'I don't care whose side you're on, you have a duty to protect the students of this school!'

'Are you suggesting I am doing anything differently?' Growled Severus, his growing anger forcing him to his feet.

Minerva's face had gone a deep shade of purple as she crossed her arms against her chest. 'Muggle-born students are being targeted, or have you got your head so far up Voldemort's arse you can't see it.'

'Don't say that name around me,' Severus hissed, touching his arm absently. The movement caught her gaze and her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles. 'I am aware there has been… an incident or two—' Minerva scoffed at that '— but upon investigation, I have been assured they were isolated in nature.'

Truthfully, the only incident he had been aware of was Granger's attack a few nights prior, and he had assumed that it was purely related to her friendship with Potter. He made a mental note to ask her at their next meeting, which — he glanced at his pocket watch — he was already late for.

'Somewhere better to be?' Minerva spat, looking pointedly at his watch. 'Late for an important meeting with your fellow brethren.'

He hated the way it sounded coming from her, full of accusation and disgust. He wished he could deny everything her words suggested but in fact, he no longer had a leg to stand on.

'I do, actually,' Severus lied smoothly. 'So if you would not mind…'

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, for Minerva placed her hands on her hips, glaring down her nose at him as though he were a naughty fifth-year. He wondered briefly if she had ever cottoned on that he had learned his infamous intimidation technique from her.

'I expected better from you, Severus. You swore to protect this school's children at all costs. I understand you and I no longer see eye to eye, let alone work for the same side, but I expect you to at least be honourable enough to uphold that oath.' She gestured at the portraits of the Headmasters long passed that hung on the walls around them. 'You must do better.'

The desk between them felt like a wall of stone. Couldn't she see that he was doing his best? That everything he had done, every sacrifice he had made was all for that blasted boy with a scar on his head. She was still afforded the luxury of camaraderie with the other staff, and he knew the means of communication between her and the Order were still open, while he was made to suffer alone, an outcast while his name was dragged through the dirt.

Except that wasn't entirely true, was it? He had failed to protect the students in his care. The knowledge churned in his belly like spoiled milk.

Severus schooled his features into disinterest and plucked an invisible piece of fluff off the sleeve of his robes. 'Is that all?'

The fury in her face tempered slightly as the muscles in her jaw worked. She crossed her arms against her chest, looking every bit as regal as she had the night he had been sorted into Slytherin. 'She would be so disappointed in the man you've become.'

Without another word she left, the door rattling slightly on its hinges. Severus stared at the space she had left feeling like he had been kicked in the stomach.

'Minerva's right, you know,' came a voice from behind him. 'You've been far too distracted lately.'

Severus whipped around to see Dumbledore sitting calmly in his frame, his blue eyes twinkling.

'Don't you start,' Severus snapped. 'I'm not beneath setting your portrait on fire.'

Dumbledore had the audacity to chuckle. 'Come now, Severus. I didn't peg you for such childish acts.'

He reached for his wand. 'Try me.'

Before he could fulfil his threat there was a tentative knock at the door. He groaned and slumped into his chair. 'Come in.' Bloody Terence Higgs opened the door with a crack, shuffling nervously on his feet. Severus had no patience for the boy on the best of days. 'What is it?'

'Ah… Headmaster, sir.' He rubbed at his left arm. 'Amycus and Alecto wanted me to let you know they've been summoned.'

'They've been summoned by the Dark Lord?'

'Er, yes sir. That's what they said.' Higgs' anxiety was apparent on his face.

Severus ground his palms into his eyes. The whole evening had been an entire farce from the start. The irony that some of the Death Eaters had been summoned, just as Minerva had taunted, wasn't lost on him. 'Who am I left with, exactly?' Severus asked, though he already had an inkling of the answer.

'Ah, myself and Pucey.'

Voldemort had left him with two junior Death Eaters. Bloody fantastic. 'And what of Draco Malfoy?'

Higgs looked down and his feet. 'He's gone too, sir.'

Merlin's bloody bollocks.

Severus' hand came down on the desk with a loud slap. This was deliberate then. If Draco had been summoned with the others, Severus was being intentionally being kept from information. His tongue pressed against his cheek. 'I want you both stationed at the gates. Do not let in another soul until the Carrows return, do I make myself clear?'

'Yes sir.' Higgs dipped his head meekly before ducking out of the room.

From behind him, Dumbledore coughed. Severus kicked the edge of the desk in anger.

'Severus, if Tom hasn't summoned you along with the rest then this is grave news, indeed.'

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down. 'And what exactly do you suggest I do? Demand an audience? Grovel at his feet?' The thought made him sick. 'You would love that, wouldn't you? You would love for me to hand myself over to die.'

'Now, now. You know that isn't true,' Dumbledore responded in a patronising tone that set his teeth on edge. 'We still have much work left to do.'

'We?' Severus laughed darkly. 'Do not get this twisted. Any partnership we had dissolved the day I killed you.' He stood, fixing his robes. 'And believe me, I would happily do it again.'

He arrived at the Room of Requirements nearly an hour later than intended, his mood still foul. Thankfully the corridor was empty, for he was certain he lacked the patience to wait around. He shut the door and leaned back against it, studying the room before him. The sun had long since set, the room glowing with hundreds of floating candles. A fire roared in the grate, filling the small space with its warmth.

A mass of dark curls spilling over the back of the sofa gave him pause and he could feel the tension drain from his limbs.

It was like waking up in an alternate reality. How many times had he dreamt about the image of her on his sofa at Spinner's End, reading a book just like this? The details were different of course, the Room of Requirements being more inviting than his cramped front room, but the impression was the same. Granger was here, alone, waiting for him.

He cleared his throat and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her face softened at the sight of him, the candlelight giving her skin a rosy hue. She had felt comfortable enough to drop the glamour, and already he could tell his potion had made an improvement on her wounds. His chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze.

'Oh good, you're here.' She turned back to her book. 'I found something.'

The illusion shattered and he felt oddly irritated by her familiar tone. He pulled a small pouch from his robes before unbuttoning them entirely, flinging them across the back of the sofa. She eyed the intruding garment as it settled by her shoulder, her eyebrow lifting. For a moment it was like looking in a mirror.

When had she started doing that?

He opened the pouch and let the stack of books thud heavily on the coffee table. She was entirely unperturbed by the noise, choosing instead to continue reading the book in her lap. Annoyed, Severus folded the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, the room far too hot for his liking. As much as he could appreciate the Room he preferred the coolness of the dungeons.

'Well?' He huffed, his arms folding across his chest.

'I still haven't worked out what artefact of Godric Gryffindor's he could have used, but I did find this for Rowena Ravenclaw.' She flipped back a few pages. 'And there upon her head sat a circlet of silver and sapphires, an outward sign of her nobility and strength. It's talking about her daughter, but it reminded me of the old stories about the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. What if the stories were true? What if the Diadem really existed?'

He drummed his fingers against his bicep, mulling it over. 'It is possible, but if the stories are true then the Diadem has been missing for generations.'

'As was Slytherin's Locket, and yet the Dark Lord managed to find it all the same. It's not out of the realm of possibility that he managed to track down the Diadem as well.'

'No,' he agreed. 'It's not.'

Granger sighed. 'Every time I feel like we're getting somewhere we just take one step back. D'you know I spent my whole summer researching Horcruxes and lore and we're still no further ahead.'

'It'll come,' he assured her.

She closed the book, looking up at last. Her eyes widened and he self-consciously realised she was staring at the pale skin of his forearms. A pretty pink blush spread across her cheekbones, blending in with the newly formed scars, and she averted her gaze to the stack of books he had set on the table. She sat up a little straighter, her curiosity piqued.

'What are these?'

Oddly grateful for her sudden shift in attention, he drew his finger across the first book before dropping it into her lap. 'Your studies for the next several weeks.'

She was entirely predictable in the way she practically bounced in her seat as she flipped through the contents. 'You're really going to tutor me then?'

'I am nothing if not a man of my word,' he stated, sitting down on the sofa next to her. She had kicked off her shoes and her stocking foot brushed against his outer thigh. He glared down at the offending appendage. 'Comfortable, Miss Granger?'

The blush had returned, spreading down her neck beneath the collar of the heavy wool jumper she wore. 'I'm sorry, I was only — I mean—' Hastily she sat up, her knee knocking into his in her hurried state, the books tumbling down towards the floor. He lunged forward to catch them.

'Please don't be cross,' she breathed.

It was then that he realised he was glowering at her. With a deep sigh, Severus leant back against the sofa, laying an arm across his eyes. He was in a foul mood, and it wasn't Granger's fault. Old habits meant that he was quick to take his anger out on her, but it wasn't good enough.

'Is everything alright, Professor?'

'No. Not even close.' His arm dropped to his stomach, clutching at the uneasiness building there. 'Is it true the Muggle-born students are being harassed?'

She snorted softly. 'Harassment would be putting it kindly.'

'Why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'You mean before or after you kicked me out of your office?'

Severus turned to glare at her, only to see a sheepish smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. 'Sorry. Truthfully, I didn't realise it myself until… well,' she gestured at the angry wounds on her face. 'All those students I've tutored, and still I didn't see what was right in front of me. They've bullied a first-year. Only one that I know of, but there's bound to be others.'

The thought of it turned the acid in his stomach. 'And we've left them without defences,' he remarked painfully. 'It's my fault.'

'Don't do that,' she said forcefully. 'At least they're here. There is hope for them yet.'

He doubted that. Children were being tormented under his care and there was nothing he could do to help them. The weight of the situation smothered him. 'What are you going to do, start a campaign for them? They aren't your next project. How do you expect to protect everyone when you can't even protect yourself.'

Her expression turned dark, and she opened her mouth before closing it with a snap, her teeth audibly jarring together. She stood up, tossing the books onto the pile as she moved over to one of the windows with her back to him. He could practically hear her rage from across the room.

Fuck.

Severus dragged his hands down his face. It had barely been a fortnight since their truce and she was already cross with him.

'Granger…'

'No, you're right. You're always bloody right,' she retorted. 'I'm weak.'

'I never said that.'

'But it's true. The others think it, at least.'

The doubt and loathing in her voice were something he knew too well. It frustrated him that a witch as talented as she could think so little of herself. 'Since when have you cared what others think?'

Her shoulders slumped. 'The night they moved Harry from his aunt and uncle's… they wouldn't let me help. They said I was too fragile and incapable. A liability.'

Severus sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers curling around the armrest of the sofa to steady himself. The sheer violence of the evening flashed like lighting in his mind, the imprint of the Potter-substitute, he now knew had been Ginny Weasley, tumbling down through the air.

'They are imbeciles,' he told her sharply.

Granger turned then, leaning her head against the wall. Her expression was unreadable. 'They weren't wrong though. I'm always one spell away from death. I had a heart attack the night Dumbledore died.'

'As are we all,' he countered. 'That doesn't make you a liability. Enough of this melodrama, it's rather unbecoming of you. If they can't see how brilliant you are then it's their loss.'

The words tumbled from his mouth before he could give it a second thought. Severus stilled, the crackling fire sounding abnormally loud. Granger chewed on her bottom lip. She seemed to be considering his words, staring through him as though she was the one who possessed the skill of Legilimency. Once again he felt the unrelenting tug of magic behind his navel; the yearning need to slip into her mind.

'I want to learn more about the Dark Arts,' she said, her voice no louder than a whisper.

He felt heat under his collar that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room. 'Why?'

Why. Not no.

It should have been a no. He should have thrown her out the second she suggested it. But the darkness in his belly opened one eye and began to unravel at her request.

'Because Defence isn't enough. You said yourself I'll likely face the Death Eaters alone again, if not the Dark Lord himself. I want to know what I'm up against.'

You always were an adept teacher, Severus.

'And… I have a confession to make about that night… The night they retrieved Harry. It's part of the reason I'm here, instead of there.'

The tell-tale coolness of paranoia trickled through his veins. So he was right — she had been lying when she had said she'd returned for him. 'Well spit it out.'

She flinched at his briskness, looking down at the hem of her jumper where her fingers had found a loose thread. One of these days she was going to unravel her clothes completely.

'I stayed behind at the Burrow with Mrs Weasley while they all flew out. It was… agonising.'

He snorted at the thought of Granger being forced to sit patiently and sip tea with the matron who had probably been beside herself with anxiety over a safe return of her brood. Granger shot him a look before returning to worry the thread on her jumper.

'Harry and Hagrid returned first. Then Lupin and Ginny.' Her eyes flickered up to his. 'Lupin said she was caught in the crossfire and was hit by your curse.'

Severus froze in anticipation. 'My hood—'

Granger nodded. 'Yeah. He said it had fallen off. I'm going to make the bold assumption that you didn't intend to hit Ginny— or, well, Harry.'

His eyebrows raised. 'You think I attacked Lupin?' He enquired, treading carefully.

She let go of the thread to pick at her thumbnail. 'Honestly? I don't know.'

'Would it bother you if I had?' He pushed, because he just couldn't leave it alone, could he? The bitter taste of her earlier transgression still lingered.

She stopped her fidgeting and stood up straighter. 'He accused me of being loyal to you. Remus saw right through me when I didn't leave with Harry and Ron. He knew I was coming back for you, even when I denied it.'

Pride and something thick and cloying he couldn't name swelled inside him. He didn't need Legilimency to see she was telling the truth; it was etched in the tilt of her head and the way her chin jutted just so.

He realised then their summer apart had been a test. It had always been a test.

Wasn't it exactly what he had wanted since the moment she had entered his office begging of support? A weapon to sharpen and craft as his own, to kneel and bend to his will. This thing between them had warped into a living, breathing being that drew them together again and again, but still after everything Granger was his. Not Potter's, but his.

The thought was intoxicating.

Was this what Dumbledore had felt that night on the hill when Severus had laid his cards on the table and pledged his life for the old wizard's cause?

Severus settled back into the sofa, his arms coming to rest along the back. 'As enlightening as this is, I somehow doubt that is the nature of your confession.'

As if drawn by the same magnetic pull, Granger returned to him, perching on the opposite armrest. She had begun picking at the skin around her thumbnail again and he could see now it was raw and swollen.

'Ginny was in a bad way, you see. But Tonks and Lupin wouldn't help her.' Her face had grown pale. 'They kept saying the curse couldn't be healed without knowing the proper counter-curse.'

He swallowed thickly against the lump forming in his throat. They wouldn't have been able to find the counter-curse because there wasn't one. He had tried on multiple occasions to develop a spell that would cease the bleeding, but he had never succeeded, which was to be expected when working with dark magic — some things were just not meant to be undone. On the few occasions he needed to reverse the damage, the only thing that worked was a balancing spell. It was exhausting and incredibly dangerous, as it literally drained the life force from the caster, but effective all the same.

'Lupin has dabbled in enough Dark Arts to be able to work out a solution, and Nymphadora is a skilled Auror,' he commented, rubbing at the hint of stubble forming on his jaw. 'If they didn't heal her, then who did?'

Granger's hair swung forward, the thick curtain of curls shadowing her face. 'That's what I wanted to tell you about, Professor. It was me.'

Severus' heart gave a heavy thud, his jaw going slack as he stared at the girl. 'You? But how?'

She scratched furiously at the back of her hand, her fingernails leaving angry red welts in their wake. 'That's just the thing. I didn't use a spell. It was more like a feeling.' She pulled her jumper down over the marks. 'My magic sensed Ginny's magic. I don't really know how it happened.'

Christ. He didn't know whether to throttle her or praise her.

He shifted closer to her on the sofa. 'Tell me what you did,' he demanded. 'Exactly what you did.'

She sucked in a breath of air, seeming to shrink in on herself.

'Miss Granger.'

'It was stupid, I know that now. I'm fairly certain I was lectured by every Order member at least once. But it was the right thing to do, even Lupin agreed in the end.' She brushed her hair back behind her ear and shifted on her perch on the sofa arm, her stocking-clad foot digging into one of the cushions. 'I remembered how Harry told me you had healed Malfoy using a song. It was weighted magic, wasn't it? You were balancing the scales.'

Pride quickly won over anger. 'I'm glad to see our lessons haven't gone to waste after all.'

She shuddered. 'Blood magic is dreadfully ghoulish. How could I forget so easily?'

'Indeed.' He stretched his legs out in front of him, his ankles crossed as he steepled his hands under his chin. 'So you worked out that payment was required. Blood would have been the obvious choice then, except that unlike the spell that gave you those wounds on your face the spell I had crafted was born out of a deficit of life.'

Granger visibly preened at this, a mischievous little smirk appearing. 'I told them blood would be far too crude.'

He arched an eyebrow to match her mood. 'If not blood, then what was your payment?'

'My own magic,' she replied, her bravado slipping. She must have noted the astonishment on his face, for she rushed out, 'but it worked. It stopped the bleeding.'

It worked all right. Without her quick thinking, it was likely that Ginny would have bled out, adding another tally mark against the impossibly long list of lives he had claimed. An overwhelming sense of gratitude washed through him.

'Sometimes I wonder if you're far too clever for your own good,' Severus said, leaning his head back against the sofa. The candles hanging from the ceiling glittered overhead, reminding him of the Great Hall. He recalled the awe of seeing the magnificent room that first night at the Sorting Feast at the impossibly young age of eleven. The sea of candles under the enchanted ceiling promised a world of magic and possibilities.

'She would be so disappointed in the man you've become.'

A stab of regret bitterly reminded him how it was on that very same evening that his life had changed forever.

'Without intervention, it is unlikely Miss Weasley would have survived,' he told her slowly. 'However, the use of the Dark Arts without control can be catastrophic.'

'The Slytherins appear to be managing just fine,' she muttered, digging her toes further into the cushions. Severus tried to ignore her actions and re-adjusted the cuffs of his shirt.

'What those dunderheads are teaching is nothing more than silly wand-waving. It's not the Dark Arts, not even by half,' he scoffed. The fire continued to crackle and he pulled out his pocket watch. It was nearly curfew and still, the others had yet to return from their place by Voldemort's side.

'Show me, then. Teach me.'

There was such thick yearning in her voice that his attention was instantly drawn back to her. Her brown eyes were electric; all hint of mischief was gone. He felt his mouth go dry and there was the familiar tug of her mind pulling him in as her emotions rose quickly to the surface.

There was so much anger. Anger towards herself for leaving Potter behind. Towards Gregory Goyle for laying the curse that marred her face, and the other Slytherins for tormenting the Muggle-borns. Anger at Dolohov for the way his hand had brushed along her hip as he hauled her from the Hogwarts Express.

Severus shut his eyes, his hands balled in his lap.

The only noise in the room seemed to be Granger's shallow breath.

'You don't know what you're asking.'

'I do,' she challenged. 'I've spent enough time around you to recognise the risks.'

Dolohov's hand on her hip would forever be burned into his psyche. He took a slow breath to temper his own anger.

'This isn't a game, Granger. There is a reason Dumbledore removed the Dark Arts from the curriculum.' He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her lips parted. Her anger still simmered just below the surface. He could empathise with her, for he too had felt the suffocating pain of the world pressing in around him. There was nothing fair about the situation she had been placed in. She deserved so much more than the cards she had been dealt.

As did he.

Perhaps it was the understanding of shared pain and frustration that continually brought them together — a kindred longing to become more than what was expected of them.

'I can handle it, sir.'

He shook his head. 'It is not a question of your capabilities, but rather of your soul. The darkness is a living, breathing entity. It feeds on your fears and anxieties, seeking out the secrets you keep close to your chest and projecting them into the world. Little by little it will consume you, twisting your intentions until you no longer know what you stood for.'

Granger slowly slid off the armrest onto the sofa beside him, her hand coming to rest close to his shoulder as she knelt in rapt attention. 'It's worth it.'

No. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was. The long nights spent in agonising despair, the loss of friendships and those whom he held most dear.

Except—

Except he saw himself reflected back in her eyes. The dark smudges and hollowed look, the yearning need for more and the realisation hit him.

'You felt it,' he stated.

She flinched away from him, the hand by his shoulder dropping into her lap as she rocked back on her heels. 'I don't know what you mean.'

Severus grasped her chin, angling her head back towards him before she could look away.

Oh, Hermione.

She could deny it all she wanted, but he had spent too long around the darkness to ignore it. Her hand closed around his wrist but she didn't fight him.

'How long?' He asked, struggling to keep his voice even and quiet less he spooked her.

'How—?'

'The auditory hallucinations, how long? Since you healed Miss Weasley?' Her fingers tightened reflexively, and his heart sunk.

Granger pushed him away then, backing up against the side of the sofa to put as much space between them as possible. She drew her knees against her chest.

'I– they—'

'I implore you to think carefully before you speak,' he warned her. 'Whatever you've felt, the things you might have heard, they are part of you now. Ignoring them will not make it go away.'

She bit down on the inside of her lip, the turmoil clear on her face. 'Professor…'

The key hanging under his shirt grew icy and he pressed his hand to his chest, hissing in pain. Severus leapt off the sofa and pulled his robes around him in a flurry. Granger looked mildly shell-shocked.

'Professor, what's wrong?' She asked, the worry in her voice tugging at him. 'Is it your Mark? Have you been summoned?'

He fastened the clasp at his throat and brushed his hands down the length of black fabric, ensuring everything was in place. He took a final breath to steady himself. 'It'll be curfew soon. You'd better get back to your dorms before you're found.'

'But sir—'

'Do as I say. Go now,' he urged. 'And Granger,' she looked up like a deer caught in headlights. 'This conversion isn't over.'

He needed to find Draco. The spoiled brat had some explaining to do.

Severus strode through the castle towards the Entrance Hall, his robes billowing behind him. His head was still racing from his conversation with Granger. There was no doubt in his mind that she was experiencing lasting effects from healing Ginny Weasley. But how deep the darkness's claws had gone was harder to judge. In the few conversations they partook in since her return she had always appeared of sound mind, but he knew how little that counted: the Dark Arts affected everyone differently. He had good reasons for not teaching Granger Occlumency. She was too emotionally charged to keep herself in check, and that put her at higher risk.

He was so lost in thought he knocked into someone at the top of the Grand staircase.

'Good evening to you too, sir,' Draco gasped, clutching precariously onto the sleeve of Severus' robes as he tried to right himself.

'You little shit,' Severus seethed, grabbing the boy by his shoulders and yanking him back up the stairs. He bodily shoved him against the wall. 'Why didn't you inform me you had been summoned.'

Draco paled. 'There was no time,' he grunted. 'I stumbled into Amycus in the dungeons and apparated with the Carrows. Ease up, will you?'

Severus gave him another shove before letting go of his robes. 'Where are the others now?'

'You're stronger than you look, you know that?' Draco commented dryly, rubbing at his shoulder. 'Who would have thought it under all that fabric? No actually,' he squeezed his eyes shut, 'that's a mental picture I could do without.'

The urge to push the Malfoy heir down the stairs was strong. 'Answer the question before I toss you to the Dementors.'

Draco eyed him uncomfortably. 'Your sense of humour really is messed up, sir.' He sighed. 'They're still there. The Dark Lord graciously let me return to the castle in time for curfew.'

'And you call my humour dark? I presume your father was in attendance?'

'Yes. Nearly everyone was there, except for Aunt Bella and Dolohov. Apparently, they're on some kind of secret mission.'

Severus digested this as he leant on the marble railing overlooking the Entrance Hall. It was past curfew now and Hogwarts had fallen quiet with only the occasional creak coming from the suits of armour. The cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

'Has he given you the order not to discuss the evening with me?' When he was met with silence he peered over his shoulder to find Draco fidgeting. 'Fuck,' he growled, running his hands through his hair.

'You're nothing but a pawn.' Lucius had told him. 'And we all know pawns are the first to go.'

As always, his old friend was better at reading between the lines and sensing the political shifts in the situation. What had sounded like a scathing remark at the time was a veiled warning and Severus' judgement had been too preoccupied with Granger to notice.

'Ah… Professor. The Dark Lord requested I deliver this to you.' Draco was holding out a scroll sealed with a Dark Mark in green wax. A shiver ran down Severus' spine as he accepted it.

Severus,

I required two cauldrons supply of Liquid Lamorteum, to be ready in exactly a fortnight. Master Malfoy will bring it to me once completed.

Do not fail me.

He swayed on the spot, grabbing the railing as his knees threatened to buckle under him.

'Sir?'

'Leave me,' Severus croaked.

'Are you sure? You don't look too well.'

'Go.'

Severus lowered himself down to the floor, his back aching where it pressed against the cold marble. His vision started to darken around the edges; the world becoming a deafening roar in his ears.

Liquid Lamorteum. He knew the potion well — it was one of the first Voldemort had requested him to brew when he had taken his mark at the tender age of seventeen. At the time, he had almost been proud to show off his talents in Potions. Now it was a cruel reminder of his place in the world.

It was especially difficult to brew, needing nearly constant supervision and meticulous attention to detail. The outcome was a brilliant poison that was undetectable but would burn the quarry from the inside out, boiling their organs in its wake. It was by far the worst of all the potions he had brewed for Dumbledore and the Dark Lord through the years. The thought of it caused thick bile to rise in his throat until he pressed a fist to his mouth.

The potion only required a few drops at most to be effective and Voldemort wanted two cauldrons. Merlin, how many more deaths would Severus be responsible for before the war was done? He hung his head in his hands, the searing heat from Granger's brown eyes burning into his soul.

Together, she had promised. But would she still want him when she learned of his impossible task?

Author's Note:

Thank you for your continued support, I'm always blown away by your kind comments!

Playlist:
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