Holly

BANG.

The door slam echoed through the web of empty dungeon corridors. It pleased her. She'd done it to emphasise her point - which was that she was going to leave without him - should he not come on her terms. Holly did not try to lighten her footfalls as she all but ran up to Gryffindor tower, invisibility cloak streaming behind her.

He'd shirked her idea again, carefully sidestepping with excuses about timing, risks, responsibilities, blah blah. Didn't he get it? There is never going to be a good time. The sooner the hunt starts, the sooner this war could end.

If ever it would…

In truth, she hadn't meant to be that dramatic. She only left because she was about to throw a cauldron at him. And she had to admit, her leaving did accidentally turn into a rather realistic metaphor for what she'd do if he chose to keep on wasting her time. But even so, Holly couldn't shake the feeling that he would carry her rather 'spirited' departure as a grudge. She knew Severus to be slow to forget and even slower to forgive.

Screw that. Let him hate me. I'm the one who should be forgiving him. Besides, I had to make him see I'm serious.

So she left. Without wishing him goodnight. Without even looking over her shoulder to see what she knew would be a pained expression. No. It was better not to. Looking back could only have cracked her resolve.

As she snuck past the many portraits watching over the moving staircase, she kept telling herself that it was the right thing to do. They both knew what was at stake. They both knew what had to be done. The time for hiding was over. Now was the time to be brave.

And he's being a stick in the bloody mud.

Underneath the anger, she knew she was likely almost as unreasonable as he was. But she was just so tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of waiting. Tired of letting others decide for her.

She stumbled up the last steps, bundling her cloak into her bag and pointedly ignoring the Fat Lady's shrill reprimands for entering at this 'unholy' hour.

Secretly she hoped Severus would just let her go. It would mean one more person that would die because of her. One more Voldemort would use to get to her.

After catching her breath, she packed her most important belongings onto her bed. A few sets of warm clothes, a coat, boots, comb, ornate mirror, the perfume she got for Christmas, her Gringrotts key, a small spyglass, and a few other knick-knacks.

Is this really all I have worth taking?

She shoved the lot into a duffel and tried not to think of the Firebolt locked up in Umbridge's horrible pink office.

The ring caught on a sweater and she tore it from her finger, fully intending to throw it in the chaotic abyss of her trunk. But Holly found herself staring at the fine details instead. The carved wings holding the gleaming stone made her heart soften and she slid it gently back over her finger again. She traced the blood-stone and sighed, feeling confused by all she had to do. All she had to consider. It was simply overwhelming.

He won't let me go alone.

He said as much. She shook her head and kicked the bag into hiding underneath the bed.

Just another person willing to sacrifice themselves for me. But I won't let him.

She brushed her teeth forcefully, architecting a new plan.

666666

Severus

'Is that Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Harpies?' Severus asked, feigning disbelief and pointing at the door behind his old Potion's Master. How he despised doing this, but there was no other way. He barred all guilt from his mind as Slughorn turned quickly to see if his old student and Slug Club member was indeed also here in the Knockturn Pub. Severus slipped his wand tip from his sleeve and murmured 'Obliviate,' concentrating the spell on the wizard's broad back.

Just a few minutes later, he swept up the steps from the pub, allowing his self-loathing full reigns as he fled through the fine falling snow. It was quiet in the Alley, as Severus had expected a Wednesday evening after the new year festivities to be. He had taken care to set up the meeting so as not to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

When Horace had first entered the pub Severus respectfully waited for what seemed like a little eternity before joining him at his table for a quick visit. He had congratulated Slughorn on his publication in the latest edition of the British Journal of Potion Craft and then engaged him in small talk concerning Hogwarts.

Of course, this was as spontaneous a meeting as the annual Hogwarts board meeting: He'd sent a forged invitation to his old Potion's Master after learning from Dumbledore that Slughorn was key in finding out more about the Horcruxes. The invite masqueraded as coming from one Mandungus Fletcher, giving word to Slughorn that he'd had recently come by a fresh stock of very rare venomous Tentacula leaves. Naturally, Severus had only guessed at Slughorn being (however superficially) involved in the illicit trade of rare ingredients - but was relieved Horace showed up for the meeting. Having a fair number of dealings with shady characters himself, it was a guess he was not particularly proud of. Then again, how could a true potioneer refuse a stock of such precious ingredients? As a practitioner himself, he knew Slughorn would be hard-pressed to resist such a deal.

After he obliviated the wizard and coerced him to give him any information he had about the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes, Severus told him that he was feeling tired and wished to go home. He gave him two boxes of venomous tentacula leaves and impressed upon him that the deal went well. So well, in fact, that he bought the lot for four Galleons each instead of the ten they usually went for. His guilt had Severus pay for Slughorn's drink too. To avoid any possible suspicion, he tipped the barman well and joked offhandedly that the grog had gone straight to the old man's head.

Severus turned into the main street, made sure he was alone, and apparated to Hogsmeade. He did not wait for the familiar brush of vertigo to subside before setting off toward the castle, boots crushing in the thick snow and wind pulling at his hair and cloak.

But the hollow feeling in his gut was more than vertigo. More than guilt. Tricking Slughorn and subjecting him to an unforgivable was, to his mind, forgivable, when considering the fate of the wizarding world should the Dark Lord remain unchallenged. His hollowness ran deeper. It had started after Christmas when Holly last left him standing staring after her like a fool. Only moments before, she'd pitched a detailed plan about how he was supposed to 'die' and left abruptly after he'd blown it apart - again. She had not even looked back. He realised she did this to give him a taste of what she would do if he refused her invitation to join her mad hunt and he cursed himself for treating the conversation so carelessly. He should have asked polite questions, even though he thought her idea was …wildly inappropriate… And besides the flawed method, the timing was flawed too. Holly felt like it would be more opportune to elope before the whole school, including Umbridge, came back after the New Year.

Severus tried to explain that he needed time to brew potions that they would likely need on their journey. Time to gather information - such as he just forced from Slughorn. However, he had to admit, this distance did grant him the freedom to commit such crimes without answering to her. Or anyone else.

If they find my wand now, I would be spending more than a few years in Azkaban. Better I act alone. Better that she is angry.

For now.

He worried a hand through his tousled hair. Does she expect me to crawl back on my knees like some house-elf? … Will she even accept me again?

His mind reeled, heart aching and savagely hoping that she hurt as he did. Hoping too that she still performed the ring and Occlumency exercises and that she continued drinking the potions he had brewed her.

Would she dare spite us both by forgoing the birth-control brew?

He knew he was bordering being irrational, but she has proved near impossible to control. Impossible to predict. She had no idea what she asked him to sacrifice. His role as a double spy would be beached. Dumbledore and the Order would be fighting blind. How many years had cementing that role cost him? The blood and sweat it took to build the lies. The pain. Was she truly worth the trade? Did he trust the witch with his life? With everything he had created? With his heart? He found himself hard pressed to trust the witch that abandoned him in such a hurry more than a week ago.

Without Lily. Without Holly. My heart is rotten.

Severus still stared at his boots as he crested the final hill separating him from the shadowy smudge that was Hogwarts.

666666

Holly

Slowly, the snow started clearing up, the icy winds abated, and here and bluebells started pushing through the remaining snowbanks. An almost tangible excitement enveloped the Castle and its residents at the prospect of spring. Holly shared none of this. Quidditch had started back up - and she was banned. Tests were being scheduled mercilessly, and essays were due for almost every class.

For the remainder of the Holidays, she'd avoided the Great Hall like the plague and took to flirting her meals off elves in the kitchens instead of going to any official mealtimes. It was easy enough to sneak down with the invisibility cloak and Dobby was only too happy to help her fill up a plate or smuggle sandwiches to her dormitory when she asked. After a few days, she'd (childishly) put in a bulk order for a spread of candy from Honey Duke's to keep her tummy from rumbling and her mind from wandering toward food the entire time. It was almost like living in the cupboard under the stairs again…

Today was the first day of the new semester. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were back. And that meant she could dare to attend mealtimes again. That had also meant Potions. And detention with Severus.

Potions had been difficult enough, but she knew detention would be far worse. He had tried to meet her eyes once when handing her a marked report from last semester. But she'd ignored his pincer-like obsidian gaze and instead pretended to read through her marks as avidly as Hermoine was doing. He was tense when the class entered, but after that small interaction - he was pissed. Very soon after, he'd chucked Neville out of the classroom by his collar and even barked at some of his favourite Slytherins. He proceeded to give them an unnecessary amount of homework and stalked through the room, robes billowing, criticising every potion or slightly messy workspace. Severus did not visit Holly's cauldron at all but made Ron start over thrice. Even as he was vehemently reprimanding Ron next to her, she still refrained from sparing Severus a single glance.

Yeah, of course, it was juvenile, but her aloofness got him riled up as nothing could, and she callously drank in his obvious frustration, without thinking of possible consequences. When they were finally saved by the bell, the class trooped out, silent as a grave. Ron's ears still burned scarlet. As soon as the Gryffindors emerged from the dungeons, they started speculating quietly about who exactly pissed in Professor Snape's morning pumpkin juice. Hermione seemed to think Severus had received a bag of dung for Christmas. Holly laughed bitterly because she was almost right. He'd been snubbed for Christmas.

It was seven now, and time for detention. Umbridge had made sure she reminded Holly of her detention with Severus in front of the entire Defence class. Knowing about his particularly foul mood today, the rest of the class seemed genuinely sorry for her. She could see Umbridge relishing in the thought of sending her to the Dungeon that she, and the rest of her peers, so clearly dreaded.

Holly's feet dragged as she made her way down to the dungeons. It was the first time detention with Severus felt like a real punishment. Potions with a packed class were one thing. This was entirely another. She had no desire to experience his wrath twice in one day - especially after managing to avoid him so splendidly during the holidays.

She knocked once and slipped inside even though there was no answer. His office was dark and cold. A single torch burned above the corner workstation. It seemed neater than the last time she'd been here. She stepped deeper into the room.

'Professor?' Nothing. He wasn't here.

Her spirits lifted a tad. Perhaps he forgot. A small mercy.

The door swung open behind her.

'I see you let yourself in,' his icy tone made her heart twist. 'Professor Umbridge just delayed me to discuss your detention for this semester. She has many ideas,' he fell silent, circling her like prey.

When he drifted into her field of vision, her mouth almost fell open. It was the first time she truly looked at him since Christmas. He looked wretched. His skin was drawn, sickly white, and his eyes blacker than ever. Her heart wanted to melt at the sight of his clearly desperate state. Severus sneered at her expression and she quickly reigned in her expression.

'Sorry… Professor. And I'm sure you'll give me a hard time without her help.'

Ice trickled down her back at that burning gaze. He turned his back on her and seated himself behind a stack of ungraded papers. 'Get started with the cauldrons. You will find everything you need by the sink,' he stated stiffly, black hair obscuring his downturned face. She turned away as he started scribbling on essays with his hawk feather quill. 'No magic,' he added to her back, voice softer. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to make a quip. His defenses were up, but he seemed vulnerable and worn compared to this morning's Potions lesson.

This coldness surprised her, she hadn't realised she'd hurt him this bad. It's not as if he sought her out after Christmas to ask her forgiveness. What was she to do? Stare longingly after him in the middle of class? Tug at his sleeve and apologise as he was shitting all over Ron's third potion? Holly snorted softly to herself, although a small part of her felt regret for this setting the snowball of hurt into motion.

Let it be like this then.

She wandered over to the heap of dirty cauldrons and rolled up her sleeves, selecting a relatively clean copper one to start with. For the next who-knows-how-long, she scrubbed burnt, moldy, and mysteriously crusty cauldrons with a steel brush and gloves her Professor had so generously left her. He must have saved his tower of mucky cauldrons from every lesson he taught today. All especially for her. She was almost flattered.

Her uniform was soaked and sweat ran into her eyes when she finally took a break, sitting on an upturned cauldron to catch her breath and re-tie her hair. As she fought to stuff her wild curls back into her hair tie, she felt his presence draw near. She had not heard him push back his chair. Holly turned to peer up at his towering black form. His lips were tightly set, eyes glittering like coals above sharp cheekbones. 'Nineteen left to go, Princess,' he purred. Holly gave up on her hair, slipping the scrunchie over her wet wrist instead and throwing her tangled hair over one shoulder.

'I knew you were going to make me pay,' she said, bristling. 'I knew you'd be angry.'

'You do not know me at all,' he said quietly.

'Oh yeah? You know I only left because I was this close to throwing a cauldron at you, right?' She held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny amount.

He raised a brow, 'That easy to hate me, is it?'

Taken aback by his directness, she stuttered, 'I–I don't –'

'Save it. You showed me what you think of me.'

'You didn't want to listen. You just made excuses. But it doesn't matter, I know better now,' she would not tell him about her new plan.

He drew closer, carefully folding his arms across his buttoned chest. She knew a moment of fear. Or was it anticipation? His formidable size. The smell of ink, herbs and something metallic. But his face was contorted with distaste, and she knew this would not go where her body wanted it to go.

'Seems like you hate me too,' she snapped.

'So you admit it,' he said, nostrils flaring slightly, 'I am not punishing you. Professor Umbridge is,' he noted airily. 'If it were up to me, I would not have forced you back.'

'You were furious when I didn't look at you earlier today,'

He narrowed his eyes at her, choosing his words carefully. 'A lapse in judgment, I am sure you are able to empathise,' he released his arms to his sides, fists clenching.

'Yeah. Well. If you want me to apologise for the door, I won't. I just wanted you to listen to me,'

'You wanted me to leave everything I have built to follow a half-baked plan, Holly, I merely questioned it.'

'That's all you do. Poking holes in everything. Questioning and not contributing at all.'

'You have no idea,' he said softly, looking down on her with contempt. His posture did not change, but she felt his anger vibrating around them. 'I should not even tell you this… but I have new information,' he frowned strangely as if he'd just gone against his own will.

Holly stood up, folding her arms across her body to try and hide her soaked shirt. His eyes flicked to her chest and his mouth twisted as if tasting something sour. She became terribly aware of the wet material clinging to her bralette. The look on his face made her cheeks burn.

Does he really think my shirt's wet on purpose?

'What is it?' She asked, trying not to show her annoyance at his idiocy or eagerness for the news.

'You left me,' his hard expression weakened, hand twitching against his thigh, 'just like that,' he whispered as if he could not believe it. Hurt softened his angular features for a terrible moment.

Holly reached out to him, but he shrank back from her touch, 'Sev… I-I was angry. I tried to make you see. But I have to go search for those damned things…' she faltered at the end, unsure of how to handle this change in him without making it worse. It was easier when he was seething.

Without thinking, she stepped into his personal space, 'Please,' she hugged him hard, pressing herself against his body and pouring her own pain into him. And, she realised too late, making him wet with dirty dishwater as well. He stood like a column of black marble, staring straight ahead. He did not give in to her, but he did not push her away either.

'I spoke with Slughorn,' he said, after just a few heartbeats. He reached down to pry her arms away from him. Holly looked up at his carefully blank face, straightening her glasses. It was her turn to hurt.

He could have just as well pushed me away.

His words took a moment to sink through the tempest of her emotions. 'Slughorn was his teacher, wasn't he? Does he know about the Horcruxes?' she hugged herself, his body had warmed her… but now the wet material made her shiver anew.

'There are…' he paused, fear evident in his tired eyes, 'Five. They will most likely be objects of import. Sentimental. Hidden in… places special to him,' he seemed hesitant to speak as if he did not trust her. 'Two have been destroyed so far. The diary, and Dumbledore's ring,'

'Bloody hell,' Holly involuntarily quoted Ron. 'How on earth will we find the rest?'

'Trace the Dark Lord's past,' Severus murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'Now. Get on with your task,' he pointed at the cauldrons stacked by the sink. Holly searched his face, but all traces of softness was gone. Only the sharp edges of scorn remained.