So It Goes On

Chapter 1: May 1998

Aftermath

Takes place directly after the Battle of Hogwarts.

May 1998

A.N. For the sake of my own sanity, if no one else's, I've decided to let Fred live as well as Lupin and Tonks; there's only so much disappointment we can take after all. This first chapter is just to explain the AU I'm setting up, so, date wise, it takes place over the whole month of May.

Standing on the stone bridge in the ruins of the battle, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione in time to see them give him two identical, exhausted smiles.

"There's one other thing I need to," he told them.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"...The Shrieking Shack...I've got to go back."

"What for?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Snape," Harry answered solemnly, "I can't just...leave him there," he said.

"Why not?" the red head scoffed.

"...It's complicated," he sighed, "But...trust me..."

"Harry," Hermione began, "I know...no one deserved to die like that...but he was a Death Eater...he's..."

"No, he wasn't!" Harry cried. "If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't believe it either, but he really wasn't. He was a spy just like Dumbledore always said he was. He gave me his memories...I saw it all. He...risked his life for me everyday...and I never knew."

"Are you for real?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Yeah," his friend nodded, in a similar tone. "I'll show you the memories...as soon as we get him back," he said.

"Alright," Hermione nodded and together, they walked slowly to the Shrieking Shack with Harry telling them exactly what he'd seen in the Pensive.

At the same time, Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts, walked the halls of the ruined castle, surveying the damage as people did their best to care for the wounded. She watched with a shake of her head, as Argus Filtch, stubbornly kept trying to sweep away the piles of rubble, many of which were were twice his height. He would never ask anyone for help, she knew, especially not when they would need to use magic to.

Not many knew it, save for those to have been the head of the school, or perhaps those who had read 'Hogwarts; A History,' but the building was alive. It had been imbued with the magic of each person to walk it's halls and it had taken on a life of its own, so to speak. She knew that once Snape had fled from the school and she had more or less pointed herself as headmistress, that she would be able to communicate, so to speak, with the castle. However, she had been surprised to learn that it hadn't happened straight away and then it hadn't lasted long either. Minerva had heard the castle's whispered for a short space of time and then it had all vanished like smoke. She couldn't understand it and so she went in search of one man who would.

"I don't understand it, Albus," she said to the portrait in her office, "You yourself said that the castle talked to you."

"It did," Albus Dumbledore's painted visage replied calmly.

"For how long?"

"Since I became headmaster...until the moment that I died."

"It didn't...just stop?"

"Never."

"Then why can't I hear it?"

"This upsets you?"

"It confuses me. I haven't had the chance to question it before now but...I know it's hardly the most pressing issue to be dealt with considering the circumstances..."

"It's not normal though," one of the other portraits replied, "The voice...its presence...it should be there in your mind."

"There must be a reason," Armando Dippet remarked.

"Oh, there's a reason," Dumbledore said, "There must be."

"And? What is it?" Phineas Black demanded.

"I couldn't say," he answered, "Not yet. Perhaps it has something to do with damage to the castle."

Professor McGonagall only sighed as the portraits began to be debate, rather loudly, amongst themselves and they seemed to forget that she was even there.

The Shrieking Shack, no matter whether it was morning or noon or even a bright night, always seemed to be a place which detested light. It was a loathsome place of creaking floorboards, of dust and grime and mould and now, for the time being, it was also the resting place of Severus Snape.

"He loved my mum, y'know," Harry stated, "He did all this...everything...because he still loved her...after all this time."

"Dumbledore always said...that love's the most powerful emotion," she replied sadly.

"He was right," he said, "He was right," Harry muttered as they came into the room.

It was as they'd left it but to Harry, at least, so much had changed. The blood that covered the floorboards wasn't that of a vicious Death Eater, it was the blood of an extremely brave man who had loved a woman to such an extent that it had changed the very fabric of his being.

"I still can't believe it," Ron whispered, "Snape was good...all this time."

"I've got to tell them...everyone...about Snape, about what he did...or else he'll just be remembered as another Death Eater...as the man who...killed Dumbledore. He doesn't deserve that."

"No...he doesn't," Hermione agreed.

Harry took a deep, shaky breath before turning his attention, reluctantly, back to Snape and a trail of tears began to trickle down from his eyes. He'd thought that there wasn't much left he could lose in the war, he'd already lost his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore and so many others and now he'd lost a protector that he'd never even known he had. Snape had been the bravest of them all to do what he'd done for so long and he'd never received any thanks or praise. It was no wonder the Potions Master had been so irate and solitary when he'd been living the life of a double agent with his life hanging by a thread.

"Well...erm...how're we gonna..." Ron said, taking a breath, "I mean, who's...who's going to..."

"...I'll do it," Harry announced, taking out his wand slowly moving to kneel beside Snape so that he could apparate back to the castle; the anti apparating wards having been destroyed in the battle.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione exclaimed quickly, pushing her friend's arm back quickly.

"What?!"

"He just...professor Snape...I thought he just...I thought I saw him..."

"Hermione, the man had his throat cut and he was bit by a snake, you don't just...ah, I mean..." Ron said, but stopped when she, diplomatically, chose to elbow the red head in the stomach.

At the same time, Harry examined the pale and bloodied face of the Potions Master and indeed, he saw a weak, shallow movement in the severed throat. A quiet, almost inaudible noise, like air through a blocked straw, escaped from between dry lips and Harry let out a disbelieving scoff.

"He is..." he breathed, "He's alive...look, he's breathing!" he took hold of Snape's bloodied arm.

"Don't apparate!" Hermione cried quickly.

"Why? I need to get him back to the castle...the hospital wing...Madam Pomfrey..."

"Apparating takes a toll on the body, Harry, and...well...look at him...I don't think he'll survive if you apparate him anywhere."

"Well, by the time I've levitated him all the way back he could die anyway!" he replied hastily. "I don't have a choice," he said, gently placing his hand on the man's shoulder and disaparating without another word.

Harry brought them straight to the hospital wing and he was instantly followed by his friends. He looked quickly for the matron but amidst the sea of people running about the room, it was all but impossible. There had been so many casualties that the hospital wing was overrun and every room, regardless of its state was being used to either hold the dead or to treated the wounded. The hospital staff were clearly overtaxed and anyone who had even a basic knowledge of healing was being put to use.

One person that his eyes alighted on and how spotted him in turn, was professor McGonagall and she ran over to them at once, her robes billowing behind her.

"Potter!" she exclaimed in shock on seeing just who her student had arrived with, "What on earth..."

"Please, professor...it's Snape...he he needs help..."

"Now wait just a minute..."

"We don't have a minute!"

"I..."

"He's dying...please, I'll explain, just...help him..."

She threw her hands in the air, acquiescing with a sigh as she took out her wand and levitated the dark haired man as Harry ran ahead to search for the matron.

"Minerva!" the matron herself frowned when she and Harry finally found her.

"I've been promised an explanation, Poppy, in the meantime, please...do what you can for him."

"I..."

"Please," Harry begged her and seemingly, her reluctance was swayed enough to do so.

Hours passed and after many strong spells and potions, Harry watched as the movements of Madam Pomfrey which had at the start been rapid and quick, became sluggish and weak. Snape hadn't woken once and Harry supposed that was a good thing.

Finally, he turned to professor McGonagall, who hadn't left Harry's side in the last half hour.

"The Pensive in your office, I left it out...I saw Snape's memories in it, there'll still be there, won't they?" he asked.

"I...don't see why not, but I..."

"Watch them," he said, "Just...watch them...and you'll understand," he told her and she nodded, turning to leave without a word.

When she returned, it was with stray tears running down her aged face. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled slightly in understanding at him. "I expect," she began slowly, "Once the Ministry discovers that Severus lives...they'll want to arrest him. I'll see that it doesn't happen."

"Thanks, professor."

Remus Lupin sat beside the love of his life, Nymphadora Tonks and held his infant son in his arms. They, like many before them had tried and failed to coax Harry out of the hospital wing. It seemed that everyone, in such a short amount of time, was now fully aware of what Severus Snape had done. Secrets in Hogwarts never did stay secret for long. Harry didn't particularly care in this instance though. The more people that knew the better, in his opinion.

"Harry, we'll send for you if Severus wakes," he said.

"And we won't let anyone take him away," Tonks added.

"I can't just leave," Harry shook his head.

"Madam Pomfrey doesn't even know if he'll wake up, and if he does I doubt it's going to be any time soon," the purple haired woman told him, ignoring the reproachful glare from Remus. "And...I really think you need a bath, and a change of clothes and a..."

"I get it," Harry sighed, "But I'm still not leaving."

Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared to be in charge of rounding up the defeated Death Eaters and his job was almost complete. He and a group of Aurors hovered at the entrance to the hospital Wing as they prepared to arrest the last remaining within.

"Hello, Harry," the tall man said slowly.

"Shacklebolt," Harry inclined his head, sitting up slightly.

"You know why we're here?" he asked and Harry nodded, "Then please, don't make this..."

"I guess people've already told you about what he did...and why."

"Somewhat, but that doesn't change the fact that Severus was a Death Eater. It doesn't excuse any of his crimes. He needs to answer for them..."

"He has already! He almost died, he could still die!"

"Kingsley," Minerva spoke calmly, entering the room. "I don't believe you've seen the evidence exonerating our headmaster," she said.

"I'm sorry...the headmaster?" the man frowned.

"Come with me," she said, leading him away.

"Albus," Kingsley stared up at the portrait of the former headmaster.

"Hello, Kingsley, my dear friend," the old man smiled.

"It's good to see you," Kingsley said, "But I will be needing an explanation."

"Of course, down to business. I always did admire that about you...and Severus," Dumbledore smiled. "Where should I start?" he asked.

When they returned some minutes later, the older man waved a hand at the attentive Aurors who exchanged confused glances but slowly, they moved away.

"If Headmaster Snape wakes up, you'll let me know?" he raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"Why?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter, I will keep my word. If he lives, he will be a free man...if he lives," he emphasise before he left the hospital ward.

A few days later and the worst of the damage to the castle was slowly being repaired and Harry had either wandered the halls, helping to fix what he could, or he'd sat in the hospital wing, unwilling to leave the Potions Master alone for fear that those around him would finish him off in his sleep. It wouldn't be their fault if they did, they didn't know what he did. Poppy Pomfrey had told him more than once a day, that Snape was unlikely to awake, indeed, the man had stopped breathing several times.

He'd been told that Kinglsley Shacklebolt had been appointed acting Minister for Magic, and that there was to be a large funeral in the castle grounds in memory of those who had died in the battle. THere would be a ceremony to commemorate the dead and then they'd be returned to their families.

It was a sorrow filled, tragic day and not a single person could hold back their tears. Harry, who hadn't been forewarned, was asked to give a speech. He was reluctant at best, but he could hardly refuse.

"There's...one more thing I need to talk about," he said after he'd said all he could think of. "You're probably wondering why Professor Snape wasn't taken with the Death Eaters to Azkaban. You've probably already heard that he was a spy but he didn't betray us. He killed Dumbledore, yes, but...what you won't know is that Dumbledore was dying...he was cursed, he wouldn't have survived the year. He asked Snape to kill him so that Voldemort would trust him completely. I know...it's hard to believe, but trust me, it's all true. The last thing he deserves is Azkaban...so, please...whatever gets...reported or said, just don't believe any of it."

It wasn't long after the funeral that Harry and many other students and teachers were asked to testify at some of the many Death Eater trials which were clearly just a formality. Harry went intending only clearly Snape's name so that the threat of Azkaban wouldn't hang over him if, when he woke up. But somehow he ended up returning to Hogwarts with an Order of Merlin for himself and one for Snape as well. Both First Class. He left them both in the headmaster's office for another day.

As the days passed it became clear that people wanted, needed to leave to be with their families and Harry saw Hermione leave to find her parents in Australia to return their memories and he was in the hospital wing when an owl arrived to tell him of her success and of their subsequent holiday for his friend to recover from the battle. He was still in the castle when Ron, Ginny and the entire Weasly family left. They offered to take him with them, but he refused. Fred had been badly injured and George had lost an ear but at least they were alive and safe.

He saw Luna leave to spend time with her father, and Neville with his grandmother. Harry understood and he didn't begrudge any of them, telling them all when they left that that they were doing the right thing.

As Harry was sitting in the hospital wing, a book in his hand, he heard a familiar trilling sound and he looked up to see Fawkes standing on Snape's bed. The phoenix was crying over the man's wounds and though it began to heal some of the worst, Nagini's venom had been in his system for too long for the tears to heal it all in an instant. But Madam Pomfrey began to use the magical tears on Snape's wounds every day and he began to show a vast improvement.

"What are you doing here?" Harry had asked the bird, gently stroking the soft feathers. No one had seen the Phoenix since Dumbledore had died but here he was, helping the boy who lived keep vigil over Snape in the castle. "Well, I'm glad to see you," he smiled, "You probably saved his life."

The beautiful bird puffed out his chest almost proud of the fact that he had indeed saved the life of the Potions Master.

"Ah, Harry," he'd heard Dumbledore say from one of the portraits.

It was difficult for Harry to get used to hearing the man's voice as though he were still alive, he supposed it was because he'd been raised a muggle. Perhaps people who were raised with the idea of living portraits were more accustomed to them. "Professor," Harry turned around to see the familiar blue eyes, white beard and blue robes.

"I was wondering when Fawkes would return," the man said, "I was rather hoping that he would've arrived sooner...but no matter."

"Why did he come back?"

"Phoenixes value loyalty above all else, my boy," the former headmaster explained. "Severus was loyal to this school and to its people even at the cost of his reputation and his life. I'd be surprised indeed if such a remarkable creature as a Phoenix didn't recognise that."

"So...Fawkes is staying here again? He won't leave?" Harry asked, concerned that the animal would leave and there would be nothing as effective to help Snape get well.

"I don't believe he will," Albus smiled, looking down at the Phoenix which was preening Snape's hair gently with its beak.

Just under three weeks since the battle, Harry had still barely left his bedside vigil in the hospital wing and he was the first one to see Snape when he finally opened his eyes. To say that the man looked confused was an understatement. He squinted at the ceiling for a minute and felt the sheets of the bed with limp, pale hands. He was still breathing louder than expected but Madam Pomfrey had said that it was to be expected. The man's throat had been sliced open and polluted with venom and dark magic; Voldemort had been very through.

"Professor?" Harry spoke quietly, trying not to startle him, but he did anyway.

Snape's black eyes turned on him much quicker than he'd have expected given how weak the man looked and he seemed to examine Harry's face, tilting his head back and forth on the pillow before coming to a conclusion which made him sigh deeply. "Professor?" Harry repeated. "How do you feel? Oh...I should get Madam Pomfrey..." he began. "Wilpsy," he called out and a house elf appeared within an instant. It was wearing a fine looking robe with the Hogwarts symbol on it. "Find madam Pomfrey would you, and tell her professor Snape's awake?"

"Headmaster Potions sir is awake!" the little elf exclaimed happily. "I be fetching matron, Mister great Harry Potter sir, of course!" she said, vanishing again.

"...Pot..." Snape tried to speak but his voice was quiet, barely audible and he broke off in a fit of violent coughs which shook his body. He curled in on himself as he coughed, clutching at his throat.

"Professor," Harry grabbed a glass of water from the beside table and tried to help the man sit up but he was too busy trying to breathe to even think about sitting up.

"Severus," Poppy ran into the room and waved her wand at the ailing wizard. "Mr. Potter, sit him up quickly," she ordered.

"I can't," Harry struggled, still trying to help Snape sit up.

With Poppy's help, they managed to get the man sitting up and he was able to drink the water left out for him. It was hardly medicinal but it helped to soothe his aching throat and the coughing slowly stopped. He leant back, exhausted, against the pillows they'd propped up behind him and he closed his eyes.

"...How?" he asked simply, his voice so quiet and weak they barely heard it.

"How? How what, professor?" Harry asked.

"...H..." Snape went to asked but sighed wearily at his ailing throat and tried to raise a shaky hand to his neck but he couldn't even do that now. His limbs were too weak to move after his coughing fit.

"Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey began. "You really shouldn't speak yet. It's lucky you can even say one word, let alone a sentence," she said, clearly seeing his frustration. "And please, try not to move too much; that venom had you paralysed for over a week," she told him and in all honesty she was surprised he was awake at all. She left Harry with strict instructions not to let Snape move or speak too much.

"Well, sir," Harry began once she was gone. He first took out his wand a cast a quiet Muffliato around them. "You know, I can't imagine not using that spell...it's really useful," he said suddenly. "But I guess, you know that since you made it...I erm...found it in your potions book," he said, clutching the wand in his fingers.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and tried and failed to speak again. "Anyway," Harry pursed his lip, not sure where to start. He'd been sat at the man's bedside for a month thinking of just what to say if or when he woke and now here he was, cementing Snape's idea that he was an idiot by mumbling like this. "I erm...Voldemort's dead. I...killed him," he said, "Well...technically, the Elder Wand killed him when his spell backfired, but...yeah, he's gone."

"B...but ...you..." Snape managed to whisper though it clearly took considerable effort.

"I'm...not dead," Harry clarified rather unnecessarily, "I mean, I was...because I let him kill me so I wouldn't be a horcrux anymore but I...I came back."

Snape turned his head slightly on the pillow and found his wand on the small bedside table next to him. He seemed surprised to see it there at all. "Do you want me to pass you your wand, professor?" Harry asked him, "I'm not sure if you should do any magic yet. madam Pomfrey didn't say."

The pale man gestured weakly with his head and after a moment's deliberation, Harry reached for the simple black wand and placed it in Snape's hand. With a silent and weak flourish, a piece of parchment appeared with spidery writing on it and Harry took it.

It simply read 'Liar.'

"Liar?" Harry furrowed his brow. "I'm not lying. She really didn't say anything about you not using magic because none of us knew if...when you'd wake up," he said, defensively.

Snape pointed his wand at the paper again and more words appeared. It read 'You are not real. Potter is dead. I am dead.'

"I'm not dead, professor and neither are you," the young wizard told him.

'How?' The word suddenly appeared on the parchment.

"I erm...after it was all...over, I went back to the Shrieking Shack. I thought you were dead," he admitted, looking over at one of the windows. "But you weren't. So we brought you back here," he said choosing not to mention the fact that people had been frantic about Snape's condition for weeks.

Madam Pomfrey asked the best healers and potioneers from St Mungo's to help the man. He'd been too weak to be moved from the Hogwarts hospital wing and at one point here had been fifteen people there trying to rid Snape's body of the lethal venom it was been poisoned with. Even with the help of a seemingly endless supply of Phoenix tears, it and still taken this long for him just to wake up.

Harry held the parchment up again, watching as more words appeared. 'Why return to the Shrieking Shack at all?' It said.

"What'd you mean? I couldn't just leave you there?! Not after everything I saw in your..." Harry stopped, seeing the horrified look in Snape's eyes. "In your memories," he finished quietly, a moment later.

'What did you see?' Harry read the words that appeared after a tense silence.

"You don't...remember what memories you...gave me?" he asked.

'Difficult to concentrate with your throat cut,' was the rather sarcastic, written response and Harry couldn't help but give a small smile. It was so reminiscent of Snape's usual sarcasm that he simply couldn't help it.

"Well...I asked professor McGonagall to take them out of the pensive. They're in a bottle in her...in your office. I know you probably only meant for me to see one of them...but...there was more," he replied, thinking of the many memories that made him see the Potions Master so differently than he ever had before.

'The Dark Lord is gone?' Snape wrote, still shocked at the very idea.

"Voldemort is gone," Harry corrected, verbally.

'Do not say his name,' the pale man visibly shuddered as he spelled the words onto the page. 'How many dead?' he asked.

"On our side...fifty," Harry answered him sadly.

'The Death Eaters?'

"Most of them were caught and sent to Azkaban. Some of them died. But Rodolphus Lestrange, Macnair and Travers escaped. Shacklebolt's still looking for them. He's the acting Minister," Harry explained. *1

'Lestrange is dangerous,' Snape wrote, 'The other two are stupid. He is not.'

"Doesn't matter; I haven't been looking for them. I wanted to help but Kinglsley said it'd be best if I didn't."

'They will come after you,' more words appeared suddenly.

"I've been here since...since the battle. Three Death Eaters can't get through the wards...or, so I've been told."

'The wards were broken.'

"Professor McGonagall and the others fixed them. But they said you'll need to cast the spells again when you can because you're the headmaster," Harry told him quickly.

'What?' Snape wrote. The stoic mask he'd been working on for the last few minutes was shattered again and now he looked both vulnerable and surprised.

"Erm...you're the headmaster..." Harry repeated, slowly. "I told the Ministry that you were innocent so they wouldn't take you to Azkaban...but they can't really sack you, either."

"Y...you...told..." Snape hissed but gave up once he realised that no matter how hard he tried, he just could speak yet.

Both of them were startled when they looked across at the open door to see Minerva McGonagall walking towards them.

She didn't think of herself as an emotional woman but she didn't try and stop the tears from falling down her aged face as she quietly approached Snape's bedside. "Severus," she said, "I was worried you'd never wake up."

Snape only stared at her with dark eyes as though willing her to disappear. He'd never wanted people to know everything. He was supposed to be dead and yet here he was, surprisingly alive, having a civilised conversation with Potter and being hovered over by a crying Deputy Head. What was the matter with them? Had they simply forgotten everything he'd done over the last year?

'Send me to Azkaban,' Snape tapped his wand against the paper again and Harry looked horrified. McGonagall glanced down at it and she gave the same expression.

"Send you to Azkaban, Severus?!" she exclaimed, "We'd be laughed out of the castle." He furrowed his brow, not understanding her at all. "No. You're not going to Azkaban," she reiterated. "I'll not hear...or read...another word about it and neither will Potter, not after what he did to keep you out of that dreadful place," she sighed, conjuring a chair for herself. "Can you ever forgive me?" she asked him, seriously. "I can't have made your life easy this last year. If I'd known everything I'd never have..."

'You weren't supposed to know,' Snape wrote, 'That would've ruined it all.'

"Yes. Yours and Albus' precious plan," she sighed, "Genius though it was, it feels as though you bore the brunt of it all. I know we haven't always been the best of friends, Severus, but I...I am truly sorry," she finished and Snape looked away.

Aside from being very confused and weak he simply wasn't accustomed to hearing genuine apologies. He was usually the one having to apologise. "Well, we'll let you rest," Minerva said after a moment. She stood and Harry did the same after a simple wordless gesture from her.

*1 I realise I may be taking liberties here but I did a quick check and I don't think any of the three Death Eaters I mentioned are actually killed in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Chapter 2: 31st May 1998

A Reluctant Headmaster

31st May 1998

Severus Snape spent much of his time in his bed in the hospital wing sleeping, even after first waking up. The potions he'd been forced to take were effective in not only healing him, but in completely knocking him out. When he was actually awake he argued with Poppy about returning to his quarters in the dungeons only to be told that Slughorn was sleeping in them. Horace was still the Potions professor after all despite being told by the deputy head; McGonagall that he could leave if he wanted to. They could find another teacher but he was adamant about staying to help rebuild the castle. Snape didn't understand why.

"You are our headmaster, Severus," Minerva told him as she sat at his bedside that morning, "You do not belong in the dungeons," he'd only scoffed at that.

"I...am no...headmaster," he muttered back slowly. His voice was not returning as quickly as he liked but it was better than being unable to speak at all.

"Nonsense," she shook her head. "I've been talking to Albus about this and we both agree that Hogwarts doesn't recognise me as being headmistress."

"Then...I resign..."

"At least think about this," she sighed.

"No...n...need."

"I won't force you to stay, Severus, and Merlin knows, you've earned the right to do as you please now. But think about this carefully. Take some time. And rest, you need rest..."

"No more...rest..." he hissed back, glaring at her even though she seemed unaffected.

"You always were a terrible patient," McGonagall smiled.

The Deputy Head of Hogwarts had been apoplectic with apologies when he'd first woken up. She'd cried as she'd told him how sorry she was at calling him a coward as he'd fled. At the time, she'd never thought it strange at all that he, being more powerful than she was, had fled from a fight he could have easily won. No one had. They'd been far too busy and no doubt, he been counting on that. They'd heard later that Snape had been severely punished for fleeing the school. His orders had been to kill anyone who opposed him and instead he'd surrendered.

"I'm a...death...e...eater," he replied, "I can't be...Headmaster," he said.

"Hogwarts disagrees...doesn't it?" she asked him. "You can hear it, can't you? Albus said that the castle spoke to him. It only spoke to me when you were...not in a capacity to hear it," she said, diplomatically telling him it was only when he was dead that she was headmistress.

Snape pursed his lip. Even now, Hogwarts was telling him that the structural repairs on the roof of the great hall, which had been classed as a priority, were almost complete and that the work on the courtyard hadn't even started yet. "If I...resign...it will...stop," he said, reaching out a pale and scared hand for the goblet of water on the bedside table. "No parent," he began after drinking the water to help his throat, "Will want...a Death Eater...in charge of this school."

"Severus," Minverva began slowly, as though addressing a student. "You've been pardoned. The entire wizarding world knows what you did. You have an Order of Merlin...and rumour has it you'll have a biography soon."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed, alarmed, sitting up right and then coughing because he'd aggravated his throat.

"Potter tells me that people are very interested in you. So interested, in fact, that someone, I don't know who, is working on your biography," she smiled at him.

"Well, stop them!"

"How can I? No one knows who it is. It's just a rumour," she told him. "But that's beside the point. I came to tell you about the repairs."

"The roof is...repaired," he rolled his eyes, "The courtyard is not."

"Correct," Minerva nodded, happily. "It'll be some time before everything is finished. We'll need a new professor for Defence of course, and a Muggle Studies teacher but..."

"You...do it," Severus sighed, thinking of Charity Burbage.

"I can make suggestions, headmaster. But the decision will be yours."

"Fine," he snapped.

"There was one more thing. It's far too early to be thinking seriously about it, but...some of the seventh years have enquired about returning for another year."

"They know you...want me to be Headmaster?"

"Of course."

"And they still want to...come back?"

"Yes."

"...Why?"

"They understand why you acted as you did and I had to stop most of them from coming in here and thanking you personally. I was rather worried you'd hex them, you see," she said, sarcastically. The majority of the students at least now had a grudging respect for Snape but of course some would simply never forgive him and he understood that.

"Thanking me?" Snape scoffed in disbelief. "I...made their lives...miserable. I threatened them...repeatedly. I don't...believe you."

"Then believe Hogwarts," Albus said, suddenly appearing in one of the paintings on the walls. "It would tell you if the students were discontent. It did so for the entirety of the last year, didn't it? I remember it causing you many a sleepless night, my boy."

"I had...more important things to worry about...than the students 'feelings'," Snape rolled his eyes.

"Yes...you did. But that didn't stop you from adding one more concern, did it?" the old man said heavily.

Severus still hadn't been told, but the staff had been furious with Dumbledore once they'd learned of his plan. True, Snape had never been anyone's best friend, but as much as it pained people to admit it, he'd been steadfast for years. He had the temperament of an irritable dragon but he was one of them. He was a Hogwarts teacher. And he'd spent an entire year purposely making himself the most hated person in the school. He'd had their grudging respect before but they doubted they could have done what he had.

"Albus, you're not helping," Minerva replied and watched the former headmaster leave the painting and disappear. She turned back to Severus with a smile. "Perhaps you'll appreciate something to read," she remarked, gently placing a small stack of papers onto the bed. "Now that you're awake, these need your signature. They're reports for the Ministry about the repairs."

"...Homework, Minerva? Really?" Snape scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, headmaster," she replied, standing up. "I'll leave you to it. I know how much you enjoy paperwork," she said, ignoring the hiss of disapproval from him.

Chapter 3: 2nd June 1998

Escape

2nd June 1998

Harry walked into the hospital wing to find Snape trying to get out of bed. He'd managed to somehow pull his billowing black robe round him as well. His hospital bed was buried beneath a pile of blankets; since he'd woken up he'd been feeling the cold more so than he ever had before. He just couldn't seem to get warm lately.

"Go...away, Potter," Snape hissed at him, the threat somewhat diminished by the fact that his voice was still so weak and he looked so pathetic leaning against the bed with his robes pulled against his bandaged torso.

"Morning, professor," Harry said, unaffected by the dark glare that was sent his way.

Fawkes was resting on a perch that someone, probably Minerva had placed there for him. Poppy hadn't been best pleased at having an animal in the hospital wing but she'd related after a while. "Madam Pomfrey might throw a fit if she sees you moving around," he stated.

Snape's torso was swathed in bandages as well as his arms and his neck and he began, very carefully, to peel away the ones on his right arm underneath the thick, warm fabric of his outer robe. He was tired of feeling and looking like a mummy. "Erm...should you be doing that?" Harry asked.

"I...told you to go...away..." he reiterated but Harry was used to hearing those words now.

The young wizard had been rather disappointed by the fact that the first civil conversation he'd had with Snape just so happened to be the last. Every other time he'd visited since then, the man had been his usual acerbic and vitriolic self. But he didn't complain. He hated been stuck in the hospital too and he doubted that Snape liked looking vulnerable in front of so many people for so long. So, every day, he visited Snape and was perfectly polite and courteous and it seemed to wear the older wizard down, bit by bit.

"At least let me help you," Harry offered.

Snape flinched when Harry moved forwards to hold his arm so he could remove the bandage and Harry winced. "I won't hurt you, I promise," he said but the man only scoffed at him as though daring him to do the opposite. "I know you don't believe me," Harry began as he started to slowly wind the bandage off. "But I'm really grateful for everything you did. And I'm glad you're alive," he said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"...Should've let me...die," Snape muttered at him, "Stupid...boy."

"Don't say that, sir," Harry looked at him, hurt that he'd even suggest it. "...My mum wouldn't have wanted you to die," he said after a moment and he saw Snape close his eyes with a shaky breath.

He finished taking off the bandage around Snape's right forearm and be placed it on the bedside table. Luckily the worst of the puncture marks had been healed by Fawkes' tears but there were still some nasty looking scratches left. At least they'd scabbed over and weren't bleeding anymore though.

"...Emotional...blackmail," Snape stated, slowly.

"No, it's the truth," Harry insisted.

"You...should hate...me."

"I don't."

"...She...would."

"No, she wouldn't," Harry shook his head. "Do you want me to do that one?" he asked, pointing at the man's left forearm but Snape shook his head. "Why not?" Harry wondered, aloud, watching as Snape wrapped his fingers around the still bandaged left forearm. The bandage covered the Dark Mark, he knew. "Is it...because of the mark?" he asked, slowly, "It's still there?"

"Of...course it is," Snape growled, his fingers tightening around his forearm.

"Oh, I guess I just thought, I'm not sure, maybe with Voldemort gone..."

"Don't...say his name," the older wizard hissed.

"Well, have you looked? It might be gone," Harry suggested.

"...It...won't be," Snape stated, resignedly as he held out his arm a little.

Harry once again took off the bandage as carefully as he could only to find that Snape was right. The Dark Mark was still there amongst the puncture marks and scratches, it hadn't even faded, in fact it was exceptionally prominent against the pale skin. "Put it...back," Snape ordered him, after glancing at the Mark.

"But if you don't need it..."

"Just...do it," the man sighed and Harry complied.

"What on earth are you doing?!" madam Pomfrey cried, running over to them.

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes at her and started to remove the bandage on his left hand now. Harry wondered if he was doing that just to spite her. "Severus, I left those bandages there for a reason..." she said, stopping beside the bed.

"Poppy," he growled back.

She gave him the same look he'd been giving her and after a moment she threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine. Fine," she muttered, shaking her head, "Never mind all of the work that went into stopping the bleeding, just take off the bandages because you're impatient, why don't you?"

"Another...thing," Snape began, " I will not...stay here a...minute longer. I'm moving...to my quarters," he said. At least he could light a fire there and keep warm.

"And how are you going to do that?" Poppy asked him, "I doubt you could walk to that door over there, let alone all the way up to your office."

"I'll...m...manage," he rasped.

"I don't know who's worse," the matron muttered, "Between the two of you."

"I'll help him," Harry said quickly, "I'll help him there."

"You still need rest, headmaster," Poppy said to Snape. "I know you like being in the hospital wing about as much as Mr. Potter here, but I don't think you understand just how bad it was. You're lucky to be alive, let alone awake to argue with me."

"Well...he can rest upstairs, can't he?" Harry asked, kindly.

"I suppose so," she sighed, deeply, "But whatever you do, leave the bandage around your neck. I'll be checking on you every day as well."

"Can't...wait," Severus replied and the long suffering matron, stormed out.

"Are you sure you want to leave the hospital wing?" Harry asked him.

"You...can go...now," Snape said, simply

"I said I'd help you and I will. I don't blame you for wanting to leave. I always do, too," he admitted, watching Snape push himself away from the bed to stand up for the first time in over a month. Naturally he was unsteady on his feet. "I erm...I could ask Hagrid to carry you," he suggested, already knowing the answer would be a dark glare. He wasn't disappointed. "Just a thought," Harry shrugged. "Can't you just apparate to your office? You are the headmaster," he remarked.

Snape shook his head, "Not...advisable," he muttered. He'd been sleeping for the better part of a month and he was still exhausted. Apparating when exhausted and wounded was only done in a life or death situation and since this wasn't one of these time, Snape wouldn't risk it. He couldn't fly either because the spell needed concentration and a lot of energy, neither of which he had yet.

"What about a house elf? Can't they apparate you there?" Harry replied as Snape steadied himself with a hand on the bedside table.

"I will...walk," the man insisted.

"...Alright then," Harry sighed and with his Gryffindor courage, he gently pulled one of Snape's arms over his shoulders, ignored the dark glares as he took slow steps forwards. Fawkes circled them just as slowly as they moved through the castle with Snape hardly looking up from the floor at all.

"Where are...you going?" Snape asked him. In his mind he was heading straight for the dungeons despite the fact that McGonagall and Poppy kept calling him headmaster.

"Your office, sir," Harry frowned, confused.

"The...dungeons?" the man questioned.

"No...the headmaster's office," Harry answered, "Your office. I...we can go to the dungeons if you want, I'm sure professor Slughorn would love some company. Some of the potions ingredients were damaged when the wards broke, I think some of the glass exploded or something, so he's been saving what he can...though he's probably finished by now..." he rambled.

"No..." Snape rasped, "Head...master's office...then," he said and Harry nodded.

Harry purposely avoided the main corridors, knowing Snape wouldn't want people to see him aided like this. When Harry saw or heard people approaching them, Snape purposely lead them somewhere they wouldn't be be seen and he quickly took the hint.

The younger wizard had to admire his stubbornness, even when his breathing was making small wheezing and rasping noises, he didn't stop even for a moment to sit down despite Harry's suggestions.

It took a while but Snape let out a tired sigh when he was finally able to sit down by the fireplace in the bedroom in the headmaster's quarters. Here, Harry wasn't the only one who felt out of place, Severus did too. To him, these were Albus' personal quarters, not his. He'd been using them for a year but that was all he had planned for. He'd never made any changes to the rooms, they were exactly as Dumbledore had left them so that didn't help matters.

Well, he had made one addition to the rooms. He'd added a large, black trunk which was locked magically. It was reminiscent of the trunk Barty Crouch Jr had kept in his quarters during his impersonation of Alastor Moody. It was a fairly large piece of furniture, inlaid with silver and was embossed with snakes. Usually Snape wouldn't have kept something so ornate and odious but it had been given to him by Voldemort himself. The power mad Dark Wizard had gifted them to his most loyal and trusted followers in which to keep their robes and masks. If anyone but the Dark Lord or the owner of the mask tried to open the chest, with or without magic, they would be killed in a most painful way. Which was why Severus had set up a complicated series of wards around it and cast a very powerful Disillusionment charm on it. Only he could see it. He would have disposed of it years ago, but he'd been conceded somehow that the Dark Lord would have somehow known and have used the knowledge to uncover his true loyalties.

The rest of this things he'd either left down in the dungeons for Slughorn to as as he pleased with or he'd simply boxed them up and sent them to his miserable house in Spinner's End.

"Will you...be alright now, sir?" Harry asked him as the previous headmaster's watched on from the portraits. On seeing Harry enter with Snape, they'd followed the two wizards through the main office and into the private quarters via the paintings on the walls.

Snape nodded and Harry pursed his lip. "I erm...I left your Order of Merlin on your desk," the young wizard said. "And I...I think professor McGonagall kept all your letters for you. She had the Auror office go through them in case, well, just in case."

"...Letters?" Snape questioned.

"Yes, didn't she tell you?" Harry asked and he coughed lightly when Snape raised an eyebrow at him, "Right, well, erm...a lot of letters arrived for you...but not just from the Ministry."

"About the...school?"

"Not exactly...sir."

"Then...what?"

"Well...I guess it's all...erm...fan mail," Harry muttered quietly, silently thanking McGonagall for leaving this task to him.

From their portraits, several of the former headmaster's began to chuckle quietly to themselves. They'd been witnesses to the torrent of owls that had arrived brining letters for Severus Snape. "I got some too, so did Ron and Hermione," Harry added, "We didn't bother opening them, doesn't really seem right, does it? We didn't do...all that...for the attention."

Rather than make a snide remark about how Harry was more likely to thrive on the attention, Snape simply breathed out a sigh through his nose and lit the fire with an almost imperceptible wave of his hand. A weak spark ignited in the grate and slowly burned a little brighter by the second. "...Burn...them," Snape instructed after a moment.

"Burn your letters?" Harry furrowed his brow and Snape stared at him, his expression clearly disinterested now. "Alright, okay, I'll...I'll burn them," he shrugged. His response seemed to placate the older wizard and he turned his attention back to the fire. Evidently it was more interesting than Harry.

Chapter 4: 31st July 1998

Harry's Birthday

31st July 1998

Harry's eighteenth birthday was spent surrounded by his friends in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a feast large enough to feed an army and suffice to say, that as the day wore on, everyone ate far too much if only to placate the formidable Weasley matriarch.

The small sitting room around the fireplace was not nearly large enough for the everyone sitting there, but they made do. Harry was sat next to Ginny on the floor. Ron and Hermione had managed to commandeer a small chair. Remus, Tonks and their small son were close to the fire on a sofa opposite Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The twins were still trying to explain the purpose of one of their inventions to Fleur while her husband, Bill rolled his eyes at his brothers. Percy was sitting rather awkwardly to the side. Though his parents were thrilled that he'd come, his brothers and his sister, though they loved him, still thought he was 'a bit of a prat.' Hermione's parents appeared to get along exceptionally well with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley so she was relieved at that.

Even McGonagall had sent Harry a book he'd find useful if he still wanted to become an Auror.

As midnight approached, Hermione left with her parents, Luna and Neville left too and Teddy had been put to bed hours ago. He and his parents were sharing a small room in the Burrow's attic. Eventually, Harry was left alone with Ginny once everyone had left the room and he was absentmindedly picking at the remaining food, of which, there was a considerable amount.

"Haven't you eaten enough already?" Ginny asked him with a smirk. Her mother had been unwavering in her efforts to 'fatten' Harry up, claiming that he was far too thin, and he had lost some weight over the last year. It was rather nice to be fussed over for a while, so Harry had eaten as much as he could.

Suddenly, a quiet popping sound startled hem both as the clock struck midnight and Harry quickly drew his wand. But he needn't have been worried. Perched on an armrest next to him was Fawkes with a letter tied to his leg and a small, wooden box dangling from his beak on a string.

"Fawkes?" Harry whispered and the bird trilled gently at him dropping the box in Harry's hands. "What's this?" he asked, watching as the phoenix held out his leg for him to take the letter.

Ginny carefully removed the letter and handed it to him, "Thanks, Fawkes," she smiled at the bird and stroked the flame coloured feathers. "Another birthday present?" she asked Harry.

He set down the box and unfurled the small piece of parchment which had been sealed with the Hogwarts crest. "It's from Snape," he said, recognising the spidery black handwriting.

"Oh," she said.

'Potter,' it read, simply, 'Happy birthday.'

Confused, Harry gave it to Ginny, who was more surprised than confused as she read the simple message. He then untied the piece of string from around the box and what had once been an object small enough to fit in his the palm of his hand, grew to the size of a large shoe box. It was a small, simple chest made of dark wood with no markings or engravings on it whatsoever. There was a small piece of rusted metal on the front to lift the lid and it fell back as though the hinges had been much used.

Inside the box was a mishmash of papers, envelopes and photographs. Harry picked up the first photograph and he saw his mother there. She looked to be about ten years old, perhaps and she was standing next to another young girl.

"It's my mum," Harry stated, quietly. He turned the image over and saw the words 'Lily and Petunia, May, 1970.'

Ginny said nothing as Harry began to take things out, individually and examine each one with great care. Some were like the first one he'd seen, taken with muggle cameras and so they didn't move, but there were wizarding ones too.

One that caught his eye was of a smiling family gathered around a dining table. The people there moved. There was a middle aged man he'd never seen before with his arm proudly around a smiling woman. At the table he saw his mother, his aunt and a young Severus Snape. The unnamed woman there looked almost like the images he'd seen of his mother when she was older, so perhaps it was his maternal grandmother.

'Christmas, 1972,' it said on the bottom. He turned the photograph over and read the neat yet childish handwriting. 'Sev,' it said, 'I really hope you don't get into trouble for using your mum's camera. You really shouldn't have. If you do, tell them it was my idea, tell them I made you bring it. Mum and dad loved the photo. They love how it move. Thanks for coming over, it was great but mum says you should've stayed longer. I think she likes you. Happy Christmas, love Lilly,'

"He had Christmas dinner with them," Harry breathed, " I think that's my...grandparents," he told Ginny.

Harry became so engrossed in the photographs as the minutes ticked by. that he didn't notice Ginny tactful exit. It wasn't that she'd grown bored, it was simply that she felt like an intruder.

Just as he didn't notice his girlfriend leave, he also didn't notice that he spent hours just sitting on the floor, taking out each scrap of paper and examining each photograph. He eventually fell asleep, lying in between the mess around him and was only woken up when Remus came down with Teddy early in the morning.

"What's all this, Harry?" the tired looking father asked.

"Erm...birthday present," Harry explained, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and starting to gather up the photographs.

Teddy exclaimed happily when he saw that Fawkes was still in the room, still using an arm rest as a perch with his eyes closed. "From Fawkes?" Remus asked, sarcastically.

"From Snape," Harry corrected with a smile. "I thought you'd gone," he said to the bird who blinked open his great eyes and tilted his head as if to contradict Harry statement.

Remus knelt down with care and began to help Harry in piling up the papers but when he saw a young Lilly on a moving photograph standing proudly beside a small snowman, he stopped. "Severus sent you these?" he clarified.

"...Yeah," Harry answered and Remus smiled kindly as he resumed his task.

"I see," the man said once they were done clearing them all away. "And, Harry, I've been meaning to ask...going back to Hogwarts for another year..." he began.

It seems that Minerva McGonagall, on hearing some of the seventh year students ask to return for another school year, had taken the idea and ran with it. Letters had been dispatched about a week ago from the Deputy Headmistress to all seventh years leaving the choice entirely up to them. If only a few wanted to return they would be able to but it would in no way affect anyone who didn't.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, honestly," Harry told him. "I want to go back, I love Hogwarts and technically, I missed out on my last year...but the Auror office said I could go for training if I wanted. But I don't know if I should considering I missed out on a year of school."

"Something tells me, the Auror office would make an exception."

"I don't want to be an exception, Moony. I want to be an Auror because I've earned it like everyone else."

"And you haven't?" Remus asked, in disbelief. "You're more than capable of passing the Auror training, Harry, but I'm sure it would wait a year if you went back to Hogwarts."

"...Yeah, that's what Hermione said."

"Perhaps you should talk to Minerva," he suggested, "Or Severus; he is the headmaster."

"I don't think he'd want to talk about this kind of thing with me," Harry sighed.

"Why not?"

"I just...he'd probably just get bored," the young wizard sighed. "He was glad when I left the castle...said I was acting like a mother hen or something and he's probably got enough to deal with anyway. I'll just send a letter to professor McGonagall."

"If you say so," Remus shrugged. "But it was nice of him to send you this, wasn't it?" he asked, looking down at the box in Harry's hands. The young man hadn't even noticed he'd been holding it until now. So he stood up on legs that protested at his having sat and slept on the floor all night, and placed the box on the nearest table.

"Yeah, it was," Harry agreed.

Chapter 5: 10th August 1998

Letters

10th August 1998

Harry really did love the Burrow. Aside from Hogwarts it was perhaps his favourite place in the world. He was sat in the garden with Neville, Luna, Harry, Ron, the twins, Ginny and Hermione in the mid morning sun.

"I get it, Harry," Neville sighed. "I really do, but it doesn't make it any easier. Last year was...miserable. It was horrible. I'm not sure I want a repeat of it all," he said, tossing a piece of paper onto the grass. It was one of the letters that each seventh year student had received from McGonagall about returning for another year of study.

"It won't be like that," Harry assured him.

"I'd love to go back," Luna said, smiling. "But it depends on how quickly dad gets better. I couldn't leave him alone if he's still unwell," she explained.

Xenophilius Lovegood had been imprisoned by Death Eaters in Azbaban, so naturally he'd been ill treated. Though he'd betrayed Harry to the Death Eaters to save his daughter, Harry couldn't find it in him to be angry with the eccentric man. He was a father protecting his daughter, how could he question that?

"How is he?" Hermione asked, kindly.

"He's certainly better than he was," Luna smiled at her.

"Well, what about you three?" Neville asked Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Didn't the Ministry offer you jobs...it was in the Prophet," he explained.

"Yeah, they did," Ron answered. "Said we could go for Auror training if we wanted. Mum's not too keen on that though; reckons we've had enough of tracking down dark wizards. But I dunno what else I'd do," he admitted. "Fred and George said I could work with them in the shop, too," he sighed.

"Of course you can, Ronniekins," Fred smirked.

"We need a lab rat to test out a new batch of love potions," George added.

"Git," Ron growled, shoving his brother on the shoulder.

"Being an Auror's what I've wanted since I came to Hogwarts," Harry said, "But I want the year I missed out on first."

"Yes," Luna began, "Technically, we finished our final year, but you missed it. That must not have been easy."

"I'm going back," Hermione declared.

"Course you are," Ron rolled his eyes, "Can't keep you away from the library, can we?"

"You don't have to go if you don't want to, Ronald," his girlfriend replied and the twins snickered quietly. They knew as well as everyone else that if Hermione was returning to Hogwarts, then by default, so was Ron.

Hours later, Remus joined them in the garden with Teddy in his arms. The boy was happily deposited in Harry's waiting arms while the older wizard conjured a chair and sat down.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked him, watching as Teddy began to eye the garden gnomes which were hiding behind the bushes, curiously.

"Tonks is nervous," Remus explained, "So I'm out here hiding."

"Why's she nervous?" Ron asked, "Does she have to go back to school too?"

"Severus is coming," the man said and Ron visibly blanched.

"He is? Why? I sent a letter to McGonagall, did you..." he wondered if Remus had ignored what Harry had said the other day about going back to Hogwarts.

"To see me, he says," Remus shrugged, handing a small piece of parchment to Harry.

'Lupin, I'm told that you're residing at the Burrow. I will speak to you there at quarter past twelve this afternoon. Leave the Floo open,' the note read and it was signed with a loopy double 'S' signature and stamped officially with the Hogwarts crest.

"Blimey, rather you than me," Ron muttered. As much as he believed Harry when he said that Snape was on their side, the Potions Master wasn't exactly the definition of a light wizard and he could still be intimidating as hell.

"It only just arrived," Remus said, chuckling at Ron's attitude.

"It's almost midday, now," Hermione remarked.

"Bloody hell!" Ron grumbled, jumping to his feet, "I'm off."

"Sit down, Ron," his girlfriend rolled her eyes.

"So, what's Tonks doing?" Harry asked, listening to the occasional raised voice of her or Mrs. Weasley or Tonks herself from inside the house.

"Well, her and Molly," Remus began, "They're cleaning."

"Cleaning? What for?" Ron frowned.

"For when Severus arrives."

"Don't think he'll care 'bout a clean house t'be honest," Ron replied, "Wouldn't have thought Tonks'd care, either."

"You know what mum's like," Ginny shrugged.

"What's he coming here for anyway?" Ron asked suddenly and winced as both Hermione and Ginny sent very light stinging hexes at him. "Hey!"

"He can come and go as he pleases," his girlfriend replied.

"Yeah...but..." the redhead grumbled.

"I don't think he's left the castle since...well," Harry began, "It'll be good for him to get out, anyway."

"I still think he's angry about that Order of Merlin and he's only coming to curse us all," Ron told them.

"Ronald," Hermione sighed.

"It's your fault, Harry," Ron continued. "You were only supposed go in, clear his name, and walk back out again, but oh no, that wasn't enough was it? You had to get the dungeon bat a First Class Order of Merlin. He's probably gonna chop us up and use us for potion ingredients!"

"Honestly," Hermione shook her head.

"What?!" he snapped back while Harry repressed a smirk.

At exactly a quarter past the hour, Snape stepped out of the Burrow, having emerged from the fireplace without a trace of soot on his clothes. He was wearing his usual thick, flowing, black robes over a black frock coat and white shirt. His neck was still bandaged and it was clearly difficult for him to button up his high collars over the still tender skin.

He was followed out of the house by an animated Molly Weasley and Tonks. Thankfully, they'd not yet asked why he'd wanted to use the Floo but the truth was he simply didn't want to risk apparating so far yet.

From what Harry had seen and heard in the hospital wing, Snape had lost a lot of weight that he hadn't had to lose in the first place over the last year, but robes added a lot of bulk to a person. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall had joined forces to get the man to eat more and to take his medicine. It had been rather funny to see the two women fussing over the emaciated, pale man like bossy, powerful mother hens who were unaffected by his dark glares and scowls.

"...Think he heard me?" Ron muttered.

Remus only gave him a small smile as Snape walked over to them. He looked rather out of place in the light and airy green gardens, like a stubborn shadow in front of the colourful, rustic home of the Weasley's. He probably knew this, but he didn't let it show, instead he looked confident striding along, glaring at the gnomes around him as if daring them to come any closer. They didn't. They kept their distance. They'd been annoying everyone lately. They'd approach people and tug at their clothes, try and steal their shoes or their food if they chose to eat outside and they seemed to be able to resist a de-gnoming better than ever before.

"How come the gnomes don't annoy him?" Ron asked, watching as they proceeded to tug at the hem of mother's dress and at the perpetually untied laces of Tonk's boots.

"They know better than to annoy Snape," Fred remarked with a smirk.

"Hey, Gred, what potions need gnomes brains?" George asked.

"Or gnomes blood?" Fred added.

"Or gnomes fingers?"

"I dunno, Forge," Fred said, "Maybe Ronniekins should ask him, since he's so interested in potions today."

"We could ask for him," his twin suggested, happily.

"Don't!" Ron uttered as Snape made it over to them.

Remus conjured him a chair made of dark wood which looked just as out of place among their ramshackle, white wood furniture as Snape did in the garden. Tonks sat beside Harry and Teddy on the grass and Molly vanished back into the house.

"Morning, Severus," Remus said, not expecting a reply. He remembered from his year as a Hogwarts teacher that Severus was not a morning person or even an early afternoon person and this only served to enhance his reputation as a night owl, or as the younger students thought, a vampire.

He'd been warned by almost every other professor when he'd started that the Potions Master was even more grouchy than usual in a morning, until he'd had at least two cups of strong coffee. Clearly the man had not had those two cups of coffee yet. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?" he asked, knowingly.

"...No," Snape replied, simply.

"No coffee?" Remus asked, surprised. "Alright then...you, erm...you wanted to talk to me about something," he prompted.

Snape gave the werewolf a slight nod and he took a small, rolled up parchment from his robes and it floated over to Remus. "Read it," the pale headmaster replied, simply.

Remus scanned the document quickly and after a few minutes he looked up with a look of stunned disbelief on his face. "You're giving me a job?" he whispered.

"What? What job?" Tonks exclaimed, snatching the parchment and reading it to herself.

"Why?" Remus asked him.

"Don't you want the job?"

"Of course I want the job," the werewolf said, "I'd love it, but what about...I thought I..."

"I doubt the Ministry would protest to a war hero," Snape lightly sneered at the term, "Working in a school."

"But I'm..."

"A werewolf," Snape finished for him. "I am aware," he added slowly.

"Defence! Great!" Tonks exclaimed happily, looking up from the paper. "Say yes, Remus!" she nudged his shoulder.

"I just...can't, I can't, Severus. Everyone knows what I am this time. They might not mind now, but after a few months, people start to worry and I'll just be told to leave. It's not worth the trouble. Find someone else," he said, despondent.

"But you were a great teacher," Harry told him.

"If you refuse this job, what other work will you do? Work in an old, muggle book shop in the middle of nowhere, perhaps?" Snape asked, shrewdly.

"How did you..." Remus began but stopped with a smile. "Of course you'd know about that," he said, quietly. For a while, Remus had managed to find work in a run down muggle book shop run by a nearly blind old man. The pay had been terrible but at least it had been something. "But I'll find something, I always do. It's good of you to ask, but...Severus...why me?" Remus asked, genuinely confused. "After...everything...why me?"

"Because there is no one else," he answered slowly.

"I find that hard to believe," the werewolf replied.

"Not my problem."

In fact, it very much was his problem. Ideally, a Headmaster should have solved his staffing problems much sooner but in this case, Severus hadn't. Ideally, he wanted to teach Defence himself but it was probably for the best that he didn't. Minerva had mentioned Lupin early on when they'd been reviewing who to hire, but he'd blatantly refused. Severus refused to hire one of the people responsible for much of his childhood misery. But, as the days passed he was left with few options. He knew that it would be easier based on the fact that Lupin was now a war hero but he was still a werewolf. Parents would object at some point just as he knew they would object to a Death Eater Headmaster. If he was going to ruin what was left of his reputation, why not do so throughly?

And, of course, Lupin had saved his life recently.

He'd been, once again, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's medical advice and he'd wandered out to the newly commissioned memorial of those who had died in the battle and then he'd paid his respects at Dumbledore's tomb. Despite the old man's assurance that his soul would remain undamaged by what he'd done since he was only doing as he'd been asked, Severus had never believed that. Albus Dumbledore had been the one person to give him a second chance and he'd murdered the man that he'd sworn his loyalty to. He'd been struck, not for the first time, with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He'd really only intended to visit the memorial and then return to his dark rooms to brood but the guilt had been too strong to ignore. He'd somehow ended up out by the Black Lake and had eventually collapsed, and with his body's weakened immune system, he'd caught hypothermia fairly quickly. Hypothermia was fairly easy to cure with magic but his body had been through so much already, that Poppy had wondered if he'd recover at all.

Lupin and Potter had been the ones to find him by the Lake. In his mind, hiring Lupin, enabling the man to raise his child would clear his life debt. But of course, he already owed so much to Potter that letting the boy have the werewolf around for his final, repeated, year was just another cross he would have to bear.

"You don't...owe me anything, you know," Lupin remarked, delicately.

"In that case, you accept?"

"I never said that, I just...will you let me think about it?" he asked and Snape stood up.

"A week," the Headmaster said, "No more than that."

"Oh, Severus," Molly came out of the house carrying a small tray of food. "You have to stay for dinner. Minerva said you can't have any coffee and Poppy said the sugar won't do you any good either..." she said and watched as the twins and Ron chuckled to themselves. "And we all know how much you need your coffee..."

Fred and George listened and tried not to laugh, they really did but it was just to funny trying to imagine Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey stopping Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, double agent and bat of the Hogwarts dungeons, from drinking his coffee. So naturally, they burst out laughing and Hermione and Ginny stared at them in horror. "Shut it," Ginny muttered at them.

"Professor," Fred began much to the horror of his sister and his mother, "I'm sure we can sneak you a coffee or two out here."

"All we ask is not to ban our products in Hogwarts for a year," George finished for him, but the man's silent glare was practically screaming the answer 'no'.

"Six months, then," Fred suggested but Snape's expression didn't waver.

"Fred, George," Molly scolded, glancing at Snape warily. She balanced the tray expertly on one hand and with a flourish of her wand, one of the garden tables floated over next to Snape and she placed the tray on it.

Molly Weasley and her husband had been some of the few people who had genuinely wanted to trust Snape after he'd changed sides and that had always struck him as odd. He'd made no effort to endear himself to people, especially people in the Order that their genuine goodwill always surprised him, even now.

Snape took one look at the tray of food and sighed. "Poppy has recruited you for her campaign, hasn't she?" he asked the red headed woman.

"W...whatever do you mean?" Molly asked.

"This," he pointed dismissively at the dark berry smoothy which he'd seen enough of in the last few months to last a lifetime. "Has essence of dittany in it," he said then pointed at the muffin. "Rosemary, sage, thyme...and herbal tea," he finished after gesturing to the banana on toast topped with herbs and the mug of tea and honey.

"I told them you'd know," Molly admitted, throwing up her arms in defeat.

"I don't need another nurse maid," he said.

"I'm not trying to be a nurse maid, Severus and neither are Minerva and Poppy. They're worried about you. You're not eating enough, you..."

"I'm fine," Snape rolled his eyes picking up the mug of herbal tea with a resigned expression.

Molly clearly didn't believe him but she wisely chose not to verbally disagree.

"How are the repairs going, Severus?" Remus asked him, diplomatically, "Will the castle be ready in time?"

"...Most of it," Snape answered, after a moment.

"What's left?"

"The courtyard. The battlements. The important work is done. The Great Hall should be finished before next week."

"That's good," Remus replied, relieved. "And I was wondering...the students coming back...the eighth years. Where will they stay? How's it all going to..."

"It's a little late to be asking about that now, Lupin," Snape scoffed. "I can't simply tell forty students that they can't return after all."

"Forty people are coming back?" Harry asked, "Last I heard it was only...about ten."

"Well, now it's forty three," the headmaster stated. "If you don't want the added students, simply say so and return that parchment."

"After everything we've been through, d'you really think the idea of teaching fourty more students than before is enough to put me off?" Remus asked with a smile.

"Where are we going to stay though?" Harry asked Snape. "There won't be enough room in the dormitories, will there?"

"You did receive the letter, didn't you, Potter?" Snape sighed. "There will be a meeting which you are all advised to attend in just under two weeks. Everything will be explained to you," he recited.

"I know," the young wizard replied, "And I'll be there. I just thought, maybe...you could tell us something."

"Why should I? I'm not your personal owl."

"Oh," Harry sighed. It was difficult for him most of the time to try and get along with Snape. He wanted to. He really did. The man had been his mother's best friend so clearly she'd seen something in him worthy of befriending. Snape had spent half of his life trying to atone for his mistakes and he'd saved Harry's life more times than he could count. But Snape could be so difficult to talk to and he could still be viciously cruel even though he could tell the man was trying.

"Severus," Molly whispered, scolding him like a child. He honestly missed the days when he was feared sometimes. Now people seemed to think he was a complete and utter pushover.

"What?" he hissed back and she gestured to Harry's despondent look and he absently waved his wand at blades of grass at his feet. Snape sighed and pursed his lip before he spoke again.

"...There's not much to tell...yet," he admitted. "Nothing's been finalised. It's been an administrative nightmare. You can't stay in your house dormitories because there's not an even split between the four houses. Someone will complain eventually. They could be expanded but considering that there was far more important work to do, it seemed rather irrelevant. And people are changing their minds about whether or not they want to return every day."

"And you can't choose anywhere until you know how many people will come back," Remus said in understanding.

"I wasn't expecting to be inundated with owls about this every day," Snape said. "By the time I've found somewhere even remotely suitable, more letters arrive and it makes all my work useless."

Harry stared at him, surprised the man had answered him so honestly and in so many words.

"That's why the meeting is so close to the start of term," Hermione surmised.

"Correct," Snape replied, tearing off a piece of the muffin and eating it with a look of distaste.

Just as he was putting down the muffin and turning his attention to the toast, the small, feline patronus of Minerva McGonagall seemed to pounce out of nowhere and settled at his feet. "Severus," it spoke, "The representatives from the Ancient Monument Guild are here to see you. I get the feeling that this is why you left the castle so suddenly. I found their letter on your desk and Albus said that your reaction to it was so comical, I'm sorry to have missed it. I left them reviewing the repairs to the Great Hall but they're none too happy about the state of the courtyard. You'd best come back...and do try not to call them wrinkled old dunderheads again, we do need their approval after all," it said and then vanished in a swirling, light blue mist.

Fred, George, Ron and Harry began to chuckle and even Remus and Molly were fighting to hold back their smiles.

"Wrinkled old dunderheads?" Tonks chuckled, looking up at him.

Snape expertly looked as stoic as ever when faced with their smirking faces. "That was the polite version," he replied, calmly and that was what set them all laughing uncontrollably.

"What on earth did they do to deserve that?" Remus asked him, smirking.

"Have you ever met people from the Guild of Ancient Monuments?" Snape asked him, patiently.

"No."

"Well, then, simply put, they are aptly named. They are ancient monuments. The youngest member is a hundred years old and he has a rather annoying habit of calling me 'boy'."

"I see," Remus said, still smiling. "Anything else?"

"They wanted the floor of the hall to be yellow and the walls, green," Snape told them with an exasperated look.

"And...they're supposed to, what? Protect ancient monuments or something?" Harry asked, "By making them look ridiculous?"

"It seems so."

"The floor's not yellow is it?" Hermione asked, horrified at the idea.

"No," the headmaster answered and she seemed relieved.

"So, what'd they want this time?" Harry wondered just as McGonagall's patronus returned.

"Severus, really, you can't avoid them all day again," it said.

"Watch me," he muttered under his breath, taking a bite out of the toast. At least this piece of food didn't appear to repulse him.

"Master Wilkinson will file a complaint about us if you don't come. And then all the work will have to stop and you know we can't afford any delays," it finished, disappearing again.

"Shouldn't you go?" Remus asked him but the man seemed to be in no hurry at all to move.

"I wouldn't," Ron muttered and Hermione lightly swatted the side of his head making Teddy laugh and clap his hands.

Snape finished his slice of toast and picked up a second piece after drinking more of his herbal tea when, once again, the patronus arrived. It tugged at the hem of his long robes and glared at him.

"Severus Tobias Snape!" McGonagall sounded furious now. "Merlin help me, if you leave me alone to deal with this, then I swear, I'll send an army of cats into your precious potions lab..."

"Not mine anymore," he grumbled, biting into the toast while Fred and George snickered quietly.

"Please, Severus, don't do this. You cannot leave me at their mercy! They make jokes about wainscotting for pities sake!" she begged rather dramatically. "Just come back and explain to them what's left to finish and I'll get Poppy to drop your coffee ban. I swear on Merlin's beard, I will," she finished and at this, Snape actually raised an eyebrow and looked up. His expression was one of deep concentration simply at the prospect at being given 'permission' to drink coffee again that it was more comical than the image of him calling anyone a 'wrinkled old dunderhead.'

Severus stood suddenly, a piece of half eaten toast in his hand and stalked off back to the house, heading for the fireplace.

"Severus," Remus called after him. "Come back tonight. I'll have an answer for you," he said when his wife kept nudging his leg and looking over at Snape's retreating form. The man gave no indication of having heard him though, but Remus knew that he had.

"Did...did we seriously just see Snape run off for coffee?!" Ron asked them all.

"I think we did," George grinned.

"And it gives me an idea, Forge," his brother replied.

"Me too, Gred. I think we need some coffee based jokes in the shop, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

That evening, a rather smug Severus Snape was sitting on the porch outside the Burrow with an almost empty mug of coffee in his hand. He was sitting across from Remus Lupin who, not five minutes ago, had handed the signed parchment back to him in acceptance of the job offer.

Severus was both relived and apprehensive that Lupin had accepted the job as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was one less thing he now needed to worry about for the moment, but in the not so distant future, it would probably cause him no end of worry.

To complicate matters even further, he'd agreed to Minerva's idea of letting Tonks work as Lupin's assistant when he was recovering every month, so both of them plus their son would be living in the castle. It wasn't unheard of for young children and families of professors to live in the castle, but it certainly hadn't happened in several years. Mainly because none of the professor had had any young children; Snape had been the youngest professor in decades until Quirrell had been hired.

"You can still change your mind, you know," Remus said to him.

Snape said nothing as he finished his coffee and then set it down on a small, wonky table next to him. "Wrong," he told the werewolf eventually.

"Wrong?" Remus repeated, furrowing his brow.

"This is a legally binding contract," Snape said, making the minutest of gestures with his eyes towards the parchment next to his empty coffee mug.

"Of course," the other man nodded, knowingly, "But thank you, anyway."

"Don't you have an infant to care for?" Snape snapped at him.

"He's asleep," Remus answered. "...By the way, Harry liked your present," he remarked, "He was up all night looking at those photographs."

The dark haired headmaster said nothing, but Remus wasn't at all surprised. He considered it fortunate the Snape was speaking to him at all since he still clearly resented him. "Has he said whether or not he's returning to Hogwarts?" the werewolf asked.

"No," Snape answered, monosyllabically.

"He says he wrote to Minerva," Remus continued.

"He did."

"But he didn't tell me what he wrote or what her reply was...Do you know anything about it?"

"Why would I?"

"Maybe...you could talk to him about it," the werewolf suggested and Snape scoffed, "As headmaster, I mean."

Snape only scowled in response. Minerva had been saying the same thing since she got Harry's letter but he'd said that since she was the Deputy Headmistress, he was able to delegate tasks to her. This was one task that he wanted her to deal with. But when all was said and done, he had rather grudgingly agreed to remain headmaster, and so, if a student wished to speak to him, he couldn't really refuse.

"I'm sure he'd be grateful," Remus added, watching as Snape grimaced slightly. The werewolf found it slightly ironic that the man who had acted as a double agent for years, had lied to Voldemort repeatedly and risked his life to protect the child of a man he truly hated, couldn't even talk to that same wizard that was twenty years his junior. "You know, Harry told the Ministry you were the bravest man he'd ever met," Remus told him.

"Be quiet, wolf," Snape hissed.

Fortuitously, Harry chose that moment to walk out holding two steaming mugs and went to give one to Remus.

"I was just heading in, actually," he said, standing up. "Goodnight, Severus, night, Harry," he added, giving the younger wizard a gentle smile and a knowing wink when his back was turned to Severus.

Snape quietly growled at him for his interference but Harry naturally thought that it had been meant for him. "Erm...I'll just leave these here for you, then," he put down the two mugs on the wonky table between the two chairs and turned to leave.

"Sit," the headmaster spoke.

"What?"

"Sit down, Potter," he reiterated.

Harry sat down in their chair which Remus had just vacated and picked up one of the mugs of warm coffee. Snape didn't seem to be in any hurry to speak as he stared out into the garden, watching the gnomes fighting amongst themselves. Some were throwing pinecones or small stones at each other now.

"How are you doing, sir?" Harry asked after a tense few minutes, not knowing why he'd been told to stay if the man wasn't going to say anything.

"Better," Snape replied, brusquely.

"And, erm, how did the meeting go with the Ancient Monument Guild?"

"...They are...displeased with me," the man said. His voice was beginning to sound a little hoarse so he took a sip from the new mug of coffee and coughed lightly.

"Why?" Harry frowned. "Did you...erm...call them, y'know...dunderheads?" he asked, chancing a glance over at Snape to see an almost imperceptible twitch of his lip.

"No," he answered.

"Then why..."

"Doesn't matter," Snape shook his head.

Harry fell silent again as he drank his coffee. He finished the whole mug before the gnomes fight had ended and the winner was running around happily, waving his arms in the air. "Talk," Snape said, suddenly.

"...About?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"The Auror Office," he clarified.

"Oh...that...well, the Ministry said I could join the Auror Corps. I'd have to go through the training first but..." Harry began and he found it rather difficult to stop. "I mean, I wanted to be an Auror and everyone expects me to be one. I don't know what else I'd do really."

"You realise..." Snape began. "That there will be those who will use you as nothing more than a poster boy for the Ministry. They've already done so," he said, and he was right.

Harry had been given little peace from a certain group of reporters and politicians. He'd wanted to keep the public appearances to a minimum after everything he'd been through. He'd agreed to attend the Death Eater trials if he was needed and he'd been there to defend Snape to the Ministry too. But he'd also been asked to speak almost daily to the press and some politicians wanted him to visit the Ministry on virtually a daily basis as well. Naturally, he'd refused and the Order had set up a complicated system of wards around the Burrow to give Harry and his friends some much needed peace and quiet.

"Not everyone's like that...but...yeah...I know," Harry admitted.

When he'd been at Hogwarts, watching over Snape for weeks, it had been easy to ignore things happening outside the castle, but when he'd left for the Burrow it had become increasingly difficult. Being at Hogwarts was almost like being in a bubble where the world didn't matter, until the war had worsened of course.

"However," Snape continued. "If that is what you want to do, you will simply have to endure the fame," he said.

If it was anyone else who had spoken, Harry would have said that they were being sarcastic. Over his years at Hogwarts, Snape had only ever spoken to him in anger, contempt or with scathing sarcasm. Surely Snape wasn't trying to be funny.

"Yeah, I love being 'famous Harry Potter'," he scoffed, "Probably about as much as you love being 'famous Severus Snape'."

"I don't recall," Snape replied without without hesitation, "Asking you to inform the Ministry or the Prophet about anything I've done."

"Well, I couldn't just...not tell them. They would've sent you to Azkaban!"

Snape sighed and rubbed at his left forearm subconsciously; he hardly realised he was doing it most of the time. But Harry wasn't the only who had seen the action, Minerva and Poppy had too. They thought the Mark was somehow hurting him but Severus wouldn't say one way or the other.

"What I meant to say," Snape said after taking a quiet breath to reign in a much more snappy retort, "Was that if you wish to become an Auror then you should do so regardless of what anyone else tells you."

"Really?" Harry started at him, surprised. "But what about going back to school?" he asked.

"Naturally, as headmaster," he gave as light sneer at the term, "I should stress the importance of education. But there doesn't seem much point since I was also the headmaster when you missed out on that education..."

"But that wasn't..."

"So, I shall simply say that if you can defeat the Dark Lord without finishing a final school year, then you can perhaps live without it. If that is what you wish," Snape finished, pointedly ignoring Harry's interruption.

"...Oh..." Harry muttered, surprised, "Well...what if I wanted to go back?"

"Then do so. The Auror Department isn't going anywhere, is it?" Snape asked with a slight shake of his head.

"No, I don't suppose it is," Harry snorted, "Thanks, professor."

Chapter 6: Early June 1998

Guilt

Early June 1998

Severus Snape had tried many times over the last few days to escape from his own deputy headmistress. She seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere and was also very determined to see his health improve. He didn't understand why. No matter how many times he disregarded her advice or her care, it just didn't seem to make any difference. Nothing could change the mind of such a steadfast and headstrong witch once her mind was made up.

"It's the least I owe you," she'd explained more than once. "You're my colleague and my friend. Things will get better, Severus and so will you."

The way that she'd said it had implied that he had little choice in the matter anyway.

Every day and every night she sat with him to eat, sometimes long after the food was gone and even after the sun had set, she kept him company. At first, he'd been at his most vitriolic. He hadn't asked for any company. He didn't want any company. He wanted to be left alone. He'd had to move every portrait from his bedroom to stop Albus from doing the same.

Sometimes, he believed, the idea of a wizarding portrait was just too cruel. The person to whom he'd sworn his absolute and unwavering loyalty, had died by his own hand and he now had to face that smiling old face everyday. A face that showed not even a trace of animosity. The old man's portrait was just as kind as ever to him. In fact, he frequently lectured Severus on how his guilt was misplaced and that he was so very thankful that the younger wizard had survived.

"Severus, my dear boy," Albus would say. "Things may not have happened exactly as we predicted, but on this account I am extremely happy indeed to have been wrong. That both you and Harry are alive is far more than I could ever have hoped for."

Typically, Severus would scoff at such a remark and then, as usual, Albus' portrait would smile at him kindly and patiently. It was a twisted form of punishment. He preferred it when his days were full of hated glares and cruel words, both of which he deserved. But this, this he couldn't accept.

He had killed Albus Dumbledore, no matter the intention or their plan, it was simply a fact. And now people were telling him that he was a hero? That he was brave? It was laughable. And the idea that he should stay as headmaster was just as ridiculous. He had to put a stop to it. He should leave the castle, return to Spinner's End and just be forgotten about. He said as much to Minerva almost every night and each time, she had an answer ready for him.

Tonight was no different.

"You're an ill man, Severus," she said, taking a sip of her whiskey as she sat by the warm fire in his quarters. "You've proven that you are incapable of caring for yourself when you are ill."

"You can't keep me here...against my will," he hissed, his voice better than it had been but still weak. "I won't be made to continue as headmaster...simply because you wish it! I do not wish it!"

"I won't be headmistress," Minerva replied, calmly, "How can I take your place knowing what you've done for this school?"

"Don't ask this of me," he said, "I won't do it...I can't do it."

How could he possibly face a lifetime of being headmaster? Of taking the place of the man he'd killed? It was unthinkable. It was wrong.

"Albus thought you could."

"Albus is...dead," Severus sighed, "Because I killed him! Don't you...understand?!"

"And Albus' portrait is where you will see it everyday," she nodded, slowly. "I do understand. But it was what he wanted. What you did meant that dozens if not hundreds of people lived. The Ministry has not attributed any blame to you for anything..."

"The Ministry," he sneered, "Are the least of my concerns. I am not afraid of the Ministry, nor am I afraid of the threat of Azkaban...It's no more than what I deserve."

"Well, thankfully, Potter disagreed and so did those at the hearing. You're a free man, Severus, it would be a sorry waste of your talents to simply disappear."

He said very little after that, he always had hated repeating himself and they sat in silence for the rest of the night.

The next morning, a few hours before sunrise, meaning that he'd gotten very little sleep again, Severus was awake and he'd dragged himself out of the castle and down to the memorial that had been made in honour of the fifty people who'd died in the battle. The least he owed those people was to stare at each of their names, commit them to memory and apologise. Many of them had been children; children that he'd meant to be protecting as headmaster.

He then made his way to Dumbledore's grave and before he knew it, Severus had fallen to his knees and he found himself crying silently. He'd been unable to mourn the loss of the greatest light wizard of the age because he'd been so deep in emery territory. One false move and their whole plan would have been for nothing. Everything had to be depressed and hidden but now it didn't need to be.

The loss of Albus Dumbledore was one that Severus felt very deeply and not only because he'd been the one to kill the old man. For almost two decades, Albus had been the only person he'd ever been able to talk to without hiding anything. Yes, at times, he'd hated the man, he'd certainly hated his plans, but Severus had rejected him and he'd considered Albus a friend. He'd had only two friends in his life and both were dead.

It became simply too much to bear so he left the grave and made his way to the Black Lake.

The giant squid seemed content enough as its tentacles flailed in the air, rising above the water occasionally almost as if it knew he was there. It had been a while since he'd walked by the lake. Before the war had worsened, he'd spoken to the Merpeople often and they brought him potion ingredients from the bottom of the lake. He'd been rather reluctant to learn the language at first, he'd claimed that it was a useless skill but Dumbledore had, as usual, gotten his way. Years before Harry had first attended the school, Albus had used it as an excuse to spent time with him, to talk to him without there being something related to the return of Voldemort. He'd only encouraged Severus to learn when he'd spoken of the rare herbs that only the Merpeople could reach.

He didn't speak to many magical beings around Hogwarts, but he genuinely liked the Merpeople. The centaurs had their heads stuck too high in the clouds to hold any decent conversation. On occasion there were vampires prowling the forbidden forest, but even he was not desperate enough to seek out a blood drinker for the sake of a conversation. When they weren't hungry, vampires were actually rather interesting, but the risk was too great.

Dumbledore had been fond of the Merpeople too and they'd spent quite a lot of time together as he'd learned their language. Severus didn't know if he'd ever speak to them again now that the older wizard was gone.

A strong shiver wracked his body for well over a minute without warning even though it was only the start of July. He was wearing his thick robes, a frock coat and a white shirt, not to mention the layer of bandages he needed now. And yet, he was still cold. He noticed it whenever he strayed too far from a fire. He just couldn't seem to keep warm. Not even the warmest fire could completely ward off the cold but it certainly helped. Out here, there was no warm hearth. He'd given no thought to it when he'd left, but perhaps he should have.

For, if he had, he wouldn't have ended up collapsing when he tried to stand up sometime later. It was after dawn, he'd just watched the sun rise over Hogwarts, he'd stood to return to the castle and everything had blacked out. He remembered landing the ground, the pebbles and stones made for an uncomfortable bed, but he didn't have time to protest.

When next he woke, Severus was in his bed, in the headmaster's quarters, and he was blessedly warm. There was a fire burning from across the dark room and he was buried beneath a pile of blankets in his very comfortable bed.

Poppy must have had a medical monitoring charm set up to tell her when he was awake because shortly after, he was being lectured by the stern matron about how very stupid he was. He'd been lying by the lake, completely vulnerable, for forty five minutes before Harry and Remus had found him. That didn't sound like a long time, but with his dramatically damaged body and his weakened immune system, courtesy of Nagini's venom, it had been more than enough to give him a serious case of hypothermia. He'd been asleep for another week during which time, Poppy feared that he might not wake up again.

After being thoroughly and embarrassingly lectured by both Poppy and Minerva, a silent Harry Potter entered the dark room. For a moment, Snape was wondering whether this was lecture number three, complete with Lily's green eyes, here to guilt him into not leaving the castle again.

"How are you feeling, professor?" Harry asked. "Never mind," he added when the man only stared at him. "Sorry, it's just...we were all really worried, we thought you..." he trailed off.

With nothing to say, Severus found himself wishing to simply be left alone. He didn't understand Harry's constant attempts to be civil. But after a while, they'd worn down his resolve to keep his distance, after all, it wasn't every day that people turned a blind eye to his brusque manner.

"...I merely went for...a walk," Severus sighed, "I am told that I am...a free man. I am allowed to do as I please."

"You weren't...leaving?" Harry asked, quietly.

The older wizard rolled his black eyes and Harry sighed, relieved. "He told me not to tell you," he began again after a moment, "But Remus found you, out by the Lake. He had to levitate you all the way back."

"If the wolf told you not to...tell me, why are you?"

"His name's Remus," Harry declared. "I know why you don't like him and I understand...but he's not the same person he was when you were both in school. People change."

"And I should...forgive and forget?" Snape scoffed. He'd heard this argument too many times from Dumbledore, so he had no desire whatsoever to hear it yet again. Although, on hearing that the werewolf had saved his life, did this now mean that he owed a life debt to yet another of his childhood tormentors? It wasn't something that he wanted to consider and yet, he had little choice. Wizards took life debts very seriously, after all.

"I just..."

"Get out," Severus sighed. "Leave me be, Potter," he said, and surprisingly, Harry did as he was told.

Chapter 7: Early November 2003

Prince Manor

Early November 2003

Evanora Morgana Ada Prince was a hundred and seven years old. She'd seen the passing of almost her entire family; her parents and grandparents, her childless younger brother, and two stillborn children before her only living child, Eileen had died as well. Now she was alone. The last of the Prince family. Well, almost the last.

She was pale and her once ebony hair was pure white, her thin face, lined with age and her eyes were tired and sunken. She did not have the face of a kindly old lady. She had a rather sinister face actually. Lying propped up in her bed, a fairly grand, four poster antique made of dark wood and hung with frayed curtains, covered in blankets, she looked like an unhappy, sinister caterpillar.

Her bedroom itself was almost completely dark. The thick curtains closed against the mid morning, winter sun and the candles were few and far between. There was however, a fire burning in the grate and it was quite a large fire, too. It didn't help that the room, like the entire manor, was painted with a dark colour above the wainscotting.

Standing at the far end of the room, was the old woman's legal representative. A thin, sour faced wizard in an traditional Victorian style suit. Next to this man, was an old woman in a matrons' uniform sitting down at the small table by one of the windows. They showed no signs of leaving the family reunion to its privacy and Evanora didn't even look at they, let alone dismiss them.

Severus Snape, wearing all black, melted into the shadows, save for his pale face and hands as he sat in a chair to the right of the old woman. He'd been sat there for several minutes but his maternal grandmother had yet to say even a single word to him and hadn't said a word to her either.

A few days ago he'd received a letter, not from Evanora, but from her solicitor. It had stated simply and without hesitation, that the old woman was not expected to live out the week and that it was in his best interest to visit and then to live in her home until she passed. So, after much deliberation, here he was. He'd left the running of Hogwarts to Minerva McGonagall, telling her only that he had been called away on an urgent matter.

But if he was expected to remain in a room to be stared at and studied by an old woman he'd never before met, she had another think coming. He stood to leave, tiring of their silent staring match when suddenly, the woman snorted at him.

He spun slowly, narrowing his eyes at her when finally, she spoke.

"Three minutes. You've got more patience than your mother had. Sit down," she croaked in her aged, withered voice. But he made no move to sit back down. "Sit down, headmaster," she sneered in a mocking attempt at politeness.

"Why?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, "So that you can test my patience again?"

"So I can talk to you without getting another ache in my dying neck, you stupid boy," Evanora snapped.

It was with great effort that Snape managed to keep from sneering back at her as he sat back down. "I expected," she continued, seeming content that he'd obliged, "That you'd ask me 'why'. Why I never sought you out, not once in all these years?"

"Why would I need to ask," Snape replied, calmly, "Something to which I already know the answer?"

"Oh?" she asked, raising her own silver eyebrow much like had just done, "And what is that you already know?"

"...I am a half blood," he stated simply and Evanora made a hissing sound of disapproval. His mother had told him many times about her family's pure blood ideology, which she herself believed, but that had made it even more confusing to him as to why she had married a muggle and produced a half blood child.

"Muggle filth," she grumbled. "If I'd have had my way, he'd have been disposed of and she'd have been dragged back here by her hair and made to marry someone decent."

"A pity then, that you did not have 'your way'."

"A great pity!" she exclaimed. "And now, we're all that's left. A dying old woman and a filthy half blood...a shameful waste."

"Tragic," he said, sarcastically.

"At least," Evanora continued, irrespective of his comment. "She did right by us and taught you the proper ways of magic. At what age did she teach you your first dark spell?"

"Eight."

"...Acceptable," she nodded after a moments' thought. "You can always tell a dark wizard. It's in the...the attitude," she said haughtily.

He chose not to reply and with a slight incline if her head, she gestured over the silent man from across the room. "You," she addressed the man, "Over here," she ordered. The man didn't seem offended at this so perhaps he was used to her rudeness. "Give him the papers," she said once he'd walked across to the bed.

"Here," the man said, holding out a thin, leather bound folder with what appeared to be a coat of arms on the front.

"And this is?" Severus asked, taking the folder front him.

"A standard inheritance contract," the man answered.

"Inheritance?"

"This house, its contents, the house elf, and the Prince family vault in Gringotts Bank. The contents of which, are considerable," he answered.

"I was lead to believe that my mother and I were disinherited."

"You were," Evanora said, "The minute that she married that muggle, I disowned her. By extension, you were disinherited at birth. I'd hoped that perhaps she'd return once he was dead, but she always knew how to disappoint me. She had to die first, didn't she?"

Once again, Snape held his tongue.

He'd never been particularly close to either of his parents and he'd been seventeen when his mother had died. Too old to be classed as a child. She'd been left alone in her bedroom with her husband drinking in the living room, in the same house, without knowing. Tobias Snape, during his son's lifetime, had spent much of his time drunk, so it was with little surprise that Severus had returned from Hogwarts for the summer holidays to find his father comatose on the floor. Neither was it the first time he'd had to make his own way home from the train station. But he'd been the one to find his mother's body when he got back. Tobias hadn't even realised that his wife had been dead in her bedroom for at least two days.

"I don't trust politicians," Evanora continued, bluntly. "The last thing I want, alive or dead, is for this house to fall into the Ministry's greedy hands. Putting it simply, it's the Ministry or you. I'm told it's highly unlikely that I will live to the end of the week and seeing as today is Friday, if you would do me the very great kindness," she hissed, "Of remaining here until it is certain that I am dead, it won't take up too much of your valuable time."

Severus knew that she wasn't asking him to stay because she wanted someone to be with her at the end. She wasn't asking because she wanted to get to know him whilst she could, either. It was standard procedure for pure blood, wizarding families. In theory, it usually made for a swift and relatively smooth succession from one head of the family to another.

He gave her a silent nod of affirmation and she weakly managed to call for the house elf called Sabey, dressed in old rags. "This half blood is to be your new master," she told her, simply.

"Yes, mistress," she chimed. "Sabey will be showing master to a room, mistress," she said after and Snape was lead to a bedroom down the corridor.

Severus didn't leave the bedroom he'd been shown into. He spent the afternoon in there, he'd eaten his meals in there and he read into the early hours of the next morning. He was at least thankful of the large bookshelves that seemed to litter the entire house. It was perhaps the only redeemable feature about the place.

When he awoke before breakfast, he walked around the grounds and looked on at the manor.

It was a very depressing, imposing and unwelcoming place made entirely of gray stone with a Gothic arch over the huge, black front door and grimy, mullioned windows. The garden was overgrown and the ivy bad begun to swallow up the walls of the building. It was built around a fountain, which from the look of things, hadn't had any water in it in decades with the pathway stretching out to the massive, wrought iron gates gates at the front.

It wasn't, Snape saw, nearly as large as Malfoy Manor, it was less than a quarter of the size, but it was just as foreboding. If the Malfoy seat had ever reminded him of anything, then it was a mausoleum and as he stood outside Prince Manor, he wondered if all wizarding manor homes were designed to look that way.

Much to his surprise, he'd found what had once been a plentiful herb garden but had long since been left to its own devices. It overlooked an equally wild and dense forest with the family cemetery to the far end. His mother was not buried with them. She'd been buried in little more than a paupers' grave at a small church in Cokeworth. He remembered that his mother had always wanted to return home but her pride had never permitted it. She had made him promise once, that when she was gone, he would at least ask her parents to bury her at the family grave.

He'd dutifully written and received no response.

Two and a half days passed in which Severus hardly spoke to anyone. He had no reason to. His grandmother did not ask to see him. He had no reason to speak to the old woman's matron or her legal advisor. And he scarcely saw the house elf unless she was bringing him his meals. Fortunately, solitude was not something that bothered him.

But, at a quarter past two on Sunday afternoon, Evanora died. As per her wishes, Severus was told by her, now his legal advisor, that there was to be no funeral. The house elf buried her body in the cemetery not ten minutes after she'd breathed her last. The master bedroom in which she had died was cleared of all traces of her within an hour.

"That's everything," Worthington the legal advisor said to him that afternoon after he'd explained the minor legalities of Severus' inheritance.

It had all been straightforward and quick. Pure blood families like the Prince's tended to deal with legalities as quickly as possible and that was very evident here. It was fortunate that Severus was not an overly emotional man and that he hadn't been attached to the deceased, for the whole preceding had been done with no thought to emotion. Only practicality. As it was, that suited the situation perfectly.

Severus was very much a minimalist in his attitude, his magic and his habits. If he was asked to box up a lifetime of belongings, it really wouldn't take very along at all. There was little in his house at Spinner's End that he took with him to Prince Manor. He supposed he could have sold the manor, but in all honesty, Spinner's End repulsed him. It had done for many years now. It felt as though his home, as much as he hated it, had been stained by the Death Eaters that had visited him there at the end of the war. Bellatrix Lestrange had been one of them. Wormtail had been another frequent and unwelcome visitor.

He'd been looking for a new house for some time but he'd never really committed to the idea. After all, most of his time was spent at Hogwarts and it had everything he needed. But he, like the other professors, admitted that on occasion, it was necessary to get away from the castle; living in the same place as you were employed was convenient but not always conducive when it came to staying sane.

So, after sorting through his books in Spinner's End, he removed anything remotely magical and sent it on to the manor. He didn't look back once he'd left.

The house could rot for all he cared.

Chapter 8: 10th September 1998

Masks

10th September 1998

Severus was sat in the secluded living room in the headmasters' quarters. It was a relatively large room, the walls were lined with books, the floor covered with old rugs and a warm fire wasburning in a stone hearth which provided the only source of light. The thick curtains were drawn across the small windows of the tower room and it was silent save for the cracklings of the fire and the occasional clink of a glass being refilled.

The castle was still undergoing repairs but the majority was done, with the help of magic of course. The new school year had begun on the first of September, as always, despite the on going repairs. It had been a much debated topic, in light of all that had happened, whether or not it was prudent to open the school mere months after the end of the war. In the end, it had been decided that it was for the best. Life must go on to honour the dead if nothing else.

It was only the tenth day into the first school term but already, Severus had earned his reputation as an elusive headmaster. He was still recovering after all, but part of him knew that he was simply too ashamed, too cowardly to face the students. It had taken hours of cajoling and debating to convince him to even show his face at the sorting ceremony. He'd felt like an imposter throughout the whole thing but he'd tried not to let it show. He expected students to shout 'How dare you stand where he stood?!' just as Harry had in the great hall. He couldn't face that again. Perhaps he really was a coward.

So instead, Snape had become an expert at managing his work from his office. He hardly ever left it. Even when convalescing. It had been a choice between the Headmaster's office and Spinner's End. Both were poor choices but he never wanted to see Spinner's End again. There, he was haunted by his horrid childhood and of memories of the park or the forest nearby where he and Lilly had played. There, he had been visited by servants of the Dark Lord to pass on his orders and it served to remind him of everything he'd done. But here, in his office, he was haunted by Albus, literally haunted by the man's portrait.

"You missed dinner again, Severus," Remus Lupin, professor of Defence remarked, entering the room with Harry behind him. He'd hoped that by bringing Harry with him, the pale man might do more than simply shoot vile hexes at him until he was forced to leave.

"Go away," Severus sighed, not looking up at them.

"People need to see the headmaster, Severus," the man said.

"He's over there," he waved a pale hand over at the portrait where Albus had been staring in disapproval at him for the last hour or so.

"Professor..." Harry began.

"I don't want to hear it," Snape warned. "Just leave me be," he demanded.

"You need to eat," Remus said kindly, sitting down and lighting some candles and lamps with his wand. It cast the messy room in soft, amber light.

There were books strewn across the room, pieces of parchment littered the floor, some covered in spidery black writing and others screwed up and singed as though they'd been burned in anger. Some glass had been smashed against a wall and there was liquid around it as well.

"This liquid diet of yours isn't exactly advisable," the shabby professor shook his head as he picked up a decanter of Fire Whiskey from a small coffee table next to the Chesterfield where Severus was reclining. It was one of three decanters, and two were empty.

Next to them on the table was a mask and Harry found himself drawn to it. It was beautiful in its own way, which was a rather distorted thought considering that it was, unmistakably, the mask of a Death Eater. It was silver with a long, elegant nose, small slits along the mouth and elaborate, swirling patterns lightly embossed along the surface. It was less ornate than many of the masks Harry had seen before, perhaps it was the most elegant, but it was still a symbol of Voldemorts' power.

"Is this...yours?" he asked, slowly. He looked over at Severus who gave him an almost imperceptible nod without meeting his questioning gaze. "Why'd you keep it?" Harry asked, frowning. He traced an uneasy finger along the rim of the mask, and turned his attention back to the still silent man before the fire. "Why not just destroy it?" he reiterated.

"I...can't," Severus confused after a moment and took a considerable swig of of his drink.

"Why?"

Without saying a word, he held out a pale hand and the mask flew into his palm, leaping straight out of Harry's hands as though it detested him somehow.

"Each mask was made...specifically for each of us...with a particularly dark spell. They have our magic in them," he answered ominously.

"That doesn't explain why you won't destroy it."

"Because it is me, you dunderhead," Snape snapped. "The stupid, eighteen year old me that knew bloody well what he was doing but didn't give a damn about it."

Harry began to believe that the headmaster had had enough to drink, otherwise he doubted he'd be divulging so much information or using words like 'bloody' and 'damn'. It seemed that Remus agreed with him as the man looked across at him uneasily. "My magic made this...thing. I made this thing," Severus sneered down at the mask in his hands. He closed his eyes after a minute and threw the mask to the floor. It clattered loudly against the stone and Harry went to pick it up.

"I think..." he began, "You'd be better of destroying it."

"If you think you can...go ahead," Snape muttered and Harry stood still a moment. He stared at the mask and then tossed it into the burning fire. "Fool," he muttered, not yet opening his eyes.

Harry watched as the mask landed in the grate and frowned when it seemed remarkably unaffected by the flames. It hissed and spluttered for a moment before it leapt out of the fire as though possessed to land right at the feet of its owner. After a moment, Snape's black eyes opened to see it there with an unsurprised expression and he then curled in on himself, lifting his feet up from the ground to rest on the Chesterfield sofa, away from the mask.

"Objects imbued with dark magic cannot be so easily destroyed. You've still a lot to learn if you want to be an Auror, Potter," he said.

"It can't be burned..." Harry whispered to himself. "It's not like...like a horcrux...is it?" he asked, reluctantly.

"...Somewhat," Snape answered quietly.

"It is?!"

"I said somewhat," he rolled his eyes. "It is not a horcrux. But it is an object of dark magic...my dark magic."

"Severus," Albus spoke sadly from one of the portraits. "Please...my dear boy..." he begged.

"One more word and I swear, Albus, I'll turn your bloody portrait around and leave it there with a permanent sticking charm!" Snape yelled, raising his voice for the first time. When he stopped shouting, he broke off in a brief coughing fit, clearly talking for so long was not helping his throat.

"I say!" Phineas cried indignantly from another of the portraits.

"That...goes for you...as well, Black," Snape growled at him.

"I really can't wait for you to leave. This last year has been terrible with only you for company," Phineas spoke, haughtily.

"Now, really, Phineas," Albus protested and he was joined by the other portraits, but they were ignored.

"No, I must speak my mind. He really has been the worst headmaster to ever grace these halls. I don't much care for his attitude or his behaviour."

"His behaviour saved this school!" one of the former headmasters cried.

"Here, here," the others agreed.

"You're all fools. And you, Snape, you foul mouthed, little half bl..."

"Enough!" Severus bellowed, hurling his tumbler at Phineas' portrait with an impressive accuracy that surprised Harry and Remus. "Get out! All of you! I don't care where you go, just get out!" Snape ordered them. "I am in charge here...and I order you to leave!" he reiterated when they made no more to vacate the portraits.

They usually stayed in the main office, but when Severus had moved into the more secluded living room, they'd followed him. But now, unable to disobey such a direct order, they left the portraits empty and returned to the main office. "You too," he added, glaring at Dumbledore, "I've heard enough of your disapproval."

"Severus..."

"Go!" he yelled and with a sigh, Albus left too.

Severus slumped back down on the sofa as though whatever angry energy he'd managed to muster had simply vanished. He reached out a hand over to the table and searched along its surface and then growled, remembering that he'd smashed his glass. He fumbled for his wand and wordlessly conjured another identical tumbler then filled it with whiskey.

"Do you think that's wise?" Remus asked him, quietly.

Severus said nothing, in fact, he gave no outward sign of having heard him speak at all as he finished off the Firewhiskey in his glass once more. "How much of that have you actually drank today?" Remus asked.

"...Not nearly enough," the pale man answered after a tense silence.

"I disagree," the professor stood suddenly and vanished both the glass and all three of the decanters with a wordless flick of his wand.

"Minerva sent you...didn't she?" Severus drawled, not phased in the least.

"She's worried about you," Harry said, "We all are."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying," the young man furrowed his brow. "No one's ever seen you like this, it's..."

"I didn't ask you to come here," Snape hissed, "And I'm certainly not...asking you to stay, so..."

"I want to learn Occlumency," Harry blurted out, suddenly and Snape actually turned to look at him in surprise.

"...What?"

"I mean...I want you to teach me Occlumency. Will you?"

"After what happened last time?" Snape demanded.

"I knew it was important then...and I know it could still be important now. I want to be an Auror and it could save my life. When I fought you, after..."

"You mean when you tried to fight me."

"Yeah," Harry rolled his eyes. "When I tried to fight you," he stressed the word. "You knew what I'd do before I even did it," he said.

"Of course I did. I tried to teach you the importance of shielding your thoughts but you didn't listen to me. I tried to tell you how important it is to use non verbal spells but, again, you didn't listen. You have an open mind and an open mouth. Either one alone could cost you your life, but combined, your death may as well be assured," Snape said, heavily. "However...the Dark Lord is gone and you are not," he added before Harry could protest.

"Doesn't mean I won't need to know how to Occlude in the future."

"No, it doesn't. But not all Aurors are skilled Occlumens," Snape said. "And there are certainly other people who could teach you. Minerva has some knowledge of the skill."

"I asked her about it. She said what she knows is more practical and that you know more about it anyway. And, well, you lied to Voldemort for years..."

"Don't say his..."

"He's gone. The name doesn't matter anymore," Harry said.

"It does to some of us," Snape muttered, clutching at his left forearm.

"And Dumbledore told me the you're probably the most powerful Occlumens in Europe," the young man continued, ignoring Snape's comment.

"Well, if Dumbledore says so," the man grumbled, sarcastically.

"Who taught you? How did you learn?"

"I leaned from a particularly vindictive Death Eater and he taught me as I tried to teach you...but I suppose you merely thought that I was being unnecessarily cruel," Snape answered, shrewdly.

"You really leaned like that?" Harry asked, softly.

"That is what I just said."

"I always assumed Dumbledore taught you," the young man admitted.

"He didn't," Snape said.

"Surely, Voldemort would've known if one of his followers was teaching another how to shield his mind?" Remus asked, intrigued.

"The Dark Lord," he began, pointedly, "Always thought that our skills were beneath his own. He knew that we had Occlumency shields certainly, but nothing to worry him. He believed that it was an indulgence."

"And...why did another Death Eater teach you?"

"Because I taught him to brew the most untraceable and the most lethal poisons...many of them of my own design," he answered with surprising honesty. "He probably killed dozens, if not hundreds of innocent people with the knowledge I gave him. But I believe...he died in an explosion caused by his own inept brewing skills...eventually."

"An unfortunate accident?" Remus raised an eyebrow and Snape gave him an almost imperceptible smile.

"An accident...perhaps. Unfortunate...debatable," he replied rather ominously. "You think my lessons were harsh," he said to Harry, "Yours lasted no longer than two hours a night, once a week, mine usually lasted for at least seven hours and took place five times a week. And the lessons I gave him, always before hand, took the same amount of time."

"But..."

"I don't see why I should even attempt to teach you anything," Snape interrupted him. "You showed little to no improvement the first time even when it was clear that it wasn't only your own life on the line..."

"Well, maybe if I had more instruction other than 'concentrate' and you trying to rip my mind open, I might learn more," Harry snapped before he could stop himself.

"You still don't understand," Snape sighed, "You wear your heart on your sleeve. You are ruled by your emotions. You are no more suited to Occlumency than your classmate Longbottom is to potion making."

"It's just...hard. I can't pretend that I'm perfectly calm when I'm not. And anyway, I blocked Voldemort out by doing the opposite," Harry said, confused. "If I tried to repress my emotions, it didn't work, but if I focused on...happier memories, it seemed to...repel him."

"Repelling a person from your mind and blocking them are two different things, Potter," Snape sighed. "The Dark Lord dislikes...disliked...emotion. He was repulsed by your emotions not deceived by your shields as he should have been," he explained.

"Why can't I do that with any other Legilimens?"

"It will allow people to see your weaknesses, in this instance...anyone who appears in a pleasant memory and it will make them a target. You are not casting a patronus...If you're going to advertise your greatest secrets in an attempt to shield your mind, you might as well not bother."

"Well, then how do you do it? You feel. How can you...not?"

"It's not about feeling nothing. It's about making others think that you feel nothing."

"...There's a difference?"

"Of course there is," Snape rolled his black eyes, "Hiding your memories and your emotions doesn't change the fact that they exist...but it means they will never be used against you."

"But..."

"What worked in repelling the Dark Lord will not work on any other Legilimens. Do you need me to prove that to you?"

"Erm...no...sir," Harry muttered. Remembering their previous lessons. He knew it was true. The emotions had never forced Snape from his mind before.

"Then what do you expect me to do?" the headmaster demanded, looking over at him only to be met with pleading green eyes that were so familiar, he turned away instantly.

"Just...let me try again," Harry all but begged, "If I can't do it within...a month...I won't bother you about it again." Snape simply looked at him disbelievingly as he continued. "Okay...two weeks, just give me two weeks...if you're well enough, I mean..."

"Of course I'm 'well enough'," the man snapped quickly, "But two weeks might not be enough time...for you to master even the basics...Two years might not be enough."

"Maybe," the young wizard conceded.

Snape sighed and leant back against the sofa. "If you want to see any improvement in just a fortnight, you'll need a lesson every few nights," he remarked.

"Okay."

"At least an hour...perhaps longer."

"Fine."

"You'll need to clear your mind every night as well."

"Okay."

"If only you were this agreeable the first time I tried to teach you," Snape grumbled to himself.

"I'll...erm...try harder this time," Harry said. He knew that it if he'd had better instruction then maybe he'd have understood the discipline more, but Snape had had his own problems at the time and the man's life had been far from easy, so it was best if he didn't get angry.

"...Eight o'clock tomorrow night, Potter. Don't be late," the headmaster said without looking at him.

"Thanks, professor," Harry replied, taking that as his cue to leave.

As he was leaving he heard a quiet chuckling sound. "Not one word, Albus...that goes for you too, wolf," Severus growled but the chuckling didn't stop.

Chapter 9: 10th August 2006

DADA Assistant

10th August 2006

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, respected member of the Wizengamot and a still surprised recipient of the Order of Merlin, was sat in the Headmasters' office, his office, across from a pile of papers, staring across at Remus Lupin.

"You want an assistant?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Remus nodded.

When he'd first been hired, his wife had been his acting assistant while she and their son had been living in the castle. But as their son grew, Tonks had since found a job of her own and Teddy had gone with her. They'd been able to buy themselves a small cottage which they'd dreamt of doing since the war. But it had left Remus without an assistant and so the task of teaching his missed lessons had more often than not, fallen to Severus.

"Why?"

"Frankly, Severus, I think I need the extra help. I know you've noticed...it takes longer for me to recover every month, more than it used to. I'm old..."

"We are the same age, Lupin," Severus scoffed, "And I have just as much work as you."

"You have far more work than I do and you look younger than me anyway," Remus smiled. "I know it's because of the potions," he said quickly before the pale man could speak and, indeed, he was right.

Severus looked ten years younger than he was and for the first time in all the years that Remus had known him, the man looked healthy. The end of the war, the truth about his years as a spy becoming known despite his protests, had been good for him. It also helped that the potions he had been forced to take for years to combat Nagini's venom had long lasting, regenerative effects. There were still occasions when he needed them now, even after eight years but he wasn't nearly as dependant on them as he had been.

"This assistant," Severus began, leaning forwards, resting his arms on the desk, "I assume you have a candidate in mind."

"I do," Remus answered.

"And?"

"He suggested it actually..."

"...It's Potter, isn't it?" the dark haired man sighed.

"Yes. Did he write to you?"

"Frequently," Severus, replied, "But he made no mention of it."

"You don't write back as often as he'd like, you know," Remus commented and continued when Severus didn't reply. "Anyway, he knows how...difficult things have been for me and, well, he suggested that I get an assistant and that he could do the job."

"I thought Potter..."

"Harry," Remus interjected, but he was ignored.

"Would have preferred to remain as head of the Auror Office."

"I think part of him still does but, well, ever since Albania..." he trailed off.

Three months ago, Harry and two other Aurors had been tracking some Neo-Death Eaters as they had been dubbed; people who for some reason, chose to mimic the activities and ideals of the original Death Eaters. Harry had been badly wounded. He'd spent a month in hospital and almost lost his left arm, as it was, he'd been extremely lucky to have kept it.

"I think he wants something...safer," Remus said quietly. It wasn't the first time that Harry had been injured because of his work, but this had been the worst one.

"He does recall that his formative years here could hardly be considered 'safe'."

Remus gave a small smile, "I'm sure he does. But things are different now," he said.

"Hmmm," the man's lip twitched a little.

"Here," Remus said, placing a tightly bound scroll on the desk, "The paperwork," he explained.

Severus looked away and caught the eager blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore's portrait who'd moved to one of the others paintings around the room so that he could see Snape's reactions better, even though the younger man kept looking away from him.

"I will see what, if anything, can be done about the Wolfsbane potion," he said, standing up, his long black robes shifting elegantly around him. "Now I have a meeting to attend at the Ministry. Bring Potter here tomorrow morning, after breakfast," he added before apparating away.

Fawkes chirped as he left and went back to preening his luxurious feathers.

"How are you?" Harry asked Remus when he arrived at Hogwarts the next morning.

It was three weeks before the start of the new school year so the castle was filled with only the teachers. It was strange for him to see Hogwarts without any students in it.

"I'm...coping," Remus replied.

"Really, Moony."

"Harry, I'm fine, tired maybe, but I'm fine. You're the one who spent a month in hospital."

"Well, I'm alright now," Harry replied.

"Your arm?"

"Better," Harry nodded, flexing his left arm, "But I'm told it's a good thing I didn't go in for professional Quiddich playing. I take another bludger to the arm and...well..." he said. "I don't want Ginny and James going through it all again, they were worried sick. They hardly left the hospital the whole month."

"I know that, and also I know that you'd rather stay an Auror."

"It's not about me," Harry shook his head. "Anyway, how's...the headmaster?" he asked.

Harry never really knew how to address Severus Snape, even now. He respected the man more than anyone he'd ever met. They had infrequent, not as often as he'd like, meetings over tea or fire whiskey and chess when Severus turned up after the main event of Christmas or birthday parties too. But he didn't think it appropriate to call him 'Severus'. For one thing, he'd never been given permission, unlike every other adult he'd met who had since insisted on being called by their given name.

"Busy," Remus answered with a faint smile.

"Oh," Harry breathed.

He wrote to Snape a lot, probably too much, but he hardly ever got replies. He knew not to expect too much from the man. He was intensely solitary and private and Harry didn't think that would change. But it didn't feel right not to include him, or at least attempt to include him. He was only alive because of Snape, he had a family because of Snape, he owed everything to the man. And Snape hadn't ever asked for even a thank you in return. Not once. But Harry made sure that he knew that he was grateful.

"Lacewing Flies," Remus said to the gargoyle at the spiral staircase and they slowly ascended to the office. Just as Dumbledore had had passwords of his favourite confectionaries, the Potions Master had passwords of ingredients, it seemed only fitting.

"No!" they heard Snape cry, the door of his office slightly ajar.

"But, Severus..." Albus spoke quietly.

"No, Albus! I've done enough!" the younger man replied, angrily. "You can't keep me here forever! I seem to recall that I agreed to remain as headmaster for a year, two at the most, it's been eight years! Eight more years of my bloody, wretched life!"

"Language!" one of the portraits muttered, but was ignored.

"I never forced you to stay," Dumbledore, or rather his portrait replied kindly, "You have remained because you excel at your job and I dare say, you enjoy it. Like many who come here, some of the best years of your young life have been spent here..."

"And some of the worst!" Snape hissed.

"I seem to remember that you were here quite a lot explaining some of your worst little...pranks gone wrong," another portrait spoke with a chuckle.

"My pranks?!"

"Yes, Severus, not all of the trouble you found yourself in was in retaliation to James Potter. Or have you forgotten what happened to those pixies in your third year?"

"Pixies!" Severus repeated again, livid.

"I remember that you and Lilly..."

"You old coot! This is my future...whatever may be left of it...I'm talking about and all you want to do is remiss about my school days!"

"You always did have a tendency for the dramatic," Dumbledore said, fondly and Snape scoffed.

"Haven't I don't enough?" the younger man asked in a rare display of weakness.

"My dear boy, what will you do if you leave? Retreat to Spinner's End? To Prince Manor? Oh, but wait, you sold your house at Spinner's End didn't you, and, if memory serves, you set the money aside for..."

"Don't you ever mention that! Ever!" Snape warned.

"What? He sold his house?" Harry whispered to Remus.

"I suppose, in that case, you'll go to Prince Manor, sit alone in the dark and brood? Yes, that would be a splendid use of your talents, Severus."

"My talents," Snape hissed, "Are useless now."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"You know I didn't become a teacher because I wanted to. I was more use in one year as a spy than I ever was as a teacher in two decades."

"So you'll go back to being a spy? Who will you spy on? And if you do, it won't be easy. The wizarding world is hardly ignorant of what you did."

"Bloody Potter," Snape muttered.

"In fact, I think everyone knows what you did, you have a biography, don't you?" Dumbledore asked, happily.

"I banned that feeble excuse for a novel, at least where this place is concerned."

"A pity," the portrait replied, seriously, "I'm told it was very interesting."

"Must you..." Severus stopped suddenly and then, without warning or even the slightest noise, the door was flung wide open and he was standing there with his wand in his hand, pointed right at Harry and Remus. "Eavesdropping, Potter?" he raised an eyebrow and slowly lowered his wand.

"50 points from Gryffindor?" Harry asked, sarcastically with a small smile.

"...At least," Snape nodded, turning around with a flourish of his robes and leaving the door open for them.

"Fawkes," Harry smiled, walking swiftly over to the phoenix which rested happily on his perch.

"Apparently," Snape began as he sat behind his desk. "You want to change your career," he said to Harry.

"Apparently, so do you," the younger man replied quickly.

"...How much did you hear?"

"A bit," Harry admitted after a moment. "I didn't know you sold your house in Spinner's End," he said.

"I wasn't using it," Snape shrugged.

"What about Prince Manor?" he asked curiously.

He'd only ever seen it a handful of times, but the splendour and warmth of Prince Manor was simply stunning. Severus said that it was a depressing place, but Harry disagreed. It was beautiful, probably twice as old as as Malfoy Manor and as such, it had been hidden from the Death Eaters during the years of war. And of course, Severus Snape had been disowned from the Prince family line at birth because of his mother's marriage to a muggle. But, with no other living member of the family, the house and its wealth had finally gone to Severus.

"Never you mind," Snape said, menacingly, but Harry hadn't been scared of him in many a year. Not since he'd seen the broken shell of a man in a memory, weeping as he held the dead Lily Potter in his arms, to be precise. "Lupin tells me that this assistants' job was your idea. Explain," he demanded.

"Well," Harry sighed. "I think...Remus has probably told you. This wasn't the first time I've been hurt because of my job. I put it off last time but, well, I think I've had enough excitement for one lifetime..." he trailed off.

"I see," the pale man breathed. "You realise, however, that you have no teaching qualification that justifies such an abrupt action on my part, to hire you."

"I don't have any teaching qualification, no, but I've trained Aurors."

"And that automatically justifies teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts to children?"

"Actually, I think teaching children will be harder," Harry smiled.

"Exactly. They are accident prone. They do not listen. Some don't even want to learn what you have to teach them. Aurors, I would sincerely hope, are none of those things."

"Well, I did meet one Auror a while ago and she was the clumsiest person I've ever..."

"Potter," Snape rolled his eyes. "If you want this job, you'll have to teach classes and complete a teaching course at the same time. It's not an easy option."

"You did it," Harry said.

"How do you know that?" Severus glared momentarily at Dumbledore's suddenly innocent looking portrait, suspiciously.

"It said so in...argh," he broke off when Remus kicked his foot. "I mean...erm..." Harry stammered, feeling suddenly very much like a child.

"That blasted book, wasn't it?" Snape sighed.

"...It's really not that bad," Harry told him, "James loves it. He doesn't want to hear Beedle the Bard at bedtime, he'd rather I read him 'The Man in Black'," he said, quoting the title of Snape's dreaded biography with a smile and Dumbledore chuckled. "Anyway...this isn't just...look, I've thought about this a lot. Being an Auror was what I wanted for so long but I spent most of my time here just trying to stay alive because of Dark Wizards. I don't want to spend the rest of my life catching them."

"You'd rather work for one instead," Snape said, dryly.

"You're not a Dark Wizard."

"Was all your schooling truly wasted? Do you really not know the definition of the term, especially when one is sitting right in front of you? Are you quite sure you've been head of the Auror Office for three years?"

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed, "Really. Harry, I think teaching is a wonderful idea."

"Despite my protestations, I am the headmaster here, Albus," Snape sneered in disapproval.

"Indeed you are, Severus," the old man's eyes positively glowed, "And the decision is yours."

"You are sure about this?" Severus asked Harry.

"Completely."

"I can't have even an assistant professor changing his mind in the middle of the school year."

"I won't change my mind," Harry told him, confidently.

"Fine," Snape took up a quill and quickly scrawled his spidery signature at the bottom of a long scroll. He then wordlessly spelled it dry, rolled it up and handed it to Harry. "Welcome to Hogwarts...Assistant Professor Potter," he said without emotion.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry smiled, far too used to the emotional masks of Severus Snape to take any offence as he took the scroll from him.

"You will be expected to keep the same hours as your...mentor and to teach his lessons when he is unable. It now saves me the chore of doing it myself," he said smugly.

"Of course," Harry nodded. "Where am I supposed to live? I don't suppose I'll be back in Gryffindor Tower, will I?"

"The third floor will, I think be best suited. There's always been extra accommodation for assistant professors, but they've hardly been used. The most obvious for you would be the rooms near to Lupin's and your classroom."

"There's more?"

"Naturally. There is a staff meeting in a week which you will be expected to attend. Until then...I'd advise you to familiarise yourself with Lupin's plans. I assume that you will show your assistant to his rooms," Snape turned to Remus.

"I'd be delighted, Severus," Remus stood. "And what will you do?"

"Among other things, I will need to justify hiring a new member of staff," he answered, eyeing the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

"Don't you have final say on who works here?" the werewolf asked.

"Naturally, but Albus neglected to mention the fact that the Ministry needs ten rolls of parchment for every decision made, whether it be for Hogwarts or what they themselves have for dinner every day. But I doubt they'll but up much resistance when they learn just who your assistant is," Snape said, taking a vial from his robes to place on his desk. "Your potion for the month. I imagine the taste will be worse than ever but it may improve your recovery time," he explained.

"You improved it so quickly? I only told you..."

"I am a Potions Master," Snape sighed dramatically and Remus smiled kindly.

A.N. This is set in 2006, so at most, Harry's son, James Sirius Potter is about three years old.

Chapter 10: 6th August 1998

Questioning

6th August 1998

In a large circular room, deep within the bowels of the Ministry, Severus Snape was sat in a chair, alone, facing an entire gathering of witches and wizards. There were the Heads of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aurors, and members of the Wizengamot.

At the head of the room sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, now elected Minister for Magic with a remorseful expression as he stared down at the headmaster of Hogwarts. In truth, he hadn't wanted to do this, the man was still weak and it would be a miracle if his healing throat allowed him to talk for hours on end, but ultimately, it was necessary.

"Let me make one thing absolutely clear," Shacklebolt began, authority practically dripping from his voice. "Our purpose today is not to try Severus Snape for any act that will be discussed. He has been granted a full and unquestioned pardon for his actions during the war as a spy. We are to establish the facts, for the record," he finished.

In the seats around the room, along with the Ministry officials, sat Harry beside his friends, Ron and Hermione, Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin. Despite Severus' protests, they had chosen to accompany him today.

"Did they really have to have to set this up as a formal hearing?" Hermione asked Arthur Weasley.

"Kingsley didn't want it to end up like this," he told her. "It was Severus' idea. If he reports to all the departments at once, then he won't have to do it again. And if it's done in an official way, no one can complain," he said.

"And the Veritaserum?" Harry asked, "They're treating him like a criminal."

"I know," the man sighed. "But Severus insisted. Most people in the Ministry don't believe him. I don't think he particularly cared about that but you vouched for him, Harry. There was a lot of talk that he'd hoodwinked you into saying..."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed rather loudly and all eyes turned to him, including the disapproving glare of the headmaster. "Erm...sorry," he muttered.

"Now," began a member of the Magical Law Enforcement. He was stood where Kingsley had just been sat, at the head of the room as he address the people present. "To begin, you will confirm that you are indeed Severus Tobias Snape, born 9th January, 1960 to the witch Eileen Snape, formerly Eileen Prince, and the muggle, Tobias Snape in Cokeworth, the Midlands."

"I am," Snape gave an almost imperceptibly nod. He abhorred the odious formality that the 'gathering' had started with and it did not bode well for the rest of it.

"And you have consented to be present before this assembly today as well as the administration of Veritaserum, to answer any and all questions put to you. Is that correct?"

"It is," he answered.

"And to clarify," the man continued. "This is not the first time you have been brought before this assembly. You were tried and convicted as a Death Eater in the autumn of 1981..."

"Objection!" someone from the stands shouted out, "Those charges are no longer relevant!"

"We are permitted to ask any question..." another yelled back while others loudly began to talk amongst themselves.

"Order!" Kingsley shouted, and the debating witches and wizards fell silent. Because he'd made it clear that his trust was with Severus, there was only so much he could do today and not appear biased, and though he knew that the other man was aware of that, it didn't make it any easier. "The objection is noted," he said, gravely, his eyes practically begging for Severus to forgive him, "But overruled. Continue."

His associate seemed rather smug when he heard this and he puffed out his chest like an egotistical and proud bird of prey. "To repeat the question," he said. "You were tried and convicted as a Death Eater in 1981 at the end of the first war? Is this correct?"

"It is," Snape said, biting back a rather sarcastic and snappy remark. It would do him no good here.

"And you admit that all charges made in that hearing were precise and accurate?"

"I do."

"Who's he?" Harry whispered to Mr. Weasley.

"Ministry appointed Inquisitor," the man answered, "They're supposed to ask questions proposed anonymously by the people present to hear the answers. The idea is that they're impartial in their questioning, but..."

"There hasn't been an impartial Inquisitor since before the first war," Remus finished for him.

"And...Snape knew that?"

"I don't doubt it," the werewolf said.

"Based on the testimony given by Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts, you were released after turning informer, in which capacity you remained until the end of the second war. The Ministry was never told what exactly prompted your defection, however, your reasons are known now. Will you kindly inform those present of just what those reasons were?"

"If they are known, why do I need to repeat them?" Severus asked, rightly. He was biting his lip and his hands were griping the arm rests of the chair tightly. The Veritaserum would make sure that he answered, but he was very reluctant to do so, especially with Harry listening.

"Agreed!" people nodded from their seats.

"You will repeat them, because it is the will of this court to hear it," the Inquisitor said, condescendingly. "Now answer the question."

"I was not aware," Severus remarked, gritting his teeth, "That this was a 'court' hearing."

"I was elected to ask you these questions and you are here, by your own consent to answer them. I ask you again, your reasons for your defection from the Death Eaters, what were they?"

"The Dark Lord..." Severus answered, breathing heavily, still clearly trying to resist the effects of the Veritaserum. "Planned to murder...someone," he said.

"And who was this 'someone'?"

"You know who she was!" Snape hissed, leaning forwards.

"What was her name?" the man asked again.

Snape lowered his head, his black hair obscuring his face as he growled under his breath as he heard others from the Ministry begin to protest at the questions being asked.

"Is it all going to be like this?" Harry asked Remus.

"Looks like it," he said. "I hoped that Kingsley would have been able to appoint a less...biased...Inquisitor but that's not something the Minister has a say in. Provided that he doesn't abuse his power," he added.

"This isn't fair," the younger wizard said. "It's not right," he added, watching the wizard struggle against the potion that no one could win against.

"The name," the Inquisitor pressed and Snape could resist no longer.

"...Lilly Potter..." he hissed at him, glaring at him with eyes that had frightened grown men into fleeing. The Inquisitor seemed momentarily startled certainly, but not enough to make him run in fear. More to the pity.

"And, had he not planned to murder this woman, you would not have defected?" the Inquisitor asked after a moment, much to his own embarrassment, his voice sounded shaky, almost afraid, despite the fact that he had stood his ground under that withering glare.

"I...cannot say."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know," he snarled, quietly.

"I see. So, you defected in order to protect someone but once your former master returned, you rejoined them, to spy on them of course, with ease?"

"Hardly," Snape scoffed. "I'd been living as a traitor and working for the Dark Lord's enemy for a decade. The Dark Lord liked to make it quite clear that he did not tolerate traitors."

"What did he do to traitors?"

"...It depended on the offence...and his mood."

"And your offence?"

"I was one of the many that did not attempt to find him after the end of the first war. I believed that he was dead, as we all did, until Dumbledore told me otherwise. My offences were, that as the Dark Lord's servant, I did not spend my every waking moment in an attempt to either find or revive him. I worked for the man he hated and feared above all others. And I did not keep the old ways alive," Snape answered.

"Those ways being the activities of the Death Eaters?"

"Correct."

"And your punishment?"

"Among other things, prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse which he believed would weaken my Occlumency shields and allow him access to 'enemy' secrets."

"And did it?"

"He saw nothing which I did not allow him to see."

"We can assume that what he saw convinced him of your loyalty to him otherwise, presumably, you would not be here. So, is it fair to say that he trusted you?"

"The Dark Lord trusted no one," Severus remarked.

"Throughout the trials of other Death Eaters, many believed that they had his trust and that you were a particular favourite of his," the Inquisitor said. "Is this true?" he asked.

The pale headmaster let out a derisive snort and gave a sardonic smile as he spoke. "He cut my throat and had his poisonous 'pet' bite me over twenty times," he said, "Is that favouritism?"

Remus noticed Harry smirking beside him. "He's scared of Snape," Harry muttered to him.

"Who isn't?" Ron grumbled back.

The Inquisitor let out a nervous sounding cough as he shuffled his papers, looking at them for a minute before turning his attention back to Snape.

"You became headmaster after killing Albus Dumbledore, which has been established as part of the deceased's plan. Tell us about this plan."

"I was ordered by Albus," Snape sighed, "To kill him. In doing so, I would become invaluable to the Dark Lord and I would gain control of the school.

He once more, lowered his head, ashamed of what he'd done. He did not want to be here. He didn't want to talk about this. He felt guilty enough as it was. But he didn't have a choice. Despite the fact that the Ministry, and the Wizarding public saw, as they always had, that Harry was a 'hero', because he'd vouched so publicly for Snape, even gone so far as to get him an Order of Merlin. He'd even heard rumours that he'd been controlling the 'boy who lived.'

Severus was used to being mistrusted and he knew that Harry was used to being talked about, as well. But this was different. Things could escalate further than simple rumours if he didn't act. By cooperating in this 'questioning', no matter what he was asked, it would go a long way in disapproving some of the rumours.

"He had been cursed," Severus continued. "He had little more than a year to live. It does not excuse what I did. I didn't want to do it...but I did."

"You willingly and freely admit to the murder of Albus Dumbledore?" the Inquisitor asked, and once again, the room erupted in protests.

"...I do," Snape spoke over them and they quietened on his mournful admission.

"Objection!" someone called out, standing up. "It's already been proven that the deceased ordered to be killed. No charges were brought against Severus Snape, nor will they be at any point."

"But Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the age!" another said, "And he was murdered by the very spy he'd defended!"

"Say nothing," Harry," Remus warned the young wizard. He could see that Harry was becoming increasing, and rightly, agitated. "If you defend Severus now, then it will all have been for nothing," he said.

"But..."

"He won't thank you for interrupting."

"But I can't just..."

"I killed him," Snape said, slowly. "So that someone else wouldn't have to. It was Albus' wish and his order. My soul," he sneered, "Was already marred. He wanted to save one that was not."

"Regardless of your own guilt?"

"...Yes."

"And who was this person that you were to protect?"

"I...will not...answer," Snape hissed at him, gripping the arm rests of the chair again.

He'd heard nothing to indicate that the Ministry knew of Draco Malfoy's part in the plan and though the boy had been forced into it, to save his family, he didn't want to risk it. But then, Snape had been somewhat out of touch with the the world lately. All he knew was that Lucius and Narcissa were under constant guard and wandless. Because of Narcissa's well timed lie to Voldemort, she'd managed to save her family from Azkaban but their reputations would likely never recover. He'd heard nothing to suggest that it had been Voldemort's plan to turn Draco into a murderer.

"You have no choice," he replied, raising an eyebrow at the Potion Master's resistance to the Veritaserum.

"This 'court'," Snape repeated the man's earlier description, "Does not...need...to know."

"I think it does."

"I say it doesn't!" Snape yelled at him.

Most people in the room, despite the fact that many were a good deal older than Snape, sat stock still in their seats. Though the man sitting in the middle of the room had fought for the side of the light, it was clear that he was a dark wizard. Of course, just because one was a dark wizard, it didn't make a person a bad one. Everyone knew that. The problem was, that the ones that did go bad gave the ones that didn't, a bad name. And it wasn't often that Snape raised his voice.

"The Ministry is fully aware of the identity of this person," a woman stood up. She was middle aged, thin and wearing the red robes of the Auror Division. "He has been offered immunity in exchange for abiding completely by a set of provided regulations. He is under guard and without his wand. He poses no threat. This line of questioning is redundant," she addressed the Inquisitor.

"Agreed," Shacklebolt said.

"You knew?!" Snape exclaimed, "For how long?!" he demanded, standing up.

"We are asking the questions," the Inquisitor remarked, rather put out.

"How long?" Snape asked again, his voice low and menacing.

"Since the beginning of the Death Eater trials. More than one of them told us about what was planned. The child's father pleaded guilty to all charges on the stipulation that his son not be charged," the woman, still standing, told him. "We imposed sanctions on the boy but we do not hold him responsible. We have kept this from everyone for the child's own protection."

This answer slowly seemed to pacify Snape and he gave her a nod of acknowledgment. "Continue," he commanded the Inquisitor, and the woman sat down. Snape didn't.

"At Hogwarts then," the Inquisitor said, finally, "The Carrows were appointed by You-Know-Who to utilise the school as a training ground?"

"Yes. I did not want them there," Severus answered, "But I could not refuse the Dark Lord's order."

"During their year at the school they were increasingly brutal to the students, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would."

"And how exactly would they punish the students?"

"The Cruciatus curse was widely used," Severus ground out, "But they were by no means limited to it. On several occasions, I was told that students were chained to the walls, deprived of food or forced to administer the curse themselves to other students."

"Was their 'attention' focused on any students in particular or did all at Hogwarts receive the same 'treatment'?"

"At first I believe they detested all students equally," Snape sneered. "However, those that opposed them were singled out and were to be eliminated as enemies of the Dark Lord."

"Who, in particular?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Seamus Finnigan...in short," Snape listed slowly, "All those who had been members of a...group...known as the D.A. They made it their mission to oppose me and the Carrows."

"And what did you do to this...group?"

"I had to appear to despise them, it was essential. Their hatred of me cemented my loyalty to the Dark Lord but it put them in mortal danger. While I approved of their...activities...there was only so much I could do to prevent the Carrows from killing them."

"Would they have killed them?"

"Of course. They are Death Eaters. They will not show mercy to children."

"Was any student murdered by the Carrows at Hogwarts?"

"No."

"Was there ever an occasion on which they came close?"

"...Yes."

"During the last year you, presumably, attended many of the Death Eater 'meetings'. What happened during these meetings?"

"On occasion...we were introduced to witches or wizards that the Dark Lord had 'persuaded' to join our cause. If they had any useful information, we would gather to hear it. If they didn't...or if they refused...then, more often than not, we were summoned to watch their deaths," he looked away from every set of eyes in the room and stared at a spot on the floor.

"People like Charity Burbage?" the Inquisitor asked after a minute.

"...Yes," Snape nodded, once again, letting his hair hide his eyes.

"You were present when she died?"

"I was."

"You were...friends?" he asked.

"...No," Snape answered, now standing behind the chair, leaning both hands against the back of it.

"Why 'no'?"

"I lived my life at Hogwarts for a decade with the knowledge that the Dark Lord would return. I could not risk another persons' life by being 'friends' with anyone. Once he did return and saw them in my mind, they would have been in danger. Particularly one that believed so ardently that muggles and wizards should coexist. So no, I was not, could not, be her friend. I was her colleague."

"She died in Malfoy Manor?"

"...Yes," Snape said, hanging his head.

"How?"

"I do not think..."

"Answer the question, headmaster, if you will."

"The killing curse," Snape said, quietly.

"Who cast that curse?"

"...The Dark Lord."

"You saw it?"

"Yes. We all did. He made an example of her."

"An example?"

"Of what happens to people who do not believe as he does. She was not the first. It was often his 'pleasure' to provide such a display every other week."

"Who else was present?"

"Malfoy, Dolhov, Yaxley, the Carrows, the Lestranges, Avery..." he listed.

"Did Miss. Burbage happen to see you at this meeting?" he asked and Snape gave a single, silent nod. "She spoke to you?" he asked.

"I would assume...since you're asking about it...that you already know...what she said," Snape sighed.

"Answer the question, Mr. Snape."

"She...begged me to help her. She begged me to save her. But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

Snape let out a snort of disbelief and stared up at the Inquisitor. "There was over fifteen Death Eaters present, not to mention the Dark Lord himself and Nagini. What would you have had me do? I would have been dead before I drew my wand and two decades of my life would have been for nothing."

"She was an innocent witch," someone said, standing up. It was an old man in black robes of the Magical Law Division. "And you just sat there and watched her die," he said, inciting loud protests and jeers of agreement from the others.

"Yes, I did. On that same night, I listened as Bellatrix Lestrange planned to murder her niece simply for marrying a werewolf. I actively participated in the discussion to capture Potter and then I sat and listened as the Death Eaters laughed at Charity Burbage as she was levitated over the dining table. I watched as she died...and then I sat and watched as the Dark Lord fed her to Nagini. Then I returned to Hogwarts where the students were living under the threat of torture. That was what I had to do," Snape hissed at him.

He'd begun to pace in the small space available to him, like a caged animal, his robes billowing around him, like a shadow. "If they'd seen even the slightest hesitation in me...do you have any idea what would have happened? I would have been killed instantly and Hogwarts would have been overrun with the Dark Lord's followers. Her death..." he stopped and stood still, "Was...regrettable. But then, all are...I did nothing as she died...but I assure you...nothing you say...and no punishment you can administer...will be worse than living with what I saw," he told the Inquisitor.

"Rest assured," the Inquisitor said after a moment, "There is to be no sentencing. Now...three Death Eaters managed to escape from the Aurors after the battle at Hogwarts. I assume, by now, that you are aware of this?" he asked and Snape nodded. "Rodolphus Lestrange, Walden Macnair and Samien Travers. *1 I'm told that the Aurors lost their trail two weeks ago and nothing has been found since to indicate where they are now. Any information you are willing to provide about either of these wizards will, I'm sure, prove to be most useful."

"Macnair..." Snape began, taking a deep breath. This topic was much more easy to discuss than the last, so he was grateful for the change. "Is perhaps the weakest of the three. But Travers...and Lestrange particularly, are both far more volatile. They were amongst the most loyal and fanatical of the Dark Lord's supporters. Both willingly searched for him after the first war," he said.

As he spoke, he stalked about the room again, talking as though he were giving a lesson and the people around him were listening as intently as first year students. Though, of course, for different reasons. "Travers and Lestrange were high in the Dark Lord's ranks because of their loyalty and to get there you must be ruthless. We were encouraged to compete with one another. No Death Eater was ever loyal to another," he said. "I would almost guarantee it that before the month is out, one of them, probably McNair, will be found...dead," he added.

"And why is that?" the Auror asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Because he is a liability. If he is not dead already, I would be very surprised. Since they are running, they won't have time to dispose of the body so it shouldn't be too difficult to find. As for the other two...I would suggest...that until they are found, that precautions be taken to protect those who fought against the Death Eaters. In the meantime, it would be wise to have someone keep watch over the muggle news."

"Why?" the Inquisitor asked.

"They may not chance a...mass killing, yet...but a death here or there wouldn't raise too much suspicion in our world. A mysterious death in a small village with no signs of violence on the body is likely to get the muggles' attention, though."

"So...you would have us wait until they murder a muggle?" the Auror asked.

"Well, madam," he replied with a sneer, "Their trail has been lost. There aren't enough Auror's to search the entire country. But they have a few rather obvious targets likely to draw them out...Mr. Potter, of course, the Minister, and myself. I don't believe that they could breech the wards at Hogwarts now but considering the fact that both myself and Mr. Potter have been resident there for some time, it's still surprising that they haven't tried."

"To breech the wards? But you said that they couldn't," the Inquisitor said.

"No, and I don't think they could. It took an army of Death Eaters to break through them the first time and there is only three of them. But they must know by now that I betrayed them. I was always regarded with suspicion and the though of killing a traitor and the one who rid them of their master, would be too much of an opportunity to pass up."

"They wouldn't risk going near Hogwarts, surely," someone remarked, "No one with half a brain..."

"I never said that any of them was particularly clever," Snape interrupted.

"Based on what you've said," an Auror spoke, "Our best bet would be to use either you or Mr. Potter to catch these men."

"Mr. Potter has surely done enough," another Auror said.

"Agreed," Kingsley spoke, "It's the Auror office's job to catch these men. The headmaster and Mr. Potter are not to be involved."

Three hours later, the room emptied and Severus had fallen into the chair around which he'd interchanged between pacing, sitting and leaning against, all day. He was exhausted.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Kingsley said as he approached the tired man, "You know I didn't want to do this."

"You've said," Snape muttered.

"It could have waited," the Minister told him.

"No, it couldn't," he replied, pushing himself up. His hands were shaking and he did his best to conceal the fact but he wasn't sure if it was because he was cold or just overly tired.

"Well...either way, it's done," Kingsley sighed, "I'm not sure how much it'll change but it was good of you to agree to it."

Snape scoffed quietly and turned away without another word. It was his intention to Floo back to his office at Hogwarts and then to most likely collapse on his bed and sleep for a week.

"Professor," Harry called after him.

"...What, Potter?" Snape stopped his slow walk but didn't turn around. He could hardly face them after they'd heard his entire confession.

"Where...erm...are you going back to Hogwarts?" the young wizard asked.

"Where else would I go?"

"Severus, come back to the Burrow with us," Arthur suggested, kindly, "A warm fire and something to eat'll do you the world of good."

"I..." Severus shook his head with his eyes closed. "No, Arthur," he muttered.

"Molly'll be happy to see you," the red head added but Snape shook his head again. "Well...if you're sure," he pursed his lip.

"You shouldn't have come," the headmaster told them and walked away, not giving any of them a chance to speak again.

"Didn't really expect a 'thank you' did you?" Ron asked Harry with a sigh.

"No," his friend answered.

*1 I don't think Travers' first name is ever mentioned, he's always just called 'Travers' so I made one up. If it is actually mentioned and I've missed it, let me know.

Chapter 11: 9th August 1998

Decisions

9th August 1998

As much as he'd have liked to stay in bed for a week after his 'trial', for such as it really had been despite the Ministers' reluctance to call it that, Severus knew that he couldn't. He simply had too much to do. He'd slept for over two days straight after it in an almost catatonic state thanks to his unadvisable overuse of 'dreamless sleep' potion. It was only a few hours ago that he'd dragged himself out of bed, before sunrise, to sit at his desk and forced himself to make a start on the papers that had piled up there.

First, he had responses to read from students who had answered Minerva's letters about returning for an eighth year. He'd expected many of them to be scathing replies demanding to know by what right he was even sitting in Albus' chair, let alone what made him think why anyone would want to come back. But, to his very great surprise, some did want to return and Minerva had left those letters with him, telling him to read them.

But that wasn't all he had to do.

There were Aurors around the school since the three escaped Death Eaters hadn't yet been caught and he had to be kept informed of their movements and their findings. He was also expected to keep up to date with the repairs on the castle and advise the workers on what areas to focus on. And worst of all, he had yet to hire a new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. There was little under a month left until the new term was to begin and he was still one teacher short.

They'd managed to find a new Muggle Studies professor. A middle aged man with a thin face and a habit of wearing muggle clothes called Romulus Harrington. However, no one wanted to apply for the Defence job and that came as no surprise.

Severus had one option, well technically, he had three, but two of them he refused to acknowledge and the third was just as unthinkable. The first option was that he could simply cancel the syllabus altogether, but considering that there had just been a war, people would want to know how to defend themselves in the post war paranoia. Not to mention it was one of the school's most popular classes despite the jinx on the job of teaching it.

The second option would be to teach the class himself, but that was a terrible idea. After everything he'd done in the last year, it would be better for him and the students if he was neither seen or heard. They wouldn't want him to be teaching a class and he wasn't sure that he had the energy for it anyway.

So, the only remaining option was to hire Remus Lupin. The man was a known werewolf and Severus didn't want to see him every day anyway but what other choice was there?

Albus' portrait, Minerva and Poppy had supported the idea; of course they had. But Severus hated it. He couldn't deny, however, that the man was a capable teacher and one to whom he owed a life debt. A little dramatic perhaps, he'd only caught hyperthermia, but in the state he'd been in, it was likely that it would have killed him had he not been found.

"How are you, Severus?" Albus' portrait asked him.

"That's the fifth time you've asked me," Snape muttered as he signed off another piece of parchment and laid it aside.

"Well, if you'd answered me the first time, I wouldn't have needed to keep asking, my boy, would I? I don't suppose you've noticed, but it's been two hours since I first asked you," he said, kindly.

"...I'm busy."

"Ah, I can see that, I can most assuredly see that. But a little rest might be in order, don't you think?"

"I don't have the time," the man snapped back.

"Severus, you know that I've always admired your work ethic, but this is slightly excessive, even by your standards. You've not recovered, and after what happened at the Ministry..."

"All that happened was that they asked me questions and I answered them," Severus sighed.

"And after that, you saw fit to drug yourself to sleep," Albus said, "I hate to see you like this..."

"Then don't look."

The portrait sighed deeply while Severus took up another piece of parchment from the seemingly endless pile in front of him.

An hour or so later, he was cajoled into eating breakfast when Minerva placed a tray of food on his desk, obscuring his papers with a charm that would only be removed once the food was gone.

Once he was finished and finally able to move the tray he shook his head and sighed at the smug look on her face. "If you keep this up, I'll have you charged for insubordination," he told her.

"I'd like to see you make that charge stick," she chuckled.

A nonchalant attitude was the method of disguising her concern that she'd adopted in regards to Severus. He didn't much care for people fussing over him and he was likely to respond to such treatment with hexes and cursed if he had the energy. But sarcasm and wit were things that he knew how to deal with.

"So," she began after a minute. "Because I know you won't listen, I won't rattle on about how foolish it was to take so much dreamless sleep potion on top of the medications you're already taking..."

"How generous," he muttered.

She'd been waiting for him two nights ago when he'd returned from the Ministry and she'd seen him stumble into his office. She had to help him to his bedroom because he'd almost fallen over twice. Minerva had wanted to be there with him when he was questioned but he'd assured her that the running of Hogwarts was more important. So, she'd sent Remus and Arthur and she got the feeling that he wasn't happy about it.

"So, I'll settle for asking if you've decided on a Defence professor since you've been so busy all morning," she said, glancing at the papers on his desk.

"...You want me to hire Lupin...don't you?"

"Will you? It's not like we have any other options and I'm sure that Remus would appreciate it."

"The Ministry..."

"You care as little about the Ministry's opinions about as much as I do," Minerva scoffed.

"It's not their opinions I was going to talk about, it was their laws," Severus remarked.

"Laws? Severus, really, I don't think they'll stop you from hiring a man who fought against You-Know-Who to teach Defence. It's either Remus or a Ministry appointed professor and we all remember how well that went last time."

"...It won't be another...person...like her."

"Can you be sure?"

"You just want me to hire the werewolf," he snapped, quickly.

"Three more students say they'll return next month," Minerva remarked. "Did you read their letters?" she asked and he nodded. "That makes forty now. I can't help but wonder just where they're all going to live."

"It's a castle," he remarked, "There's plenty of room."

"They can't possibly stay in their house dormitories. There's isn't the room there. And what about Quidditch? Should they be allowed to participate?"

"You would ask that," Severus rolled his eyes.

"It's a very important issue, Severus," she insisted with a smile.

"The pitch is still...unusable," he replied. The stands on the pitch, like everything else, had been damaged when the wards had been shattered and it wasn't classed as a priority to repair.

"Once everything else is finished we can focus on the Quidditch pitch. Surely giving the students a sense of normality would be a wise idea."

"Quidditch is not the be all and end all."

"You know, I often think you would have been rather good at it if you'd ever tried," she smirked.

"...I don't...like brooms."

"I don't think they much liked you, either," Minerva scoffed, remembering his school days. He'd been infamous for his dislike of brooms but of course, for many years he hadn't needed one anyway.

"We may as well let them play if they want to," he sighed. The students had been deprived of enough in the last year and he'd been cruel enough to them to last a lifetime. They'd earned his consideration. "I'll make sure the pitch is finished on time," he assured her.

She gave him an appreciative nod before she continued, "And...Defence? What will you do?"

"...You're not going to give me a minute's peace about this, are you?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course not."

"Fine," Severus sighed deeply, "You win...I'll hire the wolf."

Chapter 12: 1st August 1998

A Terrible Idea

1st August 1998

Severus was stood leaning over the pensive in his darkened office. He'd long since removed all of his predecessors memories from it and replaced them with his own in a failing attempt to keep his own mind clear. The faces that stared back at him from the watery smoke didn't help.

"It's a terrible idea," Shacklebolt told him, frankly.

"You have a better one?" he asked with a barely concealed sigh.

"...No," the Minister admitted, sadly. "But I still don't like it," he said.

"You won't keep your office very long if you don't take this seriously. I don't imagine you've done yourself any favours in giving a known Death Eater an Order of Merlin. I wasn't tried for my crimes, if I am, it might help..."

"I'm not going to put you on trial, Severus," Kingsley said, firmly.

"You don't have a choice."

"I don't care what's said about me and I didn't intend to become Minister for Magic anyway."

"What about what's said about Potter then?" Snape asked, shrewdly. "You're not an idiot, I know you've heard the rumours too."

"Ah," the man gave a sheepish smile, "I'd hoped you hadn't...I mean, you've hardly left this room, I didn't expect you to have heard about...that." Snape raised an eyebrow at him, as though in disbelief. "My mistake, clearly," the Minister chuckled.

"Clearly," the dark haired wizard muttered back, "So what did you plan on doing about it if not this?"

"Honestly, there's not a lot I can do," he admitted.

"Does Potter know?"

"I haven't had the chance to tell him but someone else might've."

"Then you'll have to set this up as quickly as possible, preferably before he does something stupid. Make it as official as possible," Severus told him. "The Wizengamot, the Aurors, Magical Law Enforcement...and whoever else you can think of," he shrugged.

"Is that really necessary?" Kingsley asked but an exasperated glare from Severus made him think twice. "Alright, alright," he relented, "It might take some time though," he said.

"No more than a week," Severus said after a slight nod.

"It won't be a trial," the Minister insisted.

"It needs to be."

"Well, it won't," Kingsley insisted.

"We'll see," Severus said, stubbornly.

Chapter 13: 1st September 1998

The Feast

1st September 1998

It was a determined deputy headmistress who paced before the headmasters' desk with Remus Lupin beside her. Severus himself, was standing up on the mezzanine, holding a book in his hands as he occasionally glanced down at them.

"Severus, the students will be here soon," Minerva said, "The sorting will begin in less than half an hour."

"I know," he replied, simply.

"They'll expect you to be there," she said.

"No, they won't."

"We can't have a sorting ceremony without the headmaster," Lupin remarked.

"All the better for them if I am not there," he told them. He turned a few pages in his book and after a silent moment of deliberation, he slid it back on a shelf and took out another.

"Now, really..." Minerva sighed.

"Remus is right, Severus," Albus' portrait said, "Surely you have seen enough of this office these last few weeks to last a lifetime. You told me, quite emphatically, that you would remain as headmaster..."

"For a year or two, that's all," Severus said, quickly. "As soon as all of the repair work is done, when everything is fixed, I'll leave. I don't need to give speeches or be at the sorting to do that."

Severus remembered very clearly having said those very words about an hour ago and yet here he was, sat at the centre of the teachers' table with Minerva on his right and Remus to his left.

He'd been sipping rather frequently from a goblet of fire whiskey but that had been banished in favour of much less harmful pumpkin juice. The last thing he needed to do was embarrass himself on the first day and become known as the 'drunken Death Eater of Hogwarts' when 'Bat of the Dungeons' was more than sufficient.

As each of the new students walked up to sit on the small stool where Minerva had stood with the sorting hat, they'd regarded him with varying expressions of fear. But he supposed that he should count his blessings; it was a miracle that parents had sent their children to Hogwarts at all, especially considering the many letters of disapproval he'd received from them.

He'd begun the feast once the sorting was over with a wordless snap of his fingers and the food had appeared. Overall, the mood had changed dramatically after that, no one could stay miserable at the Hogwarts feast.

"It's almost over, Severus," Minerva told him, consolingly as she gently patted his forearm.

Personally, Severus would have preferred a Death Dater meeting to this torture. The students knew that he was the headmaster, they knew where his office was and what he looked like, why did he need to show his face at the feast? Maybe he was in over his head.

"Something wrong?" Remus asked him, noticing that he'd hardly touched his food.

Severus only sent him a silent glare but this didn't seem to bother the other wizard in the slightest as he generously filled up the headmaster's goblet. "What are you planning to do about the speech?" Remus asked him and this time, Severus couldn't disguise his grimace.

"Honestly, Severus," Minerva sighed at his side, "It won't be that bad."

"Then you do it," he replied and Remus snorted into his goblet.

"Alright," she gave him a sympathetic smile, "You've done more than enough."

Snape looked at her in shock, he genuinely hadn't expected that kind of reaction. He was even more surprised when she went to stand up. "You're going now?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she answered, "We can't keep the students here all night, can we?"

Before she stood up, Severus sighed dramatically, pushed himself up and made his way to the podium. Minerva shared a confused look with Remus while the students' chatter died down immediately.

Severus knew he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't give the speech and he'd probably be branded a coward again; a coward who couldn't even address a hall full of children. But he also had no idea of what to say. He'd spent years weighing his words so carefully that it influenced his every thought. He'd never dreamt of going in blind, like he was doing now.

If it was Albus, he'd no doubt give a warm speech with his usual smile and twinkling blue eyes, but he wasn't Albus. He didn't have much to smile about and his eyes didn't seem capable of doing anything other than glaring.

As he neared the podium, it seemed to take an age to get there, he could feel the eyes of hundreds of students, all staring at him and it was very unnerving. He'd spent his life trying to be inconspicuous. His childhood had been spent trying to blend in. His young adulthood had been spent trying to disappear into the shadows and now here he was stepping into the proverbial lime light. He wasn't meant for this and he was too old to change.

The owl on the podium spread its great wings as he stood behind it and decided to focus on the closed doors at the end of the Great Hall rather than on the students themselves.

"No doubt," he began, "You're all as surprised to see me as I am to see all of you, however, I'll keep this as brief and as painless as possible," he said, deciding to stick to the facts rather than trying at niceties. "Now, I'd rather hope that none of you are unobservant enough to have not noticed that you were accompanied on the train by several Aurors. They are here for your protection and they are to remain here until the Ministry says otherwise."

"Why?" someone very bravely shouted out as the other students began talking amongst themselves.

Severus didn't see who it was but his lip twitched, threatening to smirk at the brave, or stupid student.

"Because," he began, silencing the entire hall with only a single word. "There are two Death Eaters who could very well be roaming the forest as we speak," he said and he could practically feel the disapproval of the professors from behind him.

Many would doubtlessly disapprove of him telling the students that, but it was still making headlines that two Death Eaters were at large. There wasn't a single person in the country that didn't know, which made it even more surprising that they'd managed to evade capture for so long.

"Therefore," Severus continued, authoritatively, "The Dark Forest remains off limits. No student is to wander the grounds or the castle after dark and no one...is to take it upon themselves to usurp an Auror's job...No exceptions," he added, glancing at Harry and his friends in particular. "As per the Ministry's wishes, I am to introduce you all to Madame McElroy," he said, turning back to see the young woman stand up from where she sat at the teachers' table. She had her dark hair pinned back and she wore a simple white shirt, a pencil skirt and a long wizards robe. "She is here, as you are all aware, at the request of the Ministry for...all who wish to...talk," he said, not bothering to hide the fact that he was clearly not one of those people.

He'd been against the idea of having a psychologist at the school. It had simply never been done. Surely it was better for the children to get on with their lives than to rake up the past. But, he'd been outvoted and so he was forced to play host to this woman who clearly wasn't keen on the idea of a Death Eater running the school. At least she was polite and as long as she continued to keep out of his way, perhaps it wouldn't be as irritating as he feared.

The hall had erupted at the announcement and though they had all been told beforehand that the school was to have a psychologist, none seemed eager at the idea. Perhaps that would change.

Psychology wasn't particularly wide spread among the magical community, it reminded people too much of the dangers of Legilimency. If you were willing to discuss your innermost thoughts and feelings with another person, it could weaken any natural mental defences and make it even easier for someone to force their way into your mind. Luckily, this wasn't the case with Madame McElroy as she was a squib.

"Silence," Severus said in a voice little louder than a whisper but, as it always had been, it was enough.

After he'd introduced Professor Harrington who was to teach Muggle Studies, 'welcomed back' Professor Lupin and told them that Hagrid was to teach Care or Magical Creatures, he'd exhausted what little he had to say.

Severus snapped his fingers and the huge doors opened silently, "Prefects, if you would," he said before he himself turned and left the Hall via the smaller door at the side of the teachers' table.

Harry yawned as he settled in his four poster bed. Across the room from him, Ron and Neville sat up in their own beds, the former looking over Harry's magical map and the latter, reading a book.

"You really think this'll be a normal, quiet year?" Ron asked him, "I've been waiting years for one of those."

"Don't know," Harry answered, honestly, "What's one of those, anyway?" he asked and Ron snorted.

"Hey, at least you can play Quidditch, right?" the red head remarked.

"So can you," Neville Said. Harry had been happily surprised when he learned that Neville chose to return to Hogwarts after everything that had happened. His friend had been mostly quiet throughout the train ride and the feast so he was understandably concerned, as was Ron..

"Yeah, maybe I will," Ron shrugged.

"Hermione' cheer for you," Harry muttered, shrewdly and Ron blushed a deep red that put his hair to shame.

"Knock it off, Harry," he grumbled, tossing a goblet from his nightstand at his friend who dodged it with impressive speed. "Y'think anyone'll have a 'talk' to that psycho woman?" Ron asked a minute later and Harry scoffed.

"She's a psychologist, Ron, not a psycho woman," he corrected.

"Whatever."

"...I might," Neville admitted, quietly.

"Really?" Ron asked, "But..."

"I think that's a great idea, Neville," Harry said before Ron could say more. "There's nothing wrong with talking about what happened. That's why she's here," he said.

"Yeah..." Ron reluctantly agreed after Harry shot him a patient glare. "Right...that's why she's here," he repeated. "I just think playing Quidditch'll help more," he muttered to himself.

Later that night, Severus was alone in his office when Madame Circe McElroy knocked at the door. He wasn't in the mood for guests so he ignored the loud knocking sound but she let herself in anyway.

"Headmaster," she greeted him, cheerily, closing the door behind her.

"It's rather late, Madame," he told her.

"This won't take long," she assured him and sat down in front of him.

Severus took a deep breath and set down his quill with more force than was strictly necessary, and then reluctantly looked across at her. "Then by all means," he said, waving a pale, dismissive hand. "I hope this isn't a professional visit," he added.

"I'm not a fool," she declared, "I know you don't want me here. You've made that clear but I'm used to that, you see. I'm not here to cause you trouble, I'm here to help the students...and the teachers."

"Well, as you saw, the students were delighted," he remarked, dryly and she smiled.

"They always are," Circe told him. "I don't expect many of them to speak to me straight away. Most wizarding children probably won't even know what I do. It's going to take some time," she said.

"I'm aware of that."

"I know you don't approve."

"I made no secret of it," he said, frankly.

"And I don't expect you to be a regular visitor to my office, either," she said.

"What a relief," Severus replied and saw the disapproving blue eyes of Albus staring down at him.

"But, in my professional opinion, the people who think they don't need to talk are usually the ones that needs it the most," Circe told him, much to his annoyance.

"...Anyone who decides to speak to you will be doing so voluntarily," Severus glared. "You won't need to make office calls," he said, flicking his dark eyes to the door in a silent dismissal.

"Of course," she replied, and stood up. "Goodnight, headmaster," she said, leaving him alone.

"That wasn't very polite of you, Severus," Albus remarked once she was gone, but he just scoffed and picked up his quill again.

Chapter 14: Late December 1998

Once A Piano Tuner, Always A Piano Tuner

Late December 1998

Arthur and Molly Weasley were, without a doubt, some of the kindest people that Severus had ever met, of course, he'd met with very little kindness in his life so they weren't up against much competition, but still, the sentiment was true.

He'd never spent too much time in their company over the years for fear that he'd eventually succumb to their niceties and for a spy, that would have been unacceptable. But he wasn't a spy anymore, as people we so fond of reminding him. And it was Christmas. A time for obnoxious decorations that hurt his eyes and nauseating sentimentality that he never fully understood. In fact, it was just a few days before Christmas and that night, he was sat in front of the Weasley's roaring fireplace across from Arthur, Molly, Remus and Nymphadora.

It was dangerously close to a social call and it still put the headmaster on edge. He'd learned that even before he was a spy that he didn't do well in social situations. But these people didn't seem to mind. They'd not forced him to come, in fact they'd asked very politely and he'd accepted. He wasn't quite sure why.

He'd just about managed to keep track of the conversation between Remus and Arthur about a grand piano that had been stuffed into the already cramped room. Apparently it had been kept in the attic and brought down for Christmas but it most emphatically did not belong to Arthur himself.

"No, no," Arthur laughed. "I could never get the hang of it meself. It's Molly's...well it was her grandmother's. Left it to her a few years ago but we never got round to getting it...fixed or whatever it is you do to a piano. The thing sounds like a banshee," he said, glancing at his wife.

"I always meant to get it tuned," Molly shrugged. The truth was that money had always been so tight, she'd not thought an old piano as important as buying the children their school books and robes. "I asked a friend a few months ago...said he'd come round if he wasn't too busy and I was hoping we'd get it done before Christmas. But it won't do it any harm to wait another year," she said. "You don't mind moving it again, do you, dear?" she said to Arthur.

"Course not," the man answered, very convincingly.

"I could," Snape began quietly, "Tune it for you," be offered. That was what you did for people who tried to be nice to you wasn't it? You helped them?

"You could?" Molly's eyes lit up, putting their glistening festive tree to shame. She seemed less surprised at the fact that he somehow, knew how to tune a piano, than she was thrilled at the prospect of getting the instrument fixed.

Severus said nothing but he nodded and finished the last of the third, very generous glass of red wine that he'd been given. "So...you play?" the red headed witch asked and watched as he gave a slight nod again. "I never knew," she said.

"I doubt any one did," Remus gave a small smile.

The wizard placed his empty glass on a table and began to regret saying anything when it had been the catalyst for everyone to stare at him so curiously. He decided to make an escape before someone made a move to pour him a fourth glass.

"I'll look at it tomorrow," he said, standing up.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Molly smiled, gently hugging the man who still reacted just as stiffly to human contact as he always had. "Thank you, Severus," she said, letting him go.

Without another word he left, walking out into the garden to the edge of the wards and then he was gone.

The next morning he was sure that he'd made a mistake. Yes, he could play the piano and, yes, he could tune one as well, but it had been a while since he'd done either. Had it been his accursed social ineptitude, the three glasses of wine, or a inexplicable desire to prove himself useful even through he knew he'd outlived that usefulness, which had made him say anything at all?

In his youth, Severus, like many children who lived in Spinner's End, had been forced to work while most other children were learning to read and write or playing in the streets. Of course, he'd been an avid reader by then anyway so his parents had 'encouraged' him to work. His father had been a poorly paid miner and despite the laws, Tobias had taken his son down the mines to work at the age of six. He hadn't been the only one. So by the time he was ten, Severus had already been a seasoned miner and because he'd been so small, he'd also taken to pick pocketing. Tobias didn't care what he did as long as the boy brought him enough money for his beer and his foul smelling cigarettes.

His father had led a very simple life; home, work, pub. That was it. But out of the three, the pub had been Tobias' favourite. It had also been Severus' too for when Tobias was there, he wasn't forcing his son down the mine. True, he'd been a terrible drunk but anything was better than the pit.

It had also been the home of a brilliant pianist. The man had, at the time, been the oldest person that Severus had ever met and he too had been a terrible drunk but he'd had prodigious musical talent. In exchange for a few stolen coins each week, the old sailor had taught the boy the basics and found that he'd been a quick learner. When the man died; alcohol poisoning, the lessons had stopped but it had been shortly after that when he'd met Lilly Evans.

On his first visit to her parents' house, Mr. and Mrs. Evans had offered to teach him again. Her father had once tuned pianos for a living and her mother played even better than the old drunk had. She'd been overjoyed at the prospect of an eager student when neither of her daughters had been interested in learning and she'd taught him to play more than just off kilter sea shanties. On more than one occasion, he'd accompanied Mr. Evans when he'd journeyed out of the neighbourhood to fix a piano. Once a piano tuner always a piano tuner, he'd said. At the time, Severus had just been thrilled to leave Cokeworth as he'd never before even been in a car.

Then of course, he and Lilly had their...falling out. Then everything had changed. Her parents had tried to understand but after a while they'd stopped and Severus never saw them again.

He'd kept an old, battered upright piano in his house when he'd chanced upon it one night after a Death Eater raid and he'd tuned it himself. He still played it on occasion but that hardly made him an expert. Something told him that neither Molly nor Arthur would hex him if he made a mistake, but pottering around with a piece of second hand rubbish he'd scavenged wasn't quite the same as tuning a priceless heirloom.

When Severus arrived at the Burrow it was clear that breakfast had already been served but he considered that a stroke of good fortune. Molly still fussed over how 'thin' he was and frequently gave him meals large enough to feed her entire family. She'd discovered that he had a particular liking for scones and after everything he'd survived, it seemed rather laughable that 'death by scone' was how he was going to go if she got her way.

She greeted him as enthusiastically as ever as she looked up from the magically cleaning breakfast dishes in the sink. Clearly she noticed that he, as usual, was uneasy and perhaps she even noticed his nervousness and her answer was one that he was coming to know a little too well.

"Have a scone, dear," she said, handing him a plate with a large buttered scone filled with raisins. It smelt divine and he simply couldn't refuse, though of course, he tried.

After that, he and Molly lifted the lid on the piano and on seeing his slight grimace, she sighed. "It's...pretty bad, isn't it? I should've warned you," she lamented, "I'm no expert but...it needs more than tuning, doesn't it?"

It was a mess, there was no question. Any muggle would have had to charge a fortune to fix it but magic would help and he didn't plan on charging for his time. It looked as though at some point, one of the Weasley's cats had lived in the instrument and perhaps even the garden gnomes had cohabited, too. There was broken pieces of Merlin only knows what lodged in the delicate workings of the piano as well. It was no wonder Arthur said it sounded like a banshee. It was a wonder that it made any kind of noise at all.

"It could...take a while," he confessed.

"If you can't..." she began with a kind smile.

"I can try."

Three hours later, Arthur was sure the only thing keeping Severus going was sheer stubbornness. The man was famously stubborn. The pale wizard had pulled out a miles' worth of cables from Arthur's beloved muggle paraphernalia collection, though the red head had denied any knowledge of how they'd got there. He'd also removed several broken plugs, of which, again the man had no knowledge, as well as enough cat hair to stuff a pillow, a small book and some stones.

He'd long since been forced to remove his outer robe as well as his frock coat since they just hindered his movement, his cravat was loose around his lightly bandaged neck, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows with his left forearm, now perpetually wrapped in another bandage to hide the Dark Mark. He was surrounded by small, crumb covered plates and empty mugs of tea, courtesy of Molly of course. And by now he had an audience as well.

Young Teddy Lupin was playing on the floor with the cables he'd removed from the piano, apparently the boy found them quite fascinating and his parents seemed to find the sight of Severus working even more so. Harry and Ginny were there too though he had no idea why. He could understand why Molly and Arthur were there; to watch over her precious heirloom, naturally, but the others? Did they just enjoy making him nervous? That must be it.

"So...where did you learn to tune pianos, Severus?" Molly asked him, holding out a plate of biscuits which he politely declined. He worried that if he ate any more biscuits he'd keel over.

"...A neighbour," he answered after lightly blowing some of his hair off his face as he leaned over the inner workings of the instrument. He'd had to tie it back after the third time it had fell over his face and obscured his vision, making work impossible. This, for some reason, had amused his audience.

"And...they taught you to play, as well?" she asked, curiously.

"Different neighbours," Severus said, cursing aloud suddenly and almost growling at something that only he could see in the piano.

He leaned over even further and emerged triumphantly a second later holding a small, broken piece of mirror which Molly sheepishly took from him so he could continue his work.

"Oh, what were they like?" she asked him, some would argue, bravely.

He stared at her with his piercing onyx eyes but she seemed unmoved by the stare that had frightened even grown men into fleeing. So, he rolled those infamous eyes and sighed as he turned his attention back to the task at hand. "One," he began, "Was a chronic alcoholic I met in pub as a boy, but...the other two were...quite different," he said.

"A pub?" Arthur repeated.

"Even drunks need entertainment," Severus shrugged.

"No, I mean," the man shook his head, "How old were you? Why were you in a pub when you were a child?"

"Clearly you've never been to Cokeworth," the dark haired man muttered as he worked.

"And...erm...the other two you mentioned?" Remus asked, cleverly changing the subject.

"A barber and a green grocer," Severus said. Mr. Evans had become a barber after his piano tuning business had failed to provide enough for his family and his wife had opened a shop. He wasn't going to mention names because then Potter would start with his questions and he'd never get a moment's peace.

"Sounds like a bad joke," Tonks remarked before she could stop herself but to her relief, the headmaster just shrugged again and didn't look back to glare at her.

"I never wanted to learn when I was young," Molly confessed.

"Children rarely do," Severus remarked, prompting many a quiet snort.

"But my grandmother wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," the woman added, "I had to have a lesson every day when I wasn't at school. I suppose if I had her portrait anywhere she'd never forgive me for letting her piano get in this state."

"I've seen worse," he told her.

"Really?" Molly asked shrewdly and he nodded.

"Yours is in one piece," he said. He had after all, pulled his own small piano out of the remains of a Death Eater raid on a muggle house. There'd been little left of it and it had taken months to piece it all back together. But fortunately, necessity had forced him to become adept at mending things that most people thought beyond repair or he never would have had anything.

Another hour and a half later, Severus finally laid down his wand and scrubbed a hand through his hair. It was cleaner than it had ever been since he wasn't leaning over bubbling cauldrons all day. Despite what people thought, his hair had only ever been such a mess because of his occupation, it was a problem to all Potioneers but he'd never cared much about his appearance anyway. Well, except for one thing, at least. He pulled down his left sleeve, aware that the useless bandage had started to reveal the Mark, and sat at the old piano stool.

He then realised he had no idea of what he should play. He didn't need to play anything much, all he needed to do was run through the scales and check to see that all the keys sounded as they should. But it was a beautiful instrument and no one was really paying any attention to him anymore. Perhaps the novelty had worn off since they seemed to be talking amongst themselves rather than watching his every move.

Severus decided to try his luck, he gently tapped a few keys and when they sounded perfectly, albeit quietly, he tried another and another. Then, before he knew it, he'd jumped straight into playing one of the first little shanties he'd learned to play. It started just as energetic and raucous as it ended and he could see, as clear as day, the old man sat beside him, singing drunkenly in his ear as his father pranced around on unsteady legs. *1

It was clearly not the classical music that Molly's beloved grandmother had wanted her to learn so desperately, nor was it the more popular modern music that Mrs. Evans had taught the young Severus but it was what he was most comfortable with. He hated classical music. He always had even though Albus had frequently told him how 'spectacular' it was. He'd been born and raised in a deprived muggle neighbourhood amidst people who had little need or use for such music. So neither did he. The drunken shanties he'd learned as a child had saved him from more than one beating from his father; classical music would certainly not have done that.

Once the song was finished, Severus looked up and saw that to his horror, all eyes were on him so he stood quickly, straightening his cravat and buttoning his cuffs up. He snatched up his frock coat and with the agile grace of a dancer, he escaped from the piles of plates, mugs, cables and everything else, without tripping or knocking anything over despite Teddy's best efforts to the contrary.

"Severus?" Molly questioned, watching as he pulled on his coat, effortlessly as he searched around for his outer robe.

"Where is my robe?" he demanded.

"The erm...the cat got at it," she told him, nervously, "I did tell you, but you were...well, in any case, it won't be ready for another ten minutes or so."

He raised an eyebrow but he found no reason to disbelieve her; he was often unreachable when he was working. One minute he could be perfectly lucid and the next, it would be impossible to get a word out of him because he simply didn't hear anything that anyone said.

"Ah," he sighed with a frown.

He suddenly flinched when he felt something latch onto his right ankle and from long habit, his wand was in his hand in an instant and a vile curse on the tip of his tongue as he looked down at the floor. It was Teddy and he seemed to feel no fear towards the Death Eater whose shoe was he currently unlacing. The curse died on his lips and he lowered his wand as he tried to extricate the child from his foot. But Teddy was clingy.

He slid his wand in his sleeve and knelt down to remove the child but when he did so, the boy started to cry. When he stopped trying, Teddy stopped crying. He tried again and the child's wide eyes filled with tears so Severus sighed, heavily. Really, it was ludicrous, all the terrible things he'd done and a child's ridiculous tears were somehow like daggers attacking his cold heart.

The headmaster tried to untangle the laces from the small hands which clutched them but each time he did, Teddy just grabbed them again and the child's parents couldn't stop laughing.

"Will you kindly stop laughing and get this urchin off my foot?" Severus snapped at them.

"Urchin?" Remus repeated, snorting, "He's just a child, Severus."

"A child which had taken an annoying interest in my shoe. Do you not provide him with shoes as he finds them so fascinating?" he scowled then looked down at the boy again. "And will you stop that?" he muttered when Teddy started to mess with the laces of his other shoe happily.

"Come on, Teddy," Tonks chuckled, leaning over to pick up her son. But the boy started to cry again when she moved him. "He really likes them, headmaster," she told him after putting the boy back down to stop his crying.

"Obviously," Snape drawled, "Now, how exactly do you propose that I escape...preferably without sacrificing my shoes to your infant?"

"...Wait till he falls asleep?" she suggested and laughed sheepishly when he scowled at her. "Or...you know, or not...erm...Moony...little help?" she whispered to her much amused husband.

Remus joined his wife in trying to pick up their son and with his child in his arms rather than wrapped around Severus' foot, the werewolf tried to calm him down, to little avail.

Severus had been relieved at first to have been free from the clingy child and now all he wanted was for said child to stop crying. The sound of a child wailing wasn't something that even he could drown out no matter how much he tried. "I'm sorry, Severus, he just...he does this sometimes," Remus said over the crying child.

"Just make him stop," Severus replied, referring to the crying as he winced when the noise reached an impressively loud volume.

"I'm trying," the man insisted.

"Try harder."

"It's not that easy," Remus sighed, gently rocking the boy in his arms.

Harry and Ginny were trying unsuccessfully to distract Teddy with some of his toys while Ron covered his ears and Molly handed Tonks a bottle of warm milk which the boy refused.

After about a minute of non stop crying, Severus decided that his ears had suffered enough. He remembered hearing Potter's grandmother, Mrs. Evans once telling him that playing lullabies at the piano had been the only thing to lull her own children to sleep when they'd been very young. But the problem was, he didn't know any lullabies; he'd never heard any in his life. She'd never taught him because he hadn't been interested in learning any and his mother had certainly never sung him to sleep.

Somehow he ended up back at the piano playing 'Imagine' by the Beatles as softly as he could. It wasn't a lullaby but it was the closest thing he could think of and it seemed to pacify the unruly child. He stopped playing once Teddy had finally settled in Remus' arms and they were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"How did you do that?" Tonks asked him, unashamedly impressed. "You stopped his crying! Nothing ever stops him crying!" she said.

Severus himself was still shocked that it had worked and he didn't much like the expressions of disbelief and something that, were it directed at anyone else, he'd probably have called it awe.

"...Beginners luck, eh, Severus?" Arthur offered, noticing the stunned headmasters' face as the man sat still as a statue at the piano.

"That was beautiful...does this mean my son is a Beatles fan?" Remus asked quietly, smirking over at Severus. "My mother was a muggle, I know who they were," he said, "Never knew you were a fan."

"Your lack of knowledge is atrocious, Lupin," Severus scoffed. "It was not a Beatles song. It was written by John Lennon, alone, fool," he explained.

"My mistake," Remus smiled, amused.

"Beatles? Eh?" Ron muttered, looking to Harry and Hermione, both of whom were smiling.

Snape just turned away from Remus' kindly eyes and he was saved from further humiliation, or so he'd hoped, when Molly announced happily that his robe was clean. She carried it over to him and indeed it was cleaner than he'd ever seen it, she'd even managed to make it smell like something other than potion ingredients and a damp castle dungeon. Though whether it was good for his reputation to walk around smelling like lavender was perhaps, questionable. Without meeting the gaze of anyone else in the room, Severus swung his robe around his shoulders.

"Thank you for fixing the piano," Molly said as she, in a very mothering manner, stepped forwards and began to straighten the flowing fabric over his shoulders. So much for the end of his humiliation. He glared at the onlookers who suddenly found different things to look at around the room. "I've no idea how much it would've cost but I can't just..." she began.

"I don't want your money," he snapped, quickly.

"But, I..."

"I said, I don't want money," Severus repeated and she sighed. "Consider that you gave me enough biscuits to more than cover the fee," he told her in an effort to placate the formidable Weasley matriarch.

"It wasn't that many," Molly shook her head, smiling as he walked off.

"You're not staying for dinner?" Arthur asked.

"No," he shook his head as he opened the door.

"Well, you'll come to Christmas dinner, at least, won't you, dear?" Molly asked.

"...We'll see," Severus muttered before he left. Why, oh why, couldn't he have just said 'no'?

*1 If you search 'Pam Wedgwood a rough sea shanty #43' on YouTube, this is the music Snape is playing. And there's a lullaby version of 'Imagine' on YouTube as well.

Chapter 15: 16th August 2006

Potter's First staff Meeting

16th August 2006

Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect at a Hogwarts staff meeting. He'd been to plenty of Auror meetings and they were usually pretty formal affairs since their work was such a serious business. Remus had told him that since Severus had become headmaster, their meetings were short and not at all formal. At first it had confused people but they'd stopped asking questions years ago.

The truth of it was that the idea of being at the head of a table, being the centre of attention and in charge, so to speak, reminded Severus far too much of the many Death Eater meetings he'd attended. Now, he hated meetings of any kind. He dreaded them. And everyone knew it. He particularly hated early morning meetings because, as they all knew, Severus Snape was not a morning person. But this particular morning, he didn't have a choice. He had too much work to do to hide away in his rooms.

The staff room had a small table of food and drinks laid out by the house elves and each member of staff was sat around on the sofas or chairs. It looked more like a typical morning in a common room than a meeting to Harry.

"Where's the headmaster?" Harry asked Remus and the man smiled slightly.

"He'll be here," Remus assured him.

When he and Harry had joined the others in the staff room, Remus had made a mug of strong coffee which he'd not even touched. He'd kept it warm with magic, but he'd made no move to drink it.

At exactly eight in the morning, Severus came billowing through the door and Remus handed him the mug of coffee which surprised no one. The headmaster didn't even look twice at the offering. No one spoke as the man drank it, they seemed to be either exasperated or amused.

"Let's get this over with," Severus said after a minute and he sat down in a vacant seat by the warm fire.

The second after he set down his now empty mug on a table beside him, Madam Hooch spoke before anyone else had the chance. "We need new brooms, Severus," she declared and he sighed, as did several others.

"I've already told you," he began, "The budget..."

"Must surely cover it by now. I've been asking for years. The brooms we have now are old, too old to be used safely..."

"That's a little dramatic, surely," professor Sprout said.

"It's the students safety in question," Hooch said, "I don't think we want to be taking a risk like this."

"There has yet to be an accident caused by unsafe brooms," Severus remarked.

"So, you're saying we should wait until there is an accident before we get new ones?"

"No," the headmaster rolled his eyes. "The paper work alone would drive me to distraction," he said and people started to snicker.

"Severus," Minerva shook her head.

"I know nothing about brooms, safe or otherwise," Severus said after he glared at his deputy. "But you do. I'm sure you won't mind inspecting them," he said to Minerva.

"All of them?" she asked.

"All of them," he replied.

"There's over fifty," she pointed out.

"Then I suggest you get started," Snape shrugged and Madam Hooch looked thrilled. "However many you deem 'unsafe', the school will replace," he said.

"But how? The budget..."

"I'll deal with it," Severus said, though he had had no idea how. "If you get started after the meeting, you might be done in time for the sorting next month," he said, repressing a smirk.

"How wonderful," Minerva drawled.

"I believe the Assistant Professor is more than capable of helping you," he said, glancing at Harry.

"They'll need testing," she said to Harry who suddenly looked as happy as Madam Hooch.

"Test the brooms...sure," he replied.

"Wonderful," Madam Hooch beamed.

"Headmaster," professor Romulus Harrington, teacher of Muggle Studies began. "What about the schools' safety procedural manual?" he asked and several people groaned.

"What about it?" Severus asked in a disinterested tone.

"Well, I mean, shouldn't we read through it so that the new assistant professor...and everyone else is aware of..."

"You've been here for eight years," the headmaster sighed, "If you've not familiarised yourself with the book at all, I fail to see why I should sit through a reading of the world's most uninteresting book."

"But you're the headmaster! I know it, I've read the book cover to cover every year. I could probably recite it to you."

"Then what is the problem?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I think we should start doing some drills, fire drills things like that and..."

"So you want me to torture the entire school with your 'disaster drills'?"

"I'd hardly call it torture but, well, yes. I've been studying how things are done in muggle schools and..."

"This is not a muggle school...if you have yet to realise that I would suggest you start looking for another job," Severus told him but he didn't seem at all offended.

"I brought this for you to look at," the man continued. He then took out a simple muggle smoke alarm from his robes. While some of the professors, who had been in the wizarding world all theirs lives, looked intrigued and confused, Severus just raised an uninterested eyebrow. "It's called a..."

"A smoke alarm, yes, I have heard of it," Severus rolled his eyes.

"You have?" the professor seemed shocked, "How?"

"I'm a man of mystery," the headmaster replied, "But tell me, professor, what powers a smoke alarm?"

"Well...batteries, sir."

"And why is it that you have taught here for almost a decade and yet you fail to realise why we cannot have such technology in the castle?"

"But surely...they're only batteries, headmaster."

"You've tested the device?"

"Not in the castle, no," the man answered and watched as Severus held out his hand expectantly. Harrington gave the headmaster the device and watched as he then proceeded to hover it a metre or so away from him and then he took a piece of parchment and silently set it alight with his wand. The burning parchment was placed beneath the smoke alarm and within seconds of the flames and smoke reaching it, it exploded.

It was only a very small explosion but it seemed to give the demure professor a miniature heart attack.

Severus vanished both the remains of the paper and the plastic smoke alarm with a wave of his wand and a small, self satisfied smirk. "That is why we have no batteries here, Harrington," he said, "Technology and Hogwarts do not mix."

"...Yes, I...I understand, headmaster."

"You brought no more, I hope," Severus remarked.

"Erm...well, that is to say, I may have..."

"How many?" the pale wizard sighed.

"A dozen...maybe."

"A dozen batteries? No more?" Severus tried to confirm. Surely that wasn't as bad as he'd feared. It would be simple to banish only a dozen of them.

"A dozen...boxes of them...and about erm...fifty smoke alarms...headmaster," he said and Snape snorted in annoyance. This was why he hated meetings. He felt like a gloried babysitter of people who only existed to irritate him.

"Moron! What do you think will happen when the students descend and classes resume?!" Severus hissed as he paced in front of the professor.

"I didn't think..."

"Clearly," Severus scrubbed his hand down his face. "You will bring them all to me before the day is out and I will dispose of them and you are to spend an hour, at least, talking to your much more patient colleagues who are to explain to you, in detail, why we do not idly bring muggle technology into an ancient magical castle!"

"Yes...sir," the man nodded, sheepishly.

"And to make sure that it doesn't happen again, you will include this in your lessons from now on and endeavour to answer any and every question put to you by your students," the headmaster added.

"Of course...I'll do that."

Severus nodded curtly, seemingly pacified by his easy agreement and Minerva patted his knee gently as though comforting a student who'd just been scolded.

"Are meetings here always so...erm..." Harry muttered to Remus who had just been sitting calmly through the whole thing.

"You'll get used to it."

"If there is nothing further," Severus prompted.

"Well..there was one thing...headmaster," Slughorn began, "But it hardly seems worth..."

"What is it?"

"It can wait, I'm sure it can wait..." the older wizard trailed off, leaving the 'until you're in a better mood' to everyone's imagination but the implication made Severus' left eye twitch.

"Actually, Severus, it can't," Flitwick began with a grin, "You see, it..." he said but Slughorn promptly elbowed him, to quiet him down. Obviously, the gesture caught everyone's attention.

"I swear," Severus took a deep breath, "If you're about to tell me that you started a battery smuggling operation with Harrington..."

"No, no, nothing like that," the wizard protested, shaking his hands in front of him.

"Then what?"

"It's more like a goat smuggling operation, Severus," Flitwick exclaimed and most people in the room simply burst out laughing.

"Filius!" Slughorn scowled at him.

"He'd find out sooner or later," the Charms professor defended.

Severus took a deep breath and then another and repeated 'I will not go on a murderous rampage and kill all my staff' ten times in his head before he turned back to Horace.

"...A goat?" Severus demanded.

"Yes," Slughorn nodded, "It was the strangest thing, I was in the Hog's Head and..."

"Aberforth," the headmaster cursed.

"It was Aberforth who gave him to me, you see..."

"I don't care," Severus said quickly. "Where is this goat now?" he asked.

"It's...in the potions lab."

"You left an animal...unsupervised...in the potions lab," the man enunciated carefully. Everyone knew how much the headmaster still favoured his old classroom and they knew that Harrington wouldn't be the only one in for a lecture today. They just thought it was good entertainment.

"It's not entirely...I mean, it's on a leash..."

"The potions lab is not a petting zoo!" Severus growled while Minerva was fighting valiantly to keep from laughing, so too was Albus' portrait and many others that adorned the walls. Clearly people here had stopped fearing the wrath of Severus Snape a long time ago.

"Well, no, but a goat could be very useful..."

"So could a Hungarian Horntail but I didn't let Hagrid keep it on the grounds, did I?!"

"I hardly think a goat is as bad as a dragon, Severus," Minerva remarked and he glared at her.

"Are you planning on using it in NEWT level experiment on the exact procedure on how to remove a bezoar from its stomach?" Severus rounded on Horace.

"Well...I wasn't...no, I wasn't planning on it."

"What about showing the students how to remove the head and liver and boil them for use in an Evieris potion?"

"No, I...think that'll be just as unappealing to them as the first one, actually," Horace replied.

"Then what is the point of it?"

"I can use the goat's milk..."

"Hogwarts has yet to teach a cooking class," Severus said dismissively with a wave of his hand, "It will not start now. If you want to teach students to cook then you'll have do so in your own time."

"Goats milk can be used in potions," Horace defended.

"Name one," Severus challenged and the man visibly paled. "I'm waiting," he said after a moment.

"Well, I...there's the erm...no...not that one, I..." the larger man stammered and pursed his lip.

"Don't tell me your famous love of pineapple is now a love of goats milk?" the headmaster asked.

"Aberforth assured me that they're easy to look after..."

"He lets his animals run riot in his bar! Of course they're easy to care for when they're left to their own devices!"

"...That's true..."

"Severus..." Remus said, his lip twitching. "This doesn't have anything to do with that bet the two of you made last month...does it?" he asked.

"Not another word, wolf!" the man hissed.

"Who's betting? What bet?" Pomona asked, suddenly smiling and sitting up on the sofa. She, like many others, was suddenly very interested.

"Yes, Severus, do tell," Minerva said, "I'm sure we'd love nothing more than to learn about your gambling habits."

"If I remember rightly, there was..." Remus said with a wistful look in his eyes.

"Keep talking and you'll end up as a wolf skin rug in my office before you can say 'howl'."

"...Four bottles of Odgen's strongest Firewhiskey..." the werewolf continued, pausing for a moment only to chuckle at Severus' comment. "Three glasses of claret...two goblets of imported Russian vodka..."

"And a partridge in a pear tree?" Severus growled and Harry couldn't help himself now. He laughed. He'd tried so valiantly not to but now he simply couldn't stop even with Snape glaring at him.

"And the underside of one of the tables at the back of the bar," Remus finished with a smile. "Now I come to think about it, I remember him saying that if you lost, you'd have to take one of his..."

"What part of 'be quiet' don't you understand?!" Severus yelled at him.

"And you did lose," the werewolf said to him, "Didn't you?"

"Yes, I lost the damn bet!" Severus slumped down in his chair again and growled. "Happy now, wolf?!"

"Should the headmaster of a school be gambling?" Harrington asked, seeming to find his backbone for a moment.

"Go and...test your smoke alarms, Harrington," Severus grumbled at him, "And hope they don't explode in your face!"

"Don't look at me, Severus," Albus' portrait said, his moustache twitching as Severus scowled at him. "You should know better than to make bets with Aberforth. It's hardly my fault."

"He's your brother!"

"It was your bet."

"You never told me he drinks like a sailor!"

"I didn't think I'd have to," Albus retorted.

"Honestly," Poppy sighed next to Minerva.

"Shhhh," the deputy head muttered, good-naturedly.

"Why did you take the bet, anyway? Haven't you learned before now that you never try and out drink a bartender?" the portrait lamented.

"Yes, surely everyone knows that," Horace nodded.

"You're hardly in a position to judge," Severus snapped.

"Yes, particularly after what happened last Christmas," Sinstra snickered.

"What happened last Christmas?" Harry asked.

"Horace got drunk in the Three Broomsticks and somehow made his way back to the castle and he ended up singing 'I'm Merlin the happy pig' through the entire school," Remus answered him.

"It was hardly through the whole school, and the castle was practically empty anyway..." the man muttered, blushing.

"Maybe it's not fire drills we need after all," Harrington muttered to professor Sprout.

"Well...what about you, Romulus! I'm sure we all remember what happened three years ago on St Andrew's Day," Horace said, trying to save face.

"We are in Scotland. I was only trying to be gracious to the school," he shot back, haughtily, "It's a national holiday."

"So is Christmas!"

"Well, I..."

"Enough," Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes using his thumb and his middle finger with his face covered by his hand. "One more word...and I'm cancelling both Christmas and St Andrew's day."

"But I..." Horace stammered at the same time as Romulus said, "But he..."

Severus moved his hand to glare at them both and they seemed to deflate as they both said 'Yes, headmaster' simultaneously.

"But...Severus...what about the goat?" Flitwick asked once he'd stopped chortling.

"I'll not be made to house a goat in this castle," the man snapped.

"You could let Hagrid keep it," Harry suggested. "It'd still be on the castle grounds and I'm sure he wouldn't mind," he said.

"An excellent idea, Harry," Horace beamed, "I knew you were always a clever one."

"Where is he, anyway?" Harry asked, "He's still a professor isn't he?"

"Romania," Minerva said, "I thought you knew."

"No..."

"He hatched another dragon," Remus smiled. "Some of the students found out and...well, word travels fast," he said.

"...A Hungarian Horntail?" the younger wizard guessed, remembering Snape's earlier comment.

"A Hungarian Horntail," the werewolf nodded, "He should be returning next week."

"In the meantime," Severus said, "Horace you will keep the beast out of the potions lab."

"Of course."

"Should it break anything, you will replace it."

"Me? But you were the one who...right, right...I'll just...right..." the man stammered when he was the victim of another patented Snape glare. "If you don't need me...I'll just go and check on...something..." he said before practically running off back to the dungeons.

"Should anyone decide to give me any good news, they'll be exempt from monitoring the hallways for a month," Severus sighed.

At this, everyone suddenly seemed deep in thought and people shared eager glances at each other.

"Well..." Harrington began, cautiously. "I did have another idea...I met a muggle and he told me all about how he'd done trust exercises at work. It sounded rather interesting, you see there was this 'falling backwards' one where a colleague behind you has to catch you when you fall backwards..."

"Why would someone be falling backwards?" Pomona asked, confused.

"To show the person behind them that they trust them enough to catch them."

"Wouldn't it be better to start a duelling club and have people agree to be your second? Surely that'd inspire more confidence," Filius suggested.

"That's not really..."

"Congratulations, professor," Severus said, looking at Harrington, "Now you're on double monitoring duty."

"But I..." Romulus sighed as Pomona laughed heartily and patted him on the back.

"There's no good news, then?" the headmaster asked.

"Like what?" Minerva said.

"...The school year is cancelled, perhaps," he suggested.

"In that case, no, there is no good news," she smirked.

"Then get out of my sight, all of you," Severus said, but without a hint of malice and everyone just seemed to take it in their stride.

A stunned Harry stayed seated when Remus and Minerva made no move to leave with the others.

"So...the goat bet, Severus?" Minerva smirked. "Aberforth challenged me to that bet once and even I wasn't drunk enough to take it. Just how much had you drank before he asked you?" she asked and he just growled.

"He came close to winning," Remus remarked, "It was that last glass of vodka that sent him under the table. Aberforth himself was out of it about two minutes after."

"Well, if you almost out drank him, remind me never to share my Scotch with you again," she chuckled quietly.

"Why don't you join us next time, Harry," Remus grinned.

"I..."

"Yes, you could stop Severus from taking another of those ridiculous bets before Hogwarts ends up housing all of Aberforth's goats," Minerva added.

"I thought I told you all to leave," Severus bemoaned.

"And we are," she nodded, looking to Harry. "We have brooms to test, don't we?" she smiled and lead him out of the room.

A.N. A big, big thank you to those of you reviewing! They really make my day :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter.