Vain Wisdom All and False Philosophy

Author’s Notes: I’M BACK!

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Chapter Twenty Nine - His Red Right Hand (Part 2)

Albus fucking Dumbledore.

He’d been this man’s puppet for so very long.

But the end was near; he could taste it.

Snape’s forearms flexed as the pillow pushed away from his chest.

It would be so…

Severus stepped closer to the old man’s hospital bed.

… easy.

---

“Forgive me, please,” Albus wheezed.

Bewildered, Snape released his grip on the pillow, carefully eyeing the old man before him.

Albus’ eyes were still closed, body immobile. But Snape could still hear him; he could still see his despondent face speaking in his head.

“I did not expect to shackle you in service your entire adult life. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…"

Severus staggered, knocking the back of his knees and gracelessly falling into the chair behind him.

If Snape could go back and change things, change the choices he had made all those years ago, would he? If he could do it all over again, would Snape have made that irrevocable promise to Dumbledore, swearing his loyalty to the old man and his allegiance to the Order?

More voices rang in his head, unwanted images of incidents he’d hoped to have forgotten long ago.

Snape had taken a monumental chance by coming back here.

He hadn’t set foot on Hogwarts’ grounds for three years. Not since his final day as a student. He had left these walls, eager for the power and limitless possibilities that awaited him as a valued servant of the Dark Lord.

Snape had a great number of things he wanted to accomplish, but he soon realized that a servant never truly seizes control over his destiny.

So here he was, running up some blasted hill, out in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, to meet the very last wizard he wished to implore for help. Although the information had been forced out of him under extreme duress, Snape had already revealed everything he knew. But that wasn’t what this meeting was about…

A flash of light sent him plummeting to his knees.

“Don’t kill me!” It slipped out before Snape could stop it. Bile coated his tongue at his own self-disgust.

There was no point in pretending he still possessed any measure of self-respect. He’d knelt like this on hundreds of different occasions for the Dark Lord. But somehow, this was the first time Severus had truly felt like a pitiful servant.

Eyes trained on the muddied ground, Snape concentrated on the rustling of robes as the wizard stepped closer. His breath sped up, faster and faster, fully aware that Dumbledore could simply kill him and be done with it.

“That was not my intention.”

“You must… do… something.” Snape’s face twisted as he listened to the desperation behind his words.

“Must I?” Dumbledore asked coolly.

“If you don’t, the Dark Lord will kill the Potters!”

“Remember to whom you are speaking!” The air crackled as Albus roared with controlled anger in response to Snape’s bellow. Satisfied at the unintentional cowering of his former pupil, Dumbledore continued, “Such a request is strange, indeed, Severus. I really did not imagine that you would care about their fate, one way or the other.”

“This isn’t what I wanted. Enough… useless… blood has been shed by my hands. The wrong blood--I tire of seeing myself coated in the filth of strangers.”

“Well… aren’t we noble?”

“I did not come here to listen to your sarcasm, old man! I’ve given you information that could cause my death. Do with it what you will.”

Teeth bared, pale skin aglow in the dark, Severus rose the from ground with a snap, and turned his back on Dumbledore.

A loud crack echoed across the hush that had fallen around the forest. A spark of light saw Severus sprawled upon the earth, wide eyes gazing up at the disquieting image of Dumbledore bearing down on him.

“I did not say we were finished…”

“Release me--”

“Silence! Do you have any idea… Can you even begin to comprehend what you have done? Intentionally listening at the door to Professor Trelawney and I… to the prophesy…”

“Of course I know what I’ve done, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

“Relaying… word for word… putting that information in Voldemort’s hands!”

Severus clenched his eyes. He wasn’t hearing any admonishments he hadn’t already said to himself over and over… “I had no idea the prophesy was about them.”

“You have sentenced the Potters to their deaths!”

“And it should have been yours!” Severus wailed at the top of his lungs.

Dumbledore faltered. Something unknown clicked into place, and he released his grip from the young man’s robes.

Severus rose onto his knees, face engulfed in that grotesque loathing he had displayed to Dumbledore once before.

“You will never get it, will you, old man? All of this…” Severus ripped at the left sleeve of his robe. “Everything I have done for the… Everything has been in the anticipation that finally, one day, I would see your demise! When I listened at that door, all I knew was that I was hearing a prophesy meant only for your ears… meant for your benefit!”

Anger and cruelty Dumbledore could manage easily. But his own creation, face red and voice choked with stifled wretchedness, finally caused the Headmaster to take one unsteady step back.

“… No more.”

“This death sentence should have been yours!”

Much was said after this, but none of it necessary to remember. Despite Severus’ pleas, and regardless of Dumbledore’s precautions, only a speck of time passed until mother fate stepped in on the night Voldemort visited Godric’s Hollow. And those two wizards were forced to meet again.

Severus couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat. They’d been discussing this for hours, dancing around, but never voicing the inevitable.

He was lost. He didn’t know where he belonged anymore.

Glancing uncertainly around the Headmaster’s office, Snape rasped, “This isn’t what I… It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…”

“If you are trying to make me feel worse than I already do--”

“DON’T! The reasons I finally decided to answer your summons—none of this is about you. Not anymore…” Snape glanced down at his bare left arm. He’d had his sleeve rolled up all day, obsessively monitoring his flesh for any changes.

“Don’t carry around your own Mirror of Erised, Severus. You’ll waste your life away…”

“I’d hoped… I thought that maybe in his death, I’d be rid of it.”

“I don’t know what else I need to say or do to convince you… but Voldemort is not dead.”

Snape hissed. His hands clenched into the armrests to keep himself from lunging across the desk. Watching the sordid tattoo burn black, Severus yanked at his sleeve with a snarl, finally accepting its continued presence.

“So do you agree…?” Dumbledore asked carefully. His expression revealed his caution, but his words had been sincere, just as everything he had been explaining and pleading for the last hour had been.

The two men were not friends. Once enemies, their fates had driven them towards this uneasy truce against a common foe.

“I have no desire to become a hero. But I will accept a second shackle if it will eventually remove this other from my arm.”

“I cannot make any promises, nor will I pretend to know when he might return.”

“The Death Eaters are regrouping this very night, and the idea of returning to them… that life…” Snape couldn’t help the dry retch that croaked out of him. “Is there any other way…?”

“This is the only valuable service you can offer me. And trust me when I say, I would be nothing, nowhere, and totally in the dark without your assistance.”

Whether it was intentional or not, Dumbledore had succeeded in stroking the aching ego of a very proud young man.

“Very--well… I’ll spy for you.”

“I have no idea for how long it will be, Severus. You may be asked to accomplish a number of challenging… challenges. But I promise you, working for the Order will return your dignity. You will do this for me--with me?”

“Anything.”

“ENOUGH!”

His muscles rigid with anger, Snape regarded the unconscious body of Albus Dumbledore once again. Wetness trailed down the outside edges of his wrinkled eyes.

Eyes narrowed, Severus pointed an accusatory finger and repeated with conviction, “Enough.”

*** *** ***

“My Lord.” Kneeling on the floor, Severus bowed so low that his face nearly touched the floorboards.

“You have made me wait. So this had better be good,” Voldemort hissed.

“It is time, Master. We must act now. As I speak to you… this very instant… Dumbledore lies helpless on his deathbed. He’s moments away from…” The words were tumbling out of Snape’s mouth quicker than he could comprehend them. Adrenaline pumped through his veins so hard and fast that he was growing dizzy in his agitation.

A part of him--that small part that mourned the loss of the eager, genuine man he used to be--wanted to cut the tongue out of his own mouth.

Voldemort screeched, moving violently with a speed Severus had not seen him accomplish in a very long time.

“It is too soon! When Dumbledore dies, Potter will receive his--has Black made any progress with his watch? Before I can achieve true immortality, my successor must take his foot out of death’s door!”

Severus had assumed much, but he hadn’t expected this revelation. “Black… the next Dark Lord?”

His head flew black, neck nearly snapping at the blow to his jaw.

“GET UP!” the Dark Lord snarled down upon him. “If you hadn’t said those blasphemous words with such disbelief, your punishment would have been more severe than you can imagine.”

“Forgive me--”

“SILENCE! There will always be one, and only one, Dark Lord… By securing Black’s immortality, I am merely guaranteeing my own.”

“Of course, my Lord. Black can never hope to achieve even a fraction of the power you possess.”

“And yet, you have failed in the task I asked of you.”

Severus stiffened. “No, Master--not yet! He possesses the desire, of that I’m certain. Your books have completely saturated his mind. But I fear he does not possess the final motivation to complete that… ultimate… step.”

“I would have thought that by now, his desire for the Mudblood would have been motivation enough to improve his… living conditions.”

“He possesses the motivation, yes,” Severus repeated carefully. “But he needs a sacrifice, one he will be eager to make.” As those final words spat out of Severus’ mouth, he dared to lift his reverently titled jaw without permission. Meeting the wild red eyes of the Dark Lord, Severus completely opened his mind to an extent he had never attempted or wanted--until now.

The pale, scaly creature returned the Potion master’s stare, face twitching monstrously in glee.

“I knew sparing that pathetic creature’s life would be beneficial to me… in the end. You were wise to hold him for me. Do it! Tonight, Severus.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

*** *** ***

Severus sat stiffly upon his four-poster at Spinner’s End, his mind heavy with all that had happened in such a short amount of time.

Wormtail had sensed his presence. The rat’s muffled screaming pleas for food hadn’t stopped since Snape had set foot in the house. But Severus had long grown accustomed to that sound. It was almost comforting at times.

Finally achieving a moment of contemplative silence, Snape had begun to… question… his motives. Especially the motives behind his actions of the last twenty-four hours.

Ultimately… he didn’t have any. How was that possible?

He knew his own nature all too well. Snape easily shifted from total indifference to either bloodthirsty anger or sadistic amusement. And he reacted in situations depending on which emotion was strongest.

But, why? Where was this all leading? What did he ultimately hope to achieve?

Severus didn’t want to admit it, but for the second time in his life, he was lost.

And a knot in the pit of his stomach seemed to incessantly twist the longer he went without any word from Hermione.

He hadn’t expected to wake up alone after such a night, and her continued lack of communication was--unsettling--to say the least.

Severus jerked out of his trance when Minerva’s feline Patronus meowed at his feet. His jaw tightened listening to her message. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to stand vigil beside Albus’ hospital bed, surrounded by dim-witted Order members.

If he hadn’t been… hoping… to speak to a specific Gryffindor, Snape wouldn’t have bothered.

*** *** ***

“Why’ve we been called here?” Tonks whispered to Moody.

“The Healer suggested we all needed to hear this. Said he’d only explain it once.”

The entire Order was gathered around the Headmaster’s hospital bed. The air suffocated them with agitation and the irritating odor of disinfectant. For longer than they were prepared to accept, each individual had greatly depended on this man. But now, as the last bits of life and magic drained from Albus’ decrepit body, the Order’s entire world seemed on the verge of... They didn’t know what, exactly. A precipice was approaching, the consequences of which remained to be seen.

Many warily gazed at one another from the corner of their eyes. Behavior today was strange, distorted.

Sirius had walked into the room with a swagger not seen since his school days. Several thought his attitude too belligerent for an occasion reserved for somber reflection. But he returned those disapproving glances with condemnations of his own. His eyes were uncomfortably knowing, like he had just recently learned everyone’s darkest secrets…

Harry was a total mess. He didn’t know whether to crumble in desolation or fly a few laps around the Quidditch pitch. His head had been pounding unbearably since the Headmaster’s collapse, but his nerves pulsed, eager for some unknown excitement that awaited him.

Everyone was surprised to see Hermione taking this the worst. She seemed almost dazed upon her solitary entrance. Her swollen and bloodshot eyes were a rare sight indeed, considering she’d always emanated such a strong, unaffected presence. What was even more troubling was the spectacle of her running straight into the open arms of Harry, practically hiding her face beneath the folds of his robes. She hadn’t moved since.

And no one missed the flinch she had displayed when Sirius had tried to intercept her.

The Healer stood expectantly at the foot of Dumbledore’s bed. Perspiration beaded his brow. Retrieving an embroidered handkerchief from his inner robes, he wiped at the moisture multiple times before finally asking, “Everyone’s here, then?”

“Yes,” Moody lied, not expecting a word in defense of the unmistakable absence of a certain black-robed wizard.

The Healer nodded and went straight to business. “Are any of you aware of the potions Headmaster Dumbledore has been taking?”

Unnerving silence was the response he received.

“What’s wrong with him?” Minerva finally asked.

“I’ve never seen a case like this before.” The Healer thumbed through a stack of parchment. “Magic, older than the books I’d studied--well, that’s neither here nor there. It isn’t the cause of his illness that worries me as much as the… treatment… used. Or what Headmaster Dumbledore mistakenly believed was a treatment. This man has been poisoned. An illegal potion has been detected in his system.”

Everyone shouted and gasped to different degrees, save the one man who eagerly waited for the exact moment to speak.

“So I repeat, are any of you aware of the potions Headmaster Dumbledore has been taking?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sirius snarled, his righteous fury directed at a presence behind the Healer’s back.

Minerva glanced quickly at Snape’s sudden, unlucky appearance before demanding, “What are you on about, Sirius?”

“Didn’t you know? Snape’s been force-feeding the Headmaster his own grisly concoction for months!”

“That doesn’t mean--”

“Tell them, Harry,” Sirius demanded.

Harry removed his concentration from the distressed woman in his arms to gaze at his godfather. “I’m not sure…”

“You’ve seen Snape feed a strange potion to Dumbledore. You told me this before! How many times have you arrived at the Headmaster’s office right when Snape had finished administering this… potion.”

“I have seen—a few times, but--”

“Murderer!” Moody howled, frightening those around him. Years of suppressed resentment released all at once. He would have tackled the Potions master if Remus hadn’t physically held him back. “I warned Albus, for years, but he never listened to reason... Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!”

Arms folded, Professor Snape had remained motionless for the duration of this exchange. In the midst of a tense silence, seconds before Black or Moody leveled their wands, he impassively droned, “I take it I’ve been charged and convicted, then?”

Snape may have been asking the room at large, but his eyes fixed on one person in particular. Hermione had finally managed to pull herself away from Potter’s arms, but she couldn’t seem to make heads or tails at what was being said.

Something… foreign… inside Snape clenched at the cringe she’d displayed upon hearing the sound of his voice. Teeth bared, he growled to himself and dismissively shook that last thought from his head.

After Hermione had gazed long and questioningly at the Headmaster’s fragile figure, she whirled around toward Snape, eyes chock-full of some horrid emotion he couldn’t identity. But that alone spoke volumes… It was a look she had never given him before.

Snape’s senses fractured, releasing an unnamed anchor he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

He didn’t need to see or hear anything from anyone in this room. Not anymore.

Fuck them all… Snape drew his wand.

“Moody, Sirius! Lower your wands! This isn’t the way the Headmaster would want us to handle this!”

“Shut up, Potter. Severus Snape, you’re formally under arrest.”

Snape smirked sarcastically at Moody’s attempt to threaten him. “Oh, I don’t think so…”

“Finally, everyone can see you for the bastard you truly are…” Under different circumstances, many would have been revolted by the amount of joy Sirius displayed. But far too much had been revealed in such a brief amount of time.

“Enough, the both of you!” Wand drawn, Harry focused on Moody and Sirius’ predatory circle around the impressive figure of Severus Snape. He didn’t know whom to disarm first.

Everyone was screaming and protesting at once, demanding their voice be heard. So no one noticed when Hermione finally spoke up. Despite her effort, she had been too distraught to put true force behind her words. Her pleas went unnoticed by all, especially by the one man who needed to hear them.

All three men shouted hexes simultaneously. Sectumsempra was unmistakably one of them.

A wide gash ran up Sirius’ wand arm, yanking at his aim and flinging his curse at Moody.

Distracted by the blood and Black’s scream, Snape managed his escape with ease.

“After him!” Sirius demanded.

“Leave it,” Harry said calmly, ripping away Sirius’ torn sleeve and tying the fabric above his elbow.

“He’s going to You-Know-Who! We can’t let him--”

“I said let it be.”

Sirius snapped his mouth shut.

Harry hadn’t yelled or threatened. In fact, his voice had leveled out to an eerie calm, but the warning was instantly recognizable and couldn’t be ignored. It reminded Sirius of someone in particular, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Harry then directed that indisputable directive to Moody, but also spoke to the room at large, particularly the Aurors.

“The warrant on Snape is rescinded. He is merely sought for questioning.”

“You have some nerve, boy!”

An undetected wave of his wand and a flash of light saw Moody flying back against the wall and all three Auror wands in Harry’s hand. “Do not call me ‘boy’. While I hope and pray the Headmaster pulls through, we still have a mission to accomplish. At the Ministry, I’ll mind your authority, Moody. But as a member of the Order, you will obey mine.”

“You dare to take his--?”

“OH, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, MOODY!” Minerva screeched, her voice choked by tears. “Was there ever any doubt? After everything you’ve seen, it only makes sense--SIRIUS! Get back here! We’ll worry about Severus later.”

Sirius continued towards the exit, hissing over his shoulder, “Fuck Snape! I’m going after Hermione.”

After a quick glance, it was acknowledged that the Head Girl was indeed absent, her departure as equally unnoticed as the Potions master’s.

*** *** ***

Rounding a corner, Sirius intercepted the very person he’d wanted to speak to all day. He thanked the stars he was able to stop Hermione before she’d reached the Entrance Hall doors. Regretting his treatment of her at number twelve, Sirius finally felt confident that present circumstances were tilted in his favor.

Reveling at the feel of having her in his arms, Sirius came to his senses once he bothered to appreciate the state she was in.

“Go away.” Face swollen and red, tears incessantly trailed down her face.

“Hermione, love…” Sirius allowed her to pull away from him, but he refused to release his grip of her wrist. “Please… what is it?”

“I doubt he’d return to Spinner’s--Where is he? Where would he go?”

Sirius shook his head, smiling gently. “You’re not making any sense. Where is who--?”

Somehow, his own question was answered before he’d finished verbalizing it. Considering everything that had just taken place and who had fled the castle, who else would Hermione be running after; who else would she be asking for?

… Crying for?

His eyes darkened. “You’re confused and distraught over Dumbledore’s death,” he insisted. “You need a lie down.”

Hermione returned his stare with a blank one of her own. “What are you talking…? The Headmaster isn’t dead, Sirius!”

“You know what I mean.”

“RELEASE ME, NOW!”

Sirius grasped her shoulders, yanking her hard, as if the violence would affect her senses. “Where the hell do you think you are going at a time like this? You should be upstairs with everyone else!”

“I need to find him!”

“NO! After everything I’ve—dammit, can’t you see he’s evil, Hermione? He practically killed the Potters, and he attempted to murder the Headmaster!”

Hermione couldn’t speak. Face red with tears, she continued shaking her head, stony determination in her eyes.

“I’ve known,” Sirius gasped suddenly. “The two of you… somehow I’ve known…” His violence returned when she turned away. “NO! What can he give you that I can’t? Does he really treat you that much better? What does he have that I don’t—”

“A pulse!”

Sirius froze.

Teeth clenched, Hermione wrenched her elbow back, freeing her wrist. Just as quickly, her arm soared through the air, punching Sirius clear across his eye socket.

*** *** ***

Severus couldn’t even begin to describe the vicious thoughts and ideas pulsing in his mind, in his very blood.

He couldn’t blink without recalling those eyes.

Those accusing, distrustful eyes, directed at him for the second time in the last twelve hours.

Everything was shit.

Now that the old man was a few breaths away from death, Snape couldn’t see the point in any of… this… Not anymore.

Even Dumbledore had given up. Given up on him. The bastard had used Severus’ own potion, his very hands, to accomplish his death. No one would believe he hadn’t slipped the Headmaster a tainted potion. He was the school’s Potions master for fuck’s sake.

Years of servitude… Twenty years of sacrificing his life, his will, and everyone was still quick to believe the worst of him. And for what? Without Dumbledore, he was nothing to the very people he had fought side by side with for the last two decades.

More importantly, he was nothing to her.

But what was it all for? What did he have to show for his lifelong sacrifice?

He was back at square one.

Severus hissed, holding his arm. Entering his bedroom at Spinner’s End, he breathed deeply through his nose, fighting against the urge to destroy something, even himself.

With those thoughts in mind, he purposefully turned toward his bookcase. Lip curled, a sharp snap of his wrist flung open the hidden door.

A terrified whining issued from the darkness within.

Placing both hands on either side of the entryway, Severus slowly stepped forward, practically smiling as he looked down the pitch-black staircase.

“If you make me come and fetch you…” Severus didn’t need to finish his warning.

“You-you were summoned too?” a pathetic voice asked. “But I’m n-never summoned with the rest of you.”

“It was for your protection, but I doubt that matters anymore.”

“What—? No… NO!”

Severus’ arm burned twice as fierce. The Dark Lord was impatient to get this done.

Screaming, Pettigrew scampered up the stairs, attempting to plow through Severus and make a run for it.

Severus easily caught the rodent by the neck of his filthy robes.

Ignoring the wizard’s wails and pleas, Severus dragged the rodent behind him, down the stairs and out the front door.

*** *** ***

She’d been crying incessantly since fleeing Hogwarts. Hermione’d hoped she would have arrived here so much sooner, but she feared Apparating in the state she was in. Finally arriving at the far side of Spinner’s End, Hermione fell forward with a gasp, as if she’d been holding her breath the last ten minutes. One pained wail escaped her, making her aware of her own voice and she squashed said dramatics with a gulp. Pushing herself off the pavement, she ran with all her might… hoping… praying…

Harry didn’t seem too concerned about locating Severus… and he knew the wizard’s Death Eater history. If Harry knew, then the Headmaster knew, too. Both had seemed to irrefutably trust the Potions master to some degree.

The accusations were false. They had to be…

That potion Harry and Sirius had witnessed Severus give the Headmaster… Hermione had seen it, too. She’d watched Severus carefully create it moments before he’d delivered it to the Headmaster. Moments before it was completed, Severus lowered his face along the surface. He whispered… he whispered an incantation…

An incantation that now seemed very similar to that first night as Spinner’s End—when he’d healed the bruises upon her wrists.

An incantation that now seemed identical to the one he said over her prone, bleeding body when he’d healed Macnair’s slicing hexes.

“Severus!”

Hermione pulled open the unlocked front door and stepped into a destroyed living room.

She already knew she was too late as she wailed his name once more.

Stumbling up the stairs, Hermione wheezed, her chest tightening painfully. Why hadn’t she tied all this together before?

Something was wrong…

Exceedingly wrong.

Identical to downstairs, Severus’ room was also destroyed, as if a vicious struggle had just taken place. Wand leveled shakily in front of her, she pointed it at the open bookcase to her left. Shining her wand light down to the bottom of the hidden stairway, Hermione could clearly see that it was empty.

What was going on? Where would Severus take Pettigrew… and why?

Severus needed her. She could feel it.

Analyzing everything that had happened in the hospital wing, Hermione vividly remembered Severus’ face as the entire Order had turned on him. He’d been looking for some type of—reassurance—from her.

But she… feared… him, and selfishly so. Feared that he would revert back to the beast that had attacked her last night. Feared that he would retaliate for the serious wounds she had inflicted in her defense. But worse of all, Hermione feared that with one look he would dismiss her, toss her aside without explanation or apology. All these self-centered, pathetic notions had her sick with distress, and it had taken Hermione much longer to process the wild accusations made by the very people who had come to depend on Severus.

Snape had completely misunderstood. She was not horrified by him, only the situation he was placed in and the irrational reactions of those around her.

Crying out as if in pain, Hermione suddenly remembered that Severus hadn’t put any effort into escaping until after he’d laid eyes on her.

*** *** ***

Sirius knew he was needed at the castle. He knew his godson and the remainder of the Order required his help regarding Snape. He was also fully aware that he should be standing vigil with everyone beside Albus’ hospital bed.

“A pulse!”

He felt no regret for deciding to get pissed in the Hog’s Head, instead.

Hypocrites and deceivers, all of them.

His godson included. Sirius grinned importantly to himself as he gulped another dram of whisky. Every time his thoughts returned to Albus’ Pensieve, Sirius smiled indulgently. He’d seen everything… everything Albus had tried to hide from him and those around him. Every lie, every justification, every excused sacrifice.

Sirius was merely one of many.

Fingering the watch in his pocket, his heart suddenly started racing. Dumbledore feared the exact same thing Sirius’… guide… wanted of him. Since he’d first fallen through the veil, that feminine apparition had incessantly goaded him, encouraged him—even shamed him—into taking that final step towards having a more… permanent existence…

“What does he have that I don’t—?”

“A pulse!”

He had never considered it seriously until now. But how…?

Lost in this haze of intoxicated musings, Sirius tensed as a black-cloaked wizard unceremoniously pulled up a chair at his table.

“Can I help you?” Sirius asked.

“My—master—sent me here.”

Sirius’ lowered his glass. Fidgeting, he searched around to see if someone was watching them, if this was a trap.

He then picked up his whisky, swallowing it all in one go. Setting down his tumbler once more, Sirius stretched his left arm across the table, forearm facing up.

“I’ll show you mine,” Sirius said, “if you show me yours.” He then pulled back his sleeve to expose his unblemished flesh.

Purposefully eyeing Sirius’ arm, the stranger gulped his liquor and shoved his left arm into his robes.

Sirius stood up. “I think we’re done here.” Just as quickly, as he attempted to make his exit, the stranger yanked his elbow, forcing Sirius back to his seat.

“We’re done when I say we’re done…Black!”

It was an unwritten rule for patrons to mind their own business in the Hog’s Head if they intended to leave the establishment in one piece. Nevertheless, a few heads cautiously turned in their direction, drawn by the ruckus and taboo subject matter.

“I’ve no business with your kind,” Sirius snarled in a superior manner.

The stranger laughed by means of a snort. “I doubt that. Once you hear what I have to say, you’re going to follow me out that backdoor and side-along Apparate to our… summons. And not because I dragged you unwillingly.”

“Fuck off!”

“He can give you exactly what you desire, you know. And so easily.” That last part hissed out of the ominous wizard’s mouth, slow and enticing.

Sirius couldn’t resist the temptation to ask, “Who?”

“You know who,” the stranger answered meaningfully.

Sirius faltered. He looked at the man, then the patrons as if he were somehow on display. Face hot with embarrassment at his betraying thoughts, Sirius slammed his palm upon the table and said, “No.”

That wizard called to his back, voice knowing, “What have you got to go back to? Who’d ever want half a man?”

Sirius froze before taking a step towards the door.

---

Author’s Notes: As you can see, my lost data has been recovered and I have all my notes and uncompleted chapters back. I humbly apologize for the extremely long wait. I’m fully aware that in this story’s absence, I have lost some readers, but I thank those of you who continue to read.

-I’d be lost without my incredibly brilliant beta, melusin.

-Thank you to those of you who have nominated my other fics Bound to Happen(Drama and Challenge category) and Coveted Persecution(Dark Fic category) in the OWL Awards. I am beyond ecstatic. Voting is currently open here: http://owl.tauri.org/index.php

-BulletTimeScully Has created some awesome fanart based on this fic. If you haven’t done so already, check out her creations here: http://bullettimescully.deviantart.com/gallery/#Vain-Wisdom-Pieces

-Chapter title taken from John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book ii. Line 174.