One more chapter to go after this one. Thanks for reading everyone. Also, sorry for all the updates at once. It's almost over, though.

Spinner's End

June, 1997

Along the river, the grass, once a brilliant emerald, was now a dead, indifferent brown, killed by the chemicals that lately flowed down the river from a factory upstream. Through the window of his house Severus could smell its polluted waters, an acrid stench worse than anything one could find in his Potions classes. Not that he taught Potions anymore.

Severus turned away from the window, then planted a boot viciously into Pettigrew's arse.

"Get me some tea," Severus said coldly after Pettigrew yelped in pain and jumped several paces away from Severus.

"Oi, there's no need to do that," the rat-toothed creature spluttered, rubbing his behind.

"You'll do what I say and not. Talk. back," Severus whispered, stalking menacingly toward Pettigrew. He thrust his wand out, muttered "Crucio!" and Pettigrew shuddered with pain till he vomited.

"Clean that up," Severus ordered, putting his wand away. "Without magic, if you please," he added, pocketing Pettigrew's own wand too. "I'm going for a walk, and my tea had better be ready when I return."

As the miserable creature sobbed and did what he was told, Severus stepped out of the house and strode down the cracked sidewalk, thinking I have no mercy! I have no mercy! When a drunken neighbor made a comment at him about "Sech black robes, 'n in this 'eat!" Severus aimed his wand, and the man shivered to the ground in agony. Severus knew he was turning into his father, but at this point, he didn't care.

At the playground, someone had tied up the swings to the bar overhead, so that no one could use them now. The soft grass had been paved over, and over that, someone had spray-painted "Fuck you" in a glaring pink. Like the riverbank, there was litter everywhere: bottle caps, aluminum cans, candy wrappers, condoms. Down the street, the corner store he used to filch from had closed, and beyond that, the tiny shop where he'd once eaten chocolate ice cream was now a liquor store.

Beyond that still, stood a brick house, its windows X'd over with plywood, its yard dead. Where there had once been the ringing sound of girls' laughter on the porch, there was now nothing but the echo of desolation.

Every single vestige of his life had withered and died like the grass beside the river. His parents, including his miserable father, had passed on years ago. His mentorship-if that's what it was-with his favorite student, Draco Malfoy, seemed over. And the one person in perhaps all the world besides Lily whom Severus had considered a friend was now dead too, and by his hands. All he had left was the wretched house of his parents, and in it, the animal who had betrayed Lily to her death.

He supposed it was some sort of grim joke on Voldemort's part that he should have Pettigrew serve Severus of all people. As the Dark Lord wasn't stupid, he must have known how Severus would feel it, and perhaps had anticipated that Severus would torture the rat-faced wretch. But perhaps not; Severus doubted that Voldemort had the imagination to guess that Severus could still care for Lily, after all this time. After all, it was not in the Dark Lord's nature to understand love, much less to believe in it. Or so Dumbledore had always assured him.

Dumbledore. Something within Severus seemed to shrivel at the thought of the man, and he found himself sitting down on the Evans' old porch, leaning his spine against the rough brick.

Like so many other things in Severus's life, his feelings about Dumbledore were ambivalent, to say the least. He still had not gotten over the shock that Dumbledore had prepared the Potter boy to be slaughtered like a pig at the proper time-and that he expected Severus to be the one who led him to the chopping block! Certainly, Potter was not Severus's favorite person, but even Severus had no desire to see a hair on his head hurt! Not after all these years of protecting him. Not after he'd made a vow to Lily's memory to do so. But it would seem he was doomed to fail Lily again, after all.

Severus sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, then reached into a pocket in his robes.

It was foolish of him to carry it around with him-what if someone found it?-but he pulled out a faded photograph, torn at one edge, of an extraordinarily beautiful woman, her hair shimmering like fire as she waved merrily from the page. He pressed his lips to it, then held it against his heart.

Lily, my love, he thought to himself as he sat amid the ruins of her childhood home. Forgive me.

"Check, I think, Severus," Dumbledore whispered, his blackened hand trembling as it pushed his knight toward Severus's king.

Severus's eyes followed the trajectory of the withered hand, then pushed his own knight in the other direction.

"Severus," Dumbledore said severely. "You don't intend to cheat yourself, do you?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

But Dumbledore chuckled softly, said "Ah, Severus. I appreciate the gesture, all the same."

"Hmph."

However, Dumbledore stared quietly at the board for a long time, before saying at last "The time grows near. Any day now, Draco will make his move."

"I know," Severus whispered in reply.

"Tomorrow, Harry Potter and I must go somewhere. It is of no concern of yours what we are to do. However, when I return, it is likely that Draco will take advantage of my weakness. You must be ready, Severus."

"I know," Severus repeated, clenching his fists.

"Then it is time that I told you something. The last thing."

Severus glanced up, puzzled. Dumbledore shook his head, then he leaned forward, took Severus's hand.

"I see now, why she loved you so," Dumbledore said quietly. "And I'm sorry that I hadn't done more for you, when you were a boy. As is almost always the case, the Lady is the wisest of us all. Forgive me, Severus."

What could Severus do? Severus returned Albus's grip, hoping that the gesture was enough; he wasn't equal to forming words.

"She knew, you know," Dumbledore whispered after he let go Severus's hand. "She knew it was you, who had warned me about Voldemort's intent to murder her."

Severus sat bolt upright, gaped blindly at Dumbledore.

"Oh, I dissembled, naturally," Albus said, shaking his head with a faint smile. "I wanted to protect you, you see. But Severus-like you, she had an uncanny ability to read minds, even untrained. She saw right through me. 'It was him, wasn't it,' she said. 'Who?' I asked. 'Him,' she replied. 'He's the one who told you. Severus.' "

Severus closed his eyes, put his hand over his forehead. "Stop," he whispered.

Albus slowly rose to his feet, and ambled toward the Pensieve. When Albus put the tip of his wand to his temple, Severus pleaded "No." But Albus ignored him, and extracted a silvery thread of memory, which he deposited into the Pensieve.

Despite himself, Severus went up to the Pensieve, gazed down at it with an icy fear. Nevertheless, Albus took Severus's arm, and together they flew down.

Immediately, Severus was in a house he'd last seen partially destroyed, in a parlor brightly appointed, with book-lined walls and vases of old-fashioned roses. But he forgot about all this when he saw, standing by the window, still so beautiful it stunned him breathless, her.

"Why do you think this?" a slightly younger Albus was asking her as she blinked her eyes and gazed out the window to the autumn-turned garden.

"Because who else would know Voldemort's plans? Who else would want to protect me?" she whispered, folding her arms over her chest.

"It's not within my power to reveal the messenger," Albus replied dryly.

She nodded, wiped her eyes.

"You have chosen your secret-keeper, I take it?" Albus asked then, as he made for the door. "I trust it is Sirius?"

"Yes."

"Very well then."

But as Albus reached for the doorknob, Lily suddenly rushed to him, and, dropping her hand on his shoulder, whispered "Please, Albus. Please. If something should happen...if something should happen to me...Please, take care of Severus. But never let him know, for he is so proud."

"Is this forgiveness, Lily?" Albus asked quietly. He stared into her eyes a long time, and she returned the gaze steadily.

"Don't tell James," Lily said at last, her eyes glimmering. "He won't understand. He never could."

"You have my word. Goodbye, my dear," Albus said, exiting the door as the sound of an infant's cry carried to them from a distant room.

And then, they were back in Dumbledore's chambers, and Severus stumbled to the floor, his arms over his head.

"'If something should happen'," Severus mocked bitterly through his tears. "'If something should happen', she said! I failed, Albus! I failed her!"

"I was afraid you'd react this way," Albus said sadly. "Which is why I never let you know before."

"Why now," Severus asked with venom.

"Because soon, you will have to travel this dark path without me," Albus said heavily. "And you must know...you must know that she had forgiven you."

"I didn't deserve her forgiveness," Severus hissed, clenching his fingers into his brow. "I won't deserve it, if what you've planned for her son comes to pass!"

"It is not up to you to decide whether you're worthy of forgiveness, Severus," Albus replied. And with a gesture of blessing, he moved away, leaving Severus alone in the Headmaster's chambers.

It was true. He had nothing left-not Lily, not Albus, not even his own dignity, or honor. All the world believed he had betrayed Dumbledore, that he was a turncoat and a murderer. He had nothing except a promise to she who, in the end, had forgiven him, but whom he had failed, anyway. There was no forgiveness, for him.

Dumbledore had been there for Severus during the first fresh waves of grief over Lily. But who is here now for Severus as he mourns the death of his last friend? Who could even know that he did grieve?

It was not only the Muggle world that had darkened. The Wizarding world had fallen into Voldemort's hands, and the one thing left for Severus to do was to keep Potter safe until Voldemort killed him. And somehow, Severus was to let Potter know all this before the end. Severus made a face, his old impatience toward Dumbledore returning. Last time he saw Potter, the boy was filled with such a mighty hatred for Severus, it took Severus's breath away. Understandable, of course, but certainly a difficulty that Severus would have to navigate in order to let Potter know what he needed to know, at the exact right time, whenever that was. And even if Severus managed to tell Potter these things, who is to say the boy would believe him?

Well. Potter knew what a Pensieve was, anyway. There was always that method. Dangerous, perhaps, for it meant having to carry around certain memories at the ready, which meant they could also be apprehended by Voldemort if he should penetrate Severus's Occlumency. Well, Severus cannot let him, that's all. It shouldn't be too difficult, at any rate. Severus's soul was as dead as the grass beside the river, as empty as this house. Even his ancient hatred towards Potters Senior and Junior had fainted into a mere irritation. Truly, Voldemort might as well perform Legitimens on a corpse.

Severus kissed the photograph once more before putting it into his pocket again. Then he stood up from the porch, and for the last time, gazed at the house, remembering how it used to be, and marveling that the only survivor among its former inhabitants was that terrible sister.

Any passer-by might have wondered at the strange-looking man in the strange-looking, heavy black robes standing on the porch of an abandoned house. Then again, this would hardly be the oddest sight to be seen, in notorious and noxious Spinner's End.