Chapter 50

Lily's bright green eyes bore into him with a strange mixture of pity and resentment.

"Did you really think you could make up for what you did, Sev?" she asked in a hard tone, her eyes sad but unyielding.

"I... I'm trying, Lily," he said lamely. "I gave it up, for you. Too late, I know, but I did..."

"That's a lie! You're still a Death Eater! And you like it, you can't deny it!"

"You never understood," he protested, frustration growing. "You never tried to understand."

"What's to understand? You're evil, Sev. And you killed me! There is no forgiveness for you, only punishment."

Her words resonated in the raw emptiness that was his heart, but it was too much pain, and Severus had never been good handling pain. He welcomed the cold, wit-sharpening anger when it came to his aid.

"I should have killed you myself," he spat with a sneer that seemed to damage only him. "You were nothing but a filthy Mudblood!"

"Wash your mouth," snapped Potter, ambushing him from behind. "Scourgify!"

Severus tried to block him, but his wand was lying ten feet away from him, and he suddenly realized that he was upside down, bubbles streaming from his mouth while people laughed all around.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" yelled Potter, only it wasn't James, but the brat. "He can't do anything about it, he will drop dead if he lifts a finger against me."

Black laughed.

"I would have liked to see how you tricked the slimy snake into that!"

"He tricked himself," said Lily, also laughing. "He was always pathetic."

"You... wait..." he panted between coughs.

"Wait for what?" challenged Black. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"

"I will kill you all!" he snarled.

"Oh, please," said Potter dismissively, letting Severus fall to the ground in a heap with a lazy flick of his wand. "Lily told us that you couldn't even fend off your drunken Muggle father, you will never stand a chance against the four of us."

"You just wait," he snarled again, searching his pockets for another wand and finding his old one, broken and useless. He tossed it aside along with the painful memory. "Soon you will be begging to the Dark Lord for mercy!"

He pulled up his left sleeve, determined to press his Mark and summon his master, certain that he would come, but his arm was clean. He could feel pain irradiating from where it should be, but there was no Mark. Severus had not yet been favoured with one, he realized with fear and desperation. He was on his own.

"You hear, James?" said Black with a nasty sneer. "You should have let Remus do him in. In fact..." He looked at the sky with excitement. "I think it's a full moon tonight, we should set that straight, don't you think?"

Severus' anger was instantly replaced by terror as he watched people scatter off in all directions. He vaguely noticed that Black and Potter had disappeared, Black replaced by his dog form while Potter was now cantering as a silver stag, a beautiful silver doe at his side. Even as a Patronus shape Potter seemed to brag about having taken Lily from him.

His attention was distracted by a loud yowl that froze his blood and made him look around frantically for the boy. He found him nearby, arms crossed and a smug expression on his annoying face.

"RUN, POTTER!" he shouted.

"Why?" said the brat with insolence. "I won't get hurt."

"Harry is right, Severus," said Dumbledore, who had appeared next to him and was smiling like a fool, his eyes twinkling. "You swore to keep him healthy, you don't have a choice now."

The werewolf had emerged from the Whomping Willow, eyes yellow and savage, slaver running from its mouth. Severus had a wand now, but every spell that could have been of some use against a werewolf seemed to have fled his brain, he could hardly think over his panic. Not even his legs were responding, even though he was certain that running for his life would be an appropriate response to this situation.

"You can't run, Snivellus," mocked him Black, again in his human form. "You have to die for Harry now."

The silver doe seemed to agree, and that silent assent condemned him. He was still paralyzed by terror, though, unable to make himself move forward to stand between the werewolf and the boy. All he could do was to swallow his fear, raise his trembling wand and begin chanting under his breath despite not quite remembering the incantation. Dark Magic flowed easily from his heart and through his arm, but the powerful feeling was dampened by terror as the werewolf began charging towards the boy, who instead of running stupidly raised an arm as if to greet the beast.

Severus felt the tainted teeth sinking into his left arm and desperately wished to cut the entire arm off before the curse could spread, but he knew there was no point and in any case he couldn't stop chanting, his Vow would not allow it. All he could do was to helplessly watch what he could feel being done to him, and fear that it would not be enough to save the brat.

He woke up with a jolt when the werewolf lunged for the boy's throat.

Severus lay in the darkness for a long time trying to get a hold on his emotions after one of the worst nightmares he had had in a very long time. Usually his Occlumency exercises before bed kept his subconscious relatively on check, but tonight that technique had failed him spectacularly. He had half-expected a bad night, given the mental state he had been in right before falling asleep, but as usual he had automatically rejected the notion of dosing himself with Dreamless Sleep and he had paid for his stubbornness.

Dreams were a dangerous thing. Not only they conspired to keep the horrible past painfully fresh, they also threatened to mess with his present state of mind by distorting his memories and his own Self in a way that left him feeling as if his Reality were a different one. He certainly was no longer the person who would have wished his master to come rescue him, but he was having a hard time disentangling those nightmarish feelings from himself, that overwhelming faith on the Dark Lord resonating with the darkness still inside him.

He killed her, he reminded himself, trying to call in his aid the only hate that the nightmare had failed to refresh. But in the dream Severus had wanted to kill Lily himself, and how could he hate the Dark Lord feeling that way?

It had been a nightmare, nothing more. Severus could never hate Lily, and Lily would have never laughed at him nor pronounced him unforgivable or pathetic. She definitely would never have told anyone about Severus' father.

She did marry Potter, though, a nasty voice whispered inside his head. And she was friends with Black and the other idiots. Lily had abandoned him to befriend and love instead Severus' tormentors. As if she had wanted to hurt him in the worst possible way.

He could almost hear the Dark Lord telling him that he had done him a favour by killing her. Love is weakness, young Severus, he had told him once, and weakness doesn't become you. Severus had been unable to argue with that —in fact he despised weakness and love in general—, but he had also been unable to let Lily go. And now more than ever he needed to hold on to his feelings for her, lest the Vow he had sworn became something unbearable to keep.

At the moment he couldn't find anything warm inside him, however. Not that his love for Lily had ever been too warm, of course. Even as children he had experienced more the bitter and despairing aspects of it, the jealously and insecurity, the pain. He had always known that he didn't deserve someone so good, that she would never choose him, and that certainty had made loving her a living hell.

He made to cover his face with his hands, but froze when the gesture sent a jolt of pain up his arm making his heart pick up again. He was on his feet and about to summon his Death Eater robes and mask by sheer reflex when his brain caught up with him and pointed out that his Mark wasn't burning, and that the pain was just what was to be expected when a filthy mutt chose his left arm to chew. Blood-boiling rage overwhelmed him as last day's events mixed up with his recent nightmare making him regret to have just briefly crucio'd the jerk, and to resent Dumbledore for protecting him, as always.

Knowing that Black was currently inside the castle didn't make easy to refrain himself from setting off immediately to finish the job. It also made extremely hard to calm down, since he felt as if his territory were under invasion, every second Black remained in the castle an infuriating provocation.

He managed to take a deep breath, though, and he turned on some lights in his bedroom before sitting down to examine his injured arm. There was blood sipping through the bandage, and when he carefully removed it he saw the Mark's shape slightly distorted by swelling. Poppy had done an excellent job healing most of the damage, but Severus had not allowed her —nor himself— to touch the Mark or risk interfering with its magic in any way, so a few of Black's teeth's marks were still visible over the skull. He would have to leave those wounds to heal naturally, as if they were caused by a Cerberus rather than by that blasted mutt.

The memory of the three-headed dog incensed him again. Damned Hagrid and Dumbledore and Quirrell and Potter! That had been the year when Severus' life had began to go to pieces, the relative calm of the previous decade shattered by the boy's arrival at Hogwarts.

He summoned a few potions and poured some antiseptic over the wounds, then swallowed something for infection and a pain reliever, even though he didn't expect the latter to work. Most of the pain wasn't caused by Black's teeth, he knew, but by the Mark itself. It was a warning. He could only hope that the Dark Lord had not sensed the reaction and misinterpreted it as an attempt to get rid of it, an action that clearly wasn't allowed and that would be met with awfully painful, if not deadly, punishment.

He stared for a while at his Dark Mark, which wasn't black, mercifully, but a red almost as vivid as in the past. Wherever the Dark Lord was, whatever he was doing, he must be almost ready to summon them all. He probably was just waiting for Potter to die.

Once again, Severus wondered if he would die if he didn't manage to keep the brat alive despite all his limited efforts. He also wondered what on earth had possessed him to swear his life away so recklessly. From the moment Lily's son's name had emerged from the Goblet of Fire he had been so focused on finding a way around the unhelpability, and then on using the Vow as effectively as possible, that he hadn't really taken a moment to contemplate things from a wider perspective.

Now he wondered if perhaps he should have considered more carefully his decision of swearing an Unbreakable Vow and getting himself trapped. The whole thing had been his idea, but he suddenly felt as if he had been set up and he like an idiot had fallen for it. Now protecting the boy felt too much like doing Sirius Black and James Potter a favour, and he couldn't stand that.

Feeling nauseated by such thoughts, he reapplied a clean bandage on his arm and lied down again. It had been just a damned dream, he didn't actually feel like that. Well, yes, he hated Black and Potter, and even now thinking about the Dark Lord sometimes made him tremble with reverence, but he was pretty sure he still loved Lily and that it was worth sacrificing his life and even getting mauled by a werewolf for her.

It had to be.

Dumbledore had warned him that Black would stay around a week in the castle —which was moronic, in Severus' opinion—, so it wasn't a surprize to see the bloody dog walk into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, wagging his tail happily at Potter's side. At least half the Hall and the entire staff instantly turned to watch Severus' reaction, which for once he didn't bother concealing since after yesterday's impulsive intervention with the bezoar it was actually convenient for everyone to think that he would have preferred making Potter choke with the bezoar rather than helping him breathe. With any luck, most people would assume that he had only assisted the boy on Dumbledore's orders, to keep his cover up.

So he allowed himself to glare murderously at the brat and the mutt all he wanted, not caring at all what Moody might think. He was sick of the Auror, and frankly he didn't see the point in pretending not to be a Death Eater anymore. It was actually liberating, like Moody had said, to have his past exposed, at least while Dumbledore's protection was still in place.

None of his colleagues said anything, but Severus could feel their eyes on him through the meal, as well as many others. Potter in particular glanced up several times to return his glare with defiance and even mockery while he deliberately patted the dog's head and fed him pieces of bacon from his own plate. The ungrateful brat had never looked so much like his bloody father, something that after last night's nightmare Severus really couldn't stomach and that decided him to skip lunch entirely.

What he hadn't expected was that Black would be stupid enough as to blatantly provoke Severus by showing up at Double Potions with Potter.

By the slightly threatening pose of the animal it was plain that Black thought himself some kind of noble bodyguard, come to make sure that the evil dungeon's bat didn't mistreat his delicate godson. No doubt he also meant to test Severus' compliance to Dumbledore's orders of not exposing him.

Only an idiot would risk his soul just to annoy someone. But Black had never been more than a brainless bully.

Absolute silence had fallen in the classroom, not even the Slytherins daring to whisper or do anything but stare in eager anticipation. Severus held in his first impulse of immediately evicting the mutt from his territory in a rather painful way, and after a long moment he decided he might as well turn Black's provocation around and have a little fun.

"This was foolish of you, Potter," he said finally in a very soft, dangerous voice that made Longbottom visibly shudder.

"The Headmaster said that I could take my dog everywhere with me," defended himself the brat, his attitude challenging.

"You think you're untouchable, don't you, Potter?" The boy didn't answer, but Severus could almost hear him thinking 'I know I am'. It was probably Severus' fault, since he had encouraged the brat to disregard rules and not worry about any Death Eaters while the Goblet was active, but it still incensed him after all the trouble and pain he had gone through to keep him alive so far. "Well, you will soon learn that nobody is untouchable, as long as one knows their weak spots."

To illustrate, Severus pointed his wand at the dog, his lip curling involuntarily, and deeply enjoyed hitting him with a Bone-Breaking Curse. Black let out a loud yelp of pain and for a moment seemed to consider to transform to his human form, but either his fear of exposure or the realization that his wand arm was broken made him lunge in his dog form instead. This time, however, Severus wasn't occupied shoving a bezoar down Potter's throat so he immediately knocked him down with a Body-Bind Curse and tethered him to the floor with the heaviest chains he could conjure.

"You bastard!" yelled Potter.

Severus pointed his wand again at the dog. This time everyone could hear the 'crack', followed by Black's pitiful whining and growling.

"There are many bones in a dog, Potter," informed him cruelly. "I will break one more for each time you disrespect me or disobey my instructions. I find this far more satisfying than taking points, so please, do go on."

Potter made a movement as if to reach for his wand.

"Drawing your wand on a teacher will cost your dog dearly, Potter," he warned. "I know which bones hurt the most, as I'm sure you can imagine."

The boy hesitated, his expression torn between fury and worry. He was assessing Severus in a very calculating way, for once in his life seeming to be considering the benefits of reining in his temper instead of stupidly lashing out. Severus raised a challenging eyebrow and waited, but before Potter could decide whether to submit or not someone else moved.

"Sit down, Granger," snapped Severus. "You can go tell the Headmaster or McGonagall later."

The girl raised her chin defiantly.

"I will go now, Professor," she said firmly, starting to turn away.

"You will not," said Severus, waving his wand to loudly lock the door. "Sit down, or next class it will be your ugly cat chained to this dungeon's floor."

That stopped her, and after a brief hesitation she resumed her place next to Longbottom, looking afraid but clearly determined to run to some authoritative figure as soon as the bell rang. Severus glanced at the other Gryffindors, daring them to make a sound, and then walked back to the front of the class.

"Today you will attempt to brew Skele-Gro," he announced, flipping to the very end of the textbook. "This is an OWL-level potion, but I am certain that over the last four years were covered in this class all the contents required to be in condition to brew it. Of course, some of you," he directed a mocking look at Potter, "still have trouble grasping first year concepts, in which case the result will probably resemble toxic mud. But who knows, perhaps the famous Harry Potter will make an effort for once, knowing that whatever he manages to produce he will have to administer to his precious pet. Instructions on the board, you may begin."

At first no one moved, but when several seconds passed with nothing else exciting happening the Slytherins began assembling ingredients and tools, and soon most of the Gryffindors resigned themselves to do the same. Potter hadn't moved, though, instead crossing his arms over his chest and maintaining a glare fixed on Severus, his eyes intense and his lips pressed hard as if struggling to keep in a string of curses magical and verbal.

"I believe my instructions were clear, Potter," said Severus, and everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. "I will break one bone for each minute you refuse to work, and if at the end of the class you have not produced anything then your dog will be administered Longbottom's potion instead."

Longbottom's already pale face grew alarmed at that announcement. Pomona no doubt would give Severus hell if she heard about this, but he shrugged it off. The boy had reached an unprecedented level of fear ever since Skeeter's article, anyway, it was unlikely anything Severus did could scare him more.

His words at least served to make Potter finally move and begin working, although his hands were shaking with fury. Next to his workstation Black was also shaking, although in his case no doubt it was with pain. He wasn't whining anymore, but his constant low growling kept everyone on edge through the class and Severus in an excellent mood.

The power to hurt a powerless enemy definitely tasted sweet.

And as it turned out, Potter could produce a decent potion if he really tried. At first the panic and fury made him more clumsy, but eventually his hands stopped shaking and he stopped glancing at Black or glaring at Severus all the time, and then he focused on his work better than Severus had ever seen him. At his side Longbottom also seemed highly focused, and while he clearly kept counting in his mind and being very careful with his hands his movements were faster than usual and he wasn't lagging behind the rest.

The Dark Lord had always been right in that fear was the most powerful motivator.

Knowing that the rumours and complaints would spread fast, and not wanting his good mood to be spoiled just yet by his colleagues' admonishments, Severus skipped dinner too and went directly back to his quarters after that memorable class. To his disgust, however, Dumbledore flashed out of the hearth less than ten minutes later, looking almost as intimidating as he had looked that night on the hilltop so many years ago.

"You have crossed a line, Severus," the old man said harshly.

Severus was no longer so easily intimidated, though, and he was currently running thin on patience.

"Black crossed a line by coming to my class," he snapped back.

"That is besides the point. You are a teacher, with students under your care. Today you behaved like a Death Eater with victims at your disposal. I can't allow that."

"I didn't harm anyone under my care, and in the end all students, and specially Potter and Longbottom, produced far better potions than usual so I'd say my teaching methods are quite effective." Dumbledore opened his mouth to argue, but Severus cut him off. "Moody cast Unforgivables on students, next to that what I did was nothing. And after risking my cover yesterday with the bezoar, it was actually necessary to behave like I did."

"I'm sure you have plenty justifications, Severus, you were always good at that. But the truth is that you used a class full of children to exact revenge on a personal enemy, and I believe what you showed them was inappropriate behaviour for a teacher."

"Everyone knows I'm a Death Eater under your protection, Dumbledore, what could be more appropriate for me than to behave accordingly?"

The old wizard sighed and shook his head sadly, a gesture that irritated Severus much more than his previous anger. He hated to be pitied, especially by Albus Dumbledore.

"You're losing control, Severus, don't you see?" asked the old man gently. "You're too stressed out, and I don't think you're thinking clearly. I've been willing to make allowances for you, understanding your feeling of helplessness and the pressure that being publicly exposed has put over you, but I worry you will lose sight of who you are and of your purpose if you continue this way."

"Worry that I won't make a good spy, is that it?" sneered Severus. "Or are you worried that I will change sides again?"

Not that such course was possible for Severus anymore, but in moments like these he really wished he could, just to shove his betrayal in Dumbledore's trustful face.

"Perhaps," admitted the Supreme Mugwump gravely. "When I see you like this, I wonder if you would even notice the change before it was too late."

Dumbledore's words gave Severus pause. He turned away rubbing his temples and anxiously trying to occlude against his own thoughts and feelings. Last night's dream was still too fresh inside him, making him feel nauseated and angry at everyone including himself. And it was all Black's fault. He had been just fine until the blasted dog had come out of the lake with Potter.

"Two days ago I was accused of almost killing everyone trying to help Potter," he snarled, turning to scowl at the Headmaster again. "How could you doubt what side I am?"

"I'm just concerned, Severus. You have been behaving mysteriously and, I must say, erratically. Having the Goblet of Fire in the castle, in addition to Alastor, Igor and now Sirius too seems to have pushed you over the edge. I don't want you to fall, mainly for your own sake."

"Then keep that bloody mutt away from me!" he roared. "And Moody too. And don't you dare demanding me to demonstrate my Patronus again!"

Dumbledore frowned, which made Severus think he had been right in fearing that the old man intended to ask that of him. But his Patronus wasn't something he could face now, he was afraid to call the silver doe, afraid that she might not show up. Perhaps it was true that he was spiralling out of control, although he was certain that a good night of dreamless sleep and adequate distance from Black, Potter, Moody and Dumbledore would put everything to rights inside him.

"I will make sure Sirius doesn't provoke you again," said the old wizard finally. "And he will be gone in a week, in any case. But Harry will remain, and I don't think it's fair of you to take your anger out on him."

"Since when do you care about what is fair?" demanded Severus. "Nothing has ever been fair for me, that's for sure. And Potter is just like hi-"

"He's not his father," interrupted him Dumbledore with another sigh. "And the fact that his hostage was Sirius only says about him that he doesn't have anyone else. You're making your job of protection unnecessarily hard by hating Harry, Severus."

"I will hate whomever I want, thank you. Now if that's all, I would really appreciate if you got the hell out of my quarters and didn't show up unannounced ever again."

The old man gave him a long, ancient look. He seemed to want to say more, but Severus' countenance must not be very inviting because he finally sighed one last time and turned back to the hearth. Severus half-wished it were possible to close down the Floo in his personal quarters, or at least that he could keep out the Headmaster.

He had only paced a few times across the main room, trying to decide whether he would have a better chance of being left alone if he went to Spinner's End for the night, when the damned hearth flared again and Minerva stepped in looking stern and angry.

"Spare me," he snapped immediately. "Dumbledore was just here."

She pursed her lips and seemed to consider his frenzy state through her square spectacles.

"Did he tell you that it's completely unacceptable what you did today in class?"

"Yes. Not that I care what he said."

"You sound like a stubborn child, Severus," she chastised. Then she glanced around. "Why don't we sit down? We could have tea..."

"I would rather you didn't get too comfortable," he replied rudely. "I'm looking forward to your departure."

She sighed.

"All right, I will remain standing, then. You're taking this way out of proportion, Severus. I understand that you're angry at Potter's dog for having bitten you, but it's just a dog, and it's not Harry's fault what his dog did." He didn't say anything in return, so she sighed again and continued, "As to the Gillyweed, it was just an error in judgement, and it all turned out all right in the end so there's nothing to really regret..."

"I do regret having sworn that bloody Vow," he growled.

"You don't mean that," she said with certainty. "You were under a lot more pain after the first task, and you didn't regret your decision then. This can't be worse than that."

Severus didn't answer. This was much worse, but Minerva couldn't understand without knowing who the dog really was. He had considered to tell her, but that would mean to also let her know about Black's supposed innocence, which Severus would rather avoid. It had taken him more than a decade to somewhat overcome his resentment at Minerva McGonagall for having turned a blind eye to what Potter and his cronies did while at school, he didn't want to risk the respect he had reluctantly developed for his colleague by seeing her take Black's side again. Better if she continued believing the jerk a murderous traitor.

Minerva couldn't understand. Dumbledore probably understood, but he didn't care, he had never cared about what the Marauders did to Severus. And his advice would be useless, anyway, something about making peace, forgiving and such nonsense.

Only the Dark Lord had ever completely understood Severus. No one else had tried to help him channel these oppressing feelings instead of keeping everything bottled up inside, poisoning him. His former master would have given the mutt to him as a reward and sat to watch the show instead of demanding friendly handshakes and apologies from him.

He let himself fall on an armchair and closed his eyes. He felt very much like a Death Eater eager to go out on a raid, so perhaps Dumbledore had some cause to be concerned.

"I should have listened to you," he said bitterly, opening his eyes and losing himself in the flames. "You advised me against the Vow, I should have listened."

"I'm glad you didn't," she said in all seriousness, sitting across from him. "Harry wouldn't have come this far without your help."

"Without my servitude," he muttered, more to himself than to Minerva. He felt horribly trapped. Severus had always valued his freedom and independence over everything else, and yet he had willingly taken the Dark Mark half a lifetime ago, and now he had willingly tied himself in life and death to bloody Potter. It mattered little that the brat was supposed to symbolize the right side —if such side existed—, Severus seemed to have made again a very similar mistake. Only the Vow was much worse than the Dark Mark, much more dangerous and constraining.

"Severus?" Minerva cautiously asked. "What is going on with you?"

He ran both hands through his hair and stood up abruptly.

"I'm done!" he declared furiously, pacing again the room. "I'm done with the Vow!"

"You can't be done with the Vow, Severus," she said patiently in the tone used to address a crazy or senile person. "You must keep it, else you will drop dead."

"I know that!" he snarled. "I will act whenever I have to, but I'm done trying to use it!"

"Perhaps you should take a Calming Draught," suggested Minerva, now sounding and looking seriously concerned. "You're not quite yourself."

"I think I'm more myself now than I was when I swore that bloody Vow. I don't know what possessed me then."

"You were trying to help Harry survive. Lily's son. You did it for her, Severus. And you have succeeded, so far."

Severus ran his hands through his hair again and wondered where was his Occlumency now. Perhaps he should knock himself out with Dreamless Sleep before his mind collapsed.

"I'm done!" he repeated.

"You can't, Severus," insisted Minerva. "Harry still needs your help."

"I don't bloody care! Apparently Potter is a magical marvel, capable of killing dragons and casting non-verbally at fourteen, so he will do just fine without help. Not that I ever managed to help much, but I will definitely stop trying so hard. I'm done!"

No more struggling to send things to the brat. No more especially designed constructive insults. No more doing anything unless he absolutely had to to keep the Vow from killing him.

He would probably have to do something during the third task, but he intended to take a break until then. And even during the task it was possible that he would not be able to do anything, just like he had been unable to do anything during the second.

He didn't intend to neglect the Vow. He would just stop stressing over it all the time. Let Potter do his thing and ask his ally for help if he needed it.

Severus was done.