understand children. I have no idea why they keep calling me."
But if Severus had to guess at Potter's motivation, he would guess that it had something to do with feelings of isolation, and wanting to know what was going on in a world he was hiding from.
It was merely a guess, anyway, and had nothing to do with Severus's own situation. He'd ordered Phineas to spend some time lurking outside the frame of his other portrait, to try to catch any bit of conversation-any hint about the boy's whereabouts. Unexpectedly, on Boxing Day, this halfhearted plan produced results, and Phineas burst into the frame and announced that Potter was in the Forest of Dean. Severus would have liked more details, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
So he took the sword of Gryffindor and Apparated to the Forest of Dean-vaguely the middle bit of it, as he had no real idea where to start. He arrived mid-morning, and despite using all his magic and a systematic search, he'd found no trace of the teenagers by nightfall.
Well. He'd thought that Potter and his cohorts had been able to evade Deaths Eaters by a combination of their own dumb luck and the incompetence of their pursuers, but perhaps there was some modicum of skill at work as well. He sat down on a rock to think.
It appeared that they were using rudimentary wards and protective magic. Such magic worked against both neutral parties and those who meant harm. Therefore, someone who was completely good ought to be able to pass through the wards. Severus would obviously be repelled, but perhaps he could conjure something that would work.
He needed a place to hide the sword that was difficult to access, but not too difficult. And he needed to hide himself nearby so he could make sure nothing went wrong. He busied himself with preparations, and finally, finally, cast his Patronus. The doe looked at him with her big eyes and nuzzled his hand. "Find him," he whispered to her. "Bring him here. Don't speak to him."
She walked away, picking her steps carefully. He crouched down in his hiding place and waited a few minutes, wondering if Potter would really follow an unknown Patronus into a dark forest. And then he almost laughed at himself.
Not long after, the doe reappeared with Potter close behind. Weasley and Miss Granger were not with him, which annoyed Severus more than he cared to admit. Of course Potter was foolish enough to follow an unknown Patronus into a dark forest, but Severus had hoped that he wasn't so foolish as to do it alone.
But he was in no position to scold the boy for it now. The doe disappeared just as Potter caught up with it. Thrown into darkness, the boy hastily lit his wand. Belatedly, he seemed concerned about his surroundings, holding his wand aloft and looking about warily.
Severus took the opportunity to look at Potter. He was far too thin-thinner than Severus had ever seen him, even with all the sweaters he was wearing. He had the scruffy beginnings of a beard and his hair was in desperate need of a cut. And it appeared at first that the boy had two black eyes, but his eyes were sunken instead of swollen.
In short, he looked terrible. And then he started to strip.
He had bands of ugly bruises around his torso and arms. Bite marks on one arm. (So the Dark Lord still sent Nagini to do his bidding, then-apparently that heart-to-heart about Potter's destiny would have to wait.) And, most oddly, he wore a gaudy pendant on a chain around his neck. The pendant almost concealed an angry wound on the boy's chest.
Severus wondered how the boy was still alive. None of stories told by his wounds gave any hint how he'd survived them. He must be the most stubbornly alive human the world had ever seen. Severus began to doubt that the Dark Lord would be able to end the life of such a person.
And yet, the boy continuously flirted with Death. He did it even now, as he submerged himself in the frozen pool, alone, at night, in a forest. There was a slight ripple to the water's surface, but no other disturbances, and yet...and yet the boy had been under water for far longer than was necessary to grab the sword.
Come on, come on, Severus willed. You've got it, now get out of there.
He stayed still for far too long; the boy must already be dead. He stood in a panic-I just killed the Boy Who Lived!-and wondered how he'd explain this to the Dark Lord-hadn't he just been thinking that the boy couldn't be killed?-but he saw Ronald Weasley sprinting to the pool and diving without hesitation.
Severus froze, but Weasley was already pulling Potter out of the pool, dragging the sword of Gryffindor along with him. Potter was coughing and sputtering, and Severus felt his shoulders sag in relief.
"Are-you-mental?" Weasley scolded his friend, and Severus agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. "Why the hell didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" The boy held up the gaudy pendant, and Severus looked at Potter. With the wound on his chest and a thin red line around his neck, he might still be wearing the ghost of the necklace.
Severus didn't understand the exchange, but to stay and listen was folly. He'd delivered the sword; Potter still lived. He Disapparated.
Before the new year, Severus found the December issue of The Quibbler in the bins outside the Hog's Head. The magazine was generally pro-Harry Potter, and the cover story was baffling.
Break-in at the Ministry:
Part of Potter's Master Plan?
We've all heard about the breech in Ministry security on 2 September, when three persons smuggled themselves into Ministry courtrooms to free Muggle-borns from the clutches of Dolores Umbridge. The story we heard was that the identities of those persons were unknown, and that they posed as Ministry of Magic employees in order to undermine the authority of that august institution.
BUT DID THEY?
This reporter has found out secret information which reveals that the three people who broke in to the Ministry were none other than the Chosen One himself-Harry Potter-and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Their purpose in breaking into the Ministry was actually to steal the lost diadem of Ravenclaw from Dolores Umbridge, which will lead to the ultimate defeat of You-Know-Who. Exactly how Umbridge came to possess the lost diadem remains a mystery.
The article continued, but Severus had read quite enough. Dolores Umbridge, in possession of the diadem of Ravenclaw? What, did she also have the cup of Hufflepuff, the sword of Gryffindor, and-why not-the locket of Slytherin, too?
It was preposterous. These artifacts were legends, nothing more. Except, of course, the sword of Gryffindor, which Severus had personally delivered to Harry Potter.
But something niggled in his mind, and he pulled out the memory of that night in the Forest of Dean and placed it in the Pensieve. He watched it and took careful note of the pendant Potter had around his neck. It was a heavy, golden locket decorated with an ornate script S. Weasley acted like the locket had tried to kill him, and Potter had marks on his body to substantiate that.
"Son of a bitch," Severus swore, and withdrew from the memory, placing it quickly back inside his head.
He had no idea what it all meant. He glared at Albus's portrait, even though the man was snoring loudly. Albus had never wanted him to be privy to Potter's task, anyway.
But somehow, Xenophilius Lovegood seemed to have stumbled upon something that resembled the truth.
Severus woke up every morning, made note of his new white hairs and wrinkles, went to breakfast in the Great Hall, pretended to be amused by the Carrows, tolerated shitheaded teenagers, approved of their torture with his silence, and ignored the other teachers. Then he would go to bed and get up the next morning and do the same thing. It was almost as bad as his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he'd lacked friends but not enemies. However, at least this time he had his death to look forward to; he could not imagine himself surviving the war. If the Dark Lord didn't kill him for his treachery, then those who fought against him would.
Severus had no way of knowing if the sword of Gryffindor was being put to whatever use Albus had intended. Phineas Nigellus was not summoned to his other portrait again, and when Severus sent him to spy on Potter and his comrades, Phineas returned empty-handed.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but wherever they're keeping my other portrait is completely dark and silent."
Severus could sympathize, but tried to keep himself from getting too maudlin.
He was sitting at his desk one night during Easter Break-when the castle was again empty, this time without prompting by Severus, but he suspected Professor Sprout was behind it-when his Mark abruptly burned. It startled him so much that he cried out and somehow managed to knock over a bottle of ink.
He was not being summoned. The Dark Lord was being summoned-to Malfoy Manor.
The Dark Lord-who had been abroad (on very important business, he'd said) for much of the year-had left explicit instructions to contact him in only one instance: the capture of Harry Potter.
"No," Severus gasped. He hadn't told Potter anything...the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated...Dumbledore's plan had not yet been fulfilled.
"What is it, Severus?" Albus asked.
He took several breaths. "It is nothing I can help," he decided, and clenched his jaw. He picked up the bottle of ink, lying on its side, and threw it hard against the wall. He flung all the papers off his desk for good measure. He tried to calm himself, but the chair in front of his desk caught fire.
He let it burn.
He didn't know how long he sat there, frozen, watching the flames dance in front of him, but he was startled out of his near-catatonia when his Mark burned again. This time it was a personal summons, to the gates of Hogwarts. He turned to look out the window and saw a single figure standing outside the gates in the gray dawn.
So where was Potter? Why was the Dark Lord here, alone? He didn't have time to ponder these things; he transfigured the still-burning chair into a lantern and made his way to the front gates.
"Severus," the Dark Lord greeted him.
"It's not often I get the pleasure of entertaining you here, my Lord," he said as he opened the gates.
"Yes, and it is my hope that I don't find you as incompetent as some of your friends," the Dark Lord replied-the only hint that he would give Severus about the night's events.
"That is my wish as well," he replied. "What business brings you here this morning, my Lord? You'll find the castle quite empty." As he said it, he felt gratitude toward Professor Sprout, and buried it quickly.
"Oh, this and that. At the moment, I'm feeling sentimental and wish to walk the grounds alone. I shall join you in the castle shortly. Leave me now."
And Severus did. He waited for the Dark Lord in his office, and if he kept darting glances around him, or opened his desk drawers once or twice without seeing anything within them-well, he could be forgiven a few nervous ticks.
But when the Dark Lord arrived, he was clearly delighted about something-he asked very few questions and chuckled at everything Severus said. He left within ten minutes. Severus escorted him back to the gates.
When Severus returned to his office, he sat down at his desk and silently stared at the closed door for a long time.
"What do you think that was about?" Castro Parmer whispered.
Severus shrugged and looked at Albus, who wasn't smiling. "Nothing good," the dead man said. "Nothing good."
Severus dispatched Phineas Nigellus to his other portrait-just in case-but the elder Black reported no change. "As silent and dark as ever, Headmaster."
Severus wondered if that was good news.
Later that day, Severus received an owl from Miss Lovegood, of all people. Her note read:
Dear Professor Snape,
I said I would tell you if Harry contacted me, and I'm not sure this counts, but a promise is a promise. Harry didn't purposely contact me, but he and Ron and Hermione were all captured, and Harry and Ron were put in the same cell I was in-it was the basement of Mr. Malfoy's home, which was quite nice for a basement, but as it was a cell I didn't like it very much. Don't worry, we escaped, even Hermione-who was tortured rather badly-except that a house elf called Dobby died saving us.
I hope your Easter holidays are well.
Sincerely,
Luna Lovegood
Severus stared at the note for several long minutes, then burned it.
Ginevra Weasley didn't return to Hogwarts after Easter Break, and as the Carrows were upset by that fact, Severus found himself cheered. Still, he made the requisite visit to the Burrow along with the twins, only to find the home abandoned. The clock that showed the locations of family members was gone. Severus walked up to the attic bedroom alone, and found that same creature, lying in Ronald Weasley's attic bedroom, wearing Ronald Weasley's pajamas, and moaning. Well, maybe Molly and Arthur had to leave in a hurry and couldn't tie up all the loose ends.
"Excuse me," he told the creature.
"Unnnggh?" was the reply.
"Your services are no longer needed. You may leave."
"Unnnnnggggh," said the creature.
"Finite Incantatem," he said, and the mop of red hair disappeared, leaving behind a very disgruntled ghoul. "Go back to where you came from," Severus told it.
The ghoul sighed and got up from the bed. The smell was awful; Severus left quickly.
When he reached the ground floor, Alecto asked him, "Don't suppose you found anyone up there?"
"No," Severus said, and they all left together.
It wasn't long before Neville Longbottom stopped showing up to classes. The timing coincided almost exactly with the failed attempt to capture Augusta Longbottom, and Severus hardly thought it a coincidence. The Carrows were outraged at the sudden disappearance of a student, but none of the Professors admitted to knowing the location of the boy. Professor McGonagall protested angrily that she had no idea where the boy was, and that he wasn't anywhere in Gryffindor Tower. The Gryffindor portraits said the same thing, but Severus suspected they were more loyal to the Head of Gryffindor than the Headmaster.
Meanwhile, news started circulating that the Dark Lord had procured a new wand that would finally enable him to kill Harry Potter. Severus thought that it had better be the mythical fucking Elder Wand, or else the Dark Lord didn't have a chance. The Boy Who Lived had an appropriate epithet, after all.
Severus didn't express these doubts to Albus. The headmaster had seemed sure enough, while he was alive, that Potter could die. The old man's death likely hadn't changed his perspective.