Chapter 21

It would ordinarily take Minerva about ten minutes to make the round trip to Gryffindor Tower from her office, but she had been gone for over an hour. The damned Goblet was probably stopping her every few steps. Severus knew that she had the mental discipline required, but her heart was too weak. Maybe he should try to fetch the boy himself? He stood up with that intention, but he immediately knew that it would take him ten times longer than Minerva, assuming he ever managed to get there. He might hate Potter, but the habit of protecting him ran too deep.

Perhaps it was for the best if Minerva didn't manage to bring the boy. Severus might not care much about his own life, but he wasn't really looking forward to dying. Part of him —probably his Slytherin instinct of self-preservation— wanted to call this entire madness off and go to bed. Because he knew, he just knew, that he was about to die.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

I deserve to die.

Severus owed Lily one life, so he couldn't complain that it had come the time to pay that debt. He supposed that he had gotten James bloody Potter killed too, but he felt more inclined to believe that the jerk had owed Severus a great deal and had paid a fraction of that debt with his life, so they were partially even. Only partially.

He took another deep breath, and let it out.

His life was a well deserved torment. He had only carried on living after Lily's death because he had understood that he owed that to her. And because it was his punishment. He had not been allowed to die as long as her son needed protection, and of course he had to die in a last desperate attempt to protect the brat. Both his life and death revolved around Lily's son, it was only fair.

That didn't make it easy, on the contrary. It was unbearable to think that he was giving up his life for James Potter's spawn. His only comfort was that if Severus died the brat was likely to die as well.

He snorted. For someone so intelligent as Severus was, he really could be absurdly irrational.

Why did he even bother thinking about this? His decision was made. Potter dying was not amongst the possibilities Severus could accept for as long as he breathed, so there wasn't really any choice. Even though the boy didn't deserve Severus' sacrifice nor help. This wasn't for him, it had never been.

He couldn't care less about the brat.

When the office's door finally opened and Minerva walked in followed by the boy, Severus felt relieved and terrified in equal parts. It looks like I might get to die tonight, just great.

There was a triumphant but exhausted expression on his colleague's face, and when he raised an eyebrow at her she returned him a look that clearly said not to even mention the delay. Well, he supposed it was good to know that Minerva had been able to affect somehow Potter under the pretence of helping Severus, even if it had taken her a while and considerable mental effort. With any luck (or bad luck, whispered the part of him that didn't want to die), she would be able to officiate as Bonder too.

The innocent confusion in the boy's face quickly turned to wariness and resentment as soon as he caught sight of Severus. Ungrateful brat! Here he was, about to sacrifice his life for him, and he dared looking at him that way. Severus tried to remind himself that the boy didn't yet know what he intended to do, but some part of him didn't care. Potter had never shown him the proper respect, he thought himself above all rules, had no manners whatsoever, and walked around obviously convinced that he was entitled to whatever he wanted just because he had an ugly scar on his forehead.

Severus forced himself to take another deep breath. He was an expert Occlumens, capable of fooling both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore, surely he must be able to pretend he didn't completely hate Harry Potter for an hour or two.

Look at the eyes, he told himself. Eyes that were torture for him, but a good kind of torture compared to all the rest of the brat. This is about Lily. This is about saving her son.

Looking at the eyes wasn't helping, since the eyes were lost in a Potter frame, so finally Severus opted for turning his back on the boy and going to stand against the window. They had agreed with Minerva that the less Severus said the better it would be, anyway, since he couldn't be trusted not to snap at Potter every two words.

"Please sit down, Potter," said Minerva. "You are here because Professor Snape and I are concerned about your involvement in the Triwizard Tournament."

Severus could feel the boy's eyes on the back of his head, but didn't turn around.

"Will you... Will you take me out, Professor?" Potter asked, sounding naively hopeful.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Harry," said Minerva sadly. So much for trying to keep this professional, two seconds into the meeting and she was already addressing the brat by his given name. Weak old cat. "You are forced to compete, unfortunately. There is also the fact that you are not allowed to receive any sort of assistance. I don't know if you have already figured it out, but there is a powerful enchantment in the Goblet of Fire that prevents anyone from helping the champions."

There was a loud sigh.

"Yeah, I figured as much," said the boy bitterly. "Someone tried to give me advice last night, and couldn't. Today Hermione couldn't even lend me a book. It was weird."

"Indeed. It's called a Compulsion Charm, although it works in reverse dissuading any kind of help from reaching you. Since you have signed a magical contract with the Goblet of Fire, the enchantment will only turn off once the Triwizard Tournament is over. This means that you will have to face the tasks on your own." Minerva took a deep breath. "I will be frank, Potter. We don't think you can make it."

Severus turned around just in time to see the boy's face turning a shade of grey. And, once more, Severus noticed that he didn't look like James Potter at all when he was so afraid. Although it was sort of satisfactory to imagine the jerk looking this way.

"We know you don't lack courage, Harry," continued Minerva a bit more gently, "and that you have survived multiple life-threatening situations, but this is different. You will not be able to receive any help during the tasks, nor in preparation for them. And it's a fact that you are extremely young and have only had over three years of magical education. Even though there exists the slight chance that you might survive somehow, we believe that chance is next to null."

All right, Minerva might have a soft heart, but she certainly knew how to frighten a student out of his skin. Severus was pleased to see that she had not beaten around the bush.

Potter seemed to freak out for about a minute. Then he took a deep breath and let it out. When he spoke again, he didn't seem scared anymore, simply resigned. His hands had stopped shaking.

"So I will die?" he asked with unbelievable calm. Clearly having faced Death so many times had screwed up something inside the boy if he could look more steady than Minerva in this situation. Or perhaps his preservation instincts had always been off. That would explain a lot of things.

"Most likely," admitted Minerva, making a visible effort to control her face and her voice. "Professor Snape, however, is not inclined to accept that outcome, and has come up with a plan to, with any luck, overcome these limitations and help you through the Tournament."

Potter looked at Severus with doubt and mistrust plain in his eyes. It wasn't necessary to be a Legilimens to know that he thought Severus more inclined to poison him than to help him.

This was going to be difficult, to say the least.

"Why Snape?" predictably asked the boy.

"Professor Snape," corrected Minerva with a stern look, "is highly invested in your protection. He's also the only person willing to risk his life to do this, so I expect you will show him your respect."

Potter frowned but didn't comment. He was still looking at Severus with mistrust and calculation, as if trying to figure out what sort of trap he was being lured into. It was irritating, but Severus supposed it was only to be expected and even understandable, considering their history. He certainly wouldn't trust the brat with anything, especially not with his life.

If the boy couldn't trust him, however, this was doomed to fail.

"Professor Snape thinks there might be a way to counteract in some measure the effects of the Goblet by presenting it with an opposition of similar nature," continued Minerva. "What he intends to do, however, is extremely dangerous and could result in both your deaths this very night, which is why you will be given a choice."

Severus didn't bother voicing his objections. They had already argued a lot last night and all through Sunday, she knew exactly what he thought about it. Nothing that Minerva said would change his mind. He would do this no matter what the brat said.

Being informed about the possibility of dying in less than an hour —as if it made much of a difference in opposed to Tuesday—, the boy was instantly on high alert, and was now keeping a wary eye on Severus as if expecting a deadly attack from that direction at any moment.

"The danger arises from the fact that the Goblet of Fire seems to have some sort of defence mechanism," explained his colleague, "that is triggered if someone tries to interfere with the object. In the past, whenever someone tried to destroy it or defy it in any way, the champions instantly dropped dead as a result. Since what Professor Snape intends to do will probably be considered interference, that's what might happen to you tonight, Harry."

"Sounds like I will be the one dying, not Snape," pointed out the boy narrowing his eyes at him. "I would rather die on my own than killed by Professor Snape, Professor."

"I very much doubt that, Potter," said Severus softly, making a huge effort not to snap at the brat nor give him detention on his last day of life. "Dying during the Tournament will no doubt be a painful affair, I at least would make it quick."

Potter seemed to consider that, and to Severus' disbelief he finally sighed in defeat.

"Yeah, I guess that might be better," he admitted.

"Professor Snape does not mean to kill you, Potter," said Minerva seriously. "But we both agree in that it might be... merciful, if you simply dropped dead here tonight instead of dying in whatever way you are likely to die on Tuesday. In any case, Professor Snape has probably an even greater chance of dying doing this than you have."

The boy now looked at him with confusion and uncertainty.

"I don't understand, Professor. What exactly does Snape mean to do?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. He intends to swear an Unbreakable Vow."

"What's that?"

"An Unbreakable Vow is a magical promise that a wizard can do to another," explained Minerva. "If he breaks that promise, he simple dies. As it is another kind of magical contract, we are hoping it might be strong enough to offer the Goblet some opposition. Professor Snape thinks that if he vows to help you through the tournament he might be somewhat exempted from the Dispelling Charm that prevents anyone from helping you. However..." Minerva paused to look at Severus sadly. "However, since the Goblet makes impossible to help you, it is extremely likely that Professor Snape will die instantly upon sealing a vow that it's impossible to keep. Even if he survived tonight, he could die later at any moment, if he failed to keep you alive through the tournament or even if you were hurt at all, depending on what he managed to swear. Unbreakable Vows are tricky, dangerous things. We would not be considering it if there were any other option at all."

Severus had never seen Potter so at a loss.

"This doesn't make any sense," the boy said looking straight at him with green eyes that were definitely Lily's. "You hate me."

"So?" drawled Severus raising an eyebrow.

"So why would you be willing to risk your life to help me?"

"That's my business, Potter," he snapped.

"Is it because my dad saved your life once?"

The boy flinched under Severus' murderous glare.

"Your coward of a father did not save my life, Potter," he snarled. "He was just saving Black's neck. The fact that you're just like him is a reason to kill you with my own hands, not to protect you."

"Severus!" yelled Minerva in a loud, stern voice that reminded him of his days as a student. "In case you have forgotten, you need Harry's trust, so you better start doing something to win it instead of giving him more reasons to mistrust you."

"I'm willing to die for him, that ought to be reason enough for him to trust me," said Severus angrily. "Especially since he doesn't stand a chance of survival without my help."

Potter snorted.

"There's no way in hell I will ever trust you!" he sneered at Severus, gesturing at him as if he were something disgusting.

"Mr. Potter!" Now the boy flinched under his Head of House's angry gaze. "I believe I told you only a few minutes ago that you were to show proper respect to Professor Snape."

How did Minerva do that? Just a look and a few words and she suddenly had Potter completely subdued and looking genuinely remorseful and ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, not daring to meet his Head of House's eyes. He did dare to look at Severus. "I'm sorry, sir."

Severus was stunned. Had Potter... apologized? Not that an apology changed anything at all, the brat had still been disrespectful as ever, and no doubt he would continue being disrespectful as soon as Minerva looked away. It was still interesting to know that Potter could actually pronounce those words, and with a truly apologetic tone.

"It is not a secret that the two of you have never gotten along," said Minerva with admonishing looks at both of them, "but you will have to get over it for a few hours. Severus, this was your idea, and we already have enough variables against us to add Harry's mistrust to the mix. Make him trust you. As to you, Potter, if you have any wish to live, you better make an effort to stop mistrusting Professor Snape. He is a bitter man who could never let go of a youthful grudge, but he is willing to die for you and like he said that ought to be reason enough to trust him."

"What does it matter if I trust him?" asked Potter, clearly making an effort to sound respectful even though he still seemed skeptical about the possibility of trust ever existing between them.

"It's a requirement for the Vow, Harry," said Minerva. "The recipient needs to be able to trust the Vower, else the Vow will not take."

And wasn't that fortunate? If one could swear an Unbreakable Vow without trust from the Recipient, no doubt the Dark Lord would have demanded all his Death Eaters to swear eternal fealty to him. Severus was extremely relieved that his previous master had never trusted anyone enough.

That lucky aspect of the Vow was proving to be a problem now, though. Make him trust you, Minerva had said. Easier said than done.

The boy was looking at him with clear confusion.

"I just... I don't understand, Professor. You hate me."

Severus sighed. Make him trust you.

"I hated your father, Potter," he said. "You... you're so much like him. And you have annoyed the hell out of me since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts. You particularly irritate me by making hard to protect you, being a stupid Gryffindor and almost getting yourself killed on a regular basis. You nearly gave me heart attacks every year running into dangerous situations, and this year will be definitely worse if we don't die right here tonight." He took a deep breath. "I don't like you, Potter, but I don't need to like you to protect you."

Potter's confusion hadn't abated one bit, on the contrary.

"But why?" he asked. "Why would you want to protect me?"

"That's my business," he said firmly. "But no one else will put your safety over everything else, Potter. And no one is less likely to ever hurt you than I am."

The boy regarded him thoughtfully.

"You know, insults hurt," he finally said.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Insults are just words. And considering all the trouble I go through trying to keep you alive, I think I have earned the right to insult you in return as much as I want."

"You're always trying to get me expelled..." protested the brat.

"Yes, and if I had managed that, you would not have been about to die so many times in the last few years, and you would not be in this situation right now. If you can't trust me, then you can trust no one, Potter, that's how things are."

Potter didn't present any other arguments. He was still frowning at him, but now with more curiosity than mistrust.

"Well, you can continue working on trust later," said Minerva after several silent minutes. "First it has to be decided if this is going to be attempted at all. Professor Snape is determined to try, Potter, he is aware of the risk and is willing to brace it. You, however, can still refuse."

Judging by the nauseated expression that suddenly appeared in the boy's face, Potter had all but forgotten why he was here.

"You said that I will die without help," he pointed out after a moment, again sounding resignedly calm. "So it doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, Professor."

"We are not certain that you will die, Harry, since we don't know what you will be facing. There exists a chance, however slight, that you might survive on your own. If we tried Professor Snape's plan and it went wrong, you would lose that chance."

Potter lost himself in thought for a long minute. Finally, he looked up and pierced Severus with his unbearable eyes.

"How likely is that I will die if we try the Vow, Professor?"

Severus hesitated, but after a moment he decided to go for brutal honesty.

"Almost certain. It's an insane plan."

"But you still think I should risk it?"

"Yes. It will hurt less to die this way."

The boy nodded. He was still looking at him straight in the eye, which was having a really uncomfortable effect on Severus. Damned eyes!

"If I'm pretty much doomed anyway, perhaps you should save yourself, Professor," Potter said finally. "There's no reason for you to die too."

Severus could see the brat's mind settling for the most noble and stupid course of action.

"Don't you dare," he threatened. "Don't be a bloody Gryffindor. Just let me die for you, Potter."

"But..."

"I will make decisions about my own life, thank you."

He would be damned if he allowed the brat to decide what Severus could die for.

Potter sighed.

"All right," he said at last. "Let's die, then."