Have I mentioned how grateful I am to heartmom88 and ofankoma for all their help? Believe me, this still wouldn't be finished without heartmom's encouragement and it certainly wouldn't be legible without some serious tweaking by ofankoma.

Chapter Fifteen

Professor Severus Snape had not long been Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft before he had realised that things were coming to a head.

Lily Potter's son had been born at the end of July the previous year. A healthy, happy child by all accounts, surrounded by loving friends and family. Or at least he had been until the family was forced into hiding as the Dark Lord grew in power. A Dark Lord determined to vanquished the child enemy named in a prophesy that he, Severus Snape, had delivered.

The guilt and the fear had churned inside him for months now, shame and horror mingling at the memory of how heedlessly, how proudly he had betrayed his once best friend to her doom.

Lord Voldemort had listened to his pleas to spare her life with an almost indulgent smile on his handsome, patrician face; amused that his young stalwart could have such strong feelings for another man's wife, and a Mudblood to boot. Gentle emotions often invoked a bemused response from the Dark Lord, himself a creature high above such petty follies and human entanglements. He understood only power and loyalty and purity.

Yet he had smiled benevolently and promised that he would try and spare the woman. He could afford to be generous. It was the child he was interested, in after all; the mother was of little interest to him. He could not guarantee her safety, nor was he particularly happy at the thought of his spy being involved with a Muggleborn, but a promise cost nothing. Severus was useful to him, and the Dark Lord would promise him anything to keep him close, especially as he prepared to enter Hogwarts as a teacher. If the boy was to act traitor to Albus Dumbledore under his very nose, it was essential that nothing affect his focus. There was already talk about the boy being admitted to the Order of the Phoenix. It would not do for him to break cover over something so very simple.

So he promised. And while Severus had bowed, almost scraping the floor in a show of obsequious gratitude, his heart was already turning to ice.

Vague promises mean nothing to the truly terrified.

And so he had approached Dumbledore. Confessed to his involvement with the Death Eaters, admitted to each and every unsavoury act he had committed in their name, had bared his branded arm to the ancient wizard's damning eyes. He was judged and found unworthy. He had known that Dumbledore would have no time for someone as pathetic, as twisted and worthless as himself, but he had been certain that he would allow no harm to befall Lily Evans or her family. It was then that he had heard himself promising anything, anything, in return for their safety.

So, Severus Snape turned double agent, a spy with two masters. He lived in constant fear that his treachery might be discovered, knowing there would be no mercy. But greater still was his fear that he might simply displease one of the men who held his reigns. Either man could revoke their promised protection at any moment. The slightest transgression on his part would condemn Lily to death.

And so he had begun his tenure at Hogwarts, teaching students little younger than himself, many of whom remembered his own days at Hogwarts and were inclined to undermine his already uncertain authority. His identity was made known to key members of the Order, and everywhere he turned in that school, he felt himself being watched and appraised. Every single moment was spent in a state of high anxiety, counting down the days until the Dark Lord chose to strike.

The moment came, predictably enough, on Halloween.

It had been expected that a man as fascinated by dark ritual as the Dark Lord would choose a night so steeped in tradition to cement his position and destroy his infant nemesis. How he persuaded the Secret Keeper to reveal the Potter family's location was uncertain, but it had long been believed that there was a spy in the Order's ranks. Severus was not informed of the attack beforehand, despite the less than subtle hints he had begun to drop. He was all too aware that time was running out, and the knowledge made him reckless. Yet he was forced to wait in ignorant silence, feeding what little information he could glean in two directions, his every move planned and dissected by Dumbledore, his every transgression punished by the Dark Lord.

Halloween night he had shut himself in his office, away from the subdued feasting in the great hall, and waited for his Mark to burn in summons.

No summons came.

After what felt like hours of waiting he had fetched the bottle of Muggle Scotch from his desk and had poured himself a measure. Another followed. Then another. It was a stupid, risky thing to do, despite the measure of Sober-Up that sat beside his glass. He would need all his wits about him should he be called, but the constant waiting had driven him to fever pitch. He simply could not go on.

When his Mark began to burn he was almost grateful. But what he felt was not a summons. The Mark writhed and twisted under his skin, filled with a pain greater than anything he had felt since he was first branded. It felt as if something was being wrenched from his very soul, every single nerve screaming out in agony.

He retched, whisky and acid burning his throat as he cried out. He could feel his body begin to thrash uncontrollably, but his mind could focus on nothing but the white, burning pain that threatened to consume him. He could feel himself being dwarfed by it, his mind growing smaller and smaller as it was crushed under the fierce weight of his agony.

-x-

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he came to, sprawled under his desk, his mouth full of the copper tang of his own blood. Blinking up into the silver glow, he realised a Patronus was awaiting his attention. Spitting until his mouth was clear, he had gasped at the ethereal phoenix, demanding answers until Dumbledore's disembodied voice had flooded his sparse chambers.

"Voldemort has fallen. Lilly and James are dead. The Aurors will be coming for you. You will be safe in your office until my return. The child lives."

He hadn't waited for the charm to fade before staggering to his office door. As he had feared, it was locked tight, holding him prisoner in his own rooms.

The physical pain in his arm had driven him into unconsciousness, but there was no relief from the mental anguish of this new knowledge. He had killed Lily Evans.

Lily.

Their friendship may have ended years before, but he had never stopped caring about her. For the longest time, she had been his only friend, the first real friend he had ever had. Even once he had been sorted into Slytherin and began to make connections within his own house, she had still been his best friend, the one person he always looked forward to seeing.

And he had killed her.

In his eagerness to prove himself to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he had gladly offered up what little of the prophesy he had overheard, even though his gut had warned him that the child mentioned would not be allowed to live. So bloody eager to be accepted by the outcasts and pure-blood fanatics that flocked to the Dark Lord's side that he had pledge his allegiance before the Mark had even been offered. So pathetically grateful to be called 'brother' by Malfoy and Lestrange that he had been willing to turn a blind eye to the paper thin quality of their ideals, to overlook the darker side of their dogma. His heart had almost burst with pride when the Dark Lord himself had placed a fatherly hand upon his shoulder and marvelled at Severus obvious talent and keen mind and told him of the place for him in the new order to come.

No wonder Dumbledore had looked at him with such disgust. He deserved every moment's torment. The Aurors could take him and lock him up. Surely no Dementor could conjure up a miasma of grief, sorrow, and guilt greater than the one he already felt?

If only it would end.

In self-defence, he began to pull his shields around him, closing in his mind with Occlumency as Dumbledore had shown him. He built the walls so high and so thick that nothing could penetrate them. His office disappeared as he began to build the memory cage he would so often hide away in, a scene so flimsy that even Dumbledore overlooked it when he searched his Spy's mind.

A canopy of branches, a slight breeze. Green tinged summer sunshine floating down to fill a cool, shady glade. The sound of a stream in the distance, the smell of leaves and earth.

Such a flimsy memory that any Legilimens would simply brush it aside, never guessing what it hid.

He entered the clearing, feeling the light breeze play across his skin, a welcome relief to the fierce summer sun. Nothing could touch him here. He was younger, freer; an innocent with no Marks upon his skin, no reasons to be ashamed.

The last summer of his boyhood.

He crossed the mossy woodland carpet towards the girl who reclined in the dappled sunshine, one arm draped casually across her eyes. A twig snapped under his foot and Emma looked up, a smile of welcome playing across her lips when she saw him. She stretched her arm towards him and he took her hand, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the hard packed earth.

They never spoke, except for the occasional greeting. Often he would simply sit beside her as she relaxed, watching the sun flicker across her face as the branches above moved gracefully in the breeze, wishing he could trace her his fingers across her skin in the same patterns.

Sometimes he came to her in panic, desperate to hide some secret from either of his Masters. Those times she would take the little beaded bag from her pocket and hide whatever it was inside. She never asked him what it was that was so shameful he had to hide it; she simply smiled and zipped the bag closed before stretching out in the sunlight once more. Never questioning, never judging, just hiding parts of him away in a place only she could access. He didn't like to use her memory for such, but it had proven foolproof over the last few months, the only thing he could rely on as his world began to crumble.

This time he didn't let go of her hand but lay down beside her, their fingers intertwined. Mirroring her, he brought one arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight and closed his eyes, simply focussing on the feel of her hand in his and the quiet sound of her breathing.

-x-

It was peaceful, lying there. The greatest peace he had ever known and it was all a lie, just a figment of an overwrought mind. Hiding away from the world.

-x-

Sometimes, in his darker moments, he wondered if Emma had really ever been more than just the product of a lonely boy's imagination. She had always seemed too good, too damned convenient to be true. Turning up when he needed her most. Giving him a place to hide his treachery. Bringing such an undeserved sense of peace.

He squeezed her imaginary fingers and felt his heart contract as she returned the pressure.

It was so tempting just to stay here and hide away from the world. With the Dark Lord gone, there was no real need for him to stay at Hogwarts or to remain in Dumbledore's service. He might never be free of his past, but here at least, hidden away in some sunlit corner of his mind, he could at least manage to forget.

-x-

He felt a moment's panic when he realised Emma's hand was no longer in his. Then he felt the pressure of her hand through the fabric of his sleeve and allowed himself to relax once more.

The hand moved again, touching his face and smoothing back his hair.

This was different. He had never allowed himself to imagine Memory Emma bestowing any more intimate touches upon him, though she had been quick to hold him or to touch him in real life. If it had been real life.

"Severus."

Ah, so this was it. Without waiting for his permission his mind had started its steady, spiralling descent into madness. As he felt her warm hand upon his chest, just above his heart, he had to admit it really was rather pleasant. He had always supposed that his mind would take him somewhere dark and haunted.

This was decidedly the opposite.

"Severus!"

The voice became more urgent, the hands more frantic.

A distant part of his mind suggested that there was someone with him in his office, someone tending to him. He sincerely doubted that the Aurors would be so gentle, and he had never known Dumbledore call his name with such tender possessiveness. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey – Poppy – had been summoned to tend to him. She had always been kind to him.

"Please, Severus, wake up!"

He was loath to leave the comfort of his memory cage, but he could not escape the fact that he had a duty to return. That he would have to face the world sooner or later. He owed it to Lily to be tried and sentenced for what he had done. It would be cowardly to hide.

He carefully dismantled the summer's evening, hiding the trees away until such times that he might need their comfort again. He would, after all, have all the time that Azkaban could offer to spend locked away in his own mind.

Slowly his office came back into view. With it came a wild-haired and frantic-looking Emma.

He blinked.

She was kneeling between his legs, wiping at his face with a clean rag from under his sink. Her face was pale with worry, but other than tha,t she seemed utterly unchanged.

"Emma?" he asked, confused. It had been one thing for his memories to take on a life of their own inside his mind. He had not believed that his fantasies would spill over into his waking world. Yet here she was.

On hearing her name she burst into tears and threw her arms around his neck. She smelt of musty wool and the pink stuff she had worked into her hair. He had forgotten about the pink stuff.

She was really there.

He brought his arms up and touched her gently, his fingers brushing her sides, afraid she might disappear. She was warm and wonderfully solid.

When she pulled away her face was red and streaked with tears. She was beautiful.

"Thank goodness! Are you alright? I couldn't find anything wrong with you, but I don't know very much about dark curses. I tried to go for help, but all the doors are locked and I think there might be a silencing spell on the door too because I can't hear anything from outside—"

She continued to babble as she wiped his face and smoothed his hair. In anyone else the sound would have been irritating, but it felt wonderful just to sit there and bask in her obvious concern. His shields were still half raised and there was something otherworldly about sitting in detached silence while a woman whom he had come to fear only existed in his mind fussed over him.

When she had finally run out words to say – and cleansing charms to cast – he had pulled her towards him again. The angle was awkward and the stone floor must have been hard under her knees, but she sank against him instantly, her arms encircling him and her small hands rubbing aimless patterns on his back. She sniffed quietly, and he realised she had begun to cry again. This time, however, her sobs were small and soft as her arms tightened around him. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes.

Slowly, so very slowly, he allowed the last of his shields to drop. Finally, in the brief respite of her embrace, he allowed himself to feel.

-x-

After a while she moved, sliding down the wall to sit beside him, her arm and leg brushing his, her hand securely tucked in his larger one. It was odd that her physical presence could bring as much peace as her memory could. Yet while her memory would sit with him in silence, it was only a matter of time before she spoke again.

"What happened?" Such a difficult question, far more loaded than she could have guessed.

"I can't talk about it, Emma."

She frowned. "Is this like the last time? Do you need me to guess?"

"God, no," he shuddered. "I don't even want to think about it."

Her brown eyes were so large, almost doe like. "Then what do you need me to do?"

He raised their joined hands, turning his wrist to examine how her fingers twined seamlessly with his. "This is enough."

-x-

There was a sudden flicker and Emma raised her wand automatically as the silver light of a Patronus filled the room.

"I am on my way. Ready yourself."

So, it was time.

"Who was that?" Emma demanded. "What does it mean?"

"Dumbledore is on his way." He stood carefully, helping Emma from the floor before downing the Sober-Up Potion, grimacing as always at the sickly taste. "It is time for you to leave."

"I'll face him with you," she argued. "I won't leave you again!"

It was odd how the world could keep spinning on its axis and other peoples' lives continue as usual, while everything you knew could shift so unalterably in the space of a few short hours.

He smiled.

"I have to leave here, Emma, and I'm afraid I have to go alone." He held a hand up to forestall any argument. "I'll be perfectly safe," he lied. Already his personal wards were warning him of someone approaching his rooms. In a moment Emma would probably be able to feel it as Dumbledore's spell was removed from the door.

Placing his hands upon her shoulders he drew her close and placed a light kiss upon her forehead. "Go," he whispered.

Her eyes searched his for the longest moment before she nodded and let out a tiny, sad sigh. "I'll find a way to come back," she promised.

"I know," he replied. She opened her mouth to reply, but with impeccable timing, she flickered and was gone.

-x-

Headmaster hastily dropped the wards to his Potion Master's office, only too aware of what he might find within. He knew he should have sent a staff member to watch over the boy, but there had been so little time to make any arrangements. Thankfully the Aurors, though hot on his trail, had only just arrived at the castle gates.

Entering the room, he was surprised to find Snape waiting for him, looking as grave and calm as he had ever seen him. He held his cloak over his arm like one expecting to shortly depart.

"Headmaster," he greeted him, nodding his head slightly in deferential greeting. Dumbledore crossed the room swiftly to the now unwarded fireplace, throwing in a handful of Floo Powder.

"We have a few precious moments left, Severus. Come to my office, quickly. There is much we need to discuss."