Chapter 45

Sow and So Shall You Reap

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his office staring at a blank piece of parchment, in stark juxtaposition to the clamor ringing around his office. The portraits lining his office walls were shouting amongst each other, his fireplace flashed green in constant intervals and owls continued to sweep in through an open window, two at a time, dropping letters all over the floor.

Dumbledore gave the parchment one last look and then scribbled four simple words in large capital letters. He calmly folded the paper into perfectly measured thirds and placed it inside a scarlet red envelope. He then attached the message to an excited owl, whispered – 4 Privet Drive – and gave the furry ball a reassuring pat on the head. The bird gave a squeak of delight and zoomed out of the open window just as the office door banged open and Minerva McGonagall rushed in, with Severus Snape doggedly at her heels.

"Albus, I've found him! He was perched up at his favorite hideaway."

"Thank you Minerva, now if I could ask you to rouse the rest of the Order."

"At once," McGonagall breathed and swept soundlessly from the room.

Snape stared in shock at the all the commotion and then fastened his gaze on the famous Headmaster. "What's going on? He's been thrown out? I hadn't heard a whisper of any such attack from my…friends."

"I fear that we have more enemies that only the servants of Lord Voldemort. Fear and mistrust are also worthy adversaries to our cause."

"So who's behind such a reckless attack?"

"I've some ideas, but now is not the time for such questions. I must, once again, ask you for a favor."

"What is it now?"

"I'm afraid the time has come for me to take a step back from the boy…and I want you to take my place."

"I don't understand, step back?"

"The connection between Harry and the Dark Lord has been growing since this summer and I believe that it will continue to do so, no matter what precautions we take."

"Why are they connected? I still don't understand."

"I believe that among Harry's many gifts is a unique ability – an ability to detect the Dark Lord's presence, even when he's disguised, to know that he's feeling at any particular moment, to even see into his mind. I believe that this ability will only become more pronounced in the future and it is for this reason that I must keep my distance from the child."

"I still don't…"

"I believe that the Dark Lord will eventually discover this connection for himself and try to burrow into Harry's mind, to control him from within and attempt to use him as a weapon. I must therefore keep my distance and not provide any further incentive. Severus, I want you to become the boy's teacher."

Snape gave Dumbledore an incredulous look and replied with a sardonic smile, "I already am his teacher."

Dumbledore pushed himself up from his desk and stood beside the open window, a benevolent God looking down on his rightful domain. He answered Snape with a faraway look in his blue eyes, "I want you to become a true mentor to the boy, to give him the strength and skills to protect his most precious gift…his mind. I want you to teach your most exceptional and powerful talent, that which comes so easy to you."

"He lacks the discipline and fortitude to master the mysteries of the human mind."

"Harry is stronger than you know. He has to be."

Nymphadora Tonks sat quietly at a heavily laden dinner table, quite pleased with herself. A few years ago she had been a clumsy teenager with mediocre school markets and not too many bright prospects for her future, yet now here she was, a trained Auror and a newly minted member of the Order of the Phoenix. She wiggled her nose in delight and her short, spiky hair changed from a vivid pink hue to a dark red color.

Sitting around the dinner table with Tonks were Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Sirius Black, Arthur Weasley, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones and Albus Dumbledore – a large contingent of the Order of the Phoenix were meeting at their headquarters.

No one was speaking and everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Scrumptious food and sweet mead lay upon the table – meat bolognese, stuffed Cornish hen, smashed potatoes with cheese, goose stuffed with apples, sliced pork sandwiches and strawberry shortcake – yet the culinary feast lay untouched. The air was heavy with worry and Tonks seemed to be the only bright presence in the room.

A door creaked open in the distance and floorboards moaned as footsteps approached the assembled group. A few moments later a darkly robed figure with a stringy frame entered the room, with a red hood and a green mask that resembled a smiling skull. Everyone in the room watched as the figure slowly reached into his robes, withdrew a long, wooden wand and held it to his mask. The skull melted away and in its place there appeared a dark, greasy mop of hair and prominent nose – Severus Snape had come calling.

Snape stared out at the sea of faces and felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. He swallowed down a lump that had spring up in his throat and fought to control his emotions. Each look from the crowd held a mixture of disgust, loathing and scorn – the ungrateful bastards.

The intensity of meeting with the Dark Lord and his minions and then having to race back to Grimmauld Place and deliver a report to openly hostile wizards and witches was enough to break any man. There was no respite for Snape as he bounced from enemy to enemy, everyone's personal lap dog. He stole a glance at Dumbledore and steeled himself for the coming onslaught.

"Where have you been? We've been waiting for hours!"

Snape glanced in the direction of his lifelong enemy, and then turned to address the other side of the table. "Sorry to have disturbed your precious sleep, but some of us aren't beholden to cleaning schedules."

Sirius started to fire back, but held his tongue as Dumbledore raised his hand. "Please continue Severus."

"As far as I can tell, the Dark Lord…"

"Lord Voldemort you mean!"

Snape's left arm gave an involuntary twitch, but other than that he showed no sign that he had heard the interruption, "…and his Death Eaters had no role in the Dementor attack or the subsequent expulsion hearing. While it's true there are dark servants within the Ministry, the Dark Lord has yet to penetrate Fudge's inner circle."

"I can support Severus' claims on that front," said Arthur. "No one close to the Minister seems to be under the hold of an Imperius spell."

"I think this bizarre behavior is borne from Fudge's fear of losing his office and the associated political support", interjected Shacklebolt.

At once the room filled with voices, with Order members all opining on everything from Fudge's bedroom habits to the likelihood the Minister himself was under a curse. Snape stepped back into shadows and caught Dumbledore's eye, forging a connection.

"The Minister is a fat, slothful fool, but he's no dark servant," thought Snape.

Dumbledore's voice responded in Snape's head. "The Minister seems to fear me more than the Dark Lord himself."

"Lucius believes that Fudge can be manipulated through his fear of losing his position as Minister, but I'm not privy to those plans. I've been tasked with helping to recruit elder students at Hogwarts to the dark cause."

"I trust you'll make no real progress on that front."

"I swear that the Dementor attack did not come from within the dark circle."

"Then that only leaves one conclusion…"

"Yes?"

"We'll have to fight this war on two fronts, we can no longer count the Ministry itself as a friend."

"I've had enough tonight, I want to go home Dumbledore."

"Take your leave Severus, I'll relay what you've said."

"Warn Kingsley that he's about to be targeted for recruitment."

"Thank you once again for…", but before Dumbledore could express his gratitude Snape had quietly melted into the hallway. Dumbledore looked out across the table, dissenting opinions still flying about the air. It seemed everyone had something to say on the topic of Cornelius Fudge, everyone except the young one – Tonks only had eyes for the raggedy man sitting next to her.

Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile as he began to rise from his seat and call for order.

Snape crossed the threshold of the glum entrance to his house on Spinner's End, and instinctively looked towards the bottom bannister of the house stairs, where dark spot still clouded the wood. The dilapidated house held many horrible memories for him, but it still held a dear place in his heart. Whatever terrors he had been subjected to as a boy, they were extinguished now and one always had a longing for their childhood home.

Snape shrugged out of his damp traveling cloak and left it in a dirty clump by the front door as he headed for the kitchen. He half-heartedly made himself a cheese and caviar sandwich and poured himself a tall glass of red cabernet. He settled into a worn chair next to his kitchen table and stared blankly at the lonely meal.

Snape's pupils were bloodshot and the circles under his eyes had grown bigger as of late. Shuttling to and fro sudden Death Eater and Order meetings, constantly watching over his shoulder, terrified that his treachery may be uncovered at any moment – there was never a moment's peace.

He lived each day as if a heavy anvil hung over his head by a thin wire, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Snape reached a shaking hand into his pocket and removed a small glass vial. He poured a viscous green liquid into his wine glass and watch as sweet smelling steam lazily drifted up from the cup.

He swirled the glass around and watched the red and green slowly mix and envelop together, finally taking a long swallow and leaning back in his chair. He balanced on the chair legs and closed his eyes as the potion coursed through him.

"Dependent on drugs to get you through the day?"

Snape's eyes snapped opened in fright at the loud voice that sounded from within his own kitchen. He began to lose his balance as he tilted on the back of his chair legs, wildly reaching his arms out to grasp onto anything, but there was only air for him to catch. The Dark Lord materialized out of thin air in front of him and Snape stared in shock at a gleaming white skull as he fell backwards and slammed his head into the kitchen linoleum.

Vigorously rubbing the back of his head, Snape shook the blinking stars from his eyes and scrambled up to one knee, bowing before his lord.

"I need my soldiers to be of clear mind and body, not swimming in a haze of narcotics."

"My Lord, how did you…yes my Lord, I only take them as a precautionary measure."

"Do not lie to me!"

Snape kept his head bowed, too frightened to look up. He had always thought of his home as a protected sanctuary, a refuge, a place where no one would dare, or care, to visit. The one place he could just be himself, with no walls or masks or pretense. He had believed his magical protections were secure, his enchantments impenetrable…how naïve he was.

"What did the old fool have to say?"

"He believed what I fed him. He thinks we are responsible for the attack on the boy and that You have the power to bend the Dementors to your will."

"So even he does not know who sent them?"

"No, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort did not speak for so long that Snape thought perhaps he had been left alone, yet he dared not look up. He stared at a crack in the floor so hard his eyes began to water and a spasm grabbed ahold of his neck. Just as the silence grew to an unbearable crescendo the Dark Lord spoke.

"Rise."

"Yes, my lord."

"You've given me no cause to doubt you Severus, and yet there are some of your brothers and sisters who whisper doubts about your fealty."

"Jealousy spawns lies my Lord"

"Perhaps another tour of your mind is required to satisfy my curiosity?"

Snape looked into the dark sunken pits of Lord Voldemort's scarlet eyes. Another rape of his mind was almost too much for him to bear, he did not know if he possessed the strength to again go through the mind interrogation he had suffered in that forlorn graveyard earlier that summer. Snape was not a religious man, but he prayed to any God that may have been listening to spare him.

Lord Voldemort stared impassively at the weary man and then sneered, or maybe it was a smile. A pink tongue flicked out and Lord Voldemort licked his lips, reminding Snape of a wolf just before biting into his meal.

"If that is what is needed. Anything, my Lord."

"Lord Voldemort is not petty or without mercy Severus, you of all people should know that. You've hoodwinked the old fool and informed me of the Order's movements all summer, valuable information indeed."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tonight I come not to take, but to give."

"I only live to serve."

"You do not wish to receive my gift."

"I…I do, my Lord."

"Enjoy yourself. And come to me next week before the opening school feast."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And do away with these juvenile enchantments. All that is yours is mine, don't forget."

Crack! Lord Voldemort vanished in twirl of his robes. Snape had believed he had made it impossible for anyone, even himself, to apparate within his house, but it seemed there was nothing even a weakened Lord Voldemort could not do.

Snape looked around the kitchen, but could only find his pathetic meal; there was no gift. He breathed a sigh of relief and sent his thanks to the heavens that he had escaped so easily.

Snape finished the rest of the sedative laced wine and took a small bite of his sandwich. His appetite was never that large, but of late he eschewed food and only had a taste for liquor and tranquillizers.

He slowly made his way up his rickety stairs and to his bedroom on the second floor. He gently closed his bedroom door and lifted his robe over his head, tossing it into a corner. He then eyed his naked chest in a full length mirror that hung from the inside of his closet door.

His pale skin stretched tight over his rail thin body, he could make out every rib and bone on his face. His eyes traced old scars that lined his shoulders and stomach, he ran one finger across his chest and felt every cut he had ever taken. Physical appearance had never meant much to Snape, but even he could see how pitiful his figure had become.

Movement flashed behind him in the mirror and he instinctively dove towards his discarded robe in the corner. When he spring to his feet, his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and pointed at a woman standing quietly by his bed. She looked neither scared nor aggressive, neither confused nor worried – instead she wore a look as though it was the most normal thing in the world for her to be standing there.

Snape was dumbfounded, no one but him had ever been in his bedroom, and he felt the blood rush to his face, red blotches color his neck and cheeks. Shame permeated throughout his body, shame at his bent posture, his wretchedly skinny frame and threadbare furnishings of his bedroom.

Snape became acutely aware of the faded and peeling bedroom wallpaper, the scuffed vanity and mirror streaked with grime hanging behind him. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not changed the sheets on his bed in months and he became aware of a moldy smell in the air that he had never noticed before.

He wanted to yell at this woman, to let the anger flow through him and scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to throw things at her, smash her pretty little face. Get away from me! You don't belong here! Leave my house!

Instead, Snape lowered his wand stared at the beautiful creature standing before him. Her skin was as stark white as his, but where his would be considered pale, hers would most certainly be considered silky. She had luscious lips, a perfect nose and wavy, dirty blonde hair. He slender fingers ended perfectly manicured nails, dimples lined her cheeks and her green robe hugged her lithe figure in all the right places.

She began to undo the laces on her robe and slowly pulled it over her head. Underneath she was as naked as the day she was born, with no hint of awkwardness or embarrassment. The gorgeous woman stepped out of the shadows and slowly got under the covers of Snape's bed.

She then quietly stared at Snape, not with revulsion or disgust, but with a curiosity that bore no ill will.

She stared at Snape with a practiced patience and heartfelt interest.

She stared at Snape with big, dark, deep emerald eyes and waited for the wounded animal to come crawling to her.