To be honest, the only reason this is in chapters is because of the word count – it was too long to be a one-shot (at least for ; anything more than about 2,500 words and people often lose interest).

Chapter 1

Three weeks later, the courtroom was packed. Everyone was there to witness Severus Snape face a murder charge. The vast majority were desperate for a 'Guilty' verdict; a few were there for entertainment and a few, such as the Malfoys, just wanted to see a fair trial.

A door banged heavily shut and the courtroom fell silent as Snape was led to the chair in the centre. He did not struggle or attempt to break free from the two Azkaban wardens who stood on either side of him, and he had his usual emotionless expression on his face. The robes he wore were clearly very expensive ones, but they did not hang well on his thin frame, obviously made for someone else.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, got to his feet as Snape sat down and the chains snapped around his wrists. "Severus Snape," began Shacklebolt, "you have been brought here to face the charge of the murder of Albus Dumbledore last year. How do you plead?"

Snape raised his head and his black eyes calmly met the Minister's. "Not guilty."

A huge wave of muttering broke out among the audience and one young man leapt to his feet. "Liar!" he yelled angrily.

Shacklebolt loudly cleared his throat. "Please respect the court and remain silent unless directly addressed. Thank you." He looked around the room. "Any further interruptions will result in the person interrupting being immediately ejected from the court." He turned back to Snape. "Is it true that on the night Albus Dumbledore was murdered, you were present?"

"It is," replied Snape quietly.

"Reports claim that you were the one to use the Killing Curse."

"I did."

"On Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Was it, then, in self-defence? Did Dumbledore attack you first?"

"No. When I arrived on the tower, he had already been Disarmed."

"Yet despite all this, you deny murdering him?"

"I do."

Shacklebolt looked slightly perturbed. "Then explain to me – and to the court – how you can make such a claim."

Snape took a deep breath. "During the school summer holidays two years ago, Dumbledore began to track down in earnest the Horcruxes that he believed the Dark Lord to have created in his ambition to beat death and achieve his greatest desire: immortality. Dumbledore found one – a ring – and destroyed it, but because the creation of a Horcrux is so Dark, so unspeakably evil, the effect of destroying it can do great damage to the one who destroys it. I am sure many people remember the state of his hand afterwards – wrecked, withered, useless. You, Minister, must be able to recall that."

Shacklebolt nodded.

"There was nothing that either I or Poppy Pomfrey could do to reverse the effects of the curse, not even slightly. It soon became apparent that the destruction of the Horcrux had condemned him to a slow and agonising death. Poppy and I concluded that we were ultimately unable to prevent the spread of the curse and that he had a maximum of a year to live." He met Shacklebolt's eyes again. "He opted to not reveal this to anyone in the Order of the Phoenix because he felt it would destroy morale at such a difficult time. This is also why he used his remaining time to teach Harry Potter as much as he could. By the time the night of his death came, he had three, perhaps four at the most, weeks to live. Those final weeks would have been agonisingly painful – imagine being under the Cruciatus Curse for most of that time. He knew he was dying and that he would be dying soon."

"So you're saying that this was a mercy killing?"

"Partly, yes. If you want more evidence about his condition, you can ask Poppy Pomfrey."

Shacklebolt banged a small hammer on a table. "I call Poppy Pomfrey as a witness."

From one section of the audience, Pomfrey stood up.

"Did you share Professor Snape's opinion of how long Dumbledore had left to live?"

"I did. I also concur with what he stated about the levels of pain Dumbledore would have been in."

"Do you believe that Professor Snape's actions saved Dumbledore from that suffering and an agonising death?"

Pomfrey nodded firmly. "Without a doubt."

"Thank you. That will be all." He turned back to the defendant as Pomfrey returned to her seat. "The court understands that Lord Voldemort had a plan in which Draco Malfoy was given the task of committing the murder, that he was about to do so that night when you arrived on the tower. Is this true?"

"It is," confirmed Snape. "Draco was intended to fail at this; it was a punishment for his father's recent failings in the eyes of the Dark Lord, and for his arrest."

"Then why did you not let him continue?"

"Draco Malfoy is many things, but he is not a killer, not a murderer. I could not let his soul be stained with such an horrific act."

"Yet you were willing to do it yourself?" asked a tall, bespectacled wizard with brown hair. His voice was scathing. "I suppose you saw it as a noble sacrifice?"

Snape sighed heavily. "I would not put it in such a way."

"Then how would you put it?"

"My soul is tarnished and stained as black as my hair; I had no desire to see the same happen to an innocent child. I have done many, many atrocious things and would not wish that stain or guilt on anyone like Draco, on anyone who is not already tainted."

"Why Draco Malfoy? Why protect him?"

"Why not?" countered Snape. "And who might you be? I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance."

"Aubrey Hughes. Legal assistant to the Minister."

"Thank you for finally informing me of your identity," said Snape sarcastically.

"Just answer the question: why Draco Malfoy?"

"Because he is my godson, as well as being one of my charges as a student in Slytherin House. And because his mother asked me to protect him. I made an Unbreakable Vow with her."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at this and a number of heads searched the audience for Mrs. Malfoy. Narcissa closed her eyes and bowed her head as she remembered that night, when she had begged Severus to make that Vow. Unconsciously, she gripped her son's hand in hers; he rested his head on her shoulder, a silent acknowledgement of, and thanks for, what she had done for him.

"Is Narcissa Malfoy here?" demanded Hughes.

Shaking, Narcissa got to her feet. "I am," she said clearly, sounding considerably braver and calmer than she felt.

"Did you make this Vow of which Snape speaks?" asked Hughes.

"Yes. When – when I found out what the Dark Lord had planned for Draco, I went to see Severus; I needed his help, I needed to know that Draco was protected. I asked Severus to make the Vow." At this, Hughes glanced at Snape, who nodded in confirmation. "He didn't want to do it; he tried to talk me out of it –"

"Why?" asked Hughes, directing the question at Snape. "Why try to dissuade Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I did not think making the Vow to be wise," replied Snape.

"Then why did you not talk her out of it? You can be very persuasive; why did you finally relent?"

"Was anyone else there?" interjected Shacklebolt. "You must have had a Bonder."

"My sister Bellatrix," said Narcissa, practically spitting out the name. "She followed me to Severus's. I didn't want her to come but I couldn't shake her off."

"If Bellatrix had not been present, I believe I would have been able to dissuade Narcissa from making the Vow," continued Snape. "But I had to: it was the only way I could convince Bellatrix that my true allegiance lay with the Dark Lord, not Dumbledore – even though in actuality her suspicions were correct. By then, the Horcrux had been destroyed, the conclusion about Dumbledore's impending death reached, so I saw an opportunity to protect Draco, persuade the necessary people that I had turned away from Dumbledore – and was spying on him and the Order for the Dark Lord – and if things worked out the way Dumbledore and I then planned, I would be ensuring that he had a quick and painless death, rather than a slow and agonising one caused either by the curse or certain followers of the Dark Lord like Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange."

Shacklebolt frowned. "What do you mean, you and Dumbledore planned? Mrs. Malfoy, you may sit."

"After I made the Vow, I told Dumbledore of it. He asked me to kill him when the right time came. I did not wish to go along with this, but I knew that there was no other real option.

"So yes, I did kill Dumbledore in the sense that I was the one to cause his heart to stop beating and his lungs to draw air, but I did not murder him. Even at the last, on the tower, I did not want to go through with it, I was wavering, but he pleaded with me, begged me to follow through. So I did, because I trusted him completely."

Hughes narrowed his eyes at Snape. "An interesting work of fiction – most convenient that the only one who can verify your claim is dead."

"That's not the case," somebody called out from the audience; the crowd gasped as Harry Potter made his way down to the centre of the room, close to Hughes.

"What on Earth do you mean by that? You may be The Boy Who Lived Twice, but that does not mean that your word alone is sufficient."

"Professor Snape gave me his memories; I saw them in a Pensieve. Dumbledore wanted Snape to kill him and Snape didn't want to but he knew that he had to. And of course, who amongst the Death Eaters – and even Voldemort himself – would suspect his true loyalty to be to Dumbledore after this? I once told Scrimgeour that I was Dumbledore's man through and through; well, so is Severus Snape, perhaps even more so than me."

Hughes looked rather taken aback. "I seem to recall it being common knowledge that you desired to see Snape punished for what he had done, for the murder."

"I did," said Harry, "but that was before I knew the whole story. As he was dying, Professor Snape gave me his memories. Once I saw them in the Pensieve, I realised the truth." He paused and turned to Snape. "I'm sorry I called you a coward that night, sir. I didn't know the things I do now. You weren't a coward; I realise now that you're the bravest person I've ever known. Please forgive me." This set off another ripple of murmurs.

Snape met his eyes. "Accepted and forgiven, Potter. Understand that I had to make you think that way."

"I do understand, sir. And – and I think my mother would have felt the same way. I'm sure she'd forgive you, too."

And then, to the shock of everyone present, Severus Snape smiled and tears glistened in his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Touching though this little scene undoubtedly is," cut in Hughes brusquely, "it is deviating considerably from the point. Mr. Potter, please return to your seat."

"I am willing to undergo questioning with Veritaserum, if you feel it would help your case," offered Snape neutrally.

Hughes, thought Narcissa, looked extremely torn – if he now opted to not use the most powerful of truth potions, he would face accusations of attempts to pervert the course of justice and rendering the trial unfair whatever the verdict, but at the same time it meant there was more chance of a guilty verdict being returned. If he chose to use it, he clearly feared that Snape would repeat what he had already said, proving what he and Harry Potter had already stated. Narcissa desperately hoped that he would opt for the potion.

Hughes turned to Shacklebolt. "Minister, what do you think?" he asked.

Shacklebolt shrugged. "I don't particularly mind either way. However, there is an alternative."

"There is?"

"Yes. A few years ago, a group of Muggleborn Hogwarts students – Ravenclaws, unsurprisingly – developed a way of showing Muggle movies to their friends who had grown up in the wizarding world, without the need for all the difficulties encountered when attempting to use Muggle electronics. They simply connected a Pensieve, containing the memory of the entire movie, without error because that is what is buried in the subconscious part of the brain, to some kind of orb that projected the movie onto a wall or screen. I understand that they are in the final stages of patenting it. I believe it is called the Memory Projector or somesuch. I know that at least one of its creators was intending to be here today. Are they?"

Two young women stood up and the redheaded one waved to draw attention to them. "We even have one here with us," she added. They made their way down to the centre and set up their invention. Journalists were frantically scribbling about this new creation and everyone else was transfixed by it. Narcissa glanced at her husband and son, amused by the fascinated expressions on their faces; then she caught sight of Arthur Weasley, an identical expression on his face and practically drooling.

Her next look was to Severus; their eyes met and there was a small, triumphant smile on his lips. Narcissa smiled back encouragingly.

"Is this really necessary?" demanded Hughes. "What exactly is wrong with Veritaserum? Snape even offered to take it!"

"You once told me you didn't trust him even when heavily dosed with it," Shacklebolt reminded him, "even though all the research ever done indicates that you cannot build up a tolerance to it like you can with some poisons. With this method, there is no control over how things are said, and additionally, it will be very obvious if attempts have been, or are being, made to tamper with them."

Narcissa let a satisfied smirk plant itself firmly on her lips when Hughes scowled. He had been in the same year as her at school; his arrogance and sense of self-importance had been bad then, but now it was far worse. She and her fellow Slytherins had relished taking him down a few pegs each term – or at least attempting to do so – and on a few occasions, had been joined by equally annoyed Hufflepuffs who had got fed up of his superior and patronising attitude towards their House. Lucius tore his eyes away from the device being set up long enough to see the scowl and he reached across to touch his wife's hand. "Such a pleasant sight," he murmured. Hughes had been his biggest rival at school so there was no love lost between them, either. He straightened up when it was apparent that the device was ready to go.

"We will view the memories one at a time," Shacklebolt informed the roomful. "I would like to see the point at which you learn that Voldemort is appointing Draco Malfoy to carry out the task of murdering Dumbledore." He released the chains around one of Snape's wrists and handed the Potion Master's old wand to him.

"What the hell are you letting him have a wand for?" yelled the young man who had earlier called Snape a liar.

Shacklebolt nodded to two security wizards, who efficiently removed the man from the room. "Severus, if you would, please?"

Obligingly, Snape extracted the memory from the Pensieve; the redheaded ex-Ravenclaw put the cloudy blue orb into the Pensieve, where it started spinning and then projected the memory onto a screen. The courtroom watched in silence as Snape and Voldemort stood in a small, dimly-lit room, Nagini slithering around their feet…

~TBC~