A/N: Thank you all for the patience and continued reviews even though updates are far apart. I do intend to see this through to completion, no matter how long that takes. And, since I'm not sure how long it will take me this time, I decided not to end on the cliffhanger I initially planned. You're welcome.

I look forward to reading your reviews as a belated birthday present. Oh, and Happy 2017! May it be much better than The-Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

Bound to Him

Chapter 77

"Minerva," Dumbledore greeted, rising slowly from his chair. "I did not expect a visit from you tonight."

"That makes two of us, Albus," the witch replied tersely as she shut the door behind her.

He eyed her speculatively when she strode into the room with a determined look on her face and came to a stop next to the chair before his desk. "Won't you sit down?"

McGonagall tightened her posture. "I'd rather stand if it's all the same to you."

"Ah," the wizard commented with a tilt of his head. "You will not mind if I sit, will you? I find I grow quite fatigued after these long days."

Don't we all? She cleared her throat and dipped her head. "Of course not, Albus."

Dumbledore wearily sank back in his chair and made a show of adjusting his robes before meeting her eyes once more. "Now, what is it I can assist you with?"

"I have a few concerns."

"I see," he replied slowly. "And what might these concerns concern?"

Minerva rested her hand on the backrest of the chair beside her. "Harry Potter… and the Dursleys."

His eyes widened a fraction. "Something about Harry's family is troubling you?"

"It has been brought to my attention that those people have not cared for the boy as they ought to have done."

Dumbledore frowned. "Has Harry spoken to you of such things?"

"No, but –"

"Then what, may I ask, has convinced you of this?"

The tug at her consciousness indicated his attempt at Legilimency and served to irritate the witch further. Sensing she likely should not bring Severus into the discussion when she purposely waited until he was asleep to confront the Headmaster, Minerva crossed her arms. "As you well know, I assigned Harry to report to Remus regularly as punishment for his unjustified attack on the Malfoy boy."

"Yes, of course." The man nodded. "While I am still not certain it was necessary, I support your decision nonetheless."

The Deputy Headmistress recognized his rebuke and stiffened. "Frankly, Albus, I do not care whether you support it or not. The boy needs help, and not just from you considering that you will be dead before June. He will have to trust and be open with at least someone in the Order if we are to be successful in continuing on after you are gone."

He gave a heavy sigh, but haphazardly waved her on.

"It was a result of these discussions that Remus felt that Potter may not have been treated well by his relatives."

"So," Albus murmured, "Harry has spoken to Remus about the Dursleys, then?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Not as far as I know, no. But isn't that in itself an indication that something is wrong?"

"Harry is a very private young man," he replied. "If he does not speak of his relatives, it does not necessitate that they have mistreated him."

"But he does speak of them," she countered. "Indirectly, at least. He has never opted to return to them for the holidays and has requested he be allowed to stay here through summer as well!"

"Hogwarts is a very special place to many people, young and old," Dumbledore stated wistfully. "He is certainly not the first, nor I expect the last, to make such a request."

"After hearing Remus's concerns, I made a few inquiries," Minerva continued. "Were you aware that those people withheld food from him?"

"Ah, I suppose you spoke to Miss Granger or one of the Weasleys, then?"

"It does not matter which member of the Order I spoke with," she snapped, intending to shift attention away from Hermione. It was not out of the realm of possibility that an owl could have been sent to Molly or Arthur, after all. "What matters is what the Dursleys did!"

Albus gave a small shake of his head. "Minerva, do you really think I would have allowed such abuse to occur?"

I would like to think not, but who knows what you're capable of. The witch shook her head. "Of course not, Albus."

"I'm given to understand it's a common occurrence for children to be sent to bed without supper when misbehaving. Is that not so?"

"I'm certain it is," she muttered. "But –"

"Molly has always fussed over those she considers too slender by declaring them underfed," Dumbledore chuckled. "You yourself have commented on the surprising amount of food Harry and the Weasley children can consume without showing any evidence of it."

"I have, yes," McGonagall admitted.

"That report, then, is likely nothing more than exaggeration, either on Harry's or Molly's part. Given the frequency with which Harry has been known to challenge the rules here at Hogwarts, it would not surprise me that he had done similarly with the Dursleys, and that they would have to implement some form of punishment."

Snorting, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It would not be terribly surprising, no."

"Despite what Severus might sputter, I do not believe the Dursleys have catered to Harry's every whim. He is far too well-adjusted for that to have been the case."

"Well-adjusted is a stretch, Albus," she scoffed. "The boy does have issues."

His eyes twinkled. "A great many if Severus is to be believed."

"Yes, well, we're not discussing Severus right now. His issues are another matter altogether." Minerva took in a breath and relaxed her stance. "We are discussing the Dursleys."

"Yes," Albus nodded, straightening in his chair. "What else have you heard?"

"Bars on his window," she replied. "That is not a common occurrence when disciplining children."

"No, I admit not." Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I did speak with them regarding that incident. It seems they were under the impression that Harry had intentionally disrupted an important dinner party and very nearly exposed his magical abilities in front of unaware Muggles. In fact, he received a warning from the Ministry regarding it."

"But bars on the window?!"

"They were concerned Harry would attempt to sneak out as he had done on previous occasions, or vanish the glass as he had unintentionally done in the past. I, of course, did not agree with their solution, but they were not entirely incorrect. Harry still managed a spectacular escape, aided by the Weasley boys in that flying car."

"Bars, Albus! As though he were in prison?"

"Minerva, I dealt with that situation nearly five years ago. It occurred once, and everyone agreed it would not occur again." Dumbledore leaned forward. "I grant you that the Dursleys may not have been the ideal caretakers for the young Mr. Potter given that they had no experience with handling magical children… but I thought, and still think, them the most suitable candidates for the position. Harry may have enjoyed living with members of the Wizarding World more so than with his Muggle relatives, but that would have jeopardized his safety and hindered his development into the role he has been fated."

McGonagall pursed her lips as she stared at him in silence.

"I can see that you are not entirely convinced," he stated before slowly rising to his feet. "And I am sorry for that, but I assure you, Minerva, I have not made decisions unless I thought them for the best. You will realize when the Order is yours to command that your choices will not favor everyone equally, but that hopefully they will contribute to the greater good."

"Albus, I realize you have to make difficult decisions, but are you certain –"

"The blood wards protect Harry better than anything can. It was essential that Harry stay with the Dursleys." Dumbledore steadied himself on the edge of his desk and then gestured toward his private quarters. "If you might excuse me, Minerva. I believe I must retire for the evening."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

With a jerk of his head, Severus awoke and blinked away the blurriness. Rubbing his forehead with his freehand, he glanced down to where Hermione still slept against his chest, no doubt drooling on his robes. With a sigh, he rolled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the black cat sitting on the chair where Minerva had last been.

"And where has she gone, then?"

The cat merely blinked in response and tucked its paws under its chest.

"I take it I won't like the answer," he grumbled. "Bloody Gryffindors… always going off half-cocked."

"Uhhnot now, Sev'rus," Hermione hummed in her sleep. "Too tired."

A confused frown on his face, Snape glanced down at her until he realized what she meant. Despite the circumstances, he gave an amused snort before attempting to extract the arm pinned beneath her. The girl groaned at the movement, but continued sleeping as he flexed his hand to encourage sensation to return to it. He eyed the clock and sighed, knowing he ought to wake Hermione up and send her back to her dormitory. However, he also did not wish to interrupt her sleep since he thought it unlikely she had managed much rest the night prior.

His inner turmoil became a moot point a moment later when the door slammed open to admit a seething Scotswoman. Having been startled himself, he barely managed to grab onto Hermione as she toppled off the couch, which resulted in her landing awkwardly on her bum with her upper body supported by his arm. A hasty apology tumbled out of his mouth upon realizing that his hand had unintentionally ended up on the side of her breast.

"Forgive me," Minerva sputtered as she shooed the cat out of her chair and sank onto it. "I'm dead scunnered with the bastard! Fecking hell, Severus. How I could've been such a blind huddy all this time frightens me."

Snape raised an eyebrow as he helped Hermione up from the floor. "And how is the Headmaster this evening?"

The Gryffindor Head let out a loud huff and crossed her arms. "Manipulative. Has an answer for everything and using every opportunity to demonstrate his frailty."

"How hard did you push him?"

"Not near as hard as I would've liked to!" she snapped before rubbing her face and taking a deep breath. "I kept the two of you out of it, and allowed him to think that complaints had come to me from Remus and Molly Weasley."

Severus listened while she detailed her conversation with Dumbledore and quietly contemplated the information after she had finished. Hermione, however, could not bear the silence.

"Do we not trust his answers?" she asked, glancing between the two professors. "He has to care something for Harry. If so, why would he hide that Harry was being abused?"

Minerva rubbed her eyebrow. "I don't know that he wasn't telling the truth. What I do know is that it was a conversation he didn't want to have. Perhaps he merely did not want to admit that I was right to question Potter's placement with his relatives, or perhaps there's something he is hiding. I cannae say which way."

"Oh god. All this time…" Hermione shook her head in frustration. "I've always told Harry to talk to Dumbledore if something was wrong, but if… what if…"

Snape sighed loudly. "As Minerva said, we don't know that the Headmaster is concealing anything. Perhaps it is just exaggerated teeanage frustration."

"You hardly seem convinced of that, and you'd be the first to blame it on Harry," the girl muttered, rising to her feet. She paced around the edge of the sofa and wrapped her arms about her waist. "What do we do now?"

McGonagall closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know what there is to do about this right now. Potter isn't expected to return to the Dursleys until the summer, and we have other matters to attend to before then. As much as I would like to get to the bottom of this, I think we need to put this aside for the moment."

"I understand," Hermione replied in a whisper, dropping her eyes to the floor. After a few seconds, she sucked in a sharp breath. "If you don't mind, I think I'll return to my dormitory."

"Of course, dear." Minerva rose from her chair. "Would you prefer to use the Floo?"

The young witch eyed the fireplace briefly before shaking her head. "I think I'd prefer to walk, thank you. I need time to sort things out in my head before I see Harry."

"Alright." The Deputy Headmistress squeezed the girl's shoulder gently as she passed by. "Sleep well, Hermione."

Hermione flashed a tiny smile and paused in the open doorway. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night… Miss Granger," Snape murmured, receiving a small nod in response.

Once the door closed, Minerva turned to face the wizard perched on her sofa. "Have you quarreled with her as well?"

"We had… a row of sorts yesterday," he admitted.

The witch grunted as she reclaimed her chair. "I suppose that's unavoidable given how much strain you're both under. We hardly clear one hurdle before stumbling over two or three more, it seems. Were you being unreasonable again?"

"No. I merely suggested testing for pregnancy, and she became angry with me." He pressed his knuckle into his temple. "I'm not surprised that she's upset with me given the havoc that casting the Cruciatus no doubt wreaked on her emotions."

"Give her a few days to come to terms with things," McGonagall suggested. "And for you, as well. She wasn't the only one affected by the possibility of pregnancy."

Snape inhaled sharply and fixed his gaze firmly on the fireplace, determined not to think about his nightmares.

The woman quietly watched the subtle traces of emotion trail over his features. A few minutes later, she tilted her head. "Regarding the Dursleys… you were quieter than I'm used to. What are you thinking?"

He grimaced and rubbed his hands together. "I don't know, Minerva. Had you asked me a few days ago, I would have unequivocally agreed with the Headmaster regarding Potter's exaggerating his misfortunes. Granger was accurate in her accusation. But now? I honestly have no idea what to believe."

She pinched her mouth into a thin line and stood up again. "I need a nip of something. Care to join me?"

Though he made no reply, Minerva poured two glasses of Scotch. She held one out to him before sitting beside him on the sofa. "Friends don't let friends drink alone."

Severus rolled his eyes, but sipped his drink along with her.

"May I say something without upsetting you?" she asked, studying his face. When he jerkily gestured for her to continue, she set down her tumbler and folded her hands in her lap. "I don't quite agree with Remus. At least, I don't agree with him comparing Potter to you, if that's what he did. Is it?"

His dark eyes were trained on her face as he dipped his head once.

"I've had the experience of teaching both you and Potter, and I cannot see more than a few similarities. Frankly, not ones that would point to shared circumstances." Minerva grabbed his arm when he grimaced. "Just listen, please. I don't like dredging up things that hurt you, but I can tell you're going to keep thinking about it anyway."

"You yourself compared me to Potter," the man pointed out in a petulant tone.

"Yes, I recall that. However, I merely was referring to your flair for the dramatic, which is a trait you did not have as a child. At least not one that you displayed in front of any of your instructors." She inhaled deeply and shook her head. "I don't think you've been entirely mistaken in your impression of Potter. I may not have agreed with you so much during his first few years here because he struck me as a rather stable balance of both Lily and James, but more recently… I see much more of his father in him now."

"I seem to be the only one who doesn't think that a compliment."

"You're not the only one, Severus. I much prefer Potter as he was during his first few years. Even then he was too reckless and self-sufficient."

"And arrogant."

Minerva frowned and reached for her drink. "I don't recall him being that arrogant as a first year."

"Then perhaps you had a different Harry Potter sitting your class," he muttered over the rim of his tumbler, "because the one who sat mine has always been an arrogant, little shit."

The witch snorted loudly. "I think you may have imagined things."

"I assure you not."

Her expression was one of bemusement. "Severus, he was an eleven-year-old boy who knew nothing of the Wizarding World. He didn't know anything more about you than any of the rest of us, so why would he have reacted to you differently? Unless you deliberately antagonized him, but even then arrogance would not be the typical reaction. Anger, fear, frustration, dread, resilience…but not arrogance."

Thinking of the smug look that had been on Potter's face during nearly every encounter with the boy, Snape tossed back the remainder of his drink and then stood. "Fine. Believe what you will."

"Severus, I'm sorry. Where are you going?"

He gestured to the clock on the mantle. "It's nearing curfew. I have rounds, as you should know seeing as you were the one who set the schedule."

"Shite, and I just fed you alcohol."

"Never fear, madam. I am far from inebriated," he sneered, opening the door. "Besides which, I fully planned on gargling mouth rinse before setting out."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

At the sound of a quiet knock, McGonagall raised her head from the exams she was marking. "Come in!"

"Good afternoon, Minerva," Remus greeted as he entered her office. "Oh, I, uh, see you're busy. I could come back later if you'd like."

"No need. I'm nearly caught up with what I wanted to finish before supper." With a flourish of her quill, she finished her written feedback and cleared the parchment to the side of her blotter. She then gestured toward the seat across from her. "Now, what is it you require?"

The greying wizard shifted in discomfort upon claiming the chair. After several seconds, he finally cleared his throat. "I had a conversation with Severus… a few days ago."

Fighting the urge to grimace, Minerva straightened her posture. "Remus, if you've come to talk about the Dursleys, I want you to know that Severus has already brought your concerns to me –"

"He did?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"He did. And I, in turn, took them to the Headmaster." She took in a deep breath. "The Headmaster believes concern is unnecessary."

Remus nodded slowly and rubbed his forehead. "Well, I must say that is a relief to hear. I did tell Severus that I was not certain of anything."

"Of course."

"But that wasn't the only reason I wanted to speak with you."

Minerva raised her eyebrows in anticipation. "Something else troubling you, Remus?"

"I realize I pressed Severus farther than I had intended, and he understandably lashed out at me in return." Lupin stared down at his hands for a moment. "But what he told me… I never knew. And I keep thinking about it, wondering if… I don't know. If it was true? Except, I can't imagine he would lie about something like that. Perhaps once I may have believed it of him, but not presently. So I suppose I'm wondering if you knew."

As he looked to her expectantly, the witch barely managed not to roll her eyes. "Forgive me, Remus, but perhaps you might explain just what it is you are referring to, and then I may inform you as to whether or not I knew of it."

"Oh!" The man flushed in embarrassment. "I guess I just assumed Severus may have… I suppose he wouldn't have, though."

"No. Apart from your concerns about Potter's relatives, he only made vague references to the fact that you both struck hard for the jugular."

Remus winced and hung his head. "We did do that, yes."

Crossing her arms, Minerva leaned against the side of her chair. "Remus. I like you, but for Merlin's sake, get to the point."

"Right. Sorry." He sat back and laced his fingers together. "What did you know about the special award that Professor Dumbledore gave to James?"

"The one for special services to the school?" she questioned, surprised by the direction that the conversation had set off in. "I know that I thought that was a bit excessive, but the Headmaster assured me the averted crisis more than earned the honor. As I recall, Sirius thought he would prove himself worthy of the Gryffindor name by visiting you while you were… transformed. James went after him, saved his idiotic hide, and prevented the hellfire that was sure to have rained down on our heads if the Black family were to have discovered their heir, however disappointing he may have been to them, had been mauled by a werewolf."

Seeing his stricken expression, she grimaced. "I apologize, Remus. I meant no offense."

"N-none was taken," the man stuttered before scooting forward to the very edge of his chair. "It's not that… That's honestly what you were told about the incident?"

"Yes." Minerva eyed him nervously and unfolded her arms. "Why? Are you about to tell me that Albus lied to me?"

Aware of the hard edge in her voice, Lupin hesitantly nodded his head. "The basic premise is somewhat correct, I suppose, as James did save someone from… from me. But it wasn't Sirius he pulled out of that tunnel."

"What?"

"It was Severus."

Her eyes widened, and her stomach all but dropped to the floor as she gradually rose to her feet. "WHAT?"

Remus flinched. "You really didn't know."

"No, I really didn't know!" she snapped. "Fucking shite. It was Severus who…"

Her voice broke and came out again as a whisper. "How did he even know about the shack then?"

"Because he's the most observant person I've ever met." The werewolf sighed and donned a pained expression. "He noticed something… off about me – I know he tried to caution Lily about trusting me – and Sirius used it to his advantage. He baited Snape to keep him interested in trying to find our secret, to incriminate us, and somehow that night… I don't know what he said or did, but somehow Sirius tricked Snape into going down that tunnel."

"HE DID WHAT?"

"James learned of it, or was involved with it – I honestly don't know which – and went after Snape because he knew he was walking blindly into a death trap." A few tears gathered in Remus's eyes as he looked away from the angry witch. "I didn't realize how close I came to murdering Severus that night until now."

"Oh, Jesus FECKING Christ!" McGonagall squeezed her hands into fists as she began to pace behind her desk. "I swear to God, if that fucking knob-end, halfwit Black were still alive, I would personally send him to hell. And Albus lied to me about it! How DARE he –"

Remus coughed loudly and leaned forward to get her attention as she continued to rant. "Minerva! Pardon me, but I'm not finished."

I don't think I can take anymore. Pressing one hand into her chest, however, she ceased her pacing and turned to face him.

"I was angry with Sirius when I learned what he had done, what he had nearly let me do," the man continued. "But what I didn't know, what I just learned from Severus… was that Professor Dumbledore placed the significance of the blame on Severus. James got the special award, Sirius was given a week's detention, and Severus… The Headmaster threatened to expel him if he didn't take an oath to not reveal anything about my condition or what happened that night."

"What?" Her voice came out in barely more than a whisper, and she truly felt the room begin to spin.

"The Headmaster held him to that oath until… until three years ago, when I nearly killed Harry and his friends. And Severus. Again."

Minerva stared at him for several minutes, confounded by horror. It was as though her body could not decide whether it wanted to explode or implode. As though she were going through an incredibly rough Apparition, but without ever moving through time or space. She wanted to cry, to scream, to be sick, to curse Albus into oblivion, to wrap her arms around Severus and never let go… but she could not find the power to do anything but stand in place.

"Minerva?" Remus anxiously stood and moved toward her. When he was immediately in front of her, she grabbed onto his wrist.

"He was released from it three years ago?" she asked, searching his eyes. "Why wouldn't Severus say anything to me about it? I've pushed him to set aside his past issues with you so many times, but he's never said a word about this. If I had known, I would never have pressed him. Why didn't he tell me?"

Lupin shook his head. "I don't know. Perhaps he thought you already knew?"

He thought I knew. A pained cry escaped her at the thought, and McGonagall bent forward, clutching at her chest with both hands. It hurt worse than when she had taken all of those Stunners the year before, but she knew her heart was not failing at this particular moment. It was simply breaking.

As if suddenly recalling that the woman had been hospitalized within the past year, the wizard lurched forward and helped guide her into her seat. "Minerva, are you alright? Should I fetch Poppy?"

"No, don't fetch Poppy," she hissed, rubbing her sternum. "Who you can fetch is Albus fecking Dumbledore, so I can beat the living bejesus out of him, turn him inside out, and then shove his manipulative, minging head onto a bloody pike."

Remus gave a surprised laugh in spite of the situation and perched on the corner of her desk. "Are you alright?"

"Physically, yes. Otherwise, no. I am not alright." The witch inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "Merlin. How could he have ever forgiven the Headmaster enough to do what he does?"

"I don't know."

"Bollocks. If it had been me, I would have marched right into You-Know-Who's parlor, offered him my services, and never looked back."

Wincing, Remus looked up at the ceiling. "I just can't understand it, Minerva. Why would he… Why would Dumbledore value my life more than his?"

"I don't know, Remus," she sighed wearily. "I haven't the faintest idea what the hell goes through that man's head."

They sat together in miserable silence for several minutes until the faint chimes of the clock called out the hour. The wizard then let out a deep sigh and stood up. "Are you going to supper?"

Scowling darkly, Minerva shook her head. "Even if I could manage to find some semblance of an appetite, I cannae be in the same room with Albus right now. Frankly, I don't believe I want to see that man again until he's deceased."

After Lupin quietly took his leave, the woman pushed out of her chair and moved to stand in front of her window. Though she stared out at the blackened sky, her attention was focused internally. Not only had it slipped her notice that Severus had come from an abusive home, she also had been completely oblivious to the fact he had very nearly died on her watch.

It had been twenty years, but she did remember things from the morning after the incident. She recalled seeing Sirius's detentions in her log, hearing the excited murmurs about the award, and striding forcefully into the Head Office demanding to know just what had happened. She had been irritated that the Headmaster had stepped into her role, assigning punishments and awards to students of her House, without even notifying her. Her irritation had abated somewhat when he detailed everything that had occurred and explained his reasoning for his response to the situation. She had not been wild about granting a special award since she thought it would draw questions they did not want to answer, but she agreed that a week's detention was probably adequate for an idiot adolescent who had narrowly avoided death.

But the bastard had lied to her! Not just skirted the truth or twisted words – he had flat out lied to her face. A week's detention for intentionally sending an unprepared person to face a transformed werewolf was the most pathetic thing she had ever heard. Sirius may have been innocent in regard to the Potters' deaths, but he fully deserved those twelve years he spent in Azkaban. If Severus had not have been killed, he would have been infected with lycanthropy himself without even the support that Remus had. And to be coerced into a vow of silence regarding his own attempted murder! A sixteen-year-old boy shown that his life was worthless by someone who was supposed to protect him.

Angry tears formed in her eyes as she flattened her palms against the window sill. Albus had taken full advantage of the fact that Severus believed his existence to be less valuable than others. He had manipulated Severus by alternating guilt and condemnation with opportunities to prove himself worthy, to atone for the poor decisions he had made as a teenage wizard. Poor decisions that had no doubt been influenced by the neglect and utter disregard Severus had been shown by those that were supposed to belong to the Light.

Good god. How oblivious had she been? She had pledged her allegiance to Dumbledore and the Order, trusting him more than she had trusted herself. They all had. When Dumbledore made an edict, they all followed it, questioning him but rarely. Everything was done supposedly for the greater good, and they just went along with it. When Severus had first joined the staff and Order, even she had only trusted him because Dumbledore told her she should. The entire Order only trusted Severus because Dumbledore trusted him.

And Dumbledore had been fully intending to rip all of that trust away, taking Severus's true loyalties to his grave. Had it not been for Hermione's life bound to his, would Severus have even bothered to protect himself? Likely not.

Minerva knew Severus would not have come to her if it had not been for Hermione. He would not have risked confiding in her, trusting her, because it was not as though she had given him much indication that she trusted him for him. Would she have suspected the truth? Or would she have believed the worst of him?

She thought of their interactions over the past year, focusing especially on moments during which Severus had lowered his guard around her. Beneath the cold, sneering façade was a man who was incredibly brave, loyal, and protective of others, even when it was to his own detriment. No one had ever disputed his intelligence, but they likely had never bothered to notice that he could be surprisingly sweet or that he had a wicked sense of humor. He was strong, but shouldered far too much for one man to carry and tortured himself when things beyond his control went wrong.

With everything she had come to learn about the Severus, to consider that she could have turned her back on him cut the witch to the core. Additionally, the likelihood that he assumed she had known about what had happened to him during his fifth year but had done nothing – worse, that she wanted him to befriend the man who had nearly been the means of his death – but still wholly placed his faith in her made her sick to her stomach. It was doubtful that he viewed her as something more than a friend, but she had realized that she had come to care for him in a way a mother did her child. It angered her that Eileen Prince had not protected her son, but now it seemed likely that Severus had also excused her for her perceived neglect of his well-being as a boy.

The panes of the window rattled, and the crystal inkwell on her desk shattered. Emitting an anguished cry, Minerva shoved away from the window. She pressed her fists into her sides and took several deep breaths in order to check her emotions enough to prevent her leaking magic from destroying every glass object in her office.

Without bothering to put anything away for the night and leaving the ink spill for the elves to clean up, the witch stormed out of her office. There was no way in hell that she could find the patience to deal with anyone who happened to stop by her office that night.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

"Hermione, can I ask you a question?"

The young witch sighed, but nodded to the boy walking beside her.

"Is Ginny doing alright?"

Scowling, Hermione crossed her arms. "Dean…"

"Please?"

"Fine." She inhaled slowly as she contemplated how to answer. "She's alright, I think. Not fantastic by any means… but alright."

"Oh."

They walked the rest of the corridor in silence. Upon reaching the stairs, however, Dean paused and asked another question. "Are she and Harry together, then?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Of course, I'm sure. I'm friends with them both, and roommates with her. I think I would know if they were together. They aren't."

"Harry wants her, though; doesn't he?"

"Whether or not he does, it doesn't mean she wants to be with him." Even in the darkened corridor, she could see his eyes brighten.

"She doesn't? Brilliant."

"Ughh, Dean!" she snapped, rushing after him as he mounted the stairs. She grabbed hold of his arm and tugged him to a stop. "Listen to me. Just because she lo-, erm, likes you –"

"She still likes me?" he gleefully interrupted before attempting again to dash up the stairs.

Growling under her breath, the girl yanked on his robes to keep him in place. "Listen! Let me finish. Just because Ginny still likes you, it doesn't mean she's going to take you back. She broke up with you because you got all weird about Harry, so unless you're prepared to apologize for that and accept Harry as her friend, don't expect anything from her."

A puff of air escaped him as the tall boy sagged against the banister. "Look. I know you're good friends with Harry and all, and probably think I'm a jealous berk… but I swear I'm not making things up. The way he looks at her, the way he looks at me when I'm with her… It was almost like he thinks she belongs to him."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I know he's suddenly decided he likes her, so I don't deny he was jealous of your relationship… but I can't see him thinking that. He's not like that. You know he isn't. You've known him just as long as I have."

"I don't really think I know much about him at all," Dean countered, "except that almost everyone, himself included, think he's the Second Coming."

Her eyes hardened into a glare.

"I'm telling you, Hermione. It was dead creepy." He let out a frustrated breath. "You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. I swear I'm not."

Thinking of the few times when she had caught Harry staring after the couple, she shivered and pulled her robes tighter around herself. It had appeared strange to her, but she was not quite willing to admit that to the boy standing in front of her. "It's getting late, Dean. Can we finish rounds?"

"Sure." He nodded, and they continued up the stairs. "So… do you think if I try talking to Ginny, she might let me?"

Boys. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe? I don't know. She might let you talk to her, but I don't know if she'll let you do anything else, mind you."

Dean laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "Worth a shot, then, eh? Thanks, Hermione."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Having completed his rounds for the night, Severus finished marking the few exams he had enough patience to read before locking up his office and going up to his quarters. Upon entering his bedroom, he immediately noticed the glow of the fireplace from the sitting room. With a sigh, he cautioned himself against shouting at Hermione. It was idiotic to sneak into his quarters again, but he could chastise her without entirely losing his temper.

"Do you think it wise to..." He trailed off and came to a sudden halt when finding that the witch staring into his fireplace was not, in fact, Hermione Granger, but the Deputy Headmistress instead.

McGonagall wearily raised her head. "Do I think it wise what?"

"Never mind. I thought perhaps you were Granger. She has an annoying habit of breaking and entering." Severus strode further into the room, pausing yet again upon noticing her eyes were red and puffy as though she had been crying. "Are… Minerva, are you unwell?"

A sad look crossed her face, and she dropped her hand into her lap. "I'm not ill, no. I've just been… ruminating on things too much, I suppose."

"You were absent from supper."

"I was, yes," she murmured. "Couldn't manage an appetite."

Severus shifted nervously, unnerved by her subdued responses and behavior. "Was there something you needed?"

"Remus came to speak with me this afternoon," Minerva replied after a moment's pause.

"I see. I suppose he's now concerned that the Dursley's tried to sell Potter to the gypsies."

A smile flickered on her lips before she shook her head. "No. He… Severus, he told me about what happened… in the Shrieking Shack."

Snape growled and turned away from her.

"Severus, don't…" The witch rose from the armchair and hastened after him. Grabbing his arm, she gently guided him back to face her. "I swear to you, Severus, I did not know. I did not know. Albus lied to me. He told me Sirius was the one who had gone down the tunnel. I never knew there had been anyone else. I never knew it was you."

"Well," he muttered, refusing to meet her eye. "What could you have done about it?"

"I don't know what I would have done had I been told the truth," she admitted. "But I promise you, Severus, I would not have stood by and done nothing. I would have done something."

When he gave one nod and looked away, Minerva stepped closer.

"You were a boy. Regardless of whatever school rules you broke that night, what Albus did was wrong. He was wrong to… to diminish what happened… what Sirius did to you. It was absolutely repugnant that he intimidated you into taking an oath, using your education, your entire bloody future as leverage. Breaking curfew? Sneaking onto the grounds at night? Neither of those are even close to being an expulsion-worthy offense. The one who should have been expelled that night was Sirius!" The witch took in a deep breath and squeezed his arm. "I can tell you that much, at least. I would have demanded his immediate expulsion and, had Albus interfered, I would have contacted the Aurory and The Prophet myself. You may not have been in my House, Severus, but you were my student. It was my responsibility to protect you."

His breathing had become noticeably deeper and shakier as she spoke, and a pained expression stole over his face. Seeing that, Minerva slipped her arms about his torso.

"Witch," Snape hissed in an attempt to pull away. "What are you doing?"

"Unless you want me to march upstairs and cast the Killing Curse for you right now, Severus, I suggest you pipe down and allow me to do this." Though he groaned in protest, he did cease his efforts to escape. As he resigned himself to her embrace and begrudgingly placed one arm around her in return, the woman pressed her forehead against his chin. "I am sorry, Severus."

"I never held you the least bit responsible."

"Perhaps I should have been," McGonagall whispered. "I certainly should have been paying better attention. I will not make that mistake again."

The wizard exhaled deeply. "I have no doubts, madam."

"I am grateful for that." Minerva finally released the man and smoothed a few wrinkles from his robes. "I have enough doubts for the both of us, but I promise to do my best. And I promise to try my damnedest not to emulate him."

Severus immediately folded his arms as if to ward off any subsequent attempts at hugging him. "And do you also promise not to murder the Headmaster before I have the chance to do it myself?"

She heaved a sigh and patted his arm. "If you think that for the best."

"I do."

"Very well, then. But I reserve the right to desecrate his grave in whatever fashion I deem fit."

A smirk formed on his lips. "I should think the Dark Lord would appreciate your efforts."

"Well, we witches do like it when our efforts are appreciated."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

The office door suddenly slammed opened, causing Minerva to bungle the word she was writing on a third year's exam. With a sigh, she flicked her eyes up to the dark haired wizard striding up to her desk. "Back to this, are we, Severus?"

Snape glanced at the name atop the exam and rolled his shoulders. "I'm certain Higgins won't even notice. I doubt he'll look past the final mark at the top…if he even troubles himself enough to do that."

"Likely not, no," she agreed. "What is it you need?"

He shifted and pressed his fingers against the edge of her desk. "The Dursley's address."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she sank back in her chair. "Whatever for?"

"I thought perhaps I might pay Petunia a visit."

McGonagall tutted in surprise and shook her head. "You can't be serious."

The man raised a brow in challenge.

"You are serious, aren't you? Merlin." Nervously tapping her finger against the armrest of her chair, she studied him for a moment. "Do you think that wise?"

Severus shrugged and glanced at the clock.

"Albus will know immediately if you pass through his wards."

"I realize this," he replied. "But what is he going to do about it? He has less than a month left in this godforsaken existence. His exit strategy hinges entirely upon me; it's too late to change it now. And, he's already sworn you in as his successor. He cannot undo it. I can withstand another lecture of his."

"But what do you hope to gain?" she pressed.

"Some manner of information regarding Potter's childhood, perhaps. And, if it does upset the Headmaster enough to haul me in for a dressing down, then we may learn something from that as well."

"You're hoping he'll tip his hand," the witch surmised. "You think that what he may or may not be hiding regarding the Dursleys is important."

"I think I'd like a chance to find out before it dies with him."

"Alright, then," she murmured. "You do realize, though, that you cannot use Legilimency there, or any other means of magically inducing them to talk to you."

Severus cocked his head. "I do."

"No magic of any sort."

"I'm not about to bring the Ministry down on our –"

"I'm not concerned about the Ministry!" Minerva hissed, leaning forward. "I'm concerned about you."

The wizard narrowed his eyes until noticing that hers flicked to his left arm. "The wards recognize the Mark?"

"And are keyed to prevent any magic cast by anyone who bears it. Then, and in the future."

His gaze drifted up to her face. "You mean to say the wards present a more permanent solution."

The woman nodded and held up a finger in warning. "No magic. Do not even so much as draw your wand, Severus."

"I will contain myself. I trust I am still fully capable of riling up Petunia Evans without resorting to magic."

"Practiced your charming personality on her, did you?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. The boyish smirk on his face made her heart flutter with an odd sense of pride. "When were you planning to make this house call?"

"This afternoon. I set the first years' their exam earlier this week and dismissed their session today. If I leave immediately following the fifth years' review, I can make it back in time for the seventh years' session."

Minerva slowly smiled. "Which has the added benefit of postponing your bollocksing from Albus until after supper."

"You know, I suppose it does," he murmured, though the expression on his face fully suggested he had already thought of it.

Chuckling softly, the woman glanced at the clock and stood from her chair. "Did you sleep at all last night while planning this?"

"I slept enough." Severus took in a hesitant breath as she moved around her desk. "If you don't fully agree with this, Minerva, tell me to stand down. It's your decision to make."

"I understand that." A tense smile was on her face when she came to stand in front of him. "If you feel you will be safe doing this, then you have my support. I want to know what that barmy bastard is up to as much as you. After all, I can hardly select an appropriate method of desecrating his grave if I am not working with all of the information."

She sucked in a deep breath and sobered her expression. "The Dursleys live at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Now, escort an old lass down to breakfast?"

Snape glanced down to where she had slipped her arm through his. "That depends. Can I trust you'll behave yourself?"

"Of course, dear." She grinned up at him, amused by his eye-rolling. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Striding past all of the perfectly manicured lawns of Privet Drive, Severus was feeling quite satisfied with his decision to transfigure his clothing into a battered, black jacket and ripped jeans. He stood out like a sore thumb and had already sent one nervous old biddy skittering back in her house. Most assuredly, Petunia would not want him dilly-dallying about on her front step.

Upon reaching Number 4, he strode up to the door, pressed the buzzer, and stood confidently with his arms crossed behind his back.

"Just a moment! I'm coming!"

After wincing at the saccharine voice he had not heard in more than a decade, the wizard cleared his throat and readied himself to face the nasty woman that went with it.

The door opened quickly to reveal the unmistakable horse-like face of Petunia Dursley. "Oh, good afternoon! I apologize for the delay, I was…just…"

Severus smirked at her delayed, yet horrified reaction to his appearance. "Hello, Tuney."

Her eyes all but bulged out of her skull. "YOU! You're not welcome here! Go away!"

The force of the door slamming shut blew the hair out of his face. With a sigh, he glared at the door where he knew she was still standing. "I shall not be going away, Petunia! I'm going to stand out here until you grant me entrance!"

"I'm not letting you in my house, you cretin!" came her muffled reply.

"Bold words, Petunia! You do realize, don't you, that the longer I stay out here, the louder I'll become? What will your neighbors think, eh?"

"I'll ring the police!"

"You and I both know that won't do you the least bit of good."

Whatever she said in response was unintelligible through the door.

"In two minutes, I'm changing the color of your front door! Fuchsia might be a nice choice. It ought to pair nicely with whatever mangy flowers you put out here. Or tangerine, perhaps?" He waited a few moments and, hearing no response, delivered another threat. "When I'm through with the door, I'm going to start shouting about just how much of a HELLCAT YOU ARE IN BED!"

The door was immediately snatched open, and her scrawny arm shot out to grab his wrist. "You wouldn't dare, you –"

"Does that OAF OF A HUSBAND even know WHAT THAT MOUTH OF YOURS –"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" she screeched, yanking him over the threshold and slamming the door shut behind them.

Expelling a slow breath, Severus suppressed the urge to hiss as the wards caused his Mark to begin tingling. Instead he drew to his full height, crossed his arms and sneered down at the woman who was frantically peeking out the curtains to see if her neighbors were looking. They were not, of course, because he recognized a Notice-Me-Not charm layered into the outermost wards, but he had no plans to tell her that. Instead, he waited until she turned back to face him. "Petunia. How lovely to see you again."

"What do you want?" Petunia snarled.

"Just thought I'd pop round for a chat," he replied, making a show of his studying the framed photos in the room. "It's been far too long."

Her lip curled in disgust as she looked him over before stomping into the kitchen. It was quite evident she did not want him dirtying up any of her sitting room furniture.

"Tea?" she hissed after pointing him to one of the dining chairs.

"Ever the consummate host," he answered with a nod. When she turned away to tend the tea, he discretely pressed his right hand against his left forearm. The effect of the wards was not as painful as a summons would be, but was annoyingly unrelenting. Determined to ignore it, he cleared his throat. "I presume you're intelligent enough to realize I'm here to talk about Potter."

"The boy isn't here," Petunia muttered. "He's at school."

"Of that I am well aware. I am a professor at Hogwarts."

The woman whirled about in surprise and then raised her chin. "They let you teach children at that freak school? Their standards are clearly lax."

"Well." He cracked a smirk. "They were stringent enough to keep you out, weren't they?"

The color drained from her face, and her hands shook as she turned back to the tea.

"Dursley doesn't know about that, does he? The desperate letter you sent Dumbledore, pleading to be allowed –"

"Shut up, Snape. You don't have any bloody idea what you're talking about."

Resting his elbow upon the table, Severus scrutinized her rigid form. Things were suddenly clicking into place – her constant need for perfection, her animosity toward Lily for leaving her behind, her marriage at a young age to what was probably the first man to give her attention, the lack of any photos of her family though there were plenty of images of the whale-like folk he assumed were Dursleys on display – and it made him decidedly uncomfortable. He had not spent much time at the Evans's house when Mr. Evans was present, but had shied away from him on the few instances the man had been present. He had always assumed his suspicion of Lily's father had simply been an artifact of his fear for his own father, but perhaps there had been something more to it.

And how often did girls with abusive fathers wind up with husbands that showed similar tendencies? His mother certainly had.

Fuck. The wizard sighed as he considered just which level of hell he had descended to if he was feeling sympathy for Petunia Dursley. His disturbing musings were interrupted by a plain, white mug being slammed down on the table in front of him. He glanced at it and then at the delicate, floral teacup her hand. Clearly she would not be chancing her fine china on him, either.

"What do you want to know about the boy?"

"I've found him to be an incredible nuisance in my class," Snape explained, noting the satisfied smirk creeping across her face. "Efforts to correct this behavior have failed, so I was curious to know if you've encountered such disciplinary issues at home."

Looking rather like the cat who ate the canary, Petunia sat higher in her chair. "Of course we have! Nuisance doesn't even begin to describe the brat. He's completely unmanageable! We've tried everything to keep him in check, but to no avail!"

"And what have you tried exactly?"

"What haven't we tried!" she exclaimed. "We've given him more and more chores, removed privileges, sent him to bed without supper, restricted him to his room, taken away treats, threatened to throw him out… and still… still! The attitude, the freaky stuff, the threats against my poor Dudders!"

Snape lifted a judgmental eyebrow at the nickname. "Have you attempted more corporal means of punishment?"

The woman shifted nervously in her seat. "Perhaps, on occasion, we've given him a swat or two."

"A swat?" he intoned.

"We haven't beaten the boy, if that's what you're implying!" She crossed her arms defensively. "Vernon's sister may have been a bit harsh with him on the rare occasion she visits, giving him the occasional whack across the shins with her walking stick, but I've stepped in to keep the boy away from her! But my efforts go unheeded, and you know what he did to her!"

Tightening his grip on the handle of the mug, Severus forced himself to keep his voice neutral. "Do I?"

"He blew her up!"

He frowned. "Blew her up?"

"Like a bloody balloon!" Petunia cried, gesturing to the ceiling. "And that was hardly the first awful thing he'd done to us! Vernon was adamant the boy wouldn't stay with us any longer, but I had to… had to let him stay."

The wizard's eyes narrowed when she stumbled over her words, as if she had wanted to say something else, but chose not to. "And was that when you put bars on his window?"

"No, Vernon did that after he…" The woman trailed off and looked up at him. "How did you know about those?"

"It doesn't matter how I know. It matters that you allowed that to happen!"

"You don't understand!"

"He was a twelve-year-old boy, Petunia! You locked him away like a prisoner!"

Her fist slammed down on the table, rattling the spoons and mugs of tea sitting atop it. "You don't understand! You weren't there, Snape! You don't know what it's like trying to deal with that monster!"

"For fuck's sake, Petunia," he snarled. "He's a child, not a monster."

"Perhaps you might think that, but not any normal person." She shook her head bitterly. "Glass shattering, ornaments flying off the tree, utensils being thrown across the room, toys floating out of Dudley's reach, flames dancing out of the fireplace... It was a nightmare! Dudders screaming in the middle of the night because he was being suspended midair, and that little freak was laughing! Dudders didn't sleep for days after that, nor did the rest of us."

Severus breathed slowly as the woman proceeded to rattle off several other instances of accidental magic. He realized, though, that she probably had a point. Muggles were not equipped to handle such things and undoubtedly would find the experience both frustrating and frightening. It surprised him, though, that Potter had been so adept with magic as a young tot given his mediocrity upon arriving at Hogwarts.

"…And that was only the first two years!" Petunia exclaimed with a sharp jab of her finger. "What were we supposed to do?! We were out of bloody minds trying to keep him under control. He only settled down when we put him in time out, and since Vernon didn't want any more of that freaky stuff in the house, he spent more time in time out than out of it. At least we had some peace with him out of the way."

His eyes widened, but he was prevented from questioning exactly what a 'time out' entailed when she continued rather loudly.

"I begged that horrid man to take him back, but he wouldn't! It was bad enough when Lily got herself killed and left that nuisance on my doorstep –"

Snape shoved out of his chair, belatedly grabbing his mug to he could stalk over to the sink to dispose of the horrid tea. He took in a deep breath, trying to quell the urge to hex her across the room. As if the wards had sensed his thoughts, his Mark had begun burning with greater intensity. Hissing under his breath, he pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, turned on the faucet, and let the cold water run over it.

"—but it just kept getting harder and harder, and Vernon became angrier, and days became more miserable. It was the boy's fault, I know it! It's only bad when he's here. When he's off at that freak school, things are so much better, so much happier. If only we could keep him away all year, but thanks to that D—ack!"

When she choked suddenly and made a coughing noise, the wizard whirled around to see her rubbing her throat. His lips parted as he considered how likely it was that she had merely choked on her own saliva - it had not been the tea since she had not taken a sip of it since she started blathering on about how awful Potter was. However, it did seem suspiciously like the effect of an oath of silence. Had Dumbledore made her swear not to reveal something?

Distracted by the thought, he barely registered that the woman had stood from her chair until her teacup shattered on the floor.

"You! You're one of THEM?" Petunia screeched, pointing at him as she tripped backwards over her chair in an effort to flee the room. "No! Please! I did what he wanted! You can't kill me! Please! He said –ack!"

Stunned, Severus glanced down to his arm where the Dark Mark was exposed. With a sigh he tugged down his sleeve. "Relax, Petunia. I'm not going to hurt you. Had I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have subjected myself to the torture of your voice for the past half hour."

Tears streamed down her face as she huddled against the stove, rubbing her throat.

"You know what the Mark means, then?" he questioned, crouching down. "How do you know that?"

The quivering woman attempted to answer him, though her lips opened and closed soundlessly like some odd mimicry of a goldfish.

He grumbled under his breath. "I take it Dumbledore swore you to silence?"

Petunia gaped dumbly at his face. Her inability to answer the question was the only confirmation he needed.

"Fuck," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. With another muffled curse, he stood to his full height again. After a moment, he begrudgingly held out his hand.

The woman stared at his hand for a moment before her eyes tightened into a glare. Rejecting his offer of assistance, she clambered to her feet and wiped her face with her apron. It took a few minutes to regain her composure, and then she turned to face him. "I want you out of my house. NOW!"

Severus held her gaze for a moment before nodding his head. "Very well."

"And don't you dare come back here!" she shouted after him as he strode down the hall to the front door. "Don't you DARE!"