Theories

"Where is the locket?"

"Upstairs," Harry said. "I've been keeping it locked up just like you told me."

Snape nodded, taking off his traveling cloak before he reached in his robes. He withdrew a long, slender object, rubies glittering beneath the lamplight as he laid it on the table.

"Wow. How did you get it?"

"How do you think? I took it from the Headmaster's office."

"But I thought that only a Gryffindor…" Harry trailed off, feeling foolish.

"Is that what Dumbledore told you? Yes, well, he was partial to the legend for obvious reasons."

Snape didn't want to do it in the sitting room. He ruled out the kitchen, too, pointing out the risk of structural damage. Finally, they chose a vacant room on the third floor, locking the door behind them though there was little point in doing so. Harry pulled the locket out of his jeans, noticing Ron flinch as he dangled it from his fingers.

"I don't like that thing."

"Yeah, none of us do."

"No, I mean, I really don't like it. How about I go downstairs and you let me know when it's done?"

But Harry didn't want him to leave. It seemed important for him to stay, all the more so considering what their lives had been like this summer. Sure, Ron had stuck around, but he wasn't happy about it. How many times had he complained about the training, the lack of fresh air, how much he missed his family?

Harry had hoped that Bill and Fleur's wedding would help, but if anything, it had only made things worse. They'd all realized how trapped they were, to the point where even the Burrow wasn't safe.

Hermione didn't seem to mind. She'd thrown herself into training with her usual enthusiasm, and the way she'd dealt with Umbridge was brilliant. She'd even been getting along with Snape, commenting on how nice it was to have him around.

"Snape? Are you joking?"

"Oh come on, Ron. He's been really helpful."

"Yeah? He's also a nasty git who treated us like rubbish for six years!"

"Shhh!"

"Don't shush me, Hermione. He's not even here."

"No, but Harry is. How do you think he'd feel if he heard you talking like that about…"

Ron cut her off, reminding her that Harry was asleep. He wasn't, of course, though they hadn't known that, not bothering to lower their voices as they'd continued to bicker.

"It wouldn't hurt to make more of an effort, Ron. That's all I'm saying."

"Why should I? You and Harry have got most things sorted, and Snape swoops in like a greasy old bat and handles the rest. Honestly, what do you need me for?"

"Well, there's…"

"See?"

"I wasn't finished."

"You can't finish because you know I'm right. Seriously, Hermione, name one thing I've done since we've been here that's made any difference."

"Supporting Harry? Being his friend?"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

Ron wasn't the first person who'd been stuck at Grimmauld Place, frustrated by uselessness and boredom. Sirius had been the exact same way, desperate for an opportunity to prove himself. He'd been willing to do something reckless, downright foolish, really, all for the sake of…

"Harry?"

He blinked, returning to the present. "Yeah?"

"Take it," Snape said, offering him the sword. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

He shook his head. "Give it to Ron."

"Me? Why?"

"Because," Harry said, "you're a part of this. Just like me and Hermione and Dumbledore and…"

He wanted Ron to feel included. Of course he did, though it was more than that. What had Dumbledore said about certain kinds of magic, the incalculable power of specific acts? Multiple Horcruxes. Multiple people. In a strange way, they mirrored each other, reminding Harry that this wasn't just about him. One person couldn't defeat Voldemort, just like destroying only one Horcrux would be pointless. Each person, each fragment was part of something bigger, all of them equally important.

"Nah, mate. You do it."

"No, Ron. It has to be you."

"But why? You've already done it, you know how…"

"Exactly," Harry said. "I destroyed the first one, Dumbledore destroyed the second. The third one's yours."

"Doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, as long as someone gets rid of it…" Ron trailed off, retreating a couple steps. "Why's it doing that?"

The locket had been twitching since they'd entered the room, though its movements were becoming more frantic. It was all Harry could do just to hold on to it, fingers clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It's part of a living soul, Mr. Weasley, one that senses its demise. Or potential demise, I should say, considering that you're too frightened…"

"I'm not scared," Ron interrupted, shooting Snape a dirty look.

"No? Then prove it. Take the bloody sword."

Harry would've used a different tactic, though he had to admit that Snape's was effective. The fear in Ron's expression was replaced by defiance, his jaw stubbornly set as he snatched the sword from Snape's hand.

"It's got to be quick, Ron. As soon as I open it…"

"How are you going to do that?"

No one had told Harry what to do. He just knew, words coming to his lips as he studied the elegantly curved S. He had no trouble imagining it as a miniature snake, green stones shimmering like dozens of tiny scales.

"Parseltongue," he said. "You ready?"

Ron wasn't, though he'd never admit it while Snape was in the room. He gripped the hilt of the sword a little tighter, responding with a curt nod.

"One… two… three… open."

The last word emerged as a hiss, the temperature seeming to drop as the locket swung open. A pair of eyes gazed out at them, dark and mysterious, lingering on Snape and Harry before they swiveled toward Ron.

"Stab it," Harry said.

Ron stood frozen, gasping aloud as a sinister whisper issued from the locket.

"You are mine, Ronald Weasley. I have seen your dreams, I know what is in your heart…"

"Go on, Ron. Stab it!"

"Useless. Mediocre. Pitied by friends who outshine you, chasing glory that can never be yours. Who are you compared to the Chosen One, or the brightest witch of her age? In their eyes, you will always be inferior, worthy of mockery whenever your back is turned."

"It's not true!" Harry protested. "Ron, don't listen to it!"

But Ron was transfixed, even more so as the Horcrux began to whisper about his family. His hands were trembling, a peculiar glint creeping into his eyes…

"They don't need you, Ronald Weasley, but I do. I can guide you, teach you, give you everything you desire and more. I will elevate you to heights you cannot imagine, a life filled with power, recognition…"

"Stab it," Snape hissed. "Do it now, stupid boy, or I'll do it myself!"

"Ron, please."

Harry didn't know if it was Snape's insult or his own desperate plea. Whatever it was, Ron snapped out of his trance, letting out a yell as he plunged the sword into the locket. It screamed, a high-pitched, unearthly sound, gradually tapering off into silence.

"Is it gone?"

"Yeah," Harry said, staring down at the smoking locket. "Good job, mate."

Ron started to say something else, only to stop as Hermione burst into the room. She was clutching her wand, eyes wild as she searched their faces.

"What was that?"

"We just destroyed a Horcrux," Harry said. "Well, Ron did."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"You were sleeping," Ron said.

"So? You knew I wanted to see…"

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "We still have three to go."

"Four," Snape said quietly.

They all turned to look at him, though Harry was the only one who wasn't surprised. He'd known this was coming, a painful yet necessary conversation he'd been putting off for months.

"Four?!" Ron stared at Snape, aghast. "What are you talking about?"

Snape shook his head. "Not here."

He left the room in a billow of black robes, clearly expecting them to follow. Soon enough, the four of them were gathered around the kitchen table, a fresh pot of tea sitting in front of them along with a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Do you wish to tell them, or shall I do it?"

Harry hesitated, taking an unnecessarily long time to fix himself a cup of tea. Finally, he sighed in resignation, setting the saucer down as he glanced at his friends.

"It's true," he said. "There are four Horcruxes left, not three."

"Dumbledore said…"

"I know, Hermione, but he didn't tell me everything. There's another part, which is hard to explain…" He trailed off, looking helplessly at Snape.

"He wasn't supposed to know," Snape said, "not until the final moment, when Dumbledore felt that the time was right."

"Know what?"

"Patience, Mr. Weasley. I'm getting to that."

Snape poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey, sipping at it briefly before he launched into a detailed explanation. It was almost as vivid as the memory Harry had seen, Dumbledore's voice seeming to echo from beyond the grave.

"So the boy must die?"

"And Voldemort himself must do it. That is essential."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron and Hermione, though he could see them out of the corner of his eye. Hermione's face had gone stark white, Ron's mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"

Snape paused, taking a large swallow of Firewhiskey. His composure was impressive, to say the least, his voice quiet yet steady as he continued.

"Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter…"

"Dumbledore wouldn't do that," Hermione whispered. "He… he cared about Harry."

Even as she said it, Harry could see the doubt in her eyes. Meanwhile, Ron looked furious, slamming his cup down so hard it broke into several pieces.

"You're lying."

"I took the Vow, Mr. Weasley, or have you forgotten? If these memories weren't real…"

"He'd be dead right now," Harry finished for him.

Ron didn't think Snape was lying. Not really. He just couldn't accept what he was hearing, desperate to find some other explanation. It was a weak effort at best, anger gradually giving way to bewilderment as he slumped back in his chair.

"But Dumbledore… he was the most powerful wizard alive, the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. Isn't that what everyone says?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Then why couldn't he figure out a way to save him?"

"Maybe there isn't one," Harry said quietly.

Ron shook his head. "I don't believe that."

"Neither do I," Snape said, "which is the point of this conversation. If I am wrong, so be it, but I'm not willing to give up until we've exhausted all possibilities."

"Like what?" Hermione said. "What can we do?"

"Research. You're quite good at that, as I recall, and the Black library has a lot to offer. There's also my own collection, though access to that will be rather more limited."

"Wouldn't Dumbledore have tried that already?" Ron said. "I mean, he had the whole Hogwarts library…"

"Irrelevant." Snape paused, taking a sip of tea. "What I'm referring to are the Dark Arts, books that are forbidden at Hogwarts."

"Of course they're forbidden. No one should be messing with that stuff."

"Therein lies your blind spot, Mr. Weasley, the same one Dumbledore had to a lesser degree. For you, the Dark Arts are something to be avoided at all costs. It doesn't occur to you that the problem and the solution might very well come from the same place."

"If you're talking about cursing Harry…"

"I don't think that's what he means, Ron."

Harry wasn't sure Hermione understood either, but she at least seemed open to the idea. She promised Snape that they'd start research right away, passing along any tidbits that might be helpful.

"Anything," he said, "even if it seems insignificant. Of course, I also expect all three of you to continue your training. Drill each other daily on defensive spells, work on aggressive strategies if you can do so without harming each other. Occlumency lessons as often as possible, not to mention…"

"Right, and when are we supposed to eat or sleep?"

"Don't be foolish, Mr. Weasley. You'll still have plenty of time for your personal needs."

"I'll draw up a schedule," Hermione said. "Breakfast at 7 AM, then three hours for research. Maybe a little training before lunch, then Occlumency in the afternoon. An hour break before dinner, then we can…"

"An hour? Come on, Hermione!"

"Sounds reasonable to me," Snape said.

"Yeah? Try letting her manage your free time and see how you feel."

"Starting tomorrow, I won't have any free time. I'll be responsible for maintaining order over an entire school while attempting to keep two of the most vicious Death Eaters you can imagine from running roughshod over the students. Then there's the matter of maintaining my cover, knowing that even the tiniest slip could have devastating consequences. I'll be constantly looking over my shoulder for those on our side who believe I'm a traitor, not to mention…"

Snape trailed off, though his rant had the desired effect. Ron looked much more subdued, mumbling something that sounded like 'sorry.'

"I don't want your apologies," Snape said. "I want you to follow my instructions, preferably without complaint. Can you do that, Mr. Weasley?"

"I guess."

"You guess? Need I remind you that…"

"Don't worry, Severus," Hermione said hastily. "We'll be fine."

Did she just… Harry stared at her, his eyes shifting to Ron as he heard an audible gasp. Meanwhile, Snape seemed completely unruffled, lips twitching slightly as he responded.

"Thank you, Hermione. I'll leave it to you to keep them in check."

"Hermione?Why are you calling her that?"

"It's her name, Mr. Weasley. Now if you'll excuse me…" Snape rose to his feet, draining his cup before he set it in the sink. "It's late, and I'll be leaving before dawn. I can't say when I'll be able to return, though I'll try to come by next weekend."

It was an awkward moment, the three of them still sitting at the table as he hovered in the doorway. His eyes bored into Harry's, his expression shifting several times…

"The portrait," he said abruptly. "Use it if you need to reach me."

Phineas Nigellus Black turned out to be a remarkably good ally. Not only was he discreet enough to keep secrets, but he never failed to take Severus's side. Indeed, he delighted in it, especially where Dumbledore was concerned. He insisted that Severus's leadership was a massive improvement, something he made sure to bring up on a daily basis.

"Headmaster Snape understands the value of strict discipline. Unlike his predecessor, he doesn't play favorites or allow the students to run wild."

"Favorites? I never played favorites."

Phineas snorted, staring down his nose at Dumbledore's portrait. "Did you or did you not steal the House Cup from Slytherin six years ago?"

"Steal?" Dumbledore looked affronted. "I merely awarded House Points to those who richly deserved them."

"Rule breakers," said a plump faced witch with ruddy cheeks, "and Gryffindors to boot!"

Moments like these were a reprieve, a welcome distraction from what was otherwise an extremely stressful job. Managing the Carrows. Protecting the students. Dealing with colleagues, which was much more difficult than Severus had anticipated. They acted like he was contagious, careful to keep their distance while whispering behind his back. Even Minerva treated him coldly, thin lips curled into a scowl as she approached him in the Great Hall one evening.

"Professor Snape…"

"I am headmaster, Professor McGonagall. You will address me by my proper title."

"Headmaster," she corrected, shooting him a poisonous glare. "May I speak to you in private?"

He took her to his old office, deciding he wasn't in the mood for eavesdropping portraits. Dumbledore had been haranguing him for weeks about Harry… he had no interest in dodging questions about Minerva, too.

"Now," he said as he closed the door behind them. "What did you…"

He trailed off, taken aback by her expression. Gone was the coldness, the hostility, replaced by a look of… was that shame?

"Severus, I really must apologize…"

He shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her. "I am supposed to be your enemy. It's better for us both if you keep up the pretense."

"So you knew?"

No, he hadn't. He'd been thoroughly convinced that she hated him, that she'd decided he was a traitor just like everyone else. What did it matter that he'd told her the truth on the night Dumbledore died? She'd obviously come to her own conclusions, assuming the worst rather than giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Of course," he lied smoothly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

He smirked, watching her eyes light up as he summoned a dusty bottle of Ogden's. Conjuring a couple glasses, he filled them to the brim, raising his arm in an impromptu toast.

"To deception."

"Deception?" She frowned.

"It's a powerful weapon, perhaps the most effective one we have. If we are to win this war…"

He didn't need to finish, her glass clinking against his at the mere mention of victory. She took a sip, spilling the rest down the front of her robes as someone pounded on the door.

"Bloody…"

"Give it to me," he said urgently, shoving the bottle and glasses back in the drawer. He got to his feet, rearranging his features into the sternest, most uncompromising expression he could manage.

"Enter."

It was Amycus Carrow. Of course it was. The man followed him around like a foul little shadow, desperate to ingratiate himself at every opportunity.

"Good evening, Headmaster. Alecto saw you headed down here with…" Amycus trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Minerva.

"And?"

"We wanted to make sure there wasn't a problem."

"I am disciplining an unruly staff member. If you consider that to be a problem, I'd suggest you take it up with the Dark Lord."

"No need for that. We just…"

"Just what? Decided it was your place to meddle in my affairs? Well then, perhaps it is I who should speak with the Dark Lord. I'm sure he'd be interested to know that you and your sister have been shirking your duties."

"We haven't…"

"You're supposed to be patrolling the grounds tonight, or have you forgotten? You told me yourself that there were rumors…"

"We'll be headed out there shortly," Amycus said, a strange gleam creeping into his eyes. "Don't worry, Headmaster. We'll find them."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Severus said tersely. "Good night, Amycus."

He closed the door, sighing in relief as he turned back to Minerva. She was standing beside his desk, still clutching the wand she'd been concealing in the folds of her robes.

"Find who? Severus, what was he talking about?"

"Students roaming the grounds after curfew. You haven't heard?"

"Students? That's impossible! We put extra wards on the doors, not to mention…"

"Precisely," he interrupted. "Amycus and his despicable sister cannot harm real students while they're busy hunting fictitious ones."

"You…"

"I planted rumors, yes, along with a few clues that would lend them credence. I have also arranged…" He trailed off, flinching in response to the dull, prickling sensation on his forearm.

"Severus? What is it?"

What should he tell her? The truth? Certainly not. There was no point in worrying her, especially if it was another false alarm.

"It's later than I realized, and I have a pile of correspondence to attend to. If you'll excuse me…"

"Of course. Good night, Severus."

"Good night."

He followed her out of the office, forcing himself to walk at a normal pace until she disappeared around the corner. With that, he broke into a run, his stomach twisting in knots as he ascended several flights of stairs.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt the signal. There'd been numerous occurrences over the past few weeks, each one nearly sending him into a full blown panic. He knew he was overreacting, but what did that matter? If there was even the slightest chance…

Harry Potter has been found.

That was what the signal meant, or at least, what it was supposed to mean, which was why Severus had been feeling it so often. Countless Death Eaters were out there hunting for Harry, all of them desperate to be the first one to find him. That made them reckless, foolish, eager to send the signal even when they were clutching at straws. Supposed sightings, mistaken identities…

"Asphodel," he snarled at the gargoyle, waiting none too patiently as it slid aside. He rushed up the final flight of stairs, only to stop as he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. He moved a little closer, pulling out his wand…

"Come on, hurry up! If Snape catches us…"

"Consider yourself caught, Mr. Longbottom."

Severus spent the next half hour interrogating Longbottom and his companions. How had they gotten into his office? Why did they want the sword, and what were they planning to do once they'd stolen it? Were they foolish enough to think they could carry it around without being seen? It was a bloody sword, not some ridiculous, miniaturized item from Zonko's.

Predictably, they refused to answer his questions. The Weasley girl and Longbottom stared at him defiantly, while Lovegood gazed off into the distance. Annoying, though he supposed it didn't matter. He dismissed them soon thereafter, informing them that they'd be serving detention.

"Detention? With Hagrid?"

"Is that a problem, Miss Weasley? If so, I can always speak to the Carrows…"

"Hagrid's fine," Longbottom said hastily. "Come on, let's go."

Severus waited for them to shuffle out, slamming the door with a flick of his wand. Phineas… he needed to talk to Phineas…

Phineas's portrait was empty.

"Good timing on your part, Severus. I was beginning to think they'd get away with it."

Bloody hell. He'd never been less in the mood to talk to Dumbledore, portrait form or otherwise. All he wanted to do was make sure Harry was safe, hopefully followed by a few hours of sleep.

"Yes, well, they didn't."

"Not this time," Dumbledore said, "though they'll almost certainly try again."

"Obviously. What is your point?"

"If your master finds out…"

"He's not my master!" Severus snapped.

"Forgive me. If Lord Voldemort finds out, he'll no doubt have questions. He'll want to know why the sword is so valuable, and of course, why you failed to bring it to his attention."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Should I conceal it, or…"

"I have a better idea."

Severus arrived at Malfoy Manor just after midnight, pacing the foyer as he waited for someone to acknowledge his presence. He heard a familiar voice, high-pitched yet muffled, stopping in his tracks so he could listen more closely.

"A Muggle? You summoned I, Lord Voldemort, over a Muggle?"

"M-my lord, the resemblance was uncanny! We couldn't have known…"

Closing his eyes, Severus released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It didn't matter how many times he'd told himself it was just another false alarm, nor how unlikely it was that Harry had been caught. He'd been on edge for hours, unable to ignore the slight possibility…

He lost his train of thought, swiftly regaining his composure as he heard footsteps above. Lucius appeared at the top of the stairs, looking even more disheveled than the last time he'd seen him.

"Ah, Severus. We weren't expecting you tonight."

"I apologize for the intrusion, Lucius. There's a matter I must discuss with…"

He paused, both of them glancing toward the drawing room. Clearly, Voldemort had decided that torture was an appropriate response, frantic begging followed by a succession of agonized screams.

"Who is it?"

"One of the newer ones," Lucius said. "I can't recall the name."

Did it matter? Whoever it was, they'd been hunting for Harry, more than willing to facilitate his murder. For that reason, Severus couldn't bring himself to pity them, deciding that their punishment was well deserved.

"How's Draco?"

"Fine," he said, turning back to Lucius. "I hear he's performing quite well in Amycus's class."

"Is he? Well, I can't say I'm surprised. He always had an aptitude…"

"Lucius! Get this fool out of my sight!"

Lucius turned a shade paler, scurrying off to do the Dark Lord's bidding. He half dragged, half carried the man out of the drawing room, leaving the doors open in his wake.

"Severus? Enter."

Voldemort was still seething, though Severus knew he had nothing to fear. Torture was reserved for lesser Death Eaters, those who were foolish, incompetent, or just plain useless. Severus was none of those things, having proven his worth more times than he could count.

"My lord," he said, bowing low.

Voldemort's expression was inscrutable, fingers wrapped around his wand. No, not his wand. Lucius's wand. Curious, though Severus didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Lucius said you wished to see me?"

"Yes, my lord. I have brought you…"

"Something beneficial, I hope? I'm in no mood for another disappointment."

Severus withdrew the sword from his cloak, placing it on the table. Rubies glinted beneath the candlelight, an eerie replica of the scarlet gleam that had appeared in Voldemort's eyes.

Replica… would he be able to tell? Severus waited, holding his breath…

"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor? Magnificent."

"So magnificent that several students attempted to steal it this evening."

"Steal it? What was their motive?"

"They seemed to believe it was a powerful weapon," Severus said, "though they couldn't give me any specifics."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

"Couldn't, my lord. I interrogated them quite thoroughly."

Voldemort nodded, still transfixed by the glittering jewels. "Were they punished?"

"Severely."

He seemed satisfied with that answer, praising Severus for bringing him the sword. It had improved his mood tremendously, his tone noticeably lighter as he called for Bellatrix.

"My lord," she said breathlessly, slipping into the room as soon as her name was mentioned. Obviously, she'd been listening at the door, though Voldemort didn't seem to notice or care. He motioned for her to sit beside him, allowing her to kiss one of his pale, long fingered hands.

"Severus?"

"My lord?"

"You may go."

Bellatrix might be able to eavesdrop, but Severus could do it better. No need to listen at keyholes like some novice… his strategy was much more refined.

Loath though he was to admit it, the Weasley twins had given him the idea. He'd confiscated several Extendable Ears over the past couple years, marveling over the strange combination of stupidity and brilliance. The amplification effects were powerful, even more so after he'd tweaked the enchantment. He'd also gotten rid of those ridiculous strings, choosing objects that were much more subtle.

He'd planted the first bug in the Carrows' shared office, hiding a couple more in their classrooms. The devices were tiny, barely detectable… who would even notice broken quill nibs when there were so many of them scattered around the castle?

As for the final bug…

It was risky, to say the least, though Severus had taken every precaution. He'd kept it in his pocket throughout their meeting, half expecting Voldemort to sense it and demand an explanation. Naturally, he'd been prepared for that, ready to offer a plausible excuse.

"Confiscated from one of the students, my lord. I'm not sure what it does, if anything, but I assumed you'd want to take a look.

Would Voldemort have believed him? Most likely, though Severus was glad it hadn't come to that. It would've meant losing his only opportunity, knowing full well that he couldn't risk another attempt.

"Were they punished?"

He'd chosen that moment to take action, using his voluminous robes to shield him as he'd dropped the nib. Slowly, carefully, he'd nudged it with the tip of his boot, managing to slide it under the carpet.

Indeed, it had been easier than he'd expected, helped by Voldemort's distraction. Now if he could just get to a safe location…

"Leaving so soon?"

He glanced over his shoulder, doing his best not to appear startled. Lucius had materialized like a ghost, clutching a bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other.

"Regretfully, yes. I have urgent matters to attend to back at Hogwarts."

"Pity," Lucius said. "I was hoping we could share a drink."

"Next time, perhaps."

Lucius opened his mouth to say something else, though Severus pretended not to notice. He strode through the foyer and out the door, resisting the urge to run as he headed toward the Apparition point.

Grimmauld Place? No, not yet. As much as he wanted to see for himself that Harry was safe, he needed to make one more detour.

Harry shuffled around the kitchen, doing his best to be quiet as he fixed himself a bowl of cereal. He carried it to the sitting room, pushing aside a week old copy of the Daily Prophet before he plopped down on the couch.

There weren't many things he missed about the Muggle world, though at the moment, he couldn't help wishing he had a TV. Everything was too still, too quiet, not a single sound to be heard other than the ticking of the clock. 2:35 AM… 2:36 AM…

What was he supposed to do with himself? He was wide awake, and his friends would be asleep for the next few hours. Of course, Hermione would tell him to do something useful, but he'd had enough of that. Practicing spells, studying Occlumency, his nose buried in some dusty old book? He was tired of it, sick of preparing for a moment that felt like it would never come.

More than anything, Harry just wanted a break. He dreamed of playing Quidditch on a sunny afternoon, maybe dropping by Diagon Alley for a bit of ice cream. He missed Hogwarts, weekend trips to Hogsmeade…

Most of all? He missed Ginny.

It wasn't so bad during the day. Hermione kept him too busy to think about the outside world, and of course, he had her and Ron for company. But the nights…

Nights were different, especially now that he was having trouble sleeping. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about what he was missing, everything he'd left behind, and all the things he couldn't do. He felt bad about it, reminding himself that Ron and Hermione were going through the same thing. Still, he couldn't help…

Harry froze, his eyes widening as he heard the front door open, followed by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps. He fumbled for his wand, hardly daring to breathe as he peered around the corner.

"Expelliarmus!"

The heavily cloaked figure stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a thud. He grunted, struggling to get to his feet…

"Expell…"

This time, the intruder was ready. He disrupted the spell, managing to disarm Harry without uttering a word. Harry panicked, opening his mouth to shout for Ron and Hermione.

"Impressive," said a familiar voice, "though you still need to work on your nonverbals."

"I'm sorry, I… I didn't realize it was you."

Snape pushed himself up from the floor, lowering his hood to reveal a head of lank black hair. Harry had never seen him in Death Eater regalia, a sight that was admittedly a bit disturbing.

"Foolish mistake on my part. I assumed you'd be asleep."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Snape snorted, tossing his cloak aside before he sat down on the couch. His face was thinner than the last time Harry had seen it, skin so pale it was almost translucent. He looked tired, downright exhausted, really, red rimmed eyes underscored by dark circles.

"Do you want some tea? Maybe something to eat?"

"Coffee."

Harry nodded. "Kreacher?"

As he'd expected, the house elf was awake, bowing low before hurrying off to do his bidding. He returned a couple minutes later with a steaming pot of coffee, offering each of them a cup.

"Oh, no thanks," Harry said. "Don't need anything else to keep me awake."

"Speaking of which…" Snape paused, adding a spoonful of sugar to his cup. "It's three in the morning. Care to explain why you aren't in bed?"

Harry tried to shrug it off, but Snape was persistent. He kept asking questions, forcing him to admit that it had been at least a week since he'd gotten a decent night's sleep.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's no big deal. I'm fine, just… not tired, I guess."

"No big deal? Your mind shares a connection with the Dark Lord. Any weakness, the slightest vulnerability…"

"Try it," Harry said.

"What?"

"You know, Legilimency. Go on and try it."

Snape took a long sip of coffee, studying Harry over the rim of his cup. Finally, he set it down, pulling his wand out of his sleeve.

"Legilimens."

The invasion was much more forceful than Harry was used to, a far cry from Hermione's gentle prodding. Nonetheless, he was able to push back against it, shielding his mind from the assault. Snape tried to access specific memories, only for Harry to offer others in their place. Finally, he broke the connection, visualizing it snapping in two like a twig.

"How?" Snape said, black eyes wide as he lowered his wand.

"You told me to practice. I practiced."

"Yes, but…"

"Didn't think I could do it?"

Snape shook his head. "I never said that."

Maybe not, but Harry knew what he was thinking. He still remembered those Occlumency lessons in fifth year, the way Snape had treated him like an utter failure. It hadn't been fair, but then, he hadn't been fair to Snape either. They'd both made all sorts of assumptions, some of which still lingered despite their efforts to move past them.

"It's working," Harry said abruptly. "With You-Know-Who, I mean. My scar still hurts sometimes, but I've been able to block the visions."

"Yes, well…" Snape paused, still looking a bit dumbstruck. "Be sure to let me know if that changes."

"I will."

"Newfound talent aside, you should've told me you were having difficulty sleeping. I would've brought you a potion if I'd known, though unfortunately, that will have to wait until my next visit."

"I don't need potions. Really, I'm fine."

"I'll bring it and you'll take it," Snape snapped. "End of discussion."

Once, Harry would've been offended by his harsh tone. He would've looked for any excuse to defy him, neither knowing or caring what his reasons were for being so irritable. Now? He understood that Snape was only looking out for his well-being. Sure, he could've been nicer about it, but he was obviously stressed and exhausted.

"What about you?" Harry said.

"What about me?"

"Shouldn't you get some sleep?"

"I should, though that is irrelevant. We have urgent matters to discuss."

Snape poured himself another cup of coffee, planing what had happened that night. He told Harry about the sword and the attempt to steal it…

"Ginny? Is she all right?"

"She's fine."

"What about Luna and Neville?"

"Shackled in Filch's office."

"What?!"

"You don't actually believe I'd…" Snape rolled his eyes, giving his head a little shake. "Nevermind. The point is, I didn't come here to talk about your friends. What I wish to discuss is my meeting with the Dark Lord, or more specifically, what happened after I left. I heard him speaking with Bellatrix Lestrange…"

"How?"

"How do you think? I eavesdropped."

"You mean you listened at the door? What if someone saw you, or…"

"I have neither the time or patience to explain right now," Snape said. "Suffice it to say, I overheard some… interesting things. There was mention of a cup, which is currently being stored in the Lestrange's vault."

"Gringotts? But how are we supposed to…"

"Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "Go on."

"Gaining access isn't the issue, or at least, not yet. First, we need to locate the other Horcrux, the one that has yet to be identified. It's important to be strategic, eliminating them in an order that is least likely to arouse suspicion."

"Hogwarts."

"Pardon?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said. "Whatever it is, Hermione's sure it's there."

"Interesting. Why does she think so?"

"None of the locations have been accidental. They all meant something to Volde… You-Know-Who in some way. The ring was hidden in the house where his mum grew up, and he brought the locket to a place he visited as a child."

"Yes, but how would he have gained access to Hogwarts?" Snape said. "To the best of my knowledge, he hasn't been there in corporeal form since…"

"Since he applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

"Yes, I'd nearly forgotten. Continue."

"That's it, really," Harry said. "He's only ever left them in meaningful places or given them to high-ranking Death Eaters. Not sure why he never gave one to you, but…"

"Perhaps he has."

"What?"

"If your theory is correct," Snape said slowly, "the location fits both criteria. A place of the highest significance, looked after by his most trusted servant."

"Yeah, but how are we supposed to find it? Even if it is there…"

"You said that Dumbledore believed it was an item from Ravenclaw. That should narrow the search."

"I know, but…"

Harry trailed off, glancing up as a groggy looking Hermione trudged down the stairs. If she was surprised to see Snape, she didn't show it, mumbling "good morning" before she headed toward the kitchen.

"I need to get back to Hogwarts," Snape said, pulling something from his pocket as he rose from the couch. He set it on the coffee table, tapping it with the tip of his wand.

"Books?"

"Yes, which I expect you to handle with the utmost care. They're from my own collection… at least two of them are quite valuable."

"Right. Thanks."

Snape nodded, grabbing his cloak and wrapping it around his shoulders. He looked fatigued, even more so than he had a couple hours ago, swaying slightly before he managed to steady himself.

"Get some sleep," Harry told him. "Please."

He didn't respond, disappearing around the corner in a swirl of dark robes.

For the next couple weeks, Harry and the others stuck to their routine. They practiced spells, worked on defensive strategy, studied Occlumency, and of course, spent hours each day on research. They combed through every book in the Black library that had anything to do with Dark magic, finally turning to the dozen or so books that Snape had brought.

"I'm sick of this," Ron announced one afternoon. "Can't we do something else?"

"Well, you could use more work on those wandless spells. I guess it wouldn't hurt to…"

"No, Hermione, I want to do something else! You know, something that isn't training or Occlumency or looking through a bunch of stupid old books? That's all we been doing for weeks!"

"This is important," Hermione said firmly. "Ron, you know that."

"So important that we can't take a break?"

"Exactly. We have to figure out what the other Horcrux is, not to mention how to get rid of the one that's inside Harry. We can't just…"

"Ron," Harry interrupted, his voice quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to play chess?"

"Chess?" Hermione stared at him, eyes wide.

"Ron isn't the only one who needs a break," Harry said. "I think we should take the rest of the afternoon off."

"But…"

"Not just this afternoon, but a couple days a week from now on. I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's too much."

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding emphatically. "Honestly, Hermione, I'm exhausted."

"But what if You-Know-Who figures out what we're up to? What if he realizes we're destroying Horcruxes? If that happens before we're ready…"

Harry understood her anxiety. He felt it, too, even more so considering that he was Voldemort's target. Still, he needed to feel normal, at least for a while, desperate for a chance to rest and regroup.

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," he said. "Isn't that how it's always been?"

"Yes, but…"

"Oh, let it go, Hermione," Ron said. "A few hours here and there isn't going to make any difference."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, though she seemed to realize she was outnumbered. After a moment, she shook her head, muttering something about taking a bath as she stomped up the stairs.

"What's her problem?"

"She's scared," Harry said.

"And we're not?"

"Yeah, but you know how she is. The more spells she can learn or books she can read…"

"Or force other people to read," Ron said glumly.

"Right, well, let's not worry about it. Kreacher?"

The house elf appeared with a pop, bowing at Harry's feet.

"Yes, Master?"

"Could you please bring us the chessboard? Oh, and maybe some dinner if it's not too much trouble."

Half an hour later, they were seated on either side of the coffee table, devouring mouthfuls of roast chicken as Ron's rook clobbered Harry's bishop. Kreacher had even made treacle tart, serving them both a huge slice along with ice cold glasses of pumpkin juice.

"That smells good," Hermione said, sounding much more relaxed as she wandered back into the sitting room. "Can I have some?"

Relaxed or not, she clearly wasn't ready to let go of their argument. She ate quickly then curled up in an armchair, rustling the pages rather pointedly as she skimmed through Snape's books.

"Interesting."

"What?" Harry said.

"Oh, nothing," she said breezily. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your game."

He glanced at Ron, both of them rolling their eyes. They did their best to ignore her after that, only looking up when she let out an audible gasp.

"Hermione, come on. We just wanted a few hours…"

Ron trailed off, picking up on what Harry had already noticed. Hermione's cheeks were flushed, her eyes as wide as saucers as she stared down at the page.

"Hermione?" Harry said. "What is it?"

"I… I think I found something."

Author's Note: My fansite, Always Snape (alwayssnape . com), is a great place to hang out/connect with other Snape fans. Our forum is full of fascinating discussions, interesting polls, not to mention our weekly writing challenges and other fun activities. Please stop by/sign up if interested – we'd love to have you!