Twenty
Pettigrew's death settles over Black like a blanket on a warm night. Itching, uncomfortable, trapping him in a troubled state. It lingers as they get up, as they move away from the town where Black chose to process his shock and grief, to accept them. It will take a while, yet it will happen eventually, because Black wasn't the one that ended his life.
It takes an anger that borders on hatred to kill a person. Black would have done it. He wanted to. Severus had watched as the features of his face transformed, as each punch was more feral than the other, as his helplessness of a situation that couldn't be reversed consumed him. He would have done it, and it would have broken him.
It takes a special kind of hatred to kill a person-or a strong will to protect.
Pettigrew needed to die. Everything else is irrelevant.
"Your brother's location, his involvement will stay hidden." Severus says, as they walk towards the house. The lights are still on, late into the night, but he's sure no one is going to sleep at a time like this. The Ministry's fall will cause a ripple effect. It's a loss on their side that tips the scale, widening the imbalance.
It's what made Severus come here.
Black is quiet throughout their journey, and it would be a welcome change if it weren't so unsettling.
"If Albus is there, we'll decide then, if we'll share the information we have." Severus adds, but Black doesn't respond, he's walking straight forward, almost passing through the wards.
Severus grabs his arm to stop him. They have been here before, in the exact same spot, in a similar situation.
"Do I have to repeat myself?" Severus asks, and Black glances at him.
"No." He says, and Severus isn't sure, if he's still shocked, angry or disappointed. He's staring at him as if he wants to ask something-or argue.
"It doesn't seem like you're listening." Severus says. He's losing his patience.
Black turns away, as if retreating. He takes a breath, as though deciding against it, then stares back at Severus again.
"We slept together." He says.
Severus releases the hold on his arm, pulling away. A motion Black follows with his eyes.
He turns around fully now. Abandoning his next step-the wards, the mission.
"Do you ever think about that?" He's vibrating in a different energy from before, focused not absent, not lost. Not silent. Unsettling in a new way.
"Do you seriously want to discuss this now?" Severus straightens, and Black takes half a step closer.
"When then? In the middle of which battle do you think it's an appropriate enough conversation?"
Severus clenches his jaw.
"Because, really," another half-step and he's in front of Severus's face, "have you taken a moment to think how insane this is?"
"Insane is having this conversation in front of Molly Weasley's house." Severus grits his teeth.
"And you don't want to have it ever." Black yells. "We fucked and you pretend like.."
"Lower your voice." Severus grabs him, pulls him away from the wards. "What do you want to discuss exactly? Go on, talk, get it off your chest."
Black's breathing is loud, quick. He's angry. Severus is angrier.
"Nothing?" Severus says. "You wanted to throw a feat perhaps?"
Black puts his palm on his cheek, on his ear. Not a pull, not a grab-yet not gentle either.
"Don't mock me." He says.
Severus wants to reply, that he can't do anything but. That the situation is as ridiculous as it can be. That Black should stop staring, angry and almost betrayed. That lines have been crossed that should be re-established.
He looks away at the dark fields surrounding the Burrow.
"It is insane." Severus begins quietly. "Because the entirety of our lives is insane. Every wake, every step is insane. The fact that we are breathing right now is insane. I'm about to walk into a house of a person that dislikes me deeply and she will offer me coffee and she will ask if everything is alright. And then I will greet people that aren't too fond of me, people I myself barely tolerate. And despite that, we will sit around a table and we will discuss about strategies and we will put whatever trust there is left in one another. Do you know why?" He turns, staring at Black's sharp gaze, sharp even here, now, in the middle of a dark field. "Because that is all that is left. Because this is what the situation requires. Because they and I work together to get through this, so we don't have to meet each other ever again."
Black lets his hand fall, stepping back.
"Do you want to discuss that we fucked? It's perfectly normal in this insanity. You respect me," Severus tells him, "and I trust you, I respect you even." Because he can offer as much, he can offer that. Black's frown reforms into a surprise. "I didn't before. And you didn't, either."
Severus closes the distance Black created. He wants to discuss, he wants to know if Severus is thinking about it.
He will lay it all out for him. As he does with every plan, as he does because Black is living in the moment, any and every moment, feeling too intensely, too quickly, each emotion heightened, until it explodes and burns, like a falling star, a moment in the sky. A blink is all it takes to miss it.
"The person you were, the person of the life which you are fighting this war for, couldn't stand to be in a room with me and not insult me. And perhaps now, when all this ends and you will return back to your life, to Potter, you will be less insufferable, and we will nod at each other the few times we will meet at Lily's house. Perhaps there is no room for insults anymore. For loathing. But what happens here, now, will slowly fade away to the background of your flat and your friends, of a routine without the adrenaline death provides. You made the same mistake before, impulsively judging a situation, a person. I think history shows that you have been wrong more often than not."
Black watches every word that leaves his mouth. Severus shatters any reckless thoughts that he has, any mistake about what this is. About what this means. Nothing. A moment in the sky.
"The person I am," Severus grabs his shirt, Black blinks too slowly, breathes too quickly, the grip on his shirt tightens, "is necessary here, now, but unfitting everywhere else."
"I don't think you're..." Black tells him, too stubborn to back down, too stubborn to understand. He had been too stubborn with his brother, with Pettigrew, with every belief he carried, until he was proven wrong.
His breath is too close. Severus has been here before. So he backs away.
"I am. Give it time. You'll remember it when all this is over." Severus is prepared for when that time comes. He's been prepared since the first time Black kissed him. Perhaps even before that.
_____
It's Arthur who greets them with a raised wand and a haunted expression, replaced with relief as soon as he sees them.
They should have walked in here, level-headed and prepared, but Sirius couldn't stop himself. The need to do something, to say something-a want that must be explained. Exposed, so it can't fester inside him.
A mistake because Snape cut through it with precision, a laid-out explanation that Sirius craved, only to leave him more unbalanced in the end. It's the insanity, Snape says, and Sirius knows it well. He knows about temporary thrills. He knows it's mad, the very thought that Severus Snape has taken hold of his attention-a presence Sirius can't ignore, even in his mind. He knows and it feels too much for a fleeting feeling, it feels wrong to call it that, surgical, logical, because he is nothing but.
And yet Snape is right about how many illusions Sirius had held, illusions which kept him going until they evaporated, disappeared into thin air.
Sirius wants him. That thought is burnt on his mind. And perhaps Snape is right, perhaps it's the madness of the war, that makes it too much, too real, too consuming. But he does. His life, a series of cosmic jokes, of things that he longs never to grasp properly. Of things he wants, only to bury them under meaningless words, under deflection.
They walk into the house, Sirius hears people talking. He hears Remus. And for the first time since the moment he met him, the thought of seeing him, brings him dread. He will have to tell him that Peter is dead. And he is not in the best state of mind to do that.
"Some of us are here, we scattered after..." Arthur tells them.
A turn and they'll be on the Weasleys' lighted living room. One turn, and he'll have to face a life that's kept him going since school. Meetings and comrades, fights lost and won, Sirius there, always there, for the justice of it, for the beliefs he hid under jokes, and reckless behaviour. A young man, a dashing soldier, arrogant, a little bit of a dick, that his comrades excused, like his friends did, because he was funny, carefree, a bad boy with a good heart.
Is this it? The first crash back in the reality Snape described? Perhaps, he is so shallow, perhaps he'll return into his old patterns, they kept him going so far, they kept him there, surrounded by people. Perhaps he even joined the war, fought in it, to play the hero and keep up with what Sirius Black is, was, and will be.
Arthur has moved, he has announced their arrival, yet Sirius's steps have faltered, a slow drag of feet to fit a well-worn costume.
Fingers circle his wrist, a familiar gesture-grounding. A pull to an uncertain future, but a step forward nevertheless. Unstuck.
"Focus." Snape tells him, even if he's angry still, even if Sirius is too. Even when they fought mere minutes before. Sirius wants to tell him to stop, stop, stop, because he's familiar now, with how it feels, to be bare and honest. Because it's Snape's fault. Because his costume, a clown, Snape had said at first, when their partnership had just started, doesn't fit anymore.
Sirius clenches his fists, moving forward.
Molly is already serving coffee in two mugs, before abandoning them instantly as she sees them.
"I'm so glad you're fine, dear." A hug, crushing, warm.
"Every one of ours surviving matters." Andromeda is standing still, her hands on the couch, behind her husband's figure. "Severus." She says. "Cousin." It's funny that Andromeda is Black in everything, but beliefs. She is more Black that he ever was.
"Cousin." Sirius mimicks her and Andromeda huffs annoyed, under a smirk.
Molly leaves him, only for Remus to take her place.
"I was so worried you'd do something reckless." He says. "That you'll get yourself killed."
Sirius closes his eyes. Opens them again and pulls away.
"Moody is checking everyone with Kingsley." Arthur fills them in. "There was an announcement. I expect tomorrow's papers to cover it throughoutly. A change in leadership." He scoffs, angry. "There were people there that I greeted everyday. Lucy Harrilson died in front of my eyes."
Molly is caressing his shoulder.
"She had two kids." Arthur says.
"Many have fallen." Andromeda cuts through the conversation. "What matters is where we stand, what we are going to do next."
It's a familiar rhythm, pats on shoulders, on backs, a reliance that they are still here, still fighting.
Remus is looking at him. He is waiting, Sirius knows in what outcome he's interested in.
Sirius should tell him. He should tell him with a feral grin, with a hard look. Sirius Black, the prodigal son, the charming lethal fighter.
"Did Pettigrew escape?" He asks, brave enough to say it out loud, coward enough not to say Peter's name in front of the others.
Well, Sirius is the last one to call him out for it.
"He is dead." Sirius says simply, he looks at Molly's wooden floor, a kid's toy, barely visible under the couch.
He hears the silence, the buzz in his ears, the question left unspoken.
Did you kill him?
"I should have come with you." Remus says. He is squeezing Sirius' shoulder, to make him look at his eyes perhaps, to shake him. "Did...?" Another question. Sirius isn't sure how this one ends.
Did he suffer? Did he say he was sorry? Did it make you happy?
"Sirius." Remus starts, the way the name is spoken, familiar of times when Sirius pushed too much, too hard, a reprimanding tone, laced with worry, with care.
"I killed him." Snape says flatly. Sirius raises his gaze at him.
He sips his coffee, one hand on the handle, one under the mug. His back is straight, his chin slightly raised as if he's looking down at everyone in this bright living room.
He isn't lying. He is the one who killed him. And yet, Sirius knows, he knows, it's an act of protection. Because in the next breath, he has drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Sirius fades into the background, and it's only Snape and the rest, Snape against everyone, so Sirius can breathe.
And he wants to tell him, not to do it, because Sirius will not be able to help himself, consumed as he is, more, and he will ask for things that Snape can't give him.
"Where is Albus?" He asks, and Sirius isn't sure if he really wants to know, or if he takes pleasure from calling Dumbledore by his name, as if he's his only equal here. Sirius remembers as he watches him, why he got him so angry in the past, why every time he spoke, he wanted to punch him. Because he thought, he had mistook this total control of his, the sip, the posture, the way he speaks, for arrogance.
"You killed him." Remus says, asks. A step away from Sirius, another and he stops. He is angry, but his anger isn't expressed in yelling or physical contact-only in retreat, in helplessness. Because he's afraid of himself, of what he might do if he starts behaving like the wolf, outside of the days he can't help it. "This isn't right."
"Oh?" Snape shoots Remus a glance. "He was a traitor. That is right enough." He says.
"We can't begin behaving like them. Mindless executions of..." He waves his hands.
"There is no mindlessness in the way I operate." Snape tells him.
"He should have been put to Azkaban." Remus says. Perhaps he needed an explanation, one that Sirius denied him.
"Azkaban?" Snape says. "The Ministry has fallen. Azkaban comes next." Snape says.
Sirius sees, from the corner of his eye, Andromeda nodding, as if she agrees.
"Did he say anything?" Molly asks.
"He pleaded for his life." Snape replies and Molly lets out a quiet grasp. "A plea left unanswered."
"He could be valuable. We could interrogate him." Remus continues.
"Would you feel better if he went to Azkaban, if he died there? Would it be justified then?" Snape leaves his mug on the table.
"We can't shed who we are away. We can't become murderers." Remus says and Ted Tonks agrees with him.
"Nobody asked you to, Lupin. You can step aside, let someone else take the blame, while you stand there, doing nothing. You are great at it."
"I think we should all calm down. It's a difficult night as it is." Arthur says.
Snape scoffs, reaching for his cup.
"Does it cost you nothing?" Remus asks and it's quiet, but everyone is not talking, so Snape hears him, turning at him.
"No." He says. And Sirius knows it's a lie. He parts his lips. Maybe to say that. Maybe to say, that he wanted Peter dead. "You can keep your morals, Lupin, I'm not interested. Any action I deem necessary for winning, I act upon it. And when this war is won, when you close your eyes at night, tell yourself that you did enough."
Remus backs down, a step and Sirius touches his shoulder as a reflex, as consolation.
Snape shakes his head, a roll of his eyes, a barely there movement and he takes his mug back.
Sirius wants to tell him that he's on his side. That if there is anyone here that knows how much it costs, it's Sirius. He has seen what Snape is willing to sacrifice. His morals, his humanity, himself.
But Snape doesn't want words. He uses them precise like a scalpel, he uses them as a weapon, only to attack.
Everything else, every little thing that nobody here knows, it happens in actions.
Molly tenses, as Arthur says. "Someone's here."
It takes only a moment for Dumbledore to stride into the room.
_____
"Losing the Ministry is a blow, but the fall of many of our comrades is an even greater one." Albus says. Severus nearly rolls his eyes. "We should focus on protecting those we still have, fighting more fiercely, and strengthening our bonds. It is, after all, the trust we have in each other that keeps us going."
A great speech. A redirection. A shift of focus-from loss to the necessity of victory.
Severus applauds him in his mind. He could be a great Minister, he is already the pillar of this side.
"Of course," he says, "they will try to take other key locations-either as a strategic move or to deal a blow to our morale."
"Such as Azkaban." Andromeda Tonks says, a side glance to Severus to show that she agrees, that she is hearing him. She is level-headed enough, composed. They've barely disagreed with each other, in the Order's meetings.
"Yes." Albus says. "The Dementors are growing restless. That puts us at a huge disadvantage. They already have the werewolves."
"Our numbers are shrinking each day, and theirs are increasing." Arthur says. He watched people he worked with dying. He lost his job, there are children in the upper floor of this house that still need to be fed.
Albus puts a hand on his shoulder. A meaningless gesture, which provides nothing, but a false sense of burden sharing.
"And Hogwarts." Severus says, because no one else seems to think about it. Or they are too afraid to. As if fear will change the outcome, as if something left unspoken changes its importance.
They turn to him, surprised expressions, grim. He always has that effect. He hates these meetings.
"You should evacuate the school." He tells Albus.
"Hogwarts is the most secure place in the country, my dear Severus, there is nothing to worry about." Albus says with a smile.
"There is nothing unbreachable." Severus tells him. "And they will come for it."
Albus sighs, as if Severus is a boy who doesn't understand, as if he has to explain it to him.
"While he holds the Ministry and its resources, he will utilise them. Searches of houses are going to start. Random at first, then more precisely." He gives him a moment, a chance to think about it, as if Severus hasn't thought about it already, as if he hasn't acted upon it.
"The Records Department is gone. Black and I burned everything." Severus crosses his arms. It's Albus's turn to pause.
Another smile, bigger.
"That is excellent news." He says, and his tone carries the delight.
"Yes." Severus cuts him. "So the school needs to be evacuated."
"Still," Albus shakes his head thoughtfully, as if he's thinking about it. "The students are safer there, protected."
"The school is built to withhold any attack." Molly speaks, putting all of her faith in Albus words, his reassurance. "And the children don't have to face this-this horror."
"Are you really going to keep them there?" Severus addresses Albus and him only. "Is it arrogance, a means of leverage against the families that want to flee, or both?"
"Oh, don't say such things." Molly tells him. He's sure that, in her head, it's followed by 'nasty boy'. Perhaps he's biased, perhaps Molly Weasley doesn't use words like that even in the privacy of her mind.
"They breached the Ministry. They will try to take Hogwarts. Tell me you at least acknowledge the fact." Severus taps a finger on his arm. One. Two. A controlled breath. A frown.
"I agree that they might try." Albus tells him calmly. "But the Ministry's collapse was a mistake on our part that shouldn't be repeated. We lacked the information." He gives Severus a look, another chance to prepare. "Our eyes are blind and our ears are deaf, we don't know what is happening on their side. If we did, it wouldn't have happened." Severus stills. If you kept your role as a spy, he doesn't say, if you were there, this loss wouldn't have happened. It's a concealed blow, an argument of whose judgment is right. A way to say, if you were wrong about that, why would you be right about this.
"Fuck you." Black says, and Severus turns to him, they all turn to him, as if to confirm where the insult is directed to. No one talks to Albus like that. "Are you seriously saying what I think you're saying?" He laughs, cruelly, madly. "If you do, please, kindly fuck yourself."
There is a moment of silence. Black is sitting on a chair, smoking, a sharp gaze focused on Albus.
"Dear Sirius," he starts, breaking the silence, "I think you misunderstood my intentions."
"Did I?" Black asks. "Tell me then, what did you mean? Explain it to me plainly, so I can understand it."
Lupin is standing next to him, a touch on his shoulder, that Black shakes away while he gets up.
Molly tries to speak, Ted Tonks widens his eyes and Lupin takes a step as if to stop Black.
"This loss is nobody's fault." Albus says calmly. "What I'm saying is that we don't have someone to warn us for something like this to be avoided."
A blame. Severus knows. Black knows too. He was there when Lily begged him to stop. He was there when she told him about her pregnancy, wearing the white dress of her wedding. He was there when Severus caved.
"Go on, then." A raised palm, a gesture towards the door. "Be our ears and our eyes." Black says.
Severus wants to tell him how pointless is his argument. Albus role isn't that, it never was. He is the face their enemies fear, not a shadow in the dark. He wants to tell him, that he doesn't need his assistance, this display of loyalty, of protection. He doesn't need it. It's unnecessary. Albus made his comment, to make him back down from the evacuation, which Severus wouldn't, so it doesn't matter.
Albus smiles, and it's condescension wrapped in a gesture. Black takes a step towards him.
"I would, if it was possible." He says, unfazed by Black's rage.
"Since you can't," Black emphasizes his words, "shut your mouth."
"Hey," Lupin puts a hand around Black's arm, he tries to turn him around, in an attempt to face him, "there are no enemies here."
Black turns to him, focused and mad.
"I'm sure our emotions are heightened in these dire times." Albus says with all the wisdom a person like him carries.
It's the wrong thing to say. Black takes two hard steps, his boots echoing on the wooden floor in the temporary stillness that has settled over the room, as if every breath is being held. He will try to hurt him, here, in this room full of people that think Albus's hung the moon on the sky.
"Enough." Severus tells him. Black shoots him a glance. It's overwhelming, the intensity, the anger. Severus frowns at him. A moment and he turns his gaze away.
Severus closes his eyes, inhales, controlling a situation that's already out of control.
"If the school is breached, if battle comes to it, the students will be forced to fight." Severus says in the next exhale. "Underage children will be fighting Death Eaters and Werewolves and Dementors. Is that a risk you're willing to take?" He looks at everyone in the room.
The murmurs start, quiet conversations, thoughts of a dreadful outcome.
"If it comes to that," Albus starts.
"I want to talk to you in private," Severus tells him before he captures their attention again.
Albus nods, a hand on Molly's shoulder, a request to use the room Arthur uses for his inventions.
Molly agrees, a quick glance at Severus and away, fear etched on her features. He isn't sure if it's because of what he said, for him, or for the children she gave birth to, for the ones unknown.
Albus starts walking, and Severus turns to follow. Perhaps it would be better if they are alone, if Black doesn't come. It's a matter that should be handled delicately, and he is in no state for that. Perhaps staying here with Lupin will calm him down. A glimpse of the freedom they are fighting for.
Severus turns; Lupin is already talking, but Black's eyes are fixed on him. Angry, sharp, like an accusation of abandonment.
Severus makes a gesture, a small movement of his palm toward the exit-an unspoken are you coming.
They have started this together. They should ended it as such.
_____
Black stands against the wall beside the closed door, arms crossed, ready for another fight. Albus is looking at Arthur's half-finished inventions scattered all around the room. Once a study, perhaps, when Molly and Arthur had only one or two children and could afford to waste space like that.
"Peculiar objects," Albus says, "it's fascinating how magic is entangled with Muggle technology."
Severus sighs, his patience for roundabout conversation wearing thin.
"Fascinating," Severus repeats flatly, unimpressed. "The school..."
"It makes one wonder if, in the end, we are the ones drawing the lines that separate us-when, together, we could achieve greatness." Albus finishes his thoughts. Severus puts his palm on the old desk, scratched, its quality faded away.
"Tell me that you at least understand." Severus says.
"I do." Albus responds.
"Finally." Severus scoffs.
"Sometimes, it's better to work on hope. Dreadful reality cuts off the imagination, what could have been." Albus tells him.
"Hope." Severus says. "Not facts, not preparedness for what is sure to come. You want to work on hope."
"Hope is the one thing that keeps people fighting, Severus. Without it, all we have is inevitability." Albus says. "You told them, that not only they experienced a huge loss, personally and strategically, but that everything will be worse from now on."
"Because they will be." Severus says.
"And they know that." Albus tells him. "They fight just like you, they lose and they bleed just like you."
Severus takes a breath. He looks at the ceiling. Another lecture is coming.
"You always separate yourself, separation isn't strength, it is a weakness," Albus starts, "I tried to teach you that. Looking for what unites us, not what makes us different."
"Oh, please." Severus tells him. "Spare me the caring professor act. We're long past that. Save it for the Order meetings. It's necessary there, but I prefer blunt honesty."
"Okay." Albus says. "You're asking me to send away children, while I can keep them safe in a building made to protect them."
"I'm asking you not to trap them between a battle that isn't theirs to fight."
"The war is everyone's fight, dear Severus. You know that better than anyone. You don't want
sugar-coating the truth." Albus throws his words back at him. "Hogwarts is a last stand. A safe place."
How untrue that is.
"There are passages in and out of the castle." Black speaks, raised eyebrows in mockery, as if to say, I'm here too. "The ones we took to get out. The ones we took to follow Remus to the shack. Do you think he will care about the most haunted building in Britain?"
He leaves the wall, one step.
"Also, at least a dozen of students in there are potential Death Eaters. My brother took the Mark as soon as he left. Some of them might have taken it already. Little enemies inside your haven."
"I'm glad to see you two finally agreeing on something." Albus smiles. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take."
Black looks at Severus. A glance, a question. A tap on his finger as he lights a cigarette.
Severus sighs.
"The Dark Lord is invincible." He says.
"I didn't think you were the kind to.." Albus starts.
"Are you familiar with the concept of Horcruxes?" Severus asks, though he is certain Albus already knows.
Albus grows serious-not panicked, not yet. Perhaps not ever.
"We have confirmed that he made at least three. We aren't sure of the exact amount." Severus taps a finger on the desk.
"How did you obtain this information?" Albus asks, while he's processing the enormity of the revelation.
"It doesn't matter." Severus answers. Albus stares at him in the eyes. He will not learn, at least not now, not yet, about Regulus Black. He can try by whatever means he wants, but the outcome will remain the same.
"Are you sure?" He asks, still uncertain because it's something someone discovered.
Severus nods. Once.
"So you've been searching all this time. I understood it was something important, the first time you came into my office. Was it the same person that told you about the Taboo?" Albus says, searches for valuable allies, for an expansion of soldiers to be thrown into the war.
Potential spies that could work for Order.
Severus won't give them to him. If they prove useful, he will be the one to judge.
"Who is Tom Riddle?" Severus asks and it's the first time that Albus expression transforms. Surprise, suspicion, curiosity, childlike eyes hidden behind lines of many years.
Severus isn't sure if the reaction is for the name itself, or because he is the one who says it.
"You know who he is." Severus tells him. He needs confirmation; anything else would be an additional advantage.
"You know who he is too." Albus says. "He had a name before he became the man that you met. A boy that I found in an orphanage and I took him to school so he can learn about magic."
Albus looks at him.
"Is there anyone else that knows about this?"
"No." Severus says, and Albus looks at him as if he knows it's a lie.
"It would be preferable if it stayed hidden. It will only cause chaos." Albus says. Severus agrees.
"Are the items secured?" He asks. "Perhaps..."
"We got that covered." Black stops the suggestion before it's formed.
"I see." He says. Then firmer, "this is where our efforts should focus. This is of utter importance." He is thinking about it. He operates similar to Severus himself, talking about something and thinking of another thing entirely.
"Our efforts," Black points between himself and Severus, "are already focused on it."
"Yes, of course, dear Sirius." He says gently. "I hope our little disagreement from before is settled now."
"Of course." Black says, and he means anything but.
"We need access to the library." Severus tells him. "We have a theory that he chooses important artifacts to work as vessels."
Albus smiles, a bitter one. A moment and it's gone.
"Tom always viewed himself above the rest." A stern expression. He sees Voldermort's rising as a personal failure. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he treated him the same way he treated Severus when he was a student.
Albus turns to leave. He has something in mind, something he will not share, yet Severus won't blame him, he withholds just enough himself. Maybe if he had agreed to the evacuation, perhaps then Severus would tell him more.
"Send the students home, Albus. Ensure their safety. Play your role as their unshakeable leader, and I will play mine."
"Hogwarts will be there for anyone that needs it. As it always has been. The school will remain open." Albus tells him. Yet, he is thinking about Voldemort's immortality, that is the issue, that is the obstacle they must overcome. Children will die, if he keeps on living. If he wins. "We will be in touch." He says as he opens the door and walks to a place only he knows.
They are alone again. Him and Black. Neither of them talk.
Black looks at the floor, at the ash falling from his cigarette. It litters an already dusty floor. Perhaps Molly hasn't had access to this room, perhaps Arthur hasn't come to it either for a long time.
"We'll go to Hogwarts next-to follow the lead of the diary." Severus says.
"Great." Black answers, sharp tone, sharper that it needs to, a glance at the desk, where Severus' hand rests, the sound his fingers make, before he walks out to join the end of the Order meeting a room away.