Chapter 21

Friday night, Minerva came to chew his ear off.

It was about something ridiculous, insignificant really, but even so, he sat in his chair, silently taking everything that she threw at him and never once protested during her tirade.

Saturday afternoon, he was called to an interrogation.

He was to witness the Dark Lord's anger towards Bellatrix for losing a particular thing from her vault. And witness it he did, returning enlightened about the Dark Lord's immortality.

Sunday morning, he confronted Albus about the Horcruxes.

He stood before the portrait, demanding the truth about all that he pieced together last night, and it turned out that yes, she'd worn a piece of that dark wizard's soul around her neck.

It infuriated him, to begin with.

Of all the evil, it had to be that one?

Bellatrix's mark was one thing, but for her to have been so close to possession by the Dark Lord? She may strong and capable, but so is the Dark Lord - it would've taken only one slip for her life to be in the Dark Lord's hands.

Coming to terms with that, he then grew terrified.

Of course, the little remedy of finding her precise location then going to confirm her wholeness worked as well as it should have in her company. Away from her, however, his unease came back at the exact moment that they parted. And now Monday morning, all over again, he is back to this terrible routine of his.

Even as he is manually finishing off the last of grooming ritual, his scowl deepens with the knowledge of what awaits him outside his private chambers. The same old, same old it will be; where the teachers look at him with suspicion, and the students cower away from his eyes and path, where the Carrows believe themselves his equal and where he wonders when it will ever end, if it will ever end.

26Chapters

It won't end.

He finds this out a mere three days later when answering the deep burn of his Mark lands him in the Dark Lord's private company. Fortune has at least encased him that he doesn't instantly have to look into those lifeless red eyes, or look upon a pale face, whose two expressions only inspire hopelessness. Those things aside, though, all of the rest simply won't end.

Ah, the excruciating joys of his life.

'You called for me, my lord,' he nonetheless announces himself in the humblest of tones.

As he wishes to make it away from here at the soonest, his role is to fall into perfect line until the very end of the conversation, come what may, said what will be and feel as he might.

'Severus,' the Dark Lord duly responds, his voice not only commanding his proper attention, but also warning in a sense. 'I have wondered if you know of the ways to immortality.'

'No, my lord.'

Fortunately, it is not a lie.

Immortality never appealed to him throughout his life. Even if it had, which type of stupidity would have made him want to carry his miserable life on to no end? Prior to a certain girl with bold determination, he never knew his life to have anything of value.

'Not just anyone can live forever,' he is responded to in a cautioning manner as the wizard turns to him at last. 'I have wondered if perhaps, you, Severus, wish to live forever.'

He has wondered or he still is?

Because for him to ask the same thing a second time when neither of them are stupid, surely something is brewing in the Dark Lord's cauldron. That he was called here alone as well...

He could choose to be naïve and believe that this call is to bring him into further confidence, but he will rather be realistic and suspect that the Dark Lord wants muffle whichever little or big thing has an idea of his dwindling soul fragments. In precise terms, either option will result in him being in an extremely vulnerable position; either a breath away from death or several more mercy breaths for a few more days until he is fully expendable.

For that very reason, he answers with a mild, 'Never, my lord. My only wish is to serve you,' earning himself a long regarding look.

After a bit more of the silent study, the Dark Lord then says, 'I have taught you much up to now, more than I have ever given to anyone.'

True, yes, although is that a mere statement or a threat? Because to his mind, it's heavily leaning towards a threat. Atop the cautioning that he has received up to now, it simply can't be anything else, and so he must tread carefully.

'I am in awe of your generosity, my lord,' he delivers flatteringly, even going as far as to bow for a proper show of appreciation.

'As you should be,' the other wizard nods thoughtfully only to fling it away with his free hand. 'That will be all, Severus.'

Why, of course, as the Dark Lord wants, he silently nods, understanding the instruction. His feelings on the other hand, are completely dark about the fact that his days are now precisely numbered. No longer does he have the luxury of time, he gathers and as he disappears, he takes in the fact that starting right now, he must begin putting things in order – it is wiser to.

First, he will do something very important and after that he will do another, more important thing.

26Chapters

From the Dark Lord's, he lands on his familiar spot at the Manor, where he wastes no time in sweeping to the front door to knock upon it.

Though his mood is urgent, and he doesn't wish to remain here longer than he has to, if the question of tarrying for the sake of his end goal comes up, he will. It's that should he let this chance go, he might never get it again, and so he hopes that Narcissa won't make things too difficult for him. An extra would also be that her sister is nowhere to be found, because after meeting the Dark Lord, he can't spare dark emotions for her as well.

He unfortunately does spare them, being forced to weather a dark unsettlement inside his chest as the door pulls back to reveal her darkness to him.

But magic, how he hates her.

She mutually hates him, he notes, specifically by her eyes running up and down his frame before letting out an uncomfortable sounding, 'Snape.'

'Narcissa,' he answers, too in a hurry to entertain verbal blows with her.

'Bella,' she corrects with a disgusted frown.

'Have her meet me outside,' he responds, disregarding her frown and turning his back on her to walk back to the spot that he appeared on.

He can't trust Bellatrix to deliver the message in a timely manner, neither does he expect her to, which is why he prepares himself to wait a while. To his surprise, though, just as he is beginning to go over every detail of the Dark Lord's call, Narcissa appears in the short distance, taking timed steps in his direction. She's walking to him as though she were the queen and he had nothing better to do than wait for her, and so he does, because what else should he do, meet her? No, he thinks not, he shall wait for her, as in a hurry as he is.

'And this, Severus?' she softly wonders a step away from him. 'What news do you bring that cannot be spoken inside?'

'I am not visiting,' he explains.

'Are you from seeing him?' she asks apprehensively, and only with that, he understands her walking as she did.

Clearly, she has been dreading to reach him and hear what he has come to say. After the severe telling off that her sister received not too many days ago, he can only imagine that she is terrified for any news at all.

'That is not my reason for seeking you,' he tells her honestly. 'Narcissa, your sister is very important to me,' he gets right to the point. 'You have witnessed the Dark Lord of late and soon, things may change. I do not know the day or the hour for such, but I should like to make a request from you before then.'

Her eyes narrow at him, suspicious, no doubt, followed by a breathy, 'To do with Bella?'

'Yes,' he nods, just then stepping too close to her for emphasis. 'Protect her, Narcissa. Make sure that she lives.'

His request surprises her, he can tell, and when she says, 'You and Bella do not care for each other. I cannot understand why you would want to protect her,' he doesn't blame her reasoning in the least.

Anyone with eyes knows that he and Bellatrix have never seen eye to eye. What anyone with eyes doesn't know about, however, is that while, yes, he hates her, he cannot have her die on the road to the Dark Lord's downfall.

'Who then, should I care to protect?' he tests. 'Lucius will do well to keep you and Draco safe. You know very well that I do not have friends in this group.'

'No,' she refuses, grasping her hands together. 'It's all rather strange, Severus. Has my sister fed you a love potion?'

'If I were under the influence of a love potion, your own beauty would be unrecognised by me at present,' he tells her honestly.

'Then what?' she insists, still shaking her head. 'I don't understand any of this, and quite frankly, I haven't forgotten how you tortured her for letting Harry Potter escape. Do you still hold that grudge?'

For letting Potter escape, hmpf! If only it were that. No, he needs her beloved sister alive for the damage that she has done, damage that he can never take back.

'I do not blame her, nor do I hold a grudge against her for not handing Potter to the Dark Lord,' he assures, in part to bury that line of talk and the other part his complete stance on the matter.

'I am reluctant,' she continues to shake her head as if in deep denial. 'Of course, I will try to save my sister where possible, but it would not be on account of you, Severus. Neither will I prioritise her over my own family, you should know that.'

Whatever he knows and understands about her position, he internally sighs, she mustn't be so fast to believe herself free of his ask.

'Need I remind you, that I made a vow to relieve Draco of being punished by the Dark Lord?' he tactfully brings up. 'At the cost of possibly betraying the Dark Lord, I listened to your pleas, Narcissa. Did you forget?'

Visibly, she's shocked by the reminder, as if she didn't know that he could be crass as to demand repayment for his services, and so takes a step away from him, also taking in a sharp breath.

'That was a special circumstance,' she tries to reason, shy fear laced into her tone.

'As is mine,' he evenly says. 'Although if you cannot afford me the same courtesy as I did you, I will surely demand it from Draco.'

And he truly will, because unbeknownst to her, he long ago tricked Draco into being loyal to him over Bellatrix. As underhanded a tactic as it was to employ, he is overly grateful now that he did so. Having done that, it would take only a requesting word to bind Draco into ensuring that Bellatrix survives.

'You cannot,' she cries with a deep desperation that he can understand. 'He is a boy. He cannot be confined to such a vow.'

Oh, but he can.

At this stage, he is determined to do whatever it will require to ensure Bellatrix's survival.

To her, however, he says, 'Your sentiments are heard, but unfortunately, the boy is in my care at the school, and you will find that I can be extremely persuasive,' which makes her clutch at her heart as if he just stabbed her there.

'Hold yourself together, Narcissa,' he bites, mostly finding her display insufferable - theatrics will not appeal to him. 'It's not as difficult as you are making it to be. I only want your sister to be safe and protected from death by you.'

'You have threatened my son's life,' she bites back, even raising her head as a hen defending her chicks. 'It's no longer a question of difficulty.'

'Narcissa…' he simply gets out at first, and then after studying her face for a moment, adds, 'What will it be?'

Seemingly considering his question, she quietly wonders, 'You require a vow, no doubt?' as her eyes fill with tears.

He could be sympathetic, more than understanding to the implication of asking Draco such a thing, only, he simply will not. A thousand lifetimes over, he will not spare any casualties concerning this.

'You refused to take my word as honourable as well, might I remind you?' he pokes, raising an eyebrow. 'I find the need to claim my payment in the same manner in which it was taken.'

'I understand,' she surprisingly accepts albeit with a tinge of hesitance. 'Then it shall be made under the condition that you will not use any unforgivable curse, dark magic, dark objects or send her to Azkaban afterwards.'

Seeing as he has no need for any of those things, he agrees without skipping a breath, saying, 'As you please. Should you have other conditions, I assure you, I am willing to accept them all. Including not impregnating her.'

Pulling a face at the last part particularly, she tells him, 'I am quite content with those three. So long as it has nothing to do with dark magic and practices, it can be reversed.'

How naïve, doesn't she know that even most of the dark arts can be reversed, only for a price? But all right, let her have consolation, even if it'll do her sister no good. Only what he has in store for Bellatrix will be good, as such, he best get to the heart of it all.

'As you say,' he tips his head only as a formality, right after asking, 'Now who shall bind us?'

They must settle this here and now, for once and all.

'My husband, of course,' tightly leaves her mouth, her distaste not in the least hidden, except, he doesn't care about it at all.

'Get him,' he responds, commands really, because there's no time to waste.

26Chapters

The last time that he found her, it was the late morning after learning that she'd worn a piece of the Dark Lord's soul for a long period and was possibly still carrying another piece of soul that was stolen from Bellatrix's vault.

Learning all that had filled him with an overwhelming need to make sure that she wasn't affected by the Dark Lord's soul, and he did it, he left to find her. Not surprising this time, upon meeting with the Dark Lord a while ago, that same overwhelming feeling came over him again, that here he is, watching her take hurried steps to him. It doesn't take much more for her to reach him, but he also takes two of his steps to meet her sooner, his little sphere of light following him.

'I can't stay long,' she begins to tell him, just then looking behind her like something's there to look at. 'We were at the back of the house, trying to destroy the cup when your Patronus came!'

Although not overly concerned about that, he asks, 'They saw it?'

Of course, he took a risk sending her word by his Patronus, but what else could he have done when faced with urgency? In any event, he has faith in her ability to convince her friends with whatever thing she concocts for them.

'Only Ron,' she pulls in a breath. 'I tried telling him that it was okay, and I don't think he believed it, but at least he's more worried about getting rid of the cup with Harry. Harry's in a foul mood tonight. He's been all day. So you see, I can't stay long.'

'I won't keep you,' he tells her, seeing as he has no plans to.

He will not lie, he's torn between wanting to hold her tightly for a moment and telling her that Potter's mood most likely has everything to do with the Dark Lord's state of mind, but at the last possible moment, when she turns her head behind her, taking another look there, he decides to pull himself together and rather get right to the point of his coming. The Dark Lord's meeting has him uneasy and so he is putting things in place before anything rash happens.

'I'm so nervous,' she confesses upon turning back. 'Did you cloak us? I don't have my wand and Ron might have followed me.'

Only to appease her, because he needs her less nervous than she claims and presents to be, he waves his wand between them, cloaking them as she wants.

'Oh, good,' she breathes out when he lowers his hand, even smiling a little. 'Thanks. And hi.'

Hi.

Simply that, and surprisingly, he feels lightened inside - less burdened if he were to be very intricate. So much so that of their own accord, his feet step forwards, his head bending down for his lips to touch her forehead appreciatively in more than just a greeting.

'Miss,' he softly delivers as he draws away, his eyes immediately looking deep into hers for a moment.

Yes, he's urgently here to say something to her, but more than that, he only needs to appreciate her for not being like anyone else has ever been to him. So normally, she treats him, even under duress. It's truly no wonder that he loves her.

'I'm glad to see you,' she says in earnest, 'but I'm sorry, we have to be quick. We have to destroy it tonight, otherwise… Harry's really in a foul mood and I don't think that we'll survive the night if we don't destroy it.'

The Dark Lord was suspicious earlier today, and though he hasn't heard back from him up to now, he can understand why Potter might be affected. That aside, he also doesn't have the proper luxury of keeping in her company, which is why he must tell her the truth.

'I won't take your time,' he even assures, and then with measured urgency, he tells her, 'but do take note of what I am about to tell you. It is very important, and I need your word that you will fulfil it.'

'Okay, if I can do it…' she says while nodding, so effortlessly prepared to listen to him without questioning his motives as Narcissa did before her – Narcissa who's known him for longer than she has, might he add.

'In the event of my death, you are to kill Bellatrix.'

It's an awful ask, more so that he didn't pause to allow her the time to process his supposed death, and yet, as blunt as it is, as massive a thing as it is, she oddly nods her answer. How peculiar that she won't even question him about it.

'For what she has done to you,' he explains for her own clarity, and for the sake of not painting himself the ruthless murderer. 'For killing Lefa -'

Her sudden and sharp gasp cuts him off, and followed by a strangled, 'She killed Lefa?' he cannot help it feel the sting of it on her, which is why to push it away from now, he acknowledges it with a curt nod before continuing.

'For how she caused my hand to render you double the pain that she made you feel, you are to kill her for me.'

Again, he made no pause in between to prepare her for his request and still, she accepts it all, quietly nodding as though it's nothing. It can't be that she's ready to use an Unforgivable simply because he asked her to, yet there she is, not protesting or asking for more information as it is in her nature to do.

'It is my plan to drown out your screams from my memory with her shrieks,' he picks up after a moment, nonetheless. 'I've tested her ability to shriek.'

She does so maddeningly - in the sort of way that one would never forget, and precisely that is what he'd been looking to hear. Bellatrix is very passionate in her expression of emotions and sensations, and for that he is extremely thankful.

'You want me to torture her?' she wonders, her warm eyes widening as much as he can see in the small light keeping them.

No, an Unforgivable is never to come from her hand because of him.

'Burn her alive until you no longer remember how much pain you felt when I removed her mark from you,' he sets it right for her. 'Do this one evil thing for me, Miss.'

Even now, he feels the need to explain himself without a prompt. Perhaps the fact that she is taking this too well is the issue for him, but he simply can't allow her to form a perspective without making things perfectly clear on his end; he wants that his reasoning resonates with her in a sense.

'Mm, okay,' she nods again, hopefully glad that she won't have to split her soul or damage it.

'Only make sure that she knows why she's to suffer…' he adds, pausing only a tad to pull in a steadying breath enough for him to evenly say, 'and when you have done that, you shall remove me from your memory.'

'No,' she instantly drops the single word, the weight of it settling deep enough into his bones to undo the lightness that her previous 'Hi,' brought him.

It's –

He's –

'Yes,' he nods, softly fighting her with that.

The alternative is -

He knows, oh magic, he knows. And if didn't know, he sees what he's doing to her. All of the brightness that she had for being with him, he's dampened it significantly. She stands before him no more than a dimmed down version of her usual self under any circumstance. It's a vast contrast to what she brought him, what he is turning out to do to her.

Damn it!

He doesn't want to do that to her, but what must be done, must be done. He, of course wants her to remember him for simply existing, to recall him as Severus through her eyes, yet the life of Severus Snape has and always will be up for the giving. Truly, what's one more sacrifice to make beyond the grave?

'Severus, no!' she fights back despite her desperate tone.

'Yes, my darling,' he whispers, also stepping close so as to assure her with his touch, only she moves back to avoid it, the action stinging him right in the chest.

'No!' she contests. 'Don't call me that! Not for this! You asked me for one evil thing.'

'Listen to me, please,' he attempts to reason.

'No,' she refuses with a long headshake. 'Harry and Ron are waiting. I already said that I can't stay long.'

She then tries to back away to leave, but his encasing cloak doesn't allow her to, which thankfully gives him the time to explain himself to her.

'When I die, you shall not waste your life remembering that a dead man loved you,' he pleads, moving closer still, but not touching her lest she rejects him. 'It will bring you nothing good. Of what benefit will it be to remember me?'

With a breaking face, she murmurs his name, 'Severus...' as though it will be the last breath that she takes. 'I can't.'

Yes, he agrees that it's not ideal, it's only that he wants her to not live as he lived. He was close to her age when he created his own tragedies, and to imagine that she would possibly live a dour life because of him... He simply can't have that image as the life waiting for her.

'Albus was convinced that you would meet a boy outside of Hogwarts,' he begins, trying to convince her that there is another life path waiting for her. 'Meet that boy, and forget that you ever knew me,' he gently urges. 'You are capable of whatever you put your mind to. Hmm?'

She says nothing to that for a moment, but her eyes do scan his face a few times over, clearly letting him know how lost she's feeling at the moment. He understands her struggle to understand and accept him, but in truth he's only covering important things before his time comes. Precisely during their silent moment, however, out of the corner of his eye, he notices a light come on in the upper room of the cottage, and suspicious about it, he looks back at her.

'It was only that, what you needed to know,' he tells her, carefully backing away as he means to leave right away, only, she manages to catch his arm before he can Disapparate.

'No, wait!' she urgently cries, and though he does halt his plan, he can't allow her to do that.

'You really must control that impulse of yours,' he cries just as urgently as her, because had he left, he would've taken her with him.

'You can't just leave me like that,' she spits while holding tighter onto his arm. 'How do you expect me to forget you? Just because I'm young, you think I'm not capable of remembering you even when you die?'

He never said anything about her youth, wherever she deduced that from.

'You will waste your life, don't you know?' he asks with all sense of begging. 'Remembering someone no longer alive is painful. Most of your days, you want to die only to get a glimpse of them.'

'I can't forget you,' she begs in return, and one overhearing would assume that he has her at wandpoint to do the opposite of what she is saying. 'You can't make me!'

'No, I cannot,' he admits, prying his arm free to capture her face between his hands in the hope that she will listen to him better that way. 'But hear me, I am not doing this to hurt you.'

'You are,' she sobs.

She means either that he is hurting her, or he is doing what he is to hurt her, which in either case would be wrong, seeing as he only wants to protect her, his dearest darling, from a lifetime of aching and longing.

'I am not,' he assures and then frees his hand to take hers and place it over his heart, where he pats with her hand to prove otherwise. 'Here... It aches when you cry.'

'You want me to forget you,' she retaliates by wrenching her hand away. 'How do you think that makes me feel? I can't forget you. I won't. And if you ask me to, I'll make sure to duplicate and store my memories.'

She is capable of that, but she mustn't, please.

'Don't,' he weakly asks.

'Then don't ask me to forget you. That's selfish!'

But he is a selfish man, apparently. Hasn't she heard? He is so selfish that he wants goods things for himself and that those good things never know the true span of misery. In a world where sadness and misery abound, he is selfish in that he wants to hide her from it, and for that reason, he makes another attempt to reason with her.

'You will be the only one to remember me,' he gently warns her, wishing that his words would appeal to her. 'No one else will care to remember me. You will be alone in remembering me, and you will be lonely as I was. No one will share in your pain with you.'

'I don't care!' she rasps horribly. 'I don't want to forget you. I don't want you to die! You can't just do what you want! You don't care about my feelings! How could you? I trusted you to understand how I feel about you! How could you use that against me now? It's the only thing I'm not sure about it and you use it against me?'

Ah, she has an insecurity, he rapidly puts together, considering her earlier statement. For someone who always knows the answer, he understands what a struggle it must be to not be sure about something so serious. Mixed with being on the run and tracking pieces of the Dark Lord's soul can't be helping her either, and for that reason, he leans in to press a long kiss on her forehead.

She is upset, he knows. And yes, he is hurting her more than she can show, but if she would only understand.

'Understand me, please,' he softly asks, placing another kiss on her forehead to quell her, and though he sounds like Albus to his own ears, he doesn't regret it.

Were he to regret it, her arms coming around him, holding on tight and her head coming to rest on his chest would surely rub it out completely, leaving him only with a sense of solidarity between them.

'You're not being fair,' she whispers, sending small vibrations through his chest with her softness. 'So if I die, will you take me from your memory?'

'Never,' he determines at once and like her words were a direct threat to him, pulls her closer into him with an unshakable firmness.

How that pains him.

Both the idea of her dying and of him removing her from his memory. There simply isn't a way about it. If she died in front of him, he would love her still, preserve her memory still. If she got married to another right before his eyes, he would love her still. If she renounced him, he would love her still, because he loves her.

'I could never,' he emphasises more to himself than to her, to which she rightfully scoffs, as one of her hands gather a handful of his outer cloak into a fierce ball from the feel of it.

'You shameless hypocrite!' comes from her through a horrible rasp. 'I'm not some helpless dame! Why don't you trust me to keep you too, Severus?'

'The Dark Lord is erratic since your escape from Malfoy Manor,' he explains as gently as he believes will assuage her the tiniest bit. 'I trust him less than I trust a disarming spell to kill someone. I distrust him, not you.'

And for as long as he doesn't trust the Dark Lord's moods, he won't be still about putting things in order before he dies on any summons.

'You will be fine,' she tries, even lifting her head to look at him. 'You are a great wizard, you can defend yourself.'

You won't die, she is essentially saying, or bargaining rather. But if she only knew his true position with the Dark Lord, she would hear him and swallow that bitterness as she should.

'It'll be fine, Severus,' she says again. 'You've always been fine.'

That is where she is wrong, he has not always been fine. Although as reluctant as he is to remain quiet, he will not contend with her on that. Rather, he puts her back in his embrace, tucking his chin into her neck, only just then, a dark yelp sounds from the cottage. It's a horrible sound, perhaps amplified by the quietness of the hour or, more likely, intensified by the sudden fire scorching his entire arm, but whatever it is about it, he acts no better than roughly ripping away from her.

He needs, absolutely needs to answer that call and instantly, for if not, his arm will burn off!

'Severus!' she exclaims as she rebounds back to him as though thrown back by a bouncy barrier to clutch onto him for support and make his mind begin to race.

No, no, no!

No...

'Let go,' he rasps to her, too shaken to forcefully pry her off him and a little too late it is, because unable to resist the dark call, he takes her with him.

No...

The word and the thought are no use, as he, along with her, he is already travelling through the prick of time, instantly landing in a place that his widely alert eyes recognise. He can barely breathe as his eyes swiftly dart around the room to catch the various groups of people appearing from thin air. Some appear together in clumps, while others follow those who landed before them, in coming to a curious standstill around the room. As their eyes also scan the room, accompanied by their little murmurings, he comes to understand how equal they were in being caught off guard and being pulled here. Undeniably, whatever each of them had been busy with – and this is true for those in their sleeping attire - none expected the inescapable pull to bring them here.

What has he done?

And the Dark Lord, where is he?

He hasn't laid his eyes on the master yet, and that ought to be something to soothe him, yet it only makes his heart race faster than he thought was possible to do. More so when a sharp gasp sounds next him, alerting him to catch one man's naked, very excited body and startles him out of his assessing haze to do the right thing. He charges quickly, like a man with no time left in the world, tucking her into him for hiding. After that, his true mind kicks into place, remembering to remove her from among all these dark people and so pictures a deserted place where he swiftly Apparates them.

Once there, settling his feet onto the crunchy ground, his body succumbs to a great trembling that forces him to pull her into him as an anchor to himself. Fear attacks him from one side, as does despair from another, both whispering unbearable things enough to make his heart taste death with every beat. Pushed to such an extreme, his hold around her turns into a dangerous grip, probably suffocating her, thus her trying to push away from him.

'Severus,' she groans against him, struggling and protesting his ever-tightening hold. 'Let go.'

No.

He refuses to do that.

His mum died, and then Lily died, so he can't let her go, he can only keep her close to him, which is what he is doing.

'We left,' she tries again, her tone taut with desperation, still trying to free herself from him. 'Let go, Severus.'

How can she ask that of him?

To allow her to slip through his grasp and...?

No. He protests again, the verbal sound that he makes coming from the deepest of his throat, only to be muffled by their closeness.

'It's okay, Severus,' she tells him in a gentle tone, also running her hand down his back to maybe soothe him. 'I saw him. He was there on the floor, and he looked to be in pain, but we left. It's okay.'

He hears her, even understands the words coming from her and what they are supposed to do, but his heart cannot accept any of it - it's much too fright-filled to. Having brought her to the worst place, among the worst sort of people, it still tastes death and –

'No,' he whispers, gripping her harder again.

Had he been able to talk himself out of her presence with the Dark Lord, she wouldn't have gone unnoticed by a few others, Bellatrix especially. He made a grave mistake and everything about it is hitting him too hard now, the consequences that would've come from it, burying him too deep in fear to allow him anything but holding her close.

She must understand him, please – he can't let her go.

'Severus, you can't keep me from leaving,' she grinds like it's hurting her even to say. 'I need to go before anything else happens. Please listen to me, no one saw us. We're safe and I need to go back.'

He groans at her ask, shaking his head as he does, because it's much too much for him to do. If not for her taking the immediate chance to rip herself away from his hold, quickly remedy the blow with taking his face into her hands and looking at him with desperation on her face, nothing would have made him release her.

'Look at me, Severus,' gently leaves her mouth, and though he doesn't feel strong enough to face her, he does, his eyes burning and making him blink profusely to remedy it. 'We're safe,' she assures as gently as the hands on his face feel. 'Let me go. You have to go back, and I need to see Harry. I think that he tried to destroy the cup and - You-Know-Who, I saw him - It didn't look like he was prepared to see anyone – It seemed like a surprise, and I think it's because of the cup, so I need to check on Harry!'

Doesn't she understand?

They were right among those people! And that on top of not being able to resist the Dark Lord's call when he was with her! The possibility attached to that…

'Hermione...' he pleadingly sobs, or maybe cries out; he isn't certain which, he only knows that she mustn't leave him, please.

'No, Severus,' she boldly refuses, scrambling to move her hands down to his covered neck.

She needs to go, their priorities are calling, he hears what she doesn't say, and because of that, he stills, only allowing her moment to do what she thinks is best. No, his feelings can't be consoled by that, neither does he want to them to be, but what more should he do when she's already releasing him and reaching up to the elastic band keeping her hair tied?

'Make me a Portkey to the cottage,' she requests just as she easily loosens her hair down to her shoulders and shoves the small black ring up towards him.

Should he beg her one more time?

He wonders this as he reluctantly takes his eyes off her to the band. He also has the priority of returning to the Dark Lord's side to hear what instructions he was supposed to receive, and here he is, only concerned with making sure that nothing happens to her. He nonetheless brings out his wand to do what she is asking, and in pointing it at her hand, he realises that his hand is shaking. She doesn't seem to notice it, almost instantly grabbing it after he lift his wand's tip away and just like that, she vanishes from sight.

For the immediate moment after she vanishes, he remains still, blinking once and only doing that, he suddenly can't breathe. In a single moment, he can't breathe well, feeling completely weak as his heart races and his body shakes. Defeated so, he sinks onto his knees and roughly hitting the ground, he lets out a loud howl born of hopelessness and deep anguish. What he has done, he will never be able to atone for in his life, as short as it is already. He will take his grave mistake to the grave with absolutely no remedy.

He doesn't deserve to be alive.

He endangered her - her, the only one who's every given him what he longed for and more.

What a vile, vile person he is!

And feeling every bit the part, he lets out another long cry from the heart, his face falling flat onto the ground, where the taste of dirt, dried leaves and small twigs enter his mouth, but he doesn't care. He should be one with the debris under him - it's the only justice in the world. There should be no separation between him and it, as he clearly isn't any worthier than dirt. And so he breaks down, completely and uncontrollably weeping.

26Chapters

Eventually, when his tears have run out and he's weakened enough to be easy prey to an angry Dark Lord, he pulls himself up from the ground. Just as he is, changing nothing and putting nothing in presentable place, he places two fingers over his Mark, using that as a guide to take him to the Dark Lord's side.

Simply showing up with no certain invite is a risk, he knows. Things could go deadly in the blink of an eye, he also knows. But, how disgusting a piece of rubbish would he be to be concerned for his own life, when he couldn't prevent exposing her to evil people? That thought precisely, keeps him upright upon landing just shy of the other wizard standing by the window.

'You called, my lord,' he speaks as though nothing unusual transpired some time ago.

Oddly, his presence, his words and his appearance, are all met by a blank, inexpressive face, save for the red eyes that stare into his. What's not odd, is his disappointment in that the Dark Lord doesn't look to be in a punishing mood. He'd been counting on a punishment, but now...

'Would you care to enlighten me about your absence, Severus?' the Dark Lord asks somewhat politely.

'It was a slight detour that I'd visited prior to your call, my lord,' he tactfully says, fully aware how weak of an excuse it is.

Bad, unfortunate things have never been far from him, hence his hope that his callousness would enrage the Dark Lord enough to punish him and make him suffer as Bellatrix did during her interrogation.

Oh, how he wishes.

If he could be tortured, be made to feel physical pain as intense as his internal hatred.

'A detour,' the other wizard pronounces, still sounding polite, only looking away this time.

Should the behaviour be understood correctly, his concern is elsewhere more than it is between them, but still, he'd like to poke and remind the Dark Lord to punish him for insubordination.

'Forgive me, my lord,' he pokes. 'I should not have given that priority over being at your side.'

'Find Harry Potter,' flatly meets his apology, clearly proving where the Dark Lord's mind is and shutting his attempt down. 'He has attempted to take my life tonight. He has failed, but his failure only indicates that he will make another attempt. Find me Harry Potter,' he hisses.

It's the first slip of emotion to come from the Dark Lord, and clearly a dismissal that he cannot defy.

26Chapters

For a morsel of penance, he took the torturous route of flying through the air back to the castle on a transfigured broom. The wind beat against his face, the cold of it biting into his skin and tormenting his open eyes, but still, it wasn't enough suffering to endure. He needed more than only that, hence his inexpert dives and swerves through the air in the hopes of colliding with invisible dark witching sources, or at the very least, crashing into some trees. Neither the former nor the latter happened, but how was it possible that he could do something so despicable and not experience any punishment for it?

The question ripped into him, gashing right into the deep of his soul, and causing him to fall back into uncontrollable weeping as he flew through the air. The way that he cried so pathetically, as though he was the one who was wronged, he never believed that he would stop. That more so, once he made it to his office unseen, unheard and unharmed, only to find all the portraits sound asleep in their frames. He'd been counting on finding Albus awake and had so expected to hear the man gloat about his previous warnings on keeping her close to him. That it didn't happen in that way provoked him to more tears.

And then forced him to leave his office for his bedroom, which then left him with no other choice but to reflect on everything, leaving nothing out, until at last, the remainder of the night slipped into the early morning. The morning came demanding that he fulfil his duties, of course, and so despite being unfit for anything at all, he got up, cleaned himself and emerged well-groomed to stand in front of Albus. Once again, he has made a grave mistake and has come to grovel in front of Albus for a form of direction. Despite their different opinions, in the end, Albus is who can help him, who he can trust and that is the worst.

'You present yourself much better this morning than earlier,' Albus comments, the eyes roaming over his form raising the suspicion that he had feigned sleep earlier.

'I took her to the Dark Lord's presence with me earlier,' he drops with insufficient shame.

The words shouldn't leave his mouth so freely, as though he was asked to confess his sins... Speaking them will not clear him of that evil. And Albus... He shouldn't simply look at him without judgment or reproach...

'Tell me the truth, Albus,' he demands as much as he can through a cracking tone. 'Can I protect her? Lily...'

After placing her in danger, he'd come running to Albus to protect her, because he couldn't have done it. Now that Albus is dead, if he can't protect her, where can he turn to?

'Hmm,' the portrait appears to consider before asking, 'Was she harmed?'

He shakes his head but looks at Albus with heavy shame at his inability to protect her. There's no mistake, that she was unharmed has solely to do with her own fortune and nothing from his end.

'Then she will be fine, Severus,' Albus says, attempting to assure and console all in one. 'She is extraordinary in her use of magic.'

She is, she really is, but Albus isn't grasping the heart of the matter, so he reaches up and grasps portrait, taking it down from the wall into his hands' desperate grasp.

'I don't doubt her ability,' he delivers hoarsely. 'It's the Dark Lord's current position that I do not trust. I am at his service. I could never separate myself from him.'

And for that reason, he doesn't, can't trust himself with her. He once told Albus that the man who was preferred in return was a stranger to himself, and here he is, deadly afraid of himself and what he may be pushed to do. On his worthless life, he would rather his own hand take her life than have the Dark Lord even acknowledge her presence. He isn't sure what sort of love he has for her if he would opt to kill her, he only knows that he couldn't bear it if he lost her by the Dark Lord's hand.

He is deadly afraid that she will be taken from him and that because of him. It isn't a dark fantasy of his, that fear, it simply is as it is. To date, he has never been able to protect any of the significant women; his mum died while he was away as did Lily. Such experience has cultivated the fear that he bears now. The fear of finding her body accidentally - for her body will be left behind and forgotten about as if she were nothing and unloved – is tormenting him so very much.

'You are crying, dear boy,' Albus softly, if not sympathetically alerts him.

It's a surprise, one that has him quickly blinking to clear his eyes, if indeed they are tearing up, but doing that only makes a few drops splash onto the portrait.

He's crying.

Again.

He will never stop, it appears.

He will not dry his eyes either, or hide his tears from Albus.

'She was more rational than I,' he brokenly recalls, his fingers twitching around the portrait's frame. 'In the face of death, she bore it better than I.' – He, who's had countless close meetings with death – 'She understood her priorities more than I.'

He was so forcibly weakened that he actively ignored his duty. And just as Albus had predicted and warned, he faltered in his role – something that would have meant her very life if not for her bravery and courage.

'It is to be expected, naturally,' Albus softly reasons. 'She has never experienced loss as you have, Severus. Neither has she any concept of losing a loved one as you do. She acted as she understood to. It couldn't have happened any other way. Understand that and forgive yourself, dear boy.'

'Forgive my-' he begins in a horrified whisper, only to choke on the last word when a sharp pain hits his heart.

He is undeserving.

Never before did he feel undeserving, unworthy or too vile for her. Because she only ever made him feel like a normal person, one entitled to normal and very trivial things, he never found the space to feel as though he was aiming to achieve something too pure for himself. On the contrary, he simply took everything as it came from her and basked in it as he found himself in the spirit to, without question or evaluation.

Right this moment, however, he feels woefully undeserving to even think of her.

'Forgive myself?' he tries again, lifting his hands with the portrait in them, bringing Albus' image up to his face.

'Yes,' the image answers in earnest, crassly making the sharp pain from before stab him again.

'Never!' he hoarsely cries just as he hurriedly moves to place the portrait back in place and put some distance between himself and Albus' rotten ideas.

'Why ever not?' Albus asks, refusing to accept the answer.

'Because I couldn't lose her by the hand of another,' he begins to explain, and that again without requisite shame. 'He has become unorganized and sporadic. He could kill at any given time, and at this stage of his vulnerability, he wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who crosses his path. I fear that I may have to kill her, and you want me to forgive myself?' he lets out a cold, very short burst of mocking laughter here, preceding his convicted, 'Am I not unworthy of forgiveness? Am I not undeserving to love her, if I can do such a thing as kill her before anyone else does?'

There's no doubt about it - he is utterly loveless if he would kill her before he allows her to be killed by the Dark Lord, yet he would. In his mind, should it come to it, he would sooner live hating himself for killing her, than live hating himself for allowing the Dark Lord to touch a hair on her.

'Answer me, Albus!' he demands without raising his voice, watching the other man's face intently so as not to miss any clue related to his answer.

Other than give him any such clue, though, Albus only lets out a quiet, 'Only you can know,' before stepping from sight and leaving the portrait altogether.

Wonderful, he stares at the place where Albus had been, he was no help - he was supposed to affirm his self-loathing.

He needed, still needs to hear that he is everything that all the others painted him to be and worse, but with Albus gone, there's no one left to dig that hole deep enough. If anything at all, the image's leaving invites Fawkes to come and settle on his shoulder, butting his head down his neck and crooning there for a moment.

It seems to feel a lot like comfort, what Fawkes is doing. He cannot be certain that it is, though, because underneath Fawkes' soothing blanket, he still feels like the rot that he is.

26Chapters

The thing leading him to knock on Minerva's open door, is the very Pensieve in his hands. He is far from finished with it, although for the purpose of presenting his dire case to her, giving it up is necessary. For however long she may use it, he is prepared to be without it, thus him bringing it to her.

'Excuse me, Minerva,' he steadily announces himself at the door after the knock. 'May I have a word?'

Desperately needing her co-operation as he does, he will stand outside her threshold like a frightened student, lest he barges in without her consent and upsets her mood to converse with him at all.

'Come in,' she calmly invites, partially studying the item in his hands, then closes the door behind him just he steps in, and telling him to, 'Have a seat,' which he does without further prompting.

'Do you recall Albus' will to us?' he presents along with placing the Pensieve on her table and then fixes his eyes on her.

'I do,' she replies rather curiously as she sets her current parchment aside to focus on him. 'Is something the matter with you?'

With him?

Oh, how unexpected, especially the small detail of giving him full and proper attention despite everything.

Truly, considering their shaky interactions up to this point, he hadn't believed her capable of sounding concerned about him. Perhaps she isn't truly concerned for him, and is purely acting the part, although in the moment, while he is in the state that he is, he doesn't deserve her concern - not when he can barely bare the look of his own reflection when immerses into the Pensieve.

Thinking of the Pensieve, he gives it a small nudge towards her, saying, 'I need your word concerning this memory.'

Her eyes naturally stray to it with question, and then returning to his face, she wants to know, 'What is it about?'

'Something very important to the person involved,' he selectively responds. 'Whatever your position concerning me, I need your word that you will fulfil it.'

'I couldn't possibly agree to anything that –'

'It's the only thing that I can ask of you,' he implores as he cuts her off, going as far as to get on his feet before her. 'I only need your word, Minerva. Consult it with Albus if you have to, but only give me your word.'

He understands where her distrust comes from, and though he could simply tell her what the memory is about to ease her apprehension, it would defeat the Pensieve's purpose. Plainly put, he needs her to see the memory for herself, but she doesn't look the least prepared to agree to his terms with that look on her face.

'I cannot –' she tries to refuse again, which he doesn't allow her to complete again.

'She deserves vengeance,' he hoarsely lets out and it seems that he drops the words to a consuming silence, because nothing is heard after them for a while.

Minerva must understand, please...

He cannot presume to know what she is thinking, if she is contemplating his unusual ask for help as curious, but if the silence will work in his favour, he will preserve it - even painfully, if he has to.

'Who?' she questions at long last, also rising onto her feet with her eyes trying to penetrate into his soul.

She is no mind reader as far as he knows, however, it is his suspicion that she is putting small pieces of what she has seen and heard together, and is simply waiting for him to confirm it.

He will confirm it.

After all, it had never been his plan to withhold what she was set to see in the Pensieve sooner or later.

'My sweetheart,' he tells her evenly, so evenly in fact, that one would ascertain his frequent use of the horrific word.

It is his hope that she hasn't forgotten his answer concerning the Patronus that interrupted their meeting that day.

'Your...?' she lets out gasping, realisation no doubt hitting and claiming her all at once.

'I beg of you, Minerva,' is his response to her, and yes, he would get down on his knees if he should.

Minerva remains his only choice now, unfortunately. His darling agreed to kill Bellatrix, no problem, but wouldn't hear word of addling with her own memories, hence Minerva. Quite possibly, Minerva wouldn't be fond of the idea to touch a bright mind in that manner, but she would go through with it if it was necessary.

'Whose side are you truly on, Snape?' she wonders with narrowed, probably calculating eyes.

Though not entirely surprised by her asking, he thinks as she stares at her in silence for a moment, there is still a small part of him that is disheartened by her question. All it would take is one talk with Albus to get all of her answers, but clearly she has no desire to do such a thing. But it's no wonder really, there's only one person in the entire world who doesn't constantly suspect him, and it's that person that he needs to look after through whatever method. Only she gave him the chance to demonstrate that he can be caring, attentive and all those things that his father never was, so for her sake, he will take Minerva's distrust.

'Look at the memory,' he quietly instructs.

He does so instead of telling her that he has never been on his own side from the beginning, for the reason that some things do not need to be known in order to be true. What's more, what difference will it make at this stage?

'When I have the time,' she tightly responds, clearly displeased with his evasion.

She then brings out her wand to begin levitating it to one of her cupboards, and supposing that they have concluded their talk, he turns away to leave.

26Chapters

Maybe he should have waited for more than three days to pass by since the incident, or rather, he shouldn't have thought to come for her at all. It's only that he needed, no, craved to see her face.

Only that.

And perhaps embrace her after pleading for her forgiveness.

He is confident enough, well, less apprehensive to face her now. The fear of attracting trouble to her is still present, in fact, he doesn't truly believe that it will ever leave him, and as she appears from around the cottage's corner, wearing her hair loose and an expectant look on her face, he fully understands why that is.

With that understanding, he takes a subtle step back for proper, preventative distance between them. Seeing him, she hurries to him and though he doesn't catch her doing it, he feels her hand on him and before he knows it, he's landing somewhere else.

From recent experience, he immediately wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling her into a tucked and protective position. Only once he confirms their deserted location, does he exhale in relief, then tug away from contact with her.

'You shouldn't have done this,' he says, circling his finger in the air to show what he means as he takes a large step away again, at which she frowns.

'We couldn't stay there,' she dismisses, trying to move to him, but he holds up his hand between them, effectively stopping her.

Long ago, he wondered how one small person could reduce him to a state that even the Dark Lord could, and over time, he has come to realise why, but it's in this moment that it's clear the most; she is his deepest weakness, because hurting her is equal to maiming himself.

'Remain there,' he advises for her own good as well the good of his own heart.

'Why? Did he do something to you the other night?'

She asks it as one who would avenge him should the answer be positive, and partly for that reason, he remains quiet, only taking her in.

'Say something,' she tries. 'Are you all right?'

He gives her nothing still, not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't seem to get his mouth to open all of a sudden. He really shouldn't be with her, he's realising. This is someone who dared to upset the headmaster as revenge. Being on the hunt for pieces of the Dark Lord's soul, what's to say that she won't try to avenge him in some manner, should he have suffered that night?

'Severus,' she tries again, taking a step to him, which he dodges by taking his own step backwards.

'I only needed to see you,' he says to ease the pained look on her face.

He also only wants her close to him, but that is madness, so he will not do it.

'Okay. If you can't be away from Hogwarts, I'll leave with you,' she offers, but what is she doing?

Did nothing of what happened the other day etch itself into her memory? Was she really so fast to forget that he cannot, under any circumstance keep her with him for longer than necessary? It's not as though she needs him in the destruction of those soul fragments in any case.

'No,' he firmly denies her. 'If I were to be caught with you...' still rejecting the idea with a moving head, no matter how much he'd like to cave into her offer.

'We won't be!' she cries, once again moving to him and again he moves back.

'Stay there.'

Instead of feeling hurt this time, she shows him a determined look, to say, 'I'm sorry for following you before. It was very thoughtless of me, but I won't do again. You can trust me.'

He does trust her, and he could tell her that it isn't a matter of trust, more than it is a point of fear, except that would resemble him and Albus too much. There's something about her and him that reminds him of himself and Albus lately; she in his role and he in Albus' role.

What a turn, he never thought the day would come where he would understand Albus' imploring and pressing while in his own shoes, but here he is, doing just that.

'If you were to die…' he utters again, making sure that his eyes never leave hers so that she understands.

'Don't say that!' she snaps, her hand coming to wipe her forehead furiously. 'I can't think about it. There's already Harry and I -'

'It's a very real possibility.'

That night was the first time that he was confronted with the very real idea that she could die, that he wouldn't ever see her again.

The gnawing thing about that, is that were it to happen, he would have no moment to mourn her, nor would he be able to follow her into death. Those things would be scarce luxuries to him, as he would have to fulfil his vows first and then still live on to struggle with her death before probably dying himself.

'It could happen,' he carefully says, hating that he should be so blunt with the one who gave him the opportunities to expand beyond the dour outward man.

'I don't know!' shrilly comes from her, followed by crossing her arms over her chest. 'Don't ask me to think about horrible things like that! I walk around next to Harry and all I think is what will happen. And what if I die? Who will tell my parents? Will they ever know? Would they even get my body, or will the world be so destroyed under his rule that they wouldn't be allowed to? I'm also afraid of what might happen. I'll do my best not to, but if I die, I don't know, Severus.'

'Do you see?' he asks simply.

It's there, it's written in invisible ink, death is an overwhelming possibility, unfortunately. As much as they shouldn't have to die, war is war, and neither of them should delude themselves into hoping for more than they ought to.

'So you just want me to stay away from you?' she laughs mockingly. 'Do you really think that I don't think about you dying? Are you – I'm terrified of getting the news that somehow you died. You said it yourself, he isn't himself and I know Harry isn't himself lately either. Can't I just leave with you? No one will care if I do. We anyway need to get to Hogsmeade tomorrow.'

'Come to me tomorrow,' he reasons.

It's a least a comfort that he can offer her, whether or not he will be available to see her.

'Why not today?' she uncrosses her arms. 'Why not now?'

'Tomorrow,' he maintains, watching her whole body break down into surrender.

'You're selfish,' she whispers.

And she is torn, he can see it on her face. On the one hand, she wants to be with him, and on the other, she knows that she should listen to him.

'Tomorrow, and please do not follow me,' is all that he says.

Hesitating a little, she sets her face right and tries to convince him with, 'I have a tent. I'll bring it and we can stay here in the tent.'

Now she's doing more than begging - is he the cause of it? He wonders, because she usually does things for herself, she can think well after seeing the Dark Lord, but she's soft for him? He remembers a time when she would fight him, but then again, he also remembers a time when he wouldn't have had this level interactions with anyone. The fact that they are both soft for each other is detrimental to themselves.

'No,' he refuses as the result.

He really cannot stay.

With her, he has peace, making it very easy to get lost in the liveliness of being with her. When he doesn't have to be on his guard all the way to his core, it's so easy to get swept away in the moment, and damn it, that is too dangerous at this particular time.

'Then go,' she crossly flings her arm between them. 'You obviously want to.'

No, he doesn't want to, but says, 'I will see you tomorrow,' nonetheless.

As soon as the last word leaves him, she disappears from sight just like that, both robbing him the chance to read her face and leaving him to blink at the spot where she had stood.

She left.

Oh, that hurts, but with no alternative, he bears the dull ache by swallowing the lump forming in his throat and pressing his eyes closed as he tips his head back to keep his gathering tears from falling down his face.

26Chapters

Tomorrow turned into today, and today is about to be over with no word from Hogsmeade. It is probably still to come, most likely in the early evening hours, but that is unlike her. Her way is not through the dark, no, she prances about in the day, wearing disguises to see him.

Sighing lightly, he looks over at his fireplace, waiting...

But perhaps he shouldn't expect her after rejecting her as he did yesterday, only he does.

He wants to get word from her, either by owl or Patronus or any of the elves at her disposal – Kreacher, Dobby and Winky.

He wants to see her again, and so he longs to receive a message from wherever she is, to fetch her and bring her here.

He sighs again, just waiting for her appear any minute now...

26Chapters

Whether it was by design or coincidental that tomorrow became eight full days, he doesn't know. What he does know, is that he is beginning to lose his mind, because the one calmly walking in through the Hall doors can't be her.

She has gall and courage, but that?

So stunned he is that for a moment, he's only able to watch Carrow rush to her side from his vantage point. As headmaster, he called a quick meeting with the students to inform them about Harry Potter being spotted in Hogsmeade an hour ago, it just never crossed his mind that while here, he would witness her freely walking into the Great Hall.

Dressed in a light green jumper and dark jeans, she certainly stands out in a sea of black robes, although what stands out more than the hair around her face, is Carrow's hand reaching out to grab her arm.

Wha - How did Carrow spot her and move to her so quickly?

'Looky what I have here,' Carrow loudly announces, laughing. 'I know someone who'd pay me for you!'

No. Just no.

'Carrow!' he thunders from his place, eliciting sharp gasps from what sounds like everyone, but too concerned with that hand upon her, he doesn't care to confirm any of it.

At the speed of lightning, he strides to the doors, meeting Minerva on the way, overtaking her and reaching them in more time than he would have liked.

'Release her at once,' he reverts back to speaking softly, and in the small second that Carrow looks at him as though contemplating to tell him off, he pries Carrow off her and pushes him a footstep behind her.

Minerva catches up with them then, demanding, 'Get your hands off her!' to either Carrow belatedly, or him.

For his part, Carrow sneers at her, visibly mocking her whereas he simply ignores her, to look at Miss.

'You will follow me and will be extremely truthful concerning Harry Potter's whereabouts,' he delivers in a firm, loud enough voice for showing the attentive crowd.

After that, he smoothly ushers her away from Carrow and Minerva, carrying on with leading her out of the Hall without touching her. In silence, they continue away from the crowd until the very first door on the left, where he enters. Entering a little after him, she slams the door shut.

'Did he do anything to you?' he asks, carefully looking her over.

'What?' she frowns.

'Carrow,' he clarifies, reaching out and pulling her from the door. 'Did he do anything to you?'

'Like a spell? I doubt it,' she answers, shaking her head.

Hmpf! Doubt is not certainty, and he needs to be certain of the fact.

'Stay still,' he commands before leisurely running his wand in a wave up and down her body.

'He did nothing to me,' she maintains, apparently not interested in staying still.

'I need to be sure. Stay still.'

Practically being upon her, he hears her sigh, maybe impatient, maybe unwilling, though she doesn't hinder his diagnosis. He takes his time, doing as he did after Bellatrix and looking into her eyes once he is finished.

'You are all right,' he declares at last. 'He did nothing.'

'I told you. I wouldn't have let him anyway,' she waves it away with her hand. 'And that's not important. Harry and Ron are with me, they're looking for a diadem with Luna in the castle. They need a good distraction to look for it and I offered.'

Yes, she offered all right, by walking into the Great Hall when he was busy addressing the students.

Such an immaculate idea she had!

Really, her confidence in him or herself astounds him.

'We sort of contacted Remus to get the Order ready, and we only need to find what we're looking for before they arrive,' her explanation to his silence begins. 'We are quite close to getting all of the - All of them,' she corrects herself, 'but my nerves are rising so much. It feels like my skin is made of busy ants and they're just busy working. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm sick, but I think it's everything. It's worrying about you and Harry and Ron and Luna and how everything could go from today. I'm so worried about doing all this and losing the fight anyway. Or losing you somehow. I worry about my parents every day. I worry so much, and I feel like I will lose my mind soon, Severus. It won't shut up, it's always coming up with things that frighten me or keep me awake. I started sneezing a lot yesterday and I think I'm sick. I don't know if I'm sick sick or if I'm worried sick, but it's all so much. What if we don't succeed? What does Dumbledore say? Do you think we could go and I could ask him?'

Having spoken, she searches his eyes for a bit. He, on the hand, simply cannot believe that she is real. It grips him so tightly that they truly wound up together to this point, being members on the same team, yet also connected by their feelings for one another. Wasn't it just the other day that they were on shaky ground with each other and now it's as if that small part never happened between them?

'My darling...' the whisper fluidly eaves his mouth.

Or should he say her real name instead? He rather feels that those two words sum up everything; his admiration for all that she is to him, his gratefulness for her connection to him, and his love for everything that she allows him to do to her yet still return to him when he doesn't warrant it from her.

'Oh, right. I'm sorry, Severus,' she smiles at him, lifting on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips, showing him another smile when she draws away.

But…

What in the world...?

Between last speaking to him, leaving him actually, and now barely hearing anything from him, where did she conclude that he wanted a kiss from her? He hasn't seen her in days, days that he has been living in agony, does she really think that a small kiss is what he needs from her?

'You're not…?'

Upset with him anymore, he wanted to add, but that should be obvious from her plunge into exposition, shouldn't it?

'What?' she asks, perfectly nonchalant about it.

Maybe he is too inexperienced with being on the outs with someone, it's only that for someone who abruptly parted with him previously, she seems to absolutely have forgotten about it. Who is he then, to contest that?

'You are sick?' he questions instead, following her neutral lead.

To answer him, she nods, beginning to move around him and influencing him to move with her, so that he is the one with his back to the door.

'I'm not entirely sure, but I think so, yes. It might be the flu. The symptoms feel like it.

'Since when?'

'Um...' she hesitates, apparently thinking about it. 'I wasn't sick the last time we met. It feels like a flu, but it could be in my head. I really don't know.'

'It's only that?' he asks, carefully studying her.

A flu, even a cold is nothing serious, but if there is more fatiguing her body, he'd like to know about it.

'Yes,' is her reply. 'I can still breathe through my nose and all, it's just...' she trails off to look at him as if contemplating something, only to shake her head and say, 'I'm fine, it's nothing.'

It sounds too much like a cover up to him, like a manipulative 'trust me' sort of thing to distract him from the seriousness of the situation. That being so, he should push for her to be completely honest with him about her flu, but in the end, it's only a flu, which he could easily treat with something from Poppy after their talk.

'I only need you to be very careful, do you hear me?' he cautions as he takes a step to place an encouraging kiss on her forehead. 'How many more of those are left?'

He certainly hasn't kept count or delved deep into what they could be or where they could be located. Neither is he offering to find out now, he mostly only needs to know how much further she will be on that mission while possibly ill.

Worryingly, she doesn't give him an answer right away. She looks away, in fact, hiding from him, and he can't keep from thinking that she's allowed Potter to wring him into something unthinkable.

'Look at me, Miss,' he prods. 'How many are left?'

'Just the diadem,' she answers with her face still turned away from him, 'his snake, and then...'

'What?'

She trailed off, and only now she's looking at him, her expression making something inside of him drop; she better, for the sake of his sanity, not say something as unthinkable as killing the Dark Lord.

'I think that Harry might be one as well, Severus,' she gets out, and so defeated she is about it that he doesn't know how to console her.

That he cannot yet speak, only look at her silently, has very much to do with fact that he is taken-aback. In part, he is caught unawares by the revelation, and at the same time hugely relieved by it, and lastly, rendered brainless for never having considered the possibility of such a thing being the case. That is why Albus told him about Potter and the Dark Lord?

He is gobsmacked!

Damn Tom Riddle!

And damn Albus Dumbledore!

Both of them made it come to this; him being confronted by the reality of Lily's son dying, and that at a most inopportune time.

'You knew, didn't you?' she seems to conclude somehow. 'I have gone over it in my head, and it makes sense that he is one. I'm terrified for him, Severus. He's told me all about destroying one of those things. About the diary and the locket... It's - He's going to have to die, isn't he?'

Oh, if it was only that.

And worst of all, he has to move his head in a nod as though he knew it all along, to answer her and then watch her break out into a sob.

'Albus passed it onto me that the Dark Lord himself has to be the one who kills him,' he confesses, and it's both for himself and her that he automatically gathers her into his arms.

Though she is Potter's friend and has much more appreciation for his life than he does, it still stings him with pain that he was put in a position to care after a boy who would meet a death of this magnitude. He knew that the boy would be a sacrifice, but never attributed it to this being the reason. Right now, clinging onto his love, he is starting to grow deep respect for the boy. However did the boy manage to remain humane with a piece of the Dark Lord always lurking about in his mind, intertwined with his very soul and being in constant spiritual contact with all of that darkness? The sheer thought of Potter's strength is too strong that he pushes back from holding her, to then hold her face in his hands.

'It is crucial, I believe,' he says to her, not necessarily in comfort, although if it would stop her tears...

It's all for naught, however, for her tears flow more freely than before.

'I don't want him to die,' she sniffs, also bringing her hand through the loop made by his hands on her face to wipe some of her tears away. 'I wish there was something I could do for him.'

He gets the sickest feeling at that, and where he should grasp her tighter and urgently, he pulls away entirely.

'Don't sacrifice yourself for him.'

Even as the words leave him, he feels woefully unprepared for the thought of her dying in Potter's stead for absolutely nothing. His whole body seems go tremble, his stomach turning wildly when she looks at him as one so fragile.

'I will hate him for all eternity, if you do such a thing,' he warns for emphasis, meaning every word.

Very quickly, he'd forget the respect for Potter withstanding the Dark Lord's influence should it come to her dying for him.

'I can't die in his place, I know that,' she tells him.

Or rather, she laments, because he cannot call that accepting the warning. Despite that, however, he fully understands the lament for her friend, which is why he moves back to her and kisses the side of her head. Though not much, it's at least some form of comfort where his mouth can't say anything comforting concerning that impending death.

'You only take care of yourself and Potter,' he says, drawing away. 'Knowing what you know, you must be strong, for there is no other way, I am afraid.'

'I'll try my best,' she nods. 'I don't have my wand, but I've been all right so far, so I think I can manage it.'

He clearly didn't hear her well, so he asks, 'Your wand?' in as polite a tone as he thinks is necessary to receive a clear answer.

'Yes,' she nods again. 'I don't have it. Harry needs it more than I do here.'

She's joking, surely.

Surely, he should be amused if not laughing.

'Why are you telling me things of this magnitude, as though I should know all of it?' he asks, a little disturbed even though obviously, she's pulling his leg. 'You speak of serious things as though they are but small blimps in your everyday life. You don't have your wand?'

'I broke Harry's, so I gave him mine,' is her answer to him. 'It was ages ago, so we've been sharing mine.'

Ages ago, she says.

But this girl...

'How long ago?' he demands, because the idea that she's been moving around without protection isn't a welcome one in his head.

Didn't she just say that Carrow wouldn't have done anything to her? What would she have used in her defence then, her hands?

'It doesn't matter, Severus,' she dismisses and specifically with that, the lid that had been keeping everything under control blows off.

'It doesn't matter, how?' he cries in a tone that not even he recognises. 'Did you not just tell me that you are sick? You're bound to lose your shield as well at this rate. Where have you left your mind? How does your wand not matter to protect you?'

'I didn't think of that,' she admits, forcing him to simply stare at her for a beat, just waiting for whatever other crazy confession she will bring out.

Where did he go wrong in emphasising that he needed her to be safe at all times? Doesn't she understand that he wouldn't ever like to feel the pain of losing her?

'You're not stupid,' he says after a while, reminding her in fact – just in case she forgot about who she is and what she's able to do.

'I know!' she says with a light frown. 'I just – It's hard to think of everything all at once! Sometimes the small things just don't occur to me and then – I don't know, Severus! Just let it go. I don't have my wand. I'll find Harry and Ron, and I'll make sure to keep close to them.'

Hmpf!

As if he would simply allow her to walk out of here unprotected with Carrow roaming free!

'Take mine,' he insists, already pulling out his wand and depositing it into her hand where she cannot refuse it.

She does try to refuse it, however, her eyes shooting out in surprise at him and then looking down at the piece of wood in her hand. Slowly, she bring her eyes back to his, her eyebrows coming together in a disbelieving expression.

'You can't be without your wand,' she counters, trying to hand the wand back to him.

'I can manage without it.'

To be honest, he's never tried to be without his wand in his life. Even at the times when he was ambushed, he always had his wand, so there is no proven proof that he indeed can manage without it. Although between her being without a wand and him depending on a conduit to use his magic, he would rather that she had a conduit for her magic.

'Are you sure?' she eyes the wand.

'Take it,' he answers.

Thankfully, she accepts it, smiling at him as she grasps it tightly, then quickly lifts on her toes to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

'Thank you, Severus.'

As she pulls back, he manoeuvres his hands and arms to find their way around her and pull her into a tight embrace.

She will kill him with worry, this girl.

'I missed this,' she confesses in the embrace. 'And last time you made me so angry, it hurt.'

He knows, he is repentant about it, and when he has enough of a chance to apologise properly, he will do it. For now, his priority is her wellbeing.

'Be extremely careful, will you?'

To answer him, she nods, then oddly brings her hand up to her mouth to suck on. Intrigued by action, he waits for her to release it before taking it into his hand, and seeing the small gash there, red, obviously still fresh, he questions her only with a look.

'It was an accident just now as we were coming here,' she explains. 'There are so many ways to get into Hogwarts, now that I think about it. It's not as protected as it should be. I have to go, though. Bye,' she ends, completely separating from him and tucking her hand behind her.

Without her grazed hand to look at, he's only left to look at her, but did he ever mention that she'll kill him with worry?

How many other small things is she keeping from him?

'Bye,' she repeats to his silence. 'And thank you for the wand,' brandishing it for him to see. 'I'll try to return it in one piece as soon as we're finished.'

Still, he says nothing, letting her walk off the three steps to the door, and it's when she reaches for the handle, a sudden pressing feeling enters him. He can't be sure what exactly it is that is pushing him to think of sending her off properly, he only understands that he needs to do it. I won't be the last time that he sees her, yet he wants her to know it anyhow.

'You know how I feel about you?' he carefully calls after her, effectively stilling her movements and turning her back to him.

'You love me,' she answers with a jolly nod and beaming about her answer right after as though she knows everything about everything.

Why, the little darling that she is.

She looks like she just scored infinite Os, and oh, is she flustering his heart!

'I do. Truly,' he admits with his lips turning up into a touched smile, resulting in a blinding beam from her.

It's more glorious than the one before it, and so blinding it is that before he can comprehend that and how she moved so fast, his quick, thoroughly-trained reflexes catch her leap into his arms. A jubilant laugh accompanies her arms going his neck and her legs wrapping around his waist, and thank magic that he caught her, because the pleasant vibration of her happy laugh against his chest wouldn't be passing through him and filling him up with abundant joy.

It's the first time in his life that he's ever felt such inexplicable joy, and that from a simple thing as an embrace.

He always thought that his height of happiness would come from having Lily loving him as he loved her, but it turns out that it's this; the manifestation of seeing his darling elated by the knowledge that he loves her, as if it's the highest praise to exist in the entire world. His love evidently, is so special, so significant and so very wonderful to have.

'I do,' he softly repeats into her hair, just to elicit more happiness from her.

He's greedy for it - such a glutton he is!

'I'm staying here with you tonight,' she responds definitively. 'I don't care what you say.'

'Hmm,' he accepts, swelling up too much with joy to even open his mouth.

She is everything in this life for him, and being so, he presses her her tighter into him for a mere moment before he gets too carried away and refuses to release her. Too soon, he pulls them apart, setting her down on her feet to admire her face before she goes.

'See you,' she lifts her hand in a small wave.

'Later,' he confirms with a nod, and then she's turning and pushing out through the door, leaving it ajar for him.

For a breath afterwards, he smiles to himself while looking through the open space, thinking just how dearly he loves her.

26Chapters

According to Carrow, he was sent for, and while on the surface, he's giving nothing away to the messenger, he would be lying if he said that the summons doesn't terrify him. Specifically because the message comes from Carrow and that after the Dark Lord's announcement to deliver Potter to him within an hour, he is perfectly in tune to feel apprehensive about the summons.

'Where is he?' he pensively asks, his mind mostly focused on how long ago he spoke to her.

Carrow could very well have mentioned that meeting to the Dark Lord, hence the summons. If so, how many minutes can he use to look for her before appearing at the Dark Lord's side?

'Just get to him! You know how!' Carrow spits through a disgusted look before turning his back, obviously no longer interested to answer more questions.

Damn it - he shouldn't be needed yet!

And damn it even more - he doesn't have his wand in the event that he needs to urgently use it!

'Don't keep him waiting, Snape!' Carrow shouts over his shoulder as he steps further away, leaving him with the hollow feeling of a plummeting spirit.

There was never a moment during the past two weeks when he felt at peace and sorrow free until just a while ago, but even then, his morale never dove this far under.

Sacred magic, he's...

The implication of the summons...

But even so, he obediently places his fingers over his Mark to instantly land him a good distance away from the Dark Lord in a dimly lit room. Had he the luxury, he'd stealthily look around their location, but with the air thickly made up of uncertainty, he keeps his eyes trained on the pale wizard as he presents himself.

'My lord.'

'Do you know who possessed this wand, Severus?' the Dark Lord questions, visually ignoring him as he is more occupied with raising said wand to a higher angle, where he slowly rotates it for studying.

'Albus Dumbledore,' he answers, which earns him a contemplative nod.

The somewhat telling nod aside, he catches the other wizard's short glance to the snake beside him, and that truly is a tell.

That snake has one piece of his soul, she told him, so no wonder the sphere of protection encasing it now. It was never so protected before, which makes him wonder if the three already destroyed the diadem? And if they did, has she informed Potter about his role yet?

'Pardon me, my lord,' he begins the attempt for an escape. 'Might I join the others in locating Harry Potter?'

If the only piece that remains is the snake, then he must find Potter.

'You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus,' the Dark Lord responds, ignoring the request as though it was never made. 'I wonder if I have ever said.'

Damn it, the wizard isn't giving him a window of opportunity.

Now how does he excuse himself?

There is only so very little that he can try to sway the conversation with the Dark Lord. As such, for now, he can only follow where he is led - perhaps he will find an opening somewhere down their talk.

'There is no need, my lord,' he carefully dismisses - as he should. 'To serve you is glory enough.'

'Hmm,' the Dark Lord hums noncommittaly, looking at him then, fully looking at him.

For a moment, it appears as though he has pacified the quietly agitated wizard as the silence stretches on with no other communication from the Dark Lord. Opportunistically, he seizes the opening to try and make his escape again.

'My lord, Potter is within the castle walls,' he says, his heart's fear leading him to take a single step forwards in order to fool the other wizard into lowering his guard. 'I shall fetch him and bring him here to you. He shall not escape.'

'No,' comes the too patient answer. 'I wish to tell you about this very wand.'

'As you will, my lord,' he duly replies, but magic please keep his heart still and help him find his way to Potter before it's too late.

26Chapters

Everything failed.

Flattery failed.

Pleading failed.

He failed.

And now Potter will never know what he was meant to know.

Neither will she, his dearest one, get her chance to spend tonight with him.

This is the end, him falling here to die by Nagini's fangs.

But though he failed and though his purpose in this war will never come to light, he was going to stay with her tonight. However that would have turned out to look like, he's certain that he would have been at peace with her.

Hm, such a peaceful, happy thought to die to.