Title: A Part of Me 28-31 and Epilogue (Professor!Snape/Student!Snape, NC-17)

[phantomtf]

See Chapter One for warnings.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After nearly a week at the Burrow, he had almost found a comfortable niche. He preferred to keep busy by either helping around the house or reading feverishly. In quiet moments he found himself anxiously worrying about the professor and why he’d received no word on his whereabouts.

One night his comfortable routine was broken. Mr. Weasley, Bill and the twins went off on some sort of mysterious business, and Mrs. Weasley stayed up late, talking in anxious whispers to Ginny and glancing at the door. Severus was quite curious but figured that the goings-on likely did not concern him. Once he saw he was no longer needed, he went up to bed. He had intended to read another chapter but ended up falling asleep in an empty room.

He was startled awake an indeterminable time later by a loud banging. He sat bolt upright in bed and peeked outside the window, but he could see nothing. He tossed on his slippers and crept downstairs just in time to see Harry dash through the door, followed by Hagrid and Bill. “Good gracious, what’s happened?” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, enveloping Harry into a crushing hug.

“Death Eaters!” Bill exclaimed. “They ambushed us while we were trying to fly Harry to Headquarters. The others are still fighting them - they gave us a chance to hide and use a Portkey. The Death Eaters may be staking out possible safe houses, so it’s won’t be safe to move him for the time being.”

“You!” Harry yelled, brandishing his wand and pointing it at the stairs. Severus had been spotted. He stepped into the room casually, as if having a wand pointed at his heart was no big deal.

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by more banging at the door. Furious whispering ensued, and though Snape couldn’t make out exactly what was said, it seemed that the Weasley matriarch was trying to verify the identity of the person on the other side. It was a wise precaution, and he was surprised that the Order had actually thought of it. Gryffindors were long on bravery but sometimes short on common sense. It was all too easy to use a Polyjuiced doppelganger, and they had apparently learned this lesson the hard way, since Draco had told him of the fake professor that had even fooled Dumbledore.

Once Molly was satisfied, she flung open the door and Lupin and Granger rushed inside. “Harry! Thank heavens you’re all right!” Hermione exclaimed, enveloping him in a bear hug. It was almost sickening to see the amount of concern and affection that was being lavished on the boy. Her eyes widened when she spotted the Slytherin skulking by the stairs. “Severus!” she cried.

“Yeah,” Harry grumbled, “I can’t believe he’s here either.”

“Don’t be silly!” she exclaimed. “If he’s here, then he must be in real danger. I heard about Professor Snape’s disappearance. I’m so sorry, Severus.”

Snape’s jaw moved soundlessly for a moment; then he gave a curt nod. It had suddenly struck him that, aside from Dumbledore, nobody else had displayed any genuine concern for the professor’s well-being. They wanted him found, not because he was in danger, but because the Order did not want to face betrayal. Hermione was no one’s fool and would not be concerned for Snape merely because she was a sop. The fact that she really did seem to care had rendered him mute.

Mrs. Weasley bustled around, making sure that everyone was safe. Just as someone would start an in-depth conversation about the unusual events of that night, someone else arrived and they had to start the identity-verification process over again. The last to arrive was Mr. Weasley, carrying George, whose face was covered in blood. Molly cried out in alarm and hastened to her son’s side. Together the two parents carried George to the sofa and tried to stop the bleeding. Hermione was skilled in healing charms, but this wound was particularly difficult to close. No one noticed as Snape slipped upstairs. He returned quickly with a strong healing potion, which he neatly dabbed on the gaping wound. George’s ear had nearly been severed, but the potion began to knit together the damaged tissue. He would have an awful scar, but the organ was still intact.

“Where’s Mad-Eye?” Lupin finally realized.

Arthur looked grim. “He’s dead.” Tonks covered her face and began to cry. Lupin took a step toward her but looked uncertain.

Kingsley nodded. “He fell after you left with Hermione. At least he went the way he would’ve wanted. We didn’t have time to rescue his body, but I transfigured it into a rock so that the Death Eaters could not violate him.”

“I’ll go back with you,” Arthur volunteered. “Mad-Eye deserves a proper burial.” Molly unsuccessfully stifled a frightened gasp.

“No, I’ll go,” Lupin said firmly.

“Don’t think for a second of leaving me behind!” Tonks said angrily, her pink hair suddenly flaming red. Lupin looked rather sour but did not protest further.

The trio exited the house. It was a few moments before the sound of Apparition outside the protective wards could be heard. No doubt they were being very cautious about the possibility of Death Eaters in the area.

“It had to have been Snape!” Ron exclaimed suddenly. “Mad-Eye was right; he sold us out. How else could the Death Eaters have known about the plans to move Harry?”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed scoldingly, shooting Severus a pointed look. Snape sneered at them and stalked angrily up the stairs back to bed. Frankly, he was getting sick of discussing things that he or his older self may or may not have done. “It couldn’t have been Snape. I overheard Moody talking to Shacklebolt. Apparently Professor Snape knew about the plans to relocate Harry to a safe location, but not precisely when it would happen. Dumbledore had planned to wait until just a few days before Harry came of age to move him, but with the professor’s disappearance, he decided to proceed ahead of schedule.”

“Did you see him during the battle? Was he the one who hurt George?” Ron asked rebelliously.

Hermione sighed. “It was hard to see much of anything. The Order purposely picked a dark night. I saw their outlines but not much more. But I seriously doubt that Snape was there. Even with a mask and hood, I’d recognize his voice and his movements anywhere.”

“It wasn’t Snape who hurt me!” George exclaimed. “The guy was much shorter. I’m certain ol’ Snapey knows worse curses and has better aim. Besides, Severus really did me a good turn with healing my ear. Perhaps I’ll give him a toilet seat in gratitude.”

A pall settled over the Burrow in the wake of Mad-Eye’s death. His funeral had to be very small and quiet, because the minister did not want to admit to the true cause of the grizzled Auror’s demise. It was attended mostly by Aurors and Order members with wands at the ready in case Death Eaters chose to crash the party. Harry, Ron and Hermione were rather peeved at being left behind but they understood that it was simply too risky to attend.

In light of George’s injury, Severus had reneged on his previous vow to never assist the Weasleys with their inventions. That, and he was bored stiff and was in a rather creative mood. One day he surprised the twins in their room with a handful of innocuous chocolates. With two sets of eyes raptly focused on him, he popped the sweet into his mouth and chewed rapidly. Within moments, his teeth sprouted into long, sharp, vicious-looking fangs.

“Whoa!” Fred exclaimed.

“Blimey!” George echoed. “Vampire Vittles!”

Severus smiled, making his appearance even more sinister. He heard footsteps on the stairs and jumped out, hissing and bearing his fangs just as Ron arrived on the landing. The Weasley boy shrieked and jumped in the air, his legs nearly giving out under him.

The twins looked at each other.

“Did you see that, Fred?”

“I did, George.”

“Snape just frightened our little brother Ronnie.”

“He did, that.”

“I think I love this guy.”

“Hard to believe it’s the same person as Old Snape. I wonder how the man got a broomstick shoved so far up his arse.”

Sure enough, no good deed goes unpunished. Inspired by Severus’ invention, the twins took to popping out at him from odd corners with silly grins while displaying their latest crazy ideas. Fortunately, Harry was a far more willing victim and served to distract the demonic duo.

Severus decided he couldn’t stand being cooped up one moment longer. He headed out the back door and just kept walking. Just as the house was disappearing from view, he was suddenly immobilized while a loud klaxon brayed. In no time, he was besieged by redheads with angrily brandished wands. Molly, Arthur and Bill lowered theirs when they realized who the intruder was, but the others were not nearly as trusting. “Where do you think you’re going?” Ron snarled.

Severus hissed in angry frustration. “I’ve been stuck inside the house for weeks! My potion stores are dry, I’ve read all my books, the twins are driving me batty, nobody trusts me, and I want a bloody fag!”

Arthur blinked. “Oh no, son. Those things will kill you.”

Severus bit his lip to keep from screaming “I’m already dying!” The only thing worse than his current situation would be their cloying pity. He’d much rather die with dignity. Why oh WHY did he have to waste his precious days here? He felt that time was slipping away.

“Perhaps you need something new to occupy your mind. Would you like to come with me? I’ve got a few fascinating things in the shed that maybe you can help me with.”

Severus shrugged. “Anything is better than just standing here.”

“Sorry,” Mr. Weasley said, freeing him with a flick of his wand.

The crowd dispersed, but not without a few suspicious glares flung his way. Mr. Weasley flung open the door of the garage. There were a few oil stains and tire tracks which indicated that a Muggle car had been stored there at one point. The amount of junk was unbelievable - loose wires, plugs, dead batteries, and other useless refuse was littered about. “Isn’t it fantastic?” Arthur beamed. Severus schooled his features into a blank expression.

The redhead held up a watch. “This is obviously a Muggle timepiece but I’ve never gotten it to work. Pity.” He looked genuinely grieved.

Snape tried hard to not roll his eyes as he held out his hand. He saw the problem immediately. The watch had a small knob to the side - without periodic winding, the watch would grind to a halt. Perhaps the man was more familiar with digital or battery-powered watches. Arthur watched in gaping amazement as he carefully turned the winding mechanism. Mr. Weasley held the ticking watch to his ear with glee. “That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Do you know a lot about Muggle artifacts?”

“A bit,” Severus said cautiously. He was certainly not about to tell anyone of his mixed heritage, although he suspected that this man in particular would be overcome with raptures of delight. He’d never seen a wizard that was so fascinated by Muggles. Frankly, Snape didn’t see the attraction.

“I never thought of asking Professor Snape to look at my collection,” Arthur mused aloud. “He’s not exactly an approachable fellow. But there is no denying his brilliance, or yours, I suppose.”

Severus fingered a plug absently. The mention of the professor caused him to feel helpless and frustrated anew. It had been over a week since the man’s disappearance, and no one seemed to have the slightest clue of his whereabouts or condition. Snape was also one of the very few people who knew of his impending death. He was still very nervous and wanted someone to talk to, but it would never do to mention his condition to a Gryffie. He seized upon the nearest piece of junk and began fiddling with it to distract himself.

The two men stayed in the garage until Molly summoned them for dinner. Severus felt a bit stiff after bending over various artifacts for so long. Mr. Weasley followed the Slytherin into the house with a big grin. “Severus is a miracle worker!” he announced proudly. He held aloft a small toy monkey with cymbals attached to its hands. Arthur had confiscated it during a raid and had succeeded of cleansing it of all dark magic. “I’ve been trying for ages to get this thing to work. Silly me, I had the batteries backward all this time! Just look!” He flipped a switch and the monkey began banging its cymbals to an organ grinder tune. The assembled company gave dirty looks at Snape, who cringed. The thing really was awful. He was starting to regret fixing it (it still had a rather sinister air to it) but Mr. Weasley looked so happy he couldn’t regret it completely.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Severus groaned and threw the covers over his head when Molly hollered for everyone to get up the next morning. He couldn’t wait until the festivities were over. Harry’s birthday and the wedding were both just a few days away, and the Delacour family was expected tomorrow. Mrs. Weasley was taking advantage of the full house to whip everyone into frenzied action.

After a very busy day and deliciously filling dinner, Severus decided to read a book in the garden by wandlight. He ignored Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were gossiping near the shed about something-or-other. He paused for a moment to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night, and the air was scented with honeysuckle. For a moment, he forgot about his cares. He wished he could seize this moment and make it last forever.

Fickle fate, as usual, had chosen to kick him in the teeth. A sudden series of cracks and pops echoed, and before Severus could move, several hooded figures Apparated into the yard. Hermione screamed and tried to draw her wand, but the closest Death Eater grabbed her and pinned her arms to her side. “The wards!” she shrieked. “They must have dismantled the wards!”

“But how?” Ron yelled, battling another Death Eater who was trying to incapacitate him. “The Order and the Ministry Aurors set them up, and they’re the best!”

“Maybe there’s problems at the Ministry!” Harry suggested, stunning one of the masked men. “Anyway, it wasn’t hard for the Death Eaters to guess where I was being kept, once they realized I didn’t make it to headquarters.”

Snape found himself surrounded by several Death Eaters, all of whom had leveled wands at his heart. Dumbledore was right; they were less than receptive toward him. He noticed that Harry, Ron and Hermione had all been subdued. Shouts from within the house indicated that help would arrive at any second, but it would likely be too late. He slipped his hand surreptitiously into his pocket, gripping his wand. “What took you so long?” he asked casually. “I thought you’d never come!”

The Death Eaters looked at each other. “What should we do with this one?”

Another shrugged. “Take him with us. Let the Dark Lord decide his fate.”

Snape moved to dodge around them, but one was too fast for him and grabbed him in a bruising grip. Severus heard an angry cry and realized that Harry had wounded one of the Death Eaters, but he didn’t get to see how the struggle turned out, for the world disappeared as the man holding him pulled him along in side-along Apparition.

They reappeared on the lawn of a massive estate. It was a place he recognized. Malfoy Manor. What in the world were they doing there? Had Lucius busted out of Azkaban to host a Death Eater reunion? Several albino peacocks fled from the commotion.

Loud cracks all around him echoed as the other Death Eaters returned form their tasks. He noticed that Harry, Ron and Hermione had all been captured. Harry had a black eye, Hermione had a large bloody scrape on her leg, and Ron was semiconscious.

“My Lord, we return victorious!” announced the man holding Harry.

“Excellent!” a high-pitched voice exclaimed. A figure stepped from the shadows, and Severus fought to not recoil. The man was very different from the pictures of Lord Voldemort that he had seen. This *thing* was barely human, with pallid skin, a bald head, and slits for a nose. His fingers were long and spiderlike. At his feet lay a massive snake. “Welcome, Harry! You’re just in time.”

Harry’s face twisted into a grimace of defiance. “Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to miss your defeat.”

“Impudence!” Voldemort shrieked. His sudden rage subsided. “Never mind. Soon you will be nothing but a touching memory in the hearts of those that loved you. Now that you have left your childhood home, your mother’s love can no longer protect you. *You* *are* *mine*.”

“Leave him alone!” Ron screamed, and the Death Eaters laughed.

A low gurgling sound caught their attention. “Ah, Severus, we have guests. It was kind of them to drop by for a visit, was it not?” For a moment the young man thought that Voldemort was talking to him. All heads swiveled to look in the direction that the Dark Lord was gazing. A quick flick of his hand illuminated some magical torches around the yard. Flickering firelight played across a crouched nude figure. The man’s back was striped with crusted blood and oozing pus. One leg was clearly broken. Hands and feet were secured with painfully tight manacles. He seemed semiconscious, but at Voldemort’s mocking words, he stirred and his head lifted.

Severus felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed hard. Professor Snape had been beaten and abused to within an inch of his life. Judging from the number of festering wounds, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man had blood poisoning at this point. Hermione screamed, while Ron gagged. His kidnapper looked disgusted and pointed the boy’s head away from him. Voldemort spoke the Cruciatus curse and pointed his wand at the prone figure, which became rigid, and then began to shake violently but soundlessly. A few Death Eaters jeered, looking ecstatic at the downfall of the Dark Lord’s former favorite. Some seemed disappointed that the tortured man wasn’t vocalizing his agony.

Young Snape was nonetheless surprised to note that a few gatherers seemed less than pleased about the torture. Draco was staring at the professor with horror in his eyes. Lucius stood behind him, hands gripping his son’s shoulders, his mouth set in a firm line. Severus would not be very surprised to know that there was a mass breakout from Azkaban, liberating those loyal to the Death Eaters. Several of Severus’ fellow classmates were gathered with their fathers - Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle in particular - and all were staring determinedly at the ground. He wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for the naked and battered man, or out of simple revulsion, but all looked too horrified for words.

“My Lord, what should we do with this one?” asked the large blond Death Eater holding him.

The eerily pale face snarled. “Is that the Snape boy? What is he doing here?!”

The youth looked beyond the dark wizard to his older self. Their eyes met, and Severus could feel the professor practically draw him into his mind. The boy initiated Legilimency, and images flickered in his head, almost too fast to catch, of young Severus bowing to Voldemort and denouncing Professor Snape. Severus withdrew with an almost imperceptible nod. He knew what he must do. “My Lord!” he exclaimed, trying to fall to his knees. He glared angrily at his captor. “Have you no regard for the Great One? How dare you keep me from showing him the respect that he deserves; nay, demands?!” The blond blinked stupidly. He had no idea how to react to such a statement.

“Hmmmm,” the dark wizard mused, his snakelike features crinkling in an expression of curiosity. “You seem quite eager to pay homage to me. But that garbage over there,” he gestured to the slightly twitching body, “also wore the face of a loyal follower. Forgive me if I am slightly skeptical.”

At his master’s gesture, the Death Eater released Severus, who bowed low. “I praise your wisdom, My Lord, and am elated to be in your presence at last.” He threw a filthy look toward the heap of a man in the shadows. “My older self is an absolute fool. He has let Dumbledork warp his mind with his overblown notions of Muggle-love and equality.” A wave of hilarity broke out at the insult. Voldemort seemed particularly amused. “I confess that I was saving the news of his treachery until our meeting. I had hoped that it would give me leverage in your ranks. But I should have realized that our Lord knows all.”

The gathered crowed looked from one Snape to another in disbelief. Had the boy really been prepared to sell out his older self?

“So you say,” the Dark Lord said carelessly, “but fine words are worth less than the air that breathes them.” He lunged forward and seized the boy’s chin with his hand, peering deep into his eyes. Severus was ready for him, locking the innermost part of his mind tight while the images of his choosing surged through the forefront. Every bitter and angry thought churned through his mind: humiliation as he was hung upside down near the lake, his robes falling around his head and exposing his underwear - his face frozen in a mask of terror as a werewolf, saliva dripping from its sharp fangs, lunged toward him - his body trembling with barely-restrained fury as Dumbledore calmly awarded points to James for the rescue and in the same breath forbade Severus to reveal Lupin’s secrets - himself reading under the sheets by wandlight, devouring books on the Dark Arts with a burning desire to know all its secrets - his cursed Muggle father whipping him with a metal belt buckle as his mother wept and he ground his teeth, wishing he was of age with his own wand so he could hex the man’s face clear off - overlying everything was an intense emotion of HATE HATE HATE and the fierce yearning for revenge against all who had wronged him.

Voldemort drew back and laughed. “Now *that* is the Severus Snape that I used to know, with fire in his belly and hate in his heart! Very well; there is still a place in the Death Eaters for you. But you must perform one more task to prove your loyalty. Kill that filth over there.” He jerked his head toward Snape’s battered body.

The Potions master stared at him, his black eyes like tunnels. Severus stared back. The man was willing him to do it, to just forget what he said earlier about dying instead of joining the Death Eaters, to do anything necessary to survive this night alive; Snape was as good as dead anyway, and at this point dying would be a relief. He would be glad to die if it kept the boy safe. Severus slowly raised his wand. He couldn’t do it… there was no *way* he could do it… but he couldn’t let the Dark Lord know that, and all he had to do was wait another few minutes but he didn’t *have* another few minutes, and dammitall what was *taking* them so long?!

He breathed a silent sigh of relief as an explosion of cracks and pops sounded all around them. The cavalry had arrived. About bloody time.

Harry was immediately surrounded by Order members, who roughly pulled him away from his captors. The Death Eaters who held Ron and Hermione immediately found themselves at the business end of Order wands, and they dropped their prisoners to draw their own weapons. The grounds were suddenly ablaze with multicolored jets of light as the combatants began to do battle.

“Nooooo!” Voldemort screamed as curses whizzed over his head. “I will not be denied victory! Who lead them here? WHO?!”

“I don’t know, my Lord!” Blondie stammered. “They couldn’t have traced our Apparition; such a thing is simply not possible!”

“The Trace!” Bellatrix yelled. Good god, her looks had gone to rot. “Potty is not of age; he still has the Trace about him!”

“Fool!” Voldemort yelled, and his most faithful follower cringed. “Potter did not do magic! He was not the one to Apparate; the Trace would not have given him away! Besides, I *own* the Ministry and the trackers! No one so much as sneezes without my express permission!”

The enraged wizard narrowed his red eyes. “You!” he roared, seizing Severus by the arm. “You must have lead them here!” He cast his wand quickly over the boy’s body and cursed at his findings. “It was you! You have a tracking charm!”

Severus could not stop a flicker of fear from crossing his face. “A thousand apologies, my Lord!” he gasped. “They never trusted me; my every move was watched! I tried to come to you one day, but they trapped me! Some of them are trusting fools, but others are not nearly as softhearted. They must have guessed my plans!”

Voldemort sneered. “Again with your pretty words. You have the gift of gab, Snape. Your sharp tongue and mind have kept you and the professor out of trouble for many years. But this time your luck has run out. Priori Incantatem!” The air around Snape’s wand shimmered, revealing that the tracking charm had been cast with his own wand.

“So,” the Dark Lord hissed, pointing his wand at the boy’s chest, “you have followed in the steps of Snape after all. Both of you are two-faced vipers. What have you to say for yourself now?”

Severus’ expression became eerily calm. “Congratulations. It’s only taken you about twenty years to realize. Either you are really slow on the uptake, or we are just that good.”

The elder Snape stifled a groan of despair. His eyes pleaded with the boy to flee, to Apparate while he had a chance. But with Voldemort’s wand leveled at him, Severus would be dead before he could so much as twitch. Damn the Order! They were spending so much time fighting Death Eaters and protecting the other children that they didn’t spare the Slytherin so much as a glance. They probably assumed that the boy was one of them. Stupid! Didn’t they *realize* who had lead them there in the first place? Why didn’t they *listen* to what was going on around them? If only he wasn’t so weak!

“Silence!” Voldemort roared as his face contorted in rage. “I will not tolerate insolence! Either you are with us or against us. Choose!”

The boy laughed bitterly. “Please! As if you’d ever trust me now. You’ll execute me no matter what my choice is. The professor is right; it’s better to be dead than to serve you. You’ve disgraced the name of Slytherin and thrown shame upon our entire House. You can kill me if you like, but you’ll never change how I feel.”

“That can be arranged!” he screamed. “Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green light flew from the tip of Voldemort’s wand and struck Severus full in the chest. His body fell backward gracefully, seemingly in slow motion, until he hit the ground with a soft thud. His fathomless eyes stared vacantly at the sky.

Sudden silence reigned. The absence of curses and hexes was deafening. The Order and Death Eaters alike ceased their combat as they all stared dumbly at the lifeless body. Both sides seemed absolutely gobsmacked at the murder of a boy who had seemed destined to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. Snape’s Slytherin dorm mates looked absolutely sickened. The elder Snape could scarcely breathe for shock and grief. Hermione screamed and burst into tears. Ron’s jaw worked but no sound came out. Harry let out a yell that seemed to echo from the bottom of his soul and lunged into the fray, attacking the nearest Death Eater.

“You killed him!” Draco exclaimed. Lucius turned deathly pale and clutched his son’s shoulder convulsively, but apparently the murder had perversely brought calm to the dark wizard. Rather than chastise Draco, Voldemort looked pleased.

“So I did!” he agreed almost cheerfully, fending off a few hexes that flew his way. “No big loss. He was a filthy half-blood anyway.”

“So what does that make you?” Harry cried, drawing attention to the argument. “Your father was a Muggle! If Muggle blood is dirty, then you’re as contaminated as anyone else!”

“Lies!” Bellatrix shrieked and lunged toward the Gryffindor.

“NO, Bella! He’s MINE!” Voldemort roared, bringing his wand down in a slicing arc. A burst of red light threw her to the ground, where she lay immobile.

“Thanks!” Harry jeered. “You’re doing our job for us. Why don’t you hex a few more followers while you’re at it?!”

“Stupid boy!” the wounded professor hissed from the shadows. Severus had gotten himself killed for his cheek, and now Potter would be next. He glared at his shackles, which had chafed his wrists and ankles raw. He had never felt so useless in his life!

Just then the air shimmered before his eyes, and two small items appeared. He blinked a few times in disbelief. Surely he was hallucinating. He reached out with one manacled hand and touched the objects. No one would have thought twice about them, but to him they meant survival. The first item was his wand; its importance was obvious. The second item - a black button ripped from his throat-to-ankle concealing robes - seemed worthless. But obviously someone had learned its secret and given it to him as a means of deliverance. His eyes darted around the warring crowd, but no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. His savior’s identity remained a mystery.

“Potter!” he wheezed, cursing the weakness of his voice. Even if he had been in full form, it would be difficult to make even his imposing voice carry over the sounds of battle. He had to get Potter’s attention, had to get him to safety. “Accio Potter!” he muttered, and to the boy’s astonishment, he felt himself abruptly jerked backward to land awkwardly by the professor’s side.

“Professor Snape!” the brat exclaimed as he got a close look at the wreck of the proud man’s body. “Oh my god, you’re-”

“Silence!” he snarled with as much vehemence as he could muster, wincing at the sharp twinge from broken ribs. From his shortness of breath, he feared that one was pressing on his lungs. “Here, this is a Portkey.” He held the button aloft. “It will take us to safety!”

“No!” the boy exclaimed with his usual impudence. “I won’t leave Ron and Hermione! They’re only here because of me!”

“Do not argue! The Order will see them to safety. But if you fall, the sacrifice of all who have died will be for nothing!” The latest death hung like a heavy weight on them both. He wanted to say more, but his breath was taken by a painful coughing fit. A froth of blood formed around his mouth.

“Professor!” Harry exclaimed anxiously. “You’re hurt! We’ve got to get you to Saint Mungo’s!”

“The Portkey!” Snape insisted. “It is the only safety we can be sure of.”

Harry glanced toward the body of the young Slytherin, who stared sightlessly at the sky, seemingly in defiance of the combatants around him. “I hate to leave him,” he whispered.

“He’s gone,” Snape said harshly, but the words seemed to hurt him nonetheless. “There’s nothing more we can do for him.” He held out his hand, the button cradled in his palm. Harry folded his hand over it. With a rough tap of the professor’s wand, the Portkey was activated, and with a sharp tug behind their navels, they were whisked away.

Several combatants witnessed their departure and were thrown into a frenzy. Voldemort was enraged at loss of his captive and his mortal enemy, who had been abruptly snatched from his grasp in one fell swoop. Several Order members were on the verge of panic, not knowing for sure what had happened to their Chosen One. Their fears were quelled when a shimmering phoenix patronus appeared in their midst. Harry and Snape had arrived safe and sound in the Headmaster’s office, it announced in Dumbledore’s voice, then faded away as abruptly as it had appeared. Harry had been whisked away to Grimmauld Place, while Snape had been rushed to St. Mungo’s. The Portkey had considerably worsened the man’s internal injuries, and the mediwizards feared that he would not last the night.

“Harry is safe!” Lupin exclaimed, grabbing Ron by the arm. “I’ll get his friends to safety.”

“Don’t worry about me, Professor!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can Apparate myself.” Once the young adults were safely away, the Order unleashed another wave of attack with intense ferocity. They fought just long enough to force the Death Eaters back, and then they left to tend to their wounded. Kingsley and Lupin, who had returned to the battle, bundled up the deceased Slytherin with gentle hands and spirited away his body for an honorable burial. Dumbledore feared for the safety of the surviving Snape, who was clinging to life by a thread at the wizard hospital. Recalling all too well what had happened to Bode and the Devil’s Snare, several Order members volunteered to keep a rotating watch over the fallen professor.

Chapter Thirty

The next few days passed in a haze. There were happy occasions - Harry’s coming-of-age and the marriage of Bill and Fleur, but they were snatched moments during a time of fear and sorrow. Even those who had not liked the young Slytherin seemed stunned by his pointless death. There was considerable guilt over the elder Snape’s precarious condition as well - many had been ready to write him off as a traitor, while the professor had protected the Order’s secrets while enduring continued torture to the brink of death.

The organizers of the funeral for young Severus had wanted to delay the ceremony until Professor Snape was well enough to attend, but they decided that they could not afford to wait. It was unclear if the professor would survive his wounds, and they could not postpone the funeral indefinitely. They only hoped that they would not end up burying both Snapes.

The day of the funeral dawned warm but cloudy, as if in deference to the somber occasion. The crowd of mourners was small but seemed genuinely grieved by the boy’s passing. Harry spotted Parkinson and Bulstrode huddled together, weeping miserably. He had made a point of attending with his friends, despite the danger of exposing himself. He was not worried, for many Order members were in attendance, and Snape’s funeral seemed a less likely target than Mad-Eye’s funeral had been. He suspected that the number of attendees would have been higher; only some of them feared retribution for their attendance, either from the Order or from Voldemort.

Hermione sobbed as the coffin was levitated into its resting place. Ron looked pale and could only pat her shoulder awkwardly. Harry felt his heart sink as he turned away, seeking a small pocket of isolation in the milling crowd. How many more funerals would be held until the Dark Lord was stopped for good?

A hooded figure approached him. Harry instinctively reached for his wand, but the person pushed the hood back just enough to briefly show his face. “Nott!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Shh!” the Slytherin hissed. “I don’t want anyone else to know I’m here. Draco desperately wanted to come but he didn’t dare. The Dark Lord is angry enough at his family as it is. Please, we’re desperate to know. How is Professor Snape doing?”

Harry looked grave. “Not well enough. He’s out of immediate danger, but he could still very well die from his injuries. I didn’t understand the medical jargon, but I do know he’s got an irregular heartbeat from continued applications of the Cruciatus, plus he’s got some kind of blood poisoning or infection, a number of broken bones and possibly some lacerated internal organs. Hermione could probably explain it a lot better.”

“That’s all right,” Nott said hastily, “the less people that know of my presence, the better. I just wanted to let you know that the sacrifices of both Snapes won’t be in vain. After seeing what happened to them, none of his students want to join the Dark Lord. Poor Draco’s pretty much trapped, but my father and I are leaving the country as soon as I’m done talking to you; and if Crabbe and Goyle possess a single ounce of sense, their families will do the same thing.”

“Good luck,” Harry said solemnly, holding out his hand. Theo Nott clasped it firmly.

“Thanks. I’m sure we’ll need it. And if the Professor recovers, please send him our regards.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Shacklebolt looked up from his newspaper as Dumbledore entered the hospital room in St. Mungo’s. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he noticed that the Headmaster was accompanied by a thin woman with dark hair, thick eyebrows and a scowling countenance. “Come, Kingsley,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Let us see if the tea in the cafeteria is still as abominable as I recall.” The Order members had taken turns watching over Snape - St. Mungo’s had proven to be less than secure on several occasions and they did not want the recently-outed spy to come to harm. Snape had been taken off of the critical list. The man had regained consciousness but now slept most of the time and barely seemed able to growl at his babysitters. It was quite worrying.

The Auror looked at the dozing figure on the bed, then carefully eyed the woman. They had been ordered to not leave Snape’s side for *any* reason - even if the man was to be stripped and given a sponge bath. That had certainly made for some awkward moments! But if Dumbledore thought this woman could be trusted, then Kingsley had no doubts. They filed out of the room, leaving the woman alone with the wounded man.

Once the door had closed, the woman gently lifted Snape’s head and placed it on her bosom. She stroked his hair, smoothing it behind her ears. His lashes fluttered as his eyes struggled to open. He gazed at her blearily, and she offered a tremulous smile in return. “Mum?” he whispered hoarsely, sounding incredulous. She squeezed his hand as he trembled in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry. Please forgive me.” There was a lot more to be said, but it would keep. For now it was enough just to be together.

Epilogue

Arthur heaved a sigh of relief as he headed into a thick wooded area. The extra Ministry raids to confiscate enchanted or cursed objects had given him a lot of overtime lately, but he’d take time with his family any day. He was the last one to leave the latest house, verifying that its contents had been properly catalogued and taken away to the Ministry for safekeeping.

Although the house was owned by a wizard, he was in a Muggle neighborhood and wanted to make sure that he was quite alone before Apparating home. It was pitch-black and only the tip of his wand lit the way.

“Weasley!” a voice called. “Weasley, I must speak to you!”

Arthur whirled, just as the moon broke from its cloud cover. The light glimmered off of a cascade of white-blond hair. “Malfoy!” the redhead snarled, lunging to point his wand at the other wizard’s throat. To his surprise, instead of fighting back, Malfoy dropped his walking stick. Arthur knew very well that Malfoy’s wand was concealed within.

“Calm down, Weasley! I did not come to fight. I am alone and disarmed. You must listen; I have something important to give you.”

Arthur studied the other man critically. Lucius Malfoy still dressed and spoke like an aristocrat, but he was thin and haggard-looking from his stint in Azkaban. But the most striking change was in his demeanor. Arthur was more than familiar with Malfoy’s snobbish and superior airs, but there was no hint of his arrogance or taunting tonight. Frankly, the man looked terrified. Not of Arthur, surely. But of what? Or whom?

Malfoy’s grey eyes were wide, and his breath came in short pants. He swallowed hard. “In my pocket… I have something of value to the Order. Take it!”

“I warn you, Malfoy, if this is a trick….”

“No tricks!” The man was nearly frantic. “I swear it on my family name! Take it quickly, before they realize I am gone!”

“Accio!” A small object rose out of Malfoy’s pocket. Arthur directed it to the ground and then removed the miniaturizing spell. It was a small golden cup with two handles. The most noticeable feature was the engraved image of a badger. “So what’s this then? Will it burn my hand off if I touch it?”

“No, it is safe to touch. I have held it myself. Although there is something about it that gives me the creeps, so I would not advise handling it longer than necessary.”

Weasley eyed him suspiciously. “You are a slippery one, Malfoy. Very sneaky of you, trying to get me to let you touch the object. It’s probably a weapon that you’d use against me.”

“See reason, Weasley!” Lucius snarled. “If it was a weapon, I would have used it on you before you knew what hit you. To be honest, I don’t know exactly what it does, beyond the obvious. But it’s important.”

“No matter. I will summon someone with a vast knowledge of Dark objects. He will be most interested in examining this artifact and speaking with a renowned Death Eater.” Ever cautious, Arthur cast a binding spell on Lucius before removing his wand from the man’s throat. A silver weasel burst from the wand’s end, running through the woods until it abruptly disappeared from view. Malfoy concentrated on not fidgeting. A scant few minutes later, the loud *crack* of Apparition heralded the appearance of Albus Dumbledore.

“So, Lucius,” Albus said casually, as if they were all good friends gathered in a comfortable parlour, “Arthur tells me that you have something to give the Order.”

“Yes, yes!” Lucius nodded vigorously. Under other circumstances it would have been funny. “Thank the heavens you’re here. Perhaps you’ll see reason. The item is right over there.”

“Be careful, Albus!” Arthur warned. “You never know what sort of hexes he might have cast.”

Dumbledore walked around the object cautiously, waving his wand above it. “There is no need to fear, Arthur. The cup is indeed dangerous, but not from anything that Lucius has done.” He confidently grasped the cup by one of its handles, ignoring Weasley’s gasp. “Amazing,” the elderly wizard murmured, studying the cup’s fine lines in the moonlight.

“You know what it is, don’t you?” Malfoy asked. “Is it something that will help the Order?”

“You brought it to us without knowing what it is? Quite curious.” Albus gazed at the Death Eater over his half-moon spectacles.

“I don’t know what it is, but I do know that the Dark Lo…You-Know-Who values it greatly. He asked Bella to hide it away in her Gringotts vault for safe-keeping. I’ve modified her memory so she thinks that the cup is safely put away. If he discovers what I’ve done, I will suffer a fate worse than death.”

Dumbledore looked solemn. “This cup is indeed highly valued by Voldemort.” Both Weasley and Malfoy winced at the name. “He would not hesitate to sacrifice the lives of his followers if it would keep this object safe.” With a quick flick of his wand, the restraining bonds disappeared. Malfoy rubbed his arms, trying to ease the discomfort. “Tell me, Lucius. Why have you taken such a great risk to bring it into our possession?”

The Malfoy patriarch looked even more nervous, his eyes darting around the forest, as if expecting his fellow Death Eaters to jump out at any second. “For much of my life, I have served the Dark Lord and was proud to do so. However, things have not been going so well for my family as of late. Our Lord is very displeased with me due to the loss of the Prophesy and my capture at the Ministry. Severus’ treachery has only served to further inflame him. Since I was the one to recruit him to our cause, he blames his defection on me as well. He has taken over my house and addresses me with nothing but contempt. Worse of all,” he shuddered, “I overheard the Dark Lord speaking with Wormtail. He is planning some impossibly difficult task for Draco. He is setting Draco up to fail simply to have an excuse to punish him, and through him me. Narcissa is sick with worry. The Malfoy name is as old as Wizardkind.” Arthur doubted this, but he would let the man have his pride. “I joined the Dark Lord to fight what I saw as subjugation against wizards, but now he is the one oppressing my kin. It is not to be borne.”

Dumbledore stared at him, and Lucius suddenly felt naked. He recognized the whisper of Legilimency in his mind, but it was quite different from the way that the Dark Lord wielded it. He had never bothered to learn Occlumency, feeling that he had nothing to hide, but it was always disconcerting to have someone rifling through his thoughts.

“You helped Severus escape.”

“Yes.” Malfoy’s throat was dry, and the word came out as a rasp.

“Why?”

Lucius shook his head. “For the reasons I’ve already named, I suppose. Our Lord’s return has been much less glorious than I had hoped. Plus Severus is important to me. We have been close for quite some time - although perhaps not quite as close as I thought if he was able to keep his true allegiance a secret. I did suspect that something was wrong, since occasionally he’d get a tortured look on his face, or seem to want to tell me something. Something in me just couldn’t leave him to suffer at the Dark Lord’s hands. And then there was the boy. He should never have killed the boy. That, I suppose, is what truly opened my eyes.”

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. “And if you had known about Severus’ treachery ahead of time? What would you have done then?”

Lucius sighed. “I don’t know. If it had been anyone else, I would not have hesitated to turn them in. But Severus has always been different. I’m sure you recall how I looked out for him when I was a prefect, so I’ve come to feel very protective toward him. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” His brow creased. “Is he all right?”

“Severus is recovering. I’m certain he will be most interested in tonight’s events. But the night is not yet over, and there may still be more surprises in store. You say you are dissatisfied with Voldemort’s treatment of your family. You have brought me an invaluable object to use against him. It would seem that your feelings toward the Death Eaters have changed. But have you thought beyond tonight? What will you do next, Lucius? Will you go back to Voldemort, cursing his treatment but observing passively? Or will you take action to save those that you love? What will you do to protect them?”

The grey eyes widened with realization. Albus and Arthur both watched in silence. They could practically see the thoughts whirling in Malfoy’s head. Then he straightened up, standing at attention, his chin lifted defiantly. “Anything. You need a spy, now that Severus has been compromised. I will take his place. Let me take the Unbreakable Vow, and I will do everything in my power to bring the Dark Lord down.”

Arthur served as witness as the Vow was made. That night, the Order welcomed its newest member.