As always, thank you patient readers. I hope you enjoy this chapter as we explore a bit more of the interior lives of our favorite pair. Leave a review and recommend to your reader friends.

Shout out to my betas, you know who you are...

DN

The assembled students of Hogwarts, leaning out open windows, crowding door frames, were stunned to silence as the Headmaster now walked toward the sweat lodge, as though seeing him dressed in anything other than his usual black frock coat and trousers wasn't enough for a single day.

"Crimony, Snape's going in, too," breathed Ron. "Looks like you were right, Hermione."

Hermione sniffed. "Professor Snape wouldn't have changed clothes without a good reason," she noted. "Obviously."

Hania had noted the aloofness in Snape's manner since he'd arrived, the way he seemed to be elsewhere, anywhere but where he was at any moment. Hunter's request, that Snape undergo a sweat to drive out a daemon, helped him make sense of this. If he'd had it for some time, he would have become accustomed to it, comfortable with the discomfort to a certain extent. The notion of separation, even from something evil, meant a great change. It would neither be gradual, nor easy. It would be a sudden life change. The longer he'd had the daemon as his companion, the less familiar a life without it would seem. Hania had driven out daemons before, some recent, some old. He was ready to do so again.

Lapu raised the smudging stick, the smoke drifting to the four directions, surrounding Snape, who drew in the essence of sage and cedar. Hania repeated the blessing, but in English now.

"May your hands be cleansed, that you create beautiful things.

May your feet be cleansed, that they may take you where you need to go.

May your heart be cleansed, that you may hear its messages clearly.

May your throat be cleansed, that you may speak rightly when words are needed.

May your eyes be cleansed, that you may see the signs and wonders of this world.

May this person and this space be washed cleaned by the smoke of these fragrant plants.

And may that same smoke carry our prayers spiraling to the heavens."

Snape remained still, but followed as Hania gestured to the opening in the lodge, Lapu coming behind, bringing in a fresh stone.

Snape collided with the wall of heat, feeling his eyes drying, his lips drying. The daemon stirring. Snape was pleased for the darkness, the only light from the glow of the hot stones.

Hania positioned himself on the ground and Snape followed suit. He began by explaining what they were doing, chanting, praying, giving thanks. By embracing good things, positive spirits and the energy from the heat and the earth, Snape would become an unpleasant vessel for the daemon. All three of them, Snape, Hania, and Lapu, would work together to drive the daemon out, then work to be sure it wouldn't come back. Severus remained silent, still, and stiff.

Hunter waited outside, worried, too depleted to pace as she itched to. Mansi and Lizzie stayed near, handing her towels. Hunter being silent was unusual and a cause of concern from her friends. Chowilawu brought her water again and again.

After a time, Lapu came out alone and retrieved more of the sacred water, then returned quickly. Hunter had difficulty reading him, an unsettling circumstance. As much of a burden as her sight frequently was, lacking it was worse, leaving her to fill in the missing information with the worst thoughts possible. He was overheating, but too stubborn to come out. He had insulted Lapu or worn out the patience of Hania. No thought was too far-fetched as her mind wandered restlessly to fill the gap left by not sensing Lapu's aura and knowing Severus's difficult personality.

Just as her thoughts swirled towards the worst, Hania emerged, his brow furrowed. Helped by Lizzie and Mansi, Hunter rose to speak with him, eager to hear what was going on.

"He won't give up the daemon, Kasa. He has Bound it to himself with magic. The daemon is ready to come out, wants to flee, but Professor Snape won't allow it. He knows why he is here, knows that you won't marry him until the daemon is out." Hania leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. "What kind of wizard is he? He will not pray or chant. He is disrespecting the ceremony. Perhaps he fears giving up the misery of the daemon he knows for a life with you that is unknown. What is he here for? Perhaps a message from you would help."

Lapu emerged and joined them, looking stony, sharing Hania's displeasure by the disrespect shown for the ceremony, by Snape's not giving himself over to it.

Hunter's heart fell. She'd heard her friends whispered remarks since their arrival, thinking she could not hear. Their questioning her choice in a husband, questioning her sanity. She, too, began to ask herself questions. The others question you, what do you really know of him. Perhaps he, too, disrespects your Magic, just like Ethinian and so many others before him. He's been testy and distant for days and never got rid of the daemon. "I'll take care of it my way," as though the Hopi way wasn't good enough. Answer for yourself. He is to be your husband. He may love you, but does he truly respect you? What do you know?

She stood silently for some time, looking out over the still waters of the Black Lake, turning over her thoughts. It had been so recently that she'd begun to know him truly. She needed to hold fast to that, to let that truth guide her, despite what she'd seen before and since. There was no clearer way to know someone. All those times she'd witnessed what seemed like deceit and chaos, he had a reason for his actions, always honorable. The sun shone warm on her face and the vibrations of the earth move through her feet.

She squared her shoulders. "I have no message for Severus. I don't know why he is doing what he's doing, but I know there is a reason, an honorable reason. If you can't yet trust him, trust me. He means no disrespect. Please continue to help drive out the daemon." She hoped her words delivered a confidence she was trying hard to believe in herself. Saying the words helped make it more so.

Hania nodded mutely, then gestured to Lapu to return.

She's either lost her mind or under some kind of spell, thought Lizzie. Sharing a glance with Mansi, it was clear she felt the same. How do you tell a friend her choice of husbands is foolish? Can you ever do that and still keep your friend? Can you not and watch someone you care about make such a big mistake?

Hunter sat down again, thanking Chowi for the water, when the screaming began. Lapu came out to retrieve another stone, then again to get another cup of water. Hania, too, emerged, asking for water for himself. He gestured for her to remain seated. Hunter now allowed herself true anxiety, as Hania was drenched in the aura of concern, something she'd never seen on him at any sweat.

"Severus is strong, but he still won't release the daemon. It is the daemon you hear screaming, not him," he said, finishing the cup and turning back to return.

Snape burst suddenly from the tent, running madly to the lakeside, tripping over stones, picking himself up and running further. At the water's edge he stood, ankle-deep, fumbling urgently in his pocket, which was clinging stubbornly closed from the sweat that soaked his clothes. In an instant, a slick black tentacle emerged from the water, wrapped around his ankle, and dragged him under. The Headmaster vanished, gone before anyone even had time to move.

"Severus!" Hunter screamed in horror.

The students and staff, faces jammed in every window and door, took a collective gasp. Harry tried desperately to run down the lawn, but the Age Line, well-cast by Flitwick, held fast. Helpless, he realized that he'd never heard anyone in all his time at Hogwarts ever express concern for Snape in the face of danger. Conversely, everyone seemed to regard his peril as a matter of justice served or entertainment. Until today. Now, expressions of terror for the plight of Snape took hold of every face, with tears welling in the faces of many.

All of the staff took off down the lawn at a run, wands drawn.

With no hesitation, Hunter found her strength and ran to the water, to the last place she'd seen him. She scanned the glassy surface for any sign of him, bubbles, ripples, anything. She found only a small bundle of green shoots in the shallow water. The others were shouting at her, coming nearer. They would be sure to hold her back, either physically or Magically. There wasn't a moment to lose. She scooped up the shoots he dropped, and dove in.

The Giant Squid had been watching, waiting, hoping, her appetite whetted since the incident earlier in the winter. The temptation of such a large treat was great. She'd been hunting closer and closer to shore than before, building her skills by plucking birds and turtles from the rocky, shallow edges when the opportunities presented themselves. She'd been circling endlessly, waiting for a bigger meal, knowing it would come sometime, if she were just patient enough. She'd almost had two back in February, but the coldness of the water prevented her from being her fastest, her strongest. Nevertheless, her curiosity and appetite were stimulated. The feet presented now were irresistible temptations. She'd snatched them as quickly as she could, the warmer waters giving her greater speed than before. Now a deep dive and a tight embrace until the meal stopped squirming, then tasty satisfaction. Perhaps even enough for her mate or children, too. But first, her own appetite needed to be satisfied. They could have the leftovers.

Dragging down the thrashing treat, she noted this one came with a bonus, two in one. Perhaps there would be a feast tonight. She wrapped her tentacles more strongly around the struggling creatures bound tightly to one another. He fought more than most, but it wouldn't last much longer. She could already taste him in the water. She switched tentacles, licking the suckers clean, savoring the flavor. One pulled free an arm and screamed "Relashio" in bubbly words and the two came apart. At last, he was still, ready to eat. The second, now freed from the first, continued to struggle. She had been patient this long. She would wait until this one, too, stopped struggling, then devour one and share the other.

Hunter was shocked by the cold of the water, the heat from the sweat lodge dissipating quickly. Coming up for breath, she brought to mind everything she'd ever learned about swimming and surviving in cold water as she filled her lungs, cast warming spells, then plunged beneath the surface once again, deaf to the cries from the shore.

She looked everywhere she could, systematically pacing in the water where she thought he'd gone down. How can I lose him now after fighting so hard for him? Is there only one squid? You haven't swum in years, your oxygen capacity is lessened. You have to take some of the gillyweed, or you are sure to lose him. She rose again, gasping and choking for air. Knowing how important it was to save enough for him, she took only a small swallow of the gillyweed, the foul taste making her choke again. At least she could now breathe beneath the water. She resumed her search, to no avail. How long will this small dose last? Where is he? Is it wearing off already?

You are too deep now, if it wears off you can't reach the surface. You can't see, the water is too dark. How will you find him? Your Magic isn't working well in the water. You need help. Her heart called out, "Help me, help me find him."

They came to her then, her ancestors, breathing life into her, spreading out through the darkness. Old, wrinkled, with white hair, and young. The young one, a girl with long braids, silently took her hand, pulling her even further down. I don't know if I can go further down, she thought. Can you live if you don't? the little girl asked. Come, follow me. I know the way. Further down she went, trying to control her breathing, to possibly extend the time of the gillyweed.

The inky darkness of the depths of the lake gave way to a vision of disaster. Severus, limp in the arms of a giant, swirling squid. Her tentacles seemed endless, filling every place Hunter could see, long enough to disappear in the darkness of the murky water. Her beak was mashing, still chewing whatever she'd been eating before him. Now she was guiding him towards her mouth. Hunter exploded with all the water hexes and spells she could remember, using every bit of determination she had. The water dampened their effect considerably, but she was able to distract the squid from the second course of her meal. Hunter swam up, then down, away, attempting to confuse and anger the squid. Now directly in, to Severus, cramming the gillyweed into his mouth as she blasted Relashio spells at the tentacles at close range.

They aren't working! It isn't good enough. You've failed again. You couldn't save Phillipus and you can't save him. But at least I won't have to live alone. The squid will see to that. I will go to my death beside my lover, knowing I tried my best.

Hunter pulled herself to regard her lover in the dark depths, his pale skin contrasting against the black skin of the squid and the sparse light of the deep water.

But, Janiss… What will become of her without you?

Then, there was yet a third one! The family would eat well tonight. The first had been tasty, greasy, smoky, and hot. A fermented flavor. The second had stopped squirming and the third would be an easy catch, just next to this one. She might only need to squeeze a bit more. This one wasn't swimming away, but swam directly into her tentacles, holding some kind of salad in her hands. She crammed the weeds into the other's mouth, then closed his mouth around it. He started moving again, blast him. She pulled both of them closer to her beak, no longer waiting. Further watery cries of "Relashio" from both the other two loosened her grip on them. There were other creatures in the water, pulling her tentacles apart in every direction, helping free her meal. She pulled the rest of her tentacles around, to grab what she could, but the new creature was strong, a fast swimmer, pulling them both upwards and away through the darkness. There would be no extras for her family today. She was satisfied with the first one, for now. Her mate would have to be satisfied with what he could capture himself and the little one was getting better at hunting every day. There would be other days.

Hunter swam, dragging Severus upwards, not knowing where the shore was, just wanting to be as far from this creature as quickly as possible. Once they reached the surface, she quickly oriented herself, slung an arm across his chest and cast a Strength spell to her legs. She began kicking mightily, speeding across the water. After a few kicks, Snape was able to regain his own breath and began to kick, as well, lightening her load. Spells from those on the shore began to reach them, further easing their swim, the water warming, their legs stronger, their breath easier. She released him, and they swam together, taking a breath with every stroke, until they had cast themselves completely onto the shore. Hands grasped arms as the crowd moved them quickly to blankets and towels on softer ground.

Cheers rang out from those on the shore and within the school as the Headmaster and Potions Mistress emerged from the waters together and swam back to the gathering at the sweat lodge. Lapu and Chowilawu each took one of Snape's arms and supported him to stand. They wrapped him tightly in a blanket sewn with eagles, knowing that any heat from the sweat lodge was long gone. Lizzie and Mansi did the same for Hunter, pulling her into an embrace, to warm both her body and her soul.

Professor McGonagall approached Hania with Professor Flitwick. "May we release the Age Line now? The students are very concerned for Dr. Hunter and the Headmaster."

Hania looked thoughtfully at Snape and Hunter. "Let's give this more time. It seems that he will recover, but the effects of a daemon removal are somewhat unpredictable." At his using the word "daemon," Minerva paled a bit and drew back, casting a shocked glance at Filius, who shook his head. They hadn't known. "Usually they go quite well, but Severus Snape is not an ordinary wizard and this was hardly an ordinary process."

Hunter accepted the warmth of the blanket and her friends, then turned from them. Severus was now seated on the ground, his head hung low as he continued his labored breathing. Lapu and Chowi retreated towards Hania and the fire. Hunter sat beside him. The others retreated.

As she sat with him, both of them still recovering from the watery ordeal, she began to ask questions, needing answers. "The daemon, you are free from it now?" He nodded, still exhausted. "Why did you do this? You were nearly killed. I was nearly killed! Hania and Lapu could have freed you, if you'd just let them." He made to reach for her hand, but instead, gestured back to the castle. At first she wondered if he meant to put on some kind of show for the students, to demonstrate to them how tough he was after appearing to be humiliated in his duel with Winder. Then she understood.

"You were protecting the students. If the daemon had escaped you, where would it have gone next? There is a whole school full of vulnerable souls." She didn't even need his nod to know it was true. He hadn't been willing to cast it out before, because it would have simply found another disaffected young person to haunt. He needed to be certain that it was destroyed completely. He'd intended to simply take gillyweed, then swim to the squid and turn the daemon over, but the squid itself had changed his plans, nearly taking him and her with the daemon. "The clothes, that's why you objected so much. You knew how your own pockets would release the gillyweed, but the cotton ones are more clingy." Her insistence that he wear them may nearly have cost him his life, with the pocket sticking shut at the critical moment. His plan had been to take the gillyweed and find the squid on his own time, but the squid had found him first, upending his plan. He planned to feed the daemon to the squid, then escape himself. He would have drawn on his full strength to escape, but couldn't breathe without the gillyweed.

Hunter gave silent thanks to her ancestors for their help in rescuing Severus from the danger she'd made worse and her from her own rescue attempt. Had she only had herself to draw on, they might not be here at all.

"We are ready now, Severus, you are free," she said, finding his hand. There would now be no further delays. They could marry after the end of the school year, as planned.

The silence was the most welcome part of the daemon having been cast out and devoured. Ever since Morgan's ultimatum, the daemon had become more noisy, more vicious, lambasting him constantly with ugly words and terrible visions, adding to those he conjured for himself. As the day drew closer that her friends would arrive and the sweat would take place, the constant ranting had become nearly intolerable, leaving him little ability to hear what was being said or even to taste his meals.

I'll always be here, Snivellus, always. A little sweating will make no difference to me, no more than snake venom or drowning did. I am as strong as you, so if I go, I'll take you with me.

He lamented that he couldn't share anything of his plans with Morgan, knowing the daemon would hear, as well. He had been doing his most difficult Occlumency for nearly two weeks, closing down the parts of his mind that constructed this plan and worked to execute it. Morgan was certainly unhappy with his distance during this time, and her friends likewise put off. She might be questioning her decision, but it couldn't be helped. The daemon had to be cast out without putting any students at risk.

Her friends all distrust you, as they should, if they know the truth about you. They will come between you, pull her away. And she will go. She's known them far longer than you. Some speak her language, know her history and culture, of which you are ignorant. You can't even read her letters without her help. Maybe she isn't telling you everything...

There would be work to be done to repair these poor first impressions. But the new silence within his mind was a revelation in itself. He still had his own thoughts, memories, and guilt to manage, but to have removed this constant amplification of all of his worst was a relief. From here, he might begin to be the husband that Morgan Hunter, Kasa, deserved.

The Hopi magic was powerful, the daemon, so strong for so long, struggling to resist it. He had been surprised by the power of the sweat lodge, of Hania and Lapu. The pull of the Magic had been difficult to resist, its rhythm and color so different from his own, nearly overcoming his own Binding Charm to release the daemon before he could execute the second part of the plan. What more could this Magic do?

Snape turned his head to face Morgan. The daemon was out, and she was ready for their marriage. She believed this was sufficient, and perhaps she was right. But he could do more than what was merely sufficient. Perhaps she believed the daemon was the source of all of his difficulties, of the shape of his personality, the one stumbling block to their happy marriage. He knew better. Certainly the daemon was no help, but there was more, far more, that she knew nothing of. He could do more to be the wizard she needed, not simply sufficient, but more. And Hania's powerful Magic might do something for him he could not do alone.

After a long gaze, he silently shook his head, then signaled to Hania, Chowilawu, and Lapu. They came forward slowly. Lapu regarded him skeptically. They lifted him once more, Chowi offering water. Snape took the cup, painted with designs like Morgan's stoneware cauldrons, in both hands and drank deeply. The water was cold, like the lake, but refreshing and energizing.

"Brothers," he said. "Can you purify me, make me ready to be the husband Morgan Hunter deserves?" Hania nodded. One on each side, holding him up, they guided him back towards the tent.

The heat set in again, but gentler this time. With no daemon screaming inside him, he enjoyed the warmth, driving back the chill of the water. The sacred water moved through him, carrying with it pain and hurt. The scent of the cedar and oak wood swirled with sage and sweetgrass. Visions came now, Hania walking beside him, guiding him through a forest. The path diverged. Hania said, "think of your earliest childhood memory, for this is where you began your formation."

He brought this memory clearly and readily to mind, for he had stored it carefully in his cabinet since first being introduced to the Pensieve. He was about 4 or perhaps 5 years old, bringing his mother a bouquet of flowers covered in butterflies. He snuck up behind her as she was making his lunch. She turned, a rare glint of sunlight from the window over the sink cascading over her shoulder. Her face changed from questioning, to delight, to wonder and pride. She asked where they came from. He was too small then to know better, so he simply told the truth; he picked the weeds outside, with a cluster of gnats, and changed them for her. He sees the pride glow in her face as she tells him what he is, what she is, that he will grow up and learn more about how to be a powerful wizard. That his special, different from the others. She gives him a quick demonstration by having all the dishes clean themselves. But he mustn't let his father know, for he is not Magical. It would upset him. Even at this young age, he already knew not to upset his father. Thus began his first deception, hiding any trace of being something other than an ordinary boy.

He found himself very skilled at deception, very motivated to avoid his father's temper. For two years, he and his mother shared their secret, she teaching him more and more, Father never the wiser. Their tiny little home was always spotlessly clean, meals delicious despite having very little money. But eventually even that dimwitted man suspected and beat the truth out of his mother, screaming about his being "a freak like you." He refused to have any more children with her, in case they, too, would be freaks like Severus. Severus cowered on the other side of the thin wall, hearing every smack, every word, as she begged him not to leave them. He wondered why they shouldn't leave; surely his mother could make a living doing Magical things. Lots of kids in his neighborhood only had a mother. But she believed in Magical marriage, forever, even to a Muggle, even if she'd chosen wrongly.

Despite Severus's efforts to stay out of his father's way, Tobias Snape found every imaginable reason to beat him. No infraction was too small, no tiny show of disrespect ever overlooked. His mother refused to teach him any further Magic, especially curses, so he was forced to invent them, his first spell development. They were weak, usually just causing him to spill his drink a bit too easily or smash his toe into a table leg. Their home, once modest but tidy, now slipped into disorder and filth, his mother now distant and withdrawn, unwilling to use the Magic in herself for fear of Tobias's wrath. Severus longed for the day when he would become strong enough to take his true revenge. His father was as thrilled as he was when he received his letter from Hogwarts, making no effort to hide his pleasure to be rid of him for most of the year. He was so pleased to leave himself, he was confused by his mother's tears.

Quickly he learned of the penalty for underage Magic and the risk of expulsion from Hogwarts, having shown his housemates all the curses he knew, enjoying the admiration from people who were like him. He invested so much time and effort into jinxes, hexes, and curses, learning all that anyone else knew and continuing to create his own, their effects growing more damaging by the season, just waiting for the opportunity to wield them again his father. He utterly despised the man, so much so that he destroyed every mirror he had and every mirror in his dorm room, so as to never see Tobias Snape's face looking back at him.

Hania's resonant voice broke through his thoughts. "Choose one path, Severus. You may choose the warm memory or the others, but you must choose, only one."

One path had flowers, butterflies, sunlight, all the helpful side of Magic to make life better. The other, switches for beatings and shattered trees from mis-aimed hexes. He chose the flowers, feeling the warmth of his mother's embrace as he did so.

"We all have good memories and bad from growing up, but we make a choice every day which the emulate, which to amplify. We are passive vessels to be filled as children, but childhood is now over. Every person has good and bad within. You choose your path yourself by deciding which pieces will dominate. Here is another split on the path. Think of your school days. Remember your best and your worst memories, then choose."

Snape's worst memory, the events leading up to his calling Lily a Mudblood, were easy to recall, his having stewed on those for decades. The best? Far more difficult, for there were so many more bad days. Perhaps it was when he got top marks on his Potions N.E.W.T. Horace Slughorn had been impressed, as had Dumbledore, though his thoughts at the time had been obscured by his plans to practice as poison-maker for the Death Eaters by then. Slughorn had made some suggestions about apprenticeships, but he had wanted to start earning money and influence right away and had offers waiting based on his student potions, regularly diverted from Slughorn after having been graded. Hogsmeade weekends had been quite profitable for him. His memory of getting better marks than Potter, Black, or Lupin on the Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. also gave him smug satisfaction, though this was tempered by the question of why that mattered now, not only for the time that had passed, but also because every one of those wizards was dead.

The real best day was in his third year, when he and Lily were still friends. He had found himself more and more isolated, his circle of friends now down to her and a few of the most thuggish witches and wizards of Slytherin. They were mostly with him to learn more spells, because they were too dim to devise their own. Severus detested their dull minds, but enjoyed the payments his spellwork was bringing in. He looked forward to every time they would study together, for she was clearly both beautiful and bright. She hadn't yet begun to castigate him about his friends, though she had mentioned she agreed with his earning time in detention for throwing jinxes in Arithmancy. He dismissed her concerns at the time, telling her it was just a little one and that Vector was overreacting, but it side-lined his plan to ask her to the Halloween Ball as his date. By the time they had another chance to get together, she was already going with that creep Quirrell from Ravenclaw.

"Which path do you choose?" Hania asked.

Snape's countenance was immobile. "It's too late for that discussion. I chose wrongly then, a choice which cannot be undone."

"You are correct, that cannot be undone. No one can rewrite the past. What memory do you choose to hold in your heart, which to fill you now? This choice you have, every day."

One path had tall trees with straight trunks and abundant golden-red leaves. The other had twisted trees and briar patches. He walked to the trees with the red-gold leaves and felt the warmth of friendship there.

"For the next phase of your life, bring to mind again your best day and your worst as a young man out of school." Hania could not have known how bad his worst day was, holding the lifeless body of Lily, all of his hopes that Dumbledore might be able to protect her dashed, his very soul cracking with the knowledge that his own thirst for revenge and power had caused her death.

"There is no best day during this time."

"There must be, think harder." He did think harder and could only recall fighting, deceit, malice. He made poisons for a living, and became quite wealthy, barely caring who would wind up in St. Mungo's or worse. Death Eaters or other, it mattered not. He plotted attacks on the Ministry of Magic, ruthlessly doling out curses and hexes as it suited him. Then she died and every sick lie of Voldemort was revealed. Dumbledore allowed him a chance a redemption, at a steep cost. He couldn't leave the Death Eaters, so he remained, stretched between both worlds, a useful tool to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, constantly trying to determine where his own interests lay, until he simply gave up on his own interests and merely endured, forming and executing plans in an endless cycle.

"There is nothing. That was a time of great darkness in my life, a time I would prefer had never happened."

"But it did, and it has shaped you, been a part of you. Think harder."

This man clearly does not know me, at least not Severus Snape, the loyal and feared Death Eater. He continued to sift through the memories of that time for anything other than hostility. He had hated everyone then, Death Eaters, Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore, the Ministry, himself.

Then a small thought occurred to him. The day he'd started altering the formulas for his poisons. He had decided it was too much now. He'd begun to procure weaker ingredients, cheaper preparations that were less active. He harvested ingredients at lesser strength, at the wrong times and seasons. He would cut them with inert substances, never letting on to his staff that they were now making irritants, purgatives, and emetics. He'd always hired obedient staff, rather than intelligent Potioneers, who would follow his instructions without question, because they weren't sharp enough to understand what they were making. When buyers would return, he would publicly castigate whoever had been responsible for the potion, each of whom would tremble and insist they had been careful and done it just right, as always. He would refund the cost, but never fired any of his staff. That had felt good, not just in saving some lucky wizard or witch from grave injury, but equally in foiling the Death Eaters. It wasn't much, but it was the best thing he could recall.

The forest again, but this time, giving way to a swamp. Neither path was very clear, just a slight thinning out of the grasses in places, with a few stones for stepping. One was toxic, smelling of rotting meat, the other merely revolting and slimy. So it was for that time in his life. He chose the slightly less toxic path.

As he walked through the swamp, steam and heat rose up, surrounding him. His breathing became labored. The steady voice of Hania rose. "Shall we take a break, Severus? There is further to go, and you need to cool."

"No, I am not finished."

"You won't last to finish if you don't cool. Let's go." Strong hands gripped him beneath his arms, lifting him and pulling his depleted body towards the entrance to the sweat lodge. He emerged into reviving chill, still supported by Hania and Lapu. Morgan was sitting, surrounded by her friends, casting a worried look at him. She tried to rise, but her friends held her down. He heard bits of their words. "He'll be fine." "Hania won't let him be hurt." "Lapu had done this a hundred times."

Her concern pained him. He wanted so much to go to her, to say himself that he was doing well. But he had given himself over to Hania and Lapu. If they released him, he would go. Otherwise, he would continue under their guidance. They led him to Chowi, and another cup of sacred water, pouring through him like a Potion, driving out old haunts, his own smell foul and disgusting. He nodded to them and they returned once more.

Seated by the stones, the heat quickly brought him back with Hania and the swamp.

"We have come a long way in a short time, Severus. You have chosen what you will hear, what you take from your past and what you will let remain behind. Now you must face your future. What will you build from this point forward? What do you truly want?"

His walking had become difficult, then impossible. Now he found himself dressed in a heavy cloak, with many pockets filled with something heavy, weighing him down, making further progress impossible. He dropped his hand into the pockets and withdrew their contents. Each one held a glass orb containing a vision in purplish swirls, vibrating in his hands. Each one fully formed, painfully real: himself as the most powerful Death Eater, having defeated Voldemort himself; his being married to Lily, richer than Lucius once had been, Malfoy now coming to him for his needs; his besting of Sirius, Remus, and James in duels, them groveling in defeat and shame; his being married to Morgan, their traveling to the desert together, his learning her Magic and she his, both of them surrounded by students; his being elected Minister of Magic but alone, even Harry keeping his distance except at holidays; his overseeing a small Potions shop, making useless, routine preparations for ordinary witches and wizards. He could choose only one vision, only one path. In turn, he took each in his hand and studied it, rolling the crystal balls in his hands, feeling their weight, watching the scenes swirl and change. Some were not possible, some not desirable, but others within his reach.

"Is this a prophecy, the future foretold? Or simply what may be possible?" he asked.

"The only person you truly control is yourself, Severus. No matter what you may choose or want, others have the power to make decisions for themselves. No future is ever ours alone to determine. Your actions can make a future more or less likely, just as before," Hania replied. "No Magic, yours or mine, changes that."

One by one, he drew them out and smashed each against the rocks, the swirling purple vanishing, leaving only the lingering scent of age and decay and the ground covered with broken pieces of futures that were not to be, except the one with Morgan. This one he kept, holding it, feeling its warmth and power.

"I have now unburdened myself of other, lesser futures," he said to Hania. "A life with Morgan Hunter is my goal, my destination. Now that I have chosen to strengthen and magnify whatever good may remain within me, will I have her at last?"

Hania replied. "No, she is not your reward."

"Then what is?" he asked, knowing the answer before he finished the question. Hania had the disturbing pattern of saying things very similar to what Dumbledore would say.

"Living with joy and purpose, without being mired in the mud of your past, is your reward. As for Kasa, she is not a prize to be awarded, not your right for having suffered. She has her own free will, as she always has. That is not how marriages are made. You reward is in now being worthy of her, of being her equal."

Severus Snape could imagine no greater achievement.

Hunter could see on his face the transformation as he drank deeply from the cup Chowi offered, before he sat down next to her. The others retreated, giving them at least auditory privacy. They sat silently for some time as he continued to feel the water coursing through his veins, driving out more of the remnants of his years of enmity, rage, guilt, remorse, and regret.

At long last, he took her hand. "Will you have me, Morgan, as your husband?" Her kiss then told him all he needed to know.