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This story does not belong to me. I never said it did. I'm just borrowing it to play with for a while, because I like it very very much.
A/N: This chapter has been very difficult, and it has gone through many versions. Some of you will feel gypped. I'm sorry about that. Some will be happy. I'm sorry about that too. I cannot pander to everyone, and I have to stay true to myself and what makes the most sense for my own take on the story.
In other words, if you don't like it, tough cookies.
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In the days following the destruction of the Hufflepuff horcrux, Harry and Hermione were treated to an extensive lecture by Ron, who was determined to toot his own horn as much as possible. As they sat in the common room, Ron was determined not to let them forget that he, Ronald Weasley, had destroyed one seventh of the soul of the most evil wizard who ever lived.
“And then,” Ron told them for the billionth time, “I just started running off everything I could think of that had any kind of power, and before I knew it, bam! I had the answer.”
“Oh, Ron,” said Hermione impatiently, “it was a joke!”
Ron scowled. “But it was a useful joke, wasn't it? I destroyed the Horcrux, didn't I?”
“And twelve birds.”
“What was I supposed to do? Get a bunch of little birdy earmuffs?”
“You could have cast a silencing charm.”
“Hermione, they were birds. They were casualties of war.”
“I'm just saying you could have been more careful.”
“Okay!” Harry finally cried. “Enough. What is with you two lately? You can't stop fighting long enough for us to have one peaceful evening by the fire! I'm getting sick of it. Either get along, or don't talk. And Hermione, Ron can talk about it if he wants.”
“Well, maybe I don't want to hear it!” she snapped, stomping away.
“What's with her?” asked Ron, looking confused.
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Professor McGonagall was always the last to leave Order meetings at night, probably because she had so much on her plate. The mysterious happenings at Voldemort's hideout had not gone completely unnoticed, and she was worried about what it might mean. Harry was reluctant to tell the Order what they had done, and the others had followed their lead.
After the meeting the next week, Harry approached McGonagall when everyone had left the room. She looked up, smiling tiredly. “Can I help you, Mr. Potter?”
“I'm ready to question Snape,” replied Harry.
In reality, he didn't feel ready at all. But he didn't feel unready either, and that was probably as good as it was ever going to get. And he wanted it done with. Soon.
McGonagall nodded. “I'll have him brought to his former office. It's sealed with some very advanced magic. We'll make sure that you're the only one that can leave the room once the door is shut. Can you be there in one hour?”
“Yes,” replied Harry. One hour. He could make it.
He turned and left the room.
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Fifty-nine minutes later, Harry arrived in the corridor, shaking. He stood outside the door to the office, which was standing open. Snape was lying inside, Stunned and bound. He looked as thin and pale as usual, and showed no signs of mistreatment. Vaguely, Harry felt that this was a shame.
He knocked. Moody clomped over to the door from where he had been standing, out of sight. “What is the form of your Patronus?” he asked Harry.
“A stag,” replied Harry. “Can I come in now?” Moody nodded.
Entering the room, Harry was able to see that a chair had been set up across from the table on which Snape lay. He sank into it. “I'll need to be alone with him,” he said.
This was not strictly true, but Harry didn't want to do this in front of anyone else.
“Good luck, boy,” said Moody quietly as he limped out of the room.
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Harry took a deep breath. “Ennervate.” he whispered, and Snape's eyes opened. He blinked.
As his brain caught up with his surroundings, he took in Harry. “This is the best they could do?” he asked. “The Order must be in worse shape than I thought.”
Harry really didn't want to deal with Snape's verbal comments during this process. The mental ones would be bad enough. Silencio, he thought, jabbing his wand in Snape's direction.
Snape opened his mouth to speak again and found he couldn't. His look became more appraising.
Obviously, your skills have progressed from abysmal to barely adequate. The words hung in Harry's mind, and yet they did not penetrate inside. Snape was trying to access Harry's mind, and he could not get in.
Harry waited in silence, and kept the surface of his mind totally blank. He would not crack now.
Your patience is not notable, Potter. Eventually you will not be able to resist asking me a question.
Harry knew that eventually he'd begin asking. But for now he was content to listen.
What will that question be? Why did I pretend to be on Dumbledore's side? What are the names of the Death Eaters I know? How did I fool Dumbledore? I know. Why didn't I just kill Dumbledore when Malfoy failed the first time?
Harry remained silent.
Or perhaps you'd like to know where Malfoy is now? I assure you, I am unaware of his location. He Apparated to somewhere entirely different from where I apparated to, and that' s all I know.
Harry was sure Snape was telling the truth about that. It sounded just like Malfoy.
Or perhaps you would like to know if the Dark Lord knows the full details of that prophecy. I am sorry to say he does not. If I were aware of them, he would. But Dumbledore was not kind enough to let me in on that little secret.
If Voldemort could have got the contents of the prophecy from Snape, he would never have tried to get the prophecy from the Ministry two years before. This whole topic was pointless.
We can do this forever, Potter. I'm not going anywhere.
Snape was not going to provide more information. Harry decided to take the initiative. Whose idea was it for you to kill Dumbledore? Yours or his?
Snape's eyes narrowed. Neither, actually. It was Narcissa Malfoy. She wanted to be sure that Draco would be protected.
Harry had guessed as much. Someone had pushed Snape into making an Unbreakable Vow, after all. I know about the Vow you made. I don't care. I mean on that rooftop. You and Dumbledore communicated through Legilimency. Who told you to kill him that night? What were you willing to do?
Clearly, I underestimated your intelligence, Potter.
That was as close to a compliment as Snape had ever given Harry. Very distracting. Whose idea was it?
Do you want an answer?
Yes.
Really?
Yes.
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Harry was back on the rooftop. Dumbledore looked at Snape with pleading eyes. “Severus...”
The sound of Dumbledore pleading was still frightening. But for the first time, Harry could see it from a different perspective. He wasn't pleading for his life. He was trying to get Snape to look at him.
Snape pushed his way through Amycus, and Alecto, and Fenrir Greyback.
Dumbledore and Snape locked eyes. The beam of light shot between them, and Harry was pulled inside it.
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Inside the beam of light, Snape and Dumbledore were standing in a room.
“You alone know my secret,” said Dumbledore. “You know what I am hiding, and why it can never be known.”
Snape nodded.
“If Voldemort finds out, that will be the end of it,” said Dumbledore. “None of the last sixteen years, at least, will happen. Can you allow that?”
Snape continued to stare at Dumbledore for a minute, and then he shook his head. “No.”
“You can save us all,” added Dumbledore. “All you have to do is kill me before Voldemort's potion controls me.”
“You can't ask this of me,” whispered Snape. “I will be outcast from both sides.”
“I can,” replied Dumbledore, “because the alternative is for Voldemort to have free reign over everything. I know you never wanted that.”
“I won't kill you. I can't.”
“You have to. You have always known it would happen this way. Ever since I told you the truth.”
“I know.”
“Let the circle continue unbroken, Severus.”
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The light faded. Dumbledore and Snape's gazes still locked, and Snape looked at Dumbledore with a look of pure hatred.
“Severus...please...”
“Avada Kedavra.”
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“Snape cannot be trusted,” Harry told Professor McGonagall, “because his loyalty was not to our cause or to Voldemort's. It was to Dumbledore. Whatever connection he had to our side, it's broken now.
“Why would he kill Dumbledore?” asked Professor McGonagall.
Harry had considered trying to pry that information out of Snape's mind, but he couldn't see himself violating Dumbledore's last secret. Sometimes it seemed that Dumbledore's constant secrets were all that was left of the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. “He killed Dumbledore,” Harry said finally, “because Dumbledore was dying.”
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