A/N – since I didn't want to spent six months of your time making you endure a camping trip with Severus, Minerva, Voldemort, Damyan, Katya and Albus sharing a tent, roasting marshmallows and singing "Row, Row your boat", I've decided that there are in fact, only three Horcruxes.
Not Seven.
The diary, Harry's scar and Voldemort.
If you wish to go camping for the other four Horcruxes, please go right ahead.
Thnxs to T for her help on this chapter.
Ragnarök.
It was the end of the world, Severus knew. The battle lines had been drawn between the good, the bad and the… merely misunderstood.
He bit his lip so not to giggle. Wouldn't want anyone to think he was cracking up.
It was almost comical. The Order and the Europeans were a mob of unruly wands, the Dark Lord's followers … well… they were looking toward the Dark Lord for instructions. Meanwhile, the Brotherhood was in picture perfect formation. After all, they had fifty years in the shadows to practice avenging their embarrassing defeat when their warlock had tripped over a pebble. Three groups of three stood in a line, with the fourth troika standing guard behind them. The Japanese Warlord, Ishikawa Byakko was loudly counting, "Ichi! Ni! San!"
On the count of three, the Brotherhood cast. A row of Death Eaters went down, body parts flying. Blood arched and sprayed in the afternoon air. The Dark Lord seemed unaffected by the massacre, believing that those so easily killed weren't worth sobbing over.
And Severus Snape watched the carnage while his two personal Valkyries stood guard. Well, he struggled to watch. And to comprehend. After all, he was the soul responsible for this perfect magical storm, but his soul was still adrift, floating between the then and now, the past and the present.
"You disgust me." The Headmaster's voice cut Severus to the core. He had come to The Headmaster's for help, seeking a way to save Lily. She had been his friend… his only friend… for so long. Yes, he wanted Lily safe. He didn't care about that bastard James. Just Lily.
Damyan Draganov, no longer hiding behind his false persona of a Manchester shop owner, seemed quite as ease at being the epicenter of a magical maelstrom. He was wand to wand with Lucius Malfoy and he was broadly grinning. Severus observed that Damyan appeared as feral as Remus Lupin during his metamorphosis.
Should that horrify him? That Draganov was berserking? Because of him? He should feel something… shouldn't he? Was his inability to feel a sign of a mental defect? That Severus Snape was witnessing Ragnarök and he felt… nothing.
"You're Malfoy," Draganov stated. "I have so desired to make your acquaintance."
"So, you're the foamer," Lucius dismissed the older mage.
The two wizards gave each other an appraising eye, and then began casting. Lucius, far too comfortable in his ability, swiftly had the painful realization that Damyan was easily his match in skill and ability. The platinum haired Death Eater was energetically casting, yet Damyan was shattering his spells. If anything, the other mage was merely toying with him. It was… a unique experience… for Malfoy as he was used to bullying and intimidating his opponents. Damyan had taken Malfoy's measure and seemed distinctively unimpressed.
"He thought you were his friend," Damyan reminded Lucius. "Yet, you let them do that to him. I believe I have a different perspective on what friendship is. I heard his fever dreams, how he hoped that you would help him. Instead, you refused to aid him. Yes, you didn't take part in what happened, but you also didn't stop it."
Severus shivered. He closed his eyes and exhaled, not wishing to remember.
The dirt… the pain… the… the… Headmaster… stroking his hair… his fiendish smile…
No!
Damyan hooked his hand and motioned. A compelled Lucius twisted and arched, standing on his tiptoes. Malfoy's wand fell from his hand and there was blood was trickling from Lucius' nose. Malfoy's blue eyes were wild in fear as he realized that no one… no one… was coming to his aid.
"I could never think of advancing myself at the expense of a friend," Damyan patiently informed Lucius. The Bulgarian sounded a great deal like Filius instructing one of his more thickheaded students. "Always, Severus, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. Remember my brother, he whose inclination prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you. Samuel Johnston, an eighteenth century wizard. Alchemist and Potions Master."
He continued to hook his hand, calmly watching Lucius Malfoy contort and twist in the breeze.
"Severus? Should I kill him?" the Bulgarian asked Severus. His tone was perfectly reasonable, as though he was asking Severus to pass him more monkshood.
Severus thought of Draco and Cissy and said not a word. For all of Lucius' many faults, he was still loved. Lucius' wife and son both loved Lucius, which were two more people than Severus had. Cissy and Draco had helped him escape from Hogwarts and he should say something… do something to prevent Lucius' death.
As though he had heard Severus' unspoken thoughts, Damyan nodded his head once.
"Very well, I won't kill him. Instead, I will gift him with comprehension," Damyan finally decided. "You will understand firsthand what your silence did to Severus. Remember, Malfoy, friends always show their love. What are brothers for, if not to share troubles?"
With a quick gesture from Draganov, Lucius collapsed to his knees as though he had been hamstrung. He put his hands on his head and began screaming while he began to experience Severus' trauma.
"Proverbs 17:17," Damyan instructed Malfoy. "Perhaps you should read it? After you stop screaming, perhaps?"
Malfoy continued screaming. Severus turned his face away from his erstwhile friend as Lucius was clawing his face. Really, Ariana was far too young to experience that…
"Weak," a disgusted Damyan growled as he soundly kicked the shrieking Malfoy out of his way. For good measure, he savagely kicked the downed Malfoy repeatedly. "He was too weak to defend you and he's too fragile to face your experience head on like you did. Lucius Malfoy, you must learn to endure the unendurable."
Severus couldn't listen to Lucius scream. He sent his soul far, far… away… to an alleyway in Manchester.
"Who are you?" Severus gasped. He pulled away from her as his stomach began to rebel once more. It would do him no good to vomit on these two strangers. Where the hell was he? He had arrived in an alleyway. But where? Eastern Europe?
"I am Oxana, the rather uncouth fellow is Sasha. Can you stand, Adrik?" Oxana questioned.
"Yes," he assured her, but Sasha decided to handle matters in his own unique style.
"I just read your chakras, Adrik, you're too weak to stand. Put your arm around my neck," he stated. "I'll carry you."
Severus did so, and then Sasha slid his arms under Severus' body. The older man was stronger than Severus expected, as he was able to easily pick up Severus.
What luck it had been, to land in that alleyway. To find a Healer… to find… friends…
Albus was busy casting. He needed to protect Minerva and Severus but the bloody Bulgarians, Czechs and French had their own goals. They wanted to go after the Brotherhood, to hell with Voldemort. His alliance with them was paper thin at best as the Europeans failed to realize that Voldemort was the greater danger.
Gellert was in prison. Sixteen mages, no matter how towering their reputations, were of no consequence compared to Voldemort.
It might be a different matter if Gellert was free. But they needed to stop licking their damn wounds, stop reliving their losses to Gellert and fight the more pressing danger.
But Severus… his eyes were so damn glassy, and he just seemed… completely out of it. What was the matter with him?
And a vacant Severus watched while the Headmaster stabbed, slashed and cut with his wand, knowing that the Headmaster was coming… for him. It was time for the miscreant Severus to be punished for fleeing, for causing this conflagration.
He'd be so bloody furious with the reprobate. To actually flee from the Headmaster and to find sanctuary with a Dark Wizard?
What… what… what …would the Headmaster do to him? His transgressions had gone so far beyond mere verbal reprimands…
The Headmaster threatening him.
"But, Severus, you have failed to address one very important issue. What if I'm the true father? What if Poppy discovers that the baby was in fact, created on Christmas, on the night when I took an inconsolable boy to my bed? Do you believe that I will simply step aside and let you flee to Spinners End? Do you think that I will not claim my rights? If necessary, I will go to the Wizengamot, and argue my case."
Rodolphus and Rastaban LeStrange having found their 'nads after the death of Bellatrix, went down with barely a whimper . Severus remembered the LeStrange brothers, how they had been such fierce Quidditch players at Hogwarts. He should feel something… something… rather than… nothing… shouldn't he? Rodolphus had shown him how to ride a broom, had been friendly to him at Hogwarts. Now they were both dead thanks to the hawk-nosed Rada.
His first day working at the shop. He needed to pay for his care. "You're late," Sasha growled. "I expected you thirty minutes ago. I will not tolerate tardiness. Your tools are over there, so set up your work station and be quick about it. You have to get off your lazy arse and start earning your keep." Yet Katya's creative accounting had given him a small stipend… and let him keep his pride. He had to work, and work bloody hard, but both Damyan and Katya worked just as hard.
Teaching Damyan and Ekaterina how to fly.
Damyan deliberately pretending to be slower in grasping the concept just so Ekaterina could be one up on him. Yes, Damyan grumbled and growled, but he was also a respectful student when Severus was teaching him.
There was a scream of "HARRY!" that sounded a great deal like Sirius Black bellowing. Harry Potter. HARRY BLOODY POTTER WAS IN MANCHESTER. The Headmaster would so be beyond furious. Instinctively, Severus searched for the damnable boy he had sworn to protect. Yes, there he was, surrounded by his young friends. They looked excited and happy, as they were too bloody thick to realize that they should be scared.
He'll be so angry with me. He'll be so angry with me, his mind sing-songed. I was supposed to keep Harry safe. I was supposed to do everything the Headmaster wanted, without question, without protest. The presents. The new clothes. The books of arcane knowledge. The Headmaster's overwhelming generosity.
They were just sweeteners so I'd behave, that I'd do everything The Headmaster wanted me to do. I was supposed to keep Potter SAFE. He'll blame me. He'll blame me as this is my entire fault.
Damyan was cutting a wide swath through the battling wizards, easily taking out everyone in his path.
Don't be afraid, Ariana. Your godfather Damyan has a bit of a temper issue, but he loves you. He'll keep you out of harm's way…. He loves you almost as much as I do, but not as much as I do. For you must know, Ariana, no one will ever love you as much as I do.
Draganov wasn't so much mad… as… manic. He was all but gibbering incoherently, but he was creating spells on the spot. Horrible spells that tore and shredded anyone stupid enough to stand in his way.
"The only true difference between the almighty Dumbledore and Draganov the Foamer is that he won. He wrote the history books, Severus. If Gellert hadn't tripped, a new world might have been born on that fateful night. Perhaps, I might even have been considered the hero and Dumbledore the dangerous madman." Damyan heartedly laughed. "Though I'd certainly make an effort to dress to impress."
No. There was a difference between the two men.
The Headmaster knew best. He grew annoyed when his minion Severus disagreed with him, because he was bloody Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore … and he knew best.
Not so Damyan.
He grumbled. He growled. He made caustic aspersions on Severus' intelligence and the lack of it when Severus did something that Damyan didn't want him to do. However, he let Severus make his mistakes. Made him stand on his own two feet. Took an almost paternal pride in Severus' accomplishments, especially the ones where Severus had the bollocks to disagree with him and had been proven correct.
"Watch Wolfie," Toma ordered Ekaterina. He threw the silver leash to the witch and she gingerly grabbed it. The half-giant mage Disapparated and then appeared next to Harry Potter. With a speed that belied his large frame, he grabbed Harry Potter and disappeared once again.
"Otoko no ko ga imasu!" That loud command in Japanese was a signal for the Brotherhood to retreat into a square formation. Damyan was in the middle of the Brotherhood as was the Japanese warlock. To Severus' horror, Harry Potter appeared there also, struggling against the half-giant's grip.
"There is the boy," Katya translated.
Really, did they really need Katya to interpret? It was pretty obvious that the Boy Who Lived was now neck deep in Poo.
"Bloody hell, they've got Harry." Minerva was quite worried about her young lion. "Why do they have Harry?"
Katya glanced at Severus. It was a quick, inscrutable look that Minerva failed to notice and then the witch shook her head. "I have no idea."
Bloody hell, she was lying. Severus knew that she was lying. Candid, blunt Katya was lying. Her personal loyalty was to Damyan, not to the Brotherhood, not to the Order and to no one else.
Toma pulled Harry's hair away from his face and Damyan placed his left index finger on the lightning shaped scar, tracing it, memorizing it, understanding it. The damn scar. That bloody, bloody scar. The Bulgarian knew, understood what it represented, comprehended that Harry was a bloody living Horcrux.
How the bloody hell did Damyan know? Severus had put the pieces together on his own, because the Headmaster hadn't trusted him with the truth. When the Headmaster had realized how much Severus knew, Severus had pledged not to tell anyone.
Swore it on his soul.
Hadn't the bearded figure been the Headmaster?
Or had it been when he was being held by the Dark Lord… or had it been when he had been feverish after collapsing in the Manchester alleyway? Severus had so many dark memories where he had pleaded with the Headmaster, reassuring him of his continuing loyalty, how he'd keep his secrets, pleading with the Headmaster not to hurt him. Had the Headmaster been… Damyan?
Merlin's scrote, he had assured the Headmaster that no would ever know about what had happened between them. Yet, everyone seemed to know that the amalgamation of assorted Albuses had ridden him like a second hand Nimbus 1900.
Damyan who now knew everything Severus had speculated regarding Voldemort and Horcruxes. Which meant the Brotherhood and Gellert also knew. That's why the Headmaster had kept him locked up at Hogwarts…instead of permitting him treatment for his trauma… because … he knew too much.
Because Severus couldn't be trusted to stay loyal.
Because Severus couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Because Severus was the twisted soul whose measly existence had caused this supernatural confrontation.
The Bulgarian put the palm of his right hand on Harry's forehead, gestured toward Voldemort and dramatically intoned, "What therefore God hath created, let not a wizard put asunder."
There was a crack of lightning, the wind began picking up and Damyan gestured toward Voldemort.
"E pluribus unum! I command you to be whole!"
The Headmaster was staring at him. HIM. His face was expressionless, but Severus Snape knew that the Headmaster was bloody furious.
Albus Dumbledore realized that he had no bloody clue what the hell to do. Such uncertainty was a rather unique feeling for a wizard of his many accomplishments. It was a sensation that he would have savored just for its rarity if it wasn't for the fact that everything was going to hell. The International alliance of wizards was fraying as they couldn't agree on their common enemy; Harry was face to face to Draganov who was surrounded by his bloody brethren. It appeared that the Brotherhood knew about his suspicions about Harry being a living Horcrux. But he had never spoken of his concerns to anyone, including Severus.
But Severus was bloody brilliant. How often had the younger man surprised him with a keen, biting observation? So, yes, it was possible that Severus had realized the significance of the lightning bolt shape scar.
Three Horcruxes.
A soul slivered into three separate pieces.
The power of three, a sacred number, a holy number. The diary, which had been destroyed by a basilisk tooth, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Voldemort himself.
Had Severus informed Damyan? Had he exchanged that information for the protection of the Brotherhood? Albus ignored the mocking voice in his head that suggested that Severus had cheerfully shared his suspicions with Damyan. Perhaps it had been when the two men were snuggled together in post-coital bliss, Damyan's hand resting on Severus' swollen belly, enjoying the feeling of Severus and Albus' daughter moving… had a spellbound Severus had a bit of pillow talk with Draganov?
Bloody, bloody hell.
Draganov. Had he seduced the wounded Severus? With pledges of protection?
Didn't Severus know? His benefactor had killed his wife and unborn child in a fit of pique.
Did Severus believe that he was safe? Or did he view Damyan as the thinnest of reeds to keep him from drowning? Severus looked so damn glassy-eyed. Yes, it was glamour, but he looked… bereft.
As though he was completely adrift in the sea.
"For Severus, you are the sea crashing down mercilessly on the shores. He's struggling for all he's worth to tread water right now, Albus. His head is barely above water and he fears that he'll drown when the next waves overwhelms him." Minerva's voice echoed in Albus' head.
A rudderless Severus, completely incapable of charting his own course, battered and bruised by the whimsy of others, viewed his savage savior as a better alternative than Albus Dumbledore.
Harry began screaming which distracted Albus from his musings. To his unease, the Brotherhood had retreated into a tight phalanx, their wands at the ready. That damnable boy was in the middle of the mass of mages, and Albus cursed Harry for not having stayed at Hogwarts.
"HARRY!" screamed Sirius. In a foolish act of defiance, he began attacking the Brotherhood. The Europeans, believing the alliance crumbling, also began milling around the Brotherhood.
There was a crack of lightning, the wind began picking up and Damyan gestured toward Voldemort.
"E pluribus unum! I command you to be whole!"
Something opaque was released from Damyan's hand and it gently floated toward Voldemort.
Voldemort stood amongst his Death Eaters, watching the confusion unfold. Brusquely, he had ordered the leStranges to their deaths and commanded that no one rescue Lucius. Instead, he commanded Fenir and his pack of werewolves to attack the Brotherhood. The Wolves were so far gone in their madness and transformations that they were, at best, Wolves that walked upright. Their humanity was so far gone that they couldn't even cast a single nox spell.
The Wolves were completely untrustworthy, and liable to turn on him at any moment.
Use them as wand fodder, Voldemort easily decided. Hopefully they'd make a sizeable dent in the opposition's forces. Their instructions were simple, get rid of the Foamer and the Japanese warlord. Voldemort doubted that the Brotherhood would still stand shoulder to shoulder without their Foamer and their General to motivate them.
The Foamer who had managed to screw up his plans by hiding Severus, gestured toward him. His magic was weakening; his rage-induced strength was quickly fading. Nothing Gellert's mad dog was capable of producing would hurt him, Voldemort knew. He was indestructible, his soul safely split into two. And it was highly doubtful that Dumbledore would allow anything to happen to Golden Boy who housed his soul.
What was the madman casting?
What had the Foamer released?
A soap bubble? It wasn't even worth the expenditure of energy to step aside, but still Voldemort ordered his followers to renew their attack against the Brotherhood. Several of the mages had already fallen, the rest were doomed as they had retreated back into a tight formation. It was only a matter of when, not if, they were broken, trod beneath Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort was still laughing when he felt the bubble break, and two estranged elements of his severed soul began to merge.
He was… mortal… once again.
Dumbledore hadn't rescued the Boy Wonder. Hadn't blinked an eye when the Brotherhood had captured him.
Instead, he had been focused on Severus. The damn baby. And now an enraged Dumbledore was coming after him.
The only mage that Voldemort had ever feared… was coming after him.
"Angriff!" was the next command from the Japanese warlock. The Brotherhood turned as one unit and began heading towards him and his mage fodder collection of Death Eaters. And the magic blitz began anew, the Brotherhood uncaring that the entire battle had turned and now they were the hunted.
No, they had one goal, to get rid of him. That's the agenda that they had focused upon, the be – all and the end - all of their existence. Let the Europeans attack them, it mattered not to the zealots.
As instructed, Fenir and his group of werewolves still attempted to overwhelm the Japanese armored anachronism. Idiots, they thought he'd be easy pickings, one lone mage against a werewolf so only Fenir went after him. Instead of hamstringing him, the chastened Wolf was being taught to heel. Liberal applications of a silver cudgel and a wildly swinging silver chain kept Fenir at bay.
He wasn't even using MAGIC on the werewolf, as though Fenir wasn't worth the energy. Just simple brute force, a swinging truncheon and a metal rope!
Fenir's adverse reaction to silver and the accuracy of the Japanese mage's strikes had the Wolves cowering and recoiling from the mage.
COWARDS!
A few of his callow Death Eaters upon realizing that the tide of the battle had turned, scattered and ran. The cowards and the frightened Wolves were cut down in mid-stride by the Order and the bloody Brotherhood. With Albus Dumbledore coming after him for some personal attention, the Dumbledore devotees were under the command of MadEye Moody.
Damn Albus. Damn him and bloody Severus to bloody hell.
He'd rip that baby from Severus' belly.
The Bulgarian was tracing Harry's scar. The feel of his fingers running up and down the lightning bolt scar was not just physical. There was a psychological sensation to it, as though his soul was being prodded and manipulated.
"This will hurt," the brusque Bulgarian tersely informed him. "His soul apparently doesn't like him very much, so it's conglutinated itself to yours. Made itself a nice, cozy little nest in your spirit. I'll just have to play with the edges for a bit, and then I'll pull."
There was an agonizing amount of pressure, all concentrated along the length of his scar.
"Stop screaming," Damyan told the shrieking teenager. "Yes, I know it hurts but I figured you wanted to get rid of your little invisible friend. You remember him, the psychopath that lived in your scar? Haven't you ever ripped off a scab? It hurts but it's a good pain."
Harry Potter continued his eppie and finally a rather non-sympathetic Damyan had enough. "Go to sleep. When you wake up, you'll be fine. Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how deeply rooted he was in your brain. You might be left with the mental capacity of a bowl of mushy peas, but really, it's better than having him in your head. You'll thank me for doing this."
"Dog Father! Twelve paces," Toma informed Damyan. "Shall I?"
"Please," the Healer politely requested. His hand was still on Harry's forehead and he was concentrating on severing the two souls. "Rather busy at the moment."
"Delighted," the gracious giant answered. With a quick gesture and a guttural growl, he cast his spell.
His Hex wasn't so much a physical attack. That was what Sirius had prepared for, what he had shielded himself against. The Dog Father was prepared for the Unforgiveables, for an Avada Kedavra , a Crucio or even an Imperio.
What he didn't expect, was empathy.
An overwhelming empathy that overwhelmed him and plopped him into one man's recurrent nightmare.
Sirius was in the Shrieking Shack and Remus was racing to meet him. Not his best mate Remus, but the raving, foaming Wolf. He couldn't turn, he couldn't turn into Padfoot and Remus was coming… was coming for him… the Wolf was launching himself at Sirius… Falling onto the ground, he felt Remus' jaws on his throat, ripping and shredding his throat.
With a suitably dramatic quip, as Damyan knew his flippancy was truly irking Dumbles, he released the Monster's soul back to him. Then he took a deep breath that he hoped no one saw. Really, Damyan was quite knackered as his energy was fading. He pulled upon the nodes, yanking their power into himself, tapping off his personal magical reservoirs. Tapping? More like doing a complete refill as his strength was nearly completely gone.
When this little argument was done, he'd sleep for a week. Preferably at Rada's beach side residence and Naum could take care of Severus. He'd oversee the lad's care, as well; he had gotten rather fond of the sarcastic git. Would refuse to admit it to anyone, but he had. Severus was like having a grandson, teaching him the proper way to brew potions. What with Severus' arrival in Manchester, his coupling with Katya had deepened into something more. It was almost akin to having a proper family, Damyan believed. Ekaterina, the fuzzies, Severus and the little sprog. Just needed to get Severus hooked up with Naum to make everything perfect.
And having lost his family once, like bloody hell would he let it happen again.
Speaking of Severus, where was he? It was hard to keep track of all the balls he was juggling in the air, but Katya and Minerva were guarding the lad. Hopefully, the two fearsome and redoubtable ladies were keeping him out of trouble as Severus seemed to attract it.
It took him a moment to locate him and then Damyan realized that the Monster was about to direct an Unforgiveble on Severus. Bloody hell, he lacked the energy to Avada the bastard. There was no possible way, not from this distance. Had to be closer. Had to be close enough to touch him. The Bulgarian dropped the Boy That Lived to Whinge Another Day and Disapparated.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, during a magical battle that was duly examined and henceforth exaggerated by all the learned scholars, a single pebble had made all the difference. A mage had miss-stepped, his Hex had gone wide and the world had changed.
Now, as then, the smallest occurrence changed the face of the world. The Dragon was weary, but determined to rescue Severus. He splinched himself, losing his left foot in the process. Yet still he unsteadily raised his wand in one last, Herculean effort to save the strays he had rescued.
Albus Dumbledore saw Voldemort begin to cast in the direction of Severus and Minerva. The Russian witch had released her grip on an ailing Remus' chain and had given him a physical push to motivate him to escape. The two witches were standing shoulder to shoulder, determined to protect Severus from Voldemort.
No, no, no. Albus Dumbledore had failed Ariana. He had let down his parents. He had disappointed Elphias, Minerva and Severus by not doing enough. By not being properly demonstrative, by not being properly appreciative of what he had been given, by suffocating a traumatized soul.
He was guilty, had always been guilty and would continue to be guilty of failing them.
Not so again.
He Avada Kedavra'd Voldemort, barely aware of the fact that Harry Potter was also screaming the Hex. There was a crack of lightning, several spurts of green light, and a rumbling noise. Something fell, a body… no… two bodies fell.
A crack? It had sounded like a sloppy Apparition. Had someone Apparated? There had been at least five magicians casting an Avada Kedavra… had someone Apparated into the middle of that magical mess?
Severus? Severus was down on his knees, next to the bodies. Minerva was kneeling next to him, speaking to him but Severus was ignoring her. The resolute Russian witch still stood guard against the magical chaos that surrounded them, but she seemed… somber.
"No, no, no. You promised." A shocky Severus was insistently insisting to the still form.
The motionless corpse was missing a foot but the Dragon tattoos on his forearm… the long hair…
"You promised. You promised that you'd keep me alive until September. There's no way that I can survive that long without you." Severus softly repeated. "I must stay alive as long as I can."
He whispered once more. "But you promised. Three lousy months… so I could see her…Three lousy months… I know… it's not your fault… I know you wouldn't willingly break your oath. She just needs more time…and now she won't have it."
Severus seemed to have gone astray in the head.
Then with an agility that surprised Albus, Severus got to his feet. His dark eyes were full of an unholy fury.
"MURDERER," hissed Severus. His finger was accusingly pointed at Albus.
"Severus… he Apparated…." Albus weakly protested. There were so many Curses flying, could anyone be sure who had cast the Killing Curse?
"You bastard," he spat at Albus. "You've killed her. You've killed Ariana."
A confused Albus looked at Minerva for guidance. Her face was ashen, and her eyes were closed. The Russian witch looked willing to murder him then and there, so there was no help forthcoming from that corner.
"My sister?" a confused Albus asked.
"No, my daughter." Severus then lovingly cradled his seemingly flat belly. "Seems you won't be required to play the role of doting papa. We'll both be long dead before she's viable. Thanks to you."
Severus laughed then. It was a harsh bitter sound, and a bewildered Albus could only stare at Severus.
"Well, at least you won't have to worry about Ariana's existence inconveniencing you. No meeting at the Wizengamot is required now. Your precious, sterling reputation will be maintained," a chuckling Snape informed Albus. "And now, you'll only need the one grave. In fact, I owe you a great deal of gratitude. Thank you, Albus."
"Severus?" questioned a shaken Albus.
"I won't have to share her with you. I won't live in fear of the day that you steal her love from me," raved Severus. "With your lemon drops, your vaults full of gold… your purple unicorns. How could I dare hope to compete with that?"
"I'd never take her from you, Severus. Never," protested Albus. "We'll raise her together. There will be no competition."
"It will be worth it. What the Dark Lord did to me, what YOU did to me. Because Ariana will be mine… forever. Never yours… only mine. The two of us will be together forever."
And Severus continued to laugh.