1998, September 17th
Harry stirred in his bed, and blearily opened his eyes. Moonlight filtered in through the dormitory window, providing just enough illumination to see that something wasn't right. Beside him, Snape was tossing and turning in his bed, tangled in the sheets and muttering something under his breath. Harry craned his neck, straining to hear his words. Snape thrashed around again, and Harry thought he caught a glimpse of anguish and torment on his face before it was hidden by the shadows.
It was nighttime, and Dumbledore sagged sideways in the throne-like chair behind his desk, semiconscious.
His right hand dangled over the side, blackened and limp. Severus was muttering incantations, pointing his wand at the wrist of the hand, while with his left hand he tipped a goblet full of thick golden potion down Dumbledore's throat. After a moment or two, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened.
"Why," Severus said, without preamble, "Why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
Marvolo Gaunt's ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked; the sword of Gryffindor lay beside it.
Dumbledore grimaced. "I . . . was a fool. Sorely tempted . . ."
"Tempted by what?"
Dumbledore did not answer.
"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Severus said furiously. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being —"
Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio. "You have done very well, Severus."
"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" Severus said through his teeth. He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
"Something like that . . . I was delirious, no doubt . . . ." Dumbledore said. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
Severus looked at him, utterly perplexed. Dumbledore smiled.
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
Severus sat down in the chair, across the desk from Dumbledore. He wanted to say more on the subject of the mans cursed hand, but the other held it up in polite refusal to discuss the matter further.
Scowling, Severus said, "The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."
"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," Dumbledore said. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"
There was a short pause. "That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan."
"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"
"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."
"And if it does fall into his grasp," Dumbledore said, almost, it seemed, as an aside, "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"
Severus gave a stiff nod.
"Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you —"
"— much less since his father has lost favor. Draco blames me, he thinks I have usurped Lucius's position."
"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Severus raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked, "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not. You must kill me."
There was a long silence, broken only by an odd clicking noise. Fawkes the phoenix was gnawing a bit of cuttlebone.
"Would you like me to do it now?" Severus asked, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"
"Oh, not quite yet," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course. Given what has happened tonight," he indicated his withered hand, "we can be sure that it will happen within a year."
"If you don't mind dying," Severus said roughly, "why not let Draco do it?"
"That boy's soul is not yet so damaged," Dumbledore said. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."
"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"
"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," Dumbledore said. "I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved — I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it."
His tone was light, but his blue eyes pierced Snape as they had frequently pierced anyone, as though the soul they discussed was visible to him. At last Snape gave another curt nod.
Dumbledore seemed satisfied. "Thank you, Severus . . ."
Severus awoke with a jolt, Potter's hands were on his shoulders shaking him violently. Sweat glistened on his skin. Another nightmare.
"You alright? You looked like you were seizing." Potter said, then removed his hands from Severus' bare shoulders. He knew he should've remembered to close his curtain after he went to the loo during the night.
Severus jerked away from him, pulling his sheet up over his chest. He felt bare, even with the black tank top he had started sleeping in.
"I'm fine." He rasped, sweeping his eyes over the darkened room. No one else had woken, their dorm mates were still snoring away in their respective beds. He rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"
Potter looked down to the old watch on his wrist, "It's half past 4 in the morning."
"Oh." Severus said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Nice watch."
Potter frowned and looked down to his watch once more, a small fond smile pulled his lips, "Thanks, it was a gift from Mrs. Weasley."
"I should start putting a silencing charm over my curtains." Severus mumbled, throwing his covers off of himself and then his legs over the side of his bed. That's when he noticed the large shadow protruding the cloth in his black pants. Sweet Merlin! What the fuck! He quickly covered his crotch with his comforter.
Potter walked back over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, "You didn't wake me, I have drills to run this morning."
If he noticed he didn't say anything, which Severus was grateful for. Turning his back to Potter he quickly pulled a pair of his trousers over his pants, praying to Merlin that hid it well. Curse Lily and curse his new pubescent bodily functions. Leave it to a teenage body to choose the most inopportune moments to malfunction.
"I never pegged you for an early riser, but I suppose I didn't really know you as your Professor." Severus said, while reaching under his pillow for his wand. Once he felt the cold smooth texture of its handle, relief washed over him. There was nothing like feeling the security of his wand in his hand.
"No you didn't." Potter paused, considering him for a moment, "It'll just be me and Ginny again this morning, if you don't have rounds you could come, I'm sure some exercise would do you some good."
"Me and brooms don't go well together." Severus said, pushing himself up from his bed, then waving his wand at it and watched as it made itself. Why wouldn't it go away! He moved to the other side of his bed, making sure to keep Potter at his back as he did. He should've picked a loose set of trousers instead of whatever unholy brand created these restricting monstrosities.
"Hermione says the same thing everytime I offer for her to join us too." Potter chuckled, "You could jog around the field, that's usually what I do first anyway."
"As thankful as I am for the offer, Potter, I do have rounds this morning with Granger. She gave me the schedule she gave Weasley for their shared Head duties." He said, then laid out his uniform for the day over his bed. He needed to get to the loo and fast.
"That's right," Potter said as he stood up from his bed. "I almost forgot you were going to start helping her on rounds." He let out the ghost of a laugh.
"Well it's my responsibility now as well." Severus said, pulling his robes down from his armoire.
"Your responsibility?" Potter said.
"Yes, Headboy shares responsibilities with the Headgirl." Severus said with a scoff, "Don't tell me Weasley thought otherwise."
"I didn't know you took the position."
Severus turned his head, catching a glimpse of the dumbfounded look on the boy's face and shook his head.
"It was offered to me."
"Oh."
Severus glanced back at him over his shoulder, Potter was stretching his arms over his head, and Severus took a sharp breath in as his eyes traveled over Potter's lean yet toned physique. The muscles in his abdomen tightened as he stretched, the light of the dorm room catching on his scars. Severus suddenly felt subconscious. He's always been skinny. But he also felt like he was intruding in some way, by looking at Potter's bare skin littered with scars, some very similar to the ones he had himself, given to him and he assumed Potter as well, by death eaters. A part of him felt sorry for the boy. He spent every year teaching him as his Professor, assuming the worst of him, and all along he was weathering storms Severus himself had weathered.
"What are you two doing up so early?" Weasley grunted suddenly from his bed, throwing his covers off of him as he sat up and yawned widely.
"I have drills and," Potter paused glancing in Severus' direction, "And Snape has morning rounds with Hermione, you know, the rounds you forfeited so you didn't have to be up this early."
Severus snickered softly to himself, he did so enjoy Potter's wit when it was directed at Weasley.
"Oh right." Weasley said, "Better him than me."
"Why not go back to dribbling drool on your pillow, Weasley, I doubt Granger would be very happy if she saw you were indeed capable of waking at a reasonable hour when you told her it was beyond your ability." Severus said, pulling a Gryffindor gray sweater over his tank top. Thankfully his morning wood had finally decided to go away. Weasley tended to help with that.
"Why are you always so rude to me?" Weasley asked, and glared from across the room.
Severus sighed, "Have you ever considered the fact that I just don't like you?"
"No…"
"Try to consider it." Without another word he threw his robes over his arm and sauntered out of the dorm.
"Why do you always have to provoke him?" Potter whispered.
Severus stopped in his tracks outside the cracked open door.
"How did I provoke him?" Weasley responded rather loudly. "I didn't even say anything."
"Hush." Potter said, followed by a long pause before he continued, "Have you gotten Hermione a gift for her birthday?"
"Not yet."
"Ron, it's two days away."
"I know, that's plenty of time, plus it's a Hogsmeade weekend so we're all going together, I'll slip away to a shop while you and Ginny distract her." Weasley said with his mouth full of what Severus could only assume was sweets. He doesn't understand what Granger ever saw in the twit. "Hey look Harry, it's turned my tongue blue."
Severus rolled his eyes and quickly walked away before he did something stupid and they realized he was eavesdropping.
Her morning routine consisted of taming her hair, brushing her teeth, and getting dressed. If it wasn't for the sheer volume of curls it would take her under ten minutes to get ready, but thanks to her mothers genes, it took her thirty minutes to an hour, depending on whether or not she showered. Today however, was the first day Snape joined her for morning rounds, so instead of worrying with her hair she tied it into a tight bun on top of her head and was down waiting in the common room before he even descended the stairs.
She should've brought a book down to read while she waited for him. Idle hands were the devils playground. Her mother always told her. The thought made her frown. This would be the second birthday in a row that she wouldn't receive a letter or a gift from her parents. Her mother was usually the one who wrote the letter and told her what her father wanted to say. Her fathers handwriting was near illegible. He tried writing a p.s. at the bottom of every letter they sent but her mother always had to translate it after he wrote it so Hermione could understand it. She'd have to go through her box of letters from them this weekend.
"You ready?"
Hermione looked up from the fire at Snape who stood behind her, adorned in his Gryffindor robes, his Headboy badge shining in the firelight.
She forced a smile, "Yeah."
They started their rounds in a companionable silence, walking the corridors side by side, only their wands as a source of light. No one was supposed to be out of their dormitory until six o'clock, so the Headmistress felt it necessary for them to make sure the castle was still secure and nothing untoward had happened during the night. Six years of chaos and Voldemort slipping through the cracks tended to make people nervous.
It wasn't until towards the end of their rounds Snape cleared his throat.
"Are you alright?" The question sounded awkward, as if he really didn't want to be asking it but felt inclined to when she spent twenty minutes without saying a word.
"What?" Hermione asked, then flushed red when it sounded more like a snap. "Oh." She said, her tone softer this time. "It's nothing, just thinking."
Severus glanced over to her, skeptical of her dismissal, then looked back straight ahead. What she had said sounded like a lie, although he wasn't sure if she was lying to him or to herself. He figured something was wrong when he walked into the common room and found her staring into the fireplace with a long look on her face. Had she lost someone during the war? He remembered at length Minerva's relaying of what happened on their side of the war, who they lost, what they went through. He tried but failed to pull a memory of anything relating to the girl. His memory was spotty these days. The order of events seemed to jumble in his mind which made it hard to know for sure if something happened recently or a long time ago. He was also plagued by emotions he had long since buried under a mountain of firewhiskey and draughts of peace.
Things that transpired over twenty years ago were now fresh on his mind and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it. He tried many times to feel what he knew he felt when Lily rejected him, but he just couldn't. It still felt like it happened too long ago. None of it made sense. The memories of his school years were fresh but somehow still distant. He felt like a mess, he was all broody and hormonal, the slightest thing could set him off. He even felt insecurities that he remembered growing out of. He could only imagine what it was like for a girl.
He felt a sudden urge to help soothe whatever thoughts were running around in her head. He had never been one for comforting people, though. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself.
It had been a trying few months. The mixing of his younger and older self's emotions made it hard to decipher what he was actually feeling. He felt numb somehow, disconnected.
Finally she sighed, "I'm honestly surprised you're taking all of this so well. I would've thought you'd blow up by now."
He glanced at her, "What do you mean?"
"I mean everything, being back in school, being placed in Gryffindor, sharing a dorm with Harry and Ron, all the attention." She explained, "You haven't snapped at one person that I know of."
All the attention. To his knowledge he hadn't received much attention from anyone other than the stares and murmurs on his way to class everyday, much to his surprise. But perhaps he has just been oblivious with everything he had running through his mind as of late. The thought made him uncomfortable to say the least. Didn't the students have something more important to be doing than oogle at him?
She chuckled.
A smile tugged at his lips, "It's only the second week, don't give me too much credit."
Her laugh rang through the corridor.
He felt something in his chest stir at the sound. He couldn't remember the last time he made someone laugh so much. This was the second time he had brought her to tears laughing. A small part of him felt proud. The fact that she had even deigned to be within ten feet of him, let alone walk the halls with him like this, was a small miracle. The memory of their conversation after he awoke in the Shrieking Shack rose in his mind. She was definitely a feisty thing wasn't she. He felt his lips curve in a slight smile before he realized what he was doing and forced it into a frown. He couldn't be caught looking at the girl like that, someone would get the wrong idea.
"I take it the rumors have started already?" He sighed. "I suppose I can't blame them. The last time I was at this school, I was the enemy. I doubt many students will care to give me the benefit of the doubt."
"You'd be surprised. Most of the chatter is more so about you being 17 again, but since the Headmistress has been cracking down on harassment everyone's too scared to approach you." She sighed, "Last week was a nightmare, we could barely walk ten feet into class without being bombarded by Harry's admirers."
Severus scoffed. "I would've assumed Potter adored it, basking in all the attention and praise."
"Quite the contrary." She said, "It annoys him to no end. Ginny had to threaten many of the girls with unforgivables, that's why the headmistress banned fan mail."
"Well, I'm sure that goes for the boy fans as well? Plenty of them are likely throwing themselves at the feet of the Gryffindor Golden Girl." He was surprised by the undertone in his own voice. "Or has your Weasley threatened to cast unforgivables as well?"
Her face fell, he noticed, "I don't have a Weasley."
He was immediately struck by regret, and wished he could take the words back, but it was too late to save the conversation now. If someone would've told him five months ago that he would care how his words affected her he would've probably hexed them into oblivion.
"I-" He began to change the subject, but she beat him to it.
"I don't have time for boys." She said, her voice hard. He wondered what trouble there was in paradise. He had always assumed she and Weasley would end up married with a horde of children just like his parents. His question must have upset her in some way. The thought stung him. It hadn't been his intention to upset her. "I need to find my parents and prepare for N.E.W.T.'s."
"Find your parents?" He said, just as they rounded the corner and began ascending the staircase towards Gryffindor tower. He was puzzled by her statement, and his face fell into a frown, "What do you mean?"
She did not look happy, and he knew immediately that something was wrong. Had something happened to her parents and he hadn't heard? He supposed that was likely given how well the Order was at keeping secrets.
"I obliviated them before we went searching for Horacruxes," She paused, "and I sent them to Australia."
"Oh." He didn't know what else to say, how was he supposed to respond to that? He didn't have to ask why, he knew why. If his mother had still been alive he probably would've done something similar.
"One reason for my sour mood." She said, flashing her wand light towards another empty corridor as they passed.
He wanted to ask her why she didn't just send them into hiding with Potters family, but he didn't, instead he said, "Sometimes memories are a form of torture."
"I will be grading your assignments this weekend, so you can expect your grades to be posted by Monday. Now as I'm sure all of you know, we won't be able to break the wax skins and finish the potion until the 2nd." Professor Slughorn said, then made his way through the aisle between the brewing stations. "As such in the meantime I would like for you to read chapter 7 of Potions by Daley and chapter 21 for those of you who purchased the updated version, Cauldrons by Daley, I did not list it on your syllabus, hopefully the Library will have a copy for those of you who don't have it. That was my mistake."
Hermione turned her head and noticed Snape couldn't help but smirk. When have I ever been wrong about potions, she knew he thought. She rolled her eyes with a small annoyed smile.
In the back of the class Draco was looking between the two of them, watching their exchange. "You two seem to be getting along."
Severus sighed and opened his textbook to the appropriate page. "Start your reading, Draco."
As the class went on for the next hour, he couldn't help but notice several students turn back and look at him. He tried to keep his head down and avoid eye contact but it was becoming impossible. Everytime he looked up he noticed eyes on him. How had he not noticed the stares? Had the last twenty years of his life become fruitless, what a spy he must be if he went two weeks without noticing just how much attention his condition brought him.
He quickly slammed his book shut and threw his bag over his shoulder, "Loo," was all he said to Slughorn's questioning glance as he made his way out of the room.
Once he had entered the boys restroom at the other end of the dungeons he threw his bag to the floor and leaned against the sink.
He felt like a sick form of entertainment, like a creature of the circus on display for the world to judge. How was he supposed to focus with constant eyes on him?
His hands twitched on either side of the porcelain sink, so he drew them into fists and flexed his fingers.
And what was this constant twitch he had developed? He couldn't seem to sit still and he felt on edge, as if he had an itch he couldn't scratch. It felt as if he was having mild withdrawals from a dreamless sleep potion.
Realization dawned on him suddenly, fuck all.
Emotions he had grown out of, recent scars disappearing, old ones reappearing, and an addiction he had quit a long time ago.
He ran a hand through his hair. Had Lily intended for this to happen? What was it she had said, his soul would be tied?
"Think of it as a do-over. You'll be a new man unscarred by years of following Tom Riddle." She said, sitting down next to him, "You'll still have your memories, though they may seem a little distant at first, but it's a chance to start over. To lead a new life, to be a new man."
He bowed his head and hid his eyes behind his palms. "What's the catch?"
She smiled, "Your life is bound to a soul tie. The one whose soul reflects yours."
He didn't feel like a new man. He felt like an old man trapped in a young man's body. He couldn't control its functions, morning wood and cravings, that's what he's been left to deal with.
He splashed water on his face, he had forgotten the key component in this little gift. His desperate need to gain back what little of a life he had, clouded his judgment. Not only did he have to deal with this but also a soul-tie, to whom, he did not know.
He met his eyes in his reflection, taking in his appearance with a renewed sense of finality. There had to be a way out of this, he needed to speak to Minerva. He had kept a large portion of information from her, but maybe she could shed some light on his situation.
He sighed, he needed a cigarette.