Madly, Deeply, Black

Severus could not recall a more tiring month at Hogwarts than December, which stretched on and on as if it would never end. He didn't know what had been worse: the curious and misplaced looks that gradually turned towards him in the Great Hall as those who received the Daily Prophet spread the news of the headline, the teachers' looks of pure horror, the summons to Dumbledore's office to try and manage this crisis situation, the challenge to his status as a spy, the risk of his mission failing.

The snow had arrived; the cold was seeping into every crevice of the castle, and despite its charm, it was sometimes necessary to cover up before walking through the corridors. Everyone was cheerful and seemed to be looking forward to the upcoming festivities, and Severus had never felt so disconnected from the prevailing mood. He had pushed Sirius' proposal to the back of his mind and was determined not to flinch or become soft-hearted, desperate to find the strength to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. He fought constantly against the urgency that gripped him and drove him to Apparate himself to London and throw himself into Sirius's arms. At least that was how Severus saw his reunion with the Gryffindor, and that was why he had resisted staying at Hogwarts.

Severus had come so close to kissing Sirius on their last weekend in Grimmauld Place. This feeling inside him, as if he was suddenly endowed with a fire that burned his insides and made him lose his mind, this invisible force that scared him to death. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, and the unknown repelled him to the core. He knew that nothing good could come of it, that Sirius would make him lose his focus on the mission he had spent so many years preparing for. Nothing would make him stray from his role as a spy. If he was honest with himself, Severus sometimes felt on the verge of fainting at the thought of Sirius discovering that he had been responsible for the Potters' deaths. That he had delivered the prophecy to Voldemort. In his moments of greatest despair, he wondered if Sirius would be able to kill him. He was sure of it.

As the snow continued to cover everything, Severus walked quickly down the corridor, glancing at Hagrid's hut, which looked like a large sugar cake. A few Ravenclaw students crossed his path and it seemed to him that they were leaning against the wall to avoid him. Severus sighed. It had been like this ever since the article had appeared a fortnight ago. He hadn't even tried to deny it. Everyone had avoided him, except McGonagall, who had seemed angry but not surprised. Severus thought Dumbledore must have told her about his past at some point. All his colleagues had been stunned and had carefully avoided speaking to him. Severus knew that some of them had spoken to Dumbledore, trying to understand, or trying to get him fired. He had never been popular anyway. But the Headmaster had dismissed them all and told them to behave as they had before, that he had every confidence in Severus, and the usual spiel that Severus knew he liked.

Much seemed to be changing in Severus' life, and his loneliness left him with long moments of introspection from which little positive came. If before he hadn't cared what others thought of him, now he could feel his armour cracking in places. This feeling of being misunderstood took him back to his youth. But then there was the rush of learning, the thirst for knowledge and the wonder of discovery to counterbalance his personal insecurities. Now there was none. That was why Severus had decided to return to the question of his amnesia and its scars. He wanted to know what had happened.

He had returned to his books and searched through those in the school library - or rather, the storeroom - without finding a solution. But gradually he wondered if he had fallen victim to a forgetting spell so powerful that he himself was unable to detect any traces of magic. The thought filled him with dread, for if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Umbridge hadn't cast it. The good woman was a far too mediocre witch for that. So she had accomplices, or at least one. Severus had told Dumbledore of his fears, and the Headmaster had listened with a grave expression, proving him right. He had finally said out loud what Severus feared and dared not say. Ever since, the Slytherin had felt that he was in a race against time, and that only his incredible magical abilities would allow him to earn a little extra life if their theory proved correct.

Ignoring the group of Slytherin students, Severus made his way to his private chambers, so tired of his daily routine. The only person he wanted to see was far away. He wanted to tell Sirius about this new idea, but he couldn't. He couldn't let it get to him. He couldn't let it distract him from his work. But he could have used Sirius's arms and his laughter. He wouldn't have rejected him, he wouldn't have been afraid of him and he wouldn't have looked at him with a mixture of contempt and fear. Only the students of his own house behaved as if nothing had happened.

Exhausted, Severus flopped down in front of his log fire, which filled the room with a pleasant warmth, even if he was unable to warm himself completely. He wanted a massage. But why? No one had ever massaged him in his life, but something told him he needed it. "If you went to Sirius, he'd probably do it," said a little voice in his head. "Oh no, not at all, he's probably very angry with you because he hasn't heard from you in two weeks," the same voice replied.

The thought of losing Sirius, even if Severus couldn't quite define what that meant, continued to fill him with dread. He suddenly opened his eyes and screamed. Sirius was staring at him, his head resting in the middle of the fire.

“Well, well," Sirius' voice said. “I'm glad to see you're still alive.”

Severus, his heart racing, fluttered his eyelids a few times, trying to take in what he was seeing, but his brain seemed to be working in slow motion.

“Have you lost your voice? Is that why you've been completely ignoring me all this time?”

“Sirius," Severus said suddenly.

“I know what my name is," the Gryffindor replied briskly.

“What are you doing here?" exclaimed Severus, his heart pounding.

Sirius Black was right in front of him. The man he couldn't stop thinking about and had decided he never wanted to see again.

“What do you think?" the look on Sirius's face was one of amusement.

Severus forced himself to collect his thoughts.

“Can you imagine if you were caught? Umbridge is watching the chimney system," he exclaimed, feeling a rush of panic come over him.

“What's the big deal? At least something exciting would be happening in my life! If you'd given me some news, I wouldn't have had to do this!”

“Did it ever occur to you that the reason I didn't report it was because I had a good reason not to?”

“Oh yes, a good reason? Well, I'm here, I'm listening, I'd like to know what that good reason was," Sirius spat.

Severus jumped out of his chair.

“Get out of here, it's too dangerous.”

The Slytherin felt his heart clench as he saw the look of hurt on Sirius's face.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes," Severus replied without hesitation.

"No, I want you to come and hold me," came the voice in his head.

“Very well," said Sirius, who seemed to be doing everything in his power to control his own voice. “But first you're going to tell me why this silence. I have a right to know.”

“I...”

“Yes?”

“I've been very busy," Severus replied hesitantly.

“That's no different than usual," Sirius replied.

“Yes, but this was something else.”

Severus didn't know what to say. He had not prepared himself to face Sirius so suddenly. In his mind, their inevitable meeting would have taken place at an Order meeting and Severus would have arranged to leave immediately afterwards.

“What's different? Is it the article?" asked Sirius.

“It's none of your business," Severus shouted without thinking.

“I've been worried about you for two weeks," Sirius shouted back.

The Gryffindor's voice seemed to alternate between anger and a desire to cry, giving Sirius' usually serious tone an unusual twist. Severus' heart sank even more at the words.

“I'm sorry," he said.

And he truly was.

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“I... Sirius, this is not the time.”

“It's never the right time with you. You've been like Remus lately, keeping me out of your stories, supposedly to protect me or whatever, but I can't take it anymore! I can't stand this isolation, I'm going mad!”

“I'm sorry," Severus repeated, ashamed of himself.

He wanted so much to be with Sirius in the flesh, this conversation would never be enough to say everything he had to say. He wasn't even sure that words were enough.

“Don't you want to talk to me?" asked Sirius.

The Potions Master saw that the other man's eyes were shining. His own eyes were not far from filling with tears.

“I can't," Severus said in a low voice. “Please leave, I don't want you to get caught.”

“Are you sure?" Sirius repeated.

“Yes please," Severus said.

"I want to talk to you all night," the voice inside him said.

“You really are a coward," Sirius said, his eyes glowing red with anger and tears.

The Gryffindor's head disappeared from the fireplace as quickly as it had appeared, and Severus stood staring into the flames for a long time, his eyes blurred by his own tears, which distorted even the darkness in the corners of the room.

He would never have allowed anyone to call him a coward, but Sirius was not just anyone. And Severus hated himself even more for showing a trait that was not in his character. He felt the emotions rise and fall within him like waves in a raging storm, a pressure on his stomach forcing his mouth to open and Severus heard a moan coming from it, almost surprised that he was the man producing such a cry. He fell to his knees as if under a cotton-wool curse and his whole body shook. Severus felt his hands wet with the tears that never seemed to stop. He thought of Sirius, of Lily, of his miserable childhood, of Dumbledore, of his bewitched amnesia, of the dangers that awaited him, of the fact that he had never been happy and would die without knowing what that meant. He thought of Sirius again.

After draining all the water that seemed to be in his body, Severus staggered to his feet, vaguely wondering when he had last let himself go so much. With a shudder of horror, he imagined Voldemort deciding to call him at this very moment. But his mark remained cold and painless. He staggered to his bathroom and stripped completely, barely noticing that his ribs were protruding even more than usual and slipped under the hot water. He remained there indefinitely, his head bowed beneath the scalding waterfall that covered his body. Eventually, a great sense of relief washed over his limbs and when he emerged from the shower, Severus went to bed without bothering to dry himself off and fell asleep immediately.

**

It was the best night he'd had in two weeks. When he awoke, it was past breakfast time and Severus sat up in bed, trying to remember why he felt so stunned but almost rested. The events of the previous day came back to him. A certain shame came over him as he remembered his crying fit, but at least the first stage of mourning Sirius was behind him. Now he didn't have to worry about that anymore. Sirius hated him and that was a problem solved, he wouldn't spend his time dreading the moment of their reunion or dreaming of tenderness. He was ready to concentrate on his task.

Soon the castle would be almost empty, and he hoped to find some peace and quiet. It was the last weekend before the holidays and Severus was dressed smartly for his meeting with the Headmaster. Dumbledore had whispered to him during lunch the day before to come to his office at eleven the next morning. The two men had seen each other many times since the article had appeared, but they had to remain cautious and try not to attract too much attention. As Severus entered the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office, he came face to face with Potter.

“What are you doing here at this hour Potter?" he barked.

“Walking around the castle, it's not forbidden as far as I know," the boy replied with an unbearable air of Potter Senior.

Anything that reminded Severus of Sirius was unwelcome, and seeing his godson as a miniature version of his worst enemy was definitely one of those things.

“20 points from Gryffindor, it's time you learned some manners Potter”, Severus muttered, sadly not taking the usual pleasure in taking points off students.

The boy looked at him and Severus felt as if two green bolts of lightning had flashed out of his eyes and struck him in the heart.

“Get out of here and go find something useful to do," he spat at him.

“It's not my fault you had a bad night," Potter muttered as he walked away.

Severus almost insulted him but stopped himself. With a flick of his black robes, he turned and walked with a determined stride towards the Headmaster's office. Why had Potter said that? Could it be that he knew about... what exactly? Severus felt his heart quicken, there was no way the boy could know anything.

“Fireworks," he said grumpily to the gargoyle, who stepped aside to let him up.

He knocked on the door and entered at Dumbledore's invitation. The Headmaster was sitting in his chair and motioned for him to sit down.

“Severus, you look terrible, what's the matter? I mean worse than usual.”

The Potions Master didn't take the joke well.

“Did you ask me to come here to insult me?”

“What happened?" said Dumbledore calmly.

“What makes you think something's happened?”

“You've got red puffy eyes.”

“Do I?" forced out Severus. “Well, that's surprising, because I slept very well.”

“Interesting," Dumbledore commented.

“You wanted to see me, Headmaster?”

“Yes, yes, I did.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his long beard.

“Severus, I've thought it over and I think it's too dangerous for you to continue spying for...”

“Oh, no!" cried Severus. “We've already had this discussion! It's over now! I'll continue to spy as before, double the guard, that's all!”

“Severus, listen to me...”

“No, you listen to me," the Slytherin said, rising to his feet. “I've been preparing for this role for years, I didn't know a frustrated old woman with an authority complex would come along and put obstacles in my way, but there it is. This mission is my life's work, don't take it away from me.”

He saw one of the headmaster's eyebrows twitch almost imperceptibly.

“What a sad life, Severus.”

“I don't need you to comment on my life, you've never been very interested in it, so don't start now.”

As he spoke, Severus heard the bitterness in his own voice and hated himself for it.

“I wonder what I could say or do to make you stop thinking that about me, Severus," the Headmaster said in the same calm tone, but this time with an audible note of sadness.

“Nothing, I don't care," Severus replied. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

“If you're sure, if you're sure you want to go on...”

“I do," Severus said.

“Very well," the Headmaster sighed.

Severus waited a moment.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes, actually," Dumbledore said, and Severus sensed from the tone of his voice that this was the real reason he had brought him here. “Umbridge and her… what did you say? Her authority complex.”

“What?" the Slytherin asked hastily.

“I think it's time we tried something serious to get your memory back.”

Severus was speechless. It was the first time Dumbledore had mentioned the possibility of directly attacking the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“What do you mean?" asked Severus.

“I mean, after our discussion last time about the possibility that she wasn't acting alone, and given the person our suspicions have turned to... I think it's time we took more concrete action. The Christmas holidays are approaching, and this will be the opportunity to intervene. I'll lend you something, Severus.”

Heart pounding with apprehension and curiosity, Severus watched as the old man stood and walked to his cupboard to retrieve his Pensieve. Severus frowned.

“I've already used the Pensieve to search my memory, and as you well know, I found nothing.”

“I wasn't thinking of your memories.”

He placed the magical object on his desk, and Severus understood as he met his gaze.

“You want me to... but how? It can't be done unless you meaning attacking her.”

“You're clever, Severus, perhaps you can find another strategy. But if not, that is exactly what I meant. Perhaps the time has come to attack Umbridge.”

Severus felt Dumbledore's piercing gaze on him and suddenly the two scars on his face burned. He jumped back in his chair and put his hand to his face. He immediately ran his hand through his hair, trying to deceive Dumbledore as to the meaning of his gesture, but he was sure the Headmaster had understood, even if he had the delicacy not to point it out.

“You mean," Severus said breathlessly, "you're going to allow me to attack a Ministry representative under the roof of Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore made a resigned gesture, fanning out his hands.

“I don't want any students hurt or put in danger.”

“As if that were my style," Severus retorted.

He wanted to snarl at Dumbledore for putting him in yet another impossible situation, but at the same time he gloated.

As he left the Headmaster's office, the magically shrunken Pensieve hidden in his pocket, Severus felt something new coursing through his veins. He had power and the right to wield it. Dangerous power, even unhealthy power, but power nonetheless. It was up to him to know how to use it.