Disclaimer: The last line is a direct quote from Dickens.

Note: Argh! Once again a very long time passes between updates. What's new? Anyway, I hope you enjoy today's chapters.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

A Far Better Thing

Severus didn't know what to think as he felt the momentary burn of the mark summoning him to the Dark Lord's side. If he was going to be brutally honest with himself (and if you weren't honest with yourself at the very end then when could you be?) then he was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his life. Oh yes, he accepted that death was always going to be a virtual inevitability, but now that the moment had arrived, he would admit to feeling trepidation at what was to come. Severus had often wondered about how his time in the Dark Lord's employ would end; quickly and painlessly or with him begging on his knees for death. Severus gave a grim smile. It was not in the Dark Lord's nature to be merciful, and Severus himself was far too proud to beg.

There was no use in putting it off; that would surely make matters far worse, Severus thought as he walked through the head's office towards the only unblocked fireplace in the building. Trying to get through the barricaded doors would have taken too much time and engendered too much attention. All he needed to do was get outside the boundaries and then he would apparate. He knew how to bypass the warding spells that Minerva would have put in place to guard her grate; the journey would still take but a matter of moments.

Minerva's office was empty, of course it was: she was on her way to the urgent staff meeting that she had called – in the Room of Requirement of all places – and that he was meant to be part of. As he located the store of Floo powder, Severus thought he could hear running footsteps getting closer and closer, and as he stepped into the fireplace, he could divine that they were coming up the stairs and that they were Minerva's.

"No, Severus, there…"

But the rest of the message was lost to the roar of the green flames, and Severus knew that there was no going back now. He barely saw his receiving fireplace before he disapparated away to the Manor. On arriving at the destination, having made his way into the foreboding and seemingly empty house, he felt two pairs of strong hands take an arm each, swing him around and bundle him through a door into complete darkness. Completely disorientated, he looked around blindly, trying to gather his bearings. Where was he? In the cellar? Who had grabbed him? He opened his mouth to say something, although he was not at that moment completely sure what would be appropriate, when the owner of one of the pairs of hands clapped one over his mouth.

"Ssh!"

Someone cast the spell for light and a dim glow illuminated Walden's face. The unknown hands let him go and Severus turned round to see Lucius standing behind him.

"We don't have much time," whispered Walden. "Come on."

His colleague led the way further into the small chamber, which Severus was still having trouble identifying.

"Is this a broom cupboard?" he hissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Lucius. "This is not a broom cupboard."

Severus raised an eyebrow on seeing a mop propped against one wall but said nothing.

"This is the magical core of the house," said Lucius. They appeared to have come as far as they could go by this point and Walden waved his wand to ignite the candles dotted around on the various shelves. The gloom slightly lightened, Severus saw mismatched furniture stacked up in a space far too small for it, and a half-bottle of whiskey standing on one side. It was evident that Lucius and Walden had hidden in here before.

"We thought you could use a last snifter," said Walden drily as Lucius poured.

"But the Dark Lord," Severus began, trying not to let his confusion show.

"He can wait," said Walden. "I don't speak for my colleague, but I for one am now past the point of caring."

"I've been past the point of caring for a long time now," affirmed Lucius. He handed Severus a glass. "To the future, safe in the knowledge that we don't have much of it left."

Severus only recognised the potion when the metallic aftertaste came through the burn of the whiskey at the back of his throat. He looked at his comrades.

"Lucius, Walden, what have you done?" he asked.

"Don't blame me, it was his idea," said Walden, pointing to Lucius. "I'm just aiding in the execution."

"We're saving your skin," said Lucius wryly. "You can thank me later."

"But…" Severus began, fighting the effects of the potion.

"I've borrowed too much time already," said Lucius, "and you of all people know it more than most. I think that, given its rapidly oncoming inevitability, I would like to meet my demise on my own terms, and these are my terms. Call it my compensation to you for the last two years of keeping me, Ciss and Draco alive." He paused. "It's a far better thing I do now than I have ever done. Or something along those lines."

"Lucius, you do realise that sentence is regarded by muggles, however misguidedly, as having been written by one of their greatest authors of all time?"

"Oh, the depths I have sunk to. I must be going mad. Quickly, Walden, we'd best get on with things before I come to my senses."

Severus could neither fight his impending unconsciousness nor do anything to prevent what was coming next. Walden gently levered his frame into the nearest of the clashing chairs and, not quite as gently, pulled a few strands of hair from his scalp. As his eyes closed, he could just make out a bottle of an infamously familiar silvery potion being produced from one of Walden's many pockets.

X

When Severus woke once more, it took him a little while to remember exactly what had happened thanks to the potion. As the grogginess reduced and his head cleared again, the events of the evening became vivid in his mind and he sat straight upright in the chair where he had been slumped. Of all the idiotic things to do, of all the moments to discover Dickens…

Severus moved towards the door of the cupboard-cum-room and tried to gauge how long he had been unconscious. Perhaps there was still time to change the outcome of the situation, but Severus didn't have the faintest hint of a plan in his head. Knowing Lucius's penchant for excess, however, his friend had probably given him enough to knock him out for far longer than necessary. Severus shook his head to rid himself of the last dregs of lethargy and closed his fingers around the door handle, pausing to gather his courage before he opened it. Before fate had taken a sudden, swerving detour from the course that he had predetermined for himself, Severus had been scared, yes, but he had known that the end was coming and he'd accepted it. Now though, he had absolutely no idea what awaited him on the other side of the door. Would he merely be stepping as a ghost into an empty house, or would he simply meet his doom later than he had anticipated, Lucius's sacrifice having been in vain? There was nothing to be gained from standing in the dark like a coward, he told himself, and he opened the door.

The hallway was silent and empty, the darkness all-encompassing and broken only by the flickering light coming from under the drawing room door. Severus moved through the shadows, reaching for his wand. He couldn't hear anything through the heavy wood, and he pushed it open a fraction.

Severus was quite certain that he had never seen so much blood in all his time with the Dark Lord; he had evidently used a method other than the killing curse and Severus's mind alighted on Nagini's ruthless fangs and the potent venom that refused to allow the wounds she caused to close. The dark stain spread over the rug and floorboards, and in the middle of it all was Narcissa. She was curled up in one of the armchairs, its back mostly hiding her from Severus's view.

"You should get back to the school," she said, without turning to look at him. Her voice sounded dull, dead, but as if there was more to be said. After a moment's silence she spoke again. "Have you any idea how hard it was to let him go? To stand back and let him come in here to meet his death in your place?" She glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze to the middle distance; her eyes were dry but scarlet and swollen.

"The time came where I couldn't cry anymore," she said flatly. "There wasn't any point to it. Tears won't bring him back."

Severus let the door swing open fully and took a step forward, unsure of what to say. He felt honour-bound to offer the new widow some sort of consolation, but he was horribly aware of intruding upon a private grief. His eyes alighted on the wineglasses on the mantelpiece, one drained and the other untouched.

"They toasted their victory over you," Narcissa explained, having obviously followed his eyeline. "Bellatrix and him. Drinking over my husband's dead body. You should get back to the school," she repeated. "They left about five minutes ago to meet the others at the gates, but there's unease in the ranks and no set plan of attack at the moment, so that should buy you some time before battle begins. It goes without saying that you should take the Floo rather than apparate."

"Narcissa, I…"

"I don't blame you, Severus," interrupted Narcissa, "just promise me that it will not all be in vain. You have got to defend the school. You have got to win this interminable war. Don't let this come to nothing."

"I promise, Narcissa. And… thank you."

She didn't reply, hugging her knees closer into her chest and resting her head on them. Severus was on the point of leaving the room and leaving Narcissa to mourn in peace when she spoke once more.

"Look out for Draco if you can. Please."

"Of course."

There was nothing more to be said, not in that moment, although they would without doubt revisit this point in the future and discuss it when the emotions were not so raw. Provided, of course, that there was a future in which to return to the past once this night, a night in which everything seemed to be happening at once with alarming speed and unpredictability, was over. Severus made his way briskly to the sitting room on the floor above, going through the preliminaries of Floo travel automatically, his mind far from his task.

"Hogwarts castle, head's office," he said as he stepped into the green flames. As he hurtled through the fireplace network towards his destination, he thought of the momentous and unknown task that Narcissa had laid at his feet. Win the war. Don't let everything go to waste. In effect, he was being instructed to survive, and having been given this unexpected second chance at life, that was exactly what Severus planned on doing.

Minerva's office was deserted, even more so than usual since some of the portraits seemed to have abandoned their frames. It was a mark of the castle's desperate times when even the portraits were choosing to flee. One obvious figure remained, however, the one mounted behind the desk.

"Severus, you have no idea how glad we all are to see you alive," said Dumbledore. "The time is almost upon us, but all is not lost. You need to go to the Room of Requirement; there's not a moment to lose."

"Professor, what is going on?" he asked, and at last, after everything that had happened in the between time, Severus could hear clearly in his head the words that Minerva had spoken before he had vanished from earshot into the fireplace.

No, Severus, there is another way.

"We are defending Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat and moving through the picture frames towards the door and indicating for Severus to follow him. "I shall explain on the way."

As they hurried towards the Room of Requirement with Dumbledore's disjointed explanation catching Severus's ears in short bursts as he passed between frames, the former potions master was becoming ever more incredulous. But knitting patterns aside, the idea of a final defence of Hogwarts stirred something in his chest.

"Alas, I can go no further," said Dumbledore as they reached the picture of the dancing trolls; the older man seemed winded from their brisk pace through the castle despite his form being but paint and magic. "Good luck, Severus, and good luck to the rest of the school."

Severus opened the door to the Room of Requirement. The Dark Lord was baying for blood at the gates but they would ensure that he would not receive it. They would defend the school. They would win the war. Severus would not let the sacrifice that had been made for him come to nothing.

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.

Note2: In case you hadn't already guessed from the quotage and my obsession with cryptic knitting patterns, I love 'A Tale of Two Cities'. It's the only full-length Dickens work I've read and I wept buckets at the end.

Note3: Why, for the love of top hats why, do I always kill off my favourite characters? (Seriously, being a favourite character of mine is a very hazardous occupation. Goodness only knows the number of times Inspector Javert has perished at my hands…) Enough of that, onwards!