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You Will Not Kiss Me	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 22836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling & her associates own the Harry Potter universe and I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
- 114
- 115
- 116
Direct quotes from Chapters 13, 18 and 35 of DH are in bold and © J.K. Rowling

Chapter 115: The Greater Good
The meetings Snape had held that morning had taken their toll on him.
His meeting with the Carrows had had to be finely judged. He pinched his nose. 'Didn't they all?' he thought with exasperation.
As with Crabbe and Goyle, he had left the twins under no illusions of the stupidity of their behaviour. His righteous rage easily took the guise of protectiveness of his master's great cause – that their laziness could cost the trust of pure-blood parents, and Snape would not shield them from their master's wrath if they did more damage than any Mudbloods or blood traitors could hope for in their wildest dreams. By the time Snape had finished with them, the Carrows had begged for his silence with promises of their fidelity to anything – anything – he asked of them.
A shard of cold satisfaction sliced through his fear of discovery. Of course, Snape knew better than to trust them but he knew they were scared of how he could damage them with the Dark Lord. He smiled at them – a cold, hard, predatory smile.
"You will never leave your post to students again?"
"No, n-n-never," stuttered Alecto.
"You will not encourage them to follow the example of the Malfoys? To take without asking ..." Snape's head tilted to one side as he continued silkily, toying with them in their evident discomfort. "You know how the Dark Lord despises those too weak to control their base urges?" He strode around the desk and stood above the twins on the dias, and lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "Encouraging those boys to seek anything other than the purification of the power and excellence of magic? The Dark Lord placed you here to accomplish this for him – and for no other purpose – do you understand?"
The twins were entranced by the thought that such nobility of purpose was expected of them – that they – brutish and ugly in person and of spirit – were even capable of imparting such excellence! Snape mastered his natural sneer at their gullibility – they were so easily led.
And as they had left, happy and full of their own self-importance, so the Heads of Houses had arrived - full of anger and vitriol, led by an indignant Minerva and an openly hostile Filius. All four of them clamoured for answers from him as he sat impassively at his desk.
"Quiet!" he hissed venomously and flicked his wand, Summoning four chairs which unceremoniously bumped into the backs of his visitors' legs. "And sit!"
Snape himself stood.
"Yes, Miss Lovegood was attacked by two students of Slytherin House early this morning." He paused, glaring at each Head of House. "I caught them whilst I was on patrol and ensured Miss Lovegood received prompt medical attention -"
"And suppose you think that absolves-" Minerva began.
"The question should be -" Snape cut across Minerva, repressively, "what was Miss Lovegood doing creeping around the castle at that time in the morning?"
"Are you saying that Luna is in some way responsible for being attacked? Blame her rather than the animals that attacked her?" barked Filius.
"The lesson I would like each of you to take away from this – ah – débâcle is to impress upon the members of your Houses not to be out after lights-out and - up to no good."
"That is perfidious!" Filius scowled. "You are blaming the victim! You have no honour, Severus!" His chair clattered back as Filius stood and stormed from the room, eliciting a squeak of dismay from Pomona. Slughorn watched, slack-jawed.
"Never," said Minerva, her eyes hard and intense, her tone scathing, "did Filius ever have cause to walk out on Professor Dumbledore! Do these children mean nothing to you at all, Severus?"
Minerva's use of Dumbledore's title did not escape Snape: he understood she thought he had relinquished his right to call Dumbledore by his given name. He felt the sting of it and couldn't pretend that he considered the sting unwarranted. He was, after all, Dumbledore's killer.
Snape affected an air of bored indifference.
"The perpetrators have been warned, Professor McGonagall. It will not happen again."
"Warned? Those boys assaulted a lone female student, tried to rape her! Dear God, Severus! They used an Unforgiveable ..."
Bile rose in Snape's throat as he replied, "The Cruciatus curse is part of the curriculum now, Professor. But -" he hesitated as if considering, "its inappropriate use will not be tolerated."
"Inappro ... inappropriate? You will do nothing?" Minerva exclaimed in horror. "No punishment?"
For a brief and blinding moment, Snape felt the resurgence of an old anger that the guilty had so often gone unpunished, especially when the victim had been Snape himself, whether the perpetrators had been Slytherins or Minerva's beloved Gryffindors.
"Perhaps … I am more like Professor Dumbledore than you care to admit, hm?" he said silkily, leaning back on his desk and steepling his fingers.
Minerva's mouth set into a grim line of distaste.
"No, Severus. You could never be like Albus." Minerva stood smartly, a gesture quickly followed by Pomona and Slughorn. "We will ensure the corridors are patrolled at all times by those of us who do care about the well-being of our students."
Snape inclined his head with a small, sour smile.
"A fine idea, Professor. I'm sure the Carrows will appreciate their free evenings."
"You are a disgrace," Minerva hissed. With a sharp nod of her head, she turned on her heel smartly and left.
Snape said nothing as he watched the three leave. No-one would know from his impassive face how the shame coursed under his skin, even though he knew his mendacity could keep the students safe.
For now.
His reverie was broken by the voice that had acted as his conscience so many times before.
"You did the best you could, Severus. Sometimes, these measures are unavoidable."
Snape turned to face the portrait, his mask slipping away.
"You never Obliviated a student," he said softly as a notion formed in his mind – a thought that seemed to become enormous as it slowly took shape. "You could have wiped Black's murderous prank from my mind. Then I wouldn't have known … become so fearful ... so vengeful."
"In retrospect, would you have preferred that, Severus?" Dumbledore gazed intently over his painted glasses. "To have taken your will from you? I knew the knowledge you had gained of your fellow student was dangerous for you to know – even more dangerous for Remus. Your choice of how to use that information could shape your life. But it had to be your choice."
Snape's anger subsided into resentment. He hated being reminded of his lifetime of poor choices, and he lashed out.
"Why didn't you expel Black and Potter? Why was my safety of so little worth?"
"James Potter was not involved ..."
Snape huffed in disgust.
"No, Severus, he was not. And your life always had worth, whether you believe or not." Dumbledore sat back in his chair and regarded Snape again and stroked his beard. It took Snape's breath away how alike the portrait was to the deceased sitter. "I am so sorry this sad business has opened old wounds for you," said Dumbledore gently, and Snape felt his shoulders slacken. "I understand how aggrieved you felt then – but had I expelled Sirius, even though he undoubtedly deserved it, have you considered what would have happened to Remus?"
"You had already sworn me to silence! What could have happened to Remus?" Snape snapped.
"Had I expelled Sirius Black, do you think for one minute that Walburga and Orion Black would have not dragged the true reason from their son? As Dark a family as the Wizarding world has ever produced ... Veritaserum, if he had been lucky." Dumbledore raised his index finger in emphasis. "They would have seen Remus drummed out of school, with all the attendant publicity they could manage. And I do not believe they would have spared you either, Severus – a half-blood with no family or connections bringing a complaint against the heir to the House of Black?"
Snape stared at the portrait as an unpleasant sensation crawled under his skin with the realisation that dawned on him – two decades on – Dumbledore had not only protected Potter and Black – he had protected Lupin – he had protected Snape himself from the vengeance of the Blacks – he had tried to protect them all the only way he could ... with a compromise.
It sickened him – not with anger – but with a new understanding derived from what he done that very morning and it pierced him like a knife that the notion he had vilified for so long might have to become part of his own methods.
"The greater good?" Snape muttered, disliking even the taste of it in his mouth. Dumbledore, however, smiled sadly.
"Call it the greater good, if you will. Certainly, it was the path by which most benefitted. Remus could continue his education; you could remain in the Wizarding world without retribution. I did what I could to ameliorate the nightmares your knowledge gave you but I did not accede to your wish for vengeance. Better Sirius was here than under the Dark tutelage of his family." The portrait sighed heavily. "Now, you understand what you must juggle – the mantle of responsibility, even in a school, is a heavy one, is it not?"
Snape felt a chill in his bones. He had always been so sure that Dumbledore had been wrong in those decisions where he espoused the greater good. Now, his certainty was shaken, but then he felt a resurgence of defensiveness again as he remembered all the people Dumbledore had Obliviated of Snape's relationship with Lupin to keep Snape's cover when the Dark Lord returned, especially as Snape considered Tonks's pregnancy was a direct consequence of Dumbledore's interference in his life.
"It isn't always right, not even to preserve my cover," grumbled Snape, mutinously. "Grindelwald had that inscribed over the prison as Nurmengard – from the mouth of a scoundrel!" Snape raised his chin defensively but Dumbledore looked at him with a maddening smile of understanding.
"I know you do not believe I understand the depth of your feelings for Remus, or what you have suffered." Dumbledore leant forward, his hands on the arms of his high-backed chair, his voice soft and confidential. "I loved once. As frightening a conflagration of emotion and desire as I could ever have dreamt -" Dumbledore's voice trailed away.
Snape found himself startled by Dumbledore's admission and then felt shamed: there had been a time when he would have sneered at such feelings himself – before he realised how brightly true love could shine in his very being.
"- but for me, Severus -" Dumbledore's voice became faraway, "- it was such a terrible mistake – I was so blinded by it – intoxicated!"
Snape waited, but Dumbledore seemed lost in his thoughts, then he closed his eyes and rested his head back and asked a question Snape had certainly not been expecting.
"Did you finish Miss Skeeter's book?"
"I read some of it. But it was so tawdry," moaned Snape, mildly offended that Dumbledore should think he would find interest in her gossip-mongering.
"I think," said Dumbledore slowly. "I think there will be a chapter there which may show you that - just possibly – I understand a little more than you think."
Snape glowered at the portrait, remembering how Dumbledore told them once that he had been in love but it had ended badly – so badly, in fact, that Dumbledore had foresworn romantic love. Now that Snape had Lupin's love, he could not understand what could have made Dumbledore relinquish that which Snape found so life-affirming.
"Can't you just tell me?" snapped Snape, not wanting to have to read any more of Skeeter's vile prose.
"Even now, Severus – it is too painful."
Snape closed his eyes, regretting his intemperate outburst immediately. He Summoned the book to himself and ran his fingers across the acid-green lettering, suddenly unwilling to find out why it should be too painful after one hundred years.
"Read the chapter headings to me, Severus. I will know which is the correct one."
Snape leafed to the contents page and read out each of the chapter headings until he came to one entitled 'The Greater Good'.
"I believe - that will be the one," said Dumbledore, the facsimile twinkle in his eyes seeming to diminish.
Snape read, but not aloud, even though the silence seemed to become more oppressive as he read.
Of course, he knew of Dumbledore's Hogwarts years, of the prizes and accomplishments, but what really did he know of Dumbledore's personal life other than his odd brother? Snape realised as he read that he knew very little. He had read a little of the sister when Madam Pince had first brought the book to him, but there was more here and his eyes widened as he read:
... ensuring the imprisonment of his sister. For, though her first gaoler had died, there was no change in the pitiful condition of Ariana Dumbledore. Her very existence continued to be known only to those few outsiders who, like 'Dogbreath' Doge, could be counted upon to believe in the story of her 'ill-health'.
"Your sister," said Snape. "Was she ill?"
"Yes," answered Dumbledore, his eyes now glassy. Snape looked away quickly. "There were those who believed Ariana was a Squib - she was anything but." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "When she was a small child, Ariana was attacked by a group of Muggle boys who witnessed her accidental magic. She was never the same." The portrait regarded Snape, and even in magical oils, Snape felt as if Dumbledore could still peer into his soul. "My father took revenge on those boys, Severus. He died in Azkaban for that crime."
Snape shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that Dumbledore had always considered Snape's desire for vengeance his greatest flaw.
"My mother dedicated herself to caring for Ariana, who had terrifying bouts of uncontrolled magic. I never understood the toll taking care of her took on my mother. Like the self-important teenager I was, I only saw my own wants and needs. I wanted to qualify then travel abroad – do the Grand Tour," he emphasised the words with sourness. "My mother put money by for me to do it too! It was all planned. Elphias and I were at The Leaky Cauldron ready to depart for Athens when the owl came ..."
Dumbledore's voice faded away and Snape tore his eyes away from the faraway look in Dumbledore's eyes and returned to the page he had been reading.
... bearing news of Dumbledore's mother's death. 'Dogbreath' Doge, who refused to be interviewed for this book, has given the public his own sentimental verison of what happened next. He represents Kendra's death as a tragic blow, and Dumbledore's decision to give up his expedition as an act of noble self-sacrifice.
Certainly, Dumbledore returned to Godric's Hollow at once, supposedly to 'care' for his younger brother and sister. But how much care did he actually give them?
'He were a headcase, that Aberforth,' says Enid Smeek, whose family lived on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow at that time. Smeek? Why did Snape recall that name? It would come to him, he was sure. He bent back to the book. 'Ran wild. 'Course, with his mum and dad gone you'd have felt sorry for him, only he chucking goat dung at my head. I don't think Albus was fussed about him, I never saw them together, anyway.'
So what was Albus doing if not comforting his wild young brother? The answer, it seems, is ensuring the continued imprisonment of his sister. For, though her first gaoler had died, there was no change in the pitiful condition of Ariana Dumbledore. Her very existence continued to be known only to those few outsiders who, like 'Dogbreath' Doge, could be counted upon to believe in the story of 'ill-health'.
Another such easily satisfied friend of the family was Bathilda Bagshot, the celebrated magical historian who has lived in Godric's Hollow for many years. Kendra, of course, had rebuffed Bathilda when she first attempted to welcome the family to the village. Several years later, however, the author sent an owl to Albus at Hogwarts, having been favourably impressed by his paper on Trans-Species Transformation in Transfiguration Today. This initial contact led to acquaintance with the entire Dumbledore family. At the time of Kendra's death, Bathilda was the only person in Godric's Hollow who was on speaking terms with Dumbledore's mother.
Unfortunately, the brilliance that Bathilda exhibited earlier in her life has now dimmed. 'The fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty,' as Ivor Dillonsby put it to me, or, in Enid Smeek's slightly earthier phrase, 'She's as nutty as squirrel poo.' Nevertheless, a combination of tried and tested reporting techniques enabled me to extract enough nuggets of hard fact to string together the whole scandalous story.
"Veritaserum, more like," huffed Snape, his anger mounting at the author's vitriol, and looked at Dumbledore's portrait once more and read out the offending passage. "Smeek! I remember her grandson – an illiterate oaf and it sounds like it's a family trait!"
Dumbledore smiled kindly. "The Smeeks were not fond of us, it is true." He sighed. "But you are right, I dread to think of what the 'tried and tested' techniques were which Rita utilised on poor Bathilda. I am sure she didn't limit herself to Veritaserum."
"You mean Legilimency?" asked Snape, his eyes narrowing.
"Very possibly. The last I saw of Bathilda, her mind was becoming ever cloudier. I doubt Bathilda recalls much in a lucid fashion any more for Veritaserum to be effective."
"She has dementia?"
"I believe so, Severus."
Snape stared at the book with revulsion and then continued.
Like the rest of the Wizarding world, Bathilda puts Kendra's premature death down to a 'backfiring charm', a story repeated by Albus and Aberforth in later years. Bathilda also parrots the family line on Ariana, calling her 'frail' and 'delicate'. On one subject, however, Bathilda is well worth the effort I put into procuring Veritaserum, for she, and she alone, knows the full story of the best-kept secret of Albus Dumbledore's life. Now revealed for the first time, it calls into question everything that his admirers believed of Dumbledore: his supposed hatred of the Dark Arts, is opposition to the oppression of Muggles, even his devotion to his own family.
The very same summer that Dumbledore went home to Godric's Hollow, now an orphan and head of the family, Bathilda Bagshot agreed to accept into her home her great nephew, Gellert Grindelwald.
Snape's breath caught as the realisation came to him. There had been references before to Grindelwald, hadn't there? It couldn't be! He felt his skin crawl under his clothes and he slowly turned to Dumbledore's portrait once more.
"Grindelwald?" he whispered, the prickling of his skin spreading as he perceived the unguarded look of misery on Dumbledore's face. "It was Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore nodded.
Snape flicked through the book to the photographs and saw two teenage boys, both laughing immoderately. Dumbledore, now with elbow length hair, had a tiny, wispy beard. The boy beside him had a gleeful, wild look. His golden hair fell in curls to his shoulders. The caption said: Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother's death, with his friend Gellert Grindelwald.
Dumbledore had been in love with Grindelwald – a sheltered brilliant student meeting another brilliant mind – not to mention, handsome. It must have been liberating for Dumbledore. Snape looked at the photograph again: Grindelwald was indeed quite handsome and Dumbledore – so young! Auburn hair and just the beginnings of a beard. Before the turn into the twentieth century! Snape couldn't help his fascination.
"Read on and read aloud, Severus. Know the worst of me."
Snape turned slowly back to the page and read aloud:
"The name of Grindelwald is justly famous: in a list of Most Dangerous Dark Wizards of All Time, he would miss out on the top spot only because You-Know-Who arrived, a generation later, to steal his crown. As Grindelwald never extended his campaign of terror to Britain, however, the details of his rise to power are not widely known here.
Educated at Durmstrang, a school famous even then for its unfortunate tolerance of the Dark Arts, Grindelwald showed himself quite as precociously brilliant as Dumbledore. Rather than channel his abilities into the attainment of awards and prizes, however, Gellert Grindelwald devoted himself to other pursuits. At sixteen years old, even Durmstrang felt it could no longer turn a blind eye to the twisted experiments of Gellert Grindelwald, and he was expelled.
Hitherto, all that has been known of Grindelwald's next movements is that he 'travelled abroad for some months.' It can now be revealed that Grindelwald chose to visit his great aunt in Godric's Hollow, and that there, intensely shocking thought it will be for many to hear it, he struck up a close friendship with none other than Albus Dumbledore.
'He seemed a charming boy to me,' babbles Bathilda, 'whatever he became later. Naturally, I introduced him to poor Albus, who was missing the company of lads his own age. The boys took to each other at once.'
They certainly did. Bathilda shows me a letter, kept by her, that Albus Dumbledore sent Gellert Grindelwald in the dead of night.
'Yes, even after they'd spent all day in discussion – both such brilliant young boys, they got on like a cauldron on fire – I'd sometimes hear an owl tapping at Gellert's bedroom window, delivering a letter from Albus! An idea would have struck him, and he had to let Gellert know immediately!'
And what ideas they were. Profoundly shocking though Albus Dumbledore's fans will find it, her are the thoughts of their seventeen-year-old hero, as relayed to his new best friend:
Snape stopped, almost unwilling to read further.
"Go on, Severus," coaxed Dumbledore.
Gellert – Snape coughed to clear his throat.
Your point about wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES' OWN GOOD – this, I think, is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and, yes, that power gives us the right to rule, - Snape stopped and blinked fast. Had he really just read that? but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counter-arguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD. Snape drew breath sharply and looked up to the portrait for reassurance that it was all a lie, but Dumbledore's eyes were closed. Snape turned back to the book and inhaled deeply, and continued once more. And from this is follows that where we meet resistance, we must use only the force that is necessary and no more. (This was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I do not complain, because if you had not been expelled, we would never have met.)
Albus
Snape sat back and pushed the book away from himself, and let his hand cradle his mouth. The silence in the office pressed more heavily on him as Snape's mind almost felt stalled by what he had read.
This could not be Albus! All my life he has been held up as a paragon of virtue, of nobility, insufferably so – always a golden Gryffindor.
"The greater good ..." Snape finally repeated.
"Yes. The phrase which became his mantra – it came from me. But there was worse than that."
Dumbledore's voice sounded old for the first time Snape could remember. He bent to the book and read on, his voice sounding so loud and obtrusive in the silence, through Skeeter's condemnations and vilifications and her self-satisfaction.
Astonished an appalled though his many admirers will be, this letter constitutes proof that Albus Dumbledore once dreamed of overthrowing the Statute of Secrecy, and establishing wizard rule over Muggles. What a blow, for those who have always portrayed Dumbledore as the Muggle-borns' greatest champion! How hollow those speeches promoting Muggle rights seems, in the light of this damning new evidence! How despicable does Albus Dumbledore appear, busy plotting his rise to power when he should have been mourning his mother, and caring for his sister!
No doubt those determined to keep Dumbledore on his crumbling pedestal will bleat that he did not, after all, put his plans into action, that he must have suffered a change of heart, that he came to his senses. However, the truth seems altogether more shocking.
Barely two months into their great new friendship, Dumbledore and Grindelwald parted, never to see each other again until they met for their legendary duel. What caused this abrupt rupture? Had Dumbledore come to his senses? Had he told Grindelwald he wanted no more part in his plans? Alas, no.
'It was poor little Ariana dying, I think, that did it,' ...
Snape stopped once more and swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. He suddenly found he didn't want to know any more. Dumbledore had said, "Know the worst of me," and Snape found himself fearful of what more he would learn. He steeled himself, and read on.
'It came as an awful shock. Gellert was there in the house when it happened, and he came back to my house all of a dither, gold me he wanted to go home the next day. Terribly distressed, you know. So I arranged a Portkey and that was the last I saw of him.
'Albus was beside himself at Ariana's death. It was so dreadful for those two brothers. They had lost everybody except each other. No wonder tempers ran a little high. Aberforth blamed Albus, you know, as people will under these dreadful circumstances. But Aberforth always talked a little madly, poor boy. All the same, breaking Albus's nose at the funeral was not decent. I would have destroyed Kendra to see her sons fighting like that across her daughter's body. A shame Gellert could not have stayed for the funeral ... he would have been a comfort to Albus, at least ...'
This dreadful coffin-side brawl, known only to those few who attended Ariana Dumbledore's funeral raises several questions. Why, exactly, did Aberforth Dumbledore blame Albus for his sister's death? As it, as 'Batty' pretends, a mere effusion of grief? Or could there have been some more concrete reason for his fury? Grindelwald, expelled from Durmstrang for near-fatal attacks upon his fellow students, fled the country hours after the girl's death and Albus (out of shame, or fear?) never saw him again, not until forced to do so by the pleas of the Wizarding world.
Neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald ever seems to have referred to this brief boyhood friendship in later life. However, there can be no doubt that Dumbledore delayed, for some five years of turmoil, fatalities and disappearances, his attack upon Gellert Grindelwald. Was it lingering affection for the man, or fear of exposure as his once best friend, that caused Dumbledore to hesitate? Was it only reluctantly that Dumbledore set out to capture the man he was once so delighted he had met?
And how did the mysterious Ariana die? Was she the inadvertent victim of some Dark rite? Did she stumble across something she ought not to have done, as the two young men sat practising for the attempt at glory and domination? Is it possible that Ariana Dumbledore was the first person to die 'for the greater good'?
Snape stopped and blinked, finding himself at a loss for words, unable to continue further as a thousand questions darted around his mind.
"It was like a madness, Severus – those two months. A glorious whirlwind of ideas and dreams! A friend whose terrifying brilliance inflamed me. He represented freedom from the shackles of responsibility of my brother and sister; freedom to seek glory and power: wizards triumphant. Together, he and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution." Dumbledore shook his head.
"Did you have no qualms then about your greater good?"
"Oh yes, but it is remarkable what a young man in love can justify to himself," said Dumbledore bitterly.
"Love is blind?" asked Snape, recalling the old adage.
"If it wishes to be ... and my sister paid the price for my wilful blindness."
"What happened?" asked Snape gently, understanding now – after all, hadn't Lily paid the price for his own youthful blindness? How could he – of all people - criticise?
"Gellert and I made plans – plans to traverse the magical world on a quest for – for power, even if it meant taking poor Ariana in tow, hidden and neglected by me. Aberforth, of course, would not hear of it and challenged me. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me. It quickly became an argument." Dumbledore paused and touched his fingertips to his lips. "Then Gellert lost control and that which I had sensed in him – even though I had refused to acknowledge it – was unleashed. He began to duel my young brother! I had to protect him, and joined with Aberforth ... but Ariana tried to help, she ..." Dumbledore stopped, his mouth slightly open, as if he seeing the scene unfold in front of him.
"Severus, I do not know which of us cast the curse that killed my sister."
Snape sat in the silence. He thought of saying he was sorry, but it seemed such a tiny word compared with that loss. Perhaps he understood better than most: he knew the pain of poor choices and the fatal consequence that could attend them.
"And this is why you swore your vow?"
"It is," said Dumbledore, heavily. "I needed to atone for my arrogance and my neglect. And possibly more."
"You could have loved again," said Snape.
"I did not believe I deserved it. Not love. Not power. All I deserved was to use my talents to guide, to teach, and to safeguard."
Snape said no more, but deep down, he believed Dumbledore had been wrong – he had been alone for too long and had forgotten was romantic love was – what it should have been – had he allowed himself the second chance he had always given to others.
oooOOOooo
Snape had willed away the rest of this day of profound revelations, but his hopes for sleep before his patrol and much-anticipated talk with Lupin were dashed when the Dark Mark had burned, intense and bright, as the clock struck midnight and now he stood with his head bowed before the Dark Lord as Bellatrix, jittery and unbalanced, was just finishing pleading with him.
"– it's all I ask, my Lord. Let me kill the Mudblood!"
"Your family tree is important to you - I understand that. But he's only a Mudblood. Let the Snatchers take care of him," the Dark Lord said, somewhat dismissively, with a wave of his hand.
Snape realised they must have been discussing Ted Tonks. He would have to try to send another warning, little good that would do if the Tonkses chose to distrust him.
"Now, I wish to speak to Severus." He turned sinuously to Snape, and Bellatrix glowered behind him. Snape put all thoughts of the Tonks family from his mind as he Occluded deeply.
"My good and faithful servant," the Dark Lord murmured as he glided around Snape, as if in thought. "For some years now you know I have looked for another Apothecary to help with your work -" Certainly, Snape had known the Death Eaters had sought Slughorn, but he had never stayed in the same place longer than a week, always staying one step ahead of them – always underestimated.
"The old man thwarted my plans for Slughorn. Dear old Sluggie," the Dark Lord laughed, but the sound was humourless. "But I have cast my net wider." The Dark Lord turned to the great doors of the hall. "Come!" he commanded.
The doors swung open and a tall, masked figure walked gracefully forward and stood with him. A woman. He saw the look of undisguised jealousy and hatred smouldering on Bellatrix's face. Interesting. Surely an enemy of Bellatrix must be a potential ally for Snape.
"I have found someone to assist you as you will be so beset at Hogwarts, caring for our magical young." There was a hint of malice in the sentence that was not lost on Snape. Snape masked his growing confusion with consummate ease, but in his Occluded mind, he wondered who or what this person might be. There weren't that many Apothecaries of his skill in the country. He had to be careful. He had to ensure his worth was known.
"Indeed, my Lord. I am always sensible to the honour and trust you have placed in me."
The Dark Lord appraised Snape and then slowly inclined his head in acknowledgement then twisted towards the newcomer.
"Unmask!"
Long, immaculately manicured fingers removed the Death Eater mask and Snape noticed the sleeve fall to reveal a newly-branded Dark Mark. An extraordinary looking brunette smiled at Snape, though the smile did not reach her large brown eyes. He knew her. He had seen her photograph in Apothecarial journals. His stomach sank and squirmed. She must have already given the Dark Lord something of great value to have been welcomed to his inner circle.
"This is Livia Tofana." The Dark Lord smiled. "I see you recognise her."
"Of course. Madam Tofana." Snape bowed his head to the Italian witch in greeting.
"Livia will help us with special new work."
"New work, my Lord?" asked Snape lightly, covering his horror that he would no longer be able to hoodwink the Dark Lord about Potions – not now he had this renowned Apothecary in his service. His chest tightened uncomfortably as he quelled a sickening sense of panic.
Livia dipped one hand into her robe and withdrew a long-necked phial, topped with an ornate silver cap.
"Livia brings me a gift. It is a poison, Severus. A discriminatory poison. I have no doubt you, in particular, will approve." The Dark Lord paused, his long, spiderlike fingers plucking the phial from Livia's hands and holding it up to the light from the window. The contents shimmered.
"Slithered Silver," sang the Dark Lord. "For the filth in Snowdon."
Snape's mind raced. A poison which could kill the whole pack – Lupin included! But why was Idris no longer sought? What had happened about the twin cores? Had the Dark Lord surmounted the problem? Secrets! Snape could not afford to be excluded. He had to take the chance and be curious.
"What of the half-breed wandmaker, my Lord? You no longer require him?"
The Dark Lord sneered, a look of supreme triumph glinting in his blood-red eyes.
"I have discovered a better way."

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You Will Not Kiss Me