Title: All That Glitters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: And the sudden cry brought short by that flash of light was enough to tell Harry that nothing would ever be the same.

Author's note: So, as I am sure you can probably tell by the summary, there will be character death in this chapter. But I still feel I should give an official warning, so... Warning: There will be character death in this chapter.

Chapter Eighteen: An Uneven Trade

The grave was only dimly illuminated by the light overhead. He would have come during the day, but the last thing he wanted right now was to be seen by anyone who might start asking questions. After all, why would a long estranged son come to his father's grave? Particularly when that son was known to be a Death Eater by some?

Severus Snape sat on the ground at the foot of the gave and frowned at the words Tobias Snape etched across the stone marker. The trials continued nearly day and night, and it was clear to anyone with half-a-brain that Crouch wanted revenge just as much as he wanted justice. Snape gave a grim smile. He should know; he was so well acquainted with the desire for revenge.

The Headmaster had promised to protect him, and true to his word, Snape had not yet been accused. He wondered vaguely if it was only a matter of time.

His father had been dead for three years, and he had only visited the grave once before, on the day of the funeral. He had little reason to come, having no fond memories of his father. Still...
Being a half-blood in Slytherin had not been easy. The few who knew about his birth took great pains to remind him of it, but that had only driven him further and harder towards the goal of proving himself worthy. And he had his father to thank for that.

A grim smile twisted his lips as he remembered his father's sightless eyes and lifeless face. The smile was not one of pleasure, but rather a bitter sort of irony - the man who had once scorned and mocked anything magical had died from his own stubbornness about the subject. His wife might have been able to protect him from the Death Eaters that attacked that night, had he returned home instead of wandering from pub to pub. She loved him until the end, even with all his faults.

He doubted his mother would live much longer. She was heartbroken, and had wasted away into someone almost unrecognizable after his father's death. Even after all the years of emotional and physical abuse, or perhaps because of it, she could not imagine her life without him. Snape considered it a miracle she had even lived through these past three years.

The war was over, although if Dumbledore was right, it could very well start again. He did not know how to survive in a world of peace, having spent so much of his energy focusing on all the various aspects of war. This would be a new experience certainly, but even more strange was the idea that he would actually being teaching. It was one more bit of proof for him that the Headmaster was clearly daft, because who in their right mind would ever want him to be a professor?

He let out a slow breath and continued to stare at his father's name, over and over until the words blended before his eyes. Without the shadow of the war looming over him, he could finally see some of the lessons he had learned.

"You were a violent, drunken lout, and a miserable excuse for a father," Snape muttered softly, "and I will never forgive you for what you did to me and Mother, and for what you are even now doing to her."

The Death Eaters had tortured the older Snape before killing him, as they often did with Muggles. No one had ever determined if Tobias had been killed because of his connection to his wife and son, or if he had simply been in the wrong place and the wrong time. Even Severus did not know the answer to that, and he had never bothered asking the question. In truth, he did not want to know why his father had died. It would change nothing, after all.

"But... I am sorry for the manner in which you died," Snape said finally, feeling a weight lifting from his chest as he said those words. "You might have deserved to die, I guess I don't really know. But I know you did not deserve to die in that way, so horribly and painfully. No one deserved that. Not even you."

The moment Harry felt his feet touch firm ground, he let go of Hannigan's hand and drew his wand. The scene before him froze, everyone seeming surprised by his presence, just as much as he was surprised to find the people before him. He was standing in a dreary basement, dark and dank and smelling of rot, while Yaxley, Runcorn, and Hannigan all stared at him. Snape, Kingsley, and Headmistress McGonagall's bodies stretched out across the stone floor, still and unmoving.

And then the stillness was broken by a burst of light, and Harry instinctively through himself sideways and out of the way of the attack. Silently thanking God for his Quidditch-trained reflexes, Harry rolled over onto his knees and sent an awakening spell towards Kingsley's still form even as he dodged a second attack and brought a protective shield up around him.

"You fool!" Runcorn was snarling at Hannigan as Harry dove behind the crumbling staircase. "How could you bring him here?"

"I didn't... di-didn't know," Hannigan stammered, but Harry noticed his eyes were fixed tightly on Kingsley and the Headmistress. The Auror was rising to his feet, and seemed able to react quickly enough to the situation. In a display of very well controlled wandless magic, he summoned Snape's wand back from his captors and caught it easily as it flew through the air. He sent a few spells in rapid succession towards the three enemies, forcing them backwards and away from the the still-unconscious McGonagall and Snape. Runcorn and Yaxley both easily blocked the curses, but Hannigan, still shocked and unsure, was unable to bring a shield between himself and Kingsley in time, and he stumbled backwards as the full force of the blow hit him in the chest.

Harry, from his place behind the staircase, aimed another spell at McGonagall. She jolted awake, her eyes opening with a start.

"You'll ruin everything!" Runcorn hissed at Hannigan, but the other wizard was too dazed to reply. He was slumped against the cold wall, his eyes glazed in pain and confusion. His head jerked slightly at the sound of Runcorn's voice, but then he seemed to drift off again.

Harry fired a stunning spell at Runcorn, who was forced to drop to the ground to get out of the way. That movement brought him close to Yaxley, who nearly tripped over his ally's body.
Kingsley quickly took advantage of the momentary confusion caused by Harry's spell, and pulled Minerva to her feet. She wavered slightly, and the hardships of kidnapping showed clearly on her features. She was gasping for breath, as though the struggle to find oxygen in this room was nearly beyond her power. Kingsley felt a sudden welling of fury for what these three villains had done to her.

But he could not waste time assessing her needs. Runcorn had already managed to revive Hannigan, and now all three wizards were facing them with expressions of determined cruelty. Harry still kept his place behind the stairs, casting curses through the spaces between the wooden boards, but it would only be a matter of time before he was surrounded.
Kingsley gave a fervent prayer that he was doing the right thing, and waved his wand at the potions Master, bringing Snape back to reality.

Black eyes darted open, and then Snape was on his feet so quickly. His eyes swept the room, searching for his wand, before he realized Kingsley was using it. The Auror's own wand, broken during their first attempt and infiltrating the house, lay uselessly discarded towards one of the far walls. Without a wand, he would be able to inflict little damage against their enemies, but Kingsley did not appear willing to give up his hold on the only weapon he had.

"Shacklebolt," he started, but Kingsley shook his head.

"Not now," he hissed dangerously before thrusting Minerva into the potion Master's arms. "Keep her safe." And he turned back to the fight.

Snape yanked Minerva through the dingy basement, his eyes searching for any sign of a hiding place. Behind him, the flashes of light indicated the battle had reached full-swing, and his only thought of comfort was that Shacklebolt was a skilled duelist, and if he had to be trapped in a basement fighting the remains of the Dark Lord's supporters, he was reluctantly glad that it was the Auror who was here with him.

The basement twisted at one point, a small niche appearing in the walls. He settled Minerva on the ground there, noting the pale tinge to her skin and the dimming light in her eyes. But she was looking at him, and in her eyes he saw something appraising.

He did not have time to question what it was he saw, however, as he heard Kingsley shout, "Snape!" and turned just in time to see a piece of wood fly through the air directly in front of him. It was his own wand, and he caught it will practiced ease. One quick look told him that Hannigan had been disarmed and stunned, and Harry had emerged from behind the staircase to duel directly with Runcorn. Kingsley was now fighting with Hannigan's wand, but even so, the battle did not seem to be in their favor. Runcorn was putting up a vicious fight, and Yaxley had more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

"Stay here," he said to Minerva before quickly joining the fray.

"What are you doing?" Harry shouted at Kingsley as he sent a cold glare towards the potions Master. "How could you give him back his wand?"

"Focus on the fight, Potter, unless you'd like to end up leaving here in a casket," Snape retorted, flushed with indignation.

Kingsley, acting as though Snape had not even spoken, said, "He's on our side, Harry, at least in this."

Harry seemed about to argue, but a spell from Runcorn grazed his shoulder, and he cried out in pain before sending a retaliatory attack. There was blood on the fabric of his robes, but he paid it little attention even as the pain spread through his arm. It was not enough to keep him from fighting, and the rage that had been building for so long seemed almost to explode out of him and spell and spell left his wand. It was all Runcorn could do to keep one step ahead of his opponent. But even his incredible skill with a wand could not prevent him from being backed up against the wall due to the force of Harry's onslaught.

And then the ground began to shake.

It took a moment before Kingsley realized that the house itself was fighting against them. There was no earthquake outside, no sudden natural disaster that caused the very foundations to creak and groan. Instead, the house was moving itself, rocking back and forth, forcing them to lose ground as they struggled to stay upright.

It was Yaxley's house, after all, and it was not so inconceivable that the young Voldemort supporter would have some control over its structure. In fact, Yaxley and Runcorn seemed unfazed by the sudden movement, giving them an advantage.

A cry of horror caught Kingsley's attention, and he whipped around in time to see Yaxley send a killing curse towards Minerva. But even as the cry was leaving her mouth, she had ducked and rolled out of the way. Lifting one hand, she pointed at Yaxley, and he was blown off his feet. But the concentration and power needed to control such wandless magic took its toll, and Minerva slumped to the ground, pain in her eyes.

The Auror tried to take a few steps in her direction, but the floor sloped upwards and he stumbled, tumbling back to the ground. Snape was having better luck, and he managed to make it to the Headmistress' side in time to fend off another attack, this time from Runcorn.

Minerva looked at him through glassy eyes, and pushed herself into a sitting position. A small patch of red was slowly spreading across her disheveled robes, indication that she had been hurt. But that pain seemed to cause her little discomfort, and instead she was so out-of-it, that when she finally opened her mouth to speak, Snape was surprised that her words were actually coherent.

"You're helping us," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"What happened?" Snape demanded, not bothering to answer her statement. "What did they do to you?"

"A spell," Minerva gasped. "Don't know... which one. And potions. Can't remember..." The fog was settling over her mind once more, and her gaze slid past him towards the fight. "Why Dumbledore?"

Snape shook his head, not wanting to get into this conversation at that moment. He truly doubted she had enough presence of mind to understand anyway, so why waste time with excuses that would fall on deaf ears?

"Protecting her, are you?" Runcorn sneered as he came closer. Behind him, Snape caught a glimpse of Harry on the ground, Yaxley standing over the boy. Kingsley was now dueling with him, clearly fighting to protect Harry, but the Boy Who Lived was still managing to fire a few of his own curses, and it appeared that the two might actually win.

If only the ground would stop shaking...

Snape sucked in a slow breath and focused on his opponent, trying to determine his weaknesses, trying to find an opening he could take advantage of during the duel. He knew Runcorn was trying to goad him, and he did his best to keep his emotions tightly in check, but for some reasons the words kept getting through the cracks in his mental armor. He had spent so long separating his thoughts and his actions as he attempted to bring about the end of the Dark Lord's reign, and for all those years he had been forced to ignore the cruel remarks that would have most likely destroyed his younger, more emotional, self. So if he had succeeded against the Dark Lord, why was he failing now?

"What's the matter, coward?" Runcorn hissed, and Snape flinched at the insult.

And in that moment, he knew exactly why he was falling apart now, exactly why he had ended up in this trap in the first place. The adult Severus Snape would have been more cautious, more detached, more controlled. But he could see visions of James Potter floating before his eyes, and his blood boiled with hatred every time he looked at the younger Potter. Even if the boy had Lily's eyes...

He was not acting like the adult Snape. He was acting like the teenager who had let himself be defined by the bullies who tormented him, and who had struck back with blind words and cruel retorts. As he had told his Secret-Keeper, when it came to Lily Evans, he had made more than one mistake, and somehow this entire situation had gotten under his skin in a way nothing else had for years. He felt like a child again, like someone who had betrayed and lost his best friend and love... someone who had no professors to take interest in him, no family situation worth returning to during holidays...

The transfiguration Professor had been one of the few to trust him, one of the few to give him a chance, both as a child and as an adult. And here he was, once again struggling for her acceptance and respect. But that was exactly the problem. Even if he refused to admit it to himself, a small voice in the back of his mind pointed out that he had wanted to prove, both to Minerva and to Shacklebolt, that he was worthwhile. The adult Snape could have ignored that desire, but the teenager...

And as long as he clung to his need for approval...

Decent people may be easy to manipulate, but so where insecure ones.

With that thought in mind, he struck out at Runcorn, and the other wizard was slowly driven backwards.

"You are, as always, such a fool," Runcorn continued, struggling against the spells. "You were always so determined to believe that you were better than the rest, weren't you? But now look at you! An outcast, abandoned by anyone and everyone. So much for all your sacrifices. You're no better than a Muggle, now, or a Mudblood..."

"Don't say that word!"

The cry escaped from his throat, even as pain and anger and fury clouded his judgment and he faltered, temporarily losing control of his emotions once again.

Runcorn, however, was just as surprised by the emotional retaliation, and paused, confusion in his gaze. "Why don't you like the word?" he asked mockingly, not knowing the true reasons behind Snape's ire, only that he had found yet another weak spot in Snape's otherwise almost impenetrable emotional armor.

"Lily Evans..."

The two words were so soft that Snape barely caught them, but they redirected his attention temporarily back towards Minerva. She was staring at him as though she had never seen him before, and his heart clenched painfully as the whispered name left her lips. What did she know?

He did not have time to contemplate that question, however, as Runcorn continued to advance. He turned around once more, facing his enemy, and prepared for the attack. Kinglsey, he noted, had been hurt, but he still looked to have the upper hand, and that was all he could really ask for at that moment.

He had to survive.

And with that thought in mind, he struck fast and hard, advancing slowly, grimly, and with a cold determination.

Minerva, for her part, understood little of what was happening. Her mind was still caught in a haze of colors and lights, a sort of dull fog covering her senses as though she had been wrapped in cotton. She could feel her own rapidly beating heart, and her lungs straining against the confines of her chest, but everything else was distant.

Snape, Kingsley, and Potter were here.

Dumbledore's portrait had said he trusted Snape, or implied it at any rate.

Runcorn and Yaxley had called Snape a traitor. And a decent man.

And Snape had looked at her as though his entire world had been ripped apart before his very eyes just at the moment that she whispered the name Lily Evans.

But Snape had killed Dumbledore. Snape had turned Hogwarts into a home for would-be Death Eaters. Snape had been responsible for the death of James Potter.

And Lily Evans.

Across the room, Harry was having his own troubles as Hannigan regained consciousness. It did not take long for Yaxley to summon another wand for his disarmed ally, and although Hannigan seemed to have no idea where it came from and some problem using it, he still fought with a vicious power. But there was something in his eyes, a faltering expression, and Harry felt the tiniest bit of suspicion that Hannigan did not want to hurt him. He used this to his advantage as best he could, but with Yaxley and Runcorn still putting up a fierce fight, he knew they were in trouble.

He changed a quick look at Runcorn, and noted vaguely that Snape was suddenly fighting with a much more determined expression on his face.

Snape...

The fury burst out of Harry in the form of wandless magic that was completely uncontrollable. Hannigan fell to the ground, unconscious and bloodied, even as the room around him stopped shaking and the floor settled beneath his feet. The air was heavy with the feeling of power and magic, and Runcorn, stunned by the display and by Snape's sudden change in demeanor, did not see the curse coming until it knocked him to the ground.

And then there was another flash of light. Red light.

The spell was aimed at Snape, and the triumphant look on Yaxley's face clearly indicated that it would bring pain to the potions Master. Snape was turning towards the curse, but not fast enough to register the danger, and everything seemed to slow down until...

Snape fell, his body twisting, knocked to the ground by something heavy. He looked up and saw Minerva standing above him, her eyes focused straight ahead, her lips parted in a cry of fear. He was not sure if the fear was for him or for her, and then...

"Minerva!" Kingsley shouted, hysteria in his voice. Harry, too, felt the panic welling within him, but could not find the words to cry out anything at all. So he was forced to watch in horror as the jet of red light hit her in the chest. They did not know what the curse was. But Minerva's cry sputtered suddenly, and she collapsed to the floor, blood pooling around her mouth.

And the sudden cry brought short by that flash of light was enough to tell Harry that nothing would ever be the same.

Minerva rolled to her side, agony suffusing her entire body. She knew everything inside of her was broken, and the darkness of death was edging into her vision. She looked up to see Snape's horrified face leaning over hers, and wondered if she had been in time to save the others.

"So-sorry..." she choked, and then her eyes glazed over and her gaze moved past Snape until she was seeing nothing at all.

Snape did not notice Yaxley sieze Runcorn's unconscious form and disappear. He would not have cared, even if he had seen it. He could think of nothing but Minerva, and that she had thrown herself into harm's way, sacrificing her life for him. Did she know the truth? Did she suspect? He wasn't sure, and now that she was gone he could never ask her what had led her to do something so reckless and stupid. Had she even known what she was doing?

There were so many things left that he wanted to apologize for, to justify, to explain. And how he would never know how she would have reacted to the truth. Now he would never know if she could forgive him for all the lives he was forced to take and all the people he was unable to save. He had tried his best, but she was gone.

Like Lily.

Why would she die for him?

It seemed like such an uneven trade.