What Else Is There?

_______



You\'re uninvited,

An unfortunate slight.

_______





“I believe she needs you more than you may surmise. You know, Sirius won’t be able to check on her for the entire month of February. Remus is settling things in New Zealand until late spring… In fact I don’t think she’s had any visitors for two weeks now. She all alone in that house… only seventeen… just lost her parents. She needs someone.”



Dumbledore was making a lot of sense… Unfortunately.



Severus had come to the Headmaster to try and convince him that the girl no longer required him to check up on her. Though he had been coming to Godric’s Hallow every few weeks through the winter, he had remained unseen. Since their encounter at the graveyard, he had decided to dodge any direct contact with her.



But this time… this time Dumbledore had given him a direct request which would make it impossible to keep his presence unknown. The first Sunday of February was to be the night, and as Severus Snape traveled some distance into the town of Hogsmeade, a plain black leather bag hung over his shoulder, he did his best to begin preparing to keep his emotions contained within himself before pulling out his wand to travel again into the cold and quiet streets of Godric’s Hollow.



He had kept these emotions well handled for almost two decades.



Why now? Why this?



If there was one thing he hated, it was facing anything real… Facing his past. He had done such an immaculate job of his life; he had skillfully spun a web of deceit that was now all that he knew, keeping him carefully concealed, yet constricted within the tangled silk strings of his prison. And now he was forced to look right into the eyes of all that he had done, and all that could have been.



_______











Finally, she was beginning to feel at home.



Sirius had transported her computer, her stereo and all of her CDs and DVDs from her old house on the island, and brought them to her, along with most of her clothes. She had turned her old nursery into a kind of entertainment room where she spent most of her time watching movies or listening to music. Bridget would have felt lazy, but there wasn’t much else she could do.



It had been months since she had finished digging through the attic for keepsakes, and now had a corner in the living room dedicated to a scrapbook project. Boxes of pictures, letters and empty books ready to be filled with memories were stacked haphazardly, waiting to be sorted through.



Her mother’s wand had felt strangely comfortable in her hand, sometimes shooting lavender and silver sparks into the air. Remus had explained that her mother’s sparks were usually green and gold, which meant the wand had probably recognized Bridget, as it’s new master. Yet she couldn’t seem to manage much more magic than a simple ‘lumos’ or ‘accio’ and more recently ‘orchideous’, which was just for fun. She found herself ‘accio’-ing just about anything she needed at all times, and had perfected the, what was classified as ‘charm’ soon enough.



There was no washer or dryer in the house, leaving her to only guess that her mother must have used magic for such things. She had been using the spare bathtub for laundry, using some of the muggle money Sirius had brought her down at the local drug store to get soap and softener. The fireplace was constantly burning with clothes hanging in front of it on a string, drying in the heat.



She had even gone through all her parent’s clothing, moving her father’s into a spare closet and wearing her mother’s from time to time. In fact her favorite thing wear had now become one of Lily’s old dresses. It was a remarkably comfortable dark maroon silk lounge dress with accents of purple that zipped up from the back and showed a modest amount of cleavage. It also seemed to have a permanent perfume that never faded with washing or wear.



It was a Sunday evening and Bridget had only just taken a shower at five, starting her day late as usual. Lily’s dress had just finished drying in front of the fire, and she removed her towel, slipping the dress over her body, breathing in the jasmine as it slid into place. Out of habit, she put on some eyeliner and settled on her computer, pulling a thick textbook entitled ‘Magic: In theory and practice’. It didn’t have too many spells in it. It was full of tips and ideas about what magic itself was and how it was to be used.



She had a word document with notes she wouldn’t want to forget, but it only took a few minutes before the boredom set in and she was flipping through her music collection for something she hadn’t already listened to twenty times since she moved in.



Just as she pressed play, a knock came to the front door, and she jumped up excitedly. Maybe it was Sirius to help her with her miserable flying skills. It had seemed sort of mean to have gotten her a broom for Christmas and not help her learn to ride it, but she knew he had been busy.



Skipping down the stairs she called out “Just a minute!” And struggled into some underwear and a bra, pulling down the clothes still drying in the living room and shoving them into the coat closet. She ran her hands through her moist hair, trying to look somewhat decent, knowing she must have resembled a wet puppy with a makeup job that wasn’t up to par.



Opening the door, she peeked outside to see one of the last people she had expected to visit her.



“Good evening, Miss Evans.” Snape made a small bow of his head, peering inside. “I hope it isn’t a bad time. I have been asked to deliver some things to you.”



Bridget straightened up and opened the door a little wider, frigid air rushing into the living room. His ominous appearance on her doorstep was unnerving. “No, not at all.” She managed a smile and closed it when he entered, his cloak billowing behind him. “I’ll get some drinks. Would you like some rum?”



He hesitated, placing a large bag down on the couch, turning to face her with a reproachful look. “I hardly think it appropriate for a girl your age to be drinking.”



“Well… it’s a weekend and… my mum let me drink a little on the weekends. Must have been the Irish in her.” She tittered a little at this but he didn’t seem amused. “Besides,” she interjected, “I was offering you a drink, not myself.” Shrugging, she looked down at her feet in the usual feigned shameful way that she did when she wanted someone not to be mad at her anymore.



“Very well. I will take a very light drink. Thank you.” He had added the last part quickly looking flustered as if her behavior was something he wasn’t used to and confused him greatly.



“Cool. Take a seat. You want coke or pepsi?”



“I have no idea what either of those are, Miss Evans. Whichever you deem appropriate will be fine.”



She quietly moved into the kitchen and realized that the music from upstairs was traveling down at an audible volume. Wondering if Snape had even ever heard muggle music before, she mixed their drinks with pepsi in two tall plain glasses and brought them back out to the living room to see a variety of strange objects and a pile of thick textbooks laid out on the coffee table.



“Here ya go.” She grinned, approaching him from behind.



He turned on his heel and jerked back to find her so close to him. “Oh. Thank you, Miss Evans.”



“You’re welcome… Mister Snape. Is that what I should call you? I just realized I’ve never actually addressed you by name and I don’t-“



“You may call me Professor if you wish.” He cut her ranting off. “Though you don’t attend Hogwarts I shall be tutoring you in the ways of magic on occasion from here on out and-… What is that noise, is something wrong?” His eyes had trailed to the stairs, up where the music was coming from. A song had started that had a long intro that was very electronic and strange in nature, a woman’s voice hanging over it, sounding almost like she was crying.



“Oh… no that’s just my stereo. Should I turn it off?” She started walking towards the stairs but he motioned for her to stop.



“It’s quite alright.”



“So what are those?” She had suddenly fixed upon a case of vials of swirling silver liquid, all labeled in tiny cursive that lay on the table. Drawing near them, she gazed down curiously at them.



“Those would be gathered memories of professors that have offered them for such cases as these.” He moved next to her and reached into the bag, pulling out a stone basin with odd markings carved into the sides. “This is a pensieve. You can empty these vials into it and simply place your head inside. You’ll be carried into the memory of various classroom sessions as if you had been there yourself. You can learn by observation, but unfortunately you’ll not be able to bring any parchment with you to take notes. Headmaster Dumbledore and I have been trying to perfect this method for some time, but it will have to do. I hope you have a good memory.” He glanced down at her momentarily.



“I like to think so.” She nodded, reaching down to pick up one of the vials, squinting at the cramped cursive scribbled on top. It read ‘Transfiguration, Class 1’









“There are two weeks worth of classes in this entire bag. We will replace them on the first and third Sundays of every month where I will also pick up your homework, which will be minimal. Just enough to where we can evaluate your progress.” He pulled out a stack of blank parchment, quills and ink, and motioned to the stack of textbooks. “This all follows along with the basic first year curriculum at Hogwarts. We can move faster if you should wish to do more than what is asked of you. Supplies for potions will be delivered by next week, so you may skip that class for now, or simply take notes.”



She placed the memory back into its case and reached across to pick up the first book on the pile, which read ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’.



“Obviously, you won’t be doing very much in the area of Herbology, not having access to the plants necessary, but it will still be useful to be able to recognize certain dangerous or helpful species.”



Bridget took a large gulp from her glass and went to place the book back on the pile, giving Snape a little nudge with her shoulder, beaming up at him. “This was really kind of you to bring all this. I’m so excited! It’s so strange to think I could have been learning all this stuff all along.” He had turned slowly to smirk down at her, bewildered at her friendliness. “I can’t help but wonder what life might be like if things had been different. You know?”



“Yes… I understand the feeling well.” He took another drink and she realized that his glass was already nearly empty and he seemed to have a glazed look in his eyes as if he were beginning to get a bit tipsy. As though in response, he spoke. “I do believe I specifically asked for a light drink, Miss Evans.” He gazed down his rather large nose into his glass as if to assess whether he should keep drinking.



“Oh I’m sorry.” She bit down on her lip and shrugged. “I guess I thought that was a little.”



Something strange was building up inside her and she found it hard not to look at him. A funny sensation was tingling in her insides and this man seemed less frightening and more mysteriously enchanting than before. It came to her then as they stood in silence that this feeling had been building up since the night in the graveyard. What was this foreign desire to be held by him coming from?



“You know I can’t understand why your mother let you drink and smoke. You’re so young. I apologize if that is too personal a comment.” He frowned and adjusted his cuffs, his drink still in hand.



“No, don’t be.” She turned, laughing a little bit to show he hadn’t made her uncomfortable, glad he had brought up something to talk about as she was blushing a little at the thoughts racing in her mind. What he would think of her if he knew what was she was feeling?



“You know it’s funny, because when I asked Sirius about my mum, he almost described someone I didn’t recognize at all.” Bridget was beginning to get a little tipsy herself. She had made the drinks too strong. “Mum raised me in a very hands-off sort of way. She was pretty sad most of the time, not really leaving her room all that much. I think she must have missed her old life. Didn’t even make me go to school when I asked if I could stay home. I would say I became a rebel, but there wasn’t much to rebel against.”



Snape put down his empty glass at this, his face full of a sadness that seemed to come from nowhere. With a silent gasp, Bridget realized a tear was sliding down his pale cheek, glittering in the firelight. “I should leave, now.”



“Oh my, I’m so sorry.” She put her glass down too and ran to him as he headed for the door, putting a hand on his shoulder upon which he span around to escape her touch.



“No. It is I who am sorry. I’ll be leaving.”









“Stop, please. Did I say something wrong?” The alcohol was rushing through her and she thought she might cry too. “I don’t want to be alone here and, I just… I want you to stay, please.” With a sudden burst of desperation, she found herself flinging into his arms, her face buried in his shoulder, crying out in a way she knew she would regret later. “I’m just so scared!” She barely managed to blurt out, sounding muffled as her tears started to soak his clothing.



“Miss Evans…” His voice shook, and she felt his arms tightening slightly around her. “You don’t need to feel afraid. I won’t leave you alone if that is what you fear.”



“I got your robes all soggy.” She laughed through her dissipating tears, taking a deeply wet sniff as she attempted to wipe a bit of snot off his shoulder, choking a little bit as if she might start crying again. He drew her hand away and shook his head.



“Don’t worry about that.” He pulled his head back slightly to look down at her more clearly, pulling a lock of hair out of her face with trembling hands. “You look so much like your mother, you know.”



“All but my hair, yeah.” Bridget grinned somewhat nervously. His voice had taken on a darker tone – almost fearful in nature and he wasn’t taking his hand away. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest and she couldn’t help but think she had gotten herself into more than she was prepared for. But there was something so comforting about the embrace. “You two were friends back in school?”



He didn’t answer, only continued looking down into her. Finding it hard to breathe, Bridget looked back, trying desperately to read his face. From far away, he had always seemed so cold and stern looking, as if getting near him would have been like trying to befriend a very poisonous spider with a wig. Now she saw something in his face that held her there, waiting, watching his dark eyes for some kind of sign.



Who kissed who first was hard to decipher, but it didn’t matter. She only knew that somehow their lips met, and she had wrapped her arms tightly around his neck to make up for their difference in height. He held her tighter against him and pulled her up, her feet no longer touching the ground as their mouths lingered together, resistant to breaking apart.



“This isn’t right.” He placed her down and let go of her, marching to the center of the living room, holding his forehead, hunched over in a way that seemed like he was hurting. “For whatever reasons you might see it fit to kiss me… You are so terribly young and – and I respected your mother very much.” He was pacing now, speaking angrily to the rug.



Bridget glared at him, fresh tears burning her eyes. He hated her. She stomped into the kitchen and started pouring pure rum into a new glass, intent on drinking herself numb rather than face what had just happened. It’s true, they had kissed and it was more than possible that she had instigated it. Perhaps she was going mad to wish such attention from a man so much older than her. And for him to reject her like that just made her feel much worse ‘adding insult to injury’ as they say.



She returned to the living room, chugging the liquor down. More than anything, she had been sure that he must have left by then, but there he was, standing to face her right outside the kitchen, his face relaxed, his hands at his sides.



“You shouldn’t do that. You’ll become ill.” He frowned down at her new glass.



“I can hold my drink.” Wiping away the alcohol from her lips, she heard herself slurring, betraying her own words as she stumbled passed him, raising the cup to her mouth yet again.



He grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked the glass from her hand, raising it above her head as she attempted to steal it back.







“I’m such an idiot.” She whispered as much to herself as to him, realizing how immature she was acting. “I’ve just been so lonely and frightened… and everything’s been happening so quickly. I guess I was just taking it all out on you. Wow, I am so sorry, Professor.” Bridget started biting on her knuckle, trying to hold back more tears that wanted to fall, hunching in front of him like a child caught misbehaving.



Snape shook his head and stood tall, taking down the rest of the liquor himself in one swig and winced at the offensive taste. “Please don’t think that I don’t find you-.” He stopped, looking terribly uncomfortable as he motioned at her compassionately. “You’re a very beautiful young woman, of course, and-“



“You don’t need to do that.” She smirked ruefully, shaking her head, blushing a little bit. “It was wrong of me to think-“



“No it’s my fault, truly. I know I have acted strangely around you, Miss Evans. I can only imagine what you must have thought that night at your parent’s resting pla-.”



He was directly cut off and she had thrown herself on him again, knocking the glass violently out of his hand, causing it to tumble down to the carpet. She was holding onto him so tightly it knocked the breath out of him. Her head was cradled into his chest again, sobbing harder than before.



“I’m sorry!” She cried out. “I can’t help it, really!”



_________________________



“That’s… ok…” He held her lightly again, rubbing her shoulder. “I know it’s been very hard for you and… please use me if you must to get it all out.” He grinned a little awkward grin and let her cry on him for some time before he felt her begin to go limp against him, her legs starting to give out. Before long he had to pick her up into his arms to keep her from falling onto the floor.



“I’m sorry. So sorry.” She mumbled into his chest as he carried her up the stairs, looking through the doors for a bed of some kind. He had found it and placed her slowly on top of the covers. As he rose to leave, he felt something tugging at the hem of his robe, keeping him from going forward.



“Please… just stay with me. I don’t wanna be alone.” She mumbled, crying softly, her emerald eyes glazed with sleepiness, drunkenness and now tears.



“I must extinguish the fire first.” He responded, knowing that he would not return after putting it out.



“But it’s charmed not to leave the fireplace. Remus told me.” She protested, frowning up at him, pulling harder on his robe.



“Ah…” He nodded and found it impossible to deny her, even if she’d just spoken so casually of one of his rivals. It reminded him of the pang he would feel with Lily would refer to Potter as ‘James’. She was so beautiful and weak. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever claimed to need him like this. He decided on lying down with her for a while, at least until she fell asleep. He removed his outer-robes, feeling uncomfortably hot with the alcohol coursing through his body.



Curling up next to her, she turned onto her side and clung to his neck with both hands, nuzzling into his white cotton peasant shirt. He could already feel her tears bleeding through and wetting his chest, Her breathing was slow, but somewhat jerky with her sobs. He winced as she drew herself closer, her legs touching his. Her hair was close to his nose and he couldn’t help but smell it. Her breathing became more even after only a few minutes, and he was sure she was sleeping peacefully now.



He shut his eyes tightly, forcing his body not to react to this intimacy. The area of sex was something he was not unfamiliar with. Severus Snape was not lacking in relations with women who would meet him on a moment’s notice for casual sex – no expectations and no kissing on the mouth. He was man enough not to let this girl get him excited in that way, surely.



It was the unmistakable emotion involved that was making him feel so differently. He had never expected to find him in a situation like this. Not since Lily married James Potter, and Snape had sworn to himself that he would never fall in love again, even if he could get over her. And of course, he never did.



The rum was turning his head numb and his body worked against his will, clutching her to him, taking in the scent of her. It was as if the deeply unsealing scars upon his memories were begging him to enjoy this moment and take her right then and there. Yet he knew that it was wrong in every way.



She was so young… the same age he and Lily had been when they had fallen out. If he did anything it would just tear him apart with guilt. Anything his heart might want was for purely selfish reasons, desiring vindication for his terrible failure in love, as if succeeding with this girl he hardly knew might correct the mistakes he had made with her mother.



Nothing could fix the past.



Even after she had fallen asleep and he was sure he could have made his escape, he buried his face into her hair, holding her close as the minutes drew on. Her body was soft and curvy, and he wondered if his own boney figure might have been hurting her, but she slept on, her chest rising and falling against his.



Carefully, he drew back so as to look into her face, long and shaking fingers pulling her hair back to gaze longingly at those familiar features. The fates were toying with him. There was no other explanation. Why would one so young, so beautiful, so much like Lily embrace him – want him like this? He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Some time ago he had fantasized about this sort of thing with her mother, and his head buzzed with a mixture of alcohol and wish fulfillment.



This kiss was much gentler than the one that had occurred downstairs, yet the sensations were far more intense. Perhaps it was because there had been so much apprehension, and now they were lying down next to each other. It felt so deeply intimate, yet still wrong. Adding to everything else, she was asleep and couldn’t protest if she wanted to.



At this thought, adoration turned to desire. ‘Can’t say no…’ The wicked voice in the back of his head whispered maliciously. ‘You didn’t have the guts to do it back then. You were afraid Lily would say no. Now you’re a man and have the power. She was the one who kissed you downstairs, remember? She wants it. She wants you.’



A pang of guilt hit his gut with a heavy blow. Here he was, lusting over a seventeen-year-old sleeping girl, the daughter of the unrequited love of his life. Pathetic.



The wicked voice was now screaming at him in protest, but he forced it back into silence. He quickly but silently slid away from the girl, wincing in disgust at the situation he found himself in. He inched to the edge of the bed, feeling nauseous with what he had just done.



Severus reflected painfully at this recurring pattern of his life… He had a knack for letting his cruel side lead him to do low and selfish things that his conscience, and that which was good in him would regret deeply afterwards.



He held his head in his hands miserably, his mind full of guilty longing for his one love’s daughter who lay innocent and violated. If Lily could see him now, she must truly despise him, he thought with suffocating bitterness, panting in anger.



Wrenching upward in alarm, he felt Bridget shifting behind him and he straightened up, looking over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were blinking sleepily and he hoped beyond hope she was unaware of what he had done to her. Judging by the way she smiled pleasantly at him, she had no idea.



“You didn’t leave.” She whispered, pulling herself closer to him. “You’re still staying, aren’t you?” The girl drew nearer, peering at him with innocent quizzicality.



“… Of course.” He breathed back, unsure of what to say, his dark eyes unable to meet hers. He hung his head to the side, his profile set tragically against he dim light that came through the door.







_______







Bridget had been totally oblivious of what had happened, but she thought with a small blush that she had dreamt of him. They had kissed and cuddled in the dream. It was far from erotic, but still left her feeling hot and flustered.



She also found herself admiring him there, his slender figure now visible without the bulky robes. His large nose looked actually quite handsome set against his sharp features, black hair falling over his face as he sat there on the edge of the mattress, looking down at his long hands, thinking about something she couldn’t read.



“Listen… I’m not sure this is…” Snape had broken the silence, his mouth hesitant to continue. He looked over his shoulder at her again, looking nervous and deeply troubled. “Perhaps if you wish me to stay, I should take the couch. This is far too inappropriate.”



“No.” She had spoken too quickly, knowing it sounded bad, but she wanted him near her. Bridget was quickly realizing that he fascinated and intrigued her. Perhaps it was girlish crush, but whatever it was, it was taking hold over her in the worst way.



“Why?” The intensity of his voice had shocked her, sending her back a few inches on the bed. He had risen to his feet, looking mad in the orange light, dark eyes full of what seemed like rage. “Please enlighten me as to why you wish my presence in your bed.” He was hissing at her in the way she had only witnessed when he had addressed Remus that fateful night. “For I cannot see why you should wish such a thing upon yourself. You are a virgin are you not?”



“I…. What?”



“You heard me perfectly well.” He spat. “Answer the question.”



She had withdrawn into a little ball, scared out of her wits at the way he had reacted. “Well… yes, but-“ There were more tears threatening to fall, and she couldn’t finish her sentence.



“Yes, but WHAT, may I ask?” He sneered, folding his arms across his chest. “There is no ‘but’, Miss Evans. You are being a ridiculous little girl. You hardly know me, a man more than twice your age, and you invite me into your bed, refusing to let me leave. I’d hate to see how you’d fare in the real world. You obviously need constant supervision. Idiotic little girl with absolutely no sense about you is what you are. Honestly!” He was pacing, throwing horribly disdainful glares in her direction.



“Fine! So I’m an idiot!” Bridget sobbed. “At least I’m not ignoring how I feel!”







“How you feel?” Snape mocked her, sneering more fiercely than ever. “I am quite aware of your muggle soap operas, Miss Evans. You’ve obviously been exposed to them far too often. Do you really believe that’s how things work? I’m afraid you’ve been laboring under a serious and false understanding of things.”



Unable to respond, she exclaimed a muffled scream and threw a pillow at him.



_______



It bounced off his leg pathetically and he rolled his eyes, reaching for his robes. “Get some sleep. Perhaps you’ll come to your senses tomorrow.” He muttered, slicking his hair back with both hands, realizing that Bridget was now sobbing violently into her remaining pillow.



He wanted to console her… wanted to apologize for everything he had said and profess undying devotion, beg her to be his now and forever. She looked up to see if he had left and he sneered again, ending such thoughts immediately. Seeing his cruel look, she cried out and returned to the pillow, breaking his heart in a feeling that resembled what he thought a slow death must be like. He couldn’t torture himself with this any longer.



Within seconds he was marching angrily away from the house, watching as it disappeared into nothingness, the protective charms taking hold.



As he lay restless and alone in his dungeon chamber, he knew the sun was rising and Bridget was alone as well, but probably not as distraught as he was. At least she would have the convenience of being able to despise him. He was not so lucky.



Severus swiftly understood he now felt as he did in his teen years, sleepless in his green four-poster bed, believing himself to be the very lowest of the low in terms of humankind. Back then it had been for treating the one person he cared most for in the world like filth. This was too similar – too close to his core to handle.



He went over and over in his mind the way he had insulted her. Indeed, when she had said ‘the way I feel’ in such genuine compassion, and even when she threw the pillow at him, she had seemed to him, the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes upon.



And yet he knew the only way to save her from him was to act as cruel as he did. The person he had become – the person who had spoken to her so cruelly – was the persona he lived his life as. In fact, she had been the first person to see him as himself since his youth. But then again, he had been an act for so long, he wondered who ‘himself’ really was anymore. Would he even recognize the real Severus Snape if he resurfaced?



He thought he had come so far… He thought he had finally buried the unreasonable part of him that wished and dreamed for something more.



The stress, in addition with the obnoxious sensation of the alcohol leaving his body, left him no choice but to take a sleeping draught. Only imagining how he would feel upon awakening, he simply wanted to stop thinking, to rest and forget for even just a little while.





_______





“So you have not found her… We have other matters at hand. I take the burden off you, Severus. She is hardly a threat, knowing so little. The girl would have been useful to draw in Black and his lupine friend, but I believe we should fare to rid of them by other means. Very few of the intrepid Order remain. Yes. All is falling into place.”



Night was upon them, and Voldemort took a leisurely pace around the drawing room, whispering gently as he gazed into Nagini’s eyes, her long muscular body hanging over his shoulders like an ugly scarf.



“Yes, My Lord. They can’t last much longer, I will redouble my efforts and show them your justice quite soon.” Snape smirked, a convincing look of hate carved in every feature on his face. Though he always found himself at ease in playing this role of Voldemort’s faithful servant, it took even less effort to claim his undying wishes to bring pain upon the men in question.



“Bellatrix wishes to get rid of her cousin on her own, of course. However, she seems to be taking more time than I would like, and I ask of you to do the deed yourself. I know what you are capable of and entrust it to you.” The serpentine master drew nearer to Snape, his eyes flashing red.



“I am honored, My Lord.” Severus bowed his head, his hand to his heart in a display of respect.



“Within a few months, our dreams will come to fruition. When the time comes, I shall not forget your loyalty. You will be rewarded most of all my children. Now… Leave me.” He glided away from Snape, hissing incoherent words to his pet, stroking her scaled head softly, and leaving Severus to his own.



He would have to inform Dumbledore immediately of what task had just been placed upon him. The Dark Lord expected him to rid the world of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and though he felt such a thing might have been an act of charity, he put his feelings aside and found his way back to Hogwarts, his head full of particularly nasty ways he could torture Black to death. Loyalty and damned propriety were all that stood in the way…



Dumbledore’s plan was what he had expected it to be. Snape would tip The Dark Lord as to Black’s whereabouts where no doubt, a troop of Death Eaters would be sent to destroy him. Only they would be in for a surprise, where they had expected to find him on his own and unprepared, he would be well informed and members of the Order with him, ready to fight.



Snape would no doubt be asked to join the other Death Eaters and do his best to put on a convincing performance, while at the same time attempting not to harm any of the Order. This maneuver was used often to keep Voldemort from suspecting him of treachery, while at the same time slowly cutting off numbers of both sides. It was the only way they knew how to cope. In truth, he was growing deeply weary of it all and was beginning to care not who won any longer.



Even worse, the next Sunday would be the third of the month.



He had almost considered asking Dumbledore to send someone else to take on the responsibility of tutoring the girl, but he didn’t want to be questioned on why or wherefore he so desperately wanted to stay as far away from Godric’s Hollow as he could for the rest of his life. His sanity was precious to him and this was threatening to tear it away.